The fate of man has always seemed a random thing, constantly associated with dice or cards. It might partially be due to the innate association with risk and reward when it comes to gambling. Mostly it is because the other random methods of choice aren't as poetic. The gods gambling one's fate with a roll of the dice is more poetic than the gods playing a game of spin the bottle. With fewer implications as well.
Even so, Kami was having a good time. What a gamble he'd taken! A boy that had never truly lived, now thriving and doing his best to die for his new home.
"What do you say, Kami-sama?" Larethos, the god of the road, said, "My odds are on your system triggering again to save his life. Practically cheating, that is."
"It can only interfere with his fate three times," Kami said, "It's not infinite 'get out of purgatory free' cards."
"It's three per year," Larethos said, "So if he lives as long as that other guy, he could have quite a few second chances."
Kami opened his mouth, then closed it.
After a few moments of shifting, Kami said, "I probably should change that. Nothing wrong with it. It's a perfectly good ability. I just need to make it so the second chances don't stack on each other. Three a year, maximum. I'll push that when he updates again."
Larethos snorted and said, "You're coping. You just can't help yourself from overpowering your experiments."
"Look at him," Kami said, "Does he look overpowered?"
Larethos paused and looked at the still image of Jasson turning to look at the monster which had turned Dockson to stone.
The god of the road said, "He looks like he's about to be overpowered himself. So no, it's not too easy for him. Yet. I've seen your work before. Anyway, are you taking my odds or not?"
"I'll take them," Kami said, "Now hit play."
****
Jasson unfroze and nearly glanced down the tunnel, but closed his eyes just in time. Dockson had looked. Jasson didn't need another hint.
Jasson thought, Oh, @#$&.
What did this? Jasson thought, Medusa? No, it's big. Much bigger.
Jasson fumbled his way to the side tunnel, slipping deeper inside before opening his eyes. The sides of this tunnel were dry, and Jasson looked deeper with his flashlight. There was a door on the other end. Jasson ignored the sound of slithering. The sound of a statue falling over. The sound of stone breaking.
That crash sounded small, Jasson thought. Probably just a sewer brick.
Jasson gripped the door handle and jerked his hand away, then collapsed screaming. It burned! Jasson blew frantically on his hand, where his charred flesh revealed the design of a house. The initials HM formed a logo across his lower palm.
Jasson fumbled in his pocket and brought out his healing crystal.
"Medkit!" Jasson said, then relaxed as the pain vanished with a puff of red light. Jasson unslung his backpack and stood, looking for another way-
Jasson screamed, "AAAH!"
What felt like a wet pool noodle dragged against his side. His skin burned as his flesh visually rotted on contact. Turning black and bubbling as his clothes smoked and turned black, crumbling as if burnt.
"Medkit!" Jasson coughed up blood, then turned. What had been the exit was now two rows of razor sharp spears. Snake's teeth, dripping with sizzling liquid that pooled in dissolving stone. A flickering tongue twenty feet long retracted, savoring the flavor it had liquified of Jasson's flesh. Jasson backed against the door, then flinched away from the doorknob.
"Basilisk." Jasson breathed, feeling woozy.
The venom seemed to be in the air, and Jasson could feel his lungs start to burn.
"Medkit!"
The monster's mouth moved away from the opening and Jasson shut his eyes tight. The eye should have glowed red with malice, but it settled for a malevolent glint. It eyed Jasson, weighing the flavor on its tongue against the work to lick the tasty morsel to death. Like eyeing the yakult at the bottom of the bottle.
Jasson's eyes snapped open as the tongue dragged across him.
"AAAAH-" Jasson started coughing, blood spewing onto the tongue and tunnel. He could almost feel the basilisk smile.
"Medkit!" Jasson rasped.
Jasson sucked in a gasp of air, feeling it set his lungs on fire, and said, "Medkit!"
Jasson slumped to the side, his phone falling from numbing fingers. He couldn't die like this. But what could he do?
Jasson reached for his bag. The monster flicked its tongue out again, curling around Jasson's outstretched wrist and taking his dissolving hand out with it.
"Medkit." Jasson said, "Medkit. Medkit. Med-"
Jasson couldn't breathe anymore. The world swayed and darkened, the magical light above dimming. He pulled out the jar that Grog had given him and raised it up as high as he could. Passing out did the rest.
****
Nobles don't shriek when a dragon descends upon them. They don't scurry for a safe place or collapse in tears as the canopy above them goes up in flames. And they most definitely do not lighten the theoretical load to hasten what is most certainly not a panicked escape.
And this is true. Specifically for about a dozen nobles such as Clara, Petra, Duchess Primrose, and several others. As for everyone else? They paid quite a lot of money to be considered one of that dozen. It's amazing how many people can fit in a dozen.
Amid all the chaos, Clara and Petra stood still. Unarmed in a finery that offered negative points in flame retardant capacity. Clara rubbed her exposed arms and eyed the dragon above.
Petra said, "Tell me you wore your shorts under that skirt."
Clara raised an eyebrow and said, "I wasn't planning on showing anyone, but yes."
"Perfect," Petra reached inside her dress and took out her heirloom Air Crystal and said, "It's too bad that I don't have a decent earth crystal anymore. Not that I would have brought it. At least I can excuse an air crystal as a 'transportation aid'."
Clara sighed and raised her fists. Sometimes she really wished that she could fit her weapons up her sleeves like her sister. Or more specifically, her bra*.
*(Neither dress had sleeves).
The canopy above rained burning logs and the Duchess raised her hand, stalking into the middle of the dance floor. The wood floated to the sides, piling on the grass in a burning lump.
"My esteemed guests," The Duchess said quietly, yet every blade of grass reverberated with her voice, "Please make a calm exit out of the doors. We will be taking shelter in the lower levels."
As one, everyone moved. It wasn't a willing thing, the grass just picked people up and ferried them to several doors. It even reorganized the bottle neck around the main entrance. Clara recentered her balance as she was moved and caught Petra from falling. Clara's hackles raised. This Duchess was removing her from battle?!
"Hold on," Clara said, "I'm going to fight!"
"It is our honor to protect you," The Duchess said as the dragon circled back, "Especially such distinguished guests as yourselves. Please, allow us to handle this."
The Duchess flicked her hand without looking and a forest of trees exploded from one of the towers and intercepted the dragon moments before it could divebomb the courtyard. The trees twisted together into the rough shape of a hand, holding the dragon so it pointed away from the court yard. The diverted gout of fire streamed above and out towards the city. The slightest trace of a frown turned the Duchess's face as the fire splattered and burst through an invisible wall in the air.
"Fire and wood do not mix," The Duchess said, "But this beast does not exude fire. I can hold one of this strength in place for hours. It's practically freshly hatched. Please do not worry yourself and make your way to my daughter's room. I will have refreshments sent to you in-"
The sound of shattering wood shot through the night as the hand of trees exploded. In its fingerless palm snarled a raging beast, flame dripping as drool from it's fanged mouth. The Duchess did not turn to look, she merely sighed.
"Oh my," The Duchess said, "It appears to be getting bigger by the second. I may be in your debt by the end of the evening. A pity."
****
Harriett hid. She could hide anywhere by merely removing her presence from a room without actually leaving it. But listening in on dangerous people requires a bit more certainty. For one's own sake if only that.
So Harriett was curled up inside of the pot of a plant, listening with sweaty palms. The four men had settled, made small talk, and the barrier was set up around them. The Isolator's Sphere.
Then, after more small talk, the weighing conversation rolled from their lips.
"I am glad that the Shadow found its own way up," one man said, "It puts me off my wine."
Shadow? Harriett thought, Is there another infiltrator here?
"Horrid thing," a second man said, "And I'm not sure if the Shadow would have been able to sneak in with us. That was a most thorough search. You'd think that they'd trust us."
The group laughed and the second man continued, "The foolish Duchess. The downside of having a secret path for your agents to use is that someone might follow them in."
Harriett frowned. Her mother didn't have anyone clumsy enough to be followed. Harriett herself had ensured that there was no one behind her with multiple tricks. What could they be talking about?
"When do you think the signal will be?" a third man said, "I know it was supposed to be in the next couple of days of our stay, but with the timeframe moved up…"
There was silence before a fourth man said, "They will let us know. We move when the body of the first son of the Peckshire family is found."
Harriet's brain froze, then melted in the rising heat of emotion. The thawing chill ran down her spine and trickled into every corner of her body. Her little brother? What?! They wouldn't dare!
Harriett trembled and shrunk deeper into her hiding place, the world crowded in around her and pressed from all sides. What did she do? She couldn't wait here but…to reveal herself risked war. Everyone knew that politicians spied on each other, but it was common courtesy to not make it obvious. Add to that what she'd have to do to the Isolator woman in the corner…
Maybe she could get away with merely maiming them. That wouldn't be cause for war, right? Not with her identity hidden. Then once she'd done that-
"It's just a pity," The fourth man continued, "That the first daughter was not here. What was her name? Catalina or something. We even got that fool of a boy to come here as part of the sacrifice. But she never showed up for the date."
Harriett clutched at her purse, instinctively reaching for one of her swords within. She was the target? Along with that blind date apple boy? What would they stand to gain from his death?
"Horrible child," The second man agreed, "The Shadow was quite disappointed when I gave it the order to switch targets earlier today. It seemed to be looking forward to killing the girl. Although, I can't be sure since it has a face of stone."
The second man chuckled and Harriett sneered, fingers trembling as she reached in her bag. These men were underestimating her, and that revelation managed to tip the scales of fear to anger. How dare they?! She could kill them all right here, right now.
"A disgrace of a noble," the third man said, "leaving her family in a political rut like that. Nevermind the rest of what she does. Running all over the place, playing adventurer. I bet that's where she is right now. Killing goblins for a few pennies while her brother dies."
The picture floated into her mind and Harriett felt her soul shiver. She'd almost not come tonight. She'd seen a quest for goblins yesterday, an hour or two after her mother had asked her to come help. Harriett could see herself, casually killing worthless monsters just to feel good about herself. All while her little brother was bleeding out. Dying. Then the blood stopped flowing. Dead. Just like the worthless little monsters Harriett slew.
The first man said, "She's not a child anymore. The least she could do would be to die for her family. It wouldn't help them, but at least she'd have been good for something. Good for us."
No more planning. She'd never been much of a careful thinker anyways.