Chapter 113. Going Off-Track (Patreon)

The more Euryphel ran Ian through scenarios, the more he realized it was probably for the best that he wasn’t there in person. Ian was generally good at hiding when he was in pain–he rarely complained about anything at all–but he couldn’t hide everything, especially when he was up against Soolemar.

Every time Ian faced up against the necromancer, he did so for the first time, having no recollection of previous encounters. Each time he experienced pain enough to render him incoherent. Removed as he was, the prince could separate himself from his feelings of sympathy. If he were there in person, however...he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to see Ian repeatedly subjected to excruciating torture.

“This time I want you to try going straight to Soolemar,” Euryphel commanded. “I don’t see any reason why he might not be in the room you always encounter him in. Maybe if you go there directly, you can actually have a conversation.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The prince brought his cold coffee up to his lips, scenting its rich aroma. “Alright, you’re in a scenario.” What I wouldn’t give for a Sun practitioner or fire elementalist right now...

“I’m inside,” Ian said. “Down, forward, down forward forward?”

The prince groaned. “Down, forward, down, pivot right towards the trash bin, then go forward and down. He should be just past the nearest wall at that point. I’d almost suggest walking around the hall and trying to find a door to enter the normal way.”

“Why is this so complicated?” Ian grumbled. “Okay, I’m smashing through the floors...I’m going forward through an empty conference room and I see the trash bin. Dropping down...and I can sense some vital signatures nearby.”

Euryphel shook his head. “Those aren’t it. Remember that Soolemar’s vital signature is apparently all Death energy.”

“I found him,” Ian replied a moment later. “He’s easy to miss; it’s not just that he’s made of Death energy, but rather that he appears to be inanimate, like his body is a piece of furniture. I hear some people above coming after me but I’ll ignore them for now. If Soolemar is as powerful as you make him seem, he definitely knows that I’m here. The fact that he’s not moving or taking any kind of action is interesting to say the least.”

Euryphel waited as Ian narrated going down the hallway and turning the unlocked knob of a door leading into a small conference room with its single, peculiar occupant.

“You have twenty seconds; make them count.”

“I just introduced myself. He gives me a nod, says that he’s heard of me. Asks why I’m attacking the parliament building. I explain that I’m trying to find someone with whom to discuss the Dark art, someone on my level. He doesn’t say anything; he just seems to be studying me, his eyes narrowing and his fingers steepling before him. He definitely doesn’t appear to be dead or inanimate, no matter what his vital signature suggests.”

“I tell Soolemar that I’m in a Regret scenario and that I’d like a discreet way of finding him. He says to just enter the parliament building while he’s there.”

“He must know that’s impossible,” Euryphel interjected. “It’s too risky to venture into a populous city like Morinapol; someone would notice you and connect the dots.” Euryphel had noticed almost immediately when Ian drew close to Zukal’iss for the first time, the fate arrows massing around the decemancer as conspicuous as a hurricane. Any practitioner of Ian’s level and influence would attract scrutiny once they entered a major city.

“I ask him if it’s possible to contact him remotely. He laughs and says that he doesn’t use a glossY.”

“Nine seconds left, Ian.”

“Sorry, I’m not sure why he’s being such an impossible prick. At this point I’m not even sure I want to discuss necromancy with him. Actually...I just told him those words exactly, and now he seems a bit more interested. I say the word necromancy again and he nods his head slowly, then says that I could probably find him–”

Euryphel felt the tug of the scenario collapsing in on itself, but used all of his strength to hold it out for one more second, biting his lip and clenching his fists, dropping the mug of coffee to the floor. It shattered just as the scenario ended, Ian’s final words clear in the prince’s mind: “I could probably find him in Yurusi Canyon.”

The prince gulped a breath of air and leaned back in his chair. “Ian. Soolemar says you might be able to find him in Yurusi Canyon. I want you to repeat what you just did but start by stating the facts: You’re Ian Dunai, a peak Death practitioner interested in learning about necromancy. Tell him that you know he’s Soolemar and that he has a hideout in Yurusi Canyon. Try and get him to tell you more information about where he lives.”

“Eury...maybe we should take a break. It’s almost time for you to wake up and you haven’t yet slept.”

While Euryphel was tired, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. When he pushed himself against his father’s killer, there were many times he’d wanted to take a break, to give up, but part of him always knew that all it took was giving up once and taking it easy to unravel his unshakeable will and sap his momentum. There was no other option but to continue forward.

“We don’t know how long Soolemar is going to be at the parliament building,” Euryphel replied. “As far as I’m concerned, his presence isn’t a typical occurrence; if we left and came back later, I’d be surprised if he were still here.”

“Fine; we’ll see this through to the end. Let me know when I’m in a scenario.”

Euryphel made a lazy gesture with his hand. “Go.”

—

Thirty minutes later, Ian thought they’d gotten some solid information. While he had absolutely no first-hand recollection of any encounters with Soolemar, Euryphel’s cliff notes were enough to roughly understand everything important.

Soolemar didn’t actually have any kind of secret hideout in the Yurusi Canyon; in defiance of necromancer stereotypes, the man owned a penthouse in one of Morinapol’s most expensive shoreline properties. Soolemar hadn’t given them his penthouse address–not that it would have helped since Ian couldn’t enter Morinapol–but he did eventually give them his full legal name.

Euryphel had seemed particularly excited after the iteration in which he’d managed to tease that information out. Ian wished he could’ve seen the prince’s exuberance in person.

Soolemar’s legal name was, interestingly enough, Ezio Soole Mar, though Ian recalled that all of the references in Hercates’ grimoire referred to the man by a mononym.

Once they had his name, they were able to search the distributed network–as well as the SPU’s database of strategic human assets–to find out more information. The SPU’s database didn’t have any information on him, while the distributed network search revealed that Soolemar was a board member and financial backer of the Suvvan Desert Wildlife Protection Club. His board member description indicated that he was a long-time supporter of the Suvvan Desert’s preservation, paying particular attention to the natural wonder of Yurusi Canyon at the desert’s center. One passage read, “If not enjoying the view from Morinapol, don’t be surprised to find Mar enjoying a stroll through Yurusi with his dog Vidian.”

While Ian found it a bit disappointing that they couldn’t learn more, he agreed with Euryphel that they now had a concrete, if tedious, direction in which to go: visit Yurusi Canyon every day and hope to catch Soolemar on one of his supposedly-frequent visits.

—

Ian still had most of the day at his disposal. Even though Soolemar probably wasn’t leaving the city today, Ian decided to check out the Yurusi Canyon.

He hopped on an outbound hovergloss on the same line he took to get closer to the city, though didn’t get off at the stop closest to the safe house. Instead he took the hovergloss until it reached the last stop before the edge of the desert.

A small, off-track hovergloss station stood across the way from the high-speed hovergloss line. This close to the desert yellow sand was everywhere; Ian could feel grains already making their way into his boots. The humidity was too low for there to be any snow, but the overcast sky and cold, winter light left no question that while the desert was dry, it wasn’t warm.

Ian shivered as he walked out of the open air and entered the off-track station, approaching the simple counter off to the left side.

“Hello, how can I help?” a receptionist asked, a polite smile stretching across her face.

“I’d like to visit Yurusi Canyon,” Ian said, returning a smile of his own.

“Since it’s the off season, we’re only running one trip at a time. The next one’s scheduled to come back in two hours; will that be acceptable?”

Ian nodded. “That’s fine. Can I just wait here?”

The woman nodded and gestured to a few chairs scattered throughout the room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Is there anywhere nearby I can get lunch?” Ian asked.

The woman considered for a moment. “There’s the place across the street next to the hovergloss rail.”

“Great, thanks.”

Half an hour later, Ian got comfortable in the off-track hovergloss building, the crumbs from a simple ham sandwich caught in a napkin and thrown into the trash. Ian began to doze off only to awaken when a new person sat down a few seats away from him.

The man looked old with his rather sunken features and white hair, but he walked with swift and sure movements like someone far younger. The man’s irises were striking bright blue orbs surrounded by mint green, his intense gaze projecting a general sense of alertness and intelligence.

Ian nearly fell out of his chair. He wanted to wake Euryphel, but knew that the prince was sleeping.

Just then, a message came in over quantum channel: “Yes, you’re looking at Soole Mar. We’ll advise you on the best way to proceed to the best of our ability; for now, our team recommends just introducing yourself to him as Ian Baldwin.”

Ian found the words of SPU Regret practitioner somewhat dissatisfying. If Eury were on the line, he’d be five steps ahead and telling me the exact steps to take to optimize my first impression.

“Are you also heading to Yurusi Canyon?” Ian asked, trying his best to act casual.

Soolemar’s head pivoted. “I am. I haven’t seen you before; are you a traveler?”

Ian smiled. “I’m visiting Gnoste from Shattradan.” He struggled to think of something else to add. Soolemar clearly thought the canyon was worth protecting, so it couldn’t hurt to say something positive. “I’ve heard that the canyon is a natural wonder.”

“It is, though it’s better to visit in the spring,” Soolemar replied, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands.

“It was now or never.”

Soolemar chuckled. “Now it is, then.”

As the man spoke, Ian couldn’t help but puzzle over his bizarre vital signature. Soolemar looked and seemed alive, but the inanimate black-gray of his vital signature gave Ian the impression he was talking to a wooden mannequin.

“Is there something on my face?” Soolemar asked, flashing a smile.

Ian blinked. “Sorry, just lost in thought.” I want to know how you did it, Ian thought. Is this not your real body? Is it just a puppet? If so, it was the most realistic puppet Ian had ever seen, eons above the creations of the loop necromancer.

“Do you study at the university?” Soolemar asked.

Ian looked down at his sweatshirt and remembered that it was repping a random Eastern university. “No, I’ve only visited. Why are you visiting the canyon? Sounds like this isn’t your first visit.”

“No, it’s not. I try to visit often: It’s an excellent retreat from the urban sprawl that’s overtaken the rest of Gnoste.”

“Do you go alone?”

“Sometimes.”

“You should probably stop talking for now,” the SPU Regret practitioner interjected. “The conversation isn’t going anywhere.”

Ian sighed to himself. Well, there goes a good first impression.

The receptionist called out to them a minute later. “The hovergloss is back. Be ready to go in the next five minutes.”

Ian stood up and stretched his arms, then began to walk back towards the front entrance of the station before Soolemar stopped him.

“The hovergloss is going to be in the back,” he explained, gesturing with a thumb towards a nondescript door. Ian followed Soolemar outside to a small landing platform with a parked hovergloss.

Soon, a new individual came outside and headed for the hovergloss, unlocking it and sweeping her legs inside the driver’s section in the front.

“Hop in,” she called out, her curly, ginger hair bouncing with the shifting of her head.

Ian entered the hovergloss after Soolemar, an empty seat the only separation between the two of them. The hovergloss was small and maneuverable, typical of a hovergloss intended for almost-exclusively off-track operations.

“I’m Jordan and I’m going to be your driver today. Mar, I know you know the drill, but bear with me while I explain how things work.”

“Don’t mind me,” Soolemar replied, his gaze focused on the landscape beyond the window.

“What’s your name?”

“Ian.”

“Great. It’s going to take us about thirty minutes to reach the canyon. This hovergloss is pretty speedy; it’d take most hoverglosses at least an hour. When we arrive, you’ll both have two hours to walk around and do what you want to do. Once the two hours are up, I need you to meet at the drop-off point and come back to the hovergloss. I won’t leave without both of you present, but I do ask for you to return on time. Questions?”

Ian thought that it seemed fairly straightforward. “I don’t think so.”

“Great.” With that, Jordan brought the hovergloss into a slow vertical climb. After it was a few feet over the top of the roof, she accelerated the vehicle forward until it was moving nearly as fast as a hovergloss car snapped to a proper line.

Once the hovergloss locked into a constant speed, Jordan glanced behind. “So, Ian, why don’t you tell us about yourself?”