“How’d you like the smoking room?” I asked, glancing back at Lito as we exited. “We put it together just for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said, sounding doubtful.
“Only the best for sensei,” I said. “Of course, I’d prefer the guests to smoke outside, but–” I gestured vaguely at the walls. “There’s no outside in here. So, smoking room.”
“Hm,” Lito grunted. “Thanks, I guess.”
“It wasn’t much effort on our part. The Ravvenblaqs provided most of the furnishings. None of the cigars in the humidor are even mine.” I paused in my tracks. “Do you think they’ll charge me if somebody smokes one?”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To my bedroom.”
Myria threaded her arm through mine. “I assume it’s for business reasons,” she said as we started walking again.
“It’s always business in the bedroom,” I said. “I take my sleep very seriously.”
“That’s new. I thought you slept half as much as me.”
“I’m reformed. Skipping out on rest was degrading my performance.”
“Why are we going to your bedroom?” asked Lito.
“A servant dropped a napkin,” I replied. He frowned but waited for the rest of my answer. “Before that, he tried to blend in with the Ravvenblaq staff and did a full sweep of the mansion. No one else has been through the hall, and the napkin disappeared.”
“I’ve worked with less,” said Myria. “Who’s the servant with?”
“The Heronwytes.”
Lito’s fingers drummed along the head of the war hammer hanging at his belt. He was one of the few openly armed guests, aside from the guard.
“Sounds like they were delivering information,” said Lito. “It happens all the time at these things.”
“Hopefully it’s that innocuous.”
“Any reason you think it isn’t?” he asked.
“The king told me the Heronwytes were petitioning for my extradition and execution.”
Lito scratched his jaw. “Not to impugn the king’s honor, but the man has his own agenda.”
“You think he was bending the truth?”
“I’m sure that some dumbass Heronwyte drafted something like that,” he said. “The houses aren’t monoliths. The politics inside a major house are almost as fractious as the politics between them.”
“So, I’m not being targeted by the Heronwytes, but a Heronwyte?”
Lito shrugged. “Who knows? The Heronwytes are deeply involved with auctioning Creation Delve slots. Somebody’s losing money because there’s eight of the damn things now, but that’s not enough to drag an entire house into a frenzy.”
“What would the king gain by putting us on a collision course?”
“Expose bad actors in Hiward, evaluate your response to threats, alleviate his boredom, I can keep going if you want.”
“No, I get it. I wasn’t taking the warning at face value, but I appreciate the additional heads up.”
“You’re so casual with your sedition, Lito,” said Myria.
“I don’t play favorites.”
“It’s the king,” she said. “He’s your favorite by mandate.” Myria let go of my arm and placed the back of her hand against my chest to halt me. She stepped forward to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner, then came back. “May I cast Disregard on you?” she asked.
“Don’t want people paying attention to me?”
“Everyone here wants a piece of you, Arlo,” she said, pulling a dark slate from her inventory. She fiddled with it for a moment, then glanced up. “It’ll be easier to move around if we aren’t constantly being stopped. That’s a yes?”
“Sure, no problem.” She stored the slate and touched me on the chest again. A tingle and a notification let me know the spell had taken effect. “What were you doing with the slate?”
“Letting Director Aprogar know what I was casting and why. His people are monitoring all spell use.” She looked me up and down. “Mind losing the boa? The spell works better if you’re unexceptional.”
I reluctantly removed the boa and stored it in inventory. I could practically feel some of my swagger drain away. Myria smiled and took her place beside me again.
“I’ll lead,” said Lito.
We followed Lito as he stepped out of the hall. He led us on a slightly circuitous route, making use of the portals connecting the rooms to avoid areas where people were congregating.
Myria and I chatted idly as we went, though Lito was entirely focused on the way forward. It was nice to catch up with old allies, and the pair looked like they’d been doing quite well for themselves. Both were now Level 15, a big jump from when I’d met them at Level 10. Myria snorted when I pointed that out.
“Five levels in two years,” she said. “Yes, very fast by normal human standards. You should be careful who you compliment for their leveling speed, though. Someone else might think you’re being patronizing.”
“I really didn’t mean it that way,” I said.
“I know,” she said, patting my arm. “My mom thinks that I’ve been working myself to death. Imagine if she found out you’d gotten twelve levels in the same length of time.”
I’d only met Myria’s mother once, and briefly at that. I wasn’t aware she’d have any opinion on my whirlwind Delving career.
Speaking of meeting someone’s parents, now might be a good time to point out that–despite what Grotto said–Myria wasn’t my ex. Not really. We’d never officially been dating.
It’s complicated.
I would describe my past relationship with Myria as being friends with extremely casual physical boundaries. After the ordeal with Orexis and The Cage, we’d undergone an intense series of interviews with Hiwardian officials. While I’d later come to rely on Varrin for most of my guidance on interacting with the Hiwardian government, the big guy was in a bad way after seeing his father murdered. Understandable, to say the least.
Myria ended up being the person to coach me through a lot of it. She was also undergoing the process, having been a part of the entire expedition, and some bonding happened over how much of a pain in the ass the whole affair was. Once we were done talking over every minute detail of the harrowing events with the Hiwardian G-men, the pair of us spent a lot of time talking over how we felt about it all with each other.
Myria was a great listener. She asked the right questions at the right time, she was empathetic, she didn’t judge, and I will admit her stunning appearance went a long way toward making me want that connection. It was easy to feel comfortable opening up to her, and I genuinely believe she wanted to know me. Not for a job or other utilitarian reason, not to manipulate or betray my trust, but because she actually cared and enjoyed my company.
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The thing that kept it from going any further was that, while Myria was very good at getting to know someone, it was difficult to get to know Myria. She was guarded, she never shared stories about her childhood, and she avoided talking about anyone in her family other than her mother. She would tell you what her emotional reaction to something was but deflected any questions that dug into why she felt that way. I didn’t resent her secrecy. I wasn’t entitled to anyone’s life story, but I never got comfortable enough to share my own ‘unique’ backstory.
Eventually, we hit a wall. We knew each other well enough, but it wasn’t going anywhere. I was spending most of my time with the party, training and Delving, so our rendezvous became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. There were no big arguments or hard feelings, not even a calm agreement to move on. There wasn’t a real beginning, and so there wasn’t a real end.
Now, we chatted as comfortably as any other time we’d met. Was there some lingering discomfort or regret on Myria’s end? I didn’t know. Given that it was Myria, I’d never know, unless she decided to tell me. For my part, I was sad that it hadn’t worked out, but I was happy enough for things to be business as usual.
We passed through the dining room, the only occupants a pair of servants setting up for lunch, then through the ballroom where we interrupted a couple speaking in low tones, giving one another sultry looks. A quick jaunt down a side hall led us to a guest suite that connected to a bath, the bath adjoining another guest suite on the other side of the mansion. This spat us out a short walk from the master.
“You know these junctions as well as I do,” I said as we slowly approached the double doors to my bedroom. He gave a patented Lito grunt in reply, his eyes crawling over everything in the hall. “How are Ember and Cole doing, by the way?”
“They bought a vineyard,” said Myria. “Their break from Delving has evolved into a retirement, I think.”
“As long as they’re happy.”
“They aren’t,” said Lito. He moved on to studying the doors. “Cole spends every hour of the day managing the vineyard while Ember does her best to drink it dry.”
Myria’s ever-present smile faded at the comment. “They’re still having a hard time moving past Ashe’s death,” she said. “You should visit sometime. Maybe seeing that you’ve out-leveled them will be inspiring.”
“As long as you think I’d get a positive reception.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m a survivor of the same traumatic event,” I said. “It might revive some uncomfortable memories.”
“You’re overthinking it. I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.”
“Whenever I’m in Hiward with some free time, we can take a trip out there.”
“Free time?” asked Myria, looking skeptical. “Since when do you give yourself free time?”
“Like I said, I’m reformed.”
“When was your last vacation?”
“I spent a month in the Third Layer a year or so ago.”
“Hmm, that sounds nice. What did you do while you were there?”
I shifted on my feet. “Petitioned a goddess, trained my martial skills, helped dream forge a new hammer. There was plenty of recreation in between though.”
“And yet you add that as an afterthought.”
“What can I say? I like my work.”
“The hallway hasn’t been tampered with,” said Lito. “The area in front of the door has lingering traces of Divine mana. The Dimensional mana in here is thick enough to mask it, for the most part.”
“What does that tell us?” I asked.
“Lots of things,” he said. “But not enough.”
Lito carefully touched the right door handle, then pushed it open without entering. The door swung inward, revealing my bedroom in perfect order. He spent some time looking around, and I did another sweep with my Sight for good measure; still nothing unusual. After a minute passed, he entered and began walking around the room. Myria and I stayed in the hall until he gave us permission to follow.
“The wardrobe’s been moved,” Lito said. “Mind if I look inside?”
“Go ahead. I don’t keep anything in there.”
He ran his hands along the outside of the wardrobe, then opened it up. He spent some time going over the interior, then fully removed each drawer on the bottom half, stacking them by the bed once he was done.
“Move it out from the wall,” he said, then looked conflicted for a moment. “Please,” he added.
The wardrobe was awkward to pick up, but I grabbed it by the sides and carried the 200-pound piece of furniture away like it was made of cardboard. Lito took some time to study its back, then squinted at the exposed wall. He pulled out a small pouch and pinched some fine, sparkling powder from within. He tossed it at the wall, and a three-foot-diameter ring of runes appeared.
“Would you look at that,” I said.
Lito held up a hand to stop me from approaching as he stared at the sigil. It was a series of concentric circles made up of the runic language. I recognized several of the symbols, but many more were unfamiliar.
“Have any thoughts on this, Grotto?” I thought to my familiar.
[Blood will be spilled for this vandalism.]
“Right. Insights into what this weave is doing?”
There was a beat of psychic silence. When Grotto started to deliver his findings, I noticed Lito’s brow furrow and Myria took a step back, hand dropping to her side where she normally carried her rapier. She caught herself once she realized Grotto had simply barged into her thoughts, and that we weren’t under attack.
[The outer three rings are designed to obscure the weave from notice. The fourth ring draws in and condenses Dimensional mana from the surroundings, feeding energy to the other rings to enable their function. The innermost ring sets the boundaries of the weave’s primary effect, limiting it to sapient entities within the bedroom. The central sigil establishes a teleportation function.]
“So, it’s a stealthy kidnapping enchantment?” I asked aloud.
[That is a crude abridgment, but accurate enough.]
“This is intricate work,” said Lito. He pulled out a reed and placed it in his mouth, starting to chew on the end. “An expert put this together. Only two Heronwytes came with the king, and neither has the skill set to pull this off. Not unless they’re much better at hiding their talents than I thought.”
“What’s supposed to trigger it?” I asked. “Do we need to make a hasty exit?”
“It’s not going off anytime soon,” said Lito. He glanced at Myria, who already had her slate out and was presumably communicating our findings to Aprogar. Satisfied, Lito returned to the sigil and pointed at the fourth ring. “This is a poor man’s script,” he said. “The weave is powered by ambient mana, rather than by using a mana chip. It only gives a trickle of power, so it’s rarely used that way. In Hiward, at least.
“Since there’s no chip, the mana density in the weave is much lower, which helps it stay undetected. It’s used a lot in combination with effects that activate after reaching a specific mana threshold.”
“A timer?” I guessed.
“Right. The mana density is a long way off from activating an involuntary teleportation effect.”
I looked at the sigil more closely, focusing on the mana running through it and flexing my underutilized Mystical Magic skill. It was only a trickle, and I could spot a small concentration in the central runes but had no way of confirming what Lito had just told me. I’d have to trust him.
“Director Aprogar is coming to take a look,” said Myria.
“Alright,” said Lito. “Let’s take up positions outside. The King’s Guard has people built for disarming these types of things. It may be connected to another weave we haven’t noticed.”
“How did this get here without anyone realizing?” I asked. “We’ve got a close eye on everything happening, and the place is full of high-level Delvers.”
“I can think of a few things,” said Lito. He ushered me toward the door as he spoke. “Most likely, the napkin was a disguised divination beacon, which would explain the traces of Divine mana. The servant took a voyeur on a tour of your estate, then dropped the beacon in front of your room, where it was used to coordinate some long-range spellwork. The beacon could have been cannibalized for materials to make the weave.” Lito looked up and down the hall, then lowered his voice. “The real hitch is that Director Aprogar didn’t detect whatever happened.”
“Then no one ever entered the room,” I said.
“Probably not. There are countermeasures to this type of thing, more robust than what a mobile King’s Guard unit can put together on short notice. They may not stop someone with this level of skill, but it’d at least make it a headache for them. I’ll pass along some security texts I put together.”
“I’d appreciate that. What’s our next move?”
“Myria and I will talk to the Lord Director,” he said. “For now, you should get back to hosting. Whoever’s responsible probably knows we’ve caught wind of this, but there’s no reason to make it any more obvious. The next step is to hunt for any more of these things and try to flush out the culprit.”
“I figured you’d want everyone to clear out,” I said. “If someone can lay down hostile weaves remotely, that seems like a major security risk.”
“Something like this wouldn’t even tickle one of the VIPs,” he said. “They have defensive trinkets that would cause the spell to fizzle the moment it found a target. Still, the King’s Guard may start slowly teleporting people out.”
I waited for Aprogar to appear, surrounded by a squad of the Guard, and added what I could to the report Lito and Myria gave. The Lord Director agreed I should get back to my business, but that certain of the more flighty nobles may find their way back to Hiward via one of his Dimensional specialists. It seemed like the weave was targeting me, not the king, so Aprogar predicted Celeritia would want to stay and finish chatting with the party.
I said my goodbyes and went through a few rooms to obscure where I was coming from when I re-entered the foyer. The gathering had been on too short notice for any of the guests besides the king to book me for an official meeting, so it was first come, first served.
Unfortunately, the first to come was Lord Leon Heronwyte, who didn’t seem happy about being ghosted.