The girl was still asleep by the time we returned to Mitrikov’s Respite. We must have been walking for more than thirty minutes by the time we got back to the inn, and she spent the whole time slumped against the dog’s saddle. The process would have been faster if I had mounted the dog and ridden it back, but that probably would have woken the girl. She must have had a long day, and she deserved a break. Plus, I felt bad about zapping her during the rescue.

Just as the light of the inn crested over the horizon, I noticed a small line of text at the corner of my vision.

New Notifications (2)

Show me the notifications.

A large block of text appeared, blocking my sight. A few years ago, the System had presented me with some notifications while I was in the middle of learning to ride a horse, and I told it to ask before blocking my vision with its text. This was its way of communicating with me in a relatively non-intrusive way.

New [Skill] Acquired, [Miracle]: Thanks to your many years as a devoted priest of Nyx, you have gained her favor. Though your violent acts now prevent you from using healing magic, Nyx will still hear your prayers. With this [Skill], you may offer up a prayer to Nyx once per day, and she will hear it. Every time you use this [Skill], Nyx will do something, though it might not be what you wanted.

Once I was done reading, this long block of text was replaced with another.

New [Skill] Acquired, [Appraisal]: By feeding your mana through an object, you can determine its properties. You can spend one minute to determine a mundane object’s creator and value, or you can spend one hour to learn everything about a magic item.

Since last time I checked, I had gained two more [Skills]. It was strange, since I had only gained one [Skill] before that time: [Triage].

It was my understanding that one gained Skills when they were useful for the [Character] that gained them. I must have gained [Miracle] when I changed my class to mage, and I must have gained [Appraisal] when I got the Ring of Etron. I immediately started circulating my mana through the ring. If the System was telling the truth, I would know everything about the ring within an hour.

Looking at the rear door of the inn, I wondered how the [Miracle] [Skill] worked. To activate the ability, I formed a discrete sentence in my mind.

Nyx, cause Eadric to open that door.

A minute passed, and nothing happened. Well, the [Skill] description did say that I had to “pray” to Nyx. After a moment, I remembered a commonly used prayer to Nyx, and I began to recite it verbally.

“Goddess Nyx, sovereign of all that is good, may thy name be forever lauded in the halls of Elysium, may thine ferric kingdom one day match thine kingdom in Elysium, blessed are thy works, and blessed are thy followers. Goddess Nyx, please make Eadric walk out of that door.” As I had many times before, I recited that prayer like it was a form of meditation.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Gah! I thought your worship of the Pretender God was over! You’re not a Priest anymore. Why are you praying?

I got a new [Skill]. Apparently, I can ask Nyx to do something through prayer.

She’s trying to torture me.

My eyes widened in shock as the door opened. My prayer had been answered. As I looked at who had just opened the door, however, I saw that it was the Innkeeper. Rather, it seemed that my prayer had been half answered. The door was opened, but it wasn’t Eadric who opened it.

The Innkeeper turned her head from side to side to spot people walking down the road. Her eyes locked onto our sad traveling party and the Hellfire spark floating over my shoulder.

“What happened?” the Innkeeper asked once Sherlock pulled up next to the inn’s door. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said truthfully. Beyond spent mana and slightly charred clothing, I had incurred no damage. “Some brigands almost captured her, but I scared them off.” Sighing, I added, “I killed one of them. The other two might still be after her, so she might still be in danger.”

Eadric came running out of the door, an angry expression on his face. “You can’t just go flying off like that! I can’t protect you if you leave the moment you see someone in danger! Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Hilarious. He thinks you’re some kind of Holy Knight that jumped blindly into danger the moment you saw a damsel in distress. He has no idea that you only gave a damn because she’s from the same place as you.

Shut up.

“Sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t think I’d be able to catch up to her if I waited.”

“Okay,” Eadric’s face softened. “Just take it slower next time. We’re stronger together, right?”

“Stronger together, you’re right,” I said truthfully. The problem was that we were much less mobile together. With the [Fly] spell, I could move faster than any horse, and any terrestrial companions would only slow me down.

Eadric and the Innkeeper carried the girl into the inn. I had to assure Sherlock a few times that they were friends before he stopped growling at them. The moment the girl disappeared into the inn, the dog started whimpering quietly and curled up to sleep. The injury to its side was not fatal, but it was clearly painful.

I felt the weight of the healing potion sitting in my pocket. It would be monumentally stupid to spend a magic potion worth a year’s salary on healing a dog’s minor injury. I was just about to turn back to the inn when the dog looked into my eyes. I could see no malice in his big eyes, and I knew that he had never committed an act of malice in his life. He could do no evil.

With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and withdrew a healing potion. Such a loyal soldier did not deserve to spend the night in the stables, alone and in pain, after such a hard-fought battle.

What are you doing?

“Hey there, Sherlock, you need to drink this. It will make you feel better,” I said to the dog.

Are you seriously doing this? It’s a dog!

The people of my world have a particular fondness for canines, what can I say?

You are aware that this is a massive waste of money, right?

Sherlock held his head back and allowed me to essentially dump the healing potion down his throat. The liquid in a healing potion had enough volume to fill a human’s mouth. If Sherlock were to drink it from a bowl, half of it would probably splatter everywhere.

Fool.

A moment passed, and Sherlock’s pained expression turned to one of confusion. He moved his head to the spot where he had been injured just a moment before and found that the injury was gone. For the first time since I had met the dog, his massive tail started wagging, thumping heavily against the floor.

“I’ll get you some food,” I said, petting Sherlock on his head.

Ten gold poorer, I walked back into the inn.