A Bright and Shiny Life

I stare through my window cracked open a finger width under concealment. I don't want to leave before Emily, though I'm starting to consider taking the chance. I assumed that she would have made a show of coming in for curfew (we are not to leave after sundown and must arrive before an hour after that) and then leave secretly, but I may have erred.

No wait, her window moves and out she comes gliding gracefully to the ground in a light blue dress that doesn't look particularly practical for whatever they're doing. Does her glance towards my window look guilty, or just worried that someone might catch her? No matter. I wait for her to leave the garden courtyard then leap from my own window to skulk after her.

She takes a direct path to the destination, which is good as she's running late. I suppose it doesn't matter that much to me since it's not likely they'll start without her. I make a point of staying a decent distance behind, but she doesn't even look back once. She's probably more worried about not seeming out of place than being followed.

Well, it's not like I actually need to follow her since I know the destination, but there's always a chance for a change of plans.

The cemetery is in a noble section just two away from the imperial palace, and security is as high as it gets in the capital with the exception of said palace. There are of course patrols stomping about, some of which even have a mage or squire with them, several of which we pass though they give Emily no notice in her fine dress nor me under concealment. I suppose that is the consideration for which she chose her outfit now that I think about it.

Most minor security however is handled by individual house guards and major security by teams of diviners positioned at some nearby location. These are of course the main effects of the different security levels: How often divinations are performed; who are allowed to privately employ armed guards (only nobles here, wealthy then less wealthy merchants elsewhere); how many guards are patrolling the streets at a given time. Interestingly nobles are actually allowed fewer guards than here in lower sections, while everyone else are allowed more.

They meet up at a pristinely clean and decorated fountained square near the cemetery. I'm slightly anxious to see if there are any more to their group, but am relieved when it's only the four I initially spied on. After all, the more people Ser Terry trusts with this the more my exclusion would sting. Three is bad enough but understandable.

There's a brief exchange that I keep myself too far back to hear. Probably asking if Emily and the boy have figured out which deity they'll be dealing with. From the look of things, I would guess that either they were unable to discover it, or the answer was worse than they hoped.

I follow them to the cemetery fence then curse as the squires boost the mages up over it and then leap after them rather than just use the gate like I hoped (the gate is closed each night, but as Emily is an imperial noble and dressed like one, she could have just asked for admittance). If I were them, I would wait in view of where I crossed over to see if anyone followed. They aren't me though, so likely won't think to do so, but it would be foolish to assume that.

The tomb in question is located slightly towards the left from here, so I go right a few dozen paces and cross over there to minimize the chance that they'll be looking. Unfortunately, this means I'll lose them for a bit, but I should be able to find them again shortly.

I can't help but shudder upon seeing the rows of white stone tombs. It's so wasteful. At least with commoner burial the cheap wood or even cloth of their confinement will quickly decay allowing their flesh to feed the ground. But in this noble lot? Tightly sealed stone boxes to ensure their flesh will never again mingle with their mother soil. What's worse is that most of them are in squat mausoleums above ground, providing a double barrier to the rightful return.

There are admittedly some practicalities in this method: mainly it allows for easy exhumation should a descendant require a divining link or other ritual ingredient. But storing a whole body is just excessive. The flesh especially as I can think of no uses for the meat of one's ancestors. It's mostly the bones that are useful.

The blood too, though that spoils. I suppose if they're worried about using them for rituals then the family can likely enchant the coffin for preservation, but it would be much easier, and cheaper, to just take a few vials on death and enchant those. A few organs too, now that I think about it. But again, just scoop them out and put them in magic jars.

Besides, how many people, even mages, perform these sorts of rituals? I cannot imagine it being enough for the entire civilization to form their funeral customs around it. If not for magical purposes, then why be so covetous of the flesh that they'd carve out so much public land for its keeping?

I feel a spike of anxiety shaking myself from my thoughts, realizing that it's taking longer to find them again than anticipated, but sigh in relief I hear Ser Terry's voice… then anxiety again when those words are "Why are you here, Ligryn?"

I peek around a corner and spot Ser Terry and Co. confronting Ligryn's lone figure leaning cooly against one of the squat mausoleums. The group of four, by contrast, are all tense: Sword hands on swords, casting hands splayed at the ready. It would appear that the group is even worse at keeping secrets than I thought.

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Ligryn regards the group with an amused smirk then locks eyes with Ser Terry. "I'm here because you need my help, of course."

"…And why would we need help from a page?" Ser Terry asks with an unnatural weight. As if he doesn't mean the disparagement, but wants her to believe that he does.

She laughs in response. "Have you figured out which god you'll be going into yet?" she asks causing uneasy glances amongst the group. Her smile turns wolfish. "You have, haven't you? Vanocaur. You need my help because if I come along, then he won't smite you."

Part of me reels from the implications of her claim; a majority of me delights that I'm not the only one with the reaction as evidenced by the shocked expressions in the group. It is rather satisfying to not be the only one who doesn't know what's going on since… well I guess this evening at the very least, though a few more times looking back.

The new boy speaks. "What the fuck you mean he won't smite us? Why not?"

She shakes her head sadly. "That secret is not mine to give."

Terry speaks, glancing to the boy with a hesitant silencing gesture. "Well, how did you even know about this then?"

She shakes her head again, but this time with a smirk. "That secret is not mine to give."

"Is," Terry starts, stops, then continues, "is how you learned about us related to why Vanocaur won't smite us with you?"

"…That secret is…"

"Not yours to give, right," Terry finishes for her. "Well, are there any secrets that are yours to give that are related to what we're doing?"

She glances to her side in consideration then smiles. "No."

I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing.

Emily steps forward as the rest glance questioningly amongst themselves. "Is it fair to assume though that you are aware of what we seek?"

Ligryn half smiles, half nods but stops herself midway and smooths her face. "You are free to make that assumption," she says, completely flat.

Ser Terry glances at Emily in gratitude for the insight then presses. "And I suppose you intend to use our quarry towards liberating Rohdam?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Ligryn says coyly, allowing her smirk to return, "though ultimately I decided that my homeland would most benefit if you succeed in your intended action."

"And how do you know what our intended action is?" Clara asks.

Ligryn smirks again. "That secret…" she trails off meaningfully.

Ser Terry Scowls. "Of course. But if you won't trust us with any secrets, yours or others', then why should we trust you at all?"

She cocks her head questioningly. "I fail to see how you have a choice. If you don't take me along, then I'll report you to the guards or, worse, your dorm supervisors. Unless, of course, you intend to gang up and attack a mere page? Besides, you know independently of me what god you'll be facing. It's not like I'd be volunteering if I was lying about him not smiting us."

The dorm supervisors may be unironically worse given that what they're doing likely isn't technically illegal. Rituals may be performed on public land so long as they are not inherently harmful, though a guard would likely require them to fill out a form describing what they're doing if caught. Likewise, whatever they'll be doing inside of the tomb will be in a god's domain, and so outside of imperial jurisdiction. In contrast, who knows what the dorm heads would do?

"No," Emily says, admitting to her point "but that doesn't mean he will smite us if you don't come."

"I never said he would, but I don't need to. You're thinking it all on your own."

They display subtle signs of worry and Terry looks to his comrades for insights. "Thoughts?" he asks.

"I say leave her," Clara says, stepping forward. "It's too suspicious, showing up out of nowhere, offering aid without even saying what she'll get from it."

"You didn't ask me what I'll get." Ligryn points out.

"Would you answer if we did?" Clara counters.

"No," Ligryn states as if she was expecting the question and is hiding great amusement from giving the answer. In fact, I would guess she's more than willing to tell them this detail, but declines purely because she, like me, delights in their frustration.

"Then that's my answer," Clara says, arms crossed.

"Noted," Ser Terry says then looks to the new boy, "Carlyle?

'Carlyle' shrugs. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I was really hoping not to get smote today – I say we take her."

"Also noted," Ser Terry says and turns to Emily.

She stands silently with her arms crossed, bites her lip in thought then says "Pass."

Ser Terry looks at her askance. "What do you mean?"

"I mean my vote is pointless. If you disagree the sides will be tied, but as the leader your vote tiebreaks."

"I don't need your vote, I need your opinion so I can better decide."

She sighs and shrugs. "Then my opinion is I don't know. I fully believe that she believes herself to be safe, but she has given nothing to suggest that her safety might transfer to us, nor reason for anything else for that matter. So, I don't trust her, but then again there's no reason to believe she's working for Bart given his alliances. So, if she is going to betray us and steal the prize for her homeland then there's no point in doing so until they're all collected. But then again perhaps she struck a deal or… Look, I have no opinion to give you. All I have are broken facts and conjectures, and we don't have time to go over them all. The simple matter is that we can't trust her, and we probably have to."

Ser Terry stares at her then nods in acknowledgement.

"We're running out of time to prepare boss," Caryle says.

Ser Terry gives him a 'one moment' gesture then turns to Ligryn. "You were rather aloof when we were teammates. Did you know about my involvement even then?"

Ligryn smiles weakly and shakes her head. "Sadly, aloofness is just my natural state. I knew about the existence of the prize, but not about the current movements around it. I only became privy to that very recently… What about you? Were you aloof because you know anyone you get close to will likely be drawn into this?"

"…Alright, we'll take you, but you better know what you're doing," Terry says in non-answer.

"Cool," Carlyle says, stepping forward,' but um, I should say I only brought enough ingredients for four. I can work five, but it might be dicey."

"I brought my own reagents," Ligryn says, glancing to a pouch on her side.

"Wow, you really do know everything," Carlyle says with a smirk as he walks past her towards the destination.