Current Quests
Justice For Courbefy: Find justice for the victims of the corrupt mayor of Courbefy. Use…
Chosen Of Knowledge: Escort Hugh on his journey to becoming a fully awakened iron…
Chosen Of Hero: Enter the chosen of hero into a tournament to gain notoriety.
Lianne Lane was sacked. She felt numb from the inside to the out, standing on the last step of the Adventure Society before the cobblestones of the street. Even her mind was numb. Not a single thought could muster the ability to begin flowing amongst the fog that had invaded her head. She turned around and saw the doorman looking at her sternly but also with deep pity. He knew she didn’t deserve this, like everyone else did, but he wasn’t going to lose his job over saying anything about it.
She’d done nothing wrong but the higher ups had given her the sack anyway. Well, fine, she’d technically done something wrong but everyone knew that refusing a personal request from Lady Geller was more wrong and it’d been nothing but bad luck that she’d been the one to answer the incoming waterlink. It could have been anybody who was on that day!
Lianne had done everything that the people above her had asked, and lost her job. She’d never not had a job before. Her hands that were holding the sack full of personal items from her desk were trembling, she could see they were, even though she couldn’t feel them through the shock. Taking two deep breaths, Lianne gathered the courage to take a step onto the uncaring cobblestones. The sun came out from the clouds as she did so and when she glanced up, she saw, standing in the sunlight, him. Then she slipped on the wet cobblestones and fell directly into his arms.
Johan caught the unfortunate woman as she slipped. The poor lady, he thought, she must have gotten the sun in her eyes.
“Woah!” exclaimed Johan, setting her upright once more. “Apologies for laying hands upon you, Madam. I meant only to prevent you from hitting the ground.” He knuckled his forehead and offered her a small bow.
The woman had pale skin, a round face, mousey hair and was dressed both conservatively and professionally. Her mouth worked up and down soundlessly as she stared at Johan who wondered if perhaps he’d rudely forgotten to scrub his face adequately today. His mum had always said that washing was good, but sometimes a scrubbing was better.
Finding herself in the powerful arms of a blond man with perfect hair, built like a sculpture with a jawline that looked like it could chisel other sculptures, Lianne could only stammer as the demigod holding her simply placed her back on her own two feet as easily as if she was a doll that he was righting.
“Tha - that’s quite alright ah - sir?”
“Johan Schmidt, at your service,” said Johan, again lifting his knuckle to his forelock and bowing slightly.
Lianne had grown accustomed to feeling people’s auras, working at the Adventure Society and all, but this Johan’s was different. His felt raw, untamed and… not at all unpleasant. Normally, the iron ranked auras would flare unpleasantly while the adventurer struggled to get them under control. Some of the more cruel adventurers from high born families would flare them on purpose if you didn’t do what they wanted. You had to go and get a trained guard if that happened. But, this man in front of her, when his aura flared, it felt like the solution to life’s problems. She also couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be a wind that only his hair could feel that was always blowing it perfectly into place.
“Oh!” stammered Lianne, desperately trying to say anything at all to kickstart her mind into hopefully, saying something impressive to this man. “Wha - What services can you offer me?”
Lianne you fucking bitch, she scolded herself, you sound like you’re picking up a street walker. She plastered a nervous smile on her face.
“Actually,” said Johan, picking up on none of this, “I was hoping I could offer you gainful employment on behalf of a future adventurer that you may have heard of. May I, perhaps, walk you to a cafe and buy you a beverage where we shall discuss this further, Mizz…?”
“Miss!” squeaked Lianne at the speed of sound and immediately blushed with embarrassment at how forward she must seem. “Miss Lianne Lane! Wanting to service - I mean, also at your service.”
Johan could see that the poor lady was out of sorts and he didn’t entirely blame her. She must be having an emotional day. No wonder her face wouldn’t work properly and kept turning different colours. He’d had bad days in the past, for sure, and his mum and dad had always been there to help him out. So, he helped out Miss Lane right now and offered her his elbow. Just the way Miss Greenwood had told him was the polite way to help escort a lady.
Lianne took the proffered elbow with her left arm, heart fluttering for all sorts of reasons, and allowed herself to be led to a nearby cafe. She didn’t hear Johan’s polite conversation or even her replies, she was in such a state and, in her defence, it genuinely was an accident that she stumbled and ended up leaning on his well muscled arm, clutching it in both hands.
The same sundown, in the gardens of healing, Dave watched as Brisset returned through her rune portal with both Johan and a mousy-haired woman in tow. Johan was carrying several bags of the woman’s belongings in his hands and bowing the nervous woman through Brisset’s portal.
Lane’s eyes darted around and Dave didn’t need aura powers to see that she was hanging on to sanity by a thread and that thread was called Johan. Dave hung back. He’d never been good at comforting strangers.
“Hello! Hello!” called Sam from where she’d been gardening with Slimy. She breezed over, projecting warmth with her encompassing smile. “Hello, I am Sam! What’s your name?”
Sam’s strategy of overwhelming friendliness paid off and Lane was led towards a bathing area leaving behind Johan who promised to find somewhere comfortable to place her belongings. He spotted Dave and hurried over.
“Ho, Dave!” called Johan. “I don’t suppose you could make two of those stiff paper dwellings tonight?”
“I could, Johan,” said Dave, wryly. “I take it she accepted the position?”
“Yes, just as we said she would,” said Johan. “You know, I can’t believe that ten coins a day is less pay for her. City people, hey? How much money do you need?”
Dave cast Comfortable Country Cabin on an open space of the garden and smiled slightly at Johan who was shaking his head in disbelief at the luxuries he imagined city people were buying with their riches.
“You know it’s a lot more expensive to live in the city than on your farm?” asked Dave. “Why don’t you wake me early tomorrow morning and we can both wander outside and buy some bread, cheese and bacon for breakfast? You’ll see.”
Johan pulled a face that suggested he was bracing for yet another shock to his system. Dave hoped this one would be less expensive and less time consuming to explain than the homeless person incident.
“She didn’t like one of your answers, though,” said Johan.
Dave raised his eyebrows.
“About how you wanted to hire someone with no love for the Gellers?” said Johan.
Dave pondered this for a moment.
“Oh! She’s afraid that she’ll be drawn into a conflict that I’m definitely going to lose?”
“I promised her that I would not allow you to endanger her,” said Johan, stiffly.
“A promise you’ll never have to follow up on, my friend,” said Dave with a cunning smirk. “Miss Lane is going to be doing nothing more than running an investment firm. Buying and selling stocks, some of our loot, some of other people’s loot. Any investigation of Miss Lane will be a very expensive exercise in discovering that she’s running a business.”
Johan looked mollified but looked like there was something else he wanted to say.
“Was there anything else?” said Dave.
“Yes,” said Johan, perking up. “The tournament, I have learned the prize!”
The whole team knew about Dave’s current quests because Dave figured more eyes, more opportunity and Johan had been particularly interested in the tournament one about him. It didn’t take him long to discover that there was a grand tournament being held in Oullins in seven days. Someone’s birthday. It was a big to-do with anybody who wanted to be seen as a somebody planning to be in attendance. Dave had wanted to avoid it and enter Johan in a smaller tournament to complete his [Chosen Of Hero] quest but Johan had, naturally, wanted to test his mettle. In the name of quest completion, of course.
Dave had explained to Johan that mixing with nobles is what had put him in Healer’s cathedral in the first place but had conceded that if the tournament prize was good enough, he’d agree to it. Dave had hoped that this would deter Johan. It had not. Johan had taken this matter-of-factly and started asking around about the prizes. Clearly, he’d found an answer.
“Well?” said Dave. “What are these prizes? And, is the source of this information reliable?”
Johan showed Dave a piece of paper with an official seal.
“I got it from that fencing school a block over,” said Johan. “They didn’t have anybody to send, none of their students being of noble enough blood, so the master there let me take it. It’s the official rules and prizes of the tournament. Look!”
Johan pointed at the prizes section. Dave looked, manifested both of his familiars and had Tome show local literature that described what a ‘Templar’ armour set was. His eyes went wide. Fucking Hell. He used Epistemology to check a few terms he didn’t know about smithing and enchanting.
“It’s good enough, isn’t it?” said Johan, as close to giddy as Dave had ever seen him. “It is, don’t you think.”
Fuuuuuuuuuck, thought Dave.
“Yes, it’s definitely good enough,” growled Dave through gritted teeth, putting his hand over his face and running it over his head through his hair.
“So you’ll use your quest to get me in the arena alongside the nobles? Really?” asked Johan.
Dave sighed heavily. He’d really been hoping to get his airship and get out of town under as little scrutiny as possible. Nuts that now, he supposed.
“So long as you do it quietly,” said Dave. “Win or lose, we don’t need the nobs looking closely at us, okay?”
“I won’t let you down, Dave!” said Johan.
“I know you’ll do your best, mate,” said Dave, shaking his head and smiling.
“By the way, how’s that flying machine going?” asked Johan.
“Good, I think,” said Dave, perking up himself. “Brisset has a shipwright going over the plans for a couple of days and then it’s straight into construction. Apparently because it’s all non-magical it’ll only take a week to build. But I’ve asked her to consider some basic self repairing and fire retardant enchantments for the fabric of the envelope section.”
“Wow,” said Johan, face alight with wonder. “Who’d have thought? Me, an adventurer on a flying machine?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Literally everyone who knew you, Johan,” answered Dave, flatly.
Johan grinned like Dave had just made a very funny joke.
“I have a meeting with Brisset,” said Dave, “but you should put those bags inside the cabin and it wouldn’t be impolite of you to set up a bed and perhaps a couple of chairs. Make the room comfortable, you know? Oh! And, warn her of the spell stopping after about eight to ten hours.”
“Certainly, yes,” said Johan. “See you at dinner.”
Dave strode off towards Brisset, hyper aware of the slope of the ground. Sudden stops and starts seemed to aggravate his body-soul connection and set off his spasms but they were getting better.
=Brisset is a true warrior. She wishes for us to rain death from the skies.=
Dave ignored the scandalised looks that Tzu’s opinion garnered from a couple of nuns in the same stretch of hallway.
“You’re both right,” said Dave. “We’ll all have more time for studies and we’ll have more efficient access to monsters as well. Now, what’re the peace phrases?”
=Knowledge is power. Power wins battles.= buzzed Tzu dejectedly.
“Thank you, both,” said Dave, turning down another hallway. “Where are we at with the schedule?”
Tome flipped its pages to reveal a handwritten schedule. A pen flew out of Dave’s pocket and crossed out everything from fifteen to eighteen hours on Kyriake – the Byzasi Monday. Dave looked at the rest of his week.
“Okay, Geller legal stuff and flying machine stuff now if Brisset is free, she should be, and let’s reschedule Miss Lane tomorrow morning.” Another pen came out of his pocket to erase ‘welcome Lianne Lane’ from the current time slot while the first wrote it into the eighth hour of Deutera, the next day.
=You are leaving precious little time for training before the adventure society intake.=
Tome bobbed up and down in agreement and flipped to a larger, monthly schedule that showed an intake in two weeks.
“Yes, remind me to check with Brisset about their minimum standards,” said Dave. “The cultural context of the difficulty described seems to come from the memoirs of nobles, right? But the descriptions of the actual requirements are basically; exercise a lot, get really tired and miserable and then still be capable of the emotional control to make good decisions.” Dave rolled his eyes. “While I do expect that’s difficult for people in this culture, I expect my biggest difficulty will be avoiding examiners who expect to have their arse kissed.”
Dave walked into a staff room that Brisset commonly haunted. She had put her own drinks machine in it. Pop a coin in the top, and a drink infused with the power of the coin came out the bottom. It was basically a way to make consuming spirit coins more interesting.
“To answer your question,” said Brisset, who was sitting on a well-used wooden chair at the communal table like it was a throne, “the minimum standards are not just psychological. They usually check that you can actually solo kill monsters appropriate for your own level and that you can account for the weaknesses in your power set.”
“Well, you’ve seen my skills,” said Dave, dryly, not at all perturbed by her supernatural hearing. “So long as my enemies stay still I’m good. It’s when they start moving around and fighting back that it gets all tricky!”
“Work on that,” said Brisset. “I gather that you postponed meeting your new secretary?”
“She seemed overwhelmed,” said Dave. “Do you have time?”
Brisset nodded. Tome floated to rest sideways between them, displaying a list of points which they were to address one-by-one.
The money for forgiveness scheme had been finalised and the amount of money was exorbitant. The entire process was in motion and Brisset judged it was time to bring up the restraining order with Baron Franchet. Without there being an actual legal process it looked like this would take the form of Roland Remore signing off on a letter that he would be most displeased if his subject, who he was leaving in the Byzasic Empire to level up, were to be disturbed by any further attention by the Geller family, whether it be directly or indirectly. Brisset made sure that Dave understood this to mean that this wasn’t any kind of immunity, but it would mean that anything Geller did would necessarily have to be something that gave the gold ranked baron complete plausible deniability.
They moved onto the details of the flying machine. Brisset agreed with the safety details Dave had suggested for the envelope. She told him that it’d be easy since the material had already been delivered, they could just hire a local journeyman tailor-enchanter for a day. Probably even an experienced apprentice. Those self repair and fire retardant enchantments were about the first things tailors learned when making adventuring clothes.
Brisset brought up the hydrogen reaction and the materials needed but Dave handed her another piece of paper with an electrolysis reaction. If lightning magic could be made cost effective with rituals, which Brisset assured him could be in certain parts of the world, then hydrogen and oxygen could be generated with less waste products and they’d have two products to sell instead of one. Brisset said the idea looked promising and took the idea under advisement.
They then discussed the construction of the airship. The schedule put its completion date at about Pempteday – Thursday – next week. Although the initial plan was to have it completely non-magical, Brisset suggested a few, cheap weight-reducing enchantments around the parts of the vehicle that weren’t designed to be inhabited, like the envelope. They both went over the pros and cons and decided not to use them on this model but to do that on other prototypes. Dave didn’t want to be stuck somewhere, unable to take off because an enchantment he didn’t understand had broken.
Next was the problem of a crew. Brisset had put feelers out but the initial thoughts from the construction crew was that they were building a deathtrap and nobody sane would agree to fly it. Locally, she only had word of a disgraced ship captain, one Serge Dimont, that some said might be insane enough to try it. Otherwise she’d have to portal in a crew at expense. Dave shrugged and figured he’d talk to Captain Dimont first.
Next was selling the loot from Ross Geller’s hunting party. Brisset looked at the items, especially the scimitar of frost and lamellar armour of conduction, and declared them unremarkable and safe to sell but suggested disenchanting them to be on the safe side. Dave used Stop And Think to look up what disenchanting was and took a particular note of that profession but expressed that he’d prefer she sell them on his behalf to a broker the next time she was in another city. He handed over a note upon which he wrote their current prices while they talked.
Lastly, Brisset confirmed a deal that had been implicit for some time but they both felt would be best if made explicit. Remore would provide cover for Dave calling his appearance the result of a teleportation accident and Dave would provide services for Remore when requested. Dave was hesitant to agree to such an open ended deal but Brisset assured him that Roland was as honourable as diamond rankers went and he wasn’t going to get a better deal this side of reality so, Dave agreed.
That done, they both went to dinner.
Madeline respectfully ate her roast and vegetables with her mind on the iron ranker diagonal to her who was chatting and joking with the death essenced Sam. He really didn’t know, did he? Electrolysis? He’d explained it and while her silver ranked mind remembered what he’d said word-for-word, she didn’t understand why it worked. She knew that there was a distinct smell after a lightning strike or lightning magic so perhaps it was something to do with that? But two entirely new substances in industrial quantities? And all she needed was a high bronze zone rich in air magic and a few specialised mana lamps? She could think of at least three places off the top of her head.
She’d considered just picking him up and depositing him in a research campus somewhere but Roland had vetoed that from the start. It was a prescient move considering that Dave had made a kind of deal with Disguise about staying away from research and that Dave’s culture of origin didn’t seem to have ranks or nobility. He’d definitely chafe under the thumb of a Magic Society senior researcher.
She internally rolled her eyes. Most of those senior researchers would scoff at and ignore Dave’s work anyway. The learned people of this world were very insular, intellectually insecure and jealous. Any idea that wasn’t their own was always to be rejected. She would have rejected Dave’s thoughts too had she not gained employment under Roland and met so many of the outworlders that he collected. While most of them were just ordinary people taken out of their ordinary lives, some of them could introduce completely new perspectives on ordinary things. Like using electricity as a signal. She still didn’t understand it but that fact in particular seemed important to outworlders from technology-based worlds.
No, Roland wanted the outworlders free to pursue their own interests but, employed within sight of his people and busy enough to bring their ideas to life in this world. Luckily for her, Dave seemed to like being busy and had already collected an adventuring party. Brisset was worried about little Miss Khantong but she was nowhere near turning yet, that usually happened at silver rank, and she had a happy personality which was the first she’d ever heard of in a restricted essence user so, Brisset figured, she’d allow Dave’s plans regarding Sam play out. Who knows? Perhaps they could get that Death essence out of her. Death’s church didn’t yet consider her an enemy, that was for sure. An ally, if anything.
Brisset’s thoughts returned to observing Dave who was, she realised trying to explain some mathematical concept to Sam. Brisset allowed her attention to catch up on that conversation.
“No, really,” said Dave. “If a molotov cocktail costs less than the loot I get from a monster, on average, then why shouldn’t I use one every battle?”
“Because you will burn everything Dave!” replied Sam. “So smelly!”
“Okay, sure,” conceded Dave. “I hadn’t considered the smell but that’s not the point. The point is, since the materials are so cheap, the moment we face an even mildly challenging monster, I should immediately start throwing them, right? I mean, they’re so cheap! Aren’t they?”
Sam just laughed.
“Look, how about we go shopping tomorrow and look at the prices of iron rank naphtha, potash and resin?” said Dave. “You’ll see. After that it’s exploding minions, Sam!”
Sam covered her mouth and continued laughing. Brisset felt that some of her mirth was coming from the fact that, absurd as Dave’s idea was, there was a lot of merit in the idea. Having a minion carry a low cost explosive to a difficult monster? She thought about her own power set. Actually, between her rune and resolute power set she might have abilities that could protect her from an explosion. For certain she could make her rune gate on the ground and fall into it so she wouldn’t even have to carry the explosive just take it out of her inventory and...
Brisset smiled to herself. She realised she’d just independently discovered why Remore found outworlders so useful.
Hugh was in the cathedral of Knowledge, meditating on the cost of battle with half of a broken stick in each of his hands. The cost was high, he thought. Dan dying with his guts hanging out, Abbot Deniaud dying, handing over the key to his office with his last breath and, later, Justin pouring health potions over his dead face. The numerous corpses of other friends, colleagues and acquaintances he and Dave had snuck past without acknowledgement. Then Hugh ran away through the air and they got no last rites before the Builder cult burned his - their - home to the ground.
Yes, that was all worth fighting against. Hugh knew that but no matter how he hurled himself into battle against it, the fear always overtook him. He looked again at the pieces of wood in his hands, the only thing that could summon the fighting spirit into him and drive away the fear. I need this, he thought.
He’d never been a fighter. Never thought he’d be a fighter. But, here he was. It was worth the fight, he had reasoned, to battle against the goals of the Builder cult and the fallen Purity church. He searched within himself for why he knew that. Where did that knowledge come from? The Lady herself? But no, he slowly realised. It was because of his values. Morality.
He was a person and the goals of Builder-Purity alliance was to hurt people, to make them lesser than they could be, and the Builder-Purity people achieving their goals was antithetical to Hugh’s values. To his life. He’d prefer not to fight about it but if there was a fight to be had, fighting for the values that you based your life upon seemed the most noble. He could feel his Lady smiling upon him. Yes, she always liked it when people found their own way.
Although he had never thought to be a fighter, he had the ability now and so, he reasoned, he should fight. The cost of the battle was worth fighting because if they didn’t fight, the Builder cult would burn the planet and the Purity church would raise a new, twisted pantheon over the ashes. Yes, he had to be part of the fight. He just had to find a way through the fear. The overwhelming fear that bubbled up inside him and took over his body.
I can help. For a while, said Knowledge inside Hugh’s head.
Please, my Lady, thought Hugh.
Have a care, said Knowledge, for my help will remove my blessings upon you.
How will that help? Hugh inquired.
My gifts unbalance your mind, said Knowledge in a divine tone of regret. When confronted with battle, your memories cause mortal fears to come foremost to your mind. I can retract my gifts of knowledge, and free you.
Hugh thought about it for a while. It didn’t seem right. He followed that thought. What wasn’t right? The obvious answer was that Knowledge herself was about to withhold… knowledge. Herself! She was withholding herself, from one of her worshippers! He meditated on that for a while before realising, wasn’t she always? Knowledge was ever holding back from pouring herself into her followers at every moment. It was no secret that She desired the discovery of knowledge, she often intervened to prevent Outworlders from inappropriately adding to this world’s knowledge. And with that revelation, Hugh understood better.
I have a solution, my Lady, thought Hugh. May I ask that you not remove but censor for a time? For I am he with improper knowledge and like you protect this world, and all adherents, from dangerous knowledge, I ask that you do the same for me. I ask that you protect me from my memories, my knowledge, so that I may fight those who seek you harm? I wish to fight to honour the dead. As is proper. I think that they deserve that from me. My dead friends deserve someone to fight for them.
Hugh felt a warmth spread across his body as his goddess smiled at him. He felt something shifting in his soul.
Yes, my child, said Knowledge, my gifts are indeed burdens for the wrong mind and burdens that you didn’t ask for were forced upon you by cultists of The Builder. I will censor them for a while and you will not feel their weight until your mind and body is anew and ready for those burdens.
The shifting in his soul sharpened and Hugh felt… something, being shut away from him. The feeling was like putting a sheet over a piece of expensive equipment and shutting it in a storage room. He knew it was there but it was a satisfying feeling that it wasn’t cluttering up his workspace anymore, being a hazard. He felt lighter.
Hugh exhaled with a relief he didn’t know the cause of but relished nonetheless. Thank you, Lady, thought Hugh. I will grow and become strong enough to bear that which has now been shut away.
Strength won’t be enough, warned Knowledge.
Hugh stood up from his meditation pose and walked to the small window of the cell he was meditating in. He smiled contentedly out upon the clear winter’s day streets of Oullins. He realised that the window shouldn’t be so small. This was the cathedral of Knowledge. The window should be enormous! Outside is where the knowledge was. The clergy should spend more time looking out.
Then I’ll become enough, thought Hugh.