Soulweaver 64: Aerion’s Gambit (Patreon)

It turned out I did not, in fact, have a concussion. A City Guard Boonworthy healer had fixed me up while I’d been out. 

That didn’t make my current predicament any less crazy. It actually made it worse—I didn’t have mental illness to blame for the fireballs that streaked through the sky.

“What the fuck is going on, Philip?” I asked, feeling Aerion stir from beside me. “I have so many questions.”

Philip’s expression sank. “I’m sure you do. Why don’t I begin with why I’m here. We’ll work up to the bigger issues. Might be easier for you to take it in that way.”

The distant screams of terror threatened to make me panic, but seeing how calm Philip was definitely helped. 

I took a deep breath, and nodded. Aerion had arisen, looking as confused as I was, and the last thing I wanted to do was to send her into a panic.

“You were never sick,” I said. “Were you?”

Philip shook his head. “I was not. As much as I’d love to spin you a story, time is rather short so I must be brief. I, as you can see, work for the Basecrest City Guard.”

My eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. Why hide it?”

Philip shrugged through his plate armor. “Rogar’s not the sort to take kindly to my working multiple jobs. Especially not when it affects him. Figured mum’s the word, and I’d appreciate it if you kept it that way. I may be in the Reserves, but as you can see, when I’m called to muster, I must answer.”

I could definitely see Rogar getting angry and firing poor Philip the moment he found out. Still, Philip had to be a masochist for wanting to work for that guy. Either that, or he really enjoyed metalworking.

“Really could’ve used your help, though,” I grumbled. “You won’t believe what Rogar put me through, making me trying to fill your quota.”

Philip winced. “That’s… I apologize, Greg. I did not think he’d do such a thing.”

“Yeah, well. It worked out in the end,” I said. “So, the Reserves. Does the city calling you into active duty have anything to do with those?”

I pointed to the sky, where a bright-red fireball streaked across the sky. There were far fewer than when I’d blacked out, but the sight of a meteor that large put me on edge.

“I’m afraid so,” Philip replied.

“Why?” It was Aerion, who spoke, in a voice tinged with panic. “What does it mean?”

“It means that a Cataclysm Dungeon will soon befall us. Baron Sinclair has been making the necessary preparations, though the parade preparations complicated matters. I’m afraid that regardless of what we do, the damage will be severe if it lands anywhere nearby.”

Aerion blanched, while I remained confused.

“Sorry? Did you say land?” 

“Few alive know of this, but meteor showers are sometimes harbingers of a certain type of Cataclysm Dungeon. Though we don’t expect it to be of high grade, even a low level dungeon can wreak mayhem. It is said to resemble a very large meteor, and its impact will cause great devastation.”

“That’s…” Aerion breathed. “I thought we had time!”

“As did I,” Philip said. “Alas, it seems the Cataclysm is upon us. I suppose we ought to be thankful the Champions were summoned early, this time around.”

“Not early enough,” Aerion said darkly, giving me a glance, which I discreetly ignored.

“What does this mean for the city?” I asked, finally rising to my feet. I tested out my range of motions—stiff, but good to go. The aches were from my time sitting on the hard stone, rather than anything combat-related. My mace, poleax, and shield were all nearby.

“Tenuous,” Philip said. “Some of the meteors hit and cause damage and loss of life, but most burn up before they land. All we can do is damage control. I was charged with tending to this area, though since we already had an operation underway, I’m standing by until I receive further orders.”

“These meteors… Will they keep coming? Do we know when the Cataclysm Dungeon’s going to arrive?”

Philip shook his head. “Nothing is known, I’m afraid. All we can do is pray.”

“That sounds pretty bleak,” I muttered, before my eyes widened as I remembered an incredibly important detail. “Tarquin. What happened to Tarquin?”

“No need to fear. He took his own life, perhaps fearing what lied in store.”

“Wait. There was something on him. Something of my friend’s…” I glanced at Aerion, who bit her lip and shook her head. 

“It wasn’t on him,” she said. She opened her mouth, as if to say more, but shut it after glancing at Philip.

Fuck. After all of this… We had better find that pendant. “Please tell me he at least had something on him?” I asked.

Aerion shook her head. “Aside from the few silvers I pocketed off his body, no.”

“Alright,” I sighed. “We’ll kill two birds with one stone, then.”

“Sorry?” Philip said. “What’s this about birds?”

“A saying,” I replied. “We’ll join in the search of Tarquin’s premises. The Baron suspects him of being behind the parade incident, and we need proof. ”

Philip’s jovial demeanor diminished. “Greg, I hate to say this to a friend, but you fight like a kid. Best you stay back until we’ve combed the criminal’s place. Never know what sorts of traps he’s laid behind.”

“Believe me, I know,” I said. “I know I can’t fight worth a damn. But I’m not so helpless I can’t protect myself, either. Besides, I have her. She’s Blessed, and we took down a Blessed on our own. I’m guessing he was at least Emergence Rank?”

“Peak Emergence,” Aerion confirmed.

“See?”

Philip hesitated, pursing his lips as he sized Aerion up. “I… suppose I’ve no right to stop you. Only that I have no wish to see a friend in danger.”

“Thanks Philip,” I said, putting a hand on his armored shoulder. “I appreciate that. We’ll be careful.”

“Right, then,” Philip said with more conviction. “Then, when this all blows over, would you mind if I gave you a few pointers? Nothing fancy, I promise. Just the basics—footwork, striking, blocks. That kind of thing.”

“I would love that,” I said. “Seriously, that would be incredible.”

Philip gave me a pained smile. “Least I can do. After what I put you through with Rogar. Never thought he’d foist my workload upon you. Should’ve seen that coming.”

I waved off his concern. “No problem. You not being there is what made me his apprentice.”

Philip blinked. “Come again. Apprentice? By Dominion, my ears are failing me.”

I grinned. “Your ears are just fine. Long story, but I got a promotion. Of sorts. There was a contract, and I’m not sure if I’ll regret this, but for now, I’m learning from Rogar himself.”

Philip remained silent for a moment, before his expression warped into something that looked an awful like pity.

“My condolences.”

— — 

“Any idea where Tarquin might be hiding your pendant?” I asked. “I figure it ‘d be somewhere pretty close to his office, if not actually inside. Though, I don’t know why he’d hide your collateral, specifically. Wonder if he lumped all the collateral he keeps in one place—!?”

The moment we were out of earshot of the guards, Aerion reached into her robe and brought out a glistening silver pendant.

Except, it was far shinier and more exotic-looking than silver. And nestled in the middle was a blue soulstone.

I sighed in relief. “When did you…”

“I wasn’t exactly forthright earlier,” she said. “This information is too sensitive to trust to anyone but Baron Sinclair himself.”

I raised a brow. “What, Philip? He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t betray us.”

Aerion gave me a pointed look. “You know him that well, do you?”

“Well, I’ve worked with him, and he’s City Guard… But, okay. I see your point. I think he’s fine, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be safe. So, what’s this information?”

Aerion shook her head. “Not here.”

She stomped off, searching for a secluded spot. Unable to find any—the area was crawling with Commander Tarth’s troops—she opted for a nearby alehouse, which was not only packed, but full of people gossiping about both the guard activity and the meteors that were still falling from the sky.

We got a table in a corner, and only after our drinks and fried potato crisps had arrived did she say anything.

“I think we’re fine. I don’t see anyone who’s noticed our presence.”

“What is it, Aerion?” I asked. “If it’s this important…”

“Before Tarquin died, he gave me a location. Of a hidden floorboard in his office. Inside, I found… Well, I found a piece of paper. Calling out the names of every person involved in the Eskil incident. It included detailed instructions for where to obtain the dung from, when the inspections would happen, and when and where to smear it and defile Dominion’s crest.”

“That’s… exactly the evidence we need,” I said, realizing the implications of this discovery. “That’s great, Aerion!”

“There’s more,” she said. “It calls out each person as working for various individuals. People I happen to know are other crime lords in this city. I’d even thought of approaching one, earlier.”

“Another… Oh,” I said, as understanding slowly dawned on me. “He’s called out a rival. He knew he was going down, so he took out everyone he could.”

“Right,” Aerion replied.

“You think it’s legit? Or do you think he’s trying to frame the others?”

Aerion shrugged. “I believe that’s for the Baron’s men to find out.”

“In which case… Why hide all of this from Philip? Even if he was a bad actor, the news would eventually reach Tarth, and then Baron Sinclair.”

Aerion smiled impishly. “And risk having the credit for this discovery given to Commander Tarth? I think we ought to deliver this to Baron Sinclair. Personally. Don’t you?”

My eyes lit up. “Tarth’s men. Have they found any other evidence?”

Her grin grew wider. “Not one. Nor do I believe they will. Tarquin would’ve burned everything he didn’t wish to be found.”

“Then…”

I thought of all the reputation we’d gain with the Baron from this one action alone. I thought of the hundred-odd City Guard combing his premises, coming up with nothing. 

“Aerion?” I mirrored her grin. “You have the mind of a devil, you know that? And I absolutely love it.”