2 Story

Fredrick Glass - "The arcanaum had a way of filling the underbelly of society. It had been around for only a few decades, yet it had put its fingers into every part of society. By the time The Darkened One was marching to Nelastra, it was a decisive force. Fortunately, Saint Jericho took care of them before Nelastra's fall."

Hmmm, I suppose starting elsewhere may illuminate more of our story. Elaborating on why we killed the king may give you a breadth of understanding you’ve yet to attain despite the sharpness with which you’ve listened. Introductions are in order. My name is Jack Donovan, and I’ve been traveling all of Alta in search of a few pieces left over by Gaia. Our world worships her, yet I know of her darker origins. I know of the remnants she left behind.

These monolithic slabs brimming with souls corrupt the creatures and earth near them. They’ve warped this world, so after they warped my own life into a gnarled bunch of barbs, I aimed to destroy them. My story seems simple at first glance, yet the path I followed involved many twists and turns, like a winding road through a calm countryside.

The events became convoluted after I met a parasite named Deluge, though parasite may be the wrong term. He’s more of another mind who shares my body. He is my closest friend, and yes, I would normally never tell another person that I’m friends with a voice in my head.

He’s given me the tools I need for accomplishing my lofty goal, and with his influence, I have persevered through trials that would rip the limbs from my shoulders and melt the skin from my body. With a group of other like minded individuals, I went on a journey across our world in search of these remnants. It was during these travels that I realized a great truth of this world.

Everything I understand was a lingering lie.

My past mentor, corrupted by priests of the church, died by my hand after a harrowing battle. These scientists were pawns of the palisade, the pinnacle authority of the church. Even with the assistance of Deluge, I couldn’t save my mentor, yet her death fueled a fire burning in my soul. Since my stay at the university of Mareovosa, a menacing wrath had grown in my chest. With these half hidden coals heating my fury, I went through a journey towards Nelastra, the capital of the empire, in search of the three remnants rumored to be there.

Despite the bizarre nature of my quest, there were those who followed me on the odyssey, though they were equally outlandish. The titanic golem I mentioned before was with me from the start, and since he once lived as a tree that pierced the clouds, I named him Aether, meaning upper air. Even with his near impractical kindness, he was a strong, amiable ally, and I enjoyed learning about his life.

The queen of razors also walked, well, floated with us. Her methodical and motherly approach gave a fresh perspective for my young mind, and her overwhelming capacity for carnage made for a useful bargaining chip in a pinch. She left her colony to help me, but I never really understood her intentions, even now.

This left two others who went on the journey with me, Sophia and Joan. Sophia joined us with a resolve matching my own as she lost all she had ever known. Joan, the love of my short, somewhat shitty life, carried a white mark streaking across the tan complexion of her face, and using that scar, she wielded powers matching my own. Well, mostly.

She lacked the enduring stamina of my own abilities, but Joan was a capable member, and Sophia’s knowledge proved more than valuable in countless instances. Even with these allies, we spoke little as no member owned social skills worth noting, besides Deluge’s scathing wit which was the voice in my head.

The first few days of our departure from Mareovosa passed with the slow drawl of a lazy sunday. Like cats lounging in the sun, we walked without any real urgency. This ended after we paced into the first village we came across, Dresdel.

I say we, but only Joan, Sophia, and I entered into the village since Aether and Razor would evoke a panic. The rare and costly amor I wore, hydra skin, garnered more than a few strange glances by itself. By the time we reached into the town’s central pub, many of the townsfolk talked of a traveling assassin surrounded by two hostages. It was a gritty greeting, uncomfortable as swallowing sand.

However, since I was otherwise known as The Darkened One, being hailed as an assassin proved useful in more ways than one. Using this disguise, we each attempted collecting information from those who stayed at the inn.

With her white hair and scar like lightning down her face, Joan garnered attention as a passing royal gemchainer. Gemchaining equated to the highest form of combat on the continent of Alta, and since Joan had been a chainer before, she could play the part without making any meaninful mistakes. On the other hand, I struggled with my disguise. Jack, the dark, dangerous murderer didn’t particularly suit me. The perfect example presented itself when I spoke with the head craftsmen of the village.

After my initial analysis, I’d walked across the cobblestone road leading to the stone arch over his quaint, bricky home. Hard taps of heel on stone rose all around my ears while the warm stone welcomed my feet. Ivy grew on the left side of the house while a balcony adorned the right, each with their own set of pottery embellishing the windows present on both sides. With the sun overhead, a sheen of yellow glossed over the entire scene, and I couldn’t help but wish for a similar home of my own one day. Like a grandmother’s embrace, the house healed not as a shelter, but as a home.

After giving the front door a few light taps, a man with a gray beard and kind eyes walked out the entrance. His well worn hands carries the scars of his craft. Unlike many elders, he breathed and moved without struggling. If anything, he matched the vigor of a child as he glanced up at me with a knowing glance before he said with a curt refusal, “I ain’t gonna give you nothin tah murder anybody with.”

Right as he slammed the door, I caught the edge of the frame before I leaned until our eyes met. The light gray of my skin shocked him like an eldritch eel, yet after he heard my voice, a piece of him gentled,

“Rather than tools for murder, I aim for tools more suited to my talents. Would you happen to own a violin or harp, preferably one with durable strings?”

After he looked me over once more, he bursted into laughter before he said with his husky voice smiling, “I half expected yah to kill me when yah stopped the door from closin. How about a glass of tea as an apology?”

With a genuine grin tracing my lips, I said, “I’ll have to accept, if only for the charming company.”

“There’s a seat over there. Make yourself comfortable.”

I nodded before I walked past innumerable tools and trinkets lining a desk at the side of his room. Since my weight could crush a wooden chair, I denied his offer. I sat upon the stone edging of his fireplace, content with the pleasant heat of fire warming my back. After he set a kettle of water over the iron roofing of his fireplace, the man said,

“My name’s Alfred. What’s your’s?”

Taking a risk, I said my real name, “Jack Donovan. I’m a roaming musician who’s had his instrument stolen while on my way to Nelastra.”

He nodded before he said, “Aye, the roads ain’t safe anymore. I heard that even Mareovosa had been overrun. It’s a damn shame.”

Mareovosa had been the center of education for the empire before the palisade purged it due to my presence there. The situation ended in the death of many students before I destroyed the abominations the palisade had created. The reminder left a bad, bitter taste like sloshing cod oil in my mouth. With these memories flashing in my mind, I winced before I said,

“It is. Any news about what happened there?”

Alfred shrugged before resting on his rocking chair, sitting smoother than a cat’s landing. After lighting a pipe of tobacco, he said, “Not much. The only news we heard was about a so called demon that there callin The Darkened One. Even the oracle made a prediction, or so they say.”

I said, “Sounds like the world’s crumbling.” before I added, “When I camped with a merchant on my way here, he told me that the church is setting a crusade against that monster.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow before he said, “A crusade? We haven’t had one of those in over three hundred years. Them’s was dark times accordin to history. Even the plagues weren’t as bad as that.”

I nodded my head in agreeance before he opened a pot on the edge of the stool beside him. He grabbed a generous portion of brown leaves from the basin before he placed them into the kettle. After stirring the brew with a wooden spoon, he placed the kettle’s cap over the pot and sighed. Placing the spoon on the stool, he said,

“You look pretty young lad. It’s hard tah see someone like you talkin about the grimmer parts of the empire. I half expected yah tah mention how the slave trades been doin well here recently.”

I placed a hand on my chin before I leaned onto my knees and said, “Really now?”

He grimaced before he said, “There’s been way less golems than normal in the market. They used tah be right rare, but now there nearly as expensive as a dozen homes. There good for a 100 years of hard labor usually, so they drive the price of slaves way down. Without them, there’s nothing stopping the nobles from enslaving more people.”

“Slaves are usually in demand right before summer, but they shouldn’t be ballooning too much?”

He leaned towards me before he said, “You didn’t hear this from me, but I heard the arcanum is helpin cause it.”

I pursed my lips before I said, “Who are they?”

The old man grinned before he said, “Either you’re a good liar or you really are a roamin musician, mister Donovan. The arcanum are a...well a underground society of sorts. They control a large part of the black market for all things illegal. You’d be wise to stay away from them.”

I nodded before the side of my neck flexed off impulse. I’d dealt with the arcanum before, though I didn’t know it at the time of doing so. They kidnapped students and indoctrinated them before forcing them into the bodies of golems. It’s a dark and forbidden form of soul forging, but the results are inarguable.

Since a more developed mind produces a more powerful golem, human souls match high tier monster’s in quality. A human spirit creates an unbreakable seal with near infinite energy to draw from, but doing so makes slavery look like charity by comparison. The indoctrination process inflicts a cumbersome amount of pain on the individual, and being trapped in a cold, unfeeling body for eternity sends chills down the spine of even hardened veterans.

So the arcanum had caused a fair amount of turmoil in my life, and destroying them would bring me a deep sense of satisfaction. Gathering the remnants of Gaia took priority however, so I replied after the moment of thought,

“I’ll keep away from them. They sound shady at best and evil at worst. Thank you for enlightening me as to who they are.”

He shook his head before he said, “You already know who they are. I can tell.”

My stomach sunk for a moment before he raised a palm towards me while saying, “Now, now. I don’t mean no trouble by sayin that. I just wanted you to know you ain’t that good at hidin your involvement.”

“Was it that obvious?”

With a spark of life in his eyes, he grinned in response while saying, “An old man has his ways of knowin. What matters is what you intend to do to them.”

The genial atmosphere changed in an instant as I gazed towards the fire behind me. My eyes closed to slits while my large hands clasped into fists harder than stone and heavy as a hailstorm. With a confident and knowing voice, I say,

“I aim to end them.”

The old man froze in place before the kettle on the iron squealed. Alfred jumped in his seat before he scrambled for two clay cups and struggled despite the ease of his actions before. After he poured two glasses of the steaming liquid, he sat in his chair, saturating in silence.

With a sincere guilt, I said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shared that. It is not your burden to bear.”

Alfred shook his head, ruffling his long gray beard. He sighed before he said, “It ain’t your fault son. I done pried where I shouldn’t have. I just never expected you to be so fierce. It’s like you got two faces.”

I fought off a grin before I said, “You may just be right.”

I downed the tea in an instant before I turned towards him and said, “I’d love to sit here and chat more, but I wouldn’t want to frighten you any further.”

He stood before he said, “You came for an instrument, right? I got me some in the back if you wouldn’t mind waitin while I get em. I’ll even give yah a discount on account of my rudeness. What do yah say?”

Even though I already revealed more than I intended, Alfred desired a jovial departure, so I gave in and said, “Alright, I’ll see what you have.”

A smile, large and inviting, bloomed on his face before he walked towards the back of his store. Few things equal the delight of the elderly, so I waited with a patient surveyance of my surroundings. My eyes saw more than they expected.

The tools dawning the walls carried a grand level of detail, but tiny pieces on each of the tools carried hooks or pointed edges that seemed unremarkable at first glance. After inspecting closer, I noticed how each of the tools would prove deadly if used with these sharpened edges in mind.

He had hammers with claws honed to a razor’s edge. Monocles with piano wire as the base of the string that drapes across the shoulder. He even owned a pair of gloves with a slit-like pouch underneath the palm. A thin, handleless dagger could fit in there without any struggle, ready and primed for piercing an unsuspecting victim’s neck.

Just as I came to this realization, I heard the creaking of wood behind me. As I turned, a seven inch dagger plunged into my side before Alfred’s face came into view. Instead of the affable smile of before, a savage grimace lined his face, red with several veins bulging from his thin neck.

This old man had been a producer of assassin's tools for the arcanum. The entire time I had believed his facade while clawing for information about anything of value. Instead, he gleaned the information he needed from me while giving the impression of a worried old man. I’d been fooled.

My guts turned to water as my insides ruptured before leaking blood swelled inside my throat and rushed out my mouth. The man removed the dagger before he lifted his left arm upwards while tossing the dagger upwards with his right. The moment he began pulling his left hand downwards, he caught the dagger in the hand.

The fluid motion resulted in him digging the blade into the side of my neck before a second had passed. He anticipated my death from such an able assassination, but he failed to understand the gravity of his situation.

The short saber pierced straight through the carotid artery of my neck, and the suffering almost blinded me. Like liquid fire flaming up my neck, I grit my teeth as I ailed, yet I smiled. I jerked a hand outwards while wrapping my fingers around his neck, careful not to break him before I learned anything.

He no longer disguised his surprise as the blood leaking from my mouth crawled back up my chin and into my maw. The wound on my side already regenerated, and as I pulled the dagger from my neck, I laughed with a callous cruelty.

I pulled him close as I said, “Who do you believe I am?”

His face contorted in confusion as he squinted his eyes towards me for a moment before they widened with awareness. The merciless glance of before shattered as all his composure crumbled like ash. Color drained from his face as he whispered,

“Y-you are...The Darkened One?”

Lifting an arm beside his face, a spike, soaked in blood and my misery, grew from the center of my palm. My eyes opened wide as I said,

“Apt, aren’t you?”

I pressed the spike into the side of his cheek before the dagger stabbed through his lips. The wet drip of blood on my hand and the shivering of his skin ignited my hunger. With the strength of one finger, I pressed the bottom of his jaw closed, preventing any screams. Panic and frenzy fell onto his features as he squirmed in my hand, but I held with the embrace of an iron maiden. I allowed no hope for him. It would be better if he gave in quickly.

After removing the spike, I grinned with a near gleeful radiance before I said, “You will tell me what you know before you die. It is in your hands to decide how excruciating your death will be.”

Before I allowed him to reply, worms covered in my skin crawled out of my face as I said, “I promise you, it will be altogether unique.”