Two months after his first hunt, a question continues to rage within River's mind. It's a simple enough question that had too many arguements for and against it that, to the young man, both seemed correct. And that indecision is what keeps the thought stuck to the roof of his mind.

Should he have stepped in to help those adventurers?

Luckily for him and his peace of mind, interference wasn't necessary in the end. The odds of them failing seemed fairly slim at the time, but the timely return of their fourth member dropped it all the way close to zero.

Still, a measure of doubt remained. What if she didn't return? What if that pretty shield lady was forced to fight the goblins hand-to-hand? What would he have done? How could he have helped?

River is no soldier. He didn't learn combat magic or battlefield strategies from some kind of college, not that one would have accepted a lowly slave like himself. There were no assassins guilds or ranger enclaves for him. He had no knack for such things anyway.

For the hundredth time, these thoughts buzzed around in his head as he finishes up working on the main, and currently only, basement floor. This area is as large as River's room-floor, but looks as though it were carved from a single, enormous slab of light grey granite which was hollowed out to look like the hangar of a commercial jet. Unless one uses high tiered analysis magic, no one could spot a single seam or joint refuting this notion. Agmus Mak simply calls it "The Ritual Room."

The nonporous surface and its color helps make it the perfect area to draw in the magic circles with chalk. One could use salt, but chalk is easier to clean up or redo if necessary.

Before one walks into this area, however, they must first make their way through the Ritual Room's storage area. This warehouse like room is where Mak keeps magical components necessary for ritual spells, a special kind of essence that could be cast even though they were not part of one's deck. They worked in a similar fashion as the Butcher support card in that they required another, specific kind of card in order to work:

Skill, Ritual Casting III Xperia: 100% (maxed) Any Tier Action Any Class

- Able to competently deploy magic circles intended for Ritual support essences and cast such Spells by hand

-Max tier of permissible Spells is equal to the tier this essence is slotted

- A greater understanding of magic circles is acknowledged up to the tier this essence is slotted

Once equipped at the appropriate tier, the player could hold the ritual support card in hand and cast the spell just like that. The card didn't expend and could be used repeatedly. One of the most popular ones used is the fifth tier essence, Spatial Fold Doorway, that allows the player to create a pair of magical, two-way portals that connect two predetermined locations. Leveled up, the player can travel farther and even allow more people to make use of it.

Now, with many years of experience and experimentation, Agmus Makamendius learned a very useful trick that he never shared with anyone else until now.

The ritual spells are very much dependant on tier capability. A player can't cast Spatial Fold Doorway if they only had Ritual Casting in tier one. When RC is maxed out at level III, more intricate knowledge of how the circles actually work is imparted to the player. For SFD and other spatial essences, drawing a circle simultaneously creates an exact copy at the destination on the other side.

Another important aspect is that the circles don't have time limits; they're either dismissed or destroyed by at least ten percent with means as simple as erasing part of it.

Now, what the wise wizard learned is that the center of Spatial Fold Doorway's ritual circle is actually another, simple circle that one learns in tier one. That circle is exactly ten percent of the whole, and, if erased, prevents the spell from activating. Repairing it requires a specific set of knowledge given at level III of Ritual Casting. This allows a tier one caster to essentially cheat the system and make use of a higher tiered spell.

Now, why is any of this important? Why does someone like River have to go through all this just to use a spell that he couldn't originally cast in the first place? Why all the trouble of casting a spell, erasing it, and redrawing it again? As Agmus Mak explained, there are two very important reasons that this trick is so useful.

First, since the portal is two-ways, it prevents unwanted people from traveling between the locations without having to dismiss and recast the entire spell, wasting expensive components. This is especially helpful when using the portals in hostile environments.

Second, it is extremely important to draw and redraw the circles exactly how they're meant to be done. Ritual Caster at level II may have an idea of how the runes and shapes are supposed to look, but if done incorrectly the worst case scenario could be catastrophic. That's why, in times

of battle, there's always a pair of combat ritualists, just in case something happens to one.

The only battle right now is River fighting to stay awake-- it's nearly three in the morning. He finished cleaning and reorganizing the storage area before midnight and it didn't take him long to dust mop the entire ritual floor, except the broken SFD circle. He was given specific instructions to wait for a message from Mak to redraw the circle as quickly, but accurately, as he's able. In order to do that, he needed to wait close by in the basement.

To help him pass the time he did the work in the storage area, but he also brought a crate of books, equipment, and cards he was interested in reviewing and possibly using during his hunting trips.

After completing the list of chores and projects that popped into the old man's head the other day, River was given permission to hunt in the forest. He used that opportunity to gather food, loot, and experience, bringing him quickly to level twenty, but his progress started to plateu. River smiled to himself, thinking about the possibilities and wondering what level the shieldbearer and her team is now. What was her name again?

Fern? Fire-gah? Fyrg? That's it. Fyrg… Is that short for something? he continues to ask himself.

As he had promised Agmus Mak, he would leave his second tier alone for the moment, but he was free to mess with the rest of first tier. With so many blank cards, plus the ones he earned from each level up, swapping out essences shouldn't be any problem at all.

He wasn't sure what the old man has in mind, but he trusts his judgement. Even with all the cards he already slotted to his deck, there was more than enough space for him to play with.

Spoken Letter

From: Makamendius Broadway

"Riv-- River? River! Yes, River. Listen, River, it's time to do the thing. I have to go. Light it up, my boy. And ready a bottle of the best elven wine we have. What? Make sure its blue. She wants the blue stuff. No no no, don't worry, love, he--"

The audio message cuts off when it hits the fifty word limit. River is already holding a piece of chalk and running to the circle. It only takes him a minute to redraw it perfectly and an oval-shaped, deep purple vortex flickers into existence a foot above the center of the chalk drawing. An ethereal ramp descends from the strange, swirling disk of energy past the circle so the travelers wouldn't disrupt the lines.

Agmus Mak lurches forward into view with a Scylla woman and her mass of dark purple tentacles writhing beside him. Scylla are a race of top half humanoid, bottom half octopus people.

This one has lavender skin that appears moist to the touch, like something left out in the rain; eight, tapering tentacles with suckers ranging from thumbnail to thumb-size; a tight, black cocktail dress complimenting her Rubenesque torso; long, black hair tied back in intricate braids; a treasure chest's worth of golden jewelry; and a sultry voice like that of a wave withdrawing from the shore.

"Hello, darling," she calls out to him with a wink.

"There's my boy. There he is. That's my River, Grendella. My boy River." The old man continues to trod unsteadily forward, a quick hand gesture clearing away the chalk circle and portal. A pair of tentacles wind their way up and down his body, a third waving at River coquettishly. One of the woman's lithe, lavender hands is lavishly combing through his long grey beard.

Mak's message and earlier instructions make much more sense now that River sees how drunk he is. You wouldn't want to attempt a redraw if you were the least bit inebriated. Still, the boy nods to them respectfully before running ahead of them to the stairs. He ignores the older man's drunken ramblings, but he's almost compelled to listen just because of the way Grendella speaks.

"Chosen one? Like a hero?"

"He can do everything, all-- all by himself… The greatest… He's got all the classes. Like me… like a boss… a boss monster…"

She lets out a sincerely impressed sound, a hand bringing fingertips to her indigo lips, "Banished gods, does he really? Does he have a Magician core as well?"

"What? No, no… He's--"

By now River is racing down the stairs and heading through to the walk-in pantry, so he doesn't get to hear the rest of the conversation.

Agmus Mak will probably stop by the grand room to show it off first, but skip the others so River doesn't have a lot of time to spare. He grabs one of the bottles of blue elven wine and the magical wine bucket set with two glasses from the kitchen.

He bolts back up the stairs, skipping all the other floors up to the ninth. There's a bit of an entry hall before the door of Mak's room and next to the wooden door is a waist high table where he sets the wine in the bucket. The magical container works right away to regulate the wine to the perfect temperature.

With a quick adjustment of the bucket's orientation, he nods approvingly and moves swiftly back down the steps. The enchanted stairs make it so they don't have to pass by each other and River heads to the basement to bring his crate of stuff back to his room. Once there, he finds a towel, a robe, and a small toiletries kit in one of the piles. He puts them all in a basket and sets them by Mak's door.

Laying in his own bed, River shuffles through a stack of tier one cards, still amazed that Agmus Mak managed to keep so many after selling hundreds more. His thoughts wonder, once again to the party he witnessed in the woods.

He wasn't able to see them again since then, but he did manage to see a handful of other parties. One such party had a caster in it and he watched how their strategy prioritized him as the damage dealer while the others either played supportive or defensive roles.

Another group had some kind of singer who gave the others a boost while she also strummed an instrument that somehow scored slices on the bodies of their attackers.

That party was weird.

They also had the first person he noticed fighting with their fists, instead of with magic or weapons. They didn't wear any armor, from what he could see, only tight fitting clothing. As close as they got to the monsters during the fighting, it seemed that they relied on their dodging to completely avoid attacks rather than a high defense to absorb them. They were doing really well until a strong and lucky attack sent them flying.

After that they barely squeezed a victory out. River surmised that since they didn't have a designated damage dealer or healer the battle was harder. Sure, they had people that had two classes, but they didn't have enough experience to manage either efficiently. Maybe someday, if they live long enough and pick up more essences, they'll be able to.

A thought occurs to River. Its a kind of thought that's a flame on a candle on a distant, midnight mountain. But, just like the latter party, given time it could maybe grow into something substantial. Its an interesting thought, but a thought it shall remain for now.

Besides, there are more important things to worry about, like what should he prepare for breakfast tomorrow? Will they even be up that early? Do Scylla have special dietary needs?

Wasn't there a book about something like that over in the tenth stack by the chest of sand?

The following morning, River surveys his work. The cooking skill he saw before specializes in utilizing monster meat. Agmus Mak once explained that due to the amount of mana involved during their creation, food from monsters have additional requirements that a regular, non-player wouldn't meet.

Luckily for River, and Mak of course, the cooking essence also magically imparts the accumulated knowledge of a cook working in a diner-type establishment for about six months-- a bit of everything with nothing too fancy or complex. Simple, but hearty and tasty.

One of his previous masters used to make him help in the kitchen, not trusting him to actually cook, but he was always watching the other slaves. The kitchen always felt like a different sort of magic.

Breakfast was a success: boar bacon and eggs with silverberry jam on toast for Agmus Mak and grilled rootfish and roasted snails from a nearby stream for Grendella. Both were impressed by his meal choice for the Scylla, but he just accepted their praise with a curt bow. There was no time to talk about the books he's been reading in his room.

Grendella didn't stay for lunch, but Mak couldn't have been more pleased with the way River handled the whole situation. While not exactly promising anything, he did imply that he might take the boy with him on his next trip to the city. It would've been a treat for anybody else his age, but for a slave like River, the accreditation was a reward in and of itself.

Later that night, River wades through the somehow growing piles of stuff on his floor. He could've put everything to the side against the walls to give himself more space around his bed, but the fantasy that all of the stuff belongs to him is quite uplifting.

One pile in particular is made of all the things he set aside that caught his attention. And, unlike his master, he had found a way for everything to be kept neat, tidy, and easily accessible.

An eight foot tall, three door wardrobe organizes his little stash. Agmus Mak had to teleport it to the room because even with the two of them they aren't strong (or crazy) enough to physically haul it across both rooms and the stairway.

The center door hides a closet rod with clothes already hung up, all cleaned, pressed, and ready for action. Doing the laundry is basic slave knowledge 101.

There are only a dozen or so outfits, but most of them are clothes that Agmus Mak had enchanted when he was younger. There's an outfit in the center being given a bit of space from the others hanging up. Below it are the matching boots, seperated from the other shoes in a similar fashion.

Maybe I can wear this when we go to the city? He wonders this to himself, but he just shakes his head. It'd be such a waste. Maybe on the next hunting trip instead? I can test out all these bonuses.

With a push of his will, his ethereal parchment manifests before his eyes, hovering over him as he lays back on his bed. He's seen it before Agmus Mak told him about it, but no one had ever gone to such detail regarding what everything represented.

What each of the stats meant, the strange cube that turned out to be the decks of all six classes, the odd looking card on the side that he had always dismissed as nothing special.

A black star Tarot card. One, black star.

His number... zero.

The Fool.

He never felt foolish and he always tries to be someone who others would never consider a fool. He works hard, takes in everything that he can, and practices what he learns.

One time he heard the phrase, "Even a fool may be considered wise if they know when to remain silent."

He may have taken this advice to heart, but he hardly ever had much to say anyway. Or anyone who wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Actions speak louder than words."

He knew this was true, too, especially as a slave.

Rescued from a slave pit, given an entire tower floor to himself, gifted precious heirlooms and private possessions, imparting jealously guarded knowledge, freedom to raid the kitchen and pantry anytime he wanted, and the cards…

There are more cards hiding back under the red velvet couch than ten marketplaces combined.

These are the actions of a great man. Agmus Makamendius must be the greatest, most generous, most powerful man on Terrune to just do these things for him. River uses a sleeve from his sleepwear (honest to the gods clothes meant just for sleeping!) to wipe tears from his eyes.

That's why he doesn't mind serving him. That's why anything the old man wants done, it shall be done with maximum effort and pride.

There is a debt that the boy believes not even a lifetime of servitude can be repaid, but he will try.