FMH: Everything ~ Fourteen

The first stop for The Four was visiting the kingdom's Spymaster. Everyone had somewhat expected the Archmage to hold the position, so they were vaguely surprised to be met by Ma’am, the head maid of the castle. She was in a terrible mood, likely because she had been unable to detect the intruder who had taken the future queen, realize that she had been taken, or initiate any chain of events that could begin the process of bringing her mistress home.

“Hurry along!” Ma’am snapped at them, tapping her hand rapidly on her desk. “I don't have all day. I have my other standard duties to attend to as well. This… situation… has taken all of us by surprise. I don't like to be surprised.”

“What do you like, sweet baby blue-eyed mistress?” Zed leaned forward inquisitively, batting his eyelashes at her. “Did you know I pegged you as the Spymaster the very first time I laid my eyes on you? This confirmation is… exquisite.”

She didn't even deign to answer, instead tossing a report in front of them as well as a thick, sealed envelope. “This is all the information we have been able to collect, including the most likely culprit, the route they took to escape, and the worlds that they likely traveled through to rapidly exit the area.”

Taylor picked up the paper, but Luke eyed it suspiciously. Documents were just one step away from being books, and books were completely unnatural. His stare roved to the unassuming caretaker of the castle as she continued her miniature rant. “As far as we know, there is only one agent of the Dynasty of Dogs that could pull off something like this. To us, he is known only by his code name, the ‘Gytrash’. As to his capabilities, well… we have only documented a few. Most of the time, he is used as an assassin. Very rarely has anyone been able to identify him or survived his presence.”

“The Black Dog?” Surprisingly, only Zed was aware of this strange figure. “You know, he is one of the best tavern tales in wet, stormy weather. People want to feel like being inside is a bigger benefit than it really is, and feeling the shakes when they are alone on the road definitely gives them a reason to stay by the fire, drinking spiced ale. He’s real, huh?”

“Too much so,” Ma’am agreed grimly, her eyes allowing a hint of acknowledgment toward the Bard. “It seems that the abilities are transferred to whoever can tame the dog, so killing the handler of the Gytrash doesn’t guarantee he won't reappear again in the future. The only positive note is that it seems this dog is a solitary type and either so difficult to find or tame that there is usually only one bonded Ascender to worry about in a generation.”

Following her verbal report, she tapped on the still-sealed manila envelope that lay untouched on the desk. “Everything we know about the social and political structure of the Dynasty of Dogs is in here. Hopefully, it will suffice as a briefing so you'll be able to move quickly, efficiently, and return triumphant. There's no reason to tell you, but it certainly doesn't hurt you to know: more people than you will be on the chopping block if your mission isn't a success.”

Almost unconsciously, she gently rubbed her neck, and Luke could practically see the executioner's sword coming down, ever so slowly. With a polite nod, she straightened her shoulders and hurried out of the room, leaving The Four to their own devices. Zed inhaled deeply then heaved out a deep sigh of satisfaction. “I wasn't joking when I said I had guessed who she was. As soon as it was confirmed, I gained a massive influx of Potentia. My Mastery is starting to Tier up!”

Luke had already noticed, as the sparse mana in the area had been converging on the Bard. Upon observing how slowly the trickle of energy moved, the Murderhobo had to wonder if the actual process of ‘Tiering up’ was generally delayed for normal people and how long it would take before Zed’s Mastery was unlocked for usage. Andre joined the Bard in his excitement, whooping in excitement and grabbing Zed to spin him around before letting him stand on his own again.

“Congratulations, my friend! Which ability? Do you have an idea of what it will turn into, or how long this process will take?” At the redhead's torrent of questions, Luke nearly allowed his lips to quirk upward a fraction of an inch. It was good that his friends were as inquisitive as he was and much more willing to be touchy-feely. It was nice to get the answers that he desired without having to resort to asking for them directly.

Zed paused for a moment, reading over his Cal Scan. “The Mastery I chose to devote Potentia to is ‘Creu Hunan Newydd’. Why are you all looking at me like that? You've seen me use this all the time; it’s my Mastery that allows me to create a clone of myself and send it out into the world.”

“What language is that?” Taylor questioned with great interest. Luke recalled that she had a knack for languages, and words were literally power in her Ascendancy.

“As far as I know, it’s Bardic.” Zed tossed his head back and brushed his bangs away from his face. “I wouldn't expect you to understand. That's part of why I've never told you the actual names of my Masteries. Usually, I just let you know what they do.”

“So you have no idea at all,” Taylor guessed accurately enough that the Bard stiffened and refused to meet her eyes. “That's fine. We need to get out of the city and finish this mission.”

Strangely, Luke was the one to block their path. “I need better armor.”

Andre pointed at the door. “No matter what we decide to do before leaving the city, let's get away from the castle and our babysitters before discussing it.”

Everyone readily agreed, and they walked out through the front gates, taking their time to make sure no one was going to suddenly chase them down and start shouting orders again. The farther they walked from the castle, the calmer they all became. Luke didn't restrict himself as the others had. He knew exactly where he was going, and he was ready to snap some necks. His hurry was noted by his friends, with greater worry than he felt was warranted.

“Where are you going in such a rush?” Zed half-jogged next to the Murderhobo to keep pace with him. “Not to put any ideas in your head, but you're looking a little… extra-murdery today.”

“I'm just going to talk with him.” Luke’s very calm, exceedingly reasonable statement didn't have the effect he had been expecting. Instead of his friends being on board with his plans, they started to question him. Things like ‘who are you going to speak with’ and ‘what did they do to deserve death’ were common amongst the menagerie of cross-examinations.

He didn't feel that their inane quizzing deserved a proper answer. They had heard his complaints about this precise situation for the last several years. It was not his fault that they didn't remember, and Luke didn't like to repeat himself. Besides, his destination was already in sight, and he closed faster and faster, until he was moving at a light jog. Plants began erupting spontaneously from the soil, the air grew thick with mana, and he clapped two hands over his ears to drown out the cloying, honeyed words that Zed was attempting to ply him with.

Luke didn’t need to be stopped. He would ignore any Spells, and there was no need for arguments against doing what had to be done.

The door of the armorsmith was heavily enchanted on top of being extremely durable, as was to be expected from a workshop of such quality. He knew that the owner routinely boasted that the door could stop the charge of a bull elephant, so he was not surprised that he was able to barrel directly through it, leaving the door intact but ripping it directly off the hinges. He stared down at the fallen door, which still had not a mark on it. “That would make a good shield, if I was some kind of weakling that needed a shield.”

There was no clerk in the storefront, not another customer nor employee to be found. Instead, only one man occupied the space, and it appeared he had been expecting this visit. “Ah, Lord Murderhobo! I'm so glad you came personally to pick up your order. It has been waiting ever so patiently since its completion.”

Luke's index finger, which was approximately the length and diameter of a garden trowel’s handle, jabbed through the air to point accusingly at the armorsmith. “I paid for delivery, and you know it.”

“I had plans to send your gear; of course I did!” the armorsmith defended himself, self-righteously placing his palms on his own chest. “But every time I started to put together a shipping order, Inquisitors would pop up at my door, demanding that I attach tracking enchantments, smuggle people in the box, or other such unsavory practices. I value the privacy, comfort, and safety of my customers above all else. Why else would I create these masterpieces of armor to their individual specifications?”

The Murderhobo’s glare lessened slightly, and he allowed his hand to drop to his side. “You've got a good point. Perhaps I should pay a visit to the other vendors I had selected instead.”

“Why don't we get your armor unpackaged and ready for your inspection?” the armorsmith offered with a soothing smile, unable to hide the sweat that was trickling from his temples. “I'm certain that it will meet your standards. I followed each of your requested specifications and made hundreds of iterations before I was satisfied that it would exceed your expectations. As per your instructions, the failed copies were sold off or melted down as needed, and those profits were returned to the project to generate a better-quality version.”

“Enough sales pitch. All you’re doing is making me think that you have some apprentice in the back room desperately trying to finish the piece while you keep me distracted.” Luke’s dull growl made the other man burst into laughter, slapping his knee. It slowly petered off into awkward silence when he realized the Murderhobo wasn’t joking.

“I have the set right here.” The man swallowed visibly as he lifted the top off of what could have easily been a coffin. “As you requested, it has all been made to link  together perfectly, with as many useful embellishments as possible. Every tenth of an inch contains a fully embedded spike, each of which has been carefully decorated and enchanted by the finest jewelers and enchanters in the capital. As you might suspect, the fact that such a quantity of gold, silver, precious metals, and natural treasures is imbued into this gear has made it incredibly dense and heavy. I would even go so far as to say that it is utterly unusable, if it were not for the fact that I personally ensured that each piece is able to fully articulate.”

Luke stared at the gear hungrily, then stepped forward and pressed one finger against a random spot. Immediately, his magical armor flared into view, preventing the spike from pushing into his flesh. The result made him nod in very slight appreciation. Unless the item had been able to deal some damage to him, even with that light touch, it wouldn't have activated his Source-cerer’s Armory. “Good quality.”

“Would you like to try it on?” the armorer asked with great interest. “I haven't been able to find anyone with the sheer strength necessary to give this beauty the tryout it deserves. I call this the ‘Promiscuous Stud’ set, since it is almost exactly the opposite of an ‘Iron Maiden’.”

Even though the armorer was busy laughing at his own joke, Luke felt that his business with the man was done and the conversation was over. Ultimately, he wouldn't be trying on this armor. At least, not in this form. He didn't trust that some form of failsafe hadn’t been built into it, so he simply allowed his mana to pour out of himself and into the gear.

As the mana density infusing the metal reached a critical point, he was forced to whisper the name of the Skill to activate it, due to the lack of available free power in the environment. It was frustrating being unable to simply enact his will on the world with a thought, but each world seemed to have its own rules. Here, calling out the name of his Skill appeared to be necessary to make it function properly. To be fair, this particular Skill was Tier nine, level nine. The fact that he could use it so easily, so quickly, was a testament to his familiarity with it and its constant usage. “Source-cerer’s Armory.”

The armorsmith shrieked in confusion and horror as the entirety of nearly half a decade's work vanished in an instant. The armor melted away, allowing the paper packaging to flutter out as various shavings of wood scattered across his floor. “That! I didn't do that! The armor was real, I swear it! Someone must have stolen it and replaced it with an illusion-”

“I'm satisfied with my purchase.” Luke turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the flabbergasted smith to sputter indignantly and suffer a small existential crisis. The Murderhobo wasn't worried about that. Instead, he was far more intrigued by reading over his new gear’s combat utility.

Masterwork ‘Promiscuous Stud’ Set.

When wearing 1 part of the set: 4% of overall health is added as armor. You can stick to any surface without falling, so long as you're touching it with this armor.

When wearing 2 parts of the set: 6% of overall health is added as armor. Apply a bleed effect equal to 1/2 of damage dealt with any spikes on this armor per second. This effect lasts for three seconds. Stackable. All previous bonuses apply.

When wearing 4 parts of the set: 8% of overall health is added as armor. You are able to greenlight up to 10 people that can touch areas covered with this armor. Anyone who has been greenlit will not take damage from the spikes. You need to greenlight yourself in order to not take damage. All previous bonuses apply.

When wearing 6 parts of the set: 10% of overall health is added as armor. Any creature touching you with any part of their body will suffer 4-9 penetration damage per second, per foot of exposed body touching the armor. All melee attacks using no other weapons will deal an additional 20-31 penetration damage, and all punching damage gains 20% armor penetration. All previous bonuses apply.

+8% Physical damage (Penetration Damage). Hands treated as weapons when attacking.

Strength: Slashing/piercing attack reduction (70%).

Weakness: Blunt force, magical damage. (-22%)

By the time he had finished familiarizing himself with the associated features, he was bleeding from multiple points. “Greenlight myself. Remove the Soul Brand from the other gear, add it to this. That’ll double my armor, and I think that means I can bust through Zone twenty now, as soon as I can get back in.”

As soon the declaration left his lips, fresh holes ceased to open in his exposed flesh, and the existing ones slowly healed. He glanced down at his hand, which was dragging Cookie along and tearing up the road behind him. Magical sparks went flying as his armor tried and failed to penetrate her exterior. “Greenlight Cookie. Two slots already filled. I wonder if I can greenlight the road? Nah. Why else does the kingdom forcibly take taxes out of what I earn, if not to cover potholes?

His companions stared at him with stunned interest, blinking and seeming to come out of a trance as he waved at the road. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”