Chapter 299: Brewing Allies

Confiding in strangers was a surprisingly common thing.

He’d experienced it a lot back in Alric, especially working behind the counter at McHarris’, and on a few occasions since he’d been in Generasi. A bad day. A hard time in school. A tough relationship, or a lost job. All of that boiled up inside a person, pressing down on them, sapping their peace of mind with the weight of a thousand stones.

Pressure would build until…whether it was during a moment of stress or a chance encounter with a nonjudgmental ear, everything would come tumbling out like the rushing rapids in a river. He’d confided in someone he’d never met before one afternoon when he was sitting in the waiting room of the magistrate’s office, nervously waiting for information about his and Selina’s finances. It was during a rough patch in his life. McHarris’ bullying had been escalating and he’d been feeling trapped. He couldn’t just walk out of the bakery since he was trying to build up his savings. So, he’d been sitting there fidgeting and feeling overwhelmed when this kindly older man sitting beside him said; “You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your back.” That’s all it took for Alex to open up to a complete stranger: someone, no matter what he said to them, he’d probably never see again.

Or if he did, it’d likely be in passing.

He also remembered a schoolmate of his and Theresa’s who’d unloaded all of her worries onto Theresa just before she left Alric. It happened. Probably a lot. Sometimes people just needed an ear to listen to them.

And now Drestra had found that ear.

It wasn’t like she’d never see Alex again, but he wasn’t exactly in her inner circle either.

And that sometimes made it easier to talk to someone.

“I need you to keep this between us, okay?” Drestra’s crackling voice was low behind her veil.

“I won’t tell a soul,” he said, leaning forward and cocking his head.

In the firelight, their nearness made them look like lovers quietly whispering to each other.

“Do you know much about the Witches of Crymlyn Swamp?” she asked.

“No, not really,” he admitted. “I know that the witches—I mean, your kin—have been in the Crymlyn for a long time—” There was a little twitch in her body language when he said ‘your kin’. He noted that as he continued. “—and I know that you’re probably the biggest group of magic users in Thameland? Then there’s some fairy tales…but most of those aren’t very kind.”

“So you know what most know,” she said. “We are adaptable. We’ve needed to be if we wished to survive.”

Adaptable. Alex could relate.

“It’s not easy to live as we do: from enduring the persecutions of the church of Thameland generations ago, to surviving the Ravener, to crafting our own paths through magic. None of it is easy and we’ve had to change ourselves over and over again.”

Her golden, reptilian eyes seemed to flare in the firelight. “ ‘Change is the Wonder of Life’, we say in the Crymlyn. Even animals change…but all this. You have no idea what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?” Alex asked.

“The fighting. The Heroes. The Ravener. We were told that these cycles and battles have persisted for centuries…millennia even, no one can say for sure. And they tell you this with a smile on their face.”

“What?” Alex said. “Who told you that?”

“Some of the priests…some of the nobles and knights…” she snorted, and Alex swore he felt heat rise through the air. “They called it the ‘Cycle of victory and horror. The pride of the Kingdom of Thameland’, as if there’s something to be proud of in any of that.”

“Yeah, they used to teach us some of the same things at the church school when I was young,” Alex said. “I think I’ve heard that expression before. Most people want the Ravener defeated forever, though, right?”

“Do they truly? I wonder about that,” Drestra said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “There are things we could be doing. Hard decisions we could make, or even different paths to look at, but everyone just wants to do the same thing that Thameland’s always done: throw us at monsters like we’re nothing more than clubs to bludgeon them with. Like we’re no more than blunt weapons for them to use. What about us? We have this duty but…”

She paused.

Before he thought, Alex’s mouth went renegade. “But Uldar never asked,” he supplied.

Drestra’s breath caught in her throat as if someone had thrown ice water over her. Her eyes grew as large as saucers above her veil.

“Wha-” she stammered.

“Uh, well, sorry,” Alex quickly apologised, mentally kicking himself. Now he was the one unburdening himself. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologise,” she said. “Outside of my family, no one has ever said that to me before. It’s true. Uldar did not ask. It doesn’t matter who you are, whether you’re a warrior, a priest, or you were born here or not, he just brands you like cattle and then off you go to fight. I certainly did not ask for this.”

Empathy for Drestra spiked in Alex.

And a degree of shame.

He used to imagine getting the Mark of the Sage instead of the Fool and enjoying the power that came from it. He’d imagined himself pouring spells down on Ravener-spawn with glee and celebrating his growth. But now that he’d met the Sage.

And knew she felt the same way he did about being Marked…

“Ugh…I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “It’s like you have this plan for your life right, then something just decides that your plans don't matter. You. Your family. Your hopes and dreams. Suddenly, you’re supposed to just throw that all away. And on top of that, people tell you to just get over it then say something dismissive like, oh well, that’s life.”

“Yes!” her crackling voice hissed. “You see! You understand! Most talk about this great honour and such…or the wondrous power that the Mark grants me and the other Heroes—”

Alex fought the urge to wince.

“—but I don’t need such power. What I need is to live, and grow and age in my own time. I’d get my own power that way. But this? What good is power when you’re only made to fight for your life with it, and they tie your hands so you can’t even do it properly.”

“What about the other Heroes?” Alex asked. “You talk to them about this?”

Drestra let out a quiet, ugly laugh that sounded like a chimney trying to cough. “The other Heroes? They are some of the worst ones.”

She subtly nodded toward Hart. “He’s a brute. A strong brute. A brave brute. But…mad. Completely mad. Suicidal. He just goes into fights happy to swing his big blade with every bit of strength he has. I’m not sure if he even cares about dying. Cedric…”

The Sage paused. “He means well, he truly does. But…he’s not much of a leader. I saw how you people conducted yourselves when we were fighting. The Watchers, the surveyors…you all moved together like one body. Like wolves in a pack.”

“That’s a lot of training and experience working together that was playing out,” Alex said. “It took a long time to get there.”

“We’ve had a full year,” Drestra said. “And…it still doesn’t work. And then there’s Merzhin…”

“Merzhin…the Saint, right?”

“Yes,” the Sage said. “He…is very focused on sticking to Uldar’s ways. He and Cedric don’t make the choices you need to…how did you put it? Bring a permanent solution.”

“I can understand how that’d be frustrating,” the Fool said. “You end up just throwing yourself against the same threat over and over, risking your life, like you said. And then no one’s trying to find a way to stop it and make sure it never happens again.”

“And that’s why I used the word 'madness'. It’s madness to do that, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience with that,” Alex admitted.

‘Though some might say Baelin’s mad…but in a different way,’ he thought.

“In some ways, I envy the Fool,” she said.

It took Alex everything he had not to give himself away. “Really? They get the short end of the stick. When kids play ‘Heroes and Monsters’ nobody wants to be the Fool.”

She shrugged. “Either they’re dead, and none of this matters to them, or they’ve escaped and are far, far away from here. Probably making a new life for themselves somewhere. Either way, they’re the only Hero who’s escaped this madness, whether by death, or by design.”

Alex paused. “...that’s one way to put it. Well, like I said. If I get my way, we’ll investigate the cores, the monsters and the dungeons, then see if we can find a way to put all of this to bed forever. We’ve got the minds and the equipment to do it. At least, I think we do.”

“...I hope so. I truly do,” she said.

A thought began brewing in Alex’s mind. One that could bear fruit later. Drestra was unhappy. She seemed to be already in the mindset of questioning things.

What if…she were to see something that would…shake up her understanding of the dungeon cores, the Ravener, and the whole cycle?

What if she learned that people could control dungeon cores?

What other questions would knowing that stir in her?

“I tell you what,” Alex said, nodding toward the tent they’d placed the samples in. “The moment we find something…conclusive. Anything big. I’ll make sure we get word to you as quick as we can. And the other Heroes too. You talk about having tools to fight the Ravener. Well, knowledge is power, y’know? And we’ll see to it that you have that knowledge in your hands to make use of.”

She looked at him. “Thank you. I mean that. Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for, and remember, I’m Thameish too. It’s also what I want.”

“Mmmmm.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue, slipping deep into thought. “Say…might I ask you something?”

Alex fought a spike of nerves.

‘Calm down,’ he thought. ‘Why would she ask you if you’re the Fool. She just mentioned the missing Fool and talked about them being either dead or long gone. You’re still good, man, just don’t panic and give yourself away.’

“I was wondering…you said you would do almost anything to end these cycles forever,” she said slowly. “What if there was something you could do that could help that cause. …but some might find it…unsavoury. What would you do?”

“What do you mean unsavoury?” he asked.

“I mean…it could involve a sacrifice.”

“Can you tell me anything more specific?”

“No,” she said bluntly. “Only that some agree it should be done and some think it shouldn’t. The rest must remain private. Would you take the distasteful path?”

Alex waited, gathering his thoughts. He didn’t like giving advice about vague situations. It wasn’t clear if she’d take any of his advice seriously; after all, he was dealing with the flood of a year’s worth of her frustrations fuelled by a couple of cups of wine, and they weren’t exactly best friends. But he’d heard enough tragic tales of someone giving someone else advice about some vaguely laid out problem where the advice seemed reasonable at the time, but quickly turned into a disaster when the recipient used it.

Drestra sounded like she was in a tough situation, with a good bit of desperation sprinkled on top. He didn’t want to unintentionally push her in a direction that she—and maybe lots of other folks—might end up regretting.

“I dunno,” he said. “I like the idea of ‘everybody wins’ if you can get that. Except monsters or assholes trying to kill you, of course. They can all go straight to every hell in all the planes for all I care. In tiny pieces would be best. But for everyone else? I like to think that if there’s another way, pick the other way. Like a third way. One of my mentors—Chancellor Baelin, who you’ll be meeting soon—always tries to get us to think our way out of problems. You’re the Sage, right? Maybe you’ll come up with another way that’s best for everybody. Beyond that…”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not in your shoes so I’d feel kinda bad just throwing a bunch of advice at you.”

“Hmmm…wisely spoken,” she said. “Ah, you know, I’ve gone on long enough. But um…thank you for listening. Ah! Your partner is coming back with our wine.”

Drestra moved away from Alex, turning to greet Theresa as she returned to the campfire. As Alex welcomed her back, he considered everything he and the Sage had shared.

He had a feeling he might’ve found a potential ally in the young woman.

They had a lot in common. More than she knew.

Questions.

Discontent at the situation in Thameland.

The need to try something different.

Baelin had said that necessity generated innovation, and the Sage obviously had a big need.

As the celebration wound down, he found himself satisfied with how things had turned out. He’d learned quite a bit from the Heroes, deflected suspicion, and begun building a relationship with the Sage.

If things worked out the way he wanted…

…he might have more allies than enemies in the future.

And he knew he needed all the allies he could get when it came to cracking the mysteries of Thameland, Uldar and the Ravener.