Flip your coin and make your choice, but know there is no justice in this farce.

Roxanne Martin - the Oracle - At her trial for Clucker’s slaughter.

____

Silas released a deep breath, but his body only tensed further. “What do you mean?” he asked.

The dark blue shaerd’s eyes glimmered. “Is there naught strange about your friend? No drastic oddities in behaviour?”

“What is it?” Silas replied, answering the question with another question.

The other shaerds shifted uneasily, and the dark blue shaerd beckoned Silas over. “Come with me, and I shall answer you verily. It would not do to reveal my knowledge in public.”

This brought a sneer to the Duellist’s lips. How dumb did they think he was to follow them like a blind bat? “I don’t think so.”

“Then your friend will remain a prisoner here even as vermin assault it with waxing ferocity. I trust you not to desert your friend like that,” fired back the shaerd.

Silas growled and his muscles bunched, readying to spring. Although it was bound to be a tough fight, he believed he could win and besides, the risk was entirely worth it if it would free Ethan from whatever curse they had placed on him.

“Calm, calm,” the shaerd rushed out, waving its hands to mollify him once more. “I am but another who shares your predicament. Just as you require my aid, so too do I require yours as I also have someone who I wish to be freed. All of us here do.” Although its words were doused with grief, they were spoken without hesitation.

Silas narrowed his eyes and stared a long moment at the shaerd. It was certainly a plausible story, but who was to say whether this alien was speaking the truth? They could just as well lead him into a trap. He needed to speak to someone who knew this settlement better before he made a decision. “Let me first speak to my friends. I assume they’ll be here soon.”

“If you refer to any residents of Valrun’s Keep, I cannot allow that,” the shaerd replied hastily. “I implore you to trust me when I say that every human here is affected by his sorcery. I admit, I do not know the extent of his abilities, but even the slightest possibility that he learns of my plans through your questioning is too much to bear. If you still wish to continue with that line of thought, know that your decision could cost you your friend inside this house.”

Of course, that was the case… Silas cursed and chewed at his lip, wondering whether this was an elaborate ploy or a fate-given opportunity. He would be a fool to go along with it given how little information he had, but what if his lack of participation caused Ethan’s condition to worsen? Surely the situation wasn’t that dire, Silas thought, and yet as he remembered the state of the residents here and the war-torn streets, he realised perhaps it was just as bad as he imagined it to be. Maybe he could knock Ethan out and haul him away before the ratkin attacked again, but even then, he had the feeling that there would be lasting issues with that solution. If this was a fate-given opportunity, he would have to charge in headlong and salvage what he could like he had done with the tutorial. Closing his eyes, he made a leap of faith and prayed it was the right one.

Petting Bandit once again, he whispered to it. “Remember what I said: keep Ethan safe no matter what.” He turned to the shaerd and nodded. “Alright then, lead on. I’ll give you my trust for now.”

“I could ask for naught more,” the shaerd said. The party moved hastily but orderly, marching through the wide, reeking streets of Valrun’s keep until they came to a largely nondescript building. It was made of the same cream-coloured stone as everything else, with just as many tracks of war marking its walls. It was also typical in its design, and only its large size made it appear distinct in any fashion.

Silas followed his host through the doorway, his muscles tensing as he neared them. Fortunately, however, they didn’t try anything towards him and instead showed him into an airy room. He took the offered seat and waited warily.

The dark blue shaerd took the seat opposite and gestured for the others to take positions around the house to keep guard. “Let me first introduce myself, I am Clio, one of Tiafel lineage and long-time companion of Princess Amara, that of D’Aegor lineage. It is truly fortunate that you chanced upon Valrun’s Keep as we are currently in a dire situation facing a wicked threat.”

“From what I heard, it sounds like you dug yourself into this situation by holing up inside your fort when the ratkin attacked and razed the village,” Silas replied venomously, recalling how Ethan had been injured in the first place.

Clio nodded in admission while her mouth curved humourlessly. “The vermin are a threat, no doubt, but the vile imp I speak of is none other than one of our own, although I wish it were not the case. He is Nicon, one of no notable lineage and a cracked with no honour or pride.”

“Cracked?”

“One of broken skin,” Clio answered, lifting her hand and showing her smooth, hairless skin. “The Knowing Spirit determines them unworthy on birth and disables their bodies from absorbing mana. They spend their lives in servitude, hoping good behaviour will earn them enough grace to be judged better next time, but this Nicon has instead willingly sunk further than even the basest of beasts.” Clio’s lips closed, and she appeared to consider her next words. “From our best estimations, it would seem the Knowing Spirit bestowed upon him arcane powers during the Apocalypse. Why it did so, I cannot even begin to fathom, but either way it is evidently a weak power with little effect on the worthy. At least, it should be, but somehow he has taken Amara captive as well.” Clio’s voice cracked during the last sentence as the shaerd’s expression morphed to one of distress.

Silas blinked in concentration as he tried to keep up with the narrative. Something about a peasant gaining a dominant class and abusing its powers. From what he gathered, it sounded like they had a caste system that they kept to their entire lives, only that this Nicon had used the Apocalypse to rise above his station just like Silas had. Still, the Duellist had no sympathy for this shaerd when he held Ethan captive. “So if you know this guy is controlling your princess, why haven’t you killed him already?”

Clio burst into harsh laughter, and Silas grew red-faced. He was about to speak again, this time with more heat, but Clio spoke first. “It is not so simple as you suggest. You see, the cracked are treated the way they are because of their weak skin. They are too vulnerable to do any task other than the most menial: even a drakling burp could scorch them to the ground. But as you go up our society, the magic-resistance of our skin increases, and this is how we know who the Knowing Spirit has chosen to be our rulers as their skin is the rarest and most powerful. If one were to control Amara the way she is currently being controlled, it would have to be through sorcery but even that should—”

“— be impossible, is that it? Well then, just acknowledge Nicon has done the impossible and kill him,” Silas interrupted, snarling somewhat.

“Whatever sorcery Nicon is employing, it only affects the other cracked and you humans because of your shared lack of arcane defence. For it to affect Amara is to admit a princess is weak enough to fall where pinks and blues can resist, and that itself is incomprehensible,” Clio replied.

“But you bloody know it’s happened all the same, so act on it,” Silas said, growing further frustrated. His mood had soured after her mocking laughter, and it didn’t help now that Clio was acting so difficult about a simple matter. So many things had changed with the System’s arrival that there was no point clinging to the past; you just had to adapt to the current reality and roll with the punches.

“You are right - I acknowledge it - and if it was in my power, I would have had the imp quartered at first notice. But alas, I am unable to do so when the others consider it a disgrace to even entertain the notion that a cracked with magic has overpowered Amara. They would rather believe that she is acting of her own accord, no matter how senseless and inconsistent her actions may be, and that her fondness for Nicon is nothing more than Her Highness taking a cracked as a temporary cicisbeo.” Clio frowned severely. “Although unusual, it is not unheard of for nobility and, occasionally, even royalty to experiment with such toys. Either way, what matters is our party is naught pitched against theirs, and that is before considering Laerdya, one of Elrond lineage and Her Highness’s Royal Protector.”

The name hooked the Duellist out from his pooling frustration. He thought it sounded familiar, although he had no idea where he could have heard such an unusual name. Clio continued speaking, but he was no longer listening, instead digging through his memories, searching for the answer. It came in a flash and his eyes widened with shock as a faint wave of dread settled over him. “What did you say the protector’s name was?”

Clio gave him a bemused look. “Her Royal Protector is Laerdya, one of Elrond lineage.”

Class: Duellist - level 9

Quests: Duel Laerdya Elrond (F-1), Duel Floyd Godson (F-1), Duel Ish Shadowhand (F-2)

Activities: Solo kill E-5s, Solo kill F-1s, Solo kill F-2s

Abilities: Weakness Vision, Harrying Blows (next ability available at level 10)

____

The Knowing Spirit is whom the Shaerd consider their God. It is said to manifest only once in a person’s life: when you die and it comes to judge you, deciding upon your fate for your next life. As skin colour correlates with magic resistance, they consider this the best sign of fate, and therefore an apt compass on how to treat one another. At the bottom are the browns (cracked) who are deemed near worthless, spending their lives in menial labour in the hope of being reborn better next time. At the top are the purples (royalty) who rule the Shaerd’s core cities with every privilege granted to them.

For what the Shaerd call the Male Sin, the Knowing Spirit judges males more critically, causing them to be distributed lower down the skin scale with their highest skin colour only being blue (nobility). In addition to this, males also tend to be physically smaller and weaker, leading to a completely matriarchal society where male Shaerd have fewer rights and freedoms.

Suko Ryo - Interspeciel Expert - Humanity and the Other Races