“I feel as though my husband’s a [Whore],” the [Bandit Queen] mutters as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“He’s a [Bard], so you’re half right,” Abernick interjects and gets a nod from Darude.

A nod the Named quickly tries to hide when Jessica turns her furious glare at him.

Next to her, Naunet stands bewildered, her mouth gaping. Her brain is barely able to follow along with what she’d just heard.

“So,” Jessica seethes, “while we were worried about about him for the past two days, he was busy fucking an [Empress]?” she asks, calmly. Calmly. Perfectly calm. After all, if she was not calm, she would be setting fire to this room with everyone in it.

Darude swallows and nods. “Yes, [Emperor] Quasi Eludo is currently courting [Empress] Cleopatra.” He steps away slowly as Jessica steps forward. She frowns and squints.

“Did you say [Emperor]?” she asks, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” Darude answers. “Apparently, during the meeting, Quasi’s class elevated from [King] to [Emperor]. His kingdom must have ascended to an empire.”

Jessica closes her eyes. She inhales… exhales.

Perfectly calm.

She consoles herself with the knowledge that Quasi did not get the [Emperor] class from Cleopatra, not that that should be possible.

That does little to help.

“Where is he now?” Fiona asks while Jessica breathes.

Darude releases a breath he’d not realized he was holding. His eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. He is the Bloody Sandstorm, the strongest Named in the empire, and he’s cowering in the face of a mere foreign woman. Even if his [Empress] told him to respect Quasi’s companions, that doesn't mean he needs to pander.

He straightens his back, crosses his arms, and answers.

“Quasi Eludo is currently traveling to the Sanctum of Hermes in the port district.”

Jessica steps forward again and Darude refuses to step back. “Take me to him.”

“No. He has requested to be left alone. Communing with a god is not a sim–Ughhh.”

Jessica is no longer calm.

Darude chokes as a shin rams between his legs. He falls to his knees as his legs give way to the pain.

Jessica grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head up to eye level. Her glowing eyes meet his own.

“I. Wasn’t. Asking.”

________________________________________________________________

Luxor's port district is, quite surprisingly, massive. It probably comprises most of Luxor, a good 70, 80 percent? Yeah, that sounds about right. It makes sense for the city though, considering it’s the only port in the entire empire.

And damn does that 80 percent go a long way. Over three hundred ships are moored and a dozen more come and go at all times. Even better is the vast and varying designs of the ships, from single masted cogs to multi-masted frigates and galleons. The variety in construction is a sight to behold. There’s one ship plated with metal, another made with leather and bone, one covered in shimmering scales, and–is that ship made of raw meat? Huh.

They all look so varied and impressive, enough to distract me for a good hour before I recall why I left the giant crystal worm.

I start. “Uh, shit,” I mumble. I reach into my robe and take out the map given to me by Darude… and frown because I have no point of reference. Where the hell am I?

After a moment, I shrug, put the map away and look around. Somehow, I’ve gotten myself deep into the port where the darker skinned residents of the empire don’t outnumber the foreigners. Dwarfs, lighter skinned humans, beast-kin, massively muscular giants, and a sparse few elves make up the list.

Such diversity makes me, masked and robed in the sweltering desert, easily ignored. It’s kinda pleasing, but also annoying. No weird looks or staring. At most, I get a curious glance and that's it.

“Hmmm, where can I get some directions,” I ponder as I scrutinize the warehouses, homes, shops, and pubs within my line of sight. It would take no effort to wander into a bar, order a drink, and walk out with directions.

“Too simple,” I conclude after a moment of thought. The bars are, to my annoyance, owned by uncivilized philistines. I know these bastards know how to make hinges, I’ve seen a few trapdoors! But not one of them is set up in the proper orientation. You’d think a port city would have some more wood lying around, but nooo… Nothing but cloth covered doors do my eyes behold.

As a level 108 [Door Gentleman], it would be a grave insult to my new class to grace any establishment without a bona fide Door™. Nay, it cannot be a mere standard entrance, but of an acceptable quality one.

Thankfully, to my utter surprise and glee, a pub portaled to my conditions. At the port, swaying softly on the water, is a large galleon. The galleon carries six masts, glows a cold blue on its hull, and has a three-eyed-skull mounted at its front. On its side, glowing in crystalline letters are the words, Witch’s Rest.

Considering the line of people in line to enter the ship, it's clear the thing is functioning as a bar. A glowing magical bar, but nonetheless a bar.

As I wait in line, I watch a muscular [Veteran Sailor] allow some people to enter and turn others away. It takes a few groups of people before I realize what's happening; only the high level patrons are admitted.

Eventually, my turn arrives and the [Sailor] frowns as he looks at me. He squints, as though that will make it easier to read me, but his frown only deepens.

Then he notices my top hat and quickly perks up.

“Ah, a [Gentleman]. Apologies, please head inside,” He quickly moves out of the way.

Raising an eyebrow under my mask, I walk up the plank and alight on the main deck. I turn to the cabin entrance and grin. A door, a wooden, stylized, and glowing door meets my eyes. I flex my toes in anticipation.

I stroll up to the closed door and take a preparatory stance. I feel several passive skills activate, [Hardened Heel], [Eye-Catching Entrance], [The Gentleman’s Arrival], [Refined Gesture], and several others. So many skills resonate, each one made to test every aspect of an entrance with but a single action. I raise my foot and prepare. Shall the door break? Or shall it be one of the few to achieve my approval?

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Before I extend my leg, the door opens and a glaring woman in an enchanted blue robe growls at me. “Who are you? What are you preparing to do? Why is my [Danger Sense] going off?” she asks quickly while I feel the ship seemingly come alive with dozens of enchantments. Mana from the ship surges and connects to the woman, quick as can be.

I immediately activate [Advanced Analyze] on the panicked and surprisingly dangerous woman.

Lumi

Level 261 [Blizzard Witch Captain]

One of the ten most powerful captains on the sea, Lumi runs a thoroughly enchanted galleon that also functions as a bar when it is moored at any port.

The woman feels my skill activate on her, and she frowns as though I just peeked down her cleavage. I feel she tries the same to me, but as expected, her skills pass through me with ease. Then I feel another skill, a presence wafting over me for a moment.

“So, another [Hero] graces the deck of my ship.” She shakes her head. “What do you want? Why are you here? Why are you attacking my ship?” she asks the questions with a burst of aura that washes over me like a mist.

I raise a finger. “I want directions, and maybe a drink… possibly with food,” I raise another finger, “I’m here because all other locations lack a door,” I raise a third and final finger, “and I wasn't attacking your ship. I was merely going to test out your door's durability with my foot.”

Her eyes widen in realization. “Ah, blast. You’re the idiot that destroyed the palace doors, aren't you?”

“Tested the doors,” I correct the misinformed woman, “which, just between the two of us, did not live up to their reputation. I am a connoisseur of doors, and I take it as my duty to make sure that universal door quality is maintained.”

“Get the fuck off my ship,” she growls and I feel the mana comprising the galleon shift at her call. My breath fogs in the suddenly frigid air.

I take a step back and raise a palm. “I would love to. But, see, I’m kinda lost and in dire need of direction.”

“OFF!” she growls and I take another step back. The air seems to chill even more.

“Look, Lumi, it's clear you haven’t properly prepped your door for inspection. If you can just maybe point me to where I can find Hermes’ sanctum, I can go see about his doors instead.

The air doesn't get cooler, but the woman frowns. She points a finger into the distance.

I follow her finger and notice a large building hovering over most other buildings. At the top of the building is a pole with wings and two serpents twirling around it. Right below the pole, glowing magnificently, are the words The Sanctum of Hermes.

“Oh hey! Thanks.” I nod to her. “I’ll be off then! Have your door ready for when I next–”

The chill redoubles, and I take that as my cue to exit stage left.

__________________________________________________________________

The Sanctum of Hermes is actually quite resplendent. Among drab beige and gray buildings, the sanctum is made entirely of polished marble that shines brilliantly in the sunlight. Carving on the walls depict heralds and travelers, honoring scarcely remembered legends of the Messenger God’s speed and trickery. Chiseled into the wall around these scenes are intertwining snakes and wings, stylized versions of the staff he wields. All of this would be made more stunning if it were accompanied by a heavy stone door, with more beautiful images adorning it. Unfortunately, all this hellhole beyond the realms of sane men’s reaches can offer is a curtain.

“I hate this country,” I say as I walk up the steps, aggressively push away the accursed rag, and enter inside. The air cools to a modest temperature and the crystalline lights brighten with my entrance. The inside, like the outside, is all marble, but with vastly more colors and depictions of not only snakes and feathers, but of Hermes himself. Images of the god fluttering through the air, researching alchemy, reading a book, sitting down. It is impressive, but not for what I came for.

Instead, my eyes turn to the single statue at the back, depicting the patron god himself lounging on his throne. Two winged sandals are on his feet and the winged staff, Caduceus, rests in his hand.

I walk to the statue and admire it for a moment, and then turn as my soul shudders.

“Quasi,” a voice emanates behind me. I turn and watch as a jittery, nervous man materializes. He doesn’t live up to his statue at all. “Y-y-y-y-you’ve finished the q-quest!”

Quest: “Deliver the [Scepter of Was] to Cleopatra” completed.

You are now a level 220 [Hero]

“Hermes!” I exclaim, “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. How's my favorite god doing?”

“Busy,” he answers quickly, “t-t-toomuchwar. So busy. Always busy. So much death.”

“Right,” I pause for a moment, recalling his dislike for chitchat. “Anyways, what's the next mission?”

“Baby,” he says

“Baby?” I repeat.

“Augusta. R-return Augustus to the mother!” he says.

New Quest Obtained: “Return the child, Augustus, to his Mother.”

I frown.

“Hermes, that’s cryptic as fuck. I’m going to need you to elaborate a bit.”

Freezing in place, the god swivels his head to the entrance like a snake ready to strike.

The curtains are shoved aside and Jessica enters with heavy stomps. Her mask is off, giving me full view of her murderous expression.

“First a [Princess], then my mother, and now an [Empress]! Why can’t you keep it in your pants whenever we meet an important woman!?” she asks a question that, considering her current state of boiling anger, doesn't matter how I answer.

Her gaze turns to Hermes. She eyes the god with actual distaste. She points. “And who is this?” she asks, then shakes her head, “Actually, I don't care. Get out,” she orders.

The god frowns. “T-this is my sanctum. You have n-no righ–”

Jessica whips her hand forward and, without thought, manifests a shining whip that rips into the marble floor with the crack of a lightning bolt. “OUT!”

The god, a divine being of enormous power, quickly makes haste from the mortal realm in a gust of feathers that causes the [Abbess] to frown.

But only for a moment. Her eyes return back to her quarry.

“Hey, Jess!” I greet her. “Good to see ya! Where’d you get that glowy whip?” I point at the lash of glowing energy. “I was–” just having a chat with the local deity, is what I would have said if I didn’t have to quickly move two feet to the right. The energy whip cracks the marble floor where I had been standing a moment ago.

“EVERY FUCKING TIME,” she whips her hand again and forces me to dodge.

Uh oh.

Maybe peace is still on the table?

I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “Jess,” I speak gently, “it's clear you’re angry, and it's probably justified, but you don't need to take it on the poor building.”

At my words, Jessica screams and creates another whip in her other hand. “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS FUCK EVERYTHING!?”

Her hands twist quickly and both whips flash forward in rapid succession, each strike smashing through the stone as I continue to dodge.

“You’re angry, I can see that, what with the–with the everything going on here. Still, violence isn't the answer, and it won’t really make you feel better.” I reconsider this as I bend backwards to avoid the swipe of a whip. “Well, maybe it would if you hit me, but that's not going to hap–Oh shit!”

Jessica screams. Her two whips split into hundreds. She raises her arms back before flicking her hands forward.

________________________________________________________________

“Do you think we should do something?” Fiona asks Abernick, as they wait outside the temple with Naunet. Noise from the heated exchange echoes out to the front of the temple, worrying some of the passersby.

“Yes,” he says in response as he leafs through one of Jessica’s books on anatomy. Fascinating stuff. Perhaps there are applications to his own field?

“So why are you sitting there?”

Abernick looks up. “Because,” he says with glee, “I don't want to die.”