Magic is astounding. Many are enchanted by the colorful walls of fire, lightning striking straight from the palms, or the hail of icy arrows launched by the skilled hand of a Precious Coil warrior-archer. I won't argue, combat spells are indeed beautiful. But what always amazed me about magic is how it makes ordinary things simpler and easier.
Take, for example, right now. The chainmail I just tried on was a bit tight in the shoulders but too loose around the waist, yet in just five minutes and a few touches from a young blacksmith, it now fits me almost perfectly. I'll never cease to be amazed by such "simplicity."
"Om Raven," said the smith, who appeared quite young by local standards - barely twenty years old - stepping back and sizing me up from head to toe. "Spread your arms out to the sides. Good. Now raise them up. Touch your fingertips to the floor. Does it pull anywhere?"
"It's fine," I answered after twisting my torso a couple more times. "How much do I owe you?"
"As we agreed," the young master mumbled, seemingly shy to state the price again, "fourteen gold for everything."
This "everything" included a double-woven steel chainmail and a standard local gambeson. The latter, compared to my previous one, felt like a thin sweater rather than additional protection. But my old gambeson stayed with Katashi because the Japanese wanted to make something similar to it. Moreover, he planned to refine this piece of gear considering the design of my future armor, and he needed a prototype to base it on. So, I had to buy not only the armor but also a standard gambeson. It's not practical to wear chainmail on bare skin, after all. At the very least, it's uncomfortable, as the rings painfully pinch the skin even through thick shirts. And I don't have time to wait for a new gambeson to be made to order. Besides, in a maximum of two weeks, everything I bought today will be replaced by what Katashi makes. Of course, I could have saved money and waited for the Japanese to deliver what he promised. But the constant trouble I find myself in made me decide not to skimp and to shell out for protection that, while not the best, is reliable and of good quality.
Katashi recommended this young master's shop to me. According to the Japanese, the young man standing before me had not yet made a significant name for himself and was practically trading at zero to attract customers. Yet, his goods were of no lesser quality than those offered by much more renowned masters. Given such a recommendation from the future god of Labor, when it came time to purchase armor, I didn't hesitate long and immediately headed to the address provided. And I didn't regret it. What would have cost at least two dozen gold in any other shop, here cost nearly a third less, with quite comparable quality.
After settling up with the blacksmith, I threw a cotta over my new chainmail and was about to leave when I noticed a small piece of delicate azure fabric on the counter.
"Is this crystalline cotton?" I asked, pointing to the fabric.
"Correct," the young master replied, a bit perplexed by my interest.
"Was this fabric specially brought to you, or did you buy it here, in Bordum?"
"I bought it in the city," the young blacksmith said, looking even more bewildered. "At Mrs. Tolkorana's shop, which is on the main market street. That shop even has an unusual sign in the shape of a stork weaving a nest."
Hearing this, I checked how the new gambeson and chainmail fit once more, then politely said goodbye and left the armorer's shop. Stepping onto the street, I couldn't help but smile broadly. And my smile was so sinister that a passing boy, seeing my expression, turned as white as chalk and quickly ducked into the nearest alley.
What a surprise - to find crystalline cotton in such a backwater! Not that I was a fan of this material, from which the aristocracy of Pentapolis likes to make their underwear or fancy shirts and dresses. Crystalline cotton is as fragile as it is beautiful and pleasant to the touch. Only the best masters dare work with it, and even then, it often tears during the process. Moreover, in my opinion, this rare and capricious material is unjustifiably expensive. Especially considering how quickly items made from it wear out. Impractical, but fashionable. No, I wasn't planning to order new underwear or a shirt in the latest noble fashion of Sun City. I needed the crystalline cotton for something else…
They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, as soon as I saw that piece of rare fabric in the armorer's shop, I realized my revenge had cooled enough.
Thanks to the sign, easily recognizable from afar, I quickly found the small shop that traded fabrics. To my relief, they hadn't sold all the crystalline cotton yet, and I managed to buy the last piece, which should be enough for a shirt. I paid five gold pieces more for this scrap of fabric than I had recently for a new chainmail and gambeson! But when it comes to long-cherished revenge, money loses much of its significance.
I understand that such vindictiveness is an unhealthy trait of my character, but I can't help myself. This Da'Nnan's designer, who has taken such a pretentious pseudonym, will fully pay for his "artwork"!
My next stop was the alchemist's shop.
"How may I assist the esteemed Om?" Noticing the brooch on my cotta and reading the motto, the gray-haired Steel-ranked alchemist deeply bowed as I entered his little shop.
"A medium flask of white crowberry solution and a dozen willow buds soaked in wine vinegar."
"Three silvers and seven coppers," said the alchemist, placing the requested items on the counter, and added, "Anything else?"
"A tub of cold water and a place to soak a piece of fabric."
Apparently, this man had seen so much in his life that no customer requests could knock him off his stride. Listening to my wishes, he gestured for me to follow him. Just beyond a small trading hall, there was an alchemical workshop to which the owner led me.
As soon as a tub of crystal clear, cool water was placed before me, I tossed in the willow buds. After waiting half a minute, I added the white crowberry solution. Then, I swirled the mixture with a wooden stirrer, and when the water turned a uniform amber color, I dropped the recently purchased piece of crystalline cotton into the tub.
As soon as the precious fabric submerged into the solution and I began to stir it, genuine surprise appeared on the previously unflappable face of the alchemist master. No wonder! I suppose it's not every day that a client comes in and "throws away" nearly two dozen gold coins right before his eyes, choosing such an unusual method to do so.
Of course, I didn't bother to explain my actions. Let the shop owner think I'm crazy; it doesn't matter. After waiting for the color of the material to match the shade of the solution, I pulled out the fabric and asked the alchemist to dry it with air magic. Then, I wrapped up the now-dry fabric, which had acquired a shade of light amber, into a bundle and settled the bill. Before leaving the shop, I stopped at the door and, as this alchemist had done me no wrong, I said just in case:
"Advice: don't repeat what you saw."
"I'm not curious. And frankly, not wealthy enough to experiment on crystalline cotton." The grey-haired master shrugged his shoulders, replying in such a way that made me believe him.
After exchanging forced smiles with the alchemist, I said goodbye and left the shop.
What might have seemed like the extravagant madness of a wealthy tunneller was, of course, not really the case. As soon as I saw the strip of crystalline cotton on the armorer's counter, something clicked in my mind, and a story from the "memories of the future" surfaced. It was told to me by an earthling that everyone called nothing but the Hatter because he always wore some kind of hat and tried to change his headgear almost daily. I don't know what fetish or madness drove this habit, but it was unimportant because this Hatter turned out to be a very talented alchemist. And once, he tackled the problem of the low durability of crystalline cotton. Unlike local masters, he eventually succeeded. Moreover, he chose a very simple and inexpensive alchemical composition. Yes, the very solution of white crowberry and willow buds in wine vinegar. The fabric soaked in this solution changed color from azure to amber but became many times more durable while retaining all the tactile qualities for which it was valued by the wealthy. One nuance prevented the Hatter from striking it rich on this discovery...
While being carried through the Sundbad Gates, fabric treated with the Hatter's alchemical recipe became magically poisonous. From a relatively prolonged contact of about half an hour with it, a person developed a persistent magical allergy. An allergy that manifested as unbearable itching from touching any fabric, not just crystalline cotton. This effect lasted from five to eight days, and even the priests of Ishii at the Precious Coil of the Spiral couldn't alleviate it. Besides the skin scratched raw, this allergy caused no particular harm to health and passed without a trace.
As soon as Armani opens the scroll and gets to work - he wouldn't entrust such precious fabric to the apprentices - we'll settle our accounts. I suffered for days, looking at the flying buttocks he had drawn on my gambeson, so let him suffer too. Let him walk around naked for a week and sleep on the floor; perhaps he'll realize that actions have consequences.
In a good mood, anticipating the just retribution soon to befall Armani, I left Bordum. I skirted two caravans deadlocked over who should yield the path and broke into a run. And since training had temporarily taken a back seat, I accelerated quite a bit. Even then, my speed was limited not so much by my physical capabilities as by the fear that my shoes wouldn't withstand such strain. My boots, even reinforced with a Strengthening aura and pre-applied Runes on the soles, were still not designed for high-speed travel. However, thanks to focusing solely on running, within a couple of hours, I reached the city of Minber, where the closest to Bordum Sundbad Temple with operational Gates was located.
Using the privileges granted by my position as Guild Sheriff, I bypassed a considerable jam at the city gates and entered without waiting. Noticing the bored guard captain, I took the opportunity to ask him about the city and the Cloud Path Temple, where the Gates were located.
The personality of the head priest of the Sundbad temple was what interested me here. I wanted to ask for permission to inspect the Gates, hoping to discover the Rune of Path, which, as the "memory of the future" assured, must be inscribed on the structure of the Gates. However, the Doors of the Divine Road are considered sacred, and outsiders are not allowed to scrutinize them. So, I was curious how strictly the local Temple's head priest adhered to the rules and whether I could approach him with such a request without fearing that even the thought of such "sacrilege" would get me banned from passing through the Gates. Alas, even such a scenario was possible. Of course, there were other Sundbad Temples in the Rur region. That is, such a prohibition in one of them was not an irremediable disaster. But, frankly, I did not want to waste time traveling to another city.
From a conversation with the guard captain, I learned that the head priest of the Cloud Path Temple is renowned for strictly following the rules and closely monitoring compliance with all dogmas. After saying goodbye to the guard, I decided not to risk it and refrain from requests that might seem blasphemous to the local priests.
It's a pity that the knowledge of the Runes on the Gates surfaced in my memory so late. I think I would have easily arranged such an inspection with the head priest in Tries. But such is the nature of my "memories." They are not a reference book with a detailed catalog of where and what "lies," but rather resemble ordinary memories of something that happened long ago. And considering that sometimes I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, such "forgetfulness" is normal. How convenient it would be if "memories of the future" were in the form of memoirs or some other record. But alas, they are only fragments of memory from an alternative version of events, and my memory is generally not very precise. However, I still hope that with the knowledge and practice of Mental Magic, I can significantly improve it, which will also positively affect the "memories of the future."
Leaving the gate square, I did not linger anywhere and headed straight for the Temple of Sundbad. The tantalizing smells wafting from the taverns and inns, whispering "stay, grab a bite," stirred my hungry stomach. But, showing unwavering determination, I bypassed them all without even glancing back.
The reason for my haste was that, as the guard captain had mentioned, Baron Reuter was visiting the city with his young heir. It was the same lad who had behaved so unbecomingly at the Temple of the Dawning Glimmer, and whose actions Sister Gertrude had asked me not to hide. A personal encounter with either Baron Reuter or his wayward heir might have gone unnoticed, but remembering my "luck," I decided not to tempt fate and tried to leave Minber as quickly as possible. I could always eat later, after the Transition.
Perhaps my intuition grew more keen, but I indeed narrowly missed the baron and his son. As I was ascending the temple stairs, I saw them, surrounded by a small entourage, leaving the magistrate's office. Of course, I recognized the heir, and I guessed the identity of the baron by his rich garments. Turning away, trying not to attract attention, I climbed the steps and, entering the temple, hurried into the shadow of its arches.
Fortunately, the baron's heir, busy picking his nose, didn't notice me. On the other hand, it was troubling that Baron Reuter and his entourage were clearly heading towards the Temple of Sundbad. It would take them no more than five minutes to cross the city square at a leisurely pace. That meant I needed to hurry if I wanted to avoid any trouble.
"Sir," I addressed the first priest I saw.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"May the blessing of the Heavens be upon you." Noticing my noble brooch, the aging servant of the deity of Roads managed almost a sincere smile.
"May it be." I mirrored formally and immediately got to the point. "I would like to use the Gates."
"Om..." the priest began and paused, looking at me attentively.
"Om Raven," I introduced myself.
"Om Raven," nodded the priest, "please follow me, and I will register you."
"Register me?" I didn't like the sound of that.
"Om Raven, please understand, but Minber is a large trading city, and after each Transition, the Gates need time to recharge, and all our Transitions are scheduled two days in advance." Apparently, the local Temple's Gates were significantly worn or damaged, which is why they accumulate energy slowly, for even in Deytran, the trade capital of the world, a waiting time of more than a day for a Transition is extraordinary.
Tapping on my Guild Sign, I made my face look as displeased as possible, and with a hint of irritation in my voice, I said:
"I am not satisfied with such a long wait."
"Om Raven, I beg your pardon, but all Transitions are scheduled for this duration, and there is nothing I can do," the priest replied, shielding himself with a mask of formal indifference, in as calm a voice as possible.
I understood that I appeared to be a noble upstart, eager to use his title and try to jump the queue, but I was not doing it for myself - I was actually trying to save the world. Yes, a poor excuse, but Arien would not call me for no reason. That meant everything was almost ready for the Ritual of Halves Distribution, and any delay on my part was, mildly speaking, undesirable. Thus, as much as I disliked my own actions, I raised my voice and, looming over the innocent priest who was merely fulfilling his duties, growled threateningly:
"I must insist!"
But, before the priest could reply, a stern voice from behind me interrupted:
"What is this noise under this sanctified by the Heaven's dome?"
Taking a sidestep, I turned around. Approaching us with brisk, bustling steps was a short, skinny, clean-shaven old man dressed in a sky-blue robe and considerably worn wooden sandals on his bare feet. Judging by the Ruby Rank and the distinctive carvings on his staff, he was none other than the head priest of this Temple.
"Your Reverence," his subordinate immediately bowed, "Om Raven," he nodded shortly towards me, "wants to travel the Road and is extremely dissatisfied with the long wait. He implies that his status as the Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild allows him to bypass the regular queue."
The head priest quickly scanned me with his eyes, frowned slightly upon seeing my guild sign, then tilted his head, sighed heavily, and commanded in a sharp, authoritative tone:
"Register Om Raven right after the Baron Reuter's heir."
The priest, apparently expecting a different response, was taken aback, opened his mouth as if a fish thrown ashore, and then closed it, unsure of what to say.
"Brother Olgerd," the head priest addressed irritably, "I am genuinely surprised at your forgetfulness."
"Ah?" is all his subordinate could utter, blinking in confusion.
"I remind you... As our Celestial Guide Sundbad was assisted in creating the Gates of the Path by His Brother on the Divino Stairway, Ishid, the priests of the god of rituals, as well as those marked by His attention, have the right to use the Celestial Trails on privileged terms."
"But..." Turning around, Brother Olgerd took another careful look at me. Apparently, he had never encountered a symbol like mine on a Guild Sign before, and now he was completely baffled.
"No 'buts', Brother Olgerd. Do as I said. And then proceed to the cell of contemplation. Two days on water and bread. And reread the life story of Ishid." After reprimanding the priest, the head of the Temple turned to me, slightly bowed his head, and said, "Om Raven, I apologize. We are pleased to see the Sheriff of the Book in our Temple, for those marked by our Guide's Brother are always welcome guests under this dome. Now, excuse me, but I must leave you. Business."
"Pleased to meet you, and thank you for your cooperation," I bowed deeply.
"Likewise," the head priest responded briefly, heading towards the exit.
I didn't dare stop him and ask to inspect the Gates for the Rune of Path -this head priest was too quick to judge, and it was better not to argue with him.
"Sheriff of the Book?" As soon as the head priest moved away, Brother Olgerd whispered and, looking up at me, said, "Om Raven, please forgive my lack of knowledge, but I've never heard such a title before."
I could have simply dismissed him, but I decided to explain, as if apologizing for my recent behavior:
"Have you heard of the Tunnellers' Guild Book?"
"The Divine artifact created by Ishid?" The priest clarified and, upon my nod, continued, "Certainly."
"Well... the fact is that it wasn't the assembly of tunnellers who appointed me as the Guild Sheriff, but directly by the Book of Ishid. Hence the title 'Sheriff of the Book.'"
"Oh..." The servant of the deity of Roads was genuinely surprised. Realizing what he had heard, he bowed and smiled apologetically. "Please forgive my ignorance, Om Raven."
"It happens to everyone; after all, there's truth in the saying: A lifetime of living, a lifetime of learning."
The priest clearly liked the proverb from Earth, and to my relief, he didn't dare to ask who exactly had said those words. Because I couldn't have given a clear answer to that question. And in general, I must be careful and not talk too much. Apparently, after lengthy interactions with Katashi, I had relaxed a bit and stopped watching what and how I spoke.
Allowing the priest to lead me to a preliminary energy measurement, I thus avoided both Reuters and their entourage. Perhaps I was overcautious, but the fact that the troublesome baron's heir had departed to his grandfather's, thereby leaving the Rur region and avoiding a meeting with me, brought considerable relief. I don't know why, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my deal with Sister Gertrude and what I told about the baron's heir's behavior in the region's taverns would somehow come back to haunt me. I was sincerely glad that this story, apparently, ended without any significant consequences.
I was even more pleased with the amount requested for the Transfer to Beziu, the city with Gates nearest to Katiyer. This amount turned out to be exactly half of the usual rates of the Temples of the Path. Definitely, being the Sheriff of the Book has its considerable perks.
Less than half an hour had passed since Baron Reuter left the temple walls, having sent his wayward son back to his kin, when the Gates, apparently, "recharged," and I was invited to use them. Climbing the symbolic five steps, I paused briefly before the arch of the Gates. I silently prayed that this time the Transfer would go without any complications. After which, holding my breath, I stepped into the misty veil of the Cloud Road.
It's not for nothing that Sundbad's Road is called Gates, Portals, or even simply and unpretentiously – Doors, albeit always with a capital letter. The standard principle of operation of these divine artifacts, from an outsider's perspective, is quite simple. You enter at one place and in an instant, you come out in another. As if by opening a door and stepping over the threshold, you step from one room into another. With the only difference being that these rooms are not in one house but can be separated by thousands of kilometers.
Unlike the previous use of the Sky Path Gates, which ended with an unexpected malfunction and me being thrown out onto a mountain slope near one of the Sidhe forests, this time everything worked as it should. One step back, I stood on the temple platform in the city of Minber, which is located in the central part of the Rur region, one step forward – and I am already stepping on an exactly similar platform, differing perhaps only in minor details, but already in another city named Beziu. The fact that I had arrived where I needed to was unambiguously indicated by the peaks of the Great Ridge discernible on the horizon.
"The Temple of Winding Paths welcomes the traveler," I heard, even before I could descend from the five symbolic steps in front of the Gates.
Sometimes, travelers passing through the Gates experience dizziness and temporary disorientation due to the sudden change of environment. Therefore, each person passing along the Cloud Road is usually met by a novice ready to assist at any moment. Since I needed no such help, I gestured to the novice to stop and continued on to the duty priest.
"Om Raven Alexandrite, Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild. Wootz rank. Arrived from the Temple of the Cloud Road."
After recording my details in the large book of arrivals, the priest smiled obligatorily and asked:
"Did your journey go well, and do you need any help?"
"By His name, the Path did not falter," I replied formally, "no help is required. Unless… I'm just passing through Beziu and haven't even had lunch yet. Could you recommend a decent tavern in town?"
Unlike the city guard, the priest was indifferent to my reason for arriving in the city and whether I planned to stay. To a servant of Sundbad, every person is a traveler free to go wherever they wish, within their physical and financial means, of course. Thus, without showing any undue curiosity, the priest recommended a couple of establishments with an understanding smile.
Located on the other side of a large lake from Katiyer, Beziu was an old city founded before the Fall. Its center was somewhat reminiscent of a three-times-reduced version of the main square in Tries. But that's where the resemblance to the eastern city ended. The ancient houses along once-straight streets had long since been replaced by newer, more unpretentious buildings. From the numerous cracks in the cobblestones, one could guess that the city had once experienced one or more major earthquakes. The solid buildings on the central square had survived these natural disasters, but the ordinary old-style houses had fallen into disrepair, and locals had built new ones from the stones. The city had long recovered from the destruction, and now only the cracks in the roadway and the new houses, built haphazardly without any unified plan, reminded of the past.
In Beziu, there was a rather large branch of the Tunnellers' Guild, but since I didn't plan to stay in this city, I decided not to visit it. Besides, I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention when there was no need. If I had decided to stay longer, it would have been worth checking out the guild's building not only to mark my presence but also to inquire about nearby dungeons and to study the Task Board - something intriguing might have been posted there. But currently, I wasn't looking for adventures, so I quickly crossed the central square and turned down the alley indicated by the priest Sundbad.
The establishment recommended by the servant of the god of Paths was easy to find. The smell of dinner cooking, wafting from the slightly open doors, indeed hinted that the cook knew his craft. And these pleasant aromas did not deceive - the stew served in the establishment was incredibly tender and moderately spicy. While dining, I ordered a basket of travel food. It wasn't too far to Katiyer; I just needed to cross the lake and walk about forty kilometers. For a warrior of Wootz, it was hardly a distance, but it was better not to neglect the opportunity to replenish supplies.
As soon as my order was brought, I paid and, thanking the cook, left the establishment. There was about an hour left until sunset, so I had time to use the ferry or hire a boatman. After asking a passing cleaner for directions to the dock, I quietly hummed as I headed in the right direction.
Surprisingly, at this time of day, the streets were not very crowded. The few passersby hurried about their business, and the occasional guards preferred to lean against the wall rather than patrol. Perhaps this was due to the light drizzle that had started recently.
Stopping at one of the intersections, considering which alley to turn down to get to the lake dock faster, I heard a loud slam of the door of an old alchemical shop, and someone's muffled, irritated, and somewhat angry male voice whispered:
"Penny pinchers, they'd choke over a dime!"
I turned around, realizing it was said in English.
Throwing on his hood to escape the misty drizzle, an unfamiliar earthling walked away from me after leaving the alchemy shop. Normally, I would have ignored him - earthlings are not uncommon in Ain, and everyone has their own affairs. However, one detail made me change my course and follow the man in the hood. The detail was that the one who left the alchemy shop in a disgruntled mood, like me, was at the Wootz Step. As far as I knew, at this stage, the best of the earthlings had barely reached the Steel level, and Vidar's group could attest to that. Of course, there were exceptions. Those like myself, Katashi, likely Arien and Scully, and possibly other Shards, who had already reached the Wootz rank.
The figure of the man in the hood was concealed by a long cloak, but he was definitely not as tall as Nate and Dice, nor as broad-shouldered. Who could it be? One of the lucky ones who simply happened to gain several high-ranked Achievements, a master above the level of Ronin earning his rank through adamantium feats, or one of the Shards unknown to me?
I had just opened my mouth to call out to the earthling, introduce myself, and make acquaintance when he suddenly stumbled. His figure blurred into a smoky shadow, merging with the shade from the nearest wall, and the stranger, accelerating sharply, vanished into the nearest alley. If not for my Affinity with Shadow, I likely wouldn't have noticed where he disappeared to.
An earthling and a Shadow adept? Moreover, at Wootz? My curiosity instantly quickened my blood. If this is a Shard, I must find out who it is!
Stepping closer to the walls, I wrapped myself in the "Shadow Cloak" and, in a few long strides, reached the alley where the man in the cloak had vanished, turning into it…