The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

"The cosmos is vast and unknowable in its immensity. Countless, innumerable planes stretching off unto infinity. Even the most seasoned witches and wizards would not risk venturing too deep into foreign planes," Scylla explained, watching the group with her strange and inscrutable gaze.

"Our plane, Adja, sits bordered by two planes. There is Promethia, an infinite and chaotic plane brimming with power and strange entities. It is regarded as the source of magic, and could be seen as a moon locked in orbit with Adja. The other, more infamous is the land known as the Bleak. I'm sure I do not need to detail it too much for you. An accursed plane, infested with demons and wicked beings. Think of it as a shadow to our plane."

Igrei regarded her warily, tapping his fingers against the edge of his tankard. "And Sheol? What do you make of it? I've studied the Bleak rather thoroughly, and have only seen that term used a handful of times."

"Indeed. It's an element that people know very little of. Demons and their ilk don't particularly like to divulge information on their world," Scylla said. "But I shall describe it simply. If the Bleak is the shadow to our plane, what is the shadow to Promethia?"

"Ah. A plane that they use to draw in magic," Pearl said, nodding. Then, realising the implications of what she had just said, she paled and darted her eyes to Essine. "So, she has... demon magic?"

"Very powerful demon magic," Coin said. Iago had been a sturdy beast, weathering the storm Coin had unleashed. The glow from Essine's hands had withered him worse than a flower left wilting in the desert sun.

Essine's eyes widened, her mouth agape. "Th-this one does not want to be tied to evil power!"

"Magic is not inherently good or evil. It is how it is used that determines whether is wicked or not. Is fire good or evil? No. It is the human hand that decides if the flame will be used to make bread, or burn a heretic at the stake." Scylla raised a hand as she spoke, a rippling shadow shaped like a flame forming on her palm. "The power is a part of you. How you use it is what will define you. But you strike me as a kind, well-meaning sort."

Essine frowned and turned her gaze to the table. She'd barely touched her drink, and that didn't seem like it was about to change. "How did this even happen?" she murmured.

"I can only assume, from what my spy witnessed in his fluttering and peeping. But if you were possessed by a phantasm, your soul was briefly entwined with those of a Bleak native. In doing so, he left an opening of sorts through which Sheol could be channelled into your body. This was, of course, unintentional. A side effect of his attempt on your life," she explained.

Coin thought back to that incident, the strange symbols that had glowed upon her fur. Magic born from Sheol, even at a glance, had an eerie quality to it.

Scylla carried on speaking, heedless of Coin's uncertain scowl. "If Promethia is a wild and chaotic plane, then Sheol is a quiet, cold, and dark place. Near equal in vastness, but so polar opposite in composition. Sheol is a plane of cold and crushing entropy, and magic born from that plane is similarly deadly. Blight that can kill most anything it is exposed to. I tell you this both for the safety of those around you, and for your own safety. Because in drawing power from Sheol, you may harm yourself too from the exposure."

Essine swallowed hard. She scratched at her arm uneasily, and even Pearl's hand on her shoulder did little to quell her nerves.

"This one... does not want this burden," Essine murmured.

"As many have said, when they learn of their own potential. Alas, responsibility is often thrust upon us rather than actively sought. This magic is a part of you, Essine," Scylla said.

Elijah managed a smile and leaned forward. "We don't think any different of you, lass. We're already an odd bunch, this doesn't change anything between us," he said.

Igrei had fallen silent throughout Scylla's explanation, his gaze fixed firmly on her. "How do you know so much about such an obscure subject?" he eventually asked.

The witch smiled. "I've had a long time to explore a myriad of obscure topics pertaining to the occult. And while many are ignorant to Sheol, and the deeper workings of the Bleak, there was indeed one culture who explored this plane in ancient times. I'm sure you are familiar with Elbrinth."

Coin furrowed his brow. "Elbrinth," he murmured. The word sounded familiar, even if it was a bit like the noise a human would make while sneezing. He perked up and glanced toward Elijah. "Oh! You mentioned a contract about Elbrinth before we settled on going for Lady Greatglow's delivery job."

Elijah's expression had grown grim. "I did," he admitted. "It's a place that makes Charnyll look like a flower meadow full of beautiful naked women," he added.

Coin assumed that was meant to be nice by human standards. But he was certain the hypothetical women would be uncomfortable, exposed to the elements, bug bites, and getting grass stains everywhere.

"An underground city. Well, city is perhaps an understatement. It's massive, spanning such a distance that nobody has ever accurately mapped it. To say nothing for how the interior is said to shift of its own accord," Igrei elaborated. "And those who built it vanished off the face of the planet centuries ago. A cursed, grim place."

"Indeed. But they understood magic in a way quite unlike our modern society, And all signs indicate that they studied Sheol, and the blight that shines from that cursed realm." Scylla trailed off and reached into her left sleeve. "But that is unimportant for now. I am here to talk about the practicalities of Sheol's magic, not ancient history."

Essine looked up from the table, sporting an expression like a condemned criminal peering through the ring of a hangman's noose. Knowing that her soul had become an entryway to an accursed and entropic dimension, and that this power could potentially kill her, did not put her at ease.

She swallowed harshly. "This one... this one does not know what to say."

"It is daunting, I know. But you need to be willing to embrace your own power, lest it be the undoing of yourself or anyone you're close to." She pulled out a small bangle, forged from a dark grey metal mottled with red and orange streaks. "Magic from Promethia is channelled via meteorite metal, which falls from the stars. And magic from Sheol, conversely, is controlled from metals pulled from the very bowels of the world."

She tossed it toward Essine, where it softly clattered to a halt. "Erebite, extraordinarily rare but seen as near worthless when compared to promethium. Take care of it. Use it only if you need it."

Essine took the bangle in her trembling hands. She nodded and mumbled her thanks, tucking it into a small pouch on her belt.

"How in the world do you have something like that?" Igrei muttered. The more he looked at Scylla, the more uncomfortable he became.

The witch ignored him as she rose to her feet, while the sound of the inn slowly filtered back into the room. "Well, I should be on my way. I only wanted to approach and provide Essine a little bit of necessary guidance. But, for now, I'll leave you all to your own devices."

"Thank you, Scylla. But, er, would you mind not spying on us going forward?" Coin asked, moving to stand.

Scylla offered him a cryptic smile. "Forgive me. I can be as sneaky as a mimic at times." A shiver raced down his spine.

He stood back to watch her go, and resisted the urge to follow after him. As much as he wanted to know how she had gotten from Wheat Valley to here of all places. But, for now, helping Essine was of a higher priority.

He downed the last dregs of his cider, which had grown warm and unpleasant, and held a hand out to Essine. "C'mon then. You've been through a lot, let's get you to bed."

"Yes, just what the lass needs," Elijah said, smiling at him.

Essine rose, resting her modest weight against his side. "This one thanks you, Coin."

It was as the group made for the stairs, letting Elijah take the lead to show them what rooms they had been given. After hearing what Scylla had to say, just about everyone felt tired.

But, in navigating the floor, a broadly built man knocked Coin's elbow in passing. The mimic jerked, pulling Essine closer to keep her from falling over.

He turned to glare at the man, who still had a froth of beer staining the dark brown follicles of his beard. "You," Coin growled. "Apologise."

"Piss off, rat lover," the burly man said, resting a hand on the well-worn grip of the cleaver on his belt. His face was beet red, a bleariness in his eyes. However much he had drank before, it was clearly too much for his body to handle.

"C-Coin, it is fine," Essine said, raising a hand and trying to ease his anger. It wasn't working.

His gaze was focused firmly on the drunkard. "Apologise," he repeated, speaking with a voice firmer than solid steel.

The stranger gripped his cleaver tighter. "You want me to split yer damn head open?" he growled.

"Borric!" Andea shouted from behind the bar. She fixed him with a stern glare. And such a look, from a trained housewife, was as dangerous as a sword in the hands of a master swordsman.

The stranger, Borric, wilted away from her glare. "Fine, fine," he muttered, stalking off back toward the hearth.

That night, Coin could not sleep. Even as the others slumbered in their attic room, the only thing they had access to on such short notice. And so, as the night bore on, Coin went outside to stretch his legs.

He found Borric outside, relieving himself against the back wall of the inn.

Once again he demanded an apology for his earlier crassness, and was met with more cursing and aggression from the drunkard.

Again, Coin grew insistent on the matter. He had decided that he would not sit back and allow people to mistreat Essine, or her kin, for what they were. He was met by the man drawing his cleaver and swinging it at him in a drunken fury.

And Borric, in turn, was greeted by an angry wall of flesh and teeth that swallowed him whole before he could do much as scream.

An unpleasant snack was a snack all the same.