by Eric Ugland
I laughed and popped a potato into my mouth. They were delicious, and I told Owen as much.
“The missus will be happy,” he replied with a smile. “Her recipe.”
“How long has the Empire been—”
“Here? My great-grandfather fought this city as a Legionnaire. Hs spilled blood on this spot. They took they city, and they conquered its people. After the war, when he retired, he returned and bought this tavern.” Owen pointed over my shoulder to a sword and shield mounted above the fireplace. “As a whole, the Empire has been around a thousand years. Always growing. Sometimes shrinking. The Gods alone know who will be a good leader, and who will guide us to ruin. But still, the Empire remains.”
He snatched a mug from below the bar, pulled on a spigot to get a frothy mug of ale, then took a long drink. He sucked the foam from his mustache, and leaned back against the wall.
“You,” he said, gesturing with the mug and spilling just the slightest drop, “might want to do a better job hiding who you really are.”
“How do you mean?”
“The Empire, as a general rule, is most of fond of, well, the Empire. Now I know you are with Cleeve Dye. I know the man. Actually know him, not just of him, and I wager if he trusts you, you are a good sort. But you are either of the Empire or not. So take a second name, and start referring to ‘us.’ Not ‘you.’ Especially once you get around those Legion boys and girls. They are quick with the blade and hot blooded, the lot of them. Always eager for a fight and eager to prove their worth to the Empire. If you are not an Imperial citizen, there are many laws you are not protected by.”
“Not yet an outlaw, not yet a citizen?”
He gave a rueful smile. “Something along those lines.”
“I mean, I guess I was, in a way, born here, so doesn’t that make me a citizen? Or, maybe you could just adopt me? Then I’d be a citizen, right?”
Owen blinked a moment, definitely caught off-guard. Then he laughed, a sharp bark and a guffaw.
“Oh,” he said, dragging the word out long, “it would be all manner of interesting to have you as part of the family. But I have to decline, sadly. You come into this family, and the missus will have you helping out the family business. Afore long you will find yourself stuck in the ruts of this dump.”
“It’s no dump.”
“Oh, you have yet to see the capital, have you.”
“Haven’t seen much of anything,” I replied. “Basically just the road between here and Arenberg.”
“Capital is worth a trip. Most amazing place I ever beheld.”
“I’ll add it to the bucket list.”
He took a sip, and raised an eyebrow at me.
“Saying from back home,” I said.
“And here I thought you were a man of the Empire.”
“Right. I am. So it’s a phrase I made up. A list of things to do before you die. You know, kick the bucket.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Not sure that one will do much catching on here. Why would you kick a bucket to begin with?”
“No idea.”
“As commonplace as danger and death are in the Empire, probably not good to go around talking about what you want to do afore you die. Probably best to just do it.”
“Is it dangerous out?”
“Where?”
“Here. I mean if I wanted to go out for a nighttime stroll—”
“I wouldna.”
“You wouldn’t, or you wouldn’t if you were me?”
“Iffn I were you, I might, but only to knock a few heads in for some rough lads I want to learn a lesson. But lookin’ at you, I think you might not know how to pull your punches, and we need all the those lads we got in case something comes down out of the North this winter. But if I were me, and I am, I might go out and be okay because those rough lads and lasses know where the beer is in town, and who would not be getting any if they muck about with me. So, you want to be having a fight, you might go for stroll.”
I thought about it, and while I’d never been one to back down from fights in the past, it seemed foolish to go looking for them for no real reason. And I didn’t want to be the asshole who murdered a bunch of punks on his first night in town.
“Noted,” I said. “Thanks.”
Owen gave a lethargic salute with his mug, and then polished off his ale with a last quaff. In an incredibly swift and smooth motion, he went from drinking to hurling the mug right over my shoulder across the room. There was a hollow thunk from the darkened corner.
“Ouch!” came a cry.
“Get your lazy arse down the stairs and into your bed you worthless sack of troll dung!” Owen shouted.
I watched, bemused, as the young man extricated himself from a young lady. The man went through door, while the lady went upstairs.
“Evenin’,” Owen said sweetly to the girl as she passed.
She blushed in response, and ran a little faster up the stairs.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Owen said. “But I thought it time I get to sleep.”
“Was that—”
“My worthless spawn? Yes. My son is betrothed to that lovely girl. We are waiting for the solstice afore they get married, but, as her family has a farm a week and a half north of here, she chooses to live and work in the inn. Learn the profession she will have. And she is fantastic. Best serving girl we have. My son, on the other accursed hand, is worthless. Cannot cook. Burns the simplest of foods. Cannot chat or serve drinks. Says it is beneath him. Says he is allergic to horses and hay. So he cannot be around the barn. He thinks to join the Legion. Thinks life there is glory and medals. Shiny swords and shimmering armor, not willing to listen to an old man tell him that this here, this is the easy life. Little does the little lad know. Anyhow, to bed, good sirrah. Sleep well.”
It was perfectly clear he was shooing me from the dining area and back to my room. I thanked him again for the food, and retreated upstairs.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I hopped into the bed and tried to sleep. Mostly, I just stared at the low wood ceiling, so I finally went through the notifications I’d been ignoring:
GG! You’ve killed a Human (lvl 5 Bandit Berserker).
You’ve earned 250 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
GG! You’ve killed a Human (lvl 4 Bandit).
You’ve earned 200 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
GG! You’ve killed a Dwarf (lvl 3 Bandit).
You’ve earned 150 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
GG! You’ve killed an Elf (lvl 6 Bandit Archer).
You’ve earned 325 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
Oooh, your skill in Large Weapon Throwing has gone up to lvl 10. Fancy a game of catch? +3% dmg, +5% skill.
Oh my gosh, shut the front door, you reached level 10 in the skill Large Weapon Throwing! You are now a Novice Large Weapon Thrower! For that, you get 1000 xp!
Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 4! You receive 6 attribute points to distribute in the next 36 hours or you lose them. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.
Crap, I thought, and hurriedly looked at my character sheet. The six unused points were still there. When had I gone up in level? It must have been after pulling the wagon for the first afternoon. Whatever the case, I still had the points for the moment, so I quickly tossed two points into Dexterity, two into Agility, and two into Charisma.
Congratulations! Due to hard work, you’ve gained +12 STR!
Congratulations! Due to hard work, you’ve gained +18 CON!
Wowza, a trait! Despite pain, despite depleted stamina, despite riding on the cusp of death, you did not give in. You did not waver. You have gained the trait, IRON WILL. Stamina no longer applies to you. What a beast you are.
Not a bad haul. Apparently nearly killing yourself all day long is a pretty good way to pump up some attributes. Still, I felt like I wasn’t doing quite enough to really make sure I was going to be able to take full advantage of the game I was living in.
I pulled up my character sheet to look at things and try to make a plan of sorts.
Montana - Lvl 4 Nothing
Traits
Race: Fallen
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 280 lbs
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Blonde
Renown: 0 - No one even knows you exist.
Statistics
HP: 236
STAM: n/a
MP: 182
Armor: +23 (Chain Mail)
Active Effects: None
Attributes
Strength: 55
Agility: 17
Dexterity: 19
Constitution: 52
Wisdom: 13
Intelligence: 13
Charisma: 19
Luck: 27
Unassigned points: 0
Skills
Riding - improvised (LVL 1): You can now ride improvised devices. +5% to handling.
Falling (LVL 1): You can flail through the air with the best of them. Watch for the sudden stop at the end.
Animal Handling (LVL 5): You can calm down a domesticated animal, keep a mount from getting spooked, intuit an animal’s intentions, or, if you’re really lucky, tame a wild best.
Harvesting (LVL 5): You can pick plants, you can grab fruit, you can cut neat things out of creatures you slaughter. That’ll save the world, right? At Level 5, you are able to harvest common elements with no penalties. +10% successful gathering chance
Swords (Lvl 3): You can swing sharp objects and likely not hurt yourself. +7% damage. +7% skill.
Spears (Lvl 4) Remember, the pointy end goes towards the enemy. +8% damage. +8% skill.
Unarmed Combat (Lvl 9): You can strike with the fist or the foot, and must register your hands as lethal weapons. -13% stamina drain. +13% damage.
Axes (Lvl 8): You can chop down limbs of trees or men. Or monsters. +12% damage, +12% skill
Large Weapon Throwing (Lvl 9): Take that massive weapon and throw it away! +13% accuracy, +13% damage
War Hammers (Lvl 5): Everything IS a nail. +9% damage, -9% stamina drain
Light Armor (Lvl 3): A little bit of leather goes a long way. +7% dmg reduction, -7% movement penalty
Abilities
The Sword of My Enemy is My Sword: You’ve found that, in a pinch, every weapon will do. +1% dmg for each new weapon used in a combat.
Iron Will: Stamina no longer applies to you. What a beast you are.
Feats
None
Boons
Powerful Build (Mister Paul) - You are bigger than you look. For all strength roles, you are counted as one size category larger than you actually are.
Regeneration (Mister Paul) - Outside of combat, your body will repair rather quickly. Given enough time, it’s possible you will heal from nearly any wound.
Gift of Gab (Mister Paul) - Should you encounter a language you do not understand, as long as you hear at least three words of it, you will understand it, and speak it, perfectly.
Indicium
None
Relationships
Rumib Pass (destroyed) - Liked
Languages
Goblin
Imperial Common
Mahrduhmese
Spells
Lifeform Identification (Lvl 1) (costs 1 mana) Identify uncommon or lower lifeforms.
Basic Object Identification (Lvl 1) (costs 1 mana) Identify any non-magical common or lower item.
Heal Other [lvl 1] (costs 100 mana). Through the use of magic you are able to heal another through touch. Heal 50 Hp.
Humus [lvl 1] (costs 10 mana). This spell gathers dirt and organic materials, moisture, and bacterial ingredients within one mile/level of the caster and places the mixture anywhere the caster wishes within range. This is humus, the black, enriched soil excellent for growing plants in pots or gardening. Of course, the mage may use it however he wishes, but it is usually for growing things in pots and window boxes. If no such materials are within one mile/level, the spell has no effect.
I guess I looked good. I mean, I hadn’t seen a single other character sheet, but based on gaming I’d done in the past, I felt pretty reasonable about it. My strength was starting to get away from me, which could be good, could be bad. Regardless, I needed to work on agility and dexterity, or I’d be in trouble. Technically, I needed to work on a bunch of stuff. I was still green in every single skill I had, and I needed to get those up. Especially if I was ever planning on going up against something more than a low-level bandit. And my best skill involved throwing my primary weapon away. I doubted even I’d be able to carry enough battle axes, war hammers, or great swords to make it through an entire fight throwing them.
With time to kill — I couldn’t sleep — I knew the best thing I could do was start grinding a skill. I pulled a knife out of my pouch, and was about to work on small weapon throwing when I rethought that particular gem of an idea. It’d be a spectacularly dick move to ruin Owen’s walls just because I wanted to get better at knife throwing.
Instead, I looked over the room, trying to think of something I could practice without damaging anything. Or disturbing anyone else. I got out of bed and looked at the desk. Seemed sturdy. I stood flat footed, and jumped up on to the desk. Not super hard, but there was a real challenge do it, making sure I didn’t catch a toe and defenestrate myself.
Jump after jump, my quads were starting to burn a bit. Then it happened.
Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Jump. You can leap, skip, perhaps even hop. Perhaps with enough practice, you’ll be able to leap tall buildings with a single bound. But let’s not hold our breath. +1% to distance, +1% to height.
Boom. New skill.
By the time the sun rose over the hills to the east and shone down on the village, I’d done enough jumping. I’d managed to get it all the way to level 6, and though I couldn’t quite make it to the top of the dresser, I was getting closer. And, I was feeling the cabin fever. I wanted to do something outside. I practically bounded down the stairs into the tavern. Cleeve sat at the bar talking to Owen. Some of the guards and drivers were scattered around, eating their breakfasts. Everyone had a warm smile for me. I gave my awkward wave.
Cleeve looked up and motioned for me to join him. As I walked over, Owen whispered something before sliding away and out a door behind the bar.
“You got something, boss?” I asked.
“I do,” he replied. “Before anything else, did you really mean to pay for everyone’s rooms last night?”
I blinked a few times and frowned, thinking. “Maybe?”
“You gave him a gold. Rooms here are a silver. I was going to cover the cost, but—”
“No, that’s fine, I meant to,” I lied. What’s money anyway, right?
“Very generous. A fair amount needs to get done in town today. Most of it rote boring stuff that a man of your skills is not exactly suited for.”
“No wagon pulling?” I asked with a slight smile.
“No, not for the moment. We are done with wagons for a spell.”
I must have looked very confused because Cleeve just laughed at me.
“From here to Osterstadt, there’s no roads,” he said. “But there is a lake.”
“There’s a lake. Is—”
“Sometimes I forget that you have no idea of the geography here. Saumiers borders a rather large lake.”
“So, boats?”
“You leave that to me, Montana. For today, I need you to work with Nikolai.”
“Training?”
“No.”
“Then wha—”
“Just ask Nikolai. He has the details, not I.”
“Got it, boss,” I said, turning to look for Nikolai.
“Oh, and Montana,” Cleeve suddenly asked, “did you really ask Owen to adopt you?”
I shrugged. “Seemed like a potentially good idea.”
Cleeve shook his head and turned back to his breakfast.
There was a whistle, and su
ddenly Nikolai was standing next to the exit of the inn.
“We are off, rook,” he said, turning and leaving the place before I could respond.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The morning air was crisp, fresh, and amazing. I took in deep lungfuls, feeling invigorated by the whole world around me. Hoarfrost hung on the edges of leaves in the shade. It smelled like fall.
Nikolai was already over by the wagons, glaring at me for doing such ridiculous things like smelling the world. Darius was already out with the horses, brushing them, checking their wounds, that sort of thing. Nikolai pulled his armor out of the wagon and checked it over, pulling some of the straps and making sure everything was ready to go. Then, he pulled it on. I hopped in to help with some of the harder to reach buckles. He had a pretty impressive set: banded iron cuirass, big metal pauldrons, a chunky metal collar thingy—
“Can you, I guess, tell me the name of the armor bits you’ve got?” I asked.
He blinked at me a few times, and then sighed.
“Helm,” he said, pointing to his head. He had a full face cover with a large T cut out of the front for eyes and nose and mouth. “Gorget.” The chunky metal thing around his neck. It went down both his chest and back and covered some of his clavicles. “Cuirass.” The banded metal bit covering his torso. “Pauldron.” His shoulders. “Vambrace.” Forearms. “Gauntlets.” Gloves.
He took a deep breath. “You want all the bits I don’t have on?”
