The old dy

  Good riddance.

  I saw her there. She wasn’t the leader, but the right hand woman, maybe. Not the one in heavy armor. Not wearing rags anymore either and no manservant in sight. The nice blond dy with the curious eyes, who liked to ask questions. She paid for them too, fed little old me, slipped a fifty when he wasn’t looking, helped keep me alive. They ignored everyone and strutted ahead like they owned the pce. Well, they did. Recognition sparked in her multicolored eyes and she walked up to me.

  “Hey there,” she said, “still hanging on?”

  “Oh don’t you worry about me young ss, I’m as tough as they come. What happened to your servant?”

  She ughed, “Gabe? Oh, he’s not my servant.”

  “I know, sweetie, I know.”

  “Wisdom comes with age, eh?”

  “I can see how things are.”

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “Things always change. Maybe for the better. Maybe for the worse. Maybe a little bit of both.” She considered my answer, and then smiled. This one understands.

  “How would you like to feel young again? We can reverse some of your aging, y’know? You won’t look the part, but it should be close enough.”

  An offer I couldn’t refuse. The devil didn’t wear Prada. She dressed in green-brown leather. “Deary, I’d do anything.” And I don’t doubt you’ll ask for everything. But that’s fine.

  “Good,” she pointed towards a confident, rugged young d, “go to Carlos over there, give him this.”

  A folded wrapper exchanged hands. Carlos had no intentions of hiding what it said, spying it out on the table in front of him. No wonder, it said nothing, instead dispying a perfect rge bck dot the size of a coaster. He tapped it and the circle faded away, revealing a word. Intelligence.

  How exciting. I always wanted to be a spy.

  He looked up and spoke, “First we’re going to have to get you some levels. Here, drink this. I’ll have Gabe help you up in a moment.”

  I emptied the vial and felt young again. It wouldn’t st, but something told me I needn’t worry about it.

  The restaurant owner

  I never forgot a tipper, especially a generous one. This one had been particurly memorable, the eyes stood out. There were two of them at the time, but the other was nowhere to be seen. She asked questions.

  Her voice was sharp, demanding. “Who’s your alchemist?”

  “All ingredients are prepared by yours truly, personally.”

  “I see.”

  My previous profuse thanks apparently meant nothing. They strutted about my Pce. Picking at food, telling my employees they were free, that they owed me nothing. All debts were cancelled.

  “This is an outrage! You can’t do this.”

  A trail of smoke followed the ingrate. “It’s just the way of things, y’know? We call the shots now.”

  “How am I supposed to run a business after this? You’ve ruined me.”

  “You’ll figure it out.” She decided to leave, just as quickly as she had appeared.

  The news had spread, D. was dead. But my pride remained, it was all that remained.

  “I won’t stand for this, you hear me!”

  She turned around, calling someone along. A man who expressed nothing. A strange sense of dread pervaded me. Not the kind which followed Ascendant, but something else, like a disaster unfolding in slow-motion.

  “No, but you’ll walk for it,” she said.

  The hard faced man grabbed my upper arm and dragged me out of my new life’s work. He handed me to another who led me to the outskirts. Their leader expined everything in public. We were to be exiled for causing trouble, for protesting unfair treatment, for giving opportunity to the destitute! They didn’t call us the saviors we were, the entrepreneurs, the ones who turned the wheels of commerce. No, they called us svers.

  They made good on their statements, forcing us away, one by one. Damn her. Where to go? A crude pack was all they afforded me, den with burgers and with nothing to drink. A sharp pain in my upper arm interrupted thoughts of sneaking back into Freeport. Pieces of my favorite sweater fell away. Horror overwhelmed me as skin dissolved, revealing fat and then muscle below. Screaming, heard by none, accompanied the exposure of bone.

  My trashing on the ground broke the fragile connection, severing my arm. It didn’t stop! The spreading agony consumed me, eating away until nothing was left.

  The skillshop guard

  A pair burst through the door, a man and a woman. Boss was caught by snaking white tendrils and dragged over the counter, eyes pleading for me to do something. No way, these are Ascendant. You’re not paying me enough to be a hero.

  She spared me a look. Raised eyebrows and perfect stillness were my response.

  Wait a second…

  I recognized the ivory pipe, the haggler and the smoker. Except she had the pipe and this was a different guy, much scarier. My tongue betrayed me. “Fancy seeing you again.”

  “Oh, you had so much here and I wanted it all, y’know?”

  The man lifted Boss up by the neck and threw him out. At least my common sense remained. “You’re welcome to it.”

  She smiled brightly, all teeth. “Thanks! Don’t mind if I do then. You’re not mad?”

  “Lady, I know trouble when I see it. A lot of things are falling into pce now.”

  “Oh, is that so? Can you be a little more specific?”

  Shit. No point lying now. “Two rich folk show up. One buys an overpriced skill, the other asks a lot of questions, like he’s meanin’ to stay. Then they’re never seen again. Makes a man wonder. Well, I don’t need to wonder no more.”

  She tched on, unrelenting, same way she bartered. “But you’ll be out of a job now.”

  Well, she ain’t wrong. “Suppose so. You wouldn’t have anything on offer, by chance? I’ll take what I can get.”

  Her eyes drifted upward while she tapped her chin in mock consideration. “We might, we might. You like sitting here all day?”

  “It’s a living. There ain’t much to it. D. and his gang hogged all the good stuff.”

  “Sounds like you’re looking for something a little more exciting.”

  Could it be? “You offerin' monster hunting? I won’t say no, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

  The dispy stopped, repced by something cold and calcuting. “Sure, killing Errant is fine work. But aren’t you tired of being like this? Wasting your days, watching as others walk away with the real spoils. The real currency. Power.”

  This was it. My big opportunity. “Just so there’s no misunderstandings, you want to recruit me?”

  “It’s not about what I want, but what you want.”

  “Sign me up.”

  She handed me a folded wrapper. “Can I have a look at what it says?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  A rge bck dot was all the mysterious note held. She directed me towards some guy called Carlos. Lord almighty, they were all Ascendant. Every st one. He tapped the note and it revealed a word.

  Soldier.

  The Holy Child

  I sensed the echo, again. The slowly rippling tapestry of ambient energy twisted once more, realigned and finally calmed. First an attack by the System itself and now a Greatbeast had fallen – the third one. Too close to each other for a coincidence. Some time ago, but not overly long, a few games perhaps. The Rhoq sughtered the first. The heretics took care of the second. My problems appeared destined to solve themselves. Perhaps a path worth pursuing?

  “Hesi.”

  “Yes, your grace?”

  “I have a mission for you. Travel for a week at Ascendant pace to the west. There, someone has struck out north and performed two great feats - they conquered a bastion and slew a Greatbeast. I wish for you to find out who, to assess them and report back.”

  “Assess as a threat?”

  “No, as an ally. The Rhoq continue to push their expansion, even beyond what they can sustain. They will csh against our borders eventually. The heretics will soon finish their preparations and cull the lesser settlements around them. Then they will come for us.”

  “Forgive my doubt, but surely you are strong enough to ward off either?”

  “Hesi, you know there is nothing to forgive. A pure faith cannot bear doubt? Nonsense. To grow power, one must not squander it. I intend to lead us to prosperity, not war. Strength is never certain, outcomes are always in flux. A single mistake can ruin everything, why should we risk making it? No, if we wish to maintain peace, we will require allies. While others antagonize all those around them, we will strengthen their enemies and thus win without lifting a weapon. Once the conflicts settle, none will be left to interfere with us.”

  “I understand, your grace. I will return swiftly.”

  “Make no haste, there is time still. Use it well.”

  “Of course, your grace.”

  And in the end, there will only be the one true faith, the one true measure of worth, the ideal of our people.

  Power. Expressed through me.

  I should sy a Greatbeast as well. But let them mature a little first. What pride is there in butchering children, after all? I will wait for them to cocoon and meanwhile forge an alliance or two. Once my enemies are occupied, there will be time for statements. Threats are the second priority, only then symbols. Study must always come first.

  My turned gaze inwards, reveling amongst the elegance, close to grasping something... The estimate of my combat level increased soon after. Of course. So that is how they do it.

  I went for a walk. This ancient design, everything with purpose... Yes.

  The Inheritor

  My wounds were slow to heal. Overcoming a Greatbeast had its costs. Yet there was more to strength than levels. The Errant disallowed bringing our true legacy and thus my regalia consisted of replicas. Three sets of equipment, each designed with purpose. They resided in the workshops, to be forever worked upon, to be constantly worked upon. No cycle went to waste. Would that I were capable of drawing out their strength in a true manner.

  A leader of my people, yet an ill fit for this, despite the sacrifices. Generations of wealth, consumed. Some measure of aptitude influenced final efficiency in combat, and I had it not. No amount of education remedied it, no amount of training alleviated it, and no amount of anything mattered. Despite my cking, we succeeded. The surrounding settlements would soon surrender, becoming vassals to our purpose. They would bor for our cause, to reunite our people once more. The equipment required more time, but the moment neared, the final confrontation.

  An ultimate decision, a mending of the divide, a contest of philosophy – expressed through battle.

  Finally, we had the opportunity to right ancient wrongs. How could they still follow a false ideal? Power was not all. Power was shallow. Power corrupted. Worshipping such invited disaster, camity, and inequality. If only our brethren accepted reason, even debate. Nay, they only saw one road. Their path, they called it - proven, by a Holy One, yet another one. The very embodiment of a false faith.

  Our hopes were purer, to free our people from this insanity. If not, they were certain to come for us, as they always did in the games. Thousands of attempts at reconciliation had been rebuffed, derailed with murder through the ages. They thought themselves superior, yet we were the same people all. Yes, those with talent appeared frequently. Yes, they were beyond the other empowered. Yes, the Errant sought to sughter them.

  But a leader lived for his people, for his legacy, for the future.

  One trait we all shared, the tendency to focus the efforts of all into few, and ultimately into one. No matter my policy, my decree, my edicts, they all desired the greatest go to me. Effecting changes paired with great difficulty, and they reverted in time. Three strata, always as the histories foretold, or perhaps described. Thus, we had the cd, who guarded and fought with me. Thus, we had the shapers, who supplied us. Thus, we had the sent, who did as they were told. Deviations were intolerable, only after resolution could anything else form. So I hoped.

  Confidence eluded me. It should have been an inspiring sight, gazing down from my grand tower, lined with metal and ceramic, with stone and wood, with fabric and meld. And more, all into one.

  The House of Chores, rger than all and where most lived. Only the outer walls, shaped as a square, adhered to any logic or reason. Within, all did as they wished, and only there. They built a haphazard scramble of constructions, of wood, of stone, of cloth. Remains and scraps, repurposed. My twin hearts suffered, for it was no way to live.

  The House of Links, a pyramid and the only one enclosed from open air. Windows revealed the shapers at their task. They busied themselves with scribings, alchemy, imbuing, infusing, enchanting, brewing, and the workings. From gssblowing to embroidery, from calligraphy to machinery, from engraving to jewellery, they employed all our vast knowledge. Sublimation neared our grasp, my grasp.

  The House of War, a circur building and where the cd strengthened themselves. It was the most curious of all. Small without, yet it contained more room than one might presume. Within, they tested themselves against artificial trials and against each other. They trained within the stone rooms, within painted void, always seeking to further challenge themselves. Alternating terrain and obstructions honed their skills. An endless assortment of materiel varied their lessons, familiarizing all with all.

  They shared a vision, instilled through history. Thus, what happened hence foretold the battle to come.

  The Inheritor, against the Holy One.

  Rhoq’eau the Elder

  The System strike nded, piercing through the world, clearing yet another bastion in my wake. Instead of returning to the emptied hollow of our greatnest, I loomed over the precipice which had led me here. A perfect cylinder dug down, wide as our home. The darkness seemed never-ending, as if to represent my regret. The two had arrived together, after all. It forked, exposing a multitude of potential targets within the many yers. For months, my rampage continued unabated. It will continue forevermore, fueled by ever more ascension.

  We should never have trusted the Errant. They knew what was coming. They knew they were but moments away from annihition. And so, they took all our young, and many of our old besides. No, we gave them away. Merely a few upticks of energy separated hope from folly. The other warriors refused the offer of my head, instead prociming eternal vengeance beside me. Stray thoughts wondered in shame what horrors my chicks now endured. What games the Errant pyed with them. What dark fate I urged upon my own. Rage called, demanding more death delivered.

  Deeper, then. I sense something there. Emanations beyond imagination.

  Forgive my pse of faith and guide me, oh great System, as I kill them all.

  My flock, try to survive, I will find my way to you.

  That I promise.

  And if I am too te, I will avenge you.

  That requires no promise.