The short-lived races too were ravaged by the horrors of the great beyond, their delicate psyches overwhelmed by the total fear of the end of all things. Those who had the gift of magic were consumed in a conflagration of magical energies which started a chain reaction throughout the rest of the world. Only those who had fully given themselves to the path of necromancy had any defense against the great psychic cry that consumed any of those who had a spark of magical aptitude.
- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC.
I gasped in sweet blessed relief filled as my lungs remembered to breathe with the notification of the brute’s death. Placing my hands on my knees, my armor suddenly felt heavy as I grew a little weak. After the relief came euphoric joy. I punched a fist into the air, delighted that my gamble had paid off.
Despite my joy and good fortune, I could not shake a lingering sense of fear. Beneath my excitement, a foreboding feeling gnawed at the back of my mind. It reinforced my desire to make sure my Health was never reduced to zero—whether by an enemy's hand or the specter of death on the distant horizon. Death, I realized, was a poison we drank the moment we were born, sometimes swift, sometimes slow, but always certain. And, like many things in this world, even Death was reduced to a simple number heavy with meaning.
Mind wandering, I almost bumped into the counter. The bookkeeper looked at us over horn-rimmed spectacles as I handed him my betting slip, “Got lucky, didn’t we? Who would have thought that he could have won against the orc, eh?” His tone of voice was a lot more animated now and he seemed a little nervous. “Still, we always honor bets placed at Ansarai’s,” he finished quickly, sneaking a look at the hulking guards behind him wielding long halberds that gleamed to a polish shine.
The guards were clad in heavy and well-worn coats of plate, their hard eyes looking at us as if drinking in all the information they could for later recollection.
“Aha, that comes to two gold and two silver pieces,” he said, almost sweating. “…that was the biggest wager placed today on the Quassian, congratulations... ahh... err... Mr. Elwin Tucker.”
A few moments later, he reached into a sturdy-looking metal money box and handed me my winnings.
I noticed the money was a little short.
“I think...” I began before I was cut off.
Used to this common question and reading my expression, he answered succinctly, “Gambling tax, a city ordinance here in the pits for winnings over two gold pieces.”
Looking at the guards, I tried to read their expressions, but they all looked like marble statues looking into the distance. I would get no quick answers there, and I did not want to cause a scene. Pocketing my money, I was delighted by an unexpected notification.
You have gained 1 Luck.
Smiling to myself, I realized there was still much I did not know about this gamified world. How on earth was it possible to train Luck? It seemed that, in this world, gambling was the answer. In what way did Luck even affect me here in this world?
Such musings would have to wait for another day. The shadows had started to grow long, and it was high time we made it back to the inn to regroup with Elwin. I had to get used to living in a world where civilization had not completely conquered the night.
Before we started to make our way back, I made sure to split my winnings evenly with Kidu. Never having had a lot of material wealth, a loose attitude towards money was one of the things I could never stand in the old world and was the cause of some friction in my previous relationships. Still, having a gold piece in my pocket put me in a more financially secure frame of mind.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
On our way back we had another celebratory meal of some spicy meats-on-sticks at a small food stall, savoring the sweet flavor of victory. We learned that the stall owner’s name was Elbeg, and we promised to come again. On a whim, I also bought a rough gray linen robe from a clothing seller who tried to convince me to buy some fancy-looking garments that were beyond my means. Inspired by Vidone’s performance and the usefulness of hidden armor was what probably powered most of that decision. Also, my initial starting robe had been stolen from me when I was inducted into the life of slavery. A sentimental part of me wanted a symbol, if nothing else, of freedom.
We didn’t pass any more of the Plains-Laur, which disappointed me a little, as I wanted to take the time to cast Identify on them. Instead, I spent my excess mana casting Identify on the script I could see written on shop signs, understanding now that, thankfully, the Trade language was phonetically written. I shuddered to think of the amount of Mana I would require, were it to have used ideograms.
From a young age, I had always enjoyed reading, even taking the time to read the cereal boxes at breakfast. At the very least, now I could understand the shop signs and simple notices, but what I really wanted to sink my teeth into were books. Elwin’s ‘present’, though extremely insightful, was growing limited in the knowledge I could glean from it. I wanted to know more, and not just about magical equations and arcane knowledge. I wanted to know more about this world outside my limited scope! Almost chomping at the bit to get my hands on a book, even a mundane one, I wanted some information that told me about the stories and histories of this new world in written form.
While these idle thoughts and wishes were running through my head, we made good progress along the Eastern main road that eventually led us back to the inn. Of note was a purple-colored yurt that was belching ochre-colored smoke from a stone chimney set in its center, much to the disgruntlement of its neighbors.
Two wizened old wives, hunched and stooped, were deep in conversation next to the yurt. They wore what seemed to be the traditional clothes of the Children, colorful deels with wide open sleeves tied with silk sashes, and gossiped and complained about the noise and smell of their neighbor. I read the sign that was staked in front of the strange yurt which read “Hamsa’s Wondrous Apothecary.”
Interesting, I thought to myself as we walked past, this was probably where I could acquire potions like the one that Degei force-fed me after my torturing. The memory alone brought to the fore of my mind emotions and feelings that induced, in equal part, both rage and a powerful urge to vomit.
Turning the corner back to the main thoroughfare, I accidentally bumped into what I thought at the time was a wall of hulking metal. Catching myself before I truly lost my balance, I looked up to see a man clad in heavy steel scale armor. The edges of each overlapping section of armor were trimmed with bronze or copper and polished to a mirror shine, giving the impression that he was clad in the hide of a mythic sea creature.
His helm was in the form of a snarling reptilian beast. The face that looked out from within was a patchwork of fights won and lost, grizzled features scarred by battle with cruel Asiatic eyes that looked down at me with smug casual disdain. In his left hand, he held a long halberd, the fearsome curved blade erupting from the mouth of the dragon at the end of the shaft.
“My pardon,” I began to mouth automatically, modern-day politeness still ingrained in me even as my companion, who was flanking me, began to grow tense.
It seemed that the man I had inadvertently bumped into was but one of many, an escort for a well-to-do couple. The escort numbered four men, all clad identically to the man before me. At the center of their formation was their master, a rich-looking man with a long thin mustache clad in the local custom. He wore a rich sunset orange deel that was of an expensive cut. At his waist, a scarlet silk sash circled a portly frame grown to excessive fat. The master condescendingly accepted my apology with a nod, no doubt to him a form magnanimous noble largesse, and waved away his formidable guard.
The woman at his side looked at me in shock, however. Gasping, she covered her mouth as if she had seen a ghost. The woman was perhaps just on the cusp of middle age, beautiful golden rings decorated her crow black hair. She must be shocked at my impertinence at delaying her progress through the city, I thought to myself.
Seeking to avoid further insult, I ground my teeth and hurriedly added a further apology.
“Apologies to you and your guard. We had best be on our way,” I said bowing low and as ingratiatingly as possible, drawing a haughty snort from one of the guards.
I hurriedly indicated with a few hand gestures to Kidu that we should make our exit quickly.
Kidu shot the armored entourage a brief, defiant glare, ensuring he didn't appear intimidated, yet avoiding provocation, before trailing behind.