Chương 14: GB - Chapter 14: The Town Wakes

Luke had several questions, but the one that came out first was, "How long do I have before they arrive?" The priestess pursed her lips.

"Well, the order is coming from Woundmere, and that can take up to twenty days if going casually and unmounted. But they will probably be in haste, so far less than that." Fuck me, Luke thought as a tingling sensation went down his spine. I've got a group of…actually, I don't know what they worship.

"What Power—sorry, what god do they worship?"

"The Radiant Tribunal, the three-in-one representation of The Dawn Judge." She squinted at him.

"You aren't from around here, are you?"

"No," Luke replied, not sure if she had heard Garran's theory about Luke being one of the other-worlders or not.

"I am not from this region." She walked forward, closing the distance between them, though he sensed her trepidation in the approach, evidenced by her shuffling steps.

"I…my goddess entrusted me with a secret about your origin…Luke." She seemed to struggle saying his name, as if giving name to an Undead Creature like him was a grave sin.

"The Dawn Judge is the neutral and core version of the might of Holy Power. The Radiant Tribunal is the Lawful interpretation, and the three of that tribunal, whose names none but their devotees are allowed to know, represent different aspects of holy law, whose interests are served through three organizations."

"Let me guess," Luke said.

"You've got something like judges, then law enforcement, and finally an execution squadron?" She blinked a few times.

"That…you are rather insightful."

"Which one is the Dawnbringer?"

"The law enforcement church, as you put it." She took a few steps forward, so that she was within arm's reach.

"My goddess told me you didn't ask for this, and you have shown yourself to have a good heart. I… the least I can do is make sure you aren't executed for just being an Undead." Luke crossed his arms and thought, If police in this world are anything like the ones I worked with, then they won't be convinced by evidence and data without someone at the top benefiting in some way. I have to convince them that my plan, my existence, is a net-benefit that gives them something.

He had an idea how to go about that conversation when the time came. But, he just nodded in the moment. Still, he felt a trace of anger. It wasn't as strong of a response as it should have been, and he attributed it to his dulled emotions. But, he still wanted to make it known.

"You betrayed me."

"I said I was so—" Luke cut her off.

"Not good enough. You sicced a holy order on me because I'm Undead. Without even getting to know me. I went out of my way to help you and yours…and this is how I'm repaid? With an execution squad?" The woman seemed to stumble over her words in embarrassment and shame.

"I didn't mean—I didn't want—""Save it," Luke said, cutting her off once more.

"You can make up for it by making sure they don't kill me. Got it?"

"I…that is agreeable."

"Lead the way to the mayor, then." Melkin gestured for him to open the door, Luke did so, and the two departed. She wrinkled her nose as she passed by, and Luke realized he should probably bathe—he'd been in that fort for God-knows how long, and he probably smelled horrid from the Fog Creepers. The duo walked through the city in the soft, evening sun. Luke had to squint, but the rays didn't harm him in any way.

He was thankful for that: if he had to be restricted to dark places like some Undead in fiction, he would've been very aggrieved. He supposed he had The Last Warden to thank, in a way, and muttered a silent, "Thank you," to the deity. People of all ages and stripes looked at him as he passed, and the reactions were mixed. Some dipped their heads in appreciation, as word of his deed with either saving Garran, rescuing Thorm, or keeping Amara alive had to have spread.

Others looked at him with suspicion, as if saying, 'Don't do anything or else we're going to destroy you.' But in any event he was not accosted, and followed the hasty steps of the priestess. They arrived at the wooden abode of the mayor, and she knocked fervently, before stepping back and waiting. After a minute, the door opened, and the mayor, Travis, looked out at the two. He cracked a broad grin and said, "Melkin, is Amara all bandaged up?" She let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes, Blooming Hand, yes. The Captain will pull through. But we have something more important to discuss…and I have something to confess." The mayor looked past her at Luke.

"Did she do something to you?"

"It's in the works," Luke replied. Melkin shared what she had done, explaining—much to Luke's mix of elation for knowledge and detestation for the deed—how she lit a contact candle, and the Dawnbringers were on their way. That explains all the candles with the tags, he thought. Different religious orders have emergency contact methods. The mayor grimaced.

"Fucking damnit." He put a hand on his face and sighed as he dragged it down and let it drop.

"Alright. Well, what's the plan? Aside from lauding Luke's good works." Melkin nodded.

"I need to atone. We have no more than ten days before the arrival. Probably far less."

"More importantly," Luke added, "Is that I know these guys are law enforcement. What law, exactly, would they be enforcing?" Melkin looked back at him.

"Undead are considered anathema and often lumped in with monsters. Undead are supposed to be killed on sight." Great, Luke thought. So not only am I in the body of one of their captains, but I'm also going to be killed just for existing. Fucking great.

"But," Melkin continued, "You don't look like any Undead I've ever seen. And your actions speak louder than your appearance." She looked back at the Mayor.

"I think the best route is to let Luke stay here for the days until the arrival." She sighed.

"I must atone. So, in the meantime, you and I, and Amara if she feels up to it, go around town to convince people—""Ahead of you on that front," Travis said as he grinned.

"Garran has already been telling his tale in the tavern. Some of the guards who went along, also, to rescue Thorm. But yes, you and I can join the effort in this endeavor." He looked up at Luke.

"And don't get me wrong, I appreciate what you've done for us, but part of my reason for this altruism is that the fort being re-manned, by a populace who won't need to eat, no less, would keep so many people safe." Luke grinned at that.

"I'm happy we see the benefit of helping one another. And I understand you have your own reasons for your altruism, just as I have my own." Melkin eyed him suspiciously for a half-second, then looked back to the mayor.

"I think we should have Luke here get cleaned up, and get him some clothes and armor that don't make him look worse. Right now…the image of a broken Dawnbringer risen from the grave is a bit much."

"Point taken." Travis looked at Luke.

"Give me a few moments, and we'll get you set up in one of the houses. We've always got spare—lots going up all the time. Later, perhaps tomorrow, I'll introduce you to the smithy. The least I can do is get you equipped to look civilized, to match your actions." Everything I was hoping for and more, Luke thought. Luke was set up in one of the simple cabins, and given the means to take a hot bath.

As he sank into the water and watched the moon rise through the paned window, he relished the sensation of heat permeating him. Not the internal heat of the mana surging in his body, or Pale Flame coursing through him to heal his wounds. No, he felt actual warmth. One of his gravest concerns, about sensation, seemed to be somewhat alleviated. Well, one aspect of the concerns, at least. Sighing with relief, he scrubbed down, wiping away plenty of muck, grime, blood, and viscera.

He had to empty the tub and refill it a few times, which took a good chunk of time, given he was using a cauldron to heat the water over the hearth, but he had plenty of time to think and study. He was also able to get a journal, so that he could write down notes. First note to self, he thought as he began scribbling, I need to condense down all of my new information about the world.

Between his bathing, which would take many rounds, probably well into the night, he transcribed all he had learned thus far, omitting any information about his Class, Arts, and Aspects. He still wanted to keep it private. But everything else? It got copied down. He was able to convince the mayor to part with a simple calendar so that he could learn a bit more about the world that was going to be his home. The year was a ten-month cycle, with ten days each week, and forty days in a month.

It explained why they referenced things the way they did. There were two months of winter, spring, and fall, but four months of summer. He also learned the current date: the 3rd Cinday of Myrren, 1552 P. E. F. which stood for 'Post-Empire Founding'. Effectively, thirty-three days into the second of four months of summer. As he dumped out the sixth tub of water, which ran down a carved ditch that functioned as a water drain that ran through the town and into a cistern buried below, he spied Captain Amara.

She was walking towards him, and she balked as they made eye contact. He kept his gaze locked on her, and she came closer.

"Uhm…hello."

"Hi there," Luke replied. He had a towel on, and sandals, and he put the wooden tub which was really like a giant bucket on the slightly-raised porch.

"Can I help you?" She stepped onto the porch and sank onto the simple bench next to the door, leaning forward, arms on knees and hands clasped together.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you." Luke shrugged.

"Apology accepted." She seemed startled at that, and looked up at him.

"You…really?" Luke grabbed the tub.

"Walk and talk? I need to refill this thing from the lake." She stood up and followed him, and said, "Why would you forgive me so quickly?"

"I'm a stranger that showed up and looked like your dead lover," Luke replied. He heard her stop walking behind him, and turned to see the pale look on her face.

"I am sorry for that. I didn't have control over who I inhabited. But, I can promise you, whoever he was, he is gone. It's just me, now." He frowned.

"Still, no need to shoot me at the start when I first arrived. That was still an asshole move." She nodded and kept walking, which prompted him to resume his moonlit trek to the lake. There were a few scattered lanterns, hanging from wooden posts, which Luke didn't need to see by. But, he tried to keep to them, to appear more normal, and make Amara's job of following him easier.

"Let me ask you something," Luke said after minutes of silence and reaching the lake edge.

"The former occupant, William, was a Captain of the Dawnbringers?"

"That's right," Amara replied.

"What was he like?" Luke asked as he pushed the huge bucket-tub under the water to fill to the brim. Then, he grabbed the rope handles and began to carry the sloshing bucket back towards his temporary housing.

"He was commanding," she softly said.

"Strong, but gentle. He only shared my bed for a few weeks while the group stocked up on supplies and helped protect the town during repairs from a Fog Creeper attack. Once the defenses were up, his group went to Greywatch Fort."

"Sorry for being blunt, but back on focus," Luke said. He wanted the information about the person's body, and she was going off track.

"Tell me more about him. Not what he did, but how he acted." Amara's voice hardened as she seemed to pick up on his intentions.

"You are going to try and be him?"

"If it helps me get along with the coming military force? Yes. I am not above subterfuge to make sure I live. But, I am not trying to be him forever."

"Fuck that, and fuck you," she coldly replied.

"You can't ever be him." Well, worth a try, Luke thought. I guess this woman is just a callous bitch through and through. Despite saving her life and risking my neck for hers, she still acts like this? Luke just shrugged, as if it didn't bother him.

"Well, thanks for nothing. Are we done? I'd love to finish out getting nice and clean." He slid the sandals off on the porch, went inside, and dumped the water into the large cauldron before stoking the fire beneath.

"We're not done," Amara replied from behind him, having entered. Luke stood up and turned to face her. She had a sorrowful look.

"Alright. What is it, then?"

"This…I just came to say goodbye—to William, not you. I didn't even know he had died at the fort. So…let me have a quiet moment just saying goodbye." Luke crossed his arms.

"So you just want me to stand here, quietly?"

"Yes…please." Luke nodded, and gestured for her to proceed. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. She cleared her throat, reached into her belt pouch, and grabbed a slip of paper.

"William, you made me feel loved, and kept the assholes away just by being around me." Her voice cracked a bit, and she continued through the break.

"Even though we only spent a few weeks together, if you had asked, I would've been yours. I lament your passing, and wish we could be together for longer." She began sobbing.

"May your god receive your soul and find your actions worth rewarding." She crumpled the paper, walked toward Luke, and tossed it into the fire behind him.

"Do you need a hug?" Luke asked, feeling some genuine sorrow for the woman. It was muted though, and almost like a passing thought that was more based on instinct rather than authentic sympathy. Like saying 'bless you' to someone who sneezed. Amara looked at him with tear-filled eyes, shook her head, and said, "No. Not from you." She turned to the door and began to leave, but stopped and looked back.

"I'll do what the mayor asked me, and tell the truth about what happened—that's all I'm doing to pay you back for saving me." Luke wanted to call her an ungrateful bitch, but instead he just nodded curtly.

"Have a good night, or however long is left in it." Amara left, and Luke went to the door, locked it, and waited for the water to boil. The next day the mayor was at Luke's door at first light.

"Ah, there's the man," he said with a grin.

"I have a few stops for you and I to make today. First off, mind leaving the old armor in this?" he held up a burlap sack. Luke went and retrieved the gear, then tossed it in. He had already put on a shirt, pants, and simple boots that would be good for walking around town but nowhere near sturdy enough for the road.

"Where to?"

"The smithy, first." Luke was led across the town, away from all the residences. The square-shaped location, with one side sort of cut into a crescent for the lake and access to its deep, bountiful waters, was set up so that the places of industry, processing, and refining were all condensed down, and kept separate from where people lived. Luke learned why quickly enough. Even with his senses dulled, he could smell the piss and reek of tanning leather.

The cloying scent of soot wafted through the air, and he would've sneezed if he had the reflex to do so. They reached the smithy, which was outdoor and just under a broad overhang next to a carpentry shop. Makes enough sense, Luke thought. Arrowheads go to the carpenter, who probably also fletches, and the smith needs wooden grips for some weapons. Smart city planning, as long as possible fires are prevented.

Mayor Travis waved at a tall woman, who was muscular, with red hair that was equally as fiery as the forge she was working at. Next to the woman, who returned the wave, was a teenager that could have easily passed for an adult linebacker in the NFL, as he was huge. Not quite as tall as Luke in his new body, but close to it, and far bulkier.

"Greetings, Yesna," Travis said.

"Fine day for smith—" The woman spat to her left.

"Tell me what you want, Travis." Travis chuckled and slapped Luke on the shoulder.

"This is Luke. He's the Undead who saved Captain Amara, Garran, and helped rescue Thorm." The woman cracked a little grin at that, but—who Eric presumed was her son given the similar hair—glared at him with a scowl. Yesna said, "Ah, well, thanks for saving my cousin."

"You're related to her?" Luke asked.

"Oh yeah. Twice removed, but still family." Yesna nodded her head.

"This is my son, Bortis."

"Pleased to meet you," Luke said. The young man just looked at his mother and said, "Mind me going to fetch damaged tools?" He then looked at Luke with that glare once more.

"I don't want to be near…that thing." Luke bristled and thought, That thing has a name, you little bastard.

"Sure, sweetie." The woman patted him on the back, and the young man walked past Luke, specifically turning to shoulder-check him, which Luke allowed.

"Sorry about that," she said.

"He lost his father to some Undead when he was a young boy during the move here."

"Sorry to hear that," Luke said. The mayor, seemingly relieved to have the apprentice smith gone, said, "Yesna, we have some old gear to smelt down. Then, I want you to outfit Luke here. Armor, weapons, whatever he needs."

"Who is paying?" Yesna asked with a tight-lipped, customer-service, forced smile.

"I am, of course," Travis replied. Yesna nodded and grabbed a rope with knots along it, presumably for measuring, and some charcoal.

"Right then. First, let's get your dimensions." Luke put the sack of old gear down with a clatter, and she measured him up. He finally got some stats for his height, coming in at six-foot-two. That put a bit of bounce in his step, as he had been a 'short king' in his other life. She also wrapped the cord around his legs, midsection, and torso.

"Well, you're definitely on the leaner side," she muttered.

"But your muscle density is pretty high. I doubt you can put on muscle, but I don't know how Undead work."

"I don't think I'll ever get bigger biceps, if that's what you mean," Luke replied with a small smile. The mayor said, "I'll be back in an hour to take us to visit the next person. Take care of him, Yesna."

"Will do," the woman replied.

"Now then, Luke, was it? Is there a preference to how you like being armored?" Luke eyed the spare chainmail hung up around him, then grabbed the burlap sack and fished around inside until he found the breastplate, which was torn and tattered to bits.

"I think I like this style."

"Scale?" She cracked a grin.

"Excellent. That's easy to work with. I'll use some of my chainmail and make the underlayer, integrate it with the gambeson for easy removal, and then the scale mail coat over the top of everything. Should give you good Blunt, Pierce, and Slash resistance." Luke paused at that, because for some reason, the way she emphasized those three words and types of damage gave him cause to do so.

"I presume scale for Blunt and Pierce, and chain for Slash?"

"Correct," she replied with a smile.

"I don't have any Essence Shards for those three Power Types, but by The Furnace Crown, I can at least give you every bit of defense possible." Must be a deity, Luke thought. And it's also good to know that those types of damage inflicted by weapons are considered Power Types.

"Maybe you can explain why no one wears helmets around here." She chuckled.

"Wow, you must've had your skull knocked about something fierce."

"Something like that."

"Well, gods can't talk to you with a bunch of metal in the way, now can they?" Luke thought that was absolutely idiotic. What, some hunk of metal can stop divine words from reaching a person? What type of fucked up— She let out a barking laugh as obviously some part of Luke's thoughts crossed his face.

"I'm joking!" She tapped the back of his head.

"Can't do magic with a helmet on. Only the most heavily armored, tough sons of bitches who don't use any magic decide to go with helmets." Ah, so it is exactly as I anticipated, guessed, and tested with that bit of brain dissection and the bucket, he thought. Good. Seems like most of the rules of this world can be intuited out with some rational thought. He reached into his hip pouch and jostled the Shards he did have.

"I have some Essence Shards. Any chance we can use them?" She grinned and held her hand out. When she had the pouch in hand, she upended it onto a bench and quickly sorted them.

"Hmm. 34 T1 Life, 9 T1 sub-Life, and 3 T3 Death." She put her hand on the sub-Life shards, and Luke saw a brilliant, ruby red flare, and when she pulled her hand away, five of the sub-shards were missing, and in its place was one of the full-sized Life shards.

"There." Five to one conversion, Luke thought. And I'd guess that since she didn't merge and upscale the thirty-four others, they're stuck at Tier 1. She frowned as she picked up one of the Death Shards.

"Where'd you get this from?"

"A corpse I raised and used to protect Garran," Luke replied.

"Ah. Neat. You can make Shards…" She trailed off at the words left her mouth, then looked at him with shock.

"Wait, what? You can make Shards?"

"Well it requires the body and then it turns to sludge—" She slapped the Death Shard down and a glimmer of greed flickered in her eye.

"If I get you a ton of corpses, can you raise them up, and then let them die again? They're just bodies, right?"

"Sure…if people agreed to it. But don't you leave your dead at the forest's edge?"

"Most, not all," she replied, crossing her arms.

"But, you might want to keep this to yourself. And me, of course." I can see why, Luke thought. I am literally able to create monsters which can be harvested for Shards, and these things are apparently quite useful. I am an economic threat if this gets out, but it also depends on what the Shards are good for.

"So," he said, leaning forward on the workbench and grabbing a Life Shard. It buzzed in his palm like an angry fly, tingling against his skin.

"What can we do with these?"

"Well, the Core Shards," she grabbed one of the Death ones, "We need one per every five-square-inches of material." She looked over her measurements which had been jotted with the charcoal on the tabletop.

"I can put them into the chain, gambeson, or scale, but not all three. Full coverage with the Life Shards." She then looked at the sub-Life Shards.

"I'd love to just take those off your hands for other projects."

"Only if I get a sword," Luke replied.

"Deal. What's your style?"

"I think you call it hand-and-a-half?"

"Easy enough." She grabbed the Death Shards.

"I can use these for one full side of the blade, or just the top, middle, or bottom of both sides of the blade."

"Can they be applied later?"

"Sure." Luke gestured for those ones back, and he put them into the pouch.

"We'll hold off on the Death Shards for now."

"Excellent. So, Life Shards—""What will they do?" Luke asked. He grabbed his journal from his back pocket and the grease pencil which was with it.

"Well…It just infuses the equipment."

"Which does what exactly?" She scratched her head.

"Well, let me give you an example. A Caustic Shard applied to a dagger will make it burn things with acid when it hits. Armor would take hits from Caustic-based magic or aspected weapons—or monster strikes—as well." Flat damage increase of elemental type, and then defenses against those same types, Luke thought and jotted down.

"What else?" Luke asked.

"Surely it's not just outgoing injury type-change and incoming damage type-negation."

"That's the basics of it. Some of the skilled masters can do other things with higher Tier Shards." She tapped the table.

"Not these, though." Got it, Luke thought. Low Tier is limited in application, high Tier is going to be able to do other things.

"Perfect," Luke said as he put the items away.

"So then I think the Life Shards on the scale coat is the best bet."

"It will make the color some type of green," Yesna said.

"Any particular favorite shades?"

"Are any associated with deities or would flag me as part of some organization?" She squinted and looked up as if deep in thought.

"Not that I can think of."

"Then a deep, forest green will work for our current environment."

"Understood. Now, let's measure your arms for the sword length, and hands for the grip. One benefit of your body not changing, if that's how it works, is that I can write down the dimensions and you'll never need to be measured again." After an hour, the mayor returned, and Luke bid his farewell. They made two more stops. One was to a woodcarver, an older man who looked like he was retired, with grandkids he was watching while whittling a project.

The kids were playing with sticks like they were fighting with weapons, and as Luke and the mayor approached, they looked over and went wide-eyed. But, they didn't react with fear. One of them, who had to be just about six or seven, asked, "Why are your eyes glowing blue?" Luke couldn't help but smile at the childhood innocence and bluntness.

"I don't know." The other child, who had to be around the same age if a little older, whispered, "You're the corpse-man that mummy talked about?"

"Probably," Luke replied.

"I think I'm the only one around here."

"Whoa," the younger one said. Travis chuckled, and addressed the old man who had paused his whittling to watch the interaction.

"Marvin, how are you doing?" The old man grumbled back, "I'd be better if you didn't bring some walking corpse to my door!" Luke ignored the insult as he had been hearing them lobbed at him all day. Travis continued.

"I need you to carve him a mask." The old man frowned, but then nodded.

"If it means I don't have to see his face? Sure. What kind?" Immediately, an image flashed in Luke's mind, and he grabbed his journal and grease pencil and began sketching.

"Something like this," he said as he ripped the page out from the glue binding and handed it to the man. It was inspired by simplistic masks that he sometimes saw in anime, shaped like a wolf's head. I wonder if it'll interfere with Art use? He thought. I mean, I can always just make sure that the strap is easy to move so that the whole thing falls down around my neck. Marvin looked at it, squinted, then looked up at him perplexed.

"Not sure what it is, but it seems easy enough." He grunted as he stood up.

"I got a shitty piece of scratch wood I can use that matches the design."

"Thanks," Travis said. Luke dipped his head in a bow as the old man vanished into his house. He then looked at the kids, who were still looking at him and the mayor.

"Practice with those swords," Luke said.

"Those Fog Creepers are nasty beasts." The younger of the two puffed up his chest.

"I'm going to join the guard when I'm older!" The older of the two frowned.

"That sounds scary."

"They are," Luke replied.

"There's nothing wrong with doing something else though." The second stop after the woodcarver was a storehouse, with neatly-maintained and orderly rows of backpacks made from loops of leather stitched to a central container. Some type of wood had been put in and pasted in place to make a hard-lined interior, and a lid with a latch made it into a sturdy carrying device. Luke was given a filled one by the person managing the storehouse, but said, "We can take out the food and water. I don't need that."

The man shrugged, took that stuff out, and then handed the bag back to Luke.

"Got three changes of clothes."

"Thanks," Luke said as he hiked the bag onto his shoulder. He looked at Travis.

"What next?"

"I would put that stuff back in your temporary housing," Travis replied.

"Then, just spend some time around town. Show people you're not some scary monster, that you're just a man in unusual circumstances." Smart, Luke thought.

"Any starting points? I know you mentioned a tavern."

"Ah, sure." Travis reached into his belt pouch and handed Luke some copper coins. They were uniform in size, about the tip of Luke's pinky finger, pounded flat discs. He then grimaced.

"Uhm…you don't need to drink or eat. Can you?"

"I'd love to see if I can still get drunk," Luke replied.

"I guess tonight we'll find out." Travis grinned and chuckled.

"Alright then. I'll show you where it is. I'm curious to see if an Undead can get drunk. But, I have business to attend to once I guide you." The duo quickly returned to Luke's residence, and he stowed everything except the coins in a lockable cabinet. He pocketed the key and coins, and then they headed to a now-brightly-lit tavern that echoed with raucous laughter of a long-day's work ending. I really hope I can savor beer, Luke thought as he opened the doors.