“How dare you address …,” the raging nobleman screamed before his voice faded away. And then it returned as the bloom of health radiated out of the [Heartfire] a few feet away. “... insolent manner, you worthless mongrel!”
Joe couldn’t move while the furious knight frothed over him. His whole body was unresponsive. He could only hope that another kick was not forthcoming. Joe looked and saw he had a single point of health, which meant that he had been dead a second ago.
Again. For the second time on the same day.
Feeling like an utter idiot, all he could do was lay there waiting for [Heartfire] to release another wave. He was afraid to try and use [Healing Touch], fearing it might provoke Sir Groven again. Joe knew he had gotten lucky with the timing of the [Heartfire]. One more strike and it would be the end of him.
“I am not some backwoods bachelor to be treated with disdain by the chaff and chattel. The House of Suttrel has served the peerage of Amberwroth for centuries. Stand worm. So that I may show you the folly of your offense.”
“He can’t, Sir,” a braying voice cried out. “You have nearly slain the young man. He is a newcomer. Freshly crossed. I’m sure he meant no insult.” Joe thought it might be the elder faun, Seesae.
“Then he is ill-suited for this world if he believes he can besmirch his betters and not hang for the impertinence,” the armored nobleman growled. “His actions have earned him a place in the Master’s dungeon tonight, and if I have any say in the matter, he shall meet the gallows on the morn.”
“That would be ill-advised, Sir Groven,” a deep yet familiar voice interjected. “This man has been brought to us by the One Above today …”
“So he claims. He reeks of the vile realm of fey. I say he be a spy of their wicked courts.”
“Then you must have dealt him a tremendous blow. To fell an agent of the fey with a single backhanded strike is no small feat, Sir Knight.”
In the long pause that followed the jotun’s statement, Joe realized his magical campfire was about to release another pulse. While Joe could barely move, he did note that one of his hands was trapped under his leg. He used that contact to cast [Healing Touch] as surreptitiously as he possibly could.
You have restored 18 points of your health. Your current health is at 65%.
Your skill [Healing Touch] has increased to rank 9.
As a horrid popping sensation of vertebrae realigning themselves filled Joe, Sir Groven finally broke his long pause, for the first time, sounding a tad unsure of himself.
“Well, I had not expected the interloper to be quite so fragile,” the cavalier stammered, “but it does make for a clever ploy on their part.”
“Or he could be what he says he is,” Gurda countered. “A newly minted gift from the One Above to our community. A blessing of trust from the Giver of Fates, a trust that you have now shattered. Woe be to the House of Amberwroth should you be wrong.”
Voices from all angles murmured their agreement with the giantess. Joe was still afraid to turn his neck but he cracked open an eye to see dozens of feet standing in a ring around them. Looking as far up as he could, he saw both faces he knew, but many more he didn’t. It seemed as though the majority of the small community had flocked from their homes and now stood beside their neighbors in a resolute ring around him.
“Is this man in your employ, Madam Eldauk?” Groven Suttrel inquired.
“He is not,” she answered. It was clear she was about to add more but she was cut off by the soldier, who had refound his confidence.
“Then what concern is it of yours? He likely is taking money from your coffers. Take this rabble and disperse. I will dispose of this huckster.”
“Did you not hear me? This is no snake-oil salesman. This man is truly gifted with the hands of a healer. I have seen the benefits of his gifts. A goodly number of Crowfield’s citizens have had their ills lifted this day.”
Her more fervent tone shifted to a softer, more reasonable voice as she added. “Why not chalk up this ill encounter and a mishap of poor judgment from a Newcomer? I am quite sure the young man has learned his lesson. Is that not correct, Joe?”
Spitting out dirt and grass, Joe managed to grunt out a muttered “Sorry” before wincing due to the wave of torment issuing from his jaw.
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“See. He is contrite and already well chastised. Any further abuse would surely be excessive,” the deep-voiced jotun assured.
A long tense pause filled the green until, finally, the nobleman spoke again.
“This is the very last time I will forgive his insolence. I have endured his ill-mannered judgment and familiarity once already. There will not be a second stay of execution. If you hunger for his hedgemage healing, then I suggest you teach him his place here in Duskrug.”
As man’s seething footfalls stomped away and Joe no longer feared an immediate retaliation, he clenched his hand, causing his fingers to touch his palm.
You have restored 10 points of your health. Your current health is at 100%.
Your skill [Healing Touch] has increased to rank 10.
It sure didn’t feel like 100%. Joe’s jaw was in agony. Pain, it seemed, wasn’t instantly healed away, even if the body was technically repaired. It would take a little while before the ache faded completely. Unfortunately, that meant his face was going to feel like it was on fire for a while longer.
The only plus side to this completely idiotic lapse of judgment was that he finally hit ten ranks in a skill. He received two in a row, in fact. That only seemed to happen on the first couple uses of a new skill.
Gaining skill ranks was clearly influenced by the situation in which the skill was used. Joe was beginning to think that the more it mattered the more likely a skill was to rank up.
He had thought he would hit ten ranks with [Assess Wounds] first, given that he could just look at everyone around and check out their state of health. Yet he only ever seemed to gain a rank when he was assessing someone he was actually about to heal. If he didn’t really care about the answer, then spamming assessments did not result in skill gains.
He stretched his jaw and found where the point of impact was. A sharp throb brought his hand to his mouth, both in a pain-reflex and to check for loose teeth. As he wiggled one of his molars, he glanced up at the circle of villagers surrounding him. Front and center was the giantess, who looked both concerned and annoyed at the same time.
“I warned you, Joe Healer. The aristocracy of this kingdom is not to be trifled with. They are a proud and waspish caste. What possessed you to be so flippant with a fortieth-level Knight of the Golden Edict?”
“Sorry. Culture shock. My country does not have kings and knights. We have politicians and policemen, who only get as much respect as they earn. No freebie groveling required.”
“Well, you were surprisingly lucky you did not get yourself killed.”
“I’m pretty sure I did get myself killed. At least for a second or two,” he mused, continuing to stretch his neck. The gasps around him caught his attention. The villagers were all staring at him with a mix of emotions that Joe couldn’t read. “What? What did I say?”
“It be an old fable: ‘Death and the Fool’,” Thornon replied. Joe carefully turned his head to see the dwarf standing behind him. “It be told every Soultide. Let’s see; the short version of the parable goes: ‘The Fool was reborn both babe and man. After Death had let him go once already, he met Reaper again that day. Death said, ‘Walk with me and know peace. Walk from me, and be born anew.’”
“We’ve been wondering what would happen if a newcomer died the same day he or she crossed into Illuminaria,” the soft voice of the slyph-kin, Madam Leebreeze, stated. “You are the first I have ever heard that has done so. Well, the first not to stay dead, that is. There are sad tales of Newcomers dying on their first day and the dark days that follow each untimely killing of one of the Quest Giver’s chosen.”
“Which is why Sir Groven’s actions have brought us all here in defense of your folly, Joe,” Gurda huffed. “We do not wish to see Crowfield so cursed by your untimely death.”
Joe clamped down on the flippant ‘Oh, I thought you cared’ remark that almost escaped his mouth. This was not the time for tension-wrought humor. These people had literally just saved his life.
“What do your scrolls say?” asked a young man who Joe did not recognize. This comment was hushed by a number of those present.
“Scrolls?” Joe asked.
“Yer slate, Joe,” Thornton supplied. “Henrick’s ill-mannered question was asking if ya have any word from the One Above?”
“Oh. Let me check.”
Sure enough, Joe had several windows at the edge of his vision, which he had failed to notice with everything else going on at the moment. Once he became aware of them, he somehow knew exactly which one referred to the topic the villagers were referring to.
New Quest [The Fool’s Second Death]
You have unlocked a Prophetic Quest. Choose between the following options.
⚪ 🃛
Two symbols appeared in the window. The first was a coin bearing the face of a skull on it. As Joe looked at it, he immediately thought of the Greek myth of Charon and the coin for the dead. The other was a tarot card depicting a skeletal knight holding a large flag on the back of a horse. The card made Joe think of Sir Groven with his steed and banner. This caused him to almost instinctively reach for the coin, but he stopped himself.
There was more here than his prior achievements. Joe could feel a heaviness in the air, as if the world was watching this choice. Joe looked away from the enigmatic options and addressed those anxiously waiting around him.
“I have been offered a choice,” he said out loud to no one in particular. “My options are definitely related to death. Thank you all for saving me, but I may need a minute to sort this choice out by myself. I promise I will explain it when I know more.”
Joe saw most of the Crowfielder’s nod and murmured something about him being wise to ponder this message. A few looked disappointed, but they, too, were led away as the group dispersed to give him room to think.
As the green emptied, Joe walked over to his borrowed stool. He dropped a [Heartfire] by his feet, even though he was at full health. The fire’s warmth helped soothe his throbbing jaw.
Sitting back down, Joe pondered this latest and, so far, his most portentous choice.