Chapter 52: Disaster Recovery

The temple was being kept void of people except for the three of them, they made their way deep into the temple, working their way down a spiral staircase, and eventually reaching some cells.

Crimson was vaguely aware of this space, but it generally wasn’t used. Criminal prosecution was the domain of the Crown, so at most these were holding cells for the rare occasions that a [Priest] or [Priestess] committed a crime. In the entire year he’d been in Falst, Crimson had only ever known them to be used once. A particular [Priest] had gotten too drunk while celebrating his wife’s pregnancy, and it was used as a drunk tank until he sobered up.

A relatively harmless use by any standard, so it was chilling to see them used for their intended purpose.

In the hallway next to Damus’ cell, there were a few chairs set up surrounding both the cell and a table next to it. On the table there were a few items. The first was a lantern shaped like a perfect sphere, it was giving off a blue light and he could feel a bit of [Mana] coming off it. Next to it stood the menorah. It was surrounded by a golden barrier with streaks of silver running through it.

That explained why he wasn’t hit by the influence while in the temple, but why were they brought here? If the goal was just to explain what they’d seen, then a quick discussion in the main hall would have been the best move. Both Crimson and Verity could be seen as prime targets for the menorah’s influence, so bringing them here could be seen as foolish.

Sitting in one of the chairs was the king, so Crimson bowed to him in a formal stance with Verity before turning his attention to the cell, where Damus was chained to the wall. His head lolled off to the side, eyes vacant and staring at the menorah.

“We need every piece of information you have about this situation, boy.” Growled Lars from where he stood, leaning against the wall. It was probably a matter of necessity since the chairs were too small to fit him. He then stopped and frowned at Crimson, “What’s with your eye color?”

Rather than question or argue, Crimson concisely explained the details of the last 24 hours. Starting with their excursion to [Goblin Manor], explaining the ambush by the maniac mob, briefly mentioning Molgis, mentioned his new eye color was the result of a [Skill], and finished by talking about what he knew about Damus and the menorah.

After he fell silent, a long sigh followed from the king. He was a man with a delicate build, being of average height with a narrow waist and narrow shoulders. Crimson could see the resemblance to Rhinese in his face. More pretty than handsome, he didn’t look like a reliable king, but he certainly acted like one.

Crimson could feel the weight of authority rolling off him like a fog, enticing obedience. It wasn’t a [Skill], he couldn’t feel any [Mana], but it was pure authority from a man who knew he had it.

The king spoke, saying, “If I am to understand this correctly, you are a monster.”

That was uncalled for.

He continued, “Putting aside the matters irrelevant to this situation - you will need to speak to your Guild Master after we are done - I will start with two specific questions. First: how long have you known about these ‘secret passages’ under Falst? We sent a few soldiers to explore and they seem to be quite extensive. Second: how did you identify where this menorah was, and further identified that it was full of [Corruption] with a mere glance?”

It was unfortunate that thing were coming out this way, but Crimson was in a position where revealing everything was necessary, so he said, “For your first question, I found them the day after I set foot in Falst. That was about a year ago. For your second question, I didn’t recognize the [Corruption] with a glance, I interacted with it using my [Mana].”

“Then,” growled Lars, “why didn’t you report the tunnels under Falst the minute you found them?”

“I assumed that the people who needed to know about them already did. That kind of stuff will be in the city plans from its construction, so if they were going unused, I thought it was for a good reason.”

It didn’t help that he’d already been primed by ten years of fantasy and fiction writing, so embracing secret passages as a regular thing was a part of his life was a thing he’d accepted without thought.

“And yet you used them.” Noted the king dryly.

“Without a problem for about a year.” He responded, probably a bit too casually given the weight of the situation.

Lars buried his head in his hands, and let out a long sigh. After a moment of silence, the king spoke up, “Do not spread this information around, but Falst was not built by mortal hands. We have no city plans. It was given to us from the Gods.”

Crimson tilted his head in interest and confusion, that would explain why events dating back several hundred years were murky for Falst. Alda had an old capitol called ‘Alda Morne’ that was in use before the abrupt change to Falst, about 200 years ago.

He’d once assumed that the history of its construction was intentionally obfuscated due to the secret routes that had been made.

The fact that it was built by the gods would also explain why there was such extreme architecture. Building a castle in the air like this would be difficult and expensive, something people typically wouldn’t do unless there was a necessity.

“Very well,” Crimson said, agreeing to keep it quiet. Verity offered a similar affirmation from next to him.

“Good. Now, for my next question,” the king said, “how did you find the menorah?”

Didn’t he already ask this question?

“I sensed it using my [Mana], and traced it back to the source. Once there, I interacted with it using my [Mana] to determine what [Affinity] it was aligned to.”

The king sighed, “Your answer didn’t make sense the first time, and it hasn’t made sense the second time. If you’d said you had some kind of sensing [Skill] it would make perfect sense, but…[Mana]? You used an [Affinity] to interact with an object full of another [Affinity] to determine what was inside? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

Ahh, that’s where the confusion was.

“It’s an innate ability I have. I can directly sense and manipulate my [Mana]. If I had to liken it to a sense, it would be a sense of touch. I can feel my [Mana], and I can feel when other sources of [Mana] make contact with it.”

Everyone in the room - sans Verity - stared at him before glancing at the blue lantern on the table. Lars and Rei had expressions that communicated, ‘that explains a lot,’ while the king just seemed troubled and surprised.

While they were dealing with their shock, it would be for the best to consider where his limits were on information sharing.

Talking about Raften? Not a good idea, he wouldn’t say anything about the god of flippancy and weebs. That would be a great way to get in a lot of trouble.

He was more or less fine giving away any information that reflected in his [Blessing], with the exception of [Blessings of Trans’Du’Niir]. While he might get in a bit of trouble if information was leaked, it wouldn’t be too extreme, and he would do everything he could to make it outdated information as soon as possible.

He was uncertain to what extent he should talk about Rhinese. That was the most troublesome point. It would probably be best to only mention his relationship to her if he was directly asked. He’d probably need to talk about and potentially show off the secret passage that led to the Astral Library, but that was a necessary loss. If the king didn’t actually know about the secret passages, then having one in his own home would be untenable. Regardless of whether the passage that led to the rest of the castle was a one way door controlled by Rhinese.

After another moment of silence, the king said, “That is quite a unique ability. Is it the result of a [Skill]?”

“I will keep that part to myself, if you would allow it.” He responded, hopeful. [Blessings of Trans’Du’Niir] was a [Title] directly given to him by Raften. He’d be on dangerous territory if he needed to speak about it at length.

The king surveyed him for a long moment, then glanced at Lars and Rei before turning back to Crimson, “I will allow it. Then let me ask you this instead, how well do you know these secret passages?”

Internally, Crimson breathed a sigh of relief, then opened his mouth to answer the king’s question.

—————

After getting information wrung out of him like a wet cloth, Crimson felt for the first time that he could sympathize with his own treatment of Raften. Maybe he’d take it a little easier on the poor god.

Maybe.

He wasn’t set free before he was forced to promise that he would guide a group of soldiers through the secret passages, and show all the main entrances. There were too many to effectively close them all off, so the easiest to access were prioritized.

The main reason he hadn’t been hauled into the passages immediately came down to the soldiers being spread too thin. Disaster relief had exhausted pretty much every guard and soldier in the city, to say nothing of Crimson himself having been up all night, and so it was decided that there would be a single day given for rest.

Stretching and yawning, he looked up at the slices of sky visible between the pillars supporting the castle. It looked to be mid morning, so he’d have time to take care of business before passing out.

Verity was already a shambling corpse next to him. Her VIT and CON were lower, so she got tired more easily and stayed tired longer than he did. She had kept it together for the meeting, adding input where needed and being generally helpful to him, but the second they’d gone up the stairs to the main floor she’d started to lose energy. He would practically have to carry her to the inn.

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Crimson gently grabbed her by the arm and led her toward their inn, which was just a few minutes walk away. She followed him like a sleepy child and was more than happy to collapse into her bed, fully clothed.

Returning back to the central plaza, he surveyed the area. Most of the urgent disaster relief was finished, the injured treated, and food provided to those who’d lost everything. Most of the people still milling around to offer help were dragging as much as Verity was, and were blearily trying to recruit construction teams to clear rubble.

Crimson didn’t have a builder’s skill set, but he was strong enough to move things, so after a quick check to see that the shops were still closed - for very obvious reasons -, he joined a group and they headed to the slums.

Compared to the size of Falst, the damage was pretty moderate, averaging to two houses per block that showed burn damage, and maybe one in every five of those burned houses were unsalvageable. Half the buildings in Falst were made of stone to begin with, and pretty much all of those were untouched.

Deep in the slums, they found a group of shacks and lean-tos that had been hit pretty hard, and got to work clearing rubble. One of the instructions he’d been given were to set aside the workable pieces of wood, and there weren’t many.

Charcoal dust and ash scattered from his finger tips as he moved heavily burnt pieces of wood as directed. For as tired as he was, his muscles complained just as much. His grip strength nearly failed him on a few occasions, certainly a result of the lack of sleep he was running on, but he pushed through.

The work continued for several hours before they finished up with most of the slum. Wood that wasn’t workable enough to be useful, but not burned enough to discard were handed back to the residents to use as firewood. Some of the wood was converted into charcoal well enough that it was handed back as well.

The most structurally compromised and useless pieces of wood were loaded onto a cart and dragged outside the city to be burned. From Crimson’s perspective, he was glad they handed back more than was sent to be burned. It would be easy to claim it was for a moral reason, but the reality was that it took them less work to return the workable wood to the residents. It being a morally kind option was just a bonus.

Once freed from his volunteer work, he made his way tiredly back to the central plaza. It was late afternoon, so he was glad to see that a few shops had opened up. He was after a back up sword or two to keep on himself for emergency situations.

The better sword shops weren’t open, but there was one that sold some cheaper options, so he browsed carefully. He checked the bend, the edges, and the handles of each sword he looked at, trying to determine the more useful ones.

Whenever he touched a sword, his [Blade Spirit] would enter it, and he tried to see how it responded to each sword he put it in. The differences were subtle, but after a dozen or so swords, he was greeted with the alert.

—————

-[Skill] Level Up!

-[Blade Spirit] 7/10 —> 10/10

-Note: [Blade Spirit] cannot be evolved or fused.

-[Blade Spirit] has met the requirements for advancement.

-Advance?

-y

-[Blade Spirit] 10/10 becomes [Blade Spirit] 1/10

—————

Concern came before excitement, and Crimson checked the bonuses to make sure that his progress hadn’t been reset. Just by holding a sword, he could see that Attack was getting a +5, and Durability was getting a +6. It seemed that while the name hadn’t changed, his [Blade Spirit] had improved.

Eager, hoping this would be an effective way to farm EXP for the [Skill], he began investigating every weapon in the shop that his [Blade Spirit] would enter. Unfortunately, there seemed to be some serious diminishing returns on this method, and he only got his [Blade Spirit] up to 2/10 after looking at all the weapons he could find. The reason it got that high could likely be tied to the fact that the last few swords he’d looked at had both been Lv.5, while the rest had been Lv.3 and under, so maybe the quality of the sword would affect EXP gain?

That felt like a reasonable theory, it was more surprising that he’d gotten the quantity of EXP he did from lower ranked weapons.

Of course, there was one more detail about his improved [Blade Spirit]. It was a small one, but it would likely grow stronger with time. He’d been paying very close attention to how the [Blade Spirit] acted as it entered weapons, and as he did so, he took note of the ones it seemed ‘happier’ to enter. For those ones, it didn’t delay entering, and it delayed leaving the sword for a fraction of a second. The lower quality ones were the other way around, with a delay on it entering the sword and leaving it the instant that he stopped touching it.

As he embraced these observations, he felt a very weak, general sense of approval and disapproval from the [Blade Spirit], strengthening his observations. It didn’t have intelligence like a human, but it seemed to have some kind of will.

With this new sense, he went back over every single sword again, ignoring cries from the clerk to just “buy one already.” Unfortunately, he didn’t find any amazing swords hidden among the lower quality ones, but there were three that felt ever so slightly more acceptable, and they were within budget so he bought them all.

Two of them were very plain longswords, and bore the same maker’s mark. They were only Lv.3, but his [Blade Spirit] would help make up for their lower stats. The last one was a rapier, and it was Lv.4. Of all the swords he’d worked with, the rapier was among his least favorite, but he could appreciate the elegant fighting style they encouraged. His own reluctance ended up serving as the deciding factor to getting it, as his goal was to be good with ALL swords, not just the ones he liked.

That meant that training with the rapier would take higher priority than other styles of swords to get rid of that particular weakness.

After a fierce haggling session where neither Crimson nor the clerk lost their smiles, he managed to get all three for less than 1000 Royals. It was a significant investment, but he’d also gotten a very good bargain…or at least he thought he did. The clerk’s glee clued him into the fact that he might be paying more than they were worth, but without his [Eyes of Will], it was impossible for him to be sure.

800 Royals lighter, Crimson left the shop, shoving the two longswords into his [Sword Armory], getting a level off of that, and shoved his [Reliable Saber] in after them. He equipped the rapier and stretched. His muscles had been very tense during his inspections, so the relief felt amazing.

It was late evening, and he’d gone in the shop during late afternoon. No wonder the clerk was happy to get him out of there - he’d been browsing for somewhere between three and four hours.

Sighing, Crimson realized that his last order of business might not be fulfilled, but he wasn’t going to give up without at least trying, and headed for the guild.

Stepping through the doors, he was nearly knocked off his feet by the press of bodies spilling out from the bar of the guild. There were cries for more alcohol from every corner of the room, and he could see the two receptionists on duty nursing headaches.

Grimacing, he shoved his way through the press, and popped out on the other side, the force sending him slamming into the reception desk. He managed to protect himself a bit, but there would likely be bruising, so he cast a healing spell while looking at Sherry, the most familiar face among the present receptionists.

She took a pull on her pipe, looking at him in bemusement, and he asked, “Do you happen to know where Fade is?”

He had to shout to be heard.

An amused expression appeared on Sherry’s face, and she pointed with the end of her pipe into the middle of the overcrowded bar. He wasn’t tall enough to see over the crowd, and hopped up to sit on the desk. It gave him the extra bit of height he needed to see Fade, Verity, and Mortimer engaging in a drinking contest. Well, he assumed Mortimer was participating. He’d already passed out. Completely red in the face, Verity clashed mugs with Fade and they downed another round while the crowd cheered.

Crimson grimaced at the realization that Verity would be horrible to deal with tomorrow. He didn’t know any spells to cure hangovers, and wasn’t aware of any existing. It might need to be something he invented. Later though, he had a miserable journey to make.

He hopped off the counter and nodded at Sherry before turning to shove himself back in the crowd. It was a horrible journey, all of his senses were assaulted. The rancid smell of body odor mixed with alcohol made him nauseous, and the loud noise induced a headache that worsened to the point of making him even more nauseous. He was running into people constantly, and the swirling press of bodies were a bit disorienting. It was also extremely hot, which was just insult to injury.

Eventually though, he managed to reach his [Healer] and her drinking buddies.

He gently rapped on Verity’s skull with a knuckle, causing her to sputter, spilling drink down her front - some of it came out her nose.

She turned, furious, eyes watering, and came up short when she made eye contact with Crimson. He was giving her a very pointed gaze, and for as socially dense as he was, even he could see the guilt cross her face.

He thought she’d given up drinking for a while, but it seemed that old habits were hard to break. If she would binge drink like this as a result of her abstinence, moderate drinking would be better. He’d leave her to make that decision though. So long as her actions didn’t harm him or any of their future party members, he was willing to step back and not say anything.

Not today though, they had commitments tomorrow, and she was taking herself out of commission.

She shot him a last hopeful look, which he met with apathy, so she turned and finished the last few sips of her mug. Once finished she tried to stand, but Crimson had to brace her as she stumbled. This was easily the most drunk he’d ever seen her.

Members of the crowd near them booed Crimson as he started to lead her away, but some of them chose to make room for him instead, allowing him through. After just a few steps, he turned back and glanced at Fade, who was looking at him of the edge of the mug he was drinking from. He made a gesture, inviting Fade to follow them, which he considered for a moment before saluting with the mug in acceptance and following. His steps weren’t unsteady like Verity’s.

The crowd let him through, and he was grateful for it. He had no idea how he’d force his way through while also hauling Verity. It was hard enough on his own. The vacated table became a battle ground as people rushed to fill the empty seats, which cleared ever so slightly more space for them to move.

Once they broke out, Crimson happily took a deep breath of the cool evening air, grateful to be out of the crowd.

Fade leaned up against the wall by the door, and said, “This about your offer?”

Crimson nodded, grateful he picked up on it so quickly.

The taller man gauged him with heavy eyes, then said, “I am…considering it, but you need to know a few things about me before I take this step.”

He leaned Verity up against the wall, then sat down next to Fade, who slid down next to him. Verity was still coherent, enough so to be considered an active part of the conversation, but he wasn’t expecting much of her.

After a moment, Fade said, “First of all, I am half-Uluu, half-human. A Chimera, and a bastard Chimera at that. We’ll save my sob story for later, but it should be easy for you to understand that I’ve spent my entire life being mistreated. I…hated everything, for most of my life. My entire world was a prison that hated and mocked me at every turn, but I still have a dream. I want to love this world, and who loves the world most? The one who saves it. I want to be a hero.”

Fade turned to Crimson, meeting eyes with him, and continued, “If you can swear to me that you’ll help me with my silly, childish dream, then I’ll pledge my axe to your cause.”

While Crimson didn’t have [Eyes of Will] anymore, even he could see the dead seriousness in Fade’s eyes as he mentioned his dream. Though he called it childish and silly, he clearly didn’t feel like that was true.

Crimson couldn’t fault Fade’s dreams. He at least had one, which counted for a lot. Even if pressed, Crimson couldn’t come up with a dream any more powerful than wanting to become stronger. It was admirable to see this kind of raw belief right before his eyes, so he nodded at Fade.

“Sure, I don’t see why there’d be a problem with that. I’m the one who scouted you out and asked you to throw away years of work, I’m willing to make more concessions if you want me to, but my requirement is that you never give up. We will reach Lv.100, and we need to be very powerful when we do so, no false ranking. I can’t lose reliable comrades to sloth or indifference, if you do take my offer, you need to be committed.”

Crimson was showing a bit more bravado than he felt. If Fade turned out to be a disappointment, he’d readily abandon him for another. The same was also true for Verity, but he knew her, and knew that he would never be forced to do that. She’d demonstrated that much to him when he’d tried to turn down her request to join him.

Fade looked at him quietly, nodded a few times, and said, “Very well then, I’ll accept your offer. My axe is yours. You help me become a hero, I’ll help you reach Lv.100.”

Verity leaned past Crimson, and said, “Don’t forget your determination. Working with Crimson can destroy you if you aren’t careful. I’ve seen it a couple times, he has very high standards. That said,” she grinned, “welcome to the team!”

Crimson nodded and murmured, “Welcome.”

Fade looked at them, a whirl of emotions crossed his face and he bowed his head for a moment before looking up once more and saying, “Thanks, it’ll be good to work with you.”