"Could you be a mystic that doesn't know about his own gifts?"
"I am just getting confused by your words now," replied Vern to the swordsman, continuing his charade of ignorance.
The man leaned in and whispered next to Vern's ear, "Do you not have a Spirit Sight, my friend? Do you not see the world in colors of your own?"
Yeah, he knows. So Vern tried to probe him for more information in a quiet voice of his own, "I don't have this Spirit sight you speak of, but even if I did, I don't see how that's any of your concern."
The man withdrew and tapped his temple with his index and middle finger before moving onto his throat, then chest, and finally, the wrist of his sword hand as he enunciated each word clearly, "My friend, know that the gift of gods mustn't be wasted. For those chosen by the gods shall come together to banish the evil and keep the innocent out of harm's way."
What had he gotten himself into? Was this another effort at converting him?
Vern stared at the man and his sword, contemplating his next course of action. It might not be in his best interest to share everything, but if a little pretending can get him more information about 'Spirit Sight,' why would he say no? Calming down his still-thumping heart, he continued, "I am indeed an avid believer of Lady Lennix. Can you explain more about this Spirit Sight?"
"For one blessed by the goddess, you sure know too little, my friend. Come, walk with me back to our head station. Someone there can determine your blessing. If it is not from an evil god, I shall explain everything to you."
Test my blessing? What even was a blessing, anyway? His Observation wasn't a gift from some god. It wasn't, right?
Vern sank into contemplation yet again. Did the burden of Cryptic Constructor count as the blessing of an evil god? But the swordsman had been using the word blessing in the context of a 'chance to Observe' or something along those lines.
Well. That's sad. What will they do if they learn about my 'evil blessing?' Better not find out. Miss Cera will help me out anyway.
But when Vern focused back to reply, the swordsman's eyes were closed, and his body seemed tense.
"Mister, I don't think—" the man waved his arm, interrupting Vern.
.
.
.
Then in a while, he spoke rapidly, "I must leave now, my friend—for evil is rearing its head once again! But know that Vigil of the Duskfall is embracing new blessed in its fold. Show this to anyone at the station and tell them I gave it to you. They won't ignore you like some mundane."
Dropping a silver badge that resembled an eye in Vern's hands, he pulled his crumpled hat down, nodded, and turned around, "May the clarity guide your path, my friend."
Vern stood there dumbfounded with his hand outstretched as the man exited the crowd with uncanny grace, somehow not coming in contact with anyone in the process.
That was…so random. He didn't even tell me his name. He came out of nowhere, and then disappeared just as arbitrarily. Where was this station he talked about? What Vigil of Duskfall?
Vern frowned as shouts of the crowd started registering in his mind again. He looked up at the massive font carved atop the grand building, which read like the name of some bank, and pondered more about this whole situation. It was one thing after another.
Was this swordsman going to be a problem?
.
.
.
Hopefully not. The man seemed friendly, understanding, and…inviting. But what if they really found out about his burden? How was he going to explain that to anyone? One Hensen was already enough. Another group of people chasing him with pitchforks and swords, to banish him like some evil's spawn didn't sound very enticing.
Hmm, I should be able to make a more informed decision after I read more of that Observation Record in Ari's hands. He pulled out the map and quickly charted a route to Ariane's room.
He would find some time to visit Ascendant Council and this Vigil of Duskfall later. Ari came first.
Done with the route, he assessed his surroundings. It looked like some kind of protest.
"—es Tell us! Give me back my money!"
"Where is my money!!!!"
"I can't feed my child. Please!"
"All my savings—"
Similar yells echoed all around him as they tried to force their way into the building. Seems like something has gone wrong with the money flow in the city. In all honesty, it was a miracle that people could use the currency at all. Past wide-scale fatalities didn't just lead to the collapse of a fiat currency—they ended up bringing down the whole societal structure. This was far better than the worst possible outcome.
Not having anything to do with this protest, he pocketed the badge and weaved through the crowd, exiting it from some other direction than the one he had entered from.
As he navigated the streets, he noticed that the walkways in here were…crammed. Not with people, mind you. There were a few of those here and there, moving around despondently, but the real noteworthy addition was all the tombstones that were arrayed helter-skelter, close to the inner rim of the walkways.
A group of men were actually working on it wholesale. Few embedded more tombstones, some dug up new holes, while the rest carved names on them. I see. They are entombing people right where they disappeared. That sounded…fitting. That man outside Hotel Inkwell might've left the inner district just to pay respect to the ones he lost.
Vern didn't know what to feel about this. So in this sorrowful atmosphere, he walked all the way to the Athenaeum district. This time, the bridge was in use by civilians, and no reaper stood guard to behead any trespassers.
The lack of bustle alongside those hundreds of tombstones hit him harder when he compared this scenery to his last memories of that carriage ride. Quite a number of buildings were in disrepair, their residents nowhere to be seen. Entrances to all the institutions, which used to be bustling with scholars, were devoid of any of that activity.
It was like the civilization had lost its brightness. Just what he expected, but it hit harder than he would've hoped. Was this going to be the new reality? Lifeless institutions, empty houses, unmanned shops, everything just a husk of their former selves?
His brooding continued until he finally stopped outside an ordinary-looking residence on Hartley St. This was Ari's dormitory. He had never been here in person, but all the letters were relayed under this address.
He was doing well in his life for the past few years due to all the royalties, but since earlier this year, he'd been getting a lot more side projects because of his newly-earned reputation as a Savant. However, even with all this, he was far from being rich, and his master had finally started taking a bigger cut out of all his earnings—a cut he fully deserved.
With all this income, he'd been able to pay for Ari's tuition just fine, but she insisted on earning her daily expenses alongside the rent for the dormitory. That grubby Ari back in the library was nothing more than a façade.
This gave him an idea and a mischievous smile played on his lips. Quietly laughing to himself, he entered the building.
Dim sunlight illuminated the insides, and each side of the thin hall had a few doors with numbered wooden plaques next to them. Making his way to the stairs at the back, he ascended them to the only other floor, ambling over to room 202. He fixed his clothes which were a little out of sorts due to all the walking and running, and,
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
After wrapping thrice, he spoke in an artificially high-pitched voice. "Water meter check! Payment is due, please."
Stepping aside, he hid from the view of the peephole. Hehe. Can't miss this reaction for the life of me.
.
.
.
Seconds passed by, but there was no response.
Is she not home?
Vern frowned and knocked again, shouting louder, "Water meter!"
.
.
.
Nothing.
He scowled harder and knocked repeatedly. Not in the mood for jokes anymore, he yelled, "Ari. It's Vern. Open the door."
"Ariane!"
Finally, out of patience, he turned the knob out of frustration.
Clack
Surprisingly, it opened right up, the lock not performing its intended job. What!? Vern's train of thought derailed, as many unwieldly scenarios ran through his mind. Pulling out the revolver from his coat, he readied himself and pushed open the door.
A dark room with its curtains drawn greeted him as he cautiously walked in, surveying all the corners. It wasn't too big, and everything was visible in a single glance. A table had an astrolabe sitting atop it, along with a miniature planetary orrery, tens of books which were stacked haphazardly and crumpled papers.
Next to the window stood a telescope, its viewing mirror primed for stargazing. Then there was a beauty mirror hung on the wall beside a closet which had its doors ajar. Finally, there was the bed, a plethora of papers littered all over it.
But where is Ari?
Heading over to the table, he assessed the star-shaped lamp for a second before he found its string. As he yanked it, the room lit up in a blue glow, and he surveyed it again for things he'd missed.
Checking under the table and finding nothing but dust, he put the revolver back and sat down on the bed. Furrowing his brows, he looked at all the papers in puzzlement. There was nothing wrong with the room. It was just like she had gone out and had yet to be back. But then, why would she leave the door open?
He wouldn't put it past her that she just forgot to lock it in haste, and that would deserve a scolding. But something didn't feel right.
However, he kept his paranoia in check and waited, reading the notes splayed on the bed. She might be back soon.
A top hat rested on the table next to the coat which hung around the chair as Vern paced around the room, glowering at the telescope.
Why is she always making me worry.
Where was she? This didn't feel right. Why was she not back yet? But then, there could be a million reasons. She might have gone to some friends' place, or maybe she was out figuring more about Observation. Or just out to buy something or…
Nothing in the room hinted at anything. The notes were mostly just a bunch of jargon about stars and constellations, and all the books were more of the same.
He shook his head. Might as well ask around. Surely someone else in all these rooms must have an idea, right? This was a dormitory, after all. They might all just be her friends.
So he strode out of the empty room and stopped in front of the room next door—201. Not feeling any shame at disturbing people out of the blue, he knocked.
.
.
.
No one replied. Repeating his earlier actions, he wrapped again, only to be met with silence. So he moved on over to 203.
Knock knock knock
Footsteps echoed, followed by a woman's voice from within, "Can't anyone let me get some rest? Get the fuck away from my room!"
Vern didn't react and simply asked, "Mam, would you happen to know the whereabouts of your neighbor in 202?"
"Yeah, I don't care about pretty bitches. Go away! This is the last warning."
Vern closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and simply moved on. This person wouldn't have told him much anyway.
.
.
.
After another four fruitless attempts, he circled around and reached the door in front of Ari's room, and surprisingly, someone actually came out. It was a girl with naturally curly brown hair and soft eyes, dressed modestly. Before Vern could say something himself, she cried out in amazement, "Could you be…Ariane's brother? That Savant?"
"Could you be a mystic that doesn't know about his own gifts?"
"I am just getting confused by your words now," replied Vern to the swordsman, continuing his charade of ignorance.
The man leaned in and whispered next to Vern's ear, "Do you not have a Spirit Sight, my friend? Do you not see the world in colors of your own?"
Yeah, he knows. So Vern tried to probe him for more information in a quiet voice of his own, "I don't have this Spirit sight you speak of, but even if I did, I don't see how that's any of your concern."
The man withdrew and tapped his temple with his index and middle finger before moving onto his throat, then chest, and finally, the wrist of his sword hand as he enunciated each word clearly, "My friend, know that the gift of gods mustn't be wasted. For those chosen by the gods shall come together to banish the evil and keep the innocent out of harm's way."
What had he gotten himself into? Was this another effort at converting him?
Vern stared at the man and his sword, contemplating his next course of action. It might not be in his best interest to share everything, but if a little pretending can get him more information about 'Spirit Sight,' why would he say no? Calming down his still-thumping heart, he continued, "I am indeed an avid believer of Lady Lennix. Can you explain more about this Spirit Sight?"
"For one blessed by the goddess, you sure know too little, my friend. Come, walk with me back to our head station. Someone there can determine your blessing. If it is not from an evil god, I shall explain everything to you."
Test my blessing? What even was a blessing, anyway? His Observation wasn't a gift from some god. It wasn't, right?
Vern sank into contemplation yet again. Did the burden of Cryptic Constructor count as the blessing of an evil god? But the swordsman had been using the word blessing in the context of a 'chance to Observe' or something along those lines.
Well. That's sad. What will they do if they learn about my 'evil blessing?' Better not find out. Miss Cera will help me out anyway.
But when Vern focused back to reply, the swordsman's eyes were closed, and his body seemed tense.
"Mister, I don't think—" the man waved his arm, interrupting Vern.
.
.
.
Then in a while, he spoke rapidly, "I must leave now, my friend—for evil is rearing its head once again! But know that Vigil of the Duskfall is embracing new blessed in its fold. Show this to anyone at the station and tell them I gave it to you. They won't ignore you like some mundane."
Dropping a silver badge that resembled an eye in Vern's hands, he pulled his crumpled hat down, nodded, and turned around, "May the clarity guide your path, my friend."
Vern stood there dumbfounded with his hand outstretched as the man exited the crowd with uncanny grace, somehow not coming in contact with anyone in the process.
That was…so random. He didn't even tell me his name. He came out of nowhere, and then disappeared just as arbitrarily. Where was this station he talked about? What Vigil of Duskfall?
Vern frowned as shouts of the crowd started registering in his mind again. He looked up at the massive font carved atop the grand building, which read like the name of some bank, and pondered more about this whole situation. It was one thing after another.
Was this swordsman going to be a problem?
.
.
.
Hopefully not. The man seemed friendly, understanding, and…inviting. But what if they really found out about his burden? How was he going to explain that to anyone? One Hensen was already enough. Another group of people chasing him with pitchforks and swords, to banish him like some evil's spawn didn't sound very enticing.
Hmm, I should be able to make a more informed decision after I read more of that Observation Record in Ari's hands. He pulled out the map and quickly charted a route to Ariane's room.
He would find some time to visit Ascendant Council and this Vigil of Duskfall later. Ari came first.
Done with the route, he assessed his surroundings. It looked like some kind of protest.
"—es Tell us! Give me back my money!"
"Where is my money!!!!"
"I can't feed my child. Please!"
"All my savings—"
Similar yells echoed all around him as they tried to force their way into the building. Seems like something has gone wrong with the money flow in the city. In all honesty, it was a miracle that people could use the currency at all. Past wide-scale fatalities didn't just lead to the collapse of a fiat currency—they ended up bringing down the whole societal structure. This was far better than the worst possible outcome.
Not having anything to do with this protest, he pocketed the badge and weaved through the crowd, exiting it from some other direction than the one he had entered from.
As he navigated the streets, he noticed that the walkways in here were…crammed. Not with people, mind you. There were a few of those here and there, moving around despondently, but the real noteworthy addition was all the tombstones that were arrayed helter-skelter, close to the inner rim of the walkways.
A group of men were actually working on it wholesale. Few embedded more tombstones, some dug up new holes, while the rest carved names on them. I see. They are entombing people right where they disappeared. That sounded…fitting. That man outside Hotel Inkwell might've left the inner district just to pay respect to the ones he lost.
Vern didn't know what to feel about this. So in this sorrowful atmosphere, he walked all the way to the Athenaeum district. This time, the bridge was in use by civilians, and no reaper stood guard to behead any trespassers.
The lack of bustle alongside those hundreds of tombstones hit him harder when he compared this scenery to his last memories of that carriage ride. Quite a number of buildings were in disrepair, their residents nowhere to be seen. Entrances to all the institutions, which used to be bustling with scholars, were devoid of any of that activity.
It was like the civilization had lost its brightness. Just what he expected, but it hit harder than he would've hoped. Was this going to be the new reality? Lifeless institutions, empty houses, unmanned shops, everything just a husk of their former selves?
His brooding continued until he finally stopped outside an ordinary-looking residence on Hartley St. This was Ari's dormitory. He had never been here in person, but all the letters were relayed under this address.
He was doing well in his life for the past few years due to all the royalties, but since earlier this year, he'd been getting a lot more side projects because of his newly-earned reputation as a Savant. However, even with all this, he was far from being rich, and his master had finally started taking a bigger cut out of all his earnings—a cut he fully deserved.
With all this income, he'd been able to pay for Ari's tuition just fine, but she insisted on earning her daily expenses alongside the rent for the dormitory. That grubby Ari back in the library was nothing more than a façade.
This gave him an idea and a mischievous smile played on his lips. Quietly laughing to himself, he entered the building.
Dim sunlight illuminated the insides, and each side of the thin hall had a few doors with numbered wooden plaques next to them. Making his way to the stairs at the back, he ascended them to the only other floor, ambling over to room 202. He fixed his clothes which were a little out of sorts due to all the walking and running, and,
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
After wrapping thrice, he spoke in an artificially high-pitched voice. "Water meter check! Payment is due, please."
Stepping aside, he hid from the view of the peephole. Hehe. Can't miss this reaction for the life of me.
.
.
.
Seconds passed by, but there was no response.
Is she not home?
Vern frowned and knocked again, shouting louder, "Water meter!"
.
.
.
Nothing.
He scowled harder and knocked repeatedly. Not in the mood for jokes anymore, he yelled, "Ari. It's Vern. Open the door."
"Ariane!"
Finally, out of patience, he turned the knob out of frustration.
Clack
Surprisingly, it opened right up, the lock not performing its intended job. What!? Vern's train of thought derailed, as many unwieldly scenarios ran through his mind. Pulling out the revolver from his coat, he readied himself and pushed open the door.
A dark room with its curtains drawn greeted him as he cautiously walked in, surveying all the corners. It wasn't too big, and everything was visible in a single glance. A table had an astrolabe sitting atop it, along with a miniature planetary orrery, tens of books which were stacked haphazardly and crumpled papers.
Next to the window stood a telescope, its viewing mirror primed for stargazing. Then there was a beauty mirror hung on the wall beside a closet which had its doors ajar. Finally, there was the bed, a plethora of papers littered all over it.
But where is Ari?
Heading over to the table, he assessed the star-shaped lamp for a second before he found its string. As he yanked it, the room lit up in a blue glow, and he surveyed it again for things he'd missed.
Checking under the table and finding nothing but dust, he put the revolver back and sat down on the bed. Furrowing his brows, he looked at all the papers in puzzlement. There was nothing wrong with the room. It was just like she had gone out and had yet to be back. But then, why would she leave the door open?
He wouldn't put it past her that she just forgot to lock it in haste, and that would deserve a scolding. But something didn't feel right.
However, he kept his paranoia in check and waited, reading the notes splayed on the bed. She might be back soon.
A top hat rested on the table next to the coat which hung around the chair as Vern paced around the room, glowering at the telescope.
Why is she always making me worry.
Where was she? This didn't feel right. Why was she not back yet? But then, there could be a million reasons. She might have gone to some friends' place, or maybe she was out figuring more about Observation. Or just out to buy something or…
Nothing in the room hinted at anything. The notes were mostly just a bunch of jargon about stars and constellations, and all the books were more of the same.
He shook his head. Might as well ask around. Surely someone else in all these rooms must have an idea, right? This was a dormitory, after all. They might all just be her friends.
So he strode out of the empty room and stopped in front of the room next door—201. Not feeling any shame at disturbing people out of the blue, he knocked.
.
.
.
No one replied. Repeating his earlier actions, he wrapped again, only to be met with silence. So he moved on over to 203.
Knock knock knock
Footsteps echoed, followed by a woman's voice from within, "Can't anyone let me get some rest? Get the fuck away from my room!"
Vern didn't react and simply asked, "Mam, would you happen to know the whereabouts of your neighbor in 202?"
"Yeah, I don't care about pretty bitches. Go away! This is the last warning."
Vern closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and simply moved on. This person wouldn't have told him much anyway.
.
.
.
After another four fruitless attempts, he circled around and reached the door in front of Ari's room, and surprisingly, someone actually came out. It was a girl with naturally curly brown hair and soft eyes, dressed modestly. Before Vern could say something himself, she cried out in amazement, "Could you be…Ariane's brother? That Savant?"
