Soul Card

Chapter Two

The map was perhaps one of the most cherished items left to Olin by his late grandfather — although, he would probably never admit that to anyone out loud, especially not to his father. He often found himself rememising about one of the many times his grandfather regailed him with a story; Olin had always followed along as a child, pointing out all the places his grandfather had visited on the map. Perhaps that was where his love of stories truly began. Perhaps his grandfather's adventures are what inspired him the most.

'Pack light,' his grandfather would always say. 'You can't out run a twenty meter desert seether with two heavy sacks of useless crap. And trust me, Olin, when you're trying to out run a desert seether, everything becomes useless crap.' Although, truthfully, Olin wasn't even sure he could out run a desert seether naked.

'It's here,' said Olin, gesturing to what looked to be nothing more than a mere accidental stain left on an otherwise, highly detailed map.

Charles put on his spectacles — not without giving them a quick wipe-over, of course — and then leaned over the map with a bemused expression. 'My lord, that looks to be a stain.'

Olin nearly slammed his fist down on the dining room table in frustration. 'I'm aware it's an ink stain, Charles. It's supposed to look like that. Their location is to be kept discreet. So it can never be officially marked on any map.'

'My lord, Do you really think this is a good idea? I mean, I know you want to follow in the footsteps of your grandfather, and that's all well and good, but wouldn't it be more prudent to join one of the more… acceptable guilds, instead?'

'I'm joining the Blood Cloaks. We are joining the Blood Cloaks, Charles.'

'I— Olin I— I can't be joining an adventurer’s guild; I'm sixty-four. My lord, I know I can swing a good axe out in the garden, but there's quite a difference between chopping firewood in half and cleaving the head off a Calamity dragon.'

'There's more to adventuring than Soul card hunting, Charles. How many times have I asked you to find me some incredibly obscure item, and yet you've still managed to find it? And who else knows as much about spirit-herbs and magical plants as you? And who was it that found me my Soul card and bought it from that crazed lunatic? What was his name again?'

'I believe it was Augustine, my lord. Look, I understand your point—”

'My point is that you have valuable skills, Charles. You may not see it, but I do. And so will the Blood Cloaks, I'm sure of it. Besides, everyone knows that information is the most valuable resource there is.'

'Well, that and money,' said Charles. 'But still, I just—'

'Charles, think about it! You wander in to a local town wearing the infamous blood-red cloak. You walk up and open the door to their local Inn, with lots of women inside, might I add, and the Inn Falls silent. There's whispers, Charles. There's low murmuring. Do you want to know what they're saying, Charles? Do you want to know what all those women are whispering?

'Please,' replied Charles flatly, 'do tell.'

'They're saying “Look, it's The Blood Cloak Butler!“ It has a ring to it, doesn't it,' said Olin enthusiasticly. 'I thought of it just now.'

'My lord, I really don't wish to partake in combat. I simply—'

'That's what I'm saying, Charles. You wont have to. Besides, if anyone's going to be cleaving a dragon's head off, it's going to be me. Just think of your role as … a support role. You know, information and supply gathering, stuff like that. If you think about it, it's not any different to what you're already doing.'

Charles seemed to chew on Olin's words for a moment, while he regarded the detailed map once more. 'While my role may appear to be unchanged, my lord, the environment and circumstances will be entirely different.'

'Charles—'

'I haven't finished, my lord. If we are to become adventurers, as you say, then I have two conditions that will need to be met.'

'Well, well, haven't you become a shrewd negotiator. Well, let me hear them, then.'

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'Twenty-five percent. That's the cut I'll need of any of the loot we find.'

'That sounds reasonable enough. And your other condition?' Asked Olin.

'And I will also need … my own Soul card. Nothing immediately, my lord. Just— Just something that will enhance my skills for this type of role in the long-run. If I am to aid you, then don't you think it necessary?'

A butler obtaining a Soul card… Well, it certainly wasn't unheard of for a butler to be bestowed there own Soul card, but those Soul cards were typically of a common utilty-type; card's sometimes required of butlers for specialty use. Charles definitely had a point though; If Olin wanted to become an even greater adventurer than his late grandfather, then he'd need all the advantage he could find. The question wasn't if he should bestow Charles with a Soul card, the real question is what type would be the most beneficial to Olin. What type of Soul card would compliment Olin's own Soul card the most. What was Olin's Soul card, anyway. Of course, it had a narrative device, but he was yet to receive any spells or useful abilities to know anything further. His Soul card was an acclimation type though… Perhaps that meant that his own spells and abilities would acclimate to other Soul card wielders around him once he leveled-up? This could actually be quite useful. Perhaps this theory could be tested somehow. If they were to make a brief stop along the way, then they might be able to obtain an appropriate Soul card for Charles, and then when Olin inevitably levels-up, which is probably going to be soon anyway, then they could see how well their spells and abilities complement one another.

'I've devised a theory,' said Olin. 'Seeing as my Soul card is an acclimation type, I suspect that each time I level-up, my own spells and abilities have the potential to acclimate to other Soul card weilders around me. So, I'm thinking that if we can find you a useful Soul card before we reach The Blood Cloaks Guild, we might have time to test my theory along the way.'

Charles seemed quite surprised by Olin's decision — almost taken aback. 'Thank you, my lord. Truely, thank you. I— I have to admit, you really have given all this much greater thought that I've anticipated. If this theory of yours does, in fact, turn out to be true, then who we ally ourselves with in the near future will become quite important in regards to your future spells and abilities.'

Of course, Olin had actually stolen the idea from his Soul card’s narrative device, but Charles certainly didn't need to know that.

'Wait. That wasn't my idea?' Olin muttered.

'I'm sorry, my lord?'

Olin shook his head. 'It's nothing, Charles. I'm— I'm still thinking.'

Despite Olin being able to hear the narrative device, it was quickly becoming exceeding difficult to distinguish the Soul card’s narrative voice from his own thoughts. It was as if the two were becoming intertwined somehow. How soon would it be before Olin's unable to differentiate between the Soul card’s narrative voice and his own thoughts entirely? How much of his own thoughts were currently his? Wait! Did it even matter? People did say that two minds were better than one. So if anything, this was actually an advantage, right?

Olin sighed. 'Looks like we'll be using my father’s Voyager tickets after all. We will stop at Port Hanwig along the way.'

'You plan to see your father after all, my lord?'

'Absolutely not. We'll be in and out of Hanwig city before he catches wind of us. Our only priority is finding you a useful Soul card and that's it.'

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According to Olin's grandfather, an adventurer only needed to carry with him the bare minimum; one extra pair of garments; a second extra pair of briefs, just incase you came across an extra-scary beast — although, Olin was pretty sure that was just a joke; a small assortment of dried herbs — mainly Moonweed and Physalwack for healing; cured and dried meats, with the amount doubled to the approximation of one's travel time; a single-handed pickaxe, mainly for digging trenches and splitting firewood than for any combat usage, and one highly detailed map.

Olin, however, wasn't quite the adventurer his grandfather was. Yet! So, he decided to employ a sightly different approach.

'You've packed my extra pillowcase too, Charles? And what about those grits that I like?

'Yes, my lord. And the cast iron-skillet, and the Oxenberry wineskins, and your favourite grits, and those leather boots you like. Now, have you sorted through your clothing yet?'

While Olin did own a vast array of garments, refined jewelry, and fine leathers, most simply weren't suited for adventuring. And the few that he did have, well, those were all too pristine-looking. These weren't the clothes of a veteran adventurer. These were the clothes of a nobleman who barely saw a days hunting. Olin didn't want to arrive at the Blood Cloaks Guild looking as though he'd just come straight from the tailor's shop. What he really wanted was to look as though he'd just cleared a dungeon; someone heroic; someone experienced. And it's not like he could go into a local shop and buy that type of clothing. Nor could he wait outside a dungeon for an unsuspecting adventurer. No, Olin needed a way to appear as though he were a veteran adventurer, like those performers he often saw at the Hanwig theatre. He—

'Charles. Charles! I have a great idea.'

'Another, my lord?'

'I'm serious, Charles. How we present ourselves to the Blood Cloaks Guild is going to be important. I can't arrive looking like—'

'A sheltered nobleman?'

'Charles, please, take this seriously. What we need is to look as though we belong. Like we're part of the furniture. When we arrive at Port Hanwig, I want you to make some enquiries. Find out who is responsible for the designing and making of the theatre wardrobe. I want to know who is responsible for making the performer's clothing.'

'Of course, my lord. I shall make the enquiries upon arrival. Does this mean you intend to have them make us our garments?'

'Precisely. But they'll need to be a bit more authentic. Something that will actually last.'

'While that is quite an ingenious idea, my lord, is it really going to matter what we're wearing by the time we arrive?'

'First impressions matter, Charles, everyone knows that. Now, dont forget to pack light. I can't have you straining yourself carrying everything.'