Silks were sold and furs were purchased. Fine saddles and military bridles were traded for simpler ones. The horse that Windstopper rode was eventually exchanged for an oxcart, when we realized that there was no way he could successfully sit a saddle for the duration of the journey to Iron Tower.

  While River and Brass Bell were still in the front room of a weaver’s shop negotiating the sale of the more valuable things they were able to grab on their way out of their respectively ruined homes, Windstopper and I were dressing in rough-spun traveler's garb in the back.

  I had been expecting some sort of ‘achievement’ for all the events following the flight from the Imperial palace and it was almost a relief when I went to put on the hempen cloak, and heard a crinkle.

  I looked over to Windstopper who still fought valiantly to don the many layers of winter peasant’s garb, but I shrugged to myself. He was my bodyguard. I shared everything I had with him. What did I care if he knew about these strange missives that seemed to come from nowhere?

  I sifted through the cheap, drafty garment to pull out the now familiar bundle of parchment and paper scraps.

  ***WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT!***

  TITLE: JUST A LITTLE BIT OF FIRE

  DESCRIPTION: You’ve razed an area less than one square li. Are you just really bad at arson or do you actually know what you’re doing when it comes to burning very specific things to the ground?

  VIRTUE: -10

  Right. That one was fair. Even though it had been a calculated risk on my part, in a city full of closely packed houses, once a fire got started it could be damned hard to stop.

  I looked up at the sound of heavy breathing. Windstopper had finished dressing and was standing before me. He never pried, but I could tell that he was curious about the note I had pulled from my cloak, perhaps because of the emotions that must have been flitting across my face as I read it.

  Following his gaze to the back of the slip of parchment, I formed a thought.

  “Windstopper can you read this?” I stepped over to him and watched the page very carefully as I slowly angled the writing toward him. I glanced up to make sure I had his attention and when I glanced back down the page was blank.

  Windstopper scratched the top of his head. “I Know My Letters, Sparrow. But I Cannot Read Nothing. What Does It Say.”

  Ah, so one more question answered. If these ‘achievements’ were written and sent by virtue of a Mandate, the text wouldn’t just disappear when I was done with it; it would disappear if anyone aside from its intended audience tried to read it. I raised my eyebrows at that. What a strange Mandate to have, making text appear and disappear. Strange… but, coupled with a clever mind, very useful. What I still hadn’t figured out was if the same Mandate was making the paper itself appear and disappear or if it would have taken a co-conspirator with a different – but complementary – power.

  Windstopper was still breathing heavily beside me and I had forgotten that he had asked me a question.

  “Oh, sorry. There were letters on it. It said that the fire I had started back at River’s mansion hadn’t spread very far and that no one was hurt.”

  “Oh. That Is Good.”

  “Not quite good, but… close enough.”

  The ‘achievement’ had said that in so many words, hadn’t it? Surely if I had killed everyone in the City of Lanterns, or a whole block of wealthy families, or even just the occupants of the neighboring mansion, there would have been a much greater impact to my VIRTUE. Minus ten sounded like I had been reckless but no one had died.

  For the first time I was grateful for these achievements and the near-omniscience they hinted at.

  There were two more achievements, for +10 VIRTUE apiece.

  “This one says you did a very good job picking up that boulder and trapping the wolves in Brass Bell’s house before we got into a fight. And this one says I did a good job talking my way out of a life-or-death situation. The person who sent them seems to like when we find clever ways to diffuse a situation rather than fighting all the time.”

  “Do You Know Who Sends Them.”

  “No. No I don’t. But I’d like to find out one day. Once we’re all safely away from the capital and beyond Dreadwolf’s reach, that is.”

  I was just musing on the fact that there might not be a place in the Land Under Heaven beyond the reach of the wolf, when the air before me began to shimmer.

  I reached for a sword that wasn’t there, then relaxed as I slowly figured out what was happening.

  I knew – or at least surmised – that this achievement system was the result of a Mandate – there was no other way it could exist to the extent that it did – but watching threads of silk appear out of nothing but shimming air, weave themselves into whole-clothe as if by invisible hands, and then bundle themselves around something roughly the size and shape of the cornerstone Windstopper had picked up, I had to believe that there was so much more to this system than just one or two ministers with Mandates messing with me.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The light died down and the floating bundle of silks thunked to the ground, rattling slightly as it rolled to come to rest against my knees. I stood there dumbfounded, knowing what this was… but still not really believing that something so big had just… appeared.

  And I still didn’t really believe I was worthy of any of it. Not the attention. Not the rewards.

  The last time I had earned an achievement that came with a ‘reward’ I had performed perhaps the most selfless act of my life, sticking my neck out before all the warlords to save a boy without really knowing how it could possibly benefit me – and it had saved a member of the Imperial household no less.

  I hadn’t exactly been thinking of honor or virtue or duty or justice, at the time but it had resulted in something very… well, good, to use Windstopper’s word. There were many words to describe the act of saving a boy’s life but the simplest one fit best. And if I had surmised anything else about this system of virtue and rewards, it was that thoughts or words or vows meant nothing.

  Deeds and the impact of those deeds were what counted.

  I had sworn to bring the Demon to justice for what he had done in the Gray Dowager’s estate, but what I had actually done was nothing, merely watching him kill innocents despite feeling all the proper remorse about it.

  But now, what had I done other than run and survive and fail at killing Dreadwolf?

  I looked to Windstopper, who seemed unphased by the manifestation, simply excited at what was obviously a gift, packaged up and ready to be opened. I would have let him open it but I didn’t want to risk losing the words of the achievement before I had a chance to read and understand them.

  I hesitantly – even reverently – bent to the bundle and began untying the silks.

  Even before I finished unwrapping it, I could tell that I had been awarded something of immense value. The slanting light of the weaver’s back-room rebounded off gold and silver inlay, over plate of thick bronze. But I had enough restraint to flatten out the silk and look at the ‘achievement’ before focusing on the reward that came with it.

  ***WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT!***

  TITLE: ACTUALLY VIRTUOUS

  DESCRIPTION: You’ve accrued more than 100 total VIRTUE. Good job. You’re actually a good person. But virtue is a consistent choice and those who rise have further to fall.

  REWARD: The Scorched Breastplate of Elai

  Ok, so this answers some of my lingering questions about the accruing of VIRTUE. Yes, it's being tallied. Doing the math… Yes, I must have also been impacted by the very first ‘achievements’ I had received, even when I hadn’t been able to see the pluses and minuses. And lastly, yes, it must have been relatively rare to actually be a good warlord rising in the ranks, because if it weren’t for one key act of altruism I felt as if I would still be hovering between about negative ten and positive twenty VIRTUE.

  Morally gray was probably where just about everyone in the Land Under Heaven hung, at least among those in power. And that's if this mysterious system of VIRTUE kept track of more than just me. I had to assume it did – I’m nothing special – but did not know the criteria on who it chose to follow around or how. I really needed to get back to Iron Tower and ask Swaying Willow. Or, barring that, my father.

  Curiosity for the moment satisfied, or at least quelled, I stepped back as the writing on the massive bolt of silk flashed away. It would fetch a nice price, but it wasn’t the real prize. I turned to where Windstopper was already marveling at the reward, but afraid to touch it in case it got him in trouble.

  It was a breastplate, but I could have fit my entire body inside it, balled up like a child in a womb. Even if it was meant as a reward for my supposed virtue, it belonged on Windstopper.

  “Go on,” I said. “I think it’s for you.”

  Windstopper turned his eyes to me with so much hope and wonder, it was as if he almost couldn’t believe he could own such an incredible piece of armor.

  “Truly.” He never really changed his tone enough to make it a question but I responded just the same.

  “Truly,” I said with a smile.

  As Windstopper disrobed again I found an old Imperial ‘card’ sitting where the armor had first appeared… And I mean very old – even older than the card I had gotten for the now-lost Son-of-Heaven sword, and that had been from the Great Ancestor’s time over four hundred years ago. This archaic version of a card looked to be about twice as old as anything I’d seen – basically a piece of clay crumbling to dust in my hand. I wouldn't have been able to read anything on it had the letters not been glowing with benevolent blue.

  THE SCORCHED BREASTPLATE OF ELAI

  TYPE: Body Armor

  ARMOR RANK: 3rd

  LORE: Worn by the mighty Elai, bodyguard to the last king of Shang, Elai was known for his great physical strength and loyalty. When the kingdom collapsed due to mismanagement and corruption, and enemies stormed the palace, the king of Shang immolated himself. Still Elai refused to leave his master, and died in the blaze.

  LAST KNOWN OWNER: Elai of Shang

  Inspecting it further, I could indeed see that much of the gold and silver-work was partially melted away, the bronze scorched, and there were more than a few dents from past projectiles. In one or two places the plate had been punctured and there were holes in the buffalo hide beneath.

  Actually… Examining the interior lining, it was too thick and the wrong color for buffalo. Rhinoceros perhaps?

  In any case, it would have taken a mighty blow to puncture both bronze and hide, and yet the card said that its wearer had died due to his master’s actions, not one from an enemy or would-be assassin. Reading the card over before the shining words faded, whoever this Elai was, he had suffered greatly in defense of his king and they had both met a terrible fate in the end, despite the late wearer’s supposedly prodigious strength.

  Even if the ‘reward’ itself was not a fit for me, the lesson it represented, of course, may as well have been tailored by the palace attendants. My actions, my virtue, my failed plots and my successful ones no longer determined my own fate. They spelled life or death for everyone I cared about… everyone who was bonded to me… and likely more than a few innocents besides.

  For me, this was a sobering reminder. But for someone else, this was just a shiny new outfit. The shiniest in fact.

  Wearing nothing but the breastplate and his roughspun peasant’s pants, Windstopper was beaming.

  “I Look Like A Lord Again.”

  I myself couldn’t help but smile along with him as I tightened the straps for him.

  “You look like the second coming of Elai.”

  “What is taking you boys so long!” River shouted from the front room.

  “Coming!” I shouted back.

  Together, Winstopper and I hurriedly disguised the breastplate beneath the layers of his oversized tunic and cloak, but still he couldn’t help himself from looking down his shirt and smiling.

  “Who Is Elai.” Windstopper eventually asked once we were ready to get back on the road.

  “A great hero,” I replied. “And a good one.”