Any Occasion Will Become A Social Occasion Unless Measures Are Taken
“Who's there? Are you monsters? You have to tell me if you're monsters. To conceal that may aggravate the charges against you.” A stern soldier of Pavvu Omme Os, sufficiently elevated in rank to have someone else carry a lantern for him, stood on the grounds with a force of twenty or so drawn up behind him, ready to enter an enigmatic structure which had been glowing up until then. How did those courageous guardians of their countrymen's security feel about being denied an opportunity to exert themselves against a supernatural threat? Probably pretty good, since the big debate was coming up and they would have hated to miss it. At other times they might have been disappointed.
Hewwikke explained the entire incident to the officer, Captain-Inspector Mommi Stippu Takpeddi, whose assistance Civic Quartermaster Ukkip Timga Onsalkamto had requested once he got his breath back. Stippu ordered a subordinate to take down Hewwikke's statement and then those of all the other witnesses. “Not that I disbelieve Hewwikke Satvo Sau. He's a respected member of this community. He does tell his stories though. Consort with fabulists and some of that seeps into you, like a dye tub or something. I've seen it many times.”
The accounts of the others backed up everything Hewwikke said, even though he tried pressuring them to leave parts out so there would be exclusive testimony in the upcoming article. He was thinking of busting Kul Puvva Kampumso down to monster correspondent to write it.
As for the witnesses themselves, they parted with a great many congratulations and mutual wishes for health and good fortune. Millim Takki Atsa summarized the experience in a statement with which all could concur. “I'm glad that ended without any of us coming to lasting harm, though I am sorry Hewwikke's guest house is being seized by the captain-inspector pending an application to the government. We should also be relieved that there turned out to be a sensible explanation behind the incident. We won't be deluded by appealing but misleading explanations of perfectly natural phenomena, thank you for that word, in the future now that we've been through such a tricky case ourselves.”
“You're welcome for the word.” While perhaps he should have left it there, Dirant knew, the recent experience created such a sense of familiarity and camaraderie with his fellow adventurers that concealing his opinion seemed a despicable act. “I question the idea that the explanation for this incident is sensible or, indeed, an explanation. Nothing we discovered made the occurrences tonight anything less than mysterious.”
Takki planted a thoughtful halberd and leaned on it. “I'm not sure what makes you say so. A Summoner began summoning in a distortion zone and all this happened. It's really quite normal.”
Dirant looked to Paummi Ti Poska. “Is it?” The Summoner, the beneficiary of an education in Greater Enloffenkir as it turned out, shook her head.
“That will be cleared up when we run experiments in the distortion zone,” Takki asserted.
“I hope I will be able to return to your beautiful country then to see the results.” With that, Dirant surrendered and opened up another front by asking if Hewwikke employed any Pickers with Edition Freeze.
“I'd better not have anyone like that. The writing world moves fast. I don't know what that ability does, but it sounds contrary to Kekket Ittame philosophy. I'll check later, but don't expect anything.”
While he waited for the results that indeed ended up being nothing, Dirant could do nothing but retire. He did reflect, as he settled in, on what an unusual, XP-rich incident that must have been. “Getting nearly a full level out of that wouldn't be strange,” he thought as he checked his status.
> Ritualist
>
> Priest of Holzd
>
> LV 7 240/1000
>
>
>
> HP 247
>
> Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
>
> Muscle 35 (+1)
>
> Coordination 43 (+4)
>
> Verve 42 (+3)
>
> Sticktoitiveness 55 (+4)
>
> Discernment 68 (+4)
>
> Gumption 25 (+2)
>
> Tit-for-Tat 42 (+1)
>
> Receptivity 87 (+6)
>
> Panache 45 (+3)
>
>
>
> Class Abilities
>
> Ritual Judgment
>
> Ritual Completion
>
> Ritual Memory
>
> Ritual Delay
>
> Divine Guidance (Hunch)
>
> Ritual Humility
>
> General Abilities
>
> Adaban (Fluent)
>
> Heweks (Fluent)
>
> Tabidgeir (Intermediate)
>
> Dvanj (Intermediate)
>
> Yumin (Intermediate)
>
> Desurvyai (Basic)
>
> Saueo (Basic)
>
> Mercantile Fundamentals
>
> Horse Riding (Intermediate)
>
> Class Perception (Divine)
“Ah, some stat improvements, and I don't understand XP even the slightest bit. How reassuring.” Thus reminded that some things in his life stayed the same no matter how many gods and monsters he encountered, Dirant had no trouble falling asleep.
The next day came, and it brought a debate to delight the Ommes and another market period to please Haderslant Rikelta once he learned of it through favorable financial reports. His employees would have been just as pleased not to have one so they could relax and read the sizzling broadsheet articles about what their direct superior had gotten up to the previous evening. As it was, they gathered what information they could while they worked.
“Mr. Dirant, is it true that Mr. Silapobenk is faster with a dagger than he is to detect laxity?”
“It is so. Remember the former if you ache to test the latter.”
“And did he in truth slay so many winged snakes that they now warn their young not to misbehave lest the dreadful Silapobenk come in the night to punish them?”
“That is a grave falsehood. None escaped to tell the others of their fate.”
With such chatter they entertained themselves during their labors. The Ommes intended to entertain themselves in quite another way, judging by their extensive purchases of grape-related products as well as the less common plum-based and strawberry-based varieties the southerners also stocked. The debate was to be held that evening, and several well-to-do out-of-towners wanted to exhibit their generosity by buying up loads of celebratory material for later distribution, enough in some cases that silver bars changed hands.
Likely that would be the biggest market day for Stadeskosken in Pavvu Omme Os, a poorer country than Yean Defiafi by all accounts albeit sufficiently prosperous to put Silapobenk in a congenial mood. He complimented his employees as he ordered them to close up shop and forbade any overtime to prevent go-getters and nose-painters from feeling compelled to volunteer for it. All were free to attend the debate or, more likely, not attend it, whether for language-related reasons or because it was a public debate about stargazing. Some of the Usse-capable employees offered to translate for their fellows, though how the locals would react to some jerks in the corner babbling away in Adaban throughout the event concerned them. Were these debates solemn affairs or rowdy scenes?
“I can question the civic quartermaster about the relevant etiquette,” Silapobenk promised the people who cared. Some had no interest regardless of translation availability and made plans to take in more of Mosso Eksu's attractions. The haunted estate of Hewwikke Satvo Sau, for example, or the legendary restaurant that used a moderate amount of salt. A myth, some said, but others swore to the truth of it.
Dirant Rikelta felt unsure of his plans. Normally he waited for a god or Ritualist on another continent to tell him what to do, but none obliged him. He thought that to himself as a joke, added “ha ha” internally, and immediately began to suspect there was some truth in there that signaled unenviable elements in his character. Not enough Gumption perhaps. Regardless, he was of two minds. He lacked interest in stargazing and in fact had never heard before he arrived there that Mosso Eksu possessed a grand reputation for it. He still doubted that point. On the other hand, he had already appeared in debate-related broadsheet articles and hated to disappoint his new fans, especially the good-looking ones.
While he packed straw into a crate that could no longer be filled by the remaining merchandise, his last task of the day, two Ommes approached with the intention of affecting his plans. “Hello, Mr. Dirant. This is an invitation from Oppo Imlakke Pau,” said Millim Takki Atsa. She viewed debate day as a bigger occasion than a fancy dinner judging by her four silver rings, gold bracelet with amber set in it, and the silk scarf wrapped around her neck. Imlakke's thin silver torque indicated that he agreed. “He reserved a small box in the Hall that is able to fit four people, or two people and an Adaban, and wonders if you are free to attend. What's that?”
Imlakke frowned and aimed a few concerned words at his translator. “Oh?” Takki returned to Dirant. “Apparently I wasn't supposed to include the Adaban crack, but I think it's all right. We get along well enough for a joke or two, don't we?”
“We do, and to prove it I must accept this graceful invitation. That's the best thing for all of us.”
“I really think you're right about that. You have to go in a group when you go to the Hall.” She communicated his acceptance to Imlakke, who shook his hand.