Soulweaver 55: The Unlikeliest Opportunities (Patreon)

To say the city was in a fervor would be an understatement. The streets were packed. Every tavern and alehouse we went to was packed. And all anyone could talk about was the Guildmaster’s encounter with Eskil and Dominion.

I could hardly blame them. I was just as confused as everyone else. After the drama of the blasphemy, Dominion vanished in dramatic fashion—with billowing gusts of wind and a mini vortex that hid him as he disappeared. Meanwhile, Eskil was swarmed by Dominion’s priests and elite guards, and was swiftly carted off to who-knew-where. Probably the next city in his tour.

The shellshocked guildmaster was imprisoned, and the Baron didn't look much better, though he had enough wits about him to give orders to the City Guard to tell the crowd to disperse. I had to hand it to the guy—he seemed more capable than most nobles I’d encountered in media.

That left a gossipy mob who slowly dispersed, but there was far too much energy for everyone to just go home. So they gathered in alehouses, taverns and inns. Just like us.

“How is that even possible?” I asked, munching on some fried potato crisps. Our inn’s tavern was full and I was hungry, so we’d searched for one on the outskirts of the city. Even this place was packed, but we’d at least managed to snag a seat. “Wouldn’t the guildmaster have inspected the ax personally?” 

Aerion copped her chin with one hand and stared down at the long table where we sat. There was so much ambient noise, I almost had to shout to make myself heard, despite us sitting across from each other.

“Sabotage after he certified it, most likely,” Aerion replied. “While only cosmetic blemish and easily fixed, it is the impropriety of a guildmaster presenting a god and his Champion with a defiled weapon at issue here.”

I cringed. “Yeaaah. Not a good look.”

It’d be like giving your boss wilted flowers for his anniversary or something. Awkward at best. Relationship-ending at worst.

“And of all the gods, it had to be Dominion,” I muttered.

“Exactly. Dominion is not known for his patience or magnanimity. He values strength and competence above all, and is no stranger to doling out severe punishment.”

I wondered how Cosmo would’ve reacted. Knowing him, he’d probably have burst out laughing and patted the blacksmith on the back for lightening his day.

The thought made me smile. My patron sure had his quirks, and his true nature was still an enigma, but I felt like I’d get along much better with him than I ever would with someone like Dominion.

Which brought up something I’d been wondering about for a while. Something I’d wanted to bring up, but never had. Never felt like the right time to.

I took a deep breath and went for it.

“Say, Aerion… About that. I know how you feel about Cosmo, and I know you hate his territory. I really do. Just… After seeing Eskil, it seems like a Champion stands to gain a lot from the people who worship his god. Maybe announcing who I am wouldn’t be smart right now, but if we return to Order’s territory? Heck, I’d probably get my own parade. And my own weapons gifted to me. I’m wondering if I’m going about this wrong. Instead of hiding and working on my forging skills, should I be tapping into Order’s territory’s resources instead? You said your people were technologically advanced, right? Weapons, money, safety, training facilities… The list of benefits goes on and on.”

Aerion, who’d been contentendly slurping up her soup, had set her spoon down, and was staring holes into her wooden bowl.

“Perhaps,” she muttered, and I strained to hear her over the din.

“Really?” I said, not quite believing her words. “Thought you’d say that was a bad idea.”

“It is a bad idea,” Aerion said, finally looking me in the eyes. To my immense surprise, I thought I saw… pain in her expression.

“The benefits would be many, yes. The downsides would be far worse, I’m afraid.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“For one, you shouldn’t expect the same sort of reception and benefits there.”

“And why’s that?” I was genuinely curious.

“Order has never summoned a Champion. Not even once. The infrastructure, the instructors, the training facilities… None of those exist. At best, they might be able to cobble together something, but I wonder how much this will aid you.”

“That… is a good point,” I said. “Still, any instruction would be nice. And I wouldn’t have to worry about money.”

“Fair. Though yet again, you’d be better off finding a master swordsman in Dominion. My people rely heavily on archery. Crossbows, ballistae, that sort of thing. And they train soldiers, not er, adventurers who must be capable of acting alone. So unless you plan to get into ranged combat as part of an army, I very much doubt they’ll be able to help much past the basics, which can be learned anywhere. Money, yes. You’ll have plenty of that, if that is what you want.”

“You know it isn’t, Aerion,” I said. “No need for the judging eyes. Money’s useful, sure, but there are a lot of ways of making it. What about their treasury? Surely, it’d be full of priceless relics I could use…?”

I realized the issue the moment the words left my lips, but Aerion was ready with the counter regardless.

“You once told me you cannot enchant items of a far higher rarity than your current level, yes? True, my people serve as medics and provide emergency relief to nations beleaguered after a cycle, and as such have hoarded quite the stockpile of legendary weapons. Weapons I doubt you’d be able to enchant.”

“That’s definitely true. I can enchant [Rare] items with a 33% chance now, so I suppose I could brute force it if I had access to the entire arsenal, but anything higher than that? Forget it. 

It was why I’d written off Initializing Eskil’s ax—the one that would eventually be gifted to him. It felt like an amazing way to farm experience, but there were a few problems. 

For one, it was possible the weapon would be of a grade higher than [Rare], in which case it’d be pretty much impossible to enchant. Even 1 in 3 odds weren’t good when I only had one chance. And even assuming it worked… It sounded like Eskil had a dozen of these things, gifted to him by the various cities. 

There was a decent chance he’d never use it. Or use it rarely. That felt like a pretty terrible bargain considering the amount of Essence it’d eat up. Not to mention even getting close enough to touch the new blade would be next to impossible, given the security that was bound to be around it after today’s incident.

Still, the idea wasn’t terrible. Maybe after I’d ranked up again, and with a hero who I could be sure would use it…

Actually, hold up,” I said, suddenly realizing the implications of Aerion’s words. “Your people offer relief to other nations? How does that work?”

Aerion looked at me strangely, before understanding dawned in her eyes. “You wouldn’t know. Would you…”

“Care to enlighten me?” I asked after Aerion trailed off in thought.

“Sorry. Order’s territory does not suffer Cataclysms like the others. Nor does he create Trials. His territory is thus both blessed and cursed. Blessed that most of his people do not have to suffer the horrors of the Cataclysm. And cursed that, in order to have any hope of gaining strength, my people have to venture into other countries, where we are not welcome.”

I sat back in my chair, running my fingers through my hair. Now that was a revelation and a half. Order’s territory didn’t suffer Cataclysms! And it didn’t get Trials, either.

My already sketchy understanding of Cosmo just got a whole lot murkier. No Cataclysms meant no horrible slaughters. It’d mean his people led more peaceful lives. And it explained their technological advancement. Without a Cataclysm wiping out half the country every several hundred years, his territory would grow prosperous. 

It reminded me of Earth when countries switched from monarchies to democracies and republics. Peaceful transfer of power allowed those countries to flourish like they never had.

And the Trials? Sure, the Trials offered great opportunity to gain strength, but as I’d witnessed firsthand, they were cruel, treacherous places where countless delvers lost their lives.

From my perspective, it was looking an awful lot like Cosmo was doing his people an enormous favor, but I didn’t dare voice that to Aerion. She certainly didn’t see it that way, and who was I to judge? I only had the barest inkling of what she’d gone through.

“I’m gonna need some time to digest that,” I said at last. “But go on. You look like you have more reasons why we shouldn’t go back?”

“Yes. As I said, Trials do not exist there. So going back would be counterproductive to gaining strength. And lastly… The one who governs Order’s territory is… Not a nice person. To put it lightly. I’ll admit he is an effective leader. Too effective, if you ask me. He is a master at the game of politics.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding with understanding. “You’re saying if I return, I’d be wrapped around his little finger before I know it.”

Aerion’s eyes shot wide. “How did you know?”

“Oh, those sorts are a dime a dozen where I come from.” Well, it was that, and the Order-bashing I’d heard from the people in the crowd during the parade. My deity was really not loved, but they’d said pretty nasty things about his country and the people in charge as well. This didn’t just sound like Aerion’s bias talking.

“I see,” she said, somewhat pensively. “Your intuition is correct. His hands are deep within every position of authority. His reach is impossible to escape once he has your attention. And you, of all people, would look like a golden goose to him. You would lose all modicum of freedom. If you are to face him, I suggest you do so only after you gain overwhelming strength.”

“Noted,” I replied, thinking everything over. “And I agree with your assessment. There are definitely benefits to going back, but it seems like the cons are much worse.”

Aerion visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Greg,” she murmured. “I am… glad you feel that way.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize there was another reason she didn’t want to return—one that she’d politely left unsaid.

Aerion clearly had baggage there. She was either a wanted fugitive or something close to it. Yet, she hadn’t mentioned it, using only arguments that pertained to me. It was incredibly sensitive of her. And unnecessary.

“I’d never force you into a tough position, Aerion. I know how hard it is for you to return. I appreciate all the reasons you’ve spelled out for me, but honestly? That would have been reason enough.”

“O-oh,” she said, flushing slightly. “Thanks…”

“So, what do you think happens now?” I asked, tearing off a piece of bread. Thankfully, it hadn’t yet hardened to the point of breaking teeth—something I was immensely thankful for. 

“Unless the guildmaster finds a way to clear his name? Nothing good, I’m afraid. Actually, I’m curious about your read of the situation.”

“My read?” I asked, raising a brow. “Well, I think you’d have to be an idiot to think this was an accident. But who, or why? I don’t have the slightest clue.”

“I… might, “Aerion replied, staring at the soup she idly stirred. “Do you remember the offer Tarquin gave me?”

“He wanted you to leave some papers for someone, right?”

Aerion nodded. “A messenger of his came by to give me some more details. It seems the place is a stamp mint.”

“Stamp mint… As in a place stamp dies are made?” I asked, confused.

“Indeed,” Aerion replied with a nod.

“Wait. Wouldn’t such a place be operated by the Blacksmith’s Guild?”

“It would.”

“Then… You don’t think…” My eyes widened in realization.

“It is entirely possible,” Aerion admitted. “I can’t say for sure without looking at the document—which I couldn’t do, given the wax seal it’d undoubtedly have—but yes. The timing seems awfully convenient.”

“Which would mean your slumlord is trying to frame the Guildmaster. Why, though? What would Tarquin have to gain from something like that? I can’t see it making him any money.”

Aerion shrugged. “I couldn’t say. And besides, this is all just conjecture.”

“Well, that brings up a new question, then,” I said. “What do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Aerion asked with a frown.

“I mean we have a possible lead on the culprit behind this whole thing. You’re not just going to ignore all of this, are you? This could be our opportunity to put that asshole away and get your memento back. Not to mention the favor you’d gain with the city’s government if you were the one to bring the culprit to justice. Imagine the reward.”

Aerion turned pale, eyes darting around, as if worried someone had overheard. “Go against Tarquin? You’re out of your mind. If you knew the power he commanded, you wouldn’t dare utter such careless words.”

“Okay. I get he’s a crimelord. A dangerous one at that. Are you telling me he’s stronger than the armed forces of Basecrest? If the two went to war, who would win?”

“That’s… Basecrest, I imagine. Though the fact they haven’t should tell you something.”

It was my turn to shrug. “Could mean a lot of things. That they haven’t had sufficient cause to act against him until now, or that certain officials have been paid to look the other way. Thing is, Dominion is involved now, and I doubt very much that he cares one whit about the politics of his vassals.”

“That… is true. Though it is still too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous either way, Aerion,” I said. “But tell me, which is the least risky of our options? Do as Tarquin says and plant whatever that note is? With Dominion issuing an execution order? Yeah, no thank you. Even if I was alright helping out a mob boss—which I’m not—that would be suicide.”

“I agree,” Aerion replied with an emphatic nod. “We can’t cooperate with him.”

“So our options are either to go in ourselves, or report him to the authorities. If we can get Basecrest to take him down, we wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Just think of the benefits we’d reap from being in Basecrest’s good graces. Think of the benefits of being on good terms with Dominion. If we can’t rely on Order’s resources, maybe we can rely on his, instead.”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Aerion asked with pursed lips. “The Baron isn’t likely to accept two random visitors, and unless you plan on divulging your little secret, I can’t see how this has any chance of working. Even if he did see us, why would he believe us? We have no evidence.”

I grinned. “We have no evidence… Yet.”

Aerion’s eyes narrowed. “That look. It’s the look you get when you’re about to come up with one of your harebrained schemes.”

My grin widened. “Hear me out. Think I’ve got an idea.”