Emma had no idea what just happened. Thankfully, she was pretty used to that by this point, and could pretend to be calm and collected, for a short ti at least.
Edith? What's going on?
[Give a mont. There's a lot to unpack here.]
The rifleman was still waiting for her answer, so Emma decided to go with what worked before.
"I'm sure you'll be fine, if all you're facing are slingshots and the occasional handgun. I'll be heading to the Palace now."
Her reply was a bit more abrupt than last ti, but it wasn't as if the soldiers could tell the difference. In any event, Emma called Sir Bearington back out and climbed on board, ordering him onto the footpath without further hesitation. This ti, she sat facing backwards, and didn't take her eyes off of the convoy as the surviving Scavenger was restrained and bundled into the back of a van. Only when they were reduced to blurs in the distance did Emma order her mount to stop.
[Light a Black Candle.
Black Candle (5/6) withdrawn.
Matchbox withdrawn.]
Emma didn't question the order; it took a bit of fumbling to light the match one handed, but less than a minute later, the world faded from view inside a bubble of darkness.
[Alright. From this point onward, ntal communication ONLY. Even a single spoken word can put you in a hole that even I'd be hard-pressed to dig you out of. Am I clear?]
Emma nodded automatically, before realising nobody could see her.
[Good. So, as you've probably already gathered given my reaction, the situation at Blenheim Palace is FUBAR. The basent holds a teleportation gateway, not a ti machine. It's designed to send people across vast distances in less than a second, a strict act of spatial manipulation. Except that's not true, because space and ti can't be divided so neatly, despite the best efforts of physicists and philosophers alike.]
I'm not sure I understand, Emma protested.
[That's perfectly fine. Even a general overview of the subject matter is typically an optional module in the final year of an undergraduate degree in Physics, to put it into context. A deep dive would be strictly a postgraduate subject. All you need to know is that space and ti are interlinked, to the point where when one breaks badly, there are ripple effects upon the other. For a teleportation gate to beco capable of sending us backwards in ti, even by a few minutes, well, it's not looking good.
Given the circumstances, your quest needs an update.
Vae Victis quest updated!
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Objective: Assess the condition of the teleportation gateway in the catacombs beneath the Palace. [COMPLETE!]
300 EXP gained for stumbling upon a colossal shitshow.
The following have been removed.
Objective: Reclaim control of Blenheim Palace for the Empire.
Bonus Objective: Find and capture the saboteur.
Bonus Objective: Restore the connection to the mainland.
The following has been added.
Objective: Deactivate the gateway beneath Blenheim Palace before it explodes.
Rewards have been updated.
5000 Thrones >>> 25,000 Thrones
Comndation (Order of the Empire) Third Class >>> First Class
Ticket to Ride (The Ghost Train) >>> Season Ticket (The Ghost Train)
Residence Permit (Avalon) added.
Penalty for Failure anded:
1000 Throne fine, Nad and Shad >>> Death]
Those are so hefty rewards, Emma thought. That penalty though…
[Yes. Strictly speaking, a quest at this level should not be assigned to a single Practitioner, no matter how good they are at punching above their weight. The System does not assign impossible tasks, but this one is near the upper bound of what is considered achievable.
Given the extent of the changes, I can cancel this quest for you without penalty, and reassign it to a Magus who assists Paradox in maintaining the tiline. It will take longer, but he'll find this job far more familiar.]
But if the gate blows before he arrives? Emma pressed.
[Then Lough Neagh wouldn't be the biggest lake in the UK anymore. With your traits, you'd survive the blast though. Probably.]
And my family?
[Elizabeth is in Dover, so she should be far enough away. Felix is safe inside his dungeon. As for Noah, well, he might level up and get sothing to save him between now and then?]
…I'm keeping the quest, Emma shook her head. What can you tell about the inside of the Palace?
[Nothing.]
Nothing? I know you're not a big fan of my Dad, but is this really the ti?
[Indulge for a mont, alright? Picture this: a young Johne Smythe is born in Wick, in county Caithless, one of the northernmost towns in Scotland. He grew up a typical young boy, fascinated by fishing and football. He wasn't good enough to be scouted by a football academy, nor did he enjoy academia, so he took an apprenticeship on the fishing boat of a close family friend. At twenty three years old, he was swept overboard during a storm and presud dead, his body never found despite the best efforts of the coast guard. Does all this sound reasonable to you?]
Yes? Emma replied after a mont's thought. It's not the life I've known, but fishern can and do die on the job.
[Which brings to the point: prove to that Johne existed.]
How? Emma retorted. I only know of him from your story.
[Right, which ans that for you, Johne exists only insofar as I'm telling you he did. If you were to take the ti to go north, you might find more substantial signs of him. Old legal docuntation, or the accounts of friends and family. But if none of that existed? If the man is gone, and every trace of his passing extinguished, did he ever exist?]
I don't know.
[You don't know. This is a problem, the sa one I'm facing right now, trying to look into the future of a certain basent. Space is so unstable that whatever I see exists only while my intent is focused upon it. In the ti it would take to tell you what I saw, the world moves on.]
So what you're saying is…
[You're going in blind. Last chance to cancel the quest, if you want it.]
…Let's get this over with, Emma sighed, snuffing out the Black Candle, and ordering Sir Bearington to head for the palace.
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