SSD 5.08 - Monstrous Ambitions

This chapter ran away with me a bit, but in the best way. So a bit longer than my usual offerings at ~3800 words. Enjoy your schedule chapter.

“None of the wealthy and powerful that have come to me for answers have ever been happy when they talk to me about fate. I punctured their self-importance with the cold nature of reality. They have power because chance aligned to grant it to them, very few have truly earned anything, and even they don’t like being reminded how much chance it took.

“You want to impress me? Manage to stay humble in spite of your success, correctly attributing it to the vagaries of the universe. Then I will be impressed.”

-“The Weigher of Scales,” seer, though more commonly known as “The Scathing Eye.”

==Caden==

My hand, lost in waves of fur, pressed back against the slogi as it leaned into the scratches and rubs, making a faintly rumbling sound of satisfaction.

Wonder if it likes that my hand is cold?

The way in which my body emulated a true human varied in its degree of verisimilitude. I could change the temperature of my body without difficulty, raising it to match the human standard, but that was through the expression of my other powers, not something that the avatar did on its own. For now, I hadn’t bothered. Probably better for me to be obviously stone, anyway.

However, when I touched things, walked, and so on, the stone of my body gave way, compressing and shifting as though it were still made of flesh. I could run my hands through my hair, and the stone strands would shift just like normal. If touched by another, they felt the texture of stone and the suppleness of flesh, at least up to a point. After that, my body was as unyielding as the materials it was made from.

For a brief moment I considered what it would be like if there weren’t limits either way.

Probably for the best not be as unyielding as stone or stretchy as rubber.

Regardless of all other considerations, the slogi had the a majority of my attention. Unless I wanted to make regular trips out here to snuggle, not the worst idea, it would take time before I could properly experience this kind of snuggling. Even if I made my own copies, which I could, the patterns already offered by someone, they wouldn’t be the same. That had proven to be the case when I recreated animals from the various meats the adventurers offered. Those animals were domesticated, and showed signs of that in their morphology, showing breeding towards larger muscle mass and a greater level of docility than expected of a wild animal.

Still, being more docile than a normal animal was not the same, at all, as an animal that was raised by humans from birth. They were slightly less aggressive than I would expect them to be, but the various animals I created were not docile and were not afraid to express their displeasure. And, if the creation of my new, stronger, body had been inspired by some cracked and broken limbs when I recreated some kind of reptilian cow analog, I certainly wasn’t planning to tell anyone.

At least my new body proved up to handling that kind of stress test… just a few chips.

Even recreations of dogs and cats produced feral animals, consistent with what you would expect to see from one raised in the wild. I could alter their behavior, to some extent, with my dungeon controls, but it was obvious that control existed and things did not feel organic. I could certainly charm a wild animal with food, but that option would take time and likely never fully shed a good portion of their wild nature.

Not that I don’t have options.

With my ability to create animals at any life stage, the ability to generate whatever they might need for food, and the ability to offer any animal companions effective immortality, I had long term plans in that direction. It was simply a project that I needed to ensure I had the time to oversee. And slogi were absolutely going to end up part of that.

The fluffy crown jewel of my collection.

Unless I find something more fluffy, cuddly, and adorable… not sure I could handle that level of stimulation.

Apparently echoing my thoughts, the other members of the cuddle pile had begun to stir, three heads rising out of the white bundle of tangled limbs, each yawning before opening their eyes in lazy blinks. They fixated on the one receiving attention, questioning mews rumbling out, each trying to get closer for their own attention. My two hands reached out, each working to scratch one of the heads, even as the first slogi headbutted me in the chest, disappointed that the attention had shifted away.

Can solve that.

One of my shards dropped their work on organizing the tangled mess that had emerged from my various testing environments, grabbed a body from storage, and merged with it right next to me. Soon, each of us were scratching a head with each hand.

Being able to operate more than one body at a time had been a pleasant change. I wasn’t absolutely sure if that was due to my new ability to use my senses anywhere in my aura as though I was actually present, or if the long dive into my soul had enhanced my capacity in some fashion. Regardless, I could currently produce and occupy as many bodies as I had shards.

Someday, when everything finally calms down, and I have my own enormous menagerie of pets, I am going to have every single shard cuddling all at once.

I lingered on the pleasant thought, coming more fully back to the moment as Brosta led a visibly nervous stable master into the building. Not that I couldn’t detect nervousness in another fashion as well. Faint beads of perspiration were pushing through his skin just starting to make his palms sweat, and his heartbeat was elevated, making a staccato rhythm that pulsed through his entire body in waves of pressure.

Probably a bit invasive.

Whatever nervousness he might have possessed was apparently short circuited by the sight of two of me, each working to the keep all four of the slogi happy, as he stopped and stared. Brosta was handling it slightly better, though a faint smile of amusement had managed to escape whatever level of control she had been exercising.

Without turning around, I spoke.

“Welcome back Brosta, I presume that is the stable master?”

“Uh, yes, Lord Caden,” she said, breaking out of her stillness, “this is Masteoa.”

Masteoa, either uncertain of what to do, or still in a state of shock, remained silent until she poked him gently.

“Oh, um, uh, yes,” he finally managed, before hastily blurting out “Lord Caden.” After he continued in a more normal voice, though obviously still nervous. “I’m overseeing the stables here. Don’t know about calling me a stable master, just overseeing things, for now. The guild will have someone else take over, eventually.”

Masteoa looked at where both of me were scratching the slogi, a vague longing in his eyes.

Stone rose from the ground as I turned away from the two slogi, it formed into two hands as the other shard present took over ensuring they would get scratches too, even if the feedback from the solid stone wouldn’t feel quite right.

Sacrifices have to be made.

Masteoa was a short man, perhaps five feet tall, though he was broad shouldered. His skin was slightly darker than I had gotten used to seeing here, and his hair was a rich dark brown, glinting faintly with a luster only barely present in the speckled light. He was muscular, but in the way I had grown used to seeing in adventurers, the functional muscle displayed by those who worked for a living, compact like a gymnast or swimmer, though with more fat layered over top then either of those typically displayed. Faint scars intersected across his arms, with a few stray ones scattered across his face. He was dressed in thick leather, the leather well cared for, though it too bore signs of abuse where deep scratches had gouged into it, then been dulled with oil and care over long stretches of time, fading even like his own scars.

Guessing this profession loses some people in training… either to maiming, death, or running the hell away.

I reached out my hand, beckoning for him to come closer.

“No need to be afraid. Did you want to come and pet the slogi?”

He flushed, ducking his head down.

“Yes sir, I mean…Lord Caden,” he said, looking terrified as he fixed his mistake, and looking relieved as I waved it away.

Ugh, I’m going to hate that so much. Maybe I should have just let them call me sir and been done with it.

“Brosta said they are usually sleeping.”

“Yes, s- uh, Lord Caden. This time of year, anyway. They’ll get more energetic as thaw starts to end, and things get much warmer.”

He came closer, taking over as one of the hands withdrew, letting him rub the slogi, though he stumbled back slightly as it headbutt his chest, not having my advantages.

Sometimes weighing a literal ton can be good. I’m just big boned… I swear. More like dense boned, and muscled, and everything else…

A smile broke out over Masteoa’s face as he continued.

“They wouldn’t have sent me, if they were fully awake; I’m not leveled enough to properly handle them, if anything goes wrong. Haven’t had many chances to really handle them like this, that is for someone more experience, more leveled. Just supposed to be here to feed them if they get hungry, then let them go back to sleep. There will be another, full, stable master here within a few weeks.”

There was a last, muttered, comment that I probably wasn’t supposed to hear, said not even so much under his breath as never even fully leaving his mouth, retrained to what ought to be a sub-vocalization. “Not that I’m ever likely to get leveled enough.”

“Do you mind if I ask about that?” I said.

“About their normal handlers, Lord Caden, or the stable master that is coming?” he said.

“You don’t need to repeat my title all the time,” I said. “And no, about your level, how that increases, and such.”

Masteoa went pale, all the blood leaving his face to rush through his veins in a thundering cascade, his heart racing and his breath gaining a faint ragged edge. He trembled slightly as be spoke to me, his eyes cast toward the floor.

“Forgive my error. I am content with my place. My level is suitable for my birth, my role.”

Culture clash here somewhere.

“I do not believe there is anything to forgive, nor any offense taken,” I said, before turning my head toward Brosta, where she had been waiting and watching. “Brosta, come over here please.”

She hurried over, glancing at Masteoa for a moment, before stopping only a few feet away. She looked slightly puzzled, glancing at him cowering while on his feet.

She didn’t hear what he said under his breath.

The slogi was displeased with the interruption, mewling in indignation, though it subsided when my other shard moved the hand back to scratch it. Still, the slogi looked slightly troubled, glancing back at the man occasionally.

“I think I am missing some context,” I said. “If someone were to complain about being unlikely to level enough, would that you help explain things?”

“Di- did you read his thoughts,” she asked, her eyes wide.

I smiled and shook my head. “No, he just spoke very softly…” I said. “I doubt most people, even with very good senses would have heard it.” I gestured around us, “Here, I am everything, so little can be hidden.”

Brosta shook herself out of her stupor.

“Of course, you had said…” she glanced over to where my other shard occupied a completely identical body, “I suppose I hadn’t really understood.

“I’m guessing he has worked with nobles before…, and some of the high level adventurers. Some of them,” she sighed,” okay, many of them, can be very particular, overly focused on where people belong.”

Masteoa had managed to overcome at least some of his personal fear to stare in horror at her, his eyes wide, and his head shaking slightly from side to side as though he was trying to tell her to stop.

I let out a chuckle, before I signed along with her.

“That sounds about right, sadly. Not much changes human nature. Give people a little power and privilege, and they will convince themselves that they have earned it, deserve it.” I thought back to some of the wealthy kids I had gone to school with… “Those born with it are often the worst, striking others down, working to justify their fragile egos and convince themselves they have no vast gulfs of insecurity deep within. They tend to get better if they actually manage to accomplish something noteworthy.”

Masteoa’s horror had shifted to confusion and now he was staring at me with his jaw slack, mouth open.

“And,” I continued, “regarding those adventurers… some of those who have started from nothing can use that as a cudgel against others. If they managed to advance so far, then it is obviously because they are superior as an individual.”

I shook my head.

“Such perspectives neglect to account for all the people who didn’t have their advantages, talents, opportunities, and, most of all, luck. Put a thousand people with equal talent in a contest and one will still emerge victorious, simply because of random chance. People just cannot see all the places they would have failed, where anyone in their position would have failed, without luck working in their favor. Opportunities and resources reduce the amount of luck needed to succeed, so it is no wonder that the powerful manage to raise up more children who share their power. They will claim superior bloodlines, or such drivel…”

Okay, there might also be actual magical advantages passed on to children here. Real magical bloodlines. Still… that is just another advantage given to them, inherited.

“Besides,” I said, smiling, “every family line started out as poor laborers or the equivalent somewhere in the past.”

Even Brosta was looking at me with a certain degree of astonishment, while the stable master looked like he might pass out at any moment.

“I really want to see you meet a noble,” she finally said, her voice soft but also holding a faint amusement.

Masteoa snorted, then covered his mouth, regaining a touch of his horror, before looking at me again and slowly standing up straight.

“I’ll let the Adar handle that for the moment,” I said, smiling at her.

Best to wait until I am completely sure that I won’t be in danger if I offend them.

“You don’t need to fear me over a desire to grow and improve,” I said to him, directly. “I am a dungeon, we are made for such. We exist to let you change your place, to grow beyond it.”

Or at least that is position I am taking. I’m kind of an out of context problem already, best to just ascribe my opinions to being a dungeon. Easy enough to justify that everyone should be treated the same, since a dungeon regards and tests them all the same. It’ll let the nobles just dismiss my beliefs as being alien, though the smarter among them will know my attitudes are dangerous.

Eh, better to be me, even if I have to be careful for a little while.

“Okay,” Brosta muttered, “now there are some priests I really want you to meet too…”

I thought occurred to me…

Planning to build a city anyway.

“T-thank you, Lord Caden,” Masteoa managed.

“Now, I do actually want an answer to my question,” I said. “As a dungeon… I level differently than you, and I know people can level differently as well.” At least I assume so, since people seem to level without having to kill things… probably. “So, how do you level your class?”

Masteoa seemed a bit lost for words again, so Brosta stepped in to help, addressing me, though not before gently squeezing Masteoa’s arm.

“Using the class, whatever it is,” she said, “as a general rule. The more challenge and variety, the faster the class grows. For example, as a merchant, if all I did was run a shop, then I would level up more quickly as I gained responsibility for different aspects. For example, at first I merely watched and cleaned the shop, with my father teaching me between customers. Then I started helping customers by answering questions, then I was responsible for haggling with some of the lesser purchases, and then after that I was trained to handle larger purchases and negotiate with suppliers.

“This is the best way to raise both levels and progress to more advanced classes. I was in each position over time, switching to a new one as my growth started to stagnate. Now, with my brother and I acting as traveling merchants, we can continue to raise our levels because of the dangers, doing larger deals, and going to new places. We will end up out leveling almost everyone that doesn’t have money or power, or is a dedicated adventurer.”

Masteoa was nodding along by this point, seeming to have recovered, though there were faint trembles that ran through his limbs occasionally.

Adrenaline crash? Wonder if I could heal that and reset his body chemistry to normal? Not important now.

I nodded as well, before turning to Masteoa.

“So, based on that,” I said, “if you don’t have opportunities, you stagnate. So, if someone doesn’t want you to progress… all they have to do is not let you have the chance.”

Like working an office job where making your boss not like you means you are stuck in that job forever, and cannot even get the skills you need to switch to a better one. Sounds like hell to me. The level of ass kissing here must be truly prodigious.

Fuck, here an internship “for experience” is an actual thing. They could make the interns pay to get the opportunity. Well, obviously this world it doomed, needs to be razed to the ground and started over again from scratch…

Of course, even with The System, humans have figured out how to be assholes and enforce a caste system. Not sure if this is because of, or in spite of, The System’s need for conflict… probably has aspects of both.

Not like this is really any worse than much of Earth’s history, and certainly better than many places and times.

He nodded to me, glumly. “Yes. My parents, they don’t have any influence. They cannot get me any chances for the other roles. I might be able to…” he looked at me sideways for a moment, obviously hesitating, “bribe someone, eventually, to get me somewhere that I can grow.”

I simply nodded, to his visible relief.

Oh no, systemic corruption, nepotism, and favoritism, I shocked… Truly… Shocked I tell you.

“So, what made you get into doing this?” I asked. “Was it just because it was a job?”

Masteoa smiled brightly, glancing from me toward the slogi, showing the most true expression of joy I had seen from him. “No,” he said, “I’ve always loved animals. All the different ways they live and the many types…” There was another moment of hesitation, where he looked at Brosta, then me again, muscles in his face firming as he grew more certain in his choice. “I’ve even studied some of the wilderness animals, as much as I could, wanted to work with them…”

Brosta’s eyes went slightly wide, blinking.

Not a normal interest then.

“Trappers bring them in, as well as true monsters, for menageries, or for people to buy so their children can kill them under controlled conditions, that kind of thing. They show them off, for a price, scaring the crowds. I’ve gone to see them when I could… I tried to do some work there, but I wasn’t skilled enough for them to even consider me…”

A suspicion started to grow…

“So, I know there other stables here, but I didn’t see any more of them with slogi in my aura, are these the only ones?”

Masteoa blinked for a moment at my apparent change of subject, but answered anyway.

“No, there is a larger stable with a few dozen them, part of the local guildmaster’s entourage. He keeps a private stable of them.” Obviously a man of taste. They were actually moved after some snow shifted onto the largest stable next to the entrance mountain. The building was damaged, so they reinforced it, but that meant it wasn’t suitable for the slogi anymore, not enough air flowing through, so they took over another stable farther from the entrance.”

I could feel what he was talking about, now that I was looking for it. The largest stable was less than fifty feet from the dungeon’s entrance, and I could feel tiny fractures running through the frame of the building, though additional supports had been added.

That… might be my fault. Pretty sure that luck boost I got is already messing with me.

If that stable had still been full of slogi…

I would have gone there, and then I would never have met someone who truly loved animals, even dangerous ones, potentially even monsters, who also seemed to be dissatisfied with his current position…

Yeah, definitely some luck there. Wouldn’t have taken much to start a small avalanche with all the layered snow, and the water seeping into it… but an avalanche at just the right location… that was less likely.

Absently, I fixed the fractures in the reinforced stable. If it had been in service to my luck then I would bear some responsibility.

I didn’t have time to raise up the animals I wanted to cuddle at the moment, and I would want to have plenty of time to get involved with that process, but I absolutely could use someone who knew more about animals. Classes could evolve, so with a little work, I could help make him into someone that would be very useful to me. I could probably find the same among the Adar, but they both made me uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure how they would react if I started changing how they were bonded to me.

Of course, there is a large assumption here…

“Masteoa, feel free to refuse, but how would you like a new job?”