“You wouldn't mind if I took a peak, would you?” Kinenhael asked, rubbing his hands together. “I'm just curious about what quests are available to the Chosen One.”

Caertonn handed him his Book of Yu'ai as they walked, Breithart obviously disinterested in sticking around his hometown any longer than he needed. The elf scanned the gold-colored page, his eyes twinkling with delight. “I really wish you would have said something earlier; there was a quest to escort a sheep back to its farm. Look at how much alum we would have gotten. I'm sure it would have been quick and easy, too!”

“I didn't know it was a big deal. When Gilghest said I was 'the Chosen One', I thought he was hard-selling the journey, you know, like a market barker throwing you a bruised apple when you just ate.”

“This is the biggest deal, my lucrative-deal-spawning friend. Most adventurers set out in the world doing what every other adventurer has done. Do that dungeon, kill those things, yada yada. But the Chosen One has a bunch of other things available that only he can do, Earth-changing quests.”

“Like escorting a sheep home?”

“Okay, that was a bad example. I mean, like, things no one else can do. Uh, slaying dragons, for instance, or saving damsels from castles.”

“Killing the Dark Lord,” Breithart added.

“Yes, killing the Dark Lord.”

“Who's that?” Lyd asked.

“The Dark Lord is this very evil man who lives in the very evil north and does evil things. He has a big, evil army that's been doing some evil things, like invading Apair and Litari.”

Caertonn stopped. “Wait, so because I'm the Chosen One, I have to kill some guy?”

“That's what the prophecy says,” Kinenhael said. “It's plastered on a tree in every town, if you want to read it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fallamari had one. But, I don't see why I have to do it. Or, more importantly, how I can do it. I'm just a level seven and an evil lord with an army has to be, gosh, at least level forty, you know?”

“Maybe he's just starting out, too.”

“Every adventurer sets out for fame and glory and a little gold,” Breithart said. “We'll get all those, but our true goal is to prepare for that battle against him. We can only assume that he will be training as hard as we are.”

“Uh, about training,” Caertonn said. “Breithart, how does this work? You're at a much higher level than we are.”

“Would you like to train, m'lord?”

“Well, I'm not sure where we should be, but I feel like we're lacking.”

Breithart stopped and turned to face the group, gazing between the three. “It's recommended that you are at least level eight by the time you enter your first dungeon. Lyd will definitely need to be higher. You as well, sir. Kinenhael might be able to survive. We should start a few quests, perhaps working on other skills at the same time. It will best utilize our time if we can work on your Obligation and Construction skills in the meantime.”

“Or, and hear me out,” Kinenhael said, “you can hunt and gather and cook and tailor and blacksmith for us from now on. You're diamonded in all those, right?”

“I am, but it would be wise for everyone to diamond and ultra diamond in as many things as possible. When you ultra diamond, you are able to create your own spells based on the expertise you gained while mastering those skills.”

“Yeah, so you can make better armor.”

“Well, not just better armor. I was able to create my shifting armor when I gained my first ultra diamond. It's a combination of Inscription and Blacksmithing. As far as I know, I'm the only one in Balobaer who has it.”

“What is it exactly?”

“Well, whenever I get a new piece of armor, I break it down to just the new pieces, create a schematic for it, and add a new inscription to my display,” he said, tapping his left forearm. “That instructs the inscriptions to unlock the pieces, which allows the armor to form into whatever I need it to be. I have over two dozen different modes available.”

Kinenhael said, “Well, that's just fucking genius. You realize that, don't you? Most people get a diamond and they create something they can mass produce to make money.”

“My family is well-off and I've never wanted for anything. I didn't need to make money.”

“Geez, rich, skilled, you good looking, too?”

“I have been told that.”

“By whom?” Kine asked, trying to peek inside his visor.

“People.”

“'People'. Well, why don't you take off your helmet and let us judge for ourselves?”

“It is always wise to be vigilant. We could be attacked at any point and I would hate to be unprepared.”

“I think that even without your helmet, we'd still be safe.”

“It's fine, Kine,” Caertonn said. “If he wants to wear his armor, then he can wear his armor.”

“Thank you, m'lord. Perhaps we should head to Metraft and take the time to level as we discussed. There may be some special quests for you that award more experience and money.”

“Oh, yeah. Let me try out my new eye patch.” Caertonn wiggled it down over his left eye and blinked a few times. To the group it appeared as an opaque black piece of velvet, but to him it was translucent, tinting the world around him just a little darker. It also allowed him to see things he couldn't see with just his eyes. On the side of his field of vision were the bars he'd seen in his book, red, green, and blue. All seemed high, if not full. As he looked at his friends, he noticed three bars above each as well as their names and their levels. Breithart's bars were all full-to-bursting.

“M. Breithart,” Caertonn said. “What's the 'M' stand for?”

“It's not important, sir.”

“Aw, no, tell him or you'll be disappointing the Chosen One,” Kinenhael teased.

There was a pregnant pause before he finally said, “Matt.”

“Matt? Okay, Matt, let's-”

“Breithart, please, m'lord.”

“Breithart. Let's try this leveling stuff.”

“Let's. You'll be able to find appropriate creatures to kill for your level with your viewer. I can take care of them for experience harvesting, but I would suggest practicing your actions and spells else you'll be a high level with low action skill.”

“Spells?” Caertonn asked. “I don't have any spells.”

Kinenhael perked up at this. “If you have mana, you have spells. Everyone has spells. You mean, you were just stabbing those pointy fuckers and the harpy and the nasty rabbits?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, gods. No wonder it was taking forever. I thought you were paying attention when I explained it to Lyd.” Since he was still holding Caertonn's Book of Yu'ai, he opened it to the front page and held it in front of him, tapping his long, slender finger next to an area. “These are your spells. Even though you're more physical than magical, you still should use your spells. They make things way fucking easier.

“This one is what's called a buff. It increases your stats while it's on. Nothing more to it. This is an augment. It increases your stats more, but only for a short time. And this is just a regular spell. Now, your spells cost more mana than Lyd's do, but that's because you're supposed to be stabbing things, not casting spells, so only use them every so often.”

“Speaking of not casting spells, why aren't you a caster, elf?” Breithart asked.

“Because, tin can, I didn't want to be.”

“Gilghest requested you choose a caster class.”

“And Gilghest can take his request and shove it up his ass. He shows up two years ago and tells me to do something, then doesn't show up to help or to even shoot the shit again, and I'm supposed to do exactly as he says? He can go fuck himself with his staff.”

All three of them said nothing, their eyes wide and their lips sucked into their teeth (or at least that was the face Lyd and Caertonn had; it was hard to tell with Breithart). “What?” Kine asked, looking between them. “Fuck, he's right behind me, isn't he?”

“Greetings, Kinenhael,” Gilghest said. “Glad to see you are hale and hearty. As for your suggestion, I believe I will pass on the cypress suppository.”

“Heh, Gilghest, so wonderful of you to drop by.” Under his breath, he added, “Finally.”

“I came to check in on the Chosen One and his boon companions. Caertonn, I'm so glad to see that you finally heeded my advice and started your journey. I notice that we've made some other changes as well as our caster deciding to be a bombardier. Greetings, minotaur.”

“Um, hi!” Lyd said brightly.

“What happened with Therpis Strondeivian?”

“A clan of minotaurs had him over for a barbecue. Over a fire,” Kinenhael said.

“I see.” The wizard stroked his long beard and eyed Lyd.

“Lyd wasn't involved,” Caertonn said. “In fact, he led us out of the village and agreed to take Therpis's place as our healer.”

“Minotaurs don't usually make great healers. There are no unique spells or racial passives to help in the battles you four will be having.”

“I will work extra hard to make up for it,” Lyd said. “Please don't make me go back.”

“It's not my decision. If the others have accepted you, then that is the final say.” He turned his gaze on Breithart. “Interesting. Why isn't-?”

Breithart quickly genuflected. “Please, Wizard Gilghest, give us your blessing and impart your wisdom to help us achieve our goals.”

“Blessing, yes.” He raised his staff in his left hand and his right hand in benediction. “O Great Segendo, bless these adventurers as they seek to vanquish the Dark Lord. May they be successful in their path, may they find the best quests to complete, and may they not wipe. Next gen.”

“Next gen,” they murmured, heads bowed.

“Now, let's see where you're at. Our benign bovine buddy here is only level three. He'll need to be higher if he's going to tackle Roquefort in Metraft.”

“We were just about to level by questing around here.”

“Ah, excellent, though you may wish to diversify your leveling by taking on a few of your special quests. There's a particularly good one not too far that way.” He used his staff to point northeast of their position.”

“That would backtrack us a little,” Caertonn said, “but I do see a gold marker up ahead.”

“You are on your way to a bright future, then. I will check in with you from time to time to see if you need any help, but I assume you will grow strong and skilled in the months to follow. Take care and good luck.”

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His form shrank to a tiny point and a cloud of purple smoke burst forth. Kinenhael coughed and waved his hand. “I wonder who he buys from.”

“On to our gold quest, then?” Caertonn asked, flipping his viewer on top of his forehead.

“Yes!” Lyd said enthusiastically. He grabbed all the items he'd received and ran off the path in the direction that Caertonn had pointed in.

“Uh,” he said.

“Um, friend Lyd?” Breithart called out. “You shouldn't run off...ah, nuts.”

A level five boar popped out from behind a tree, squealing as he rounded on the minotaur. Lyd stopped and began to walk backwards to his group before the boar pounced, goring him. His health sank to zero and his stats grayed out.

They stared at his corpse for a few moments. “I'm sorry, m'lord. I should have interfered quicker.”

“Now what do we do?” Kinenhael said. “The healer, the one guy who can resurrect, is dead.”

Breithart tapped on his forearm and his armor morphed. A moment later, a thin compartment formed on his back. He reached around and pulled a seven-square spatial spacer from the slot. “I have some Necromancer's Spit that will revive him. Let me clear the area so we can get him back to safety.”

Using Caertonn as a decoy to flush out creatures who would piss themselves at the thought of Breithart, the brute hacked away until there was a sizable radius of the forest without any mobs. For him it took less than a minute. “I could have just set the forest on fire,” Kinenhael called out.

Breithart knelt next to the still-dead minotaur, popped his mouth open, and upended the vial. After a moment Lyd sat up, shaking his head. He smacked his lips. “Tastes like onions.”

“Trivvets is fond of liver and onions,” he said, helping Lyd up.

“Wait. Is that...literally a necromancer's spit?” Kinenhael asked.

“Trivvets gives me a discount based upon some quests I did for him.”

Kinenhael gagged. “Oh, gross! I thought it was one of those fake names for things, like Sphinx's Claws not really be a claw from a sphinx.”

“No, in this instance it is actually the spit of a necromancer.” He turned to Caertonn. “Sir, where precisely is the quest marker?”

“I think it's farther down the road.”

“Then I would suggest we get back to the highway and journey farther east before we enter the woods.”

Caertonn took point with Breithart just behind him. Kine stalled behind with Lyd. “So, how was it?” the elf asked.

“Being dead? I don't think I knew I was until I tasted onion.”

Kinenhael shuddered. “So, it's just darkness?”

“Yes, I think. I don't remember anything.” His ears twitched. “I'm sorry I got myself killed. I'm not sure why that boar came after me.”

“It was two levels higher than you. Mobs and mooks always prey on weaker adventurers.”

“But, I haven't ever been attacked by a boar.”

“Once you become an adventurer, you are level one and open yourself up a world of hurt. Before then you were just a regular guy, or regular cow. And your village also had some of those blue bricks you see in the road. They ward away mobs.”

“They don't,” Breithart said.

“What? Yes, they do. The have special powers that make it so nothing attacks you while you're on the road.”

“I've heard that as well,” Caertonn said.

“No, the blue bricks are to denote that this is a road for levels one through ten. On either side are blue lands with creatures of the same level, until you hit a green path. Then, those lands on the other side are for levels eleven to twenty until you reach the yellow road, and so forth until you reach the red road. Outside the red road is everything imaginable.”

“So, what's stopping creatures from attacking us right now?” Kinenhael challenged.

“Do you know what Kazlo's Sticks are?” Breithart asked.

“They're a combination-level engineering device that leeches small amounts of health or mana from you, stores it, then releases it when you need it. Haven't quite got to it, yet.”

“They also collect spirit. Every so often you will see them on routes like this one, usually in lampposts or near campsites. They leech a little bit of spirit from every traveler that passes by on this road, which are often high level patrols of guards. Whenever they get full, they will pulse their stores out, which confuses the animals into thinking there are higher level people near by.”

“We're now perpendicular to the marker,” Caertonn said. And sure enough, there was a break in the fencing and a path off the main route.

“Can you see any additional information about it, m'lord?”

“It is called...” He squinted. “'The Classy Gnoll', and it's a level twelve quest.”

“Level twelve? Seems a bit high for a level seven to take on. Fear not, m'lord, I will protect you.”

Breithart led the group up a short, forested hill. There were two large boulders on either side of the path.

“Wait,” Caertonn said. “It now says...'Investigate' below the title.”

“Let's see what there is to investigate. Be on your guard.”

Beyond the mossy boulders was a place too small to be a village, but too large to be a campsite. There was a cooking fire with a big pot of stew steaming in the middle, the smells of smoke and food cooking familiar and inviting. A small thatched hut stood off to one side and a ragged curtain hung in front a cluster of rocks that formed a cave. Laundry hung from a line and there was a small garden of vegetables ready for harvest.

As they were taking in the area, investigating as some would call it, a dark-haired woman came out from the hut with a bowl. She startled at the sight of them, her eyes widening before she forced a smile. “Hello, how can I help you?”

“We, uh, were...we got lost,” Caertonn said. “Yes, we smelled your campfire and hoped we could find someone to point us in the right direction.”

She placed the bowl on the edge of a large wooden trough filled with water and picked up a basket. Her skirts swirled as she turned and started plucking clothes off the line, filling the basket. “You are adventurers, yes?”

“Um, yes,” he said.

“Aren't you able to see a map of where you are?”

“Ah, well, you see...we got into a pretty bad fight and our viewers got broken.”

“The road isn't far away, back the way you came from.”

“Oh, thank you,” he said brightly. “Actually, we're looking for...Fallamari. That's where I'm from and I wanted to, uh, visit some friends. Well, do you mind if we regroup for a few moments?”

“Fallamari,” she repeated. “That's farming country.”

“Yes, I used to be a farmer. I can tell by the bleating of your sheep that you have Curly Comb overs. You've got some chickens, too, uh Silver Rhodesians?”

“Green Rhodesians,” she said, looking very intently at him. She held his gaze, then darted her eyes to her right. “You should leave, though. The master doesn't like company.”

“The master?”

The curtain swayed and a monstrous being moved out from underneath it. At a quick glance, he looked a lot like Lyd with the same dark brown coloring, wide shoulders, and S-shaped horned that tapered towards the ends. However, Lyd could be said to be attractive in the right corrals while this guy looked like he had caught a bad case of the uglies and was still searching for a cure. On top of bovine features, he had some porcine, ursine, and maybe even some asinine characteristics as well.

“Greetings,” he said, spittle flecking his lips as the word slid out from his mouth. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

“They said they were lost, Magrithk. They wanted to stay for some stew before heading to Fallamari.”

“I suppose that's better than outright attacking me. That's what they usually do. All they see is a gnoll and a human and they assume I have her captured. Right, Priscilla?”

“Right, Magrithk.” She gave that hard smile again and met Caertonn's eyes, flicking hers to her right. “We have a good relationship. He hunts and tends the flock while I take care of our home.”

“Do you mind if we share some food and drink before we head back, then?”

“Not at all!” Magrithk said with a hearty chuckle. “Please. I have some cider from early pressings. It's not jacked, yet, but still refreshing. And our stew! Priscilla is great at foraging and cooking. She can take an old shoe and turn it into a banquet.”

It was at that moment that Caertonn realized they didn't have anything to share. He eyed Breithart, who startled into action, tapping his forearm and pulling out his spatial spacer. “Sir, would you mind helping me gather some things?”

“Um, sure. Kine and Lyd, why don't you get comfortable with our hosts?”

“Okay,” Kine said, annoyed, but willing to be obedient in this cause.

Breithart and Caertonn moved out of sight and earshot to the other side of the boulders. “I don't like this, m'lord. There should be some clear objective to our quest.”

“It still says 'investigate'. Are we supposed to find something?”

“Perhaps it meant to investigate the area to find the gnoll and to kill him.”

“He seems like a good man-creature-person-thing. They seem to have a good relationship.”

“There were rumors back in Zelma of someone, or thing, stealing young women and eating them.”

“Did you know any of them, personally?”

“No, these were from other places, nearby villages. No one went missing from Zelma that I know.”

“Could be a rumor or something else stealing them, then. I don't see an issue with a human woman and a gnoll living together. Maybe they're lovers?”

“Detestable. I don't like it.”

“Doesn't matter what our opinion is, it's what they want. They're breaking no laws. Let's go back and sit and chat for a little while longer. If you spot something, talk with me. But, if things seem on the up-and-up, we'll leave them in peace.”

“By your word, m'lord.”

Breithart opened his spatial spacer and pulled another spatial spacer out of a compartment. “You can do that?” Caertonn asked.

“Usually, no, but I used my second ultra diamond to work on stasis fields in equipment, like spatial spacers. I have several empty spacers if you'd like an upgrade, m'lord.”

“Oh, very much so. I have a four-square Kinenhael made. It's nice, but it has limitations. I'll bug you later for one when we're camping.”

“Very good, sir. What should we bring? I have several desserts, fruit, drink, appetizers, entrees, pates, cheese platters, canapes, cocktails, and amuse-bouches.”

“Um, do you have any cookies?”

The two returned to the campfire. Lyd was laughing at a joke Magrithk had told. There was a blunt in Kinenhael's hand, and by the slump in his shoulders, he was already as blitzed as a quarterback at the goal line. “Everything all right?” the gnoll asked.

“Wonderful. We had to hunt around , but we found cookies and eclairs and some, uh, what were those called again?”

“Petit fours,” Breithart answered.

“Petit fours! They're tiny cakes!”

Kinenhael stirred from his daze. “Cake!” he said, taking three from the plate

Caertonn sat to the left of Priscilla and the right of Breithart, who placed his hands on his knees. Occasionally he would take a cookie or a little bit of cider and drop it down a slit in his helm. Apparently he was actually consuming the meal because he would occasionally let out a belch, then excuse himself.

Magrithk told a rather long story about how he had rescued Priscilla years ago from a roving band of thieves (which they learned hadn't been the Greedy Guild, since Kinenhael asked). Priscilla listened and added nothing, though she did occasionally catch Caertonn's eye and look right. He realized after the fourth time she did that action that perhaps it wasn't a nervous tick.

“I'll be right back,” he said, standing. “Too much cider.”

“Do you need assistance, sir?” Breithart asked.

He considered this. “Uh, no, I think I can take a piss by myself.”

“Very good, sir.”

Caertonn followed the path to the other side of Magrithk's cave, wondering what that woman wanted him to see. The rocks were granite, mossy, with no graffiti involving summoning demons or calling in loans. The path wound around the cave and led to the pen with farm animals. In the middle was a compost pile with a similar box set up for offal and trash. He wondered if this had been Priscilla's idea or Magrithk's.

“Everything okay back there?” the gnoll asked.

“Fine, just, uh, shy about it.”

He held his nose and looked closer inside the second box, seeing only bones from the sheep on top. He shrugged and returned to the group. Perhaps the quest was to investigate and to leave them be, a lesson in not judging a book by its cover.

Priscilla looked up hopefully at his return, then her face clouded as he sat next to her. Lyd and Magrithk were comparing notes about being not human and the funny things humans did. Kinenhael was giggling his head off at the exchange.

Caertonn could tell their welcome was wearing out and that they needed to be back on the road to make it to the next village. He hadn't slept in a decent bed since his house burned down two years prior. He was looking forward to finding a village with an inn.

He ate one last cookie and wiped the crumbs on his pant legs. He stopped, looking down at his hands, making the gesture again from his waist to his knees. His eyes narrowed.

Here he had a decision to make. He felt sure he had just made a discovery, but how sure? Was it worth the death of a creature who might be kindhearted? He looked over to Priscilla once more and she turned her head away from Magrithk, mouthing just one word: “Please.”

“Breithart, kill him!” Caertonn said.

The brute was fast, but not as fast as the gnoll, who grabbed Kine by his neck and pulled him in front. “Awrk,” the elf said, still kind of out of it by sobering quickly.

“How dare you?” the gnoll asked. “You sit at my fire, eat my food and drink my cider, and then you attack me. Why?”

“Because you're the one who's been stealing those women from the neighboring villages.”

“And what proof do you have, huh?” Magrithk said, drool spilling from his mouth onto Kine's shoulders.

“Those bones you have in your garbage are too long to be from a sheep. Those are human femurs.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He wasn't, but it was too late to be indecisive. “I'm a farmer. I've butchered enough sheep to know the length of their bones.”

“You haven't seen my sheep. Perhaps mine are giant.”

His eyes flicked towards the pen, where he could only hear the bleating. Once more, he looked at Priscilla, who made no noise, only gave the same fearful look.

Suddenly, Magrithk yelled and let go of Kinenhael. He looked at Lyd, who had jammed his now broken wand into the gnoll's side. “You don't eat humans!” Lyd said sternly.

Breithart took the opportunity to shift his weapon into a spear and throw it at the gnoll. The aim was true, gutting Magrithk and sending him back into his cave. The brute dashed past the stunned elf and jabbed the spear twice more, twisting it before pulling it out of the gnoll's belly. “Mother of bod,” Breithart swore. “This place is filled with human skulls.”

Caertonn moved to check, but he heard a sob from Priscilla. “Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side.

“Thank you,” she said from behind her hands. “He steals a new girl every few months and eats the old one in front of her.”

“Geez,” he said. “I'm so sorry.”

She wiped her tears with the heel of her hand. “He always said that if I ever told anyone, he'd raid my village and steal my family and...” She heaved breaths quickly.

“It's okay, he's dead now. We can bring you home.”

“Thank you.”

“Pack what you need.”

“Nothing,” she said. “I want nothing from here.”

The gnoll had some provisions, weapons, and over one hundred silver in his cave that they split evenly amongst the group. Priscilla held on to Caertonn's arm even on the main highway to Metraft.

“Lyd, why did you poke him?” he asked. “You seemed like you were friends with him.”

“You said he was bad,” he answered, his ears twitching only once.

“But, what if I was wrong?”

“You weren't, though. I knew you weren't.”

He let it go, but still wondered about his judgment. He would have felt awful if he had killed an innocent gnoll. He would have also failed the quest. He had been right this time, leveling up from the experience, but what about next time?

Starta, Priscilla's village, was only two miles north of the road. They received quite a welcome from villagers grateful to see Priscilla again. They were put up in the nicest rooms in the inn and given plenty to drink in the tavern, especially when they heard Breithart was the man behind the suit of armor.

“You're quite famous,” Caertonn remarked, sipping his frothy beer. He'd never grown a taste for the libation, so he just sipped it to seem grateful.

“I hope you don't feel upset, m'lord, but I have adventured with other people before you. But, it was only to gain experience! I swear that my loyalties are true to you.”

Caertonn laughed. “It's okay, Breithart. I'm tired and I'm going to head to bed, but I want you to know you did well today.”

“Thank you, sir. Will you need me to stand guard at your door tonight?”

“No, I think we'll be fine.”