Riloth 19th the 648th

Trish reassured Levar that he could examine it, Bearskin volunteered his own weapon for inspection, and I extended the same permission for him to examine you. Levar nearly fainted.

Daulf had a lot of questions, mainly around the various criminal activities I’d witnessed. He was greatly concerned about the state of Knollwood’s inhabitants and how we might save them before all this ended.

“Those people were likely an offering to the demon once summoned, not sacrifices to complete the summoning. They will almost certainly be alive at the beginning of the reset, since the demon does not appear until it begins,” he explained.

I hadn’t known that about the ritual, and it was a relief and a burden to know that they could be saved.

"I want to help them, but I don't know what we could do, short of teleporting the fifty odd miles between here and there."

"Can you do that now too?" Trish asked.

"No. Not yet at least."

Bearskin asked, “Dagmar. Can we join the Hardune?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she answered. “We’d need to find an oathstone. There are only a few and they are far from here, and that's not something I could recreate.”

"Have you figured out the exact mechanism by which unattended items disintegrate?" Levar asked.

'No," I answered with regret, "but I have some theories."

A collective groan broke out as Dagmar, Trish, and Roland made excuses to be elsewhere as Levar and I spoke. Daulf and Bearskin waited, but eventually Bearskin wandered outside to perform his daily exercises.

Daulf sat patiently—now on a makeshift chair, my Force Disks having long since disappeared—for nearly twenty minutes before I sensed he was not going to leave.

Better rip the bandage off.

"Levar, I don't want to interrupt," I said, cutting him off as he started on a new tangent "but maybe you should go gather some items from outside while we still have daylight. We can use them as test subjects."

"You're right! We have a whole forest of potential specimens. I will gather a wide variety of samples. Should I diversify by Font, or elements?"

"Do whatever you think is best," I suggested.

"Alright. I'm off," he said, full of excitement. He added in a whisper,, "By the way, I think Daulf wants to speak with you."

Levar left, leaving Daulf and I standing silently.

After a few awkward moments, Daulf said, "So..."

"So..." I repeated, letting it linger. “You know the truth.”

“I know the truth. I always knew the truth.”

“What are—wait,” I caught myself, processing the words. “You always knew the truth? What does that mean.”

“It means,” Daulf said with a smile, “that you are not as good of a liar as your friend Trish, and your half truths ring like lies to a practiced ear. After a few decades of magically sensing the truth, you gain the knack to pick up lies the old fashioned way.”

“So why didn’t you kill me? Why am I not a captive?” I asked, still in a state of disbelief.

“Tal, it is Tal right? Not Theral?”

I nodded and he continued, “Tal, I’m hurt that you would even ask. What have I ever done that would make you think I would act in such a manner? I understand your hesitance and reluctance when we first met, but you should know that I knew you for what you were even then.”

“So why did you help me?” I asked.

“Why does anyone help anyone?” he asked rhetorically. “Because it was the right thing to do. I will not deny that I have killed sorcerers, more than I can count if I am being honest. But, since I have pledged myself to Illunia’s service, I have not slain anyone who did not deserve it, and even then only when it can’t be avoided.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it.

“Nothing,” I finally answered. “You’ve done nothing to make me think you would turn on me. But, I worried. At first I was scared, but as we traveled together, I began to forget my fears. The fear that who you appeared to be was a facade. Fanos... he seemed kind, but he did not hesitate to kill me when I approached without ill intent.”

“Yes,” Daulf said sadly. “Fanos. I’d hoped he could be persuaded otherwise but he is dedicated to the ‘cause.’ I hope that one day he might see the truth.”

“What truth is that?”

“The truth that not all sorcerers are evil. The Tower claims to only pursue dragon-blooded sorcerers, but they are not so scrupulous in their collections. They will take any sorcerer they come across—if they can get away with it. They no longer only seek those who are corrupted by Faust’s power.”

“But why?”

“Why else? For power. Magical creatures are valuable and rare, and sorcerers are powerful and abundant. Magic, potions, Will enhancement,” he listed with an expression of disgust, “the Tower uses these things to empower themselves. The large-scale threat of dragon-blooded sorcerers ended a hundred years ago. At first, they used the bodies of sorcerers to enhance themselves, and make up for their smaller numbers. The dragons could enter a town and create hundreds of magical followers, while each wizard took decades to train. When the threat was ended, the Tower persisted in their hunts, and fostered tales of the dangers of sorcerers to keep people afraid. I suspect they are even responsible for some of the cheap books you seem to enjoy.”

“I can understand that, but if you knew I was dragon-blooded, how did you know I wasn’t corrupted?” I asked.

“I know something of the ship clans. At first, I truly believed you to be one of them. I sensed your heritage the moment I saw you, but knew the Stormcallers had ways to protect against Faust. Did you know that out at sea, the corrupting power is gone? That on the far side of the mountains that hold back the oceans, it is weaker? Something about these lands turn the hearts of the vulnerable. I suppose we know why now, thanks to Dagmar. The evil is not in the blood, but in the trapped Avatar.”

He paused to recenter himself, realizing that he’d gotten a little off track.

“I could sense that you were dragon-blooded and free of corruption. It was only much later that I realized you had no talisman to ward against the evil. I will admit, I was quite confused. I still am, but I know you to have a brave and honest heart, and I trust that Illunia put me in your path for a reason.”

So many questions. Always questions.

“How do you know all this?” I asked. “My blood, corruption, any of it?”

“I smell it,” he said, tweaking his nose with his thumb. “Illunia has gifted me with a magical sense to detect magical scents. I can’t turn it off, which is often unfortunate around Igram’s Blessed, and it doesn’t tell me what the scents mean, but I’ve been around long enough to differentiate.”

“What do I smell like?”

“You—”” he paused to consider his words, “are odd. I sense the dragon blood, but no corruption—before you ask, I don’t have an explanation for that. But still, there's more. When we first met, you had the smell of a salty sea breeze, typical to Riloth’s Blessed, but now that scent is almost gone, replaced partially with the familiar scent of clay. The sign of Illunia’s Blessed.”

“Clay?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Not paper, or books?”

“No, Illunia is the mother of all, the goddess of knowledge, and predates those things. Clay embodies her ethos nicely. She formed the races out of clay, before breathing life into them with her siblings' aid. Early men drew pictures on their clayware, and eventually the first words were written in the stuff.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” I said. “I’ll take your word for the Blessing, but how is that odd?”

“The mingling of Riloth and Illunia’s Blessings is not odd, no. They do this often. They were companions here on Kaltis, and are companions today in the Celestial Realm. The pair often meddle in each other's affairs. No, the odd thing is the sense, not scent, I get near you if I focus in a quiet moment. I noticed it the night we slept in the medical tent. It’s like a door to the Arcane Realm. Distantly, I could sense its power through you, but it was unfocused. The only other time I’ve sensed something like this, before or since, is Bearskin.”

“Bearskin?” I asked, unable to help it.

“Yes. You felt like a door to the Arcane Realm, but he feels like a door to power. Through him, I can feel the power of the Font he and his people are connected to.”

“Wait, you keep saying ‘felt.’ What do you mean?”

“I say felt, because you now feel different,” he answered cryptically.

Daulf closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

He spoke with eyes still shut, “You feel like something in between. I still sense the Arcane Realm through you, but now it is overshadowed by something else. Not as strong as Bearskin’s power, but something akin to it. Bearskin’s Font feels like connections, friendship, and... sticky. Yours feels light, fresh, but chaotic.“

“What does that mean?”

“Fauell if I know,” he said, turning up his hands and spreading them wide.

“One last question, I think. Why did you give me Spell—the spellbook?”

“Oh, yes. I’m not sure. I knew it to be an ensouled artifact, and it just felt... right.”

“It felt right? It didn’t smell right?”

Daulf chuckled, “Oh no, nothing as certain as that. Sometimes I get intuitions, gut feelings if you will. I don’t know if they are from Illunia, or from gas, but I tend to regret it when I don’t trust them.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?” he asked, a little confused.

“I don’t know. Everything. I want you to know, you told me about your son during one of the resets where you saved my life. You didn’t say much, but I thought you should know. I wrote it down. I’ll let you read it some time.” I gestured with you towards him.

“No need,” he said, waving you away. “I will tell you the full tale soon enough. You deserve to know.”