"It won't happen again."

He is adamant. Very stubborn. I imagine this is what he feels like when dealing with me.

"You said that the last time and the first time this happened."

His lips are pursed tight, his arms folded and his eyes averted mine with deft. The complete package of a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar really.

Except, the proverbial cookie jar is…life.

Anselm is dead. Very much so, but through me he gets to live a fashion of a life. Not the exact thing, he gets to eat and it doesn't fall through his stomach, he gets to fight alongside me when I need him to, he even gets tired as well. He also gets several special powers that no other human I know of gets. He can fly, turn intangible and possess living things to some degree of success.

One thing he can't do is, well, live. His life is mine. The exchange for that is all the things he gets to do. I don't know what happens when a spirit decides to go into the light, to follow the Goddess Anera. But I do know what happens when a spirit refuses to do so, refuses to come to terms with their death.

They get left behind until…forever it seems. Unable to move from the spot they died, the spot they rejected the hand of a Goddess. They stay there for centuries to come until someone like me comes along. Someone with the power to offer them a fraction of life.

But then, what happens when someone like myself takes a spirit that rejected the hand of a Goddess and stayed put at the scene of their death for nigh centuries?

Withdrawal.

It started out very subtle, very quiet, so quiet I just thought that's how Anselm naturally was. But after months together, I realized he was doing something, or at least, trying to do something he couldn't and likely wouldn't for a long time to come.

He was trying to live.

The alarm bells started ringing when Anselm, on one of my eight-minute summons disappeared off to somewhere. I could feel the spell was active so I didn't bother summoning him again. And I was far too busy sorting through the many gifts the villagers of Ioina had laid at my feet to bother that Anselm wasn't close.

Well, a few hours later, at my next summon. He begged me to prepare to come with him some place but at the same time stay far, far away.

With my budding celebrity in the village I didn't want to do any of that. Not one bit. But I owe Anselm a lot. So, I did.

It turns out that he'd managed to snake a young lady's attention and even scheduled a date. Honestly my first thought was how impressive that was. Under eight minutes? Wow.

I did as I was asked and recharged him through out the date. I was happy for him, but it didn't take long for the obvious problem of their romance to rear its head.

He's dead. She's alive.

Telling Anselm, the truth, it hurt, it hurt him a lot. But he gave in and he never saw her after that.

And then, there's just a few moments ago. Trying to belong beside those soldiers, trying to fit in once again. He would have tried much harder if I hadn't pulled him aside.

Life wasn't for him anymore.

"I'll get it together, Asher. It wasn't even that bad. Just drop it."

I nod and we silently walk the rest of the day.

At night I'm quick to make camp. There's an unspoken sadness between Anselm and I. Once I'm asleep he'll go back to being ethereal.

But I try to give it some more time before exhaustion takes over.

"There are stars out tonight." I comment, trying to break the ice.

"Yes, yes there are." He replied just like I would if someone idly commented on how sunny it was.

So, I change my tactics. "Do you think Carbina village will be full of people like that man from before?"

"What, the elf?" I nod, "Well, I suppose so. Ioina wasn't spilling over with elves so I think Carbina will have the same rate."

Made sense. With the blatant discrimination, I'm not sure a small village would want a lot of elves around. At Ioina, Perlman had used them as recruitable cannon fodder to save his hide and then instead of being grateful, he kept up the punishments.

All this time I've been thinking about how bad Elsa could have it out there, but back at Ioina, if a new Mayor has been sent the discrimination and abuse of her kind is bound to continue.

"Do you want to save them? Elves."

"Of course, I do, don't you?" I throw the question right back at him.

"Not really, not actively at least. Elves have been enemies of humans for ages. If we're caught messing around and consorting with the enemy, we're going to have a target on our back, and then you'll die."

"I'll only die if I'm not strong enough to survive. I will be." My proclamation emphasized by a handful of grass thrown to the wind. "And people are allowed to take elven spouses."

"Yes, just one, not a whole gaggle of them. And you're planning on getting a whole lot of them." He mutters something about a nation of ridiculous under his breath and I can't help the smile that crawls on my face.

"Anselm, you'll see. The oppressed can be a very powerful foe and for people like me planning a ridiculous nation? The oppressed are the handy tools I'll require to come out on top."

He grunts and doesn't say another word. I'm sure he agrees, its sound reasoning proven by history time and time again. Unhappy people make new nations, sometimes it's an unhappy nation, other times it's the staple used to visualize what independence actually looks like.

I'm not sure what mine would be yet.

***

The sun, rude as ever, pierces through the thin fabric of the tent I set up and wakes me. It's another day journeying through the land. I break up camp and summon Anselm.

"I could've helped with that."

"I know, I'm only just realizing." I face-palm.

He chuckles and helps me with the last bit, stuffy the tent set up back into my bag/large satchel.

We travel on the path from morning through noon before I begin to notice something different.

"The path is clearer." Anselm says.

I smile, "I was just about to say the same thing."

"Must mean we're getting closer to some version of civilized society."

I can't help but snort at the way he says it, indoor plumbing hasn't even been invented.

We travel on for what feels like another two hours before we finally get a glimpse of civilised society as Anselm put it.

Ahead of us were several rows of farmlands, beset on each side of the formerly grassy fields. There are animals grazing somewhere around us, I can tell just by the sound of their mooing and bleating.

We walk further ahead and find there are two buildings planted far off from the path and behind some of the farmlands. It's no question really. I break away from the path, excited to meet another human.

"Hey! Stop! Theives! Sir its thieves!"

I'm sorry what? I turn around just in time to catch a man swinging a shear at Anselm. Deftly, I step in with my dagger drawn and parry.

"Ah! Please, please don't kill me!" the attacker yelps, falling to the ground, his hands raised in an automatic surrender.

"I'm not goin-"

Next thing I hear are gallops. I turn again and find a man riding a horse strait at us, complete with a spear in hand. And he's yelling a battle cry.

"Ugh. Death Grip." With a pinch of my ethereal necrotic grip, I pull the galloping horses hooves forward, resulting in a beautiful tumbling of both the horse and the rider.

"That looks painful."

"Get off my land you thieves, you cultists!"

"Cultists?" I might have sounded a bit too excited because the bruised rider narrows his eyes at us some more, suspicion pouring. "We're not cultists or thieves. Although I am looking to meet some Cultists."

"If you're neither then what you doing on my land huh?" the man is barely standing up straight, the fall must have really banged him up and I can't say the horse will be walking again.

"I'm a hunter. I'm hunting the Cult of Phien, and I and my friend here were just headed to that building over there to look for people who could direct me."

The man snorts, "If you travelled that path you won't be needing any direction, those crazies would have come up their rabbit burrows and kill you dead. Been that way all of Carbina."

"Oh, this is Carbina? I was directed here too. And we haven't encountered anyone but bandits on that path."

"This isn't Carbina, well, this isn't Carbina proper. You'll have to head in for the good looks." He says pointing back up north. "If you weren't attacked, I'd say you thank whatever God you pray to."

"Anera?" I say, entirely unsure what the right answer is meant to be.

"Sure, why are you asking me?" he blinks, "Oh that's right, you're hunting the Cult, you're part of the Following aren't you."

"Ah, no, I'm actually an independent hunter."

"Whatever, you hunt the Cult and you worship Anera, sounds like the Following to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get my horse up from whatever nonsense you did to it. Dang thing doesn't look like it'll walk again."

"Sorry about that, Sir."

"Whatever. Business is shit anyway. Can't afford its feed anyhow."

I hum to myself as the man from earlier goes on to help the farmer get the horse up. There seems to be a lot going on here.

I look to Anselm who'd been quiet all this time and find him smiling at the corn crops. I shake my head. Looks like we're having corn.

***

We asked if we could buy some corn but were quickly educated on how farms work. He isn't a retailer, he's the manufacturer, he'd only give out on charity and seeing as I may have as well killed his horse, he was short on charity as he wasn't demanding compensation for the accident.

So, we have to head into the village proper. A few minutes of walking and I realize all through it's just been farmlands, cattle ranches here and there, as well as the occasional stable. But this was all simply where these livestock were reared, not sold, not unless you wanted to buy a whole batch.

Despite the village having such a bolstering agricultural economy, it seems all the wholesalers; the farmers and ranchers were very unhappy with the way things were now. Business was not booming. No one had enough money to buy their livestock so they weren't making any profits and had fallen into deficits with the over production.

I didn't exactly understand how there could be an excess of food, mostly because in any era there is always a food shortage, there are always those starving. And I was one of said people starving, eating rats in caves and having to carry dead, stiff rats in my pockets just in case I don't find a good meal. Looking back, I wonder how my mind didn't absolutely break from all that.

But it wasn't until Anselm explained the problem that I truly understood what an over production meant. The farmers and ranchers weren't selling because no one was buying, and no one was buying because the roads weren't safe for traders or whole trade companies buying and transporting goods out of the village and elsewhere. Without this flow of coin and goods, Carbina farmers and ranchers were stuck running a deficit maintaining their overabundance of crops and livestock.

Why is this happening? The Cult of Phien.

We're both unsure why they let us through, maybe they weren't as strong as the ones in Arak village were. Or maybe they wanted to trap as many people in the village as possible, a possibility like this is one, I fear. Would I be able to fight back? I doubt it. And yet I must, worse yet, I have to seek them out and attempt to kill them for the glory of Lotar or something.

Well, I hadn't much choice in my growth options. I could always go fight some monsters, risking my life for some measly levels and drops? No, monsters didn't conveniently drop items here, their stiff, unmoving carcass was your reward.

Tah! Thinking about grinding aimlessly like that vexes me. Fortunately, I don't have to think on it long. My attention is torn away in marvel at the village before me.

Carbina is unlike any other village I've encountered. In place of a wide open 'Everyone come in' kind of gate, there is a stone walled entrance with a wood battlement over head where men are visibly patrolling, scouting ahead and keeping watch.

These men wore uniforms that vaguely resembled each other, it's nothing like the soldiers we met earlier but it's definitely better than Perlman's peasant patrol back at Ioina.

The guard greets me a warm welcome, his smile looks a bit tight but that's understandable given what's been going on.

"Welcome to Carbina village. You'll pardon the atmosphere here won't you? We've been beset by heretics." He says calmly, like he barely minded the fact that everything he said was upsetting.

I return his polite smile as he asks, "What will be your business here in Carbina?"

My business?

"Well, we're just travellers passing through, we might restock our supplies and get on moving, but mostly we're here to ask some questions regarding the Cult you spoke of?"

"The Cult? And whys that?"

"Well, we're hunting the Cult you se-"

"You're members of the Following? Praise Anera!" he exclaims, his smile stretching over his face into a grin, "You must come at once, the Mayor will want to speak to you at once!"

He takes hold of our hands and starts dragging us along, his action prompts more of his colleagues to come over and ask what's going on. He tells them, instantly stapling the Following all over us.

I don't mind the attention. It saves me time in garnering followers if I were to try summoning people's ghostly families again. But I doubt that'll be on my to-do list anytime soon. Not while I've got money anyway.

The inside of the village is beautiful. The path from before continues on and branches out around the corners made by the wooden homes. Some homes were made entirely of stone, others had only their base cobbled, but a majority are simple wooden homes with straw roofs.

I think I could safely assume that the stone homes belonged to either businesses or really rich people. Most of them had some extra space around the back that houses things like a small, personal ranch with one or two cattle, or a cabbage garden.

Everyone else seemed a bit busy which their own things, most of which was sweeping the front of their homes/business or just wandering…somewhere. Most of the denizens had a downtrodden look on their face, some were worse, an example being the man who cried out in anger whilst fixing a roof.

"Sorry, everyone is pretty frustrated about the trade block. Especially now since the new Mayor has been making some exciting changes to the village." Our self-appointed guide sighs, "Got my job because of Mayors idea for defence, but now I'm about to lose it because of that damned Cult." He curses colourfully under his breath.

He flashes me a smile, "But now you're here, you'll get rid of the Cult for us, won't you?"

Before I can get in that I am not in fact a member of the Following he goes on to proudly announce, "We're here! Our town hall, although now it's the Mayor's Office. She lives and works for the benefit of the town here." His voice is filled with adoration.

"That was fast." Anselm mutters.

"We're a small village trying to fill in the abundance of space we've been blessed with. Come in, I'll show you to the Mayor."

Meanwhile I'm still reeling over the fact that the Mayor is a woman. I honestly wasn't expecting gender equality so soon.

We walk into the large stone structure. It's filled with people, but more importantly it's filled with what are obvious luxuries. The knock of my feet on the floor disappears the instant I step into the hall. There's a red carpet splayed over the entire floor and ahead there's a long dinner table with many chairs and fruit baskets filled to the brim.

"You can take one," our guide mutters as he snatches what looks like a mango for himself, "Sometimes I spend my break here, just sitting around and eating fruit."

I give Anselm a disapproving look as he shines an apple on his sleeve before taking a huge bite out of it.

"Wait here, I've just got to speak with someone." Not waiting for a response our guide glides off up the stairs to speak with a scary looking woman. She's dressed surprisingly modern she wore a pale blue linen shirt, tied at the waist with puffed short sleeves over and ankle long brown skirt that fell just enough to reveal her matching brown boots. Peasant with a splash of 'hmm'.

I watch their interaction closely; he approaches her with a humble bow so she's definitely someone important. Their too far for me to hear their mutterings, certainly not with Anselm's loud chewing, but with the sidelong glances and the overall change in demeanour, I'm sure I can expect a warm welcome from her.

Our guide turns around and flashes us a grin and waves us over.

Once there I let the guide do the talking.

"Ah, this is…Oh wow, I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your names!" He pinches the back of his palm and gives it a good slap before asking our names properly.

"I'm Asher, Asher Taserman."

"I am Anselm." Anselm speaks matter-of-factly. He's been so disinterested today.

"Right then, Sir Taserman, Sir Anselm, this is the lovely lady Mathilda. She is the right hand of our wonderful Mayor."

The woman now known as Mathilda flashes me a smile, I notice her lips are an extra shade of pink and her eyes are a piercing green that blended well with the fall of red hair.

"Taserman," she muses, "A nobleman, are you?"

Nobleman? No, not yet at least.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I smile right back. She's sizing me up already. Fucking bureaucrats.

She snorts lightly, tilting her head in a sign of some recognition. "Well, the Mayor will want to see you. Wait here while I inform her of your presence will you, Sir Taserman." She doesn't give me chance to answer and simply waltz right out of the conversation.

Ah, hopefully I won't have to deal with that one.