Vortena

by Neven Iliev

  It wasn’t just its size, either. The waiting area immediately beyond the entrance was lavishly decorated, with an air of dignity and class. Plush carpeting lined the entrance and led to the reception desks some eight metres away, while magical lights adorned the walls and ceiling, making the space just bright enough to not be unpleasant despite the lack of windows. The walls were hung with paintings and portraits, and a pair of banners hung like tapestries, bearing the white-on-black guild crest – a stylised fist gripping a wand, framed on either side by an arcane symbol.

  Furniture-wise, the place was rather barren. There were a few benches lining the walls and two elevated desks with dwarven clerks sitting behind them, but that was really it. A Quest Board was visible on the far wall directly between the aforementioned desks, and a total of six people waited in line at the counters, each dressed in cloaks and robes of various dark colors.

  The Order of the Black Wand was one of the largest Caster guilds in the country, so it made sense that most of their clientele would be of a mystical persuasion. The organisation was also known for handling magical matters of questionable repute, so they predominantly dealt with Warlocks and Necromancers. Not exclusively, though, as they also counted Wizards, Alchemists and Rogues alike among their specialists.

  But Boxxy didn’t give much of a damn about any of that. All it wanted was to finally get its Warlock Job past Level 25.

  However, it was having some difficulty determining which queue it needed to line up at. The one on the left had a brass signpost stamped with the image of a stack of coins, with a rather long word underneath. Looking more closely at the woman at the front of the line, she seemed to be trying to haggle with the clerk about a ‘member’s discount’ of some sort. Judging by what little Boxxy knew about guilds, it determined that that was the requisitions office – a fancy way of saying ‘guild shop.’ Not where one might inquire about less material services.

  The queue on the right was far more promising. Its signpost was decorated with the image of a quill and parchment, implying that it was the administration desk. And what Boxxy needed right now was to have someone administer a Job Advancement, so it immediately got in line to the right.

  Immediately in front of Boxxy was a male gnome draped in a black, hooded cloak who looked to be around Fizzy’s age. His face wasn’t visible from the back, but the former mimic’s magical perception told it that there were some nasty burn marks on his right cheek and temple.

  But far more interesting than the gnome was the thing floating directly above him. It was a spherical creature about a metre in diameter, with bright red, almost pink, skin covered in considerable bumps and wrinkles. It had one massive purple eye in the middle of its face, underneath which was a large mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Ten tendril-like eyestalks waved from the top, sides and back of its head, almost like errant strands of hair, and each eyeball a different color.

  Boxxy’s Demonology Skill identified the creature as a beholder, one most likely bound to the gnome. According to the lore, beholders were demons whose main purpose was not combat, but gathering information through observation. They loved hoarding secrets and knowledge, and typically avoided sharing what they knew.

  That didn’t mean that they couldn’t fight, however. Their offensive capabilities may have been lacking, but the various types of eyebeams that they could fire were capable of weakening their target or making them vulnerable to specific elements. They could also erect magical barriers in order to protect their masters, although they generally had to be specifically ordered to do so. Beholders were, like all demons, fickle and selfish creatures that would have loved nothing more than to see their summoner perish so that they could roam the mortal plane freely.

  Boxxy stared unabashedly at the beholder as it called up everything it knew about the species. This was only the second time the Mimic had seen a demon other than one of its familiars up close, the first being Punchy, of course. Overcome with curiosity, it probed at the creature’s insides with its magically-enhanced senses, eager to see how it was put together. As expected, there were barely any internal organs, as most of the body mass was just thick muscle and skull bones. The only things of note were a brain smaller than it would have imagined, a disc-shaped organ at the roof of its mouth and an odd body part that looked like three hourglasses joined at the middle.

  Come to think of it, that seemed oddly familiar, especially the way those flesh nodules pulsed and spun. It took a few moments, but Boxxy eventually realised that the thing was the beholder’s own Mana Locator Gland, one far more advanced than even a mimic’s.

  … And the fact that the shapeshifter could ‘see’ the gland meant that the demon could do the same. In fact, judging by the way the beholder silently turned in mid-air to stare at Boxxy with all eleven eyes, it had most definitely noticed something amiss.

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

  The demon spoke directly into Boxxy’s mind with the voice of an old man, hinting at centuries’ worth of wisdom. The shapeshifter could also feel a slight disturbance in the mana around it, probably the beholder analysing its body in some way. This was, to put it mildly, not a very tasty situation.

  “How quaint!” the demon exclaimed telepathically. “A doppelganger!”

  Correction – this was almost as un-tasty as the situation could get.

  “I haven’t seen one of your kind in centuries! I do so miss the secrecy and conspiracies you lot used to inspire! A pity, really.”

  Oddly enough, the demon actually sounded jovial and intrigued rather than suspicious. Shouldn’t he have alerted his master that there was a monster literally standing behind him?

  “Do not fret, young one,” he reassured the ex-mimic. “I have no intention of ratting you out to that pathetic gnome. Just the opposite, in fact, I’m rather looking forward to seeing what you intend to do in here.”

  And now Boxxy just felt silly. It had literally just been musing on the fact demons did not care anything for mortal lives, least of all their master’s. There had been no reason to think that this one would be any different. Forget warning the gnome, the beholder was far more likely to simply ask it to gut the fool and leave him unshackled.

  “I’m sure you won’t mind if I just quietly observe, no?”

  The fake elf shook its head lightly in response. If the demon was content to merely analyse its body for the sake of his own curiosity, then Boxxy really had no reason to decline. It did, however, have a very good reason not to decline, as it was likely that the beholder would rat it out if he wasn’t allowed to do as he wanted. Boxxy was confident that it could escape if it came to that, but it didn’t want to ruin its chance to finally further its Warlock Job by causing an unnecessary ruckus.

  “That gland you have there,” the demon inquired. “It’s not something typically found in doppelgangers, yes?”

  Boxxy shook its head.

  “The shape and size look familiar… that’s a mimic’s Mana Locator Gland, is it not?”

  The shapeshifter answered with a slight nod.

  “Interesting. Are you perchance one of Tal-Saroth’s original creations?”

  Boxxy had no idea who that was, but considering that it was just one of many mimics born within a low-Level dungeon, the answer to that was a firm ‘no.’

  “Could it be… a Ranked Up mimic?”

  The shapeshifter nodded once again, much to the beholder’s delight.

  “How unusual! And you’re in this place, then that means- Oh, I see! So that’s how it is! Wah hah hah hah hah!”

  The demon bared his fangs, smiling viciously at the elf. His head bobbed slightly as he laughed.

  “Thruumitt!” the gnome whispered angrily. “I told you not to bother anyone in here!”

  Though that had indeed been his instruction, Boxxy hadn’t been in the building when the order had been given. Meaning that there was technically nothing to prevent Thruumitt from alleviating his boredom by ‘bothering’ the creature.
r />   “Face the front and close your mouth!”

  The demon rolled his near-dozen eyes and turned to face the front.

  “Sorry if he creeped you out,” the shorter man apologised. “These ancient ones, they’re a pain in the ass to keep in line sometimes.”

  “No worries. It happens.”

  Of course Boxxy didn’t mind. Quite the contrary, it was relieved that its cover seemed to still be intact for the moment. It had after all done nothing to earn the demon’s spite, and it wasn’t in Thruumitt’s nature to reveal a secret willingly. That aside, it was actually rather thankful to the demon, as the conversation had revealed a glaring flaw in its disguise. Namely, that it was only skin deep.

  While Boxxy hadn’t been able to alter its internal organs as a simple chest mimic, doppelgangers had no such restrictions. They only needed to ensure that their spine remained intact and that they had lungs to breathe with, but other than that almost everything was fair game. There was nothing stopping Boxxy from looking like an elf both inside and out, other than its lack of experience creating internal anatomy. It was confident that it could put up a convincing facade with some practice, though. Elf bodies were almost identical to those of humans, after all, other than a few key differences such as their hearts being located on the right sides of their bodies instead of the left.

  And if there was one thing Boxxy T. Morningwood knew, it was human anatomy.

  Having made a mental note to work on internal organs later, the shapeshifter moved on to pondering the root cause of the issue. It had grown complacent, thanks to its ability to easily bypass Appraisals and the powerful-yet-flexible new body it had obtained. The events leading up to its capture had taught it the painful lesson that weeks of deception could easily come unravelled with a single slip-up. Plots months or even years in the making could be undone in an instant if it wasn’t careful. If it was planning to infiltrate enlightened society for any extended period of time, then the first thing that it needed to practice was not shapeshifting or social skills, but vigilance.

  It started working on that right away, double-checking the fake Status that its Essence Concealment was currently broadcasting. Thanks to that, it finally realised that it had accidentally put its fake age as ‘17 fish,’ a leftover from when it had been trying out the limits and flexibility of the Skill. If it wasn’t for the gatekeeper’s robotic attitude while checking its Status, it was unlikely that it would have even gotten past the gates. Boxxy quickly corrected it to ‘17 years’ and turned its attention to the other problem it had spotted.

  Specifically, the eye-shaped insignia on its right shoulder. It hadn’t thought much of it initially, but Boxxy now realised that most of the people here bore the Order’s crest on their clothes, which was distinctly different from its own. It wasn’t sure if this would be a problem, but it knew just who to ask.

  “Snack!”

  It had told its familiars to hide themselves somewhere beyond the town’s borders, just in case something happened and it needed backup.

  “What is it, Master?” Xera replied. “Did something happen?”

  “Everyone in this guild has the same thing on their shoulder. It doesn’t match mine.”

  “You mean the guild crest?”

  “I guess?”

  “Not an issue. Just say you left your old guild due to personal reasons and you should be fine. Oh, and try to sound evasive when you say that.”

  “Ah. What was that guild called, again?”

  “Brotherhood of the Third Eye, Master.”

  “That’s a strange name.”

  “Is it?” Xera asked dubiously. “I think it’s a pretty good one, to be honest. Definitely better than ‘Order of the Black Wand,’ at least.”

  The shapeshifter supposed that there was no accounting for taste. Although…

  “But what about the other two?”

  “… Other two what?”

  “Isn’t there a Brotherhood of the First Eye Master? And one for the Second Eye Master? What if there’s a Fourth?”

  The succubus sighed through the thought link.

  “No, Master, that last part was me addressing you. The guild is called the Brotherhood of the Third Eye.”

  “Oh… that makes even less sense.”

  Humans, elves, and the like had only two eyes, so why would they need an organisation dedicated to a nonexistent third one? Were they trying to grow such a thing, perhaps? If that was the case, they should’ve been the Brotherhood of the Second Heart. That sounded much tastier.

  “Next!”

  The blonde clerk at the front shouted for the next in line, breaking the creature away from its fantasies. The gnome and its beholder familiar stepped up to the now-empty counter. They spoke briefly about making some kind of appointment, which caused the gnome to become rather irate when it became clear that the person he was looking for had left town the day before. He muttered a few unkind words before leaving in a huff, Thruumitt shooting Boxxy a final pleading look that seemed to say ‘please kill this idiot,’ as he floated by. The shapeshifter pretended not to notice.

  “Next!”

  “Hello!”

  The not-elf took a few steps forward, greeting the elven clerk cheerfully. The monster was inwardly glad that the receptionist wasn’t human, otherwise its Butcher of Humanity Perk would have made things… difficult.

  “Hello there, sir,” she replied with a bright smile to match Boxxy’s. “What can I help you with?”

  “I need to see a Warlock trainer.”

  “Of course. I will need to confirm a few things. Are you a member of the Order of the Black Wand?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any current guild affiliations?”

  “No.”

  “What about past guild affiliations?”

  “Yes.”

  “… Which are?”

  “Ah, the Brotherhood of the Third Eye,” Boxxy added, showing her its shoulder patch. “I had to leave due to… personal reasons.”

  “I understand completely, sir,” she nodded. “Those humans can be quite insufferable sometimes, can’t they?”

  “Indeed.”

  As expected, Snack’s advice allowed things to go much more smoothly than they would have if it had tried to bumble its way through the interaction by itself.

  “Would you be interested in joining our guild, instead?” the clerk offered. “I can’t vouch for other branch offices, but I personally guarantee that we do not tolerate discrimination here, be it racial, sexual or occupational.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “As you wish, sir. Moving on, I need to inform you that a Full Appraisal will be mandatory before we can perform any kind of Job training. Is that alright?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And lastly – what sort of Warlock training do you need?”

  “I need to get past Level 25.”

  “Well, you’re in luck, sir. We have a trainer available right now, but we need to discuss the 500 GP training fee before we can proceed.”

  “…”

  Boxxy hesitated. It hadn’t been stupid enough to think that the service was going to be free, but it hadn’t expected the fee to be quite so steep. Even if they did hike the price up for non-guild members, this felt like a bit much. The receptionist seemed to notice its dilemma and was quick to reassure the potential client.

  “I understand that it seems a bit expensive, but please understand that finding a Level 50 Warlock who also has a Level 4 Mentor Skill is rather difficult around these parts. The individual I will be referring you to is also a Scribe, so he is perfectly capable of performing the Appraisal as well.”

  She had a point, though not in the way she probably thought. Boxxy didn’t exactly have a lot of options at present, nor did it feel like hunting for them, so it decided to take the financial hit and get this over with.

  “Okay, I’ll pay.”

  It reached inside its robes and pulled out the heavy coin pouch it had prepared befor
ehand. Counting out exactly 500 GP worth of coins, it placed them on the counter in front of the goggle-eyed clerk. She had been about to suggest some sort of loan or payment plan, since she certainly hadn’t expected a young lad to be carrying that much gold. Her experienced eyes told her that there was at least four, maybe five times that amount remaining in the pouch. Not the sort of wealth one would expect a random youngster to have access to.

  “One moment, please.”

  Recovering from the mild shock, she scooped up the coins, storing them away in the strongbox behind the counter. She pulled out a small scrap of paper with a few markings on it and scribbled down some letters and numbers. When she was done, she stamped the parchment with the seal of the Order of the Black Wand and handed it to her client.

  “Here you go, sir. Just head through the door on your right and enter the third office on the left. Show this ticket to the bearded gentleman inside and he’ll handle the rest.”

  “I see,” Boxxy said, eyeing the door in question.

  “Is there anything else you will be needing today?”

  “This trainer is a Scribe?”

  “He is indeed,” the clerk nodded once again.

  “Could he appraise a magic item for me?”

  Boxxy was eager to find out the exact properties of the fancy staff it had picked up in the Spire of the Jade King. That was why it had covertly brought it out from its Storage and was currently carrying it in a sturdy shoulder sling. It had wrapped the item in a white sheet so as to not draw too much attention to its clearly-demonic ornamental skull.

  “Of course, although that will be a separate charge of 25 GP.”

  At least that was more reasonable. Boxxy promptly paid and was given another scrap of paper covered with a bunch of numbers and letters that seemed like gibberish, much like the first one. It was probably some code or shorthand that only the guild’s employees knew. It thanked the woman and moved through the doorway she had pointed out.

  The hallway beyond was far less extravagant than the lobby. The walls were bare save for a number of doors, ending in a decrepit-looking staircase. As Boxxy proceeded down the passage it noticed that there was a plaque with some kind of engraved lettering on each door. It couldn’t read what they said, but it could count well enough to know which door was the third on the left.