To distract myself from the weirdness happening in the Blessed City, I decided to hunt down a few of the locals. Just telling a couple of people about the events there would probably do additional damage to their cause, especially when it came to recruitment numbers. After all, the prospect of living in a well-fortified and supplied city was a lot less tempting when said city came fully equipped with a fanatical despot and mind control that made resistance futile. Oh, and the occasional public torture and execution, just to spice things up.

  What was it one of the early American politicians said, ‘Better to die on your feet than live on your knees’, or something along those lines? I wasn’t sure many people would have the fortitude to stand firm in that conviction, but it would likely give pause to many.

  Hel, just the prospect of public torture would make people reconsider. The fact that any dissident and resistance against said torture was made impossible would only reinforce that. But it would only work if people knew about both issues beforehand; otherwise, the mind control might set in before they had a chance to figure things out. After all, quite a few people wouldn’t put up much of a fight if the only price for a safe place and food was the requirement to pray once or twice a day. Before the change, Christian Missions had operated on a similar principle, with the important difference that, to the best of my knowledge, prayer back then had no external power attached to it. It might make the person praying feel better and make them part of a community, but I had never seen, heard, or read about prayer having an actual, measurable effect. Now, with it being an exchange of Astral Power between devout and deity, that had changed.

  And with an actual effect and exchange came consequences.

  As I thought about those, I had to hide a giggle. It was, in many ways, quite like the proverbial deal with the devil had been before the change, or a contract with a particularly strict and severe lawyer, only without the ability to read the fine print beforehand. One was given only a brief overview of the terms and conditions, and there was no easy way to parse them. In a way, clerics and lawyers fulfilled some fairly similar roles in this amusing mental image; their job was to explain to the buyer, or devout, what they were signing up for. And, just as it occasionally was the case with lawyers, they weren’t necessarily there to act in the buyer’s best interest but in the best interest of the one paying them. Which, in this case, would be the deity in question, confusing the entire image a little further.

  For a moment, I had that wonderful image swirling in my head of deities and devils, brandishing contracts, precedent and arguing conditions, all the while the mortals were standing somewhere in the back, with fire starting to lick their feet. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to be in that situation, so maybe I should increase my efforts on the path of divinity. If I managed, I would at least be able to hire my own lawyers, instead of having to rely on those paid for by others to advise me.

  Shaking my head, I pushed the strange and amusing images away and focused on my present plans. Namely, to inform Maggy of the events in the Blessed City and have her spread the news in my stead.

  With that in mind, I started to make my way towards their village, occasionally stepping through the shadows to cross annoying terrain. Moving across snow was fine and dandy, and I could easily deal with ice, but there were quite a few spots in which the snow had partially thawed, leaving that slick and sticky mud that gave even me trouble. A part of me wanted to investigate that type of mud at some point, if only so I could learn to conjure it. After all, anything that was slick enough to dump me on my backside if I wasn’t very cautious had a lot of potential as a weapon. Sure, Agility wasn’t my highest attribute, but it was my third-highest overall and my highest physical attribute. Other creatures might have an advantage there, simply because traits like claws or tails that acted as a counterweight to keep balance existed, but I had a good Agility score for a humanoid at my level. And yet, that stupid mud had managed to get me once. So, until I could take the time and investigate, I would keep stepping through the shadows and avoid the sticky mess.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  But some mud couldn’t stop me, not even slow me down; I just had to avoid it.

  Soon, I reached the village where Maggy lived and instinctively blended into the shadows. By now, that was instinct the moment I was in close vicinity to other people, a simple habit I wasn’t interested in breaking. Maybe if I ever lived with a large number of people, I would have to deal with it, but I had no intention of doing either. That is, I had no intention of constantly living with other people or of breaking that habit.

  So, the first indication Maggy got that I was in their village was when I tapped her shoulder as she was sitting behind her desk, causing her to let out an adorable squeak of surprise and topple over as she tried to jump from her seat and banged her knees on her desk. .

  “You know, I think I’ve heard a few adorable little critters make similar sounds while I was travelling,” I snarked, as she was trying to get her feet back under herself. It was quite the challenge, thanks to her glorious achievement of trapping herself halfway beneath her desk with her chair blocking her in, largely because one of my feet was keeping the chair from moving backwards and freeing her.

  “Jade,” Maggy let out a sigh. “What are you doing here?” she growled, anger obviously building in her stomach.

  “Why, my dear, I came to visit,” I continued, keeping my snark going. There were only so many ways I could deal with Maggy, and keeping her off-balance, sometimes literally, was one of the easiest ways to do so.

  “And, more importantly, I come bearing interesting stories,” I continued, knowing just how much Maggy enjoyed all kinds of stories, tales and gossip.

  “Can’t you knock on my door like a normal person?” she asked, still trapped under her desk, “And let me up, this is ridiculous!” she snapped, teetering on that edge between anger and despair.

  “If you ask this nicely, I guess I can,” I replied, stepping back to free her chair before helping her up. “And regarding the door,” I paused for a moment, as if I was truly pondering the question. “I guess there’s nothing physical stopping me from knocking on your door.” I replied, only to add, “I just don’t want to.”

  Maggy’s sigh was a sound to behold, filled with a tired weariness that made me think of some ninety, maybe a hundred years old grandfather who has seen it all in their long, long life and survived to tell the tale.

  “What was that tale?” she asked, the anger had somehow faded, leaving only a tired annoyance behind.

  “You see, I’ve been keeping an eye on that fascinating place, the locals call it the Blessed City, quite arrogant, if you ask me. They may have some fairly impressive wards, courtesy of their divine sugar-mama, but I don’t know if I’d call it a city just yet. The blessed part is harder to argue, though I would certainly try,” I explained.

  “Turns out, the blessing they have going on there is a bit of a monkey’s paw. Not quite what you’d think of when somebody speaks of blessings, I’d probably call it a curse, though that might just be me. Someone less independent might not be too bothered by the fact that the wards and their lifestyle enforce a distinct and innate hierarchy,” I paused and looked at her with a raised eyebrow and continued.

  “As in, if you live there, you’d be unquestioningly loyal to their hierarchy; it would get so deeply embedded in your mind that you wouldn’t be able to resist if one of your friends was publicly tortured to death.” I finished, getting a wide-eyed look of fear and disbelief.

  “Seriously?!” she asked, her voice filled with horror.

  “Yes, seriously,” I nodded, “I’ve watched how a group of five was publicly tortured to death. It took them a little over five days until their suffering ended. Not a single person resisted; they didn’t even try.”

  “Good gods,” she whispered, now visibly scared. “You want me to spread this, don’t you?” she asked, and I nodded, happy that she understood. Not that I let it show, this wasn’t something to be amused over.