> “… one of which is incantations. Incantations are verbal descriptions of a spell which enable the caster to visualize it more easily. Since a caster’s ability to picture the desired outcome of a spell is directly tied to their proficiency in spellcasting, incantations are a valuable tool that make magic easier to utilize for the masses and court-mages alike. Common spells, such as the spell of Ignition, have long since had dozens of different incantations developed and shared with the public, while those more dedicated to the study of magic hoard incantations as a goblin would gold. The more powerful and complex a spell is, the more difficult it is to visualize, and thus the more skill it requires to cast. Incantations lessen this burden, making them incredibly valuable tools, and highly profitable to sell to other casters. This has contributed to a long history of conspiracy and espionage among the various…”
— Excerpt from “Magical History,” by the retired Professor Gillian of the Academy of Fuortera.
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“State your name and business, please,” said a sleep-deprived guard. Apparently he was still waiting to be relieved.
“Cain, no surname, returning to Fellgrave after an outing last night.”
“Hm,” he said, “and what was this ‘outing’ you speak of?”
“Mostly meditation,” Cain half-lied, “the walls at the inn are only so soundproof, and the adventurers have been celebrating like it’s their last day to live.”
“Ha, true enough. They’re a rowdy bunch, though I don’t blame them hittin’ the drink after having to put down those horrors yesterday.” He shook his head solemnly. “I saw one of ‘em when I was just a boy, you know? I was playin’ in the woods out back my daddy’s house and this thing just crawls out of the brush… used to be a baby deer, looked like. Those eyes just stare right through you.”
Cain nodded empathetically. He’d seen enough undead to last him a lifetime.
“Well, you go on ahead and get back to wherever you’re needed. Rest assured that if any undead come knocking, I’ll be the first to scream for help.” The guard shot Cain a tired smile and waved him through, making his plate armor clink softly.
“I’ll sleep soundly,” Cain replied as he began to walk out from under the portcullis.
“Oh, by the way!” Called the guard. “You be careful next time you go off meditating. We heard a shrieker awful close to this very gate last night. A couple patrols scoured the fields, but nothing turned up. Bastard could be lurking near here.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said, a sudden pang of worry in his gut. Cain knew that the “shrieker” had probably been him. That wasn’t why he was concerned. What concerns me is that they have a name for that. This world had hive-mind undead. What manner of monster had earned a name like “shrieker?” He debated whether or not he wanted to find out as he made his way onto the pavement of the main road. There were a few less stalls set up by the gate than yesterday; they had likely been set up in anticipation of the adventurers’ return. This time, however, Cain paid more attention to the buildings than the stalls. The structures were primarily made of wood, with the occasional bit of stone brick thrown in. Shingles were made of stained wood in some places, and pigmented stone in others. Some were rectangular tiles, others were pointed scales, and still others were rounded. Other than the remarkable variety of the roofing, there was little of note about the buildings. A modest amount of windows decorated the faces of what Cain assumed were simply houses, while the occasional shop or restaurant featured a good deal more to better showcase their wares.
Cain walked down the street scanning the storefront windows, looking for things he could use. That one displayed a varied collection of exotic bottles; either alcohol or alchemy. He might come back to that later. To his left was what appeared to be a bookstore; an incredibly valuable find, he’d need to do a lot of reading in his future. A few doors down from that was a restaurant of some sort. Less useful, but still appreciated. Several more mundane shops passed him by, but none of them looked like a bank. Before I can get to my actual errands, I need to break these silvers down into some smaller denominations. He wasn’t familiar with the local system of currency, but Cain had gathered that silver was one of the more valuable units of wealth. If he had to guess, it would probably be the denomination above iron, just going off what he’d heard at the auction. If he assumed that metals were valued similarly here to how they were in medieval Europe, the next denomination down would likely be either copper or bronze. That said, the tidbit on runes mentioned mana-conductive material, meaning copper could very well be more valuable here, assuming it conducted mana as well as it did electricity. Well, that’s a matter I can likely put to rest in the bookstore. For now, I should pull someone over and ask for directions to a bank. He scanned the morning traffic for a moment before settling on a human man that looked a couple years older than himself.
“Excuse me, sir?” The man ignored him. Guess I’ll try someone else…
“A moment please, sir?” Nope.
“Ma’am, would you mind giving me directions?” No response… oh. Cain would just talk to someone whose job it was to talk to him.
“Good morning,” greeted Cain.
“Good morning, dear customer,” the fruit stall owner cordially greeted him, “see something you like?”
“I wanted to ask for directions to someplace I can exchange some of my coins for lower denominations. I’m new in town, you see.”
“Ah, of course! Keep going east down the road, and turn left at the second alley past the Adventurer’s Guild. That’ll put you right across from the local bank. You can also get a nice roast from Torvo’s place a few doors down; let the old man know Qalian sent you if you stop by!” The tanned fruit merchant gave him a hearty wink.
“I will,” Cain replied. “Thank you for the help!”
“Anytime, sir, anytime!” He gave Cain a friendly wave.
Cain resumed walking east, giving Qalian the Fruitful a brief wave back. He waded through the morning rush for a few minutes before spotting the silver compass rose that marked the Adventurer’s Guild building. Making his way to the left-hand side of the street, he began looking for offshoots and alleyways as he continued walking. Four buildings later, he found one. Take a left at the second alley. He kept walking. Street vendors parroted their wares and haggled with customers. The people on the street were mostly just going about their business; either shopping for produce or heading to their place of work. Cain paused as he found the second alleyway. He turned and strode across the narrow gap between buildings, being shrouded in shadow for a few moments before his view opened back up. Sure enough, before him stood a wide building with coins embossed in silver on a heavy-looking front door. Two ordinary windows stood on either side of the entrance, although thin black curtains obscured all but silhouettes of the people inside.
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Cain crossed the somewhat narrower street he had arrived at and pushed open the door. It was nearly as heavy as it looked. As it swung open, a quiet waiting room was the first thing he saw. Thinly cushioned seats filled the front half of the room, with nervous-looking humans occupying a few. At the front of the room were several desks made of the same pale oak that Cain had seen in the Flutewood, albeit a bit less dead-looking. Some of the attendants sat at them were sorting small stacks of paperwork, but a few were idle. The seated individuals didn’t seem to be in any particular order, so it seemed there wasn’t any line to contend with. Cain decided to swallow his nerves at interacting with a banker and just walk up to the front desk.
“Good day, sir, how can I help you,” droned the bored-sounding attendant, not even looking up from her papers.
“Good day,” said Cain. “I’m looking to exchange some coins for smaller units, for ease of shopping.”
“Yes, we can do that. Do you have an account or are you a new client?”
“New client.” He tried his best to not audibly swallow.
“Would you like to open an account, then, or will this be a standalone transaction?”
Would he like to open an account? He wouldn’t be staying in Fellgrave forever, so it would only be a temporary measure. That being said, how long would he be staying in Fellgrave?
… Until I know where the fuck I’m supposed to go next. “I’ll open an account.”
“Lovely,” said the banker dryly, “I’ll go get the paperwork.”
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[ Skill Manifested : Serpent’s Tongue (Lesser) ]
Skills that would allow a foreign entity to gauge the entity’s honesty of the same or lower grade are negated. Allows the entity to resist effects that would force the entity to communicate honestly. Allows the entity to throw their voice, making it seem as if they are speaking from a different location. Allows the entity to mimic sounds and voices they have heard before. If the entity is not capable of producing speech or similar effects, implements the ability to do so. Effects scale slightly with obscurity. (1 SL)
[ Ethereal Attribute Manifested : Obscurity ]
The entity’s ability to obscure their presence from others. Interferes with mana sense attributes used to observe your mana. Makes the entity more difficult to scry and identify through magical means. Foreign entities are less prone to feeling watched. (Current Value: 1)
Cain had bullshitted his way through so many legal documents by now that he had actually gained a skill for lying. He’d had to ask the attendant for help every other word, it felt like, and additionally had to make up a story on the spot whenever she started to get suspicious of how little he knew. But, through a series of indirect questions, a handful of improvisation, and an otherworldly amount of patience from Ms. Dersa, Cain was now to the part where he signed on the dotted line.
“Wonderful, now just put your given name and your family name down there and we’ll be golden.”
“Ah, I don’t actually have a family name… will that be a problem?” Cain didn’t want to use that name.
“Uncommon, but not unheard of. You’ll be fine if you just make one up, take a minute if you need.”
“I probably will,” Cain responded sheepishly. “Thank you.”
The employee just shot him a smile and a wave. While she went back to shuffling through a stack of papers, Cain put some thought into his name. It always bothers me when a name doesn’t sound like it fits right. When it was another person’s name, all he could do was inwardly shudder, but this one would be his name. It would likely be far easier to get a new identity here than back home where everything was saved on the internet, but still. What did he want his name to sound like? What did he want it to mean? Well, the meaning of his name would likely be decided by others. The sound… I remember French sounds pretty fancy. To an American, at least. The meaning… what words could he remember from his French classes? There was all of the basic vocabulary. He didn’t feel like being Cain Mapelle. Classroom objects… Cain Chaise was off the tableau. Then there were the random words he picked up from Google Translate out of curiosity. There was impasse, which had been translated from stalemate… conduire from conduct… neither sound like the best material for a name. Suddenly, a word jumped out at his brain. Equaliser. What did that one translate to? The memory teased him. Trying to force it to the front of his mind was like working with his mana, but harder. Or maybe it was working with mana that was like trying to force your brain to work…
Égaliseur. Equaliser. That… sounded fitting for what he intended to do. And easy to make a name out of.
‘I, Cain Égalis, hereby agree to the aforementioned terms and conditions of opening and maintaining an account with the Rezedal Trading Company.’
“Done.” Cain set down the pen.
“Perfect, and what will your principal deposit be?”
“Three silvers.” Of the seven he had left, he counted out three from the pouch at his waist and placed them on the desk.
“Oh,” blinked Ms. Dersa. She clearly hadn’t expected him to have that much on his person. “I believe I understand now why you needed to exchange your coins here. Speaking of which, how much did you need broken down?”
“One silver.”
“Well, fortunately for you, account holders don’t pay a fee on such transactions. Would you like that as sixty irons, or would you like some of that as coppers?”
“Make it fifty-eight irons and some copper.” Who used increments of sixty for currency? Cain offered her another silver from his pouch.
“I’ll have that ready for you in just a moment, sir.” The banker scooped up his contract and deposit and strolled off out of sight.
Really, though! Why sixty, of all numbers? Why not just use a hundred? Or even fifty, since you’re so close to it already. Even seventy-five would work. Sixty? It was just… so arbitrary. Like the imperial system of measurements. Not that Cain was able to unlearn it now that he’d been using it his entire life. Increments of sixty… cold horror dawned on him. In that moment, stood at the front desk of a medieval bank, thinking about units of measurement, all of Cain’s preconceived notions about his world shattered, and the falling glass tore gashes in his understanding of reality. Sixty seconds. There was no reason for anything. It simply was. Sixty minutes. Time was an arbitrary thing. A mere concept by which life sought to understand things far bigger than it. Sixty irons in a silver. What a glorious web of lies. The void crept in through the back of his skull, staring at him. It itches.
[ Skill Refined : Self-Awareness (Middling -> Mighty) ]
The entity is intimately aware of themselves, both inside and out. This skill greatly enhances the entity’s kinesthetic senses or implements them if none are present. This skill also provides significant enhancements to all other existing bodily senses. The entity gains an extra-sensory awareness of their surroundings in a nine-meter radius around themselves, scaling with kinesthetic sense. (3 SL)
[ Mind Attribute Increased : Processing ]
(Current Value: 9 -> 13)
He saw everything. He felt everything. Every sheaf of paper on every desk was constantly within his perception. Every time the man sitting behind him wrinkled his nose or scratched his leg, Cain felt every individual muscle group work to make it happen. Every time the attendant two desks to the right adjusted his glasses. Almost the entire room was within Cain’s sphere of sensation. A lady seated in the chairs to his left yawned suddenly, making him flinch. His hands twitched, tempted to clasp over his ears, as though that would fix anything. Every small movement within his sphere was like a radio tower, constantly transmitting information into his brain. Every step Ms. Dersa took towards him was a shockwave rippling across his senses.
“Here you are, sir. Fifty-eight irons and one-hundred-twenty coppers. Since you’re a new client, it comes with a complimentary enchanted pouch that will make it easier for you to store and carry your coins. Your membership card can also be found inside.”
Cain smiled tensely. “Thanks.”
“Thank you for your business,” she replied, “we hope to see you again soon!”
Cain jerkily turned and walked out the door. Why did people move so much?
‘Are you okay?’
“NO.”