Mongrel

“Aren’t they just the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?”

Mongrel took his eyes off the young couple cavorting in the grass and glanced over his shoulder at the demoness as she sauntered out onto the porch.

“I won’t argue with that,” he muttered, and bit into the greasy sausage he had filched from an unattended pan in the kitchen. “So sweet I think I’m getting cavities. And I’ve got enough of those already.”

“Poor thing.” Nyx patted his cheek, her skin unnervingly warm. He felt her claws scrape on his tender, freshly shaven chin as she pulled her hand away. “Might I have a bite?”

“Huh?” Mongrel found that his attention had drifted back to the children—the she-bear one was squeezing the poor boy to pieces again. Then, looking down, he said, “Oh,” and offered up the sausage in her direction. “Knock yourself out.”

He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t look away. Seeing the two of them made an old, half-forgotten scar pulse in him, something he’d really rather forget. It was quite aggravating.

“I'm unable to tell if Samantha is harmless or dangerous,” Nyx mused while looking out over the yard, chewing daintily with a hand to her mouth. “What do you think?”

“Um, not sure.”

“Matthew.”

“Yes?” He glanced briefly in her direction, blinking away a haze of memories.

“Why, you’re barely leering at me at all! Are you sure you’re all right, dearest?”

“You’re too funny,” Mongrel grumbled flatly. But now that she mentioned it, he couldn’t help but let his gaze drift down to her breasts, just for a moment. Her fault, really, for bringing it up.

She looped a slender arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. The heat she gave off, along with her heady, cinnamony scent, was making his old heart beat much too fast. “Seeing the two of them is making me feel broody,” Nyx complained. “Wouldn’t you like to spend a little quality time with me tonight, Matthew?”

Mongrel made it a point to not glance in the direction of those big, gorgeous eyes. “I’d love to, sweetness, but I’m not sure I can afford your rates.”

“Nonsense.” She opened her mouth expectantly, flashing white, knife-sharp canines, and waited until Mongrel caught on and held up the sausage so she could chomp off another piece. “Why don’t we make a bet of it?” she added after swallowing. “Whatever game you like. If you win, I’ll let you have a night for free. I promise it would curl your toes into your heels and blow your brain out the top of your skull.”

Mongrel laughed. “How tempting. And if you win?”

“You’ll donate your soul to me, of course.” She sounded offended that he even needed to ask. “Don’t worry, dearest—I won’t work you too hard.”

“I would love to, but I’ve got business in the city. Probably won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Nyx pouted, fiery eyes smoldering as she stepped away and removed her arm from his. “Boring.”

Mongrel gave her his most winsome smile, bowed, and popped the last bit of the sausage into his mouth. “Until the morrow, then, my lady.”

The demoness turned her well-sculpted chin up at him, somehow managing to appear imperious despite being completely naked. “If I don’t get any appreciation, maybe I won’t be here tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have found myself a nice, handsome mortal who doesn’t mind living a trifle dangerously.”

“Oh, I wish you would.”

Nyx hissed, and Mongrel took that as his cue to leave, scampering off the porch while his hide was still in one piece.

* * *

Sam

“Where’s he going?” Sam asked, letting her finger track Mongrel as he stalked across the yard toward the tall, red-painted stables standing on the right-hand side of the farmhouse. He gave a pair of sharp whistles, one pitched higher than the other, and before long two chimps came running to assist their master in whatever he was doing.

“Oh, he’s headed into town,” Will said absently. “He sells some of the produce he makes to earn money for his drinking, gambling, and whoring fund.”

Charming.

“What town?” Sam asked.

“Sheerhome. It’s more of a city, really—the biggest one in this part of the Frontier.”

“Ooh, can we go there?”

Will grimaced. “It’s really not much of a tourist destination. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea right now,” Will said, a little sharply. “You need to be here right now, to focus on your training.” Seeing her indignation, his face softened. “Sorry. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s the animals that populate this place. We need to get your level up a bit before I’ll feel comfortable letting you off the farm.”

Sam nodded, biting her lip. “I understand.” Then she allowed herself a little smile. “Did I happen to hear you say ‘training’ just now?”

Will chuckled. “I thought that would get your attention.”

“What kind of training?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you stay at Level 1 forever, did you? We’ve got to go through the basics of your Profession, and get you started on leveling. There’s a lot to cover, and not a lot of time, I'm afraid.”

“Why don’t we have a lot of time?”

“I'll get there. Like I said, there’s a lot for you to learn, so it’s easier if we take it piecemeal.”

“Okay!”

“Good. Let me show you around the farm so you know what’s where, then we can get started properly.”

Will got Sam some hand-me-down footwear, and she followed eagerly at his heels as he wandered across the yard, pointing at buildings and explaining their purpose. They poked their heads into the stables, where Number Two and Number Four were strapping a harness on a long-eared donkey. Mongrel lounged nearby, leaning against a chest-high stall while watching his underlings work.

“This here’s Zero,” Mongrel said, nodding toward the donkey. “She’s kind of like an honorary familiar at this point. You can pet her if you like.”

“Oh, can I?” Sam cooed, and immediately stepped up to the brown-colored animal with its huge black eyes. “I’ve never been this close to a donkey before.” Somehow, it felt almost equally as exotic as a chimp.

“She’s a mule, not a donkey,” Mongrel corrected.

Sam apologized to the mule and extended a hesitant hand to the beast. Zero sniffed at her palm, then began lipping at them. Sam giggled at the ticklish sensation, and stroked the mule up the side of her head. She seemed to enjoy it.

Once the furry fellows with their task, Number Four led Zero outside by her bridle so she could be hitched up to a wagon filled with all sorts of things—mostly edible ones. Number Two broke off from his brother and approached Sam, making nimble signs with both hands and wearing a querying expression.

“He’s asking if you want anything from the city,” Will explained. “Clearly, he’s a lot more polite than his owner.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Mongrel whined, but did not care enough to look up from inspecting his nails.

“You were meant to,” Will replied.

“Thank you, Number Two,” Sam said and gave the furry creature a pat on the head, “but I wouldn’t even know what to ask for.” She could use a proper pair of boots, since the ones Will had given her fit a little snug, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you could ask someone to eyeball the measurements on.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Will, however, had a list of things he wanted purchased, and offered a pack of cigarettes for Number Two and his brother to split between them if they carried out the task. The chimps accepted gladly.

Then Mongrel set off with his mule and wagon, whistling as he walked alongside Zero with a hand on her neck. The chimps rode on the wagon, and were already passing a cigarette back and forth. Mongrel took into a wide, bumpy trail that led in among the trees, and he soon disappeared among their staggered lines.

Will continued on, showing Sam the big crop fields downslope where wheat and oats made a carpet of shining gold beneath the morning sun. Number One wandered sedately among their rows, occasionally bending down to touch one of the plants with a greenish glow pulsing from his hand. Using a Farmer skill called Nurture to promote growth, Will explained. Because the chimps regularly treating the crops this way greatly accelerated production, they were apparently about to reap their second harvest of the year.

Then there was the chimps’ hut, which consisted of a single large room with bunks and hammocks for the boys to sleep in, but quite frankly the place stank even the from outside, and it looked a mess, so Sam was content with looking in through a window.

Will showed off a chicken coop, with a gaggle of hens clucking and their red-maned rooster screaming angrily for the intruders to go away. Sam obliged, offering apologies, and Will instead took her out back of the farmhouse, where they passed a well ringed with stones and came to a vegetable garden, as well as a smaller one nearby which Will explained was a place where he grew herbs used in his work. It was filled with all sorts of beautiful flowers, a profusion of color.

Will picked one for her, a little yellow one with slender petals. “Celandine,” he explained, holding it between two fingers. “It has several good medicinal properties. I use it often.”

Sam grinned as she took it, and could not resist pinning it behind her ear. “You were never a flowers kinda guy, were you?”

Will shrugged, looking over his herb garden. “I guess not. I picked it up for work, and somewhere along the way I began to enjoy collecting different herbs. Though, to be honest, Number One does most of the maintenance. I just plant them.”

“What do you do for work, anyway?”

“Ah.” The sour look that fell over his face told her that he was going to give her another evasive answer. “I might be a Cook by Profession, but I’d call myself more of an alchemist. I brew potions and medicines and things—some that I let Mongrel sell for a shared profit, and sometimes made to order items for specific clients. Like the local lord, for instance.”

“I see,” Sam said. “But that’s not why they call you ‘Misfortune’, is it?”

Will’s face darkened further. “No, it’s not.”

“Well, why do they?”

“It’s not a fun topic. Mind if we save that one for later?”

“Okay. But you will tell me?”

“Of course,” Will said firmly. “I’m going to tell you everything, in time. I’m just trying to do it in order, to sort of ease you into things.”

There was also an outhouse at the back of the property, and some thirty feet off another small building made of cut stone, with a chimney sticking out of the tiled roof. That was Will’s workshop, he explained, where he worked on his concoctions.

“Can I see?” Sam asked.

“Probably not a good idea. Some of the compounds I work with are toxic, and you’re pretty clumsy, no offense. I’d hate for you to accidentally ingest something lethal.”

“I’m not that clumsy, Will.”

He just shrugged, smiling.

“All right. Keep your secrets then, dick.”

After that he had them stroll past a woodshed on the left-hand side of the property that Mongrel used when he decided to actually do some carpentry, which apparently did not happen very often.

“That’s about it,” Will said. “It’s only us out here—no neighbors to worry about or anything, other than the occasional beast or bandit. Sheerhome’s about an hour’s walk to the west.” He pointed in the direction Mongrel had gone. “Questions?”

Sam held up her hand.

“Yes, the pretty one in the stolen tunic.”

“Thank you. How did you get to know Mongrel, anyway? Or is that a secret too?”

Will shook his head. “It’s not a secret at all, it’s just not particularly interesting. Mongrel fished me out of the water and took me in, mostly so he had someone to do the busywork that the chimps wouldn’t or couldn’t.”

“So he was like your boss?”

“I guess so.”

“But he’s not anymore?”

“No, not really. Mongrel is clever enough when he wants to be, but he usually can’t be bothered, so he’s happy enough letting me manage the day-to-day around here.”

“So it’s not because you’re a higher level than him?”

Will chuckled. “Not really. A person’s level is important here, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not an absolute measure of someone’s worth or anything.”

“Why are you a higher level than him in the first place, if he’s been here longer?”

“Leveling doesn’t necessarily follow a linear progression. Like I've mentioned before, it’s based on your progress and achievements within the activity associated with your Profession, both on a personal level and objectively from the Concord’s point of view, so most people gain levels quickly at first, then plateau somewhere when they stop finding new things to learn or achieve.”

“Right. And as a Laborer that means, what? Lifting bigger and heavier things?”

“You’re being slightly reductive, but yeah, more or less.” He motioned her off to the southwestern edge of the property, where the edge of the crop field transitioned into a patch of bumpy earth covered only in short-cropped grass. Tree stumps and broken rocks littered the area, some small as heads poking out of the ground, others almost the size of her entire torso. “For your first bit of training today, you’re going to help me clear the rocks out of this field so we can till the earth and expand our farmland.”

Sam crinkled her nose. “Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence and all, but some of these look like they weigh a literal ton. Do you really think I could lift those?”

Will did not appear concerned. “We won’t know until you try. How many points did you put in Strength again?”

“Eight.”

“Good.”

“Artie said that was a lot.”

“Who?”

“Artie, that slaver you nearly scared to death.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, it’s quite a lot. Depending on your Profession, people start with either eight or ten points to allocate total, so having eight in just one attribute is a nice start. Where did you put your other points?”

“Uh…” Sam searched her memory for the exact numbers. It was all kind of a blur at this point. “Eight in Strength, six in Toughness, and six in Dexterity, I think.”

“Good.” Will looked slightly relieved. “If you had twenty points to spend, that means you did the vow properly. What abilities did you pick?”

“Those passive things? There was one called ‘Tenacious’, and one called ‘Stoneskin’. Then I got one for free called ‘Healing Factor’.”

“Yeah, all Laborers get Healing Factor. It’ll make you recover faster from injury or fatigue. Stoneskin is a good one, but Tenacious…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I guess that’s on me for not giving you clearer instructions.”

Sam stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, I thought it looked good. So, I’m assuming that whole vow business is one of those things you’ll tell me about later?”

“That would probably be best.”

“Okay, but was it really necessary for me to eat a piece of paper in the middle of all that?”

“It was really necessary.”

She couldn’t tell if he was messing with her or not, but decided to let it go with a snort. “If you say so. Well, I guess I might as well get started—but you can’t laugh at me if this goes wrong.” Rolling up the sleeves of her tunic, she began to approach the nearest rock, a mossy lump of granite that was about pumpkin-sized, and began to stretch in preparation of attempting to move it.

“Hold on just a second,” Will said, lifting a hand. “Let me try something. Try not to think about anything for a minute, okay?”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” He gestured vaguely. “Like, clear your mind or whatever. Count trees. That sort of thing.”

Sam huffed, but did her best to follow the instructions, trying to think of nothing but an empty black void. Results were mixed—she kept thinking about Will, instead. It was impossible not to, with him standing right in front of her with that stupidly handsome face of his.

“Identify [aggregated attribute scores],” Will said after a few moments.

Sam felt a little tickle skitter across the inside of her skull, making her shiver. She worked her jaw to try and get rid of it, but it disappeared after a second or two. “What was that? Another one of your magic tricks?”

“Yep. It’s a little technical, so don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense to you, but basically your attributes aren’t the only thing that determine how well you embody those traits in reality. All sorts of other factors are baked into it, too. Let’s take Strength as an example. There’s your natural strength, as in what you had before you came to the Frontier. Then there’s the Strength attribute points you put in, which modify that strength, like a multiplier. But there are other factors as well. I don’t know them all, since digging into the guts of the Concord can be tough, and not best done by someone of my Profession, but the biggest one I know of aside from attribute score is something called an effort multiplier, which acts directly on your attribute score to determine how much you get out of your points.

“What it boils down to is that someone who works with their attribute frequently to improve themselves by their own merit will get more out of that attribute than someone who only relies on the Concord for easy power boosts.”

“I don’t get it,” Sam said flatly. “Can I lift this rock now?”

“I’m trying to say that some of your aggregated scores are even higher than I expected, meaning your effort modifiers must be very good. You’ve been working hard for the past five years, haven’t you?”

Sam blushed a little. “I… I really tried. I didn’t know why at the time, I just felt like I had to train.”

Will grinned. He looked a little less tired when he smiled. “Well, you must have done a great job to get numbers like this. I think I can say with confidence that between your effort multipliers and the extra attribute points from your divine vow, there’s not many Level 1s in the Frontier who can top the raw power you’re packing.”

“Aww, you really think so?”

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

“Heh. Nice.” After pushing herself for so long without any clear goal or hope of progress, finally getting some praise felt pretty damn sweet.

With no further interruptions forthcoming, Sam was eager to test out her new strength after the way Will had hyped it up. Squatting low, she gripped the edges of the large stone and heaved, lifting with her legs. Her muscles quivered with strain, and she let out a sharp breath. The rock shifted, and she got a better grip underneath it, and soon it lifted off the ground, her arms trembling as she hoisted it between her legs.

“It’s heavy,” she grunted. “But… not that heavy.” She couldn’t keep the amazement out of her voice. She felt like a little girl. “Where do you want it?”

“Good job.” Will clapped his hands with only a hint of sarcasm, then motioned in the direction of the treeline. “Just somewhere over there, out of the way.”

“You got it, man.” Mostly to see if she could, Sam shifted her grip again, hauled the rock higher until it was resting against her shoulder and one side of her head, rough edges digging into her skin.

“Sam,” Will said warningly. “Maybe you ought to start out slow.”

Twisting her body, half-spinning, Sam hurled the heavy stone in a steep arc, shooting for the treeline. It landed about two thirds of the way there, twelve or thirteen feet off, with a heavy thump.

“Fuck,” she muttered, flexing rubbed-raw hands.

“Not bad,” Will observed.

Sam flashed a devilish grin as she went off to roll her first victim off into the trees. “Hold on. I’ll get the next one all the way there—watch.”

Will sighed, arms crossed. “Well, I guess I can’t complain about your enthusiasm.”