1 Soul Bound
1.1 Finding her Feet
1.1.7 An Extreme Response
1.1.7.20 Merge her
Wellington asked Spirit and Vessel Kafana to wait a little longer, talking not aloud to them but mind to mind:
Wellington: =I’d like to try an experiment. Can we try to dig a little into what The Immortals are up to in arlife? You picked up something about a mole from him, earlier, and I’d like to know more. Also, I’d like to see what this world allows Vessel-Kafana to learn about ours via mind magic.=
Unlike his voice when talking, Wellington’s thoughts were beautiful - clear with precision and sparkling with curiosity. It was as though putting his thoughts into words was incredibly limiting, like trying to appreciate the power of a flowing river by watching a trickle from a tap attached to it by a long thin pipe. The images accompanying his thoughts were multi-dimensional topological spaces of shifting possibilities that reminded her of Fra Gamal’s raid interface, but as drawn by Carlo and accompanied by Prokofiev - elegant, dancing and playful.
Spirit-Kafana: =Sure, I’ll guide. Vessel-Kafana, love you. Hang onto your hat, and feel free to drop out if the ride gets bumpy.=
Vessel-Kafana: =We are one. Where you go, I go. Show me something new.=
She started by willing the dreamscape back to the glimpse she’d previously had of a man in an aeroplane. This time the scene played out in full:
=He despised Ludwig Spreckels but he needed him. Spreckels wasn’t just powerful. It was power. The Spreckels dynasty had controlling interests in nearly 80% of the world’s internet media companies, by market share. They had their fingers around the throat of maybe 30% of political parties outside China, by electoral share. And most impressively, they owned nearly 8% of all privately held real estate in the world, by land area. They claimed they were a force for stability in the world, but that wasn’t why they did things.
What the Spreckels liked was power and ownership, in all its forms. Ludwig wasn’t particularly important in the family, but he shared their predilection, and in his case it took the form of visits to the Tsar's Colosseum, which was one of the places he recruited specialists for his little hobby, The Immortals=
=Show me The Immortals= she commanded, visualising him receiving a briefing.
=Ludwig held a pair of tiaras out to him and his wife. “You will use these devices to access the game. The superiors I set over you will see everything you see, hear every thought you think. I paid quite a bit for the pair of you in the auction. Show me you were worth saving. If you do, you will live a life of comparative ease, and even get the occasional supervised visits with each other.”
Ludwig didn’t need to specify what would happen if he was disappointed in them. Just the fact that they were going to be kept in rooms in separate cities was, in itself, a clear message.
“You will be joining a guild named The Immortals. In the game you will both have new names. In the game, my name is MalZeth. From now on, until I tell you otherwise, the game is your life. There is no such thing as arlife. Don’t even think of people’s arlife names. Forget them entirely. Remember we are watching your thoughts. Some thoughts will be penalised. Others rewarded. Now, choose your new names.”
Valentina had chosen VamaKali, the Goddess’ terrible form.
He’d chosen Kullervo because despite the hardships he’d been through, Kullervo had succeeded in killing all those who’d betrayed him. He liked the sound of that.=
=Show me the Colosseum= she sent to the dreaming Kullervo.
=He stood with his wife on the frozen dirt of Siberia, in an arena surrounded by cruel wire fences and unforgiving ex-military drones. High above, in a snuggly warm VIP area, recruiters were watching, to see if they were the pair who could be useful enough, ruthless enough. He saluted them with his bloody knife and Valentina did the same. The recruiters liked torture, demanded it. The pair of them turned back to the losers they’d just fought against, and started cutting.=
She fled Kullervo’s mind entirely, returning to her ghostly view of the Sanctum, trying to hold back the urge to vomit. Let Wellington try to find out more if he could stand it.
Tentatively she tried thinking directly to Vessel-Kafana. Would it work if they were linked like this but not in someone else’s mind?
Spirit-Kafana: =Vessel-Kafana, Spirit-Kafana here. Can you hear me?=
Vessel-Kafana: =Oh Cov, Self, that was terrible. Yes, I can hear/think/sense/be you.=
Spirit-Kafana: =Hey Self, I like that, nice thinking. And your thoughts fit, like an old armchair that’s worn to your exact shape. *feel of a comfort hug* did that work?=
Vessel-Kafana: =*return of hug* *joyous music*=
Spirit-Kafana: =*feel of rightness of unity* I want this to last forever. We try?=
Vessel-Kafana: =We can? Yes, of course I want also. I am you, Self=
Spirit-Kafana: =Mind-sing duet:
> There are two Halves, there is only one Self,
>
> There is only one Body, that is why we sing:
>
> Bind us together, Lun, bind us together
>
> Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
>
> With cords that cannot be broken.
>
> Bind us together, Rac, bind us together, Zer,
>
> Bind us together in love.
>
> There is only one Cov, there is only one Mor,
>
> There is only one Body, that is why we sing:
>
> Bind us together, Dro, bind us together
>
> With cords that cannot be broken.
>
> Bind us together, Bel, bind us together, Krev,
>
> Bind us together in love.
=
Kafana: =Together. *together feel*=
Her mind was larger now, had more room for thoughts, was spread out over two sets of senses. Had two sets of memories contributing to it. She watched from two angles as Isabella led the severing of the link joining Spirit-Kullervo and Vessel-Kullervo.
Vessel-Kullervo fell to his knees weeping. Lelio sent a fast rider out when the ex-Vessel explained that his children were being held by a member of The Immortals against his compliance. Kafana guessed that the children were actually long since dead - she’d seen the inside of Kullervo’s mind and doubted Ludwig would waste manpower on guards, when a bluff and two anonymous graves would do as well. It sickened her even to be able to understand them that much. She’d rather have retained a bit of innocence.
She watched Wellington and Ruffiana talk him through breaking the soul binding and emptying his stash, before being led away. He’d chosen to have his original form, saying he couldn’t stand being in Kullervo’s body, even though it had more years left in it - it felt unclean to him, bloodstained.
Rudolfo had The Bone Sword now, and the group she’d earlier brought in to harmony with him were analysing and testing it every which way they could, with Bungo, Vessel-Alderney and Bulgaria activating their shared senses group skill, then bringing in Rudolfo, Nastya and a tall thin player with a hawk-like face she hadn’t met before named Mycroft.
Nothing she could do there. She didn’t want to spend her last hours waiting and worrying. How could she distract herself? She looked at her ghost body. Doll dress up time! She faced it with her physical body, and started flicking through costumes.
*cool Kafana in feathered wings and mirrored sunglasses*
*opera diva Kafana* Ohh, part of herself liked that one.
*rocker Kafana in tight black leathers and chrome*
*elven maid Kafana reclining in a meadow with a grand harp, flowers in her hair*
Hmm, not quite. Think more solid, less fantasy. A Welsh Bard at an Eisteddfod. But take it back further in time. A female Taliesin, in robes suited for travel on the roads, or for playing to a Lord, the price of Bardic immunity - freedom to roam unattacked in return for bringing the news and entertainment to all who wanted it, no matter if they be lord or peasant, as long as they would gift you in return for your music according to their means.
Yes, that was a comfortable identity. At heart she wasn’t a cook or priestess - she was a singer. Not just a performer who entertained, but one who brought emotion and meaning, who connected people to each other, over distances physical, temporal and in attitudes.
*bardic Kafana* She looked back at herself and gave herself a thumbs up from where her ghostly body was hovering above the sword group. The group looked like they’d about finished. She walked over to them.
Kafana: “So what’s the news? We got a plan yet?”
Nastya shook her head, sadly: “We were able to confirm most of the stuff the mind team passed on about the sword, and even extract a little extra information.”
Alderney: “I’ve learned a lot about crafting. Mycroft is amazing. He’s got skills nobody else has even heard of. Did you know that complex enchantments can be split into pieces and even moved to different items?”
Mycroft said modestly: “I may have a wide variety of skills, but none of them are high level. I have found a few useful intersections when merging and upgrading, though. That’s the joy of taking the path less travelled - there are still surprises left.”
Nastya continued: “Mycroft thinks that a sufficiently strong Necromancer could release the devil from the sword, but doing so would then send your spirit off with the devil back to wherever they come from, which doesn’t help us. The most popular plan is to give the sword to a necromancer we trust, have him or her try to bond it, and then use it to trap Kullervo’s spirit, which might replace the spirit currently in the trap.”
Wellington: “But there are several problems with that plan. How strong is the devil? And what does the necromancer do then? Face permadeath themself? Volunteer as the city’s executioner? And who do we pick?”
She left them to it and went over to Tomsk and Lelio, telling them what had been discovered. Tomsk looked serious, as she described the Colosseum.
Tomsk: {This is in Russia you say? It does not surprise me, but I do take offense at its existence. Since Kullervo is awake, let us ask him if he knows where it is.}
Kafana went over to Kullervo, and willed him into the group. She revelled in her new united Self. She seemed to have a lot more willpower available. Perhaps INT and CHA, the constituents of the willpower stat, were attributes of the spirit not the body, meaning she now had a double dose?
Kafana: {Kullervo, the people remaining at the Colosseum need to be freed. Tomsk is willing to do this, if you know its location. Is this an objective you share?}
Spirit-Kullervo: {You have read my mind and found Ludwig’s identity through me. No matter what happens in this game, I have hours at best to live. So, sure, why not? The Colosseum is at Ostrova Rautan, run by a man called the Tsar. Though I would guess that, in the event of a rescue, the drones are set to kill all the captives. Best to put it under observation and catch the Tsar when he’s outside, then get him to disarm the grid.}
Tomsk: {You know they plan to trap your spirit to free Kafana’s. Why have you not logged out?}
Spirit-Kullervo: {I would get some satisfaction from spiteing her, as she and her friends have thwarted me so much. But I would far rather spend my time hurting Ludwig’s little hobby. Besides, you are doomed anyway Kafana. I have trapped souls before, when another was still in the trap. It did not free them. Devils never give anything up unless they gain from the trade. Greed drives them as much as a desire for status and a fear of losing face.}
Tomsk: {These Spreckels, you feel they are much like devils?}
Spirit-Kullervo: {For both of them, the ultimate proof of power is making others do things they do not wish to do, cheating them and blatantly getting away with it.}
Tomsk: {So your wife is now?}
Spirit-Kullervo: {Exactly so. All that’s left is revenge.}
Kafana: {Then I shall leave the two of you to talk of Immortals and how to hurt them.}
She needed a third option.