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065 A Glimpse Behind the Curtain
🕑 Added 2022-06-08 11:06:17 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 215, Season of the Setting Moon, Day 22 –
Terry left the bathroom and entered the hallway on the first floor. He was walking back to the stairs when his mana sense picked up something that made him stop short in his tracks.
Mana distortion.
Terry glanced at the ceiling. The sensation came from one of the upper floors.
“Pay attention to what is going on around you…” Terry mumbled to himself.
I know Aunt Sigille has said that sheltered Guardians don’t live too long, but I am pretty sure there is a similar saying about nosy Guardians.
“Just looking around,” murmured Terry, and took the stairs to go up.
Terry entered the hallway on the third floor. He walked all the way to the other side and examined a door on his left.
In here… Huh, no keyhole. So much for peeking inside… On the other hand, no keyhole would mean that the door is unlocked unless there is a latch inside…
Terry concentrated on his mana sense.
The distortion feels like a dimensional gate… Why would there be a gate here? Who could even create one?
Terry tentatively placed a hand on the door handle.
I don’t sense any mana signatures inside…
Terry pressed the door handle and opened the door an inch to peek inside. Unfortunately, stacks of cardboard boxes were blocking his vision and the mana distortion was obstructed.
No one there…
Terry cautiously opened the door and walked into the room. He slowly sneaked past two rows of boxes and peeked around the corner…
Terry’s eyes opened wide when he spotted the expected dimensional gate. It was tall and wide enough for an adult person to walk through. On the floor next to it was a round item that seemed to act as an anchor for the gate.
Didn’t that Ava woman use something like that in Syn? Paired item? The range should be limited… Where does it lead?
Terry walked closer to the gate.
Did someone want to come here? Or did someone want to go there?
On the other side of the gate, Terry could see the inside of a room containing many big shelves filled with all sorts of things.
Still no mana signature…
Terry poked a finger through the gate. Afterwards, he leaned forward and looked around the room on the other side. Finally, Terry stepped through the gate.
There are a few mana signatures but further away…
Terry furrowed his brow.
The room was bigger than Terry had expected. The dimensional gate was placed close to one of the walls, which meant that the largest part of the room had not been visible from the other side of the gate.
There was a door that led to another room. The door was standing open.
I’m getting a bad feeling about this…
Terry wondered if he should turn back.
“I did not expect to run into a colleague today.” A voice rang from behind Terry’s back.
Terry barely managed to suppress a yelp and flung himself around to face the owner of the voice.
An elven man with broad shoulders and muscular arms was standing next to one of the shelves and fiddled around with a safe.
Terry was certain that the man had not been standing there a moment earlier. Then again, Terry did not sense any mana even now.
Cloaking his own mana? Terry cursed at himself for failing to take this possibility into account before.
A spell or item to confuse eyesight? Illusions? Camouflage? Invisibility?
The elven man seemed unconcerned about Terry’s presence.
“A crimson statue and a small grey book with a chalice on the binding,” said the elven man.
Some kind of riddle? Terry furrowed his brow.
“Those are what I am here for,” continued the elven man. “Unless you get in my way, I don’t care what other things you take. Knock yourself out. The bastard deserves what’s coming to him.”
“Wait…” Realization dawned on Terry and he protested: “I’m not a thief. Who are you?”
“Someone that’s busy at the moment.” The elven man did not look up from the safe. “And you could have fooled me. Appearing uninvited in another’s home seems like a strange habit for someone that is not a thief.”
Terry was wondering what he should do. On the one hand, letting a thief go about his business did not seem very Guardian-like. On the other hand, Terry had no idea what was going on.
“Now that we have the niceties out of the way, would you mind cloaking your mana?” asked the elven man while continuing to fiddle around with the safe. “The guards here are not the most perceptive, but even they would eventually notice a mana signature like yours.”
The elven man frowned and grumbled. “Whoever created this mana lock knew what they were doing. Maybe I should just take my chances and take the whole safe?”
The elven man looked up from the safe for the first time and his eyes rested on Terry, who could now also see a scar under the man’s left eye.
“Cloaking?” prompted the elven man.
“Can’t,” said Terry.
“Can’t?” The elven man raised an eyebrow and examined Terry more closely. “That’s rather unusual for a colleague. Why— Wait, are you that brat from Arcana?” The man had noticed the bag at Terry’s hip.
“This complicates things…” The man’s face contorted as if he had swallowed a fly.
Terry wondered why exactly, but interpreted that reaction as a good sign.
“You could just call off whatever you are doing here,” suggested Terry.
“Yeah, no.” The elven man frowned. “This is important.”
“I could call the guards,” said Terry.
The elven man snorted amusedly. “You really have no idea where you are. Go ahead. Be my guest.”
The elven man glanced at the safe again. “Actually… Perhaps that’s not a bad idea. There must be a trick to this lock.”
The man picked up a vase from a shelf and then hurled it into the next room.
Terry’s eyes followed the vase dazedly. With a loud noise, the vase broke into pieces.
For a moment, Terry was dumbfounded. He looked back at where the elven man had been standing, but saw nothing. Terry appeared to be alone in the room.
Crap. Assassin type again…
A guard came running at the noise and before Terry knew what had happened, he was already faced with the guard drawing his sword. The sword radiated mana.
That sword moves faster than I would have expected…
“W-wait, I can explain.” Terry dodged the incoming sword strike. “Stop!” Terry blocked one strike with his bracer and jumped back. “I’m a Guardian, I just—”
While the guard had ignored Terry’s appeals before, his attacks suddenly became even more ferocious.
Terry frowned and pulled his new sai made from septimum from his left hip. The sai could be used similar to the stiletto dagger that Terry had practiced with in the past.
The main reason for Terry’s purchase were the two curved side prongs projecting from the handle that made it possible to block and trap an opponent’s weapon.
Terry cast the Immovable Object spell and caught the guard’s sword between the transfixed sai’s main prong and side prong. Terry followed up with a septimum throwing needle he had pulled from his leg strap. He transfixed the needle in order to completely trap the man’s weapon.
Terry kicked the guard to separate him from the trapped sword.
The adrenaline was rushing into Terry’s veins and he retrieved his barrier spear.
However, before Terry got a chance to use his barrier spear, the guard’s eyes became unexpectedly lifeless, and he fell over.
A moment later, the elven man became visible once more. He held a bloody dagger in his hand.
“Neat trick,” said the elven man while glancing at the transfixed items. Afterwards, he crouched down and patted the dead guard down for items.
“Y-you—” Terry glared at the elven man. “You killed him.”
“Yup,” retorted the elven man nonchalantly. “Should I have waited until he had killed you? My bad, but that would have caused trouble for me down the line.”
“He only attacked me because of a misunderstanding that you have provoked!” Terry protested.
“You are the one with a misunderstanding.” The elven man snorted.
The elven man pulled off the guard’s boot and removed the sock. He pointed at a tattoo of a black spider on the guard’s heel. “Do you know what this means? Of course, you don’t.” He let the boot-less foot fall to the ground again. “Basically, it means that this ‘guard’ is a piece of shit. Waste of air. Scum, plain and simple. The same goes for his employer.”
The elven man snorted again. “Do you know why I do not mind showing you my face?” He pointed at the black spider again. “Because the person whom we are stealing from is not in a position to invite the authorities. If you were to approach him and confess everything, then all it would earn you is a quick death to seal your mouth shut. He may even poison your family just to wrap up loose ends.”
Terry was taken aback.
“Do you know what I was talking about with the crimson statue?” asked the elven man. “According to my sources, this mansion has a blood idol.”
Terry gulped when he heard the object’s name. A blood idol was a nefarious item that could be used to prolong a person’s life. Countless lives had to be sacrificed to create a blood idol.
Terry recalled his previous talk with the Preacher.
Exploitation of others – selfish. So much life energy wasted in the process – stupid.
“In Tiv, the deathcults that are creating blood idols are hunted down as they should be,” said the elven man. “In order to draw a clear line and decrease demand, any blood idols that are confiscated are to be destroyed. Even the possession of a blood idol is an immense crime.”
The elven man continued rummaging around in the guard’s pockets. “Problem is that there are always some old fogeys that think these laws do not apply to them. They don’t have as big a mana pool as old Castellan or the Mage Supreme. They don’t have as many available legal supplements as the Founding King and Queen. Still, they cling to life and the closer they get to death’s doorstep, the more they lose their inhibitions.”
The man’s voice oozed with disgust. “Profit from the vile deeds of others? Sure. Break some laws. No biggie. Associate with criminal organizations. Why the Wastes not? Step by step, they move closer to madness until even committing the vile deeds themselves is not out of the question. Rot like this is infectious. It spreads.”
“But that was just a guard,” interjected Terry. “He did his job. Maybe he got a family to feed? Maybe he was under a spell?”
“So what?” spat the elven man. “Do you care for the reason a beast bites? Maybe it is hungry? Maybe it has younglings to feed? Maybe it has rabies?” He spoke with a mocking tone before raising his voice: “Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter?! The critical point is: It bloody bites! When you bare your fangs, then you have entered the world of beasts.”
Terry clenched his teeth when he remembered the soldiers in Syn.
The elven man looked up for a moment to examine Terry’s expression. “You really are a spoiled brat, aren’t you? You should stay far away from the slums, politics, and society’s underbelly if you are that green behind the ears.”
“Huh…” The elven man used his dagger to cut open an inseam of the guard’s shirt. From the hidden pocket, the elven man pulled a small disk. “This should help.”
The elven man walked back to the safe. “Ahh, that explains it. A regular combination combined with a dual-combination of mana signatures. Now, I just have to pick the missing master signature…”
Terry checked his own equipment while pondering what he was supposed to do in the current situation.
It did not seem as if he was lying… and I really have no idea what is going on, but… damn it.
After a few minutes, the door from the safe sprang open and Terry could immediately sense a dense mana signature made up mostly of the blood aspect.
The elven man took a small grey book from the safe and placed it in his own breast pocket.
Afterwards, he put on some gloves and summoned a container from his storage item. He took a crimson statue shaped like a praying woman from the safe and placed it in the container.
The elven man put both the container and the gloves into his storage item. “See?” He winked at Terry. “The bastard deserves what’s coming to him.”
“Time is getting short!” A voice reached them from the dimensional gate.
Wait, isn’t that?
Terry’s eyes opened wide.
The elven man frowned at the sign of recognition in Terry’s eyes. He shrugged. “Ah well, you should understand by now that these are muddy waters.”
“I suggest we take our leave,” said the elven man with a smile. He walked to the dimensional gate.
Terry turned to see the face of the Preacher staring at him from the other side of the dimensional gate.
Kipkoi moved his gaze to the elven man. “Did you find what we were looking for?”
“Yes,” replied the elven man, and picked up the paired item from the floor.
Kipkoi heaved a sigh of relief and his facial expression became much more relaxed. “Perfect, then we can play our cards in a few moments.”
“You coming?” The elven man asked Terry. “Or do you want to wait around for more guards?”
“Terry, please.” Kipkoi gestured for Terry to step through the dimensional gate. “I will not ask why you are here, and I promise to explain the situation. You should not stay in that person’s house for longer than necessary or you will only invite trouble for yourself. Once this reception is over, I should hold some power over him, but if you stay there, I cannot assure your safety.”
Terry suspiciously eyed the Preacher and the elven man.
“Did you do anything to him, Clarence?” asked Kipkoi.
“Why?” retorted the elven man. “Should I?”
“No, absolutely not,” insisted Kipkoi with a scowl.
“I only used him as a distraction,” said Clarence. “I needed to lift a piece from one of the Black Arachnid’s people.”
“Sorry for the trouble, Terry,” said Kipkoi. “Please, we are under some time pressure here.”
Terry kept his hand on his dagger and walked through the dimensional gate.
Afterwards, Clarence tore down the dimensional gate by channeling mana into the paired items.
“Here,” said Clarence and he presented the small grey brook that had been in the safe together with the blood idol to Kipkoi.
“Clarence, please take the blood idol downstairs while I have a chat with our guest,” said Kipkoi.
“Roger that,” said Clarence.
“Wait,” interjected Terry. “What are you going to do with that thing?”
Kipkoi tilted his head. “Destroy it, of course. In fact, I want to do it publicly and before the day is over. Ideally, before the reception has ended.”
Terry raised an eyebrow.
“Go ahead, Clarence,” said Kipkoi, and Clarence made his way through the stacked boxes to leave.
“I assume you have questions, but let me try to sum it up quickly,” said Kipkoi. “That place you visited is a secret residence of one of the old nobles in this city. A noble with a terrible reputation that is well deserved. A noble with a large influence that is decidedly undeserved.”
Kipkoi stared into Terry’s eyes. “I could have informed the censors and maybe they would have taken care of it before one of his informants tipped him off. However, I am thinking of the bigger picture here.
“Destroying the blood idol is not only what the law demands, it is also what I aim to do.” Kipkoi took a deep breath. “But that is not all. This old noble is present at the reception and, if possible, I want to deal with him immediately. Destroying the blood idol publicly will demonstrate to him that I know and that I have proof. His large influence can then be put to better use. ”
Terry frowned. “Like enforcing magic restrictions?”
Kipkoi snorted in amusement. “You evidently have no idea which old noble I am talking about. His stance on magic restrictions is even harsher than mine. Although, I suspect it is for entirely different reasons. This man narcissistically indulges in the privileges that come with his noble title. Lifting magic restrictions would turn many of these privileges meaningless.”
“No.” Kipkoi shook his head. “Mostly, I am doing this to secure his influence in reestablishing army patrols in the Wasted Zone. Currently, the man is siding with the Royal Faction to deploy troops to the northeast instead.”
Kipkoi looked back to Terry. “Did you know that I grew up in a slum district in the Wasted Zone? Learning mana use and serving in the army is what allowed me to lift myself up.”
Kipkoi’s look turned almost pleading. “I understand that we do not see eye to eye on all topics, but I hope you can at least sympathize with the innocent people in the Wasted Zone. They do not deserve to suffer the full brunt of the Wastes while the Founding King is playing games no one understands in the northeast.”
“Will you really destroy the blood idol?” asked Terry.
“If everything goes right, then in a few minutes,” replied Kipkoi. “If it has not been publicly destroyed by tomorrow, I do not mind if you share all you know with everyone you know. However…”
Kipkoi paused while sending Terry a meaningful look. “I would ask you to keep this quiet otherwise. It would not help the people in the Wasted Zone to have this old noble be taken to some cushy prison. His support in reestablishing the patrols, however, would be invaluable.”
I hate politics…
Terry frowned and subconsciously shook his head. “I won’t lie.”
Kipkoi chuckled. “I am not asking you to lie. Feel free to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. I am merely asking you to carefully weigh what to emphasize about the truth in order to serve the bigger picture.”
Terry furrowed his brow.
“For example,” started Kipkoi. “You do not know where the blood idol came from. You do not know the identity of whomever possessed it. You do know that I was the one that confiscated it. Those are all perfectly acceptable truths that do not hurt the innocent folks in the Wasted Zone.”
Terry recalled the twisted version of events after the battle in Syn City and how people praised the Devout Division for taking care of the big horde near the Bulwark.
Is that what Aunt Sigille and Matteo meant with the Preacher’s ‘style’? Telling truths to convey a lie?
Terry’s frown deepened.
“Anyway, I can only appeal to your conscience and sympathy for the innocent wasters that require assistance,” said Kipkoi. “I will prepare and announce the idol’s planned destruction now. You should join your aunt again.”
“If Lady Sigille has checked your Guardian signal, she may have become worried.” Kipkoi smiled charmingly. “I do not like to worry my guests.”
Kipkoi left the room without looking back.
Terry remained still for some time, with only stacks of boxes and his conscience as company.
***
“Next time, I expect you to signal me before you walk into a dimensional gate.” Sigille reprimanded Terry. “Not only for your sake but also for mine. That sounded way more interesting than standing around in a hallway.”
Terry snickered at the reaction from his aunt.
Both of them were currently watching the destruction of the blood idol. The Preacher had made a public spectacle out of it as entertainment for the guests. The spectacle was accompanied by what can only be described as a sermon.
“I think I have an idea, which old noble we are talking about,” murmured Sigille while moving her eyes over the guests and their reactions.
“Hmph.” Sigille frowned. “While I dislike the idea of the Preacher gaining even more influence, the Preacher did not misrepresent that person’s positions.” She shrugged. “And I also hate meddling in politics. I prefer a hammer from the front to a dagger in my back. So…”
Sigille glanced at Terry. “The Black Arachnid, the Preacher, that old noble… Clarence, was it? ‘Muddy waters’ indeed. Up to you, but I would stay out of it. Let them fight among themselves.”
She clicked her tongue. “If it escalates, then we can still tip off a censor. That would mean that you will be called as a witness and won’t be able to keep your name from the records with whatever trouble that entails. Up to you, but if I were you, I would stay out of it for now.”
Terry shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not from here, anyway.”
“Also, I would recommend you stick to normal mission work,” said Sigille with a grin. “You seem to attract more trouble than the average person when attending social gatherings.”
Terry snorted.
“While we’re on the subject, the time to fulfill your mission quota will come soon,” said Sigille. “Are you sure that you want to focus on hunting aspect beings? There may not be much opportunity to apply that knowledge in Arcana.”
Terry nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. The fact that I would not have the same opportunity in Arcana is exactly why. I have already gained some experience in fighting mana cursed with the ghouls and the hordes, but I never had to face aspect beings before.”
“Very well, it is good to be clear on what you want,” said Sigille. “How about finding a group?”
Terry grimaced. “Is it really impossible for me to team up with Tara?”
“Afraid so,” said Sigille. “Practically all of my personal disciples suffer from external control impairments. It is generally not advisable to face aspect beings without being capable of discharges. While Tara is capable of aspected bursts, she still needs to work on her resistances before she can rely on them to eradicate aspect beings.”
Terry sighed. Terry had mostly interacted with Thena, Clayson, and Tara at the Libra Outpost. None of them were suitable for Terry to form a group with. Tara’s skill-set did not match Terry’s desired mission type and there was too much of a skills gap between Terry and the two dwarfs.
“If you are looking to hunt aspect beings, then perhaps you can join up with one of Palmer’s students. They don’t call him Demonpalm for nothing. His students have the most experience against aspect beings. Besides…” Sigille grinned. “You are scheduled to encounter some of them in combat practice soon, anyway.”
***
