Chapter 173 - Seeker (Patreon)

Mirian stood by the prow of the passenger ship, letting the wind whip at her as she waited for shore to appear. Already, she was impatient to get to Vadriach City. Her mother may have loved ships, but she couldn’t see the appeal. They rocked around too much for her to do much work, and the smell of rotting kelp and salt got tiresome.

It was the 170th time loop. She’d spent two loops in Akana Praediar already. She hadn’t used any soul magic or illusions; the Republic Intelligence Division knew how to detect those. She hadn’t caused any explosions or airship chases or stolen tens of thousands of doubloons; she still wasn’t sure how closely Ibrahim was watching for her, or how many other time travelers were in play.

Instead, she’d just laid low, getting a feel for what ‘normal’ felt like. She’d walked the streets of Mercanton. She’d scouted out the RID headquarters in Vadriach, then gotten a sense of the University’s wards. Unfortunately for her, they were a lot more robust than those in a place like Torrviol, and she’d discovered laws on spellcasting were much more strict in Akana Praediar.

At last, Vadriach City appeared on the horizon.

It was a sprawling city, bigger than Palendurio and Cairnmouth put together. It also had several towers that nearly rivaled Torrian Tower in height, all of which had been built in the last decade. The coast was full of docks, warehouses, and spell-engine powered cranes, with ships arriving and departing constantly. The only city that was bigger was Mercanton, which boasted the most factories of any city on Enteria.

Mirian hoped their prodigious industrial might could be put to use. Their spell engines could be used to model the leyline collapse. She was also praying the spell engines might be put to some use in regulating the leylines. She could channel at 107 myr, putting her well over the threshold for ‘archmage.’ However, a large arcane eruption or leyline breach put out arcane power measured in tens of thousands of myr.

That was why her first priority was seeing if she could recruit any of the other time travelers. She could marshal an army, kill a myrvite titan, and duel an archmage. But she couldn’t even conceive of a way of stopping the apocalypse alone.

Another thing was bothering her. As best she could tell, removing the Elder device in Troytin had somehow extended the end of the world by six days. There was something else, beyond simply the leyline collapse, at work.

She didn’t have the slightest idea what.

“Mirian? Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind her.

This cycle, Mirian had decided she was tired of journeying alone, so she’d recruited a student from the Academy to come with her. She had all sorts of justifications, like how it would introduce extra changes into each cycle, making her harder to track, or how the other student knew the country better than she did, but in the end, she knew herself well enough to know they were excuses. She’d asked Selesia to come with her because she reminded her of a simpler time, and she was a kind, friendly person she could talk to.

Selesia came and stood by her. “It’s really something, isn’t it?” she said, speaking in Eskanar because Mirian needed the practice with the language.

“It is. Amazing what people can build.”

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Selesia to come with her. First she was shocked to learn her crush was actually a Prophet, then elated when Mirian took her on a short flight, then disappointed that Mirian no longer wanted their relationship to be anything but friendship, then excited for a month-long adventure where she could skip school with no consequences.

Once she understood that part, things that would have normally been shocking—like purchasing counterfeit papers from the criminal Syndicate—didn’t bother her so much.

Together, they watched the city grow larger until Mirian could make out the spell engine-powered wagons moving about the streets. They used them enough that Mirian could feel a subtle pressure on her aura as she walked the streets from all the excess D-class mana not burned in the engines. Akana Praediar seemed like Baracuel, but a few steps past what a normal person considered ‘sane.’

“So what’s our, uh, mission?” Selesia asked.

“This time, we’re looking for another time traveler. A wizard named Jherica. Except they might be incapacitated.”

Selesia leaned on the railing. “This is so weird. Like, I should be in classes, but… it’s so strange. I didn’t expect to come back home for another two years.” She sniffed. “Not that Vadriach is much like home. Takoa is much more reasonably sized, and you can’t smell it from a mile off-shore.”

Mirian smiled. That was another thing she’d found while scouting the city: a lot of Akanans were stuck-up snobs who acted like other people’s existence were a personal affront to them. Selesia hated it just as much as she did. It would be nice to have someone to help keep her sane.

There was another good reason to be in Akana Praediar.

Ibrahim had somehow figured out how to recruit the arch-necromancer Atroxicidi to his cause. It was likely that within the next few cycles, the entire eastern half of Baracuel would fall to Dawn’s Peace and the undead army the other time traveler now commanded.

Mirian badly wanted to study one of the undead soldiers and figure out how it worked. However, even getting close to a necromancer with that kind of power was a needless risk. If anyone would know how to bypass the protections of the temporal anchor, it was a legendary necromancer who had killed several archmages.

As soon as they docked, Mirian was waiting by the plank. Desperately, she wanted to just levitate down, but that would get the city guard called on her, and that was what she was trying to avoid.

“So did you come often to Vadriach?” Mirian asked Selesia when they finally made it down the plank and onto the streets. She’d packed light, as always.

“Only once as a kid, but then I passed through regularly when I was going to Riverside Academy. Since, you know, it’s upriver from Vadriach. Uh, don’t roll your ‘r’s when you talk, it’ll stand out.”

“Right,” Mirian said. She’d picked them up new clothing in Palendurio that was more of an Akanan style, but walking through the streets, she still stood out because of her slightly darker skin. Still, there were plenty of people from all over the world in Vadriach. Selesia had advised her that it would only really be a problem if she went to somewhere like Ferrabridge or further west where the prejudice was a lot worse.

“You ever apply for the Academy here?”

“No, I didn’t bother. You either have to be a prodigy or have connections. Oh, we should go two blocks north! There’s a great restaurant, owned by… well, he’s a distant relative. You’ve never had genuine Takoa food, right?”

“Never have,” Mirian said.

“How’s your spice tolerance?”

“One-half of Professor Torres’s,” Mirian said. Then to clarify, “She special orders her dishes with scarlet fire peppers.”

Selesia laughed. “Okay, I won’t do that to you. How’d that happen, anyways? East Baracuel likes spices, south Akana likes spices, but in between them, spices are heretical! I’d die if I had to live in Mercanton. They think sugar is a substitute for flavor.”

“No idea,” Mirian said.

When she’d first stepped foot in Vadriach City, Mirian had looked at the grime and trash everywhere and wondered why anyone wanted to live there. The answer, though, was several blocks away, where the streets were pristine, the churches beautiful, and the parks full of laughing children and monuments to the glory of Akana Praediar. Then, another dozen blocks away, trash piles again. The Akanan Capital was a hell of a mixed bag, it seemed.

They ate lunch at Selesia’s restaurant, then made their way to a post office.

Selesia took the lead, having been coached by Mirian over lunch. “I’m looking to send a letter to one ‘Jherica,’” Selesia told the woman at a desk. “They’re a member of the University.”

The woman looked at her. “Is that the first name or last name?”

Selesia grimaced and shrugged.

The bureaucrat gave an annoyed sigh, then got out a thick tome from beneath her desk. She flipped back and forth between a few pages, then raised an eyebrow. “Professor Sio Jherica?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” Selesia said, brightening.

The woman gave out the address, and they left with a polite thanks. Then they headed towards the river and Vadriach University.

Naturally, the University was in the nicer parts of town. The campus was surrounded by meticulously groomed lawns. Mirian expected to see the gardeners using precision measuring sticks on the blades, but it turned out the gardeners used a spell engine that used a rotating force blade and a collect material spell.

As soon as they walked onto the campus, the spell engines appeared everywhere. Instead of using ropes and platforms for their elevators, they used large force disks. The towers and domes were capped with bronze, and small maintenance engines on the roofs both kept the metal from tarnishing and were used to clean the gutters. The campus even had a miniaturized tram system that regularly shuttled students around. There were enchanted fountains that offered up water on command, and apparently, an underground conveyor system that paralleled the storm drains and sewers, and was used to move around both goods and trash. At night, the entire campus was lit up with blue and white glyph lamps.

It was a showcase of what future cities might look like. It was also a display of the wealth and power of the university.

The annoying part was the security. Anyone could wander onto campus, but to use a lift, a tram, or even to enter a building without a force barrier popping into place, one needed a glyphkey. Fortunately, Mirian had recently cracked the glyph security of the Allards. The keys they gave out to students was much easier to break. She’d done it in a few hours last cycle, then made herself and Selesia a key while they were on the train from Torrviol to Cairnmouth.

The professors had a special part of campus where an idyllic little neighborhood had been constructed for them. It was, naturally, surrounded by gates, fences, wards, and had servants roaming about it. The wrought-iron fences around the neighborhood were warded to detect levitation or any tampering.

However, the security flaw was in something Mirian had begun to call being ‘spellbrained.’ People too immersed in magic tried to find magical solutions for everything, and didn’t think about what non-magic could do. She wasn’t sure if she’d invented the phrase or picked it up from someone. Either way, she was glad the Labyrinth had taught her a bit about that particular lesson.

They waited around campus until dinner time, when people were more likely to be indoors, but before the night patrols around the perimeter started. Mirian then had Selesia grab onto her back.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Selesia said, voice quiet.

Mirian burned a bit of soul energy from the repositories in her soulbound book and used it to fuel the Last Fires of the Phoenix dervish stance. She gripped the wrought iron poles of the fence and hauled herself up them, Selesia in tow, then vaulted them over with a ‘hup!’

Selesia made a squeaking noise as they landed. “God you’re strong,” she said.

Mirian smiled. “Alright. Keep quiet. If I read the map right, Jherica’s place is that one.” She pointed to a squat building with a patio and garden.

There was a window around back, hidden from the view of the other houses by a well-kept garden. Mirian peered inside. The glyph lamps were lit, but there was no movement. She headed for the patio and the back door.

The door’s lock was warded, and used a different kind of glyphkey that was more complex. The door’s hinges weren’t. Mirian used a magnetic spell to burst them open, then they pushed inside. She propped the door back in place.

“God, my heart is pounding, but you’re so calm. How much breaking and entering have you done?” Selesia whispered.

“Too much,” Mirian muttered.

They made their way upstairs. There was an absolutely foul smell. Selesia made a gagging noise. They found the bedroom by smell, easily. Sure enough, there was Professor Jherica, laying on the bed. He looked peaceful, like he was just asleep. So Troytin had told the truth about at least one thing in his final hours.

“What happened? Why does it smell so bad?” Selesia asked.

“He’s been asleep since the cycle started four days ago. He’s probably suffering from dehydration. I’m surprised he isn’t dead yet.” She didn’t mention he’d pissed and shit himself repeatedly. It seemed a bit rude to point out.

As Mirian approached, she examined his soul. It spoke of nasty internal injuries, likely all associated with his coma. Specter’s lethargy curse had been relatively primitive. That was what she’d expected to encounter.

Instead, this curse was in Jherica’s head, deeply integrated into his soul. She visualized it as thin dark lines swirling about, like black threads moving in a luminous sphere. That they were moving about his soul and tiny would make them impossible to pick apart. For all that she used it, Mirian still knew relatively little about soul magic. The similarities, though, were oddly reminiscent of the memory curse someone had applied to her as a child.

I need to get these agents to teach me what they know. They must have a way to break the curse. She stared at Jherica. She’d almost ended up like this. The agents, or a necromancer. But one I can trust. She shook her head. That wouldn’t be easy to find.

“I can’t heal him,” Mirian said. “So we do plan B.”

“We have a plan B?”

“Oh yes. I’ve become quite paranoid. I always have backup plans now. And backup plans for the backup plans.” Mirian glanced up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a small, perfectly round hole, just like the one in her own ceiling. “First, though, I want to sweep his house. He’ll survive another hour. I want to know what kind of resources he starts the time loop with.”

Selesia gave her a look. “That’s kinda creepy.”

Mirian returned the look. “I have a playing card called ‘the fate of the world is at stake,’ and I’m going play that one right now. I use that card to justify all sorts of things.”

The young woman furrowed her brow. “That’s not how playing cards work.”

Mirian shrugged and started looking through Jherica’s belongings. “I don’t actually know how cards work.”

“What!?” Selesia said.

“Not going to learn, either,” she said. Jherica’s spellbook was in his nightstand, which was convenient. His spells reminded her of Professor Endresen’s. There were a great deal of spells related to lensing, alchemistry, and material divination. Not much in the way of combat. Of course, she would have no way of knowing what he’d been learning before Troytin got him cursed. Nor how it might change him.

Jhertica had several notebooks. He’d been doing research related to complex spell engines. Him, and half of the University. His biggest resources, though, would be in his contacts. A useful ally, if he’s not insane like Troytin or Ibrahim.

“Okay,” Mirian said, satisfied. “Let’s see if the church or RID can undo this.”

They headed out the back door and Mirian triggered one of the many ward alarms.