Crowned in Black - Chapter 3

Karalti appeared high above Kalla Sahasi, groaning under our collective weight as a cold crosswind blasted her from the north. I could see and feel the tension in the other passengers as she see-sawed toward the triangular courtyard below. As she came in, she intentionally let the wind blow her sidelong until she was anchored in the current, then dipped a wing and slid through the shear to reverse her direction, hover, and touch down in a perfect cross-winds landing.

“Beautiful flying, Tidbit.” I clapped my dragon on the neck and rose to my feet, looking back as our passengers began to unbuckle themselves and each other. Masha scrambled over to Simeon and began to do first aid; Rutha, who was holding the stricken man in her arms, was pale but composed. “Everyone alright?”

"I'm fine," Nethres replied in her hoarse, husky voice. She was already helping Kythias with the Mastersage. The elderly man was shaking, and looked like he was close to crying, puking, or both.

"Well, Hector, I wouldn’t have quite taken the approach that you did with Janos, but… was he really wearing the symbol of the Cult of the Architect?" Rutha asked me, as I scooped one arm under her legs, the other around her shoulders, and lifted her up.

Karalti rumbled like a pissed-off jet engine at the mention of the cult. She’d spent her earliest months on the run with me, hiding from the Ilian secret service and Cult of the Architect, and her beef with them was personal.

“One hundred percent. The little ratfucker pulled the pin off his collar as soon as he was caught, too.” I carried her toward Karalti’s wing. The dragon read my intention through the Bond, dipping the limb to the ground like a ramp so I could crouch and slide down with Rutha in my arms. I turned back as Ebisa joined us on the ground, carrying Masha on her back. “If Janos doesn’t have something to do with Ignas getting captured, I’ll eat my damn spear. Did you hear what Pasha Aswan almost said to him?”

“But you swore,” Rutha finished grimly. “That’s what he was trying to say, before Czongrad’s thug put a boot to his head.”

“Aye.” Ebisa rasped, head swiveling back to her. “We all heard it.”

"You truly believe the Regent has betrayed the crown?" Kythias stared down at the group of us in astonishment.

"I fucking KNOW Janos has betrayed the crown," I replied. “He was flaunting his true allegiance in front of the entire court, and no one noticed except me."

He blinked. "How?"

"These weird eyes aren’t for show," I replied. “I can zoom my vision in and out, pick up about ten thousand more colors than a normal human, and see the back of my own ass.”

“Oh,” Kythias replied. “That must be entertaining.”

“But what is the significance of this symbol you saw?” Nemeth demanded, in a quavering voice.

“It means that Czongrad isn’t just allied with Ororgael, Mastersage,” Rutha answered him. “It means that he worships him, and perhaps the other architects, as some kind of savior. According to His Majesty, his brother was a cult member."

“And so is Janos.” Ebisa was still wearing her mask, but I didn't need to see her expression to read the sudden, murderous tension in her spider-thin limbs. “Ignas forgave him for his support of Andrik, and Janos seemed to thrive under his regard. His Majesty had me investigate thoroughly, of course. Spies in Czongrad’s court, people watching him in Taltos… I told my king that he was clean. Trustworthy. Somehow, he evaded detection until now.”

“He may be a recent convert.” I watched her closely, frowning slightly. “If you did your due diligence, then any slip in your intelligence was a system failure, not a personal one. We can improve the process.”

“Ignas will be dead by then, or worse. Excuse me, Your Grace. I must go and contemplate my errors." Ebisa didn’t actually wait for permission. Before I'd even seen her move, she flitted across the courtyard, blinking in and out of sight, then bounded up the side of one of the towers like a ribbon of quicksilver... a blur so fast that even my eyes couldn't follow.

I stepped forward, as if to try and call her back, but Rutha gently laid her hand against my shoulder and shook her head. "No, Hector. Give her space. Ignas is dear to her, personally and professionally… she struggles with guilt she must process alone."

"Yeah…" I sighed, watching as Kythias gingerly carried the Mastersage to the ground. Nethres took Simeon. Rather than slide down Karalti’s wing, the Valkyrie concentrated on the runes scribed into her armor. Several of them flared with blue light as she jumped. She floated serenely to the ground with the wounded mage in her arms.

“So we figure Janos is crooked,” Nethres said once she joined us. “Don’t know about you, Hector, but I got a quest. Did you read over it?”

“Not yet.” I drew a deep breath and straightened up.

Behind our group, Karalti folded her wings in tightly against her flanks, reared upright, and morphed down into her preferred human form: a small, lithe, fit woman with a silky curtain of thigh-length flat braids, and seven small backswept horns that were reminiscent of her Queen's crest. Kythias happened to glance back as she transformed... and spun away, blushing furiously, as she began to equip her gear.

"Khors' balls, boy!" Nemeth yelped as his apprentice nearly knocked him over.

"Sorry, sir." Kythias’ face was scarlet from chin to hairline.

While the others were distracted, I bought up my HUD and opened the quest. Navigail the Narrator obligingly began to read it out for me in her pleasant, melodic voice:

New Quest: The Hidden Hand

Voivode Janos Lanz of Czongrad, currently the regent of Vlachia, committed a critical error in his attempted coup of the Royal Court: he chose to wear the symbol of the Cult of the Architect in plain sight of the assembly, a symbol you were able to spot with your unnaturally keen vision. No one can yet be certain what this implies, but one thing is for certain - Janos, and his agenda, are not at all what they seem.

To unravel this mystery and save the heart and soul of Vlachia, you must locate the Volod, Ignas Corvinus II, and either rescue him from the clutches of your Ilian enemies or retrieve what remains of him. To say that this mission will be perilous is an understatement. At best, it could result in the unmasking of a traitorous conspirator. At worst, a civil war like none Vlachia has seen before.

Difficulty: Extreme

Recommended Level: Varies. Current recommendation - Level 50

Special: This is an evolving quest. Updates will appear in your log. This is a PvP quest: the quest parameters may change according to player activities.

Reward: 4000 EXP per rescued royal, Renown, Special (???)

“Those motherfuckers,” I muttered. “This quest is ranked for Level 50? That’s crazy.”

Nethres looked even grimmer than usual as she watched on. “Has to be because of Ororgael and Lucien. They’re about that level.”

“And Violetta. She might not be in Revala, but she’s got a hand in this as well. This shit with Dakhdir was all her doing.” Intimidating as it was, I accepted the quest, watching it join my ever-growing Shit I Have to Do To Save Archemi list. “Alright: Kythias, you and Masha take Simeon to the castle hospital and get him sorted out. Rutha, Karalti, Nethres: if you’re willing, I want all three of you in the War Room. Mastersage, you as well - unless you need to rest. I’m going to grab my steward and a few other advisors, and we’ll plan our next steps.”

“And what will those be?” Nemeth peered at me. His cloudy blue eyes were still sharp with wit and intelligence. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to ride in and rescue Ignas yourself?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” I closed my HUD down and nodded to him. “Lucien decided to fuck around by taking Ignas. Now he gets to find out.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, the eight of us had gathered in Kalla Sahasi’s newly restored War Room. At my insistence, the builders had kept this room as simple and functional as possible, minimizing distractions and maximizing planning space. One wall was made entirely of cork, a place to pin maps and attach strings. There was a sideboard with water, wooden cups and fruit, and a long wooden table with a terrain map of Myszno mounted in the center, all major landmarks mapped. When I highlighted it, the KMS informed me that there was a fast-travel upgrade available, but not until I'd reached Level 50. Maybe that was how Baldr-Ororgael was zipping around Artana so quickly.

"So here’s what we know." I stood at the head of the table, Karalti standing at ease beside me. “Ignas flew out with some fifty thousand troops. About half of them were either killed or captured when Dakhdir turned on the First Fleet from behind. Most of the Second Fleet escaped and are rallying at the border. Rather than sacrifice his men, Ignas surrendered. As far as we know, he’s currently being held by Lucien at the Lion Palace in Revala’s capital, Lovi.”

There were nods from everyone present. Nemeth was seated beside Rutha to my right; Istvan and Captain Vilmos to my left. Vash leaned against the wall almost directly behind Istvan, arms and ankles crossed. Nethres was perched nervously on a seat almost at the other end of the oval table, her brows furrowed.

“Now comes the speculation: Given that Janos was flaunting his Cult of the Architect pin, I'm going to guess that Ororgael ordered Lucien to contact Janos, told him that he had a way to get him onto the throne. Janos or one of his proxies tipped off Ilia about the First Fleet."

"I would appreciate more explanation of this ‘Cult of the Architect,” Nemeth said. He had his hands folded in front of him, voice shaky with fatigue but otherwise clear. “I am the Mastersage of Vlachia, appointed by Ignas’ father when he was still young, but all I know of this ‘cult’ is from you, Your Grace.”

“They’re as secretive as they come. Everything we know is from one low-ranked flunky, plus Andrik’s secret journals.” I gestured as I spoke. “As far as we can tell, Ororgael managed to convince some people that the Architects - him, specifically - are the gods above gods here. Both Andrik and his minion believed His Imperial Holiness would give them the power to raise from the dead, like Starborn do.”

“But he can’t do that, can he? He certainly never raised the dead when I was younger.” Rutha’s lilac eyes were dark with anger. Ororgael had been her mentor and her creator; Rutha had been crafted by him to be his perfect little elf girlfriend, and he'd treated her like dirt. For her, this was personal.

“He might have been able to once, but now? No. The, uh, magic of this world is blocking the Architects from being able to use their full suite of powers. They literally can't access them. Functionally, the architects are just ordinary Starborn with access to better gear and some level hacks, as well as meta information about the best ways to exploit this world. So Ororgael can't live up to the promises he's made to people like Janos, but they don't know that."

“I see.” The Mastersage mulled on that for a minute or two. “So the Regent is being deceived, even as he deceives our nation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.” I leaned forward on the edge of the table. “Point being, I think Janos was in cahoots with Dakhdir, and I think he handed Ignas and the First Fleet to Ilia on a platter so he could take power. You all saw how he and Pasha were trying to postion me and Suri to take a fall.”

The people who’d been there nodded. Istvan and Vash both arched their eyebrows, looking around the room.

“It was all a sham. Janos admitted he knew that we’d be in the Bashir salvaging Withering Rose, but before I stepped out, he was acting like he was taking Pasha seriously. What I want to know is, how the fuck did the Dakhari fleet know where to find us? And how did Pasha know we were in the Bashir?”

“He may have deduced it.” Istvan motioned elegantly with a hand as he spoke up. “If Czongrad knew you were in the Bashir, he could have instructed Pasha to report such details as he knew.”

“Or we have a spy,” Karalti added. Nemeth and Nethres both had never heard her before, and they startled up as the dragon’s sweet, melodic telepathic voice intruded on their own thoughts.

Across the room, Vash’s thin weathered face scrunched into a deep scowl.

I exhaled heavily. “We need to make sure we don’t, but I’m hoping and praying that Istvan’s right. If someone was reporting live to Violetta, then they’d have to be a Starborn, a player character. There were only three other Starborn with us in the desert: Rin, Gar, and Suri. But I can’t… I mean, it seems crazy to suspect any of them.”

“Your Grace, with all due respect, Mercurions are not known for their love of humankind,” Istvan said darkly. “And as you’ve told me, Rin IS the Slayer of Taltos’ daughter.”

“No. It can’t be Rin.” But even I felt a needle of doubt. For some reason, I’d never been able to completely trust Rin. Maybe it was because she was an Architect who’d known Ororgael personally; maybe because she’d been trying to protect said Slayer of Taltos when I’d first met her. Sure, she’d eventually shaken off her Stockholm Syndrome and stopped covering for her serial killer surrogate father… but still. “Suri would die before she gave any information over to the Sultir. Of the three of them, Gar is the one who has the most reason to turn on us. We hired him for a journey to Meewhome, and the trip trashed his airship. We got it repaired, but there might be some bad blood there.”

Captain Vilmos bristled, hands tensing on top of the table. “He’s with Lady Suri right now, is he not? Is she safe?”

“She hasn’t called an S.O.S, but let me check.” I pulled up my HUD and shot off a quick one-line message to Suri. “Everything good out there?”

Fifteen seconds later, the chat thread booped, and my narrator read the text to me. “RGR, all good. Halfway to Myszno, no more hostiles. Any news on Ignas?”

“Yeah. In a meeting: I’ll call you in an hour. Love you.”

Suri sent back two characters: <3

“Yeah. Suri’s fine.” I closed the HUD and refocused on the people in front of me.

Istvan and Vilmos both relaxed. Slightly.

Across the room, Vash cleared his throat. "Baru are trained to soothsay: to tell lies from truth. That man who arrived here with the ship, Gar... he's got his secrets, but when I look at him, I see only a man in great pain. I saw no signs of a traitor in him. I'll be the first to say I'm not infallible, but by Rusulka's salty wet-“

“Ahem.” Istvan coughed, shooting a glance at Nemeth.

“-pussy hairs,” Vash finished emphatically. “If any of the Starborn we know are sending information back to Violetta, Dragozin, I'll shave my head in shame."

"You're right: you're not infallible. But it’s comforting to hear." I shook my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Alright... let's shelve the mystery of Janos’ information sources for the time being, and refocus on Ignas. Assuming the regent is a piece of shit, it's up to Ignas' personal allies to stage a rescue. Any ideas?"

"There simply must a Revalan resistance," Rutha said, glancing briefly at everyone around the table. "Revala is a fiercely independent nation, proud and deeply loyal to their queen, and its rugged lands breed hard people. The lords of the land are more like warrior-chiefs than foppish courtiers. Ilia is likely seeking to requisition the Vlachian fleet to suppress the rest of the country. I can only imagine the uproar going on beyond - and perhaps within - Lovi itself."

"If there's a resistance, my prince will know of them," Nethres added.

“Which prince is that?” Istvan asked her.

“Illandi,” Nethres replied softly. “I work for the Kingsmen of Ilia. We have contacts and supporters in Revala. Don't know the names of those contacts, though: just that we have them."

"Could any of them help us get into Lovi?" I asked her. "Because from what Rutha just said about the Revalans being both proud and tough, it's unlikely they're imprisoning Ignas outside of the city."

"If I could get back to base, I could ask," Nethres replied, blinking back at me. She had big brown eyes, like a deer, and a homey, horsey face she hadn't glamorized when she'd entered the game. "But it'll take me a week or more to fly back. Quazi aren't as fast as dragons."

Karalti made a chirping sound low in her throat. "If I get some sleep, I can teleport you in the morning."

"Or, if you can give me mana and furnish me an oratory, I can teleport you," Rutha added. "I need an oculeaum, but surely there is one to be found in Karhad somewhere."

"An ocu-what?" I asked her.

She flashed me a look of mock-exasperation. "An oculeaum is a device for creating temporary portals. Three mana-conducting pylons, set in a ring around a magical circle."

"Oh... wait. You know what? We actually have a set of those in the castle." I punched my fist into my other palm. "We looted them out of Al Asad."

Rutha smiled. "Well, as long as they're in reasonably good shape and you can furnish me with some bluecrystal mana, I can warp both the lady and her quazi to any destination of her choosing."

"They should be. And if they aren't, we can call in some of the Khorsian priests from the city to fix them." I nodded to her, then looked to Nethres. "You're sure you're willing to put us in touch with your allies?"

"Sure. The Kingsmen were made for this.” Nethres shrugged. "Besides… Ignas seems alright. Explained why he needed me to stay in Vulkan Keep for a while, made sure I was comfortable. Got EXP and some gold out of it, too."

"Then party up with me so we can message each other more easily," I said. "As soon as you know what assistance your faction can offer, get in touch. We’ll see what Rutha can do. If that falls through, then Karalti can port you. She has to sleep six hours to replenish her spells, but we can warp in as soon as she's rested."

Nethres jerked her chin toward me. "Sounds like the start of a plan."

I looked to Nemeth, next. "Mastersage, how much do you know about Revala?"

Kythias winced.

"I am, in fact, the leading historian of Vlachia, in case the title of ‘Mastersage’ has never been explained to you," the sage replied curtly. “I’m assuming you want a brisk, if not superficial education in Revalan history, culture and the formation of Lovi, along with its royal palace."

"I do. Any information on the layout and history of the city, its prisons and dungeons and things like that will help us infiltrate the place." I looked over to Istvan and Vilmos. "Myszno really needs the pair of you right now. Vilmos, do you have any experience recruiting and handling spies?"

The burly Castellan nodded. "Yes, my lord. Some."

"I want you to put out feelers to gain us spies in Czongrad," I said. "We have enough money to pay for good informants. I’m going to tap the Nightstalkers and have you meet with them.”

“The… The Nightstalkers? The crime syndicate?” Vilmos recoiled in his chair.

“This information doesn’t leave this room, but Ignas was the leader of the Nightstalkers during his exile,” I said. “They’re still on his side, and we need to know what Janos is doing. The Nightstalkers have the personnel and resources for this job."

"I… I did not know that. I understand, sire, and will see what can be done." Vilmos cleared his throat, recovering from his moment of shock, and thumped his fist to his heart.

I turned to Istvan next. The Steward regarded me keenly. He was a man better described as pretty than handsome, with a lean, chiseled face, dusky skin, and intelligent green eyes no longer clouded by liquor and depression.

"Two jobs for you," I said. “The first and largest task is to form possible strategies for defending the province at all levels, from the largest theater of war to the local defense of Karhad and Kalla Sahasi. You don’t have to get massively specific yet - I just want to know what our weak spots are, and to start brainstorming ideas about how to make them strengths. Secondly, I need you to call a conclave of all local rulers in the province. One representative from each duchy, freehold, and major tribe needs to meet with me, here, as soon as we bring Ignas home. If all goes well, that’ll be within 48 hours - so say within the next three days.”

“Understood, Your Grace.” Istvan drew a deep breath at these ambitious orders - but he and I both knew that he could pull it off.

"As for Ignas, the extraction team will leave as soon as we hear back from Nethres about support from the Kingsmen. I already know who I want." My gaze settled on Vash, who gave me an ironic little bow, then on Karalti. "Me, Karalti, Vash, Ebisa... and Mehkhet."

"Wait. You’re bringing the ghost?" Vash grimaced. "The unholy, undead abomination? The blight of-“

“-Your library?” Mehkhet’s ghostly, dry-leaves-on-a-sidewalk voice rustled through the room on a soft, cold breeze. The wraith, a recently deceased Dakhari Sage, was pretty much always summoned whenever I spoke his name. “A library which is now audited and ready to be sorted, Your Grace.”

“Awesome. Thanks, man.” I couldn’t see him: but I could feel his unearthly presence moving through the walls of the War Room. He was mine to command… but as a Greater Shade, he still had a personality, and a mind and will of his own. “I appreciate the work you put in. And yes, Vash - Mehkhet’s perfect for this job. He can move through walls, doors, and iron bars. He can take out people in complete silence, if we have to kill anyone.”

Vash scowled. “By sucking their life-force out their hooyeh.”

“Do not think to lecture me, baru. Your career is built on a heap of corpses,” Mehkhet hissed. “I was a principled man all my life before I died. No one is more repulsed by my current state than I. Still, I consent to aid the last Corvinus. In doing so, I shall achieve the dream I never attained in life: to become a part of Artana’s history.”

Vash shot me a sharp look, then sighed and scratched his chin with one metal finger. “Ehhh… fine. I suppose being able to fart through walls and doors is useful. And the Black God hasn’t struck us down for consorting with this wretched haunt, eh?”

“More’s the pity,” Mehkhet replied dourly.

“Cut it out, both of you,” I said. “The five of us working together will ace this rescue mission. We'll bang out a plan of action as soon as we know what's happening with the Kingsmen."

"Then I suppose we should get to it, then." Rutha looked to Nethres, who nodded agreement and rose.

"Sure. Best place for working magic is the library," I replied. "There's some guest quarters right next to it. Rutha, I'll assign those to you and have those ocu… octopillars sent up."

"Thank you." She smiled at me, then turned her gaze to Nethres. "If you don't mind, Lady Nethres... my wheelchair was left behind in Taltos, and I can't walk. If it’s not too much trouble, could you carry me?"

Nethres' freckled cheeks turned pink. She made a terse sound of agreement, and equipped her winged, visored helmet to conceal her expression as she went to go and scoop Rutha into her arms. She picked her up, and nearly dropped her as Mehkhet finally emerged, slithering from the walls into the open. He still passingly resembled the tall, shaven-headed man he’d been in life, but was mostly just an intimidating mass of seething black energy. His substance seeming to boil off into the air around him. Istvan was the closest: as he leaned away, his breath began to frost.

“If the lady would follow me,” Mehkhet intoned. “I will escort you to the library.”

“… Sure.” Nethres looked to me for guidance. I gave her a thumbs-up. “Thanks, uh, Mehkhet.”

The wraith inclined his head to her, but then paused, and turned toward Nemeth and Kythias with a deep bow. “To think that I needed to pass the veil to finally meet the renowned Mastersage of Vlachia. ‘Tis an honor.”

Kythias looked like he was about to faint. The Mastersage was tight-lipped, but after a moment of hesitation, he bowed from the neck to the wraith and stood. “The honor is mine, Mehkhet the Illuminator. Your name is familiar to me. I have read some of your books,” he replied in fluent Dakhari.

Mehkhet recoiled in surprise… then clasped his hands up against his chest. “You… you did?”

“Of course,” Nemeth replied. “Your histories on the matriarchal history of Dakhdir were superb. I spent several months following up your primary sources. All solid, unsensationalized and authentic. Marvelous work.”

The billowing form of the sage swelled with pride. “Well… I am flattered. To say that making study of the old queens of Dakhdir was an arduous process is to understate the dangers. I could regale you with tales of close calls, betrayals, scandals…”

“I can only imagine,” Nemeth replied. “Might we also accompany you?”

Mehkhet turned his sightless, shadowy face toward me.

“Sure. Go ahead.” I gave him a thumb’s up.

“Thank you… Master.” As he flourished toward me, I felt him test my command, half-heartedly prying at my mental defenses. As wraiths went, Mehkhet was pretty chill. But he couldn’t help being what he was.

“In your dreams,” I thought back to him. “Get them to the library, and stop fucking around. If you need to feed before the mission, go outside the limits of Karhad and find some asshole bandits.”

“Ugh, bandits… disgusting.” The probing stopped, and Mehkhet returned his attention to our guests. “Then if ALL of you would be so kind…”

As the five of them departed, I turned back to the remaining faces at the table. "Alright: everyone else knows what they're doing?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Istvan bowed gracefully from the neck.

"Sir!" Vilmos saluted smartly.

Vash yawned, scratched his crotch, then gave me a thumbs-up.

"Then let's go get some rest." I looked back at Karalti, who smiled. "And enjoy every second of it, because I feel like we’re about to land feet-first in a literal royal shit-show."