-Arwen

Things were not looking good for Highcastle.

The city had the river located to its west, and Cu’s manor had been a bit north-west of that, so to go south we had to circle around the city eastwards before turning south, from there we’d just have to follow the road and we’d get to our destination sooner or later.

Frostshield kingdom had rivers, forests, and plains. And little else. There were a couple marshes and things got rocky nearing the north-eastern and south-western borders, but otherwise? The whole land was quite flat with small hills and small valleys all over and not much else to it. It was a kingdom where everything and everyone wanting to go from one side of the continent to the other, without a doubt, need to pass through a Frostshield city or port.

It was a kingdom of merchants and traders and riders.

And Highcastle was more so than any other city in Frostshield. Its port at the river was the largest in-land port in the kingdom, and all but one of the land trading routes in the kingdom passed through this one city. This meant that the city’s life depended on the gears of commerce turning.

Right now, those gears were stuck.

Even from as far out as we were, slowly circling the city from far enough I could cover it with the palm of my hand, even from that far out, we could see the caravans turning around at the sight of the smoldering city. Most quickly avoided the place and carried on in another direction, very few ignored its burnt state and carried on into its soot-covered walls.

At the sight of this, we decided not to rush through towards the southern road. We kept our distance from caravans as much as other riders kept a safe distance from us, but when night fell, we could see hundreds of fires littering the plains surrounding Highcastle as each group of travelers settled into their own spot to sleep in.

As we traveled, my eyes would wander towards the blackened walls.

The city would recover, in time, but this winter at least half of it would be in ruin. Many who’d survived the flames and had not escaped to find a new life elsewhere were likely to starve or freeze to death come winter. The Queen would attempt to keep her people alive through various means, but the devastation here and in the villages and cities between here and Rëa’s lair would put a serious strain on Frostshield’s resources.

Thousands would die on the streets, helpless, starved, cold.

At that thought, I felt a twinge of… something… I couldn’t really describe it. Was it… guilt? A part of me acknowledged I hadn’t just created this scenario in my story, I had worsened it by calling Thruum so he would join his mate in the rampage. In a very real sense, it could be claimed all these deaths and the many more to come were caused by my interests.

“Or maybe I was never a God.” I mulled the thought over, speaking to myself in English and feeling like it was the only way not to completely degenerate into caveman-speech. “Maybe I just had the power to see what was happening and what was going to happen had I not appeared here and wrote it down. Maybe my ‘edits’ were nothing less than me realizing my vision was mistaken and correcting it.”

The hopeful thought fleeted through me, and I quickly crushed it. Even if I hadn’t been the God of creation of this world before coming here, I was now here and aware of truths and secrets and events that, in on themselves, felt like a heavy burden.

A bitter chuckle followed. “If we find a lever that seems to do nothing, and I’m the only one who knows that pulling it would result in the deaths of dozens while not doing so would result on the deaths of thousands… does it mean that regardless of action or inaction, I am the one responsible for the resulting massacre?”

I mulled it over despite myself. If there was such a thing as a “happy ending” for the whole of the world, a result where peace was achieved and a new golden age were called forth… would all the death and sacrifices have been worth it? Would it be considered “Just” or “Good” for me to indirectly (through action or inaction) kill hundreds of thousands of innocents who knew nothing other than the simple lives they lead… all because I was the one who knew there would be no other way to achieve the utopic ending?

“If oracles exist, no wonder they only ever speak cryptically,” I muttered at no one at all but my own ears. “Give the pitiful mortals only able to live in the present the option to escape their demise with an ambiguous hint… and then wash your hands from all responsibility. It wouldn’t be your fault they didn’t comprehend your warning after all… or something along those lines?”

My eyes turned towards Blaire. I knew her mind inside and out, and I knew that for her to become the sort of badass ruthless cutthroat the slave-revolts would need as their leader… she would have to suffer. A lot. She’d need to grow to hate ‘the masters’ with every fiber of her being, to see them as the greatest enemy. Without that unwavering hatred and mistrust she would eventually run into someone she would hesitate against… and die.

Would the revolts succeed even if Blaire wasn’t the most feared rebel in the continent? Would it be fair of me to put her through hell if I deemed her unfit to fulfill the role she’d been destined to fulfill? I knew the answer to these questions, but I still did not like it because it pointed to a larger question I dared not answer: How much suffering would I be willing to create just to find my way back home?

“Knowledge is power, and I know too much.” A heavy groan had escaped me... "Or maybe I just think too much."

Not wanting to continue this line of thought, I shook my head to clear it out so I could instead focus on my other source for headaches: My magic.

I had meditated every day for a couple hours after waking up, and another couple before going to sleep, in my mind, the sensation of my “core” should have been clear from the memory of those times when my mana had been forcefully extracted. It had been a hard sphere inside my chest, an orb which the forceful extraction cracked before sucking the mana out.

But now? Now every time I closed my eyes and focused, I would feel the warmth of mana inside me that I dared not manipulate until all my aches were healed; despite this, I just couldn’t find my core, the best I got was this odd wet-ethereal-sponge-like squishy sensation. It didn’t make sense to me, but I was sure I was getting close.

In other news, least learning Common was advancing smoothly... even if Uryuc and Blaire kept trying to push towards an explanation as to where I came from.

Like right now.

They had drawn the whole kingdom of Frostshield and the neighbouring areas on the dirt. They even added a couple rivers and used jagged lines to symbolize mountain ranges at the borders. Blaire pointed her stick at a north-west corner of the kingdom and kept saying “Baby Blaire”, while Uryuc pointed at the middle-east of the kingdom saying “Baby Uryuc.”.

I mean, I understood what they were trying to get me to reveal, it was sweet and fun in a sense as they then handed the stick to me and basically burned a hole on it with their eyes while they waited for me to point where ‘Baby Arwen’ had been at.

“Good luck with that.” I muttered under my breath in English.

I’d originally thought to aim it at the sky, or perhaps just point towards some of the unoccupied lands, but quickly discarded the idea since it didn’t feel quite right. Maybe it would be best to pretend I lost my memories? I knew it was a sort of cliché, but frankly speaking it’d be way better than “Oh hey, where I came from I’m basically your God or just some weird version of an Oracle” or something.

Sighing, I pointed at where we were at right now. “Arwen today.” Then moved it a smidge westwards. “Arwen five yesterdays.” Another smidge. “Arwen ten yesterday's.” Then I poked at Highcastle city. “Arwen twelve yesterday's.” And then I made an exaggerated sigh. “Arwen twenty yesterdays, I not ask answer.”

‘Ask answer’ being my way to saying ‘to know’, because it seemed they didn’t have a singular word for the concept and I’d yet to understand in what context applied which version. I kept getting it wrong.

Fuck, it was a headache to talk like this. Even if improving at it, it felt tiring a lot of the times from the frustration of not being able to express myself properly.

At least I’d be a master of charades when I got back.

The both of them looked at one another skeptically, it seemed that as much animosity they held, the “Mystery of Arwen” was in some sense part of the reason they kept a minimum level of civility between them. “Arwen Thirty thirty thirty thirty yesterday's where?” Uryuc insisted.

I shook my head. “I not ask answer.” Touching my head, I sighed deeply. “I not ask answer where yesterday of yesterday of yesterdays.”

The two of them glanced at one another with a look of pity, silence would have been soon to follow if not for... “Why Firaga?” Blaire continued.

That was a new question, and actually perked me up slightly at having not expected it. Magic, now THERE was a subject that got me going. I moved to open the backpack and took out the small glass orb Cu had used to test my power almost half a month ago. As I extended my palm, the sphere filled out with black and red swirls that began to shine brightly.

I… frowned at that. Ignoring the other’s words, my eyes fell on the object as I studied the results, the last time it had been a multifaceted rainbow of colours. If I remembered properly, such a result came from someone having high amounts of mana but not having had developed an affinity.

Sure, gaining a specific colour meant that my mana had taken a penchant in one particular direction, which was to be expected, but what I couldn’t make heads or tails of was what it being red and black meant.

Red and yellow was fire. Black and gray were shadows. Affinities did not mix and mash however, there was no such thing as “Shadow flame affinity”. One could have a main affinity and a secondary one, and even then they weren’t impeded from casting spells outside of these pechants, it only meant that casting within their specialty would be more efficient and effective.

“So what the hell kind of affinity is black and red?” I asked myself. It seemed there were more potential results to the orb’s test than what I had accounted for in my writing. Guess I’d have to check that once we got to the library, I had little doubt there were plenty of records about these sorts of tests and their results.

“Take.” I offered the orb to them, Uryuc snatched it as he was the closest. The half-elf made a weird face as within the marble a very dim white and blue blob formed. A strong ice affinity… apparently despite his hot-headedness. Shame he barely had mana. The half-elf kept looked at the blob as the blob danced inside the marble.

Then Blaire asked for it and the marble went to her. For a moment I’d thought nothing had happened but as I leaned closer I saw a tiny flickering red and yellow light dancing near the center. Made sense, though she had fire affinity, she had as low an amount of mana as one could get.

Uryuc seemed smug about the result, the dwarf just rolled her eyes at him while handing the orb back to me. “Firaga?”

I shook my head. “No firaga.” I pointed at Uryuc, who deflated quite quickly. “No firaga.” I pointed at Blaire, she just shrugged. “Yes firaga.” I pointed at myself, it being my turn to be smug.

Pausing, I brought out the map, my finger pointed once more towards the south of Highcastle. “Arwen.” I passed the map towards Blaire.

She nodded. “Blaire.” She pointed in the same direction, and then gave it to Uryuc.

The red-head hesitated, glancing at me and then at Blaire, frowning and shaking his head, he pointed at the same spot. “Uryuc.”

I felt he’d had to convince himself about it. “If you say so.” I muttered with a shrug.

With a nod, I decided it was time to bring out an important discussion item before they ganged up on me with a new question. I took out the sack that the tall-pony I rode had been carrying and brought it to the camp-site. Opening it for others to see, I made a motion at the empty space. “Three food, two food, one food, zero food.” I indicated, hoping to get my message across. “Days food ask. Zero food bad.”

“Zero food bad.” They nodded along, sighing heavily in turn as they looked at one another with worry.

Carefully, I brought out the food I’d divided into parcels by putting them into folded pieces of linen. “One day, Two days, Three days… Six days.” I counted the days I had left. “Eight days if small food.” Looking at them expectantly, they moved to count the supplies they carried.

Uryuc had eaten the most out of us, probably because he hadn’t compartmentalized it, he’d have enough for four days without stretching it thin. I gave him one of my packets and he shot me a weird look again like when I’d given him the silver coin back at the manor. I just waved at the expression and rolled my eyes.

“Food coin ask?” I pointed at the fires that littered the darkening fields.

“” Blaire spoke as she tossed a copper coin at me and grabbed a parcel of food. “” She then pushed the parcel back and made a motion for me to give her the coin. An easy enough concept.

“Purchase food?” I reiterated, lifting the parcel. “One, two, three, coin?”

“” Uryuc said. “Big price, big coin, small price, small coin.”

“Price food ask?” My hand kept the parcel of food in the air as I stared at them. Man, it was weird returning to capitalism, a weird sensation came over me and my attempt at figuring out the value of food and how much purchasing power my stack of coins had.

“Five, six, seven, eight copper.” Blaire replied. “ Five eight copper.”

A new word, I sighed and stood to move to a spot. “Arwen between Blaire Uryuc.” Her nod was the confirmation I needed, so back to sitting I went. Welp, it seemed we had at least a temporary solution to our food shortage, though we’d have to look for ways to find more food or to earn coins sooner than later.

I decided to go back to meditating until it was my turn to be the guard over the camp.

-Yselda

“Has he woken?”

The female minotaur felt the question weigh down on her shoulder like a falling tree. She need not say a word to Rainer, only shaking her head as she cleaned her hands on the basin.

His expression grew grim. “And the healer?”

“The one here was called to Hightower under the Queen’s decree. To aid with the disaster.” Yselda clutched her hands tightly.

The statement caused Rainer’s frown deepen. “Have you ever seen such a thing before?”

She’d been about to answer, but was interrupted by a thump and a scream.

Instantly the both of them rushed into the room. Master Cu was on the floor, writhing as he clutched his gut. Bloodshot yellowed eyes opened at the sight of them. “Do not approach me!” He screamed between coughs, the veins on his face bulging and turning blacker.

They froze where they were, watching with an increasing sense of powerlessness as their Master clutched his jaw shut and screamed. They flinched, partially horrified as the veins leading to his arms were becoming more visible, and darkening.

“Master!” Yselda took a step forward.

“NO!” Cu screamed as he toppled over, clutching his gut. “This… this is a curse.” A humourless laugh escaped him. “I should’ve known… denounced him to the imperators…”

“Master…” Yselda held her own arm tightly.

“Listen to me!” The dwarf panted for air, pulling himself to sit on the floor and lean against the wall. “The… the Church of Swords, go to them. In my… in my pocket…” He frowned as he touched his tunic, before shaking his head. “...doesn’t matter. Go to the Church, tell them…” Heaving air, he coughed and groaned, jaw clenching tightly and suppressing another scream. “Tell them that that slave… he’s… tell them I’ve been cursed by someone not from the mud. They’ll… they’ll know what that means.”

“Yes.” Tears were beginning to form on the corners of her eyes. Yselda barely managed to nod emphatically while stiffing her upper lip. “We will, Master.”

“Good.” Nodding, he made a gesture towards the door. “Hurry.”

“Yselda, you take care of Master, I’ll go tell the priest.” Rainer didn’t hesitate, rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

“You should go too.” Cu looked up at her weakly, pale and shivering, the dwarf appeared barely able to remain conscious.

“Nonsense.” She replied softly, she wanted to help him back onto the bed, but the dwarf refused to let her close. “Master…”

“If you get close... the curse… it could pass on to you.” He spoke between coughs. “That damn slave… Probably cast it before leaving.” There was a heavy sigh, followed by more coughing, the dwarf shuddering and starting to tremble. “It was… it was too good to be true… I knew I should’ve…”

His head limped forwards and he became silent.

A cold shiver ran down Yselda’s back, and all too suddenly she was not afraid of being cursed. She rushed to the dwarf. “Master?” She reached to touch his jugular, to find a pulse. “Master!?” Greater desperation tainted her words while her fingers frantically searched for any signs of life. “Master!”

No matter how much she looked, there was no life to be found.

- ????

The splash of water combined with his heavy breathing deafened his ears. The tunnel was narrow, damp, and dimly lit, but his eyes could catch the flicker of shadows created from the torches of those chasing him.

They spoke in that gibbering human tongue, repeating themselves as if unable to say anything else.

He limped as he pushed himself to move faster, his wounded leg burned, his tail subconsciously leaning to the opposite side to help alleviate and compensate for the wound. But the bleeding was profuse and it would only be a matter of time before he collapsed.

If he didn’t lose the pursuers before then...

Mana pooled within his hands, the spell dancing through his mind as he followed the forms. He jumped, drawing an arc with his palms and aiming the magic upwards. A burst of air followed and the whole tunnel rumbled. Several large rocks fell on the floor…

...but the tunnel had not collapsed.

A curse escaped his lips and he tried to run as hard as he could go, hoping that at least the couple seconds worth of panic from the pursuers would ensure he’d have a chance to find somewhere to hide… or to at least get out of this damn maze.

Light. A sliver of it, he had barely caught sight of it and had had to take a step back to confirm. Freedom. He glanced back at the pursuers, their torches had grown distant, had he managed to slip out of their attention through the flickering shadows?

A deep breath to calm himself, his steps slowed, he had to make sure not to lead them to his location through noise.

Carefully, slowly, impatiently, he limped between fallen pieces of debris and the columns of the underground labyrinth. The ray of light was probably only visible to him, whose eyes could clearly see in perfect darkness, whereas the humans would be partially blinded by their own torches.

Just a bit, just a little more, just another step. He kept telling himself over and over, not very far until he got out, until he met with the others and they’d escape the city under the cover of darkness. No more skulking and scurrying through the underground completely lost and having to feed on rats and other creatures that survived in the filth. A fortnight down here had been too long, far too long.

He missed the sea.

His breath hitched when he reached the tiny sliver of light. Peeking through it he could see the moon’s light, the surface was so close.

Carefully this time, he pooled his mana, he gathered it and twisted it around, a sharp ear out for the humans that were looking him among the shadows of hundreds of columns. He wanted to get the spell perfectly right this time, and there was not much mana left, there wouldn’t be a second chance either.

Once it was prepared, he let it loose on the stone and soil above his head. The magic unravelled and spread upwards, bit by bit gaining hold of every gram of dirt and applying control over it. Slowly, the column leading upwards widened, until was just half again the width of his own shoulders.

The spell ended silently, he shuddered, feeling weak from the exertion. He only had to climb, no big deal, he’d had to do worse on a daily basis during his training days. With a moment to recover his breath, he leapt and grasped at the lower edge of the shaft.

The rock crumbled and he fell.

“” Someone shouted.

There was little time, he had to get out right now. With an effort, he crouched and readied himself to jump again. Just one more jump and he’d be out of their reach.

He leapt.

A hand grasped his leg and pulled.

“NO!” He screamed as his hand couldn’t grasp the wall firmly enough.

He fell as the humans gathered around him.

There would be no escape.

-Rainer

Their home was gone.

Rainer and Yselda stood side by side, the male minotaur barely registering that she was holding his hand tightly. The both of them stood frozen in shock at the sight of the burnt remains of the manor that for many years had been their home.

“So he doubled back.” The voice was stern and cold, the human man stood tall within his silver armor. His steps were heavy, crushing everything under his soles as he stepped closer to the smoking ruins, carefully peering. “It seems he knows we would try tracking him.” The golden sword on his chest-plate glimmered under the sun, piercing blue eyes met the minotaur’s. “Was the manor the only place he’d been in? Do you know anywhere else he might have spilt blood?”

Rainer found his voice after a long silence, shaking his head. “After Master brought him, we kept him locked in the cellar.”

“I see.” The man’s eyes moved towards the others. “If I remember properly, the Commander in Highcastle died trying to stop the rampaging dragon, correct? Then my authority should be above whoever remains there.” He cleared his throat. “Send a message to the imperators in Highcastle to start scouring the northern areas of the city and inspecting those travelling the roads. Their target is a human travelling with a blonde dwarf and/or a red-headed half-elf, with short-horses carrying a dwarven brand.”

“He has blue eyes, and short brown hair.” Yselda spoke, a shake carrying in her voice. “He isn’t starved, and he sometimes appears as if he were of nobility, his hands are smooth too.”

“Irrelevant.” The reply was terse. “The unblessed ones usually learn to alter their own appearance rather quickly, and this one seems to know we could use his blood to track him, so he must have some experience.” Pausing, he frowned. “Also do not detail the nature of the threat in the message, only that they must temporarily magically-detain the people matching the description until we’ve come there to confirm their innocence.”

“Sir?” The robbed man appeared surprise at this.

“If he has experience then he will quickly notice any normal traps we set out. But it would be far likelier he wouldn’t have his guard up if the soldiers believe they are merely looking for a rogue mage.”

“But…” The man grimaced. “Right now Highcastle and its roads… there’s not going to be enough men, not when the Queen ordered them to assist in recovery and reconstruction.”

“A powerful enough unblessed one could curse every last drop of water in Highcastle and ensure everyone within those walls is dead before fall comes.” The black haired man snapped with a bark. “If the Queen finds out about this, I will personally take responsibility. We cannot allow a second calamity to occur.”

“Yes Inquisitor.” The robbed man bowed and turned around, moving towards the horses. The man wrote on a small piece of parchment and then opened a box that had been on the back of the horse, inside there had been a pigeon. After tying the message, the bird was released and it flew out towards the capital.

“What if he didn’t go towards Highcastle?” One of the soldiers spoke.

“South and West have too many towns and cities, not to mention there is a stronger Church presence in those directions.” The Inquisitor shook his head. “If he wishes to escape or slip through our fingers, then he must have headed North or East. Highcastle is the waypoint for anyone wanting to follow those routes.”

“We want to help.” Rainer spoke firmly, clenching his jaw as he stepped forward. “We are slaves, just tell us what we need to do. Tell us how we can be of use.”

“Please.” Yselda added with resolute eyes.

“Patron Cu had made arrangements long ago that everything that was his would be donated to the Church in the eventuality of his death without having a successor.” The man shook his head. “He may not have been a man of zeal, but he was one who’s given much to the Holy Sword.” Stepping forward, he placed a metal gloved hand on each of their shoulders. “You are slaves no longer, you are Initiates… even if you are a bit old for the position.”

It was the first sign of humour they’d seen from the imposing man, the coldness in his eyes waning only slightly as he allowed his stern expression to show the barest of smiles. But the frown returned. “I will leave you at Highcastle when we get there, you will be expected to train and aid the Church to rebuild.”

“But…!” Rainer felt his temper flare as he thought of the revenge he desired.

“Both of you would be burdens in a fight against an unblessed one.” The voice was firm. “As you are now, you’d only get in our way.”

“I can fight! I am good with a blade!” Rainer complained, face contorting into a deep scowl. “And no matter how you look at it, that man was weak.”

“Very well.” The armor clad man spoke with an odd look in his eyes, releasing their shoulders and stepping back four paces. “If you take three steps, I will allow you to continue with us.”

Immediately the minotaur set out to do just that, mentally preparing himself for what would most likely be a fight. In his mind, he told himself to raise his arms, and move forwards and prepare to dodge in case a blow came from the gauntleted figure.

In reality however, he found his muscles didn’t obey.

Simply put, his muscles did not so much as twitch. There was no movement whatsoever, as if the link between his mind and his body had been severed. He could still feel the earth beneath his feet, and yet he couldn’t even cause his neck muscles to tense.

Panic blossomed in his chest as his body would not respond to his will.

“I am waiting, Initiate.” The man crossed his thick arms and looked at the minotaur sternly.

Rainer would’ve opened his mouth to say something, but not even his throat responded to his will. He could even feel himself breathing, and yet he couldn’t control it any more than he could his arms. He was trapped within his own body.

Tak

From the corner of his eye, he saw Yselda having managed to take a step. Her jaw was tight, her face red and her neck to tense veins were bulging. The female minotaur had a permanent glare fixated on the man, her breathing heavy through her clenched teeth.

“That’s enough.” The man spoke, and suddenly the two minotaurs felt their bodies crumble as control was given back to them. “What you’ve just experienced was a low level paralysis blood-spell. If you can’t prevent such a parlor trick from gaining a hold of you, then you would surely be dead as the caster could finish you off with but a simple dagger.”

“Blood spell?” Yselda spoke, panting for breath as Rainer aided her to stand up.

“Yes, that is the specialty of unblessed ones.” The man spoke with a distasteful scowl. “They are those the Gods did not bless with a core, their magic seeps into their blood, turning it into a cursed unholy concoction. Their very flesh becomes poisonous, their presence harbinging calamities and death to everyone around them.”

“He may be a monster.” Yselda spoke. “But I do not believe he brought the dragon to rampage in Highcastle.”

At those words Rainer froze, a memory surfaced into his mind.

The Inquisitor laughed at her statement, the first true sound of amusement that had come from him since they’d met. “Indeed, were unblessed ones able to control dragons, things would be quite… different.” There was an amused expression.

But Rainer was not hearing him, his thoughts were elsewhere, in a recent memory.

The image clear as day in his mind’s eye. They’d been preparing to depart, and he had been loading the wagon with some crates when he’d noticed the human just standing at the barn entrance as he looked at the burning city. For a moment Rainer had been about to dismiss the wasted attention on the slave, but there had been an expression on the human’s face that had perturbed him.

Even now, the image had been ingrained into his memory.

One of the human smiling with a manic smile on his lips.

“I do not think he controlled the dragon.” The male minotaur spoke with a deep scowl. Deep inside he knew. He might not be sure of how, or why, but there was a certainty growing within his chest with every beat of his heart. “But I am sure he called it to destroy Highcastle.”

That the person responsible for Master’s death had also brought a calamity upon them all.

Yselda looked at Rainer with a slight frown, before she seemed to realize something and speaking up. “He also doesn’t know Common, or at least shouldn’t know much, he barely began learning it not that long ago.”

That made the Inquisitor look at her curiously, or rather, with his stony expression being perturbed solely by a millimetrically raised eyebrow. “And what was his native tongue?”

“I’d never heard it before, nor had the Master.” She shook her head. “Master had said it wasn’t the language of Dwarves, Elves, or Orcs.” The female minotaur continued. “And I can personally attest it wasn’t a language I’ve heard from Beast-Kin.”

That got the second brow to mimic the first. “Do you remember any words he said?”

“Fuk ou.” Rainer snorted with an irritated growl. “Seemed like an insult.”

“Eel maek dat duarv cunt kees may as.” Yselda added. “He usually said this while cleaning the meal’s dishes when he thought others couldn’t hear him... it sometimes felt like he was muttering a curse.”

“That doesn’t sound like Demonic.” The Inquisitor rubbed his metallic gauntlet against his chin, deep in thought and then shook his head.

“Sir, I think I’ve heard something similar once before.” The robbed man who’d dispatched the messenger pigeon spoke, seeming unsure. “It may be a coincidence since it’s just one word, but ‘Cunt’ in the language of Spirits means ‘Oh mighty one’.”

That made the Inquisitor’s brow fuse into a single continuous line that cast a deep shadow on his eyes, then he shook his head. “We have none here who’s communed with Spirits, nor a trapped one we could interrogate.” He gave a nod at Yselda and Rainer. “However, the detail of not being familiarized with Common will prove to our advantage since he will be far less likely to have left behind the dwarf or the half-elf.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The two minotaurs bowed.

“You are initiates now, and I am an Inquisitor.” The man marched towards his warhorse, the gray and brown splotched creature barely reacting to the massive armored man seating himself on top, a testament of the sheer power the quadruped held. “Let us ride, we have prey to hunt.”

-Arwen

My yawn was interrupted by a sneeze. Frankly, I cannot express in words how uncomfortable such a thing is. It very abruptly perturbed my morning meditation and leaving me feeling rather miffed at life in general for some reason.

Now out of this state of mind, I glanced at Blaire and Uryuc packing up their things to get ready for the road after our brief lunch. My stomach rumbled a complaint despite having just eaten and I sighed heavily. The plan to buy food had had… mixed results. As it turned out, everyone right now was selling high, almost double what Blaire had estimated during our talkings. And I was quite sure it wouldn’t be going down anytime soon, at least not until harvest time.

We didn’t have much of an alternative though, with the amount of caravans and people moving about the place, what little odds of hunting for food we may have had were reduced to nil, and unless we wanted to steal we would have to buy the food.

There was a team-consensus that stealing was going to be left as a last resort and only after we were somewhere a bit less crowded. So that meant carefully rationing our food. Which meant being hungry a lot but not to a debilitating degree… at least not yet. We just had to pick up the pace and hurry past Hightower and its localized bubble of inflated food prices.

And all the while, inside my head, I kept counting days.

Rëa had left the capital a little less than two weeks ago. In that time she’d have headed towards the north-east towards her ancient lair. However, Thruum was likely to have intercepted her somewhere along the way and the both of them headed west then south towards his new lair in the mountain-range.

How long would that take? How long would they rest? How much time would they spend together as their reunion before they’d each set out to do their own thing? Would Thruum decide to come look for me right away or would he put it off until it tickled his fancy? Gods I hoped it was the latter, I’d written enough about Thruum to know that once he set his eyes on an objective he would tirelessly pursue it.

“This is so unfair.” I muttered to myself in English. “Why am I being teased by vectors and trigonometry mathematics when I’m in a medieval setting?” There was a silent cry against the heavens. “I don’t even know their distance or speed!”

Not for the first time, Blaire and Uryuc looked at me worriedly but kept quiet. So I was reduced to silent grumbling and speculation of the ETA to doom.

Clopclop clopclop

Clopclop clopclop

The horse’s hooves sounded off on the hard road with a rhythmic sort of noise that was, strangely, soothing. I noticed that the density of caravans, carts, wagons, and people in general was going up steadily. My eyes followed the road, it soon became clear the closer to Highcastle the road got, the thicker the number of travellers.

Several miles ahead I could actually see a crowd gathered around the road, gold and white uniformed soldiers were scattered around the area… and they looked like they were inspecting the wagons before allowing them to continue down the road that lead towards Hightower and also southwards. It was odd considering how far they were from the city gates, probably so that the wagon-jam didn’t happen at the very entrance of the city. What would they be doing? It didn’t seem like they were taking stuff out of the carts so I doubted it was some sort of tax.

I grimaced at the realization we were riding stolen horses that were branded.

“Stop.” I told the others, signalling for them to move to the side so we could talk uninterrupted and outside the range of the merchant’s curious ears. The both of them complied and I got off the horse, pointing at the gathering of guards in the distance. “Steal horses.” I said, tapping the rear of my steed. “No good.”

They looked at each other and grimaced. “Circle?” Uryuc made a motion starting beneath him, going off the road to the left, and then following the horizon before stopping on the continuation of the road way ahead of the gathering of soldiers.

Blaire shook her head. “No food.” And she was right, right now anyone getting off the road to go through the bushes would get spotted, so a lot of distance would be needed… and there would be no merchants along that route. Our food was already stretched thin enough.

I considered the problem for a moment. “One circle, three horses.” I said, repeating Uryuc’s gesture. “Two go, zero horse.” The second gesture followed along the road. “Circle plus food. Zero-horse plus coin.”

A pause, nods from everyone. “Who circle?” Asked Blaire.

-Blaire

The argument was intense in a bizarre way. Each of them had an idea regarding who to send to circle around, and none liked the ideas of the others. Uryuc didn’t want to send Blaire because he didn’t trust her with the horses. Blaire didn’t want to send Uryuc for the same reason.

And everyone but Arwen agreed that sending Arwen was a big mistake. His near total inability to understand and speak Common would ensure that any encounter he had would leave quite the impression on whoever he attempted to talk to.

“If Uryuc horses bad. If Blaire horses bad. Ask Why Uryuc Good with Arwen. Ask Why Blaire Good with Arwen.” He was heavily pouting while trying to get his point across.

If Uryuc was bad with the horses? Did he mean mistrust? Then the second part…

The half-elf and her shared a glance. “...he’s asking why we don’t trust either one alone with the horses but would trust being alone with him… right?”

“Seems so…” Uryuc scratched the back of his head. “...Is he complaining we’re arguing over who goes with the horses instead of who goes with him?”

“Probably.” Blaire shrugged. “Either that, or because we’re not arguing who’s not going to go with him.”

“I’ll take the horses.” The half-elf blurted for the upteenth time, but raised his hands before Blaire could counter him. “And I will leave everything of value with you save my sword and the food.” As he said this, he looked at her with a serious expression.

The dwarf sighed and nodded. “Uryuc circle.” She conceded.

Arwen didn’t seem quite as disappointed to not be the one with the horses as she’d expected him to be, the human instead immediately bringing out the drawn map and pulling Uryuc and Blaire to huddle around it. His finger poked at the spot above Hightower. “Uryuc, Blaire, Arwen, here.” He said, and then moved the finger downwards to an horizontal line that cut the river. “There.”

With his foot, he drew two parallel curved lines, and beneath them a single straight one. “Bridge.” Blaire said without needing to wonder further.

“Bridge.” Arwen nodded, turning to the half-elf. “Uryuc, go bridge, two days. No Blare, no Arwen, Uryuc go.”

That brought a frown. “Go where?”

The human shook his head. “Three days. Yes Blaire, yes Arwen, Go.” He pointed at the southern edge of the map. “No Blaire, no Arwen. Go.” He then poked at the map everywhere, then pauses. “Blaire, Arwen, Go. No Uryuc? Two days. No Uryuc? Go.”

They look at each other. “Whoever reaches the bridge first waits two days for the others.” Blaire’s jaw tightened. “And if the others don’t get there before then, they should carry on without them.”

Blaire felt a slight surprise at the sudden apprehension in Uryuc’s face at the statement. “No.” He replied.

Arwen shook his head. “Yes.” He retorted. “Uryuc go bridge, Arwen dead, Blaire dead. Ask days many?”

The redhead’s lips thinned as he glared at the map. “Five days.” He intoned.

“No.” The human stated flatly. “Two days.” A pause, then one more word. “Cu ask days many?”

She could practically see Uryuc’s face fall. Cu was undoubtedly going to send someone to hunt them down the instant he got a town or city. If Blaire and Arwen… or Uryuc… missed the meeting because they’d been killed, then the longer whoever had reached the bridge waited, then the likelier the hunters would find them too.

The plan left a bitter taste in her mouth.

-????

He was underground again.

His wrists were chained to the piece of wood above him, forcing them to remain above his head. Cuffs kept his ankles equally restrained against the piece of wood at his feet. Immediately he reached out to cast a spell to break the manacles, but nothing happens.

“So they sealed my magic.” He grumbled while looking around the dark room.

It was a large room separated into two parts. One was where he’d been chained up, a set of thick black metal bars separating his cell from the only door leading out of the room. There were other cells besides his own, but they were empty.

On the other side of the barrs was a wooden table stained with dark black-ish marks all over. There were chains hanging from the roof and metal loops pinned to the floor.

He knew a torture room when he saw one.

For a moment he struggled against the chains once more, only to give up on wasting effort uselessly. His eyes traversed the room while he searched for any new detail he might have missed. But it seemed there was nothing he could use right now.

A heavy sigh followed by him tightening his jaw shut. He’d known it would come down to this if he was caught alive. There would be no option but to endure until he died or rescue came. But he had ordered the others to leave, and had sacrificed himself with the distraction to buy them time.

There was a whimsical thought that crossed his mind.

What a shame that he’d never see the sea again.

-Arwen

“Called it, should’ve been the one to take the horses.” I grumbled in English as one of the soldiers had taken one good look our way and begun shouting as he sprinted towards us. I recognized the uniform, they were from the Church, which meant that this world’s equivalent of the KGB was singling me out. “Fuck.”

I didn’t need to even wonder whether they were just coincidentally mistaking me for someone else they were looking for. First, after what I’ve gone through, such convenient thing felt very unlikely. Second, ever heard of when the KGB was hunting for Mr Rabbit in the forest?

They came out a week latter with a bear all battered and bruised claiming he was Mr Rabbit.

No thank you.

I dropped everything that wasn’t inside my pockets. “” I shoved Blaire towards the traffic-jam of people hoping she’d take the hint and disappear among the spectating bodies while I broke into a dead sprint sticking close to the crowd of caravans and merchants, I avoided stepping into the crowd since it would slow me down, but also didn’t get too far from them to avoid giving them the easy choice of shooting me down with an arrow or some long range spell casting.

“Why the fuck did I have to go ahead and make a shitty fucking medieval secret police!?” I berated myself as I ran, looking over my shoulder and thanking all the Gods and Goddesses above and below that I was not weighed down by armour like the screaming soldiers.

Not that it mattered, seeing the horses starting to break from the ranks as they galloped towards me, I was quite sure no amount of running was going to get me out of this sticky situation.

At least it seemed they’d completely ignored Blaire. “Think, you stupid fuck, think.” I was already gasping for breath as I kept running, the soldiers were screaming orders at the crowd, some were starting to react and move away from me. “Oh, right, the crowd.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. I pointed my finger to the sky in the general opposite direction the soldiers were coming from. Taking as deep a breath as I could manage, I screamed at the top of my lungs. “” I screamed, and kept screaming as I plunged into the crowd.

Was it mean of me to use the very recent trauma and terror these people had developed from Rëa’s attack? Why yes, yes it was. But was it worth it? Yup.

Some of the peasants or those walking on their own had reacted instantly and began running without so much as looking back, and though there were some who were looking for the threat, the mob was already spreading in a rush to get away from there as quickly as possible.

The soldiers that had been charging towards me, both those on horse and those on foot, had very suddenly found themselves a tide of panicked riders, wagons, and riders as the crowd was desperately dispersing in every direction away from the direction the threat was coming from.

I took the opportunity to instantly do a U-turn and follow the mob to try and lose myself into their numbers, keeping my head low and sticking close to one of the wagons to use as cover. Every passing second I prayed that the stampeding mob would carry enough inertia to break through the check-point, that the chaos would let me escape.

It was, sadly, futile.

One moment I was running with my head lowered and my eyes madly darting around. I’d barely registered the sensation of pooling magic around me, and the next instant I had been yoinked. My body flew up and away from the wagon I was using as cover like some invisible giant claw had grabbed me and thrown me across the field.

I screamed as for a very brief second I soared a meter or two over the masses. I was weighless for only a split second, then I began to fall and crashed against the ground. My body was not very happy about that, and it made damn sure to leave its opinion very clear. It was adrenaline that stopped me from focusing too much on the pain and instead had me staring around in a desperate attempt to find out what the fuck had just happened.

Then I spotted it, the figure was floating a couple dozen meters over the checkpoint, it wore orange and gold robes, the Holy Sword painted in black on its chest.

It was a windmage, or a spirit mage with several wind-spirits under is control. Didn’t matter, I had little doubt they were a cut above your ordinary spellslinger.

“Fuck my life.” I muttered, as I realized I’d been thrown towards where the mob was much more scattered. I couldn’t spot any Church soldiers, but there was little doubt they’d be here and fast.

The robbed figure extended its hand towards me, the magic of the spell beginning to swirl. “Oh shit!” I didn’t hesitate, running straight towards the nearest tree. At this distance the spell HAD to use line of sight, I had to break it before…

Yoink.

I screamed again as I was grabbed by the invisible hand and thrown straight up. My eyes widened in panic at the growing distance between me and the ground. Ten meters, fifteen, twenty… thirty? I was not going to survive this fall. Fear turned panic, and as my inertia died and switched direction, the fear started to multiply at an exponential rate.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Desperation was rushing through me as I focused on the only possible option I had to survive: magic. Logically I knew I was screwed, I had no control and knew no spells. But did I have an alternative? No. My option was to try something and most likely die, or try nothing and certainly die.

The mana rushed through my body like a warm blanket, unadulterated panic made me draw everything I had and spread it through every fiber of my being as the image of being indestructible was the sole focus of the entirety of my being.

The ground rushed up to meet me head on.

YOINK

The invisible hand grasped my torso and the fall quite quickly slowed, before I was thrown back up. I’d still been screaming mind you, but it had not been until I’d started to fall down for the third time that it clicked in my brain that the robed mage was toying with me.

By the eighth toss, my limbs were shaking from the adrenaline high I’d been going through, the mana that had been burning throughout the whole of my being had dispersed or gotten burnt out. The mage was too far away for me to do anything about it, and at no point of my up-down seesaw did I get close enough to the ground I could at least try to hold on…

So I resigned myself, escape wasn’t possible unless I suddenly found a way to hit a target several hundred meters away with crippling force… and managed to land the hit. So that was a big nope for me.

It’s surprising how accepting the inevitability of a situation can make you shift perspective. “Oy!” I waved at the mage, then pointed upwards. “Higher!” Hey, if I wasn’t going to be able to escape from wind-magic-bungee-jumping hell, I might as well try to enjoy it while it lasts. “Yeah!” I shouted and laughed as I began to fall.

This time the wind didn’t pull me back up when I got near enough to the ground, instead, it threw me sideways. “Oof.” The earth blurred beneath me until my foot touched ground, then heaven and earth began to whirl wildly out of control, switching with one another at dizzying speed. If I hit something along the way, I didn’t notice.

Turns out that taunting the wind mage was both a horrible and a brilliant idea.

“Again!” I said while just laying on my back as I could feel how the planet spun. I had to make a considerable effort not to puke.

With shaking legs and a very messed up sense of balance, I managed to stand up and grasp the nearby tree for support while my feet danced beneath me at their own accord. My brain was starting to secede enough processing power away from the task of balancing myself upright towards considering my current situation.

I was barely standing, I was next to a tree, Earth was dancing ‘You spin me right round’; not much else. Oh, and the wind mage was floating above the treeline and looking down at me, the robes fluttering under a powerful localized gale of some kind.

I think I noticed she had shining blue eyes, but it wasn’t like I could verify as I was thrown away from the tree into the air. My body traced a circle around the mage’s floating body and then was shot up. “Wee!” I managed to taunt further while closing my eyes and spreading my arms wide.

I’m about to puke, but damn if I was going to let see me complain about the free ride.

The movements I was being put through had gone up several notches. Now it wasn’t just lazyly tossing me up and catching me or spinning me in wide circles. Now it was like I’d been tossed into a large tumble dryer set to hyperspeed after it was kicked down the longest flight of stairs in the world while a magnitude 10 earthquake was happening at the same time.

Up, down, around, sideways, back, down, counterclockwise, front, down, left, left, right up. My body was a ragdoll in the deafening currents that buffeted me from all directions. Fucking wind-mage, did this woman have a bottomless pit of mana or something?

“Weeee…” I muttered weakly between coughs from nearly failed attempts to hold my stomach in.

The shakedown continued for… maybe five minutes? By the end of it I was unceremoniously dropped and I was back to square one of having to struggle with my brain to tell it that no, the world wasn’t spinning so fast days could pass by in seconds.

I was forcefully put face-down against the ground, and a heavy set of cuffs made the position abruptly much more uncomfortable and painful. Two pairs of hands forced me to my feet much to the reproach of their shaking-jelly state of existence. My gaze was half blurred, as I vaguely registered the mage landing.

“One star, the wait time for the ride is fucking eternal.” I mumbled with a cock-sure grin, proud of my personal victory of having somehow managed to keep my lunch from escaping this whole time. Because why wouldn’t I? It seemed like the only meaningful thing I’d be managing to pull off today.

Unintelligible words were exchanged, questions were apparently asked, and I was apparently resisting arrest while also being unable to properly walk straight… or something along those lines I’m guessing, because I got pummeled by a whole lot of fists and boots before being dragged off towards a heavily barred wagon that had two other guys chained up inside.

Sitting down on the floor, I glanced at the closest one as he stared out the barred windows with a deep panic about something or another.

“So, first time?” I asked in English and chuckled at the looks of confusion they gave me.

“Anyway, so I move the blade from his throat to his balls and suddenly he’s all sweet talk and stuttering!” I chuckle at myself. “It’s so weird how so many will value their ability to fuck more than their life, it’s almost like they only live for it.”

The other two prisoners had been increased into five, all of them were nervous as their eyes kept dancing around the prison-wagon and out the couple barred windows before settling on me, appearing unsettled, and going back to looking every other which way.

Someone outside hammered against the door and shouted something, the other prisoners flinched and shrunk.

“Oh fuck off!” I shouted back. “Your whole organization is built around a two thousand year old lie! The High Imperious betrayed the First Pope and lied about the origin of demons!” More hammering and words, angrier words. “I made you guys because my editor insisted the idea of adding a Warhammer-inspired gore-friendly conspiracy-heavy inquisition to my story would give it enough edginess to draw in a broader teen audience! And I’d been stupid enough to do it!” I laughed some more. “And it’s because of you dumb fucks and all the convoluted secretive scheming bullshit that I ended up on a hiatus while I tried to figure out how to untangle it!”

The door swung open, a soldier stormed inside, there was no need for words, his intent was clear. He grasped the collar of my shirt and pulled my face up while his fist came in the opposite direction. I saw stars spiral in the darkness from my closed eyes.

“C’mon!” I spat, laughing up at him. “My grandmother hits harder than you.” He didn’t need to understand me, his fist came back to my head. “Is that all you got?”

The soldier continued until my mouth was bloodied and my left eye had begun to swell shut before tossing me back down. “Is that all?” I taunted, coughing and spitting out blood.

Anger flashed through his face, and had begun to spin around to face me again when a sharp word made him stop.

I grinned. “That’s right, you can’t go overboard, not before the interrogation.” I spoke, spitting a bloody glob at his feet. “Can’t bludgeon me too hard or else I won’t be able to answer the questions during the torture. Not that I’ll be able to answer anything anyways since I can barely understand Common and no one here understands English.”

He growled, the sharp word from outside was repeated more harshly.

“.” I crudely taunt in Common.

He’s about to step inside, the order has new words to them and the man goes pale before rushing out, sending one last death-glare my way.

When the door shuts I frown at it, my mind wanders through what was to come and its inevitability. How I’d be taken to some dungeon somewhere and, following Inquisition MO, get tortured just in case I happen to know something they may find useful before being summarily executed. I may get ‘picked’ as someone worthy of being spared in exchange of ‘service’ to the Chruch, but I’d be forced to sign some magical contracts that would make the shackles I’d worn at the manor seem like wet tissue-paper.

Still, I was not afraid of them. I would’ve rather not get caught, but now that they had captured me I wasn’t going to just roll over and beg while they flayed me into bloody strips. The Church of Swords was an edgy conspiracy nut-case I should’ve never created, and I planned to treat them as such.

Or I’d die laughing at the joke at least.

-????

“” The human spoke soothingly, the pliers locking tightly around the demon’s fingernail.

“...”

“” He replied, grasping the pliers and pulling.

“...!” The demon’s eyes closed slightly, a grunt reaching his throat, but his lips not parting.

“” A cold laugh followed. “”

The demon was breathing hard even through his effort to remain appearing indifferent and unaffected.

“” The human leaned away and pulled out a piece of jerky from his pocket. “”

“...”

“” The man laughed as he took the piece of jerky into his mouth, there was a knocking at the door. “”

The human vanished from his line of sight, the sound of the door opening and chains rattling was heard. “” A momentary pause. “”

The faint noise of paper being unfurled could barely be heard. The human lunatic appeared to hum to himself happily. “”

The demon stirred and leaned to look at what was happening, his nose caught the scent of a human but it was slightly different to what he’d felt it should have been. His eyes fell on the chained human as he was pushed towards the cell adjacent to the one he was made to spend most time in.

The prisoner yawned and shrugged as the door was closed behind him. “So this is my new temporal abode…”

“...!” Disbelief coursed through the demon as he watched the new human with widened eyes, disbelieving what his ears were hearing.

“” The older man commented as he rubbed his chin, looking at the human, he slammed his cane against the bars. “”

The younger human was slightly startled but only barely. “Do you really want to ruin the moment like that?” He scratched his chin. “Let’s see, how was it…” A weary grin followed. “”

“” The warden said idly, smiling. “”

“Smile all you want, just give me the opportunity and I’ll shove those rotten teeth down your throat.” The other replied with a sweet cold smile. “Consider it a future free dentist appointment.”

“” The older human frowned. “” Turning towards the demon, he grumbled. “”

“Wait…” The human prisoner had stopped focusing on the older one and had instead discovered the demon as he lay strapped to the table. A gasp escaped him. “Oh fuck, it’s you!”

The demon narrowed his eyes. “Have we met before?”

The old man froze mid step and swivelled to look at the demon, aghast.

But the most startled one was the newest prisoner. “Holy shit! You know English!?”