“Tell me more about these murders,” Lucan said as he and Jaron sat at one of the tables.
Jaron Ed, perhaps one of the most prominent authors in the Elder Lands and certainly the foremost author of Barwalius, sat across from him with a deep frown. “It began a few months ago. The first body was found in a rather rundown district of town. It was laid on the shoulders of local ruffians, but I hear even the nearby strongmen were rather disconcerted by the incident.” Lucan nodded, humming for him to continue.
“Apparently, another happened a fortnight after, but it was in one of the common districts. That one shook the city. Rumors arose of a beast on the prowl. Blame was thrown at the guild manning the dungeon at the time for failing to see to their duties. Guards swept the streets for a rogue beast. Adventurers were on the hunt. Yet nothing was found, and for a moon, there was quiet.” Lucan followed the historian’s story with rapt attention, nodding every so often to let the man know that he still had him captured.
“Then there was another,” Jaron Ed said ominously. “This one was a guard though, armed and trained, but cut open like a fish. The city didn’t rest for another month. Guilds and guardsmen were once again on the hunt, only with more resolve.” Lucan cocked his head, waiting to hear what they found.
“Nothing.” Jaron raised two empty palms up. “Whoever the murderer was, they disappeared once again. No one found anything out of the ordinary. Some folk claimed to have seen a suspicious man here or there, but what they saw seemed to differ from one witness to another, and the guardsmen concluded that raw panic had begun to drive people’s imaginations. They sealed the matter before it could descend into widespread madness.”
“Since then, four more murders have happened, each as gruesome as the last. Rather concerning, I would say. I have been following them with quiet interest, but now I wonder if they’re as far away from me as I had thought them to be.” The historian rubbed his cheek, not unlike a worried child.
“Worry not, Master Jaron,” Lucan said. “The guards the guild has sent ought to be enough, and if not, you can rely on my friends and me to come to your aid should you need it.”
“Truly?” the man brightened, leaning forward as though about to embrace Lucan. “I would be most grateful for such an assurance, Master…Forgive me. Your name has slipped my old mind.”
“Lucan.”
“Yes! Master Lucan.” Jaron Ed bobbed his head self-assuringly.
“It is my pleasure to protect a man as important as yourself to the world of letters, Master Jaron,” Lucan said, smiling. “Would you, however, wish to enlighten me on your purpose in the Union?”
Thankfully, the historian didn’t seem to believe discretion necessary, as he raised his brows with some excitement and said, “Well, of course! You see, for a time now, I have been hearing of these dungeons the guilds have fashioned, and while some knowledge has been passed along about them, none have truly studied and chronicled their rise and existence. I wish to be the first to do so. I certainly was not going to let that old hag Moralia beat me to it when I was only a toe’s flick away from these Union cities.”
“I see,” Lucan said. “Would you care to tell me of your findings so far?” Seeing the confusion on the scholar’s face, Lucan continued, “You see, I am an avid reader of history, and I have read nearly all of your books.”
“Ah, it is clear to me now,” Jaron Ed said. “A fellow scholar! It would be my pleasure to share with you.” He paused, frowning. “You wouldn’t happen to be writing something at this time, would you?”
Lucan was perplexed for a moment, then understanding hit him. He shook his head. “No. No such thing, Master Jaron. Only my curiosity drives me.”
Jaron Ed observed him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then seemed to regain his cheer. “In such case, this is an opportune moment for both of us. I have been wishing to discuss these matters with someone. A scholar with no critic might as well be a philosopher, you see.”
Lucan nodded, though he had no intention of being Jaron Ed’s critic. Who knew if the man would be as kind to Lucan’s disagreements as he pretended he would be. Lucan, at least, wouldn’t show any disagreement until he’d been through all that the man had to say.
“Let me lead you to the beginning of this whole undertaking,” Jaron Ed continued, seemingly more at ease now that the matter of the murders was behind them. “Do you know why mines don’t have to worry about beasts ruining their yields even though they often dig deep into the earth?”
Lucan frowned, shaking his head. His estate had no mines to speak of, and the neighbor’s knights’ silver mine was…well, he didn’t know.
“You see, the beasts follow the path of least resistance. They often crawl their way into the lowest tunnels of any mine, then attempt to ascend. Over the ages, engineers and miners learned always to have a few shafts and tunnels dug for that purpose. Tight and easily observable, these deathtraps were often prepared to slow or outright entrap the beasts until the miners could escape and soldiers could come down and execute the beasts. And that is the manner in which the idea for the dungeons came!”
Lucan nodded along with a face full of wonder, having no need to pretend.
With a sparkle in his eyes, the historian continued, “A whole economy has spawned around these dungeons. Can you believe it? Armorers, weaponsmiths, appraisers, and more!”
“Appraisers?” Lucan asked. The profession was rather rare, only existing in big cities or in the employ of powerful Houses in Barwalis.
“Yes,” Jaron said. “While the rarity of the Skill and the difficulty of its arts are still significant constraints, the abundance of beasts in the dungeons and the hinterlands has proven itself a boon. Appraisers have found work aplenty in the Union, which served to improve their mastery of the Skill.”
Lucan frowned. If he’d known that, he might have brought his twice-souled Orb for appraisal, though it would have come with the trouble of having to protect and hide it if they were searched by guards. They were travelling in disguise, after all. He sighed. “What of these craftsmen?” He couldn’t understand how armorers and weaponsmiths would benefit from the dungeons.
“With the abundance of materials, armorers have learned to adapt their craft to use beast parts like hides and shells to make good, cheap armor for adventurers. The same goes for weaponsmiths. I am studying the phenomenon even now. It seems that materials are often unique and difficult to work with, and the craftsmen who have succeeded in these endeavors all seem young for some reason. I am still uncertain of the particulars.”
Lucan nodded again, enraptured. He couldn’t imagine telling an armorer or a weaponsmith in Barwalis to craft something from a beast. It made more sense to use the more workable hides they were used to, and when it came to the tougher beasts, he imagined it made the endeavor even more difficult without some peculiar tools.
There was a beat of silence, then Jaron continued, “There’s yet another aspect to this undertaking.” The historian paused for show, eying Lucan’s excitement with a smile. “God Orbs. With so many more beasts, adventurers would inevitably come across more Heralds than is common elsewhere. These beasts are as dangerous as they are hailed, taking the lives of many every year, yet also yielding many more Orbs than is the norm in other realms.”
“I imagine there is an abundance of Skills in the Union then,” Lucan said.
“There is indeed,” Jaron said. “At least every few months, there’s a Skilled Orb on auction. Many more feral Orbs appear in the market during those months.”
Lucan rubbed his chin. “Well, this could birth an imbalance in the Elder Lands.”
“Indeed, if the Union was a unified power, it would,” Jaron said. “Their pool of Skills is doubtlessly growing over the decades. Fortunately for all their neighbors, they are neither unified nor bent on expansion. The guilds seem content with building as much wealth as they can when they’re not vying for power over each other. Even their most rabid gloryhounds are kept in check by the interests of the majority.”
“I wonder what kinds of Skills one may find among the adventurers here,” Lucan said with another sigh.
“Certainly things hitherto unseen,” Jaron said. “I must admit, the study of Skills enamored me for years, but answers often eluded me whenever I drew too close with my questions.”
“What questions?” Lucan asked with growing curiosity.
“Too many to count, I am afraid. Though my last one was quite interesting. You must know of the Skills we humans can naturally learn, yes?” Upon seeing Lucan’s nod, Jaron continued, “Practice alone seems to be enough to learn Skills like Spearmanship, Swordsmanship, and a few others. I’ve chosen to call them the Lean Skills. They’re the only Skills that don’t need a God Orb or a bestowal from an expert Blessed for us to learn.”
“Did you find the cause of their existence?”
Jaron guffawed. “If only it were so easy! All I found were three clues, and each of them came with more questions, ones that I couldn’t answer still. Normally, that would only stoke the fires of my curiosity, but I seemed to tread shallower and shallower waters when it came to archived knowledge on this matter. I must admit, I grew too frustrated. But did you know that the Merfolk have different Lean Skills than ours?”
Lucan raised a brow. “No.”
“Well, that was one of the few clues I found. It seems that these Skills are tied to the race of the Blessed. Attempts at learning the Lean Skills of the Merfolk have all failed.”
“What are the two other clues?”
“Well, the second one alone does not sound as important, but it is. You see, we, the people of the Dead Continent who ended up landing in the Elder Lands, don’t truly know when the Blessing came to be. We know that it happened when we were still on the Dead Continent. We know that it didn’t always exist, not in the way it does now, at least. Histories tell us of ancient times when magic was a much more esoteric matter of study, difficult to apply and wield. Yet, they don’t tell us how the shift happened. How the Blessing came to be, and how it changed everything. Some believe the Blessing itself to be magic, wrought in the form of Skills and endowments of power into our fragile forms. Yet no proof exists of that.”
“The third clue is understandable only when you know the second,” Jaron went on. “All our Lean Skills seem to have been the martial arts held in high regard in the times of old, the ones our most fragmented histories speak of. Is it a coincidence then that when the Blessing came, whenever it did, those Skills became the easiest ones for us to wield?”
“Yes, but how did the Blessing come to be in the first place? What brought it into existence?” Lucan found himself asking.
“Well, that is a matter a thousand scholars before us have waded into,” Jaron said with a knowing smile. “I am afraid none of them came out triumphant.”