《The paper mage and the heart of rot》 0.1. The tomb Their lanterns illuminated the snow. It was untouched. They had gotten used to the ashes tainting everything, white snow turning grey before the heat of the furnaces melted it down to a sludge, mixed with the mud below it, so the pure white was a welcome surprise. Here everything seemed much more ethereal - before they left their mark on this silent corner of the world, starting with two sets of footsteps cutting through the beautiful white sheet. The buildings were half buried in the snow. Just the tops peeked out on some of them. The architecture was foreign to the pair. It seemed as though the shapes were soft in the middle but sharp on the top. Organic walls growing up to meet a harsh end. Pillars too lined the buildings, and upon brushing off snow, they were decorated too. Shaky lines were carved into them, running up the pillars to end in a hole. The shorter man of the two glanced back to where they came from. The shadows swallowed their footsteps, and painted grey trees against a pitch-black sky. Howling winds made the trees dance gently, along with powdery snow that hadn¡¯t frozen into heavy clumps just yet. He wanted to take note of the ornaments he¡¯d spotted, but the wind surely would make it too difficult - and they weren¡¯t what he was looking for. The two went further, keeping their steps light, making sure their tools wouldn¡¯t clink against each other. The large man''s eyes were glued to the ground for the most part - looking for stray branches, ice, anything to disrupt them. He looked up every now and again. It was when the large man spotted the building they¡¯d been searching for, that he had to choke down an excited noise, and pointed to it in silence. He recognized it from the short man''s explanations. It wasn¡¯t precisely as he had explained, but close enough. Tall winding pillars surrounded the building, ending in long spikes. They snaked around it, and marked the entry to the low tomb. They couldn¡¯t fight off the excitement entirely - it marked their hurried steps, the energy with which they took out their shovels and began to clear the entry. The large man grabbed the icepick from his belt, and made an effort to break up the frozen layer of snow until the short man signalled for him to stop. He took out a book of many papers, flipping through them to find the correct one. The pages were unmarked, they all depicted strange symbols - each forming a circle. The paper he ended up choosing seemed to have a multitude of copies in his collection. It had a circle of symbols, plenty of arrows, circles and shapes. He placed the paper on the snow and in the middle he placed a lighter. Scratches marked its metal exterior. Beyond the shallow scratches, there was one deeper carving. It shared similarities to the symbols on his page. He lit the suffering thing, and then placed the final stroke on the paper. As he placed that final stroke, the light was snuffed out immediately. The paper warmed instantly, but the lighter went ice-cold. The snow beneath the paper received all the heat. The snow melted quickly, softening up the ice around the pillars. But the water made his paper soggy and the ink ran. With a satisfied hum and a smile beneath the mask, the short man put away his lighter and crumpled up the soggy paper. The large man got to work with shovelling. The short man tried to help too, but felt himself to just be more in the way. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. At last, softened with the heat, the snow was easier to move, and their ice-picks remained untouched. They uncovered a trap door, that wasn¡¯t horizontal - it was laid on the ground at an angle. Perhaps to keep the snow off, the short man thought. The large man only saw that the door was frozen shut, and before the short man could lay out his papers again, he simply broke it open. Forced the old hinge to snap, the ice had made it brittle anyway. Though the short man wanted to rush in at once, the large man signalled to stop with his hand. He went in first, hand on his claymore still in its sheath. The shorter man followed closely. The inside was surprisingly devoid of snow. The air was stale - they could smell that even through their masks. The wind instantly started to whistle and blow through the inside of the tomb, but it was far quieter than it was outside. The light of the lantern fell upon the ground first. The floor was tiled. A mosaic out of the tiles showed a picture of a horned snake with 7 heads. Wavy lines led to the many heads, black eyes and markings on a green body. Beneath the snake laid a dark red background. The large man had to think of fresh blood, but the short man only noticed the intricacy of its scales, represented in thin golden lines decorating the body of the snake in a repetitive pattern. Beautiful handiwork, he thought. 7 beds of dirt were placed into the tiles, frozen remnants of what the short man could only think to be mushrooms littering the fields. He stopped to examine them excitedly. Though the large man wanted to stop the short one from roaming so far into the tomb right away, he had to sigh and place his anxieties aside. He ventured further into the room as the short man crouched at the fields of dirt. He gingerly broke a cap off its stem and lifted it, examined it from all sides. He recognized gills on the underside of its cap. Mushrooms, indeed! Meanwhile, the larger man went to explore the rest of the tomb by himself. Dozens of pillars obscured the walls. They seemed to be in a geometric pattern, making the room seem infinitely large, yet claustrophobic. As if a monster might spring out from behind the pillars, the large man thought, gripping his claymore. The short man walked through the pillars as well, abandoning the 7 fields. He took a closer look at them. There were 74 pillars overall. Each of them had carvings akin to those the short man had found outside - except these were in stellar condition. The same holes, the same slithering lines. Now he could see the intricate design carved into each. Scales within the lines - it seemed the pillars too held snakes, the way the ground mosaic did. They were not identical, each scale pattern was ever so slightly different. It seemed the artist attempted to recreate the same pattern, and yet their human hands refused them. He ghosted his gloved fingers over them, trying to understand any purpose for them. After crossing the forest of pillars, he found the walls of the room. He found comfort in the dancing shadows and lights of his companion, wandering through the pillars alongside him. ¡°Clear¡± the large man whispered to him, when they passed each other. The walls of the room had fireplaces, the short man thought they might be connected to the pillars outside, acting as chimneys, perhaps. The fireplaces had long burnt out, leaving behind only a grimy residue of smoke on the inside of the walls. The soot hid parts of more carvings, running along the walls. As his companion moved to the wall on the other side of the room, the forest of pillars began to make him feel uneasy - as if something was watching him, hiding just out of his sight, in the shadows his lantern painted. Shadows of pillars, against even more pillars. He fled the creepy edges of the room, back into the centre. Just then, watching his step as not to step onto a bed of dirt by accident, he noticed it. A series of symbols etched into the tiles. 0.2. Back to the surface The ring was far more complex than any he¡¯d seen so far. Some symbols he recognized anyway. He couldn¡¯t see all of them at once, they disappeared just out of his grasp, back into the shadows. From the curvature, he assumed, they might circle the beds of dirt in the centre of the room. It seemed to be four clauses - not separate, all consisting of similar shapes. It was one symbol in particular that excited him. He forgot to breathe for a second. The short man placed his lantern on the floor and kneeled down. He ripped the journal out of his bag, and started copying it down - careful to match each stroke. It was almost symmetrical. A circle, almost like a half moon, vertical lines, 7 spikes in the middle, 4 spikes around it. 6 X''s marked below it. He traced his gloved fingers over the grooves in the ground that spelled out the symbol. A dark brown dust clung to his glove. He pulled down his mask and smelled it. The distinct metallic smell made him recoil with disgust. He shook his glove out away from himself and placed the mask back over his face. The large man kneeled down close to him and whispered, "Found something?" "Yes, actually." the short man answered, "Something very good. I''ve not seen these symbols before. It could be a breakthrough for my alchemy." Even through the goggles the short man wore, the large man could see how wide-eyed his companion was. He put a hand on the short man''s shoulder. "Good." He stood to leave the short man alone with his work, and as he turned away he heard the short man say, presumably to the symbols themselves, "Now what exactly do you want to tell me, hm?" The large man could hear the smile through his voice. He finished off the statement with a breathy chuckle. Vertical lines separated four phrases from touching. The circles marked the origin of the spell. The symbols around the circle specified the location, the alchemist thought. A common way to determine places for teleportation - as common as they come in lost arts. He checked his maps. He followed down the lines. Maybe it was a portal? But if anything, it''d be close by - that made no sense. They could just walk. Maybe to make sure nothing could come here? Maybe it''s this circle specifically? It wasn''t to leave. It was to keep them safe. Safe from... the rot. It was odd. Such a complicated symbol for something so simple. Daios had to think of stories he''d been told as a child. When Proznia still was a neighbour to the rest of the world. When deities roamed the wastes rather than monsters. And when there was something other than night¡­ When the darkness and cold passed regularly. The stories told too of a monster beyond the snow. A beast of many heads, a rotten monster of a god. The rot. The sick. Arratoria, king of disease, ruler of the rot. He copied down the complicated symbol carefully. They returned to the surface. In the short time spent in the tomb, they forgot about the push and pull of the wind - but the wind didn''t seem to care about this. The alchemist leaned against it when walking. He tugged at the larger man''s sleeve and when he turned, whispered to him, "We should look for a clearing. I''ll bring us back to Zerwa." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Why not straight to the order?" "I... Hm. You know." He hummed, avoiding the gaze of his companion. "I don''t." "I just¡­ Haven''t yet figured out how to do the teleportation without taking all the snow with me¡­" he mumbled, crossing his arms and looking anywhere but the large man''s face. His eyes fell on the hinge of the lantern. Still, he felt the gaze of the large man burn on his face. A moment passed and silence spread between the two. "Daios." "I..." Daios stopped, a frustrated sigh escaping him, grasping at straws, "wanna see the trains anyway! I''ve not been on the trains for so long!" Daios declared, a faux confidence shivering through his voice, then turning his back on his companion and wandering off. The large man sighed, "Fine." he said and followed the alchemist. They walked away from the ghost town. Daios for once went first, waving his lantern around, skipping a little each step. In his mind, he repeated the phrases he''d read earlier. The larger man walked behind him, watching the edge of the light. His eyes swept over the dense forest area. Snow clung to the sides of the trees even. Sometimes he did miss the soft, broad-leaved trees of his homeland. He imagined how nice it would have been for a younger Daios to play in the soft leaves if fall had ever come. The line of evergreen trees opened up for Daios and he walked into an open area. The black sky above and the white snow below. The alchemist made sure to not disturb the snow where he wanted to make his circle - and so he hopped into the centre of his envisioned alchemy-circle. He took a blackened stick of wood out of his bag, singed at the end with his beloved lighter, and began to draw into the snow. The large man stayed behind. He watched the alchemist for just a moment. So far everything was peaceful on their trip, but in the back of his mind there nagged an anxiety. He shifted from one foot to the other and looked around. The noise his boot made on the snow felt off in itself, as if he was an intruder in the territory of someone else. He was unable to tell whether it was just anxiety, or whether it was his magic kicking in and alerting him of future conflict. He wondered still, until his question was answered - by that all too familiar crunch in the snow and breathing that sounded like it might be from a living thing. He saw it, lurking behind Daios. The alchemist was deep in thought, glancing between his page and the snow, and didn''t notice it. It stood over him, hulking over the smaller alchemist. And so the large man rushed in, he made sure not to step on the intricate circle, but rather run around it, his sword drawn immediately. This, Daios noticed right away. With a squeak, he stumbled, almost destroying his own work. He watched for just a second as the larger man rushed to the beast and knocked it back with his sword. It was a beautiful sight. All the beasts were. The black liquid, shimmering as he thought a night sky should, dripped from it onto the snow. The hunger, the corruption, the consumption. It burned through the snow. The beast appeared as a marionette. It hardly moved like a living thing, it hardly moved as something with its own will. Its limbs creaked, its bones refusing the motion. It breathed like it didn''t need air, but remembered the rhythm from long ago. It moved on four limbs - hard to say if they all were legs. And now its gnashing teeth latched onto the sword of the large man. Daios'' hand itched toward the small knife on his inside pocket. Instead, he focused on his page and on the circle. He continued his work with a shaky hand and quickened breath. The large man tried to shake the beast off of his claymore. Its claws reached for him, almost touching his face. He kicked it, felt bones crack against his boots. He struck down, his sword connected with its body. He heard the splashing of its blood against his glove, but didn''t feel it against his skin. The sword broke through its ribs. The cracking noise ran through the clearing, Daios felt it shudder down his spine. But he was done, almost. He pulled at the larger man''s arm. As Daios placed the last line, reality shifted around them, the larger man fell into the circle. With its gaping ribcage, the beast gathered itself up and jumped at them. Its claw grazed the edge of the circle, and on the other side - a well lit area with the stench of smoke in the air - the cut-off claw fell into the snow alongside the warrior and the alchemist. 0.3. The train Reality shifted around the two. The movement of it all lasted no longer than a second - when their vision stopped swimming, their surroundings had changed. The large man, not having stood entirely still as they¡¯d moved, continued his fall. Daios attempted to catch him, but simply fell with him. He fell face-first into snow. He took the moment to catch his breath. The air here felt noticeably different. Thick with smoke, it didn¡¯t go down as smooth and easy as the air out in the woods. They¡¯d almost gotten used to the clarity. Back at the tomb, Proznia seemed so quiet, but even a 10-minute walk outside Zerwa, he heard the muffled thumping of machinery. Daios turned his head, and looked at the snow next to him. The symbols were still there. The snow here looked grayer, flecks of ash and soot clung to it. The snow back from the clearing was pristine. Not for long, Daios thought. The large man got up first. He brushed the snow off of his heavy cloak and then leaned down to offer a hand to the alchemist. The offered grip was strong, Daios felt his hand to be just a little crushed when he stumbled back onto his feet. ¡°Thank you for keeping watch back th-¡± Daios was interrupted by the other, ruffling through his messy hair, which had accrued a lot of snow, and the other pulled his hood back up for Daios. ¡°Mhm.¡± the large man answered. ¡°DAD-¡± Daios snapped, hesitated and then corrected himself, ¡°Xalis, I mean. Appropriate work-, it¡¯s not appropriate work uh. behaviour.¡± pulled his hood closer and took two steps back. Xalis gave a relaxed thumbs up. The alchemist turned and began to kick the snow away where any symbols remained in it. He preoccupied his hands with stuffing them in his pockets, and Xalis followed suit with smudging the alchemy circle. The claw in the snow caught Daios¡¯ eye. It was cut clean off, leaking ever so slightly, that beautiful shimmering corruption. He carefully placed it in a metal container, making sure not to let the liquid dripping from it touch his skin. They started their trek to the mining town. In the distance, behind it, he could see the mountain range that framed the cities and settlements on Proznia. It was dark, but lights alongside and in the mountain hinted at its hulking shape behind everything. Zerwa was mostly underground. It could be mistaken for a simple hill covered in snow, were it not for the light that shone beneath the doors of the settlement, the dull thumping of machinery, and the chimneys continuously producing black smoke. The chimneys stood straight into the air, mirroring the poles upon which the train tracks sat. The trains hung straight down from the tracks. Their velocity often dragged the snow below in their direction, despite not touching it at all. The station at Zerwa consisted of tall platforms on flimsy frames. They creaked slightly in the wind. There were no seats. There was hardly any covering. Next to the platform, away from the tracks, was a small hut. Against the side of it leaned a shovel. The hut seemed to be that of a signalman. Xalis walked over, and knocked on the window. The signalman took his time getting up. The door creaked as he swung it open. ¡°Morning.¡± the signalman grumbled. ¡°Mh. Next one to Alberre?¡± ¡°There¡¯s some cargo passin¡¯ through in about 10 minutes. That¡¯ll take ye there. Given you¡¯ve got the cash.¡± He said the last part as though it was a taunt. Eyeing the large man wearing a dirty cloak, who held his heavy weapon, and behind him the messy, scrawny alchemist. Daios fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. The crimson fabric was thick, but even that had started to fray in places. He should probably fix it soon, he thought. Xalis didn¡¯t respond. He simply opened his cloak to show the signalman a metal sigil. It was shaped as a four-sided star - surrounded by plenty of delicate ornaments. The sigil was scratched and aged, but the signalmans eyes did widen for just a second. "Right on¡­" he added, the taunt having faded from his voice. Mechanically, not with vigor or laziness, he turned and flipped a switch. A tinted orange lamp flipped on at the tracks. ¡°Go on and wait at the platform.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Thank you.¡± The platform creaks even more as the two climb the stairs. Daios had turned the wheel at his boots, they folded in the spikes coming out of the soles. His proud invention sometimes did deface nice floors, when he wasn''t careful enough. ¡°Soo he wasn¡¯t in a good mood¡± Daios whispers to Xalis. ¡°No reason for him to be.¡± ¡°That¡¯s sort of depressing. I¡¯m sure he has lots of things to look forward to! Maybe there¡¯s some nice coffee in the Zerwan cantinas!¡± ¡°With how slow he was moving?¡± ¡°Mhhh¡­ That¡¯s why it¡¯s looking forward to? Hasn¡¯t had it yet, I suppose.¡± The lights of the train could be seen from a distance. It roared as it approached - it was anything but lively. It screeched to a halt before them. It hung from the rails, its body sharp and uninviting. The smoke coming from it didn¡¯t help to soften it. There was a hallway on the outside of the train cart, attached as a balcony, with a thin metal railing. No place to be when it moved. A door swung open at the sharp front of it and a conductor stepped out. She walked to the back, where Xalis and Daios had stepped on. Their interaction was easy and professional. She wanted papers, Xalis showed her the sigil from before. Daios hid behind him. In response, she led them to a cart of the train that had once been for transporting passengers. Lucky for them, or else they''d have had to choose between sitting with cargo or with the quiet conductor. This time, the thin hallway was on the inside of the cart, and while Daios was walking through searching for the right department for them to sit, the train began to huff and screech and then move again. The department he located seemed to be the cleanest, with the least cracks in the window. They had a department to themselves. It was relatively small, 4 seats facing each other. Each of the seats had been upholstered long ago. Now the fabric had faded in its colour, stains and tears marking it. Daios looked it up and down excitedly- checking the section for luggage (empty), trying the window mechanisms (stuck). There were only 2 depots for luggage above the seats, secured by a net. While below the seats, there didn¡¯t seem to be any space. Between the seats there were armrests, overall 6 though they were all folded down. The rusty mechanism whined as Daios tugged at it. The armrests (functional) were made of metal - but the heat of the train gave them a comfortable temperature. He tested the floor and ceiling panels (immobile). Xalis watched in silence, amusement tugging at the side of his mouth. Daios sat down with a start, making a small twirl before practically throwing himself onto one of the seats, right next to the window. He looked at Xalis, waiting expectantly, and cleared his throat. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve-¡­ sufficiently inspected it!¡± ¡°Right.¡± Xalis responded and sat on the opposing side. Xalis shifted in the seat, placing his sword next to him, leaning back and closing his eyes. Daios watched the outside moving by. There were no trees here - the rocky mountainside was blank with snow. The train moved above it all - the sharpness softened by a layer of snow. There was nothing out there. Daios turned his attention back to Xalis. The gladiator had his eyes closed. Due to his tall stature, his head didn¡¯t rest on the actual headrest, but instead laid against the wall behind him. ¡°Soo... There were mushrooms in the tomb!¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°Like I didn¡¯t wanna dig them up - feels disrespectful - but you know it¡¯s just super interesting and whenever you¡¯ve brought them back from your trips with Asphodel they¡¯re so tasty, but I don¡¯t know if these are tasty they might have been poisonous. Though if it was a panellus and not a pleurotus osteatus then the stem would¡¯ve been yellow, and it wasn¡¯t it was white, so it should¡¯ve been fine but also can¡¯t be too sure maybe the illustrations I saw weren¡¯t great that¡¯s totally possible you know-¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bit concerning honestly because like I know you could grow them from the remains of people and that¡¯d be prettyyy messed up. But also sure it¡¯s a tomb so what can I even expect like maybe that¡¯s also disrespectful actually¡­ Anyway I just thought like it¡¯s fun because if you think about it the deity of the tomb he also is all about like death and decay and all that and so the mushrooms make plenty of sense! It¡¯s so fun how they did all of that, and I wonder whether the number of pillars is significant? I counted 74, but I can¡¯t remember that coming up in any of the tales I¡¯ve read. I should check again actually I might¡¯ve missed something¡­¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°The buildings were also really fun to look at! So round and soft you know, and the decorations reminded me a little of the cathedral, but also I¡¯ve not seen those shapes before in architecture? So I was wondering if maybe there¡¯s a reason why it¡¯s so much more round and organic, and it could be that in the place of that deity is like that? But also the pillars are good for putting stories, so maybe that¡¯s that and like I think I¡¯m gonna get pretty far with what I wanna do. And like I got all these fun symbols should be helpful with fighting disease and boy do we need that!¡± Time passed by. The ramblings of the alchemist never interrupted by Xalis for the remainder of the journey. He was listening, he¡¯d swear. A few minutes outside Alberre the scenery already began to change. The bleak emptiness turned more and more into single houses, some of them dwarfed by the piles of snow on top. Not all of it was lived in, it was hard in the outskirts. Then came the city, a sudden density of life and detail. There were people moving around, through the smoke. The city was layered, platform upon platforms, buildings climbing up the mountainside. Finally, they had returned. 1.1 - The city. Alberre was unchanged from when they had first left. Oldtown towered over the rest of the city in the distance. It clung to the side of the mountain. At the very top of it all sat a broken down cathedral. It wasn¡¯t lit up. Instead, it was an ever so slightly lighter shape against the black sky, easy to miss. Daios knew it was there, and he couldn¡¯t help but look at it - he didn¡¯t know if he imagined that he could make out the towers, the crumbling edge of the roof, where it had caved in so long ago. He supposed he did imagine it, nothing much was to read from the vague shape against the sky. The light pollution from all around them made the shape even harder to read. Furnaces littered the city, but the most important one rested inside an abyss - it was burning night and day and kept the city a liveable temperature. It sat right there at the base of the central train station. A giant hole in the ground. Alongside the walls of the hole were walkways and doors, houses peeking out of the rock. Rails hung over it, at different angles. The inner-city-trains would rush by every few minutes. The abyss rattled and sparkled, bustling with life. It looked similar to the corruption. It looked beautiful. Daios and Xalis walked by the edge of it. The walkways were secured by a metal railing, a warm light streamed up. When one looked over the edge, it sparkled back beautifully. It gleamed from below, you could see the air above the furnaces jitter with heat. Below, the world was harsh and straightforward. The buildings mostly consisted of right angles and gray stone - much of it was soiled in black, smudged soot. But against the darkness there were a million tiny lights. Lamps and lanterns, hanging from wires or attached with metal. There were tiny bits of magi-tech, filters and fans, it was cluttered in luxuries. Whether it was the height, that dizzied him, or the fumes streaming up - he couldn''t tell. There was no way to lean over the railing for too long anyway. However, the fumes did give the scene below a dreamlike blurriness. He came away from the abyss, back from the dream. He had to. The plateau in the middle was different. It was a mixture of the old style - all decorations, little function to it all and the new - all simple, easy-to-take-care of shapes, functional and strict. The old buildings were all more run down. Few people wanted to take care of them. There were ruined etchings of the old rulers. Now her face was slashed and her followers¡¯ likenesses shattered. There was no glory for the history of Alberre nor for that of Proznia itself. The new architecture stood out against the flimsy rest. It stood bombastic, nothing could knock it over. Brutal blocks of stone, all straight lines and barren walls. Still, it was better taken care of, so next to the ruins it looked brilliant. The buildings all huddled to the centre, they all huddled to the heat. And at the other side of the abyss stood the Order building. It was a combination of the grandeur of the olden days and the functionality and brutality of the new. Industrial like halls, with a grand entrance. The walls were encased in lots of metal, it seemed steadfast and heavy - ironic as it was a lot of glass between the metals. It symbolized, how the people could watch over what the Order did, Daios had figured. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ... The snow on the streets melted down to a sludge. It was trampled and dirtied until it was gray, slimy even. The tramplers filled the streets in droves. It was mostly workers - and the workers left the factories like clockwork, and others came to fill their places. It was always dark and so it never felt like night. There was never light, but there was always movement. Always something new to do. Always a task. The clock tower of the order hung above them all. It chimed every few hours. The workers all were cloaked and masked. It was hard to pick out details about any of them. They felt faceless, even when they were shaped entirely differently. The diversity in their shape unified them even more. If it had only been one or two that limped, with metal prothesis clattering against the rocky ground every step, it would be noticeable. But every one of them seemed to have something unique to them - and so none of them were. A unified mass moved into and out of the factories every 8 hours. Though, the streets were filled with something else now. There laid corpses in heaps on the side of the roads. Now, the people of Alberre avoided the roads - or rather the outside world. The heaps of dead bodies themselves were lethal. They spelled out what was bound to happen to all of them, as well as being the lethal factor themselves. Xalis and Daios had dipped into a side street at the wrong time, it seemed. There was a group of adults, all wearing heavy suits of armour. Masked, not an inch of skin showed itself. They set the bodies aflame with heavy magi-tech flamethrowers, powered with their own magical energy rather than petrol. Torching each stone, each piece of shrapnel that had even the chance of being touched by the piles of bodies. The air sweltered, it was unbearable. A black smudge marked their path. It was within the instincts of Daios and Xalis to remove some of their layers, remove the masks and the goggles. But the sense remaining in them refused. This was what was supposed to happen. Without clean-up, the situation would only worsen. And yet, they felt the heat, even when the cleansing squad turned off their tools. The oppressive heat remained in the glimmering air, clogged their lungs, sat heavy on their skin. The cleansing squad gave a solemn nod to Xalis, who responded in kind. Daios hurried onward, rushing past them, past the soot, past the bones. He was glad for the mask, so he couldn¡¯t smell the familiar scent of burnt flesh. He tried to ignore, how just the sight made his throat itch and his chest sore. He tried to will away the tears, not look at the bodies, not feel the heat, not feel an overly natural urge to hide. Xalis easily caught up to Daios. They remained in silence on their way back. It seemed as though they were being avoided. Alberre rarely felt like a ghost town, and if they strained, surely they could spot people in their homes, hiding away from the disease haunting Proznia. It had been 3 months since the first outbreak of corpsefever. 1.2 The Order. Daios flinched at the thought, just 3 months. 3 Months and the streets were lined with corpses. He willed himself to not think, just walk. Xalis followed him. He held his head high and his shoulders back, not to betray the scraping of his nails against the hilt of his sword, kept his breath steady, not to betray the heavy sinking of his stomach. What a relief the Order was before them. Large glass windows, a soft light coming from inside. They went through the doubled up entry ¨C sort of airlock, but to keep out the cold. The windows all were doubled up glass. Inside, they were hit with a blast of warm air. Electric lights, electric heaters, the place hummed gently. In the large entry hall the four sided star sat as a pattern in the floor, separating the main hall, leading to the four hallways. ¡°Bye.¡± Xalis laid one last heavy hand onto Daios shoulder. He squirmed away a little in return. ¡°Talk to you later.¡± He mumbled and left toward the hallway to the back. His steps clanked heavy on the ground, the metal casing of his soles announcing the short alchemist. The hallway of the scientific department was lined with doors to different labs and utilities. Most of them were shut, the hallway would sit in silence, if not for the humming of electric lights. The hallway twisted around different labs and facilities. He walked by the only other source of noise ¨C the open door to the department of medicinal magi-tech. Hushed voices came out, the conversation sounded aggressive. A lanky woman stood close to the frame of the door, her face contorted into a scowl. "You''re not listening." "To your hypothesis? Why wou-" Daios moved past it quickly. He tried to not look, but accidentally made eye contact with the woman. Her face darkened, and she slammed the door shut. One door in particular interested him, it wasn''t the one slammed in his face. But rather, one close to the end of the hallway. The sign next to the door read ¡°Head Magi-tech Expert¡± in a nice printed lettering, and written in ink on a paper stuck underneath it ¡°and assistant.¡± He cracked open the door and glanced in. The lab was split ¨C 2/3rds sat in utter disarray. Metal scraps, odd tools and notes everywhere. Odd jars with detached animal parts, bones and creepy fluids. At one of the desks, surrounded by mugs and bottles, a lanky satyr rested her head. She snored softly, Daios sneaked by, trying to not have his clunky shoes make too much noise. He then got to the other third of the lab. It was just as crammed. A desk, surrounded by notes, books and little inventions. A few paper fish swam circles, dangling from a lamp. Scraps of alchemical phrases hung from different piles of material. Multiple hand sewn journals sat on a makeshift shelf, balanced on a pile of books. On the chair at the desk laid a blanket, a few pillows by the foot of it, alongside more blankets. An assortment of inks, chalks, and papers sat in a box under the desk as well. With a clattering, his exploration gear fell to the floor. He stretched once, enjoying the satisfying burn of his tired, stiff back moving again and then he removed his mask, coat, and goggles and placed them in their respective spot ¨C a pile on the floor next to the chair ¨C and let himself fall into the chair with a sigh. The creaking of the chair must have alerted the satyr, who now stretched her stiff limbs and rubbed the sand from her eyes. When she saw the little lamp at Daios¡¯ desk flicker on, she started to smile a little. ¡°Well, well, well, if it isn¡¯t my little assistant coming back to work after¡­ ?¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡±It was not that long, Orchid, just 2 days. Not long.¡± ¡°Mhhhhh. Two days? Could¡¯ve sworn it was longer¡± She said, her voice raspy ¨C an additional layer of raspiness added from sleep. The drawn out words were a choice. She glanced at a clock, propped up by some scrap metal. ¡°2 days. 13 hours. 24 minutes. That¡¯s approximately 61 hours. I think you can work 61 hours without me- I mean, you don¡¯t even work all those hours, you just sleep most of them away ¨C so you could have hardly missed me.¡± He leaned back to grab his papers from his jacket pockets. ¡°So focused on numbers¡­¡± she whispered to herself, then added cheerily ¡°Maybe you should sleep too, kid¡± ¡°I¡¯m like 25! And not on the job. You, know, you should be the responsible one¡± She shrugged. ¡°You make it too easy, kid.¡± ¡±Still. 25.¡± Daios mumbled through his teeth. Daios heard the clacking of a cane and low heeled shoes in the hallway, before the door even opened. He straightened up, both his posture and the scattered notes on his desk. Daios felt his heart still in his chest. Orchid leaned her head down again, grabbing a random metal-scrap around her and scratching around on it. The door opened, not a creak, not a fling, perfectly controlled. In stepped a tall man, not as tall or strong as Xalis. He held a cane, his clothes were nicer than those of anyone Daios had seen on the way. ¡°Just checking on my favourite inventors ¨C welcome back, Daios.¡± He spoke slowly and clearly. A little smile changed the tone of it ¨C friendly, warm even. ¡°Asphodel.¡± The alchemist jumped to his feet. ¡°Good morning, yes. Doing, just fine, thank you!¡± Daios spoke hastily as always, but especially now he threatened to stumble over his own words. ¡°Any luck? Xalis told me you were successful.¡± His inquiry sounded soft, the tone went up, but he asked it almost hushed. ¡°Yes! I- actually I found lots of fascinating stuff-¡± Daios crammed around in his notes, and went to open a page with his findings ¡°So! This one means-¡± Asphodel waved off Daios oncoming rant. ¡°You know I don¡¯t understand all of your¡­ ramblings. Come to me when you¡¯ve got results, I can understand.¡± ¡°Oh. Uhm. I will if I¡­ get any¡± ¡°When you get them.¡± Asphodel pushed, his smile unwavering. Daios looked back at him, his notes half closed again. A moment of silence passed, Asphodel knocked the floor gently with his cane and said: ¡°Well! I shall not hold you up any longer.¡± Asphodel turned and left. The door fell shut behind him, and Daios let out a breath, Orchid a sigh. ¡°I should get to it...¡± Daios mumbled. ¡°Or sleep!¡± Orchid answered, but he had already collected the mask, goggles, coat, and notes and left through the door. ¡°Or not...¡± Daios left the building in the same hurry he entered it. He walked around the building, to a small staircase, that led up to oldtown. It wound through tight alleys, between buildings, no railing needed. The city seemed to still as he ascended. It got colder too, the glow of the furnaces laid behind him. Only one train line ran through it ¨C seemingly as to not entirely abandon the mountainside. The lamps that hung between the buildings over the small path were mostly burnt out, the few that remained flickered pathetically. Daios would''ve lit the lantern, were it not for the ease at which his legs found the familiar steps, or for the clarity he felt at the emptied walkway. At the end of his winding path, the buildings opened up again to a plateau. It looked over the abyss, over the city centre below. At the edge of the plateau, toward the stone of the mountain, again towered the broken down cathedral. It surely once was a sight to behold ¨C all lofty towers and intricate decorations. What remained of the roofs indicated a rounded shape, folding into a sharp peak. The front door felt too suspicious to him, too clear if he had shoved it open. So he didn''t, Daios entered through a broken window in the back. He saw the long abandoned fire pit folded into a far corner away from the wind and snow. Coal writings, that reached only his hip. He passed the desecrated statue in the middle, passed the broken benches and piles of ruined books. He folded back a heavy carpet that lined the edge of the stage, behind which, a hidden flight of stairs spiralled into the crypt. The crypt was clean, was it not for the walls covered in paper scraps. A floor dirtied by dozens of attempts at alchemical phrases in coal. Candles lined the emptied graves, alongside notes and journals. He set his mask and goggles down, stretched, and got to work. 1.3 - it works. He worked a while in his crypt. First, of course, going over what he¡¯d found out. The symbol of Arratoria - he thought it¡¯d help him locate it. He wouldn¡¯t be able to travel as he had before with coordinates, but looking for the entity itself. Maybe not itself, he thought, and began to mess with it. A few meters away from the entity. But to make sure he wouldn¡¯t appear in stone, or covered in sand or dirt - so maybe he should specify it was in the air, to replace the air with himself? Before he¡¯d just switched out places now he had to make sure only he was addressed in the phrase. The phrase got longer with each consideration. More complicated and worst of all he couldn¡¯t test it without activating it - and to activate it he had to be sure he hadn¡¯t messed up. So he repeated it a dozen times, reading each step aloud to himself in his crypt, wandering around the circle of papers on the ground spelling out what he knew so far. The alchemist emphasized the opening and closing of brackets especially, made sure that everything was perfectly flowing, perfectly in order. And then, quicker than he thought but still tedious and lengthy: The phrase was done. It laid before him perfectly. Each note, each line he had reviewed. Just one last line to place before the phrase became active. The room got smaller before him, he felt. Daios thought for a second that he could not breathe. This was it? The solution he had wanted, needed even. He felt himself stiffen, his chest hardly allowing breath to pass, his fingers gripping the paint far too tightly. There was no air in the room, he felt, there was no air and no space, and it all amounted to the phrase painted on the ground. It glared at him, and he refused to put down that last line. Not yet, he thought. I¡¯m unprepared, he thought. So he left the crypt again. Not with all the gear from before, just a brisk walk. He''ll make a note, he figured. If he fails, there will be something to find. The thought eased his racing mind a little. ¡°Dear seeker,¡± he started, crossed it out again, look away from the paper, think. It felt good to feel the wind against his skin again, as he exited the cathedral. Then it felt cold. And the way it tugged at his clothes felt irritating. And then the noise of the train reached him, and the noise of passer-by''s and the electric lights all rang in his ears, and the penetrant thickness of the smog made his mind fog up on top of everything else. ¡°To whomever it may concern¡± - crossed out again, horrible - he thought. Of course, horrible, and a train honked its horrible horn in the distance. Even the way he crossed it out was horrible. Deep breath. Daios lowered his eyes to the note, and walked. Ignored the flickering lamps and the loud churning of machinery, the irritating buzzing of electricity, regardless of how it felt as if it itched on his skin. He tried to tune it out and start writing again. He began to write again, ¡°a note from-¡± No. ¡°Greetings¡± Horrible. ¡°Dearly-¡± The paper crumpled against his chest, as he crashed into something before him. A smudge of coal painted both down the page and against his red coat, and whatever it was before him let a low groan sound. Daios looked - He stared down the person before him, over their sunken eyes and cheeks, the discolourations on their face - a rash painted the left side of their neck - a dark purple underlined their eyes. How pale they looked, how chapped their lips were. He stared, until it clicked, and he stepped back. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Sorry.¡± Daios choked out, but his tone was hollow, still fixated on the condition of the person. They stumbled forwards, past Daios and clung onto a railing, retching. Daios felt even heavier than before, even more burned up than before, but he pushed the anxious burning in his chest down into his legs. Let the fire burn the stiffness away - and rushed back to the crypt. The tired, hoarse coughs of the person haunted him. And below that horrid noise, he felt suddenly the clarity buzz to life. He ran. Back through the street he¡¯d wandered before, back through the broken window, down the stairs and back to work. The words rang clear in his head now, and committed them to paper right away. ¡°I can fix this.¡± He ignored his burning lungs and aching legs, and stared at his reason. The written words, a reason he could hold in his hands, they melted away the last modicum of stiffness in his limbs, now he was overcome with a jittery excitement. One last glance over the phrase he¡¯d etched into the floor. One last reassurance. He drew a deep breath and steadied himself. His hands shook just a little as he painted the last line. Then, the gateway opened.
This time and for the first time, it wasn¡¯t snow being kicked up as he landed but dust and fine sand. The ground shifted softly to each movement. He lit his lantern, immediately enamoured with what he saw. Green leaves, vines climbing up numerous pillars. Red sand trickling to new organic pillars around him. Stone pillars marked a geometric pattern, like that of the ruin. Mushrooms lined the edges of the pillars, each one again intricately carved. He could sparingly read the writing all around him - Lekuan, a language lost to time - it seemed to be numbers all of it. He felt a rush, a spark to note and document it all. To dig at the meaning of the numbers, to take samples of the soil, of the sand, of the surrounding plants. He felt his legs as if he were on a boat, and his chest warm with the need for more and more and more. His hands itched with inactivity. It was so beautiful it threatened to overwhelm the alchemist. So he took one first step, toward one of the plants. It snaked its way around one of the pillars. Its leaves were green, but had a red pattern inside itself. He disregarded the shuffling of sand and dancing of the wind. He started to document, forgot how long he¡¯d spent there. Filled pages with little sketches and notes. He tucked them away in his bag, holding a few of them. The anxiety had started to wash away with each line made of the surrounding flora. He turned, toward the next exciting thing, the next mushroom or plant. And there stood someone. They towered over him. Four horns grew straight up from their head, matched with four gilded spikes coming from their chest plate. Their eyes seemed to glow back at him, a black sclera and bright green iris. Slits for pupils. They blinked once. ¡°Hi- I- Sorry - Uh¡± Daios started, dropping the papers he was holding. They just stared further, blinked again. Before the closeness of the pillars and the darkness of the room weighed on his mind, he tried a different approach, and in his very rusty Lekuan spoke: ¡°Hello. You are¡­ Arratoria?¡± They winced at his words. He felt so small in their gaze. The dress they wore seemed to reach the ground, moving and writhing as if it had a mind of its own. They responded: ¡°That is correct. What are you doing in my Atz¡¯Dinah?¡± 2.1 The game. ¡°I need your help.¡± Daios¡¯ words scratched at the edges of the flowy Lekuan language. Another awkward silence spread between the two - Merciful, Arratoria broke it. ¡°My help.¡± "Yes, that would be nice of you, you don''t have to. Just thought it doesn''t hurt to ask." His light response bounced off the hall with a small echo. Daios nodded, he didn¡¯t take his eyes off of the face of Arratoria. Black markings ran down their face, like swirled ink blending into the dark skin at the edges. Arratoria hardly moved as he glared back. Daios had a hard time figuring out what their expression meant. That was, until Arratoria leant back just a touch, straightening their back, looking away from the alchemist, then looking above him, taking a deep breath and then looking back down to their expectant guest. They started their sentence with that same blank expression. ¡°How about a deal. A game is played - my choice - and if you win, I shall help your cause, whatever it is.¡± They smiled, baring sharp teeth, ¡°If I win, I shall take your life.¡± Daios heart rose and then plummeted with a start. He felt the lightheadedness return, a tight heat in his chest. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, of course it wouldn¡¯t. He could die. He just might. But it was the thought of the choking man that brought him back to the ground. The images of piles of mangled corpses, an invisible enemy taking them one by one. The unbearable heat of the flamethrowers. A rotting from the inside, undetectable, unavoidable. How much worse could a death at the hand of Arratoria even be? What was an hour of suffering compared to the rest of his life in fear and a drawn out 2 weeks of a slow and then sudden decline. Choking and sputtering, no air left, no energy. A body, that fails you. How bad could it be, he thought, and smiled back at Arratoria. He felt goosebumps all over his body, ¡°What are we playing, then?¡± He held out his hand to shake. Arratoria stopped again. The smile faded from their face. They glanced to the outstretched hand. Under Daios skin itched an anxiety like electricity. But he buzzed in stillness, as Arratoria watched, then turned before him, walking off into the dark. Daios willed his legs into moving. They walked as a shadow glides across a smooth floor, Daios jogged to keep up. ¡±Toak¡¯Go¡± ¡°I do not know what that is.¡± ¡°A card game. 15 Rounds. Each round the winner gets to ask a question - if they win again the questioned must answer it. If the questioned wins, however, the asker must answer their own question.¡± Simple enough. "Good. And how do you win the round?¡± ¡°It''s a strategic war game. Think.¡± He¡¯d never even heard the game¡¯s name before¡­ He tried to keep his sense anyway, cutting through the hazy nervousness. To quell his anxious mind, he tried to do the math in his head, how many questions and- ¡±Won¡¯t one of the questions not get answered at the end?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I assume you enjoy the mystery?¡± Daios tone pitched upward, the mask hiding a smile on his face. Arratoria let Daios friendliness rot in silence as they walked. They walked to a low table, that looked as if it had grown out of the stone ground. It wasn''t perfectly even or symmetrical. The top of it was round, and Daios found none of the intricate carvings he¡¯d found everywhere else. The table shifted. Out of the flat surface grew a raised field. It fell off in steps, each broad and long enough to lay a card on. There was a ridge in the middle, a bridge looming over it in one part. He let himself fall, sat crosslegged across from the entity. Even seated, they loomed over him. Arratoria placed a deck of cards on the table. The deck too was made of stone. Reddish stone, carved intricately, dark ink inside the grooves. The back of the card had a piece of art carved into it, all the lines flowing with an organic feeling, lively plants sprouting around the edges of a square. In the square, an eye stared back at the alchemist. Daios felt it¡¯d almost be a shame to play with them. The entity shuffled, and then handed out 7 cards to Daios and then 7 for themself. The cards on Daios hand were just as beautiful on their front as their back. There was small lekuan writing on each card, a beautiful illustration above it. He couldn¡¯t read all the names. Could hardly decipher the curly handwriting that explained what the cards did. A dial was built into the bottom of the front of the card. 3 Soldiers, a musician and an archer. A person with a long twirled hat. They held scrolls and strange plants. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. A bulky person in heavy armour. A banner was attached on their back. They held a sword. Daios looked over the items, hardly enough time to read the text on each card. ¡°Set one as your champion- Don¡¯t tell me. A small switch in the back of the card can be used to mark your champion. Do so, discreetly." "Right. Let me think a moment." He considered the bard. It didn''t seem they could even attack, so there was no reason for Arratoria to go after them. He set them as his champion. ¡±The rules are simple. Set up your army, you can keep some on your hand if you wish. Whoever kills the others champion first, wins the game.¡± "Wonderful!" Daios placed his archer in the raised plateau (mountain?), the soldiers in a triangle formation before the bridge. The large armoured one he placed amongst the soldiers, at their front. The musician to the archer, and so the one with the hat. Arratoria placed a paladin toward the very front. A gladiator next to it. Then, one soldier, similar to Daios own, right next to the paladin. There was a unit, just like a soldier, but holding more plans. A strategist, Daios read on the card as Arratoria placed it with a short distance behind their front row. Into their own mountain range, they placed a hunter and an archer. And at the sidelines, a lancer on a steed. ¡°Considering you are my¡­ Guest. I shall let you begin.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± A rush of excitement, until he looks down and- ¡°So I¡­ Move? My. What do you call this unit?¡± ¡°Berun.¡± ¡°Berun, thank you, it-they he. Uh. Attacks your gladiator.¡± A moment of silence passes. ¡°You are done with your turn?¡± ¡°I can do more?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Okay! Uh. The archer, they shoot at your, soldier.¡± Daios waited a second, watching Arratoria carefully. Arratoria (unbothered) looked back. ¡°And then. This soldier, follows the Berun, and they go and attack, the gladiator too.¡± Daios again looked back to Arratoria, who made a motion just through the air and rolled dice onto the table. ¡°This one is for your Berun,¡± Arratoria pointed to a six-sided dice that had rolled a 5, ¡°this for your archer¡± a eight-sided one that had rolled a 4, ¡°and this for the soldier¡± a six-sided one that had rolled a 3. A small dial on the cards rotated, to show what they had lost. In his turn, Arratoria split his hunters piece into two (surprising), moved his lancer across the water (surprising) to target a soldier from behind. However, once his pieces had been placed, Arratoria focused all three of their turns on attacking the Berun. Together, Arratorias Strategist, Footsoldier and Archer managed to take down the Berun. When they flipped the stone card, they stopped for a second at the unflipped switch on the back of it. ¡°Right.¡± They hummed and placed the Berun to the side. ¡°Your turn.¡± Seeing his first unit fall, put a pit in the stomach of the alchemist. He focused his attention on the footsoldier and the gladiator first. His first two actions had taken down two of Arratorias pieces, and once again the deal became sweeter. ¡°Arratoria?¡± Wince. ¡°Mh¡± ¡°This piece¡±, he points to the one with the funny hat, ¡°What do you call it? What can it do?¡± ¡°Deiara. It can deiar other units at the cost of one of yours.¡± ¡°Thank you¡± Daios answered hastily-then stared at the piece for a second. Arratoria watched him. Then Daios drew a sharp breath: ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means¡± ¡°Make more appear, magically.¡± ¡°AH!¡± Daios loud exclamation echoed through the hall, and then he whispered ¡°Yes. Uh. So- You sacrifice a unit to.. deiar, summon, more?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I think in proznian I¡¯d say summoner.¡± The last word sounded much harsher than the smooth lekuan the two had been speaking. ¡°Mh.¡± ¡°But.. I don¡¯t think I want to kill any of my pieces that¡¯d be¡­ counterproductive. I don¡¯t think I will, I¡¯ll just.. Uh.¡± A last hit, he focused on the paladin, who was still bottlenecking the fight at the bridge. The three footsoldiers stood in row on the bridge. In retaliation, Arratorias paladin ripped through the soldier that had attacked it. Daios watched slightly shocked as the lancer and hunter each ripped through the rest of his soldiers. Each time a piece was defeated and Arratoria watched with increasing hesitance under the pieces, only to see that none of them were marked a champion. Daios laughed, a dreadful panic rising in his chest. ¡°You.. Play well.¡± ¡°Mh. Your move.¡± Arratorias voice remained flat. He targetted the strategist with his archer, but before Daios could say he used all his actions for attacks on the strategist, he was stopped. ¡°Your bard boosts you now, having lost so much. Roll first, then decide on the next move. My advice.¡± ¡°Thank you! I didn¡¯t¡­ Know that¡± Arratoria didn¡¯t look at Daios as he answered. First the archer took out the strategist in one hit, and then the lancer in two. Curiously, Arratoria didn¡¯t use their paladin, but rather kept their Hunter, Archer and Lancer attacking. His own archer couldn¡¯t withstand the attacks, despite the low rolls from Arratoria that round. And Arratoria seemed to glare even longer at the unflipped switch. The situation was grim. In his head, he thought through whatever he could possibly do but each road lead to his defeat. He sighed, ¡°I want to.. sacrifice the summoner to get more units¡­¡± Daios said after a moment too long of hesitance. Arratoria pulled 3 more cards from the deck and handed them to Daios. The three new units summoned were a doctor, donkey merchant and a polearm soldier. Even with the very boosted attack of the polearm, which struck down the opposing hunter, it was not enough. Arratoria targeted solely the bard. They won. ¡°14.. more rounds! I totally still have a chance you know¡± Daios reassured more himself than Arratoria, ¡°Now that I know the rules.¡± ¡°Mh. My question for you is, what you need my help with.¡± 2.2 - the next rounds "My question for you is, what you need my help with.¡± The words died in Daios¡¯ throat. ¡°See - There¡¯s-¡± He stared at the leftover pieces from the match. ¡°No need. You answer after you lose.¡± ¡°If I win, what happens then? New question?¡± ¡±I tell you if there is something you could do for me.¡± ¡°Is¡­ There?¡± ¡°If you want to know - win.¡± ¡°Right. Easy enough.¡± Arratoria cleared the board with ease. They shuffled the cards - every now and again a claw grazed the stone, sending shivers down Daios spine. Daios cards were a polearm, two archers, two footsoldiers, a strategist and a ¡­ trickster? It¡¯s a simple card, the character dressed as a typical jester would. Carvings imitating the patterned clothes. He determined the strategist as his commander, turned the switch on its back. Both of them set up a bottleneck around the bridge. They place their units, and Daios gets to act first, being the last round''s loser. ¡°I won¡¯t make it easy for you! Considering, I understand the game now!¡± Daios smiled under his mask. ¡°Archer 1 and 2 shoot at your archer and then- I¡¯ll uh¡­ Just move this guy up here¡± He reached and moved the polearm onto the bridge. Arratoria hardly reacts. This time, they do not wait and ask. They immediately go in for a strike, their own polearm charged past Daios¡¯ units and attack his strategist. They roll well and take it out in one turn. Daios attempts (badly) to mask his shock. When Arratoria turns the unit over and sees the flipped switch, they look back at Daios. An eyebrow cocked, their face not showing a hint of sympathy. ¡°So?¡± He swallows down the burning in his throat and embarrassed heat in his face. ¡°What?¡± ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± ¡°Oh- I- Just¡­ So There¡¯s a plague and I- thought you could, maybe, help out? Help me fix things?¡± ¡°Mh.¡± Daios reached for the units, began to clear off the board, and Arratoria stared, hesitated and then leaned back again. He felt their eyes on him as he shuffled the cards, and handed out 7 and 7 each. During this round he tried to watch Arratorias reactions. They seemed stonefaced, or Daios was just bad at reading faces. It was when their eyes flicked back up to him that he hurriedly looked down, to witness the board, as Arratoria had set it for themselves. One of the cards was called an abslaheriot. He held it out to them, "What is this one?" "Abslaheriot. Death obsessed magician" "Necromancer?" "Sort of. They are more obsessive than magical." "Necromaniac then?" "Mh." Daios went first, using one of his footsoldiers to damage one of Arratorias units. Between each of Daios'' moves, he paused to look back to how Arratoria reacted. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Their face remained the same. He looked for where they were looking, but eventually it was just them looking back at Daios, confused at his constant pauses. "Sorry, distracted," He got back to playing, finally done with trying (and failing) to read Arratorias face. Then - one of Arratorias units died. "I''ll be taking that. It thrashes around-" Daios plays along with his hands, "latches on that other one''s neck and rips with its teeth-" Daios rolls the dice- "effectively murdering that soldier!!! Blood splatters everywhere." He chuckled slightly at his own descriptions. Arratoria did not. But, Arratoria was not attacking the necromaniac. Daios couldn''t help but feel a warm gratitude creep up on him. Their thief stabbed a footsoldier in the back, and when in Daios'' round, he gets rid of the thief and steals the unit immediately. With glee, he described his necro-thief hopping the line back, and ripping into the opponents again. "You must roll for madness." "Madness? Oh... for the maniac?" "It may switch sides." Daios thought of praying for the first time, to make the dice fall in his favour. And they do. He escapes his maniacs madness and is free to roam and maim further. "My dear puppet crunches through the bones here and rips on flesh with its nails and- and - and-" Breathlessly, Daios described and Arratoria watched. Their shoulders relaxed a bit, their face resting a bit lower, rather than glaring down their nose. And then it happens - many turns in. The madness consumed his dearest maniac. Daios watched in horror as his new favourite unit and all its subordinates turned over to Arratoria. Arratorias shoulders, which had relaxed in the process, seemed to tense up again. They looked down at the pieces. Soon after, Arratoria took Daios'' commander too. And that round was over. It took Arratoria more time to ask their question this turn. They seemed more interested in running their thumb over the flipped switch on Daios'' commander. "How did you find my Atz''Dinah?" Daios shot Arratoria a pained smile- "Give me the piece, I''ll shuffle." He shuffled, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest, the sensation that everything was doomed. He had lost so much already, and this interaction was sure to spell his end. Surely, he couldn''t best an ancient entity in this game it''s played thousands of times before. Surely, he couldn''t outsmart so much experience and time to have formed plans and strategies. He felt his face grow hot, his throat tight. He felt like he could cry. There was no way to beat this. In his hubris he doomed himself, and still he lacked time. Time to fix things, time to think of anything good, time to save himself and the rest of Proznia. And under the close watch of the entity, he was sure even that time was soon to run out. He couldn''t shuffle forever. The next round played quickly. Daios used a thief unit to pierce quickly through Arratorias frontlines. He targetted the bard first, nothing had died yet, but the morale built up quickly and just as he was justifying his choice he noticed the flipped switch on the back. He won. The first round he''s won. With a sudden glee, he hopped up to his feet. The tight feeling was gone, the heat was gone, and from him radiated glee and a manic laughter. "I did it! I did it!!" Arratoria watched, their eyes following the quick movements of Daios almost comedically. "Sorry-Sorry- I- I mean Sorry for your loss but-" Daios stared back to the blank face of the entity. His boots clunked as he sat down, folding his legs under himself. Arratoria waited for him to still. "To answer the question. I didn''t find the Atz''Dinah, I made it. I settled down here before the Lekuan people. I sought for a place far from the rest of it all. I sought out an oasis in the desert. I wanted to rest there. The city was later built around it. Is that sufficient?" "Yes. Sufficient, yes. Thank you-That is." Daios still felt he had to catch his breath, "Thank you. It''s a nice story." "I enjoyed the way life passed through it. Seeing the animals and plants seek out the water and respite." Daios felt himself soften to Arratorias words. He had to imagine the tall silhouette among the trees, spiked horns peeking out between leaves. In the dark of night, the gleaming eyes with their thin slits. They shared a moment, Daios finally quiet and still. Arratoria stopped, looking down at their hands resting on the table. Their face was still unreadable to Daios, but their hands toyed the surface of the table, the details on the board. Daios voice was soft and quiet, when he spoke up again. "Not much life around anymore, is there?" And the moment was gone. Arratoria stiffened again, their hands going still. Daios wished he could see a scowl or anything that confirmed his thought, but to no avail. "I shall set up the next round."