“Thank you, that means a lot coming from a man of high station.” I snorted. “What? You don’t think that little display of sheer terrifying power isn’t enough to earn you a bit of respect?” I just stared at him again, blinking against the cold. “So you’re new to power then. Fair enough.” I shook myself and turned the conversation to my suspicions.
“You seem to have an ability to read people. What can you tell me about them?” I pointed at the group of prisoners. Now sitting in groups of four or five, stripped of arms, armor, and gear. The captain thought about it for a long moment before answering.
“They’re new, but well led. Desperate folk, but not like the kind you run into in most places. Desperate to leave, you see. There are many folk among them who the crown wouldn’t be too pleased if they stayed around. Honestly, I think most of these folk are like many who are headed north. No thought of where they’re going, nor time to prepare for the trip.”
“The cleansing? The church pushing them out?” I asked, and the man grimaced. After a moment he gave a turse nodd in agreement.
“Many of’em yeah. Not all of’em though. There are two things people can do when forced to flee. Beg for the kindness of the people along the way, or,” He motioned towards the group. “Do what these men have been doin. Fightin, stealin, raiden. Killing when needs it, I’m sure. Most of’em have that look. But it has forced them. They’ve not come to the life willingly I suspect.” The captain turned to start giving orders. He orders a couple dozen of his men, half his force to march south with us to the bridge and back to the city. He had to. His men needed warm safe places to sleep and recuperate. No barge could offer that kind of hospitality. When he was done giving his orders he looked back at me, his expression severe. “Eh, but they’ll hang just like any other thief in the kingdom.” He walked away, but I touched his arm to hold him back.
“How long is your current contract? And what are your rates?” I asked. One could never have too many friends who would commit violence. Particularly professionals. The large man laughed before answering.
“I’ll personally be back in less then six days. Once the barges are past the halfway point the Twins have patrol boats that will keep them safe. Why? Do you need someone killed? We’re not assassins, nore soldiers.” I shook my head slowly, understanding his reluctance. Men like him were professionals, they did their jobs. But they didn’t fight for causes. Not unless their backs were truly up against the wall.
“No nothing like that. I get the feeling there’s going to be more people like this along the way. And I would like to help them if I can. Before they are forced to turn to this kind of thing.”
“Noble goal mage, noble goal indeed. Send a message to the chapter house in the market district and they’ll send someone to give you a quote if you have the need. Remember, Black Wolfguard Services. Or just look for the sign with the giant black wolf on it, that should give it away. One more thing though, if the chapter master here locally already has a contract that would interfere with your work, which he might, he won’t tell you. He won’t take your contract, but he won’t tell you why. Just a bit of a trick of the trade, might help you avoid us if we end up being on the wrong side of a job.” With that he finally left. Leaving me and Ailsa to discuss our next move.
---
Twenty minutes later we were all marching south to the Stone Bridge I had seen the Count and his Griffon riders land on over a week and a half ago. It was bitter cold, and the snow fell like rice at a wedding. Even the magically warm stones of the Kings Road which mirrored the Kings River were starting to show signs of freezing. Small snow drifts piling up overwhelming the enchantments in the stones.
Traser and I led the way, Tol’geth marching at the rear of the column. The guards each took up spots to the side of the prisoner train ensuring that none of them would make an easy escape of it if they broke and ran for the forest. I used the enchantment in my staff and ring to melt the ice as it formed. But even then things were still difficult. A couple of times I had to blast the way clear with a Jet of Flame just to see where the road was taking us.
As we moved I told Traser about my concerns. We discussed various options and by the time we reached the Stone bridge we had an idea of what to do with the people behind us. One that would satisfy the demands of justice, and hopefully allow for some mercy in the bigger scheme of things. “Should I speak to them about it or you?” I asked as we both stopped on the far side of the bridge and allowed the prisoners to pass us. Traser had already talked with the bridge’s guards, and the city watch had been informed and were supposedly waiting for us.
“Well, if they are what you say then it might come better from you.” He said. He then pointed towards one of the lead groups where the man with the gnarly scar and eye patch was leading his small group of three others across the bridge. “That would be who you would want to talk too about it. His name is Quinn Benon. He was agreeable enough to surrender to me, but without a knife to his throat I doubt I could get more than a dagger to the stomach from him.” I grunted agreement, and Traser left jogging back to the front of the prisoner train. I waited until they got close, and then started walking next to the group.
Quinn gave me a glare from his good eye as we walked together. The other men shied away from me slightly but he didn’t so much as flinch. We walked in silence for a few minutes as we rounded the nearly frozen lake. Eventually the other four men drifted back and joined other prisoners leaving me and Quinn alone to talk.
“So, what do you want?” His voice was a solid tenner, not something that I would have expected from someone who looked like he chewed gravel in the morning. I decided to stay silent for a minute and see what he did. “Are you just playing games mage? Or do you want something before me and my men are strung up from the city walls?” I sighed.
“Well Quinn my man, here’s the thing. I want to know why you, and more than half your men all have some kind of bloodline, and are raiding everything in sight?” Quinn looked taken aback for a moment but soon regained his composure.
“You have an Analyze ability then? Interesting, you northerners are not total morons like I thought.” I hadn’t realized he had a different accent then most of the other Torish I had met. But as I thought about it I realized his words were a bit slower, more deliberate and drawled. It wasn’t heavily noticeable which is why I thought it had to do more with him being thoughtful then from somewhere else.
“Not from around here then?” I asked.
“No, and most of us aren’t. We’re from further south though we picked up a couple of guys who wanted out of a local group just recently.”
“The ones who attacked the town?”
“Yeah, I think so. The ones that broke and ran were their guys. Bastards stayed at the back and probably wanted to frame us for whatever they were doing.”
“You just wanted the barge to, what? Get away from Tor?” He grunted, confirming what I had thought. “And what were you going to do with the owners of those barges?”
“I never said we were good men, just desperate.” I nodded along thinking.
“If I were to give you and your men an opportunity to help me kill someone truly evil, and then to help others like yourselves would you be willing to take it?” It was Quinn’s turn to think long and hard about the question. We passed under the massive statue of Dominus the god of the sun in his harvester aspect. He wielded a ray of light in one hand, and wheat in the other that turned into a spear near the bottom of the statue. It was a strange symbol, one I didn’t really understand but the people of Sowers Vale seemed to really value the thing. The city watch lined the walls, crossbows in hand watching as the prisoners marched under their angry glare. Only one of the cop-knights I had first encountered upon entering the city was there frantically searching the crowd for wrong doers.
I wonder if he can tell if one of them is going to run or not, or if he can just tell if people are lawbreakers. As I considered the mechanics of the strange order of knights
abilities Quinn sighed deeply.
“I would, but I can’t swear my men would follow me. I’m sure some of them would but, I don’t know about the rest. But that’s only if you can promise to save us from the noose, and get us out of Tor.”
“I can do both. Just follow my lead when we get where we are going. You have my word, the word of a wizard.” A prompt appeared in my vision telling me I had given an oath. It was one I intended on keeping here in the next few minutes so I swiped it away without really reading it. We kept walking, and I kept peppering Quinn with questions. Apparently the man had originally been a minor city lord in the Southern Duchy. The real southern Duchy not the country that people sometimes called the southern douchey. Honestly, Torish social issues were not really my forte but I listened as the man answered each of my questions.
Quinn had heard that some priest and a knight were running around to all of his people and scaring them, saying that if half of them didn’t leave the country they would be executed. Naturally he rode out with his three most trusted knights and cornered the two. He had been astonished to learn that they had a real royal writ of expulsion. The priest had used some spell on all four of them, and Quinn and one other of his knights were found to have Pervolin bloodlines. The other two did not, and were given all of Quinns duties as he was banished from the kingdom.
As I listened I grew more and more certain of my decision. The man walking next to me was not a good man, at least, not anymore. But he had been once, and he could be again. “Well, I think we are here.” It was then that Quinn looked up and saw where we were. Just outside the Cathedral, specifically the chapel house of the Dead God. It was time I went and introduced myself.
---
“So there is provision for it?” I asked just to clarify. The man in front of me was a small man, weasley by disposition but not the lying kind of weasel. More the kind that liked to be overly precise as a defense mechanism.
“Yes, in this highly specific situation I think there is. Under most circumstances the laws of Dominus or the crown would of course take precedence. But, with you being a foreigner, most of the people in question being exiles, and with you having been given a right to raise an army by any means necessary? I think it is legal.”
“Okay what do you mean you think?” I said exasperated. I too was someone who liked to be precise, I hated surprises.
“I mean that if I were questioned by a royal inquisitor my stance would not change.” The little man’s eyes went steel. I found where his conviction was, and that made me feel a lot better about the entire thing. It was a lesson I learned from my dad a long time ago, when dealing with an honest lawyer push until they start pushing back. The man in front of me, honestly the entire clergy of the dead god had a reputation for being just that, honest.
“Good, then what needs to happen?” We stood inside the chapel of the Dead God, it was massive and looked like a near mirror of the same cathedral as Dominus’s we had seen when we first got here. Tall, beautiful, and intricate. The only difference was it was almost entirely empty. A few elderly or wounded people wondered here or there, praying, lighting candles, or receiving treatment from the handful of clergy that remained in the city. Honestly, the entire display made me sad, such a beautiful and large place was meant to be admired. Not worshiped in and of itself, but used, loved well, to be the beating heart of a community.
As the little man explained everything that would need to happen, I took mental notes in my journal log. I found myself able to multitask, not just jump between two or more things but to actually split my mind so I could do several simple tasks at once. After a few seconds of my eyes wondering and examining the structure the cleric cleared his throat.
“Master Wizard, I hate to be rude but are you paying attention? Some of this is vital if what you want to happen is to take place.” I looked back at the earnest cleric and smiled.
“I apologize, I must look like I’m not being attentive. I’m actually taking notes. But this. . .” I gestured to the vast building. “. . . It is wonderful. Rivaling anything I have seen. Why is it kept so dark? The images must only be vibrant when the light from the sun or the moon shines down on them directly. Why do you not have services regularly?” The cleric’s smile was sad but genuine.
“We do not have services any longer. Have not for a very long time. Nearly a thousand years, since our god sacrificed himself to save . . .” He gestured to everything with his free hand. “. . . all of us.” I opened my mouth to ask the obvious question but he cut me off. “That story is only told once a year. At the festival of music after the battle of the bards, and only as part of the new years celebration. Death of the Old and Birth of the New.” He said the phrase as if it were a well known chant. “Well, no time to waste. This must happen before noon.”
“Why is that?”
“Because that is when we go to sleep.” The man grinned, and I shook my head as I left the building and went to speak to my friends.
Chapter 12: Confession
"The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works." - Saint Augustine
Central Cathedral City of Sowers Vale, 5th Novos, 2989 AoR
Quinn and his two lieutenants stood on the steps to the cathedral. His 50 or so men fanned out behind him, flanked on all sides by members of the city watch. “What is this mage?” The one-eyed man demanded.
“This is what I promised you.” I whispered, stepping close to him so only he could hear. “Do what we ask, tell the truth, and things will end up as I promised you.” The man glared at me with his one good eye. I sighed and opened my Quest screen, selecting him as the target. I hesitated for just a moment before hitting the Yes button. This would represent nearly half my XP in a single quest to a single person I had just met. But I had a good feeling about him. About all of them, really. I believe in forgiveness, right? Redemption, repentance, and all of that? If I really do, then how can I not at least put my neck on the line for someone I think deserves a second chance? Someone who, I have it on good authority, was forced into this life by the very thing the ‘gods’ sent here me to resolve? Sighing, I hit the button.
“How about now? Do you trust me now?” I asked as his eyes widened and read the prompt. It was the highest ranked quest option I had, Legendary. After a moment, his eyes met mine.
“Wizard, that’s what Ethria said you are. A gods damned wizard.” I nodded confirmation, and Quinn had to blink a few times before he fully comprehended. “Does that mean, does that mean the Gods have not fully abandoned us?” He asked, his voice quiet and severe.
I opened my mouth to respond, but when I did, I received a warning prompt.
Warning! You are about to reveal information that would nullify the purpose and meaning of the quest that was given: To test Quinn Benon’s willingness to trust others. If you reveal you are summoned by a pantheon of interested deities to Quinn or his followers before the quest is completed then you will nullify this quest and receive all the penalties as if it had been failed. An additional 1.5 multiplier to any numeric penalties will be applied. You can not cheat Ethria Wizard, do not try.
“Uh,” So. That’s the limit, is it? I can give quests but I can’t cheat the system by giving away the answer or handing over the solution myself. That makes the restrictions on participating directly in quests at the higher levels more understandable. I’ll have to review that before I do much more quest giving. I waved away the notification and stared back at him. “Just, just trust me.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Your.” I hesitated, looking for the right word. I wondered exactly how close I could get to revealing the information without breaking Ethria’s rules. I pushed it a little and see just what I could get away with. “Your faith would not be misplaced in doing what I’ve told you. I promise.” There, I didn’t technically break the rule. Apparently, Ethria agreed as no wrathful text boxes appeared in my vision, and no lightning split the storm filled sky to smite me for impudence.
Quinn’s reaction was not what
I expected. Instead of getting frustrated at the cryptic message, his eye went wide with some form of understanding. He nodded in agreement. “I will do my best, Wizard. That is all anyone can ask.” With that, I stepped back and let the ceremony begin.
It was, like most of the Dead Gods rituals I had experienced up to that point, overly legalistic while remaining remarkably practical. The highest-level priest in their order left in the city, who was actually the cleric I had been talking about the entire situation with, stood in front of Quinn and his people. The snow fell and contrasted his deep black robes, while two powerful looking Dreadknights loomed over the entire crowd. A crowd, including no small amount of townspeople who were watching from balconies, windows, and from under awnings out of the weather, had gathered.
The priest raised his hands to the sky and explained everything we had just discussed inside. He laid out his legal argument for why his dead gods’ laws held sway over this situation. Several other priests and clerics from the Temples of Dominus, and one I didn’t recognize who a simple yet bright red robe watched on. The clerics of the sun god glared daggers mostly, but the man in red beamed a radiant smile at the little, black-robed cleric. I wonder if that’s a cleric from that fire goddess’s chapel Alderon showed me. The man was slightly pudgy, but his arms were built like bricks. He reminded me of my congregation’s leader back on Earth, Bishop Travestin.
Bishop Travestin had been a fat and happy family man who always had a piece of candy for children on Sunday, and a quick smile for anyone he met. When I had gotten older, I had realized just how strong my bishop had been as he lifted an entire old-west style cart out of a mud pit it had gotten stuck in. We were on a pioneer reenactment trip my parents had forced me to go on. Us kids and eventually the adults had been trying to make the thing move for nearly an hour and he had just come up, put his shoulder to the wheel, literally, and lifted it bodily into the air. After he did it he had panted and dang near sweated through his work clothes. But he had done it. And that guy in the red robes looked like he had that same kind of quiet strength, physically and spiritually.
Ethria 3: The Liberator Page 13
