Torra chuckled. “You know, the church doesn’t like when you use that phrase. Makes it sound like you’re using us to get ’round their restrictions.”

“That is precisely what we do,” Victoria commented. “And the church knows it.”

“It’s not a loophole,” Torra countered. “We actually keep our parties accountable. You meet another group of adventurers out in the woods that don’t have a church member? Better get ready for a fight, because at that point they might as well be bandits.”

I actually believed that part. I’d seen what some members of the Adventurer’s Guild got up to when they thought no authorities were watching. “What’s it actually mean to be a straight edge?” I asked Torra.

“It just means I’m a member of the Church of Marketh in good standing. I attend the weekly service when I’m in town, I tithe, I don’t drink, and I really don’t get Brands.”

I groaned. “Ouch. That sounds like a hassle. What could possibly make all that worth it?”

“I can buy stuff from the Artificer’s Guild,” Torra said. “They only work with members of the church. Most high-ranking parties keep at least one church member around just for that.”

“And when we have enough money for that to actually matter, we’ll be sure to thank you,” Alloha commented.

Torra shrugged. “For low ranks, it usually doesn’t matter, sure, but as much as I like you guys, I don’t go to church for you. I do it for myself.”

Alloha winked at me. “He says that,” she said, “but if he can even reach iron rank as a straight edge, he’ll be in higher demand than any of us. A straight edge that can carry his weight in combat is worth his weight in gold.”

“Sounds like it,” I agreed. “If someone with a Skill that only makes their hands glow can do well without Brands, I can see the appeal. If I were you, Torra, I’d be buying every Brand I could get.”

“Like a Brand to make you taller?” Torra asked with a wide grin. “Sorry, they don’t make those!”

“Hey!” The rest of the party laughed at Torra’s quip. After a second, I was forced to join in. It wasn’t as common for my buddies back home to joke about my height, but it still reminded me fondly of home to be comfortable enough with someone to be okay with them teasing me.

I had a question once everyone calmed down. “Why does access to the Artificer’s Guild even matter? When I was visiting the Broker’s I saw they had magic weapons and armor for sale. Seems like anyone that can’t get into the Artificer’s could just shop there, no?”

Torra snorted. “If you’re okay buying everything second hand.”

Alloha explained. “The Brokers don’t make anything,” she said. “They only resell it. If you ever want to custom order anything, or get your Skill put into an artifact, you need to go through the Artificers. That’s just how it’s done.”

“Don’t forget, they’re also the only ones that can recharge artifacts. Almost everything the brokers sell is dun.”

“Wait. Hold on,” I said. “Did you say, ‘get your Skill put into something’, Alloha? Is that an option?” My mind spun, thinking of all the potential applications of imbuing my Skill into a weapon. Arrows that drained the life out of their targets? Yes, please.

“Not all Skills transfer well to artifacts,” Torra said. “It would take an artificer to tell you for sure. What most people like is that artifacts have their own internal MP supply. At the highest levels of combat, Brands only take you so far. Once you run out of MP, they’re useless.”

“So how does it work, exactly?” I asked. “When a Skill is put into an object.”

“Depends on the Skill,” Alloha said. “Like Torra said, most don’t work well as artifacts. Take my Skill, for example. I control wood from a distance. That wouldn’t work. There’s some kind of special rule about Skills not being able to leave the metal they’re imbued into. I don’t even think mine would do anything. Grant’s though, would do great.”

“Reverse Gravity?” I asked, remembering the basic description he’d given of it. “Yeah, I could see how that would work. Put it in a pair of boots and you could basically fly.”

“That’s the plan, as soon as we have the money,” Torra said. “I’ll get boots made for the whole party and they’ll call us the ‘Flying Aces’. It’ll be great for hunting dragonlings.”

“Ha, you guys can do that on your own,” Alloha said. “I’m stopping at bronze. My ego’s not so big that I need to hunt dragonlings to feel like I made it.”

“Something about the Artificer’s Guild doesn’t make sense to me,” I complained to Torra. “How do they put Skills into artifacts if they’re against Branding? Shouldn’t the person with whatever Skill they’re using to do it eventually die? I thought the Brokers were the only ones that could pass on Skills like that.”

“Ha!” Torra laughed. “Not even close, man. The church has been passing on Skills among the faithful for thousands of years. The pope decides who’s worthy and passes on Skills father to son or mother to daughter. Taking your Skill with you into the afterlife only weighs down your soul. That’s why most of the faithful donate their Skill to the church when they get older.”

“So if you die before you can donate your Skill, what? You’re just screwed?”

“Nah,” Torra said. “If you’re faithful, priests will gather your remains so you can donate your Skill after you die.”

I blinked involuntarily several times as I tried to take that in. I had to hustle to catch back up as the others continued on without me. “Wait,” I said as I jogged back up. “The church pulls Skills out of corpses? That doesn’t seem very church-like.”

Alloha chuckled. “Corpses? You didn’t know the church can bring people back to life after they die?”

“It’s the most holy Skill,” Torra insisted. “It offers a mercy to those passing from our world to the next. The pope can’t rip Skills out of people. They have to choose to give them up. Bringing you back if you died unexpectedly just gives you one last chance to do that. You don’t turn into a revenant. It’s just Last Rites.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“You’re still you,” Torra said. “You just only get one last day to say goodbye to your loved ones and settle your affairs. The church does a big ceremony every year in Vinima for all the faithful whose deeds have earned them a Last Rite. It’s a great honor.”

Victoria let out a derisive snort from where she was eavesdropping in front of us, earning a glare from Torra.

“What about permanent resurrection?” I asked. My mind immediately went to possibly using resurrection as a work-around for my cancer. If I didn’t find a cure, I could just let it kill me, then have someone revive me. “If there’s a Skill to revive someone for just a day, then surely someone’s developed a Skill to bring people back permanently, right?”

Victoria barked out a laugh at my question, then shook her head while stifling more laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she commented.

Torra tapped his chest three times in a triangular pattern and looked to the sky. “Marketh, bless us and honor us as we try to talk sense into this foolish Outworlder.”

“What?” I asked. “What did I say?”

Alloha cleared her throat. “Permanent resurrection is probably the most famous black magic Skill to ever exist. That’s what the Lich King Fayden did to create his army of revenants.”

“I want to like you,” Torra said, “so I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask if anyone has the Skill Undead Servant. You, uh, didn’t know any better, right?”

“No,” I insisted, “I didn’t. That doesn’t even make sense. Why is it holy to bring someone back for a day, but evil to bring them back forever?”

“If it was Marketh’s will for us to live forever, we wouldn’t get old,” Torra said.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard that one before,” I said. “God’s got a plan for everyone, and I shouldn’t try to subvert it. Well, I think his plan for me sucks! I’ve only got a few months left to live. How is that fair?”

Alloha covered her mouth. “That rumor was true?” she asked. “You poor—”

“No! No sympathy. I’m dealing with my own problems. I understand your society’s rules. Black magic is evil. I won’t bring up resurrection again.”