I once lived and died upon another world. An entity of pure light that appeared before me at the moment of my passing informed me I had lived a good life. I had put others before myself. For a remarkable act of selflessness at the end of my life, I was rewarded with a second life in a new world.

  “Why me?” I recall asking the mysterious entity.

  “The soul remains the same,” It replied.

  Was it a question or a statement? The entity did not elaborate and as a disembodied spirit, I felt blasé about the idea of being reincarnated. The divine being told me that this new world needed me. The last thing I remember about my encounter with the divine entity was that they then touched my ephemeral soul, and I awoke in a baby’s cradle.

  The world called Aramyr is a place of many races, fantastical creatures and God-like entities. Knights in plate armor, gentlemen dueling in the streets, wizards casting spells and so forth. I was rather delighted to be honest. However, if the entity was correct and the soul remains the same, then mine must be a soul that desires a peaceful, predictable life.

  Someone sneezed and excused themselves. I looked around, drawn out from my daydreaming. I shared the Scriptorium with three other young men, each a novice scarcely older than I. Each was pale from too much time indoors with the tonsured haircut most monks sported. One of them, Brother Ancis, leaned over and whispered to another novice.

  “I hope Father Wolric lets us have some of the Pyrbud Tea at supper tonight. It’s still so cold out and the tea always warms me best.”

  “I’d rather have wine, myself,” said Brother Callum. I looked over at the blond haired novice. He was the oldest of us by a few years. “I swear Brother Cammon always looks like he dips into it regardless. That big red nose gives his self-indulgence away!” The other novices chortled and I smiled. Brother Cammon did have a bright red nose, but he also had hair growing out of his ears and more years behind him than most of the other monks. If Father Wolric gave him leeway with the Abbey wine, what of it?

  “May Ord bless him regardless,” said Brother Mulp. He was a quiet boy the same age as I and talented with paints. He was currently copying a section from a tattered old Gospel of Ord several centuries old and the new vellum was slowly coming alive with color and illumination few could hope to match. My compliments about his work were always sincere, but Mulp was the modest son of a baker from Cozyfields. He never mentioned what his Scribing level was, but I knew it had to have been higher than my current level-just shy of 9.

  Each Novice had their own backgrounds and hopes for the future within the Church of Light and a part of me envied them. I thought about sitting by a fire in a cushioned, high backed chair drinking Pyrbud Tea and discussing theological mysteries with other monks. It was a pleasant thought, if an idle one. I looked down at my own work on the desk before me. It was all facts and figures of enchanted items that dropped in Dungeons and beside it I had an open book of the laws describing how to calculate the tax rates associated with Dungeon drops.

  Ord save me, is this really the life I want? Calculating tax rates for loot drops?

  I would have to support myself somehow, I knew. I was the 4th son and would inherit nothing, after all. My father expects me to continue my studies at St. Ioven until I completed the prerequisites to gain the Merchant class.

  My eye was caught by a sparkle from the window high above. The stained glass captured the light’s sun and broke it into a myriad of colors that washed across my desk and lit up my scribblings and figures. I waved a hand over it, as if I could brush the light away. One of my parchment pages was knocked to the floor and with a sigh I reached down to pick it up.

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  What’s this? Beside one of my desk legs was a small, blue stone the size of a walnut. Uh oh, this is one of those…now what did Brother Obel call it? A Stone of Clairvoyance.

  Yes, I remembered now. Just a few days ago, Brother Callum and I had been working out the numbers on market price fluctuations that occurred during Dungeon Breaks. Those were rare thankfully, but Brother Obel had shown us a handful of these stones while making an example.

  “These are called Stones of Clairvoyance, Master Kenric. Do you know what they are for?” Brother Obel said and he dropped a few of them into my hand. I held one up to my candle. The light played off its facets and when I looked closer I saw a small bead of light held within it.

  “I don’t know, Brother Obel, but it is very pretty.”

  Brother Obel chuckled. “Pretty, yes and also useful in some situations. Now, normally they can be found rather cheaply in the Ordheim Market or in one of the many Guild Auction Houses. When you break one…,” Brother Obel crushed one in the palm of his hand and I stared in amazement as a blue light traveled from Brother Obel’s hand in a winding path through the air and out the door, “They have a tendency to lead one to where they need to go.”

  “Where they need to go, Brother? I don’t understand.” I marveled at the path of light being traced from the old monk and out of the room. I didn’t often get to witness magic at work and I felt my heart quicken in excitement. Brother Obel chuckled at my expression.

  “Consider this, young man. Is there something you need to do? Something you may have misplaced? Does someone need your help and you cannot locate them? Stones of Clairvoyance have a way of leading you to where you need to be in those instances.”

  “A most handy item to have then, Brother. I would value it highly.”

  Brother Obel shrugged. “Typically only a silver each. Not a small sum for some, but not a lot to many others. During Dungeon Breaks?” Brother Obel hissed through his teeth and shook his head as he poured the stones back into a small leather pouch. “When monsters run amock to Ord knows where and folk panic and become separated from loved ones?” He gently shook the bag. “One of these stones can become invaluable sending their price as high as ten silver each!”

  “That sounds like profiteering during a crisis, Brother Obel. My father has forbidden that.”

  “Indeed he has,” Brother Obel answered with a smile. “Ordheim is fortunate to have him as their Duke, but these stones are enchanted items that only drop in Dungeons. The duchy of Ordheim has only two permanent dungeons within its borders, The Creeping Bog and Tower of the Gray. It is a matter of opinion whether that is good or bad, but regardless it limits the amount of these stones that come to the Ordheim market. Supply and demand, dear boy. Supply and demand.”

  I was brought out of my memory when the Scriptorium door opened and Brother Clovis walked in.

  “Quick, look busy,” Brother Callum whispered under his breath. With a disapproving frown on his face, Brother Clovis stalked over and gazed down at us. Brother Clovis was a large man with a monk’s tonsured haircut and a large skin tag smack dab atop his head. It was like he was wearing a small hat and it was hard not to stare at it when you saw him. One quickly learned not to stare at Brother Clovis. He had an overly aggressive personality for a monk. I quickly pocketed the stone with the intention of returning it to Brother Obel later.

  “A whisper carries farther than one might think in a room that was designed specifically for the meditative silence of doing Ord’s work.” The novices all looked down chastised and I felt embarrassed as well. Brother Clovis, despite his looks and grumpy attitude, was still a reasonable man and a senior monk.

  “Forgive us, Brother Clovis,” Mulp said.

  “Days can ofttimes stretch when one is illuminating old manuscripts for hours on end,” Brother Callum spoke up. Brother Ancis nodded in agreement and rubbed his wrist. Brother Clovis sniggered.

  “In those moments then, Brother Callum, we turn to the Seventh and Final Gospel of Ord, Verse 20, Paragraph 12. ‘As the Divine Mana took purchase in Man after the Ascendance, His voice spoketh from above one final time to the assembled upon the Sacred Hill….

  “‘Find Joy in your renewed purpose and that purpose is to carry out my will upon Aramyr forevermore.’” I answered, finishing the quote. Brother Clovis nodded and gave a rare smile.

  “Well done, Master Ordheim. I can see you have been given a proper education and have taken it seriously. If only certain others shared your dedication!”

  I ignored Callum’s glare and nodded. It wasn’t like I had a choice about what I was forced to commit to memory especially with a Mother as devoted to Ord as mine was. Still, the Seven Gospels of Ord did make for some interesting reading, even if they were wrapped up in metaphors and hyperbole.

  “Now then,” Brother Clovis continued, “Clean your tools and store your inks and paints thoroughly. You are finished for the day.” Everyone eagerly began putting their things away after wiping their pens and cleaning their brushes. I finished first as I had only a pen and ink to deal with, as I was only leveling up Scribing and not Illumination as the others were. “Father Wolric has invited you to join us for supper, if it please you, Master Ordheim.”

  “Thank you, Brother Clovis. I believe I will.”