Fjorgyn: A Rebel Rises

by RJ Castiglione

  “I’m not going to lie. Some may not survive the barrier, especially those who had a high constitution before being branded.” I paused to give Moga a sorrowful look. He was the highest level among us and had built up his Constitution as a hunter. He needed the stamina. He understood that I meant him, but was unphased by it. His tight-lipped frown remained unchanged “That is why we have to get the message out. All slaves need to begin leveling themselves and adding their attribute points to their constitution. The more health they have, the better.”

  Rose was calm again. “Okay. I understand. It’s a good plan. Insane, but good. What do you need the children to do?”

  “Get me as many herbs as possible. Moon grass, jasmine, wisp root, and ginseng. We have a bigger problem, though. How are we all going to level here? We can’t exactly increase our level substantially by killing cellar mice and cockroaches.” I felt a cockroach crunch under my foot.

  Moga spoke up for the first time that evening. “Why don’t you just issue quests?”

  “You can do that?!”

  Everyone was struck dumb in disbelief at my ignorance. They still weren’t sure what to make of me.

  Vindur chimed in. “If you have a challenging goal, which you do, you can create any number of daily or ad-hoc quests for those involved in accomplishing this aim. Now a husband can’t make a quest for his wife to cook dinner. That’s too easy. The gods won’t care. But quests to achieve a widespread slave rebellion will certainly result in quests that earn a decent amount of XP.”

  When Vindur was done inundating me with his tardy information, I turned back to the group.

  “Nevermind. Let’s do this. We have to be crazy careful, though.” Another turn of phrase they didn’t completely understand. I shrugged it off. “If we all start leveling up like dungeon delvers, I doubt the masters will ignore it. We should only instruct those who were a higher level when being branded to gain one or two levels. The group of us can pick up a level or two. The children should each get two or three. We can’t raise any suspicion.”

  Congratulations! You have shown remarkable insight as a leader. Your skill in leadership has increased to rank 2!

  …

  Congratulations! You have shown remarkable insight as a leader. Your skill in leadership has increased to rank 5!

  Congratulations! Your solid plan has impressed Moga. Your disposition with him has increased from Unfriendly to Indifferent.

  Congratulations! Your care for the well-being of the Thane children has earned the gratitude of Cilden. Your disposition with him has increased from Friendly to Trusted.

  Congratulations! Your care for the well-being of the Thane children has earned the respect of Rose. Your disposition with her has increased from Neutral to Friendly.

  I looked at the ranks of Disposition for the first time: Enemy, hated, unfriendly, indifferent, neutral, friendly, trusted, ally, companion. There were more Disposition ranks now. The game only had five. Indifferent, enemy, ally, and companion were new. Vindur enlightened me about my only question. Indifferent was negative: Someone didn’t like you, but they didn’t disregard you. Those who were neutral had no opinion and treated you like they would a stranger, which can be either a good or bad thing depending on the person

  Chapter 6

  With the meeting over, everyone returned to their rooms. I decided to escape to the garden for a midnight stroll. I still had to procure samples of the herbs the children would need to make our plan work. They were instrumental in our success and, if everything worked out, they would have the makings of promising herbalists in the future.

  I always loved Herbalism in Fjorgyn Online. Unlike other games that separated gathering professions and crafting ones, Fjorgyn combined the two. It made more sense. Herbalists knew the properties of herbs. Why would they have to level both herbalism and alchemy separately? Tailors needed cloth. Why couldn’t they just get it and make what they needed?

  Procuring materials was a solid way to level the profession. I still couldn’t waste time doing it if I was going to make hundreds of potent potions for our potential slave rebellion while constantly mutilating myself for the sake of Rose’s healing skill. The thought of my commitment to injure myself over and over and over again made my stomach churn. I was sure there had to be a better way, but no freeman or slave owner was going to willingly teach us how to heal ourselves.

  I examined a jasmine bud and gently separated a stalk from the main stem. If the children are going to do this, they will have to make sure not to strip the garden bare. I will have to talk to them about picking the essential ingredient without destroying the plant.

  Congratulations! You have discovered a new skill! Herbalism. You can use natural ingredients to brew powerful potions and poisons! Increase in rank to create more potent concoctions and for greater success in making more complex solutions. Current rank: 1 (2%)

  “You know why we plant so much Jasmine, right? A voice penetrated the shadows of the darker-than-usual night. Squinting at the source, I saw the outline of the young Clifford Grey. “We don’t need it for healing potions. The scent calms everyone, including slaves. The miasma reduces tensions that can lead to rebellion.” He paused only to step out of the shadows. “I know what you’re all up to.”

  I shuffled back and fell to the ground, afraid that our plan would be revealed and our lives would be forfeit before we even got started. Vindur fell from my shoulder and circled around the garden to get a better look at Clifford Grey. I tried to speak, but words failed me.

  “No, no, no. I’ll have none of that. Stand up.” I obeyed, looking him in the eyes. I had to tilt my head upwards. As a Trisian, he had at least one foot on me.

  “You, my dear slaves, are planning an escape. And if I heard you right, you’re planning on bringing more than just fifteen of you along. Now this plan of yours will most likely fall into ruin, but I like it and I want to help.”

  I felt as though I had finally seen Clifford Grey for the first time. The layers of “owner of slaves” peeled away slightly to show a calmer, more enlightened man. He was nothing like this father. What I first thought was cockiness and entitlement suddenly became strength and influence. I still had my reservations.

  “Why would you help us? You’re a master. You've built your entire civilization on the backs of slaves. You own us.”

  “Because I don’t want to own you! I don’t want there to be masters and slaves. Believe it or not, Vros wasn’t always like this. We were once a proud people and had an empire that spanned the entire continent. The wealthy always had paid servants, but never slaves… Now we have become complacent. Look around you. We hide behind our protective barriers and walls, wasting away in our putrid gardens while monopolizing trade goods. We haven’t discovered a new potion or enchantment or spell in over a century! We milk from the poor and lounge around all day and it has made us fat and lazy and cruel.”

  “You’re not fat or lazy, master.”

  “Well. I take pride in that. My father, however, does not share my appreciation for healthy living and hard work. Anyhow. I heard your plan in full, and I want to make it work. Hundreds of slaves escaping is just the leverage this nation needs to inspire change in leadership.” He paced back and forth, his tense muscles stretching out his shirt. He brushed his hands through his hair, lost in deep thought for a moment. “If you haven’t noticed, we have a hierarchy based on merit. And if those in charge suddenly misplace hundreds of slaves in a single night, events will be set in motion to enact positive change. The upset will create a vacuum of power that can be leveraged by those wanting abolition.”

  As his words sunk in, I reviewed our plan in my head.

  “I think we have everything covered for the moment.”

  A chortle escaped his lips. “Silly man. You have nothing ‘covered.’ Take whatever herbs you need from my garden. I certainly cannot produce what you will need. I will purchase the rest. I will also have a thousand vials brought to the basement. You can brew to your h
eart’s content now that I see you have the skill.” He was referring to my careful attention to the jasmine plant.

  “And when you identify those slaves who will serve as healers, I will attempt to buy them. They will certainly need a place to be trained outside of the scrutiny of an attentive master. As for the rest, I will see that a small portion of them are equipped with weapons from my personal stockpile when they reach the barrier – but not before. I will not arm an insurrection within this city. I saw the look in your eyes during our personal introduction. You corrected me like an equal, like one who does not think himself a slave. You wanted rebellion. Let us make that happen in the future, but only once they are free.”

  I was taken aback at all of the things I overlooked. Every word Clifford said was correct. We needed his help. And there was something about him that made me want to trust and follow him. This must be what others feel when their disposition towards me change.

  “There’s a catch, though.” That trust quickly wavered. Why is there always a catch?

  “There is a small group of us who are friendly to your cause. We were forced to be masters by our parents. We would see ourselves free of this moral burden. While there is a faction of non-slave owners in the oligarchy who will further our plans, we will not escape blame when we allow our slaves to escape. You must take us with you.”

  That was fair. I offered silent consent.

  “And I will have none of this self-mutilation nonsense. That’s how blood magic is born. Your plan would require you stab yourself violently thousands of times before Rose reached level 30. This is a city of magic. Low-level healing spells are very expensive but can still be found in small numbers if you know where to look. Come to my library in the morning. Most people don't sell them. Most don't even make them for others. I can give you ten various healing spells that will work for others. I know the barrier. Rose’s direct healing touch is alright, but you also need more variety on top of health potions. And you need two healers per station. I won’t have the barrier be littered with corpses in the morning because one person fails to cast in time.”

  Clifford produced a book from his inventory and tossed it towards me. “This one is for you.”

  Spell Tome: Healing Seed I. This spell plants a living seed in the body of the target that heals for 1hp per second for 10 seconds. Upon expiration, the target is healed for another 5hp. Mana cost: 20 Cast time: 2.5 seconds.

  Without thinking, I rapidly turned the pages of the book. It took on a life of its own. A green glow exploded from the pages while the book turned to dust.

  Congratulations! You have learned a new spell! Healing Seed I. This spell plants a living seed in the body of the target that heals for 1hp per second for 10 seconds. Upon expiration, the target is healed for another 5hp. The healing amount is augmented by wisdom. Mana cost: 20. This will increase in rank every five skill levels, improving the healing value and increasing the mana cost.

  I must have been brimming with joy when reading the notification. I quickly cast the spell on myself, and a soft green tendril emanated from the center of my chest before vanishing. I could feel the mana reduction. It made me dizzy. I also felt healing power wash over my entire body. The spell’s power was reduced by my loss in base wisdom. I had to gain a few levels to make the spell more powerful.

  “I can see your gears turning and know what you’re thinking. You – all fifteen of you – have my permission to level to your heart’s content. I cannot promise the same for my father. If he shows up, ensure that he is only served by the lowest level among you. He should not notice a slave gaining one or two levels. That is insignificant. He seems to have remembered you, though. If he notices that you are leveling quickly, he will have you killed.”

  “Master, thank you.” The young man put his hand on my shoulder and offered me a reassuring nod. There was also a spark of something else in his eyes. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. “I mean it. Thank you.”

  Congratulations! Your trust in Clifford Grey II has improved your relationship. Your disposition with him has increased from Indifferent to Neutral.

  Clifford turned around and left the garden without another word.

  “What do you think, Vindur?”

  “I believe you are one lucky elf.”

  I was beaming with a new hope, rushing back to the basement to tell the others. Rose was amazed at my new spell and my aptitude with it. She even admitted that she was unsure if I would have taken to the divine healing of her people seeing how quickly I was able to cast nature-based healing spells. She was a water elf – and water elves and forest elves had trouble sharing spells.

  They all agreed with one thing, though. If this plan was to have any chance of succeeding, the core group of them would have to do everything they could to level up. They all had to become healers. I had to make more potions than most people make in their entire lives. We had to escape with resources enough not only to survive but to thrive. We had to become a company.

  ------

  The next morning felt like a bright, new day. For the first time in over two weeks, his new friends had a sense of hope. They had been given the green flag from their master to increase their level and plant the seeds for a slave rebellion. Over breakfast, I explained to the children the proper method for picking herbs, showing them the difference between slowly removing the essential components and ripping the plant to shreds.

  Rose warned the two to be careful – to not be seen harvesting herbs in other gardens and to remain within the confines of their estate. After the two had stuffed their faces with toast and eggs, they accepted the quests we had given them and ran off, eager to test their new skills.

  I fiddled with my own breakfast: a single slice of toast, a fried egg, and a few bits of bacon. Now that we were on more friendly terms, the master saw fit to provide us food that would fill our bellies, unlike other households where slaves were forced to operate on 75% fatigue. A few minutes later, with time to spare before I had to meet the master, I decided to wash up. I hadn’t been keeping myself nearly as clean as I should have – mostly because I was pissed off at being locked away as a slave.

  Vindur and I headed to the washroom. I wanted to leave him behind but he refused. Last time he sent me away on my own, I was captured and sold into slavery. The washroom was simple. It had a single sink (working plumbing did cheer me up), small stools, buckets, soap, and rags. Any water poured on the floor drained into a small hole in the center of the room to be reclaimed, filters by the soil and sand beneath us, and recycled again to the nearest well.

  The room was intended to serve everyone, but we had a standing agreement that men would clean in the morning and women would clean in the afternoon. It was offered as a place of seclusion in the evening for anyone who wished to use it at night. Already, the rest of the group had washed aside from Baridorne, a level 9 half-giant that had been brought here with us.

  Analyzing Baridorne yielded impressive results. He was 43 years old, possessing a high skill in heavy armor and two-handed weapons – rank 13 in both. He also had the same builder, agriculture, and creature of burden ranks as Cilden. What surprised me most of all were the scars on his back. A spider web of thin lines covered his entire backside, some wrapping around his torso to mark his ribs. I pieced together his story from this information alone. He must have been a soldier fighting Vros, only to be captured by slavers.

  “I escaped before they were able to brand me.” Baridorne broke the silence. “You were going to ask that, right?”

  His voice echoed in the room – a deep and booming voice that commanded respect.

  “Yes, I was.” Pleased with my honesty, Baridorne resumed cleaning himself. Stripping off my clothes, I took the stool next to him and began washing with a small bit of rag dipped in a soapy bucket. The man was a behemoth next to me, easily eight feet tall.

  “We’re all going to get out of this, you know. I believe in your plan.” The man’s words were comforting. Despite trusting to ho
pe, I worried that I would let my new friends down. I experienced this same doubt on earth and in the game whenever I was afforded the chance to lead. I often failed on earth. And in the game, failure was always an option. If I lost, I could resurrect and try again. This wasn’t earth, where a loss meant money out of my pocket. This wasn’t a game, either. What I was planning had real consequences for hundreds of people. I would resurrect. They could all die.

  “You have all trusted in me despite my low level and my having no apparent and useful skills. Rose and Cilden trust me with their children. You and Moga and the others trust me with your lives. Why?”

  “Because, boss. You’re the only one giving us a chance.” The half-giant pushed up from his stools and turned towards me. I quickly learned that he was large. Everywhere. I stood up to meet him only to avoid staring at his oversized junk. His eyes were puffy. He had been crying. “Can you promise me something?” he asked.

  Before I could accept, he continued: “When the guards came, I held them off while my wife and daughter escaped into the forest. She is only level 6 and my daughter is only a newborn. We hadn’t even named her yet. When we get out of here, will you help me find them?”

  You have received a quest! “Family Bonds.”

  Baridorne has asked you to help him locate his missing wife and child.

  Reward: Experience gain and disposition gain with Baridorne.

  Bonus: Find them alive and in good health for an additional, unknown reward.

  “There is no possible way I could say no to your request. I accept, my friend.”

  A massive grin exploded on his face. He couldn’t contain himself and picked me up in a skin-on-skin bear hug. I could feel my spine cracking as he embraced me in relief and excitement before putting me back down. He thanked me profusely before planting me back on my feet. He rushed out of the room, too happy to remember his towel. Rose started screaming in the hallway, yelling at Baridorne to get dressed. Something about “There are children around!” and “Put that away before I cut it off!” and “Put me down! I don’t want a hug! Michael! What did you do!?”