The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

"Seriously, a beautiful day like this and you want me to drag you down to the gods damned library?" Bredic whined, and for what had to have been the fifth time in just as many minutes, "I haven't seen you in over two months! What gives?"

Blychert chuckled to himself.

He hadn't exactly expected the wizard to agree to this. After all, Bredic was a busy man, by all accounts. His apprenticeship as a spellwright seemed to be quite demanding for his time, given they hadn't been able to hang out even once since Bly arrived in the city. It wasn't exactly what Bly had in mind when he'd asked Xander to help him with his information seeking quest, who had instead recommend Bredic as a guide, even going out of his way to set the whole thing up. In any case, Blychert couldn't complain too much. He was just glad he finally got to see the fire mage again, whining and all.

"Remind me why you agreed to this again?" Bly asked teasingly, as the two of them turned off an alleyway and onto a wider throughfare, somewhere in the western section of the city.

It was a beautiful day, that much wasn't up for debate. Frankly, it was hard to believe that nearly this time a week ago, Bly was trapped still in a dungeon and fighting for his very life. The proceeding week had certainly been a little bit of a blur, his conversation with Nelkaar yesterday notwithstanding, though he was more than relieved to finally be up on his feet again, and more so out doing something that couldn't kill him for a change.

Besides, he had more than enough of a reason to be doing this now.

Bartolo was doing his part, after all, so it only made sense that Bly should do his own research and try to draw some of his own conclusions, maybe find some answers. He doubted Nelkaar meant for him to involve himself any further in her investigation into the dungeon and ley line anomalies. But if she really could see as much as she claimed, not that he would have been wise to suggest she couldn't, then she at least must have known her warnings would go unheeded.

He was a classless, after all, so he might as well stick to the shady archetype. At any rate, he was in too far now to back out. There were too many questions that needed answering, and Bly wasn't exactly known for being patient.

"Hey, you're not the only studious one around here." Bredic argued belatedly, curling his lip somewhat, perhaps to look more standoffish. Smirking, he added, "Not to brag or anything, but I am going to school in the spring."

Bly furrowed his brow, "Not to brag?"

"Alright, alright, wise guy…" Bredic grinned, before punching Bly's arm lightly. The wizard quieted for a moment thereafter. Bly glanced at him out of the corner of his eye curiously, still finding it weird to see Bredic so clean-shaven as he was. However, Bredic sighed softly, before saying in a more serious tone, "How've you been, anyway? And don't give me any half-assed crap. I heard about all that stuff happening in the dungeon last week from Xander. Shit's pretty crazy, just makes me glad I got out when I did. Still... I worry about you guys sometimes. Things are getting weirder and weirder around here."

"You're telling me." Bly nodded, as the two of them exited the thoroughfare and continued west down a narrower street, "I thought all this was behind me when I left Kelvalder. Turns out, what we experienced is happening all over Calvergia." Bly noticed Bredic's alarmed expression, and so he waved his hand in dismissal, "Not on the scale of what we faced, but enough to get the diviners involved. At least, that's what the Hall Keeper told me."

"You don't say…" Bredic murmured to himself. He looked far too serious for someone that liked to play it cool, as he added, "If Ulrich says it, it's probably not entirely without merit. First the cultists, then the giants, now we've got dungeon problems? What's next! Dragon invasion?!"

Bly chuckled a bit nervously at the joke, wondering if Bredic knew how on the nose he was, in a roundabout sort of way.

"You know, I overheard my master talking to a vendor of his about the ley lines just the other day." Bredic continued, scratching his smooth chin for a moment, as he added, "My bet is, the Hall Keeper's not the only one around here with something to lose in all this mess."

"How do you mean?" Bly asked.

"Oh? Thought it'd be obvious to a clean-cut sorcerer like yourself?" Bredic grinned casually, before shrugging. He unfurled one of his hands, as he explained, "It's like this, the dungeon is one of the foundations of Frostwall's economy. You take that out of the equation, marketplace dries up, and the merchants start to go elsewhere. The Silver Vault produces a lot of raw materials, you know. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that seventy-five percent of all quests issued through the Hall were of the crystal and material farming variety. That's how big a deal our dungeon is."

Blychert nodded slowly.

He didn't really see a connection between the entity he was chasing and Frostwall's economy, but he wasn't willing to rule anything out just yet. Still, whatever Kubranul had been talking about— abundance and preservation, and the likes—it seemed to have more to do with a conflict, a "great war" as he had put it, than anything else. And if the Pale Lady and this Ysh'balat, the One True Redeemer, were at the head of one side, then maybe what Bly really needed was to figure out whoever was on the other, the preservationist side, and try to see about getting in contact with them?

It sounded completely crazy, even to someone as open-minded as Bly liked to think he was. But he just couldn't get over that bit about the world being "overwritten" as Kubranul had put it. How would sage even allow for something like that to occur? It just didn't sound possible, no matter which angle Bly approached it from.

"Bredic! Trelen!" Lisel's voice carried across the open plaza all of a sudden, as Blychert and his accompanying fire mage approached from the southwest, "Over here!"

Looking up, Bly smiled as he saw Lisel and Bjadir waiting for them at the base of the wide staircase leading up towards a particularly spectacular looking building. It might as well have been a castle, and it looked the part anyway. Endless rows of windows, towers and intricate crenellations, and neatly shingled orange rooves sloping in all manner of directions. For a moment, Bly remembered a trip he'd taking to Greiling with Bartolo many years ago, and the magnificent library at the Arcane University thereof. He hadn't been terribly excited by books back then, only wishing now that he had.

"Morning, Lisel." Bly said, happy to see that the ranger's injured arm wasn't stopping her from spending the day out with them, and certainly for something as mundane as going to the library.

"Hi, Trelen." Lisel smiled back, before her gaze turned on the wizard, "Bredic, you're—uhm, I mean, you look… nice?"

"…Seriously?" Bredic's face drooped, unamused, "It's not that bad. I would have kept the damned beard if I was allowed to! It's not that bad, right? Bjadir? You wouldn't lie to me. It's against your code of honor. Hey, what's that face for...?!"

"This is just my face, Bredic of the—just Bredic." Bjadir insisted, more than a little confusedly by the looks. The half giant scratched his brow momentarily, before adding, "I think your face looks quite fearsome. Like, ah—a mountain lion cub ready for his first hunt."

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"Huh? That's what you think I look like? What the hell!!"

"Er—maybe not that…" Bjadir grumbled woefully. It was clear that he really was trying to be supportive of the wizard, though his common was failing him in the heat of the moment.

As the wizard harassed Bjadir for a more sufficient answer, Lisel giggled, and turned towards Bly, saying, "Xander wanted to come, but he had to work today. Oh, and look—" Lisel revealed her good arm, where upon a basket handle was nestled gently into the fold of her elbow, "I made lunch for us. I hope you don't mind venison. My father caught it fresh this morning."

Bly squinted amusedly, "So you did make it home, after all?"

Lisel let out a sigh, "Pa nearly marched straight into the city the other night when he saw my arm. I thought he was going to kill someone."

"Oh yeah?" Bly asked, a little worried by the sound of it, "How'd you get him to stop?"

"Well, that was easy." Lisel smirked, "I just told him if he made a big stink about it, I would never cook for him again for as long as I lived. That about shut him up, mostly…"

Bly couldn't help but to laugh. Despite her outward appearances, Lisel sure could be ruthless.

"Alright, let's get this over with…" Bredic groaned, "I promised V I'd stop by and see her later. Hey, Trelen? You should think about coming with me. She said Trel Trel hasn't been by even once!"

Blychert rolled his eyes, blushing only somewhat, "I was injured too, just so you know."

"Eh, she'll be alright." Bredic replied, as the four of them ascended the stairs. He snickered a moment later though, "Don't worry, my friend, I told her she was far too ugly for your tastes. Her being a hag and what not."

Lisel stepped on the back of Bredic's boot the moment the words left his lips, and the wizard tripped up the stairs momentarily.

"I'm surprised she let you leave with your head." Bly laughed, but shook his head, "I keep meaning to swing by, really, but there's been a lot going on."

"Would you cool it, Lisel? Sheesh, you'd think V couldn't take a joke." Bredic insisted, before changing the subject entirely, "So, what exactly are we looking for? Xander mentioned a few things about history? I don't know, I got the sense he was pretty clueless."

Blychert exhaled heavily.

Where to even start?

***

The library was much too vast for Blychert's needs.

For one thing, his angle was a little too broad at first glance. The histories and myths of Calvergia seemed like a good place to start, but the volume of text related to those topics turned out to be far greater than what he had perhaps been originally expecting. As a result, the ensuing reading session was more than a little arduous.

Secondly, no two texts seemed to even agree about what the supposed facts even were. As a baseline, Calvergia traced its origins back to a time before the Calamity. Although Bly's history knowledge was a bit lacking, even he agreed that made sense. Most of the major nations had risen from the ashes of catastrophe over five hundred years ago, Greygarde and Calvergia were no exception to that. And yet, the texts seemed to vary widely in terms of dates, names, and places.

The only real bits of information that Blychert found useful at all were the myths surrounding the Triskelion. Mortal heroes ascending to supposed godhood seemed like a good source for storytelling, whether they were even real or not.

Kyrdic the Hunter, Majnehl the Undaunted, Friirek the Farseer… there were legendary tales about their exploits, about their battles against ice elementals, giant thanes, sea serpents, and dragons, and of course no shortage of conflict between themselves and the ikseir chieftains of that age. And yet, none of their legends had much to do with what Bly was trying to figure out. He wanted to know about the Pale Lady, about the magic of Calvergia, and so on.

"Majnehl, wielder of Aevarne, the Frostwall, Watcher of the Wood…" Bly read the words out loud to himself, his eyes flaring with curiosity for a moment, remembering suddenly what Nelkaar had said to him. Turning somewhat, Bly asked, "Hey, Bjadir?"

The half giant looked up from the small wooden totem he'd been carving, perking his ears as if to say he was listening.

"Do you know what a… a watcher is?" Bly shook his head, wondering if he didn't just sound stupid, "Like, a watcher of the wood?"

Bjadir seemed to think to himself for a moment, before saying in his native tongue, "Alfyr."

"Elves?" Bly cocked his head to the side, even more confused now.

"You asked about the watchers." Bjadir shrugged, "The watchers are alfyr. But the alfyr do not leave their bloodwood, that is their wythaert. Not for many years, at least since the time of Sathlhen."

Wythaert? Bly pondered. He knew that word. It was an elvish word; he'd seen it in Bartolo's books back home. Something like a grove? Or an orchard? In any case, he remembered it because it was the only book Bartolo had back home that alluded to gods beyond the Divine, not that he'd believed in anything else back in those days. In any case, the elves of central Sulren worship a deity he couldn't remember the name of, but wythaerts he remembered fondly. They were supposed to be places of absolutely sacred power. As a young spellcaster, the prospect had fascinated him beyond measure.

Was Nelkaar really involved with something like that? With elves and sacred powers? If so, maybe her insights into him weren't exactly unfounded.

"And… this bloodwood is where exactly?" Blychert pressed the issue, "Say, if I wanted to go there for whatever reason?"

"Hm?" Bjadir looked at Bly as if he had said something insane, "It lies beyond the steps, far to the northwest of here. Though I would not recommend traveling through the lands of my people. Even if you were to succeed, the alfyr would not welcome you. My grandfather once tried to raid the blodvidr with half a warband. He was fortunate to have only lost one arm, and an eye."

Sheesh. Bly shuddered at the thought, realizing that was probably off the table.

"Here." Lisel dropped a hefty, weary looking pile of books on the table in front of Bly suddenly, which made him jump a little. She smirked, saying, "These are the last of the texts on specifically Calvergian myths. At least, that's what the librarian said."

Belatedly, Blychert scooped up one of the books, skimmed through it a bit, put it down, before repeating the process with the others.

Magical groves, mythical heroes, mystical creatures… he wasn't getting any closer to understanding the complex mythology of this land, and his eyeballs were starting to hurt. In any event, one thing was abundantly clear in all of his research today: there was absolutely no mention of the Pale Lady anywhere. It was like she didn't exist in writing. And yet, people seemed to know tall tales about her?

Just what in the hell was he was dealing with here?

Tired from the several hours' worth of reading, Bly slowly picked up the last of the books, easily the most worn out of the bunch, and flipped the cover over to the first few pages. Skimming a few lines, Bly murmured the words back to himself, before skipping to the middle, and then to the last few pages. He continued reading, ready to pack it in for the day, but had to pause immediately halfway down.

"Calvergia is home to myriad myths, each with their own distinct and otherwise deeply problematic ideologies. They are, in many ways, little more than manifestations of the abundance. False sources of inspiration and guidance, shaping the nation's identity for all but the worst. Should the people of this land continue down such a path, then reclamation cannot be left in their own hands. Such considerations must be shaped by the hand of preservation. This, as in all things, is how the Divine makes its light known."

Blychert quickly flipped the book back to the front cover, and settled on the first page, re-reading the title to himself.

Catalogue of Extraneous Calvergian Mythologies

Archbishop Caprenia, 467 DE

"The hand of preservation…" Bly murmured, his wary gaze settling on the faded, golden emblem of the Church of the Divine, just there on the bottom corner of the first page.

Well, it was something worth considering all of a sudden. But whether it counted as an answer or not, Blychert couldn't say. If somehow the Church was involved in all of this—

Wait, weren't they involved already?

That woman being here makes it seem that way. Bly thought to himself, steepling his hands as he pondered.

He'd been wondering what would cause the Church to send a Sister of Mercy to Calvergia, of all places. Despite his lack of knowledge about their order, one thing that was undeniable was their aptitude for violence. And what kind of a quest would the Church put out in a place like Frostwall anyway? That Gurogan fellow had rallied his party to head down into the dungeon, right? Which meant that maybe, just maybe, the Church also had some kind of an angle to play too. And if they were the body that represented the so-called "preservation", well… it would certainly give what happened to him back in Darskaart a little more perspective.

Had the administrator really seen right through him that day? As some sort of... spawn of something? Kubranul had said they were both "called" to the abundance. Maybe the administrators had seen something that day he didn't even know about at the time. Was the Church, the Guild, secretly at war with sage somehow?

Suddenly, Blychert was feeling very caught between a rock and a hard place, if not for any other reason than the possibility that his path seemed to be leading him straight back into the arm of those he'd desperately had to flee over a year ago.

"Come on," Bly stood to his feet with a yawn, smiling somewhat at the rest of his party, and just hoping he didn't look too freaked out. Tucking the worn book under his arm, he said, "Let's get out of here."