The Fool's Freedom

Alan sat and drank his tea in silence while Old Greyheart watched his every move. The seemingly always hot liquid didn’t have the same effect as the first sip, but it still calmed him down significantly and brought him closer to the state of mindfulness, where the world and its details were all his.

“You don’t seem to have much of a reaction to what I said. You can’t die of old age now,” Old Greyheart suddenly spoke. He sounded almost… curious.

For once you don’t know everything, eh?

Alan smiled. “What good is that? I certainly won’t hole up here and live my life selling my skills. I do have a few that might be quite great for that but… no, that’s not me. I’ll probably die long before I get to experience the joys eternity has to offer, with my luck. I find myself in shit situations quite often.”

Old Greyheart grunted, “Joys? For a time, perhaps. Eternity can grow dull very quickly if you don’t pick a path that satisfies you. And even that will get slowly eroded by the trickle of time. The greatest remedy, I’ve found, is learning to be fine with boredom. After a lifetime of excitement, you’ll be surprised how hard that is.” He waved his hand and splashed the remains of his tea in the fireplace Alan hadn’t noticed was burning. Maybe it hadn’t been? “What do I know? You’re far from such a fate, even if it comes to that. And it probably won’t. BUT!”

The old man leaned forward again, baring his teeth and for another moment Alan felt he was facing something more terrible than the giant dragon. “Don’t for a second live expecting to die and fail. You carry what you’re given for a reason, and that means something. From what my old eyes can see… Your life is not only your own now, boy. Responsibility is heavy, but it is also a source of strength! Cherish that!”

Alan remained silent. Old Greyheart’s words echoed in his ears and even the shadows around seemed to agree. Was it responsibility? Wasn’t it just a skill, a trait that expressed itself weirdly? No, Alan knew very well it was not that. Skills, traits, and even titles seemed to be connected to more than what the System gave. Pieces of puzzles or doors to long winding paths that could go many ways.

Who was he to deserve this responsibility then? It was indeed giving him strength, but what was the point of it all? He was going with the flow, jumping from a fight to a fight and making use of the opportunities before him. Or not. He had made too many mistakes to count.

Maybe picking another class would’ve led to better things, or maybe he’d be lying somewhere, rotting and forgotten.

“No point in dwelling on my words, boy. I’m an old fool and this is just me using the opportunity to talk with a kindred soul. Millenia might separate our experiences but there is always common ground to be found. Almost always.”

“I like you too, old man,” Alan said and mimicked him, throwing the last drops of tea into the fire.

“Who said anything about liking you, boy? You smell of dragons and spirits and you’re stinking up my home!”

“It was stinky to begin with, you old fart, don’t blame it on me!”

“Mouthy brat!”

Time moved on and no one seemed to interrupt them. Whether it was Old Greyheart’s will or simple chance Alan found himself enjoying his stay more than ever. There were no skills, no dealing with weird spirits, no fighting nor killing.

It was the first time in a while Alan was truly calm. There was no death looming over him, and no weakness permeating his muscles. There was also no urgent need to think about how many things he wanted to improve. He had some good ideas already but all could wait for when he finally stepped on tier two.

For some reason, he was not that eager anymore. He would do it without a doubt, but staying in the current moment was a priority.

Too many things awaited outside the door of Old Greyheart’s weird hut. Dragons, perhaps. Dead beings to talk to. His oath. The Sanctuary and Ashlyn, whom he missed dearly, but not as much as he imagined he would’ve.

I feel detached. Is that the word? Perhaps that’s natural. Change often leads to that.

For another moment, all was well. Then there was a lull, a strange crack, then one of the Bazaar’s apparitions appeared before Alan and Old Greyheart.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Undying Greyheart, Mr. Morgan,” the being spoke.

“It seems you’re making it a habit every time the boy visits.” Old Greyheart snorted.

“It seems so,” the apparition replied, then seemingly turned to Alan. It was hard to tell. “Mr. Morgan, there is someone… looking for you.”

“For me? Who?” Alan was surprised. Was it Isind? Had the skill teacher grown impatient?

“I’m afraid… it’s a spirit. The Bazaar doesn’t welcome the uninvited and neither does it welcome young spirits, so the ‘guest’ has been detained. It is our understanding that he used a special connection to you to reach this place and knock on our doors. A most surprising thing, since only a few can find their way here without invitation.”

What the fuck? Who could… my book! That cheating fat bastard!

Alan turned to Old Greyheart, “Would you like to make things difficult for an annoying spirit?” he asked.

The old man seemed to grow younger by at least a few centuries as he rose from his chair and straightened his back. “Boy, no one has brought me such a present before. Know that I, Greyheart, owe you a favor.”

“Stop posturing and let’s go.”

The apparition nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

There was no space twisting, no reaction from [First Pathfinder], and no sense of nausea. It just happened.

Alan was unsure if it was due to Old Greyheart’s hand on his shoulder or because the Bazaar operated on a set of rules quite different from the rest of the universe. That would be quite crazy to imagine, but there were crazier things out there.

They appeared in a large underground hall. A single strangely shaped crystal sat in the middle like an open flower with four petals. It was a beautiful thing and Alan wondered briefly if it was natural or if someone had carved it.

Above it, grumpier than ever, and seemingly more scared than ever, sat none other than Odu of the Wavy Mists. Alan smiled. Then, as if someone had tickled him, laughed out in glee.

There was no trace remaining of the spirit's haughty presence or arrogance. He looked just like a regular blue fat man with too small of a lower half, hanging suspended by forces few could understand.

“Hello, Odu,” Alan called out.

The spirit’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. “Uh, human,” his voice came thin and weak, but the spirit quickly corrected that. “I mean, Alan! Tell it to release me, please. I didn’t know!”

“I’m afraid I hold no power here.” ‘It’? What was it? The Bazaar itself?

Odu grimaced and looked around. He seemed almost terrified. No, positively terrified. What sort of power is this, to trap the seemingly almighty spirit and put such fear in him?

“I’ll be damned. If it isn’t a fat one,” Old Greyheard murmured mostly to himself. He went closer to the spirit and his eyes roamed over Odu’s blue flesh as if he was looking at a meal.

“Who are you?” Odu asked, attempting to sound menacing. “Please, human. Are you responsible? I’m a great spirit and I can be of service to you.”

Is he… bargaining for his freedom? I expected threats but this…

“I trusted a spirit like you once, you know.” Old Greyheart said. “Back in my youth when opportunities were abound and when rivers of blood were all I wanted to see beneath my feet. A grand spirit it was, a willow of splendor and bark that could make the green oceans of the Spirit World dark from jealousy. It offered to take a choice from me. I didn’t want it, so naturally I agreed. However, I’ve had some issues with what was given as payment to me.” His voice became low, threatening.

Alan’s good mood was fleeing. Oh, no. I’ve already given two of mine. But I didn’t want to lock into being a [Warlock], even if specialized. And the Bone Lord… Yeah, I won’t regret that. I hope Enid’s not like Odu.

“So,” Old Greyheart continued, “tell me spirit, do you perhaps know one of such a description?”

Was Odu growing paler or was the light playing games with his blueish skin? It was hard to tell, and Alan almost stepped up. However, he thought against it.

“He’s here to return a book to me. Something he gave me in return for a choice. Another spirit made him remove the trap inside of it and fix whatever was wrong.”

Old Greyheart’s eyes grew sharper, “Oh? More than one spirit is involved? Then, perhaps you do know what I’m talking about.”

Odu remained silent, before turning his pleading face to Alan. “Listen, Alan, it was my bad alright? I’ve made it much better, and I promise there are no hidden traps or tricks in it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Old Greyheart smiled. Alan felt a strange discomfort wash over him.

“How—a spirit eye! You have a spirit eye!” Odu suddenly screamed as if he was about to lose his life.

“That I do,” Old Greyheart nodded, “I have a lot more than that too. Now give the boy his book, and then we’ll continue with the answer to my question.”

There was a moment of very tense silence, and Alan was sure the apparition next to him would sigh or something. Instead, it remained still, as if witnessing the unfolding situation was enough.

Alan felt something shift inside of him as if something that had been missing without his knowledge once again returned to its rightful place.

Tome of Spirit Skills (Unique)

An item made long ago by a madman, who deemed it defective and threw it away in a strange sea. It found its way to the enigmatic spirit tinker Odu of the Wavy Mists. The Tome has been remade by the one who found it to better suit the human it was given to.

The Tome can store the skills of both spirits and non-spirits.

The number of pages taken by a single skill depends on its complexity and strength.

To store a skill, cast it on one of the free pages.

Current skills held: 2

Free pages: 0/40

Current casts of Hateful Mist Cut (11) left: 3

Current casts of Establish Spirit Domain (29) left: ~

Feed skill crystals to the Tome to make it grow.

You can draw mana from the tome to supplement your own.

Alan carefully examined the description before him. Hateful Sea Cut has become Hateful Mist Cut… I told him I wanted the element gone, but instead, it’s replaced. No matter, where there are mists there are shadows and eventually I’ll make it my own one way or another.

The second skill was the one that stumped him. [Establish Spirit Domain] didn’t sound that powerful or like an attack skill at all. However, it took whole 29 pages and the space for casts was blank. The tome used to have 30 pages before.

An (Epic) skill had taken less space than [Hateful Sea Cut]… The implication was insane.

To use it as a battery was another great effect that hadn’t been present before. The spirit had gone above and beyond.

Odu had certainly kept his word, but Alan was still skeptical. He summoned the Tome and a dark book bound my dark-blue leather-like material and encrusted with light-swallowing gems appeared in his hands. It was the same size, but its look had changed as well.

“I made it look better too,” the spirit spoke.

Old Greyheart took a long look at the book in Alan’s hands and furrowed his brows. “I can’t see what it holds, but I can sense that it is true to itself. There are no tricks to obscure the System description. You can trust what you read.”

Alan nodded. He was about to ask Odu what the second skill did, as it didn’t sound like anything he had seen before. Would it make him a place to stay…? That was an insane thought, but what else could it be? He gave up though. He couldn’t reveal his secrets just like that, even if it was to Old Greyheart or the Bazaar itself.

I’ll figure it out later.

“You kept your word.”

“Yes, yes! Now release me, human! I need to leave this...this… this wretched place!”

The apparition shifted.

“Answer the old bastard and you may go,” Alan said with a smile. Payback’s a bitch.

“Cheating immortals is common practice. I haven’t been taught, as it came naturally to me! I’ve excelled since I was a wee spirit.” Odu said spitting the words two at a time. “I don’t know who’s the one who’s cheated you, old monster, but it wasn’t me.”

“Hmm,” Old Greyheard stroked his chin. “Truth.”

His hand reached and suddenly his finger seemed to cross space and time and poke Odu in his belly. The spirit screamed and Old Greyheart laughed. He did it a few more times until he finally stopped.

“I’ve had enough fun. His crime is being a fool and coming here.”

“And cheating me in the first place,” Alan added. “Can you let him go?” he asked the apparition.

“This small spirit has been sufficiently warned. He will not make the same mistake twice,” the apparition said. “And we will know if he speaks to any of his kin of us.”

Was that… a threat?

Odu nodded his head vigorously at that. “I didn’t know!” he yelled just before he popped out of existence.

Alan sighed. The universe was full of wonder.