Gold, the untarnishable color we all know and love. Similarly, can anything really be said about the Fisher King story? It's had enough variations as to be obscured in its own right, but the principle remains untainted: the parable of a king whose character is reflected by the land he rules. Whether it's the Portrait of Dorian Gray or any of a million villains seeking life eternal, the concept holds the mind on a deeper level than pure logic by painting morality as a real force. Even those faults we find sympathetic can be the source of terrible consequences, when projected against the impersonal backdrop of power and privilege.
Here it's probably just a dude who loves to fish. We're not even a king, do we qualify? I don't think those kinds of ruling elite powers are in our character as voters to develop, if Ennobling getting ignored for Vigor Itself was anything to judge by. Might and charisma are eminently trustworthy, and we tend to prefer waifus to brofus besides. That the Fisher King was about how a ruler cannot rely solely on being a great warrior is a sloppy segue, but nevertheless a point worth making.
There were no prey for Gisena's blast-fishing experiment in the river, but scarce hours later they encountered a picturesque lake, freshwater glittering in the sun and spanning very nearly to the horizon. Lilies bobbed across its expansive surface as birds and bugs circled lazily about, the halcyon chorus of life uninterrupted.
Was this Accretion in action, or just actual good luck? We're exhausted right now so it's possibly just the latter, pretty places do actually exist all over when dealing in untouched wilderness. Which the Voyaging Realm literally mostly is at any given time, owing to their stupidly vast and ever-shifting labyrinth of random encounter tables and Fate Tectonics topography. That it's not just beautiful but apparently harmonic is intriguing though...
"Well, this is downright idyllic!" Gisena exclaimed, spinning around to face the water. She skipped happily down to the shore, humming as she went.
"It's downright suspicious." He followed, keeping his eyes peeled. They'd spoken of fishing, and a fishing spot appeared. It could be benign, the world yielding to his whims on this small matter - a faint echo of the causality-bending influence he'd once exerted by sheer power of spirit.
Gisena skipping sounds absolutely charming, in the sense that everything she does is literally mentally influential to witness. Also cute as hell, but personality does factor in a lot there.
How the hell does the Astral work if it actualizes quantum phenomena anyway? Does it actually fold timelines or is it just forcing through sub-entropic functions in a convenient legend-shaped package? We're all pretty okay with Hunger slowly becoming the wrapping to our ever-growing mythical egg roll, but does that mean his spiritual corpus is slowly folding in on itself, qualities echoing internally so loud that external reality will one day become unable to even variate in his presence? It's not any less possible than whatever was going on with Jotarun and the Maiden at least.
Not sure if Gisena's happy reaction was a pre-emptive means of keeping Hunger from avoiding the pond out of paranoia, I'd trust the sorceress's instincts more but even she doesn't necessarily know why she does things. The qualities of
findross induce perfection without the in-between steps of inception or development, so her Nullity is inhumanly effective despite having done nothing but cosplay professionally as the Maiden for some 15-20 years.
Long seconds passed. Nothing struck at them, from ambush or otherwise; he settled into a watchful wariness.
Letrizia had Verschlengorge extend a hand over the water, acting as a makeshift pier. He carved a rudimentary fishing rod from a branch and some wire, while Gisena tinkered with one of the Armament's dumb-fire munitions, its fuses safely set aside.
I like how the 'or otherwise' is almost an afterthought here. Hunger knows it's unlikely, but he's seen too much already in his line of work to believe that he
couldn't sit down to go fishing and end up challenged to a deathmatch by a wandering panda or lakebed kelpie before he finished throwing the line.
Also, in the far-future world of the Human Sphere, smart weaponry is so ubiquitous the alternative has entered common parlance and is used without fanfare. Are we dealing with a tomorrow so advanced that even sidearms can have minor AI for stabilizing gyroscopes and recoil mitigation? How about waste heat, have they finally found a way to recycle that efficiently without risking catastrophic meltdown? Have they at last managed to invent tires that don't go flat in the cold?
"You go first," he handed Letrizia the rod, and some processed meat for bait. "It's simple. Flick the rod to cast the line and wait."
"A-alright." Letrizia took the rod from him and cast the line with a determined expression. "How long does it usually take?"
"Depends," he shrugged. "Could be minutes, could be hours."
You'll always be the [Master Baiter] in my heart, Hunger. Using the ancient and terrible fishing arts on such a sweet and innocent young woman, all just so you can take a nap!
"That long?" She asked petulantly. "Couldn't you hunt the fish with your physical power? You slew an Astral beast the size of a giant!"
"I'd rather rest for a time," he replied, settling in. "That bandit leader was well-equipped and skilled. I exerted myself more than I'd like. The well of my power has thinned."
"Hmph," She tossed her hair primly. "So, we're to wait your pleasure while you rest? You could just as easily sleep while Verschlengorge is moving."
"Yes, you're to wait," he said dryly. "And fish."
I think the comparison of effort expended between those slaughters should demonstrate how size has no real relation to Astral Rank. I guess if you're a literal animal it makes it easier for you to build a legend by being big and scary, but come on. Or do they get bigger and more intimidating by having Feats and Rank? I get the feeling I'm going to be asking questions to that effect a lot with this magic system...
I wonder if an intelligent beast might be able to use its own body parts for a panoply? The Muscle Wizard build implied we could have an option that centered our might in our own flesh, but what manner of advancements would open up to customize such a choice? I doubt we'll ever know, degeneracy of such proud and noble vintage as that is too much for us. Better to stay dry upon the branch than to drown in that ocean of magnificence.
"A-ah."
They sat in silence for a bit.
"W-well, that's just totally unreasonable!" She finally said, turning to glare at him.
"I never told you I was going to be reasonable."
"That's true... Wait, I-I mean, you shouldn't have to tell people that! Reasonableness is the expected order of things!"
"Do as you like. I'm resting here."
That Doom dodge, so casual you'd think it was innate. Was he this much of a social heavyweight before the Accursed showed up? If his wife managed to keep up with this kind of attitude back when he was still Rank 6+, how much willpower did she have? Was she a Ranking elite too, daughter of the Tyrant and second only to his own saber? If so, what kind of agony did it drive her to sever that tie – or did his legend make an escape possible, abducting the Tyrant's ideal of Treachery just as much as the Forebear's Blade stole away the weight of his Age?
Blind speculation above, but justifiable. He must have had conversations like these so often back then, with what friends he could gather and what food he could scrounge up. What memories remain to him would have to include a few of those, heartfelt joy and honest gratitude for their time together inextricably tied to his knowledge of them as people. How bittersweet then this tiny excursion must be, to add another to that collection of fishing buddies, a second tapestry of scars visible only in the ripples of pond-water.
"Mmh..." Letrizia slouched unhappily.
He chewed on a stalk of grass. "Hey. What do you think our chances of getting out of here are? Eight out of ten? Nine?"
"At least nine, I'd hope! Both you and Miss Gisena are strong... maybe ninety-five out of a hundred times we should escape? As long as we don't have too many encounters like today."
"I tend to attract trouble. So does this guy." He gestured towards the Armament with his head.
I never thought I'd be forced to consider that Hunger might secretly be a Grovyle, but here we are. What if he knows how to grass whistle, does that mean he's also Dycedarg's Elder Brother? We have recently learned a sword-skill best described as Heavenly...
The impromptu comparison between Hunger and Devouring Armament is well-founded, we now know. For all the Space Opera conceits, it's a weapon of unbearable power crafted to straddle the line between hero and monster. Power is as power does, and for those willing to bear the burden of self-doubt, the eternal Pyrrhic spectre hanging overhead may yet be crown and throne to an empire worthy of the name.
"Hmph! True enough. Maybe if you were a bit more reasonable, that wouldn't be the case."
"Fire me if you like. I'll retire and become a fisherman."
She laughed. "I'd like to see that!"
"Point is, we don't know exactly what the future will bring, or if we're all going to make it. It's worthwhile to look around and enjoy this place every once in a while. Steal what joy you can."
The weathered veteran wisdom on display here is strong. It's a strange thing to hear from a Cursebearer, but then the man beneath the Frame is always more interesting. Also more Interesting. I can't wait to see in what ways our desire to take time to ourselves and steal joy from the world can be wielded against us. Surprise attacks are intense, sure... but what of surprise con-artists, or surprise Condition upgrades?
I also don't think Letrizia's being entirely facetious there. It's a pleasant thought, the old battle-scarred slayer and savior finally allowed to find peace beside the gentle waters. Not realistic, but then dreams are beautiful precisely because they aren't real, but are instead derived from them. Her sincere well-wishes are appreciated, and paint a picture of a woman whose heart is warmer and more caring than Ms. Soryu-Langley's ever was.
Letrizia looked down, her expression conflicted. "You're right. You're right, of course, but..."
He closed his eyes, letting his instincts guide him. "You feel like you don't have time for that. That people are depending on you. That if you don't achieve what you've set out to achieve, it will all have been for nothing."
If it weren't true it wouldn't sting so bad. That kind of weight can bury a person, change the way they view the world. It's not a martyr's road, at least not in my opinion. But it's not a way to win at anything, not by letting yourself be undermined by turning what should be a source of strength into a weakness. The millions who you're trying not to think of as a statistic can't realistically ever know what you did or why, but they will likely suffer for it somehow either way.
The Brand of the Champion is cruel, Accursed in origin or otherwise. Always another demon to banish, royal to save, empire to conquer. Little Timmy's down in his well, and no one else ever has rope and bucket to spare. The desire to prove oneself fades in the face of Sisyphean repetition; the mantra of eternal struggle loses power with the realization of asymmetric consequence. Winning becomes like breathing: you die when you stop.
She gasped. "H-how did you-"
"I felt the same, once." He paused, thinking carefully.
"There was a magic in my second world. Hard to quantify or explain. As you accumulated power you could do impossible feats. My enemy was very skilled in it. He'd spent centuries upon centuries gathering strength. Fighting him was like fighting the tide. Endless setbacks every week. Whenever we failed, people died. Whenever we didn't act, people died. I fought him for eleven years. If we hadn't taken what moments we could, however brief, we would have lasted... maybe five or six. That final stretch, it was only the strength that I'd gained in those moments which kept me going."
And this right here is the textbook social-hammer. Experience, charisma, willpower. He tells her he's been there, and then follows through by articulating it in vivid detail. You can
feel how much he's leaving out, how many stories he's folding together within each sentence.
The picture he paints is dark to the point of dystopia. A foe with power over fate itself, rigidly devouring every enemy that lacks the sheer might to topple him outright. Not bothered by a thousand cuts, in fact he almost seems to enjoy it that way for the misery and despair it drills into everyone involved. He is not the stream-trapped fish or the stream-breaking rock, but the riverbed whose eldritch groove gives the stream shape. Anything not following its course will dry up or be washed away. He is Age and Treachery, personified and embodied.
Like the Cultivators of Even Further Beyond, I must ask if he was always so terrible. Certainly he was once a child and then a man, but what was the moment he scarred into his spirit the words that would one day become him? Was it worth the cost, or did he sell his soul in vain? The shadow he cast over Hunger's second world was deep and dark, but we know next to nothing of the man who cast it.
She blushed. "I-I get it. You d-didn't have to make a whole speech and everything."
"Stupid."
"What?"
"'You didn't have to make a whole speech and everything, stupid.' Say it properly. What is the nobility coming to these days?"
MC Red Ring, Hungry on the mic! Even in space, no one can hear you Weeb.
It's a great line, right out of nowhere. Dialogue's so clean it's actually alien to me. Do I just not read the right books? Do I need to watch more Anime? Is it possible to learn this power?
"You! Aaah... I was trying so hard not to be a stereotype! Is this how everyone sees me, even you and Miss Gisena? That stupid Old Terra show..."
"I don't remember much. Bits and pieces. But you have to admit... the Armament. And you kind of look like her."
"Yeah. Neuron Genesis Cathedrelion, right? It's been a joke for almost as long as we've had the Armaments. I even got implants to change my hair..."
Hmm... did her peers avoid the subject, or has she been in denial? It's not something that should come up often in polite conversation, but the reference wouldn't go unmade forever. Not that I've ever seen the show itself, but from everything I've heard that's a cruel comparison to make anyway. No boy wants to be Shinji, I imagine the same is true of girls and Asuka?
On the other side of the fourth wall, I respect the willingness to acknowledge the reference up front. That's commitment to the design docs right there. I have to ask though: how the hell did they preserve a TV-Brand EVA variant series from all the way back on Old Terra well into the 'modern' times? Is it a relic, a museum piece? Has it been bought and sold and preserved by fans carefully against the tide of constant remakes? If anyone's actually died to protect the memory of Hideaki Anno's masterpiece, I think he'd be rolling in his Astral grave.
"What?" He sat up. "So you're a natural redhead as well?"
Her hair shimmered for a moment, then shifted to a shade of fiery red. "Y-yeah. I thought white was more professional and would break the association, but everyone was like, 'That's exactly what she'd do!'"
Oof, that's disquieting. The effort to distinguish oneself, not only failing but reversed back onto her. Did she just have tone-deaf friends or were they jabbing at her? I suppose with teenagers it can be hard to tell, especially in the wealth-studded world of interstellar ducal politics.
Wait, were all of her other friends chibi pastiches of lesser-known anime characters? Nevermind this is the best secret plot point, I'm not kidding. A playpen full of little kids with blinky magic eyes and little nerf swords, growing up into elementary schoolers with backpacks full of badly-disguised Japanese textbooks... I dare not imagine further afield than Middle School, err my image of Ms. Von Atriez be forever stained by the phantom impression of mega-crossover space opera high school AU Asuka.
I thought I'd have more to say about her at-will hair shimmer. Apparently those implants aren't
dye implants, but rather something else entirely? Perhaps dye can be activated or deactivated at will, which means she can swap between making Ritz Malheur feel bad about herself and not.
...was that pun intentional? Is the Voyaging Realm a simulation of some kind, and that's why the Rings are all in here? I could believe a world with Astral Rank would be able to manifest any number of metaphysical pseudo-Universes. It would explain why objects of such incredible meta-cosmic power are seemingly incarnated perfectly into this one location of locations; it's not just constructed, it's
semi-illusory, drawing from realms of fiction and fantasy to divine cosmic truths and then express them as if literally true. If the boss of the Temple is Li-Grim, I'mma scream. (In a good way.)
"Don't fight it. Embrace it. Then people will naturally see the areas where you're different."
"Oh? L-like what?"
"You're childish at times, but on balance I'd say you're much more level-headed and mature than she was. She always acted like she had something to prove. You're truly comfortable piloting Verschlengorge. You and he have a good connection. Though not as good as mine with my sword."
It kills your enemies, it saves your life, it regrows your limbs, it makes you swole, it keeps you motivated, it helps you grow, it supports you no matter what...
Truly, the Forebear's Blade is best girl.
"Well," She said quietly, failing to contain a smile. "I am five years older. Of course I'd be more mature!"
He nodded, leaning back down again.
Got 'er. Just swept that entire pile of natural teenage self-doubt under the rug, replacing it with keen advice and no small amount of simple reaffirmation. It happens on its own, but it's quicker if someone just shows you there.
But is it really? Probably from the point of view of someone like Hunger or Gisena, who are idealized medieval fantasy protagonists on the level of Arthur Pendragon and Jeanne d'Arc respectively. The idea of time spent questioning oneself internally as a good thing for its own sake is beyond luxurious to someone whose world turns on translating power into purpose and then back again. In a way they're controlling how many people have narratives competing with their own. Selfish in that regard, but all too likely the moral option when the alternative is a life of struggle and self-compromise. It's the pathfinder's wish for others to follow in word, not in spirit.
"Hey," She spoke up again. "That magic from your old world. It sounds a bit like the power of the Armaments. Have you ever heard of the concept of Astral Rank?"
"We didn't formally name it or anything. If you lived and did great things, you grew powerful. As your power grew, the world started to yield to you. First in small ways, then increasingly so."
"It's actually a field of study that I dabble in. A hobby of mine!"
It must be awesome to have friends whose hobbies are so eminently
useful. Competence memes aside, I've no clear answer as to the difference between a viable resource and trivia. Is it the sincerity of pursuit, an exceptional attribute explored in detail, an unconscious acquiescence to the ideal of power, or pure chance? The Accursed's chosen could turn any quality, process, or concept to power – but what makes it possible for the common specimen to do the same?
I wouldn't be surprised if individuals suited to a role as a Companion Remitance were as rare as viable Cursebearers themselves.
As an aside, learning about Accretion back on the previous world must have been a time-consuming process. How does one distinguish between power born of supremacy and supremacy born of power? Time distorts all kinds of information, the specifics of continuity most of all. There's no reason I can see to believe these hypothetical dominant identities to have been fact and not fiction, unless one had access to a soul-crushingly long lifespan or insane record-keeping.
Did Hunger learn of its laws from a Fairy, or was it the Tyrant's own propaganda that gave it away with the passing of centuries? The Tyrant's obsessive following of Age and Treachery now makes more sense, at least generally: lies and long life literally made him stronger as time went. Enemies die? Paint them as your doing for power. Friends die? Claim they were traitors and use them as justification for massacre. More power, more murder, a longer life defined by outliving your foes, the story continues on into infinity like a TV Serial that just won't die. Perhaps all who wear Rank must eventually contend the Doom of Zombie Simpsons.
She shifted to face him directly, tracing figures in the air with her index finger. "The most commonly used analogy is this. So, you know how objects within the physical realm have a property called mass?"
"Sure."
"Mass distorts physical space. Some say the curvature of that distortion is called gravity."
"Okay."
"Similarly, some entities have a property we call 'Rank.' Rank distorts the Astral realm as mass does the physical, and the curvature of that distortion is called 'Pressure.' By exerting Pressure, an Armament can accomplish great feats. It's an amazing ability! Rank gives you the power to achieve the conventionally impossible, to overturn the system of the world, to blast with awe and with fear, greatness undiluted like a blazing star! It cares nothing for stipulations or prognostications. It is the sharp bright sword of will that cuts to the heart of the matter, bringing mere physical law to heel!"
Hah, that's the quote used for Sharpbright later on! It's pretty sick, I'm glad our apprentice wizard daughter has a magic soul-sword too. Gisena has the chance to get a sword too – a metaphorical one, but the Perfecting Blade, a blade remains! The comparison to gravity is very straightforward, which I respect. But it begs the question as to what warping Astral space – the psychic conceptual ocean which encompasses everything that is, was, will be, will not be, and could never have been – actually entails. Quantum physics and its panoply of hypotheses numerous and convoluted aside, what does it mean for the setting that causality itself is already constantly being mannequin-posed by the subconscious desires of sufficiently impressive personalities?
It sounds like the kind of thing that spawns monsters. Astral monsters, if you will.
"...I get it. You didn't have to make a whole speech and everything, stupid."
Before her shocked expression could subside, he gently raised a hand.
"Just kidding. It was a wonderful explanation. Did you write that? It sounds like more than just a hobby to you."
Yes Letrizia, we're going there again. Get out your snorkel, 'cause you're gettin'
dunked.
Her speech actually was pretty inspiring too. More than its structure, she wrote it well with her own energy and speaking voice in mind. It noticeably leaves enough time to gauge whether the audience is listening before the big explanation comes in, which speaks to a lot of experience for someone so young. Wealth hasn't been a social crutch for her, that's for sure.
"Mm-hm!" She grunted, her face still red. She cleared her throat. "I'm hoping to present it at a Symposium one day. The Armaments have been with us for millennia, but we still don't understand all their secrets. Even most pilots only know the basics! You compress your Armament's Pressure into a Shroud and that makes you unstoppable within its radius. But recent studies have shown that even humans can develop a Rank! If we properly apply ourselves, we can go so much farther as a species, and even as individuals! It wouldn't much surprise me if your powers operated off a similar principle!"
"A shadow in the Spirit realm, huh... Let's test it. It sounds like your society has developed quantified measurements for this attribute."
"Yup. Rank is usually measured from 1 to 10 in a hyper-logarithmic scale, though values above that should be possible. An Ereadhihr - an Armament - at full theoretical strength is Rank 10. No amount of physical force can so much as impair their actions! We've made some Armor Prototypes that manage to reach the middle ranks, enough to outclass conventional weapons in dogfighting or ground combat scenarios, though no number of them could even compete with an Armament. Individual humans typically have a Rank between 1 and 3, with anything above 2 being exceptionally rare."
I suppose pilots
wouldn't know that much, since they only live 5~10 years in the saddle before they're too weak to continue! Combined with the complacency that overwhelming power brings, and I'm not quite surprised that whole mega-cosmic empires are more worried about political and economic instability than the specifics of their proscribed Precurser nuclear option.
The talk of a Shroud is even more interesting in retrospect. While we've seen by now it's a side-effect of having Rank 9+,
we have a Shroud already. The Evening Sky was first touted as one, though we prefer to shape it into a cloak or mantle as whim takes us. Its direct mention of an atomic bomb as the standard for what can scratch us is thusly quite appropriate – that level of firepower's exactly the kind of thing a giant military robot would be compared against. As is its conspicuous major vulnerability to magic-lined attacks, the same kind that other giant robots would be using.
Does this mean the Pirate Lord took his Evening Sky enchantment from a dead or dying Armament Prototype? Was his armor fashioned from one, scoured of tech but retaining its Ranking powers? I cannot even speculate beyond this point. Just keep an eye on that word, I expect it'll come up again.
"That fits my observations of your Armament as well. Its full potential is well beyond even that of my enemy at his height. Ereadhihr. The language of the Foremost?"
"That's right! You have good instincts for this sort of thing." She hummed happily. "Ereadhihr, the Elder Implement. They weren't just a weapon to the Foremost. The Foremost could harness them for countless tasks, bend realms both physical and Astral to their whims, apply the Interdict of Cognition that immunizes us from rampant intelligences, and so much more!"
Instincts, or the connection itself? Our Rank isn't high enough to always be right... but maybe Verschlengorge's is? It's damaged so that's unlikely. That title sounds deeply undersold, as if in translation it's lost everything beyond the skin of its meaning. Perhaps that's the point, like with Tolkien's constructed languages. How does one tell of a machine whose parts sing with power older than the Universe itself?
Also apparently the Interdict of Cognition is a holdover from an earlier quest? I can't speak to that, I haven't even finished reading Bleach Quest yet. I can buy that preventing Grey Goo scenarios is a big deal though, especially with that big glowing neon
'Astral Rank goes here' sign metaphorically sitting above the first true AI whose ascendance represents the victory of techne over mere psyche forevermore. Please ignore the pure organic biology of every Astral monsters we've encountered so far. Move along, move along, Pay no attention to the robotic overlords behind the curtain!
He turned to glance at Verschlengorge. "Did they pull the ladder up behind them? Prevent anyone from making more?"
"Ah, no, we don't think they did anything like that. But... it's complicated. To create a true Armament, an entity with the potential to reach such elevated Rank, there's a special component involved. A sort of... Curse that's inextricable from its core essence. Verschlengorge has one as well, of course. It's called... the Affliction of the Decimator."
And there's the reason for the name. The Fisher King brought about the ruin of his land due to deeply human failings. An iconic predecessor to the King Arthur monomyth, in many ways critical to comprehending its thematic design, it's heart is that of a question of where the man ends and the legend begins. The ideal of duty and honor, a source of motive and method alike for becoming mighty, wise, and glorious – brought low by the imperfect mortal spirit beneath, not scoured by the means of its empowerment but rather elevated beside it. A crude and ungainly thing, not fit to dwell within the same body as so noble a soul, his flaws became the punishment of his empire. What they could not allow him to be, they shouldered in his place unwillingly.
The King protects his people, by length of sword, by weight of throne, by right of crown, by promise eternal. He had the sword, the crown, and the throne – but the promise was lacking. That invisible life-force which distinguishes a human from a zombie, a seed from a sapling, and a white void from a blank canvas... wasn't there. The man was a legend, but somehow despite both his efforts and that of his people, he wasn't the
right one.
He wasn't the King. He was just a Tyrant.
---
[ ] Spill - There's no way this is a coincidence. The only question is, is this the work of the Accursed, or of the Apocryphal Curse? Whatever the case, you need answers. Tell Letrizia a reasonable amount about your own circumstances, the power you command and the Curses you bear. [+Letrizia]
Totally reasonable, she's basically giving away all of her personal interests and also probably some serious (if common knowledge) military secrets to someone she's known for mere days. Maybe she's underestimating us because we're from the Voyaging sticks, but really with how much Hunger's dusted her on the social mat, it's predictably unreasonable to be afraid of her knowing.
At the same time... what kind of youth doesn't know the best way to play an adult is to let them think they're in complete control? Even now, with her in such high regard by us, have we not been baited by her own charisma and passive talent for self-presentation? I'd say telling her our Curses isn't the most dangerous thing here, but rather that social +. Every point put into her is an investment, and the sunk cost fallacy can be terribly subtle and seductive...
[ ] Keep Your Own Counsel - See if you can get more information out of her without disclosing anything about your particular circumstances. It's good to trust; better to trust after you hold all the cards. You've barely known her half a week. You can always tell her more when she proves herself a reliable ally. [+0.5 Arete]
On the other hand, bribes are for squares. While the poker-analogy is appreciated – they had a poker-analogue on his second world? – the fact is that we're strangers in a strange land and improving our support structure is key. The paranoia of a decade of war is born from the reality that trust is necessary for cooperation. Not the appearance of trust, but the actual thing that extends beyond circumstantial ends. Much like Vanreir's Thrust, to over-penetrate is critical to ensure the result in practice. Bonds of convenience buckle and snap under pressure.
Though you intend to rest, fishing is serious business. How much should you exert yourself in catching the fish?
Now we get to the important part. Worlds burning, gods slain, legends unraveled, and the wiles of beautiful women? Nah son, fuck out of here with that weak shit. We goin'
fishing.
Hands raised, how many readers have gone fishing before? It wasn't until I was a teenager I was finally able to go, catching tiny Breem from a pond in a family friend's back yard. I knew nothing of reels or tackle or the principles of bait, but I clearly remember my mother's disappointment that the catfish that was supposed to live in there wasn't willing to come out and play.
It was the furthest thing from relaxing, I can tell you that much!
[ ] None - You'll conserve your energy. You are already wounded, no need to become winded as well.
Boo! Booooo! What is this, practicality and a value for peace and quiet? Why would we want any of that when we could go all-in on the Old Man and the Sea reference? The need for rest is plebeian and vulgar, all the better to over-exert oneself ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶ fishing for glory and honor!
[ ] Substantially - Show 'em how it's done. [+Letrizia, +Improved Nutrition, Tired Condition]
Yes please. Looking back I find it amazing how easy it is to get on Letrizia's good side – it's right between her esophagus and her small intestine! There's a theory I saw mentioned at one point that the Ring of Power has been improving not only Hunger's subjective enjoyment of those things he puts investment into, but also the value of those investments itself. The young Duchess may have had fish dishes of higher quality before in her life – but this is a gift, an expenditure of effort by a near-stranger in a dangerous time. That means more to her than it might possibly should – for the Ring has a mind of its own, and always has.
Whether this is true in whole or even in part is of course unknown, and quite possibly soon-to-be irrelevant besides. But it's worth asking while one looks, if the power wasn't really in the doing all along.
[ ] Of Fishermen, A King - The sharp bright sword of will that cuts to the heart of these waters and brings their mightiest bounty to heel! [+???, +Legendary Fish, +Gisena, -1 Arete or Exhausted condition]
Creature from the Black Lagoon, part 0: a Symbol Turned Action. Guest-Starring a giant monster fish, a girl who loves making wizards cry themselves to sleep, and a deep disrespect for the consequences of physical exhaustion. Score by no one at all, because it's literally just a big-ass fish!
I don't remember why we thought this was a good idea, but we did it anyway. Inside the belly of this demon-freakshow straight from the decklist of Mako Tsunami, we found a bottle. The message within cast us forward onto a quest which would define this quest to the present day, a quest so terrible in its intensity it brought the Apocryphal Curse to mocking recusal. Now we near its conclusion, far grander and more terrible than we could have imagined. The Ring upon our finger is no different, nor the Blade or our Sky. Like the proverbial pale moonlight or the dream-realm of Might's Repose, what laid beneath has surfaced and been laid bare.
I wonder how many other such bottles existed. Is this how the False Moon operates, recognizing the warp and flexion of Rank in motion and planting a half-real signature to draw in contenders? The Moon's power is so caked in falsehood and power over such that it becomes difficult to disentangle the truth from its semi-circular siblings. I still cannot be sure that it does not let on only what it wishes others to see; for Hunger, a damsel to be saved; for the Temple denizens, a power source to unite and support their greed; for others perhaps, a means to an end? What if this is all a trap, and the Ring is the greatest deceiver of them all?
I guess we'll find out soon enough.
