by Iliev, Neven
“Knew Jennifer,” Lichter corrected him. “I heard that problem child’s bad attitude earned her the ire of some bad people and she got herself executed.”
“Ah… That’s a shame,” Hilda lamented. “I liked her, she was funny.”
“Yeah, you muscle-heads were always on the same wavelength,” Faehorn glared at her. “I mean, violence was the only thing you agreed on, but then again that was, and still is, your answer to everything.”
“Now see, I know yer tryin’ to insult me, Shoestrap, but I ain’t gonna fall fer it, not when I’ve had a few drinks in me.”
“Still, her skill in combat was quite promising,” the Paladin tried to change the topic. “Compared to her, my students are a little… lacking. You saw them yourself, right?”
“I don’t know, Lichter, I think that guy with the buzz cut and the scar on his cheek was quite good. He actually recognized that ‘Juggernaut’ as the superior fighter and was far more cautious than the others.”
“Hah! Still got his ass handed to him,” the dwarf pointed out with a chuckle. “My lot fared no better though.”
It wasn’t just the Ranger and Rogue students that sparred against the so-called Rustblood Juggernaut earlier that day. The Warriors, Berserkers, Paladins and Monks had also had a go at her, though unsurprisingly, none had come close to even scratching her. Still, it meant the trio were able to see all of their respective pupils in action, which was more or less the point of the whole affair.
“There’s sumfin’ about the way she moves,” she continued. “I swear she could see the blows comin’ before they even took a swing at her.”
“You still gave her a good few dents, though,” Lichter smirked.
“Well, yeh. Don’t matter who or what it belongs to, all armor is naturally weak in certain places. Golems ain’t no different ye know! What sorta teacher would I be if I didn’t show my lot how to fight a well-armored target like that?”
She gave an accusing glare at Faehorn, who returned it with a sharp stare of his own.
“Any Ranger that tries to fight that thing head on is already a failure in my book.”
“Bullshit! Ye could take her easy!”
“I’m not so sure about that. I mean I could definitely do it if she were an ordinary steel or iron golem, but a mithril one? And a Paladin to boot? I’m not saying I can’t beat her if push came to shove, but it certainly wouldn’t be easy.”
“Ye about that, how in the blazes did a golem become a Paladin?”
“Well, Hilda, as it turns out she used to be a gnome,” Lichter informed her.
“Get out!”
“No, I’m serious. I was one of the people the authorities consulted regarding her strange condition. I won’t divulge her circumstances beyond that though. It would be rude to her as a person.”
“Betcha you woulda loved to make her yer student, huh?”
“Oh, immensely so. Unfortunately, she already follows another path, different from that of Nyrie.”
“Lemme guess. She follows the good ol’ God of Probability, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Figures. She fits right in with the rest of those nutjobs.”
The three of them had come across dozens of the God of Chance’s followers over the years. There did not seem to be many of them, but one or two always turned up whenever big things went down. Whether they were involved in said events directly or just happened to be there was unclear, but it didn’t matter. Any adventurer that traveled the world for long enough eventually learned that the appearance of the faithful of the Goddess of Uncertainty heralded great and sudden change. Sometimes violent, sometimes not, but always troublesome.
“No wonder she’s so fecking random,” Hilda continued. “I mean, that muffin song? Seriously?!”
“You didn’t seem to complain when you sang along with the students,” Faehorn pointed out.
“… It’s a fun song, okay?”
“I suppose spreading that jingle is her way of worshipping her God,” Lichter mused. “I suspect that Brendan is who she’s referring to when she sings of the muffin man that lives inside her head.”
If nothing else, using a nickname or an alias was far better than trying to write out the deity’s ever-changing name with pig entrails like that weirdo they had encountered years ago.
“That or she’s completely bonkers,” said the dwarf. “That sort of viciousness she showed in the arena? That’s not something a sane person would do.”
“Perhaps,” agreed the Paladin, “but she knows enough to hold back outside the ring and obeys the same laws as everyone else. She even applied for an Artificer Mentor permit with the Hammers. Even if turbulent, her way of life still seems like a respectable one.”
“I’m actually with the old bat on this one,” the Ranger said sternly. “The way her attitude changes in the blink of an eye is downright terrifying. I don’t care what she used to be or how well she behaves herself, I’d never trust a monster with my life.”
An entirely reasonable stance, especially considering Fizzy’s civilized side was little more than an act.
“Anyway, I think we’ve gotten a bit off topic,” Lichter realized. “Tell me Faehorn, do any of your students show promise?”
“Hmm… there’s none that are completely hopeless and all of them should graduate the way things are going. Only three of the bunch show any real promise though.”
“Ah, that’d be the green-haired lass, the black-haired lad and the red kitty, right?” Hilda asked.
“Yeah them. Miller, shows a lot of promise, despite being an Empire-born elf and a power-leveler. I wish more people like him took time to study the basics rather than blindly rely on their ill-gotten Levels.”
“Isn’t the green-haired one Lia Torlee?” said the angelic elf, cupping his chin in thought. “The innkeeper’s daughter?”
“That’s her. She has great aim and superb judgement. I expect her to go far if she specializes as a sharpshooter.”
“What’s the deal with the kitty though?”
“Please don’t call her that,” Faehorn pleaded with Hilda. “She’s my precious student, and I’d prefer if you didn’t belittle her.”
“Bah, ye know I mean nothin’ by it! Go on, then! Out with it!”
“She’s… strange. I don’t mean the way she looks or acts, but the way she uses a bow. It’s like—both her stance and draw are good while her hands and eyes are steady, right? Yet I could swear she shifts her aim at the very last moment. As if she misses her targets on purpose, like she doesn’t want to stand out because of her ability.”
“Her Appraisal showed she’s a normal girl, right?” the dwarf hazarded a guess.
“That’s right.”
“Think she’s a Hero?” Lichter asked in a hushed tone.
It was a little-known secret that those chosen by the Gods could hide their strength from an Appraisal so as to not attract the wrong kind of attention. The only reason these three knew about it was because they worked with the Hero of Rain for a time. He was a raptor, a reptilian species of enlightened that had far more pronounced animalistic features than the various types of beastkin. Rather than a man with scales and a tail, he looked more like a crocodile that had learned to walk on its two hind legs. His kind oftentimes got mistaken for monsters by ignorant ‘smoothskins,’ which was why they rarely visited this continent. The one Lichter referred to was a special case since Heroes of Rain were known as wanderers and travelers first and foremost.
This particular one was also rather touched in the head, but that was beside the point.
“That’s what I thought too, so I tried to confirm it,” Faehorn explained in a whisper. “I tried attacking her from her blind spot, directing all my bloodlust towards her as I swung a dagger at the nape of her neck. I figured if she’s hiding her strength, then she’d avoid or catch it.”
“Oh my Goddess…”
“Sweet fuck, Faehorn!” shout-whispered the dwarf. “What if ye were wron
g and the poor lass was just a messed up kid?!”
“I wasn’t actually going to hurt her, okay?! I was planning on stopping short, maybe giving her a small cut at most, you know!”
They exchanged some difficult looks. All three of them knew what he did was a terrible idea that could have gone horribly wrong. That clearly didn’t happen though, considering how the girl was alive and healthy just a few hours ago. But even if they didn’t exactly approve of the man’s actions, Lichter and Hilda still wanted to know the outcome.
“So?” the dwarf urged.
“So, nothing. She didn’t even notice my presence until my dagger pressed against her skin, at which point she leapt in shock and cut herself on it. I managed to play it off as a training exercise, but…”
He shook his head in remorse before continuing.
“I feel really terrible for pulling that on her. I was probably just imagining things since I expect too much from her.”
Only truly exceptional individuals got chosen as Heroes—people who already had the potential to become legends. It was only natural a teacher would yearn to have such a promising individual under his or her wing.
“She’s honestly the most promising one of the bunch, even if her stamina is terrible,” he added.
“Wasn’t she the one that turned tail and ran like her life depended on her the instant the spar started?” Hilda raised an eyebrow. “Well, she still got caught in the end though, despite being a scaredy cat.”
“That’s exactly why she has potential. You know, I asked my students to think up of countermeasures against that golem ahead of time? Morgana’s the only one that had the right answer.”
‘It’s okay to run away,’ was the lesson Faehorn had been trying to teach today. Rangers often worked separate from others, as it was their duty to scout out the enemy, look for traps or ambushes, and locate targets of high importance. The ability to know when to withdraw and when to fight was a vital skill that could mean the difference between life and death for the whole party, not just the scout.
“Heh, she’s a scaredy cat! Hee hee hee!” Hilda laughed into her mug, clearly not paying attention to Faehorn’s words.
“Still better than that moron who just kept mindlessly swinging at the Juggernaut until her weapon broke,” mumbled the clearly irritated Ranger.
“Hey! Lola had the right idea, okay?” the dwarf snapped. “Mithril is stubborn, so it doesn’t crumble unless you really put yer back into it! She would’ve done better if her weapon was dwarven-made or Empire forged! Not this shitty Republic pig iron! No wonder you elves got your asses handed to you in the last war!”
The dwarf’s sudden outburst reminded the rowdy group that a war indeed loomed over them, and they grew quiet once more.
“Those kids will probably be sent off to fight, won’t they?” Faehorn lamented.
“Yes,” Lichter nodded. “Best we can do is prepare them for the worst, and hope they survive. Think we ought to start teaching mixed unit tactics ahead of schedule?”
“Aye, that might be for the best…” the dwarf grumbled. “I’m thinking of pulling some favors from my days in Horkensaft. Try and get me lot geared up in the good shit on the down-low. Enchanted Azurite, probably.”
“Don’t suppose you can spare a few of those armor sets for mine, Hilda?” asked the Paladin.
“I’ll try. Cannae promise anything though. Faehorn, any idea when it’ll start?”
“My contact in the government said they’ll likely hit us in a month or two.”
“What? Right before winter?”
Common sense dictated that forced marches during the cold season were tantamount to suicide, especially this far up north where the winters were harsher. Azurvale was still more or less comfortable due to the blessed hylt trees, but long-distance travel across the Republic would be halted until spring.
“Something about occupying a bunch of land and using the season to consolidate their power while the armies are unable to move freely,” the elf explained. “My contact’s an Underwood that owes me one, so I’m sure she’d never tell me anything she wasn’t absolutely sure of.”
He took a sip of his drink and gave the dwarf a humorless smile.
“Well, she does sometimes say ridiculous things, though.”
“Like what?” asked Hilda.
“That there was a ‘non-zero chance’ of the Sandman moving in to single-handedly repel the imperials.”
“Hah! Ye, right,” the dwarf snorted with laughter. “There’s also a ‘non-zero chance’ that a bloody meteorite was the cause of that hylt fire last night.”
Chapter Two
All That Glitters
Part One
“Aaah!”
Keira suddenly started flailing and screaming, waking both herself and the elf she was sharing a bed with.
“Wha? Keira?! Are you okay?” Rowana asked in a blind panic.
The platinum-blonde elf rubbed the sleep from her eyes and saw that red-haired beastkin breathing roughly, looking around in a distressed state and drenched in sweat. She calmed down a few moments later, then laid back down and curled up in the fetal position.
“More night terrors?” her girlfriend asked while gently rubbing her back.
“Uh-huh…”
“It’s okay, love. I’m here.”
She hugged the frightened catgirl around her waist and buried her face in that shoulder-length crimson hair, nuzzling against her neck. She didn’t know the exact reason, but this sort of thing seemed to happen every two or three nights. The beastkin had told her that she suffered from sporadically recurring nightmares, but couldn’t remember them after screaming herself awake. Being understanding and trusting, Rowana didn’t pry and merely tried to comfort her lover every time this happened.
Of course, that whole ‘night terror’ excuse had been just that—an excuse. In truth, Keira did not have dreams. She wasn’t even a real person, but a shapeshifting monster in disguise. One that was still learning to wake up without causing a ruckus. Although it had gotten better at controlling those outbursts as of late, it was still one of the things it hadn’t quite mastered. Hence why Xera told it to use the vague excuse about bad dreams. Boxxy initially questioned the efficacy of such a dubious cover story, so it was quite surprised how well it had worked out.
Rowana, as the succubus had determined, was a person of outstanding moral fiber. She was the sort of idiot that went out of her way to help those in need. Finding out that her new ‘girlfriend’ suffered from frequent nightmares had only drawn her deeper into the lie that was Boxxy’s public persona. Indeed ‘lie’ was the most accurate word to describe the character of Keira Morgana, as she had been invented almost entirely from scratch. Her name, appearance, past, and supposed personality were all fabricated. Admittedly some of those aspects were still works in progress, but Xera felt that she and her master had put together quite the convincing character.
There were a few reasons why the devious pair had decided against impersonating an elf. The main one had been Boxxy’s need to excuse any bizarre and awkward behavior while it settled into its role. Appearing as a destitute foreigner who was largely ignorant of elven culture accomplished that beautifully. Settling on a cat-eared beastkin in particular had more to do with Boxxy’s recent acquisition of the Cat Job via thoughtless application of Cadaver Absorption on an alley cat it had randomly stumbled upon. It was the shapeshifter’s way of convincing itself that the recent and permanent addition to its Status had not, in fact, been entirely worthless.
That aside, Keira Morgana’s profile had been decided on long before her appearance had been finalized. She was to be observant, bold, energetic, good natured, and rather blunt with her words, yet surprisingly shy and lacking in confidence when it came to intimate relationships. She smelled nice, had a pretty face with a cute smile, was a bit of a glutton, and was eager to learn more about elven culture and society. She came here to escape some traumatic event and forge a new life for herself. Her body
was lithe, agile and quick. She had a sensitive butt and ears, and got tired pretty easily.
This mixed bag of half-truths and outright fabrications made it easy for Boxxy to assume the fictitious identity. Any quirky behavior was just explained away as ‘Keira being Keira’ and any deeper inquiries into her past were met with a rude, angry, or gloomy refusal to answer. There was a lot more to deal with than the occasional social gaffe, however. The monster had to constantly keep track of a mental checklist of dos and don’ts, as well as making sure to properly restrain its strength, speed and endurance to levels appropriate for its public persona.
Also, its weight had been a difficult thing to hide. Being a doppelganger with a high Level of Biomass made the creature much heavier than it looked, and there was simply no such thing as a two-hundred-kilogram teenager. At least not one that looked as thin, short, and fit as Keira. It was the sort of thing people seemed to notice just by the way the floorboards creaked ominously under Boxxy’s feet. Thankfully, the shapeshifter had been able to come up with a solution—use an enchanted trinket that magically reduced its weight.
Unfortunately, the most potent one it could have made on short notice was a Steel Ring of Greater Featherweight. It reduced the weight of the creature’s body by 40%, which wasn’t enough for its needs. It couldn’t just wear two Featherweight rings either since enchantments of the same type did not stack. That would have been the end of that if Fizzy hadn’t suggested that Boxxy pair its new item with a Steel Ring of Greater Matter Disruption. The enchantment’s name was a bit suspect, but its effects had been to reduce the wearer’s mass by 40%.
The golem’s Artificer Job was a high enough Level to give her access to the Physics Skill. This ability gave its user a thorough understanding of gravity, inertia, thermodynamics, sound, and other such natural laws and phenomena. This was why Fizzy was not only aware of the subtle difference between mass and weight, but also knew how magic could screw with both of those parameters. As a result of her insight, Boxxy was able to overlap the two technically different enchantments, resulting in its overall body weight being reduced to about a third of its original value.
