“The first thing you must understand about your Brand is how important it is that it remains a secret. It would be immensely dangerous for us should it get out that a newborn monster with a Brand walks the surface of Eogan once more. This condition applies to your fellow ghouls, too. We’ll take measures to hide the marks. The symbols aren’t too clear yet, but as you three increase in strength it will become harder to conceal them.”

Vanalath tilted his head. What did she mean, harder? Would the Brands grow in size or something?

“The reason I must take these steps is because, for the past several millennia, no monsters have received a Brand. Not a single one. Do you understand?”

Not really, no.

“A Brand is synonymous with potential. For the civilized races, it means that we may choose a class and set out on our Path, obtaining strength, skills, and knowledge by honing ourselves through training and combat. For monsters… well, no one truly knows, but records indicate that it must be something similar. You do not have classes, but the Brands probably do something to interfere with your evolutions. Evolving is a natural process for all monsters, such as your evolution from a lesser ghoul into a ghoul, but most only ever evolve once or twice. Rarely will one evolve three times. Four evolutions and that monster gets a bounty worth a village put on its head. Five evolutions is ample justification for a battalion to be dispatched, but there are few records of wild monsters evolving more than that.

“Branded monsters are a different story. They might have been able to evolve up to six or seven times, perhaps even more, as ancient writings indicate their changes in appearance over the course of decades and centuries.

“You might wonder: why would Brands appear now, when monsters haven’t received them for thousands of years? I’ve given it much thought since learning that you bore one, Vanalath. My hypothesis is simple. Undead are a new breed of monster. They simply haven’t appeared on Eogan before, and the System that grants us these Brands simply hasn’t had time to catch up. As such, our course of action is clear. We will create as many Branded undead as possible before the world realizes its mistake and reneges on its gift. Which leads us to our main topic of discussion: how does one gain a Brand?”

- - -

“Other than praying to Father Mountain every day?”

Lae nodded.

“Feats.”

Orimo and his daughter had yet to fall asleep. Ever since his resolution to fight with the Branded monstrosity, Lae had kept them both up, asking question after question, even though her eyes were red and her head kept nodding, drifting to her knees as if it were too much of a chore to stay upright. She was trying to monopolize her remaining time with her father, but Orimo didn’t mind. After tomorrow, they might never see each other again. A single night of missed sleep wouldn’t impact the hunter too badly—his stamina stat was too high for that.

Perhaps because Lae was unwilling to acknowledge the fact that she would not be with him for much longer, her questions had shifted towards less personal subjects. This was easier for Orimo to talk about, anyway. In hindsight, his history of being so tightly-lipped towards his daughter on the nature of Brands was foolish. Not knowing something wasn’t the same as being protected, and he may not be around much longer.

“Feats?” she asked.

“Yes. Exploits. Well, there’s also matter of suitability. I’ve known a man who brought down a griffon single-handedly and didn’t get a Brand, while another simply pulled a sheep out of where it got stuck in a cleft. He exerted himself so greatly that he received one right away.”

“A sheep?” she repeated, giggling.

“Yes. Strange, isn’t it?”

“Why does Father Mountain choose people so randomly, Papa?”

“It’s hard to say, but He Who Towers Above has his reasons, I’m sure.”

Lae was silent for a moment, thinking.

“Shouldn’t he want more Branded instead of less? We’d be stronger then, right?”

“Hmm… yes, perhaps we’d be stronger if there were more of us. But if that were so, there would be a greater risk of corruption.”

“Corruption?”

Orimo frowned. “Yes, corruption. Strength breeds such things. Remember this, Lae: it is only through knowing ourselves, though judging all of our actions by moral standards, that we avoid becoming twisted and corrupt. Even the best of us are susceptible.”

“But I’m not a Branded. How could I become corrupt?”

“You aren’t a Branded, but this rule doesn’t apply only to people like me. For instance, would you say that Kalaki is weak?”

“Of course not!”

“Right. Even though our warrior-protector isn’t a Branded, in the prime of his life, he would have been difficult for even me to defeat. Perhaps it would have even been impossible. A Brand is a blessing, but it isn’t the only path to strength. Kalaki is a good example. Even in his strength, he was never arrogant or boastful, but remained a silent guardian. If I were to select the attitude I think all Branded should aspire to, I would point to him.”

They were both silent for a moment. Lae couldn’t help but think back to the sight of Kalaki’s walking corpse, advancing on the line of protectors back in the cave. That had been the final straw. Nobody wanted to fight against him the old man who had protected them for as long as anyone could remember.

“Do you think I could get strong like Kalaki?”

“Yes,” said Orimo firmly.

- - -

“We all have wells, each and every creature in the world. And no two are the same,” said the necromancer. “They have difference widths and depths, they are made of different materials, some are deep but hold no water, while some are shallow and overflowing.”

She had just finished explaining the concept of levels. Apparently, each time Vanalath saw runes appear, it meant he had increased in level and gained a corresponding stat increase. This made sense to him. He’d already equated the glowing symbols to an increase in his strength, all she’d done was confirm this for him. But afterwards, she began this new explanation, saying that there was more to strength than simply accumulating levels.

“This well is your soul.”

The metaphor was decidedly not helping Vanalath understand whatever she was talking about, and the prickling sensation in his head wasn’t helping him any. Once again, he was having to come face-to-face with his lack of imagination. He did his best, but he knew he didn’t own a well, and he certainly didn’t keep his soul in one.

“Though some start deeper than others, it is how you use that depth that matters. Sitting on your laurels and enjoying the water you draw up will only last you while times are good. If a drought strikes, you will die of thirst. Those who dug their wells deeper used what they were given: the water they drew up let them wash their sweat and slake their burning thirst, throwing themselves back into the arduous task of digging. These are the chosen. These are the ones who are recognized and receive Brands.”

Perhaps Vanalath’s dull stare communicated something to her, as she gave a polite cough and changed angles.

“This is how my master taught me, and how his master taught him. Simply put, you can think of the depth of your well as your potential. Those who are fortunate, born when the stars aligned or simply had good parents, will have a higher potential—a deeper well—than those less fortunate. You can think of this potential, most simply, as the number of levels you are able to accrue. You could be level five with thirty levels of potential, but you can’t be level five with four levels of potential. Once your well is filled, you can no longer add more water. It will overflow.”

So, one day this would stop? Vanalath would no longer receive levels no matter how much he fought and killed?

She went on, “But you can deepen it. The act of increasing one’s potential is the one of the least understood processes in the world, at least as far as the mechanism behind it works, but there are five ways that we know of to go about doing it. These first three methods do not give you levels themselves, they only increase your future capacity for levels.

“The first, and simplest, is to develop your body. This method works for everybody, but it has a terrible return on investment. Some warriors train for years and are only able to increase their level potential once or twice, though others can increase it much more than that.

“The second is to develop your mind. The accumulation of knowledge, becoming mentally strong, anything that improves your mental faculties will count. This method is better than the first, but only to a point. Simply put, there’s a ceiling on what we call “mortal intelligence.” A prodigy might meditate every day and increase his potential by dozens of levels worth, but if he relies on this alone, he will die of thirst like the rest.

“The third is similar to the second. Though it is still considered controversial in many parts of the world, it has been empirically proven by the Institute. It involves experiencing strong emotion. When put through extreme duress, a person can increase their potential. The test ran like this: out of one hundred involuntary subjects, fifty-eight Branded increased their potential after being tortured for one week. Out of those fifty-eight, seven increased their potential by over forty levels, or over two Tiers. The torture has to inflict true mental and physical trauma. There was a second test where subjects ‘opted-in,’ choosing to subject themselves to all sorts of suffering. This one had much worse results. Other types of emotion can also increase potential, but it’s harder to test for those in a controlled study.”

So, if he wished to increase his potential he should get tortured, but he couldn’t want to get tortured? How strange.

“The last two methods are unique in that they increase potential while simultaneously increasing your level to match. You can think of them as digging your well and filling it with water at the same time. The fourth is the cultivation of the body. This is different than simply training, though for some rare few it is effectively the same. This is the cultivation of Mel, Pix, or, in our case: Ichor. These are the essences of the body, the universal forces that sustain life itself.

“The fifth and final method is through the cultivation of magic. The mind, again, plays a role here. For others, the energy that fuels magic is known as Mist or Vapor. For us, it is Miasma. Training the usage of this energy will achieve expansion of your potential. If you have any skills that allow you to use Miasma, training them is key.”

It was a lot to take in, but the necromancer didn’t even pause, moving on to the next subject in the same breath.

“Now, the Brands themselves.”

- - -

Orimo studied his daughter for several long moments. It had been an innocuous question: how many Branded were there in Yarang? This was a difficult subject to broach, as it involved some of what was, by the Chief’s Law, forbidden knowledge. He needed to leave out certain portions of his explanation, but Lae was the sort of girl that would immediately notice that sort of thing. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, however, thanks to the Oath he took a month after receiving his own Brand.

“In Yarang, there are a little over one hundred Branded. At least that was the number last I checked,” he began. “The Enclave has all of the records. But there’s more to it than just that.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know the types of Brands, Lae?”

“Yeah! You’ve got Temperance, Papa. I know that woman who came here last spring to visit you had Patience. Other than that, there’s Diligence, Humility, Kindness, Charity, and Chastity, right?”

Orimo chewed on his cheek as he nodded along. “Yes. I suppose I’m not surprised you remembered that woman. But those seven Brands aren’t all of them.”

“Huh?”

“The monster you saw. What did his Brand look like?”

“Um…” her eyes widened. “It was red. It was red, wasn’t it? Papa, isn’t that because it was a monster? Do they get red Brands?”

He shook his head. “No. At least, not entirely. I don’t find it surprising for a monster to be given one of the False Brands, but us humans can get them, too.”

Lae’s mouth fell open. This was starting to sound an awful lot like blasphemy. At the same time, if Orimo was the one saying it, it had to be true.

Orimo nodded slowly as he thought. He was unable to touch on the truly “forbidden” part of this knowledge, and he really hoped his daughter wouldn’t ask more questions once he explained the next part.

“It’s… rare,” he continued. “A False Brand is very similar to a True Brand, but it doesn’t promote any sort of virtue. Rather, it’s the opposite.”

“Why—”

“Yes, Father Mountain gives us these Brands as well. You must understand, a Brand is seen as the ‘unearthing’ of someone’s true personality. In that way, we perceive these False Brands as warnings. It isn’t a curse or a blessing, but a simple warning. Remember that. In this way, Father Mountain allows us to be on guard against evil.”

Lae fell silent. She sensed gaps in this argument: why give someone evil that sort of power? Why had she never heard of anyone with one of these Brands? Somehow, she sensed that she shouldn’t speak up about her misgivings. Something in the aura exuded by her father stopped her.

“Lae, if you ever see someone with a False Brand, run and tell the nearest True Branded. Understand?”

- - -

“Fourteen Brands,” said the necromancer. “That’s the total number of different types. They are all functionally the same, though each one has a different effect on your mental state. They are divided into two categories: seven Virtues and seven Sins. A Virtuous Brand, like Kalaki’s Humility, is one of the best ‘free passes’ in the world. It’s a key that opens doors, granting the Branded trust and respect in any civilized country on the planet. Well, except for one, but Yospad is so far from here that it may never matter. A Sinful Brand, such as Anamu’s Brand of Gluttony, is often the opposite. In my homeland, we treated all Branded the same, at least on paper. Here in Yarang, I imagine the Sinful Branded are persecuted, and possibly even killed, in secret.”

That sounded to Vanalath like a good way to halve your fighting force.

“For the most part, this doesn’t apply to you. Even with the Brand of Humility, Kalaki is still a monster. He won’t be welcomed by any civilization on the planet, even by Yospad, unless it’s as a slave.”

- - -

“Papa. There’s something else.”

“Hm? What’s that?” replied Orimo.

Lae’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as she fiddled with her thumbs. “I’m… not sure about it, but I can’t think of what else it could be.”

“What are you talking about, Lae?”

“The monster. The one with the False Brand. He—”

“It. Not a he.”

“Right. ‘It’ had, um, two colors on its forehead.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“There was the big red Brand. The False Brand. It was very bright. But in the center, I thought I saw something else. It was blue, and it looked a whole lot like a True Brand. Like Patience, the same that the visitor had.”

Her words trailed off into silence. Orimo was confused at first, but eventually, he hid a wry smile. She had been worried about this? Wrapping an arm around his daughter’s shoulders, he spoke calmly.

“Lae, that was a terrifying night for you. For everyone. I understand. But this rule holds since time immemorial: everyone has a limit of one Brand. One bestowment. A second is simply impossible. Even if it happened, I imagine the Branded would be severely handicapped. You were just seeing things.”

“What do you mean, handicapped?” she said, hiding the secret hurt she felt at his frank dismissal.

“Since it cannot happen, I can’t be too sure. But since you’re asking me to guess anyway, I’d judge that its potential would be very low. Think about it—its soul would be divided by two competing Paths. It would need to accomplish impossible feats once it reached the Third Tier to progress even a single level. No, perhaps the worst part would be its temperament. It would be very unstable.”

“Like its personality? How would that affect a monster?”

“You know that Brands amplify certain traits. If this one had a True and a False Brand? Those are two very divergent features: good and evil, combined. I imagine that if that ever happened, it would go completely mad once it reached the Third Tier. No, if a creature like that somehow did exist, it would be a bigger threat to itself than to any of us.”

- - -

Vanalath couldn’t help but frown.

“That’s the true effect of a Peon Brand,” said his mistress. “They aren’t inherently bad, but granting one is a bit like chopping your leg off so your friend can run an extra mile. You’ve combined your potential with the potential of these two ghouls. Then, you took that combined amount and split it into thirds. If their wells had the same amount of capacity as you to begin with, then that’s fine—your current potential remains the same. But if they didn’t? Then that deep well that should have been yours alone has been filled in and replaced by a shallower one. What’s even worse is that this will affect every move you take going forward.”

This was beginning to sound like a terrible mistake had been made.

“This wasn’t a one-time change. These ghouls are now in lockstep with yours. For instance, if Anamu fails to increase his potential in the future and reaches his limit of levels, he will begin to sap at the potential you have made for yourself, digging out his well and filling yours in. It will also hinder Kalaki.

“What you’ve unwittingly done is something that even a powerful Branded would be hesitant to do, and if he did, it would only be after finding a very suitable candidate. One with heaps of talent. Do you understand?”

Yes. Vanalath understood perfectly. He’d split his potential into a fraction of what it once was. Turning to the two ghouls, he glowered. Anamu shrunk back, hiding halfway behind Kalaki.

“But there is hope,” she continued. “So long as they push themselves, digging their wells deep on their own merits, they won’t hold you back. It’s a bit of a stretch to say that they could even help you, but it is theoretically possible. That’s up to them, however. And if they die… that potential remains lost to you. It would be a struggle to regain it.”

Vanalath’s fingers tensed, wishing to grasp the hilt of his sword. He wanted to swing his blade, to hit something. The itching in his head didn’t help. It had yet to abate, and at this point he was beginning to wonder if there were live spiders crawling around in his skull.

Then, the necromancer spoke softly, revealing a small hope: “However, there is one method of reverting this change and regaining your original well.”

Vanalath raised his head. She smiled at his look of interest, which it seemed she could sense even through the wooden mask.

“But I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” she tittered. “It’s irreversible once done, you see, and I’m interested in seeing where this little trio goes.”

Vanalath stood up abruptly, chair falling to the floor as his hand reached for his hilt. He heard a yelp as Kaipo ran away, and he sensed Kalaki and Anamu shifting behind him, though whether it was to fight or run, he didn’t know or care.

He paused just before unsheathing his sword at the sight the unperturbed smile on the woman’s lips. He couldn’t help but remember her movements earlier today when she’d pinned Anamu to the ground. It had been effortless for her, even though it backfired later, and she’d been seized by a fit. He doubted that he could put up much more of a resistance than Anamu had.

He couldn’t threaten her. No, what she was doing right now was tempting him with information: dangling a thread before him like bait. That was when he realized that the necromancer didn’t trust his pledge of servitude. Perhaps she never had.

His own leverage was minimal here, and he knew it. He couldn’t leave her service without first gaining the knowledge of how to regain his lost potential. He couldn’t physically intimidate her, and he didn’t really want to, which was a strange feeling. There was still that same sense in his mind, the one that told him that remaining under her and trusting in her ambition was the wise choice, despite her overt manipulation. There was even a part of himself that was impressed by how she’d tied him around her finger in a few sentences, but his boiling rage overshadowed that small voice.

He didn’t enjoy the feeling of being stifled like this: his potential locked away. Trapped.

Turning, he strode towards the exit, smashing aside whatever stood between him and the door, whether it was furniture or unfortunate ghouls.

“Vanalath.”

He turned sharply.

Here, she seemed to offer a concession. “Worry not. If your growth stagnates for too long, I won’t let you remain thus. Don’t wander too far, now. We leave in an hour.”

He left, knocking down the door on his way out. Sighing, Kaipo crept out from his hiding spot to prop it up again.

- - -

“Anamu, Kalaki, stay,” said the witch.

Finally, she was speaking in a language Kaipo could understand. The two monsters turned to her, appearing to hesitate. Anamu more so than Kalaki.

“I just spoke to Vanalath about your Brands. By receiving his boon, your potential has increased. I would be amazed if it hadn't. You can sense this, correct? The burning, hollow feeling in your heart? A driving need to fulfill yourself? It should be obvious to Peons like yourself.”

Kalaki gave a slow nod. The witch smiled at this, revealing her gleaming teeth.

“As I thought. The stronger that feeling, the wider the disparity between your past and current potentials. There’s something decidedly unique about that ghoul. I wonder how high… ah, never mind. I bring this up because he isn’t too happy about splitting his future with you two. You sense it too, I imagine? Peons can be remarkably sensitive to changes in their Master.”

Anamu clenched and unclenched his clawed hands, agitated.

“I should tell you that I’ve promised him information on how to revert the change he wrought, should you two fail to live up to expectations.”

Her tone, friendly yet somehow cold, caused a chill to run up Kaipo’s spine.

“Do you know the method I speak of? The only way to regain his original potential from you is for Vanalath to personally kill you both. That’s why I hope you will do your best out there. Don’t die to anyone else.”