The cheese festival loomed but three weeks away by this point, and I spent most of my time taking on Gold and Platinum rated jobs. To get an estate of the size we would need for The Boys, as we call the hydra collectively, would require a great deal more in funds than what I had available as spendable currency. I ended up taking the most lucrative jobs at full value, with no payment going to my hoard, and such seemingly whimsical inconsistencies in my contracts caused lingering vexation to more than one accountant. I was in a race against time, for The Boys were growing fast, and I knew they would soon outgrow what space I could provide in the dorms. And certainly, the landlord of the dorms greatly appreciated my intent to move out, as he did not enjoy the constant need to repair bite marks that would mysteriously appear in the woodwork and furnishing.
I would like to say that I spent all my newfound Experience Points on wise choices, and indeed I tried to, but I couldn't help but splurge now and then on Skills related to handling and enhancing pets. For instance, I had unlocked an Ability to summon my pets from anywhere, but the rough math on it always felt wrong as it appeared to be three times more expensive than it should have been. Perhaps each head of the hydra counts separately since they each have their own personality. Not that I ever needed to use it, as The Boys were always with Chooka when I was out of town, and I otherwise spent much of my free time training and experimenting with them and new Skills. I did always keep some Experience Points in reserve, for some Skills would only prove useful in specific situations, and I wanted that flexibility should the need arise.
The Boys started out with scales of a sky blue, but over time, they shifted darker and darker, passing navy blue and approaching a point that I could not distinguish between it and black unless the light shone just right. They molted several times, which was a rather fascinating process to watch. They would squirm and writhe and cooperate to carefully bite each other out of the old skin, which promptly became a welcome snack. They ate just about anything you fed them, assuming one offered foods they actually liked, as each had their own preferences. I know not how their stomach could hold such quantities, as most people in the guildhall enjoyed tossing snacks their way. I had theories, after comparing the size and frequency of their leavings in relation to food intake, that there must be a pocket dimension connected to their body. That would certainly help explain temporary heads at times of decapitation.
Outside of The Boys, the only up close and personal experience I had with a hydra was from their mother, so I was no authority on the finer points of hydra behavior, but The Boys seemed to possess supernatural intelligence compared to their kind. I swear they could actually understand what I said, for at times they followed along with uncanny accuracy to my instructions. They learned commands typically on the first try and were rather obedient, well, at least to me, and somewhat less so to Chooka. For her part, I did take Skills to help ensure they would follow commands of trusted allies, and that did improve their behavior dramatically as far as Chooka was concerned. They started a small fire that we quickly put out when they got spooked by some sort of overly playful dog-weasel like pet that another Adventurer had at the guildhall, and that being our first introduction to their breath Ability, we took it with a fair amount of shock. No injuries were inflicted that could not be healed with some trusty spells by skilled individuals in the room, but everyone gained a new level of respect for how to handle The Boys.
I experienced the privilege of witnessing Chooka in her element. She is a master when it comes to paperwork, rules, and navigating bureaucratic systems. Fired up by the chance for a new home with her lover and favorite pet-children, she found all the ducks she needed and put them in a row without me offering much assistance. Not that she needed it, and in her state, I think she would have trampled me if I had tried. She found the perfect estate for us, but the owner was unwilling to part at mere market value, hence my long hours spent hunting everything with a sizable price on its head. The estate in question was located on the edge of the district for such finer dwellings, which was on the north side of town, and it contained a generously large pond and what we imagined would be ample space for a hydra to walk about and exercise. Perhaps more importantly, the fence around it stood at least tall and sturdy enough to keep The Boys penned in, although I felt confident they could still smash or melt their way through it if sufficiently motivated.
I don’t walk them on a leash, in part because there were no specialty stores that catered to selling hydra harnesses and the ilk, and in part because no one had thought to make or enforce any laws related to it. The Boys, always eager to tag along, followed me pretty much anywhere in town, which became quite the spectacle to the local populace. As The Boys grew, the number of contenders that challenged me to duels declined drastically, and I came to conclude that most people do not fancy the idea of tangoing with a hydra that stands a little taller than a man. Many a soul found themselves enlightened rather suddenly such that they needed to change their travel itineraries at the mere presence of The Boys, the ultimate result being that their paths did not converge, but surprisingly, some small children will run right up to them. I am happy to report that no injuries were sustained after the fire fiasco, and so most people eventually relaxed as the sight of just me and The Boys became commonplace.
A small lump appeared where the necks converged on The Boys, but the experts assured me that no medical attention would be required, and that soon I could expect another head to sprout forth. I remained unsure if that would require more food, and at the rate they ate, grew larger as a whole, and presumably gained more heads, I calculated I would be bankrupt before winter. I jest, for I took a Skill that would allow me to keep them suspended in an artificially smaller state, for which at any point I could toggle them between that and their true size. I kept them small for the sake of the general populace not panicking and causing a riot, as big giant monsters hopping around downtown was generally frowned upon.
A week before the festival, high-paying jobs for creature harvesting, especially for meat and other parts that could be used in culinary delicacies, cropped up everywhere. Griffin eggs, wyvern rumps, ooze jelly (but only the black ones that live in swamps), giant snake spare ribs, and other creatures I have not heard of before became hot-ticket items. I made more coin that week than the previous two combined, and by the eve of the festival, I had raised the required funds for real estate acquisition. This pleased Chooka, and she expressed her gratitude with intimate enthusiasm at every opportunity. Not to say that I felt superior by being the breadwinner, for no amount of wealth could have helped me solve the mysteries that she navigated with practiced ease. We had a partnership, and I truly feel that we both contributed evenly.
However, in terms of raw power, I had eclipsed Chooka ages ago. She could hold her own in a fight, and at times had too, as a few rowdy patrons of the guildhall had the (presumed) displeasure of experiencing when they found themselves on the ass-end of an ass kicking, free of charge, by her swift application of conflict resolution. Most of my power could only be brought to bear as a dragon, either for my ability to even use it or for intensity, but I felt confident enough that I could hold my own against most Platinum Adventurers. All the better, for the grand finale of the festival would be that formal duel, in the arena, with the whole city in attendance.
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The festival itself was held annually, but only once every five years in the city of Berkerin, as it rotated between sister cities. Chooka filled me in on some of the finer details, but with herself and everyone else being fairly familiar with it, she found it difficult to recall what felt blatantly obvious to her. I knew to expect many actors, with different and seemingly impromptu cheese thievery and heroic recovery antics being common occurrences. Shenaniganry and general tomfoolery were staples of entertainment, along with contests, toys, games, gambling, and any venture one could imagine to make a coin. All manner of tourists arrived seemingly by the wagonful, and spare rooms at inns and taverns went for a premium. I had been told that the best time to book was two years in advance, and upon seeing the surrounding countryside seemingly flooded with various camps, I did not doubt the truth to such hearsay.
The mouse-people, miccen, and the rat-people, riccen, seemed to be the dominant races amongst the tourists, and indeed the primary contributors to all activities related to the celebration. Everyone accepted it as completely normal that cheese found itself as the center of the culture and religion of those two cousin races, but given my memories and stories of past lives, I found it all too comical and cliché. I could not expect others to share my point of view, for to them, this has always been the way of things, and so it did open my eyes to how perhaps not all meaning in life was universal.
Miccen were generally inclined to being straightforward and honest once you parsed through their tall tales. They came up to maybe my waist, were generally peaceful, and were usually quite neighborly in helping strangers with small problems. By contrast, the riccen stood at least a head taller, had stockier but hunched builds, and were suspected to be behind more than a few crimes, as they generally dressed and behaved in a shady manner. Oddly, crimes amongst themselves or in relation to the miccen either went completely unreported and unobserved or it did not exist, and I myself had witnessed them all behaving almost conspiratorially in the degree to which they cooperated. I watched one riccen steal a coin purse from an unsuspecting orc, only to return a dropped sash of fancy design to a miccen who appeared to be a stranger to said thief. Perhaps there was something to be learned here, and so I spent more leisure time at night following them around to observe. This new hobby was in part because I only needed about two hours of sleep thanks to a heavy investment in such luxury, but mostly I wanted to learn how this culture worked.
One night I followed a riccen footpad to a warehouse out on the edge of town in a non-residential district. I jumped from rooftop to rooftop, using Skills to silence my steps and to summon shadows to veil my presence. Not that I was invisible by any means, but in such unlit areas, I may as well have been. A whole pack of them would come and go, with one bigger and tougher-looking boss taking their finds, reviewing it, and adding it to a pile. As I lurked in the rafters, I witnessed a pattern I did not expect of such a vocation. He never struck them, or talked down to them, or delivered any sort of punishment, even to those who came back empty-handed. He was ever positive and reinforcing with his praise, and the younger ones appreciated such affirmation with appetite bordering on addiction. At times, I saw him give demonstrations for how to trip someone bigger than oneself, lift a lid without making a sound, pinch a necklace off someone with only one hand, and other skills needed for larceny. Older riccen practiced with younger ones, with the older ones often playing the role of the victim.
That night, I only saw food, jewelry, and money brought back. I never detected any contraband or drugs, and I wondered if their culture had rules about that or what was appropriate to steal. Females usually played the role of being a distraction, lookout, or backup, while males tended to do the heavy lifting and actual theft, at least as far as I had witnessed on the street and here where they trained. Subtle though it was, I noticed the females made the smallest of gestures with their hands, and while their mouths barely moved, their throats and whiskers suggested some subvocal incantations. Perhaps the females had ways to cast spells to aid the heist, but I could not deduce what effects they had, if any. Such exposure to what must have been private undertakings for their people lit a fire within me to understand the peoples of this world, a fire that yet burns within me still all these ages later.
The miccen were far more tame in their hobbies and craft, favoring skilled artisanry, with whole families working together in some form of cottage industry. I learned a thing or two from them, as they were very open to teaching anyone with a passion for enlightenment. The whole lot of them chat seemingly nonstop, participating in two or three conversations at any given time. I cannot say for sure how they really feel about anything, for in one conversation they would judge something as shameful or indecent, and in another they would praise it as ingenious or honorable. I could barely keep track of half the conversations as I studied things like masonry, carpentry, cooking, and other mundane skills I would need as a new homeowner.
The only conclusion I could draw from how they talked is that they were inclined to arbitrarily pick stereotypical personas and talk as such a person would talk. An elder was kind enough to explain to me that part of their voice was too high pitched for most races to hear, and within that tone, one would be able to detect things such as sarcasm, anger, or mirth. Such did explain how they could deliver the raunchiest or oddly specific and outlandish narratives with such deadpan tones. It seemed to be a game to them, to just tell a story that starts out being believable, only for it to devolve past the suspension of disbelief for any normal person. My time with them led me to believe that they may be far craftier and active liars than their riccen cousins, and I could only wonder as to what devious machinations they could concoct and act out.
Most Adventurers and I had worked until the eleventh hour, so to speak, on the eve of the festival, for the wealth to be gained was just too good to pass up. By mandate of the Duke, most businesses would be closed for the festival if they did not directly support it, and certainly, that meant the Adventurer guildhalls would be empty. On that eve of the festival, just before the last bell of the day rang out at midnight, and after turning in a generous portion of meat from lava-centipede-monsters to the merchant listed in the job, I found myself alone as I walked home, passing the guildhall along the way. Shadows stirred where none should be of the business of making them at such an hour, but I pretended not to notice and pressed on. I found an alleyway and ducked into it, and then promptly found my way to a rooftop to observe what had caused such umbral disturbances.
I activated every Ability at my disposal to help prepare me for what could be going on. Spells to mask my presence, to protect me from Divination and Scrying, to enhance my senses so that I could see in the dark, to turn me into the perfect hidden observer. Several minutes passed before my patience yielded rewards, for eight cloaked figures darted from the cover of one shadow to the next as they made their way to the Harvester guildhall. Eight tails betrayed anonymity, for these were none other than riccen padfoots, and with coordination and practiced silence, they formed a ladder from their bodies to scale their way to the second floor of the guildhall. The smallest of the group worked at the window for some time before opening it, and I give credit to their discipline, as none of them complained for how long the deed took. If I were a gambling man, I would have wagered that the shaky legs of the bottom riccen would have given out from such a burden upon his shoulders, but he persevered in silence.
Once inside, the smallest helped the others inside, the ladder of bodies becoming a rope as the bottommost climbed up their form before the next followed suit. Once all eight were safely inside, one closed the window. The whole maneuver took less than a minute, and I would commend them for their surreptitiousness had they gone undiscovered. Curious, and eager to test my Skills, I gave chase and entered through a side door for which I was entrusted with a key. And so a game of cat and mouse would begin, as I was of mind to hunt down the intruders.