1.22 Interlude Two: Milnedotter part Two

Lord Jacque FitzVoluer von Tracassin, second Baron Briarwood had much in common with Milly. He too was raised by the servants of a professional thief without a mother’s influence. He was denied a mother by imprisonment not death, but the end result was the same. His two primary sources of knowledge about Classes were the family’s Confessor, Father Timothy, and his nurse, Goody Hester. He too was unprepared when during Confirmation he was offered multiple choices, mostly Rogue options. He too choose an unknown Class, one he hoped would allow him to attend the Imperial Academy and leave this backwater barony. So he became an Accountant, a rare Scholar Evolution.

There were certainly differences. He had the misfortune of being the second Baron of a new Barony. Jack the Thief, his father, had earned Authority by Virtue of Merit. Slaying the Ogre that had been terrorising the Region's Aristocracy for years, had seen the Lowborn scroundral elevated to the Ranks of Titled Nobility. He had established the Hereditary Legacies that would grow the new family’s fortune. Still, Rogues were the least prestigious Class among Highborn, so the fifteen year old Jacque choose a Legacy Class inherited from his maternal grandfather, as well as changing his name to the Old Tongue. Jacque FitzVoluer certainly sounded better than Jack Thiefson.

The Great Houses of Nobility take great care in collecting the proper Qualifications for future generations. New Houses are often stuck with only the founder’s Legacies. Jack had done well by his son in the choice of mother.

Everyone knows that Ogres are filthy, disgusting, gluttonous humanoids, little more than beasts really, who crave sentient flesh. The sweet, succulent veal of infants and young children is a particular delicacy. The mutant offspring of shapeshifted Jotun and their depraved human lovers, Ogres belonged to the wastes and hinterlands. That one of the hideous, multifarious, things would settle in a Rural Zone like some Country Squire, even if it was married to a Princess, (barely as she was the fourth daughter of a minor distaff branch of the least powerful of the three Imperial Houses) was simply intolerable. Everytime a child went missing, everyone knew what had happened to it. The Church and County were powerless, for this, this Grigrigredinmenufretin was far worse than just being a monstrous humanoid who ate children. The creature's wickedness knew no bounds, it was a Professional Moneylender, sanctioned by the Imperial Bank.

Every Guildmaster, Entitled Noble , and Aristocratic Scion, who placed their Mark in the fiends Ledger was bound by the System to repay the debt. With interest! Even worse, they were all honour bound to defend and protect the grotesque Giantkin until it had been repaid, or risk Class Depletion. They could not even risk subcontracting to an Adventurer or risk Level Loss. When Jack the Thief killed the Loan Shark, and more importantly Swore a Vow to the System Gods that he had burned the Ledger of Debt and that they were free, not only was the bounty on his head forgiven but a new barony was created to reward the illustrious hero. They even graciously accepted his marriage to the monstrousity’s youngest daughter, who while beautiful enough to bed was far too problematic to actually marry. Especially since a Lowborn had already had his way with her.

The fact that Grigrigredinmenufretin, Jotun being an inhumanly awkward tongue for civilised speakers, was a Tier Two High Accountant, who preferred gold to flesh was lost to his many detractors. As was the fact that Jack himself had reached the Second Tier of Rogue, and had the {FalseOath} Grifter Class Feature that gave him one single falsely sworn oath with no negative consequences. No one, not even Jack gave a second thought to the sole teenager remaining.

Lord Jacque had inherited more than just his grandfather’s Calling, but also his appetite for gold. Most Dragonkin, many Giantkin, and some Fairykin react to certain precious metals in the same way lesser beings do to narcotics. Platinum reacts like cocaine, Gold like opium, Silver like nicotine, Copper like cannabis, and so on. Other than his amber eyes, Lord Jacques appeared fully human, but had the same Goldhunger for which so many Dragons were famous.

Thus when the Guard Captain informed his Baron that one of the newly Confirmed Classers in the Village was a Transmutatrix, he was quite delighted. While foodstuff was commonly transported down river, gold and other precious minerals were not so easily taxed. His was an Agricultural Barony, no mines to harvest the sweet, sweet gold.

The Baron was not being purely selfish in learning about his subjects Class, he knew far better than most how difficult it was to progress a rare Class without a Trainer. As a new Accountant, he had catalogued all of his father’s many treasures, and discovered a Magic Mirror of Revelation with a bound Spirit, whose connection to the System was better than even the Altar of Communion. Ensorcelled to always tell the Truth, the Mirror helped find ways of progressing. Truth is not Honesty, and as the son of a Thief and Grifter, Jacque quickly learned the Mirror sought to deceive and mislead at every opportunity, which is why he always restricted his questions to the Mirror to concrete matters like Class Features and Skill Lists. Among all of his Mother’s dowery, the Mirror was the most precious.

The young lass would flounder on her own, she needed the help and guidance only one who had endured the same circumstance could provide. She could feel only privilege at being invited to join the Castles Staff. She was being given the opportunity to serve the Barony’s needs, and her own at the same time. What innocent maiden could not help but to be eternally grateful to such a kind and generous Master?

The Baron never even bothered to learn the young girls name before ordering his Captain to fetch her.

Meanwhile, Milly was in a near panic. She had no idea why she said Transmutatrix, when asked what Class she had acquired. No matter how hard she tried, she could not say the word Charlatan, unaware as she was of the Class Feature {False ID}. She knew it was some kind of Mage, but no more. The only Skill she had to start with was [Glamour], which allowed her to make minor temporary cosmetic changes to items. She could change the colour of her eyes or hair, even the thread she spun under Goode Hetty’s supervision. She tried changing a copper piece into gold, but it only lasted a few seconds. It wouldn’t have fooled anyone anyways, the engravings remained the same. It was experimenting with some thread that led to all the latter problems, she could make it the colour of gold, but it kept all the properties of flax. Father had been overjoyed, it was in the essential nature of the Gambler, that no matter how long the winning streak, someday the cards would betray and the dice would fail. Miller needed credit, and his daughter’s new Abilities would provide collateral.

So when the Captain of the Castle Guard showed up looking for the girl, Milly changed her auburn hair into blond, and her green eyes into blue. The Captain had no clue what she looked like, so it didn’t really help. Miller knew which side his bread was buttered, he and the Captain were old gambling buddies. Indeed the Captain had started out life as a bandit, before being recruited by the previous Baron. Briarwood was home to many such ‘reformed’ bandits, as finding loyal soldiers was always a problem.

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The Captain treated the new Classer with all the dignity and respect he was capable, which is to say none at all. She could have been an urchin being taken to the stock for all that he cared. One hand clasped about her forearm tight enough to leave a deep purple bruise, he marched/dragged to his Lord, still eating dinner, and threw her at his feet. It took two tries for Milly to stand up, and another attempt to successfully curtsy.

Milly was quite surprised by the Baron’s court. He was richly dressed in fine fabrics, that were stained and fit poorly. It was symbolic of the whole court, rich expensive trappings, dirty or in deed of repair. It reminded her more of her father’s card table than the dinner hall of a Highborn, not that she had anything else to compare it to.

The Baron finally deigned to notice her, resulting in a conversation like:

-”Well, well. So your the magic girl that can spin straw into gold? Come closer, I don’t bite.”

-”I’m sorry, your lordship, this is all... just so much. I’m afraid my father may have been exaggerating, true gold is still beyond my abilities. I’ve only been able to spin gold coloured thread.”

-”Yes, yes. You’re a young one. Hard to believe you are fifteen. Still spinning straw into thread is impressive, I’m sure with a little help you will manage to transmute gold. We have prepared a room for you, one for you to practice. I understand that your preferred Focus is the spinning wheel. You are in luck that I’ve an Heirloom Focus you can use.”

The Baron pulled out a snuff box, filled with his own blend, about 70% fine copper dust, 20% silver, 5% gold, and the rest various lesser minerals. Enough to satisfy his craving without rendering him insensate. And with that, Milly was escorted to the upper tower room.

Milly was marched to the great tower, and up to the Upper Chamber. The guards spoke not a word, neither of encouragement or explanation. Milly was cursing her father, silently mind you, but cursing with all the vocabulary of a girl raised by river folk. What she would not realize until many years later, was just how kind the neglectful Gambler had been in raising her. After all, he had only her mother’s word that the baby was his, and since Milly’s Legacy for Courtesan had to have come from somewhere, that word was of limited worth. He had clothed, fed, and provided for her to the best of his ability. He also realised that working at the Castle was likely the best opportunity she would ever get, he just never expressed any of that in a way Milly was able to appreciate.

The Chamber was surprisingly comfortable and spacious. Half of the room was set up as a bed chamber; bed, garderobe, and a large full length glass mirror. Clear as crystal, it was obviously of Dwarven workmanship. The other side of the room had a spinning wheel cleverly crafted of Elemental Copper, inscribed with Spellglyphs and ancient Runes of Power. The only wood was the Blackthorn Spindle that projected a sense of hunger. Next to it was three large bales of straw, possibly fetched from the stables. Milly thought it quite ridiculous, and just like a man that the heavy bales of hay had been brought up the many flights of stairs, rather than moving the comparatively less bulky spinner to the ground floor.

She sat in the chair by the wheel and began to cry. She had been told to practice spinning straw, but was clueless where to start. As long as there was an audience she was able to maintain her composure, even forget for a time that she wasn’t a Transmutatrix, whatever that was, no one had yet bothered to explain exactly what they thought that meant. As soon as she was alone, the gift of {Pretend} failed her. She had planned on explaining to the Baron that hers was the power of Illusion, but he did not give her the chance. Now, would he put her to death? He hadn’t made any explicit promises of punishment or reward, but her rare imagination ran away with dreadful insecurities.

With a loud *CRACK* the stone wall behind Milly spilt in two, opening to reveal a hidden passage. Out stepped a, something? The cloaked and hunchbacked figure was a humanoid of indeterminate gender and height. It’s crackling laugh seemed inhuman. Walking with the aid of a wizened cane, the wrinkled and gnarled hand the color of an old bruise was the only flesh Milly could see.

-”So they finally sent up a new Spinster to replace the old. I was expecting some years ago. So let me [Examine] thee. Hmm, oh hoh. Clever, clever. Thou be’est a Charlatan eh? Not even a full fledged Illusionist? Oh childe, thou art truly in ah pickle. A Goldhungered Baron thinks thee the solution to his troubles, when he is but the beginning of thine, he, he.”

The, the goblin, Molly decided, the goblin’s laugh decayed into a horse cough. The creature’s amusement at her predicament angered the mill girl.

-”Who are you foul creature? Some Knocker or post Rumbler haunting the Castle’s Gentles and other Good Folk? Some Goblin come to feed on my misfortune and sorrow?”

-”Thou speakest truer than thou thinkest, childe. Rumbler, another word for Troublemaker. So Called I have been. But not for the reason thou thinkest. What knowest thou of thy Baron’s House Name, hmm? Keen thee the history of the Briarwood? I think not. I am not a Jotun to grind thy bones to make my bread. I have long lost my teeth to time and tide. Eggs and milk alone I still eat. Not tears of a girl too stupid to run when her lies are about to catch up with her.”

-”Run? Where to? There is no where on this isle to where I might run! I don’t even know what I am? The Baron refuses to listen, insisting on the impossible. He will kill me if I have nothing to show for the night’s work. Please there must be something you can do?”

-”Kill thee? Why would that unfilial brat want thee dead? When thy pretty head could bring a pretty penny?”

-“I swear, he thinks I can spin straw into gold, when I can’t even spin it into plain thread. He said he would toss me out of the tower window if I fail him, you must help me.”

-”Swear not childe, for Words have great power when the System is listening. My help, thou asketh. What wouldst thou sacrifice? Help thee I could, if on the price we agree. Great the cost there is, spinning straw into gold.”

-”I demand you help me Goblin. In the Name of the System Gods, help me.”

-”Thou demands? Even if thou knewest my True Name, the strength thou hast not to demand.

-”Anything! Anything you want. Just tell me you’ll help. Here take my locket and gold chain, it was my mother’s!” Or at least that’s what her father said. The idea he would save something for fourteen years without pawning it stretched belief to the breaking point. It was far more likely he had won it in a poker game, and gave it to Milly as a present before he had a chance to lose it. Still she had chosen to believe the gift was a memento of her dead mother. Some connection was better than none.

-”Thou askest me for the power of Gold Shifting, and thinkest that a trinket of inferior purity would suffice? There is but the merest hint of Emotional Resonance, not nearly enough to generate the Essence needed for such a Great Working. Thou considerth my power to be of such little worth?”

-”No, no, not at all. They say Goblins crave innocent blood and infant flesh. My firstborn I pledge. My firstborn child to do with as you will!” Milly was not quite the monster the pledge would have her seem. If she bore no children, the Goblin would starve, or so she confronted herself at the time.

“I want to live! Not as the Baron’s slave, but more. Power, give me Power to make my own destiny and my child will be yours!”

The cloaked figure slowly shook its head, “Doth thou value thy own flesh and blood so little as to trade thy unborn’s life for the illusion of freedom? I will raise thy childe as mine own. Power I shall grant thee. Power to preserve thy life from the Baron’s whims. Power to feed his hunger. Power that shall never fill the emptiness within. Choose wisely, for once chosen the debt must be paid. Swear by Spindle and Ledger.”

-”I swear, I swear by Sun, Moons, and Stars. I swear by Spindle and Ledger. I’ll even swear by that garderobe, just save me from the Baron.”

The hunchback drew an immense book from under its cloak, nearly as big as the creature itself. Flipping it open to an unmarked page, it whispered in some Arcane Tongue as strange letters appeared filling the empty vellum. “Prick thy thumb on the Spindle, and press it here as thy Mark. I know better than to trust the word of a cheat and swindler without the sealing power of a Bloodoath. Three drops of blood thou shalt let flow into the Blackthorn, and thy thumb print on this Contract. Then I shall give thee, the Power thou seeketh. Power that may Damn thee or Save thee. The Choice is thine.”