Chapter 3: The Goat Conspiracy
POV: Adam/Pavel
Adam's first conscious thought was that something was fundamentally wrong with the universe. His second was that his left foot was cold.
He blinked in the gray pre-dawn light filtering through the tent walls, then looked down at his feet. One boot sat neatly beside his bedroll. The other was nowhere to be seen.
"What the hell?"
A soft munching sound drew his attention to the tent's entrance. There, silhouetted against the morning light, stood a goat. A perfectly ordinary brown and white goat, except for the fact that it was systematically devouring his left boot.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The goat looked up at him with those unsettling yellow eyes that all goats seemed to possess, a strip of leather hanging from its mouth like some demented smile. It chewed thoughtfully, as if considering the boot's flavor profile.
Adam sat up carefully, not wanting to startle the creature. "Easy there. Just... put down the boot."
"Magnificent cheese sculptures are plotting world domination!"
The goat's ears perked up at the sound of his voice. It took another bite of boot leather and began backing toward the tent flap.
"Oh no. Oh hell no."
Adam lunged forward, and the goat bolted. It shot through the tent flap like a furry bullet, taking his boot with it. Adam scrambled after it, hopping on one booted foot while his bare foot hit the cold, dew-soaked ground.
"Stop! Thief! Boot-eating menace!"
"Purple kangaroos are excellent at diplomatic negotiations!"
The goat careened between the tents with Adam in pursuit, leaving a trail of confused soldiers in their wake. Someone shouted as the goat bounded over a supply crate. Another curse followed as Adam crashed into the same crate, sending tin cups flying.
"This is humiliating. I'm being outmaneuvered by livestock."
The chase led them through the mess area, where early-rising soldiers ducked out of the way. The goat leaped onto a table, scattering breakfast preparations, then bounded off toward the section of camp where the colored tents stood.
"The Grisha quarters. Of course."
Adam rounded a corner just in time to see the goat disappear between two silken pavilions. He followed, his bare foot now thoroughly numb and decorated with burrs, just as the creature decided to take refuge inside a tent.
Not just any tent. A tent with deep blue silk walls and the unmistakable feeling of magical presence.
Adam skidded to a halt at the entrance, suddenly aware that charging into a Grisha tent while babbling nonsense and chasing a goat might not be the wisest course of action. But the goat had his boot, and Pavel's meager possessions didn't extend to spare footwear.
"In for a penny..."
He ducked through the tent flap and immediately collided with what felt like a brick wall. The impact sent him sprawling backward, and he found himself staring up at a tall man with the kind of pale, angular features that suggested Fjerdan ancestry. The man's dark coat marked him as a Heartrender, and his expression suggested he was not pleased to find a one-booted soldier sprawled in his tent.
"What," the man said in a voice like winter wind, "is the meaning of this?"
"That would be Ivan. Shit."
The goat, meanwhile, had settled itself comfortably on what appeared to be an expensive rug and was now methodically working through the boot's buckles.
"I can explain," Adam said, trying to get to his feet.
"Tap-dancing lobsters are holding secret meetings!"
Ivan's expression shifted from irritation to something approaching alarm. Behind him, another voice chuckled.
"Now this is interesting."
A second man emerged from deeper in the tent—shorter than Ivan, with laughing eyes and the same blue coat. Fedyor, Adam's mind supplied. The more reasonable half of Ivan's partnership.
"Let me guess," Fedyor continued, studying the scene with apparent amusement. "The goat is yours?"
Adam pointed at his foot, then at the goat, then made a grabbing gesture. The goat looked up from its meal and bleated innocently.
"He's trying to say the goat stole his boot," Fedyor translated helpfully.
"Crystallized moonbeams make terrible fashion accessories!"
"Or he's having some kind of seizure," Ivan muttered. "Should we call a healer?"
"Great. Now the Grisha think I'm insane too."
Adam crept carefully toward the goat, moving slowly so as not to spook it again. The creature watched him with those unnervingly intelligent eyes, still chewing on a leather strap.
"Easy," Adam murmured. "Just give me the boot and we can pretend this never happened."
"Seventeen purple elephants are planning a coup!"
The goat tilted its head, as if actually considering his words. Then it stood, walked over to Adam, and dropped the mangled boot at his feet.
"Well. That's... unexpected."
"Did that goat just... understand him?" Fedyor asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Ivan made a disgusted noise. "It's a goat, Fedyor. It doesn't understand anything except eating and causing trouble."
But as Adam bent to retrieve his boot, the goat did something even stranger. It bumped its head against his hand—a gentle, almost affectionate gesture—before trotting past the stunned Grisha and disappearing through the tent flap.
[PROXIMITY BONUS ACTIVATED]
[GRISHA PRESENCE DETECTED: MULTIPLE SOURCES]
[+15 EXP GAINED]
[CURRENT EXP: 90/100]
[EMOTIONAL INTENSITY MULTIPLIER: EMBARRASSMENT x1.2]
[BONUS EXP: +3]
[CURRENT EXP: 93/100]
"Seven points away from unlocking Nullify. And I got bonus experience for being humiliated by a goat."
Adam clutched his destroyed boot and tried to look appropriately apologetic. "Sorry for the intrusion. I'll just—"
"Magnificent cheese sculptures are plotting world domination!"
Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Saints preserve us."
But Fedyor was still watching Adam with that curious expression. "You know, there's something different about you. I can't quite put my finger on it."
"Different how? Can he sense the system?"
Adam shook his head and backed toward the tent entrance, making placating gestures. The last thing he needed was to attract more attention from the Grisha.
"Thank you for your patience," he managed, then immediately cursed himself as his mouth betrayed him again.
"Dancing teacups are excellent conversationalists!"
"Right," Ivan said flatly. "Get out."
Adam didn't need to be told twice. He hobbled out of the tent, clutching his ruined boot, and tried to ignore the way other soldiers stared at him as he made his way back to his own tent.
"I need that goat to stay away from me. The last thing I need is more chaos drawing attention."
But as he sat on his bedroll, trying to figure out how to repair the boot with the limited supplies available, Adam couldn't shake the feeling that the encounter hadn't been random. The goat had seemed almost... purposeful. Like it had wanted to lead him to the Grisha tent.
"Paranoid thinking. It's just a goat."
Still, as he worked on the damaged leather, Adam found himself glancing toward the tent flap, half-expecting to see those yellow eyes watching him from the shadows.
The morning meal was a subdued affair. Adam had managed to make his boot functional, if not pretty, and was picking at a bowl of porridge that tasted like disappointment when Mal dropped onto the bench beside him.
"You look like hell," Mal observed.
"Magnificent purple butterflies are organizing a rebellion!"
"Right. Still with the head injury." Mal studied Adam's face with that tracker's intensity. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe you should try kitchen duty today. Less chance of getting hit in the head again."
Adam's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. Kitchen duty meant working near the Grisha dining area. It also meant steady proximity to magical sources—exactly what he needed to gain the last few experience points.
"That's actually brilliant. I can grind EXP while doing something useful."
He nodded enthusiastically, and Mal looked pleased with himself.
"Good. I'll talk to Sergeant Yure. Light duty until your brain starts working again."
As Mal walked away, Adam allowed himself a small smile. Sometimes the speech curse worked in his favor.
The camp kitchen was a controlled chaos of bubbling pots, chopping knives, and shouted orders. The head cook—a weathered woman named Marta who ruled her domain with an iron ladle—took one look at Adam and pointed him toward a pile of potatoes.
"Peeling," she said curtly. "Think you can manage that without spouting poetry?"
Adam nodded and settled himself at a wooden table within sight of the Grisha dining pavilion. Through the open tent flaps, he could see figures in their colored coats gathering for their morning meal.
[PROXIMITY BONUS ACTIVATED]
[MULTIPLE GRISHA SOURCES DETECTED]
[+8 EXP GAINED]
[CURRENT EXP: 101/100]
[SKILL UNLOCK THRESHOLD EXCEEDED]
[[NULLIFY] SKILL AVAILABLE]
[UNLOCK NOW? Y/N]
"Finally."
Adam tried to look casual as he accepted the skill unlock, all while mechanically peeling potatoes.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: [NULLIFY] LEVEL 1]
[RANGE: 1 METER]
[EFFECT: 10% POWER REDUCTION TO GRISHA ABILITIES]
[STAMINA COST: NONE (PASSIVE)]
[CURRENT EXP: 1/100]
[WARNING: SKILL ACTIVATION MAY BE DETECTED BY SENSITIVE GRISHA]
The knowledge settled into his mind like a key finding its lock. Adam could feel the new ability humming beneath his skin—a subtle wrongness that seemed to push against the magical energies around him.
"One meter range. That's barely anything. But it's a start."
A commotion from the Grisha pavilion drew his attention. A young woman with dark hair had entered the dining area, and every conversation seemed to pause as she passed. Even from this distance, Adam could feel the familiar warmth of proximity to her.
"Alina."
She moved through the space with careful grace, nodding to other Grisha but not quite belonging among them. Everything about her posture screamed otherness—the way she held herself slightly apart, the careful neutrality of her expression.
"She doesn't know yet. She still thinks she's just another cartographer."
As if sensing his attention, Alina looked toward the kitchen. Their eyes met across the space, and she offered a small wave. Adam waved back, accidentally flinging potato peeling across the workspace.
"Smooth," muttered one of the other kitchen workers.
[PROXIMITY BONUS: ALINA STARKOV]
[+5 EXP GAINED]
[EMOTIONAL CONNECTION DETECTED]
[RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT BONUS: +2 EXP]
[CURRENT EXP: 8/100]
Adam bent back to his work, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest. The system was tracking his relationship with Alina, quantifying every interaction. It felt clinical, wrong somehow—reducing human connection to numbers and bonuses.
But if those numbers helped him protect her, he could live with the discomfort.
The morning passed in a steady rhythm of peeling, chopping, and proximity bonuses. Adam found himself cataloging the different Grisha as they moved through his limited range—the distinctive feel of each order's magic, the way some powers seemed to resonate more strongly than others.
It was during a lull in the lunch preparations that something strange happened.
Adam was reaching for another potato when the world suddenly pixelated around the edges, like a corrupted video file. The sounds of the kitchen became distant and tinny, and for a moment, he could swear he saw lines of code scrolling across his vision.
[ERROR: UNEXPECTED INTERACTION DETECTED]
[TIMELINE DEVIATION: 2.3%]
[ANALYZING...]
[CAUSE: UNAUTHORIZED SKILL USAGE]
[EVALUATION: DEVIATION WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS]
[CONTINUE? Y/N]
[DEFAULT SELECTION IN 3... 2... 1...]
[ERR_FATE_COLLISION_001]
The world snapped back to normal with an almost audible pop. Adam blinked, looking around the kitchen to see if anyone else had noticed the distortion. But the other workers continued their tasks, seemingly oblivious.
"What the hell was that?"
The system had glitched. That much was clear. But what did it mean by 'timeline deviation' and 'fate collision'? And why had unlocking his first skill triggered some kind of error state?
"Maybe using the abilities changes things. Maybe the system isn't supposed to exist in this world, and every time I use it, I'm breaking something."
The thought was deeply unsettling. If his very presence was destabilizing the timeline, what did that mean for the people around him? For Alina?
Adam stared down at the half-peeled potato in his hands, his mind racing with implications. The system had said the deviation was within acceptable parameters, but acceptable to whom? And what would happen if he pushed beyond those limits?
A shadow fell across his workspace, and Adam looked up to see a figure standing just outside the kitchen tent. The man was unremarkable—average height, brown hair, wearing the clothes of a camp follower. But there was something about the way he stood, the careful stillness of his posture, that made Adam's newly awakened instincts prickle.
The man was watching him. Watching and counting something on what looked like an abacus.
When their eyes met, the man made a mark on a small piece of paper, tucked both items away, and melted back into the crowd of camp followers.
"Who the hell was that?"
Adam tried to follow the figure's movement, but the man had disappeared as completely as if he'd never been there. Only the lingering sense of being observed remained, like an itch between his shoulder blades.
[ANOMALY DETECTED]
[OBSERVER STATUS: UNKNOWN]
[THREAT LEVEL: INDETERMINATE]
[RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN CURRENT COVER]
"Cover? What cover? I'm not undercover, I'm just trying to survive."
But the system's warning was clear enough. Someone was watching him, cataloging his actions. Someone who might know more about his situation than he did.
Adam went back to peeling potatoes, but his hands shook slightly as he worked. First a system glitch, now mysterious watchers. The safe, predictable routine of kitchen duty was beginning to feel a lot less safe.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a cold voice whispered that this was only the beginning.
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