Spiritual matters are complex. Questions about life and what lies above or beyond it are as old as the concept of questions itself. And even with the strange trappings the System saw fit to paste onto the process, having a hand in shaping the very stuff of the Divine could only serve to further complicate those questions.

Shin experienced that first hand. But no matter how byzantine the Great Mysteries of Life became, he knew that he must needs seek out their answers all the same. And he knew precisely where to start.

“So the fish keep the plants healthy, and the plants give the fish shelter?”

“That’s right!” Dyu pulled up another handful of weeds, stuffing them into his compost basket. “Everyone works together, right?”

“That is so great and I love it .” Shin added his bunch of weeds to the farmer’s bushel, taking a moment to stretch out his back. Yesterday, he and Dyu had been fighting for their lives alongside all the other kobolds. And here they were today, wading peacefully through the waters of their own village’s rice paddies to nurture the food that would feed their growing family.

Did Shin say that the questions of life were increasingly complicated? Because sometimes they really, really weren’t.

Shin extended his arms above his head, enjoying the warmth of the slowly setting sun as it cascaded down on his bare torso. “Are you headed home soon, Dyu?”

The farmer nodded, his large ears waggling as he beamed at Shin. “Yes, I got done so much faster thanks to you!”

“Oh stop,” Shin waved his hand in good-natured dismissal. “I absolutely slowed you down. WIthout my endless questions, and you needing to show me the ropes? I’m certain you’d have been able to bury the whole village in rice.”

Dyu puffed up at Shin’s praise, seeming as if he might explode from sheer pride as he stammered out a reply. “Y-you’re far too kind…”

“Nonsense!” Shin plopped down on dry land, giving his feet a good shake before beginning to roll the legs of his breeches back down. “So when should I come by tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Dyu tilted his head. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I mean, when should I come to help out tomorrow? Sunrise? Earlier?”

The farmer’s ears shot up at that, his tail going ramrod straight as he quickly waved his hands. “Oh no! No, no, I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! How could I ask you to do that?”

Shin did his best to keep his expression pleasant and breezy as he shrugged his robe back on. Not this again. “I really don’t mind. You’d be doing me a favor. Really!”

Dyu’s ears flattened as he resolutely shook his head. “You have much more important things to do than wade around in the muck for me all day!”

This time, Shin couldn’t hold back his sigh. “I really don’t.”

But there was clearly no way around the matter. Dyu’s heart was set. “Don’t worry about me, Shin. I’ll do my part; I’m gonna work twice as hard now!”

This was not the first time Shin had heard this same refrain. During his post god-crafting tour of the new-and-familiar Shinki Itten Village, the kobold had made extended visits to the carpenter, two farms and the little family that tended the village’s large flock of silky-feathered chickens. And each visit followed the same pattern: pleasant greetings at his arrival, sincere helpfulness at his questions, deep admiration when he offered to help, and then shocked, almost shamed refusal when he suggested he might come back to help on a more regular basis.

There were over fifty kobolds living in the village now. And Shin was apparently the only one who didn’t have a damn job.

Shin indulged in another sigh as he stared down at the water, attempting to salve his bruised pride as he watched the fish dart around in a riot of orange, white and black. Ooo, and a little blue, too? Okay, well, Shin knew he was essentially a layabout and absolutely not carrying his share of the village weight, but at least he could get all of his fish questions answered right away. “Why are they so many different colors?”

Dyu scratched his head, considering that. “Um, I don’t know!”

Rats. Oh well, next question. “Can you tell which ones are male and which ones are female?” The farmer nodded. “Can I have some?”

One careful walk later, and Shin had gently transplanted his pair of colorful fish into one of the small ponds framing either side of the watchtower. There, he had a hobby. He was going to breed fish, and thereby figure out how their colors worked. He crouched down, watching the aquatic marvels explore their new home as his imagination raced. Maybe he could even cultivate new and wilder patterns of color! He’d need to make charts, and take careful notes, so just as soon as these two hurried up and…

Shin abruptly realized that he was nearly face-down in a pond, silently yet intensely urging a pair of fish to screw. Okay, it was time to call it for today. Maybe tomorrow he could come back and find, if not new fish, a shred of his lost dignity in that pool. At least no one had seen him debasing himself.

“What are you doing?”

Right. Great. Of course. Shin didn’t even bother to stand up, simply staring into his own reflection in an endless feedback loop of shame. “I’m pondering.”

“Pondering what?”

“The fish.”

“Really?”

Shin simply opened his mouth and hoped this villager would eventually realize he was a silly man, and that unlike him they had an actual function to fulfill. “Yes. They’re enjoying themselves.”

The sound of light scratching reached Shin’s ears. “Really? But you’re not a fish, so how could you know?”

Whatever. “And you aren’t me, so how could you know what I know?”

In Shin’s estimation, the proper response to that particular bon mot would have been an annoyed scoff. Or perhaps the listener shoving him into the pond. Instead, his observer gasped in impressed understanding and the scratching sounds quickened. Suddenly irritated, Shin pushed himself back up to his feet and turned around to frown at the peppy little kobold who was busily taking down notation in an oversized tome. “What are you doing?”

“Recording your insights!” the little kobold replied, his tail wagging with excitement. “Such a thoughtful meditation on the Self! On empathy, on otherness!”

“Uh-huh.” Shin grumpily fiddled with the belt of his robe. “Why are you doing that, though.”

“Oh, it’s my job! Hello~!” The chipper kobold waggled a hand, eagerly drying the ink used to eternalize Shin’s banalities. “I’m Mimasu, but please call me Mimi! I’m a Scribe, and while it’s my duty to assist you in your day-to-day needs, it is my honor to document your wisdom for the benefit of future generations!”

Okay fantastic. So not only did Shin not have a job, he also had someone to assist him in not doing a job. That’s swell.

Apparently satisfied that the ink had dried, Mimi clapped his book shut. “I had wanted to say, sir, that your guest is making a bit of a fuss. Should I tell him to keep waiting?”

Guest? What was…oh. Oh, right. In his eagerness to collect eggs and pull weeds and ask fish questions, Shin had entirely forgotten about their guest. Well, now was a good a time as any to deal with that. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

Mimi gave a cheerful little bow and turned on his heels, leading Shin into the watchtower itself. The first floor seemed to be a common area, a place for communal gatherings and general use. The next three floors were used for storage, increasingly well-stocked by the village’s productive farms. But the entire fourth floor, it seemed, was for the use of just one kobold: Shin himself.

Goddess, this was too much. All this space, just for one kobold? At least it was decorated in a rather spartan style; Shin had half expected full-sized portraits of himself or something. Instead there was a central low-set table and some cushions for sitting, some sort of office space tucked into one corner and a larger cushion for a bed set at the opposite end of the room. The only decorations were a few pots holding plom blossoms and a little artificial pond in the back. All in all, he had to admit that his living quarters were on the tasteful side of austere.

He still didn’t know if he wanted them. Even without considering the tied-up elf pitching a fit in the middle of the room.

“—DEMAND that someone FINALLY set me FUCKING FREE and bwah!!” Ceril squawked as his rant was interrupted by a firm smack to the back of his head. He glared sullenly at Shin as the kobold casually sat down beside him. “More abuse, is it? I’m not surprised. Torture me all you want, I’ll never—”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Shin interrupted the yammering elf, nodding towards the untouched bowl of rice and pork belly sitting placed before him on the table. “Or do Oaken Elves only eat bark or something?”

Ceril glowered. “I’m tied up. You know I’m tied up. You’re the one who tied me up.”

“Mm. Well, your food’s cold now.” Shin slid the bowl towards himself, picking up the pair of sticks that had been left out for utensils. “Mimi?”

The scribe popped up at Shin’s shoulder. “Yes sir?”

“Bring our guest some more food. Check to see if we have any bark.”

“Yes sir!”

Shin clacked his chopsticks together, then sampled a mouthful of the rice and pork. Cold, but still delicious. “You’re missing out, Ceril. Maybe it’s time to put the bark to rest.”

“I don’t eat bark,” the elf snarled, “And it’s Lord Ceril.”

“Oh really?” Shin considered that, slowly chewing another mouthful. “I guess I’m Lord Shin, then.”

Ceril pursed his lips, then leaned forward. “Well fine if you must know, I’m actually PRINCE Ceril, Twelfth Son of King Glandem."

Shin cocked an eyebrow. “Okay. I’m Double King Shin. How long do you want to play this game? It’s fun; I think I’m good at it.”

“Except I really am a Prince.” Ceril drew himself up, attempting to look as regal as one can possibly look while tied up. Which, it turns out, was not very. “What do you think my father the king will do when it’s time for your punishment?!”

“Oh right, because that’s something that’s going to happen.” Shin politely waited until he’d finished his next bite before continuing on. “Because his twelfth son was so important that he was shoved out to the ass-end of the kingdom.” Chew, chew. “Where he was the weakest within a band of weaklings.” Chew, chew. “Weaklings who were decimated by us.” Chew, chew. “By former mongrels.”

Chew, chew.

Ceril didn’t seem interested in talking much after that, so Shin enjoyed the rest of his own dinner in peace. Before too long, Mimi reemerged with a steaming hot new bowl of food. “Terribly sorry, but we’re fresh out of bark. Should I throw this away?”

“Oh, let’s just leave it here and see if Prince Ceril doesn’t feel up to broadening his pallet a smidge.” Shin scooted over, the elf reflexively flinching away. One quick tug on the knots that bound him, however, and the ropes fell away. Ceril gasped in spite of himself, rubbing at his sore arms as Shin smiled. “There. Better?”

The elf managed a sniff in response. “Hardly. I’m still…” He trailed off, his display of princely arrogance inadvertently filling his nostrils with the heavenly scent of roast pork. An astonishingly deep grumble echoed out from the elven royal’s belly, the prince flushing in embarrassed irritation. “No. I’m not better. So there.”

“Then eat already.” Shin extended a fresh pair of eating sticks. “If you can’t feel better, you might as well feel full.”

Mimasu immediately began writing that down as Ceril eyed the proffered utensils in distrust. Then his stomach epically growled again, and he snatched them up without another thought.

The elf’s eyes crossed as he attempted to bend the chopsticks to his will, tongue sticking out in concentration as he shakily did his best to shovel food from the bowl to his mouth. His continued failure caused him to at first redouble his efforts, but after a solid three minutes of slopping food all over Shin’s nice table he eventually resorted to simply shoving the bowl directly up to his mouth.

Shin held himself to a slight smile at the sight of the haughty elf gobbling rice like a pig at a trough. “Very civilized, Prince Ceril.”

Ceril glared from around his bowl, but was unwilling to use his mouth for anything besides devouring pork at the moment. When the bowl was emptied, he wiped his face off on his sleeve and aimed for a proud bearing. “Don’t lecture me about civilized, you—” He trailed off, squinting his eyes at Shin. A moment later, he huffed. “Well. Fine, whatever. I guess you aren’t a Monster anymore.”

“Kind of you to notice.”

“Well since you’re slightly less of a beast now, are you finally letting me go?”

“What? No.” Shin rapped his fingers thoughtfully across the table. “We’re not particularly interested in a war right now. So you can either stay here as our guest, or I can bury you out by the pig farm. Two options, both good.”

Ceril raised his eyebrows, somehow looking genuinely surprised. “Really? But…I told you I’m a Prince.”

“Even more reason not to let you go, then.”

“I knew it; you are still beasts.” Ceril scowled as he raised his empty bowl, taking a second to lick out any lingering juices. Then, a thought struck. “What if I promise not to tell them about all your murders and my kidnapping?”

Shin made a show of considering it. “You know, that does sound pretty good? Only, there’s this new thing I’ve heard about called ‘Lying’, and I’m a little worried you might be using it.”

Ceril made a complicated gesture in front of his chest. “I swear by the Seven Oaks and the Ninety Branches and the Ten Thousand-—”

“Yyyeah, about all that.” Shin shrugged airily. “The fact that you have some complicated phrase to prove that you’re really super duper not lying does not lessen my suspicion that you might be a liar. So sorry.”

“Well screw you then,” Ceril huffed, dropping his bowl with a clatter. “Civilized, humph! You’re not even close to the MAJESTY of the Oaken Elves!” Ceril sniffed again. “I mean, a Level One Tribe? Please. Your little arrangement of huts isn’t even a Sanctuary!”

Shin’s ears perked up. “Oh? What’s a Sanctuary?”

“You really don’t know? Pssh, of course you don’t. The cities of real Sides are all Sanctuaries. Of course Quercus, my ancestral home, is one as well. Players can’t indiscriminately attack the citizens of a Sanctuary. Here though?” Ceril’s eyes flashed. “They could do anything they wanted here. It will happen.”

Shin frowned without realizing it, his mind drifting back to Leathers and his promise to return. They should still have time before then though, right? Time enough to find out more about becoming a Sanctuary, maybe. It seemed as if Ceril was already proving his usefulness as a guest, unwilling as that use might be.

“I’m sure it will happen, some day.” Shin carefully plucked a grain of rice off of the table, smearing it between his thumb and middle finger. “But I’ll worry about today’s rains before worrying about tomorrow’s thunder.”

Mimi had begun writing that down when the girl appeared at the table beside Shin and Prince Ceril. She looked like a kobold, smelled like a kobold, and very much was not a kobold.

“Omigod!” the Player squealed, “This is so cool~!”