Chương 120: The Seed Cast Among Thorns

I wondered if someone had been watching everything unfold inside the inn, secretly recording everything I did. I hadn't spotted anyone taking notes, but then again I wasn't really looking for something like that either. I was too busy not dying… and talking. It was also possible that the whole cat incident had thrown off their plans. If it hadn't been for that quest and runestone reward I probably would have gone straight for the dungeon.

After clearing out a whole dungeon I might have been too exhausted to take on Bogumir's squad. Which meant Pieruś and his chaos seed kind of saved me in a way? Maybe I'd been too harsh on him. I mean, he was still a dick, but without him I'd have been in a far worse position. Giving their own people banned classes also seemed like a thing the Church would do. Kasia's theory made sense to me, even if it wasn't Stvora specifically who was handing them the classes.

It was possible they'd found a way to get their people certain skills or classes. I considered that for a moment. Even if they didn't have a way to give people certain classes, they could still augment their abilities through runewords. They probably had hundreds of variations, stuff most people couldn't even dream of. Even my build was heavily modified through the gear I was wearing. If they could somehow give someone a class and matching runewords… That would be bad. Especially if it were multiple someones.

"Uh, Bogumir?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can the Church give people classes?"

"No. Only Stvora can provide classes."

"But could they ask Stvora to provide certain people with certain classes?"

"Of course. That's how most inquisitors who start as scriptors get their classes. First they learn how we operate, how inquisitors work by joining Purge Squads. This is non-negotiable. They need to see what the Church is up against. They prove their loyalty. They need to show they have what it takes. After the scriptor passes their assessment he will typically have a talk with the local bishop and head inquisitor and discuss his options.

They will take his strengths and weaknesses into account, and his aspirations, of course."

"That how you got your class?" I asked.

"Hah. Yes. I earned my class. Never heard of anyone with the same class, actually. During my fourth year, right before my eighteenth birthday, we were sent to clean out some hideout in Radkov. Near the border. Now that town had barely any people living in it, but the woods around it were filled with outlaws. The woods were so thick no horse could pass. A perfect place to hide."

"The woods have been pretty thick everywhere in Silesia so far," I commented.

"I'm surprised not more people hide out in them."

"What makes you think they don't?" Vasil asked.

"Yeah," Bogumir said.

"It's well known the woods are full of scum. Can't see more than a couple of feet ahead, plenty of food, water, and shelter. They build their huts and rotate camps. They don't use any nails or anything. They build everything out of whatever they find, so when they abandon it most of the time you wouldn't even know they were there. Just looks like a bunch of branches and leaves."

"What about swamps?" I asked.

"Only a lunatic would hide in the swamps. With all the godless monsters and spirits and whatever else is in there. No. No one in their right mind would enter the swamps, let alone camp there. They are far too dangerous." So the swamp had been a good choice and a bad choice at the same time. It did seem pretty dangerous with all the ugly monsters and stuff. And I guess if no one ever went there there was nothing to keep the monster population in check. Well, besides me, of course.

Maybe the place was more dangerous than I thought. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I gave a nervous chuckle.

"Haha, yeah. Who'd hide in a swamp? Definitely not me." Kasia shot me a look.

"As I was saying," Bogumir continued.

"So the Church sent a couple of squads. The mission was simple: eliminate everyone. That's easier than arresting them. Usually. But you know what they say—a drowning man will clutch at a razor. When they know their only option is to fight or to die, it awakens something in them. Combine that with them knowing the land far better than us and you can already see where this is going." He paused.

"We won. I think. I don't know. But that's what I told the bishop anyway. I don't remember much, to be honest. What I do know is none of us made it back, except for me. Maybe we didn't win, now that I think about it. I just… I just can't remember what happened. All I know is thinking we'd won. Knowing we'd won. I just had no memory of what happened. In the end, I stumbled back clutching my own arm. It was either take the arm or my notebook. I chose the arm."

"Heh," he said.

"Haven't thought about that in a long time. They praised me like I was some kind of hero. I felt like I was. Now that I think about it I'm not so sure. I spent the days before my birthday recovering. It was slow. Infection had set in. When they asked me if I had a preference for a class I just told them I wanted to live, and that I wanted my arm back. I guess Stvora heard me."

"Someone did," I said.

"Yeah. After that they assigned me to a Dungeon Squad, and I haven't been a part of any purges since. Maybe they didn't want to piss my father off more than they already had."

"Bit strange that they would just sacrifice you like they did if you have such a rare class."

"Maybe," he said.

"Maybe they didn't think it valuable or useful enough. Maybe they didn't care anymore since my father is dead so he won't be giving them any more money or favors." I shrugged.

"Seems pretty useful to me."

"Sure. Unfortunately its limits have become painfully clear to me. Thanks to you."

"Oh, you're welcome. I do enjoy helping people out. And now you know where your weak points are you can work on fixing them… if you ever get a new body. Maybe there's a way for you to do stuff as a head? Besides hanging on my belt, I mean." He responded with a grunt.

"So," I said.

"Your father? Was he strong or something?" Bogumir grunted again.

"Not strong enough, I guess. But he was rich. And an asshole. Now he's a dead asshole, and the world is a better place for it. That's all I have to say about that man."

"Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree," I mumbled.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Huh? Nothing. Got something in my throat."

"Oh. I thought you said the seed cast among thorns grows into a thorn." I cocked my head.

"What? Why would I say that? I don't even know what that means. Are you threatening me?"

"It's a fucking proverb you stupid idiot."

"Woah! Why so hostile? I was just asking a question!"

"It means your environment doesn't change you—it defines you."

"Aha. So kind of an edgy version of the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Which totally wasn't what I said, by the way. If that's what you were thinking."

"Not really," Vasil said.

"An apple does not fall far from the tree is about nature—you become like your parents. A seed cast among thorns is about nurture—you become what you are surrounded by." I guess that did make more sense. It also made me wonder. What was stronger nature or nurture? Looking at myself I barely recognized anything of my parents in my personality. I looked almost identical to my mother, but our behavior, our mannerisms couldn't be more different.

I kind of felt like I had somehow lost track of who I was along the way to Silesia and what I was like. Would hanging out with Bogumir make me more of an asshole… than I already was? Though technically he was hanging out with me, hehe. Geez. I never thought about stuff like this before. What was going on? Was I having some existential crisis or something? I'd never had so much responsibility before. I'd never been under so much pressure. Was I a seed cast among thorns? I glanced at Kasia. Was she?

From what she told me the villagers had been anything but kind to her and Kuba, yet she didn't turn into a thorn, she'd managed to stay a flower. Or maybe she was just a very beautiful thorn who hadn't found a reason to prick me yet, though that seemed unlikely. Did that mean her nature was stronger? Perhaps it was she who was stronger. Maybe that was the lesson—you are who you choose to be. You are the product of your actions, not your lineage or your environment.

If that were true I could also be who I chose to be, and I should be more considerate of my actions, especially to the people I cared about. I turned to Vasil.

"If I'm the seed, and Bogumir is the thorn, what are you?"

"I'd like to think of myself as the water," he replied.

"I'd like to help you grow."

"If you're my water, then Kasia must be my sunshine." I held up my hands.

"No offense, Pyrion. Just in case you're listening." Perhaps I wasn't having a crisis at all. It felt more like a realization.