Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three - 123
The door opened up into a hallway of plank floors and sagging walls. Cracks spidered from dents and holes in the plaster, while the hardwood flooring was grey and marred by the tread of countless feet. It was utterly dark inside with not a single window to alleviate the gloom, and Felix smelled something musty and abandoned, like a cellar gone to rot.
Pit let out a worried whine in his mind.
"So, we're here," Evie said, and her eyes glowed far brighter than before. "Seems homey."
"There's gotta be more than just...this," Felix gestured. "C'mon."
The two of them walked forward and discovered two things. One, the hallway was relatively short, and two, the back wall was fake. The latter was easily spotted by Felix's Manasight only because the wall flared and quickly dissipated as they approached; beyond was a dark decline. A set of stairs.
"This is very odd," Evie muttered. "Who exactly is this Caerwin lady?"
"I'm coming to realize that I have no idea," Felix admitted. He felt a warm and slightly fetid stench rise up from the stairwell. Whatever illusion had been hiding the passage was an impressive working, and Felix believed that if it had not dissipated on its own he would never have noticed it. "But we've come this far, right?"
"Sure. Secret magic building, disappearing walls, dark and creepy staircase leading into what smells like a sewer," Evie sniffed and frowned into the dark. "What could go wrong?"
"Now you sound like me," Felix smiled and took the first step into the stairwell. Immediately two orbs of magelight lit to either side of him, as if affixed to the walls. "Whoa."
Felix took another step, and the same thing happened again while the magelights behind him dimmed slightly. When he took a step backward, the first lights brightened. "Oh this is cool. The lights are keyed to the steps."
How's it work though?
Felix flared his Manasight and once he'd negotiated the usual density of the ambient Mana, he could see a series of bright strips laid across each and every step, like strip lighting almost, except they appeared to be embedded under the stone stairs. Another series of bright spots dotted the walls leading to the hovering magelights, three in all, and after concentrating a moment longer they came into focus. They were sigils, each somehow linked to those underfoot.
So they function by, what, sympathetic pressure? How--
"Not to interrupt your...whatever this is, but don't you have somewhere to be?" Felix blinked, bringing his Manasight down to a simmer as he glanced guiltily at Evie. The young woman was still standing on the top, arms folded and smirking.
"Ah, yeah. I can always check later, I guess." He cleared his throat. "C'mon."
The two of them padded down the stairs, taking them quickly. The lights followed them, of course, a steady stream of brightness that flowed with them while leaving everything behind and before them in darkness. Evie had to deactivate Night Eye shortly after starting, the bright light becoming quickly too much for the Skill to compensate for, and Felix lost some of his appreciation for the enchantment when he realized it effectively night-blinded them.
But is that a bug...or a feature?
Less than two minutes later, their whirlwind passage ended at a far lower level than Felix had encountered in Haarwatch. At the base of the stairwell was an archway made from three curves, what he remembered as a pointed trefoil arch. Once through it, they stepped out onto an open platform surrounded by latticed masonry. Small bricks had been used to create multiple stacked trefoil arches, all of them leading out into a wider area below. The rush of water was loud in their ears, but it was absolutely dark beyond those arches thanks to their destroyed night vision, not to mention the magelights that bobbed out of the ground at their approach.
That fetid smell had only grown stronger, and wetter.
"Halt, friends," a calm and vaguely amused voice said. Felix and Evie peered into the darkness, but soon another set of magelights bloomed, these around two men in dark blue robes. The robes were draped across their shoulders and down to their knees, below which they wore iron greaves and dark leather sandals. The one that was speaking had a wide smile and a well-kept beard of dark brown. His eyes twinkled in the sudden light. "What brings you here?"
The man's manner and voice suggested a casual, friendly attitude, but Felix didn't fail to notice his companion. That man was quiet and watched them like a hawk.
"Come to see the sights, you know. Sewers are our thing," Evie said, looking around. "Quite a nice one here. Gettin' me in a mood, eh?"
Evie nudged Felix with an elbow. When he looked her way, she flicked her eyes slightly to the left and then right. Felix blinked, long and slow and shook his head. He turned to the guards (obviously they were guards), and smiled back.
"I was told to ask for Caerwin. She sent me."
The robed man's smile faded as if it had never been there at all, and the both of them swept to the side. As one, they raised their arms and gestured across the platform. At the far end, perhaps thirty feet away, a trio of magelights illuminated a door.
"A friend of Caerwin is a friend to all within, travelers. Be welcome."
It was unnerving, to say the least, though he easily fought off whatever it was trying to do. Felix wasn't sure what the cloud of pressure was, but it felt like some sort of aura effect. Was it a Skill? Maybe like Vvim's emotional manipulation Skill, from back in the Tower? That's shady as hell.
Felix looked up at the platform, where the brown-robed chorister still had his eyes closed and hands raised, basking in the cheers of the crowd. The man was gaunt and completely hairless, his robes hanging from his frame like a sack. Behind him were four more choristers, their vestments a dull yellow, dark grey, and two in matching blue. But what caught his eye was the wall beyond.
The mural was as high as the ceiling, which was nearly fifty feet. Felix could make out seven immense beings depicted, surrounded by the relatively bright heavens above and the darkened earth below. Each of them were composed of various colors and textures, but the mural was so faded and grime-coated that Felix had difficulty distinguishing them. As if they were cloaked in the detritus of time itself.
"The Guild and the Inquisition. Two sides of the same befouled coin," the chorister spat, and his thin lips trembled with either rage or sadness. Felix felt the cloud in the air shift, pressing against his Bastion but finding no purchase. The people around him grew solemn, and he saw no shortage of angry, clenched fists. "Neither helps us during these dire times, for neither wishes for us to survive. Those who cannot fight or pledge themselves to the blind god are seen as fodder for their cities and drudges for the most menial jobs. They say we are worthless."
The cloud shifted again, and Felix slowed as he saw people's eyes dilate and those fists raise into the air. The chorister shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
"Are you worthless?" he asked.
"No!" the audience shouted.
"Are you worthless!?"
"NO!"
"And we shall show them that!" The choristers last words were nearly drowned out by a cacophonous outcry. The anger was nearly palpable, as cloying as the body heat of all these people driven to desperation. Felix couldn't help but feel a measure of sympathy for them all; living without strength in this world was unfathomable. To live your life without any sort of control over your own fate? To live in fear of monsters, Human or otherwise? Unacceptable.
And they seemed to be right: the only way out for the vast majority of them was to join the Guild, or maybe the Inquisition. Join up, serve the cause, fight and get stronger but not too strong. Felix began to see the Iron Essence Draughts in a new light; limiters on the strength of the Guild's rank and file, ensuring they only Temper sub-standard bodies.
Can't rise up if your foundation is unsteady. Shit.
Were it not for the sickening manipulation at work, Felix might have found sympathy for the choristers as well...yet the brown robed man's power hovered about them still, pushing and prodding at their emotions as his speech went on. Felix had to push himself away from it all, escaping the larger mass of crowd and into the thinner outskirts of the chamber. Here there were fewer people, though all of them were still focused almost entirely on the stage. The chorister had stepped away now, returning to the others. Slowly, Felix could feel that pressure fade away, pulling away from him entirely.
Talk about mob mentality. Felix glanced around him and saw a number of people he recognized from the Dust Quarter, most of whom were still gripped in a righteous fury. Folks he'd seen in passing mostly, though each face twinged his perfect recall. If he tried, he could remember exactly where he met them.
Surprisingly, he saw the weaponsmith Rafny. She had her arms crossed and a powerful frown on her face, clearly not impressed by what just happened. More significantly, the other Haarwatchers around her also looked equally clear-eyed. Among them were a few surprisingly familiar faces, including the Hobgoblin grandmother and her Dwarven friend he'd saved the night the Wretches attacked.
Thank god someone else isn't falling for this. Felix looked over the crowd again. Most of these people are level ten or lower, and I doubt any of them have mental defenses. Pushing on their emotions was probably easy. Why though? They have a legitimate gripe: the Guild clearly doesn't give a shit about Dusters.
He scanned the crowd again, looking for Caerwin. Where is she? I thought-- Evie was standing further to his right. She too was facing the stage and had her fists waving in the air. Oh no.
"Evie, you okay?" Felix approached cautiously, and at first she didn't even look at him. "Evie?"
The woman's eyes were dilated and she was sweating heavily. Felix tugged on her arms, tried to make her look at him, everything short of hurting her but there was no response. On instinct, Felix listened for that strange internal music he'd heard before and perceived a frantic, furious crashing. It was frenetic bordering on discordant and it drive a spike of worry into his chest.
"Evie, snap out of it!"
Without warning, an ochre hand reached from behind and laid itself on Evie's brow. Felix had no time to react as a humming pulse released at the point of contact. He felt it as if being rebuffed by a small breeze, a harmless shower of sparks that gusted against his face and neck. Wordlessly, Felix watched as pieces of that coercive cloud structure drifted away from her, chased like grease from soap. Despite his Manasight, he hadn't even noticed there were any lingering traces.
Like a puppet with her strings cut, Evie collapsed. Felix caught her even as those same ochre hands helped steady the fighter back on her feet. Distantly, Felix could hear her internal harmonics settle into a calmer series of chords before they faded from his Perception entirely.
"Yyer-yyero's ass, what happened?" Evie wobbled but kept on her own two feet. "I feel like Rory's Gauntlet just ran me over."
Felix felt a smile tug at his lips as he turned to the person who had helped them. "Thank you for...whatever you did, it was--"
He blinked in shock, then followed that up with a helping of trepidation. Standing before them was Zara Cyrene, owner of the Elder Crown bookstore. She was wearing robes that draped across her shoulders and down to her knees, displaying a set of iron greaves and leather sandals. Unlike those on stage, her robes were dyed completely black.
"Hello again, Felix."
