Bog Standard Isekai
Book 2. Chapter 7

“Bruna Pimental is a [Witch],” said Brin.

It had taken until the following morning for Brin to see Hogg again, and the man definitely wasn’t happy to be down in the cold cellar this early in the morning.

“Congratulations!” said Hogg sarcastically. “You got the easy one. Now if there’s nothing else…”

“Hold on! You let me eat dinner with her weekly. For months! What happened to ‘never accept a [Witch’s] hospitality?” asked Brin.

“Accepting a [Witch’s] hospitality will put you in her power. But you only need to worry about that if you think she’s going to do something bad with that power. I don’t think she means you any harm.”

“But you don’t suspect any of the seven [Witches] in particular. That’s why they’re all still alive,” said Brin.

“Sure, but especially her. Bruna is exactly what she seems. A nice lady, a dutiful mother, a good farmer.” Hogg crooked an eyebrow suggestively. “A loyal wife, too. I don’t know if you think you have a chance there but–”

“Oh shut up. How do you even know about that? Never mind, don’t answer that,” said Brin. “It was embarrassing, but I learned some stuff from that. First, that Poco is a familiar, and second that [Witches] can see and hear through their familiars. It’s no wonder you built this anti-espionage circle. Every raven or crow might be a spy.”

“More likely a raven than a crow,” said Hogg. When Brin didn’t respond, he continued. “Because crows move in flocks and ravens are solitary?”

“Oh,” said Brin. “I didn’t know that. I thought they were synonymous.”

“Then your education has been sorely lacking.”

“What about undead?”

“What about them?”

“Can [Witches] see through the eyes of their undead?” asked Brin. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴøᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Hogg leaned forward, suddenly excited. “That’s a good question! It’s a good question because everyone thinks the answer is obvious. Of course they can. Why wouldn’t they? They’re [Witches]? They can turn people into animals, why wouldn’t they be able to do something as obvious as see through the eyes of the undead they’ve raised? But the more I see, the more I’m certain.”

“You’re saying they actually can’t,” said Brin.

“That’s right. They can’t. There are too many things that they should’ve done that they didn’t do, that can only be explained by a delay in communication. Also, the [Witches] of Arcaena have a tremendous number of [Illusionists] on staff. Their armies are always covered in illusions, in invisible eyes and the like. Why would they bother with that, unless they had to? I think they have to order their undead around exactly the same as any [General]. I think the undead have to report back, in person, if the [Witches] want to know what the scouts have found. Or supplement with [Illusionists] and their familiars.”

“Wait. That night, back when I was still alone in Travin’s Bog, the undead all got incredibly smart all of a sudden, like they were being directed by something with a mind. When I told you about that, you all assumed that the [Necromancer] who raised the army had visited that day. We followed the trail, even though it was days old. Only, the trail didn’t lead to a [Necromancer], or a [Witch] for that matter. It led to a Lambent Phasmid that was way too high level to make any kind of sense. You all assumed that the [Witch] flew away, leaving no trail. But what if it was something else? Is there any chance that the Phasmid was a familiar?”

“Damn,” said Hogg.

“What?”

“Well, it’s just that I didn’t think of that,” said Hogg.

Brin blinked a couple times. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, a lot’s been on my mind. I can’t be expected to always think of everything!”

Brin laughed. “Right. Pay up.”

“For what?”

“For guessing Bruna!”

“Right now? I kind of figured that at the end we could–”

“No way. It’s more fun if you have to shell out every time I guess one,” said Brin.

Hogg scowled, but dug in his pockets for ten gold coins and counted them out into Brin’s palms. “Happy? Now I’m going to get some tea.”

“Wait! I still had more… he’s already gone.”

As soon as Hogg left the circle he wouldn’t be able to hear anything from the inside, so it was useless to shout.

Brin looked at the gold in his hand and smiled. Six more to go. He had an idea for the next one, but after that he was stumped. There were a few leads, sure, but mostly his list consisted of all the most powerful people in town. It made sense that high-level people would be using [Witch] to supplement their skill.

Hogg closed the door to the cellar, and Brin jumped out, following him into the house. “I still have more questions!”

“Well, it’s too late. Questions on that topic need to stay in the cellar,” said Hogg.

“Then I’ll ask a more general one. Let’s say I’m a [Carpenter] who changes Classes to [Smith]. Can I still get new [Carpenter] Skills or will they all be [Smith] going forwards?”

“They’ll all be [Smith]. So you would be able to tell that they’d switched their Class by the fact that their [Carpenter] advancement seemed to stall out. But I should warn you, there are all sorts of complicated Classes. [Wood and Black Smith], for example. That’s one Class that does both wood and iron. It probably isn’t worth taking because the leveling speed is atrocious. But if you really wanted the Skills from both, I guess you could do it.”

“Thanks,” said Brin.

“You’re welcome. Now leave me alone! A retired person shouldn’t be up this early.”

Brin left for Ademir’s shop next. Ademir was doing window panes today, which wasn’t something he was ready to let Brin try next.

Oddly, the way Ademir made glass for windows started off much the same as bottles. He scooped up a large glob of glass on the end of his blowpipe, and blew it exactly like he was making a bottle, only this would be more of a ten gallon jug than a bottle. It was so big that he stood on a tall stool and let gravity pull it down, blowing and twisting all the while.

Brin assisted by pricking the bottom, which made it open up on the end, and then when it was done he struck the top with a hammer, breaking it off and leaving only a perfect cylinder. Then Ademir cut down one side and put it in a separate furnace where they used a long hoe to open it up and make it flat.

It was mostly an Ademir job, but he let Brin blow glass bottles in between window panes.

“Can I put some mana in it?” asked Brin.

“If you’re ready to clean my shop again,” Ademir said with a smile. “Why not try this? Think blue thoughts.”

“Come again?”

“Just what I said. Think of the color blue while it’s spinning. And let a trickle of mana into it. A tiny amount. Changing the glass’s color will come sooner than changing its shape, I think.”

Brin tried to do what he said, thinking of the bottle turning blue and shoving mana into it while he worked. He made four, five, then six bottles during the shift, and none of them changed color in the slightest. The work was noticeably easier than it had been before he’d upgraded [Shape Glass] in little ways that were hard to define, but they all stayed the foggy white color. The seventh bottle would be his last, and this time he shoved his mana into it as hard as he could. The bottle started to turn ugly, and he cut it off, but it was too late. The bottle was completely black.

Ademir shrugged, “I can sell a black bottle. I can’t sell a mess on my floor. This is a win in my book.”

Brin chuckled. “You have the patience of a saint. Hey, look, about the other day, it left a bad taste in my mouth how I left things. I know you never told me why [Crafters] can’t fight. I don’t know if it’s because the Class just doesn’t give you any offensive abilities or if it actually stops you from fighting…”

Ademir scratched his chin. “I suppose I never said.”

After a pregnant pause, it was clear he didn’t mean to either.

“That being said,” Brin continued, “I just wanted to say I admire it. It’s really brave, what you’re doing.”

Ademir nodded, meeting his eye. “Thanks, Brin. I rather expected you to call it cowardly.”

“Not at all,” said Brin. “Cowards are people who betray their own ideals out of fear. Choosing a peaceful life and sticking to it, even knowing that means you may be exposed to danger some day, is extremely brave.

Ademir nodded and shrugged and turned back to the glass.

Brin got a notification when he was cleaning up the shop after the shift.

Level up! Level 5 -> 6. +2 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +2 Mental Control, +1 Will, +2 free attributes.

His next stop was Chamylla’s place. Again he had the same predicament as with Bruna, because he knew that if he visited her she would want to feed him. It had the same answer, though. If Chamylla really wanted to Hex him, she’d had every opportunity.

Instead, she’d treated him with all possible courtesy, every single time he came by. It was one of the things he liked about the old [Enchantress]. Everyone else swayed with popular opinion, but she never did.

The sign on her door said “Chamylla the [Enchantress], by appointment only” and he still didn’t know how to make an appointment. He knocked, and she answered.

The tall woman with a tightly bound gray bun and an elegant black dress opened the door. She was rather severe-looking, with piercing black eyes and a hooked nose, but she greeted him with a smile. “Oh, Brin, do come in.”

“I wanted to ask, how do I make an appointment?” he said, hesitating at the threshold.

“Just like that, dear. I only have that sign so that I can turn people away if I don’t wish to speak with them. But you’re always welcome here, and you too, Marksi.”

The rainbow lizard darted in first and curled up on the sofa, looking at Brin expectantly. At some point, Marksi had figured out that Chamylla was the source of the magical “snacks” Brin had been buying him.

He entered the sitting room. Chamylla had spared no expense; now that Brin had value sense, he knew that she wasn’t faking it. Chamylla was rich. This sitting room would’ve cost more than most people in Hammon’s Bog made in a year.

The velvet sofas were almost too nice to sit on, and the wooden end tables and coffee table were all “Bog Standard” according to his [Inspect], and so fabulously intricate that they could’ve belonged to royalty back on earth.

“Oh, sit, sit. I can’t believe I still have to say it after all this time.” She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a serving tray covered with open-faced sandwiches and some mugs of tea.

As soon as she set it down, Marksi pounced and flicked his forked tongue in and out of his mug of tea.

“Isn’t that hot?”

“It’s quite hot,” Chamylla said with an amused grin. “Go ahead. Eat!”

Brin took a sandwich and immediately took a bite. Someday Chamylla would see the light and start putting her sandwiches together, but even so they were very good. The bread was a lot nicer than the stuff Hogg bought.

“So what’ll it be? Another marble with heat, and one with cold?” asked Chamylla.

“Well, I sort of hoped we could talk about something,” said Brin. “Marksi ate a beast core.”

She crooked an eyebrow. “I noticed.”

“It wasn’t my idea! He swallowed it before I could stop him!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It looks like it was quite beneficial.”

“Does that mean I should buy him some more beast cores?” Brin asked.

Chamylla took a sip of her tea, and winced. “Still too hot. No, on the contrary. Doing that would turn him into something… abhorrent. Unearned power is a curse. How did you come into possession of this beast core? Do you remember?”

“It was a Facaldagart. It attacked us at the Spinewolf Den,” said Brin. “Marksi helped me take it down. He snuck up and bit its eye, right at the perfect moment.”

“Then there you go. Continue like that. Let Marksi work with you. Split the work with him, and the spoils. Do that and you can’t go wrong.”

“Thanks. I will,” said Brin. He listened to the music from her enchanted harp for a minute, his mind processing her advice. He didn’t do much monster-slaying as a [Glasser]. Did that mean that Marksi would stagnate? He was supposed to let Marksi work with him, doing whatever he did, but there wasn’t much for a little lizard to do when it came to crafting. Or maybe he wasn’t giving Marksi enough credit. He’d figure out some way for him to help.

“I bought a stick from Perris. He said I should make a spear out of it. What do you think would be good?”

“Oh, perhaps I could put some more durability on it, but wood is tricky. Honestly I think you’d be better off enchanting the head,” said Chamylla.

“It’ll be glass,” said Brin. “Actually, that’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. The [Woodworker] that made this used Skills that made the wood extra strong already. Isn’t that like an enchantment? What’s the difference between that and what you do?”

“We call those System enchantments. The [Cellarman] is the best example, actually. He can refrigerate the cellars and put further enchantments in place to preserve food and keep out vermin. It’s similar to what I do in effect but not method. Our [Cellarman] is Stevo, by the way. He’s my son-in-law, did you know that? My Severi married him. I had a son, too, but he passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” said Brin. “That must’ve been terrible. I don’t know what it’s like to be a mother, but I know what it’s like to lose people.”

Chamylla inclined her head graciously. “Anywho, Stevo has specific Skills for each of his enchantments, and doesn’t speak a word of the Language. On the other hand, I put every Skill point I can into [Enchant]. Using the magical Language, I can enchant nearly anything with no real limits as to the possible effects, other than my knowledge and power. Enchantments are very, very difficult, and it took years of study before I was ready to do even the simplest light enchantment.”

“So, basically, it’s a higher difficulty for higher flexibility?” asked Brin.

“Exactly that,” said Chamylla. “Many [Mages] are also apt enchanters. I can only imbue magic into objects; I can’t cast spells. But anyone who can do spells can also enchant, even without the specific Skill. And they’ve already learned the Language to cast spells with, so they have a head start in enchanting. The Language is the Language. Once you know it, you know it. It doesn’t matter what Class you have, the Language is useful to everyone. On that note, has Hogg begun to tutor you in it?”

“No. He wants to wait until… until I’m level fifteen at least,” said Brin.

“Well, that’s no excuse,” she said. “Everyone should learn, and you have a sharp mind; I can tell. There’s nothing for it! I’ll teach you.”

Brin spluttered, “I– You… You don’t have to…”

“The work of learning the Language is the work of years. There’s no reason to delay,” she said.

Brin set the last open sandwich down, with a single bite taken out of it. Marksi sniffed it, then took a timid bite. Well, Marksi could have it.

Black, undeserved suspicion filled Brin, and his stomach roiled with guilt, but couldn’t help but wonder why Chamylla was being so nice. She actually wasn’t this nice to most people; he’d asked around. There was no way around it. He had to know.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

She nodded, like she’d been expecting the answer. “How could I not? I had a son, you know, who died. And then I see you, and I knew exactly. I knew what your mother was.”

Brin swallowed. “You know that my mother was a…”

“An [Enchantress],” said Chamylla.

Brin sighed. Oh. So that’s what she was getting at. Of course.

“She gave me… that thing [Enchantresses] can make, the one that saves your life one time.”

“The Mother’s Knot. Yes. I recognize the scar. I gave one to my son, too. But then he died twice,” said Chamylla. “He fancied himself an adventurer.”

That’s all. She recognized the huge, obvious ax-wound scar splitting his forehead, and deduced how someone could survive something like that. She hadn’t figured out that his mother was a [Witch]. At the same time, he was no closer to figuring out if she was a [Witch].

He used [Inspect].

Chamylla Abril Human Level 49 Description: Chamylla is an enchantress who you patronize regularly. Her manners are more refined than most people in Hammon’s Bog. She may have been born elsewhere. Skills: Enchant. The [Enchantress] can use her personal mana and knowledge of the Language to imbue an object with magical abilities.

He decided to take a chance. “It messed with my memories. I don’t remember much from my life before. But I do know a couple things. She was an [Enchantress]. She was also a [Witch].”

Chamylla set her tea down. “Oh dear.”

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