Magic Murder Cube Marine

Over the next hour, Miller got caught up on Francis’ recent exploits and a plan was hashed out. A hundred gold would be enough seed money to get Graybeard Solutions up and running. But not enough for Francis to hunt him down like a dog if things went sideways.

Miller decided to head out immediately, before anyone got the bright idea to see what he was up to. Once he got situated he would start recruiting and looking for work. Anything interesting that came up would be passed along to Francis via Guild Secure Messaging. (Better known as GSM.)

It was interesting to Francis how the Adventure Guild had managed to establish a monopoly on so many important services. They had locations in every major city with bank kiosks where people could draw or deposit funds. They did loans and horse trading. Now he was finding out they were handling communications too.

Technically they were all separate companies. But non-AG affiliated banks or messenger services were rare. They even handled the sale of magical objects and alchemical components. It was like Western Union, eBay and Blackwater (or whatever they were calling themselves this week) had a baby.

He had zero doubts they would also have their finger in the illegitimate side of things as well. It was the only thing that made sense. Banks back home did it all the time.

It wasn't surprising to him that he didn't get an alert. Miller didn't seem to have much use for religion. Which brought Francis back to the original existential crisis he had been trying to avoid.

A few days ago he had been a grunt. Now he was a god. It felt unnatural, like when someone referred to him as an officer. Yes, he was an NCO. But he was still a grunt. (And he would punch anyone in the face who said otherwise.)

He was also more or less in charge, which definitely felt wrong. Sure, he tended to ignore the orders he felt were stupid. But at least then someone else was giving the orders he ignored.

The Marine took a seat on one of the low stone walls. It would be dark soon and the celebrations had died down. He looked at the castle on the hill above town. Willow had insisted they stay there instead of the inn.

He sent Chuck a mental message that he needed a ride back. That situation was a whole other can of worms. Chuck owned himself now and had the paperwork to prove it. But that was tenuous at best. Outsiders wouldn't honor it. Hell, most humans didn't consider orks or beastfolk to be people either.

Then there was the question of what to do about the other uplifted creatures. They couldn't buy them all. Whoever was uplifting them would create more to meet demand and make the situation worse.

Chuck was very adamantly against uplifting. He didn't want to go back. But he also wouldn't wish it on anyone. Knowing that his mind could be taken away couldn't be good for Chuck’s mental health.

That made Francis wonder about his own situation. System had increased his intelligence and given him a new language to think in. Grunt had one hundred words for kill and none for salad. But Vahnissian Common could express all kinds of concepts.

Maybe that was why Francis felt like his thoughts were becoming too big for his head. Sure, he was smarter and more powerful now. But was he happier? The sound of hooves on cobblestones banished the gloom and put a smile on his face.

“Hey, Francis. Need a ride?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” Francis hadn't gotten a chance to watch the sunset yet. He wondered if it would be like the ones he remembered from home.

Chuck clopped over to share the view. Red and orange rolled across the western sky. “Wow.”

“Looks different when you're free, doesn't it?” Francis asked.

“Oh, yeah. I'd say it does.” Chuck nudged Francis playfully with his head. “What are you doing out here, all alone?”

“Just thinking.” Francis rubbed behind Chuck’s ears. Somehow he felt much better. It was like a dark cloud had lifted.

“Well, be careful. Wandering off alone after a big bounty is dangerous. The brain weasels will swoop in and get you.”

Francis frowned. “Is that a joke? Or do they really exist?”

“Oh, I wish it was a joke. Scaly little bastards can smell triumph a kilometer away. Then they wait until you're alone and gang up on you. That's why you need friends around to squish any that show up.”

He stomped his hoof for emphasis. "You can't see them when they're on you. My cousin won a race, went off to take a nap, and never woke up.”

Francis wasn't sure if he believed Chuck’s theory about the brain weasels. But he decided to put it squarely in the “possible” category.

“Come on, let's go see what Willow is up to.” Francis patted his friend on the shoulder and climbed into the saddle. This new world and his place in it would take some getting used to. But at least he didn't have to figure it out alone.