Chapter 20

Itzal Verdi opened the tavern door. He could no longer tell whether the noise from the street was greater than what came from within. The jingling of chimes over the clamour drew the attention of one of the waitresses, who came forward to greet him.

“Welcome,” she looked up at him with a smile. “Will it be the usual, mister?”

He nodded slightly in response, and the waitress left to prepare his table. Inwardly, he was amused: this very same serving girl was giving him the most vehement glares when he first came to the city.

It was to be expected, he supposed. His first few weeks in E-Rantel consisted of him frequenting the merchant inn’s tavern on a daily basis, but, due to his limited coin, he had loitered in the empty space for hours with nothing but a cup of water. Now, with his stipend from the Adventurer Guild, he was provided ample funding to room here, as well as order a day’s worth of full meals from the kitchen.

The empty state of the inn, too, had drastically changed. It had transformed from the barely frequented establishment of early spring to one filled with merchants and their hired men. The inn was near full occupancy and its tavern was bustling; employees rushing about to keep up with their patrons. A constant murmur drifting through the light haze, the press of bodies, and the sound of a Bard performing from an unseen corner made it difficult to believe that the warm and cosy atmosphere was cold and sterile not long ago.

The serving girl returned with a hesitant look on her face, and Itzal frowned at her uncharacteristic expression.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Your table…someone’s there,” she answered. “They say they know you, but I’ve never seen ‘em before.”

Itzal’s gaze reflexively turned in the direction of his usual seat, but he couldn’t see across the crowded floor. His mind worked through the possibilities as he waded through the patrons, and a sudden thrill of anticipation ran up his spine when he saw the two figures seated there. He nodded once more to the serving girl to send her on her way before taking a polished, wooden chair.

The man seated across from him was a familiar sight from times past, sporting a head of closely-cropped black hair and a roughly-shaven jaw. The plain-faced brunette beside him was entirely unfamiliar, but the light and conservative style of her garb suggested that she, too, was from the south.

“Going up in the world, I see,” the man noted as he performed a gesture with his right hand.

Following the man’s gaze to his chest, Itzal’s fingers touched the gold tag clasped around his neck. He had stayed on with the Adventurer Guild to learn what the Sorcerous Kingdom was up to there, and the stipend provided to a Gold-rank was roughly equivalent to the wage of a master craftsman. Compared to eking out an uncertain living as a mercenary, it certainly was a step up.

“This is–” Itzal cut off his reply when the woman leaned close to the man and whispered something into his ear.

“She says that your Adventurer tag has an enchantment on it,” the man answered Itzal’s unspoken question. “You’re being tracked.”

“What!” Itzal said sharply.

He cringed at the sound of his own voice and looked around to see if he had drawn any attention to himself. Turning a pleading gaze back to the man, he struggled to find words to defend himself.

“Relax,” the man said with an easygoing air. “We’re not accusing you of anything. This practice is not unknown to us: we, too, use it to track our own people and, should misfortune befall them, recover their remains.”

“We…?” Itzal frowned, then shifted his attention to the third member at the table, “Who is this woman?”

“For the duration of this assignment,” the man replied, “she is also your superior. Considering the state of things here, I thought it prudent to call in someone from one of the other branches.”

Itzal nodded. Through his long history working with the man, he knew him to be from the Windflower Scripture, which operated passively for the most part: overseeing and traversing the information networks throughout the regions surrounding the Theocracy. If it was another branch with functions related to the gathering of intelligence, then this woman should be from the Clearwater Scripture. He knew next to nothing about it beyond scarce mentions in passing, however.

“Call in…wait, how long have you been here for?” Itzal asked, “I room at this inn, and you’ve only appeared now?”

“I actually departed the Theocracy a few months ago,” he replied. “Just inside the border, however, I was involved in an…unfortunate incident, and was captured by the authorities.”

“No! What...what did they do to you? Are you alright?”

“Fortunately, the noble involved spoke in my defence, so I was let off with a fine for property damage,” he laughed in a helpless sort of way. “My purse became quite light after I was released. The other reason our new friend is here is to detect if anyone has been subjected to compromising spells or abilities, starting with myself.”

Itzal nodded slowly at his account. If another agent was required from the south, the entire process would probably take that long, given deliberations and travel time.

“Is it safe to say all this in a busy tavern?” He asked.

“It is not a concern,” the man replied. “Our friend here is a Cleric and has warded our table with an enchantment that renders us beneath notice. If we do not call any attention to ourselves on purpose, no one will pay any attention to us.”

“I see…then what’s our mission here? You’ve been here long enough to see what’s going on – what will the Theocracy do?”

The serving girl appeared at Itzal’s side, placing the hearty meal he usually ordered before him. She walked away without a word, even while the man across from him spoke.

“Our mission is as it always has been: to collect information and send anything useful on its way. Our friend will render magical assistance if the situation calls for it, and see to her own duties. All of the agents here will assist her if she requires it. As for our superiors: they will do what they deem necessary, using what information they have.”

“It’s hard to believe that it’s business as usual seeing everything that has happened here…”

“Yet that is what it is, and its importance is even more so seeing everything that has happened here. It is clearly not Re-Estize anymore: things are moving too fast, and there is too much that is not understood. The people at home can barely make heads or tails of what is going on, so what we report is of great interest – and urgency. You understand this, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Itzal straightened in his chair. “What would you have us do?”

“A few of the others have already come by,” the man said, “and they appear to be well-positioned. By their tellings, you have fallen in with these ‘new Adventurers’, which is good. Come – enjoy your meal before it grows cold, and regale us with your tales.”

Itzal felt uncomfortable being the only one partaking at the table, but he did as he was instructed. He started from the beginning, about the state of the E-Rantel when he arrived, its gradual recovery and the suspicions which he held about Human collaboration in the Sorcerous Kingdom. He related Guildmaster Ainzach’s call to his members and the divisive result. They stopped him on several points to question or have him elaborate on his observations.

“This training is not too dissimilar to what is practised in other nations with similar means,” the man said, “save for the continual restructuring of the entire facility by this Dark Elf Druid. The degree of challenge and authenticity is greater than most can afford as well since they appear to be able to use resurrection magic on a whim…tell me, have you ever fought against Humans in this training?”

The question made Itzal realize that, in all of his sessions, he had never done so. Not directly, at least. As a Rogue, he did participate in laying down challenging sequences of traps for other parties to face, but, beyond that, all he had fought were various types of Demihumans and summons that were conjured by unseen casters. A thought came to him.

“They do not pit Humans against Humans, but if you consider it in reverse, they are pitting inhuman creatures against Humans. Ogres, Trolls, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Lizardmen, the controllers of the summons…while we train against them, they are training against us. Everything we do is being observed by the proctors assessing our performance as well – who knows who else may be watching?”

The two Scripture members exchanged looks.

“The Sorcerous Kingdom has forces walking about openly in the streets that far outstrip the Adventurers that we have seen,” the man told him, “so we consider Demihumans being used directly against Humans in such a manner unlikely. The observation of Human capabilities is a valid point, however. You say their claim is that the Adventurer Guild is supposed to be an…expeditionary force for the Sorcerous Kingdom – their purpose: to explore the unknown. All we’ve heard is this endless training, however. Is there any inkling of these ‘expeditions’ being enacted soon?”

Itzal straightened in his seat, taking a swallow from the chilled ale set beside his meal. Considering the timing, it seemed a leading question…well, no matter – it was something he would normally be reporting, anyways.

“A training expedition has been organized,” he told them. “In a forest to the southwest – south of the newly-reorganized Völkchenheim County.”

“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow, “Have they shared any information about it with their members?”

“I’ve been selected as one of the participants,” Itzal replied, “but in-depth information beyond our loose roles is absent. We’re to go in blind, establish a camp and perform functions that are, on the surface, in line with the ‘mandate’ of the new Adventurer Guild. Our general orders appear to mostly revolve around mapping, surveying, and collecting samples of interest to be sent for analysis back in the city. Since this exercise is being conducted within the borders of the Sorcerous Kingdom, it has the feel of casual reconnaissance, with no chance of encountering what might be considered foreign elements.”

“Hm…so you have not directly noticed anything that points to underlying motives or thinking, though you suspect that there is more to these ‘expeditions’?”

“I believe it to be highly likely,” Itzal nodded. “As you say, the strength of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead armies is more than adequate for any overt military actions, and the mandate of their new Adventurer Guild serves a complementary role. I would hardly be surprised if their ‘expeditions’ were simply the precursor to invasion – used to identify key territory; the information gained through their unassuming façade employed to plot a nation’s demise.”

“I see,” the man said. “Well, what actions they ultimately take on these so-called expeditions will make clear the true purpose of this organization. Again, it is good that you have positioned yourself for the future – I know that it is not exactly the way of things you are used to, so it is to be especially lauded.”

Itzal felt a rare warmth creeping out from within. Such appreciation was mostly unheard of in his career as an informant, and recognition from his superiors that he had gone out his way to prove himself useful was extremely gratifying. He focused on his meal for a few moments in order to keep the openly pleased expression off of his face.

“Speaking of which,” the man continued. “Have you been able to make any inroads at all in the usual ways? I am not expecting much, I assure you – they seem to have replaced the impoverished with the savage.”

“You have the right of it,” Itzal nodded. “Things are practised much differently outside of the slums. The usual means are far less available, and those that are available are far more expensive. I would wager those of us working within trade guilds and merchant companies will be far more effective in the current circumstances.”

“And you would win that wager,” the man smirked. “We have several dozen agents in the nearby region from our usual movements, but I have sent word for more. Soon we will have quite a number from all places that send their trade through here. The Sorcerous Kingdom has opened their borders to all merchants, and even wayfarers who simply seek to learn more of the new nation. They have even claimed that they do not mind spies – though I am not entirely sure if this was made in jest.”

“…is it safe to concentrate our agents here?” Itzal frowned. “As expansive as our operations are, losing so many at once will still take time to recover fully.”

“I cannot see how the Sorcerous Kingdom could detect ours specifically,” the man shrugged, “they would be a few amongst many. You have most likely seen them yourself: agents from the Empire, Karnassus and beyond. I have even seen what I am pretty sure are Dwarf spies – their nation is outwardly friendly to this one, but suspicions regarding such a monstrous friend are sure to linger.”

Itzal grunted in silent agreement as the man spoke and he continued eating. Re-Estize was the edge of nowhere when it came to the world; no one treated the nation of unsophisticated and primitive people with any real interest aside from the merchants and criminals who could exploit their backwards state.

The appearance of the Sorcerous Kingdom was a shock to many who received the news in the surrounding regions; as any such nation led by an Undead sovereign would naturally be perceived as a dire threat, and an enemy to all. Opening their borders to trade and travel was an invitation of sorts to any that desired information. Given the outward appearance that they had chosen to take, the Sorcerer King was attempting to lull everyone into complacency.

“Then I’m to continue with the Adventurer Guild,” Itzal said after washing down the last of his supper. “Is there anything that you’re aware of that I should keep an eye out for?”

“You would know better than I,” the man said. “No one else has entered the new organization. Establishing yourself as a ready ear and shoulder should provide us with a wealth of information, given the loose-lipped nature of Adventurers. Working your way further up their ranks and…well, this is all common sense.”

“Magic items,” the woman spoke to him for the first time.

Itzal looked askance to the man, who returned an unknowing look and a shrug.

“A portion of my own assignment,” her hazel eyes pulled his own back towards her, “it is of the utmost importance. You said that in addition to a government stipend for the Adventurers, they also have an…exchange of sorts for equipment and other items. If you notice any items of rare potency – those that should not be available through local artifice or regional commerce – attempt to obtain them through legitimate means.”

“That sounds like something I’ll be doing anyways,” Itzal replied, “so it shouldn’t be a problem as long as it’s a justifiable purchase. If I pick up something I can’t use, that’s sure to raise eyebrows.”

The intensity of the woman’s gaze lessened, and she let out a small sigh.

“Of course,” she said. “You will forgive me for my insistence, it was just too crucial a matter to idly mention. Even if you are unable to personally possess them, a report of their existence would still help.”

“Is it possible to share why this is so important?” Itzal asked.

“A part of it,” she answered. “I have been explicitly instructed to monitor the city for powerful items, and examine them if I have the opportunity to. I cannot do so illegally, as it would cut my time short here, so you are a promising source given the relationship this new Adventurer Guild shares with the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“What happens if you find what you’re looking for?”

“I cannot say, exactly, but word will be sent back immediately if I do – it is for my superiors to decide.”

Itzal’s breath stopped when he considered who Scripture members ultimately reported to. A weighty task had been shared with him: one that was considered a priority to even a Cardinal of the Slane Theocracy.

“I-is there anything else I should know?”

“Not regarding this matter, but I received a message from home just before you arrived. It is not a mission for us, per se, but everyone should be made aware and act in accordance.”

The man shifted in his seat to face her – apparently, it was the first he had heard of this as well.

“As you should already know,” she said, “the Theocracy has adopted a neutral stance regarding the Sorcerous Kingdom upon learning the result of the Battle of Katze Plains. Since we are not in open hostilities, the local Bishop has been petitioning regularly for assistance with the Temple’s work here. The faith of The Six grows in the Sorcerous Kingdom, and there are not enough staff to keep up with everything despite their best efforts.”

“Surely they are not considering sending temple staff here,” the man scoffed.

“For nearly two months,” she replied, “the Bishop was met with flat refusal. Then…he resorted to Temple Law. The Temples of the Six Great Gods – even the Cardinals themselves – cannot refuse him in this. Not outright, at least; word of his plight has spread across the Theocracy.”

Itzal furrowed his brow. He was a simple man who only knew rough ways, so he had no idea of any of this.

“What law is this?” The man asked grimly, “You…you cannot mean…no…”

“Yes,” the woman let out a resigned laugh. “In their hesitation to provide support to the Bishop of E-Rantel, the worst possible option has been forced upon them.”

“Ai…” The man groaned, bringing a hand up to his forehead, “This…this is crazy! Does the Bishop wish for war? Surely they counselled him against such a rash request?”

“I asked just the same when I received the information – my contact said that he remained adamant. That being said, the case the Bishop presented must have been extraordinarily compelling: there would not be such a problem otherwise.”

The man turned back to the table and leaned forward, holding his face in his hands and taking a deep breath.

“I-I’m sorry,” Itzal spoke into the silence between them, “but I don’t understand. What happened, exactly?”

“There is a certain ordinance,” the woman turned to address him with her rueful smile. “A codified section of Temple Law that has stood for centuries. Every institution of the faith – every shrine, monastery, temple, cathedral, hospital, school and university – is due a portion of the faith militant according to the population that they serve. Its purpose is to assist in maintaining order, and to defend against those who would dare to strike directly against our priesthood and their faithful.”

“But our Temples are not under threat of violence here,” Itzal replied in confusion. “Not now, nor when they were a part of Re-Estize. Why did the Bishop call for this kind of help when he has never needed it?”

“With greater congregations, there is the need to maintain order still…but, going by the nature of the Bishop’s requests since he started sending them, he intends to use the faith militant as a stand-in for the priesthood in local ministry.”

Itzal’s confusion only grew. What did armed men have to do with the work of the priesthood?

“Itzal, my old friend,” the man leaned back on his chair, smiling slightly over his confusion. “These are not the faith militant that you’re thinking of – not the strongmen who volunteer to keep brats and ruffians from misbehaving during temple service in these backwards lands. She speaks of the faith militant of the Theocracy: raised since childhood according to the tenets of our religion, both proven in battle and well-versed in the ministry – she speaks of the Paladin Orders.”

“What!” Itzal shot to his feet with a confounded noise.

His chair tipped over and fell to the ground with a clatter. Itzal ducked his head at the noise and looked around, but it appeared that the spell cast over them worked even for his abrupt outburst. He righted the piece of fallen furniture and sat back down before continuing heatedly.

“He’s right – this is crazy! How…no. They cannot come here, it will be a disaster: instead of serving the faithful, they will get them all killed! You must tell them this, you must…”

The man shot him a look, and Itzal stilled his tongue – he had overstepped his bounds. The woman showed no sign of anger at his behaviour, instead speaking in a mollifying tone.

“Seeing that a decision of this magnitude must pass through the High Council,” the woman said, “you may rest assured that what is allowed has been the result of purposeful calculation. They are not heedless and ignorant aristocrats that would make such careless decisions. The various Paladin Orders around the Theocracy have been carefully preparing since the Temple acquiesced. It is their hope that if they send the more seasoned and well-travelled of their number, the…reaction will not be as extreme as it would normally be. Bear in mind that I have passed this information on to emphasize how crucial our work here has become: the more we know, the less likely anyone is to trip over anything that could trigger a mishap.”

“...how many, then?” Itzal wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer.

“The ordinance states one of the faith militant for every thousand faithful.”

He sifted through his mind for a rough number, but he wasn’t sure if it was correct. One thing for certain was that the faith of The Six was reclaiming the population at a gradual, yet seemingly inevitable, pace, and the figure he finally came up with was too many mishaps waiting to happen every day.

“You…” he grasped at a straw in this seemingly suicidal decision, “you said they did not agree outright…”

“That is correct,” she nodded. “In the end, they agreed that half would be sent at first, then the remainder if no problems arise.”

“Half…but that’s still–”

“Thirty-Six Paladins,” she answered for him, “elite members of the Orders who qualify for Temple duties. The arrangements are still underway, but make no mistake: they will appear sooner or later. We must do what we can to pave the way for their arrival.”