"Woebegone," Dalliance said loudly. It felt like more than just long minutes had passed, but the bigger boy was still where Dalliance had left him, except now he was leaning off the edge of the railing, a puddle of vomit on the floor below.
Just how badly did I hurt him? Dalliance wondered. He felt vaguely guilty, but it was going to get worse before it got better.
"We’re leaving, and the place is burning down," Dalliance told him.
"If I leave," Woebegone said, "they'll make me go back in.”
“If you leave, you’ll be leaving with the rest of us, because the building is burning down." corrected Dalliance. Woebegone stared at him dully. The bruises on his face were really pretty bad.
"I don’t trust you, Rather," Woebegone said frankly.
"You don’t have to. Just go. You don’t even have to like me.”
“Just go to the door.”
“You’ll see everyone is leaving. We’ve got it trapped," but the other boy didn’t look impressed.
“That's what you said last time."
“Impaled.”
"No, I don’t think I believe you. I'll keep my options open."
This was going nowhere.
Dalliance raised the sword.
“Why do you have Sterling’s—”
Burn.
The hall at the top of the staircase was engulfed in flame. Dalliance drew the line of fire, interdicting passage through either of the doors on the main floor.
The room burned silver and gold, and shadows danced over an incredulous Woebegone’s face from the balustrade.
It was uncomfortably hot.
“Now,” Dalliance said. “I left you your options. Door?”
Woebegone descended the stairs, hugging the leftmost side, hands on the remaining bannister.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why can’t you ever just leave me be.”
“It’d be just my luck for you to die in here, and I’d get blamed for it.”
Woebegone limped across the entryway, opened the door, and left.
Over the next few minutes, Dalliance completed his fiery work, walking the perimeter, shooting off every last spark the sword was capable of. The grand entrance hall, with its towering stair, became an inferno. Flames licked the ceiling of the two-story chamber, the heat injurious to look at.
Can't shadow-step or whatever through light. So I'll make it all light.
He watched as the flames climbed the walls and across the roof, a steep section disappearing in a shower of sparks as it collapsed. He wondered how long the ghoul would stay pinned in one place before the walls burned away enough for it to pull free.
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He hoped it'd be dead by then.
Woebegone was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the guards.. Dalliance wandered over to the camp, where the Mallows had set up their fire.
Circe had already made it to them. Dalliance could see the silhouette of Missus Mallow's sure embrace of the girl. The two retired into the wagon after a time, with Circe emerging later, alone.
Last hunt, he said to himself. And I got them all out.
The Mallows were generous with their repast, having brought something for everyone just in case. Dalliance thought the vote of confidence that implied was very pleasant indeed, but that wasn’t the only surprising thing to happen around their fire.
"I misjudged you."
Dalliance glared at Sterling.
"No," said the knight's son. "I mean it. Whatever comes of this tomorrow, today we’re all alive, and that’s not due to my efforts. I apologize. For the books. My behavior."
Dalliance still didn't feel inclined to hear it, but when Sterling dug into his pocket and presented his flask, Dalliance accepted it with his best approximation of a friendly smile.
Engaging [Predication] came naturally.
It was truly as easy as taking candy from a baby.
"Hello, Mister Mallow," Dalliance said. The Mallow patriarch, who had not been about to wander over, did so. A wide-eyed Sterling watched Dalliance, who squirrelled the flask away behind his back, with a sigh of relief, poorly hidden.
"Congratulations." Dalliance heard, though he was too busy pouring his purple purchase from the potion shop into the skinny flask's top without being called out for it to engage fully. “I’d feared for this one very much, but I’m happy to see you’re safely returned.”
He sloshed the contents, mixing it in.
"Leadership," Sterling was saying, "isn’t just about who’s the best with the blade. I always put too much store by my father's prowess and not enough by his judgment. But if this is what you can expect from it, then I’ve got some Wit I need to invest in."
"Very gracious of you," said Effluvia approvingly.
His fellow wizard had, of course, also stacked ten Wit, and smiled warmly at Sterling for his voiced approval of her own choices.
Dalliance suspected she had started with somewhat more experience than he had, from the goblin deaths, and perhaps she’d even been out farming experience. Certainly, she’d tiered up suspiciously quickly for someone without any sort of head start.
The Mallow man left to walk a perimeter around the fire. Immaculate, jumping to his feet, insisted that should the ghoul escape, he wouldn’t want to be caught alone. The two went off together.
"A toast," Dalliance said, fitting action to his words and tipping Sterling‘s flask back. He pressed the opening against his lip, where he felt the viscous purple of the drops which had missed the opening, and wiped it with his sleeve conspicuously before passing it on.
"To the last hunt," he said. "No one died."
There wasn’t really anything any chance someone would want to gainsay him about that, he thought. But as he said the words, he discovered there was no future in which Charity was going to drink, which . . . was good. He wasn't going to have to whisper to her not to.
Earnest took the first gulp. Sorry, buddy, Dalliance thought.
Then Sterling, reclaiming his flask, looked thoughtfully at it before taking a deep draw and passing it on. "Nobody died," he said. He cracked a smile. Dalliance hadn’t seen him crack an actual smile at something that wasn’t at least a little bit mean for months.
Effluvia had been watching Dalliance narrowly and toasted with her own skin rather than accepting the flask. Zenith, however, accepted it.
"Ah, no," said Circe quickly. To the round of inquisitive looks, she explained, "She’s just been healed. It’s not the best for you." Nobody wanted to argue the point. Zenith passed it to Circe, who took, capped, and brought back Sterling's possession, placing it in his hands. "But thanks, anyway," she said.
No one could read her face, but she sounded sincere.
An hour later, Dalliance observed a grinning Sterling pass the flask to Immaculate. The boy looked at it as if it were a snake before taking a small, reluctant sip.
Dalliance winced. He had been hoping Immaculate would miss out; the boy wasn't a threat to the scholarship anyway, not with those math grades, and he was a decent person. But then, perhaps this would put him off drinking for good.
It was nearly morning before he got the notification from the system: [To Kill Death: You have slain a ghoul, one on the steps towards lichdom and immortality. For this unusual achievement, you have been granted eight (8) experience. For your kindling of the blaze which took its life, you have been granted an additional eight (8) experience.]
He's currently at:
Might: E0
Grit: E1
Agility: E2
Wit: E8
Charm: E0
Spirit: E2 (+2 for Aeromancer)
E has a multiplier of 3, as opposed to the multiplier of 2 for F ranks, so each point goes a bit further, thus the notation.
I'll redo the stat sheet and post it later, but I'm exhausted. Kid brought home some sort of bug. Again.
3 points gets Spirit to 3 (+2 for Aeromancer)
4 points then gets it to 4 (+2 for Aeromancer)
5 points then would get it to 5 (+2 for Aeromancer) - a very respectable amount.
Or 3 and 4 could go to increase agility.
Dad gum it I forgot that E tier doubles the cost. Redo:
6 points gets Spirit to 3 (+2 for Aeromancer)
8 points then gets it to 4 (+2 for Aeromancer)
2 points left over.
Or 6 for Spirit, 6 for Agility.
4 points left over.
If I forgot anything else, or my math is wrong, feel free to call me out on it.
SO: