The Land: Catacombs (Chaos Seeds Book 4) (16 page)

My love is on my mind and my mind is on her flowing hair

I will live my days in glory so that she will know me by my fame

I will live my nights in bed though so just listen for my name!

Ohhhhh ….

Laughter spread around as more and more people joined in. 

Richter didn’t stay on the platform any longer.  He wanted to join his people.  When he got to the bottom, though, he was shanghaied by Randolphus and led through the tables.  They were all perpendicular to the podium, but there was one at the end that was parallel and sat on a raised stage.  When Richter had seen it from the podium he had assumed that it was there for serving, but now that they were closer, he saw a bench along one side and understood its purpose.  Randolphus had made a high table for him to look out over his people.

“I was planning to sit with the people.  Walk around and get to know them,” he said.

“You may, of course, do anything that you wish, milord.  I believe that spending personal time with the villagers is a wonderful idea.  I would also say, however, that if you wish to lead and command these people, they must be accustomed to you being presented as a leader.  As I said, however, the choice is, of course, yours to make.”

Richter gave his chamberlain the side eye, but then laughed and kept walking to the table.  He knew that he had just been manipulated.  It wasn’t like he could really refuse to sit at the table now without looking like a stubborn fool.  He also knew that Randolphus had done it only with the best of intentions and that the man was also probably right.  The table sat on a platform four feet off of the ground so that Richter could have an easy view of everyone and they all could have an easy view of him.   

The sounds of song still surrounded him as he walked up the three steps and stood in front of the table, looking out at the gathering.  After his people saw him, those singing gradually ceased, but those with instruments still played, just at a lower volume.  Everyone was looking to Richter, and he realized they wanted some formal start to the beginning of the meal.  He also realized Randolphus was right that the people would naturally look to him for their cues.  Not one to pass up an opportunity for showmanship, he extended his hand once again and cast
Mist Light. 
The ball of glowing grey light shot forty feet above everyone’s heads and hung suspended in the air.  Then he shouted jovially, “Let’s eat!”  Everyone cheered again.  Covers were whipped off of the food and casks of ale were tapped.  The feast had begun!

Richter sat down on the bench and Randolphus stood to the side behind him.  He looked at his chamberlain and said, “Oh, no.  If I have to sit up here being looked at, then you will be joining me.”

“It wouldn’t be proper for me to sit next to you, my lord,” Randolphus protested.

“Proper hell.  I don’t mind taking your lead, and I appreciate your advice, but we won’t be standing on pointless ceremony here.  I can’t stand useless traditions.  So sit your bony ass down and share an ale with me.”  Richter’s tone was full of laughter.

The chamberlain smiled faintly and said, “As you wish, my lord.”

“Now where is everyone else?  At the very least I want a few more people up here with me.”  He beckoned to a guard standing by the end of the table and told him to fetch Sion, Terrod, Isabella, Sumiko, and Krom.  As the guard hurried off, one of the village women walked up and told him that his special request from the cook would be ready soon.  She smiled shyly and gave an awkward curtsy when he thanked her. 

“Bring six more servings of food and drink please, my dear.  I will be having company up here.”  She curtsied again and rushed off to fulfill her lord’s command.  

Randolphus settled in next to him on the bench and said, “As long as we have this time, my lord, there are a few more things—”

“Ah!  Stop!  Good god stop!” he said quickly.  The chamberlain stopped.  Richter exhaled a sigh of relief.  Then he looked at Randolphus and decided to seize this rare quiet moment. “There actually is something that I wanted to ask you about.  That bitch Sonirae was an Assassin.  When I analyzed her, I saw that being an Assassin was a Specialization of the Rogue Profession.  How does one become a Specialist?  Do you know anything about it?”

Randolphus look at him with an inscrutable expression.  Richter looked back at him slightly confused, but then the chamberlain’s face smoothed, and he started speaking as if nothing had happened, so Richter wondered if he had imagined it. 

“Well, my lord.  As you may already know, to obtain a noncombat Profession you must reach a personal level of ten and be a journeyman in a relevant skill.  To obtain a combat Profession, you must be a personal level of twenty and also be a journeyman.  Each level that you reach after you obtain your Profession, you are allocated a certain number of Talent points.  To become a Specialist, you must reach a personal level of thirty and have saved enough points to ‘buy’ the Specialty.”

Randolphus’s answer just made a dozen more questions for Richter. “How many Talent points do you get per level?  How much does it cost to buy a Specialty?  How many specialties are there?”  The questions came rapid-fire and, for once, the chamberlain was the one who looked overwhelmed. 

“There are many factors that affect the answers to your questions, my lord.  Certain races have a predisposition to certain Professions and so obtain more Talent points per level.  Consequently, you may suffer a penalty depending on your race if you choose the wrong Profession.  That is why you don’t see many gnome Barbarians.  Humans typically have no racial predispositions or weaknesses, though this is not always the case.  Humans born on the Twins typically make better Sailors, for instance, my lord.  Also, the affinity you have for whichever skill got you into the Profession also affects how many Talent points you are given.  There are also other random factors that can affect a person’s Profession.  Humans normally get ten Talent points to distribute per level, but as all of this varies from person to person, no specific numbers have ever been recorded with any accuracy.” 

Richter nodded with resignation.  Same shit.  Nothing could ever be easy.  At least he should get a bump if Randy was right about having a high affinity.  His Limitless ability would continue to help him progress.  He held off on any more questions as several of the villagers arrived with their food and drink.  One of the main cooks was with them and was holding a plate covered by a cloth handkerchief.   

“My lord, we tried to follow your instructions as best we could.  I hope that you are pleased.”

Richter took the covered plate and
Analyzed
the woman to get her name.  “Thank you, Claren.  I’m sure it will be wonderful.”  He made a mental note to see which of his cooks was of the highest level.  He thought the idea of having a noncombatant villager accompany hunting parties was possibly high risk, but definitely high reward.  Who knew what a Professed Cook might be able to do for his people on a daily basis. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, he ripped off the cloth and sighed in contentment.  Richter had never seen such a beautiful sight.  He was so overcome with emotion that he got choked up.  In front of him lay a thick slice of fresh bread, topped with a leaf of lettuce, a slice of tomato and… a ground patty of fresh beef blessed with a thick slab of melted cheese, FOUR slices of crispy bacon and finally, another slice of bread.  A tear escaped his eye as he saw his first hamburger in months.

“Are you well, my lord?” Randolphus asked with a faint amount of concern.

Richter didn’t respond.  He just took the miracle in front of him in both hands and treated himself to a deep bite.  An explosion of wonder and spices filled his mouth.  His eyes closed in bliss, and a faint croon came from the center of his being.  The grease in the burger burned his tongue ever so slightly, and the smokiness of the bacon perfectly balanced the sharpness of the cheese.  A smile graced his face, giving him a chipmunk appearance as his cheeks were still stuffed from the large bite. 

Sion walked up just as Richter swallowed the first bite and asked the same question Randolphus had.  The Lord of the Mist Village simply said, “They should have sent a poet.”

Everyone else that Richter had requested came to grace the high table.  As the hundreds of villagers enjoyed good food and better comradery, so too did Richter’s friends and confidants.  He sat back and savored every single bite of his burger, one of the things he had missed most from Earth.  True there was no ketchup yet, but Richter resolved to fight one battle at a time. 

After he was done eating, he left the table and walked around amongst the villagers.  Terrod insisted upon accompanying him, citing that more than half of the people present were new to the village.  After his encounter with Sonirae, Richter didn’t argue.  Randolphus came as well.  Richter spent the next hour or so just walking among his people, shaking hands, sharing laughs, and listening to their compliments and complaints.  Many people were deeply invested in their food or ongoing conversations, so they simply smiled and bowed their heads as their liege passed.  Many others were well on their way to being deep in their cups, so they didn’t even realize he was walking by.  Richter was happy to see his people enjoying themselves.  More than that, he felt… fulfilled.  He had made a home that he could be proud of and proud he was.

As great as walking around was, Richter realized he needed to give his speech quickly if he wanted people to still be coherent.  Already loud shouting was coming from a group of dwarves, and a bit of shoving had broken out between two humans apparently vying for the affection of a young wood elf lass.  Richter spoke to Randolphus, who nodded and began leading the way back to the raised stage at the end of the picnic tables.  He sent Futen to ask Sion and the others to join him. 

Richter climbed the stairs and looked out over the festivities.  Laughter abounded, and many of the children seemed to be playing a game of tag whose rules shifted from moment to moment.  People began to notice him on the stage and started chanting his name.  The call was picked up by others, and soon the feast resounded with “Lord Richter!  Lord Richter!  Lord Richter!”

He raised his arms first in happy reception of the chant but then turned his palms downward to quiet his people.  Soon silence reigned, and the people waited to hear what their lord had to say. 

“I hope you are all having a good time!”  Cheers broke out again, and Richter had to wait for them to die down. 

“As I said before, this feast is a celebration of the accomplishments of those who have been here.  It is also a welcome to those who are new here.  There is a third reason, however.  When many of us got off of the boats from Yves, this village was barely discernable from unbroken wilderness.  It was raw material, and so were we.  Times are changing now.  We have made this place into the beginnings of a village. We have made ourselves into the beginnings of a community.”  Many of the first-wave villagers were nodding and sharing looks of pride.  Most of the new people were just looking a bit uneasy, unsure as to where this was going.  They were used to leaders taking whatever they wished, whenever they wanted.  Richter was still an unknown to them, and they feared for their futures.

“Things are changing,” he repeated.  “We are getting larger and stronger, but that means others are taking notice of us.  We have been attacked and suffered losses.  I have been attacked personally by agents of Ronin, the head of the Night Blades.”  Many of the villagers shouted out, some in anger and some in dismay.  They all knew of the bloody underworld leader.  They had all heard of Richter’s raid on Ronin’s base and his freeing of the nonhumans, most of whom were now villagers. 

Behind him a woman called his name.  Richter turned his head and saw Isabella looking back at him with determination on her face.  Gone was the wounded creature who had hidden beneath the branches of the Quickening for weeks.  Who he saw now was a woman who had chosen to stand and face both her past and future head-on.

“May I speak, my lord?” she asked.  Richter nodded and stepped back.  She took the center stage.

“I have already told my story to those who came here before, but for those of you who are new, I will tell you what our lord has done for us.  What he has done for me!  Lord Richter fought the Night Blades in their very base of power to save many of us.  After he had already saved so many, he infiltrated the home of Count Stonuk to find me.  Still he wasn’t done, though.  To bring me to safety he fought through an ambush of the Night Blades.  An ambush that claimed the life of my husband’s long-time friend, Jeremy.”  Richter looked over at Terrod, but the man just stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.

Isabella continued speaking with intense emotion. “Since that time we have suffered an unprovoked attack by the bugbears.  How many of you did Lord Richter save?  How many of you fought next to him side by side as he worked to defend our people?  Who stood with him as he comforted the families of the lost afterward?” 

Shouts of “Me!” “I fought with the lord!” “We showed those bugbears they should never have come!” rung out from the crowd.  The villagers were getting fired up.  Isabella still wasn’t done, though.  “And he saved my love!  When those horrible people took Terrod away, our lord immediately chased after those people and SINGLE HANDEDLY slew them both and rescued his Companion.  That is the type of person that our lord is.  He is someone who has given me power of my own!”

She extended her hand and cast
Slow Heal I. 
There was no target to her spell, but the gold glow surrounded her hand, bright enough to be seen despite the torches and mist light.  The villagers exclaimed loudly.  “This very day, Lord Richter gave me the power to heal.  He is someone we can trust.  He is someone we can put our faith in.  He is someone that I pledge my fealty to!”