We spent a year with the Lierin elves.
If Fulgen elves were the "High Elves" of fantasy, the Lierin were the "Wood Elves". More down-to-earth than their brethren from the nut-eating continent and with a taste for the road, the Lierin didn't huddle in their glorified garden of a forest forever. They liked to wander and explore new places. With its spot in central Auvanini, Windemere was a safe haven for them.
Eavesdropping the elves' conversation, I learned a shocking truth about the System. Another massive change to the Exp tables was coming, one that threatened to rock me to my very core. I couldn't see what it was, but the common user felt very thrilled by it. The old-timers sent glances of envy at "how easy" it was for the newcomers to level up, especially at higher ranks.
I trained every day. Baby gymnastics. I rolled on the bed back and forth hundreds of times, then crawled for miles around the elven grove. Once I got the strength to walk and talk, I wobbled and mumbled until I'd nailed it. I found this drive to excel at what I set myself off to do exhilarating. I was freakingly strong for a baby. It wasn't the dwarven heritage, it was all the Perks and Proficiencies I had. But I couldn't stay with the elves any longer.
The morose political scene was getting worse and Windemere was on the brink of civil war. Only the discipline of the Nagini Knights and the Dark Shadows (as Kazuyran's merry band of [Assassin] police at the service of the King-less Crown was known at the time) prevented the conflict from blowing up. Because every other faction knew that the moment they started attacking civilians, the Rainbow Lamias would flood out from their walled enclave and the assassins would hunt down the key figures of the troublemaking faction. So long they kept their squabbling civil and the backstabbing to a light degree, the two groups would sit on their fucking arses and do nothing.
But people were getting bold. And I was a trump card that could rally everyone around whoever I appointed as the next King. Even myself if I wanted to, which I didn't. Fuck no. I had to go away and hide.
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Dressed in some baby clothes that were in fashion some seven hundred years ago Wyxnos-knows-where I got from my item box, I said my goodbyes to the Lierin. I extended a chubby arm toward their leader, the same woman that teased me a year ago.
"I'm going now, Matron Pres'Hanya, I thank you for your hospitality. Please accept this small token of our appreciation."
Nenandil had a bag with several gold and platinum coins. It was more than enough to feed, clothe, house, and educate a thousand children for a decade. I was overpaying like a virgin lad in a brothel for the first time and it was ridiculously obvious why. It wasn't to buy sex, I was buying the Lierin tribe's fucking silence. Because they knew better than to try to get one over me but greasing some gears always helped honest people keep their honesty. Rania Pres'Hanya, their leader, took the bag and peeked inside. Her poker face cracked open like a whore's cunt.
"Are you sure you must go? You are always welcome here with us," She lamented but kept a smile.
I shook my head and twitched my ears. "Yes, I'm damn sure. I don't want to be swept in the fucking political struggles of Windemere. I expect the people there can behave like grownups and keep the institutions of the nation alive on their own. I won't swing down from a rope like a posh [Hero] and save them from each and every threat they face. I won't coddle and spoil them."
The old elf lady (for an elf, that was freaking amazing. But the Lierin weren't immortal like the Fulgen. I think they lived about two thousand years on average) nodded. "I hope it doesn't devolve down to bloodshed."
I puckered my lips, frowned, then shrugged. "It will. I am amazed they waited this long before murdering the fuck out of each other."
"The lamias are passing on their turn to test the tabard. They declared they'll work with whoever is accepted but they won't take over the Realm."
My chest swelled with pride. I'd trained those girls very well. "And that's what they should do," I declared and saw a glimmer of light in Rania's eyes. "But if someone dares to hurt them for political gain, I'm going to wipe their stinking arses out of the face of this planet. And then I'm going to find who had the loose tongue to tip them that harming my girls would force my hand, and... do really bad stuff to them."
She nodded and hurried to placate me. "We are with you, Old Soul. The Lierin will also remain neutral in this conflict. I'm going to make a statement tomorrow."
"And now you see why I can't stay here. What if some tracker from the Kin senses me? It will be bad. I want to live in peace this time. Too much war, too much fighting."
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"We will always be ready to help you, old soul. I wish you luck on your way to Sadian."
I hopped on Pandora Airlines 2.0. The Lierin crafters made a bigger, streamlined, and resilient basket for me. Pandora floated up into her spot from behind and Nenandil latched the Wisp chamber closed. Then we were up in the sky and on our way north. Once we were away, the fairy cast an invisibility spell around us.
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We didn't tell the elves, but we knew where to go. We weren't going to Sadian, we were going north alright. They thought we were going north to shake off any tails and change routes, but we did a double-switcheroo. By going north pretending to go south but actually going north anyway. Just our healthy daily dose of paranoia.
There was an orphanage in Rosebush that accepted children from all races. It was funded by the church of Zacheia and was the favorite spot for prostitutes to drop their unwanted kids. Nobody would bat an eyelid at another baby in a basket dropped by the orphanage's doors in the middle of the night. Especially if the baby came with a bag of money.
During this year, Nenandil visited the fairies "next door" to the elves. There she learned all about the orphanage and its customs. After we were away from the elves' eyes we changed my clothes into a black outfit. It would tell the orphanage that both my parents were dead. Then we counted the coins. Five gold coins and seventy-five silver. That was the exact amount to tell the orphanage that I was a bastard child of a noble and while my family wished to keep me away, they were keeping tabs on me from time to time and I should get good treatment at the orphanage and even some tutoring.
And that was a nice way to say, this fucking child is not for sale, assholes! No, the orphanage didn't traffic in children. But to say "it's complicated" was a sissy's way to euphemize it. Once the children were ready for an apprenticeship, some interested parties would gift the temple with some money in exchange for permission to take the children as their apprentices or servants. On the outside, it was a way to compensate the temple for their trouble raising the child...
But the bleeding truth was that the children had little say on the matter. The damn gullible preteens knew no better and were gently nudged out the front door by the priests. The clergy had all the incentives to rotate their guests as fast as possible. They got money, they had one less mouth to feed, and the child had a place to stay and be a productive member of society. Yes, they weren't selling children. No, sir.
And if anyone believed that crap, I had a bridge next to Cymeria to sell to you. It's an enchanted one and vaults over the biggest freaking river in the plains. But I was paying enough to cover admission costs and also to buy my freedom at the end of my tenure there. And the pantheon was my witness, I would keep the clergy honest and faithful.
I wasn't afraid my true origin was found out. One, the dwarves believed me dead. Everyone saw that motherfucker (mother-killer) Fangor Battlehaven toss me into the abyss. Two, my fox-kin or kitsune features were eye-catching enough to distract the eye. Three, my {Unblemished Skin} Perk made my complexion look very un-dwarfish. It was smooth and taut. I had none of the wrinkles and creases common to the dwarven folk. And fourth, unless told, it was hard to figure out at this early stage that a child was a half-dwarf.
Give me a show of hands how many can tell how a dwarven kid should look like. Yeah, what I thought. No, dwarven women had no facial hair. That was so fucked up. Facial hair was triggered by hormones and the sentient species were genetically close enough to breed true. That meant they weren't different species biologically speaking but that's another story. Dwarven women were women, first and foremost. They had the racial characteristics of all dwarves regardless of gender but also the similarities they shared with the other species.
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We reached the orphanage's back door at night. Nobody was watching the door and it had five alleys that led directly to it and a maze of alleys and narrow streets beyond that. It was by design, so people dropping babies could slip in and out without revealing their identities. Stealing from the babies incurred Zacheia's wrath and a nasty curse so the criminal elements stayed away from there.
One guess at what kind of curse the Goddess of Love cast on people (mostly men) that messed with Her temple's livelihood. One hint. New prostitutes learned to recognize the mark and its effects on their first week on the job. The veterans usually sent one such cursed guy to the young whore's room as a kind of hazing. Removing the curse involved years of dedicated service to the Church of Zacheia.
Better go mug somewhere else, most scoundrels thought.
Where was I? Yes, the orphanage. Nenandil put another basket by the porch and I climbed inside. Then she stored Pandora Airlines and my familiars returned to my soul. Time to act. I started to cry.
The door opened after some time and a priestess of Zacheia appeared, pretending to be sleepy. She looked at the basket and smiled. "Oh, what do we have here? A baby foxy! Hello? Did you come to live with us, little..." She took my wrist and looked for a bracelet. Another custom. If the baby had a name, it was usually carved in a wooden slate tied to a twine bracelet. "Haru! What a wonderful name."
She picked me in one hand and the basket in the other. With a shove from her hips, she closed the door.
I saw a chair right next to the door and some embroidery underway. I could see the heat on the needles. The priestess was waiting right by the door for someone to drop a baby, but she waited for some time to give whoever dropped the baby a head start. The amount of detail and protocol involved with something like that was amazing.
She placed me on a crib on the other side of the door. "Wait here, Haru. It's my vigil today and an acolyte will come to pick you up." She turned to take the bag from the basket I came in. "Oh, what do we have here?" The priestess spread the coins on the table and counted them. She came back to look at me with pity. "Five gold, seventy-five silver. You poor thing. Don't worry, we'll take good care of you."
She didn't pocket any of the coins, so that was a win in my book.