B01DCAV4W2 (S) (13 page)

  Richter was greeted with smiles and warm greetings when he walked inside of the longhouse.  The building served a dual function of meeting place and rest area.  He took a wooden bowl of deer stew from the villagers cooking outside, and then walked around.  He tried to engage most of his villagers as he ate.  Though he didn’t have any long conversations, everyone seemed to appreciate the effort he was making to connect.  One thing he noticed as he did his rounds, was that there were small pockets of people who were quieter and somewhat withdrawn.  Richter saw the three villagers who had been talking outside of the Forge earlier among those groups.

The room was lit with strategically placed torches.  Each bracket in the wall was placed beneath a cleverly constructed air vent that pulled most of the smoke from the room.  The floor was wooden, and straw was spread around.  Someone had found a fragrant plant to throw into the fireplaces at either end of the room, filling the building with a pleasant scent. 

One of the elves produced a lute and lightly plucked it in one corner, the music blending with the villagers’ happy voices in a comforting cacophony.    Richter pulled Randolphus aside and told him about what had happened in the catacombs.  The chamberlain documented everything, always hungry for more information.  When Richter asked if the female prisoner had been fed and taken care of, Randolphus assured him that he would ensure it.  Enjoying the good times and improving food, Richter had started feeling bad about keeping the young woman prisoner.  She had already been poorly used by fate, which made him feel sympathy, but he still didn’t feel bad enough to underestimate her. 

He planned to have her sent back on the ship as soon as it returned with Basil.  Sending her home alone through dangerous countryside just didn’t seem right, but he also couldn’t spare anyone to escort her.   The ship was the best option he could come up with to deal with her.  When he thought of the mercenary prisoner though, his eyes hardened for a moment.  Richter would deal with that man in the morning and it wouldn’t be pleasant. 

A quick movement at the edge of his vision snapped Richter out of his dark thoughts.  Alma was swooping through the air, catching morsels of food the children threw up to her.  Greedy glut, Richter thought with a smile.  She kept up the game until she had eaten her fill and then perched up on one of the rafters.  Her belly was distended and a self-satisfied grin rested on her draconoid face. 

Richter also pulled Beyan to the side and handed over the kobold eyes as well as one of the vials of ichor from the crypt mistress.  He asked the gnome if he could make something out of them.  Beyan smiled for the first time that Richter could remember.  The smile was directed at the four gooey spheres and the vial in his hands, and not at Richter, of course.  Beyan said it was a shame that he had not been able to grab the scent glands as well.  Richter’s face adopted a pained expression and he admitted that he had found the scent gland, but that he’d thrown it down the hunters’ pit.  Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, the alchemist was running from the building to collect them.   Richter looked after him with an expression of open mouthed shock.  Little freak, he thought, then he realized Beyan hadn’t ever actually said what potions he could make. 

After about an hour, Richter stood up on a stool, Futen hovering behind him.  Randolphus called for quiet.

“Is everybody having a good time tonight?” Richter shouted with one hand cupped to his ear.

“Yes!”

“We are!”

“Gnomes rule!”

Richter looked out over the crowd, but still didn’t see who was saying that last bit!  Shaking his head, he continued, “Well I wanted to say that I am delighted about all of the great work ya’ll have put into the village while I was gone!”  There was a cheer in response to his words.  “Everyone’s wage this month will include an extra silver.”  Now THAT got a loud cheer!  Richter laughed and waved them to be quiet again.  He smiled at seeing his people so happy and scanned the crowd.  Then he made eye contact with a woman.  The same woman he had held weeks ago after the bugbear attack.  The same day that she had lost her daughter.

He spoke again, with a more serious tone, “Yes, I am proud of all of you and proud to be a part of this community.  Our future is bright, but we must not forget those that we have lost.  We must always remember the sacrifices that have been made.  We must learn,” he made eye contact with the woman again, “from our past mistakes so that we may better safeguard the future.  Most of all, we must never forget the ones that we have lost.  Everyone please come with me.”

Richter got down from his perch and started walking outside.   At his command, Futen put out a bright light to illuminate the twilight cloaked village.  At an easy pace, he led all of his villagers to the meadow north of the village.  Climbing the slope, he waited at the top for some of the older villagers who had trouble making the ascent and then kept walking.  The villagers walked past the herb garden and moved past the Quickening, finally arriving in front of the tarp covered section of cliff face.  Outside of Richter, Randolphus, and Gloran, only one of the stone masons knew what was underneath.  Richter turned to face his people who were looking at him with curiosity. 

“We must never forget those that have fallen.  As long as this mountain stands, we never will.”

He pulled on a cord attached to the tarp, revealing what was underneath.

A square plaque had been carved out of the mountain, raised several inches from the rest of the cliff face.  It was seven feet tall and ten feet wide.  Inscribed on the plaque were the names of each of the twenty-one villagers who had died in the bugbear attack and the names of each of the sprites who had died defending the village.  Randolphus had spoken to the villagers and Hisako and found a fact about each of the fallen.  Under each name was a detail written in the Common tongue.

Nilan.  She loved music.

Urim.  He was the funniest dwarf in his village.

Tanor.  His favorite pie was blue melon. 

Simple truths, every one of them.  The point was not to sum up their lives, though.  The purpose of the monument was to keep the memories of the dead alive.  To show a small piece of their personality and soul. 

The last inscription brought a tear to Richter’s eye.

Petal.  She smiled with her whole heart. 

At a word from Richter, Futen extinguished his light plunging the meadow into relative darkness.  The monument was draped in shadow, but only for a moment.  Gloran finished his assignment.  Using the basic soul gem, he powered a simple spell.  Each letter of the monument glowed with a soft white light.  The immortalized memories of the dead illuminated the night for the living.

A prompt appeared in Richter’s vision. 

You have created a monument to the dead of your village.  You have shown that you honor the sacrifices of those who have given their lives on your behalf.  Your people respect what you have done, and feel they can put their faith in a ruler who values them.  Loyalty +300.

Know This!  The deaths of your villagers coupled with your admission of guilt, created a segment of your population that resented you.  At different rates, their Loyalty had been falling since the attack.  If left unchecked, their Loyalty may have fallen to the point that they would desert the village, or even worse, actively rebel.  Your monument has stopped this Loyalty drain. 

You have completed a Secret Quest: Heavy is the Head.  Your power comes with responsibility.  There is no manual to living a good life as an individual.  There most certainly is no easy way to lead an entire people.  You accepted this quest implicitly by your actions and your Mastery over the Mist Village.   Never forget to honor your people as you demand they honor you.  Reward: Your people will feel more comfortable speaking with you which can lead to further quests in the future. 

The villagers stood in silence looking at the monument.  Tears fell freely from more than one eye, and many paired off to hold one another.  Now that the enchantment had been shown, Richter cast
Far Light
several times against the cliff face.  The light was just enough that he could make out everyone’s faces.  They all stood quietly to honor the dead.  After a time, one of the men who had been quiet during dinner walked up to Richter.  Analyze showed that his name was, Sedrin.  It also showed that his disposition was ‘Distaste.’  It was the first time Richter had seen any of his villagers with anything other than a friendly disposition.

Sedrin’s jaw was tight with emotion and Richter could see his eyes were red rimmed with unshed tears.  He stood in front of Richter and it was unclear whether he intended to throw a punch or not.  When he did extend his arm, however, it was with an open hand.  Richter looked at it for a moment.  He was wary in light of Sedrin’s negative disposition toward him.  He did stick out his own hand though.  Whatever was about to come, the man deserved to have his say. The two men clasped wrists. 

Sedrin spoke, his voice nuanced with unexpressed feelings, “Petal was my daughter.”  He stopped for a moment, needing to compose himself.  “Thank you for remembering her.  I will come to see this plaque often… she
did
smile with her whole heart.”  The tears fell from his eyes as Sedrin finally found catharsis.

Richter placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.  He communicated in touch what his words would have failed to say.  Petal would be mourned and remembered by both of them. 

When Sedrin had composed himself again, he spoke in a rough voice, “I promise to stand by you now, my Lord Richter.”

The slightest bit of extra emphasis had been placed on the word ‘now.’  A prompt appeared.

Your relationship with Sedrin has improved from Distaste to Neutral.

Richter nodded his head in understanding.  More people came up and had variations of the same conversation with him.  It was an emotional time as many more tears were spilled, and stories of remembrance were spoken for all to hear and witness. 

As painful as speaking of their departed loved ones must have been, it was also cleansing for the villagers.  Facing their pain, and being able to share it, was like lancing an emotional abscess.  Feelings of hate and anger were drained away.   It caused pain as the spiritual wounds were exposed again, but it also left everyone feeling clean.  After tonight, individuals, and the community as a whole, could heal. 

The stories went on for a while, and Richter had to renew the lights several times.  There were a few more things he had planned to do, but he decided to leave it for another night.  He slipped off to his room and fell asleep. 

CHAPTER 8

Richter woke to a sharp pain in his neck.  He tried to move his arm and swat at whatever was sticking him, but couldn’t lift his hand.  Panic began to set in as he realized that he couldn’t move any part of his body voluntarily.  At first he thought he must be dreaming still.  Maybe he had awoken in REM and his voluntary motion was disabled.  The evolutionary defense mechanism that kept you from running off a cliff if you were running in a dream.  Somehow he knew this was no dream, however.  He was simply paralyzed.

He heard a buzzing in his ear, then a large wasp flew into his field of vision.  The thing was a big as his thumb!  Not quite as large as the hellbug Xuetrix had summoned, but still more than large enough to freak Richter out!  He made the connection between the bug and the pain in his neck.  The damn wasp must have stung him and caused his paralysis somehow! 

As soon as he had that thought, he experienced another two sharp sticks in his thigh.  He couldn’t even look down to see what caused this second pain.  His helplessness was maddening! 

Even though he couldn’t move his body, he could still think.  Accessing his personal interface, he saw an icon that looked like a man with ropes tied around him.  A countdown timer was next to the icon.  10, 9, …  There was a second icon that just a picture of a head with wavy lines around it.  It had an almost ten-minute countdown attached. 

Richter sighed in relief, or at least he would have if he had any control over his voluntary motions.  He didn’t know how this bug had made him lock up, but what he did know, was that as soon as this paralysis ended, he was going to deep fry that buzzing bastard!  In fact!  Why wait? 

*
Alma!
*

As opposed to feeling the reassuring mental echo that he normally associated with his Psi Bond connection with Alma, he felt like he had no connection at all.  It was like there was only static in the portion of his mind that normally had a clear connection to his familiar. 

That’s when he heard her voice.

“My Lord Richter!  Are you alright?”  Natosca, the female prisoner, came into his field of view.   “What’s wrong?”  Her expression was one of intense concern.

Richter just stared back at her.  He was completely frustrated by his inability to move or speak.  He was also totally confused by her presence in his room.  Why wasn’t she under guard?  It didn’t matter, he only had three seconds left on his paralysis