A Power and Endurance value of four made an incredible amount of difference. If three in any category was the highest that the average person could hope to achieve on Earth, then four was very much the peak of human potential reserved for only the greatest talent the world had to offer. It showed as I walked for hours without even feeling a single bit tired. I knew the rigors of the road intimately, and to be free of them like so was a welcome change of pace.

It did raise a few questions, however. Why was it so easy for me to reach this level? If Arlo and his friends both sat at a Power of two despite doing whatever country people did for work every day for over a decade, then why was I at three with effort alone?

I did imagine a few answers, and decided that they all probably had some level of truth to them. Power wasn’t only determined by how much physical labor you went through, but a combination of how far you pushed yourself and how much you took care of your own body’s nutritional needs. Endurance was the same, but only affected the duration of which I could exert my Power.

For someone like me, I could push myself past my physical breaking point and to the extent of near death without any lasting damage to myself, courtesy of Regenerate Wound, Rested Body and Rested Mind, and use Satiation to make sure that I was always running on a full tank, no matter what I did. It was just another advantage that magical expertise conferred. Even if joint issues eventually manifested in the future, I could take care of that as well.

That said, it probably wouldn’t help me much in the coming days. I was no longer in complete isolation, and because magic was frowned upon, it would be strange to see a mother lugging around a baby and a literal tonne of weight in an attempt to gauge her limits.

My current goal was to travel to a big city and get situated. I was remarkably educated and would find work expeditiously, especially somewhere less bigoted than a frontier settlement. With any luck, I could move on to one of the Golden Cities, put down roots and raise Farhaan in a country where the people looked like me. I would gladly put up to the wacky customs of an alien country if it meant that my son wouldn’t be lynched while I wasn’t looking, and I wouldn’t be forced to commit genocide.

Day turned to night quickly enough, and I renewed the Satiation on both of us, and cured us both of any new diseases. Nothing new actually occurred until I came upon a crossroads, and with Sense Life, detected a pair of lifeforms rushing from the left road towards me at speeds no normal human could match, with two enormous life signatures leading the way, pulsing with exertion.

The beast-drawn coach came into view in the low light, and I could make out the shapes of the animals at the forefront. For one, they were not horses. They were far bulkier, more limber, and distinctly predatory in movement. It wasn’t anything overt, but my mental attributes helped my mind paint a rather vivid picture of all the ways these beasts were designed to hunt and navigate through forests. Just their gait told me enough to make conclusions regarding their deadliness.

When they were close enough that I could start to make out some of their features — rounded ears, tusks jutting upwards at least twenty centimetres, bear-like muzzles and a body-shape that would have evoked canine if they didn’t keep their heads beneath their shoulders like bears did — the carriage slowed.

For a lack of better options, I approached it. Worst came to worst, I would defend myself easily enough, kill their beasts and make an escape with my above-average Power value.

The coach was ornate, adorned with flowering patterns of metal nailed to the glistening high-quality wood. The coachman’s head was turned my way, and though it was too dark to make out his features, his posture informed me that he was mildly wary.

“Well met, traveller,” he said. The first few words were a phrase made up of three, of which I only understood one, but the tone and the word itself did tell me that it was a greeting.

“You too,” I said simply.

Perhaps it was the accent I spoke in, but when the coachman spoke again, he kept it mercifully simple. “Are you lost?”

“I want to go to a town,” I said. “The closest one.”

The coach window opened and an elderly man pushed his upper body out of it with gloved hands. He wore an ornate hat with a rounded crown and a quadrangular brim, adorned with silk embroidery of flowers. “Mr. Sheruna, Mr. Sheruna, where did she say she wanted to go?”

“The nearest town, elem.” The last word felt more like a word I didn’t understand than the aristocrat’s name.

“Ah, that would be Brunten, yes? Let her in, let her in,” he pointed at me with a cane, “No need to worry, lady. You may enter my coach. A mother should not travel these roads on her own. There are eren-diena about, you see. Now, Sheruna, let her in.”

“Yes, elem,” the coachman stepped off from his pillowed seat and opened the coach’s door, expanding a metallic staircase from it, for my convenience. With a nod of thanks, I approached the coach and walked up the stairs as the aristocrat helped me up. His eyes were like gems as well, bereft of pupils, a deep green that would occasionally reflect light and flash like green traffic lights. From what I could tell, he didn’t have any malicious designs. He had a streak of narcissism evident in his tone, but what aristocrat didn’t? On the other hand, he seemed to be doing this genuinely out of altruism.

It wasn’t… something I had much experience with. Needless to say, I was understandably ready to cut and run if things went the way I always expected things to go.

The inside of the coach was rather opulent, and the soft seats were comfortable, but as the beasts resumed their pace, suspension was not one of the luxuries that the aristocrat had to offer.

“Good evening,” the aristocrat began. “My name is Daiclovius Reizenbrahm the eighth. What is your name, young mother?”

“Reza,” I simply said. I wasn’t sure of the prevalence of last names for commoners, and I didn’t want to be mistaken for someone high-profile. He looked at me, expecting me to continue. “I am just travelling,” I told him.

“It’s not often I see Goldmen roaming Aellian lands,” he said. “I pray you did not have a hard time in these frontiers. However you ended up here, I give you my word that I will deliver you to Brunten.”

I nodded gratefully.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I switched to Parsi?” He asked. I inferred that he was referring to the language of the Goldmen. I shook my head demurely.

“I would not like to inconvenience you, elem.”

He laughed. “Nonsense, nonsense. You are not under my employ. You may refer to me as Daiclovius or Lord Reizenbrahm.” Then elem meant master or boss. “And it is no inconvenience. I like to think that my skills are rather up to par.”

“Unfortunately, my Aellian is not,” I said. “I would like to practice as much as possible while I am still in these new lands.”

He nodded understandingly. “For a Goldman, you seem quite attached to our culture. Am I to assume that the child was sired by an Aellian?”

From how he was asking, I knew he wasn’t trying to trick me, yet common sense dictated I shut him down immediately. Miscegenation was already moderately frowned upon on Earth proper. I didn’t like my odds with an archaic society.

“Have no fear,” he chuckled good-naturedly. “I am not so bigoted that I would object to such a union. My patrilinear great great grandfather was a Goldman. He was a seilema, a minister of coin. Of course, this was back when the Golden Coalition were not so war-like. It’s a real atrocity, this war, and if I had my wish, the great wall would have been built years ago. But no one listens to old Reizenbrahm. Too feeble, they call me.”

He snapped out of his rant and gave me a friendly smile. “May I ask why you are so far from home?”

“I was waylaid by bandits,” I responded honestly.

“Yes, yes, the eren-diena,” he nodded thoughtfully, “My sincerest condolences.” Upon my confusion, he elaborated the term. “Condolences means I am sorry for your situation.”

“No, the eren-diena. What does that mean?”

“Those that trade and transport people, destined for forced servitude,” he explained. Slavers.

I nodded sadly. “They were quite… barbaric men.”

Reizenbrahm’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me—! Did the slavers…?” He looked meaningfully at the child, then at me.

He hit uncomfortably close to home. I closed my eyes to forget the pain, but unfortunately, the lord took that as confirmation. “Again, my sincerest condolences, and I am most apologetic for prying into the origins of your child. I did not know—”

“You couldn’t have,” I let him off. It was a good enough story, so I might as well just run with it. Farhaan chose this time to wake up, however, and gurgled a little as he stretched his arms towards me. I gave him my fingers and played with him absently.

+1 Charm

The difference was immediately palpable. It felt like my optical focus widened with regards to the aristocrat’s features. I took in more of them at once, and made incredible deductions regarding them. They evoked emotion much more clearly now, almost to a point where it seemed cartoonish.

I understood more than ever why it was called Charm. With this, I was practically unstoppable.

“Is he hungry? Would you like something to eat, to get the milk flowing?”

I smiled. "You show consideration, lord. If I may," I gestured towards my breast, feeling a little awkward as I did. Revealing an intimate part of my body wasn't exactly a thing I wanted to do, but I couldn't sense even a sliver of lust on his face, and my child was hungry.

He smiled cheekily. “That would be ‘my lord’ in proper speak. And do as you please, by all means!”

I nodded, grateful for the tidbit of education. “My lord, then.” I fished my breast out from my shirt and Farhaan suckled greedily.

“Onto more savory topics,” he changed the subject with the finesse of a shotgun. “We won’t arrive before dawn at best, so I might as well regale you with as many tales as I can over some wine, if that is agreeable with you?”

It was not. I had no idea how alcohol would interact with my mind vis a vis spellcasting, and I wasn’t particularly curious to try. I had already gone waist-deep into insanity, and that was while I was entirely sober.

“Does my lord have water?” I asked.

He frowned pensively. “Why would you not want wine?”

“In my culture, we don’t drink.”

He blinked owlishly. “I was under the assumption that Goldmen loved drinking! The Festival of Luster is all about wine, is it not?”

“It is,” I told him, “But I am a woman, and I am breastfeeding. In this stage of life, as well as during pregnancy, it is considered a grave sin to consume alcohol.”

He nodded understandingly. “I meant no offence then.”

“My lord was being a thoughtful host. In my culture, that makes you equal to a great man.”

He frowned a little. “I don’t know about that. All the Goldman hosts I’ve ever had the pleasure of being under the care of seemed to concern themselves more about rubbing their wealth in my face than accommodate me.”

“Our men can be rather competitive against outsiders,” I explained. I wouldn’t lie that this back and forth was amusing. I could read the man like an open book, every micro-expression illuminated under the candle-light as well as bodily movements. Compounded with my increased ability to visualize and deduce clues using Wisdom and Intelligence, I was learning so much.

“As always, it comes down to a difference in nationality,” he huffed. “Were I the emperor of this world, there would be no borders or states, only nations coexisting in harmony.” He caught himself quickly and chuckled. “At any rate, yes, I do have water, but you will have to forgive me as it was filled from a pond and boiled. It will not sicken you, but it may not taste very good.”

“That is alright,” I said as he handed me a waterskin and I covertly Purified it before taking a drink of it. It tasted just like mineral water.

He launched into a tale without much preamble. He was going on about his hijinks in a country west of Aellia, known as Filomena. It was by the ocean, and was known for its white sand beaches and aquamarine coastal waters that glimmered like gems in the sun. He used to be quite the adventurer back in his heyday, his Power sitting at a respectable thirty-four.

He either hadn’t noticed my tenseness when he revealed that to me, or he did and decided to ignore it. At any rate, it was a large number, so it would have been more suspicious if I hadn’t reacted at all. That number made him almost nine times stronger and faster than me. If I was to escape, I had to kill him.

Reizenbrahm fell in with privateers, and entered into an agreement with the largest port city in Filomena to protect the water-ways and bounty-hunt as many pirates as they could. To hear him say it, a whole host of privateers and former pirates entered a similar agreement and the event was historically known as the Naval Incursion, lasting eight years and netting the participants either destruction and ruination or untold fortune.

The old lord didn’t spare me the grisly details. He went on great detail about the tendency for pirates to be exceptionally brutal in their conduct, and the way lawful citizens would punish these degenerates with extreme torture. It was a vicious cycle, he explained, as the crueler citizens became in condemning the pirates, the less chances the pirates took with leaving survivors or taking half-measures.

Each side of the conflict ratcheted the other’s cruelty up until they hit a ceiling, the climax of the Naval Incursion commonly known as the Black Month. It was where the enterprising lord entered. He commanded over a thousand men in a battle against the Blood Marauders, having helped quell the worst of the pirates’ behavior. He fought dozens of life-or-death battles, offered winning strategies on land and on water, and plundered pirate stockpiles, allowing him to return to Aellia as one of the richest aristocrats in the country.

Without even losing steam, he continued on about his adventures in the Golden Lands. I did my best to project a sense of familiarity as he told me about the bronze dunes that stretched to infinity, the horizon only broken up by the towering edifices of Dhul Arsha, which meant the City of the Sky he explained the way men usually did to women regardless of how likely they were to know. A native Goldman would certainly not need to hear this, but his baseless assumptions were correct. I knew nothing, and I appreciated being filled in. I told him I hadn’t ever been there, to the City of the Sky, so he filled me in on all the major details.

He took a swig of his wine before beginning, his face flushed as he spoke. “It is said that the nobility of Dhul Arsha live above the clouds, their sandstone towers so tall that they could go for days without even seeing the surface buildings beneath them. The principal eight towers of the nobility have numerous large bridges between them, bridges that contain manors of their own where the bulk of their slaves reside.

“Surrounded by the eight principal towers is a single golden one that was built in the center, one that isn’t inhabited by any living beings, and for all the locals know, could have been nothing but solid gold within it. There is no entrance, and the material is said to be indestructible, and it is this towering obelisk that gives the Goldman people their name. You worship the Golden Amura, a being who is so large that the Golden Obelisk can only be the being’s staff.” I nodded proudly, but inwardly felt elation at another hint. I was almost certain that such an edifice was the World Obelisk the system was telling me about.

“The Golden Amura, almighty in both power and splendour,” I nodded. “For who could have created such a structure if not him?”

Reizenbrahm nodded respectfully, but didn’t seem interested in getting into a theological debate with me. I was thankful for his propriety. He continued. “Dhul Arsha’s walls could never hide the sheer heights of these ancient structures that predate even the earliest records of human habitation, but not for a lack of trying. The sandstone walls reach a height of one thousand five hundred treleres,” at my confused look, he elaborated, “Six thousand hands, give or take a few hundred.” Even with conservative estimates, that would be about half a kilometer. How the hell was that possible without modern technology? Moreover, why would they build them that tall? “They span a hundred thousand treleres in length, going all around the colossal city state. Even from a day’s distance of travel away, the walls are visible. How can a city so large in a desert sustain itself, you may wonder?” His eyes twinkled as he grinned excitedly. “The Golden Staff of Amura is cold to the touch, and somehow, it attracts rain-clouds. Though it starves out the surrounding desert, from the foot of the staff itself, bountiful rivers pour, flowing towards the outer districts that are dominated by farmland. Dhul Arsha has enough water to feed and sate a million men, and because of a decree by an Arsh Seilema, a Sky Minister or city lord that lived over two hundred years ago, Dhul Arsha maintains a permanent population of nine-hundred thousand, allowing only a hundred thousand travelers to stay within city limits at any given time. Outside, there are encampments as far as the eye can see, of stations that travelling merchants frequent. This pseudo-city sustains itself with traded goods, and is said to be the heartland of trade in all the Golden Lands.”

“Did you ever enter?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Well, of course I did. I tell you, the moment I saw that city, I said to myself: ‘by any means necessary, I will enter it.’ It was ten years ago when I did, and it still feels like yesterday.” He smiled fondly at the memories. “At this point, the Reizenbrahm name was still relevant, and it earned me some favor with the Sky nobility. I was invited to the Tower of Romance, one of the eight principal towers, and resided at its topmost part for a week, hosted by the Arsh Seilema’s nephew, who was at the time the minister of war. It was a diplomatic mission as much as it was a holiday. The man was eager to dazzle me with his playthings; exotic animals from far away, slaves skilled in all sorts of arts and all their masterpieces, their legacy statues of all the celebrated figures of their family tree, made in solid gold,” he laughed. “It was too much. When I departed, I felt an extreme emptiness in my soul. I didn’t know whether to sack the city or try to make as much money in a more legitimate way, though a part of me knows that I would never reach those heights in such a manner.”

He shook his head. “Though the Era of Madness wreaked untold havoc, it did also net a few people riches beyond imagining.” Apprehension welled up inside me, along with anticipation. He was bitter, that much was obvious, but that bitterness could easily be directed towards magic rather than his lack of wealth attained through it.

I needed more data, but this tidbit was plenty valuable already.

“Do you have any stories from the Era of Madness?” I asked.

“None first-hand,” he laughed. “It did occur two-thousand years ago,” he began. I smiled innocently as he continued. “A well-known folk myth we have is of Rezdnaq the Jealous.” He smiled mischievously. “It is a story we tell unruly children.”

I paused.

No, it couldn’t have been that. He must have been talking about something else, not her.

“I would like to hear it,” I said, hiding my inner turmoil as well as I could.

He laughed. “It’s a scary one to be sure. Rezdnaq was not her true name. Perhaps, it was a true name, but not the name she was born with. That was Realdra, an average name at the time. She was only a child when she received her first spell point. She was sharp, quick-witted, and knew how to outthink everyone in her town. That was enough to impress everyone, yes, but not enough for her, whose knowledge was her greatest gift and curse. She wanted what she didn’t have, and would not settle until she received it.

“Realdra worked hard to gain riches and power, worked hard to buy all the things she ever wanted. She hadn’t spent any spell points yet, though she hadn’t thrown them away either. All this was just her prodigious mind, a mind that she kept sharpening until she received a noble class, and by then, her charm had grown as well. There’s a vicious combination, mental attributes and charm working in concert,” he laughed. “I pity those men and women back then.”

A tightness coiled itself around my heart. I was still in Reizenbrahm’s good graces, but now I knew how close I was to not being there.

“Eventually, Realdra owned everything there was to own, and when she fell in love, she realized that there were some things money simply could not buy. It could not buy the hearts of good men.”

“And this is when she spent her spell point?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Realdra was malicious, not stupid. Back then, though magic was commonplace in some circles, she knew well the perils of mastering the dark arts, and deemed herself unworthy of braving the challenge. No, Realdra killed her love’s wife. She had her assassinated, and pinned the blame on the man’s sister. Realdra pretended to be just and sent her men to execute her before she could be questioned by her love. Naturally, he didn’t take kindly to this at all, and declared publicly that Realdra would never be his wife. She was furious.

“She selected a spell that would help her win the man’s heart, and used it to enchant him. He never had a single wisp of free will again in his life. She, however, grew a taste for it; the ceaseless love and devotion of those under her thrall. Within a month, everyone in town was under her command. Within a year, the whole county was hers.

“No one outside the kingdom realized this was magic, and simply treated her like a competent ruler that managed to win the hearts of her people. It wasn’t until the king had decided to send a spy to her court to see what was really happening. What the spy found out shocked him. Three decrees, and he watched them unfold right before his eyes.

“Realdra sent out a decree. All children below a certain age were to be publicly executed, as she had grown tired of their parents deciding that staying home and taking care of them was more important than constantly worshipping her. The executors were their parents, and they carried out the grisly task with smiles on their faces.

“Realdra sent out another decree. All men had to poke out their eyes after looking at her, so they would only have one woman in their minds at all times. They happily complied.

“Realdra sent out another decree. As a woman, if your Charm ever exceeded four, you would immediately be executed. All sorts of women walked towards their deaths in euphoria, glad to be able to prove to their queen the depths of their devotion.

“The spy did not hesitate to report back to his king, who immediately reported to the Overlord of the Woods, a deified hero whose legends are even sung until today. He opened up the earth and swallowed the county whole, finally putting to rest the tortured inhabitants and putting an end to her twisted reign of terror. The Overlord named her Rezdnaq, an ancient word for ‘jealous’, and decreed that magic would forever be outlawed in this land, now known as Aellia. The end.”

That was… not at all how bogeyman stories were supposed to go. “And your people tell this story to children?” How did it stop them from being unruly?

“I was told the story as a child,” Reizenbrahm amended. “It might be a little much to expect that regular folk do the same, but we also can’t understate the importance of dissuading children from madness and ingraining into them the importance of discarding all their spell points when they acquire them.”

Fair. Cruel, but that was to be expected when the stakes were so high.

Rezdnaq meant ‘jealous’ in an ancient language, then? Or perhaps it was a way to attach negative meaning to the entity truly known as Rezdnaq?

That word couldn’t have been a coincidence. It just couldn’t. I needed to study up on local demonology, see if she appeared in any of the stories.

An iteration of myself whose name was suitably profane to be attached to a great evil like Realdra. What had I been up to?

“It was a distasteful story, I’ll say,” he said with a grin. “What if I make up for it with a boardgame with you?”

I nodded. “There is nothing to make up for, but I will take you up on your offer.” I was starting to grow a little bored.

“Certainly.”