The Jade Divide

As the dinner came to a thankful close, I left the dining hall for the main entrance where Grimalkin was waiting on me. “It would seem that I am a gift, Sir Paladin, Lord-Governor Leere has dictated that I am now in your employ instead of his own.” Handing me a paper with a weird symbol on it, like a combination of the modified X on Vansen’s hat, but there were symbols surrounding it.

A bit of whatever he had imbibed earlier still in Grimalkin’s system as he leaned close to me, laying on my shoulder and whispering, “Between you an me, this is an upgrade, that old pile of fertilizer can rot for all I care, least you’re interesting!” He smacks my back, apparently meaning that as a compliment, but with his drunken stupor it’s hard to take anything at face value.

“Alright, so you will be my assistant then.” I try to remain more business-like so I don’t get too comfortable with him yet. Everyone seems like they know more than they’re telling, especially this one, I think it’s time I got some unfiltered answers. “Now, what is uhm, this piece of paper for?”

“That’s a transfer seal, I know you don’t have magic where you come but you don’t even know about contracts? Woooooooooow that place sounds awesome!” He sways back, bracing himself with both of his hands on my shoulders. One is never prepared for their first drunken cat-person; however, being from the middle of bourbon country, I know how to take care of an inebriated friend.

At least, possibly future friend, there’s less directed malice in his voice than the others. Which makes me more than happy to get out of that tense room, even if it is to be greeted by a tipsy valet. “Anyway, all you have to do is cut the back of your hand, and then spread the blood in a circle around the Martyr’s cross in the middle.”

Don’t think that slipped past me, ‘Martyr’s Cross’? At least I knew what that thing was called now so I can stop referring to it as that X thingy. I slice the back of my hand with a spare dinner knife. A deep purple energy wraps around him, the small cut I made on the back of my hand is stinging as I finish taking a finger and wiping it in a circle. “There, done, I guess you’re my assistant now!”

He laughs deep, a genuine smile crossing the wildcat face, or, at least I think it was a smile. “YES! Assistant, I shall be your assistant Grimalkin, Sir Paladin.” He’s still laughing, slapping his knee as he finishes what he says. Boy; this cat cannot hold his drink.

I study his face, the way he just said that leaves me with some unease. But, considering that his boxy muzzle wasn’t moving too much, and an obvious red glow from the cheeks behind the grey and cream colored fur, I couldn’t tell what was the drink and what was his own thoughts. His short, fluffy ears flicked quickly as I took too long and he noticed, “Hey now, you checkin’ me out buster??”

“Well, truthfully, I haven’t seen someone like yourself before, and we’re finally standing still long enough for me to really take you in.” The red tint grew brighter as he laughs and starts walking.

He looked roughly in his early twenties, barely past being a teenager. But then again, who am I to judge the age of a species I’ve never seen before. Even drunk his movements had an air of grace to them, always catching himself mid-stumble.

“I’m supposed to get you home too, it’ll be in the barracks so get ready for a walk” The cat pushes himself off of the centerpiece statue he was leaning on. Like all of the others I have seen; it was made out of jade, calling all of this tacky would be an understatement.

So, we left, the walk out of the walled city is much less eventful. My armor didn’t seem to gain any weight this time as we walked through the main garden leading to the gate. The amount of wealth on display even at night was just staggering.

Shops left their wares out, and these were not cheap shops, golden tipped daggers, swords of glowing steel, armor that at least to me looked like it had been forged from dragons’ scales. All of these things would clearly be worth a small fortune, yet the shopkeep left them out without a thought of their theft.

Exactly how well policed is the inside of this place?

We neared the jade gate, the walls were made of carved, curved, brick jade with a large gray wooden door. Noticing my gawking, the drunken cat gives me his best tour guide impersonation. “Oh yeah, the jade is mined out of the country, it’s brought in with the by-products of the mining, apparently the mine is also rich in clay, which is what we buy to make our homes.”

As we near the gate a guard runs up to us from inside a glowing room made of wood on this side of the wall. The guard checks me out and I hand him a paper I had gotten from Charlemagne, apparently it works like a passport to get in and out of the city.

As we walked through the gate one of the guards threw his tankard at Grimalkin, “Good riddance!” A small purple crackle raced over the cat-person’s body.

With clenched teeth and eyes that screamed murder, he looked at the guard and then at me. “Permission to seek recompense for the assault on the Paladin’s personal ‘assistant’ sir?” The last word was almost spat.

The way he looked at me, it looks like he has already tried and someone had stopped him right before he could pounce on his prey. Just like a wildcat on the hunt, he was locked in and I doubted I could calm him down on my own. Besides, that guard has it coming.

“Don’t maim him, kill him, or leave him disabled, got it?” I look at him dead in the eye, it seems he wasn’t expecting that response from me. The still tipsy, yet furiously angry cat’s face transforms into one not too dissimilar from when I would pet my own cat after being gone for an extended period of time. He looked at me like a drowning animal, fighting to stay afloat, that was the anger I saw in his eyes, that was the determination I had felt earlier.

He looked up at me with his face softened, more focused and cheerful than I have ever seen him. “Okay, I’ve thought about this since I was a child, for this to work, when I come back you need to loudly order me to return him his drink, filled, as recompense for my insolence.” Wow, that did not sound good, what’s up with the guards in this world? With phrasing like that it’s sounding more and more like my old one every second.

Grimalkin takes the tankard and hops up on a roof, and then around to the side where the outhouse is. It doesn’t take him long, coming back with a full cup of… beer? Well, with his full cup of yellow-brown liquid he didn’t spill a drop, which is especially impressive because the cat performed a full somersault when coming down from one of the roofs on his way back.

“I’m ready Sir Paladin!” then he actually saluted me, it feels like we’re just a couple of 8-year olds pulling off a prank, the smell once he had gotten closer made it clear that it wasn’t beer.

“Grimalkin, I order you to return that man’s tankard, with a full glass, courtesy of myself in payment of your insolence toward him!” I said as loudly as I could, the guard walked out of the station after a while, more than a bit drunk already as Grimalkin neared him slowly, handing him the tankard.

Possibly so as not to offend me he took a swig as soon as he got it and spat it out as quickly as he could! “YOU BASTARD PIECE OF GAME!” He tried to grab Grimalkin but the cat just hopped backwards and landed right on top of the man’s head then bounded off. Doing a full somersault kick, hitting him square in the chest as he began running away. I, of course, ran after him, after all I had been the one who ordered him to do it.

He’s laughing his head off as we round one, two, three, and four corners, making sure to lose our pursuers. “Oh, wow! That was better than I’d ever dreamed of!” Grimalkin half-whispers through his panting as we round the last corner when we could no longer hear our pursuers.

I can hardly stop myself from mixing laughing and panting, the armor had gotten lighter again, allowing me to keep up with Grimalkin, but even then just barely. As I brace myself against a wall I breathe deep, trying to flush the giggles from my system. Unfortunately, remembering such an epic spit-take by the guard I am forced into laughing again. “Okay, just what was in that mug? It smelled like a foul beer from my world.”

With barely caught breath the jovial feline gleefully said, “I got that from the urinal bucket in the latrine.” Which made me burst out laughing even more.

I hold my arm up, signaling I’m trying to catch my breath as a wave of laughter hits me so hard you would assume The Joker had gotten me. “Oh, dude, dude, that’s not even the best part.”

I get caught up by a case of the giggles again when I try to say it. Taking a moment I brace myself again, take a few deep breaths, and when I’m not in the middle of laughing say. “So, so I lied and told the Speaker that his name meant someone who did THAT on my world, drank their own piss.”

Grimalkin went back to literally rolling on the dirty street, holding his breath as he laughs, the adrenaline from this event clearly just increasing the hilarity. “Oh, oh wow, looks like Old Arrow-Head has competition then!” and the new insult for such a slithering man with such a dumb hat, the laughter came again.

This truthfully went on for another ten minutes, each of us telling minor jokes to each other through a haze of laughter. After those ten minutes came another, and then another, soon it had been an hour of us telling funny stories to each other; the laughter shrank, of course, over time.

“Well, the moon is still high, we’d better get you to your place, Sir Paladin,” Grimalkin concluded, getting up and offering me his hand… paw? Honestly, it was a mix of both, imagine a human hand, now add pads onto it and that’s very close, toss in his cream and grey spotted fur pattern and you get, TADA! Grimalkin’s hand.

I take the hand and get up as we start walking, “I take it we’re off course?”

He nods, “Yeah, but I know this town like the back of my hand, and you’re the Paladin, I doubt we have much to worry about.” He speaks, the drink having gotten mostly out of his system during the laughing fit. having an air of seriousness about him that he didn’t before.

We were soon strolling down the dank streets, wet clay in the streets from two-day-old rain clinging to our shoes and slowing our pace. Wood coming out of the tops of the clay structures denoting where the roof supports were. A lantern lights the road every half block and faint skittering can be heard around every corner depending on how hard one would listen.

I noticed that certain streets Grimalkin chose not to take in his winding path through the outer city would be blocked off with rubble, or the road so destroyed you would risk your own limb to trek it. Seeing the obstacles in the way made me realize that it was both best to follow his lead as he noticed them far before me, but that also, my vision was way better! Seems that ‘improved body’ or whatever Drunkalkin said had some proof.

Soon we walk by houses that are crumbling, you can see inside as a whimper, barely audible can be heard from my silent as-of-late guide. “Please, look inside, they won’t notice, just… if it’s you, someone from the future of the world Papaw described, then maybe if it’s you, you won’t just look away.” The whimper continues, out of respect I am afraid to touch him, merely deciding to honor his wishes as I put my eye to a crack, looking inside.

The inside was dark, with a small light from a dwindling gas lantern in the corner. Moonlight didn’t fall on that side of the room so it seemed this quarter of roof was all they had. A family sits beside the light, huddled close around each other, sharing a single tattered blanket with three large holes, and those were only the ones I could see. If I looked closely I could see that all four figures, two large and two small, were covered in fur.

“Th-that family of beastmen? I didn’t even see a light from outside; I thought this entire part of town was abandoned, destroyed in some weather event.” Having seen the firsthand accounts of a tornado, it wasn’t too far-fetched… but maybe that was just me deluding myself, what could possibly…

“Just beastmen? Look in another, family doesn’t mean blood ties in this part of town.”

I do as he says, looking at the house across from them, this time it’s another family I assume, it’s one adult human father, two small pups that would be the size of a 12-year-old, so I would assume… and a lizard-person the same size as the children. They were eating burnt bread, dripping slightly with water, with a thick slice of cheese on it.

I look back at Grimalkin, aghast, my mind running faster than I could imagine, horrors popping into my mind as I start crying, unable to do much else, he starts talking again. “That’s Terrance and his spouse, good guy; he used to be a soldier until his conscience couldn’t take it anymore. He got a look at this and couldn’t help it; he adopted two Beast-men orphans, that didn’t go over well with his superiors.

“See, it doesn’t look good for him to be ahem, ‘tutoring the rabble’. Asked him to turn in his resignation or the ‘mangy dogs’ must go.” I still dare not look at Grimalkin’s face, the fact I was just feasting while people not even ten blocks away had so little.

“I brought him the cheese, officially, these people are classified as ‘Homeless.’ There’s just enough support from the walled city so that they don’t all die in mass. Most are the non-human inhabitants lucky enough not to live inside the walls, beastmen and kobolds mostly. Like Terrance’s wife you saw in there, don’t worry about the size, she’s a good twenty years his senior. A few Centaurs and Slimes but they don’t live much in this city, and then there’s people like Terrence or other humans that find themselves down here.” Homelessness and poverty are problems in any universe, and unfortunately, I cannot say my world is any better, but… the gaul of those people inside of the walls.

Grimalkin stands, statuesque, not moving from the spot as he points to another house. Another family, no adults can be seen at first, there is a human child, warming its hands from another dying lamp. To one side of the child, a kobold, offering them food from a plate cleaned with a dirt-stained rag. To the child’s left, there’s a small, around 2-foot orb of opaque, green gelatin. Except it’s moving, extending and trying to comfort the child, wrapping around it. I could feel the emotion from a being that doesn’t even have a face as it tries to dry the silent tears I hadn’t even noticed from the child’s face.

The stone-faced cat-person joins in, “That kid lost its parents a few days ago, you aren’t even safe if you’re human in this country. Their parents were soldiers, off fighting the Demon Lord for the sake of the church and Lord-Governor. Yet when their father was slain on the battlefield, they were summarily thrown out of the walled cities child-care.”

“They don’t know much to talk about it, but it seems the soldier’s pay ran out the moment he died mysteriously enough. And being that the soldier had no other family, neither did the child, so here we are. Third class citizens taking care of the child of someone who would not have thought twice about stomping them into the ground for taking a crusty loaf of bread.”

I stand, angry, furious, and ready to start marching back to the gate and to demand a visit with Leere. Grimalkin’s words snap me out of it. “You won’t even remember tonight… I just wanted you to know why this is going to happen.” What did he mean? What’s going to happen?

Skill Select: Pain Vampire

What? That sounds like the voice I heard after I saved Vansen. The Deity slash non-Deity. Why is it selecting my skills?

Status: Forced Activation

A shrieking noise fills my brain as I feel the walls of my mind open wide, my tears start burning my eyes. “No, please… no more,” The pain, the hunger and despair, and worst of all the loneliness and panic. I feel the unending despair of a child, going to bed hungry for another time, unable to remember the last time they had a full belly. I feel the intense hatred of circumstances, hatred of those in power, but something stronger than that hatred… An emptiness carved itself into my belly. I feel the words ‘I’m sorry’ form on my lips, not apologizing for anything in particular, but the instincts of those around me flooding my mind tell me that’s the only way many of them survive. Apologizing to those above in the hope they might spare some lifesaving sustenance. Even though I’ve never had children I feel the fear of losing them, the pain of being unable to protect them from the harsh world I have brought them into.

Intensity: Psychic Phenomenon.

My mouth goes wide as I scream, I feel not only the physical pain of each injury but the weakness from the sicknesses, the loss of loved ones, the utter lack of hope.

Safety Levels: Exceeded… Devise protection method… Method found…

Curse Precaution: Memory Valve

Soul-Smelting: Initiated.

And then, the world was quiet and my eyes closed as I collapsed on the soft, damp ground.

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Private log of Grimalkin, grandson of Baltamus and Napoleon.

Month 7 day 9 Year 427

In less than a second after I pressed down and activated the rune, the Paladin doubled over, screaming in pain. I dare not look back, I dare not see his face as he realizes my betrayal, I thought I had steeled myself long ago to be the villain of scripture if need be.

“I’m sorry Sir Paladin, this was the only way, and I’m sorry Papaw, for using your classes in such an unseemly manner. I pray that this was for the best, that these people can finally get a good night’s sleep, and finally someone with some power might finally be on our side.”

To all others I would feign strength, never wavering, but in the book given to me by papaw, I cannot lie. Tears slowed, as I felt the pain the paladin would feel… the hunger of everyone on Dekker Street. A pain too great to cry over I stood sentinel, my tears drying before I moved to help the Paladin to the side of the road while I figured out where to go from here. The original plan had been to kill him, just like when I came up with it at the age of eleven.

“Why did someone like YOU have to be the Paladin? Why couldn’t I have done what I’ve dreamed of since I was a kit!?” I screamed at the Paladin in my quietest whisper. Just as I had forced one set of tears to end another one began. No matter who it was I can’t take killing someone in cold blood, and if I was feeling some of what the Paladin did through the stone… Then it may be cold of me to say this but I gain hope for the future through the pain that I just caused.

I had FELT the effect of the forced activation, the hunger, pain, everything… But to my mind they were normal, I’d felt them often. The crumpled mess of ‘Legendary Hero’ to my left made me feel like some grand villain or assassin…

That had been the plan, kill the hero when he shows up, hopefully, life gets better for everyone. The universe’s sense of irony was on full display.

“I know you’re supposed to be all heroic and everything, but all the other paladin’s were fine with it. Why was it the Paladin of my generation that sounds like the one from that dusty old book?” I kick a large clay lump, softened by the rain, all the water makes it disintegrate mostly, the rest stuck round my paws. “Eyugh!”

Securing my prized dagger, the only thing left I have of mom, I lift the paladin, doing my best to pull him over my shoulder but he’s just too heavy. His armor must weigh a ton, after changing my position I try again, piggy-backing him up on top of me.

And so I carried him all the way back to the barracks, it took a full two hours to get him and the world’s HEAVIEST armor back to the room, but I managed it. And now, as I lay down to sleep, I am troubled by a thought.

If, even a week ago, someone were to tell me that the next Paladin would be someone willing to open their mind. Would it have steeled my resolve or would I just allow it to happen?

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Scripture of Vanessa II, edited by Vanessa II for accuracy.

Month 7 Day 9 Holy year of the church 427

An old man paces in a room filled with artifacts and antiquities, scrolls with various maps on them dot the walls alongside poetry and other various knowledge needed to get past magical locks. The walls, where not covered in such papers and papyrus, have bookshelves placed in no particular pattern against the walls of the windowless room. A sword hangs above a fireplace in the farthest end, the embers coming to life after a long rest, hidden in the ashes of the enchanted hearth for decades. Anyone could tell the embers were there before this easily, all one would have to do is extend hands to feel the searing, life-giving warmth. A Kobold sits in the chair in front of the fire.

“So, Napoleon, It seems your heir could not do it, why do you think that is?” The short lizard spouts from the comfortable chair, normally far out-classing a member of her species, in Napoleon’s office however, it was encouraged. The Kobold had an air, not unlike Vansen, but something about those draconic eyes made anyone looking, find something they could find assurance in.

“I doubt he could have done it either way, he’s a sweet kid. Considering the object missing from my study, I have an idea why he backed off so quickly.” The elder laughs, holding up a box of four runestones, with a hole where a fifth should be. “These are for activating the healing abilities of someone who trusts you, to be used in the heat of battle when your medic is unconscious or bleeding out.”

A cackling laugh comes from the chair, warm and happy. “A Healing Type, eh? We’ve had many of them before and the scriptures were written the same.” She sips from a tankard, a strong smell of tea coming from it, steaming heavily, the water was boiling as the Kobold tipped the scalding metal in her hand without any problem. Drinking the magma-hot tea without getting burned she happily rubs her belly. “Ah, then again, from what you have told me of your old world… as well as the rumors I had heard around town. The tides of history may be changing.”

“Please… for one night, let me try to forget about my damnable past.” The old warrior holds up a cup of his favorite imported drink, one of the few luxuries he accepts. A brown liquid, bitter and sweet like ‘hot cocoa,’ one of the only reminders of home that he allowed himself.

The Two Friends share their favorite drinks together, laughing into the night at the good news.

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The Rising of Leere, as written by Devi

Edited by Julius Ozymandias Leere for accuracy.

Speaker Vansen stood in Leere’s dining room, cold meat scraps on every table. The Priest turns his nose up at them, knocking a pair of plates with cold meat pies against the velvet curtains and ornate windows. The plates cracking a panel in one, causing a loud shattering noise to reverberate through the empty dining hall.

“That ungrateful piece of TRASH! It was my prayers that summoned him to this world and he DARES to laugh at me?!” He slams his arm down on a table, making it buckle slightly, the wood too cheap to hold up much resistance.

“Calm yourself, Speaker, scripture shows that the previous paladins could be combative as well, they all did their duty.” Leere steps forward from behind a painting, the reality of the wall waving like a pond disturbed by a pebble, the illusion providing virtually cost-free decoration and hidden passageways. “And as your predecessor pulled his Paladin into place after the threat was dealt with, so will you.”

Leere offers Vansen a drink of the finest wine in his cellar, to which the priest raises up his hand. “No friend, I don’t drink, I’ll take some carrot juice instead,” as the priest responds Leere nods quickly to a servant, sending them off. His friend, ever the enigma, had always abstained from anything perception-altering, much to his own chagrin.

“Always afraid someone will get a leg up on you huh? You’ve always been that way since boarding school.” He gleefully drinks his wine in front of Vansen, happy to show off his own sophistication in response to such a boorish reason, as the servant returns with a goblet of vegetable juice.

Vansen picks the goblet up, taking a deep gulp, the healing magic having previously pulled many nutrients out of his body left him famished. “Can you blame me?! I lost an arm Leere, an ARM! And that was me at my sharpest, I was sure we would be the safest in the summoning chamber, so putting the prison under it seemed like common sense, separate the criminal element. But no, that sorry excuse for a Paladin couldn’t even slay one single degenerate, starved for half a month.” Speaker Vansen spits in disgust, a cold wet spot appearing on the rug right after, falling directly on the Martyr’s cross woven into the design.

“All of these laws that keep us bound. It is only thanks to your intervention that we have begun to relax them.” Leere sits down in his throne-like chair, sipping his wine, legs up on an armrest as he lies down lazily in the ornate chair. “With you convincing my colleagues, soon, very soon, we will be able to reclaim our property, and once we do, no more demon lords.”

The candelabras on the walls start to go out one by one as the two school-hood brothers in arms share a toast to the future.

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Personal Diary of fmr Commander Terrance Farmsly

Weekend.

I went around the neighborhood, seeking others, mostly families, trying to figure out what happened before the arm of sleep began wrapping around me. The hunger had not abated but I could feel the warm embrace of a rest that had no wild dreams. The feeling that tomorrow might be alright… that there’s a change in the air.

As I tucked my children into bed, I kiss both of their foreheads. “Now, say your prayers to the Holy Paladins and go to bed.” Both of my excited, rambunctious children, so hard to tuck into bed normally, eagerly curling up together for warmth. Another joyous change.

As I knelt over my bed, I saw my sweet Priscilla, a smile crossing my face. I would do anything for that woman, and she would do anything for me. It was hard in the lower city a lot of the time, being ex-military, Priscilla never minded all that.

“I pray for the return of the holy days, and the army of the five people. I pray for the safety and wisdom of the paladin, may he see through the false scripture. I pray for the wisdom of the people, may they see the error in the ways of the walled city.”

Before going to bed, I remember one last thing. Not praying to a deity, or anything in particular anymore, merely praying to anyone who will hear it, “and keep safe our Demon Lord, for she is our best hope.”