Chapter 215: Vizim.

Disguised Viv leaned against the railing, studying the sailors as they climbed ropes and jumped deftly from the main deck to the secondary hulls. The catamaran she was on was fast, impressively so, though there wasn’t much cargo space if her cramped quarters were any indication. Despite the pleasant feeling of the wind whipping through her hair and the overall sunny weather, her travel companions were not enjoying themselves. They wore grim expressions and talked in low voices, backs bent, hands grasping, eyes lost in dark memories.

 

Her host was taking his role as a guide with a seriousness that bordered on the obsessive. When he wasn’t on the deck giving orders, he was giving her etiquette lessons.

 

“Vizimiran women of your station join their hands in front of them when standing at rest,” he explained on the second day. “As for lying down, it should not happen in view of others. For sitting, keep your back straight unless you are on a high back chair — those are rare outside of negotiations. Also, avert crossing your legs under any circumstances.”

 

Viv’s default standing position was ‘menacingly’ and her sitting one was ‘on the damn throne’ so those were invaluable pieces of information, but the more in depth the captain went and the more Viv smelled a rat. On the third day, she cornered him before the lesson could begin.

 

“You are hiding something,” she accused.

 

“I am hiding many things, but none that would hurt you,” he said with apparent confidence.

 

“We’re supposed to sail directly to Sandsong. There is no need for me to hide who I am with such diligence if we are in friendly territory. Even if the guards suspect me of being a spy, you, as the queen’s uncle, can just wave them off. Tell me the truth. Now.”

 

He broke down in shame the same instant.

 

“I did not mean to deceive you. When I said this was the storm season, I’m afraid I did not convey how dangerous they are. We avoided such a storm when we left. It is in full swing now.”

 

Viv frowned. The weather outside was windy and wet, but only thick white clouds sometimes blocked the autumn sun.

 

“This is my path. I know the weather. Trust me.”

 

“So we will make landfall somewhere else?”

 

“Yes? How did you know?” he asked, a bit surprised.

 

Viv rolled her eyes.

 

“Well obviously you’re training me to go unnoticed so I assume we’ll be crossing neutral ground..”

 

“It would take two weeks for the storm to fade. We cannot afford such a delay.”

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“Ravinport. A neutral city, not too far from our kingdom. It will be another week before we can travel through the Salt Mountains to the middle cities where the royal army camps. I was not certain of the storm’s location when we departed, Your Grace. That is why I didn’t want to alarm you.”

 

“So you were planning on, what, letting me know at the last moment?”

 

He looked embarrassed.

 

“In a way, yes. I would have warned you once the storm was in full view so you would not find the change of direction suspicious. We will approach it before heading east anyway, Your Grace. I apologize for the deception. I assure you —”

 

Viv dismissed his explanations with a wave of her hand. She wasn’t really mad. He hadn’t lied so much as waited until he was sure before informing her of the situation all while preparing her for ‘the worst’. The spark of luck was also pulsing brightly in her soul so there was no way she would have just reached the dragon unimpeded. The last time she’d expected a straight trip to her destination, that had ended up in a half flooded tunnel feeding into a cannibal farm so… at least they wouldn’t get shipwrecked.

 

Viv immediately knocked on wood before that slippery thought doomed them all.

 

“Is something the matter?” the captain asked, twirling his mustache with concern.

 

“Tell me more about Ravinport.”

 

“Well, my family was originally from that place. I was hoping we could talk to my eldest son, Sin. He is a Janar, a knight.”

 

“He is not in Sandsong?”

 

“From my first marriage,” Captain Kass said, and it was clear there was a story there. “He might not be… disposed to listening to me. He is, after all, a talented blade master of high status. And no thanks to me.”

 

Viv leaned forward.

 

“And you want to talk to him because…”

 

“His help against the dragon could be invaluable,” the man said as he started to sweat heavily. “No lies, Your Grace, I swear! He is divine with a saber! Some say he is Eron the Dragonslayer’s true heir!”

 

Viv had heard that one before. Well, they’d see. Blade masters actually worked well with mages like her mostly because she could cast much more easily without someone in her face actively trying to pull her innards through her belly button. When Solar or Solfis took the brunt of someone else’s attention, it was a much easier and more relaxed battle. Usually.

 

Actually that would be the third in-your-face warrior protecting her whose name started with an S. Maybe there was a pattern? Well, she had to recruit him first.

 

“Very well. Let us see this Ravinport you speak of.”

 

“May I suggest… a bit more practice, Your Grace?”

 

Viv was informed she was supposed to let the men speak if granted the honor of sitting at their table. So Vizim wasn’t exactly as bad as Enoria but it still wasn’t a very nice place to be a woman in. The exceptions were casters — as always — and noble women who chose a martial path. Strangely, they were just considered dudes who happened to be women, and they were expected to find someone to take care of their children while they returned to the front. It was an interesting piece of trivia Viv filed to the back of her mind alongside the proper way to serve tea and which Viziman pet it was considered acceptable for her to own. The medallion offered by the Sandsong royal couple presented her as an artisan as well so she used some free time to brush up on enchantments. The patient art of carving and animating runes was a relaxing activity she’d taken as a hobby because it was good practice and also because the One Hundred now had spears that could punch through steel plates. She was confident that, as far as transparent mana was concerned, she was one of the very best. It was still good to work on her fundamentals with pieces of gear and weapons the crew was happy to lend her. It wasn’t every day that one could get free enchantments done by an empress.

 

The promised storm came into view three days later as they were well on their way to their destination. The Opportunity was insanely fast for such a large ship — it was honestly impressive. Viv watched the curtain of clouds covering the horizon with that ominous quality that seemed to dim the light around it, while Captain Kass argued with her over accents.

 

“That is not the proper pronunciation,” he politely noted.

 

“It’s not in Vizim, but it is in Zazas. They have idiosyncrasies such as adding ‘oh’ at the end of a sentence for emphasis, or swallowing the middle syllable in ‘shehrlem’.”

 

“But…”

 

“What is more important?” Viv finally asked. “That I do not attract attention at all, or that I match the character I pretend to be? There is no way for me not to look like a stranger, so I need to be a consistent stranger. One who matches the Viziman’s opinion of northern Param women.”

 

“Vizimans look down upon them. We call them barbaric,” the captain mentioned.

 

Viv got the implication. It might lead to poor reactions.

 

“I’m not infiltrating the city to get information, Kass, I am passing through with a cover story.”

 

Hell, she’d stayed disguised the entire trip just to get used to it. It had worked to an extent. The crew now treated her as an honored guest, talking to her in the northern tongue like she was only slightly above them in station. It was a stark difference compared to the terrified first hours. Truly, appearances mattered.

 

The captain conceded the point. Viv still had a lot to learn, however, and so the lessons continued.

***

When the sandy beaches and pleasant cove of Ravinport came into view, Viv sent a quick prayer to luck as a thank you for not smashing her ride against some rock after a massive kraken battle like she half expected. She didn’t thank Emeric though. That rank fucker had nothing to do with her own fortune. He merely rode his own to success or an entertaining failure, bless his stranded ass. God of Luck? What a hilarious joke. He was a lucky god, nothing more. Nevertheless, as Viv watched the noon sun reflect on the white roofs of the town coming into view, she realized it was only delayed gratification on luck’s part. The ‘Viv malarkey specials’ segment was well and truly arrayed before her eyes in the presence of the Sheem.

 

Now the Sheem had been part of multiple intel briefings back home because they were the major power in the fragmented clown fiesta that was Vizim’s international community. They were the kind of people who had risen to power two hundred years before on the back of a revolution, naming themselves after a small rapacious bird to show they were the underdogs. Since then, they’d become the normal post-purge expansionist kingdom that had nothing left of their old dreams except a cynical approach to propaganda only equaled by Earth’s corporate juggernauts. Viv had been convinced they were assholes the moment she’d heard of them and every report had confirmed her in her opinion. There were currently two warships moored in Ravinport’s cozy bay, and they both bore the red eagle of Sheem. She could see the beak-nosed helmets of their soldiers patrolling the white-tiled piers as well. Not a great many, but just the fact it was allowed was a major problem. One the captain didn’t fail to understand if the many swear words coming from under his mustache was any indication. Viv used a subtle long view spell to get a closer look. It was acceptable for her to perform colorless spells in public, so long as the mana drain was minor. It was obvious that they’d been spotted. The Sheem were growing more agitated, some rushing under the deck.

 

“Should we veer away?” she asked.

 

“The Ravinport flag still floats over the keep,” Kass replied.

 

Viv had another gander at the city. At first glance, it was large enough for a few thousand people and gave her a Greek island vibe: beautiful and almost scenic in the way the large houses merged with the slope of a gentle hill, each building placed to match the rock and not its neighbor. That faded away after only a few seconds. Those brown splotches half-hidden in the surrounding lush forest were not trunks: they were the visible part of a shanty, a layer of rot under the pristine appearance. Viv didn’t judge though. This was just the local flavor of poverty. More interesting was the keep overlooking the city, only different from the many rich houses due to its size. It used the same white stone and the same flat roofs otherwise. Even the walls were as decorative as they were presumably functional. A simple blue flag with two yellow dots floated over it. No birds, thank fuck. Yet.

 

Viv had another look. Warriors in white and blue uniform patrolled the upper streets as a mirror to the Sheem-controlled port side. They appeared to be more numerous. Viv couldn’t be sure.

 

“Yeah but I think the ships might be here for you,” Viv still added. “There are officers on deck looking at you right now.”

 

And indeed there was a commotion. Local soldiers also left a large seaside building along with a man wearing enough shiny metal and colorful fabric to mark him as important. Viv walked back from the railing, taking on a more submissive position.

 

“Do I land here or not? You must decide.”

 

“Land here, please. Our time may be short. I will… find a way to distract them. Listen, if we are separated, find my son, Sin. He will be with the city’s Janar. Watch out for the local lords. You cannot trust them.”

 

“Will your son help me?”

 

“I hope so…”

 

Viv could have asked about what sort of bullshit answer that was, but instead she went below deck to her small corner of the ship to grab her pack. It was a simple if large thing that was not even enchanted. In it, she had money, clothes — all simple dresses a person like her could afford except for a marginally fancier one, sundries, and a basic inscribing kit she could use to justify her arcanist path. Without her crown or her focus she felt a little bereft, but nothing too traumatic. Even the potion belt she kept for emergencies — since life spells basically did nothing — was an acceptable loss — she could always get more here. The thing that she missed the most was, weirdly, her shield. By now it was completely unbalanced, unwieldy, and more welded on signs than the original steel but it was still solid, it was still reliable, and it was definitely hers — a collection of all her achievements, really. When magic hadn’t been enough, the shield had protected her like it was meant to. It was ok, she told herself, she would get it back when she returned.

 

The Opportunity slowed down. It was time. Viv walked to the deck to see a couple of other sailors who had changed clothes to look richer. They had some luggage with them. She wondered what it was all about.

 

Captain Kass moored his ship with a level of control Viv would have thought impossible. The hull came to rest near a pier while at the same moment, a gangplank was lowered to rest on the stone with nary a scrap. The captain was the first to come down. He strode down the plank with an imperious step, every bit the confident commander. One of the two sailors ushered Viv forward with a quiet gesture. He really looked like a young nobleman now. Curious, she inspected him.

 

[Heir of the Barony]

 

Huh.

 

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

He must have felt her because he winked. Damn, but she was completely out of touch with all the cloak and dagger stuff. Her style was… different for sure.

 

Viv walked down the gangplank after the false heir, then stopped next to the captain as he argued with the Important Person who’d come to ‘welcome’ them. Several guards with spears stood at attention, curtailing them but also keeping the red ranks of the Sheem away. The beaky fuckers stayed at a reasonable distance, though here they outnumbered the blue guards. There was a peppering of patrols up and down the quay. Citizens were quietly walking into shops and taverns at a savvy pace. Viv couldn’t blame them.

 

She quietly stood by the captain alongside the other two fake travelers. She averted her eyes and took on the default posture while fully aware that the guards were inspecting her from hair to toe, with and without their skills. She wasn’t even mad, or tempted to defy them. It was just all so exciting because it was not just new, there were stakes. If she got found out, then the Sheem would attack immediately, causing the death of many Sandsong people. It was a contest, and she intended to win it.

 

Viv crushed the thought that she might have invited Irao as a precaution. He was not just needed back home, it was also like trying to sneak in a powder store and bringing a flamethrower for safety. She remembered the fucking golem buckets.

 

“While I understand your precautions, I must ask that you at least allow my passengers to leave the ship, as I promised to deliver them safe and sound.”

 

The city official gave all three ‘passengers’ a thorough look. Viv felt the nudge of an inspection skill brushing her soul, but the necklace must have worked because the man spent much more time glaring at the two fake noblemen than at her.

 

“Very well. They may stay… in custody until they prove their identity!” the man bleated with a tremulous voice that carried all the way to the Sheem.

 

He and the captain talked a little more in that loud voice that was meant as much for each other as for the people around. Viv listened with some attention though she also used the opportunity to look around. The streets were almost empty except for armed men by now, some of whom were not in uniform. The official was preventing the captain from getting down on suspicion of smuggling (no surprise), yet at the same time he was protecting him. Viv also noted that the two Sheem warships were preparing to raise anchor. It was going to be a bit of a problem.

 

Viv followed the official once he was done posturing. They traveled up the narrow streets past the locked gates of affluent estates. The smell of flowers and wet vegetation saturated her nose, yet it was also mixed with the scents of humanity. In this case, it was piss. They didn’t have the kind of advanced sewer system Sinur’s Gate claimed. More guards watched them pass by, some in white and blue, others in the liveries of local notables. It told Viv of a rather fragmented local authority which was always a bad sign.

 

The small squad finally reached the keep. It looked defensible enough, but it was also clearly more a last resort bastion than a real fortress. There was nowhere near enough room for the local population to hide in, even if they were to stand next to each other. The inner courtyard had stables, and two mages in gray turbans. They watched her with more attention than they gave her companions.

 

They were Viziman gray mages. Harrakan files called them ‘screechers’ although it was derogatory and reflected the fact the Viziman navies had handed Harrak their own asses the few times they’d met in battle. They used sound based tricks that she had never seen in person. Right now, she was letting off some transparent mana in a polite, ‘I’m warning you I’m here’ sort of way. It would reveal her as someone with great control but little reserves which was what an arcanist was supposed to be. She nodded as greeting before lowering her eyes and it was enough to be dismissed again.

 

Before entering, a glint in the sun caught her eyes. Camouflaged behind a wood panel, on a side tower, was a ballista. It looked heavily enchanted. It appeared the locals were more prepared to face hostilities than she’d first assumed.

 

The escort brought them to a small waiting hall centered around a long, low table. Men and women in worker garbs were drinking tea on well-worn cushions. The official gestured, and Viv found herself pulled by the arm towards a corner of the room by a guard who then waited around with half-assed attention. Another sailor was kept standing under strict guard while the third was led farther into the compound.

 

Viv sat on one of the cushions since that’s where she was. The locals spared her a curious glance before returning to hushed conversations. Soon, the guard she was with took a few steps to the side to discuss with a maid. A kindly old woman brought her a cup of something warm. Viv accepted gracefully.

 

“You’re alright, young lady?” the woman asked with an amused smile.

 

She had used a familiar term normally used for the mistress of a house. It was a sign of respect, one that Viv reciprocated.

 

“I hope so, grandmother. I really do.”

 

“Oh don’t let old man Dar scare you. If he had any bite in him, the Sheem would be out on their butts,” she claimed.

 

The nearby guard frowned but decided, after a measuring glare, that it wasn’t worth his time. It told Viv that the kind old woman was significantly more important than her simple dress suggested.

 

“You’re a traveler, yes? From the south?” her host asked.

 

“Yes, from Zazas.”

 

Viv offered a short, polite bow. It was the neutral kind used when one was not sure of the other person’s status but wished to be polite nonetheless. It made the old woman smile.

 

“I’m an arcanist,” Viv offered.

 

“Oh you are too modest. I can tell you are on the third step — an impressive achievement at your age! You’re here to work?”

 

“I have been requested, yes, although I was also asked not to share by whom.”

 

“You don’t have to,” the old woman replied. “You came here in old Kass’ ship, and the Sandsong are in dire need of some powerful weapon, hmmm? Don’t worry about a thing, darling. You’ll be fine.”

 

She left without ceremony which was a little abrupt, but then a younger maid came bearing a smile and a plate of biscuits so all in all, it was a positive first interaction. Viv just hoped she wouldn’t get poisoned.

 

The second fake noble was soon brought in with much protest which left Viv alone with a bored guard. A short trip to the lavatories revealed nothing of interest, only that the place was tense and its people worried. It took another ten minutes for her to be called forward. The guard left her through a series of narrow corridors towards a central room with so little care she could have slipped away by simply walking in the other direction. Like the rest of the keep, the ‘throne room’ felt oppressively narrow. Five people were waiting for her there.

 

The guard locked the door behind her.

 

This time, Viv gave her best curtsy. Two of the men were Janar, elite knights of Vizim. They both wore studded armor and sabers shining with enchantments that Viv recognized well. There was also a bored screecher mage who barely spared her a glance. Those were the usual retinue of someone pretty important everywhere: the intimidators, and the arcane bullshit experts. Viv would have used the same formula were she not also the intimidator and arcane bullshit expert herself. As for the important man, he was sitting on a platform, on a folding chair that didn’t look very comfortable. Enchantments engraved in the rock protected him from assassination attempts, which was a nice touch. They looked a bit flimsy though. He wore an even larger turban and even more gold than the customs dude, making him, without doubt, the head honcho. Thus her curtsy. The last person present was Bad News: it was a Sheem man in red robes with some casting ability given the focus wand hanging from his waist. He had a long, well-oiled beard and the hooked nose Viv had seen on Wamiri. Viv would have cast him as Jaffar in an Aladdin live action within fifteen seconds of meeting. He was just perfect as the darkly charismatic evil vizier.

 

One of the Janar addressed Viv with impressive solemnity. It was even more shocking when she realized his mustache and voice were familiar.

 

“You stand before the great Dar, Lord of Ravinport by the grace of the Council of First Families, Flame of the East, The Builder, may Sardanal bless him. Bow.”

 

Viv bowed again which was received in silence. The mage sighed. His Boredom the great Dar was the first to speak with obvious annoyance.

 

“And her, dear Kit, is she also a dangerous and seditious element I should immediately throw in prison?” he asked.

 

‘You have no fucking idea,’ Viv thought to herself.

 

It was a bit of a struggle not to smile. Fortunately, only one of the Janar was still looking at her.