CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Job Promotions

“Sheathe your hostility, Child of the Forest,” Rowan ordered, “or I may consider shedding your blood on this hallowed ground.”

Blood flowed from the hand that held onto Scarfang’s fist, wrapping around it like a shiny crimson glove. The sight of this strange sorcery caused the wearg’s eyes to widen.

“No…”

Scarfang sniffed in the air.

“This scent…old like Mother’s… Older.”

Bram saw it then, the fear spreading across Scarfang’s face. One born of sudden recognition. It must have been quite strong to weaken the hold of the curse that had turned him savage.

“Blutmädchen…” the red-chested man’s voice was stained with doubt and surprise. “…So, you too have awoken.”

“I never slept,” Rowan answered in an annoyed tone. “I recall every single moment of my imprisonment…and etched into memory the faces of all those who made it possible.”

She let Scarfang go, and he jumped back in a hurry. Then, to Bram’s surprise, the wearg went down on one knee in what the prince assumed was a show of deference for the rebel trickster of legend.

Scarfang lowered his head. “We did not know…”

“How could you — you’re too young to know,” Rowan replied.

“Which begs the question,” Bram thought aloud, “how can he know now?”

“The old tribes of Lotharin’s forests record their histories in oral traditions that could have survived the purge of my existence.” Rowan’s smile twisted ever so slightly. “This child must have been taught the old ways by those who still remember… ‘Tis how he can sense my nature.”

“Oral traditions…your nature,” Bram repeated.

Though he was curious to hear what the wearg knew of Rowan’s legend, or what sort of nature she might have that had turned him so docile, Bram didn’t press either of them for details since he was sticking to his plan of waiting for Rowan to trust him enough with her origin story.

“My tribe…” Scarfang kept his head lowered. “…did any of them survive?”

“Four,” Rowan answered.

“You showed them mercy.”

“I gave them no such courtesy.”

Scarfang looked up bewildered. “Then how…?”

Rowan crossed her arms over her chest. “My role was to protect the mortals in my charge. Not to chase weargs who run away after having lost their nerve.”

“They must have recognized you as I now do,” Scarfang assumed.

“They didn’t run from me.” Rowan glanced over her shoulder to look at Bram. “Hajime, Chris, and Bridget played their roles well. You would be proud of their growth.”

Hearing her words caused the tension in Bram to wash away, and he moved to stand at her side. They stared at each other for a long moment, both gazing favorably at the other, before they were interrupted by Scarfang’s growl.

“You fight with this… prince?” he asked in a tone of disbelief.

Rowan smiled impishly at the wearg. “Will you run with your tail between your legs now that you know what you face, Child of the Forest?”

Scarfang let loose a low growl.

“To show my respect to Blutmädchen,” he rose to his feet, “I will give way…for now.”

His gaze drifted toward Bram.

“To have Blutmädchen at your side…” His beastly gaze gave Bram the once-over. “…You are different from those others who come to our land.”

“There are others besides us in this part of the forest?”

“We attacked you because we thought you were with them…the hunger came after.”

Once again, Scarfang's gaze drifted to Rowan’s face.

“They are here for plunder…” As his gaze drifted back to Bram, irritation flashed in them. It was an emotion quickly replaced by skepticism. “You claim to be here for a different reason…”

“Yes,” Bram insisted.

“Mother is awake. Should your search take you deeper into her embrace, then not even Blutmädchen can protect you from her,” Scarfang warned.

“We search for the sorcerers who woke your mother.” Bram sheathed his sword. “We can’t help but continue onward.”

“Then we will meet again,” Scarfang promised, though it sounded like a threat to Bram’s ears. “And…”

The wearg suddenly looked uncomfortable.

He looked away while saying, “Your performance…it was well done.”

“I know,” Bram grinned.

The wearg stepped back past the fence of sacred pines and was swallowed by the shadows that grew with twilight’s coming.

Bram waited for his presence to vanish completely before he asked, “What do you know about this ‘Mother’ he speaks of?”

Rowan shrugged. “We magical beings don’t all gather in the same book club.”

“You’ve been learning Earth-speak again,” Bram noticed.

“They have such a relaxed way with words compared to us. Our speech can be so…tiring.”

She picked up Bram’s lute.

“About your performance,” she began, to which he quickly replied, “Never. Not that one.”

The thought of Rowan witnessing such an embarrassing dance caused a shiver to climb up Bram’s spine.

She offered him back his lute. “Have you forgotten — I’ve tasted your blood.”

Bram sighed. “Right…and now you know every embarrassing thing I’ve done.”

“I do, and don’t you forget it.” Rowan linked her arm around Bram’s. “Now, let’s call the others over so we might meet this spirit for ourselves. I’ve had enough of this forest.”

Bram glanced at the tree line beyond the fence of sacred pines. They looked eerie to him now. More sinister.

“Yes,” he agreed. “This quest’s taken too much time already…”

Much later, after the spoils were harvested from the dead, Bram’s party gathered inside the small clearing of white sage that was protected by the encirclement of blessed pines.

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Bridget, who was standing close to the fence, brushed her fingers against the thick, knotted silver cord tied around the trunk of the young pine near her. “My grandad’s farm outside of Dublin had a tree just like this one…”

“Did it have red needles too?” Hajime asked.

“Now that you mention it, no…but we still called them red pines,” Bridget answered.

“Why?” Hajime followed up.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask the Irish.” Bridget had a pensive expression on her face. “But Grandad used to tie a colorful rope around his pine too. Said it would protect us from evil spirits.”

“Your ‘seanathair’ was wise,” Rowan nodded approvingly. “Pines are indeed a symbol of nature’s power of renewal… ‘Tis a blessed tree made even more blessed when cherished properly.”

“Blessed by one of your gods?” Bridget asked.

“The blessings of the gods are fragile and limited compared to the miracle of Mother Nature,” Rowan answered in her usual impish tone. “Her gift is stronger, purer, and not distorted by a god’s ego.”

“I wouldn’t call the gods’ blessings fragile, but I agree that there’s a strength in this grove strong enough to keep dark things at bay.” Ravi sniffed at the sage he’d plucked from the ground. “Assuming your wearg doesn’t return, we should be able to rest here until we’re ready to use the waypoint.”

“He won’t,” Rowan smiled wryly. “Our prince frightened him away.”

Bram sighed, though he didn’t refute her claim. It was better that Ravi wasn’t aware of Rowan’s true strength until they were certain he would join their cause. Because of this misdirection, Ravi gazed at Bram with newfound respect, and the prince didn’t dislike it.

“If we’re staying here for a while…” Bridget pulled up her status. “…I should check my—”

She let out a squeal of delight.

“I’ve leveled up again!”

It wasn’t just the dev team’s lead narrative designer who’d gotten stronger either. Its lead game designer and co-executive producer also managed to raise their levels.

“Sweet Christmas,” Chris grinned, “according to this here Loom, we’re only two levels away from a job promotion.”

“That means another week of risking our lives here…” Hajime cast a nervous glance at the canopy of trees above him. “This forest’s difficulty is too high, Rowan-sama…”

“And it’ll climb much higher when we meet the weargs’ mother,” she reminded him.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, we’ll bring our A-game,” Chris assured her just before he elbowed Hajime lightly on the shoulder. “What’d you get for level three?”

Hajime began reading through his status notifications.

“My magic power’s grown…I think I can learn a new spell.” His brow furrowed the more he read his notifications. “Rowan-sama, the Loom says I can choose a ‘Sorcery Tradition’…”

The other two Aarders’ ears pricked up.

“That’s excellent news.” Rowan gave Hajime an approving smile. “With a proper Sorcery Tradition to focus your training, you would receive special boons and gain proficiency with the sorcerous art you choose to specialize in.”

“Sugoi…but…” Hajime’s brow creased some more. “I only know Elemental Arts…is that my only option then?”

“As your teacher, ‘tis my job to guide you,” Rowan assured him. “Whether it’s to learn the Necromantic, Enchanting, or Transmutation Arts, we shall find the sorcery that suits you best together.”

To be offered a chance to learn such rare sorcery, Bram thought Hajime was fortunate Rowan agreed to mentor him when the otherworlder had asked. It probably helped his case that she believed him to be a dream walker, though the Loom had yet to confirm if he truly possessed this rare trait.

Ravi cleared his throat. “There are also the Divination and Summoning Arts. Those are excellent branches of sorcery too.”

Rowan giggled.

“Worry not, Vice Master…you’ll have plenty of chances to recruit novices for your coven once we’ve properly established our…?” A quizzical look flashed on her face.

“Immigration center,” Bridget offered.

“Yes,” Rowan smiled, “that.”

“That would be wonderful.” Ravi looked quite excited by the possibility of new coven members. “When exactly will this center be completed?”

“After we’re done here,” Bram assured him.

Hajime, Bridget, and Chris had heightened Ravi’s interest in the potential otherworlders brought to Aarde, something Bram hoped would happen when he thought to bring his ‘proof of concept’ along for this adventure.

“I’m curious, will Hajime be unable to learn spells from other arts if he picks a Sorcery Tradition?” Bridget asked.

“There are no limitations in magic. Spells you learn will depend on your aptitude, and only the boons change with your specialty,” Rowan explained.

“Though, ideally, one must have a Sorcery Tradition to earn true mastery in any field of sorcery,” Ravi weighed in.

“Is that the same with squires?” Chris asked.

This time, it was Bram’s turn to explain. “Each of the sorcerous arts possesses sorcery tailored specifically for the combat-oriented or exploration-focused jobs.”

“Though it will take such professions more growth before you can choose a Sorcery Tradition,” Rowan finished Bram’s thought.

“How many job promotions are there?” Chris asked—to which Hajime added, “The players will want variety.”

For an answer, Bridget, who’d overseen cataloging the jobs of Bram’s household, pulled up the Loom’s promotion system so that everyone—including Ravi—could see a few of the divergent paths a beginner could take once they’d achieved a certain amount of growth.

“Your soldiers were nice enough to show off for me,” Bridget began, adding, “The offer of griffins for skills helped too.”

“Capitalism at work,” Bram grinned. “It’s a brave new world.”

Squire Lv.5: [Knight Lv.1], [Fighter Lv.1], [Archer Lv.1], [Rogue Lv.1], [Soldier Lv.1]

“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but Squire’s a job we automatically get if we don’t reach a certain mana threshold.” Bridget cast an envious glance at Hajime. “I’ll need more data from other Earthers to be sure, but I doubt they all need to be dream walkers.”

Arcane Novice Lv.5: [Sorcerer Lv.1], [Cleric Lv.1], [Chemist Lv.1]

“These are the 1st tier job promotions we’ve managed to input into the Loom through copying abilities from members of the prince’s household.” Finished with the first window, Bridget pulled up another. “And these…”

Knight Lv.10: [Chevalier Lv.1], [Knight Captain Lv.1] Fighter Lv.10: [Warrior Lv.1] Archer Lv.10: [Ranger Lv.1] Soldier Lv.10: [Guardian Lv.1]

“…Are the 2nd and…”

Knight Captain Lv.15: [Knight Commander Lv.1] Warrior Lv.15: [Swordsman Lv.1]

“…3rd tier job promotions the Loom inherited thanks to Ser Anthony and the guys he’s personally trained,” Bridget explained further, adding, “Based on my interviews of these experts, 2nd and 3rd tier job promotions will have more requirements beyond gaining levels.”

While Bridget explained possible requirements for advanced job promotions, Bram recalled his shameful task of asking Ser Anthony to share his secrets with the Loom, how he’d dueled the old knight afterward, and the spectacular finish of wielding his sword to cut the world.

It was still vivid in Bram’s mind, as clear as the otherworldly dreams that visited him in his sleep—the sight of a cut on the stone floor so deep it almost seemed like the earth would bleed.

Ser Anthony’s talent differed from Rowan’s but was also quite powerful, and Bram wondered… What if he did more than just replicate Ser Anthony’s Peerless Heart Sword? What if he’d saved the old knight’s status for emulation too?

It doesn’t just have to be Rowan…

This thought sent the gears of his mind to motion, and his gaze drifted to his companions.

While they discussed the possibilities of their growth, Bram wondered if he could add their strength to his. Not now, of course, but eventually, after Chris, Bridget, and Hajime became stronger… Could their growth mean growth for him as well?

It was a heady thought, one that Bram didn’t dare whisper allowed. For it did seem like he was using them in a way they might not be alright with—and even he blanched at the thought of stealing another’s strength.

Ser Anthony’s voice replayed the old knight’s words in Bram’s mind.

“Only a fool would be hesitant to play with the gifts the gods give us…and I didn’t help raise a fool.”

Bram laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it.

The others turned his way.

“Are you alright, Boss?” Chris asked.

Bram waved away Chris’ concern.

“I’m just looking forward to your growth,” he said.

The otherworlders looked embarrassed by his seeming words of encouragement, but only the trickster who could read his emotions guessed the truth of what the prince meant. Their growth was his growth—more literally than perhaps even the Loom intended. And if so, Bram could become conditionally strong…strong enough to bring even the grand sorcerers of the Imperium to their knees.