Book 6 - Chapter 1
The ocean below was almost always obscured by a thick mist that rose up from the churning waves a thousand feet below. On sunny days that mist would transform the surroundings into a long rolling field of hazy rainbows. When Brin first arrived at the monastery, to rest and heal from his wounds on Galan’s orders, he thought that he would never get bored of staring out at the sheer beauty of the place.
Of course, by the second day he was starting to get antsy, and by the third day, he began to plot. He still had enemies to fight and Skills to practice. His body was no good–the curse was a difficult one and in the three weeks from the end of the war until they arrived at the monastery, [Scarred, but Healing] had only ground away a single percentage point from his 95% penalty to Vitality. He’d had to be taken in the back of a wagon like a child.
Since recovery was the goal here, Brin selected a General Skill, his first in a while.
Recovery [1]
With the exception of permanent injuries, you have the ability to return to a normal state of health, mind, and energy.
Normally, it wasn’t a great Skill because being overly broad meant it would need to be fairly high level before any effects became apparent. But Aberthol had been taught a few ways to train it, and he was pretty confident he could merge it with [Scarred, but Healing]. With luck, it would apply his recovery boost to stamina, and with a lot of luck, his Mana.
That was far off in the future, though, because here at the monastery he wasn’t allowed to do anything hard or dangerous enough to start training the Skill. For now, he just needed to kill time until he could get out of here.
The abbot noticed right away when Brin started playing with [Multithreading] to practice his illusions and to speed up the passage of time.
“You’ll only be with us for such a short while. Why not take this time to rest your mind and seek peace?” He was an older man who went by ‘priest Tew’ and didn’t seem to have a Class. He also wore the exact robes and headdress that priest Ellion had worn in Hammon’s Bog, so of course Brin [Inspected] him immediately just to make sure.
DO NOT
The warning from the gods hadn’t been gentle on Brin’s still-tender mentality and he passed the rest of the third day in a daze with a pounding headache and no real ability to string thoughts together.
By the fifth day, the rest of the Lance was getting antsy. They whispered and fidgeted, and priest Tew drew them out one by one to remind them of the monastery’s rules. There was to be no talking during mealtimes, and no talking during sermons of course, or during the hours of silent meditation, nor while they were doing chores, and definitely not during the songs. Putting it all together, they soon realized that the only time speaking was allowed was during the short exercise period where they crossed the great stone bridge to stretch their legs on the green. Even then, any discussions they had were surrounded on all sides by disapproving frowns. Even though talking was allowed, it was clear that quiet murmurs and whispers were preferred.
The Lance was restless and had to be constantly reminded, which quickly got on Brin’s nerves. The brothers in the monastery didn’t let anything go. Every loud sniff, sigh, or twitch was corrected.
Marksi was no help. The dragonling was completely unbothered with the turn their life had taken. He was happy to curl up on the floor and sleep all day, waking only for meals. Or, if he craved an adventure, he simply left, and no one minded that he came and went freely and ignored any rules he found inconvenient. It was completely unfair.
By the time seven days had passed, the human members of the Lance were desperate to leave. Brin even went so far as to seek out priest Tew during the exercise period.
“I thank you for letting us rest and heal our bodies and spirits, but my injuries are fully recovered. I think it’s time we moved on. I have a duty to my nation, my parents, and my Order. I should return to action.”
Priest Tew nodded patiently. “Yes. A duty is a heavy thing, but have no fear. Galan ordered me to keep you here until you are fully recovered.”
During the week, Brin had spent plenty of time going over possible arguments and justifications, but he’d ended up deciding that simplicity was better. “I want to leave.”
“Why?”
“I told you why,” Brin said with a frown.
“No, not why do you think you should leave? I’m asking about what you want. Why do you want to leave?”
Brin resisted the urge to shake his head, trying not to let his annoyance show. “Because the world is falling apart and there’s a thousand things I should be doing right now! I should be training my body so that I don’t lose my Strength before this curse wears off. I should be with the Order, defending Galan’s homeland from the Frost King. Failing that, I could be fighting goblins and easterlings in Prinnash, or undead in Frenaria. They all need me and I can’t be in all three at once. And then there’s New Edelor! Lothar is building a new nation there, and he’s going to get it wrong if I’m not there to help steer the ship.”
“Is that all?” Tew asked.
“Not even close. I haven’t even mentioned the Tower. I’m supposed to be going there. And what about Arcaena? She’s on the back foot. If I could get a group together, with Lurilan and a few others, I bet I could find her and put an end to her once and for all. But it would have to be now before she reasserts herself.”
He really did think he could do it, too. Finding the main body would be the hardest part, but Lurilan could help with that. Last time they’d spoken, Hogg had speculated that Arcaena was too jealous to share her power for long–even with herself. He was willing to bet that Cati was either dead or already reverted back to a regular girl. If that was the case, it should be possible to devise a ritual to keep the rest of her copies from taking up her mantle in the first place. But didn’t they all see that they needed to act on this now?
Tew nodded to all of Brin’s arguments and then closed with, “I’ll have you stay one more day, at least.”
The next morning, Cid, Hedrek and Rhun left. Without Brin. Three days later, most of the rest of them departed, leaving only Brych and him.
Brych had removed the bandages from around his eyes, but from the way he blinked and squinted all the time it was clear that his vision hadn’t entirely returned, but even so, he was miserable to be left behind. They had a few hushed conversations about it during exercise time, but it was clear that Brych didn’t want to talk about it. To be fair, Brin didn’t either. Brych was clearly still recovering, but why did Brin get left behind?
When he confronted the abbot about it, all he got was, “They’ll be back soon. I promise you this: They’ll return and then you’ll all depart together as a Lance. Stay one more day, please.”
It wasn’t one more day, and the more time that passed, the more that Brin was certain this was the exact worst thing he could be doing for his state of mind. The quiet times, the meditations and the prayers were supposed to be for contemplation. He was supposed to be growing still and removing himself from the mundane in order to approach the divine. He was supposed to be thinking of the gods, of their virtues and their gifts, in order to align himself with the highest good.
Instead, his mind tortured him with memories. He replayed all of Aberfa’s greatest hits, going over all the fear and pain, making it grow worse and worse in his memories. He became the little lost boy in Travin’s Bog again. He was stabbed, burned, poisoned, and diseased, each horrible memory churning through his thoughts again and again.
It would be better if he was working. If he could drown the memories in physical training, or focus on his magic or glassmaking, but there was nothing to do. He was raw and vulnerable to the constant, pressing tension of his mind.
A letter arrived from Lumina. Most of it was praise of all that he accomplished during the war, and excitement about how he’d dealt with making an Oath to Lothar and the rise of New Edelor. He mostly skimmed that part; he already knew what he’d done. Then towards the bottom, he saw the portion he was interested in.
As for present circumstances, I fear there are few options open to you. The Tower would not be wise. You are still a bit young, and besides, it’s nearly empty as most [Mages] of quality have been called away to deal with undead incursions. Prinnash cannot be called quite safe for you at present, because of a little complication I was involved in. New Edelor would be the worst of all. There are many [Assassins] who are doing nothing more than waiting for you to show your face, hired by Metlion’s allies and enemies both. I must trust in Galan, that he will give more attention to your safety than the last time that he promised me thusly. He says he has a safe place for you in Olland. Please stay there until the situation settles.
On the twentieth day, Brych left the monastery.
That was when Brin gave up on the idea of praying for the gods to reverse his curse. That had to be the real reason he was here, right? Lumina had mentioned once that she’d stayed cloistered somewhere, praying for the gods to reverse Awnadil’s curse. But it hadn’t worked for her, and it wasn’t going to work for Brin. He’d prayed to every major and minor god in every way he knew how, but the heavens were silent.
He even talked to Tew about it, and while the priest hadn’t given him a definite answer, he’d asked questions that guided Brin’s mind towards some possibilities. At the end of the day, he didn’t really resent the curse. The Death Curse of Arnarra might have killed every single member of Brin’s Lance. Compared to that, this measly amount of suffering was such a small price to pay that it didn’t even bear thinking about.
Also, [Scarred, but Healing] would take care of it eventually, and it would turn into a huge increase into his recovery speed when it was done. He felt a little impious praying for a miracle to resolve something he also had an answer to.
No, what he really resented was that the curse was making him so weak that he wasn’t out there fighting with his men anymore. That was a problem that wouldn’t go away with any amount of mental reframing.
On the twenty-first day he made his first attempt to escape. He turned himself invisible, kept a Mirror Image of himself at prayer, and then walked through the front doors, cursing himself that he hadn’t done this to leave with the rest of his Lance.
When he crossed the threshold, however, his illusions snapped off. It didn’t even feel like the Eveladis, they just ceased. He turned his Invisibility back on immediately, of course, but an elderly monk with a cane and a limp noticed him. He softly waved his cane back and forth until he tapped Brin and then grabbed him firmly by the arm and returned him to the chapel for prayers. At his full strength, he could have shrugged this man off with ease, but now he was caught firmly. He had a mad urge to summon blades and bullets of glass and fight his way free, but why? This old monk didn’t deserve that. Brin had no choice but to meekly submit. For now.
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Almost as a consolation prize, he got an alert.
[Recovery] leveled up! 1 -> 2
Brin made his second escape attempt the twenty-second day. He simply waited for the exercise period when they were already outdoors and across the bridge, and turned invisible then.
There were a few outbuildings, some gardens where the monks grew a few vegetables for their supper, and fields with goats, but nothing that could be called a town and definitely no walls. Brin simply strode out into the wilderness. He’d had to leave his armor behind and couldn’t grab supplies, but he had some Titles and Skills that should help with rough living.
He walked four miles, which was as far as he dared with his Vitality-stunted body, and then summoned some glass and sawed a few branches off an old dead tree for a fire, which he also lit with magic. Then he placed a dome of illusion around the whole thing to hide him from view in case any of the monks came calling. It was a simple camp, but he didn’t need much. This was fine. It was early autumn and a bit chilly, but not nearly cold enough to bother him with [Survivor of Travin’s Bog].
Marksi thought it was a grand adventure and scurried around excitedly. He dug up a few field mice and insects from underground and then curled up next to the fire to sleep.
Brin saw him stir, perking up a bit and sniffing as if something were nearby, but then it must’ve been nothing because he settled back down again.
A few seconds later, Tew stepped up to the fire and sat next to Brin.
They didn’t speak right at once. Tew seemed content to watch the fire burn down. When the last flame flickered out, he nudged logs closer together with a stick, which caused it to light up again.
“Have you forgotten your duty to Sir Galan, and to the oath you swore to Sir Gurthcid, your Prime?”
“They abandoned me. I should be out there, and they just left without a word,” said Brin.
“Isn’t it you who are abandoning them?” asked Tew. “You’ve abandoned your duty, so you have abandoned them. Your orders are to stay at the monastery and recover.”
“I am recovered! My injuries are as healed as they’re ever going to get!”
“Then what’s the harm in staying one more day?” asked Tew.
“I’m not getting better,” Brin admitted. “The boredom is killing me. I can’t stop my mind from spiraling into all the worst places. I need something to do. I need to be busy.”
“I can’t give you that, because I don’t think I should. But maybe I can do something. There is a certain peace in this place, but only for those who seek it. You have to let it in, and doubly so with your mental resistances,” said Tew.
Brin didn’t want to be mind controlled into complacency. He wanted to leave. But at the same time, he had sworn an oath to the Cid and the Order. If it had been a System Oath then he would’ve felt guilt-free in trying to find a loophole, but it hadn’t been. He’d sworn to serve the Order, and he’d actually meant it.
That didn’t help the hurt at being left behind. They were out fighting the Frost King; they had to be. They hadn’t wanted to face whatever was out there with a battered and broken no-Vitality Brin, so they’d left him here where he was safe. He understood the reasoning, even though he thought his magic more than made up for his lack of physicality. He understood, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“I’ll try it for one day,” said Brin.
The walk back winded Brin more than he cared to admit, and after resting for a bit, [Recovery] went up again.
[Recovery] leveled up! 2 -> 3
The next morning, things were different, but surprisingly the same. The first few hours of meditation in the morning Brin spent adjusting his own defenses in order to let the location Skill of the monastery work its magic on him. Since he was nervous about what it did, he kept a thread on a timer to make his defenses snap back on at the end of the day to make sure they weren’t doing something weird to him.
The day passed smoothly and he felt more or less normal. It wasn’t until the end of the day when the thread returned that he realized that he’d gone the entire day without reliving one of his worst moments in his thoughts.
Over the next few days, he was bored. It wasn’t the kind of horrible, nauseating, painful boredom that he’d been experiencing up to this point. It was the kind of boredom that made him want to try purposeful contemplation rather than just sitting and waiting. If he had to live the monk life, he might as well be doing monk things.
Once in a while he slipped up. He tried [Multithreading] a couple times, using it to make the hours go faster, but priest Tew always seemed to be able to tell if he was using any kind of Skill.
“Is your own mind truly such an enemy to you that you can’t bear to be alone with it? Dwell with us two more days and learn to be at peace with yourself.”
The days passed. Slowly, but they passed. He started to fall into a rhythm. He began to take the prayers seriously, and sometimes meditation periods passed in a blink, where he thought that he’d been sitting in the palace of the gods, feeling their presence, and when it ended he wound up wishing it could’ve gone just a few minutes longer.
He found himself looking forward to the music most of all. They all sang together in high chant. Back in his old life, he’d heard that kind of music and had sort of ascribed the sound to the efforts of professional singers. But here, he found that it was pretty easy to get started and follow along. The songs sounded complex, but they were predictable once you understood them. There were so few words and they took so long to say, he ended up memorizing them all far quicker than he’d expected. In the absence of any other kind of entertainment, the music sounded better and better in his variety-starved ears until he really started to love them.
The sermons were also interesting in their way. They were all based on the teachings of a priest called Cambul. The man himself never demonstrated any sort of miracles or divine authority, but he’d started writing scripture and teaching the will of the gods and hadn’t been struck down by divine lightning, and apparently that was enough.
Much of it matched what he’d already gathered of the practical, tried-and-true moral ethics of the world. Get married, obey the law, don’t take an evil Class. But there was also a lot of Class and level stuff that he was only noticing now. You weren’t supposed to do something just for the levels. You were supposed to level by doing stuff that you already wanted to do. He’d already known that from his blunders at Hammon’s Bog, but it was a surprise to hear it laid out in an official theology rather than as a cultural norm.
After three months, the guilt set in. He started thinking obsessively about the officer he’d murdered in Canibri. He’d saved a lot of lives by getting those soldiers into the fight, but at the same time, that could only be called a murder, right? He also thought of the Arcaenean soldiers he’d killed from horseback as they tried to run away, and about stabbing the mad [Witch] Bianca to death why she screamed and cried for mercy. That led him down the list to his lesser guilts until he started thinking about the thing with Zilly and Davi, and how he’d left things with Myra, and about all the people he hadn’t kept in contact with in Hammon’s Bog.
In the silent monastery, the thoughts rang so loudly that they became deafening. This time, even the monastery’s location Skill wasn’t helping. He finally went to Tew with it, because it was either that or burst from the pressure. To his credit, Tew guided him through it all, line by line and day by day, helping him to make peace with the things he’d done and the pain that he carried.
That was about when Cowl returned to the monastery. Brin was desperate for news and cornered him in the exercise yard to get the details. According to Cowl, the Lance had been doing a whole lot of nothing. They rode around seeking the Frost King’s men. Sometimes they found them and engaged in a tense stand-off, and sometimes they camped in place for weeks with no explanation why. Typical army stuff, according to the older veterans.
Brin kept pressing, hungry for details, asking for stories, but Cowl didn’t really want to talk. The [Knight of Burdens] seemed to be grateful for the fact that he’d been sent back here, except for when Brin was pestering him. He’d wanted to come. Brin kept pressing anyway until priest Tew told him to stop.
By the fourth month, Brin had settled into the same sort of gratitude. This life wasn’t so bad. The days all bled into each other, but it was fine. It really was peaceful here.. And how could he have forgotten how stunning it was? He really could gaze out at the waves and the cliffs for hours.
Sometimes, he woke up with a start and furiously examined his mind for interference, because this wasn’t him. Peace? Relaxation? That didn’t sound like Brin at all. But the more he searched the more he found no traces of the monastery’s mental effects working on him. They’d ceased to work on him months ago after settling his traumatic memories. There was no Mental Manipulation. This peace was his own. The first Skill he got in this world didn’t complain, not even when he saw a sunset that sparkled in rainbow fractals across a sea of mist in a way that simply couldn’t be believed.
This is real.
In the fifth month, it was cold. Most of the cold came from loneliness. It crept up on him in his contemplation and during the prayers and gripped his heart, not letting go. He was surrounded by brothers at all times, but they were strangers to him, and Cowl didn’t talk much. Lumina and Hogg sent him letters, but they didn’t always answer the questions in the letters he sent back. They promised he could leave soon, but he didn’t find that as reassuring as he used to. It really wasn’t bad here, and where would he be going?
Eventually, Lumina announced that she was finally being let free of her imprisonment in Theranor. She failed to mention why she’d been there in the first place or for what crimes she’d been imprisoned. Maybe it had something to do with why Brin wasn’t welcome in Prinnash? The only clarification she gave to that bit of information was to reply to his worried letters to insist that she’d been very comfortable. Prison for [Archmages] was not the same as prison for regular people. There were no further details on where she was going next or what her plans for him were.
Winter had been going on for a while at that point; even near the sea Olland got several feet of snow at a time when a winter storm came through. It stacked up so high that they made a tunnel on the stone bridge that connected them to land. On the three feast days that the monastery celebrated, the others could even be tempted into a snowball fight.
They were quiet, the other men, but over time he started to realize that they weren’t actually monks. They were like him. Just men, who were hiding from something, or healing from something, or simply checked out from the world. Tew was the only priest of the gods. The rest were just guys.
In the sixth month, he started to feel antsy again. He was the first out the door on the exercise hour, and the last to come back in when it was done. Spring hadn’t arrived exactly but he could smell it on the wind and he felt the stir of energy pushing him back to life again.
It was a lot like when he first arrived; he was impatient with everything and wanted to work, to move, to have problems to think about and trials to overcome. At the same time, it couldn’t be more different. He didn’t suffer. He didn’t hate his mind or his own thoughts. He just wanted to have a purpose. He wanted to be in the world instead of sitting around.
He started pulling up his Status sheet again and again, and agonizing about what he saw there. The curse was retreating very slowly, and he was losing Strength and Vitality. In his weakened state, he simply couldn’t do enough exercise to keep in shape. His Skills were all stalled, since the only one he was allowed to practice was [Meditation].
Age: +1
Strength: -15
Dexterity: -1
Vitality: -6
[Meditation] 23 -> 46
[Recovery] 3 -> 10
Alert! You have advanced an Achievement!
Meditative (Rare)
You have reached level 40 in the Meditation Skill
+10 Mental Control -> +20 Mental Control
[The Death Curse of the Great Witch Arnarra] -95% Vitality -> -85% Vitality
[Scarred, but Healing] rate: 325% -> 435%
[Bitten] Title removed.
It was dreadful. Once again, he sought out priest Tew, even though he had begun to believe that the man was adding another month onto his sentence every time he asked to leave.
“Why do you want to leave?” asked Tew. It was a sunny day out in the exercise field, and the snow glistened in the cold light like a million diamonds.
Brin breathed in through his nose, letting the stinging cold air fill his lungs. He’d miss this back in Frenaria. “I want to go to school. Is that crazy? The idea of doing all those normal, everyday things like studying for an exam or stressing about being late to class sounds like heaven. I want to have friends, learn about magic, work on my glass, and yes, do things that get levels. I want to live with Hogg and Lumina if I can. I want…I want to kiss a girl. Or even see a girl.”
Tew actually barked out a laugh at that, but then he waited for Brin to continue.
“I want to live my life.” Only looking back on it now, could he see just how bad a state he’d been in when he’d arrived. He could use his glass rings to go back and remember exactly how he’d been feeling back then, and it was rough. Even after getting back from Aberthol he’d been a complete mess, and as hard as it had been in those first days, these months of silence might have been the only thing that could’ve helped him the way that they had. He didn’t even resent his Lance for leaving anymore, though he did miss them.
“You don’t want to go out and solve all the world’s problems? What about the Frost King? Arcaena?” asked Tew.
Brin shrugged. “I won’t close my eyes to the horrors of the world. I’ll do my duty when the time comes. But that’s not really the point of it all.”
Tew stroked his chin, and then finally nodded. “Stay with us for one more day.”
Somehow, this time it sounded much different than all the other times. Brin went back to his bunk in the dormitory and woke up Marksi. The little dragon had taken to sleeping twenty-two hours in a day, only waking to eat, and nothing Brin could do would coax him out of it.
This time, however, he yawned and then hopped to his feet, bright-eyed and awake as if no time had passed at all. His body had changed, though. His stomach wobbled while he walked like a jelly cake with legs. He didn’t seem bothered by it, just like he never minded all the time they’d spent here.
The thing about dragons was that they were ready for anything. You want to spend my entire childhood fighting one horrible battle after another? I’m game! Now you want to spend seven months doing absolutely nothing for no reason? I’m totally down for that, too! So what’s next?
The next day, the Lance arrived, and they brought Galan with them.