—— ? ——

  Several months after the 25th System Event.

  The roars of the crowd in the tavern grew as the evening passed. The jolly mood had a sense of fragility from the undertones of events that had occurred.

  Everyone wanted to just forget, yet at the same time, there was still a sense of wariness.

  In a dark corner, Tova watched as the newly evolved aethrayn, humans, and frostkin all drank and talked. It was interesting to her that none of her kind, the yoreboon, were in attendance.

  But every town they visited was different. The mixture of races depended heavily on what the ‘System’ deemed to be the ‘focus’ of the hub it placed people at.

  She frowned as she scanned the crowd. It had been almost an hour since she had last seen her traveling companion… where was that git?

  Tova sighed.

  She tapped her nearly empty mug of ‘ale’ on the table in thought; she had a guess of where he was. Tova raised the mug and downed the last remnants of her drink.

  Her heel pressed against the booth, using it to spring out from the corner, and with mug in hand, she wove through the boisterous crowd toward the bartender.

  He was a tall aethrayn, with a soft red-brown glow around his flawless skin. Tova felt him watching her from the corner of his eye.

  Tova pushed off the ground and effortlessly landed on a stool, bringing her to eye level with the tall bartender.

  “Hey, Barkeep. Have you seen my friend?” she held out her hands. “Tall, blond hair, built but still a bit pudgy with a sparkle in his eyes? He came in with me.” She set down her empty mug

  The bartender slowly moved his head towards her. “Can’t say I’ve seen him, little lady.”

  Tova’s face scrunched. “You know it’s rude to call my kind little.” She cracked her knuckles as she gave him a death stare.

  She hated it when people mentioned her statue. Even for a yoreboon, she was small; she knew that. But still. Fucking rude.

  The bartender held up his hands. “Whoa there, meant no offense.” He said as his eyes took in her scar-covered fists. “I don’t think I have seen your friend.”

  With quick movements, he made her mug disappear. Tova looked down and saw a small shot glass filled with a red liquid.

  “As an apology. I call it ‘Crystalized mistakes’. Seems appropriate."

  Tova rolled her eyes, but nodded. Her hand swept out, and she scooped up the shot glass and downed it in one motion.

  It was awful. She grimaced at the taste. “Mistake is the right wor—” The burn that followed cut off her words. “Hmm.”

  The Bartender grinned. “Strong stuff, eh? I’m not a fan of the taste either, but you can’t argue with the result.”

  Tova nodded. “You sure you haven’t seen him? His name is Scott.” She glanced at the door leading back to the kitchen. “If I had to guess, he’s currently using your oven.”

  The bartender squinted at her, his disbelief evident.

  Tova sighed, her hand blurring to her waist. A dim aethra crystal appeared on the bartop. “A tip, and also a payment, for you to please just go check.”

  The aethrayn glanced at the crystal, then with a skilled motion, made it disappear as well. “Fine. I’ll go check. Couldn’t hurt.”

  He turned and strode away. The kitchen door swung and then settled after he left.

  Tova tapped her fingers as she listened to the bard’s song that echoed throughout the tavern, over the din of its customers.

  A moment later, the door swung and a frowning aethrayn emerged.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. You were right, lit… miss.” The bartender caught himself. “There was a man back there with two of my staff.”

  “His name was Scott, right?”

  The bartender nodded and raised a hand. In it, a steaming bread pastry gleamed in the light. It was delicate and looked flawless.

  “God damnit Scott,” Tova muttered as she pushed off the stool. She sailed over the counter and landed gracefully, and stomped towards the door. She paused next to the Aethrayn, looking up at him. “Mind if I go back there? I need to talk to that git.”

  The bartender glanced down his counter, taking in the new patrons who had moved in for refills.

  “It’s… fine, I guess.”

  Tova stomped past him. “Oh, and the pastry is safe to eat. No need to hold back. Scott’s baked goods are…” Her hand rested on the door as she begrudgingly added. “Really damn good.”

  The bartender looked at her, then the bread. He inspected it, then shrugged. He took a bite.

  His eyes closed, and an involuntary smile crept across the aethrayn’s face.

  Tova rolled her eyes and pushed her way through the door. She glanced around, but then heard giggling. She sighed and stomped in that direction.

  She rounded a corner, three sets of eyes turning to see the source of the noise.

  “Scott, motherfucking Ripple.” Tova spat out. “Mind explaining what the hell you’re doing?”

  The man standing near the oven between the two women gave Tova a wink.

  “Well, hello, grumpy,” Scott replied as he opened the oven. The delicious smell of baked bread that filled the kitchen amplified as he reached inside. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m baking with these two lovely ladies.” He gestured towards each of them. “Evelyn, Clara, this is my traveling companion, Tova. She’s a bit of a downer, but very reliable.”

  The aethryn woman to his right, Eveylyn, frowned towards Tova, crossing her arms across her uniform.

  Scott pulled a steaming tray that held a dozen half-crescent-shaped baked goods. “Ahhh, they turned out so well.” With dexterous movements, he snatched small plates, and his fingers danced as he carefully moved two of the freshly baked crescents onto them. He turned his attention back to Tova.

  “Do you want one as well?” he asked as he held out the plates to his audience.

  Tova tapped her foot impatiently. “Scott, I have something to tell you. I told you we were going to discuss what I discovered.”

  Scott smiled widely. “Oh, that’s right, where better to speak than over freshly baked croissants?” From his side, Clara let out a moan as she bit into the bread. An impish grin pulled at Scott’s lips as he took in the closed eyes of the dark-haired woman.

  Tova sighed. “Scott… I need to speak to you.” She eyed the two women. “Alone.”

  Scott’s expression changed to one of hurt. “You would stop me from baking?”

  “Oh, for Arigolnas sake,” Tova groaned. “Scott, we came here to discuss this. You made muffins for the waitresses in the last town. Would it be too hard to ask you to pause your damned baking for just a few minutes?”

  Two death stares now bored into Tova from Clara and Eveylyn. Tova met their stares with one of her own.

  Scott fanned the croissants, glancing between the three. “Clara, Eveylyn.” The two women smiled as they turned to him. “Could you give me a few minutes?” He asked, their plates refilling with a croissant each. “I did agree to speak with Tova about a matter. After we’re done, I'll show you how I make this delicious sweet treat I learned about a few months ago. Think you can find me something to help make that? Syrup, powder, or fruit will do. Just needs to be sweet.”

  Clara tapped her lips thoughtfully. “I think I may know of something. There's a man down the street who roams out in the wilderness, and he’s collected a strange tuber that I have heard is extremely sweet.”

  Eveylyn nodded. “Should still be open. His daughter runs the shop, and shouldn’t have left yet.”

  Scott beamed. “That sounds perfect! If you can bring it back, I’m sure I can find a way to adapt my recipe.”

  His hands moved as he cut the croissants in half and placed them on plates. “Here, bring these out to the bar and see what people think. I’m sure your boss will be happy when his customers clamor for more.”

  The two women picked up trays and piled the plates on them. As they moved to leave, they gave Tova sour looks.

  Tova met their looks from the side with a flat stare, but then smirked back at them. Once they had left, she turned back to Scott, who was already mixing a new batter in a large wooden bowl.

  “Scott, you have to stop doing this.” She grumbled as she stepped in closer, eying the single croissant that had been left behind.

  “Doing what?” Scott paused his mixing, giving her an innocent look.

  “Giving every mildly cute woman you cross paths with your damned baked goods.”

  Scott looked confused. “And why would I do that? Sharing delicious experiences with another is one of life’s few pleasures.”

  Tova stared him down. “Uh huh.”

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  Scott sighed. “Look, I should have waited until we spoke. I just had such a lovely conversation with Clara that when she invited me to share my craft, I couldn’t resist.”

  Tova kept staring.

  “You know.” Scott continued. “I’m honestly impressed you never seem to fall for my charms. Even when you have so many moments alone with me.”

  Tova tilted her head, her expression screaming ‘Really?’

  “Alright, alright.” Scott laughed. “I’ll be serious.” The warm smile dropped as he placed the dough on a cutting board. He crossed his arms across his flour-dusted leather vest, the white powder hidden on his white undershirt. He dusted his hands on the apron he hadn’t been wearing when they entered the tavern and adjusted the red bandana around his neck.

  Tova stared for a moment, then shook her head. “Does every baker cook with their chest bared to the public, or just you?”

  Scott raised an eyebrow, “Like what yo–” then held up his hands as Tova slapped a fist into her open palm. “Okay, okay…” Scott grinned. “No, that’s just my style.” He glanced left and right, then lowered his voice. “So, what have you found?”

  “Finally.” Tova sighed. She moved closer, then quietly spoke. “You know the story the bards have been singing? The one I have been talking about?”

  Scott nodded. “The Bunny Slayer, right? That monstrosity of a man.” He frowned. “Why? You know people love their crazy stories.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that verse.” Tova glanced behind her, then looked back at Scott. “The one about him being ‘Damned’ by this world.”

  Scott nodded thoughtfully. “I told you, I’m pretty sure it's just a saying.”

  Tova shook her head. “I thought so too… but while you were restocking our supplies, I happened to pass the Church of Living Records.”

  “Don’t tell me you went in.” Scott’s eyes widened at Tova’s nod. “Are you insane?”

  Tova grinned back at him. “Maybe a little… but Scott, I got information from a follower of the church.” She paused, a gleam in her eyes. “It was pricey, but they swear by the validity of the information.”

  Scott leaned in, his eyes bright with interest. “Well, don’t tease, Tova. What did they tell you?”

  “That the Bunny Slayer was cursed by the divine,” Tova whispered. “And that the church is the one spreading his tale.”

  “Really? Why would they do that?”

  Tova shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Neither was the follower of the church.”

  Scott stroked his chin, his eyes darting to the door, then back to Tova. “Well, that's a start. Too bad that’s all they knew… hmm, maybe I can ask Clara and Eveylyn if they have heard anything.”

  He gave Tova a cheeky grin. “I’m sure I can ‘sweet-talk’ it out of them.”

  Tova rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could.” She said, her eyes drifting to the croissant. “But, you won’t need to. That follower shared two more bits of information.”

  Tova let the silence hang in the air as Scott looked at her expectantly.

  “Oh, come on.”

  She laughed. “I see what you mean, Scott. Frustrating people is fun.”

  Scott sighed, his eyes glancing toward the door. “The ladies are going to be back soon, you know that, right?”

  “I know.” Tova shook her head. “Alright. The two bits of info he had.” She paused again, then grinned at Scott’s exasperated look.

  “His name and the town where he fought.”

  Scott’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

  “Yup.” Tova nodded. “His name is Simon Starfall. At least they think so. Apparently, one of their healers helped save a man who muttered the name ‘Bunny Slayer’ in his fevered sleep. That same man nearly defeated an entire invading army on his own.”

  “Simon Starfall…” Scott muttered the name, then looked up at Tova. “What’s Varnholt Valley like?”

  “Snowy, frozen, and filled with - get this - murderous bunnies,” Tova replied.

  Scott stroked his chin. “Hmmmmm… I have been wanting to make some meat pies…”

  Tova smiled. For all Scott’s faults, she liked that he got straight to the point. Well… in his own way.

  “So, when do you want to leave?” Tova asked.

  Scott's eyes glanced towards the mixing bowl then back to her. He gave her an apologetic smile.

  Tova sighed. “It’s fine… We can leave tomorrow.”

  “Yay!”

  The sound of the Tavern grew as the door swung open. It seemed the waitresses had returned.

  “Want to stay and help us bake?” Scott asked, that stupid impish grin back on his face.

  “Yeah, no thanks,” Tova said, rolling her eyes. She turned to leave.

  “You forgot something.” Scott’s sing-song voice called out.

  Tova turned back to see his smug smile.

  She stared at the still steaming croissant. At that moment, her body betrayed her as her stomach rumbled.

  “God damnit.” Tova stomped forward and snatched the plate. “Tomorrow, we leave at first light.” She turned and pushed past the two women who carried a carrot-like tuber that had bands of pink and purple.

  “I’m getting a damned drink,” Tova muttered as she swung the door out of her way.

  A few moments later, she was back in her dark corner, frothing mug and steaming croissant on the table before her. Tova noticed a few of the tavern goers practically salivated when they saw what was on her plate.

  Tova took a sip of the mediocre ale, then took a bite of the croissant. Soft, flaky layers melted in her mouth as the faint tints of butter accented the delicate flavors.

  “Damnit.”

  Scott really was an amazing baker. Tova had to give him that. She honestly wished she had never tried the first thing he had given her all those months ago.

  Everything else she had eaten since then paled in comparison.

  She sighed as she looked at the now-empty plate. The croissant had vanished, the lingering flavors slowly fading from her mouth.

  She tapped her mug as she thought over the information she had gained.

  After all these months, all the travel, they finally had a lead.

  “Simon Starfall.” She muttered. “Cursed by the gods.”

  Tova glanced at her status sheet.

  I guess Scott and I aren’t the only ones?

  —— ? ——

  Near the center of the countless realms, a hooded figure moved through the busy streets of the spire.

  She wove through the crowd, her steps light and flowing. Almost none noticed her as her pace accelerated, her passage like a spirit moving to the afterlife.

  The hooded figure moved down a side street then turned a corner. At the end of the alley, a massive complex dominated this section of the spire.

  A glowing metal sign, the size of some of the smaller buildings of the spire, hovered above it.

  “Todd’s Trinkets, Travels & Tasks,” it proudly said. The text was simple, unassuming.

  But those who knew the proprietor knew the shop as anything but simple.

  The hooded figure pushed her way through one of the many doors of the shop's front.

  “Hello!” The gigantic receptionist at the desk greeted, as a small bell above the door rang. “Welcome to Todd’s Trinkets, Travels, and Tasks. How can we be of service?”

  The cloaked figure strode to the desk, pulling her hood back. Flowing red hair spilled out as she eyed the receptionist.

  An expensive-looking suit accented the dark black scales that covered the receptionist from head to toe. She glanced at their folded, clawed hands and then looked up into glowing red eyes. Their snout was pulled back in a polite smile that, despite the receptionist’s efforts, looked anything but menacing.

  “I have been told that your establishment is very discreet.”

  The scaled receptionist nodded their head, the soft light of the room glinting off their obsidian black horns.

  “Here at Todd’s, we will never reveal any details of any client.” Their smile vanished, and their eyes took on a sinister glow. “I hope the madam is not intending to inquire of the actions of our clients?”

  The woman held up her hands. “No, not in the least. I merely wished to confirm what I had heard.”

  The dark-scaled being nodded. “In that case, how may we be of service?”

  The woman glanced around the room. “I want to find information about someone.”

  A clawed hand raised, cutting off her words. “A moment.” The receptionist reached under their desk, retrieving a glowing sphere.

  The woman’s eyes grew wide as she recognized the device. Green energy coursed from the receptionist, and the device glowed.

  A surge of magic swept out, and a bubble appeared around the desk, encompassing the woman.

  “You may now speak freely.” The receptionist said with a smile.

  The woman shook her head in amazement. “To use that level of mana for a simple conversation…” She shook her head. “I see your reputation is well deserved.”

  She got a nod in response. The woman hesitated for a moment, but then decided this was the right choice.

  She met the glowing red eyes.

  “My name is Arynn Stridebreaker,” Arynn said. “And I would like to ask Todd to search for information for me.”

  The scaled receptionist nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Arynn Stridebreaker, Bard of the Steel Steps.” He bowed his head slightly. “I am Zuldroclad, personal assistant to Todd.”

  Arynn raised an eyebrow, she hesitated but then had to ask. “Does he really just go by… ‘Todd’?”

  Zuldroclad let out a sigh. “For all the centuries I have known him. I know it can be odd, but he will not accept any other name. He is simply,” Zuldroclad paused, “Todd.”

  “Interesting,” Arynn muttered. “I don’t really mind; just thought it was curious.”

  Zuldroclad nodded. “Many have said the same.”

  Arynn shrugged. “Well, then. I have a request for Todd. I would like to be clear, I do not wish for any to know of this request.”

  “Of course.”

  Arynn thought through what she wanted to reveal. From what she had heard of this strange business, anything said within its walls had never been revealed in its entire existence. At least not by the ones who worked within, or by its proprietor, Todd.

  “Well…” Arynn began. “I wish to learn about a mortal known as Simon Starfall.”

  A pitch-black slate appeared, hovering in the air. A glowing red pen began to inscribe on its surface.

  “What do you wish to learn?” Zuldroclad.

  “Everything.”

  Zuldroclad nodded. “Anything in particular?”

  “Yes, actually.” Arynn’s eyes gleamed. “I would like to know how a newly integrated mortal has acquired my unique skill.” She shook her head, still struggling to believe it herself. “One that was taken from me by a deity.”

  Zuldroclad’s scaled eyebrows raised. “Oh? I now see why you have come to us… Fascinating.”

  “Exactly.”

  Zuldroclad stroked their long jaw. “Would you be interested in sharing this fascinating event? It could potentially reduce your costs.”

  “And none of what I share will leave this building? How would you use that information?” Arynn squinted.

  “Of course, your secrets are safe.” Zuldroclad tilted his head. “And as to how we would use it? It’s not every day that new information arrives. It sounds like a fascinating tale. Take it as the curiosity of an old man.”

  Arynn thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Then I agree.”

  Zuldroclad smiled.

  “Let us move to somewhere more comfortable than this.”

  Arynn followed the massive dragonoid to a comfortable sitting room.

  They sat, and the Bard of the Steel Steps explained what had happened to her skill.

  She told of how she had developed it.

  She spoke of having left the service of Varrax the Unyielding, and how the god had taken her unique skill.

  “And then, four months ago, I received a notice from the system informing me that my unique skill had changed owners,” Arynn explained. “And that’s when I got a new skill. It’s no longer unique, but it mirrors the ability of the skill I nurtured over decades.”

  Zuldroclad had leaned forward during her tale, his glowing red eyes practically pulsing.

  “Fascinating…” He tilted his head. “And you said this… Simon Starfall has it now?”

  Arynn nodded, a grin spreading across her face.

  “He does. Took it right from the martial god himself.”

  Her eyes gleamed.

  “That’s why I want to know everything about him.”

  Zuldroclad smiled. “I’m sure we can help with that.” He glanced behind him, then looked back to Arynn.

  “I would normally never offer this to a first-time customer. But based on the nature of your request and your willingness to share…” He paused. “Would you like to meet him?”

  “Who?” Arynn asked.

  “The owner.” Zuldroclad grinned.

  “Todd.”

  —— ? ——

  End of Book 1.

  — AUTHOR NOTICE —-

  Thanks for reading book 1!

  As mentioned in previous notices, Doomed and Damned will be on a break for a couple of weeks. I will be posting book 2 chapters on my Patreon this week (Need to keep a consitent backlog for book 2.)

  Chapters will resume once Patreon is caught up, as they have been patiently waiting.

  But! I do have chapters of another story you can read while you wait.

  Will of the Wizards went live today:

  Lots of chapters going out over the next few weeks, with five out so far.

  If you got this far, write me a review! Rating and Reviews help tremendously with online algorithms, so go do that!

  -TheBusyBard