D-day.
I remain seated while I drink my booze with pretend interest. My eyes sweep on the new arrivals of the Guild Establishment, every one of them carries the air of a veteran. Of course, my observation may fail me, but the only thing I can rely on for now are my eyes as I lack the means to detect levels anymore.
The Guild Establishment is spacious and can accommodate a lot of Adventurers. The rumors travel fast, and so does the invitation of the mysterious employer by the name of Three, the pseudonym I am using when dealing with the native underworld of Fendra City.
With my amount of wealth, spreading the news is quite easy.
“When will that fucking employer show up? Is this job worth it?”
“Job? Must be something wrong on your noggins…”
“Eh? Ain’t someone said it is for a lucrative job?”
“Someone is selling Legacy Pathways… Dumbass…”
"Sell? Are you sure? It might be a reward for a job."
I overhear the murmur of the drunk and the interested. The allure of the advancing Legacy Pathways is of great significance to them. For players, it has the same allure for the power, bonus, and skills it brings. But for them, the people of Vanaheim, this Legacy is something that will change their fate.
In my brooding silence, I continue my observation. There are even a few lesser-named characters that I recognize among the crowd not limited to adventurers. There is a noble, even a fugitive, and a famous mercenary. They are the most notable among the bunch as their potential back in the Vanaheim I know is quite something else… If that is… they do not die early in the game.
They are great characters that also leave a mark on the history of Vanaheim.
However, they cannot compare to Sofalia. Her Destiny is something that the denizens of Vanaheim will come to fear and hate.
Suddenly, someone sits on my table carrying a chair of his own. “Hey, their friend…” Blonde hair, hazel brown eyes, and a fedora cap. I immediately recognize him… no, her… Tinel of Truth. She is a middling-named character who specializes in information gathering and has relatively impressive archery.
From what I remember, she has a pure rogue build that revolves around traps, sabotage, and stealth.
Tinel projects a handsome smile at me, trying to make herself as amiable as possible. “You look like among the strong ones… But I don’t know your name…”
Her special trait is that she can smell Truth in a literal sense, and can grasp information from a unique perspective. Among the unique appraisal skills, hers is among the best despite being inferior to combat against most Heroes of Vanaheim.
Players cannot learn appraisal skills. But now, I am not sure. It is because Appraisal abilities exist as Traits, a unique aspect of NPCs back when Vanaheim simply existed as a mirror for me.
“Why does a woman pretend to be a man?” I curiously ask, disregarding her leading words entirely.
Tinel flinches at my pointed question. “Is it that obvious?”
I nod. It is truly a weird phenomenon for me. Why do girls pretend to be boys? And vice versa? It doesn’t make sense. If it is for infiltration, I understand. But from what I know, Tinel back in the Vanaheim I know insists that she is a man which is weird considering that her circumstances don't warrant her to hide her gender.
The same is also true for players. Many of them use female avatars when in fact they are males, and also vice versa. The concept of gender and its meaning is getting lost on me.
Tinel simply stands up and leaves me on my own. I don’t understand.
Why did she leave?
Slowly, but surely, the visitors of the Guild Establishment increase. I have this place for myself for a whole day, but I will only start once the clock strikes 6:00 pm when I can be the strongest. I might be overcautious, but that is a hundred times better than losing control of the situation.
“It is time,” I whisper to myself as I glance at the wall clock.
Calculating inwardly and adjusting the levels of my skill, I prepare to cull the numbers of those that I will not need for Sofalia’s Order. I stabilize my breath, and using one restructured skill— I unleash a weaker Killing Intent to start testing the mettle of those who wish to be recruited.
***
Masculine, strong, and overflowing with testosterone— this is Tinel’s impression of the man drinking his booze in contemplative silence. She is never wrong when it comes to deducing information from others with but a smell.
Carefully approaching the man of interest, she warily breaches the man’s space by dragging her chair to him. Honestly, she is feeling scared of the nameless warrior, and that is only natural.
“Because… The smell of blood is so thick on him…”
Unfortunately, she cannot even get any information from him as she is left stumped by his question.
“Why does a woman pretend to be a man?”
It is headache-inducing. At first, she doubts her ears as she believes her disguise is verily believable to the point she cannot even smell any lies from herself. But the man can point it out so easily.
“It is my preference, I like it that way…” She can answer like that, but she chooses not to as she is not that shameless. But the truth is... she does like appearing masculine.
After dragging her chair back to her original table and friendly mixing with the crowd, she passively observes the others who are minding their own business. There are so many noteworthy characters among them which makes Tinel salivate on how much their information’s worth should be.
And if she sells their information to the right person, then its value will only increase.
There is the noble lady of Paraz with her escort knight. She seems to be idly standing to the side, patiently waiting for the meeting to commence. The Guild Establishment must be not to her taste as she tries to avoid sitting or even leaning against the wall.
It is surprising though that she manages to maintain such patience.
There is also that fugitive wearing a mask over his face. Tinel doesn’t know his identity, but it is a fact that his crimes of thievery are well-known outside Blumend. She wants to converse with the man, but his oppressive stillness serves quite a deterrent to others.
Lastly, there is that mercenary… Short gray hair, and red eyes, and uses a great sword. His albinism gives him quite a picture, and his cold look only helps to boost his image. Tinel hears of his feat of how he slays a Lesser Wyvern on his own.
In terms of combat power, the above-mentioned are superior to her.
If sudden combat occurs, Tinel has no choice but to bail out.
And then all too of a sudden, a dreadful smell reaches her nose. She freezes on her toes, and cannot even look around. But the feeling is their… One by one, the people inside the Guild Establishment drop and fall like flies.
It is a terrifying sight.
Is it poison?
No. Tinel quickly realizes the nature of the energy encumbering her shoulders with her Special Trait to smell the Truth— it is Killing Intent.
She is not unfamiliar with the term as most veteran martial practitioners use it as a method of slowing down their enemies and constricting their movement. But the Killing Intent hovering in the air is something else. Something different.
It is so strong and thick it is making people faint.
Tinel’s eyes wander around, her nose is of no use as the smell of death is too powerful.
She glances at the noble lady who is sweating hard and using magical reinforcement on herself. Despite all of her magic, she cannot help but fall to her knees. Her knight is long already on the ground, and Tinel cannot imagine the young lady’s turmoil. The fugitive wearing a mask is not in good shape either as he is using multiple artifacts to stabilize himself while leaning on the wall. The one with the best performance is the mercenary who remains standing, but judging by the bloody froth coming from his mouth, he must be forcing himself.
With all her might, Tinel turns her head around, and her eyes finally land on the lone figure of a man drinking his booze in a familiar contemplative silence. It hits Tinel hard— he is the source of the Killing Intent.
“All of you did well. I applaud your effort. Those who are still conscious, you passed.”
***
Killing Intent is a skill for crowd control. Now, I am using it as a method for recruitment. “I count ten of you. Excellent…”
Suddenly, someone bolts out from his lying position. He is wearing a hooded cloak, and while his steps are lethargic, he still has the speed that no normal person can catch up to. I recognize him as the most suspicious.
Before I even make a move, the fugitive who is leaning on the wall throws a dagger at the escaping hooded man, while the mercenary blocks the door.
“Impressive reaction… But what are their motives? Perhaps are they trying to build an impression for me?” I ponder to myself while I idly watch the events unfold. I admit my lack of understanding of social cues, but I understand that the two, mercenary and thief, must want to make a favorable impression.
I can sympathize as most often, it is also within my purview to farm likeness from particular NPCs.
The hooded man is quickly subdued, and I approach him. The fugitive wearing a mask removes the hood revealing a familiar face. It is a face I know when Vanaheim is only a game. “Master Spy, Jimon Katal, working for the prime minister of Blumend… What a surprise…”
I pick up a spoon, and I cloak it with my aura. With a swing, I behead the vulnerable spy. “Now, I only count 9… Not bad…” I sweep my gaze on the remaining conscious people, all of them standing from where they lie.
Tinel braves her way to speak up first. “Your lordship… Who are we working for?”
Everyone quickly understands their current situation, and Tinel is the fastest to quickly adapt to the rapid changes in their situation.
“You are all will be working for the future Queen of Blumend… Me...” Descending from the stairs is Sofalia’s figure and decorating her is a dark blue gown with a white sash. Her regal bearing and presence take over the atmosphere. “Looks like all of you have met my advisor already… I am a fair person. If you don’t want to join, then fine… But if you do… I can promise you… You will never regret it…”
I remain silent giving the stage for Sofalia to use. She asserts her authority, and with a few words, she immediately takes hold of her listeners. “I shall provide you with Legacy Pathways conducive to the path you follow. You only need to join…” Sofalia pauses giving rise to the tension in the air.
“Join-” She reiterates, emphasizing the price of power that the Ancient Legacies possess.
“The Order of Queenmaker.”
And so, she declares.
