Astral Threads, Ch 15: Bloodline Clan Envoy (Patreon)

When Sam arrived at the gates of Garild’s mansion, he saw that the damage from his battle with the Bloodline Clan descendants had been mostly repaired. The stones had been replaced in the walls of the library and there were only a few decorations missing from the niches where they had once been placed.

Despite that, something about the building felt strange. A moment later, his attention fixed onto what had once been a grassy lawn on the far side of the mansion. It was several hundred feet across, which made it more of a small park than a lawn. Highfold was a sprawling city that had many elements of nature woven into it, but a private park of this size was rare and a sign of the mansion’s prestige.

Right now, however, the area was studded with craters, scorch marks from either flames or lightning, and more than half of the grass and trees had been obliterated. Traces of mana were radiating from some of the marks, showing they’d been created only a few hours before. The damage was extensive, but it was strangely confined within the limits of the park. If it had been a true battle, Garild’s mansion would not have been spared.

Sam rubbed his chin as he scanned the area, including inside the mansion where he could sense a handful of figures. He recognized Garild and one other, but there were a few more he didn’t know. One of them was the careful blank of a ward, but he could sense a dangerous aura from it that felt somewhat similar to Eranis’s. Whatever enchantment he was using to conceal himself didn’t hide the signature energy of the Bloodline Clans. That had to be the envoy. As for the others, it looked like the governor had guests over to entertain him.

He disappeared again, teleporting inside the room. Garild had wards on his home, but they didn’t obstruct him much. It was like walking around a boulder to get to his destination. When he reappeared, he was standing inside the room near the door, which was still closed.

“Garild,” he rumbled as he looked across the area and chuckled. The sound rolled out from him in a wave of distant heat that he didn’t think about much anymore except when he was around new people. “You sent a lot of messages. Why are you so panicked?” Then he turned to the other figure he recognized.

Human. Bishop of Law-Faithful Guard. Level 192.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, bishop,” he added with some surprise as he studied the man.

The bishop had wanted to duel him for a while, but they’d never gotten around to it. The brawny man had gained a level since they last met, but he was still in his white robe and his beard was as prominent as ever and he had the same silver bracers on his arms, although they were more scratched.

“It is good to see you, brother Hunter,” the bishop chuckled as he crossed his right hand in front of his chest and gave Sam a bow. His expression was tense, but he spoke calmly. “I fear the governor’s guest has been most impatiently waiting for your arrival. These friends and I have been doing what we can to distract him.”

There were two other figures in the room that Sam didn’t recognize. One was dressed in a light green robe with Wind runes woven into the seams and the other was wearing chain mail with a sword on his back. The bright aura of enchantments radiated from his equipment as Sam analyzed both of them.

Human. Acid Mage-Wind Enchanter. Level 172.

Human. Steel Swordsman-Agile Brawler. Level 165.

They were probably the heads of the Wizard’s Guild and the Adventurer’s Guild here. He’d heard a few things about them before from Garild, since they were the next most powerful individuals in the city after the governor and the bishop, but this was the first time he’d seen them.

He gave them a nod, but only the swordsman returned it. The mage’s attention was fixed on the last person in the room. All four of the locals were sitting in a semicircle with a clear view of the Bloodline Clan envoy, who was reclining leisurely in a chair to the right. Their postures were guarded and their hands close to their weapons, but they weren’t touching them. Something was clearly going on.

“Horned Hunter!” Garild leapt up from his seat as he noticed Sam. An expression of relief washed over his face, which was covered in bruises. It wasn't visible until he turned toward the door, but his features were a mottled expanse of black and blue. There were even some older ones that were turning yellow. “You’re here! Finally! I don’t know if I could take any more delay!”

Sam frowned as he glanced between Garild and the others. Crystal flame rippled beneath his skin in case he needed to make a quick exit.

“Garild thinks he is a merchant, but he’s actually just fat,” the envoy drawled lazily from the other side with a soft chuckle as he rose. The movement drew instant attention to him from everyone in the room. His voice was a whisper of silk flowing over scales, barely present but somehow unmistakable. “I expected better from someone who stayed with the clans as a boy, so I’ve been endeavoring to teach him how to use his class while we waited. It’s been educational for him.”

“Uncle...” Garild started to protest, but the man glanced at him and he started coughing fiercely, holding his chest as a look of pain passed across his face. Whatever he’d been about to say was cut short as he gave Sam a pleading look.

The envoy moved with a boneless grace as he turned toward the door and gave Sam a clear look at his features. His appearance was similar to Eranis’, with skin that was as pale white as a ghost, but he was the finished version of what Eranis had been trying to copy. Where Eranis had a dark rune on the back of each hand and white clothing with black accents, the envoy had curving black lines that cut across all of his exposed skin like the stripes on an adder’s scales.

His clothes were also white, but they were trimmed in a striking silver and ebony that stood out against his skin, and the aura of powerful enchantments radiated from them. His most striking feature was pure white eyes that were bisected from top to bottom by a black streak from his forehead down to his cheeks, which were much more vivid than the thin lines that Eranis had.

With every movement, parts of his body faded out to transparency, as if he were only partially there, and a wind as chill as a graveyard dropped the temperature in the area. His presence was as heavy as a saber waiting to fall. He exuded danger and Sam instantly tried to analyze him.

Pale Spirit. Spectral Assassin-Knight of the Pale. Level 305.

If he hadn’t just upgraded his Analyze, it probably wouldn’t have worked, but the new Epic tier was enough. His eyes widened as he took a quick stock of his abilities and prepared to fight. Then he tossed that idea out the window and prepared to teleport. The only thing that held him back was that the man wasn’t moving, but his presence was like a knife against Sam’s skin.

He had no interest in fighting a Level 305 elder from the Bloodline Clans. He’d expected that a Level 200 might show up, but not this. No wonder Eranis had said he wasn’t qualified to be an assassin!

The information from the relic had gone a long way to filling in his basic understanding of classes and levels, and he knew just how much the man outranked him.

The average attributes for an Initial Class were two per level, plus two per General Level, which never changed. At the First Evolution, that jumped to a range of four to ten per level for the class. The Second Evolution was where the difference in rarity became even more serious, with a range of 12 to 50 attributes per level.

The Third Evolution had an even higher bonus, but he hadn’t finished reading about it. All he could say was that things got strange the higher you went.

An easy way to calculate attributes was to add them up, which gave you a maximum for any particular area, like Strength. At Level 100, someone could have about 400 gained attributes. At Level 200, it was 1,000-1,600. At Level 300, it was 2,400-6,800, depending on the rarity of your class.

As for this Bloodline Clan assassin, he doubted the class was Common. Over all those levels, rarity had time to really play out and you would start to see an enormous difference between the strength of individuals. Usually, about 70-80% would be in Strength and Constitution for a melee fighter, or in Intelligence and Wisdom for a mage.

Sam had 1,303 combined attributes at Level 112, with another 62 from items. Combined with his spells and affinities, it made him about as strong as a Level 200 rare class in terms of raw power. It wasn’t the most useful estimate, since attributes varied widely and someone could have a terrible Constitution, but it was a quick one.

At Level 305, the envoy would have two to five times his raw attributes, not to mention the abilities and increased mana density that came with the higher evolutions. He probably had most of his power split across two or three attributes, which could mean he had an Agility at 1,500 and a Strength and Constitution at 700...or higher.

Sam had an Agility of 83 with his equipment. His Constitution was 197. A single punch from the envoy would leave nothing but a rain of blood behind. It was no wonder the room felt strained. It also drove home that even with his advantages, the world was a very big place.

Plans flickered through his mind as he analyzed and discarded them one after the other. He’d have to hope that the Ice Sylphs’ wards on the valley could come to his rescue if needed or that he could teleport away.

“Interesting.” The envoy’s voice broke Sam’s analysis like an enchanted dagger through silk. It was soundless but drawn out, and the effect left him scrambling for the pieces of what he’d been thinking. The word was followed by a sudden grin as the black slits of the man’s eyes widened and then narrowed again with a completely inhuman appearance like a serpent’s hood flaring.

The pressure of his aura deepened like the coils of a python curling tighter and then relaxed, settling back to what it had been before as he turned his full attention to Sam.

“I can’t see your level or class...nor your race, and that has not happened to me in a long time. It seems the World Core has forbidden it. From Garild’s wild tales about you, I was expecting someone older, but your blood sings of youth. I can feel that you’re stronger than Garild, but you seem to be about the same age as my nephew that you defeated.” The envoy folded his fingers together as he studied him. Then he grinned, his posture changing.

It felt like a cool breeze lifted the tension from the room. Garild let out a sigh of relief and even the bishop looked calmer. It was the effect of the envoy’s Charisma or perhaps a skill, and not even Sam was immune. Suddenly, the envoy seemed more interesting than dangerous.

Sam gave himself a mental shake as he refocused and studied the envoy. He wasn’t going to change his mind so easily. Whatever else, even if he was in a good mood, this man was supremely dangerous. He could feel the envoy’s curiosity like a blanket hiding a serpents' fangs. Before he could say anything, the envoy continued.

“I confess to being disappointed. I was planning to have a good duel with you, but I can’t go around fighting clan guests the same age as my nephew. That wouldn't respect the gesture the young brat made when she gave you the plaque, which even I am bound to uphold.

“Unless, perhaps you are just young for your race? If you’re actually as old as me, I could make an exception.” There was a vein of hopefulness there as the envoy waited for the answer, and Sam remembered what Garild had said about the Bloodline Clans all being maniacs.

“I am not very old at all, actually,” Sam said quietly as he took the opportunity to defuse the situation. He’d never planned to tell Garild his real age, but it had just become a useful way out. “Eranis might be older than me. I haven’t even turned 19 in Aster Fall’s years.”

“What?!” Garild’s interruption sprang out with a cry of disbelief as he stared at Sam. “You’re that young? But how are you so strong?!”

“I came here to train and to grow,” Sam replied with a half shrug as he raised one palm into the air. “What does it matter how many years it has been?” The information might hurt his relationship with Garild, but he didn’t plan to duel the envoy. Garild would have to adjust.

“So, a very talented young...Horned Hunter of the Moons, is it?” The envoy’s voice was curious. He seemed to be pleased with himself as he glanced at Garild and the others. “I can see that much. How intriguing. It’s rare to find someone so blessed by the World Core, or at least so protected. It makes me glad that I’ve come. I wonder what you will be when you've had a few more years to grow.” He stretched languidly, his back curving as if his spine didn’t exist, and then he steepled his palms together in front of him as his gaze settled on Garild and the other three.

“I had these helpers rounded up to give Garild a good training experience while I was waiting for you, and they’ve done well enough so far.” He shifted his attention to Sam, his fingers still pressed together. The black line over his eyes flared with eagerness. “Since you’re so young, though, how do you feel about some training of your own? Life in Aster Fall hangs by a thread, and without pushing ourselves, we’ll never break free from the bonds that hold us here.”

“Please, anything to distract him from me,” Garild pleaded as he looked between the envoy and Sam. The mood had shifted and his words were more relaxed than before. “He was just about to drag us all outside again. I haven’t fought like this since I was 19. Why do you think I stopped visiting the clans?! I didn’t want to spend all of my time with these madmen.”

“Silence, student,” the envoy hissed with amusement. “Each complaint means you will get more personal attention. After all this time, you still haven’t learned to work hard?” He was clearly pleased with himself. His attention shifted to Sam as he continued.

“Garild tells me you want information on some strange artifacts,” he said as the black bands over his eyes flared again. “I might have something for you, but I won’t give it up without a fight. The little brats said you were a true warrior, which was why I came here. If you can prove that, I’ll help you.”

“Take him up on his offer,” Garild agreed as he looked at Sam. His eyes were nearly hidden by the black rings around them, making him look like a raccoon, but his voice was earnest. “The Pale Family loves their deals and they don’t like giving things away for free. This is the best offer he could have made you. Those three must have sung your praises when they went home. I just hope you’re ready for it.”

Sam looked at Garild and then at the envoy. His blood was still surging from the threat the man presented.

“Agreed,” he said as he considered the idea. He wasn’t sure what it would take to convince the envoy to give him the information, but if it was just fighting, he was up for it. “But only for a day or two. I have obligations to the relic.”

“In that case, you can call me Uncle Snake,” the envoy said as a cold wind shivered through the room. It felt like an ancient predator had just turned its gaze on them. “All of my trainees do.”

He didn’t mention the time limit as his attention shifted to the other three in the room who hadn't spoken much, perhaps because they were intimidated.

“That one keeps talking about fighting you,” Uncle Snake said as he looked at the bishop, “so why don’t we see what these fellows can do as a warm up? After that, we'll see what you can do against me.”

Sam glanced at Garild and the other three in the room, who were giving him a considering look as they took in his height and his reputation in the city. The swordsman cracked his knuckles as he stood up and bowed to the envoy, but none of them said anything.

These people were the best that Highfold had to offer and the pressure of enchantments and their innate abilities filled the space around them. It was nothing compared to the envoy's aura, but it still placed them in the top rank of opponents Sam had ever faced.

No fight with them would be easy, but it would be a good test of his new skills from the relic. One to one, it shouldn't be too much trouble.

“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked as he frowned at them and then turned back to the envoy. A feeling of unease rippled down his back. Even bound by his sense of honor, there was something unsettling about the man, like a serpent’s fang that was looming above Sam’s head.

“All four at once should be a good warm up.” Uncle Snake’s grin was wider than it should have been as he ignored Garild’s immediate protest. His attention was fixed on Sam. “Now follow me.”