B3 C65: End of a War

Three days passed in Emer’Thalis as Tess continued to lie in bed.

The war, as fiercely as it had raged, was no more. With the threat of death very literally looming above everyone in the form of the archmage, not even the most battle-hungry warrior had the guts to keep at it. When the orders to stand down and retreat were relayed, not a soul resisted.

So it was that when the ice of the archmage’s spell finally began to thaw, an awkward shuffle ensued as two armies, only recently at one another’s throats, pulled back and regrouped. Bodies were collected on both sides, fewer than there could have been, but ultimately more than anyone could stomach. Most were still far too numb and shell-shocked for proper grief, but in their hearts, they knew it would soon follow.

Or perhaps not.

As the two groups separated, a single forest shadow moved through the Antaian army. Even with the recently called ceasefire, her presence was too much for most to bear, especially for those who carried the bodies of those the woman might have killed only minutes before. As she drew closer, suspicious looks gave way to grumbles and then shouts which would have likely transformed into something more violent if given time.

Such matters were promptly forgotten, however, when the first of the carried corpses stiffly jerked to life with a sucking gasp.

And then the second.

And the third.

Unseen by all but Hartha, a sea of souls swelled around her as she directed them one by one back from whence they came. Almost instantly, those same hateful looks gave way to hope as she approached.

With the melting of the archmage’s ice also came a thick layer of water which blanketed the battlefield. Along with a host of vines which churned the earth and returned it to its natural state, the water served to wash away much of the evidence of the recent battle.

At certain spots, from certain angles, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

Of course, though, it had.

For every soul that Hartha had snatched, another had drifted off, out of her reach. For every body that could be brought back, there was another that was too far gone or just outright missing. Emer’Thalis was no stranger to death -- the dungeon was hardly safe, after all -- but that single day would mark more deaths than the city had seen in its entire existence.

If perhaps less important, this was equally true for the city itself. By virtue of being made from stone, the bathhouse had escaped largely unscathed, as had pockets of housing. The trading post was standing but damaged, while the mess hall and the surrounding stalls had been completely razed.

Amidst and in spite of this tension and to no one’s great joy, explanation, negotiation, and reparation talks were hastily scheduled for the following day. Neither party seemed thrilled with such an outcome, but it didn’t escape anyone’s notice how frequently both shadow and human alike kept stealing glances at the sky.

These, however, were the matters of cities. In the coming days, more than one individual would find their world changed in much more profound ways.

Some, in fact, would face battles far more difficult than those they’d just escaped, if perhaps of a different sort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days after the battle and while hidden from sight, Cal stood before a massive, guarded tent which housed only a single person. It was a far cry from what its occupant would be used to, but there was no helping it. Understandably, no one had been too keen on providing the invading army with roofs over their heads, especially given all the housing they’d burned to the ground.

Presently, the remaining troops camped well outside the city. They were scheduled to start their journey home tomorrow, which meant that Cal, for all that she wished to, couldn’t put things off any further.

Fine. Let’s get this over with. Steeling herself, Cal effortlessly slipped past the guards and into the tent, finding the man within agitatedly pacing about. Having no desire to spy for once, she immediately materialized behind him, whispering as gently as she could to avoid startling him too much.

“Hi dad.”

The king whipped about, a hand instinctively going to a sword at his side before his mind caught up.

Rather than complete the motion, he practically pounced on his daughter, wrapping her up in a smothering embrace.

“Calilah! Thank the heavens. I was worried those foul people had done something to you again when they wouldn’t bring you to me.”

For once, Cal found his worry understandable. Negotiations had taken place the day before, and her father had demanded to see her on no fewer than ten occasions. He was fervent in his belief that the shadows were lying when they told him they didn’t know where she was. After all, if she were free, then she would certainly go see her father immediately, wouldn’t she?

The truth was… more complicated.

She’d been at said meeting, albeit while invisible. Partly, she’d been feeling nosy, but also, she wanted to jump in if things started going sideways. Cal probably had more shared knowledge about Ftheran and Emer’Thalis than anyone in attendance, after all.

Thankfully, things had gone smoothly, or at least as smoothly as could be expected under such circumstances.

Tuk had explained that he and the rest of the builders were there of their own volition. A delegation of adventurers had made it clear they were solely there to run the dungeon and had no interest in being a part of any sort of army. Even Verin had made a brief appearance to assure the king that some new “vassal trading post” didn’t signify anything sinister.

Why the damned fools couldn’t have sent a messenger to tell her father that ages ago, she wasn’t sure, but then again, most of the fault lay with her father on this. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t have believed a word they said, too, save for his recent brush-in with the archmage. It was hard to argue that Emer’Thalis had any desire to attack him at this point -- as far as he was aware, they already had someone who could wipe out all of Ftheran in an instant. What need did they have for an army?

If he seemed to be under the impression that Tess was even stronger than the archmage, well, no one saw the need to dissuade him from that view, either.

Still, there was some understandable hesitance at having a free nation-state on Ftheran’s border that was rapidly growing in numbers and strength. After much posturing, shouting, and poorly veiled threatening, an uneasy agreement was reached.

In way of apology, the king would send over more builders and foot the bill for city repairs. As part of the construction plan, however, it was mandated that Emer’Thalis would build some sort of embassy building, which he would provide the architectural plans for. If King Antaiu couldn’t have a say in what the city did, he at least demanded to keep a line of communication open to prevent similar mistakes in the future.

Anything more than that was summarily shut down.

There were great opportunities for both parties if they agreed to a stronger collaboration. Having a nearby trade partner would be a boon to Emer’Thalis, and likewise, the Antaian kingdom could make incredible use of the second-hand access to Sylum’s market. She knew well that her father would want to send some of his troops through the dungeon, too, if he could manage it.

Ultimately, though, the battle -- the deaths -- were too fresh on everyone’s mind. Perhaps in a year, the friction would disperse enough for trade to begin, and from there, something stronger, but for now, all they could take were baby steps.

All of that was good and fine, but Cal had more immediate concerns.

“I’m not sure what they’ve done to you, but never mind that. We’ll get you a fresh set of clothes befitting of your status so you can abandon that horrid rogue outfit. And whatever strange rumors they’re spreading about you, we’ll stomp them out. We only have the one horse, but tomorrow you can ride behind me and tell me what you’ve been doing all this time, all right?”

That would have been nice, in a way. She could just go back to how things had always been. Continue to keep her father in the dark.

But no.

It was too late for that. Too many people had seen her. Too many people had put the puzzle pieces together. And more than that, she didn’t want to go back. She’d finally broken free of her mind-numbingly boring life in Ftheran and gotten her first taste of adventure, and she wasn’t giving that up.

Her father continued to drone on for a time until Cal at last worked up the resolve to butt in.

“Dad. Dad!”

Unused to being interrupted by his daughter, the king frowned, though to his credit, he did grow silent.

“I’m not going back with you. I’m staying here.”

She had a million things she wanted to catch up on now that she was back. A million different ways she wanted to test out her new skill. More importantly, though, Tess needed her right now. She would go back to Ftheran… eventually. And on her own terms. Not now, though.

Cal did her best to tune out the string of questions, demands, and invectives that soon burst from the lips of the king. Twice, the guards outside rushed in to check on him, only for him to order them back out with a barking shout.

For her part, Cal merely weathered the storm of his disbelief and displeasure until he started to wear himself out. She took a seat on the ground, and when at last she managed to get a word in edgewise, she patted the ground, signaling for her father to do the same. Even past the fact that such a thing was beneath a king, he seemed ill-inclined to agree, but he paused on seeing the expression in her eyes. Hesitantly, he sat.

“Dad,” Calilah sighed out. “I think you’re already starting to understand this, but I may have been… keeping some things from you.”

She knew there was no coming back from this, but so be it.

“I think we need to talk.” As she would soon come to find out, it would be a rather long talk, too.

And hey, not much need to keep my identity a secret after this all. While I’m doing things I hate, maybe I’ll explain things to that bartender, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hartha sat cross-legged in the center of one of the many forest “farms” that had popped up during her absence. She could feel as her skills passively enriched the land around her, helping the plants grow larger even now.

She’d been coming out here a lot in the past few days. She was enjoying having others around, but she wasn’t entirely used to it, either. After so many months of having nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company, she still needed these moments of peace and quiet now and again.

Thankfully, returning when she did had postponed any talks of holding a celebration for her -- she was sure there would be one, eventually, but it would take place when she’d had a bit more time to recenter herself.

For now, Hartha liked to use this time to plan for the future.

I’ll need to help Elphaea grow and enrich the forest if I want to level. We’ll need to have a long talk on what sorts of skills I should be taking, especially with the strange dark direction my class has taken.

Even more than that, though, she was consumed with ideas on how to use her new magic.

Doubtless, there will be many of us who wish to change classes. Having almost everyone be a Forester made sense when there was never any reason to leave the forest. For the shadows who increasingly ventured out to interact with the others or who wished to one day run the dungeon, though, they would need something new.

And now Hartha could help them do just that. For her, initiating a class change was fairly trivial at this point. More than that, she’d grown quite good at telling what sort of class a soul was well-suited for. It wasn’t exactly part of her class, but maybe she could act as some sort of guide for the others?

A pleasant thought.

Sadly, her musings were rudely interrupted by the sound of shouting in the distance. Rather than requiring her to get up and investigate, however, said shouting continued to get closer and closer.

Soon, a forest shadow strode into the clearing, though she wasn’t the source of the bothersome din. Instead, in her arms she held a noisy human who kept yelling increasingly inventive threats. On spotting Hartha, the man’s words grew so fast, they became unintelligible.

The shadow did her best to bow while holding the man, earning a slight head nod and an expectant look in return.

“Apologies for the disturbance, honored Heart. This one rushed into our village demanding to be brought to you. He appears to be harmless and would not leave, and we did not wish to draw the humans’ ire by attacking him, so I was tasked with bringing him to you.”

Hartha, for the life of her, couldn’t imagine what the man could want with her. Thankfully, he seemed more than happy to make that matter clear.

“YOU! What did you do to me? Fix it! Change me back! Now!”

Change him back? Had she done something to him? She couldn’t say she recognized the man.

Ah. That was it. Instead of his face, she looked to his soul, and things became much more clear. Him. The very first one I took the soul of. The one who’d been looking for any non-combatants to “level up” from.

“You did something to me! Ruined me! What did you do?”

Out of curiosity, Hartha looked closer at his soul. Lacking the necessary Perception, she didn’t have a true identification skill, but she’d grown fairly good at reading class information directly from the source.

Level 7 Penitent

She nodded in satisfaction.

“There is no need to shout. I simply stripped away your old class and allowed you to pick a new one after slightly altering the choices you would have. I believe you will find you are unable to switch your class, even with that tool your king uses. Do not fret, though. I imagine the effect will wear off if you level the class enough times. Level 15, perhaps? And in any case, Penitent will be a good class for you. It sounds like it will level through acts of charity and repentance.”

When the former soldier recovered from his clear shock, he became fully apoplectic, nearly frothing at the mouth. Many “you can’t”s and “you have to”s were thrown around, but Hartha merely shrugged.

How exactly was that her problem? She thought she was already being rather kind by returning the man’s soul in the first place.

With a dismissive wave, she signaled for the shadow to take the man away, which she was more than happy to comply with.

When at last Hartha could hear his shrieky death threats no more, she smiled with relief.

What an unexpected nuisance. Now, where was I?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knock knock knock.

A pair of dull eyes slowly angled themselves towards the door. Despite the repeated knocking, their owner made no move to get up from the bed in which she lay.

“Ah, yes. I believe she did tell me she would be dropping by today. One moment.” In a plush chair with high, ornate armrests, Verin sat off to the side of the bed with her sketchbook out. Setting her drawings to the side, the noble traversed the length of the massive bedroom to open the door to reveal the form of the city’s most favored bartender.

“Lady Nadja. I believe I informed you that Tess may not be in a state to do much in the way of hosting, but you seemed insistent that you had something to get off your chest. Pay no mind to me. I’ll simply be off to the side.”

True to her word, Verin fetched her sketchbook and relocated to a different impossibly expensive chair, just far enough to offer some false semblance of privacy. Still, it was clear that she was ready to intervene should Nadja try anything strange. Not that she expected the bartender would, but given the circumstances, she was feeling rather protective over her friend these days.

For Nadja’s part, she seemed entirely at a loss after seeing Tess in her current state, approaching the bed almost robotically. When the initial shock wore off, however, she started to speak in the cadence of one who’d arrived with well-rehearsed lines to say.

“I just wanted to come and say that your friend Calilah came and explained things to me. Your friend the princess of Ftheran who also happens to be the Shadow of Ftheran, so thanks for warning me about that one. Anyway, I realize I accused you of lying last time we talked, and you actually weren’t. I think you still have a lot to apologize for, but I wanted to try to clear the air, and-”

Abruptly stopping, Nadja plopped herself down into the chair that Verin had recently vacated, letting herself sag into it.

“Why the hells do you look like that? Like you’re damned haunted or something. I came here with all sorts of lines prepared to make you feel at least a little guilty. To get some sort of acknowledgement out of you. You ruined my life! I’m starting to get that you didn’t do it because you’re some evil, heartless mastermind, and maybe you didn’t actually have any bad intentions and you’re not the one who knocked me out, but you still ruined it!”

Receiving nothing but a blank stare in response, Nadja threw her head into her hands with a groan.

“I’m supposed to be allowed to be angry! To hear you say sorry and really mean it. To yell a little! I mean, in a weird way, I’m pretty happy how things ended up, but at the very least, you were a grade-A asshole, you know?”

She paused as if to allow time for Tess to agree, but of course, she didn’t.

“Well, whatever. Rain check. I guess, ultimately though, I came to say I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out last time when you tried to explain things. And the only reason you weren’t more clear was because you were trying to keep a friend’s secret, which isn’t an awful reason, I guess. And I don’t exactly forgive you, but it’s not such a big deal anymore, so…”

Not even entirely sure that Tess was hearing her, it was all Nadja could do to sigh.

“I’m saying we’re okay. You’re allowed in the bar. And if you wanted to talk about everything sometime over a drink, I’m saying I would not try to bash your brains in or kick you out or make it some big thing. So. That’s that. And if you don’t remember me saying any of this, Verin can tell you later.”

Nadja seemed uncertain how to react considering her words garnered no acknowledgement. Having said what she came to say, however, the bartender awkwardly rose and shuffled to the door, turning back only once to address the room’s other occupant.

“She’s going to be okay, right?”

With far more certainty than she truly felt, Verin curtly nodded.

“She will be, yes. And may your next visit be a happier occasion.”

For a moment, Nadja lingered at the door as if uncertain whether to say anything more. Ultimately, though, she left, leaving the two of them in silence.

Or, at least a short-lived silence.

Only minutes later, another knock came at the door.

Hiding her slight annoyance, Verin answered the knocking once more, expecting Nadja to have returned. Instead, however, the figure who greeted her was quite different indeed.

“Lady Verin,” the wizened form of the archmage declared with a bow. “I believe it is time I saw to my disciple properly.”

Relief washed over Verin, taking with it a built-up tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “You have some way of making her better, then?”

At this, the archmage openly scowled.

“I do not, sadly. I have, however, made the necessary preparations and fetched what I need to take her to someone who will.”

Even as he held his body perfectly still, there was a certain air of resignation about the powerful mage as he whispered out his next words.

“It is time, I’m afraid, to make a brief visit to my old master.”