7:00 A.M.
February 27
Snowfall 1
Saint Shepherd Church, Limeroom, Veotera
Gary walked into the church without fanfare or loudly announcing himself. Remmy had found someone to hang up new crimson cloths above the pews it seemed. His gray eyes were clearly seeing the world around him, but the heart in his chest was clouded. Gary knew intellectually that all emotions were in the brain; the heart being a lump of nothing but dumb specialized muscles in the chest. It still felt appropriate to describe the weight within him.
Remmy was to Gary’s great surprise waiting for him. He stood before the altar at the far end of the room, vestments immaculate and a clearly-professional neutral smile on his face. It would have rankled him that the situation echoed his first encounter with the man but he knew that this wasn’t someone who had earned any anger towards him. Without preamble Gary walked up to the altar and found numerous letters sitting there ready for his perusal.
“Good morning, Gary.”
“..Good morning, Remmy.” Remmy heard the hesitation in the words and as Gary slid the pack off his shoulders he gave in and reached towards the old man’s outstretched hands. The gesture was simple, but he understood the meaning behind it and bowed his head to the priest in silent gratitude. They held there until Gary finally released the man’s grasp and set his hands onto the altar. “These are the responses?”
“Yes. The last of them arrived two days after you left. Each of them find your interpretation intriguing and have supplied excerpts from various texts they had on hand that would prove useful to your cause of warning.” Gary picked each letter up and read them fully in turn. Most were several pages long and indeed contained quotes from what seemed to be historical and religious texts that gave a better scope to the problems a newly-integrated world would face. Each page was meticulously pictured and he’d go over them later to provide translations. That would also help make a lexicon if the wild dream of cross-contact became a thing.
“..This is far more than I was expecting, to be honest. Thank you, Remmy. I doubt I could have gotten anywhere near this much in anywhere near as short a timeframe.” Remmy puffed up with pride and his professional smile became one that was genuine now.
“I’m glad to be of assistance. Anything that can save lives is a worthwhile use of my time.” He looked at the young man who finally set the papers down and seemed to steel himself. “Now, I believe we also have a discussion to have about the System.”
Gary nodded once. He needed to know as much as he could, as the damnable thing had already proven lethal once.
“As you are aware, the System grants us humans access to powers and abilities that correspond to a Class we are assigned based on our nature. Skills are drawn from the Class you have, and from actions you perform through your life. There is in theory near-limitless power to be had.”
“But a price must be paid for all power?”
Remmy nodded at the question. “Just so. It awakens at the age of six, and at the age of eighteen a countdown triggers. If one is not married to a spouse of the opposite gender, this countdown lasts for one year from the eighteenth birthday to the nineteenth birthday. If you turn nineteen without being married and the female spouse being pregnant with a baby, you will have the System withdraw its power from your body. The shock is invariably fatal.”
Gary’s face said everything without a word uttered. Disgust, worry, resignation. Remmy saw the emotions warring in his thoughts and raised a hand in an attempt to comfort. It did little, but Gary continued to listen.
“As people dying in droves would cause issues for everyone, the nations here on the continent have taken to making arranged marriages a common social measure. The ages the discussions occur at are a matter of debate for each country, but here in Ridiana the typical age is thirteen. One is legally an adult at fifteen and at that point marriages are valid in the eyes of the System. Those who for some reason cannot find arranged marriages on their own meet at the capital of the kingdom; Crown Hill. This meeting occurs on Sunheight 18.”
Gary did some quick math in his head, converting between calendars before snorting in amusement. There must be some sort of cosmic joke in the whole thing. “Ironically, my birthday.” June 12th was Sunheight 18. Remmy pursed his mouth at that news.
“How old will you be?”
“..Eighteen.”
The man shook his head at the irony. He stood there in silence as he tried to think of anything else he could add to the conversation. “Let’s see. Marriage and pregnancy before nineteen to avoid problems with the System. So you’ve got three months and eighteen days to find someone or else you can use the marriage lottery on Sunheight 18. I advise strongly against waiting any later than that.”
Gary decided to broach a question that had bothered him while talking with Deliliah. “What happens when you divorce? Does the parent with custody of the child stay safe, does the System count it as both parents having done what it wants and so lets them live?” Remmy shook his head deeply at the questions.
“No no. Divorce is an extreme measure. It is usually only granted if one spouse can prove the other is guilty of a serious crime like treason. Normally a marriage is for life; only death separates the couple.” Gary nodded at that. It soothed him somewhat that things were that solid culturally. “Consorts are under the same protection.”
“I’m sorry; what? Consorts? As in live-in mistresses?”
Remmy smiled at the comparison. “Not at all, my boy. A consort in this sense is more like how acting troupes have understudies for their more important parts. They are legally just below the wife in authority - and consorts are only women - and if she dies the consort with seniority is immediately promoted to legal wife. All children produced by either wife or consorts are legally considered to be born by the wife, even if the wife changes.”
“That sounds.. Thought out.” Gary was wrapping his head around the arrangement and Remmy sensed his confusion, chuckling at it.
“Helps keep succession issues at bay. You won’t see consorts that often, either. Only people who possess a Writ of Bloodline can have a consort. You need one for each consort, as well. They’re only handed out to people the Crown consider so important to Ridiana’s future that their bloodline cannot afford to be easily extinguished. You’ll be happy to know being a consort also counts as marriage in the eyes of the System.”
Gary nodded at the news. That made sense, and it made him a little happy that consorts had protection in place from the ravages of the System. The knowledge was a bit of cooling balm on his aching feelings. He leaned forward and onto the altar, cradling his head in his hands as his elbows braced against the cloth-covered stone. Thinking about it was bringing him back to it.
“I.. Remmy, it hurts so badly. I know I shouldn’t be sad, that I shouldn’t be angry. I just can’t help feeling like I missed something; like I was blind somehow and missed an opportunity to save her. Am I just being stupid?”
“It’s not being stupid, Gary. It’s being human. There was nothing you could have done in a thousand tries with a thousand years to plan each time. It was her lot, and she went out how she wanted, right?” Gary nodded without a word. He obviously knew it intellectually but it was raw. He shook his head in his hands vigorously trying to dislodge the darker thoughts in his head from sinking their talons further than they already had. When he managed to recover enough to look up, he saw Remmy back into the professional smile; a tinge of sadness to the expression now. “It is the duty of the living to carry on. We all inevitably leave people hurting like you are now but the pain is proof we’re alive. Stay true to what she saw in you; it’s the best way to honor her.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I still feel like shit.” Remmy finally broke character and rounded the altar to embrace Gary lightly across the shoulders. A shudder went through his frame as tears leaked and he fought down a sob. The man was right. Pain was part of life. It didn’t make it right.
----------------------------------------
Jack, Dina, and the employees of The Unusual Huntress took one look at him and understood. Nods were exchanged without words. He moved to the desk one last time and looked to the people manning the Delvers’ dispatch point. He bowed deeply to them.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You’ve helped me gain the strength to move forward, and I will be forever grateful to you all. It’s time for me to move on, however. I may come back, I may not.”
“You’re welcome any time, Gary,” Jack replied as the teenager stood up straight from his respectful gesture. It was clear the man didn’t receive such praise often, and despite the tone the conversation took he received it well. “Try not to be a stranger, yeah?” He held out a hand to clasp, and Gary stepped forward to grasp it strongly.
“No promises, but I’ll try.”
----------------------------------------
It was about noon when Gary finished his final tasks in the city of Limeroom. He’d purchased new rations and another small pack to carry his money wrapped in his clothes that were minus the cassock as it didn’t feel right going around with priest clothes without being supervised by a priest. He kept the crimson cloak, however.
As he walked out of the gate he’d entered those two months ago he elected not to look back. He’d found a simple map in a shop on his last round of the city and looked down at it. The image was in his Virtual Network for reference but it felt good to have something physical in his hands. He walked along the road he’d traveled down to get to the place until he got over that one rise in terrain that blocked the view of the city in the distance.
He glanced at his internal compass rose, consulted the vellum drawing, and after storing the map turned off the road and raced into the woods towards the west-northwest. Through the trees and over terrain he went; reveling in the wind in his face and running very quickly from the problems in his wake. He triggered 「Leap」 once he hit a good patch of trees and sprang from sturdy branch to sturdy branch like some sort of giant ninja squirrel. His speed was frightening now that he was running full tilt, and he knew he could easily crush Olympic sprinters at this pace.
For the rest of the day he ran. Gary had elected to go cross-country for a few reasons, and he reviewed them as he set up a small camp with his brazier burning some detritus from the woods around him and green wood. He’d thankfully set it up so the smoke from the fire would drift away from him, and in the darkness that fell quickly to surround his little slice of the world Gary thought.
The first reason he’d gone cross-country was that he needed time to sort out his own headspace. Gary knew he was grieving hard. He’d been right to call himself a coward in those final moments; her scream from having her essence torn from her enough that he knew it was going to give him night terrors for years. Without distractions made by other people he hoped he could just read through texts in his archive and try to find something that would help him get his head back in the game. Gary knew that time was going to be the only real salve for the ache, but a few band-aids here and there couldn’t hurt.
The second reason was economy of speed. He knew enough about how cities were placed in Ridiana now that he could use his superior power to simply cut out stopping at every village and hamlet along the way in his pursuit of the rifts. He had more than enough money to base himself in a major settlement and work for the local Delvers to maintain his funds while he hunted the monsters and closed dungeons. He knew now he was on at least two separate timers. One he knew started in a little under four months and gave him a year, and the other had no known timeframe but the marrow in his bones felt like it was curdling at the thought it was somehow shorter. Efficient use of his strongest Skill and managing that timer as well was going to be of crucial importance.
The third reason was that he wanted to really sort out his growing report files. He looked at them appearing in his mind’s eye and frowned at the jumbled notes and attached images. This was no way to make a concise, actionable report. Earth would waste valuable time and mental energy sorting out this twenty-car pileup of a running document and that could cost lives. Even as he enjoyed the heat of the fire and ate some rations he warmed up next to said flame, he split the information apart into several separate files with more appropriate labels.
Information about the System was collated into a document by itself. The pictures he’d added were annotated to account for the fact that people might not be able to see them unless he turned on his screen’s ‘viewable to others’ option. He corrected that immediately as he made an image doing so, then in a flash of inspiration worked out how to make a simple ASCII-style mock-up diagram in case it still didn’t work. Under another heading in the same document he placed the description of how the integration process had gone for him, beginning it with a bolded disclaimer that others’ experience may not match up. Another heading described what he knew of the methods by which one could gain new Skills, with another disclaimer that his Plunderer method wasn’t to be relied upon by others.
At the bottom of that document he put everything he had learned and postulated about the System itself. He included initial theories, confirmed aspects, later theories, and the more painful recent discoveries. At the end he gave a summary that even he had to admit was tinged with visible hatred. It read “Do not trust the System. Despite a seeming lack of sapience, it is a force one cannot manipulate under the currently known rules. Those who have better knowledge have warned the writer of this report that the rules are ironclad and some carry a lethal penalty for being defied. Do not trust the System. It is not your friend, it is not your ally. It is a flame that will happily burn you if given the chance, and sorrows travel in its shadow.”
Gary frowned at his own words as he let the fire die down a bit and prepared his bedroll for the night inside his tent. He caught himself when he thought he smelled something womanly. A long pause in his activities happened as he worked to contain his emotions and barely won over the urge to break down sobbing. Everyone was right; wallowing in grief over something done and over was a plan for untold disaster.
He warmed his hands back at his small brazier as he shifted his attention to more parts of his notes. The second file was to contain cultural notes about Ridiana and Veotera as a whole. He immediately put a bolded disclaimer at the top of this one stating it was an evolving and ongoing work-in-progress, and notes would be made in future versions about additions and corrections. Here was placed everything he knew about the culture of the world, maps, political and religious subjects, technological and cultural anachronisms, and currency. As Gary thought harder on the subject of culture, he made a stronger note in the midst of it that he heard the accents of the people from Veotera as faintly British and Eastern European depending on their region of origin. The note accounted for the fact that his Passive Skill 「Language: Common Veoteran」 might be auto-translating the accents and even the whole language into English in his head for his Earth mind because it was his strongest language. There had been a couple of incidents where he’d spoken a word and without thinking used English, having to go back and deliberately ensure he was using Common Veoteran so the locals understood him.
Gary chose to put the work of translating between the languages into its own file. The alphabet was pretty straightforward; mostly a one-to-one cipher between English and the local tongue. He put another disclaimer here stating his Skills might be interfering again before continuing. He’d noticed a neat little quirk for the written form of this world’s language: some words that were used with extreme common-ness actually had their own dedicated symbol. Words like ‘the’, ‘and’, ‘of’; it made reading texts surprisingly information-dense and space-efficient when the most commonly used words and tiny literary phrases had a quick shorthand that was culturally ingrained to great extents.
He provided several document images from other parts of his notes as examples of writing, offering the texts side-by-side with an unmarred version of the image and one littered with annotations. Gary made sure to clip tiny parts of the images and line them up in a collage in a clean image file to present a faster cipher for analysis. Cut, copy, and paste was sadly the best he could do as he scavenged parts of English characters from files he already had to add to the collage. He switched gears for a second and wrote about adding a simple but more robust image drawing program to the Virtual Network; Gary ruefully admitted to himself he’d be fine with a bootleg version of MS Paint or the like.
The third major file he worked on was describing the magic system present in Veotera via the System’s influence. The six main types of Pearl, Emerald, Ruby, Sapphire, Alexandrite, and Onyx were listed and Gary admitted most of this file was going to be speculation until he could get more concrete data. He described what he knew of relqa, how they worked, and that the locals described them unanimously as prohibitively expensive to create. Then he got to the part he was dreading about this section: curse weapons.
Gary noted that the evil things were distinctly apart from the known System-based magic operational standards, and that there was a universal revulsion towards the things. He described the process that had been undertaken to destroy the one he’d encountered and how resources were openly dedicated to the cause of dealing with them. The locals knew enough about their existence to know how big a threat they were. He hesitated to describe how they were made but ultimately felt it was vital information to know.
His notes now more organized, Gary felt a little better. He made sure the brazier’s charge of wood wasn’t going to set things on fire while he slept and settled into his tent for the night. Gary would sleep for however long he slept and deal with it when he woke up. The last thing he did with the files was set up cross-references and linking notes between them before bundling it all into a single larger file and closing the program down for the night.
As he settled into his bedroom and tried to drift off to sleep, he took a deep breath and understood his mistake immediately. Delilah’s scent was soaked into the fabric. His eyes flashed open in the dark for a few minutes before he sighed heavily and decided to let sleep finally take him. There was nothing he could do now about it, and maybe it would help with the withdrawals.
----------------------------------------
That night the wild darkness was filled with a scream of sorrow and rage from a sleeping throat. It was perhaps the worst night of sleep Gary Zavon ever had.