Nihilea
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Chapter 38: Tithe
🕑 Added 2024-11-05 03:29:15 +0000 UTCChapter 38: Tithe
Ten percent of the earnings at each stop of the caravan. It was a better deal than it sounded, because we were talking gross revenue here: the total earned in sales, without considering any deductions for what was spent procuring the goods for sale. I wasn’t investing anything into this venture beyond my talents and time, while the rewards could be considerable, and best of all, because the nature of this enterprise was so blatantly illegal, I wasn’t at all at risk of falling afoul of my Class Covenants. Harvey had departed quickly after we made our deal, claiming to have business to attend to. That left me in the care of Little Boy and Fat Man, neither of whom looked sure what to do with me.
“First time doing business like this?” I asked rhetorically, because of course it was: neither of them looked nearly comfortable enough to claim otherwise.
“Yeah,” Little Boy confessed, sure enough. “Our job’s just to mind the house, make sure nobody’s breaking in and finding all the goods. A bit of loading and unloading sometimes, if the regulars aren’t around to haul crates, but nothing too big. I’m happy with what I got, though; it pays better than working the fields, and I get to stay home near the family. Travelling sounds nice, but it’s not for me.”
“Harvey offered to take us along, before,” Fat Man chimed in. “Couldn’t do it though, not with a bad leg from my fighting days. A bit of heavy work now and again is okay, but weeks of travel and sleeping in a rattling cart? No chance.”
Their excuses for leaving money on the table were plausible enough, so I didn’t pry any further: truth be told, the pair were amusing but simply not exciting enough for me to bother. Whatever secrets they held were weighed against a total lack of ambition, and found wanting in my eyes. Neither would be suitable companions for a high risk journey, and it would be high risk, that I could guarantee, because a trip to the border under constant siege by monsters simply couldn’t be boring.
“How long until the next caravan leaves, anyway?” I asked instead, having missed that particular detail amidst the excitement of a proper business negotiation.
“Should be off at the end of the week,” Fat Man grunted. “Another two nights, then setting off in the morning on the third day.”
“Wonderful,” I declared, before pausing as if to think. “Say, you wouldn’t mind hosting me here until then, right? I’m afraid I don’t have much money left to stay in an inn.”
That was a blatant lie, as I’d reclaimed my nine gilt from before, but it helped to test two things: firstly, whether either of the pair could pick up my clear falsehoods, over a fairly low stakes matter, and secondly, how much they were willing to accommodate my requests, now that their boss had struck a deal with me.
“There’s a spare bed in the attic for visitors, you can have that,” Little Boy promptly informed me. “Just don’t do anything dumb to draw the lawmen here.”
“Sounds good to me,” I agreed, before heading upstairs to go look at my new home for the next few days.
Damien’s body was still on the ground behind me, after all, and I didn’t want to get in the way of the cleaning. It would begin to smell soon, if it was just left there to rot, so best clear the way for the hired help. All in all, I’d gotten rid of the incompetent fool who accidentally caused me to remember my past life, all while suitably impressing the members of an impressively well-run organised crime ring, and securing a lucrative contract on the local silk road. As I climbed up two flights of stairs into a dusty old attic, having to duck my head to avoid bashing it on the sloped rooftop, I considered the day well spent as I sank into the bed.
[Pumpkin the Cat withdrawn.]
Letting Pumpkin out to play, as he’d be a useful sentry in case the duo below tried anything funny, I pulled the worn comforter over my clothes and settled in to catch up on some sleep. I was young again, but that was no reason to neglect my health, and I’d done a lot of running the previous night. Before going to bed, I checked my status page again, as had become a habit in recent days.
[Will Swindell
Class (True): Level 2 Soldier of Fortune
Class (Public): Level 1 Merchant
Title: [Empty]
Experience: 231/300
Traits
Money is Power: All attributes scale with accumulated wealth.
Money in the Pocket: A private storage space for your personal belongings.
Masquerade: Your Class is invisible, and you appear Classless by default. Alternatively, you may choose to display a public identity. You may choose the Level of your displayed Class, up to your true Level. Available identities: Soldier, Merchant.
Death and Taxes: As a Soldier, wounds you inflict cause rapid decay. As a Merchant, curses you inflict last twice as long.
Titles
Murderer: You are recognised by certain dark powers. It would be unwise to wear this in public.
Covenants
Self-Made Man: Class will be lost if you ever resort to taking a loan.
Thief in Law: Class will be lost if you ever accept legitimate employment.
Advancement
Gain property
Gain subordinates
Gain influence
More, always more!
Contacts
Amelia Dawn - Level 3 Healer
Inventory
4.5” Knife (Smooth/Serrated)
9 Gilt (Frontier)
Pumpkin the Cat
Padlock (Locked)
Gambeson
Backup Shirt and Pants
Mask (Cat)
3x Loaf of bread
6x Apple
Bag of Oatmeal
Cheese Wheel
4x Chunk of Salt Pork
6x Orange
Lemon
11x Plums
Dirt
Jug of Water]
All told, some good progress towards my Class, and a decent collection in my inventory to cover most eventualities on the road. I even noticed that my experience had gone up since the start of the day, but where was the notification?
[50 XP gained for joining a criminal enterprise.]
Ah, there it was. On that wonderful note, I finally tucked my head beneath the pillow, and was quickly out like a light.
