God Class, page 9
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FOur
The Pauper and The Deity
[Question accepted]
Not now, it was rhetorical, he thought back as sharply as he could before the voice could fill his mind with explanations.
The tunnel system seemed to stretch for countless miles, even if it had only been a handful of minutes. They were so dark, even when they would occasionally pass a dancing torchlight or campfire it would do little to offer extra visibility. Parts of the tunnel system were especially cold as if buried far below the surface and tucked away in frigid darkness, while others were humid and damp. Silas felt the goosebumps raise along his arms when they descended a small ramp, and the chilling air nipped at his exposed skin. Nervous sweat had formed while in the room with H’alik, and now it had come back to bite him, the cold wet sheet his shredded hospital gown acting like a refrigerator. He tried not to even think about the fact that he was completely bare underneath, or how his cheeks were just hanging out in the breeze behind him.
He was a bit more grateful that he didn’t have all that much meat on his bones, since his bare ass probably didn’t look like it would add much in a stew right now.
Both [Goblin Commanders], who Silas learned were named Imgul and Vigask, barely said anything to one another or Silas unless provoked to. Instead, they continued to carry him along between them with his legs just swinging limply in the air. It was as if their strength and stamina were never-ending, Silas thought, and his shoulders began to sting at the joints. The two continued to trot along on the uneven walkway of dirt and stone, taking only brief breaks to shout at sleeping scouts who were supposed to be on guard duty or something.
Silas was amazed at how well the entire species could navigate such a dark and mundane place. Maybe they were nocturnal? Every turn resembled the last, every long stretch was a shadowed silhouette somehow blacker than the one before it. It was a blur of darkness, the gray hues of stone walls and the shifting browns of dirt floors, yet the Goblins made their way along without issue or hesitation. Every few minutes Silas was tempted to ask if they were there yet like an impatient road-trip child, but then bit his tongue, thinking better of pissing off the comrades of the guy he had… well, ended entirely.
After a particularly long downhill stretch of tunnel, they approached a small cave mouth that had a trickle of firelight leaking from its entrance, soliciting a warm glow out into the hall. The heat radiating outward was miniscule, but Silas drank it in as much as he could. Cold began to wash off of him in tiny waves as warmth rolled through like a fresh shower. With the chill subsiding, it gave him a new awareness of just how badly his thin arms and frail shoulders felt from being hoisted the entire way from H’alik’s quarters to wherever they were. The glowing entryway welcomed them in, and he got his first sight of his new quarters.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest. A Somber Realization: One. Even a God can be disappointed! After feeling special for a moment, you now realize just how wrong you were! This is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Intelligence +1]
The quest notification said it better than he ever could.
It was not a room as much as it was another circular cavern that was roughly the size of a cheap motel room. At the center was a small flickering fire having a snack on two dried logs and enclosed with a circle of various stones. There was some kind of bedding set up around the wall’s edge which was mainly piles of hay and cloth scraps, and opposite the entryway was a carved tunnel that was so small a scout would have to crouch through it. The entire area also had a lingering odor that was part rotting food, part urine, and a little bit of unkempt body odor which caused Silas’s nose to wrinkle out of instinct. Hiding at the top of the walls, easily thirty or more feet, was a small opening that couldn’t have been more than a foot around. It showed a glimmering twilight overhead, mocking him.
It was still a beautiful sight, and probably necessary for the smoke from the fire, but it was not what really drew Silas’s attention. That honor had belonged to the older man, adorned in shabby red robes and sporting long wires of black hair, speckled with aging silver strands that matched his unkempt beard. His widening hazel eyes fell on Silas and a smile crept over his face.
“A human!?” He exclaimed and shifted off of the hay pile and on to his feet, revealing more of his dirty clothes and oily skin. He extended his arms out wide to either side of himself and raised his head to the portal of night sky above. With a laugh he shouted again. “A human!”
Rainier eyed them like cattle.
Each one sat stern in their seat, arranged around banquet tables like children’s dolls. White tables and chairs, blanketed in the fine red silk of Rainier’s table runners and holding the company of crystal wine glasses and piles of steaming food. Roasted chicken from the western Perlavore farmlands, buttered and roasted to a shimmering bronze hue, seasoned with fresh herbs and salts, held the center of each table. Yams coated with a dusting of cinnamon, warm loaves of bread delivered straight from the castle ovens to the tabletop, and steaming mounds of vegetables. Bowls of colorful fruit to rival that of a majestic rainbow, and enough honey wine to satiate the barbaric people of Valt’s Peaks.
Yet none of his guests moved for the food; none dared to.
They sat idly, each in a formal posture with their eyes trained ahead of them. Their hands clasped on their laps, their mouths shut, breathing maintained at a steady pulse. Men and women, adults, hungry and parched, did not move for the feast before them at all. This nearly brought a smile to Rainier’s face as his eyes made their way through the labyrinth of guests stretched out before his throne. He had an elbow resting on the arm of the throne, his head resting on his fist as if he were tired of the entire affair before it had even started. He would make them wait a little longer, until they were nearly ravenous and drooling for even a simple taste.
Some had ridden for days on only rations to be at that table, and others had plunged themselves through dangerous bogs or treacherous mountain passes teeming with creatures so full of bloodlust that they were lucky to make it out at all. Each had earned their place at that table tenfold. And yet, they would not be rewarded just yet.
After all, they were in the presence of Rainier. Had he not suffered more than they had? Had he not starved to give them peace, or agonized to give them the right to be amongst one another at all? Had he not united them under a single banner, and had he not rid their world of pesky would-be Gods? Rainier grinded his teeth and furrowed his brow at them. They had endured hardship, but not as he had. His blood was the cost of their wine, his tears the cost of their feast. Patience was their penance, and his own patience was atonement for the things he had done to be on the throne; to wear the crown.
“Nobles of Tartune...” He began, rising to his feet and allowing his depthless, ragged purple robes to cascade to the floor. “Warriors of Perlavore…” He said a little louder and extended an arm in front of him, motioning his hand as if painting the air. “Peacekeepers, world-weavers, and groundbreakers of Galleon! I welcome each of you to my home, and I thank you for your journey. For some… this was an ordeal…”
He lowered his hand and began to slowly pace through the entanglement of long tables and guests. He watched as they flinched at his movements, how they discreetly eyed him as he passed by. Good, he thought. A smile crawled over his face as he continued to stalk through their feast like a dire wolf among lambs.
“Battles encountered, battles won, and battles lost…” He began to speak again. “There are those who could not be with us today, who have given their very lives to be with us. We mourn them and celebrate them in turn tonight, this feast is as much for them as it is for ourselves. But, sons and daughters of the my Empire, we must not forget why we are here and the reason for our unity. The enemy is forever at the gates…”
“S-Sir…?” A noble man with a curled auburn mustache said and raised a hand. “My lord?”
The room froze, ice biting the air as Rainier paused and raised an eyebrow at the thin man. “Yes, Sir Harken?”
“T-Thank you my lord…” He said in a sputter as Rainier slowly wandered up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Harken’s tension seemed to ease, and he took a calming breath. “First, Lord Rainier, thank you for your generosity and this bountiful feast. But b-before we continue… I had taken note of forty chairs, each filled with a guest. I… I was curious about the ones that could not make it, my lord? Had they been replaced? I would like to know whom I am toasting in sacrifice tonight, Lord Rainier.”
Rainier smirked, a sea of wrinkles forming at his cheek and pushing his neatly cropped beard in its wake. He gave two firm pats on Harken’s shoulder then slid his hand across the man’s back and over to the opposite shoulder. “Well, that is a fine query you have presented, Sir Harken. Fine indeed. I believe I should commend you on your counting skills before I answer.”
A shallow, fearful laughter rose in a chorus around them. Harken nodded along and chuckled in turn.
“You see, Sir Harken. I had invited forty-eight guests in total and set a place for forty of them.” Rainier gave another pat, then his hand lunged for Harken’s throat. Before the young noble knew what had occurred, Rainier had his throat in his palm and slowly squeezed his fingers into the man’s neck. Harken’s eyes widened and he gasped for the thin trails of air before Rainier cut it off entirely. Veins bulged on the emperor’s hand, knuckles began to whiten as he applied more pressure, pulling the seated boy closer to him as he stood, looking out over the guests and continuing to speak. Guests looked to Harken, stoic expressions that told the young man that they would not, and could not, help him.
“I know these lands better than most, Sir Harken. I rode them, I conquered them. I spilled blood on every hill and in every forest. And being a…” He looked down at Harken, whose face had begun bluing slightly. “Benevolent ruler, I happen to know my guests almost as well. The routes you rode, the routes you all rode, were choreographed like a performance in our theater. Some may tell tales of my intuition, others speak of more… divine capabilities, but don’t you see, Sir Harken?”
The boy’s eyelids hung heavy; his struggle had weakened to that of a stuffed toy. The pulse that had throbbed in fearful triumph at Rainier’s palm was nothing more than a gentle, fading knock now.
“It is simply knowledge. It is wisdom. To know what is unknown is what makes a peasant into a leader, and what makes a leader into a God.”
Rainier released his grasp and Harken’s limp body dropped to the floor; any light that remained in his eyes had flickered out entirely. Two guards moved from the distant doorway and up to the fallen body, their plate armor clinking reverberated through the otherwise silent room as they lifted the corpse and hauled it back out of the room. A moment of silence washed forward, and no guest dared to even blink.
A breath later there was the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, and the silhouette of a new face approached. She was tall, muscularly built and clad in battle worn armor knitted with dark leather at the joints. A red cloak, stained and torn, hung at her shoulders and the hood rested unadorned from her head. Short blonde hair, choppy and spiked, and two eyes that were the cool color of glaciers. The guests seemed to gasp as silently as they could when she approached, covered in the dried blood of fallen adversaries and the dirt of combat, with one arm resting on the pommel of a sheathed short blade and the other gone entirely, leaving an empty void that was covered by the red cloak where the arm should have been; or had once been.
Equipped on her back was an enormous bastard sword that was more of a slab of hardened steel than an actual weapon.
She glowered at the emperor as she strode forward, purpose in her step and writhing fire in her eyes. The warrior took the seat once occupied by Harken, and the two guests beside her moved slightly to either side to make room for the colossal blade. She grabbed a bottle of the blood red wine and put it to her lips, taking a hearty swig.
“Fianna,” Rainier said and moved back towards his throne. “You’re late.”
She removed the wine bottle from her face and sighed. “You knew I would be.”
“That I did,” Rainier muttered and smiled at the assembled guests. “Well then, it looks like all of my anticipated guests have arrived then. We may commence the feast now and speak of war later.”
“I’m the first?!” The shaggy man asked, throwing another log on the fire before returning to his hay pile. “Where are you from then? What kind of land does not have humans?”
Silas chuckled and readjusted himself, trying to find some form of comfort in the bedding. The two lumbering Goblins had left them a few minutes ago, and Silas was not sure whether to chase them and plead to not be left with the deranged man or to just be grateful he wasn’t being brought to a slew of hungry scouts. The robed man had calmed down a bit after the first minute, composing himself and running hands through his hair and beard as if to style them appropriately. Yet, even with a bit more composure, he was still batshit crazy, Silas thought. He made no attempt to introduce himself and instead just worked through his fit of laughter before heading back to his bedding area. Still, his eyes rarely left Silas, as if locked on to him completely.
Silas nodded in return, gazing into the gentle flames of the campfire and smiling.
“My home had humans… or has humans. It’s just… well, it’s very far from here. Maybe. I don’t actually know… And it has different rules, different creatures. Certainly, no Goblins or tree monsters,” Silas said then readjusted himself again.
“No little green bastards? Sounds like my kind of place,” the man answered, a worming smile on his lips. “Do not know much about any tree monsters though. Then again, I haven’t spent too much time in the forest truth be told. Came in on an errand, just trying to earn a few coppers for a pint or two, then ended up in this palace.”
He rolled his eyes around their living quarters then rested his head on a hand and scratched his exposed stomach.
“Was it a quest?” Silas asked with a raised brow.
The man shrugged. “I guess you could call it that. The town alchemist needed Flex Flora, it is like a blue flower that only grows on mushrooms found in this forest of all places. Rumor has it that some strange beasts with glowing horns eat them, but it did not matter much to me. Asked me to bring back a dozen, but I must have harvested twenty or more before the Goblins showed up.”
“What was the reward? Experience?”
“Reward? Experience? Kid, I have no idea what you are talking about. The reward was six copper pieces and a warm bed for a night, maybe even a bath if I really charmed the guy. Unless that is the experience you’re talking about, but old man Ostanes probably isn’t quite as spry as he once was, so I doubt he’d be up to it.”
He paused, stared up at the opening in the ceiling, and seemed to talk to himself. “No. No. Hmm. Maybe. No. But… perhaps.”
Silas blinked twice and did not respond, dumbfounded and confused at the response. He shook his head, trying to ward off the idea that this disheveled man was harvesting mushrooms in exchange for sleeping with an old alchemist or something. He raised his hands, palms out in a defensive gesture, but the stranger just laughed him off after shaking off whatever weird conversation he had just had with the sky.
“You are uptight for someone your age.”
“Sorry, it’s just not what I meant.” Silas’s cheeks flushed. He quickly attempted to change the subject. “I guess I wanted to know your level? Or your class? I’m still new to all of this.”
Now it was the stranger who was dumbfounded. His mouth hung open, as if about to speak, then it shut. He repeated this three times like a guppy out of water before finally responding.
“I have absolutely, unequivocally, no possible clue as to what you are saying.” The man’s piercing eyes locked back onto Silas as if to see through him. “If you mean my age, well I’m thirty-nine to some, thirty-one to others. Do not think I can pass for my twenties…” His eyes softened, and he raised an eyebrow. Silas only stared back blankly so the stranger waved off the idea. “Never mind, forty-six is the true answer. I think… Anyway, I don’t know what my class would be but if it is a job then I would say I’m a… drifter? Traveler? Occasional mushroom fetcher or pub cleaner? Depends on the day.”
The odd man pondered a lot to himself, staring out into nothing and waving his hands whenever he spoke. Watching him made Silas tired, and wildly more confused than he had hoped to be in his first real talk with a human here. Still, he could piece some parts of the puzzle together.
This was all beginning to make some sense for Silas. Sort of. The internal mind voice thing had mentioned that it was a system created based on how he would most easily view progress. Silas was a gamer at heart, he was most nostalgic for the long nights of playing video games and tabletop RPGs with friends which would mean it would most easily translate to a video game style system. It was a bit of a trope, but he shut out that thought. Experience, levels, classes, and probably even basic stats were solely his way of viewing this strange world; he still was not convinced this wasn’t a dream, but he shelved that thought.
The voice had also said that the citizens of this world did not use the system when he wanted to know the average stats of children, but he needed to confirm it with another human first. He was grateful that it was not a child and that he did not have to explain the fact that he was barely approaching average for a man in his early twenties. This realization had shut out so many questions for him and for the first time since waking up in the forest he felt like he could think about something other than finding a human and figuring out the interface.
“Right, okay. That clears things up for me. What’s your name then?” Silas asked politely after a long beat of silence.
