After the shift, Hogg surprised Brin by meeting before lunch. Usually the people he worked for provided lunch, which would be bread and butter since it was the [Millers], but Hogg decided to take him to the public house.
“What’s this about? News about the… army?” he asked quietly.
“No, nothing new on that front. The others have all gone home. The scouts from the army and a few from Galan’s order have set up a camp at Travin’s Bog, but they’re more interested in hunting the monsters in the deep woods than actually searching for an army of undead. An army of ghosts, according to them. I’m keeping a couple mirror images on the case, but it’s a pain in my neck and someday I’d like to finally… well nevermind. No, nothing new. No, I wanted to talk about you. Your training.”
Brin pondered that as they walked. Why not just tell him back at home? Dancing around every little topic because of who might overhear made any conversation about System stuff painful unless they were sure they were alone. Unless… Hogg wanted someone to overhear. Maybe he wanted people to see him having this conversation with Brin.
Or maybe Hogg just wanted lunch. If Brin kept being so paranoid he was going to end up with a really weird Class, he just knew it.
The public house had pretty good stuff. Hela, the owner, definitely had cooking Skills. She might have also had Skills that let her predict customer needs, because she placed a steaming pile of honey glazed ham and vegetables in front of each of them only a moment after they sat down. Beer, too. Brin’s beer was heavily watered-down, but he still found it funny that they had no problem serving alcohol to children in this town.
He dug in, and the meat especially was delicious. It was spicy and sweet, although not exactly what he was expecting.
“I thought this was pork, but it tastes more like chicken,” said Brin.
“Chimera,” said Hogg.
Brin dropped his fork. “What?”
“Fascinating species. You never know what they’re going to be, except that they all have venom and they’re always a mash-up of at least two different things. This was some kind of scorpion bird. Why did you think I wanted to come in here so bad? Not everyday someone finds a chimera,” said Hogg.
Marksi took advantage of Brin’s distraction to slither down and pull the bite right off Brin’s fork. He then rolled off the plate and lay there, stomach bulging, looking very fat and happy.
“Can he eat this?”
“Once in a while is ok,” said Hogg.
“That sounds like no,” said Brin.
“He can eat anything you can eat. It’s just that meat takes a baby like him longer to digest. If he eats too much meat he’ll die of starvation. Weird, but true. He can eat one or two bites of steak just fine, though.”
Honestly, he should’ve guessed. Hogg wouldn’t have let Marksi anywhere near if there was actually a danger. He loved the little snake.
“So listen, your System Day is coming up. Just over six months from now,” said Hogg.
“Uh, check your math there chief. I just turned thirteen yesterday,” said Brin.
“You did what? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Honestly it’s been years since I celebrated my birthday,” said Brin. “I didn’t know it was a thing here.”
“Well it is. Lumina sent me something. Told me to give it to you on your birthday,” said Hogg.
“What is it?”
“You can see it when you get home,” said Hogg. “Now as I was saying. Your System Day is in six months–”
“Yeah, explain that,” said Brin.
Hogg snorted in annoyance. “Every year at spring solstice, everyone who has or will be turning fourteen that year has their System unlocked. We make a big party of it. The whole town will be there.”
“What? I didn’t know that! I thought it happened on your birthday!”
“Well, it would, except Hammon’s Bog has a Skill,” said Hogg.
“Towns can have Skills?” asked Brin.
“Obviously. You thought you were doing all this on your own? The Prefit manages them,” said Hogg. “Now, I know you were looking for Strength II before that happens, but I’m getting concerned your Dexterity is lagging behind.”
“Now that I think of it, they usually send girls to do the fine-motor-skill type jobs. How many of the girls my age are over 26 in Dexterity?” asked Brin.
“All of them,” said Hogg. “And that’s going to change. For the next six months, your education is going to be a lot more intentional. Less mindless labor, and a lot more learning directly from the adults in the town. Tomorrow, you’ll be visiting Toros, the [Smith].”
“That sounds awesome!”
“The day after that is [Weaver] Tawna.”
“Absolutely not.” Brin dropped his fork and folded his arms. The plate was completely empty by now, but he was sure the gesture still stood.
Hogg sighed, mashing a carrot with his fork. When it was pulped, he slid a little in Marksi’s mouth, who cleaned the fork with his tongue without moving from his laid back food coma position.
“You need to get over this. She’s the most influential woman in this town. Her time is extremely valuable and she’s doing you kids a real favor by teaching you lessons. She is not out to get you,” said Hogg.
“She’s one of the worst people I’ve ever met, and she is one hundred percent out to get me!” said Brin. “She calls me a pre-[Witch].”
“Shut it,” said Hogg. “That’s not a word you can use in this town.”
“I’m not the one who–”
“I said shut it.”
Brin stood up. “Alright. Thanks for lunch and all, but–”
“Hold on,” said Hogg. He didn’t elaborate right away. He looked down, seeming to chew something over before finally coming to a decision. “I was planning on heading over to the Peck’s. Why don’t you come along?”
“The Peck’s. As in, Siphani Peck? The…”
“The [Witch],” said Hogg. Apparently it was ok for him to say that word. “We’ll be helping her parents. If you... want to come along.”
Brin chewed on that a minute before he answered. He was still a bit annoyed with the way Hogg had shut him down just now, and the sudden shift in conversation threw him. Hogg looked a little hesitant, almost vulnerable. This was an olive branch, a chance for Brin to see why the W-word was such a taboo. He sighed and said, "Alright."
As if she'd been waiting for his answer, Hela appeared at their table with a covered basket, full of the same delicious chimera meat and vegetables they’d just eaten, from the smell.
The walk over to the Peck’s wasn’t long. Past the main thoroughfares with three story buildings with shops and businesses and painted signs, to the more run-down section of town towards the northern wall. The homes here were single story, many of them not any larger than the huts in Travin’s Bog. These at least had the advantage of not being burned down.
The particular house they arrived at would've looked better if it had burned down. The wooden beams making up the frame were warped and covered with mold. The siding had been painted white at some point, but was so patchy and chipped that it looked like it was suffering from leprosy. The houses around it had probably been built at the same time, for all that they looked at least a century newer. It was as if this house in particular were decaying at ten times the speed as the area around it.
A man sat on the front porch in a rocking chair. He had thin black hair without any gray, and he looked to be in his fifties, Hogg’s age. At the same time, the man in the rocking chair looked old, like he’d die of old age any minute now. It wasn’t any one thing, just the look in his eye. Brin recognized that look from some of the people he’d seen while visiting his grandma in the nursing home. It was the look of someone who was thoroughly done with life, whose spirit was already dead, and was just waiting for his body to catch up.
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“Afternoon, Micah,” said Hogg.
Micah’s eyes found Hogg, but he didn’t speak, and eventually those tired eyes fell back to the floor.
Hogg stepped past him into the house. Brin followed.
The smell hit him first. Marksi, who had better sense than him, squeaked and jumped off his shoulder and fled out the door, but Brin could only stand and stare. The house was a living, rotting pile of trash.
Discarded vegetable peels, eggs shells, and heels of bread with blue mold, were strewn about on the floor, intermingled with clothes, torn books, and dishes and jars. A large crystal bowl had clearly been used as a chamber pot, and not two feet away on the reclining chair sat a pale woman.
Brin hadn’t noticed her at first, because she didn’t stand out in any way from the other grime. She was wearing a thin, dirty nightgown. Her feet were black with mud, and her hands had stains he didn’t want to think about. She sat unmoving, and didn’t even bother to flick a finger when a fly crawled down her arm. She didn’t flinch when a rat chased a spider across the floor before disappearing into a burrow dug into the pot of a dead houseplant.
He knew what he was looking at. He’d seen this type of thing in the TV show about hoarders. There were hoarders who became that way because they couldn’t throw things away, and others who simply would not or could not clean up after themselves. This woman was clearly in the second camp. The only difference was that the pile of trash was only inches deep, instead of mounds that went to the ceiling. Clearly someone came by to clean often enough to prevent that. No, the biggest difference from the TV show was the smell. Nothing had prepared him for the smell.
He jumped when the woman spoke. Her voice was disturbingly normal-sounding. “Oh, Hogg, hello. Pardon me if I don’t get up. Is that chimera I smell? It smells wonderful. So kind of you.”
“That’s right. Afternoon, Effa,” said Hogg. “Here, let me fix you a plate.”
He eyed the table, also covered with detritus, then shrugged and swept it all to the floor with his arm. He put the basket on the table and brought out a clean plate, and started to pile it with food, then handed it to her on the chair.
Effa dove in as soon as the plate reached her lap, forgoing a fork and knife to scarf everything down with her dirty hands. Brin almost threw up at the sight. How could you eat in a place that looks like this? How could you eat with your own poop in a bowl two feet away from you?
When Hogg handed him another plate for Micah, he dashed out of the house in relief and gulped a big lungful of fresh air the second he crossed the threshold.
Micah ate much more sedately, but also much more cleanly. He didn’t make any noises of appreciation, just chewed mechanically, eyes listless.
When he was done, Brin took his plate, and steeled himself, ready to go back in.
“We would’ve given that girl anything,” said Micah.
The statement was so matter-of-fact, and so out of the blue, that Brin didn’t know how to react. Obviously it was a tragic situation, but the suddenness made it hard to summon a lot of empathy. He tried regardless.
“I’m sorry,” said Brin.
“If only she’d asked,” said Micah. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I get it,” said Brin.
“No. You don’t understand. We would’ve done anything for that girl.”
“I’m sorry,” said Brin. He didn’t know why he was apologizing. He hadn’t done anything wrong; this was all Siphani’s fault. If anything, he was due an apology. Siphani was the one who’d poisoned this town against orphans. It was a lot of the reason he had such a hard time fitting in with some people. Myra had outright said that’s why she and her mother hated him.
Micah didn’t say anything more. He stared out into the distance with glassy eyes.
Brin took his plate and went back inside. Hogg was piling trash from the floor into a sack, chatting. “It was a nice morning. A little warm, but a cool breeze from the east beat that back to make perfect weather for a nice stroll into town. That cool breeze will get stronger and stronger, I think, until winter comes with the rains…”
He talked lightly, unmoved by the filth around him. It was so unlike Hogg that Brin did a double take.
Effa’s responses seemed disingenuous as well. She talked like a normal woman would talk to her neighbor. Not like a mentally sick person at all, with no acknowledgement of her disgusting circumstances. Also left unsaid was the fact that Hogg had killed her daughter.
When Hogg noticed Brin, he handed him the burlap sack, and Brin took it, relieved to be out of there again. Everyone brought their organic waste to one of the mulching pits near each of the gates, for farmers to use if they wanted. Brin might’ve walked a little slower than he normally would’ve, but not by much.
As disgusting as it was, this was good work. Important work. Back in his old world, they just let hoarders waste away until they died or got evicted. It was good that people were watching out for the Pecks.
It also made some things click in place about this town. Sure, he’d heard Siphani’s story, but he’d never really understood it until now. There had been a shadow over this town since he’d come here, but now he knew why. It was like he’d finally looked up and seen the big black Siphani-shaped cloud covering the sun.
When he grew up and proved that he was a good man, nothing like their old [Witch], maybe that would finally serve to pierce that ugly old cloud.
He got back, and Hogg had the sink running, washing dishes. This house had enchantments to give them running water in the kitchen area, which meant they weren’t poor. They just lived poorly.
There was another sack ready for Brin to take, and this time he made the trip there and back much more quickly.
When he got back, he helped Hogg with the clutter. They put the books back on the bookshelf and made the bed. Brin washed the clothes with a washboard in the sink, then hung them up to dry on a line outside. When everything else was done, they scrubbed the floor, scouring a layer of dirt to find the wooden floorboards beneath. He slept on actual dirt floors in Travin’s Bog that were cleaner than this place had been. But now it was as clean as a whistle.
Brin stood and wiped the sweat from his face, eyeing the newly cleaned room with pride. Effa didn’t thank them. She’d started ignoring the both of them a half hour ago. She was a rotting queen on her throne, unheeding of the scurrying of her servants. Well, he didn’t care. He couldn’t fix her brain, but he was doing what he could.
He didn’t get any notifications. The System didn’t make any indication that it had noticed their efforts and didn’t try to reward them. It would probably only take a week or two for the Pecks to recreate the disgusting mess they’d just cleaned up. Regardless, Brin felt more accomplished walking home that afternoon than he ever had after an evening spent lifting weights.
The walk home was a quiet one. Marksi found them as soon as they were a fair distance away from the Peck’s house. Hogg picked him up and stroked him up and down the spine. Brin didn’t object. Hogg needed Marksi more than he did, considering where his mental state must be right now.
Brin was full of questions, but didn’t know how to ask. How did you walk up to someone and ask them about the time they killed a teenage girl? Well, if Hogg didn’t want to talk about it, he’d just say so. He wasn’t the type to be pressured into anything.
“How did it happen?” Brin asked.
Hogg responded immediately, like he’d been hoping for the question. “After she cursed her parents, she ran into the forest. She moved quickly, and though a few [Hunters] could track her, no one could catch her. You understand? Not even me. But then I broke away from the rest of the group and… somehow caught up with her.”
A mirror image. No one was nearby, but Hogg wasn’t going to say that out loud, not in town where someone might possibly overhear.
“Then how did she die?” Brin asked.
“I snuck up on her and put a knife to her throat.”
An illusory knife. A bluff, Brin filled in mentally.
“I made her swear an Oath, on her Class and Levels. I had the wording all worked out beforehand to make it foolproof. I think I knew from the very start that it would end up that way. I made her swear to never use her [Witch] powers to harm or deceive another person. She swore to not even attempt it, to limit all her offensive magics to beasts or monsters.”
“When I lowered the knife, she immediately broke her Oath. I think she thought that she could get away with one last curse and take me down with her, but it didn’t take. Before she could do a thing, the System took it all away. Then she… she drowned herself in a pond. I couldn’t stop her in time.”
Because he hadn’t really been there in person. His mirror image had stood there helpless, and watched.
Chances were even if Hogg had been able to fish her out of the pond, the town still would have burned her at the stake. In this world, they did not suffer [Witches] to live.
“I got the notification for it. You have defeated: Human. Level 1,” said Hogg. “Didn’t even get the experience for her. Breaking her Oath took it all away. Old battlefield tactic, that.”
“That’s clever. Any Oath will do?” asked Brin.
“Most soldiers swear a backup Oath before going into battle, just in case. They’ll swear to never say Dandelion three times in a row, something like that. It can also grant you mercy if you’re too wounded to survive, but too tough to die quickly,” said Hogg.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Brin.
“Nothing someone your age needs to worry about.”
“One thing I’ve been wondering, now that we’re on the topic of battles and armies, is why they don’t use [Witches]. If they’re so powerful, then why doesn’t everyone have one?” asked Brin.
“How do you know she’ll do what you say?” asked Hogg.
“Make her swear an Oath.”
“And how do you know she swore an Oath to you, instead of bewitching you to make you only think she did? How do you know the [Witch] in your army serves the general, instead of the other way around? And saying she does serve, how do you know she’s trying to keep her soldiers alive, when their deaths will serve her magic even better? You’d have to be mad. Or truly desperate.”
“There’s also the possibility that [Witches] are more common than you think,” said Brin. “The smart ones would stay hidden.”
“That’s possible,” said Hogg. “But the psychopathy and narcissism that would motivate someone to take the [Witch] Class in the first place also selects for people who aren’t good at hiding their ambition. To be fair, I should add that there is one exception. There is one nation where a [Witch] fights openly with the army. The Queendom of Arcaena.”
“Let me guess. The Queen is the [Witch],” said Brin.
“Got it in one. And even she kills every other [Witch] she finds. She knows better than anyone that you can’t trust a [Witch]. You know, Lumina and I talked about her a lot, before she left for home. Lumina is starting to discard the Burrow City theory. If there’s a million angry undead out there, then where are they? From what we’ve seen, we’re fighting a smaller, smarter, highly trained, more specialized, and most of all more restrained group of undead.”
“You call that restrained?” asked Brin.
“Compared to the way most [Witches] behave? Extremely. And that suggests Arcaena.”
“What does it mean if it is her we’re up against?”
“I don’t know. I barely understand what a low-level [Witch] can do. Arcaena is ancient. She has a kingdom full of people who literally worship her. If she really does have her eyes on the Boglands, then she’ll be able to take it. Let’s just hope it’s not her.”