Large thickening clouds cast their shadows over the gates of Oarmouth. Lucius and his counterpart, Geoff stood steadfast in the showers, their faces barely visible through the mistified air. With a raise of his hand, Jah’Ir halted the carriage, stopping us just short of the gate. The final croak of the wheels died in the roaring rain and the gates slowly opened. I felt a tinge of sadness not hearing the ceremonious, “Open!” I always had before.

The door to the carriage opened, blasting cool wind inside and blotting out my hearing. The roaring was from the rain, not the crackling thunder. Lucius pulled us out to a nearby door just on the other side, a small barrack. Unlike the one across the town, this one was vacant, its only resident, two lit torches on parallel pillars center building. The storm quieted as Lucius shut the door.

“Bloody sthorm. Came from nowhere, it did!” Lucius turned his helmet upside down, a torrent of water covering the previously dry stone floor.

The door opened again, Geoff sealed it tightly behind him, tossing a metal latch and making it click. His armor shone brighter than ever under the torch light. Its glint reflected directly into my annoyed eye. “Came outta nowhere!” He said, in a Cockney accent.

The pair both put their armor onto two stands just against the wall. Underneath their plated armor they both wore simple garbs with flower prints along the stomach and legs much like Norman and Bertha’s. These, however, were taken from bed sheets not curtains. Obviously whoever tailored the town’s clothes was either dead or just loved the strange flower patterns most decor had.

“What I thaid!” Lucius wiped his face, only spreading the wet and grime across his matted beard.

Jah’Ir had taken the liberty of dispatching his things on a nearby stand, hanging his regal bag with little care. He found a stray hammock in the corner, absent of light and made it a homely resting spot for the evening. I sat there observing it all, not the faintest clue what to do, kicking my legs as I sat in a crooked chair, tipping back and forth. Boredom began to set in and there was nothing to do. A book might’ve satiated my aching brain, but the only thing coming close to that was a single piece of parchment on the wall. A bounty notice.

Notice!

Oarmouth Bandits

10 Gold Reward

Dead or Alive

Last Seen in Oarmouth Acres

I gave myself a pat on the back. That was my reading for the week. Not really, but reading the crumpled paper did shock me. They’d be paying Jah’Ir 10 gold. I knew better than to think he was going to keep all 10, let alone 1, but I hoped I’d get maybe a single piece for helping. I needed a new wardrobe. Xeron’s Robe had grown comfortable, despite the occasional chafing, but it was high time I had a pair of underwear. If the rain wasn’t telling enough, the winds brought with it were. Lucius and Geoff didn’t seem perturbed by the occasional draft shifting its way into the barracks. They were content enough with thigh-high shorts, no-sleeved tunics, and playing cards.

“Full. House.” Geoff said, leaving Lucius to stare in bewilderment.

He slammed a handful of cards to the table. I couldn’t tell what he had, but it must’ve not been good because Geoff immediately cackled, holding his chest. “Absolute shite that is.”

“Lucky dirt stomper.” Lucius grabbed more cards.

I moved to the back corner of the barracks where the light couldn’t reach. I expected it to be colder the farther I walked, but as I got there it only warmed. I sat on the ground and skimmed through all of my menus, saying hello to my four static companions’ stagnant faces and making more potions with the broken vials. A small idea popped in my head as I was finishing the final potion. If I could combine the herbs, why not try to combine the actual potions.

Healing Potion (Refurbished) -- Heals and removes wounds from the user. [Refurbished -- Good as new! Take one for full effects.]

It definitely worked, at the cost of another vial. It was likely I needn’t use the actual potion either, just the vials. I attempted it again, this time using some swords and clubs I had grabbed from the battlegrounds.

Iron Sword (Refurbished) -- A sword made of pure iron; sharp, ready, and capable of cutting any foe. [Refurbished -- Restored to its original quality, the blade has become lighter and swings faster.]

The bonuses weren’t bad, but they weren’t anything to write about either. Combining them like this seemed a waste rather than just having them fixed by a blacksmith.

I closed my inventory, faced with boredom yet again. I started to spiral, thinking of every little thing I could. I wasn’t going crazy, merely trying to compel a different menu to pop up. I rambled random words for at least 15 minutes and when one finally showed up in the form of the most obvious.

Map

It opened to the entirety of Oarmouth in an expanded slide. Every shop and house was labeled with a name or symbol. Places I had yet to be were shown as well, the northern barracks and a bunch of stores that seemed untouched. On the bottom right was a key, detailing everything I needed to understand what I was looking at, though in this case, the symbols were hardly needed. Blythe would be a different story.

I had unlocked three maps. When I tried to swipe Oarmouth’s map away, another took its place. Arach Woods. It was an expanse of trees and a river between a ravine. Not much there aside from nature and the charred remains of spider life. The other one was Oarmouth Acres. It was practically the same, instead of a river was a road, but the road did have a point-of-interest marked down.

Battleground -- A fight recently took place here.

“What am I doing?” I whispered. It was an invasion of thoughts all at once. I had let myself get too comfortable, ignored it for too long. You don’t know anyone here, what’s the point? You don’t belong.

I shook my head and looked at the pair, who were still playing cards, Go Fish instead of poker. Jah’Ir was still resting, and with the rain outside showing no signs of letting up, I decided to join the fun. After all, what point was there in wallowing when the future was uncertain anyways?

After several rounds of us having our asses handed to us by Geoff the rain eventually died down, but the sky remained dark. Dusk had stretched its mask of darkness. I thanked the pair for the games and woke up Jah’Ir before we both headed back to the tavern.

I thought Bertha was jovial before, this time she was almost a blithering wreck, tears streaking her chubby cheeks as she strangled the both of us. I suppose us being gone the entire day didn’t alleviate the fear that we might have died. I was glad she seemed to care so much when we had only met recently. Norman wasn’t one for showing his feelings physically, he exercised his emotion through gifts of appreciation, which, even against Jah’Ir’s ever present protesting, he produced. He brought us his signature steak and veggies. It must have been his special, because he was damn good at it.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The thoughts I had pushed away earlier began to resurface as we ate. I toyed with a slice of carrot, finding it to squish underneath the wooden fork. "So tomorrow when you get back." I paused. "Do you plan on staying for long?"

I hadn't noticed, but his face was smothered in sauce and flakes of food. He shook his head. "I'll likely return to Blythe and the Guild."

"I thought you weren't part of the Guild?"

He swallowed a difficult chunk of food. "I'm not, but there's always someone needed for those jobs."

"And you don't have to split the rewards, which means the townspeople don't have to pay as much."

"For the most part."

I admired Jah’Ir for his sacrifices, his plight and willingness to do what was right. It wasn’t just about showing good grace and convincing people the celven weren’t that bad, it was his true connection to the good of man.

I spun a round of potato. “Is the Guild hiring?”

Jah’Ir raised a brow and sighed as if he regretted the words. “You’d be dead within a week without any magic or special training.”

The issue wasn’t my lack of “magic” it was my magic. But he was right, If I wasn’t able to use necromancy I was no better than a man with a broom against an orc with a greataxe.

“Perhaps you could…” he trailed off. “No…”

“What?”

“The university in Blythe, but they’re all gone--shipped off to war.”

“Are there no jobs that aren’t power-reliant? Like cleaning houses or something?”

“You’d become a freelance maid?”

“Something to start out, I don’t know.”

His eyes widened. “A proposition! I have a few connections in Blythe, would you be willing to apprentice under someone? A tailor or blacksmith?” I was interested in creative outlets like tailoring, but I was more of the drawing type of artist or writing. “I have a friend, Rudol, he’s a rune warden. With your mana control he wouldn’t hesitate to take you under his wing.”

“A rune warden?” They were a rare sort, masterfully skilled in weaving runes into scrolls for quick spells or using them on flat land for traps, although, what it was usually used for in Riptide, was quality of life inventions like running hot water. I couldn’t wait to run random errands and grab hot coffee for my future master.

It was an option, even as disgruntled the idea made me. Thinking of it only made me less interested. There was another way, albeit incredibly difficult to manage. I could find another thrall, another undead, but I would need to resurrect them as soon as they die. Vuldan and Billy were good examples, able to speak, but they were known criminals and notably dead. The thrall would have to be content in their passing, strong, and died of natural causes. He would be my “leader,” grabbing the quests from the guild and I would be the lowly scout who was gifted an extraordinary opportunity.

I looked back at Jah’Ir who was still explaining what rune wardens did and agreed. “I’ll meet him then.” After we finished our meals I got up, only to step on a baby carrot. Immediately I groaned. “First things first, is there a cobbler in this town?”

The following day Jah’Ir left town with Lucius and Geoff. He gave me two gold pieces and told me to meet with Mr. Montgomery, the local tailor who was just down the street from the tavern. I looked over at myself in a window whilst walking the road. “Wearing a dreary black robe will paint you in an unfriendly guise,” Jah’Ir had said. He was right. Looking at me from down the road, you’d mistake me as a thief, a charlatan, here to offer you misfortune.

I came to a stop at a building with the word TAILOR above it. It was an older shopfront, made entirely of wood. It had two misshapen and yellow windows, but the inside was remarkably pristine. As I entered I found the floors to be smooth, sanded down and seemingly waxed. Textile threads spooled from the top of a shelf into smaller cubbies and met as one rainbow connected to a rune. I leaned in, finding the threads already in the midst of creation, the resulting crafted fabric bore bear flowers and bright petals. Definitely the town’s tailor.

“A customer?” He came from the back. “Thought I must be hearing things!” He jittered, his two clasped hands fiddling before him. “What do you need? Coat? Trousers?” His words were quick as were his strides. He looked at me with a sort of dread, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re here to take me. Oh wondrous death, I implore you, patience one last day.”

“What?” I chuckled as I realized he was poking fun at my attire. “Yes, Mr. Montgomery.”

I caught him off-guard mentioning his name, he actually seemed spooked. “W-wait, please. Everything was in jest!”

“I demand…” I paced at him, the man sinking until he hit the wall behind him, “New clothes!” I smiled, the man slowly coming to the truth.

“A-ah! You must be that boy Jah’Ir spoke of.” He flickered his index around like a disapproving mother. “Never told me you were a rapscallion to boot.”

“Merely adhering to the position you granted me.” I loosened the neck of my cloak.

“N-now you said new clothing, correct?”

“Shoes as well, if you would be so kind.”

He nodded slowly, a thought forming in his recovering brain. “Been a few years since I’ve dabbled in cobblery, but!” He pulled a strange piece of wood, shaped into a fat arrow. “I’ve still the skill.”

I smiled, but found that to be temporary as the next steps had all but torn that joy away. He put me on a pedestal, wrapping me in a marked thread. He muttered numbers I couldn’t understand and quickly had me sitting. Another thread ran along my feet and he pulled tightly, leaving red indentations that made it appear as if I was some sort of bondage aficionado. With a quick tug, all of the threads came loose and my body was allowed to breathe freely once more. Not a moment was spared, he ducked beneath his countertop and produced a spool of thread, much darker colors than what I had first seen. He cleared the bright spools from the shelf and tossed them aside without care.

Thread entered the strange contraption and the rune began to glow. It was like a sewing machine, but more. The threads combined and flowed freely, taking shape in the air. It was a large coat, one that the royals would usually wear. Bleak and black with white button linings and skirting. I was astounded, but it felt unbecoming. Sure I had jested in my past life about wearing a purple leopard print pimp outfit, but this was beyond my position and class. I couldn’t dare do justice to an outfit this pristine. I knew I would have to take off Xeron’s Robe eventually, but I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. I had no clue if it still had special powers, but on the off-chance it did.

No need, I immediately thought. I wasn’t fighting anyone. I only had four summons either way. I wasn’t even halfway to the original cap. It would be safe in my inventory.

The coat flourished in the air, Montgomery held it out, fluttering like an exorbitant butterfly. “There you are, a fine coat for a fine young man. Certainly more alluring than that grotty robe.”

I held my cloak in utter dismay. “Grotty?”

“A plain black cloak. Bah!” He ushered me to a long mirror, holding the coat in front of me. Despite its size it did make me look distinguished, perhaps a bit too much. It’d certainly bring attention.

“Any chance we could tone down the glamor?”

He rolled his eyes. “As you wish.”

By the time all my clothes were done and I was finally wearing a pair of shoes, Jah’Ir had arrived at the store. I was handing the man a gold piece when I heard his arrival. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“Now?” I responded.

“Leaving so soon?” Mr. Montgomery stepped past his counter to greet Jah’Ir. “I was hoping I could improve upon this dreadful design you people chose.” He brushed his green tunic. Blissful ignorance as it was, Jah’Ir looked less than approving.

“Its the colors of my people,” he said, “The swamp lands are our beauty.”

“Oh, yes of course.” Montgomery lowered his head. “Apologies.”

Jah’Ir laid a hand on his chest and bowed. “I appreciate your helping my friend.” I thanked him as well, following Jah’Ir to the streets. I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from his satchel, caught in one of the buckles. I could only make out three words.

Spiders

25 Gold

Well 2 words and a number.

With my impeccable detective skills I deduced it was likely a bounty notice for the spiders in Arach Woods and Oarmouth Acres.

We walked through the town, passing the inn and stopping at a large building just behind it. Three steps led to a large oak door with an immaculate design etched into it. Three spherical domes topped the building, Someone's attempt at an architectural revolution.

"I must speak with the mayor. After, we'll head to Blythe." He unbuckled his satchel and walked in, paper in hand.

I waited, pacing up and down the steps. What was the first order of business? First, I would meet Rudol, but if I didn't get taken in for the apprenticeship then what? My other plan would have to suffice. The way Jah'Ir spoke, there were plenty of people left in Blythe, though unlikely they'd be strong enough to avoid questions. A needle in a haystack, but finding the perfect thrall was the most optimal alternative.

"I could just take over the city if all else fails." I laughed.

The door clicked as Jah'Ir closed it behind him. A coin purse landed in my idle hands while I was lost in thought. "10 gold," Jah'Ir said, "You've earned it."

"How--"

"Had you not taken the time to scrounge from the alchemy shop, I wouldn't be alive today." He paused. "I'd choke to death on my own blood."

"Don't mention it... seriously." I hated being thanked.

He dug into the coin purse and took a coin. "9. 1 for the clothes."

"Understandable."