Clearly, whoever this was had been keeping their abilities secret for a long time. Which told Vanderberk that they were not merely intending to stall for time here.
They believed they would be able to kill him.
How many times was he going to be underestimated before people learned?
And if his opponent was so eager to see it, then Vanderberk supposed he should oblige.
The power he'd acquired in Qenghis all those years ago was not something he liked to use freely or often. Such recklessness would've only made the enemy's job of gathering intel on him that much easier.
Not to mention, it was dangerous to himself, as well. The minute he stopped respecting it, he would be consumed.
Perhaps this illusion-slinger would make that mistake. Perhaps they would believe that the things Vanderberk was showing them were mere illusions, too.
It would be an understandable error, if also a deadly one.
Despite its entirely strange and foreign nature, however, Vanderberk had come to learn that his helium was quite complementary to it. Even though helium was seemingly quite limited compared to other elements, he had discovered certain key uses in his youth that were still coming in handy with it to this day.
The ability to stealthily suffocate people had been quite the assassin's tool, back in the day. And of course, there were things like fire suppression and acidic immunity that often caught his more aggressive opponents by surprise.
More recently, though, there were the developments with pan-rozum. Since helium was invisible to the naked eye, that of course meant that he, too, could become invisible, not unlike an aberration.
His invisibility, however, was more refined in some ways. And quite necessary, for this next part.
He'd closed his eyes earlier in order to not become disoriented by the confusing, illusory mess that his opponent wanted him to see.
But now, he opened them again. And when he did, they were red as blood--and burning with ethereal fire.
In an instant, he brought all of his concentration to bear. The illusory world around him dissolved like ashes caught in a whirlwind, and for a brief time, he saw the normal world again. The green of the forest. The white of the waterfall. The Dakinsalla.
Then it was all replaced with black-and-white fire. With a million gangly, twisted arms reaching, grasping. With distorted eyes, searching. With bodies, headless and roaming.
With the Living Inferno.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.
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Sunday, April 30, 2023
Saturday, April 29, 2023
Page 3296
"Alright," said Vanderberk, looking between all the different faces, "you've proven you're more than a mere illusionist. If you want to play, then why don't you begin by telling me who I'm dealing with?"
"Curious, are you?" said the face directly behind him.
"Too bad for you," said one to his right.
"Die in ignorance," said the one straight ahead of him.
The next attack came from behind. Vanderberk only sensed it via another pulse of invisible helium, empowered with his soul. It was an orb of some kind, moving at high speed. He avoided it simply enough, but when he looked to see what the thing actually was, he saw nothing. Regardless, he sent a blind assault of freezing helium in the direction it had come from, not expecting it accomplish anything.
His eyes were useless here. In fact, they were probably working against him. He closed them.
He chose to rely only on Elinox's soul sense, for now. With constant helium pulses going out all around him, he had a rather clear picture of the area in his mind.
Psychics could sabotage that sense, if they knew how, but they would still have trouble making gaps disappear. And that was how he was using it. He looked for where the soul power couldn't reach. Where holes appeared.
"What's the matter, Weasel?" came the voice again. It sounded less like Croll now, though maybe that, too, was a trick of the senses. "Not going to use that special ability of yours?"
Vanderberk ignored him. The gaps. He was looking for the gaps. Empty space would alert him to another attack, just like before. And then he could mount another counterattack based on its direction. He didn't yet need--
Something big smashed into him, sending him sailing through the air against his will. It was a heavy impact. Enough to pancake a younger servant. For him, though, it wasn't enough to disorient him. He could still think clearly even as he was busy regaining control.
This shouldn't have happened. The psychic had interfered with his ability to sense even the gaps within soul power? He was not aware of any living psychic who would be powerful enough to accomplish such a feat, save perhaps the Weaver--and he could be quite confident that she was not the culprit here.
No. According to Elinox's memories, only the ancient Kingsparrows would have been able to pull this off.
"Curious, are you?" said the face directly behind him.
"Too bad for you," said one to his right.
"Die in ignorance," said the one straight ahead of him.
The next attack came from behind. Vanderberk only sensed it via another pulse of invisible helium, empowered with his soul. It was an orb of some kind, moving at high speed. He avoided it simply enough, but when he looked to see what the thing actually was, he saw nothing. Regardless, he sent a blind assault of freezing helium in the direction it had come from, not expecting it accomplish anything.
His eyes were useless here. In fact, they were probably working against him. He closed them.
He chose to rely only on Elinox's soul sense, for now. With constant helium pulses going out all around him, he had a rather clear picture of the area in his mind.
Psychics could sabotage that sense, if they knew how, but they would still have trouble making gaps disappear. And that was how he was using it. He looked for where the soul power couldn't reach. Where holes appeared.
"What's the matter, Weasel?" came the voice again. It sounded less like Croll now, though maybe that, too, was a trick of the senses. "Not going to use that special ability of yours?"
Vanderberk ignored him. The gaps. He was looking for the gaps. Empty space would alert him to another attack, just like before. And then he could mount another counterattack based on its direction. He didn't yet need--
Something big smashed into him, sending him sailing through the air against his will. It was a heavy impact. Enough to pancake a younger servant. For him, though, it wasn't enough to disorient him. He could still think clearly even as he was busy regaining control.
This shouldn't have happened. The psychic had interfered with his ability to sense even the gaps within soul power? He was not aware of any living psychic who would be powerful enough to accomplish such a feat, save perhaps the Weaver--and he could be quite confident that she was not the culprit here.
No. According to Elinox's memories, only the ancient Kingsparrows would have been able to pull this off.
Friday, April 28, 2023
Page 3295
He was still hesitating, though. He kept expecting someone else to appear as if from nowhere. An attack from just outside his peripheral vision or sensory range. This couldn't really be the extent of his opponent's resistance. Had they simply underestimated him that badly?
Well. Maybe they had. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.
Paranoia getting to him again. Agh. He shook his head, knowing he needed to move quickly. The prison was due south--and close. If he flew at top speed, it would be--
A surge of wind cut him in two. Vanderberk almost hadn't sensed it in time. His gaseous body melted back together easily, and he looked down at the fake Croll again, as that was the direction from which the attack had arrived.
Sure enough, Croll looked normal once more. No longer skewered or disfigured in the slightest. Where had all the blades gone?
"Stay and play with me a little longer, Weasel of the Wicked Sight." It was still Croll's voice and Croll's face, but the words and expression were completely wrong now. The imposter seemed to be enjoying this.
Vanderberk, however, saw no merit in staying. The attack just now had been toothless. He bolted straight up into the sky, intent on ignoring any follow ups from the fake and heading straight back to Logden.
Then the entire world went dark.
He saw the land above his head, arching impossibly toward him, as if within a twisted mirror. It was illuminated as clearly as day, despite the sun having vanished. And Croll's face appeared before him, disembodied and far too large.
"I'm afraid I must insist," said the illusion. "Stay."
Psychic tricks, rather obviously. More advanced than he'd seen in a while. But still tricks, all the same.
He flew higher, aiming to punch through the illusory land. Vanderberk would not be disoriented so easily. He still remembered where to go.
When he touched the land, however, he bounced off of it and was sent falling, spiraling back down.
What the fuck was that? No. He hadn't bounced off. It had just seemed that way. The illusion and the timing. Something had hit him. Clobbered him, actually.
An attack that he hadn't been able to ignore. Finally.
Croll faces were all around him, now, bobbing in the air with mocking grins. That looked especially wrong. The real Croll probably didn't know how to smile.
Well. Maybe they had. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.
Paranoia getting to him again. Agh. He shook his head, knowing he needed to move quickly. The prison was due south--and close. If he flew at top speed, it would be--
A surge of wind cut him in two. Vanderberk almost hadn't sensed it in time. His gaseous body melted back together easily, and he looked down at the fake Croll again, as that was the direction from which the attack had arrived.
Sure enough, Croll looked normal once more. No longer skewered or disfigured in the slightest. Where had all the blades gone?
"Stay and play with me a little longer, Weasel of the Wicked Sight." It was still Croll's voice and Croll's face, but the words and expression were completely wrong now. The imposter seemed to be enjoying this.
Vanderberk, however, saw no merit in staying. The attack just now had been toothless. He bolted straight up into the sky, intent on ignoring any follow ups from the fake and heading straight back to Logden.
Then the entire world went dark.
He saw the land above his head, arching impossibly toward him, as if within a twisted mirror. It was illuminated as clearly as day, despite the sun having vanished. And Croll's face appeared before him, disembodied and far too large.
"I'm afraid I must insist," said the illusion. "Stay."
Psychic tricks, rather obviously. More advanced than he'd seen in a while. But still tricks, all the same.
He flew higher, aiming to punch through the illusory land. Vanderberk would not be disoriented so easily. He still remembered where to go.
When he touched the land, however, he bounced off of it and was sent falling, spiraling back down.
What the fuck was that? No. He hadn't bounced off. It had just seemed that way. The illusion and the timing. Something had hit him. Clobbered him, actually.
An attack that he hadn't been able to ignore. Finally.
Croll faces were all around him, now, bobbing in the air with mocking grins. That looked especially wrong. The real Croll probably didn't know how to smile.
Thursday, April 27, 2023
Page 3294
No more invisible helium attacks. This time, a quite visible wave of solid blades was the strategy.
When it came to materializable elements, helium was a bit of a problem child. Vanderberk had struggled with it fruitlessly for many, many years, thinking that he could use it the way so many other materializers used their elements. Even after learning pan-rozum, that old struggle had been renewed in some ways.
Helium was a noble gas. Inert. It did not react to other elements. He therefore couldn't use the transfiguration aspect of pan-rozum in order to combine his materialized helium with the elements in his own body to create explosions. A common trick for pan-rozum users, but unavailable to him.
Helium also did not freeze easily. Even at absolute zero, it would stubbornly remain a liquid unless one also applied an incredible degree of pressure to it.
Which was why these blades of solid helium were so difficult to make. And why he tended to go overboard when doing so. He'd trained too hard for them to be useless.
A tidal wave of helium blades filled his vision, shredding the quaint wooden viewing platform he'd been standing on into millions of flying splinters as they swarmed Croll.
He hovered in the air, helium legs keeping him aloft while fragments of wood were swept away by the river's current below. And he watched the utter mayhem of his attack unfold. The chunk of forest behind Croll had all but exploded, shredded trees toppling over each other or simply bursting apart on impact. In the chaos of it, Vanderberk nearly lost track of Croll's soul signature.
When the dust and splinters began to settle, Vanderberk saw Croll more clearly again. The man had been skewered near a hundred times but was still standing. Barely.
"Enough of this game," said Vanderberk. "The real Thaddeus Croll would have survived that with nary a scratch." Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. Tough to say without testing the Killer more extensively. But this imposter wouldn't know any of that. "Who are you?"
Croll merely remained standing there, so disfigured by the blades that he seemed perhaps unable to respond--or do anything else for that matter.
Shit. Vanderberk hoped he hadn't accidentally killed whoever this was already. He still wanted answers. And a lot of them.
Hmm. Trying to stall for time? They'd stopped him from calling the prison again, so he supposed if they were still alive, they would be forced to stop him from returning there, too.
When it came to materializable elements, helium was a bit of a problem child. Vanderberk had struggled with it fruitlessly for many, many years, thinking that he could use it the way so many other materializers used their elements. Even after learning pan-rozum, that old struggle had been renewed in some ways.
Helium was a noble gas. Inert. It did not react to other elements. He therefore couldn't use the transfiguration aspect of pan-rozum in order to combine his materialized helium with the elements in his own body to create explosions. A common trick for pan-rozum users, but unavailable to him.
Helium also did not freeze easily. Even at absolute zero, it would stubbornly remain a liquid unless one also applied an incredible degree of pressure to it.
Which was why these blades of solid helium were so difficult to make. And why he tended to go overboard when doing so. He'd trained too hard for them to be useless.
A tidal wave of helium blades filled his vision, shredding the quaint wooden viewing platform he'd been standing on into millions of flying splinters as they swarmed Croll.
He hovered in the air, helium legs keeping him aloft while fragments of wood were swept away by the river's current below. And he watched the utter mayhem of his attack unfold. The chunk of forest behind Croll had all but exploded, shredded trees toppling over each other or simply bursting apart on impact. In the chaos of it, Vanderberk nearly lost track of Croll's soul signature.
When the dust and splinters began to settle, Vanderberk saw Croll more clearly again. The man had been skewered near a hundred times but was still standing. Barely.
"Enough of this game," said Vanderberk. "The real Thaddeus Croll would have survived that with nary a scratch." Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. Tough to say without testing the Killer more extensively. But this imposter wouldn't know any of that. "Who are you?"
Croll merely remained standing there, so disfigured by the blades that he seemed perhaps unable to respond--or do anything else for that matter.
Shit. Vanderberk hoped he hadn't accidentally killed whoever this was already. He still wanted answers. And a lot of them.
Hmm. Trying to stall for time? They'd stopped him from calling the prison again, so he supposed if they were still alive, they would be forced to stop him from returning there, too.
Wednesday, April 26, 2023
Page 3293
"What's your plan here, Killer? Surely you don't think you can defeat me alone." Was he banking on the Rainlords showing up to help him?
A sharp pain arrived in his skull, so sudden and intense that he had to endure it for a few moments before using Elinox's power to numb it. Which provided Croll with an opening to attack.
The Killer lunged straight toward him, unsheathing his blade.
In a blink, Vanderberk was bisected in two, straight down the middle.
If he wasn't already in pan-rozum, that might have been a small problem. The blade flashed again, and Vanderberk raised a hand to catch Croll's sword arm with a helium prison. Croll would be able to resist it, Vanderberk knew, but it would still be enough to slow or even deflect the attack.
It did nothing, however. Croll's attacked continued, unabated, and sliced Vanderberk diagonally from shoulder to hip.
What the hell?
Croll didn't let up. He kept slashing away.
More confused than upset, Vanderberk resorted to his full helium form in order begin dodging more easily. The blade whiffed or passed through his gaseous body as Vanderberk focused on creating space between him and Croll while he reassessed.
Several things were wrong here. The world around him seemed to slow as he sorted through them all.
One. Croll had not only betrayed him but done it stupidly. Alone, the man stood no chance here, so where was his backup? Vanderberk couldn't sense anyone.
Two. Vanderberk couldn't stop or slow Croll's attacks, as if he wasn't even feeling the helium interruptions.
Three. Where had that sharp headache come from? A psychic assault? Croll had no such power, as far as Vanderberk knew.
Four. Croll's attacks were sloppy. Despite how much power was behind them and how fast they appeared, these slashes were actually quite slow, by Croll's standards. Rather than cutting him into two, the Killer of Krohin should have been able to dice a vulnerable Vanderberk into dozens of pieces in that same amount of time. Vanderberk had seen Croll's swordwork countless times before, so unless the man was holding back, this made little sense.
Five. The other incapacitated subordinates. What had happened to them? They weren't dead. If Croll had really attacked them, they would be.
That was enough. Vanderberk came back to reality, having a new test in mind for his opponent.
A sharp pain arrived in his skull, so sudden and intense that he had to endure it for a few moments before using Elinox's power to numb it. Which provided Croll with an opening to attack.
The Killer lunged straight toward him, unsheathing his blade.
In a blink, Vanderberk was bisected in two, straight down the middle.
If he wasn't already in pan-rozum, that might have been a small problem. The blade flashed again, and Vanderberk raised a hand to catch Croll's sword arm with a helium prison. Croll would be able to resist it, Vanderberk knew, but it would still be enough to slow or even deflect the attack.
It did nothing, however. Croll's attacked continued, unabated, and sliced Vanderberk diagonally from shoulder to hip.
What the hell?
Croll didn't let up. He kept slashing away.
More confused than upset, Vanderberk resorted to his full helium form in order begin dodging more easily. The blade whiffed or passed through his gaseous body as Vanderberk focused on creating space between him and Croll while he reassessed.
Several things were wrong here. The world around him seemed to slow as he sorted through them all.
One. Croll had not only betrayed him but done it stupidly. Alone, the man stood no chance here, so where was his backup? Vanderberk couldn't sense anyone.
Two. Vanderberk couldn't stop or slow Croll's attacks, as if he wasn't even feeling the helium interruptions.
Three. Where had that sharp headache come from? A psychic assault? Croll had no such power, as far as Vanderberk knew.
Four. Croll's attacks were sloppy. Despite how much power was behind them and how fast they appeared, these slashes were actually quite slow, by Croll's standards. Rather than cutting him into two, the Killer of Krohin should have been able to dice a vulnerable Vanderberk into dozens of pieces in that same amount of time. Vanderberk had seen Croll's swordwork countless times before, so unless the man was holding back, this made little sense.
Five. The other incapacitated subordinates. What had happened to them? They weren't dead. If Croll had really attacked them, they would be.
That was enough. Vanderberk came back to reality, having a new test in mind for his opponent.
Next page will go up at noon
Just need a bit more time. Thanks, everyone. For doing the dishes the other day. That was a big help.
Tuesday, April 25, 2023
Page 3292
Vanderberk had still been admiring the view and not looking at Croll directly, but something about those questions made his eyes shift over to the man. "It's not your place to ask why, Killer."
Croll met his gaze steadily, not shying away as so many others would when he looked at them.
This was unsurprising. The Killer of Krohin was a man of unusual intensity, even by Abolish's standards. He was unlikely to be intimidated by anyone, even emperors.
Vanderberk sent out an invisible wave of soul-empowered, pressurized helium. Combined with his reaper senses, the wave would tell him if there were any suspiciously empty spaces in the area.
Such as Rainlords cloaked with Invisibility, trying to sneak up on him while he was distracted.
But there was nothing. No one. Not on the ground, not in the air, not over the river.
"Keeping me in the dark won't benefit you in the long run," said Thaddeus. "The more informed I am of your intentions, the better I can help you achieve them."
No. This still wasn't right. Croll didn't make small talk. He didn't inquire about plans or idly speculate on things. He asked for orders or perhaps permission, then took action. Where was this change in behavior coming from? Had he done something? Was this conversation to stall for time?
Rather than answering, Vanderberk lifted his phone to call the prison again.
It fell apart in his hand, broken in two.
Vanderberk's eyes returned to the Killer, only to see the man sheathing his sword but not removing his hand from the hilt. "You choose now to make your move against me?" said Vanderberk. "When our numbers across the continent are already so diminished?"
The Killer made no response.
And again thanks to Elinox's senses, Vanderberk could abruptly sense something wrong the other men he'd brought along for this meeting. They collapsed to the ground in unison, not moving.
How did Croll neutralize them all in an instant like that? One moment they'd been fine, and now they weren't. Stranger still, they didn't seem to be dead, and the Killer of Krohin certainly wasn't known for his ability to subdue his opponents without killing them. If he'd used his sword, they'd all be in the same state as his phone, right now.
For some reason, however, the Rainkid had been left untouched. The boy was just standing there by the nearest vehicle, still unable to move.
Had Croll intentionally spared him? Or had it actually been Vanderberk's own invisible prison that protected him?
Croll met his gaze steadily, not shying away as so many others would when he looked at them.
This was unsurprising. The Killer of Krohin was a man of unusual intensity, even by Abolish's standards. He was unlikely to be intimidated by anyone, even emperors.
Vanderberk sent out an invisible wave of soul-empowered, pressurized helium. Combined with his reaper senses, the wave would tell him if there were any suspiciously empty spaces in the area.
Such as Rainlords cloaked with Invisibility, trying to sneak up on him while he was distracted.
But there was nothing. No one. Not on the ground, not in the air, not over the river.
"Keeping me in the dark won't benefit you in the long run," said Thaddeus. "The more informed I am of your intentions, the better I can help you achieve them."
No. This still wasn't right. Croll didn't make small talk. He didn't inquire about plans or idly speculate on things. He asked for orders or perhaps permission, then took action. Where was this change in behavior coming from? Had he done something? Was this conversation to stall for time?
Rather than answering, Vanderberk lifted his phone to call the prison again.
It fell apart in his hand, broken in two.
Vanderberk's eyes returned to the Killer, only to see the man sheathing his sword but not removing his hand from the hilt. "You choose now to make your move against me?" said Vanderberk. "When our numbers across the continent are already so diminished?"
The Killer made no response.
And again thanks to Elinox's senses, Vanderberk could abruptly sense something wrong the other men he'd brought along for this meeting. They collapsed to the ground in unison, not moving.
How did Croll neutralize them all in an instant like that? One moment they'd been fine, and now they weren't. Stranger still, they didn't seem to be dead, and the Killer of Krohin certainly wasn't known for his ability to subdue his opponents without killing them. If he'd used his sword, they'd all be in the same state as his phone, right now.
For some reason, however, the Rainkid had been left untouched. The boy was just standing there by the nearest vehicle, still unable to move.
Had Croll intentionally spared him? Or had it actually been Vanderberk's own invisible prison that protected him?
Monday, April 24, 2023
Page 3291
In ancient times, the local people believed that Dakinsalla was a meeting place of people and spirits who were traveling between worlds. The exact spot where water hit water was said to be where one could easily break through into the afterlife, while the water and mist that splashed away allowed for spirits from the other side to arrive in this one.
Vanderberk couldn't help thinking that there was an obvious kernel of truth to that. If some fool decided to jump in there, seeking to find the afterlife, then he would indeed probably find it as the waters crushed and drowned him. Maybe these ancient people had a cruel sense of humor.
A part of him had been hoping to find Lucanus here. The extra bit of backup wouldn't have hurt. Hell, maybe he was here and Vanderberk just couldn't sense him. The man could conceal himself quite well in the wilderness, and as Vanderberk recalled, Lucanus had a leafy shelter around here that blended in impossibly well.
It didn't take long for Vanderberk to begin growing impatient. A few more minutes transpired, and still no Rainlords had appeared. He checked back with his men at the prison, and there was still no word of their appearance there, either. He kept reaching out with Elinox's senses, too, but there was nothing.
Eventually, he turned to the Rainkid. "Are they en route?" he said.
An odd look crossed the kid's face, and his gaze went between Vanderberk's men, lingering on Croll for a moment who was watching the boy like a hawk. The kid gave a nod, though it seemed uncertain by Vanderberk's assessment.
Ugh. He hated this waiting. "Tell them if they don't get here soon, I'm leaving."
Another nod, this one with slightly less trepidation behind it.
A few more minutes transpired with no change.
And perhaps he was struggling with the boredom, too, because Croll decided to strike up a conversation with Vanderberk while they had a bit of distance from the others. "You sure it was wise to split us up like this?" he asked.
"Maybe not, but the enemy poses little threat to us, either way. And if we continued to do nothing, then they would, too. A stalemate would not have been of benefit to us."
"Why not? You afraid of what's happening elsewhere in this country? Or elsewhere in the war at large?"
Vanderberk couldn't help thinking that there was an obvious kernel of truth to that. If some fool decided to jump in there, seeking to find the afterlife, then he would indeed probably find it as the waters crushed and drowned him. Maybe these ancient people had a cruel sense of humor.
A part of him had been hoping to find Lucanus here. The extra bit of backup wouldn't have hurt. Hell, maybe he was here and Vanderberk just couldn't sense him. The man could conceal himself quite well in the wilderness, and as Vanderberk recalled, Lucanus had a leafy shelter around here that blended in impossibly well.
It didn't take long for Vanderberk to begin growing impatient. A few more minutes transpired, and still no Rainlords had appeared. He checked back with his men at the prison, and there was still no word of their appearance there, either. He kept reaching out with Elinox's senses, too, but there was nothing.
Eventually, he turned to the Rainkid. "Are they en route?" he said.
An odd look crossed the kid's face, and his gaze went between Vanderberk's men, lingering on Croll for a moment who was watching the boy like a hawk. The kid gave a nod, though it seemed uncertain by Vanderberk's assessment.
Ugh. He hated this waiting. "Tell them if they don't get here soon, I'm leaving."
Another nod, this one with slightly less trepidation behind it.
A few more minutes transpired with no change.
And perhaps he was struggling with the boredom, too, because Croll decided to strike up a conversation with Vanderberk while they had a bit of distance from the others. "You sure it was wise to split us up like this?" he asked.
"Maybe not, but the enemy poses little threat to us, either way. And if we continued to do nothing, then they would, too. A stalemate would not have been of benefit to us."
"Why not? You afraid of what's happening elsewhere in this country? Or elsewhere in the war at large?"
Sunday, April 23, 2023
Page 3290
Only after a sudden break in the treeline did Dakinsalla come into view. From this low angle, the waterfall had the enormity of a skyscraper, and the roaring noise could already be heard over the sound of the vehicle's engine as they approached. It was even catching the sun just right and offering a pleasing rainbow for their arrival, which hardly seemed appropriate for these circumstances, but Vanderberk certainly didn't mind.
Everyone exited their vehicles.
Vanderberk was already in pan-rozum with his reaper, Elinox. He was in the habit of being exceptionally cautious with his reaper, even in the presence of his own men, whom he expected might try to assassinate him at any moment. Keeping Elinox close at all times was therefore a requirement. Usually, that meant tucking the reaper beneath his shirt like a concealed weapon.
Thankfully, Elinox had gotten accustomed to this strategy many years ago and rarely complained or even spoke up at all. Perhaps the reaper had even grown to enjoy hiding himself in plain sight and eavesdropping on many unsuspecting speakers.
The Rainlords, meanwhile, appeared not to have arrived yet, which was obviously suspicious. Vanderberk didn't intend to wait very long for them. The first thing he did was start making calls back to the prison. Marda, Cross, and then to the tower watchmen directly in order to be extra sure.
"If you see so much as a tree moving strangely, you call me and let me know," said Vanderberk.
"Yes, sir."
If the Rainlords' strategy here really was as simple as trying to lure him away from the prison long enough to break their brethren free, then they were going to be sorely upset. While the trip here by car had taken a while, it would not take him long at all to fly back there in a fury and start raining hell down on them. He'd make sure to kill every single one of the hostages before the day was done.
But for now, all remained quiet. So Vanderberk decided to keep a cool head and give the Rainlords a few more minutes.
The natural beauty of this area might have been having a calming effect on him, too.
In terms of manmade structures, there wasn't much here to speak of. Only a modest viewing platform sat at the base of the river, though it did have a roof built over it to shield from the occasional mist of water that managed to make it this far. A little plaque sat in the center of it, describing the location's history.
Everyone exited their vehicles.
Vanderberk was already in pan-rozum with his reaper, Elinox. He was in the habit of being exceptionally cautious with his reaper, even in the presence of his own men, whom he expected might try to assassinate him at any moment. Keeping Elinox close at all times was therefore a requirement. Usually, that meant tucking the reaper beneath his shirt like a concealed weapon.
Thankfully, Elinox had gotten accustomed to this strategy many years ago and rarely complained or even spoke up at all. Perhaps the reaper had even grown to enjoy hiding himself in plain sight and eavesdropping on many unsuspecting speakers.
The Rainlords, meanwhile, appeared not to have arrived yet, which was obviously suspicious. Vanderberk didn't intend to wait very long for them. The first thing he did was start making calls back to the prison. Marda, Cross, and then to the tower watchmen directly in order to be extra sure.
"If you see so much as a tree moving strangely, you call me and let me know," said Vanderberk.
"Yes, sir."
If the Rainlords' strategy here really was as simple as trying to lure him away from the prison long enough to break their brethren free, then they were going to be sorely upset. While the trip here by car had taken a while, it would not take him long at all to fly back there in a fury and start raining hell down on them. He'd make sure to kill every single one of the hostages before the day was done.
But for now, all remained quiet. So Vanderberk decided to keep a cool head and give the Rainlords a few more minutes.
The natural beauty of this area might have been having a calming effect on him, too.
In terms of manmade structures, there wasn't much here to speak of. Only a modest viewing platform sat at the base of the river, though it did have a roof built over it to shield from the occasional mist of water that managed to make it this far. A little plaque sat in the center of it, describing the location's history.
Saturday, April 22, 2023
Page 3289
Combined with the revelation that Thaddeus had also been breaking the Rainkid's fingers one at a time during an even earlier conversation, it had quickly become clear that Vanderberk should not allow Croll to be alone with this kid, anymore. Whether it was because the kid didn't know when to shut up or because Croll just hated the Rainlords after doing battle with them for weeks, Vanderberk didn't know. Maybe both.
At length, the kid did indeed return the nod Vanderberk had been looking for. Good. They could finally get this show on the road.
He sent word to his men and began preparing to leave immediately.
The fact that the negotiations were not going to take place within the prison itself also posed a certain level of risk. The prison had been his third suggested location, which they'd also intelligently refused. He could have insisted--and perhaps should have--but between the prison guards and his own men, Vanderberk had plenty of power to divide between here and the meeting place. If the Rainlords decided to try something hinky like staging a prison break while he was distracted with negotiations, they would find themselves overwhelmed in both places.
And he would of course be keeping men at both locations who could deal with any Invisibility users. The Rainlords had probably learned their lesson already about using Abolish's own tech against them, but if not, then that would make for a nice surprise, too.
As they made their way down the narrow mountain pass in a line of military vehicles, the late afternoon sun cut a picturesque image across the uneven landscape on the horizon. One might've thought that they would be able to see quite far into the distance when they were this high up, but no. The mountains here were so dense that the horizon was perhaps only two or three miles away.
The trip to Dakinsalla took longer than expected. The winding roads down and then back up the mountains made the journey thrice what it would've been if he'd just flown, but oh well. Not all of his men could fly, and the backup was necessary here.
He wasn't afraid of the Rainlords, but he didn't want to be overconfident, either. They could be a problem if they swarmed him while he was alone, especially since he was still lacking intel on some of them.
At length, the kid did indeed return the nod Vanderberk had been looking for. Good. They could finally get this show on the road.
He sent word to his men and began preparing to leave immediately.
The fact that the negotiations were not going to take place within the prison itself also posed a certain level of risk. The prison had been his third suggested location, which they'd also intelligently refused. He could have insisted--and perhaps should have--but between the prison guards and his own men, Vanderberk had plenty of power to divide between here and the meeting place. If the Rainlords decided to try something hinky like staging a prison break while he was distracted with negotiations, they would find themselves overwhelmed in both places.
And he would of course be keeping men at both locations who could deal with any Invisibility users. The Rainlords had probably learned their lesson already about using Abolish's own tech against them, but if not, then that would make for a nice surprise, too.
As they made their way down the narrow mountain pass in a line of military vehicles, the late afternoon sun cut a picturesque image across the uneven landscape on the horizon. One might've thought that they would be able to see quite far into the distance when they were this high up, but no. The mountains here were so dense that the horizon was perhaps only two or three miles away.
The trip to Dakinsalla took longer than expected. The winding roads down and then back up the mountains made the journey thrice what it would've been if he'd just flown, but oh well. Not all of his men could fly, and the backup was necessary here.
He wasn't afraid of the Rainlords, but he didn't want to be overconfident, either. They could be a problem if they swarmed him while he was alone, especially since he was still lacking intel on some of them.
Friday, April 21, 2023
Page 3288
It wasn't just an annoying game, though. Their suggested locations told him something of their general state of mind, as his probably did in return. His first two tries had been populated areas. A baseball stadium in downtown Logden. A public park in the nearby town of Karina.
Typically, public settings were supposed to give a sense of comfort for meetings that might otherwise be uneasy. A way of ensuring neither party got any ideas about making a scene.
But these Rainlords knew better, of course. He hadn't really expected them to agree. They would've been placing themselves at a tremendous disadvantage, what with their hearts that bled for civilians and so-called "innocents."
Still, though, it would've been funny if they'd agreed. Careless and stupid of them, but funny. And it had been a simple way of testing them. If they'd said yes to those, then clearly they hadn't brought their best and brightest to Vantalay.
Naturally, their suggestions were the opposite. Isolated areas, far away from people. Truthfully, any of them would've been fine. Vanderberk was just fucking with them because he could.
But the news from Melmoore was troubling enough that he supposed he should stop being a dick already and get on with it. They were suggesting a place called Dakinsalla.
Oddly enough, he was already familiar with the name. It belonged to a waterfall basin, relatively nearby but still nestled deep in the mountains, just like Logden itself was.
He'd been there before. It was a favored spot of one of Gohvis' mutant followers. A real weirdo named Lucanus. The guy probably wouldn't be too pleased to find the place utterly obliterated upon his eventual return.
But eh, fuck him.
Vanderberk went over to the Rainkid. "Tell them I agree," he said, allowing the kid to move his head again. "Dakinsalla is fine. Nod if they've gotten the message."
And he waited.
The reason the Rainlords had sent him a letter instead of just using the kid to relay their suggestion was because Thaddeus had crushed the kid's windpipe yesterday. Vanderberk still wasn't sure why. He only knew that there'd been a conversation, and Thaddeus hadn't liked whatever the kid had to say to him.
Vanderberk had not been pleased. He nearly sent Thaddeus back to Ridgemark. If he didn't want the Killer with him during the meeting, then he absolutely would have.
Typically, public settings were supposed to give a sense of comfort for meetings that might otherwise be uneasy. A way of ensuring neither party got any ideas about making a scene.
But these Rainlords knew better, of course. He hadn't really expected them to agree. They would've been placing themselves at a tremendous disadvantage, what with their hearts that bled for civilians and so-called "innocents."
Still, though, it would've been funny if they'd agreed. Careless and stupid of them, but funny. And it had been a simple way of testing them. If they'd said yes to those, then clearly they hadn't brought their best and brightest to Vantalay.
Naturally, their suggestions were the opposite. Isolated areas, far away from people. Truthfully, any of them would've been fine. Vanderberk was just fucking with them because he could.
But the news from Melmoore was troubling enough that he supposed he should stop being a dick already and get on with it. They were suggesting a place called Dakinsalla.
Oddly enough, he was already familiar with the name. It belonged to a waterfall basin, relatively nearby but still nestled deep in the mountains, just like Logden itself was.
He'd been there before. It was a favored spot of one of Gohvis' mutant followers. A real weirdo named Lucanus. The guy probably wouldn't be too pleased to find the place utterly obliterated upon his eventual return.
But eh, fuck him.
Vanderberk went over to the Rainkid. "Tell them I agree," he said, allowing the kid to move his head again. "Dakinsalla is fine. Nod if they've gotten the message."
And he waited.
The reason the Rainlords had sent him a letter instead of just using the kid to relay their suggestion was because Thaddeus had crushed the kid's windpipe yesterday. Vanderberk still wasn't sure why. He only knew that there'd been a conversation, and Thaddeus hadn't liked whatever the kid had to say to him.
Vanderberk had not been pleased. He nearly sent Thaddeus back to Ridgemark. If he didn't want the Killer with him during the meeting, then he absolutely would have.
Next page will go up at noon tomorrow
Thanks for your patience and/or undestanding and/or tolerance and/or subdued anger. Gosh, you're looking handsome and/or beautiful, today.
Thursday, April 20, 2023
Page 3287
But no. The Monster of the East was too isolated and self-obsessed to see anything of the big picture. Or he just flatly didn't care.
There were many people whom Vanderberk hated in this world, but there may have been none moreso than Gohvis. And not just because the Monster had humiliated him, either.
The lord of the mutants was immune to reason--and a bastard, besides. How much better would this war be going for Abolish if that lazy piece of shit had actually gotten involved? Even just a little?
Vanderberk knew the root of the problem. Gohvis didn't see any of them as comrades or even peers. He placed himself on the same level as Dozer and Morgunov--hell, maybe even higher. Such was his overblown ego. Vanderberk so badly would've liked to see one of the emperors humble that unruly lizard. And the more time that went by, the more likely it seemed that such a clash was inevitable. Vanderberk only hoped that he would be there when it happened.
A knock on the office door arrived, and Vanderberk looked up. "Enter," he said in Valgan.
A vaguely familiar face appeared. One of runners, though Vanderberk couldn't recall the name. There was usually no point. Here in Abolish, runners didn't last long enough to warrant remembering. It was probably among the deadliest jobs in the world.
"For you, sir." The runner placed a note on the desk, gave a quick bow, and then was off again, satchel bouncing against his waist as he sped away.
Wise to not stay. Maybe that one would survive longer than most. Bad news tended to bring out the worst in him and his men.
It was not bad news, however. Just an update from the Rainlords. They had suggested another location to meet.
There had been an annoying back-and-forth between him and them while they tried to agree on where best to discuss things further. Obviously, if he'd let them have their first, second, or third choice of location, he would have been giving them an advantage. And while he did not fear them, there was no telling what kind of wily stunt they might try to pull here. Supposedly, they were too honorable for that sort of thing, but they were also wounded and desperate, right now. In a way, that made them more dangerous than normal, not less. It made them unpredictable.
So he'd been refusing their suggested meeting places, and they had been doing the same.
There were many people whom Vanderberk hated in this world, but there may have been none moreso than Gohvis. And not just because the Monster had humiliated him, either.
The lord of the mutants was immune to reason--and a bastard, besides. How much better would this war be going for Abolish if that lazy piece of shit had actually gotten involved? Even just a little?
Vanderberk knew the root of the problem. Gohvis didn't see any of them as comrades or even peers. He placed himself on the same level as Dozer and Morgunov--hell, maybe even higher. Such was his overblown ego. Vanderberk so badly would've liked to see one of the emperors humble that unruly lizard. And the more time that went by, the more likely it seemed that such a clash was inevitable. Vanderberk only hoped that he would be there when it happened.
A knock on the office door arrived, and Vanderberk looked up. "Enter," he said in Valgan.
A vaguely familiar face appeared. One of runners, though Vanderberk couldn't recall the name. There was usually no point. Here in Abolish, runners didn't last long enough to warrant remembering. It was probably among the deadliest jobs in the world.
"For you, sir." The runner placed a note on the desk, gave a quick bow, and then was off again, satchel bouncing against his waist as he sped away.
Wise to not stay. Maybe that one would survive longer than most. Bad news tended to bring out the worst in him and his men.
It was not bad news, however. Just an update from the Rainlords. They had suggested another location to meet.
There had been an annoying back-and-forth between him and them while they tried to agree on where best to discuss things further. Obviously, if he'd let them have their first, second, or third choice of location, he would have been giving them an advantage. And while he did not fear them, there was no telling what kind of wily stunt they might try to pull here. Supposedly, they were too honorable for that sort of thing, but they were also wounded and desperate, right now. In a way, that made them more dangerous than normal, not less. It made them unpredictable.
So he'd been refusing their suggested meeting places, and they had been doing the same.
Wednesday, April 19, 2023
Page 3286
To Vanderberk's mind, a meeting such as that would only be for one reason. Preliminary peace negotiations. Most probably, for Corrico's eventual surrender. Things were going too well for Melmoore right now for it to be anything else.
Damn, it was too soon. He couldn't leave Vantalay yet. Perhaps he could send someone to bolster Corrico's forces, but who? Agh. He wanted to wait until Graves' name popped up again before committing any men to such an endeavor. There was a decent possibility that Graves was headed to Melmoore, and if so, then sending more men there would be a waste of resources unless Jercash was also sending some. Or Dozer, that old bastard.
Agh. If the Melmoorian invasion was to be salvaged, then something would have to be shaken loose soon, either here in Vantalay or one of the other fronts. Corrico surrendering so early would lead into Ostra being overwhelmed not long thereafter, and then the Vanguard would be able to divert even more men or resources to other trouble spots.
Such as Sair, where the next report came from. Bloodeye was still having difficulty pushing into the Wetlands, which was at once surprising and also not. The Vanguard presence in that country was so greatly diminished that the task should have been a simple one, but Bloodeye had been stuck for a while now, so the fact that there was no change could not be considered shocking.
The exact question of why was still a persistent one, though. According to various sources, they knew it wasn't Jackson leading the defense over there, at least not directly. So who was the one holding the Vanguard remnants together?
And what was this about a failed venture into Lorent? Banda Toro had been slain, too?
Everywhere they went, it seemed the same story was playing out. Local warriors causing headaches. It was hard to argue that Abolish's heavy focus on the Vanguard had made it all but blind to the many other threats in the world.
This was where Ivan's presence was sorely missed, Vanderberk felt. If he were still with them, then many of these lesser-known opponents would not have been able to take them by surprise. Jercash's replacements for the Salesman of Death could only do so much on such short notice.
As ever, many of these issues could in some way be traced back to Gohvis. If only he had listened to Vanderberk when they clashed and gone to retrieve Ivan. So much of this might have been avoided now.
Damn, it was too soon. He couldn't leave Vantalay yet. Perhaps he could send someone to bolster Corrico's forces, but who? Agh. He wanted to wait until Graves' name popped up again before committing any men to such an endeavor. There was a decent possibility that Graves was headed to Melmoore, and if so, then sending more men there would be a waste of resources unless Jercash was also sending some. Or Dozer, that old bastard.
Agh. If the Melmoorian invasion was to be salvaged, then something would have to be shaken loose soon, either here in Vantalay or one of the other fronts. Corrico surrendering so early would lead into Ostra being overwhelmed not long thereafter, and then the Vanguard would be able to divert even more men or resources to other trouble spots.
Such as Sair, where the next report came from. Bloodeye was still having difficulty pushing into the Wetlands, which was at once surprising and also not. The Vanguard presence in that country was so greatly diminished that the task should have been a simple one, but Bloodeye had been stuck for a while now, so the fact that there was no change could not be considered shocking.
The exact question of why was still a persistent one, though. According to various sources, they knew it wasn't Jackson leading the defense over there, at least not directly. So who was the one holding the Vanguard remnants together?
And what was this about a failed venture into Lorent? Banda Toro had been slain, too?
Everywhere they went, it seemed the same story was playing out. Local warriors causing headaches. It was hard to argue that Abolish's heavy focus on the Vanguard had made it all but blind to the many other threats in the world.
This was where Ivan's presence was sorely missed, Vanderberk felt. If he were still with them, then many of these lesser-known opponents would not have been able to take them by surprise. Jercash's replacements for the Salesman of Death could only do so much on such short notice.
As ever, many of these issues could in some way be traced back to Gohvis. If only he had listened to Vanderberk when they clashed and gone to retrieve Ivan. So much of this might have been avoided now.
Tuesday, April 18, 2023
Page 3285
The warden rattled off a few more apologies and then shuffled out of the room. Hopefully, he didn't intend to follow the Tiger and try to get his vice-warden back, otherwise Logden Prison would be needing two new leaders come the morrow.
With everyone but the Rainkid gone, it seemed the entertainment was over for now. Vanderberk exhaled a sigh and eyed the briefcase by his side. He did still have plenty of reports to go over, so he supposed he should take advantage of the down time while it lasted. He usually hated paperwork, but recently, the reports had gotten more interesting, thanks to the war. Being able to get updates on how things were progressing across the continent made all the reading a bit less dry.
Let's see here...
This first one was about Czacoa. Ah. Risto and Voss had broken through the enemy lines? Finally. Oh, but wait, they'd been pushed back. Shit. So much for that. Who pushed them back? Looked like a man named... Harva Zon.
Hmm. Someone else to keep an eye on, he supposed.
The next report was from Melmoore. He prepared himself for bad news. They seemed to be struggling the hardest over there, which perhaps wasn't so surprising since none of their most powerful warriors had been sent to either of those two fronts--the logic being that they were few in number and shouldn't even have been needed, besides. Between Corrico invading from the south and Ostra invading from the north, Melmoore should have been among the easier conquests, even if it was one of the three so-called "continental superpowers."
At the outbreak of the war, there had been no prominent Vanguardians stationed there, other than the Surgeon Saint, and he didn't become famous because of his fighting ability.
But apparently, much like here in Vantalay, there were local warriors making an impact over there. And the Surgeon was being no pushover, himself. By now, he'd already decimated two major offensives into the country with little more than a handful of troops at his disposal. Plus, there'd been rumors of ghosts roaming around, haunting encampments, slaughtering men while they slept, and otherwise sowing terror among the ranks.
And indeed, this new report was not a welcome one, either. An informant had learned of a secret meeting to take place in two days between influential political leaders from both Corrico and Melmoore.
With everyone but the Rainkid gone, it seemed the entertainment was over for now. Vanderberk exhaled a sigh and eyed the briefcase by his side. He did still have plenty of reports to go over, so he supposed he should take advantage of the down time while it lasted. He usually hated paperwork, but recently, the reports had gotten more interesting, thanks to the war. Being able to get updates on how things were progressing across the continent made all the reading a bit less dry.
Let's see here...
This first one was about Czacoa. Ah. Risto and Voss had broken through the enemy lines? Finally. Oh, but wait, they'd been pushed back. Shit. So much for that. Who pushed them back? Looked like a man named... Harva Zon.
Hmm. Someone else to keep an eye on, he supposed.
The next report was from Melmoore. He prepared himself for bad news. They seemed to be struggling the hardest over there, which perhaps wasn't so surprising since none of their most powerful warriors had been sent to either of those two fronts--the logic being that they were few in number and shouldn't even have been needed, besides. Between Corrico invading from the south and Ostra invading from the north, Melmoore should have been among the easier conquests, even if it was one of the three so-called "continental superpowers."
At the outbreak of the war, there had been no prominent Vanguardians stationed there, other than the Surgeon Saint, and he didn't become famous because of his fighting ability.
But apparently, much like here in Vantalay, there were local warriors making an impact over there. And the Surgeon was being no pushover, himself. By now, he'd already decimated two major offensives into the country with little more than a handful of troops at his disposal. Plus, there'd been rumors of ghosts roaming around, haunting encampments, slaughtering men while they slept, and otherwise sowing terror among the ranks.
And indeed, this new report was not a welcome one, either. An informant had learned of a secret meeting to take place in two days between influential political leaders from both Corrico and Melmoore.
Monday, April 17, 2023
Page 3284
The argument between the wardens reached a suddenly heightened pitch, prompting Vanderberk to start paying attention again.
"There must be recompense!" said the vice-warden in Valgan. "The prisoner must be made an example of for all to see! Cell Block Y will not settle for anything less! They are already our most volatile guards! If we do nothing to soothe their anger, this problem will worsen!"
Recompense? For what? Oh, were they upset at his treatment of them, Vanderberk wondered? Fragile little egos for fragile little men. A tale as old as time. But wait. Who then was this prisoner they wanted to punish?
"Such a request is improper and unwise!" said the warden. "Cease your blustering! There is a bigger picture here!" He turned to Vanderberk. "Forgive my vice-warden, sir. He speaks out of turn and knows not the level of respect that you and anyone in your custody deserves."
Oh, were they talking about the Rainlord kid over there? Vanderberk snickered. They wanted to make an example out of him?
Ah, that was right, wasn't it? The kid did make all of their veteran guardsmen look like fools, after all.
Idiots. Throwing a fit after the fact wasn't making them look any better. But perhaps the vice-warden was exaggerating their frustration. Middle management had a tendency to behave that way. Professing to do something for the sake of those below them, when in reality those below them couldn't have given less of a shit.
No telling. Vanderberk saw Marda eyeing him, silently waiting for permission. Vanderberk gave him a nod.
The vice-warden spoke up again, but he didn't even make it through his first word before Raga Marda's thick hand found his neck. The vice-warden clutched at the hand, vainly trying to free himself as Marda dragged him out of the office and out of Vanderberk's sight.
This was far from the first time that Marda had handled things in such a way. Honestly, Vanderberk wasn't even sure what the Tiger did with all the people he'd dragged off like that over the years. At first, Vanderberk had thought he was just throwing them out like a typical bouncer, but he'd recently heard some rumors from the men that Marda was actually chopping them up and eating them. Or flaying alive. Or collecting their brains in jars as gifts for Morgunov. Or all of the above, perhaps.
Vanderberk might have to ask him about that later.
"There must be recompense!" said the vice-warden in Valgan. "The prisoner must be made an example of for all to see! Cell Block Y will not settle for anything less! They are already our most volatile guards! If we do nothing to soothe their anger, this problem will worsen!"
Recompense? For what? Oh, were they upset at his treatment of them, Vanderberk wondered? Fragile little egos for fragile little men. A tale as old as time. But wait. Who then was this prisoner they wanted to punish?
"Such a request is improper and unwise!" said the warden. "Cease your blustering! There is a bigger picture here!" He turned to Vanderberk. "Forgive my vice-warden, sir. He speaks out of turn and knows not the level of respect that you and anyone in your custody deserves."
Oh, were they talking about the Rainlord kid over there? Vanderberk snickered. They wanted to make an example out of him?
Ah, that was right, wasn't it? The kid did make all of their veteran guardsmen look like fools, after all.
Idiots. Throwing a fit after the fact wasn't making them look any better. But perhaps the vice-warden was exaggerating their frustration. Middle management had a tendency to behave that way. Professing to do something for the sake of those below them, when in reality those below them couldn't have given less of a shit.
No telling. Vanderberk saw Marda eyeing him, silently waiting for permission. Vanderberk gave him a nod.
The vice-warden spoke up again, but he didn't even make it through his first word before Raga Marda's thick hand found his neck. The vice-warden clutched at the hand, vainly trying to free himself as Marda dragged him out of the office and out of Vanderberk's sight.
This was far from the first time that Marda had handled things in such a way. Honestly, Vanderberk wasn't even sure what the Tiger did with all the people he'd dragged off like that over the years. At first, Vanderberk had thought he was just throwing them out like a typical bouncer, but he'd recently heard some rumors from the men that Marda was actually chopping them up and eating them. Or flaying alive. Or collecting their brains in jars as gifts for Morgunov. Or all of the above, perhaps.
Vanderberk might have to ask him about that later.
Sunday, April 16, 2023
Page 3283
The most danger was when boredom took hold, when the enemy was too weak to even demand consideration. Thankfully, between the RPMP and the Rainlords, there were still a few famed opponents left who could keep his men occupied with their pursuit of glory. Darktide, Evangelina Stroud, the Water Dragon of Sair, the Jailer of Ridgemark, the Linebreaker, the Black Artisan. And a couple others whom had yet to be concretely identified.
Vanderberk rolled his neck while he waited patiently, a smile on his face and his feet up on the warden's desk as he also enjoyed the comfort of the warden's soft, velvety chair. The warden himself was standing on the other side of the room, arguing with his vice-warden over something, making yet another amusing fuss that Vanderberk had ceased paying attention to.
Marda was standing next to them and would soon handle whatever their conflict was, if they didn't handle it themselves. The Demon's Tiger was not given to speaking very often, but when he did, he was not one to be ignored, refused, or even argued with.
The little Rainlord young'un sat in the corner of the warden's office, observing silently. Not that he had much choice, of course. Vanderberk had no intention of letting him move a single muscle until this upcoming meeting was finished.
The Rainlords were certainly taking their sweet time getting back to him. No doubt, they were torn about making any sort of deal with him. This was where his infamy became more of a liability than an aid, but he wasn't too concerned, either way. If they couldn't bring themselves to bargain, then he'd be only too happy to make an example out of them, instead. And not just to the rest of Vantalay but also to his own men. It had been a while since he'd last made a big show of things. Wouldn't hurt to give them another reminder of why they should continue to fear him.
Of course, that wouldn't be ideal. The entire reason he was even making the Rainlords an offer in the first place was because getting them out of here with no further difficulty would afford him much more flexibility and resources for bringing this Vantalayan conflict to a swift conclusion, Ridgemark in particular.
Apparently, the RPMP was proving quite the stubborn group of rebels. Vanderberk had yet to encounter any of their three top warriors himself, but according to his men, they were the primary obstacles in the conquest of Ridgemark.
Vanderberk rolled his neck while he waited patiently, a smile on his face and his feet up on the warden's desk as he also enjoyed the comfort of the warden's soft, velvety chair. The warden himself was standing on the other side of the room, arguing with his vice-warden over something, making yet another amusing fuss that Vanderberk had ceased paying attention to.
Marda was standing next to them and would soon handle whatever their conflict was, if they didn't handle it themselves. The Demon's Tiger was not given to speaking very often, but when he did, he was not one to be ignored, refused, or even argued with.
The little Rainlord young'un sat in the corner of the warden's office, observing silently. Not that he had much choice, of course. Vanderberk had no intention of letting him move a single muscle until this upcoming meeting was finished.
The Rainlords were certainly taking their sweet time getting back to him. No doubt, they were torn about making any sort of deal with him. This was where his infamy became more of a liability than an aid, but he wasn't too concerned, either way. If they couldn't bring themselves to bargain, then he'd be only too happy to make an example out of them, instead. And not just to the rest of Vantalay but also to his own men. It had been a while since he'd last made a big show of things. Wouldn't hurt to give them another reminder of why they should continue to fear him.
Of course, that wouldn't be ideal. The entire reason he was even making the Rainlords an offer in the first place was because getting them out of here with no further difficulty would afford him much more flexibility and resources for bringing this Vantalayan conflict to a swift conclusion, Ridgemark in particular.
Apparently, the RPMP was proving quite the stubborn group of rebels. Vanderberk had yet to encounter any of their three top warriors himself, but according to his men, they were the primary obstacles in the conquest of Ridgemark.
Saturday, April 15, 2023
Page 3282
According to his spies and scouts, Graves was off to the Kavia-Hoss front, which was certainly not good news for Jercash, but Vanderberk had already sent word warning him. And even if he hadn't, Jercash probably would've been just fine. The Devil's Knife had a way of coming out on top despite all appearances to the contrary. No doubt, it had much to do with the powerful following he had cultivated for himself.
Now there was a man that Vanderberk felt he could still learn from. If he was being brutally honest with himself, the ability to inspire loyalty was something he'd always struggled with. Abolish's central goals of rampant destruction and genocide made that quite difficult in this modern world. How Jercash managed to pull it off as well as he did, Vanderberk very much wanted to know. The man made it seem so effortless and was always evasive when asked about it directly.
Clever bastard. He didn't want Vanderberk using his tricks to amass a force that could rival his own when the time eventually came for new leadership to take the reins of Abolish.
And in Vanderberk's mind, such a time was soon to arrive. At long last. The first Continental War had proved a similar catalyst. Morgunov and Dozer had hardly budged, of course, but the shake ups everywhere else had been tremendous. In fact, that war had been when Vanderberk first began to distinguish himself as a rising star within the ranks.
Now he was leading. Now he was the one looking for rising stars within his men.
But of course, that was dangerous, too. For some of his men, their concept of career advancement was slaying their superiors and seizing control for themselves. Vanderberk knew he had to be exceedingly cautious, especially because he was the newest and therefore the least respected among the Abolish high command. He would undoubtedly be perceived as the softest target, when compared against the likes of Jercash and Gohvis.
That was, in large part, why he had to be the most ruthless.
If he wasn't proactive in rooting out backstabbers, if he didn't temper his subordinates' ambitions with fear, they would come for him first.
Here in Vantalay, there were several such dangerous candidates. Thaddeus Croll, Raga Marda, Jan Cross. And others, of course. In some sense, they were bigger threats in this conflict than the enemy was.
Now there was a man that Vanderberk felt he could still learn from. If he was being brutally honest with himself, the ability to inspire loyalty was something he'd always struggled with. Abolish's central goals of rampant destruction and genocide made that quite difficult in this modern world. How Jercash managed to pull it off as well as he did, Vanderberk very much wanted to know. The man made it seem so effortless and was always evasive when asked about it directly.
Clever bastard. He didn't want Vanderberk using his tricks to amass a force that could rival his own when the time eventually came for new leadership to take the reins of Abolish.
And in Vanderberk's mind, such a time was soon to arrive. At long last. The first Continental War had proved a similar catalyst. Morgunov and Dozer had hardly budged, of course, but the shake ups everywhere else had been tremendous. In fact, that war had been when Vanderberk first began to distinguish himself as a rising star within the ranks.
Now he was leading. Now he was the one looking for rising stars within his men.
But of course, that was dangerous, too. For some of his men, their concept of career advancement was slaying their superiors and seizing control for themselves. Vanderberk knew he had to be exceedingly cautious, especially because he was the newest and therefore the least respected among the Abolish high command. He would undoubtedly be perceived as the softest target, when compared against the likes of Jercash and Gohvis.
That was, in large part, why he had to be the most ruthless.
If he wasn't proactive in rooting out backstabbers, if he didn't temper his subordinates' ambitions with fear, they would come for him first.
Here in Vantalay, there were several such dangerous candidates. Thaddeus Croll, Raga Marda, Jan Cross. And others, of course. In some sense, they were bigger threats in this conflict than the enemy was.
Friday, April 14, 2023
Page 3281
And even that was debatable. Even with Melmoore, Intar, and Steccat all teaming up against them, Vanderberk didn't think that Abolish would stand no chance, especially if the bosses decided to get more intimately involved in the war again. Heck, such a development might be exactly what was needed in order to prompt them into direct action.
Man, it sure would've been nice if Dozer stepped in, at least. Morgunov had already accomplished more than everyone else combined, so Vanderberk didn't expect him to come back and help out. No doubt, the Mad Demon would be profoundly disappointed in him if Vanderberk thought otherwise.
Morgunov had started this war for them. It was their turn to make him proud.
Dozer, though? Increasingly, Vanderberk didn't know what the others saw in the old man. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen or heard of Dozer achieving anything of significance. It was always just idle chatter. Talk of things that would likely never come to pass. Meetings that went nowhere and pushed nothing forward.
Vanderberk had sent word to him in Ardora, asking for his assistance here in Vantalay, but there had of course been no response. Not even a refusal. Just silence. The disrespect in that was palpable.
The Living Void, they called him. As if he were an incarnation of the Void itself, the all-powerful god that every true heart within Abolish loved and revered. Supposedly.
Vanderberk didn't want to doubt him. Didn't want to hate him. He'd admired Dozer since he was himself just a boy. And being able to meet him had been one of the most amazing experiences of his life.
But these days, he couldn't help feeling like all that praise over all those years might've just been undeserved. Compared to Morgunov, Dozer was... unimpressive.
Maybe it was a good sign that he felt this way, though. Maybe it meant that he was beginning to reach that dizzy height himself, and so the others who stood upon their own mountaintops had ceased looking so far away from him.
Heh. Arrogance, many would call that. Of course they would. He supposed he would just have to show them otherwise.
These Rainlords would be a good start, one way or another. Whether they decided to take him up on his offer or foolishly fight him, it was a winning play here for him. With that bastard Graves having already left Ridgemark, there was now no one in this country who could stand against him.
Man, it sure would've been nice if Dozer stepped in, at least. Morgunov had already accomplished more than everyone else combined, so Vanderberk didn't expect him to come back and help out. No doubt, the Mad Demon would be profoundly disappointed in him if Vanderberk thought otherwise.
Morgunov had started this war for them. It was their turn to make him proud.
Dozer, though? Increasingly, Vanderberk didn't know what the others saw in the old man. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen or heard of Dozer achieving anything of significance. It was always just idle chatter. Talk of things that would likely never come to pass. Meetings that went nowhere and pushed nothing forward.
Vanderberk had sent word to him in Ardora, asking for his assistance here in Vantalay, but there had of course been no response. Not even a refusal. Just silence. The disrespect in that was palpable.
The Living Void, they called him. As if he were an incarnation of the Void itself, the all-powerful god that every true heart within Abolish loved and revered. Supposedly.
Vanderberk didn't want to doubt him. Didn't want to hate him. He'd admired Dozer since he was himself just a boy. And being able to meet him had been one of the most amazing experiences of his life.
But these days, he couldn't help feeling like all that praise over all those years might've just been undeserved. Compared to Morgunov, Dozer was... unimpressive.
Maybe it was a good sign that he felt this way, though. Maybe it meant that he was beginning to reach that dizzy height himself, and so the others who stood upon their own mountaintops had ceased looking so far away from him.
Heh. Arrogance, many would call that. Of course they would. He supposed he would just have to show them otherwise.
These Rainlords would be a good start, one way or another. Whether they decided to take him up on his offer or foolishly fight him, it was a winning play here for him. With that bastard Graves having already left Ridgemark, there was now no one in this country who could stand against him.
Thursday, April 13, 2023
Page 3280
But they had support. From the Vanguard, most obviously, but also from other, quieter sources, Vanderberk knew. Possibly Intar, if the rumors were true, though he didn't know if he believed them. Steccat seemed much more likely to his mind, though he doubted he would ever find proof of that. Those elitist Steccacti pricks were as secretive as they were insufferable, but they had to know that if Vantalay won this war, it wouldn't be good for them in the long term. It would probably just be a matter of a few years until these gutsy Vantalayans decided to launch another invasion north.
And Void willing, Vanderberk would be there for that war, too.
Why Steccat hadn't joined in on the action already, he could probably guess. Sai-hee was rumored to have a vice grip on that country's political landscape, and she hated getting directly involved in war unless someone forced her hand.
Not the best policy, he felt. But what did he know? She was the empress, not him. She probably had other reasons, too.
Other excuses, heh.
And then, of course, there were these Rainlords.
A bigger thorn in his side, he had not experienced in some time. They were entirely unpredictable to his mind, right now: the big wild card in this mess at the edge of the continent.
And in fact, there was an argument to be made that their decisions here could determine the course of the entire war. If the Vantalayan conflict found a decisive victor soon, the winner would then have considerable resources to send to the other fronts.
With Calthos on the verge of complete conquest and Kavia also doing well, help from Vantalay could quite easily push one or even both of those conflicts over the edge in Abolish's favor.
A decisive victory here might very well mean a decisive victory in three out of the five main fronts.
That was the best case scenario, though. Vanderberk knew better than to put all his eggs in that basket. Things rarely went so smoothly. And heck, even if they did, Steccat and Intar would be quite unlikely to standby at that point. Their hands would be forced.
Which, in its own way, would be enough for Abolish. Stirring up a war that involved all three of the Eloan superpowers? That was just about the best thing they could've hoped for, even if the tide then turned against them.
And Void willing, Vanderberk would be there for that war, too.
Why Steccat hadn't joined in on the action already, he could probably guess. Sai-hee was rumored to have a vice grip on that country's political landscape, and she hated getting directly involved in war unless someone forced her hand.
Not the best policy, he felt. But what did he know? She was the empress, not him. She probably had other reasons, too.
Other excuses, heh.
And then, of course, there were these Rainlords.
A bigger thorn in his side, he had not experienced in some time. They were entirely unpredictable to his mind, right now: the big wild card in this mess at the edge of the continent.
And in fact, there was an argument to be made that their decisions here could determine the course of the entire war. If the Vantalayan conflict found a decisive victor soon, the winner would then have considerable resources to send to the other fronts.
With Calthos on the verge of complete conquest and Kavia also doing well, help from Vantalay could quite easily push one or even both of those conflicts over the edge in Abolish's favor.
A decisive victory here might very well mean a decisive victory in three out of the five main fronts.
That was the best case scenario, though. Vanderberk knew better than to put all his eggs in that basket. Things rarely went so smoothly. And heck, even if they did, Steccat and Intar would be quite unlikely to standby at that point. Their hands would be forced.
Which, in its own way, would be enough for Abolish. Stirring up a war that involved all three of the Eloan superpowers? That was just about the best thing they could've hoped for, even if the tide then turned against them.
Wednesday, April 12, 2023
Page 3279 -- CCLXXVII.
Casual though she sounded, Hector had to take pause at what she was doing here. It looked harmless enough, he supposed, but this was also the first time he was seeing a Sparrow using their mind powers to manipulate a person's body. "Is that... just your normal telekinesis?" he asked. "Or are you actually manipulating their brains in order to make their limbs move?" Perhaps that was a distinction without a difference, but to him, the latter seemed far scarier than the former.
Pauline tilted her head at him, taking a moment to deliberate. 'It's telekinesis. I don't think taking over the brain in such a way is even possible.'
Hector doubted that. Not her word but her opinion. Impossible? Unlikely. Such a power was far too similar to that of Geoffrey Rofal. Maybe he was mistaken and aberration abilities were not really comparable, but he had a feeling that there weren't many things that were truly impossible in this world.
Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Seven: 'O, pernicious Weasel...'
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Boy, these Vantalayans were a real mess. Both politically and psychologically, they were all over the place. Saying one thing, doing the opposite. Arguing over minutiae and trivialities for hours. Perceiving slights left and right. Reading the absolute worst into every single person who didn't share their heady opinions about how their government should function.
Vanderberk found them hilarious.
So easy to provoke. One little word, one little idea floated in their direction--that was all it took to set some of these people off.
He had to give them credit, though. They weren't cowards. They spoke their minds, even to their bosses. Even to their bosses' bosses.
Even to him.
Granted, the latter was none too smart on their part, but Vanderberk could respect it. Not enough to let the ones who annoyed him live, but he could respect it. He made sure they were properly buried afterward, at least. Courage deserved some kind of reward, after all.
This whole war front was quite the shit show. The Vantalayan borders were a constant battleground in both the east and west. Vantalay, alone, was fighting four separate nations in this war. Lyste in the west, and Naos, Yena Maria, and Czacoa in the east. Thankfully, those last three were tiny countries with scarcely enough independent military power to take down a few violent smugglers, let alone the Vantalayan Armed Forces.
Pauline tilted her head at him, taking a moment to deliberate. 'It's telekinesis. I don't think taking over the brain in such a way is even possible.'
Hector doubted that. Not her word but her opinion. Impossible? Unlikely. Such a power was far too similar to that of Geoffrey Rofal. Maybe he was mistaken and aberration abilities were not really comparable, but he had a feeling that there weren't many things that were truly impossible in this world.
Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Seven: 'O, pernicious Weasel...'
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Boy, these Vantalayans were a real mess. Both politically and psychologically, they were all over the place. Saying one thing, doing the opposite. Arguing over minutiae and trivialities for hours. Perceiving slights left and right. Reading the absolute worst into every single person who didn't share their heady opinions about how their government should function.
Vanderberk found them hilarious.
So easy to provoke. One little word, one little idea floated in their direction--that was all it took to set some of these people off.
He had to give them credit, though. They weren't cowards. They spoke their minds, even to their bosses. Even to their bosses' bosses.
Even to him.
Granted, the latter was none too smart on their part, but Vanderberk could respect it. Not enough to let the ones who annoyed him live, but he could respect it. He made sure they were properly buried afterward, at least. Courage deserved some kind of reward, after all.
This whole war front was quite the shit show. The Vantalayan borders were a constant battleground in both the east and west. Vantalay, alone, was fighting four separate nations in this war. Lyste in the west, and Naos, Yena Maria, and Czacoa in the east. Thankfully, those last three were tiny countries with scarcely enough independent military power to take down a few violent smugglers, let alone the Vantalayan Armed Forces.
Tuesday, April 11, 2023
Page 3278
He clapped the dark armor back on and launched himself all the way up to her nest with a single, precise platform. The power behind the platform had to be just right in order for him to stick his landing with any kind of grace, but unfortunately, he didn't yet have enough experience using platforms while wearing this new armor.
He undershot it and just barely managed to grab the ledge before falling back down. He needed the aid of a hovering platform in order to pull himself over fully.
Dammit, said a background thought process. That was dumb. This armor was way heavier, so of course a move like that would be harder. He should've just raised a platform up like an elevator instead of trying to be all quick and flashy like a cool guy.
Pauline was invisible, as were all the people around her, but Hector could sense that she was staring at him now.
Well, that was embarrassing.
The invisibility melted away as she presumably realized there was no need for it.
And Hector could see the situation more clearly. The people surrounding her were rather odd-looking. They were still moving, though only just--and quite stiltedly, too. And their eyes--they were about as empty as could be. As if the lights were on but nobody was home.
'And here we have the Lord Goffe,' said Pauline. 'Wave hello, everyone!'
They all waved in perfect unison, though their movements were not smooth or natural-looking at all.
Hector began to get the picture "...What are you doing?" he said with a sigh.
'Oh, just killing time while I await some dashing hero to come check on me and make sure I'm not dead. What took you so long, huh? I get bored easily, you know.'
"I can see that..."
'Heh. Just thought I'd have some fun with our prisoners. I haven't played with humans like this since I was just a little chick.' Her feathers bristled for a moment. 'Because it's unethical to do on normal people, I mean. I didn't know any better back then. Hadn't yet developed into the mature and charming beacon of moral virtue that I am today.'
Hector abruptly felt stupid for having worried.
'Nice armor you got there, by the way,' she went on. 'Making a new fashion statement? Quite dark and scary. Oh, is it to intimidate your enemies? You should add some horns in that case. Or like an evil face, maybe.'
He undershot it and just barely managed to grab the ledge before falling back down. He needed the aid of a hovering platform in order to pull himself over fully.
Dammit, said a background thought process. That was dumb. This armor was way heavier, so of course a move like that would be harder. He should've just raised a platform up like an elevator instead of trying to be all quick and flashy like a cool guy.
Pauline was invisible, as were all the people around her, but Hector could sense that she was staring at him now.
Well, that was embarrassing.
The invisibility melted away as she presumably realized there was no need for it.
And Hector could see the situation more clearly. The people surrounding her were rather odd-looking. They were still moving, though only just--and quite stiltedly, too. And their eyes--they were about as empty as could be. As if the lights were on but nobody was home.
'And here we have the Lord Goffe,' said Pauline. 'Wave hello, everyone!'
They all waved in perfect unison, though their movements were not smooth or natural-looking at all.
Hector began to get the picture "...What are you doing?" he said with a sigh.
'Oh, just killing time while I await some dashing hero to come check on me and make sure I'm not dead. What took you so long, huh? I get bored easily, you know.'
"I can see that..."
'Heh. Just thought I'd have some fun with our prisoners. I haven't played with humans like this since I was just a little chick.' Her feathers bristled for a moment. 'Because it's unethical to do on normal people, I mean. I didn't know any better back then. Hadn't yet developed into the mature and charming beacon of moral virtue that I am today.'
Hector abruptly felt stupid for having worried.
'Nice armor you got there, by the way,' she went on. 'Making a new fashion statement? Quite dark and scary. Oh, is it to intimidate your enemies? You should add some horns in that case. Or like an evil face, maybe.'
Monday, April 10, 2023
Page 3277
"Sazandara has been captured," said Haqq.
Hector's eyes widened a little. That was news to him. "Do you know where she is being held?"
Haqq shook his head. And after a moment, he seemed to realize something. "Ah, but I should clarify. She was not captured by Abolish, which is a small mercy, I suppose."
'If not by Abolish, then who?' said Garovel.
"Hahl Mateen." Haqq's weary gaze became briefly sterner as the name left his lips. "She was visiting them when word of the invasion arrived. A perfectly amicable meeting between old friends. Until that news changed everything. The Mateens went into hiding and took her with them, as their prisoner."
A glum silence filled the air until Garovel's soft voice broke it. 'They must not want her feeding you information regarding their whereabouts.'
"That is what she surmised, as well," said Haqq.
Damn. Hector knew the relations between the Hahls were bad, right now, but taking prisoners? That spoke of an extreme degree of paranoia. Or even malicious intent, maybe. If they wanted bargaining chips for future negotiations, then reapers made for pretty strong ones.
"But at least I know they will not harm her." The man sighed. "Unlike my brother..."
Agh. Hector felt for him. He wished there was some way of helping Asad. Knowing that he was in Morgunov's clutches couldn't have been much more comforting than news that he'd been killed. "Rasalased told me that he thinks Asad will make it through this."
Okay, maybe Rasalased hadn't used those exact words, but that had been the general sentiment that Hector had inferred.
Haqq didn't look particularly comforted, however.
Hector decided to drop the subject.
Before they got any closer to Pauline's nest, Hector suddenly thought better of having Haqq present for this. He doubted that she would appreciate being introduced to more strangers.
Well, her father wouldn't appreciate it, at least. She'd probably be delighted, now that he was thinking about it.
Either way, Hector asked Haqq to return to the castle, too. The man protested, though not hard, and then was off.
Pauline's nest was in the center of the decoy castle, at the top of an iron tower. He planned to provide her with a better one, eventually, but thus far, she'd seemed largely satisfied with it.
Thankfully, he could already sense her there via the Scarf of Amordiin.
But she was not alone. Which alarmed him.
Hector sensed the outlines of many other people surrounding her.
Hector's eyes widened a little. That was news to him. "Do you know where she is being held?"
Haqq shook his head. And after a moment, he seemed to realize something. "Ah, but I should clarify. She was not captured by Abolish, which is a small mercy, I suppose."
'If not by Abolish, then who?' said Garovel.
"Hahl Mateen." Haqq's weary gaze became briefly sterner as the name left his lips. "She was visiting them when word of the invasion arrived. A perfectly amicable meeting between old friends. Until that news changed everything. The Mateens went into hiding and took her with them, as their prisoner."
A glum silence filled the air until Garovel's soft voice broke it. 'They must not want her feeding you information regarding their whereabouts.'
"That is what she surmised, as well," said Haqq.
Damn. Hector knew the relations between the Hahls were bad, right now, but taking prisoners? That spoke of an extreme degree of paranoia. Or even malicious intent, maybe. If they wanted bargaining chips for future negotiations, then reapers made for pretty strong ones.
"But at least I know they will not harm her." The man sighed. "Unlike my brother..."
Agh. Hector felt for him. He wished there was some way of helping Asad. Knowing that he was in Morgunov's clutches couldn't have been much more comforting than news that he'd been killed. "Rasalased told me that he thinks Asad will make it through this."
Okay, maybe Rasalased hadn't used those exact words, but that had been the general sentiment that Hector had inferred.
Haqq didn't look particularly comforted, however.
Hector decided to drop the subject.
Before they got any closer to Pauline's nest, Hector suddenly thought better of having Haqq present for this. He doubted that she would appreciate being introduced to more strangers.
Well, her father wouldn't appreciate it, at least. She'd probably be delighted, now that he was thinking about it.
Either way, Hector asked Haqq to return to the castle, too. The man protested, though not hard, and then was off.
Pauline's nest was in the center of the decoy castle, at the top of an iron tower. He planned to provide her with a better one, eventually, but thus far, she'd seemed largely satisfied with it.
Thankfully, he could already sense her there via the Scarf of Amordiin.
But she was not alone. Which alarmed him.
Hector sensed the outlines of many other people surrounding her.
Sunday, April 9, 2023
Page 3276
Haqq Najir, of course, was a man that he had met before, back at the Golden Fort in Sair. He was also the brother of Asad Najir. And in their last meeting, Haqq had not been particularly nice.
Hector had known that Haqq was with Hahl Saqqaf's entourage this whole time, but he had yet to actually have a face-to-face with the man again. Which seemed strange, considering how prominent of a figure Haqq was within the Sandlords. And Hector had been wanting to talk to him, too, if only to see how the man was handling the news of his brother's capture at Uego.
But Hector had just been so busy. And seeking Haqq out hadn't seemed that important.
Here and now, Haqq Najir was looking rather haggard--not very much like the busy, attentive man of science that he had before.
Perhaps that wasn't so surprising, though. His escape from Sair had no doubt been a harrowing one. In fact, the look on his bespectacled face reminded Hector of Salvador Delaguna, a man who had lost many family members recently.
Thinking about all that, it was hard to keep the concern from his voice, but he tried. "Hello again, Lord Haqq," said Hector, offering a handshake.
It took the man a few moments to shake it and meet Hector's gaze. "Hello, Lord Goffe..."
Hector felt like he should say something more, but nothing came to mind. And a brief silence arrived.
Abbas seized the opening. "Well, it would seem that I am not needed in the defense of Warrenhold," he said, "so if it is all the same to you Lord Goffe, I shall simply leave a couple of my sons here with you and then return to Lorent. There is more work that I would see done. Perhaps you could call me when you are prepared for the examination?"
Hector gave the man an affirmative nod. "Alright."
And since he was already heading in that direction, Hector ventured with them back up through the Entry Tower and saw them off. Apparently, they'd brought a helicopter, though not all of them needed to use it.
Only a handful of Saqqafs remained behind, along with Haqq Najir.
Hector bid the others to go back down into the castle and make themselves at home, but Haqq stayed with him, as per his assignment.
Then it was just Hector, Haqq, and Garovel.
'...Where is your reaper?' asked Garovel.
Hector had known that Haqq was with Hahl Saqqaf's entourage this whole time, but he had yet to actually have a face-to-face with the man again. Which seemed strange, considering how prominent of a figure Haqq was within the Sandlords. And Hector had been wanting to talk to him, too, if only to see how the man was handling the news of his brother's capture at Uego.
But Hector had just been so busy. And seeking Haqq out hadn't seemed that important.
Here and now, Haqq Najir was looking rather haggard--not very much like the busy, attentive man of science that he had before.
Perhaps that wasn't so surprising, though. His escape from Sair had no doubt been a harrowing one. In fact, the look on his bespectacled face reminded Hector of Salvador Delaguna, a man who had lost many family members recently.
Thinking about all that, it was hard to keep the concern from his voice, but he tried. "Hello again, Lord Haqq," said Hector, offering a handshake.
It took the man a few moments to shake it and meet Hector's gaze. "Hello, Lord Goffe..."
Hector felt like he should say something more, but nothing came to mind. And a brief silence arrived.
Abbas seized the opening. "Well, it would seem that I am not needed in the defense of Warrenhold," he said, "so if it is all the same to you Lord Goffe, I shall simply leave a couple of my sons here with you and then return to Lorent. There is more work that I would see done. Perhaps you could call me when you are prepared for the examination?"
Hector gave the man an affirmative nod. "Alright."
And since he was already heading in that direction, Hector ventured with them back up through the Entry Tower and saw them off. Apparently, they'd brought a helicopter, though not all of them needed to use it.
Only a handful of Saqqafs remained behind, along with Haqq Najir.
Hector bid the others to go back down into the castle and make themselves at home, but Haqq stayed with him, as per his assignment.
Then it was just Hector, Haqq, and Garovel.
'...Where is your reaper?' asked Garovel.
Saturday, April 8, 2023
Page 3275
He also needed to update the Queen, of course, but checking up on Pauline's well-being was more pressing, he felt. While he was fairly sure that the Sparrow hadn't gotten hurt during the fight, he wanted to be certain. Plus, there were a few other things he needed to talk to her about.
The trek was annoyingly long, though. All the way back down the Tower of Night, across the courtyard. But before he could make it back to the Entry Tower, however, the Saqqafs found him again.
"You are not resting?" said Abbas.
"I was going to, but I forgot to take care of some things," he said. "Did you need something?"
"I wasn't going to bother you, but while you're here--" Abbas was still armored up, and he showed both of his empty hands to Hector, which was momentarily confusing. "--the helmet you gave me to examine has disappeared."
What? Oh. That was strange. Had he done that accidentally when he dematerialized the rest of the armor? He rematerialized it into his hand and offered it again. "Huh. Sorry about that."
Abbas took it, then held up an armored finger. "One moment, please." Then he leapt away from the ground, rocketing up toward the distant cavern ceiling, reaching all the way to the place where the Tower of Night met the gray stalactites. He hovered there for a second, then came quickly back down and landed in exactly the same spot.
Hector noticed instantly. The dark helmet was no longer in his hands.
"Yes," said Abbas. "You did not do that, I assume? It appears to be dematerializing on its own once it is beyond a certain proximity to you."
Oh.
Hmm.
"This material is clearly quite different from your normal iron," said Abbas. "It even breaks the conventional rules of materialization."
Hector scratched his temple. "Well, that's good to know, at least. I guess I won't be making any spare copies of my armor, then."
"It would seem so. And if I am to study this material, you must remain close to me."
Dang. "Then I suppose we'll do that later. The other things I have to do right now can't wait."
"I thought you might say that," said Abbas. He nodded to someone behind him, then waved them closer. "In that case, Haqq will follow you around and perform preliminary examinations on it for us."
And Hector blinked as Haqq Najir stepped forward.
The trek was annoyingly long, though. All the way back down the Tower of Night, across the courtyard. But before he could make it back to the Entry Tower, however, the Saqqafs found him again.
"You are not resting?" said Abbas.
"I was going to, but I forgot to take care of some things," he said. "Did you need something?"
"I wasn't going to bother you, but while you're here--" Abbas was still armored up, and he showed both of his empty hands to Hector, which was momentarily confusing. "--the helmet you gave me to examine has disappeared."
What? Oh. That was strange. Had he done that accidentally when he dematerialized the rest of the armor? He rematerialized it into his hand and offered it again. "Huh. Sorry about that."
Abbas took it, then held up an armored finger. "One moment, please." Then he leapt away from the ground, rocketing up toward the distant cavern ceiling, reaching all the way to the place where the Tower of Night met the gray stalactites. He hovered there for a second, then came quickly back down and landed in exactly the same spot.
Hector noticed instantly. The dark helmet was no longer in his hands.
"Yes," said Abbas. "You did not do that, I assume? It appears to be dematerializing on its own once it is beyond a certain proximity to you."
Oh.
Hmm.
"This material is clearly quite different from your normal iron," said Abbas. "It even breaks the conventional rules of materialization."
Hector scratched his temple. "Well, that's good to know, at least. I guess I won't be making any spare copies of my armor, then."
"It would seem so. And if I am to study this material, you must remain close to me."
Dang. "Then I suppose we'll do that later. The other things I have to do right now can't wait."
"I thought you might say that," said Abbas. He nodded to someone behind him, then waved them closer. "In that case, Haqq will follow you around and perform preliminary examinations on it for us."
And Hector blinked as Haqq Najir stepped forward.
Friday, April 7, 2023
Page 3274
<"Very well, then. But who was it that attacked you, exactly? Did you get their names?">
"Banda Toro was their leader."
There arrived a rustling sound. <"You fought Banda Toro?!">
"Yeah." Briefly, Hector considered mentioning the Magician of Light, too. It might be fun to hear Carl's reaction to that. He decided against it, though. He didn't know if Xander would appreciate having his name thrown around for shits and giggles. "He brought a party of twenty-seven."
<"Twen--?!">
Not all of them had escaped or been killed. Some, Pauline had managed to capture with her psychic powers. What to do with them, Hector still had to decide. Thankfully, Warrenhold was not lacking space for prisoners, and he would likely have plenty more time to mull his decision over. Joana Cortes had taken point on handling them. He'd have to talk to her soon.
As for this conversation, however, Hector wasn't totally comfortable telling all of the details to Carl--specifically, the fact that he had captured Banda Toro's reaper. He knew only too well now that Carl was reporting on him back to his superiors in the Vanguard.
He could still tell Carl one more thing, though. "Banda Toro is dead."
<"You... you slew the Raptor of Kortan?">
Egh. Technically, no. But he didn't want Carl to ask about the reaper. So he decided to ignore the question and move on. "With their scouting mission a failure, I'm not sure what Bloodeye's next move will be. If he doesn't invade Lorent soon, then he may not do it at all, now."
<"Ah... yes, perhaps. His attention is no doubt divided numerous ways. But a scouting party of twenty-seven seems quite a large commitment of resources. Were they all servants?">
"...I'm not sure," Hector admitted. The thought that some of them might have been normal human beings hadn't even entered his mind, but he supposed it was possible.
He felt a bit worse about shredding some of them to pieces with iron. And considering it was Abolish, could some of them have been forced into that mission against their will?
Maybe he would ask Grigozo about that later.
Those were all thoughts for background thought processes, though.
"You should talk to Ravi again. Ask him for an update from whoever his source is."
Carl groaned. <"Fine.">
The Vanguardian had a few more questions for him, but Hector couldn't provide any answers. They soon ended their call, and Hector moved on to his next task.
Finding Pauline.
"Banda Toro was their leader."
There arrived a rustling sound. <"You fought Banda Toro?!">
"Yeah." Briefly, Hector considered mentioning the Magician of Light, too. It might be fun to hear Carl's reaction to that. He decided against it, though. He didn't know if Xander would appreciate having his name thrown around for shits and giggles. "He brought a party of twenty-seven."
<"Twen--?!">
Not all of them had escaped or been killed. Some, Pauline had managed to capture with her psychic powers. What to do with them, Hector still had to decide. Thankfully, Warrenhold was not lacking space for prisoners, and he would likely have plenty more time to mull his decision over. Joana Cortes had taken point on handling them. He'd have to talk to her soon.
As for this conversation, however, Hector wasn't totally comfortable telling all of the details to Carl--specifically, the fact that he had captured Banda Toro's reaper. He knew only too well now that Carl was reporting on him back to his superiors in the Vanguard.
He could still tell Carl one more thing, though. "Banda Toro is dead."
<"You... you slew the Raptor of Kortan?">
Egh. Technically, no. But he didn't want Carl to ask about the reaper. So he decided to ignore the question and move on. "With their scouting mission a failure, I'm not sure what Bloodeye's next move will be. If he doesn't invade Lorent soon, then he may not do it at all, now."
<"Ah... yes, perhaps. His attention is no doubt divided numerous ways. But a scouting party of twenty-seven seems quite a large commitment of resources. Were they all servants?">
"...I'm not sure," Hector admitted. The thought that some of them might have been normal human beings hadn't even entered his mind, but he supposed it was possible.
He felt a bit worse about shredding some of them to pieces with iron. And considering it was Abolish, could some of them have been forced into that mission against their will?
Maybe he would ask Grigozo about that later.
Those were all thoughts for background thought processes, though.
"You should talk to Ravi again. Ask him for an update from whoever his source is."
Carl groaned. <"Fine.">
The Vanguardian had a few more questions for him, but Hector couldn't provide any answers. They soon ended their call, and Hector moved on to his next task.
Finding Pauline.
Thursday, April 6, 2023
Page 3273
'Weren't you just telling me that I need to be more self-confident or some shit?' said Hector.
'That was different.'
'How was it different?'
'It just was. Stop questioning me.'
Hector snickered and shook his head. He rematerialized one of his gauntlets, just to make sure that he could. Yep. Worked just fine. That was a relief, at least.
He yawned. Man, he was exhausted.
And it was more than just his body, he realized. He'd felt this way before. It felt like his soul was tired. Or maybe his aura? Or neither? He had no idea how else to describe this sensation, whatever it was. He just knew he needed to sleep.
He lay back down after dematerializing the last of bits of armor on him. He could change his shredded clothe slater.
Right as his head hit the pillow, however, his eyes eased open and stayed that away.
Because he remembered something else that he'd forgotten.
Multiple somethings, as a matter of fact. All assaulting his mind at once.
Fuck.
He sighed and sat back up. It was going to be a while before he was allowed to get some sleep, he knew.
He looked for his phone. It was there on the night stand next to his bed.
He called Carl Rondel, the Vanguardian advisor to the President of Lorent.
Thankfully, the man picked immediately. <"Yes? Any updates for me?">
"My home was attacked by some of Bloodeye's scouts," said Hector. "But it's been taken care of. What about you? Any news for me?"
<"They attacked Warrenhold?!">
"Yeah, but we're all good, now. No casualties."
<"But there's been no other attacks reported! Why would they skip all the way to your fortress in Atreya without invading Lorent first?">
That was indeed a good question, Hector felt. "It was a scouting party," he reiterated. "Could be that they're still uncertain about whether they should invade Lorent or not."
<"Then Zaman's information was off. The fool said a major offensive into Lorent was imminent.">
"It'd be nice if he was wrong, but it's a bit early to be feeling relieved. You're sure there's been no other activity?"
<"I'm certain. I have men stationed in almost every city in the country, providing constant updates and check-ins. If an attack is launched, I will know of it in minutes, one way or another.">
Hmm. Maybe Carl had more people working for him than Hector thought. "Alright, well, call me if something develops, and I'll provide support however I can."
'That was different.'
'How was it different?'
'It just was. Stop questioning me.'
Hector snickered and shook his head. He rematerialized one of his gauntlets, just to make sure that he could. Yep. Worked just fine. That was a relief, at least.
He yawned. Man, he was exhausted.
And it was more than just his body, he realized. He'd felt this way before. It felt like his soul was tired. Or maybe his aura? Or neither? He had no idea how else to describe this sensation, whatever it was. He just knew he needed to sleep.
He lay back down after dematerializing the last of bits of armor on him. He could change his shredded clothe slater.
Right as his head hit the pillow, however, his eyes eased open and stayed that away.
Because he remembered something else that he'd forgotten.
Multiple somethings, as a matter of fact. All assaulting his mind at once.
Fuck.
He sighed and sat back up. It was going to be a while before he was allowed to get some sleep, he knew.
He looked for his phone. It was there on the night stand next to his bed.
He called Carl Rondel, the Vanguardian advisor to the President of Lorent.
Thankfully, the man picked immediately. <"Yes? Any updates for me?">
"My home was attacked by some of Bloodeye's scouts," said Hector. "But it's been taken care of. What about you? Any news for me?"
<"They attacked Warrenhold?!">
"Yeah, but we're all good, now. No casualties."
<"But there's been no other attacks reported! Why would they skip all the way to your fortress in Atreya without invading Lorent first?">
That was indeed a good question, Hector felt. "It was a scouting party," he reiterated. "Could be that they're still uncertain about whether they should invade Lorent or not."
<"Then Zaman's information was off. The fool said a major offensive into Lorent was imminent.">
"It'd be nice if he was wrong, but it's a bit early to be feeling relieved. You're sure there's been no other activity?"
<"I'm certain. I have men stationed in almost every city in the country, providing constant updates and check-ins. If an attack is launched, I will know of it in minutes, one way or another.">
Hmm. Maybe Carl had more people working for him than Hector thought. "Alright, well, call me if something develops, and I'll provide support however I can."
Wednesday, April 5, 2023
Page 3272
'Of course you don't,' said Garovel. 'But c'mon, now. You just brought down Banda Toro in single combat. Frankly, you had no right winning that. And yet you did.'
'Well, eh... I mean, I didn't really win, though. His reaper released him before the fight could be decided, so--'
'Oh no, no, no. You're not going to get away with doing this again. You always try to pull this shit. Everyone else sees what you did and realizes that it's amazing, but then you constantly find things to nitpick so that you can continue to feel all self-conscious and unworthy of all the praise you've just earned. Nice try, buddy, but not this time.'
'I... uh...'
'Yeah, that's right. You've got nothin' to say, because you know that I'm right and that you're wrong. Just take the win, Hector.'
This seemed like one of those things that Garovel was going to harp on and never let go, for some reason. And while Hector appreciated the reaper's fervor, he didn't feel like getting sucked into some kind of back-and-forth silliness, right now.
Maybe later.
'Alright, Garovel, whatever you say.' He started working on getting his armor off, starting with the gauntlets. They were being stingy, though, as if they were glued to him.
It didn't take long for Garovel comment. 'What're you doing?'
'Trying to get this stuff off.' Agh. Goddammit.
'Just dematerialize it.'
He kept struggling with the first gauntlet. 'This armor is brand new and super weird. I'm kinda worried that if I dematerialize it, I might not be able to rematerialize it.'
'You already rematerialized it, though.'
Hector paused. 'What? No, I didn't.'
'Yeah, pal, you did. When I invoked the healing, back when you were still talking to Grigozo. You dematerialized that shoulder piece there to let me touch you, then immediately rematerialized it thereafter.'
Hector paused again. And kept pausing.
'...Did you really forget?'
Hector puffed up his cheeks as he recalled. Then he exhaled through his mouth. Dammit, the reaper was right.
'Wow,' Garovel went on. 'I know you have the flawed memory of a filthy corporeal being, but goddamn, Hector. That was like twenty minutes ago.'
He dematerialized most of the armor at once. His clothes were shredded, save only the Scarf. 'Why is it that whenever I start to feel kind of smart, I always end up doing something that reminds me I'm actually a big dumbass?'
The reaper chortled. 'Does that really keep happening to you?'
'It sure feels like it!'
'Maybe it's the universe's way of keeping you humble.'
'Well, eh... I mean, I didn't really win, though. His reaper released him before the fight could be decided, so--'
'Oh no, no, no. You're not going to get away with doing this again. You always try to pull this shit. Everyone else sees what you did and realizes that it's amazing, but then you constantly find things to nitpick so that you can continue to feel all self-conscious and unworthy of all the praise you've just earned. Nice try, buddy, but not this time.'
'I... uh...'
'Yeah, that's right. You've got nothin' to say, because you know that I'm right and that you're wrong. Just take the win, Hector.'
This seemed like one of those things that Garovel was going to harp on and never let go, for some reason. And while Hector appreciated the reaper's fervor, he didn't feel like getting sucked into some kind of back-and-forth silliness, right now.
Maybe later.
'Alright, Garovel, whatever you say.' He started working on getting his armor off, starting with the gauntlets. They were being stingy, though, as if they were glued to him.
It didn't take long for Garovel comment. 'What're you doing?'
'Trying to get this stuff off.' Agh. Goddammit.
'Just dematerialize it.'
He kept struggling with the first gauntlet. 'This armor is brand new and super weird. I'm kinda worried that if I dematerialize it, I might not be able to rematerialize it.'
'You already rematerialized it, though.'
Hector paused. 'What? No, I didn't.'
'Yeah, pal, you did. When I invoked the healing, back when you were still talking to Grigozo. You dematerialized that shoulder piece there to let me touch you, then immediately rematerialized it thereafter.'
Hector paused again. And kept pausing.
'...Did you really forget?'
Hector puffed up his cheeks as he recalled. Then he exhaled through his mouth. Dammit, the reaper was right.
'Wow,' Garovel went on. 'I know you have the flawed memory of a filthy corporeal being, but goddamn, Hector. That was like twenty minutes ago.'
He dematerialized most of the armor at once. His clothes were shredded, save only the Scarf. 'Why is it that whenever I start to feel kind of smart, I always end up doing something that reminds me I'm actually a big dumbass?'
The reaper chortled. 'Does that really keep happening to you?'
'It sure feels like it!'
'Maybe it's the universe's way of keeping you humble.'
Tuesday, April 4, 2023
Page 3271
'Wow,' was all Garovel said.
Hector just waited, though. He didn't know how to follow up after saying all that.
Garovel seemed to be having trouble, too. 'Okay, well, um... I really wasn't expecting you to pour your heart out to me like that, Hector. I'm quite uncertain what to say now. How dare you say all of those nice things. You know I don't take sincere compliments well. You have to layer them with sarcasm or insults. Or sarcastic insults.'
'Oh, is that how it is?' said Hector. 'Well, maybe if you weren't so stupid, then you would've understood all of that stuff already and saved me the trouble of saying in the first place.'
'Yeah, okay, that's more like it. Thanks.'
'You're welcome.' Hector lay back on his bed. He still hadn't taken his armor off, save the helmet, which was with Abbas now. He didn't much feel like moving, was the problem. Taking this off was going to be a pain. Or perhaps even impossible.
'...I really mean that much to you, huh?' said Garovel. 'You sure you're not just saying that because the reality of the situation is that keeping me out of combat is the pragmatic thing to do?'
Hector arched his head up to look at the reaper again. 'Of course not. Although, that IS true. If I get killed, it's barely an issue. If you do, we're both fucked. I get that you want to contribute and be helpful, but you already are, Garovel. In so many other ways.'
'Mrgh.'
Hector cocked an eyebrow. 'Did you just growl at me?'
'Maybe. Y'know, it's really unfair when you make your case from both a rational and an emotional standpoint. How the hell am I supposed argue against that, huh? This is bullshit.'
Hector just laughed.
'Alright, you little jerk. Fine. I'll trust your judgment and stop causing a fuss when you run off all by yourself from now on. But I do think we need to train together more. In the event that I'm forced into the fight, it's best if we're prepared for it.'
'I can agree with that.'
'And besides, I'm increasingly coming to believe that the safest place I could possibly be is right there by your side.'
At that, he had to sit up again. 'I'd... like for that to be true, but I don't think I'm there yet, Garovel.'
Hector just waited, though. He didn't know how to follow up after saying all that.
Garovel seemed to be having trouble, too. 'Okay, well, um... I really wasn't expecting you to pour your heart out to me like that, Hector. I'm quite uncertain what to say now. How dare you say all of those nice things. You know I don't take sincere compliments well. You have to layer them with sarcasm or insults. Or sarcastic insults.'
'Oh, is that how it is?' said Hector. 'Well, maybe if you weren't so stupid, then you would've understood all of that stuff already and saved me the trouble of saying in the first place.'
'Yeah, okay, that's more like it. Thanks.'
'You're welcome.' Hector lay back on his bed. He still hadn't taken his armor off, save the helmet, which was with Abbas now. He didn't much feel like moving, was the problem. Taking this off was going to be a pain. Or perhaps even impossible.
'...I really mean that much to you, huh?' said Garovel. 'You sure you're not just saying that because the reality of the situation is that keeping me out of combat is the pragmatic thing to do?'
Hector arched his head up to look at the reaper again. 'Of course not. Although, that IS true. If I get killed, it's barely an issue. If you do, we're both fucked. I get that you want to contribute and be helpful, but you already are, Garovel. In so many other ways.'
'Mrgh.'
Hector cocked an eyebrow. 'Did you just growl at me?'
'Maybe. Y'know, it's really unfair when you make your case from both a rational and an emotional standpoint. How the hell am I supposed argue against that, huh? This is bullshit.'
Hector just laughed.
'Alright, you little jerk. Fine. I'll trust your judgment and stop causing a fuss when you run off all by yourself from now on. But I do think we need to train together more. In the event that I'm forced into the fight, it's best if we're prepared for it.'
'I can agree with that.'
'And besides, I'm increasingly coming to believe that the safest place I could possibly be is right there by your side.'
At that, he had to sit up again. 'I'd... like for that to be true, but I don't think I'm there yet, Garovel.'
Monday, April 3, 2023
Page 3270
'There was no way I could bring you with me on this fight, Garovel. Not when I was so uncertain that I would even be able to DO anything. Exposing you to that kind of danger would've been pointless.'
'The point, my dear friend, is so that I could have helped you. Hector, I realize that you want to keep me safe, but you must also realize that I want to keep you safe, as well. And I can't do that if you keep pushing me away like this.'
Hector finished the journey to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He flipped the light on and found it just as he'd left it. More space than he would probably ever need. His armor continued to clink as he went straight for his bed and sat down.
He didn't start taking off his armor yet, though. He just looked up at the reaper there.
At his best friend.
'Garovel, I don't...' Agh. How was he supposed to put this? He scratched his brow. 'Look. I'm happy that you care about me so much that you're willing to risk your own life in order to protect me. But... you also don't need to act like I am as important to you as you are to me.'
The reaper's skull reared back a little. 'What are you talking about? "Act like?" I'm not acting. You ARE that important to me, Hector. Do you not realize--?'
'No. It's okay. I'm not saying that to be mean. But let's be honest here. I'm just one of... twenty-two servants that you've had, right? So you've been through this song and dance before. Plenty of times.'
'Hector, that doesn't--'
'Listen! It's okay, Garovel! It really is!' Hector almost wanted to laugh. The reaper truly didn't get it, did he? 'I'm not saying that you think of me as just some tool to be used and thrown away or anything like that. Okay? I understand that you're concerned about me. But it's not the same from my end, Garovel. Not even close. To me, you are... you are more important than anything. I mean, you... you saved me.' He shook his head and laughed faintly. 'And I don't just mean with the whole undead thing, either. I mean... when I had no one, I had you.'
Garovel made no response.
'And you're still there for me. You haven't stopped being there for me this whole time. So to say that I'm as important to you as you are to me... well, that's just not true. Because it can't be. The impact I've had on your life doesn't even compare to the impact you've had on mine. Understand? Garovel, if something ever happened to you, like if you were to get captured by Abolish or something, then I... I don't know what I would do.'
'The point, my dear friend, is so that I could have helped you. Hector, I realize that you want to keep me safe, but you must also realize that I want to keep you safe, as well. And I can't do that if you keep pushing me away like this.'
Hector finished the journey to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He flipped the light on and found it just as he'd left it. More space than he would probably ever need. His armor continued to clink as he went straight for his bed and sat down.
He didn't start taking off his armor yet, though. He just looked up at the reaper there.
At his best friend.
'Garovel, I don't...' Agh. How was he supposed to put this? He scratched his brow. 'Look. I'm happy that you care about me so much that you're willing to risk your own life in order to protect me. But... you also don't need to act like I am as important to you as you are to me.'
The reaper's skull reared back a little. 'What are you talking about? "Act like?" I'm not acting. You ARE that important to me, Hector. Do you not realize--?'
'No. It's okay. I'm not saying that to be mean. But let's be honest here. I'm just one of... twenty-two servants that you've had, right? So you've been through this song and dance before. Plenty of times.'
'Hector, that doesn't--'
'Listen! It's okay, Garovel! It really is!' Hector almost wanted to laugh. The reaper truly didn't get it, did he? 'I'm not saying that you think of me as just some tool to be used and thrown away or anything like that. Okay? I understand that you're concerned about me. But it's not the same from my end, Garovel. Not even close. To me, you are... you are more important than anything. I mean, you... you saved me.' He shook his head and laughed faintly. 'And I don't just mean with the whole undead thing, either. I mean... when I had no one, I had you.'
Garovel made no response.
'And you're still there for me. You haven't stopped being there for me this whole time. So to say that I'm as important to you as you are to me... well, that's just not true. Because it can't be. The impact I've had on your life doesn't even compare to the impact you've had on mine. Understand? Garovel, if something ever happened to you, like if you were to get captured by Abolish or something, then I... I don't know what I would do.'
Sunday, April 2, 2023
Page 3269
The conversation didn't get much better from there. Multiple times, Hector had to struggle for the right words, reiterate points, and even start over to try and explain things chronologically.
He told them about the fight, about the lower realm of pure iron, about the creation of the new armor, and about his encounter with the Magician. Then about the fight again thereafter. That part seemed to create the most confusion, somehow. Probably because he sucked so bad at explaining.
But eventually, everyone seemed to understand. For the most part. Either that, or they simply grew too tired of trying to figure out what he was saying. They all had other things to be doing, after all.
They all went their separate ways, save Hector and Garovel, who headed over to his room in the Tower of Night so that he could get some sleep.
As they made their way across the high bridge that connected the Tower of Day to the Tower of Night, Hector couldn't help feeling like the reaper was being suspiciously quiet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say anything yet, though.
The view, at least, was quite incredible from the tall, paneless windows along the bridge. All the little lanterns that now outlined each of the eight great towers and central courtyard below created a kind of starlit look to the giant cavern, as if the whole night sky had somehow been captured and brought down here.
Perhaps Garovel was too enraptured by the sight to say anything, at the moment.
Hector highly doubted it, though.
As they neared his room, however, the reaper finally spoke up, albeit privately.
'We need to have a serious conversation, Hector.'
He'd been getting that impression, as well. 'About you being left out of fights?'
'Yes. This can't continue.'
Hector exhaled a heavy breath and started up the final staircase to his room. 'Garovel...'
'Hear me out. I get it. You just want to protect me. And I appreciate that. I know it comes from a place of good intent. But I also can't just sit on the sidelines and let you go out there, alone. And yes, things have worked out well enough for you so far, but I'm sure that you yourself will admit that a lot of that has come down to either luck or things beyond your own control.'
Hector reached the top of the stairs and stopped. He could tell how important this was to Garovel, so he didn't want to just brush the reaper off.
But at the same time, he didn't know if Garovel knew how important this was to him. How important he was to him.
He told them about the fight, about the lower realm of pure iron, about the creation of the new armor, and about his encounter with the Magician. Then about the fight again thereafter. That part seemed to create the most confusion, somehow. Probably because he sucked so bad at explaining.
But eventually, everyone seemed to understand. For the most part. Either that, or they simply grew too tired of trying to figure out what he was saying. They all had other things to be doing, after all.
They all went their separate ways, save Hector and Garovel, who headed over to his room in the Tower of Night so that he could get some sleep.
As they made their way across the high bridge that connected the Tower of Day to the Tower of Night, Hector couldn't help feeling like the reaper was being suspiciously quiet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say anything yet, though.
The view, at least, was quite incredible from the tall, paneless windows along the bridge. All the little lanterns that now outlined each of the eight great towers and central courtyard below created a kind of starlit look to the giant cavern, as if the whole night sky had somehow been captured and brought down here.
Perhaps Garovel was too enraptured by the sight to say anything, at the moment.
Hector highly doubted it, though.
As they neared his room, however, the reaper finally spoke up, albeit privately.
'We need to have a serious conversation, Hector.'
He'd been getting that impression, as well. 'About you being left out of fights?'
'Yes. This can't continue.'
Hector exhaled a heavy breath and started up the final staircase to his room. 'Garovel...'
'Hear me out. I get it. You just want to protect me. And I appreciate that. I know it comes from a place of good intent. But I also can't just sit on the sidelines and let you go out there, alone. And yes, things have worked out well enough for you so far, but I'm sure that you yourself will admit that a lot of that has come down to either luck or things beyond your own control.'
Hector reached the top of the stairs and stopped. He could tell how important this was to Garovel, so he didn't want to just brush the reaper off.
But at the same time, he didn't know if Garovel knew how important this was to him. How important he was to him.
Saturday, April 1, 2023
Page 3268
It felt more than a little strange to have a man who was probably three times his age or more being so polite to him, but Hector tried not to let it bother him. There were more pressing matters in the moment.
With Grigozo out of the way, he could talk more freely to Abbas. "I'd also like you to take a look at this for me," he said, handing his helmet over to the Sunsmith.
Abbas took it, though not without hesitation. "Why? You do not already know what it is?"
"I... have an idea, but I'm not sure."
"Is it not simply an alternate isotope of your normal iron?"
At that, Hector had to pause. He supposed that was technically possible, too. Isotopes hadn't even crossed his mind. That was something he'd been planning to put more effort into practicing, but there were always so many other things competing for his attention. Plus, he wasn't sure how useful it would even be, at this point. "...Actually, I think it might be composed of the same material as the Amir-9."
"Excuse me?!" said Abbas.
'What the fuck?' added Garovel privately.
'I've got a lot to tell you later,' thought Hector.
'Sounds like it.'
Abbas pulled him aside, though still not out of earshot of the others. "How in the world could that possibly be?!"
Hector could sense the other Saqqafs leaning over the table, straining to hear. "It's... uh... kind of hard to explain."
"Hector. I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you..."
"What do you mean?"
Rather than answering, the armored man merely sighed.
"Oh, and there's a possibility that someone from the Vanguard might show up here in Atreya, soon."
"What?!"
"They'll be looking for me, not you. But if you're concerned about them discovering your whereabouts, you should probably be extra cautious around here--at least until I tell you otherwise. I have to get in contact with the Magician of Light, first."
"The Magician of--?!"
'Hector, what the fuck are you talking about?!'
Okay, maybe he was info-dumping a little too hard on them here. He scratched his head, trying to rethink his approach. "Look, everything's fine. I just... might've... slipped through a dimensional portal or something during my fight with Banda. And then some... weird shit happened, and, uh..."
"Oh!" said Roman, who was suddenly standing there next to him. "When you got eaten! So that's how you were able to claw your way back out, then? Because of some weird shit?"
"Uh..."
With Grigozo out of the way, he could talk more freely to Abbas. "I'd also like you to take a look at this for me," he said, handing his helmet over to the Sunsmith.
Abbas took it, though not without hesitation. "Why? You do not already know what it is?"
"I... have an idea, but I'm not sure."
"Is it not simply an alternate isotope of your normal iron?"
At that, Hector had to pause. He supposed that was technically possible, too. Isotopes hadn't even crossed his mind. That was something he'd been planning to put more effort into practicing, but there were always so many other things competing for his attention. Plus, he wasn't sure how useful it would even be, at this point. "...Actually, I think it might be composed of the same material as the Amir-9."
"Excuse me?!" said Abbas.
'What the fuck?' added Garovel privately.
'I've got a lot to tell you later,' thought Hector.
'Sounds like it.'
Abbas pulled him aside, though still not out of earshot of the others. "How in the world could that possibly be?!"
Hector could sense the other Saqqafs leaning over the table, straining to hear. "It's... uh... kind of hard to explain."
"Hector. I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you..."
"What do you mean?"
Rather than answering, the armored man merely sighed.
"Oh, and there's a possibility that someone from the Vanguard might show up here in Atreya, soon."
"What?!"
"They'll be looking for me, not you. But if you're concerned about them discovering your whereabouts, you should probably be extra cautious around here--at least until I tell you otherwise. I have to get in contact with the Magician of Light, first."
"The Magician of--?!"
'Hector, what the fuck are you talking about?!'
Okay, maybe he was info-dumping a little too hard on them here. He scratched his head, trying to rethink his approach. "Look, everything's fine. I just... might've... slipped through a dimensional portal or something during my fight with Banda. And then some... weird shit happened, and, uh..."
"Oh!" said Roman, who was suddenly standing there next to him. "When you got eaten! So that's how you were able to claw your way back out, then? Because of some weird shit?"
"Uh..."