Even though the late summer sun was shining nice and brightly outside, Haze of Bright Evenings, priest of Discord and ostensibly a junior elder of the Mirrored Mountain sect, made sure to slide every shutter and door thoroughly shut, activating the privacy enchantments of one of the few townhouses in Convergence which the sect owned as soon as the last of the three women had entered. And even though he had been warned beforehand of the particular eccentricities of these mercenaries recommended to them by their allies in the church of Disguise, Haze couldn’t help but shudder a bit as the three women turned identical faces towards him. Each of them looked like identical human women, their faces petite with huge doe eyes and lips painted a sharp red, and each seemed to give an identical smile as the three silvers no doubt sensed his discomfort.
“Are you the one who will direct us, little bronze?” one of the women asked, Haze mentally labeling her as number one as she stood to the left in their neat little row.
“I am,” Haze retorted, drawing himself up.
“And you will get us into the sect at the appointed time?”
“I will. But you will be handling the disguises and-”
Three identical laughs interrupted Haze, who clamped his mouth shut in indignant embarrassment, glaring as best he could at the mercenaries.
“Little bronze, I assure you that you will not need to worry.” Number two said, a condescending smile teasing scarlet lips.
“We will handle things as agreed to the contract offered to us.”
“And it will be public?”
“That it will. At the day of the clashes, as instructed.”
“And no one will-”
“-doubt that it was the guild, choosing to take things further,” number three said, finishing his sentence. “Or at least it will be obvious enough to excuse any and all retaliation you would want.”
“Good… Good. The strife that will come of this will please my god and our interests. And the challenge will be the best and most public spectacle available in a long time. We need enough damage in one swoop so that any further claims will just be swept up in the conflict, church of Truth be damned. I will prepare routes of retreat for you. As a junior elder, there isn’t that much else I can do to keep the actual sect warriors off your backs. There are plenty of hidden nooks up in those mountains.”
“Then we have an accord,” all three of the mercenaries intoned as one.
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“It would seem that you have gained a bit of a following,” Kite noted with not a small amount of amusement as Soul joined him in front of the guildhall. Behind her, looking at her retreating back with awe, stood a group of four iron-rankers and two bronze-rankers.
“They will have to work hard, very hard, if they want to stand before Warrior with pride in their hearts. Can’t just let them stumble about as they were,” the celestine replied, a pulse of her aura giving off the feeling of sharply looking over her shoulder with a judging gaze. The spiritual nudge was all the irons and bronzes needed, their trance broken as they threw themselves back into the sparring with great fervor.
“Well, each time you’ve spared them a word or three, there has been clear improvement. Rarely have I seen a bronze-ranker so happy to be knocked around,” Kite said as the pair rounded the house to find a sparring yard of their own. While it wasn’t roomy or durable enough for the two silvers to go all out, the open space behind the main house and the compound’s outer wall still served well enough for some closer melee practice. It even sported some obscuring formations, courtesy of Braid, which made sure that any spies would have to come very close indeed if they wanted to glean anything from the upcoming spar. “Maybe Soul, blessed by Warrior, will add ‘vaunted mentor’ to her list of titles?”
“The road to perfection does not have time for such diversions,” Soul retorted quickly, adding some emphasis to her protest by throwing the first punch, Kite’s staff whirling in a series of attacks and blocks as the pair started their exchanges. He had to keep his mantle active from the very beginning, the spectral arms being the equalizing factor which meant that Soul could really let loose and find herself under actual pressure from the way Kite had learned to interweave attack and defense.
“And yet you’ve found yourself back at their side again and again,” Kite jibed. “Not that I’m complaining though. If the occasional pointer from you will nurture some more champions of the guild to take up challenges and more direct combat situations, Warrior and you will both have my most sincere gratitude.”
“Distractions. Fight like you mean it, Pathbreaker,” Soul said tersely, stepping up her speed and coming at him with renewed focus.
“Oh, I am. Maybe me pointing out that many a sage has found teaching others to be the way forward for their own paths, finding insight in the development of-” he began, pausing to sacrifice one of his spectral arms to block a particularly impressive strike from the celestine, her hand shooting for his chest like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. “- others lesser than themselves is just a distraction to throw you off balance ever so slightly? But I do believe it to be true. One of my earlier masters, Unyielding Soul of Stone, sought his own insights that way.”
“Or maybe someone seeking such an option is only doing so out of desperation, their path having reached something insurmountable that they are too weak to conquer.” Soul countered, punctuating each word with a strike, the flurry only ceasing when Kite did prove his words a distraction. Using all of his spectral arms for defense for a moment allowed him to deliver a surprisingly simple thrust of his staff straight into Soul’s sternum, Disrupting Strike suppressing the passive ability increasing her speed.
“My path will find perfection on its own merit,” the celestine continued, changing tactics in a fluid instant to compensate for her lowered swiftness as Kite went on the offensive. “It is the only thing I need to reach the heavens.”
“And would it be anything less than a testament to the strength and prowess of your path if sharing only glimpses of it will uplift others and foster new warriors to spread the very same god’s purview?” Kite countered, sensing that, while Soul’s physical guard was like an impenetrable wall, his arguments were finding purchase in her mental one.
“At least show me your own might before starting to plan the rise of others,” Soul called, ending the argument with a counter-offensive so abrupt and forceful that Kite could only do his utmost to hold on. Back and forth they went, silence now reigning between them as both had sunk into their combat meditations; Kite working further to incorporate the direct and the simple into his strikes, the assurance that any strike would hit as long as timing and target were correct, while Soul in turn started meshing yet another of her many martial arts into the comprehensive monster that was her style.
She had even gladly told Kite about it during previous spars; how each new style could bring something. Sometimes a whole set of stances and motions, sometimes just a slight shift to a bent knee in a certain set of movements. “Perfection is found both in the whole and the details,” Soul had lectured, probably the most passionate Kite had ever seen her outside of actual, challenging combat. “You cannot neglect any part of it, or you neglect a chance to advance even the slightest hair’s-width on your path.”
And even as he fought for all he was worth, Kite couldn’t help but to admire the amethyst-haired celestine, her motions and spirit so united as she sought her own truth in the world and the strength to turn it into terrifying reality. And as usual, Kite couldn’t help but speak his mind.
“You truly are impressive, Soul, blessed by Warrior,” he said once they gave each other a shallow bow of respect, the spar ending in a draw slightly skewed in Soul’s favor as she was unable to utilize her greater speed and footwork in their current confines. “If perfection is ever attainable, I have no doubt that you will reach it. Or at least spend eternity trying. Just don’t neglect yourself as part of the world while reaching for the heavens. Every warrior needs a battlefield to be part of. Earth on which to ground their stance.”
Soul gave only a snort in recognition of his statement, but as her aura told a different story, Kite quickly said his farewells as he left by entering the guildhall through one of its back doors facing the sparring yard.
As she walked back to the front of the guildhall, one part of her mind processing the lengthy spar, other parts of Soul’s thoughts seemed to have meandered off elsewhere into reflections and ponderings more unconscious than not. Fingers twitching in responses to imagined blows and correction to said blows, a discordant glimpse in the corner of Soul’s eye caused her bubble of reflection to shatter.
One of the irons, while trying to follow her advice from earlier, had started showing a slight tendency to lean into her swings just a bit too much. While not egregious, it was something that could and would turn into a bad habit difficult to shake down the line, and Soul was already halfway across the yard, correction forming on her lips when she realized what she was doing and froze.
None of the lower-rankers had yet to notice her, Soul’s silver-ranked aura currently averting notice when they were engrossed in their sparring. Had they looked her way, the internal struggle inside the celestine would have been visible to everyone as slight twitches and almost imperceptible shakes as words spoken not long before had started to seize ground in a mind that had thought itself closed off and impervious.
Completely unknowing of their idol’s inner turmoil, the irons and bronzes continued their sparring, and when the younger woman once more leaned into her swing in the very same, slightly overextended way as before, whatever resistance Soul had managed to muster towards the verbal sappers slowly digging their way into the fortress of her mind crumbled before the frustrating display before her very eyes.
“Heavens curse you, Pathbreaker,” was all Soul muttered before she let her aura wash outward, the guild members in the courtyard suddenly very aware of her presence, her call like divine judgment held above their heads.
“What in the name of Warrior most high was that?”
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Dancer on the Broken River, adherent of Pain, took some pride in that she did, in fact, not lash out and crush the stone in front of her into fine gravel. It was an old thing, made mostly smooth by the wind and stream from which it was jutting during past millenia. And it would have been so easy for river to break that smoothness, chains tearing it into fine pieces while River imagined it to be the very image of the god Discord. But River’s father had taught her better. She was to be collected, sharp, focused-
“You totally wanted to smash that rock just now, didn’t you~?” a squeaky voice asked from the side, and it didn’t even twitch as River whirled on it, glaring silent daggers.
Seeing that the priestess hadn’t risen to the jibe, Wander continued. “I get it. You’re frustrated. We wanted them to know more too. But there’s plenty of other, better ways to let out such frustrations. Some like meditating. Or maybe fighting a monster? Knitting? Oh, maybe find a guy, gal or both and reeeeeeally just get into it for a while~?”
As River just stood there, almost translucent hair falling across a face torn between a stiff outrage and disbelief, the rat - as always - took the silence as River’s blessing for her to continue.
“But you don’t seem like the cuddly type, eternal vengeance and all that. I mean, sure, some people might really enjoy that ‘chain and pain’-thing you’ve got going - which would be a great name for a side business by the way, should you ever want to go semi-legit - but I could see most having a problem with it. Iffy consent is never a good basis for relaxation. But wait, how old are you? Somewhere close to Kite? And you’ve been on this crusade ever since the fall of the Unbreakable Chains sect? Have you even- wait, no, don’t tell me– are you a virg- eep~!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The chain had been fast as it descended like a lightning strike from above, chunks of the smaller stone upon which Wander had been perched spraying everywhere along with the tumbling rat, her ranting musings now interrupted. Another chain shot out and snared the rodent, janking her small form close to River’s now even more intense glare. Things were also made much, much worse as the voice of Pain rang out in River’s mind, full of amusement.
“Ah, the delectable pain of embarrassment. It has been a long, long time since you last gave that to me, little one.”
River’s first impulse was to squeeze, conjure the barbs along her chain and rip the little thing to pieces. It was just a part of the whole after all, easily replaceable. But she did not. Instead, she took a moment to center herself, before slowly depositing the rat down on the remnants of the stone upon which she had been sitting earlier.
Even if the thing was disposable, River still needed to cooperate. Because even if the two priests she had captured so far had known little, it was still two priests of Discord removed from the board. And River would be damned if she let her potential chance of finding a third within the Mirrored Mountain sect be lost just because of her own lack of discipline.
“Why?” she still asked, a bit of remnant frustrations still leaking into her flat voice.
“Why what~?” Wander retorted cheekily.
“Why are you like this? Your ‘observations’ contribute nothing of worth. You are an observer to liaise with me; a temporary ally. You needn’t interact with me. You shouldn’t interact with me. There is no point. No purpose.”
“Oh? Maybe I just like talking. Talking is fun, after all. And I see so much at the same time, that a bit of venting is almost always needed. Wouldn’t want to go crazy, after all~” Wander squeaked in reply.
“And yet your words only seem to make you look more so,” River retorted. “I truly don’t understand you, myriad one. You speak oddly, act oddly and your aura feels equally odd. Blessed Pain, you even smell oddly. Like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“Well, maybe it’s just part of my charm,” the rat replied, striking a mock-suave pose on the rock. “And maybe you just need to see more of life and broaden your horizons, crazy priestess. But letting loose isn’t your strong point, isn’t it? I mean, you didn’t even slip once while extracting what you could from the two priests - horrible yet hauntingly competent show, by the way - so I wouldn’t put it beyond you to simply never be relaxed. Glad that you are at least a silver-ranker, otherwise your shoulders and neck would be stiffer than a diamond ranker’s-~”
Embracing the pain of surrender, River simply let the rat before her glide into some startlingly vulgar comparisons before finally managing to bring the conversations back on track.
“Is the annoying one and the rest at least ready to travel to Mirrored Mountain soon?”
“Yep~,” the rat squeaked happily. “They leave in a day, so I thought to tell you in advance. Getting into position and all that. Oh, speaking of positions, if things are really as dire as it seems for you, there is probably a lot that you should know-~”
Having actually gotten the information she needed, River easily let the rambling rat go on her lengthy musings while she started making her preparations. One more sect remained, and River suspected that at least one priest or priestess would be found there. And with the pace of the guild’s challenges, hopefully they hadn’t even caught on to the fact that they were being hunted from within the very shadows which they hid in.
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Centering himself, Haze of Bright Mornings took one final look around before sliding the door open to one of the inner disciple’s abodes. This particular small house was empty, its occupant having been recruited to join one of the sects closer to the heartlands, and would remain so a few more weeks as the current students of the sect vied for the now empty position. But said house was not empty, as three identical women waited for Haze, turning to look at him simultaneously in that most uncanny fashion upon his entering.
“Your spirit is uneasy, junior elder,” one of the mercenaries told him, scarlet smile unwavering.
“The bouts have begun, and unfortunately ‘my’ dear sect has so far been frustratingly unable to solve my problems for me. Just one of the elders winning would have made my day much less tense,” Haze muttered after making sure that the door behind him was thoroughly closed. The risk of someone listening in was completely negligible however, as all of the sect was gathered at the arena to witness the spectacle.
Mirrored Mountain sect housed the most prominent dueling arena in the region, after all, carved out of one of the adjacent mountains to house almost all of the local inter-sect tournaments. And as they too chose to rise to the guild’s challenge in order to once and for all prove their superiority, housing the clashes and any spectators there was the natural option.
“Then we are to strike as agreed?” another of the women asked, and Haze could only steel himself and nod in response.
“Yes. I have prepared one of the side entrances into the stands of the arena where the junior elders are seated. They are either bronze or irons, and will fall easily before you while creating more than enough outrage for a swift, unbridled response. Show me your disguises,” Haze said, trying to keep his tone of command even in the face of the higher-rankers.
His efforts did receive a quirked eyebrow in return, but the three women all started changing soon thereafter. It was an eerie process to watch, their faces seemingly rearranging themselves while clothes shifted and changed. Haze was unsure if the transformations were due to actual transfiguration, illusion or both, but he had to admit that the now green-cloaked figures who prominently bore the crest of the Autumn Wanderer’s guild all felt most convincing as local members. Even their auras changed, giving off the feel of outraged firebrands who would see victory seized at any cost. Their looks didn’t match any actual known members, but Haze didn’t think that would be needed either. Better to have them identifiable enough while remaining nondescript, leaving the guild as a whole to take the upcoming ire.
“They are… passable,” he said, containing his shudder. “When I left, the one called Pathbreaker was about to start his bout with the sect leader in a quarter of an hour. Wait around five minutes here, before you make your way to the entrance specified in our arrangement. Do whatever you must, as long as it's public enough, then retreat along the route I provided you through the old escape tunnels.”
“We have already walked this sect and know the route,” the third woman said, waving away the scroll which Haze offered containing the details. “Be on your merry way, little priest. We trust that the second half of the payment will be waiting for us as agreed upon.”
Haze didn’t need to be reminded twice, saying a prayer to Discord as he left for his own quarters, where his things were already gathered. It was time for the junior elder Haze of Bright Mornings to perish in this most dastardly strike by the guild, and for him to be given both rewards and other assignments. Maybe even-
Haze paused and turned, smoothly conjuring his short, curved bow as he drew and fired. And while his bronze-ranked body wasn’t very swift and precise compared to that of a silver, it was more than enough to hit the rat scurrying across the nearby yard. The pitiful thing gave off a pained squeak before its insignificant aura vanished, and Haze only sighed at his own twitchiness as he let the conjured bow disappear.
“Center yourself, Haze. Acting in haste like that might cost you much in the future,” he chided himself, hurrying off.
This did mean that he soon passed out of line of sight from the dead rodent and the remaining arrow, which would dissolve soon enough on its own. Except that if, by chance, Haze would have turned to take another look, he would have found the rat gone, the dissolving arrow lying discarded among the neatly trimmed grass.
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“Ow. Owowow!~”
“What?” River murmured to the rat hiding out at the nape of her inside the hood she wore.
“Crazy bastard. Just shooting a poor little rat like that~,” Wander continued, grumbling. “Lucky us that I’m so very good at using my aura to feign death, or we would have lost one of the bodies in here with us.”
“And why exactly would that be an issue? You are myriad,” River asked forlornly, more focused at suffusing her aura out through the sect in a way that would let her detect others while staying hidden herself. That particular feat had taken much, much training, and her god had hinted that it required particular strength and finesse of spirit to even attempt. It did let River sense the few remaining people still remaining in the sect proper, with the absolute majority long since in place at the arena across the huge stone bridge. But River’s focus was shattered when Wander gave her answer.
“Because it would take a while to sneak another in here or replenish it, and I might lose track of the guy who is probably our hidden priest~,” the rat squeaked with her usual singsong nonchalance.
“What?” River almost called out loud, suffocating her own outburst to a hiss as she came to a stop atop the tiled roof which she had been traversing. “Where? Give me a direction!”
“Not so fast. I overheard him talking with some other, creepy silvers. It sounded like they were planning some kind of sabotage directed against Kite and the guild, impersonating members and doing some pretty mean stuff. You gotta stop them first~.”
“Irrelevant. I am only here for my quarry,” River shot back, even as she remained as still as a statue while doing her own sweep for whoever Wander had indicated.
“And I’m here to help Kite, a friend~,” Wander shot back. “We can’t just let them take a cheap shot like this. You can stop the silvers first, then go after the priest.”
“No.”
“I still have a body tailing him, hence the need to keep it intact rather than just let it explode when hit with the arrow. Take out the impersonators, and I’ll lead you to him, even if he goes outside the sect~”.
“This was not our deal.”
“I was never part of any deal, crazy girl. We helped you get in here as agreed. Me tagging along and helping with communication and tracking is just me being nice. But do I get a ‘thank you, Wander’? No, because whoever thanks the rat~?”
“I will-”
“-do as I ask if you want my help. You might be able to find him on your own, but is it really worth it when I can make it a guarantee? And besides, don’t pretend that this little cooperation hasn’t been helpful to you. Is it really worth letting the guild potentially get swept up in whatever they have planned instead of keeping them as potential allies in the future~?”
Wander’s singsong voice had gone surprisingly tense, and River was suddenly all too aware of the sharp claws and teeth so very close to her neck. Even though the little rodent was only part of the whole, the steel in her odd aura was uniform enough. Centering herself, River pushed away the frustration that told her to just throw the rat down the nearest chimney and set off on her own. Instead she thought, weighing Wander’s words against her objectives and her long-term quest that had felt like a fruitless, drawn-out search for so, so long.
“Fine,” River finally said, the word clipped and flat. “You swear to uphold your end?”
“I do~.”
“Then lead me to them. I’ll handle what I can, but I won’t put my extraction or ultimate goal at risk. If they get somewhere too public, the annoying one and his guild are on their own.”
“Good enough for me. Then go north three streets over, then west. With your scary senses, you won’t miss them~.”
River was already off before Wander had finished her sentence, shooting from one roof to the other through the basically abandoned housing district of the Mirrored Mountain sect. Powers from both her adept and dance essences had always let River find sure footing, be it in combat or while running at breakneck speeds. The same set of powers and skills let her keep that very speed even as she veered off against a trio of silver-ranked auras moving at a sedate pace through the sect, retracted far enough so that most other silvers probably wouldn’t think much of them at a spiritual glance. But River was not just any other silver-ranker, and she felt both their presence among other things.
“Such flimsy attempts at likeness and misdirection,” she inwardly scoffed as she felt the trio’s auras. Choosing a nearby house - a large one which seemed to be some communal eating area that was currently empty - River vaulted in through an open window at the back and stopped in the middle of the room, glancing at the surrounding pillows spread around two dozen low tables.
Another subtle surge of her aura confirmed that the closest other person except her three targets were at least three houses away, River stopped in a ready position, like a grim statue completely at odds with the otherwise warm, utilitarian room.
“Pain, I dedicate my actions to you,” she murmured under her breath, pausing for just a moment before nine chains materialized around her, winding themselves around her form even as they shot out towards the sliding walls on the opposite side of the room where a trio of shadows had just moved into sight, silhouettes barely glimpsed beyond the closed drapes. Said silhouettes became a lot more distinct once River’s chains easily punched through the flimsy sliding walls, winding themselves around one of the silver-rankers on the other side and yanking them inside in another, bigger burst of splinters.
The victim was pulled halfway into the room, ravaged by the reddish-purple sparks of pain coursing along the chains, before ‘she’ managed to get free, even though River’s senses had already made out enough to know that her eyes couldn’t be trusted with these. This was proved doubly true as the means of freeing ‘herself’ was by turning into a fleshy mass which flowed around the snaring links, even if River prided herself that the process took a lot longer and was a lot more painful than usual, courtesy of one of the powers of her chain essence.
The other two silhouettes, identical women to the one reforming off to River’s side, entered the building a breath after their companion, and River noted with some satisfaction that they chose to enter through the already made hole rather than just plowing in through the wall, all but confirming that the trio also had a bit of a vested interest in keeping themselves as unnoticed as possible.
“Rude. And most unwise,” the reforming mass of flesh said even before it had completely regained its form, the trio apparently content with talking while spreading out in the room to flank the lone priestess of Pain.
To their credit, the trio acted the moment they were in position, shooting in towards River with all the speed their silver ranks could muster. And in turn, River gathered her spirit into the naked blade that was her signum, chains coiling around her, as the dancing homage to her deity began.