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Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Vagabond

  Newton, I forgot his surname, was the first person I’d encountered when I’d hit the Nexus. He’d struck me as a bit of a slick salesman, looking to scam the newbie into hiring an absolutely unneeded guide. I’d sent him on his way. I’d seen him again, getting roughed up in an alley.

  Roughed up by halflings, apparently from his own Clan. Or former Clan.

  He was a Vagabond, a Guest kicked out of the Clan. Which meant he was basically stuck in the Nexus. Or so I’d been told by a wandering Dwarf.

  I felt kind of bad that I hadn’t gone and learned anymore.

  The halfling had a camp set up in the woods. A tent, really just a tarp over a length or rope, with the ends held down by rocks and other heavy materials he’d scavenged from somewhere. The appearance of the dagger showed he still had access to his inventory, so there was no need to have supplies scattered around the camp. Aside from the tent, there wasn’t much to it.

  “What do you want?” he grumbled, glaring at me.

  I didn’t know if he recognized me or not.

  “Nothing,” I answered. “I was just wandering the woods and heard some noises, so thought I’d investigate.”

  “Wandering the woods?” he said, looking at me suspiciously. “No one does that. There’s no reason to.”

  “I’m new here. I wanted to explore.”

  The dagger, which had been pointing right at me, dropped a bit as Newton leaned forward to study me. He had to recognize me. With my hat, jacket, and clothing, I stood out. Everyone else in the Nexus had some variations of the traditional fantasy garb I’d seen in movies, read in books and all that. Armor, both metal and leather, weapons, helms. Some of it was pretty exotic looking, but it all fit the fantasy motif.

  And then there was me.

  And Fred, who wore his cowboy hat and duster.

  But I stood out.

  Newton’s eyes narrowed, and then widened as he recognized me.

  “You’re that new guy from Terra. The one that's causing all kinds of ruckus and interest.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Great,” Newton said, turning away. “You found the source of the noise. Go and bother someone else.”

  He went back to what he’d been doing, which looked like whittling. There were wood shavings on the ground around his large hairy feet, he wasn’t wearing shoes. In his hand was a small bladed, but sharp looking, knife and he held a block of black wood. I couldn’t tell what shape it was taking.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, which wasn’t the original question but for now it would do.

  He glanced over his shoulder, scowling at me.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Just curious. I didn’t realize whittling was a craft.”

  The Celestial Challenge System didn’t have crafting Essences, or Abilities, like some games had. But it had Essences that could be used in crafting. The person just had to learn how to do the actual crafting themselves. There was a whole part of the Instructional Tutorial for people that wanted to become Crafters.

  Newton scoffed, returning his attention to the block of wood. He trimmed a couple more shavings off. Slowly, he changed the angles of the knife, smoothing out the corner he’d trimmed. It started to take on a rounded shape.

  “For most races, it’s not a craft. Even for my people, it’s more a hobby. Sure can sell what you make, but it’s just statues and stuff. Knickknacks. Not worth it for most people.”

  I studied Newton and I mean really studied him. HIs back anyways as he’d turned away from me. His clothes were dirty and ragged. Like he hadn’t changed in awhile. Which was a bit odd since he had an inventory space, but how many people kept changes of clothes in their inventory?

  But what I was really looking at was him and his Arcanum. I couldn’t feel it. I didn’t have that kind of Essence, like some folks did. But I was pretty good at judging when people were using it. And Newton was using his Arcanum as he carved.

  It was similar to when I’d seen a blacksmith work. They physically made the weapons and armor but during the process they’d infuse the metal with their Arcanum Core as well as the Essences they had. It was how they made magic weapons. I called them magic weapons because they were like the ones in games and movies. But the weapons and armor were technically Arcanum-Infused, or enchanted as most of us used.

  Newton was infusing Arcanum into the block of wood. It was very subtle. Most people wouldn’t even see it, no matter what Level they were. He was very skilled at hiding the use.

  “What does the Arcanum do to the carving?” I asked.

  Newton’s head snapped around, eyes wide in surprise. They quickly turned suspicious.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Now go away and leave me alone.”

  Before he could turn away I gave him a flat look, one that said I knew he was lying and to just stop. He sighed, shaking his head.

  “Nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the work but looking down at it. “It just makes it brighter and stronger.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I knew he was lying. I probably would have left him alone, it was obvious he wanted that, but now I was curious. Not just about him but what he was doing with the wood block. What would the purpose of infusing it with Arcanum be? And what Essences was he using?

  I walked around his little campsite, coming to a stop opposite him. I crouched down, watching his knife slide across the wood block. The wood was a dark black, with some glints of something else in it. Was that from his Arcanum or natural?

  He looked up at me, glared, then went back to whittling. It didn’t last long. With a sigh he set the wood block down, but still held the knife, looking up at me.

  “What do you want?”

  I shrugged.

  “I really don’t know,” I replied. “I’ve seen you around, heard a little bit about being a vagabond.” His expression darkened and I quickly moved on. “But that has me really curious.” I pointed at the block. “Those red tints to the wood, is that from your Essence and infusion or part of the wood.”

  Newton picked the block back up, holding it and turning it, looking at the bits of red color spread through the block. The wood disappeared, going into his inventory.

  “What wood?” he said.

  I just stared at him. He realized I wasn’t going to give up. Truthfully, I really didn’t know why I was so curious about him. I’d seen the way he’d been treated, and that resonated. I hated bullies and I hated how some people felt that the strength given in the System, and how it prioritized that strength, gave them a reason to bully others.

  “How’d you sense the infusion?” he asked.

  I figured if I wanted to get anything out of him, I had to give something.

  “One of my Essences,” I said. “The way I use it, it kind of lets me sense energy movement.”

  He probably figured I wasn’t telling the full truth, but I actually was. I’d discovered long ago that Arcanum infusion was a kind of kinetic energy, and while I couldn’t manipulate it, I could still sense it, just like I could any kind of physical use of Arcanum. Someone launching a fireball at me? I could feel the kinetic energy of the fireball’s motion.

  It was far from a perfect early warning system, but it had saved me a few times over the years.

  “Huh,” Newton said. “Guess that makes sense.” He sighed. “Yeah, the red comes from an Essence.”

  “What are you infusing into the wood and why?”

  Newton shrugged.

  “Kind of a hobby. Not very practical,” he said a bit ruefully.

  Now that he was talking, it was obvious that he was kind of starved for interaction. I’m sure all the interactions he got were either him trying to scam someone or his Faction beating on him. It’d probably been a while since he’d had anyone interested in what he was doing. And with the ages of Awakened, it could have been a very long time.

  A carved wooden bird popped out of his inventory. It looked to have been carved from a light colored wood, there were hints of blue scattered through. The detail was amazing. I could see almost every feather, lines in the talons. He set it on the ground. I could feel a pulse of Arcanum and the bird came alive. The wings unfolded from the body, the beak opening but no sound coming out. The wooden bird took a step forward. It seemed to float into the air.

  I could feel the movement of the Arcanum that powered the carving.

  “That’s awesome,” I said, and meant it.

  Newton shrugged. The bird flew around for a bit. I could feel Newton feeding more Arcanum into it and the thing moved around the little clearing. It swooped and darted, spun in a spiral and then landed. The halfling stopped feeding it Arcanum and the carving became still, frozen in the original form.

  “It’s a neat trick,” Newton said. “Nothing more.”

  “Neat trick? That was really cool,” I said, still impressed.

  Newton shrugged, placing the carving back into his Inventory. He looked up at me, as if wondering why I was still there. He looked kind of sad. Pathetic in a way. And I felt bad for the guy, but I didn’t know his story. I couldn’t imagine how, but maybe he deserved being stuck on Crossroads.

  Not the beatings. If he’d done anything bad enough to get beatings, then he should have just been killed outright.

  There was more to the story and I wanted to find out what.

  “So what happened?” I asked, figuring it best to just get to the heart of the matter.

  He looked up at me sharply, a bit of anger in his eyes. I got it. The question was pretty damn personal. I held up my hands.

  “I’m curious how this happened,” I said, waving my hand at the camp in the woods. “I get it if you don’t want to tell me. I’ll understand.” I paused, crouching down to look at him. “But I want to help.”

  He stared at me for a long time. Just stared, measuring, studying. The glare was hard at first but then it somewhat softened.

  “Why?,” he finally said.

  “I don’t like bullies,” I replied. “The System here is screwed up. It’s not right that a Faction can keep you trapped like this,” I continued, waving at the camp again. “And not even let you go home?”

  Newton sighed.

  He leaned back a bit, shifting to get more comfortable. It seemed like he wasn’t going to answer, probably trying to come up with a way to tell me to bugger off or whatever phrase they used in his world. The silence stretched and I was just about to get up, figuring he was a lost cause.

  I’d seen people like that before. Ones that just gave up. The System had done them wrong, done everyone wrong, but they just didn’t have the ability to get up and take the bull by the horns. They lacked the ability to get over the hill and see what was on the other side.

  There was a lot about the System that sucked, but there were some good things to. And we were stuck with it. We had to live with it. So if they let it push them down, hold them down, that was no life. Newton had no life.

  But Newton surprised me. He started talking.

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