Ch082-Brewing Storm (Patreon)

(Author's Note: To keep it short, enough not great things happened during this week that it was almost funny. It was like the start of a movie, the main character falls out of bed, steps into dogshit, nearly gets hit by a car, his briefcase breaks open, he gets mugged, and then XYZ comes into his life and makes things better. Not that any of this happened to me, but it felt like the world was out to get me this week.

Anyway, that was the reason for the delay, I'm genuinely sorry about it, but writing isn't the kind of thing that you can do while you're pissed off. Evertyhing is more or less sorted now, I'm going to try to get more chapters out faster to make up for the delay.

Hope you like the chapter!

TLDR: Bad week, couldn't write, things are better now.)

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Ch082-Brewing Storm

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“Ah, well there goes my drinking money for the week,” the guard said as Sylver closed the gates behind him and turned around. Only a single silver armored guard was standing nearby, holding a small key along with a matching scroll in his hand.

“Where’s Sophia?” Sylver asked. Going by the suns’ current positions he’d been inside the house for roughly 2 hours.

“She left. She made a bet with Tops and Leto that you would be back in under half an hour, and lost. Then she bet the rest of us that you would come back eventually, and given that you’re alive and well and standing here, won,” the silver armored guard explained.

After walking around in constant darkness, surrounded by one screaming and begging horror or another, the guard’s relaxed tone was hard to adjust to. Sylver’s ears were still ringing from the sound fake Sophia made as she was being disemboweled with a blunt bread knife.

“I didn’t think priests were allowed to gamble?” Sylver asked. The guard stood up a little straighter, his hand casually fell onto the pommel of his sword.

“The rules regarding what we can and can’t do are… I’m struggling to remember the right word, it’s… uh… Oh! Up to interpretation, that’s it. Not laws, mind you, those are ironclad, but the smaller rules, gambling, drinking, whoring, those are significantly less… clad,” The guard said, adding the last word after a long enough pause that Sylver could tell he couldn’t remember the opposite of ironclad.

“Are all priests like that, or just followers of Ra?” Sylver asked.

“That’s a hard question to answer. I’d like to answer, yes, but that we’re the only ones honest about it. But the other temples have been keeping everything a secret to outsiders for so long, there’s no real way to know. I know for a fact that a large number of brothels refuse to allow priests of Zeus to enter, even when they are off duty. Then there’s the rumors of the women inside said brothels ‘disappearing’, anyway, are the phantoms dead?” The guard said. He held up the key and scroll and gestured with his helmeted head towards the house.

“Oh, no, I’m going to return tomorrow morning, I just wanted to give them some time to think things over,” Sylver explained.

“Think what over? So you’re going to kill them tomorrow?” the guard asked. He adjusted the strap under his chin to get the helmet’s eyeholes back into the proper place.

“I’m not going to kill them. We’re in the middle of negotiating, and I’m giving them time to discuss and decide on what they want,” Sylver repeated. The guard was so still; he might as well have been frozen.

“You… You spoke to them? To phantoms?” the guard asked, with the kind of tone that was normally followed by the other person laughing.

“I’m a necromancer, I speak to the dead daily. Not everything has to be solved with a dagger or a fireball, sometimes words are enough,” Sylver explained.

The guard cocked his head. He spoke after a long silence, long enough that Sylver had very nearly started to walk away.

“What did they say?” the guard asked. It sounded like he was playing along to a ridiculous lie of a child. Thank you for the plastic teacup full of delicious invisible tea and all that.

“That’s between them and me,” Sylver said. The guard’s body language suggested a smirk.

“Sure,” the silver-clad guard said. Sylver didn’t like the condescending tone in his voice, but was a bit too tired to care, and didn’t value the soon to be forgotten man’s opinion highly enough to attempt to correct it.

“Do I need to go to the temple again tomorrow, or will you be here or…” Sylver asked.

“I was told to wait here until you returned, I’ll need to ask. So either come around to the temple tomorrow if there’s nobody here, or someone will be here,” the guard answered.

Sylver turned into smoke and began to travel through the rain gutters as the guard started locking the gate and reapplying the barrier.

*

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*

The two of them sat on top of the roof and watched the unkempt field below sway in the wind. Bright green grass filled in the blanks left by the giant yellow-colored weeds, as the shades slowly but surely moved in a single line through them.

“The brothel? He ended up not going. In his words “it was love at first sight”,” Bruno quoted as he took another sip of tea.

“Might be a hormonal imbalance, I’ll need to check to make sure,” Sylver suggested.

“Might be. It is a bit too convenient that he fell in love with the woman who will be training him but I’m looking after him, don’t worry about it,” Bruno said, as he waved the issue away.

“After spending so many years at each other’s throats, I would have thought there would be some… I don’t know, bad blood I guess?” Sylver asked. Bruno took another sip of tea while he considered how to word his answer properly.

“When we are born, we start from scratch essentially. The memories of our past come in slowly, gradually, in pieces and fragments. Or they come in so fast and hard that the person we were at that moment in time ceases to exist. All that’s left are emotional attachments. I remembered who I was quite literally as I was watching my wife being murdered once. I don’t even know her name, I just had this unbelievable pain inside of me,” Bruno explained.

He spoke without so much as a shake in his voice. Sylver had to imagine after everything he’d been through, becoming numb to it was a very strong possibility. It had happened to Sylver for a while too, but he always had his people to help him overcome whatever he’d been trying to bottle up.

Bruno was different in that he was alone. His only companion, if he could be called that, was the man who was very often in the process of ruining his life and killing him.

“The worst part is that I don’t even know when it’s over. Among my jumble of memories, there must be some sort of specific mixture that defines who I am. But then I have to ask, what if there’s more? What if the person I am now, or the person I think I am now, is incomplete?” Bruno asked, still without any real emotion in the question.

“How’s the cheese farming coming along?” Sylver asked just as casually.

“What?”

“I saw cows grazing in the field, and Spring tells me you have goats hiding inside that barn over there,” Sylver explained, as he pointed at the recently constructed barn in question.

“It’s a while away. Because the military bought up all the good stock, the only cows left for sale are barely worth the meat on them. Aside from that, there’s a whole lot more to making cheese than just putting milk in a barrel and waiting. Proper temperatures are required, some sort of bacteria found inside a cow’s stomach, and a bunch of other small but critical details that we are yet to meet. And given that I don’t know what the process looks like, I can’t speed it along with my magic,” Bruno answered, with a wave of his hand as he counted out problem after problem.

“And the bees?” Sylver asked.

“On their way. As are the tools I requested. Someone will be sent over here at some point to check if I’m proficient enough in using them before giving them to me,” Bruno explained while Sylver coughed on his tea from laughing at him.

“On that note, how’s your body? Your core and channels seem fine, but they’re…” Sylver tried to find a polite way of saying “shit”.

“It’s enough. The conductivity isn’t that bad, all things considered. Class-wise, my unique has already cannibalized and transformed my farmer class so my magic is a bit more specialized than I would have preferred. But as I said, it’s enough, I’ve done more with less, so it isn’t a problem. I stopped vomiting blood last night, so there’s that too,” Bruno said.

“What about Faust?” Sylver asked.

“Also fine. The nails on his toes fell off at some point, but new ones grew in before the day ended,” Bruno explained.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that could happen… Did he get his eyes checked out?” Sylver asked.

“There isn’t a healer that specializes in eyes, but he said he’ll fix it himself eventually. He’s wearing glasses in the meantime. And don’t tell him I told you this, but I’m all but certain he could fix his eyes today if he really wanted to. My best guess is that the girl he’s fallen for likes glasses or wears glasses, that’s the feeling I’m getting anyway,” Bruno said, with a slightly hushed tone.

“Is it strange that I envy him?” Sylver asked.

“I envy him too, a little. But I’ve been where you are, the desire to stick your head in the sand and just pretend everything is alright is always very tempting. Both of us are essentially doing just that right now. But it isn’t like the one person that can solve all your problems will just wander into your house and offer you the best deal you’ve ever gotten, ever,” Bruno said with a grin.

“It would be nice though. Go here, do this, and everyone is somehow miraculously alive and well,” Sylver said with a small chuckle.

“You never know. That we met is pure luck, maybe you’ll get lucky like that as well,” Bruno offered.

“If nothing else, I respect that he’s willing to get attached again, even while knowing full well how much it’s going to hurt when she dies, or he dies,” Sylver said with a slight slouch of his shoulders.

“Maybe he just trusts you that much? He knows more about you than I do, maybe in his mind, it’s a done deal, just a matter of time before the curse is broken. Why sit around wasting time if this is already the start of his new life?” Bruno offered.

“We’re still a while off from doing anything substantial, materials aside, I’m still within smiting range if I try to do something too direct. Once I can at the very least fight off an improbable lightning bolt or two, then I can start pocking the connection to see what gets a reaction. Until then, just enjoy the simple life of a farmer,” Sylver offered.

Bruno sat up suddenly and patted the many pockets on his apron. As he teleported away, Sylver refilled his teacup and sat in silence for a while. Spring and the others were halfway done by now, the weeds had been carefully collected and tied together to be mixed into the cow’s food later on, and the dirt had been plowed for grass in one area, and crops in another.

With each shade splitting up, Sylver had nearly 300 working the field at the same time. The ground was moist here, courtesy of the heavy rain that had flooded the field a few days ago, so very little strength was needed to pull the weeds. With Sylver using [Shadow’s Agent] he could even empower the shades that needed just a little help to speed things up.

It was surprisingly not that costly to make up for the 60% decrease in ability using mana. If Sylver had all the shades split up to the maximum number, around 500, counting the wolves, he could make them all as strong as their original bodies were for about 30 seconds. If they were closer to him, the time would increase, but Sylver didn’t think he could handle more than 4 minutes.

Bruno reappeared with a leather-bound notebook and placed it into Sylver’s lap.

“I hate how often this comes up, but the spell I used to make the shade and zombie combination creatures, is more muscle memory than actual understanding. I’ve written down all the frameworks that I can remember, but I don’t have the mana to check if I’m right or not,” Bruno explained, as Sylver flipped the book open and looked through the pages.

“It’s… This is enough, I’ll fill in the gaps myself. At least you didn’t write it out on a vase,” Sylver slowly said, as he memorized one page after the other and eventually put the notebook away. Some experimentation and fiddling would be needed, but it wasn’t too complicated.

“Vase?”

“There was this one group… It’s hard to explain, their writing system was linked to the circumference of the thing the text was written on, and I wasted far too long trying to decipher it. It wasn’t even worth it; their magic was so inefficient that their 5th tier mages could just barely cast 2nd tier magic. Thank you, I meant to say. I mean this in the best way possible, but I’m used to getting incomplete information, it’s almost better this way,” Sylver said.

He stood up from his chair as Spring started to gather up some of the shades and split himself into two so one could watch over the ones doing the weeding, while the other was with Sylver.

“You’re not going to stay for lunch? Meet the family, so to speak?” Bruno asked.

“I would rather not. I don’t want to mar their perception of you by my association. Maybe later, when they’re all comfortable with you and trust your word when you tell them I’m not some deranged lunatic,” Sylver explained.

“Ah. Right, the jaw thing. On the bright side, there are as many people saying he deserved it, as there are saying you went too far. But you have a point, they’re wary of me as is, and that’s without even mentioning the experiments I’m going to have to do to figure out how to cross an insect with a mammal. Thankfully the kids are young enough that they won’t see it as a problem if they grow up with it, and the older ones… what’s the right word to describe it?” Bruno asked as he sat back down into his chair.

“Tolerate it?” Sylver suggested.

“Sure, that’s works. They’re getting paid more per month than some people make in a year, and all that’s being asked of them is helping a half-elf learn how to make cheese, and helping out with the hybrids I’ll soon be making. They’ve been bribed, if we’re being honest,” Bruno said.

“It’s not ideal, but considering the circumstances, it will have to do. I’ll come by when I have the time, but if you need something talk to Lola, she’ll handle it,” Sylver said. He stretched his legs as he walked towards the edge of the roof and looked down.

Sylver stopped before fully jumping off as he felt something strange in Bruno’s soul.

“What?” Sylver turned around and asked.

“Do you remember how I said that I could smell something on you? Like a god, but not a god?” Bruno asked.

“I do…” Sylver answered.

“The smell changed. It’s not weaker or stronger, but something is different. I can’t explain it properly, it’s like trying to explain how mana feels to someone who can’t sense it,” Bruno added quickly.

Sylver stood quietly for a while before he shrugged his shoulders and jumped off the roof. He turned into smoke a moment before he hit the ground and disappeared into the rain gutters.

*

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Surprisingly, Ron was happy Sylver was leaving. Or more accurately, he was happy Sylver was happy, even if he enjoyed the pale man’s company. It was after Sylver had packed up his belonging did he realize how little he had.

Most of his clothing was spread out amongst the shades, covered up by armor, and assimilated into them. Weapons, tools, and other small items were similarly hidden with the shades, either in backpacks, or satchels. Given the way their bodies worked, no one could open the bags, the effect would be the same as trying to rip their heads off, they would just burst into a cloud of smoke.

As a result, Sylver’s room was barren, a bed, a table and chair, bathroom, and that was about it. In place of a window was a wall that had a chest full of gold inside of it, that Sylver hadn’t touched a whole lot after getting money from Poppy. The majority remained at the adventurer’s guild, and whenever Sylver needed a large sum, it was usually just transferred via Lola or Shera.

Sylver looked through the small booklet inside of the chest and was surprised to see that Salgok had almost repaid the entirety of what he owed. Ron had closed Sylver’s food tab a couple of times, and Sylver had taken out 10 gold coins now and then.

If Sylver’s math was right, the chest held 22,541 gold, 11 silver, and 8 copper. With another 100,000 something gold in his account at the adventurer’s guild.

There was a limit to how much Sylver could rely on the Cord and the cats, and he didn’t want to become completely dependent on them. Lola was in a tough spot at the moment, but she and her company were key to stop considering money as an issue.

“Why do you think the smell changed?” Spring asked. Sylver looked up from packing up small vials of various bone ashes. Ron had left to handle something and Sylver was dismantling his workshop.

“I don’t know. I’m still on the fence regarding if a god is involved with me being here. It’s possible, plausible even, but at the same time, the question remains the same. Why?” Sylver said as he went back to carefully wrapping the vials up one at a time and gently tucking them away into their respective cases.

“You think that if someone went through all the trouble of bringing you back, they would at least tell you to do something?” Spring asked. He directed the shades to put the boxes into a pile and swapped out Sylver’s now full box with an empty one.

“First you would need to find my soul and piece it back together. Simple enough, assuming you have an absurd amount of mana and time, I’m flexible enough that you would only need a small piece for my consciousness to form. Then you would need to repair the damage I had done to it, difficult, but hypothetically possible. Then you would need to move my soul across the Asberg, something people I held in high regard couldn’t manage, and without me knowing about it no less,” Sylver counted out, as he carried on packing away vial after vial.

“Sounds like something a god would do,” Spring offered.

“Sure, but then you would need to find a perfect vessel for me, a feat impossible unless you go around checking people one by one. The amount of luck required is mind-boggling. Putting that aside, you then have the other big question, why a needle of all things? And how is magic so intricate and so small that I can’t even sense it possible? And then the thing I’m not going to say or think about. Is it related to me, or am I the result of it?” Sylver continued, as he stood up from his crouch and got to work dismantling his alchemical grinder. After passing out on Will, Sylver had become slightly more careful about thinking, let alone mentioning, the thing.

“You think the thing we’re not talking about somehow is the reason you’re here?” Spring asked.

“If you see two giant fires in different places, it isn’t exactly wrong to assume they’re somehow connected. But then the timing is off, it didn’t start when I appeared, it had been going on forever according to Faust and Bruno at least. But then, why can Lola and I remember when it didn’t exist? Is Lola connected to me, or am I connected to Lola,” Sylver said.

“Could just be one giant coincidence. Or a series of coincidences. Maybe that’s why you’re so weak and leveling up so slowly, you have a giant debt of improbability to pay off,” Spring offered. Sylver laughed sarcastically before he gently removed the grindstones from the alchemical grinder.

“Could be whoever put me there, forgot about me. Repairing soul damage is a slow process, it’s like trying to speed up healing, there’s a limit to how quickly it can be done. And let’s not forget that the only way to cram my soul into something this small would involve, not just bypassing the Gellmann constant, but about 8 more laws of magic that I can’t even begin to describe to you,” Sylver said, his tone gradually became angry as he listed of how impossible it was for him to be standing here right now.

“There is one easy explanation,” Spring said.

Sylver huffed to himself.

“Easy might be the wrong word, but it explains everything,” Spring continued.

“I don’t like saying that something is or isn’t possible, because I’ve been proven wrong far too many times. But a different world? Moving between realms is one thing, I’ve been to the demon realm and earth, but this would be moving between realities. Different laws of magic, but somehow I’m still able to use the magic I’m familiar with. It’s the difference between visiting a neighbor’s house, and traveling across the world to a different continent and city,” Sylver explained.

“So it’s just a matter of time and energy?” Spring asked.

“Everything is a matter of time and energy, given enough of either of them you could do absolutely anything. What I’m saying is that no one would spend so much on me without good reason. But then that brings up a better question, if they have enough energy to bring me back, what do they need me for? That I know something important? If they can move between realities, what’s moving between time to find the person I stole what I know from? Why me specifically?” Sylver asked.

Spring didn’t have an answer for that.

*

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“I take it the tournament is still taking up all of the priests capable of opening a lock using a key?” Sylver asked, as Sophia hurriedly put her bracelets back on to stop Sylver’s skin from blistering. He came out of the rain gutters and reformed a few feet away from her.

“Why not just fly through the sky?” Sophia asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sylver tapped the bars beneath him with his foot as he spoke, “It’s faster. And I don’t like being in the open while like that, feels like being naked in a sense,” Sylver explained.

“But crawling naked through a bunch of pipes is fine?” Sophia asked with a smirk.

“Naked might have been the wrong word. Vulnerable, I guess. Unarmored,” Sylver corrected.

“I’ve never seen you wear anything other than your black robe and cloak, you’re always unarmored,” Sophia said.

“It’s a figure of speech, was there something you wanted?” Sylver asked. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting from Sophia.

“Have you thought about what I’ve said?” Sophia asked.

“You’ll need to be specific.”

“The unhealing perk you have. And what you want in exchange for it,” Sophia explained.

“Oh, that… I’m fairly certain I said I was unwilling to explain how it works, and I even went above and beyond and told you that even if I were to tell you, no one but me would be capable of doing anything about it,” Sylver explained, as he turned around to face the gates and felt Sophia walk closer.

“A person is staying with us that would be willing to pay anything you asked if you could at least alleviate the effects. Could you at least take a look at them?” Sophia whispered. She leaned in close enough, that Sylver could feel her warm breath on the tip of his ear.

“Define anything,” Sylver asked slowly.

“They are… let’s call it well connected. And if you were able to cure them, there would be very few things that they would be unwilling to give you. You’ll need to ask the specifics from them, but this could be huge for you,” Sophia said.

“I see… And I take it you’re going through so much trouble to organize this meeting out of the goodness of your heart?” Sylver asked with a faint grin that Sophia couldn’t see since his back was turned to her.

“In a sense… I would consider this a personal favor if you were to at least take a look,” Sophia said.

“How personal?” Sylver asked, a little too quickly than he had intended.

“As personal as you would like it to be,” Sophia half-whispered. She rolled her words in a way that emphasized the faint trace of her foreign accent.

Sylver quietly stared at the gate in front of him, as Sophia reached over his head and removed the lock with a single tap of her finger.

“I’ll think about it… Is there anything specific about them that makes you think their curse and the one I used on Samuel are similar?” Sylver asked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to be on the good side of the head priest of one of the largest religions on this side of the continent.

“Their hands have been crushed, and the way the remaining pieces are always filled with pus and constantly bleeding is almost identical to Samuel’s. And just like Samuel’s all the identification magic we have available wasn’t able to pin down a specific skill or perk. They were brutally beaten before the curse was applied on them, and the wounds have remained as if the beating had occurred an hour ago,” Sophia explained.

If there’s another person out there who has a similar level of mastery over dark magic, this could be a great opportunity to find them. Although, if they are smart enough to cast something like they, they’re likely smart enough to remove all traces of their magic…

But I might get lucky… Worst case scenario I’ll confirm there’s someone as good as me out there…

“Tell them to come to Ron’s rest tomorrow morning. I’ll look them over after this,” Sylver said. He tried to take a step forward, but Sophia’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“They can’t travel, and time is somewhat of the essence. It would be good if you were to see them right now,” Sophia urged, the smallest hint of panic in her voice.

“Because you want to know as soon as possible if something can be done, or because you’re worried I’ll die in there?” Sylver asked. The gate was open, all he needed to do was take another step forward and Sophia wouldn’t be able to follow him.

“Because I have plans that are heavily reliant on their help, and the sooner I know if I will have it or not, the sooner I can start working on carrying my plans out or changing them,” Sophia said.

Sylver thought it over.

“It would be impolite to the phantoms if I showed up late,” Sylver said. He interrupted Sophia before she could say anything, “but if you’re willing to throw in a second personal favor, I would be willing to leave right now to have a look at your mystery person,” Sylver said.

“Done,” Sophia said before Sylver had even finished speaking.

*

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“Staying with us” turned out to mean, “staying in the most expensive inn in Arda, while being guarded by two teams of A-rank adventurers and 2 of Sophia’s personal guards”.

As a precaution, Sylver kept his mask on as Sophia lead him towards the room, and was careful not to use his real voice at any point.

Which was a lucky thing, considering the mysterious victim placed heavy emphasis on anonymity and secrecy. Sylver wasn’t disarmed, but the guards’ relaxed attitude made it crystal clear that all his daggers and darts wouldn’t make a difference if they were to fight.

Sylver was glad for his mask because it hid the giant uncontrollable grin on his face as the elevator reached the top floor and Sylver could smell the mysterious victim in the other room. The curtains were closed tightly enough that only a single magic lamp provided any light. The room smelt of piss, shit, blood, and there was a general feeling of decay in the air.

A single guard remained inside the room, Sophia and her lot waited downstairs, while Sylver inspected the barely alive man.

He looked old, but that wasn’t the right way to describe him. Drained, if Sylver had to put a word to it. Tortured. From his missing left ear to his swollen blinded eyes, to his tightly wrapped up jaw, down to the bubbles of pus the man called hands.

Sylver silently moved his hands towards the old-looking man and had to suppress a giggle.

“I can feel you shaking child. Don’t worry, it isn’t infectious, it just appears that way,” the old man said.

Sylver had to apply magic onto his muscles to stop himself from bursting out laughing. He adjusted the magic around his mask to alter his voice and slightly over-pronounced his words to hide his accent.

“I’ve never seen anything like this sir. But I believe I can be of help, at the very least I think I’ll be able to undo some of it,” Sylver said, careful so as not to sound too confident, but not too unconfident. It was a hard line to toe.

When the man grabbed Sylver’s hands, he flinched so hard he nearly yanked the old man out of his bed. For a split second Sylver’s heart beat uncontrollably fast in his chest, but Sylver relaxed as he felt the old man’s lumps of flesh lose strength. If his soul was anything to go by, he hadn’t realized who Sylver was.

“Name your price child,” the old man said. If not for his gruff tone, it almost sounded like he was weeping as he spoke.

“I’ll need to bring my tools to make sure first sir. It would be improper if I were to get your hopes up by promising something I’m unable to deliver. I’ll return tomorrow morning; would you kindly wait until then?” Sylver offered.

Sylver could see the old man wanted to demand he treat him here and now. He could imagine him weighing the cost of threatening the only person that could help him, against spending several more hours sitting around in constant pain.

“Of course, of course… I’ll wait, I’ll wait… I’ll be here, but please come as soon as you can,” the old man said.

Sylver placed his hand onto the old man’s shoulder and ever so gently squeezed it.

“Don’t worry sir, I’ll do everything in my power,” Sylver said.

*

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*

Sylver turned into smoke and started to laugh to his heart’s content. An outside observer would have been seen yellow lightning crackling around the edges of the sputtering black smoke, but Sylver was alone and unobserved for the movement. When he calmed down slightly and reformed, he had to spend several minutes wiping tears out of his eyes.

Spring wordlessly handed Sylver a page of paper to write on and went about buying an envelope while Sylver got the attention of one of Wuss’s cats. He walked off into a secluded alleyway and waited.

Spring returned with the sealed letter a moment before two cats appeared out of nowhere and sat down onto a windowsill. Both of them had dark brown coats and blue and green eyes. Sylver looked at the one on the left, with the green eyes, as he spoke.

“I need a letter delivered to Novva, duke of Pere’s territories, and I need it done urgently,” Sylver said, as he held out the sealed up letter towards the green-eyed cat.

“How urgent?” The green cat asked. It nodded slightly with its head, and the letter disappeared from Sylver’s hand.

“How much will the fastest method you have cost?” Sylver asked.

“9,000 gold, it isn’t negotiable,” the cat said instantly.

“Done, but this needs to be in his hands before the end of the day,” Sylver continued.

The two cats looked at each other before the blue-eyed one spoke.

“It will be there in about 2 hours,” the blue-eyed cat said.

“Fantastic. Alright, good, get to it, thank you,” Sylver said. He waited until he turned the corner before he turned into smoke again and disappeared.

*

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*

“So you can heal him?” Sophia asked as Sylver struggled to keep the childlike joy out of his voice. Thankfully he could tell Sophia thought it was because Sylver had hit the metaphorical jackpot.

“What do you want from him? Specifically,” Sylver asked. Sophia’s voice lost a fraction of warmth as her face became a bit more neutral than it was a moment ago.

“It’s private,” Sophia answered.

“I’ll put it like this… There’s a good chance he will die during my attempt to heal him. I would like to know how badly you’re going to be fucked over if that happens, so I can value what I’ll try and what I won’t. Is it binary, you only get what you want if he’s fully healed, or are you getting paid for the attempt and don’t care how things end up? You said he would be grateful for partial healing, how partial?” Sylver asked.

Sophia walked in dead silence alongside him.

“Your bluntness was refreshing originally, but I’m starting to be wary of it,” Sophia said with a small grimace.

“I’m aware, but if I don’t have an answer, you don’t get to complain if something happens and you end up worse for it as a result. Look… I’m not expecting you to trust me with the internal workings of your temple and people, I’m just asking what you hope to get from this because I might be able to help,” Sylver offered.

Since the temple of Ra already knew about him, it was a matter of time before the summer solstice came along and the other temple’s spies knew about him, and the other temples knew about him, and the rest of the world eventually knew about him.

Sylver didn’t know how many people knew about Kitty and her curse but considered it unlikely the ones that mattered didn’t know.

Sylver didn’t say anything as they arrived at the Anderey residence’s gates, and Sofia opened the gates again.

“It’s complicated,” Sophia said.

“Dumb it down for me then. Money? Connections? An item? What does that old man have that you want, keep it simple,” Sylver said, as he turned around to face the uncharacteristically quiet Sophia.

Sofia looked down at the ground and rubbed her foot into it as she mulled things over.

“Listen… These kinds of situations can sometimes turn into misunderstandings and conflict. I would like to avoid all of that, by talking things out. If all you need is money, I know people. But then again, Kitty probably knows the people I know, so it must not be that. Same for political power, meaning there’s something extremely specific that that old man has,” Sylver said. He knew he hit the nail on the head when Sophia twitched at the words.

He had hoped for an answer or at least something, but she instead just silently teleported away.

*

*

*

Sylver walked around the mansion before heading inside. The build quality was impressive, rock reinforced with metal, and some sort of strange treated wood that felt as hard as rock to the touch. The corners were all rounded, almost a complete opposite of the general architecture present in Arda, and the roof’s shape made the building look like a collection of cylindrical towers, as opposed to one single building.

Sylver sent shades out through the mansion as he walked inside. There were no illusions this time round, no living armor, or anything. It even appeared to have been cleaned up slightly.

“You said 3 to 10 years,” a voice said from seemingly nowhere. Sylver tried the locked door again and found it open. He walked inside what looked to be a guest bedroom and slowly inspected the room.

“It’s an estimate. How capable you two are plays a big role in how quickly I can bring you back to life. This is like trying to split a mixed-up pile of black and white sand into two separate piles, it’s slow and careful work, and there’s very little I can help you with it. It’s entirely on you, I’m just giving you the tools to do it,” Sylver explained.

A woman he hadn’t seen before appeared sitting on the bed dressed in a dark grey robe. Sylver recognized her, somewhat, given that he’d worked with enough decayed corpses to be able to guess what the living version would have looked like. It helped that she was clutching a ring of keys in one hand.

“Then what happens? The piles are separated, what happens after that?” the woman asked.

“Before that. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am called Sylver Sezari, necromancer, and adventurer extraordinaire,” Sylver said. He bowed slightly towards the blank-faced woman.

She nodded with her head the smallest amount. The silence lingered.

“Masha,” the woman, Masha, said.

“It is very nice to meet you, Masha. I have a method to repair dead bodies, and within 2 months both your and the other girl’s body will be in perfect condition. I can even change them to suit your needs, I’ve recently had some practice with that, and I’m a lot more confident in my abilities,” Sylver explained. He adjusted a slightly crooked painting and continued to walk around and check for damages. The number of rat corpses was staggering.

“Misha,” Masha corrected.

“Misha and Masha. Sisters?” Sylver asked.

Masha nodded.

“We don’t have to talk about what happened here. I can’t change the past, I can only change the present and future, as can anyone else. Whatever happened, happened, it is too late to do anything about it,” Sylver said. He tugged at the drapes covering the window and slid them out of the way. It was dark inside the barrier, even with the sun at nearly full height. Sylver noticed that Masha was see-through with the extra light interfering.

“Why couldn’t we hurt you? At all, nothing worked, even the armor was useless,” Masha asked.

“A mixture of things. Your magic is what my people call conditional magic. Certain conditions must be met for it to function properly, and I made it so I wouldn’t at any point meet those conditions. There are ways to get around it, which I will show you if you agree to my deal,” Sylver explained. He opened the closet and rummaged through the various suits neatly placed inside. They were both too thin and too long for him.

“So in exchange for this house and service, you’re going to pay us, bring us back to life, and then send us both on our merry way when we’re done and want to leave?” Masha asked. It was surprising how little life her voice had after all the acting fake Sophia had done.

“Yes. I could threaten you into working for me, but I find that most people can be reasoned with. I understand you couldn’t control what you were doing when I first came in here, so I’m not going to hold that against you. And the other people you killed… truth be told I don’t much care about them. They knew the risk when they stepped inside, it wasn’t like they just stumbled in here unaware,” Sylver said.

“There were a few in the beginning. Right after we died, they-”

“Shit happens. I’m not going to pretend I can absolve you of your past, but what I can offer you is a future. A bright one. With money, good food, good drink, friends, fun, husbands, children, family, and all I want in return is a small amount of your time. In 3 years I will have something better and more permanent set up, you and Misha are temporary,” Sylver explained.

“Why? Why go through all this trouble?”

“I have a hard time sleeping when I don’t feel safe, and I would feel safe if two talented phantoms were standing guard over me. There are also… things I want to do that I wouldn’t feel right doing in a place that wasn’t my home. Secrecy is a big part of the deal, anything you see or hear while working for me, stays a secret, no matter the cost,” Sylver answered.

Sylver spent the next several hours being questioned about his motives and reminisced about a simpler time in the past when people took him at his word when he said he was going to do something and trusted him.

“I want to hire you to do this, this, and this for me, in exchange for this,” Sylver would say.

“Sounds great, when can I start?” the person being negotiated with would say in response.

It took a while but Sylver managed to convince the two phantoms to work with him. Masha did most of the talking, but Sylver asked Misha directly just to be safe.

In the end, he finally had a place to call his own. All that was left was cleaning up the mess downstairs and setting everything up.