Chương 27: The Hour of the Dog

On his first night ever spent inside a jail cell, Jordan slept like a log. Fatigue. Anxiety. Anger. Something uncomfortably like lovesickness, and some other thing encouragingly like a feeling of accomplishment. It all jumbled together into a restful and mercifully dreamless sleep, despite it taking place on a hard dirt floor with a block of wood for a pillow. He woke to a distant gong. It came from the city bell keeping each of the daytime hours before curfew. The good vibes dissipated as soon as he was awake.

Headache, stiff joints, sore neck, and the worst thirst imaginable. He derived a modicum of amusement from the fact that the [Long Rest] had healed his HP in full, even though his body felt like it'd been put through the wringer. The first thing he did was crawl over to the cell's rusty metal bars and rattle them for a guard's attention. The response was swift, but not in the manner Jordan might've hoped for. A wooden club from nowhere, swung with force and aimed at Jordan's hand.

He removed said hand just in time for the club to clang loudly against the bar." Silence!" the offending guard commanded, even though the prisoner hadn't said a word. Or even made a noise, for that matter.

"You are not to cause any disturbance until the Imperial Army decides what to do with you."" Oh, so you did pass me up the chain," Jordan noted with a smirk he didn't quite feel.

"That's a good start, I guess. But in the meantime, can a fella get something to drink? At this rate, I'd be pissing out solid crystals before long." The guard responded with another whack of the cell bars. He then turned around and never came back. Jordan hadn't even bothered to scan the man's [Character Sheet], and he meant to keep it that way. No point learning the faces and names of those who only served to make his life miserable. Left with no other choice, Jordan sat leaning against the cell's dingy wall…

and waited. For a looong ass time, judging by the bells that gonged periodically. Long enough for the sunlight trickling in from a slit overhead to have lost its luster. Long enough for yawning hunger to join a growing list of physical complaints. This is the exact situation a'wait' function in video games was built for. Too bad there's no such QoL feature in real-life Vesselia… Also long enough, as it turned out, for the gods to take their turns weighing in on Jordan's predicament.

Strength DC 15: failure Zhurong:"Do you mean to take this injustice lying down, manling? Get up and force your way out!" Dexterity DC 15: failure Nezha:"What happened to your human ingenuity, human? Didn't you come prepared with a lockpick or maybe some chopsticks to dig a hole with?" Charisma DC 15: failure N üwa: "I'm sure you've talked your way out of worse, lordlet. Quick, work your charms on that dull-witted guard, before they send in someone halfway competent."

Intelligence DC 15: success Fuxi:"Be logical about this, pupil. The solution has already been taken out of your hands. Do not exacerbate the situation with meaningless struggle." Wisdom DC 15: success Shennong:"Methinks even this could be a good lesson in maturity, young one. Good things come to those who wait. I would know; I'm a gardener." Constitution DC 15: success Xihe:"Have you, earthborn, ever watched a heron hunt? It stands in shallow water, perfectly still, until the exact moment to strike."

Oh goody, the whole gang's back together. They do say that'misery loves company'. Putting dumb, dumber, and dumbest aside, however, some of the gods did have a point. Jordan especially liked the little nature doc narration by Xihe. A heron waiting in stillness for fish to wander into range. A rather fitting allegory, considering…" If nothing else, you are to be congratulated for your boldness, Westerner." A familiar mocking voice floated from somewhere up the hallway.

It belonged, of course, to Heron Catchgrain of the Imperial Rangers Regiment.

"You haven't even been inducted, yet you've already caused me much nuisance and embarrassment." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. As Jordan watched from behind bars, Heron's entrance was first preceded by a small, floating [Fireball]—a Pyromancer's fancy alternative to [Light]. Then the man himself walked into said light, wearing a sneer identical to the one with which he'd departed the Mallet farmstead a week ago.

Jordan was startled by the changes to the rest of Heron's attire. The Ranger must've been off-duty, because he'd doffed his leather armor in favor of an immaculate set of tunic and trousers. His loosely bound hair now fell almost to his waist in a lustrous curtain. That, together with his neatly split mustache and sensible goatee, meant… Oh god, he's exactly the kind of middle-aged heartthrob Mom goes gaga for in her shows. Dude's handsome and cleans up well, gotta give him that.

If Jordan had expected to see a set of keys in Heron's hands, his hope was dashed in short order. Far from breaking the recruit out of jail, the career soldier pulled up a stool and sat down, looking for all the world like he was settling in for a lengthy conversation." What is it, Jordan Yu?" Heron's sneer widened a touch as the two's eyes met.

"You look… dare I say a touch flustered to see me."" Pfft, me? No." Jordan quickly put away his Mom-vision goggles.

"Just in here meditating, as one does. You should try it sometime. The solitude of a jail cell does wonders for self-reflection." Jordan acted tough because, in truth, he did feel kind of tough. His ordeals on the road to Featherift City had instilled in him a fuck-it-we-ball irreverence if not quite bravery in the truest sense. But his unearned confidence took no time to be tested by one in perfect position to do so." You don't say. Perhaps you'd like to stew in your solitude a while longer?

Really take advantage of this ideal environment for… whatever it is you need to reflect on." Jordan chose not to answer. A) because he wasn't a literal child, nor was this some schoolyard spat. B) because saying anything at this point would only feed into Heron's sadistic streak. The man had come here for a reason, and it wasn't just to gloat at his blood-sealed recruit from the right side of a jail door."

I say, Gatekeeper Yu," Heron went on with obvious sarcasm, directed at a so-called Gatekeeper powerless before a primitive contraption of metal bars, "you haven't forgotten your promise to me, have you?"" I didn't promise you shit. But I do remember signing a piece of paper as part of a mutual agreement."" Quite. And as per said mutual agreement, you were to report to the city barracks by the hour of the Pig tonight. Are you prepared to do that?"" The hell are you talking about, man? I'm here, aren't I?

What more do you need from—" Just then, another distant gong. For the eighth time today, by Jordan's count. Assuming he'd woken up this morning at a reasonable hour, it meant…" Did you hear that? That's the city bell announcing the hour of the Dog. Do you, Westerner, need me to tell you what that means?" Jordan shook his head. What did Heron take him for? As if he hadn't spent the last few days picking Canyon's brain about the local customs." Good," Heron said softly.

"Then I hope you also realize that you don't have much time left. The next time we hear that bell, it'll be to usher in the hour of the Pig."" We?" Jordan asked with a sneer he didn't quite feel.

"Don't tell me you're gonna sit here for two—er, one hour—just to watch me miss my deadline. Just how petty can you get? Not to mention… that's kind of a sad way to use your time, my dude." Heron's sneer froze upon his face." Your first priority is an education in decorum. I'll personally take great pleasure in conducting said education… provided you first hold up your end of the agreement. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to practice some more—what did you call it? —self-reflection inside this cell.

Whereas I might have to pay Copper Hill another visit, if only to fill the hole left by your desertion." Jordan swallowed. It took every ounce of his willpower not to show a bigger reaction. Strength DC 12: success Zhurong:"Pah! He's bluffing. The whelp may snap and bluster like a common cur, but before that, he's a soldier. He wouldn't dare trifle with his duties." Charisma DC 12: success N üwa: "The meathead isn't wrong. I know this Pyromancer's type.

A perverse sort of dog that would rather toy with its prey than go for the kill. But in the end, it too has a master to answer to." Dumb and dumber had a point, of course. And by their surprisingly sensible logic, the best course of action was to call the Ranger's bluff. See if Heron really would run out the clock, after making such a show of recruiting a Lv. 30 Gatekeeper and his bottomless Vessel into the Imperial Army. But Jordan also knew that the sensible thing wasn't always the right thing.

In fact, he'd been born with that knowledge. He'd certainly known it as a ten-year-old. A ten-year-old who sometimes peed his pants but still knew to stand up to a gang of neighborhood ruffians who were harassing Rudolf the family dog. He'd gotten a black eye that lasted for weeks, right through to school photo day. Mom had yelled at him for being reckless. Dad had pulled him aside afterward to tell him he'd done the right thing. He'd known it as a ten-year-old, but somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten.

A basketball coach who wouldn't get off your back. An ex who insisted that yes, it was all you, actually. A boss determined to find every excuse not to give you that next promotion. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten what it was to stand up for himself, even in the face of a stark power imbalance. Well, right now, the power dynamics couldn't be less balanced if they tried. On one side, a Lv. 15 Pyromancer. Handsome, sneering, backed by his status in the world and the magical prowess with which he'd earned it.

On the other, Jordan Yu. Middling as a 21st-century Earthling. Arguably even more pathetic as a Vesselian spellcaster. But Jordan couldn't back down. Because he'd remembered. And he never wanted to forget again. Heron Catchgrain (fuckface) has threatened to keep you locked up past the deadline to report to the city barracks. He would see you plead, beg, grovel for clemency. Will you …