Eric waved back at the young adventurers, his spirit elevated by the goodwill he had been shown, a far cry from his experiences earlier that day. At least as far as his own ridiculously manipulative clan was concerned.

Most especially his mother, and her fucking lawyers, who he felt the sudden desperate need to avoid at all costs, for at least a year and a day.

As if he were a serf escaping his master in a free chartered city of Renaissance Europe… or a prince escaping the curse and burden of faerie… and how fucking odd was it that his own Interface pinged his cousin as being Sylvan… and not human at all?

If he were really brave, he’d look in the mirror and have his Interface ping his own image.

He winced. Realizing that, inhuman Willpower aside, he actually wasn’t that brave.

And somehow he was pretty certain that the more he thought of himself as a regular human constrained by the rules, traditions, and taboos of humanity as a whole, the better. And as for traces of odd bloodlines, like the Neanderthall and Denisovan lineages so many people had, who cared? Homo Sapiens were a race that had always gone full Captain Kirk, falling for the exotic beauties, and pretty much humping every other humanoid race in close proximity over countless hundreds of thousands of years. Because genetically speaking, the best way to survive and thrive in new terrain was to have babies with whoever was successfully living there already.

That itself was the human way and always had been, which meant that Eric was 100% human, regardless of how batshit crazy the woman his dad had fallen for happened to be.

He gave a hard satisfied nod with that train of thought as he approached Nelson’s stand, pretending the middle aged man wasn’t giving him an odd look as Eric felt odd tingles shivering down his spine, as if connections of debt and obligation were somehow slipping free of his soul.

“Welcome to Nelson’s Spears. I’m Nelson’s Brother, Robert. Can I interest you in anything today, young sir?”

Eric smiled. “Got anything bardiche-like?”

The man blinked, then slowly turned around, waving at what were no less than thirty already shafted and razor sharp looking spears, some with very narrow angular heads, others more broad-headed leaf-shaped blades, and several lugged war spears possessed long thin triangular cross-sections that looked ideal for plunging into the gaps of steel plate or the thickest beast hide.

But one thing none of them had were cleaving components to the weapons. Not one of the weapons could even be called a glaive, let alone a poleaxe.

They were spears, plain and simple, and no doubt the smith was getting sweet bonuses with his chosen and very narrow weapon focus. Because in this world, it paid to specialize.

Eric winced and bowed his head. “Sorry, maybe that was a bit of a stupid question. I forgot how Professions worked for a minute there.”

Robert smirked. “You’d be surprised how often we get that question. At least you understand that Profession-enhanced creations can’t ‘toe the line’ like most middle-aged blacksmiths, who had no problem making polearms of all sorts. But spears is what my brother can do, and all he does, and he makes some of the finest in all of Freetown. And the ones we sell here are selling for a tiny fraction of what we could sell them for in the city’s heart, as a courtesy to all of you kids risking your lives as you just start out, so at least you have a chance.”

Eric dipped his head. “I’m sure you’re right,” Eric conceded. “I don’t suppose you can point me to a stand selling, well...”

“Bardiches, poleaxes and similar shit?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

The man shook his head, before pointing to a hard-eyed young woman sitting sentinel over a dozen polearms lying on the ground before her. All of them unique in that Eric didn’t see any sign of steel or bronze on any of them.

All of them looked to be made from bones or the chitin harvested from giant insects.

“Wild crafter,” Robert snorted. “She declares them razor sharp and fit for battle, says they could cut any man in half. Ha! Men aren’t what you adventurers are forced to face, but creatures covered in that very same chitin! I don’t know about you, kid, but I wouldn’t trust my life to the brittle shells of any creature, not when honest steel could see me through.”

Eric nodded, already knowing that the girl’s stand would be his next stop, before his eyes widened at what he saw hiding under the far counter of the man’s stand. “Is that a brace of pilum I see?” Eric asked, pointing at the set of iron-shanked javelins.

Robert frowned. “You’re not going to call me an orc lover and tear up my stand, are you?” Then his eyes hardened. “Or are you an orc lover?”

Eric smirked. “No on both accounts. But I’m all about learning how to master different weapons. I think that will help my class selection later on,” he said, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with honesty in this case.

This earned a measuring nod. “I believe you. And since I’d really like them out of my stand, and I think my brother’s an idiot experimenting with this kind of ‘spear...’ I’ll sell you a brace of three for a single silver talon.”

Eric grinned and nodded, thinking a hundred credits, was a fair trade for three. Before frowning for an awkward minute when he realized he couldn’t just chuck them in storage, so was happy to let the smirking Robert to show him how to comfortably secure them to his shoulder sheath without them getting in the way.

“You sure you’re not a Javelineer? Most adventurers find carrying braces of javelins… cumbersum.”

Eric grinned, grateful that 48 strength meant that they truly were light as a feather, and 59 Finesse was so beyond the pale, he’d never feel off balance again. Then why did you fall over… don’t think about it!”

“Nope, not a Javelineer, I just have a knack for weaponry,” Eric quickly said before making an about face for the girl selling chitin-based polearms.

He was surprised by the scowl the too-thin girl gave him, crossing her arms. “I don’t sell to orc-lovers,” she said.

Eric blinked, gazing at the now trembling girl of maybe 19 for long moments before shaking his head. “Seriously? I haven’t seen you make a single sale, I haven’t even seen anyone browse your gear, and you look like you haven’t eaten in two days.”

He winced as he saw her eyes redden. He couldn’t even guess her pain or what she’d been through, and of course had no idea what her story was.

He raised a sympathetic hand. “And I assure you,” he said in a voice both quiet and hard. “I’m no orc lover.”

Something in his eyes, perhaps. She flinched and paled at whatever she saw.

“Primal Hunters also use throwing spears. True to our racial heritage for hundreds of thousands of years. We’ve been hunting with spears and throwing sticks longer than we’ve been human. Maybe longer than we’ve had language. Trust me. Those orc assholes are late to the party when it comes to us throwing kickass spears and javelins.”

The girl flashed an awkward smile. “Yeah, sorry. I… fuck, I’m really not in any place to say anything, am I? See anything you like?” she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes that was almost a desperate plee.

Eric frowned, now taking a serious look at her inventory. He could see why she wasn’t getting much business. The weapon shafts weren’t at all treated. Most were fresh cut and all of them had some spring. Ironically, that was probably the medieval norm, with most smiths and warriors cutting fresh springy shafts for their weapons whenever the haft broke. But, ironically, in this day and age where polearms were making a comeback, people wanted a pretty varnished shaft to go with what actually mattered, a high quality weapon head. Which meant that few people were giving this girl’s wares more than a glance or two before moving on.

To be fair, the chittin heads were wickedly sharp, and the girl, or whoever had crafted them, definitely had some talent, or imagination, with the wicked serrated edges gracing polearms shaped as oversized glaves, poleaxes, and a couple that could nominally be called bardiches.

But they all shared a common flaw as well.

“They all seem a bit… brittle.”

The girl winced and swallowed. “I did my best. I swear it. And they will cut through rawhide and jerky just fine. I even have a perk that makes them self-sharpening! They never dull, they just chip a tiny bit, and I’ll be able to make them as hard as steel, as soon as I hit level 20 in my craft!” She said in a panicked rush.

She winced and flushed, but didn’t take her desperate brown eyes off his own.

“Please. I can tell at least a few of them appealed to you, right? And, well, I’d really like to eat today,” she said with a sad smile.

Eric winced. “Wait, you don’t have a guild you’re tide to? How did you even get… are you a dual adventurer professional type?”

She jerked a nod. “I am. Conscript and Shellmaster.” She smirked. “Toby and Chris were so sure we had a winning combination. That with my crafting and all of us adventuring together...” she swallowed and looked away.

Eric touched her shoulder in silent sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” he said, heart going out to the girl, able to guess her loss all too well.

“So now it’s just me,” she softly said. “Trying to make a living selling what I can, putting my blood, sweat, and tears into crafting weapons that just get people looking at me with… pity.” Her eyes flashed. “Having seedy men tell me I could have an easy life working for them, knowing exactly what they mean, because no adventurer has to worry about HIV or anything else, after a goodnight’s sleep. But I fucking refuse to sell my body just to survive!” The last she said with reddened eyes that widened at the sight of silver. “What um...” she flushed. “I mean it. I’m not going to spread my legs for coin… even if I would have kissed you in a heartbeat, had I met you at a party a year ago.”

Her cheeks blazed all the brighter, as if surprised by her own confession.

Eric gently placed the silver in her hand. “This is for the bardiche. And thank you.”

“But this is too much...”

He shook his head. “I have no idea how guilds work around here. But assuming they aren’t run by complete assholes, you might see if any that give you good vibes will take you on. But don’t be afraid to sell yourself… no, not that way… look I mean, tell them that at level 20, your perk will let you evolve your weapons to steel quality. Any guild smart enough to help you out now will reap massive rewards and great karma, I bet, later on, knowing they earned your loyalty even when other guilds are desperate to have you working under their roof, this time next year.”

Eric nodded down at her razor sharp prizes. “Any guild too shortsighted to appreciate how epic they’ll look wielding weapons that can cut through steel like butter, wearing hyper enchanted insect carapace armor when you perk the hell out of it by level 30 or 40 or whatever, are a bunch of idiots. And aren’t even worthy of sponsoring you.”

The girl gazed at him for long moments, slowly pocketing the coin. “Thank you,” she said.

Eric nodded. “I mean it. I definitely see potential.” He flashed a bitter smile. “If I weren’t currently on the run from a psychopathic bitch eager to control my life...”

“Girlfriend?”

“Egg donor.”

“Ouch.”

“Anyway, if things were different, I’d happily sponsor you myself.”

Her gaze turned desperate. “You have the money to sponsor me? You’ll never regret it, I promise you that.”

Eric sighed. “At the moment, I got a handful of copper and silver. And I’m guessing a ‘Blue Card’ means nothing to you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

Eric twirled the bardiche in his hands, skilled enough to angle the moulinets so as to neither affect his javelins nor the pale-faced girl looking at him with too-wide eyes.

He gave an approving nod. “You know what? Not half bad. If I come back this way again when times are less… strained, and I see you around, we’ll definitely have a chat about investing in the future.”

She flashed a sad smile. “Sure we will. Thanks for the silver, mister. This should feed me for a week.”

Eric dipped his head. There was so much he wanted to ask… but now was not the time. If he truly valued his freedom, he had to leave the city and stay out until his mother and her entourage grew bored and left. Because Eric guessed that time was at an absolute premium, and they were juggling too many balls between conquering and holding fresh territory and taking over whatever sized chunk of the world his mother was aiming for to worry about his sorry ass for more than a day or two.

Or so he hoped.

And if he did delay his purchase of several water flasks, basic camping supplies and a tarp to prioritize food purchases first so he could slip the girl whose name he hadn’t quite caught some rations, that alone was an acceptable loss. “So you don’t have to spend the rest of the day listening to your stomach growl or leaving your wares unattended,” he said to the girl smiling at him too brightly, considering that he didn’t even know her name, lest she ask him his.

Fortunately, he had already spotted where to purchase the water flasks, tightly wrapped rainproof tarp, and the other basic gear any adventurer needed. Because even if he did regenerate nearly four health points every second, that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a cloak to both cover his armor, protect against the rain, and roll up as a pillow for his head.

By the time he had what he thought should keep him fed for a week if he ate lean, and protected from elements to the extent that he had to worry about it, he had exactly 3 silver talons and 3 copper feathers to his name, in addition to a Blue Card worthless anywhere but in Freetown.

Even so, he found the excitement of the young adventurers also gearing themselves up all around him infectious, sharing in that sense of wonder and adventure with the whole wide world out there for them all to explore. A world now filled with endless opportunities for experience points and growth, for anyone who had the wit, savvy, and strength to claim their share.

______________

The smiles and nods he found himself sharing with more than one group of adventurers heading towards the western gate under the midday sun made it clear that he wasn’t alone in his excitement, though he was one of the very few who had no badge or insignia on his chest, not even a colored strip of cloth around his shoulder.

He had to fight not to smile at the occasional pitying glance this earned him, or the sneer from the elites, fully decked out in shining plate and mail or silken robes radiating arcane energies, most of those groupings riding snow white mares or geldings, all of them clearly thinking themselves a cut above the common rabble.

And Eric was just about to laugh and show them all just how fast an adventurer could make his way without any mount at all as he approached the wide open gate and the smiling guardsmen nodding them all through without a second glance, when he heard a completely unexpected voice near a stall at the edge of the impromptu market he had just left that filled him with joy to hear.

“You want a full gold eagle for this piece of utter garbage? Ha! You and I both know it won’t even last til the sun sets! I’d be wasting a fortune in credits, lucky if I can bind with it at all!”

Eric turned around with a smile, completely ignoring the hot-eyed glares of the well-dressed mounted trio just behind him, slipping past them so skillfully, so quickly, that they couldn’t say a word before the city guardsmen were waving them through.

Because Eric was happy to put his plans on hold at least long enough to greet old friends he feared he might never see again.

He couldn’t help smiling wide with a twinkle in his eyes when he caught sight of Alice, looking as strikingly beautiful as ever with her heart shaped features, lush full lips, piercing violet eyes, and looks that could kill. And how her lizard scale armor could both protect her so well yet hug her figure so gracefully as to look almost painted on was beyond him, happily chalking it up to her succubi nature. But the heartfelt smile she gave him in return, squeeling before wrapping him up in a tight grip, mascara not running at all as tears streaked down her face was both heartfelt and genuine, even if she possessed the latent power to seduce a king from his throne.

“Eric! Oh my god, you made it! After all the chaos and craziness of Gilton, I was so afraid… but you’re here! Guys, Eric’s here! And his scars… they finally healed up!”

“So we noticed,” said Morlekai, looking as handsome and dashing as ever, radiating a bemused confidence that would have screamed ‘made man’ in a different time and place, but now just let him blend in with countless other adventurer groups where there were always group leaders brimming with confidence. Though in Morlekai’s case, it was actually earned, and not just by running dungeons.

“Good to see you, Eric. The flame tattoo on your cheeks really does work for you.”

“Thanks, Morlekai. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself. As always,” Eric said with a smile.

“My man Eric, back at last,” said Drake, giving him a fierce bear hug before his eyes widened with disbelief a second later. “You’re fucking kiddin’ me!” the charming lug forever looking like the semi-pro football player said, shaking his head in genuine bemusement.

“What?” asked Louie, furrowed brow and powerful frame the merc equivalent of Drake’s gentler college alpha vibes, for all that Eric knew for a fact that they were equally dangerous and well-trained in all sorts of deadly toys, both modern era and historic.

But Drake, handsome as ever with his blond locks shimmering in the sun, just shook his head, he and the others having forgone their helmets in the comfort of the city, even if they were otherwise armored, “Give him a power hug. Try to get a compliment about how we’ve grown since he saw us last, with our 25 Strength!” Drake said.

Louie chuckled. “Don’t be an ass, Drake. Eric! It’s been less than a week, but it feels like forever since we saw you last. How the hell are you doing?” He said, giving Eric a shake and hug much like Drake had.

Then he too went strangely quiet, slowly stepping back and measuring Eric a bit too intently with his gaze.

“Eric, just how strong are you?” Louie asked.

Eric grinned. “What’s up, buddy? And damn if I haven’t missed all of you guys more than words can say! How are you all doing?”

“We’re good,” Morlekai said with a bemused smile. “We missed you, kid. Glad to see you made it back to us in one piece.” He then turned to gaze at his powerfully built friends, both of them now measuring Eric with their eyes. “It seems like Drake and Louie have been caught for a loop. Did you finally evolve your class?”

“That’s not all he’s evolved,” Alice said with an oddly possessive glare. “You found a new girl, didn’t you, Eric?”

Eric winced. “No to the former, and yes to the latter. Still a Conscript, but definitely making progress on the Core saturation front.”

Drake gave a slow shake of his head. “Naw, man. It’s more than that. I tried to jostle you, good-natured and all that, but you didn’t move an inch.”

Louie met Eric’s gaze with a hard smile. “Drake’s right. Eric, when I shook your hand, I was squeezing stone.”

Eric smirked. “We were both wearing greater lizard hide gloves. What did you expect?”

His friends gazed at him for long awkward moments.

“Do I even want to know what your Strength stat is now, Boyscout?” Drake asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Eric forced a laugh. “Probably not, my friend. Probably not.”

Louie snorted. “Fine, keep your secrets. Hell, if it’s actually over 25… nope, not going to ask. Not when there are far more pressing topics on our plate!”

“Yeah, like treating you to the meal of your life, good buddy!” said Drake with an oddly sympathetic smile. “And I can’t help but notice that you’re carrying a certain backpack that should be filled with anything but the adventuring supplies I see peaking out of it. And you got a bracer of basic javelins and you’re holding a bardiche made of… insect chitin.”

Eric flashed a beaming smile. “I know. Totally moving up in the world!”

Just then he froze, ears quivering with the haunting notes of a voice he had hoped never to hear again. His voice took a strange urgency.

“I don’t suppose you guys can help me get the fuck out of here?”

Morlekai’s bemused countenance became that of a professional troubleshooter in the blink of an eye as they quickly moved away from the stands. “What’s the scope of your problem? Orcs? Goblins?”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to say it. “Neither faction, for now. As in, both tribes pretty much want to kill me on sight, so what else is knew. But I’m a Contender. They don’t dare start shit with me here in the city. At least I hope not. Only if I confront them on the field of battle.”

This earned him more than a few surprised glances.

“Contender? Fuck, Morlekai, that sounds like what the Guild Bigwigs were all talkin’ about attending today up at that fancy ass hotel in the Blue Quarter! There’s no way in hell our little boyscout...”

Morlekai’s hard glare instantly silenced Drake. “When you say ‘Contender’…

Eric forced himself to nod. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean. Anyway, my mother’s also floating around, and let’s just say… she’s hungry to have me come back into the fold.”

Morlekai nodded, saying nothing even as a crimson crow inflated on his shoulder like a piece of origami before taking off and circling them.

Alice gave him an appraising look. “Your mother… she really is Aurelia Silver, right? You weren’t just fucking with us for fun back in Freetown, right? Because the more I look at you… yeah. I do see a resemblance. Not the fiery red hair and those wicked handsome irises of flame of yours. But now that your scars look like the cutest sparkly tattoos… I can see it.”

“Come on, babe. You saw the posters in his family’s underground pad the same as the rest of us, when I wasn’t distracting the hell out of you,” said Louie with a snort, earning a glare from Alice.

Eric nodded. “She is. And it seems like she’s a bit more than just an actress.”

“Such as...”

“Such as being pretty high up in the Sylvan Alliance.”

Louie gazed at Eric for long moments before cursing and shaking his head before they all abruptly slowed their pace as they approached an intersection, the group seeming to organically feel, like a pressure in the air, just the right moment to slip into an alley and race into the warrens of the southern quarter of the city, Eric trusting his rogue-savvy friends to sense roving eyes and pursuit far better than he possibly could, despite his Perception and Title boons.

Only after alternating between a casual stroll and racing for all they were worth, along alleys and backways leading ever deeper into the city, into areas that were by no means poor, but were definitely a far cry from the splendor of the city center, and nothing at all like the Blue Quarter, did they finally slow down.

Eric couldn’t help but note that the narrower boulevards had far less in the way of greenery dressing up the rough cobblestone roads and imperfect brickwork of most of this area, also smelling faintly of tanneries and meat processing plants. Perhaps nowhere near as bad as would be the case in a non magical 18th century Britain, which this part of the city resembled, but the funk was definitely in the air, as well as a faint patina of wood smoke and tiles baking under the sun.

“Eric?”

“Yeah, Morlekai?”

“Exactly how high up is Aurelia in your Sylvan Alliance?”

“Not my alliance!” Eric quickly qualified. “And I’m not exactly sure. Honestly, I don’t even want to think about it, if I can possibly help it. Because the more I do… the more worried I get,” he admitted as they approached a truly grand manor which served as a striking contrast to the increasingly roughshod state of this quarter of the city, sealed from the masses by walls of solid granite Eric could only assume that magic had brought into being, being a sharp contrast from the brownstone he had seen elsewhere and with a presence that felt somehow intimidatingly… solid.

Nonetheless, his friends didn’t hesitate to approach the front entrance, Morlekai pressing his palm upon a crimson six pointed star on the face of the steel gate… that slowly opened of its own accord.

Morlekai was about to enter before abruptly stopping, turning to face Eric and saying, almost formally, “Be welcome.”

Eric couldn’t help smiling with relief when an oppressive weight he only noticed for its absence suddenly lifted, catching sight of a grand tudor style manor surrounded by a miniature hedge maze and a grassy training field, if the equipment he saw and the pairs of sparring residence were any indication.

“Gladly. And thank you,” he replied. “And wow. It seems like your manor and field are more than a city block in size. That couldn’t have been cheap.”

“It wasn’t,” Morlekai said with a tight smile. “Why do you think we claimed what was the least populated corner of town?”

“It got a lot busier in the last four months,” Drake said as an aside. “Earth mages and others got to building, and people need homes and businesses need spots, and before you know it, no room for pretty boulevards or tree-lined streets at all.”

Eric nodded. “Totally 18th century England. Prosperous… but a bit crowded, a bit smelly. Maybe a bit cramped.”

“Not for us!” Louie happily declared. “Master Grim claimed this slice of land right when the blueprints were laid down and the ritual spells were being cast. And a handful of gold in the right person’s pocket and suddenly the boundaries were stretched just enough for our manor to be included on the right side of the city walls!”

Eric grinned up at the massive thirty foot granite walls that the keep-like manor was backed against, truly appreciating the scale, and sensing the sympathetic magic that had allowed the grand city wall to loop around in a far more modest granite barrier surrounding this little retreat from the rest of the city.

“Just how thick are the city walls?”

“Fifteen feet,” Morlekai said with pride. “The city wall is the manor’s back wall. Let us turn it into a proper keep and brace it perfectly. And you wouldn’t believe how hungry those goblins were to claim our humble little manor for themselves. That is… until we enticed them with something even better than our property.”

Eric blinked at this. “You managed to entice goblins without getting your fingers bitten off? The greediest little shits on the planet?”

Louie laughed. “Oh, sounds like our Eric has met our city’s ‘hosts’ already!”

Morlekai’s gaze crackled with sudden heat. “Watch your words, Eric. We’re in the middle of some delicate negotiations. We do not want to fuck this up for the sake of mutually bad first impressions.”

Alice nodded. “They can’t stand blood mages, apparently, and we can’t stand selfish little backstabbing shits. But we’re putting all that aside for something even more important.”

Eric frowned. “And what could that be?”

Drake grinned. “How about a Bronze Tier library not only listing all the hundreds of powers, classes, and progression paths including every single known Advanced tier class, but detailed explanations on how we can plan and shape our novice builds, including grimoires listing hundreds of White tier spells and powers? Information that can make all the difference between wealth and prosperity versus stunted classes, discordant abilities, and warped and hopelessly broken builds almost all newbloods suffer when their worlds are first integrated.”

Eric flashed a cold smile. “I’d say it sounds too good to be true. We’re a newly claimed world brimming with power, full of stupid natives who don’t know how to channel, use, or shape that power into classes that will survive the transition to Bronze, and whatever the hell comes after that. So, despite our so called advantage, we’re left stumbling at the gates and no threat to anyone by the time the grace period runs out. Then it’s time for the high-powered asshole scions of elite clans who already know the secrets to manipulating System abilities and maximizing their advantages to pick up the pieces and take over the whole damned world.”

Eric gave a cynical shake of his head. “There’s no way in hell any faction with designs on this planet would give us the keys to liberate ourselves and avoid that fate. Because the one thing they all have in common is wanting us weak and broken. Grist for their mills.”

Eric’s friends paused and stopped, gazing a bit too intently at Eric who found himself blushing. “Sorry. I’m gone for less than a week, and I’m spouting my cynical half-cocked conspiracy theories out of nowhere.”

Morlekai and Alice exchanged bemused looks. “I think Master Grim will like him,” Alice said.

“Our master asked the very same questions before receiving an answer that actually made sense,” Morlekai said, before leading the way through the grand front doors.

Eric blinked, surprised and oddly reassured when Drake clapped his shoulder.

“It won’t come cheap, Eric. But if you have the gold… anything’s possible.”