NOVEL NEXT Chapter 132 - Choices
The work of erasing one's Class and presenting them with a variety of new choices happened in the quarters of a Questmaster, carried out in silence beyond the locked doors, kept from the curious eyes of a crowd who'd be eager to watch it unfold. The Questmaster that the Ashen Guild employed here in their city worked with the same principles, but interestingly enough, he used the local Resni's Tower instead of the Ashen Guild's own set of buildings.
Valens found himself at home once they crossed the mana gate of the tower, opening it with ease by flashing his badge over the watery surface of it. The same rich air welcomed them inside as an attendee rushed to meet them with surprising fervor. His first thought at the warm welcome was that the local Resni's Tower wasn't used to entertaining guests here in Ashen City.
"I'm terribly ashamed of my lack of decency, Master Valens, forgive me for not being quick to your welcome," the attendee said, a middle-aged man who worked as a Scribe here, round belly topped with a comically small bow tie, white shirt stretched tight around the bulges. His name was Tavren. He had a cleanly shaved face with a pair of glinting eyes, who gave him a much brighter welcome than the one he had in Belgrave's tower.
It feels good to be appreciated. These badges are really useful.
Valens nodded amicably as he placed the badge that represented his Master Mage status in the Resni's Guild back in his pocket, smiling down at the man, never giving much attention to Nomad's clearly uninterested face. Celme seemed like she was a tightrope about to break off, looking around as if the silent walls were rich in places where the dwellers could hide.
Selin, on the other hand, strolled on the tip of her toes, a nervous smile spreading her lips wide. Excitement and fear. That fitted her well, to Valens's thinking, since the woman would be changing her whole life soon enough.
"It's unusual for people like yourself to make a sudden appearance," Tavren said as they started their climb on a classically built set of spiraling staircases. "Often the case is that we would get a letter for their arrival and make preparations so as to keep them satisfied. You've caught us rather unprepared, I'm afraid."
"I have not yet grown into a Mage who announces his presence to every room he occupies to get a better standing. I find discretion more accommodating, especially when I'm out for personal matters," Valens said, earning a grunt from Nomad to the back and a blink from Celme at the same time. He ignored them. "Then again, I wouldn't mind catching up with the recent news if you're willing to share the talk around the guild."
"Why, of course!" Tavren rubbed his hands as he nodded rigorously. "For such a young prospect like you, keeping with the old customs should indeed be hard, but I'm sure you're well aware of the recent troubles in Belgrave."
"I'm quite informed about them, yes."
"Then you must know that the High Table of the Guild thinks this horrendous catastrophe will be the first of a long string of troubles fast approaching," Tavren said. "Similarly, all Kingdoms are in a state of alert after having witnessed the destruction in Melton. The High Table thinks the Caligians would use this to gather them all under their flag."
"Like an alliance?" Valens asked.
"More in the lines of a common pact against the Underworld and the Broken Lands," Tavren said. "Caligians were highly distressed by the inevitable measures the Sun's Church would take against the Underworld. The Ninth Legion will pay dearly for breaking the old codes, but to Caligians, this will only further fuel the flames burning underneath the Haven's Reach. That is why they're hoping to at least get the material rulers of the world to apply pressure to the Divine Orders' way of doing things."
"A foolish attempt," Nomad said from the back, a derisive smile on his lips. "Divine Orders will do whatever they want with or without the backing of the states."
"Ah," Tavren paused, sneaking a glance from Nomad and turning back to Valens, lingering as if he was troubled with the sudden interference.
"He's one of my guards," Valens assured him. "You can talk freely."
"Oh, I should've guessed. My mistake," Tavren nodded apologetically and went on. "But the gentleman speaks the truth. I'm afraid there's no other way for the Sun's Church to save their virtue after what happened to the Melton's Cathedral."
"What about the Broken Lands?" Celme asked, to which Valens drew in a long sigh.
If they were to be his guards, and this conjuncture demanded that sort of arrangement, then they should know better than to spew out every little word they could think of. Guards didn't speak. That had been the case in the Empire, and here, Valens didn't think it was different, at all.
Well, maybe I could be different. I could be the sort of Master Mage who sees his guards as equals, no? That shouldn't be a big matter.
"It's rather hard to mount a singular response to that question, miss," Tavren said. "We have over a thousand city-states built in Broken Lands alone, all scattered across the endless acres. A joint response from those willful organizations isn't something we can expect in such short time, but as of now, the Ashen Guild and the similar guilds close in proximity think nothing of this matter."
"Nothing?" Celme blinked.
"To them, an attack on the Haven's Reach matters little," Tavren nodded. "Here, they're used to facing the Shadow and its dwellers on a daily basis. Here, they live under the looming terror of the Dreads and their endless hordes. That a bunch of them managed to slip past the Haven's Reach boundaries and laid waste the capital of Melton isn't exactly breaking news. If anything, they're rather surprised that those boundaries held on for such a long time."
Interesting, but not unexpected, I'd say. Life here is chaotic through and through if you spend your time out in the wilds, that is. Once you see the true side of it, it's only normal for you to separate yourself from the willful ignorance of the masses.
That was only true for Melton, though, as far as Valens knew. Caligians took a more direct approach at acknowledging the presence of certain threats, and by the look of it, they were rather keen on taking measures against it, perhaps using this threat as an excuse to gather other states under their guidance.
It's convenient, isn't it?
Valens still remembered the time when Percival told him that the Caligians' sudden interest in sharing the Gate knowledge to all other kingdoms was followed by an unnatural rise in the number of Rifts. He, like many others in the Sun's Church, thought the Caligians had clues, or maybe ties to this matter in one way or another.
And now, they were planning to use this to gather more strength to their ranks. It was as though they knew this was coming, and wanted to prepare for it, but unlike their original plan, lending out the knowledge of Gates only proved to create a literal rift between the two worlds.
Valens had only spent a few days in the Broken Lands, here in Ashen City, but already he had begun seeing how little the people cared for Haven's Reach in general. To them, these dead lands had become their new home.
"Master Malrec is waiting for you inside the Masters' Chambers, in the third room to the left," Tavren said as they finally arrived at the third floor of the little tower. "I'll fetch his scribe to ensure the details of your appointment. I believe you had one, right?"
Valens gazed back at Celme.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"Yes," Celme answered.
"Good. And can I get a name as well? To whom this Class Change appointment belonged, I wonder?"
"Selin," Valens said, placing a gentle hand on Selin's back and pushing her slightly toward the front. "She is the one. The matter of payment will be handled by me."
"Excellent!" Tavren said, smiling widely at Selin. "You should count yourself lucky, little miss, for having acquainted yourself with such a promising figure. Master Valens here could be the youngest Master I have ever seen to this date. I'm sure we can expect great things from him in the future."
That means the knowledge that I'm involved with the matters in Belgrave is not as widely spread as I thought. Some of the Midnight Assembly members knew, but they all have strong sources. I wonder if Captain Edric did something to keep things under control?
It was a relief since Valens much preferred to stay away from certain eyes for now to not be subject to that sort of attention. He would rather remain as the mysterious figure who suddenly interfered to save the crowds.
For now.
"I know how lucky I am," Selin said sheepishly. "And I promise I won't waste this second chance."
"Nonsense," Valens said with a sharp frown. "We're not here to speak about the past. This matter is strictly related to your future. When you make choices, I want you to think this matter for yourself, unrelated to us in any shape or form. To live a life that is your own. That should be one of the Codes."
Isn't that right, Master? A life of one's own. That's what you wanted for me, right? That's why you kept everything a secret? Never said a word about you being a Surgemaster, that even an entity like the Mother of Venerable Fates knew of your existence. What lies did you tell me for reasons you've undoubtedly justified for my well-being, I wonder? How many of them slipped by my ignorant, young self?
He shook his head as Tavren delivered Selin to the Questmaster's attendee before accompanying them to a different room, one that was rather spacious, but ultimately far more sparsely decorated than Master Archibald's chambers in Belgrave.
"Anything I can get you?" Tavren asked when they were seated. "Perhaps you would like to try the specials of our modest city. Personally, I suggest you at least taste the Terrorblood when you're here. It has a strong kick to it, but you could scarcely find a similar wine with such strong flavors in the Haven's Reach."
"As always, the naming convention here never ceases to amuse me," Valens said, smiling at the man. "I'll take you up for that offer, then, Tavren. Thanks."
"My pleasure," Tavren said, and excusing himself out of the room, he closed the doors tightly as the sound-insulation arrangement of the chambers went active.
"You should keep your contact with the Resni's Guild fresh," Nomad said after a moment. "Don't expect them to chase after you. Make yourself known, and make them appreciate your talent. Show them a trick or two now and then. That's the only way you're going to get accepted into their inner circle."
"I thought I already did," Valens said, arching an eyebrow at him. Then he waved a hand at his newly bought robes, the sky-blue fabric of the heavenly soft cloth glinting in the room. "I'm being treated as royalty, as you can see, and I've been told that I'd be welcomed anytime should I decide to join one of their gatherings."
Nomad gave him a look, managing to look deeply disappointed before he clicked his false tongue. "How can you be so ignorant and talented at the same time? You can make a spell like Inferno sing, but you know so little about some things that it's getting painful."
"Enlighten me, then," Valens said. "That's one of the duties of a guard, no? Thinking of his Master's well-being?"
"You wish."
"I'm most certainly not going to take that dismissive side of you today," Valens chuckled. "We have decided to agree on keeping certain things to ourselves. I agreed to that, but you coming across as this mysterious, multi-faceted undead is getting old quite fast. Feels like you're keeping more than myself, I should add."
"I don't remember most of it," Nomad said, shoulders sagging. "And even if I did, I'm not sure if I can share them with you. Call yourself a master of spirit and mind all you want, but you've never gone through what I did. Most of what I could remember hardly feels like me. They're like the memories of someone else. A stranger."
"That's because your mind is trying to protect you," Valens said. "I know being an undead, you have your differences with the rest of the humans, but somehow, your mind works more or less the same. The response you're giving to your old memories makes it clear that you're dealing with rather ugly things."
"So I'm trying to bury them deep, you say?" Nomad didn't look convinced. "I'm not some twenty-year-old kid out for his first battle, Val. For all I know, I've got hundreds of years in this skull of mine, all twisted and crooked in ways I can't understand."
"Then you'll cut and divide them in pieces you could manage," Valens said, tapping a finger to the armrest of the leather chair. His gaze lingered on the brightly lit candelabras across the room, bound to little manastones cocked deep into the walls, turning into firemana through short circuits of spellwork. "I could help you with that."
"No." Nomad pulled up his right hand at him. "You're not going to poke around my stone. This ain't your business."
"Fine," Valens shrugged. "I was just trying to say that I'm willing to help, anytime."
"You've got a world to care for, Healer. Reckon that'll be enough to keep you busy. I can work myself just fine. No need for your pity."
Valens scowled as Nomad turned briskly to the side and stared off into the wall with no particular purpose. If that wasn't the sign of a man trying to hide bad things, then Valens could call himself a dancer and start twirling through the First Ring in silk slippers.
Still, he let it go. For now. He was doing that a lot lately, but for some things there was little to do when it wasn't the time. Right. He would just have to keep an eye on them for when they decided to resurface, and hope that he would be ready to take things on.
For fifteen minutes, the simple clock on the wall ticked on and off as they sat in silence. Fifteen minutes of painful waiting with an awkwardly introverted undead and a bored Berserker. Valens knew it since he followed every second of the clock like it was a mission given to him by his Master. Ever the dutiful disciple, there were times when he had made it his life mission to keep his Master happy and proud at the cost of his own health.
Then, just around when the clock decided to tick a long way across the sixteenth minute, the door to the room clicked open and Selin trudged in. Everybody rose while Tavren closed the door gently after making sure Selin got inside.
She looked troubled. Conflicted, rather, as if she found herself at a crossroad. That meant she got more than a single tempting choice from her Class Change. It was odd, as for the first time Valens saw someone without a class who wasn't a child. The system just showed her level, and nothing else.
She hasn't yet made a decision.
"Tell us," Celme broke the ice with a step toward Selin. "What are the choices?"
"I…" Selin muttered, looking hesitantly around her as if scared someone would hear a word from her mouth. She then went silent.
"What happened?" Valens asked. "What's wrong?"
"I…" Selin drew in a long breath, balling her fists as though gathering strength. "I've got three different choices, and nothing else."
"That's good, right?" Valens said, eyeing the others. "Three sounds nice. Seems plenty enough."
"Only three?" Celme muttered. "Are you sure?"
"Why?" Valens asked. It seemed like he was the only one here who got confused by this situation. "Should there have been more?"
"About twenty more," Nomad said, turning slowly to Selin and giving her a deep look. "I reckon all three of them are special classes."
"Yes," Selin nodded.
"And of those three, I reckon none of them are what you consider as good-natured classes here," Nomad said.
"Yes." Selin dipped her chin low.
"You've got three evil classes?" Celme's eyes widened. "How is that possible?"
"I-I don't know," Selin shook her head, teary eyes narrowing down at her little fists. Then, with surprising conviction, she snapped her head up and looked Valens in the eye. "At least one of them is a fire-based Class, Mr. Kosthal. That's a good thing, right?"
"Right…" Valens nodded. He had to, or else the woman would cry her eyes out here in the room. And it wasn't like he cared much for what was considered evil or not in this world. Yes. That didn't mean anything. Anyone could make distinctions on a whim based on a historical event that was more fabricated than a cloth processed in the Empire's factories. "Tell me its name."
"Um," Selin hesitated. "The name is a bit strange, but I don't think the class is too bad. The Questmaster said I could make it work unless I decided to show myself to the Divine Orders. If I did that, he said they would hunt me to the end of the world."
"He told you that?" Nomad snickered. "One more to the group, then. You've got nothing to fear."
"Can't be worse than betraying your own order," Celme said with a strong nod.
"Or finding yourself that you're from a long line of twisted Mages who played around the world before deciding to abandon it for good," Valens followed it up with his own touch. "As you can see, this group is a widely accommodating band of misfits that'd be happy to take one more."
"I'm relieved," Selin said, holding her chest with a hand. A nervous smile slowly crept upon her lips. "The class name is Pyre Witch. I'm told it's a Divine-rank class that has ties with an ancient order of Witches."
"Good," Valens nodded. "We need every little tie we can get."
"Don't tell me it's the Sisters of the Cinder Sigil," Nomad said.
"Oh, you know them?" Selin's eyes brightened. "Then I'm choosing it. It's the one that I want."
"Wait—" Nomad tried to say, but before he could complete his sentence, a blazing wall of fire had already covered Selin and stretched across the room. Nomad then slapped his own face, then turned with a long sigh toward Valens. "This ain't going to be pretty."
"What, fire?" Valens asked doubtfully.
"They're coming," Nomad shook his head. "The noisy wenches will be here soon."
Then a splitting, shrieking cry of hysterical laughter filled the room, rebounding from the walls and echoing across the place like it was coming from everywhere.