The Beginning After The End 08

by Turtle Me

  I didn’t know what a “wogart” was, but I was pretty sure it was an insult.

  “Remember my whole speech about you being a walking bundle of inconsistencies?” Alaric continued, walking toward the door in that unsteady yet surprisingly light-footed gait of his. “Right now, you look like some runaway prince who thinks he’s disguised himself by putting on a shabby outfit. You’d actually draw less attention if you just looked the part of a well-off blood.”

  I frowned at the idea of dressing up like one of those colorful rainbow geese strutting down the streets outside. “Can’t I just look more shabby, like a commoner? I’d feel more comfortable that way.”

  “No,” he stated, deadpan. “Your face stands out too much.”

  “My face stands out too much?” I echoed, bemused.

  “Annoyingly so,” he grumbled. “If I was born with a face like that, I’d just woo some rich highblood lady and bathe in sweet rum every night.”

  Regis jumped back into me, and I could hear his snickering in my head as Alaric continued to mutter quietly about his alcohol-fueled delusions.

  “Fine, let’s get this over with,” I moaned, following Alaric out of our room. “But what’s after that?”

  “You, my dear nephew”—the drunkard patted my back—“will be taking your ascender’s assessment and start making your uncle some money!”

  293

  Blending In

  “This is the fifth outfit already. Is all of this really necessary?” I groaned, stepping out of my changing room and into the viewing area.

  Waiting for me was a plethora of employees from the high-end clothing boutique, and even some other customers who had stopped to enjoy the show.

  “Kid, do you know how many named bloods seek me out only to be put on my waiting list? I’m only doing this because the old coot asked me for a favor,” the bespectacled old woman, who Alaric had introduced as Odile, snapped.

  Her heels clacked on the tile floors as she strode behind me, tying my hair with a thin string.

  “Speaking of the old coot”—I looked back at the short-haired woman— “How do you know him anyway? The two of you are so… different.”

  Odile’s stern expression faltered, and there was something akin to sorrow written on her face, but it was only for a split second.

  “You came for my professional—not personal—advice,” she quipped before turning her sharp gaze to the audience waiting just outside the changing rooms. “Though it seems like my employees are more than willing to offer their professional advice as well.”

  The uniformed employees scattered throughout the crowd of about twenty or so began chuckling nervously. A blonde-haired clerk spoke up first. “All the guests are here as well, Madam Odile. We’re just watching out for them.”

  Odile, who was leading me toward the set of nearby mirrors, snorted derisively, but said nothing as she pushed me onto the platform.

  ‘A once quadra-elemental Lance, gifted with the physique and aetheric abilities of an asura, now reduced to this… a dress-up doll,’ Regis lamented mockingly. ‘Oh, how the mighty have fallen.’

  Keep that up and I’ll get you a nice flower barrette that really highlights your purple mane.

  Regis let out a cackle. ‘I’d rock it.’

  “Your shoulders look narrower when you’re tense like that! We’re going for confidence!” Odile huffed as she combed her short white hair back with her fingers. “Great Vritra, I don’t see what you have to be ashamed about with your face and body.”

  There was a disturbing chorus of agreement from the crowd, and while I hated drawing attention to myself, I had to agree that Odile had quite a sense of style, one that I wasn’t entirely opposed to.

  I looked at myself in the tri-fold mirror. In contrast to the tight-fitting armor I had picked up from the Relictombs, Odile had fitted me in a white dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. Rather than wearing a tie or vest, she had me put on a black sweater underneath a dark blue coat. As the final touch, Odile put on what she called a collar bar that accented my suit to give that “classy noble look” she kept going on about.

  I liked it. It was a bit more… modern than I had expected—this outfit was something I could easily see passing unnoticed in my old world—but really I only cared about blending in. If I had to dress myself up like a pompous princeling to do so, then so be it.

  “He’s a rather whiny boy, but I knew you’d want to get your hands on him,” Alaric said from behind the crowd, drawing more than a few raised eyebrows. The old drunk had also washed up, trimmed his hair and beard, and changed into a completely black suit. He made his way roughly through the audience, then closed a curtain, blocking off the viewing area.

  Several voices rose up in dismay from the other side, but I was glad for the privacy.

  “I just wish you would’ve told me in advance so I could procure an image capturing artifact,” Odile said with a sigh. She snapped out of her daze and pointed a finger at Alaric. “That doesn’t change the fact that I did you a favor, you old drunk! Don’t you dare try to change that.”

  Alaric raised his hands—one of which was still holding onto a bottle of rum—placatingly. “I meant to do nothing of the sort, my beloved crone.”

  “You’re still drinking?” I asked, exasperated. “How’re you going to handle the hangover after all of the alcohol you’ve sucked down?”

  “You can’t get a hangover if you’re always drunk,” he said sagely, tapping his temple with a finger.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Alaric just stared at me as if daring me to refute his point. My words came out as an unintelligible grumble.

  After gathering the literal pile of clothes that Odile had chosen for me and taking it to the front counter to pay, I was met by a confused clerk.

  “Your clothes have already been paid for by Madam Odile,” she said as she bagged my clothes.

  “Oh.” I considered at the number of outfits that were strewn across the counter. “This is a lot of clothes. I’d feel more comfortable paying.”

  “Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s an investment on my part,” Odile’s husky voice said from behind me. I turned to see her walking toward me, Alaric at her side. “It seems like the old coot found someone interesting, and I want to be a part of it.”

  “Let’s go, Grey,” Alaric muttered grumpily. “Before she tries to rip me off even more.”

  After saying our farewells, Alaric and I headed back out in the busy streets, where the sun was beginning to set. A courier would be delivering our new clothes to the inn, which only left us with one last stop for the day.

  “Listen up, my lovely nephew,” Alaric began, sauntering beside me as we made our way out of the shopping district. “If we’re going to get you an ascender’s badge as soon as possible without having you affiliated with any sort of institution, here’s what we have to do…”

  The old drunk proceeded to explain what he had planned. Basically, Alaric would pose as my uncle who had been teaching me to hone my magic and survival skills, since I had no intention of being a merchant like my father. Now that I was of age and had been thoroughly trained, he would be the one to vouch for me in order to take the assessment.

  I had expected something more complicated. “So anyone can just vouch for you in order to take the assessment?”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s because your uncle is a retired ascender himself that he’s qualified to vouch for you,” Alaric said with a cheeky grin. “Unfortunately, passing the assessment won’t be enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll have to participate in—and survive—one ascent by tagging along with an experienced party,” he explained. “Only then will you get an ascender’s badge. Thankfully there’s an ascension chamber right here in Aramoor, which I assumed you were planning to visit, since you’re here.”

  I shook my head. “I had no intentions of going to the Relictombs in this c
ity.”

  Sylvia’s message had given me memories of the four ruins within the Relictombs that I needed to get to. I had already visited one of them, and while I didn’t have an exact map of where the rest of these ruins were, I knew they weren’t in Aramoor.

  “As both your uncle and your partner in crime, may this one ask where it was you were planning on going?” he questioned, staring at me with that glassy gaze of his. While he still looked drunk, Alaric looked much more reliable now that he’d cleaned himself up.

  “I’m looking for ruins within the Relictombs, and while I don’t know exactly where they are, I know it’s not here.”

  “You really aren’t from around here, aren’t you?” he said, leaning closer as we walked. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this by now, from the last time you were inside, but the Relictombs don’t have a conventional structure that you can travel through. You’ve heard of simulets, right?”

  “I have,” I replied, the memory of Daria’s offer still fresh in my mind.

  “The Relictombs were a much deadlier place before the development of the simulets. Before then, even if you crossed an entrance together at the same time, holding hands and all, you would most likely be transported to different zones.” Alaric sighed deeply before continuing. “You say you’re looking for these ‘ruins’ within a specific zone, but the truth is, it doesn’t really matter where you enter the Relictombs, since you never know where you’ll end up. More than that, though, the ascension chamber doesn’t take you into the Relictombs proper, just to the first level.”

  Based on what I’d read, I’d had a feeling tracking down the separate ruins wouldn’t be as easy as just entering the Relictombs from the right place, but so much of the literature around the Relictombs had been subjective that I’d held out hope some of the stranger assertions were simply poetic blather.

  “So I just have to blindly wander around the Relictombs until I stumble across what I’m looking for by chance?”

  Alaric took another sip of his rum, letting out a loud burp before answering. “Some say that the Relictombs has a will of its own, left behind by the ancient mages.”

  I wouldn’t be surprised if the Relictombs did have a mind of its own, but I couldn’t see how this would help me at all. I hated how so much was still outside of my control. If only I’d thought to ask the djinn projection several more in-depth questions about navigating the Relictombs…

  I rubbed my temples. “Fine. It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”

  “Good.” Alaric patted my back. “I have no idea how strong you are, but remember that, while trained, you definitely should try and at least act like you’re having a hard time. Once you’ve gotten your ascender’s badge, it might not be a bad idea to accumulate experience with other parties if you really don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

  ‘You should just ‘summon’ me and let me take the test,’ Regis chimed in.

  “Are solo ascenders that rare?” I asked, ignoring my companion. Trider’s surprise when I mentioned it came to mind.

  “Very,” Alaric answered as he weaved deftly through the crowded street filled with pedestrians. “The Relictombs are much too unpredictable even today, when we have so many records of different zones. It’s why experienced sentries are as important as—if not more than—battle mages.”

  “What sort of mage were you then?” I asked, looking at the old drunk. He looked at least fifty, though a life of hard-drinking could have prematurely aged him, and although he sported a large beer belly, it couldn’t mask the warrior’s build that he once had.

  Alaric turned to face me, frowning slightly. “I thought our deal here was that we don’t pry or ask questions that are unnecessary?”

  I shrugged. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t curious about the old drunk, but it seemed like he had about as much reason to keep me at a distance as I did for him. It was probably why he never specifically confirmed whether I was from Dicathen, even though it was probably pretty obvious for him by now.

  We continued our way through the streets of Aramoor in relative silence until we arrived at the wrought iron gates of a large rhombus-shaped building that stood by itself, set off from the surrounding city by a lush grass lawn. A single paved road, lined on both sides with statues of battle mages, led to the building.

  “This is it, dearest nephew,” Alaric said casually, handing me a small metal card with “Grey” written on it, along with a series of numbers and a birth date that showed I was twenty-two. While I was a bit younger than that, I didn’t say anything.

  I stored the card safely in the inside pocket of my coat. “When did you have the time to get this?”

  “While Odile was having fun dressing you up,” he replied, walking toward the guard stationed inside a small stone chamber next to the front gate.

  After Alaric gave the guard his identification card, along with a piece of paper, the gate quickly opened.

  The old drunkard slid his hand over one of the statues. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  ‘These things aren’t going to crack open like eggs and unleash some awful creature to attack us, are they?’ Regis asked, only half joking.

  I think we’re safe, Regis, I said, reminiscing about how many times I had almost died in that zone alone. Good times.

  Despite how quiet it was outside, when we walked through the doors of the rather flat building, a cacophony of noises erupted over us.

  Alaric cackled in pleasure, noticing my surprise. “Busy, right? There are teleportation gates inside every ascender building, restricted only to ascenders, and a platform where they can use their own tempus warps.”

  I scanned the various groups of mages gathered in their own circle, busy either talking to clerks or amongst themselves. “So the gates are purely for candidates testing to become ascenders?”

  “It’s more like they’re just for normal civilians to gaze upon the majesty of us ascenders,” Alaric said with a wink. “Come on. The area for testing is this way.”

  Walking through the marble-floored building reminded me of some of the nicer Adventurers Guild Halls back in Dicathen, except it was much larger and had a much wider array of accommodations. I saw weapon and armor polishing services, meeting rooms for strategizing, resting pods filled with high concentrations of mana for faster healing, and even large training rooms that teams could rent out. It was an all-inclusive facility that you could spend days in.

  Alaric took his time going through the different sorts of facilities that every ascender building offered… for a fee, of course. This was, once again, a cold reminder of how much more developed Alacrya was compared to Dicathen.

  “How are these training rooms able to take the strain of mages fighting inside here?” I asked, watching a team of ascenders leaving one of the private training rooms dripping in sweat.

  Alaric knocked on the solid metal wall of the training room. “The Instillers that work on the ascender buildings are top class, and the metal making up these rooms are special alloys only found in northern mountains of Truacia.”

  ‘Instillers are basically enchanters specializing in enhancing objects with their mana,’ Regis clarified for me.

  After a leisurely walk through the ascender building, we arrived in the area designated for helping ascender candidates. Like the other areas within the facility, the large circular waiting room was filled with mages.

  Aside from a few nervous applicants that wore regular clothing, most of the mages present were wearing militaristic uniforms of varying designs, colors, and cuts. Several older mages, garbed in more traditional robes, were walking around and talking to some of the uniformed mages.

  “Most applicants come from academies, hence the reason why so many of them look like they have a stick up their ass,” Alaric whispered distastefully. “Unfortunately for you, most ascenders look down on the ‘unschooled’ as they say. It might be hard for you to attract a party, so do decently well—but not too w
ell.”

  I frowned. “What is ‘decently well’ supposed to be?”

  “Just follow their instructions,” the drunkard said dismissively, picking his ear. “They’ll tell you what you need to do to pass.”

  The two of us took a seat near the far end of the circular waiting area after Alaric signed me up for a practical skills assessment.

  “Damn, I really need a flask,” Alaric muttered, struggling to drink alcohol while hiding it within his suit jacket.

  “What you need is help,” I retorted.

  “Thank you for caring so much about your uncle’s health, dearest nephew,” Alaric said, holding a particular finger up on the hand that was holding his bottle.

  With nothing better to do while we waited, I closed my eyes and visualized the realm within the keystone. By now, I had accessed the relic so many times that I could imagine the kaleidoscopic space clearly enough to simulate previous attempts and try learning from them.

  ‘Check it out. Some of the girls are checking you out,’ Regis commented with a lecherous giggle.

  Are you twelve? I shot back, not bothering to open my eyes.

  ‘Technically, I’m not even one,’ my companion argued. ‘But that’s not the point. Some of them are pretty cute.’

  How do you even know what cute is? I asked.

  ‘I’m made from you, remember?’ Regis reminded me. ‘So technically, my interpretation of cute is actually your interpretation of cute.’

  Curiosity getting the best of me, I opened my eyes just enough to make out a trio of girls a few rows in front of me, who quickly turned away, giggling amongst themselves. That’s when I also noticed a powerfully built young man, whose uniform was having a hard time containing his muscles, glaring at me not far away.

  “Are you trying to drill a hole into the boy with your gaze?” Alaric snapped, apparently having noticed my stare-down with the powerfully-built student. “Come on. You’re up next.”

  I followed the old man down the aisle, and a thin clerk guided us through a narrow hallway leading to another, smaller circular room.