Nestled in the heart of the village, the inn was an old, weathered building. Its heavy stone walls, blackened by centuries of Highland rains, carried an air of timeless endurance. The scent of peat smoke drifted from the chimney, mingling with the crisp evening air as Hamish and I pushed through the door. Inside, warmth and chatter filled the room, a contrast to the cool solitude of the hills outside.
The place was lively but not crowded, the sort of gathering spot that served as the social scene of a small village. Locals exchanged stories over mugs of dark ale, their laughter bouncing off the low wooden beams. I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for my own home, so far removed from this close-knit life.
"Look at that," Hamish muttered under his breath as we stepped inside. His gaze flicked toward a familiar figure seated near the corner. Hunched over a mug, the man struggled to appear inconspicuous. "Your scientist pal? Seems he didn't scurry far."
I followed Hamish's gaze, and a deep desire to cave in someone's face washed over me. I locked eyes with the man who'd tried to assault me the last time I came to Kilrain. He froze, his face going pale, especially after seeing the man with me. Upon glancing at Hamish, I came to the realization that he did indeed look like a threat.
He kind of does look like threatening muscle now. I kept my expression neutral, but I let my eyes linger on him for a moment too long. This was just enough to let him know that I hadn't forgotten anything.
"Easy, Chief," Hamish said quietly, leaning close. "We have plenty of time to deal with that snake." Let's not jeopardize our chances by initiating a bar brawl just yet.
He was right, of course. I nodded subtly, pushing aside my desire for immediate retribution. There were bigger priorities tonight.
The innkeeper, a stout woman with graying hair and a sharp eye, approached us with a welcoming smile. "Evenin', strangers. New faces in Kilrain are rare enough. What brings you here?"
Kilrain. Kilrain is an ancient Highland village, steeped in history and legend, with its roots dating back to the days of the clans. Small enough to avoid most maps, the nearest large town would be a couple of hours by car to the southeast. Inverness.
"Evenin'," I said, offering a polite nod. "We've been working on the dig site nearby. Just thought we'd stop by and get to know the village a bit better."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "The dig site, aye? It's been a while since we had scholars poking' about. Folk here are wary of outsiders, you'll find."
"That's fair," I said, smiling companionably. "But I'm hoping to change that. Could you point me to a few folks who might be willing to chat?"
The innkeeper, Margaret, as her nameplate read, gestured toward a table near the fireplace where four villagers sat. "Them? They'll talk, but don't expect much enthusiasm. Takes time to earn trust around here."
I thanked her, then turned to Hamish. "Keep an eye on our friend in the corner, will you? I'll try not to start any fights."
Hamish grinned. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll be right here, enjoyin' the show."
I approached the table slowly, my mind already racing through possibilities. Before sitting down, I let the faint shimmer of Moira's scan ability activate. Golden arrows danced at the edges of my vision as I focused on the group.
Moira's voice dropped to a whisper, almost conspiratorial, despite the fact that only I could hear her. "Vessel," she began softly, "I've taken the liberty of scanning the villagers at the table. It's fascinating what small details can reveal, isn't it?"
I nodded subtly, my gaze flickering to the group. "What do you see?" I asked in thought, keeping my expression neutral.
"Let's start with the older man on the left," she murmured, her tone calm and measured. "He's approachable and curious, likely the type to engage with strangers if it means learning something new.
The second man, sitting beside him, has a more pragmatic edge. He believes in folklore, though he hides it well—he might test your intentions before opening up."
She paused briefly, her voice growing even quieter. "Now, the younger woman. Skeptical, cautious. She respects hard work but distrusts outsiders. Winning her over will take effort. And finally, the teenager—distant but curious about archaeology. He's bored, and you might intrigue him if you speak to that interest."
Her words lingered in my thoughts as I let my attention drift naturally to the group. "Insightful as always," I thought back. "Let's see how accurate your scans are."
I headed right over. Hamish smirked at me from afar. I probably looked like a tourist to him. I had to test this out, damn it; it's not funny.
I walked up to a chair at a rather large semi-public table. I met the group's curious—and wary—gazes with a friendly nod. "Evenin'. Mind if I join you?"
The older man with the approachable demeanor gestured to the empty seat. "Help yourself, lad. Not every day do we see strangers here."
As I sat, I felt the younger woman's sharp eyes on me, her skepticism practically radiating from across the table. I leaned into my charm, keeping my tone light and conversational. "I'm Robert McCallum, archaeologist. I've been working on the dig site near here, but I realized I've spent more time with old bones than living folk. Thought I'd remedy that."
The older man chuckled, his weathered face creasing into a smile. "Well, Robert, I'm Duncan. This here's Alistair, Nessa, and young Tom. What brings you to the Highlands?"
"History," I said simply. "I've always believed there's so much to learn from the past, especially in places as rich with stories as these hills."
Alistair, the second older man, leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Stories, aye? And what sort of stories do you think these hills have to tell?"
I scanned his expression, my Insight skill teasing out the faint flicker of suppressed wonder in his gaze. He wasn't as closed off as he wanted to appear. "The kind that remind us there's more to the world than what we see every day," I said, my tone thoughtful. "Legends, myths… sometimes they hold more truth than we give them credit for."
Alistair's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. Nessa, however, crossed her arms, her skepticism hardening. "Legends don't pay the bills, Mr. McCallum. Folk here care about what's real."
"I understand," I said, meeting her gaze calmly. "But reality isn't always what it seems. Sometimes, a fresh perspective can uncover solutions we didn't know were possible." I said, but to throw in a little extra oomph to my words, I added, "Besides. Sometimes legends DO pay the bills." With that, I tossed down two gold coins, easily worth over 5000 pounds in British currency."
Moira whispered softly in my mind, her tone fitting the mood of the moment. "Ooh, good idea, Robert. You've been doing well with these folks—time to nudge your potential a bit. I'm going to bless your persuasion powers. You might feel a little upgrade." A warm sensation spread through my chest as her words settled. "There," she continued, her voice pleased. "Your natural charm just got a little boost. Use it wisely, vessel."
These simple villagers, however, wouldn't have any idea how much they were worth; they just knew gold and silver were worth something. She whistled, nearly reaching out to pick one up, before glancing at me for permission. I nodded to her, "Sure! Take a nibble if you want." She, in fact, did nibble it to see if it was pure gold or not.
It was passing her inspection. "Oh wow... Big spender, eh?" She eyed me with an odd gleam; was that lust or greed? Philosophically speaking, is there really a difference? I amusedly smiled at her and said, "If I need to, I'm sure there's a museum somewhere that would be happy to take these off my hands as a historical artifact."
I won't get paid what these are worth, but I'm sure there's a museum somewhere that would be very happy to take them off my hands as historical artifacts. I'd like to pay for your meals to celebrate my lucky find, if you all would humor me." I asked, peeking hopefully at them.
Tom, the teenager, finally spoke up, his voice laced with curiosity and eyeing the gold coins. "So, what else have you found at the dig site? Anything interesting'?"
I smiled, grateful for the opening. "A few artifacts, some carvings... but it's not just about what we've found. It's about what those discoveries can tell us about the people who lived here long before us." Tom shrugged a bit at my words; teenage indifference is his primary skill. "Nothing sounds as interesting as that gold."
I laughed knowingly. "You have a point. I wish every dig had buried treasure." He grinned slightly, like most teenagers, just wishing someone would validate their opinions and accept what they have to say without judgment."
Tom nodded, his aloofness softening. Duncan clapped a hand on the table, his grin widening. "Well, Robert, it appears you have a challenging task ahead of you." And I, for one, would be glad to have a free meal. People here tend to be hostile to outsiders, but if you continue to speak in this manner, you might be able to win them over.
I glanced back at Hamish, who was casually leaning against the bar, his eyes flicking to the scientist every so often. He caught my look and smirked, giving me a subtle nod of approval.
The night was still young, but I could feel the pieces falling into place. If I played this right, Kilrain might just become the foundation of something extraordinary. After apparently passing their little test effectively enough, we chatted a little over fresh bread and a peppery stew. I learned details about their lives, like how farms were doing, their opinions about the royal family gossip, and other mundane small-town details.
It was nice to get to know these people.
After a while, I adjusted my seat by the inn's hearth, my thoughts racing as I let my eyes drift naturally across the room. The warm glow of the fire did little to dull the tension that had taken residence in my chest since I noticed the same man who had tried to sabotage me just a couple of days ago.
The smug man sat at the far end of the room, hunched over a bowl of stew as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
I let my gaze linger for a moment, practicing subtlety, before glancing away. Dressed like an academic, he wore a worn tan jacket with an excessive number of pockets and carried a satchel over his chair.
Print He didn't belong here, and the name was "Dr. Langston Parry.". Ah ha. Now I know you, Dr. Parry. His presence advertised mischief. I needed to know why he was here and why he felt like attacking me in an alley was a good idea.
"Moira," I thought, carefully keeping my expression neutral. "Can you pass a word to Hamish? If this man tries to run, make sure Hamish… encourages him to stay."
Her soft laugh tickled my thoughts. "Oh, vessel, your trust in Hamish is well-placed. I'll let him know." There was a pause, and then she added, "He says, and I quote, 'I'll hold the lad by his scruff if he so much as blinks wrong.'"
I smirked into my mug of tea. "Tell him not to be too aggressive… unless it's necessary."
Without wasting any time, I activated Insight and let the soft pulse of Moira's magic seep through me. The world seemed to sharpen as I turned my attention back to Langston. Lines of golden text shimmered faintly in my vision, scrolling through his status like a sheet of paper unraveling itself.
Scanning…
Name: Dr. Langston Parry
Class: Engineer, Artifact Researcher
Level: 5
Primary Motive: To recover and suppress artifacts of magical significance for personal gain and external directives.
Secondary Motive: To gather intelligence on Robert McCallum's recent activities and determine his potential threat level. If the situation becomes problematic, the removal process will be authorized.
Disposition Toward Robert: Cautiously Hostile.
I set my tea down slowly, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. So, Langston wasn't here by coincidence. He was after me again. A flicker of heat rose in my chest, but I pushed it down. Reacting emotionally would only give him an advantage.
"Cautiously hostile," Moira murmured, her voice soft in my mind. "Vessel, would you like some advice?"
"I'm listening, but that scan is incredibly powerful. Why arent we using that on everyone?" I replied. "Well, its always there, you just have to focus on it. And its usually not so detailed, its working on him because the system views him as an enemy combatant... Ever since he attacked you, it was able to glean far more data. Anyway. Listen," she continued...
"Don't confront him immediately. Observe him for now. Let him stew in his own unease while you gather the information you need. He's a sharp one, but he's rattled being this close to you."
I nodded subtly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Langston hadn't glanced my way yet, but I was certain he knew I was there. If his motives were what Insight revealed, then he wouldn't make a move unless he felt cornered. That suited me just fine.
After a moment of quiet observation, I rose to my feet, taking my mug with me, and approached Langston's table. He didn't look up until I was standing directly beside him. Despite Moira's advice and my own good sense, I couldn't get 'removal authorized' out of my mind. That's a threat, and I admit...I have a problem with being threatened, so…confrontation time.
"Good evening," I said, my voice calm but firm. "Mind if I join you?"
Langston's spoon hovered midair before he slowly placed it back in the bowl. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, the wariness in them poorly concealed. "Mr. McCallum," he said, his tone measured. "I didn't expect to see you here."
I offered a small, polite smile and pulled out a chair, sitting before he could protest. "I didn't expect to see you here, either," I replied. "Small world, isn't it?"
Langston's lips pressed into a thin line. "Indeed."
The air between us was tense, but I didn't break eye contact. If he wanted to play coy, I'd let him.
"I've been speaking with the locals," I said after a pause, leaning back in my chair. "Lovely people. Very welcoming. Have you had the same experience?"
Langston's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "I've found them… accommodating."
"Good," I said, letting the word hang in the air. "It's important to make a good first impression, especially when you're a visitor. First impressions are hard to shake, Doctor." I said politely, but my gaze hardened as I stared at him, daring him to try something again. This worm would absolutely find attacking me a wholly different experience now.
For a brief moment, something flickered across Langston's face, annoyance maybe, but he quickly masked it. "And what brings you to this quiet little village, Mr. McCallum?" He had lost his appetite, pushing his bowl away from himself slightly; his fingers trembled. He was afraid. Good.
"Oh, you know me," I said with a faint shrug. "Always chasing history, trying to piece together the puzzle of what came before. But I'm also quite interested in the future."
Langston's knuckles whitened as he gripped his spoon. "How philosophical of you."
I tilted my head slightly, studying him. Insight had been clear about his motives, but I wanted to hear it from his own lips—or, at least, see if he'd slip. "And you, Dr. Parry? Still chasing the scientific method, or have you found something more…unconventional to pique your interest?"
Langston's jaw tightened, and for a split second, his eyes darted to his satchel. It was subtle, but I caught it. Something valuable was there—something tied to his motives.
"I stick to what I know," Langston said carefully. "It's safer that way."
"Safer," I echoed, letting the word roll off my tongue. "Safety is a noble pursuit, isn't it, Hamish?"
Hamish, who had been leaning casually against the bar, straightened and approached our table. He was calm, but his presence carried a weight that Langston clearly felt.
"Safety's important, aye," Hamish said, his tone dry as he rested a hand on the back of Langston's chair. "But it's funny how often it's folks like us who find trouble, eh, Chief?"
Langston swallowed visibly, his gaze flicking between Hamish and me. "I assure you, I have no intention of causing trouble." He said. Yeah. Not at the moment. I thought to myself.
I smiled faintly, leaning forward. "Good to hear. Trouble has a way of finding me lately, and I'd hate for it to spill onto someone undeserving."
Langston's lips twitched, but he said nothing. I let the silence hang for a moment longer before standing. "Oh, and you know, you were wrong the other day. You told me, 'Your life and your knowledge are not meant for this path.' You couldn't have been more wrong. My life and my knowledge were DESTINED! for this path.
What I've discovered would turn your hair white." Langston frowned deeply at these words, and he squinted slightly at me as if he just learned something he needed to know, but he was smart enough not to say anything.
"Enjoy your meal, Dr. Parry," I said, my tone polite but firm. "Perhaps we'll speak again soon."
Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked back toward the hearth, Hamish falling into step beside me.
"He's hiding something," Hamish whispered to himself.
"Obviously," I replied. "I don't think he'll be a problem for a while yet, but we'll deal with him later. For now, we focus on the landowners."
Hamish nodded, his eyes glinting with quiet determination. "Aye, Chief. That's my feeling' too."
The warmth of the inn's hearth did little to thaw the icy knot forming in my chest. Langston's presence weighed heavily on my mind, his motives clear enough from my Insight skill.
Yet, even as I tried to focus on the task ahead, meeting with the landowners, I couldn't shake the idea that letting Langston go unchecked could spell disaster. He wasn't here by accident. He was following me, watching me, plotting something.
I leaned against the wooden post by the hearth, my arms crossed as I stared at the flickering flames. In the periphery, Hamish stood near the bar, his casual demeanor belied by the sharp focus in his eyes. I hadn't needed to tell him to keep an eye on Langston; he was already doing it.
"Moira," I thought, closing my eyes briefly. "I need your counsel."
Her voice came to me like the first notes of a harp, soft and lilting. "I'm always here, vessel. What's troubling you?"
I hesitated, unsure how to frame my thoughts. "Langston. He's dangerous, and we both know he's not here for the scenery. He's likely carrying something, something meant to harm or disrupt what we're building, possibly. Should I… deal with him?"
There was a pause, and when Moira spoke again, her tone was measured, almost cautious. "When you say 'deal with,' are we talking about confrontation, or something more…permanent?"
I opened my eyes and sighed, watching the flames dance. "I don't know. Confronting him openly could backfire, but if I send Hamish after him once he leaves, we could intercept whatever he's carrying. Maybe confiscate it. The question is whether that's the right call."
Moira's response was serious, carrying none of the playful mirth she usually has. "Oh, vessel, you humans and your eternal wrestling with morality. It's both admirable and exhausting." She paused, then continued, "Tell me, what do you think is the difference between good and evil?"
The question caught me off guard. "You're asking me?"
"Of course," she said, her tone teasing. "You're the one with the dilemma, after all."
I mulled it over, the words coming slowly. "Good… good is helping others. It's putting the needs of the many above the selfish desires of the few. Evil, then, is the opposite, harming others for personal gain or out of spite or hatred.
I'd have to say good is bringing positive outcomes to others sometimes at the expense of self, while evil focuses entirely on the self at the expense of others."
"Ah," Moira said, her voice tinged with amusement. "A classic definition. But what of those moments where harm is necessary to achieve the greater good? What of those decisions where the line blurs, where one must act decisively to prevent greater harm?"
I frowned. "You're saying there's no clear line?"
"I'm saying," she replied gently, "that the line shifts depending on your perspective. I am neither good nor evil, vessel. I am a tool, a force of nature. My power is yours to wield as you see fit, but the consequences of your choices will always be yours to bear."
Her words settled over me like a heavy blanket, their weight pressing against my chest. "So, you don't care how I use your power?"
"I care," she said softly, "because I care for you. But I am not here to impose my will upon you. That is not my role. I state the goal; you choose how to achieve it."
"And what do you suggest?" I asked, my voice low.
"I suggest balance," she said. "Good often yields better results, but not always. Sometimes, a firm hand is necessary. Sometimes, you must walk the darker path. But the danger lies in becoming lost within it, in allowing the darkness to consume you.
That is where caution must prevail. Using your definition of good and evil: too good, and you spend all that you are and leave nothing for yourself, causing your own failure. "Too evil, and the world itself rebels against you, ultimately causing your failure, or you win and rule over the ashes."
Her words rang with a quiet truth, and I found myself nodding. "So, you're saying I shouldn't send Hamish after Langston."
"I'm saying," she replied, "that the choice is yours. But ask yourself this: what do you gain from that path? And what might you lose?"
I leaned back against the post, my gaze shifting to Hamish. He caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his expression. I gave him a slight nod, and he moved closer.
"Hamish," I said quietly, keeping my voice low. "If Langston leaves, follow him. Keep it subtle—don't engage unless you're certain he's carrying something dangerous."
Hamish's lips quirked into a faint grin. "Subtle's not my strong suit, Chief, but I'll manage."
"Just don't break him in half," I muttered. "Not yet."
Hamish chuckled and gave a short nod before returning to his watchful post near the bar.
Moira's voice returned, a quiet whisper in my mind. "A measured approach. Sensible, though I see you're still conflicted."
I exhaled sharply. "It's hard not to be. I don't want to start down a path I can't come back from."
"And that," she said warmly, "is what will keep you balanced, vessel. You wrestle with these choices because you care. That, more than anything, is what makes you worthy of my power."
I straightened, glancing toward the door. My real goal tonight was still ahead. "One more question, Moira."
"Always," she replied.
"Do you think I'll ever feel confident in these decisions?"
She chuckled but didn't respond to me.
As I was considering morals and balancing hypotheticals to plot a course in the future, Hamish gave me a small nudge with his elbow, interrupting my thoughts.
"Hey, Chief," he said, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable slyness. "I, uh… Moira gave me a new skill. Might come in handy, if you're interested."
I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"
Hamish nodded slowly, leaning closer to speak in hushed tones, his face breaking into a sly smile. "Yeah. Intimidation. Apparently, my little subtle threat inspired your system to give me a bonus for intimidating people with my threats. ... I like it. A lot."
I regarded Hamish thoughtfully, his words sparking a subtle shift in my mind. Before I could respond, a vision unfolded, unbidden yet vivid, as if drawn directly from my subconscious, or perhaps Moira's influence.
Hamish stood upon a wooden command stage, flanked by high-ranked individuals seated behind him, the subtle signs of his age erased, replaced by an aura of energy and vigor. His voice boomed with authority as he spoke.
There was a man standing slightly behind him and to the left. Flames dancing up his fists, but not burning his uniform. Hamish's voice rippled outward in waves of sheer confidence.
Before him stretched columns of soldiers; their ranks varied yet unified. Some bore gleaming swords that pulsed faintly with magical energy, others carried staves crackling with power, and an archer core stood at attention, their bows adorned with intricate runes.
There were whole battalions standing at attention, and some groups of them weren't even human. There were kobolds and giant stone men; there was a flurry of wings beating in the air, and I noticed tiny armored figures flying and carrying spears, each glowing a different color, and many more.
These weren't just soldiers; they were defenders of Albion—of all that made our world feel alive, vibrant, and worth protecting.
Hamish thrust his fist into the air, and as though with one mind, the gathered warriors roared in unison, their voices shaking the ground. The sheer force of their resolve impressed me; their collective strength was a shield against whatever forces might seek to extinguish the light of life itself.
As the vision faded, I blinked hard, only to find Hamish's current self gazing back at me, a frown creasing his brow.
"What?" I muttered, rubbing my left eye in a futile attempt to ground myself.
Hamish's expression darkened slightly, though it was edged with concern. "I said, what are you staring at?"
I shook my head, a small smirk playing on my lips. "Oh, just thinking. Wondering when Moira's going to start smoothing out your wrinkles."
Hamish barked a laugh, the roughness of his voice still tinged with humor. "Wrinkles? These are battle lines, Chief. Earned every damn one of 'em."
"Right," I replied, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. "Still, a touch of magical youthfulness wouldn't hurt."
Hamish threw his head back with a mock laugh, then turned toward the shimmering glow on my forearm. "Yeah, Lady M," he added with exaggerated flair, "when do I get some attention? Or is all your magic reserved for the chief?"
Moira giggled, a melodic sound that rippled through both our minds like sunlight dancing on water. Her tone was warm and teasing, yet it carried a thread of genuine affection. "Soon, Sir Ham. Soon."
Hamish gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Ham! I never!" His theatrics drew a helpless laugh from me, one that released some of the tension that had been building since we'd entered the inn.
As Hamish returned to his watchful position, his jagged blade resting lazily on his shoulder, Moira's voice drifted softly into my thoughts once more. "You see his potential now, don't you?"
I didn't respond immediately, instead letting my gaze linger on Hamish as he scanned the room, his sharp eyes catching every subtle movement. "I saw it long before the vision," I finally admitted. "But yes… it's clearer now. He's more than he seems."
Moira's voice hummed with approval. "He'll be your shield when the world turns its spears upon you. Treat him with care, vessel. Such loyalty, once earned, is rare and precious."