The Giving of Gifts

    Mog poked Sean in the chest with her wand, “The geas Mig mentioned is also the first boon. So long as your kingdom and its people prosper, you will never age, nor be afflicted with natural illness. You shall know the tongues of your land and those of its neighbors. Your body may suffer injury, but given enough time and rest you will revert to your current state of perfect health.” She chuckled, “And, because we are such benevolent goddesses, we will even give you six months to actually found your kingdom before you suffer any ill-effects from underachieving.”

    “After that grace period is up, however,” Mig followed, “if you haven’t found some measure of success beyond cowing a few scattered hamlets you will sicken and die. So please be sure to make an effort.”

    Mag held up two fingers, “Your future citizens will fall into two categories - sworn and unsworn. The unsworn, the people of leaderless villages and towns, will recognize you immediately as their rightful king. The sworn, on the other hand, have already chosen their rulers and won’t recognize your claim until you either force their leader to submit, or prove yourself superior in some other way.”

    Sean nodded, rubbing the bruise he was sure Mog had just left. “I’ll do my best, I promise. I’ve no intention of dying a second time so soon. What about the second boon you mentioned?”

    “That, in part, comes from you,” Mog said.

    Light began to stream from Sean to the goddesses, a flow of golden motes like the diagram that originated from the center of his chest. Each coalesced as an object held by one of the sisters before the flow subsided.

    In Mag’s calloused hands, it formed itself into a spear. The weapon was wickedly barbed and razor sharp, its haft bound in crimson leather.

    “My boon is the Red Promise,” she said, “and the prowess to wield it like a true warrior. A single strike from this spear will slay any who cross you, be they man or monster. You will be able to unite Aiane as a conqueror, bring the various warlords to heel through irresistible force.

    Mog held out a book, opening it to Sean. Inside he could see a myriad of runes and sigils, each rendered with meticulous precision.”

    “My boon is the Forgotten Codex,” she said, “and the knowledge to understand both its pages and the grand designs of the world’s most powerful magics. You will be able to unite Aiane as a teacher, an enlightened ruler who’s power puts him beyond the petty squabbles of lesser men.”

    Finally, Mig offered him a necklace. It was clear to Sean that it was of lesser craftsmanship than her sister’s gifts. The links of its strand were nicked and tarnished, their copper green from age. The pendant was a simple runic design resembling a raven in flight.

    “My boon is the Sovereign’s Chain,” she said, “for a king both binds and is bound by his kingdom. It is no grand infusion of power like my sisters offer, but its strength will grow beyond them as your people prosper. Likewise, I do not offer you knowledge or skill, for I believe a ruler’s strength must be earned. Instead I will grant you an advisor who has walked your path before, to guide you away from your worst missteps. You will be able to unite Aiane as a father, guiding your people to a better future and reaping the rewards of your care.”

    Sean looked between the three items and their bearers, “So, I can only pick one of these to take with me?”

    Mig nodded, “Only one.”

    Sean considered his choice. He’d played more than enough games to know the benefits of a one-shot kill weapon. If he didn’t have to learn about how to use the weapon, it would be extremely powerful. No need to worry about dragons torching your castle when you could hurl death in their direction. Even a god killing spear wasn’t much use in a friendly negotiation, or during a flood though. It was like having the ultimate hammer; it could pound any nail in one swing, but you still couldn't build a whole house with it.

    Magic, on the other hand, had a wide array of uses. Drought hitting your crops? Magic rain! Trolls killing your villagers? That was very clearly a fireball situation. It may not be as powerful as the spear one-on-one, but magic would allow him to deal with a lot of potential issues for as long as he could cast. 

    Mig’s gift was the least interesting at first glance. After all, it seemed unwise to enter into this new world of magic and potential dangers as little more than a regular guy. Sean had always been a slow build player in strategy games, though, and knew how powerful a scaling mechanic could be if left alone to grow out of control. Could he risk that play here, though? Similarly the advisor could be helpful, but it wasn’t as obviously useful as just knowing how to fight or cast spells. Still, having someone or something that could guide him in a world that he had no understanding of could be invaluable.

    It was this last thought that forced Sean’s hand. This wasn’t a game, he couldn’t reload if he made a mistake. If he killed a benevolent spirit by accident with Mag’s spear, or caused rampant wildfire with Mog’s magic by casting the wrong spell during the dry season, there was no walking that back. He could hurt others through his ignorance, and that wasn’t something he was willing to chance. Even if it meant that his second life might be shorter than he’d have liked.

    Sean walked up to Mig, “I accept your boon, miss, if you’ll grant it to me.”

    Mig smiled widely, “Of course, fledgling, I grant this boon freely and with confidence that you will mend Aiane back into the kingdom it was of old.”

    She reached out, placing the chain around Sean’s neck and closing the clasp behind it. As she let it fall around his shoulders, he felt its weight. It was heavier than he’d expected for such a narrow chain, its pendant thudding against his sternum.

    Mig spoke as she and her sisters withdrew to their thrones. “Now, fledgling, it is time to leave the nest. We will send you to a long abandoned castle in the northern regions. There you can learn your new trade in relative safety and grow your influence. Your advisor will be waiting for you when you arrive.”

    Sean felt the temperature in the air around him drop as a phantom gale whipped through the air. The room felt like it was expanding outwards, the shadows deepening with each passing second, the thrones receding into darkness.

    “Wait!” He cried out, struggling to hear over the growing howl of the wind. “How exactly will people know I have your blessing?”

    “Trust us,” the raven’s whisper-scream replied as Sean’s consciousness faded out, “they will know.”