Bog Standard Isekai-Chapter 58Book 4.

Brin woke up some time later, as he often did. He had a splitting headache and was totally naked except for a bandage on his head. But he was warm and safe in a bed with clean sheets in a private room. That was enough for now.

Oddly, the bandage didn't seem to be for the wound the [Paragon] had given him; that had totally healed. There was a tender patch of skin and when he touched it, it exploded with bright pain, like someone had set off a flare inside his head. Was that a hole? Had they drilled a hole in his skull to relieve pressure?

He didn't know if he wanted to know. Medicine in this culture was straight up butchery; they were too used to System-enhanced bodies and had no concept of how a regular person would react to some of the things they pulled. Then again, Brin didn't know much about medicine from his old world; it wasn't something he ever paid attention to. It was totally possible that they relieved concussions by drilling holes in people's heads.

He thought about getting up, but that thought felt treasonous. Besides, the lack of pressure on his bladder told him he hadn't been here all that long. He should just go back to sleep...

His Lance! The thought had him jolting back awake.

He summoned an Invisible Eye and the extra sensory inputs made him sick to his stomach. He wasn't ready to make a swarm of these and rush around town to find out what was happening. He'd check up on his Lance and then go back to sleep. That was it.

It didn't take long to find them. The building they were in might've been an inn at some point because there were several single-bed rooms on his floor, but now it was a hospital. The common room on the ground floor had been packed wall to wall with beds, and everyone with any kind of healing Class scurried between them, doing whatever they could. Many of these wouldn't have joined the fighting and now were eager to help in any way they could after the fact.

He found his Lance in rooms on the same floor, all similarly laid-up like him. Most were just sleeping, with light injuries barely more than cuts and bruises. He hurried to find Cowl and Govannon, the two worst hurt. Govannon slept while a [Nurse] carefully unwound the bandages on his stomach to check the injury. Stomach exposed, there wasn't much to see, just a bit of blood and a gouge that hadn't yet started to scab over. It didn't tell Brin anything about how bad it really was or what the long-term complications might be, but at least it was clear that Govannon wasn't going to die any time in the next few hours. Cowl was sitting up in bed, reading, which was a good sign.

Cid was the worst off, surprisingly. Every inch of visible skin except portions of his face were black and purple, as if every muscle in his body were badly bruised. The potion really did have a cost, or maybe immunity to exhaustion didn't mean immunity to all the little micro-injuries that built up when you strained your muscles. He'd have to ask about it, but that could explain why Galan didn't spam [Knight's Charge] all over the place.

He couldn't bring himself to do any more reading than just Class names, not when his mind was still so bleary. Seeing his Lance safe, Brin leaned down and went back to sleep. When he woke up the next time, it was to answer the call of nature. He dressed in pajamas; somehow his things had made it to his room.

He still wasn't ready to face the world yet. There were probably a million things he could help with, but he wasn't ready for that. He thought he was up for checking his notifications, though.

Savior of Canibri

You saved Canibri from betrayal by High Lord Prima and devastation at the hands of a goblin horde.

Gain +20% power from all attributes while in Canibri. You have heightened ability to persuade or inspire the people of Canibri.

Brin narrowed his eyes at the last sentence. He hadn't gotten that for Hammon's Bog. It was another mental manipulation Skill, another lever into the Wyrd.

Canibri Coward

After the Battle of Canibri, the people of the city began to use the term 'Canibri Coward' as a badge of honor, for those who feared dishonor more than death.

+10% to all attributes during combat while outnumbered

He asked around and found out that there was a different [Canibri Coward] Title floating around.

Canibri Coward

After the Battle of Canibri, the people of the city began to use the term 'Canibri Coward' as a term of absolute scorn for those who failed to answer the call when disaster struck.

-10% to all attributes except during combat.

Naturally, everyone he talked to had the good version of the Title for brave people; they’d just heard of someone else with the coward’s version. Brin expected that those few poor citizens who’d never picked up [Hide Status] were now hiding in their homes.

Knightly has evolved.

You braved near certain death and fought valiantly to protect a city to which you owe no loyalty.

+20% to all attributes while fighting without subterfuge.

You have earned the [Knight] Class. Please enter Class selection to see all available Classes.

He could be a [Knight]. Did he want that? He couldn't decide right now. He was tired; his soul was tired of needing to make big, life or death decisions. He had the mental energy to read his notifications now, not to decide what to do with them.

Alert! The Title Glassbound has evolved!

With glass, you have performed feats of magic with glass that would put many [Mages] to shame.

You gain further increases to your ability to manipulate glass.

Optional upgrade to [Glassbound Illusionist] unlocked. Please enter Class selection to see all available Classes.

Then one more message, seemingly disconnected from the rest.

You've been granted the privilege of entering your next Class Selection at your own discretion. Choices at Class Selection are improved with the number or Titles and Achievements you have earned.

He was definitely not ready for Class selection, especially since he thought he had an idea of what his third choice was going to be. Not because he'd been given any clues, but because he knew the kinds of things he'd done to deserve it.

That last message also made him feel like he should wait; he was getting a feel for how Tenerer worked now. He wouldn’t just outright say it, but Brin got the feeling he wanted him to wait for another Achievement before entering Class selection. Maybe a fame-based one? He was bound to earn something once word of what happened here spread into the wider world.

When he woke again, he felt a bit better, and he went around to chat with his Lance. They were all eager to share their new Classes. Aeron and Govannon were now full [Knights]. Rhun was a [Protecting Knight], Brych was a [Watchful Knight] and Meredydd was a [Knight of Arms]. Meredydd had a Skill called [Break Weapons] that let him sacrifice a weapon he was holding in order to deliver a single tremendously powerful blow, and Brin was drooling thinking of all the ways he could synergize that with disposable glass weapons.

Cid had upgraded to [Knight Captain], which was impressive for his age. Brin was relieved to see it, because it meant that at least in the System's eyes, he hadn't completely supplanted his Prime.

Hedrek only told them that he'd gotten an important Skill upgrade, but refused to elaborate and kept his status locked down.

Cowl and Anwir had both gained some decent levels and Skill upgrades, but neither had made it to [Knight]. Brin figured it was because Cowl had been knocked out early in the fighting and because Anwir kept falling back to use his bow, even when no one ordered him to.

He spent some time chatting with his Lance walking around town a little, but mostly just resting. His mind still needed it even if his body was fine.

Though he tried not to get involved, he couldn't ignore the fact that things were still in chaos. The city had more or less forgiven Prima's men, due to the fact that they'd joined the fighting in the end, but there was still a reckoning to be paid. An armed mob had torn through the city to find any government officials they could blame for the lack of leadership that had left their city exposed. By the end of the second day six men were publicly executed in front of a roaring crowd. Their bodies still hung from the gallows three days later, when the Order of the Broken Stone arrived.

Sir Caradawg restored order, prevented another round of lynchings from going forward, and began the thankless task of setting up a new city government to keep things stable going forward. Brin never saw him in person, thank goodness, but Cid was often pulled into meetings despite the fact that he could barely move at all.

Still, Brin kept an Invisible Eye on Caradawg out of a sense of duty. Most of what he did was pretty boring and mundane, however necessary it might be. There was one interesting conversation, though.

Another four days after Caradawg arrived, he had a conversation with that same [Witch Hunter] they'd met in Dustrim, Mal Onion.

They stood looking out the window at the very top of Mordelet's fortress gazing out at the town. Caradawg asked, "Well? Did you sense any [Witch] influence in your inspection of the city?"

"Yes," said Mal. "A hundred times yes. It's admirable that the citizens managed to mount any resistance at all: This city has been steeped in the Wyrd. Dark enchantments sapped the will and strength of every man, woman and child. I imagine that all the previous leaders were mindless drones when the goblins attacked. Arcaena was certainly behind this, I swear it on my honor as a [Witch Hunter]."

It was a bold-faced lie. Brin hadn't sensed anything from [Know What's Wyrd] during his time in town. Whatever [Witch] had been behind this, if there even was one, had been too subtle to be caught that way. The reason for Mal's lie was also obvious. He was a [Witch Hunter]. There couldn't be a better opportunity to practice his Class than in a war against the [Witch] Queendom.

Maybe a better man would've corrected the lie. If Lothar was here, he definitely would've stormed up there and corrected the matter.

Brin didn't. No one had invited him into that private meeting, and he had no reason to protect Arcaena from evil rumors.

As the days passed and Brin felt more ready to interact with the world, he sent his Invisible Eyes out among the common people to gather news and listen to stories. There were plenty of those--a new one for every pair of lips. Everyone, it seemed, had joined the fighting or contributed in some other way. They told about their own bravery, but mostly, they talked about the Lance. Anyone who'd seen one of the Lance fighting had to let everyone know, and the stories grew with each telling. Anwir's arrows, Hedrek's unmatched ferocity, Aeron's steady grace, Meredydd's selfless courage, Govannon's guile, Brych's speed, and firm, unyielding Rhun. Little was said about poor Cowl, who was knocked out early in the fighting. They talked about Cid, of course, like he was some fairy tale prince, and even the stories about Brin weren't too bad. They called him a [Mage Knight] and gossiped about his legion of glass soldiers. Two had survived; one in the broken wall and one on the other front. They were both being preserved as a historical artifact, but he wasn't sure if they'd be displayed outside or in a museum.

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What was oddly missing from the stories about Brin was any reference to his powers as an [Illusionist]. The music projection that had been cast across the city was chalked up to a mysterious artifact, or Seren's abilities. Even the laser hadn't been a giveaway; they talked about a [Knight] fighting with a magic tool that shot beams of fire. Natural, since lasers weren't really understood in this world.

But smaller things went undiscussed as well. No one mentioned his invisibility that he'd used fairly openly. And there were men who'd been on guard when he'd sent the Mirror Image into the Prima men's barracks who were telling everyone that they'd opened the doors and let him in. He was a knight-at-arms, after all. Who would dare tell him he couldn't enter?

He didn't have any doubt that his secret was out among the people who really mattered, but according to public consciousness, Brin used nothing but glass magic and exotic artifacts.

It was too much to be a coincidence, and when he started looking for them, he saw it immediately. The Earwood Enterprise and three other [Merchant] houses were scurrying around everywhere whispering rumors into the right ears and delivering bribes into the right hands, all in order to control the official story.

Yet another favor from Sion that he couldn't possibly ever hope to pay back. The analytical part of him saw the other side of it: This benefitted the Wogans just as much as him. The complete unmasking of High Lord Prima was sure to lead to a shift in the balance of power. Of course they'd want to protect the reputation of the linchpin of their victory in Canibri--if it came out that Brin was an [Illusionist], there would be a lot of people who would wonder if High Lord Prima was in the right here after all. Those three potions and a little damage control might have just bought Sion's grandfather a kingdom.

Brin didn't care. Whatever extra motivations they might have had, Sion, the Wogans, and their allies had saved Brin's life here, and the life of his men. He'd find some way to repay them.

His newfound family visited him several times in his room. Now that he was a hero, any hesitation they had in accepting him into their lives was gone. He met Nesta's children, honestly a good bunch of kids, and gifted them each a toy made of glass that he summoned on the spot. It was nice to have a bit of normality and to talk about regular life, though of course all they wanted to talk about was the battle. For him it was one of many, but for them this was a once in a lifetime event that they'd all be telling their grandchildren about.

He saw Seren a few times. She was now a level 30 [Bard], and she confessed she'd been given some advancement options and turned them down, not wanting to lock her Class into a specialty before she knew what she wanted to do with her life. She told him that she wanted to study under another [Bard] for now, one who knew the ins and outs of musical theory, and catch up on the formal education that she'd missed.

One morning, he caught her in the city center, looking at a roped-off area for a new construction. It was odd for them to want to build something new since there was so much rebuilding still to be done.

"I wonder what they're doing here?" Brin asked her.

She startled at the sound of his voice, but smiled when she turned around to face him. "You haven't heard? I thought they would've told you."

"Heard what?"

"It's going to look like this," said Seren. She pulled a statuette out of the case where she kept her lute.

It was a full little scene, depicting eleven figures. The Lance was in fighting form, weapons drawn and swinging, charging forward. Their helmets all covered their faces, but the statues were accurate enough to their weapons, armor, and body shapes that Brin could still pick them all apart. Even as a little minifigure, it was an incredible work of art. Seren was in the center, lute in one hand and finger pointing onward with the other. Seren's face and hair were accurate, but the artist had chosen to fill out her figure in a way not entirely consistent with her age, and her clothes had been replaced by a thin, flowing drape.

Well, if she liked it he wasn't going to say anything.

"It's beautiful," he said, handing it back.

"I'm not sure if I deserve it. I didn't do much."

Brin shrugged. "You did everything you needed to. That's more than a lot of people can say."

She sighed. "You know, [Bard] Wilzen told me that they were already talking about making a statue even before the last goblin was driven out of the city. The original design was to only show nine members of your Lance. Master Goreu, head of public planning, said that one of the members of your Lance shouldn't be depicted yet, pending an investigation into troubling, possibly subversive actions."

Brin glanced at the gibbets where Master Goreu was still hanging. No one had cut the previous city officials down yet. "Looks like my name has been cleared."

"Looks like," Seren agreed. It was a bit weird--they weren't exactly friends. He'd sort of drafted her and that was their entire relationship.

He said, “Hey, would you want to–”

But at the same time, she said, “Have you seen Rhun about?"

Brin laughed. "Why is it always Rhun?"

She smiled. "He wonders the same thing about you."

Brin looked around and didn't see any sign of the gaggle of giggling admirers that sometimes followed him around. But the fact that he had to look rather made her point.

A week after the battle, Ifan Earwood visited him in his room. By that time, his injuries had all healed, but they hadn't left the makeshift hospital yet because Govannon wasn't supposed to move.

Ifan entered first with his bodyguard and the footman behind him. The bodyguard had one arm in a sling but still looked as fierce as ever. In true Prinnashian [Merchant] fashion, Ifan had pretended to let Brin talk him out of fighting, and then he'd rushed to the battle anyway together with his bodyguards, servants, and all his workers.

Brin jumped up from his bed and looked around, noticing that there was no other furniture. "Ifan, my friend! What a delightful visit. I have nothing to entertain with right now, but if you'll give me a moment, I'll run down and--"

"No, no," said Ifan. "This is how I wanted it. I have something to show you, and I thought a bit of privacy would be best."

Neither the bodyguard nor the footman moved to leave, so it couldn't have been that private.

"Is something wrong?" Brin asked.

Ifan smiled. He looked tired, honestly, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "No, no. Quite the opposite. I only thought you should see this. It's an [Illusionist] recording, taken yesterday evening in Gonwy."

"You must've had a fast [Messenger] to get it here so quickly," said Brin.

"Something like that," said Ifan. That he didn't answer the question directly was almost a confirmation. After the miraculous gift of the potions, Brin had begun to wonder if Ifan really just happened to have the perfect potions laying around, or if there was some kind of Skill in play. A high level instant transportation Skill for small goods, maybe. It was probably a close-guarded secret of the [Merchants], but maybe Sion would tell him if he asked in the right way.

Ifan withdrew a square pane of glass. "It's enchanted onto here. If only I can remember how to work it."

The footman took the glass out of Ifan's hands, fiddled with it, and then handed it back. The glass lit up, showing a picture and playing sound. Apparently, there was at least one other [Illusionist] in the world who'd made the jump to illusions from glass.

The image showed a man sitting at the head of a table in a very elegant conference room. Soldiers stood to either side of him, and from the looks of it, they weren't his.

This man wasn't the archer Brin had faced; he was much older, but the family resemblance was clear.

"Is that--?"

"High Lord Prima," said Ifan.

High Lord Prima steepled his fingers and spoke, "If this is to be my fate, then so be it, but hear my final plea: A great kingdom like Prinnash was never meant to be ruled over by lesser men. Have you noticed that the men who have kept themselves most distant from the horrors of war are always the ones most eager to begin a new one? It is not for pride's sake or vanity that Prinnash is ruled by warriors, but for the sake of justice and good sense. The powers of violence should only ever belong to those who understand the weight of it. The cost. I know what war with Arcaena will cost, not in property or treasure, or any other goods that [Merchants] measure, but in the moral good and in the most valuable treasure of all: the lives of our people. That's why I have opposed it and will oppose it, even if I oppose it from the cell of a prison."

There was no applause, no reaction at all except silence in the room. Eventually, a voice coming from someone offscreen said, "Opposition to the war of Arcaena is no crime; indeed, the matter of war has by no means been decided."

That statement let out a wave of murmurs, and another voice shouted at them all to quiet and restore order. Prima kept his chin up, with the satisfied resolve of a martyr.

"No, High Lord Prima, your crimes are much more severe. Treason, and sedition, in the main. You have abetted an enemy force in the invasion of the Prinnashian heartland and dispossessed a fellow lord. By order of the king you are under arrest."

He wasn't clapped in irons or even touched at all by the guards, but he was escorted out of the room. The glass went dim.

Brin wanted to feel satisfied that Prima was getting paid at least a part of what he was owed, but even though he knew in his head that High Lord Prima was the main person resonsible for the Canibri disaster, he couldn't attach any emotions to the man.

He was much more worried about the other thing. By protecting Canibri and discrediting High Lord Prima, he had also kicked off the war with Arcaena. As if summoned by his own burgeoning sense of guilt, the System appeared with a message.

Alert! You have received a new Title.

Warbringer -> Merging with Warbound.

With valor and the selective application of information, you have succeeded in orchestrating a war against Arcaena. Through your actions, Prinnash has been brought into the war, providing the allied forces support and a vital staging area.

Increases gained from Battle Fury now cap at 120%

Increased choices at your next Class Selection.

Additional rewards duplicated by Warbound. Converting to experience.

Level up! 41 -> 42

+5 Strength +1 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +2 Magic, +3 Mental Control, +1 Will, +2 free attributes.

As nice as the rewards were, it couldn't distract him from the fact that he'd started a war. No, he wasn't as much of a masochist for blaming himself completely for the war. If this was anyone's fault, it was Arcaena. It was only that he'd gotten used to thinking that there would be a war. There should be a war. Now that it was really happening, he wondered if he should've considered before now if there was another way.

"This will be over the papers a few days from now," said Ifan.

"Will he be hanged?" Brin asked.

"I would venture not. It will all be very complicated, because it's not clear in the law whether a king can arrest a High Lord. It will depend on the outcome of the war, and whether the other High Lords decide to allow it," said Ifan. "I have another piece of information that might interest you. This is already in the papers, though the news hasn't made it here in Canibri yet."

He gave Brin a newspaper, the Gonwy Paper of Record. The front page didn't say a word about Canibri, or even about High Lord Prima, even though Prima's arrest meant that they must've known about it when the paper was written.

Instead, it was all about Lothar.

"Lothar victorious! A host of seventy thousand goblins driven back from Gynll!"

The tale was an epic one, though it was watered down and made almost mundane since it was told in newspaper format, with the most important information listed first rather than telling the whole story as a story. The goblin horde had appeared without warning, except for Lothar who had gathered a small army with no evidence at all except the weight of his name. He'd single-handedly done battle with three goblin [Paragons], each of whom had glutted themselves on an entire village.

After the battle was done, he'd immediately turned his attention to the question of where the goblins had come from, and had decided that they could only have come from a secret Easterling breeding program. Even as Brin read this, he was on Gynll's fastest horse, galloping towards Gonwy to convince the Prinnashian High Council to stop the war with Arcaena."

If things had gone the way that Arcaena planned them, Lothar would've arrived in Gonwy at the same time as ten thousand desperate, terrified refugees from Canibri. They definitely would have stopped the war. Now it was too late.

Now that it was too late to change anything, he couldn't help but second guess himself. Could they even beat Arcaena? Would it be worth the cost? And what about the goblins and the Easterlings? He had no good explanation for where the goblins had all come from, and he didn't even knew what an Easterling was. Shouldn't they come from the East? Why had they attacked Prinnash's westernmost city? For all Brin knew, Lothar might even be right about their secret breeding program. No, he probably was right. The [Witches] manipulated him by giving him true information. Selective and biased, but true.

It was ironic that Lothar was so confident and Brin was so unsure even though Brin was the one who was in the right.

Was it bad that he was a little bit excited? He was finally going to take the fight to the [Witches] themselves. It was time for them to be on the defense while he ransacked their homes.

He'd need to do Class Selection soon, he knew. That [Warbringer] Achievement was the one he'd been waiting for, so now there was nothing holding him back.

He couldn’t do that with Ifan here, of course. There was little to say, but he knew that it would take a long time to say it. He braced himself for an hour or two of pleasantries and well wishes with the [Merchant]. Ifan deserved that consideration, even if Brin would rather be doing anything else.

He was spared a long, polite conversation when the door to his room banged open again. It was Brych. "Get dressed. We're going now."

He handed Brin a note.

Emergency recall: Return to the Order headquarters immediately. It's begun.

-Galan

The End of Part 3