The gray clouds began to dissipate, and the world saw the warm sunlight after an enduring darkness. It was the refreshing start of a new day, marked by the ticks of Ezran Clocks and the crowing of Twinhead Roosters. As the clouds receded farther and farther away, the bright light turned the horizon red and the sky azure. The golden rays traveled high above jagged hills, along grassy plains, and past moss-clad trees—before they finally drew a set of parallel lines on a sleeping face.

Vance opened his eyes with reluctance and groaned. He raised his head, still heavy with sleep, and looked at the other side of his underground room. I forgot to close the curtains again. He sighed. It was the third day in a row that he had made this stupid mistake, and he felt as if the sun was sneering at him for not learning. There was only one window—an opening with iron bars, much like a storm drain—but it faced the east, and so it flooded the room with light at the first hint of morning.

He turned his head away and closed his eyes again, but he wasn’t the kind of person who could go back to sleep at will. After turning right and left and beating his rough pillow twice, he finally gave up and left his messy bed. It never hurts to start the day early. He grabbed a towel and two buckets and headed up the stairs that led to the ground level. Then he walked along two rows of broken stone pews, watching the old but still colorful drawings on the walls. And outside the towering front door, he took a left and arrived at the well.

“Heave-ho!” Vance drew two buckets of fresh water. Then he took off his clothes and placed them neatly on the ground. After he relieved himself in the bushes, he used one of the buckets to wash his body. Then he dried himself with the towel, put on his clothes again, and carried the second bucket to the firepit. Touching a few branches, he made sure that the kindling was dry before he used the fire striker to light the flames. A thin column of smoke ascended toward the azure sky.

What do I wanna have for breakfast today? He placed a steel net over the fire and then put an iron pot on it. I will need to eat some Manaphobe berries, so maybe something that can go with them… He filled the iron pot with the water from the well. A few moments passed as he pondered over his culinary options. Before the water began to boil, however, he had decided what to eat. He sprung up and fetched wild carrots, potatoes, and leeks from his underground storage. And he didn’t forget the all-important Manaphobe berries.

Everything went into the boiling pot, and Vance sat waiting for the soup to be done. It’s such a beautiful morning. He took a deep breath and smelled the aromas in the air. I wish I had moved here earlier. He was in a clearing in the heart of Blackmoss Forest, and a curtain of tall coniferous trees veiled his home. Wherever he looked, there was only undisturbed nature. He could hear the water running in the sloped streams. And every now and then, a Royal Moth appeared among the trees. It releases hundreds of small moths from inside its body. These voracious insects can eat an orc alive. Combat with fire. He remembered the words of an old adventure manual as he met eyes with the Royal Moth. Then he chuckled and checked his soup.

It was ready. He removed the pot off the firepit and took a careful sip.

Status Alert

You lost 2.5% of your MP.

Bane Added: Mana Poisoning

Mana regeneration is impeded for 15 minutes.

Another sip.

Status Alert

You lost 2.5% of your MP.

The duration of Mana Poisoning has been extended to 30 minutes.

A third.

Status Alert

You lost 2.5% of your MP.

The duration of Mana Poisoning has been extended to 45 minutes.

Vance continued to drink until he was down to 10% of his Mana. That should do it. He put down the pot and stretched his body to get rid of his sleepiness. The rest of the soup went into the firepit to put out the cooking flame, and it evaporated into a suspiciously purple gas. Then he removed the metal net and looked up at the sun. Good. With this weather, it’ll be dry again at dinner time. He turned the pot upside down, returned the bucket to the well, and entered another staring contest with one of the Royal Moths.

The monster forfeited after around ten seconds, and Vance was allowed to return to his room. It’s good that they’re not very territorial. With a vague sense of gratitude to nature, he headed to the wardrobe and changed. Instead of the plain sleeping clothes, he wore a pair of belted pants, a brown shirt, and a black cloak. His shoes were where he had left them last night, and his socks were buried deep inside them. For the finishing touches, he sheathed a steel dagger into his belt and combed his shoulder-length black hair. After one last look in the mirror, he grabbed his brown leather bag.

On his way out of the room, he stopped at a wooden shelf. Five human skulls were lined up on it. They were all young with beautiful facial bones and well-preserved structures. One even had a full set of teeth. You might get a new friend today. Vance smiled at his collection. Wish me luck. He picked up a small duster and wiped two of the crania until they were shiny. Then he pushed them together to clear some space for a new addition. With everything in order, he finally left for Cromsville.

***

After a one-hour walk through Blackmoss Forest and a subsequent half-hour hitch-hike on a wagon, Vance arrived at the gates of Cromsville—the unofficial capital of human civilization. A queue of merchants and travelers had already formed, and the city guards were checking their papers and permits. Vance joined a different line, however, because he didn’t have any taxable goods or belongings. And he didn’t wait long until one of the armed guards called him. Accompanied by this guard, he walked through the city gates and into a small building on the left side of the street. There were three wooden counters inside, each with its own well-dressed city official.

“Your name?” the official behind the second counter said.

“Vance Wolfe.”

“A nobleman?”

“Just Vance, then.”

The official seemed confused for a second. She blinked twice with her pen suspended in the air. Then she laughed a little and wrote down the second answer.

“Your business?”

“I’m an adventurer.”

“We need to check your bag.”

Vance placed it on the counter. The guards went through its contents. They didn’t find anything suspicious, except for thirty Manaphobe berries. One, two, or even five wouldn’t have alarmed anyone, but thirty was bound to raise a few eyebrows.

“Are you going to sell them?” the official asked.

“No, they’re for personal consumption.”

The official recorded the answer and said, “They cause Mana Poisoning, by the way.”

“Really?” Vance leaned closer to her. “Am I going to die if I eat too many?”

The official laughed again and said, “No, but you won’t have any Mana left for your adventures.” She slipped a folded piece of paper into his hand. One of the guards cleared his throat, and she continued, “Welcome to Cromsville. Please obey the city laws at all times. If you are not familiar with them, we can lend you a copy of the Cromish Legal Manual—”

“No, thank you.” Vance interrupted the robotic announcement. He took his bag, made sure that none of his belongings were missing, and walked out of the building.

In the street, he unfolded the paper that the official had given him. It read: “You owe me one, smuggler. Stargazer Tavern. 8 at night.” Smuggler? He stopped at this word. It was both funny and mildly annoying, especially because he hadn’t told a single lie in the interview. Oh well, I can’t blame her. Sometimes the truth is just too confusing. He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it at an unsuspecting city guard—who picked it up, read its contents in amazement, and darted off to inform his commander.

I’m sure she’ll have a really fun date. Vance walked down the street and melted into the crowds. Great entertainment at Stargazer Tavern tonight. He would’ve gone there to watch the show from a suitable distance, but he had more pressing business, so he contented himself with imagining the different scenarios that could play out. There was no way to tell what would actually happen, but one thing was certain: the official would never mention his name to the guards, because if she did, she would be implicating herself in the imaginary crime that she invented.

“Music and Theatre and The Intellectual, please,” Vance said, stopping a boy who was selling one-page specialized newspapers. “And no, I won’t be buying anything else.”

“10 copper, sir,” the boy said.

Vance paid the money, took the two papers, and continued on his way. As he navigated through the street crowds, he placed the papers side by side and scanned their headlines. “The Girl Who Cried Wolf Now in Theaters.” “A Definitive Guide to Stats Distribution for Pyromancers.” “Iliev the Third Performs at the Bard College.” “The Ingenuity behind the Chaos Factor Calculations.” Nothing interesting today, huh? He was about to put the papers in his bag, but then he glimpsed a secluded article in the bottom corner of The Intellectual. It was printed in a position that wouldn’t give it much attention.

“Thomas Adler Reconciles with the Church

“The philosopher Thomas Adler has expressed deep remorse for his heretical views and received a pardon from the Cardinal of Cromsville. Adler has been imprisoned for two years after he had been convicted of second-degree heresy. It is expected that he will be released within six months.”

Having read the compact article, Vance folded the papers and put them in his bag. They’re finally releasing Adler. He stopped at a bakery and bought a loaf of bread. Well, this is something to look forward to. He took a bite and turned right into a more crowded street. By the time he finished eating, a human wall had formed in front of him. People were gathered in hundreds, and a thick column of smoke was rising from a point farther ahead. Vance hadn’t heard of any ongoing festivals or holidays, so he stopped a passing laborer and asked about what was happening.

“The Church is burning hundreds of heretical books in Townheart Square,” the laborer said, with an exaggerated tone of excitement. “And the Cardinal of Cromsville—Amirani bless him—is giving a sermon. If you don’t start pushing now, you’ll miss it!”

Vance watched as the laborer pushed and shoved and ultimately disappeared among the indivisible bodies. The public burning of heretical books was a rare event, and it was probably the only chance to see so much paper go up in smoke. But Vance was more interested in the sermon. I have an hour to waste thanks to that damn window, so I might as well make a little detour. He stood on tiptoes to check if there was an open path through the crowds, but the human bodies had already amalgamated into an immobile monster. If he tried to jostle for the front rows, he would probably drop his bag or even end up with torn clothes. There was only one viable alternative.

After making sure that his bag was shut tight, Vance took three long steps and jumped onto the outer ledge of a first-floor window. As soon as he landed, his knees bent again, and without losing any momentum, he jumped toward a second-floor window and caught its ledge with both hands. The owner of the house stepped out into the street and shouted at him, but he didn’t pay him any attention. Swinging sideways, he grabbed the edge of the triangular roof and pulled his body up until he was standing straight on the brownish tiles.

The way to Townheart Square was much shorter and easier from here, since he only needed to walk in a straight line along the roofs. He tried to attract as little attention as possible, especially from the city guards. A few eyes spotted him out of sheer coincidence or by inevitable accident, but no one in the crowds had the space, power, or freedom to mimic him or ask him to come down. He only smirked at whoever detected him, as if to test their self-control or worsen their frustration with their present condition.

When he arrived at Townheart Square, he looked down from the last rooftop at a rather curious scene. There was a wide hole in the ground. A fire burned and crackled inside it, and a group of priests were shoveling two mountains of books to feed the flames. The Cardinal of Cromsville was standing on a raised wooden platform that added a full two meters to his short stature. He was addressing the crowds, who gathered around him like ants, and it seemed that he had reached the most ardent part of his speech.

“Humans are born mediocre! Humans are designed to be mediocre!” the Cardinal shouted, with a guttural accent. “Our strength is not in individual power; our strength is in our faith and numbers! Remember, devotees of Amirani, we are blessed with peace and order because of our commitment to our holy creed. We do not kill monsters with our hands; we slay them with the hands of Amirani!”

The crowd cheered, and the Cardinal raised a blue book with his left hand.

“There are wicked philosophers and misguided mages who try to mislead you from the path of the righteous—dangerous fugitives like Albert Nietzsche. You must never listen to them. Erase their words from your minds, just as this sacred flame erases their books from the world. Free yourselves from heresy!”

The Cardinal threw the blue book into the fiery hole, and the crowds cheered with even more fervor than before.

“Humans are born mediocre! Humans are designed to be mediocre! And the likes of Nietzsche, the vain rabble-rousers who say otherwise, will be caught in due time, and they will receive their due punishment!”

Vance smiled a little. So they haven’t caught Nietzsche yet. He lay back on the roof and watched a lonely pair of thin clouds drifting in the sky. And this means that Adler exchanged these books for the pardon. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Not a bad deal for someone in his shoes. The rest of the sermon was a banal call for piety and solidarity. Blocking the sunlight with his bag, Vance napped for a pleasant half hour, even while the Cardinal bawled and bellowed.

***

When Vance opened his eyes again, the crowds in the square had thinned out, and the Cardinal of Cromsville was gone. The priests who had been throwing books into the fiery hole were now covering the cold ashes with layers of dirt. Good morning, Cromsville. Vance stretched his body and cracked his knuckles. It’s time for business. He jumped off the roof and landed next to a beggar. In the fifteen minutes that followed, he made his way through three different streets before he arrived at a building with a stone chimney and a half-timbered facade.

A sign above the door identified it as the Sunshine Tavern, and a pale flyer on the ground said that it served the best beer in Cromsville. A blond freckled 19-year-old was sweeping dirt near the entrance. When she saw Vance, she smiled and stopped moving her broom. It seemed as though she was about to say something, but she stopped midway between the first two syllables, bent down with remarkable flexibility, and brushed the dirt off her dress. Only after it was clean did she raise her head again and say, with her smile unchanged, “Good morning, Vance.”

“Hello, Bianca.”

“Are you working the day shift? I thought it was me and Lena.”

“No, I have the day off,” Vance said. “I’m just supposed to meet up with someone.”

“Adventurers?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll carry bags for some extra cash again?”

“No, I found someone who’d let me join a party.”

“That’s great!” Bianca beamed. “You’ll finally get the chance to fight monsters and level up. I’m so excited for you!”

Vance tried his best to smile back at her. His efforts weren’t very successful, however, and she continued to outshine him with her brilliant radiance.

“Are you nervous?” she said, after a short pause. “This is your first time joining a party, isn’t it?”

“Second time,” Vance corrected her. “I’m a bit nervous, but I won’t mess things up.”

“I’ll pray for your success.”

“Thanks,” Vance smiled. Then he turned away from her and scanned the faces of the pedestrians in the street. He was getting slightly impatient because it was already a few minutes past the agreed meeting time.

“What do they look like?” Bianca said.

“Who?”

“The adventurer who invited you to their party.”

“He’s a young monk.”

“Wears a red band over his eyes?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Vance said, turning toward Bianca again.

“He got here a while ago and sat inside.” She pointed at the tavern’s door with her thumb. “Really surprised me when he showed up.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Vance smiled.

“I’ll take your order in a while. Just gotta finish cleaning here first.”

“Take your time.”

Vance swung the wooden door open and entered the tavern. The atmosphere inside was warm and cozy. The smell of alcohol filled the air, but it was neither pungent nor repulsive. Most of the tables were empty because it was still the early morning, and even the tavern keeper was missing from the bar. The calm and quiet were in stark contrast with the nightly liveliness of the place. Aided by this quietude, Vance searched for only a few seconds before he found the monk at a table near the kitchen door.

“Benedict, did I keep you waiting?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Benedict said, turning his head toward Vance’s voice. “I’m glad you made it. The streets were packed.”

“Yeah, because of the Cardinal’s sermon.”

“Amirani bless him.”

Vance sat at the table and looked across it. The young monk wore long crimson robes that were tied at his waist with a twisted rope. His bag rested on the ground next to his chair, and his weapon, a bardiche with a silver blade, was slanted against the stone wall behind him. A thin brown ring of hair crowned his tonsured head, and the red band that Bianca had seen was wrapped tightly over his eyes. There was an expression of slight discomfort on his face, and Vance guessed that it was caused by the smell of alcohol, since monks abhorred the substance.

“I didn’t think I’d find you inside,” Vance said.

“Curiosity got the better of me,” Benedict said. “I’ve never been to a tavern before, and I thought this was my chance.”

“Did you order anything?”

“Of course not,” Benedict laughed. “Feel free to order for yourself, but I advise against anything alcoholic.”

Vance looked at the menu board, which was hung on a wall near the entrance. As he skimmed through the beverages section, he said, “So where’s the rest of your party?”

“They’re on their way. I told them to meet us here so that we can all sit together for a quick chat.”

“A chat?”

“We have another new recruit besides you, and it would be better if we got to know each other before we accepted any jobs.”

“I told you everything about me,” Vance said.

“Yes, but I still think it’s necessary for everyone to talk together.”

I don’t like where this is going. Vance sighed. They’re gonna waste my time. He didn’t argue too much with Benedict, however, because he didn’t want to lose his support. Forming a party was a strong commitment that required the party members to share their profit equally among themselves. It wasn’t easy for a beginner to join a pre-existing party, and it would take Vance weeks to receive a new invitation if he missed this chance. He needed to stay on Benedict’s good side, no matter what it cost him, and he only hoped that the future benefits would outweigh the present troubles.

After a few minutes of silent wait, Bianca served him an herbal blend—a substitute for the beer that would’ve offended Benedict. The first sip made his body shudder. This is worse than piss. He stuck his tongue out and grimaced at the bitterness.

Status Alert You restored 5% of your MP.

Restores your Mana and ruins your mood. Just great.

Vance reached for his bag and ate two Manaphobe berries.

Status Alert

You lost 5% of your MP.

The duration of Mana Poisoning has been extended to 352 minutes.

As he swallowed the last piece of the second berry, the tavern’s door swung open with excessive force and struck the wall with a dull thud. A cold draft circled through the room, and even Bianca paused and looked up in surprise. The rest of Benedict’s party had arrived.