Back in Silaraon, I take stock of what we’ll need if we want to challenge the Rift. I’m not very confident in my sword skills yet, or else I’d take the glass swords my father left behind. A sturdy walking stick is far less glamorous, but more practical. Likewise, my glass armor isn’t ready for the real world. Melina cautions me that it will take more iterating and controlled, in-studio testing before we’re ready to trust my life to it in the field.
I’m too nervous about the Rift to talk with Ember about it. Instinctively, I know she’ll try to talk me out of entering a Rift—particularly a Greater variety. She wants to keep me safe, both because I am her last tie to my parents, who were close friends of hers, and also because I’m a skilled laborer in her studio.
Staying away is prudent.
Yet I can’t resist the call.
Over the weekend, I continue to collect what I’ll need. My checklist is sparse, since Tem is preparing food and water. I get a basic leather jerkin for better durability; I don’t want to shred my shirt if I have to climb rocks or crawl in the dirt. Sharpening my knife doesn’t take long, but I savor the task, imagining that with each pass of the blade over the whetstone I’m slaughtering monsters in the Rift. Mikko could sharpen the knife for me much faster, but I don’t want to tell him about my trip, either. He’ll just try to talk me out of it.
He’d probably succeed, too, which is why I’m not about to give him the chance. For once I’m committed to a mischievous plan that doesn’t include Mikko or Lionel, my two most-frequent partners in crime. It feels strangely lonely, but also invigorating.
Gathering my supplies and getting a staff is quick work and doesn’t seem to raise any suspicions. Informing Ember that I’ll be training further with Tem results in a raised brow and a glower. I promise that I’ll do my best to make up the work later, so she agrees to let me go. I’ll bet she suspects that something’s amiss, but my guess is that she’s confident in Tem’s ability to keep me alive.
Speaking of Tem, he does all the hard work preparing for what’s to come. Weapons and armor and gear are his responsibility, along with procuring vittles and coming up with a plan for our time in the Rift. He seems to have things well in hand.
Of course, nothing ever goes perfectly according to plan.
A pair of burly [Soldiers] with armor polished to parade-march perfection knock on my door early in the morning on the day Tem and I are supposed to leave town. One look at their shiny badges and grim faces, and I know not to argue. While the Royal Army always has some presence in the city barracks, we rarely interact with their soldiers directly. They usually stick to their forts. That means something important is underway, and I’m not about to get on their bad side until I figure out what’s going on.
They give me two minutes to get dressed and ready. I’d already packed the night before, so I stuff my feet into my boots, shrug on my leather jerkin over my shirt, and sling the pack over my shoulders. Walking stick in hand, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, so I set off down my dirt path.
The [Soldiers] escort me from my cabin, glaring at me with more derision than I think is necessary. We march in formation on the way into town: one in front of me to lead the way, and one trailing behind me to dissuade me from getting any thoughts about running. What do they think I am, a common criminal?
I trudge along in uncomfortable silence, through the sparse trees and open fields on the outskirts of Silaraon, glad that no one I know is around to see me. We finally pass through the more densely-clustered homes at the edge of the city, entering the main gate and heading to the right, toward the barracks for the city watch.
Tem is out front of the building, flanked by his own pair of [Soldiers]. Unlike my escorts, however, his pair of guards look absolutely terrified. They are under no delusions that they’re preventing him from doing anything. Even if people don’t buy into all of Tem’s legends, everyone knows who he is and how dangerous he can be if you get on his bad side.
Tem flashes a brilliant smile when he sees me. “Ready to go, Nuri? We’ll get this sorted out shortly.”
“I’m packed, at least. Not sure about ready,” I reply cautiously. I don’t know how much to give away with people listening in, and I’d rather not misspeak in front of Tem.
“Close enough,” the [Scout] says, waving away my worry. “Now that you’re finally here, let’s go talk with the upstart who’s blocking our entry into the Rift.”
Ah. Not a secret, then.
“[Lieutenant] Cassius is busy,” a new [Soldier] interrupts. He emerged from the door to the three-story barracks, a square, imposing building of dark stone. He plants himself in front of the doorway. “We’ll summon you when he’s ready to speak with you.”
“Wait, Cassius? That’s Zvaid’s father, if I remember,” I mutter to myself. My stomach turns as I draw the connection between the two. If the [Lieutenant] is anything like his son, then we’re in for a headache. That’s a complication that I never saw coming. But based on the vitriol Zviad spewed in class when Tem discussed Rifts, maybe I should have known that his father wouldn’t be happy about having a Greater Rift pop up in his backyard.
Tem makes a face like he bit into a lemon. “That rude boy from class? His father is the one wasting our time?”
I nod, wishing I could step away from the discussion. I don’t want the [Soldiers] to take out their frustrations on me. Tem might be untouchable, but I’m certainly not.
Tem grabs my upper arm, gripping tight just below the shoulder. Before I can blink, he steps through the strange, monochrome world I first experienced when he saved me from the wraiths. We emerge back into reality in a sparse entry chamber inside the barracks, on the other side of the locked doors. There’s no sign of the [Soldiers] who tried to prevent us from seeing [Lieutenant] Cassius.
“That was awesome!” I breathe.
Tem chuckles at my enthusiasm. “You handled it better than last time. Less resistance to passing through the mesh of the world, less nausea on the other side. Good. Let’s put this little ant back in his place and get out of here.”
Leading us on with an unerring sense of direction, Tem strides through the barracks like he owns the place. We pass through a plain hallway of undressed stone and turn left, down a murky passage that’s missing mage lanterns. Up a dingy flight of stairs, an imposing, ornately carved wooden door bars our path.
The carved door is the first bit of decoration we’ve seen in the barracks, which makes it easy to conclude that it’s where Cassius holds court. Well, that, and Tem is marching up to the door like he’s about to put a child in his place.
Telltale signs of enchantments glimmer in my [Lesser Manasight] as we approach the office. Likely, the door is warded against intruders, which makes sense for the boss, although I can’t imagine that someone barging in on the [Lieutenant] is a common occurrence.
Wards don’t stop Tem in the slightest. He holds out his right hand at chest level, with his fingers splayed apart. A cold, hard light gathers in his palm like liquid starlight, blazing for a brief moment before dispersing with a barely-audible pop. Instantly, the wards fizzle out in my vision, disappearing into nothingness at Tem’s casual display of power.
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He kicks the lock, which dissolves into dust as though centuries have passed by in the space of a single heartbeat. Letting out a tortured screech, the double hinges creak, strain, and fall apart. The entire door flies open, crashing to the ground now that it’s no longer held up by its mounting hardware on either side, revealing a handsome, middle-aged man with the same arrogant eyes I’ve come to know so well from Zviad.
Cassius is immediately recognizable as a member of the Densmore elite. His fine, slim nose, high forehead, and sharply-angled jaw are so perfectly symmetrical that they appear cut and polished from a single jewel by a Master [Lapidary]. To his credit, he doesn’t appear fazed in the least by our sudden appearance, only frowning as he regards the fractured door lying on the office floor.
Cassius leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his desk, and sets his chin on his clasped fists. He sneers up at Tem. “Had you waited five more minutes before bashing down my door, I would have had a Writ prepared to authorize your entry into the Greater Rift. But a wild dog can’t help but bite, can he?”
“I need neither Writ nor authorization,” Tem snaps back. “Stop acting like it’s my fault that we’re delayed. You called us here only to make a show of power. You have no authority over a Royal agent.”
“Former Royal agent,” Cassius corrects, his tone frosty.
Tem surprises me by chuckling. He grabs one of the plain wooden chairs and spins it around. He sits down, lounging in the seat like he owns the place. “Well informed, I’ll give you that. We both know that you had no intention of offering any approval, however. You’re just trying to regain a semblance of normality, hoping you could try to hold on to the tattered shreds of your dignity despite your exile to the borderlands. This is all a farce.”
“Easy to see why you were cut loose,” Cassius replies. Impossibly, his sneer appears to deepen; I already thought it was as disdainful as possible, but I was wrong.
Tem shrugs one shoulder. “Posturing is a young man’s game. Let’s get down to business and dispense with the pleasantries.”
“Hardly pleasant,” Cassius mutters.
“What do you want, boy? Name your cut from the Rift,” Tem says, completely ignoring the [Lieutenant].
Cassius laces his fingers together. He glares at Tem over the top of his hands. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ll scout out the Rift and report back. That’s your job. We’ll send a crew and harvest any points of interest. That’s our job.”
“Preposterous!” Tem says, laughing easily. “Even non-affiliated delvers receive a finder’s fee. You’re out of your mind if you think we’ll agree to that.”
Cassius shrugs. “Final offer. Otherwise, entry will be considered an act of insubordination. Think carefully what that will mean if you force the issue. You’re already on thin ice.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll risk it,” Tem replies. He stretches, yawns, and stands up. “Come on, lad. We’ve got a long way to go today. Good thing you brought your big pack, since we won’t share anything we recover.”
“Certain that’s how you want to play this?” Cassius asks mildly.
Tem tilts his head to the side, as if considering. He smiles thinly. “Yep. Have a great stay in Silaraon. I’m sure your illustrious career will take off thanks to your efforts here.”
With that parting verbal jab, Tem strides back out into the hall with a whistle on his lips. He doesn’t look back, seeming to trust that I’ll follow him. I glance back and forth between him and Cassius, swallow hard, and give the [Lieutenant] an apologetic smile.
“I’ll report back when we return. Tell Zviad I’ll make him more glass orbs if he maxes out his current training program. Sorry about Tem. He gets worked up sometimes,” I say.
It pains me to offer to make something for such a pompous jerk, but I don’t want to get on the bad side of the Royal Army. I’m not in a position to shrug off threats like Tem is, and I’m not about to sabotage my career if I can help it.
Cassius leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and regarding me for a long moment. “You know, I looked into you. Fought off monsters last year as a crafter who still hadn’t hit the First Threshold. Admirable. The orbs are fairly clever, too. Trained with my son and didn’t quit when you couldn’t keep up. Those kinds of traits show promise. Ambition. Why waste your time with a bitter old man who’s betrayed his country?”
My eyebrows creep up my forehead as he speaks. I don’t know what to say that won’t get me in trouble, so I maintain a neutral expression and wait for him to continue, though I don’t appreciate the way he’s casting aspersions.
“Stay in town,” Cassius rumbles. “I’ll sponsor your apprenticeship with the Army if you want to re-Class. You won’t get a better offer. Delving a Rift at your advancement is suicide.”
Re-Class? He wants me to become a [Soldier]? For a brief moment, I’m flattered. Then I grimace as I realize what that entails. He wants to tie me to himself now, while I don’t have any reputation or leverage, as a means to simultaneously control me and ensure that Tem loses an asset. Regardless of how insignificant I am right now, I’d like to think I have potential to grow if I’m not capped.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll think it over,” I say, trying not to seem ungrateful for the [Lieutenant]’s gesture of goodwill. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder at Tem’s departing back. If I don’t hurry up, then he’ll leave me behind, and I’m not going to miss my chance to delve, permission or not.
“Don’t bother. I see what’s going on. Playing both sides means you lack conviction, boy,” Cassius says in rebuke at my half-hearted decision.
Caught by surprise by how disappointed he sounds, words dry up on my tongue. I don’t reply, and instead I scurry out of the office, chasing Tem before I lose sight of him completely. I tried playing catch with him in the forest before. I’m not keen on repeating that game, not when a Rift is on the line. Zviad’s dad can deal with my rudeness.
“Easy,” Tem announces once I rejoin him.
“Unnecessary,” I reply.
He gives me an arch look and then snorts. “Didn’t take you for a bootlicker. Show some self-respect.”
“You’ll be fine. ‘When giants clash, ants are crushed underfoot,’” I quote.
“Ha! Where’d you hear that?”
“Ember told me that once.”
Tem chuckles. “Old Army saying. Surprised she remembers, though. It’s definitely fallen out of favor with the younger crowd. Stick with me and you’ll be fine.”
Dismissing my worries, he guides us toward a back door, letting us outside so we don’t encounter the [Soldiers] that brought us to the front. As soon as we’re outside the barracks, he picks up the pace, and I find myself running to keep up again.
“Nothing like kicking the hornet’s nest and fleeing,” Tem says, his voice dripping with satisfaction at the chaos in our wake. He picks up his already brisk pace, guiding us toward the forest.
I jog next to Tem. “Not as bad as I feared, I have to admit. [Lieutenant] Cassius seems more restrained than his son.”
“Gonna take his offer?”
I scratch my chin, taking time to arrange my thoughts. “Didn’t know you heard that. But it seems obvious in retrospect. You are an [Expert Scout].”
“So? What’s it gonna be?”
“I’m going with you. That should be pretty clear,” I say. “More interesting than going to basic training.”
“Good lad.” He speeds up again, and I’m forced to tuck my staff through the loops in my pack and run so he doesn’t leave me behind.
“Hey, Tem?” I say in between breaths, once we’re past the Silaraon city walls and into the woods proper. “Is it true that the Army can change my Class? I’ve definitely heard of earning the [Soldier] Class if you don’t have one already, but outright changing it on demand? That sounds beyond the boundaries of what mortals can achieve.”
“They can, but I suspect it’s not as easy as Cassius made it sound. Might be a question for Ezio. He’s better versed in the ins and outs of the arcane sciences. I will say that usually they make recruits join them in the capital for a Class-change ceremony, so it probably has to do with the old monster himself.”
“Who’s that?”
Tem’s face grows stormy. “[Viceroy] Tapirs. Highest-ranking [Mage] in the nation. He’s a real piece of work, and the reason why so many people are suspicious of Rifts now.”
I snap my fingers, trying to recall something I read in the book Ezio gave me while I was waiting at the library for Marko to find the textbook for the Foundations class. “He’s the current advisor to the [King], isn’t he? Utility faction?”
“I see why Ezio likes you,” Tem says, nodding. “Good mind for detail. Now’s not the time for politics, though. I’ll tell you more about him when we return from delving the Rift. Think of it as an added incentive to survive.”
I laugh as we run through the sun-kissed woods. “And here I thought living was its own reward!”