“What? No, that is not necessary,” I said. “I do not believe he stole this coin. What I need is to speak with the person who gave it to him.”

Silence and stillness.

“Release him at once,” I ordered.

They let him go immediately. Perhaps he had been about to flee or they had apprehended him in an attempt to anticipate my will. Whatever the case, I couldn’t really be upset at any of them. Or, I could, but there was really no point.

Addressing the remaining soldiers, I placed a silver on the table for each of them. “Apologies for breaking up your game. It was not my intention. I promise he will return shortly.”

“Feel free to keep him as long as you need, my lord. We might get some wins while he’s gone.”

Surrounded by my detail, we walked with Sir Lucks-a-lot leading the way. I cracked myself up at the name, doing nothing to help settle the soldier’s nerves. My laughter tapered off as I thought about what he must be worrying about.

“This is where we played, lord. He should be around here somewhere.”

A few calls for the caravan leader brought him out, eyebrows raised at the sight of us. The sight of me, really. I knew it was my height and probably some of what he may have heard of me.

“Good evening. This fine soldier told me he acquired this coin from you,” I said, holding the coin up. “Is that true?”

“It is, your lordship.”

“Excellent. Would you mind telling me if you received it from a minister in Orya.”

“I… I did,” he whimpered. “Swear it came from them.”

I longed for the days when I could gesticulate to communicate again in so many ways. Trying to calm someone down without hand motions was alien and bizarre. Any attempt would probably be misread, as I assumed many of my gestures were.

“After visiting Kuriy’s shrine I presume?”

“Y.. yes. How could you know that, Lord Sully?”

He actually knew my name as well. I would need to remember to properly account for a high enough fame or renown stat when I finally got around to writing up my character sheet.

“My initials,” I said, pointing at the inscription. “I had offered it as tribute there myself.”

“And the coin of prosperity finds its way back to you, even as we travel the great god Kuriy’s own roads. Truly, you must be blessed.”

I cringed at the word. “It still belongs to this soldier actually,” I corrected. To show that this was the case, I returned it to the soldier. “I would like to hear of your experiences since receiving the coin.”

“Certainly!” He beamed.

The story he told began at the temple where he made an offering and prayed to Kuriy, as suspected. Throughout our first week on the road, his days were typical. Not good or bad, just another day as a caravan leader.

In small ways at first, his luck steadily improved. Finding an item that had been lost for months under a wagon seat. Picking up random coppers. Spilling food that had spoiled, preventing him from accidentally eating it. Another rugged roadsman paid back an old debt and the two made amends.

“Then I picked up another gold coin on the road during our stop for the day. It was wedged between the cobblestones.”

“Which is when you figured your luck had changed?”

“That is the right of it, my lord. Never been much for gambling, myself. After that though, I wanted to try my hand at it. Had a good run of it too.”

“And you eventually lost your lucky coin to this soldier?”

“Lucky coin? Nay, I lost some money. My good fortune though, it is a gift from the gods themselves. Even now. I have been granted the opportunity to meet the great Lord Sully the Demonslayer.”

I smiled, albeit awkwardly, in response to the intended compliment.

It was too soon to know if that was true or not, but I believed it to be tied to the coin. What I did not know was why.

“I appreciate you sharing that with me. This is for your troubles,” I said, handing the caravaneer and the soldier each a silver.

“See! My luck continues.”

I bid both men a good evening and made my way back to camp. The soldier chose to travel a different route back to his camp. Not that I could blame him given what he seemingly expected would transpire at first.

If my argenti weren’t busy, I would have told them what happened immediately. Instead, I wrote it all down in my journal.

Their luck could be an imposed view on random occurrences; a coincidence. We often perceive the world around us through a specific bias. Optimists tend to focus on the good, and pessimists focus on the bad. Perhaps they were both just being positive.

No matter how much I tried to convince myself of that idea, it would not stick.

Contemplating the will and actions of higher powers, and their existence in general, did not fit with my current worldview. The notion made me nauseous. It is much easier for me to ignore the possibility that there are such beings, than wondering why they would do… anything.

With longer nights, it felt later than it was. Sleep often evaded me for a time, so I went to work on the damned bag project. That is to say I read, wrote, and postulated without doing much of anything until I was exhausted.

After our morning routines, we set off again. The trip itself wasn’t bad, to be fair. When we left Orya I was not sure what to expect, but this level of comfort and ease was not it. Paved roads had been a nice surprise considering how long they lasted.

I told both of them about my encounter the night prior. Dorstark’s response was as expected; people place their faith in superstitions. Morslon was inquisitive, but indifferent. Thankfully that conversation had not dragged on.

Days later we reached another small waystation at a crossroads. The well worn path of hard packed earth split off to the east and west. Our path was due south. We passed through the outpost at the foot of the mountains, leaving the northern lands of Norvos well behind us.

The trip through the mountain roads took days. Longer than I had expected. Soaring peaks and walls of stone maintained an ominous, almost oppressive presence. Still, they were leagues better than the frequently perilous cliffs and sheer drops.

I did my best not to look out of the carriage most of the time. Not that I am afraid of heights, it just made me uneasy when the blinds were all open. One side would be a rock face and the other would be open sky. I felt as if the stone itself lived and wished to be rid of us tiny pests.

Each night I slept in the carriage, unable to actually set up our tents. My argenti chose to not sleep in such a confined space. Not that I could blame them, knowing how often I woke myself up.

Most others had to sleep under the stars after their grueling day on foot. I did not envy their situation in the slightest. At least in my fancy box on wheels I could pretend that the noises and howls were only the wind.

The city of Gorn waiting for us on the other side was such a welcome sight. One more night of camping in the mountains before we would parade through the city the following afternoon.

Because it was a parade, I decided to ride a horse through the city. Nespolan graciously offered her largest horse, further accentuating my abnormal height. The magnificent creature was too large for most of them to ride and was the largest horse I had ever seen.

A couple failed attempts at properly mounting the damned thing later and I decided I would have to change. There was probably a right way to get into the saddle while wearing a robe, but I couldn’t be bothered to ask anyone. I threw on some jeans under the robes, then cut a long slit in the front and back. Good enough.

The High Commander and I rode at the front of the endless column as we entered the city with our entourages trailing. Norvosian banners and pennants flapped in the winds coming off the mountains from our backs.

More than once I nearly waved to the small children who jockeyed for the best vantage point. Further behind, nobles rode horses or in their carriages. Following them were the mounted knights. After the knights, thousands upon thousands of Norvosian soldiers marched on foot. Their precession would take hours to pass through the city.

The main road through Gorn, and the city itself, gently sloped down from the mountains. From high atop the horse I could see straight to the city gates. Tall buildings rose on either side of the broad road, obscuring my view of this part of the city. Further south though, I could see beyond their tops to the rest of the city.

A wall hugged the city, meeting the mountainside to the east and west. I only knew this from reading about it and could see most of the southern portion of the fortification. If I had to guess, which I did, it was just over four kilometers from one gate to the other.

Gorn was at least a couple times larger than Orya had been. In a way, that made sense when I thought about it more. We were nearing the heart of the Norvosian kingdom. Anyone wanting to travel through the mountains would want to take this route to avoid the additional weeks it would take to go around, or risk going a less travelled path through them.

As usual, I knew I resembled a bobblehead - constantly nodding instead of my customary gesture. Nespolan did so less than a tenth as much, so I decided to reign it in a bit. People gawked and spoke to one another as I rode past, dominating their attention.

My unnamed horse pranced along the street, glad to be free of its drafting duties. I couldn’t be sure of that of course. It just felt right. Having never been much of an equestrian, I could only estimate its height to be somewhere above twenty hands. Taller than I was at its withers.

Nespolan, riding just ahead of me, is only slightly taller than her horse… which is saying something. This meant that, mounted as we are right now, her head was roughly just above my waist.

There was no way that anyone in the march, or along the streets, could not see me. The top of my head peaked above everything, save the buildings and maybe a couple of our largest coaches. Maybe.

My giant black stallion might have loved it just as much as I did. It was perfectly absurd. Of the limited amount of things I have done in my new world, this parade was by far the most fun to date. Noble civility be damned, I laughed.

We exited the southern gate about an hour after entering from the north. With plenty of daylight left we set up camp just outside the city for a couple days before continuing our trek.

After the last inn, I had about as much desire to stay at an inn as I did to stab myself with a rusty fork. Hard pass. Morslon didn’t even suggest it, thankfully.

A lively debate kicked up before nightfall about whether or not to continue our movie night this close to the town. Volk and Dorstark were opposed. Morslon and I were for it. Nespolan abstained. Movie nights would continue as I decided my vote would be a tiebreaker on the matter.

Then we debated whether people from within the city itself would be allowed to join in. I saw no reason not to and made the executive decision that we should with no one strongly opposing the idea.

A visit to my quartermaster with Volk was in order. Or, I decided it was anyway. Everyone in my small army would be better equipped, more comfortable, more well fed, and hopefully better trained than the average Norvosian soldier if I could help it.

He already had the coin I’d given him before and now he had some work to do with it. Each of them would be awarded a five silver bonus to enjoy their free time in Gorn - in shifts, of course. I added that amount to what they had already. It only set me back about thirteen gold. Nespolan was still covering their wages until I would eventually leave Videm too.

Things like that would help keep it all in perspective that I am rather wealthy now.

That settled, we ventured back into town before dusk. Our first stop was to purchase white fabric specifically for a movie screen, which was easy enough and didn’t take long.

“Is there any way we could make money buying goods here and selling them in Videm?” I asked my argenti.

“There likely is, however I fear that I must admit my ignorance in such matters. Little of my time has been spent among, or studying, merchants and traders,” Dorstark said.

“As he said, it is likely. You could probably ask one of the caravan leaders or traders traveling with us for their counsel,” Morlson offered.

“Why would they help me earn money?”

He shrugged. “Offer them a share in the bounty or pay them outright.”

“That is… a great idea, actually.”

I actually thought of the perfect person. Not that I knew anything about him, but the one who lost the coin was really the only one I knew. That was enough for him to be the ideal, and only, candidate.

“Suggestions about who I should talk to about it?”

Both shook their heads.

“Alright, I have someone in mind then. We can talk to him later tonight or tomorrow though.”

A list of ‘things to buy’ hadn’t been made and I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment we needed. We had plenty of supplies that Nespolan provided. My quartermaster would be purchasing additional goods too. The involuntary guests even had plenty of spare clothes from their camp.

We strolled through one of the market squares, looking at stalls. What would be profitable to sell in Videm? Window shopping gave me no insight whatsoever. Each person attempted to hawk whatever wares they were slinging, of course, so it’s not like they would be of any help. They would try to pawn their whole stand of goods if I asked for their input.

Eventually we stumbled across a bookstore that reminded me of the little esoteric shop I had worked for. The slight hint of vanilla and the musk of old texts greeted me as I entered. Nearly any combination of ‘bookish’ smells were among my favorites.

With my argenti’s help, we selected some twenty-odd books. They were all manuscripts I did not have copies of yet. The only other things I purchased were a bunch more blank texts.

That was it for our first trip out. I hired a carriage for half a silver worth of coppers to bring us back out to our camp so we would not have to carry everything.

Watching the buildings and people pass by, something struck me as weird.

“Are those skane?”

They looked out the window to see the group I was gesturing toward before nodding.

All skane I had seen thus far were smaller orcish lizard creatures, and they were various green or brown hues. Mini-orcs or large goblins really. These were all grey and stood the same height as most of the humans around them, some were taller.

Stranger yet, there were also others even smaller than the mini-orcs. Proper goblins… But scaly and at least fifty shades of… ashen, dusky, and iron shades.

“Why are all the skane with us green? I had seen some that were brown in Orya. Didn’t see any in Korolm. And why are these bigger and smaller?”

“Nespolan prefers that particular breed of them. The Nes family has been hatching them, exclusively, for generations. They are… better, perhaps, than most other tribes and lineages,” Dorstark said.

“Hatching them?”

“Yes, how else do you believe baby skane would come into existence?”

“Do we need to teach you about the ways of the world, Sully?” Morslon jibed.

I silenced him with a steely gaze. Truth was, I didn’t know. “How am I supposed to know if they are any different than I would expect? Reptiles can give live birth. So, tell me about them. Please.”

“As you already know, they are a savage species. They were once rather abundant in most lands. Nuisances that plagued civilized regions. Prolific creatures. Every spring they all lay a small clutch of eggs.”

“Wait, what do you mean they all lay eggs?”

“Exactly that. Each and every adult lays a few eggs on average.”

“Every adult? How?”

“See, we do need to have the talk,” Morslon said with a chuckle.

“I understand how babies are made. ‘Damnit.’ What I do not know is how both sexes could accomplish the feat.”

“Oh. That is rather simple. They are of one single sex and do not need a mate to breed.”

“So their offspring are all basically copies then?” There wasn’t a word for ‘clone’. With no other genetic parent, it was the only thing that made sense. We had creatures like that back home too. It just was not common.

“Maintaining a line should be rather easy then, right?”

“Not as simple to answer that, unfortunately. They can go through processes of metamorphosis and may mutate over their lifespan as well. It is not uncommon for them to adapt or change within their eggs either.”

That made absolutely no sense to me. I gestured for him to elaborate.

“Out there, you saw three variations of the skane. They have quite a few according to the little I know about them. Some significantly taller than yourself, if those stories are to be believed.”

“How could they adapt or change though?”

“Depends on their surroundings. If you place a skane with a group of another breed, they may emerge in the spring more closely resembling the others. Sometimes wholly changing within a single season.” Dorstark gestured back out the window, though we had well passed them already. “The skane of Gorn were a tribe of them which dwelt in these mountains long ago. Rather popular too.”

Alright, definitely adding books on skane to the list.

“And the tribes originally from Orya’s region were brown?”

“No, actually. Those are said to have been stunning whites and bluish hues. They were more violent than most. I have never seen one, nor has anyone living I suspect. It is my belief that the climate there is far too cold for the creatures, given their tendency to hibernate during much of the winter in many regions”

“Why are they brown then?”

“Imported from somewhere else. Good swimmers according to the Mors.”

Morslon nodded in agreement.

“Okay. Next question, how does the Nes family maintain their line if they change so easily?”

“They sell them off or use them first for rejuvenations when that happens.”

“How are they special?”

“The Nes line of skane are stronger and hardier than most. Of the lines I have encountered, they are also the most docile, servile, and… smart is not the correct word for it. Attentive may be better suited.”

“And what happens if someone else chooses to breed their same line, or use it to improve their own?”

“That too is a simple solution. They are sterilized before any transactions are made. It is not a guarantee that others will not adopt some of their aspects, but few are ever sold anyway. They provide significantly less during rejuvenations, thus many are required for that purpose alone.”

Holy balls, or lack thereof, that’s harsh. I had no proof that they are anything more than livestock, as I have been repeatedly informed, but they are humanoid. I felt bad for their lot in this world.

What if they were just a tribal species? Did that give others the right to upend their simple way of life and enslave them? It wasn’t right to me no matter the case. There was however, quite literally, nothing I could do about it though.

Study them and learn more. That would have to be the extent of it. For now.