Chapter 490

490 Hot Iron, Please?

When they arrived, there were three of them, all in the colors of the clergy. I scrolled my reticule over them.

[Alderman, Politician, Preacher]

[Politician, Spy]

[Conman, Gossip, Politician, Preacher]

Hey, why was I seeing people’s social classes?

[Anthropologist: level one, Industrialist: level one, Truthspeaker: level one]

Anthropologist? The class name conjured up images of dusty old academics, traveling the world to ... learn about other cultures.

Okay, guilty. I guess I was an Anthropologist.

I scrolled my reticule over Malkin.

.....

[Social Classes Hidden.]

Okay, I should have expected that. Wait.

[Politician, Spy]

If there were any social class that should be able to hide from plain sight, it would be Spy. In fact, there it was in level one, called [Not A Spy]! And there were later improvements that made it harder to detect.

Good to know, if I bumbled into Spy levels later on.

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But, since I’d practically been told I was on trial, again, I dismissed the whirling System prompts. For their part, the three were shooting each other knowing looks, their expressions changing as though...

System group. They were chatting with each other in a System group channel.

Malkin waited patiently, and I did no such stupid thing.

I yawned, and stretched (mostly my legs, I suspected I’d be running soon and fast and long), and carefully limited my pacing. After all, Tigrin was still there with his pain stick.

The sun was clear of the Twelve Daggers, and was still rising. The background hum of the circle (inaudible to most people) made the slow rise feel like something that took effort. Like the electricity of the supernatural were slowly pushing the burning disk to the roof of the sky.

“Very well, then.” Alderman said. “Let us being this process.”

“Brother Malkin,” Conman said, “please do elaborate.”

“Oh, it’s a simple matter.” Malkin said. “I have brought this boy in for two purposes. The one less likely to kill him is heresy.”

“No surprise there.” Spy said. “Is there... evidence of heresy this time?”

“I submit his very soul, clearly marked as one favored by Loki.” Malkin said.

Their eyes became unfocused.

“My niece once showed me a scribbleboard that looked like that.” Conman said.

The other priests chuckled. Malkin was not amused. “At the very least, we should burn his aura clean of such misleading marks.”

Spy was the first to speak. “While within our powers to do, they are OUR powers.”

“WE shall be the ones to determine what must be done.” Alderman said. “They are, after all, OUR powers.”

“Of course, exalted ones.” Malkin said. “I am but a servant of Loki’s will, all praise be his.”

“The only butt about you,” Spy said, “is the one we’ll see when you’re walking away.”

“Brother.” Conman said. “That was ill-spoken. Each of us is among the faithful, and the blessed.”

“I blame the early heat of this forsaken land.” Alderman said. “Please, let us proceed before we need to send for water. Or food.”

Malkin sighed. “Alas, this shall be over before lunch. In the interests of haste, though, the second charge upon this benighted creature is that it dares to be a shapeshifter, specifically a Kelpie.”

Alderman laughed; Spy smiled openly; Conman was squinting at me as though I’d fallen into a pit of feces recently.

Maybe next time some inquisitor or other abducted me, I should request time to shower?

“Well, that’s easy enough.” Spy said. “Truthspeaker. Are you capable of changing forms?”

Crap. “Yes.” I said, “But the process is neither quick nor painless.”

“See?” Spy said, “Honesty, even when such means death.”

Wait? DEATH?

“May it please you, brother,” Malkin said, “I think we have other uses for this monster, before we burn it at the stake.”

“By changing forms, a power reserved for the gods, it commits blasphemy with every breath it takes.” Conman said.

“Or we could burn its soul away.” Spy said. “Probably faster than physical fire.”

Alderman sighed. “A reminder of the good we bring this land in the form of a public burning...”

Spy rolled his eyes. “How long would it take to gather enough wood?”

“Not long.” Malkin said. “There is spare wood at all of our lumberjacking camps. It would be easy to just burn him.”

“I like the sound of easy.” Spy said.

“And public.” Alderman said.

“And being done with this stain of a soul.” Conman said. “So,” and he sighed deeply, “Tell us what use you would have for such a thing.”

“If we were to permit you to spare it, if only for a time.” Spy said.

“We have artistically drawn images of the unholy one.” Malkin said.

“Which unholy one in particular?” Alderman asked. “We have so many of them to choose from.”

“The unholy one,” Malkin said. “The Beast. The Serpent of Achea. The judged and damned. The...”

“You think if we torture this one, that the Beast will come for him?” Conman asked.

“Well, no.” Malkin said. “I don’t think that they have that manner of bond.”

“Out with it, then.” Alderman said. “I can just say that this one has the Eyes of the Beast and we can burn him on a pyre.”

“Or,” Malkin said, “We use this one as our Beast, to draw the other one to us.”

“Do I get a voice to disapprove of this plan?” I asked.

“No!” Conman said. “Now YOU shut up, or we’ll have you stuffed and gagged.”

“If you need to speak, it will be because we ask you a question.” Alderman said.

I spread my hands to indicate helplessness. Not, as I’d mentioned before, that I was anything resembling such a state.

I took a look around at the guards. Spear, spear, axe, sword... only two of them had bows. There weren’t even a dozen of them. If only I could find their Might scores. Huh, that Axeman was also a Poet. I wouldn’t have guessed.

“No,” Malkin said. “I mean that if this one pretends to be the Beast, how will the Beast itself feel about that? It can hide for now, but can it afford to keep hiding if we control what people think it’s saying?”

“I miss why we need this Beast to spread such lies.” Conman said.

“Having a public face to match the words does lend them more weight.” Alderman said.

“What words would we use?” Spy asked. “Remember, the Beast is supposed to be killed on sight.”

“Hrm.” Conman said. “What if we produce a suitable corpse, claim that the Beast is dead?”

I blinked. People discussed things like this in the open? Where others could hear them?

I took a look around; the guards were watchful of me, but none of them seemed shocked to hear the conversation.

So, if it was a church thing... I was the only potential witness.

“We don’t need this one for that.” Alderman said. “We can find a crocodile skin, and make that claim.”

Spy shook his head. “No, we only have credibility once for such a deception. Once the truth becomes known, that could break the loyalty of the army for good.”

“They aren’t especially loyal now.” Alderman huffed.

“That, I blame on Achea.” Conman said. “Perhaps we should begin calling it the Forge.”

“It does have a ring to it, and Loki is the god of forges.” Spy agreed.

“So,” Alderman said, “Do you, Brother Malkin, have further argument for why we need this... monster?”

Malkin performed a deep bow. “The arguments of my brothers are persuasive. How shall we dispose of him?”

I reached out and pushed a boot against the design that was supposed to be holding me in place. If the archers were any good, I wasn’t sure I could get away. The nearest structure...

The design wasn’t exactly clear terrain, but it was generally flat and wide. And it was day.

“Public burning.” Alderman said.

“Soul burn and dispose of the body.” Spy said.

.....

“Let him fight one of our guards.” Conman said. “I might get some amusement out of that.”

“Perhaps the iron bar?” Malkin suggested. “If this beast, this monster, is truly favored of Loki, that would be one way to reveal the truth.”

“It’s not likely.” Spy said.

Alderman rubbed his chin. “It takes less energy to heat a metal bar than to burn a body.”

Spy licked his upper lip. “Between those assembled here, we should be able to heat a sufficient amount of metal.”

“Or,” said one of the guards, “we could let Taran get his champion level.”

“Is he that close?” the Alderman asked.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Conman asked.

“Taran.” Spy asked, “What is your assessment of our young monster, here?”

Taran scratched his cheek. “That beast is deceptively strong, is what my System says. If it’s all the same, I say we kill it and be done with it.”

Malkin chuckled, but before he could speak, another warrior, an Axeman, stepped forward.

“Let me handle the little one; trial by combat.”

Conman scoffed. “It will be over quickly.”

“Seconded.” Spy said.

“Unanimous.” Alderman said.

I sighed, pulling knife and shield from my inventory.

“And now,” he said, “prepare to face the wielder of the Legendary Axe. I am Kornath, the Axe Hero!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “you’re who?”

He attacked.