Familiars were common enough in most cities of Verdantallis. They became more common when one found the familiar houses and factories hidden on the fringes of major cities. Anytime heroes gathered, familiars were also bound to appear. Whether they were the pet-like mender familiars or the intelligent mob-like familiars of magi and wizards, heroes liked to show off their friends.
Searching for a wizard’s familiar meant looking for the oddest of the bunch. Wizard’s weren’t tied to any elemental or demonic appearances like a magus, meaning the freaks often made more freaks.
Potilia had confirmed the long armed familiar was Natholdros’s as soon as she spotted the odd creature walking down the street. Its arms were twice the length they should be and dragged on the ground when it walked. If it stood on a chair, its hands would still touch the ground. The familiar had a box for a head with the top perfectly flat. Whatever mobs he had used to create the abomination weren’t obvious from an initial glance.
It took effort to create such an ugly creature.
“I had a feeling you were going to cause an issue,” Natholdros said.
Potilia swore in her head. Multiple times. Lots of swearing. She turned slowly while tightening her grip on the kanabo.
“She used Examine,” the familiar said. It waddled over, dragging its arms.
They were in the middle of the street. Any action on either side would raise alarms, and the last thing anyone wanted was Magna Regum getting involved.
“You were sent to stop the spies?” Natholdros asked.
Potilia nodded. She didn’t need to stutter or shout and draw more attention from passersby.
“There is a place up the street.” Natholdros took a step closer. He didn’t move all that differently from his familiar, but his arms were much shorter. His wand was in his hand. “A place with less eyes.”
She nodded again.
The old wizard led her down the sidewalk, not worried about having a berserker at his back. They both knew any violence would make it worse for the victor. As much as she would love to bash him over the head while he wasn’t looking, she would wait until they had an opening.
The place Natholdros had mentioned was a few blocks away, and the silent trek was as awkward as Potilia had expected. A tall series of buildings covered in old plaster formed a compound beside an expanse of ruins.
“A familiar home?” Potilia asked quietly.
“It is. Depressing places.”
“Sorry,” Potilia said to the familiar.
“He won’t end up there.”
The familiar nodded its square head.
“Okay.” Potilia lifted the kanabo.
“Were you raised in the sewers? No conversation? No civility?” Natholdros didn’t bother raising his wand. “I expected more from someone as infamous as you.”
“Y-you don’t know who I am!”
“No, but I have heard of the mysterious, somewhat legendary, spy assassin. It’s you, isn’t it?”
It was probably Caspius or Sylmare, but revealing their identities would only cause more problems for Potilia. No answer was the best answer. Right? She fought to keep a glare.
Natholdros raised an eyebrow. “You are an odd person.”
“Can we fight?”
“I only wish to learn about the goblin. There is no need to fight.”
“The Unity Force wants to kill Owin!”
Natholdros shushed her. “No need to yell.”
“There’s no need for you to be alive!”
A snort of laughter behind made Potilia jump and shriek.
Sylmare was sitting atop a pile of ruined bricks. She was relaxed, sitting with her legs crossed and her staff lying across her lap. “Is that the best comeback you have, Potilia?”
Potilia scowled.
“A friend?” Natholdros’s index appeared before his eyes. “Void Nexus . . . Another spy?”
“Not exactly.”
“I know my time is up,” Potilia said.
“Finish the job.” Sylmare gestured. “Wizard or familiar first?”
Wizard, obviously. But saying it out loud would only put Natholdros more on guard. Although, a smart fighter would already be on guard.
What would she need to kill a wizard? Getting close should be enough, but what kind of wizard was he? And what kind of familiar was the ugly little thing?
Bull Rush brought her face to face with Natholdros, just in time to catch a fist from the familiar. She stumbled and missed her swing. The kanabo smashed the bricks, pulverizing them into dust.
Bolts of electricity erupted from Natholdros. When three hit Potilia simultaneously, she was launched across the ruins. Each of the solid three bounces off the rubble felt like hammer blows to her ribs. She skidded and rolled to her feet on the opposite end of the ruins from Sylmare who watched with a raised eyebrow.
“Stormcaller’s Fury,” Potilia said.
Natholdros turned. His eyes shone blue as electricity still raged around him. The familiar stood at his side with its own storm aura.
Stormcaller’s Fury was one Potilia had read about plenty of times, but rarely saw. It was more like a berserker’s aura abilities than it was a normal wizard spell. While it was active, Natholdros would be faster and she would be bombarded by bolts if he got close.
Unfortunately, fighting a wizard at range was about the worst thing she could do. Especially against an electric wizard.
The familiar pointed its long arm at Potilia and launched Lightning, which she was far from fast enough to dodge. The bolt hit her directly in the chest, launching her back into the half wall behind her.
Bricks tumbled as she went straight through the ruined wall and hit the dirt in the space between ruins and the familiar home. Dust hung in the air as she groaned and stood.
She couldn’t get close to the wizard, and if she stayed at range, she was dead. A few ribs had broken, and a deep breath did a great job confirming that.
“Damn wizards,” she muttered as she climbed the foundation back onto the ruins.
“You are more resilient than you look,” Natholdros called.
Sylmare hadn’t moved an inch. The Void Nexus hero didn’t even bother to change her expression. Wry amusement.
Could Potilia pull out her stronger techniques? Yes.
Did she want to? No.
For a number of reasons, really. Nobody liked how they looked when using transformations. Hideous, hairy, and horrible. And, more accurately, she would need transformations when fighting Sylmare or Caspius, and the cooldown would waste her strongest abilities on an old wizard and his ugly assistant.
All she had to do was take the range away from him and find a way to get through the storm aura. If she ruined his focus, he would lose the spell. All he had to do for now was focus and allow his familiar to launch the attacks. A solid blow to the forehead would disrupt any spell.
“What is it going to be, Po?” Sylmare called.
Lightning relied on a direct path to the target, otherwise it could easily be diverted. That was the weakness of the spell compared to something weaker like Bolt that would always fly in a straight line.
Ruins had dust that could easily be stirred up. There was already a thick cloud hanging in the air behind her from the wall she had fallen through. It was easy enough. Well, no. But she would make it work.
Potilia hadn’t focused nearly as much on weapon abilities as other berserkers she knew or had read about. Most were body and weapon focused with maybe one aura to help control the battlefield.
She had eight auras, and planned to choose more as she continued to level up.
Battlefield Quake was a nightmare to use when fighting alongside someone, but in a solo fight, or one where she was outnumbered, it had its benefits.
Her foot immediately felt heavy. Lifting it strained her thigh, but upon stomping down, the entire foundation of the ruins shuddered and cracked. The layer of dust and debris all across the ruins lifted into the air as the ground shook.
As soon as the aura was released, her foot was as light as ever. Potilia bolted straight for the wizard, who was a beacon in the dust as blue lightning continued to flash all around him.
The familiar launched another Lightning, but it hit something in the air and bounced to the side. The creature quickly used Bolt but such a weak spell couldn’t stop a charging berserker. It hit Potilia’s arm, tearing her jacket and ripping through some skin.
She activated Revenge and immediately felt a surge of energy. With the hits she had taken, her next swing would be strong enough to cleave the wizard in half. Unfortunately, one couldn’t heal while Revenge was activated. Fortunately, she had no plans to heal. Not until she was ready to fight Sylmare.
Battlefield Quake continued rumbling, causing the ruins to shift and collapse, but only the initial quake was strong enough to keep dust in the air. As it quickly settled, Potilia lifted the kanabo and activated Tectonic Impact.
A straight charge to Natholdros would give him an easy counterattack. One more distraction, one more disruption to his view, and she would be ready to kill him.
Tectonic Impact’s strength was entirely dependent on the strength of the swing. With Revenge running through her body, her swing couldn’t be anything but immensely powerful.
She smashed the kanabo against the ground, completely shattering the entire foundation. She fell a foot as everything nearby was pulverized into dust. The ruins had been over a hundred feet long of partially standing walls and piles of bricks, and within a second, all of it was dust.
Spells flew wildly from the familiar.
Natholdros was too stupid or too confident to stop using Stormcaller’s Fury. He was only using it to stop her from getting close, which was a waste of its benefits.
And Potilia was way too stupid to avoid the lightning. What was it going to do? Shock her?
Each point of damage she took only made Revenge that much more deadly.
She appeared out of the dust, right into the lightning aura. Electricity coursed through her veins, sending explosions of pain. Potilia gritted her teeth and swung the kanabo sideways, smashing the metal spikes into Natholdros’s ribs.
All of her power went into the swing, powered by Revenge and her anger, fury, and other synonyms for the same emotions that clouded her brain. She let out a roar as the kanabo completely pulverized Natholdros’s chest. Her swing carried through where his heart and lungs had once been and smashed against the familiar’s box head. The blow launched the familiar through the dust, sending its corpse vanishing somewhere into the city.
Hopefully somewhere not populated.
Stormcaller’s Fury vanished immediately, leaving Potilia splattered with blood, standing in a silent dust cloud. Her breathing was labored as she forced the kanabo into the ground to help balance.
Revenge shut off, flooding her with even more pain than before. She reached back for the one health potion she had and . . . it was broken. After bouncing off the ground a few times and breaking through a wall, she guessed it would make sense.
That put her in a rough spot for the next fight. The inevitable next fight.
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She walked away from Natholdros’s corpse and sat down. Both halves leaked blood, which the dust hungrily absorbed.
Sylmare sat nearby. “You’re sloppy.”
Potilia laid back and groaned. “I don’t need a lesson.”
“If you didn’t kill him, I would have.”
Potilia sat up. “What?”
“Veph thinks the militaries are going to use Owin as a means to start the wars. They aren’t afraid of him. Not anymore, at least. They’ve been waiting centuries for an excuse. The hero companies might be the only buffer from all out war.” Sylmare adjusted the staff in her lap. “She wants military eyes off Owin.”
“They were going to execute him.”
“Taralim could’ve simply killed him if he had wanted. Chorsay is strong, but you were all outnumbered. The Unity Force was only trying to arrest him while they prepared their plan, whatever that plan may be.”
Potilia groaned. “Izylia doesn’t seem that hungry for war. Have you been spying on him that long?”
“Yes. It was Void Nexus who caused most of this, after all.” Sylmare stared with a blank expression. “Vekuborg has been doing some odd things as of late. I don’t know more. The goblin is a unique entity in the world, and right now, everyone wants to use him. Why would entire militaries be scared of a first floor mob? You don’t need a Shard Hero to defeat him. Not yet, at least.”
“Seems like there is a lot more to figure out. I did my job. Well, most of my job. What does Veph want with Owin?” Potilia slowly stood up, fighting to ignore the aches throughout most of her body. “When is this going to end?”
“If she told me that kind of information, I wouldn’t share it with you.” Sylmare pressed her staff into the ground and stood. “Are you prepared?”
“I could use a health potion, but I am guessing you would rather start now?” Stalling would help cooldowns, but not enough to really make a difference. Tectonic Impact and Battlefield Quake would be ready to go again, but Revenge had a twenty four hour cooldown. It probably stopped berserkers from killing themselves, but in cases like this, it would have been helpful. At least she could rage.
Sylmare raised an eyebrow. “I don’t carry health potions.”
“I thought maybe you changed that after I— you know.” Potilia shrugged.
“I—”
They both went silent as armored footsteps crunched on rubble near the street. Potilia recognized those steps. She wanted to pre roll her eyes. Sylmare flipped her staff around, preparing to fight.
“It appears I have arrived at the perfect time,” the man said. He stopped about thirty feet away and had his forever smirk twisting his lips. His brown, almost gray hair was blown back like a ridiculous mane, and his beard was trimmed, although stubble had already grown in on his cheeks. He wasn’t even that old. He just looked old.
Sylmare caught Potilia’s eyes. For someone who didn’t often show a lot of emotion, Potilia could tell Sylmare also wanted to roll her eyes.
The man looked back and forth between them. “Not even a greeting? After all we’ve been through.”
“Hi, Caspius,” Potilia said.
The damn Magna Regum spy was dressed in the most Magna Regum way possible in banded armor and a cape. Maybe in Minolitana Prima that made sense. Anywhere else, he would have stood out.
“Hello to you, Potilia.” He raised an eyebrow and looked to Sylmare.
“I know you heard our conversation.” Sylmare hadn’t moved an inch.
“Egnatia has been contacted by every country in Verdantallis. I don’t need to overhear your conversation to know the state of the world. As far as I am concerned, there are two possibilities. First, the goblin doesn’t care about the balance of the world and continues growing. Based on the information gathered, he potentially has no upper limit and therefore could become the strongest being in the entire world. If he gathers all seven shards and wishes for something peaceful and goes about his life, perhaps that doesn’t matter. But is that likely if he has gathered the vitriol of humanity or is he likely to wish for something that could have adverse effects on us?”
“He wants to stop conflict,” Potilia said.
“If he becomes the strongest ever, he could stop conflict just by threatening to intervene. The wish is another issue that I am assuming is unpredictable in reality. Only the goblin knows what he would wish for.” Caspius rested his armored palm on the pommel of his rapier. He stood casually, as if he wasn’t ready to draw the sword and stab Potilia in a million places until she couldn’t move.
“He has a name.”
“I’m aware.”
Sylmare finally shifted, turning to fully face Caspius. “And what’s this second possibility?”
“The goblin’s existence creates two main factions. One that supports his existence.” Caspius nodded toward Potilia. “And one that doesn’t.” He nodded to Sylmare.
“Leave my opinion out of this,” she said.
“The factions would view each action taken for or against the goblin in a different light, and conflict would soon arise. This would soon create friction across the world. Egnatia thinks this is more likely, and has suggested the countries could attempt to bar entry through their portal cities, effectively making it impossible for the goblin to access the dungeons.”
“She suggests that while he is already inside the Ocean.” Cooldowns were done. Potilia was ready to bash his skull in.
“Exactly. If the Harmony Unit wants to stop his passage through Strobukha, it could create an interesting scenario far from us.” Caspius’s smirk grew.
“This is . . .” Potilia scowled. “This is—”
“A waste of time,” Vondaire said.
All three spies shifted stances, prepared weapons, and turned to the umbra sitting on a stack of bricks nearby. All the rubble had been shattered in the fight against Notholdros, so where had the bricks come from and how did they get stacked so nicely?
Vondaire pulled the cork from a bottle of wine and poured four separate glasses. He set three of them on the ground before him while he gently swirled the burgundy liquid around the fourth. He sniffed it and took a sip. “A port is so distinct that one cannot help but appreciate its profile.”
Caspius took a step forward with his rapier pointed directly at Vondaire’s face. “Who—”
The shard hummed as it lifted from Vondaire’s right shoulder. Potilia’s eyes widened as the silver shard hovered in the air. He had gone through the Ocean so fast. That was impossible.
“You wouldn’t have been a challenge without the shard, and I can assure you it would be a waste of my time to prove it. Besides, a little spat might spill some of this beautiful port, and I think you could all use a moment to appreciate the situation in which we find ourselves. Indeed, I am impressed with myself. In one afternoon, after getting the shard, I was able to get some wine, a nice meal, and find the infamous hero company spy killers.” Vondaire let the shard drop back into his shoulder. “With the familiarity in which you three speak, I assume you have decided not to slaughter each other for whatever reason, while the half of a wizard over there was not spared the same privilege. Neither were the Golden Bulls that Potilia killed and burned, or the Freedom Corps spy that you executed with that rapier.”
Potilia caught Sylmare’s eye. Neither of them had known of a Freedom Corps spy. Sylmare would’ve said something if she knew the Brukiya military was in Minolitana Prima.
Caspius’s index covered his face. “You’re also a Nimble Hog?”
“No,” Sylmare said. “He’s a Unity Force soldier. Part of an elite squad.”
“Ah, do not underestimate the appeal of a military salary. But alas, that contract is done and I am a Nimble Hog out of necessity. You should both be aware of how welcoming Chorsay Eoghet is compared to your leaders. Would either Vephthru Veriss or Egnatia Lucan support one of their own becoming a 7 Shard Hero?”
Neither answered. It was an obvious answer. Hero company leaders wanted to be the strongest in their company. Who would help someone toward all seven shards? Maybe one, but seven? Never.
Vondaire appeared directly beside Potilia. She screamed and swung her kanabo, entirely out of instinct. The umbra grabbed the weapon and gently lowered it. He held out a glass of port until she took it.
“I didn’t suspect you were a killer.”
“T-there’s a lot!” She shrunk back and chugged the whole glass.
Vondaire pressed his lips together. “You would be better to savor it. A lot of what?”
“Things you don’t know,” she said quickly.
“I assume there is plenty I have yet to learn. As far as educating myself is concerned, I have learned quite a bit today. So, here is the situation. You two are going to leave,” he said, pointing at Sylmare and Caspius.
“This city is my home,” Caspius said.
“These ruins do not look like the home of any Magna Regum hero to me. I assume you have a residence you could return to, so as to not bother me while I await my comrades’ return from the Ocean.” Vondaire vanished and appeared next to Sylmare with another glass of port.
She quickly took the glass and sipped without a word. Vondaire smiled and vanished, reappearing directly in front of Caspius, so the rapier was pressed against the skin of his neck.
“Take the port, savor it on your walk back home, and do not leave until I bring Owin and Myrsvai back through the portals. If you leave your home, I will know.” Vondaire shoved the glass into Caspius’s hand, spilling some over the rim. He vanished and reappeared on his stack of bricks.
“Egnatia will not allow you to control me.”
Vondaire poured a new glass and sniffed it. “Egnatia Lucan, 4 Shard Hero, leader of the Magna Regum Hero Company.” Vondaire sipped his port. “Delicious. If a figure as important as Egnatia can bother to confront a lowly 1 Shard Hero like me, I would be delighted. I do have to inform you that she may reconsider threatening me upon learning more.”
“You think you’re more powerful than a 4 Shard Hero?” Capsius laughed.
Potilia caught Sylmare’s eyes again. They had spent hours talking about how much they hated that laugh.
Sylmare’s expression shifted.
They would have fought. It was tradition. Did it matter who would win? Not really. Neither would have walked away without injuries, but both would live. All the spies that mattered were dead and wouldn’t be bothering Owin or passing any information along.
Fighting Caspius was a pain, but fighting Sylmare was a good way to test her talents, to hone the timing of her abilities. There was some disappointment in missing the opportunity.
But . . .
Vondaire was an unknown, unpredictable player in their little game. How did he find them and what did he know? What was he going to say to Chorsay? What would he do to Sylmare?
Sylmare took a drink of her port, lifted her glass, and nodded to Vondaire. “Thank you.”
“Tell Veph that her plan to raise Shard Heroes is . . . hmm.” He tilted his head. “Let’s say, unwise. It makes it appear as though she is preparing for something. She would be better off bankrolling untethered heroes that cannot be traced back to Void Nexus.”
Caspius glanced at Sylmare.
“I will pass along the message.”
Vondaire raised his glass toward her. “I will see you back in Atrevaar, I’m sure.”
Sylmare finished her port, set the glass down, and departed without a second glance.
Vondaire watched her until Sylmare vanished, either becoming invisible or teleporting. It was really impossible to tell with umbras. Potilia had no doubt that Vondaire could tell exactly what was happening, but he also would just act like he knew even if he had no idea.
“Now, that leaves you.”
Caspius had yet to relax. His rapier remained in his hand. If he intended to fight Vondaire, Potilia couldn’t imagine the thin sword doing much good.
“How have I not heard of you before today?”
“It is, perhaps, because you are ill equipped for your role. Or, it is because I am more qualified to be a spy than you could ever hope. Who other than Magna Regum would ever hire a soldier as a spy? Look at you, wearing all that metal. You clank louder than a pot bouncing down the stairs. A berserker is an odd choice with the mess they make of every fight, but at least Potilia is unassuming and bland.”
She scowled. “Hey.”
Vondaire shrugged. “I could kill you before you even finish a single stab with that flimsy sword. And even if you did stab, it would not pierce my skin. At no point in this encounter was I worried about you. I am trying to be kind. I have done some heinous things for the Unity Force, and other than Potilia here who burns down entire blocks—”
“Hey.”
“I am trying to follow the Nimble Hogs’ good example of kindness.”
Potilia couldn’t force the scowl from her face, but he did have a point. She absolutely killed more heroes than anyone else in the Nimble Hogs, and that was a good thing. She did the dirty work so they could help people.
“I can’t let this go,” Caspius said.
Vondaire was immediately in front of Caspius with his shard humming in the air. Potilia couldn’t even follow the movements. Had Vondaire teleported or simply stepped over to Caspius?
Vondaire turned his back to Caspius and looked over the rapier’s blade, which he held casually in his gloved hand.
Caspius, wide-eyed, looked at the bladeless hilt in his hand.
“It is time for you to go,” Vondaire said.
Potilia let out an involuntary laugh as she noticed Vondaire was also holding Caspius’s glass of port.
Caspius took a step backward. “I—”
Vondaire appeared directly beside him with a fog-like knife in his hand. “Run.”
Caspius turned and bolted.
Vondaire watched for a few seconds before casually walking back to his stack of bricks. He poured Caspius’s glass into his own. “You were hiding this from me.”
“Uh. Ah.” She also wanted to run. “Only Chorsay knows!”
“Head back to Atrevaar. Inform Chorsay that Owin is progressing well. He should be somewhere on the fifth floor at the moment. Myrsvai too, though I am admittedly less interested in his progress.”
Potilia nodded.
“I will be awaiting their arrival and escorting them back to Atrevaar.”
“W-what if Egnatia—”
“Magna Regum is going to leave me alone. Whatever these machinations are forming throughout the world, Egnatia is not going to be the initiator. Veph, perhaps.”
Potilia nodded. She sighed and turned to leave.
“Do not trust your friend.”
“Who?”
“Void Nexus. Veph is not trying to prevent a war. Her interests are entirely her own. She is selfish and arrogant. Unless you inhabit her mind, you cannot guess at what she is planning. I am certain the spy passed on what she was told, but that doesn’t mean she had heard the truth.”
Would Veph lie to Sylmare? It didn’t seem likely. Sylmare was more than just a spy for Void Nexus. She was Veph’s right hand.
Potilia looked over her shoulder. Vondaire sat on the bricks with his black and yellow eyes watching her.
“Whose side are you actually on?”
“My own,” Vondaire said. “And for now, our interests align. As annoying as I find Owin, I will not let any harm befall the little idiot. I protected him once already. That should be enough to prove my word.”
Potilia nodded.
“Enjoy the port.”
She set off into Minolitana Prima and sipped port, staring into nothingness. By the time she started to think again, she remembered she was splattered in blood, both her own and the wizard’s. It was too late to do anything about it, and based on Vondaire’s confidence, she had a feeling she would find a way to walk through the city unimpeded.
Who was he really?
She looked over her shoulder, not surprised to find the ruins empty. Was he still close enough to watch her or had he vanished altogether?
Her mission was done, and her injuries were minor. At least more minor than they usually were after a battle against Sylmare or Caspius. She would call it a win, though it left a sour taste in her mouth.
Or maybe that was the port. It was terrible.
***
Viscera hung in the water at the top of the stairs. Bits of armor and shattered weapons lay across the wooden ramp, also splattered with gore.
It wasn’t the scene Owin had been expecting, though maybe it should’ve been based on all the explosions.
“You could feed a family of four with all this meat,” Shade said.
Owin smacked the skeleton. “We don’t know who this is.” At least he knew it wasn’t Myrsvai or Suta. None of it matched their gear.
The ramp was wider than he had expected. It was dozens of feet across as far as he could see, where the ramp rounded the seamount. Various wooden barricades and boxes formed obstacles on the ramp, which seemed out of place until Owin spotted a group of figures huddled behind a barricade.
Three grenades exploded, one after the other, on the opposite side of the barricade. The wooden wall withstood the explosions without any visible damage, fully shielding the figures.
“I can’t tell who that is.” Owin squinted. There were four people, but at hundreds of feet away, he couldn’t make out many details. None were Suta. They weren’t small enough. But was one Myrsvai?
Shade leaned through the doorway, waved some viscera out of his way, and squinted his eye sockets. “Surprisingly, I can’t tell either.”
“We should help.”
“How are we going to help?”
More grenades exploded on the other side of the barricade.
“One of us will think of something on the way.”
“It won’t be me. No brain, remember?”
Owin sighed, stepped around the remains, ducked underneath the floating gore, and set off toward the figures. Shade walked right through and sputtered as he spat out chunks of flesh.