Cloying mud stuck to the wheels of the cart as Liam wrestled the vehicle up a slight rise towards the gates of Glasgow, the low light of dawn illuminating the walls of the burgh in the distance. Still visible, flickering lantern lights hung between crenellations and flags showed the town remained in Scots' control.

As he walked, Liam had been worried that other forces may have laid siege to the town. He was glad to be able to dismiss his fear when he saw refugees moving steadily towards the gate. Their presence a sure sign that safety lay ahead.

The start of their journey from Cadzow had been easy, but as they drew closer to the safety of the town, more and more people filled the road, slowing their pace. The track, which had once been hard-packed clay, was now a swampy morass due to the steady plodding steps of hundreds of people.

Mud clung to Liam’s Mythril greaves and sloughed through his boots, causing his feet to chill. Despite the discomfort, his improved vitality allowed him to shrug off the sensation. He could feel blisters forming, but he cast Healing Song upon himself regularly and the sensation of discomfort quickly passed.

As they drew closer to the town, hundreds of refugees crowded the road, and at the insistence of Lady FitzGilbert, he’d stopped and helped load infants, elders and the wounded onto the cart. The refugees kept a wide berth from the moaning, soul-damaged forms of the two men but were happy enough to huddle together within the cart, protected from the winds.

A young man who had gained his sixth level and had high Vitality and Strength attributes offered to take the other side of the cart’s yoke, and the two men chatted about recent events. Liam discovered the man’s name was Brian, and he’d worked as an Armoursmiths apprentice for the last few years before gaining his journeyman’s position in a nearby Keep.

Discovering this, Liam felt compelled to ask what had happened.

“They attacked the Keep. My father and mother had moved there with me and took up lands with the Lord. We lived on a small farmstead east of Doune Castle. I killed one raider who tried to stop us and gained four levels. Two I’d gained from smithing.” He explained.

Liam had not heard of the place, but allowed Brian to continue as they pushed the cart onward. “The enemy came at night, so we were outside the Keep when they closed the gates. We had a choice; stay and be captured or killed, or we flee. Edinburgh was closer, but we came to Glasgow, hearing the King was nearby.”

“The enemy were demons?” Liam asked, hoping against hope that they were not the same armies he’d heard of from the Journal.

“Aye, bloody English devils and some Scots. They’re the Lord Balliol’s men, or so I heard. It sounds like he’s rising against the king now the apocalypse has begun.” Brian paused. “Do you think the King will help?”

Behind Liam, young Lady Claire spoke up. “Liam says that the King is ill!” At only seven years, her small voice chirped out over the rumble of the wheels. She sat in the cart's seat with her mother, overseeing the proceedings around her like the young noble she was.

“Liam says that there’s worse out there than English. He says that there're real Demons! He saved us from these gigantic green monsters called Orcs and a horrible fat thing called a Vampyre!”

Lady FitzGilbert, hearing her daughter nattering away excitedly, quickly hushed her.

Brian however, stared at Liam in awe. “You must be a skilled knight, sir.” He said. “I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just with all the mud on you…” His voice trailed off.

Liam grinned at him through the muck. “Don’t worry Brian. Only a few years ago, I was a Carpenter’s apprentice.” He paused, considering that. “Or a week, depending on how you look at things.” He amended.

Brian looked at him in puzzlement. Which is when Lady Claire once more pitched in. “Liam says God transported him to a different realm of heaven where he fought a troll and made all his armour, and because time moves different…” She paused, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “… he’s now four years older and at a really, really high level.”

“Really?” Brian said indulgently. “It sounds like he’s had a busy time of it then, milady.”

Liam looked over at him. The man was clearly indulging the girl’s fantastic ideas. Liam simply grinned and allowed the girl to continue. Her narration of his adventures providing some amusement as they approached the town.

She stopped after a while, eyeing Brian with suspicion. He turned and gave her a wink, confirming that he was not taking her story seriously. “You know he saved us? He fought orcs, and a Vampyre and a bunch of wicked men after they captured the keep. Then he made a deal with them so they’d leave, and he almost killed the Vampyre, and then he even healed us with holy magic, just like Jesus!” Her voice was angry now, no longer excited or full of joy.

“All in a day? You must be as powerful as Merlin to achieve feats like that! And it’s holy magic too?” Brian asked in mock amazement, clearly indulging what he thought was a flight of fancy.

“It is!” She said, now in a huff. “I’m sure it’s a holy magic though, because the magic the Vampyre did was horrible and evil. Liam’s magic is pure and glows like when we level!”

Brian frowned, suddenly suspecting the girl may tell the truth. The glow of levelling, reminding him that now almost everyone had experienced some magic, whether or not they wanted to.

Liam let him down gently. “She's not lying, Brian. But it’s a lot more complicated than the young lady suggests. You’ve heard of the Old gods?”

Brian nodded, frowning as he concentrated for a moment on keeping his balance in the muddy roadway.

“Well, I found this harp.” Liam brought up the vision describing the Harp of Bragi for everyone to see. “Bragi is not a God like some thought long ago, but an ascended being from another realm of Heaven. I was transported to that realm to gain his blessing. It turned out he sent me into a Crafting Dungeon instead.”

Brian still looked confused. “What is a Crafting Dungeon?”

“It’s an area where we can train our skills up and become more powerful.” Liam explained. “The one I entered was time-locked, meaning that while I was in it, time outside the dungeon remained the same.”

“You’re telling the truth?” Brian asked as he crossed himself.

Lady Claire nodded her head furiously. “He is. He even showed us some of the wondrous things he made, like his armour and his sword, and his dirk.”

“Aye!” Liam replied, smiling up at the girl. While her mother was still struggling with what had happened, the young Lady Claire seemed–if not more adaptable–more capable of dealing with their situation. Fortunately, it seemed she could not remember much of what happened in the Cold Larder.

“I learned how to Smith using magic and metals that I’ve not seen before and also learned to design new armour and weapons.” He gestured at his chest, grunting as the Cart bumped over a large rock.

Brian’s hands slipped, and Liam noticed the callouses on his hands were peeling, causing new blisters beneath. Liam cast Healing song on Brian without thinking.

Brian let go of the cart, cringing away from Liam as though he’d just grown horns and hooves.

“You’re speaking the truth? You learned sorcery?” He said in horror, before glaring at Liam. This was not the reaction he’d hoped for. “I’ll thank you not to casting your witchcraft at me, demon.”

Brian stepped away from the cart as Liam looked at him in surprise. He was about to reply when Brian turned up the road and, walking ahead, and caught up to his family. Liam wasn’t too upset by the loss of the help. The cart wasn’t particularly burdensome for him to push onwards, the only cost to him was the company.

He thought Brian was a kindred spirit, but now seemed like a superstitious fool. Liam tempered his expectations of others as he realized he’d had four years to get used to a world where magic was as common as iron. It would take these folks a lot longer to accept.

These people didn’t know Liam, didn’t know what he’d been through. Perhaps once they had more time to get used to the system and the world as it existed now, they would change.

If not, we may all die.

The dark thought came unbidden as Liam recalled the hordes of Damned pouring into lands far away.

As he pushed onwards the final few meters, Liam saw Brian whispering furiously to his parents and young wife. They cast surprised and fearful glances back towards Liam before turning and addressing the small guard force at the town gate.

Liam ignored them and continued on. They’d have to learn the truth of magic, eventually.

As they approached the Gatehouse, Liam looked up at the wall. He was surprised by what he saw. The Burgh did not have walls in any conventional sense, but instead the defences were formed from a series of buildings abutting each-other to form one continuous barrier. Atop the wall ran a wooden walkway with crenelations for protection and machicolations so that guards could look down at the base of the burgh.

Two archers stood peering down at the crowds of refugees. Their kettle hats and gambeson armour showing they were ready if trouble should present itself.

Within the gatehouse, ten guards in chainmail stood demanding payment from the refugees to enter the town. Most would be kicked back out into the wilderness come night if they could not find accommodation before curfew. Already, tents and makeshift shelters were being placed in the fields beyond the walls.

Liam hauled the cart to the gate and the passengers the Lady had collected along the way got out to search out their families. Once they’d debarked, Liam dragged the Cart into the gatehouse and was stopped by one of the taller guards.

The man looked Liam over, seeing his weapons and armour. “What’s your business here? You a Mercenary?”

Liam shook his head, about to answer. Before he could, Brian, talking to another guard, pointed at Liam and said in a very loud voice. “And then he cast a spell on me. As god is my witness, so he did.”

Everyone in the gatehouse stopped talking as all eyes turned to look at Liam.

Looking down at the guard before him, Liam became worried. The face staring at him was inauspicious. Sunken eyes framed a big beaked nose, recently broken, that hung above a thin-lipped mouth. A ropey moustache grew in wisps from the upper lip, and a distinct lack of teeth only added to the negative impression the man’s breath gave him.

“So you cast spells, then. You some kind of sorcerer here to do mischief?” The man’s voice had a strong highland burr.

“I’m here to see the Lord Bishop, in company of the Ladies Mary and Claire of Cadzow, and the Lord FitzGilbert.”

The answer took the guard by surprise. “Oh… ye are then?” The guard said, his lip curling in a sneer.

The sneer disappeared into an astonished recognition when he saw the scarred face of Lady FitzGilbert appear behind Liam.

“Bailee Simon, is that you?” She asked, and the man bowed low, his hand falling from his sword hilt. The other guards and commoners followed him in obeisance.

“Lady FitzGilbert!” The man stuttered. “I would have thought you safe with Lord Walter.”

“He is with me, but badly injured. Creatures from a nightmare took Cadzow by force. It is only because of the bravery of this warrior that we are safe.” She said, gesturing towards Liam. “God sent him to deliver us. We owe our lives to him and his efforts.”

Liam knew she must have noticed Brian’s earlier reaction to his healing and sought to ease any problems on that front.

“We seek sanctuary with the Lord Bishop from the evils of the world. Is he in residence at the castle?” The lady confirmed.

“Aye Milady, he’s in residence, although he’s preparing to leave. The Lord Douglas passed recently with news the King is ill.”

Liam couldn’t help but interrupt at the mention of his friends. “How many days ago?”

“It would have been two days.” The man replied, wary to make sure he avoided offending the friend of Lady FitzGilbert further. “They rode straight through the town after camping in the southern fields the night before. There were rumours they had a cure for the King!”

Liam grunted at the news. He doubted they had a monster core, but perhaps they’d discovered a healing spell or two as they assigned the levels they’d gained from Ferniegair.

“It would be well for us all if they do. The Lord needs healing too, and the young Pages skill is not enough to help. Is the town Provost at the Keep?” The Lady asked.

“He is Lady, he’s discussing matters with a Priest who was amongst the refugees. It seems the Balliol Pretender is raising a rebellion again. The English are besieging several keeps to the south, and there are reports Berwick is under siege too. Things are much worse than we’ve seen since the war.” Simon explained.

He stepped to the side and bowed to the Lady. “I’ll have a man bring horses for the cart now, milady. Then I shall escort you to the castle.”

Liam was stunned. If the English were re-starting the war with the Scots now, it meant that there would be little interest in less immediate affairs. He looked himself over and saw mud caked his armour up to the hip. Seeing this, Simon gestured over to a barrel of water.

“You can wash up there lad.” He said. Liam approached the barrel and broke the ice covering the surface. He then surprised everyone when, instead of dipping his hands into the water to splash it over himself, he gripped the barrel’s rim and base and lifted it over his head almost effortlessly.

The frigid water splashed down his armour, removing some of the blood that he hadn’t cleaned off after the battle. The water sloughed over him, uncovering they Mythril and Aesium from beneath a layer of clay, mud and grime.

Gasps and muttered comments filled the gatehouse as people glimpsed the silver metal sheen of his plated greaves, vambraces and coat of plates. The Aesium in his mail also drew attention as it glowed a light blue in the morning sun.

Brian’s family had been busy spreading the word about his magic, and soon the word “Sorcerer” sounded amongst the people. They shot angry glares his way, and it wouldn’t be long before someone threw a rock.

Liam knew he needed to stop this from becoming a riot.

A few in the crowd argued in his defence, pointing out that everyone had Magic now, and that if the system came from god, it must be natural, and therefore couldn’t be evil in itself.

Liam, however, had a better idea how to resolve the issue–at least temporarily.

“Who here can read?” he asked.

People flinched away at the sound of his voice.

The Bailee Simon stepped forward, as well as–surprisingly–Brian.

“Goodman Brian, are you a wicked man?” he asked, and Brian shook his head.

“I’m not. But I don’t know what wickedness you plan!”

Liam turned to the folk in the gatehouse. “You can all see he believes me a wicked man, and I cannot blame him for thinking so. The Church has long stood against the evils of Magic and Sorcery, but I am neither a Magician nor a Sorcerer.”

Liam brought up his attributes and opened them before the crowd. “I am Demi-Ascended and a Scion of the Line of King David of Israel. I am a Page of Lord Douglas of Douglas, and I am sworn to his service, and through fee, to the King Robert Bruce of Scotland!”

Liam brought up the text associated with the Race and displayed it, too.

He allowed Brian and the Bailee to read through the text. Brian shocked into silence as he read the words, but the Bailee read them aloud.

Demi-Ascended

The Demi-Ascended are the race of heroes from which the Ascended beings derive. Beloved of God, they provide hope and guidance to mortals in times of war and inspiration in times of peace.

Each level in this Race grants:

+10 to all attributes per level.

20% increase in skill gain.

Unique Ability: Realm Traveller

Liam allowed him to finish reading before he continued. The gatehouse had become silent and still. Many there crossed themselves, and a few knelt to pray. “I am human, like you all, but have been blessed by God. He sent me aid and granted me knowledge of ascended beings to aid the people of Christendom. I am on my way to see the King and gift him a gem that will heal his wounds. I have no doubt he shall then lead us to protect our lands and reach the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Liam hadn’t formed a plan of what to say, but as he spoke, the words tumbled out. They formed around his intent and spread amongst the refugees, filling them with hope.

“There will be many obstacles to overcome, but we must work together and be wary of the wicked and foul aspects of our nature. Only together can we overcome what approaches.”

Brian’s brow furrowed. “But how do we know the Church will accept the gifts offered by the Tribulation?”

Liam didn’t have an answer for that. “For now, we have to await word from the Holy See and the King. He and the Bishops will receive word from the Pope soon enough. In the meantime, we must make a choice for ourselves. Do we accept these gifts and use them to not only survive, but to protect other Christians from the Tribulation? Or do we covet the time before God changed the world and ignore his gift?”

“You can all see that the system itself tells I am beloved by God. It is up to you to decide now. Either you await the Church’s decision in these matters, or you accept God’s own words as truth now and risk censure from men later.”

The good folk in the gatehouse muttered as they debated amongst themselves.

Liam was walking a course close to heresy, but his words made sense. The visions he showed also seemed to provide some proof of what he was saying, at least according to the Baillie.

One man, whose family had travelled in the cart with the Lady FitzGerald, stepped forward. “Milady. You’ve known this man for a while. Can you tell us if he’s truly a godly man?”

The Lady looked down at him from the cart and showed the scars that marred her face and body, pulling back her hood to show them.

She was the least wounded of the FitzGerald family, but the knots of scar tissue spoke of grievous wounds to her soul.

“I swear to you all that Liam Lamberton is a good man, and that I believe God sent him to deliver us. He saved my family from torture and captivity at the hands of demons and monsters, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. He risked his own life and took wounds for us although we’d never met.”

She lifted her daughter up beside her. “He found us naked, wounded, and imprisoned. Liam set us free, clothed and healed us, and has protected us all the way here. He asked nothing for himself, but only gave as Christ taught. Selflessly and with thanks to God.”

“Were it not for him, my daughter would have died of her wounds. It was his magic that healed us, and his magic that drove the demon away. If that is not the act of a godly man, I don’t know what is.”

The lady showed the scars on her arms, and Lady Claire made a show of displaying her own, revelling in the attention and sympathetic coos from the onlookers. The crowd crossed themselves as they saw the wounds, and many of the women openly wept. Liam also made the sign of the cross, and this seemed to satisfy all but the most mean-hearted naysayers.

Brian awkwardly bowed to Liam as an apology, his face turning pink in embarrassment. Liam felt his cheeks also flush at the words of the Lady. He wasn’t all that much of a hero. He had fought hard, but then he’d almost succumbed to the Vampyre’s claw, and had only truly been there because he feared Lord and Lady Douglas had been captured.

Looking around, it appeared the crowd was calming, and as a militiaman approached with two draught horses in harness, Liam relaxed slightly. As he helped hitch the horses to the cart, he noticed Lady Claire peeking at him from over the seat.

“How did you do that?” She asked, curiously.

“Do what, Milady?”

“Show people the visions. I can’t read mine too well yet.” She sniffed with the cold, cuffing at her nose in an unladylike manner.

“All you have to do is want to show it. Somehow the system knows and will show it if you can see it.”

She tried, and the vision of her attributes appeared before them both.

Statistics Tablet of Claire FitzGerald

Titles: Lady

Name: Claire FitzGerald

Level: 2

Race: Human

Class: None

Age: 7

Tribulation Experience: 32/156

Health: 40

Magic: 210

Stamina: 100

Available Attribute: 6

Strength: 3 +

Agility: 5 +

Vitality: 4 +

Intelligence: 11 +

Wisdom: 5 +

Charisma: 16 +

Luck: 8 +

Faith: 14 +

Will: 21 +

Skills:

Writing: 1

Swimming: 1

Manners: 32

Tactics: 2

Housekeeping: 10

Light Armor: 4

Riding: 1

Athletics: 5

Chivalry: 4

Reading: 1

Maintenance: 2

Mathematics: 8

Drawing: 22

Cartography: 18

Liam looked over her statistics, which were impressive for so young a girl. She was older than she looked. Likely a result of her time imprisoned by the Vampyre, but if she had some good food and time to re-grow her strength, she would look her age. Right now, she looked like an emaciated five-year-old.

It impressed Liam at how high her will was. Her Magic level was high, and he wondered if he could teach her any of the spells he’d learnt. He would have to ask, but not now.

“How did you get to level two?” He asked.

“Drawing.” She said. “It surprised Mama and Papa when I suddenly became aglow.”

“And what did you draw that gave you a level?” Liam asked.

“A map.” She said cheerfully, describing what she’d done.

The Map she’d drawn was of Cadzow Castle and the surrounding Land. She’d drawn a grid over the castle and, from some calculations in the margin. It surprised Liam when she described how she’d even worked out the thickness of the walls.

“This is impressive work, milady!” Liam complimented her with raised eyebrows. “When you’d completed the map, you received a level?”

Lady Claire blushed at the compliment. “Yes. It surprised Mama and Papa when I suddenly glowed. We’d all seen the visions of the Tribulation but did not know what they meant. We’d only started working it out when we were attacked. Father and Mother both gained a level when they killed some goblins that came over the wall, but when they opened the gate, the Orcs broke through the men and…”

She stopped talking for a moment as her voice choked up. Liam knew now was a good time not to press the discussion. He’d heard of how the attack progressed from Lady Mary as he pushed the cart. It had been a bloody affair.

Changing the subject, Liam focused on her progress. “I can see from your statistics that you haven’t assigned your attributes yet.”

He paused, waiting for the inevitable question, having noticed that the girl’s mother was listening intently, as were many of the refugees.

“How do I assign attributes?”

Bailee Simon interrupted with the answer. “You simply think hard about the sign of the cross next to the attribute you want to increase, then think how many of your available attributes you want to assign.”

“You want to be sure that you know what you’re increasing. To learn more about what the attributes do, simply inspect the attribute you want to know more about. If you can’t read, we’ve set up classes in the cathedral. Go there, but in the meantime, put your available attributes into intelligence. It’s the first attribute in the middle going left to right.”

Liam nodded and watched as a few people in the crowd suddenly clutched at their heads. Their reaction caused the Bailee to grin. “Do it slowly, or else you’ll get a headache like when you suck on snow.”

“Who told you that?” Liam asked, a small smile on his lips.

Simon shrugged. “It was the men Lord Douglas left behind. Their wounds healed within a day. Never seen the like before. They’ve been training the militia and Bishops guard in how to fight with the system. Assigning attributes was one of the first things they taught us. That, and rat-hunting. I dare say there’s not one rodent now between here and the river.”

Liam was about to ask where the Douglas Men-at-Arms were, but the Bailee continued, “Pat and Fergus are about here somewhere. Usually, they break their fast at the Muthill Tavern. It is just down the way.” He pointed off to his right as he faced Liam. “You’ll be able to see the castle and the cathedral from anywhere in town, so don’t fear getting lost.”

Liam thanked the Bailee and had not taken two steps from the cart when Lady Claire called out. “Wait Liam! Mother, can I go with Page Lamberton? I could fetch Mistress McDonell to you as well!” Her voice was pleading.

Lady Mary frowned at her daughter. “It is not your place to run errands, but I would be grateful if you could see her and see about buying some good riding boots for us both. We will need them for the journey ahead.”

She turned to Liam. “You are not in my service, Liam, but I would be grateful if you could take her. The distraction will help, and I have a few things to attend on behalf of my husband and the other poor fellow.”

Liam gave a nod of assent, and the Lady handed her daughter a purse as Bailee Simon detailed off a guard to follow them.

Entering the town, Liam looked about. The buildings were all of stone with slate roofing, while the roads were paved and guttered so that water was channelled through the middle of the wide street. Signs hung over doors of important buildings and shops, while others were bare, and likely simple workshops or residencies for the production of materials or art.

The streets were quiet in the chill of dawn except for a few refugees performing their morning ablutions and the occasional guard on patrol.

The cobbled streets were cold and hard, so much so that Lady Claire was shivering after only a few yards. Liam turned as he heard the chattering of small teeth and took a moment to gather her up in his arms. Then he cast Flame in front of him and held it so the magical fire warmed the slight form in his arms.

She grinned up at him as he broke into a light jog, forcing the guard to run to keep up. “Thank you, Liam.” She said, the fire warming her. She sounded miserable, and Liam recalled a game he’d seen Duncan playing when he’d been made to look after his niece.

“Oh, don’t thank me just yet, Lady Claire. I don’t know what skills you have, but have you learned to fly yet?”

The girl frowned at him. “What do you mean fl…..”

Liam grinned and tossed the girl into the air. A brief scream replaced her gasp of shock as she flew a few yards into the air before falling into the safety of Liam’s arms once more. Soon the girl was shrieking with laughter every time he threw her high into the air, only to catch her once more before she hit the ground.

“Higher! Higher!” she shouted, all dark thoughts forgotten for the moment.

The spectacle caused people to stop and watch in a mixture of amusement and trepidation. The clearly magical source of the flame was a worry, but the guard seemed well known and his lack of concern at the giant throwing a little girl into the air was some comfort.

A few other children came to investigate the fun, but seeing the young lady being thrown high into the air by an armoured magical giant, they quickly retreated to the warmth and safety of their homes.

One boy, braver than the rest, darted out into the street and held his arms outstretched, hoping he might get a turn. Liam smiled at his courage. “Perhaps later, lad. The young lady needs to get some shoes first if she’s ever to reach land again.”

It wasn’t long before Liam reached the Town Square. Liam could see merchants setting up stalls for a market day. Putting Lady Claire down, he ensured the flame stayed close by her, and wandered over to inspect the stalls in search of boots and clothing.

There were a multitude of stalls, with equipment for farming, pots and pans, a range of household goods and a few gem merchants. Two clothiers sold rich bales of woollen cloth, and several craftsmen were readying to peddle their wares. Liam walked over towards those craftsmen who dealt in armour and clothing.

These had clustered into their own small section of the Market square and were rushing to complete their stall and begin trading before the others.

First, Liam’s group approached a cobbler. From what he could see, all the shoes aside from two sets of slippers were leather. Liam spent some time haggling with the man to ensure the Lady Claire received a good price for two pairs of boots. None of the craftsman’s goods were made with system enhancements, however, and Liam took a moment to suggest he try some new designs and gain some levels, receiving a decent discount for the Lady’s goods.

Once they’d purchased the footwear, Claire put hers on and stomped about the market, pretending to be Liam.

Her deepened voice and mocking swagger caused a few of the vendors to smile or chuckle at the play. Liam laughed with them. He was glad that she was unafraid to laugh and play. The tortures the Vampyre had inflicted that upon her were terrible, but the young girl's spirit seemed already to have recovered. From what her mother told him, she’d been unconscious for most of it.

All he could do was hope she would be all right.

Turning, Liam approached a young woman wearing a bright green dress of good quality. Liam coughed gently to gain her attention and requested to peruse her wares. She’d been unloading a large, covered wagon and unwrapped a bundle of cloth. Within were well-made gambesons and padded coats, as well as a few cotehardies and other garments.

Liam grinned. While he was wearing some good quality padding now that he’d looted the armoury at Cadzow, the material was tight on his frame. He hoped he could find something of a better fit here.

The tailor’s products ranged in quality from thin and fairly rough-sewn pieces to more elaborate decorative coats meant for display or tourneys. Claire hovered behind him and pointed to some of the more intricate needlework.

“That’s just like the coat father used to wear!” she exclaimed, causing Liam to smile. The young woman looked Liam over and chuckled, quickly assessing his wealth and station.

“You’re young to be her father, Milord. Are you kin?”

Liam shook his head in the negative. “No lord here. Just the young Lady of Cadzow and her escort. I’m a Page of Lord Douglas.” He explained, causing her to snort once more.

“And I’m the Lady’s age and all!” she mocked, hooting with laughter. “I don’t know why a young knight would go about posing as a Page, but if you’re looking for padded armour, we have the best this side of Edinburgh.”

Liam inspected the woman quickly and was surprised to see her level.

“You’re at level 8!” He exclaimed, surprised to see anyone not covered in armour at such a level. While combat skills were fairly easy to attain, crafting skills were less so. If this woman had levelled this quickly, it was because of astounding combat. Either that or Liam had just discovered a genius in her craft.

While Liam himself had gained level ten, it had only been because of the support of Lord Douglas and a large group of men-at arms. For a woman to achieve this level on her own was astonishing.

“Aye, and what of it?” She sniffed, flicking her braided hair over her shoulder as she moved a stack of cloth onto the trestle table she’d set up.

“How?” He asked. “I mean, was it from combat? Or did you gain those levels from crafting?”

She chuckled. “Well, there was some combat, as you say. Wolves attacked the wagon just north of Glasgow, but my husband and I drove them off. Only killed two of the hairy buggers.”

“Nay, most of my levels come from crafting. My husband and I run a cloth-maker’s and tailors just near the coast and bring our goods here once a month. We were lucky that we’d just taken a supply of flax, hemp and wool. We’ve spent the last six days making everything we could think of and glowing merrily as we did!”

Liam felt a bit put out at that. It took me four years to earn ten levels, and this woman has achieved in a week what I managed in three years. Six levels! Six!

Liam took a moment to recover his thoughts. “May I ask what class you gained?”

“You may, but I ain’t going to tell you.” She sniffed again. “These are trade secrets, and valuable.”

“I don’t mean what they are, but….” He thought for a moment. “Were there difficulties in learning the trade? Did you run into problems?”

“Only the usual. I gained the first three levels in a single day! The system gave me a reason to try techniques I thought might work but didn’t have a reason to try.” She explained. “I was working on some of the cast-off cloth to make a simple aketon, doubled the thickness of cloth around the shoulders and: LO! I shone with light.”

“Once my husband tried a different weave, and it worked, he glowed too. Once we’d worked out how to level, it was as simple as trying new things. We always wanted to experiment with our work, but never had much reason to. People want what people want.”

Liam nodded at that. He inspected a thin gambeson that felt oddly heavy to his touch. He inspected it.

Bhethir’s skin.

Crafted from the thick wool and canvas blend, this gambeson is embroidered with the images of Bhethir, the Dragon slain by villagers of Ballachulish by luring the dragon across a pier covered in hidden spears. When the Dragon landed on the pier, it sank into the ocean, leaving the spears to impale Bhethir.

Attributes:

+2 Strength

+2 Agility

Ability: Affords the user the ability to land without harm once per day.

Liam was astonished.

“You have two hundred Magic?” His response surprised the merchant, who grinned knowingly as she eyed his armour and weapons.

“And what can you make, sir? I never mentioned how I placed attributes with magic. Meaning you’ve crafted items yourself. Did you make that armour?” She asked. “I’ll trade the gambeson for the sword?”

Liam laughed, displaying the statistics of the sword. “That seems a bit of a one sided trade, lady seamstress.”

She appraised the armour for a moment and gulped. “I can’t see what your level is, but your armour is powerful beyond anything in Scotland! I don’t suppose you’d consider tha…”

“No.” Liam grinned back. “But thank you for the compliment. It was a lot of work, but my classes allowed me to gain a significant amount of Magic, so the increase in attributes results from that, not entirely from skill alone.”

“Aye, my husband put most of his points into agility and intelligence, while I focussed on Will and a mix of the physical attributes. Luckily, he doesn’t need to assign attributes for his work.”

“You say he makes cloth? Does it have added properties?”

“Not that I’ve seen.” She answered. “Most of the discoveries he made were in the weave. He even gained skills to make the space between weaves smaller and more durable. That’s what I made this piece from.” She gestured to Bhethir’s Skin.

Liam grinned. “What’s your name, Mistress?”

“Tilda.”

“Well, Mistress Tilda, what price do you ask?”

“For this piece, only forty pounds.”

Claire’s gasp coincided with a cough from the guard. “Forty… poun…” She stammered.

Liam’s eyes had boggled at the figure and he gave a disbelieving laugh. That is outright robbery. I can buy a horse for that sum.

Then he reconsidered. This was a quality piece of work, and he was unlikely to find any craftsmanship even close to this level for at least a few months or years.

Given that, it was probably worth the sum. He couldn’t just accept it, though. If the other traders saw him simply accepting any price, they would fleece him.

Liam shook his head. “I can’t do forty pounds, but I can do thirty if you can accept bullion in place of coin? Otherwise, the price I’d offer would be 25.”

She grinned at that. “Well, going rate for a pound of gold is ten pounds, so if you’re willing to show me three pounds of gold somewhere on your person, I’ll part with this now.” She picked up Bhethir’s Skin and shook it out. A set of padded leggings falling out of them.

“Leggings too?” Liam asked, then cursed himself. He should have just assumed they were part of the deal. Seeing her grin, he couldn’t help but return it. “I’ll take them for another ten pounds. They’ll be unsellable to anyone else.”

She nodded. “Very well. But you’d better have the gold.”

Liam grinned and removed four pieces of gold from his storage ring. Each weighed about a pound - at least by his reckoning.

Most of the people in the square noticed this action. The clanking of gold bars has a particular sound that draws the eye, even when people don’t know what they’re looking for.

Behind Liam’ he heard a squeak from Lady Claire, while the guardsman was simply staring, mouth agape.

Tilda’s face similarly dropped at the sight of gleaming gold falling from the sky into Liam’s hands. “How did you do… never mind.” She shrugged and reached for the scales she kept in her cart. Placing a one-pound weight on one side, she weighed each ingot. “It’s probably best not to let anyone else know how you did that, or else you’ll have thieves hovering about you day and night till you’re skint.”

Her husband arrived, carrying a stack of cloth, but seeing the gold, he quickly placed it upon a trestle and hurried over. “Did you sell the coat?” He asked breathlessly.

She ignored him, staring in concentration at the scales. “There’s nearly eight pounds here.” She muttered. “You mustn’t have diluted it at all.”

She took two of the ingots and gave them back to Liam, who placed them once more into his storage ring with the rest of his stack of gold. Tilda watched the gold disappear with a hungry look, then she turned to her husband. With a laugh, the tailor threw her arms around his neck, planting a solid kiss on his lips.

“I have good news, husband. I sold the coat and trews. The young knight gave me near forty pounds for them!” she exclaimed.

“What?” He gasped out loud, staring from his wife to Liam. His gaze then settled on Liam in suspicion. “This price isn’t for anything untoward?” He asked.

Liam looked up from his inspection of his new gambeson. “Hmm? What? No!” Liam replied, shocked by the implication.

“And you’re not angry with my wife?” The husband asked, relaxing slightly.

“Why would I be? This is some of the best craftsmanship I’ve seen, and for only forty gold merks! I likely won’t be seeing anything like it for a few months.” Ignoring the man’s confused look, Liam changed the subject. “Can you point me to a moneylender?”

The guard gave a cough. “You want nothing to do with them. They’re a bad sort–at least in this town.”

The guard scratched ear, clearly thinking. “Since we’re heading over to the tavern, you could ask Sir Peter. He’s the owner and should be able to convert at least half an ingot. It’s over yonder.” He gestured to a two-storey building at the corner of the Square, where a large fenced area lay before the door.

Liam nodded, taking his leave from Tilda and her husband. Walking sedately so that Lady Claire and the guard could keep up, Liam moved towards the building.

It was a two-story stone affair, with a staircase leading to an upper balcony that ran along the length of the structure, providing access to the rooms above. They kept a stable to one side where several horses whickered as they approached.

The Inn was quiet but for the sounds of the horses as drinking and revelry would start in the evening, not before work began.

Liam passed some empty tables and knocked at the large iron-bound door that stood beneath the sign of the inn.

The only sign that people lived there was the smoke coming from the chimney above and a faint glow of light from within.

The door remained silent for a moment and Liam wondered if the Inn would ever open when a rotund woman hauled it open and glared at him.

“Whatcha want?” She had thrust her chin forward and glared at Liam before noticing Lady Claire.

Claire looked up at her with tears coming suddenly to her eyes. “Mistress McDonnell!” She all but shrieked, rushing to her.

Mistress McDonnell was taken aback when Claire hurled herself at the older woman’s skirts and broke into tears.

The round-faced woman glared at Liam and the guard for a moment before kneeling to envelop the girl in powerful arms. This woman is a bear. Liam thought and hoped he hadn’t said it aloud.

The guard stepped forward, leaning his spear against the door. “Hello Auntie.” He said, but instead of a welcome, she shot him a glare. “What do you mean by this? The poor young lady is freezing, and what are these scars? Where did you find her, Tom McDonnell? You answer me that.”

Tom pointed rather suddenly at Liam. “It was him, Auntie. He arrived at the gate with the young Lady FitzGerald and her mother not an hour past.”

“Aye Mistress,” Liam confirmed. “Cadzow was taken, and I found the Ladies and their Lord in the Cold-Larder. They had been tortured badly.”

The large woman’s voice rose in horror. “Torture!” She began fussing over Claire, inspecting her for wounds or bruises. All she saw were scars. “How did you come by these?” She demanded of Claire, who was in no condition to answer. Tears streaked her face, and her breath was coming in quick gasps as she wept.

“I healed her wounds using abilities granted by the system,” Liam said. “The scars are the result. I cannot seem to heal past the wounds to her soul. Some foul magic was at play.”

“Magic? Are you from the Order of St John?” The woman glared at him, crossing herself. “And if you healed the Lady and Lord, why aren’t they with young Lady Claire?”

Liam shook his head. “No, Mistress, I’m not a church knight. I am a Page in service to Lord Douglas. A quest separated me from his party and during that time, I gained some knowledge of healing with magic. Mistress McDonnell, while the wounds to young Claire are bad, those to Lady Mary were worse.”

Liam looked back towards Claire, his face a mask of sympathy. “Lady Claire’s father, however. Well, the Lord is… he’s damaged..”

If Mistress McDonnell was the mother bear, then father bear had just come down the stairs.

The man was Liam’s own height and just as broad, but far more thickly muscled. If this fellow is to ascend, the world will think him a troll, not a man. He thought.

A thick beard of tangled black hair hung from a rough and scarred face, but the apron declared him to be Peter, the owner. The giant man stopped as his feet met the floor and he looked at Liam in surprise, seeing the expression mirrored.

The guard was grinning, seeing Liam’s expression.

“Hello Sir Peter,” the guard said, looking back and forth between the two of them, grinning. “I don’t think the lad thought he’d meet anyone his size!”

His voice, when it came, was like honey over oak. Soft, but filled with a sturdy confidence. “I didn’t expect it either.” He said, looking at Liam clinically, identifying each weakness and strength. “And what are ye doing here at this hour, Tom? We don’t have any trouble about just now, nor furniture that needs breaking.”

Tom grimaced. “Now about that, Sir Peter. You know I didn’t mean to break that table. I was just doing a jig, and one of those out-of-towners jostled it. Next thing…”

“Next thing, you’re trying to ruin my livelihood by spilling oil on the table and nearly setting the bar afire! You’re lucky you’re Agnes’ nephew, otherwise I’d have given you a walloping from here to the Bridge.” Peter growled.

Tom’s face paled at that. “Aye, well. I apologise about that.” He turned to Liam. “This young ‘Page’ has some business with ye.” He emphasized the title, clearly doubting that such a lowly court position was Liam’s true station.

Tom stepped towards the bar, just in time for Agnes to stand and grab him by the ear. “What do you mean by not bringing me word that Lady Claire and Mary were approaching?” She demanded, hauling him outside, her raised voice carrying into the tavern as she berated her nephew.

As the door closed and the voices faded to a background hum, Liam looked about, admiring the tavern. Smiling, Peter gestured him to a seat at a solid oak table.

The inn was a large room, with a polished wooden bar near the stairs. Large barrels of ale were stocked against the wall and several long tables were placed about the room for customers.

On the far side of the room, a fireplace was crackling beneath a cauldron of stew. It smelt delicious, and Liam could feel his mouth watering. The room was warm and comfortable, making a welcome change from the cold and mud of the last few days.

Liam felt himself relaxing into the seat with a sigh, enjoying the comforts of civilized company for the first time in far too long. It was a comfort he knew would be short-lived. He needed to be on the road to Cardross before dusk.