Spear of Clouds Unfurled 5.4

The trio of dhampir: Kalavir, Orveleena, and Galvar, were all expelled from the Guild. Attempted murder of another Guildmate was, obviously, against the Guild Charter, and for some reason, in some part of this new world's custom that I didn't understand, multiple people ganging up in an attempted murder was seen as a far graver offence than if just one had gone after me. Maybe it wasn't considered sporting, or something?

Whatever the reason, the trio of Mercian dhampir confessed to an enraged Laera that they wanted to kill me for 'what I had done' to Port Imperial. That was after accusing me of being the one to attack them, naturally. Unfortunately, for them, no one believed them. They'd been spotted by a few people following me, and many had seen the fight in the distance—including when they'd tried to sneak up on me and shot the first arrow.

I'd barely gotten them back on their feet, something that had confused my would be murderers mightily, when they'd had their guild insignia unceremoniously shattered.

However, rather than being turfed beyond the walls, they were locked up in the makeshift prison that had seen a disquieting amount of use. I'd asked Laera why they weren't just given supplies and sent on their way around the bay to Port Imperial, and then when Laera had refused to explain herself, I had demanded that they be released on the ground that had been no due process or a trial, and that I didn't think imprisonment was something that should be normalised in Guildport. Or anywhere, actually, if reasonable and less harmful alternatives existed.

Laera had looked at me in confusion for several moments when I’d told her that, then called me something that translated to roughly 'you are an absolute nutter,' and then just walked off.

"Alright, I have worked out a system," said Velevir, sitting down at the table where Nathan, Mousington, and I were eating dinner in a corner of the Guildhall, sometime a little before midnight.

The Guildhall was still busy, with a rather loud group of beastkin adventurers, all Bronze, who were playing some kind of very loud game that involved dice, cards, and swearing in one of the languages of Carritas, Jhulv, which was from the upper west of the continent, and was one of the more spoken tongues within the town. It sounded vaguely Arabic to my ear, but had grammar that was actually quite close to Spanish and other Latin languages, with only objects handled in a bit of a weird way, stacked at the front of the sentences. I had picked up some of it from my work at the clinic, and Ritah had given me a brief overview of the grammar during a lull in patients, but I couldn't really make out much of what was being said. Other than the good-natured swearing, that was.

"A system?" I said, spooning some spicy broth into my mouth. "Huh?"

"To make sure that you always have someone with you," said Velevir. "A bodyguard."

"A bodyguard? Surely that's excessive?" I said, pausing, my spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Charlie, people just tried to kill you," said Velevir, exasperated brown blooming in her aura. "And you have a bounty on your head."

My tail swished as my own aura reacted to meet her irritation. I didn't want a bodyguard. I didn't want to not be able to walk around the town without an armed escort. That sounded like a horrible world.

"I can sense if people are going to attack me," I protested. "I just- I won't go anywhere without people around. I'll be fine."

"You aren't immortal," snapped Velevir. "And I know that your empathy has limits—you miss stuff when you get fixated on something, which, I don't know if you realise this, but you do a lot. And while your powers are scary, and I think seeing those three being dragged into prison paralysed will make people think twice before trying again, I don't think you'd do well against an Iron like me, or a powerful mage like Mousington."

"Lord Mousington," corrected the Grimalkin, sipping primly at his cup of sharp-smelling tea that I had a strong suspicion was the local equivalent of catnip.

I grumbled. I supposed that was true, Velevir was damn fast, and her heavy armour and magical aura would probably protect her against my arrows; I might be able to spook her once or twice, but then again, I didn't have much experience using my powers on people who knew to actively resist my empathy.

Note to self, practice using powers on consenting friends to work out the limits.

And Mousington? I doubted my armour would do much against bolts of lightning, and with the limited enchantments on my breastplate he could probably just hurl a magnetic field in my direction and send me flying wildly through the air, or else maybe just crush me inside it. I shuddered at the thought.

Note to self, invest in better enchantments.

"Mousington will take most mornings," said Velevir, interpreting my silence as surrender and handing out sheets of paper.

"Lord Mousington," grumbled the Grimalkin, sniffing as he looked over the list. "And that is acceptable. Friend Charlie usually oversleeps; we will be able to read. We can also ward their quarters; although we shall need to clear that with the honourable Guildmistress."

"Nathan, you'll do most afternoons," said Velevir. "And I will take most evenings. I've also managed to get a few friends who I trust who are prepared to take another shifts here and there, and hopefully we will be able to get a few more of your Outlanders from the Guild as they get stronger—you're close to Zoe, right Charlie?"

I muttered darkly. I wasn’t happy with this plan, but it didn’t seem like I was getting a choice.

"Yeah, sounds OK," said Nathan, who was munching on a piece of bread smeared with some kind of particularly foul, salty black paste called Lalv that apparently 'tasted a bit like Vegemite'—whatever that was—and which no one except kobolds and Nathan ate.

"Fine," I said. "Although, I still think this is an overreaction."

Velevir glared at me.

***

Interlude: Laera

Moara, a hamster-like beastkin woman with incredibly long hair and large teeth, adjusted one of the dials on the large brass, crystal, and glass apparatus. Moara made a worried noise, and twisted another button before consulting with the large tome that had accompanied the object across the sea.

Although it looked a little bit like a telescope, it wasn't for studying the stars. In addition to the main receiving and projecting lenses, the aetherscope had a series of struts and capacitors and phials full of glimmering liquid that were all essential to its functioning.

It was the most expensive object in Guildport, having cost the Guild tens of thousands to have custom made, and was several months late. It also required a skilled mage to operate, which hadn't seemed like a problem when Tabbeeza had been a fixture of Guildport. But now…?

Moara was a pretty experienced wizard, another silver rank, but rank wasn't everything. Moara's skills were heavily skewed towards battle-magic, whereas Tabbeeza had been a wizard for who knew how many centuries before she'd signed up with the Guild, and was adept in myriad and esoteric areas of the art that had no combat application.

But Tabbeeza was gone, and Laera had no choice but to go on without her. So, she had Moara, who was doing her best to try to figure out how to calibrate the object.

"I… think we have a connection?" said Moara, flicking one of the glass phials. "It's definitely resonating with something."

"It is the Board's aetherscope, though?" said Laera, trying not to get annoyed with the woman, who had been at it for almost an hour.

"Maybe?" said Moara, scratching one of her hamster-like ears.

Laera sighed, and then moved to where the box full of cartridges were: metal cylinders filled with a potent and somewhat volatile mix of various magical compounds that was damn expensive to import, but necessary for the running of aetherscopes, the only objects, other than legendary artefacts made by archmages, capable of communicating across the Sunset Sea in an instant.

Laera handed the cartridge to the mage, who slotted it into a small compartment and then flicked a switch. There was a whine, a hiss, and then a few sparks, before with a flicker of light a partly transparent, blue illusion of an empty room flickered into being on the other side of the telescope-like device.

"Hello?" said Laera, peering at the projection.

There was a poster on the wall, a map of the known world, but beyond that nothing to identify who this aetherscope might belong to. It should have been the one back in the Guild Headquarters in Iltavar, since there was some kind of warding that needed a passphrase to bypass, but this technology was very new, and Laera had no real clue how it worked.

"Stand a bit to your left," said Moara.

Laera shuffled to one side, more in front of the aetherscope. Nothing happened.

"I don't think-"

"Laera?" came a slightly crackly, but familiar voice.

A moment later a very tall beastkin man with cat-like ears stepped into frame. There wasn't colour, everything just being a washed-out shade of blue, but Laera knew that the man's long braided beard and neatly cropped hair was snow white.

Guild Director Sava was slightly stooped with age, but still had the broad shoulders and wiry muscle that had earned him the platinum insignia around his neck. Like Charlie's his had a black mark in the centre, the result of what had in retrospect clearly been a gross abuse of the Charter from when the Guild had only just begun to, on sufferance, allow beastkin into its ranks. He could have had it removed, the board had that power, but he kept it.

‘A reminder of what the organisation was,’ he said.

He was dressed in a neat green doublet, and had a cup of tea in one hand, and peered at her with his single gleaming blue eye.

"My word, you haven't aged a day," he said with real warmth in his voice. "How are you doing over there, my dear?"

"It's good to see you too, Director," said Laera, giving him a genuine smile. "And I'm afraid things could be better."

She glanced at Moara, who stared at her for a moment, before getting the hint and leaving the office, closing the door behind her.

"Quite," he said, inclining his head. "We've had the Mercian Ambassador screaming at us." He exhaled. "Irritating fellow. Going on about… something about a slave break?"

Laera knew that Seveena also had an aetherscope, and had had one for some time, so she wasn't surprised that word of the now over two-month-old event was known about back in Querria. It would have been passed to Mercia via Seveena's aetherscope, not the roughly one and a half months it took to get a letter back to the Continent via sea with ideal winds—far more if you got unlucky.

In fact, it was a bit surprising that Sava didn't have all the information—although, then again, he was famous for fobbing off the Ambassadors from the various empires that pulled double duty with the Maritime Republic of Iltavar and the Guild, which was headquartered on the marshy, rainy peninsula, that jutted out into the Carritas straight.

"Yes," nodded Laera. "They were attacked by the Caith, and one of our new members—Charlie, that Outlander who can heal-"

"Ah yes, the…" he furrowed his brow. "'En-bay?' Not a man, not a woman?" He stroked his beard. "Interesting. I'd like to meet them—'them,' correct?"

"Yes," nodded Laera. "I sent you a full letter with the details, but it must not have reached you yet. The long and the short of it is that I sent a relief mission, with Jalver overseeing distribution of supplies, and putting Charlie in charge of healing."

"A copper, in that position?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Charlie has medical knowledge far more advanced than anything on Alaria," said Laera. "And some kind of knack for what Tabz-" Laera's voice choked, but she forced herself to go on. "-what Tabz called 'Advanced Biomancy.' They seem to be able to just alter a person's body. Undo wounds, regrow muscle and tissue, even bone." Laera exhaled. "Tabz is… Tabz is gone too—Greenskins attacked us, two weeks past. She fell defending the town."

Sava stopped stroking his beard. "I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, genuinely. "She was an excellent Guild Member. I'll see about erecting a memorial, on our grounds."

Laera sniffed and nodded. "Thank-you, Director."

"I want to hear about that too, but this slave break first," said Sava. "How bad is this? How involved is the Guild?"

"Totally culpable," said Laera. "Charlie was acting in an official capacity, and used their power to remove brands and snuck twenty-one slaves aboard our ship. The Mercians figured this out, and our ship retreated under fire. A few of our people were injured, but there were definitely Mercian soldiers who were killed." She shook her head. "I had to give Charlie a Black Mark."

Sava hummed and stroked his beard again. "They've demanded the slaves be returned, Charlie turned over, I imagine?"

"Yes, I told them no," said Laera.

"Good." The ancient beastkin sipped at his tea. "The board will hate it, but good. We don't turn our people over to those bloodsuckers; and we don't send people back to slavery."

Laera relaxed a fraction. She'd known the Director would have her back. He'd been the one to champion the vote to amend the Charter to outlaw dealing with slavery in the Guild. For him, it was personal: many of his family had been enslaved. And although he'd eventually bought and freed almost a dozen of them with the fortune he amassed as one of the most successful adventurers in history, many more had died before he could find them, either on the passage to Rorrovia or on one of the plantations or mines; he had never, and would never forgive the Querrian empires and Kingdoms for that.

The rest of the Board? That was more mixed in its opinions, and reflected the diverse nature of the politics within the guild's ranks.

"Anyway, things settled down for a bit—the whole succession drama, I guess," said Laera. "But just yesterday we got word that bounties had been put out for several members of the Guild here: myself, Charlie, Jalver, and a few others."

Sava's eye flashed, and the teacup shattered in his grip. "They dare?" he growled.

Laera turned and grabbed one of the papers, holding it up for him to see. He peered at it—well, he peered at wherever it was showing for him, the perspectives seemed to be a bit out of alignment.

"Regardless of what has happened, the Board will not stand for this; only the reactionaries will make excuses for Mercia, and they do not have the numbers," he said. "You may rest assured that we will be taking immediate action."

Laera exhaled again, feeling a smidgen more tension evaporate.

"Unfortunately, some of our members have already tried to collect," said Laera. "Three Bronze's tried to kill Charlie, yesterday."

"Three? Cowards," he said coldly. "The Outlander lives?"

Laera nodded. "They do—handled the three themselves. I've already expelled the perpetrators, and will have the full report sent to you when I've finished it," she said. "I've also imprisoned them, for the moment."

"That is not in the Charter," said Sava. "Careful my dear, there is only so much I can do to protect you."

"I can't risk information on our defences getting back to Port Imperial," said Laera. "The Greenskins blew up part of our wall, killed seventeen of our people. We're weak, and if Port Imperial attacks, I doubt we will hold."

Sava hummed. "That is unfortunate."

"I thought I could argue that there is nowhere to turn them over for trial," said Laera.

"That might work for a few weeks," he said. "Could you send them somewhere else? One of Korvar's colonies?"

"No ship heading that far south is coming in for a while," said Laera. "Three weeks, I think."

"We might be able to push that out," he said. "Now that you've got your aetherscope though, the Board will expect regular updates. We can't slow walk this."

Laera nodded. On one hand, she was glad to be able to immediately inform the Guild about their situation. On the other, it meant that she was going to have less 'wiggle room' of the, at minimum, three months that it took a letter to make a round-trip between Iltavar and Guildport. There had been some talk of setting up aetherscopes commercially, and transmitting writing through them somehow using low power, but Laera hadn't heard much about that in quite a while.

"There are a few ships that should be arriving with more members in Guildport soon," said Sava. "And if we make a big enough stink about this bounty outrage, it might get the Empress to pull her head in." He looked off to one side. "Then again, this one seems nasty—might just escalate things."

The aetherscope flickered, and Laera looked over to see the gauge on the charge read as almost expended.

"We're running out of time," said Laera. "When should I contact you again?"

"Tomorrow, let's say…" he glanced at his pocket watch. "Six hours earlier than this. I'll have the whole board here." He smiled at her. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll get through this."

Laera returned his smile, and a moment later the charge died. The expression slid from her face, and she rubbed her eyes.

She hoped he was right.

---

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