“Well?”

“It’s showing me a different screen. One I haven’t seen before.” Jasper had kept himself cagey so far about how little he knew, about how strange this world was to him; the last thing he wanted was to out himself as an outsider.

But this time, he sensed he wasn’t supposed to know.

“I thought it might.” Big Dog answered, stepping forward. “Did one of the gods give you a talent?”

“Yes, uh– Cutting Words. From a god called Bell.” He was putting things together as he talked. Sun, Moon, Shadow, Candle, Owl– They must all be gods. And the screen was recording the gifts they gave him.

“You Ardish folk may have forgotten, but Midlund was its own realm once. We had our own gods, our own rules, our own Divine Game.” It was the most he’d ever heard the big man speak at once, so Jasper paid close attention. “It wasn’t your kind of game– no heroes, no one man against a thousand beasts. It was a game of borders and warfare, of thousands of troops marching across the map. Its why our land is divided into hexes, even still.”

“But we lost.” That single, grim admission carried a deep bitterness, like he was clawing open an old wound. “Your gods slew War and Peace, and Candle, that craven bastard, turned sides.”

“I don’t know why you– an Ardishman of all folk– would be blessed by our gods, but it seems you are. Those coins you have are what we called Levy-Price. In the old days, every soldier, every warlord, every fool would receive their price in coin every night, so long as they were aligned to a fortress. These days…” He shrugged. “I hear scattered tales of people with Bell’s powers, still. I imagine he must be still alive. Fighting the fight in whatever way he can…”

No. Jasper realized. He ran away to Earth, didn’t he? And if the Witch is right, if he had a reason to send me here…

It probably wasn’t to invade. It was to settle his grudge with the last invaders.

The thought of being a proxy in a divine war sent a prickle down his spine.

“Your gift must be awakening the fort, at least a little. I don’t know if it will end here. Maybe all the power that’s left in this old ruin is just enough to give you your Levy– maybe there’s more to come…”

He drifted into silence.

Jasper broke it. “What do I do with these, then?”

“Oh.” He almost seemed surprised by the question, before he laughed. It was probably such common knowledge that Jasper sounded like a child. “Give them to the altar. It will let you Advance.”

Nodding, Jasper let the coins spill from his hands. As soon as they touched the stone of the altar they dissolved, flashing once and becoming streams of pale– smoke? No, something else. Insubstantial and translucent but closer to weightless water than to smoke.

The ribbons of liquid flashed with bright colors within their depths, and reached for him. Without ever seeming to actually touch his skin, they plunged into his chest, and Jasper felt a strange and exhilarating sense of power flood through him.

Jasper Stone

Fool of Little Rank

Sworn to the Fort of Oakhold

Choose thy path

Minstrel

‘Anthem’

Each ally that listens to your song or performance gains a slight increase in might, alacrity, and will for as long as they remain in the same hex. As long as you are playing, they cannot suffer from Broken Morale.

Operative

‘One of Those Faces’

You appear to all observers of the same race as a unit of their nation. While you hold the tool or weapon of an enemy unit, you gain a portion of that unit’s class bonuses, equal to the benefits one tier below your own.

Two choices.

One spoke to what he’d been doing– performing, creating, making art. But it was also wholly a supporting role. It was an ability for someone in the background, a bit player who let others take center stage.

And Jasper– as much as he’d come to enjoy being an entertainer– was still unwilling to accept a life in the shadows backstage.

The other ability was for someone who struck out on their own, who wandered behind enemy lines and into danger. And in a way, that was the path Jasper had already embarked on; like the Witch had said, it had only taken him days to become a part of the bandit troupe. How much faster could he have moved with this talent, not appearing foreign, picking up talents as easily as he picked up tools?

They were both tempting.

But only one would help him when he left this place.

Thinking of his future, Jasper said– “Operative.”

The energy poured into him. He felt something break inside him, and stumbled back as his heart seized and went still in his chest. He could feel the energy pouring through his veins, slow and cold and prickling with electricity. It filled him– and his heart began to beat again, his muscles tensing.

It was a strange feeling; he felt remade and fresh and energized.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

A band of runes had appeared on his wrists. They flowed together into an unbroken chain.

Big Dog clapped his hand onto Jasper’s shoulders. “There you are. A proper soldier of Oakhold, now. And you look the part. Less… foreign..”

“It’s really as simple as collecting coins?” Jasper raised an eyebrow. It seemed too easy, for the power brimming inside his chest.

“It gets more expensive every time. It’ll take weeks for the next level, months for the one after that, and years to hit your fourth. And not all of us collect coin for sitting around; bandits, like my boys, have to pillage goods and sacrifice them. Soldiers grow over time, but legionnaires have to keep conquering territory to draw a Levy-Price. Different types of soldier for different needs. Back in the old days…”

Mist had crowded into the edges of the Big Dog’s eyes.

“You were a soldier?” Jasper asked, mostly hoping to prod more knowledge about the world free.

“Aye. I was a Commander of Oakhold, when it was something worth commanding.” He glanced back; the shadows were swirling in the doorway. “I served under Beremeht, Demigod and last of Midlund’s trueborn kings. We fought shoulder to shoulder once. He was– glorious.”

And dead. Jasper couldn’t help but feel he’d been given a raw deal. Conjured to the losing side of a war that was already fought to its end, its heroes buried. What was he supposed to do?

“In the end, he gave himself up to spare his army. There was nothing else he could’ve done– but I know plenty of kings who would’ve forced their men to fight on, futile or not, to buy them another day or two. When they– when he died, it was by the Dauphin’s own sword. That was an honor. They buried him honorably, too.”

Jasper didn’t understand why that should matter– who cared what they did with your body, or how you died? Dead was dead. But listening to Big Dog, he almost felt it did matter, just by the force of conviction carried in the man’s words.

“Ah, but you’re a young lad. And Ardish! These aren’t your kings or your battles…” Big Dog shook himself free of the past with a kick of his head, tossing back his wild hair. “But perhaps we share a god, now. Bell’s taken an interest in you… That means something more, something yet to come…”

In the distance, there was a scraping sound.

If Big Dog had been halfway back to the present moment, now, he snapped the rest of the way there in a blink.

“You took Operative?” He asked.

Jasper nodded.

“Then you can fight.” Drawing a second sword from his belt, a short and stout blade, he tossed it over. Without thinking Jasper caught the handle–

And he felt his world shift. It was a strange feeling, like watching a hidden image become clear. Suddenly he had knowledge that had been absent a moment before– the muscle-memory of hours of battle, years of practice. His fingers gripped the hilt and he shifted the blade, taking up a ready stance. A stance he hadn’t known until a moment before.

He could fight.

You are mimicking the class

Bandit of No Importance

‘Strength in Numbers’

Gain increased instincts related to fighting alongside allies, and increased combat acuity when fighting in greater numbers than your opponents.

“Woah. I- I know kung-fu.” Jasper mumbled.

But the Big Dog was already striding forward, and Jasper’s new instincts said– Don’t split up. Stay close. Watch his back.

“Don’t get overconfident, lad.” The Big Dog called back, not turning. “You leveled today, but you’re still a greenhorn. A level can’t replace real experience. Stay back and only fight to defend yourself.”

They stepped into the dark together.

And eyes watched them from the depths of shadow. A hissing cry filled the air– Jasper’s eyes adjusted to the dark and the shapes of the enemy came into focus.

They were hunched and low, crouched onto all fours, with gangly long limbs and hideously extended fingers. Their faces were empty– eyes lost, mouth open, shadows pooling in the hollows.

Two of them. Jasper’s eyes darted to the corners, searching…

Three. One hidden in a room deeper down the hall, watching them, waiting to leap for their backs when the first two had them distracted.

“Three.” He said.

The Big Dog nodded. “Ghouls.”

And then the battle started– one of the ghouls leaped forward, flicking itself up into the air with a frog-like kick. Its long arms stretched down for Big Dog–

And Big Dog stepped under, sweeping his blade high and splitting the beast down the middle. His longsword flashed overhand– the swing was so powerful and so quick that Jasper only saw the beginning and end, everything between a blur– and split the ghoul at the shoulder, down across its chest, and out again at the opposite hip.

The blade came down level and the Big Dog roared, lunging forward with a piercing strike. The remaining ghoul flinched and kicked back, scrambling away.

The third ghoul was coming.

It scrambled out, rushing across the ground with an eerie speed. It looked like a spider, all scuttling motion and long spindly limbs.

The Big Dog didn’t turn–

Jasper stepped into the way.

“You look like a necrophiliac's most embarrassing date.” The knife appeared in his hand, and he flung it straight ahead. It struck into the ghoul’s leg–

And did nothing.

The creature leaped, but not straight for Jasper. His first swing– anticipating an attack– swept through empty air as the ghoul landed on the ceiling. Somehow– magic, Jasper guessed– it moved upside down, and dropped past his head and behind his back.

Claws raked down with the movement. Its full weight was behind the grisly, chipped yellow nails as they grabbed hold of Jasper’s back and tore downwards. His shirt ripped open, his flesh shredding in long trails of blood.

He stumbled forward, ripping himself free, and spun around. His blade carried the weight of the turn– and with one heavy-handed blow, he cut one of the ghoul’s hands away, chopping through at the wrist. Something yellow– not blood– spilled out.

The Big Dog was chasing the second ghoul down. His blade was a flashing trail of light in the dark. It cut again and again, fluid strokes returning to guarded position, all efficiency, not a drop of strength wasted– the ghoul turned to flee and the longsword hammered down into its skull, splitting its brain apart and biting down into a hollow eyesocket.

In a moment, he’d return.

In a moment, the fight would be over.

But for that moment–

Jasper was alone against the last ghoul.

It leapt for him. His sword pierced into its chest, his full strength and the ghoul’s skinny weight colliding to send the point piercing out through its back, between its shoulder blades, an inch off from the spine. The force of the clash sent Jasper back, his foot turned underneath him, and the ghoul brought him to the ground. Its claw ripped against his face….

And its mouth reached down, yawning open, stubs of broken teeth glinting like razors.

“Hands off! Some of us still have hope for an open coffin!”

And with his sword stuck fast through the ghoul’s empty belly, he reached out to seize the knife that appeared in his hand. With a scream of rage, he swung it down, cracking open the ghoul’s brittle skull and piercing into the meat of its brain.

The stick-thin, gangly body atop him fell limp. Yellow blood and gray matter dripped around his fist.

The Big Dog’s hand reached down and pulled the dead ghoul away. He grasped Jasper by the wrist, and pulled him to his feet.

“Good job.” Jasper gasped out.

“And the same to you.” His face was finally readable– battle had cracked open his stone facade, and left the raging emotion beneath clear. “But I knew their faces– and I could do without putting down any more old friends.”

Jasper paused…

“I thought you said the demigod, he…”

“He gave himself up willingly to save us, aye.” The Big Dog said. “But the enemy didn’t hold their bargain.”