§130 Green Notice (Patreon)

Taylor stood and turned toward them. "Ah, our Lady of Perpetual Annoyance. I knew the day was too peaceful to last." He was more polite to the partners and engaged them pleasantly about the wine they had brought and when the house might be open. His hands and voice did most of his emoting for him, while his face remained passive. Cecilia had said he had callouses from wearing masks, but Prudence couldn't see them. Then again, he was supposed to be a capable healer, on top of everything else.

"What's all of this?" Donbrook peered at the stacks of paper, while Pearl observed the clutch of people around the brick hut.

"Did you know this estate was haunted?" The question was addressed to Donbrook.

"I never held much store by it. The church has been around enough times to drive off any ghosts for good. But the property might be cursed. The owners always abandon the house or come to bad ends."

"You may also recall that Celosia is built on the remains of an older city. That city sat atop a far older settlement, whose king is buried under that hut. The seals must have cracked a couple of centuries ago, and the occupant has been running rampant ever since.

"It's a good archaeological find, though." He pushed the papers toward Donbrook, Pearle, and Prudence. The top sheet was a sketch of the tomb's contents arranged around the central coffin, with numbers penciled in with care. Prudence found the relevant legend on another sheet and scanned through it. Piles of ancient coins and ingots. Small statuary. Jewelry and adornments. Cloth and leather goods, in varying states of decay.

"At least the lawyers and scholars are having fun. They'll set up a foundation to manage it all, build an exhibit somewhere, and it'll be someone else's problem."

"You're giving it away?" Pearl did his best to sound less astounded than he was.

"Not all of it. I'll keep a couple of good pieces, and the less interesting parts will get sold off to fund the exhibit. But the real value is archaeological, so I'd like to keep most of it together for as long as possible. It won't last, of course." Taylor nudged his teacup toward Chambers, who reappeared with a fresh pot. "I give it less than a century before somebody quietly embezzles all the best parts. But at least people will get a chance to study it in the meantime. And I'll get my name on something, if I want it."

Prudence nearly choked on the absurdity. "Really? You can't even manage to buy a house like a normal person?"

"Like I told your family, I'm irregular in every respect." He didn't sound unhappy with the situation.

For the first time, Prudence wondered why she even cared. His family had cast him out, so he had to find his own way through life. If he wanted to buy up haunted properties and uncover ancient tombs, why shouldn't he? It wasn't like he had family telling him not to. He was free to do whatever he wanted.

As was Prudence, as of today.

Her father had threatened to cut her off, and in so doing, had unwittingly given her an opportunity she craved. She had dived for it with barely a second thought.

"Tsk. Is Cecilia here?"

"In the crypt. Would you like to see? Hardly anything has been moved. Very few people will ever see it this way."

After promising not to touch anything, they passed by the knot of lawyers and scholars arguing over security, funding, and access rights, and descended into the brightly-lit crypt, filled with riches historical and tangible. Wards predating Spellscript etched protections into the walls. Cecelia stood near the large stone coffin, Strife above her in his battle-frenzied pose. She smiled at Prudence, who was relieved to see her, even in that strange place.

Gently, so as not to disturb the grave goods, they eased close to the coffin one at a time to look into the withered face of an ancient king.

"So this chieftan or whatever was haunting the place?"

"Him?" Taylor replied. "No. His soul was long departed. Look at his feet."

She saw the arc's remains, a shattered collar around her neck. She was curled up like an animal at the foot of its master's bed.

"She came this close to killing me." He said something in arcaic, a poem perhaps, full of an emotion that arcs likely had a special word for. It wasn't happy, exactly. More like a long-held pain had finally been released, and the author could sleep for the first time in years. "She's free now. Poor thing."

"She nearly kills you, and you feel sorry for her?"

"We don't know what she was before. Her master chained her soul here to guard his treasure, while his own was free to reincarnate. If I were confined to a box for a thousand years, I might turn out the same way."

They withdrew with care, passing untold wealth that had been worth exactly nothing to the dead buried with it. Once they arrived on the surface, Taylor sealed the tomb with barely a twitch of his finger and sealed the hut built over the stairs. The wind was picking up. Servants took down the awning and rolled away the cart with tea and everything else before it blew away. The group threaded its way toward the shelter of the underfurnished house. Scholars argued over what the find meant. Lawyers argued over legal constructs to keep the discovery intact.

"Cici, they kicked me out."

"Why?" Cecilia's hand grasped hers as they walked. "What happened?"

"I declined Quartermaster. In front of the whole family."

"That's huge!"

Prudence told her a brief version of the scene and that she planned to live at school.

"I've always wanted to share a room with you at the dorm. Now my dream can come true!"

Prudence's lips twitched upward. "That's pretty small, as dreams go. You should aim higher. Also, the dorms aren't open yet, so I have to find a place to stay. And it could be uncomfortable for you at Vawdrey House."

"She'll stay here, of course," Taylor declared. "You're both welcome guests until the term starts. But stay any longer than that, and I'll charge you rent."

"Brother…"

"Both of you."

"Brother!"

Prudence began the usual courtesy of pretending to decline, only for Taylor to preempt her with a wave. "Cook is dying for new palates to entertain. You do me a favor by staying."

A man dressed for groundskeeping work handed Taylor a card from the most recent post. He opened it, glanced at the contents, and tucked it away somewhere. "I'll update you by mirror if I won't be home tonight," he informed his servant.

"Tristan?"

The word apparently meant enough to Taylor that he responded. "I'll use Daisy."

"Are you running off again?" There was a warning in Cecilia's voice. "You're not fully healed."

"I don't know. Dwergbank is holding a green notice for me, so there's probably an emergency somewhere." Prudence thought she detected a trace of an affectionate smile. "Try not to worry. I'll keep everyone posted by mirror, and I'll make thorough use of the armies."

He excused himself and left his guests in the hands of his staff.

Taylor — Estfold

The timing was unfortunate. If Meltissa had posted her request to the governor an hour earlier, the bank would have been open, and the message would have reached him that same evening. Instead, he got it on the first post the next day. The location was a problem, too. He didn't have a good map of southern Estfold, nor did he have a conveniently located portal tree. He ended up portaling to a town south of Mourne by way of Twilight, and then took to the sky in slime form, following the roads so he wouldn't get lost. He could travel faster than the speed of sound when he put his mind to it, but the layers of magic required for that feat could drain him quickly. It was better to arrive with his mana full and his mind fresh.

His destination was a walled village of Iredale in the thinly populated borderland with Dimmik. It occupied an open stretch of land north of the border hills, with the Rosewood forest in the distance. Such remote townships were invariably founded by would-be lords, counter-culture groups, or romantics who yearned for a rustic life. A few struck it rich in mining, but such fortunes seldom lasted beyond a generation or two. It was the fate of any extractive industry to outlive its own resources, then die a dwindling death as citizens gave up on a town without a future.

When he arrived, a battle was already raging. The majority of the fighting was centered around one section of the wall where they had broken through. IEF troops specialized for defence formed a semi-circle behind the broken section of the wall. Monsters poured into the breach, only to find themselves halted and corralled by an impenetrable fence of Bastions and normal soldiers trained to take advantage of Bastion abilities.

Regular soldiers made good use of nearby rooftops, firing freely into the mass of trapped monsters with pistols. Mages lifted the corpses and threw them out of the town to keep the killing floor clear.  There were a few especially large shapes on the field, dead by the looks of it. They had curled horns and short brown coats.

Taylor circled the battlefield once to get a full measure of the situation from the air and locate the center of command. The IEF had control of the breech, but a far larger mass of monsters waited in the distance, doing nothing. The adversary must have tamers, and those would be the key personnel to remove. Whoever was in charge was either feeling out the defenders or thought they could win with only part of their forces. Every monster seemed willing to fight to the death.

He took human form slightly outside of the town and well above it, dropped white-hot sparks, and let himself be seen as he traipsed along suspended planes of force. For the occasion, he wore the mask and robes that people recognized. He didn't approach immediately, but waited for a sign from below. The monsters didn't hesitate. A few shot spines or threw rocks at him, but they lost their velocity trying to reach him at that height, and Taylor evaded them with ease.

A magically projected voice told him to approach, so he floated down on his Disk of Slow Decent. There was scattered applause, mostly from summoned spirits of arcaic defenders, and chants of, "Dux! Dux! Dux!" as he landed near the IEF commander, perched atop an exceptionally tall coach with the imperial sigil worked into the door. When he landed, he ignored the muted complaints filling the interior. He'd read a prince was leading the detachment. Maybe he was inside the coach.

"Commander, I'm Taylor, Dux Twilight. I have two hundred and fifty spirits at my command, mid-second tier and higher."

The officer took his offered hand and shook it. "Commander Bolan. We've met once before, in Midway. No offense, Taylor, but I don't want you firing spells into my formation. If you want to do something useful, our enemy's main force hasn't committed yet. If you can keep them occupied, it'd be really helpful."

"Tell me about the specials."

"Cadmius can fill you in. Cadmius!" The commander shouted to get the man's attention and pointed him out. The fighter stood on the roof of a separate fast coach, next to Curator Jane. He had the nerve to let his hair glint in the sunlight and ruffle heroically in the wind. It would have been more impressive if the wind didn't smell of gore.

Ex-Paladin Cadmius. The man who cut his hand off. He knew from Jane's letters that he was doing good work these days, but Taylor still felt a surge of caution on the heels of his recent defeat. Cadmius was a deadly fighter, even without his Paladin powers. Taylor Airwalked to join them atop the coach, more than an arm's reach away.

"Meltissa. You must have found something interesting to wind up like this."

"Long time, Taylor. You remember Cadmius."

"Oathbreaker. Limbtaker. Hard to forget." Taylor showed an open hand, but didn't offer to shake. This wasn't the time to linger on old injuries. One jab was enough. For the time being.

"Likewise." Cadmius looked him over cautiously, as if he might get punished a second time, and returned the gesture.

"I'd like to summon my leaders and have you explain the specials to them so they aren't hearing it second-hand. That all right with you?"

"You may," he said in a doubting voice, "if that's what you think is best."

Taylor didn't use any of the usual showy incantations, as he had already promised his armies they would have a public send-off. He willed his Army of Lightness and several proctor-level spirits into Aarden to stand on the ground below. As a feat of magic, the total lack of ceremony made it all the more impressive. Taylor briefed them on the overall situation and turned them over to Cadmius.

For a second, the veteran fighter just stared at the strange assortment of powerful spirits, while the sound of fighting at the breach continued, unbroken. There was a large dog on fire, a woman made of vines, an elf, an incorporeal butler, and several more strange beings arrayed in front of him. Cadmius was familiar with summoned spirits, but each of these was as strong as a third-tier mortal. The ex-paladin decided to brief them like he would any other group of officers.

"The rams are invulnerable from the front. They will crash through barriers and trample people to death. If they charge at you, don't attack the head; you'll just waste your strength. Move out of the way and aim for softer points. After they hit something hard, they stand around in a daze. That's your best opportunity to hit back from the flanks.

"The leaders are mana beasts. They look like beastkin from a distance, but they're reptilian. There are two types that we know of so far. One tames monsters, and the other tames people. The people-tamers are the scary ones. We've seen them handle up to three dozen slaves. The slaves don't fight very well, but they fight without fear or pain, while the tamers stay out of sight. Hagar's Barrier is the most effective protection against the enslaving beasts that we've discovered thus far. If a teammate starts acting strangely, put them down, non-lethally if you can. Killing a tamer releases the tamed creatures. Most, but not all, of the monsters will choose to run. The humans go to sleep. So far, we haven't been able to wake them up."

Cadmius glanced at Meltissa, who nodded encouragement at him. 

"This last part is speculation, but I think there is a mastermind in control of the tamers. If you see a different kind of mana beast on the field, treat it with extreme caution. We don't know anything about it."

Cadmius spoke for another minute, and Taylor disbanded his leaders to brief their teams. He would have liked more time to prepare, but he needed his army in the field before the main force decided to attack. He would have a momentary advantage if he attacked from behind.

"You two need anything before I go?"

Cadmius grunted and said he was fine, while keeping one eye on the action at the breach. He visibly itched to throw himself into the fray, but the commander was keeping him back. Meltissa drew her pistols and removed the mana stones that powered them. They were shaped like the standard imperial issue, but were made in Taylor's crystalarium. "Got any more of these? Mine are empty."

Taylor took them both in hand for several seconds to charge them completely and handed them back. "Have they performed okay?"

"Better than okay. People noticed."

Cadmius looked on with envy. "Did you just hand her a hundred shots?"

"Two hundred." Taylor handed her two more gems made from the same mold, already full. He always carried several in his satchel, on the theory they might be useful if he had to assist wardens. The standard soldier could fire ten or so times with their own mana and carried enough stones for thirty more shots.

"Want some?" Taylor produced two more. Cadmius didn't carry a pistol, but his splint armor was crowded with inscribed spells. He tossed the stones to the ex-paladin, who caught them with a bright grin.

"It's been a while since I could power up the whole suit. Thanks."

Taylor nodded to the pair. "Try not to die."