“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “Anyway, you have done a great service for the Empire. We will immediately dispatch Inquisition forces to the Novus Ordo Seclorum and the White City, where we will separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. If any can be deprogrammed and salvaged, the Empire will have her healers. I’m sorry your name won’t be on that list. As far as anyone knows, you’re still a criminal.”
I scoffed. “You had to sacrifice my good name and reputation.”
“We did. I’m sorry,” she said.
Corvus put their arm around me and I leaned into their warm leather coat. It was terribly cold in Harrowick.
“How bad is it, doctor?” I asked.
“Damaged confidence, bruised ego, and your judgment is severely impaired, but you’ll live,” said Corvus.
Yvonne accepted a parchment-wrapped package from Ser Berrick, tied with black ribbon and sealed with black wax. “We cannot pardon you, because you were never fairly tried. The Council of Reconciliation will still want to speak with you, and that’d be a whole thing that could take months. Given our suspicions on Jericho’s public confession are a time sensitive matter, we’d rather have you in the field than drowning in bureaucracy.”
She held out the package for me. “This packet contains all the things you need to be our Envoy in Ankara. It includes a medal that acts as a get-out-of-jail-free card if you’re caught—look at me, Liset,” she said, pointing at her eyes. “Listen very closely—if you’re caught in service to this mission.”
I accepted the package and slipped it into my inventory.
“Officially though,” said Yvonne, “we don’t know where you went and you’re still wanted.”
I laughed. “Yes, I’m a big important Inquisition agent. Here’s a medal. Thank you for your service. Don’t tell anyone we let you off the hook, nudge nudge, wink wink, now please get the hell out of our country. Is that what you’re saying?”
Yvonne leaned over to Ser Berrick. “She’s not as dumb as you thought, see?” she whispered to him. She turned back to me. “Yeah, basically.”
“I’m on the payroll, right?” I asked.
She glanced over at Ser Berrick. “We... can arrange for requisitions related to the mission.”
“I also had some promissory notes that weren’t fulfilled.”
“We have those and can write new ones.”
I hesitated and pulled the package back out. As much as I didn’t want to work for the Inquisition—not after what they did to me, even if in the end our goals were aligned—they were offering me a ticket out of here. Any port in a storm, and all that.
“I’ll drink about it,” I said.
“Don’t you mean think?” suggested Ser Berrick.
“No,” said Yvonne, shaking her head. “Liset, if you do this, the Council of Reconciliation might even talk to you nicely when you come back to make amends.”
I touched the new brand on my neck. It had healed from the raw, burnt wound it was after all the magic flowing through me this morning, but it still marked me as a traitor to the temple. I almost wanted to wear it with pride. I looked to Kismet for guidance.
Kismet looked shell-shocked at the mention of the council and covered her golden eye with her right hand.
I touched her arm gently. “How was it with them?” I asked.
“The council was gracious and merciful and only want the best for the Empire and its people,” she repeated monotonously.
I hugged her waist and apologized I put her through that.
“Regarding the Inquisitor,” said Yvonne, clearing her throat, but I didn’t let go of my woman. “There’s an Inquisitorial commission on dealing with the so-called Traveler Problem. I have asked for a provisional reinstatement of Knight-Errant Yilmaz if her team of Envoys is able to provide answers on what these cursed blades are and who this Areste is.”
That settled it then. Kismet gave up her Inquisitor rank for me. This was the least I could do. Besides, Merchant-Craft told me this was the best deal I was going to get, and the cursed dagger in my inventory promised me I could meet Areste. Cian believed she was in Ankara.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said.
Ser Berrick nodded. “If you find answers as to how the temple became corrupted, all the evidence against you will suddenly be in question,” he said.
“And Corvus will be pardoned, too?” I asked.
“No—” said Ser Berrick.
“Yes,” said Yvonne. Her authority seemed to override his. He didn’t say another word.
We shook on it. Yvonne pulled out the gear they had confiscated from me yesterday morning. I held the masterwork Priest set from Keres in my hands like it was fine silk and pocketed the fifty gold I had made at the festival. The gear said I could equip it now, so I did. It felt soft on my skin and hugged me like a fine dress. It even had hidden pockets.
I checked my notifications, my hands shaking with excitement.
<<<>>>
x1 Level Up!
You have (5) undistributed stat points
You have (1) unassigned proficiency point
<<<>>>
I was finally level 15. I pulled up my character sheet, intent on placing three points into Intelligence and two points into Strength, but another notification popped up.
<<<>>>
System Message: Character Sheet Locked!
You cannot assign attribute points to your character while under the effect of mind-altering substances.
<<<>>>
I sighed. Fine. That was probably true for my proficiency points and skill tree as well, but it at least let me look at Duality. I stared at it like a kid admiring a shiny toy through a storefront window.
<<<>>>
Skill: Duality
The dose makes the poison, and so it is for the Light of the Gods. Mercy that once offered healing may turn to Wrath and smite the unrepentant for their sins.
Skill Type/Level: Spell/Initiate
Cost: N/A
Range: N/A
Cast Time: 3 seconds
Cooldown: N/A
Effect 1: Switch to Smite Stance, called Severity, by using your nondominant hand to cast spells; those spells that were once healing now inflict damage upon their targets.
Effect 2: May switch stance back to Mercy by altering which hand you use to cast.
<<<>>>
As soon as this Affka wore off, I would have it. I never wanted to feel helpless again.
Yvonne pulled me into one final hug.
“Gaia be with you, friend.”
Epilogue
Divine Madness
We hitched a ride with the Inquisition forces headed to the White City and the Temple of Areste northwest of Harrowick, at the tip of the Tanglewood. We were, after all, a couple of fugitives handed over by the Seneschal. A day later, they were kind enough to conveniently look the other way when we got close and stopped by the 12th Step Inn in the mountains south of Stone Reach.
Word had spread. Keter, the innkeeper, took us in in a heartbeat, especially when we remembered to not step on the squeaky plank of wood. We paid him for our rooms by working in the kitchen. Chef Gumi taught me his pink cupcake recipe, as well as some of his Wode cuisine, like stews, roasted meats, and breads. Keter offered to teach me brewing. I was tempted to stay long enough to learn. If I stayed on the Affka, it’d cost me a gold a day. Replacing it with drink wasn’t the healthiest option, nor anywhere near the ideal one, but the cursed dagger kept talking to me and I’d take anything to shut the voices up. Even Keter’s liquor and the subsequent hangovers.
The Inquisition planned to take the temple by surprise. I had front-row seats on the balcony of the inn and was already half in the bottle when I saw them storm the pearly gates from across the valley. From the looks of it, it could’ve been a peaceful transition, especially considering the majority were neophytes who barely had a few levels in Healer. Fires were started though. I imagine they felt such loyalty and devotion to Jericho that if they couldn’t ha
ve their home, no one could. I could only hope that the Council of Reconciliation was kind in their deprogramming efforts. Given how Kismet had described them, it was one cult for another.
But none of that was my problem anymore.
Yvonne had sent me a private message with a portal scroll to Ankara and a note that since the Commissar had me looking into dungeon hearts, if I should come across any, I should bring them back. I had no intention of doing so. If I stole any—and I certainly didn’t plan to upset Cernunnos—it’d be to start my own healer faction. Competition bred innovation, and all. Why should the Inquisition have a monopoly any more than Jericho?
The smoke off the temple ruined the beautiful view of the Northern Lights I had. I took another drink to quell the blade’s whispering. To touch the dagger made me sick to my stomach, but I had enough liquor in me not to care. I pulled it out to inspect it. The black, double-edged blade had an intricately carved ebony handle.
<<<>>>
Black Hexblade of Serth-Rog
Weapon Type: Bladed; Dagger
Class: Unique, One-handed
Base Damage: 25
Primary Effects:
· +10 to Strength
· +10 to Dexterity
· +100 pts Cold Damage
· +5% to Critical Hit when Backstabbing
Unique Usable Effect:
Soul Sacrifice: Activate Soul Sacrifice when the target is at Critical Health to suck the soul from their body and send it to the Frozen Realm of Morsheim. Soul Sacrificed bodies cannot be reanimated (Charges: 3)
Note 1: Using the last charge of Soul Sacrifice will permanently destroy this weapon!
Note 2: If a player does not have an “evil” alignment, Soul Sacrifice causes the player to permanently lose 5 points of Spirit!
Note 3: If a player does not have an “evil” alignment, Soul Sacrifice activates the Entwined-Fate debuff, causing the player to die when the victim dies, and respawn in their normal location!
Note 4: Any player killed using Soul Sacrifice will become a Spectral Revenant; their respawn point will be changed to Skálaholt, capital of Morsheim, until they can find a way to return to the land of the living!
The Black Blade of Serth-Rog is granted only to the darkest, most bloodthirsty servants of Serth-Rog: the Black Priests of the Hexblade. It is a wicked artifact, forged from the essence of the Dark Lord Himself ...
<<<>>>
I put it away and took another drink. I missed Veronika. I hadn’t known her long. It didn’t feel enough that she had paid her debt to me. I hadn’t even known her especially well. Acuity was supposed to help me resist Illusion magic, and I saw how well that worked out. No, it was that she was my NPC, and the gods had sent her to intersect my path. To save her life, at first, but in the end she was dead all the same. I wished I’d had more time with her. With Hector and Retta, too.
Still. I admired the Imperial woman, and stabbing your political opponent in the public square had to be the most Roman thing yet.
I inspected the Inquisition medal I wore around my neck—
Kismet interrupted me by placing a hand on my shoulder. I jumped and nearly fell out of my chair. Seeing her out of her armor soothed my nerves instantly though. I’d spent some of our funds to get her new gear, since she couldn’t bear the emblem of the Inquisition anymore. The linen shift she wore as a nightgown clung tight to her bronze skin and all the soft curves of her muscles. She had been sweating.
“Are you okay?” I asked, standing and clutching her arms. I went on the tips of my toes and placed the back of my hand on her forehead. She wasn’t feverish.
Kismet chuckled and gently pushed me back into the chair. “I’m fine. I had a nightmare when you pulled that dagger out.”
“Ah, right,” I said. Kismet had been infected before, too. She didn’t hear its whispers as strong as I did, but I was better off keeping it hidden.
“Can’t sleep either?” she asked, draping her arms around my neck and resting her chin on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I said, taking another drink and offering the bottle to her. She took it and had a swig for herself. She watched the flames over the mountain temple with me in silence. Her face told me she missed the call of duty as she watched her former brothers- and sisters-in-arms take the temple.
“I’m sorry you can’t be there with them. Because of me,” I said.
“Hmm, yes. I’m sure, as a former Inquisitor, I’ll have to find a way to punish you for that,” said Kismet, playfully nipping at my long ears. I yelped and laughed. I raised the bottle to my lips for another drink, but she covered the top with her hand and lowered it.
I looked her over as she knelt in front of me and cupped my cheeks in her warm hands. They felt good in the cold night air.
“Hey, listen,” she said gently. “You’ve always been good at hiding it with a smile, but it’s okay if you feel upset, whether you think you should or not. Fear and pain aren’t moral failings. You’re a good person still. Good people have a right to complain that a bad situation existed.”
“I know,” I said, though I still felt like I should feel something for my accomplishments.
“We’re still with you. We’re glad you’re still with us. We’ll head to Ankara and figure this out, and we’ll do it together.”
I nodded and went to take another drink, but Kismet took the bottle from me and held my hands in my lap.
“Kis, why did you leave Ankara?” I asked.
“Technically for the same reason you’re leaving the Empire,” she said.
“Exile?”
She nodded.
“Will it be dangerous for you to return?” I asked.
“Ankara will be flooded with refugees trying to escape the war brewing between the Empire and the Crimson Alliance,” she said. “No one will notice another Accipiter.”
I sighed. Kismet stood and kissed my forehead. “Go. Bed,” she commanded.
I held her hand as she tried to pull away. “Go bed who?” I asked, grinning.
“Go to bed, you brat,” she repeated, squeezing my hand. “Have better dreams this time. As the highest-ranking member of our expedition, that’s an order.”
“Is that so?” I asked, pulling her closer to me by her nightshirt. “Why don’t you get in that bed and make me?”
“If you insist,” said Kismet, kissing me hard and sweeping me out of the chair. She carried me to the bed and dropped me onto the soft hay-filled mattress. I stripped off my vestments, letting the dagger sit hidden in my inventory, and I started to help her with her nightshirt through kisses. I couldn’t hear the hateful voices whisper to me anymore. Kismet’s love drowned them out.
The Inquisition might’ve screwed me, but it meant the Inquisitor could finally make love to me.
Books, Mailing List, and Reviews
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Summary
Jack Mitchel is willing to risk everything to survive the apocalypse—including his essential humanity.
An EMT in 2042 San Diego, Jack knows he won't survive the impact of the massive asteroid hurtling towards Earth. After all, he's not one of the handful of lucky lottery winners scheduled for rescue. But he did luck into a NexGenVR capsule, which means Jack can risk a one-way trip to the virtual reality world of Viridan Gate Online, a completely immersive online multiplayer fantasy role-playing game, or RPG.
The transition to Viridian Gate Online (V.G.O.) is irreversible, and will kill Jack's corporeal form. And once players transition fully into the world of V.G.O., the risks aren't over—from cutthroat fellow players to greedy developers eager to replicate the wealth discrepancies of Earth in virtual reality, V.G.O. is just as dangerous as the “real world” was. If Jack can’t game the system, he’s going to be trading in a quick death for a long, brutal one...
LitRPG books combine tropes and themes from role-playing games with sci-fi and fantasy elements to tell a unique story that's exciting and super-relevant to today's world. Jack's adventures in a cutthroat virtual reality fantasy world will grip fans of Ready Player One and The Stormlight Archive alike. With over 200,000 copies sold, this is one series you don't want to miss!
Beginning of the End
I took one last glance around my apartment. A tiny studio flat, just under five hundred square feet, which still cost me a sizeable chunk of change every month. It didn’t help that the cost of living had skyrocketed over the past few years while my meager paycheck had remained rock steady. Which is to say, low. Being an EMT doesn’t pay what it used to, not that it’s ever really been a lucrative career field—kids flipping burgers at most fast-food joints made what I did, despite the demands of the job. Working grueling shifts. Saving lives. Watching people die.
Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2) Page 33