117, 2/2

Erick needed to clear his head.

So, for whatever reason, he decided to visit a few more Presentations, while almost all the Shades were busy being elsewhere. Such were the circumstances in which he found himself walking along the roads of the Palace District, toward whatever that place up ahead was, where a plume of rainbow smoke billowed out from atop a long post.

He wasn’t alone.

“Not that I’m saying your presence isn’t welcome. But why?”

Fallopolis said, “I’m waiting to see who you kill next. That business with Gora was pure art, that was.”

Erick reflexively gasped, but he kept his reaction tiny, as soon as he realized it was happening. He said, “I didn’t kill him.” Erick attempted to quip, “Not a single point of Participation.”

“And that’s what made it so artful!” Fallopolis happily added, “Gora makes two Shades killed today.”

“… Two?” Erick asked, “Who was the other one?”

“You don’t know him, but he was a dragonkin Shade who helped the Halls of the Dead gain the materials to make a Breach Demon, all those months ago.”

Erick paused. He tried to think of any possible person, in any of Killzone’s words, who fell in line with what Fallopolis had just said. He came up blank. “I really should have heard of that one before now.” Especially since he was the one who killed the Breach Demon. He asked, “Who was it?”

“Guy by the name of Anopix. He always keeps to the deep shadows. He barely showed up this year. And then Tania killed him.” Fallopolis said, “He was a less-successful version of Torika, the Shade of Ashes. The one who Tania Judged the other day who went around infiltrating and killing higher-ups? You remember. I think Tania is following a plan, and culling the slippery or quiet ones, first. Anopix barely had a presence inside Kendrithyst, so he certainly qualified as quiet.” Fallopolis smirked. “Get it? Quiet? Of the Quiet War?”

“Well then I’m glad he’s dead.” Erick added, “Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”

Fallopolis nodded, agreeing. Then she said, “Tania is done, though.”

Erick frowned a little. “What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s going to start, soon. Cracks are showing.” Fallopolis said, “Look around you, Erick. Does this look like a place on the verge of a party?”

Erick had been looking around all this time. He saw normal people rushing to follow white lines carved into the road, hurrying to get to presentations, to submit themselves to individual Shades for consideration. He saw presentation spaces almost empty, or manned by a single non-Shade. What he didn’t see was the cavorting and extravagance and lounging and casual violence that he had expected, coming in to this Feast. “Well. Maybe.” He said, “I did expect orgies out in the open.”

Fallopolis exclaimed, “Yes! No orgies this year! You see it. This is wrong. And people are catching on.” She asked, “What’s your plan when the towers start falling?”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Fallopolis.”

With a slight scowl, she said. “How very politic.” And then she looked ahead. “Oh? Are we going to taunt Hollowsaur, next?”

Erick’s destination was just ahead; a large plot of grasslands on the western slope of the Palace, where large cages sat in the sun, and animals prowled under the watchful eye of their Beastmaster, Hollowsaur.

Erick said, “I heard he makes level 90 beasts, and I wanted to see one.”

Fallopoilis eyed him. “Why, though?”

He shrugged. “For a number of reasons.”

Fallopolis hmm’d, as the two of them finally moved close enough to see, in person, what was going on with the ‘animals’. Beyond a small fence that would have done nothing to prevent any sort of escape if any of the monsters inside wanted to escape, lounged four beasts, sunning themselves in the aurora light from above. Several small green people sat around with them, tending to their needs like the monsters were rich ladies at a spa. It was a relaxing sort of atmosphere.

Except for the monstrous monsters, of course.

One beast was a fox. It was three meters tall, and void-black, even its eyes, save for the tiny white tufts on the tips of its ears, and on the tips of its three tails. It sat in the sun, enjoying itself as a small green person brushed out its coat with a long rake. It yawned, showing off a red maw full of needle teeth.

Another monster was actually a collection of normal-sized monsters: owls made of lightning and fire. Four of them sat upon a scorched tree stand, while a small green man took turns flipping up fishes to them.

Ophiel instantly took an interest in the birds, and they took an interest in Ophiel, but Erick kept his own [Familiar]s back, as the lightning birds flapped a little and hooted at him from twenty meters away. A suddenly concerned owl-feeder looked over to Erick, his eyes going wide as he shook his head, muttering ‘no-no-no-no’. Erick just nodded, and stayed away from the lightning birds as he moved Ophiel out of direct line of sight. The owls calmed down, and Erick stayed on the edge of the field.

The last monster was an eyebeast made of golden eyes, held together by optic nerves and magic. Four meters tall, it almost looked like some sort of bull. The shape was there; four equal-length legs made of eyes, a thick body made of eyes, and a head with horns, which were, of course, made of eyes.

Killzone had told Erick about this one. It had been made from adventurers who had been turned into ‘eye-cattle’, who were then harvested for eyes, while being healed to ensure that the eyes kept coming. It was horrific stuff.

Doing some very rough math, and estimating the weight of an eye and the optic nerve weighing 10 grams, and comparing the bull in front of him to those Erick knew of, as weighing 1500 kg…

“A hundred and fifty thousand eyes?” Erick guessed. “Sounds about right.”

The gold-eyed bull plodded around on the grass. It leaned down to open its maw and eat some grass. Oh. So it had teeth, too. Maybe it wasn’t fully made of eyes? How quaint.

The abomination turned toward Erick. It huffed, then went back to its small green caretaker.

Erick turned to leave.

Hollowsaur stood on the road. He narrowed his eyes at Erick, and asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see the pretty monsters.”

“Cow shit.”

“Maybe.” Erick said, “I’ve actually been thinking a bit, too. Maybe that’s why I came over here.”

Hollowsaur deadpanned, “What.”

“You offer incentives for people to invade you, asking them to harm your people and your pets, and then you kill them when they aren’t fast or strong enough because you enjoy this. But you’re obviously skilled enough to make horrors without using people.” Erick gestured toward the monsters, asking, “So why do you do this? Do you hate the world? Do you simply wish to cause lasting harm? I don’t think you actually do wish to cause true harm, for these people here seem to like you. Or have you soul scoured them into loving you like fanatics?”

One of the green men rushed the fence at the edge of the garden, shouting, “You leave him alone! He’s a good guy!”

Hollowsaur glared at the smaller man. No audible words were exchanged, but the man went back to work, tending to the eye-bull.

“I don’t control my people like that, Erick.” Hollowsaur turned toward Erick. “I turned those invaders back into people. They’re still partially cows. That’s never going to change. So congratulations on inventing a new form of sapient life. They’re your responsibility now.”

“Ah.” Erick nodded. “The minotaurs. Glad to hear they’re okay. I’ll have to go check on them later.”

Hollowsaur scrunched his face. “The what?”

“You stole Jane’s laptop. Those words are in there.” Erick said, “Anyway. I hope they won’t have long lasting health, social, or soul problems because of what you did.”

“They’re more stable than incani souls.” Hollowsaur sneered. “But when the world tries to kill them, that’s on you.”

Erick smiled. “I’m sure you’ve done well. Hopefully, you never have to do such awful things ever again.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Hollowsaur said, “You sound like Priestess and you’re pissing me off, and my birds, too.”

Erick saw as the lightning-fire owls flapped and puffed in his direction, and as the fox on the other side of the field regarded him. Erick said, “Very well, Hollowsaur. See you tomorrow at the Second Telling.”

– – – –

Three streets closer to Quilatalap’s apartment, Fallopolis asked, “What was the point of that?”

“I’m not sure.”

Fallopolis smirked. “Okay?” She added, “Also, you named those cow people something special, didn’t you?”

“You guys didn’t already have myths about cow people?” Erick said, “There’re shifters everywhere. Are some of them not cow shifters?”

“Nope!” Fallopolis said, “Wolf, owl, and snake. Three kinds. And I’d hardly consider one out of every thousand random people to be ‘everywhere’. Shifters are rather rare.” She said, “So tell me: how prominent is this word you just used to describe these cow-people? Was it anything close to ‘Reincarnation’?”

Erick scrunched his face. “Not at all. But that brings up something I’ve been wanting to ask. Magic and language; how connected are they?”

“Deeper than the deepest Darkness. It could be said that without language, there could be no magic.” Fallopolis said, “It’s widely believed that the Ancient Script of the Script is a bastardization of Holy Thought, brought down to Veird, and wrapped in chains of soul and wrought. What we tap into when we attempt to enchant, is both what others have carved out of the Script, and a real bastardization of actual magic. True Magic and True Enchanted Items never fade; like dreams written down so that you can know of them beyond the few moments past waking. But everything fades away under the Script.”

“And that’s another thing!” Erick asked, “How are you guys able to make artifacts so easily? That Mini Box is something my Jane has been after since we fell to Veird. A portable storage unit. It wasn’t till recently that I began to think of doing the same thing but with [Gate] magic.” He added, “You know… Eventually.”

Fallopolis shook her head. “Artifacts are not easy to make. The Script gradually… I should start at the beginning. Whatever enchanting ideas you’ve been fed are likely wrong.”

“Let’s get back to the house, and we can talk.” Erick said, “I want to make lunch, anyway.”

Fallopolis smiled. “I will take you up on that offer!”

– – – –

Erick knew what awaited him inside the house, before he opened the front door.

Quilatalap was already there, already in the kitchen and making lunch, while the four adventurers sat at the table, looking much like lemons were on the menu; a little bit pissed, sad, and angry, at the same time. Rather silent, too.

And then Erick opened the door and walked inside. The adventurers instantly locked eyes with him.

Quilatalap just said, “Hey, Erick,” as he busied himself in the kitchen kneading some pasta, or making bread; Erick wasn’t sure. He had already put together some sort of cheese sauce that was currently simmering on the stove.

Erick said, “Hello, Quilatalap.” He stepped in further, saying, “Hello,” to the four people he would need to help survive the Converter Angel. Or something. He still wasn’t quite sure how that was going to work out.

Fallopolis grinned wide, silently watching, as she filed in behind Erick and waited for something more to happen. She was enjoying this, for sure.

Erick said, “I was going to make lunch, if you wanted. I can make it for all of us.”

Quilatalap just smiled a little, then said, “I got it. I’m making cheese pasta. Instead of that, why don’t you talk to these guys, first? Tania seemed serious about having them at the Second Telling, so I thought it best to get that problem out of the way, now. They’ve been talking about you amongst themselves for two months now.”

Fallopolis said, “Oh! Spoilsport! Just look at them.” She said, “I’m not one for Tania’s plots, but it would have been so much fun to see them at the Second Telling, without a private introduction. More Shades could have died.”

Erick grumbled, as he stared at Fallopolis, hoping that she could leave for a while.

Fallopolis smiled wider, and said, “I’m not leaving. This is pure drama! The fate of nations! The plight of planets! Or at least the plight of poor people in those places.” She teased, “Watch out now! Skorka might try to kill you by switching out the salt shaker!”

“I will not,” Skorka said, as her red eyes locked on Erick’s, telling a different story.

Fallopolis stepped, her feet flashing shadows, and suddenly she was sitting on the couch, across the room. Every single adventurer casually turned toward her. There was a moment of heaviness at the Shade’s open use of potentially hostile magics. And then it was gone.

Fallopolis told the adventurers, “Good reaction! No immediate violence. Nice dilatation of those eyes. But you: Blue.” Fallopolis eyed the blue woman, saying, “You turned on some physical skill. That could be taken as a sign of desire to fight. Around Shades, your only real shields are either propriety, or vulnerability.”

Erick eyed the adventurers, and went over their names in his head. The red man, Rexx, was an Assassin. The magenta woman, Idolizia, was a Hunter. The blue woman, Caizoa, was a Juggernaut. The white woman, Skorka, was their Cook. Skorka was responsible for enacting the plan that poisoned and killed off the rest of their remaining party…

And there were too many new names today. This was not mentally exhausting, but it was emotionally exhausting. Erick had just upended a local crime syndicate not two hours ago, after all.

Caizoa, the Juggernaut, said, “A defensive skill, to prevent the likes of you from running over us like a raging wyrm.”

“Oh! Baby, darling, honey, sweetcake.” Fallopolis lightly said, “Don’t challenge a Shade to prove they’re better than you. You wouldn’t like the obvious outcome.” She offhandedly complained to whoever would listen, saying, “Children these days! Did you not even read the codes of conduct for entering Kendrithyst? Such shame.”

Skorka put a hand to Caizoa, preventing the woman from rising from her chair, as Skorka said, “Our Caizoa is the idiot of the group. Pay her no mind.”

Caizoa glared at Skorka, but there was more embarrassment in her look than any real heat.

“I was already doing so, dear, but here’s some advice for you: don’t tell a Shade what to do. They’ll go out of their way to fuck you over.” Fallopolis magnanimously said, “You four are going to experience a lot more shit till you get out of here with your Black Star. Best be better than who you are!”

“Your advice is acceptable.” Skorka asked, “When can we leave?”

Quilatalap said, “As soon as the barrier is down. 7 more days.”

Professionally, Skorka said, “We will not last that long if we are to be paraded out in front of the… The Clergy, time and again. I ask that we be allowed to leave Brightwater, and to take refuge in the open city beyond.”

Fallopolis tilted her head. “No. You’d die out there, for sure.”

Skorka barely kept the glare out of her eyes, as she asked, “Why?”

Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Fallopolis said, “Because I’d kill you myself, take that Black Star, and shove it at Erick.”

While the four adventurers glared from the Shade to Erick, Erick just sighed, Quilatalap paused his kneading for a moment, before continuing, and Fallopolis looked like a cat who got the cream.

Erick said at Fallopolis, “Why.”

With exuberance, Fallopolis said, “To start this show off right! Tania is already planning on—”

“Are you really doing this, Fallopolis?” Quilatalap asked.

“Yes, we are doing this! It’s already happening, my fine dead friend! Tania killed two Shades this morning!” Fallopolis continued talking at Quilatalap, undaunted, “All the smart ones know what is happening, and all the dumb dumbs are decidedly dead.” Fallopolis gave a wild smile, as she continued, “And these four can either fall in line, or fall apart. Besides! All they wanted was for the Converter Angel to die, right? Give Erick the Black Star, and that problem solves itself!”

“I’m not going on a killing spree, Fallopolis.” Erick said, as he sat down on an empty couch, facing the rest of them.

“You really could, though.” Fallopolis kindly said, “And I’d help.”

Skorka said, “We don’t want to get involved—”

“Shush.” Fallopolis shot them a look. “The adults are talking.”

Skorka continued anyway, “And we refuse to allow the Black Star to fall into the hands of an archmage, anyway. It’s ours, by right of trial, and we will see that Angel evicted from this world before it can do any more damage.”

“Oh?” Fallopolis, partially mad, went suddenly intrigued. She asked, “It’s not the human-thing that concerns you? It’s the unkillable archmage? That’s interesting… I wonder why.” Casually, and in a way that no one thought was actually casual, she asked, “Have you been talking to Tania already? Or was it Bulgan?”

While their Juggernaut paled to a brighter shade of blue, the other three tried not to give away the game at all. They failed. They were very good at it, though. Erick could barely tell that Skorka knew the most of all of them. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew; but he did.

Erick looked directly at Skorka. She looked at him. Erick asked, “Did one of them want you to kill me?” Erick instantly zeroed in on the assassin; Rexx. “Why?”

No one spoke. Rex activated some sort of Skill; his breathing evened out as he calmed, completely, and began to sit there, same as before, but now with a mask to his features, and an average beat to his heart.

Without turning from the adventurers, Fallopolis offered, “Tania wants Erick dead now?”

Confusion, all around, except for Rexx. His entire body was still a mask.

After a moment, Erick said, “No… That’s not it. Maybe Tania or Bulgan weren’t involved, yet?” Erick realized, saying, “It was another Shade. But who?”

“… Perhaps.” Fallopolis said, “Likely, in any case. So who was it? Are you four kids connected to one of us? Oh. That got a reaction.” It had. Caizoa, the blue Juggernaut, gave away that secret. Fallopolis waited a beat, and when no one spoke, she said, “I’m going to throw out some names. Here goes: Silverite—”

Not one of the adventurers had any emotions.

Erick openly balked. “What?”

Fallopolis glanced at Erick, saying, “It’s a long list! I can probably do this without you, but you might want to know going forward. So hush, and let me do my Quick Interrogation!” She pointed at Rexx. “And you. Stop that. It’s a crutch. That [Stilled Body] does you more harm than good, because not only does it prevent you from developing real skill, if you don’t stop, there’s going to be some physical harm done to you, right now.”

Quilatalap said, “Fallopolis. Do not harm my guests.”

Fallopolis mouthed, ‘Killjoy’.

Skorka spoke up, “We wish to go back into stasis until this is over. We have a goal, and it has nothing to do with whatever is going on with you all.”

Quilatalap said, “If I put you in storage, you’ll likely die.” He said, “I saw the look in Tania’s eyes. I can’t tell exactly what she wanted, but she has something planned, and it will likely involve you. So if you’re not there to participate, then you will die.”

The women adventurers went silent. The man, Rexx, was still operating under the power of his Skill.

“Fine! I’ll continue the interrogation normally. Bah!” Fallopolis rattled off, “Viscount Andro Helix, of Frontier… No. Pirazel Xelxex, of Kal’Duresh… Looks like a no. North, Old Kingdom, Swamptown, Delta, the Wall… Oh. Old Kingdom. Yes. House Blue. House Tourniquet. King Rashi. Oh. There’s something. House Ribbon— House Ribbon! But not all of you. Skorka. House Ribbon. Yes.”

Erick watched her do it, keeping up with the names that were new to him, and watching as her words sent ripples through the Adventurers. They reacted to a lot more than just ‘Old Kingdom’, though— Oh.

Erick frowned at Fallopolis, saying, “They’ve been inside the Armory for two months. You already knew all this. Are you doing this to prove something to me?”

“No no.” Fallopolis said, “Well. Yes. I knew the basics of where they came from, but this business of not wanting to hook up with you is very odd. They’re from Swamptown, Erick. So why did they react to ‘Old Kingdom’ so much? That’s what gives me pause. That, and that you’re already contracted to help kill the Converter Angel, and the New Demons know this, so these people should know this, too. So why not use you? When you searched and found those hunters, after they ran? That was worldwide news! You’d be nothing but a help to these people. So. This reluctance is an unexpected phenomenon, and Tania must have caught on to that, too.

“What I just pinged off were the larger Kingdoms of the Wasteland, and I wanted to see where the discrepancies led, for myself. Old Kingdom is a very old operating area for almost every Shade who has ever gone through that place.” She turned back to the adventurers, and started naming Shades. “Cludolphis, Farix, Goldie, Queen, Perri, Rodel, Skyhook… None of these? Odd.”

Erick came to the same conclusion, mostly.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

Fallopolis said, “Let’s get weird, then. Strain, Mallor, Natis, Gora, Anopix— Aha! Anopix! OF COURSE it’s that one. But I had to go through the other options first, to get a baseline, you know.”

Three adventurers flinched, in tiny, barely visible ways, as Fallopolis spoke of Anopix. Rexx did not. He was still under the influence of his Skill.

Fallopolis smiled, asking anyone, “Is that why Tania killed Anopix today?”

Their reactions were much larger, that time. Much larger. Skorka breathed deep. The other three, even Rexx, seemed to deflate, ever so slightly. Caizoa’s eyes went wide, and wet, as anger washed across her face, and she whispered denials to herself.

Skorka simply said, “Shit.”

Fallopolis triumphantly declared, “You need to pick a new route if you want to go forward with your plans! That one is closed, my sweets! Anopix is deader than the Old Cosmology!” She gestured to Erick, saying, “Here’s a route. Pretty good one, too. With the Black Star on his chest, he can kill all the Shades and then move on to the Converter Angel.”

Skorka said, “I will not give absolute power to a human.”

“Ah!” Fallopolis laughed, then said, “It IS the human-thing! Good old racism! Pops up where you least expect it!”

“I don’t want that Star.” Erick said, “And I will not accept it.”

Fallopolis’s face fell a fraction. “But it’s such a good solution! Everyone wins!”

Erick was still thinking of the bodies on the playground, as he said, “I don’t think I can kill anyone today.”

“Okay okay. Fine fine.” Fallopolis said, “Tomorrow, then. Nothing has to happen right now!”

No one spoke. The adventurers glared at Erick, or at Fallopolis. Caizoa silently glared at the table in front of her, hot tears rolling down her face. Quilatalap silently rolled pasta into sheets, and moments passed in relative silence.

Erick said, “I’d like to know more about Anopix.”

Caizoa’s face shot up to stare at Erick.

Fallopolis asked, “How much do you know of the Opalice Kingdom, and the Scaled Horns?”

Erick said, “The Opalice Empire are the people who broke the Lori Dukedom, while the Scaled Horns were the ones that tried to push for dragonkin inclusion into higher offices in the Greensoil Republic. The two events happened at roughly the same time on opposite sides of Glaquin.” Erick thought a bit more, and added, “When the Opalice Empire was destroyed and the remnants became the Wasteland Kingdoms, meanwhile, over in the Greensoil Republic, the Scaled Union was radicalized into the Scaled horns…” He asked Fallopolis. “The Opalice Empire was a nation of Script-haters. Was that you?”

Fallopolis said, “I know for an undeniable fact that the Clergy did not cause the fall of the Lori Dukedom. They were controlled, and we liked them that way.”

“Yeah. Right. A land as old and as stable as the Lori Dukedom suddenly falls to anti-Script rhetoric and you expect me to think you guys weren’t involved?”