Salem smelled… his grandma’s kitchen.
He could smell the sesame biscuits baking. He watched her back as she hummed while vigorously juicing some lemons, occasionally flicking seeds and pulps from the strainer.
His favourite afternoon snack that he learned to make from her. Sesame biscuits and sweet freshly-made lemonade.
He was hiding under the table. An old, torn cookbook in his hands. He couldn’t read it, but he liked to watch the pictures.
Then another voice intruded on his memory. “[Instantaneous Consumption]. [Ambrosia-glazed Phoenix Roast].”
Salem’s eyes shot wide open as he gasped for breath, then he immediately coughed out the burnt smell that filled his lungs.
Chef Helene was helping him up, checking his chest. Salem wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. He felt great. He’d never felt this good.
Then he looked down.
The whole front was covered with blood. He started panicking and Chef Helene held both of his hands. “It’s healed. You’re okay. Breathe.”
Salem took a second to understand what she said, and nodded dumbly. Right behind her, only a couple of feet from his station, was a mound of misshapen coals surrounded by scorch marks on the floor and against the wooden cupboards.
“It’s going to be alright. For now, follow the Agent to your chambers. And stay there. Alright?”
Salem obeyed.
----------------------------------------
The great palace of Mycenae floated in the center of the Realm, visible from far and wide. At the heart of the city, in the richest and most vibrant section, a broad and breathtaking staircase rose out of the perfectly manicured landing up into the sky, all the way to the palace. The stairs were made of colored quartz, and occasionally the neighborhood would see demigods and gods go up those stairs to meet with their queen, offer gifts and beg for favors.
The court was the stuff of legends, and it was common knowledge that it made up only a small part of the castle. There were many more rooms and chambers only the queen had access to. Rooms full of wondrous gifts. Of treasures. Her own quarters. And whenever someone arrived in Mycenae and looked up, they wondered; was she there? Would she look over them, if they were worthy enough?
Rustom didn’t need to wonder. He knew that her real home–her current location–wasn’t even accessible without a portal summoned by Queen Hera herself.
It was an above average home. A small mansion, with a wide garden that surrounded a lake larger than the city over which the palace hovered. It had gateless walls in front of which one of his bodies was now calmly waiting.
He knew she could see him. This was her Realm. She could see and sense everyone in it.
He could tell by the spike of wrath that followed him arriving at her doorstep. By how the purple and red clouds rumbled and grew darker. By the bolts of ichor-violet lightning that fell on him.
They would never get past his barrier, though.
Rustom just wished she would save them both some time and invite him in. He would have appeared in front of her, but he didn’t want to push it. He knew there was a limit to how hard he could push the pride of gods.
He waited for her tantrum to end, switching his focus to Tinecea. Simultaneously, he flagged the agent of the Guild of Souls in the guild system, not expecting anything to come out of it. They broke their privacy rules often. Especially when it involved those who couldn’t hold them accountable. The breach notice would be overlooked by the branch head once he got his own share of the profits.
Another one of his bodies stepped through the portal connecting Tinicea to the third Hall of Champions. As he did, he dispelled the spell of a Gold Deck-user that had no business interfering with a battle involving Bronze Champions.
Of course, Rustom had no intention of intervening either. He’d watch this situation play out. And no one else was allowed to put their fingers on the scale.
Enough of that had happened already.
The Gold-rank was trying to guess at his intent. He still believed Rustom was a regular Hall Agent.
“There–,” Lumovik Levi Kalligeros began, coughed, then continued. “There is a bounty on their head. They are accomplices of a fugitive.”
“So?”
Lumovik’s color began to drain from his face. He swallowed. “I’ve had orders. The Theocracy of Pyr cannot disobey a direct request from the Godqueen. The consequences would be dire.”
Rustom kept his eyes on the fight. “There will be consequences either way, Lumovik Kalligeros. I’m aware of your recent actions. I’m aware of the spies you planted in my Hall. And I’m even aware of your dealings with local threats. I don’t begrudge you any. Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors. And we need our Champions to be skillful.” Then Rustom turned to face Lumovik, and the latter immediately looked down. He had already fallen to his knees. “Trying to collect their bounties on my doorsteps, though? That will have consequences.”
“I deeply apologize, Lord Rustom,” Lumovik whispered, while sweat beaded down his neck. “Am I allowed to recall my people? We would leave immediately.”
“No.”
Lumovik looked up, eye wide. Rustom didn’t look at him. “We will both see this battle through. The Champions might lose. Or they might win. And if they do, they’ll get their first experience with looting another Deck-user. But you, you’ll lose either way. Let that be a lesson.”
----------------------------------------
Esther exhaled slowly, and her eyes flicked to her newest card. She still had second thoughts about using it… but at this point, she was just stalling. And she was putting them all at risk.
She had used all of her AP to get her hands on this card. Even sold some cards. Because it was worth it. And because she needed it.
Wilbur was their frontline. He took the hits and created space for them. Salem’s mission was food. And Frank–to her annoyance–was going all in on grass. He’d spent the evening back in their chambers picking up cups and clothes with a vine. Like some weird snake charmer.
For fuck’s sake, Frank.
That left her with the role of firepower. Something she had been lacking and even getting worse at. Even her throwing daggers were falling behind. Everyone had defenses against thrown bullshit and some could even afford to ignore it.
She leaned aside and caught the following chop with a [Balesteel Knife] before thrusting [Dazing Stiletto] forward.
The majordomo jumped back, but that was okay. She had already tagged him once with it, so that made it easier to keep up with him.
Now, she could use him to test what this new card was capable of.
Alright. Here goes nothing.
[Ravenous Rhapsody].
----------------------------------------
Frank jumped back, barely escaping another backhand that would have broken his arm for good this time. Ahead of him, Wilbur landed another good punch, but those didn’t seem to be doing much.
We need to get him a weapon. The problem was that any weapon for his Suit would be too large and heavy for him to carry in his smaller form. And he had explained to them that he couldn’t have other cards other than the Suit.
That problem was going to need some resolving in the next 48 hours. If they managed to make it through this.
Tasos blew up Wilbur’s thigh with a kick. Wilbur had tried to slow the kick down with some soft clay, but it hadn’t been enough. He tumbled down on his hand and elbow while Tasos loomed over him.
The lieutenant turned back, a crazed smile on his face. Frank was glad to see how effective healing magic was in this world, though that enthusiasm was dampened considering who it had been used on.
“Is this all?” He shook his head, and spat right on the Suit. “You could have had it all. You could have accepted the gift and support of a great House. But you thought you were special.” He turned to look at Frank, then took a couple of running steps and kicked, blowing Wilbur’s other leg from under him.
Frank had never let his mental resistance lapse. And as he approached Tasos, ready to [Quick Step] past him, he layered some more mental resistance. He just didn’t want to risk having his mind muddled.
If only [Quick Step] would work like he wanted it to.
He’ll let me attack first just so he can counter even harder. He’s not threatened by us. And Viper’s Fang’s paralytic poison isn’t doing anything.
He wondered if he could overcome Tasos’ resistance with quantity, but that was a costly endeavor. And Frank was already looking for a window to summon a mana potion.
At least the sickle could still deal some damage.
“Come on then,” challenged Tasos, arm spread. “But don’t blame me for what’s about to happen.”
Frank gripped the sickle tighter. Maybe he should pick up the spear. Or a sword. Against someone armored this wasn’t working out very well. True, his neck and arms were exposed. Face as well. But Tasos was guarding those pretty well.
We need Esther.
He stole a glance toward her and paused, frowning.
She was a whirlwind of stabs and slices, hounding the majordomo who was barely holding on to his sword. A thin rust-red hue seemed to cling to her, follow her as she [Short Blinked] forward. The majordomo thrust his sword and she dodged low, slicing his thigh open as she passed.
Red flew out. What he thought was blood turned out to be a red luminescent smoke that hung in the air for a moment before it was pulled by the red corona surrounding her.
“You’ve got time to look away, huh?”
Frank looked up in time to find Tasos barely a yard away. The noise of the general battle must have muffled his steps.
Frank prepared a [Quick Step]–and a clay ball splattered against the back of Tasos’ head.
The man’s temple throbbed. Frank rushed him.
“Hold still.”
Frank froze. He expected this. The command bounced harmlessly against his mental cocoon and he stood still and waited.
Tasos wiped the clay off the back of his hand and shot a murderous look to the reforming Suit. “You’ll pay for that, pig.”
Frank put a distressed look on his face, his eyes roaming around.
Tasos looked down at Frank’s foot and grit his teeth. “You'll all pay.” He took a step forward, winding up to kick Frank’s leg from under him–and probably shatter every one of its bones–and Frank held his breath.
Tasos leaned left as he kicked with his right foot. Frank saw the boot fly down toward his shin, and he [Quick Stepped] to the left, matching Tasos’s movement.
The speeding spell took hold, and Frank’s movement was sped up. His perception–which so far had always been affected, no matter what he tried–was insulated.
The mind resistance card countered [Quick Step]’s effect on his perception.
The world slowed around him as he moved. And for the first time, after dozens if not hundreds of steps taken through the empowerment, he could see what it did in detail.
Tasos’ leg slowed to a crawl, while Frank’s own movement seemed natural to his perception and–
–his foot hit the ground and the effect of [Quick Step] was over, along with his mental protection bubble.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Time returned, and Tasos’ leg hit nothing but air. The lieutenant’s hand immediately came up, and Frank jumped backward.
His chest was aching. He was too low on mana.
I need to get the mind shield backup asap. But just then… It worked.
There was no time to celebrate, though. Frank’s back step wasn’t enough. He saw a flash of smiling teeth before a fist embedded itself deep into his stomach.
The air rushed out of his lungs and Frank folded. He clutched at his stomach and his vision swam as he tried–and failed–to inhale. He coughed and wheezed, a thread of spit falling from his lips as he uselessly gulped for air like beached fish.
Get up.
Frank struggled to even raise his head. Spasms wrenched him back down when he tried to inhale or stand up.
Breathe.
When he was finally able to inhale and regain control of his body, a clink of metal snapped his attention back toward the outside world. Looking down, he saw handcuffs inches away from his knees. Right next to the pool of bile he must have retched after getting punched.
“Put them on while I deal with your pet.”
Tasos turned to face Wilbur’s Suit, whose still-forming leg was only a stump. Frank slowly dragged himself up. Two vials appeared in front of him and he quickly downed one of them and put the other in his pocket.
He pumped mana into [Enhanced Resistance: Mind] and readied [Quick Step]–and then he noticed it.
A new notch on [Quick Step]. A new variant. He switched to it and his heart leapt.
[Hasted Step].
Please be the same as the last step. He glanced at the notifications and saw quite a few. He must have gotten something for his lucky find. Hopefully this time it wouldn’t use up his mind protection.
He grinned. The new variant he’d been after. And Tasos had no clue.
He couldn’t afford to miss. Otherwise next time the lieutenant will be ready to defend against it.Tasos stopped and turned to him. His smile was vicious as he came back. “One wasn’t enough? Alright then.”
The lieutenant wound up for another punch, and Frank waited. The fist came quickly. And Frank took a [Hasted Step] aside, the sickle going up as he did.
The world slowed. His mental barrier was intact.
Frank’s [Enhanced Agility] allowed for the half-instant he had to aim. He lined the blade’s edge as his foot came down, and watched Tasos’ barely contained rage on display through the man’s murderous gaze as he punched forward.
Frank squared his shoulders, the sickle’s blade lined up as he wanted it. He came out of the [Hasted Step], and blood spurted out of Tasos’ neck.
----------------------------------------
Wilbur’s step faltered as he saw the blood surge out of Tasos’ neck.
Did we get him?
Frank was smiling. Then his eyes flicked back to Tasos, widening in alarm.
Frank tried to dodge, but Tasos got him in the shoulder, launching him back with an audible crunch. Frank hit the ground hard, and lay sprawled in a heap. His shoulder and arm were bent at a wrong angle.
Wilbur’s heart dropped. Tasos had used the same Empowerment that could pulverize the Suit’s limbs.
Wilbur pushed his last drops of mana at his Suit card, hoping it would regenerate faster. Frank needed help.
What should I do?
Tasos took a step toward Frank as the latter struggled to move. With his unbroken left shoulder, he reached into his right pocket, face contorted with pain.
Wilbur swallowed. The least he could do was to try and give him time. So Wilbur roared and rushed forward.
I’m weak. But at least I can give Frank a second to get up.
Tasos turned and raised a wand toward Wilbur, still holding on to the bleeding gash in his neck. A purple ray flashed out and hit Wilbur straight in the chest.
Not the Suit’s chest. His own, through the enchanted clay.
The Suit immediately stopped responding to his control. His magic vision dimmed, replaced by the world he could see with his real eyes.
The chest of the Suit was gone, and the rest of it was dissolving into motes. Wilbur tried to climb down, but his foothold dissolved as well and he fell on his face.
He looked up to see a vial materialize in front of Tasos. The man downed it, still holding on to his bleeding neck while the cold pits he had for eyes never left Wilbur. “I’ll start with you, pig.”
Wilbur stood up, his peg-leg clacking against the marble floor. If he was going to get beat up, at least he wouldn't be lying on the ground.
He raised two fists and waited, ignoring the shiver he felt when Tasos sneered at him.
Behind him, Frank reached what he had been trying to get. A green, barely visible vial glowed in his hand.
A healing potion. Thank the gods.
Wilbur exhaled with relief, but his chest still felt tight. Mana exhaustion. Fear as well. But at least Frank should be okay. Now he only needed to hold on until Frank and Esther finished their fights.
----------------------------------------
Frank’s whole body trembled from the pain in his right shoulder. He couldn’t even breathe right.
Clavicle broken. Shoulder. Arm. What else?
He couldn’t even think straight through the burning pain. He brought up the potion to his lips, whimpering as he raised his neck.
The potion smelled like pine. It tasted bitter. Tingly. Please act fast.
Not just for the incredible pain. But for Wilbur. The Suinah must have run out of mana, if he wasn’t re-summoning his Suit.
He can’t fight without the Suit.
The liquid flowed down his throat. Cold. Spicy.
Frank felt at his mana. He still had plenty from the earlier mana potion. If he could get to his feet he could buy some time. Half-seconds. Maybe they’d matter.
He grit his teeth and turned to his left. He tasted blood. He moaned in pain, breathing hard.
Come on. Hurry up.
The potion did the same thing as the last one. It reached his stomach, then it knew where it should go. It flowed up toward his right shoulder and he stumbled but didn’t fall.
It fucking burns. Where’s the sickle?
The burning of the healing potion spread and focused on his shoulders. Things began to twitch and move. Frank knew there were sounds coming out of his throat, but he couldn’t stop. His eyes landed on the sickle. A couple of yards away.
Tasos slapped Wilbur, sending him down to the ground.
Frank took a [Hasted Step]. Then another. He stole half-seconds from the world to give his shoulder enough time to be less painful. And it seemed to work. It was still unusable, but maybe the potion had some pain relieving properties.
He reached for the sickle and slowly picked it up with his left hand. [Hasted Step]. Again. Again.
It wasn’t costly. It cost more than a [Quick Step], but it followed the same pattern. The first activation was expensive, but everything step thereafter didn’t use as much.
He approached Tasos from the right. The man loomed over Wilbur, who was dragging himself back.
He’s just a kid, you colossal piece of shit. And from the corner of his eyes, Frank saw he wasn’t the only one rushing toward Tasos.
Esther was done with her fight as well, and she rushed forward like a blond and crimson comet.
----------------------------------------
Wilbur pushed himself backward. His foot throbbed with pain. And his peg-leg was broken.
“Should have stayed wherever you beasts crawled out of.”
Wilbur looked up. But he couldn’t find words through the anger.
“What’s with the look, pig? Heard something you don’t like?”
Wilbur knew that no matter what he said, the man was going to find a way to twist it and rile himself up more. He decided it was better not to respond.
Tasos spat on him, and Wilbur stopped dragging himself backward. He slowly looked up to find the man sneering down at him. “That’s what I think of your kind.”
Wilbur balled his fist and spat back on the man’s foot. And followed that up with a clay ball that flashed out of his hand. The man parried it, but his expression was still dangerously bland.
Wilbur bared his teeth in defiance. “That’s what I think of you.”
Tasos wiped at the spot on his thigh, then at the clay on his armguard. “Alright. How about I even you out before you get shipped to mines? I’m sure they’ll appreciate a legless beast that knows its place.”
His eyes were on Wilbur’s intact leg. Wilbur scrambled backward, but a foot stomped on his right arm and he cried out in pain.
“I’m going to enjoy this. We’ll see how you sq–”
The words died out in his mouth just as something wet fell on Wilbur’s overalls. The foot was lifted from his crushed hand.
Wilbur looked up, eyes teary. A thin, needle-like dagger point was coming out from between Tasos’ eyes. And the long blade of a sickle had gone through the side of his neck and out the other end.
“Sadistic fuck,” said Esther, through gritted teeth.
Frank was pale. His face twitched with pain every second or so. “Give him another one. Just to be sure he’s dead this time.”
Wilbur laid back down. Without looking up, he heard Esther say, “You look like shit, Frank. Maybe get something that helps with fights next time.”
“Bite me.”
----------------------------------------
Rustom watched the fight with the Watch guard conclude. The majordomo lay dead. The opponents of the Eijenhar were being looted. And Lumovik was most probably considering the ramifications of his actions. Rustom would have gone and personally told the newcomers about looting a freshly defeated opponent, but a portal opened up in front of his body in Mycenae.
Oh well. His business here was done. He was about to order Lumovik to leave, but why trust him when he could just teleport the man back to his residence.
He did so, then left instructions for this Agent to go and inform the Seedworlders of how to access their loot. The Eijenhar most probably knew already. Then he left and focused on his body in Mycenae.
Rustom stepped through casually, unperturbed by the mighty glare Hera was giving him. She hadn’t invited him to her home. Instead, he walked into her court, meeting her eyes up on her throne.
Her curly hair rippled. It was made of raw essence, projecting lights and colors not dissimilar to the quartz leading up here. Her eyes had similar hues, matching the deep brown of her brows and the Glyph-markings she had flared across her skin.
The animosity was palpable. And Rustom was glad to notice they were alone. That should make the conversation move along faster.
“You dare interfere with my revenge? And you show your face in my home? You have been given too much lenience, Automaton. Do not forget who dictates your orders and priorities. You’re to serve us. Not oppose us.”
“I’m to protect the Great Realm of Theos. Not serve its rulers.”
Her eye twitched.
“You conspire against us. Undermine us.”
“I’m upholding the rules the Council set.”
She stood up and shouted. Thunder roared in the sky of Mycenae. “YOU HID HER BLOOD FROM ME. SHE MURDERED MY SON.”
Rustom stared back at Hera impassively and waited for her to sit back down. He also didn’t mention that her sons and daughters numbered in the hundreds at this point. Statistically speaking, any of them dying every few years was not an anomaly.
“I hide the identity and connections of all selected Champions. As soon as they are selected, and whether they get to the Guild of Soul’s Vault or not. As per the rules set when the Trials were established. The rules you broke when you forced an assassination attempt in my Hall. Now, a Champion is dead.”
Hera sneered down at him. “A nameless nobody who stood with the blood of a heretic.”
Rustom tilted his head and almost smiled. “No. The innocent Champion you targeted out of spite survived. A companion of your Champion was the one to die for the foolish attempt.”
That gave her pause for a second. Then she smiled wider.
“You want to play games with me, machine? I promise you they’ll have the largest bounty among all Champions. They'll be targeted by the whole cohort and they’ll be disqualified from the Trial on the day it begins.”
I tire of this.
Rustom spoke in an even tone. “Every single Mycenaean Champion will have a bounty that matches their collective bounties if you commit to that promise.”
Her hair flared behind her as Hera slowly stood up. “Watch your tone, Automaton.”
“My tone is the same as it's always been.”
She glared down at him, and Rustom decided to change angles.
“Rescind the decree. Or I will have to allow exceptions to every other major faction.”
She stared down at him, and Rustom knew he had gotten a step closer to his goal.
This will take a while.
----------------------------------------
Salem stared down at his hands as he sat at the common room table.
He’d filled a small plate, but he hadn’t touched it yet. He didn’t really feel hungry. He felt like he would be just fine if he didn’t eat for a full week.
Must be whatever Chef Helene fed me.
Salem remembered what had happened. The lackey of Rivanna had stabbed him through the heart, and if it hadn’t been for Chef Helene’s intervention he would be dead.
He had to throw out his jacket. And the pants that came with. He could have washed them, but he couldn’t bear to look at them.
“I was seconds away from death.”
He’d gone to his room. Stared at the wall for some time, then took a shower. His hair was still a bit wet. But the pajamas were comfortable.
How many times am I going to need to be saved?
First his team from the mayor’s shitty contract. And two days later, saved by someone on the doorstep to divinity. Because…. Why?
The Agent had said there was a bounty on his head. But who would put a bounty on him of all people?
“I'm nobody. It makes no sense." He almost threw the plate away, but something in him abhorred the thought of wasting food.
The doors opened, and his team rushed in. They quickly found him, and Salem noted the Agent behind them.
“Salem. What happened?”
He told them.
A couple of minutes later, once he was finished, the room was quiet. Then Esther and Frank spoke at the same time.
“What’s her name–”
“Where is she–”
Salem looked up at them and chuckled. It was humorless. “Why? You’re gonna kill her?”
Frank and Esther shared a look, and Salem slowly turned to them. “Are you serious?”
Wilbur was quiet. But he didn’t seem as perturbed by the implication.
Esther looked pointedly at him. “She pointed a knife at your throat once. I’m not going to wait for her to do it again. Plus, you’re a good cook. My cook. No one messes with my people.”
Frank, looking paler than usual, stood up from the chair and then laid down on the couch. “Will you be safe with her around?”
Salem fell silent for a moment, recalling the offer the Agent had made to him on their way to this room. He had been contemplating it ever since he took his shower.
The words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’m not safe anywhere.” And before he could lose his nerve, he asked. “Can I leave with you? I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe as a cook. But at least I could do something about it if I were a fighter.”
All three stared at him for a couple of seconds before Esther burst out laughing and Frank chuckled. Even Wilbur smiled.
Salem frowned, feeling his face and ears heat up, but before he could speak, Esther forestalled him with a hand.
“I’m not laughing at you,” she wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s just that you couldn’t have picked a better timing.”
She reached down into her satchel and started pulling Decks. Four of them. Two of which were silver. “We had to give a couple to some friends, but we’ve got all of this to get through.”
Salem stood up, mouth open. The implication wasn’t lost on him. “What happened?”
Esther was getting excited to answer when Frank stole the wind from her sail. “Payback. That’s what.”
…
1x Milestone Selection awarded.
1x Card Selection awarded.
1x Card Selection awarded.
[Quick Step] - Level 4 achieved.
[[Hasted Step]] variant unlocked.
[Disguise Self] - Level 2 achieved.