Scourge of Chaos: Savage Healer

The night was young and beautiful as Sunday stepped out of the Wayward Rat with a large bag under his arm. If all went well, he would be the owner of quite a few spells. The Mirrored Soul art was a strange one, but not too difficult to practice.

It had taken only two days for the seed to be sown, and all that remained was feeding it essence until the space fully formed. As Sunday understood it, it would be an inventory for spells, that would mirror the state of his actual soul-space, but keep the spells in a state of inactivity.

To swap them out wouldn’t be too difficult, but still involved at least an hour or two of meditations, which made it useless for combat situations. Still, a large choice of spells to prepare was something no mage would refuse. Versatility, especially when one was not bound by the constraints of the Art they practiced, was one of the most important things.

It was all going too well, but Sunday had allowed himself time to digest what he had learned from Elora. He was most worried about the vampires. Even under the effects of the Berserk Moon and losing himself, he hadn’t been able to best a lord.

That meant that if the Baron came knocking with demands, things would grow complicated. On the other hand, the Arcanum was the lesser challenge. They seemed utterly out of touch with proper scheming, and while they had learned a lot about him he was sure they wouldn’t overstep. Not now.

Perhaps giving them a little would serve well to placate them as well.

Sunday sat on one of the benches in the small square before the Wayward Rat. Elora had sought him out and told him to prepare, and he was prepared. Platinum pieces heavy in his pouch, scrolls of copied stolen Arts in his bag, and a mind full of curiosity. It would be a good night. Perhaps the girl would tell him more of all the scheming bastards plaguing the city.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” a familiar voice said. Someone was sitting on the bench next to him, having appeared too quickly for Sunday to react.

Sunday tried to hide the sudden panic and stopped himself from summoning a face-melter.

“Ah, I was wondering while the wind suddenly carried the stench of manure over. How have you been, Rubien?” Bloody bastards. I should’ve abused the Hunter situation more. Fuck.

“I expected you to be more cordial now that I can snap you like a twig. Where’s your protection? Where’s your power? Some of the lesser ones talk of the undead protected by darkness. The one who killed a lord and beat up another. Your name carries weight among the circles of the ignorant. But it's all lies, isn’t it? They don’t know what I know…That you’re just a weak wretch with good fortune. A pawn.”

They speak? I haven’t checked my talent lately… I don’t feel like there’s been major developments, but I haven’t tested myself either. I wonder…

“The only thing you can snap is your lips when you kiss the Baron’s ass, Ruby,” Sunday smiled. His mood had instantly improved. If the vampires spoke, then their servants and slaves heard it too. How long would it take for his new legend to spread like the plague? How long until unlimited power was at his beck and call?

“Beware wretch. The only thing keeping you alive is the favor of your betters.”

“We have that in common then. Why are you here, ruining this lovely night? Surely you don’t miss me? I kicked your ass quite a bit last time. I hoped it would hold.”

There was barely perceptible movement as a hand wrapped around Sunday’s throat, but he didn’t so much as blink. He would not die here. The vampires were under the Baron’s boot, and the old bastard had schemes he needed Sunday for. It would be suicide for anyone to overstep. Rubien especially, had already been threatened once. The Baron didn’t seem to value his lords too highly, but then again, he could make new ones quite easily.

The hand moved away a moment later.

“That’s what I thought. Now, why don’t we start over?”

“The Baron wishes to speak with you,” Rubien said slowly.

So soon? Ah, I’ve already gotten some profits from my business, and he’s probably heard of our nightly strolls too. What could he want of me?

“I’m busy right now.”

“The Baron is asking—”

“Yes, yes. I’ll come over tomorrow or the day after, don’t worry. Just make sure to prepare something nice to drink. I’m not a fan of blood.”

Rubien stood up, his dark cloak billowing slightly. The vampire was looking positively pissed, which only brought more joy to Sunday’s heart. He was far from hoping there was salvaging this.

He didn’t care. He would either die because of relying on his ‘uniqueness’ to keep him safe or make it far enough for the likes of the vampires to not be a challenge at all.

“You should know your place. I understand quite well that they find you fascinating, but many of us think that change is not good. We’re beings of eternity and night, and we enjoy our ways. The Baron might tolerate you for now, but that will change.”

“Aren’t you sweet? I now understand why they send you, a lofty lord to be a messenger boy. Tell you what, give me what you have on you, and I won’t tell the Baron you tried to make me distrust him. He’s pretty determined to make him see him as a trustworthy ally, you see. What would he think if one of his was out here, threatening poor old helpless me? Oh, the humanity. What if I decide to give myself to the Arcanum and seek their protection? What if I hole up in the Mesmer’s basement out of sheer terror?”

Rubien’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, bitch. Now, your pouch. Your cloak too, I like it. And I swear on the honor of my sword, given to me by my late master, that I won’t snitch.”

The vampire lord was a statue of anger and fury. It almost seemed like the night had grown darker. Then he was gone. A pouch and a cloak sat thrown on the ground before Sunday and he gingerly picked them up. The pouch had a total of a hundred gold pieces, which was a small fortune, but nothing noteworthy in Sunday’s eyes.

The cloak, however, was exceptional. The material was unlike anything he had ever seen and it suited him quite nicely. It was lacking additional pockets, but that was easy to fix. He returned to the tavern to leave his new gains.

Sunday guessed why it had been Rubien coming and not someone neutral, or the more pleasant Oswald. The Baron certainly knew his subjects and from their brief encounter and this new information from Elora, Sunday had pegged him for someone quite crafty.

If Rubien acted out, and Sunday complained, then a punishment would only make the Baron more trustworthy in Sunday’s eyes. After all, one of the lords, punished for a mere undead? How grand! How honorable!

“Nice cloak,” Elora said half an hour later, as she approached. She was wearing one of her combat outfits, although this one was subdued. She also wore a cloak that made her look like she was up to no good. Still stylish, of course.

“I thought you’d pick one with a bit more straps,” Sunday said.

“Fuck off. Let’s go!”

Sunday shrugged. The walk to what constituted the ‘black market’ was quite long, and they ended up near the docks littering the edges of the lake. There was a lot of ‘farming’ going on in the waters, with people scraping quasi-spell materials from the bottom, hunting for some strange floating flowers that followed the currents, and getting fish.

The smell of flowers was overwhelming so close to the waters.

“Any new developments with your mother?” Sunday asked as they weaved between the buildings.

“After a few shouting matches I agreed to get close to you and monitor you. My mom was pleased but suspicious.”

“Ah. I’ll have you know I’m dining with the Baron tomorrow! Or the day after! I still haven’t decided how far I want to push my special status.”

Elora eyed him, “He’s dangerous. I don’t know what he can do, since I’ve never seen him fight but… I heard you fought lords. Even killed one? It's impressive you’re still among the living dead.”

“What can I say? My friendship is more precious than a few bloodsuckers to the old bastard. Ha! Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” And if not, I’m sure someone will handle me instead. Heh… There I go again, not valuing my own… life. Unlife? Whatever.

Elora snorted.

They entered a small tunnel on the edge of Blumwin. It was dug in parts of a broken wall that seemed to be rebuilt a bit further in. Quite the place for a ‘secret’ market, although from what Sunday knew until now there was nothing secret. With spells, talents, and creeps at every corner they knew even when he took a shit. Not that he needed to do so anymore. Perhaps it was why he was so grumpy…

Quite a few suspicious-looking people eyed them, but whether they recognized Elora or didn’t want to bother was left unknown. Each carried clothing with different markings that Sunday couldn’t read.

“The symbols tell us what they sell. That one means drugs,” she pointed at a bald dark man leaning on a large boulder filled with holes. “This one, slaves. It’s more of an advertisement really, since the market is not here. It’s to entice you to choose their master.”

Sunday frowned. He had seen only a few slaves in Blumwin, namely the goliaths. Was that what this was?

“We’re here,” Elora said. Before them was a shoddy cloth curtain, hanging over what was a hole in the ground. Two guards stood outside eyeing them warily. Elora paid a fee to one of them without asking any of Sunday and showed them some sort of a hand symbol. Quite resourceful for a rich girl.

Then they descended.

The steps were carved out of dirt and led to an underground clearing. There were remnants of walls and quite a few tunnels leading to various well-lit places.

Is this directly below the wall?

“The Council and the likes of the Baron allow this?”

“Of course. What is power without corruption? How do you think someone like me knows of this place? The Arcanum is quite unhappy with the spell sales, but the other two powers keep them in check. Monopoly would ruin the magi retainers kept by the Council. Even we have a few in our family. Arrogant pricks.”

“Why’d you join the Arcanum then?

“I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to build power without relying on my mom’s influence and my dad’s schemes.”

Isn’t this what you’re doing right now though? I’d have used the shit out of those connections if I ever had them. Then again, it's what I’m doing now. Should I call the Baron ‘dad’ next time?

Weapons, potions, alcohol, ingredients, and even clothes were sold everywhere around. It was like a shopping mall, which was apparently illegal. Sunday wasn’t sure what made it illegal, but it was probably related to taxation. Why else? Come to think of it his brewery was pretty illegal…

I should figure that out while they’re nice. Ah, I’ll make Savia do it for me. She’s got the charm for dealing with bureaucracy.

Elora led him to quite a large clearing near the old walls that had seemingly sunk underground, filled with guards and customers alike. It was hard to tell who was who.

“This guy is quite an ass, but he somehow acquires decent spells. One of the ones I keep in reserve is from him, and it’s bonkers.”

“You have a reserve?”

“Of course! I have seven spells at home!”

Sunday’s eyes widened. I should’ve robbed the place after bumping into her…

“Little Elora!” A booming voice said, making almost everyone reach for their swords. It had come from a huge guy sitting on the back of a large wheelless cart. His arms were thick as trees and his belly was like a barrel. All he wore on his upper body was a tad too small a vest for his frame. “Come to make me richer?”

Elora led Sunday over, opting not to shout over the crowd.

“You wish, Adib. This is Sunday, he’s here to peruse your stock and maybe some of the other sellers too. I vouch for him.”

“Oh? Fresh blo—a corpse? I haven’t seen your kind since I crossed the belt! What are you doing in this poor place?”

“Profiting out of misery,” Sunday shrugged. The guy knew his undead.

Adib eyes him, and even if he was human Sunday wasn’t certain he could overpower the guy. There was something about him… The guards moved closer.

“We’re alike then! Tell me, what will you do with the spells I sell you?”

What sort of question is that?

“Kill, maim, and pillage.”

“Sunday!” Elora exclaimed.

Adib burst out in laughter.

“Good! Come then, let me show you what the great hunters have brought me this time around!”

The man stood up and towered over them. He easily jumped on the oversized carts back and pushed the curtains apart, gesturing for them to follow.