Chapter One Hundred and Eight - 108
The next day found Felix approaching the Elder Crown. The rain persisted, though the sky were merely overcast and grey while a steady drizzle filled the streets. It was early morning, as Felix had found that he no longer needed as much sleep. He barely got more than four hours before his brain woke him up, while his body filled him with the frantic urge to move. As before, Felix filled the inn's water supply, including several storage barrels located in a cleverly hidden shed abutting the building. After wolfing down several helpings of breakfast, he set out, Pit at his side.
While no one gave him second looks, having a Dire Hound at his side was great at clearing a path. Pit was a giant puppy, but all anyone else saw was a half-tame monster. Thankfully things like the huge lizard-birds that pulled many of the carriages were easily twice the size of Pit and common as hell, so while some stepped aside with a startled oath or wide eyes, most just quietly gave the disguised tenku space to roam. Felix happily followed in his wake.
Luckily he had been able to purchase a secondhand brown cloak from Jacinda for a few silver pieces, or 'swords' as they were called. On the expensive side for secondhand, as far as Felix could figure the price of things, it came with an enchantment that more than made up for it.
Name: Simple Cloak
Type: Clothing (enchanted)
Lore: A simple but sturdy design favored in areas of a more temperate clime. Has several pockets inside.
Weather Sealed I - Rendered waterproof and slightly resistant to fire, abrasion, and tears.
Now, not nearly as sodden as he had been before, Felix trotted up to the storefront of the Elder Crown...and found it locked. He peered through the large glass window in front, but it was still early morning and no magelights floated inside. He could see plenty of books, still in the neat rows he had placed them in, but there was otherwise no sign of Zara. He even craned his neck, trying to peer into the shadows above the room.
Felix flared his Manasight and the ambient Mana in the building and streets burst into life around him, illuminating their wild, interwoven nature to him. As whenever he'd activated it in town, it was a lot, but Felix muscled through the input, pushing away everything that wasn't his focus. It had been getting easier and easier to do that, far more so then when he was trapped in the Maw's prison. The building was locked, and several threads of wispy colored vapor was strung along the door and window before him. The threads were woven into the wood and stone casements, almost permanent enchantments.
That's what they are. Enchantments. Felix marveled at the skillfully woven strings of power. What Skill does this?
Of course, he had no answers there. The one he'd prefer to ask was missing.
Hopefully not actually missing. It doesn't seem as if she's been back since I made my changes. That's almost three days, the night before the Wretches got through. Felix fretted at the coincidence, alarm burning in his mind. What if she was hurt?
There were a few vendors nearby, each with their own shopfronts. Felix made a few gentle inquiries, trying not to see too eager. Most hadn't a clue and promptly ignored him once he made it clear he wasn't buying, but a cobbler two doors down told him that he hadn't seen the bookseller for several days.
"Ain't too uncommon with that one," the cobbler offer congenially. He nimbly threaded a thick needle through the insole of a large boot before him. "Comes an' goes. Shop's closed more often than not."
Felix thanked him and went back to the Elder Crown.
The shop was undamaged, as was the neighborhood around it. The Wretches had landed further south and east of the area, closer to the river that snaked through the four Quarters. Felix had to assume Zara simply had errands that took her away, though with the city locked down he was unsure where she could be going. Still, her disappearance ate at him.
I should've come back yesterday. Damn it. A mote of fury kindled in his chest, at his own guilty conscience. If he had come back yesterday, if he hadn't been afraid of being scolded he could have had answers. Better answers than Cal and Harn could provide him. A way forward.
That mote became a boiling heat, a surge of impotent frustration. Felix clenched his hands tight enough that several passersby gave him frightened looks; his forearms creaked with tension, their painful strain clearly audible. His skin prickled with an agonizing heat, the urge to do stupid, reckless violence nearly overwhelming. He wanted to tear the bookshop's door off its hinges, or put his boot through a wall. To break and shatter and utter destroy something, anything he could. He raised his clenched fist, muscles twitching with that wild intensity, and he saw...
...his skin had blackened.
What Dwells Beneath is level 2!
Pit butted against his hand, his soft fur and warmth a shock against Felix's skin. Waves of serenity flowed over him, into him, splashing toward the bond in his chest. The surge of anger broke apart as that warmth eroded it, his senses flooded with something ineffable. Felix breathed deep, his mind grasping and flowing with Pit's compassionate offering.
Calm. Let it flow. Let it center you.
Meditation is level 34!
Deep Mind is level 31!
When Felix opened his eyes, his hand had reverted to its normal coloration. Not a talon in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief, all of the tension flowing out of him with that breath, and his knees nearly gave out. Stretching his right hand toward Pit's wide Dire Wolf head, he gave him an appreciative pat.
"Thanks, buddy."
That was entirely too close. He had almost transformed in broad daylight, before a hundred people on an open street. What happens if I can't control it? That rage...it was mine but it wasn't.
Felix was pretty sure he knew who it came from, and it took several calming breaths before his heart steadied again. He imagined the Maw was laughing its ass off, but thankfully his Bastion of Will was held too tightly to hear it. Until he knew how to remove the Primordial asshole from his Mind, he was stuck in his situation. It all came back to the same thing. His only way forward was to strengthen himself; perhaps if he strengthened his mental Skills like Bastion of Will and Deep Mind he could excise the Maw's influence completely.
I hope.
"C'mon Pit," Felix said as he started walking northward. "Back to training."
The streets approaching to the warehouse section of the Dust Quarter were mostly residential, usually filled with laborers going to or from work in the mountain mines or the river docks. Often times kids would scurry about, playing games and chasing each other through the dusty streets. Today things were a bit different: the roads were more like mud after all the rain, and there were far more folks in armor walking about.
Felix counted at least ten Guilders moving through the crowd, armed to the teeth and bearing a green or red sash at their hips. The sash had Guild markings on it, their crest of a Sword, Spear, and Shield, but they were more easily picked out by the medallions they all wore around their necks. Tin Ranks were most of those he spotted, but a few Iron Ranks peeked through the crush of bodies. They all seemed to be panning the crowds, looking down alleys and around barrels or wagons.
But they weren't the only ones.
Several white-enameled warriors sauntered through the streets, usually no more than two at a time, but far more obvious in their golden sunbursts and bright red cloaks. Again, most were Acolytes, which Felix had learned was the trainee rank of the Inquisition. However, he did see one group of Acolytes led by an Initiate stop a middle aged man and demand he lower his hood and show them his eyes.
"O-of course, your excellenc--" the man tried to comply, but his arm was arrested by the gloved hand of an Iron Rank Guilder.
"No need for that, friend," smiled the Iron Rank, his light brown hair tied back in a simple queue a the nape of his neck. His jaw was square and covered in scruff, his smile easy and bright. "But I've a few questions for you, if you've a moment."
"Ah, sure--"
"Hold, citizen." The Initiate wore a full metal helm, and only his angry eyes could be seen. He stepped forward, and loomed at the Guilder, for all that they were perhaps two inches shorter. "You have no rights here, Iron Rank. We're conducting a search."
"As are we," the man said easily, gesturing back toward the four Tin Ranks that were nearby. "We've reports of a screaming in the night. Said it was around here. Now sir, did you hear anything like that last night?"
As the man glanced between the two armored foes, Felix Eyed the Tin Rankers and quickly looked away. Damn. It's those kids from the inn.
He'd heard that they had passed whatever entry tests Guilders performed, but hadn't expected them to show up here. Before the monster attack neither the Guild nor Inquisition bothered with the Dust Quarter, a fact Felix had quite enjoyed the more he learned about both organizations.
Now they're doing patrols? Last thing he needed now was for them to remember him. Even if he couldn't be tied to anything, he felt far more comfortable under the radar. Felix stepped into the nearest alley, Pit following close behind. Just in time too, as the Guilder and Initiate's voices started getting more heated. Pit let out a huff of annoyance.
No thanks. The less involvement with either of those groups the better, as far as Felix was concerned. Cut through the alley, skirt around them altogether. Might even be able to reach the northern section this way.
Felix and Pit headed off into the shadowed back streets of the Dust, but he quickly found out that city planning hadn't been on the mind of those who had built this Quarter. The alleys and half-drowned streets behind residential blocks and the odd commercial businesses was a warren of interconnecting pathways. Trash filled most of them, the gutters either too full or too broken to sluice any waste away and into the large, gaping sewer grates. Those were interspersed in a sort of hodgepodge way, some alleys having two or three, while other times he went blocks without seeing one. Luckily the rains were keeping the stink down, but that just meant much of the way was spent trudging through inch deep pools of nameless muck.
"This is godawful, Pit," Felix complained as he stepped on something that squished unpleasantly. "I'm so glad these boots are waterproof."
Pit let out a piteous whine, his ears drooping. He had no boots. Felix patted the big tenku's ribs. "We're almost through. I think."
They wandered a bit longer in the maze of alleys with no clear end in sight. Felix's memory and sense of direction were on point, but the buildings here were tall tenements, apartments stacked up four, five stories high. He had no landmarks to guide him. He contemplated just climbing the side of the nearest building when he heard splashing and the clear sound of retching up ahead.
Someone shouted, and there was the unmistakable ring of metal on metal.
Felix almost ignored them, not willing to get involved in this fight either. But then he heard a familiar voice.
"Put yer steel away. Check his pockets and purse. He ain't gonna need it no more."
Mehren. Felix groaned inwardly and Pit's hackles rose. And probably a few of his 'Blades.' What are they doing back here? It sounded like...are they gonna kill someone?
Moving carefully through the water, Felix peered around the nearest corner. Sure enough, there were the Mehren and his goons. He was wrong about the murder though...it had already happened. A body, grey and lifeless was at their feet. It was partially submerged in the growing muck, but it was clearly torn into several pieces. It's chest was ripped open, while one of his arms and head were detached completely. The last was easy to tell, as the head was sitting atop a tilting pile of refuse. Felix's Eye identified him as Risel Faun, an Elf.
Damn, Felix grimaced at the gore. Mehren and his cronies were standing around the body, and Felix thought he detected a bit of surprise on their faces. I don't think they did this. Maybe they just found it?
The Blades looked to be in rough shape since their encounter with Felix a few days ago. None of their Health was at full, though only one of them was wearing a sling. Perhaps healing potions helped undo the damage he had caused, but not all of them. Mehren, however, was back in fighting form. His Health, Stamina, and Mana were all at full and he seemed supremely confident as he stood directing his men to loot the body. There was a...wavering to his Status that Felix doesn't quite understand. As if he were Eyeing him through a rippled glass window.
"Hoo boy, found some good on him! At least thirty stone, and ten sword."
"I got a knife! Barely used too!"
"Hah!" Mehren laughed, nudging an absolute giant. It was a Half-Ogre named Claude. "An you thought coming out here was a waste."
"It helps. Still makes you short on your take, boy." Claude cracked his knuckles. "Boss is still pissed at ya."
Mehren blanched, and nodded quickly. "O-of course. We're gonna hit the tenements next. Those old broads'll have a ton of stone stashed away. Always do."
Despite a rising pulse of outrage from Pit (did he understand the concept of robbery?), Felix pulled himself back. The better path was to leave, let the world spin on. He wasn't involved, right?
Right. Felix took a last lingering look, ready to back up and climb out of that place.
Then he saw the sigils.
Cut into the torso were at least six sigils, their shapes clear and precise. Each one was a twisted, rotten vision. A...cage around a terrible secret. They pulsed, triggering his Manasight, each a corrupted heartbeat, pounding out a dangerous, intoxicating tattoo...
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