Chapter Ninety: Over the Horizon
Val was too shocked by the clergywoman’s pronouncement to protest. Her mouth opened and closed several times.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” the woman said. Val numbly nodded her acceptance.
The old woman swept her gaze across the rest of the room. She stood ramrod straight. She had an aura of competence, not a skill, mind you, she was simply one of those people who exuded experience and capability. She spoke.
“Some of you will have come to know me, over the siege,” she began. “I am Inquisitor Candour. I hope there are no objections to me taking the position of Archbishop.”
Several of the clergy sitting behind her looked visibly uneasy. A few others gave satisfied nods, as if this was something they had persuaded her of. For that matter, Tom noted many people from the other factions nodding assent to the declaration.
“Your assistance was instrumental in fighting the Lord of Blood,” Director Steppenson said. “Without your little resistance, we would never have had the infrastructure or methods needed to survive his purge. You will find no objections from us.” He indicated the Administrators.
Every other faction quickly vocalised their assent. Candour gave a grim nod.
“I cannot say this is a duty I ever thought to take up. I believe we can make Wayrest even stronger- together. Ms Carver.” Val gave her a wary look. “I hope we can start this new era off on the right foot. If your people will be risking their lives in a war of extermination, I can offer some help. Or rather, the Artisans can.”
She gestured to a man sitting between the Church’s group and the crafters. He was nondescript, aside from the tattoos covering every inch of his skin. Tom had never seen anything like it. He looked out of place, like an easy mark trying to play the part of the mugger.
The man gave a small nod, but said nothing. Tom wondered what Candour had meant. He assumed she meant new gear for the Hunters. Most of the surviving members had master-crafted, enchanted gear made by Scriber and Cub, but any new recruits would need more.
Tom’s father stood and announced his desire to sit the Council. No one seemed particularly enamoured with him, but no one gainsaid him either. Two other nobles stepped up as well, Lord Courser, Ella and Gad’s father, and Lady Stone, the previous Stone’s daughter. They too, were voted in.
The Artisans were next. Two women were voted in, and after some long minutes and hushed, but emphatic conversation, the tattooed man stood and was voted in as well. He was apparently an enchanter by the name of Josep Scratch.
That just left the Healers, who deferred their nomination for candidates until they had the triage situation from the siege under control.
The rest of the session was spent putting preliminary plans in place, discussing how best to stabilise Wayrest and move forward.
The Hunters would spend the next short while recruiting. It was a novel idea to Tom, that people might want to join them, that they would not only be allowed to recruit, but encouraged to, even funded. Once the crisis had died down, and some Healers were free, they would begin exterminating the remnants of the orcs.
Everyone knew it would be the work of decades. The first few years would be the most dangerous, until they managed to stamp out the majority of the infection, but minor flare ups would continue until they managed to kill every last breeding pair.
The Hunter’s work had always been grim. Now, it was simply a different flavour. They knew what they were about. They would come out the other side of this even stronger.
The session was called to an end, but many of the attendees remained, talking quietly, discussing plans. Val was deep in conversation with Steel, Candour, Scratch, and a slightly overweight woman from the Watch.
Tom was just deciding whether or not to leave, when his father approached. He tensed, expecting a confrontation, and his mind cycled through the thousand things he had thought to say.
“Tom,” he said simply. “Your mother. Is she…?”
“Dead,” Tom said flatly. The question set him off balance. He had expected his father to immediately politic with him about the future of the city.
Lord Cutter, the man Tom had once feared so much, deflated. His eyes had deep, dark lines under them, and he seemed to have lost weight. Tom felt …not pity for the man, but not the hatred he was expecting, either. His rage ebbed.
“Were you… were you with her? At the end?” he asked.
The visceral image of the Smith’s knee impacting her face flashed through his mind. He suddenly felt his gorge rise.
“Yes,” he managed, but he said no more. His father’s eyes searched his face, and he seemed to take the intended meaning from the silence. His expression shifted, making room for more pain. The lines in his face deepened.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” he whispered. “It can never be enough, but all the same.”
Tom said nothing. Once more, his father read his expression. To his credit, he seemed neither to be seeking redemption or pity. He simply accepted Tom’s silent refusal.
“I’ve been thinking,” his father started. Then he trailed off. “I thought… It all sounds wrong. I hoped we could make amends. Like your mother. I see it isn’t possible.”
Tom continued to stare, his face a mask. His father nodded.
“For what it’s worth, I intend to do right by this city. Right by our House. I will never remarry. But when I pass, I leave everything to you. I plan to reinstate you. I thought you should know.”
Tom wanted to scream in his face that he didn’t need his help, that he could take his reinstation and go fuck himself, but he bit his tongue. Even through his grief, he could see his father was not doing this for himself. He was trying to do right by Tom while he could, even though he knew it wouldn’t make a whit of difference to their relationship. He was genuine.
Finally, Tom looked away.
He heard his father give a small sigh, and walk away. He had taken a mere few steps when Rosa spoke up.
“Lord Cutter,” she said. Something in her tone drew Tom’s gaze around. His father turned back to them.
“Lord Cutter… My family… do you have any news?”
Tom knew she had been anxious for them. They had not had time to look for them, after the siege, and thought the Council might be the best place to find them in any case. They had not been in attendance.
“House Raventos, correct?” he asked. Rosa nodded.
“When Tom dropped two orc heads on our doorstep, they volunteered to bring help from Horizon. They left before the siege. They have not returned.”
Rosa thanked him, and his father hesitated a moment, before striding slowly out of the room.
Tom grasped Rosa’s knee. “They will be okay, Rosa. Horizon is west, and the infestation started to the north-east. Even if they ran across one of the scouting parties, there’s no way they could have taken your whole family.”
The worry in Rosa’s face receded a little, but Tom knew it would not ease completely until she had seen them again.
They spent a little longer in quiet discussion, before they became aware of Val and General Steel waiting for their attention.
“How are you two holding up? From what Val has told me, the two of you did Wayrest a great service. I owe you both an enormous debt of gratitude.”
Tom and Rosa accepted the thanks politely. He looked awkward for a moment.
“We have a task for you,” he said. “When the city was put under siege, we sent out messengers for help: Horizon, Safe Harbour, the Rust Sands. We even sent people south across the plains.” Rosa’s attention was fixed on the man like a nail to a board.
“None have returned. It could simply be a matter of the distances involved. It’s a journey of months, after all, but… we need to be sure.
“We’re putting together several more groups, capable, experienced, able to survive on their own, and sending them out. We know your family were among the messengers sent to Horizon. We need you two to travel there, and assess the situation.”
“Yes,” Rosa said, without a second’s hesitation. Tom mirrored her. “When do we leave?”
The general glanced at Val. “We still need a little time to put together the teams. But soon. No more than a few days. You’re sure this is okay?”
Rosa immediately agreed once more. Val looked to Tom.
“Yes. I want to go too,” he said. “This is important. We need to find out why no one sent help. The Smith mentioned brothers and sisters. We need to know if there are more infestations out there. And we need to make sure Rosa’s family is alright.”
Val gave them a small smile. “Good, then. Good. I’ll let you know when we’re ready. Where will you be staying?”
“We will check my family’s manor, I think,” Rosa said. “If it is still there, that is. If not, then we will come to the Hunter’s Hall, yes?”
“Good plan,” Val said. She grasped them each by a shoulder. “I wish I could spend more time with you two. We’ve been through a lot. There’s so much that needs my attention now though, I…”
“It’s okay, Val,” Tom said, patting her hand. “We understand. You’re an important Council member now, and you don’t have time for peons like us.”
Val gave him a filthy look.
“Congratulations,” he told her, earnestly. “You deserve it. I couldn’t think of a better person to lead the Hunters.”
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“Or to make sure the rest of the dickheads on the Council keep their thumbs squarely out of their arseholes,” Rosa supplied.
Val grinned at her. “Tom, if you let anything happen to her, I’m disowning you. She’s a treasure. Make sure you visit Cub in the next few days. He’s going to look at buying a shop in the Artisan’s district.” They nodded. “I’ll be by in a day or two. Enjoy your rest. It might be the last you’ll get in a while.”
Val and Steel wandered out the door together, already deep in discussion by the time they passed the threshold. Tom and Rosa stood, and Rosa led them out and through the city.
Everywhere they looked there were signs of the civil war. Houses crumpled in. Great scars in the roads. Flooded streets. Belongings of all kinds strewn about.
Worse were the refugees. Villagers, fleeing ahead of the orc advance, were sleeping in the streets. It was only when they got to the Noble district did the amount of bedraggled and beaten citizenry begin to clear.
Apparently, no one wanted to be taken for a noble or a sympathiser during the civil war. The district was the worst hit by the war, but it also meant that most of the remaining spacious manors were still unoccupied.
It took them no time to arrive at the Raventos manor. Rosa settled Tom in her old room, and then left to wander the house, looking for any communications her family might have left for her.
Tom drew a comfortable chair over to a window and looked out over the city, deep in thought.
They had survived. Somehow, against all odds, they had managed to kill the Smith. After the battle, he had found out that they had killed the five remaining chieftains, too. The four at the frontline of the battle had been assassinated by the Watch, and the other that had been sent to the rear of the army had been taken care of by Rosa when it tried to assist the Smith.
They had done it. They had suffered, but they had survived. Now, they needed to live.
Tom had always wanted to travel. When he was living under the yoke of his father, he had dreamed of going to far away places as an escape from the abuse. Now, he lived free, without fear, but he found he liked the idea of travelling still. He would like to see Horizon, the fortress city built into the side of a mountain, famed for its wine and horses and marble. Rosa’s original home.
The loss of his mother, and of Scriber, ached inside him. But he had also made friends for life in Val and Cub.
The Smith had skills an order of magnitude more powerful than anything anyone had ever heard about. With his mention of brethren… if there more orcs out there, similarly powerful, gathering their own armies… they would need to be defeated, and soon.
The infestation was not localised to the Deep. The World was under siege. A year ago, Tom had simply wanted to manifest an Ideal. Now he had a purpose. He was a Hunter, and so he would hunt.
He summoned Sesame, and the goofy bear nuzzled at his hand. He scratched at his ear for a while, then drew a pot of honey from his spatial storage and left the great lump to noisily lick it clean. Sus and Sol perched on adjacent rooftops outside, heads slowly swivelling. Sere danced about, pestering them with her constant, belligerent gregariousness.
He loved his familiars dearly. They were his best friends, his constant companions.
That was with the exception of his fiery girlfriend, of course, the woman who had saved his life, who had reinforced his new confidence, who brought light into his life every day.
He thought he might be falling in love with her.
He gave a conflicted sigh, contentment and heartache, bittersweet nostalgia and tentative hope, grim satisfaction and smouldering determination. His wisp flashed again, black against the night. He drew it over. Now was as good a time as any to pick his uplifts.
Uplift threshold reached.
Skill One (Consummate): Agony (Active).
Complete:
Mana cost: Low.
Cooldown: Short.
Range: Moderate.
Duration: Moderate.
Damage: Low.
Damage over time: Moderate.
Inflict pain on target. Damage is typeless.
Uplift Option One:
Mana cost: Low/Moderate.
Cooldown: Short.
Range: Moderate
Duration: Moderate.
Damage: Low/Moderate.
Damage over time: High.
Inflict pain on target. Damage is typeless.
Uplift Option Two:
Mana cost: Low.
Cooldown: Short.
Range: Moderate.
Duration: Moderate.
Damage: Low.
Damage over time: Moderate.
Inflict pain on target. Damage is typeless. Affected target gains cumulative stacks of minor slow.
Uplift Option Three:
Mana cost: Low.
Cooldown: Short.
Range: Moderate.
Duration: Moderate.
Damage: Low.
Damage over time: Moderate.
Inflict pain on target. Damage is typeless. If the target dies, the effect is refreshed and jumps to another nearby enemy.
Agony had uplifted when his mother had been killed. For what he had been feeling at the time, and what he had wanted to visit upon the Smith. He considered the three options, but refrained from choosing for now. He had a rare opportunity to pick three uplifts at once. He didn’t want to choose something that would be made obsolete by one of his other uplifts. He moved to the second notification.
Uplift threshold reached.
Skill Two (Consummate): Grit (Passive).
Complete:
Caster’s toughness increases the lower their health is.
Uplift Option One:
Caster’s toughness increases the lower their health is. Caster becomes dramatically tougher when extremely injured.
Uplift Option Two:
Caster’s toughness increases the lower their health is. Caster’s health cannot be exhausted within a low amount of time if at least at fair health. If the caster’s health drops to extremely injured from fair health within a low amount of time, the caster gains a single, large heal. Twenty-four hour cooldown.
Uplift Option Three:
Caster’s toughness increases the lower their health is. All external healing effects have increased effect.
Grit had uplifted at the same time as Agony. He assumed it was due to the massive amounts of damage he took in the fight. He was happy to have uplifted it; it was a simple skill, but incredibly effective. The amount of damage resistance it provided was difficult to quantify, but he was certain it had saved his life many times. Once again, he deferred his decision.
Uplift threshold reached.
Skill Two (Consummate): Echo (Passive).
Complete:
Any physical attack made by the caster creates an echo, which deals trivial damage. Any attack that damages the caster creates a retaliatory echo, which deals trivial damage. Both effects are limited to aura range.
Uplift Option One:
Any physical attack made by the caster creates an echo, which deals low damage. Any attack that damages the caster creates a retaliatory echo, which deals low damage. Both effects are limited to aura range.
Uplift Option Two:
Any physical attack made by the caster creates an echo, which deals trivial damage. Any attack that damages the caster creates a retaliatory echo, which deals trivial damage. All attacks made by or against the caster create two echos. The second echo targets a different enemy within range, or the original target if no other enemies are within aura range. All effects are limited to aura range.
Uplift Option Three:
Any physical or magical attack made by the caster creates an echo, which deals trivial damage. Any attack that damages the caster creates a retaliatory echo, which deals trivial damage. All effects are limited to aura range.
Tom was surprised. He hadn’t expected Echo to uplift. It was one of his favourite skills, always providing him with extra damage. Every attack he made was just a little more potent, and every time he took damage, whatever attacked him got a little bit of damage in return. It wasn’t much, but it fit into his skillset well, constantly wearing away at enemies.
He thought for a long time about his decisions. All three options deviated a little from the norm. Usually, uplifts gave two direct upgrades to the power of a skill, increasing its damage, decreasing its cooldown, or mana cost, and so on. Then one option would add extra utility. For all three uplifts, he had two utility options and one power option.
Agony was his main offensive skill. It was the most reliable way he had to deal damage. Because its cooldown was shorter than its duration, he could stack it over and over again. Its low cost helped with that too.
He liked the idea of slowing enemies. His aura had already proved that it could be incredibly powerful. But at the same time, his aura did already automatically slow enemies anyway.
Agony jumping to another target if the original target died was nice, but his main problem with Agony was that the initial damage was so low that it was difficult to kill the original target with it in the first place. Or difficult to kill them quickly, at least.
Both utility options would be nice, but what he really needed was a straight damage upgrade for the skill. He needed it to be heftier. He needed to be able to use it as a tool, placing damage on an enemy that they couldn’t simply ignore. With the damage upgrade, it would force enemies to pay attention to him, to try and kill him to remove the effect. It leaned well into the rest of his build.
Even though with the upgrade the damage would now only fall between low and moderate, and the cost would increase too, it was still well worth it, in his opinion. He had a surplus of mana due to all his passive skills, and the high damage over time would hit a lot harder.
He made up his mind, and picked the first option. It would make the other choices easier.
Grit was an easy decision. The dramatic increase to toughness was tempting, but it simply did what the skill already did, and he had several other ways of mitigating gradual damage. Increased healing effects was nice, especially if it played well with Sweet Suffering, but he couldn’t rely on having a healer nearby to make use of it. They were too rare.
The fight against the Smith played heavy on his mind. Twice he had almost been killed outright. Many more times he had avoided the same thing by a hair. He thought back to the fights with the chieftain, and his hunt for the drake. He settled on the second option.
Echo was perhaps the hardest choice. He was sorely lacking in direct damage, so any increase to it was welcome. Area damage was also a weak spot, and taking the second echo option would help mitigate that too. The third option was very interesting, but also the least appealing. Being able to create echoes of his skills could potentially be insane at later tiers, but for now, the gaining a tiny bit of extra damage from Agony, and perhaps a little extra duration for Hush, was simply not worth it.
He ended up choosing option one, for more damage. He was going to be travelling with Rosa, after all, and she had area of effect damage well in hand.
All the three uplifts gave him plenty to think about for his future development though. Uplifts offered at lower tiers were often offered again at later ones, but the choices picked between now and then could make options that seemed unattractive now incredibly powerful down the line.
Tom relaxed in his chair, happy with his decisions. Rosa eventually came back from her search of the house. She had found no letters.
They talked at length, of their journey to come, of some uplifts Rosa had gotten during the battle, and what they had both picked. Sesame lay between them, snoring softly. Hours later, Rosa fell asleep too.
Tom covered her with a blanket, and sat again, admiring the play of the moonlight in her hair. He looked out the window, towards the west, and distant Horizon, planning and imagining.
He had grown in the last year. Beyond all expectations- against all expectations, he had grown and succeeded and thrived.
He had learned about himself. He loved adversity, proving himself and overcoming it. He also loved the quiet spaces in between his battles. He loved the wilds too, and he was excited to travel more.
Through the Deep again, this time, by choice.
And outside it, this time, with friends.
Beyond it. Into The World.
His wisp flashed, dull brown. With a sigh, he pulled it back over.