Born a Monster

“Your account is some ten months in arrears.” Cosimo said. “And thus, is currently suspended.”

“But funds should have arrived to cover an entire extra twelve months.” I said.

“Whatever funds SHOULD have arrived, no funds DID arrive. The services of the Guild of Guardsmen, Porters, Drovers, and Linkboys is closed to you, sir. And when can we expect the sum of sixty one gold, nine silver and six copper coins that you owe?”

“That seems to be nearly double what I thought was paid.” I grumbled.

“Late fees were established in the contract.” Cosimo said. “The remainder is for gear which was not returned.”

I pulled out the coins I had in inventory. “You have my word as a Truthspeaker that those are the only coins I currently have. Two gold, seven...”

My throat locked up, and for a moment, I could not breathe, either.

“Two gold, six silver and eight copper.” Cosimo said. “Reynauld will be overjoyed that payments are being made, but be aware the remaining debt will continue accruing penalties.”

.....

“Please assure the guildmaster that I will resolve this issue, now that I am aware of it.”

“Quickly?” he asked.

“I am a Truthspeaker, and literally cannot lie to you. Getting the funds to you will depend upon how rapidly I can get access to those funds.”

The rest of that conversation can be guessed by anyone who’s ever owed a debt. So I was in no mood for Charisma skills when I got to the western checkpoint, to Sergeant Luro.

I especially was not in the mood to see him swaggering about with my sword on his hip.

“Sergeant Luro.” I said, “I’ll be taking my sword back now.”

“Men! Our escapee has come to turn himself in. Put him in shackles!”

What the heck? He could see my armor, bronze mail over leather over padding. It wasn’t impressive, and I’m sure the tiny wooden shield strapped to my left arm didn’t help. But still...

“You know you can’t maintain the narrative at this point.” I said. “Just give me my sword and let me pass, and you can keep your rank and position.”

I’d originally been meaning to put his life in there, too, but it seemed needlessly threatening.

“What are you fools waiting for?” Luro shouted, “That was an order!”

Where do these people keep coming from? The youths who passed as guards, the lazy adults, the sheer... In any case, I had warned Guur what would happen if they tried this nonsense a second time.

Guur had shrugged. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t do something like that the first time.”

As a child... yes, yes, get it out of your system.

As a child, I had learned to fight against groups of people faster, stronger, and tougher than myself. Three years of experience later, and I was the one with the advantage in statistics. And skills.

But mostly, speed. Things I had unlocked to fight with plains cats and pumas and terrors of the deep (and just crazy insane warrior people) were just ... abusive. I wasn’t hurling people through the air, to land broken twenty feet from the road, no matter what the eye witnesses said.

But it wasn’t even remotely a battle. I kept myself approaching Sergeant Luro, who at least had the good sense not to...

No, he ran. When two thirds of his men were down in various states of injury, he ran.

Running speed is a Might statistic, and I had hours worth of charges in Fleet of Foot.

“Wait.” he said, when he could run no longer. “This is about the sword, right?”

“This was about the sword.” I said. “Now, it is about your failure to perform even simple duties for the Red Tide Empire.”

And no! That bit about the stake is hearsay. I just beheaded him and left him there in the field. If someone else had the thought to put Luro’s head on a stake, then kudos for them. For my part, I had gained Rampage and Wrath and... I forget what else, but it wasn’t the sort of thing a well-heeled ambassador should be gaining experience in.

I would later learn that the west checkpoint became proficient, and also that it became a place to send guards in the hope that they would be forcibly and violently retired. I just know that it wasn’t the end of my troubles with them.

But that was the end of my troubles for that day. I watched a plains cat parallel my course for a bit, but a single message to see if it were Aware sent it fleeing into the nearest patch of brush.

I’d like to say that I made excellent time, but the truth is that I could only run for fourteen ten minute bursts a day; I wasn’t about to increase the number of uses per day on that.

So that first night, I pitched camp above a ditch. I’d been looking at farms, which had been increasingly spread out. But I could have feared bandits, if I’d been in a mood to fear. The moon was full, so it was time to report to Manajuwejet.

“Kid, I gotta say, the rage makes a nice cloak on your aura, but you can’t wear it too long. I’ve seen this before; the fires of rage will consume the soul if they burn too long without something else to consume.”

“I thought you were a scorpion, and a creature of vengeance.”

It is an odd thing to see a scorpion shrug. “More of a dish served cold guy, myself. But sure, let’s get you to Sobek.

“Good.” said Sobek, upon seeing me. “You are in the mood for another quest, then.”

[Sobek has assigned you a quest; kill a centaur shaman.]

I discontinued the normal messages, let my system store it for later examination. “Is there nothing else?” I asked.

“What else would there be?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“There are rumors.” I said, “About the people of Montu’s Glory, now Rakkal’s Glory.”

“I am not Montu, nor is Montu myself. But yes, he chafes under the ... changes your empire has made to a shining gem of his. I care not. Release them, burn them, they are all just heathens to me. Petition me for specific matters of vengeance, and I’ll consider each one on its own merits.”

“I’m not aware of any...”

He turned, slapped me on both sides of my face with a single tail slap. It’s a god thing, dream logic, however you want to view it. It wasn’t a physical thing, and thus not subject to the limits of the physical world.

“Do NOT force me to pick and choose.” he said, as I checked to make certain I still had teeth. “You were enslaved as a child, and the tribe that did it is opposed to your military. I expect no less than three incidents of vengeance from you, young one.”

“Against whom?” I asked. “Other than enslaving me, I recall my treatment by Clan Cloverhoof to be idyllic compared to what Wren and Nythia did to me.”

Sobek yawned, making certain to wave a hand at his face as he did so. “Three approved cases of vengeance. No less. It is long past time that you started walking upon my path. It would not be a bad thing to have at least one case before me by the new moon at the end of the month.”

“Fine.” I said. “Wren is already working in a mine for his affront. I name Nythia the drover, who once skinned me. I owe her an incident of pain.”

[You have been assigned a quest: Avenge yourself upon Nythia the Drover, member of the Guild of Guardsmen, Porters, Drovers, and Linkboys.]

“As you decide the others, let me know.” Sobek said, waving a hand in dismissal.

And unless negotiating salt prices with Gamilla was some manner of prophetic vision, I returned to the normal sort of madness that are my normal dreams.

On that next day, I came upon the sort of trench that only an idiot would mistake for a barrier. The spikes, such as one could call the sharpened branches within, were between four and twelve feet between them. Some were rotted, many were fallen over or working to reach that state. It was just sad, a waste of lumber and time, and possibly the death of many shovels.

Any centaur worthy of the name could easily jump the thing entirely.

To my mind, it was why this war had lasted so long, drained so many of our resources. A grandiose idea, something that looked good on paper, but which in the light of day had clearly not been done right.

Worse, I knew this “defensive line” ran from just north of Seacrest to just shy of the elven wood itself. Heck, Hortiluk had BRAGGED about this thing. What else was he lying about?

Had he been telling the truth about any of it?

A cold feeling rand down my backbone. What if, instead of ten thousand dead soldiers, he had ten thousand living soldiers, ready to ambush Rakkal?

My stomach grumbled.

Of course. There just wasn’t enough food here to sustain them, not over three years. At most, he had...

I had no clue how much food they were getting, nor how often.

But my stomach grumbled, and I set about foraging while moving toward our fortress in the plains.