Laszlo and Stenn, Guardians of Brandis Bridge, Slain

Tasks Completed: 3/5

Level Up

Level 43 —> Level 44

Level 44 —> Level 45

Level 45 —> Level 46

Quality Points awaiting allocation: 3

Of the six marksman behind Laszlo and Stenn, two remained. One dropped his firearm and readied his sword and shield to engage Radovid, the other turned and ran for his life, screaming for help.

Irina dispatched the latter with a beautifully aimed Aelia’s Emerald Lance. Radovid split the former down the middle, from head to crotch, with a single stroke of his sword.

Redmane would allocate his points in a moment.

There was a feast in front of him to attend to.

The corpses of six veteran guards, four marksmen and then not only Stenn the giant himself, but his massive cannon, axe, armor suit and the whole drum of cannonballs he’d been toting on his back.

Stenn’s weaponry lacked any special qualities, but the sum total of all that metal was worth the time it took to chomp down.

Corpus: 5668

Armor +13

Grace 19 —> 22

He’d start in on Fortitude next time.

Radovid watched Redmane eat with something like morbid curiosity on his face. He was clearly troubled, but unable to wrest his eyes from the gruesome spectacle. Irina decided she’d rather go to the edge of the bridge and gaze at the water.

When it was done, Redmane stood and stretched his spine out, flexing his claws and his jaws, his face skyward, pointing up at the moons, a feral groan coming up from his guts as he enjoyed the feeling of strength and flexibility in his limbs.

He was flush. Full of vitality, yet ready for more.

It felt as though his hunger was building. It had a sense of inertia to it. He felt sated, yes, but eager for the next meal already.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Radovid. “Why did Valtr and Vengarl join you?”

Redmane shrugged. “I helped them save the kidnapped townsfolk in Midva Forest. Don’t think there’s more to it than that.”

“Aye, but they joined your Faction. Cooperating temporarily is one thing, declaring allegiance is another matter.”

“I told them I intend to claim these lands. All of them. They decided to join the winning side.”

Radovid’s eyes narrowed. The corner of his mouth turned down in a slight frown.

Redmane was no mind reader, but it was plain the Warrior was working through disquieting thoughts.

“Speak,” said Redmane.

Radovid smirked. “Forgive me ser, it’s that… Well… There’s no delicate way to say it. Something like you should not exist. Putting aside the matter of your ill manners, Imbued are meant to exterminate Monsters, not mimic their very Skills and… Appetites.”

Redmane recalled Vengarl warning him about this sort of reaction from the Imbued.

Perhaps these two had used him to help them clear the bridge so they could proceed into the south end of the town, and now they intended to turn on him.

No matter. If they chose to be his enemies now, they would meet the same fate as all the rest.

Redmane stared at Radovid silently, awaiting further explanation. Evidently the weight of his gaze was unsettling, like that of a wild animal peering at a human interloper through the trees, because the Imbued cleared his throat and smiled in a guilty sort of way.

“But alas, you exist and you are Imbued. And I have never known the System to err in its selection of the worthy.”

“Yet you have doubts.”

“Neither my brother nor myself know of any Imbued quite like you,” said Irina, who had returned to the two of them after Redmane finished his grisly meal. “But the System’s reasons and its purposes are beyond our reckoning. To question it would be the same as questioning the tides, the currents of winds and waters and Gnosis, the rising of the sun and moons.”

Radovid gave his sister a side-eye and a raised eyebrow. She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Is my reasoning faulty?” she asked.

“Well, no, it’s that—“

She shook her head. “We cannot know what the System intends for him. All we know is that it has chosen him.”

Redmane gave them a deadpan look.

“Have you worked out whether you trust me yet, or not,” he said.

Radovid glanced at his sister. She gave him a small nod.

“Aye. Apologies,” said Radovid, as he held out his hand to Redmane.

Redmane clasped it. “No need for that. I want to get on with conquering this place. You don’t stand in my way, that’s all I need to know.”

Irina smiled at the sight of the two of them clasping hands. She turned her attention toward the south end of Barograd. Its streets were more orderly than the north side, straight lines intersecting to make square city blocks. Such structure was possible on this side of the river and not the other simply because the land was flat.

Besides its high walls, the two most prominent features of the south side were the keep, which sat against the wall, and a large church on the opposite end of the town. It wasn’t the only church, merely the largest in a cluster of churches which seemed to huddle around the big one as if they were members of its congregation.

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“Two foes await,” she said, leveling a pointed finger at the keep. “One there…”

Then she pointed at the large church. “And one there.”

“You have a comrade over there somewhere,” said Redmane, and he pointed in the direction of the churches.

“Shall we see to that one first, then?” Irina asked.

Redmane nodded and made to walk past her and Radovid, toward the part of town with the churches.

But then he stopped abruptly, frozen, realization striking him like lightning.

He wheeled around to face Irina, who looked taken aback by his sudden intensity.

“Do you have a Skill that restores Gnosis? Or a Skill I could eat?”

She blinked. “Ah… Yes, I have ways of recovering Gnosis. Did you need some?”

- - - -

Magister Helmold, along with the rest of the residents of Häerz Castle, barely had time to get used to the presence of one Flora before two more were born.

He happened to be walking by them when they bloomed on the morning of the next day. And if the first sight of Flora took him by surprise, the sight of two more of them, who were exactly identical in form and features, made him stop and stare in open shock.

“Oh, good morn,” said one, as she yawned and stretched on her flower.

“We meet again,” said the other, with a matching smile.

Helmold blinked his eyes a few times, to make sure he wasn’t seeing double. “Did you say ‘we meet again?’”

The Flora on the left nodded. “Correct.”

The Flora on the right said, “Dost thou not remember yesternight?”

The Magister couldn’t find words. He simply stared.

The Floras laughed softly, in perfect unison.

“I thank thee once more for guiding me through the castle,” said the Flora on the left.

“And for introducing me to mistress Letha,” said the Flora on the right. “At present, she doth instruct me in the art of local recipes.”

“I am most fond of the culinary craft,” said the Flora on the left.

Helmold’s eyes darted between the two Floras as they spoke back and forth at him in turns. It took him a few moments to comprehend what he was experiencing. He was absolutely sure he’d seen Flora and Letha together just a moment ago. At first Letha was as shocked at Flora’s appearance and manner as Helmold had been, but after relaxing a bit she seemed pleased to have made the green haired girl’s acquaintance.

Perhaps it was because Flora was nicer to look at. Letha was a fine girl, to be sure, but the green haired goddess, or nymph, or whatever she was, was simply on another level of loveliness. She diverted Helmold’s attention away from her.

Not the first time Helmold noticed a woman express relief to be free from his attention.

Ungrateful wenches.

He cleared his throat politely, shaking away that train of thought. “Ah… Pardon me if I seem obtuse, but you two speak as if you were the same person I met last night,” he said.

The Flora on the left nodded and smiled. “You have the right of it.”

The Flora on the right said, “No matter how many bodies I dost possess, I am ever of one mind.”

“So the Flora in the kitchen knows you two are up here? Talking to me?”

“That one is the selfsame as these who stand before thee,” said the Flora on the left.

“All of one mind, regardless of the count of bodies and the space betwixt them,” said the Flora on the right.

Helmold laughed, shook his head in disbelief. “Are you some kind of god?”

The Flora on the left took on a pensive expression, touched her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps!” said the Flora on the right.

“But if I be, I remember not what I was the god of,” said the Flora on the left. “I cannot even recall mine own name. I thank thee once more, by the by, for bestowing one upon me.”

“No trouble at all,” said Helmold. “The name suits you, truly.”

The two Floras looked momentarily distracted by something. Perhaps Letha was speaking to the other one of them, down in the kitchen. They opened their mouths as one, as if to say something at the same time, and then stopped. Pausing in thought, or so it seemed, or waiting to hear something only they could hear before speaking.

“Breakfast will not be ready for a goodly time yet,” said the Flora on the left.

“Wouldst thou care for a morsel to sustain thee until it is done?” asked the Flora on the right.

Helmold glanced at the doors to the keep.

It’s where he was going before running into these two. He was hoping he could get into the Lord’s apartments and snoop around this morning.

“Certainly, why not,” he said, with a distracted smile and a nod.

“Which fruit is thy favorite?” asked a Flora.

“Apples,” said Helmold. “Crisp and tart. The sharper the better.”

Both Floras said, “At once!” at the same time.

And then the one on the left looked around for an empty spot near them. She appeared to select a suitable spot, ambled over to it and knelt down, holding her flat palm a few inches above the grass. There was a green glow as a point of bright light coalesced in the space between her hand and the soil, before moving down into it, burying itself.

That patch of grass continued to glow as Flora stood and took a step back.

Then Helmold’s eyes went wide.

Because a tree trunk abruptly poked its way out of the ground, sprouting branches on its way up, and as quickly as that trunk grew did the branches sprout leaves and bear fruit. Within mere moments, a fully grown apple tree with lustrous leaves and limbs heavy with perfectly ripe apples had sprung up out of the earth.

Flora plucked a particularly fine apple off of a low hanging branch, walked over to Helmold and placed it in his hand with a warm smile.

“Delight in its flavor,” she said.

“And do return for more,” said the other one. “But save room in thy stomach for breakfast first!”

The Magister smiled sheepishly and nodded. “My thanks.”

That had to have been a Skill, he thought.

Had she gained a level?

He checked their System tags.

—

Flora

Monster Type: ????

Level 3

—

The tags for both of them were the same.

So there were three Floras, and each was level three. He’d have to return to the larder to confirm that, but he had a feeling he knew what he’d find. Did this mean that the more Floras there were, the higher level she would be? A level per body? He hadn’t seen her slaying any Monsters last night. There weren’t any to slay, besides. Even if she had somehow found some, Monster hunting was specifically how the Imbued acquired experience.

Monsters could also gain levels, but the mechanism for that differed from Monster to Monster. Perhaps this one didn’t need to kill other beings, she would simply replicate herself.

Helmold glanced between the two of them, noticed there were not two more, but four more green buds sticking out from the growing cluster of bushes behind the flowers from which they had emerged.

“Forgive me for asking, but are those…” he pointed at the four new buds.

The Floras looked behind them, at where Helmold was pointing.

“Ah, yes. There shall be more of me anon,” said the one on the left.

“Four more. The soil must be wholesome in this place!” said the one on the right.

“Well I’ll be damned,” said Helmold.

Much as he would have enjoyed their company for the remainder of the morning, he had to get into Lord Morholt’s chambers before people were up and in motion.

“Ah, well, pleased to make your acquaintance yet again. I leave you in the favor of the gods,” said Helmold, before excusing himself to continue into the castle keep, up the stairs into the apartments of knights and the Lord himself.

He’d been searching this place in every moment there weren’t eyes on him.

He’d rather not have to explain what he was looking for. Especially not to those two Hunters. They would snitch to Redmane in a heartbeat.

Redmane. The mere thought of his feral gaze made Helmold’s skin crawl.

That the System would deign to accept such a beast. It had to be a mistake. Even if the mere thought was blasphemy.

He was close to finding something now, or so he thought. There weren’t many more places in the Lord’s living quarters to search. This morning would be the last of it, unless he found a secret room or somesuch.

Nearly an hour into the search, sitting at the Lord’s desk reviewing a pile of documents, one by one, Magister Helmold finally encountered something that gave him pause.

A locked scroll case.

Earlier he’d found a key hidden beneath the Lord’s bed. He tried it. It slipped into the lock, turned, and clicked open.

His heart skipped a beat.

Then it began to beat faster, as he opened the case and slid out the scroll, unfurled it on the desk and brought the candelabrum closer to better read it.

To Aric Morholt, First of his Name,

What followeth are instructions for the safekeeping of thy prisoner.

The Ritual of Sealing shall endure for ever if its subject be properly kept.

Yet the rite hath frailties, which could be exposed by negligent keepers and exploited by resolute foes.

I trust thou knowest what could transpire if the vigilance of thy House should wane…

As Helmold read the letter, his eyes grew wide and the color drained out of his face.