1.43 R

“Awaken, Human.”

“Sit up.”

“Stand, please.”

“Ah, of course. Clothing.”

“[Repair].”

“Human, be silent and still. Do not speak or move save that I require a response. I will ask you questions, and you will answer to the best of your abilities, promptly and audibly. You will perform no magic and act in no violent ways while you are in my home.”

“Also, do not defecate, befoul, or otherwise sully this place in any way, shape, or form. And stand up straight.”

“I care not about your name, but you are a Runner, a messenger, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. But then tell me—why did you risk such a dangerous request? Three of your kind have perished already attempting to reach my home. What drove you to risk death for this delivery?”

“For the reward. Eighty gold pieces.”

“Simply for that? No other reason?”

“I took the request for the money, but also because I wanted to challenge myself. There are no other requests in the Runner’s Guild I could have taken, either. I am being blocked from other deliveries by fellow Runners, and this is the only request I could take.”

“Hm. I see. How very mundane.”

“Very well, then tell me: where do you come from? I have not seen features nor skin color such as yours on this continent for…a long time. Where were you born?”

“I was born in Oakland, California.”

“I am not familiar with either name. What nation does this Oakland California hail from?”

“America.”

“Hm. Another new nation. How troubling. The name feels more Chandrarian, but I suppose…well, a map should sort this out.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. Now, I wish for you to answer this question freely, but also honestly.”

“My spells of appraisal and identification told me nothing of your class or level when I cast them. And yet you are neither undead nor construct, and you are entirely Human. Why can I not see your class?”

“I stopped myself from leveling. You can’t see my class because I don’t have one.”

“You have no level? And you refuse to accept a class? Why? Fascinating. Are we back to this again? You don’t hail from Zeres, do you? No?”

“I don’t like being controlled. And I think—yeah, I think that classes and levels are a way for the world or some system to control people. I want no part of it. And—it feels like cheating.”

“You refused to level up out of principle. Because you think…it empowers you too much?”

“Yeah, more than other people.”

“But everyone is capable of levelling. The purest form of meritocracy, some call it. A few have considered there are benefits to doing without, but I have never met someone who denies levelling purely based on a disdain for its merits. You do not crave the power of Skills? At all?”

“Well, I think I’m doing pretty good on my own. I’m in good shape, I’m smart enough, and I’m faster than Runners with Skills—”

“Oh. You are serious. Incredible. Well, one supposes extraordinarily misguided egos do appear rarely. You have not seen what levels can do then, young woman. How very narrow your worldview is.”

“Big talk for someone who doesn’t know where America is. Or Oakland or California.”

“Young nations rising and falling is hardly something to keep note of for someone of my lifespan…”

“…As a half-Elf. Yes. Philosophical inquiry into the function of classes and levels is far more pertinent to any discussion. Although—you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? That’s a rhetorical question. Don’t answer it. Of course, you don’t know what a rhetorical question is, either. Human education being what it is—”

“You see, the rhetorical question was first invented by the Dragons. Only naturally. Of course, Elves and Dwarves adopted the practice, but it was Dragon-kind that first thought of a question that had no need for an answer. Elves were too in tune with nature; they expected answers to pop up, possibly from the rocks and trees they talked to. Dwarves on the other hand are literal creatures. If they ask you a question, they demand an answer. Humans on the other cl—hand…”

“But I forget my audience. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know what a rhetorical question is.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sure you do. Ah, I’d forgotten how Humans exaggerate and lie.”

“Would I really be that much of an idiot that I’d lie about knowing what a rhetorical question is?”

“Well of course, I would assume—”

“Ah. I see that you are marginally more intelligent than the others I have met. Very well then, perhaps you will be able to answer my next question as well.”

“I wish to know of any ongoing major wars between multiple nations, new technologies or spells developed, legendary monsters sighted or slain—import of that nature. Tell me all the news you have heard of in the past several years or so. What has transpired while I have been…secluded here?”

“Dunno.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t pay attention to world news. You probably know more about what’s going on than I do.”

“Do you at least know if Magnolia Reinhart still lives?”

“…Yes.”

“Indeed, indeed. That is good. Well then, have you heard of a strange child known as Ryoka Griffin? She is a Runner, like you, although presumably high-level in the [Runner] class, unlike you. I am told her leg is currently injured or she may have been recently healed. Do you know of her?”

“I know of a Ryoka Griffin, yes.”

“Indeed? Do you know her address, a location where she stays at night? I have tried scrying her with magic, but either the name I was given was wrong or she is protected by powerful magic.”

“Ryoka Griffin—Ryoka doesn’t have a permanent place of residence. She moves around a lot, and she doesn’t stay in one city or inn for very long if she can help it.”

“Very well, very well. I shall have to ask again for her true name, if that is the case. Although why Reinhart would have failed to extract her full name astounds me.”

“Well, as interesting as this has been, I have no further questions for you. Runner, tell me, are you one of the better Runners in your guild, despite your lack of levels?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. In that case, hear my request. You have come here seeking payment and a delivery. I will offer you your paltry sum, but you will complete my request, sparing no effort to fulfill it, either by your own hands or ones more qualified. Is that understood?”

“…Yes.”

“You will go to the area known as the Blood Fields and locate the individual known as Az’kerash. Or—perhaps he uses his former, Human name. Perril. Perril Chandler, I believe.”

“Who is this guy?”

“He is a powerful mage. A [Necromancer], to be exact. But I believe he would be most easily identifiable by appearance. His hair is pale white, as is his skin. His eyes are violet. Although—he may use illusion spells to conceal such features when moving about. You may have heard of him as the Necromancer of Terandria and that he had passed away—he has not. Hence the geas—the rest of the world thinks him dead, and I would not wish to start another continental war, possibly intercontinental, by making a mess of things.”

“I suppose the easiest way would be to go wherever the undead are most prevalent. He has an army. A fortress of the dead, to be exact. If you can make it here…well, you are the only Runner to reach even my humble abode, so I must take the chance.”

“Speak.”

“Ah. If this guy—Az’kerash is surrounded by the dead, how am I supposed to get to him without being killed?”

“Naturally, his bodyguards will attempt to slay you. No doubt they regard all living beings as a threat. You must simply make your way to him, regardless of the peril. Besides, most of the animated dead are slow and easy to outrun.”

“Yeah, but they have arrows. How am I supposed to dodge those?”

“You are a Runner, are you not? Can you not simply outrun arrows?”

“…No. I can’t outrun spells either, and I’ve seen undead mages. I won’t survive more than a few seconds if I run into a Lich by myself.”

“Confounded hair—I suppose I should have expected as much from a Human Runner. Without levels. Very well. If that is the case…”

“Why can’t you just send the package or whatever it is with magic or something? Is it too heavy to transport? Because if it is—”

“Magic is not the solution here. The one I wish to deliver a letter and small item to—he is shielded from location or communication from any form of spell, either malign or beneficial. As am I. I cannot discern his location nor speak with him save through the slowest of methods, which is why I requested a Runner. Also, it is the principle of the thing. I am not doing this out of pleasure, but obligation. Damned obligation…ahem. Thus, I will also require your return to report success.”

“I barely survived getting here. I probably won’t a second time. And if finding this [Necromancer] is as dangerous as it sounds—”

“I heard you. Be silent.”

“This is why…Humans…it cannot be helped. Hm. A Courier would have been far more preferable. But if the issue is simply a matter of survival and speed, I suppose…”

“Here. Take this as your fee for delivery. As to your fee for arriving here, albeit injured—”

“The potion is a concoction that will enhance your speed greatly. Do not drink it all at once. A single dose should suffice for any monster, undead or otherwise, that you encounter. With it, you should be able to reach Perril Chandler more or less intact. Be sure not to confuse mana potions with health potions either. Your mana poisoning was most inconvenient to deal with.”

“Was the mana poisoning bad? If so—thank you, I guess.”

“Mana poisoning? You would certainly not have died from the amount of mana you imbibed. Violent illness, fever, and uncontrollable bodily excretion would have been the worst you would have suffered over the next few days if I had left it alone.”

“Was it intentional? If you were attempting to augment your body, I must tell you it was done poorly. A minuscule increase to your diet is the only way to properly acclimatize the Human body to magic. Not that I would expect modern mages to know how to naturalize magic within themselves.”

“Regardless, do not injure yourself unnecessarily while fulfilling my task. Take this letter and this ring.”

“Do not wear the ring or you will suffer excruciatingly. The same goes for opening the letter, is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“The Bloodfields should be empty, but—just in case, and in addition to my generous remunerations, I shall present you with this wand. It is a powerful flame wand for self-defense.”

“Do not use it unless you are removed from your target. You understand? If you have no need of it on this trip—it will doubtless sell for some good coin. I trust you will do your best to survive. Retrieving my gift and message would be inconvenient.”

“Nice to know you care. I guess I should just see myself out then?”

“And waste time? No. I will expedite the first leg of your journey. Regardless of my healing, you will need several days no doubt to fully recover from the magic used and prepare for the journey ahead of you. Do not delay.”

“What—what is this?”

“A teleportation spell. Have you not—but of course, I suppose your mages are too weak for that. Now, where do you live?”

“Celum. But hey, I can run back. The potion you gave me—”

“Do not waste its effects. It is worth far more than the gold I gave you. Now, this city Celum—it is not too far from here, yes?”

“Less than a hundred miles. Not too far, yeah.”

“Celum? Celum…ah. I believe I remember the general vicinity.”

“The spell will take you to the heart of the city. Go, and carry out my request as soon as you are able.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“I suppose it would violate the basic rules of hospitality not to inquire. So tell me Runner—what is your name? I am Teriarch. Speak it not but remember it, for what it is worth.”

“Ryoka Griffin.”

“Oops. Ah, well. This is why Humans use healing potions after all.”

“Flayed scales and hoard blight!”