Weston was a Diplomat -

In so many ways, the position suited him. He was an arbiter, executor -

He had power - power in all senses of the word, of course, and the question was what to do with it? The decisions that would define the future - his decision had been effective, to keep his family busy - focused on the Covanger Fields Font -

They all needed some sort of distraction, a way to contribute - a way to feel relevant. To showcase their talents and to feel powerful.

Pierson wasn't getting it, "Why worry about unlocking a power if the Chapel does it for us, doesn't it just make sense to use it-"

"No." Weston said, shaking his head - "I don't think it's a real power, the Throne is...it's an easy way to do it, and why I think Jared was so weak. It only feels powerful because - well, attack me."

Pierson's eyes widened -

"It's the only way you'll see." Weston said, "I'll be fine."

Pierson raised his hand and lightening sparked across his fingers, he slapped -

The lightening was slow, chaotic - and it missed Weston completely, it didn't behave like true electricity - it wasn't as fast, nor did it leave Pierson's hand completely, it was like a flail, or writhing snake that sizzled and spit -

"I'm still getting use to it." Pierson said, as Weston got up and moved closer - this time the lightening slapped around Weston, as soon as it touched him it wrapped, netting him in crackling energy.

His fire awoke, but it required no thought, no exertion. It was like being punched by a toddler.

"Can you make it stronger?" Weston asked blandly, and Pierson's eye's widened - the lightening collapsed back into him.

"That was strong!" Pierson said, "It tears a shadow apart in seconds."

Weston nodded - "The problem is that everybody uses the same emotion to use this power, this way to awaken it."

Pierson waited, not seeing the problem.

"It's like trying to run in somebody else's shoes, sure - maybe they fit, maybe they're better than nothing, but when you awaken a power naturally? Its custom made - for you. This power is a shortcut, its training wheels."

"But if what you say is correct, if I can continue to upgrade it, can't it just keep getting stronger?"

"It's likely." Weston agreed, "But I don't think that's an advantage, it's like steroids. It's like getting a bigger and bigger sword, sure it could do some damage - but you still need to master how to use it, and a sword isn't. fit for everybody."

"But how do we, you mean you want the family -"

Weston nodded, "At least some, especially you. You need to be the strongest. We've been wasting an opportunity, guns were the obviously wrong answer in hindsight, and it's better to do it now, before we run out of ammunition and it's forced."

"We won't for years! Maybe - decades - I'm sorry, Uncle." Pierson's head dipped, perhaps -

"No." Weston said, "You may challenge me, in here, privately. You're right to question my decisions and present alternates, as long as you implement the measures I've made with diligence, you do not try to subvert them."

Pierson looked up thoughtfully - nodding, "I'll do so more respectfully in the future, I've - still, I've overstepped, I apologize."

Weston nodded, he was being patient with Pierson, trying to - but, "Your getting perceptive, you're developing, that's good."

"I think it's - your blood. Uh, power thing." Pierson said, "I can feel it, I guess, when you're..."

Weston nodded - disappointed in himself, a Blood Power - that enabled his family to sense his moods if he didn't reign them in. It was certainly not optimal. How it worked, well, Weston was still studying it, more questions and less time.

"We need more people to awaken their power naturally for we understand how it's done, the Chapel is a resource but isn't necessary. What I believe is happening is that it's like a muscle, you have to exercise it. For whatever reason, using a firearm, or maybe it's just being safe that is stopping the martial powers from consolidating."

Pierson nodded - "Have you considered the, uh, proposal?"

"Yes." Weston said, shaking his head - "If anybody wants to be beaten up, to volunteer themselves for it then I'm not going to stop them. But it's not going to help win loyal friends if we beat them before offering a job..."

Some people were stupid -

Pierson shrugged.

"So -"

The door opened.

"Weston." Gage said, "There's a new development at the school."

Weston nodded -

Everybody had a hobby, Chase included. Baseball - it was fun, it was challenging, he was good -

Not pro-good, not college good - He was stocky, thick, could knock a ball out of the park when he got a hold of it. But he had short legs, too, just not the speed you needed, he wasn't fast enough.

A hell of Second Baseman -

It was a respectful position, solid, a good second baseman was always in the game, had to keep his eye on the ball, the stealing runners, had to balance a lot of moving pieces, had to have a sense of what was going on -

It's what he liked about it, liked sports. Which was what made his other hobby seem a bit - well, people didn't realize how similar the two were. That knocking one back and knocking one out of the park could be just as satisfying, that so much work went into it before you even got up to the plate.

That his family didn't like him enjoying that hobby, that it was, well, what family wanted to contribute to their kids drinking? He got it, he was a role model, an older brother, he was sure to keep his sisters safe and -

And he liked to drink like he liked to get up to the plate, to hit a home run - to hear the cheers, the whoops, the joy! Feel that rushing exultation and satisfaction, of knowing everything that went into it...

A lot goes into it -

That's what made it so satisfying, or else it was just the batting cages, it was the whole sport - he'd taken to distilling easily, it was - well it was nerdy, wasn't it? It was hard, all that measuring, that cooking, temperatures and flavors and compounds and - he enjoyed it.

His family, they were poor, they did it as a bit of side income, just a single still and just with what they pulled from their own garden, their own trees. It started as a bit of wine, and Chase had never liked that part - the wine. He didn't like wine, it was fruity - he didn't realize that Brandy was Wine then - that all those things were connected, the same.

He had always helped with the simple parts back then, squeezing the fruit juice, cleaning the pots, sanitizing the bottles - really it was more of a chore, but he'd picked up a few things, his parents had always told him not to talk about it growing up, it was just a bit of wine - for their own use...

Moonshine.

Yes, that coveted alcohol made in barns and shops and sheds, his parents were running a small moonshine operation and he was cheap labor, unknowing. That his sisters and him were part of an illegal operation - his family were good, honest Christian folk - church every Sunday -

They were also poor - Dad hurt his back pretty bad young, and they did get a bit of money for it, Mom didn't finish high school, that she was throwing Chase's diapers in the trash when her friends were throwing their graduation caps into the air -

They were happy -

Poor doesn't mean sad, it meant they had a garden, they had one vehicle in case it rained but it was usually home, Dad's motorcycle was what was used to get to work, and who really needed more then that?

Harvest season came, they had a nice trailer, a double wide they'd always rented on a decent sized lot and they had a garden, a ready orchard, chickens, the basics and Dad went to work when he could find something that was right - he'd been tending cows for one of Weston's farms when everything happened, most people worked for Weston, the Covangers - if they worked.

That after it happened, Da still worked and they were - well, even without Chase they were a lot better off. No rent, plenty of food, that people were trading wedding rings, trucks - for a clutch of chickens, now - and they had plenty -

Chicken shit made the best fertilizer...they were selling fruit seeds for more money then Dad made working, that he continued to work and enjoyed it showed that life was good.

They had the only still, the only liquor still - the only wine making business, even if it was small...around?

It wasn't that big a deal, not yet - what Chase felt was a big deal was that it wasn't a skill in the store, that if you didn't know how to do it? Now there was skills that helped with it -

Cooking, Pickling, Gardening, Arborist - they all helped but not enough, so much went into it, that instead Chase had just spent time reading over what was there at the skill shop - getting more information, a feel of what he needed -

A lot of math -

That's the other reason he'd wanted the school, though it felt silly for him to want to go to school, he wasn't a nerd, but it was really just about what he was going to have to do. Sure he could find recipes, he could get instructions, but to actually understand what he was up against, to really get a feel for the hobby?

He was gonna have to go to school - they were gonna make fun of him...

Hickory of course put the school house where the other school was, so it had that surreal feel - walking through a place he use to know, the grass overgrown and dry, cobwebs on windows - then the Font.

The cafeteria, perched on top with armed guards, defenders...

Then the soccer field, the new school - it was a decent sized building, desks, chairs, books on them - an exercise room, and a quieter room that blocked sound being used for an eating/break room, where you could go and talk and not bother the other students who were studying. Not everybody went at first - his sisters. There were only thirty desks.

That was alright, you didn't need to be at school all day. You went and learned until you were tired of it and left - or took a break. Some people took a break and talked, but - well Chase needed to keep his blood pumping, learning could be boring -

Especially use to fighting, having fun, sitting in a desk?

It was just wood floors, he could have exercised outside, but the grass was overgrown. He'd started to just go in and do a few push-ups, jumping jacks, just to get his blood pumping in between taking the tests -

You studied the math, you took a test. You studied a bit more, you took a test - the information was like flash cards, it just kept building and building, starting simple and then getting more and more complicated -

It was easy like this - Chase realized that right away, to be solely focused, just to read the information and have it presented in this manner. Having it repeated, reinforced - it was like playing baseball, really - practice, practice, practice -

There wasn't anything useless - you only had to work on what you wanted. For him that meant math - he'd made the mistake of doing just one of the reading ones, just to see how difficult it was and that somehow had unlocked word problems - then he had to do math and reading in the tests - but it made a sort of sense, to practice them both at the same time? That way...

Just twenty or so minutes, and then do as many push-ups as he could. Hunter always wrote everything down, kept track of everything he bought. It had been annoying, but only because Chase didn't care that much about money, didn't put that much thought into it -

Sports? His hobby? His stats - Baseball was really all about stats. That it would have felt wrong for him not to write down how many push-ups, sit-ups he was doing. Just a habit, he wasn't even trying to do -

He'd unlocked his power, he knew that. He didn't tell the guys, partly cause it was less useful than Hunters, partly cause it had to do with the cooking - the making of the mash, the wine. He couldn't do the difficult stuff, yet - the hard stuff. Not all on his own -

Of course he'd probably have to own up to it now, because he was the only one that used the gym room, and you just couldn't have a secret in this town, that as Chase finished his exercise, wrote down his numbers, improved - it became a Gym, Hickory had shown up minutes later.

More then that -

There was still space for his push-ups, his setups, but there was a treadmill. And there were two strange padded areas - and a mirror. Still no baseball stadium -

Chase had no idea how strong Hickory was, guess he still didn't - nobody could see your numbers in the mirror but you, and did he really want to ask? Want to know - he use to be able to beat Hickory up with one hand tied behind his back...fought like a mad cat, and always gave it back, but Chase was big, strong -

He thought -

Hickory had started to run, jumped on the tread mill and took off and it was like the roadrunner, watching his legs kick -

Chase had walked onto the pad, not knowing what to expect - Gravity. Weight -

It was a physical force distributed over his body all at once. Every body part - it was like doing a perfect bench press, a perfect squat - it was slight at first but it began to increase, if he walked, it stopped going up - if he moved, and moving felt like working out his whole body - like walking against a river, a current. He could swing his arms, hold them up - it was a serious work out. Then he could stop and it would get stronger -

The weight went up - then he could try to walk again. There was a point where that was impossible. He couldn't move freely. That was what the numbers seemed to be counting - could you move freely -

Of course it was a bit more complicated then that, what it was actually counting was how much did the Font - your power, make you stronger. That's why it effected the whole body -

He'd realized that when he walked past the mirror and saw the number two - Strength: 2.

Two what? Certainly not pounds, and he wasn't twice as strong as he'd been. That he hadn't been lifting, he'd try and find that his lifts were stronger - which was strange because it wasn't like he was really fighting. It's why he had to start using a gun, because the creatures didn't get close enough - Hunter was a hell of a shot, with his rifle - he took out the ones far away - Gage had a pump shotgun, he blasted them that made it through, Hickory was close - his sawed off shotgun obliterated anything at thirty feet or so and his sword was fast - and Weston was a mean ole' brawler -

Chase mostly guarded the rear, he was a second baseman - that a ball hit had to make it past the pitcher and be low enough for him to snag - he was a back-up. It was a team, that Chase was always in the right spot, always ready - he wasn't really needed.

Nobody said anything, they all shared the spoils - they divided the marbles evenly. Chase was an extra pair of eyes, always have to be on it - always looking for a base thief, to sneak past - keeping the chatter up, the communication - he was good at that.

Good at hitting -

Weston was learning more about the powers, learning that - maybe that was why they hadn't really awakened their power, that Chase and Hunter and Gage didn't really do much fighting. Too far away, that Hickory and Weston kept growing stronger and stronger -

Chase had started writing down his stats, it was normal to do that with baseball, normal to track things - and it had made sense, that everything mattered - Weston had said, that day, the Catcher's Moon, thinking about things, how to do them - that mattered...

He'd unlocked his power. It didn't do anything. Not yet, but it apparently gave him a Two in strength? A three in Agility -

That was the other mat, the pad, he'd walked there next and - it was dodgeball. Only way to say it, balls flew at you slow at first, then faster and faster - only you could see them, so he probably looked stupid up there, certainly - dropping and rolling, popping up. He'd never been Agile -

Not like that -

Of course you had to be Agile, maybe - more than speed, where he just had a one. When you were working the still, if something burned? It was ruined, and without electricity you had to be on it -

Be ready to pull a pot off, turn a burner down, stir, add something, you had to have your ingredients out, you had to be moving, your eyes on everything if you were going to bring it all together, make more then just vinegar -

You could make vinegar with a still -

May had said that was important, mentioned it to him. When he'd asked her about her crafting power, she hadn't laughed at him. Vinegar was going to make it so they could pickle food for the winter, even meat? Pickling was important, and they didn't have enough vinegar, and she was going to make sure he had the priority, for all the equipment he needed when he was ready - he was ready.

If he made the vinegar - not just alcohol.

A two in strength, a one in speed, and a four in Agility. Because he practiced, maybe? Maybe it had to do with his power? That he practiced strength more, and Agility was what went up? Would the others go up, it'd not been a week...

Weston had been ecstatic, walking into the room, he was important now, more important. So was Gage - what was going on there, it was - Not Chase's business -

Gage was like a - a boss or something, not when it was just them. All those hats came off when it was just them, fighting or hanging out, they were all equal, best good buddies - Hickory always said the shit straight, laid it clear - Best Good Buddies -

It was the next day, when Chase's agility went back down to three, that he realized he'd been wrong, it'd just been luck - that it had nothing to do with his training. Nothing to do with his practice crafting, it'd been fast, he shouldn't expect improvement that fast? Not when there wasn't much fighting to do?

Then none of his numbers made sense, they were acting funny, going up one day, down -

Making alcohol, it was an enjoyable hobby, it could get you drunk. Making vinegar - it was...useful. It would make sure they stayed fed, made sure that food from the seed machine didn't get wasted when it was harvested -

But making potions? Potions that improved your Strength? Or your Speed? Or your Agility?

Maybe his power wasn't so stupid, so useless - after all, maybe there was something to that...

It was just one point...right now...

A lot of school, he realized that. He realized he was going to have to learn from May, as well, that she thought it was similar to the piano, that things had more to them. Even Chase could tell she'd been upset over those fish scales, that he wasn't gonna say a word to Hickory cause it was too damn funny?

That was best good buddies for you. Of course everybody knew, Weston knew - that May had been Hickory's mermaid, none of them were that stupid, that Hickory howled because nobody admitted to believing him and he still wouldn't say it was May...

They wouldn't run out of drinks for the Bar, for good times, to cheer and laugh, and to toast to Hickory's catfish - his true love, the one that got away...

That hopefully that would be enough to get them through the harder times to come, the winter - if they made it that far, the people in town had tripled, more each day, mostly strangers, no relations - Hickory found them on the river, following it - camping, or they just showed up walking, or they picked them up out hunting - Weston sent most of them to Covanger Fields, he was good like that.

Alcohol was a potion for heart ache, for hurt, no magic needed and he could sell it just fine, he knew - but this was a world that demanded more now. Drinking was good, but they were going to need to be stronger, smarter - they were going to need to be ready -

To fight. They all knew that. That they were lucky - that the monsters weren't even animals, just gross shadows, burps of evil that'd make his hands ring when they made contact with his bat - they didn't feel real.

Could alcohol heal? Could it be medicine? Could he do that, could he be a doctor? Like Hunter had joked - not knowing what Chase had been working on, who the hell knew anything? Chase would have to figure it out, he'd have to try different things, different ways to make it all work - the fish scales, the lumber, the plants that would grow, even the cloth, he'd try it all - he'd figure out what could do what, if he was onto anything or just a brewer.

What this power was, what it meant - what these numbers meant. Stats - some of the people in school called 'em. Chase understood stats, from baseball, but these were different, they said - these were from video games. From role playing games -

That was where you pretended to not be a nerd in a different world - a world with potions. And magic. And -

Chase was starting to hang out with those guys, those nerds - buying them beers. Hadn't been his sort of scene before, just being honest, they were just people, decent folk and not a thing wrong with them.

Just different.

Chase bought em beers, talked to them in the school break room a bit, introduced a few to Weston and now they worked for him, were paid to keep going to school, just to help figure the stuff out - smart people.

Weston had asked Chase to 'beat the shit' out of anyone that made fun of them, that they were possibly as important as Hickory, possibly more. Because of those stats, the powers, that they actually had known a lot of what was going on - that they had been shy about it.

Jared had gone for a Min-Max build - a Religious Victory.

Computers didn't work anymore, they couldn't see what these guys were talking about, the video games. Some of them had books -

Not the Bible.

Should they tell people not to drink? That something more was going on, what would you tell them? No, don't get a power, don't get skills, don't build things - don't be a part of society.

Was there anybody left who hadn't drank around here? Other places, sure, but - here?

It could be aliens. It could be advanced technology. It could be God - it could be magic. Those smart guys, they said it was the same. There was no difference, when you got down to it, that anything sufficiently advanced would appear to be magic -

Chase was getting smarter, he knew that, he could feel that. Not just educated. He'd started to write down how many tests he did, how long he could stay focused before getting up to go work out, to chat, to stretch or get something to eat.

Chase started writing down how many math problems he did each day, just tally marks, just to keep track.

Baseball - stats were important. Knowledge was important, you had to know where every person hit, their habits, their speed, make split second decisions rather to stop a steal on second or throw to home for the out, to split the bases, there were so many factors going on at once -

Gut decisions -

That were only possible if you had the knowledge, the preparation to make them, and he'd never claim to be smart, it was a different sort of smart, a different sort of mind, that did such things -

Not a mind for books, for over-thinking things. He stayed away from the reading subjects, he was getting better, sure, because he started it, but a Man could only learn so much - he was after a different smart. He was a blunt man, he used a bat - not a book.

He didn't want it to change who he was, he wasn't a nerd. But some of them smart kids - they were cool. Maybe they'd be down to play catch, maybe - maybe make up a team, softball - so Julie-Lynn could play, Amy. All them, maybe get a diamond built, even if it ain't a magic one.

If Weston had turned out to be cool - that fucking prick, then - certainly smart people could be cool, too? They could all learn from each other, try new things, potions, stats, sports, spirits -

How long before he unlocked the rest of the stats? A building that would show you how smart you were? So that he could verify that some of his potions, his elixirs, his drinks made you smarter?

Fish scales - fish were brain food, so it made sense, just fish scales boiled with the mash and that'd been enough to make him smarter - not by much, maybe a point like everything else -

Eggshells did strength.

It didn't have to be alcohol. Didn't have to be fruit, could be anything. Alcohol just seemed to work the best, the longer something took - like it brought it out. Alcohol, that process was just the best way to see what something could do, what property it had, how to measure it. A baseline, a way to record it. Fermenting it -

It was all that time, all that effort, that's why May's crafts worked as they did, because of all those tiny stitches, all those steps - she said it was about layers, bringing it all together, it was complexity - art -

Chase had it easier. Simpler. To him it wasn't an art just measure. Test. Record results - and practice. It wasn't an art, it was a science - Chase could make the same thing twice, May never had the same result twice - she could. If she wanted, but then it wouldn't be unique, it wouldn't make it as special - it was good to be unpredictable.

Poor Hickory -

It wasn't intelligence. It was Memory. Memory was the stat unlocked from the books, from recording it. There was also Will, and Reservoir which was like fuel. Those were the three Chase unlocked from writing down his stats, the 'Mental Gym' it wasn't a social room, was it? Not for lunches, not anymore -

Gave him a headache - He had a two for Memory, a three for Will, and Reservoir just a one. Those were his stats -

Of course he could of stopped there, but, stats were for something. You didn't just write them down for the fuck of it, you did it to track progress, to improve, to get better - at a sport.

It was obvious, really, when you thought about it - what he should do next at the school house.

People didn't share their stats, not really, most people had zeros, Chase reckoned - or maybe they were just joking - 'Lemmie guess, all zeros'

They said that to each other - sometime, a joke. He wasn't one to brag. He had ones - that the stats only told you who was likely to win. Who would arm wrestle him? Who would race him? Who would take tests with him, see who did better?

The next room had space for all that, the School had grown far bigger, physical gym on one side, mental gym on the other, books up front, and the middle - in the center of it all a place to truly test what you were learning.

A pool of water, waist high - not a fountain. The Competition Room. the Battle Arena?the Sparring Center? The Dueling Quarters - Room of Requirement?

Those cool dudes had names for everything, seemed to have an idea of how to use it, what to work on - didn't mind sharing that. Didn't mind kicking his ass even if they didn't have stats. In that pool of water.

He was too blunt. Too explosive - wasted all his Fuel too soon, there was apparently a huge strategy to it, Meta - how he was so good one day? Twice as strong? Lasted twice as long, then three times?

Are you drinking at school?

Agility went up permanently first - no drink needed. Maybe Weston had been right, maybe it had to do with how you killed the monsters. Maybe it had to do with how he was practicing. Maybe it had to do with what his power was, that he needed Agility to pull the boiled mixtures - at exactly the right temperature, the right timing, that the egg shells brought a blueness to the water - then he had to strain it, still hot, over acorns - which actually turned it purple. Then he dropped a marble in it and let it cool -

Maybe it wouldn't make him bulletproof, not for more then say - small arms, nothing a .22 caliber wouldn't pierce, maybe it wouldn't last longer then ten minutes, maybe it tasted like shit - he wasn't going to shoot himself to test it, this was only the 18th batch. This one used 8 acorns and 4 eggs worth of shells, brown eggs - May said the light might matter, moonlight - sunlight, or maybe the day, the seasons, but she said it was always consistent - that once you understood a rule, it stayed, but that variations made it hard -

Clouds.

How big were the chicken eggs? Do it by weight instead, grind them up and measure them - do all the work inside, don't worry about light - results. A consistent, smaller, reproducible result was better. It was better to get a base hit every time - then one home run per season, if every player got a base hit?

You win -

Stats - Points - Magic.

Competition. Sports.

Drinking -

What came next? What was Hunter up to? Figuring out in his forest, what was he really building? A mansion? A monopoly? A fortune? Hopefully a titty bar soon - Julie-lynn was great, but Chase wasn't getting married, he was 17!

Where would you put a marble on a stripper? That was something to think about right there, that was proof that this was all God's work, that he was looking out for his buddies down below -