‘I’ve never saved a man intent on drowning in his dinner before.’
The grinning face of Pierre greeted me upon my return to the realm of consciousness.
I felt sick. Well, that was an understatement. I felt wrung out, like I’d exercised so far past what my body could handle that it became a quivering mass of jelly. That formed a picture in my mind. ‘I’m jelly.’
‘Oh? That is how you feel. Jel-ly,’ he pronounced it in a distinct way, ‘was very popular amongst the upper class of my homeland. Delicious, is it not?’
I struggled to sit up, simultaneously trying to work out where I’d awoken. To be fair, getting up took most of my efforts as my head swam, doubling the feeling of sickness churning amongst my insides. However, a few breaths deep saw it subside, allowing me to take in the room, and bed, where I lay.
‘My room at The Helping Hand,’ Pierre said formally, sweeping his hand in an arc.
I gave a short nod. There wasn’t much in it. Two small beds with a firm mattress. A dresser and a tiny mirror. One chair wedged in the corner and a makeshift table that appeared to have three legs.
‘Do you know remember what happened?’
‘Not really. You had the title, Amoureux, right? And then you were lying on the ground in pain… I felt sick myself, then passed out, I guess. Poison, right?’
‘Not poison,’ Pierre replied, ‘but the effect is something similar. I am sorry for my part. Too excitable, that is what my tutors always spoke to me of. ‘Go and see the world. It will beat restraint upon your body if you do not heed its call.’ They often had many wise words which never journeyed past my ears.’
‘Pierre…’ I had an inkling that the inability to focus was his foremost problem.
‘Ah yes, I am sorry twice over. You see, you gave me a title using a skill – something that I have not seen before. I accepted the title without thinking about the cost to your body, nor the impact on my own. Level 1. Tsk… I was a fool, and I hope you can forgive me?’
‘You’re forgiven,’ I replied, still not completely understanding.
Pierre shook his head. ‘You do not understand the dangers. Uncontrolled skills are dangerous skills. They draw from your body, but you don’t know the cost of the skill or how much can be safely drawn. At Level 1, you wouldn’t even know your essence level as your information does not truly display until you have a class. I know this, you did not. I am the fool, you are not.’
‘Pierre, please, my head already hurts. Just makes sense in simple terms.’
‘Simple, yes? Your body could not handle the shock of the skill you used. +1 for two traits – that is amazing, no beyond that, it is phenomenal. If the news were to travel…’ I gave him a look. ‘The skill drew too much of your essence, your spirit, or whatever you will call it. If you give too much, there are consequences, even death.’
‘But I didn’t try to do anything.’
‘It is always thus with the strongest gifts. Power and danger welded together. You must be careful, particularly with your emotions and your skills. Emotions can wreak havoc on skills because you have no control.’
‘What was I then, happy? So, I used a skill? And with Betty, I was what? Hmmm… Oh. Okay.’
Pierre smiled knowingly. ‘Betty is a wonderous soul.’
I held back the part where Betty and I had barely spoken. ‘Okay. What now?’
‘The good news is that you have survived. You need to progress to Level 2 to understand things further. A class, skill description and cost will be of much use, and you will know how much essence you can draw. Each level comes with an increase to your statistics. This is always cause to celebrate, yes? The plus two!’
Was he salivating? ‘But your skill… You must keep it to yourself. There are dangers if it becomes known to many people. Classes and skills you must hide where you can, and only reveal to those who you trust.’
What was it with this town and its ominous threats lurking in the background. ‘Alright. Well, the good news is that I’m starting to feel like I’m not going to throw up on your bed.’
‘Ah yes, well, I thought that you could have that bed. That means you would throw up on your own bed. And I will have this bed.’ He pointed at the other side of the room.
My eyebrows climbed to my hair. ‘But we just met.’
‘And yet I feel a calling. I have saved your life, despite my own agony. This is a bond of trust few people share. Otherwise, you must imagine the newspaper on the morrow. ‘Man dies in stew?’ Ah, no, that would be too simple. The press, like to imagine the boldest of storylines, the most scandalous, yes? ‘Stewing man meets destiny’? Perhaps ‘Stew-pendous’. No, no, I must give this more work.’
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‘Why were you in agony?’
‘Assigning attributes has an effect on your body, and strength can be particularly bad.’ He shrugged. ‘I was very excited. How do feel about ‘Stew-pid man saved by agonised friend?’’
‘I think that’s plenty enough, Pierre.’
‘Of course, of course. I merely seek to make a point that our bond is formed. Here.’
CHARACTER INFORMATION: PIERRE LACROIX
Class: Guide
Level: 6
Experience: 928/1150
Health: 47/47
Essence: 18/18
Statistics:
* Strength – 5 (+1)
* Dexterity – 3
* Constitution – 2
* Wisdom – 1
* Charisma – 3 (+1)
His information whirled across my vision, and I paused to consider it.
If Pierre had started at Level 3, he’d now reached Level 6. Impressive, especially as he’d accumulated a thousand experience while I’d barely made a dent. But did that feel slow? He’d only accumulated three levels in however many years. His health was massive, and five strength looked impressive. Did charisma make him seem that extra bit more attractive? Weird.
‘How did share your information like that?’ I asked.
‘I do not recommend you do this unless you have great trust with someone. Simply focus on the person to share your information with and think ‘share character information.’ It is an intimate experience, yes?’
He trusted me, and he’d just asked me to share his bedroom…
I blinked twice at his smiling face, before sharing my information in return. There was an awkwardness to the process as I watched him read it. Pierre was accessing personal information about my level, class, or lack of class at this point, and statistics. It was like being stripped bare to his discerning gaze.
‘I say again, together we will achieve great things!’
Great unknown things… ‘Pierre, there is something I think I should say.’ Prepare for awkwardness, but better said now than left to linger. ‘I like the ladies, Pierre. Very much so.’
‘Yes?’
‘You are talking about bonds, and intimacy and…’
He appeared genuinely confused. ‘Is this one of your jokes? You are making fun of me for my terrible newspaper headlines?’
‘I…’
‘You think I am a lover of men and women?’
‘Well… Yes?’
‘It is not so. Pierre’s eyes are only drawn to one type.’ He stared at me intensely for several laborious heartbeats before breaking into laughter. ‘Rest easy, that is not you. Why else would I know Betty to be a wondrous soul?’
That’s what he meant by wondrous soul? Why, the sly dog…
My face must have changed significantly, as Pierre’s laughter came so hard it left him wheezing. I gave him the moment to enjoy himself, having leapt right into it with my premature judgments, after all.
‘I’m not saying no to sharing a room Pierre – heavens know I don’t have anywhere else to stay, nor any money. But we can reconsider tomorrow when my thoughts are clearer.’
‘There is much money to be gained in this town. It holds on – despite everything, Oro City endures. It holds on, and the gold is mined. While much money is paid importing oil, paying caravan guards, and milling, well, the gold pulled from the mine is more than enough to make up for it. Jobs pay well and the work is valued by the biggest businesses. The people, not as much, but they’ll pay well for the work, even from an outcast like you.’
‘I’m getting sick of being called an outcast.’
‘No offense is meant.’ He raised his hands in front of his chest. ‘This Aus-tralia, where you are from. You speak of Terra Austra-lis? I did not understand your accent before but after seeing many maps as a child, I racked my brain. You are British?’
‘Do I sound British?’
He scratched at light stubble on his jaw. ‘I confess, you do not. This has me more confused. I am an educated man. Please, you can tell me of it?’
Which of course wedged me in a difficult position. It was becoming crystal clear to me that I liked the Frenchman. Pierre came across as a little odd, and there were some definite questions about his European upbringing and sense of humour, but he seemed like a genuinely kind person. Now, I hadn’t met too many people to date, and everyone I’d met always seemed to either want something, or judged me for the outcast title. Pierre was the former, and if he remained straight up about what he wanted, then there might be room for the truth on my end as well.
‘First, tell me about the help you wanted. We never reached that part of your explanation.’
‘It is not very complicated. My class is that of a Guide, as you can see in my information. I get certain ‘feelings’ – let us call it that, about things, that help me to decide the path I must take. One of those feelings is my desire to explore. There is something hidden, about the demons, about the canyons, that we do not know. Of course, many have felt this way, and tried to find out what…’
‘What happened to them?’
‘They died.’
Right. Help me to do this because everyone who has tried so far, is dead. Good incentive. ‘What could possibly be hidden?’
‘The canyons opened in the middle of nowhere and there is no person who can explain why they came, or how it happened, or even what the demons are. What is it now, six, seven years, and we still do not know. I want to change this. I very much want to explore, to… experiment might be the best word. We are trapped and wait for our death, when I would rather live my life with liberty. We must learn to fight! My elan, my spirit, is strong. Mama would call it pride, perhaps. Pride of the blood that I feel this obligation to act. But I am not a leader, only the guide.’
‘I’m not really sure how I can help with that.’
‘I only ask that we help each other, yes? To level, to become stronger. I have my skills, just as you have yours… And are we not bound together now, you and I, although by what threads I do not know?’
‘None of that seems too problematic. I want to level as well.’
‘Fantastique! And now, we must seal it with a kiss.’ He leant forward, lips puckered as he drifted closer before he cackled with laugher. ‘Your face, your face! Sacré bleu! My dear Jacob, you have prejudices you need to work through. Much like the British after all.’
‘Not funny,’ I deadpanned him.
It didn’t stop the cackling.