Chapter 107: Indulgence

  As it turned out, that first interaction set the tone for the remainder of the temples.

  [Access denied.

  Required Class: Mage, Warlock, Sorcerer]

  Some of them made sense, like the temple of Nebet, the goddess of magic requiring an associated Class to enter.

  [What is my name?]

  Others were rather more obscure, of particular note being the shrine dedicated to the god of mystery, which was little more than a door protruding out of the ground, denying entry to all except for those who could name him. Whilst it might seem strange at first glance, that a god might reject potential converts to his cause, this was in effect a method of filtering out the laymen, while permitting entry only to those who had some degree of initiation in his faith. A focus on quality over quantity, a preference for serious business while dispensing with the retail side of worship; there were pros and cons to this approach, but I couldn’t help admitting that it fit the theme.

  [Entry Fee: 5000 Gilt]

  Then there were the ones verging on the ridiculous. My first thought upon seeing that notification was that I’d stumbled upon the God of Wealth, but no, apparently anyone with a sufficient following could petition the local authorities for a temple. I had no idea what the Worshipful Fellows of Divine Livery represented, beyond conspicuous consumption, which suited me just fine, because I wasn’t going to touch that mess with a ten foot pole. Altogether, I managed to do a full revolution of the rotunda without finding a single temple I could actually enter, and not for lack of trying either. Notably, even those which would ordinarily admit Soldiers or Merchants refused me entry, indicating that as powerful as it was, Masquerade couldn’t quite fool the divine. Useful to know, and a vindication of my decision to seek religion by myself, as this revelation might otherwise have led to some awkward questions, so that was fortunate.

  On a less fortunate note, the crowd was still going strong at the temple of the System; really, I had to wonder why they didn’t spring for some more real estate, given the amount of traffic I could see. Sure, there was something to be said for exclusivity, but past a certain point it was simply counterproductive. Instead of joining the throng and risking death by trampling, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and went to find some lunch. Admittedly, I had plenty of provisions stored away, but after a long journal on such simple fare, I wasn’t going to pass up a proper meal when the circumstances allowed it; the sailors of yore might have subsisted for months on salt pork and hardtack, but I had a rather more refined palate, thank you very much.

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  Circling back to the eateries I saw on the way in, I found one with a moderate queue; the best kind of queue, short enough to be worth the wait while long enough to be reasonably sure I wasn’t about to die of dysentery.

  Their menu was spelled out on an overhead blackboard; simple and hearty fare of shepherd’s pie and ale, a staple offering in a hilly region that offered little comfort for more traditional livestock. Three Gilt was a bit steep for what was on offer, a sign that the ‘London tax’ was alive and well in cities even a world away, but I was willing to pay for the convenience; after all, I had plenty of Valkyrie Dust in my inventory to begin making up the deficit in the near future. I never got the chance to hand my hard-earned coin away however, because in an amusing twist of fate, someone tried to pick my pocket. It wasn’t a bad attempt in all honesty; the would-be thief struck during a moment where passersby crowded around the line and stall alike, attempting to disguise their intentions with a bump on the shoulder. Unfortunately for him, I was a veteran of the London Underground (the public transport and the society alike), and had plenty of experience in detecting such attempts on my wealth.

  [1 Gild withdrawn.]

  I let him take one coin, pulling it out of my inventory for that express purpose, because the name of the game for both of us was avoiding attention. Better that he think I was careless than to make people wonder how I was going to pay for my meal, as I had no intention of revealing my storage capabilities. That’s not to say I was going to let him off scot free, as I quickly left the queue to shadow the thief. He was taller than me, something I’d ordinarily be annoyed by but in this case was to his detriment; a shorter fellow might have escaped me by ducking into the crowd, but that wasn’t an option for him, so the chase was on.

  There was an art to stalking, something I’d rarely had to put into practice. Much like a game of red light, green light, the goal was to move when the target wasn’t looking; when he looked my way, I played the part of the gawking tourist, pointing at random landmarks or petting Pumpkin on my shoulder, only to resume the chase as soon as his back was turned. Just once, he swung back faster than before, but I was prepared for him; he caught me picking my nose and turned away with a grimace. Just as planned. It was a tense few minutes, but eventually I managed to lull him into a false sense of security, and he stopped being quite so careful as he ducked away into an alleyway.

  My Blackened Bracelet came on, followed by Silent Night to disguise my movements, and into the breach I went. Helpfully, the pickpocket had stopped not far away to count his loot; I could’ve put a knife in his back with ease, but I refrained just this once. A dead man told no tales after all; I was a Soldier of Fortune, not a Necromancer.

  Instead, I crept up on him, and made a fist.