Solo Strategy

When we emerged from the man-made catacombs, it was already deep into the night. The head of the Assassins' Guild was the first to ascend, I followed, and the Man of a Thousand Faces came out last. As soon as I surfaced from the passage and inhaled the rotten slum aroma, I immediately sensed being watched. The observers themselves I couldn't spot, no matter how hard I looked, and was about to activate Shadow Player when the Twilight Weaver lightly, almost imperceptibly, nudged me and, catching my eye, shook his head.

This gesture made it clear that the feeling of being watched wasn't just my imagination, but there was no need to worry. It would be foolish to think that the heads of the city's shadow guilds hadn't arranged for cover. Perhaps the entire nearby quarter was cordoned off and tightly controlled by both thieves and assassins.

Not that I intended to escape anyway, and besides, even without any cordon, an attempt to flee against the will of my "new acquaintances" would have ended the same way—with nothing but numerous new holes in my body incompatible with life.

"This is all quite unexpected, sure," the Shadow Weaver said as we stepped onto the street, enveloping our trio in a Sphere of Silence, "and, most importantly, very useful. Especially for my guild." The assassin suddenly stopped and jerked me by the sleeve, turning me towards him. "But I have a question... How did an outsider like you learn details that we, the direct successors of the Night Owls, have never even heard of?"

The Man of a Thousand Faces frowned and even took a step toward me, but the head of the Assassins' Guild made a sharp gesture, indicating he wouldn't tolerate any interference.

"I have no secrets from such respected people..." The Priest of Seguna, realizing what was about to happen, smiled slyly, stepped back, and plugged his ears with his fingers. The Twilight Weaver, however, evidently too eager to hear my story, stayed close. "It's simple. In the Last Cycle, a man named Morpheus...

The Sacred Barrier set by the questers worked like clockwork—the seasoned assassin's eyes momentarily clouded over.

"Enough," not asked, but rather commanded the Man of a Thousand Faces. "And you too, Brother in Shadow." He pointedly stared at the head of the Assassins' Guild. "Even if he wants to, he can't tell us... Or rather, he can and does, but we still won't understand."

"But..." the Twilight Weaver tried to object, but was cut off.

"Raven may be insolent, but he is as much a Brother in Shadow as we are. And he carries the blessing of our Lady in his soul. A Brother does not question where another Brother gets his gold. Or information."

"He's the Sheriff of the Book!"

"And blessed by the Shadow," the priest of Seguna's voice hardened. "Are you sure you want a conflict? Not with me, not with him, but with the Lady of the Night Cool, whose will our new acquaintance has become a conduit for, returning to the Night Owls what was lost through the ages?"

"But you see it too—he's playing his own game that we don't understand," Twilight Weaver said, not as confident as before, releasing my sleeve.

"He plays his game, I play mine, you play yours. We are Brothers in Shadow. This is our essence. Moreover, note this: our new friend," and it was unclear whether he said the word seriously or mockingly, "asked almost nothing for his truly great gift."

"But how is that nothing..."

"These are all trifles," the Man of a Thousand Faces waved off. "The bracelet you found on the spot, which cost you nothing. The request not to take contracts on his elimination... Such a trivial detail isn't even worth mentioning; you don't take contracts on Brothers in Shadow anyway. And most importantly: he didn't bargain, didn't set conditions, didn't demand money, didn't task you with eliminating some royal lineage, yet the gift bestowed upon you was worth such a service. Or was it not?"

"It was," agreed the head of the Assassins' Guild.

"Of course, he's playing his own game. We know that. And he knows we know," smiled the priest of Seguna.

They talked as if I wasn't even there.

"If you have any grievances against our Brother," a whirlwind of shadows spun around the Man of a Thousand Faces, "speak now or forget them. Such is my word as a servant of Our Lady."

"No, I have no grievances against him," snapped the Twilight Weaver, "except one: he's too cheeky and thinks too highly of himself."

"The next time you feel like accusing someone of that, start with a mirror," the Man of a Thousand Faces grinned.

"Go to the Sidhe Woods!" the head of the Assassins' Guild snarled. "What to do with my mirror, I'll figure out on my own."

These two lived in the same city, both blessed by the Shadow, but now I could clearly see there was no love lost between them at all. And the fact that the Twilight Weaver listened to the Man of a Thousand Faces was not because he was a guild leader like him, but because he was the chief priest of Seguna in Feyst.

"Fine," said the Twilight Weaver with feigned indifference, shrugging his shoulders. "You go there," he waved towards the inn where I was staying, "and I'll go there." This time, he pointed to the ruins of the building we had just emerged from a few minutes ago.

Having said that, the assassin didn't bother with even a formal goodbye—he just spun around and strode straight down the center of the street, carrying himself like he was the master of this whole city.

Shrinking and shifting the Sphere of Silence to cover just him and me, the Man of a Thousand Faces shook his head, as if ashamed of his Brother in Shadow's behavior, then nodded at me, suggesting we continue. As soon as we turned at the first intersection, the head of the Thieves' Guild whispered with the air of sharing a revelation:

"Yes, our mutual acquaintance promised not to take contracts on your head, but as you may have noticed, he didn't promise not to kill you himself."

He didn't promise, true, but he wouldn't do it anyway; the Twilight Weaver wasn't the kind of person to cut down everyone he disliked, especially not a Brother in Shadow. Then why would the Man with a Thousand Faces say such a thing to me? Just as I was about to respond, I realized his motive. Of course, it was about the altar the priest had kept quiet about. Apparently, it was in his interest to make sure I left the city as soon as possible and stopped being an eyesore to such an inquisitive person as the Twilight Weaver.

"Around noon, the Ripple from my previous transition will end, and I'll leave Feyst immediately," I said, telling the pure truth.

"And if it's not a secret, where are you headed? Perhaps you need help? I can send a couple of trusted people with you. People who will obey your every command." Seeing my lack of interest, the priest of Seguna added, "Two Diamond fighters."

"Ah!" I pretended to have just realized why he was making such an offer. "I'm heading to the Patanga swamps for personal matters and a bit of Guild business."

"So, it's not a new search?" Dropping the pretense of being a warm and friendly uncle, the head of the Thieves' Guild asked me directly.

"Pf-f-f-f." Pretending to choke on my saliva, I even stopped and, shaking my head, laughed, hoping it came off naturally. "I'm afraid what I'll be looking for is of interest to me but not worth your attention."

"And what is that?"

The main thing was not to lie; he could surely sense blatant lies:

"The Earth Ring, one of my fellow countrymen told me where to find it." Actually, I had heard this story in the Last Cycle, but such a thing had indeed happened.

Not a gram of deceit in my words, all true; near one of the altars was indeed hidden such a ring, similar in properties to the Lightning Ring I already had.

"Wouldn't it be easier to buy one at the Deytran market?" inquired the Man of a Thousand Faces.

"For such a ring on the market, they'd ask a thousand, but a jump through the Gates to the Patanga swamps and back, considering my discounts as Ishid's chosen, would cost no more than four hundred." I rubbed my fingers together. "Six hundred in pure savings."

"Six hundred? You could have asked for ten thousand not long ago!" the head of the Thieves' Guild exclaimed, a bit too theatrically for my taste.

"I don't like asking," I grimaced, speaking the plain truth again. "The money I can earn by myself."

"I understand," nodded the priest of Seguna. "When I was young..." It seemed like he was about to share a story, but he abruptly changed the subject. "By sunrise, the one you asked about will be free."

"Wow!" I nearly jumped at the news. "I'd prefer him to be released after I've left the city."

"Don't want to meet your fellow countryman? I see, you don't. Well, it's your business. I won't even ask. I'm not as curious as our mutual friend." He lied without any shame.

I was sure that after freeing Dice, he'd definitely try to get him drunk and extract more information about me. Well... good luck with that. As for me, I preferred to be somewhere very far away by then.

Escorting me right to the inn's doors, the Man of a Thousand Faces formally bid farewell, listened to my equally obligatory polite response, and melted into the nearest shadow. Of course, I wasn't fooled: I was certain that until I left Feyst, every step I took would be watched closely. And any word I uttered would immediately reach the head of the Thieves' Guild.

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Heading up to my room, I barely resisted the temptation to stand by the window and deliver an hour-long monologue on who the questers were—just to drive the eavesdroppers crazy as they vainly tried to penetrate the Sacred Barrier. But at the last moment, I held back, undressed, and lay down on the bed with my hands behind my head. I had no intention of sleeping that night. There was much to think about.

And the first thing that truly unsettled me that day wasn't the veiled threats of the Twilight Weaver, nor the obvious curiosity of the Man of a Thousand Faces, and not even the unexpected reaction of Seguna's Echo to me. What troubled me far more was that the memory of the future was literally full of gaps, making it impossible to rely on it completely. Traps and levers I didn't remember—that's one. And two: I was absolutely sure that only one thief in Ain had reached the Mithril rank—the head of the Thieves' Guild in Deytran named Shiifu. But it turned out there was another—the Man of a Thousand Faces.

Then again, it seemed I was overthinking. How did I know that the chief priest of Seguna in Feyst possessed a Mithril rank? Had he told me? No, he hadn't. I'd learned it thanks to my Understanding of the Hidden ability, which allowed me to see people's true ranks. But how had the past me known about the rank of the Man of a Thousand Faces? From others' stories, from city gossip. And it seemed none of them mentioned Mithril. On the contrary, they said his maximum was the Reardane step. Which was likely a lie spread by the priest of the Night Mistress himself.

It turned out the memory of the future didn't lie—I just hadn't analyzed the information properly, taking the rumors heard in the Last Cycle as truth.

Alright, that was sorted out. But what about the unnoticed trap and levers? Were these memory lapses, or did Morpheus simply not mention these details to the past me? The trouble was, I had no definite answer to this question.

Trouble—because in the Patanga swamps, I would have to rely precisely on the memory of the future. And if it "deceived" me, I could end up as a snack for the monsters dwelling there. But postponing the journey through the swamps meant risking that the two forgotten Altars of the Night Sister in this Cycle would be found not by me, but by other earthlings. Could I afford that? No. So, I would have to take the risk and hope that this time, the memory of the future wouldn't spring any nasty surprises.

I tried to recall when exactly the altars were found in the Patanga swamps during the Last Cycle. Unfortunately, the information was quite fragmented. I remembered where the relics themselves were since I had visited them personally in the Last Cycle. But the story of how they were discovered, I only heard secondhand. And as today's experience showed, such retellings couldn't be fully trusted.

Nonetheless, even with such vague recollections, it was worth trying to find the altars first in this Cycle. Piecing together fragments of information dredged from the memory of the future gave me a good chance of success. Besides, even if I wasn't the first and the found sacred relics didn't count towards the task, visiting them would still be beneficial and might grant me new spells or skills. Even that would be significant. So, a trip to the swamps, even in the worst case where I wasn't the first to the altars, wouldn't be in vain.

Having made this decision, I felt calmer and switched to analyzing the past day.

Today, I brazenly used the memory of the future and, relying on these recollections, managed to involve the head of the Thieves' Guild of Feyst in the search for the altars. If it weren't for the memory of what kind of person the chief priest of Seguna in this city was, I would never have dared to act so straightforwardly. For example, if the Man of a Thousand Faces' colleague had been in his place—Shiifu, the head of the Thieves' Guild of Deytran—my plan would have completely failed, and most likely, I would have been buried in an unmarked grave right after pointing out the location of the forgotten altars of the Night Sister.

Practice proved that I made the right decision, and the memory of the future remained my main trump card. If I could have possibly found the first altar on my own, the second one was definitely beyond me. I might have even perished trying to bypass all the dwarven traps alone.

Moreover, it seemed I managed to find common ground with the chief priest of the Lady of Night Cool in Feyst. Naturally, he understood that my actions were driven not by altruism but by some unknown personal gain. Yet, this fit perfectly within his worldview. I was marked by Shadow, which meant, in his opinion, personal gain was always one of my top priorities. The fact that he didn't know exactly what this gain was didn't bother him much: after all, as far as he was concerned, I was a Brother in Shadow. And this meant secrets and mysteries were in my blood, as befitted those possessing an Affinity with Shadows. So, from his perspective, I behaved exactly as someone with my past and Affinity should. Yes, I'd spoken in half-truths, kept secrets, and been cagey about my motives, but ultimately—I was understandable to him. Because he was the same.

With the Twilight Weaver, things turned out differently. Firstly, the head of the assassins' guild's involvement in the search for the second altar was a complete surprise to me. But in retrospect, if I really sorted through all the details, the motivation was clear: by this move, the priest of Seguna made the Twilight Weaver his debtor. More likely, it was part of a much more cunning and intricate intrigue, the details of which no one was going to reveal to me, of course. Secondly, the assassin took a dislike to me, which could pose serious problems in the future. And yet, at the beginning of our acquaintance, everything was going quite well. The Twilight Weaver clearly liked how I carried myself—my ostentatious boldness and, though fake, confidently demonstrated fearlessness. But when he realized that I knew details about the past of the Night Owls guild that he, considering himself its successor, had never heard of, his attitude changed drastically.

What was that? Jealousy over the past? Paranoia flaring up? Or something else?

Ultimately, it didn't matter much. What was far more important was that he now regarded me with clear prejudice. And that was bad. Especially in light of what I remembered about this person from my memory of the future.

Sure, for now, the Twilight Weaver posed no threat to me. The reason wasn't that he felt obliged for my help in finding his guild's relic. Nor was it my status as a Brother in Shadow—I was sure his conscience wasn't burdened despite sending many such "brothers" to a premature meeting with the Lady of Night Dreams.

At the same time, he probably wouldn't dare to oppose the priest of Seguna, who openly took my side. Not out of reverence for the servant of the goddess—no. It was far more mundane. The Man of a Thousand Faces was stronger, more influential, and in this city, his word weighed much more. And those chosen by Shadow were typically pragmatic to the extreme. For such an insignificant—from his point of view—person, he wouldn't ruin his relationship with the chief priest of Seguna in Feyst.

But that was for today. What would happen later, how his antipathy toward me would play out in the future—I couldn't predict.

On the other hand, I never particularly liked Feyst. It might well be that I wouldn't return here until the Invasion. And that meant I wouldn't cross paths with the Twilight Weaver again. At least, not on his turf. So, perhaps, it wasn't worth giving too much importance to the fact that someone didn't like me. Even if this "someone" was quite powerful.

As for my refusal of the help that the Man with a Thousand Faces was ready to provide, was I right not to agree? Two Diamond fighters would have turned my journey through the Great Patanga Swamps into almost a leisurely stroll. Almost, because there were places where even a lone Mithril could lose their head. But that was where the advantages of such an escort ended, and the drawbacks began.

I'd have to explain how I knew the exact way and why I was so well-oriented in an area I'd never been to. And figuring out the fact that I'd never visited the Great Marshes before, at least not in this Cycle, for the head of the Thieves' Guild in one of the largest cities of Ain would be easy. Of course, I'd come up with something and talk my way out of it, but such inexplicable coincidences would still increase the distrust and wariness of the Man of a Thousand Faces toward me. Which I definitely didn't need.

Besides, in the Last Cycle, many earthlings were sent to the Great Swamps, so encounters with fellow earthlings were not out of the question. And in such meetings, the presence of two Diamond-Rank spies would be, to put it mildly, undesirable.

Another reason for my refusal was my reluctance to excessively empower the Man of a Thousand Faces. He already had three true altars! Not personally, but as the chief priest of Seguna in Feyst, he would have free access to them. And if he learned about the location of two more relics of Shadow, he would surely make arrangements to transport them to Feyst.

Of course, the Man of a Thousand Faces wasn't the worst of people, especially considering the path he had chosen in life. And he seemed to be a responsible priest, mindful that his Lady, besides thieves and murderers, also protected the poor and the outcast. Yet, handing over two more altars to him didn't feel right to me. I couldn't quite explain why, but my intuition suggested it, and lately, I had begun to trust it much more than before.

Realizing my thoughts were going in circles, I got up from the bed and, after rummaging through my backpack, brought out the bracelet of the Night Sisters repaired by Katashi. Then, I pulled out the second one from my belt—the one I had bargained from the Twilight Weaver.

The first comparison showed that the artifacts were very similar but not identical. One was designed for the left hand, the other for the right. And the pattern on their surface, when the bracelets were aligned in a certain way, seemed to form a more complete, cohesive design. This led me to believe that these artifacts were meant to be used together. Alas, no matter how I twisted and turned them, I couldn't figure out their purpose. It seemed they needed to be worn on a woman's hands. And not just any woman, but one who, like me, had gained an Affinity with Shadow.

I tried to recall which female earthlings in the Last Cycle received Seguna's blessing, but no names came to mind. The problem wasn't so much gaps in memory. Simply, no one in their right mind would brag about such an Achievement. So, I was sure there were such women in this Cycle, but finding them would be extremely difficult.

Maybe, until I found a suitable bearer, it was better to do with these artifacts what I did with Boundless Pride? That is, send them to the Artifactors' Guild safe?

That seemed like a sensible idea. If any of Antares' followers found out what I was carrying at the bottom of my backpack, I'd have serious problems.

Alright, I'd do just that. As soon as I got to Deytran, I'd head straight to the Artifactors' Guild branch and arrange for a new storage cell. Of course, I could rent a safe here, at the local branch, but I didn't want to tempt the Twilight Weaver. I was sure the shadow guilds of Feyst had their people among the local branch's staff, and they'd immediately find out I rented a cell.

Maybe I was being overly cautious, but I couldn't rule out the possibility that the Twilight Weaver might want to reclaim the Night Sisters' bracelet. The chance of that was small, but not zero.

As for Deytran, as far as I remembered, the shadow guilds of the trade capital were... let's say, not very friendly towards their "brothers" from Feyst. Just like on Earth, in Ain, criminal groups, having divided their spheres of influence, jealously ensured that no competitors invaded their turf. So, most likely, neither the Twilight Weaver nor the Man of a Thousand Faces had their spies and informers in the Deytran branch of the Artifactors' Guild.

I turned this idea over in my mind a few more times and added placing the two Night Sisters' bracelets in the safe to my list of immediate priorities. Then, I carefully wrapped the paired artifacts in black cloth and hid them at the bottom of my backpack.

I lay back on the bed again, but instead of indulging in another round of thoughts, I shifted to training. This time, I focused on meditative techniques, trying to fill the Stars in Mental. I recalled everything I knew about memory enhancement: both from earthly practices and from what I had learned from Morpheus and the local masters in the Last Cycle. I devoted not only the entire night but also the morning to this task, pausing only for breakfast.

Around noon, there was a knock on the door.

Opening it, I saw a familiar maid on the threshold. She silently handed me a folded note and, bowing, quickly hurried away.

"An hour after zenith, the Gates to the west are reserved for you."

A concise message without a signature. But it wasn't hard to guess who could have sent it. The Man of a Thousand Faces clearly wanted me to leave Feyst as soon as possible—above all, to ensure that under no circumstances, not even by accident, would I reveal anything about the altar of the Night Mistress found in the underwater cave.

As soon as I folded the note and placed it on the table, it burst into cold flame and burned away, leaving not even ash behind.