Grazia wasn't running for three reasons: first, she didn't have the strenght to do that, not for extended periods of time; second, because it was stupid: running made noise, and the gods knew she had no desire nor need to make a ruckus right now; third, she was in the middle of the City of Temples. If you started running for no reason here you were literally asking for a patrol to stop you for questioning.
The young woman wore the simplest, most non-descript, dress she could find in the House, which happened to be a thrown away donation from a [Farmer] woman. Had she still been part of the College (which, technically, she still was), Grazia would've blessed the woman to tomorrow for her kindness. She would've also blessed the man or woman who had taken the donation and thrown it into an unused room of the House, but then again, why should she? She was trying to escape from them.
She saw an approaching group of [Guards] and immediately put on a cheerful expression: "Good evening!" she said, waving with her free hand, the other holding a small rucksack that had seen better days.
The men and women, she couldn't tell with all that armor and the helmets, turned towards her for a moment and acknowledged her with slight bows of their heads, never stopping in their patrol. Grazia also attempted to hum a little tune to sell the impression better, but stopped a few seconds later. Her hearth was beating too fast and it was all she could do to keep breathing normally as her lungs screamed in hunger for more air. In the years to follow she would come to know that sensation. How, even in moments of complete calm, she started to feel faint, her lungs loudly demanding that she breath in more air, but it was never enough, never enough, until it stopped and she could keep going with her day like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just felt like she was drowning in the middle of an open room.
For a chance to escape, though, this was a price she was willing to pay, even if she didn't know it yet.
She turned a corner, her steps hastening slightly as she rememebered what had caused her to decide to escape, her mind going back, unbidden and against her desires, to what she'd witnessed the other [Harvesters] do to obtain Memories and Traditions: a process that, most of the time was fatal to the original holder. Oh, sure, her own method for harvesting would probably be a lot kinder and much more painless, but she didn't care. She'd seen the result, and that was what had scared her into leaving.
"Now now, what do we have here? A little girl running away? No, of course not! She couldn't possibly be leaving the College. Because that would be a problem. And you do know how the College treats problems, am I right girl?"
The voice froze her in her tracks, her smile becoming waxy on her face, the fear that had been clawing at her stomach all tihs time finally ripping free and bounding up, towards her heart and mind. Panic began to set in but, before she could even think of running, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her bodily up, away from the ground.
"Look, girl, let's put it this way: you're not going to escape. So, if you just come back with me willingly, I'll make sure the right people close their eyes. I'll tell them some bullshit about how you went out for a drink to celebrate. I'll even buy you a bottle, alright?" asked the voice over her shoulder. It was warm and calm, even kind. She'd expected it would feel slimy, evil, but there was nothing like that there. Still, she could feel the snake of promises of pain and consequences make its way into her brain, sinking its fangs in her mind and poisoning her thoughts, eating away at her strenght and making her struggles slowly stop.
In the end, she drooped listlessly to the ground, the fight now out of her. She nodded, barely holding back tears of sorrow. She had been so close.
The man hmmed in approval and, gently, put her back on the ground, his arms still close to her hips to make sure she didn't fall, or try again to run. She did neither of those. Running would've been useless anyway: he was much faster than her.
They began walking back towards the surprisingly small building that was the College of Memoirs. Well, it was small only on the outside. The inside on the other hand...
The man, whose name was Cariano Abascus, came directly from the shores of Rodar. He was driven by blind faith in the gods and their teachings, most of his decisions guided by the words written in their sacred books. He was also, apparently, high Level, some said well over Level 50 and close to 60, but nobody knew his Class.
He was also a kind man who abhorred senseless cruelty, even though sometimes, like now, he used fear to subdue his targets. Not that there had been much to subdue in Grazia to begin with.
"Look, girl," he started, slowly, as he kept walking arm in arm with her, waving at the same patrol of [Guards] she had just passed not even a minute ago, "I understand why you did this. You saw the ways of the [Harvesters] who came before you, and decided to you didn't like it, that you didn't want to become like them. It's... understandable. But it is necessary."
He looked down at her now, his feet leading them towards the College without him needing to look. He knew the roads of this city by heart after decades spent here.
"What the College does, it is necessary. If it wasn't for us holding at bay and controlling the Memories and Traditions of this world, everything would be in chaos. Just imagine what would've happened if we didn't keep the Hunters' Law. Without it, the arachne could've risen to power again, starting the Hunt anew.
"Or even, think about the damned Memory that made armies invincible. If it wasn't for the College it would still be around, turning [Kings] into madmen thirsty for battle and conquest, creating armies of immortals. We are necessary, girl. And without people like you the world would be a much darker place."
Grazia looked up at him and saw, in his eyes, that he believed all that he had said. The scariest thing of all was that, if she only stopped to listen to him for a moment, she would probably believe him. The words felt right, and it wasn't because of a Skill. She could've told if it was, because that was what her Class was intrinsically good at: listening and understanding.
"Look, I won't press you. You're young, you couldn't possibly understand all of this, not without having first lived through it. Still, please, try to understand. This is for the good of all that you hold dear."
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Grazia sat at a small table in the back of the 'Boneless Dancer' bar.
She had always found the name extremely silly and funny, especially considering that, apparently, the [Barista] and proprietress of the establishment was rather incapable of dancing. Not to say that she disliked it, far from it: if she wasn't working one could probably find her somewhere practicing (alone) steps for various dances, and botching every single one of them. It was as if she really did not have bones.
Anyways, currently she was sitting at a small table, mixing various herbs together and testing their tastes, all for tonight's event: the Empty Hearted's Rest'. Creanza was a great [Barista], but she was even better at organizing events. In particular there was one event that had made her so known all around the city and, she thought, even the kingdom in general, and this was it. A night, once a month, when [Soldiers] and [Veterans] and many others like them could come here and... forget, or relax, or just feel nostalgic.
And it was all made possible by her Class and her Skills.
For she was a [Teamaker of Memory's Healing].
And right then the man who'd allowed her to become this walked inside the room.
"Hello Grazia. It's been a while," he said with a small smile.
She looked up from her table and, after a moment of looking each other in the eyes, got up and hugged him.
"Hello, Albert. You're right, it's been a while. When was the last time we saw each other?"
The old man thought for a moment.
"Three years ago I think. You really should get out more often."
She snickered and shook her head: "I know, I know, but... I have all I need here. Creanza feeds me and finances me, buying me exotic ingredients for my creations, and I have my little garden out in the back. I have friends and company and a purpose. I... I don't really feel like going out a lot."
You may be thinking that Grazia was agoraphobic, but that wouldn't be true. The woman really just felt no need to leave the establishment she called home.
Oh, sure, when she'd first arrived in this city she hadn't put her nose out because she feared the College would find her but now, over a decade later, she was certain that they'd either given up on her or, more probably, thought she was dead.
"So, how have you been doing lately with your breathing problems?"
She shrugged: "I've been having less and less episodes, luckily. But, whenever they do happen, they're still as severe. I'll never be rid of this, I'm afraid."
Albert nodded and silence fell on them like a warm blanket. They'd spent a long time together after he'd helped her and they'd come to appreciate these moments. Creanza liked to joke that they communicated telephatically whenever they did that. Sometimes, it felt that joke was more than just a joke.
"Creanza told me you're here to finally call in our favor, Albert. Tell me, what is your request?"
The old man nodded: "I want you to make one of your special Teas for a young girl who's been through... well, let's just say it was Airm. You'll probably see what it was thanks to your Skills. My request, the thing I'm [Calling the Favor In] for, is your silence. Whatever you will see in her memories, you will not tell a living or dead soul and being, in any form spoken or written or otherwise. Because, if you do, she'll be in grave danger. A life for a life. Is that alright?"
Grazia raised an eyebrow in curiosity: "Alright, I can do that. Don't worry."
She really didn't have much of a choice, but, even if she had, she would've done it still. Because he had saved her life.
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On the way to the College Cariano stopped at a shop and bought her a bottle of... rather expensive alcohol, like he had promised. She'd expected him to keep his word, but she'd also expected he would only buy her a bottle of some cheap wine and be done with it. Instead, he'd gone full out on... whatever a 'Flato's Punch' was.
"Be careful when you drink that. It's strong enough to make me feel dizzy after two or three glasses."
She nodded, already planning on drinking the whole bottle in one sitting and hoping she would die of alcohol poisoning. It was probably a painless way to go.
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They went back to walking. In two streets, they'd find themselves back on the First Step of Larnos, the main street of the city. She'd always found the name rather excessive, but then again, it was more decorated than most [King]'s palaces were.
"We're nearly there girl. I hope there won't be an - grlrlglcough!"
His sentence was interrupted by a knife suddenly sprouting from his throat going straight through the back of his neck. At the other end of the knife, no, the dagger, holding the handle, was a middle aged man with graying hair and warm brown eyes that, at the moment, looked dead inside.
"Haaaa, and down he goes."
He then turned to look towards Grazia who, credit where it was due, wasn't shivering in fear or had fallen to the ground. She just stood there, the bottle Cariano had bought for her in one hand, her worn rucksack in the other. Her eyes were just as empty as the man's, her mind drawing a blank. She knew she should feel either happy for Cariano's death, for a renewed chance at escaping, and/or afraid of the man in front of her who'd just murdered in a single hit one of the greatest assets of the College without him even having a chance at fighting.
"And who are you, young miss? Were you perhaps being taken by force to the College by this little sheep?" he asked, giving a small kick to Cariano's still warm and bleeding corpse, while offering to her a small smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. Sadly, it didn't even come close to his eyes, so it only managed to make her start to feel nervous, her emotions slowly beginning to wake back up from the slumber she'd forced them in.
"Let me try to rephrase that: would you like me to help you escape? I've been tailing this one long enough to hear all he said to you after he got you. In a way, I have to thank you: it was thanks to you trying to escape that I managed to do this the easy way. Helping you leave is the least I can do."
She looked at him dumbfounded. This was impossible. This was some sick trick being played by her mind, or maybe the effect of a Skill. She had heard that the College had some people who were adept at doing things like this. Was this that situation? Was she being tested? Was...
He pinched her arm and she was startled. Her eyes focused back on the world in front of her and locked onto... her reflection in a handheld mirror.
"I once met a [Dreamer], you know? Good man, had a passion for foxes. He told me that, if ever I was to deal with the College, I should go looking for mirrors. Said that minds aren't supposed to see themselves in mirrors, causes bad things to happen. Now, what is the mirror showing you?"
What a silly question: it was showing her reflection, as all mirrors were meant to do. Her face was staring right back at her, tired sky blue eyes, small old wrinkles around her mouth from a time before the College had found her, putting an end to her easy smiles, small nose with a slightly crooked septum from when she'd fallen down some stairs as a child.
"I see myself."
"Good, then that means this is real," he said it so matter-of-factly that she actually believed him, even though it made no sense.
"Will you really get me out of here? The College will hunt me down."
The man shrugged, looking at himself in the mirror and examining his reflection with careful eyes before he put the little thing away.
"Here's a free lesson for you by an old man, young lady: the College isn't as all-powerful as it wants you to believe. Once we'll leave the City of Temples we'll be safer. Afterwards it's just a matter of going to another continent that isn't Rodar. Say, I'll have to go to Irevia after this: do you like mild climates?"
Again, she thought this was impossible, that this was a dream. But then, a single thought crossed her mind: Fuck it!
If this was fake, then she was going to savor every single moment of this dream.
"Anywhere is better than what they want me to do here."
"That's the spirit."
He began walking, Grazia soon following behind him.
And something shuffled on the ground behind them.
Grazia froze again, not daring to look back.
The man, though, just sighed: "Why are high Level people so hard to kill?" he said, turning around with a weary expression.
The corpse of Cariano was slowly beginning to rise from the ground, a hand going for the dagger still embedded in his neck and spine, slowly pulling it out. There was a soft SHLORP sound as the blade came out and she could swear, for a moment, that she could see the wall behind him through the small hole, before it closed down.
Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke: "Well, I'll be damned to Airm and back. I didn't even feel you coming. What kind of monster are you?"
The man shrugged listlessly: "The tired kind."
Cariano nodded: "You know, it's a shame. Had you not forced me to waste my [Blessing of Second Chance] I would've just let you go."
The man shook his head: "You had a Blessing that powerful on you? Did you find it in a Skill scroll?"
"Indeed I did. I found it during my adventuring days back in Rodar. It was probably older than the arachne."
"Then I'm sorry it was wasted, because you sadly have to die. Try to understand, I have no choice. I want to rest, and They won't allow it unless I manage to kill you. I've come too far to give up."
Cariano drew his sword out, his feet in position: "Well, I'll make sure to make this as painless as possible then. That's the best I can do."
He stepped forwars... and used a Skill, coming face to face with the man, one hand going towards Grazia and shoving her out of the way, probably fearing his adversary would try to use her as a shield.
Instead, a knife moved lightning fast towards his face, looking to skewer his eye and brains.
He sidestepped the attack and tried to skewer the man's heart with his sword, but the man just dodged.
They looked each other in the eyes, a few feet of empty air between them, their bodies as relaxed as could be, their minds sharper than the blades they held.
"May I ask who I'm fighting against?" asked Cariano with a hint of respect in his tone.
The man nodded as he calmly answered: "My name is Albert Sirion, Cariano Abascus."
"Are you an [Assassin]?"
Albert scoffed: "Nothing so small, although my employers want me to be one this time around. I'm a [Spymaster]."
"Not a good Class for a fight. You still have a chance to run, you know? I'll probably catch you, but who knows, maybe you've got a Skill to help you out, or a Scroll of Greater Teleportation."
Albert shook his head: "Nothing like that. My employers didn't expect me to come back from this, so they gave me only the strictly necessary things."
"And who are your employers, if I may ask?"
"Why, the Game, obviously."
Cariano sighed as he heard those words, connecting the dots: no one left the Game. That... wasn't exactly a rule, but it was the closest thing to one the Game had. Once you were in, leaving was close to impossible. Unless you were willing to undergo the so called Pilgrimage of Eights. What that consisted in, he didn't know, since he wasn't a Player, but he could probably guess that it involved doing some very difficult tasks. Maybe as a way to demonstrate one's strenght and allegiance? Who knew.
At that moment, Albert decided that the time for games was over and ran towards him, his eyes never leaving Cariano's while also keeping his sword always in sight, because he wasn't a rookie.
It doesn't matter, thought Cariano as he moved to intercept him, you're just a [Spymaster]. People like you are good at stealth and logistics. You had your chance and you lost it.
And then it struck him. He was a [Spymaster]. And he'd thought the right thing: he was good at making the right people do the right things at the right time.
He saw, in the corner of his eye, the fingers of Albert's free hand move in some kind of pattern and he turned around just in time to intercept a... nothing. There was nobody behind him.
The dagger sprouted from his neck again.
"You seriously thought I would say my name out loud in the presence of someone who wasn't about to die?"
Overthinking.
Overthinking had just gotten him killed. The thing that had kept him alive all his life, especially in Rodar, when he'd raided the greatest dungeon of the continent, had just caused his death. He chuckled, or tried to, but nothing but a thin line of blood left his lips while his diaphragm contracted, spewing more and more of it out.
"Please, die this time," said Albert.
Cariano wanted to laugh then, because of course he wouldn't. He reached down towards a healing potion by his side... and felt his mind begin to grow fuzzy.
Poison, he thought, and realized then that it was probably over.
He sighed internally and, hadn't his neck been impaled, he would've shaken his head in disappointment. Of all the ways to go. He had always thought he would've died on the battlefield, maybe fighting against the arachne if a Nest was discovered. Oh, well.
He raised his sword and planted it into the man's side, a little something to remember him by.
And then he closed his eyes and died, the stairway towards Larnos appearing in the darkness, the light at the very top calling to him.
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"What about that old scar? Is it still troubling you?" asked Grazia, turning back to her table and opening a drawer, looking inside for a special mix that she knew could help with the pain.
Albert grimaced: "Don't worry, the pain is... tolerable. It's just an extra reminder that I shouldn't try to become an [Acrobat] in my old age."
Grazia chuckled, turning around to hand him a fist-sized leather pouch which contained a Skill enhanced mix of painkilling tea herbs. Albert pocketed it immediately, a thankful smile on his face.
"You know, I heard around that there's a new high Level [Doctor] working for the King of Crows in the east, over Level 30. Maybe he could solve your problem."
Albert shook his head: "Maybe if I hadn't met the girl, but now? No, I won't embark on another journey. A hopeless one too, probably. I've lived with the pain all these years, I can still go a few more decades," he smiled, trying to reassure her, and managing to get a sigh out of her.
"And anyways, I'm already living [On Borrowed Time]," he added.
He always said that like it was supposed to mean something, but she'd never understood why.
Oh, well, Albert was Albert. He'd lived longer than her doing a job where people died young, and was here to tell the tale. He knew what he was doing.
"Then I'll see you this evening with your little guest. Goodbye Albert."
"Bye bye Grazia. See you soon. And thank you."
"Always!"
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"You... you killed him?" it was supposed to be a statement, but it came out more as a question because of how impossible it felt.
Albert groaned, looking down at the sword jutting out of his side as he fell to the ground, trying to stop up the wound.
"A little help would be appreciated," he hissed through the pain, reaching for one of the potions on Cariano's side. There was no reason not to use them. It wasn't like he was going to need them anyway.
She yelped and ran towards him, taking the sword's hilt in her hand and, at his small nod, pulling it out.
Albert hissed in pain, biting his lip until blood was flowing out, forcing down the scream that adreanline had kept at bay when the weapon had gone in. Then, with precise movements, he unstoppered the vial of Healing Potion and poured a generous dose over the wound, drinking down what remained.
He sighed in relief after a few moments, the wound closing back incredibly fast, flesh and skin and muscle reknitting together.
Then he whimpered and, again, bit into his lip, trying to contain another scream of pain as he fell to the ground and began rolling, clutching at his flank as if something was trying to burrow in. Or out.
"Show me the sword!" he nearly shouted, managing only at the last second to keep his voice down.
Grazia did, and he looked at the worn blade, where a piece of sharp steel was missing right where the point should've been.
"Fuck!" he grunted, clutching again at his flank. A piece of the weapon was still inside him, cutting his insides up, opening new wounds every time the potion closed one, causing him to suffer again and again. He prayed that the potion would run out soon making this misery end.
They stayed there, in that alley, for an entire minute as he tried to suppress the pain and keep his groaning to a minimum, while Grazia kneeled by his side and panicked inside, not knowing what to do.
Finally, the potion's effect ended, and Albert felt one last pang of pain as he moved and the shard of steel cut him up as he stood from the ground.
Huffing and puffing for air, he stayed in that position, his face pale, his eyes wide open, the pupils reduced to a pinprick of black in a sea of warm brown.
"Are you alright?" Grazia asked, realizing just how stupid the question was a moment too late.
"No, but I will be," he answered, trying to give the woman a smile, instead grimacing.
He would just have to find a very low grade healing potion that would allow the formation of scar tissue wherever the piece of metal was. Of course he could try to get it removed, but he didn't trust anyone to use a knife to open him up and search his insides for a small bit of metal.
"Let's go. There's someone who owes me a favor who can get us out of the city. And afterwards, to Irevia. Does that suit you?"
Grazia nodded very enthusiastically, which made Albert chuckle, which was a very stupid thing to do because it moved the metal around, making him wince.
He began limping away, leaving behind the body of one of the strongest servants of the College, stopping only for a moment to look at the corpse, putting his fingers on his forehead, lips and heart as a final salute.
And then they were gone.
In the days that followed, as they went by coach towards the nearest port city, Grazia asked Albert why he had decided to help her. His answer had been very simple: "I've watched many people die. Many at my hands. Even more at the hands of people I had instructed. An even greater number as an effect of those deaths. For once, I wanted to balance things out. A life for a life."
She knew there was more to it, naturally, but, for now, it was enough.
In the years to come, she would receive a more complete answer.