Chapter 112 – Unraveling the Conspiracy

Celine was still jumpy when they arrived at the Bard and Lion Inn, but the bright glyph lamps and soothing warmth and aromas from the kitchen seemed to calm her down.

Mirian waited until she had a hot cup of tea to wrap her hands around, then finally asked, “Who was Philus?”

The journalist was silent for a while, then finally said, “A secretary of the Palendurio Guard.”

So they are corrupt, Mirian thought. “And he discovered something.”

“Yes. Dozens of missing armor sets, accounted for in the inventory, but missing from the armory. He informed his superiors, but they’ve been dragging their feet. So he came to me.”

The armor is then given to the other group. So the Palendurio Guard’s corruption may be as minor as taking bribes—but they must know that it would be used for impersonation.

“It… it seemed like a minor story. A good one, but… I can’t believe…”

“It’s part of something much, much bigger,” Mirian said. “Is there anything else you know?”

Celine sat there, holding her mug of tea. Finally, she shook her head. “I mean, I can give you the names of his superiors, who he reported the missing armor to.”

She wrote the names in her journal. “You can stay here, I’d just use a false name,” Mirian said. “Also I’ve been warding up the place. Don’t tell the owner that. Here. Some gold to take care of you. Please don’t speak of me to anyone. The less I’m noticed, the more effective I’ll be.”

***

Hamel was already dead. She’d thought his assassination was related to Celine’s, but she’d have to spend another cycle to save him. Mirian started scouring the newspaper for any more suspicious deaths, digging up old broadsheets from the archives in the Great Library. There were two more journalists and four others who had died of heart attacks or in their beds at night, but those deaths had come well before the time loop started.

The wands appeared to attack the soul directly at the heart, causing the damage to bleed through into the body. The formula was surprisingly simple, and from context, she was able to deduce a new rune from the wand, one that seemed to denote a coordinate inside the body, much like how the glyph system used coordinates.

The resonance signature of the rune seemed quite similar to a heartfire salamander. The salamander’s heart was its spell-organ, and the source of the flames it could exude. That its soul was used to mark a coordinate that matched the location of the heart made a sort of sense to her. Arenthia’s lessons on modifying the soul caused changes on its surface, but it also made sense there would be runes that could modify the inner workings.

And yet, Mirian thought, the void in my soul is where my heart is. Yet my heart is unharmed. Somehow, something is in there, but the damage doesn’t transfer to my body. What does that imply?

On the 20th, Mirian waited in the canals below the embassy. She used detect life again, which was fast becoming her favorite spell. The ability to see souls moving even through solid stone was incredibly useful.

Sure enough, the same hour that the Akanan guards had all vanished from their patrols, she found those same guards coming down through a secret passage to a waiting boat. They had with them several people, including a man dressed in very fine clothes. Is that the Ambassador? she wondered. So he has enough contacts to know about the attack. But he’s reported as killed, isn’t he?

Six guards all armed with combat wands were too many for her to be confident in taking, so she simply watched from the shadows as they hid him in a crate, donned disguises that made them look like laborers, then started paddling through the canals towards the river. The disguises were atrocious; sure, they were dressed like laborers, but they moved with the coordination and alertness of a military unit.

Mirian watched them go, then made her way back up to the surface. There, she levitated over the gate and used force blast to shatter one of the second story windows.

No alarm sounded.

Already disabled, Mirian guessed.

She wandered around. It was still early morning before sunrise, so everyone who hadn’t fled was asleep. The Ambassador’s room was easy enough to find. The doors were locked, but she broke them open. At first, there appeared to be a man sleeping in the large bed there, but when she went over to check, she could see the truth: there was a corpse, lying there, nicely tucked in.

“Who the fuck are you?” said a woman’s voice behind her. She was speaking Eskanar.

“The Akanan Embassy is scheduled to be attacked later today,” Mirian replied, also in Eskanar. She turned to face the woman. “The Ambassador seems to have known. But I guess he didn’t care to inform you all.”

The woman was still wearing her nightclothes, which meant she’d just woken up. Her piercing blue eyes looked absolutely terrified. She was holding a wand pointed at Mirian. “W-what… what? I warn you, I know how to use this.”

“Come take a look,” Mirian said, ignoring the threat.

Cautiously, the woman did. “Oh God,” she said, then vomited on the carpet. Hastily, she wiped it away and pointed the wand at Mirian again.

“Where are the guards? Why is the alarm disabled?” Mirian asked.

“I don’t… he said… he said he was feeling ill, and not to disturb him tomorrow. Today. Oh God.” The woman rushed to the window. “Where are the guards?”

“My name’s Micael,” Mirian said. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. Can you help me?”

***

The woman’s name was Kathera, and Mirian had watched her die in the streets last cycle. The Ambassador had shredded his files, but several cabinets of diplomatic communiques hadn’t been moved or tampered with. Likely, the Ambassador hadn’t used official communications to record his part in the conspiracy, but Mirian hoped he’d missed something, and had just assumed it would all be destroyed in the fire.

Kathera had helped organize the embassy staff who’d been left to die, and together, they piled the cabinets onto a hired carriage. With the guards gone and the wards disabled, the only thing that had been binding them was their loyalty. With the corpse body-double to show them, it was no problem to convince them, then to evacuate well before the fake Palendurio Guards arrived.

Not really sure where else to go with nearly two dozen people, Mirian brought them to Celine’s ransacked building, and they set up next to the destroyed printing press.

“I’ll ward the area. If you need me to return immediately, just step on this glyph right here,” Mirian told Kathera, gesturing to a basic ward she’d scribed on the floor. “I’ll send Celine over, and she can help go through the records. I know she’s trustworthy because they already tried to assassinate her. Look especially at communications with anyone in the Corrmier family.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

When she made to leave, Kathera said, “Wait, where are you going?”

Mirian turned at the door. “I’m going to go see if I can capture one of the soldiers who’s about to help burn down the embassy.”

The embassy workers she’d saved looked at each other.

“See you in a few,” Mirian said.

First, she stopped by the Bard and Lion to tell Celine what to do. Then she made her way down into the southern canals under Ducastil, using detect life to look for suspicious gatherings. She’d memorized the spot where they eventually scattered, but hadn’t gotten a precise location on where they’d come up from.

Finding the gathering was surprisingly easy. Several people wearing Palendurio Guard uniforms were positioned to block off that section of the canal network. She could see dozens of souls through her spell through the stone walls around the bend.

When she approached the guard, he said, “Sorry, citizen. There’s a dangerous criminal on the loose down here. We’re blocking off his escape, but we don’t want anyone getting hurt until he’s apprehended.”

“I have a shipment to pick up,” Mirian said. “It’s time-sensitive. Are you sure I can’t just… perhaps with an escort?”

The guard shook his head.