Chapter 127 – Troytin

The interrogation room in the Magistrate’s office brought back memories for Mirian. The first thing she noticed was that Sulvorath had been using illusions to make himself appear a bit taller and more muscular when he was in public. Without his illusions, he was the typical fair skinned Akanan, with brown hair and a slight build. If he was Akanan military, it was logistics or support, not front line combat.

When they entered the room, an enraged Sulvorath was busy swearing in Eskinar. “—and I’ll fucking remember this, you ass-crowned peasants! You think this will stop me? You think this will even slow me down? Did the bitch put you up to it? When I find her, you’ll have nothing left. You’ll all bow before me or die, and I’ll make sure you know what sins you’re paying for. Fuck!” he roared, spittle flying from his mouth.

While Priest Krier joined Ada across from the Akanan man, Mirian stayed to the side, acolyte’s hood over her head, standing in a silent corner. She had two wands up her sleeve if she needed them, but they’d already searched Sulvorath thoroughly for any arcane catalysts or weapons.

Priest Krier put his hand on Sulvorath’s shoulder. The man bucked and strained against the shackles restraining him to the chair. “Get your fucking hands off me you shithead heretic!” He’d swapped to Friian, though his accent was still thick.

The priest closed his eyes, no doubt sensing the extensive marks plastered all over Sulvorath’s soul. He nodded at Ada.

“We’ll add necromancy to the charges, then. Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the Akanans, Troytin? The guard is rounding up your spies as we speak. But perhaps we can extradite you back to Akana Praediar if we better understand what you were doing.” Ada had no intention of doing this, but the idea was to give Sulvorath—no, Troytin—hope that he could talk his way out of his predicament. The more information they could get out of him, the better.

“Fuck you. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I am the Ominian’s chosen one. He chose me for His holy mission. Why should you release me? So He doesn’t damn you to Carkavakom’s fires!”

Ada shook her head. “Holy mission?”

“This only ends when the false prophets are cast down. And I will cast them down. My will is unbreakable.”

Priest Krier took over from there. “Why do you think the Ominian has called for a contest?”

“The dreams. He doesn’t give them to you because you’re heretical swine. Akana Praediar is righteous. It’s the nation of progress, with a church that has kept the faith. We embody all His aspects.”

“Hmm,” said Krier. She could see his jaw clenching at being called a heretic, but he was controlling his temper. “What do the dreams show you?”

“His Temple, of course. The lands promised to us—which is all of them. And the tree of ascension. Only one may rest on its crown. Only one may occupy a throne. Only one is called to fight the war against the five hells. That wall of fire approaches us. And Akana Praediar will face it, united, under my banner. And insects like you? They’ll be crushed.”

Troytin seemed to be enjoying his rant. He went back to threatening them all.

Mirian recognized the dreams he was referring to. The Mausoleum, the tree, and the wall of fire in the stars. The travels across Enteria. Only, he’d interpreted them differently.

Ada interrupted him. “How does the Divine Monument come into this?”

Troytin gave her a wide smile, and leaned back in his chair. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? But the divine mysteries aren’t for you, little bug. Maybe if you start serving me, I’ll have mercy. You know, Ada, I know where your mother and father live. Nice little farm, east of Cairnmouth. It’d be such a shame if anything happened to them. And Krier—I know your sister lives in Palendurio. Alone, still. Do you know how easy it will be for me to order her death? No one will even know it was me. And do you know whose fault it is, for your suffering?” The prisoner leaned forward suddenly, pulling his shackles taut. “YOURS! For opposing ME!”

Gods above, Mirian thought. And I’d thought the time loops were driving me insane. He’s absolutely cracked.

Of course, what consequence would he face for his outburst? He thought she was in Cairnmouth.

Mirian came over with a cloth with the excuse of wiping the spittle from his mouth. As she did, she briefly touched a hand to his shoulder.

“Get that away from me you prick,” Troytin swore as she dabbed his mouth. She took pleasure in knowing she was annoying him.

As she worked, she looked at his soul. Marva had been right. He was covered in tiny soul marks. They weren’t visible at a distance, but up close she could see them. Hundreds and hundreds of them. There was some pattern to them, but Mirian couldn’t begin to know how many hours—or days—it might take to figure out what Specter had been trying to do with them.

What stood out to her, though, was the circular pattern of marks around the hole in his soul.

She wondered if the double-agent had made any progress on understanding it.

“Get OFF!” Sulvorath roared. “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands. I don’t want insects crawling on me.”

Mirian moved away, because she didn’t want the absolute jackass paying her any more attention. Once again, she had a conundrum. She could analyze the marks, and try to decode Specter’s message to herself, but that risked Troytin realizing who she actually was. Specter must have had some trick she was using to make him sit still so she could work.

But how much could she have really determined? Each cycle she has to first relearn what she discovered.

She considered wiping his soul clean of the marks. And yet, if Specter was dead, her progress would halt, so what was the risk in leaving them?

She was being indecisive, she knew. But it wasn’t at all easy to tell what the best path forward was. She heard General Hanaran’s voice, saying, “If your enemy is making a mistake, let them.” She decided to keep to that path for now. It at least kept the other ones open if she changed her mind.

The interrogation continued, though she could tell Ada’s patience was being tested, and Krier’s patience was completely run out. It didn’t seem he was stupid enough to reveal anything of note. Mostly, he spewed threats. After a while, he grew bored of that, and grew silent. He ignored the questions, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Oh, whatever. Just kill me or something. Or better yet, just wait a few days, and find out what happens to you. Scurry along now, little ants.”

Ada kept her face from showing emotion. Krier couldn’t help himself. He slapped Sulvorath across the face before he left.

The interrogation was clearly over for the day, and Mirian met with Ada and Krier in the next room. She cast muffle sound as a precaution, even though the doors were already warded to be soundproof. “We’ll hook up one of the Akanan communicator spell engines to a simple sound transference artifact that we’ll hide in his cell. Listen in. I doubt he’ll reveal anything, but it’s worth a shot. Holy One, how do Troytin’s, uh, interesting beliefs, we’ll call them, line up with the Church of the Ominian doctrine?”

“That little rat. I hope he learns some manners.” Krier gave an angry glance at the door, then unclenched his jaw with some effort. “There’s no single Church of the Ominian. They all have a commitment to several key doctrinal points, and commitment to the break with the Luminate Order. The priests are all inducted into the Order of the Ominian. But after that, interpretation is left up to the second rank priests who oversee their group of churches. A group can be a single church, or it can be dozens or hundreds. He’s obviously from a Third Adventist church. They believe there were only two genuine prophets, and the world still awaits the coming of a third prophet. That third prophet will unite the world, and expel the heretical orders.”

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“A nice little holy crusade. I bet those prophecies don’t say anything about multiple prophets springing up at once,” Mirian said, conjuring Eclipse into her hand. Ada and Krier both gazed at the blade.

“Ah. Ah. No. No they do not.”

Ada chimed in. “There’s a cultural component. Most Akanans are strongly individualistic and fiercely competitive. And proud of that. Troytin appears to be no exception.”

“You still have my list of questions to try?”

“We do,” Ada said. “We’ll interrogate him, and we’ll try to get the Akanan spies to tell us what he told them.”

“Good. Some of the Akanan spies will be more cooperative. Especially Idras, if you can play to his patriotism. Meanwhile, Torrviol should evacuate across the lake. There’s no way General Hanaran’s division makes it up here in time, not with the train being melted to the tracks. I doubt he’s figured out a way to launch the invasion early, so we still likely have until the 28th.” Mirian turned to leave, already starting to disassemble the soul-bindings on herself. If she could be in her own body for a few days, it would be a nice relief.

“Ah… what he said. About my family,” Ada said.

Mirian turned. “I have a plan to stop him. Don’t worry. Either of you.”

It was silly to worry about one madman’s threats when the world was going to end. For all Mirian knew, Ada’s family got blown apart by an eruption by the leylines. But none of them needed any more hard truths right now. They needed to be assuaged. She could do that for them.

Mirian left.

The Akanans were bringing the perfect opportunity to study an airship right to her door, and she had preparations to make.

***