Strands of mist stacked onto the ether-rich air inside the reserved room.
The blue and silver couch Luke and Emalia sat upon sank from their weight. Sooty settled down on Luke's right shoulder, and Whispering To floated above his left. The light in the room slowly died down, barely a bother to Luke's senses. Emalia was a bona fide tier 2 herself, although a noncombatant class, her visual acuity couldn't be discounted.
Ceasing the dance around the subject, Emalia said, "Your father isn't the first of his kind, my family is far from a clean group, but we ultimately want what is good for this Duchy, because that is also for our own survival in the end. Sothing those isolated in wealth forget until it's too late." Her spirit shone in her face. "We've done a share of unsavory acts. Shipping away Elaria's talents out of the country is not one of them."
"Shipping away? You an to say that you think my dad isn't in this Duchy anymore?"
"Precisely. A re unmarried maiden like with only a middling position in the family couldn't know where he went next. In the interest of keeping a good relationship with you, I'll say that it's possible he's within Duchy borders, unlikely as that is." She splayed a hand over her chest. "In no way, shape or form is he still within Sylen. The people with any possibility of firsthand knowledge would have to be the tier 3 leadership mbers of the underworld powers, or the heads of either Titled noble family."
The noblewoman crossed her legs. "Your father is alive, but you already knew that. The Sacrant cult has infiltrated deep into every power that be in this city, except for your Defiers." She pointed at the back of Luke's hand. "That symbol you hide within there prevents them. Any who try et a swift end by the High Defier."
Picking up on details, Luke said, "That includes your family? This Sacrant cult is part of the two Titled noble clans as well?"
Emalia blinked slowly. She kept a sad smile. "They are, as for how high up they go, or who exactly has converted, I don't know. They developed a thod to hide the mark on their tongues. Each has taken a drop of the Ichor of one of the god creatures at so point. My grandmother is at her wits' end trying to develop a thod to root them out with certainty, with only mixed results so far."
"How do you know your grandmother also isn't one?"
"Then we would all be Sacrant mbers, myself included."
The Reaver took that at face value. When he viciously battled Garic and Vathen, they both took Ichor, and he could sense an intense revulsion at their presence. He didn't know if that was because they just took Ichor, revealed it, or so other factor. But that sa revulsion never picked up around Emalia or her uncle. Thinking back on it, when those tier 2s ambushed him on Sylen's streets, a similar sense overtook him. Like his deepest blood rejected anything divine.
Quite fitting for an inheritor of one of the seven sins, if he could say so himself. He wondered if it worked if near enough to soone within the Sacrant, or if they ever drank a drop of Ichor. It obviously didn't work over a great distance, otherwise he'd have long been on a cult slaughtering spree. He did do sothing similar against lesser underworld groups for different reasons.
Piecing together Emalia's reveal, Luke sumd it as best he could. "There's a chance so mbers of your family are still involved?" He said, unable to fully conceal the sharp tone.
"There could be, but I swear it on the World Spirit, whoever the defectors are, they aren't the ones primarily responsible."
Luke sighed. "That's probably the best I can ask for in this situation. If your family is afflicted, how bad off are the Pyrites?"
"They keep any such leaks down airtight. Any of our spies planted in their manor have been killed ruthlessly over the last months. I'm afraid both sides are in the dark about the other, with how deep the corruption runs."
Certain that Emalia had little else to reveal, the Reaver got up, he put a hand on her shoulder before leaving. "Those involved, whether they be Miel, Pyrite, under Sylen, or with a god creature." He paused, breathing in deeply. "I will kill them all. Thanks Emalia, since I'm in debt to your family, we may be seeing more of each other."
He tapped onto the orb responsible for teleporting people off this floor and reappeared at the entrance on the ground floor. Except for attendants clearing out the closed auction, one other soul remained behind, apparently waiting for him, as Luke read from her body language.
With each step toward Luke, sound waves rippled in the air, controlled like a limb—visible to the naked eye. Ophelia genuflected a hand out to Luke, her black hair floating at the edges. "I overheard that woman choosing to reveal the existence of the Sacrant to you. In due ti, you would've encountered them with regularity. Any who begin to reach the top of Sylen will clash against their aims."
"You could've told at our last eting. Didn't you suspect their involvent by then?" Luke said, noting the sound aura barrier the City Lord skillfully set up with a glance.
"It would change nothing, novice Defier. n and won loyal for years, suddenly traitors the next. My personal checking with the deepest sound waves catches them every once in a twin moon. That thod is far from perfect. The High Defier himself is troubled by their latest thods. None have managed to fool the Defier Mark. Your group is the last pure of their insidious ans."
Rubbing a dress shoe into the flooring, Luke tensed his jaw for a mont. All these puppet masters, dripping information either only when it suited them or he forced it out. He subconsciously rubbed Wayfinder.
"Unrepentant as ever, City Lord," Luke said. "So you admit even your faction is contaminated. Could any of them have contributed to—"
"The chances are all but zero," Ophelia's aura grew into a low hum. "While knowing if they are part of the Sacrant would be near impossible for , their taking such an audacious act within city limits is not. Each mber of the Sylen city governnt at tier 1 or higher, no matter the role, harbors a Sound Shard of mine. Any violent action they undertake is reported back at the speed of sound."
Internally synthesizing, Luke thought, Direct involvent is a no from the City Lord's faction then. Indirect help could still be possible, though, if difficult. She's not free of suspicion. Rather, her other mbers aren't, but at least I can be pretty sure they likely aren't the ultimate masterminds.
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Sooty flapped her wings in annoyance. Their bond communicated to Luke that she'd grown tired of this 'gold nest' as she called it. At the end of his own temperance for politics, the man spoke to Ophelia. "Any other reason you've kept up? I'd like to leave."
Ophelia pressed a finger on Luke's forehead at a speed he couldn't react to, even if his senses picked it up. A special sound wave implanted itself in a taphysical form. "There, a Sound Shard is in you. When you fight, I'll know where." She sealed his lips with a finger. "You're not officially part of Sylen's city faction, so the limits are stripped away. This is to keep a tracer on you. Rember the agreent between us." She stepped past him, movents echoing, the ground itself shifted. "I wouldn't dare to think you as one, but this city never tolerates deserters before the Tide. We will negotiate after the god beasts devout monstrosities have been repelled. Good day, newborn elental."
Like that, whisked away by sound, Ophelia Cyrn left Luke's range of senses. He figured the City Lord would plant her own form of insurance. For now, he had little choice in the matter. Annoying as it was, this failed to change any of his planned actions; he just had to rember another string stuck itself in him. The masters may play, but Luke refused to beco a puppet to their moves. Ophelia would know his violet actions. She lacked justification to stop any of them, unless directly against her governance.
Which, for the near future, he saw no reason to do that. Avoiding the clutches of anyone else, Luke left the auction house, stepping into Midas Square. Buildings abound all competed to show off their opulence and wealth, fragrant flowers adorned the edges, and fountains spouted out crystal clear water. At this ti of night, a handful of patrons from the auctions or other stores in the vicinity stuck around.
None were casual in their intention. Overhearing so conversations, Luke sumd it up as last-minute preparations before those who could legally leave Sylen—would. A minority were ruing over their failures in the auction. Far more lost than won in that regard. Crowds parted by Luke, since he unleashed the elental aura naturally part of him, they left him alone. Owing to his ice affinity, the air entered a state of near freezing.
The Reaver let himself wander where his feet naturally took him. In this case, deeper into the Western Quadrant of Sylen. The part of the city that hosted the majority of the wealthy, nobles, and tier 3 hunters when not in the Silver Black Tower or in the Defier's guild. aning the manor of the Miel's or Pyrite's should also be sowhere nearby. That struck an idea as Luke decided to confirm sothing.
He headed to a less-attended garden and sat down on a bench. Luke summoned his own aura veil to prevent any eavesdroppers, reinforced with the natural elental power he possessed, it probably did the trick against usual asures.
"Xera start humming or sothing, just in case." He rubbed a cheek on Sooty. "Fly up above, keep anyone away from the bench. I need so privacy." Sooty flapped her wings and went up into the sky, curious, but listening to the command.
Finally, he looked out into the garden, speaking, yet not making direct eye contact with Wayfinder. "Devil's Needle is available again, isn't it?"
"Sure you want to use that direction this close to the big wabam, frosty? It'll cost another leg of ti before it cos back, ain't as forgiving as my other asures either," Wayfinder softly said with his typical flair, not entirely convinced they were alone.
There would always be the chance Luke's current asures failed to account for everything, but he couldn't run around this entire damn city in fear the whole ti. Devil's Needle could shed light where he wanted it, so the sooner used, the better used. Luke stayed in close contact with Sooty through Reaver's Link. Xera's terrible humming managed to sound like tal screeching on stone, not all that surprising as a living weapon. Its intended purpose to steer away curious onlookers did its job, often cuffing their ears as they buzzed off.
Convinced the coast was as clear as it reasonably would get, Luke leaned a bit, hunching while on the park bench, under the shade of a tree, the dual moons shone down gentle yet insidious light. Whispering To did a semi-circle around the Reaver's back, pages wildly fluttering back and forth.
"Wayfinder."
"Aye?"
"Tell the limits of Devil's Needle, so I know how best to use it."
For a long mont, Wayfinder stayed silent. Luke thought that perhaps so other rule, like those nebulous 'World Laws' he encountered during Whispering To's creation, might be interfering.
Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Wayfinder coughed like an old man, inner springs crunching. His needle pointed at Luke, the compass said, "Askin' for anything beyond your current capabilities is impossible. My guidance always remains in the realm of what your sorry hide misses without shiny exterior."
"aning?" Luke said, wanting details.
"Pointing for a way directly to your da might be beyond greatness, if the rapscallions involved are too great an obstacle. Pleading for a steep, yet achievable direction can be the best use, without pissin' away the needle's ability."
Tapping on the bench, it began to freeze. Luke converted it into solid ice in a couple seconds. Eventually, he sorted out the boundary sowhat. He said, "When I ask for guidance, it has to be sothing I have at least the smallest chance to survive doing?"
"That be one way to put it, I might be an ornery old spirit, but leadin' you to your certain death is sothing I'll refuse on account of flimsy moral directions. Ask for a way to bed that City Lord, and all you'd get is a refusal on the needle."
Breathing in the misting night air, Luke internally organized with the other two instances he'd used Devil's Needle as a guide.
During its first use, I was far too haywire from near death by goblin to gather much on the ability. Yet it brought to the trial door. The second use, it showed bubbling death skulls in nearly every direction. I must've asked for sothing near the edges of possibility in that case. An icy calm settled upon Luke at that thought. By all accounts, he should've died that night. All because of Chander Pyrite's childish ltdown and position within the Pyrite Titled noble clan.
Suddenly being coerced by debt into direct opposition to the Pyrites didn't sting quite as much. That man-child destined they be enemies anyway, so why fret over it? All in all, Wayfinder simply showed what was possible with guidance and desire. If he asked Wayfinder to show him the 'path' to killing Musai or sothing else ridiculous, then all he'd receive is a wasted cooldown.
"Can I sohow get a sense if my ask is too much for the ability?"
"Aye, concentrate deeply, see the tether growing when you formulate your particular question for the Devil's Needle. A potent rejection to your blackened spirit is the key, lad. Push for it, and all that stubbornness will get is a waste of my guidance going kaput."
Trying it out, Luke ntally prepared so questions, honing in on Devil's Needle, not activating it, but querying it instead. He started off with a ridiculous one.
Show how to find my dad in one hour.
An ocean's worth of rejection struck at Luke's soul. Whatever stood between him and the direct path to his dad would result in no chance of survival currently, at least within the allotted ti fra. It also perhaps had sothing to do with the fact Devil's Needle ran out of duration eventually, unlike most of Wayfinder's other abilities, it didn't have an iron set rule to how long it lasted, but it couldn't be sothing beyond a few hours—likely less than that.
He moved on to a similar ntal question, asking for a path within a day, and the whiplash, while still enormous, wasn't quite as severe. It seed a direct way asked for too much at the mont. Ruminating, he went a different direction altogether, in the hopes it would be reasonable enough to complete.
Guide to the person most responsible for my dad's disappearance in this city.
The connection calculated for a while. Weighing Luke's abilities and the burden of the ask. A faint acceptance ca, one weak enough that the Reaver could brute force it, close to how his second use of Devil's Needle concluded. At the confirmation, a desirous pounding started within. Wayfinder ability ca close to omniscience if Luke t the proper paraters. Sothing he'd use to the fullest.
But not without so preparation. Even he had no clue how he'd act when the ti ca, and whoever that person may be in this city stood within sight. Two sides battled within, the emotional side: do it now. The logical side: prepare to make the best use of it, you won't have another chance before the Tide.
A mixed outco won out. He would undergo the second ascension ritual soti tomorrow. He had the rest of the night. The fact that Devil's Needle accepted the query ant that even without reaching tier 2, Luke could complete the request. Still, barging in without so imdiate preparation was stupid, especially when taking into account that Luke rarely controlled himself well in matters like this.
Sending intent through Reaver's Link, Luke managed to get Sooty to land nearby, glide-hopping alongside him. The Western Quadrant fielded a tiny number of inns, each demanded an exorbitant fee for the night, despite the fact they had far below maximum occupancy.
Hard to be booked when everyone who can flee the city, is. Sylen, by tomorrow morning—or the next—would have barely enough people for necessary logistics, and keeping order. Outside of a tiny minority of civilians who voluntarily stayed, everyone else would be combat-capable people. As such, Luke grumbled as he paid the two gold fee for a room. The minutes saved were worth it.
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