Chapter 63

Quest Path Rewards Around The World

Hawkin.

“That makes number one hundred,” I said after donating another beer in exchange for a Planes Cutter shard. Though the first month of spring had come by, it was still frigid in the mornings, only barely warmer during the day. I couldn't believe an entire month had gone by already.

It was a bit strange to simply cut into a plane where summer was vibrant and full of life. Where the leaves were thick and green. Where insects flew from the grass like popcorn from an open pot. The butterflies were floating collections of patchworks, whose patterns seemed to blink on and off as they floated by.

It was stranger still to return to my part of the world where the leaves were only just starting to stretch from their sprouts. The wind was warming up. I would usually be seeing a lot more animals about, but they gave Thrush a mile wide berth.

The difference in smells from summer fields to my forest was exciting. It put into perspective what this place really meant to me. Since I was ahead of schedule for this week's brewing, I went on a long walk, foraging as I went. I revisited the small field where dandelions grew and I harvested at least a bushel of dandelion greens. The woodland strawberries were just starting to fruit. They were white and a few days from growing into their dark red skins.

When I’d gone as far into my woods as I would in one day, I paused for a little break and cut into the ethereal plane. I leveled up the skills that I could and even took a brief stroll amid the goldenrods that were ripe with pollen. Halos of bees hung about. Metallic sheening wasps stood unmoving upon the flowers. Honeybees danced around. Bumblebees were manically out of control.

I even napped a bit while the grasshoppers explored my clothing. Little black field-spiders climbed atop me. Small green insects fell upon me and lost their way in the world.

I let my mind wander, thinking of all those beers I donated to Dellia. I couldn’t help but wonder where they were. Who had them? All that fun nonsense was in my head right up until I fell into a deep sleep.

∞

Dellia Lucerne

Endless. All things were endless. What has always been, always will be. My path to greatness seemed an endless road itself. Yet here I was, closer than ever. Perhaps next to other gods, I was more efficient. I was frugal with my efforts. Exacting with my purpose. Deliberate in my strategy to expand my influence.

Dear, dear adventurers. I love you all. The more you reward me, the more I shall reward you in turn.

Thousands of motes of light transmuted in my ethereal plane. Each mote became an item. Weapons. Metals. Food. Crafts. Books. Coin. Horror. Ale.

Ale… I should check in on a few people.

In mere moments, I surveyed those whose quest paths I was assigned to. I felt them in the beyond. The world of humans and monsters. I felt the distance from each one. I sensed their feelings. I saw their laughter and I heard their thoughts. I even felt the presence of one lonely adventurer on an ethereal plane.

That can only be one person. Hawkin. Yet he is asleep where I suggested he level his skills. He dreams of his ales. He’s curious where they are in the world.

My curiosity wasn’t oftened piqued, but Hawkin was a different case. Of all the adventurers I was assigned to, Hawkin had the most potential to broaden my influence. Thus, I took more interest in him and the activities involving him than I have for anyone else. Ever.

Let’s see where your new ales have been going, shall we?

I cut into the world of humans and monsters to the alpines of the west. Barrick the blacksmith had just finished smithing the last in a row of spearheads.

His quest reward was a loot chest that was filled with bronze ranked items from among the transmuted motes in my realm. When Barrick finally sat to wash the sweat from his soot stained skin, and to replenish his body with water and air, I observed him as though I were a transparent ghost.

“Eugh! Finally,” Barrick said with a voice that sounded as though it came from an old chimney.

“Master,” his young apprentice said. “Master, you've finished!”

“Come here, Elin. Let’s have a look at what I’ve earned.”

“Another loot chest. That’s twenty just this week!”

“Aye, boy. You do the honors and open it up.”

The boy was overzealous and he ran across the forge. He leapt over the anvil, and ripped the loot chest from Barrick’s hands.

Silly boy, I thought.

For the next twenty minutes, Elin sat with his hands in his lap, head bowed, nodding to the lecture Barrick laid into him of running through the forge. At the end of it, Barrick reaffirmed the lesson with the boy.

“One more time,” Barrick said.

“Safety first,” squeaked Elin.

“Alright. Now open the loot chest.”

In it were ores, quenching oils, burn ointments, mana potions, a shard of a particular hammer, and a waterskin.

“What’s this?” Barrick said, holding the waterskin aloft.

“It’s water, master,” Elin said.

“No, my dear boy. Let’s practice your reading.”

Barrick was patient with Elin and walked the boy through the letters branded upon the waterskin.

“Oatmale,” Elin said.

“Oatmeal,” Barrick gently corrected.

Elin nodded and straightened himself. “Oatmeal. Stout.”

“Very good, Elin. Now the name.”

“Howkin.”

“Almost.”

“Hawkin.”

“Very good.”

“Thank you master. Thank you for everything.”

Elin was downcast, and I could see in Barrick’s eyes that the blacksmith felt bad having lectured the boy so sternly. Barrick felt uneasy about being harsh. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

“How about we stop for the day and enjoy this ale,” Barrick offered.

Of course, I realized. Elin is an orphaned boy you took in under the guise of an apprentice. You actually wanted to help the lad and an apprenticeship helped the boy keep his dignity. Your plan is to teach him how to become a blacksmith so that he may put his fate into his own hands. Thus, Elin is going to be elated to bond with you.

Elin was ecstatic. He held his excitement in check, but eagerly drank from the waterskin after Barrick took a sip himself.

“Whew,” Elin said after his very first taste of beer. “It’s…”

“Not very good?” Barrick said.

“...I didn’t want to be mean,” Elin said.

“It’s something you’d find at the Three Peak inn in town,” Barrick said. “It’s not bad.”

“Rather dark,” Elin said, “and bitter.”

Barrick tousled Elin’s curly hair. “We should still thank Dellia for the reward,” he said.

You're welcome. Until next time, I thought and cut through the world and through planes until arriving in Milbrookedale. A flat city where earthquakes have put enough fear in the hearts of citizens that no building was higher than two levels.

At the corner of a small intersection by a monastery, two women met. Selena the seamstress delivered a less than elegant wedding gown to a farm raised woman. Their joy was beyond the size of their smiles.

“Oh it was a quest?” The woman said. “You were given the quest before or after I asked you to make this?”

“The moment you asked,” Selena said.

“The gods guide our quest paths.”

“They guide our quest paths,” Selena affirmed.

The women chatted about the wedding, the stress of it all, and the haste in which they should return to their affairs. The gown was paid for, and Selena returned to her dim apartment to open a loot box. Among the items was a waterskin.

“Hawkin,” Selena read aloud. “Hoppy.”

I know you, Selena. You’re not much for beer.

“Quite an odd item to receive,” Selena said to herself. “It does happen though. Not the first time, won’t be the last.”

However, you are crafty when it comes to making ten copper.

“I should head to Badger Bottom’s inn and see if Wilbur would buy this from me. After all, why not try? Rent is due soon.”

I cut through the world and through planes once again, arriving on a fisherman’s boat. It was a long slender craft that his father’s grandfather had made. A beautiful long boat that withstood the jutting boulders hidden in low tide.

The fisherman’s best friend was with him. After catching a long monster of a fish whose tongue was riddled with shark’s teeth—and only the tongue—the fisherman completed a quest. After managing the fish and the rest of his gear, he inspected the loot chest and found a waterskin among the contents.

“Oh ho ho!” The fisherman said.

“That better be liquor,” his best friend said.

After the cork was popped off, the fisherman dramatically plunked his nose to the neck and inhaled for all he was worth. His eyes inflated wide.

“Oh ho ho!” The fisherman shouted once more. “Beer! Hoppy, hoppy, beer! Come drink this with me! Get your butt over here!”

“Dellia’s not handing out beers as rewards for loot chests, is she?”

“You think I’m lying to you? Take a sip!”

The best friend snagged the waterskin and took a drink.

“Oh. That’s not bad at all. Not at all. A bit more hoppy than anything I’ve had before. I kind of like it!”

You boys enjoy it. Farewell my dear fisherman. Until next time.

I cut through the world, through planes, and returned to my endless home. A home that has always been and always will be. Where gods, and all but one thing cannot reach me.

Congratulations Hawkin. Your ales have officially entered the world of humans.