Unwieldy (Fantasy & Hammers)

[Sarius]

Chapter 54: A Plan

Rethi awoke from his forced slumber only a few minutes later, and we sparred for the rest of the night, brutally destroying each other's bodies. The boy still needed to get used to copious amounts of pain, and I was going easy on him. He knew that I was, of course, he had been dealing out pain on me for months, so he was as much a maestro of it as I was.

Tearing ligaments, breaking minor bones, damaging sensitive organs, obstructing breathing with force. It was interesting to be the teacher now, rather than the pupil, but as the hours passed, it seemed like the boy still needed to sleep. At least for now.

I trained long after Rethi went back to the house for rest, returning myself to the katas that I had formulated oh so many months ago—to get myself used to the weight of my hammer. Now, though, the weight was enormous and impractical.

It didn't help that the hammer scaled with my strength, so I wasn't sure, apart from formulating some shifting trickery, that I'd ever be able to wield the thing without looking like a drunk man swinging around a stick he picked up.

Hours passed as I trained, a usual occurrence. My brain had long since recalibrated to my twenty-four-hour schedule, almost allowing me to fast forward through my own actions as I repeated and tweaked my training on autopilot.

Before long the sun had emerged from behind the orb moving through the sky, the rays of light always a captivatingly beautiful sight over the glassy plains, with the condensation of morning dew resting gently on the blades of grass—stretching over dips and rises that formulated the landscape.

I let myself train comfortably for a few hours longer than I usually did, enjoying the silence and clear headedness that came with the warming morning air.

Interestingly, I caught sight of a singular person all the way out here, an unusual sight. Not many went out past this way, especially because of the threat from the forest wolves that way. Only travellers and merchants really came out this far. I squinted my eyes to try and get a better look at the person, dressed in farmer's clothes. For what reason they were out here I couldn't possibly understand, but I just gave the farmer a polite wave.

The farmer gave a hesitant wave back, and walked their way back towards the town centre. I wasn't really worried about hiding my hammer around the townsfolk, there really wasn't any reason. The education level around here was abysmally low, and even if they potentially recognised the hammer for what it was as a part of a legend, my word would overpower theirs by simply spinning some bullshit.

I sighed as I decided to walk my way towards Mayer's home myself. Last I'd seen of the ex-weilder of Hindle, he'd been bleeding from a stab wound and seemed like he had everything under control, at least form his emotions anyway.

I plodded my way along the dirt path, making it to the homey wooden structure and stepping inside. An immediate check of my surroundings with my empathy told me that Mayer was in bed in his room, probably the only time I'd ever seen him in bed outside him actually sleeping.

I walked to the kitchen first, making the man some tea and a small breakfast using the ether powered cooking implements. Though Mayer rarely bothered to even use them, just using his own flame for whatever reason.

I bustled my way into the old man's room, holding a few plates stacked with a not-at-all healthy breakfast of pancakes slathered in a syrup that wasn't anything that I had ever tasted before coming here, but it was powerful and overwhelmingly sweet, so it served its purpose.

"How's it going, cripple?" I asked jokingly as I walked into Mayer's room. Clean, orderly, and barebones would be a good description of his room, though there were a few personal items strewn about the place.

"Bah," the man scoffed with a painful grimace, "I can still give you a hiding, kid, don't you worry about me." I laughed as I handed him the tea and place the food on his side table, for him to attack later when he felt up to it.

"You wish, old man." I said, truthfully in a sense of the word. Mayer could probably still kick my ass three days from Sunday with shifting, but not physically anymore. Maybe not anymore at all, a somewhat sad thought.

I gave the older man a once over. Mayer still retaining his mostly youthful appearance that had gained from whipping out Hindle a few days ago, looking more like a thirty-five to forty-year-old man than someone in their early two-hundreds, but that certainly didn't change the fact that the man felt far frailer than before.

Beforehand he was a physical powerhouse, even without wielding Hindle. Now he had been stripped of that power, left to be just an abnormally fit and healthy man. Some of the attacks that I had trained with the man in the past would eviscerate the man now. Though I suspected that he was just as strong with his shifting as he was before.

I looked down to a large piece of cloth that was securely bandaged to the side of his stomach, where he was bleeding from after the ceremony. Mayer saw my looking, and with a crooked grin, ripped away the cloth and showed me the wound. Or, in this case, a lack thereof.

"Do I wanna ask?" I said, perturbed. After a moment, the place where the not-wound was began to trickle with blood, welling up through the skin with seemingly no regard for the barrier of flesh and skin. Mayer pulled the bloody cloth back into place, grimacing as he did.

"Magical revenge wound. All the pain and annoyance with none of the death. Gut wounds are a bitch." He said between gritted teeth. I nodded, amused.

"So Hindle is a vengeful blessed blade, huh?" I asked, and the man nodded, a wry grin on his face.

"Hindle has its own mind. Not a complicated one, mind you, but one either way. I'm not sure if it'll ever get to the point of human intelligence, but it did seem to get smarter over my time wielding it." Well, that could either be a good or bad thing, depending how it panned out. Typically giving items sapience, let along sentience it regarded as a bad move, but what can you do.

"That'll have to be Rethi's problem, hey? Mr. Midday will have to deal with sapient Divine Swords and Demigods while you get to sit back and drink tea till the end of time." I chuckled and Mayer nodded.

"Not quite till the end of time. This old man will have an expiration date soon enough." I raised an eyebrow, worried, but he just laughed painfully, "Don't you fret, kiddo. It'll be decades till that point. Hindle was nice enough to let me keep this youthful body, even if it did stab me in the gut."

We let he room slowly sink into a companionable silence between the two of us, something that over the months had become a staple of our time together. Rethi sometimes called me an old man wearing a twenty-year-old's skin for it, but over time I'd taken to Mayer's way of thinking. There was always time for talk later, but silence could achieve just as much as inane claptrap.

Looking into the man's emotions, I found a puddle of a few different intermingling emotions. There was sadness there, maybe even a slight tinge of regret. But there was also an overwhelming sense of relief and… happiness. He was comfortable, even when he was in immense pain. Content. I sighed deeply.

"You aren't going to come with us." I stated. Of course, I had known this from the start, really. He had come to this small little, nameless town to get away from everything. Mayer nodded, confirming even when he didn't need to.

"I thought I'd always be needed. A warrior for the people. A people that I loved and cared about more than even myself. A people that I sacrificed everything for, lost friends and men and women that I had known for decades for. Soon enough, when I sat atop the tower, praised to the high heavens, having become the champion for the people I loved, it all changed." Mayer looked out the window thoughtfully, staring at the wind that was gently glowing through the leaves of a tree. He took a sip from his tea, letting it sit in his mouth and letting his muscled relax against the pain in his stomach.

"The war was over, my usefulness depleted. The unity that we had found, allying against the horrors of the Champions shattered once more, even if everyone pretended to be under one banner. I was sent on skirmish after skirmish, land wars that meant nothing except for the poor bastards that ended up on the wrong side of a blade they couldn't have possibly deserved." Mayer's eyes closed as he saw far too many men, their faces garbled and smudged in his memory, but small features still returned to him. The chill that they caused him to experience transferred across my empathic link well enough for me to know just how deeply he regretted those days.

"Before long, I found myself in a world that I didn't recognize anymore. People I was detached from, no friends except those young enough to be great, great grandchildren, none of them remembering the war that reformed the world itself. All pushed aside in the name of moving forward." He turned to me, a dry amusement on his face.

"So, like a disenfranchised teenager, I ran away as far as I could and found myself here with far, far too much time to think for my own good." We shared a mutual chuckle at that. He didn't need to recount the rest.

He had come to the decision to leave Hindle to someone else, or not at all if necessary. He didn't have it in him anymore to fight wars that were so far removed from himself. He was a man stuck in a strange grey area where the world he lived in wasn't really his own anymore.

I'm sure I could argue all day with the man, to try to convince him that he could regain his connection to the world once more, but that'd be naïve and, frankly, insensitive. The only other frame for reverence that I had for those that had lived a long time was Keeper Armament, and he hardly seemed like he was connected to the world.

We let the silence reign for a while, but eventually I left. There wasn't much else to talk about really. The man had made his decision and deserved to have at least some peace and quiet while he was recovering from a phantom stab to the gut.

I wasn't sure what else I'd do that day, aside from training, until I walked out Mayer's front door and almost walked straight into Rethi. Managing to stop myself from pushing the boy over by grasping onto his shoulders, I took a step back from the boy.

"Morning Rethi." I said with a smile, "Come to see the old man himself?"

"Ah, not quite. I already talked to him last night before I went to bed." He said, scratching the back of his head, "I was actually here to talk to you…"

I quirked an eyebrow as the boy trailed off. Quickly, I delved into Rethi's emotional state and found myself very worried, very fast. Without making any fanfare of it, I nodded and started walking in towards the centre of town, where Rethi had come from.

"Let's talk as we walk, shall we?" Rethi nodded taciturnly, though the sad expression on his face was anything but the stoic façade that he'd been trying to emulate from Mayer for months now.

"We are leaving soon, aren't we?" he asked softly, and I nodded affirmatively. He sighed heavily.

"What am I going to do about my mum? I can't just leave her here." There was a note of iron will in his voice. He wouldn't budge on this, I had to find a way to fix this before we left or Rethi either wouldn't leave, or would be very, very angry with me.

Admittedly, I'd been rather hands off when it came to his mother. Rethi had told me bits and pieces of what was happening with her, and all of it was bad news. She was dying, and fast. Six months ago she could barely walk, now she was far worse, losing memory and sleeping most days all the way through. Her caretaker, Arren Smithe, knew the signs from her husband's progression. She was going to die in a few months, at most.

I let my brain speed into a frenzy, trying to come up with something. Rethi looked at me, a sort of questioning hope as I let my brow furrow into a look of consternation.

"Ah." I said as a possible idea came to mind. Rethi's eyes widened as he saw the grin widen on my face. "I have a plan."

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 55: Chances

Being alone with Rethi was surprisingly unusual.

Most of the time we were accompanied by Mayer, being taught or fighting half to death. But now? We were simply walking someplace, a goal in mind, yes, but a more casual encounter than the intense training and focus we displayed just yesterday.

In fact, I realised I hadn't had a heart to heart with the boy for a good long time, and aside for the trip to the forests our time together, alone, has been filled with a mostly companionable silence with no real conversation of substance.

Now, I was starting to realise that I had been neglecting a prominent emotion in the boy's life. Worry. Worry for his mother, for her future without him, and for a world where he can't afford to help her against the mothers, fathers, daughters and sons of thousands more than just his own.

I sighed as we drew closer to Michael Gram's home. This was going to be an interesting conversation and I was realising that the boy wasn't truly prepared for it, not yet. There was only so much that could be achieved by dragging someone else along on your adventures, like I had unceremoniously done to Rethi, and though he has managed to find his place into being the successor of a divine blade, he was not guaranteed that, by any stretch of the imagination.

"Rethi, let's talk for a moment before we go in." I said quietly, turning into a side path and down behind the row of shops that lined the main through road in the town. Out the back was a severe lack of homes and more than enough space to sit in a patch of grass.

I sat in the grass out the back of Michael Gram's house and shop, and patter the grass next to me, prompting the boy to sit.

As Rethi sat down next to me, I could feel a slight warmth radiating from the boy. His skin had begun to look sun-kissed, instead of it's usual only slightly tanned colour, his dark hair almost inheriting a shine, and I was sure that the hair would be warm, like black hair under the sun. The boy seemed to either not take notice of the changes in his body, or he didn't care.

"How is your mother, Rethi." I asked, keeping my voice low rather than it's usual boisterous loudness. I could feel the boy's mood darken further.

"Not well. Even so, she won't let me see her. I…" He swallowed against a particularly unpleasant memory, "I tried to force my way in once, but it didn't go well." I nodded gently.

"Rethi, we are going to leave, likely in a matter of a week or two. WE have stayed in this small town for far too long, maybe it was my own fear of facing what was out there that stopped me from leaving earlier, but now we have to wrap everything we have up here, and leave for a world outside." The boy's emotions turned into a troubled mess as I spoke, though he didn't vocalize any of those emotions. "Speak, Rethi." I commanded lightly. I needed him to speak to me, at least a little.

"I… I've spent my whole life here, but even so, I have only one thing I need to wrap up." He said, his conviction growing slightly. "My mother is sick and dying, and she won't even let me see her, and there is nothing I can do."

"Of course you can't." I said, plainly. Rethi looked back at me with sad eyes, a disappointment rushing through him, even though he'd said the words.

"That, Rethi, is why we have friends." He barked out a dry laugh.

"Rethi, your girlfriend is a practically preordained to be a master healer like the world has never seen before. I will make sure with all my power that it happens." I said a small smile growing on my face, despite the plummeting morale of the boy in front of me.

"But that doesn't help me now." He growled, almost yelling. I sighed deeply.

"You're right, it doesn't help you right this second. But it will soon. Very soon in fact." He turned to me, a barely concealed anger hidden behind a questioning eyebrow. "I do have a plan, one that I think could really, actually work. One that could possibly save your mother, at least for now."

"What is it? You know that Alena can't heal my mother, right?" Rethi's anger melted away, leaving behind a mix of excitement and worry. An overwhelming sense of worry.

"She can't at the moment." I prefaced, and then sighed when the boy drew a blank, "Rethi, you have to understand that we are going to have to convince two people that will object to this extremely hard." Rethi furrowed his brow.

"What are you going to do, exactly?" He asked again, drawing out the words cautiously. However, before I could respond I heard the sound of a wooden door clacking against it's frame from behind me, causing Rethi to turn away from me.

"Well, what perfect timing Alena, I guess we will be all learning together." I said jovially, almost dreading the next few minutes.

"Okay… what's going on, exactly?" Alena said, concerned.

"Max has a way to help my mother!" Rethi blurted, and I cringed heavily, my eyes scrunching together. Sometimes I forget that Rethi is still really young, only just a teenager and excitable.

"Max. What exactly does this plan involve?" She asked dangerously. Who could have guessed that a young girl could be so terrifying. I turned around to her, an apologetic smile already on her face.

"No. Absolutely not." Her voice was hard and brittle.

"Wait, what?" Rethi said now baffled.

"You cannot make me do that!" She yelled at me, but I looked her dead in the eyes.

"So you will just leave her to die?" I intoned darkly. She froze, and Rethi's eyes bounced between the two of us, not sure whose side he should be on.

"You think I should just take the chance? Roll the dice with her life? You sicken me!" Her voice was dangerously close to screaming, and she turned heel and walked away.

"Woah, woah. What just happened." Rethi said, shock flooding through him, his mind desperately backpedalling, trying to keep up. I laughed humourlessly.

"I just asked your girlfriend to do something that I knew that she'd be against." I grimaced at Rethi's look.

"Your whole plan was to ask her to just... heal my mother?" I rolled my eyes at his disbelieving look.

"Of course not. But it won't matter how much I try, she will see it that way. I need you to help me convince her of my plan." He scrunched his eyes up in frustration.

"What is the plan!" He yelled, frustrated at being left out of my plan. I decided to take pity on the poor boy, and with a grin I began to explain my plan.

"I'm going to intentionally infect myself with Rhy disease."




Now, I'm sure you could hazard a guess as to how Rethi took that last statement. A mixture of surprise, disbelief, calling me a fool, and once I had explained my reasoning, grudging compliance.

The boy had stumbled into the house to convince his girlfriend two hours ago, confused and not entirely sure how to feel about my proposition. But more than anything I saw that he was determined. He knew that this was probably the only chance that she had, outside of a fairly powerful nature shifter randomly coming to town.

Not that I'd be against that happening, but I think we've had enough surprise visitors to last a lifetime. A two literal Gods and a many thousand-year-old Keeper. An interesting track record so far.

Behind me the flimsy wooden door flew open, slamming against the outside wall of the house, and making a mighty cracking sound as it rebounded back into its frame. I turned my face to see an incredibly angry Alena stomp across the grass, right up into my face, and winding back her open palm and slapping me right across the face.

There was obviously no effect, but it still surprised me. She was fuming, face red and what had to be the remnants of tears staining her cheeks.

"You think you can guilt me into healing her? You know the risks, I could turn her into a walking, breathing tumour by mistake!" she growled, barely holding back a wave of tears.

I furrowed my brow. I had expected her to be angry at me, but not also so incredibly hurt. It was a different hurt, old and healed over, but cut anew. I sighed.

"I intend to get you to the point where the risk is acceptable."

"Acceptable? You're saying you think that any level of risk of me turning Rethi's mother into a brainless monstrosity?" I looked at her, seeing past the rage and hurt, past the roiling emotions and seeing the bottom of the lake, the emotion that the water settled on. Fear.

"Alena." I said, a calm overtaking me, "what is her chance of survival?" There was silence for a while, before she opened her mouth, but I could see the acid dripping from her mind before she spoke.

"No, Alena. I do not want a snide remark. I want you to tell me; what are her chances?" There was no response this time, not a movement, though her emotions continued swirling.

"You're right," I said to the unspoken answer, "nothing. No chance at all. She will die, and there will be nothing that anyone can do about. Anyone, except you and I." I felt her emotions swell, anger sapping away and simply becoming fear.

"I can't. I can't do it." I shook my head.

"You can. And we are going to test it over and over until the chances of you failing are so low that you would have to be stupid to not try. Because if you are going to follow me and Rethi around the worlds, this is the price you'll have to pay, do you understand?" Stony faced, I looked at her, analysing her facial features.

She tried to school them into something that wasn't just pure fear, with a healthy dose of hate, what I'd expect when someone was forcing you into doing something you had been terrified of doing for her entire life up until not a few days ago.

"What if I can't? What if it's still too dangerous to heal Rethi's mother?" I let the question hang in the air for a long time, longer than it needed for me to consider it. I could answer it in any hundred different ways, but all of them simply sounded more manipulative than the last, and I was already manipulating the poor girl enough for my tastes. In fact, I was being the asshole here, blatantly manipulating her into a terrible situation. But I had no choice, the only other 'choice' being to let Rethi's mother simply die.

So, instead of a long and impassioned speech about how it wouldn't be her fault, or manipulating her with the death of Rethi's mother, I simply gave her a little, sad smile.

"Can you please get your father for me? I'd like to discuss some things with him, with you present." We stared at each other for a long moment, before she clenched her jaw and walked back inside to grab her father.

They re-emerged only a few moments later. Michael looked unhappy with me, decidedly angry in a way, but much calmer than his daughter.

"Maximilian." He said, his voice dark with emotion. I nodded back to him.

"I'm going to cut to the chase. I want you to infect me with Rhy disease as a test dummy for your daughter to learn how to combat, if not immunize against it." Michael's expression became even darker, though I could see a small light of excitement inside his mind, though it was overshadowed by the darkness of fear and protectiveness of his daughter.

"Why do you want to torture my daughter with this? You are trying to cure Rethi's mother, yes? What use is that, to put a young girl in the position to be the only hope, the only saviour? What if something went wrong? What if she dies because of a freak accident?" I could feel the father and daughter unite against me, but I shook my head sadly.

"Michael. When have you ever had that choice?" I sighed as he narrowed his eyes, "A man appears on your doorstep, bleeding from a knife wound. You know that he has to be treated in the next hour or he will bleed out and die. However, you also know that there is a likelihood that you doing what you have to do, without the correct tools, will kill the man just the same. What do you choose?"

"This isn't even remotely the same as that! I have training, experience, a lifetime of understanding and perspective. I have been working around the sick, dying and dead for decades! She is a child, barely considered a teenager and you want her to make a decision of this gravitas?" He yelled, truly enraged. When I had approached him not days earlier he had been angry, but this was a different level. I understood, I really did, but…

"How long will it be before she holds the hand of the dying, of someone she desperately wants to save, and she cannot? How long before she tries her best, and in the worst possible moment she accidentally creates an abomination? How long until the palace of glass that surrounds her inevitably shatters and there are no other chances?"

"If not now, when?"


A/N: Hey there guys, Sarius here.

So, this is a relatively big milestone! I've posted twenty new chapters, over three different stories no less. It's a pretty wild feat, in my opinion. It's something I've been working towards for months now, and I'm glad that I've finally delivered.

But that brings me to a little announcement. I'll be opening a Patreon where you could potentially gain advanced access to 30 chapters of each of my stories. At the highest tier, that's a total of 90 chapters covering all of my serialising stories. If the service were available right now, you'd be able to read Chapter 85 of Unwieldy and Chapter 50 of Fixture of Fate and Ribbon!

It's a pretty big deal, and it's not ready yet, but it will be soon. If you want to get in on this, I urge you towards my little discord server!

Hope you all have a great day, either way!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 56: Cold and Heavy

Once again I was in the field just outside of town, dancing feverishly with my hammer, forcing my body to push just that little bit harder than it had the time before.

Once, this had been a piece of serenity, a place for me to improve and understand more of myself, the earth blurring underneath my feet as I sought the words to propel myself further towards competency.

Now, though, it was anything but serene. Long had it been since the days that I'd be able to train without that gnawing feeling in my gut, the weight on my shoulders ever present. Once upon a time, I had read the stories of characters that would face up against impossible odds with a smile and a brave heart. They had inspired me in a visceral way, that never truly lasted long, but I could attribute those moments of inspiration to being catalysts for change in my former life.

However, thinking back upon those stories gave me a cold feeling inside. A detachment from what I had once idealised and, perhaps, even found relatable. Now, my mind wondered towards those characters. The ones who you'd swear ruined the book for you, if they weren't filled with so much truth.

There was a fine line, however, between a character who was dour because of their burden, and one who was actively whiney and insufferable underneath its weight. I felt myself, ever so slowly, becoming the first of the two. At least, in my own mind.

I could feel the magnitude of my life catch up with my psyche. A Demigod, a Champion, a saviour. That was who I modelled myself to be. Pretentiousness ignored, it was something of an impossible task, something that you may only believe heroes of legend capable of facing against. Heracles, Gilgamesh, and their ilk.

But me? As I turned into another step, straining my muscles to pull my hammer along with me, barely capable of moving it from the dirt, something inside of me recoiled.

It was the height of arrogance. I was a Demigod, but I was uncomfortable being told I was. I was a Champion, but the title left me with a distinct feeling of separation from its meaning. I was Rethi's 'Master' and yet, just beneath the surface, I wished that he would one day find that I was nothing special. Nothing worthy of note.

Maybe I had claim to being slightly more charismatic than the average person, capable of somehow succeeding in difficult social situations. But maybe I could attribute that to my pseudo Soul-Seeker status. Empathy was so ingrained in my being now that I could feel the emotions around me as if they were my own.

I knew how others felt about me. I could now feel the adoration of Rethi, the conflicted hope of Mayer, the scathing frustration of Alena. I could feel the fear, wonderment and intrigue of those that I passed in the streets of this small town.

But it created a conflict inside me. I wasn't how people viewed me. I had seen this argument happen with those that were famous back on Earth. They had achieved their fame, and their image impressed itself upon millions, and yet they weren't quite the way they seemed in interviews and on television.

I wasn't a celebrity, by any stretch of the imagination, but I could feel how others responded to me. I had begun to understand the isolation the famous must have felt, the adoration of a person that you aren't sure exists.

It was just another weight on my shoulders. I had so many weights now. So many expectations to be held to that I could feel them slowly burdening me further.

As I completed my last round of a new abridged kata, focussed on training to use my even heavier hammer, I pulled the Soul Weapon back into me and started walking back towards town.

That was the one thing that was keeping me from crumbling underneath the weight of it all. A direction, a purpose. What was a greater purpose than to save an untold number of lives? But I could still feel it weighing on me, and I could only predict that it'd grow.

However, as I did most days, I shook off the cloud that hung over my mind, forcing just far enough away from my thoughts that I could operate. Today I had a very important task, something that had been months in the making.

I was going to confront Rethi's mother, Shae Orsen.

I hummed a structureless melody as I travelled expediently down the worn and decrepit paths towards the ruined section of town. It was all I could do to stop myself from overthinking the conversation that was bound to happen.

It only took me a few minutes to get to the Orsen Household. Surprisingly, it was in a far better condition than what it had been earlier in the year. Some of the entrance had been replaced with a mismatching wood and had clearly been cleaned semi-recently.

I walked to the door and gave it a gentle knock. The wait was rather short, as soon after a confused looking woman swung the door open. She was surprisingly tall, easily able to look me in the face with little need to look upwards.

"Ah, Mrs Smithe. It's a pleasure to meet you again. Good to see you in such good health." I smiled, genuinely, holding out my hand to be shaken. Past our original meeting where Rethi and I had convinced her to be Shae's caretaker, I had never seen the woman again.

She looked… healthier. The first thing that I really noticed was a lack of the borderline miasmic smell that had surrounded her when we had first met. She smelt softly of flowers now, and her clothing was significantly improved. Knowing the amount of money that Rethi was paying her, it was no surprise that she was able to afford nice things. Her formerly sallow cheeks and scrawny figure was now filled with ample muscle and fat, forming her into a strikingly pretty woman, especially with her sharp blue eyes peeking out from beneath maintained, silky brown hair.

"Master… Avenforth?" She questioned as she grabbed my hand and shook it gently. I nodded, mostly to affirm that she remembered my name right.

"I have come to talk to Mrs Orsen." The woman's face drew into a pained grimace as she pulled away from the door to look back inside, shutting the door ever so slightly to obscure my view of the inside room. I waited patiently for the hushed, but clearly heated conversation to conclude, and the door opened to reveal an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Master Avenforth. Shae cannot see you; she is quite unwell." She explained, but I could feel that it was a lie. Well, not a lie in that Shae was feeling unwell, but that she could not see me at all. I gave my own apologetic expression to the woman.

"I understand, Mrs Smithe, but you must understand that I cannot take no for an answer." There was a real sorrow in those words for me. I didn't like giving people ultimatums, and I seemed to be doing more and more of it recently. The woman swallowed gently and nodded.

I don't know if it was a perceived promise of violence or maybe the loss of income that prompted her to open the door for me and usher me inside the quaint little house, but at least she didn't feel any true fear from me.

"What are you doing?" Shae hissed venomously at her caretaker. Shae Orsen was sitting in a well-made lounging chair, one that was old and used but still seemed comfortable nonetheless. I could only imagine that it had come from Arren Smithe's home, especially since Shae herself was obstinate to not take money from Rethi, other than in the form of care. Maybe it was enough of a difference in her life to take the blow to her honour.

Shae had not followed the same trend as her caretaker, becoming all but skin and bones now. She had a constant glisten of sweat on her skin, the pallid colour of it almost making me feel ill by proxy. Her dark hair hung limply and without vitality. At least she seemed well taken care of under Mrs Smithe's supervision.

"There is no need to implicate your carer, Mrs Orsen. I have come here and would not have left without speaking with you no matter how vehemently she had told me to leave." Something I had suspected far more of. Shae herself seemed willing to make up for that fact.

"You expect me to let me you walk into my home and have your way? Like you did with my beggar son?" She spat.

I let any humour or warmness drop from my face, leaving behind a cold, sad mask. I sighed deeply as I sat down in another chair, similar to the one Shae herself sat in. Then I raised my eyes to hers and stared.

I could feel the social temperature in the room drop to freezing, my eyes locking onto Shae's with an iron-clad gaze. I could see straight into her. Her emotions were a wild storm of hurt, self-loathing, hate and pride. I could feel the would on her that Rethi had created by becoming a 'beggar', the armour of her pride in never having asked for anything, yet still surviving despite her hardship, stripped away to reveal the tender flesh beneath.

Each and every day the woman stabbed deeper into that hate in a duality of loathing and hate. Hate at the boy that would violate her pride so deeply, despite knowing that she would rather starve to death than have it stripped from her. And the loathing of the very same woman that inexplicably pushed her son far enough into depravity that he'd have to sell his pride for any money that he could, to steal morsels to eat at all.

I knew, as I looked at the woman, that she was hardly evil. Unreasonable, aggravating, malicious, sure. Evil, no. In fact, in that mess of emotions I could follow every one of them back down to the very root of it all. Failure.

"Mrs Orsen," I said, my voice so cold that it even surprised me, "I came here today for a very simple reason. I believe that I can cure you of your Rhy disease." There was a momentary shock, before a viscous snarl made its way onto her face.

"Hah," she sneered, "I'd bet. I'd also bet that you intended to enslave me just like you did my son. Corrupt our pride with the money you so willingly hand out, violate us for all we are worth."

This was it. The ugliness of pride. I had seen it fester inside of Alena, even still. Rethi had long since discarded his pride, willing to take any opportunity. But now I was beginning to realise just how fine a line I had walked on that first encounter, where I had left them with more money that hey considered warranted. I had used my foreign origins as leverage, then. But now I hardly cared to entertain the woman with anything as elaborate.

It was in that moment that I felt the cold and dark fall over my mind once again, the horrible weight of expectation and anxiety. My face pulled into a deep frown, one set in stone. Shae and Arren watched on as I morphed from my generally amiable self, to a cold mask, all the way to a deep displeasure.

That was when the power inside of me resonated, a deep thrum undulating forth from my body like a wave. It was nothing impressive, no massive amount of force, but it was important. It was divine. Unmistakable and unequivocal.

The two women had never felt divinity before, but as soon as it touched them, they knew. They were sure beyond words.

"You're…" Mrs Smithe began, but stopped short of saying the words. I didn't acknowledge it, for the truth was plainly obvious. My eyes locked with those of Shae Orsen's again. My eyes found the woman's emotions in disarray, shaken to their very core. She believed that she understood me and my 'game', my corrupting essence. But now she sat in front of a true figure of Divinity, regardless of my half-Godhood.

"I am disappointed, Shae Orsen." The words left my chest just as softly as they normally did, but they were infused with something more. A power similar to the oath that I had made only days ago with Alena's father.

"I did not expect much from your reaction. Maybe at best, a begrudging interest or—more hopefully a cooperative spirit. But you have a mind poisoned by a pride that has now foothold." I paused to continue to search the woman, so filled with a strange mixture of awe and fear that it almost made me grimace. "So," I continued, "I want you to think very carefully of what you say next."

The silence in the room, the biting cold of fear, was almost painful. The Hearth inside quivered in displeasure, but it knew that sometimes a conversation must take place inside a dark, cold room with no warmth in sight.

"I–" She began, but her voice failed her, body quivering under the shock of the conversation. "Why?"

The question was simple, but it was exactly what I was looking for. It was a question with no pretence, no venom or hate to accompany. It was merely an open question. However, the cold that I had found myself enveloped in, didn't lift so easily.

"Because of your son." I said quietly, but the words made it to their ears nonetheless, "He is something more now. A warrior Divine. He will one day be among the strongest to ever have lived." The words kindled something deep inside of Shae's heart, but I pressed on.

"And yet, before the inevitable day come that he will leave this small nowhere-place to become something far more, he worries for his sick mother." My mask of displeasure eased into one of mere stone. Not so much dispassion, but judgement. I was the arbiter now, and she knew. She knew that if she had simply entertained me—been anything other than the venomous, prideful apparition of a woman—that I would have helped her with nothing short of a herculean effort.

Now, I was putting the onus on her. I was asking her to prove herself to me. There was never any need for this with Rethi, nor will there likely be much for Alena. But Shae—Rethi's mother or not—had lost a suitable amount of rapport with me. Her disdain for her child, regardless of how projected it was from her own self-loathing, fuelled my own domain with enough distaste that it'd willingly accepted becoming cold, rather than warm, embracing its own antithesis.

"Why?" She said again, her eyes breaking from mine, filled with tears. She knew that she was broken, deep inside. But only now did she come to understand just how destroyed she was. The sickness had taken a toll on her that had shattered her very being, her image as an independent person. She had, by proxy, become a beggar—the very antithesis of her own character, her own pride. And now, as she stared at the floor, droplets falling from her eyes in a display of pure emotional vulnerability, I could smile.

The warmth in the room returned, a feeling of exultation consumed me as my domain sung with it's own pride and I couldn't help but grin with it's chorus of glee. As the warmth returned, and the weight and cold was dismissed, I let the Hearth sing through me.

"Because he was always something more. Because, despite a fate that pulls him towards something more every moment of every day, he obstinately stands against the tide." I paused as the sheer emotion of it all overwhelmed me, letting a single, glowing tear leak from my eye—burning with the soft light of a campfire, battling against the cold of the world.

"Because he loves you."

And that was all it took to bring the woman's armour of pride that had long since cut into her skin, embedding itself into her flesh—clattering to the ground with a mournful, excruciating wail.

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 57: Test One

After the emotions had simmered down, the plan had been revealed.

It was simple. All I needed from Shae was a sample of her blood. Admittedly, it had been difficult to get everyone that was required to make this work on board. Convincing Michael that, yes, injecting me with the fatal disease was a good idea was what I wanted was an interesting conversation.

No-one, aside from maybe Rethi and Mayer knew the extent of my abilities, and even then it wasn't entirely clear. I hadn't necessarily gone out of my way to make Mayer or Rethi aware of precisely how good my regeneration was, mostly because they had ample time to stab me and figure out that way.

Instinctively I knew things about my body, what it could and couldn't regenerate from. It was the main reason that I had allowed Alena to play around in my brain. I logically knew that it wouldn't kill me, even if she had disintegrated my brain, though letting her actually do it was something else entirely. It was the one of the few times that I had sweated from nervousness since, well… becoming a Demigod, I guess. Maybe even before that.

That is to say, I know that Rhy disease had about the same likelihood of killing me that Rethi had my jamming a butter knife through my heart.

I'm almost entirely certain I couldn't be killed by mortal means at all. Which was an interesting idea to sit on, certainly made me more paranoid about shifting and people with access to divinity.

Anyway, the plan is simple, all things considered. I was going to treat myself as a dummy patient, who would be injected with the disease and let it grow inside of me. Obviously it was a little more complicated than that, with me being effectively immune to disease.

However, I had made myself stop healing more than once before and I have a sneaking suspicion that it'd effect my power from 'cleaning' my body. It was made more complicated even then because, as I was so kindly informed by the elder Gram, ether naturally did a similar thing as my body already naturally did. I assumed that this also applied to divine power.

So, to be able to play the part of the dummy patient, I'd need to shut of my body's own regeneration, not shift any ether at all, and close myself off to divine power. Which is a whole lot harder than it sounds, seeing a significant portion of my being houses my divine power, and me walking or moving shifts ether due to the Sharah.

So here I was, laying completely still on a bed inside surgery room in Gram's Apothecary, letting the disease that had been injected run rampant.

It was an interesting experience for sure, my awareness of my physical state was much better than I had thought so I could actually perceive what the disease was doing inside of me. Its modus operandi at the moment seemed to be reproduction, and insanely quickly. I'm not sure if it was only because I was the perfectly immunocompromised target, but it was spreading like wildfire.

Gram had told me it was going to take at least a week for it to propagate throughout my body to where Alena could sense it. I was starting to seriously doubt that. The entire experience was mightily uncomfortable, feeling it spread through me and start to insidiously leech into organs.

I wasn't knowledgeable enough to understand what was actually being done to me, but it was targeting organs and slowing everything down. It had only been two days, but I could see how Shae was in such a bad way now. It'd slow everything down to the point where organs started to die, especially with it preferring the intestines, probably making it difficult for the body to get vital nutrients and necessary components to keep the body well enough to continue fighting the disease.

It was lucky that, underneath all of the regeneration and various sources of power, I was still basically human with physiology to match. Though I probably wasn't a good representative case of anything, I could be tested on with little to no harm.

"Alena! Michael!" I called, feeling a subdued wave of ether wash over me, ever so slightly for daring to move at all. It was surprising just how pervasive the Sharah had become in my movements. I'm not even sure how talking would be considered part of the Sharah, but it's be the breathing and the diaphragm if I had to place a guess.

Following my call there was a short silence before a rapid thumping of feet trailed down the steps from the Gram's living area, down the hall to the door of the surgery room, which promptly swung wide open.

"Master Max!" Alena said, worry laden in her voice. For some reason they were still worried about my health, even after all my convincing.

"What's wrong?" Michael said, his voice a great deal calmer, assuming the medical physician role that he was accustomed to, ready to face whatever came his way.

I kept quiet for a moment, trying to figure out a concise sentence. I didn't want to monologue and have wasted all this time, just to hear myself talk.

"Check condition." I said, settling on a commanding tone towards the doctor. He didn't even bother asking for specifics, and got to work checking temperatures, heartrates and a battery of tests I wasn't strictly familiar with but seemed to confuse the older doctor with their results.

"What is it?" Alena called, straining to see over her father's shoulder as he worked, the top of her unruly dark hair bobbing up and down.

"He has a significant fever already, his heartrate is high…" Michael mumbled more to his daughter, thought I didn't bother to listen in too hard.

"Alena." I said, breaking to two from their discussion. I knew that it was progressing fast, which just means that I want to waste less time sitting around and doing nothing. Alena looked to me questioningly, her father doing the same. I examined myself for a moment, then looked back to her, face full of stoic commandment.

"Wait… already?" She asked, clamming up in an instant as she realised what I was asking from her. Michael didn't do much better, placing a hand on her shoulder, maybe in support or just out of reflex, to show that he was there at all.

Alena continued to be the largest hurdle in all of this. She was resistant to use her shifting on even me, let alone with the future promise of using it on a person who couldn't heal from anything.

I kept my gaze on her, silent and patient. Turns out that I didn't need divine powers to make the room go quiet. It took her minutes to acknowledge what she had to do, and at least another before she dared to place a hand on my arm.

I could feel her own energy wash through me in that moment. It wasn't an energy capable of searing the disease from my body like my own powers would, it was a diagnostic power. It gave her an understanding of my condition and an image in her mind, of sorts.

I wouldn't be able to tell if it was as comprehensive as some of the scans that were available on Earth, but it seemed to give Alena what she was looking for. She took her hand off of my arm and stared at me in the face, the worry and anxiety being pushed to the very back of her mind, replaced with a facsimile of her father's own guise.

"Are you sure you want me to do this? I… I can't predict what will happen." I didn't respond. She hadn't asked for me or my comfort, but for her own. After a moment she grimaced and turned to her father.

"Test one; altering the disease itself." Her father nodded at her and pulled out his own notepad with a rudimentary pencil, poised to take notes. Then she reached out and gripped my arm.

Everything changed in that moment. I could feel the effects of what she was doing to the disease instantaneously. The symptoms that I was experiencing went from minor to extreme in mere moments, I could feel the disease reproducing so quickly that I'd swear that it was going to overtake my body.

However, I waited. I could feel the inside of my body being torn apart, the veins and organs being destroyed at the hands of the rapidly reproducing virus, the diseased cells working at a breakneck pace to destroy me.

I gave it five minutes of exponential growth before I called it. Alena couldn't stop herself once she was locked into a path. Maybe with experience she would be able to shift courses in the middle of a treatment, but all I could do was to break the cycle.

I let loose a stream of divine power from my soul, the Hearth domain within me sighing in relief, having been itching to sooth the ills of those that sat around its fire. Namely me, in this case. It couldn't very well have the holder if its flame be made uncomfortable by sickness, now could it?

The gentle flame washed through my body, eradicating the disease in its entirety, healing my damaged organs while it passed through. I could feel the jolt of surprise as Alena was forcibly booted from the depths of her focus.

"You did well, though I decided that I couldn't let the disease live, in the off chance that it somehow spread." I said softly. I knew that Rhy disease was only transferable by blood, or a few other bodily fluids, but I couldn't allow the risk of a disease that deadly.

"I–" I held up a hand to the dark-haired teen, who was still clutching my arm, and looked deep into her eyes, filled to the brim with tears. Her dark hair obscuring her face slightly.

"We talked about this. I am not expecting you to succeed the first try." I paused, trying to give the words as much significance as I could, "You cannot significantly hurt me, Alena."

"I know I can't!" She said, almost snarling the words out, "Even still, it's terrifying to do that. In a moment I created a disease that would kill someone in a matter of days, a whole town could die to that disease! How is that not terrifying?"

"Am I terrifying to you, Alena?" I asked calmly, keeping myself restrained from launching into a whole song and dance.

"Well, sort of?"

"You don't seem very sure about that." I said smiling.

"Well, you can do scary things… regenerate from anything, fighting. That's all terrifying..." She paused, looking to me to try and glean what I wanted from her answer, but found nothing. She lifted her hand from my arm and wiped frustratedly at her cheeks "But–"

"But what, Alena?" I said, breaking the girl from her response.

"I don't know!" She said, frustration worming into her voice. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. I looked to him and, though he looked pained, he chose not to speak to her merit.

"There are no buts, Alena. You say you could kill a town with that disease?" I asked rhetorically, "I could easily do the same with my fists. I could walk around town and kill each and every individual in or near town in the span of maybe a few hours."

"But you wouldn't…" She replied, hesitantly. Maybe a little apprehension in the mix there. That stung a little.

"Of course," I agreed, "no more than you would intentionally release a deadly disease into a town for no reason." I grinned at the young girl as she positively fumed.

"An ability as dangerous as the one you possess should be treated with care, yes. But to let it rot with the fear of what damage it might cause is foolish." I didn't bother engaging with the girl further, despite her desperately trying to continue the conversation. It'd only spiral into an endless argument.

I said what I needed to say, and the next time I suspect I'd have to say it again. I motioned for Michael Gram to restart the process once again, leaving the teenage girl to storm out of the surgery room, slamming the door behind her in a flurry of dark hair and stark white clothing.

The room was quiet as Michael Gram prepared a portion of the blood sample from Shae. The injection, though the syringe used was a monster of a thing, was relatively painless all things considered.

My inaction was extremely important in the beginning, as any movement or leak of divine energy could easily burn the extremely small sample of the disease from my body, and that was when Gram decided to speak.

"I understand why you push my daughter like this." He said calmy, tucking away the notepad he had used in his pocket, "I can see the potential, just as well as any other doctor could. With even your rudimentary understanding of the possibilities, it's clear as day." He looked away from me for a moment, searching the plain walls of the room for an answer. After a long moment of contemplative silence, the man stood and walked towards the firmly shut door. His already slight frame looked worn and weary.

"I just wish that Alena didn't have to be the one to bring those possibilities to life." He whispered morosely and left the room.

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 58: Villainous Hand

It wasn't the gnawing anxiety inside of her that annoyed. In fact, the insidious pain was almost a reassurance. It soothed her, counter-intuitively, the impending doom, fear and—above all else—the self-doubt worked together to reassure her of what she already knew.

That she wasn't good enough. That, while it might be possible, it wasn't possible for her. That she was destined to fail and disappoint, to create a monster and, by doing so, become one herself.

No, what annoyed her wasn't the pain and suffering. It was the shaking of her hand.

No matter how still she tried to hold it, it still shook, her muscles weak from her sleeplessness and constantly clenching. As she sat at the edge of her bed, staring down at her hand, watching it tremble.

She grabbed her wrist with her other hand, looping her fingers all the way around her skinny wrist, and tightened her grip. She snarled with the pain, her face morphing into something between suffering and contempt. She couldn't let it shake, couldn't show just how terrified she was. She couldn't.

It wasn't long before the already pale skin begun to go splotchy, the pain increasing the more the discolouration spread and deepened in colour. Soon, the pain became unbearable, and Alena was forced to release the hand, driven by self-preservation.

For a moment, the hand was still as the warmth of blood trickled back into the starved hand. However, not a few seconds after the hand returned to a comfortable pale crème did the trembling return. A mixture of frustration and sadness rushed through her, the traitorous hand shaking despite the girl's protest.

She slumped forward, pulling the arm into herself, cradling her trembling limb into herself.

It had been weeks. The man in in her father's surgery room was unrelenting and inexhaustible. Each of her failures only began the next test. How many times had she pleaded with the man to stop? Ten times at least. Preparing for each test took one-and-a-half to two days, letting the Rhy virus natural propagate through his system, before she inevitably failed, only for the man to order her father to begin the process once again.

Initially she had been frustrated, feeling herself be manipulated into the situation of her nightmares, forced to use the very same power she'd sworn to her father that she'd hide.

How many times had she sworn to her father that this was the last time? That it wouldn't happen again, that he didn't need to worry? It was a lie, even if she was being honest. It wasn't so easy. All it took was a touch and a strong will to help for the power lurking inside to jump out, sinking its teeth into her unsuspecting subject.

A small rabbit, a domesticated dog, a horse, a young boy.

Each and every time had risen suspicion, forcing her and her father to make a retreat into the night, fleeing from any possibility of word spreading to the ears of those with power and a healthy fear of the Abomination Makers.

Every time she had cried to her father, the shame and terror instilled within her mind, each and every one of those memories as clear as the day they happened. A constant reminder of the endless repetition of her failure.

Time after time she had clamped down on that thing within her. The writhing being had thrashed against her grip for years, begging to be used, but as the years passed, the writhing thing had grown still and quiet. At moments it would lift its head from the ground, the heavy chains resisting the movement, but it would always lay its head back down, resigned to its fate.

Slowly the being inside of her grew smaller and smaller, its strength atrophying, wasting away, controllable. Just how she liked it. The weak, resentful thing inside her, unable to hurt her or her father anymore.

Never again.

What a fool she was. Thinking that she had won against it, that it was content to never be seen or heard of again.

She could remember it clearly, as she watched her boyfriend cut into the tall man she hated, the flesh of his hand tearing before her eyes, the blood trickling from the already healing wound. The sight was miraculous beyond words, something she had dreamed of as a young girl.

The being inside woke from its submission and roared. The moment of rapture was so intense, so magnificent, that she could barely perceive her voice leaving her chest, revealing her deeply hidden truth, the secret she had held so furiously.

Every moment since, the thing was screaming, snarling… gloating. It had shattered its chains, growing from its small, emaciated form, into the raging being it had been oh so many years ago. The same being that her mother had tried so hard to tame within her, before she had died.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" She had asked as a little girl. Her mother had tried to smile, her beautiful, sun-kissed features were stuck in a grimace.

"It's okay, bub," she had said as she stood over the writhing corpse of a rapidly mutating rabbit, the flesh bubbling into tumours and alternate limbs, "We will just have to go on another adventure, okay?"

"Aww, but I don't want to! I don't want to leave Gemma!" She had cried then, unaware of just how much danger she had put her and her family in.

No amount of protesting had stopped her family leaving that little town, the being inside her had reared its head, and her life would be forever changed, despite the efforts of her mother and father.

The moment the cat had leapt out of the bag that day, Alena had realised something was very different about Maximilian Avenforth.

Instead of the disgust, the horror and the fear she had expected, Maximilian had barely flinched. Hardly a thought for the sinister nature of her powers, of the terrifying context the name 'Abomination Maker' was steeped in.

And then he had cut into the flesh of his arm and told her to heal it. She had tried to resist against reaching her hand out and touching that arm. She knew what would happen when she did. Even just staring at the wound, the thing inside of her had been screaming, her mind had ached from just how powerful it had been.

From the moment that she had touched Maximilian Avenforth's flesh, she knew that she had been enthralled. The power within her howled with glee, exalting in manipulating the flesh she touched, making it balloon with excess flesh, the cells multiplying and mutating at a speed far past something her mind could process.

It was then that he had cut his own arm off, her failure falling to the ground and continued to mutate until it was little more than a ball of dead flesh.

She had failed, yet he told her to try again, over and over. Smaller things at first, then larger and larger, then the brain.

Then the virus.

She sighed, only just preventing the sob she'd been holding from leaving her lips. The virus, the tests, were why she sat at the end of her bed today, shaking with the anxiety and the fear of yet another failure. One was due for tonight.

She had confronted the being inside her so many times now, desperately trying to control it as it ran rampant towards the diseased cells. She tried—

"Alena."

The clear voice made her jump, her system shocked into a frenzy. Her heartrate flew through the roof, blood coursing through the small veins in her ears like a rushing river. She so desperately wanted to stay seated there, refuse to help the man that laid in that surgery room, even if it came at the cost of her boyfriend's affection.

But she couldn't. The thing inside her was too strong. She stood shakily, as if a marionette in the hands of an inexperienced puppeteer. She stumbled out of her room, through the living room, and down the steps to that door.

She swallowed hesitantly as she pried open that door as if it were delicate porcelain. Inside the clean room laid the man himself and her father, his tired eyes peaking from behind his circular glasses, a soft expression of sadness.

She tried to hold her father's gaze but, as she stood halted in the middle of the room, door swinging closed behind her, she could feel his gaze boring into her very essence. She jolted, turning her eyes to the man who sat there, sick but so very powerful.

Her hand began to shake harder now, but it wasn't from the nerves, or the anxiety that had plagued her for weeks. No, it was in anticipation. She felt herself practically leap forward, sitting in the chair at his bedside and reached out to touch the man with the villainous hand—without so much as a confirmatory word.

She had pleaded for too long, asking time after time to soothe her own conscious, trying to protect herself from her own mentality. But no longer. No longer will she bow to appease her own mind, forcing herself to live with the anxiety, letting it morph her personality into a bitter, angry shell of a person.

No longer.

The thing inside rushed forwards with undisguised glee, bursting into Maximilian's body with a power she couldn't possibly have produced before. She could feel the exaltation as the thing spread over the man's body, accounting for each and every cell, mapping each vein, comprehending every link in the mind. Her mind exploded with the magnitude of the information she suddenly possessed.

A map of the body that put every literary description, every diagram, every carefully constructed art piece to shame. She saw it in its totality, how one simple electrical signal in the brain created a wonderful tapestry of actions and reactions across the body in such complexity that she would never be able to write it, never be able to express it.

She knew, in that moment, that it was something that would remain forever within her brain, clear and precise.

But, as the thing from within her came to complete its adventure around the Maximilian's body, she knew what would happen next. She could feel her heart leap into her throat as the power she had restricted for so long came to rest just underneath the skin she touched with that hand of hers.

She felt the power shudder, yet she could only close shy away from the havoc that would be wrought, preparing for the corruption it would seed amongst the body's delicate machinery…

Yet, the power laid still, underneath her fingertips.

She checked again, finding the energy merely sitting stagnant, its enormous potential for destruction unrealised. Her eyebrows scrunched as she ventured—tentatively—to inspect the power. She found, instead of the rampaging spawn of horrors, a quiet and docile thing.

Flabbergasted, she checked over and over, disbelief filling her before a new emotion took precedence.

Realisation, a pure enlightenment of understanding. In that moment of crystal clarity, her mind took each and every moment that the thing had rebelled inside of her, desperate for a chance to destroy everything that her and her family had built, and recontextualized it.

"Why mummy? Why does it want to hurt me?" Words she had spoken so many years ago sprouted from her mind. She remembered her mother's face, beautiful and kind, overcome with sadness in an intensity she should barely fathom back then. But now…

"It doesn't want to hurt you, bub. It just wants to help."

She understood.

Her mind, and the power, together were two parts of the whole. The understanding, the vision, the clarity partnered with innate instinct itself, a knowledge that surpassed anything that could be analysed, or calculated.

Some small part of her tried to pull back, but it was too late. She understood too much to possibly turn away from it. Not as the truth stared her so boldly in the face. Her mind raced through Maximilian Avenforth's body, pinpointing each and every diseased cell with unbelievable precision.

Her mind pondered for a moment as she stared at those cells and the virus that they were reproducing. So many times, before she had tried to kill the virus with her own hands, trying to burn it away with her power, yet each time they ran rampant multiplying dramatically.

Now, it was all too clear. With barely a thought, the power she had restrained to severely raced forwards jubilantly, each cell it touched, each vein, every bone, every gland changed. Each place it touched lit up with a brilliance inside of her mind, a correctness so apparent it almost hurt.

The power danced through Maximilian's body, forcing the body to work how she wanted it to, organising it with the instinct, and commanding it with the vision. Maximilian's body was suddenly a battlefield, each and every cell controlled through her instinct, every component in his body focussed on simply eradicating the insidious invaders. Time blurred as her mind solely devoted itself to the task.

The battle waged, each second drawn into ten as the invading disease was methodically destroyed, its nature as an unthinking, unfeeling thing being no match Alena.

And then it was over, as quickly as it started. The virus was gone, destroyed by the body it inhabited with the careful guidance of Alena's instinct and intelligence. Wisdom and Understanding.

Its job completed, the power she had held from herself for so many years bounded across Maximilian's body once again, setting it back in order, then returning once again to its jailor. Only now, a deep knowledge within her understood that it had never been a being, or a thing. It had always simply been her, another limb that only her and those like her possessed, an aspect of her mind so powerful—so intrinsic—that it could never truly be contained.

All of a sudden, she felt a hand gently cover hers, shocking her back into reality. She stared down at the hand, the fingers long and thin, with a delicateness that you'd expect from an instrumentalist. Even now she could see the veins, nerves and bone shift and fire as it moved. She shook herself of the mental image and followed the arm upwards towards the body it was attached to, then the face of the man she had healed.

The face, strong jaw covered in a light dusting of stubble on smooth, warmly coloured skin. His light brown hair framing his face, slowly growing over the course of testing. But nothing even came close to his eyes.

An ordinary brown, by all means, but it was something else entirely that was so powerfully capturing about them. They burned with a fire so bright that she could feel the heat on her skin as she stared into them. And all in one moment, she truly saw.

In the back of her mind the vaguely remembered Rethi telling her about Maximilian once. He swore to her that, for just a second, he could see what the man truly thought, how he actually felt. He had seen himself in those eyes, any number of future versions of himself, all undeniably successful. She had humoured him, but secretly believed it to be a fiction created by an overenthusiastic boy.

Now she saw just how wrong she was. As she looked into the eyes of the otherwise unremarkably featured man, she could see herself in a painful clarity.

Healer of many, saviour of all who she touched, her hands curing the deadliest of afflictions in a moment. Each life saved benefits another, each life a tree that will grow to shade the others.

Protector of the people, each touch protecting against an unseen threat, one that could cause unknown suffering for millions. Every person protected, a wall between them and a thousand others.

Shaper of futures, a delicate change with a careful hand, changing the fate of a parent's child, and that child's child in turn. For every generation, exponentially more are saved from a fate untenable within the brutality of the world.

Educator of the masses, dispersing knowledge hundreds of years more advanced than what is available, creating a foundation of understanding for generations of scientists and doctors to breakdown and utilise, saving a truly uncountable number of people through the passage of time.

She found herself smiling as she saw these versions of herself, an odd emotion welling up from within her that she hadn't experienced for a long, long time. It took her only a moment to identify it, and when she did, she couldn't stop the sob from escaping her.

It was pride.


A/N: Well, here we are! Time for my first proper Patreon plug!

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[Sarius]

Chapter 59: A Path Forwards

I reclined into the heavily padded chair, sinking into its soft cushioning. It wasn't too soft, not so much that I sank into it like you might a beanbag. But there was just enough to be comforting and pleasant, underlaid with a firmness that supported your butt and back.

How many times had I mused in this chair, wondering just how humans—or maybe just people, considering that there were other races—would have created this sort of chair without the modern tools to assist them that I had the luxury of in a past life. For me, it was another example of just what we, as people, were capable of. Even if it was the simplest, most mundane thing, I always found myself surprised by the knowledge, ingenuity, and understanding that people used to survive the harsh world they were provided as home.

I sipped at my tea, its taste was clear and pleasant without the milk I normally had in it. Thought I may as well try something different, a little celebration of Alena's achievement and my small part in it. It was Mayer's favourite tea, distinctly herbal and almost obnoxious in the strength of its taste. However, after a few sips, the taste mellows on your tongue and calms you. Instead of the almost overpowering affair the first few sips had been, it was like the air of the nearby forest. Refreshing and honest. There was no hidden aftertaste, or secretive ingredients and additives. It was what you tasted.

I dragged my eyes up from my cup, looking at the man that sat across from me in his favourite chair. In one hand he held his own cup of tea, and in the other he held yet another ancient looking book, splayed open with one hand as he read. I took another sip of the tea before I finally spoke.

"You know." I started, calling the man's attention. When he looked up at me, staring at me for a long moment, he nodded and tucked the ancient book away, redirecting his focus to me. I had always appreciated that about the man; he was never afraid to give you his undivided attention.

"Every time I think I find the answer to something, the 'correct' way, no matter how sure I am that I've got it in my hands, I'm always proven wrong." Mayer raised a bushy eyebrow, his now slightly younger face only creasing a little with amusement.

"The Sharah?" He asked probingly. I waved it away, shaking my head.

"Yes, but also everything else too." Stopping for a moment to think, I eventually sighed and carried on, "I thought I had Alena pegged as kid too scared of her own power to willingly use it herself, and I was right… but I was also wrong."

Mayer nodded his head slowly but said nothing. I let a small grin creep onto my face as I remembered the early morning test.

"I knew what I was doing to her. I knew that every time I made her treat me, her own ideas were only enforced with failure after failure. I could feel her anxiety between walls, lingering around her house like a miasma of bad emotion. Maybe there was a better way–" Mayer shook his head gently.

"You did what you had to do." I sighed with a little exasperation. We both knew it was true. Of course, I did what had to be done, even if it was unpleasant. Yet, as I looked into the old warrior's eyes, I knew that we both didn't believe that it was a good enough excuse.

I smiled wryly, continuing onwards, "When she came downstairs this morning, I knew something was different. She had found the fork in the road. The make or break. When she touched me, her mind crazed with a whirlwind of emotions, I knew she'd done it." I caught a glimpse of a reminiscing expression on Mayer's face. I knew he understood.

"She became so much more than what she was, after that. Right in front of my eyes, she found a strength even I couldn't see in her. It was… enchanting."

We sat in silence for minutes afterwards, both of us remembering that moment, undoubtedly vastly different moments, but also so very similar. I drank down the rest of the tea I'd been given and placed the empty cup on the small chairside table, letting myself sink further back into the chair.

"Do the surprises ever stop?" I asked in the end. The question that had been on my lips the moment I'd seen that change in the small, hate-filled girl. The same one who had railed against me so thoroughly since I'd known her, ignoring everything to act out an inner hate. A crippling self-doubt.

The man before me, though he now looked only middle aged, was just over two centuries old. I wonder what he saw in me at that moment, as his eyes light up with undisguisable mirth, a glee so pure that it infected my own expression.

"No, Max. For some that live as long or longer than me it does, but never once have I found myself unsurprised by that moment of transformation. People have always been endlessly surprising to me." The answer was simple, but it was exactly what I needed. Every time I thought I understood, I was always proven wrong, shown a new side of the equation, a new point of view. Honestly, as frustrating as it was, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Mayer downed the last of his own tea, placing the empty cup on his own chairside table, letting the comfortable silence sit between us. But of course, the question we all knew was coming finally made its way out of Mayer's smiling lips.

"When?" I sighed with as much humour as I could muster. I looked out of one of the nearby windows, seeing Orisis slowly seeking to eclipse the sun that stayed forever stagnant in the peak of the sky.

"Tomorrow, early morning. We've prepped everything, I think." Mayer grinned, knowingly. You can never truly prep everything. Something always falls by the wayside.

"So you heal Rethi's mother this evening." He stated, and I nodded needlessly. Rethi had come to meet with me every day during the testing, hoping that each time the solution had been found. I knew Rethi felt guilty about it, I didn't even need to look into his emotions to see that much. He hated watching his girlfriend suffer like she had been or watching me continually infect myself for test after test. He wasn't overreacting, as such, but he was needlessly fretting.

Of course, he wouldn't be the person he was if he didn't worry himself over others, even if what they were striving for would ultimately benefit him. As of right now, Alena would be preparing Shae to be healed. I would likely miss the act itself, but it wasn't for me to enjoy. It was Rethi's moment, one he deserved to spend with his mother in peace.

I pulled myself from the comfy chair and stood in the middle of the room, sucking in a big breath of air. In that moment I committed everything I could to memory. The smells, the tastes, the atmosphere, the bookshelves filled with that ancient texts have been read a thousand times, the collection of three comfortable chairs where I had spent countless hours musing about it all with Mayer and Rethi, cup of tea in hand. I could only smile bitterly, knowing full well that—try as I might—I would eventually forget most of what was here. I would forget the soft but slightly frayed rug that sat underfoot over beautifully maintained wooden floors. I would eventually forget the individual patterns that each cover of those ancient books had, the only way I had to identify them from each other, being unable to read the esoteric languages they were titled in.

I would forget much of this little house. But there was one thing about it all that I would never forget. Could never forget.

I smiled down at the sitting man, extending a hand to him and quirking an eyebrow. The man rolled his eyes theatrically but took that hand—letting me pull him from his chair with a careful ease. We looked each other in the eyes for a moment after that, his stone-grey meeting my own intense brown, our hands wrapped around each other in front of us. With a grin, I pulled on the hand, levering the much older man into a full embrace, closing my arms around his body with as much strength as I could put in without hurting his now entirely mortal form.

He collapsed into my embrace with a rush of air from his lungs, almost totally subsumed by my much taller figure, but it wasn't long until I felt his own arms wrap around my back, gently patting it like a father would his child. I snorted at the mental image, realising that it held more truth than not, and the snort quickly became a restrained sob.

For all my bravado—all my confidence and enthusiasm—my heart radiated its hurt through my body, the only consolation was the smaller form of my greatest teacher, wrapped in my arms. The hardened and developed muscles of Mayer's shoulder, created through nigh endless training and constant battle, became a soft resting spot for my head in that moment. Who would have known that a man—purpose built to fight against the unending tide of foes—would have such a gentle soul?

I let myself laugh in his own powerful embrace, the mixture of laughing and sobbing, just as undignified as you'd expect it to be. I let the emotions run dry, embracing the man who had stepped up to be everything I needed him to be, despite having no reason to do so. At every chance he'd been given to end me where I stood, to send me away to a certain death; he had advised me, consoled me, taught me. And in turn, he trusted me at every chance I had to screw him over, to abuse his money, power, and influence.

And now I realised that I stood in front of a father I had lost to a duty I couldn't ignore. Second only to my father back on Earth, one who I could never meet again, maybe only in a life beyond death.

I wiped away the tears and gunk from my face and pulled away from the man's embrace, smiling weakly at he who was nothing short of a father in spirit. He smiled sadly but quickly turned back to his seat, rummaging beside it for just a moment before returning with a long wooden case.

The wood it was made of was dark and gorgeous, the ever so subtle pattern in the smooth, varnished surface of the wood was a treat for the eyes. The design danced across the wood, the tight pattern edging the long rectangular box with a faint gold colour, catching the light in a magical display of true craftsmanship. Mayer gently presented the box to me, leaving the heavy object sitting in my hands.

It was a piece of art, through and through. I could feel the pure emotion that had been poured into this simple but magical artwork. I looked to Mayer and he nodded, giving me the approval to open the box. I placed one hand underneath it, gently pulling the snug lid from its counterpart, revealing a small piece of folded paper.

The piece of paper sat over top of a mess of silk—stuffed over an indentation in the black felt padding of the box's inside. I quirked an eyebrow at the man in front of me, whose grin was growing by the second. I picked up the delicate paper and unfolded it with a flick. On the pristine paper, only a few words were written, but they stuck me with glorious surprise.

A box in return for a life with purpose and futures. More than a fair trade. –Orion Jothian.

I let out a bark of laughter, a smile so wide it hurt my cheeks as it emblazoned itself on my face. The Jothian boy? That angry young man who'd once attacked me late one night had made this? Was that all it took, those measly words I had thrown at him in my anger?

No, I hope he understood that it was never those words that had given him purpose or a future. This artistry, the creativity and dedication that laid within this simple box was never something those words could have inspired. It was always within him, just waiting for the right moment.

I placed the lid of the box down with the little note of paper resting inside, and returned my focus back to the box, its true contents obscured by the length of silk stuffed into it. I grabbed it and slowly pulled it away, revealing a long length of wood, immaculately carved with sharp and precise edges that whispered of a young boy's mind. My memories returned to so many months ago when I had awoken from my first night in this little house and picked up this very length of carved wood.

Before my eyes, I swear I could once again see a young boy grinning with a wild glee up at me, his fiery red hair an explosion leaping from his head. The vision of the boy sent chills across my body, a knowledge that this was the maker of the wand. I could feel the emotions of that boy, a snapshot of his very being, forever encapsulated within it.

"Axen." I said, the name coming to me with ease. As if I had known the red-haired boy for as long as I could remember. Mayer's grin was filled with satisfaction.

"His wand is yours now. A gift to help you remember. Remember the boy, remember that very first morning." I gently pulled the wand from its snug compartment, feeling the warm wood with my fingers before returning it, along with the silk and note, to their rightful places. I clutched that box with more care than I'd held anything before in my entire life.

I looked at the man in front of me, barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, my nostrils and lips twitching with the effort. He laughed; his own eyes moist as he stared back at me in turn.

Then, the most superb warmth flooded through me like a million campfires, enjoyed by those who sat around them. I could feel that warmth leak from my skin, the room brightening with the sudden flush. Voices that didn't exist, spoke in hushed tones, or boisterous ones. The phantom clamour of jolly men; their plates, mugs, and invisible cutlery clashing with meals as satisfying as the company. The sounds of important, and not so important arguments between those who were as different as they could be—or those too similar to possibly agree.

And yet, for all the multifaceted ways this warmth made itself known, it all boiled down to a staggering closeness. Binding the most unlikely of people together over a moment of pure safety, with warmth and food, conversation and jokes, arguments and passion, or a solemn quiet, preceding an uncertain future.

My body stepped forwards without my command, my hand raising to gently caress the side of Mayer's head. The light confusion but fundamental understanding danced in the wise man's eyes as he observed me, not acting to stop my body. When my mouth opened unbidden, a clamour of voices—steeped in power—spewed forth from it, filling the room to the brim.

"You, the father of our kin. Stand tall against the world, for you are the one who guided its saviour." And with a blazing warmth, my lips pressed against the older man's forehead, the favour of my brothers and sisters imparted to my spiritual father. I stepped back, almost embarrassed, but that small amount of favour that I had unintentionally imparted meant far more than could truly be conveyed to those without it.

Mayer's stony-grey eyes opened after along moment, now contained within them a tiny fire, little more than a candle. But it was enough. We looked at each other again and smiled.

With a wordless farewell, I made to leave that small little house. Even as it pained me to not speak, not have one last conversation, one last cup of team, one last embrace, I knew.

All that would be said, had been said. All that could be given, had been given.

I didn't dare turn back to look at that little house.

---

​

I had trained the night away in my field, spinning, leaping, and swinging with fervour. I could feel the strength in my muscles alter to surpass what I ever could have attained with that little screen in my mind. My body was slowly crafted and forged through an endless pursuit of understanding myself.

The Sharah had become more than just a fighting style, more than a set of movements. It had become a language of movement, of understanding and fluency. The Sharah was not understanding itself, far from it. No, it was merely the path you walked to get there.

I had thought myself gifted in its steps, but I had only been looking at my feet and a metre of the path ahead of me, foolishly believing that I could see its end. Now, I saw more of it, enough to know that over the next hill there would be a thousand more hills to travel, and mountains beyond even that. I knew that the Sharah was only one path you could take. Alongside it was thousands of other just like it, some in disrepair and degrading, others that were clean and nice, bypassing hills and mountains in favour of flatter ground. Yet, despite their differences, both were somehow equal in it all, unable to be anything but for them to eventually reach whatever it was that lay at the end of the paths.

I transitioned smoothly from a training kata, yet another bastardisation, into walking in the direction of Rethi's home. The trip was short and sweet, arriving at Rethi's door, the sun still yet to be unobstructed by the orbiting Orisis.

I felt the emotional states within, two states bound with an indescribable joy, and a lingering sorrow. I rapped two knuckles against the door, feeling both emotional states spike and then calm, the morose atmosphere leaking from their minds. I left them for a minute and opened the door gently to reveal both Orsens within the living room.

Shae, though clearly healed, still looked unwell but her skin was returning to a more natural shade of pink, along with a clearly increased appetite, judging from the remains of food surrounding her. There was a momentary spike of anger as she saw me, but it died into a quiet sadness partnered with shame. I only smiled. She was never an evil woman, simply misguided and in pain. And now she had been tentatively released from both, and she was the person we both knew she was underneath it all.

I turned to Rethi, meeting his questioning gaze. I nodded with sorrow at the boy, watching his heart drop. He turned to his mother, pulled her close and whispered into her ear that made her everything weep with a loving pride and unspeakable sadness. He pulled away, kissing his mother gently on the forehead, and pried himself away from her. He quickly began walking towards the door with a confidence I knew he didn't feel, just as unable to look back as I was.

As we walked away from that run-down house, I could feel Shae's heart break. I knew there was nothing I could do to help her, except for one thing.

"Unsheathe Hindle and raise it, for your mother to see." And he did. I watched, in that moment, as Hindle pushed away the gloom of dawn with the shine of the Midday sun. For just that moment, Shae Orsen felt relief, the true knowledge of her son's overwhelming future bringing comfort. Leaving only the ache of a broken heart.

We continued towards Gram's Apothecary, the storefront alive with anxious emotions. I entered, leaving Rethi outside to finally prepare the horses and the bags. Immediately I was confronted with Alena and Michael, both walking towards their entrance. Upon seeing me, they both froze, nodding at me in greeting simultaneously. I smiled along with a nod back. As anxious as they both were, they were prepared. Alena even had the beginnings of glee within her. Michael, despite his fears and anxieties for his daughter, understood that with me, Alena was as safe as she could ever be. After all, I had made that pact and bound by Divine soul to it, however unintentional.

Alena walked forwards to join me, turning around to look at her father as she stood by my side, prepared to leave the only family member she had left. Michael fiddled with his clothing for a moment before he turned to me, taking off his glasses, and staring me dead in the eyes.

"She better come back." He said stonily, though I could tell he was barely restraining the sob behind his expression. I nodded deeply, almost a bow. Alena, however, walked back towards her father and gently caressed his face, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. Gram blinked, surprise running through his mind before Alena grinned, whispered a goodbye, and left as quickly as she could before she could never make herself leave.

I smiled, knowing full well that she had just healed her father's poor eyesight. We regarded each other one last time, the bookish man burdening me with one last—entirely clear—gaze before shooing me out of his store.

And less than a half hour later, we were gone. Following the old, beaten road out of the small town, leaving behind everything and moving towards a future as uncertain as any. It was now that every step felt like it mattered—no longer confined to a small part of the path. Now I truly walked forwards, towards whatever waited at the end of the treacherous path, good or bad.

The first steps of hope.


A/N: And this, my friends, is the completion of Unwieldy's first 'book'.

What a ride, this has been, over the last month and the months I spent writing before that, even. I've been writing so much that it was easy to forget these singular chapters, the ones that should have burned themselves into my brain with their significance, but they didn't.

The story continues forwards, towards a future outside of a small little town, within a world far larger than Maximilian knows quite yet.

I hope you all enjoy what is to come.

A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 60: Mecca

The journey of a thousand steps always starts with one, as someone famous probably said back on Earth. And it was as true as an overly vague saying could ever be. All three of us knew that the beginning would be rough, our bodies and minds used to the comfort of living in one place, perhaps with the exception of Alena who had travelled numerous times—though never so independent from her father.

It was a learning experience for all of us. Mayer had tried to instil a sense of what we'd face with the subjugation quest we'd been sent on, but as soon as it was no longer just a training exercise, things changed rapidly. Suddenly many things that had been a given before were now scarce and potentially in risk of depletion.

We had a large quantity of food, Rethi's horse—Darksteel—and Alena's horse—Lily—were both capable of carrying a decent amount of weight each, even if a lot of the weight was other essentials and the food for the horses. The real upside was that I could easily carry an inordinate amount of weight. It had actually become more about what bags I could use to carry as much weight as possible.

In the end, there really weren't enough supplies to come close to reaching my limits. If I was capable of lifting my hammer and doing anything at all with it, the angles perpetually at my mechanical detriment, I could easily support far more than its weight in bags and supplies.

So, in practice, we were set for quite a while and with how we were likely to be travelling through other towns who have an incentive to buy and sell to travellers and merchants—it was almost impossible that we would end up with absolutely no supplies.

Even if we did end up with no supplies, I can't say that it'd be all that difficult to hunt or forage for food. I don't even have to eat, as far as I can tell.

Thus, we continued on without all that much worry, besides that strange mixture of both wonder and excitement with a healthy anxiousness. The first town was barely two days of travel along that path and we didn't even bother to stop. Aside for buying treats for the horses and ourselves, sharing some of our newfound wealth.

And newfound it was. We hadn't packed any overt amount of wealth ourselves, content to just use what we had silently accrued over the months we had been receiving pocket money from Mayer. It had been a sizable amount of money, enough to buy a house back in that little nameless town, probably in excess even still.

It was on our second day—when we passed through the neighbouring town and had gone to buy simple bits and pieces that caught the eye—that we had found the mysterious pouch of money at the bottom of Rethi's bag. A pouch put it to shame, really, it was more of a small bag than anything. It, of course was filled with glittering iron, bronze, silver, and gold.

The math on the money here was simple and without frills, easy enough to translate with a second's thought. It was probably engineered that way, mainly created to be used by a populace that don't necessarily have a comprehensive grasp on even simple math, let alone the complexity that comes with a lot of economics.

It starts with hum; which is just a single unit, then smah; which is ten, shim; which is twenty-five, and then ruhk; which is fifty units. There are four levels of currency that are commonly used, iron, bronze, silver, and gold. I had no doubt that there were more levels of currency, but they hardly mattered. Each one-hundred units of the lower material currency is worth one of the material directly superior to it.

So, in a single glance inside that small bag, I counted the gold pieces and racked up somewhere between eighty and one-hundred golden hum total. That was already a monstrous amount of money, far more than I could possibly conceive the use of. Enough to easily start a life somewhere as a rich benefactor to a small village, much like Mayer himself.

Kicker was, that each of us received such a bag, sitting at the near bottom of our packs, cleverly hidden and disguised amongst other supplies and components. I think all of us had half a mind to turn on our heel and march all the way back to Mayer's home, just to shove the ridiculous amount of money we were gifted with right back in his face.

Though we didn't, obviously. None of us were naive enough to believe that—with the goals we were working towards—we wouldn't find a use for this money, and that it wouldn't find a way to evaporate out of our pockets if we weren't careful. All of us were powerful, and we all had the distinct capability to make an inordinate amount of money on short notice, but not this much money.

Even Alena, who had been kept in the dark as to what Rethi and I were and what we were seeking to do—to the vocal discontent of her boyfriend—knew that this money would come in dire need. Sooner rather than later, more than likely.

It was the third or fourth day that we told Alena the truth. That I was a Demigod; possibly the closest thing to an actual God upon Virsdis or Orisis, and that Rethi was a Divine warrior; the lineage of which holds a warrior so ancient that he had become legend and Mayer Renue himself.

There had been surprise, and even some anger—mostly at the idea that we hadn't trusted her with this information sooner. But when we told her about the Champions, where I had actually come from and the war that would once again bring tragedy to the world like it had only seventy years prior, her feelings on the matter mellowed considerably.

Surprisingly, she took it well. Past the initial surprise, then doubt—which was quickly allayed by proof of our links to the Divine—she quickly became another valuable source of advice and just another sharp mind to help our cause.

When I looked inside her emotions, mostly in an attempt to make sure that she was actually okay, I found that she was stalwart. That strength I had seen bloom in front of my eyes the day before was already being put to use. It was admirable, she had been so afraid of herself, and would have no doubt been just as afraid of Rethi and myself—if she had known what we truly are.

Now, she accepted the reality bending information with grace. It was no doubt helped by the fact that we had never expressly lied to her about any information, just withheld. Within her mind, I could just about hear the puzzle pieces snap together; situations that had taken place right in front of her now had the correct context, and all of them fit snugly into the larger picture.

It felt great to have Alena brought into the fold. She may be quick to anger, easily frustrated and more, but her mind was sharp. From an early age she had been taught with the express purpose to partake in the highest echelons of medical knowledge and practice. You'd be surprised just how much understanding that provided her with.

Excellent mathematical skills, critical thinking, creative thinking, and many skills to complement those highly developed mindsets. If I were to be honest, Alena was likely a good deal more intelligent—or at least more knowledgeable—than myself. If she had been exposed to the resources that I had available to me back on Earth? I had no contest.

Another benefit to bringing Alena into the fold; Rethi and I could go much harder in sparring. To the point where Rethi could use Hindle and I could use my own Soul Weapon without fear of immediate death.

Of course, we weren't so gung-ho that we'd actually use the Divine aspects to our weapons. Rethi could probably kill me if he managed to hit me with everything he had. Though, he had explained what he'd need to do to pull it off, and it was essentially only something that would ever hit someone who was legitimately frozen for half a minute or more.

My own hammer was much riskier to put in play. While Rethi could probably shrug off most injuries, even grievous ones, it was still possible to kill him by non-Divine means. Though I'd have to mulch his brain or do a comparable amount of damage.

It all came down to me just being careful, which I already was. The extra care would diminish the benefits I'd receive from being able to go all out, like Rethi was able to. But it would only help Rethi's own skill and power grow—hopefully to where he is capable of shrugging off mortal wounds.

Through this, Alena's growth soared as well. As the days passed and Rethi and I continued to accrue more and more obscure injuries, Alena only became more adept with repairing them. She still failed a good portion of the time, hence why I would be the test subject for anything potentially risky and Rethi would only receive healing when the risk was very low, or she had already figured it out on me.

On more than a few occasions she'd had the chance to repair significant brain injuries on me. Most of which failed, one even going so poorly that the sudden explosive growth of tissue forced my eyes out of their sockets and sending me unconscious. I was awake and conscious only seconds later, entirely fine with two teenagers looking at me with thoroughly disturbed expressions. Which I found particularly rich, coming from Rethi—the boy who had no hesitations in going for my eyes and testicles at any chance.

Regardless of the fanfare, Alena was able to make it clear that healing brains was exceptionally difficult. She wasn't able to definitively explain why, even after multiple attempts—but it was at least mostly self-explanatory. It was the brain, an organ so complex that even Earth civilisations could only do the scientific equivalent of banging two rocks together and seeing what happened. The brain is as much a mystery to Earth's modern science as it seemed to be for Alena, with the distinction that Alena had already successfully repaired my brain after a concussion.

Just one more thing to add to the list of what Alena could potentially do.

After the establishment of our routine, the days began to blur together, consisting mostly of walking or training—or both. Most of the scenery remained unchanged, and the only excitement consisted of the new town we walked through about every other day to a week.

The travel had been wearing holes in my two companions. Even their horses looks like they desperately needed a break. Both companions, their horses included, were too stubborn to say that they wanted nothing more than to rest within a town for a day or two, after what had become a few weeks of pure travel.

So, when I saw the beginnings of a town start to surround the road, I had already decided we were going to say the night, at least. When that very same road slowly became more and more maintained, rather than the beaten and pothole filled mess it had been for the duration of our trip—even I began to get excited.

Around us, buildings went from ramshackle homes—much like those you could find in our little old town—to homes built by clearly experienced and funded tradesmen. As we progressed, the houses lost some of their individuality, built instead to home needy families. To keep them warm when the coldest nights come out to hunt for the weakest prey they can find.

The standard of living only further increased from there, the homes instead becoming about light amounts of comfort—then comfort in excess. As we moved it became clear that this wasn't town, but a city. The houses and stores that lined the main streets became a contest of the finest craftsmanship, of excess comfort in excess. Each storefront specifically designed to inspire wonder and the need to pull out your wallet.

At this point I was just amazed at the stark difference between the road we had been walking on and the sudden appearance of a city that—by all means—was a bit of a mecca for trade and services.

As we finally made it to the centre of the city, after thirty minutes of walking, we found the centre of it all. It was shaped like a cross, two roads intersecting, surrounded by a large open area, lined with stores hawking their best wares. In the bulk of the open space hundreds of street stalls were set up, selling anything from food to clothing. As all three of us slowly turned and stared wide-eyed at the sights—now feeling thoroughly like country bumpkins—I let out a wry chuckle.

"Well, I can't say that any of these places are quite as nice as Mayer's home…" which was truthful, in an odd was. The old warrior's home was meticulously crafted for what was likely an exorbitant fee. The stores that surrounded the town-square-come-market certainly gave the man's home a run for its money, but they just weren't quite on the same level.

"But…" I began slowly, hooking the attention of my companions, "How do you guys feel about sticking around here for a couple of days, hey?" My sly words were met with the faces of two very happy teenagers.


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 61: Burning Eyes

Navigating the city was easier than I thought it would be, most of the relevant stores and services were placed on the main road, as close to the town square as they could possibly manage. This made it easy for the tourist or travelling crowd to find places to spend money.

There was everything from restaurants to equipment stores, to bookstores to brothels. One hundred and one different ways to spend your hard-earned currency, all in one place. It was admirable, to see the clear application of marketing and economic strategies that were all too common in modern day Earth. Though, I was starting to see the cracks in the veneer the longer I stayed here.

Just because the residents of this city—which was inventively named Crossroads—made copious amounts of money from those who bought and sold at their stores and businesses, it didn't necessarily mean that the residents liked them. With my natural empathy, it was too obvious. The sheer distaste from a smiling store attendant was enough to make me warier of the darker flipside to Crossroads.

It became clear that only those who knew what they were doing, or were residents themselves, dared to slip into the side streets—away from the view of the crowds. I myself took a few glances down the side streets and found it to be a packed maze of small buildings and branching paths.

Rethi and Alena were both smart cookies, so they caught on just as fast. My best guess would be a significant criminal element to this city, possibly more than just significant. Of course, while we likely agreed, we weren't stupid enough to talk about it out loud in the street. The walls had ears, and possibly a few eyes, after all.

The day was getting into its later hours, and any enthusiasm that the teenagers might have had to wander the stalls and stores was quashed by their overwhelming exhaustion. Rethi, while technically far more hardy and possibly capable of going sleepless like myself, wasn't quite past being exhausted yet.

Thinking back to my first few days of being a Champion, my body was still acting as if it didn't have infinite energy and even having muscle pain. I can't be sure if I just hadn't boosted my Might to the level I needed to be sleepless, but there was a significant likelihood that my body just reacted that way on instinct rather than actual need. It didn't seem like any type of power simply gave your new spec sheet to your brain, and it accepted it for its new reality. To take full advantage, you had to push yourself with the new powers over and over until your brain rewires what needs rewiring to conform with reality.

Oh well, that was something that he could work on later. This journey isn't going to be ending any time soon.

As the sun was slowly covered by the orbiting planet, its own night sky visible facing towards us, I directed us towards a hotel tavern that we had passed an hour ago as we wandered. It was down the western main road of Crossroads, the one we had arrived from was the southern road. This was all from a compass decoration sitting in the centre of the town centre, obscured slightly by various stalls.

The reason I was taking us to this particular establishment, was because I had been tracking the emotional states of those around us, and within the buildings adjacent to us at all times during our wandering. This tavern was one of the only ones to have employees, and presumably owners, that seemed fine with their customer base. If not happy, then neutral to them at least. We tied Darksteel and Lily up in the tavern's stables, a bit of a luxury in comparison to other taverns that you'd have to pay a stable down the street to take care of the horses. We packed our bags into a provided rudimentary lockbox, though we'd likely bring the bags into our rooms for the extra safety.

As I walked up to the door of the Skinned Lizard, and pushed open its doors, I found myself surprised. Something that had been of note in our wandering of the main roads was the distinct lack of non-human peoples. Any that may have been another race were either passably human, or their forms were hidden underneath their cloaks.

However, in the Skinned Lizard, it seemed like the cloaks were off. Almost every single person inside were of a different race than human. There were still a few humans, of course, but this seemed like it was the sort of place that those of a different race gravitated towards. The most prevalent race inside the Skinned Lizards was… well, lizards. The exact name of their race isn't something I think I've ever been told, and you couldn't pay me to call them lizards.

Many of them were humongous, only a little taller than humans on average, but were much wider. Their shoulders were significantly wider than what seemed natural to my own limited conception of biological structure. Each and every lizardfolk—which is my tentative name for the race—was muscled in some way or another, either the wiry, sleek muscle you see in rock climbers, or the powerful, large muscles of a strongman.

The variance from person to person was significant, though it seemed that the average is the large and muscular variation. Their facial structure differed wildly between variations as well. The large, muscular variation has a thick and wide, scaled neck leading to a similarly wide and squat face, tapering into a short snout. I had no doubt that inside their mouths they house a set of menacing teeth, maybe even reminiscent of crocodilians. The other variation I could see are softer looking, more rounded and slimmer faces that seem less harsh and inherently predatory with a distinct lack of defined scales in place of smooth, shiny skin.

All while I meandered in my mind, I found myself and the suddenly extremely awake teens a table in a quieter part of the large dining room. Both of my companions were nervous, their eyes dancing from person to person. Both of them, Alena included, were effectively being exposed to an entirely different environment, including the new races. Alena emotionally registered as every race in this building being new to her, aside from the humans, which I found to be a little surprising. Maybe if you just never go looking you won't find them?

I observed a reptilian waitress—of the significantly friendlier looking variant—moving herself from table to table. She greeted guests in a light tone with little depth to the voice, and with a slight accent that I couldn't place amongst the other vocal differences. She took orders and moved along, a large reptilian man bringing out food and drinks to the tables moments later.

"Uh, Master Max?" Rethi whispered under his breath catching my attention, and the attention of a few others with exceptional hearing, "Are you sure this place is for… us?" He asked anxiously. I cringed a little inside, and so did those that overheard the light whisper. It wasn't as if the boy was being malicious, I think a part of the reason for his nervousness was that we were encroaching on another's territory.

"I don't think it is a place created just for us, Rethi." I began consolingly in a normal tone of voice, catching the attention of the same listeners, "It's a created space for any who feel uncomfortable in places that would be made for just us." I paused, letting the two teens in front of me settle their nerves. I laughed lightly at the matching contemplation on the faces of the couple.

"We are clearly an other to those that live and work in Crossroads, so are we not more at home here? With those who find themselves as others themselves?" I let my gaze wander to the diverse crowd, the lizardfolk being only the largest majority. The few other races that I could see were distinctly more human, two men who were easily over eight feet, a man who had moss covering much of his exposed skin, drinking with a woman with sharp features and lightly tinted red skin.

"Why thank you for the lovely words, there 'Master' Max." My eyes turned back to the lizardfolk waitress I had seen busying herself earlier, though her voice held some apprehension for my 'title'. I grinned towards her soft and colourful features, almost reminiscent of a cute gecko. Her shiny skin was a vibrant blue with large, dark eyes protruding from her streamlined head. Rethi's face immediately burned red with embarrassment, realising that if this waitress had heard him that more had likely overheard too. The waitress did the best approximation of a grin on her reptilian features, careful to not display her teeth.

"Ah, well—I try." I shot her another grin, awarding me with some amusement in her emotions, "If you don't mind, may I ask the name you use for your race? We come from a small road town south of here. Not much diversity to speak of, you see." Her dark eyes filled with some understanding, even as she let out a constrained sounding laugh. I couldn't quite tell if that was just how her laughs sounded, or if she was doing so consciously.

"I see, it isn't often that travellers come from the south road. As for our name, we are generally referred to as Reptilia, though it is a wide net cast for many fish." Her speech was very consistent, holding a distinct, predictable rhythm. Her high-pitched voice—though not grating—would likely be difficult to hear if the clamour of the dining floor were any louder.

"Interesting!" I said, trying to walk the line between being politely interested and too interested, "Are there specific names for the race of each Reptilia?" She seemed a little surprised that I wanted to know more and seemed happy to comply with my interest.

"Indeed, those reminiscent of myself are named Gek, or formally Gekkonidae. We are the second most populous Reptilia in Crossroads. The foremost representatives of Reptilia in Crossroads are from the Tiliqua tribes west of here, however they are part of the larger Scincidae race." I felt my mind turn over with the new information, my companions doing the same. It seems like the classifications the Reptilia used amongst their own 'race' was quite stringent, and maybe even tribal in nature. An airy chuckle from the Gek woman later, and my mind was brought back to the present.

"Anyway," I said, waving myself and the others from out stupors, "what do you suggest we eat?" I received a thinly pulled from the woman's already non-existent lips.

"Please don't order any of the Reptilia 'cuisine'." I could hear the air-quotes in her voice, before she waggled her strangely ridged fingers, "It could hardly be called that and is frankly gross to most Reptilia. The only reason we still serve it is because of Tek." I started with surprise of the light disgust in the woman's voice, and the much more powerful emotion to accompany it. She didn't dislike this Tek person, but she was perturbed by the food he ate. Interesting how much you could pull with just some simple empathic senses.

"Alright then, how about a decent steak?" Steak was a commodity in Mayer's household, the man too frugal in his day-to-day for his own good. Or he just didn't like steak, I guess.

"Good choice!" The Gek waitress said happily, her emotional state indicating that I chose what was at least her favourite. She asked how big a cut I wanted and how I wanted it done. Rethi just ordered the same as me out of instinct, and Alena ended up ordering a salad of some sort. Just as the Gek woman turned to leave, telling us that the food would be to our table in a little while, I called after her gently.

"What's your name by the way, miss?" I asked, keeping my voice quieter than I normal would if I were calling after someone, but many in this part of the dining floor appreciated quietness, probably due to their sensitive hearing. She turned and gave me a small quirk of the lips in the middle of her snout, what I could only assume was a smirk.

"Gehne." She said, then quickly walked away towards customers that had been waiting patiently while we had absorbed a few minutes of her time. I looked to the sandy blonde headed boy and his dark-haired girlfriend, both of them noticeably calmer now. All they needed was a little reassurance and a nice interaction and they were now letting their eyes dance from person to person with a little bit of wonder sitting snugly in their minds.

The lovely gentleman who brought our order over, along with complementary drinks from Gehne, talked with us for a little while. His name was Tenra, of one of the Tiliqua tribes. Apparently, many from the Tiliqua tribes moved into Crossroads when they started to go into full tribe warfare.

It was good information to know, though I'm not sure it'll necessarily come in useful. The large Tiliquan man eventually ran off once a much deeper voice with the same Tiliquan hiss called from the other side of the room. We mostly ate in silence, the two teens having rekindled their exhaustion, the drawing ever closer to its end. At least the food was good, exceptionally so actually. The meat was cooked perfectly and even though I couldn't tell what animal it had come from, it was tender and flavourful.

After dinner was finished, I waved Gehne over and paid her handsomely for the food and the room I booked immediately after. Apparently, many of the customers were local, so the rooms were open and cheap. Obviously I tipped her, though it didn't seem like it was a common gesture and she tried to decline, but I wouldn't accept the money back.

What else would I do with such an insane amount of money on my hands?

I paid for a room of my own, and two for the teenagers, knowing full well that they'd only use one. I'd use my own room for my bags, which I had hauled up to my room all in one trip, thoroughly impressing the extremely tall men in the corner of the room. By this time Rethi and Alena were already sleeping together in their own room, exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as they touched a soft pillow.

With my two companions safely tucked away in bed, I left behind my bags in my room and made my way out of the tavern, wrapping myself in a dark and heavy cloak perfect for skulking around shady side streets in the dark of night.

As I walked downstairs, many of the tavern's patrons had left for the night, leaving the dining room mostly barren. Making my way towards the door, I passed by Gehne who was wiping down the tables as the night drew to a close for the tavern. I made sure to give the Gek woman a friendly nod as I strode forward, opening the door to the cool night air.

"Master Max," she said, no apprehension in the title she had overheard Rethi using.

"Just Max, or Maximillian if you absolutely have to." I smiled, feeling a little flicker of warmth enter my eyes under the shade of my hood. Her scaly brow knitted slightly, but she nodded gently.

"Max, then. I have to warn you that the streets at night… aren't safe. Especially nowhere you would go with a cloak like that." I could see a healthy dose of suspicion in her, maybe a slight change in opinion from me being a totally harmless person to something a little more… nuanced. I just smiled deeply at the woman, the flicker of warmth from the nearby fireplace brought a toasty, comfortable heat to the room, brightening it just enough for the Gekkonidae's sensitive eyes to notice the change.

"Thank you for the warning Miss Gehne. But I think I'll be quite safe on my outing." I took a step outside, turning back to see her standing there, the cloth she'd been using to wipe the table now hanging limply from the ridges of one finger. Her mouth was open wide, revealing the small teeth that had been hiding just behind her lips, the large cavity of her mouth almost intimidating if it weren't so amusing.

"Goodnight, Miss Gehne." I said as the door closed, and I disappeared into the shadows of the streets—still feeling the shock she'd experienced when she saw my burning eyes.


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 62: Small Step

You know, skulking around in the dark would be a whole lot easier if I didn't show off to the waitress—making my eyes quite literally glow in the dark.

The fire had faded mostly, but it still managed to catch the eye of one or two who travelled the main streets in this late hour. The Gek woman, Gehne, had been right, of course—even the main streets weren't safe at night. I saw more than a few men get the contents of their pockets taken from them, the subjects of the attacks to belligerently drunk that they didn't even notice. As much as I fancied myself the virtuous hero, I turned a blind eye for the moment. Not only were the victims all relatively wealthy travellers, but their coin poches were already woefully empty by the time that the thieves and pick pockets got their hands on them.

Seems like the businesses around here were a little… brutal on the customer's wallets. My rationalisation for not bonking every thief on their head was pretty simple; if they had money to waste or were wasting money at establishments like the ones they were leaving, then I can't say that I was all that inclined to protect their wallets.

I felt my eyes slowly leach the warmth that I'd accrued in the Skinned Lizard. When I had called for the power—to give her a little show—I had only intended for a small amount of the flame to come to my eyes, but it seems like my domain itself had ideas about that. I couldn't tell just yet, but my domain clearly feels stronger arounds places of great hearth. Maybe that was also part of why I picked that particular tavern, an unconscious understanding of its internal atmosphere. A handy trick.

I walked through the main streets, keeping my head on a swivel, and looking for a particularly dingy side alley to walk down—which didn't take long to find. I soon stood in front of a clearly well used alleyway facing into the south west quadrant of Crossroad. To put it in blunt terms, it looked downright scary. If I weren't a literally Demigod, I knew that my mind would be racing with the numerous ways that I could die when I turned the next corner. Now though, I was almost amused by the slight mortal panic still residing in my gut and took a step forward, letting the darkness of the side street overwhelm the brightly coloured and lit establishments to its left and right.

My eyes adjusted to the almost pitch black in an instant, letting me wonder forth through the veritable maze of buildings. If you every wanted to experience urban hell in action, apparently Crossroad was the place to do it. The buildings were old, and newer additions had clearly been built up rather than out. My guess would be that everyone wanted to be as close to the inner city as possibly, unless you are abandoning the idea altogether and going to live out in the houses that actually have a front yard outside of the direct reach of the city.

I kept my eyes wide open as I casually walked through its labyrinthian walls, seeing absolutely no one and nothing but also knowing very well that they lurked behind every corner. Who 'they' were was a more difficult question to answer, to be truthful with you. But from their mental state alone, I could tell they weren't the nice locals, hoping to give you directions to make sure you got to your accommodation on time.

I travelled forth through the inherently boobytrapped maze, skirting by every little encounter and illuding quite a few watchful eyes. It felt good, I'll be honest. It felt powerful to use my powers of empathy and general senses to so thoroughly trump the predators that sat around the corners of the increasingly slum-like district, trumped in so far as they never even got a chance to fight me.

The convoluted passageways that comprised the districts closer to the main roads were nothing in comparison to the torturous paths of the not so nice districts. The buildings loomed overhead, most without much of a window to speak or, likely because any window would simply face directly into another across the street. I could feel the minds of the people within, families too scared of the night and the predators lurking within to dare let their presence known. Some even had senses good enough to see me in the darkness, even though my steps were almost entirely silent against the thoroughly tarnished from years, or even generations of use without so much as a single cursory wash. Now that I think about it, didn't most people deal with their waste by throwing it from their window into the streets?

Suddenly every small pile of detritus, that likely could have been anything, caught my eye—my brain hellbent on walking around them, staying as far away from what could be actual human shit. Or non-human shit too, I guess. We're inclusive here. The stench of the streets had been something I'd experienced on the main streets, and it only threatened to ger more pungent the further I pushed through. Thankfully, from being exposed to the truly most vile smells that the human body could produce after being slaughtered by Rethi's blade for months, I was pretty well desensitized to sour smells in general.

'What was I looking for?', you might hesitate to ask. Though the answer was as simple as could be. A location of promise. My directionless walking through the ever-branching paths of the slums—their looming threat to keep me within their walls forever—finally produced a location that I would consider promising.

There was a tiny little nature strip—a solitary spot of green in the hell of grey, brown, and red stone. I suspected that it was a piece of history, left behind from when this area of the city was actually nice—or at least tried to be. Now, the both overgrown and slowly dying greenery had every building's back turned to it. I wouldn't even be remotely surprised if those who lived in those buildings—as dour as their emotional states were—didn't even know it existed, the only entrance to it being an obscure and abandoned path. If I hadn't seen the strange street out of the corner of my eye and chose to duck through the narrow and confining sheltered walkway—clearly crafted to service people at least a foot shorter than myself.

There was a little stone bench, one that sat flush against a wall that was just the back of a building. I sat down on that bench, finding it to be surprisingly clean in comparison to the grimy and gritty surface that I had expected. I made a quick adjustment to my pocket, making sure that just a glimmer of coin was visible in my pocket, the pouch I had filled with various coins filled to the brim and almost overflowing with mostly 'worthless' coins—in comparison to our sudden net worth, anyways.

Then I simply sat, giving my surroundings one last cursory glance before I closed my eyes and crossed my legs on the comfortably wide bench—placing my large and still surprisingly callous-less hands on my wiry thighs.

The nature that still existed here was beautiful amongst the sad surroundings. Most of it was undoubtedly weeds of various strains, and it was probably why the little area was dying after so many years of neglect, the grass and small collection of flowers no contest to the nutrient depriving weeds that menaced them. There was one solitary tree, one that had clearly lived here long before the city had been built, at least before it had become what it was today. Its old and wizened bark, a noticeably lighter than the stone that perpetually surrounded it, gave way to its soothing light purple leaves. The only reason that the tree was still alive was probably because the sun was always directly upwards, shining its light through even the most dilapidated alleyways. As a side note; the only reason residents of Virsdis still used the typical measures of time here—like midday—was because it was a hold over form Orisis, and was probably way easier than reinventing the wheel.

Of course, the world had continued to move along even in my contemplation of this small slice of it. To be truthful with you, the amount of time I had been sitting there was more than I'd have liked—but such was the patience of a fisherman. I was no fool and was increasingly finding myself to be far more powerful that I'd thought, just in general. The little town I had lived in was so much less complicated than even a single—almost abandoned—alleyway in this city, and my powers were drinking it in with reckless glee.

As soon as I had walked in this alley, I knew that there was a person sitting atop the roof—far above the looming walls. I had also taken a good, long look into their emotional state and determined a few things. They weren't a bad person, but they would rob me. They would feel bad when they went home that night, after buying food for their small family and I could somehow intuit that—if they stole any amount of money from me—my face would forever be impressed in their memory as a snapshot of the one person's wallet who changed their life. It was the clearest emotional state in the range of a few streets by a wide margin—though still paling in comparison to the sheer strength that Rethi and Mayer were capable of exerting through their emotions alone.

I waited patiently until the form on the roof noticed me, and then the almost twenty minutes that they took to decide to rob me. As they crawled down the wall, their body pressed flat against the messy stonework, I kept almost entirely still. I could feel the calm fear that coursed through the person's veins—far too experienced to let true fear and anxiety run its course, a deadly mistake in a game like this. Though, even now, they know that their target is far more dangerous than any they had tried before—something deep inside of them knowing that they were walking right into a trap, even if desperation pushed it to the furthest reaches of their mind.

I felt as the person crept up right behind me, their form mere centimetres from mine as they hung on the wall without slipping at all. I could feel their hand reach towards my pocket, my senses brightening slightly with the faint pulling sensation of the monstrous purse's weight leaving my possession. I could feel the mental state of the person, their mind alight with any movement I made—which was the total absence of any. I had come a long way in my physical self-discipline since those early days of me trying to amend my terrible posture.

I let the purse leave my pocket and felt the person's guilty eyes glance over my 'sleeping' face before retreating up the wall, just as carefully as they had come. Of course, as soon as their attention left me, my eyes snapped open and my body flooded with movement. Let me tell you; when you have enough physical strength, so much that it easily dwarfed your own bodyweight by at minimum of ten times in the most disadvantageous positions—with at least passable skill in a complicated movement structure that is inherently linked to kinetic shifting—you can truly pull off some physics defying stunts.

If course, I had never practiced this particular movement—yet with less than a thought, my body danced up the side of the building, conjoining, and whispering the words of movement and motion, pushing me body upwards with a silent vertical speed. The world whirled as my feet—wearing a light and flexible shoe I had come to prefer—gripped against the wall, my toes instinctively finding the cracks and cervices to pull my body forward with the blinding speed I wouldn't have thought would be remotely possible on a sheer vertical surface like this.

The wall I danced up was out of the line of sight of the thief, their careful ascent up their own wall focused on not making sound, rather than speed. Though as I had silently made my way up to the roof, finding myself looking at a strangely beautiful view of the city, I walked over to the roof of the building that they were still climbing up. I positioned myself a few metres from the wall, waiting amusedly as the padded reptilian hand finally made an appearance—pulling the rest of their cloth clad body over the precipice. They laid there, staring up at the night sky for a while, just breathing quietly as the adrenalin seeped from their system, giving way to a beautiful relief that I was honestly loath to destroy.

"You're quite good at that, you know?" The thief's mental state jolted into an immediate, terrified panic—though on the surface the thief barely moved, their eyes slowly shifting over to where I stood on the open rooftop, my only backdrop that of the night sky itself—the building being tall even amongst its peers.

"Aw, fuck." An anxious voice jittered out. It was the same almost shrill voice that the Gehne had possessed, and even more feminine than that. It was a distinctly older voice—though not elderly by any means, just older than the much younger waitress'. I smiled gently at the woman's sprawled form, her wiry muscle underneath the patterned light brown skin that peaked through the gaps in the cloth wrap.

"Don't worry. You aren't in any trouble." The suspiciousness only rose further, becoming a wild fear—the brutal emotion burning across her brain.

"Oh fuck, you're a Shadow Walker—shit, please Gods, don't kill me!" Well, I can't say that I had heard the title before—though I could only assume that it was an assassin of sorts, with a name like that.

"I could try to assure you that I wasn't a 'Shadow Walker'—whatever they may be—but I have the distinct impression that you wouldn't be interested much in hearing it." I could already sense that from their emotional state, so it was hardly a surprise when the effectively prostrating woman didn't move an inch.

"P-please, I can give the money back! I only need my life." I raised an eyebrow at the begging Gek. I had almost expected more weeping and theatrics—at least that's what I would have assumed from the trashiest of media back on Earth, the criminal or evildoer shamelessly begging for their life. But even as the woman literally begged, there was a little spark of pride within here. That sort of pride you had in yourself when you play an imaginary scenario in your head over and over, one where you don't look the other way when someone is being bullied or attacked—one where you step in and selfishly make yourself the hero in your mind. The pride that you had when the situation you'd repeated in your mind a hundred times happened right in front of you and—despite maybe a little dithering—you held true to that ideal version of yourself.

Right now, even as she prostrated herself in front of what she believed to be a shadow-walker—a subject of her mind holding no small amount of terror—she took pride in the fact that she hadn't dissolved like a puddle at my feet. Aside from a healthy amount of nerves when threatened with what to her embodied death incarnate, of course.

I walked towards the woman, slowly reaching down to pick up the pouch of mostly iron hum—taking care to not spook the woman as I lifted the pouch from where she had thrown it to the ground in her fear. I looked at the practically quivering woman and—while sometimes it didn't feel like it—I realised that she was probably quite a few years older than my measly early twenties. The night hadn't gone exactly to plan, and I had hoped to get quite a bit more accomplished—yet somehow, I was satisfied despite myself. Maybe just one last act then, shall we?

I reached into the pouch gently, ignoring the iron coins and instead reaching for a singular silver hum. The kind of money that could only really be spent on real estate and in Gram's Apothecary back in that little town of mine—but was a much smaller amount of money here. I crouched down, only a few metres apart from the woman, and I placed the single hexagonal silver coin on the ground between us. The Reptilia's eyes flicked towards my hand and the coin, then up towards my face.

"Come here, tomorrow night. I hope that you feed your family like royalty with that money, until then." I smile widely, giving the woman a reciprocal edge to my sudden charity. When I turned and danced away through the air, my movements guiding my body from the building in a massive leap, I could only feel one residual emotional state—mired in confusion and a tearing anxiety as it accepted the money in front of them.

It wasn't much, but it was something.


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 63: An Awkward Morning

My journey back to the Skinned Lizard fast, as the rooftops were all relatively easy to run across. Most of the rooftops were completely flat, likely in the case they needed to be built upon in the name of expandability.

I had made sure to take some time to rest for the day, wasting the hours away on a particularly nice stretch of field just to the southeast of Crossroads. Despite their being homesteads nearby, though clearly on the poorer end of the spectrum, I wasn't confronted by anyone while I performed kata after kata. Though, I guess who would dare to confront someone wielding a hammer as large as mine, lighting up the darkness with Divine energy coursing through the rune-work on the weapon.

As I approached the Skinned Lizard's door, after parkouring over a good portion of the urban landscape, I idly wondered what my Might stat would be now. As much as I had loathed that screen, it was at least useful in having something to compare myself against. Now I was left without, and my hammer wasn't a constant—only growing heavier as I got stronger—so that was no metric I could use.

I walked into the tavern, not really expecting to see anyone at this hour, but lo there was one person amidst the empty tables.

"Good morning, Gehne. I hope you had a fine night?" I said, trying to keep any pretence of my little show last night out of my voice. The woman turned to me, having known I was here before the door opened with one sense or another.

"Yes," she responded, smiling as best she could, but it felt wooden and unsure, "I slept well last night. How about yourself, Master Max?" Two things I realised in that short stretch of words. One; she was lying terribly about sleeping—she hadn't slept at all and she was even feeling ill because of it. Two; she was trying to be… polite? No, courteous. In much the same way that Rethi had tried to be before Mayer took the reins and taught him properly. It had been interesting to watch Mayer do so; the man being so far removed from polite political titling and mannerisms that it was surprising how much he knew. Now Rethi would be considered average in political etiquette, but I had stopped him from him flexing the majority of the politeness muscles on me.

I looked at the Gek woman with another lens, finding that while she didn't know exactly what I was, she knew I was at least powerful. That was enough to try her best to not piss me off. She stood at an unnaturally straight angle, much like how I bet I had looked when I was first trying to straighten my posture many months ago. She kept any mannerisms she could to a minimum, making her eyes dance around me rather than look me in the face.

"I'm sorry," I began, giving the woman a shock, "I didn't intend to make you so uncomfortable last night. I was honestly just excited to be anywhere than a little road town and I got a little ahead of myself." The shorter, blue skinned Reptilia shifted from foot to foot, her emotional state screaming with just how uncomfortable she felt being apologised to.

"That is okay, Master Max. I just did not expect someone of your–" she stopped herself, her blue skinned throat bobbing slightly, "I would have expected you to be in far nicer lodgings than here." I looked Gehne pensively for a moment, but I stopped when I realised that I was making her more nervous.

"When does breakfast begin?" I asked, looking outside the sash windows at the brightening sky. The windows were likely an expensive instalment, most buildings on the outer areas having other things in place of glass. Gehne was put off by the sudden question but answered anyway.

"An hour or so, Master Max." I cringed lightly at the gratuitous use of the title and name but led myself to a table just beside the woman and motioned for her to sit. She did, with no shortage of hesitance. I held my hand across the table, making eye contact as best as I could with her large, separated eyes.

"Maximilian Avenforth, adventurer, faithful to the Hearth, and reluctant warrior." I said with a smile. We both knew I was downplaying myself, but it was ignored out of politeness. She timidly took my hand in her own, the strange biology of her fingers gripping against my skin in an almost magnetic way.

"Just Gehne, Reptilia rarely have last names." She quickly pulled her hand back from mine, the odd ridges of her fingers straining against my skin for a moment before releasing. "Waitress? I don't have much else, Master Avenforth." She ended timidly, the title eliciting a light chuckle from me—even if there was a little exasperation in it.

"Just Max is fine, Gehne. My companion only calls me 'Master Max' because he's stubborn and also because it annoys me." I gave her a soft smile that she tried to return, though she still doubted I was telling the truth. "You asked me why I came to the Skinned Lizard over anywhere else?" She nodded.

"Well, it's pretty simple, all things considered. As a faithful of the Hearth Court, I'm given a little bit of a feeling about places. Their safety, how welcoming the people are, and so on." Her emotions seemed to indicate a light disbelief, but she wasn't sure. Crossroads might be a trade mecca, but I hadn't seen a church of any kind yet. "So, when I was walking the streets it became clear that the residents and workers of Crossroads dislike travellers. When I walked past the Skinned Lizard and felt that it was welcoming?" I shrugged, the rest of my answer I had already stated within earshot of the woman the night before.

"Even still, we cannot provide the comfort and services other inns could, Master– Max." I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a faithful to the Hearth if I didn't gravitate towards the warmest fire." The small fireplace in the corner of the room, despite being reduced to the silent remains of a fire, glowed with a warmth like it had the night before. An agreement it seems. Either that was my own connection to the domain reacting positively, or it was the other Hearth Gods flexing their own. The Gek woman in front of me noticed instantly but only snorted in amusement.

"Does that happen every time you talk about this stuff?" She said, letting the uncomfortable etiquette drop with some difficulty. I grinned.

"Well, it has been happening more often recently. Apparently, the Hearth Gods are a little partial to me." Unknowingly, we both waited for something else to happen, turning a sly eye towards the fireplace. We laughed it off, but I could feel the little echo of amusement through my domain, the link to my more Divine kin.

"Do you follow a God, or Court yourself?" I asked curiously. It wasn't a question I had ever really bothered to ask—most of the people I had interacted with were hardly a devoutly religious sort, or if they were, they kept it private. Maybe Mayer and the Sun Gods, especially as he wielded Hindle.

"Not, really, no. Some Gek still worship their tribe's God, but I don't know my tribe so…" She tapered off, thinking for a moment. "I think most people worship Gods that are relevant to their situation. Like a farmer praying to the Harvest Gods come harvest time, but other Gods when it isn't. It's usually worship on an individual basis, so I'm not sure that many around here have dedicated themselves to the robe like yourself." I raised an eyebrow in amusement. Apparently, I was a priest of the Hearth now. Fair enough, it'd do as a cover and it would help me explain away some Divine stuff. I have to admit, I had expected a little more in the way of religiousness, but maybe I was just asking the wrong person.

"Less monotheism certainly makes sense, with their being so many differing Courts. I had expected there to be at least a church."

"Well, there are some congregations, but Crossroads is a trade city, most of the residents barely staying for a few years before moving north or west." She shrugged nonchalantly. Oh well, my dreams of learning more about religions—or even meeting another Hearth 'faithful'—dashed, I let myself just enjoy the woman's company for a while. That was, until the first of the customers began to trickle down from upstairs and the smells of cooking begun to waft from the joining kitchen. Shortly after that we said a temporary farewell, leaving me to walk up the stairs to wake the teenagers from their slumber.

I was already happy with the meagre progress I'd made for the day, managing to put the waitress I'd worried to ease. I had an appointment with the other Gek woman late in the night, but the day had barely started so that wouldn't be for a while yet.

I walked up the steps and making a beeline towards our little line of three rooms, only one of which was being actively used. I knocked on the door that I could feel both Rethi and Alena's emotional presences behind, quickly noticing a particular emotion that immediately made me focus my senses anywhere but inside the room. Even if it did light up in my mind like a Christmas tree.

It took a few minutes for the knock to be answered by the door opening, Alena's black hair greeting me from underneath my nose.

"Good morning!" She said with a layer of false cheer. I looked briefly into the room, seeing Rethi hastily putting on the rest of his clothes, his figure being remarkably built from all the physical training. I turned my gaze back to Alena a pleasant smile that was just as false as her cheer on my face.

"Breakfast, be down in ten." And I left to go reserve a table. Not that there was going to be a shortage of them, but more that I really didn't want to her the whispers from their mental states right now.

Sure enough, in less than ten minutes, Rethi and Alena made an appearance. Alena looked as well put together as anyone could look in travelling clothes, neat and tidy with her shoulder length, black hair pulled back into a practical bun. Rethi, however, looked as messy as he always did. To be fair, most of it was his unruly blonde hair which he'd let grow down to his jawline. With the addition of his green eyes, he would look far more at home with a surfboard under his arm than he would with a sword.

They sat opposite me in silence, letting Gehne come and go without order, then Tenra—the young Tiliquan man from the day before—came back with our food, only stopping for a quick greeting. We ate in silence, all the while the couple's anxiety slowly rose, clearly worried of what I had heard or sensed. In most cases this would have just been an amusing afterthought, something to poke fun at the teenagers with and then totally forget it even happened by the time the day was through. But as I sat there in silence, slowly munching on warm bread that had a savory paste spread on it, a sudden lightning bolt of panic hit me.

When the meal was done, I gently cleared my throat, "So, I assume that we all know that bringing a new child into the world while we are on the road would be a very poor life decision, yes?" The two teenagers simultaneously choked on air, Rethi just placing his face in his hands as his ears glowed a vibrant red. Alena's face was just as bad, but she desperately tried to not let it show in her expression.

"You, uh, don't need to worry about that." Alena said, trying to keep her voice as stable at possible through the massive wave of embarrassment that I probably could have felt from blocks away. Underneath it all, though, she was entirely sure that she was telling the truth.

"Good, but still be careful." I said, nodding before standing from my seat without asking why she was sure. Something that I would leave to the absolute recesses of my imagination. I motioned for the two teens to follow, giving a brief nod to Gehne and Tenra as we left the building for the day.

We walked the streets in an awkward silence. Is this what parents felt like when they approached their kids about the birds and the bees? I slowly let the topic fall from my mind as we explored the main streets, we hadn't quite explored fully the day before. We had seen the majority of the south and western streets, with only a cursory glance at the east and effectively nothing of the north.

When we finally got around to the north, the east being almost the same as the western road, we all quickly realised that we had left the best for last. Basically, every store was some description of lavish—so much so that the custom of listing prices and price ranges had gone out of the window with any expectation that you would go home with anything left in your wallet. We took our time looking in window after window, all of which were full pane in comparison to the multiple of most other stores. Then we came across a particularly interesting store.

Not interesting in that I was overly enthused by it, or Rethi as well for that matter. But Alena's eyes lit up like she was the Divine warrior of the Sun and not Rethi. Of course, the inside of the store was a showcase of about thirty different styles of clothes, the mannequins always in a pair of two—male and female, dressed in matching clothing sets. I saw Alena's eyes wander over them and then snap to Rethi, who was trying his best to seem totally oblivious.

With an evil grin to the young man, I walked towards the glass inlayed door of Oscar's Boutique and Tailory. Hearing an older, flamboyant voice call out from the back of the storefront as the elegant bell chimed.

"Well, hello there! Here to find your astonishing selves inside some of my cloth, are you?" Rethi tried to groan, but his girlfriend's predatory grin made him stifle it and sigh, resigning himself to his new reality as we entered the store.


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 64: Coincidence

As it turns out, Oscar—an exceptionally flamboyant tailor who is quite particular about his appearance, despite his age—was an excellent source of information, even if much of it was drama.

I had mostly walked into the Tailory out of necessity, lacking any actually nice clothes to use if I needed them, but also in a daring act of kamikaze by action, catching Rethi in the radius of the blast with every intention of making him suffer under his girlfriend's enthusiasm.

But despite my general lack of interest for fashion and clothing, Oscar was a man whose pure enthusiasm and shameless compliments could overshadow just about any task, no matter how daunting. Rethi and Alena were quickly outfitted in in matching clothing sets, each as formal and luxurious as the last, but in so many different styles that you'd swear they'd never end.

Some were formal attires clearly created to be as 'high class' as possible, complete with frills and layer upon layer of cloth, the sheer impracticality of the dresses had stopped Alena from even considering the dresses, even if she really wanted to try one on. Other attires were more like flowing robes, almost reminiscent of religious robes, others were airy and baggy, similar to what might be used in extremely hot or humid climates.

But even as I was being measured and fitted with a suit that was shaping up to be the most expensive thing I've ever bought, what was even more invaluable was Oscar's experience and knowledge of Virsdis.

Mayer and Alena, while both having been outside that little road town, had most of their knowledge hamstrung. Mayer just wasn't actually interested in the ever-shifting countries and territories of Virsdis, any information he had was either old or just unreliable. Alena was the same, along with her father. They got themselves to Virsdis to run away, and in doing so they just travelled from small town to small town, never truly taking account of any specific location because they had always lived in a road town equivalent.

But Oscar was different. As the highly perfumed man took quick measurements by eye and by a thin measuring tape, he was all too happy to let golden information spill from his lips like nectar to my mind. First of all, I had asked about churches, and was met with a similar reply to what I'd received from Gehne. However, he did talk more about the cities and territories to the east and north.

Towards the north was the first city within the territory of the Brauhm Empire—and though it'd be considered a 'fringe' city, money runs through that place like nothing else, apparently. To the east is a city that is much more like Crossroads but is more residential and focuses on exporting goods from their mines, and 'live goods' like slaves to anyone willing to buy them. Crossroads, while hardly a moral city, doesn't deal with slaves or slave traders as a rule—mostly because that eastern city, named Vahla, had so many social issues because of it that it'd be downright foolish to copy them.

Though it didn't seem to stop Crossroads from letting people go through their city to go and buy slaves and bring them back through Crossroads on the way back. Too easy to earn money off of, I suppose.

Apparently in the Brauhm Empire religion—specifically their Sun God Brauhm—is all the rage, and much of their civil strife is over religious disputes. Why that didn't leak into Crossroads, I didn't know, but apparently between the string of materials and goods producing cities further to the east and some to the west, the sheer capitalism had attracted the least faithful out into Crossroads. Though it seemed that the Tiliquan tribes to the west were difficult trade partners, making it difficult to move things through their territory despite the power of the cities they were sandwiched between.

There was more information about the next closest territory to the south, which perked my ears, but when I asked how far away it was, Oscar shrugged the padded shoulders of his suit jacket emphatically. He came out with an estimate of about three or four times the travel that we'd done to get to Crossroads in the first place, much of that travel being through a long strip of desert. Oscar did note that he rarely saw travellers come from that direction, most being merchants that would sell 'exotic wares' to unknowing townsfolk of the road towns to escape the oppression there.

That kingdom, mce-anchorVeringohs, had their own trade and supply routes that didn't require them to travel weeks through desert to get to the Brauhm Empire and the trade cities that benefitted from their demand.

I kept asking questions until my brain was exploding with more and more fringe political cases that Oscar begun to have difficulty in answering. He was knowledgeable and got a few commissions from Vahla, the cities further east from there, and that fringe city, mce-anchorUrnwyre. But aside from telling me the names of his clients, which he I could already tell was a no go, he couldn't tell me the exact political reasoning behind why Vahla was going through Crossroads and not straight into the Brauhm Empire, other than maybe the Empire only protected the road between Crossroads and Urnwyre.

With all that, I was given a lot to think about—and while the tailor would have been happy to entertain my questions all day long, the two teenagers had quite enough of my rambling.

Soon enough Alena took the reins from me, outlining her ideas with surprising clarity. The tailor was happy to get to work immediately, so while I walked out of the store with a brand-new suit, almost reminiscent of a modern cut from back on Earth. It was a suit I would have expected out of the 1900s, at least. It wasn't uber formal, not like what Alena apparently had in mind, but it was a warm, dark brown colour with a white dress shirt hiding beneath a lightly lighter brown vest, complete with a fanciful fold in the fabric to add an extra layer of class.

Sure enough, the suit was amazing and, while it had been repurposed from a suit that had already been made, Oscar had managed to work his magic to where I would have easily thought it was made exactly for me. The price, which I paid up front, was still ludicrous—but a suit as nice as this, handmade in an age where suits of this exact type weren't common or mass producible.

In fact, the suit that this had been edited from was an 'experimental' piece that Oscar had made as a—and I quote; "bit of fun in my off time, over a few glasses."

I didn't know much about the evolution of male fashion, but I did know that pre-1800s male fashion was horrendous, and much of the examples in this store was closer to that, than a suit. I made sure to compliment the suit to Oscar extra hard, adding in a word or two about the thing being a 'masterpiece of the future'. I don't know if the modern suit will take the world by storm like it did on Earth, but if anyone deserved to be the person to have invented it, Oscar was he.

The suit didn't have a tie, so I asked Oscar to make one for me when he had the spare time, asking for a simple pattern with a colour fitting with the rest of the attire, and with that I was off towards a shoemaker that Oscar recommended.

Before I knew it, the day was over, and my getup was mostly complete, sans the tie of course. The shoes I had got my hands on were clearly not the modern leather shoe that I was used to, but they were remarkably close—despite most of the upper-class male shoes effectively being high heels.

They were a simple light brown affair with laces and everything. And while the design on them was a little audacious—something I would easily have turned my nose up at back on Earth—there was something fun and mischievous about the design that felt at least a little fitting.

I walked the streets in my new suit, getting more than a few eyes glancing my way; either the eye of the higher-class men and women that roamed the streets, looking for ways to waste their money—or the eye from within the shadowy streets, looking for an opportunity to rob me.

I took a peek within Oscars store, the silver haired man—his gently powdered face filled with a rapturous glee—fussed over the work in progress design with Alena, as Rethi turned his green eyes to me and glared, half a plea for help and half hateful gaze.

I pointed through the widow with a wide grin, covering my own mouth with a comical depiction of laughter, before flicking my fingers at the boy pompously and walking off, leaving the boy to his fate. I had another matter to attend to for the day, even if I had spent far too much of it putting together an outfit, of all things. I'm sure Mayer would loathe to know that I've been using his money on a fancy suit and shoes.

I quickly made my way back to the Skinned Lizard, dropping in to grab my long, black cloak. It was a nice cloak, something that Mayer had made clear was a good financial decision almost regardless of the situation. Thankfully, it looked good enough as it sat over the suit jacket, thoroughly protecting my new, fancy clothing from any environmental damage it might encounter. I struggled for a while, wondering if I should change back into the clothing I had been wearing for weeks, but I was too excited about my new suit to care—I may as well use it to make an impression.

I was gone from the Skinned Lizard as fast as I had entered, not giving Gehne and Tenra the time to approach me about my sudden change in dress between serving tables. I was out and about in the shadowy streets of the south-west corner only a moment later, intentionally choosing the least populated side street and then easily danced up the walls to the roof. At least one person had seen me do so, but I was covered by the cloak so my getup wouldn't be immediately recognisable.

From there I casually made my way along the rooves, spying a shadowy form or two doing the same as night well and truly made itself at home over Crossroads. I took my time, patrolling the rooftops out of interest for those that lived below and within the buildings I strode atop.

Their emotional states almost all included at least some element of depression, desperation being the only thing keeping them going through it. I don't know what it was that so many people did in a city like this, being so commercial and all. I could only assume that they worked in sweatshops and warehouses, and if they didn't, then they were probably forced to steal from those who did. The southern part of Crossroads was grimy in a way that the northern parts weren't, not as much anyways. Oscar had said that most of the richer people lived outside the city, and those that were wealthy either lived in their own stores, above the storefront, or in the first layer or two of apartments behind that. The north-eastern and north-western quadrants of the city were mostly safe, the north-western being where the police were set up, just a row back from the stores.

The whole city was a total mess of garbage city planning. I would go so far as bet that Crossroads never intended to be anything more than a shitty traveller stop before Urnwyre, and by extension the Brauhm Empire, took interest in trading with other cities already nearby.

I finally meandered my way over to where I had met the Gek woman the day before. I didn't bother to drop down into the little green nature spot, as nice as it would have been to relax in there for a time. I walked over to a chimney that protruded from the flat roof I stood upon and sat on the lip of its square brick shape. There wasn't any danger of it being used, seeing as it had been blocked up with bricks only a short way down where it would once have run.

"Are we having a good night there?" I asked to cool air, amusement running thick in my voice. Just nearby I could feel the presence of the Gek woman, hanging from the underside of a balcony a little further down, trying to stake me out. Her emotions shuddered for a moment before she resigned to her fate and climbed to the roof as well.

As she stood from hanging onto the wall, I shrugged my arms out of the heavy cloak, letting it rest on my shoulders letting the cloak fall apart to reveal the suit underneath. I could feel a spike of general anxiety from the woman, but I ignored it for the moment. She likely thought that I was high-class of some description, which was about as wrong as it could be. No matter what I did, she was going to be scared of me to some degree.

"It's a nice suit, isn't it?" I said, flashing the inside of the jacket, the satin-y material on the inside shimmering in the low light that still managed to make it to Virsdis through whatever physics black magic. The woman didn't respond, only reaching into a pocket somewhere within her cloak and cloth wrapped form. She pulled out the single bronze hexagonal coin I had given her, throwing it to the ground between us and letting it eventually fall flat after a moment of it dancing on the stone surface.

"I don't need it." She said finally, after I pointedly ignored the coin.

"And I do?" I asked sarcastically, presenting my getup dramatically with a wave of both hands down my form. I could probably do with a haircut and shave to really seal the deal, but I like the light juxtaposition of nice clothes and unruly hair. She didn't answer me, so I delved into her emotions as I looked deeply at her eyes.

Ah.

"No, I am not trying to buy you. Slavery is abhorrent and I won't have a part in it." I said sternly, trying to keep the offence out of my voice. She stiffened, her mouth opening in a slightly aggressive way I hadn't seen from a Reptilia so far.

"Then what do you want from me…" She trailed off, searching for a name.

"Maximilian. And what I want is pretty simple. I've only begun learning what goes on in the light here, but what goes on in the shadows stays wholly a mystery for me. I've begun learning about the Brauhm Empire and Crossroads' link with Urnwyre, the likely massive amount of trade that goes through Crossroads from Vahla and the cities close to them," I felt a slight twitch of disgust as I brought up the eastern city, "but all of that information is only so helpful. The goings on in the shadows? Now, that could give me a better idea of what is going on in Crossroads, would it not?"

The silence remained, the Gek woman—whose name still illuded me—hadn't budged from her intense distrust of me. I don't know what a Shadow Walker is here, but to her I imagine that still remained the most likely option. A Shadow Walker that showed up in a suit was probably even more dangerous.

Maybe it was time to bring a tool out of the toolbox that I hadn't used in a while.

"Are you a religious woman, Miss…?" I probed for her name, but she ignored it.

"Kaliha, the Quiet Fire. She was the God of my tribe." She said with a soft passion, almost daring me to sneer at her. I had never heard of the God before, obviously, but there was a sudden and immediate resonance between the name and my domain. The Divine energy within me sung with a familiar resonance.

"Ah, what a coincidence." I said, a true smile finding itself on my face. I lurched up from my spot on the defunct chimney and gently bent to pick the discarded coin from the floor, holding it up so that both of us could see it.

"I, Maximilian—as a faithful of the Hearth—call upon the Whispering Ember, Kaliha, to officiate a peace between two who wish to see no blood. Do you answer?" I felt the words flow from my lips as if it were entirely natural, the energy burning in my eyes first, then coursing down my skin and into the small hexagonal coin, the bronze metal glowing with its new endowment of power. A Divine Pact.

"She has answered, now do you?" I asked solemnly, extending my long arm out towards her, the coin resting in front of her as it glowed with warmth. When the Gek woman reached out and took the coin from my fingers—all hesitancy gone to an unbridled awe—the warmth flooded into her padded fingers, coursing over her body and, for just a moment, made her dark eyes glow like a warm campfire.

"I welcome you, friend, to the hearth I can provide." She nodded as the ceremonial words left my lips, as instinctual is it was for her to then bow gracefully in thanks. When she stood, staring me in the eyes, she faltered for a moment—the unexpected ritual ceremony of Kaliha throwing her off. So she stammered out the words she could.

"What now?"


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 65: Lauka

The bar was… well, unwelcoming. To say the least.

It was hidden away in the south-west sector, the path to it being obscure and almost impossible to find organically. But I did ask for a quiet place to talk, so I guess I was getting what I wanted. The people inside were largely Reptilia, easily ninety-five percent or more. Though it didn't hold the same atmosphere that the Skinned Lizard made use of, clearly being a highly exclusionary establishment, one where everyone knew everyone.

The humans that were inside stood out like a sore thumb, clearly only here for something ancillary to the actual bar itself, like I was. The majority were placed opposite a Reptilia wearing a similar getup to my own Gek guide, face coverings and sometimes less strict body coverings. It became clear quite quickly what the purpose of this place was.

I was led to a small table in the very corner of the establishment, one that has walls erected around the table for whatever privacy you could get within a place like this. Though I had no doubt it was just fanfare for the humans that are brought here, something to make them feel as if their dirty little secrets aren't being listened in on. Of course they were, I had no doubt that it was a selling point of the bar, to listen to what was going on in the less than savoury world within Crossroads.

"So, a professional criminal then?" I said as I sat myself in the chair, letting my cloak drape over my shoulders once again, a look that was starting to grow on me. It felt powerful, socially anyways.

"You have to do what you can to get by here." She replied stoically, though some of it was fanfare for those that were listening in on our little conversation. I hummed to myself thoughtfully as I extended my aura of safety, a tool that I used passively much of the time. If I focused on the ability, though, I could enforce a soft sense of security. Many were overlooking our conversation due to their worry for my friend across the table. I assume that 'high-rollers' like myself rarely, if ever, came down to muddy their pristine skin with this sort of environment.

"That's fair enough." I said, nonchalance bleeding for my words. As my aura extended, the tense atmosphere slowly quietened before almost becoming calm. The ears listening in on our conversation dropped to nothing more than listening to the mumbling murmur of our voices, no interest in picking up specifics.

"There we are, had to make sure no-one was listening in too hard there." I said, letting a smile warm my face. We were totally obscured from the rest of the bar, so I let my back slump into the fairly decent wooden chair before regarding the woman opposite me.

"What?" She said, her voice low but still natural, keeping the strain out of her voice in fear that it'd alert the Reptilia at the tables around us.

"Don't worry about it too hard. As long as you aren't going to yell, nobody will be taking specific notice to our conversation for the night. The perks of being close to the Hearth Court." The dark orbs of her eyes locked onto my face, examining my expression, and letting her mind whir through what had happened over the past thirty minutes.

"Fine. Do you want to explain why you knew the greeting ritual for Kaliha? The formal one?" Her words stayed at their natural tone, but her emotions were anything but neutrality. It was a mess of quite a few emotions, all ties to each other intrinsically. It wasn't something that I could unravel at first glance.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't meant as an offence. The truthful answer is that I didn't know the greeting ritual. I simply asked toward the Court of Hearth and they responded." I shrugged, keeping it intentionally vague and only really supplying her with a gentle smile. It was a smile I had cultivated to the point where I could almost wear it permanently and never sway from it, an incredibly useful expression.

"You just asked a whole Court of Gods and they responded? I'd more likely believe that you're a God yourself." She said bitterly, the venom in her voice dulled by the hilarity of her coming so close to the literal truth. I chuckled restrainedly, careful to keep the large belly laugh within.

"Ah well, I am a priest of sorts—faithful to the whole Court, rather than just one." She sneered quietly, her lips staying unmoved but her strange skin pulling itself into an intimidating mask.

"A priest? Bullshit. My mother was a priest of Kaliha from childhood, and she wasn't even capable of doing anything more than a greeting, let alone something on the level of a true Divine Pact. I know that Kaliha was only worshipped by the Gek tribes to the far east, and a formal greeting was never given to a human, nor ever translated into the common language. How do you know it?" She threatened softly, her eyes cold and piercing. There was a lot of hurt buried underneath her words, and me giving her this formal religious greeting trawled up this slew of horrible emotions—underpinned by surprise.

"I know it because they know it. Because they thought that I was worthy to hear it, and that you were important enough to receive the greeting. Maybe it'll sound a bit up myself, but the Hearth Gods are quite invested in me—so obviously they think that you are a worthy investment of my and, by extension, their time." I sat with one leg crossed over the other, the pant leg of my suit pants riding up ever so slightly, just enough to show a tasteful amount of the sock I wore beneath.

"Hah, as if the Gods ever cared so much about anyone." She said, bitterly. Though I could tell that she knew she was being unreasonable, bitterness to be bitter.

"Maybe so." I agreed easily, "I'll be honest, I only ever have been following the Hearth Court. I know next to nothing about other religions and other Gods. As nice as I may look now," I gestured to the suit, "would you believe that I came from a small road town? That I didn't even know that Crossroads or any of the surrounding kingdoms, cities and empires even existed until just today?" She didn't narrow her eyes, which I only just realised was a physical limitation of having no eyelids, but the woman certainly felt more suspicious in her emotional state.

"A road town? To the east or south?" I nodded in the southerly direction, and she sat back in her chair, a little flabbergasted.

"What the hell did you do right? Did you sell your ass out to a rich man and does he have any interest in a woman?" I choked down a laugh, before it forced its way out my nose, destroying any guise of coolness I had going.

"Oh no, I think he'd be quite unhappy if I were to open up the relationship like that." I said with a smirk—unable to think of anything but the outrageously funny disappointment that would be marring Mayer's face right about now. Or he'd find it funny as hell, soldier humour and all. The Gek woman did her best not to laugh with me but failed just as amazingly as I had. What was meant to be a scathing remark had somehow turned out to be the best ice breaker I could have possibly dreamed of.

"Maximilian Avenforth, or just Max." I said, reaching out a hand in greeting. With only a little hesitation, the Gek woman grabbed the hand gently and shook it.

"Lauka." She said after a moment, hesitance loud and clear in the word. As far as I could tell, that was her real name. I'd half expected to receive a made-up mess of a name, something that would have shown up in my empathy brightly.

"So, Lauka. Crossroads seems like a place that is desperately trying to look like there is absolutely nothing wrong going on under the covers. What do you think about that?" I asked sarcastically. I would have mimed a microphone, as if I were a reporter, but that'd probably only be confusing in a world without a televised news and microphones.

"It is an absolute nest for villainy." She said, snorting amusedly, "If I could, I'd have moved into the Brauhm Empire the first chance I got. At least there are less gangs there."

"Can't go because you're Reptilia?" She nodded with exasperation.

"They still think that most Reptilia, especially ones from the west, are the religious and warring type. Not that some of them aren't, but the ones willing to move out of their tribes? Not likely to be the type."

"So you're stuck here with your family?" There was a moment of great caution before she nodded, "Is there a better option other than the Brauhm Empire or Vahla to the east?"

"Nope, unless you're willing to make the trip south to Veringohs, which I hear have a relatively high Reptilia population. But so many people die trying to make that trip, unless you have the money to hire people that actually know their way around the place and others that can kill the really nasty beasties in the desert. Other than that, this shithole is the best you can do for yourself."

I let myself sigh, my shoulders slumping ever so slightly. It didn't seem like anywhere here was all that nice a place to be. Crossroads had an unknown degree of corruption—at least enough for professional thieves being used by higher class citizens; Brauhm was religious and racist, which already made them sound extremely appealing; Vahla was probably selling slaves to the Brauhm Empire, and any further out than that couldn't be much better.

"So what about here, then? What goes on in the shadows and who are the hands that pull the strings?" Lauka grimaced, the skin of her cheeks pulling taut in the best approximation of the expression as was allowed on her reptilian features. I wonder if they had to learn those expressions, or if they were natural.

"Well, if I wasn't under your assurance that no-one is listening, I would be very worried that a little lizard will crawl their way back to one of those hands." Her voice was a warning tone, though it still didn't seem like too taboo a topic—probably something that got asked often enough that it wouldn't light up on any radars. Not yet anyway.

"That's quite alright. I'm a big boy and can handle it. Plus, I am paying you handsomely for the information." She looked about ready to argue before her hand made its way into the folds of the cloth wrapped around her body, likely to feel at the single bronze coin.

"You might need to pay more for me to be willing to spill the sort of information that'll get me killed, but general information I can give you." I waved my hand nonchalantly, letting her dictate the exact limits of the deal was an easy enough concession from me. Honestly, I was hardly fussed either way—though her continuing to feed me information would only serve to be more and more lucrative to her. Always reward loyalty.

"So," she began, her voice much quieter even with the lack of listening ears, "The big players in town are three. You have the 'officials', which are really just the oppression department of the 'law'. They mostly just police trade, but they are super corrupt. They let anything from drugs to slaves slip through if they are paid enough, taking a huge cut on the imported and exported goods. Most of the trade goes straight through Crossroads, so that's where all the wealth comes form in the first place." She pointed a thumb towards the north-eastern quarter, where the police station was set up. If I remember correctly, there was also an administrative building nearby.

"Second are the deep pockets that are all holed up in the northern sectors. Most of them have estates further out of the city towards the Brauhm Empire, but they basically have private soldiers all day and all night. Unless you have a death wish, no-one is getting in those places—though people certainly try. I think I have heard of maybe three that have actually gotten in and out without being killed, and one of them is probably lying. Either way, they are usually the big wigs that run the trade that makes its way through Crossroads, worth hundreds of silver hum a month. Many them are 'procurers' of specialist merchandise. Which is to say exotic slaves, usually.

"Thirdly, we have the gangs, which there are really only two. Humans work under 'totally-not-a-sellout' Haedar Kout, who is almost certainly a sellout. They do all kinds of scary shit, but mostly taking people down to the back alley and making them shift to nowhere." I rose my eyebrow at the odd euphemism.

"It means–" She began, thinking I didn't get it.

"Yes, they kill people for hire. I'm assuming that this is to do with the officials that get too righteous or the storekeeper that got their hands on a little too much information?" She shrugged.

"Or a guard that fucked a trader's daughter. Or just a guy someone hates. Anyone for the right price, and at least Reptilia are worth more because we're harder to kill."

"I'm assuming the other gang is Reptilia?" Lauka rolled her eyes gratuitously. Or maybe that was just how it looked when Gekkota rolled their eyes. I'd have to check with Genhe.

"He's a genius folks, get him a pint." I pushed up an imaginary set of glasses, which remarkably seemed to translate, managing to get a small laugh out of the woman.

"I assume you are with them, then?" She stiffened a little, before she just shrugged defeatedly after a moment. She didn't really feel any need to hide it before me, seeing as I could almost care less. I knew almost nothing about her circumstances, but I strongly doubted that they were ones that lent themselves to honest success in the light of day.

"Yeah, basically. Though I try not to take jobs through them anymore, because they are just about as fucked as the human slicks. Though, the leader of the gang just goes by Shed, and he is absolutely not a sellout. Don't fuck with him unless you want one of the only guys that can get in and out of the most secure houses we know of." I tilted my head in thought. I was looking at jumping into a very dangerous game of Texas Hold'em, though the stakes for me were remarkably low, all things considered.

"I'll make a note of it. Though I will warn you, I am finding myself more and more interested about this darker flipside to the first city that I find myself in after Gods know how long in that little town." I smiled charmingly, which made the woman visibly cringe with the understanding that I couldn't be dissuaded.

"Though, I do have to ask; is that Shed person a 'Shadow Walker', as you called me?" Lauka went stiff, this time there was large disturbance in her emotional state, forcing her to swallow a nervous deluge of saliva that suddenly made its way into her wide mouth.

"No, he is not. They come from anywhere, at any time. We think they are professional assassins, but we know nothing else. Please don't bring them up or they will kill you, then they'll kill me. And I really don't want to die tonight."


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 66: Another Day

Lauka took my money and left shortly after that, though I was planning to offer her a tip, but she raced off before I could dramatically dig around in my pockets for more.

I sat around within the hideaway pub for a little while, relishing the atmosphere of just another sort of hearth. While it wasn't a welcoming one, it certainly had its own warmth to it, a secretive fire for conspirators to gather around and discuss just another plan. I didn't stick around for too long, and when I left, I gave the bartender—a hardened looking, green Tiliquan—a fair tip, along with subtle eye contact that told him just how… unappreciated the selling of my whereabouts would be.

After that I just roamed the rooftops, not feeling the need to practice the Sharah for the night. While it would have felt productive to do so, there is really only so much practicing you can do before it begins to lose its calming touch. So, instead of succumbing to the habitual need to perform the Sharah ad nauseam, I walked the city and spoke it instead.

I created sentences that described the graceful walking of a cat, slinking across a tightrope—the minimal flaps of a bird's wing in full flight. Just a few days ago, I had scaled a wall with almost no effort, just speaking the words of ascension.

Now, I tried to understand just how well I could move, in the context of the urban landscape. And understand I did. I had only really practiced the lengths of the Sharah in the fields near Mayer's little home, now I was scaling buildings with little more effort than it would take me to fly across a flat plane—the pure efficiency of the Sharah's movements, along with the inherent shifting that came along with it and micromanagement of my kinetic energy allowed me to pull stunts that clearly defied gravity.

It was a fun distraction, really. I didn't particularly need the practice to do these stunts, being capable of speaking the Sharah so naturally all the time. It gave me the time to think about some more aspects of my power in general.

It seemed that I was more powerful within a place of hearth, socially at least. Maybe it was obvious to state, but with how my powers were really just handed to me by Gallar, I really knew almost nothing about them. Other than I had a domain, divine power, and was now even more immortal than I was as a Champion, I was left with almost nothing to work with. Divine Pacts were a total surprise, though Gram didn't seem surprised enough to make a big deal out of it. Being able to call on religious greetings without knowing them first?

So, as the sun was once again uncovered by Orisis, I made my way back to the Skinned Lizard, entering without much fanfare and making my way up to my room. I left my suit and shoes to rest for the day, returning to my regular traveller's clothing.

As I entered the dining floor once again, I found it mostly empty, aside from a handful of patrons. Sure, it was a little early in the morning, but I guess it was just a slow day for the Skinned Lizard. I couldn't see either Gehne or Tenra on staff, which meant there must be someone else on staff—seeing as the few patrons here were served.

I sat at one of the tables, content to wait for Rethi and Alena to come down in their own time. But as I waited, it wasn't long before a large man emerged from the door leading into the kitchen. The man, massive by Tiliquan standards, stood at a mighty six foot—his broad shoulders and muscled torso hardly hidden by the light shirt he wore. His scales were a mundane brown with a smattering of a darker brown. Though, what really stood out was the line of damaged, dusky scales tracing from his snout to down below his shirt-line.

"Welcome." He said, his voice a gentle growl that might scare if I couldn't see that he was doing his best to dampen his naturally terrifying voice. Though, when he took another look at me, I could see a small smile build on the wide-mouthed Reptilia. His voice was accented, a heavier tone mixed in with the rest of his speech, an effect not too dissimilar to the African accent.

"You're the guest that has Gehne and Tenra so riled up, aren't you?" He questioned even as he pulled out a seat and delicately sat in the chair that somehow refrained from groaning underneath his weight.

"I'm so talked about already, am I?" I asked, despite knowing full well that Tenra probably couldn't keep his excitable mouth shut to save his life. The Tiliquan's eyes glimmered with amusement, though he restrained himself from laughing.

"You could say that. Though I have to say, it isn't often that I catch Gehne as concerned as I did the night before last." While he was still relatively jovial, there was a small amount of warning and apprehension in his voice—though I guess that meant that Gehne had kept that little encounter to herself.

"A fault on my part, I assure you. Thankfully, I was able to clear it up with her not long afterwards." I felt a strange twist of emotions from the man, a slight surprise coming to the surface. He scrunched his brow heavily, making his already intimidating face even more severe.

"You… tried to court her?"

Well, I can't say that I expected that. I coughed gracefully with surprise, returning to the man with an awkward smile.

"Ah, no. I didn't try to court her." I paused for a moment, thinking whether it was appropriate to as my next words, but decided to go with it anyways, "Though, that isn't to say that she would be undeserving—as forward a statement as it might be." I grinned wryly at the war-like Tiliquan man as his face scrunched in a mixture of a few different emotions in small quantities.

"You find the Reptilia attractive? That is quite odd for your race, no?"

"Is it?" I asked thoughtfully, though the man just shrugged his wide shoulders, "I have only just met the Reptilia and understand little of the relations between them and the humans here. You might say that I'm an outsider in that sense." He brought up a clawed finger and tapped at his chin idly, a calculated calm regaining control over his emotional state. He was quite the man of emotional control, it seemed.

"I find you to be an enigma, guest." He said finally, though the words held no hostility, there was a decent amount of interest within them, "You appear one day within a Reptilian owned establishment, give good impressions to the employees and customers, enough that I heard about it. You both worry and interest Gehne, you come in with a suit worth more than most of what I own." He stopped, his eyes suddenly becoming as sharp as a blade, piercing straight into me—the slitted eyes narrowing ever further.

"Not to mention the whispers of a man dancing across rooftops within Shed's territory, the man in a strange suit making a stop at the Skink last night." I didn't react with my posture, an instinctive understanding washing over me. I just smiled gently, careful to not part my lips at the man.

I suffered under his gaze for a while, letting him stare at me as much as he wanted. I could see the expectation of my cracking underneath the hood of his calmed emotions, though when I didn't—there was a measure of pleasant surprise within him, almost akin to respect.

"Now," he continued, voice quieter still, "it's quite odd that a man walks into my little inn with a warrior's gait. Given all that information, of course." I quirked an eyebrow, genuine surprise making an appearance on my face.

"A warrior's gait? I wasn't aware that I had one."

"You have one, it is unmistakable. Your movements flow with a practiced ease that only comes from being a dancer or a warrior, and where I am from, there is very little difference." He spoke with such surety that I couldn't help but admire it. I settled on an amused shrug.

"I dabble, I must confess." The Tiliquan scoffed, sounding almost like a lion chuffing, though an even sharper sound. He squared me up with his eyes, something that Rethi and Mayer had done thousands of times.

"If you only dabble, you must think me a toddler." I looked over the muscled and clearly trained man—his physique head and shoulders above the rest of the naturally muscled Tiliquans.

"You're a warrior yourself, probably quite good at being one, I'd imagine." He snorted.

"Once." I rolled my eyes as I repeated the word back to the man silently.

"I know a man, a warrior, much older than both of us that would scoff at that." The Tiliquan grinned slyly but didn't elaborate.

"Maximilian Avenforth, or just Max." He nodded shortly in lieu of a handshake.

"Tek. I appreciate the shortening of your name, it sounds almost Tiliquan. Powerful."

"I suppose so. My name is good at being both formal and informal when I want it to be." Tek nodded sagely, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Many Tiliquan and Gek find our names to be a little lacking in the context of human names and last names. We had tribal names once, that served as a family name as you have—yet we have abandoned those, along with our tribes."

"Why not create a new one? Establish your own tribe within the city and use it to form a community of Reptilia, or at least Tiliquans." He stretched his neck from side to side, the light popping of his spine rung out as he thought.

"That seems easy, except that Shed will take it as an act of war. The Reptilia are afraid of Shed and his gang of fools, and it'd put too many people in danger to try that. The best we have at the moment is this little inn. Here its neutral territory, even Shed's strongest flunkies leave us be." I eyed the man.

"In no small part to you, I'd assume?" He chuckled but didn't bother answering. I wondered where this conversation was going. It started with the genuine interest, along with the accusation of basically telling me 'I know what you're doing', but apart from that, neither of us are budging. I decided to extend an olive branch, getting tired of waiting out the political talk.

"This politicking of yours seems very unlike the image you give off, Tek." I let the statement sit for a while, neither of us overtly reacting, "What is it that you want to know?" I asked finally. I felt the slight relief in the man, maybe a small worry that I'd get offended or try something stupid.

"I want to know what you're doing, riling up the gangs. A human frolicking around Shed's districts could be dangerous, for you and for Haedar Kout and his people. They don't know who you are yet, but they will soon, when the people I get info from finally end up leaking to someone other than me." I stared at him, though without any challenge in my eyes.

"And why would I care what Kout and Shed are up to?" I ask dangerously, though we both knew that it was really just a bluff sentence.

"Because if they find out who you are, they'll go after your people, and I don't know if the Skinned Lizard could protect them from that. If they really want you, of course." Well, I imagine that it'd be a bad day for someone who tried to go up against Rethi. Though, even if we'd been teaching Alena bits and pieces about fighting, she was still pretty weak in a confrontation. Though, if she was willing to, she could easily tear apart someone with a touch.

"Well, I guess I should let you in on the secret then." I grinned and the Tiliquan man, despite his general stoic body language, leaned in towards me as I teased the next sentence through my lips. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

The look on the Tiliquan's face was probably worth it.

"You aren't trying something?" He said, his voice low and dangerous—though it was more to hide his disbelief than to intimidate.

"Nope. In fact, I've only learned of the gangs last night, at the… Skink, you said?" Tek nodded curiously, "Before then we were only here for a few days, but I'm feeling like I could maybe get my hands into something here, if I wanted to. Of course, I could just pick up the bags and horses and be on my way, but that would be a little boring, wouldn't it?" I smiled smarmily, but the musclebound man almost didn't seem to notice my theatrics. He was staring down into the wooden table we sat around, his eyes searching for something in the grained wood.

"Tonight, after Orisis has hidden the sun for three hours, come into the kitchen and through to the back room." He said quietly, quietly enough for none of the very few patrons to hear. I nodded easily, feeling a little excitement as I realised I was being pulled into a conspiracy of sorts.

"I'll be bringing along my companions." I said simply, giving no room for argument. Tek pause for a second before shrugging slightly.

"If you feel they are trustworthy. I will bring out the last order you had for breakfast in a moment's time." I nodded, and let the man leave the table behind, disappearing back into the kitchen once more.

I sat alone at my table for a while, just thinking about the interesting turn of events for the day. Every day in this city seemed to progress me even further towards something else, a total difference to the massive spans of time where nothing happened in Mayer's road town. It was invigorating and endlessly exciting, truly making me wonder just what I could get myself into while I was here and, perhaps, what I could change.

"Master Max." Rethi spoke as he plopped himself down at the table, giving me a dry look. He hadn't escaped my attention as he had come down the stairs, but he had made his way over here fast.

"Enjoy your day with Oscar and Alena, Rethi?" I asked sarcastically, though the boy's expression was so dry it could start a drought in a rainforest. I could only laugh at the boy, letting myself drift into the beginning of yet another day in this city. Rethi snorted with heatless derision.

"I hate you." He mumbled under his breath, only forcing me to chuckle longer, and a little louder.


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 67: Meeting

The day had been a short one, as it tended to be when we spent most of it training.

Rethi and I were so accustomed to training that the hours easily flew away when we did so, though it was less so for Alena, who looked as if she'd been run over by a pair of horses. It was a necessary evil, however. Especially now that I Rethi and I didn't have to hold back on training her so she could travel for the day.

Alena was weak physically, not aided by her lack in stature in comparison to her boyfriend and I. She also had even less of an inclination towards hand-to-hand fighting than I did, which might be saying something. I had overcome my lack of innate 'talent' with sheer time investment, but Alena hardly had the same luxury as I did.

I decided that teaching her the full Sharah was a fool's errand, the amount of time before you'd see real payoff was just too great for it to be effective the way we needed it to. Instead, I broke it down into simplified movements, ones that would allow you to get the majority of movements down but leave you with many edge cases where instinct would have to fill in the gaps.

Rethi did the same with teaching her combat, being a much better teacher in the martial arts than I was. Thankfully, with our intense and strict training method, she advanced quickly. Within only six hours of training, she was capable of running from threats much better than before, and was even able to get in some cheap shots on an enemy if she absolutely had no choice.

Rethi's discontent with me had melted over the course of the day as he started to find the humour in it like I did. It was fun to joke and banter with Rethi, and despite his best efforts in staying 'professional', he wasn't capable of withholding his own barbed tongue.

But it wasn't long until the day was over, and evening was falling. Alena was tired and sore from the intensity of the training, and Rethi and I both knew that pushing her further would only serve as a form of torture. Though, I almost wanted to see if I could push her to the point where she'd consider using her life shifting on herself—a taboo topic as far as Alena was concerned.

"Alright!" I exclaimed to my two companions, standing in the rapidly darkening field just outside the south-western city limits. They turned to me with a raised eyebrow, the almost Pavlovian response to any of my theatrics.

"So, today I managed to get a little meeting set up with some... interesting folks." I grinned at the immediately warry expressions, "They may or may not be interested in upturning the political landscape of Crossroads." Alena groaned instantly, even before Rethi could fully process my words.

"Seriously, Max?" She said, her tone incredulous, "We're already going around and destabilizing cities because you feel like it? I know you're a Champion and stuff but come on." Rethi took a moment, but he nodded along with the sentiment. I shrugged lackadaisically in response.

"We have to start somewhere. If we decide to move towards the north, we get into the Brauhm Empire's politics, and if we go to the east we get slavedrivers and worse. This is the only place we have before it gets much hairier than what we could find here. Probably, anyways."

The couple chewed on that for a moment, and Alena was first to speak.

"Well, I can't really say that it doesn't make some sort of sense, but I can't do shadowy politicking when I'm like this." She gestured to the general state of her body, barely managing to stay upright with the quaking in her legs. I waved a hand in response, dismissing her informally.

"I don't really want to have you mixed up in this too much anyways. You're a healer and that should be your main focus. This is mine, for the moment. Rethi," I turned my gaze to the boy, "won't have much choice, however. This will probably be a mainstay of our lives from here on out."

Rethi and Alena shared a look, Rethi's a stalwart conviction and Alena's a quiet plea, but Alena gave in after only a few seconds with a sigh.

"Alright then," Rethi said, his voice the reliable and calm tone it usually was, "when do we meet?" I looked up at the sky and judged it at around five hours. With a quick trip to take his girlfriend back to the Skinned Lizard, Rethi returned and we began our own training to fill the time—interspersed with conversation.

Time ticked by quickly before it was time, and we were once again standing before the Skinned Lizard's doors, ready to enter this shadowy conversation that I may be overhyping in my mind, only a little. It only took a few purposeful strides for Rethi and I to enter the door, through the kitchen and into the back room that Tek had told me about.

"Welcome." Tek's deep voice rung out as Rethi and I walked into the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind us. Inside the room was warm and cosy—a small fire in the corner of the room crackled, spewing any smoke into a chimney that was built around it.

"Thank you for having us," I smiled, the expression coming easily to my face, "I didn't think that I warranted such a crowd." I looked around the room, my eyes touching the face of each person within. Tek sat at the opposite end of a fairly large, square table, his posture now unrestricted by the limitations of a service worker. His aura bled with trained might, not unlike Mayer when he wanted to be imposing. Sitting to his right was the blue skinned Gek, Gehne, and to his left was Tenra, the young Tiliquan who brought out the food.

However, there was another Gek sitting at the table. Brown skinned and clearly not the athletic sort, with as close to a paunch of fat as I think a Gek could really form, the small Gek's eyes darted between Rethi and I, dancing with interest and nervousness.

With a practiced grace, Rethi prepared a chair for me to sit in, and I followed along easily. Any show of power here would be a boon to my positioning in this conversation, though I did feel a small satisfaction in the sandy haired boy's mind—finally getting to use the manners he had been drilled on by Mayer.

"You're a new player in town, Max. Regardless of how long you stay." Tek responded, his expression and tone lacking any joviality. This was serious business, and I changed slightly to reflect that.

"And you'd rather I didn't go around poking anthills with reckless abandon?" Tenra snorted but was shut up when no-one else in the room laughed.

"Let me make some formal introductions," Tek said calmly, ignoring my question entirely, "I am Tek, once a warrior of a powerful Tiliquan tribe. Gehne," he nodded slightly to his right, "is from Vahla, escaping the Reptilia gangs and slavers there. Tenra is a young Tiliquan from one of the other Tiliquan tribes who I've taken under my care. Finally, that," he said with a note of distaste in his voice, "is Venn. Our information broker and the man we pay to not go to Shed with our information." The aforementioned Gek, totally unperturbed by the unflattering introduction, stood from his spot at the table and thrust his hand forth in greeting.

"If you need information, I have it or can get it. If you need something found, I can find it. I'm Venn, Crossroads' best info-dealer." He spoke with exuberance, much like a car salesman would to a prospective buyer. Of course, I could see underneath all his layers, and I could see the greed. I would have been rather unimpressed with Tek if he were all greed, because underneath even that greed there was a tiny part of him that was using that greed to justify him doing something good.

"I'll call on you if I need your services, which I may very well require after this." I spoke slowly and confidently to the little Gek, not letting his act overwhelm. With a firm shake of the man's hand, he returned to his seat quietly, fidgeting as he looked between myself and Tek.

"So," I said, breaking the ice, "what's your goal?" I didn't leave the conversation in the realm of unsurety for long, cutting right to the heart of it, letting the natural power that I assumed as Demigod of the Hearth guide me in the direction I wanted.

"Peace for those who run from war." Tek said simply, and I knew it was the truth. "Much of Crossroads' population is built off humans and Gek that have fled Vahla and the Brauhm Empire, and Tiliquans that have fled the western tribes. We want peace."

"Peace. It sounds so simple but is almost impossible." I said, tone serious but with a playful note hiding within.

"If it were so easy," Gehne said quietly, "we would have done it already. But we don't have the might to do so, or the resources that those who run it all do." Her tone wasn't abrasive, but it was far from the gentle tone that she held casually. It came from a different place, one of hurt and pain, of betrayal and callousness. The wash of emotions I felt as I dug deeper into Gehne's psyche was one of the times that I wished that I could simply turn my empathy off. But I couldn't, as it was the price for power.

"Indeed. So, you need a heavy hitter. Someone who can do what you can't. Though, I must say, I don't know the state of your current position in all of this. Care to illuminate?" My eyes glanced across the rest of the table, and I could tell that Rethi's eyes did so in synch.

"Our general state is poor. In all reality, we have the skills but not the means." Tek said calmly, though his eyes narrowed in thought, "We have a good information broker on our side, and a warrior in Tenra and I." He noticeably left out Gehne, which none of the other party overtly reacted to. Though, underneath I could see that her skillset was secretive, probably something that Gehne herself had told the others to not reveal. It didn't make it any less obvious to me.

"So, two men who can fight, a mystery woman, and a man who has his ear to the ground." I said, putting on my best unconvinced face. "You are playing a dangerous game here, Tek. I don't doubt your skills as a warrior, in fact you remind me of the man who taught me how to fight, but you obviously cannot hack-and-slash your way through this problem." The words cut deep, Tenra looking specifically wounded. He turned his face away from me, but I saw the grimace of pain on his scaly lips.

"Precisely. But we know a little about you." Tek began, his eyes widening and the slits of his cornea pulling tight, "You are a priest of the Hearth Court." I nodded, knowing that Gehne had likely told of our little interaction, or Tek had inferred a lot and was shooting in the dark.

"I am."

"Are you a Peace Bringer?" I tilted my head to the side, a confused smile on my lips. At my reaction, the man felt a little dismay in his chest, but I powered onwards.

"I do not know if I am or am not, until you tell me what a Peace Bringer is." The other Reptilia in the room clenched their powerful jaws, a mutual display of apprehension or even tentative hope.

"A Peace Bringer, they are Hearth God faithfuls, or Nature God sometimes. They are purveyors of conversation and discussion. They routinely involve themselves in kingdom and political business, usually to stop them from going to war, or to stop one from continuing." Even Tek looked a little hopeful, though I could see the dread in his gut growing as the moments of my non-reaction passed.

"Well, I've never done so myself." There was an instant sigh of disappointment. Even Gehne, who had been extraordinarily stoic this whole time, was now visibly dismayed. "But, I could certainly try my hand. I am somewhat gifted, in that sense."

"Somewhat gifted?" Tenra spat bitterly, the nice man who had talked to us after bringing us food was gone. What remained was a scared and wounded kid, desperate for anything that could right the wrongs of the world around him.

Rethi, however, was not having it. The boy, who stood to my right, took a step forward and leaned over the table ever so slightly. A slight golden glow surrounded him, like it had for Mayer at times, his face was that of a lazy worker in the midday sun, but it carried far more power than that. His eyes flashed at the spiteful Reptilia across from us.

"He was being humble." Rethi said quietly, his tone not so much a warning, but a declaration. The rest of the room gulped a little before I raised a hand and touched Rethi's shoulder.

"And he's being protective." I pulled the boy from his posturing and smiled warmly at the wary group. "I'll cut the bullshit. I'm good at this, and I'm in. What do we do now?"


A/N: A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; Thomas H., TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron Marisa E.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 68: Socialites

Apparently, fate had decided that I wasn't going to be able to stay out of my suit for long. It was my only piece of clothing that you'd even remotely consider 'high class', even if suits were relatively mundane back on Earth. Here, though, owning a proper suit as nice as my own was a massive social statement.

Not only was it about money, but it was also about the power it represented, especially with it being a stranger derivative of the formal dress of the day. It signified that I was willing to push boundaries, to defy what the status quo might be, but also not so much that I was willing to abandon it all together; that was a different social power altogether if you could use it right.

The talk with the small collective that comprised the staff of the Skinned Lizard was enlightening. Once we had got into the nuts and bolts of the social dynamics or Crossroads, things became far more interesting for me. Lauka knew a thing or two about the gangs, and I'm sure she understood their social webs better than Tek or I did, though the Gek informant, Venn, probably knew a fair amount himself. Screw paying him for it though, that would ruin half the fun of learning!

Tek knew far more about the social web of the upper class, or really the links between the officials and the people with deep enough pockets to pay them off to be as corrupt as they are. Of course, at the top of the officials there was a whole conglomerate of people lining their pockets with the proceeds that come from slavery.

Apparently, much of this information came from him just being a hired hand, lifting boxes and unpacking carriages, which he then moved into being hired by officials to help move boxes during inspections. Apparently, the sheer number of slaves he had seen common merchants bring through from Vahla had been astounding, most of them trying to do so without sweetening the deal for the officials. If they weren't being paid to be nice the officials, so concerned with the 'peace of Crossroads' were actually quite violent. Who would have guessed?

So, what was I up to? Simple, I was fishing.

Not in the traditional sense, of course. You don't go fishing in a nice suit unless you're a psychopath, but fishing in the social sense.

The crew had been remarkably unhelpful in telling me what I should do. Probably because none of them had even thought they would manage to 'convince' someone with any social prowess to join their scrappy band of revolutionaries. There were basically no plans because no plans were possible, but with me here plans were more than possible.

Hence, I sat in a nice bar in the northern most section of the city. I hadn't gone exploring in the wealthier districts prior to today, but it didn't take me long to find the spot I was looking for. My natural empathy was, unsurprisingly, extremely helpful in finding where I wanted to be, or rather who I wanted to be around.

I had scoured the main streets but most of the bars, even on the high end of things, were still catering towards travellers. Extraordinarily rich travellers, of course, but travellers nonetheless. Sure, there was likely a certain amount of political power that you'd have to own to be in places like that within Crossroads, and maybe even a few local faces would make short appearances there, but that seemed like looking for a saltwater fish in a lake.

Quickly I had resorted to calmly wandering the streets of the northern sectors, keeping my empathy feelers out. It had been a skill that I'd slowly gained proficiency in over time, especially as I very slowly got better at utilising ether and shifting. An hour or so later, I managed to find what I was looking for.

There was a specific set of emotions that defined a club with exclusivity. Snobbishness, sure. There was a lot of that around these parts, though. What really defined the exclusive club in this sort of area was the presence of openness. You have to understand, the pressure on the upper class was extremely high, having their positions constantly assailed from every direction; politically, financially, emotionally. Thus, if there is a public place that displays any degree of openness, then you're in the right spot.

And boy was I in the right spot. As I walked to the door of the establishment, a grand, hulking thing that had its own bulky doorman, I washed my empathy over the building gently and felt the distinctly young minds inside. A club for the youth of the rich and powerful.

"One moment, sir." The bulky doorman said, dressed in a well-made set of clothing, though purposefully a little dour in colour. "Do you have a recommendation from one of your peerage tonight?" I looked into the man's face with a critical eye.

"You doubt my station?" I asked simply. The man's eyebrow twitched, mostly because it was the fakest sounding answer you could give in a situation like this. The only thing stopping him from knocking me out was the flatness of my tone.

"Of course not, good sir. I simply have the confidence of your peers inside that I would keep those who wish to intrude out." The doorman spoke very carefully, his brow furrowing with concentration as he spoke. I could only imagine what bullshit some shitty kid has tried to pull with his father's influence. It only takes being burnt once for the overly polite and lawyerlike speech to make an appearance.

"Ah, I understand." The doorman, while entirely unchanged visually, let out an internal sigh of relief. "However, I'm afraid my father has organised meeting between me and a client. It would be very disrespectful of their time if I merely left now, would it not?" I asked gently, making the sigh quickly turn from relief to a groan.

"Sir, I can't let you in. Business is not facilitated inside of the Brightspark." There was no signage on the outside of the building, so the name was news to me. However, I changed tactics a little, giving the man a slight look of condescension. We both knew that business not being facilitated here was horseshit and I was calling him out on it. I closed my eyes for a moment and sighing with grace—when I opened my eyes again, I let my face go dead, using my eyes as a piercing weapon.

"I want you to listen very carefully to what I say next." I stated calmly, my voice staying at an even inside volume. There was a little jolt of panic in the man's mind, but it passed as I spread out my aura around me, subsuming the man into my domain. He nodded affirmatively, unsure at how he could feel threatened and safe at the same moment.

"My father," I placed as much 'subtle' emphasis on that word as possible, "set up a meeting with a client," just as much emphasis again, "so that I may provide them with services. It would be awfully bad if I were to miss this meeting."

It didn't take much of that sentence for realisation to dawn on the man's face. Of course, he had no idea what services I would be offering, or who my 'father' was, but the simple doorman wasn't being paid enough to deal with the backlash that came along with any of the implied possibilities.

Of course, I didn't know either, but he didn't have to know that.

"I see, sir." He said woodenly, before hesitating a moment. He had probably been ordered and been paid a lot of money to stand guard here, but not enough to risk life or limb for the job. "I will let you in, then,"

I nodded easily, as if the action was preordained instead of manufactured in the moment. The man didn't keep me waiting, opening the heavy door just enough to let myself and him through, and leading me towards the main room.

I say the main room because there was multiple, the main room having many people in it, all of them getting hopelessly wasted amongst their same age peers. However, I had higher aspirations than that.

I coughed gently, pulling the attention of the doorman who wanted as little to do with me as physically possible. As he looked at me, I pointed upwards towards the high roof above us both. A simple gesture for a simple request.

'Take me to the other rooms.'

I was taken up a few flights of stairs, each staircase leading to a new floor of wondrous architecture. Every floor was a slight improvement on the last, though the floor that I was aiming for was the fourth. Upon arriving up the last flight of stairs, the lavish fourth floor was a grand improvement on the second and third, filled with red carpets, astounding carvings in simple wooden supports, paintings, lanterns, and everything else that made a space as beautiful as this.

The doorman, now extremely uncomfortable even being here, nervously looked at me and towards the next flight of stairs, terrified that I might choose to go up even further. There was no doubt why, there were two more floors in which there were only a few handfuls of people, maximum. The very top floor only housed one person.

To go up would be truly setting foot in the extremely exclusive areas, the kind of place that you needed actual recognition to penetrate. Trying to get myself into the fifth floor would probably lead to there being a death warrant on my head.

"That'll be enough." I said simply, trying not to smile at the man's sudden relief. I slipped a hand into my pocket and pulled three bronze hum, which was a sizeable enough tip for the doorman. After a mumbled pleasantry, he quickly made his way back down the stairs, possibly preparing to run for the hills if someone came back out looking for his head.

I didn't dally about from there, making a beeline down the warm and luxurious hallway and into the fourth floor's entertainment room. It goes to show just how exclusive this floor is, because as I opened the door and walked inside with a practiced grace, every set of eyes turned towards me.

Initially, the eyes were filled with a curiosity, looking for a familiar face, as most that come to this location are. So imagine the surprise when a man walks in, a face no one has seen before, in a suit that is odd and 'exotic', but with the ease and confidence of someone who belongs?

The room was full of truly luxuriant chairs, the main colour of the room being a warm red and the chairs following suit. Each of the room's inhabitants, somewhere around forty, were sitting in their own cliques—aside from a few who flittered easily from one group to the next. My presence in the room brought a whole new dynamic into play.

As soon as I sat in an open booth in the middle of the room, an area mostly barren due to the private and intimate nature of the venue, the quietest gossiping in the world began. Sometimes I forget just how powerful my powers were socially, being a mix of a natural empath and a literal Demigod of the Hearth, but now my powers shone as bright as they ever had.

Each word, or even gesture, made about me somehow reached my recognition. I didn't need to turn to look at the man in the corner who gave dangerous look at another man to his left, one far more trained in the sword than he is. I didn't need to listen hard to hear the whispers of the girls in the corner who were cross referencing social circles to see if anyone of their friends, or their friend's friends, knew of me. They didn't.

Another moment of attention was when I looked towards the bartender, a slightly larger but jovial looking man, and flicked my hand casually while making eye contact. It was a small and exceedingly general gesture, but one that had formed in this little club long ago, one that simply meant, 'Surprise me.'

It wasn't a shock that I knew the hand signal that the bar used, but it was enough to raise eyebrows, making me an even more interesting target. I could feel the eyes of the particularly keep socialites already training themselves on me, but I wanted to remove some of the more predatory attention. Attracting that sort of attention would only lead to a fight of some sort, and that would get me nowhere good.

As the bartender smoothly completed my drink, he walked over to my table with an air of dignity and quietly placed the drink on my table. It was a multicoloured mess of liquids within a very square glass. It looked thoroughly unappetising, but just as with the small gesture from earlier, my link to the Hearth fed me all sorts of interesting information. With a casual flick of my hand, I grabbed the long spoon from the arrangement of cutlery on the table and stirred quickly, but without hitting the sides of the glass.

While the mess of liquid quickly blended and slowly began to sparkle, I spoke to the bartender next to me with unguarded volume.

"A man of the Hearth, I see." I stated. The man rose an eyebrow, though the surprise inside his chest was unmistakable. He almost stammered but reigned in the surprise in much the same way as Tek would have.

"I was not aware that my faith was obvious, or common knowledge, sir." I shook my head with a mock dismay, lifting the still mixing drink and sipping from its swirling contents. The liquid fizzed gently inside of my mouth; the cacophony of tastes akin to a what an orchestra is for sound.

"How could it not be, when you serve Ehra's own cocktail?" I took another sip as I eyed the man to my side. He was surprised beyond belief and did the best he could to keep it in, but it was enough for the army of elite socialites within the room to see the emotion.

"You… know of Him?" He said, his tone hushed. I did and I didn't. To me Ehra, and even Lauka's Kaliha, were like much older siblings. As if I had heard about them and their exploits my entire life, being well into their adulthood by the time I was born, but enough to know their names and roughly who they are.

"I know, and am friends, with many." I replied, which was almost a boldfaced lie, if I didn't consider the entirety of the Hearth Court. The bartender took a shaky intake of breath, steeling himself to cross the boundaries that his station would allow.

"And he still lives on?" The man said, a note of hopefulness colouring his words. I took another sip before responding, tasting the change as the ingredients separated into its splotchy blend of colours. A thousand tastes in one drink, all depending on how hard you stirred it, or if you stir it at all. A drink inspired directly by a God himself.

"Why are you still in this little room, serving drinks to the not-quite-nobility of Crossroads, Fehlen?" My voice was filled with that power that always reared its head when the Hearth empowered my actions. Of course, I had the distinct feeling that Ehra was putting forth his own power at this moment.

"I– what?" The man said, dumbstruck. I had called him by his true name of course, whatever that name might, or might not mean. It was simply the name he was hiding under the guise of another.

"Ehra is alive, if slowly wasting away as his followers die and new ones lose their faith in a waning God. Maybe it's time that you do something about that." I turned an eye to the bartender and knew that it was glowing with its golden fire. The man gulped, pushing down the wave of emotion as he understood just what had happened to him in the most unlikely of places.

I didn't particularly like being used by a God I barely knew as a way to get a message across to one of his followers, and give them a quest to rejuvenate his following, but that God was a brother—however estranged—and as Fehlen stood beside my table, he came to his own conclusion. He bowed to me deeply, and then strode out of the room with a newfound purpose. The beginning of a lifelong devotion to Ehra, God of the Soothing Soul.

The room, understandably, was in utter shock. I doubt they'd seen so much emotion on the face of the bartender under any other circumstance. What it did do, however, was kill the interest of the small-time socialites—giving them the impression that I was way out of their league—and only leaving those who had no reason to think that they weren't in my league.

So, when a beautiful young lady approached me, I knew she was a cut above the others. With skin far darker than I'd ever seen on a person, most of the contours of her body clearly displayed instead by the reflection of the soft lighting, it only leant further to her mystique. Her dress, a much lighter purple, fit her well and the wide, white smile broke her powerfully featured face with genuine cheer.

She sat herself at the table without introduction, letting me know straight away that she has social power even in this room of the elite, which was either a bluff or was something she actually had. The inner confidence told me that the striking woman wasn't bluffing, though. Not even a little.

"I haven't seen you around town, nor do I know anyone who knows you. And I personally know almost everyone, for better or for worse." Her smile never faltered, even as her decisive words cut right to the heart of the issue. A woman after my own heart. She wasn't done, I could feel more words within her—ready to nail me to the cross—so I stirred my drink again, making the very last of it spin with far more speed than the much larger body of it ever had.

"So, either you managed to get an invitation from someone up there, or…" She pointed upwards towards the fifth floor and trailed off dramatically, letting her stark white eyes almost glow against the contrast of her skin. I lifted the cup to my mouth, quickly imbibing the last of the drink, and basking in the astounding mess of tastes that my brother had helped to inspire. She waited patiently for me to finish, so I decided to be courteous and cut right to the chase, just as she had done.

"Oh no, I conned my way in here, of course."


A/N: A massive thanks to my two 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! And a gargantuan thanks to my two 20-dollar Patrons Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 69: Fair Enough

The woman, skin far darker than the more common ebony of my world, leant back in the chair opposite me. She was taken aback that I'd admit to conning my way in here so easily, something that could very easily land me in a very dangerous bit of hot water. I looked mournfully down at my drink, the last of it already within my stomach, the afterglow of the taste still warming my mouth fantastically.

"And how would you have done that?" She asked, her voice exact and decisive. She idly pushed back an intruding section of her densely curled hair from her face, letting her piercing dark eyes lay into me.

"Oh, just some eluding to being from the darker parts of this little society, then a quick made-up story of how I'm required to meet someone within the Brightspark." She eyed me suspiciously, though curiousness won out. Thankfully, we were fairly isolated from the rest of the room's inhabitants, and no-one had good enough hearing to actually pull the words from our mouths or lipread.

"You posed as a criminal?" I nodded

"An assassin, most probably." The suspicion grew another notch, dampening the natural curiousness lingering in her chest, "Though, I would be a terrible assassin if I needed to convince the doorman to get into a building." I hummed thoughtfully before standing and walking over to the bar, walking behind it, and scanning my eyes across the various liquors and wide array of ingredients. Of course, I knew basically nothing about the alcohol here, and even less about the standard drinks. I'm not even sure if I'd easily be able to recreate the mainstay cocktails from Earth.

Regardless, I let my eyes wander over to the girl that still sat at my table and grinned, taking the brunt of her suspicion on my chin. I leant on the exceedingly clean bar top, pointing towards it with a raised eyebrow.

"Want anything?" I called, and the girl's suspicion only rose further. Granted, it wasn't like I was actively trying to reassure her that I wasn't an assassin. The more questioning she did about who I was, the more she thought about me at all, meaning I won no matter what. After a tense moment of internal struggle, she nodded, and I smiled.

Crouching behind the bar, I looked at the dazzling array of liquids and sighed.

"Ehra, you're going to have to do me a solid here. Favours for favours." I whispered to thin air, but I received a light response. It was hesitant, most likely because the God had used a fair deal of his own power to make contact with even me, despite my requisite Demigodhood. I rolled my eyes at the tentativeness of the God.

"If you don't, I'll go tell Oldest Brother." There was an immediate chatter of responses from my link to the Hearth, a large amount of the Gods who seemed to have nothing better to do were probably doing the equivalent to laughing at Erha. 'Oldest Brother' in this situation was Gallar, and I can't imagine that being tattled on to the Lord God of your Court was much different than tattling to a parent.

With as close to a begrudging sigh as could be expressed, Erha flooded me with a moment of inspiration. All of a sudden, I knew the names, heritages, histories, and even the parings for all these alcohols. It was by that inspiration and pure instinct that I pulled bottles and ingredients off of the low shelves, placing them all onto the table in a clear, sequenced order.

Within only moments I had two drinks sitting in front of me, the intense understanding leaving me just after I had completed them. The Soothing Soul could mean many things as a God, with the possibility to be part of almost any given Court depending on how that concept materialised. In the case of Erha, it was food and drink, the moment of pure bliss as you ate something that spoke to you on another level, separate from the material altogether.

I lifted the glasses the way I remembered to from Ehra's inspiration and walked myself back to the table. The entire room was surprised or intrigued. Most of them knew a thing or two about preparing alcohol, and many of them were good enough, or knowledgeable enough, that it the little show I'd put on had been impressive. It was close to the skill level of the bartender that they knew and were comfortable with, but that bartender was just a bartender in their eyes.

"Two drinks; one for the lady and one for myself." I smiled gently as I placed a smaller glass in front of her, a murky white colour close to the visual appearance of lemonade. It sparkled gently, roiling with what almost seemed like glitter on its inside as the various liquids inside interacted with each other. The drink, despite still being a cocktail, had almost no alcohol in it whatsoever.

My own drink was a darker, almost velvety colour, very reminiscent of cola with a more prominent red hue to it.

"Have you been a bartender long?" She asked, declining to drink, holding a quiet suspicion that I'd poisoned it despite mixing it in front of her, and everyone else's eyes.

"As long as I need to be. Drink from it, I swear you'll like it." I grinned as I took a swig from my own glass. From what I could remember of the inspiration, these were both commoner's drinks, just made with better things. As I sipped from my own, even with my neutral stance towards alcohol, it felt distinctively home-y. The woman across from me did the same, in the end, unable to hold out without looking rude or breaking the atmosphere she wanted to hold. Although she was the picture of being in control, natural empathy cut away the mask easily, allowing me to see behind the curtains on almost everyone's motives.

"Good, isn't it?" I said as she sipped the drink, a refreshing drink that many sailors make when they're coming to the last of their harder drink. She internally agreed with me, but the mask stayed on firmly.

"Refreshing," she stated dully before moving on, "but if you're here, you have goals. Whether that is the dirty business you pretended you were dealing, or something else entirely, I want to know. So tell me, man of mystery. Who are you?"

"Good question." I teased, talking a long sip of my drink while I dangled the continuation of my sentence in front of her nose, "and who might you be, so I can choose who I am?" I let my eyes dance with mirth as the woman in front of me let just a small crease of frustration appear around her nose.

"Valeri Ephars. Daughter of Jitah Ephars." Of course, the names meant nothing to me.

"Helpful." I intoned sarcastically as I gestured for her to go on. She scrunched her brow as I took another long sip.

"Powerful merchant." She said finally, almost embarrassed to have to break it down that way. I snorted gently after swallowing my drink.

"And you believe me the criminal?" She gave me a scandalised look, but I rolled my eyes, "Don't even try it, lady. You can bullshit yourselves and your friends into thinking your wealth is all squeaky clean." She wasn't an idiot, so she obviously knew, so she dropped the façade and rolled her own eyes.

"Doesn't mean you have to say it like that." I just grinned before taking another sip.

"You play a no-bullshit social game, young Valeri. It'd be good to be able to play the same game while someone else is your opponent." I shrugged. This little social game was fun, though I doubt I could pull the same strategy with many in this room other than Valeri. The man in the corner, the same one that had been ready to sic his combat-handy friend on me, he probably wouldn't take this conversation very well.

"You can't call me young," she said, a note of amusement in her voice, "I'm almost definitely older than you. At least by a few years." She was right, I was twenty now. At least I think I was, seeing as I'm not sure on the exact days and months since I've been here, so my birthday passed by without me even really realising. Valeri was probably close to her mid-twenties, though I could be wrong.

"I'm basically a priest, I get to act older and wiser. It comes with the field." A glimmer of interest managed to make it through her mask and into her eye.

"A religious man, hm? Is that how you got poor Fehlen to run out of the room like that?" I scoffed at her tone.

"Sure. He's probably pretty happy about it, to be fair. New lease on life and all." I swallowed another mouthful of the delicious drink, "But what interests you so much in faiths?" There was a small hesitation in her hand, a little undisguised quirk that she probably didn't even realise that she had.

"Many think that faith is somewhat uncouth amongst the higher class of Crossroads." It made sense, for churches to be built and funded, the rich had to be invested in the concept of it. If they weren't, then it stayed as its own underground congregation of believers.

"You are of a different mind?" I asked casually, but the woman shrugged.

"My father is of the same mind as everyone else, but I can't help but be allured by the concept." She said guardedly. Interestingly, she was going out on a big emotional limb here. While I'm sure that she was telling the truth, that faith was frowned upon in Crossroads, there were many who had their own personal relationships with faith. Those that followed the Hearth were more clear to me, setting them apart from everyone else easily, but another that follows your specific fail might be hard.

"Your mother?" I guessed, and feeling the metaphorical dart hit the bullseye. She didn't outwardly react but her gut twisted internally.

"Don't you worry your pretty head. I won't be telling anyone. We'll call it a confessional and keep it private." I winked at her over my glass, putting her at ease slightly.

"Are priests even allowed to drink?" She whipped back, tongue lashing with banter.

"I'd be a pretty sad excuse for a Hearth priest if I didn't drink." I responded with a grin, she scoffed but floated a searching question a moment later.

"What God?" A simple question that I don't imagine she got to ask very often.

"The Hearth Court."

"The whole Hearth Court?" She asked disbelievingly, and I just nodded as I enjoyed her reaction.

"The whole Hearth Court, yes." With a flourish of the hand, I grinned spectacularly. "I'm just that good."

"Surely they don't respond to that…" she looked at the shit eating grin emerging on my face and cupped her eyes with her hands, "Oh my God, so many questions."

I hummed thoughtfully as I looked around the lavish room, walls filled with paintings of wars and landscapes and anything in between. I'd certainly gone fishing in the right place, having caught this Valeri girl hook line and sinker, but now it was just a drag. Valeri was going to be touchy about her own personal faith and anything adjacent to it while here, under the pressure of anyone overhearing a personal conversation. She had a lot to lose inside this room, and I really didn't.

I placed my cup down, the last of it having been consumed. In a flourish of movements, I had learned from Rethi's manners training, I bowed pleasantly and offered my hand to the beautiful, dark skinned woman.

"Maybe you can ask me all the questions you want outside of this stuffy little room?" She rose an eyebrow, amusement mixed with suspicion as she flicked her gaze between my outstretched hand and my face.

"I don't even know your name, mystery man."

"Then that's the first question you can ask me, right as we leave this droll little get-together." I put on my best up-myself accent, somehow making the girl giggle despite herself. She rolled her eyes while she did a cost-benefit analysis within her head and came to the distinct conclusion that she didn't give a shit what it said and grabbed my hand in a powerful grip.

In only moments we had walked out of the door, away from the gawking crowd. The surprise of the audience erupted into whispers as we exited smoothly, the woman next to me finding that her heart was beating hard as she pushed herself far outside her own comfort zone.

"Well," I said jovially as we made our way down the stairs with quick steps, "that'll certainly have them talking for a while." Valerie made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.

"God, my father is going to kill me." Though, if she were being honest with herself, her father would be unlikely to even care. I pushed away the sad set of emotions that brought up and continued the excited race towards the front door of the Brightspark.

We raced past pair of younger boys on the second floor who looked downright scandalized that someone of the higher floors would act in such a way, and as we burst out form the heavy wooden doors, we came face to face with a very nervous doorman.

"Good evening, sir!" He said, shaken by my sudden appearance, before his eyes fell on Valeri and widened further, "Ma'am!" I grinned pleasantly, and as I did, the man's face went from shock into a violent blush as his eyes darted between us. I placed a hand on Valeri's back, prompting her remarkably unfatigued form forwards into the labyrinthian streets of Crossroads.

It took a moment for the excitement to wear off and for both of our heads to clear, which is when I realised the conclusion that the doorman might have come to as I burst from the door with Valeri. I let out a bark of laughter with true, unadulterated mirth bubbling to the surface. Valeri's eyes turned on me with a note of shock, her gaze filled with all the questions she clearly wanted to asked me, but were pushed back in the sudden moment.

"Fair warning. I didn't specifically tell that doorman that I was an assassin, just doing some uncouth business, so you may or may not end up with a few rumours circling that you hired a male prostitute." The shocked look widened into one of pure mortification unlike I'd ever seen.

"By the way, the name is Maximilian Avenforth, priest of the Hearth Court and newly titled male prosti–" That earned me a slap across the face with a much more powerful blow that I had expected from the girl. Fair enough.

It was totally worth it though.


A/N: Thank you to my two 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my two 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! A gargantuan thanks to my two 20-dollar Patrons Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 70: Blessed Dreams

"I've never heard your accent before." Valeri said softly after we'd been sitting on a rooftop's edge for a while, greedily taking in the view of the city and the landscape beyond with our eyes as the sun grew brighter while Orisis threatened to snuff out the light.

"Really?" I said a little surprised. No one else had commented on my accent in ages, not since Mayer had asked about it, then Rethi and Alena in turn. She bobbed her head, the deep black and extremely dense hair wobbled floatily on her head as she did.

"Well, I do come from far away, so I guess that's to be expected." She turned to me, giving me a questioning look, though I disarmed the gaze with a small shake of my head. I had to keep that little secret, unfortunately.

"How…" Valeri struggled against her own question, desperately trying to not look too eager for an answer, and also feeling it burning within her chest. "How do you manage so many Gods?"

"I don't." She looked at me uncomprehendingly, "I'm probably not the best example to take from, Valeri. The Hearth Court and I have a very specific relationship that I'm not sure many will be able to hold. I'll need to know a little more before I can make a judgement." I smiled gently, a genuine emotion of warmth blooming in my chest. I don't know why, but I felt so much older than the girl sitting next to me who clearly had a few years on me. She struggled to answer, but just sighed and let the act fall away.

"My mother came here from Veringohs. She found a noble within the Brauhm Empire to marry, good enough for her royal blood." Valeri rolled her eyes, "The royal family in Veringohs is brutal, lots of murdering and conspiracy, so my mother and many of my aunts married out of the family and into others. My uncles are not so lucky." Seems even Veringohs has a dark side to it.

"Veringohs has their own pantheon of Gods, unlike the Brauhm Empire who only serve one. My mother followed a God. Tarania." She paused for a moment after saying the name, looking for any recognition on my face. I didn't know the name, though she spoke it with a strong accent almost similar to French.

"I'm sorry, I don't know of them."

"Her." She corrected lightly, then continued, "Tarania is a Goddess of Might and Strength. Though she is not a warrior." I raised an eyebrow.

"A Goddess of strength but not a warrior." I mused. Interesting, usually the two were effectively exclusive concepts, might almost entirely synonymous with military strength in a world like this, much the same as it was in the period on Earth like the Romans and the Greeks, and many more who were just the same.

"My mother had many stories of her. In one, Tarania's brother Rentara, who is the God of the Earth, was throwing a tantrum because a mountain he made was called ugly by one of his siblings, and he began to quake the earth to destroy it. Tarania went to go see the mountain that her brother had created, and found that was ugly, but that humans lived upon it in peace. They thrived there because of the concave in it that made it look ugly."

Valeri searched the distant rooftops with her eyes, shifting her bottom on the ledge that they were sitting on, legs dangling down the side of the building. I could feel a warm response in my divine energy, a brief recognition of the story within those of the Hearth that were watching.

"When the quaking began, and the mountain split in half to swallow the village whole, Tarania put her hands to the earth and pulled it back together against her brother's wishes. She saved the village and defied her brother to do so. She had Strength."

I sat with the profound story for a moment. It was simple and barebones. I'm sure that Valeri was paraphrasing as well, but it did hold a spark to it. An essence of what a God was, just as a warm tavern held a spark for the Hearth, the drunken jolly of the patrons whistling a tune. It wasn't the same sort of spark, this one being strong and independent, persevering and unquenchable.

"I see. A Goddess of Might, hm?" I mused again and Valeri nodded, looking down at the beautifully manicured hands that lay in her lap. A melancholic emotion swirling inside her chest, hidden beneath the layers.

"She always spoke so highly of Tarania. It makes me wonder why she left Veringohs in the first place. Why she left me here with father if she was only going to go back." I could feel the wound in her chest reopen as she said the sad words, but I let the emotion flow over me—keeping myself from being wrapped up in them.

"Any number of reasons could explain why she left. Any number of reasons could explain why someone might do something they believe is in line with the God they server but extends away from the God's wishes." Valeri sighed with frustration, pursing her pink lips in a pout.

"My mother said that she could speak with Tarania sometimes." She said abruptly, and the Gods of the Hearth who were listening in turned their attention more closely.

"That's an extraordinary feat." I said dully and turned to me with a 'no shit' expression.

"It'd be tantamount to being chosen by Tarania. But I think she lost her connection with Tarania after I was born." Valeri bit at her lip lightly, her emotions a swirling pit of emotion, not much of it really all that solidified. She was working through her past in front of my eyes, but I couldn't really help her with it. I may be able to see it all and work a room, but there weren't any magic words that'd solve someone's own issues.

The closest thing I had done was with Alena, and the moral reasoning for pushing the girl to use a power she was clearly terrified of was shaky at best. However, it did result in her understanding herself and her own power more, which I think is a net benefit for everyone.

"I don't know." I said, catching the girl's gorgeous eyes with mine and smiling sadly, "I couldn't possibly know why your mother did what she did, or why she lost the ability to talk with her God." I shrugged, even as she looked a little disheartened.

"But I don't care about all that. It's all stuff on the sideline, a curiosity to observe before the main show. You have more to tell me, and you're using this to preface it all." Valeri let a flash of anger cross her face. She felt like she was being mocked and goaded, like she had for years prior until she decided to hide her faith. The flash of understanding hit me, and I couldn't help but smile at the girl.

"Ah. You've been blessed, haven't you?" She flinched, but it was too late. The grasp on my hand being a little too tight. If I thought about it in terms of normal human grip strength, she'd have probably broken my hand, or at least given me some mean bruises. She was testing if too was blessed.

"By the way," I said with a half grin, "you might not want to pull the grip thing like you did with me. Any other Hearth blessed would probably just end up with a broken hand." Valeri was lost for words, her jaw hanging slack and a blush somehow making itself visible through her intensely pigmented skin.

"I was just making sure!" She exclaimed, ten different emotions waging war in her gut at once. "Nothing bad happened, so it's fine." I laughed at the grumbling girl before I pushed myself off the ledge while maintaining eye contact with her dark eyes.

Of course, I didn't let myself fall. That'd be stupid. I just walked across the lip of the building casually, openly defying gravity as I did so. The shock on her face and throughout her emotions was delicious, doing an excellent job of wiping the slate of her emotions clean. After a quick sidewards stroll, I hopped back up to the ledge, right next to the wide-eyed girl and whispered in her right ear, having been on the left only moments earlier.

"I might be a bit of a… special case."

She stammered for a second as she looked me dead in the eye like I was some sort of fairy tale creature, "W–what the hell. What kind of shifting even is that?" Her voice was only just barely constrained from yelling, so overwhelmed by the mind-bending display.

"Just a little trick I've been working on recently." I said with a wave of the hand, brushing it off like dust on my suit jacket. Obviously, she wasn't going to fall for the non-attempt at diversion.

"I know some earth shifting and know some experts in air shifting. Nothing I know could let me do that, and they can basically only make themselves run fast." Her piercing eyes were locked with mine, her mind not even registering that our faces were probably only centimetres apart, sitting at an extremely intimate distance.

"And how much do you train a day?" I asked her, and her eyebrow scrunched.

"An hour or two? I work on theory more." I just shrugged lackadaisically.

"I barely do any theory." The bewilderment sprung to her face, "Practice is key. I trained all day every day for the equivalent of years worth of time to be able to do things like these. You'd need to step up big time to match me, kiddo." The slight ribbing at the end made her scowl heartlessly.

"How do you expect me to do that, old man?"

"Prioritize." I said simply, face going dead serious, "You're blessed by a Goddess. I don't know what Tarania wants from you, but you have it easy because you've been blessed and you're stuck here, pussyfooting around on a rooftop with some random boy you just met." I spread my arms wide, forcing her to take in the whole world and bring it into perspective—the pure scale of it all, the majesty of Orisis as it eclipsed the sun, and the landscape as it was showered in the dribbles of light that escaped Orisis' grasps.

"You have all of this to go see, to explore, to find a world in, and you're letting yourself stagnate here despite being given every chance?" I tilted my head to the side as I looked the girl in the eyes, drawing my face close to hers, our noses only centimetres apart. "What is it that you're waiting for, Valeri Ephars?" She stared into my eyes with a hefty dose of wonder, so enraptured by my theatrics that she could barely stay self-aware enough to tame her expression.

"Someone like you?" She said breathily, the words slipping out between her lips before she could stop them. The light tint of red on her features exemplified just how embarrassing those words had been for her. I let out a gentle chime of laughter and began to walk along the side of the balcony again, one that we'd been allowed up to due to the clout of 'Lady Ephars'.

"And if a person like me never came? Would you simply sit in your little tower and mourn what could have been like a good princess?" The mocking words inspired a little anger from the girl, probably because she might have never been spoken to that way, but she did a good job at quelling it.

"I would have. I–" She cut herself off, almost biting her tongue. "I just don't know when." I snorted at the answer.

I made a sentence of movement, flinging myself across the balcony's side with a rush of speed, spinning in much the same way as a dancer might. I added grace and flow to the action, making it like a symphony of movement, the steps singing as I placed them. I looked briefly to the girl as she watched me move, and it was immediately obvious that she could hear them too. The sound of the movements.

"Bad answer." I said with a grin as I stopped myself, bending at my waist and righting my torso to look at her, tapping my foot impatiently. "So, you just expect me to whisk you away on an adventure, to extricate you from all your problems and give you something nice and juicy to work on?" I felt the build-up of kinetic energy slowly wear off, making my body fall backwards, unable to sustain its fight against gravity. Valeri yelped as I fell towards the street, but I quickly caught myself with another sentence that allowed me to sneak my form underneath the balcony. With a few quick movements, I flipped back onto the balcony, right-side up, and approached the girl from behind.

"But I won't give you that." The tall dark-skinned woman just about screamed in surprise, turning to face me with her hand to her chest. "You need to earn that." My face lost all humour and hers did too.

"What do I need to do?" She asked in a whisper, a feeling of deep-seated shame washing over her. I doubt she's had to ask something so subserviently before, but the fact that she's willing to do it at all just means that she'd invested.

"Easy," I laughed gently as I stared at her with a beguiling smile, "you're going to have your ass handed to you on a silver platter."


A/N: This chapter marks the day I broke chapter 100 on Patreon. That's a lot of chapters. Here's to many more, my dear reader.

Thank you to my two 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my two 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, and Dyson C.! A gargantuan thanks to my two 20-dollar Patrons Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 71: Valeri

Valeri Ephars hadn't been able to sleep properly for days. It wasn't due to her bed being of any inferior quality, or it being too hot or too cold, Gods know that her life was the picture of luxury—far in excess of anything you'd legitimately need to survive. It was the memory of that man that she couldn't shake from her mind.

Valeri had thought herself almost impervious to the whims of others, having dealt with the crooning and bootlicking her entire life. Her father was intensely rich and powerful, of course; a man of pure capitalism and greed, seeking just another way to earn coin. He wasn't quite so uncouth as to dip his hand into the slave trade, but he was certainly willing to cut some moral corners to line his own pockets.

Jitah Ephars was a man that attracted a very particular kind of attention, and Valeri just so happened to be the best way to earn access to the man. Everyone wanted Valeri's hand in marriage from the moment she was born, anything to earn the expertise of the man capable of turning anything into a successful business.

Valeri was ultimately conflicted by her father. He was cold and indifferent, too interested in his own personal gain to even be dismayed when Valeri's mother had left them behind in Crossroads. But every now and then she'd see a spark of kindness, of love in her father's eye.

Then there would be months where she'd only see the man at dinner twice, and those times were spent in silence. Maybe if she was willing to approach him on the grounds of running businesses, he'd be able to talk to her, but otherwise they were left to sit in silence and a mutual awkwardness.

She knew that her father wasn't normal, and probably never would be. There were sacrifices he made to be as powerful as he was, and maybe the greater sacrifice was that he never saw them as sacrifices in the first place.

But that left Valeri with nothing, no future other than to be a bargaining chip for her father's political of economic gains, even if he hadn't made use of her yet. The temptation was there, even for Valeri. If she were to allow her to be bargained away, even to involve herself whole heartedly in the process, she could find herself as one of the most powerful women on Virsdis by her father's age. She had no doubt that she'd be able to get to the point where a wave of a hand would start a war.

Yet, Valeri was a follower of Tarania, and that future didn't seem very mighty. To just go with the tide that others had set for her.

That was why she was going to the meeting that the man had set, despite her mind screaming at her. It was a terrible idea from every point of view she could take, the enigma of a man had appeared from nowhere and had swept her up in a whirlwind of a night, just to set a date and a location for her to arrive at.

Valeri hadn't been so mystified by someone since she was barely a child, when she'd found herself with a massive crush on a very handsome butler's apprentice. The boy had been a charismatic mess, all smiles and secret, but with a terrible habit of slipping his hands into drawers and taking what was not his.

She remembered how she'd cried when her father had taken his right hand, only letting the boy have his life at her insistence. It was one of the only times that her father had strayed from his own iron rhetoric, a moment that she now morbidly cherished.

Valeri pulled herself from the tantalising embrace of her plush bed, walking towards her dresser and procuring from it the clothes she had specifically acquired just to make it to this meeting. She was awake far earlier than she'd been in years, the drowsiness of sleep hanging over her mind and making her eyelids quake under its weight.

As she dressed herself with the commoner's clothes and travelling cloak, she lambasted herself in her mind. This was ridiculous, on all accounts. The man had taken her by the heart and was leading her around like a head of sheep with it. It was embarrassing and humiliating, but that same mystique that led her to even buy the clothes still remained in her mind.

As Valeri threw on the last of her clothes, she turned to the small pack that had been put together for her—much of what was inside was really for emergency cases where this wasn't a simple meeting and was more in the league of a kidnapping attempt. Though her heart knew that it wasn't going to be anything so nefarious, her mind was fixated on the possibility, with more than twenty examples for her to gain the paranoia from.

Just as she completed her outfit, pulling her mass of unruly hair into tight bunches, a light set of knocks were placed on her large wooden door.

"Come in." She said calmly, having expected the knocks. With a prompt speed, a slightly older man walked into the room without hesitation. He was maybe thirty-five, closing in on forty at the high end, but was the closest thing to a father that Valeri had experienced in a long time.

"Good morning, Miss Ephars." The man stated neutrally with a bow, but Valeri could read the subtext in the greeting. She shook her head quietly, sighing as she fixed a particularly irritating piece of hair away with a handy pin.

"No, I will not reconsider, Yeram." The man released himself from the tight bow and stood a little more relaxedly, but with the same propriety as he always did.

"I did not say anything, Miss Ephars." Valeri scoffed, rolling her eyes all the while.

"You don't need to say a word to get the message across, Yeram. How long do you think you've been my personal attendant?" Valeri didn't wait for the man to respond, though her would certainly have answered with exact precision, down to the day, "This is no different from when you've subtly commanded me to go back to my economics classes."

"I believe that this is quite different." Yeram said coolly, "You are putting yourself in a great deal of danger doing this, Lady Ephars." Valeri scowled intensely at the ever-polite man, his pale skin and slowly greying hair only adding to his authority as he aged.

"Don't you 'Lady Ephars' me, Yeram."

"Then please reconsider attending this meeting. You have no idea who this might–" The glare that Valeri fixed him with made his jaw close with a click, realising that he was beginning to overstep in his speech. Valeri grinded her teeth for a moment, letting the quietly powerful muscles in her cheeks show her frustration, but it didn't last.

"Yeram…" She began softly, looking away from her personal attendant, "You haven't met him. I don't expect you to understand what it was like when he looked at me. It was something else entirely, like something even greater than a King was observing me." Valeri paused, her face grimacing as her mind desperately reached for words that would even describe a moment of the sensation that she'd bathed in while in the man's company.

"It was magical, Yeram, and yes I understand how it sounds." She almost snarled at the man before he had the chance to ask the question in the first place. "Everything in me wants to pick apart the experience, to denigrate it and eventually ignore it as a flight of fancy, or an adrenalin fuelled fever dream, but I can't." The room was laden with silence for a moment, the young lady's attendant waiting patiently to see if she was going to say anything more but nodded quietly when she didn't.

Yeram was a man of caution and expertise. He was much more than a personal attendant, and caution was a defining feature of his mindset, and caution made him extremely good at his job. But when he was placed up against that face of Valeri's, it caused a conflict inside of him that drew his every emotion into a grand war. It was the exact same conflict that he'd struggled with when he'd once apprenticed that young boy, and the same conflict that had allowed the boy to get away with slipping his fingers into pockets for far too long.

"Do you fancy him, Valeri?"

The simple question rocked Valeri to her core. She whipped her head around to look at the older man, a crease of worry prominent in his brow. Yeram had called Valeri by her first name only a handful of times in her entire life, leaving it for the most important moments. Valeri swallowed against a sudden dryness in her throat, turning away from the man with too many expressions waging war on her face.

"I don't know." She answered after a moment. Yeram bobbed his head quietly after his own pondering, the man taking a step back and letting his form relax ever so slightly.

"I see."

After all the words that needed to be said had been spoken, Valeri made to leave her room with quick and restless steps, trusting in her attendant that he'd cleared the way to the hidden back door so that she'd be able to leave silently in the early morning. However, just as she grabbed the handle of her door, her attendant's voice rang out in the silence, almost startling her.

"Lady Valeri. You may wish to take your rapier." She turned to the man, who was now holding the training rapier she normally wielded, extending its handle out to her with a severe expression on his face. She took the rapier quickly, and quickly left the room and followed the path that she'd always taken out of the house when she wanted no one to know of her departure.

The lavish halls she walked through were obscenely wide, freezing cold with the night's chill still being held by the marble flooring. The cold air just made her feelings towards her home more apparent, almost achingly so.

She walked down through a service door that had been promptly left open for her to walk through, striding down the narrower corridors that ran through the house unseen. In only a few moments she was outside, practically jogging through the small path through the expansive gardens that her father paid mind-boggling amounts of money to keep.

Then she found herself on a path towards the northern road, the gated community on this road contained some of the richest and most powerful people outside of the Brauhm Empire's elite. It was with ease that she procured herself a horse that she'd use for the trip into the city, and from then it was only a short travel to her destination.

While a lone rider was hardly common, it didn't raise any eyebrows, especially with the commoner's clothes and travelling cloak that Valeri wore. She reached the city centre, and quickly cross referenced her internal compass with the one illustrated through tile in Crossroads' centre. She turned to her right, leading down the western arm of the city, and committing to the short ride out into the fields to the south-west of the city.

The nerves were building, and had been building for a while, the concept of meeting that man again had her mind in jumbles, desperately trying to reconcile how she felt with the situation. But, woefully, Valeri was not given the time to truly examine herself, her horse quickly blazing out of the city limits and quickly making headway into the fields that surrounded the city, past the homesteads that sat just outside the city, quietly existing.

She kept riding, the horse being exceptionally fit for the task, but as the kilometres flew underfoot, she was left with a quiet doubt, building in her chest. She scanned the periphery as best she could, and despite being able to see great lengths in the fields, she saw nothing of the tall form that he sported.

After another ten minutes of riding, she found herself riding towards a stream of gently moving water that could only be considered a creek. She followed it for a while, feeling the time slowly trickle through her fingers as she searched, each passing moment adding just a little bit of doubt.

"You actually came." Valeri jolted, almost spooking the horse with the movement, whipping her head around to see a much smaller form than the man that she knew.

"Who are you?" She asked warily, clutching onto the reigns, and preparing to force the horse into a gallop at a moment's notice. The smaller man looked up towards her, dressed in traveller's clothing just as she was. Underneath the long and dark cloak, a blank metal mask was visible, the only features on it being a small slit for the mouth and two eyeholes that allowed the man's blazing green eyes to peer through with all their intensity.

"Master Maximilian sent you here." The man said gravely. The voice wasn't deep or remotely resonant like that man's had been at moments, but it held a different sort of seriousness and gravity that weighed on Valeri's shoulders despite herself.

"Who are you?" She asked again, both of the participants of the conversation not willing to yield to the other's will. The shorter man looked at her for a long, tense moment, and as he made to respond, a strange glow began to burn in his eyes—brighter even than the iridescent green of his natural eye colour.

"You can call me Midday." He said solemnly, the slight glow in his eyes suddenly became brighter than the morning sun, the overwhelming gold making Valeri shiver with a sudden understanding of just how powerful they promised he'd be. She swallowed, desperately trying to wet her tongue so she could speak clearly.

"I am Val." She said, trying to obscure her identity from the man's eyes, but even as the false name fled her lips, she couldn't help but feel as if it were nothing beneath his gaze—a mere mockery of his exacting eyes.

"You are nothing." The words radiated with a dominant power that undulated forth from the cloaked man, forcing her and the horse to stay perfectly still and commanding their entire attention.

"Leave your horse here, he will not stray too far." Midday's words were almost gentle in comparison to the words preceding them, "We will see if you are worth any of my master's time."

The shorter man turned and walked away with a sure step, his figure glowing ever so slightly with a golden light that made goosebumps cover her arms while she looked at it. She did as she was told, dismounting from the horse quickly and following after the surprisingly fast man, only now realising that she was almost half a foot taller than the intimidating man.

What a spectacularly befuddling day this already was.


A/N: Thank you to my three 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque, Christian P., and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my three 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Benjamin V.E., and Dyson C.! A gargantuan thanks to my two 20-dollar Patrons Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 72: Oath

Valeri stumbled to the ground uselessly, as if her legs were gone from beneath her. Without the physical strength to get her arms up to stop her fall, her chin smacked into the ground with a significant amount of force. The blow sent a shock of disorientation through her body, all of her limbs unable to anything but flail uselessly beside her as she tried to force them to work.

Even if her mind wanted to get up from the ground, it was only an instinct that drove her now. The actual stubbornness had left her quickly against the stone wall that the shorter man had become to her. Thought even as she managed to get a limp arm underneath herself and pushed herself to her feet for the hundredth time, she could make herself do it anymore.

She couldn't look into his eyes.

The divine gold intermingling with the burning green always sent a deep sense of inferiority to her very core. The bright light that surrounded Midday had stayed continued to be just that, as bright as the midday sun. From the early morning until far into the depths of the night, Midday shone with an unerring power, only truly seeming at home while the sun had been truly uncovered by Orisis in the sky.

"Is this the end, Valeri?" The distinctly young voice called, something that had grated on the girl's conscious for the entire day. The man, while embodying everything that she would consider a man to be, was too young. An almost mortifying possibility would be if the boy was younger than even she was. Thus, leading Valeri to secretly hope that Midday was simply a very short man.

"I can keep going." She said, iron still in her voice. It was the benefit of being a blessed with Might, that unerring disposition was something that Valeri hadn't found all too useful until today. She couldn't force her eyes up to meet the man's anymore, but she could feel the powerful gaze on her.

"Good." The powerful word came to meet her again, along with a blow faster than she could truly react to. She took the blow to her gut, letting the blow wind her like they all had before, and prepared to strike at the man with the training rapier that she had used for years.

Of course, she didn't hit Midday. The blade, though dulled, was still enough to do a significant amount of damage with though that hardly deterred the metal masked man from toying with it like it was nothing more than a twig.

He would brush the blade off with the back of his knuckles and even then, it wouldn't even do so much as graze him. It was infuriating, the total lack of care for an art she'd practiced for a good portion of her life. She'd had teachers who were the best around, and she had even managed a few matches against them—yet Midday was a lord above them all.

It was humiliation supreme when the blade she'd professed to be skilled in was so useless against the man across from her, even as he used nothing but his hands. Then, as well, it was pride of the highest order that she still used it, despite her complete lack of effectiveness against Midday's dominance.

She let that frustration override her, as she struck out with the rapier's tip once again. Midday dodged it smoothly, smoother than she'd seen any but the most proficient of dancers move. If the blade was of no use, then she had no choice but to abandon it.

The lunging rapier was left to clatter to the ground as Valeri felt her body tighten together and sneak closer to the radiant man, her fist rocketing out as she drew close enough to strike.

That was when her fist made contact with Midday's palm, and like flesh against rock, it did nothing. When Midday's surprisingly gentle grasp surrounded her fist, she realised that her hand was trapped, just as she was.

"Well, that certainly took you long enough." Midday's voice rang out harshly as he let go of the fist that he'd wrapped in his grasp. Valeri quickly retreated a few steps, eyes covering the man's body, looking for a sign of any movement. The man's movement was as esoteric as his master's, Maximilian. Though he didn't seem to have the same astounding closeness to the art of it, making Midday's movement seem like a pale likeness in comparison.

"Are you going to stand on guard all day?" The cutting voice spoke again, just a little too high pitched for Valeri's pride to accept, desperate to consider Midday a man. Her eyes glanced up to Midday's face, the golden light still poured off of him and from his eyes, but it was no longer the oppressive light that it used to be.

"I can continue." Valeri said, gritting her teeth even as she said it, but Midday just shook his head.

"Probably." He stated, a raised eyebrow was evident even underneath his mask, "But, frankly, you don't have it in you to learn much more than you have today." Valeri's face darkened with the implication that she wasn't up to the task, but Midday just flashed with the golden light again, shutting her up.

"You have no idea what constitutes actual training." He paused to wait for Valeri to look directly at him again, then continued, "You have trained with a weapon that doesn't suit you, totally ignoring the strengths of your own blessing and the resources that you have available to you. Master told me a lot about you, and the only reason why I believe you are worth anything is because he said so."

"Why am I not worth anything?" Valeri snarled, indignancy rising to the top of a fetid pool of emotion, "Why are you worth more than me, Midday?" As soon as the flash of anger was gone, Valeri's jaw clicked as it closed, a cold dread washed over her body, though she was too prideful to possibly take back her words now.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Valeri." Midday's voice warned as his eyes adjusted to capture her own gaze in a stranglehold, "It's not that I was ever worth more than you. It's that I wasn't, and you should be." Midday walked closer to her, each step forced Valeri to move back another step as well, his purposeful strides overpowering her shaky, unsure ones. Each of Midday's footfalls felt like its own tremor through the earth, even though Valeri knew that it wasn't real. It wasn't real, but it felt as if she was being approached by a giant.

"W– What's that even supposed to mean?" Valeri gasped as she tripped on nothing and fell backwards into the dirt like she had a hundred times during the day. Her eyes remained locked with Midday's; the golden light almost made it feel as if her face was burning with its intensity.

"You sit in your tower, warm and fed at night." The light around him dimmed, the darkness around him seeped in ever so slightly, "You worry about what coin will be pinched from your horde as those on the street starve. You sit in your tower, observing it all, yet you receive a blessing. For what?" Midday asked, his voice cold with disdain.

"I don't know!" Valeri yelped, almost as if she were being struck, "I don't know why I was given a blessing it was given in my sleep!" The green eyes burned into her, the pure criticism in them was something she'd never felt in her entire life, it was something that she was sure that she'd see as she closed her eyes for a long time.

Midday straightened his posture entirely, looking down on her from above like a King from on high, peering down at a foolish peasant who understood nothing and was worth even less. "Yet you have the gall to do nothing, to stay ignorant and foolish?"

Valeri wished so badly to answer the barbed question, but she couldn't. She had kept the secret of her blessing so well that even she had forgotten it at times, and if not for that little piece of twine that still connected her to Tarania, she'd have allowed herself to forget entirely.

"Disappointing." Midday decreed; the power of the word radiated throughout her entire being—scorching her worse than any fire possibly could.

What could she say to that? To a word that so wholly summed up her entire self, that defined her so completely. It was the most painful thing someone had ever called her, despite so much of her life revolving around the meticulous and callously crafted insults of Crossroads' wealthy. It felt like she'd had her skin stripped from her muscle, flayed with impunity, and treated like nothing else but the cattle would be.

Midday only looked at her for a while, before removing his overpowering gaze and walking away from her slack form to Gods only know where. Valeri felt the desire to ask one last question, the burning in her chest coming from more than just her muscles.

"How?" She said finally, her voice cracking lamely even with Might granted by a Goddess. Midday stopped his walk, letting the faint glow that surrounded him die—making the man almost entirely indistinguishable from any other person on the street.

"You come tomorrow." And then he was gone, moving at a speed that Valeri didn't have good enough eyesight to track in the dark.

Valeri could do nothing but walk painfully to her horse and ride home, each jolt that travelled through the horse would send her body through a shockwave of colliding pain, more than she'd been in her entire life.

She reached the back door of her home that she'd left through, knocking in a specific pattern on the door. In only a moment, the door swung open to reveal a hefty woman in her early sixties.

"Ma'am," the woman said gently, before allowing Valeri to slide an arm over her shoulder, standing much shorter than the dark-skinned woman. Valeri knew the woman, and had almost her entire life, she even knew her name, though she'd never used it.

Valeri had never come home in such a state, the worst being when she'd gone to a 'secretive' party with some others of her generation and had managed to spectacularly ruin her own dress, to where she was legitimately indecent in the foppish thing. The servant had helped her every time, doing absolutely anything she could to for Valeri, to make her comfortable in what had been a harrowing moment for her.

Though, Valeri could only assume that the woman was quite shocked to see her beat up the way she was, skin scrapped up like nothing, but a fight could produce. Bruises, cuts, blisters, the whole nine yards.

"Uaele…" Valeri said hesitantly after the woman somehow hauled her through the corridors to an empty room. The shock on the woman's face would have made Valeri's day if the day had been anything else, but it wasn't.

"You know my name, Lady Ephars?" The older woman, Uaele, said with a hitch of surprise or worry in her voice. Valeri grimaced as she tried desperately to move into a more comfortable position, though her body had decided that now was the time to totally crash and be useless.

"Yes, I learnt it when I was ten," Valeri said quietly, but didn't expand on the statement. "I know you must have things to do, or family to be around, but–" Uaele, her eyes flashing in understanding, held up a silencing finger and rushed from the room post-haste. Valeri eased herself up against a wall that the bed she'd been placed on was flush against. She didn't dare let herself lay down on the bed truly, the only possible outcome being that she'd fall asleep.

It was only a few moments later when Uaele bustled back in the room with more genuine liveliness than Valeri had ever seen on any of her household's servants, aside from Yeram—if you considered a slight crinkle of his eyes to be lively.

"Alright, let's get your clothes off!" Uaele said, placing down a small pail of water along with some other items on the room's supplied table. Valeri, having never been bathed or seen by any others naked, was too shocked to even yelp as the older woman practically tore the clothes off of her—somehow managing to make what would seem like a lengthy and painful process as easy and painless as taking off a sock.

"Ouch, those must have hurt," the woman said kindly, a soft and worried voice carrying to Valeri's ears as Uaele gently pressed around the many wounds on her skin. Valeri hissed in pain, but the woman ignored the expression with only an apologetic murmur. After a few moments, Uaele was gently washing Valeri's wounds with mercifully warm water, carefully and methodically cleaning her body.

Valeri, overly anxious of the woman's view of her almost totally bare body, sans underwear, almost shrieked when the woman began to clean at the smattering of wounds and scrapes on her breasts.

"Oh, calm down! You're a little girl now, are ye?" The tough old lady's voice said instinctively, before going ramrod straight as she realised what she'd said, and who she'd said it to. But before Uaele could apologise for her grand misstep, Valeri couldn't help but let the compressed laughter burst through her nose in surprise—the motion instantly making her groan with pain multiple times as she alternated between laughing and cringing with pain.

Uaele didn't hold for much longer herself, barely containing a warm, full-bodied laugh by grasping at her knees as her body shook in restraint. The hilariousness of the statement had somehow opened a whole new world to Valeri, a sudden sonder striking her as she realised that each and every one of her household's employees were like this in some way or another. A brusque mothering from Uaele was all it took for her to realise that.

Valeri let the wizened woman continue her work, her hands moving methodically from wound to wound and applying and of a handful of different salves and mixtures to them. Valeri would have believed that the woman was a medic of some sort before she worked here, if a qualified medic weren't paid far more than a simple maid would be within her household.

"You do this often?" Valeri asked with a cautious curiosity, managing to get the words out despite the pain.

"Oh, once upon a time, darlin'." Uaele said happily, "When you have two sons who like to scrap with the other neighbourhood boys, you'll be doing lots of this!" Valeri chuckled along with the woman, though she found herself wondering if she would ever have to do such a thing when she could simply get a trained servant to do so. Suddenly that idea felt hollower than it practically should, like there was a sudden loss of warmth and compassion in such an intimate action.

"Your sons, are they…?" Valeri said tentatively, yet Uaele looked up at her sadly, the pure sorrow in the woman's eyes was something that she felt resonate in her chest, like a drum being struck mightily atop a mountain and to hear a different drum resound back from the mountain standing opposite.

"No, honey." Uaele's hands stopped moving for a moment, only to begin again in short order. They stayed in silence for a while, letting the sorrow integrate into the atmosphere comfortably.

"Is… is it that bad out there?" Valeri asked as she let her dark eyes scour the older woman's face, "Am I truly living in an ivory tower?"

The pitying glance in place of a reply was enough. Valeri hated being treated like a fragile thing, as if an errant blow would crack her skin or break her bones, but today she'd been beaten so thoroughly by Midday that it'd destroyed her entire perception on what it meant to be treated like a porcelain teacup. Midday had held back in every sense of the word, clearly capable of doing far more than what he'd done to her.

"I'm sorry, Uaele." Valeri said quietly, a flood of emotions springing forth from the pool within her chest and making her entirely incapable of stopping it from leaking form her eyes. There was nothing graceful about those emotions, nothing pretty of beautiful. They were the infected remains of what she'd repressed her entire life, and even as Uaele pulled Valeri's much taller form into her gratuitous bosom it wasn't quelled.

"It's alright darlin'." The woman whispered gently into her ear, over and over again. It soothed the pain, but only affirmed Valeri's stance, each word from the mouth of the woman who pitied her innocence, even when she had somehow believed in the innocence of the world despite knowing full well that the world outside her towers wasn't as peaceful as it appeared from above it all.

No, it wasn't alright, Valeri decided. It wasn't alright that the world was this way, and that she did nothing about it. It wasn't alright that the woman who'd lost her sons, however it'd happened, was comforting the sheltered princess like she would a babe with a teat.

No. It wasn't alright, and Valeri was going to change it.

She swore that she would.


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque, Christian P., Kristof D., and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Benjamin V.E., Puppet424, and Dyson C.! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

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[Sarius]

Chapter 73: Blade

Rethi spent a long time lying in bed that night, or morning depending on how much of a stickler you were.

The small but comfortable room within the Skinned Lizard was a blessing for today, the bed being just large enough to fit him and Alena within its sheets, allowing them to comfort each other as they drifted into the realm of sleep. Maximilian had always acted oddly around the topic of Alena and Rethi, most of the time poking fun at the couple.

It was a strange sentiment to Rethi, that their relationship would be seen as fledgling in the way that Max saw it. It was probably a holdover from his life back on Earth, something about the concept of a child being much different there—something that he'd never graced Rethi with the details on.

Rethi's extreme awe for the man had slowly simmered down over the past while, though the introduction of his master's literal Demigodhood certainly made it difficult to tone down too much. But now, Rethi held more of a strong respect and loyalty to the man, rather than a rabid piousness that he was leaning more towards earlier on in their relationship.

Maximilian was a good man, placed against impossible odds. Every time that Rethi interacted with his master, there was always something different about the conversation than the others that he had. It was something almost entirely indescribable, except for the feeling of excitement and energy that was derived from it. It was Maximilian's selling point, as a person. Always listening, always contemplating, and always ready to give an answer to the best of his abilities for your own benefit.

The past day, however, had tested Rethi in a way he hadn't expected to be tested.

In that little road town, it had been difficult to form opinions of nobility and the finer classes. The older townsfolk had their choice words to say about them, some good and some bad, depending on the encounters that they and their friends have had with the mystical upper classes.

Rethi was too young and lived too desperate a life to care back then, but now he felt that every step he took widened his perception of the world a mile. In the past weeks of travel, he'd met more people than he'd known his entire life, so many that he couldn't possibly remember the names and faces of everyone he'd met or had any interaction with.

It was a scary concept at first, though he kept the fear to himself, the fear that he'd end up in a place and recognise no-one and nothing—a transient in a world not meant for him. Rethi could only guess that Maximilian had seen those emotions in him to some degree, whether consciously or unconsciously.

The first time Rethi had set foot in Crossroads, it had blown his mind. There were so many people, hundreds visible on the streets at any given time of day, the chatter and noise were ever present, the salesmen and women constantly hawking their wares to a barely attentive crowd.

It was earth-shattering, yet Maximilian barely even flinched, reminding Rethi of the stories he'd managed to pry from the man's guarded lips. One time he'd even given Rethi a number, five million, that was the estimate for how many people lived in the city he had once lived in. The paltry number of people within Crossroads barely touched upon the magnitude of a number so massive that it took a significant amount of time for Rethi to even put it into context.

Maximilian had taken them to the Skinned Lizard that night, forcing them to confront the minority population of Crossroads immediately. Rethi had never seen a Reptilia, the only travellers coming from the south being various shades of human. The boy had been terrified that he was encroaching on their ground, territory unknown to him, but his mind was sorted out in short order.

He couldn't say that he was entirely comfortable being around Reptilia, even if he wholeheartedly accepted them and their plight within Crossroads, even enjoying the company of Tenra, the Tiliquan man, and Gehne, the Gek waitress. It was some small part of himself that he couldn't quite be rid of something he solved by ignoring its existence within him and hope would simply go away someday.

Rethi was being forced to make opinions of the world around him, despite wishing he could simply stay as a neutral party to the world, as he once was. Wish as he might, things were fed into his ears by osmosis, the simply act of walking down a street would teach you a lot about the place you were in, what the people were like, who held the power, who hated who.

Merchants in Crossroads were rich, some being the executors of entire companies, focused on obtaining money and power, only to gain more money and power. In a way, he saw a link between himself and them, an acknowledgement of how easy it'd be for him to do exactly the same as they have done.

But as Rethi learnt more about the rich and their power, and namely how they obtained it, his standards set themselves higher and higher.

They were rich beyond imagining, for the once poor boy. He held in his packs a small fortune, enough to live a downright luxuriant life off of, but their wealth dwarfed even that, far in excess of anything someone could possibly need.

And for what?

Rethi had fostered the contempt over the days they spent in Crossroads, quickly aligning himself to be on the side of the 'commoner', on the side of the persecuted and maligned. The meeting between Maximilian, himself, and the owner and staff of the Skinned Lizard had only furthered that opinion. Rethi had slowly come to understand just how much of the issues that the regular folk dealt with had a root cause in what the ludicrously rich were doing.

So, when Maximilian had told Rethi of his escapades within the northern sectors, Rethi had almost been confused. He'd excepted his master to somehow get the information that they, along with those of the Skinned Lizard, needed to formulate some plan to shake the broken system to its core.

Yet, Rethi's master had told him of a young and extraordinarily rich woman and told him that he was going to train her. In combat. It had befuddled the boy. Why would he possibly teach a person like that to fight? What good would that possibly do?

Nevertheless, he agreed even if he did make a point to argue. Though, Maximilian had pulled out the magic words, the words that worked on Rethi every time—the same ones that had first convinced Rethi to stab the man, dealing a mortal wound to the nigh immortal Champion.

"Trust me."

So, he did. Rethi trusted his master, even going so far as to create a character, commission a mask and do the whole thing discreetly. It scratched the boy's itch for mysterious beings, much like the Keeper that he'd once met—something he had to constantly remind himself that it'd even happened at all with the sheer absurdity of it.

Then he had met the woman he was to train, only having Maximilian's comprehensive briefing to go on by that point. She was… disappointing.

Rethi shifted within the sheets of the bed, wrestling with the desperate want to sleep, and the reluctance of his body to relinquish itself to the bed's comfort. With a sigh, Rethi slid from the sheets wearing nothing but a pair of undergarments, something that Alena had bought from one of Oscar's many friends. Rethi wouldn't admit it, but they had totally changed his life, and there was absolutely no way he could be forced out of them and back into the horrifying clutches of what he used to wear.

Rethi paced for a bit, the wooden floorboards under his feet creaking with each step as he almost muttered with thought. Alena shifted in the sheets and it was only after a minute or two that he realised that she was staring directly at him, her blue eyes shining with the dull light of night.

"What's wrong?" She said softly, not a word of complaint or frustration, only pure worry, and care. This was the side of Alena that no-one else saw, aside from the rare moment that Maximilian might've observed.

"I'm training that girl, the merchant's daughter." Rethi's jaw clenched with the sentence, a mixture of frustration and… something else that even Rethi couldn't quite identify.

"Valeri, right?" Alena murmured as she sat up in the bed, her back resting against the bedhead and the pillows, pulling the sheets around her to guard her from the chill of the early morning.

Rethi nodded, running a hand over his face, "I just don't understand! Why am I out there training some rich girl how to do things when we could be…" Rethi scrunched his face up and gestured wildly, "doing literally anything! Me and Master Max could wipe out the gangs in a night if we wanted, what's stopping us?" Alena hummed tiredly, but when her gaze locked with his, it was entirely alert—Rethi could almost see that calculator in her mind racking up an invisible set of numbers, flexing the muscles of her powerful mind. Yet another side people never got to see of the girl.

"Rethi," she said quietly, patting a spot on the bed and telling him to sit, "I think that's what he wants to avoid." Rethi bottled his instinctive response until he had sat cross legged on the bed, letting Alena search his calloused and powerful hand with her gentle fingers.

"But why? We could fix so much! We could–" Alena shook her head, stopping the boy dead, feeling his argument fall apart with the simple shake of her head, the black locks swaying from side to side.

"If Maximilian thought that was a reasonable course of action, he'd have already done it, Rethi." Alena sighed, "I hate to defend the man, he hardly needs defending, but he's a literal Demigod of the Hearth, Rethi. You do know what the mere priests are called on Orisis, right?"

"Peace Bringers." Rethi said, remembering the title being thrown around in the meeting with the Skinned Lizard group. They had high hopes that Max was one of them, or something close enough.

"Exactly." She said clearly, "I don't know much about the legends, I'd have thought you would know them better than I. But in the fairy tales my father would tell me, they would roam from kingdom to empire, mediating discussions and stopping catastrophes from every happening in the first place. They are said to have saved more lives than any hundred legendary warriors ever have, Rethi." The words were succinct, Alena's opinion clear on the subject. Rethi didn't even need to ask if Max could be considered a Peace Maker, his master being so much more than that.

"So, I just… do nothing?" Rethi said, conflicted. Alena sighed again, conflict showing on her pretty features and grabbing a hold of Rethi's hand more firmly.

"I think it just means you need to reconsider the effect of what you're doing, my love." Despite himself, Rethi felt himself melt a little on the inside, regardless of his storming emotions. He knew the significance of those words to Alena, and when she used them, she really meant it.

"How? I–" Rethi scrunched his brows in consternation, ruffling his own hair frustratedly, "I don't understand what I'm doing."

"Maybe you're not meant to." She said softly into his ear, leaning forwards and kissing him gently on the high bone of his cheek, "Maximilian is hard to understand at the best of times, even when he's being entirely honest with you. He's so different from us, so alien to our worlds. You can see how it hurts him whenever he remembers that." Rethi listened to his girlfriend, the very same girl he'd first found friendship with after he had become a beggar. He could still remember when she first stood in front of him, her body language nervous, but quickly attaching herself to him.

He had found their relationship to be like a close sibling relationship at first, sometimes they would switch who was the older sibling, despite Alena being somewhere around a year older than he was. It was time he'd found as a blissful retreat from the depression of his mother and their lacking financial status. Many times, Alena had brought him bread to feed his mother, though they had never spoken a word of the charity.

"I think," Alena continued quietly, "that Maximilian wants to show you that you're more than a warrior."

"But that's what I am!" Rethi said, almost reflexively, a flash of anger worming its way into his mind. It was something so integral to his psyche now, to his very self-image. He was a Divine Warrior, devout to his master and the nameless God of the Sun who had once created Hindle, the Divine Weapon that sat within his cloak, waiting patiently to be used.

"And you are exceptional at it, Rethi. Otherwise, Mayer wouldn't have even bothered to train you, let alone have you inherit his Divine Weapon." She said placatingly, not even flinching at the outburst, "You are so powerful now. You can fight toe to toe with Maximilian, something he clearly delights in. But, if the damned man has taught me anything, it's that I'm more than I think I am and I think you are too."

"More than I think I am?" Rethi repeated, making Alena nod solemnly.

"You're more than Divine Warrior, Rethi. You're my boyfriend. You're the successor of Mayer. The closest friend and confidant of a young mortal God. The sweetest, most caring man I know." She paused to smile sleepily at him, making warm, jittery emotions flood into his chest, "You're more than just a blade for Maximilian to send to war. I'm sorry that I ever thought that was the truth."

They spent some time together in the chill of the morning, the heat of their bodies more than enough to keep them warm as they embraced each other, their skin warming against one another.

After a while, Rethi left his girlfriend's embrace, confidently meeting the challenge of the day, donning the metal mask and his traveller's clothing.

Midday left the Skinned Lizard through the window, this time Hindle came with him, strapped to his lower back and humming with the excitement of the slowly brightening sky.


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque, Christian P., Kristof D., and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Benjamin V.E., Puppet424, and Dyson C.! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Marisa E. and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 74: Candid Opinion

The days burned like oil in a lantern, ebbing away as the energy the light needed to survive was slowly depleted.

Valeri, however, was excited. The first days of training were gruelling, frustrating, rage-inducing, and anything in-between those expressions. They had been beyond difficult for Valeri to accomplish, especially with the distinct lack of the feeling of progress. She didn't feel any stronger, or any more capable than she had the days prior.

A few times she'd had thought to quit, to just not turn up one day. She had felt like she'd been snubbed by Maximilian, the man that had enchanted her so thoroughly in the course of a few hours, but every time she thought back to that oath she'd made to herself, in the image of Uaele.

The training was so demanding, both physically and emotionally, that thoughts of quitting were a constant thought. But when she thought back to the oath, the genuine emotions she'd found herself laden with that night, the woman who'd tended to her wounds just as she had her sons in decades past, she always found that renewed power to continue forwards.

In fact, it was almost easy. There was nothing easy about learning or training from Midday, the man being a harsher taskmaster than even her father, but the decision to continue onwards got easier and easier, even as her mind and body failed to continue.

"Good." Midday's distinctive voice cut through her thoughts as she completed the last of his stretching exercises, ones she'd been taught on the second day when her muscles had been sorest. Valeri hated that she felt a spark of pride at the affirmation, the simple word being all she'd ever gotten when she'd performed to Midday's arbitrary standard.

"Stand." Midday commanded brusquely, and Valeri promptly did so, "We're going to learn something new today, both of us." The short 'man' looked at her piercingly, seeking her response.

"What are we learning?" She asked hesitantly. Valeri had come to terms with the fact that Midday was probably younger than her over the past days, his voice being so immature sounding at points that it was hard to deny. Though she didn't say so, or let it change the way she looked at him.

"You're going to learn to wield something other than the thin hunk of junk you brought last time." Midday eyed her as the conflicted expression bubble to the surface of her face. Valeri loved using the rapier, it had been one of the only physical releases she'd had since childhood, not including dancing, which was more of a chore for the woman.

Midday turned his travellers' cloak that he'd laid on the ground and lifted it, pulling an exceptionally large sword from underneath. The entire cloak shifted as he pulled the oversized sword from underneath it, its full length only barely able to be hidden by the heavy cloak.

The blade was long and slightly wider than what she'd seen warriors carry. Its entire length was actually the majority of both Midday's and her own height, though not overly large like she'd seen in depictions of legendary warriors.

However, the blade's length wasn't really the interesting part, but just how wide it was. Valeri was sure that the weight of it was considerable, though Midday made it look like a twig he'd picked up from the ground on a whim.

"I picked this up from someone I trust," Midday thought for a second, "or a friend of someone I trust. Regardless, this is a blade called a claymore, although slightly edited to more benefit your unique situation." Midday walked over close, flipping the blade so that he was holding it backhand, the long and slender handle extended towards her. Valeri looked from him and back to the blade, only taking its handle after a few seconds of hesitation.

As soon as Midday let go of the blade, it felt as if the object had gained three times its weight. While the blade wasn't overly long, it was heavy, it almost felt like it should be longer rather than wider as it was.

Even as the weight of the blade settled in her hands, she found that she could hold it comfortably, enough that it wasn't going to significantly impede her if she tried to swing it. She took her first swing of the blade, and she found that her judgement was correct, though immediately she'd have to throw out almost everything she'd learned for wielding a rapier.

"Seems like you can handle it just fine, then." Midday said, unsurprised.

"How heavy is it?" She asked curiously, swinging it a few more times as she tested a few hastily put together stances she half recalled from lessons and books. Midday gave her an amused look, eyebrow raised.

"Can you wield it or not?" She growled at the challenge, making the man laugh harshly—something he'd been doing more of in recent days.

"Better than you could!" She said hot-headedly, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"Better than me?" Midday said, a light glow of gold swirling in his bright green eyes. "Put your money where your mouth is then. Show me what you've got." He stepped in front of her menacingly, crossing his sun-kissed arms in front of his chest. From this close Valeri could see the muscle definition on the man, highly trained muscles writhing underneath his shirt and skin with every movement.

Valeri had made a challenge, and Midday wouldn't let her back out of it. A constant theme in their days. The woman grimaced as she nodded, getting herself into a long ready stance and preparing the blade, holding it vertical to her body where the blade towered up past her cheek and above her head.

And without warning, it was on. She desperately tried to swing the heavy blade as fast as she could, but as soon as she jumped into motion, the stance crumbled underneath her inexperience with a blade easily ten times the weight of the rapier.

Midday watched the blade move through the air, almost like you'd watch a snail move across the leaf of a plant, mockingly letting the blade near to his neck and only then bursting into motion, his fist crashing into the flat of the approaching blade and ripping it from Valeri's hands, launching it into the air magnificently. Midday catching the heavy thing with one hand on the way down was only insult to injury.

"Disappointing." He said in the usual tone. Valeri wanted to go and find a sufficiently sized rock to go bang her head against, but Midday didn't give her the chance. With a woosh, the blade was sitting just millimetres from her neck, her throat bobbing with an uncontrollable gulp.

"However, I'm cheating. This blade is too light for me, and will be too light for you very soon, thus the lack of accoutrements." He pulled the blade from her neck and looked into the distance pensively for a moment, then another. She turned to look across the seemingly empty plains and found nothing, but when she turned back to face Midday, he was smiling underneath his metal mask.

"What are you even smiling at?" She asked, bewildered by the strange actions, but Midday just waved a hand at her dismissively.

"Oh nothing, just a ghost in the wind." He turned back to her fully, his eyes flashing predatorily, "Time to get back to training, you."

---​

Valeri stumbled home without use of a horse, a punishment for the loss of a bet she'd made in a rage over something stupid on the second or third day. Without the rage powering her idiocy, Valeri regretted everything. Thankfully, she'd slowly stopped making the rash decisions, despite her outburst only hours earlier.

The one good thing about returning home on foot was that she had some time to think, in between her training and sleeping, or doing some other necessary task. It let her think on all sorts of topics, but still mostly consisting of Midday, Maximilian, and training.

Today was a little different though. In that morning she'd found a letter from one of her closer socialite friends, contacting her after she'd had Yeram reject any events for the past days. The letter wasn't anything special, but when it came to sending a letter, there was a whole lot of subtext that could be jammed into the mere act of sending one, let alone what existed between the lines on the parchment itself.

The letter was a simple check in, the contents of which was fairly sparse and lacking any interesting information at all, as was normal for a probing message like this. The message was less about what was in it, and more about the reason it was sent in the first place.

Valeri hadn't been to any social events for an entire week, not even doing simple things to maintain presence like going to a restaurant, or even somewhere like the Brightspark like she was before. This wasn't exactly usual, but it couldn't be called outlandish by any means. But the circumstances of her departure from the Brightspark almost two weeks ago had certainly circulated by this point. It was too juicy a piece of gossip to pass up.

Socially, she was making a grievous mistake by not going to reaffirm her presence within her circles. The particular 'friend' who had sent the letter was the first to reach out and was searching for her weakness. They had been gunning for her position within the social hierarchy for months at this point, and Valeri was about ready to slap the girl for it before Maximilian showed up and upended her daily life.

In short, Valeri was committing social suicide, and was haemorrhaging political power by the minute, but couldn't bring herself to truly care. She had never really cared about all that, she was simply good at it.

Valeri arrived home, giving Uaele a quick greeting as she opened the service door to let her in, and then declining any need for treatment, having been granted a surprising lack of wounds during training. Valeri passed down the hallway, turning corners and taking shortcuts within the labyrinthian tunnels of the service passages she'd barely known even a week ago.

Before long, she'd found herself walking from a slightly obscured door and into a long marble hallway that was less than a thirty second walk from her room. She set her sights down the hallway, only to be caught off guard by a slightly greying man in a tightly tailored butler's attire, shocking her enough that she needed to close her eyes to recalibrate for a moment.

"Good evening, Miss Ephars." The humble voice intoned tacitly.

"Courts, Yeram!" She said, surprised enough to swear so grandly, "What's with you and appearing out of nowhere?" While the man made no overt facial expressions, as was his professionalism, she'd swear that the sides of his lips turned upwards at her distress.

"You merely do not look hard enough. I was standing here the entire time, Miss." She glared at the man in his deceivingly dull looking brown eyes.

"Well, if you're spooking me in the dark of night, you better have something interesting to tell me!" She declared, crossing her arms with an air of haughtiness, most of which was an act of self-amusement. Though, when Valeri turned her eyes back to the pale-skinned, middle-aged butler, she saw a more serious face than she'd expected.

"I believe, Miss, that you should discontinue your training with this Midday character." Valeri recoiled from the words. He'd never been so forwards with his opinion before, not so much as to offer an actual opinion. Yeram had always restricted himself to casual advice or, on the rare occasion, a light warning. Much of which had been advice she'd either followed or regretted ignoring.

Yet never something prefaced with 'I believe'.

"Why?" She asked simply, watching the man's face attentively. His expression was stone cold, a constant frustration of hers throughout her youth to now.

"I believe that Maximilian you met, and this Midday character who is training you, have ulterior motives. Potentially disastrous ones for yourself, your family, and possibly Crossroads as a whole." Valeri's eyes narrowed at the vague answer she'd been given.

"Of course, they have ulterior motives, Yeram." She said coolly, her tone synchronising in seriousness with her attendant's, "The question is what those motives are." The attendant was silent for a long while, merely reciprocating the gaze that they were locked in. After a time, Yeram seemed to decide something, his eyes warming slightly.

"I have been collecting information on Maximilian Avenforth, past the original stopping point you gave me." She clenched her jaw slightly. He was admitting that he had been going behind her back, directly betraying orders, though she didn't say a word.

"While you have been extricated from the social circles during your training, this Maximilian has been busy. Both in the high districts and the… less savoury circles. I believe he is taking advantage of the power vacuum that you have created by going no contact and using the notoriety of being the last to truly talk to you."

"And how is he using that power," she said, her mind brining the question past her lips on instinct, "because right at this moment, I'm not sure that I entirely care unless he's doing something completely uncouth." She spat the words with a little more vigour than she would have if she'd been entirely clear headed, but the slight betrayal of Yeram's had been enough to push a little bit of heat into the words. Yeram didn't speak for a moment, bowing his head deeply in a statuesque apology.

"I believe that he is trying to contact a Shadow Walker, Lady Ephars."


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patrons; Bisque, Christian P., Kristof D., and Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Benjamin V.E., Puppet424, Alexandru T., and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks for my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Marisa E., Kreiverin, and Thomas H.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 75: Web

Navigating a social web was an intriguing task, I'd come to find.

To get where you want to be in it, you have to travel what feels like an extravagant distance through connection to connection, hopping from conversation, to friend group, to business partner, to family member, and so on. It might not give me the immediacy that I'd like for my actions, being a waiting game in many senses, but you uncovered many little tidbits of information along the way that I found almost endlessly interesting.

Most of my time during the past two weeks, since the whole fiasco with Valeri, I'd been spending my time trapezing through social circles like nothing else. The ease of access I'd been granted as soon as Valeri had even done so much as talk to me, along with the drama of her disappearance, was almost astounding.

Sure, I wasn't so naïve that I thought it would remain this way. I was the shiny new toy on the market, and so I was the one that every rich woman and their dog wanted to invite to one social gathering or another.

But playing along was my specialty.

They weren't looking for a well-mannered, prim-and-proper type, they were looking for the chaotic element that I represented on the day I walked into the Brightspark and effectively notified everyone of my existence.

This meant that there were many reasons someone might invite me to their little get-togethers. One was that they were also a chaotic element within the social strata of the obscenely wealthy and were fostering a little group dedicated to the cause. Another was the type who were inviting me to try and pin the tail on the donkey, as such. Who was I? What did I want? What could they get from me? One more after that was those who simply wanted me to walk into their social gathering and change everything, add a calculated piece of chaos to shake the foundation a little.

All of these types were interesting, to some degree. My favourite so far had been a social event run by one of the first category.

Lucae Milna was a remarkably interesting man, a bit of an enigma when it came to the wider circles of the political and wealthy elite, but also part pariah. I'd been invited to his exclusive estate outside the bounds of Crossroads, hidden away ever so slightly from the direct view of the gated community of the uber rich. That was either by Lucae's design, or by his father's, which really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

The point was, Lucae was just about as rebellious as you could get with the kind of money he had. Think eternal orgy, friends of the lower class, lovers of the lower class, many, many lovers, so on and so forth. Inviting me out to his little estate was almost out of character to the man, who wore an eclectic mismatch of brightly coloured clothes which were placed to create the largest, garish mess he could possibly create.

His general dress and mannerisms reminded me distinctly of drag queens from Earth, with all their pomp and vitality. Though the man was far too rebelliously spirited to bother imitating the female sex, perfectly content with his mind bending 'masculine' clothing, if you could even call it that at this point.

When he had mentioned why he had invited me to his hidden away estate, it was as if the universe suddenly made sense. Oscar. Oh yes, the little tailor who had done such a good job on my suit, and now with my lovely looking purple tie, was apparently excellent 'friends' with Lucae. Which was short for sharing a bed at any chance they got.

In the sort of party that Lucae ran, I was almost entirely out of place. It was filled to the brim with the oddities and interests of society, even a fair amount of those from other races such as Reptilia, the purple skinned race I don't know the name of, and even the towering forms of the giant-like race I'd spied on the first day in the Skinned Lizard.

Thankfully, everyone was relatively respectful of my strict barrier on sexuality for the night, which had considerably confused quite a few men that had approached to proposition me for all sorts of things. I honestly felt bad about the whole thing, oddly, as there were more than one group having as close to sex as you could have without Lucae throwing you into the 'red room'.

Instead of simply pushing the men away and make selective conversation like I normally would, I realised that particular tactic would leave me all on my lonesome for the night in such an overtly affectionate and sexually charged environment. If I let word get out in the party that I wasn't interested, it was unlikely that anyone would bother to approach me at all.

So in a flash of social brilliance, I devised another reason that one might want to interact with me, other than the promise of sex, as flattering as it might be. That reason was a dance.

There was a dancefloor that was being used more as simply a place to stand, the musicians playing music that just meshed with the mood of the party rather than anything you'd classically dance to. It just so happened that the type of music that meshed with the atmosphere bored the musicians to tears, itching to play something more challenging for a crowd.

With barely a few words, I convinced them to do just that, and after finding Lucae and propositioning him with a dance, I led the stunned man to the dancefloor.

Prior to my few weeks of traversing social circles, I had been almost afraid of dancing. It was definitely a holdover from my time on Earth, the idea of dancing being the most mortifying possible concept and an excellent way to showcase your two left feet. Yet, I'd quickly come to realise that I was dumb.

The Sharah was anything you wanted it to be. It was a reflection of life and movement itself, and movement was as multifaceted as your imagination was. That first dance with Lucae had been extraordinary.

It helped that the other man had clearly learnt to dance at some point, though he was used to being the lead, and had tried to commandeer my movements at the beginning. I didn't let that last long, fixing him with a sultry smile, seductive in a way that bordered a sexual innuendo, but mostly just told to give into my own lead.

After the man relinquished his hold on that quiet clamour of control, the subsequent movements flowed across the dancefloor, the Sharah begging in my bones to be let loose past even the confines of the relatively large space. I could feel the movements vibrate the air around us, and I knew that Lucae could as well, each step I guided him through gave him a small pang of, 'oh, I understand'.

Over the course of the dance, it had changed from something almost sexually suggestive on Lucae's part, to a pure pleasure of movement and athleticism—something I'm not sure that Lucae had ever specifically delighted in. When the musicians had finally completed their heated rendition of some famous piece I'd heard at a few other parties, I stopped the dance and pulled away from the man, bowing at my waist formally.

"That was…" he had begun, standing in silence for a few moments more as he panted with exertion, "different." I could remember laughing at the word. so packed full of indescribable emotion, only able to be expressed by a warm hug from the party's organiser, followed by a chaste kiss on my cheek. After that, it was an absolute blur of dance after dance.

Some were battles between me and another who had clearly learnt dancing at a high level, some others were simply a hope to be taken on a trip of a lifetime. It was a surprisingly deep action, stemming from something deep inside me and also meshing so completely with my divinity, of the Hearth itself.

Each dance was interspersed with conversation, from business to deeply personal. It was surprising how much I learned after that; each conversation painting pictures of the social dynamics that surrounded Crossroads' elite.

I talked with Lucae candidly about his father's business, and how he felt as if he was trapped by the intense amount of wealth and the knowledge that it came from slave trade, and possibly worse. He told me of his fears, that he'd one day get too curious and begin looking at the real ledgers that sat in his father's hidden safe, and what he'd find in them when he did.

I talked to a lovely woman, Heri Molts, the estranged daughter of one of the more powerful Officials in Crossroads. Why she ran from her mother's iron grip and how her dive into depression and debauchery had begun with the understanding of what her mother does, or what she ignores to line her own pockets.

I talked with the man who had been the best dancer of the night, Emery Iskan, and the fears he held in his heart about the man he spent his nights with. The fears that one day he'd be thrown away, just like he had countless times before, and be traded for someone who could never say no, or be forced to say yes because of the power the other man held over his head.

I talked with men and woman that lived on the edges of the gangs, the only reason they aren't persecuted and oppressed by them was that they allied with them, to protect themselves originally. But then came the drugs and alcohol, the money that would feed their family for days in a single night's work.

Here is where I found the broken and disenfranchised. An integral piece in the puzzle I was trying to create in my mind.

I had those of the Skinned Lizard and the Gek woman, Lauka, to help me find my way in the world of the hidden and invisible. I had Valeri, Lucae, and the rest of who I'd met that night to help me find my way in the glaring lights that casted the darkest shadows.

It wasn't much of a beginning, lacking contacts and understanding amongst far too many groups to possibly call myself knowledgeable, but it was something. Yet, there was a large piece of the puzzle missing in my brain, something that I wanted to find and slot it in within everything else I had to work with.

"Lucae," I had said to the man, whispering into his ear as the early morning began to spill through the windows, pulling his sharp attention with my tone, "I would like to speak with you, privately."

The man, as frivolous and belligerent as he might seem, was as sharp as a tack. He quickly led me through the many corridors of his estate, shaking himself of the effects of weariness and whatever recreation he may have been partaking in.

He had ushered me into a large sitting room, which was clearly sparse and relatively unused, but across a low table sat two highbacked chairs that looked exorbitantly comfortable. We quickly sat, only confirming their comfort, and he had stared at me questioningly. I had taken my time in answering, settling into the seat, crossing my legs and finally steepling my fingers on my thigh.

"I'm sorry I have to ask you this question, Lucae." I smiled apologetically, "But I want to know what you know about the Shadow Walkers." The flamboyantly dressed man lost any and all humour in his disposition, showing a raw and serious side to Lucae that you'd only know existed if you'd seen it or were an empath capable of feeling the emotions of others. He ran his hand over his mouth, quickly smoothing out the smattering of eclectically styled facial hair that he had almost continuously twirled into different positions throughout the night.

"Maximilian, dear." The man's voice had almost been more of a sigh, "I really wish you hadn't asked that of me." The words might've been worrying if I couldn't see just how taboo the topic was to Lucae. There were a few minutes of the man building enough internal strength to speak, and when he did, they were shaky and full of conflict. "There are a few of them, and they operate within the Brauhm Empire, usually."

"How many?" I had asked, but the man grimaced unsurely.

"Five? At least the ones that have worked here. I can't be sure. All the information I have is from my father's ledger, from the last time I took a look at it." The last time being when Lucae was a child.

"So, they're assassins." I stated easily, and Lucae nodded with a dark expression on his angular features.

"They are masters of it, better than anyone in Crossroads. My father might be powerful financially, but even he can't sway them with all of his wealth. They are a spectre that sits over the heads of the rich and powerful in Crossroads, and even in Brauhm, readying a blade over their necks for the moment that someone pays them enough to kill their target." The man had looked me dead in the eyes after that, the clear hazel disks holding a powerful plea, something I'm almost certain was a very unusual expression on the normally carefree man's face.

"We may not be friends, having barely known one another long enough to say we're acquainted, but please don't chase shadows. They might contain something you aren't prepared for, and I'd hate to see your corpse become gossip for the stone hearted socialites."

How many times had someone worried about me now? A few times at least. They tried to protect me from some unknowable enemy, not understanding that they were exactly what I was seeking out, that the danger was nothing to me. I remember laughing at the man gently, standing to sit on the low table right in front of him and placing my hand on his arm softly.

"I'll be quite alright, Lucae. Don't you worry about me." The small flash of a fire's light in my eyes was all it took for the expression of dawning realisation appear on Lucae's face, though I had already begun my exit before I had been able to see it bloom fully, leaving the man forever on the edge of understanding without true confirmation.

That night had led to many more before I'd found what I was truly looking for. Before I found the man I was currently standing across from with a warm smile, despite the ugly expression on his face and his friend that stood at his side, ready to draw his blade at a moment's notice.

"What do you want, Mister Maximilian Avenforth?"


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Kreiverin!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 76: Harsh Shadows

I gave the man standing across from me a once over, keeping a mask of pleasantry up the whole time. He was a fairly stylish man, wearing a slightly different, more complicated outfit than most in Crossroads bothered with. Consisting of lots of reds and golds, the robes mixed with more regular formal clothing created a distinctly upper class but slightly foreign effect, something I'm sure he capitalised on to great effect.

"Well now, no need for the hostility." I said relaxedly, holding up my hands in mock surrender. The lead man squinted his brown eyes suspiciously at me while running a hand through his slightly curly golden locks, far brighter than Rethi's own sandy blonde.

"Oh, I think I do need the hostility, Avenforth." He spat with some small amount of anger, "You might be able to food the rich idiots into accepting your little tirade through the social circles, but you can't fool me so easily."

"Tirade?" I asked placidly, moving a step towards the other man. However, before I could move forward another step, the man two his left rattled the sword that sat at his side warningly.

I turned my eyes towards the other man, finding him wearing something more akin to my own suit rather than the far more elaborate layers of robes that his friend wore. It was formal military in nature, of course, though of what particular military or policing force the particular uniform belonged to was lost on me. Though in some small places there was little insignias of a blazing sun, only adding to the veracity of the information I'd received.

"Yes, your tirade." The golden-haired man said scornfully, "I was there the night you appeared from nowhere, whisking Valeri Ephars away with barely a few minutes of chatting. You have no background to speak of, and no peerage to fall back on. You are nothing more than an imposter." I raised an eyebrow amusedly, all my other features pulling into a humorous smile.

"And when have I claimed that I was anything more than just that, Illias Traniel?" I turned from the incensed expression of that man and looked deeper into his partner's.

He wasn't a beautiful man like the man beside him, but his physique, posture, and even his expression was clearly born through training and hardship. The man's slightly darker skin was still pale in comparison to Valeri's own astoundingly dark skin, but its natural hue was likely not all that different than the pale man who served as his commander.

"You claimed that you were more than that when you imposed on the grounds of the Brightspark!"

"If you're foolish enough to believe that everyone that rests within the Brightspark is exactly who they say they are, then sure." I retorted nigh instantly, not even looking at Illias, more interested in his stoic friend. There was a small gasp of offense, but I waved the retort he was cooking up away, "Honestly, Illias, I could care less about your petty ego. I'm here, in this shitty little room, because you accepted my request to meet and set this as your desired location."

I gestured around us at what amounted to an unused cellar underneath a foreclosed-on bar in the north-west quarter. It was musky and dark, the only furniture being a decently sized wooden table and a slew of chairs surrounding it.

"So, either you love exploring the grimiest places in the city, for which I'd recommend the latrines, or you have information that you wouldn't mind leaving your hands if something of an equal weight is placed within." The other man almost growled with irritation, but eventually flipped the side of his cloak and sat in a chair around the table, clearly expecting me to take the opposite side, which I did.

His military friend didn't sit, standing by his side with a somewhat wary gaze, hand never quite leaving the short sword he held at his side.

"Fine, what do you want to know?" The man said as he leaned back in his chair, probably being as impolite as possible.

"What's your tie to the Brauhm Empire?" Illias looked at me drolly.

"And why would I tell you?" I returned the droll look.

"Because your relative status would tell me how much you might know about the given topic, or if you'll end up with more information by my simply explaining it. Information security, you see." Illias scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Sixth son of Rayfar Traniel, head chair of the Bel-Far Merchant Conglomerate," I gave the man a look and the continued on begrudgingly, "here to establish political ties and do some basic cost benefit before Bel-Far considers investing." I raised an eyebrow again.

"Considers investing?" I laughed lightly, "That's pretty rich coming from the representative for one of the strongest mercantile powers behind legitimising the slave trade between Brauhm and Vahla." Both Illias and his military subordinate bristled.

"The Bel-Far Conglomerate do not–"

"Do not bullshit me, Illias." I let the relatively amiable gaze dry up and become a scathing glare, apparently intense enough that the military man shifted subtly into a defending stance. "The Bel-Far Conglomerate pump massive amounts of money through Crossroads to keep that trade alive, even as the incompetent 'nobility' in Vahla risk an uprising to keep their pockets lined."

As I looked into the face of the slightly stricken man across from me, I realised just how angry I was. The talk of slavery and injustice had been so far off not too long ago, but now one of the perpetuators, one of the many fingers of a morally bankrupt, man-made eldritch horror sat right in front of me daring to assume an innocent guise.

"You." I said, turning towards the military man who was shocked to even be addressed, though it didn't show on his face. "Who are you?" I intentionally tapered off the heat in my voice, despite the anger I had for his superior.

"Garrian, sir." He said warily, though a strictly respectful tone was used. Probably something beat into him in his service.

"Your family name? Title?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. I had done at least some research on the Brauhm Empire and their ways, including how they shamed people and stripped any of rights away.

"I have been disinherited by the Emperor and Brauhm's will." He said stonily, though I could feel the hurt as I forced him to say the words. I almost felt bad for the man if I wasn't about to use it to defend him in my next sentence.

"Disinherited, hm?" I turned to Illias and fixed him with a burning gaze, "And how, exactly, did he come to work under your employ?" Illias screwed up his nose at me with an imperious look.

"I acquired him from Military prison and as a part of his sentence, he works under my employ." The vile man was about to continue onwards, his filthy mouth about to spout more casual evil, but I'd heard enough.

"For no money, with no standards of living, with a contract that can be extended in perpetuity on a technicality, with absolutely no control over what they'll be doing, who they'll be working with, or what they are ordered to do." I stopped briefly, the string of cold words leaking from me in smooth sequence, "Does that sound familiar to you, Illias Traniel?"

I placed each and every word with a precise measure, impacting against both of the men's emotional states and psyches. Yet even when Illias' mouth opened, presumably to defend himself or the company, or even the Empire his company hides behind, I switched tactics entirely. With a newfound amiable grin, I cut in before the man.

"But, again, that's hardly what I'm here for. Everything in its due time, yes?" The almost happy words seemed to terrify the man more than he'd like to let on, even his compatriot was sufficiently perturbed despite his stoic façade. While I might not exactly be capitalising on my combat prowess just yet, there was certainly something to be said for a dangerous social presence as well.

"What are you really here for, then?" Illias asked, trying to reinsert his own presence and gain a foothold, but he only managed to sound weak and scared, even to his subordinate.

"Well," I began as if I was beginning a fairy tale, "one night, a few nights ago now, I came across some very interesting information about a little group of assassins, I believe." Illias immediately went stock still, a little colour draining from his face.

"I didn't learn all that much about them, just the name they go by and a few little tidbits about just who they'd be involved with." I let my overly cheery, but convincingly genuine gaze bore into the other man, throwing him off his own game even further.

"I don't know–" I cut him off again as if he'd never spoken in the first place.

"You see, I have a sneaking suspicion that there are a good few people outside of Crossroads orchestrating some… advantageous situations to control its internal political climate. Quite the scandal if true, but let's be honest, it's pretty stock standard when it comes to combating political insurrection in very profitable investments, isn't that right Illias?" The man in question was losing control over his mask completely now. He'd been sent here to cut his teeth on an actually important endeavour, one that was important enough to use the services of a covert group of possible shifter assassins.

However, the only reason why Illias Traniel was here, rather than any other competent politician or merchant was because of nepotism. He might be a half decent power in his own element, building his own little social web of the elite in Crossroads, but faced up against me who had all the social power of a sledgehammer, he floundered as the conversation was no longer governed by the strict social 'rules' of courts and upper-class idiocy.

"So, I will make this nice and clear for you, Illias." I stated merrily, "Tell me about Shadow Walkers."

And so he did.

Thankfully, there were no glaring mistakes with my already presumed understanding of the Shadow Walkers. They are even 'officially' called as such. The Shadow Walkers are effectively Church sponsored assassins, though they aren't really beholden to the Church either. They are implicitly tied to the Brauhm Empire and are taught to 'walk in the Shadow of Brauhm's Light', which seems a little against the point. Because of just how intertwined the Church of Daylight and the Brauhm Empire itself are, the Shadow Walkers quite literally double as a covert operative sect for the Empire itself, meddling in secular affairs on the regular.

So, when the Shadow Walkers went from being entirely under the thumb of the Daylight Church to quite a few very powerful and very devoted members splintering from the Church itself and establishing themselves as their own entity, things got messy fast.

Apparently they went a little too wild for a while there, assassinating the heads of multiple different extremely powerful households. Though soon enough they started to get the hang of their own political power, something they'd borrowed understanding of from the extremely politically conservative Church of Daylight, who'd play political chess with assassinations. Over the course of a few generations of household heads, the Shadow Walkers managed to prune the political environment to their liking and now they focus on growing the Brauhm Empire under the command of the Emperor that they managed to put into power in the first place.

While I had expected some of this, I didn't expect them to be so… controlling. I had expected a hire for cash band of shifting assassins, not a religious order of Brauhm nutcases that seek to destabilise and conquer the world. It didn't entirely make sense why they did jobs for hire, though I guess it might be a ploy to trick the lower-level powers in and out of Brauhm into thinking that they are just assassins who are fickle with their jobs. If true, they probably only take a job when it's politically advantageous to either them or the Brauhm Empire, or its a complete dummy job to spread the rumours.

Clever bit of politics there.

"Well," I began flippantly, staring at the gutted fish that was Illias Traniel, "I honestly thought you'd be more stupid than that, but I guess you can be a blithering idiot and still possess a few wits to work with."

"What's my payment, then?" The man asked, ignoring the insults as he ground his teeth together. He knew full well that he was in absolutely no place to ask for any payment at all.

"And why do you deserve payment, idiot?" I asked succinctly as I stood from my chair.

"Because I can be an inside man within the Bel-Far Conglomerate and the Brauhm Empire." He said instantly. Maybe he really wasn't an idiot. I could feel within his mind a surety that I was a wave to be ridden on, even if it meant he was going against the usual tide.

"And I should trust you?" I asked simply. He swallowed heavily and was about to speak before a very dark tone shattered the moment, the thunderous words echoing from Garrian's mouth.

"You wish to betray the Empire?"


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Kreiverin, Andrew P.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 77: Insurrection

Garrian pulled his superior up from the chair her was sitting in by his collar. The pompously dressed man, with no athleticism to speak of, only just managed to keep his footing when Garrian pushed against his chest.

Though the heavy kick to his gut sent him sprawling across the ground, rolling limply up against the filthy cellar's stone floors.

"Garrian–" The other man in the room, the one who had so easily twisted Illias' allegiances piped up to speak, but Garrian wouldn't have it. He turned a set of blazing eyes on the man, even Garrian himself was surprised at just how enraged he was.

"Shut up." Garrian's eyes connected with Maximilian's for a moment, and while he hardly seemed all that perturbed by the command, he sit back slightly honouring the command.

"Garrian, what are you doing?" The whelp of a man on the floor gasped, scrabbling backwards from Garrian's own much taller and much more muscled form.

"You want to betray the Empire, Traniel? After all you've done to me?" Illias recoiled on the ground, as if he were burnt by the burning words. Garrian looked down on Illias, watching as the beautiful robes and clothing were smeared with grime, the man's lily-white skin marred with an angry scrape on his chin, and his blonde hair thrown into disarray as dirt and other detritus had tangled themselves in it.

"Done to you?" The man asked back incredulously, though he wilted as he saw the explosion of rage on Garrian's face.

"Don't play a fool Illias, you bought me! You could have let me live my life in that damn cell, and in ten years I could leave, but you bought me, you bastard!"

"You were going to be bought anyways! Lucky it was me rather than–" The strike against Illias' face was so viscerally satisfying to Garrian. He'd had to follow this dreg of a human being, cutting apart far too many people for political convenience. He was a warrior of Daylight, not a mercenary. Or at least he used to be.

"Don't you dare." The words were cold, a different kind of anger filling Garrian as he found that his hand had wandered onto his sword's hilt as was pulling it out of its sheath.

"Maybe you shouldn't have committed your crimes then, Garrian!" Illias snarled, though the remark came off as weak. Garrian could feel any symbol of rage leaving his expression, instead filling it with a stone-cold heart.

"You have no idea what my 'crimes' were, do you? You know all the merits and the training, like a product description, but you still haven't bothered to even look into it have you?" The look of terror on the man's face as Garrian slowly revealed his metal almost seemed to leech power into Garrian's bones, goading him into lording over the man who'd done as much to him.

"Of course I did!" Illias said, his eyes fixed on the blade in Garrian's grip as he tried to press himself into the wall, "What am I supposed to do when the Church tells me that it's a matter of 'internal importance'?"

Garrian let the two words roll over his tongue idly as his mind delved into the deep and dark memories, the memory of a particularly cold night and an extended hand he'd rejected.

"A matter of internal importance." He repeated finally, cold eyes boring into the man in front of him, "To reject a Shadow Walker's training would be sufficient, don't you think?"

Illias' expression paled even further, going an ashy grey that you could only truly see on a man when they knew they were going to die.

"What? I–"

"You didn't know. Of course you didn't, because you're an imbecile and everyone thinks so." Garrian laughed harshly, his hands shaking with the want to plunge his sword into the man's chest, "Your father sent you out here because he thought you'd manage to get yourself assassinated if you stayed in the Empire, and you think the 'bandits' we encountered on the way to this cesspool were a coincidence? It was your brothers, you fool."

Each new word was a decisive drum against which Garrian beat, the noise echoing throughout the room as he bellowed into the man's face. The words that had been hanging over his heart for so long were finally vocalised.

"Good Gods, is he really that dull?" A new voice cut in, reminding Garrian that the room had another inhabitant with a start. Garrian turned his cold fury on the other man looking him over intently.

Maximilian Avenforth still sat just as he had not minutes before, totally undisturbed by the sight of a man about ready to slit another's throat. The man was dressed elegantly with clothing almost reminiscent of Garrian's own military garb, though far finer than what the military would give to any but the highest of ranking personnel. His slightly longer brown hair coincided with his similarly brown eyes, and the slight dusting of facial hair was directly dichotomous with the formality of his dress.

Maximilian raised an eyebrow amusedly at the enraged Garrian, "What? Is a man not allowed to interrupt a murder when he sees the beginning of one?"

The simple words almost shocked Garrian with their starkness. The man almost seemed entirely detached from the situation itself. It was then the Garrian realised that they were being played like an instrument.

"You." Garrian said, his words boiling with the heat of his anger at once again being used as a tool, just another pawn.

"Me." The man replied easily, but once again with little respect to the gravity of the situation around him. "You know that you can't kill him, right?" Garrian stopped, hand clenching around his sword's hilt more powerfully than it ever had before.

Of course, the flippant man was right. Killing Illias Traniel would be a disaster in the making. The news of his death would come fast, especially with how frequently he and the Bel-Far Conglomerate communicated. With confirmation of his death, the clear culprit would be his subordinate, and they would hardly care to investigate too hard, especially not when his death would come with so little political importance to the rest of the Conglomerate.

Garrian would be made an example of, and Illias' death would be a spectacle used to dissuade an uprising. Garrian wouldn't even be surprised if the cold and callous Rayfar Traniel would send a Shadow Walker just to slaughter him, to send another important political message to the world.

An eye for your life, a tooth for your family's.

That didn't mean that Garrian's hate wouldn't spend itself on trying to bore a hole through the flippant man's head, however.

"As soon as you jam a sword into his just, your life may as well be over, Garrian. You need a better solution." Garrian growled at the man deeply, the powerful muscles in his jaw bulging with intensity.

"And you're here to give me one?" Maximilian shrugged off the man's accusatory words, smiling casually at the seething man.

"I wasn't. In fact, I was only here for information about the Shadow Walkers. I could have cared less about Illias, aside from his inevitable involvement in what I have in the works. But now the plan has changed, if you want a part in it that is."

Garrian snorted derisively, teeth grinding, "You just want me to court death under another master."

"That isn't fair, Garrian." The other man's voice went flat, his eyes warning, "I'm not offering you slavery under another master, I'm offering you a part in a plan that might just earn you a little freedom from your bonds."

"And by doing so I'll be putting myself in more danger than just dying." Maximilian nodded, his hair swaying gently as his did so.

"Indeed you will." The man rose from his seat, showing off his almost impressive height, one that Garrian only just managed to rival within a few inches. The man didn't walk so close to Garrian for it to be a challenge, but as his tasteful leather shoes clicked across the filthy stone of the cellar's floor, Garrian found a strange intimidation in the man's form. He walked like a warrior, talked like a politician, dressed like his military superiors, and held a secret power, one that even Garrian could feel gently radiating off of him like warmth from a campfire.

"I'm sure that it will be one of the more dangerous endeavours you'll participate in throughout your life. If you stop with this, that is." Maximilian stood just a metre away from Garrian now, his brown eyes searching Garrian's own for something.

"On with it, then." Garrian said after a long moment of semi-lucid contemplation through the haze of anger and injustice. The man nodded, looking over to Illias who was still sprawled out on the floor and letting his gaze travel between the two that now inadvertently held his fate in their hands.

"Simply, you'll be my contact and Illias will be a puppet." Illias squawked with the start of an indignant tirade, but Garrian shut him up with a glare.

"And how, exactly, do you think I'll even be able to pull that off?"

"You're standing right next to the man however many hours of the day, you have all the dirty secrets you could get, you even seem to have an actual understanding of the politics around his family, at least one that's better than whatever he's got." Maximilian waved a hand dismissively to the man who now laid on the ground, covered in grime instead of on his little high horse.

"I said that I'd do what you want!" Illias managed to squeak, though the layer of cold sweat reappeared as soon as both Maximilian and Garrian turned to stare at him.

"And I don't trust you. I'd sooner trust a man who has somehow managed to restrain himself from killing you for Gods know how long." Maximilian ignored the drivel that Illias began to spout, turning back to Garrian.

"Other than that, I'll be backing you any way that I can. I'll hold on to any sensitive information, and if I can't get a hold of you, then it all somehow finds its way to the public eye. I don't have much of a framework set up just yet, but it won't take long, I assure you."

"And why should I trust you?" Garrian said pointedly, his face morphing into one confused between anger and dubiousness.

"Good question." Maximilian said easily, but shrugged, "No earth-shattering reason, really. Other than you actually managing to live a few days after this little incident. That is, unless the clown is satisfied with mutual suicide."

Garrian's mind began to whir furiously, trying to both find reasons to ally himself with the man, and also reasons not to do so. If he did, he'd be risking everything, but just having this conversation was damning enough so he was already in the thick of it. He could run away, but that had never ended well for any of the others that'd done so. The Conglomerate weren't kind to runaways, and they'd use their reach and their money to incentivise his 'return'.

The verdict was coming up clear, but even so, Garrian was hesitant. He might be angry, and have every inclination to be his damnable superior's handler, knowing the good that he could do with the sort of power and influence that Illias and his family name held, even within the Empire itself.

But what would that influence be used for?

"You're hesitant." The other man said calmly, reading into Garrian's expression explicitly, "You have every right to be. Your life as you know it is going to change so severely that you might just get swept up under the tide and never resurface. But I think that will be the same for many others, very soon." Garrian looked into the other man's eyes and found a small fleck of fire in them, enchantingly captivating in the way it moved within the great pools of his eyes.

"There are things peering over the horizon that will only get closer and closer until it's upon us. Between now and then, things have to change, and it begins with us." Maximilian Avenforth shifted forwards slightly, placing a warm and heavy hand on Gillian's shoulder, pulling in right next to his ear and whispering a little collection of words.

"It all begins with an unavoidable insurrection."

When Maximilian pulled back, Garrian managed to catch a single glimpse of his eyes as he did, glowing strongly with a power so definite that it found its own place within Garrian's memories for what would be forever.

The glow disappeared in a moment, leaving Garrian wondering if it had merely been a trick of the light, yet Maximilian smiled a knowing one as he caught Garrian's confused gaze.

Garrian sighed, wondering what thread of fate he'd pulled on to have his life fall down such an odd and mysterious path, but as he stood in front of what he could only assume was a truly blessed man, he found himself unable to resist from saying his next words.

"Let's do it, sir."


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Kreiverin, Andrew P.!

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[Sarius]

Chapter 78: A Rare Rest

The web was forming, clearer now than ever.

The conversation between Illias and I had taken an almost unforeseeable left turn, ending up being more about Garrian and I than the other, more influential man. I had secured myself a way to keep in contact with the man, with a simple messenger or a particular bar that would hold the word for him, and then I'd left with little fanfare.

An insurrection… it was certainly a step up from the minor stunts I'd pulled in Mayer's little road town.

The escalation wasn't free of anxiety, not in the slightest. It was terrifying, even if it was the most competent I'd ever felt in my entire life. I felt like I was a fish in water, the movements as easy as walking was for me now, yet the anxiety never left me now.

The reasoning was obvious, I'd jumped from a pond into a raging river, and I was trying desperately to continue swimming even if it were as natural as anything. Every moment that I thought of something new to add to my web of connections, I was hit with a moment of panic, followed by cold sweats and a sense of overwhelming dread.

Maybe My mind was only now coming around to the reality of the task I'd given myself. To save the worlds, Virsdis and Orisis alike, would be a massive undertaking, and it all started with me getting this right. Then me getting the next thing right, and the thing after that.

I swallowed against the anxiety pushing it down for a scant moment while I walked into the Skinned Lizard far past its regular operating hours. I'd barely been back to the little inn for the past few days, spending my time flitting from party to party, luxurious home to monolithic mansion. But now, I found myself in need of at least some rest.

The interior of the little inn was cosy, a gentle fire flickering in the fireplace and lending its warmth to the rest of the room. The rest of the lights, mostly oil lanterns, were left to slowly peter out in their soundless war against the encroaching darkness.

There was no one in the room, and no one even in the kitchen or backroom where Tek had first held his meeting with me and the others. It was quiet as could be. Yet I knew someone was here, a friendly presence that I soothed me simply by being nearby.

I grabbed a chair from one of the many tables, carrying it easily to right in front of the little fire, glittering in the darkness. I place the chair down backwards, and then sat facing the back of it, leaning on the solid wooden back of it.

"Hello there, brother." I called out gently. There was a little sputter of life from the fire, suddenly possessing a whole new warmth entirely. There was a warm chuckle from within the fire, radiating from it like its very own heat.

"Good evening brother." The God on the other side of that fire said. It was a different voice than last time, a warm and inclusive voice instead of the slightly reedier and bookish tone of the Last Hearth God I'd interacted with.

"Why do I have the pleasure?" There was another chuckle, with what could only be a wide smile accompanying it. I grinned in the eye of the fire as it flickered, waiting for the God's answer.

"Well, our complete lack of pertinent information since the Keeper's arrival was making us look bad, I'd say. I decided I was going to be the one to offer up a little of my own power to have a chat, touch base, all that good stuff." I rose an eyebrow to the luxuriant and endlessly warm tone of the God.

"Have you guys been having a hard time doing any research on the Champions?" The flame flickered back and forth for a moment, almost a gesture of denial.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you. We've located ten or so Champions on Orisis, eleven if you count the one who got himself killed, but it has been slow going on Virsdis' own set of Champions. Maybe they are being more reclusive due to the political instability of most areas."

"So you know where a fifth of the Champions are; what about the others?" I asked wearily, a small pang of dread already overcoming my body.

"We have our leads, some scraps here and there. The ten are the ones we've nailed down completely, most of which are basically marauding murder machines at this point." The God paused to hum thoughtfully, "We have our eyes on a possible twenty others, though at least eight of those leads are questionable at best."

"Any leads on Virsdis?" The flame almost shrugged.

"One or two, one more promising than the other. The promising one will end up leading you north, though it seems like you'll be ending up there as some point in the near future, what with your new puppet socialite." I rolled my eyes, ignoring the pang of anxiety over the reminder that I had yet another task I needed to manage now.

"In the Brauhm Empire." I asked simply.

"Near it." Came the confirmation, though he didn't talk to specifics. I sighed, running a hand through my slightly too long brown hair, feeling against my scalp in consternation.

"We're sorry, you know?" The warm voice rang out again, slightly subdued this time. I scrunched my brows together, at the fireplace.

"Sorry for what?" I asked, though I think I already knew the answer.

"Putting the weight of two worlds on your shoulders." They replied softly, "We spent many years simply hoping that the Champions would never make a return, or that your world's God would pick another place to inflict them upon."

"But he didn't." I cut in, falling into silence for a mere moment.

"But he didn't. And that left us with very few choices. Remarkably few for just how powerful the Hearth Court has grown in the many, many years I've been kicking around."

"What were your choices? What lead you to empower a Champion, and unexceptional one at that?" There was a rumble of laughter from the fire, making the fire pop and crackle emphatically.

"There were other avenues. Maybe empowering one of the residents on Orisis would have been possible, though you underestimate just how hard it is to find a suitable candidate to bless, even a small blessing. Valeri, the blessed of Might your right hand is training, she's a good example of how hard finding someone to bless is. Tarania must've had a heck of a time finding her if she puts up with Valeri doing nothing to better herself." I grudgingly nodded at his point.

"But still, it's a wild move to make. The Hearth Court gave me effective Divinity. The real deal too."

"The real deal is a good way to put it. You're correct, it was a massive decision, one made in no small part due to our older brother's judgement." The other God pointedly avoided saying Gallar's name, likely still worried that invoking his name would draw far too much attention to our covert rendezvous, "Our older brother's word holds an immense amount of sway over our decisions. It was the Court's choice to simply petition the other Courts yet again, as we had done many times during the last War. He had instructed us to search for Mayer Renue, and in the process, we found you."

"And our older brother made that call as well?" The fire chuckled.

"That very day. I believe that it was the first ironclad decision that he has ever made, even the few brothers who have been around longer than I were shaken that he'd made such a determination. It's very unlike him to gamble."

"So it was just his determination? None of you believed in it?"

"No, we weren't quite convinced, not until we saw his conversation with you, and when we first felt your presence compared to his. The decision was unanimous and almost immediate, even if we were unhappy that it'd come to it." His words trailed off into a companionable silence. Though a hundred questions burned in my mind, one in particular forcing its way from between my lips.

"How'd you know?"

"We just did," he replied after a thoughtful hum, "it was as simple as that. You were one of us, and that was the way it was."

"Helpful." I said, a little sourness leaking into my voice, though the God just laughed like you would at a pouting child over something small.

"You underestimate what you are Maximilian. You seem to believe that much of your social prowess comes from the power given to you, forgetting that you were always this way, you just didn't quite understand it as such." I frowned bitterly at the fire, the words of encouragement not quite reaching me past the layer of doubt.

"It doesn't feel like it." I spoke.

"And neither do I feel like a true God. I never have and may never feel as such." The warm voice consoled, "Yet, I am, and I must be."

"But I have to somehow deal with everything down here, and I constantly feel like I'm floundering, just a few steps away from disaster." My bitterness leaked from my mouth without proper warning, though by the end of the sentence I couldn't find fault with those word. The flame in the fireplace grew silent, the only indication that anyone was still there to respond was the distinct feeling of divine, something incomprehensibly complex, but distinctive all the same.

"And there are many platitudes I could spout, but I'd hardly be a good bartender if I didn't have my own wisdom to deliver." The voice was starkly cheery, getting a wry chuckle out of me before it continued onwards, "You've been given the heaviest burden that I could possible think of. It's something so incomprehensibly heavy that I suspect it's not something you could reasonably process at once." The voice trailed off again before resuming a moment later.

"So don't. The far future is the concerns of the Fate Court for now, your own worries should be of the immediate questions. Of Rethi, Alena, and Valeri. Of Oscar, Lucae and Illias. Of Garrian, the Shadow Walkers, the Brauhm Empire. The Champions, for now, aren't relevant, and your first clash with one is something we're actively avoiding at the present. We wish to lead you towards a Champion who will be receptive to your petition, and that is our job to worry about.

"For now, all you must think about is to do what you can, and we will be there to guide once you need it."

There were no words spoken afterwards, the silent goodbye being conducted by our divine energies as they so briefly touched before the God left the little fire, leaving me alone in the slightly cooler room. I left the fire to slowly die over the course of the night, deciding that I would give myself a moment of reprieve from the never-ending treadmill of social advancement, something that I'd been capable of walking through with an ease that came both naturally and divinely to me.

I let myself sleep that night, in the room filled to the brim with all of our packs and supplies. I hadn't experienced sleep, or any significant amount of it, for many months now. Now that I could go entirely without sleep, I'd even begun to find the act of relinquishing your conscious to nothingness for hours unnerving.

Though that night, it was perfect. Within moments of me resting my head to the comfortable pillow, I was asleep.

I dreamed that night, an odd experience when I found my mind was untouched by the alluring agreeableness that a dream usually inflicted. Within it, I wandered in field, destroyed and razed like only a thorough bombing could replicate. It was far too reminiscent of old picture and videos of the wars that had occurred on Earth, the lengths of soul-destroying trenches filled with boys far too young to be allowed to witness the horrors.

Yet I stood in that field, beside me was my hammer, the Soul Weapon that had formed itself out of my soul itself.

I don't know what could possibly have lent it the shape it'd taken, or the properties that it expressed. It would likely be a mystery forevermore, but in here it made a certain sort of sense.

"A heavy burden creates an equally powerful resistance." I said in a strange fugue.

"Cannot the burden be so heavy that it's weight crushes what lies beneath?" I asked myself lightly.

"Yes, but such is the cost. What is crushed beneath will become the essence of the successor's power." I answered.

My hand grasped the hilt of the hammer and found it to be as heavy as ever. Though the weight was more familiar than it had been not too long ago when I'd taken Gallar's blessing, the divine seed now resting within my soul as a small sprout, a single leaf twitching with the promise of what it could soon be.

The weight was casual in my hands, though the monstrous weight of it quaked the earth as I swung it. What was more enormous than its weight, however, is my hammer's potential. The weight ever increased, as long as my own strength did in proportion.

As I thought of it as such, I felt the hammer grow in weight, rivalling my ever-increasing strength. When would it be that a single strike would shake the worlds when it hit? That it would be so powerful as to cause it to crack like an egg would.

I stared around myself, following the holes and trenches scarred into the earth and realised that they weren't that at all. They were movements, they were the Sharah in motion, the terrible destruction they can bring along with an impossible physique and weapon as my own.

There was a moment of horror before the dream was interrupted by the distinct sound of my room's door opening, waking me from the lucid experience, and launching me back into reality, casting an eye towards Rethi, who stood at the door with a metal mask covering his face.

"Uh, good morning?"

"Morning." I grumbled.


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, Kreiverin, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron; Andrew P.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 79: Minder

Valeri had walked slowly this morning, allowing herself to rest her mind before she confronted the day with the new information she now has.

Maximilian was looking for the Shadow Walkers. The mere notion of that statement was almost incomprehensible to her. The Shadow Walkers were a living death sentence, arbiters of all that passed through their long shadows.

She didn't know how to feel, she couldn't help but feel the man would have his reasons, but she'd only known him for less than a few hours. She'd spent many times that with the man who called him master, Midday.

She had decided the day before, however, that she'd confront Midday. She'd ask what they were doing, what they were planning, and then make a determination from there.

Despite the slow walking, she arrived at their spot faster than she'd expected—her mind in a daze of thought and warping her perception of time itself. She was once again standing not fifty metres from the cloaked form of Midday, standing quite a few inches shorter than herself, though it gave her no comfort.

"Took your time." Midday's voice rang out across the field of relatively flat ground, though not flat enough that it wouldn't throw off your balance if you weren't being aware.

"Sorry." She said reflexively before cringing at herself, the plan of brining at least some momentum into the conversation had been quashed so easily. Regardless of the weak footing, she quickly continued into the beginning of her interrogation.

"Why are you training me?" Midday, who was getting ready to recite a list of exercises he'd have her perform, frowned at being interrupted.

"Do you not want to be trained?" He asked drolly, making Valeri almost scowl.

"You know that's not what I mean. Why are you training me? What's your goal?" He looked at her from within the mask, the piercing green lacking any golden power at current.

"Because I was ordered to."

"And you don't have any idea what Maximilian is doing right now?" She said quickly, digging into something that she hoped was soft earth. The man's eye went slightly harder, enough to tell Valeri that Midday was distinctly unhappy with that question.

"I know enough of what he is doing. If there is something he truly needs from me in the meantime, then I will be told." Valeri almost grinned, her socialite senses were tingling at the faint taste of some frustration in her trainer's voice.

"And looking for the Shadow Walkers isn't a big enough deal for you to be told?" She said, her words sharper than she'd ever used on the other man. She'd expected some sort of reaction, but when the man's shoulders eased ever so slightly from their tensed position, she was a little flabbergasted.

"Ah, I see." He said casually, bobbing his head from underneath his hood, "You've had someone keep an eye on what Master Max has been up to?" Although it wasn't the complete truth, she nodded regardless. No need to lessen your own power by saying that a subordinate did it regardless of your own orders.

"Then you seem to still have no conception of just who Master Maximilian is, even with you keeping an eye on him." Midday laughed coldly, though Valeri compensated by adding heat to her tone as she lashed back.

"Of course I have no idea! I've barely talked to the man, and yet here I am, being trained by one of his flunkies!" She growled at the man loudly, pulling herself just short of yelling.

"And you think you merit him spending his time on? Again, you seem to be underestimating my master." Midday took off his cloak, folding it precisely. It revealed a sight that Valeri had seen numerous times, and she'd always found herself grudgingly impressed by the man's physique. However, what had always broken up the look was a tattered sword that Midday seemed to always have strapped to his lower back, the decrepit handle peeking from his side for easy grabbing.

"Am I not worth spending time on? I'm the sole heir to the Ephars businesses and fortune and am a blessed of Might. Is that not enough?" Valeri said almost bitterly. Midday didn't snort derisively like she had half expected, instead he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, his sandy blonde hair swaying as he did so.

"No." He said simply, filling her with even more indignant confusion, "All you are doing is showing how little you understand what my master's goals are. You'll need to be far more impressive to come close to being worth his time."

It wasn't that Midday had taken a harsh tone; it was that the tone was filled with an absolute surety. There was absolutely no doubt in Midday's tone, he spoke with such blatant honesty that it only baffled Valeri more. What could Maximilian's goals be for her to be nothing in the scope of it?

"What, is he trying to rule the worlds or something?" She snorted, failing to keep the slight offense out of her voice. Yet when she looked back to Midday, focusing back on his eyes, she found herself confronted by a terrifying understanding.

"If that is what it takes." Midday intoned heavily, and she could swear that the air vibrated with the words as he said them. Though, she couldn't help but ignore them, her mind coming to a conclusion she'd almost dreaded.

"Oh Gods, you're insane." She murmured, backing away a step almost hesitantly. But Midday stood absolutely still.

"Insane?" Midday said thoughtfully, "Maybe. The goal we seek is so far out of your wheelhouse that you couldn't possibly comprehend its magnitude. Yet my master told me that you were to be trained. To us, you are a piece of the puzzle that will eventually serve in the grander picture." Midday took a step forwards, uncrossing his powerful arms and using his right to reach behind his side and grab onto the hilt of the worn and tattered sword, one that looked like it had been nothing more than a showpiece sword when it was new.

Valeri, fearing that the man was going to legitimately attack her, reached towards her back and leaned the massive claymore out of the straps that bound it to her back. She positioned the blade ahead of her, even though she knew that the gesture was pointless. Midday was capable of overwhelming her even as she threw everything at him, with his bare hands no less.

"You are just one piece in a wider puzzle, and to be anything more than that would require far more dedication than even what you're showing now." Midday's tone was soft, almost as if he were mentally removed from his own physical actions, "Do you want to see what it would take to be more than what you are?"

The question shook Valeri as her eyes glanced across the man's form and to the battered sword he now casually held in his hands as if it were an extension of his body. She adjusted her stance minutely as her mind tried to filter through the patterns of attack he could take, desperately seeking for a method of survival. She didn't answer the question, but it seems that Midday had determined that she'd agreed.

Midday nodded slowly before taking in a large breath, enough to fill his chest to the brim with air, then then slowly let it out as everything changed.

In that moment, Valeri could only believe that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The man before her began to glow with a powerful gold, exactly the same as he had worn on countless occasions during her training, and yet it was so much more powerful now. No, not just powerful…

Divine.

The light bled off of him with an intensity that she could only equate to the sun itself, the rays of light burning with the quiet heat of the midday sun. She gasped as she saw the change to the sword in his hands, from a tattered thing into a warm bronze metal. The metal was burnished by the sun itself, as if it were a piece of the sun's rays that had been broken off and then forged into metal.

Questions that Valeri didn't even know she had were being answered as she watched the man, who may be younger than her, transform into something so far beyond her comprehension.

He was not just named Midday. He was midday.

He shone with midday's light, the heat of its rays against her skin. He shone with the Sun's full power, a reflection of the impossible might that the celestial body wielded.

She was tiny in his presence, any Might that she had at her disposal was nothing against what he represented. Her own blessing was powerful, yet it had been something she'd almost entirely ignored throughout her life. Now, however, she was faced with a being of Divinity, watching the Sun's power course across Midday's skin like rivers of ever-burning gold.

She gasped under the pressure that the power gave off, as if the presence of it was enough to smite the unworthy, the blasphemous.

"Do you understand?" Midday's voice called, clear even through the ruching blood through Valeri's ears and the thundering heartbeat. Valeri nodded rapidly, gasping for air under Midday's power, and in a blink the oppressive power was gone. In its stead, there was the glorious warmth of the comforting sun.

"A Demigod?" She gasped, looking up to Midday's eyes, the irises now a perfect mixture of the sea-green and gold, intermingling to create the most powerful colour she'd ever seen.

Midday laughed warmly, a note of elation in his own voice, "No. Demigods are… different than even this, Valeri. They are more in their essence." The esoteric words meant nothing to Valeri, but her mind made the connection, just as she realised that Midday had intended her to.

"Maximilian." She said simply. He didn't nod, or respond in any way shape or form, but she knew that she was right. Maximilian wasn't just a man, not just any man. She had wondered why she'd been so drawn to him, that she'd even considered that she might have been in love with him, for just a moment within those first days.

She had wondered why she was made so easily smitten within less than a day's worth of conversation. She had wondered why she felt as if he could see to the very core of her being with little more than a glance, stripped bare in front of his mundane looking eyes.

It was because he was no man at all. He was far, far more than that. And now that she understood, she came to a conclusion, one that defied the way she'd seen herself within the world since she was born.

No, she wasn't worth Maximilian's time. She was nothing in the face of him and his goals.

"Valeri." Midday said, his words almost softly consoling her as she came to the devastating reconceptualization of her sense of self, "Once, I was a beggar. Worth nothing, and capable of even less. I was nothing, in the face of him, even back then. Now, he has allowed me to become more." He gestured to himself gently, the action almost regal. She gawked at the words, the severe dichotomy between a beggar and who he was now.

"How?" She asked simply. She could see the slight crinkles at the sides of his eyes underneath the mask, and he then held the sword out in one hand, loosely holding it within his grip.

"I will tell you, if you can survive against a single blow of my sword."

Valeri gulped against the rising fear, a perfect understanding that she couldn't possibly survive against the man's overwhelming power. But even as she understood, she couldn't help but let the words slip out from between her lips, her eyes burning with the determination she'd tried so hard to truly get a grasp of her entire life.

"Do it." She said, her face pulling into a grimace while she waited, she expected the domineering blow to flash out and end her.

When Midday's arm moved, her mind slowed it all down so she could examine his every movement as the bronze blade shone with the Sun's cruellest rays. The sword inched closer and closer, slow in the molasses of her perception. She tried to force her body to react fast enough to block it, yet she moved impossibly slow in comparison.

She realised, after a few heavily warped moments, that she wasn't going to be able to block the blow, or even come close. So instead, she decided to twist her body away from the approaching blade, dropping her own, and offering up an arm to the bronze metal's hungry edge.

The blade drew nearer still, finding it only centimetres away from her arm. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the scorching pain she was sure she'd experience. Yet it never came, the heat on her skin from the direct rays of sunlight suddenly diminished into something cooler and quieter.

"Lady Ephars, behind me please." An instantly recognisable voice called out, even as an arm shifted her form powerfully away from where she'd been, making her stumble back from where the approaching blade had been.

When she snapped her eyes open, confused by the sudden change in atmosphere, she saw the owner of that familiar voice standing just in front of Midday.

Yeram, her very own attendant, stood there stoically facing the golden man, his entire body cloaked in an undeniable layer of deep shadows. The sabre he held in his hands, a powerfully crafted blade with the flats of the blade covered in runes, leeched shadow like water.

However, before Valeri could even make an exclamation of surprise, Midday's burning aura amplified to a level beyond what he'd shown her. His aura of sunlight was almost impossible to look at without her eyes feeling the searing pain of its brightness.

"Well, I guess we found your little minder." Midday spoke jubilantly, "A Shadow Walker no less. Let's have a good fight, shall we?"


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, Kreiverin, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron; Andrew P.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 80: Warrior Divine

Valeri took a step back as the scene unfolded in front of her.

She hadn't had a moment to even breathe before there was a flurry of blows between the two men in front of her. Each strike that one launched against the other shook the air with the astounding display of physical might. She backpedalled even further as the man who had been serving as her trainer made a mock play for an attack against her.

Valeri would have been offended or shocked, but a quick glance at Midday's face only told her that he could care less about actually going for her life. In fact, he was far too interested in his own battle for that.

The overwhelming Sun against the disappearing Shadow was mesmerising to Valeri, a pure display of just how small she was in the scheme of things. This was a battle that could be waged in a page of any number of history books and she'd barely blink an eye at the flowery language the author would use to exemplify how defining it'd been to an era.

But now that she stood close enough to two figures that seemed out of place in the real world, outside of a grand tale, she couldn't help but relate to those poems that'd seemed so fanciful not so long ago.

"Powerful, for an old man." The exuberant voice of Midday jibed mischievously, a far cry from the hardboiled man that she'd come to know. Yeram, her own attendant who'd revealed himself to be a Shadow Walker, barely changed his disposition at all.

"Only to a young one like you, Rethi." The name rang out over the field with a great deal of power, making her trainer halt for a second. She looked between the two men, appalled that her attendant had somehow managed to discover the other man's name. There was a short peal of laughter from Midday, or Rethi, who easily reached up to his face and ripped off his metal mask, something that'd become a part of his identity to Valeri.

"Honestly, I thought that Valeri would go and find it out but apparently she's a goody-two-shoes."

Valeri was, for lack of a better word, stunned. She'd know that Midday was young, likely younger than her, but seeing his face blew her expectations out of the water.

"You're a kid!" Valeri squawked incredulously, making Rethi laugh heavily even as Yeram's shadowy blade slashed out at him from through the cloak of darkness that seemed to cover his entire body and all of his movements, though Rethi didn't seem to have an issue reading those movements, nonetheless.

"Wait, wait!" Rethi yelped between the blows and his uproarious laughter, "Time out, that's fucking hilarious." Yeram did not stop the blows, though Rethi didn't seem to expect him to either, batting away the blades regardless of the direction they came from.

Yeram being a Shadow Walker was a massive surprise to Valeri, though she had known that he was strong in combat from a few little incidents over the years, yet being a Shadow Walker wasn't exactly the top of her list on his past professions.

The man she'd known most of her life was a machine in combat, capable of spewing forth an unending barrage of blows from behind the wide cloak of shadow that obscured his every movement from sight to the normal eye. Valeri couldn't even follow the movements; he may as well be floating underneath the cloak for all that she could discern.

However, Rethi's gold-green eyes burned through anything. She had felt them on her numerous times, and when he was pulling so deeply on his power that she'd only be able to assume that they were many times more powerful now.

"I was waiting for the moment that Master Max made me reveal my identity, but Gods was this so much better!" The older Shadow Shifter didn't respond, however four blades pierced from the cloak of darkness simultaneously, defying the fact that Yeram had two blades at most.

The boy smacked aside one of the blades, sending the blow wide, letting the three other blades deform into whisps of darkness as they faltered against Rethi's tanned skin. Rethi grinned wolfishly, his own blade launching itself into the cloak at high speed, though Yeram jumped back a few metres with three arrow-like throwing weapons shrieked through the air towards Rethi's flesh.

Each of the three throwing blades were snatched out of the air, fingers pinching them by their flats.

"Well, that's just rude!" Rethi said, throwing them aside and glaring at the other man with some heat. Valeri stepped back a few more metres, eyes going wide with the sudden intensity of the battle. Everything that had happened was only over the course of a few seconds, and it didn't even seem like either of the two men—or many and boy—were actually going at each other with full power.

"Look," Rethi began somewhat lackadaisically, "we both know we aren't going at full blast here." Valeri raised an eyebrow at the strange expression but was too enraptured by the tense moment.

"I could very well kill you for attacking Valeri Ephars, and then your master for the threat he poses." The voice that Yeram spoke in was cold and dangerous, like a raw blade in its essence, screaming murder and pain. Valeri had only ever known the man to speak with a calm and collected disposition, with the rare display of distaste, but never this murderous tone.

"Hah!" Rethi grinned, "You could certainly try, but you'll be in for far more than you think." The glare continued between the men before Rethi spoke again with a sigh.

"Look, we can continue with the fight and all, and I'll probably end up wining because I can see right through every shadow you can muster, but there won't be much to it other than me beating your ass." The boy laughed; the vicious grin still drawn on his face with a savagery that Valeri could barely comprehend. "I won't kill you until Master Maximilian gets to chat with you."

"No." Yeram returned, "He will get no information of the Shadow Walkers from me."

"He won't?" Rethi raised his eyebrow, amused, "Well, good luck trying to tell him that, hey?" Rethi chuckled, and even Valeri joined in briefly before the two men turned to look at her, one gaze being amused and the other being decidedly not.

"I have no idea why a Shadow Walker would be guarding a little girl, though. Care to enlighten?" Rethi said, gracefully pulling the attention away from Valeri who found herself covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"No, I do not care to enlighten you." Yeram replied, his face a mask of cold anger. Rethi, however, seemed immune to the man's stifling presence, the powerful rays of his light piercing through the veil of darkness.

"Ooh!" Rethi said aloud, tapping the tip of his bronze sword against the ground with a gentle ringing noise, "You tried to get out of the game, did you? Had to find a job in the middle of nowhere to get away from the shitstorm you made in the Empire?" Yeram went stock still, the darkness bleeding from the cloak around him rapidly, filling the ground directly around him with a layer of murky black fog.

"I retired." Valeri's attendant intoned darkly, but Rethi just scoffed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was unaware that fanatical religious assassins retired at all!" Rethi swung his arms outwards in an explosive motion of dramatic sarcasm, but his next words didn't possess the same flippancy.

"Don't mess me around, Shadow Walker. My master would pull out all your secrets in moments of speaking to him, and you'd like it. I don't quite have the same ability as he does, so I will substitute charisma for physical violence, if worst come to worst." Valeri gulped harshly against wall of searing heat the boy let off.

Those words were what Midday was to her. Hard and precise, unerring, and powerful. Rethi was the flippant and exuberant boy that surrounded that part of him that held the name Midday. She didn't have the mental capability of treating him as anything other than the man she knew him to be, with the immense power that he and his master held.

Yeram looked at the boy piercingly, both of their auras clashing between each other, Yeram's choking darkness and Rethi's unending light.

"No amount of torture would loosen my tongue, boy." Rethi smiled pleasantly, somehow giving off even more savagery int eh expression than before.

"You don't know what torture is, old man. You might think you do, but you've only had a taste of it." Yeram almost growled at that, an attack on what he was capable of rather than of his legitimacy was what really got him angry.

"I've been tortured more hours than you've ever trained." Rethi tilted his head at the heated statement.

"But have you felt your body change against your will, bending to another's instead?"

The atmosphere had finally reached absolute zero. Both Valeri and Yeram reeled from the statement, both of them being reminded of a few very specific legends that had survived the exile to Virsdis that many had faced. Yeram and Valeri felt the deep mortification within themselves, envisioning an army of monsters, made by melding ten different people and beasts together into an unholy combination that went against any reason.

"You have an Abomination Maker." Yeram growled, his mind alight with the dire need to find and kill the unholy thing that was born with the ability to change a living being into whatever they wished. Valeri almost gasped at the proclamation, having thought that they would never reach Virsdis, or at least having hoped.

"Well, they'd rather you didn't call them that. Life shifter is more apt." Rethi said quietly before sighing sadly, "Will it really take me knocking you down?" Yeram's form changed into a battle stance beneath the cloak that hid his every action. He was preparing to fight to his death, to keep himself and Valeri away from ever interacting with an Abomination Maker, yet he didn't have a moment to move before the boy was upon him, his golden rimmed green eyes were right up against his own.

"You forget your place before the Sun, Walker of my Shadow." The gold-green irises changed in an instant, burning entirely gold with a metallic tinge, the colour bleeding back into his skin like veins of molten gold power within bronzed skin. This was no longer the young boy he'd been speaking to not a moment before; this was something else entirely.

This was a God.

"Kneel," the boy's voice said, coated in a regal power far surpassing Yeram's own, "you are the product of the Sun's light, you are nothing without it." Yeram struggled against the almighty power of the sun bearing down upon him, but as he did, he could only see flashes of the results of his actions. He was destined to become a sun-dried corpse, wasting away in the harshest desert while the few beings that lived there picked at his bare and crumbling bones.

Yeram's legs gave way underneath the power, his knee pressing into the dirt blow, entirely visible now that the full force of the sun revealed all underneath it's watchful gaze. The old Shadow Walker could barely muster the strength to glance up at the boy, whose eyes glowed with a gold power, whose skin was webbed with rivers of golden metal, whose sword burned with the heat of the Sun's nigh infinite power.

The boy was no shifter of light, not like Yeram was a shifter of the darkness. He was no wayward paladin, taught by a defector of the Brauhm Empire's Church of Daylight. No, he was beyond even a blessed like the girl that he'd protected for the majority of her life, and a significant portion of his own.

Yeram, although he appeared only just reaching his middle-aged years, had met many powerful people. He had even come close to being one of those powerful people once. Yet there was only one that even came close to the pure might that Rethi possessed. The Divine power that he held within him.

As Yeram's mind struggled to stay conscious under the force of Rethi's power, it still whirred with a cold calculation that he'd learned to maintain even if he were dying, something that he was exemplary at even amongst his peers.

Rethi was a Divine Warrior. To think that there was another on Virsdis, one so young no less. It was almost unfathomable to him. That there existed two Divine Artifacts on Virsdis, not even ones from the native peoples' Gods.

But maybe that was what he needed.

Yeram watched the boy's blade rise into the sky, piercing the sun for just a moment in his view, before falling down as if the blade was the arbiter of his existence. As the blade pierced his skin and ran through his shoulder and flesh, searing gruesomely, he stared into the boy's eyes as he drew directly from the power of the God who'd once created the blade.

He lost his consciousness with a single thought remaining in his mind, resounding through the void of his sleep.

Maybe, if its him, he could stop them…


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, Kreiverin, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron; Andrew P.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 81: All Kinds

After an awkward wakeup call from Rethi, the day had managed to get itself into a nice rhythm of quiet.

I mostly wandered around Crossroads' main streets and a few of the higher-class areas that I was inexplicably allowed to walk around in, mostly because of how I dressed. After the countless social events and connections that I made at them, I could start to see the looks of recognition from people as I walked by.

It was mostly the other higher-class residents, but I also managed to gain a few gazes from the more common folk as well. I can't say exactly why, apart from the general mode of dress and the confidence in which I held myself, but they recognised me on the streets and typically sought to steer clear.

Fair enough.

Most of the social connections I had were ones I had forged with extreme haste, and I had used many of them to further my quest for information about the Shadow Walkers, as well as some healthy information about the state of Crossroads' as a whole. The city was doing as you'd expect, with merchants throwing around money like nobody's business and paying off the officials that are supposed to represent the interests of the residents and the people that work within Crossroads.

It's not a pretty sight, that's for sure. Crossroads is effectively eating itself alive, with corruption so prevalent and the upper-class citizens holding all the real power, the actual residents and workers hold almost none. Left to just flounder through life as gangs form under the oppression that the residents feel, especially migrants from somewhere even worse, like Vahla.

I couldn't really call upon those connections right now, it all being a little too much too soon, but I'd planted the seeds in them strategically. Currently, the lynchpins of my little insurrectionist ideals were Lucae Milna, Valeri Ephars, Tek, Lauka, and possibly Garrian and Illias.

It was hard to plan an insurrection, to be fair. It was really all about who you knew, and how responsive they were to your cause, and what they could do to aide it.

Lucae Milna, while the black sheep of his family and much of the merchants that fashioned themselves as nobility, held an amazing amount of power over the dispossessed. At his parties, you were likely to see ten different people, all of them coming from vastly different backgrounds and social strata. The fact that the man, though seemingly unaware of his social brilliance, was capable of pulling together people with wildly different sensibilities and make them work together to create a totally unique atmosphere—though laden with sex and drugs as it was.

Valeri Ephars holds power in the real courts, amongst those who are the sons and daughters of the rich and powerful. For now, most of them are not too dissimilar to Lucae, though he certainly would dislike the comparison. The children have mostly been brow beaten into keeping their nose out of adult business, halting any true understanding that they might have over their family's riches that miraculously appeared in a generation's time.

Tek and Lauka were similar in their usefulness, all things considered. Tek held contacts with those of the lower and working classes that wanted to see the status quo shift, and Lauka orbited Shed's gang, possibly the most volatile element within Crossroads.

Illias and Garrian were more complicated than that, more of a subtle political move than any grand statement. While the insurrection turns the people on the massive mercantile families that control the flow of money through Crossroads, Illias and Garrian will subtly remove themselves from the situation altogether. They'll be doing the effective equivalent of insider trading, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the insurrection I'll be launching will, at the very least, damage the Bel-Far Conglomerate's operations in Crossroads.

Yet, even with all the connections I'd forged, I was still lacking critical contacts in many areas, ones that would make sure that I can coordinate things to cause the least amount of actual damage. I don't want there to be what amounts to a civil war within Crossroads, something that only the mercantile conglomerates would benefit from.

The Brauhm Empire, thankfully, hasn't revealed itself to be a big player in Crossroads just yet, at least not in government action. The merchants in Crossroads still likely hung at the coattails of those in Brauhm, if they weren't already what amounted to a shell company.

I turned down the maintained main streets towards the western path, making my way towards the Skinned Lizard with some haste. I'd spent the day outside just walking aimlessly and I thought that Rethi might have some interesting tales to tell from his days training Valeri into something half competent.

Oh boy, was that an understatement. Tales weren't all that Rethi had for me that day.

The first sign of there being something up was the mood that I picked up within the cloud of empathic sense that always hung around me. The closer I got to the Skinned Lizard, the more hostility and tenseness I felt in the surroundings, growing into something stiflingly powerful by the time I was at the door of the inn.

'Closed.' A little sign read on the front door, a little sign that I'd never seen even once. The Skinned Lizard, as far as I'm aware, has always been open, even in the dead of night you can sometimes hear the sound of a new patron's boots walking wearily to their newly acquired bed.

I ignored the sign and walked into the inn, finding it empty despite it being time for the dinner rush. I followed the feeling of tense hostility easily, quickly entering into the very same room that I had the meeting with the Skinned Lizard's staff oh so long ago.

The room was packed with people, even more than there had been last time. The whole Skinned Lizard crew was there, even including Venn, the Gek information broker. Rethi and Alena were both present, Rethi sitting stoically in his chair and Alena sitting just to his left, obscured from the man that Rethi was sending his fiery gaze towards.

On the other side of the table sat a middle-aged man wearing a hostile mask and a dark-skinned woman just beside him who I instantly recognised as Valeri.

I stopped still as I entered the room, the door thumping closed behind me as I glanced across the room's inhabitants.

Tek looked extremely uncomfortable, though remaining a powerful presence in the room despite the clash of the two other egos. Gehne, the Gek woman that I'd seen very little of in recent weeks, looked about ready to disappear from the room the second a fight broke out, and Tenra just looked confused.

On the other hand, Venn totally dismissed any worry about the situation he might have as soon as he saw me standing just in front of the door.

"Master Maximilian!" He called smarmily, breaking the room's tension ever so slightly, "Wonderful to meet you again, you've been making all sorts of news as of late!" He smiled as best as he could with his mundane brown reptilian features. I rose my eyebrow questioningly, but I just waved off the pseudo-compliments easily.

"Thank you, Venn. Though I think we have more pressing matters to attend to?" I asked with a gentle smile as I sat in a chair separate from the three parties already stationed around the table. Rethi and Alena sat to my left, Valeri and the new face sat to my right, with the Skinned Lizard staff sitting directly ahead of me.

"Maximilian!" Valeri almost gasped, apparently not realising that I'd come through the door until the Gek man had called out to me, "Yeram and Rethi are–" She began, rising from her chair, but was stopped when a cold tone sliced through her sentence with a deadly precision.

"Sit, Lady Ephars." The man who could only be Yeram hissed. Valeri thumped back into her chair with a scolded look on her face. I spared a glance in this Yeram person's direction, taking in his form and posture.

He was a warrior, that was for sure. I could say so without a doubt by just the way he sat. If it was that obvious, then he was probably pretty powerful. Tek was similar, though whether they sat on the same level of power was something entirely different.

"Master Max." Rethi said stoically as he glared at the other man. "Yeram is a Shadow Walker."

The room froze, everyone's emotional states peaking to whole new heights. Instead of Gehne just considering running from the room, she was subtly shifting the weight onto her legs from her chair, ready to leap up the wall and climb out the room through a small window.

I could feel as emotional states began to tend towards their weapons, Yeram, Rethi, Tek, and even Tenra all tried to subtly grasp at a weapon they either had hidden on their person or was already sitting at their side.

I searched the room's inhabitants one last time before feeling a flicker of anger flare to life within me as I stared. The growl left my lips as my domain billowed out from my body, dampening everything with Safety and feelings of the Hearth.

"That's enough."

The power in my voice was unmistakably divine, just as all divine power was unmistakable. It stunned the room into even more silence, just now with every eye trained on me instead of at each other. I made eye contact with each person quickly before speaking again.

"There will be no fighting." I decreed with absolute surety, and I knew that each one of them felt the impact of the words in their heart. I was the arbiter of the conversation now, and there was no-one here that could challenge my rule.

After a moment, there were murmurs from each of the people around the table, all of them giving some sign of agreement.

"Good." I stated definitively, "What is the problem we are having?" Looking between Rethi and the supposed Shadow Walker, Yeram, I subtly prompted them to speak.

"Yeram believed that I was going to kill Valeri and attacked me." Rethi added his statement and I nodded before turning to Yeram and letting my eyes bore into his own.

"I attacked to protect Valeri from the Divine Sword that he holds." I nodded again, but I didn't just take their simplistic statements as truth. I delved deeply into their emotional state, allowing me to determine truth from fiction, what parts of the story have been hidden and are being obfuscated from my view.

"Yeram." I began in an almost judge-like manner, "You knew that Rethi was not going to harm Valeri. Instead, you had come to the conclusion that Rethi was a threat, connected to me, and decided that he must be removed to mitigate the effects on the Ephars household."

The man's eyes went wide, the first true display of significant emotion that I'd seen on him as of yet, and not something that was likely to come around all too often. I could tell that I'd hit the nail on the head, for lack of a better phrase, and the fact that I could pull so much from just the way that the man felt from his own statement and Rethi's statement made me understand why priests of the Hearth might be called Peace Bringers.

I turned then to Rethi, whose face was full of smug, and began to speak again. "Rethi. You knew that Yeram was there and intentionally baited him out of hiding. You didn't consider that he'd legitimately try to kill you and didn't heed the warnings."

I stared at the severely chastised boy, feeling a degree of unsettledness from Valeri, the idea of Rethi being the trainer that he'd fashioned himself as, was slowly crumbling. I crossed my arms and turned away from both of them.

"In short, you're both being idiots." Though I turned to Yeram with a dark intensity, "But one of you is being a murderous idiot." I could almost feel the shiver go down the Shadow Walker's spine as I enunciated the grave words.

"Now," I continued neutrally, heedless of the tonal whiplash, "it's seems that today is just one of those days that fate has to intervene to bring a group together. Each of us is going to have some part to play very soon, and you will have to decide what you'll be involving yourself in." I looked over the Skinned Lizard's staff, all of which felt suddenly very out of their depth as they realised they were surrounded by people far more powerful than they had expected.

"Yeram, Valeri," I addressed the two strangers within the room, drawing their uncertain gazes, "we will talk about your allegiances and where and who they lay with very soon." Valeri swallowed deeply, nodding quickly for both her and the man beside her. I nodded out of polite affirmation.

"Good." I connected with Tek's eyes, letting a warm smile crack the stony mask I'd been wearing, "Well, that was tiring. How about we have dinner while we talk?" I asked rhetorically, though the powerful Tiliquan man nodded and motioned for the other staff to follow him, partly to help prep for a big meal, and also to get them out of the still somewhat tense room.

"Oh!" I called out before Gehne managed to get out of the room, making her turn back to me with a little dread in her heart, "Do you mind if I specifically order the stew I had a few nights ago?" She nodded, almost so deep that it was a bow, and left the room hastily, leaving me alone with the four others in the room. Venn having left along with the staff.

"Big day, hey?" I said to Alena, a cheeky smile brightening my face. Alena rolled her eyes so severely that I thought she might actually hurt something, but the frayed nerves I could sense in her emotions healed ever so slightly.

I sighed; this was going to be all kinds of interesting.


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, Kreiverin, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron; Andrew P.!

If you want to support me, and receive up to 90 total chapters in advance, check out my Patreon!

 

[Sarius]

Chapter 82: Follow Me

Yeram's eyes filtered across the occupants of the table he'd been sat at.

The day had taken as many twists and turns as it possibly could at this point, each new interaction seemed to change the course of the day in a not insignificant amount and, worst of all, Yeram seemingly had no control over it at all.

The man that currently held all of the power was the suited one at the end of the table closest to the door, to Yeram's left. Maximilian Avenforth, the enigma of Crossroads' high society of late. The way people talked about him made him seem like some magician, capable of turning any social situation into solid gold.

Yeram had hardly believed it, having stayed clear from the man for good reason, but now that he was in his presence it was starting to become abundantly clear that they might even be understating the truth.

The man happily ate his stew as he conversed with the others at the table casually, Rethi and the… girl sitting beside him being the first to let themselves fall into his orchestrations. Then it was the staff of the establishment, the owner, Tek, talking boisterously with Rethi about combat, the younger Tiliquan to his left listening in intently, though the Gek woman stayed quiet and demure.

Even Valeri was getting in on the conversation, taking any chance she could at talking to the man that she'd been pining over for weeks, even if it wasn't necessarily a romantic longing.

Yeram could understand why, now that he could look the man in the eye and watch him work whatever power he had into every expressed word. It was like watching a skilled warrior in battle, but one of words and subtleties. There were so many inherent promises and discussions that each word brought, an intoxicating feeling of being understood and respected, to be talked to on a level that none could truly connect with you on.

It almost made Yeram forget about the events of earlier, and not just the attack he'd suffered at the hands of a Divine Warrior of the Sun, a being that stood to far outclass himself. As the clamour of dinner slowly began to die, Yeram found his eyes focus on the person he'd first seen when he'd opened his eyes after the unconsciousness he'd been forced into.

Alena. That was the thing's name. When Yeram had awoken, he'd expected pain and suffering from the terrible wound that would have made its way down across his torso, searing the flesh only as a by-product of the brilliance of the Sun's light.

But there was none. No wound, no pain, no tortuous recovery over the course of weeks and months.

He was healed.

The feat was miraculous, to put it lightly. Any true healing came at a massive cost, and only the exorbitantly rich could commission the services of someone capable of healing something as extreme as the wound that Yeram had been dealt so completely. The only other alternatives were tinctures created by those that fashioned themselves as alchemists or, more reliably, a doctor.

For him to find himself with no wound after waking from what could only be a few hour's unconsciousness was simply unheard of.

And yet, the answer stood right in his vision, even now. The girl, the thing.

The Abomination Maker.

Yeram was subject, at that moment, to the greatest internal turmoil he'd experienced in his entire life. His life had hardly been a clean one at that, filled with dark depravities and actions that would only be called crimes if he weren't working for the Empire and its interests.

But now, he saw a being that he knew he could kill in a moment, and it would be heralded as a service to all the worlds. If people were to know, they would praise him to the high heavens, they would say that he stopped the inevitable plague that the Abomination Maker would one day create.

"But that would be a very foolish idea, wouldn't it?" A powerful voice finished Yeram's own thoughts. The Shadow Walker would have jumped if he didn't already expect that Maximilian was entirely aware of what was going on inside his head, a concession that he'd hesitantly made to be in the man's presence, to be close to the source of what would no doubt be the Empire's greatest enemy in the near future.

"I thought you were a smart man, Maximilian Avenforth." Yeram intoned darkly, not allowing his gaze to turn away from the Abomination Maker's form, regardless of the hostile look he was getting from the Divine Warrior at their side. The person themselves, Alena, was suitably disturbed by his intent and borderline murderous stare, her blue eyes sharpening as they focused ever so intently on him. As if she'd ever see his blade coming.

"I'm not sure I ever professed to be smart, Yeram." The man said somewhat casually, gently spooning another mouthful of the admittedly delightful stew into his mouth, before gazing at Yeram unconcernedly.

"Yet you carry a being of mass destruction with you where you walk. Do you wish to create an army of those damned to a life of suffering?" Yeram felt the air inside of the room drop back to where it had been before the meal. The staff of the Skinned Lizard were suitably left behind in the conversation, unaware of yet another being of extreme power within the room, wearing the skin of a young girl.

"Maximilian," Tek rumbled after a moment of silence hanging over the table, "what is he talking about?" Maximilian looked up from his stew, throwing a glance towards Alena as well.

Yeram saw the Abomination Maker's guise slip. It went from perturbed to terrified as its identity was truly coming to light. The pale faced girl somehow went an even paler colour, looking more like a grey, something that Yeram had only seen so many times in the living, and thousands of times in the dead.

"The stage is yours, Alena." Maximilian said while quickly finishing the last of his stew and then relaxing back in his chair as if the truth were nothing more important than having stolen a piece of bread. The girl herself stumbled as she glanced around the room, like a terrified deer trapped in the eyes of an overwhelming predator.

Her hands shook as she finally opened her mouth, clearly never having expected to reveal this to a group of people so openly.

"I–" She stopped, gulping against something that impeded her speech, "I'm a life shifter."

Yeram could feel the sudden wave of hostility come from the members of the table, an instinctive and visceral hate, wormed into almost each and every culture that exists in the two worlds. Life shifters are anything but, they are the killers of thousands, and there is nowhere they will let to be safe—aside from their own secluded tribes, surrounded by countries prepared to send armies at a moment's notice.

"What?" Tek's voice intoned darkly, a fire burning in his voice of betrayal and anger. Yet, Maximilian was not one for a regular reaction. Without qualms, the man smiled at those around the table, confusing them with the strange dichotomy in his expression and the atmosphere.

"It's terrifying, is it not?" He asked quietly, his eyes gliding to meet Tek's and then Yeram's. "You've known for probably your whole life that life shifters are dangerous, that they are the Abomination Makers who've committed unspeakable horrors."

The man laughed jovially, breaking entirely from the atmosphere, and sending it all into an unstable mess of unsure footing.

"But you all sit in a room of people who hold great power and choose to do differently with it." Maximilian tapped the table twice, calling attention to him as if it weren't already on him, standing from his seat he began to walk around the table clockwise. "Shall we test the theory?" He said, his face splitting in a grin, holding complete command of every person's attention.

"Rethi Orsen, born in a small road town towards the south and lived there long enough for his mother to get sick and almost die, becoming a beggar to survive." Maximilian paused to sweep his gaze across the people present, placing a hand on the younger boy's shoulder, "With a little bit of help, he became someone I could easily consider my righthand man, capable of remarkable things if given the chance. He also so happens to be the sole successor of Mayer Renue's, having had the Divine Blade of the Sun, Hindle, passed down to him in confidence that he'd use it to aid me in my quest."

Yeram's understanding of the boy affirmed itself against the description that Maximilian gave, though his being a beggar wasn't something that he'd expected. Though those with the sort of power that Rethi held were rarely from a normal background. Maximilian took a few steps to the side, placing a hand on the shoulder of the mortified Abomination Maker.

"Alena Gram, daughter of a doctor insane enough to go to the life shifter tribes on Orisis and try to learn from them. Eventually he eloped with the daughter of their priestess, later bringing Alena into the world." He smiled at the weak scowl the young girl gave to the almost sappy recounting of her beginnings, "They moved from town to town trying to hide their daughter's newfound powers, and then her mother died, leaving her without guidance. With encouragement, and a fair deal of conflict, I helped her learn to understand her power on the basest level, so that she will one day make the fantasies of the sick come true."

He smiled gently across the table, an air of sweet sadness overcoming the room. Yeram couldn't push down the spark of empathy the man's words had born for the young girl, somehow stubbornly staying regardless of his logical understanding of the situation. He hated that his defences could be so severely violated by Maximilian, his hardened heart birthed of the countless men and women he'd killed, injected with just enough life to feel for a girl laden with a power that hurts her to hold.

Yet, even as he came to the end of his own companions, he continued to make his way around the table. He stood behind Tenra, the Tiliquan kitchen hand and waiter looked at Maximilian dumbly, unsure what he could possibly know about his life. The man closed his eyes and smiled warmly, as if dipping into a pool of hot water, heated by the earth's fire.

"Tenra, a man caught in a tribe that determined his worth by his usefulness." The young Tiliquan's reptilian eyes widened severely in a panicked wonder. "He found himself forced into a situation that only spelled his death, so he instead ran from it, wisely pushing against the pressure he'd had on his shoulders underneath his tribe's callous eye. He grows stronger under the tutelage of a man that shares his ideals, accepting that he's worth more than mere fodder and protection." Maximilian moved again; eyes closed as he swam in the depths of something greater. Yeram could feel the sensation of a warmly lit fire against his skin now, radiating out from the man as he slowly drifted closer and closer to him and his mind.

"Tek, much the same as Tenra, was born to be something. Instead of accepting his fate, he railed against it, and was punished and cast out. He was the first of his kind to leave, a progenitor for those that would soon come to Crossroads in refuge. Now he seeks to correct Crossroads the way that he couldn't in his own tribe." Tek nodded gently, brow furrowed ever so slightly in a calm serenity.

However, Yeram watched as Maximilian's next victim wasn't so willing. Gehne, the blue-skinned Gek woman, shrunk back from Maximilian as he shifted to stand behind her, her grip tight against the sides of her simple dress. The man didn't force himself forwards, just simply standing there with his eyes closed and waiting patiently.

Yeram saw the blue-skinned woman jolt slightly, but slowly eased her posture back into her seat comfortably, underneath Maximilian's tall form. The man smiled gladly, even as his eyes were closed to her movements.

"Gehne, a woman always dispossessed and lost." The woman's face shuddered slightly, but stayed quiet, "She found a people for a time, but as one after another went missing, taken by an unknowable hand, she was forced to leave behind a life that she regretted and hated." Maximilian paused heavily, as if he were hearing a response, and deciding that he was going to omit the words, "She left with one that she considered family, a brother, but was betrayed when they finally reached the ideal they had dreamt of together for so long." He smiled sadly, nodding deeply.

Yeram watched the woman's stoic guise slip, as if crumpling under an invisible weight. No more words were said as he continued to the next Gek man sitting beside her.

"Venn," Maximilian intoned with an almost humorous voice, "believes in money, and only money." The brown skinned Gek below him nodded happily, "However, he's slowly coming around to the idea that there are good and bad ways to spend that money, and what information should simply be kept in the darkest recesses of his mind, no matter its monetary worth." The Gek man screwed his nose up at the idea, but didn't deny it, eliciting a chuckle out of Tek and Tenra, all too familiar with the annoying man's money-grubbing tendencies.

"Valeri Ephars." Maximilian called out, pulling the attention of the table again with a name some of the man have only heard in passing, but influential nonetheless, "A woman born into power and guided by the nose through her life, acquiring skills required for a life that never quite fulfilled her, her interests lying just on the other side of a seemingly insurmountable mountain. Yet," He paused warmly, "she found a path forward, using a new understanding of the world from an entirely new perspective, and a blessing that has long laid dormant within her." Valeri's chin almost quaked with an invisible wave of emotion, and then Maximilian took the final steps towards Yeram.

Yeram hadn't understood why those around the table were so content to give access to their minds, handing it over with barely a token resistance, yet as Maximilian Avenforth stood behind Yeram, he remembered.

He saw the memories of long ago, ones that he'd stamped down either because of the horror they had inflicted upon him, or because of the pain that they caused him now, too happy and idyllic for him to bear. The emotions of long ago surfaced as if they were all happening to him in the span of the few seconds that Maximilian stood behind him.

The pain of his parents selling him, the righteousness he'd once had as he entered the church's ranks, the pain of the first living being he'd killed. The 'invitation' of the Shadow Walkers.

Then the carnage that had followed.

"Yeram." Maximilian said sadly, "A life of pain and suffering, birthing a man who hated himself." Yeram wanted so badly to pull away, but there was a primal need for him to stay, to let the man understand him at his deepest and darkest.

"But, he broke free of the chains." The man intoned, flashes of emotions, anger and rage at the man who'd brought that carnage and death, then eventually the moment that Yeram had decided that he would disappear, to become a nothing somewhere else and hide in plain sight. "And now, he realises that there may yet be a solution to his past."

Rethi, the 'solution' to the man who had plagued his past, and the future of the Brauhm Empire. The fear that those in the Light hold for the Darkness that now reigns dominant over the Empire and its people. Maximilian nodded slowly, returning to his seat, an expression of slight weariness on his face.

"And then me." He said sadly, "A man from elsewhere, laden with the power and responsibility to save the worlds from the threat of my own people, the greatest of my people who live, no less." He sighed as he looked around the room of mollified people, their minds and emotions dulled by the visceral experience they'd been put through.

"We all hide things in our pasts, our heritage included," he sent an eye towards Alena, Tek, and Gehne, "But, we must work together if we want all of the things our souls scream out for. All you have to do is follow me."


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, Kreiverin, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patron; Andrew P.!

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[Sarius]

Chapter 83: Warm Moments

Alena sat in her bed, moping. Though she wouldn't admit to it, she was emotionally drained and a little depressed.

The room she was in was of some comfort, at least, with its warmness and a sense of comfortable cosiness that had grown on her over the past weeks she'd practically lived out of the room. It wasn't an ideal living situation, but it was… nice.

Something that had begun to irk her, though, was that she felt left behind. No matter the perfectly reasonable rationalisations for why Maximilian, and more importantly Rethi, were out working towards a grander goal, she still felt useless. She felt almost like baggage.

Sure, every now and then Maximilian would have a scant moment to spare, to talk to her in the gentle tones that he almost always spoke in. Those moments relieved some of those swirling emotions, but never long enough to matter. She had begun to feel disconnected from what Maximilian and Rethi were actually doing.

Sleeping with Rethi at night, regardless of the fact that Rethi didn't actually need to sleep much, if at all, anymore. Whether he was even sleeping as Alena slowly drifted away into sleep on his arm was something that had also begun to eat away at her.

She was being coddled, or at least it felt that way. Maybe Maximilian just hadn't come to the point where she was useful yet, like Rethi had been for at least the first few days of coming to Crossroads. It was possibly the most infuriating part of the man she knew as her boyfriend's master, leader, and aspiration.

Maximilian's goals were clear, now that she knew them. To save the worlds from the Champions of his own. A noble goal, but one with an uncountable number of paths to reach it. Maximilian's methods were alien in some ways, partly due to his own ideas and morals that he impressed upon his actions, but also because it almost felt like his mind was a maze.

To get the information you wanted out of him, you had to turn down all the correct corridors to reach it. Not to say that Maximilian was intentionally hiding things, in fact he was exactly the opposite, but to get the right information, you needed the path to get to it.

So when she had one day asked what she was meant to be doing, he had answered with, 'What do you think you should be doing?'

An entirely unhelpful answer to her plight. He'd had no time after that, having to go to some party or another for whatever his goals required. But she can't help but feel as if she'd just asked the wrong question but got the honest answer for it.

And here she was, lying in bed for hours after the fiasco of a day she'd had.

It'd started normal, pleasant even with the weather, but things had changed rapidly when Rethi had dragged the other man and the tall dark-skinned woman into the Skinned Lizard. They'd done as well as they could have for the man without use of her life shifting, but he was going to have a horrific recovery that could easily end in a life-threatening infection. She'd pushed Valeri out of the room and healed the man with relative ease, though he'd find himself needing to eat and sleep desperately.

She had hoped to explain away the healing, to keep her origins and power a secret, but the man was sharp beyond belief. She had almost seen the connections being made as soon as he'd awoken, his eyes glancing from where his wound used to be and to her. He'd figured it out in a mere moment, and from there it just snowballed into the reveal over that tense dinner.

They didn't look at her the same anymore, even after Maximilian had assuaged their fears for the time being. The one who was most receptive, interestingly, was the greedy Gek she'd come to know as Venn. She'd seen him around, with her being at the inn that she called home all day.

Mostly, the man seemed skeezy, but since the Skinned Lizard staff worked with him on occasion, usually signified by him being dragged into the back room by Tek or Tenra, Alena thought that he probably had some good in him.

Though, when he'd actually approached her after being revealed as the monster they all feared, he'd been… polite. Or overly so, smarmy like he had been with Maximilian and then Rethi right after he'd spoken a few words to her. Clearly it was because he was being opportunistic, trying to curry some good favour with their group of, frankly, legendary existences.

But regardless, it was more than she'd been expecting after that, the fears of being exposed muting themselves with a wary suspicion. She wasn't so disillusioned that she'd ever think that she could gallivant through the streets, proclaiming herself a life shifter to all who would listen. She'd just end up stabbed.

But wariness and the lack of greetings and goodbyes were an easy price to pay for them holding her identity to themselves.

Alena stretched out on her bed, filling the centre of the wide bed with her form. Though, her reverie was interrupted when she heard the simple metal key in the lock of her door, Rethi wearily stumbling into the room moments later.

She watched idly as her boyfriend stripped himself of the majority of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and the simple socks beneath before flopping onto the bed in the space that Alena couldn't quite fill by herself.

"Big day?" She asked, Rethi's long groan came shortly after, muffled by the pillow that he'd stuffed his face in to hide from her, and she supposed the world itself. Alena couldn't help but giggle at the boy, the same one who'd been ready to fight an entire room of potentially extraordinarily strong opponents for her safety only hours before. Now, though, she was just her boyfriend. More normal than you'd ever expect someone with the title 'Divine Warrior', moping about his day just as she was.

Rethi turned his head to its side, looking right at her as his slightly chubby cheek pushed up against the pillow, retaining just a bit of the boyish look instead of completely succumbing to the trend of his powerful, muscled form.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, something he asked more often than she'd like to admit. If he was asking at all, it probably meant that she wasn't feeling 'okay' at all. A weird sixth sense that Rethi had developed, either by being around the freakishly good mind reader that was Maximilian, or just having figured her out.

"Not really." She said, propping herself up on an elbow, facing her boyfriend face to face almost. Rethi chewed on his lip for a moment, though he came back with another question in his due time.

"Because of Master Max revealing you or because of the other thing?" She rose an eyebrow at that.

"The 'other thing'? What other thing?" She asked dubiously, wondering if she'd somehow missed something in the day's craziness. Rethi rose from his laying position, mimicking her own propped up positioning.

"The 'you not knowing what to do' thing." Alena smiled bitterly; her boyfriend having hit yet another nail on the head.

"Bit of both, really." She said quietly, sighing deeply as she looked away from the concerned boy at her side. "I don't know, especially with the whole thing Maximilian did today with trying to unite everyone under his umbrella, I feel like I'm useless in the machine he's building."

"How?" Rethi asked gently, though he continued before she could answer, "Sure, you haven't done much yet, but the others in the Skinned Lizard haven't either. They're still waiting by the sidelines until Maximilian gives them something to do." Alena scowled softly, knowing that he was right, at least to a certain extent.

"But when do I even get used? What's my purpose here? The others in the Skinned Lizard are parts of a larger community that they can rally, I'm just here for not much other than to heal someone if they really need it, which both of you almost never will." Alena felt the frustration coming from deep within her much like how it had in the near past, but Rethi raised a hand easily, stopping her from snowballing into that nigh incoherent rage.

"Look Alena, I understand." He said, words firm against her own self-defeating ones, "It wasn't so long ago that I thought the same way as you. Like, how was I going to help Maximilian between him being an actual damn Demigod, and you being capable of healing almost anything with time and practice. I was just a kid with a sword, no matter how good I might've been at learning it." Rethi shrugged lightly as Alena felt her mind recontextualise hundreds of little interactions where his expression had just been a little off, or his tone just a little too sharp. She realised now that it was the same frustration as her own.

"But," he said as he flopped back over onto his back, "I just kept moving forwards anyway. I thought that maybe I'd get lucky somewhere and find a good sword, or maybe find a special technique. Like great warriors do in the stories, you know?"

"And then you got given a Divine Sword. And your master turned out to be a Champion and a Demigod." Alena jibed, a common friendly insult that Maximilian and Rethi would throw between each other, both mockingly downplaying their own luck. Rethi laughed dryly, but then gave her a solid look.

"And you were born to one of the most competent life shifters on Orisis, and one of the men with access to the most legitimate medical knowledge between both worlds. And your boyfriend is a Divine warrior, and his master is a Champion-Demigod hybrid." He rose an eyebrow archly.

"Who's the lucky one?"





Alena awoke in the late morning, finding her boyfriend still laying at her side, sleeping with his hands clasped behind his head and elbows out to the side, almost like a set of wings. The comparison made her giggle lightly on the inside, with Rethi being all too close to an actual servant of a God, though Angels are just a thing of legend. Not that it would stop them being any less real than a Demigod.

She couldn't resist reaching out with her hand and feeling against his chest. Running her fingers across the ridged muscles that seemingly covered every part of his torso, despite the stubborn layer of baby fat that smoothed those ridges considerably. Thankfully, even though the muscles were hard, they still remained soft enough to be comfortable as she laid her head gently against his chest.

She felt her head move up and down as he breathed, completely unimpeded by the weight of her head over his lungs.

Her fingers felt against his skin, and like she had done at least hundreds of times now, she let her power seep into his system as she monitored his body idly. She knew that this could be considered creepy, breaking all sorts of boundaries that she wouldn't ever break with anyone else, but Rethi hadn't only agreed to letting her check his body whenever she felt like it, he'd found it to be decidedly non-creepy.

'I dunno, you look at my wounds all the time, what's the difference between that and looking at the rest of my body too?' Something that had no good answer. She would've explained that it was invasive, if it were anything more than sending a little bit of ether through his body, something he could easily reject with the amount of Divine energy that flowed through him.

She felt a certain sense of calm as she looked over him, the world around her dimming so that she could better understand his internal workings. His body was a symphony to her delicately tuned ears, almost completely in synch with itself, each component, each organ, each muscle, membrane, cell, all working together to optimise itself for the best possible function.

She'd like to say that his body was the best that she'd ever viewed, at least with the girlfriend-ly pride for her boyfriend, but Maximilian's own was something entirely different. The difference between Rethi and Maximilian is that Rethi's body is as if a human were taken to it's peak, with Divine power playing a significant role in optimising it past how it should theoretically be able to perform in nature, but Max's body surpassed all that was human.

In fact, much of his biology was completely redundant, where most of his organs could easily be taken from his body with literally no demerits. He stood as an example of what immense power could do to a body, and she knew that there were those even stronger above him, namely the Keeper that they talked about on occasion.

Whether their bodies would exist on the same Godly symphony as Maximilian's did wasn't the point. It was just one way that you could reach that power, and Alena found herself almost tempted to seek them out, to find what made them so powerful aside from their own ether and Divine energies.

"Having a good peak?" Rethi said in amusement, though it hardly shocked Alena as she'd watched his body wake from its sleep state, the brain activating all sorts of chemicals as the body awoke as well.

"The best peak." She said contentedly, feeling the thrum of a chuckle in Rethi's chest, letting her energy and instinct leave Rethi's body shortly afterwards. They laid in silence for a while, just allowing the comfort of their embrace to subsume them while they were conscious. Though the day was hardly one to be disallowed its reign.

A gentle rap against the door was enough to wake the two from their sweet reverie, the voice on the other side pushing through the door with the ease that it always did.

"Rethi, Alena," Maximilian called, a smile audible in his voice, "I'd like to speak with you both in the storage room for a moment, please." They didn't need to respond, hearing the man walking away from the door only moments later.

Alena looked up at her boyfriend's face from her place on his chest, finding him smiling down at her warmly.

"Looks like we're in for another interesting day."


A/N: Thank you to my 5-dollar Patron; Thaldor! A massive thanks to my 10-dollar Patrons; TheBreaker, Puppet424, and Dyson C.! An enormous thanks to my 15-dollar Patron; Jokarun! A gargantuan thanks to my 20-dollar Patrons; Andrew P., someguy, Ryan U.!

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