Playing God

Three days later, I stumbled out of the woods toward a small hamlet. I’d been lucky enough to find a track, cartwheel ruts still fresh in the mud. Luckier still to have raised my new Hunting skill to four, courtesy of a particularly dumb pheasant and a brace of rabbits that had carelessly fallen into my ill-made snares one night.

It was the little things in life that kept the joy flowing.

I’d even unlocked a new skill: Wilderness. It was already up to three, and I could now make campfires. Turns out, I’d been right about the flint and steel, though it had cost me the sharp edge of my dagger.

Yet despite these triumphs, I was in a mess. My arm was infected, I was sure of it. Puffy, red, and oozing stuff I really didn’t want to look at. And my stomach was cramping, probably from the rabbit I’d eaten the day before. Maybe I hadn’t cleaned it thoroughly, even though I’d roasted the hell out of it. Or maybe it was the water I’d drunk.

Either way, I needed help.

Hopefully, this hamlet would offer me a few days' rest, some healing, and a plan. As I staggered past a couple of folks working in a field, they paused to straighten up, watching me with wary eyes. A boy ran ahead toward the collection of houses, barely sparing me a glance. By the time I arrived, a group of residents—seven men and five women—were waiting for me. No kids in sight. Not a great sign.

I forced a smile. “Greetings to you all.”

“Afternoon,” one of the men responded, chewing on a blade of grass as he ran his eyes over my battered leathers, pausing on the rapier at my side. “Passing through, are yer?”

In other words, fuck off.

I nodded, doing my best to keep my tone calm. “I’m not looking to stay long, have no fear.”

All the men tensed, and the leader sniffed. “There’re seven of us an’ one of you. ’Ain’t no fear ’ere.”

I shrugged, wincing as my arm twinged. “I meant nothing by it. Merely an expression, where I’m from.”

He gave me a long look, then nodded toward my arm. “Nasty wound yer have there.”

I glanced down at my left arm. There was no doubt it had got worse. I’d been wearing my jacket over one shoulder, unable to get my arm through the sleeve. “Well, a day or two’s rest and a few healing herbs, and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I tried another smile. “Do you think you could help me with that?”

He spat the blade of grass to the ground. “One of the women’ll give yer some ’erbs. But you can’t stay ’ere.” He shook his head. “’Ain’t a good time t’ ’ave strangers aroun’.”

The message was clear enough. "I understand. Some herbs would be appreciated. Maybe one of you could show me what plants to gather so I can manage on my own." I added a little incentive. "Then I'll be on my way."

The man narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “We could see to tha’.”

“Thank you.” Knowledge was more valuable than the herbs, but both were a gift.

A young woman stepped forward, sizing me up. She had a pretty face, though not a patch on Lira’s beauty. “I’ll do it, Grif. And I’ll give our visitor a meal, too. He looks like he could do with one.”

“Thank you again.” I bowed my head, grateful for more than I’d expected when I'd seen them arrayed against me. "I’ll leave you in peace afterward. You have my word."

Grif snorted. “A stranger’s word carries little weight around ’ere, but we’ll be grateful to yer if yer keep yours.”

Etiquette has gained a rank. Etiquette is now level 2.

I followed the girl to one of the huts, a rough structure of interwoven branches with a grass roof. Inside, it was simple but clean. Two sleeping pallets lay beside a small hearth, where an elderly man was snoring softly.

“My father,” the girl said, noticing my glance. “He’s not been well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The girl cocked her head. “You speak funny. You’re not from around ’ere, are you? What’s yer name?”

“Kaelan,” I smiled. “And no, my home isn’t anywhere close.”

“Fran. Nice to meet yer, I ‘spose. Don’t mind Grif and the men; they’re just jumpy ‘cause of the news about Norathil falling to that bastard Drakos.”

“Do you get much news around here?” I asked guardedly. Was my name known? No, it couldn’t be … I’d only ever told it to Lira. My description, though … that was a different matter.

“Not much. Only when someone passes through, which ain’t often.”

I relaxed. But then, I’d come directly here. The chances someone who had seen me fight had also wandered this way so soon were remote. I’d been worrying for nothing.

“Thank you for helping me,” I said instead.

Fran shrugged and placed a pot of water on the hearth. “No bother to help someone in need. I’m sure you’d do the same.”

It was like every girl in this world was digging the knife in and twisting it. “I will do, just as soon as I’m up to the challenge.”

Fran shot a look my way, frowning slightly. “That’s a funny way of phrasing it, but … I ‘spose the sentiment is true.” She nodded, as if deciding I was acceptable to her. “Take your jacket off, then. And that shirt.”

Shrugging the jacket off my good shoulder, I draped it over the empty pallet. The shirt was trickier, and I winced as my injured arm protested. It was definitely worse than a few days ago.

“Will this stop the infection?” I asked.

Fran studied my arm, her brow creased in concentration. Her touch was gentle, yet every prod sent sharp pains through the wound. “Hmm,” she murmured. “I’d say the chances are good. The bone looks unharmed, and your leather armor probably kept it from being worse.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great to hear. You really know your stuff.”

She smiled warmly. “I’ve always enjoyed healing. Most folks here come to me when they’re hurt. Broken bones, farming injuries, you name it—picks through feet, spades through hands.”

Fran busied herself near the hearth, tossing herbs into the boiling water from her stockpile. While she worked, I couldn’t resist the urge to pull up her character sheet.

 

I blinked. That was wholly unexpected … and flattering. But I also felt guilty; it felt a bit invasive. Who knew being a God came with these morally gray moments?

It was irritating that I lacked the knowledge to see her Secondary attributes. Also, given that she’d agreed to show me medicinal herbs, she must have the Herbology skill, yet it wasn’t showing. My understanding of the system was still patchy.

After a few minutes, Fran pulled the herbs from the pot with a ladle, transferring them onto a muslin cloth. “This poultice should pull the infection out in a day or two,” she said, securing it to my arm with another strip from my long-suffering shirt. “I’ll show you the herbs so you can gather more if you need to.”

“I’m in your debt,” I said sincerely. “Thank you.”

She gave a shy smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

We headed into the forest, Fran pointing out plants as we went. “Yarrow,” she said, gesturing to a feathery green plant. “Stops bleeding and treats wounds.”

“Yarrow,” she said, pointing to a plant. “Used to stop bleeding and treat wounds.”

You have gained a new skill: Herbology. Herbology is now level 1.

I smiled. “Perfect. Just what I wanted to know. Are there others?”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Dozens.”

We continued, and soon she stopped again. “Chamomile,” she said, showing me a flower that looked like a daisy. “Good for an upset stomach. And here’s Echinacea,” she added, pointing to a wild pink flower. “That’s in your poultice—great for infections.”

Fran stuffed a few more herbs into her dress pocket before moving on. “Comfrey,” she said, pointing to a weedy shrub with purple flowers. “It’s for cuts and scrapes, and also in your poultice.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” I replied, genuinely fascinated. “This is really helpful.”

Fran smiled again, clearly pleased. “Thyme,” she said, showing me another plant. “It fights infection and helps clear the lungs when you inhale the steam from the boiled leaves. And here, wild garlic—you can eat the leaves.”

It was a while before she’d finished showing me all that could be discovered in the forest. My Herbology had risen to four, and Foraging had gained two ranks. Out of curiosity, I pulled up Fran’s info card:

 

So, she did have Herbology, just as I’d suspected, but it hadn’t shown up until I had enough knowledge myself – and maybe because I’d seen her use it. Attraction had risen as well, even though my shirt was still on.

Was it really wrong to gather this kind of insight? I wasn’t creating feelings that weren’t there … just seeing what already existed. Still, it was a little unsettling.

Besides, Fran was a lovely girl, but it was Lira that filled my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I said to her when we returned to her hovel. “You’ve been more helpful than you could possibly imagine.”

Fran smiled softly. “It’s no trouble. Most folks here already know this stuff.”

An idea struck me. “Do you know much about the area?”

“A fair bit. Why?”

“Are there any dungeons nearby?”

Fran cocked her head, looking confused. “You mean, like in castles?”

“No, I mean places where monsters are found—crypts, tunnels, caves … that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” Her expression shifted as she considered. “Not around here, no. But I’ve heard of a place to the northeast. Goblins and kobolds. Rats as big as dogs.” She shuddered. “Awful place.”

I grinned. “Sounds perfect. Could you give me directions?”

She frowned. “Why would you want to go there?”

“Just doing what I can to help.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “I’d be very grateful.”

“Oh, alright. Travel northeast for about four days. Look for a village called … er … Fernwick. I think that’s what the traveler said.”

I left that afternoon, wanting to keep my word to Grif and not inconvenience Fran further. Besides, it was warm enough to sleep outdoors comfortably, my arm felt much better, and I was eager to start the journey.

A village near a dungeon? It was exactly what I’d been hoping for.

Power and wealth awaited.