Payment

Akamori and the squad returned to the Adventurer’s Guild hall to turn in thier job for payment. The administrator, a dwarf with a rosy complexion, greeted them jovially and set about processing their payment. Morwen saw to coordinating the administrative elements while Akamori drifted off quietly. Yasiin followed close behind with Amara.

“What’s eating you?” Yasiin asked.

Akamori shook his head. Confusing marring his expression. “I’m not sure. What we did out there? This contract? This is what I’ve dreamed of doing my whole life. Going to new places, seeing crazy new things and making a difference. A real difference.” He added with a pointed look at Amara.

“But I also know how bad things are out there. Ominek is still making life hell for people that aren’t Sauridius. There’s a war on freedom of the sector, and here I am wishing I could just run off and be an adventurer.”

Yasiin and Amara leaned against a wooden rail on a balcony with him. Thanaton thrummed thoughtfully at his back. Being soul bound with him, the blade knew his thoughts as though it could hear him speak them spoken aloud. Morwen strode over from the countertop and gave them a nod.

“It’s a difficult spot to be in. Knowing what brings you peace and honoring your responsibility and duty. I don’t envy you the feeling. But perhaps I can at least ease the burden for you.”

Morwen held out a leather bag cinched shut by a leather cord. The bag jingled as she dropped it into Akamori’s palm. When he tugged it open enough to peek inside, he blinked at the volume of golden coins inside marked with the Adventurer’s Guild seal.

“These are Guild Marks. Roughly worth two standard credits. Their use is admittedly limited, but it is possible to spend them on items and then sell those items for their actual value. A practice many go about.”

Akamori looked up from the bag back to Morwen, brows furrowed. “How much is here?”

Morwen shrugged, a coy expression on her normally disciplined veneer. “More than I can count, I’m sure. You took a job to tackle an Icon after all. And you finished it where most others fail. The squad and I agreed since it was your ability that allowed us to resist the Icon’s enslavement, that the lion’s share should go to you. I know it doesn’t go far towards easing your conscious about the Seraphin that fell to Seraphina’s control, but it can at least help you going forward.”

He pushed the bag back, but everyone put a hand out to resist. Morwen shook her head. “No. I’ve denied you the life you wanted. The least I can do is repay you for the service.”

His expression twisted as protests bubbled up, only to be stomped short as Amara interjected. “Don’t fight this. We all talked about it and agreed. Besides, if this is the life you want, there’s no reason we can’t start saving for it.”

He turned to Morwen, who smiled coyly. “No, Lieutenant, I haven’t examined the future to see if we leave. Let’s just say I’m making a wager on ourselves. The Federation is strained, and I suspect we’ll carry on the fight beyond its banner.”

He smiled sadly. Deep down, a disconnected part of himself knew that the life he wanted would always be just out of his reach. The best he could hope for would make do with the fleeting moments of happiness he got. Making those precious few moments stretch as far as possible. He gave them all a thankful nod, biting down his protest and instead letting them have their win.

“Thanks you guys. I appreciate this. I’ll set back what we make from this to buy out our contracts. Then we can operate how we want, with no one coming along and giving us shit.”

Sirsir coughed loudly, “Rayshe”.

The squad shared a chuckle. Finding out their former squad mate’s father had been a soul shackled thrall for Ominek had gone a long way to easing the wound his legal escapades caused everyone. The blowback they all suffered for being Morwen’s soldiers. Yet they wore the black mark proudly. Akamori fished a mark out and grinned.

“Who wants some grapes?”

#

The Elder Tree

‎ Now

Space warped and a void portal opened, disgorging a man in a black robe with a red mask. It denoted him as a leader among his people. Those charged with the only true task of meaning. The restoration of creation and their fallen civilization. He supposed that made him the inverse of a death cult, even though he fit the bill for visual styles of a death cult.

He strode the chaos of the Elder Tree after the mage squad had blasted their way through and destroyed the Icon of Light. A disappointing development, if unexpected. Had the Adventurer Guild not dispatched their own, it was likely the Federation would have responded with force. He could only count on them being distracted for so long before they moved, eventually. He would push them, but he wasn’t willing to risk their full ire yet.

A second portal opened and a second masked and hooded figure eased through the opening before it winked shut behind them. He turned and nodded his head in respect.

“Alethia. It’s good that you came. You can see firsthand the results of what you’ll soon face.”

Though her face was obscured by her black mask, he noted the subtle twitch of her lips, showing she was less than impressed. A hint of arrogance? Interesting if ultimately inconsequential. “If facing a single Icon and a horde of thralls was barely within his capabilities, why are we so fixated on stopping him?”

For the first time, Zeretheus forced a patient smile. Alethia wasn’t challenging his decision, merely voicing an obvious inquiry. He had to keep that context in perspective. It was easy to forget that sometimes some questions needed to be asked for everyone’s sake.

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“Because. He is a former council member.”

There was a measurable delay in Alethia’s response, and he recognized that for what it was. Realization. Alethia now understood that their foe was dangerous, and not just lucky. But then, their target had always been dangerous, and thus, a taxing source of focus with each resurrection in the cycle.

“Xanofex numbers among the living once again.”

Alethia mouthed the word “betrayer” with reverence and, for an instant, Zeretheus felt a measure of pride. He smiled ruefully. There was a time once, beyond the beginning, back when there was only the First. Xanofex had been a friend then. A peer, unrivaled. Even then, Xanofex had been flighty, but he embodied the absolute best of being a hero. It didn’t surprise Zeretheus in the least that Xanofex had risen up from the afterlife to oppose them.

“What is our plan?”

Zeretheus stroked his chin for a moment. “Unchanged for the time being. Xanofex’s power is still infantile. I arranged a small test for him and the results have left me unalarmed. For now, we keep enlarging the wound in reality.”

“A small test?”

Zeretheus nodded. “I encouraged the Seraphin. It was in their best interests to create an Icon. It measures Xanofex, and furthers our primary goal of enlarging the wound.”

Alethia looked at him sceptically. “An Icon? But surely the Seraphin of any wild tribe would know of the taboo of creating an Icon?”

Zeretheus smirked, recalling how much work it took to convince the Seraphin to waste resources on manifesting an Icon. “Some were more pliable than others.”

Then

“Sauridius’ children now threaten your world. How long before it turns its malevolent gaze upon you?” Zeretheus asked.

The Seraphin elder seemed troubled. He was old and wise enough to know that summoning an Icon wasn’t a better fate. But if they were to surrender their minds, would they rather do it to a god of their design? Or an alien and unknowable elder god who cared little for them? It was a damned situation to be in. One Zeretheus had orchestrated to place the Seraphin in this very situation.

“If we’re to lose our minds. Better it be to a god of our choosing. One that will act with our best interests in mind.” A younger elder suggested.

“Of course. Sauridius will care little for your people. He sacrifices his children like pawns. Imagine the horrors he would inflict on a wild tribe rich in light magic like yourselves.” Zeretheus instigated.

“The masked one speaks the right of it! He nearly sacrificed his own son on our world. Even Ominek would have died for Sauridius’ own gain. We can’t let our people become slaves to a monster like that.”

“We must bring back the lady of light. She would safeguard us in our time of need.” a junior seraphin leader shouted.

“A goddess to fight a god!” another shouted.

“But we have allies in Eryn! We don’t need to resort to such a destructive and resource consuming method!” The elder called. Clearly trying to bring reason to a passionate debate. These mortals were all the same. Willing to do anything to escape their fate and carve just an inkling more of life out of their tiny insignificant existences. Zeretheus praised himself for the amount of composure he maintained in their presence.

“Surely a god of your own would prove just as valuable an ally as any aid the elves might render. Have they not left you to your own devices while they live in their golden city?”

“Again, the masked one speaks the truth!” another junior leader called out. The passion of youth fast drowning the wisdom of age.

Sensing they outnumbered him in the decision, the elder bowed his head, nodding grimly. He alone understood what Zeretheus had maneuvered them into committing to. He almost pitied the poor old fool. Surrounded by passionate but simple youth, no wiser to the doom he was committing them to. Their magic would make a decent investiture to the cause and all for a negligible cost.

“At what cost do you offer us this aid?” The elder asked, weary for the other shoe to drop.

“Why, no cost at all? I come merely to provide aid in this most desperate of times. The gods are rising. And it is better to have a god than not. Rather than request a cost for this service, I’ve come with a gift. I know that aether crystals are difficult to come by, so I offer you this service free of your own resources.”

“Why?” the elder asked, disbelief and skepticism warring for dominance.

“Because a calamity approaches. Our world will be torn asunder. When it does, only the gods will have the power to prevent its collapse. I merely wish to ensure the best possible chance of survival after all.”

It was a boldfaced lie, of course. No amount of Icons would stop anything. In fact, the opposite was true. Having more running amok would simply mean exacerbating the wound in this shadow of reality. One more sacrifice on the altar of necessity. One step closer to their goal of reunification. Repairing damage of this nature was a messy business after all.

Zeretheus swept his hand, channeling the magic, streamers of light, air, and earth all flowed out and conjured rows of boxes all containing fully charged aether crystals. Enough artificial power to manifest a small god, or goddess, in this case. Zeretheus smiled inwardly as he noted the awestruck looks of all the fence sitters. His grand gesture having made their minds for them.

“We can begin whenever you’re ready.”

“What do we do?” The elder asked.

“Pray. Commit your worship to whichever god you worship.” Zeretheus said.

The Seraphin all fell to their knees. Hands clasped and heads bowed as they fell into prayer and chants. Zeretheus smiled, drawing the ritual circles necessary to manifest the Icon. In time, a false god would rise, and it would offer all these seraphins as sacrificial offerings. More aether and souls ground up to the cycle for the cause. All in an effort to increase the size of the wound. Speaking of, he made a note to check its progress when he finished.

‎