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Soulweaver 153: Sir Grug
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 20:06:25 +0000 UTCWe ran for the temple, hoping to get out of the rain. Because for all our stats and abilities, pouring rain still sucked and I had the sneaking feeling it always would. Unless I Initialized an energy umbrella or something. An idea for later, maybe…
For now, we were happy to find refuge within Dominion’s temple’s halls. The thunderous rain diminished to a background white noise as we stepped inside, fully expecting the same slew of congratulations and questions from the temple staff as last time.
What we got instead were a bunch of pretentious-looking pricks breathing down our necks, looking very much like they had a bone to pick.
“Where have you been?” One of them, a man wearing a long braided beard and far too much gold, asked. His tone and expression both made it sound like he had better things to do. That he was humoring us just by his very presence.
“Clearing the Trial, obviously,” I said, feeling more than a bit peeved, but letting his attitude slide on account of him wearing Sinclair’s official robes.
“Clearing the Trial? After you’ve only just returned from the Cataclysm Dungeon?” The man asked incredulously. “ In the days and hours before your scheduled procession through the city? Do you have any idea how much work has gone into making this event a resounding success?”
“Uh, I can guess?” I said, scratching my neck. I was starting to feel a little guilty. Maybe.
A middle-aged woman next to him snorted. “Doubtful. It’s more than you lot can imagine. And the main cast just happens to disappear into a dangerous Trial mere days before? What if you’d died? Could you imagine the outrage?”
So, they’re more worried about the inconvenience to them than my livelihood. Good to know!
“Well we’re here now, aren’t we?” I said, trying to be the bigger person. “What does the Baron need us to do?”
“Get prepared!” the man barked. “You’re to report to the castle at once. As for the rest of your party…”
“They’ll be treated to the nicest guest accommodations the castle has,” I said, leveling a stare at the man. “Won’t they?”
“Yes, yes. Fine Now, please, hurry. I’ve had no end of complaints about your disappearance.”
Without another word, the entourage turned and left, entirely oblivious to the stares they received from the templars.
“Don’t they ought to escort us there, or something?” Richard asked. “Thought that was how these things normally went.”
“Yep,” I muttered. “Pretty sure they were. Whoever Mr. and Mrs. Stick-Up-Their-Pants were, I hope we never meet again.”
Aerion snorted, before immediately covering her mouth, eyes darting around the temple.
I barely suppressed a smile.
“Alright, sounds like we’re expected at the manor,” I said, turning to Rogar and Philip. “You guys are welcome to come along, but I’m guessing this will be a bore…”
“Oh, really?” Rogar began. “Well, in that case, we—”
“We wouldn’t dare intrude,” Philip said, cutting the blacksmith off. “We’ll be more than content to watch the procession like the others. Won’t we, Rogar?”
“Oh, er, sure?” Rogar replied, looking very confused about Philip’s words.
“Sounds good to me. Meet up after?”
“Count on it!” Philip said. “We’ve got alehouses to raid.”
I laughed. “You guys do that. Aerion? Best register our delve on that tablet thing like last time, because we definitely don’t want to keep the baron waiting.”
“Oh, I already did when you all were chatting,” Aerion said, flashing me a grin. “Though since we never officiated our party, the others will need to register on their own.
That was Aerion for you. Sneaky and smart.
“Never was one for such fanfare,” Richard began, but Rogar and Philip’s stares made him cough. “Though, I suppose I ought to, shouldn’t I? Wouldn’t want to upset any gods…”
And so, the three of them wandered over to the stone and registered in turn. From what Aerion had said, being mentally transported to Dominion’s avatar was quite the experience. One I was happy to forego. It was better for me if Aerion got all the attention. For now, anyway.
“Well, guess it’s time,” I said, realizing I could stall no longer. “Let’s go be paraded around like trophies!”
— —
“Ah! You’re here!” Baron Sinclair said the moment we entered his waiting room in Basecrest’s manor. “I must say, the next time you decide to delve a Trial, please do let me know? I’m not as young as I used to be. Not sure my heart can take the abuse.”
“We’ll uh, be sure to do that,” I said, exchanging glances with Aerion. We’d completely forgotten to tell the Baron we’d be gone.
Oops.
“Well, now that you’re here, I’ve some good news. Very good news, in fact,” Sinclair said, gesturing for us to sit.
We did so, taking seats beside one another at the square wooden table in the center of the room.
Almost as soon as we sat, butlers emerged, serving us both hot black tea.
“From the highlands of Order’s territory!” Sinclair said, making me raise a brow.
“Order, you say?”
“Only the finest!” Sinclair beamed, clearly proud of himself.
So Order’s land had the best teas, huh? I suspected that wasn’t the only thing they were known for.
I glanced at Aerion, who looked down. My girlfriend had been keeping secrets. We definitely needed to talk later. About this and so many other things.
“So, what’s the good news?”
“Without further delay, I am pleased to announce the bestowal of the title of Knight for your efforts defending Basecrest, both against domestic threats, and against the Cataclysm Dungeon that besieged us.”
“That’s wonderful!” Aerion said, looking star struck.
“It was approved?” I asked, sipping my tea. Sinclair was right. It was delicious. “I thought you said the chances were slim.”
“Indeed, indeed. But this city would no longer stand were it not for the two of you. I’ve forged strong connections over the years. I’m simply happy they came in useful this time around.”
So Sinclair twisted arms and called in favors to make this happen, huh? I felt a little guilty, but then again, he was right. Sinclair wouldn’t have a city left to govern if we hadn’t helped.
“That’s amazing,” I said genuinely, wondering if I’d be called Sir Greg everywhere I went. Or, more likely, Sir Grug. I barely suppressed a groan. “So, what does this entail, exactly? You’ll have to forgive us. Neither of us have been nobles before.”
Aerion’s eyes flitted to mine before glancing away. It was a small motion that most wouldn’t ever notice. Not unless they happened to be admiring her blue-green eyes at the time.
That one, tiny gesture told me more than Aerion ever had until now.
She was a noble.
Not a shocking revelation, all things considered. Aerion was well versed in etiquette and was far too skilled for a commoner her age. Such education did not come cheap. If my understanding was right, things like etiquette weren’t even offered at all unless you were of sufficient social status, no matter the coin.
“As we both mentioned, we don’t want our activities restricted,” I said, shelving Aerion’s social status aside for now. “If there’s any obligation…”
“Quite the contrary, I assure you,” Sinclair said. “The title comes with a land grant, though being the lowest noble title, the area is correspondingly small. I did ensure that your grants are next to each other, however.”
That got me listening.
“How big are we talking? A field? A village?”
“With the two plots combined, perhaps closer to that of a small village,” Sinclair said. “Though your particular territory has no structures on it, as of present. Nor any residents, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed. It’d never have been that easy. No town to collect taxes from or shops with steep discounts for the owners… Though maybe that was for the best. Last thing we wanted was to inherit a poorly functioning town with rampant crime that would leave us bankrupt. “And where exactly is this plot?”
I was all but certain it’d be somewhere in the ass end of nowhere.
“About a half-day’s ride from Dominium,” Sinclair said, puffing out his chest. “I fought hard on your behalf to ensure the location was desirable.”
My mouth hung open for a moment. “That’s… actually amazing. And how big of a plot are we talking?”
“Yes, well…” Sinclair wrung his wrists, his previous confidence gone without a trace. “Being such prime land, I’m afraid they’re on the smaller side. About five hectares, apiece.”
I drudged up some memories from my farming simulator days. A hectare was a bout a hundred yard square, so two plots side by side would be roughly the equivalent of a kilometer by a kilometer.
By medieval standards, where land was vast, that wasn’t much at all. By modern standards? Practically an empire.
“And this land is ours to do with as we please?” Aerion asked, flashing me the barest sliver of a grin. “If, for example, we wished to use it to practice new techniques?”
Seriously? Was she reading my mind or something? That was literally the first thing my mind jumped to.
“Indeed, such usage would be well within your rights,” Sinclair said. “I won’t lie, the expectation is that you develop the land, either by farming or attracting settlers. With your reputations, I daresay you’ll have an easier time of it than most.”
“Sounds like a lot to manage,” I said. “Sounds like exactly the sort of thing that could become the sort of burden we’ve been hoping to avoid.”
“Unless we delegate,” Aerion said. “If we can get people to construct productive facilities like shops and mills, we could levy a tax. And when issues arise, our governor would handle them.”
I frowned, thinking it over. “S’ppose we could even have people manage our training facilities. Hell, maybe we offer it to others for a charge…”
I was never a business owner back on Earth, but I had played several games that simulated economies. Oftentimes, the best way to getting rich wasn’t to do the heavy lifting yourself, but to buy or build factories or properties that generated passive income. And while our recent exploits had netted us quite a tidy sum, at the rate we were burning through it, it wasn’t gonna last forever.
Or even a few months. And besides. Wasn’t it every gamer’s dream to build a kickass home base of operations?
My interest was piqued and I leaned in closer. “Tell us the details. Every single one. Leave nothing out. If I have to endure being paraded around, the least I can do is distract myself with how I’m gonna build up my own personal empire.”
I must’ve let my diabolical scheming reach my face, because Sinclair suddenly looked a lot less sure of himself.
The Baron dabbed the sweat off his brow with a cloth. “It would ah, be my pleasure.”
