Chapter 15: Chapter 14: His Starting Point II

Chapter 14: His Starting Point II

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[CORBIN VILLAGE - Inside the Wagon]

“Friend,” said Cain. There was not a moment’s hesitation in his voice. “Or... I guess a friend to your people. I can’t say I know much about the country itself yet.”

The shadow butterfly quivered.

Baal smiled.

“Excellent.”

Muse had taken the opportunity during the week to teach him a little about the world that he had found himself in, and one of those lessons involved the knight orders of Goethia. This man in front of him was a Grandmaster. Essentially a government official, and one of the highest ranking positions in the nation.

“You’re not upset that I said the people instead of the country?”

“No, that’s the far better answer,” said Baal. “A truthful one. You know nothing of our land.”

Neither Cain nor Muse noticed the butterfly shade take wing and return back to Baal’s shadow, getting reabsorbed into the larger mass.

Muse glared disapprovingly at Webby. The little spider looked up at her from his meal, white powder covering his mouth. His shot glass of coffee now emptied, the spider had gotten into the sugar cubes the way that .

At least the Grandmaster didn’t seem to mind.

“Now, I have an offer to give to both of you,” said Baal. “Join the Order of the Black Lamp as knights.”

Muse gasped.

For five years she had slaved away at her position in the Iron Bars. Slowly, her fellow graduates of the Academy gradually surpassed her in their careers, advancing steadily into full on knighthood. All this time she had worked diligently and quietly, and now it wasn’t even her own order that extended its hand in acknowledgement?

Tumultuous emotions collided within her. Words that seemed to come so easily before now chose not to make themselves heard. Even though some part of her was hoping for this, she didn’t realize she would feel so... complicated.

What should she do?

On the other hand, Cain simply stared. An offer of employment? As a knight? He barely knew what the term meant. From the way that Muse had described it, the knights of this world seemed very different from the knights he knew of in the old world. Less a noble title, and more of an occupation.

Military, navy, border patrol, and police. The orders that she had described to him did all of these things and more. Knighthood had nothing to do with nobility, rather it was the position of a civil servant.

“You need not answer right away. Give yourselves some time to think about it. If you need more information, Cain Thompson, you may ask Muse or myself. Ah, it seems our discussion will end here for now, then.”

A messenger was calling for them.

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[CORBIN VILLAGE - Corbin Estate]

They had been summoned by the village elder. It turned out that Master Saya had reactivated the bounty on McDougal’s head, and Cain and Muse were to receive two thirds and a third respectively. Cain for landing the decisive blow, and Muse for making that decisive blow possible to land in the first place

The reward was... Cain didn’t really have a measuring stick for how much things cost yet, but Muse’s flabbergasted expression told him a little something. The amount of coins he had received had dwarfed the amount he had gotten from the blue lizard hunt.

Cain saw no reason to refuse, and accepted the bounty gratefully. He’d make use of this later.

Muse, although her eyes had shone with the sparkle of gold, had tried to reject the reward. Considering it was a bounty put up by the Iron Bars themselves, it was rather improper for one of their own order to lay claim on it.

Master Saya had refused her refusal, and had bowed her head until a flustered and decidedly uncomfortable Muse had taken the entire thing.

Cain figured that the Iron Bar’s Master was very used to making people bend to her will through sincerity alone.

What a uniquely powerful and dangerous skill.

And so, just like that, another day passed peacefully in Corbin Village.

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[CORBIN VILLAGE - Inside the Wagon]

“Did they measure up to your expectations, Master Baal?” asked Ronove.

They were sitting in the wagon. Another pot of coffee had been brewed, and the two men partook of it while staring at the gameboard in front of them.

Tac. Tac. Tac.

Slowly and methodically, they played.

“As I suspected, Muse Aberra’s capabilities far exceed her position,” answered Baal smoothly. “Despite taking a wound, the fact that she managed to trade blows with McDougal and survive, even with a numbers advantage, speaks to her potential. That man was a true terror in the war.”

Ronove nodded. He had heard the tales. A single man who held the line at the Battle of the Dunes against dozens of barbarians. A hero to his allies, and a butcher to his foes.

“The few demerits she has earned all share a commonality,” continued Baal. “Interpreting orders somewhat liberally, especially if in doing so she has the opportunity to save lives. Youthful recklessness. A troublesome quality for a subordinate to be sure, but impressively true to the spirit of the knightly orders.”

Ronove didn’t know about that. Personally, he liked it when the pieces moved on the board the way he wanted. But Erioch Baal had his preferences, and Ronove had no desire to gainsay the man.

He knew his master had a soft spot for young heroes.

“I looked into the senior knight in charge of her as you asked, sire,” said Ronove. “Lord Nicolas Tempest, a son of minor nobility in the capital. A notable incident in his time at the Heraldic Academy involved the mistreatment and harassment of a beastman classmate. Some suspicious accounting implies that he might’ve received bribes from the Clearwater Brotherhood.”

Erioch Baal raised a hand to the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“The Brotherhood? Are you sure?”

“No, it is merely a possibility,” said Ronove. “Although there is situational evidence, a man of his position could easily explain it away if challenged. However, there are enough corroborating sources that there is probably some fire to the smoke.”

The Clearwater Brotherhood. An organization outlawed by the state, it nevertheless enjoyed a hidden popularity, especially in the southern provinces. Their position was a very simple one.

Human supremacy.

“So it is as we suspected, then,” said Baal. “Her career was dead-ended by the discrimination of a superior.”

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Shameful. Absolutely shameful.

He knew Kayde Wilson, the Grandmaster of the Iron Bars well. The man was not the type.

He was honest and forthright, and due to his upbringing in the Silver Seat did not shy away from the non-human races. However, the man had a tendency to trust in the words of his subordinates, and at times let the Masters of the order run a little too free.

The next time they met, Baal would find some way to broach the topic and let him know. The man would not take offence. Lord Nicolas Tempest’s days in the Iron Bars, however, might be numbered.

Well, their loss was the Order of the Black Lamp’s gain.

“Chances of Muse Aberra joining our order?”

“Very likely, especially considering the raise we can offer,” answered Ronove. “Reports indicate that the majority of her monthly salary goes toward her father’s medical care. If we add a stipulation to move him into a better environment for his health, I daresay she is guaranteed to become a Lampknight.”

Baal nodded. Good. The fact that Order of the Black Lamp worked in such secrecy meant that they did not have new recruits banging on the doors like the other orders did. They had to hire discreetly, and at times poach some underappreciated talents.

Muse’s case was ideal. The Iron Bars wouldn’t even know what they lost.

“The only possible snag we can think of is her contract with the Windmother. Of the orders, she is by far the closest to the Iron Bars.”

“Nothing to worry about. The Windmother’s domains include freedom. She will not bar the way,” said Baal. “I suspect Squire Aberra will consult her godmother at the Lifeweaver’s Ward once we make it back to the Silver Seat. She’ll give us her answer soon after.”

The game continued on in silence for a little while. Both men advanced their formations steadily, taking pieces off the board when they could. Ronove felt very confident in today’s game.

“And about the Player?”

“Cain Thompson.”

“Yes,” said Ronove. “What are your thoughts on him?”

Baal moved his infantry two spaces ahead. One of his favourite moves, Ronove knew, but today he had been ready for it and had made preparations in advance.

“He is exactly what I had hoped for, yet dared not expect.”

“Do you think he’ll join us, sire?”

Tac.

Ronove moved the ballista a few steps forward. He had been setting up this specific situation from the beginning of the game, and now his sire’s general was surrounded by danger.

“A Player joining the order would be a great boon, but in the end it’s a bonus,” said Baal. He took a few seconds to consider the board. “Our goal is the same as it ever was, to monitor and manage the risks of the Players. Him being under our employ would make that easier. If he ever becomes dangerous, we need to be the first to know.”

He picked up the lone spearman from the corner. It had been cut off since the early game, its presence hobbled by its allies’ own positions. Ronove thought he had successfully suppressed its possibilities.

“And if need be, deal with it.”

Baal moved the piece into place. Ronove sighed.

He was so close to getting his first victory against the Grandmaster too.

A butterfly fluttered in from the outside, its wings prismatic and iridescent. It settled on top of Baal’s coffee cup.

---

[CORBIN VILLAGE - Inside the Wagon]

Reymond’s house was on the outskirts of the village, located on top of a hill. It was a little out of the way, but Cain found it easily with directions from Jaime.

He had divided the gold that he had received into a few pouches.

Cain decided to apply Master Saya’s trick, and kept his head bowed until Rey was forced to take his share. The man had been, quite like Muse, absolutely flustered by the amount of money that Cain had tossed to him.

“I’ll take it! I’ll take it! But Cain, this is...” gulped the man. “You don’t know how much you’re giving me. This is enough for me to live the rest of my life off of.”

“Good,” said Cain, with a smile. “Now I’ve paid off the bow and arrows you gave me.”

He was out the door before Rey had the chance to change his mind.

“By the way!” Cain cried from the pathway. “Muse told me that there are mages and doctors that can regenerate lost arms in the capital! They’re pretty expensive, so who knows? It might not last you as long as you think!”

Rey ran out to the doorway to see him off. He brought up a sleeve to wipe his eyes.

In the past week, he had grieved his archery.

Reymond was an illiterate man who grew up with an illiterate father. Peasants since time immemorial, their ancestry and status left them with few privileges. No access to real education, no land or money, and few inherited skills of note except one.

The way of the bow and arrow.

Archery had always been the way of his family. From fletching arrows, to crafting their own bows. They were able to live off the land, and once the village had gotten large enough, be employed as hunters of both game and monsters.

Reymond’s fondest memories were of his father holding his hands, putting them in the right places on the bow. Of the hours they spent putting arrows together. His father gently chided him for his mistakes but never giving up on him.

Not just a profession. A way of life. Passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter in their line. Yet, it would all end with him.

Or so he had thought.

The idea of going to the capital had crossed his mind, yes. He had heard stories of some of the miracles achieved by the Lifeweaver’s Web, but the price tag attached to those miracles...

They weren’t a problem anymore.

His throat dried up as he stood in his own doorway. The black-eyed man was already turned around, making his way back into the village proper.

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