Chapter 50: Chapter Fifty: Baldness and the Centaur Fetish

“Buuuut [Priestess], I don't want to go! I want to stay at the monastery. Why do I have to go?” a young Jessica pouts, her arms folded in a defensive posture.

The [Priestess] can only chuckle as she pats the pouting girl on the head, “Come now Jess, did you not say you want to be a [Priestess] when you grow up? As followers of the goddess Eir, it is part of our responsibility to help cities in time of peril.”

“But I don't like cities, they have [Nobles] and [Nobles] are always mean to me. One of them called me a little [Whore].”

The [Priestess] frowns now, choosing her next words carefully.

“Jess, they cannot harm you, they can only spout lies. These [Nobles] don't understand the good we do for others and are merely jealous, so don't let their words bother you. Instead, put your robe on, fix your hair and let's go. The other [Priestesses] are waiting for us.”

Jessica takes a moment, sighs and nods, “Ok Nafissa.”

Nafissa smiles sadly as she watches Jessica put her clothes on before taking her hand and moving towards one of several carriages outside.

Jessica looks at the carriages, old things made of old wood, pulled by just as old horses. A white raven is painted upon the carriage's walls.

Nafissa and Jessica enter one of the carriages in the back and the trip finally begins.

“So what are we doing? Where are we going?” Jessica asks after seating herself and waiting for the carriage to begin moving.

Nafissa takes a moment, placing her hands on her lap,” We are going to the city of Darren to help with feeding and healing those that need it. The city recently fought off a horrible plague, and many are still sick and hungry. We are going there for a couple of days to assist Darren in its recovery.”

Jessica looks at Nafissa, at the fake smile on the woman's face. Because that is what it is. Jessica knows that Nafissa does not want to go either but is required to.

Deciding that nothing more needs to be said, Jessica takes the chance to look out of the window, watching the scenery change quickly over the course of several days.

______________________________________

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

Startled awake, Jessica jumps up, almost falling off her makeshift bed, “What? What's happening?” she says, looking around quickly, her heart beating fast and her ears ringing.

Moments pass as she looks around, slowly calming down as she realizes where she is.

She is in her tent, a [Healers] tent, the place that she apparently fell asleep on after healing those centaurs that most needed her. Though she does not remember moving to her bed.

“A dream, I was dreaming.”

She frowns, still remembering everything clearly. The days leading up to that day…

“Mistress, mistress [Priestess],” a shout comes from outside her tent. Jessica scrunches her eyebrows. She gets up, finding that she is still wearing her clothes. She frowns a moment before stomping out of her tent.

“I told you to stop calling me that. Just [Priestess] or Jessica is fine,” Jessica exclaims aloud.

But, considering the looks of all those present, including those of the two [Soldiers] which are guarding her tent, it's clear her words have little effect.

Revelry. Everyone here has immense respect for her, you could even go as far as to say that they adore her. And that puts a bad taste in her mouth. It feels like a load of responsibility has been placed on her, and all she can do is lead as best she can.

Jessica looks around, finding all those who wear her mark, a red cross, kneeling on the ground, displaying their complete and utter respect and loyalty towards her. A loyalty which she had found to exceed the loyalty of those members to their Herds. If she ordered them to do so, those people would leave their herds where they had lived their entire lives without any hesitation.

The stupidity of this situation, especially considering she is technically still a slave, is not lost on her.

“Stand up and stop your stupid bowing. What is the problem?” she asks, staring at the diverse group outside of her tent. [Healers], [Guards], [Soldiers] have all gathered here to see her. Then she looks up, noticing smoke rising up on the other side of the city.

She sighs, already piecing together what happened and of course, the person responsible for it.

“You,” she points towards a centaur [Healer] who immediately straightens up at being called.

She walks towards him,” down,” she says, pointing to the ground. The centaur in question bends all his legs, his muscles tense. She moves to his side and hops on his back.

“Take me to the source of the explosion.”

The centaur straightens his legs with ease and quickly starts trotting in the direction of the explosion. Looking behind her, she finds a small army following her like kittens after their mother.

__________________________

The trip to the origins of the rising smoke did not take long on centaur back. As Jessica approaches the location, she finds an entire building destroyed and the building next to it moderately damaged.

But that doesn't faze her. Instead, she focuses on an area where a bunch of centaurs are gathered, looking down towards something on the ground.

“Over there,” she exclaims. Her mount nods before heading towards the specified location.

As she reaches the area, the centaurs standing around take one look at her before half of them panic and start to literally run away, screaming her Eir forsaken nickname.

She takes a moment to look at those that hadn't run.

“Oregan, Zoteal, Damair, it is a pleasure to see you all. I’m guessing that's him?” she asks, pointing at the somewhat charred corpse on the ground. The corpse is wearing nothing but a robe and rings.

“Yes, I do find it surprising that he still lives, especially considering the damage he sustained from the explosion,” Damair exclaims with a great bit of confusion.

“I’m more surprised that he was able to cause such damage in the first place. Destroying a whole building and damaging the others around it is quite a feat,” Zoteal adds, looking away from the corpse and towards the still-smoking ruins of the destroyed building.

*Cough*

“Can ahh, you start [Healing]? My body hurts a lot, and my eyes have been burned off., but somehow I can still hear you and speak. I still don ́t like pain however.”

Jessica looks at Quasi and his black charred skin. Few would have survived, let alone be conscious after this amount of physical damage inflicted.

“I see,” she says, tapping her mount, which bends down to allow her to slide off.

She movies to Quasi who turns his head in the direction of her footsteps. His eyes are scorched.

“What in Eirs name were you doing?”

Quasi smiles, revealing his somehow perfectly white undamaged teeth.

“Well, I learned a new enchantment called [Infernal Nova], and I wanted to put it on one of my bone daggers… Unfortunately, my daggers weren't of adequate quality and the cost to enchant them exceeded my maximum mana. My enchantment failed, and apparently that caused the skill to activate on its own. It exploded right in front of me. Luckily my robe took the majority of the impact. I was sent flying, broke through the wall, and crashed into the ground. I probably broke my spine somewhere along the way. And now I’m here, unable to move and in massive pain. So yea, I didn't expect failed enchantments to react so violently.”

Jessica can only groan from utter disbelief as she listens to his story. Quasi is a complete and utter genius, but he can also be the cockiest idiot in all of existence. Even more annoying is the cheery smile he has on his face right now. It is frustrating sometimes to follow him.

“Alright, let's see what I have to work with,” Jessica says, placing her hands on him before sending her mana through his body.”

She frowns.

“This is unusual. Your bones are damaged, but nothing too bad. I can see that your spine was severed and many of your ribs are cracked. Lots of bruising on your back, and your skin is severely charred. I understand the cause of those wounds since you said you slammed through a wall… but,” she takes a moment, looking down confused.

“Why are your hips shattered?”

 

***********************************************************

“Soooo, why are you giving me a report instead of Dragkenoss?” I ask Doreson as I move my dagger across a piece of bone, sharpening it.

Doreson watches me as I work on the bone dagger. Apparently, bones aren't actually that good at holding a lot of mana. Wood holds far more, but is physically weaker than bone. Therefore it tends to be useless for more advanced enchantments. Treant wood being a rather efficient exception to the rule.

Damn, apparently flying bone grenades was too much to ask for. At least I can still enchant them with [ignition] so I can stab people and set their insides on fire. Which is pretty weak compared to my new, much better enchant.

 

Yup, it took me several dozen tries, but I was finally able to learn it.

I turn to my left, looking at my two successes.

It is surprising really. Once you learn an enchantment, you can change many aspects of it. Even more so with [Static Discharge]. It is a rather simple enchant that turns mana into electricity and releases it. But since I understand how electricity works on an advanced level, I can change things like the amount of voltage produced or how I want the current to discharge..

Hopefully, Jessica will like her new present when I give it to her.

“Are you done?”

I stop, realizing that I have been staring at the hammer and spike the entire time. I turn to Doreson who looks very annoyed now.

“Right, sorry, you were saying?”

Doreson clears his voice before revealing to me a stack of scrolls, “Dragkenoss found himself to be unqualified to follow your specific directions and plans, so he has relegated that job to me. Although it seems you had already expected him to do so.”

I smile, remembering the first line I had written on the second page of my plan.

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“I sincerely doubt Dragkenoss will even read to the second page, so to whoever he has designated to read this on his behalf, I wholeheartedly thank you for the sacrifice you will be making.”

“So, what's the report?” I ask, going back to sharpening my dagger.

Doreson grunts and clears his throat, “We have notified all of the [Herdmasters] as well as the [Speaker] about the situation regarding this war, as well as your stance and the information you have revealed.”

“What is their answer?” I ask

Doreson opens another scroll and starts reading.

“The [Speaker] orders all military hostility towards Quasi Elude and his faction to cease, and a meeting of Herds will be held in two weeks. All [Herdmasters] are required to attend as well as the Patriarch Quasi Eludo. Those [Herdmasters] that have been captured will be brought and judged before the council. Their Herds will be temporarily under the control of Dragkenoss.”

He pauses, I nod.

“As I have foretold, and as it will be. Well, as it most likely will be. How are the preparations for the assembly going?”

Doreson frowns, “Perfectly according to your plans. We are making many carts and… carriages. We have also started the new training regime of the army. Military ranks have been created and assigned, everyone’s levels and skills are being documented, and the leadership is being formed.”

“How are the various factions doing?”

“The Gejan are following orders perfectly and without any incidents. Well, except for the one named Zorren, but you already mentioned in your directions that he would be a poor leader and should be left to his own devices. As for the various new herds, they are slightly antagonistic towards the reforms, but thanks to your recommendation of mixing the herds with one another, it is relatively manageable.”

Divide and Conquer. You’re less likely to disobey orders if you do not know those around you.

“How many have left?”

Doreson sighs before grabbing a different scroll.

“Approximately 22%”

I stop scraping my bone and turn towards Doreson confused.

That number is much too low. I was expecting almost double that.

“Explain.”

“If we exclude the [Healers] and those who follow Jessica, than the number spikes up to 51%”

Oh… wow. Well then, that was completely unexpected. A third of the army is now following Jessica.

“Thankfully, I talked to Jessica and she has asked all those with combat-oriented classes to join and train with the main troops.”

“G-Good. Wow, that was actually not to my expectations, but thankfully it worked out.”

I start again with sharpening my long slender bone, keeping a nice steady rhythm going.

“Now then, Doreson, I can probably assume that you read everything already. What are your thoughts on the subject of the dungeon monsters.”

I listen, hearing Doreson shuffle around while my eyes are fixed on the shard of bone. He is uncomfortable, and that is understandable.

“You lied to Dragkenoss. Their levels aren't increasing gradually, they are accelerating.”

I smile, ”Indeed, twenty levels in a single year is going to have disastrous effects. Combine that with the fact that awakened monsters have a tendency to create large herds, and you can conclude that this floor will die within a couple of years.”

The [Tactician Captain] frowns, “And when these herds of monsters form, an army will already have been created and be ready to oppose them and protect the Herds. But only those herds which swear loyalty to you. You plan on using the fear of death to take over the second floor.”

I turn my head, looking at the captain, at his fear-induced expression, “War has no rules. There are only victors and losers. As of right now, your species is fighting a losing war against the dungeon, and I am your only saving grace.”

“If I keep this information hidden, then many more will die. If the council prepares-”

“Ha! If you release this information, than even more will suffer and die. The council will make a shitty army with shitty leadership that will feed the ever growing monster army. If you need proof, then explain to me how three hundred [Archers] were able to kill practically half an army. Your [Herdmasters] are all idiots, and the class itself is the most idiotic. It doesn't even give bonuses to intelligence or any other useful stat that a leader could use. The class is a dead weight, and it will be removed from existence if I have any say about it.”

Doreson opens his mouth to reply, but stops. His hands tighten into fists, an angry expression forms on his face before he takes a long shuddering breath, “I understand.”

Licking my lips, I place the finished dagger on the table, “And that is what differentiates you from those [Herdmasters]. You don't allow emotions to sway you, instead, you use logic to make your decisions,” I move my arm up, using my hand to feel my hairless scalp, “But I warn you, do not ever get rid of your emotions entirely. Because if you do, you become less of a leader and more of a monster.”

Doreson looks at me, slightly confused. He opens his mouth again, but I shake my head.

I point towards the exit, “Think on my words… and if you can find some tonic or poison that helps grow hair, then please inform me.”

He looks at me, I look back at him, he frowns and turns around, trotting out of the building without another word.

*Sigh*

“Why does healing magic not regrow hair? I mean come on, the spell should just help regenerate the entire body, that includes hair!”

Whatever, it will grow back. It's just going to take a good year or more to get that length again.

I sigh again and turn back to the table, grabbing an unsharpened bone before beginning the sharpening process again.

“One down… several hundred to go.”

___________________________________________________________

Several hundred carts have been made over the course of several days, they have all been lined up and filled with resources that will be required for the journey to the summit of herds. A place where the [Speaker] waits for the [Herdmasters] to gather.

The army will be leaving the city in the morning, but until then, Oregan can't help but be restless. Once again, he is walking through the night, trying to ease his mind, but for completely different reasons than before.

Oregan’s eyes swerve from the carts, instead landing on an exceptionally large carriage.

A box with a door and four wheels. Such a simple design, but Oregan can't help but be excited.

For some odd reason, he and many of the centaurs gain such immense joy from pulling these carts. And he will not be pulling a cart, but the massive carriage carrying the patriarch and the tyrant.

A smile forms on Oregan's face as he thinks about how jealous the others will be. Even Dragkenoss looked sad when Oregan was chosen to pull the carriage instead of the grizzly centaur.

And then, just as quickly as his smile had formed, it is replaced by a frown as his skill [Detect Hidden] goes off. Oregans eyes swerve, looking towards the shadow of the carriage. When he does, he watches a centaur seemingly walk out of the darkness.

Oregon's defensive posture once again becomes a relaxed one.

“Arron.”

The centaur in question comes forward, allowing the firelight to reveal his figure.

“Hello father, you seem to be in high spirits,” Arron says, looking at the carriage that Oregan has been smiling at for the longest time.

Oregan frowns, “Why did you meddle with the enemy army? Your decision has cost many needless deaths.”

Arron merely chuckles as he trots past Oregan, taking a closer look at the carriage, “Leveling. Manipulating an army into a bad suicidal decision would help me get those last few levels for my [Spy] class. Unfortunately, I seemed to have stopped at level 99.”

Oregan glares at his son, “You can screw over others, but do not mess with the patriarch,” Oregan pauses for a second, “ and my carriage.”

Arron trots around, whistling as he looks at the carriage, Oregan follows behind his son, watching him like a hawk, “Funny thing that, your patriarch scares me.”

He stops, staring at the front of the carriage, “ Your patriarch was running through the night two days ago smiling like a lunatic. I was hidden in the shadows. As he was about to pass me by, he stops and looks directly towards me as though the sun was at its highest point in the sky..”

Arron pauses, lifting his hand and creating a fist with his thumb sticking up, “He pointed his hand at me like this ,and told me I did a great job and to work on my last level.”

Arron shakes his head, “ I don't know how, but he easily saw through my [Forge Identity] skill as though I wasn't even using it.”

Without realizing it, a hand lands on Aaron's shoulder, startling him. He looks and find his father, Oregan, smiling. A proud smile. From a father to a son.

“If the patriarch believes your chosen class is useful, then it means I have been mistaken about it my entire life. I am sorry about that… son.”

Arron looks at his father, his proudly smiling father, and is left completely speechless. All those years his father had told him that the [Spy] class was dishonorable, useless even. But now, just because the patriarch…

Oregan moves his gaze from his son, looking towards the carriage, “I have a big day tomorrow, so I will go rest now.”

The [Lieutenant Guardian] removes his hand from Arron’s shoulder and walks away, leaving his son to watch him walk away with his mouth agape.

Confused and flabbergasted, Arron shakes his head, slightly annoyed. His father is going to sleep now, but Arron is now too wound up to even think about closing his eyes. In one night, his world had been turned around.

“Fuck.”

One word, but not with a negative connotation considering the smile on the young [Spy’s] face.

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