Chapter 13: Isekai Life & First Recruit

I was awoken in the morning by the sound of prayer and the scent of incense. I groaned- while it was marginally better than a random patch of ground, the bench was hardly a comfortable place to sleep, and my back ached fiercely. For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness. Katriana would have never let me sleep in these kinds of conditions, but she was miles away. For literally the first time in my new life.

I shook my head and levered myself up from the bench. I couldn’t bear to risk Katriana or Ashryn or our unborn children ... but I could at least wish that we were adventuring in a big ol’ city again, where I could visit them at any time while they held the fort at our base of operations.

Rising, I took in what was actually happening in the Shire-reeve’s office. An absolutely ancient old man- a white-haired wizen man with brittle white hair that matched his white robes- was chanting over Voss, who was lying down on the desk in the common area. Yua sat cross-legged beside the door, meditating or something with her sword close to hand. Calliope stood near Voss, with our map rolled up and in hand.

Trying in vain to stretch the kinks out of my back, I headed over to Calliope. Quietly, so I wouldn’t interrupt the prayers, I motioned at the old man and asked, “Our healer, I presume?”

Calliope gave a short nod. “He’s already gone over Yua, just waiting for him to finish with Voss.”

I looked back at the old man. He was obviously in no shape to be adventuring. I could see a distinct tremor in his hands, and one of his eyes was clouded by a large cataract.

I grimaced. We’re going to need to find another healer for the team. “I was hoping to recruit him, but...”

Calliope frowned. “We may need to do without,” she replied, “Unless you can conjure a priest with healing powers out of nowhere.”

I had a dark chuckle. “You know I’m a transmuter, not a conjurer.”

That gave her a small smile.

Voss sat up on his desk, swinging his legs around as the old man took a step back. With a grin, he hopped down lightly, experimentally kicking his leg. “Good as new,” he announced to nobody in particular, then turned to me. “I’m all ready for the goblin hunt. Bring them on!”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I told him, “But we have a few things to do before heading out, so you’ll have a few hours, at least, to enjoy your good health.”

“Sure, take as long as you need,” he replied, “I’m just feeling energetic. I could swear that last night was the first time in a long time that I got some real rest.”

Considering what happened the one night we were relatively safe, he wasn’t lying.

“Um, excuse, er, father?” I said, approaching the priest, as he was preparing to leave, “We are looking to have a cleric join our party when we go hunting for goblins. Would you happen to have any kind of acolyte or assistant that can use magic?”

“Oh, you are, are you?” He blinked at me sleepily, “Too bad my own adventuring days are behind me ... but, no, lad, a provincial priest like myself has no students.”

Shit. I turned to Calliope and Voss. “Well, perhaps if we sally out, we can just get healed when we come back in? It means we can’t really camp in the field, though.”

Calliope had a thoughtful expression. “I suppose it would work to begin with. We could always send a rider back...”

The little old man loudly cleared his throat, drawing our attention.

“I did not say I was the only cleric in town,” he said.

That was how Yua and I found ourselves standing outside a filthy dockhouse in the north end of Rhymer’s Cross.

After some discussion, Voss and Calliope agreed to stay behind to monitor the trade of our iron rations with the local militia, which we were still expecting. So it was left to Yua and I to go actually make the pitch to the town’s other cleric.

It was not a shock, when two and two were put together, that the old man cleric would know of this guy and Estrid would not. Suleyar, the last child of the All-Father by Lathlys, the celestial goddess. By the time of his birth, the marriage between Lathlys and the All-Father had long since gone cold. Neglected by his father, and often overlooked by his mother, Suleyar was quiet and kept to himself, choosing to gather secrets and listen rather than speak. Thus, Suleyar became the God of Secrets.

It didn’t seem that it was a complete tale- the old man seemed vague, especially compared to Ashryn’s more lively tales- but to Estrid, the priest of Suleyar in town would just seem to be an drunk and occasional thief. The old man was made aware of his colleague after investigating reports of healing being done to the townsfolk, worrying that a charlatan was taking advantage of people’s suffering. Instead, he found a legitimate cleric of uncertain morality who merely acted like a charlatan.

I approached the door, which seemed to be fashioned out of driftwood and baling wire, and knocked, loudly.

Then, after no answer came, I knocked again, even louder. When there was no other answer, Yua impatiently stepped forward and pushed the door open.

The interior of the dockhouse was filled with with the reek of malt and the husks of rotting boats. Nobody had seriously used this place for some time, which made it an ideal hideout for someone without a lot of money, I suppose.

There were signs of habitation, however. A long, low table- no more than a foot off the ground- held a crude glass still. Bags, casks, and a leather backpack sat in the corner, and at the mouth of where the dockhouse let out into the river, a short, pudgy gnome stood pissing into the river.

The gnome gave a heavy sigh without turning around. “You know, if someone doesn’t answer the door when they’re home, it’s usually because they don’t want to be disturbed,” he said, not turning around.

Yua glanced back at me, hand on the hilt of her greatsword. “Not necessary,” I told her in her own language, before stepping forward. “Well, our time is short, so I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” I replied, “Are you Brother Raszil?”