If Only I Had Been Born Twenty Years Earlier!

In the Realms, a creature's abilities were broadly measured by six attributes: strength, constitution, dexterity, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma.

Those six basic attributes directly determined what a creature could do.

The first four were clear enough from their names. The last two needed a little explanation.

Wisdom broadly described the mind's capabilities, including willpower, judgment, perception, and the legendary sixth sense. A creature with high wisdom could notice every detail in a scene. Some people could come home, sleep through the night, and wake without realizing they had been robbed. Others would walk in, notice that a chair had shifted two centimeters to the left, and immediately go on guard.

And in the Realms, where there were deities, faith, magic, and all manner of supernatural forces, high wisdom could also mean sensing hidden presences, reaching higher powers more easily, and communicating more readily with deities or beings from the Outer Planes.

That was why Clerics, Druids, monks, and others who served deities or devoted their faith to a particular principle all needed high wisdom.

Lady Silverstar drew Eleanor behind a stone wall. Holding Miss Cleric's small hand in its white leather glove, she glanced at Aaron, who was sitting outside, sorting his weapons and equipment while talking to Asha, the barbarian woman. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Eleanor did not much like being touched. The Half-elf looked puzzled. "That's strange. Asha has never thought much of noble sons like him."

"It was a charm spell!" Lady Silverstar said gravely, interest showing on her mature, full face. "He cast it, perhaps without realizing it."

Miss Cleric furrowed her golden brows.

He really had changed. As Eleanor remembered him, Aaron had been unremarkable. He had manners and poise, but one look told her he had never truly been tested in battle. Now he struck her as a noble who had survived life and death on the battlefield and earned his honors there. He had a hard edge, along with confidence and maturity. He acted with purpose, and he had acquired a little noble cunning, too.

His request for help, for instance, had been handled rather deftly, at least in Miss Cleric's eyes.

He had laid out his predicament and asked for help, then offered a price. When that failed, he appealed to their relationship, then offered to leave, retreating to gain ground. After accepting their help, he had not sworn a host of hollow oaths or made promises he plainly could not keep, as so many nobles would have done. He knew his present strength and the resources at his disposal, so he had merely said that they could come to him if they needed anything in the future.

Those were the qualities an excellent noble ought to have.

More intriguing still, Aaron now radiated charm. His sky-blue eyes seemed as vast and unfathomable as a cloudless sky. If she met his gaze for even a moment, she felt an uncontrollable urge to keep looking, as though her soul had risen into the heavens and lost its way in the thin air above.

At the thought, a faint blush spread across Miss Cleric's fair, delicate cheeks. Even with most of her face hidden behind a mask, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

How did he suddenly become so charming? Could the Lady of Silver's blessing really be that powerful?

Wait!

The quick-witted Miss Cleric caught on at once. "Extraordinary Charisma! He's a Sorcerer! He's become a Sorcerer?!"

Lady Silverstar nodded slowly. "That was charisma-based spellcasting."

Charisma was perhaps the hardest of the six attributes to understand.

Taken at face value, the word could be read as "looks plus personal magnetism."

What did looks mean?

"Once there was a rustic in Russia, big and handsome, with eyes that burned like fire. Timid folk wanted to flee at the sight of him, but the women of Moscow flirted the moment they saw him.

He spoke of scripture with more passion than a priest, and he taught in other ways too. Women longed for his lessons."

"Ra-ra-Rasputin, the queen's lover was that rustic."

And what was personal magnetism?

A short, plain, slightly balding fat man spread his arms before thousands of soldiers who had come to stop him.

"Soldiers of the Fifth Legion, I am the Emperor."

"Soldiers, if you wish to kill your Emperor, fire."

But beyond looks and personal magnetism, the attribute's most important aspect was its "affinity." That included, but was not limited to, leadership, negotiation, persuasion, deception, intimidation, and an attraction to the laws of the world and the elements of nature.

Unless they bore an innate prejudice or hatred, most creatures found it difficult to dislike someone with high charisma.

Someone with exceptionally high charisma could sometimes wander through a dragon's lair without being attacked. The dragon might even give them a parting gift!

Those with still greater charisma could have an extraordinary affinity with the laws of nature, even the laws of the universe.

"Extraordinary Charisma. The charisma Aaron is displaying has surpassed the limits of humanity!" Lady Silverstar grew cautious as she spoke.

Yes, mortal attributes had limits. That was a law of the world. To break through those limits required outside help, such as the divine power of a deity or the aid of certain beings from the Outer Planes.

Without outside help, a mortal could never awaken Extraordinary Charisma through their own efforts!

"A Draconic Sorcerer?" Eleanor grew more wary.

"I don't think so. Draconic Sorcerers don't have Extraordinary Charisma either." Lady Silverstar narrowed her eyes. "And he can't be a Godspawn. I watched him grow up."

"He is a Touched One, someone our lady has blessed. Eleanor, I have a task for you." Lady Silverstar rubbed her brow wearily. She badly needed rest. "Listen to me..."

Aaron did not have to wait long.

The charm had already worn off, but Asha had not realized that the eighteen-year-old boy before her had charmed her. She only thought the blessing of Selûne had made him a little different. After using Aaron's gold to get him a standard longsword and a small bundle of travel supplies—a tinderbox and a waterskin—she kept wanting to say a few more words to him. But Asha was blunt and usually carefree, and she could not think of anything to say. Her whole face turned red. At last she went to a nearby corner, picked up two great iron weights that each weighed at least two hundred pounds, and began exercising.

"Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!" For some reason, the barbarian woman was making an especially loud racket. She felt unusually strong today, as though power were pouring into her from behind. Everything she did felt effortless.

Aaron packed his things. He glanced at the barbarian woman's back, then at the two iron weights, each at least two hundred pounds, that she handled like toys. He broke into a cold sweat.

In his mind, those two iron weights gradually took on his own shape. Even with his armor, weapons, and equipment, he did not weigh two hundred pounds!

He remembered a death in Suzail. A barbarian woman had argued with her husband, and both had been at fault. But barbarians were generally not too bright. As she ran out of words against him, she grabbed her still-chattering husband by the back of the neck, carried him to the roof, and let go. The world fell quiet, and she won the argument.

This was a fantasy world!

Now that was real female power!

With her second-tier elite strength, she could punch his brains out if she got close!

Best not mess with her. Definitely not. Aaron swallowed and shook his head repeatedly.

"Are you ready?" A cool, distant woman's voice brought Aaron back to himself. Miss Cleric stood gracefully before him with a medium-sized pack on her back. Her lovely face remained hidden behind a mask bearing the Holy Symbol of the Lady of Silver. A golden ponytail shone in the sunlight and fell to her waist, while the short hair at her temples looked neat and practical. Even beneath her robes, Aaron could make out her slender waist.

Miss Cleric was not tall, perhaps five feet four inches or so. She was considerably shorter than the six-foot barbarian woman nearby, but her figure was beautifully proportioned, with the long, graceful lines of a ballet dancer.

Beneath her robe was a finely made Cleric's breastplate, with a white shirt under that. She was covered from head to toe, without an inch left exposed. A very thick tome hung from her belt, its cover also marked with the Lady of Silver's emblem. In her other hand she held the Hand of the Moon, a standard Church warhammer.

Yes, a warhammer.

After seeing too much Japanese-style fantasy and too many risqué illustrations in his previous life, Aaron knew how easily people formed a stereotype: Clerics were delicate beauties who could be knocked over with a touch, wore pure-white robes that were rather revealing, if not practically bikinis, and spent their time timidly casting healing spells from behind the front line.

That was not how it worked at all.

But neither did every Cleric have to dress like a heavily armored warrior, as Eleanor did.

How most Clerics dressed depended on the deity they worshiped and the domain they served. Clerics of Lady Firehair really did favor thin robes and low-cut dresses that showed off their figures. Clerics of the Three Gods of Justice mostly wore white helmets and armor, while Clerics of the god of thieves wore fitted leather and cloaks, looking much like wanderers.

Aaron noticed that Miss Cleric had changed into a brand-new pair of deerskin boots. The perfect curve of her calves held his gaze for a moment, though her robe and armored skirt were both long, and the collar of her robe was fastened with a carefully tied bow. "I'm ready too. Shall we leave now?"

"Mm." Eleanor had meant to begin this journey calmly, but when Aaron looked her way, she hurriedly averted her eyes. A faint blush crossed her face.

His gaze seems to have some frightening power.

"Then let's go." Aaron took the bag containing Hicks's remains from Eleanor and weighed it in his hand. "I can't wait to get back to Suzail."

Only after they left the open-air altar did Miss Cleric realize her impression had been right.

Beastfolk, commoners, clergy, and even guards could not help fixing their eyes on Aaron when they saw him. They watched until he disappeared from sight.

As soon as the pair left the altar, Asha put down the iron weights.

"What's wrong, Asha? Keep going!" a burly Paladin said with a laugh.

"I'm done! Don't feel like it."

Seabury lay in the heart of the kingdom, beside Wyvern Lake. It was the home of the Dragonspike and Thunderblade noble families. Both held considerable power there, and together they had nearly monopolized the town's trade and crafts. They subjected every commoner entering or leaving Seabury to strict inspection.

The young nobles of the Dragonspike family were particularly thorough. Dressed in finery, they searched every "suspicious" person at the gate. There was also an "express paid lane": for five Golden Lions, anyone could pass straight through.

The gate was consequently packed. Adventurers, merchants, townspeople, farmers, and artisans jostled together. The stench of sweat, spit, body odor, fish, and raw meat hung in the gate passage.

Amid the arguments, guards overturned an entire barrel of fish and poked through it with spears in search of "contraband." Other guards, urged on by the Dragonspike youths, carefully searched every traveler's bags and wagon.

It was utter chaos.

"This could be troublesome, Miss Eleanor. Stay close to me," Aaron said casually.

"Lord Salian, I don't need your protection. No one in Seabury would dare trouble a servant of the Lady of Silver!" Eleanor frowned. The stench in her face was unpleasant enough, and Aaron's "inappropriate" behavior irritated her further.

What does he take me for? Some frail woman who needs protecting?

"You're the one protecting me, Lady Eleanor." Smiling, Aaron took hold of Eleanor's sleeve and lowered his voice. "I mean, if you stand closer to me, you won't have to smell this!"

Why would standing closer to you keep me from smelling it? Eleanor did not understand at first. Yet when Aaron moved beside her, nearly every foul smell in the gate passage vanished in an instant.

She caught a faint fragrance on him, a blend of citrus and lemon with the slightest trace of rosemary.

Miss Cleric relaxed at once, her irritation melting away.

Is this another effect of Extraordinary Charisma?

This man is hard to read. Is he good or evil? Either way, I must carry out Lady Silverstar's request.

The Half-elf settled on a reason for herself: she was here to watch over and escort him. There was nothing wrong with standing a little closer, was there?

She truly hated foul smells and filth.

Eleanor stared intently at the man's back. She would be watching him for a long time to come.

I hope you do not disappoint the Lady of Silver, Aaron of Salian.

If you do, the Lady of Silver may forgive you, but I will not!

I will deliver righteous judgment with the warhammer in my hand.

Aaron felt her gaze on his back.

His skin gave off a fragrance that drove away foul odors. It was a peculiar power of Slaanesh.

The Prince of Pleasure had always loathed the smells of blood, brass, and lava that clung to Khorne, and Nurgle's stench was worse still. This minor power erased every foul smell nearby and replaced it with a faint fragrance.

Slaanesh always puts effort into such useless things, Aaron thought, unable to resist a jab.

No wonder the other three gods are always beating Slaanesh down.

But that was not where his attention lay now. He was focused on the richly dressed young nobles of the Dragonspike family at the gate!

For the past year or two, the Dragonspike family had been riding high throughout the kingdom, nearly recapturing its greatest days.

Two years ago, after all, a member of the Dragonspike family had ascended to godhood!

Finder Dragonspike, one of the founders of the Harpers, was now the God of Art and Reptiles. During the Time of Troubles, the legendary Bard had killed Moander, the god of corruption. With Lady Luck's recommendation and the approval of AO, Overgod, he had successfully ascended!

The Dragonspike family had consequently become one of the most influential families in the Realms.

Yes, the Time of Troubles had ended two years ago! The gods' crisis had ended two years ago too! Apart from the very few who already wandered the Material Plane, all the deities had returned to their divine realms!

I came too late!

The thought made Aaron's chest ache.

In most of the web novels he had read, the protagonists had begun their journeys before the Time of Troubles. They had laid their plans, seized every advantage and every opportunity, then cut loose, either beheading the gods who had fallen from their divine realms into the mortal world or taking them in as lackeys.

So why was it already over by the time I got here?

The young Viscount stared at the Dragonspike family crest, seething.

If only I'd been born twenty years earlier! I could have joined Asmodeus to conquer the world fair and square!

Uh, no. That's not right. I'm the Child of Chaos, while Asmodeus is the Lord of the Nine Hells. He's lawful evil. We're not on the same side!

Then I'll pick someone else.

If only I'd been born twenty years earlier! I could have joined Demogorgon to conquer the world fair and square!