The night was too cool for my t-shirt and shorts getup, but I wasn’t in the market for a coat. Haverbark had an eerie look about it at night — the lampposts, possibly running low on Combusto-Gunk, flickered and coughed, leaving a disheartening glow around the alleys and buildings.

Most people were in their homes at this time of night, so the residential areas were at peace. Warm lights, soft music, and pleasant aromas wafted through smidge-open windows.

To get to the cathedral, I had to pass through an industrial area. Business boomed during the day, processing and sharpening and whacking and thumping all sorts of products and specimens, but in this late hour, animals of differing reputations ran through the worksites, looking for scraps.

The clop of my shoes on the cobbles rang out through the tin sheds, and at one point I dropped my Ravenous Rendar tome on the cold pavement, and the flurry of birds exiting the nearby trees startled me. I wasn’t usually a jumpy bloke, but the foreign sounds, sights and smells of this world kept me on edge — I couldn’t be sure if it was just birds flitting around, or some kind of spell that would send a thousand tiny projectiles at me.

The hustle and bustle picked up as I rounded the bend to the miraculous scene of candles illuminating the cathedral windows. The stained-glass panes cast a kaleidoscope of color out onto the street, a stark disparity from the gloom I’d slogged through to get here.

Groups of people from all walks of life lined up outside the doors, many more than I expected.

Midnight Mass?

Some were dressed in uniforms, and the largest such group was Granton’s paupers that I’d seen last time. Their drab brown cowls and tattered robes were more likely just their day clothes rather than any kind of uniform.

I pushed through the crowd — it didn’t seem like there was a line to get in, or at least no one questioned me as I went up the steps and slipped in the door. Straight away, I identified Church Man. He sat in the same pew as last time, off in the corner by himself. I went to speak with him before thinking better of it — he was deep in thought.

A familiar voice called from the front of the church.

“Aha! My young pupil! I thought we discussed a week’s break between tests, did we not? You’ll have to remind me of your name, I admit I have met many new people this week.”

Granton Roolever stood on a raised platform near a room resembling a confession chamber. He was resplendent in a yellow smock with flower garlands over each shoulder, and shoes pointy enough to pick out earwax.

A bit gaudy for church, in my opinion, but when you’re leading a very profitable prayer-ring, I suppose that’s what you do.

“Granton, hello! I wanted to come back tonight; I think I’m ready for the test already. And I’m Marcus, I probably forgot to mention it last time.”

“Very good, Marcus! I appreciate a keen student. You’re lucky you caught me tonight — I was to be out of town for the next few days on some business.”

“Oh, right! What kind of business?”

Adam might’ve gone off at me for diving in too fast, but I thought it was perfect. Young fella like me, curious mind, off-the-cuff question that Granton basically set me up for. He hopped down from the platform and strode toward me. There was something off about his walk, as though his head didn’t move and he kind of floated at me.

“Hmmm, I think I best not say just now. The walls have ears, and the dozens of people here have eyes! That’s how the saying goes, I think. But if you wish to be tested, that is absolutely fine by me — we’re running short tonight by two or so.”

“Great. And am I right in thinking I only had to study up on Rendar?”

“Rendar, God of Knowledge and mascarpone miscreant! Yes, that’s correct. I see you picked up Ravenous Rendar? Quite a page-turner, is it not?”

“It is, though I think the author’s suggestions are a bit off at times — he seems to break some of his own rules.”

Granton held out his hands and I handed the book to him. He flicked through without checking the glossary, obviously familiar with the contents.

“I agree. I assume you are talking about this?” He spun the book and pointed at a paragraph. “The suggestion of deep-fried radish and aioli as an occasional treat at the end of a rainy month?”

“Exactly. I think something subtle would be more palatable for him — just some dry crackers with a hardy cheese and some salami, perhaps.”

Granton’s eyes shone like he was close to tears. He placed the book on a pew and drew me into a bear hug. He smelled of eucalyptus, and his hand crept strangely close to my butt.

“Ah! What a beautiful mind, absolutely stunning! I have no doubt you’ll pass my test, but we should do it nonetheless, just a precaution.”

I nodded, and he launched into the exam with a new voice like that of a circus ringmaster.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Fourth day of the week, high humidity, average of twenty-six degrees Celsius, midnight snack?”

“Cornichons.”

“Correct! Second day of the week, eleventh month, average of eighty-seven degrees Fahrenheit, breakfast?”

It took me a while to convert from Fahrenheit, but living in both Australia and America made it do-able.

“Hmmm, something cool, but a bit acidic. Maybe a spring salad with balsamic vinegar dressing?”

“Marvelous! I’ll give you one last toughie. Twentieth day of the third month, constant thunderstorms for three of the last five days, thirty-seven-degrees Fahrenheit, lunch time and you accidentally just offered him blueberries.”

“That’s a trick question. Rendar doesn’t eat when it’s that cold. Offering him anything would result in punishment.”

Now he really did cry.

“Fantastic! I can’t believe how fast you’ve learnt; you really are a natural. Let’s get you going tonight if you have time — this lovely group over here is mine, and you’ll be heading up my Rendar division, though you don’t have any competition just yet.”

He placed a hand on my back and guided me over to his bedraggled employees. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that each had a colored armband tied to their left arms. Granton handed me a blue one, then yanked it back and fastened it himself, just above my bicep.

“Blue for Rendar, red for Talthen, and pink for Melie. You’ll notice that most folks have the red band — Talthen is the least fussy eater, and I happen to be rather devoted to increasing my Combat ability.”

Sure enough, I was the only person with a blue armband. Whether that meant Rendar was extremely picky, or if Granton just didn’t care much for Knowledge, I wasn’t sure. For now, I would just do my job and earn his good graces.

“Granton, I’ve had a look into the Knowledge skill tree on my Navigator — is there any specific skill you’d like me to pray for?”

“Nope! Anything and everything. I need to master all of them throughout my time, so may as well let fate make the decisions — or Rendar. Your rate will be four hundred dura a night. Toodaloo now!”

I didn’t have the chance to negotiate my wage. It was difficult to know whether four hundred dura was a lot — it certainly wasn’t that much compared to Granton’s eighty thousand dura fee to the Ripping Warriors, but perhaps that was payment for defeating an extremely dangerous boss.

I’d have to check how much food I could buy with my pay. If it was a day’s worth, then I was happy.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Only a week ago I would’ve laughed at any night’s work that didn’t pay at least a couple grand. Now I was nabbing peaches from the break room and rationing out my biscuits.

I sat in my pew, considered what I would serve up to Rendar tonight, then began praying. Halfway through offering up a rump steak cooked well-done — blasphemy — I realized that I had no idea how to pray on Granton’s behalf. I looked around at my new coworkers, but they weren’t doing anything different to what I was. They didn’t hold some magic orb, and they didn’t chant Granton’s name at the start of each prayer. Nothin’.

Just as I reached out to poke the man next to me, my Navigator buzzed. It felt different this time, like a quick jab deep in my muscle. If I’d been otherwise occupied, I might’ve mistaken it as a random spasm or cramp.

I waved across the screen and noticed a new icon on the top left of the device. It was displayed as a checklist with a little pencil next to it, and it read, ‘Permissions’.

Clicking into it, I had a ‘Permission Granted’ notification from Granton, accompanied by a small message.

“Apologies, Marcus. I almost forgot! Please accept this request, then whenever you want to pray for me (that sounds funny, doesn’t it?) just activate the button in the Permissions screen. Enjoy!”

Feeling like I was installing malware on my Navigator, I clicked the ‘Allow’ button. Immediately, the UI changed to the ‘Current Permissions’ screen, where I selected Granton and activated the effect.

Sure enough, the next time I prayed, not a single skill in my Knowledge tree moved. I was boosting Granton’s Knowledge in exchange for four hundred dura a night.

This better be worth it. Four hundred better have me eating oysters out of their shells every night this week.

Of course, I knew I wouldn’t be so fortunate. For one, Haverbark was not a coastal town, and secondly, those around me wouldn’t be dressed the way they were if four hundred dura was a livable wage. I had to just pretend I was doing this for the sake of the GTA — a good cause.

I’d like to say that the rest of my night was a fun-filled extravaganza where Rendar came down from Deity-heaven and thanked me profusely for my efforts, but literally nothing else happened until dawn. When it ticked past midnight, I changed my meal selection to be something a little more breakfasty.

Granton’s employees popped in and out throughout the night, but by around 3:30am, there were only a few of us desperate folk left. I’d gotten about five and a half hours of prayer in, and I’d be back at the GTA at 8:00am.

The hardest part of the job was having to close my eyes to pray, but not fall asleep. Towards the end of the shift, I think I did have a couple micro-naps, as I had a blurry recollection of starting a few prayers, then waking up with my chin on my chest. The crick in my neck was troubling me, so I stood up, shuffled out of the pew, then did some laps.

Church Man was still there, as solemn and unresponsive as he’d been when I came in. His disdain for Granton probably meant he was against the practice of trading prayers for money, which was unfortunate for Granton — Church Man never stopped. I was becoming curious about what tree or specific skill he focused on — given his dedication, he’d have to be a prodigy in his field.

As I passed a grotesque painting showing a ghastly creature choking down the remains of a horse and its rider, I was struck by an idea that had somehow not crossed my mind before.

Granton was going to be out on ‘business’ for three days. If Adam and I wanted to collect any dirt on him, now was our chance. Assuming he lived in Haverbark, I could hop a fence, break a window and rummage to my heart’s content.

Even better was the realization that I didn’t have to worry about half the pesky anti-burglar contraptions that Earth had. No CCTV, burglar alarms, fingerprint dusting, forensic analysis, no nothin’.

On the downside, I wasn’t familiar with this world’s alternate theft prevention techniques. I hadn’t seen anything too wild so far, but if Granton was as powerful and wealthy as had been suggested, I could expect some security measures — Combat-buffed demonic servants, tripwires that trigger giant swinging axes, just the usual.

If I was going to rob his place, I’d have to level up my Domain Thinking skill until my Navigator could buzz no more.

With that, I took one last glance at Church Man — still praying — and wound my way back to the GTA.

Time to prepare.