South Jaga City, Job Hall – Year 1344, Month 1, Day 8. Spring

Olea Munroe

“What is a Soul Skill?”

I had asked the question thinking Master Doogan would have some ideas as what it meant but the question seemed to hang in the air like a bad odor. Should I have asked Sicily, or someone else – maybe someone at the church on Imperial Way. I didn’t know, and Help-Chan was absent from any input on the subject.

“Soul skills?” answered Doogan slowly, “What’s gotten into your noggin this time, I don’t believe there is any such thing.” He turned to face me again as the door closed in front of him on quiet hinges.

“Nope, I’m sure they’re a thing. I have a Soul Skill, got it yesterday.” I said helpfully, even happily. How often could I have knowledge not had by the master of the hall. I’m not counting knowledge from Earth, that would be an unfair comparison. Was Newton relevant? Did things that went up ever not come down? Moving on! “I was just hoping you could help me understand how to use it.”

“Well shit.” Was the mumbled reply from the grumbly bear of a man. Even his beard looked annoyed.

At this point I was beginning to think I’d been had, bamboozled, and or misled with his previous claim of ignorance. It was probably too late for me to act on the out he had given me. Who knew if surveillance was a thing, could there be recording magics at work, was the wind carrying our conversation so some unseen villain in the walls. I had no idea.

“Is it so bad, am I cursed?” My first worry was that the skills were nefarious, I mean Vessel of Souls sounded right ominous. “Should I not have asked, is it by chance bad manners? Talk to me Doogan.”

“Lass, you have stumbled onto something you really should not know about. Would be better you never mentioned them again, leastways in the presence of unknown observers.” He said the last while eyeing the walls. Maybe I was right to be paranoid. “Now when did this happen? These things usually have some trappings and costs. Prices to be paid for the boon they provide.”

I thought back to the previous evening, the twisted dreams of my past. Would I experience those memories again, I thought I had buried my past on Earth before I had even been brought here. Not looking forward to remembering anything else. Nope, not even close to cool with that idea.

“Last night. It was last night; I’d hit level three when I saw that they were there.”

“Level three, I keep forgetting that you are so woefully under leveled. It must have been an easy life…” His words trailed off as his eyes softened with a frown forming behind his beard. “Nay, not easy. Some things make a little more sense now. Before we talk any more may I ask a different question?”

“Sure.” I said, confused myself by the turn in conversation. “What’s on your mind?”

“Last night, I don’t want to draw up bad memories. The gods know life gets rough at times; some things are very obviously not good. But the thing in your dreams last night, that memory.” And here his voice took on a flat empty tone, “Is there anything that needs doing to maybe alleviate that threat, make it go away. I am sure something could be done to help you if you, you know, needed something done. Will someone be coming for you?”

“What do you mean?” I was pretty sure what he meant, but again I had to make sure we were on the same page. I hate sharing my drama with other people. It isn’t that I don’t like attention, we all do. I just did not want or need the pity or scorn that comes with that sort of attention, I preferred lighter emotions to be at play.

“No hiding it girlie, you were right spooked. Either something happened or you are afraid something will happen. You would be less open if you had a fear of something coming versus something that had already come due but might come again.” He said the last before walking back over to sit opposite me.

“Past unpleasantness, sir.” I sighed, Doogan was a smart man. And to think I warranted such care that he would proposition me with the offer of eliminating my source of worry. The act of killing another put on the table so freely kind of drove home the thoughts of a different world rather clearly.

“Anything we need to prepare for then?” he asked, eyes not leaving mine.

“No sir, he’s already dead. Long dead and far gone.”

“You do it yourself, or some foul accident take them off the table?”

“He was killed by someone else sir.”

“Good.” Doogan’s frown straightened a little, easing into what was closer to a smile less like a grimace. The beard made it difficult to tell even from here. I immediately suspected magical manipulation. “You are far too young to be worrying about that kind of danger, and no one should need worry about such things in an ideal world.”

“Right.” I nodded as I continued to hold back my welling emotions. I had had a lot of practice hiding the pain through the years. I think he knew that. I would like to think he did at any rate.

“Now then!” he said slapping a hand to the table. “Your skill, what skill is it and what does it do.”

“Skills sir, more than one. Also, I don’t know what they do. There is no description.” The last words came out almost like a complaint, worsened by the tightness of my voice as the images of last night’s dream were still fresh in my treacherous mind.

“They? You have more than one Soul Skill.” His left brow shot up ever so slightly causing his eyebrows to dance a bit before settling.

I simply nodded again.

“Show me.”

“Eh?” I said, hit by the bus that was unexpectedly presented. Show him, I had no idea what he meant.

“Show me the skill.” He said again.

“I don’t know how to use it, are you sure?”

A light popped on in his head, eyes widening slightly before he said, “No. Not at all. I meant show me your skill description, let me see what your message says.”

“How?”

“You don’t know how? Never mind. You just need to focus on your desire to share it with me, it’ll come.”

“You make this sound like more than it actually is.” I said to the man as I was thinking about my display being sent to him.

To that remark I got a slap on the head, not the gentlest slap as it sent my head rocking slightly.

“I’ll have none of that talk from you Olea. It’s bad enough we have the door barred, if my wife were not so frightening, I am sure the rumor mill would go crazy with such gossip.”

As I began to get distracted at the images of what his wife must look like I sensed that my Will had conveyed my desire to share my information with the grumpy old man.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Name: Olea Munroe

Level: 3

Archetype: Street Surgeon

Age: 16 Winters

Health: 75/75

Mana: 79/79

Stamina: 80/80

Attributes:

* Strength: 10

* Dexterity: 13

* Constitution: 10

* Charisma: 16

* Intelligence: 13

* Wisdom: 7

You have three Attribute Points Remaining.

Experience To Level: 5260 remaining of 7000.

Skills:

Nine skill points remaining.

Stealth - Rank 1

* Pierce - Rank 1

* Sneak - Rank 1

Piety - Rank 2

* Cure Wounds - Rank 2

Triumvir Soul Skills

* Vessel of Souls

* Soul Link

* Dowsing

“Ah, yes. Let’s see here. Level three, check. Hah, you are a street surgeon now, must be the extra level in Cure Wounds that changed that. Strength of a child. Might make a good jongleur with the dexterity. Constitution, sickly. Charisma is high even for a local politician, elf thing maybe?” He continued muttering insulting things as he read through the status screen, what even was a jongleur? “Intelligence thirteen, I’d have never guessed. Wisdom seven, obvious. Ok, attribute and skill points…” he stopped speaking as his gaze went from vacant half room stare to fixating on me.

I was just starting to notice the change in atmosphere when he spoke again.

“Come with me, don’t say anything to anyone. I want you to say nothing at all until I say so, eyes forward.”

I began to say something only for Doogan to put his finger to my lips and scowl.

“Say nothing. Let’s go.”

And so it was that I followed the stout man through the twisting turning halls of the building, down a flight of stairs into another hallway of unremarkable variety. We saw many smiling faces as we made our way down another staircase to the ground level, I almost spoke up when I saw a curious look from Sicily before a motion ahead of me made her gaze slide away as she busied herself with some imaginary tasks. Rude! We walked through a sturdier door off another boring hallway and stepped onto the landing of another staircase that went up and down. Master Doogan went down the narrow stairway saying nothing, and I obligingly followed. I daresay that my behavior and feigned solemnity under the circumstances was worthy of merit.

At the bottom of the stairs, we entered a downward sloping tunnel. Tunnel not hallway, I would hazard that we had travel vertically thirty feet of stairs to reach this area. Smooth rock walls lit at regular intervals using orbs of light that were ensconced in the walls to both sides giving an almost blue tint to the stone. The tunnel was broken up every fifty feet by a four-way intersection with two doors entering private rooms between each. There were three such intersections before the tunnel ended ahead with a solitary door at a T-junction. I was guessing distances at this point but assuming it was uniform I would hazard the hall ran a solid two hundred feet before that last door.

Master Doogan paused for a moment, and I felt the air around us thicken and bend as if it were being compressed by an unseen energy. The pressure built steadily over the course of three seconds before being released as an oddly localized breeze.

“This way.” Doogan said as he headed down the tunnel. We passed two intersections before entering a door on our left baring a closed eye symbol drawn over a large hammer. I have found the local Illuminati!

The room was sparsely furnished. I saw ten simple, sturdy chairs circling a sizable ovoid table. The floor was covered in the hide of some large beast, giving my feet some refuge from the hard stone floor. I forgot to put on shoes.

“Sit.”

One word and I found myself sitting while Doogan paced around the room muttering to himself. The walls were covered in maps of the area and strange pictures of strange things, including a creature that seemed to be eating itself starting at the tail. I did not see dogs playing poker or cats toying with yarn. The air felt cold but not unpleasant, reminiscent of hospital air conditioning. I was surprised to notice the lack of odor in the room, no smell of leather or mold. It was odd being underground and not picking up those scents familiar to a cave such as iron, dust, or moss. I know the place seemed man-made, but it was hard to wrap my mind around the bare granite being everywhere and this not being a cave. I’m special, in a not so good way I understand this and have accepted it. I’m betting there is a rock monster down here somewhere who specializes in mental warfare… or maybe it’s just a basement.

“Why?” The question came with no preamble delivered from behind me and to the left as Doogan continued circling the table. Maybe he couldn’t think standing still.

“Why? Why what?” was my only response. I rightly did not know what was on his mind, what did he mean by why anyway? My mind briefly flitted through various scenarios I had seen in movies and read of in modern literature. The types where the brilliantly, charismatic, and dare I say it beautiful female lead would be drawn into a secret organization before being trained to become a world class spy or champion of justice.

“Focus girlie.”

Argh, I’m still in reality it seems. I trained my gaze on the grumpy grump in front of me.

“Really, cloak and dagger scenes are fun and all, but why are we down here in the basement?” I am nothing if not curious. And focused, yep!

“How is it that you have so many skill points, or attribute points for that reason?” he asked, finally stopping in his circular travel to stare at me.

Odd question, unless I am forgetting something. I had thought I was mostly normal aside from my lack of need to visit some high and mighty trainer to learn my skills. Help-chan, any ideas?

‘The current denizens obtain much fewer system awarded points as they advance in power. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that you have more than triple what a typical level three person had in stock while also having eight points of skills you have already learned has caught your friend rather flat-footed.

“Oh…” I cleverly said. Really that for some reason did not seem to be so important.

“Oh?! Ye show me a detail sheet that should belong to someone in the Hero Tier and all you say is ‘OH’ Lass ye be making my life quite stressful.” He looked at me again. “Do you have any idea what I am talking about?”

I was not entirely sure where to go here. Did I bring him into the warren, yanking him down the proverbial rabbit hole of the gods intervening in my life to bring me here. Did I play dumb and hope it all worked out somehow? Argh, lying sucks. Well lying to idiots and people I disliked was fun, but yes, friends get truth. I thought of Doogan as a friend, hell most everyone in the hall so far had been very nice to me. One fellow even lent me his jacket, I should return that.

“Okay, Doogie. Doogan. Master Doogie. You want to sit down for a few minutes? I promise I will tell you what you want to hear. It might not make sense, but I’ll tell it anyway.” Going for the rabbit hole abduction bit, I wonder if I can rope Sicily or the orphans in. I can see myself founding a large Oliver Twist school for street rats and scoundrels.

I led Doogan through the line of events that was my life back home, glossing over quite a bit of my time in foster until the later years, good times need extra time in conversation. He only interrupted me when I got to the part where I had come to my senses in the captains’ home near the warehouse district. Apparently, the guard was still looking for me, though they had hit a wall as the girl was too emotional to remember my face and my clothing had easily hidden the fact that I was a dark-haired girl, not a dark-haired boy. I told him about my first encounter with the crow when he asked me about my thoughts on why it was following me around. I explained how I met the orphans, and using my funds to buy them some food, they would probably need some more help soon unless Keen was getting his shit together. Poor Keen.

I mentioned the whole orphan problem and was promptly told to continue the story and ask stupid questions later. Blargh, anyway. Went through my rat slaying adventures and my time spent navigating the city. He asked me questions about who I had spoken to and if I had said anything damning. Not sure what he meant by damning, I went on to elaborate and let him know who I had spoken with. He was tickled when I mentioned the old ladies who had tried to set me up with their children. He knew them. I told him what I knew of currency and let him know who I had discussed it with. A whole slew of things I saw no point in adding to my story were brought up and added to his mental image of my travels.

Some of his questions were a little annoying but I noticed about midway through the moment he went from wary to empathic. I think he had planned on making some hard choices and was relieved that I was just me, whatever that meant going forward.

As an afterthought I mentioned my friend Help-chan and how he was talking to me all the time and how I seemed to be one of the few people in the world who could hear him, aside from the others I kept hearing mentioned. Wait, was it hearing if I did not really perceive them through my physical senses?

It seems that my non-imaginary friend was something when Doogan gaped at me for a full minute. It seemed like a minute to me, having to wait and being afraid that I had finally broken his brain-meat was a bit stressful itself. All that effort could have been wasted!

At the end of my story Master Doogan told me to discuss the matter with no one. He also told me that he would need time to consult some of his friends and superiors regarding a few things I had said. Before I was shepherded from the room he placed a silver band on my right hand, it would apparently let me leave without being murdered by the lights in the hallway. Nice to know. I was also informed that a man named Alex would be waiting for me whenever I was ready to get to work for the day and that I was to tell him that we were staying local for this trip. I’d be told later.

Typical.