Symon's night was blissfully dreamless. He'd been worried the recent daytime memory dream was a sign things were getting worse, but it hadn't been the case. Monsters could be scary, but at least you could fight them or run away. The same couldn't be said for sleep. In the end, it will always win.
Symon stretched as he rolled out of bed, but it was just a reflexive action. His muscles didn't seem to get tense or stiff from something as banal as laying in the same spot for eight hours anymore. Still, it felt nice to do.
"Is there anything obvious I'm missing, oh mighty adventurer Keelgrave?" Symon asked as he checked through his equipment. He had his two weapons — the sword and club — as well as some basic supplies including a waterskin and rations. He had his new clothes from the tailor on, simple but clean and undamaged. He also had his straw cowboy hat.
Truthfully, it looked a bit silly in Symon's eyes, but he still liked it. It felt nice to do something simply because he wanted to, and not just because he needed it to survive. The mayor's house didn't have a mirror, so he used the polished flat of his sword to check himself out.
He tucked his long, curly hair behind his ears. It was getting to the point that he considered just lopping it all off — after all, dying because your hair got in your eyes at an inopportune moment would be pretty embarrassing. It wasn't quite at that stage yet, though. Hmm, I wonder what someone with a Hairdressing skill would be able to do... these clothes are pretty nice for being made of straw, and the tailor was only on the first step.
"I know you would never suggest I join as an imperial guard, so that can only mean one thing. There's no way I'm going to try and steal from them."
Symon would love some nice thick armour to protect him from monsters, but it wasn't as easy as going down to the adventurer store and buying one. First off, he didn't have enough money. A full set of plate armour was expensive, and even just a standalone metal breastplate would cost him almost everything he had. More gold could always be acquired, whether by charging for his healing or through adventuring, but Brackstead was simply too small to offer what he wanted. It had miners, farmers, and the people required to support them. That was it. Perhaps the new Baron really would turn the village into the shining jewel of the Wastes given enough time, but he wasn't interested in waiting around long enough to find out.
He stopped himself right before he left his room. I should probably check my Ledger, first.
[ Status:
Name: Symon
Class: Cursed Healer
Strength: 0.93
Constitution: 1.25 {+0.02}
Acuity: 0.97 {+0.01}
Intelligence: 1.00
Will: 1.23 {+0.01}
Vessel (Vitality): 9/18
Abilities:
Idealise (16) {+1}
Seize (13) {+1}
Essence Bond (12) {+1}
Passives:
Anatomy (3)
Bleeding Resistance (3)
Languages (10) {+1}
Pain Resistance (8)
Poison Resistance (3) {+1}
Running (8)
Swords (3) ]
Symon's eyes flicked between his Constitution and his Poison Resistance. "Wow, that's a pretty big gain just for one night of drinking." He hadn't had that much.
"I understand the early levels go by fast, it's just funny to think I'm tougher than I was last night just because of some alcohol," he said. "Anyway, let's get this show on the road. I told Aslan I'd meet them at the inn in an hour from now, but we should probably get breakfast first."
Keelgrave was silent, so Symon listened out to make sure he wasn't about to walk straight into someone. After assuring himself he wasn't about to accidentally kill one of his hosts, he opened his door and walked out into the main room.
Mariyka, Lado's daughter and thus Temuri's granddaughter, was seated in the mixed living room and kitchen. She was reading something, using a small, glowing stone to compensate for the dimness of the early morning light.
Symon had paused in the doorway, but quickly cleared his throat to get her attention. Probably don't want to be the weirdo who stares at women in the dark, Symon. "Hey Mariyka, do you know if Temuri is up? I'd like to give him a check over before I head out."
She pulled a feather from behind her ear, placed it on the page she was up to, and closed the book. "Yes, he should be awake by now. Was there a problem? He seemed much better last night."
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"No, no, nothing like that. I just want to make sure he doesn't need any more healing and also get his advice on something."
"That's good," she said with obvious relief. "He'll be in the study. Oh, and thank you again for helping him."
"Not a problem," he smiled. "It's what anyone would have done."
"Maybe," she said, going back to her book.
Symon approached the door to the study, knocked twice, then slowly opened it. "Hello? Mr. Lavyaz? Are you—"
"I heard you out there already, youngster. Come, come," the now much steadier voice of Temuri Lavyaz called.
Symon swung the door all the way open and stepped into the study. Lado wasn't present, but the old mayor was sitting at his desk. Much better than laying in a cot, Symon thought.
"Good morning, I'm just checking that everything is alright with the healing?" he asked. "Your cough hasn't returned?" Symon was fairly confident that the problem was completely gone, but he wasn't sure what had caused it in the first place. For all he knew, there was some monster snuck into your house at night and blew poison on you when you slept. Oh god, why did I just think that? My room is creepy enough at night.
"Why, I feel twenty years younger!" Temuri exclaimed. By Symon's estimation, that meant he felt like a seventy-year-old man. Not exactly the peak of health, but a marked improvement from when he was literally coughing out pieces of his lungs just a day before.
"That's excellent news," Symon said, his tone light. Slowly, his smile evened out, then turned into a slight frown as he studied Temuri's features with a squint. He did look much better. He felt his Anatomy passive ping as his eyes roamed over the slightly less developed wrinkles, the barely reduced jowls.
"Is... is everything alright, Symon? I really do feel great," Temuri asked, the concern slowly growing in his noticeably less rheumy eyes.
Symon forced a cool expression onto his face. "No, nothing's the matter. Everything's just great. I was merely glad it worked so well, is all. Uh, I just wanted to ask again about Lady Renske's manor — me and a few friends are going to go check it out this morning, but I realised I don't actually know much about the dangers."
"Neither do we, I'm afraid. It's all... blocked off."
"Blocked off? How?"
"I've never seen it myself," Temuri shrugged, "but it's all misty, like fog over the docks in winter. I don't know anything about what the inside looks like, not anymore. No one's ever come back."
"Right, you mentioned that. We'll be careful, we don't want to get ourselves killed for some coins." Of course, money wasn't Symon's primary motivation here. For one, he wanted to solve the mystery of the noblewoman's death. Whatever did it could still be out there, waiting to hurt Symon, his friends, or the innocents in the village. Then, there was some possible link to the new Baron. He'd been assured it was all coincidental, but he wasn't sure he believed that. Those were all secondary concerns, though. Simple curiosity or greed wasn't enough to make Symon risk his life.
It was the dungeon. Symon didn't want to spend years training just to still be outmatched by a first step with a dedicated combat class. This dungeon could be his ticket to growing powerful enough to not need to fear for his life and freedom, so he needed to investigate the supposed link it had to the manor. He'd been lucky enough to not draw the attention of someone powerful, but he knew it would only be a matter of time. It wouldn't be soon, hopefully, but when the true power of his healing as well as his status as a world traveller got out, he wanted to be ready.
"I'd better head off now, I don't want to be late. Thanks for the advice," Symon said with a nod.
"Anytime, young man. You be safe now, alright? It wouldn't do to get a bright young lad like yourself killed."
"Will do, Temuri. You make sure to let me know if you start feeling ill again."
"I was already planning on it!" Temuri smiled at Symon as he left, shutting the door behind him.
"Is everything alright?" Mariyka asked as he walked through the main room.
"Perfectly okay," Symon said. "More than just okay, even. Sorry, I've gotta head out now." Before the conversation could continue, he gave another nod and quickly made his way out of the house.
The area behind the old mayoral residence wasn't fenced off, but none of the nearby buildings had a direct path to it. Most of the houses had only a single door, but he supposed there were some benefits to having been the village's leader for decades. Still, he briefly checked for anyone nearby before slumping down against the wall. His empty room was on the other side of it, so he was confident he wasn't about to accidentally tag someone.
"Did you notice anything strange about the mayor?" he asked Keelgrave.
"Yes, exactly. Don't you think it worked a little too well? He looked younger."
"No, really, Anatomy was telling me he was physically younger. I... think my healing fixes aging."
Keelgrave was silent.
Symon rapped his knuckles against his chest, on the spot above his vessel. "You okay in there?"
"I think my healing cures old age?"
Keelgrave let out a long, drawn-out "Fuck".
[ Idealise (16): Consumes Vitality to return a living target to its peak state. This ability automatically applies to the wielder and cannot be disabled. ]
Symon stared at the slight impressions on the packed dirt yard as they slowly spelled out words. They were in English, but he could feel Keelgrave focusing on their connection, piggybacking off Symon's knowledge.
"It says it right there. Peak state," he said, his mental voice numb.
Symon continued staring for a while. The truth was clear, but it was one thing to suspect it and another to believe it. "I'm... immortal."