"The Pale Troll offered little resistance, I should slay the black dragon next," Elin mused, sipping the last of the broth out of her wooden bowl.

The two sat before their hearth, in front of glowing coals, and enjoyed the soup Elin made for the two of them.

Walter chewed a morsel and asked, "That one from my first night in Eovamund? It's Dragonfear Aura nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Mhm."

"Not a chance. I won't say this often, but you're forbidden. For your own good. Stay away from it." Walter's voice was abrupt and businesslike.

Elin blinked, then released an exasperated exhale, "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll die." He put down his bowl and stared at her.

"I'm Level 100, Walter," Elin hugged her knees to her chest, "This is the apex of my power. I'm a poly-lineage heroine--I have the power of two bloodlines--"

He cut her off, "You lost your paladin abilities, Elin. Promise me you won't fight it."

Walter's direct and blunt speech squeezed Elin's heart, and a stabbing sensation spread from her chest. "But the people are counting on me, I have obligations! If I can kill it--"

He cut her off again, "You can't win. Promise me."

"Walter!" Elin's lifted her palms and shook them; she gestured to reason.

"I don't care, you can't help them if you die. You always act like you want me to tell you what to do, but, the one time you should listen, you're ignoring me. Promise!"

Walter never got angry, but she could hear it creeping into his tone. The small hairs on the nape of her neck stood up from alarm.

"I promise!" The words spilled out of her mouth when she sensed the conversation turned. "I'm sorry."

Why did he get angry? No, he looks relieved now. Is the black dragon that dangerous? But, Idrun the First slew an Elemental Hydra without aid. Surely, as his descendant, I can achieve a fraction of that?

Is a Level 100 actually useless?

"Walter?" Elin rested her cheek on her knees, "You're not mad at me, right?"

Walter shuffled over and sat next to her, side-by-side. He angled his arm behind her, and she leaned into it. "No, I'm not mad at you, I got worried. I don't want to see you get hurt because of a mistake I could have prevented."

"I'm not getting any stronger than this, am I, Walter?"

"No," Walter admitted, then said after a moment's thought, "And yes."

Elin searched Walter's face and waited for him to explain.

"I don't know for sure, because what I know doesn't translate perfectly to this world. You're at 30% of your potential. Characters in 'Sorcery Chronicle,' derive their combat ratings from their gear, not their levels. Levels rank up stats and skills. With high-quality equipment and smart fighting, you could take it down. I think."

Elin stared at her feet.

"That doesn't make you happy?" Walter asked, "We just have to find you some enchanted gear."

"That's a serious issue," Elin admitted, "There isn't an abundance of heroic gear in Wilmand. When the Rangville Empire separated after the Battle of the Brothers, the illegitimate successor stole most of them. No doubt, they're preparing them to use against us."

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much," Walter shrugged.

"You said they're the majority of a hero's power, did you not?"

"'Max Tax,'" he said.

She stared under her eyebrows to spur him to explain.

"'Max Tax' is the price you pay for wielding armor and weapons, as each piece subtracts from your maximum mana. It's a balancing mechanic, so beginners can't use gifted gear to cheat the game, and warriors and wizard classes don't mix too much. Using equipment outside your rating is possible, but it comes with penalties, like a temporary reduction in the enchantment, or throttling stamina."

She tugged on his gambeson, "Does this happen to you? Is my demanding you wear protection holding you back?"

"Yeah, but it's so minor it's negligible for unenchanted items. Besides, I like wearing it now."

Elin smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Who would win? Me, without enchanted equipment, or someone weak with such things?"

"You, but be very careful."

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To fulfill their obligations, Walter and Elin opted to dungeon delve. Elin's Level 100 presence crushed the morale of weaker spawned monsters, so none approached willingly. They remained hidden in their coves. Naturally bred monsters, using the dungeons as protection, missed her sphere of influence, and often roamed by.

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Their house was the furthest from Letun and surrounded by a smattering of other abandoned farms, emptied because of the threat. Reducing the enemies would solve both problems at once: the farmers would return, and the natural-born monsters would leave.

Surveyors already peeked the nearby properties, anticipating a return. Additional vegetables and wheat were always welcomed. Since Walter and Elin needed silver, to purchase their own food, she began her violent harvest.

Under normal circumstances, clearing the nearby area required a small-scale military action. Elin compared it to tending a garden. Low-level monsters were mere weeds she plucked. She realized holding back was the hardest part, because using her valkyrie abilities would ruin the area, as well. Fighting, once a struggle of life-and-death, became tedious.

"Where do you think you're going?" she muttered, sliding behind a fleeing hobgoblin and upward-slashing his back. From its ribs to its opposite shoulder, its body separated into parts. Easily defeating such a monster, once a tough fight, healed her injured vanity.

Walter's news ruined her mood.

It's not his fault, the situation can't be helped, and it's good he warned me about the dragon. But, he really needs to learn how to talk to girls.

No matter how much strength Elin possessed, nor how clever Walter wielded his Magic Missile spell, they stood as only two individuals. Furthermore, with Sister Lora and Laira present, Walter refused to stray too far, keeping overwatch on the visitors. Elin fought alone further away.

Still, a single day's monstraculture piled up in the barn; buckets of slime jellies, stacks of skeleton bones, bottles of goblin blood. All metal, cloth, and leather Elin likewise stripped from the slain, and Walter sorted and stacked them. Some of the animalistic monsters Elin bled and dragged to the barn, to be skinned and processed later.

"The cold should preserve them until a butcher arrives, right?" Walter asked.

"Mhm."

He's different since his near-death experience. The squeamishness that plagued him is gone, and he acts with far less hesitation. The nobleman's layer of fat around his belly is gone, too. I've never seen him this focused.

"This is a single day's work?" Sister Lora asked, staring inside the barn.

"I doubt we'll keep this up," Walter said, "Most of this is above ground fighting. Once culled, we'll have to go underground, and the goods will slow. Plus, we'll need to hire workers from the guild to dismantles the stone and traps."

"This is a modest surge of wealth, you're likely secured through the winter. Would you like me to deliver a message to the Adventurer's Guild for you?" Sister Lora said, "They can arrange a wagoneer. I'm feeling like I'm not earning my keep, being protected and not fighting..."

"It's no big deal. Wait," Walter said, "I don't have to carry all this myself?!"

Sister Lora smirked and shook her head.

Almost impressed me.

Laira stared in one of the buckets of slime jelly.

"Don't eat any of that," Walter warned, kneeling next to her, "It tastes horrible."

Laira made a face, "Gross. What madman would?"

Walter closed his eyes in embarrassment.

Elin chuckled.

Well, maybe he's not that different.

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After storing the monstraculture, Walter retreated to a corner with a stack of paper and a pencil. He planned to record his knowledge on 'Sorcery Chronicle,' the game he believed influenced Eovamund the most, and what he retained from Aratron's Grimoire. Walter's conversational skills plummeted while he concentrated. So, Elin busied herself with the chores available.

"I heard you were fetching every bucket of water, and making Walter light all the fires," Sister Lora said.

"As it should be, should it not?" Elin asked, ignoring the accusatory context.

"In some circles, I suppose. You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"In what way?" Elin asked, scrubbing a wooden bowl with sand and water.

Sister Lora crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "The first thing you asked for was a house, and now you're being a dutiful woman. Laying it on Walter pretty thick, don't you think?"

The sound of scrubbing and dripping water filled the air.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Elin said.

Sister Lora studied her nails. "Don't get me wrong, if I were in your shoes, I would be doing the same. It's like one of the legends, right down to the mismatching couple. Though, somehow, you ended up with all the levels."

Elin's fingers tightened on the bowl, and she dunked it again. It was passed the point of cleanliness. Without her nun's habit, Sister Lora acted poisonously. The usual higher pitch of her voice dropped to a smokey tone.

"Is it appropriate for a nun," Elin asked, "to talk like this?"

Sister Lora made a courtesan-esque laugh, "Are you asking if I took the vows? I did. This might shock you, but I break them when it's in the interests of the greater good. When my sin is finished, I seek forgiveness, and I return. Not unlike yourself, now. Well... perhaps."

"You!" Elin stared at Lora a moment.

Lora continued to lean, unjustifiably comfortable in the face of Elin's anger. After Elin continued to stare, Lora raised her eyebrows to emphasize her boredom with the intimidation. Elin turned away and stacked the dishes.

"I don't need to be insulted in my own home," Elin hissed.

"Your home? You've been here less than a week." Sister Lora rolled her eyes. "Speaking of, Priestess Evelyn wished to visit, to bless the domicile, and to formally introduce your assigned deponent."

"One day." Elin pressed her fingers into her temples and muttered. "I just wanted one fucking day."

"An emergency Five Kingdom's Congress is underway, as we speak. When the ice breaks, we could be at war, depending on the outcome. These days will be the only time to speak peacefully with the priestess because she'll be busy at Camp Wolf and with the Temple of the Witness."

Elin leaned forward.

Sister Lora said, "Shall I send forward your invitation?"

Elin shouted. "Fine!"

Walter's distant writing ceased, and Elin squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment of intense listening, Elin heard his restart.

Elin said, "Do you truly intend to earn your keep? If so, then I have a favor you must fulfill."

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Sister Lora didn't like insulting Lady Elin, because it contradicted the respect she held for the ex-paladin. But, Sister Lora decided tough love was in order.

Since Priestess Evelyn ordered her to escort Walter to Letun, her behavior degraded. The well-disciplined and proper knight turned into a violent and out-of-control mercenary. She didn't render a salute when she slaughtered the Pale Troll, and she snubbed the woman that raised her. Worse, she's beguiled with a man unprepared to run the noble house she's attempting to establish. Enemies and manipulators surrounded her, and she's ignoring it to play homemaker.

Politics gagged everyone who wanted to talk her out of it. The manuscripts declare tales of a person's life turned into hell because they ended up on a hero's blacklist.

The exact words the nun wanted to use was, 'Stop being a brat. Get your shit together.' Instead? Elin's request at the end of the conversation took her off-guard, and she lost the momentum. Furthermore, she couldn't refuse, as she did seek their protection. As the heroes would say: good game.

Sister Lora crossed the street and entered the Firewood District, "What the hell is she thinking?"