“But that’s what she said.”
“That is what she said. But have you considered the idea that they are a liar?”
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“But that’s what she said.”
“That is what she said. But have you considered the idea that they are a liar?”
The end of my retirement came about, of all days, late on a Tuesday morning.
I suppose I should try to give an account of it, given my current position in the world. It is only fair, considering how little of my own experiences will ever be shared beyond a close circle of friends.
This does, however, give an extremely limited perspective on everything that had happened. I am, after all, only human and somewhat notorious for being unable to master even the basics of omnipotence or omniscience. I consider it one of my great personal failings.
It wasn’t even a particular interesting Tuesday. Just a regular Tuesday where I would continue my little book keeping business, finish some writing for my own studies, and maybe finally finish a puzzle I picked up in Knife’s Edge.
The last one was the least likely. I had brought it to my home nearly two years ago and the wooden box was now stained with untold rings of coffee, tea, or wine.
I had a nice little house, with two floors. The first was part workshop, and part storefront. I sold manuscripts, various studies, and other little books. The second floor was my actual workspace, what could charitably pass for a bed room despite the mess, as well as where I did most of my actual work. It was cozy, and the wine cellar considerably improved living.
I was downstairs, sitting in comfortable clothes. No one had come in today, which meant nobody could judge me for the bottle of open wine that was breathing on the counter. Or for the incredibly trashy romance novel sent to me by my friend Uruviel.
The three people that would change my life had entered through the front, letting in the knife-like winds of Salvar. They sat themselves neatly in the small waiting area I had set up for potential clients. My business, mostly accounting, basic mediation, sums, and occasional magical consultant, did not often attract many clients.
There were two women, and a single man. The smaller women, with white hair and a skimpy robe that screamed ‘I’m a mage’ took one of the seats. She almost oozed onto it, and I disliked her immediately.
The man in heavy metal armor took the other. Given the state of his face, I hoped for his sake that he had a sparkling personality, knew an instrument, and was rich.
The last, large woman just looked uncomfortable, trying not to shiver in ridiculous clothes for the climate. I saw she had bonked her head and shoulders on the entryway, requiring her to twist to enter properly. . I am not a small woman, nor I do not have a small entry way.
I didn’t put away the wine bottle on the counter. The novel, which had gotten to a particularly steamy and terribly written part, was forlornly left with a bookmark as I gave them my attention.
Never the less, there they were, sitting in silence. The large woman was doing her best not to look vaguely confused, and I think I was safe in pegging her as the muscle in the operation.
“We’re closing in about ten minutes.”
I wasn’t. I just wanted to be lazy.
I am not sorry.
“ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ ”
This was the woman. She had a surprisingly gravely voice.
“Um.”
“We should… not speak that here?”
The large woman this time. She had a much better voice. Maybe a bard when she wasn’t lifting entire ships above her head for fun.
“Kristel will learn it soon enough.”
The smaller woman. I could pick up the inflections. She was trained at Istien, the Raiaera song magic school.
“I would rather prefer it if you could speak the language I started the conversation in.”
I sighed, sitting down carefully. This was going to be a delicate . These were not the usual group of scholars or potential lovers trying to get on my good side.
They meant proper business. It was the little things. The wine bottle would not help.
The large woman’s jewelry was simple, and adamantine. The man’s armor was studded with dragon’s scales. The small woman was just a jerk and confident, but her company boosted her rating. Like a bunny hanging out with wolves. It had to be a pretty awesome bunny.
“My apologies, Ms. Kristel.”
The man again. He stood up, managing to loom. I frowned. I never could manage looming.
“None are needed, but we do still only have ten minutes.”
I pointed at the clock behind me. It was nearly eleven in the morning.
I could feel the smaller woman’s eye roll.
“We come representing the Sorie Trading Guild. My name is Iron Jorg. My two companions of Eliza, and Antiope”
The small woman and large respectively.
I smiled and gave each a greeting. Antiope was charming. Eliza was not.
“So what’ve you come here for? Certainly not the weather.”
“We can to hire you as a consultant for an unspecified amount of time, and to work for us”
I groaned inwardly.
“I charge quite a bit for that, especially when I do not know the scale of the work.”
“From what we’ve seen of your work, you would be so a sublime job. I have come to offer this as part of the offer.”
The man had a surprisingly nice voice despite his poor face. He reached into a pouch at his side and placed it onto the counter.
I picked up the engraved medallion engraved with an intricate and beautiful snake. The snake had several heads, each distinct. That must have been the symbol of the Sorie Trading Guild.
I raised an eyebrow in question at him.
“That will give free travel to any of the major countries on this continent. Any worthwhile merchant would □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ “
“Jorg? Language.”
Antiope, she must be the polite one. I liked her, even if one of her hands could probably crush my skull. The disdain Eliza shot at Iron Jorg was enough to cause him to stutter for a moment.
“I understood the meaning. But I still would need a proper description of what the job would entail. Especially one that does not have a definite end date.”
Business was still business.
“We would like you to find and interview someone for us. We require your expertise in this subject as you are one of the few people alive who understood him.”
“No.”
“Good, Now the-“
Eliza snorted, catching my eye again.
“That’s… Ms Kristel, your assistance in this endeavor is absolutely crucial to its success.”
I leaned forward and tapped the small sign on the other side of the desk. It faced the three potential customers, and clearly stated what I would accept.
“We cannot come back without you.”
Iron Jorg was adamant, though Eliza betrayed how annoyed she was at how this little exchange was going. I smiled, shrugging.
“I must ask you again, Ms. Kristel. Would you sign on as a consultant? You would be adequately compensated, and treated as an equal partner to my own □ □ □ □ □.”
The referential tone probably meant superior or boss. I shrugged.
“Sell me on it.”
“The Sorie TradingGuild has a long history in witnessing much of what happens to our world. From the smaller corners where a small child is born, to the machinations of a particularly caustic woman, to the iron body of a Salvar Nobel, we pride ourselves on out ability to see them all. Our trade routes have never been matched, and it is through our influence that Fallien first opened their borders to trade. We brought the technology of Alerar out of those dark lands and helped found the-“
I held up a hand. Jorg paused, confused. I kept my hand up until he sat down slowly.
“A bit more quickly. Please respect my time, I do have many things to work on.”
The wine bottle wasn’t even half empty yet.
“We need your ass to go to Raieara and find Xem’Zund, and interview him.”
This was Eliza, who stood. I finally noticed it as she moved. She was showcasing a powerful magic, and one I didn’t notice, but the after effects were there.
Like the calm wake behind a shark, or the center of a hurricane.
“Absolutely not.”
Eliza was not perturbed. She nodded to Antiope. The massive woman left, stepping out for a moment. She still had to twist her massive body to fit through the door correctly. When she squeezed back through the door, she held in her hand a massive sack. A single step for her brought her to my desk, and I reflexively stepped back.
She dropped it onto the table. It broke beneath the weight of whatever was inside. The legs simply snapped, and the bag burst from its pregnant contents.
Gold coins spilled out in several directions.They fell seemingly endlessly, trickling down like water. I could see the different mints, different faces carved into the soft metal of each individual coin. Their faces were beautiful, the work of an expert engineer to create the machine, and an expert artist to capture their visage. Even as the dust began to rise, I could feel my eyes widen, taking in them all. The sheer number of them did nothing to diminish their individual beauty. The Jya of Fallien, the monarch of Salvar, even coins from Xem’Zund’s forces with his disgusting visage were there. Silver and brass coins, favored in other lans were mixed in. Each of them was polished to a mirror sheen, perfect and sublime. They steamed in the warm air of my house, having been left outside for some time.
“Do I need to pack my own paper?”
Several days later, we had dealt with a lot e of the tedious paperwork out of the way in order to ensure that I would be properly compensated for both my time and travel. I was an expensive catch, after all. I had spent the time primarily going through my own things and packing accordingly.
Bribing the local official in town not to raid my house was a trivial matter. I like the Salvarian noble, and her husband doted on me. They were more than okay with a modest bribe one a quarter, and gracing them with my presence to pass the time during a dinner.
I had my first three notebooks from the origins of the Kristel Report tucked away, and wrapped in oilcloth. They were almost painfully amateur to me now, especially since the later volumes were so much more impressive. I still can’t believe I was proud to observe how bad Xem’zund’s grunt forces were at fighting, and that discipline could have weathered their assault.
Completely ignoring seeing your loved ones rise out of the grave and murder you, of course. The emotional stress was important. Again, these early reports were amateur, and I had the more important details committed to memory.
Along with the notebooks, I had an assortment of writing implements, mostly pencils. Ink was fancy, but waterproof paper and hard pencils were so much more useful when you have to jump into a river to escape.
My daggers were in their little sheaths and wrapped in socks so they wouldn’t clink. I always packed extra socks. The demonskin skirt and vlince skirt were also packed away. I’d change into them when we weren’t in freezing Salvar weather.
Aside from that small pack, The Sorie Trading Guild (or Iron Jorg more specifically) promised that I would get a special traveling pack of their highest design. I looked forward to two days of raisons and a lingering notion some accountant was smug that they cut costs on supplying their adventurers.
Still, it was promised to be comfortable. I wasn’t actually expected to do anything for a while. Raiera was quite a long way from my little workshop in Salvar.
I was brought to the harbor, along with Iron Jorg, Eliza and Antiope. There was a smaller ship that we clambered onto, and Antiope rowed us to a much larger galleon anchored out at sea. The amazon kept up pleasant conversation the entire time, apparently forgetting that rowing 4 people in a large dinghy was supposed to be difficult.
We were then lifted onto the boat through a clever system of ropes and pulleys. Antiope immediately took control as the apparent captain of her crew. This was unsurprising, considering the easy nature about her. She looked much more comfortable at sea, no longer even shivering in the cold air.
There were twenty crewman that I could count, from a variety of walks. Apparently this was one of those motley crews. You also didn’t need to be an expert to see each was a master in their own little way, utilizing a diverse series of magics and abilities that were supernatural.
It’s also pertinent to mention that despite my current soft appearance I was once also a privateer for Alerar. Antiope’s crew, which she used like her own hands, put every single other ship I had been on to shame. Every rivet and floor was magnificently clean, without a speck of rust or buildup.
Even the ship’s cat, a particularly ugly and over affectionate sort, was perfectly groomed. Pity it’s scarred face could give even Iron Jorg a run for its money.
I watched them for a time as Iron Jorg and Eliza went below deck. Eliza had muttered a string of divisive curses as she went down, wobbling with legs not suited to the sea. It made me smile a little to see her do that.
Later throughout the journey, I barely saw the impressive woman. She had her own cabin, and took her meals there. During one of the nights, a drunk Iron Jorg confessed the woman could barely function on ships.
Also, despite thoroughly researching the topic, I still do not know how many drinks it would take to make Iron Jorg appealing.
Antiope brought us out of the harbor smoothly, and we traveled for several hours until nightfall. Dinner was fresh fish that someone had caught while in the harbor. They collected the leftovers, and I was shown to my room, one that I shared with Eliza.
It was during the next day, in the early afternoon that I finally had a chance to talk to Antiope.
“So, captain then?”
“Yes! It was something I did not think would happen. My friend Reznik would often joke and say I never would be!”
I raised an eyebrow at this. She was still working even as we talked, coiling the heavy chain of the anchor. Said anchor was the only thing out of place on the ship, a massive black thing the size of a carriage. Beside her, a strong looking man with a big nose was shoveling foul smelling leftovers the side.
“I have worked for the Sorie’s for… just under three decades now. My family is not from around here.”
I snorted, smiling widely. The giant woman returned the gesture. She didn’t look a day over thirty, and I suspected she was like me and much older than she looked.
“And I was not always on their ships. I worked in Fallien first, guarding the merchant Reznik as he spoke to the Jya. He has his own ships, but it was a small fleet. He wanted to ship glass and other artifacts from the Holy Desert.”
I nodded, sitting on the side of the ship. I could not place Antiope’s accent, a rarity for me. The man with the long nose (I think his name was Tengu?) Continued shoveling.
“After receiving her blessing, we both went through her trial-“
“Trial?”
I interrupted, leaning forward. I had never heard of the woman that was the Jya doing such a thing. The currant one was famously known for being xenophobic to the extreme.
“Yes, the Jya used to be much more fickle and mischievous! But li-“
“It was a different Jya then? A different woman who held the title?”
Antiope shook her head, finishing coiling the chain. She stood, focused for a moment as she lifted the massive anchor and lowered it over the side carefully. Antiope wore skimpy clothing, and I could see how her muscles bunch and flexed like tectonic plates as she worked. She hung the anchor, sitting down gently and with a grin. She was barely even winded.
I made a mental note to not get bear hugged.
“No no. It was the same Jya, but a different woman.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Antiope…”
“It is like… how the the sails above us are the ship’s sails.”
She pointed up at the billowing cloth. They were patched and strong, full of the gusting wind of the ocean. I raised an eyebrow.
“They remain the ship’s sails, even though I have replaced nearly all of it with repairs. See? The same sails. The same Jya.”
I nodded, then let the woman continue.
“So after we completely the trial of the Jya, and where I received the scars on my hands, we were allowed to open trade with Fallien. The Sorie Trading Guild had a hand in establishing that first port, but the Jya had simple requests!”
I stared, then realized that Antiope was looking for an answer.
“That you… name a ship after her”
This got a chuckle form the woman. An infectious one that brought a grin to my own face. Tengu, the man throwing chum over the side didn’t seem to notice. He was watching for something.
“No no! That I, or Reznik my good friend, would be on each ship in or out. Or any others that we brought to the Holy Desert to be approved by the Jya directly . We had to take ownership of our responsibilities.”
“Not many people get to meet the woman…”
“I barely did. I follow Reznik’s advice and touch my forehead to the floor.”
She demonstrated. Watching the muscles on her back move was mesmerizing, and made me feel self conscious.
“It took me nearly fifteen years to learn how to properly Captain my ship, Ms Kristel. It is a welcome change my my formally… violent life.”
“Captain Big, we got a nibbler!”
It was Tengu, watching something over the side of ship. There was thrashing in the water below, and I swallowed. I recognized those sounds. One of the sea monsters in the area had taken an interest in the chum that Tengu had been slopping out.
“Finally, I was worried we would actually need to fish. Ms Kristel, I must fulfill my obligations as captain of my vessal.”
The massive woman stood, putting a foot on the railing and beginning to undo the sandals around her feet.
“Lower the sails! Keep course! Prepare the cleaning area!”
There were a few cheers, and I could see the crew leaving their stations. Those stuck lowering the sail moved quickly as the rest scampered to the railing, or lines to watch. I walked over beside Antiope to peer over. I spotted Iron Jorg reading the book her had brought. He seemed bored with the whole event.
Below us, nearly thirty feet long, a gray sleek form cut through the water and around the ship. Every third or so pass, the monster poked it’s pointy head out of the water to massive a massive bite and swallow more of the chum Tengu kept chucking. The thing could have swallowed me whole.
My knees actually began shaking as Antiope took an easy step onto the side rail. She was as balanced as a cat, barefoot and barely dressed, not minding the cold. She raised a hand, quieting her crew. I watched with wide eyes at the ritual, to see Antiope bit her thumb enough to draw blood.
She let it fall into the ocean, a red splash lost in the endless expanse. The monster seemed to notice, twisting towards it and swallowing where the drop fell. I swallowed again.
“For the Thayne of Boar and War!”
Antiope jumped from the rail, hurtling down with a splash in the water. The sea monster turned on her immediately, fresh meat on its mind. Antiope was still under water as it dove under the surface and out of sight.
About twenty seconds later, the leviathan came up directly under the amazon, throwing her and itself into the air! I would never forget Antiope’s face as her lower half was in the thing’s jaws, blood spilling.
It was pure ecstasy.
She reared a massive fist back, and began to strike the se monster as they fell back into the ocean. The foam and splash made us loose them for a moment, until Antiope’s head popped back up over the ocean. She raised a fist triumphantly, one of the monster’s massive eyes clutched within.
The cheer from her crew was nearly primal. I slowly sidled away as they threw out hooks and rope for their Captain. I found myself next to Iron Jorg, still reading his book and evidently not noticing what was happening.
“Does… this happen often?”
I tried not to sound intimidated. I don’t think it worked.
“Every major voyage she does this.”
The man in the heavy armor pointed at Tengu, who was with the rest of the crew.
“She found a blood summoner, and convinced him to join. Antiope believes that if she sacrifices such a creature to Hromgr before each voyage, they’ll have fair weather.”
I was silent, blinking as the crew kept shouting.
“It doesn’t do as much work as much as the warlock and witch she has on the ship. Both specialized in wind and water magics, and do most of the work to keep the ship safe”
He pointed the two of them out without looking up from his book.. One was on the helm, the other at the forefront of the bloody thirty crowd. Antiope herself was climbing over the railing now.
I could see the teeth as long as my hand sticking out of her thighs and stomach. Her body was sopping wet, the brine mixing with blood on the floor.
“She does it, Ms Kristel, because that’s who she is.”
I stared at the massive woman, laughing and helping to drag the massive catch over the railing.
“We cannot change who we are, Ms. Kristel. The Titan did not abandon her past when she joined the Guild and took on the title of Merchant.”
My look obviously said more than my words ever could. Iron Jorg did was passed for a grin on his mangled face.
"Not that she hasn't stagnated, of course."
The rest of the voyage passed without incident. Antiope and her crew were exceptional sailors, and the weather quickly began to improve as we sailed south.
We actually took a very circuitous route. I followed our path along the sea by tracking the stars. Rather than skimming along the coast, Antiope’s vessel went out to the open ocean and then sailed down.
When I was able to catch her alone about it during the fourth night of the journey, she brushed the question aside. For such a direct woman, she could be surprisingly, and very effectively evasive. Considering the distractions on the ship, I couldn’t blame her either. I was able to get a little bit out of her though.
“It is not like we are wandering, and not everyone who does so is lost, Ms.Kristel.”
“I know, I was just curio-“
“But some are! Sea gods and mischievous land spirits enjoy hiding signs, changing the coast and shuffling things around.”
I didn’t try to pry anymore out of her after that.
The final meal of the trip was a raucous affair. I had started to lend a hand scrubbing down and cleaning the ship. It was boring without anything to do on a ship, and the crew’s stories were as varied as any other adventurer’s.
Last of my legacy this and my father was killed that, which really was to be expected. Changing the world did attract a certain type. No matter the past, griping about rust and salt as you sweat beneath a sail would quickly build a lifelong friendship.
And wow. They knew how to throw a goodbye party.
Nursing a hangover and wincing from pleasantly sore muscles, I said my final goodbyes to the powerful Antiope and her crew. Iron Jorg had explained early in the trip the big woman was our transport, and bodyguard while we were on the sea.
He didn’t elaborate on what would happen on land, but I doubted that the heavy iron armor he wore was for show. Especially considering how he seemed to sink into the earth with each step. I took estimates, then pursed my lips.
I was not the lightest woman alive, and I released the Featherweight spell with a soft hum. My feet sank, a noticeable amount more than even Iron Jorg’s. I nodded, a soft hum letting my body returning my weight to something more manageable.
The ugly scar that served as the armored man’s face twitched. I recognized it as a smile. He had noticed, but knew not to ask. Sound advice, you should never ask any woman their weight.
Especially when they outweigh most horses.
Shut it.
Eliza was the last person to leave the ship, still green and swaying as she almost stumbled down the plank and onto the soil of Raiaera. Her clothes remained pristine, despite their sick looking wearer.
“It is a pleasure as always, Ms. Eliza.”
“Stuff it, dragon bitch.”
Eliza’s quick retort brought another uncomfortable looking twitch to Iron Jorg’s face and a much more hearty snort. He clapped her on the back. She scowled up at him, putting a face over her mouth.
He turned to me, and nodded thoughtfully.
“Ms. Antiope brought us to port precisely when she promised. We’ll need to wait here for a day or two before the supplies from the Trading Guild arrive.”
“Two days?!?”
Eliza, looking incredulous at him. I raised an eyebrow at the comment.So far everything had moved like clockwork.
“Yes, it is company policy that all time estimates be padded to account for unforeseen issues. Bad winds, pirates, portals through Hadia or civil wars disrupting the normal plans. Even Ms. Antiope’s ship is not excused from process.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Fuck.”
Eliza began stomping off, finding her feet on the solid ground faster than either of us. I could feel the sheer power crackling in her. It was like seeing a cloud just before lightning struck.
She turned, her face still green.
“We’re staying at the good inn then. Not the shitty dock one.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
“We’re in a in shitty dock inn.”
Turns out this was one of the more ravaged areas of Raiaera from Xem’Zund’s forces, and the inns and taverns further from the fish smell of the docs were destroyed, still used as barracks, or had their wine cellars depleted.
Basically unlivable.
“It’s not that bad, you get used to this. Child’s squire up two.”
I was clearly much calmer about the situation. Eliza and I were sharing a table, three bottles of awful red wine out before us. Neither of us had carried cards or paper that could be spared for games.
We made do.
“That’s because your fat ass is a cushion for wherever you go. Probably don’t even feel the splinters. King’s spearman forward two.”
I made a face at Eliza. Her eyes sparkled at me, laughing. Iron Jorg was currently sleeping, and I had no one else to be with. I polished off my glass, the third to Eliza’s one.
You were not alone in Raiaera if you could help it. And I was going to enjoy beating her in our game.
I also couldn’t deny it. Eliza was a twig. One of my thighs was as thick as the woman’s slim, svelte waist.
“Witch’s squire forward two. And I will take that as compliment.”
“Feisty. Spearman takes your… squire? So why did we have to lug you from Salvar to here?”
“Hrm? And Witch takes your spearman.”
“Well you might’ve guessed that I’m not particularly a fan of cold, boats, or woman that might steal attention from me. So I’m curious. Why the witch in the north? Assassin to King’s square. f6.”
“You call your faeries assassins? Child’s Fairy to f3.”
“They’re sneaky bastards, and slip past strike behind the lines. Much better than fairy. You’re also avoiding the question. Assassin to g4.”
“Cute. Child’s simulacrum up a bit to b5. And it’s because I’m not an idiot, and can see what you’re doing.”
“Like that matters. Xem’Zund’s been in hiding or something for years now. Spearman to c6 , let’s block your little simulacrum. I call them priests, and you’ve left him open.”
“Moving the Simulacrum back. a4. And hardly!”
My voice was a little huffy at this. We both took a moment to drain a glass of the awful wine. Eliza’s face was flush with that dumb smirk.
I poured us each another. She thanked me with a raised eyebrow.
“Xem’Zund’s dead. Mostly.”
Eliza frowned, not believing me.
“So why the fuck did we pick you up to go talk to him? Spearman up two, on b5.”
“Because apparently someone in your silly Guild didn’t get a memo. A man named Godhand killed the old Xem’Zund, or at least his previous body. Squire up one to h3.”
“The Sorie Trading Guild is not wrong. Spearman takes your fucking Simulacrum.”
Apparently I touched a nerve. I just shrugged, giving a dumb grin.
“It’s not like Xemmy was that unique. One of his awful lieutenants is probably waving his undead dick around and claiming to be him. Squire bonks your Assassin.”
Eliza’s face went through a complicated series of expressions, then broke out in a dumb smile with an ugly, but endearing snort. She raised her glass, drinking deeply with a giggle.
“And he probably just gobbled up Xemmy’s old power somewhere, and is now aping on his infamy. Think of it like stabbing the chosen one, dying your hair blond, stuffing your shirt, and taking their place.”
“Alright, alright, we’re gonna back the fuck up. Xemmy? And King’s priest to b4. Check”
“Witch takes your priest. Xemmy.”
Eliza’s scowl deepened. The wine was hitting her much harder than me.
“It’s cute! You learn more about someone, the more you start finding them endearing. And it’s easier to talk about Xemmy than the Dread Lord Xem’Zund, scourge of the Raiaeran Wasteland, He That Takes, and Lifebreaker.”
Eliza snorted again, despite her frustration with the game. I leaned forward, smiling. I did have four glasses of wine in me at this point.
“Stop that shit, So we’re bringing you to go and talk to him, because?”
“He’s definitely dead.”
“He isn’t. King Castle. ”
“You can’t, Witch’s blocking.”
“Fine, Queen’s pawn up one.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Witch to d4 then, back in her column.”
“Now King Castle.
Obstinate. Though not unexpected. Both the move and her. She was getting sloppy.
“Well, I wrote the book on him, or the report. Simulacrum to f4.”
“You’re kidding. Spearman forward one to c5, challenging your Witch.”
“Not at all! I was in the war. Worked with the Istien University. As did you, at some point. Never did become an alumni though…”
She scoffed waving a dismissive hand. I saw the inkling of power she put into it. The space she moved her hand through wasn’t there for a moment, coming back with a small, distinct pop.The bartender whipped his head up at the sound.
Neat!
“It’s over rated. They stopped properly teaching nearly two centuries ago. The real movers didn’t bother sitting around regurgitating scales.”
“There was a definite anti-undead bias while I was there, yes. And Witch takes spearman in front of your Queen.”
She scowled, holding up a finger.
“Give me a second, I need to get the board straight again.”
She took a drink from her wine glass.
“Why’d we have to haul your fat ass from Salvar to Raiaera, and get dragon bitch, the big woman with the ham hands, and myself involved?”
“You don’t work together often?”
She shook her head, clearly thinking about the next move. It was obvious what she’d do.
“Queen takes your fucking Witch.”
She looked so proud.
“Simulacrum takes your Queen. Whoops.”
She scoffed, thens scowled. I grinned. It was cute seeing her face go through the surprisingly conflicting emotions of arrogance and momentary defeat.
“Hardly. I’ve only met Antiope twice before. And Jorg only brings me when he needs shit to get done.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds a little excessive?”
“That’s why I wanna know why we brought you. Professional curiosity. And why I had to suffer that awful ship. And Priest takes your fucking spearman, g4. ”
I shrugged, then made a small sweeping gesture. I frowned slightly. Not a real board. Right.
I think the wine was getting to me.
“Simulacrum takes your tree. Thank you.”
“Tree?”
“The ones that move like a rectangle? Left and right, up and down?”
“Fuck… Let’s pause, I want this dumb answer out of you. We’ll have enough time on the trip while Jorg’s ugly face pisses off a bear.
I nodded, closing my eyes. I took something like a snapshot of my mind, filing the game away for later.
“Which dumb answer?”
“Why we brought you fat ass from Salvar to talk to some… dead asshole.”
I made a face at the insult, but shrugged.
“I wrote a report on him, and expanded it quite a bit.”
“You wrote a book on one of the Forgotten Ones.”
“Yep.”
Her intense eyes locked onto mine. I blinked freely, the magic she was using to try and intimidate me as effective as a puppy barking at the ocean.
And Eliza knew about the Forgotten Ones. Huh.
They really should figure out a better name for them.
“You weren’t kidding. Fuck.”
The thin woman leaned back, draining her glass. When she tried to fill it back up, the bottle it came from emptied before it was a quarter full.
“And he’s probably not dead anyway. Well, dead dead.”
I took one of the wine bottles, twirling a finger as magic slowly bore into the cork.
“Now you’re contradicting yourself.”
“It’s…”
I trailed off, popping the cork out. I set it to circle around my still twirling finger and pursed my lips. Shit, I haven’t had to actually explain this before.
“Think of Xem’Zund, or really any of the Forgotten Ones as like this wine bottle.”
I held up the full bottle.
“It’s filled up with terrible power that makes the practitioner into something close enough to a god that it becomes semantics. Follow?”
“Terrible magic.”
“Terrible power, an important distinction.”
The woman was scowling, and I filled her glass, and then mine.
“And now whoops, he’s spread his power around, into other vessels. Xem’Zund is still going strong, but he’s a little weaker now. And his two lieutenants…”
I tapped the two wine glasses.
“Could be mistaken for him if you weren’t careful.”
“Okay… so now what. It’s a fucking shell game of necromancy?”
“Well, now let’s say that somebody came along and ‘killed’ him. Probably a few someone’s, but for this example…”
I brought the bottle up and began to drink. It took a few swallows and I let out a satisfied sigh despite the terrible wine. The empty bottle made a satisfing little thunk on the table as I put it down. I also belched a little, blushing with embarrassment. Eliza’s face was worth it.
When you weigh more than a horse, it’s a little hard to get drunk off of just two bottles of wine.
“Now we have an empty shell, and two glasses. The two glasses are now, for all intent and purposes, Xemmy!”
Eliza’s face was screwed up n concentration, or disappointment.
“But, we still got this bottle and…”
I tipped it back, letting my tongue loll to catch the last few drops.
“It still has power. It didn’t go away. The power’s now in me, and some small bits still in the original bottle, and the two wine glasses. Now… now now now!”
I grinned, pushing one of the glasses to Eliza. She took a sip, understanding my intention. I am clever, afterall.
“Now you have some of the power in you. It’s never created, or destroyed. There’s a pool of… power’s not even the right word, but it’s close enough. Power to influence everything around you?”
“Focus, bitch.”
Eliza snaps her hand to keep me focused. I wave a hand, acknowledging it.
“But just because Xem’zund is gone, doesn’t mean his influence, or his power is. I suspect if the man who killed him had survived, or had others around who did, Xemmy’s influence would have burrowed into them, and they’d be forever changed from it. One last little laugh.”
“That’s dumb. You’re dumb.”
Eliza’s face was incredulous. I made a kissy face at it. I am also petty sometimes.
“Never got a chance to confirm though. I know Pöde was killed a while ago. One of the ones who did that probably could help, but I haven’t bothered to find any yet.”
I shrugged. Might as well be honest.
“So we brought you along because you’re dumb, but the only dumb bitch who ever bothered to study the Forgotten Ones.”
“Well, that and understand it. I have… call it a knack for it. Do your thing again.”
“What?”
“The thing, where you waved you hand and made the… pop.”
Eliza’s face contorted again, and she waved her arm. There was that pop. I could feel the influence of it, see the void she created. I made a gesture, asking her to repeat it without words. She did.
“So… why?”
I grinned, and waved my own hand. There was a crackle, only the barest hint of it. I frowned, then focused my attention. The second time, a much softer pop escaped. I wouldn’t be able to match her skill, but it should be enough. Still, I never would have thought to channel power into Nothing like that. I made a mental note to play with it more.
Eliza was standing up, spilling both glasses of wine and knocking over her chair. She loomed over me, magic physically crackling in the air around her. I could see small chunks of the table disappearing just by being near the woman.
“What the fuck did you just do?!?”
I grinned, sitting back in my seat. I could hear the grinding of the thin woman's teeth.
“I have a knack for magic, Eliza. That’s why you came crawling through the Salvaran tundra to find me.”
Quote:
Game Notation:
1.e4 e5 2.d4 exd4 3.Qxd4 Nf6 4.Nf3 Ng4 5.Bb5 c6 6.Ba4 b5 7.h3 bxa4 8.hxg4 Bb4+ 9.Qxb4 d6 10.Qd4 O-O 11.Bf4 c5 12.Qxd6 Qxd6 13.Bxd6 Bxg4 14.Bxf8
I confess, this next part is something of a blur to me.
Not because of the wine or Eliza being annoyed with having to share a room with Jorg, but because I simply was not awake for most of this.
I mentioned earlier some of the destruction of Raiaera, the land of the high elves. I also referenced what Xem’Zund did, and my own expertise in the Forgotten Ones which he is a part of. My study actually began with the necromancer Xem’Zund’s attack on the elven nation, and how they were able to repel him.
What was not mentioned, but could have been inferred is the near lawlessness of some pats of the broken nation. Other parts are held together tightly in an iron fist, using the army’s strength of arms and the Bladesingers exalted fighters and masters of theHigh Elves’ song magic, within their employ like a particularly brutal club to keep order maintained. I admired their ability to keep the land in check, and how they were beginning to rebuild their devastated land.
What I did not admire was their xenophobic hate of anything they couldn’t control, or their unofficial stance towards insurgents, rebels, rabble rousers and other people that wanted to feed their children more than hope.
“Fire has no eyes.”
I found it disgusting.
I feel I should point out the coming hole in my story. I mentioned the little port area was reasonably busy, and filled with people. There will be almost none for this coming section. These Bladesingers that arrived worked to ‘evacuate’ most of them. It’s a simple piece of song magic to hide all other sounds, and they used it well. I do not know where they were taken, likely north or out to sea. Please do not confuse these actions for noble.
The magic of Xem’Zund lingered in Raiaera, and cremation had become the norm ever since.
“ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □□ □ □ □ □ □□ □ □ □ □ □! ”
The sun was nearly rising when the door to my inn room was burst open. Unfortunately, I had barely noticed as it was blown off its hinges and landed with a clatter. I also missed the light steps.
I did finally notice when a small hand slapped one of the softer parts of my body.
“Wake up, fatass! You heard what’s happening?”
“-Liza? I hadn’t heard anythi-“
“Fuck what you heard.”
I was sitting up at this point, and the elf’s hand slapped me across the check. Whatever drowsiness I had left, and I recognized the small spell she had sung with her words. Clever girl.
“It’s what you’re hearing now. We need to move.”
She wasn’t wearing the same robe as before. Now it was only what I’d call a cute black dress. While she couldn’t quite fill out the plunging neckline, she still looked more at home at a formal ball than what would soon become a battlefield. I also began to dress, though hardly elegantly. She was staring by my outside window, looking out of it and down the street. Obviously we hadn’t been found yet. She didn’t even sway, despite the bottle of wine she had finished earlier.
I finally managed to get a shirt on in the dark by the time Eliza decided to elaborate.
“People who would rather not allow the Sorie Trading Guild to get its prize. So we’re bugging out and meeting with Jess to pick up our supplies north of her.”
“So the timetable’s moved further up.”
I sounded far more calm than I actually was. My hands were shaking as I struggled to button up my pants, little curses against past-me for not updating my wardrobe.
“That’s a polite way of saying it’s all about to go to shit. But we’ll be okay, it’s only five Bladesingers in town, and two squads of troops.”
My face went white, and my mouth dry.
“Just use your ‘knack’ and you’ll be fine, fatass. You only need to deal with one of them. Jorg’s gonna get the other four. He’s downstairs dressing now. I’ll take care of the men.”
“Wh-what? You’re kidding.”
The elf smiled, I and noticed just how sharp her teeth were.
“This is not a fucking game. These fuckers wanna fight us?”
Her body rippled, the air around her arms tearing and crackling as she raised a middle finger to the wall that faced the street. Her face was split from ear to ear in a wide, sharp grin.
“They gonna fight these tears.”
She turned, and I could see the streaming power behind her too. She swiped twice, her hand ripping through the wood like it was water. The entire room shook as she kicked it out and leapt. She must have been waiting for one of the squads to be by the inn before doing so. I hurried to the massive hole she created, and nearly vomited from the sight below me. The elf had torn through most of the squad, breaking and severing limbs like an scythe through wheat. What remained of their resolve and discipline had started their panicked retreat, with Eliza hunting after them.
It was almost funny how I noticed she has driven one of those magically enhanced hands through so many of the enemies’ skull, preventing their rise from Xem’Zund’s residual magic.
I grabbed my bag and rushed down to the main dining room, where I drank with Eliza only a few hours before. I am not too proud to admit that I was not particularly enticing, huffing and puffing in the room.
“Good evening, Ms. Kristel.”
Iron Jorg was there, though he hadn’t turned to see me. He was staring at the door, as if daring it to open. Beyond I could hear the sounds of feet shuffling and the army hymn of several Bladesingers.
My face went white.
“Good… evening? What’s happening?”
“Eliza did not inform you?”
I could hear the surprise in his polite voice. The man was slowly tightening and strapping on armor. In the small light, he cut a precise figure.
“The Sorie Trading Guild is not… on the best of terms with the Bladesingers, nor the current establishment that has been overseeing the rebuilding of their country. They have sent several several strongly worded letters before regarding our group’s actions even before the Corpse War.”
I blinked, putting it together quickly. Iron Jorg must have heard the curse under my breath. He shrugged.
“We are primarily a business, Miss Kristel, and neutral in all things. Now, you are aware of what will need to happen?”
I shook my head.
“You, Miss Kristel, will leave through the side exit. There is a single obstacle before you will need to go through, and I am uniquely unable to deal with. You will then meet up with Eliza near the exit to the town, near the cliffs. I may require assistance by then.”
I blinked. He saw the trepidation on my face.
“Miss Kristel, the Sheep are at the gate. I’m going to leave through the front door and provide you an avenue to deal with the woman seeking to sneak around us. I do not believe that the Bladesingers are aware they are facing the Provisional Army of the Sorie Trading Guild, but whatever survivors remains will not give us long to escape into the plague lands.”
The man’s ugly face twisted, and I forgot what smiles were for a moment.
“I’ll…I’ll go out of the side then…”
Jorg nodded, then turned toward the door.
“Oh yes, Ms Kristel? Before you go…”
I gave the man a nod,showing I was paying attention, even as my mouth dried.
“It is a pleasure to work with you. I cannot wait to continue.”
He raised a foot, kicking the heavy tavern door by its hinges. It flew off with a wrenching sound, splinters and door rocketing out and crashing on the ground some fifty feet from the entrance. The thing that pretended to be a man stepped through the hole he created, a look of disappointment that his exit did not do any noticeable damage to the four dark figures standing outside. His voice boomed out in challenge and laughter.
“ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ !”
I just ran where I was told to.