Adjusting the backpack I had taken from under the stone slab, which I had previously broken with the Des rune, I followed Rikhard, pausing for a moment under the uneven arch of the ruined entrance gates, and stepped into the daylight. Judging by the position of the sun and Dairin, it was already nearing evening. The entire journey, the descent, and then the climb through the tiers had taken us about twenty hours.
The return trip was not as difficult as I had imagined, but it took more time since we moved very cautiously. Thanks to the marks I had left, we didn't even have to wander, and the way back was found quite easily. The hardest part was the climb back up using the spikes driven in by Dvarwin. After all, jumping up between metal pegs is far different from the same jumps downward. Nevertheless, I managed. As for the various monsters, we hardly encountered any.
The only relatively serious skirmish occurred when I finished climbing the spikes and emerged on the seventh tier. On the now familiar underground square, two stone trolls were roaming. The granite monsters immediately noticed me and charged. Using the experience gained from clearing the Garnet Grotto, I employed the Rune of Movement and sent this pair of dull creatures flying into the bottomless abyss. Watching the stone carcasses silently fall into the darkness, I felt a bit regretful that I wouldn't be able to harvest their "hearts." However, my regret was more feigned than sincere. In reality, honestly fighting face-to-face with multi-ton monsters while standing on the edge of a chasm was not the best idea, and the potential loot was clearly not worth the risk. Later, on the fifth tier, we were attacked by small rockjaws. But since they were roughly at the Steel level, and there were only about ten of them, they didn't cause much trouble.
The last - third - skirmish with the monsters took place on the third floor. As we were making our way through a narrow corridor, we had the misfortune to encounter a brood of coal rats, and these creatures, unable to escape in the confined space, attacked us with a furious squeal. To my surprise, as soon as I gripped my spear more comfortably, Rikhard stepped out from behind my back and incinerated a third of the monsters. Interstingly, he skillfully utilized two rather weak spells: "Fan of Lesser Fire" and the household spell "Fresh Wind," which locals used for drying things. This combination, where a fresh stream of air provides additional oxygen to the fire magic, performed on the level of a decent Wootz spell. Moreover, the guy figured out such an enhancement on his own, combining earthly knowledge with the magical practice of Ain. It didn't take me much effort to finish off the remaining rats.
To my slight disappointment, throughout this journey, I earned only a few insignificant Achievements, not worth mentioning. It was clear why Ain rated this descent through the tiers so low for me - for I essentially did nothing, and Dwarvin had done all the work. Nevertheless, it was a bit frustrating. Just a little.
"How nice!" When we emerged from the mountain, the earthling turned his face to the sunlight and, squinting, stretched.
"What's so nice?" I responded with a hint of sarcasm. "You said you grew to love these caves, underground grottos, and this ancient city."
"Ha-ha..." Rikhard broke into nervous laughter. "After our journey, I prefer to love dungeons platonically. That is, from a distance."
Unsurprisingly so, considering that, while we were walking back, he had buzzed my ears off about how scared he was sitting alone in that crevice where Dwarvin had thrown him. According to the guy, he prayed to all the gods that the potion he drank at the dwarf's insistence would work and that no one would find him. The earthling vividly described what he felt when he heard the heavy tread of stone trolls just a few steps away from him.
To be honest, I didn't like Rikhard. Too talkative, a bit cowardly. But he had positive sides too. He didn't give up where many would sit and do nothing, pitying themselves. Moreover, the guy was quite smart, loved solving various puzzles, and turned out to be an erudite person.
"We were fortunate that there weren't many monsters on the way back," Rikhard shivered, casting a wary glance at the rock behind which the entrance to the undermountain stronghold disappeared.
"Well, if you consider Master Baghtan our luck, then you're right." Meeting the earthling's puzzled look, I explained, "This place is neither a dungeon nor an underground lair. The city is just as much a part of this world as everything around it. Unlike dungeons, monsters and creatures here don't respawn on their own but are part of the local ecological system."
"Ecological?"
"Not quite the right word, but you get the idea. So, when Master Baghtan descended before us and cleared out all the monsters he met along the way, their population simply didn't have time to recover. Or rather, not many creatures from other parts of the city had yet come to the suddenly freed-up space."
Talking like this, we reached Rikhard's camp. The earthling immediately rushed to his belongings and, after inspecting the site, sank onto the stone that acted as his stool with immense relief.
"Everything is in place, nothing was stolen," he said with an uncertain smile.
"Are you kidding?" My right eyebrow involuntarily raised at his words. "As long as Master Baghtan is around, no local in their right mind would come here."
"No local would?" The earthling scratched the back of his head in doubt.
"Well, if someone passing by happened to be on the Heroic Coil and really disliked dwarves, then such a person might show up here if they heard rumors from the locals. But people like that don't need your things, and that's putting it mildly. Besides, there's peace between humans and dwarves now, so even that situation is purely hypothetical."
"How do you know? About the peace between dwarves and humans?" the guy asked, tilting his head.
"Unlike you, I don't live alone like a hermit. I study the world and know how to listen."
"Sorry," the earthling lowered his eyes under my disapproving gaze and began rummaging through his things.
"I'm going southwest. I can take you to the nearest city." It wasn't difficult for me, so why not help?
"Thanks," Rikhard nodded and, without lifting his head from his belongings, added, "But I'll pass."
"You're planning to stay here?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Why? You've lifted the questers' curse."
Before responding, the earthling took out his notes and showed me a sheet that was two-thirds filled.
"I have very little left to do to complete the map of the next tier. And considering that each of these maps earned me quite significant Achievements... Moreover, the lower the floor, the more substantial the Achievement was." The guy seemed to listen to himself. "By lifting the curse and making this journey, I also gained some Core energy. So, according to my calculations, as soon as I complete this map, I'll be ready for Steel."
"But aren't you afraid to be alone in such a place?" I asked.
"You know, I've somehow gotten used to it," the earthling answered guilelessly, shrugging. "So, you're leaving?"
"The road doesn't wait," I said, spreading my arms.
He clearly wanted to ask me where I was hurrying off to or something similar, but at the last moment, he changed his mind and reached for the pot.
"Night is coming soon; will you leave tomorrow morning?"
"No. I'm leaving now," I replied firmly.
"Won't you even stay for dinner?" With these words, the earthling, like a magician, pulled a bottle of wine from one of his bags. "I was planning to celebrate lifting the curse."
"A strong argument," I laughed, dropping my backpack to the ground.
We prepared a simple dinner and then drank the wine, which turned out to be surprisingly good. All this time, I tried to impart to Rikhard as much knowledge as possible, of the kind that any traveler in Ain could learn if they kept their ears and eyes open. Yes, I didn't like the guy, but he was one of us, and the two hours I stayed were not critical for me. Moreover, Rikhard talked about the surrounding area, which saved me from searching for the right path. About an hour before sunset, we said our goodbyes. The earthling stood on the slope for a long time, watching me leave. I felt his gaze but didn't look back even once...
Descending the slope of the ancient mountain, I once again listened to my own sensations. Dwarvin's treatment was not in vain, and I already felt recovered from the terrible wound. However, I still couldn't fully believe it and was cautious at first. Only after conducting several tests and a small warm-up did I become confident in my strength and switched to a steady run.
When the sun rose, I tried to use "Spirit Armor." Alas, it turned out even worse than during our last training session with Master Baghtan. Nevertheless, I didn't despair, aware that patience and hard work can overcome everything. The more I trained, the more clearly I understood why the original version of the "Armor" was beyond ordinary people. The reason lies in the fact that, unlike us, dwarves are not predisposed to magic at all. They only have access to Spirit, and their Core is filled exclusively with prana without the slightest trace of mana. This is the difficulty. In the human Core, the flows of mana and prana are mixed, like two colliding rivers. As a result, most people are simply unable to isolate perfectly pure prana, as well as mana. I, thanks to the Perfect Core, which had more evenly balanced currents, managed to find a section of pure prana. Using this energy, I was able to reproduce the dwarves' original version of the spell. Without the Perfect Core, I wouldn't have succeeded, no matter how hard I tried or how much time I spent on attempts to learn. But even so, I felt that I was only at the very beginning of a long journey. Fully mastering the "Spirit Armor of the Great Forge" would take me at least three weeks, and that was the most optimistic estimate.
This spell was invented by the dwarves during their first war with the Sidhe, and it was largely thanks to it that the undermountain people were able to win back then. Maintaining the "Spirit Armor of the Great Forge" around my hand, albeit for a fraction of a second, made me realize how much stronger this version of the spell was compared to what was available to "me" in the Last Cycle. Every time it worked, and I felt the flows of prana enveloping my hand, a genuine smile involuntary appeared on my face. Definitely, it was not in vain that I decided to return to Katashi by a different route. Yes, I almost died, having encountered Ridan. But such events were beyond the scope of my analytical abilities, and it was quite possible that something even more dangerous awaited me around the next corner. I was powerless to prevent such a turn of events.
Jinxed it...
As soon as I turned at the first bend in the animal trail after these thoughts, I emerged into a small clearing where I was awaited.
"I thought I still have a couple of days left," I said instead of a greeting, exhaling heavily.
"Are these days so important?" the quester asked with fake concern.
"Not exactly..."
Before I could finish, the quester waved his hand, and three small clay tablets, the size of a palm, appeared before me, floating in the air at arm's length. Another wave, and a calligraphy brush joined the tablets.
I pondered for a few seconds whether to make a scene, since the time allotted for the task of composing the Rune Word "Life" had not yet expired. But then, suppressing this inner protest, I reached out, and the brush immediately jumped into my hand. The other end of it was sharpened, and I realized what I needed to use as ink. Trying to keep a calm expression, I cut my left hand and dipped the brush into my blood.
The Rune of Birth lay on the first tablet.
The Rune of Path on the second.
A confident wave of my hand - and the third tablet bore the Rune of Death.
As soon as the last stroke was in place, the brush disappeared from my hand, and the tablets with the symbols of the Divine Speech moved away from me. In a second, they formed a triangle and began to rotate slowly. With each turn, I realized more and more why the tablets had taken the shape of a closed figure.
Birth - Path - Death - Birth...
And through this motion, it seemed to me that another rune was woven into the structure I had drawn. I did not know this Rune, but with some inexplicable sense, I understood it to be the Rune of Time. Watching this mesmerizing rotation, I felt that I gradually Comprehended. But I couldn't fully grasp it. I sensed that it was not just a word, not just a set of runes, but something much, much grander.
A concept...
Only no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't comprehend it truly. The dance of the tablets formed such a beautiful pattern that tears came to my eyes because I couldn't fully grasp the meaning of what they composed while being put together. I could catch a glimpse, get closer, but not Comprehend, and this inability made me physically sick.
When I fell to my knees, and my eyes saw nothing because of the tears that filled them, the quester said something, and the Word disappeared. The tablets, empty and devoid of the Runes, dropped to the ground.
The enchantment, as well as the frustration with my own inability to Comprehend, immediately disappeared, but even so, it took me three deep breaths to regain my composure. Rising to my feet, I bowed and said in a hoarse voice:
"Thank you for allowing me to see." I wasn't trying to flatter or joke; I spoke from the heart.
"Life is very complex. The way you composed the Word is just one of many thousands of ways to 'write' it."
For a moment, I broke into a cold sweat, as it seemed that the quester would not count the task as completed.
"Your answer is accepted." After a minute's pause, which this bastard apparently took specifically to torment me, the quester finally said. "More than two thousand years ago, two brothers, who had previously lived in harmony, fell in love with the same woman..." The quester unexpectedly began to tell a story, waved his hand at me, and slowly walked somewhere. Following him, I listened to his quiet words. "And the younger brother challenged the elder to a duel. For three days and three nights, the brothers fought, and neither could gain the upper hand." Not understanding the purpose of his story, I nonetheless tried not to miss a single word. "They would have continued this duel further, but the woman they were fighting for couldn't bear their quarrel and killed herself in front of the brothers." A tragic tale, but I still couldn't understand what it had to do with me. "Stopping the battle, the brothers, over the body of their beloved, swore on blood never to raise weapons against each other again... This story happened very close to these places." We reached a full-flowing stream, and the quester stopped on its bank. "Look under the stone." He pointed to a granite boulder that caused the stream to bend.
Still not understanding anything, I strained all my strength, lifted the boulder, and barely managed to catch some rag. A scrap of fabric that had apparently been lying under the stone, pressed by its weight. As soon as I freed it, the swift current immediately seized the scrap. Nevertheless, I was faster than the water flow and managed to grab it. It was a small piece of an ordinary cheap linen belt, without any signs of decorations or embroidery. Ten centimeters long and three centimeters wide. Trash. Just trash, worth nothing at all. Moreover, it had stains of blood on it. The entire piece of fabric was soaked in it. Although this was strange, ordinary fabric could not lie there so long and remain intact, yet this one hadn't faded, hadn't rotted, and the blood on it somehow looked fresh. It made no sense, as the water should have washed away any blood long ago. Rinsing the scrap, I realized that the bloodstains had no intention of coming off under the streams of running water and still looked as if the blood had been spilled on them just a couple of minutes ago.
"Thousands of years is a long time," the quester standing on the bank said. "The mound that the brothers built for the dead girl has since crumbled. Earthquakes, landslides, underground waters."
"This rag is part of her clothing?" I clarified after a long silence.
"Yes. A piece of her belt."
"Why do I need this?"
"This is your reward for completing the task," the quester replied very seriously, bowing his head.
"This? A reward?!" I burst out, and just as I was about to express everything I thought about such rewards, the words stuck in my throat...
No. It can't be. Really?! My hand holding the bloodied scrap began to tremble slightly.
"Those two brothers..." I said in a hoarse voice. "Their names..."
"You understood everything," the quester nodded to me.
And for the next three minutes, I could only gasp for air, silently examining the piece of fabric soaked with the blood of two gods.
"But..." I finally managed to say. "I don't know what to do with this!"
"If you don't like the reward, give it to us," the quester demanded, extending his hand.
"No way! I'll find a use for it myself!"
Having leaped a couple of meters and landed on the other side of the stream, I carefully folded the precious fabric and placed it in a free pocket on my belt, the one closer to my body. The quester shrugged indifferently and even stepped back.
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"Soon, we will announce a new task for the sortudo," he said. "You know it."
If I knew it, then it was the same quest they gave in the Last Cycle. Nodding, I said:
"To fill one of my Talents up to four Stars."
"Correct," the quester nodded. "The deadline is six months."
"Why are you telling me this if you could have just given the quest?"
"You are given the right to choose." Did he smile, or was it just my imagination? "Take on this task or accept another, personal one."
"What's the catch?" I asked, licking my dry lips.
"Choosing the personal task means you cannot refuse it."
And here I started to think. The common task only seemed simple; in reality, it was quite challenging for most earthlings. The past "me," for instance, completed it just a week before the deadline. But the current me could finish it much more easily. It's one thing to fill four Stars out of four, as I had back then, meaning I had to reach my limit in just six months. But filling four Stars out of five is an entirely different matter, it is much easier. I already had three full Stars in the spear, meaning three, at most four months, and the next Star would be full, too, if I continued training at the same pace.
The common task was safe for me, but the reward wouldn't be great. The personal quest... My hand involuntarily touched the belt where I had hidden the blood-soaked piece of clothing... It promised rewards of an entirely different level. The classic dilemma: a bird in the hand or two in the bush?
"I choose the personal task," I said, biting my cheek and mentally cursing myself for my greed.
"Complete one of Aerad's Labyrinths. The deadline is the same, six months."
Having said that, the quester immediately disappeared, and I, exhausted from these negotiations, collapsed to the ground.
Complete an Aerad's Labyrinth?
According to legends, there were five of them. No one knew where three of them were, only rumors: one was in the northern ice, the second in the southern seas, the third somewhere in the eastern jungles. The priests of the god of history had been searching for them for two thousand years but had not been able to determine their exact locations. The fourth was on the seventy-fifth floor of Aerad's tower, and within six months I certainly would not be able to even reach it. The last one, the fifth, was the only option. I knew where it was, and unlike the priests, I could reach it. I had seen it with my own eyes in the Last Cycle. It was on the Tyberian Plateau, and I remembered the path to it.
Technically, if my development pace didn't slow down, I could reach it within the allotted time. Yes, I would have to fight with orcs, but there were options here.
The other part was more complicated. Aerad's Labyrinths didn't have a clear structure, and for each entrant, the same labyrinth could vary significantly. Even Morpheus, despite all his intelligence, couldn't pass through the Labyrinth, only by some miracle finding a way out of it without reaching the goal. I had no idea how I would handle this task if the smartest person I'd met in two worlds failed.
"I should have chosen a bird in the hand." Sadly smiling, I reached for my belt but decided against taking out my reward and simply patted the steel plate.
Hmm... The reward bestowed upon me by the questers was certainly impressive! And although the blood on the fragment of the belt was not entirely divine in the full sense of the word, since the Fifth - the lowest - flight of the Divino Stairway was the flight of Demigods and True Heroes, not "full-fledged deities," still, I couldn't even imagine the value of this item. Half the treasures of Deytran? However, it didn't matter; I was not going to sell it anyway. No way! And even though I didn't know how the blood of Jegur and Evelan could be useful to me, only a complete idiot would trade such an Artifact for gold.
I should have already been used to all the wonders of Ain and meetings with questers, but I was still a bit shaken. And the fragment of ancient fabric hidden in the belt did not contribute to my calmness.
Not risking continuing on in such an unsteady state, I decided to make camp right here. Besides, the water in the stream was perfectly clean, as confirmed by a household water spell, so I quickly brewed some tea and cooked a not-very-tasty but quite nutritious porridge. Having filled my stomach and sipping hot tea, I calmed down, steadied my hands, and considered the situation with a clearer mind.
A brief analysis of my dialogue with the quester showed that things weren't so bad after all. I had expected to receive some achievement or a new set of Runes as a reward for completing the task with the Word. But I had already reached the limit of the First Wall, and didn't need a new Achievement that much. As for the Runes, the questers could reward me with those that would be difficult to apply. And although I didn't yet understand how to use the blood of two demigods, I was sure I had been allowed to find something unique.
Moreover, the way I "found" this scrap of fabric made me think that questers could grant such rewards not only to me. For example, Scully's enchanted rope. What if the Australian received it in a similar manner? I mulled this thought over and found no contradictions in my theory. If so, what seemed to be the luck of the Shards in the previous Cycle could very well have been the questers' reward for individual tasks. It wasn't certain that my theory was correct, but it was definitely worth keeping in mind.
Another rather curious thing was the "process" of awarding itself. The quester did not hand me the scrap of ancient fabric personally. He didn't throw it at my feet. No, he allowed me to find it. And most likely, that piece of fabric could have lain under that stone in the stream for centuries. An interesting nuance. Which confirmed the thoughts that questers preferred to act indirectly, through others. Or they did not "prefer," but had some unknown restrictions on their freedom of action. Well, or they deliberately behaved this way so that I would form an opinion about the presence of such restrictions.
Damn it! I hated such riddles; both possibilities were equally likely. Nevertheless, either could be used to my advantage. Although it wasn't yet clear how... But that was just for now. Morpheus taught me that no information was useless, and even what seemed the most useless fact could find its application.
After dinner, I settled down to rest and, waking up just two hours later, felt surprisingly refreshed despite having barely slept in recent days. Getting to my feet, I stretched and realized that I didn't even need to resort to stamina potions to continue my journey. After packing my belongings, I extinguished the smoldering embers and cleaned up the campsite so that anyone who found it would think it had been abandoned at least a week ago.
Spinning Striking Whisper so that the leaves on a nearby tree trembled from the raised wind, I pondered my further route. The main goal remained unchanged: return to Katashi and participate in the final stage of creating my armor. It also wouldn't hurt to visit Bogash's Tomb again and retrieve the dark artifacts from there, more so since I now had something to carry them in, thanks to my meeting with Scully. The benefits of this were limited. But, firstly, I would help good people, and secondly, money was never superfluous.
But from where I was now, I could reach the region of Rur by two paths. The first one, which I originally planned, led southwest to the city of Nimartz and from there through the Gates to Stolmid, which was just a stone's throw from the Tomb. The second was somewhat longer, leading to the city of Palanat, where there were also the Gates of Sundbad, and went directly south. Its advantage was that along the way I could stop by the small temple of Aerad, which Rikhard mentioned. Someday, I would have to visit one of the temples of the God-Chronicler anyway, so why not now?
This thought seemed quite interesting. But after thinking for five minutes, I still settled on the first option. The temple of Aerad, of course, was intriguing, but to find something worthwhile in the ancient chronicles would take me days or even weeks. At this stage, I could not afford such a loss of pace. Naturally, it was interesting to see how the priests of the God of History would receive the Sheriff of the Book, considering that Ishid and Aerad often allied in many godly conflicts. Also, the fact that Sundbad, who had friendly relations with Aerad, seemed to have taken notice of me, was promising. Sundbad charted new Paths and constantly got into adventures, while Aerad was interested in recording all of that, so it was quite likely that the priests of the Chronicler would look favorably upon my requests. But this could indeed wait. Having made my decision, I adjusted the straps of my backpack and, orienting myself by the stars, ran southwest.
As usual, I didn't just run but also made sure to train. Naturally, I dedicated the lion's share of these training sessions to the "Spirit Armor" while the memories of Master Baghtan's instructions were still fresh. And since it was very tricky to catch a pure thread of prana on the move, complicating the process, it became decent training by itself. For spells like the Armor often had to be cast in less-than-calm environments.
After an hour, I realized that all my attempts were failing. But instead of postponing the practice until a rest stop, I broke the spell into its components: isolating pure prana, weaving the flows, and the final stage - applying the Armor. I then began practicing only the first part. This kind of division of spells into blocks was not common in Ain. More precisely, the magical practices of this world had not yet reached such methodologies. I had been taught these methods of mastering complex spells during the Last Cycle by Arien. To be precise, not by her personally, but I had attended the general lectures of her guild, where the future goddess of Elemental Magic shared her developments with her guildmates.
To Nimartz, which turned out to be quite a large city for these parts, with a population of about fifty thousand and the capital of the local kingdom, I arrived closer to noon. Which was a very good result since the city was about two hundred kilometers away from Throne Peak in a straight line. During this time, I had learned to steadily harness pure prana, but the process itself was still slow. This phase of the spell took me almost five minutes, which was utterly unacceptable in a combat situation. Nevertheless, I was still pleased because I had learned to extract pure prana from the Core with confidence and precision. As for the duration of the process, it could be improved with practice and even more practice.
Nimartz greeted me with a noisy crowd in front of the gates. After passing the line and presenting the Sheriff's Sign to the guards, I entered without any issues. At first, I thought there was some kind of fair going on, given how many people were around, but I quickly realized that wasn't the case. The city was bustling, and despite the relatively early hour, the streets were filled with crowds of drunken people who were loudly praising the generosity of Sundbad. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. In both Cycles, I had never seen anything like this. People were extolling the generosity of the god of Paths? It was unusual and strange. I tried to ask passersby what the celebration was about, but none of them could give a coherent answer.
I had to literally push my way through the dense throngs of people to get to the central square, actively using my elbows and body. At every intersection, there was a cart with barrels full of beer and wine, freely distributed to anyone who wanted it. This explained both the crowd of peasants at the gate and the number of drunk people in the streets. This kind of thing usually happened during the festival of Sino or a coronation or royal wedding, but for everyone to be praising Sundbad like this? All my experience fell short of explaining this fact. The priests of the god of Paths were notorious misers, so what could have happened for them to decide to get the ENTIRE city drunk?
Having finally squeezed my way to the central square where the Temple of the Pantheon was located, I stumbled upon a colorful service. Priests of different gods were doing their best to entertain the crowds. At the center of it all stood the servants of Sundbad in ceremonial attire. I listened to what they were proclaiming and was even more amazed. In honor of some Great Miracle, the priests of the God of Paths not only offered free drinks to the entire city but also granted a fifty percent discount on the use of the Gates for two days. Furthermore, they promised not to charge anything for their blessings during this period.
For me, this was as unexpected as if Dwarvin had decided not to descend the tiers but to fly up into the sky, vanishing in the clouds. Careful inquiries of those standing nearby about "what exactly is happening and what the celebration is for" resulted in so many versions that I couldn't distinguish which of them was true and which was a colorful exaggeration. And the common elements of what I heard sounded like the ravings of a madman, definitely not to be trusted.
From my height, I scanned the square again and noticed a very young novice of Sundbad who was clearly lost in the midst of the events and trying to fend off the thankful crowd. The lad's face was pale; he seemed genuinely afraid that the drunken townspeople would trample him in their gratitude. Pushing through the crowd like an icebreaker, I grabbed the novice and dragged him aside, smacking the hands of the particularly zealous. After that, I took the lad, who seemed to be barely sixteen judging by his Copper Rank, to a quiet corner.
"Thank you," the novice thanked me once he caught his breath. "I thought they would tear me to pieces!"
Judging by his torn clothes, these fears were quite justified, as the gratitude of a drunken crowd can take many forms.
"Om Raven Alexandrite, Sheriff of the Book." At these words, the lad jumped up and bowed deeply. "Can you tell me what the celebration is for? People on the streets are talking nonsense."
"You see, esteemed Om, a great holiday, a Great Miracle."
"Details, please."
The young man began to tell his story. And the longer I listened, the more astonished I became. It turned out that someone had managed to restore a broken Sundbad Gates! Not in Nimartz itself, of course, but in one of the cities far to the west. Nevertheless, it was truly a Miracle. Until now, this had only happened once before, when the Artifactors' Guild, in conjunction with the Alchemists' Guild, managed to repair one of the Gates more than three centuries ago. But that had only happened once in the entire history of Ain, and now it had occurred again.
I clearly remembered that in the Last Cycle, nothing like this had happened. Yes, about a year later, in the midst of the Invasion, Katashi learned to repair the Gates, but by then, no one was in the mood for celebrations. And now someone had managed to restore a part of the Great Road, and this someone was definitely not the Japanese. He was busy with my armor and had not yet reached that level of skill and knowledge to accomplish such a feat.
Of course, the young novice, who had donned priestly robes only a month ago, was not told the details. But the lad knew how to listen and learned quite a bit, thanks to keeping his ears "perked up." According to his story, two people had entered one of Sundbad's Sealed Temples. That Temple had been sealed precisely because its Gates were not working. They entered, did something, and the Gates came back to life. This happened ten days ago.
"Why is the celebration now if the Gates started working ten days ago?" I asked.
"Well, esteemed Om, it had to be verified. Priests from Pentapolis itself arrived to check it out."
Clear and logical. Yes, the Gates came back to life, but such an event indeed needed to be verified, the Road needed to be tested. Only after thorough verification was it announced.
"As far as I know, even Sealed Temples are guarded, so how did two outsiders get in?" I asked, not hiding my surprise.
"So much for that guard." The novice shrugged. "A dozen priests sent to watch over the malfunctioning Gates as a punishment."
"And yet..."
The young man looked around and whispered:
"They say that one of those two was Ridan the Honest Sword himself. A multiple champion of Deytran! Could such a fighter be stopped by priests serving a sentence, none of whom had crossed the First Wall?"
"And who was the second one?" I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse.
"No one knows," the novice whispered even quieter. "No one saw his face."
"Are you sure it was him, not her?" I clarified.
"Yes, exactly. Brother Sundar, who brought this news to our city, while telling the abbot, was firmly convinced that the second was a man and that he was the one who fixed the Gates."
"And what happened to those two afterward?"
"They left."
"Left?"
"Yes. Ridan went through the Gate to somewhere in the east, and the second man just disappeared into the city. Can you imagine, esteemed Om, instead of receiving a huge reward for the Great Miracle, they just left…"
I couldn't get anything more coherent out of the novice. Ridan and the stranger repaired the Gate? Nonsense! But judging by the celebration organized by the priests of Sundbad, it was not nonsense but reality.
I couldn't wrap my head around it...