After a while of telling stories and giving Perry a chance to talk to his family, the time for the feast drew near. Before we left the small abode, however, Mary and Edward stopped me.
“Lios, we wanted to thank you. I saw the battle using a skill and... I saw how much you struggled, how hard you fought. You could have run at any time, but you stayed and fought nearly to your death. My friend reached you first after that damned woman fled and she said you were severely injured, beyond just your arm. So thank you.” She looked like she was about to cry as she remembered the events. I smiled at her reassuringly.
“It was my pleasure. I have some amount of power, I’d be remiss not to use it for the sake of others. Please, think nothing of it.”
“No. We will not think nothing of it. You directly contributed to us retaining our lives, Lios. Please let us show our gratitude.” To my surprise it was Edward who spoke this time, though both Mary and Perry nodded in agreement. “Thank you Lios. You saved a lot of people that day, even if you didn’t do it alone. Your actions are the reason many many people, by count of three thousand, are still alive.”
“I see, in that case feel free to embellish me with thanks but don’t be surprised if I’m awkward about it. I’m glad my actions could mean something to someone.”
Perry clapped me on the shoulder, having to reach up and stretch to do so, and led the way out of the house. As we made our way back to the city square, the smell of roasting meat and vegetables wafted through the city. There were other spots, other clearings where tables had been set up, away from the center of town to better spread the people out. Barrels of ale were spread throughout the cobblestone streets and people were already sipping from tankards they likely brought from home.
Mary and Edward received a few greetings from people as we walked past, and I and the foxes received awed looks of recognition. I wondered what all everyone had been told about us, how many rumors had spread already. I forced myself to stand with my back straight, with Luka walking beside me and Sky curled over my shoulders like a scarf, warming th back of my neck. Perry nodded in approval.
It didn’t take overlong for us to arrive in the center of the city. The lord's wife, Derek Weatherlight, and several others in lavish robes stood near the monolith watching over everything. People were somber, at least if you didn’t look too far. Others were already deep in their cups, telling stories of their lost friends, husbands, brothers, sisters and so on. Laughter broke out from one corner as a man tripped and spilled his stew over himself. A nearby adventurer waved a wand and chanted his chant, cleaning the scalding food from the man's chest while playfully chastising him.
I approached the monolith as Perry and his ilk separated to enjoy the memorial with the people they knew. I felt a touch awkward, but thought nothing of it. Before I could reach the center of the town where the important people seemed to gather, a woman approached me with two tankards in hand. She shoved one into my hand with a glitter in her eyes, eyes that were red from crying but alight with a smile.
“Hero! You're the hero! Have a drink, don’t look so dour. From me and mine, thank you!” She clapped her tankard against my own and encouraged me to take a drink. I didn't protest and raised the ale to my lips taking a deep pull. It astounded me that nobody seemed to question me drinking despite my age, but social and cultural norms were different here. A boy became an adult at sixteen, and I looked close enough. Plus, I had fought for them.
The ale was strong, hoppy. It had a slightly citrusy flavor and a slight burn when it hit the back of my throat. I took a second sip and thanked her for the mug before she sped off to chat with one of her friends who was crying, sobbing while surrounded by other townsfolk. I was quickly interrupted a second time as I turned back toward the monolith, this time by a teenager around my age holding up a hunk of meat. It looked like the leg of a large bird and, while it had already had a couple bites taken from it, I took it gladly as it was offered. He thanked me profusely, stating he and his pa had been on their way to Ironfell when the cultists attacked and that because of me his sister had lived.
Finally, with my hand full, holding the handle of the tankard with my fore and middle finger and the leg of the bird with my others, I made my way to Derek, curious about him. As I approached he turned toward me, a smile adorning his face despite the tragedy we were here to memorialize. He had a cup of ale in his hand, though he only took the smallest sips.
“Alexilios I presume?” He called out as I neared.
“Yes, though I prefer Lios. Derek Weatherlight, it is a pleasure to meet you.” I had read briefly of the Weatherlight family while my mother was educating me about nobility and etiquette. His father was a politician and businessman that had been known for being fair. He had developed an orphanage with a schoolhouse in each of the major cities within his province, Ironfell, Herlon, and Dratton - colloquially known as Weatherlight Keep as thats where the duke called home. He also made sure to lift up the slums within his cities, to provide local farms with assistance, and even took in more knaves and prospective knights than all of the other noble houses.
“And I you. The Hero of Linden. I’m sure this event has been a bit of a shock, aye?” He took a small sip of his ale. “Unfortunate that we must meet under such dire circumstances. I’d love to hear of your part of the battle from your own words. I was unable to meet you at the time, but from what Adrien and his group told me, you fought against quite the foe. Care to elucidate for me?”
“Hmm. I’m not much for embellishments, sir, but I suppose I could tell my story a bit.” I took a quick sip of my ale before I told the tale. I started with using my companions to help me scout, to help me avoid enemies on the way to the longhouse. As I spoke, a small crowd started to gather around us. I started speaking a touch louder and even more surrounded us. I didn’t go into any details about specific attacks I used, or the fact that I was using spells and not abilities for there was a difference.
I told them about my short battles with the folks guarding the doors, though I added a bit of flare to make them seem more dangerous. I thought if I told them that the first few fights were over in a handful of movements they might think lesser of me, and they needed someone to look up to for now. Toil often led to a greater story, and so against my own words, I embellished a bit. Then, it came time to talk of the puppetmaster. At this point a few hundred people were listening to the story. It wasn’t a particularly long story, but with my added details and a touch of flare it had taken around ten minutes to get to this point. I added what Luka and Sky had done throughout as well, lifting them and their contributions up to reiterate that it wasn't only me who intervened, but my companions too.
And then I recounted the fight with the puppetmaster, my eyes washing over the crowd of people who called this ravaged place home. I talked about how she had used her mana strings to raise the dead bodies of those I had already fought, and how I had been forced to charr the corpses to prevent them from being usable to her again. I told of my regret in doing so, finding out after that they were merely mind controlled by the wench who I fought against. Then, the ending of our battle, where time seemed to slow and I was unable to land a fatal blow against her. How she was equally unable to slay me, but we both left each other to tend to grievous wounds and thoughts of revenge. I lamented her theft of my precious sword, my first weapon.
As I finished the story, I saw a few faces alight with admiration, a few with sadness, and a few still with anger. Be it at me, or the enemies who had desecrated this place, I knew not. I saw Perry and his family at the edge of the crowd, they had listened to the entire story and Edwin was staring at me in awe. I briefly noticed a notification as I had spoken, but I paid it no mind. There would be time for that later.
I turned to face Derek once more, who looked at me with an amused smirk, but before we could speak someone grabbed my left arm, just above my stump. I saw the person approach through [Portent] but my intuition told me they were no threat. Even still, as I turned to face them their hand flashed upwards and across my cheek. Standing before me was a middle aged woman with rage in her eyes and tears on her face.
“You sick bastard! You killed my son! You killed him and burned his corpse and you BRAG about it in front of everyone!” she raised her hand to slap me again but Sky growled, giving her pause. The slap had barely stung my face, but I had made no move to stop it even with having ample reaction time. I stood straight at the accusation and looked down at her sympathetically.
“I do not brag about his loss.” I said softly, but with the quiet that had befallen the city square I had no doubt that most everyone could hear it. Perry started to make his way towards us and Derek went to speak before I had, now he watched and waited. “I’m sorry if it seems so, but I do not feel any joy in killing those innocents.”
“You liar! You just told us ALL how you felt. You just spouted off the whole story for all of us to hear. Well, what did you lose? Your arm? I lost my fucking son and you are the one who killed him! Sir Weatherlight I demand retribution!”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“Madam, what retribution would you seek? What recompense would be enough?” Derek spoke before I could defend myself. For a moment my heart dropped, and I felt suddenly tired. She wasn’t entirely wrong, I had killed seven people that day. Seven mind controlled enemies who threatened the people in this town, but they were innocents under the mind magic.
“No, We will not punish Sir Lios for his deeds. He, his companions, they are the reason that you draw breath. Your son, and all those others that wore the mask, were not able to be saved. The woman who controlled them, the very person Lios here fought with his life on the line, had implanted a kill switch the moment the spell was dispelled. We had captured three such people and attempted to heal them, to bring them back, only for them to suffer and perish. So no, there will be no recompense and you would do well to understand that Lios here is not the one who murdered your child, it was the people who came here to sacrifice you all. Nobody else, understand?”
The silence persevered for several moments before the woman broke down crying on the steps leading to the monolith, where I had told my story. A few others approached nervously and started to comfort her, and she refused to look in my direction. Derek looked my way with a sorrowful expression before sighing. He raised his tankard and called out to the crowd, “While we grieve let us raise our glasses in thanks for the heroes who saved this town. Without them many more may have perished, many more would be saying their goodbyes today. Let us raise our glasses with pride and a vow to rebuild! A vow to take Linden back to its former glory! On my name as a Wetherlight, I vow to stay here until the reconstruction is completed and this city glows as it once did, and I am able to do so because young Lios and his party arrived in time to save this city!”
With that a large number of folk raised their glasses and took a hefty drink, myself included. I was still a bit shaken by what the woman had said. Sky, feeling my thoughts, licked the cheek that had just been slapped, having to wriggle a bit to reach it as she turned around on my shoulder. I sighed after my drink and fell into a silence, waiting for more folk to approach and tak their grief out on me as the woman went away with her friends, still angry but mayhap not at me.
Derek, instead, turned and started walking toward one of the few functioning taverns. “Let’s go have a talk in private, shall we?”
I nodded mutely, wondering how many adventurers my party had killed that day, how many of them were innocent like that woman's child. I followed Derek into the combination of stone and wood building, a tudor style construction with white walls held up by wooden braces and a stone foundation. It had glassless windows, though I supposed most buildings in Linden had those now. I figured glass was likely too expensive to repair in every building.
As we made our way over, I idly checked my notifications. There were only two, one of which was a level up for [Distant Recollections] that seemed to have been gained by remembering specific details of my battle. The second was a skill.
The General Skill [Story Telling] is now available.
Would you like to learn it?
Given its straightforward nature, I didn’t bother to read its description. Instead, I took a quick glance at my skill list and sighed. I liked keeping one space open for mergeable skills. I didn’t think I was being too much of a min maxer by doing so, just keeping my options open. Given that I only had the one slot for a new skill, I declined learning this one for the moment. I felt I would likely eventually take such a skill, though.
After dismissing the notification, my mind turned to the woman who had just slapped me. I frowned, thinking perhaps I could have acted a bit more hurt by her slap if only to give her a little, paltry amount of satisfying revenge. She was right. I did kill her son, and six others. I thought idly as I followed the elder adventurer.
We took a seat in the fairly full tavern, having found an unoccupied booth in a corner. I was finally able to set down the avian leg I was given by some thankful teen and hold my ale comfortably. I cracked my fingers against the wood, wondering what Derek wanted to talk to me about. I didn’t have to wait long. For a few moments, though, we simply sat and watched folk get drunk, play games, chitchat and eat. The din of the tavern was welcome after the uncomfortable silence that had fallen outside.
“Don’t pay that woman any mind.” Derek said after we had nearly finished our drinks. He raised a hand up to get the attention of a barmaid, who nodded and stepped behind the bar to fill two more cups. “The regular folk, they’ll never understand the type of decision you had been forced to make. They’ll never understand the moment of realization after you’ve killed people who are supposed to be evil only to find out they weren’t there by choice. Its a tough life. Its a good life, adventuring, but it is difficult. Less so, I’d say, than being a soldier of some sort but still difficult. We tend to glorify it, and so too do the people, but there are a lot of difficult moments, and a lot of people who need someone to be angry at. You didn’t kill her son, or the others, they died when they started killing their own. When they were taken from their own minds and replaced with puppets. So don’t pay her any mind.”
I listened in silence at his rambling, it seemed this was as much for him as it was for me. He was a bit long winded but over all I agreed with him. “Even if it isn’t my fault that the man died, I still have his blood on my sword. I still burned the body beyond recognition. It was a strategic move, but I can understand that womans and any others reluctance to laud me as a hero. I hardly deserve such a title, I did what anyone would have if they found a city in peril.”
“We both know that isn’t true. How I wish it were, but the world is not filled with brave or good people. It’s filled with people just trying to get by, and people trying to gain power by any means necessary. Filled with hatred and anger and so much more. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to beat a dead delogia so I’ll end that conversation here, aye.” He smiled at the barmaid as she approached with some more drinks and a platter of food. It was simple as one would expect from a tavern. As he made a move to pay she shook her head.
“Mr. Weatherlight, its a time to celebrate not empty the coin purse. Besides, how could Lonnis live with ‘imself if he charged the heroes of Linden? That goes for you too Mr. Lios!” She seemed a bit shy despite her words, her voice trailing off a little bit like she wanted to say more but stopped herself.
“Noted. Thank you.” Derek waved her off, tilting his head somewhat. “I actually knew the woman that you fought, if my guess at her identity is correct. She was to be my betrothed, an arranged marriage. We were both the children of dukes, both nobility. We needed to ‘Strengthen the bloodline’ or some nonsense. My father, at first was against the idea but he came around over time despite me not getting along well with Arabelle.
“You see, her family and mine are very different. The Fontaine family believes in power over people. They think that if one has power they should be above the laws held for peasants. If you have power you should use it, even if using it brings harm to the less fortunate of this world. That you should hoard knowledge and wealth such that nobody else can rise to power beside you. My family on the other hand, we think that knowledge should be shared. That those with power should protect those without. We spend frivolously on our peoples, granted we do still hoard a fair amount of wealth, but we try to uplift our communities as much as possible.”
I listened carefully, the moment he mentioned the person I had fought I couldn’t help but pay attention. I felt like Derek didn’t have many confidants here, I didn’t see him with any adventurer’s or family. It was just him putting out the fires caused by the massacre, alone. The lords wife didn’t seem the most helpful sort either, granted I had barely seen her. That could just be my prejudice against those of the upper classes.
“Arabelle and I, we were like oil and water. We were not a good match, but we both accepted responsibility for our families. We both wanted to do right by them, and to grow them. To bare an heir for them. We had already discussed having separate lovers and bedrooms. We already had our own adventuring parties. We had tried to go to the Wastes together once but we both disagreed so heavily with each other we started a fight that lured a dozen monsters to our location. Then, one day, she didn’t return from the wastes. One person came back and the rest had vanished. The person who returned was broken, his mind twisted. Barely coherent and unable to form a cohesive thought. We tried to dispel the curse that was placed on him, but once we did his mind collapsed on itself. We were left with a blubbering mess.”
The older man trembled slightly at the memory, rubbing a thumb aimlessly on the outside of the tankard before him. “I quickly recognized the spell that had wrapped itself around him. Arabelle and I had talked in length about her secondary class, about how it was unethical to use. She promised me she would find a way to get a different one, to replace it. To sunder her secondary class. When she was a simple puppetmaster it was fine, pulling strings was different from manipulating minds. Her particular class needs some time to become effective. She can sometimes control a mind without so much time but it expends a fair amount of mana. No, she manipulated her entire group and forced them into the wastes. I’m sure of it now but she likely sacrificed them, forced the one who escaped to provide an alibi for her by claiming she was dead, and joined with a cult of murderers.”
He ended the story there and we sat quietly for a few moments while I absorbed this. I looked up at him to see his eyes were a bit misty, he wasn't ready to cry but he was feeling some emotion. “I’m sorry for your loss in this. It sounds like you didn’t like her much but you still cared for her, so I’m sorry you lost someone you care about too. We’ll find this cult, you know, and we will put a stop to them. I don’t know how or when but they won’t get away with what they’ve done.”
After that, we drank and shared a few stories. Well, mostly he shared stories. We soon had a small group surrounding us, asking us questions about our adventures. These were people who grew up and lived around adventurers. They had already heard all of the stories through their years, but they needed distraction. Luka and Sky let dozens of people pet them, adoring the praise and attention. One woman whipped out a brush and started brushing their fur, and Sky sent me an ‘order’ to purchase a brush when I next had the chance. That was fair, their fur was knotted and it was a struggle at first, but once it was all untangled they loved it.
Eventually, heartfelt moments and dark conversations past, I found my way back to my own tavern. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and dreamed dark dreams. I dreamed of the woman, Arabelle apparently, taunting me. She laughed at me, telling me that I killed them, the people who were mind controlled. She named names, the ones that I had read on the monolith. And not just a few, but most of them. All that I could remember, which was most things that I had seen due to [Distant Recollections]. She showed me the faces of the survivors twisting in rage at my part of killing their brothers and children. In my dream, I was unable to think clearly. My heart hurt, my skull pounded. Tears rolled down my cheeks and guilt filled me, despite me telling myself it wasn't my fault.
