As I stepped out of the house, right in the doorway, I paused for a moment. Not because I was carefully eyeing the people passing by. No, the reason was different. For some reason, right now, at this moment, I felt particularly vulnerable. I wanted to go back and put on full armor. The only thing that stopped me from doing such a thing was the realization of how much attention I would draw on the city streets, clad in armor. Gathering my courage, I clenched my teeth and took a step forward. The evening street, with less than an hour left until sunset, was still bustling with people. Some were hurrying to finish their work in daylight, others leisurely closed up their stalls, and some were just going about their business. Some of them were in a hurry, while others walked without haste. Usual city bustle, but I knew that somewhere, maybe close by, an assassin lurked like a hungry predator. A mercenary about whom I knew practically nothing. Was he young or old? How skilled? I didn't even know if a man or a woman was hunting Aun.
Shrugging, I thought that a light version of a gambeson might fit under my custom-made travel suit. For example, one made of thin but strong and alchemy-treated sailcloth. It wouldn't save me from a sword or spear strike but it might stop a knife's cutting blow. Of course, for a thin but reliable alchemy-treated gambeson, a substantial amount of money would have to be paid, and such things are not made quickly. Therefore, with a heavy sigh, I dismissed these thoughts, fairly deciding that the best defense for us would be heightened vigilance and wide-open eyes.
"The Seventh Tower is there." Aun gestured towards the sunset.
"I know," I nodded while turning towards the central square. "But first, we will take a walk. Try to spot a tail."
"A tail?" At first, the young man didn't understand me, but then he grasped the meaning of the word in our context, and his face lit up with a wide smile.
I am once again amazed by his perceptiveness. This boy, who grew up essentially in a medieval world, albeit a magical one, was smarter than most earthlings I knew, even those who had higher education. Sometimes it seemed that he was even more intelligent than me, but this nuance simply didn't stand out due to his limited worldview, youth, and general lack of life experience. I am sure that if the young man gets out of his current predicaments, a new trading star will soon rise in the firmament of Tries.
If...
Heavy thoughts, like high-octane fuel, made me turn my head even more intensely. I heard that during the Second World War, fighter and attack pilots tied silk scarves to prevent chafing on their necks from constantly turning their heads, attempting to spot enemy fighters. I don't know how true this is or if it's just a war story, but that evening, my skin was really chafed where the collar of my shirt touched my neck.
Throughout the time we were "wandering," Aun was telling various stories from the city's history. Tries was an ancient city, built even before the Fall, so hundreds, if not thousands, of such legends wandered its streets, and it seemed to me that the boy knew most of them if not all! All this time, I was feeding my Perception aura with the energy of the Core, trying to detect surveillance. It seemed to me that it had to be there because it's not enough just to know where your target lives - you also need to know that they wouldn't hide somewhere or even leave the city, saving their life. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't detect anything substantial. Lots of curious looks. Increased attention to us - sure. But all of that was more my fault due to my unusual for this place appearance, meaning locals were looking at me, and Aun, walking next to me, was of no interest to anyone. At least, that's how it seemed to me.
When the sun had already set beyond the horizon, but there was still a lot of time before the Night Sister reached her zenith, I turned around and headed west.
"Do I need to know what you're looking for?" Aun, surprisingly polite, asked quietly, almost casually.
I had two options regarding the young man. The first, on the way to the west city wall, was to leave the boy in some well-guarded restaurant. This way, he knew nothing and was in relative safety. The second was to take him with me and not hide from the merchant's son the fact that I was not shy about using the powers of Shadow.
Aun belonged to the merchant class. And traders, in their pursuit of profit, do not hesitate to resort to the most dubious means. This was the case on Earth, and Ain was not much different in this respect. I'm sure the young man had come across shadow rituals more than once. Moreover, even the official position of the Pantheon's priests did not completely forbid the worship of Seguna but only called it "improper" and "questionable," with all the consequences for the followers of the shadow.
Still, the Night Sister is not Obeorn, Nulgle, or Da'Nnan, and she is not completely a dark goddess. According to local mythology, Seguna retains an echo of Antares' light, meaning she is not entirely lost to the Light. Of course, openly worshipping the Night Sister on Ain is still not advisable. Since Shadow, no matter how you look at it, remains Shadow, and also the patroness of thieves, spies, and creatures creeping in the semi-darkness.
"It's not we who are looking. I am looking," I correct the boy. "If it weren't for the threat to your life, you wouldn't be here now," I dot the 'i'.
"I get it," the boy nods to my words, completely calm and not at all offended.
"As you probably already understood, my task is to win the upcoming tournament."
"I guessed," the corners of the boy's mouth rise for a moment.
"And to achieve this goal, I am ready to resort even to the options that seem dubious and reprehensive from the point of view of the majority," I say this and fall silent, giving him time to think.
"You've always reminded me of my uncle," Aun breaks the silence. "He, too, isn't above using quite controversial methods. But as long as he brings profit to the clan, everyone turns a blind eye to the way he does things."
"But if your uncle slips up one day..." I smile.
"Yes, they'd remember everything immediately." The young man understands me perfectly.
"Just like any power I acquire also benefits you," I continue, moving forward and speaking softly without turning my head to my companion.
"That's obvious," Aun's voice flickers with slight bewilderment - as if he's a bit offended that I'm explaining such clear matters to him.
I pause for a while, we're passing through a fairly crowded place, and it looks natural. And I have time to think. The young man walking next to me is young and naive, but he's too smart, I would say excessively, and I constantly need to keep this fact in mind. Playing with him and using him in the dark is a very doubtful affair. In the end, he will figure out what's what. The young man is helpful to me now, but not so much that I would cling to him with all my might. The "past me" at the end of the Cycle would have left him to deal with his problems on his own without a doubt, as the benefit from the boy was much less than the potential risks of meeting with assassins. And probably, it was this fact that kept me from leaving the boy alone.
I clearly realized that I do NOT want to become the version of myself that I was at the end of the last Cycle. Because "that me" then, in order to achieve his goal, stepped over all his principles and pushed aside everything he believed in. And yes, it helped; the goal that everyone thought was impossible was achieved. But the price that "past me" paid for it was excessive. Then "I" lost myself, broke myself as a person, becoming an arrow that sees only the center of the target.
A vivid memory of what "I" was "then" pierced me from head to toe. Cold prudent mind, impeccable calculation, a perfectly measured movement towards the goal. And most importantly...
No doubts.
In anything.
Absolutely none.
Lie, deceive, set up, betray, kill. If it was necessary for the cause, everything was used. Was there anything human left in "me" then? Probably not. The "past me" laid everything on the altar of his revenge against the questers, including his humanity. Machine, robot, function - these definitions were more suitable for describing "my" personality at the end of the Past Cycle.
No, if there is no other way out, then to save the world, I will again sell my soul for efficiency. But as long as there is the slightest chance to avoid this, I will cling to it with all my might. Perhaps that's why I got involved in this story of saving Aun from hired assassins. Not because of the dubious benefit of the information about the tournament participants he could provide me with. But to prove to myself that I remain myself. And I haven't become, under the weight of "future" memories, that version of myself indifferent to the troubles of others.
I like this boy. Despite losing his father, his family's entire fortune, and the real threat to his life, he doesn't whine in self-pity. The guy grits his teeth, looks for options, acts, fights. And if I leave him now to deal with his problems alone, it would be a huge step towards that 'future me' that I dislike so much. But I also shouldn't have remained the altruist, believing everyone and everything, as I was before this whole story. Ain does not spare such people - it grinds, chews, and spits them out.
"The Night Sister is unusually bright tonight." As we passed through the crowd of people, Aun said, interrupting my thoughts and making me falter.
"What?" I even stopped, turning to the young man - so unexpected his words were for me.
"Oh." He took a step back and covered his mouth with his hand, but his eyes were sparkling with unhidden triumph.
"How did you figure it out?" I gritted through clenched teeth.
"Honestly, it was a guess; I blurted out the first thing that came to mind." Realizing that he would not be killed here and now, the young man noticeably relaxed. "And your reaction confirmed that guess."
Damn! In addition to being smart, the young man also has the divine blessing of luck. A volatile mix, the victim of which just happened to be my entire conspiracy. However, if you think about it, such an outcome is more than logical, and I just didn't take the blessing factor into account in my calculations.
Turning on my heels, I started towards the sunset. When the young man caught up with me and settled next to me, I said in as calm a tone as possible:
"You have two options. The first is to spend time in a well-guarded restaurant until I return. And the second one, knowing all the risks, is to follow me."
"You know what I'll choose." The boy sniffed in response.
"I know..." I sighed heavily.
"Actually, I should have figured it out sooner rather than playing a guessing game." Aun chastised himself aloud as we walked through the semi-deserted streets of the poorest district of Tries.
"Go on." It will be useful for me to hear where and how I messed up.
"At first, I thought you were looking for a meeting with someone, and that was my main theory." As much as the young man tried, every word he said was accompanied by a fleeting but still noticeable gesticulation. "But the longer I thought, the clearer I understood that there were too many discrepancies in that version. You are definitely in our city for the first time, and you don't know anyone here. And if you were looking for a specific person or a group of people, your questions would have been different than those you asked me. And yet, lately, something has been very interesting to you. At the same time, you only know the approximate location of your interest." The young man fell silent for a moment, clicked his tongue theatrically, which I recognized as copying my gesture, and only then continued. "And considering my love for the history of Tries, I was unforgivably stupid."
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"The city history?" I didn't quite see how this related to me, although I had to admit, the boy, indeed, seemed to know every urban legend there was.
"After the Fall, all the altars to the dark gods were destroyed in the city's Temple. Along with the priests of Darkness, of course. But followers of Antares couldn't find Seguna's altar; it disappeared. Vanished. There are many stories and theories about this, but almost all of them suggest that the Night Sister's altar remains within the city's boundaries. But no one knows where exactly," the merchant's son clarified. "Most legends say the altar is hidden in the wall of one of the old city buildings. The bravest claim that the altar is built into one of the Temple's walls. And... I, honestly, was a proponent of this version. Because such a daring move, a gesture on the verge of reason, is very much like Seguna." The youth snorted and added. "But, apparently, you know more. Which is really surprising! How in such a short time did you learn what is unknown to those who live here all their lives?!" He fell silent, clearly expecting an answer.
"You just need to ask the right questions to the right people in an atmosphere that makes those people want to be honest."
"Oh!" A slight smile crossed Aun's face. "And that is very difficult to do."
"In everything, you need skill, preparation, training," I vaguely replied, rephrasing a well-known song.[1]
"So where is the altar of the Night Sister?" The youth was practically bouncing with curiosity as he asked this question.
"Are you going to offer a prayer to Seguna?" I asked, surprised.
"No!" The boy recoiled from my words.
"Then you shouldn't know all the details."
"But…"
"No!"
Aun's sulky huffing as he walked beside me had no effect on me. To make me feel guilty, it would take something more. We walked in silence for most of the journey until I noticed a sign brightly lit by a magic crystal. A solid inn promised a reliable roof overhead, as well as hearty food, and, apparently, was a place where wealthy foreign caravanners stayed. And where such people stay, their security is usually nearby.
"Do you know this establishment?" I asked the youth.
"Western Bastion." The boy nodded. "A well-known place. Foreign merchants who do not want to sleep far from their goods stop here."
"Do they serve decent food?"
"I've never been here, but my father praised it."
"And there's a lot of security here, both local and from the merchants, who would react very sharply if anyone drew a weapon in front of them or attacked one of the visitors." I was leading the boy to specific thoughts; he was smart and should understand.
"Can I go with you?" Judging by this question, he got it correctly.
"Why? Are you a good warrior or a skilled mage? Maybe you're full of arcane knowledge and know how to sneak up on a target?" My words dripped with undisguised sarcasm.
"I'm not..." He started to defend himself but quickly realized how pitiful it would sound.
"Moreover, your appearance in such an establishment will not raise questions from anyone."
"Making contracts here in our circle is considered a weakness. Those who do it are those who want to intercept the needed goods earlier and are not confident in their negotiation position. It immediately shows the caravaneers your excessive interest in their goods, which is bad for trading. But sometimes, rarely, but it happens, the most profitable, albeit risky, deals are made right here."
"Exactly your case," I smirked. "At least that's how it will look like from the outside when you appear there."
"Alright," Aun unexpectedly agreed with these arguments.
The young man was clearly not delighted with my decision, but he accepted it. It made me think that dealing with intelligent people can sometimes be even easier than expected. If someone like Miranda were in Aun's place, they would have started a scandal right now, utterly unconcerned that such behavior would attract unnecessary attention from others.
"Will you take advice from me?" I asked the boy before we parted ways.
"Yes," he answered without the slightest hesitation.
"If I don't come back…"
"But…" He interrupted me, but I didn't let him open his mouth further.
"If!"
"Understood."
"Spend the night in this establishment, and in the morning, right after sunrise, go to the head of the clan and lay everything out to him."
"But what if he is the one behind all this?" Aun asked reasonably.
"They're unlikely to meet you alone; you're too insignificant for a personal audience. It's more likely there will be other people present during your conversation. Am I wrong?"
"Most likely, that's how it will be."
"Therefore, even if one of your relatives is behind the attempts on your life, once everyone in the family learns about the attempts to kill you, they'll have to lie low. Even the head of the clan, if it's him, will become more cautious."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because if he wanted to get rid of you for the clan's benefit, he wouldn't have done it so secretly."
"Everything might not be so straightforward," the boy pondered briefly before continuing, "but if the Elder is behind it all, no matter how this story ends, it won't be good for me under any circumstances. So... I understand."
"So we have an agreement," I nodded.
"But, if nothing happens, you will come back?" Aun asked me a little anxiously.
"My stuff is in your house," I snorted, "and my armor costs quite a bit. Or do you think I'd sacrifice my armor just to abandon you?"
"I understand." The boy said, carefully concealing a smile. "And good luck to you."
"Thanks," I tersely replied to his good wishes and lightly pushed the lad towards the inn.
Once the boy reached the steps, answered the guard's question, and disappeared behind the doors, I quickly set off in the correct direction. Thanks to Aun's stories, I knew exactly where to go.
The western part of Tries, the one bordering the mainland, was considered the poorest in the city. The majority of trade took place through the port, and overland business barely made up a quarter of the total. Moreover, it was here that foreigners often stopped, who the locals tended to look down upon. From a military science perspective, the city was most vulnerable from land. As is well known, wealthy people prefer to build their homes in the safest places, and the western part of Tries did not meet this requirement.
Previously, while strolling around the city, I rarely encountered beggars and the destitute. Perhaps a few cripples would beg for alms on the steps of the Temple, and they could be found in the commercial port too. But in this district, homeless beggars appeared more and more frequently. The closer I got to the city walls, the more of them there were. It was already late, and none of them bothered me with requests to share spare change. On the contrary, upon noticing an unfamiliar silhouette, the beggars tried to scurry out of my way or huddle in the darkest corner to avoid drawing attention.
Reaching the city wall, I paused for a moment. When viewed up close, the fortifications of Tries left an imposing impression. The main wall was about as tall as a three-story house. And the massive towers, each of which could easily accommodate around fifty soldiers, rose about a third higher than that. Meanwhile, the wall's thickness at its base exceeded ten meters. The towers were positioned approximately one hundred and fifty meters from each other. Most likely, this was a carefully measured distance, allowing, if necessary, to shoot through the entire wall length from one tower to another from any point.
Approaching the wall, I touched it with my fingers. It was made of dense, scorched brick, but this was most likely just the outer layer. It was immediately evident that the wall was well cared for. Here and there, even in the semi-darkness of the night, new masonry was visible, apparently used to replace worn-out areas.
Glancing around and comparing it to what Aun had told me, I realized I had reached the wall near the Tenth Tower. Turning left, with the air of someone who knows exactly where they need to go, I headed in the right direction.
The closer I got to the Eighth Tower, the more beggars I encountered. It seemed that it was here that they gathered to spend the night from all over the city. Perhaps, they reasonably assumed that no one would attack a large group just for amusement. And not because it was dangerous but because it would create a lot of noise. Most of the homeless were of the Wooden and Copper ranks, and someone with an Iron Core flashed by only occasionally. But I didn't come here for a tour or to study this part of life in Tries, so after glancing at another group of beggars, I immediately forgot about them.
It was so until I reached the Eighth Tower. At its base, just three steps away from the steel gates leading into the protective structure, a group of five beggars had settled. Outwardly, they did not differ from those I had seen earlier, the same rags, the same very specific smell of long-unwashed bodies. But there was one huge difference in this group of five from all other homeless people. Three of them were Steel, one more was Wootz, and the furthest from me had a Ruby Core!
Ruby! Like Larindel.
People like that cannot be beggars and homeless unless something broke them in the past, and this way of life is a kind of voluntary asceticism for them. Although, there was another option for finding such relatively high-level personalities right here. I did not like this possibility but was prepared for it in advance.
Pretending that this group did not interest me, I passed by them without breaking my stride. The Perception aura suggested that several curious glances converged on me, but judging by what I felt, there was no hostility in them.
So it remained while I, having taken five steps away from the tower, continued my movement, but now with my fingers pressed against the wall. As far as I understood, Seguna's altar was hidden in the city wall itself; that is, it was embedded in it. And those who hid it would hardly have left even a small part of the altar in plain sight. If so, over the centuries, it would have long been found by the priests of the Pantheon. And since this did not happen, the sacred stone was embedded in the wall deep enough, so if you don't know the exact place, the prayer will not be "heard." I relied on my Affinity with Shadow, hoping that it would direct me.
In order not to miss the right place, I turned off all the auras and completely focused on the Shadow. The Shadow that exists in every living thing. And to my surprise, it was much more difficult to do this now than before. I even had to stop for almost a minute, leaning heavily on the wall. The appeal to the inner Shadow, familiar from my "past life," this time seemed to meet a new unfamiliar barrier on its way. And this barrier shone with Light!
Crap!
Damn it!
Why didn't I think of it earlier?!
Two almost opposite Affinities, obtained by one person, clearly entered into conflict, virtually nullifying each other. More precisely, it's not like that. Listening to myself, I realized that this is not an exact definition: they did not nullify, but rather they separated from each other. Light from Shadow and Shadow from Light.
If it were not for the "memory of the future," I would, most likely, not have found a way to reconcile the two Origins within me. But the method which "the past me" used to destroy the quester involved the Mixing of Origins. And in all of Ain, there was only one means that could reconcile two Origins in one person. Someone calls it Fate, someone Duty, someone Destiny; the name is not important, the essence is. Two Origins will obey one Will only if this Will is led by something greater than the usual desire of a mortal.
Last time, it was the Duty of all-consuming Vengeance, not personal, but vengeance for all earthlings. Such a strong and all-encompassing feeling that almost erased the personality of its bearer, which is "me." But that's exactly what gave the "past me" the opportunity for the Mixing of Origins.
Taking a deep breath, I sat up straight where I stood. What was happening inside me was far more important than any external influence.
My inner gaze focused on the Core. The Core, which, as I could now distinctly feel, was covered with stains of Light and Shadow. Stains that constantly collided, sometimes merely repelling each other, sometimes absorbing each other. To notice this, one had to immerse oneself almost as deeply as during Elevation. As a result of each such "collision," barely noticeable cracks ran across the shell of my Core. They almost instantly healed, but now it is evident to me: if this problem is not solved, then very soon, within a month at most, due to the collision of Origins, my Core will crack and crumble. And I, at best, will lose the ability to manipulate Spirit and Mana forever, meaning I will permanently fall to the Wooden rank.
Or, more likely, just perish.
If I didn't have the knowledge of the "future," I probably would have been scared and panicked at the newly revealed, quite gloomy prospects. But in the time since the questers pulled me from Earth, I've changed. I've changed a lot.
My attention took the form of a Spear.
A broad "sweep" of the blade, forged by my Will, sweeps Light and Shadow from my Core. It won't last long. Echoes of Origins rush back to their battlefield, for which they have chosen the center of my soul. But a Shield, transformed from the Spear of Will, stands in their way.
And even Shadow and Light cannot pierce this Shield!
Because I know what I live for. And the barrier I've put up is not a simple desire to live longer.
No.
Shadow and Light encounter the Shield of Duty. They strike it and shatter into tiny particles, unable to penetrate it.
Again, my Will forms a Spear, not allowing the Origins to gather anew. But they are persistent, and the time comes when I have to change the Spear for the Shield.
Another Strike.
My Will, multiplied by Duty, withstands the blow again...
In the outside world, seconds pass, but for me, time flows differently. My battle lasts hours of subjective time. And if I had allowed myself even an echo of doubt in this battle, I would have lost. Lost without a chance of a rematch.
This continues until the Origins submit, bowing to my Duty.
Victory!
But the price of this victory is great. If I turn away from my Goal... Forget my Duty...
The Origins would tear my Core into tiny pieces in the exact second. And Shadow and Light would act as one front in this matter without the slightest remorse.
With a ragged breath, I open my eyes, emerging into the material world. And as soon as this happens, a stranger's shadow leans over me, and a dry, emotionless voice asks:
"Is the city's guest lost? Shall I escort the guest to his inn?"
And urging me towards the correct answer, cold steel touches my neck.
Steel, clenched in the hand of a Ruby warrior.
[1] TLN: I doubt anyone is interested, but still https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkTfBYesYeA