Image by Gemini
The palace was in an uproar when Catwright and the others returned in the evening. Apparently, the King of Mecre had arrived unexpectedly via teleportation platform with several other dignitaries. It had been a long day, and Cat had been looking forward to a good meal and a relaxing bath, but upon seeing the lines to get into the palace due to increased security, his appetite faded.
“I don’t have time for this,” Cat grumbled. “I’m going to see what accommodations Gemma has for us out in town. Bel, can you reach out to her?” Beldere nodded.
“Well Chatwick and I will not be missing out on the banquet, there is sure to be in the King’s honor, and a chance to see Ellitra and Glornia in the flesh!” Seleger said. Cat knew that Ellitra Everhaven was one of the elder druid council members, and for some reason, the subject of young male fantasies. Cat also knew Glornia was the princess, an unearthly half-Elydrean beauty, and there was some unwholesome gossip about her not being wed at her age. Cat had no interest. He did not see any benefit to catching a glimpse of these people from afar; they had nothing to do with him or his friends. He needed a private place to think and train. The knight competition would start after the award ceremony the next morning, and he had to be at his best.
Beldere guided them to a warehouse district near the southern wharves. It was actually not too far from the palace or the fairgrounds where the competitions were held. They entered a plain-faced, square building large enough to contain a tilting field, with room to spare. Several workers and mercenaries were still setting up the place. Gemma greeted them with her customary sly grin.
“Welcome,” she said, gesturing around. “I had not expected you so quickly, but everything important is already set up.” Cat saw all the basic furnishings near the edges of the open floor plan. Several magical disk lights illuminated the entire space from above. There were tables and chairs, several large, comfortable-looking beds placed side by side barracks-style, couches, practice dummies, and racks of different weapons. Cat took it in silently. Beldere asked the practical questions about food, water, and security. Gemma pointed out a door in the back which apparently led to a fully functional bathhouse, complete with clean running water and toilets. She handed Beldere something that looked like a thick piece of parchment. “This is a linked scriber, anything you need, write it down and our agent will acquire and deliver the items, normal food is covered along with other essentials. They will write back the cost if you need something else.”
“How long do we have this place?” Cat asked.
“Two weeks, with what you’ve paid so far. The rent isn’t that much, it’s the extras that cost.” So saying, Gemma handed over a small stack of parchment. “That Trellix fellow is some kind of Ssythe half breed and he has his fingers in everything. If someone has a conversation alone with him they tend to leave seeing his way. He’s been stirring up more trouble lately and seems to have some pressure from above to influence mercenary groups and work with the slavers. We’ve identified several businesses throughout the city that are serving as fronts cleaning the money from the sale of the slaves, gambling and prostitution.”
“Wait, they are actually able to buy slaves?” Cat was genuinely surprised. “And why do they have to launder money from gambling and prostitution?”
Gemma sighed; she looked like she was not looking forward to what came next. “We believe that there are a group of powerful psions working with or for Trellix and the slavers, who are convincing people to sign up for ‘indentureship’. If they sign up willingly, there is no law being broken.” Cat’s jaw hung open, and Gemma continued, “The gambling winnings we believe are being acquired by similar nefarious means, it’s hard to win at cards if your opponent can read your mind, and even change your perceptions. We assume they are doing something even more fecked with the prostitutes. Because of the Mecran coercion clause, most of their earnings would not stand up under the basic magical scrutiny of tax filings, thus the laundering fronts. If the money moves around enough, the standard spells fail.”
“How can this happen?” Cat’s temper was rising. “Why don’t we tell the Duke, or the church?”
Gemma barked a quick laugh and then blushed slightly with a glance at Beldere. “Military action requires proof, and something called probable cause to seek that proof, and the church is notoriously light handed unless someone kills some trees or something.” She glanced again at Beldere, who did not look amused.
“Proof?” Cat asked. “What am I holding?” He shook the papers.
“A stack of hearsay gathered by rogues.” She paused for a moment and sighed. “There’s more.” When Cat just looked at her, she continued. “There is another player in town, a group of rogues who are far better than us, and by us I mean the Red Hands. We’ve spotted them on occasion but only barely and they disappear without a trace. They seem to haunt the same areas we are investigating but they have not made contact or threatened us. And before you ask, we don’t know who they are and how many they are, but the Mistress of Blades is spooked and has demanded that we triple the price for working with you.” Cat was expecting this at some point and just shrugged; he knew how mercenaries worked. Two large sacks of coins materialized and clanked to the ground at Gemma’s feet.
“Are you giving the same information to Kagin?” Cat asked.
“No, he’s only concerned with direct military level threats, the city forces are a blunt instrument not an investigative entity.” Mecren society did not have many investigators, because they had priests.
Cat thought for a moment. “I’m guessing all the known locations for these businesses are included with this?” He hefted the stack of parchment. At Gemma’s nod, he continued. “What happens if I confront these places directly?”
“Without proof?” Gemma said. “You’d probably end up arrested yourself, or worse.”
“What is considered proof?”
“You would need physical documents, which you can’t get unless you break in and steal them, and they are probably not stupid enough to leave that lying around.” Gemma shrugged. “Or you would need magical confirmation from an authority that bad shite is happening.”
“Then what?”
“Well, open season, that authority could authorize arrests, the seizure of assets, or anything else really to help with the investigation. It doesn’t happen often in Mecran cities, so the rules are pretty loose compared with other places, mostly because druids and priests can detect falsehoods.” She was grinning and staring at Beldere. Catwright was also staring at the priest.
“And what constitutes an authority?” He smiled grimly.
“Anyone appointed by the local governing body or a person with documented standing within the church of Neador or demonstrated blessings of that same deity.” Beldere stared back at the other two.
“Yes.” The priest did not need them to ask. “If this is truly happening it is within my purview to seek out the truth and facilitate justice.”
“Then let’s get to work,” Cat said.
A dark figure strode from the docks that evening, newly arrived to Osenvale and seeking accommodations of his own. He was a mercenary of a sort, but he insisted on working alone. Sorcery surrounded him such that a casual observer would not see or remember his passing. He chanted continuously as he walked, sending shadows into the night. He needed information on his quarry. The sooner he could leave this city, infested by life and faith, the better. He needed to be careful of every casting, wrapping the mana in shadows of its own. Death and disease were his specialties, and his presence would not be tolerated if discovered. Not that he feared this rabble, but destroying an entire city invited the scrutiny of higher powers.
He walked a cobbled street illuminated by magic lamps as his shadows started returning. There were more people here eating, drinking, and cavorting in the salty evening air. A few glanced his way, perhaps seeing a shadow move from the corner of their eye, but they would forget in seconds. He absorbed the information from his minions rapidly and cursed to himself. There was a high druid in the city, and the Everborn himself! This changed his plans greatly. He entered a crowded establishment. Invisible and intangible, he drifted through the revelers, leaving nothing but a slight chill at his passing. On the second floor, he passed through the first door he approached, entering a modest bedroom with all the standard furnishings: a closet, a window, and a small attached bathroom. Old memories recalled that this place was an inn and that one usually paid the owner in coins for the right to occupy a room. He was no longer a person who acknowledged normal rules.
The bed was occupied by a sleeping, middle-aged couple who had perhaps enjoyed a bit too much to drink earlier in the day. With graceful movements of his long-fingered hands, the archmage began casting, warding the room in a dozen ways and dooming the other occupants. Within moments, their breathing stopped, and they rapidly started to decompose. He scoured the room for anything else he did not need as his shadowy minions sanitized all the surfaces, including the thick dust which was soon all that remained of the unfortunate pair. The extraneous matter passed out one small window and down the pipes of the modest toilet and sink, leaving no traces. Anyone approaching the door to the room would feel a strong urge to be somewhere else. If someone could actually get to the handle, they would find it securely locked. If someone were powerful enough to breach the door and wards, the entire inn would disintegrate as he teleported away.
Having secured the small bastion to his satisfaction, he began to work. It was too dangerous now to approach the target directly, but there were allies and assets within the city who could help. It would be a simple matter of coordination and timing. He was good at this; it was why he demanded such a high price. The slavers really wanted the boy for some reason. He would have done this deed for free, however, because his dark and glorious master, who had not directly breached the veils in centuries, had returned and commanded it.
King Mecre Everborn smiled. A broad-shouldered man with dark hair and slightly above-average height, he did not stand out among a crowd of his people, except for his bearing. He stood and walked like a legend. Even with his semi-divine presence reined in, people still felt it when he entered a room. He loved to drop in on his vassals unannounced and watch them scramble. It was not out of any sense of cruelty; it was just amusing to see how much these relative strangers wanted to please him. This Duke was more experienced than most, not overly intimidated by the King or his entourage. The castellan was also quite competent. Within moments, a reception had been prepared, and his highness had been bogged down by local pleasantries and politics. It was cleverly done, and Mecre marveled at the way they distracted him with ceremony to give time for servants to prepare everything ahead of them. If he had been in a hurry, he would have objected, but he had more time than most, so he decided to enjoy the treatment and the company.
When the Obsidian Tears had been eradicated by the Mecran military, the king had, of course, been notified. Hearing that the young Isubane was involved only made it more interesting.
A figure stirred beside him. She wore what he considered her normal form today: a young, petite, pale-skinned human female of perhaps 19 years. Her brown, spiked hair gave her a pixie look, her bright green eyes penetrated and distracted, and her impish grin made a smart man want to run. Mecre respected Ellitra Everhaven because of her age and perspective. At over four hundred years of age, she had an excellent grasp of current politics and all the history that led to it. She was still young by his standards, though. His memories stretched back hundreds of thousands of years into different worlds and realities she could scarcely fathom. Her sense of style seemed immature, however. The fine fabric sewn to resemble green vines winding about her frame left little to the imagination. She certainly distracted the immaculate man to her left. Lord Theron Dunanacer, the Elemental disciple of Lightning, was visibly sweating. It was just a bead on his forehead, but Mecre noticed. Theron was a reborn incarnation not unlike himself, but this was only the third known return of the lightning lord, making him effectively the youngest of the three by far. Unfortunately for him, Ellitra was a teasing sort, and her powers activated the baser desires of men in ways even Theron had difficulty resisting. A flirtatious glance or touch from the diminutive druid set the large, chiseled man to gritting his teeth.
Duke Jamelyn and Lord Kagin held their own in front of the living legends arrayed before them. Ellitra did not focus her lustful energies upon them because it provided little sport. “Oh, I believe I have found a younger sister,” she said, her voice like the music of the fey. Then she was gone, traversing 30 feet with a single step to appear in front of a stunned Natalia Sulwood. Just like that, she had avoided the worst of the ceremony, Mecre thought with admiration.
He followed the procession absently, nodding his head at the appropriate moments and making the expected kingly, wise comments, all while reaching out throughout the castle and surrounding area with his aura. His daughter had concealed herself and immediately slipped out, but he could see her lithe form bounding up the stairs, likely to inspect the city from the castle heights. The soldiers here were relatively weak when compared with the warriors during the time of his last incarnation. It was not surprising; the kingdom had not had a major war in six hundred years. Few of the people in the area had even basic mana manipulation or aura control. In fact, Ellitra was probably the only one in the castle who could actually detect and understand what he was doing.
‘The boy’s not here luv, got spooked by the crowds. You’ll surely see him tomorrow at the award ceremony you have so generously agreed to oversee.’
It was disturbing how easily she could read his surface thoughts and speak into his mind. She could not manipulate him like lesser men, but she was far more dangerous than Neadan was when they had first met so long ago. He grimaced inwardly, realizing that she was right; his amiable nodding had volunteered him to be master of ceremonies for the awards and duels on the morrow and the harvest festival in two days. He hadn’t even intended to stay that long. He would see how it played out. He was king, after all; he could leave whenever he wanted.
Cat, Beldere, Gemma, and two other red blades—a man and woman in nondescript clothes—approached the first building. It was ironically a large laundry service for clothing and linens, the kind with extensive piping to bring water to and from the bay, and extensive magical cleansing and mending enchantments embedded in the plumbing and the large spinning vats which operated throughout the night. Cat could feel the rumbling in his feet as they approached.
“There’s a lot going on here,” Cat said thoughtfully. The more he practiced, the more he could feel ambient mana around him and the subtle differences between them. Back at Ironwatch garrison, he really only experienced veridia. He could feel lithos, kinetae, and structuris, along with something dark and unfamiliar that made him think of unbrarum, those were just the outside wards. There were at least a half dozen other enchantments for purifying the water, and spinning the large metal cylinders inside.
“There is indeed,” Beldere confirmed a moment later. “There are at least four different wards on this building, unusual for a simple cleaning establishment.”
“Anyone in there?” Cat asked. Gemma and the redblades looked around nervously. Cat understood why; he could feel the eyes upon them.
“Yes quite a few,” Beldere replied, “a dozen people appear to be working on the main floors, there is an underground area, a basement with perhaps thirty more people,” his expression became grim, “they all appear to be in distress,” his look became startled as his head whipped to the left, “and two on the roof across the street watching us”.
Cat was somewhat startled as well; he had no idea anyone was there. Usually, he had an uncanny awareness of threats around himself.
“They are running,” Beldere said.
“Let them go,” Cat said, focusing on the task before them. “Can you break through the wards?”
“All but one of them, but I believe it is merely a means of alerting whoever created it, I sense no destructive or restrictive intent.” Beldere concentrated for a long moment and whispered prayers to the Watcher under his breath. “There were two magical and one faith based wards, which are now destroyed, the fourth which I believe is psionic in nature, I cannot seem to affect.”
Cat nodded and reached out to the chained and bolted door. He focused on the lithos in his body and the surrounding area while assuming a stance based on the lithos combat form. His grip tightened, and he calmly tore the door off the building. “You should probably let Spikey and the city authorities know what’s going on,” Cat told Beldere. “I think it’s going to be a long night.”
He was not wrong. Inside, they found people with slave brands doing the evening work, and more locked in cells in the basement who apparently continued the operation during the day. Soldiers were on the scene before they finished with the first location. The slave brands were removed with a few prayers from Beldere, and the cells were opened with brute force. Cat supposed Beldere could have easily opened the locks as well, but there was something satisfying about breaking locks with his bare hands. The enhancement treatments he had as a child were excruciating, but they paid dividends now. He was also learning more about how to apply lithos in his body with more subtlety.
By splitting the soldiers up, they were able to cover all of the known slaver locations in a couple of hours. The only issue came when they entered a casino. Some of the guards tried to put up some resistance but were subdued in short order. Ladies of the night who flirted with the patrons were found to have slave brands, cleverly concealed by obfuscation magic. The freed slaves were more than happy to provide more information for the military to follow up on. The sun was coming up by the time Cat decided he needed to head back to the Castle district to prepare for the ceremony. He could go a few nights without sleep, but it dulled his fighting edge. He asked for a quick refresh from Beldere to keep him alert for the day, and then bade the priest get a few hours of sleep before the matches in the afternoon.
Beldere shrugged tiredly but had a smile that spoke of pride and satisfaction at a good night’s work. “I can refresh myself as well as you, I will be there for the ceremony.”
Baretessa, leader of the Morsycar Tacytas, and her second in command, Jaline, watched from the rooftops as the local military systematically dismantled years of their client’s network in a matter of hours.
“We should have taken them when they were outside the cleaners,” Jaline opined, her high-pitched voice irritating to Baretessa’s sensitive ears. “We could have had the target and saved the businesses.”
“Not our job to save businesses,” Baretessa growled. Tusks protruding from her lower jaw, a gift from her Grulken heritage, made most of her words sound bestial. “We could not have taken them. We need more of an advantage.”
Jaline just stared back at the larger woman. “Tessa I’ve seen you take six men by yourself without being touched.”
Tessa did not like the waif of a woman or her overconfidence, but Jaline was a skilled assassin and had earned respect. “I have watched him practice, and during the competitions. Both of us together would have trouble with him alone. With the priest he is nearly unstoppable.”
Jaline nodded in reluctant acceptance. “So what’s the plan?”
“We create an opportunity. I sense a path opening in two days.” Tessa’s green eyes blazed with intensity. “Our client says he is resistant to many of our abilities, but I do not think his friends have those same strengths. We also have a new ally in town. Someone who may be able to counter the druids and the priest if needed.”
