by Unknown
“I suppose… but I still don’t trust you. Not after everything else you’ve done,” Amethyst murmured, causing Wenris to sigh and look at the sky for a moment. Or, to be more accurate, at the spire with the giant glowing ruby in it.
“She can stay,” Sistina said at last, somewhat surprising Wenris, and when she looked down she saw Amethyst staring at Sistina in shock.
“What? Why?” Amethyst asked, pulling her cloak closer.
“Better here than not. Can watch,” Sistina said, her words sparking a bit of grudging approval in Wenris, then she went still as the dryad smiled wryly, adding softly, “Might chase off Lord Nocris and sister. Worth it.”
“Wait, what? What’s this about chasing anyone off?” Wenris asked, confusion and just a hint of anticipation rushing through her. “I thought you’d make me leave everyone else alone!”
“Chase off, not hurt,” Sistina corrected, then looked at Amethyst curiously, and it took her a moment to realize that the elf looked torn.
“That… is surprisingly tempting, yes,” Amethyst admitted, and after a moment she explained. “Lord Nocris is from Idris, the nation north of Sifaren. He’s been making a nuisance of himself, and particularly has been hinting that he thinks our marriage isn’t serious, and that Her Majesty should marry him instead.”
That made Wenris stop and stare for a moment. While she was a succubus, and as such had encountered an enormous variety of mortals over her life, sometimes she had to wonder why some mortals were so ignorant. Certainly, she’d seen sham marriages before. In fact, she recalled a powerful lord in the east who’d acquired an entire harem he never touched just for the reputation, while keeping a male lover in private, but that was rare. Now, someone trying to break up a marriage to take advantage of it she could believe, but even so, trying something like that with Tyria in the palace was just plain stupid.
“Is he an imbecile?” Wenris asked, honestly curious.
“What?” Amethyst asked, looking taken aback, while Sistina’s lips curved in a smile.
“I asked if he’s an imbecile. Phynis married all of you and Sistina, who is a dungeon who created this city in the space of a single night with magic that’s been lost for millennia. You also have Tyria in residence, a goddess who looks favorably on Phynis and Beacon on the whole, and she wasn’t shy about incinerating a large number of overly arrogant nobles in Kelvanis,” Wenris explained, gesturing to the east. “Given that, is he really so stupid as to think that he’s somehow invulnerable?”
“You know… that’s a good point. I didn’t think about it in quite those terms, but we’ve been trying to avoid a diplomatic incident between us and them, since they could take it out on Sifaren,” Amethyst murmured softly, and Wenris couldn’t help a snort.
“Could it possibly be even half as bad as what Kelvanis did? You have golems, battle-hardened soldiers, and a lot of people who won’t allow any risk of that happening again,” Wenris pointed out, shaking her head in dismay. “Really, you need to stand up for yourselves, rather than letting Sistina deal with your problems.”
“Diplomacy is important. Even if I dislike it,” Sistina interjected calmly, narrowing her eyes a little, then gestured. “Come in. Must introduce you.”
Wenris’s eyebrows rose at the gesture, as it also meant that Sistina was telling her to enter the dungeon’s domain. She could sense the edge of it right in front of the gates, which was enough to put her slightly on edge… yet at the same time, Wenris wasn’t foolish enough to think she was safe with Sistina right there. So after a moment she took a step forward and inhaled as she felt the presence of a dungeon’s domain wash over her.
It was different than the handful of other domains she’d ever felt, Wenris noted, though that wasn’t a surprise after her visit earlier in the year. What was surprising to her was the strength of the domain, considering how much mana she’d thought that Sistina must have expended fighting Irethiel. The smooth, ocean-like surface of mana was shocking because it contained so much power already, which made her revise her guess of Sistina’s power sharply upward.
“How have you recovered this much in such a short period? I would have thought you’d pushed yourself to the limit during the battle with my predecessor,” Wenris said carefully, watching the guards idly as she passed them. Amethyst hesitated, then quickly stepped up to Sistina, taking her arm. It was only when the elf’s breath stopped steaming that Wenris realized that Sistina was surrounded by a convenient bubble of warm air.
“Took up artificing. It is useful,” Sistina replied, glancing back and smiling more as she added, “Other dungeons are… primitive. Inefficient.”
Sistina’s smile sent a chill down Wenris’s spine, one which she didn’t quite understand for a long moment, until she finally placed it. It was the same sort of smile Emonael had on her face when she was plotting something terrifying that no one else knew about.
“I see,” Wenris said, watching the dungeon warily.
She suddenly decided that Emonael was right. Sistina could defend herself just fine, and Wenris was not going to do anything to get on her bad side.
Sistina was trying to decide what to make of Wenris now that she had the chance to examine her more closely inside her domain. The new Demon Queen of Chains was good at hiding her power, that much Sistina had to admit, but even so, she couldn’t hide from Sistina, not here.
The succubus had an immense amount of dark magic bound up in her being, along with fire magic as well, which only made sense to Sistina. Irethiel had used darkness and fire as well, so it was only reasonable that her successor would have similar elements… and as she recalled, Emonael had possessed similar affinities, though those memories were incredibly distant.
What intrigued her was the other spark of mana deep inside the demon’s soul, a spark of light mana that was guttering with every passing moment, yet it burned brightly in her mental vision. If it had been a few months ago, Sistina might not have recognized what that spark was, but Wenris’s own words had explained what it was, in the end.
That tiny spark of energy was where Wenris had tied her soul to Diane, Sistina realized, and it provided an opportunity as well. The only question was how to take advantage of that opportunity, and whether Diane would want to.
Regardless, Sistina kept her knowledge to herself, not paying too much attention to the nervous demon queen, and instead she smiled reassuringly at Amethyst and patted her hand. The elf looked a little confused, but her tension eased as well at Sistina’s confidence.
Her goal accomplished, Sistina headed for the throne room, intent on rescuing Phynis from her unwelcome guests. Even if Diane didn’t appreciate her presence, at least Wenris might be of some use.
Chapter 17
Looking around the camp, Kevin Sailor resisted the urge to spit on the ground since that would probably be taken the wrong way. Not that he suspected most of those present would disagree with his opinion on the quality of their camp, but he didn’t want to ruin his chances of getting the Adjudicator’s help.
The camp was in the foothills of the Serpentspine Mountains, in a spot that Kevin’s guild had used as a hideout multiple times, the main reason he’d offered it to Adjudicator Bran when the man had asked for advice. It wasn’t as good as Kevin’s hideout, of course, but after losing their headquarters, Kevin’s guild needed almost all of its hideouts.
For the most part the area had dozens of filthy tents, many of which contained haggard men and women who had scraps of former finery on them. At the center of the camp was the hideout itself, a couple of hunting lodges that concealed the entrance to the underground chambers Kevin’s guild had built.
These were most of the people who remained of Ulvian Sorvos’s kingdom, Kevin knew. There was another Adjudicator at large, but from whispers his agents had heard, Kevin suspected that the man had fled the country entirely. On the other hand, Bran had been trying to keep the country from falling into Slaid Damrung’s hands, though he suspected that he and his allies had ab
out given up at this point. Those who were sticking with him now would all be facing a death sentence if they were captured, after all.
Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Kevin headed toward the primary lodge, nodding to a couple of the guards as he went. None of them stopped him, since he visited fairly often, which didn’t strike him as the best of ideas, but they weren’t his subordinates in the end.
“Master Sailor,” a soldier said at last as Kevin almost reached the lodge door, the gaunt man by the door resting a hand on the hilt of his sword casually. “What brings you here this time? Hopefully not bad news.”
The man left the word ‘again’ unspoken, Kevin noticed, and he couldn’t help a barking laugh as he shook his head.
“Bad news? Have we had much that isn’t bad in the last few months?” Kevin asked rhetorically, pausing so the man didn’t try attacking him. “I don’t think so. In any case, I wouldn’t call what I’ve come about bad, but I also can’t say it’s good, either. A mixed bag, really.”
“Well, that has to be better than last time. Bran was growling at everyone for a week,” the guard said, sighing and gesturing at the door. “Go ahead, then. He’s probably staring at maps, trying to figure out what to do.”
“Unsurprisingly,” Kevin said, nodding and turning the door handle, his nose wrinkling at the smell that wafted out. Obviously, the officers hadn’t been bathing as much lately, which he didn’t approve of, and only made him more thankful that he wasn’t lodging with the refugees here.
The interior of the lodge wasn’t much different than the last time he’d been there, as it was filled with scattered weapons, maps, and other belongings that had been put wherever the residents could find room for them. On the large table in the middle of the room was a stained map, held in place by rocks, and a couple of men looked up from the map at Kevin’s entrance.
One man was a bit shorter, with greasy black hair and a somewhat unkempt appearance, and he was wearing leathers that showed he’d been out in the forests earlier in the day. The blue-eyed man didn’t seem happy to see Kevin, given how his expression tightened at the sight of him.
On the other hand, Bran was a different proposition. He was of middling height, with a lean figure that Kevin knew concealed a good deal of muscle. Bran’s eyes were brown, while his hair was nearly black, and he wore black plate armor that was in good repair and he had a rapier at his side. When Kevin had first met Bran the man had kept clean-shaven, but now he’d let his beard grow out somewhat.
“Kevin, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Bran said, straightening and looking at Kevin for a moment, then smiled unhappily. “I see you seem to be doing better than us. Certainly better fed, for that matter.”
“An assassin’s guild is used to gathering supplies without drawing notice, which gives us some advantages, but there’s only so much we can purchase without drawing attention. I get you what I can and charge fairly for it,” Kevin replied calmly, stepping inside and closing the door as he nodded to Bran’s companion. “Hello, Ruthan.”
“Kevin,” Ruthan replied shortly, his voice rough.
“What brings you here, Kevin? You’re the one who doesn’t like visiting often, so there has to be a reason for it,” Bran said, glancing down at the map sardonically as he almost sneered. “Are you cutting ties with us? I honestly couldn’t blame you, with as sorry of a lot as we are now.”
“Of course not. You know enough about us to make life painful, and you paid me so much that would be dishonorable,” Kevin replied, anger welling up inside him as he glared at Bran. “In fact, I’m somewhat insulted you’d think that of me. I even warned Ulvian when we distanced ourselves from him, I’ll have you know.”
“A fat lot of good that did us,” Ruthan muttered, and Bran gave him a sharp look.
“None of that! We can’t change the past, just our future,” Bran barked out, straightening and growling. “Not that we have much of a future at this rate. Damrung’s army is slowly trawling through the region, and it’s only a matter of time before they find us.”
“Indeed. They’ve already found a couple of cells of my people, with predictable results,” Kevin said, his anger changing targets as he grimaced unhappily. “They didn’t want to be put on trial, so they fought. I know that a couple of them escaped, but the captives will be put to death once the trials are over.”
“Unless they give us away,” Bran said flatly.
“An unfortunate possibility. That’s the only reason I’m seriously considering the offer that came through an intermediary,” Kevin said, and his words drew the attention of both men.
“An offer? Would this offer involve us as well?” Bran asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Yes, it would. I will say that the offer was… strange, so I did some investigating into who was behind it. In the end I determined that it’s a church dedicated to a deity opposed to Medaea,” Kevin said carefully, not completely showing his hand yet. “The offer is fairly simple in the end. They’re offering to help us leave Kelvanis and travel to Halstad, where they can guarantee that we’d both become barons at a minimum. Given Halstad, that would allow a good deal of potential for upward mobility.”
Bran’s eyebrows rose, then fell as he frowned, then spoke. “That… is a generous offer, and instantly makes me suspicious. Why would they offer something like that, and what are they asking for? For that matter, how can they even deliver a reward of that nature?”
“Let’s start with how they’d be able to deliver, shall we?” Kevin said, approaching the table and folding his arms. “Leaving would be easy enough, there’s plenty of ships that dock in Sirshif, so that isn’t an issue. Halstad… well, you know how wealthy it is, along with all the factions in the country, so getting to it is easy. The issue is that King Corin was robbed about three years ago. Apparently, someone stole a phoenix egg from his treasury, and he’s been offering the title of a baron to anyone who brings him her head, along with a good deal of wealth. Or them, if it’s a group, he’s not particular.
“Based on that, the people I’ve talked to tracked down the woman responsible, and her description is striking. A petite, short woman with long black hair and eyes that are an unusual purple-blue hue. Does that sound familiar to you?” Kevin asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Elissa, the woman who’s heading Tyria’s church,” Bran said instantly, his eyes narrowing. “Still, how do you know it’s true?”
“Because I gathered information on her when she appeared in Kelvanath and was so close to Ulvian. While investigating, I found a painting that startled me, one from almost ninety years ago,” Kevin said, and he pulled open the enchanted sack hanging on his belt and reached in to pull out the painting, then set it on the table.
The painting wasn’t large, and it depicted six people, three of whom Kevin recognized, while the others weren’t known to him. Ivan Hall, a dead Justicar, Ulvian Sorvos, and Elissa of Silence were all in the picture, and both men looked far younger, while they were each equipped like adventurers. The others were two more men and a woman, one male dwarf, a male elf, and a grinning human woman who had a hand on Elissa’s shoulder. The truly unusual thing was that Elissa looked like she hadn’t aged a day.
“This… is this Justicar Hall?” Bran asked cautiously, frowning. “That’s the Archon, I know it is.”
“Yes, it is. Elissa of Silence was an adventuring companion of theirs, and they attempted to breach the dungeon called The Road to Hell. The three of them survived, but only just, and she went her separate way. My investigations since then show that she aged slowly, much as Ulvian did, and her description matched that of Halstad’s thief, at least until just a few months before she came to Kelvanis,” Kevin explained, smiling as he saw Bran nodding in understanding.
“Interesting. The problem is, what do they want for that?” Ruthan asked suspiciously, which Kevin heartily approved of, since it was one of the things that’d he’d wondered instantly. “Last I heard, she was in Beacon, which is a damn deathtrap.
”
“That’s the problem. Their goal is to hurt Medaea, and Tyria, as much as they can. They’re not talking about attacking the goddess or Beacon, to be clear,” Kevin quickly assured them, taking a deep breath, then let it out again more calmly. “What they want is for us to attack the temple in Westgate. The only direct node connections to Westgate are Kelvanath and Beacon, which means that if they’re going to call for reinforcements, it’ll have to come from those places. If we can draw some of the troops out of Kelvanath with a distraction beforehand, what do you think the odds of either the archpriestess of Medaea or Elissa coming to try to rescue the goddess’s faithful are?”
“Huh. While it’s a dandy idea, what’s to stop Tyria from flying over to Westgate and incinerating us? She has the power to do that, and you know it,” Bran said, looking at the map unhappily.
“Mm, apparently that isn’t as much of a risk as you might think. See, when she acted on behalf of Kelvanis, it was because she was being controlled that she could get away with it, from the explanations I was getting. Apparently, if she starts doing too much, other deities will step in, and that would be bad, considering the Godsrage,” Kevin said, and before either man could speak he added, “I’ll point out that I wasn’t entirely convinced by that explanation myself, at least not initially. Then they pointed out that she hasn’t done anything since the battle at Beacon, not even when you managed to take out one of Damrung’s armies, or when the slaves in Teleth were executed. If she didn’t act then, when some of her priesthood were among the dead, why would she act now?”
“Maybe not, but you’re talking about the leaders of her church! That’s an enormously different situation than a couple of minor priests,” Ruthan retorted, scowling. “I don’t know about you, but if I were a god I wouldn’t take that laying down, rules or no rules.”