Of course Wepwawet’s ‘sacred food’ would be lettuce. His father force-fed it to him for so long that it stained his very divinity! At least he had retained the wolf and spear as his trademark animal and weapon. Lettuce could thrive in cold climates with the proper care and Narc’s inhabitants seemed happy to have free food at the very least, so it wasn’t an entire waste of mana.
Wepwawet swiftly followed through by claiming Victoire Fleuret as his first Champion and Commander. Adopting a Champion didn’t cost anything besides the mortal’s consent, but increasing her rank from two to three did force him to spend a point of mana. His power flowed into her and unlocked more of her slumbering potential.
Victoire Fleuret has ranked up in Snowheart! +3 STR, +3 AGI, +3 VIT, +4 SKI, +3 MAG, +3 INT, +4 CHA, +3 LCK! She gained the Frost Infusion Perk!
Frost Infusion: Can empower their weapon with the power of Frost for five minutes and gain a chance equal to LCK/2 to inflict the Freeze ailment on successful damage.
Oh? Why did Victoire’s Skill and Charisma increase more than the others? Wepwawet quickly checked her chosen class.
Snowheart: Fighter/Spellcaster. A monster slayer adept at leading troops in the heart of winter; excels in both battle and leadership. Strength (B), Agility (B), Vitality (B), Skill (A), Magic (B), Intelligence (B), Charisma (A), Luck (B).
So each class had specific stat growth rates. B meant a three point increase, and A was four. Wepwawet noticed that her Accuracy and Evasion rose up too, but he didn’t quite understand how and why yet. Since the System failed to mention either’s increase, then their rating probably depended on other factors.
He noticed that Victoire also had access to two other classes, Vanguard and Paladin. Both knight-like, with the latter having a heavy focus on faith. He wondered what kind of background she had.
A wonderful victory jingle interrupted his thoughts, followed by a System message and a Miracle Card representing Victoire kneeling in the snow.
Quest: The Heavenly Pack I, completed! You’ve earned the Oath of Winter Ritual Miracle!
Oath of Winter
Rank 2 Ritual
Imbue a Champion’s weapons with the Frost element for five minutes. Every two additional points of mana spent lets you empower another Champion, to a maximum of six.
Excellent! Considering the magmorians appeared to be made of fire, the Raincloud Miracle and frost used together should give his soldiers an edg–
His blue screen suddenly turned red with a screeching noise.
Warning: you have exceeded your full deck’s capacity. You must discard an existing Miracle to add this one.
What? But what would happen to the discarded card?
The discarded Miracle will be lost.
Miss Athena wasn’t kidding about teaching us resource management!
Discarding his cards wasn’t truly a problem for now, since the starting deck included three copies of rather terrible Miracles, but Wepwawet would need to grow more selective over time. For now, he discarded one copy of Translation. It was a very niche Miracle meant to empower foreign missionaries, and he doubted he would need to ever cast it more than once per day.
Wepwawet switched the two Miracles. He sensed Oath of Winter’s power integrate within his essence to become part of his very divinity. As a god associated with desert lands, absorbing the card felt like eating ice cream, both strange and pleasing.
Miss Athena had warned him that he would grow to acclimate to this new world. Wepwawet wondered how long it would take for his portfolio to change when a new message swiftly replaced the last.
New Quest: The Heavenly Pack II
Recruit ten Champions.
Reward: Ritual Miracle.
So the quests followed a specific progression. Wepwawet assumed the rewards would match the increasing difficulty.
But that was a long-term problem and he had more pressing matters to deal with.
“Rise, Blade of Winter,” Wepwawet told Victoire. “With your brave heart and my power on your side, you will protect the good people of Narc from danger. You are now in charge of coordinating this place’s defenses.”
The human lowered her head in deep respect. “I shall do my best to live up to your trust.”
Aww, mortals were so cute in their modesty sometimes. Wepwawet was already growing fond of this one.
“Mistouffe, Lourson, Alpine, and Filou, I extend the same offer to you,” he informed his other would-be Champions. “The four of you possess extraordinary potential. You have been chosen!”
“Me?!” Both the wererabbit and werecat among them shouted at the same time; the first with dread and shock, the latter with giddiness.
“Good grief, I think I’m way over my head,” Alpine the weregoat said, “but I’ll do anything I can to help.”
As for the werebear, he took the news with placid acceptance. “Alright. Whatever you ask.”
“Yes, yes!” the werecat could hardly contain her excitement. “I want magic powers too!”
Only Filou the wererabbit showed any reluctance. “My lord, with all due respect, I’m… I’m not worthy of that honor…”
“And why is that?” Wepwawet asked. He had overseen enough armies on behalf of his pantheon to recognize this one as the ‘timid young recruit’ type of mortal. Those usually needed a bit of encouragement until they gained any self-confidence.
“During my first battle, I… I froze up in fear like a coward.” The poor critter lowered his head in shame. “Without milady’s help, I would have been slain where I stood.”
“And without your intervention, a magmorian would have buried his axe in my skull,” Victoire replied with a kind smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Filou. You pulled through in the end.”
The wererabbit’s reluctance amused Wepwawet. “So you have the courage to argue with a god, but not to fight for others?”
His question took the wererabbit aback. “I, ugh…” he gulped. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I swear–”
“Have faith in the god who has faith in you!” Wepwawet cut in. “Trust me, you've got this!”
Okay, it sounded way more dignified in his head, but it did give the wererabbit pause. Victoire delivered the coup de grace soon after. “I need you at my side, Filou,” she said. “Let us serve together, for Narc and everyone.”
“Y-yes, milady.” Filou cleared his throat and knelt in the snow. “It shall be an honor to serve, Lord Gr–Lord Wepwawet!”
“It’s settled, then,” Wepwawet declared. “I expect great things from you all.”
Wepwawet bathed all of them in his mana before the rest of the village. None of these four could rank up yet, unlike Victoire, but claiming them as his Champions would let him power them up with the appropriate Miracles.
Wepwawet quickly reviewed his Champions. Lourson was pretty much what Wepwawet expected from an anthropomorphic bear: a fur-tank on legs. Nonetheless, it was his blacksmith skills that would likely prove the most useful for now. Mistouffe was the complete opposite; fast, quick to dodge, and fragile. Alpine the weregoat’s knowledge of basic concoctions and healing poultices made her too valuable to risk in the field, since nobody else in Narc had any knowledge of treating wounds. Wepwawet would have preferred a magical healer, but he would play with the cards given to him.
As for the wererabbit… his incredible Late Bloomer ability would inevitably make up for his pitiful stats over time. That one had a lot of potential.
“I don’t feel any different,” Mistouffe complained. “Where’s the magic?”
You’ll need a lot more experience first, Wepwawet thought, though he had another play in mind for that one. “Then I shall bestow upon you the gifts of speed and tongues!”
Revelation Miracles allowed a god to permanently imbue a Champion with new abilities, and he had two in reserves. Wepwawet cast both of them on the werecat, his magic striking her like a lightning bolt and infusing her soul with new power.
Mistouffe has learned the Translation and Longstrider I Perks!
Translation: can understand and speak any language.
Longstrider I: grants +2 AGI.
Wepwawet noticed that Mistouffe’s Evasion had risen by one point too, which meant Agility influenced that stat… he kept that fact in mind for later.
“Whoa…” Mistouffe hopped on her feet, her new power slightly hastening her movements. “It’s true, I feel quicker now!”
“Your battles will be waged with words, not swords.” Wepwawet didn’t think she had what it took to wield those anyway. “You must share what happened here, Mistouffe, to all the settlements you can reach; our covenant, the magmorians’ treacherous attack, and the calamity to come. Invite everyone willing to see this land prosper to visit Narc. You will also keep your ears open for any useful information. I see far, but not everywhere.”
Wepwawet followed through by casting his two remaining Sacred Beast Miracles. A second and third spirit-wolf appeared next to the first, much to the mortals’ amazement.
Creatures conjured through Miracles were direct emanations of a god’s mana and thus unable to become Champions or worshipers, nor could they rank up. Otherwise, they didn’t need to eat or drink, nor did they come with an expiration date. Sacred Beasts weren’t unique creatures either, so Wepwawet could afford to summon new ones each day once the card limit renewed itself. Compared to most higher-rank Miracles, which usually focused on calling unique creatures that couldn’t be duplicated, this quantity provided a quality of its own. Having them hunt and scout on the village’s behalf would let him assign villagers to other tasks.
“One of these holy beasts shall be your protector and proof of your words,” Wepwawet said. “It will shield you from danger and assist you on your journey.”
“Awesome!” Mistouffe nodded so fast that even Wepwawet’s divine senses struggled to follow her chin. “You can count on me, wolf-boss!”
Wepwawet liked the title, so he let it pass this time. “I have many tasks for the rest of you,” he said. “The magmorians will likely return soon and you’ll need to prepare yourselves for battle. The heavens help those who help themselves, so no slackers!”
Wepwawet’s plan to develop Narc revolved around five pillars: securing long-term logistics, building fortifications and infrastructure, producing equipment, training its people, and laying the foundations of a strong economic backbone.
There was no time to waste.
And like that, Victoire found herself in charge of Narc’s defenses.
The village never had a governing structure, nor needed one due to its small population; its people simply handled matters through casual conversations and the occasional gathering. She didn’t feel entirely confident about this duty, but tried her best to look confident for the sake of everyone else.
Lord Wepwawet warned them of the magmorians’ inevitable return and distributed tasks to everyone. Some didn’t change much from people’s usual occupations, with fishermen like Laurent and old Géraud being sent to gather game, Lourson forging new equipment, and Alpine tending to their wounded and stockpiling food for emergencies.
Others were assigned new jobs like digging wells in specific spots or gathering wood under wolf escort to build more fortifications. Poor Marcel in particular had been given a grueling tunneling task in the mines. Victoire questioned the wisdom of assigning that task to a werepenguin of all people, but her new god worked in mysterious ways.
After gathering builders at the village’s entrance, Lord Wepwawet shaped a small wooden wall from nothing to replace their old makeshift fortifications. This new one was adorned with spikes whose purpose was likely to stop cavalry.
“Follow that design and dig ditches,” Lord Wepwawet ordered. “Ditches are a good defense’s backbone. Dig trenches, raise some earth on our side of the divide, then put the wall on top of that. You’ll have to build two layers.”
“Two? With spikes on top of the ditches?” Toni the mason asked. Victoire had been taught the basics of fortifications during her time among the Glarmes, but most villagers never built anything more complex than a palisade. “Sir, with all due respect, isn’t that a little excessive?”
“It’s not,” Victoire replied. “The magmorians brought a wyrm last time and it smashed through barricades like a ram. By digging ditches in front of the new walls and raising up the latter, the magmorians will have to fill the trenches up first to reach the walls at all; a time during which they’ll be exposed to our spears and arrows.”
Victoire sensed her god’s inquisitive gaze on her. “Quite astute, Victoire. Where did you learn such things?”
He didn’t know? So even gods weren’t all-seeing. “I once served in a military order called the Glarmes, my lord,” she replied. “I learned how to hold a fort during that time.”
“You were taught well,” Lord Wepwawet complimented her before turning his gaze back to Toni. “Do you wish for these magmorians to cut their way through your home like a knife through butter, mortal?”
“Ugh…” Toni cleared his throat in embarrassment. “No, sir, ‘course not. It’s just that my house was burned during the attack, so…”
“There will be time to rebuild it after we ensure it’ll never be burned again,” Lord Wepwawet replied sternly. “Until then, I ask that you put your community first.”
“I’ll arrange for Alpine to host you until we can repair your house,” Victoire promised the mason. “You have my word.”
With the matter settled, one of Lord Wepwawet’s wolves soon traced a line in the earth with his paw as per its god’s instructions to show the fortifications' layout. Any enemy trying to invade such a place would bleed for every inch of progress.
Finally, the task of training everyone for battle fell to Victoire. She requested at least two hours of a day’s worth of drilling for each villager capable of wielding a weapon, which her new god consented to.
“I leave it to you to organize everybody’s schedule and watch duties,” Lord Wepwawet told her. “I can see far and wide, but chance favors the prepared mind!”
Odd. Victoire could have sworn that the last part sounded like the quote of another rather than the god’s own words.
“As you wish, Lord Wepwawet,” she said without raising the issue. “May I suggest we focus our efforts on spears and bows? Lourson will have an easier time forging arrowheads and spearheads, and the magmorians raiders also appeared to favor melee combat. Exploiting the terrain would let us strike them from a safe distance.”
“I see you have a tactician’s instincts, Victoire,” the deity complimented her. “I agree. Both these weapons lend themselves well to hunting too, so we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
Something bothered her about Lord Wepwawet. He was truly powerful and undoubtedly talented, but he sounded less confident than Victoire would expect from an ancient deity. Like he had to prove himself somehow.
Maybe she was simply imagining things. She doubted a mortal like her could ever fully understand an entity capable of creating life from nothing.
With her new task at hand, Victoire moved to say goodbye to Mistouffe. The werecat was busy being embraced into her mother’s tight hug while her father and wolf companion watched.
“Mom… you’re choking me…” Mistouffe complained. Victoire noticed that she carried a travel bag that looked almost too big for her. “Please let me go…”
“Oh darling…” Her poor mother reluctantly released her hold on her daughter. “I know this task came from Grand-Loup himself, but I can’t help but worry for you…”
“She already accompanied me on many trips across the snowlands,” her husband reassured her. “She knows the wilderness like the back of her paw.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Mistouffe insisted with a wide smirk. “I was gonna go leave to become an itinerant merchant one day anyway, and I’ve got a god on my side now!”
Her mother let out a sigh. “Alright, but swear to me that you’ll be careful.”
“I swear on all my paws!” Mistouffe giddily replied. “Thanks, Ma. Thanks, Pa.”
“Your daughter will achieve wonders one day,” Victoire said upon joining the conversation. “I have an additional task for you, Mistouffe, if you feel up to it.”
“Of course, Vicky!” she replied without hesitation. The nickname brought a chuckle from Victoire. “What do you have in mind?”
“Have you visited the trading post near the Boisblanc forest?” Victoire asked, earning herself a nod of assent. “A human by the name of Kale regularly visits it for supplies. I would like you to deliver him a letter if you find him there.”
“Sure, it’s on my itinerary.” Mistouffe gave her an inquisitive look. “Is he a member of the Glarmes?”
“Yes. I’ve… departed the order under less than ideal circumstances, but Lord-Commander Raymond might be persuaded to send us help to fend off the magmorians.” Especially if some of my suspicions about him are correct. “It costs us nothing to contact them.”
She could only pray someone would listen before the magmorians returned.
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