Chapter 7 - The Legend of Glorious Korendur

Jae’thun merely stared at me impassively. I guess he really meant it when he said I would be getting nothing from him until he got his fight. Stingy bastard.

A polite cough was heard from my left. Oh, the healer.

“Yeah?”

“You are technically still my patient, so I would be honored to provide you with some nourishment,” the young man replied, bowing his head. Gotta be a priest of some sort, he practically glowed with that goody-two-shoes vibe.

It gave me the creeps.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” was my off-handed reply, but I was watching him warily. My instincts told me these two could be trusted, but as to how far.. that remained to be seen. And I’ve been known to be wrong before. It usually means I get to leave a whole lot of skin behind in order to extricate myself from whatever deathtrap I’d managed to land myself into. I wasn’t the type to give my trust easily, but it’s been known to happen.

Looking at the tall hunter, it seemed Jae’thun wasn't much feeling like going anywhere right then. I performed a quick study of my surroundings, then asked of the younger man, “Hey priest, this is your place, right?”

He nodded to me, “Please, call me Zephyr, and yes, this is my humble abode for the time being. And I am not a priest, I am a merely a lowly merchant trying to enrich the lives of those around me.” Really? “Humble abode?” “Enrich lives?” Who the hell uses that kind of language? Especially way out in the boondocks of society, the Arioch Wastelands?

“Zephyr, not that it’s any of my business, but what exactly are you doing here?” I inquired, genuinely curious, while Zephyr busied himself with a few jars propped up by one corner of the room.

He didn’t stop his labor as he spoke over his shoulder, “Whatever do you mean, good sir?”

I had to close my eyes and work my jaw from side to side in order not to throttle him. The way he spoke, the tone of his voice, everything about him.. it just set my teeth on edge. Looking at him with undisguised bewilderment, I wondered what exactly it was that made me so very uncomfortable around him.

Meanwhile Zephyr doled out some flat bread of some kind, along with hard cheese and some water. I noticed Jae’thun wordlessly accepted a share as well. I just couldn’t believe how cheap that guy was, self-proclaimed Grand Hunter of the Steppes mooching off of a priest. All the while I sat munching on my own piece of bread.

Hey, it was free and I was starving.

I noticed Zephyr himself did not leave any of the food for himself. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the stool where Jae’thun had squatted to eat.

“Hey, where’s your share?” I wondered out loud.

“Oh, I am not feeling in need of immediate sustenance at the moment, although I am grateful for your concern,” responded Zephyr with an easy smile.

Suddenly, I stopped chewing and looked down at my bread as though it had grown claws and fangs. It couldn’t possible be..

I heard an amused rumble echoing from the walls of the tent. I looked up to see Jae’thun regarding me with the closest thing to real mirth I’d seen on his face this whole time I’d known him. He pointedly looked at my food, then at me, then started chewing on his piece with renewed vigor.

Show-off..

I responded in kind. I had to admit it was ludicrous. If Zephyr had wanted to poison me, he could have just left me untreated and saved himself the trouble. Which reminded me..

I inspected the wooden splints and the bandages. Though the godawful stink of it from up close made my eyes water, it was a job well done by a practiced hand. After years of real combat experience, I could do as well of a job - probably faster, too - though my field dressings never looked quite so neat and orderly. I squinted at the enigmatic young man once more.

“Since when do wandering merchants know how to set broken bones and mix herbs? Most busines.. ah, merchants from my land would be too busy learning how to count their money faster to bother with first aid techniques.”

Zephyr smiled at me with a truly beatific expression. I kid you not. Beatific. It’s the first time I’ve had the chance to use the word in my whole entire miserable existence. This guy lit up the room with that smile, like a saint descended from above.

“I was once a disciple of the Holy Order of the Lady Arabelle, patron Goddess of all those seeking refuge from ailments of the flesh and spirit, may her grace shower us all with her benevolence. However, that part of my life is now in the past, and I am as you see me now, a humble practitioner of the arts of the coin and exchange of valuables.”

I tried not to gape at the response. Was this guy for real? I literally had to struggle against my gag reflex as everything I’d eaten was threatening to become uneaten. To occupy my mind, I glanced sideways at the bales of cloth occupying one side of the room. They looked well cared for, stacked high and almost touching the ceiling. That couldn’t be good.

“That’s a rather alarmingly high stack of merchandise. Looks like it hasn’t moved for a while, too. Business is not going very well, I take it?”

Zephyr's shoulders sagged minutely as his cheeks colored. “The Lord of Scales and Weights has not seen fit to bestow his blessing upon my travails as of yet, no. However, I shall persevere with full confiden-”

Not one to miss a weak spot on others, I pushed, “Just how much in the red are you?”

Zephyr stopped abruptly and his eyes took on a slightly haunted look. Then they returned to normal and he was all tranquil benevolence once more. “I would not bore you with the details..”

“Oh no, please do. I used to oversee a number of quartermasters for entire regiments.. err, that is to say, I had a vested interest in keeping a very close eye on tally numbers and inventory reports tallied by others back in my homeland. Many of them were overly.. creative in their interpretation of sums and minuses, especially when numbers became hard to track, if you take my meaning.”

Zephyr nodded judiciously, granting me the point, “Indeed, some of my fellow devotees of the Order of the Weights and Measures can be a little.. overenthusiastic in reaching for higher profit margins.”

Highway robbery, more like. I’d caught a number of the quartermasters for the troops under my command red handed, shifting inventories and shortchanging me on supply costs. A single dot to either side of the real figure could suddenly make a man making a comfortable living from controlling supply requisitions for a small platoon, into a bloody minor magnate, such were the vast amounts of federal credits that were the pumping lifeblood of the beast known as the United Federation Army. They could make a killing in one single supplies manifesto or munitions order.

Of course, that had come to a rather abrupt end after I’d made a killing or two - in the most literal sense of the word, of course - out of the first few who ignored my stern warnings the first and second times I’d caught such practices. Nothing like the prospect of facing military tribunal and summary execution on charges of wartime treason and conspiring with the enemy to sabotage allied troops to put some backbone and a tiny dash of integrity on a man, no matter how crooked or corrupt.

Of course, that didn’t make me very popular with the highly placed men who’d been profiting behind the scenes, but I digress.

Finishing the last of my bread and brushing off the crumbs from my hands, I stood gingerly. Good, looked like the food and rest had helped.

“Status Window,” I mumbled softly, trying my best to ignore the curious stares from Jae’thun and Zephyr. I guess they were not users. If so, then that was damn fine AI scripting right there.

Very impressive. I would have bet anything that they were human, just like me.

*Diiing*

Status WindowName:SethAlignment:NeutralLevel:1 (95% XP until next level)Class:ScholarRace:HumanAffiliation:Ancient HistoryGender:MaleTalent:Stubborn MuleTraits

Flawed Soul

Paranoid Survivalist

RelentlessAchievements

Training Day Disaster

Fame:1000Infamy:0-Health:2 / 7 (Increased Recovery Rate)Soul:5Mana:28 / 28????Stamina:8 / 8 (Increased Recovery Rate)????-Strenght:6Agility:6Vitality:9Intelligence:10Wisdom:10Charisma:4Luck:12-Attack:3Defense:3Physical ResistancesSlashing:0Piercing:0Crushing:0Elemental ResistancesFire:0Water:0Wind:0Earth:0Light:0Darkness:0

I tried not to get too depressed about the numbers. I flicked a glance at Jae’thun and wondered what his attack and defense values were. Actually..

“Hey Jae’thun, what is your attack stat?” I just bit the bullet. Might as well get it over with.

As expected, Jae’thun stared at me as though I’d asked him what size of bra he wears when crossdressing at the local gay bar. “Attack stack?”

“No, attack STAT,” I murmured, realizing it was no use. So, Jae’thun was definitely not a user. I glanced at Zephyr.

“How about you Zephyr?”

“I am afraid I have no desire to invest in an attack stall. I beg your forgiveness, but all of my financial assets are otherwise engaged at the moment.”

UGH. I should have known better than to ask. What kind of user would choose to speak like that?

From the shocking lack of any real momentum behind my attacks and the ridiculous ease with which I had taken as thorough a beating as I ever had in my life.. well, I assumed 2 points in either were dismayingly low. Even fat slugs like Tarik must have at least 10 or 20 points. Then again, I was at level one. I squinted at Jae’thun, wondering what level that bastard was. At least 20, my guess was. Hell, maybe even 40 or some ridiculous number. Fact of the matter was, I had no idea how difficult a level was to attain in Aeterna, or what the benefits were.

In other words, 5 Strength might as well be 50 for all I knew. What benefits did Intelligence or Wisdom yield to me, anyhow? I certainly didn’t feel any smarter, or wiser. My luck stat happened to be my highest at the moment, thanks to my Talent: “Stubborn Mule.”

I snorted loudly, ignoring the quizzical looks from Zephyr. Fat lot of good that Luck stat had done me so far. I had to admit it, I had taken a mad gamble, ignoring fat devil guy's advice on character creation and relying on what little information I'd been able to gather before entering Aeterna. It looked like this was one of those few occasions when it had backfired.

Then again, when those damn fleas had been intent on leeching my blood away as I lay helpless in the sand, the passersby had unwittingly rescued me by dumping bucket after bucket of water on me to get rid of the stench. When I’d been helpless to stop Tarik’s final attack, Jae’thun had been there to stop what would surely have put an abrupt end to the very, very brief candle that had been Seth’s life on Aeterna.

Coincidence? Maybe not.

I shook my head to clear it of all these useless conjectures. The fact remained that I was a damn sorry trainwreck waiting to happen. I was so weak I couldn’t even punch others lest I end up crippling myself instead. I had no idea how much 5 stamina was, but if my luck held, it meant I would likely faint dead away after a 50 yard dash - if I even made it that far.

“Achievement Information: Training Day Disaster.”

*Diiing*

Achievement: Training Day DisasterFrom the lowly worm, growing into the mysterious pupa, and eventually unfolding into the winged wonders known as butterflies. This is the circle of life. Every soul must toil and sweat to find its way, though someone always breaks the mold - in a spectacularly disastrous fashion.

Congratulations, you have managed to inflict a life-threatening injury upon yourself in your first day of training. Your instructors, if you had any, would likely resign and choose to retreat to a remote cave in the middle of nowhere, to live out their lives in quiet contemplation, rather than risk further contact with a living disaster such as yourself. Take heart, however. The fates have taken pity of your plight and grant you their blessing!

Well done, recruit!

Strength +2

Agility +2

Vitality +3

Wisdom +2

Intelligence +2

Luck +3

If I could get my hands on the script writers of this place..

Actually, the stats I derived from this achievement seemed abnormally high to me. It was almost comparable to my god-given talent - quite literally granted to me by a god with a lousy sense of humor - "Stubborn Mule". Then I realize achievements didn't have ranks. Perhaps that explained it. They were a one time deal.

Anyhow, this achievement would certainly come in handy. Still, it just wasn’t enough.

Here is where I must revisit and readjust my grand master plan once again. I went through it in my head one more time.

The reasons for choosing the Scholar class had been legion, enumerated, checked and rechecked with deliberate care in light of all available information at that time.

First and foremost, I had utter confidence in my physical prowess, on and off the field of battle, with or without weapons, against one or multiple opponents. After a certain level of proficiency, you come to realize that brute strength yields increasingly diminishing returns. Just because you punch twice as hard doesn’t mean you will land that punch at all. Most real life fights began and ended within the space of a handful of heartbeats. Whoever got that critical hit in first could wound, cripple or otherwise inhibit the other’s ability to fight, therefore reducing their combat capabilities by 30% or more.

Same goes with speed. Sure, being faster means your attacks are harder to avoid and your defense improves by the same proportion. However, like in the tale of the hare and the tortoise, in real life the fastest rarely won the race - quite emphatically so if your opponent is me. I had never been the fastest, nor the strongest, yet I had very, very rarely lost a fight.

It came down to guts. Not just the courage to put it all on the line, take that one last step forward. Guts were the combination of battle intuition, real combat experience, and yes, the heart to put it all on the line, anywhere, anytime.

Did I mention I always play to win?

So, I’d spurned the combat oriented classes as inefficient for someone who had already mastered those arts like myself. Instead, I was intrigued by the prospect of limitless intellect and instinct bordering on prescience. I mean, what else could the Intelligence and Wisdom stats stand for? Eidetic memory, instant and full recall, an infallible nose for trouble - almost like a spider-sense, from those old comics back home.. you name it, I had high hopes for those stats.

Magic, you say? Hell no, I ain’t wearing no pansy ass robe for a second longer than I absolutely must. All that mumbling and chanting and praying for communion with the spirits of nature and arcane powers? Screw that, my fists had plenty of power for all that and more. So, shunning the meatheaded combat oriented classes and the frankly embarrassing magic wielding ones, I’d been left with the scholars, which didn’t sound so bad when you really thought about it.

And there, we come upon the second reason for choosing the Scholar class. I’d assumed that if warriors gained experience by warring, thieves by thieving, and magicians by magicking, then scholars should be able to level up well enough by focusing on their, well, schooling.

I’d always been a quick study. I graduated top of my class from West Point, and as I’d said earlier, I’d never been the strongest nor the fastest. I could definitely vie for the title of the most knowledgeable or cunning, however, with a fair degree of credibility to the claim. Just ask all the sore losers I crapped on while climbing my way to the top of the ranks. So yeah, I excelled at academic studies. I fairly devoured any instruction I had not already acquired. After all, knowledge is power. If as a Scholar, that very act gained me level after level, so much the better!

I also needed something that would propel me to the heights of power in as short a period of time as possible, and thus we arrive at yet another vital reason for choosing the Scholar class, as well as my choice for a starting area. I simply did not relish the prospect of spending the next 50 years in Aeterna chasing after every tiny iota of power in my mad dash to achieve godhood. I work hard when I must, yes, but I also work smart, which is even better.

See, in any kind of established power structure, there’s the high and mighty overlords on top, the midling ranks attempting - and mostly failing - to reach such heights, and the bottom feeders, stuck in abject misery at their appalling worthlessness. I would start right in at the very bottom of the latter ranks.

That was a problem.

So, I could either attempt to claw my way up the ranks within the established power structure through the regular and well proven - and highly inefficient as well as mind-bogglingly resource intensive, both in time and energy - way, or I could simply set my feet and rock the boat, then wait to see what falls out. I had the confidence to say it wouldn’t be me, at least not first. Or second. Oh no, I was a born fighter, and I could duke it out with the meanest of them.

In other words, I would snatch someone else’s power for my own. It is a constant as universal as death and taxes. Wherever there is power, there will be those who will try to usurp it for themselves - sometimes through the most crooked and messy ways. I wouldn’t mind taking such a shortcut myself. So, I needed a role model. Someone whose steps I could follow.

I had risked a great deal to acquire certain information before entering Aeterna. My query had been a simple one: I wanted to know where the largest and most sudden power vacuum had happened in the face of Aeterna.

Why, you ask?

Simple, allow me to illustrate: Say you’re having the time of your life riding around in your brand new Ferrari, the only one in town. Everyone bows and scrapes for you, and you can’t get enough action with the girls. Then one day this upstart arrives in town driving a Lamborghini. Suddenly, your shiny Ferrari is looking dull and slightly dated. What do you do?

You challenge him to a race. Then you mess with his brakes, and watch him tumble to the bottom of a very steep cliff. You get my point.

If theoretically anyone could achieve godhood in Aeterna, given enough power and influence, then if I were one of those selfsame gods, I might be more than a little jittery. Extremely possessive, to the point of paranoia. After all, if I had reached the pinnacle, why wouldn’t someone else? So what do you, a reigning god, do when the upstart suddenly rides into town in a shiny new Lambo?

You crush him. Utterly, without mercy or quarter asked or given. Then you bury him in the deepest hole you can find, and make sure everyone forgets about the whole bloody affair.

That’s why I was suddenly very interested in finding the greatest power vacuum on Aeterna. I had some leads, some promising seeds, but I needed more. And in order to search out those tendrils, sniff out the trail, I would need more information.

Dangerous information. The type that got whole empires buried under a shitload of rubble. Or sand.

Yeah. Sand.

The Arioch Wastelands.

This is where I would start my search. Unless I was badly mistaken, somewhere underneath the dunes of the Endless Steppes, lay the Legendary Great Imperial Library of Glorious Korendur.

Fair, glorious Korendur. Even the name has faded from memory, according to my sources. However, it was once the shining beacon of light and civilization on this entire blasted land. Full of fertile valleys and wondrous vistas, it was a land of prosperity, progress, and might. So much so, that it drew the attention of the gods, and one night mighty Korendur was no more, its very memory wiped from the minds of all the denizens of the lands. Or in case that proved impossible, then those very denizens being wiped from the lands. Either way worked.

Such was the way of the gods.

I could hardly wait to be one myself. Ha. Haha.

In the vaults of the Great Imperial Library, I hoped to find more than simple trinkets of power. I thirsted for knowledge. Where would I find the power I craved for, and how would I make such mine?

I order to find the answer to those all-important questions, I needed to reclaim ancient and fair Korendur from its desert grave of a millennia or more.

Well, that had been the plan. All well and good, but now..

I stared at my broken right hand. My still-trembling legs. My pansy ass robes.

I had to admit I’d gotten just a little bit derailed here. No matter, time to correct the course. And to do so, the first step would be to acquire a different kind of power.

Finally raising my eyes after what had seemed an eternity of contemplation, I nodded to Zephyr, “So, you were going to show me the tallies from your surplus inventory?”

Money is power, and power is POWER after all.

It was a start.