Infinite Farmer-Chapter 125: Cleric

Tulland’s mind reeled.

“To retrieve me? That means you are from Ouros?” He shook his head. “No, I’d know you if you were from Ouros.”

“We are from the mainland. We were dispatched to Ouros to follow you into that gate. Into this… place. To bring you back.”

“Dispatched by whom?” Tulland asked.

“The Church. The Bishop himself.” There were several bishops of the church, each presiding over a different area. Tulland let that quibble pass. The man pulled himself up so straight and proud at the mention of the Bishop that it had to be his local one. “It took time to get to Ouros, Tulland. We apologize for the delay.”

“That’s… fine, I suppose. One moment, please.” Tulland walked over to where Potter was standing. If anyone would be able to decode this, he would. “Potter, what in the world is going on here? Can they actually get me out?”

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Potter shook his head, sadly. “No. It’s one of the things that confuses me about this, Tulland. These people are convinced they came here to retrieve you. But I have no idea why they would think that was possible. It’s not possible on any world, as far as anyone knows.”

“Best guess as to what’s going on, then?”

Potter closed his eyes for a moment, in thought. “No idea. Talk to them more. I’ll let you know.”

“Sorry about that.” Tulland returned to the line. The clerics-in-training had been standing there the entire time, calmly waiting for him. “You said you were going to retrieve me. But how? Do you know where you are?”

“We were told. The System tricked you through the arch, into this place. The Church leadership said we could expect almost anything in here. That the System would make it look like anything he wished. We didn’t expect a facsimile of The Infinite Dungeon, but…”

“No.” Tulland’s mind was turbulent with horror. “You have to know this. It’s no trick, Rossi. This is the real The Infinite. Why would the Church send you here? There’s no way out.”

The softest of murmurs came up from the mouths of the clerics under Rossi’s command. Apparently, this idea wasn’t new to them. Rossi shot them a look of frustrated concern, like any commander might when he felt his control over his troops loosening.

“No. I see he has you tricked, too. No matter.” Rossi reached into his mail, pulling out an amulet about the size of his own palm. “We can explain what happened on the outside. People are waiting for you there, Tulland.”

He lifted the amulet up into the light, where it glinted in the sun.

“As representative of the holy Church of the expulsion, I, Rossi, activate this amulet. Remove us from this place.”

There was nothing anyone could do. By nature of being here, Rossi and his crew were all but guaranteed to be about as strong as everyone else. There was certainly nobody quick enough to get to him and hold his arms down. Licht and the other ranged fighters present didn’t know enough to justify shooting the amulet out of his hands. So the amulet shone in a dull way that hinted at solid-gold construction, while the entire town looked on, waiting to see what it would unleash on them.

In the end, nothing happened at all.

“What?” Rossi brought the amulet down and glared at it, looking up at the group with threats in his eyes when it continued to lie there inert. “Which of you is preventing the amulet from activating?”

“None of us.” Brist picked a chunk of grain husk out of his teeth and flicked it away. “How could we? Nobody knew you had it.”

“Silence!” Rossi shouted not at Brist, but at his own men, who were beginning to murmur among themselves. Whatever the amulet was supposed to do, it appeared to be a big problem that it wasn’t doing its job. “Hold your tongues.”

“Sir.” One of the older looking semi-clerics stepped forward. The tone in his voice as he addressed his superior left no doubt that they had been in conflict before this. “You swore, Rossi. You swore that damn thing was real.”

“And it is! How would I get it in here, otherwise? Did any of your things come through with you? The weapons you tried to smuggle? No. Just this made it through with us. You saw me protecting it from the motes at the entrance gate,” Rossi defended himself.

“Then why won’t it…”

“I don’t know, dammit!” Rossi yelled so hard his voice nearly cracked. “I don’t know. Tulland, get over here. Let me…”

“Wait. Just wait.” Tulland rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and took a deep breath. “I’m not coming there. You aren’t coming here. Just… wait for a minute.”

Somehow, the man actually took the restriction seriously. So did his troops. They sat and waited as Tulland stood in the center of a crowd that had eyes for absolutely nobody but him. He only had one person he could ask about what was going on, and he got the feeling even he would need more information than what any one person could offer.

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“Tell me in as few words as possible why you are here,” Tulland spoke in a soft voice, knowing it would carry over the silence. “Now, please.”

“As an envoy of the holy Church, I was summoned from my preparations to leave for the darkness of the border. Then…”

“Too many words. I’m sorry. I just don’t have the energy for this right now. Shorter words. Figure it out.”

Rossi took visible affront to that, but Tulland didn’t care. All of this hurt his head in a way he wasn’t at all prepared for, this early in the morning. Whatever was planned here was planned without him, and so far, Rossi had done nothing but rile up the village and try to do something with an amulet. Something that he made no effort to see if Tulland wanted.

“I was sent through the arch after you. To this world of illusion the System built, to retrieve you or die in the attempt,” Rossi said.

Oh, no.

What? What’s happening?

I’m not sure yet, but I think this man has been put in a very poor position. Ask some more questions. It hardly matters which ones.

“The Church sent you? Knowing what the arch was?”

“It did.” Rossi drew up to a full, proud posture again. “Me and the hand-chosen few who had failed to receive classes, but only just. We were to break the fabric of this place and carry you back with us in the grand ejection.”

“The… fabric of this place? You were going to destroy The Infinite? That was your plan?”

Rossi smiled at Tulland weakly, sadness and condescension visible in his face at once.

“Is that what you think? That this place is The Infinite? That such a place would be accessible through a mere arch, available to anyone with the ability to walk? Tulland Lowstreet, don’t be a fool. Now come, and…”

“Come on, Tulland.” Brist patted Tulland’s shoulder. “We had a meeting planned. About what you told us about secret dungeons. We might as well add this mess to it. Right, Potter?”

“Yes. I think this would be best handled as soon as possible. But not before your… friends?” Potter asked.

Tulland shook his head, exhausted.

“Your fellow-worlders then. Not before they’ve had a few minutes to get their bearings. White, could you please instruct them as to what will happen if they attempt to cause any trouble here?”

“Of course. It would be a bad idea,” White yelled.

—

Tulland had always been curious about White’s class.

One day as he and White had sat cooling off outside the bathhouse, Tulland asked him why he was so good at yelling. White had no problem rattling off a list of three or four minor skills he had been able to add to his class during his trip through The Infinite. They were products, he said, that came of anyone with his class and experience trying to get them while maintaining just the right mindset. The first was a troop-command skill, something White hadn’t been sure he’d need at all but had put to very good use on this floor. He said that back when he was the leader of the guard corp of a major city, it was all that stood between the ordered movement of troops and pure, unfeigned chaos. Tulland thought he was probably exaggerating, but having felt the effects of the skill, he knew it was just about powerful enough to prevent that kind of chaos if it really was looming.

The second skill hadn’t been that interesting but had been useful to White up to now, something that let him designate a target as the enemy of local law and order. His peacekeeping class would then work at an amplified level against those targets, as would anybody fighting under his command. It was part of the reason they had done so well in the cooperative floors up to this point.

The third one had the least to do with Tulland directly, but was the most interesting by far to him, so much that he had White write it out in the dirt so he could make sure he was understanding it correctly.

Lawman’s Warning

As a function of your class, you can reveal the strength of the forces you command to as many as a thousand targets at once. They can not refuse this revelation, and it cannot be blocked by most conventional means.

The information relayed comprises your personal strength and your best, most honest understanding of the strength of the forces beneath you that you could reasonably be expected to bring to bear. Any force you are less than confident you can order, cajole, or otherwise convince to join the fight on your behalf will be ignored.

The target will receive this report in the form of a vague feeling of the relative strength of their forces as they understand them and yours. They will gain no specifics to back up this feeling, but will nonetheless understand the information received to be basically true.

You will receive no information on the strength of their forces in return for giving up data on yours. The advantage you gain from this skill, if any, is simply the ability to accurately warn an enemy about what they are about to face should they anger you.

“That’s wild. Does it even work?” Tulland asked.

“It works just fine. The trick is that you never want to use a skill like this unless you are sure, flat-out sure, that your opponent is going to be scared by what you show them. If they have hidden forces, you might just be telling them how easy you’d be to take down.” White smiled, his eyes full of warm memories of terrorizing criminals. “But when it works? It works wonders.”

—

Back in the present day, White’s voice relayed his impression of the strength of the floor’s allied forces to everyone present. To Tulland, it was a reassuring thing. He thought of everyone around him as impossibly strong, so White’s more sober assessment couldn’t avoid being somewhat lower. It was still strong, though. Tulland had a sudden sense that he was surrounded by competence so deep it could rival the deepest canyons he had ever heard of. It was a nice thing to know, at least from his perspective.

From the perspective of the cleric squad, it was apparently a less positive experience. Tulland watched the color drain from each of their faces as the skill imparted on them the sheer certainty of their demise if they showed any aggression to the already annoyed mob whose territory they had invaded. He didn’t think they’d be trying any quick ones any time soon.

“Let’s go, Tulland.” Necia tugged on his arm, dragging him through the crowd and towards the meeting-place building. “We can handle this later.”