One Moo'r Plow - Book 2: Chapter 3: Rewards aplenty.

The many letters of invitation and greeting were important, Ishila assured me. A solid chunk of this treasure stash was comprised of excessively fancy letters, marked with increasingly luxurious seals and even spells in several cases. With my inborn tendency to leave the best for last hard at work, I started with these. One envelope joined the next as I carefully cracked the seal, only occasionally awarded by a flash as magic dissipated.

These ones I set aside after some deliberation with Ishila. If a house or person was willing to pay extra and ensure their letters reached only my hands -for that is what such a design was- then they were either truly serious or truly wealthy. Both of which I could benefit from. Within was message after message, transcribed with different words and phrases, yet all were guided toward the same overall message.

Whether they were short and abrupt, or long and flowy, all roads led to one thing.

Me.

My presence was now known, but I was not some simple farmer anymore, much as I wished to be. Houses, names I had never heard of requested my presence, extended, or asked for the honor of meeting me. Much as my outer facade remained unchanged, my mind swam inwardly.

And after a time, even the stone of my features turned to a frown.

“You realize the mess yer in?” Ishila smiled mirthlessly.

“Yes.” Came the kurt reply. “The wealthy, the powerful have their wants, and those include me now.”

It was then that I made the decision.

“The only way to beat this game, this charade of the powerful is to not play.” I nodded.

“I had thought you smarter.” Came the voice from atop the stairs as Velton materialized. How long had he been watching us?

“Give me a reason to become embroiled in all this? These cutthroat games of power and alliances where all seek to use me as a pawn?”

“What you and I want has, unfortunately, been compromised. I wanted a quiet life for my daughter, and now some God Above has taken interest in us. If we do not adapt and play along till they grow bored, they will create their own entertainment. Look at this all as such.” The muscular elf gestured at the grown pile of summons and invitations next to me. “In all the room, those letters are of greatest value to you. Learn to play their game, and it will benefit you. The tools, the means with which to expand your farm, should you wish to do so, have been laid before you. Power and connections, resources at your beck and call, if you would seize the opportunity.”

“If I commit to this, we both know this tangled web of politics will never let me go free.” I rebuked, but his words held truth in them.

“Or you could ride out these waves of interest until they dull and grow smaller. Meet a few, assuage their concerns and use their goodwill in your favor. Let the rest assume.”

“Assume what, exactly?” I asked, curiosity grown within now. Velton was much more experienced within this particular arena than I, it seemed.

“Whatever they please.” He shrugged and eyed Ishila as she innocuously read through several letters. “These people of power have a way of overthinking and making overly-complex assumptions borne of the smallest movements. But you have been handed the opportunity, the very chance all but pressed into your hand, to become something much larger. The what and the how lie squarely upon you shoulders.”

“And if I want a simple life, forgotten by the world and in the peace of my own home?”

Silence hung thick now within the basement, and I could feel the tension that radiated off Velton.

“Then you would be a fool. Let me repeat myself, Garek. A God Above has had a hand in all these resources you have now received. It watches you now, and you are expected to do something with all this. Squander it at your own peril. The wrath and wroth of those on high is not to be trifled with.”

My eyes could see the pain hidden in his features, smell the strain in his scent. “I know this far too well.”

“Do not repeat my mistake. Even if all of these amount to futility in the end,” He gestured again towards the piles of parchment. “The worst action you could undertake is nothing.”

Much as I refused to accept this, I knew what he spoke was the truth. The System itself had informed me that there existed beings that now took interest in me, if only for their own entertainment. I would be crowned a king amongst fools if I could not adapt. And so, with a heavy heart, I promised Velton I would take these seriously. Not now, however. The list of names and places that bade me greeting or invitation blurred together, and called for more serious consideration at another time.

Now, however, came my reward.

Bags of coin were marked with messages both physical and arcane that congratulated me on such a momentous accomplishment. Thinly veiled words that were meant the procure my favor. Excited at first, I soon grew stoic to the ever-enlarged pile of riches that mounted next to me.

Ishila seemed almost..proud as she observed me go through bag after bag, a smile set upon her face. The orc leaned against the wall, her head tilted as she seemed content to let me discover what riches lay within.

The sheer plethora of coin that lay piled next to me was frankly astonishing. Every single person of import within quite a distance had decided I needed to know their name. There was a strategy to this, yes. A generous gift with their name attached would serve as an acceptable way to open the door for further communication with me for their own ends.

There were those few, however, that stood from the rest. One was a lengthy spear-sword, made of darkened material with words inscribed upon the shaft.

For they that overcome.

I turned it within my hands and gave it the proper admiration such a weapon deserved. It was a long, simple thing. Yet even to my untrained eye it seemed well-made. Aside from the words writ upon its hilt, it was a dark, dull thing. An attached note stated that it was a gift from the Slayer’s Spire.

“A collection of men and women that seek out and slay the most dangerous monsters there are to offer.” Ishila informed me once the name had been repeated aloud. “They recognize the magnitude of your accomplishment. Out of all the gifts, this is perhaps the one with the least strings attached.”

A greatshield stood propped against the wall, this one adorned with a plethora of regal symbology. A massive stag reared upon a mountain’s edge, the sun itself held aloft by its horns. While certainly striking, it was rather gaudy. More for show than an actual weapon. A brief flare of magic informed me it had been a gift from the Deepwater Collective, and there would be many more to come should I heed their call. A guild of pirate-merchants that operated along the coasts, I learned from Ishila.

Fit for the brow that laid low a God.

This was inscribed upon a crown of twisted steel that I held aloft, an artifact of arcane might that swirled beneath my fingers. It struck me then. Truly settled down upon my shoulders. The full magnitude of what I had accomplished.

I had lain down the final strike that felled a God. Ended a divine. And all knew now. I was not just someone, I was known. Desired. I stood there, crown in my hand, my eyes staring emptily at the wall as everything emerged all at once.

“Garek?” Ishila asked after a few moments. “Are you alright?’

“Possibly not.” I admitted. My thoughts were a jumble in this moment, a mess. I needed to think.

“What else is there?” I asked, suddenly not too eager to delve into the pile.

“A pair of enchanted scimtars, from the House of Duels, A Cloak of Catfoot, with nothing attached, A set of dwarven forge-hammers, Wrath-soaked Bracers from Fallen Bytaris,” She continued to list of items with names that meant little to me, her fingers tracing from object to object all the while. “And finally, a single broken horn.”

That stirred memories. Not mine, older ones. Of the Garek that inhabited this body before me.

“The tribes have deemed me a traitor.” I stated flatly, my eyebrows raised. They had come to know my feat, and chosen to send a message, if these memories proved correct.

“This horn signifies broken trust and abandonment.” I gazed upon the cracked, gnarled thing, my own arms folded. “It is a promise that there will a price exacted.”

“Is there something we should know?” The orc queried, horn held in her hand.

“Nothing too sensational.” I sighed and sat down atop chair that fit my bulk. “I chose to leave them and their warring ways behind, give up the life of combat and move far, far away. Such is my own prerogative.”

Silence stretched as Ishila looked down at the horn in her hands and then back up at me.

“They seem ta’ disagree on this matter.”

“Let them.” I shrugged. “If they take such offense to what I have wrought without them, then they may make their displeasure known to my face.”

“They will.” Velton even as he materialized once more. “You can be sure of this. Your race suffers the misfortune of being among the most thick-headed, prideful individuals I have shared company with.”

“Hence why I left.”

“I am sure that among the taurish race there are individuals who break the mold such as you. I simply have not, in my century of wandering, made their acquaintance yet.”

‘Don’t look too hard.” I grimaced. “They are fewer than you might think.”

The elf shrugged, clear indication that he had no plans to do so.

“A safe guess right now would tell me you wish to transport all of this back to your own home?”

I more than agreed with that. The sooner all this gold was safely hidden away and on my own property, the sooner my other skills might be bolstered. There was a fortune here. Enough for me to simply take and comfortably live out the rest of my days on. Yet this did not interest me, nor did I think it would even be a possibility now.

“Very well. Your lodge?’ It took me a moment to realize he had just offered teleportation. Faced with the prospect of physically carrying all this back to home and instantaneous transportation via magic, the choice was simple.

“Wait.” I held up a hand as the elf unfurled his arms. “Am I going to be charged for your services?’

A pointed stare and tired huff was all I received for a while.

“No, Garek, I will not charge you for a quick teleport. You have already given my girl so much, and provided help to me and mine. This one thing I will do for free.”

An arcane circle was writ into the ground my Veton’s magics, and reality physically shifted. Gone was the underground basement from one instant to the next. Now I stood before a familiar sight. My own lodge.

“Out of curiosity.” I cautiously asked as my head moved between the small mountain of loot and the confines of my house. “Would it be possible for the freebie to get extended to one more task.”

It could be indeed, I found some time later. With my cellar well and truly slathered in wards, I began the long and arduous task of transporting my many riches inside and down the stairs.A task that promised to take several hours as I carefully stacked and sorted eevrything.

Suffering from success indeed.