Chapter 123: Popcorn

Year 139

 

The heroes made the journey to the Eastern Continent. This was propaganda, at least. 

 

“Miss Stella, oh great, you’re there! Where are you? Are you alright?” One of the heroes asked via a long-range spell, some kind of secured messaging spell service. 

 

Astia, or Stella was surprised, but she somehow quickly put on a face. “Oh, nice to see you again, Tom. How are you?” At this point, Patreeck’s mind reading revealed more information. She knew most of the kids that died with her! She was an administrative assistant at the teenagers’ school! She was acting. The role of the nice, supporting administrative teaching assistant.

 

“I’m... uh, I’m good. I think.”

 

“Are all of you together?” I could sense her forcing herself to make this conversation. 

 

“Oh, uh... Some of us are in the Southern Continent, and some of us are here in the North. But we’re all planning to meet in the Eastern Continent. We’re heroes after all, so we got to do what we came here to do.”

 

“That’s good.”

“Miss Stella Miss Stella, actually we just wanted to check whether you’re okay. I mean, uh... after that time with the gods, we uh... parted ways. Where are you, Miss Stella?”

 

“I’m actually in the central continent, in the City of Freshka.”

 

“The cursed continent? Are you sure it’s safe? Are they doing something dangerous or harmful? I hear they eat children there!” The heroes quickly said. 

 

At shit. What kind of propaganda the temples have been feeding the heroes? 

 

Stella smiled. I could sense she’s forcing herself to do it, but she’s also quite good at acting.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah! You should get out of there!” The heroes said. “It’s not safe for you.”

 

“Oh.” Stella acted blur. “I feel maybe I’m in a safe part of town. I should be fine. Where are all of you going? Are you safe?”

 

“We’re fine. We’re going to fight the demon king, and we have all these powers. We’ve been fighting some regular monsters for a while, and we’re strong!”

 

“Ah. Is that so. Good luck.”

 

“Okay! Take care Miss Stella. We’ll come and get you once this is all over.”

 

“Alright. Goodbye.” 

 

Astia breathed a sigh of relief once the magical videocall faded. She quickly curled up back in her bed. That act of hers consumed quite a bit of her mental energy and she needed a nap. How did she even manage to hold a job at school is still a strange thing to me.

 

-

 

The quality of news we received from the other continents steadily declined. We’re just getting generic news snippets, propaganda and such. Things that we can gather from a typical inn or tavern. 

 

The heroes arrived in the Eastern Continent after a month-long magically assisted journey, and began fighting the flying demons.

 

By now, rumor said the Eastern Continent had lost 50% of its population to the demonic attacks, and another 20% have been driven into hiding, living in underground networks. Again, really? Is this propaganda? 

 

-

 

“It’s not really our problem, isn’t it?” The nobles of the Central Continent said in a meeting. We formed another council of sorts. Personally, I’d like to call them the Nation of Tree-Friends, but they are not actually friends, just temporary allies due to targeted abandonment and neglect by the 4 temples. 

 

“If the demon king stays on the Eastern Continent, that’s good for us. We have our own problems to deal with, and now with the blockade, there’s even less reason for us to care. They’ve targeted us, so why should we volunteer any assistance?” 

 

A fair sentiment, one which I feel for. Some of the nobles delighted in the fact that the demon king kept it’s domination on the Eastern Continent. They felt like this was punishment for their actions. 

 

“When the Central continent faced demon kings, have the other continents extended their aid? The nations that do, I can count them, less than my branches!” A treefolk noble complained. Treefolk nobles were strange existences, they resembled mini-treants, and they were quick to switch allegiances to me, once it was clear that the temples no longer wanted to help them. A strange moment of speciesist behavior, even if it’s in my favor. “So, let the Eastern Continent burn. I feel for the period, but the decisions of the rulers have consequences.”

 

Is this how it feels like, to watch a terrible war unfolding across the sea? It’s a bit like me, watching an attack on foreign soil on television. It’s not my problem. Too bad for them, and serves them right. 

 

-

 

It’s been a few years since the FTC started, and we finally had the first batch of graduates. It took a little longer than expected, but the star student was a young noble from the Northern part of the Central Continent. A young mixed dwarven man, he started the programme as a Level 3 [Lordling], and ended the course with Level 19 [Lord], Level 6 [Knight] and Level 10 [Merchant]. A good start, and the growth was pretty good for 4 to 5 years worth of work. Especially the [Lord] class, which had conditions of the student doing ‘ruling’ things, like making decisions about the land and development. 

 

Still, I wonder how the [experience seed] worked when one has multiple classes? Does the level go to the class that they want? The experience seed clearly is overpowered in the sense that it gave a guaranteed level up, regardless of levels. Which was why I’ve been hoarding it forever. 

 

The drawback, of course, is that levels don’t always cover the weaknesses of real battlefield experience. 

 

Anyway, back to the young dwarven Lord. As promised, I granted him a special class seed, a [Trade Lord] class, a merger for [Lord] and [Merchant] class. If he took it, it would almost guarantee the merger of the two classes. He could, of course, give it to someone else in the family, and that person would start with Level 1 [Trade Lord]. 

 

The dwarf ate it immediately, despite his family’s objections. There was some complicated family tussle for power in the background, something I didn’t care for. It was a typical, ‘useless-son-suddenly-excelling-in-life-and-now-family-wants-to-claim-his-success’. He was, in other words, the fourth son who the parents thought was going to be a spare-of-spares, and now doing well. 

 

After his graduation, he approached Kavio, and the Freshkan councils

 

“I’d like to work for the Council and manage land on Freshland's behalf, instead of attending to my family’s holdings.” 

 

They couldn’t decide, since matters of land assignment, especially new lands, was usually my prerogative. I approved a small parcel. It’s a rough, recently reclaimed piece of land, with hardly any population. This young Lord would have to lead and build it from scratch, but he seemed to take it positively. 

 

This very act, though, seemed to have stimulated the appeal for the Freshlands Treetiary College amongst the younger sons and daughters outside the regular line of succession. A chance, by ‘merit’, to earn their own lands. On top of other existing ways of being a knight, achieving merit in combat, and have the King award some new piece of land. 

 

I suppose I made the family drama worse, but some internal competition is always necessary.

 

-

 

“It’s a shit job.” Edna said to Faris. The group of upgraded classers had some sort of a monthly drinking session. It was quite a big group. 

 

Faris just shrugged. “She clearly isn’t normal, though. The things she knows are very strange.”

 

“Thank goodness I can rotate with the other [Grand Knights]. I’ll go nuts if I stay with her too long.” 

 

“Is Aeon giving her some... uh... herbs? I heard the Patriarch tried using some skills on her, but didn’t seem to really work.”

 

Edna said. “She’s... like a child. Sometimes.” 

 

“You’re not older than her, though. She looks about the same age as you.” Faris teased. “But yes, I get what you mean.”

 

“She’s... like someone who’s afflicted with a curse or magical trauma. The kind you’ve seen when something really bad happened. But it’s different.” Edna complained over a mug of beer. They are both approaching their early 30s now, and are good friends, because both of them are first-generation upgraded classers. 

 

“What does Aeon want to do with her?” Faris asked. “Did Aeon tell you? Or it’s just babysitting because she’s from the same world as the heroes?” 

 

Edna shrugged. Lovis, the [spearmaster] just nodded. “I’d never imagine that the gods could summon someone who wasn’t a hero.”

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Luckily this was the Valthorn’s private bar, deep within the Valthorn’s Keep. Everyone here was a Valthorn. “Indeed. More so if it’s an accident.” Edna sighed. “She herself said her presence in this world was an accident of the gods.”

 

“Gods can make mistakes, too.” Faris shrugged. 

 

“I wonder whether that’ll get included into the Tome of Aeonic Commandments that the Pentadecarches are compiling.” 

 

The group of upgraded classers collectively groaned. “If you don’t mind me being absolutely honest, that’s honestly the biggest piece of ass-kissing I’ve ever seen attempted.” One of the [Grand Knights] present said. 

 

“What else do priests do, other than sing praises of the Deity?” Lovis retorted. “Just smile and nod, and we laugh at the way they venerate Aeon.” 

 

“Is that what the outer circle nations are saying?” Edna asked. The Valthorns internally categorised the neighbours into circles, in the same way trees have rings. The Freshlands itself is the Heart, the immediate neighbours the inner-circle nations, and those further out, the outer-circle nations. Again, it’s an academic exercise, there are many, many ways to slice and dice the classifications of nations and their relationship with us. One could use race to quickly make classifications too. For example, the treefolk nations, however small they are, have a far higher ‘natural’ loyalty to the Freshlands than the rest of the nations. This is simply because the treefolks, whenever they are in the presence of the [tree of prayer], or any of my trees, can quickly sense my power flowing through the ground, and so they do not doubt the extent of my powers. On the other hand, the human nations are a lot more wary, since they had a longer history of believing in the 4 temples. 

 

-

 

A familiar visitor came. She even had the scythe. The [Druidhunter].

 

“We meet again, Aeon.” Leithia was an old lady, now in her 90s, but to me, she looked like she had not changed much in the past 40 years. Most likely the influence of her class, so her aging is slower. She was the executioner of the Hutan Council. The Hutan Council, now a far smaller entity they once were. Many of them died during that long period of the Rottedlands, and the growth of the Freshlands and Valthorns also gradually whittled down their influence to a much, much weaker self.

 

After all, with Faris, my [Great Druid] and my group of upgraded druids, the Hutan Council no longer has a strong claim as the best place to learn the druid’s craft. 

 

She visited the Valthorn’s keep, and was granted an audience with the Valthorns. They quickly sent her to a special area where I had a few [tree of prayers]. “I suppose it’s strange, but... would you consider employing me?”

 

I thought about it briefly. “Yes. But not as a hunter, you shall be one of the Valthorn’s military trainers.” 

 

She accepted. 

 

Funny that our paths cross again, after decades.

 

-

 

“Glad to see you are still alive, executioner.” Jura smiled, “And the ages have been kind. You certainly don’t seem like you’ve aged, unlike myself.”

 

“I’m pleased that you still remember me, Counsel Jura.” Leithia bowed slightly. They sat in a small cafe in Freshka itself. “But that’s rich coming from an elf with a naturally long life. I believe I saw Councillor Yvon, as well?”

 

“She’s a principal, now.” Jura sipped on tea. “And certainly. One must remember the person who waltzed into our town and killed 4 druids publicly.” 

 

Leithia gave a gentle, grandmotherly smile.

 

“So, tell me of the Hutan Council. How have they fallen so far? To lose even their most feared executioner?”

 

“It followed the typical path, really. Greed, incompetence, arrogance and overconfidence.” Leithia shrugged. “How could druids compete with a few [great druids] anyway? Even our most senior [arch druid] is but one person, and certainly the way of the druids in the Hutan is haphazard, messy, very much unlike the structure of the Valthorn.”

 

“Some would say such is the proper way of nature. I have heard that the Hutan says the way we train our druids is ‘artificial’. Quite like a farm, rather than the wilderness”

 

“So they say.” Leithia nodded. “But in the face of the demon kings, a farm’s speed is superior. The large number of competent druids can churn out every year means the Valthorns can lose 10 for every 1 we train. The [archdruid] may be a damned good druid, and I respect him for that, but he has failed to lead us through the constant, regular monsoon of the demons.” 

 

“Then what brings you to join us? I heard from Aeon that he agreed.”

 

“I may be old, but I too, wanted to see for myself, this blend of faith-and-institution-and-might. They are times in legends of yore, that individuals must recognise the men, and the creatures that change the world.”  

 

“I would never picture you as the kind that could be inspired by legends, executioner.” They both chuckled. 

 

“Well...”

 

“Do you like what you see?”

 

“Too early to tell.”

 

-

Back on the Treetiary College, the commoners’ presence is now undisputed. However, there clearly is a large social gap between the noble-born children, and the commoners that joined them.

This was because, the Treetiary College is in function, a tertiary college. There’s a certain level of understanding that is implied, and for commoners, they lack this ‘baseline knowledge’. Unlike the Valthorns, who are educated from young, and unlike the priesthood, where the priests themselves do the task of educating them on the ways of faith, the FTC went right into management, military affairs and economics.

 

Quite a large bunch of the commoners who enrolled didn’t even know how to write, so they couldn’t even self-study if they wanted to. Most of them, as they are sponsored by the nobles, also have to run errands for the nobles, so the amount of studying time they have is actually very limited. Some, didn’t know things like mathematics, and have limited knowledge of the world outside of their tasks. 

When I opened up the slots for commoners as well, it seemed most of the nobles just nominated and sponsored their minders to help them. In some cases, some nobles appointed minders who knew how to read and write so that they can take notes. In most cases though, the nobles generally just appointed either bodyguards who knew how to fight, or just regular maids.

 

This wasn’t the intention, of course. I wanted an administrative class. A bureaucracy. 

 

These commoners struggled really hard.  In a way, they reminded me of my friends who had to work full-time jobs, and study part-time. Sure, there’s some learning, but somehow it’s just not as effective or immersive as a full-time education. 

 

It didn’t help that the trainers themselves are so used to educating nobles, that some don’t even bother helping their fellow commoners. 

 

So this gap in output also created and amplified the sense of superiority that the nobles had. 

 

I had to intervene, so I quickly demanded that Thordrock added commoner-specific remedial classes, meant to teach them the basics of reading, writing, language, and maths, which he did. 

 

-

 

As the year approached it’s end, I wondered whether the heroes are making progress. I hope they did. 

 

We honestly didn’t have much information. The blockade was a pain, and the navy still needed more time. Building warships and training sea-capable soldiers was taking far longer than expected.

 

So what if we broke through the blockade? 

 

If none of the other countries wanted to trade with us, what is the use of breaking through the blockade? 

 

We needed a strategy that looked past that, so, the first thing was, we needed a way to communicate with the other kingdoms on all those continents. Some may be open to trade and communicating with us discreetly, and ways to make trade happen. 

 

Alternatively, if we do break through the blockade, we must have a naval force able to transport a sizable army to capture and hold a port on one of the other continents. Only from there we can then restore communications and our intelligence network. 

 

-

 

On a fine day, near the end of the year...

 

[Evans Lake has died. You received a fragment]

[Agnes Ang has died. You received a fragment]

[Soraya Mahmud has died. You received a fragment]

 

Uh... the heroes are not doing well, are they?

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