Chapter 7
Bedtime Story
Axios, Upper Midgard
13 Ianuarius 652
"Well, this sure as hell wasn't how I expected my day to go," Pawel grumbled as he stuffed a slice of roast chicken in his mouth.
The Guild Hall provided complimentary meals and lodgings to Adventurers, giving priority to the Rookies who were just finding their feet. It was nothing too fancy, but you could not afford to be picky when you were just starting out, or if some turn of bad luck left you destitute.
Rumors were already swirling around about the afternoon's incident in the Rats' Nest and eyes were being cast in the direction of Pawel and his group as they sat somewhat removed from the others at the end of one of the long tables of the mess hall.
Arjun stared glumly at his trencher while idly prodding a bit of boiled potato with his knife.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"This is why you don't go wanderin' off," Pawel said, "but it's partly our fault, too. We should've been keepin' a closer eye on you."
This did little to allay Arjun's guilt, it would seem, but he did look up and ask, "Are you gonna tell us what you said you were gonna tell us before?"
Pawel looked around and said, "Alright, I guess now's as good a time as any. You know how we said we've been here before, me, Mama Zosia an' Mama Junka? Well, that's not all. You were here, too. In fact, you were born here."
The children looked at each other. It did not take them long to realize they were not like other families or that Fedor was about the only one who could reasonably pass for being like the other children at school. After all, they were not living in the big melting pot that is America where such a thing might be plausible or even one of the more cosmopolitan big cities. Pawel, Zofiya and Jun never hid the fact that they were not the children's biological parents, but they also agreed with each other not to get into any of the details until the children were a fair bit older. So much for that idea.
"They told you about Adventurin' Companies, not that you've got to really worry 'bout that until after you've hit Level 20. Well, your parents were the leaders of a Company called the White Lions. Arjun, your father Ramachandra was our Captain. I don't imagine folks have forgotten about him. Even when he was still alive, they were callin' him 'the Blessed Ramachandra'."
"What happened?" Arjun asked.
"You were told that the World is divided into these areas called the Trials. At the 21st Trial is supposed to be the root of all evil in the World. Defeatin' that's the whole point of the Game. It's why they've been doin' the Summonin' for the past six hundred years. Tens of thousands of Adventurers an' they think the 21st Trial's only been reached two or three times."
"They think?" Arjun noted. Ever the sharp one, that kid.
"No one's lived to tell the tale," Pawel replied. "The NPCs, ah, the People of the World, they don't go past the 16th Trial. Apparently some Adventurers have tried to set up outposts past the 16th Trial, but they never last long. Anyway, 'bout seven years ago, the White Lions made a go at the 21st Trial." He paused to make sure they got the point. "We didn't make it.
"The 20th Trial, Helheim... It was too much for us. Max capacity for an Adventurin' Company is 96 an' we were full up when we went in. Only seven of us came out alive."
Zofiya wrapped her arms around herself as the memories were coming back to her. Pawel reached out to pull her in close. Six years was nowhere near enough time to get over the things they saw, the things that happened to them and their comrades. Even without getting into the details, the children could see how serious it was.
"How'd you escape?" Fedor asked.
Pawel pulled out the Recall Stone from his pouch and showed it to them, saying, "You see this? Me an' Mama Zosia, we held on to ours for almost eight years. Never touched the thing until that day. That pool you saw in the middle of the Temple, it plops you there stark-naked but alive, hopefully. There were a few who were too far gone by the time they made it there.
"Most people end up using theirs before they hit Level 20 an' never think to get another, but your father, Arjun, he made sure everyone had one. He said we were gonna do this, but that the White Lions weren't in the business of pointless sacrifice. If worse came to worst, we were all supposed to blink out. Yeah, we'd lose all our stuff, but we'd just build back up again an' take another crack at it. That was the plan..."
It was Zsuzsanna who spoke up next, asking, "Are we... are we different, 'cause we were born here?"
"You are," Pawel said. "When two Adventurers have a kid, their Blessin's get passed on. One theory is that breedin' a child who's inherited the Blessin's of all of the Twelve will create the Brave, but I don't think they've ever managed to raise up a kid like that yet."
"What're Blessings?" Fedor asked.
Pawel looked to Zofiya.
"Cleric?"
Zofiya had recovered enough from reliving the trauma of Helheim to answer.
"Tomorrow we're going to go back to the Temple so you can pick your Patron. Now, a Patron matters most to Mages and Clerics, which none of you children are, but for anyone, the greater the faith you have in your Patron, the greater the Blessing your Patron will bestow on you."
"Your Spirit ratin', in other words," Pawel said. "Fedya an' Arjun, you two may not think Spirit's that important right now, but if you decide to cross-rate into Mage or Cleric later, you'll want it to make sure you've got enough to do things with it."
"What's cross-rate?" Fedor asked.
"You don't really need to worry 'bout it till Level 10," Pawel said. "Just focus on your current Job for now. Back to those Blessin's."
Zofiya nodded.
"You'll hear more about the Twelve tomorrow," she said, "but basically they govern the twelve kinds of magic. They also govern certain Weapon and Armor types. My Patron is Denaan, the Goddess of Wood. She governs whips and flails, so her first Blessing gives you a higher starting proficiency with that Weapon type. When I cross-rated as a Thief, the Thief's natural proficiency with whips and flails was added to my Blessing. Normally you would spend about twenty levels worth of grinding to go up two Combat Levels, and I don't even use whips and flails."
Pawel added, "Startin' out, especially if you're not a Mage or Cleric, pickin' a Patron who governs your preferred Weapon type is one of the easy choices to make."
"But we have our parents' Blessing, though, right?" Arjun said. "We wouldn't want to choose one of their Patrons, would we?"
"It depends," Pawel said. "The Blessin's you inherited only go as far as what your parents achieved before you, before you were born."
Pawel almost said 'before you were conceived', but he was not at all prepared to get into that discussion today.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of one of the other children choking and sputtering. Six years of being foster parents prompted Pawel and Zofiya to both spring up and go to the child in question. It was a painfully thin African boy trying to eat the same roast chicken as the others. Pawel carefully took hold of him, redirected his head away from table to the floor and holding him steady, saying, "Cough it up, kid. If you can't hold it in, just let it out. I got you. Zosia, get me some water!"
Zofiya got the pitcher and poured some water into a cup. Once the boy stopped coughing, Pawel helped him back up as Zosia brought the cup to his lips.
"Slow sips now," Pawel told him. "Easy, easy."
When it looked like the boy had settled somewhat, Pawel handed him over to Zofiya.
"Take over for a minute."
He stood up and looked around, finding the nearest serving wench and demanding, "Was it you!? You the one who served these kids!?"
The startled woman could only stammer, "Ye, yes, sir!"
Pawel pointed to the boy and said, "Can't you see that kid's half-starved to death!? An' you go and give him a big fat juicy chicken!"
"I, it, it's what we're serving everyone today, sir!"
"His body can't handle food that rich! Don't you have any sense!"
"No, sir! I mean, I don't know, sir! I didn't know, sir!"
Pawel clapped a hand on her shoulder and took a breath to calm himself down a bit before saying, "Well, you're gonna do what I tell you now, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're gonna make up some thin gruel—grind up the corn real fine before you start boilin' it—and bring me about a cup's worth, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"You got some goat's milk?"
"No, sir, but we have cow milk."
"Nah, cow milk's no good, not in the shape he's in. Get on that gruel."
"Yes, sir."
The serving wench scurried off and Pawel went back to the boy.
"You didn't have to scare that poor woman half to death, Pawelek," Zofiya said.
"Yeah, well, I let the blood go to my head. Damn, you'd think they'd know better than this. This isn't the first time they've gotten a Summoned who was in this bad a shape."
"You shouting doesn't make the situation any better."
"I calmed down, didn't I?"
One of the other children interrupted their back-and-forth, asking, "Is he gonna die?"
"He's not gonna die," Pawel said. "He's just in bad shape 'cause he hasn't been able to eat right in a long time. You ever come across someone in this state, you might be thinkin' all they need is to eat a nice hearty meal, but when their body's this weak, you gotta go easy on 'em, got it?"
"What's gruel?" another child asked.
"Ah, you know porridge?"
"Like from Goldilocks?"
"Yeah, that. Well, gruel is thinner. It's usually all that peasants can afford. It's simple and easy on the stomach."
The serving wench returned with the gruel, in a regular bowl rather than a cup like Pawel requested, but after Zofiya's earlier admonition, he did not voice any complaints.
Figuring a woman's touch would be better in a situation like this, he looked to Zofiya and said, "Take over, Mama."
It had been a while since she had to feed the children, but Zofiya picked it back up again like it was yesterday, carefully blowing on the spoonful of gruel before feeding it to the child.
"Slow an' steady, kid," Pawel said to encourage the child, rubbing his back. "It's a wonder you've been able to walk around all this time. Dammit, the tertiary should've taken you to the House of Manaan the moment you got here."
"There's no helping it now, Pawelek," Zofiya said. "We can see that he gets looked at when we go back to the Temple tomorrow. They should at least be able to speed up his recovery or else it'll take weeks to get him in halfway decent shape."
"Yeah, well, let's just get him through the night for now. Don't give him too much, right? Not even half that."
"I know, Pawelek. He'll need another feeding or two before sunrise."
Pawelek looked around and asked, "Who's responsible for these kids?"
Of the dozen or so people in the mess hall, no one spoke up to claim responsibility for them. Neither the Guild clerk who picked them up at the Temple nor the one who took the young Rookies out shopping earlier were anywhere to be found. There should have been someone on hand to oversee things at least until they were all put down for the night. In the absence of anyone from the Guild to take charge, there was only one alternative. Pawel and Zofiya exchanged glances.
"Well, what's another kid or two at this point?" Zofiya said.
* * *
The sleeping area on the second floor of the tavern was about the same size as the mess hall with a few dozen straw mats laid out with curtained partitions to give a limited measure of privacy to groups of twos and threes, fours at most. Out in the field, you learned to get cozy with your teammates for warmth, so there were not many Adventurers who would insist on the luxury of single accommodations. Newly summoned Rookies might put up a fuss at first, but usually they were so desperate for someone to cling to after having been suddenly separated from their families that they would quickly attach themselves to their future teammates. The ones who did not were not usually known to last long.
Although the children were getting close to the age where the three of them sleeping together might start to be a problem, that was not a concern for this evening. Zofiya peeked in on them from the neighboring partition where she and Pawel were before returning to him.
"They're out like a light," she said.
"Yeah, well, it's been a busy day for them," Pawel replied.
"It's been a busy day for us, too," Zofiya said. "Which reminds me..."
It was not that Pawel had forgotten or that he had expected Zofiya to forget, but part of him was hoping this might be a discussion for another day. He should not have even dared to hope this seeing as how they would be going back to the Temple in the morning.
Pawel did not know how this was going to start, but the way it did was about the last way he would have imagined. Zofiya    slowly undid the fasteners on the China dress Crispo had given her and let it slide off her shoulders down onto the floor. She then untied the little silk bodice and slipped off her loincloth as well to stand in front of him completely naked. Pawel had seen some women who he thought he really wanted to see out of their clothes, only to find what was going on underneath was not quite as appealing as he had hoped. That was not the case here.
"This is what you've been wanting, isn't it, Pawelek?" she asked him. "For how many years now? Ever since you were first interested in girls? All these years we've been together... Our first awkward kiss... A lot of awkward kisses after that... We stopped when we knew Junka liked you, too. Well, mostly."
She got down on her hands and knees and positioned herself on top of Pawel.
"Seven years we waited until you would make a decision. I won't pretend it wasn't hard for you. It was hard for me, and for Junka, but we waited. Could the three of us had made it work? You couldn't marry both of us. I tried to support Junka, but I know how jealous she can get. I'm not any better, really. And now Junka isn't here."
Were they really going to do this? Here? With the children sleeping right next to them and only a single piece of cloth between them? To be brutally honest, concern for the children was quickly going down on the list of his priorities.
Did he want it? Yes. Had he wanted it all this time? Of course. Would he refuse it if he was given the chance? Not bloody likely.
"I've wanted this just as long as you have, Pawelek," she said. "Maybe I imagined something a little more romantic for our first time, but it doesn't look like I need much to get into the mood."
Pawel did feel a little guilty for Jun, but probably if their positions were reversed, he would have taken her with just as little reservation. Maybe this was the World's way of saying Zofiya was the one for him after all.
Zofiya leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss eagerly, only to realize Zofiya used the same concoction of anise, alexanders and honey to freshen her breath after supper. Images of that girl from the Temple flashed in his mind, sensations. That might have been enough to make a normal person pause, but he was not about to let this moment pass him by. He wrapped his arms around her to draw her in, but then he felt something pressing on his chest. It was Zofiya's hands as she pushed away from him.
She was no less worked up than he was, but you could see the cool anger in her eyes.
"And then you had to go shtup the first thing you saw."
An odd choice of words. Maybe watching Blazing Saddles with her was a mistake.
Zofiya reached into their bags and pulled out her tunic. She stood up once more so he could get a good look at her.
Gesturing to her body, she said, "Now you don't get this."
She then put on the tunic to cover herself. Being keyed up as he was, Pawel remembered how he felt earlier in the day, that same animal drive coming upon him. He stood up and seized Zofiya by the arms. This surprised her. There was even some fear in her eyes but also defiance.
"Pawelek, I swear, if you try and force me, I'll—"
That girl had not been able to stop him, but for Zofiya to look at him in fear, even if she tried to hide it, especially if she tried to hide it...
Pawel could feel his guts being shredded as if he were being mauled by a Hellcat. The horror and the shame nearly cause his heart to die within his chest. He sank down to his knees, clutching at the skirt of Zofiya's tunic.
"What am I doing? What have I done?"
Zofiya knelt down and embraced him, whispering in his ear, "You did something terrible. You almost did it again. I don't know how I'm going to forgive you, but I'm not going to leave you. For the children's sake if nothing else."
"What can I do?" Pawel asked. "How can I make things right?"
"I don't know if there is anything you can do," Zofiya said. "Was it you or her?"
"It was me. It was all me. Don't blame her. It wasn't her fault."
"Then you forced her. Did you hurt her?"
"No more than the first time hurts, I don't think."
"Oh, Pawelek..."
Zofiya started to cry, a stifled sort of cry as she did not want to wake up the children.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Pawel said pathetically, knowing that no number of sorries could begin to make up for what he had done.
"I hate what you've done, Pawelek," Zofiya said through her tears, "but I can't hate you. I don't know what we're going to do, but we'll figure it out."
She pulled away to look Pawel eye to eye. There were not many times he had seen her cry, but he never liked it and this was probably the worst of all, even worse than seven years ago. As heart-wrenching as it was to mourn the loss of their comrades, then they could blame the Demon Lord and his hellspawn. This time the guilt was all on his own head.
Despite everything, Zofiya managed a weak smile and said, "Be glad you got me instead of Junka. She would have gelded you for this."
Smiling the way only a person who has been to Hell and back can, Pawel replied, "Thank God for small favors."