11:53 A.M.
January 12
Wintermonth 11
Saint Shepherd Church, Limeroom, Veotera
Gary stayed vigilant for the next two days but no one else suspicious came during that time. He’d helped Remmy with a full religious service, silently switching out various tools and icons as the sermon progressed. People had spoken to the old priest in hushed tones afterwards and Gary felt their flicking gazes on his body. He paid it no mind. He was a newcomer; a visible oddity to the regulars amongst the man’s flock. None of the looks were concerned further than the fact he was new.
As the last of the parishioners shuffled out the door to brave the cold on their way home, Remmy had disappeared into a side room that Gary knew led to sleeping quarters only to reappear with a pair of thick wool hooded cloaks in the same crimson of the church’s fabric adornments. The old man held one out to Gary and with a curious look at the older man he accepted it and threw it on without protest. Remmy’s ability to get clothing for Gary in his size without Gary giving him measurements had him wondering if the man had secrets of his own tucked away in his status screen.
“We’re going out,” Remmy simply announced. He gestured towards a large pair of baskets that had been set to either side of the main door before the service. Gary had watched the baskets be filled with various foodstuffs and simple but warm-looking blankets. “Be a good lad and carry the baskets for me?”
“Ah. Alms givings.” The priest nodded as they moved to the door and Gary scooped up the baskets. They were pretty large things, and he found they had straps to be carried over the shoulder like backpacks. A moment’s investigation revealed the cloaks had slots at the shoulders to accommodate the straps without sacrificing the protective folds of the fabric to the wearer. Gary thought that was a clever little addition. The baskets were indeed heavy laden as they were with goods from the more fortunate to the less so, but they were easy enough for Gary to lug around. He did have an uncle in the military and part of his routine was to ensure he was in at least military-level fitness.
The duo flipped up their hoods and braved the clear but cold day. Remmy led the charge as he turned towards where Gary had learned the slums of Limeroom were. It hadn’t surprised him to find out these existed: the poor of any given civilization tended to either congregate by themselves or were forced to do so by those in power. This particular slum seemed to be a combination of the two leaning towards the former. Gary clocked the increasing guard patrols as they came to the borders of the area.
A small gathering of guards drew the duo’s attention as they crossed the threshold of the slums and Remmy drifted in that direction as he shuffled around with something Gary couldn’t see under his cloak. As they got to the gathering a familiar face revealed itself among the group. The bushy-browed captain from the gate looked up at that moment and spotted Gary. He frowned in confusion for a moment before Gary’s eyes flicked towards the priest in front of him meaningfully. The expression lightened upon sighting the priest.
“Ah, Father; good timing! Might I ask for your assistance for a moment?”
“Of course, my son. What seems to be the problem?” At that moment a groan resounded from a wall past the cluster of bodies. All three men looked that way and upon seeing the priest the guards opened a pathway. Leaned up against the nearby wall and sat on his rear end was a guard clenching shut a nasty-looking gash on his outer thigh. The leather armor piece that was supposed to be there had apparently been sheared apart from the force of the blow and had been subsequently removed by someone to get better access to the wound for treatment.
The wound looked pretty hefty. Gary immediately thought about what nasty illness could occur from a wound like that and frowned. His gray eyes locked on the back of Remmy’s head as the old man stepped forward while looking over his shoulder. “Now is as good a time as any to show you how Pearl magic works. Pay attention.” With that Remmy produced a cross from under his cloak and brandished it at the offending leg as he leaned forward to get close.
Gary felt the tingle of something on his skin as he watched the decently-sized pearl set at the meeting point of the cross’ arms silently hum into glowing life. The light gathered for a few moments before falling over the man to illuminate his whole body with the soft yellow-white glow. The wound on the leg began to slow it’s bloodloss to a trickle before drying up fully, then the flesh began to slowly weave itself back into a single whole. Once it was fully sealed, Remmy let the light fade and stood back up to his full height. Gary thought he heard a subtle pop from the old man’s spine.
Gary nodded as Remmy looked back at him for approval, earning a cheeky smirk from the old priest. A question popped into Gary’s head as he gazed at the now-healed leg and wiggled his lips back and forth as he visibly thought about something before he voiced the question. “That’s really useful, Father. A question, though. Wouldn’t focusing the magic on the wound heal it faster and more mana-efficiently?” Remmy’s smirk froze on his face as he stopped and visibly started doing the mental calculations for Gary’s question before his face dropped a little and he sighed heavily.
“You’re right, Gary. It would let me do it faster. The problem is more of a social one.” He put away the cross under his cloak and stood there with his hands on his hips. “People have come to expect certain things from magic. Ruby magic is for burning things, Sapphire magic is good if the local well runs dry, and Pearl magic is showy. People would think I’m cheaping out on them if I just focus the magic in one spot and don’t give them the full show.”
“It’d let you help more people if you dialed it back is all I’m saying.”
“True. Hopefully we won’t need to test that today.”
“I’d be careful today, Father,” the guard captain chimed in at that point of the conversation. Gary and Remmy both looked at him and he elaborated. “There’s been a string of attacks in and around the slums the last couple of days. Johnny almost had the bastard before he took that hit.” Gary looked back towards the guard who was resting and trying to recover from the blood loss as a pair of his fellow guards moved to either side of him in preparation of helping him to his feet.
“Have you checked for poison?” Gary’s matter-of-fact statement cut through the air and drew everyone’s attention. Gary glanced about and nodded towards the seated man. “If there’s someone going around attacking people, there’s no guarantee they’re not using something on the weapon to give an extra kick to the damage. Does Pearl magic cover poison effects?”
Remmy looked back at the guard before stepping back over. “A lot of them,” he replied as he bent back down and looked the guard in the face, studying the man’s eyes and breathing for a time before straightening back up again. “The ones that Pearl doesn’t work on are the really nasty stuff. You’ll find potent monster venoms and the like in that category. For those, you want Sapphire magic. A good catch, but this young man should be fine.” The group’s tension lifted at the proclamation as Remmy moved back towards Gary again. The captain nodded his thanks to Remmy before looking at Gary and studying his attire.
“Studying for the priesthood?”
“Not yet. Father Remmy decided to give me room and board for helping around the church. He insists I at least dress the part while under the roof of a house of God.” Gary lifted his cloak front open to reveal a clear lack of iconography that the old man bore as a matter of station. The captain nodded at the explanation before looking further into the slums. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure he’s fine.” The captain shuddered at the simple declaration, clearly remembering what he’d seen when Gary entered Limeroom.
“It was good to help, but we have to see about our almsgiving. God be with you all,” Remmy intoned.
“God be with you, Father,” the guards echoed as one before the two cloak-wearing people started off into the slums on their mission of mercy.
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The next few hours were spent by the two giving out blankets, food, healing, and spiritual guidance by Remmy. Gary remained mostly silent during the process, serving as part packmule part assistant the whole time. Inwardly, there was a lot of sighing. Seeing the conditions of this place made his heart ache and his blood boil. Every time they stopped with a view of the inner districts over the internal walls Gary sent at least one venomous glare towards the homes of the city’s elites. This place was a crucible for problems in the city, and it could be alleviated in numerous ways. It was disdainful laziness on the part of those in power that let this flourish.
Thoughts of the System helping enforce this due to people getting pushed down due to bad luck in their Class draw or the like had Gary’s blood at a fever pitch. Was this what awaited Earth once the System made its way there?
Gary’s bad mood was clear to Remmy as the man stopped in front of a alley and turned to confront his helper. “You’ve been in a fouler and fouler mood as we’ve gone on. Do you hate this?”
“No, Father. I’m fuming at the noteworthy lack of humanitarianism from those in power around here.” Gary jerked his head towards the noble district currently hidden behind a building. “So many of these people want to make something of themselves, but they’re oppressed for no reason other than a bad bit of luck with the System. Just a bit of noblesse oblige would go miles around here. Current conditions are just begging for some poor soul to catch a plague and suddenly half the city’s in a mass grave.”
Remmy listened before giving Gary a defeated nod. “That is a painfully true statement, Gary. Things are bad here in the slums. I would warn you to never let any of the nobles of this city hear that declaration, however. They don’t like anyone badmouthing them in a way that could reach the Crown.” Gary looked unimpressed so Remmy continued. “I’ve seen that look in other people. It didn’t end well. The only way you currently have to enact what you’re talking about is to use your Class in the way you don’t want to.”
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It was Gary’s turn to frown. It was an option, he had to admit. It was a so-called ‘nuclear option’. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to pull that trigger. Seeing Gary’s posture slump a little as he gave in to the argument, Remmy nodded solemnly and turned back around to proceed on their way. The old man stopped in his tracks as he saw a trio of very shady-looking individuals barring their path.
One was crudely bald-shaven, one was what Gary would call ‘wiry’, and the third was laser-focused on Gary. Gary sighed as he felt his body move with a speed he wasn’t mentally used to, sliding to be in front of Remmy in a clearly defensive posture towards the old man. The largely-empty baskets made wicker-y sounds as they finally hit the poorly cobbled road behind them. All three men blinked at the display but recovered the next blink at the unintentional display of ability.
“Neat trick, boy. But you know how this goes! Hand over your valuables,” said the bald man. Gary felt his left eye twitch. The Random Bandit Encounter Trope box was ticked. Remmy spoke up from behind Gary.
“You boys stupid? I’m a priest!”
“Which means you’ve got a relqa on you! Hand it over!” Gary muttered under his breath so that Remmy could hear him.
“This is about to start. Stay safe.” Gary felt a pat on his shoulder from the man and Gary slid into a basic Taekwondo fighting stance, left foot forward and fists loosely clenched. If the trio backed off he was prepared to let them leave, but he knew this wasn’t going to end like that. He was bare-handed, and he saw at least two knives and a club among the trio. Said weapons came up in the hands of the thugs; surprisingly the wiry man had the club and the bald man one of the knives. The third man simply stood there silently and still laser-focused on Gary this whole time. Gary knew that one was going to be the trouble in this fight.
“Last chance.” The bald man was supposedly the leader of the trio and had done all the talking. Gary shot him a glare sharp enough to make the bald man flinch. In the back of his mind he felt what he could only call his Plunderer Class stir at the adrenaline leaking into Gary’s bloodstream. As it stirred the trio looked to be reconsidering their options but shook it off and the wiry man charged first.
As the club was raised and a yell came from the man Gary stepped into the charge and swung his right fist up under the man’s rib cage, aimed for a painful blow to the diaphragm to knock the man out of the fight quickly. A loud exhalation met his attack as the man lifted up off the ground about five inches and went tumbling back to the feet of his companions. The club had been jarred loose and without thinking Gary caught it by it’s crude handle, reared back his arm, and tossed it so it would hit the fallen wiry man’s belly button sideways so as not to serve as an attempt at a piercing missile.
The action was met by the bald man charging in next, leading in with his knife to ward off any attempt to repeat the attack that had downed his friend. Gary responded by correcting his stance with a step before spinning on the newly-planted right foot and going low in a kick to the side of the man’s current weight-bearing knee. He predictably stumbled off balance as he cried out and face-planted to one side of Gary who finished the spin and came up with a bit of a flourish of his crimson cloak to face the last man. Gary made sure to pay attention to the sounds of the bald man on the ground as he squared up to the third.
Something about this one was making the Plunderer part of his body shiver in anticipation as the man finally and slowly drew his knife. This blade was pristine: a polished steel sliver of metal that Gary mentally labeled as something between a bayonet and a Bowie knife, favoring the Bowie in design but the bayonet in size. He instantly knew this man was a professional. A curt nod towards Gary then the man moved.
Gary threw himself to the side as he felt the blade slice the fabric of his cloak at the right shoulder. A quick tumble and Gary popped back up with the unfastened cloak clutched in his left hand like a matador’s cape. This one wasn’t going to be an easy mark and the cloak’s nature would get Gary killed. The man remained silent as he moved again and Gary swatted the wrist with the knife as the attack continued into a series of quick slices and counters between Gary slapping the wrist and trying to entangle the arm with the removed cloak. Light grazing cuts appeared on his forearms and outer shoulders as the struggle continued.
Mentally, this was throwing Gary for a loop. He knew he was quick but this was a bit much! He felt his Class’ spot in his mind pulse and waver with glee at the knife fighting dance, and felt it encouraged the use of a Skill to break the stalemate. Gary twisted his lips into a sneer as he gave in to the call.
After a particularly wide miss of the knife Gary seemed to step down, away, towards, and behind all at once. The silent man stopped at the display as Gary faded from sight at the shadowy afterimages distracting him from Gary as he stepped around to behind the man. 「Stealth」 had triggered, then had toggled some additional effect from his matching Affinity and Mana Reserves. In the heat of the moment Gary didn’t pay attention to the slight smoky tinge everything had taken on in his sight as he stooped slightly and grabbed the man in a bearhug from behind at his pelvis and lifted.
A roar came from his throat as the lift turned into an arching back and a sharp fall backwards with the silent man taking the brunt of the impact. Without thinking, Gary had just German suplexed a man onto a cobblestone street. Even through the grip he felt bones in the man’s body give way as the wet pop-crunch was almost masked by a sharp scream of pain as the man broke his silence at last. Gary rolled out from under the man and turned him over while keeping a grip on the man’s right leg. The teenager kept his grip on the screaming man’s foot and ankle while glaring back at the other two thugs. The bald man had recovered and was about to get up when he had frozen at the scream, and the wiry man had rolled over to watch the scene unfold with spasming gasps and tear-streaked eyes.
“Drop it,” Gary roared into the crisp winter air; a plume of vapor escaping his mouth as emphasis to his order. Gary straightened at the lack of movement and the bald man instantly tossed his knife. The wiry man struggled and finally got his club free only to shove it out of reach with one hand as he gasped for air. The screaming man at his feet probably didn’t have the presence of mind to follow orders but Gary saw his nice knife had skittered away in the impact.
“Now! You three fucked up, and fucked up bad. If you want to live through this I suggest you be real cooperative from now on!” A vigorous nod from both non-screaming men as they looked with horrified concern at the third one. Gary glanced down to see the man’s knife arm was at a very bad angle in two spots. He felt no remorse. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to kill you three. What the fuck were you thinking; attacking a clearly-marked priest?!”
“Gary, that’s enough.” Remmy’s voice cut through the haze in Gary’s head, causing gray eyes to blink rapidly before he felt the tension drain out of his body. Looking back down, Gary released the leg with disgust and looked over to Remmy. The man was clearly recovering from the stunning sight of immediate and overwhelming violence, but was rapidly regaining his composure. “I think they’ve learned their lesson.”
“Maybe, but they aren't about to escape punishment.” Gary saw the guards from earlier charging towards the screams and simply raised a hand to hail them as they approached. The captain was with them and was pale as he saw the way the third man's arm was bent as he finally gave up screaming to settle for sobbing whimpers.
“Attacked the priest,” the captain simply asked. Gary nodded.
“Now before these nice men do their job, turn out your pockets.”. The two other thugs stared dumbly at the order. “You're paying the Asshole Tax before you get carted off. Valuables, weapons, sheaths, money, jewelry; anything of worth that isn't your clothes stays with me as payment for the stupidity you inflicted on us.”
The guards looked like they wanted to say something but the captain shook his head and gave Remmy a pointed look. Gary saw it and spoke.
“I saw that look. I'm entitled to compensation from these idiots, and when their thug bandit boss comes and brings his goons after me I'll run their pockets too. I know how this works. If any of these idiots have bounties I'd like it if you'd be so kind as to deliver it to where I'm staying, captain?” The two thugs had immediately moved to divest themselves of anything valuable into a pile in front of each of them, which Gary collected in his partially-shredded cloak without a word before moving to the third man’s knife.
As Gary picked it up, a shuddering thrill coursed through him at touching it. This was something he’d taken from someone who’d tried to kill him. Plunderer reacted in a way that gave him a very happy tingle up and down the inner curve of his spine; a singular thundering pulse echoing out from his heart as the feeling moved past it. Smiling despite himself Gary moved to the wounded man as Remmy came forward and glanced with a very worried expression at the twisted limb. Gary looked at it as well, noted he didn’t feel as much nausea at the sight as he thought he should, and looked to Remmy.
“Would putting things back closer to how they were make healing him easier?” Remmy gave him a look but nodded. Gary leaned over the broken man and pointed a finger in his tear-streaked sobbing face. “This is going to hurt. You still have to give me your stuff.” Before a protest could be mounted Gary grabbed the mangled limb and bent the bad parts back into the semblance of a functional limb as Remmy quickly leaned over from a different angle and this time focused Pearl magic on the arm to knit the bones back together and repair the extensive damage Gary had inflicted. The first thugs had been helped to their feet by the guards, and all of them were watching the macabre display with a mixture of mild horror and disgust.
“You were cruel there, Gary,” Remmy said in the quiet as the sobs subsided. “I understand the heat of battle being what it is, but you could have been more gentle setting the arm back straight.”
“I have no painkiller medicines, Father. And even if I did I’m not going to let you stand around for an hour or better for them to start working. He came at me with killing intent, and he got off lightly in comparison to what I’d be legally justified in doing.” Gary shook his head as Remmy finished and the man took the hint in Gary’s silvery glare to hand over anything valuable he too had. Gary added it silently to his little hoard. “If they let him out later or otherwise don’t kill him, then this horrible memory may save someone far less powerful than me from getting cut open in the street. Cruelty is cruelty yes, but this goes back to the discussions we’ve had on what people do when they let their Class go to their head. Pain now stops bloodshed later.”
Remmy sighed at the words, a weary look on his face as he stood back up to his full height. “My son, I hope you can see the hypocrisy in your words.” Remmy nodded to the guards and they collected the third man and slowly began walking them off to their fate.
“Oh, utterly.” Gary watched the men go and went back to the baskets. Transferring the remaining alms into one Gary emptied his plunder into the second with a satisfying combination of metal, cloth, and leathery sounds. “And I appreciate that you call me out on it. This is why I’m concerned about this whole Class thing. When I picked that man’s knife up, I felt the part of me that contains my Class radiate joy up and down my spine. Joy, Remmy. I Plundered something, and it felt good. That is not right, and I need you to keep calling me on my bullshit lest I fall for this allure.”
The old priest gave Gary a look of deep concern before grunting and motioning Gary onwards for the final parts of their work today. Gary stacked the basket with the alms into the one with his loot so as to suppress the sounds within and make the whole assembly easier to carry. Into the crisp chill of the air Remmy spoke gently.
“God have mercy on our souls, then. This road is long and dark, filled with many terrors.”
“Amen,” Gary replied in an even lower mutter as he followed with a contemplative look on his own face.