by Andrew Lynch
‘Oh. Then yes. I am here for those, please.’
‘This way, brother.’
He led me down the tent corridor. Each offshoot we passed seemed to lead to larger hubs, all of them filled with dozens of cultists all bustling around, busy with whatever they did. Sacrifices to the dark gods, presumably.
After six different intersections, each one handled without the need to look up by my guide, he stopped outside a door and gestured for me to enter. I stepped through, stooping as I exited the corridor. I didn’t need to, the ceiling was taller than myself, but the whole place gave a feeling of being too small.
In front of me now were cultists in dark red robes. The black tent material had changed to the same red as the cultists. There was a sunken pit with several fighters practicing as the main feature of the room.
However, there was a different type of minion here. Was this the second type of minion I could recruit? Exciting! There were two walking around, giants of their race, shouting at anyone that passed. Male and female, with shaved heads, and wearing next to nothing. A few leather straps pulled tight across their bodies and legs. The straps didn’t seem to be practical at all. They didn’t even holster their weapons there. They both carried a large morningstar that smoked from the ball on the end of the chain. In the other hand, similar to my chain that wrapped around my arm, they had a leather strip that they let hang, whipping themselves every few steps. Zealots! Awesome. I was pumped to get some. I mean, they had no armour, so I couldn’t see them being useful in a siege, but maybe I could take some with me.
I put my thoughts in order. Bri had mentioned that she got hers early and in her twenties. And you get a quest to come to the order halls when you reach twenty. That’s probably a big chain quest. Hmm, something to think about.
Aww, man. I really wanted some zealots now.
One of the cultists broke off from his task, which necessitated carrying around two knives and having one strapped to his arm, and approached me. ‘Hello, brother. How can the Blooded Cleft aid the dread pantheon through your will?’
‘The blooded cleft?’
‘No. The Blooded Cleft, if you please.’
‘Sorry. The Blooded Cleft. Is your dread pantheon… the same as the dark gods?’
The cultists made a shaking motion with his hand. ‘Differing ideologies and mythos, but the same end goal.’
‘Right. Good. Well, then it’s quite possible that the dark pantheon does wish you to aid me.’
‘A shock, certainly.’ He motioned for me to continue.
‘Well, there was a small… assassination. I mean, if you could even really call it that. But me and my friend got blamed, you know how it is.’ He nodded sagely as if he did actually know how it was. ‘And we had a brief chase that led to our escape. But we need to wipe that bounty off our heads. Any ideas?’
The cultist scratched his chin with the tip of both knives. ‘We could kill some people?’
I nodded in thought. ‘Yes. Yes, no, I don’t think that’s the right answer here.’
He blew out a big breath, like a craftsman appraising a particularly tricky job. ‘We could… bloodlet some people?’
‘Hmm. Define bloodlet, just to be clear.’
He held up his knives. ‘Well, we cut them up real bad and–’
I held up my hand. ‘Perhaps something that doesn’t involve going to war against the capital city of the world? Frankly, I’ve got enough wars on my hands as it is.’
He chuckled. ‘Isn’t that the truth! Well, if you need help with some proper killing, do let the Blooded Cleft know. But I suspect your problems would be better suited to the coven next door. The Barons of Bureaucracy.’
‘Barons of… right. I’ll go there then.’
The earth elemental cultist took me along the tent corridor until we reached the next opening.
This room had a similar setup, but instead of fighters in the pit, there were rows of scribes sitting at lecterns, all scribbling manically. Also the colour of the robes and tent cloth was now a dark blue – one could call it an inky blue. The zealots here were similarly garbed, and had the same weapons, but strapped to their backs were large tomes, and from each limb, intricate scrollwork flowed. Again, a cultist broke off from the bustle of his work and greeted me. I told him my problem.
‘Let me guess. They suggested killing, right?’
I nodded.
‘Ha! Yeah, they enjoy that. Killing. And bloodletting. Of course. Big fans.’
‘I noticed, yeah.’
‘No, no. See, what you need is a ritual sacrifice.’
I barely managed to stop my hand half way up to slapping my forehead. ‘To be clear… what do you mean?’
‘Yeah, we’ll get some of the boys together – great lot they are – and we’ll do a bit of chanting, a bit of scribing, and boom, ritual will solve it all.’
I rocked back and forth. ‘That seems too good to be true. What’s the catch?’
He blew out the same big breath as the last cultist, like a craftsman appraising a particularly tricky job. ‘Cost ya. That’s for sure. Also, it’s not instant. And there will be some footwork for you. But it will work. Pending appeals, of course.’
I frowned. ‘Okay, but this ritual, is there a sacrifice involved?’
‘Always, always.’
‘And what would that be?’
He cast an appraising eye into a book he was carrying. ‘Well, a standard bounty removal will be all items we keep in stock, so no need to go hunting. Just a few sheets of parchment, quills, ink pots, the usual.’
I was starting to get an idea of what exactly this “ritual” was. ‘Are you… correct me if I’m wrong, but are you just submitting paperwork for me?’
‘In a very ritualistic manner, yes.’
I nodded. ‘Barons of Bureaucracy, right. I think some of my cultists might be related. Remarkably tight on their contracts.’
‘We are the best, but we do on occasion train others, so anything is possible. What is the covens name?’
‘The Wooded Cult?’
The bureaucrat scratched the back of his head, but that clearly failed to stimulate anything, so he quickly thumbed through his book and scanned several pages. Finally he let out a defeated “Hmmmm”.
I cleared my throat. ‘So, you can help with the legal issues?’
He shook his head to bring himself back to the conversation. ‘Yes. Yes, it should be simple enough. Under Tulgat Law, we are guilty until reasonably supposed to be innocent.’
‘That sounds very “wooly” for a law system, no?’
He waved his hand dismissively. ‘All laws are done this way. It makes the lawmen feel better about accepting bribes to not prosecute politicians. Or nobles. Or particularly rich merchants. Or friends. Anyone with money or leverage, basically.’
‘When you put it that way, it sounds even more corrupt! Yet also, a lot more realistic, so continue.’
‘Thank you. We need to provide reasonable supposition of innocence. Eyewitnesses?’
‘I wasn’t paying attention to anyone around me apart from my partner.’
He smiled wide. ‘It’s exactly that kind of self absorbed focus that makes a good warlock, brother.’
I shrugged defensively. ‘I would prefer the term careful introspection, but… yeah, okay, maybe I’m a dick. Either way, I don’t know who would have seen it.’
‘Not to worry. Do you have the murder weapon?’
‘Umm, no. Neither me nor my partner saw what happened. It was so fast, and we certainly didn’t see a weapon drop to the ground.’
He chuckled a little bit. ‘No, no, brother, I mean did you keep the weapon on you? We can plant it elsewhere and alert the authorities. Quick and easy.’
Was he saying…?
‘I didn’t do it.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ He shrugged. ‘Really, no? Okay, we all let weapons slip occasionally, I suppose. Perhaps we can argue power levels. There’s no way a level eleven could have handled a c
ity guard. What about your partner?’
‘I’m level ten act– oh my eyes, how did I miss gaining a level?! Honestly! Planning a war is way too distracting.’
His shoulders jerked in laughter. ‘Very true, brother. Not enough hours in the day!’
‘Yeah. Yeah, well anyway. Umm, Bri is in her twenties. I’d have to talk to her to know the exact level.’
‘That wouldn’t do it either. Okay, well that’s a start. We could argue that, but… let me see your robes.’
I stepped back and held my arms out to the side. ‘What is it?’
‘This could be good.’ He turned and shouted into the pit for a visualiser. Another cultist left his lectern and joined us. ‘What do you think of these blood patterns, brother?’
They spoke in hushed tones, making various slashing and stabbing motions, then looking at my robe like an artist looked at a canvas. I looked down and noticed that I was covered in blood. My face must be too, I remembered. Arterial spray was an incredible thing.
‘Brother, what were you doing when you “weren’t” killing these guards?’
I rubbed my chin, noticing that I was almost sporting a full beard now. Let’s think. There was the queue, I remembered that. Way too long, and that drop had been terrifying. Talked a bit on the way up. Then I noticed the guards looked poor, which stood out from the opulence of everything else I’d seen up until then. They also didn’t seem to really care. Then they died. No, they’d asked for something.
‘I was digging around in my robe to get my visa. It had slipped down, so I’d needed both hands.’
The two cultists whispered to each other before a smile grew over both their faces.
‘Let the ritual begin!’
Chapter 39: Mushrooms Are Not Flowers
I paid them, they performed their “ritual” and I visited Bri in her lockup cell. She was, all things considered, rather well dispositioned. I believe her words implied that she would kick me so hard that a vital part of my anatomy would end up in my mouth, and everyone I kissed from then on would be getting a facial. Again, all things considered, she didn't actually do that to me, which was rather polite of her, I felt.
I told Bri the plan, and I described the “ritual” as I’d seen it. She was equally unimpressed with how much money they’d charged. It was just a guy writing a document. He muttered about litigation a bit. I suppose he did daub the ink rather well so there was no smearing. All in all, rather underwhelming.
I’d complained, of course. The cultist had handed me a ream of paper and told me to fill out a formal complaint. Needless to say, the Warlocks of Bureaucracy won again that day.
They told me it would take several days for the ritual to take hold. Which I now assumed meant that there would be a bit of back and forth between the scribe and the authorities. With several days to kill in Tulgatha, I asked Bri if she wanted to return to Thanis. Apparently not. She informed me of a tricksy little time issue that no one had told me about before, regarding the portals. Although it appeared instant and seamless to the one walking through them, it actually took a full day of in-game time – a nebulous concept, at best – so there wasn’t much point making two trips.
Better to get to know the area, and hang out in our respective class halls. Which had been my cue to let her out of the Warlock Hollow. Except, the Druid Grove was in the mid tier, so Bri opted for a particularly rough looking tavern deep in the shadows of the low tier.
My hand hovered nervously on the door to her room. It had been four days, and I’d finally built up my courage. I was going to ask her out. Every day we’d met, and we’d hung out, and things had gone well. She had only threatened me with bodily harm a few times a day. The bright purple and black mushrooms I held in my right hand started to droop. She was a druid, so she had to like flowers, right? Of course, flowers weren’t great at growing in the Warlock Hollows, so the mushrooms would have to do. It’s the same thing, really. And the guy that had sold them to me said something or other about what they were actually supposed to be used for, which sounded pretty relevant.
Stick to the plan. Step one, knock on door. Step two, hand over “flowers”. Step three, ask on date.
Stay focused. Let nothing distract.
It was going on fifteen minutes that I’d been stood frozen in front of her door. And it had been half an hour of pacing downstairs before I got as far as here. The kind of pacing that makes a room full of unsavoury characters decide not to mess with you because you’re obviously going through something.
But that was the past. This was the hand hovering over door present. This was it. I was going to do it. Right now.
Now.
Now.
Okay, now.
The door opened, and a man looked startled to see me outside his door, then looked at me like I was an idiot, and pushed past me. In a blind panic, I looked into the room. How dare she! I hadn’t had time to tell her how I felt! She’d had nothing to do for a few days so had become a literal whore?!
‘What are you doing, Severo?’ Bri asked from behind me.
Ooh, wrong room. Right.
I turned to face her in the narrow hall, and laughed nervously, my relief palpable. I hung my head in shame at the thoughts I’d had. That instant flash of jealousy and anger against someone I liked who hadn’t done anything wrong.
I pushed the mushrooms toward her and mumbled, ‘I brought flowers.’
She put her hands on her hips and gave them a sniff. ‘Are they deadly?’
I had just thought they looked pretty. I was supposed to take lethality into account, too? I looked down at the rash that was growing in my hands. ‘They might be.’
Oh, damn it! Trying to get the girl, but I was hunched over, not looking her in the eyes, and mumbling. Kill me now.
‘They’re to track the guy… right?’
An exit strategy? Perfect! Another suggestion for the ritual to succeed had been that if we could track down the killer, then that would, rather obviously, help smooth the process.
‘Yeah. Yes, that’s right.’ I pulled my shoulders back. ‘We can mix these with honey, and they produce a noxious hallucinogen. Seers use it to find the truth. Or so a particularly eager warlock vendor told me.’
‘Hallucinating isn’t the same–’
‘Magical hallucinations. It distorts time. In theory, we can sort through our minds to see what really happened. At the very least, we might be able to make out the race of whoever did it. Maybe see who was standing behind us to track down an eyewitness.’
‘That sounds very unsafe. You’re doing it.’
I nodded vigorously. The merchant hadn’t told me quantities or tried to sell me a recipe, but I’m sure it would be fine.
‘Let’s do it.’
That phrase had been my cue to lie down in Bri’s bed. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in it too. We’d taken some honey from the tavern, and gone to work grinding the mushrooms into it. It looked aggressively viscous, and when crushed, the mushrooms gave off a very earthy smell. We crushed them all and mixed the reagents together. Interestingly, once mixed, the combination smelt of antiseptic.
Bri handed me the bowl. ‘Eat till you feel something.’
I shrugged. ‘I’ll have it all, then wait for the effects.’
I used two fingers to scoop a big dripping hunk of the concoction into my mouth. The antiseptic smell filled my nostrils and the first swallow really cleared my sinuses out. It also coated my entire mouth, and I realised I’d have to spend the next few minutes working industriously to get it off.
I said, ‘I’m not feeling anything, so I’ll keep going. No need to wait for me.’
Bri’s eyes opened wide. ‘Definitely too much.’
Huh? I thought back to what I’d said. Oh dear, that had been what I tried to say. My mind was still working, but I had lost control of my mouth. I’d just slurred and murmured. I fell back on to the bed. I tried to get up, but that definitely wasn’t going to happen. I tried to lift my arm, but no luck there. Turn
my head to look at Bri and instill in her a shared sense of terror with my eyes? Nope. Could I at least not swallow my tongue?
I stood up.
‘Woah, that was sudden. Didn’t last long, though. Guess it didn’t work.’
Bri was still looking at the bed. I turned to see myself. Eyes, I looked a state. And Bri was seeing me like this! I groaned at the emotional, very palpable pain, of my crush seeing me in this state.
‘Out of body experience it is, then.’ I shouted now, ‘Can you hear me?’
Bri didn’t react. Could be a cruel joke. She’d totally do that to me. But I’d accept it for now, because more likely than going with the joke, she’d have hit me for shouting in her ear.
I licked my finger and stuck it in her ear. It went straight through. Couldn’t interact with people either. I’d have to tell her I gave her a wet willy when I broke out of this hallucination. Although, on second thoughts, don’t want to get killed. Still have a siege to prep and a village to defend. Revolution to rally, all that stuff. Busy, busy, no time to die.
I tried to pick up the bowl of honey mushroom goop. My hand went straight through.
‘Well that doesn’t make much sense. If I can’t touch physical objects, then why am I standing on the floor.’ I said to myself, right before I fell through the floor.
I landed hard in the room directly below Bri’s. The shock and loss of Life snapped me out of thinking about that conundrum post-fucking-haste.
‘Ahh, the classic “if you think about it, it doesn’t work”. Well played, game. Well played.’
I heard a whisper, but couldn’t make out what it said. Yet, somehow, the words didn’t matter. It wasn’t an instruction, exactly, and it wasn’t physical, but I could feel a pull. A curiosity at the back of my mind telling me to explore. It wasn’t a compulsion, I didn’t feel I had to do it. Whatever it was, however, I was going to follow, because I didn’t know what else to do, especially now that I couldn’t just stare at Bri’s perfect face.
I ignored the three men on the bed, despite how loud and rough they were being, and walked through the closed door.
I left the tavern and kept walking. How did I know where to go? Well, nothing here quite seemed right. I was twisting and turning down streets, but there were no people. I could hear a crowd in the distance, and so I headed toward it, the feeling pulling me that way.
