Luke stabbed Xera into the permafrost ground. He used the blade as a support to get to his feet.
He gestured with his head to Sooty. She gleefully rattled and landed on his head.
“If that’s the seat you want to use this time, fine,” Luke said.
He held out the sigil stone to Veyri. She had walked up to Luke when he wasn’t paying attention.
“Not sure how to link a stone to another’s. Last time, the other side did it for me.”
“Oh? Which other girl has your sigil stone information?” Veyri asked.
Luke furrowed his brow, “I don’t remember saying it was a girl. How did you know?”
“Intuition,” Veyri said as she pulled out her sigil stone and touched it to Luke’s.
I hope women’s intuition isn’t as scary here as it was on Earth. Luke hid his thoughts.
“You’re thinking something about women. Be less obvious about it in front of me, please. Now, accept the link,” Veyri stared at him.
Abort, abort, discovery imminent. Luke panicked. A new prompt ended his internal bind.
[Do you wish to accept Veyri Derogeance’s sigil connection? Y/N]
Luke tapped yes, and an additional line came after.
[Veyri Derogeance is attempting to connect to your sigil stone. Accept?]
Luke accepted it, and Veyri brought up the sigil stone to her mouth and spoke, a waved rune spread across the sigil as she did so, “If you decline, it’ll allow me to leave a short message instead. The Interface has its own sort of intelligence. It’ll decline for you if you’re in the middle of something.”
He brought the sigil stone to his mouth but noticed a subtle amount of essence involuntarily being siphoned into the rune etched to its surface. He cut off the siphon, and the ephemeral link between the two was cut.
Veyri patted him on the shoulder, “Figured out how to end a link all on your own. Your resource control must be above average,” She walked over to the dead assassin’s corpse, “I’ll be keeping this.” A vortex opened up to a spatial bag she wore, and the body was slowly dragged inside.
“That’s borderline nightmare fuel,” Luke said.
Veyri stood up and put a finger to her cheek while tilting her head, “We can’t lose the evidence, now can we? Come along, Luke Wallace.”
The archer lady had saved his life. Luke figured he could humor her request without a fight.
“Alright, where to?” He said.
Veyri ignored him momentarily; she called out, “Melen, no need to stand guard anymore; we’re leaving.”
The monic man hurriedly walked over and greeted Luke, “Seems like we will be meeting more often; I am Melen, a curseweaver.”
“Luke, a spell sword,” he eyed Melen’s thin chain mail, “not a pure cloth wearer like the other casters I’ve met,” he said.
Veyri patted Melen on the head, “That’s a benefit to being on my team; we spotted this little guy’s talent a month ago and have been ramping him up to be ready for the tower ever since. Some casters benefit more from the added protection over the small damage or spell power loss. We believe he’s that type.” She kicked an ice shard, “Doesn’t stop most from being ignorant about it and wearing sissy cloth anyway.”
Melen pulled Veyri’s hand off him, “Sissy cloth is not a proper descriptor, Lady Veyri. While I appreciate your help, there is no need to display your opinion in that manner.” He gestured to Luke, “Are you aware you have a bird on your head?”
Veyri disrupted the conversation’s direction, “Anyhow, with proper chain mail user Melen here, it’s time to return to the Diremoon Lair. That’s the ticket out this dull frozen hole,” Veyri said.
Sooty gave Melen a distrustful stare and clicked her beak a few times.
“My companion, Sooty, has a few habits of her own. You’ll see over time if we continue to meet,” He shifted his eyes to Veyri, “Why go back there? I cleared it out, and no portal formed. It was strange, when I killed Asani, a portal appeared moments later.”
Veyri sauntered past Luke, “Walk and talk boys, walk and talk.”
Luke and Melen followed roughly a step behind Veyri. The cave not wide enough at particular points for the three to move side by side.
While looking forward, Veyri said, “That’s standard in assassination attempts, Luke Wallace. Can’t have a mark escape with any long distance teleportation methods. If it’s the usual way, a tier 1 scroll called spatial lock would work well for this low-level dungeon.”
Iced snow crunched under Luke’s feet, “A scroll for assassinations? Why am I not surprised.”
“You have misunderstood,” Melen said, his cloak pulled back as he genuflected with a hand, “spatial lock is a measure against long-distance instant movement; the created portals here are low-power enough that it works as a cheap assassination tool.”
“That makes me feel even worse. I was being assassinated as cheaply as possible. On top of that, it nearly worked.” Luke muttered, eyes following the floor.
“A tier 2 assassin isn’t cheap, Luke Wallace,” Veyri walked over the beheaded hunter groups along the way, making no motion to put them to rest, “I knew you were different, but successfully running away isn’t something just anyone can do.” Luke barely heard a whisper afterward, “You’ll be mine…‘spell sword.’”
Luke internally sweated, feeling like he painted an even larger target on his back by managing to survive. Choosing not to comment, he said, “What about those hunters back there? Shouldn’t we do something about that?”
Veyri took out her bow, about to shoot a Boreal Basilisk before she noticed it laying in submission to Luke, “Strange, they don’t do that unless,” she turned her head to her shoulder, “you’ve killed Onelius, haven’t you? Lucky bastard. Loot must’ve been nice for so little effort.”
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Speeding up to match his pace to Veyri’s, Luke corrected her, “Definitely wasn’t a small effort for me. My companion almost didn’t make it.”
“That’s because you keep holding back,” Veyri confidently stated.
Luke opened his mouth to deny it but found he couldn’t refuse her in good faith. He could’ve placed Essence Bond on Onelius and Xera from the start. Essence Fissure easily would’ve handled a multitude of issues the fight presented. The longer he thought about it, the more downcast he became. Trying to keep to his own story was half the reason his companion, no, his best friend, nearly died.
He scratched Sooty’s nails, “Sorry, pal. My cowardice put you in harm’s way.”
Sooty appeared slightly confused but accepted the free scratches.
Reading Luke a little too well, Veyri continued the topic, “You’ll have to tell the truth one day, Luke Wallace. Or you’ll lose more than you can bear.”
The group silently walked on, except for banter between Melen and Veyri. Luke kept to himself, as he usually did when given the choice. Minutes later, they appeared in front of the dead rune entrance. Veyri placed a palm on the rune, and it instantly lit up, satisfied.
Seeing how quickly Veyri got the rune to become active, Luke said, “Explains how I barely created a gap with the assassin. That sneaky rat probably opened the cavern wall in less than three seconds.”
Veyri responded, “But those seconds ended up saving your life.”
The cavern wall sank into the ground, and the group of three walked in. The tundra forest revealed only the presence of minor life; no monsters were present.
“You cleared the place out well, Luke Wallace,” she pointed to the tundra forest, “in there would be where the portal spawns. Since you’ve taken everything good this floor has to offer, I’ll have to take poor Melen here to the fireside.”
Melen looked visibly distraught. He read in the library that a subset of monic individuals hated hot areas with a passion. Luke guessed his new acquaintance was one of those.
They entered the forest. The white mist pushed aside as they did so. Faint nature sounds filled the previous silence. Bits of light poked through the hole in the cavern’s top.
Unsure if he’d get a chance to ask a better source anytime soon, Luke fired off a question, “That assassin said he was part of the Red Gorrids. Who are they, and why target me?”
Veyri stopped before a green swirling portal, this time masquerading as a pool seeping into the permafrost forest floor, “The Red Gorrids are one of the three major competing underworld powers, Luke Wallace. Becoming a target is something of a rite of passage for any unlucky combat type, except most targeted don’t survive the rite.” She stretched and yawned, acting like this all was yesterday’s news to her, “Could be any reason they decided to assassinate you. Like the overpriced shoulders you’re wearing, the rare companion, the artifact sword, the mysterious neckpiece, the cape you looted from clearing Onelius, even the chest from Asani makes a handful of nobles green with envy.”
“I’m being targeted this heavily for my valuables? I haven’t even interacted with that part of the city at all.” Luke said, trying to conceal his inner shock at how easily Veyri picked apart his equipment. He felt incredibly uneasy that Veyri identified one of his artifacts.
“No, you likely haven’t, but they’ve kept tabs on you since the moment you entered Sylen. A man with your senses had to witness it at least once. Thugs inspecting you from afar, who do you think they work for?”
Indeed, Luke noticed several times that shady types measured him up as he walked Sylen’s streets.
“What can I do about it?” Luke said.
“The current you? Nothing. Sylen isn’t so easily solved, ‘spell sword,’” Veyri jumped into the green portal, putting an end to the conversation.
Melen said, “She’s taking some of her frustration out on you, Luke. Lady Veyri has been fighting with those types for years now. I’ll apologize in her stead.”
“I don’t mind. She’s right, after all. I couldn’t handle one random assassin they sent; what a shit show of a city I found myself in.”
Melen laughed and sank into the portal, “At least you found out about it and lived to tell the tale.”
Luke felt a prick in the back of his head, like he was on the verge of realization, but couldn’t quite force it. Luke dipped one foot into the exit and then the other. He thought in silence for a second before the teleportation took place.
What am I missing?
----------------------------------------
A golden jeweled goblet shattered against the floor. Shards burst into the dark brown wood walls, accentuated by red crystal. A floating silver table shook. Golden light sprang from runes, illuminating the room. One could smell crushed emerald mint in the air.
The room contained dozens of red jade crystals; a shattered one was laid on the table near its center.
Six people in red robes sat around the rune-etched silver table. Except for one man, the others had their features hidden by different magics. Mists, shadows, one glowed with sunlight to conceal themselves.
The only openly revealed man let his outstretched arm fall back to his armrest; he said, “Any of you care to explain to me how Relin failed to assassinate a lowly spell sword?” A man with a grey beard, pale skin, and red eyes said. Tattoos crept up his neck and covered his forearms. He looked well-muscled, his voice booming. He lowered his voice, containing a threatening undertone, “Fourth Baron, will I have to pick up after your assassin’s mess myself?”
A man’s voice came from the red-robed Baron with pure shadow covering his face, “Red Overlord, Relin’s skills were more than enough to handle the spell sword. If you would allow me to investigate, I can discover who interfered with the assassination.”
The Red Overlord’s eyes stared at the Fourth Baron in silence for a long minute. The other barons dared not to speak, relieved they weren’t the reason this meeting was called. Slowly, the Red Overlord opened his mouth and said, “Do you understand why I am appalled at this failure, Fourth Baron?”
Shifting in his seat, the Fourth Baron said, “A botched operation against an insultingly low target is an affront to your reputation, Red Overlord. If I may-,”
Cutting him off, the Red Overlord spoke in a monotone voice and raised three fingers. “Sylen’s powerful and wealthy come to us over the Golden Lions or the Velvet Hand for three sinful reasons. The most important of the three, being our superior assassination network in this city and its outskirts.” He curled the three fingers into a fist and smashed it against the table, shaking it wildly, “If we lose faith in that service we provide, it will be far more damaging to the Red Gorrids than petty reputation loss amongst Sylen’s upper class.”
The Red Overlord slowly exhaled, a minor amount of his fury left him, “I expect you, Fourth Baron, to find out exactly why this assassination failed within half a day. It better be close to an act of god. Otherwise, heads will roll.” The Red Overlord stood up, “Straighten out the less critical agendas between yourselves; I’ve got a city to plunder.”
"Etot el Seerae"
With those words, the man left in a blur, exiting through double arch doors made of unidentified black metal. The barons responded in kind, "Etot el Seerae". Then remained still in their seats.
A few moments passed, once the Barons were assured their Overlord would not return, they faced the Baron with sunlight covering them from the neck up.
A woman’s voice emanated from the covered face, “As First Baron, I shall preside over the rest of the meeting. Any objections?”
The rest of the Red Barons spoke in unison, “None.”
Sunlight rose to the room’s wood-arched ceiling, overwhelming the previous light sources, “Much better,” the First Baron said, she tapped a finger on the silver table, “Fourth Baron, prioritize figuring out what caused the failure, then, to appease our sponsor, execute the target if at all possible.” Seeing the Fourth Baron had yet to move, she continued, “Go on, the rest of the matters can be handled by me and the other Barons,” she shooed the Fourth Baron away with her right hand.
The Fourth Baron stood up from his darkwood chair, “It will be done.” He vanished into the air. Not even his exit through the doors or otherwise was visible.
“With the Fourth Baron out to clean his mess, on to other, more important, tasks. Fifth Baron, we’ll start with you; how are preparations for the coming auction and monster tide?”
Falling gold, bronze, and silver concealed this Baron’s identity, the coins moving in an endless cycle; the Fifth Baron’s voice came out gender neutral, “The threads are being pulled now, with the Second Baron’s timely assistance, the correct assets are being smuggled into the city. Weapons are being procured, drugs made, and requisitioned transfers are being advertised. I dare say this will be the most profitable Tide yet.”
Not skipping a beat, the First Baron said, “And the Essences?”
Chuckling, the Fifth Baron spoke, “Straight to your residence, as always, First Baron.”
“Excellent. Second Baron, how is the negotiation with the Golden Lions for the matter with the Velvet Hand progressing?”
The Second Baron spoke casually, “Those brainless fools are in denial currently, but I’ll bring them around soon.”
Four figures continued to discuss, their words influencing the fates of many.