Arrjee replied, “That magic belongs to Cottages itself.” Then, adopting the voice of a grizzled old man, “I am but a conduit.”
Onre and I laughed at that. He said, establishing a role play, “I hope you are a good one, Master. Perhaps I am not destined to have a home. I would welcome the magic of Cottages to prove me wrong.”
Arjee got serious and responded, “Do you really feel like you cannot have a home?”
“I haven’t really had one for many years. I am an orphan who became a disciple of Einvigi’s. It has not been a totally horrible life – I know many who have had it worse. It’s just that, well, no place has felt permanent, like I truly belonged.”
He seemed to be opening up. This might possibly work out. “I was considered an orphan also, although Arrjee’s family adopted me seven days ago. Which was just over half a day ago by what I experienced. Did Einvigi explain about me?”
He looked at me. The friendly light in his eyes as he spoke to Arrjee had gone. His reply maybe indicated I had advanced from something unpleasant between his toes to a windowsill. “She appeared to me about two hours ago. I had never seen her before, nor expected to. All she said is that my assistance in a task of hers would be much appreciated. Then she explained that I would meet a newly arrived awakened with a rare healing class. She asked if I would be willing to be injured in multiple ways and experience a lot of pain so that she could see the skills of this class function. I would not be injured for any significant amount of time. What the awakened could not heal, she could. It was clear that I could decline without negative consequences. But I was being asked by a goddess. How could I not accept her request? Also, I had become curious to see something that was new even to her. I accepted, and the next thing I knew we were in this glade waiting for you.”
“While we waited, she said you were a rare kind of awakened. That you only exist one day in seven, but because of that, you might well exist in this world for seven times longer. I’ll admit to not fully understanding that, but I did see you appear, and it is clear you have been here before.”
After a moment of thought, “Besides what you did and what was said, that is all I know. If it was clear to the goddess, it is probably clear to you as well. I don’t like half-breeds, with your filthy blood neither fully Human nor Covargh. And you may be one of the worst. Did you actually choose to be … that?”
Arrjee started to say something, but that immediately interrupted, temperament barely masked. “Arrjee, this is mine. Onre, yes, I did actually choose this. I specifically asked to be a ‘wolfman-man’. My previous world only had Humans, but we had stories of various kinds of beastmen. I wanted to be something different, but not too much so. Here I am, and I really like being me. What you think about me matters little. Einvigi has given her advice on the matter, and you best listen to it.”
Hackles half up, “Do you really want a home? I already love Cottages, and I have been there for mere hours. But know this – Cottages is almost entirely made up of Covargh. They hold no animosity toward Humans. You know what does matter? I am not its only hybrid. Another is Arrjee’s and my grandmother. If you show her any disrespect whatsoever, the pain you experienced a while ago will seem like a mosquito bite. Then when Arrjee is done with you, I’ll play too. Do not throw away this opportunity. Keep your biases well hidden, and if you are as smart as you seem to be, you will come to see their vanity.”
Arrjee added, “I may not act violently if you disrespect Grandma, but I assure you, I will act. Do not disrespect anyone in the village. Enter with a willingness to accept everyone as they are. Hold that attitude until someone shows you they are not worthy of your respect. Please be our friend. Please accept Cottages as a home. I want to like you.”
Onre responded to Arrjee, almost pained. “You look like a full-blood Covargh.”
Partially to his side, I still managed to see Arrjee’s eyes roll.
“But okay, I like you, even with a little Human blood. I will try to respect Forrest, and I will strive to conceal my attitude within your village. Know that my attitudes are common where I came from. This is not the First Duchy, is it?”
Arrjee responded, “No, this is the Fifth Duchy. I understand the First is mostly Human. We in the Fifth are split. Half of us are Humans, and half of us are Covargh.”
Onre nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, I could tell there was something off, but I did not know what it was. You two just … maybe think differently.”
“I have not traveled much,” Arrjee responded. “But I know the duchies have all served the same Kings since 0 KE. I hope we are not too different.”
Right, KE! “What does KE mean?” I asked with interest.
Both Arrjee and Onre started responding, but Onre stopped, allowing Arrjee to answer. “‘Kingdom Era’. It is 726 KE now. 0 KE was when all the nations of the continent joined together to fight off the invaders. At first they had been visitors and explorers. We welcomed them. But eventually they claimed our land as their own, and everyone on this continent joined together to force them to leave. Each nation swore itself to the King and have remained duchies to this day.”
Onre added, “They also started taking some of us as slaves. Some were shipped back to the Trichyan continent and their descendents may still be there even now.”
“Thrichyans? They are neither Covargh nor Human, right?”
Onre and Arrjee looked at each other, and silently negotiated that Onre would answer. “Yes, they are much stranger than even you.”
That was probably not how Arrjee would have started his answer.
“They are shorter than us by about a head. They have three legs and three arms, with three fingers and a thumb on each hand. Their long arms have two elbows, giving each arm three segments. They also have three sexes, but each of them can function as any of the three. Just not with themselves. Think of them as their torsos having three sides, each functioning as a different sex.”
Daayam, that really is different. I wonder why my cultural knowledge did not include pictures. I knew they existed, just not what they were.
You were given what a new Covargh here needed to know. Except for a few well-armed trading ports, the people of different continents have not been in contact for hundreds of years.
I thanked Interface. Then, “Well, I cannot argue with you, Onre. They are indeed much stranger than I am.”
Arrjee changed the subject. “You need to wash off that blood, Onre. I’m bloody too from wrestling, and Forrest’s hands can use a wash as well. There is a stream nearby. Let’s clean ourselves and head home. They are probably wondering why Forrest and I are not there yet.”
At the word “home”, Onre froze for a minute. Then he picked up his backpack to begin a new life. Again.
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[eight years ago, city of Cycles, First Duchy]
Within minutes after entering his home, his wife asked him, “You know you are a thief now, right?”
Pascel replied, puzzled, “I’ve always been a thief.”
“But it hasn’t shown up with Analyze before, has it?” Siqen responded.
“What?!? It says my profession is ‘Thief’, not ‘Singer’?”
They lived on the edge of the law. She was a bookie and general merchant. If a customer chose to sell an item far below its worth, what were their motivations to her? She was not a guardsman! He was a bard, singing at taverns when he could and busking on the streets when he could not. If occasionally some fat cat just happened to be too drunk to realize their small purse or bracelet disappeared, that was life.
A person’s identified job is not fickle. So long as his legitimate income in the last 50 days exceeded his “bonuses”, his profession remained as “Singer”. Now he was stuck with being labeled as a “Thief” for at least 10 days even if he did not steal another thing.
It would seem he had crossed over to the wrong side of that edge. “This does not make sense. I have not recently stolen any more than I usually do.”
“But how much have you been earning, genius? In three weeks you have worked just one tavern, for a single weekend. Have you been keeping track of what you earn busking? Since our boy started doing his grades last month, I'm sure your tips are way down when he is not with you. I swear people like him more than you.”
Their son walked into the room at that point, just in time to hear his mother’s last comments. He smiled. “Yeah, they like it when I dance!” And, to illustrate, he danced a little freeform jig – not particularly well, but many would consider it cute for a boy of his six years.
His father smiled. He loved his son, and he was as sweet a kid as he had ever seen. But right now, he and his wife needed to have an undisturbed, serious conversation on how they would go forward. He did not even know if they could stay in Cycles. At least, not until he could switch his occupation back to Singer.
“Boy, your mom and I need to talk for a while. It’s grown up stuff that we know will bore you. Why don’t you go over to your friend Niscus’ house and play for a while?”
She further encourages her son, “You like her, don’t you, honey?”
“Yes! She is nice and likes to play some fun games. Thanks for letting me go play!”
Immediately after he left, Pascal stated his initial thoughts, “It might be easiest for me to separate from you for a week until I get this ‘Thief’ thing taken care of. I don’t even know if I should stay here in town or maybe try to fix it as a wandering bard on the highways. They would be more likely to accept a bard-thief, wouldn’t they? I’m sure they’d watch their stuff, but I don’t think I would get arrested.”
“Yes they might, if you could avoid highwaymen and having them draft you. Or slit your throat.” She walked up to stand right before him, stared him in the eyes, then slapped him hard across the face. “But I have accepted you for nine years, and a stupid mistake is not about to stop that now. We work through this together!”
They stop for a moment and give each other a loving hug. She steps back and adds, “I probably can work something out with Daddy Large. I think he may be sweet on me, and he has always acted honorably with his associates. Well, as long as they don’t do something to harm his organization.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“But he does not know me. Why would he help?”
“He won’t. Not for free. But I can get you in the door. He may charge gold to be paid back later. Or he could have you owe him a favor.”
She paused, thinking, “I suspect it would be the latter. He doesn’t really need the gold, and favors are what keep his organization flexible. You have bard skills he could possibly find useful at some point. You are not a bad singer and entertainer, either, and he might just book you at a reduced rate at some of his events, once you get that ‘Thief’ label cleared. In the long run, this could actually work out well for us.”
This was one of those times where words seemed to violate fate itself. Just then there was a loud knocking at the door, and then a half-breed bruiser completely broke it down. Three other humans followed him in, knives drawn. Siqen recognized two of the Humans as members of The Grease. So far as she knew, Daddy Large’s organization and The Grease were in a state of truce, each sticking to their own territories. What would bring them here like this?
One of the men, a Grease Lieutenant, looked at the husband with anger and disdain. “So you really are a thief, Pascel. One of the boss’s girlfriends had her necklace disappear at Grenchen's Inn last weekend. You were performing. She saw you earlier today and realized you must have been the thief. Give it back, and we’ll leave your wife alone.”
Pascel proclaims vehemently, “I took no necklace! I’m not stupid enough to steal from a connected woman.”
The Lieutenant instructed, too calmly, “Trash the place. Find it. He had his chance.” The three goons began doing just that.
Seqen stands tall and speaks. “Do you realize I work for Daddy Large? He will consider this invasion a direct affront.”
“Oh, believe me, we know, sweetheart. Your idiot thief husband is providing us with the opportunity to take some of our territory back.”
Shouting, desperate and fearful, “Yes, I am a thief. But I did not take any necklace. Bring me to a truthsayer, and he will affirm it.”
The Lieutenant replied in his calm tone, “I do not believe in coincidences, nor do I believe you. Even if I did, the word is out to take what is ours. You two are in the way.”
The cottage had become quiet and a scene of destruction. The Covargh reported, “The necklace is not here.”
“This is your last chance. Where is the necklace?”
“I told you. It is not here, and it has never been. I did not take it!”
As cold as it was calm, “Gag them. We’ll violate them both, slit their throats, and grease their foreheads.” That is exactly what happened, with the door being propped in place to provide a semblance of privacy.
The Grease actually used a special grease on their victims’ foreheads when they wanted to claim responsibility. This was the start of a war, and it was meant to be loud. Neither of them had a chance. Her classes were Merchant and Accountant. His were Bard and Prestidigitator. Neither had the skills for nor were trained in battle. They had not striven for an adventurous life and had comfortably settled at levels in the high 20s. Until that day, it had been good enough. Then it was not, and they were no more.
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The boy got back home about a half hour after The Grease goons had left. The doorway had no door, and upon seeing that he knew something was very wrong. He ran in, and saw what a young boy’s psyche was never meant to perceive. He screamed and he cried for help all the way back to Niscus’ house. Her parents tried to calm him to no avail. Her dad, Merz, said he would go get some guards and investigate. He did.
On seeing the scene, he realized immediately who was responsible. He had done work for Daddy Large’s organization in the past, and he would be reporting this to them.
The guardsmen started gathering whatever evidence they could. There was not much of anything worth salvaging. It was clear to them all that a gang war had begun, although no one yet knew why it started at this very house. Merz asked if he could collect the boy’s clothes. They allowed it.
When Merz got back home, his wife and Niscus had calmed the boy. Or more likely, he was bordering on catatonia. He dropped off the few clothes and a stuffed toy rabbit he had brought with him. It was mid-evening by then, but he felt he should go report the events.
Daddy Large’s estate was about a mile from their cottage. Merz hurried there and told the guard there was major trouble. Two escorts were called, and they brought him to a meeting room. Daddy Large himself came in with two others Merz did not recognize. They all sat.
“Merz Sholut, I do not believe we have met, though I know you have done business with us in the past. I’m sure you recognize me as Daddy Large. These associates have my complete confidence. Now, you spoke of ‘major trouble’. What would bring you here at this time of day to make such a claim?”
“Sir, just 15 minutes ago I was at Siqen Litman’s house. Both she and her husband were violated and murdered by The Grease, and they completely trashed everything there. I do not know why that happened, but it appeared they may have been looking for something. I believe it may be an opening salvo in a war against your organization.”
“Their son happened to be at our house during that time playing with my daughter. He is safe, but he is the one who discovered their bodies. He came back screaming and crying, as I would have as well. Later he calmed, probably too much so. I believe he is close to catatonia.”
Daddy thought for a moment. “The boy needs to see an empathic healer. And he may not be safe. If they murdered both his parents, it is quite possible their “statement” is yet incomplete. Would you bring him here, with your whole family? If they know you are in any way involved, who knows what those psychopaths will do? I’ll send three guards back with you. Pack up what you need for a few days. In return for this prompt report, you will have my hospitality.”
He looked at the other two men. “Gather three strongarms to assist Merz Sholut. Get word to one of our empathists to come here this evening. And prepare for war.” They left to do just that.
Strongarm is an actual class of bruisers. They are several steps up from goons, having a degree of intelligence to back up their strength. Daddy does not hire goons. Anyone who works for him needs a functional brain.
Merz was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. “Do you really think my family is in danger?”
With a serious reply, “You are the one who saw their home. Do you have any reason to believe your family is safe?”
After thinking for a minute, Merz took a large breath. “No, Daddy Large, I do not. Thank you for your offer of shelter. We gratefully accept, and I shall some day repay this favor.”
“You will owe me nothing. If our interests align in the future, you are welcome to do more work for us. However, my hospitality now will not incur an obligation.”
They took a moment to look each other in the eye, and Merz nodded his acceptance of Daddy’s words.
Two large Human men entered along with an equally large Covargh. Daddy instructed, “Escort Merz Sholut to his home. He is a friend. Assist his family if necessary in gathering what supplies they need to spend a few days here. There will be a young boy there as well. He was first to witness the scene of his parents' murder. He probably has gone catatonic, and I expect he will need special support.”
Instead of walking, the escort party took a large carriage and accomplished their mission without incident. On the way back, Merz held the boy in his lap, and his wife Belenay held Niscus. The girl was two years older than him, but still plenty young to become traumatized at the thought of what had happened to her friend and his family. She held his rabbit for him.
Daddy Large and an elderly Human gentleman were waiting outside the entranceway to the mansion. Introductions were made as the passengers got out of the carriage.
Daddy Large introduced the man as Bren Statz, a semi-retired empathic healer. He was a cleric whose secondary class was empath. Since he was in town lecturing at a local college, getting this sometime-associate here had been quick. He scanned the two traumatized children and recommended bringing them to a place where they could lay down.
The boss led the Sholuts, now carrying the children, to a room with two large sized beds. Bren followed behind. He asked if the two children got along well, and Belenay responded that they did. So he instructed the parents to remove all their shoes and put the children in the center of one bed, right next to each other, in contact. The boy remained awake but almost completely unresponsive. The girl asked if he would be okay.
Bren responded to her and all present. “He is hurt on the inside really badly. Having you there as his friend will help him, but he will not appear to change for some time. I am sure you have been thinking how you would feel if it had been your parents. He hurts that much and maybe more.” As he was saying this, he was sending a calming reassurance to her.
She turned on her side and forced his rabbit under one of his arms. Then she gave him a two-armed hug which she did not release. The healer suggested that Belenay join them in the bed next to her daughter. “Let her feel your love, as she shares hers with him.” Then he looked at Merz. “Would you feel comfortable supporting the boy in a similar way?”
In response, Merz also lay in the bed, with one of his arms enveloping him.
After they were settled on the bed, Bren moved a cushioned chair to the foot of the bed. He sat, facing the unresponsive boy. “I am going to place myself in an empathic trance. Though I will be focusing on healing him, you all will experience some of that as well. I am sure you could use the extra comfort. For him, this will not be a quick process. The mind is much larger than the body. His whole world has been shattered. along with much of his spirit.”
Daddy Large announced he would make arrangements for a light meal to be brought in. He realized no one was hungry at the moment, but he felt having a large tray of sandwiches, cheese wedges, fruits, and water on hand would be a good idea. He left the room. It was silent and still for a few moments.
He returned with two servants, and they set down the spread. The others on and near the bed did not acknowledge, and he assumed there was some trance involved. There was a war to manage, so he left for his office.
Daddy Large's primary class is Strongarm, with a Soothsayer secondary. These have served him well in his rise to establish this organization. Soothsaying is one of the few classes which has no skills attached. Or rather, the class is the skill. It offers a powerful facility, but ranking it is very time consuming and difficult. Few people choose it. Daddy, with all the many years he has used it, is only Rank C.
He sat at his desk and activated that future sense, focusing on the war. It would likely last about three months. It should not become a total bloodbath. His organization will win their full surrender. The Grease will blame Pascel Litman for starting the war by stealing a valuable necklace.
How stupid are these people? Pascel was not even an associate. Even if he were the thief – Daddy sensed he was not – that excuse carried no merit. He decided to have his people investigate the missing necklace. Finding it could prove valuable in ending this charade.
Then he prepared a note for The Grease leaders. They were loosely run, with three brothers appointed by their father to continue the group as a triad. The organization was inefficient, and they were prone to infighting on top of their own moral depravity.
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You have commenced war with my organization. These are the terms for your surrender.
1. You must cease hostile endeavors.
2. You must pay 250 gold in direct reparations. Each month this continues will add another 50 gold.
3. You must give up claim to our 5 disputed neighborhoods.
4. You must turn over to my people the animals who killed and violated the Litmans.
The sooner your surrender comes, the fewer your people die. You are not in a position to bargain.
– DL
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Daddy Large knew his forces were superior, and that he would have the tacit support of most of the city’s guard. Being an honorable crook has its advantages. He sealed the note in an envelope and had it delivered to the usual middleman.
He focused on the Litman boy and the others. There is a future where he is murdered, but it should be possible to remove him from potential hostilities. The key will be the empath. He did not see the Sholut family as becoming significant pawns in this war, but it still seemed best to keep them at his estate for several weeks.
At Rank C he had a reliable sense of what he focused on during the next month. It was still quite good for two, and usually okay out to three. Up to four, it was just vague feelings. Beyond that, nothing. His foretelling was never absolute, just degrees of likelihood. The biggest hole would not begin to be filled until B. His soothsaying could not yet foretell anything about himself directly, and even then it would never help him in mundane matters such as gambling games.
With prognostications in mind, he returned to the bedroom. They were still on the bed and in the chair, but the parents had sat up and were in quiet conversation with Bren Statz.
Merz welcomed Daddy into the room and thanked him for providing the food. The boss took a chair at a desk to the left of the occupied bed and turned it around so he may face them all. “How are the children?”
Bren answers, “Niscus has fallen into a normal sleep. Her concern for her friend is admirable. She may one day make a fine empath in her own right. Even if she does not choose Empathy as a class, her ability to relate to people will be impressive. The boy has encased his mind in a shell. For now, that will be a useful defense for him, keeping out any other words or sounds that might hurt or confuse him. I would like Niscus to stay with him in this room for at least the next three days. She is about the only part of his former life still intact. Just her proximity will prove a comfort.” He looked at her parents for their consent.
They looked at each other and nodded. Belenay spoke. “I am not sure we could tear her away from him even if we wanted to. She hurts for him and wants to help in any way she can. She may remain here with your support and oversight.”
“Very well, she shall have it. That of her parents will remain paramount, however.”
“He ate part of an apple a few minutes ago,” Wern said. “It hurt me to watch him. He was like a marionette, with Niscus helping him with the motions of eating.”
Bren responded, “I had to help him with that also, from within his mind. It is a good sign that he would eat at all, even if it took our support. A ghost of his consciousness remains, so he is not completely catatonic. I expect the boy to become voluntarily responsive within three days.”
Niscus had awoken and had heard some of the conversation. “Yes, I will help him. It hurts to see his non-looking eyes, and I will be so glad to have him get better.”
Daddy spoke, “It sounds like we have a plan for the next few days. Past that, I believe it will suit the boy best to get him out of Cycles and our war. Master Statz, I know it would change your life to take in a child, but would you foster him at your home in Circles? Your village should remain free from our conflict.”
“We would be willing to take him,” broke in Wern. “All of us would love for him to become part of our family.” The others nodded in agreement.
“Normally, that would be an ideal solution. But I fear he will remain a target of The Grease. If they see that you are involved with him, you become targets also. Getting him out of town will avoid that eventuality.”
After a moment to consider, Wern acknowledges. “I understand. I guess we will show him our love now while we can.”
Bren Statz was still in shock. He and his wife never had children. Neither had wanted the complications of raising a baby, and they both had been very busy with their careers. She had died four years ago, and he essentially retired a year later, living alone in study and contemplation. Could he change his life now? He looked at the young boy and pondered.
“Alright, I will foster him. He will become my student and perhaps eventually an apprentice. This may be difficult for both of us at the start. I have little experience with children, and I have become used to living alone. We will both have to adapt to significant changes.”