by Shad N Freud
Carl grinned in a rather horrifying way as he clapped his hand on Cenere’s shoulder. “Training room: Deactivate Pain Suppression field. Have a good afternoon, lad. Supper will be served in the dining room in a couple hours.”
Every nerve ending in Cenere’s body lit up like the Avarice Day display outside the Citadel in New York as his brain noticed every single milligram of damaged tissue that had been healed previously. The pain that Cenere knew he should have been feeling during his hours long beatdown had come to collect it’s just due. Every single nerve cell in Cenere’s unblemished body blossomed into the most exquisitely excruciating agony he’d ever suffered in his short life, and during his tenure as a puddle of thrashing, gurgling pain he vacated his entire digestive tract from both ends.
Finally, after a seventeen-minute eternity, he stood on wobbling knees and made his way to the door, his shame and filth slowly sinking into the floor as the room righted itself. The doors closed before he could exit, however, as several randy marble golems rose from the floor and led him to a bath that had likewise risen out of the floor. Upon noticing how soft they felt to the touch, as well as how…comforting they went out of their way to be, Cenere smirked as he allowed four of them to bathe him and was rather liberal with where he put his hands during the process, as well as where he let them put theirs, escalating the perverse bath that followed.
Properly attired, Cenere walked into dinner with a rather self-satisfied smirk as he sat down to dinner half an hour late, with hair that was still rather damp. Carl looked up from his paperwork and gestured to a seat across from him as Jeeves placed his hand on the table and a five-course meal for one appeared, complete with a glass of merlot to pair with the medium rare filet on his plate.
“Sorry. I would have been here sooner, but a few marble golems decided to bathe me, in more ways than one, and were rather insistent on helping me get dressed. Just out of curiosity, who would I have to talk to about getting a place like this? I mean, the help notwithstanding, this mansion is a masterpiece! I’d slap the Pope for a place like this.”
“Sorry mate, but the gent who made this place and the six others like it died about fifty years ago. The ladies were a nice touch, but…well, it’s a bit annoying trying to take a bath and having a gorgeous woman decide to share the bath with you when you’re a faithfully married man. I’ve gotta tell them every bloody time that I’m a married man and to leave off. If I could, I’d shut that part of ‘em off.”
“NO! I mean…please don’t. I rather enjoy that behavior.” Cenere grinned lecherously as he remembered just how soft those marble girls felt, as well as how…articulated…they felt on the inside. His brow furrowed for a moment as he thought about what Carl said. “But…wait a second…they came with the place, right? And this place is probably the most advanced bit of architecture I’ve ever seen, from a magical standpoint. Wait, this isn’t a Jameson original, is it?”
“On the nose. At least you can find work as an art historian if the whole, you know, Inquisitor thing doesn’t work out for you.” Carl looked up at Jeeves, then nodded his head at the wall, whereupon Jeeves pulled out the dossiers and handed them to Carl. “Hmm. Looks like the next stop is going to be Japan to pick up the next member in our merry little band of misfits.”
Cenere scrunched his face up as he looked over at the head of the table. “Japan? We’re not picking up one of those Witnesses, are we? I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with them, it’s just…they’re just so…weird.”
“Yes, we are picking one up. And, he’s apparently an oddball even for their bunch. A twin-soul like yourself, he’s a gnome with a rather…interesting world view. And, to top it all off, he’s apparently an Oracle.”
“Joy. We’re going to have a space-case on our hands. This should be sooo much fun.” Cenere rolled his eyes as he tucked in to his sumptuous dinner. “By the way, just what is our mission, anyways?”
Carl smiled darkly as he nodded at Jeeves. “I’d tell you, but I’d rather not ruin the surprise. Besides, I’d hate to have to tell the story more than once. Suffice to say, we’re going on a very important mission to save the world. Besides, do you really want to be around when Cardinal di Montagne gets here? Last time I checked, he’s not the most forgiving bloke around.”
Cenere’s face paled a bit, and he smiled nervously. “So, Japan you said? When do we leave?”
Chapter Three
“So…quick question.”
“What?”
“We came to Japan to pick up the Witness, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So…” Cenere smiled lecherously as he ogled the various tight-bodied young women sweating with exertion as they punched, kicked, and threw each other around the training room he and Carl were being led through. “Are we here strictly on business, or can I go ahead and, heh, extend an arm of friendship to some of the locals? In a, ah, less than official capacity?”
“Uh huh. I can guess which ‘arm’ you’d use, too.” Carl chuckled as he grabbed the young man by the collar and dragged him along. He also took notice of the young women sweating, breathing heavy, and dodging blows while looking for openings but he just shook his head as the young man behind him struggled to free himself, a thin line of drool sliding down his chin.
Carl noticed the young ladies from a different perspective; where the Inquisitor-in-training was ogling for the sake of lust and testing the strength of the floor joists, Carl simply observed their skills as martial artists. While being trained extensively in the harder styles of Wushu and several forms of Kung-Fu by a pedantic old bug, Carl could certainly appreciate the softer nuances of Kempo, the artistically brutal sword play of Kendo, and the intimate dance of Wing Chun practitioners. The fact that the young women practicing those deadly arts were drop dead gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt, either.
“Sorry lad, but we’re on a time table here. No lechery this trip; we’re here on official business.”
“But…but…so many hot girls…” Cenere whined as he literally dragged his hooves, leaving thin scratches on the floor as he futilely struggled against his mentor’s grip. “Look, just because you’re a married old prude doesn’t mean I can’t mix business with pleasure, damn it!”
“How very charming. And I just gave training to the nuns here as to the whys and wherefores behind keeping all this nubile young flesh in seclusion until their training is complete. I sure hope they can control themselves,” a rather severe woman snarked as she stepped out from behind a pillar. “Carl, pleasure to see you again. And somewhat unexpected. How is that dear wife of yours?” Reptilian eyes met orcish ones as the woman tried to stare into Carl’s soul.
Carl kept eye contact brief before he smirked and pulled a pack of Black Jacks out of his coat, taking one out with his teeth.
“Tryst’s doing well, last I read. Sophie got top marks, no surprise. American schools are a bloody joke.” Carl lit his smoke with his thumb, taking a long drag as the headmistress’ eye twitched, her eyes glancing back to the no smoking sign on the pillar in front of Carl. “This sprog here is my protégé, Cenere di Cornua Ferrea. We’re here to pick up your Oracle.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup. Official business.”
“And I should care why?”
“Cut the shit, Amayako. We both know he’ll be leaving with me. So, why the third degree?”
“Well, it might have something to do with the fact that I had to hear you were visiting from my boss. A phone call too much for an old friend? Or have you not figured out email? Perhaps you mailed me a letter, but international post being what it is-,”
“Amy, sweetie, not the time. Seriously. Been seven kinds of busy and only just dug my way out of a mountain of paperwork just to get handed this shite duty.” Carl rolled his eyes as he handed over the transfer paperwork to take “custody” of a cloistered oracle. “I’ve been too bloody busy to see my own wife and daughter, so I apologize if I haven’t exactly had time to get in touch with o
ne of my oldest frenemies.”
Amayako’s eyes narrowed to razor thin slits as she raised a hand to smack the orc in front of her, catching the glint in his eye. Her hand flashed out like a cobra and snatched the smoke out of his mouth. “You’re getting slow, Carl. I could have plucked your eye out.”
“And you’d be dead.” Carl glanced down at the butt of a dagger gently prodding Amayako in the belly.
Cenere’s eyes were nearly the size of dinner plates as he realized the dagger in Carl’s hand was the one he’d had on his own belt. “I didn’t even see him move!”
“Kid, this is nothin’. You should see Sifu Yi on a bad day. He’d have stopped your heart with a handshake. With any of his four arms. While hung over on cheap whiskey. Anywho, the Oracle. Where is he? I don’t mean to be brusque, but we’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Amayako took a drag of Carl’s cigarette, her lightning blue eyes flashing briefly and the image of a dragon gracing her features for the briefest of moments as she blew the smoke out her nose. She reached into her bodice and withdrew a large key and a small notebook.
“Follow the instructions, to the letter. Otherwise you’ll never find the keyhole. Oh, and before you curse my name while figuring out this puzzle, remember that the little prick is the one who drew up the plans. Word of warning: he’s more than a little abrasive.”
“Oh, I’ve dealt with-”
“Like 50 grit sandpaper.”
“Huh. That bad, hey? Any subjects I should avoid, then?”
Amayako smiled predatorially, like a cat with a rat in its paws. “He’s not very fond of Satanists.”
Carl dug his pack of Black Jacks back out of his coat. “Joy.”
∞∞∞
An hour, several semi-lethal puzzle traps, and half a pack of cigarettes later, Carl and Cenere stood in front of a blank wall. Carl pulled a small worn notebook back out of his pocket and opened it back to the dog-eared page about this particular wall. He rolled his eyes as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses, slipping them on and tapping the pentagram on the hinge to activate the enchantments woven into the lenses. The wall was suddenly covered in draconic script, and Carl pulled his pack of smokes back out of his pocket as he read the varied passages covering the wall. He sparked a candle’s worth of hellfire on the tip of his thumb, lighting his cigarette.
“Hmm.” Carl rubbed a dragon’s eye painted on the wall in invisible paint, pushing down on the eye to “close” it as per the instructions. The wall slid away, revealing a large iron door covered in agony sigils. Carl pinched the bridge of his nose as he placed his hand on the one unsigiled part of the door, spread his fingers, and put the key in between his index and middle fingers. The key sank into the door and he turned it counter clockwise, causing the door to disappear. A simple wooden door lay beyond and Carl looked down at the notebook.
“Seriously? ‘Shave and a haircut’?” Carl shook his head, then knocked on the door to the tune mentioned in the notebook. He heard someone on the other side yell “two bits,” and the door opened by itself.
A deep voice rasped, “Who dares to enter my chamber? What business do you bring before the Oracle of Kyoto?”
“Oracle of Kyoto, huh? Quite a title to grant yourself. Or, perhaps I should call you Jin? That is your name, isn’t it?”
A pair of massive eyes opened in the gloom, blazing orange glaring through the darkness. The scent of ozone filled the air and Carl felt his hair stand on end from the static electricity. He stared incredulously at the “Oracle” who was sitting on a large cushion, playing videogames as the illusion of a massive dragon menaced the two Inquisitors in the chamber.
“You dare speak my name, mortal? I shall-”
“Konami code. You need to put it in if you want to bypass the puzzle traps.”
The “dragon’s” eyes widened in confusion as Cenere tried his best not to lose control of his bladder. He glared at Carl as he literally shook in his shoofs; Carl simply sneered at the tiefling as he dug out his pack of smokes, then pulled off his shades and handed them to Cenere. “Shades of True Sight. Cost me about twenty grand but it’s always worth it to see the man behind the curtain. I recommend you invest in a pair, pup. Now then, almighty Oz, howsabout we cut the crap and you drop the illusion?”
The tiny man sitting on the oversized beanbag chair paused his game, then glared over his shoulder at the Orc in the gloom. He sighed, then snapped his fingers with his right hand, activating the mnemonic coded instructions for ending a spell. A much higher voice squeaked at Carl as the tiny gnome stood up and swaggered over to the pair. “Fine, what in the Allmother’s dusty twat do you want? I’m kinda busy, you know. These videogames won’t play themselves.”
Cenere sneered at the diminutive Oracle as Carl looked at him in confusion. The little guy’s hair was an unkempt mess, like many seers, oracles, and lightning-bolt scarred young wizards before him. The gnome had his arms crossed and was staring at his fingernails as Carl reached into his coat. “Well, the long and short of it is, you need to come with us. Mission of dire importance, and all that.”
The gnome lifted one delicate eyebrow as he stared upward at the chain-smoking Inquisitor. “And? Why should I care? I’m an Oracle. As in, I don’t really get involved in quests, trials, kid’s birthday parties, or fool’s errands. I’ll tell you what though. The McGuffins you’re looking for? Wait a few days, then look in the toilet. If you don’t find them, you can search each other’s assholes just in case they got stuck. If you strike brown, you’re in the right area. Now, kindly fuck off. I have no interest in helping a couple of self-important devil-men in their quest to prove who can stuff the most dicks in their mouths.”
Cenere’s sneer became a snarl as he reached for a throwing knife from his belt. The snap of a baton and the gentle prod of Carl’s asp on his wrist stopped him. “Easy, pup. He’s not fully apprised of the situation. Plus, he’s not one of us.” Carl winked at Cenere as he continued, “Besides, it’s not your fault gnomes tend to be on the cowardly side. Let’s just say our piece and be on our way. After all, I doubt such a…beloved gnome as our oracular friend here would be interested in an opportunity to be as rich as Croesus.”
The gnome’s ears perked up at the mention of money, but he shook his head and then somehow looked down his nose as he stared upward. “First of all, no amount of blood money would ever cause me to call a devil-man like you a ‘friend’. So, get that foolish notion out of your feeble little mind right now. Secondly, we gnomes are hardly cowards, no more than you Orcs are pig-fuckers. Unless you have to fight your sow of a wife for slops.”
Cenere’s eyes widened in shock when he felt a rather warm draft with the faint scent of sulfur emanate from Carl. He carefully and unobtrusively took a few steps away from Carl, remembering the last time the man’s wife had been insulted. Carl’s breathing became more measured, taking deep breaths to maintain his calm.
“As for your fancy little friend, I have no need for a catamite in my chambers. He can wait in the hall.” Cenere’s fear of Carl was overridden by the slight against him by the bespectacled little nerd with solid brass balls. “So, go ahead with the spiel, you swine, then get lost. And don’t leave a print of your asses on the door on your way out.”
“First of all, you little shit, you’re talking to a Grand Inquisitor-”
“Who’s trying big titles on for size now, huh?” Jin snarked at Cenere while Carl strode forward and held out a sealed manila envelope. Carl glared down at the gnome, who stared back defiantly as he took the envelope and broke the seal. Out came the black folder stamped D.I. Jin read the full file before looking up. “You son of a bitch. Where the hell did you get this? How is this possible?” Jin asked in a low, threatening voice as he held up a small, zip-closed baggie with a scintillating, opalescent white scale that glowed faintly. Carl shrugged, pointing at the date on the note in the dossier the zip-closed bag was taped to.
“Check the date, mate. And, I may add, i
t’s got his personal signature. I haven’t read your note, but I have read others. They’re apparently time locked; you can only read parts that are relevant to you at the moment.”
Jin reread the note. In ancient Draconic, written in a rough scrawl, was a message from the Allfather. The smudges of dirt and machine oil helped establish the pedigree of the writer, as Bahamut was well known for enjoying menial labor; the running joke among the now extinct gold dragons in the religion used to be that he was the Janitor of his own temple. A rather inauspicious hobby for one of the two Dragon Gods, to be sure, but he enjoyed the ironic humility it seemed to grant him. A scale of his would be rarer than chicken lips in the modern day, what with the deity being dead. It became public knowledge that even a God could be felled with a thermonuclear device of sufficient magnitude.
It simply said:
Jin Squallrider,
Get off your damn high horse, shut your trap, and follow the “Devil Men” as you put it. First off, it’s not blood money, it’s earned coin. You’re not an enlightened being, you just get better reception than most. And for Tiamat’s sake, do try to grow up a bit.
Bahamut.
P.S., Bring me a case or two of chocolate bars, would you? We don’t get much chocolate over here at the moment, embargo and all.
Jin looked up from his note, a single tear running down his cheek. “So…if I go on this mission, I’ll get to-”
“See Bahamut?” Carl asked, interrupting the little man. “More than likely. Might even get to talk to him.”
Jin carefully removed the scale from the sealed baggy, feeling the faint glimmer of divine power suffused within. The scale felt warm, like it had just come off Bahamut’s hide. He looked back up at Carl. “So, this mission is to fulfill the Prophecy that comes around every couple millennia, correct? Fine. I’ll do it. Not for you, or for your fancy little friend, or your damned religion…I’ll be doing it for him. If there’s even the remotest chance I can meet my God, I’ll take it. Now then, I have a few requirements and they’re non-negotiable. First off, I get first dibs on staves.”