Arc 07: The moment of respite

Chapter 049: Answers

Shopping was the first thing we did after visiting the city. It was the last shopping in a while, though. We managed to buy what we came for (mostly the magitek addons to the main cave), but we pretty much went broke after it.

Our permanent problems with money were something I kinda got used to. As Napoleon said, to wage war you need three things. Money, money and money. Everything we actually managed to earn, we almost immediately spent on something. Ugh. Something urgent, no less.

At least there was a visible progress in our war. This made it all worthy. Or at least sufferable.

What next? Oh, right, Grandma.

***

In the end only me and Simea came to have a talk with Grandma. The rest… the rest weren’t exactly comfortable with entering the slums. Can’t blame them, really. That particular area was under watch of Grandma’s goons. The chances for us to get stabbed were pretty close to nil so we didn’t need everyone to follow us.

Besides, they also needed some free time for themselves. Even in a city they personally disliked. If only for the sake of remaining sane. For me, the brief sort of date with Simea (more like a raid on confectionaries really) work well when it came to stress management. We did this on the way to the slums.

Wonderful ending of a date. A visit in the slums. I’m awful in this, right. I can’t help it, I lack experience.

***

It wasn’t hard to get a meeting with Grandma. I’m almost sure that she wants to cultivate our relationship, just in case. Having a group of adventurers on friendly terms with you is certainly useful.

I’m not exactly happy about being used, but I already accepted that most people around me at least tried to do that.

“Well, look who decided to visit me.” Grandma didn’t change from our last visit at all. If you excluded her still pretty face she looked and acted like typical elder. I could almost picture her with a cane, or while guarding her grandchildren during their parent’s absence. “Let me guess, you want something from me.”

“Now that’s cold. Couldn’t I simply have missed the place?” I smiled. “That aside, while we were coming to pay this place a visit I suddenly come to think that there are one or two things I would like to find out. And decided that you might be the best person to ask.”

“And why is that?” Now, how should I trick her into spilling the truth? If my suspicions were close to the truth, it probably wasn’t going to be easy.

“Well, you did turn out to have some knowledge about magic. You deciphered the scrolls we found. The things I want to ask about are connected to magic as well.”

“Oh, I do have some knowledge. When people get older they often pick up scraps and bits of knowledge along the way.” Riight. And you learned like two thaumaturgical languages completely by accident. As my father once said, lying we but not us.

It sounded better in the native language, I guess. Where did I started to even think in aevarian?!

There were three ideas I had for her real identity. First and most possible - a magician in hiding. There were enough of them going renegade for it to be a real problem. There was a reason why every country worth that term had some groups and organisations dedicated to watching over magicians. It worked. In most cases, as Bloodletter showed.

The second, and much more… extreme option would be her being an archmagician. I wouldn’t count on that though. Archmages were rare and powerful. There were two of them in Ambryxis. Called Black Hand and Sapphire. Each of them in terms of power was probably right behind Ambryxis himself and the local Dungeon Lords.

To become an archmage you had to undergo a painful and dangerous procedure of partial daemonification combined with binding your soul to your body. While it was REALLY painful and dangerous, it elevated your magical power to normally impossible levels, prolonged your life and made you… resilient. To surely kill an archmage you had to decapitate him, burn the body and then scatter the dusts just in case.

I saw an archmagician boss in WR casting spells unhindered with broken neck, chopped off and bleeding arm and 90% of his skin burned by magic fire. I did a quest connected to another archmagician that was dismembered into twenty pieces and scattered around. The head was still conscious and the magician himself returned back to life after you assembled him. They weren’t normal mortals anymore.

Too bad they were the most common sources of magocracies. The Decemvirate-ruling Supreme Council was composed of ten archmages. Their fate after the country fell wasn’t pleasant. The fate of those who dared to oppose them earlier wasn’t either.

The third and definitely most crazy theory was that she was the Featherclad. The archdaemon who assaulted the city and caused the area to devolve into slums. I had to be drunk when I thought about it. Well, theoretically many archdaemons were shapeshifters and they never found the body, so…

It also connected with the second theory. There were two archmagicians in the city at that time, Black Hand and Firewing. The latter was a woman, supposedly an elf and it was presumed that Featherclad killed her. But they never found the body. Or at least any parts of it big enough to be used to identify it. Black Hand seemed to hate her though and most information regarding Firewing disappeared after the Featherclad was slain.

“You picked up some knowledge… including a great prowess in several thaumaturgical language.” I said. “Well, sounds unlikely but I’m not sure if that’s my problem.” IT IS, I’M CURIOUS. “Suit your…”

Simea suddenly gave me a powerful side jab.

“Wh…"

Do you always have to act like that?" What?! “I’ll ask it directly, because watching this is tiring.” She turned towards Grandma. “Are you perhaps a magician? Having access to one that isn’t under witch-hunter surveillance could be useful to us. “

…

“Well, I guess you could call me a magician.” What?! It worked?! “Don’t look at me like that. I’m only telling you that because of Ytar. Average person would have sold him to witch-hunters. Instead, you are helping him. I doubt you’ll rat me out to witch-hunters.”

… Okay. Simea is totally going to laugh my ass off after we leave. Ugh. But at least it worked.

“We don’t really like witch-hunters to begin with. And sorry for him, he is sometimes too smart for his own good.” Simea said. Triggering another bout of internal depression in me.

“It’s a good idea to be cautious.” Grandma smiled. “Your boyfriend is right. But it is also a nice feeling to run into some genuine honesty once in a while.”

“He is not my b..boyfriend.” Simea stuttered.

“Well, you two would make such a nice pair.” Grandma misunderstood or just wanted to tease us.

“Having a girlfriend would be nice.” I decided to join the teasing. “But my wife might have misunderstood. Even if the both of them would be the same person.” Simea blushed a bit, obviously not used to being called a wife in public.

“Oh, the youngsters these days.” Grandma shook her head when she finally caught my meaning.”They keep getting married and having children earlier and earlier.”

Dreadful. Especially here. There was no law that regulated how early one could get married and consummate the marriage in Ambryxis. Or have sex and be in relationships in general. Sometimes it was exploited too much for my taste. It wasn’t easy to steer clear of all squicky things around.

“I have a question.” Grandma turned her head towards me. “What were you suspecting me of being?”

Ugh.

“A magician.” Well, no need of hiding it. “Or, in a rather impossible variant, either Firewing or Featherclad.” She chuckled.

“Featherclad is dead. And Firewing was a fire elf. You know, those halfdaemons with perpetually burning hair. Both of them aren’t around. Black Hand made sure of that.” Did she meant… “If you plan to act against the city, beware of him.”

“I thought he was mostly inactive.” Her knowledge about events during the Featherclad assault seemed awfully… detailed. ”And Sapphire was a part of Masked Council responsible for magical affair.”

“Black Hand would never relinquish so much power. He is… ambitious. Amoral. And powerful.” Are you trying to tell me she knows person of such a high standing?! Maybe even personally?! “Sapphire is merely a useful facade for him.”

There was… an awfully lot of venom in her voice. It was personal. So much hatred. If she wasn’t Firewing...

Interesting. For now, let’s stick to the version that she was a magician somehow connected to Firewing. If that archmage truly died because of Black Hand… that would explain the venom. And her hiding in the slums.

Well, interesting doesn’t mean “directly useful”.

“Alright. Excuse the old lady and her ramblings. Show me what you have for me.”

***

Positive side effect of being imprisoned in a fantasy videogame was that explaining the situation (even roughly) to locals was quite easy. Sure, there was still a disbelief, but they rarely tried to argue with you or search for explanation after you showed them the proof and said that it was the work of Gods.

Technically it could be truth.

After we showed Grandma the status window and explained more or less how it worked, she was visibly surpri… ok, shocked. But she quickly recuperated and acknowledged the unexplainable weirdness in front of her.

Then we could move over to first stop of this journey.

“You… made this ‘photo’ while she stood atop you with a knife?” Grandma was obviously surprised by the photo of the Overkill. “That’s… brave. Or stupid.”

“I told you, I can’t die.” I reminded her. “This really helps you fight against your fear.”

“Oh, right. I would really like to see that, this could be… alright, back to the topic.” She looked for a longer while at the Overkill’s mask. “So, who is it?”

“Overkill.” I answered. She shook her head.

“He doesn’t exist. It’s just a story.”

“Well, that ‘story’ almost stabbed me with a knife.” I answered. “The Appraisal showed me his name and actually wrote a short summary about killing killers in the description. It was, without a doubt, the Overkill. I even got a quest about discovering the truth about her.”

She looked at me like… well, I imagine that’s how average American would react to a person claiming that Bigfoot visited his ranch for a tea and cookies. Even inhabitants of a fantasy world had limits to their imagination.

“Is it possible that this system… recycles the knowledge you already have? And described the killer you encountered as Overkill simply because you heard about him earlier?”

Hmm.

“Interesting theory, but I didn’t know that the victim was a serial killer until Overkill directed me to the lair where this innkeeper butchered people. Which also indicated she knew the truth about the victim.”

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “I know that popular concepts can manifest in the form of a daemon. But they need a lot of power to be able to visit the Light. Most people doesn’t believe in Overkill, it’s just a story.”

“It’s almost surely not a daemon.” I added. “The system hid the truth about its nature, so I think that it isn’t straightforward and, in fact, is something important. Something for us to discover.”

“Also…” Simea spoke. “It’s possible that witch-hunters or city militia actively suppress the rumors. Especially the latter, since Overkill’s existence would put them in bad light.” Does she speak from experience? There were a lot of vigilantes running around the USA during the first years after Crash. And even more revolutionaries and lynch mobs. “Is it possible that they simply hide the truth and claim to be the ones who eliminate the killer?”

“Now that you say that…” Grandma said slowly. “There were five notorious killers this year… and I think that any of them acted for long. They were caught quite quickly. Four of them died by the militia’s hand.”

“And the fifth?” Simea got curious. I, in the same time, decided to avoid commenting on the fact that there were five notorious serial killers in this year alone. And we were only a few days after autumn solstice. And there were probably less notorious killers as well.

Damn cesspool of civilization.

“Crusher. Stalked the alleyways with a mace and mauled homeless and unfortunate passersby to death.” Ugh. “Supposedly a spoiled kid of a rich merchant. According to militia he got lynched by some to-be-victims and beaten to death. They tossed the body besides a fountain at a market and fled.”

“Was it the last killer?” Grandma nodded. Simea continued with a look of triumph on her face. “Overkill mauled him like he mauled his victims. And then dropped him somewhere where the militia couldn’t cover it up.”

“And the innkeeper?” I wasn’t sure about that.

“Imagine what would happen if people woke up in the morning and found his partially eaten body downstairs.” She said. “And if the Overkill left the door to the butchery open. She could even leave the body near it and leave signs of struggle everywhere so that people would run into it. I mean, nobody could believe that a ‘to-be-victim’ literally ate the cannibal, right?”

…

“You… might be right.” I said. Grandma nodded. “This makes sense. Are you a detective now?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Call me Holmes.” Heh.

“I might not know who this Holmes is…” Grandma interrupted us. “But I think I can say a thing or two about the mask.” Oh?

“What exactly?”

“That this is neither the thaumaturgic vassyrian, nor the khardic liturgical language of the Holy Kingdom. And no, Shining Accord is most likely out of the question as well, since they use the same language.”

Holy Kingdom of Vasyrria was a khardic country in the southern coast of Imperium-held part of Aevaria. Strong enough to be a regional player, but not enough to be considered a first league member (like Vala Kasythia or Kilnathi) in the East. Shining Accord Confederacy was a mostly tribal union under its patronate, where the khardism spread fast pushing back local polytheisms.

“The khardic priest we consulted suggested that this might be an old form of vassyrian.” She looked at me strangely.

“You found a khardic priest in Ambryxis? And made him speak? How’s that even possible?” No fear, no panic, no terror. It seemed like a pleasant surprise to her.

“Oh, it was easy. We asked a person I know to ask him for us. He was more than happy to help a Chosen One of Overtyrant.”

Grandma’s face showed a serious case of shock. Simea was shocked as well. Sigh.

“Now we are equal.” I told the low elf. “I know a secret about you that guarantees becoming a target of witch-hunters attention. And you know a similar secret of mine. Both sides are likely going to divulge all their secrets to the witch-hunters during the interrogation, and they do not really understand the concept of a Crown witness. Nothing better than a mutually assured destruction to keep things civil.”

After all, if witch-hunters found her they would also find us and ask us why we didn’t report her. We were already connected. If anything, I prefer this connection strong.

The witch-hunters policy was retarded but I wasn’t going to complain. They seemed to grow more and more brutal over the past years, at least that’s what I thought after reading through history books. Sure, the increased activity of Pentagram, other Beyond-powers and (as I recently discovered) various monotheistic faiths justified it… to a point.

And witch-hunters went beyond that point a while ago now. And kept charging forward.

“A Chosen of Overtyrant…” Grandma seemed deep in thought. “I can’t say I’ll miss the current rulers of the city. Times are going to be interesting.”

“Also, of Malice.” She looked at me questioningly. “There is also a Chosen One of Malice running around. Witch-hunters are trying to cover it up. But I was the one to report it to them after running into her, so…” I mean, I could as well tell her that much.

“Two Chosen Ones. Of Malice and Overtyrant.” She went silent. “I’m beginning to think about moving to another city. By the way, aren’t you afraid about telling me all that? If I know someone amongst witch-hunters, I could probably avoid becoming a collateral if I tell them truth anonymously.”

“I can avoid the collateral as well, unless I’m caught redhanded murdering members of the Masked Council or something like that.” Another questioning look. “Perks of being a Chosen One of Deviation.” They don’t need to know she tricked me into accepting her Blessing, right? Which was an important factor behind me telling her truth about a Chosen of Overtyrant being around. My position was better than hers, after all.

“I really need to drink.” She sighed. “Alright, back to the subject again. Your priest is wrong, but only partially. It truly is connected to the vasyrrian language and it predates it… but it’s not its old form. It’s an old form of sakarian language, probably thaumaturgic.”

“Sakarian?” The first time I hear that name.

“All beastmen come from the continent of Primaltia.” She said. “From there various warlords invaded other continents, including lands that later become Vasyrria. That’s also where khardism started. The beastmen’s ancient lands long ago become a Holy Empire of Sakaria, now a vassal state under Imperium. During their golden age they dispatched many generals to ‘liberate’ their brethren from the chains of Tyrants, wherever they managed to settle. Aevarian’ parts were liberated by General Vasyrria Aryvahnar during the War of Symphony she led, hence the name of the kingdom.”

“So, you mean… this mask might predate the creation of Vasyrria?!” She nodded.

“That’s why I’m almost sure it’s an artifact.” Grandma shook her head. “Nothing else could remain in one piece for a thousand of years. Especially when it’s a crude mask made from wood. But to get any knowledge of it you need a specialist in antique forms of sakarian and I doubt there is anyone like that outside of Vasyrria. If there are any on Aevaria.”

Wonderful.

“I’m almost sure that it is cursed, though.” I nodded. The priest said the same. “At least some of the runes bear some similarity to the vassyrian thaumaturgic language. The mask is definitely not something one can simply take off. But that’s pretty much everything I can tell you.”

Well, it was still more that we knew few minutes ago. Even my status acknowledged it. The quest updated, telling me to move my ass and find someone that can read ancient sakarian thaumaturgic runes.

Ugh. How am I supposed to find someone like that?! Why is that once we managed to score a miracle, everyone (including the game system) expects us to do more of them?! Like, EVERY FUCKING TIME?!

Simea brought me back to reality. With side-jabing. Followed with a single word.

“Anchor.”

Oh, right.

“In fact, there is one more thing with which I need your expertise.”

I showed her the picture of the magic… something, that we found in the Third Anchoring Station.

“Where did you find it?” She seemed… enchanted (oh, the puns) with the picture.

“In the pre-Dawn War ruins in the Black Woods.” This made her pull her eyes off the photo.

“There are ruins in the Black Woods?! Ones from before the Dawn War?!” She blinked her eyes quickly like a boxer after strong blow to the head. “I should probably get used to that, shouldn’t I?”

I chuckled.

“Well, even I am overwhelmed by the things we keep running into. Any idea what this is?”

“A very powerful magic array.” Hmm? I know that much, you know. “It’s an anchor. A very powerful anchor for VERY powerful magic. I’m not precisely sure about it’s nature, I never saw installations dating back to Old Empire that looked even remotely the same.” She went silent for a while.

I let her think for a while. She obviously had something in mind. Let’s give her time to organize it.

“Overwhelming majority of it is supposed to gather and store magic… while being used as a pillar that supports some sort of overarching magical structure.” She finally said. “There are probably more places like it, or at least there were. It being a part of an anomaly complicates the situation. In fact, it’s hard to say if said structure still stands, or if there is only one pillar left. In any case, this is a very potent energy collector. Setting it up probably cost a lot.”

“What level of power are we talking about?” I got curious.

“It depends on the overall number of pillars.” She answered quickly. “If there is merely a single one, then there is a lot of power but is still on a manageable level. If there are more… well.”

“Three.” She looked at me questioningly. “There are at least three. The system called that place a ‘Third Anchoring Station’.”

“Three pillars of this size?” She shook her head. “Warn me if you decide to blow it up. I’ll evacuate everyone to the deepest level of the sewers before you do it.”

Ouch.

“It’s THAT strong?” She simply nodded. “Great. Well, I won’t touch it then. Also, do you know the name Nyrathzm?” I mean, if I already have a person to ask questions, I could as well go to the end. Right?

“Nyrathzm… Nyrathzm… I swear I heard this name. No idea where. I would have to look through the books I took with me when I left my former… profession. It will be a while, since I hid them somewhere. Any clue?”

“Some powerful… thing. Death magic. Might be an archdaemon or an aberrant.” The former was more probable, but the Anchoring Station was weird enough for me to at least consider the other option. “According to the system suggestions it might be responsible for the creation of the Black Woods. His lackeys controlled the place in which we found the Anchor.”

“Hmm… well, we never figured out the reason for the Black Woods’ existence, so it’s certainly an interesting topic.” She said, before smiling. “Just in case, you know that connecting me to the… system, as you call it, will help me contact you with the information I find?”

Ugh. She really wants to investigate this weird magical phenomena, isn’t she?