Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure
Eight 2: Chapter 2

Billisha and Aluali muttered to each other, careful to keep their voices low so they wouldn’t be heard by the adults walking ahead. I listened with half an ear to make sure they didn’t plan anything off-script, but mostly they were looking forward to gloating at the results of the world speaker’s investigation.

The kids had warned me back at the Glen that I might need to have my spirit examined in order to prove I had the levels of an adult—and thanks to a certain otter, I felt prepared. The kids had described the process to Ikfael, who’d then animated it with water so I could understand what they were saying. This process of creating a visual guide was also how they’d filled out my vocabulary and the three of us had developed our contingency plans.

Ikfael had wanted a full dozen fish in exchange, but it was well worth the time invested. Plus, the kids and I had gotten to spend the afternoon fishing, not exactly a hardship.

Since this was my first real foray into a civilized area, I made sure to soak in the sights as Koda led us toward the village gate. The land between it and the forest was filled with farmland, pastures, and meadows. The stream leading to Ikfael’s waterfall cut through them all and passed to the north of the village’s wall.

I saw farmers working with oxen and striped horses. They weren’t zebras—I knew what those looked like. No, these were definitely dun-colored horses, just with dark gold stripes under their manes and at the rump. The fields themselves were full of corn, squash, peppers, and beans. Most promising were the potato plants—the green shrubs were a welcome sight to my french-fry-loving heart.

The wall surrounding the village was twenty feet tall. None of the stones matched—they were assembled all in a jumble—and yet the wall looked solid to my eye. It seemed to be of a similar construction to the one Woldec had erected before he died and turned into a zombie. It was also uncomfortably familiar, as was the slope leading up to the village. Yep, this is definitely the place where I first woke up in this world.

There wasn’t anyone at the gate though. “Where is the guard?” I asked.

Billisha relayed Koda’s answer: “The land knight is not visiting. No guard.”

So, I’d been unlucky that day? Unable to enter the village because the land knight responsible for this town had just happened to be here?

Not quite. There still would’ve been the villagers’ concerns about me being a false one, and I would’ve had to navigate the situation while under the effects of Meliune’s Blessing—all without knowing anything about the people, language, or culture.

I shook my head. It would’ve been a challenge no matter how I look at it.

The uekisheile picked up on the thought. Joy-growth-joy.

That’s right. I’ve come a long way since then.

The gate consisted of a series of logs strapped together and operated by a pulley system. It looked like it could be dropped at a moment’s notice, and there were holes in the ground for the sharpened ends of the logs. Currently, the holes were covered with wooden planks, probably to make passage easier for the people, their herd animals, and the couple of carts I’d seen parked out in the fields.

Inside, the walls continued and formed an enclosure. Carved into them were stylized images of ferocious dogs, their teeth bared. The art was swirly and without many hard corners, reminding me of the Mesoamerican sculptures I’d seen in my previous life.

Once we passed through a second gate, we entered a plaza-like space and the village proper. The area was full of people working, colorful chickens underfoot, and small children running free. A communal well sat in the center. I saw a young boy carrying a clay pot away from it.

I looked back to note how the entrance essentially created a choke point, which could then be defended from the plaza. And ahead, the buildings were longhouses built from wood, like log cabins except two or three times the length. They were situated so that the buildings boxed in the plaza, and the only way to travel deeper into the village was to pass between them, which we did.

The pattern from the village’s entrance repeated: as we passed by the first longhouses, we encountered two more, except they were built lengthwise to either side of us, forming a passage similar to the one we’d entered the village through. And at the end was an exit leading to another plaza.

This pattern of passages and plazas was replicated throughout the village, or at least the parts we saw. I asked Billisha about it, and she explained that it was common for neighboring families to build their longhouses this way—to form the sides of a squarish shape and use the empty space in the middle for a shared garden.

I had no doubt the layout would also help if an invader ever got past the village wall. The arrangement would force enemies through a series of chokepoints and staging areas—which, given the dangers posed by the local wildlife, wasn’t an unwise precaution.

We drew looks as we walked, and the giant dog with us seemed to be popular with the village children. A gaggle of them followed behind. They sang to him, and while our procession didn’t stop, his ears constantly turned and his tail wagged.

The village center’s plaza was surrounded by the first stone buildings I’d seen, and the middle was occupied by a small Mayan-style pyramid with an enclosure at the apex.

The adjacent buildings appeared to include residences, a communal oven, and a couple of larger buildings with what looked like courtyards peeking out from behind them. These last two buildings had signs atop their doors. One displayed a half-husked ear of corn, and the other had a crossed spear and bow.

The area was busier than I’d expected. The chatter of people talking, the motion of them entering and exiting the buildings, and the smells of different foods cooking were a shock after being in the wilderness for so long. I was particularly struck by the scent of stewing tomatoes, chili peppers, and… goat?

Koda wanted to head straight for the pyramid, but Musastacha the Dog Rider asked him to wait. He dismounted and ran into the nicest of the residences.

While we waited, a little girl approached Jeseidatchei to put a flower braid around his neck. She couldn’t reach, so Koda lifted her up. The braid wasn’t big enough, however, and sat atop the giant dog’s head like a tiara instead. She didn’t appear to mind, and gave him a pat before joining the other children.

More than one curious onlooker stopped by to ask Koda what was happening, but all I picked up were the words for visitor, world speaker, and trade. Fortunately, we weren’t kept waiting long, and Musastacha returned, bringing with him a woman who walked with… authority. Her clothes were nice too, similar to Koda’s, and she wore a necklace with a pendant shaped like a golden key.

Huh, reeve’s an interesting word choice by the System. In medieval Europe, the position had been held by the person who represented the interests of the noble responsible for a village, yet none of the buildings or people looked European. If anything, the vibe was heavily Mesoamerican. Is the System providing the closest translation in English?

We all stood around while Koda and Musastacha briefed Dwilla on the situation, and from the look on her face, we’d gathered another skeptic. The whole troop—minus dog—then climbed the pyramid to enter the enclosure at the top.

A stone spiral staircase led into the pyramid, and we walked down single file. The path was narrow, and there were carvings: more dogs, but I also saw horses, oxen, and people farming and hunting. There were also alcoves so that people could pass each other.

The passage expanded once we reached a round chamber at the pyramid’s base. The space was lit by a series of candlestones embedded in the walls, and at the room’s center was a pedestal with a stone disk floating above it. The air felt charged, like a storm was ready to break, and the hair on the back of my neck rose—my eyes were drawn to the disk. Five pie slices were carved into it, each slice covered in more carvings. I could almost smell the magic.

According to the kids, the disk was called a dasekua. The closest translation was ‘life stone.’ It was the heart of a village—the residents fed it mana, and in return the life stone provided boosts to the fertility and health of the village, along with stronger connections to the World Spirit for its leaders and people. Maintaining this life stone was supposed to be one of the world speaker’s most important responsibilities.

The chamber had five arched, half-sunk doorways leading out, and at that moment a woman in her thirties arrived through one of them. She wore a long, sleeveless, lavender dress, with a white blouse under it. A ruby pendant hung around her neck, and her shoulder-length hair shone in the light. The pins holding it in place sparkled.

Sheedi listened to Billisha’s story with an amused half-smile on her face—until it reached the part about Ikfael. Then her expression turned thoughtful, and it took only a moment for her to agree to the request to have my spirit examined.

According to the kids, the traditional payment for the service was five small silver coins, which apparently held true in this village too. Each of these taak was supposed to be worth a day of a farmer’s labor, so this payment represented half a week’s wages.

Between the nameless soldier whose remains I had found buried in dragon turd, and the zombies I’d put to rest in the caves leading to the Red Room, I had: twenty taak, two eltaak, and one antaak. And since each eltaak was worth ten taak, and an antaak was worth twenty eltaak, altogether the coins were worth 240 taak, more than enough to pay the world speaker.

I handed the coins over, and Sheedi led the procession down one of the ramps to another round chamber. This one had a large circle engraved into the floor. In the center was a round stage a foot off the floor. To the right of the doorway, there was a podium with an ornate chest alongside it.

The procession gathered at the edges of the room, while I was directed to stand on the stage. Then they asked me to get naked, which I’d known was coming, but it was still embarrassing.

Billisha and Aluali had zero shame about getting naked in front of each other or me, so they’d been puzzled when I’d asked them about this part of the proceedings. The people of this world just didn’t have any hang ups about nudity. I still felt like a horse on display though.

Sheedi fiddled with whatever was at the podium, and I felt a tingle in the bottoms of my feet. The sensation crawled into my shins and legs, filled my hips, and rose through my torso to spill over into my arms before continuing up into my head. As planned, the uekisheile contracted to their smallest size and tucked themselves behind my heart dantian.

The sensation grew until it felt like ants were crawling through my meridians. I was told to hold still so I couldn’t scratch or move in any way—not that it would help. The itch was on the inside. All I could do was grit my teeth and wait until the tingling drained out through my feet.

Sheedi asked me to step down, then brought out a large sheet of whitish cloth from the chest. She glanced at it a moment, gave a little nod, and walked over to place it on top of the stage. Koda, Musastacha, and the rest immediately rushed over to look. I was in the process of putting on my pants when they all suddenly turned to look at me.

I worked my way through the crowd, and saw that an outline of my body had been drawn onto the cloth. Inside it was a watercolor explosion of red, blues, greens, and yellows. I could vaguely make out my dantians, the major meridians, and even some of the other, stranger structures I’d glimpsed during Ikfael’s rituals.

Koda’s face was full of surprise, while Musastacha looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, and Sheedi’s eyebrows rose. The kids just giggled.

The god Diriktot had gifted me with two Statuses—one hidden and one visible—and the information on the visible one was apparently still impressive enough to surprise the people around me, even though it greatly masked my abilities. I took a look, so that I’d have something to compare to what was displayed on the cloth.

Sheedi began to interpret the map of my spirit. While the others listened intently, Billisha quietly translated the words into simpler language for me.

“The level is 3. The path is near the hunter, but with a strong current of qi and a little magic. I see nature, water, and air. The bow rises over the spear and the knife. They hide in the forest and in the cave. Baei paelle!” Sheedi gaped at a constellation of structures. “Four talents! One for the river of life, one for the hunter, one for understanding, and one for perfection.”

The adults looked outright astounded, and I thought the story about us living on our own in the wilderness must surely have become more plausible as a result.

“More. There is more,” Sheedi said, pointing to an otter-shaped blob. “A blessing. A spirit’s blessing. Possibly, the spirit is Ikfael.” She turned to look at me, her eyes sparkling.

Then, they all looked in my direction, even Musastacha. Whatever annoyance he’d felt before was apparently gone.

“This is a good seed,” Sheedi said.

“He is a hunter,” Koda said. “He needs to join their lodge. Also, there is an ihkip who needs children.”

“The land knight needs kaleshi,” Dwilla said.

“Ikfael’s Blessing,” Sheedi said, and then came a bunch of words, flowing as fast as a stream.

I heard water and something sounding like the word for house, but lost the rest. While the group argued, Billisha managed to convey that Sheedi wanted to build a shrine or temple at the Glen. That it would grow the village’s issepachu.

When I asked for a translation, Billisha puffed out her chest to make herself look more important. So, status? Importance?

“What about ihkip and kaleshi?”

“An ihkip is a person alone, their family dead,” Billisha said. “A kaleshi is a soldier for a land knight.”

As the adults argued and argued, going around in circles. Billisha explained that the land soldiers were specialized warriors responsible for protecting a knight’s holdings. The doggo-destruction team of Musastacha and Jeseidatchei was one example.

The training sounded interesting, but leashing myself to a master wasn’t of interest to me, at least for now. I expected to lose some autonomy by connecting to civilization—that was the price paid for the benefits a society offered—but my hope was that it wouldn’t be too much. I liked my life in the Glen; I just needed to supplement it.

“I choose,” I said, interrupting the argument. “I am an adult, and I choose what I do.”

My declaration gathered four frowns in response. The only ones who approved were the kids, who seemed to be enjoying the kerfuffle.

“Ithia the Land Knight protects these lands,” Dwilla said. “You are under the laws of Albei. There are duties and obligations.” She paused while Billisha pantomimed the tough words.

And at my request for clarification, Dwilla explained that Albei was a city located farther to the east. It was the center from which the area was ruled, and like all governments everywhere, they expected taxes.

“Then we pay what is owed,” I said, and opened my money bag to reveal the single small gold coin in our possession: the antaak.

Showing the gold was a gamble, but we needed to establish that we could take care of ourselves. I was gratified to see Musastacha’s jaw drop.

“Level 3 and more taak than me,” he mumbled.

“I am an adult,” I said again. “I choose.”

Koda backed down first, his gaze thoughtful. Dwilla, on the other hand, was unwilling to concede, though she didn’t have much recourse. According to Billisha, we were safe under the law, as long as we met our obligations.

I soon found out those obligations were intense. They consisted of:

• A portion of all wages or crops; the amount depended on the size of holdings owned
• Labor on behalf of the land knight, usually agricultural
• Participation in the defense of the village as required
• Mana for the life stone
• And a tenth of all silverlight gathered, including funeral silverlight

Funeral silverlight was collected from the dead, and usually funneled toward the head of a household—the prevailing philosophy being that one really strong person was worth more than a bunch of mediocre ones. Now, that might’ve been only true in the villages where Billisha and Aluali were from, but I could see how it’d be important to have a strong defender if and when the family was attacked. And given what I’d seen of the village so far, defense was important to these people too.

Also, how typical—even after you were gone, the rulers found a way to tax you. Fortunately, any and all of the obligations could be exchanged for money, and money we had.

Interestingly, instead of being upset at my reluctance to be recruited, Sheedi smiled. “Yes, you choose, but Ikfael also chooses. In fifteen days, we go to give her gifts. I talk with the spirit then.”

Ikfael had mentioned that she received offerings from these villagers twice a year, but I was confused about what Sheedi meant by Ikfael choosing. It didn’t help that the adults sometimes talked faster than Billisha could translate, especially when they argued, which they’d started doing after Sheedi’s declaration.

The others appeared to be ganging up on her, but Sheedi’s smile never left her face. Every time she glanced in my direction, she looked more and more pleased.

“Explain. Explain slower,” I said, frustrated at not being able to follow the argument.

“Come,” Sheedi said. “We will sit, eat, drink, and talk like city people. We will talk about the spirit choosing.”