necariin
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Chapter 703
🕑 Added 2024-01-15 13:00:04 +0000 UTCEnjoy!
ToC
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The two of them slipped out of the drafty side door leading onto a rooftop patio. It was why they'd rented the cramped apartment in the first place.
"Who are they?" Atar asked as they stepped into the chill winds.
Isla raised a finger to her lips and shook her head.
Bah.
The patio was level with the next building, and the Chanter swiftly leaped across the gap. Atar followed, though with far less grace. The cloaked figures scurried below, passing down street after street, taking turns seemingly at random. And all the while, the two of them shadowed them from above, like hawks hunting prey.
However, when the two cloaked figures turned down onto an empty side street, they paused before vanishing entirely.
"They're using the same devices as the thief," Atar murmured. He reached up and activated his amulet, the one he had made to counter the artifacts of their quarry. Its magic sang through him just in time to see the hazy form of their targets scurry down the street and around the corner. He and the Chanter traded a look before they followed at speed.
Now that they were practically invisible, the cloaked figures lost all sense of caution and ran pell-mell for their destination, a large mansion deep in the Scale district. They passed through a small set of wrought iron gates, trudging across deep snow to enter through a side entrance.
Shortly after, Atar and Isla crept onto the grounds. It was a risk, but Atar detected no sigaldry and the Chanter was confident that the property was not warded.
“Strange for such a place,” Isla commented. “Not even a simple alarm to tell the occupants of new arrivals.”
That didn't feel right to Atar either, but it did make their job easier. They stole across the grounds and up to the mansion, where Isla whispered something in song. Thick ivy rose from the frozen earth, growing rapidly up the wall and protruding in very obvious handholds. Atar mimed applause. Smirking, the golden-haired Chanter led the way up and onto a low roof.
“Woven Silence,” Atar murmured. A soft wave of Mana spun from his hands and feet, coating both of them in a cocoon of quiet. After a few gentle tests, they found a single unlocked window and eased it open carefully. The spell caught and muffled its squeaking, and the two of them slipped through.
Within, Atar found the cluttered room of a child. Wooden toys were scattered across the ground, along with a number of delicate dolls, and right next to the window was a four-poster child’s bed. A little girl slept there, hair askew and breathing deeply while clutching one of her dolls.
"What is going on here?" he whispered. The nature of his spell meant any words he spoke would be heard only by Isla. “Who lives here?”
"I do not know," Isla replied, "but we shall find out."
They crept out of the room and down the hall, keeping to the shadows. Woven Silence ate through his mana but as the floorboards creaked more than once, Atar was happy for the sacrifice. They walked like shadows in the night, out past a balcony overlooking the front entrance. The lanterns were dimmed and there was no one in either the parlor or the sitting room.
Isla tapped Atar’s shoulder and pointed further down the corridor. Light spilled up a set of stairs in the back, likely for the servants. Wordlessly, they slipped down the hall and followed the light. Below, they found the kitchens and a narrow door. Atar peered through a crack in the door and spotted their quarry.
Three people stood within the relatively small chamber, which had a large but battered table complete with spindly chairs. Clearly a servant’s dining room, it was still lavishly decorated. The walls were covered in tapestries to keep out the cold, but they were rich, expensive things woven with thread of gold and silver and depicting noble knights hunting dire beasts. A merry fire burnt in a hearth wider than the tiny apartment they had been squatting in, and its flames lit up the room and filled it with a stifling warmth.
A rotund man with a large mustache and a fine dressing gown, stood angrily by the hearth. He glared bleary-eyed at his two cloaked visitors. “When I said I would aid you, I did not mean you could come to my house, my home, in the middle of the night.”
“They know of our involvement, Zekal." The large man in the dressing gown paled, his mustache quivering. "Who knows?"
"We are uncertain who, but they are threatening to tell the Chancellor about our activities." Zekal’s lip curled. "The inhuman puppet of our fine tyrant."
Tyrant? Atar frowned Are they talking about Felix?
"How could this happen? You assured me that what we did would remain a secret. You promised me that,” Zekal almost growled.
“I assured you that you would be protected, and that is why we are here, fool,” the taller figure snarled right back, and Zekal flinched.
“Fine.” His mustache quivered as he attempted to sniff imperiously. “What is your plan to rectify this?"
The shorter figure wringed their hands together. "We must get the remainder of your reagents. The work must be completed before—"
"Hold," the taller one said, head lifting. "Someone—"
Isla stepped out, green-gold Mana playing around her arms and hands. Rigid vines burst through the floorboards, snaking across theri bodies until they were bound, hand and foot. The noble barely did more than whimper in fear while the cloaked figures fought mightily until Isla snapped off some wordless command. Serrated thorns grew from the vines, pressing toward their vital areas until they dimpled their exposed flesh. Flowers the size of dinnerplates bloomed alongside the highest thorns, and their pale petals shoved back their hoods.
“Sima and Gauruk. I thought I recognized your whining," Isla said, her voice low and dark. Atar's skin crawled at her tone, which plucked at a primal instinct within his heart. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to run from that place.
begone.
The fear vanished, burnt away by a plume of flame that scoured his core space. Atar blinked and stepped out after Isla. "Chanters? Explain yourselves," he demanded.
"Isla and the Autarch’s pet fire mage," the orc growled. Gauruk, Atar assumed. She looked to Isla. "The letter, that was you?"
"You are not asking the questions here," Isla said. "You are working with the saboteurs that destroyed the places around the city. Why?"
"Do not answer her, Sima," Gauruk ordered. The pale-haired man snapped his mouth shut. "She cannot kill us without bringing us to the Cantus. Mauvim would have her head."
"I care little for censure when it comes to betrayal, and I'll do worse than kill you, Sima. Have you considered spending the next century as a fire beetle?" The thorns around him tightened, drawing a gasp of pain from the man. "Talk to me," she demanded.
"I will talk," the noble said, tears streaming down his face. "I–I don't want to be a beetle!”
“Speak.”
“Ah, I harvest reagents in the forest. Beasts, fungi, even rare herbs that grow in this forsaken weather. It's hard work, thankless work, and the harvest sells for a pittance barely enough to maintain the roof over my head."
Atar looked up at the very expensive chandelier that hung down in the servants' common area. "Uh-huh. How sad for you."
Zekal nodded earnestly. "I am reduced to so little. Many of us were when Haarwatch fell. My true profits had all been in the mines, but my holdings were destroyed in the city's collapse, and the rise of Lady Boscal wrested away what little profits I was still making. So I spent everything I could, all my fortune, on coming here to Elderthrone. I even paid for this house to be built according to my specifications, though I had to settle for this paltry district instead of a place befitting a man of my station.” The noble gritted his teeth. “The Chancellor had refused it, you know, as had that Knacht brat. It was good his father was crushed by the Eyrie tower. He would have been appalled to see how his son treated his peers."
Atar clenched his fists, feeling anger roll through him like fire in his veins. But he stayed silent.
"I don't care about your pitiful life story," Isla said. "Explain what you are doing."
"I was getting to—I apologize. I was hired to gather those reagents and bring the majority to them.” Unable to gesture with his hands, Zekal nodded at the two Chanters. “And they took them and paid me twice what I was making in the market. How could I refuse? It's just sound business."
"And did you know this business was harming people?" The noble went quiet at her words, and Atar could gather all he needed from his guilty Spirit. Disgusted, Isla turned to the others. "If you two are involved, then so is Anguin. Where is he?"
"We don't know," Sima paled. "We don't know. He said he was going to meet the—”
“Quiet Sima, that does not concern them."
"You made it concern the entire city when you funneled supplies to this dangerous group. People have died, Gauruk. Does that not matter to you?"
"Freedom must be paid in blood. The people of Neer knew that when they faced down the queen's men. How could we risk less?"
"You only risk the lives of others," Atar said. And that heat gathered now behind his eyes. His skin prickled as if he had a fever. "For what?"
"We will not be shackled. Not by the Hierocracy, and certainly not by Nevarre!”
“They're afraid, Atar. All of them. Anguin, too, for all his bluster." Isla looked thoroughly disgusted. "You're fools, and I was a fool for allowing you into my home."
Gauruk sneered at the far shorter Chanter. "Do you think me stupid? I found out you've been a plant for Zara this whole time. That's why I told Anguin not to include you in this. That's why, when the time comes, you will not be exempt from retribution."
"Retribution from who?" Atar asked and the two Chanters went silent again.
Isla tightened her vines, but even when her thorns drew blood they did not speak. "Sima?” the pale Chanter pressed his lips tight as blood ran down his cheek. “Pathetic. You risk the lives of others for your own supposed freedom, but in the end you’re just afraid.”
Gauruk’s fists clenched, and unfettered anger rolled off her Spirit.
This is going nowhere. Atar's skin burned, and he suppressed a mad desire to itch his entire body. We need to end this before anyone else gets hurt.
let me aid you, atar.
Atar clenched his jaw. No, I can solve this myself. He had spent enough time with Harn and Felix, and seen his fair share of unconventional tactics.
Primal Firestorm!
Atar's body became flame, white streaked with vibrant crimson. He grabbed Sima's cloak, igniting it, but controlling the flames so that they merely licked at the man's skin. Sima cried out, and the Chanter’s skin reddened around Atar's grip. "I'm tired of this game. Who is your contact?"
“I—”
Atar said nothing. Instead, his flames flowed hotter, turning a patch of his cloak to ash before Sima’s skin began to char.
"We don't know!" Sima hurriedly said. "We were only to arrange deliveries of the reagents, always to a new place!"
"Quiet, Sima!” Gauruk shouted.
"Name. Give me a name."
"Rodrik Beltane!" Sima cried out.
Just as the orc broke free of her vines. "Die!"
She brought her hands down, wreathed in stone and falling like a warhammer.
Inexorable Enkindling!
Primal firestorm winked out, as did the blaze within the wide hearth. All of it surged into Atar, boosting his strength as he caught the orc Chanter's blow with a single hand.
"Tried it once," he said. "Didn't take." With his other hand, he threw a powerful jab into her gut. He felt something break, and the orc dropped to the ground.
You have defeated Gauruk Earthcaller!
XP earned!
A bit of silence followed, and Atar felt the eyes of everyone on him. He ignored them and focused on Sima, who was still bound in place.
"Rodrik Beltane," he repeated. "Who in the Blighted Night is that?"
Comments
Jravid
I forget his actual name but he’s Lillian’s accomplice.Who in turn is allistirs cousin
Minitiative
Defeated does not mean killed.
ouroboros
They clearly broke the supposed pact, which seems now worthless as it did nothing to prevent this seemingly, and killed many people. The one got off easy dying. What a rookie mistake to kill a source of information like that when he overpowered them so much at that. Letting emotions guide is not always wise but at least they have others. They'll need a scapegoat or they'll have to throw out the chanters to avoid a civil war if it gets out what those geniuses were up to. What a shit show. Bah, but I'm more interested in the power ups for Felix tbh. Thanks for the chapter.
Aaron Schwartz
Do we know who that is?
