As the courier had promised, it hadn't taken the overloaded wagon very long to reach Sedgewick. The horse pulled it over the old stonework bridge, spanning the large brook which cut across the front of the town, not pausing, or slowing even as it hit the small incline up to the town. As the road began to bend to the left, Johannes looked at the stonework buildings with tall, pointed roofs and smiled. Good to see some things never changed. Too many villages updated things, especially after fires or orc attacks, or even fires caused by orc attacks. It seemed that Sedgewick had avoided its share of disasters, or the village elders had been wise enough to always rebuild in the traditional style.

Why, even his favorite tavern was still there! Many a time he had stopped in during his travels, but not for several decades. Or maybe longer? So hard to keep the years straight when one had so much to get done! Making an altogether frivolous decision, he decided to stow the wagon in the livery stable and see about a room. Normally he slept in the wagon, but for once he desired the taste of a good, dark lager and perhaps some discussion with a wandering sage or poet.

As luck would have it, the stable boy was there caring for animals in the stalls, "Boy? I say, Stableboy! I need to stow my goods. Snap to it and there's a shiny copper penny for you tomorrow if all is in order."

A voice came from the stall, "Bad timing...she's about to drop the second one, and a third is on the way, and it has horns already! Dammit, why can't you critters do anything the normal way?!"

Intrigued, Johannes stuck his head over the stall and, though he thought he'd seen it all, the sight of a man with both his arms shoved into the nether regions of a mutant beast wasn't one he could recall. One of its progeny was out and had attached its misshapen head to its mother's udder...he thought it was an udder?

Both cow and mother-monster turned to look at him. The beast had a huge cyclopean eye and a rack of horns that would be the envy of a herd of minotaurs. The man seemed perfectly normal, except for the task he was involved in. Seeing Johannes, he smiled, "You came to help. That's awesome! Grab that bellows full of oil and come over this way. And be careful, they're heavy."

On the ground was a large, two-handed contraption like the bellows of a smith. This one however had a tube running to it from a large barrel that simply had 'oil' scribbled on it in charcoal. Not knowing why he complied, Johannes picked them up. They were indeed heavy, full of many gallons of liquid. He was thankful his calling demanded a modicum of STR.

"Great. Now, what I need you to do is push the end of the bellows up between my arms as I spread things out a bit, and start pumping oil. If I yell, that means dodge aside. This will either work spectacularly, or not. Messy either way."

Encouraged that he was helping with some sort of experiment, Johannes did as the strange young man asked. Oil was forced in, arms pulled, and suddenly things started to move. Johannes didn't wait for the warning but leaped back over the stall. He was just in time as gallons of oil, afterbirth, and a couple more monsters were birthed. The mother took all of this in stride and kept eating.

The calf stood up to reveal it was actually just one creature, but with two heads. Both of them attached to the mother alongside their other sibling and began sucking down their first meal.

"Dammit Betty! You told me it was triplets."

Johannes asked, "How is the counting done? By the head? Or by the number of legs divided by four."

"That's a very good point. Up until now, by head would have been accurate, but they tend to have extra legs now and then. By the head it is. You were right Betty, sorry to doubt you."

"Hey, Squirmie, be a good bug and toss me that towel." The largest butterfly Johannes had ever seen flew down from the hayloft and dropped a large towel to the man, who proceeded to chuck most of his clothing to a corner, towel off and put on a fresh tunic, "Good enough for a beer. I'm thirsty. How about you? You were a big help, and I owe you one. I'm Rolly."

"I am Johannes, and yes, I would love one of your local beers. But I must arrange a place for my wagon and horse."

Rolly smiled at him, "No problem. You can bring them right into the barn and we'll put your horse in the first stall. I'll be here most of the night, and no one will touch a thing on it."

So within a few minutes Johannes found himself in a strikingly familiar tavern, enjoying a delicious dark brew, and listening to the quiet talk of the simple folk who lived here. By the taste of the beer, it seemed that someone had re-discovered the secret to Master Dinkledorfs #9 Dark Ale. It had been quite popular until his sudden demise at the paws of a jealous female manticore he had been courting in the Menagerie. This tasted nearly the same, although the years made for a blurry memory, and his palette as a student had been unrefined.

Rolly turned out to be the local shepherd, and based on his butterfly, a breeder of fantastical beasts. He had many strange and interesting ideas, (or possibly experience?), for dealing with the more dangerous ones. Johannes tried to politely inquire about how he created the cute little thing. The shepherd had turned to the bug, stroked a wing lightly, and replied that it was more a case of he and Squirmie creating each other.

If he thought he'd be lacking in stimulating conversation, he was mistaken. Rolly had introduced him to a local family. The father was a midlevel alchemist of the classic path, while his daughter was gearing for dungeons as a battle mage. They traded recipes a bit. He had some variant ingredients that could lower the cost of mana potions, while Aliester had a lovely little STR potion variant that added a huge chance for destructive potential. He didn't claim it to be his though, rather it was the happy discovery of another local who was prone to experimentation.

The final joy of the night was a long political discussion with a fine-looking young butcher. What he lacked in current knowledge of empire politics, he made up for with a solid grounding in political theory. They talked long into the night until the barmaid announced that it was closing time, and offered to show Johannes his room. The butcher and he shook hands, neither of them able to get a crushing grip on the other. The little barmaid endured their contest for a couple of minutes before declaring that little boy games were over.

He asked for the last room at the end of the hall, out of nostalgia. To his surprise, it was almost exactly as he remembered it! Bleached pine paneling was accented by cast iron fixtures. The bed was just big enough for him and looked hard as a rock. Just what his old back needed to straighten out from the day’s twists and turns. A straw pillow and coarse wool blanket completed the room perfectly. It was difficult these days to find a nice, austere room at an inn. Too many people associated the idea with "cheap". They obviously understood the needs of people like him at this little tavern with old traditions.

The barmaid paused, frowning. "I'm sorry. If..."

"Ohno, my fault entirely my dear. You shouldn't have to ask me for the room fee! I was just having a moment of remembrance from my youth. I stayed in rooms like this often. It's perfect. Please, take this. Let me know if it doesn't cover the week. While I have business in the city, I think I will be more comfortable here."

By her smile, all was good.

Reclining on the hard bed and crossing his hands over his chest, he congratulated himself on not waiting for more information. Gadobhra was open again! And obviously the locals had kept to the old traditions. His people could come home, and he'd be here to welcome them.

=*=

The life of one of The Emperor's tax collectors was often a hard one during your early years. Untold number of small villages were scattered across the land, and they all had to be visited every seven years. The budget did not allow for the costly use of teleportation controlled by the army, so this involved a lot of travel by carriage and horse - the small party accompanying.

Procurator Smythe had ridden for the better part of three days, changing horses at the local courier posts, and eating in the saddle. If he and his team didn't have the skill When doing the Emperor's work, it would most likely have killed him. As it was, he was very cranky and tired as his team arrived in yet another small village.

By his notes, someone had passed through three years ago and been offered the customary 50 copper and 6 chickens owed by a collection of houses that barely counted as a Tier 1 Village. As normal, the agent had noted the taxes paid, pocketed the cash for his own expenses, and told the village to hold a chicken dinner in the Emperor's name.

They had made a few improvements. First, one of the new guilds, or 'corporations', had moved in with contracts for providing goods to the Legion. This had attracted several new residents, and added a large number of workers to the town. Next, the town had been totally rebuilt and expanded upon. There was a large section of notes that had been removed as classified, so he was hazy on the why? and how? The final change had been the corporation finding, opening, and claiming the lost city of Gadobhra, and building a corporate headquarters there. The local managers were now Baron and Baroness of the area. It had taken his entire staff several hours to come up with the various taxes now owed, and revisions had reached him by pigeon along the way.

His team seemed tired, but wary. His two bodyguards, Sanguine and Ebony were nervous and looking about. His hound, Huck, was sniffing the air, "Something up, Huck?"

The small man with an enormous nose was sniffing around, "Strange stuff. Smells like the Temple on high holy days, but mixed with something dark and secret. I'm also picking up something really odd...I'd swear it was...nope, no conjecture. I'll pin it down though. A lot of odd people have been in this town lately, sir, and some of them might still be here."

As suspected, this wasn't going to be quick one. Smythe waved his party ahead. They would procure rooms, and get a meal. Then find this Baron, William by name, and start the process of taxation and collection. He was a new Baron, so his squeals of pain would probably be amusing at least.

A mile or two behind the Procurator's party, were several heavily-loaded wagons carrying foodstuffs and other goods ordered by the new Baron. Several of the merchants had decided to accompany their goods - both to look for new markets, and to collect the coin in person. These were large orders amounting to a significant sum of money, and new nobles were notorious for how fast they reached a point of debt they couldn't pay off. Best to get cash up front.

The merchants had no fear of thieves. They were accompanied by two soldiers from the Legion and an army accountant. New improvements had to be made to Rowan keep and traditionally, a portion of these was paid for by the local ruler whom the Legion protected. Supply Sgt. Rorke planned to make it a very large portion this time around. They had already been improving the keep. Now those plans were tripled because of Gadobhra.

=*=

William, Baron of Gadobhra, woke up sometime after mid-day.

He wasn't feeling his best. Something had died in his mouth, his head pounded, and his shoulder was sore. He was also starving and had no idea where he was. He had vague memories of dancing and shouting at the lightning, and a voice in his head telling him about how great he could be. He wondered what he'd been drinking.

Layla was sleeping in an overstuffed chair. The empty plate and mug on the small table next to her showed she'd already had breakfast. Somehow the woman had cleaned up, was dressed in new clothes, got food, and now was catching a bit of a nap. All before he made it out of bed.

He, by comparison, looked and felt like he'd been drinking for weeks, was dressed in rags, and was bruised, stinking and hungry.

"Yo! Sleeping beauty! Give me a quick report on what's going on!"

Layla stretched slowly and stood. "I thought you would never wake up. Let's get moving, you have people to talk to."

"Like this? Nope, I want a bath, new clothes, and another bath first."

Layla looked at him, and shook her head, "Let me guess, you barely looked at your skills list. You're a damned Baron now. You have in-game abilities. Use them, stupid!"

Billy looked at his list of skills. Down in the tertiaries were: Always a Good Day when You're a Baron and Emperor's New Clothes. "These two?" Immediately he felt better and was wearing a fine set of black and grey clothing with silver highlights that matched Layla's outfit. "Wow. Awesome."

"Do your homework, Billy. You have Contract Workers underneath you who are manipulating the system and gaining some power. Don't just think of it as a game! And some warnings: you feel better, but you aren't. You still need a bath and food; this is just a temporary fix. Also, the clothes are a high-level illusion. Refresh the skill every hour or it fades."

Billy looked at his diminished mana points, "Damn, I need more mana then. I should raise my INT I guess."

Layla snorted, "Not that easy, Billyboy. You need to raise all your skills. Those raise your stats as well. You've been slacking because you were just an ACME manager."

"So was I. No need? Right? Except that your little barmaid could walk into the room with just a smile and charm all the males and half the females without trying. Because she's smart. She's gaining skills and stats. She's making herself better. I should have been doing the same all along."

"So from now on, the two of us are going into training and learning to use all of these skills. And if you slack off, I'll leave you behind and take over."

Billy mulled that over, "Shit. I hate the idea, but I get the point. But don't go measuring your butt for a new throne too quickly. I'm not letting you steal the city after all the work I put into getting it."

The two of them locked eyes for a bit, smiled at each other, and walked downstairs.

=*=