Esmond Sergeant had been brought to his knees by one word. For the second time in a single day a being had appeared before him and brought him low. The first had been an agent of the divine come to tell everyone of their condemnation to this fresh purgatory. But the second was just a man. A soft spoken soy-boy of a man. But he came with an armed escort and a caravan of freaks and weirdos.
Esmond knew this had been his chance. His chance to claim his true place at the high table of life. A new world. A new him. And for a while it had worked. He had found the crown, there had been two and he took the fanciest. All he had to do was act the part and everyone, desperate for guidance, had followed him without question. Then that man had arrived and ruined it. With a glance and a word.
He should have struck sooner, Esmond knew. Killed him the moment he had arrived. And that Leslie slut too. But, when he went to strike, that damn pop-up had appeared.
{Do you want to revoke alliance with your guild master and liege lord [[Ashen] Tares] [Master [Assassin]] [Merle Sagado]? Y/N}
That moment of hesitation to say “yes”, that second of doubt at the word assassin, had been enough to bring him down. Esmond knew that his own class was also assassin, [Seneschal [Assassin]] to be pedantic, but he hadn’t expected it to be so hard for him to use those assassin abilities. If only he’d taken the time to practice. That slut Laura would have been perfect.
He sat on the floor of the shadowy cell he’d been dumped in by those two idiots who, until a few hours ago, had been loyal to him. Now he regarded them through the bars of the cell, as they sat out in the guardroom beyond, chatting at one another about stuff. Sharing a skin of wine between them. Then one of them, showing off, lit his knife on fire, it igniting like a torch as orange flames ran up along the blade for a few minutes. Probably ruining it in the process. But it was bona-fide magic.
“How did you do that?” the other asked.
“You just have to reach into yourself, and then you'll be asked if you want to activate your magic. Mine is called Born of Fire.” Then you just have to mentally visualise what you want to do.
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“Mine is Born of the Storm.”
“What does that one do?”
“Let’s find out.” The speaker rested his elbow on his knee and spread the fingers of his hand. Sparks danced along his fingers, down his arm, through his knee, and into the floor where they faded. The guy swore. “Jings! That hurt!”
“Of course it did, you weapon! You just electrified your hand!”
Esmond watched the two guys like they were doing a skit and sighed. He wondered what he could do, but self reflection was something alien to him. So it took some effort for him to reach within himself. But by closing his eyes and really focusing he felt something happening. Just as he was about to give up he received the message he’d been wanting.
{Utilise [Born of Darkness] abilities? Y/N}
Darkness. Great! Who knows what badass powers that would give him.
Yes.
He descended into darkness. Opening his eyes to find himself in a labyrinth of shadowy glass-like walls. He stood and slipped along the wall to his cell towards the bars. He was in a world of shadows. As a shadow he should easily slip through the bars of the cell, out and to freedom. But as he neared he saw to his horror that the torchlight coming in from the room beyond had created bars of light in this shadowy realm. Rendering the whole area as inaccessible in shadow as it was in light, if not more so. He was still trapped.
The only other escape might be down the narrow hole in one corner which he guessed was supposed to be the toilet. Bollocks to that. He wasn’t taking to whatever passed for the sewers in this place even though it would be shadowy all the way down.
But then he remembered listening to an audiobook he didn’t like, wherein some Australian chad could teleport between shadows. Maybe he could reach another shadow himself. Like the one behind the open door out of the guard room. Again he closed his eyes and focused within himself. After a few minutes of solid effort he felt a shift around him. Opening his eyes once more he found himself not behind the door out but surrounded by shelves of black glass where items too many to count sat. There were weapons, clothing, survival gear, and several sets of keys. One identical to the ones used by the idiots who had locked him in here. He hid them on his person and then, after more mental struggling and effort, raised himself back into the material world.
The two guys guarding him were gone. Unlocking the cell took a matter of moments, and Esmond was free once more. Slipping back into the Cronephere, although it would be a good while until he learnt of that name, he made his way out of the castle dungeon. The sun was low and gloom was gathering, which suited him just fine. Long shadows made for an easy egress.
Moving unseen in the shadows that now filled the streets of Skippingham, Esmond stole an unattended sancer and made his ultimate escape. He wasn’t even aware that he was heading in the direction that the Earl had arrived from.