Amdirlain’s PoV - City of Brass - Outer ring assassin’s guild outpost

Stepping past the Efreeti at the door, they entered a short corridor, closed at the end by a silver privacy curtain glowing from the constant heat. Waves of it brushed against them from the walls, the clinging darkness still providing no relief. Though Amdirlain was immune to the temperature, it didn’t stop her from sensing it, and part of her longed for a cool drink. The faintness of that longing caught Amdirlain by surprise; momentarily distracted, she wondered how much she’d lost.

The chiming of the beads being brushed aside by Sarah brought her back to herself, and Amdirlain strode forward to catch up. Though the curtain of metallic beads seemed ready to paint her skin with molten silver, it let her through without incident.

The chamber within was yet another choke point, allowing a serpentine passage between cage walls made of obsidian with similar enchantments to those in the walls. Behind a solid barrier at the very end of the path, a single light source sent a humanoid shadow pooling out into the passage. Though barely brighter than a candle, it seemed like a halogen spotlight in the darkness.

When they reached the barrier, they found a small gap in the grillwork, giving the impression of a cashier counter. The Elf behind the counter was the tallest Amdirlain had seen at nearly two and a half metres tall, with long thin limbs. The enchantments and spells about him made it clear he was both not a native and protecting himself from the heat. His skin was chalk white, with russet-coloured hair in loose curls barely reaching beneath his ears. Clad in dark loose pants and a shirt of a cotton-like material, there wasn’t any sweat on his exposed skin.

The way the Efreeti on the door had spoken, Amdirlain had expected a slave, but all the themes in the enchantments and spells over him matched his song, and nothing bound him to the place. He barely glanced up as they approach, and Amdirlain could hear the vicious contingencies in his protections—dimensional magics paired with pure chaos to rip an attacker apart. The enchantments that wreathed the bracers winding around his forearms helped to focus the force.

“Registration,” grumbled Sarah, thrusting the metal plate towards him.

[Name: Feindil Truthkissed

Species: Luna Elf

Class: Wizard / Sage / Artificer / Alchemist

Level: 68 / 75 / 71/ 75

Health: 3,179

Defence: 144

Magic: 289

Mana: 165,886

Melee Attack Power: 528

Combat Skills: Short Blades [M] (72) - Various affinities and Spell lists.

Details: After upsetting multiple imperial family members, he has been studying numerous elemental cultures on a planar jaunt for his continued health. After an extended period in the City of Glass within the Plane of Water, he’s come to the polar opposite ahead of his offended patrons' searchers.]

“It says your names are Soztag and Alinus, correct?”

Sarah tapped her chest. “Soztag.”

“Have you checked the rest of the details on there? The clerks don’t always record the details properly, and while it doesn’t matter for the auditors' department records, it will impact the work you get offered,” cautioned Feindil.

“We’d been warned, so I watched to ensure he got every sigil right,” advised Sarah.

“Did they also warn you that entry-level members don’t make a lot of gems until they’ve proved themselves?” asked Feindil.

“Yes,” hissed Sarah.

Feindil gave a tight-lipped smile. “Good, so I won’t have to clean the floor.”

Ignoring the implied threat, Amdirlain motioned to the grillwork. “Why the security?” asked Amdirlain. “I thought the assassin’s guild is legal here.”

“It is, but occasionally the unhappy relatives of a guild’s client come through to file protests; it's another reason the floor needs cleaning.”

“Clients’ relatives get upset?”

“A common misunderstanding with new members. The guild’s client needs a swift death delivered while a guild’s petitioner requests said delivery,” clarified Feindil. “The auditors don’t like the clients being called targets if they ever speak to you about a job.”

“What about the interior ministry? Do they ask about jobs?”

Feindil's gaze widened, and he quickly shoved the metal plate under the counter. “No, and you’d best hope you never come to their attention. Ensure you don’t mention them further—they hear things.”

The reference she’d seen in Wasmaaa’s details suddenly became much more interesting than Amdirlain had expected.

His hand paused beneath the counter, and Amdirlain heard an enchantment buzzing away. When Feindil drew his hand forth, he nodded at Sarah and set down a bloodstone; motioning to Amdirlain, he released a second. “Membership tokens. The first is free, but lose it, and you owe the guild four jobs—the fee for which the guild keeps.”

“The fees from the next four jobs?” asked Sarah.

The question drew a hard smile from Feindil. “No, the guild decides what jobs contribute to the fee. You’ll be told when the fee is theirs, and refusing the job means you’re the guilds’ debt slave.”

“Don’t lose the token,” murmured Amdirlain, eyeing the black gemstone with red veins on the counter.

The colouration of it weighed on her mind, balanced against the pendant the plinth had gifted her. Amdirlain didn’t need to push with Precognition to feel the chasm she’d step up to and the depth of disaster that could lay ahead. The suggestion of using a Class Amdirlain already had seemed so logical for Sarah—with her now having the same regard for the law Farhad had once possessed—but for Amdirlain it could spell disaster, and she scrambled for a way to turn her path and still achieve her goal here.

“The Efreeti with the broken horn will have a work assignment for you. You’ll have to complete it to confirm your membership,” declared Feindil.

Amdirlain raised an eyebrow. “Does he have a name we should use when addressing him?”

“He’s the novice master of this post until you’ve proven your worth to the guild; address him as Sayidi,” replied Feindil, motioning to the door.

Polyglot translated the word’s meaning as my lord, and the connotations decided things for Amdirlain—she would not risk being under another’s command. Amdirlain set to work, the first theme concealing the usual creation glow from everyone. With that in place, Amdirlain pushed hard and kept the songs silent even as she spoke. Despite her words to Sarah, she'd focused on Torm’s capture and had almost risked losing herself.

“I’d like to enquire if it's possible to petition the guild for a particular job,” stated Amdirlain.

“Really?” sighed Sarah.

“Petition us for what?” snapped Feindil, his tone acidic with suspicion.

“Whether someone can perform a delivery job. The issue is, I don’t have the recipient's name, but I can tell you about the petitions they requested the guild to undertake. So I'd like the guild to identify them from its records and deliver my gift the next time they hire the guild.”

"Something poisonous or explosive, perhaps?" probed Feindil.

"Not at all. They helped me in the past, but I can't contact them. If I had other options to get in touch, I wouldn’t have approached the guild. However, honour demands I repay the debt," clarified Amdirlain. “I’m sure the grand Efreeti guild masters can understand undertaking something they are bound to do. Besides this gift to consider my unusual request, I would provide a considerable fee for privacy and completion of the delivery.”

[Diplomacy [J] (22->23)]

Amdirlain held up a hand to clasp the sword she’d been creating in midair. Her touch dispelled the concealment, and a massive falchion appeared in her grip. Along the mithril blade’s length were runes set within the metal, and Amdirlain heard Feindil’s Mana Sense register their existence. The heated air around the blade turned into a mist and, as the cooling vapours wreathed it, the air plunged a score of degrees.

[Crafting Summary (Category: Martial Weapon) - experience by item grade:

Masterwork Great Falchion of Icy Bursts: 18,730 = 500 (base) + 400 (rare material) + 17, 830 (enchantment rating: +3,566 (success))

Total Experience gained: 18,730

Ostimë: +9,365

Ontãlin: +9,365]

Feindil reclaimed the bloodstones and placed them into a container beneath the counter. As they plunged from the bottom of the container, Amdirlain heard the enchantment within them dissolve. The sound was still echoing when he teleported away, and Sarah eyed Amdirlain meaningfully.

“It's not just the result?” murmured Sarah mentally.

Amdirlain nodded. “It's the path you take that matters.”

“It would have pushed your skills up,” grumped Sarah.

“There are other places and ways to do that, and I wouldn’t be killing to benefit an unknown cause,” countered Amdirlain, keeping it a purely mental exchange.

A buzzing Message whispered its content to the young Efreeti at the door. Even as the speaker told him to guard the door and keep others away from the guests in the foyer, he stuck his head through the beaded curtain. One look at the sword glowing in her grip and he slowly backed out again.

“There are beings in the City of Brass that we can help while we’re here—and who deserve such help,” sighed Sarah. “Try to be subtle.”

“There you go, compromise,” laughed Amdirlain, and she rested the sword's tip against the stone floor, the sudden heat shift causing the ground to crack. “But let's see what the meeting brings.”

It was three hours before the inner door opened, and the pair heard the outer guard shoo other visitors on their way several times. Within the outpost, a flurry of steadily stronger songs arrived and departed. Each spent only a few minutes looking at a scrying mirror within the inner chamber, but detection spells sometimes brushed across the waiting pair. The strength of the sword’s enchantment elicited a growing mixture of fear and greed from each new group.

At last, an arrival showed up that didn’t just use the chamber’s facilities, but took command of it completely. Amdirlain heard a trio of Efreeti push all the occupants out a concealed exit, and furnishings were rapidly displaced before a more extensive group arrived. The song from the central figure washed the themes of the rest into a mere background noise that didn’t even collectively match his own.

The clacking of sturdy bolts preceded the inner door swinging open to reveal a massive Efreeti, clad in brass armour, whose song was alive. Stepping to one side, he swept an arm out to beckon them in. “Pitiful mortals, the Ash Prince himself will see you now. Best you explain yourself promptly for disturbing his day.”

The advance guard had pushed aside or tipped workbenches and furnishings over to clear a space in the centre for a seated Efreeti and a score of guards that circled the chamber. The guards were equipped with elaborately enchanted mithril armour, and each stood with a falchion at the ready. A large muscular Efreeti sat on a gem-inlaid brass chair in the centre of the room. His crimson skin contrasted with his minimal black attire, clad only in a waist sash, silken pants, and curl-toed boots; he seemed like a genie from a storybook and was without horns of any size.

[Name: Hatim Ibn al-Razin

Species: Elder Efreeti

Class: Wish Binder / Sword Tyrant / Pyroclast / Inferno

Levels: 97 / 96/ 96/ 94 / 94

Health: 2,982,074

Defence: 8,280

Magic: 4,706

Mana: 28,109,237

Melee Attack Power: 7,032

Combat Skills: Sword-Lord [GM] (72), Flame-Tyrant [GM] (23) - Various affinities, multiple Spell lists

Details: A distant relative of the Grand Sultan, he has achieved his position in the assassin’s guild council through personal power. His title was passed on to him through the death of his predecessor on the council. Unlike typical promotions, it occurred on the sands of the Circus of Pain during a personal duel to settle a dispute between them.]

[Analysis [S] (26->27)]

[Wish Binder

Details: Efreeti-specific Tier 5 Prestige Class gained by combining the evolved base classes Sultan’s Champion and Arcane Blade.]

[Sword Tyrant:

Details: Tier 5 Prestige Class gained by combining the Gladiator and Sultana’s Champion evolved base classes.]

[Pyroclast:

Details: This Tier 5 Prestige Class is gained by combining the evolved base classes Elementalist and Inferno after previously gaining a Prestige Class that included Inferno.]

While the initial Analysis had left questions, the details of the Prestige classes confirmed that the Efreeti also had access to a transformation-type effect that caused the classes to combine into his species.

[Elder Efreeti:

Details: Having compressed their essence three times, even a brand new Elder Efreeti stands high among the Grand Sultan’s servants.

Note: What? Orhêthurin put the effect in place for the dragons, and you’re giving me some serious side-eye for allowing the option to some elemental creatures and outsiders? Few survive the process, and most of these guys kill each other off—they’re literally in cutthroat competition with each other.]

“Why were you trying to join via deception and now offering such a weapon?” asked Hatim.

Amdirlain glanced at the guard that ushered them in. “I’m uncertain of the etiquette; do I address the Prince directly or speak through one of you?”

“You aren’t important enough for me to be bothered with etiquette; address me directly, foreigner,” declared Hatim.

“Your Highness, I was uncertain if what I wanted to achieve was acceptable for someone not in the guild. Others suggested that if I earned enough rank, I might earn the right to enquire within the guild for the information I sought,” explained Amdirlain. “It also had the benefit that I wouldn’t need to pay such a prize.”

“Did you intend all along to betray the guild?”

“Betrayal of the guild wasn’t my intent. If I joined as I had planned, I would have undertaken the work, but standing in the foyer of this modest outpost, I felt it was not the right approach. I considered the time it would take to earn enough status to make such an information request directly, and in doing so, I felt opportunities to repay the debt slipping past.”

“From the details on your record, it doesn’t seem as if you have strength enough to keep that blade,” declared Hatim.

Amdirlain gave a grim smile. “Your Highness, appearances can deceive; the blade exists because I enchanted it. But so far, I’ve proven better at killing than creating.”

Dropping the concealments around the Lady of Butchery, she let her aura out again. Unlike the guard and the scurrying civil servants, Hatim didn’t pale. The honour guard around him clasped their hilts tighter, but Hatim stilled their move to attack.

“The sale of such elemental weapons in the City of Brass is illegal,” advised Hatim.

“Yet, I’m not selling it; it’s a gift of thanks being offered to the guild for considering my enquiry,” observed Amdirlain innocently. “After all, the petitioner isn’t the one to set the price.”

“Very true; present the gift to my guard,” instructed Hatim, and he gestured to the same guard who’d bid them enter.

Amdirlain casually spun the sword, so its tip nearly cut into the floor before she presented the hilt to the indicated Efreeti. Though he eyed her suspiciously, the guard clasped his hand around the hilt while carefully keeping his fingers clear of her spiked gauntlets. As it exchanged hands, the blade’s frost stayed away from the guard’s flesh but cooled the surrounding air. The resonance of the enchantments rippled across the guard’s skin, and Amdirlain saw him frown in surprise at the magical energies.

“Your Highness, its touch is painful; the enchantment must be flawed,” complained the guard.

Hatim's gaze flickered between the blade and the guard. “What do you have to say to that?”

“Your Highness doesn’t need the strongest guards, given your strength. Yet I suggest you need a stronger guard to test it; its enchantment is beyond the reach of some Grand Masters,” rebuffed Amdirlain.

The guard swung the blade with lightning speed, but Amdirlain moved faster. A long step took her inside his reach, and she swept him off his feet. She yanked, keeping her hand coiled around his grasp, and the sword and two fingers came free. The guard’s attempt to lift himself aloft allowed Amdirlain’s kick to drive him into the wall with enough force to fracture the stonework. The sword and the guard’s gauntleted fingers stayed within her grip.

“You need stronger guards to properly wield what I make.”

Not liking the acquisitive expression Hatim directed her way, Amdirlain followed Gail’s approach to let him make a wrong assumption. Stowing the sword, she teleported to the guard and blocked his pitiful attempts to disengage with a speed that was far above his own. Around them, the other guards had barely started repositioning themselves when the skirmish was over. Though she was aware that the Prince’s gaze followed every move she’d made.

Amdirlain’s grip had tightened around the guard’s throat, and she pressed him against the wall. His attempts to break free ended when her hand began to blaze with golden light and the guard’s wound sealed. The Ki’s light fully illuminated the chamber, and the guard's eyes widened in surprise when her touch washed his pain away. With the healing complete, Amdirlain returned to where she’d started.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, Celestial, but the Grand Sultan doesn’t like your kind meddling in his city,” warned Hatim.

“Then best we form an agreement, so I don’t have to linger,” countered Amdirlain, bringing the sword back out in a deceptive, unprepared grip. While the guards relaxed at her stance, the Prince’s posture coiled to leap from the chair.

“Who do you serve?”

“My values,” stated Amdirlain. “Your Highness, might I ask what you were told about my request? It seems strange that your august personage came here to tend to a simple enquiry about whether a petition was permissible, regardless of what gift I offered.”

Hatim scowled. “Why so lavish and dangerous a gift?”

“Lavish?” laughed Amdirlain, and she motioned to the sword with her free hand. “It’s a trinket that is only dangerous in strong enough hands. I hoped it would be enough to catch the attention of this outpost’s supervisor, not to bring someone so esteemed to such a squalid location. Though I’m aware that tales grow in the telling.”

Her words had Hatim tapping on the arm of his chair, and he glanced at the guard next to him. “The exact words you were told.”

The guard cleared his throat and announced in a booming voice. “The guild leader said: a foreign candidate has tried to join, but their deceptive intentions were revealed. They now offer a dangerous prize for a breach of the guild rules.”

“Hopefully, I’ve already cleared up that I voluntarily went from trying to join to enquiring whether a particular petition was permitted. Or did you have further questions there?”

“What was your request before it became distorted in such a fashion?”

“I enquired if a gift could be delivered to an individual whose identity is in the guild’s records. I assured the clerk the object isn’t dangerous; rather, it was intended to thank the individual for past deeds that left me in their debt. I didn’t even ask to be told anything about them. The gift would be enough to prompt the individual to get in touch so I’d know when the job was completed,” explained Amdirlain, and she motioned to the ring of guards. “This seems to have been blown far out of proportion to that enquiry.”

[Diplomacy [J] (23->24)]

“A complex way to get in touch with someone,” commented Hatim.

“Many find debts of honour important,” insisted Amdirlain, and she motioned to the sword again. “This was a gift intended to progress my enquiry with all speed so that I might ensure my debt could be discharged.”

Hatim rhythmically tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm again, and Amdirlain heard his detection spells touch the weapon in her hand.

“Two identical swords with an enchantment of magma or flames would be a suitable gift for my time today,” stated Hatim. “What was the nature of the petitions that were conducted?”

“A series of deliveries to an information broker in The Exchange and hiring him to undertake some work for the petition,” explained Amdirlain.

Hatim nodded. “After the gifts arrive, we can discuss your enquiry and a suitable fee. Come with any further details of the petitions performed for this mysterious individual, though such requests are likely unique enough. How many petitions were there?”

“Over thirty that I’m aware of in the last score of years, all to the same broker, the Satyr Hybris. I’ll need a few hours to arrange the delivery of the swords. When and where should I present them?” asked Amdirlain, not wanting to completely tip her hand.

Her ready acceptance and confidence in her tone caused Hatim to blink. “Deliver them to my palace when the consortium allows darkness to cloak the city again. That should allow you ten hours unless someone encourages them to alter its onset.”

Amdirlain caught his gesture to the guard, who in turn shooed them from the chamber. At the gesture from the guard, Amdirlain bowed deeply to the Prince and left the sword on the ground. Slipping from the chamber, she did so without presenting her back to him.

Only once they were climbing towards street level did Sarah say anything. “Your lessons in diplomacy were showing.”

“Shocking, I can learn,” quipped Amdirlain. “Do you know where the Ash Prince’s palace is located?”

“Nope, but it will be somewhere on the inner rings,” asserted Sarah.

“Who are the consortium?”

“Bunch of wizards,” Sarah replied. “The Grand Sultan has them use ritual magic to cover the city sky in darkness every thirty hours so the Mortal foreigners can get some sleep. Been that way for a few million years since a visiting dignitary made it clear it would be better to let some Mortal foreigners get a restful sleep occasionally.”

When they reached street level, Amdirlain paused in an alcove and masked the creation of the requested swords. She also created a set of old fashion merchant scales from mithril, protected from the heat with a crystal rod concealed within its sturdy base.

“You getting the feeling we’ve walked this road before,” quipped Sarah when they started towards the city’s interior.

“No black cat, so we’re fine,” replied Amdirlain. “Keep an eye out for a guard we can risk annoying for directions—might be bad if we went to the wrong palace.”

Though she made the statement aloud for observers, a melody already gave her a location. Not only had the Prince already returned there, but the wards protecting it were tied to him. It was hard to get more information on him despite the time listening to his song, the strength of power he channelled outstripping her own.