Born a Monster

193 Servant of the Axe, 93 – Penalty for Victory

Chapter Type: Character Development, Minor Social

There was no funeral for Puffball. Her mother had dealt with her body and said only that it was an affair for the Fenris, and that I could not participate. In any event, it was done.

I did have to endure the funeral pyres for the Findseth family.

“So who rules now?” Madonna asked.

“Donna, we’re at a funeral.” Kismet said.

I shrugged. “Ask at the feasting, later.”

The Lady Ingrid didn’t wait until the feasting. “My household is on the verge of ruination, because of your beast friend.”

I blame a different beast for that, I almost said.

“If you have come to even attempt to force my group back into slavery...”

.....

She raised her hand, her features pinched. “Who protected your women from the worst of such a lot? Who kept you alive when you had the intellect of a dandelion? Whatever you THINK happened in my household, you owe me for keeping it from being so. Much. Worse.”

“Sounds like an enemy to me.” Black Madonna sounded chipper.

“Madonna, the woman’s just lost her first husband. Let’s go be RESPECTFUL of the FUNERAL over here.” Kismet said, threading her arm into Madonna’s.

“But... no... I... Oh, I like how you do that with the claws. Tell me, is that instinctual, or do you fully control it?”

I turned my head back to Lady Findseth. “What do you WANT?” I asked.

“How do you do that without breaking the bones in your neck?”

I shrugged. “My neck’s always been flexible like that.”

Her lips curled back from her teeth. “My husband offered your beast peace, once.”

“MY beast? I didn’t bring her to this island. Nor did I go back on your husband’s word even before I could offer it to the Fenris.”

Oh, crap! Did she notice?

“My husband,” she said, “had his flaws. “But he was also merciful and just. There were good parts to him, as well.”

Merciful? I guess I’d ask Igrun Sivert about how she felt about his mercy later. Or not.

“Your husband... no, let’s not argue about that, not here and now. What do you WANT, Lady Findseth?”

She reacted as though I had slapped her. “There has been enough death. What is the cost of peace?”

“At a guess? Stop hunting the Fenris. Your people don’t USE the northern part of the island. Just leave it alone. But if you truly wish it, I’ll ask.”

“Do so. THAT is what I ASK of you. What I DEMAND is get off this island, and never return.”

“Oh, are you the new jarl, then?”

“Closer than you or any of your allies are. Whatever chaos you came here to wreak, it is wrought. What else do you plan to take from me?”

It was my turn to bare my teeth. “We came here and were attacked. Your people...”

Your people deserve everything that’s happened to them, I had tried to say. Stupid Truthspeaker Oath.

I sighed. “I will bear your request to the Fenris. Have you anything to say to the clansfolk?”

“Igrun Sivert shall bear my message to them.”

“About the daughters of houses disgraced by your husband?”

“Yes? You have something to say about that?”

“It would not be a bad thing to see them restored, such as they could be.”

She tilted her head back. “I will keep my own council as to how much freedom any branded slave is to have.”

[Objective failed: Restore social status to Igrun Sivert. No award when quest is completed.]

[Quest completed: 60 quest points awarded. After divisor, 3 development points have been awarded.]

[First Tier Rewards unlocked for Servant of the Divine. 112/300 quest points to Second Tier.]

I looked down at my feet, dismissed the messages, and then back up. I brought my right fist, the first I’d lost on this island, to my chest. “I will bear your message after the feast tonight, and an answer back as soon as I have one.”

“I would have you leave immediately.”

“The Norvik people owe me at least a meal.” I said.

She sniffed, but said, “Very well. Eat what you’re going to eat, and begone.”

I’m told everyone grieves in their own way. In my more charitable moments, I try to think maybe Lady Ingrid was trying to maintain her husband’s legacy, perhaps to honor him. In less charitable moments... but that does not affect this point of the story.

The town rolled the jarl’s feast into one they’d prepared for the casualties of the revolt. Being prepared for my appetite, they plied me with vegetables boiled in broth, and breads with seeds and berries baked into them, and potato wedges dripping with butter or boiled fat. There were ground meats and spices wrapped in leaves of mint, and pretzels with an unhealthy amount of salt stuck to them with a honey glaze.

I considered getting some of the evolutions that went with alcohol, but save for the mandatory cup of mead to help toast the fallen on their way to Valhalla, I stuck with teas and a very strong coffee. There was porridge made from ground maize, and hard and soft cheeses, crackers and toast and soups and salads.

And none of them stacked with the others, save only in my physical stomach, which rapidly filled up.

[Omnivore Level 4, 960/960 biomass reached. Focus here to advance to level 5.]

[Fingerprints Evolution queued...]

[Mane of Hair Evolution queued...]

[Improved Foot Arches Evolution queued...]

[Second Level Eyeballs Evolution queued...]

There, that ought to take care of that. And, hopefully, my aching feet after a day of walking. I had no immediate plans for fingerprints or hair, but they were required for something I’d noticed, and wanted to unlock.

I’d been looking at my Goblin Transformation for a while. And Kismet was right, transforming into a giant spider wasn’t going to help me, either. Human Transformation, though...

But that was a while off, and the feast completed...

“Nope.” Kismet said.

“Go do what you must, we’re staying here in town. Perhaps in someone’s unlocked stable, but we’re staying here.” Black Madonna said. “We’ve had enough of adventure for now. And... how much spa time are we owed?”

“Twenty-one days.” Kismet said, leaning back and sighing as though she was already there.

“Gamilla has those funds. Do either of you have a quick way to reach her?”

They stared silently at me.

“I’ll take that as a no, then. If I’m not back by tomorrow, see if there’s a vessel headed to Neo Leonen that we can book passage on, perhaps work our way.”

Kismet reached out, gripped Madonna’s hand. “He’s flipped over to madness.”

Madonna grinned. “You’ve decided what you want.”

“I know what it’s going to take to get there.” I said. “And that means that Gamilla and I need to have a chat.”

“Just a chat?” Kismet asked.

“That depends on her.” I said. “If our time on this island has taught me anything, it’s to at least listen to people before trying to kill them.”

“What? No! That’s the wrong lesson.”

“Shut up, Donna.” Then, in a voice that genuinely sounded tired, “Let’s find out where we’re sleeping tonight.”

I gave the both of them a hug, to the surprise (and eventual acceptance) of both of them. And then I was off to the north.

I did a Systems query, and learned that there was a Tireless Servant ability in the Quest advantages, which allowed me to miss one night of sleep (but only if I was on a quest) for sixty quest points. Whatever, I had earned those points, and the idea of NOT being tired after a night of sleep...

[Each use of this power per quest costs 10 quest points. Focus here to...]

[One Use Per Quest purchased.]

I dragged the header from the quest to stop people hunting Blackfur onto the Tireless Servant, and immediately felt invigorated. At least it wasn’t limited to holy quests.

There was no sign that she’d moved back into the cave once owned by bears, so I set about searching the woods. Although the southern part was devastated by repeated hunting parties, as the brush became more forbidding, the expected ecosystems returned also. There were even a pack of what appeared to be normal wolves, but they didn’t bother me, so I didn’t bother them.

It was almost peaceful, walking blind through the woods, guided by breeze and scent and sound. It was also a reminder that I had a number of locked evolutions that would have made navigating the deep woods so much easier.

I sent.

A cold wet nose pushed itself into the back of my neck, and exhaled to make a rude noise.

I turned to regard her.

A flap of her skin, if you can call something the size of a child hanging loose a flap, was loose.

I said.

I had to wash it and press in a mixture of lavender and sage, and even then..

.....

I knew it was hopeless. I knew that, but I treated the wound, sewed it closed, even knowing from the smell of rot that most of that flesh was already lost to her.

I then infused it with a point of Life mana. I really needed to learn healing magic. And, given that the most basic and limited of those spells was some sixty development points, I’d probably be learning the hard way.

Blackfur snarled, squinted.

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