I didn’t get every question answered. Not even close. But I know enough to make a few decisions. Whatever my feelings toward Ember as a person are, she is right. This country, both of these countries, need liberation. Quite a few places do, if they are herding us like sheep to play hapless townsfolk for their fantasy-fulfilment. I need names. I need details. I need to know every single person I need to kill to free this world from the vise grip of pathetic authority. I also need to get stronger. The kings I sacrificed so much to kill were the mages they successfully suppressed and controlled for a thousand years. Well, maybe. I know their control was still effective in ways. At the same time it’s possible the royal family’s power grew to exceed expectations as the Radiant Woods cut us off from direct access. But that only begs the question of how they maintained control. My head hurts. I’m tired, angry, and scared.
“What’s the plan?” Sara asks. “Do we just . . . do the same thing as last time?” I shake my head before I answer. I start using steel mana to summon the new jewelry I want to use to aid my further growth. Little weapons I can use to bridge the gap. I speak as the rings form.
“It won’t work. In a sick way, we got lucky in Potestia. They controlled their entire population with divine magic. Anyone will lash out against that kind of direct, forceful manipulation once they have room to breathe. It gave the kings of Potestia more obvious control. But it was also erasable. Freeing Potestia was like unlocking a literal chain. But this is a republic. I don’t know about the council lands, but this is going to be much more difficult.”
“But they are being controlled here, too, aren’t they?” Sara asks.
“Well, yes,” I concede, “But it’s not the same. It may be with people like Ember, agents they actually expected to encounter me, but the average citizen? Stealing people’s grief is an entirely different can of worms. First of all, it’s not safe to rip that band-aid off right away. Grief wasn’t meant to build up and hit like a truck all at once. You are supposed to feel and process through it over time. If we just tear that wall down without a plan, it will break people. Besides, some people may actually feel grateful to not feel grief. I don’t know if they have therapists here, they didn’t in Potestia, but . . . many people won’t realize the damage its absence has done to them. All that pain at once? They won’t join hands with the person who handed it to them. They will hate me. Hell, they have already been conditioned to.”
“But we can’t leave them this way either,” Sara protests and I nod in agreement.
“We can’t. But we need to figure out a way to do it safely. I just . . . don’t know how. How could I? We need time. But that’s not the only problem. LIke I said, it’s a republic. Which means the culture probably isn’t built with the commoners fighting against the nobility. It’s citizens fighting against each other over which rich asshole they want to rule them. Thousands of ideas. Thousands of tribes. And while a lot of people will hate individual sages, they will offer their loyalty to others instead. A republic is a country run on a popularity contest rather than lineage like a monarchy. Everyone will live in ideological wars with each other while their oppressors treat their competition like a colleague they are competing against for a promotion,” I explain.
Sara furrows her brow. “So we are unlikely to easily build communities out of regular people this time. That makes sense. I am a good sage, though. Maybe some of the leaders here are as well. Couldn’t we start with them and the people loyal to them?” She suggests.
I am not excessively hopeful about that. “Well. We can check. We need to learn as much as we can about all of them anyway. There will probably already be groups and ideas who are benevolent and want the same things we do. Especially if stealing grief is a more recent act. Shit, I should have asked Ember about that earlier. I doubt we’ll find any supporters of any sage we can work with, however. If they are participating in the culture they are probably complicit in it to some degree. Authority structures are usually set up so you can’t advance in them without accepting their abuses on some level. And in my experience with elections . . . well, the most popular groups usually either actively want to kill people like us, or they want us to be quiet about being killed.
“In any case, there is no way to simply start hunting the rich. Rather than mind control they will likely have used manipulation. Otherwise they wouldn’t need elections at all. The wealthy will have fans among their victims. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t kill abusers all the same. But it does mean we will usually make as many enemies among the common people as allies when we do. That’s how they work. They give people teams to root for so they can feel like they are winning a competition. When they get exploited, the losers believe they can stop it by winning next time. And the winners? Well, sure they are still getting exploited, but at least their team is winning and they can gloat over the losers,” I groan.
“So it’s not mind control, but a type of control that looks like agency,” Sara scowls. “I am familiar with that, at least.” I can see memories of her time in the Radiant Woods flash across her face. The way it kept her there after she had learned to escape on her own. The way it sent the ‘monsters’ to kill me when I was there. She understands even better than I do.
“Just enough rope to hang themselves with,” I confirm.
“So. No plan yet, then” she guesses and I nod.
“No plan yet,” I agree. “First we learn. Then, maybe we organize. But we need a shit ton more information. And I need more power.” As I say this I finish the last of the rings. For my nose, lip, Eyebrow, and other similar ideas. I’ve even created new earrings. My limbs don’t have to be the only things that store power. The way I fought that creep earlier, that will make a huge difference. A few more trinkets like these and I’ll have a real advantage. “It has been an absolutely shitty day. I need to go blow off some steam,” I say.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Do you need any help?” Sara offers. I pause for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah, actually. I promised to meet up with our new friend, Turner. I suspect he has made some poor decisions recently and needs a friendly neighborhood feminist to show him the error of his ways,” I say. Sarafyna, my kind, gentle, slightly shy girlfriend gives me a grin too wide for the human face, displaying entirely too many teeth. She has enjoyed this part a little too much ever since escaping the Radiant Woods. I can hardly blame her.
“And what can I do to help?” she asks.
“Nothing much, just stay hidden and keep an eye on me. This creep already knows I can beat him in a contest of magic. He may pretend he thinks I was lucky or cheated or some bullshit, but he knows. I think he is planning to blackmail me, as my hastily built excuse does carry some contradictions. But if he’s not a complete moron, he’ll expect a violent response instead of compliance. Things could get a little dicey if he has a riot spike or something similar. Unless, of course, I have a great, powerful, sexy, hat-obsessed sage backing me up,” I say. Sara blushes a little but nods.
“I’ll keep myself scarce. Lead the way,” she agrees.
----------------------------------------
Turner opens his door with a smirk and invites me in. “I invited some friends to discuss the issue at hand,” he says as I walk in to find a large, gruff, human man and a Volo woman in leather armor. Interesting. I’d thought he was just a creep looking for a roll in the hay with a demon queen lookalike. For free, of course. But this doesn’t look like a particularly horny group. So what does he want then?
“A pleasure,” I intone, flicking my eyes back and forth as Turner locks the door behind him. They say nothing and I casually take a seat on a chaise to the side. “So. Let’s talk.”
“Yes,” Turner agrees. “You were going to explain why a whore has so much mana and why you were travelling on foot.”
“I prefer ‘sex worker’, actually,” I dismiss, beginning to pick at one fingernail as if bored. “And I’d be more interested in your story. Showing up out of nowhere. Travelling on foot, which you seem to find strange, to rescue a caravan just as it’s attacked. And you just happen to have ‘friends’ waiting for you at the first inn we stop at. What are the odds of that?”
“I don’t care what you prefer or what you want to talk about. We both know you’re not some common whore,” he says. “We have you outnumbered and, in case you are thinking you are strong enough to fight all of us, we already have your friend. Because you are right, I wasn’t there by coincidence. I was there on something of a . . . recruitment mission. And the woman you left, the ugly one, she’s already been recruited by now. The rest of my crew would have picked her up shortly after we left. I let them know about your high appraisal of her combat abilities via whisper. If you ever want to see her again, you’ll do as I say.” I hold my hand to my chest and put on an obviously mocking expression of shock.
“Well. That’s quite the pickle, isn’t it?” I respond. “Well. I suppose since you’ve got me by the balls here, you might as well tell me what you want me, and my very attractive friend for.”
“Still relaxed are you? You still think you can beat us? Or maybe you didn’t care much for the other woman. Alright, Nadine, go ahead and activate it,” Turner smirks. And, as expected, the Volo woman pulls a familiar looking spike out of her bag. It probably doesn’t work exactly like mine, but that is a riot spike. She activates it with her mana and I am immediately glad I took a seat. All of my artificial limbs go limp in an instant and I start to feel sick. “It cost me quite a bit to acquire this. Military grade and all. But I think you’ll find it’s quite effective. You may have stood a chance with magic, but now? You belong to us. You may as well accept it.”
“And what do you plan to do with me, then? Sell me? To whom?” I ask and he smiles. Behind him, a fleshy ooze slowly pours from the ceiling. It creates something of a meaty web behind both of Turner's henchmen. As two massive spider-legs extend from its branches on opposite sides of the room, I smile pleasantly at Turner.
“You’ll see when you get there. Let’s just say you are a far more lucrative catch than the mercs on the caravan were. The Lillith bit may even make you more valuable. They can sell that,” he says. In unison, two sharp, black legs impale two throats. It is quick and nearly silent. Fuck, my girlfriend is cool. Flesh surrounds the bodies, dissolving them and adding their mana to Sarafyna’s aura. As meaty talons descend from above to restrain Turner, I cross my human leg over my limp steel one. The foot hangs a bit awkwardly, but that’s alright. He looks like he is about to speak again when the talons grab his shoulders and flesh wraps around his mouth, suffocating and gagging him. His eyes widen in horror as I rest my chin in my human hand.
“Huh. I guess my friend made it here safely after all. How nice. So, Turner. You want to answer my question now? What was the plan? And, I’d prefer if you didn’t scream, although I don’t think it will do much. My friend, the ugly one as you rudely called her, is likely blocking sound with her Nexus energy. You know how sages are.” His eyes widen further and his struggling stops almost immediately. I nod and Sara releases his mouth.
“I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I never would have–” he immediately starts begging but I cut him off.
“What was the plan, Turner?”
“I– The Arena. We recruit gladiators. Usually from mercenaries and the like, but once you beat me, and bragged about your– about her honor, we thought you would be valuable,” he explains. I raise an eyebrow.
“Arena? Where is that?” I ask.
“You . . . you haven’t heard of it? How is that possible?” he asks and I sigh.
“Oh, so it’s common knowledge then. I guess that is all I need to know then. Well, that and where the rest of your friends are,” I respond.
“Th– They went ahead. To the arena. Or they were supposed to. Last I heard they were still looking for the– her honor. We didn’t know she was a sage. We didn’t know you were a sage!” he pleads. “And you– who are you?” His eyes fix desperately on mine and I give him a wide grin.
“Well. Who the fuck do I look like?” I ask. It takes him a moment before he realizes what I mean, and a minute is all he has left. Just as his mouth is opening in horror, Sara snaps his neck and begins to absorb him. As she begins collecting her body back into one place and deactivating the riot spike, I grit my teeth. An arena, is it? That’s problematic. Republics are already harder to start revolutions in, but if they openly have fucking gladiators? Well, the Overton window is already far, far wider than it should be. Sages and their games. People’s lives, games and entertainment. I have work to do.