72: Executor Rising (Patreon)

Any Magnus fans out there? You might recognize the title :-P 

Vir’s first stop after exiting the sewers was the inn. He did his best to ignore the scowls and disgusted stares as he trudged his way up to the receptionist to order a bath. In fact, he ordered two time slots.

Only an hour of scrubbing and soaking later did he finally felt clean again. It was with great satisfaction that he threw his old rags away; Vir had his fill of sewers for a lifetime.

His second stop was the Brotherhood Sanctum, whose doors remained open at all hours of the day and night, out of consideration for the more special contracts that could only be completed at odd hours. That meant Vir didn’t have to wait until dawn to turn in his Jatu—currently rotting within his rucksack.

The sky was dark as Vir stepped out of the inn, and it wasn’t just because of the Vimana. Daha’s city lights had the odd effect of occluding the stars.

“Intent?” the veiled Brotherhood greeter asked the moment Vir stepped inside the Sanctum’s enormous doors.

Vir held up his Jatu. “I’m here to complete my initiation task.”

“Follow me,” the greeter said, starting down the hallway. Though Vir initially found their brevity disconcerting, he was starting to appreciate it. They certainly didn’t waste any time.

Upon scanning the greeter, he was unsurprised to discover that this person’s prana signature differed from the one who’d greeted him on his first visit.

Vir entered the room with the array of Executor booths, and this time, a deep male voice called out to him right away.

“Avi booth. Enter.”

Vir obeyed, shutting the booth’s door upon entering. He placed the Jatu corpse on the table, expecting the veiled Executor to say something. But when the silence stretched on for half a minute, Vir suspected something was off.

“Is this not what you wanted?” he asked.

“What was your task?” the Executor asked.

“To bring you the eyes of that which sees without eyes—oh. Do you seriously want me to pluck its eyes out?”

The Executor remained silent.

“Are you sure?” Vir pressed. “This might soil your desk, you know?”

The veiled man chuckled. “The Brotherhood is no stranger to blood.”

With a sigh, Vir retrieved his knife from his waistbelt and did the nasty deed, gingerly pushing the eyes over to the Executor with his blade.

“Well done, Apramor,” the Executor said, collecting the eyes with his bare hands.

“How do you know my name?” Vir asked.

The Executor tilted his head and said, “I am the Executor,” as if that explained everything.

“The person I talked to the other day was a woman. You’re clearly someone else,” Vir replied. “I thought the Brotherhood was supposed to keep secrets?”

“You misunderstand, friend. The Executors are many, and yet we are one. When you speak with one of us, you speak with all of us. Within a branch, you may treat us as one and the same.”

Vir couldn’t possibly understand how that worked. Were their minds somehow linked telepathically? Or was the man just trying to say that they worked as close colleagues, sharing information about each candidate they encountered? Vir suspected it was the latter, though he couldn’t understand the need for such melodrama.

“You completed your task in time, and neither did you use outside help.”

Vir wondered whether getting help from Amin counted as help, but the Brotherhood didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe they didn’t even know?

“No, your sewer rat friend does not qualify. The meeting was borne from fate and chance. They offered you their knowledge and were compensated for services rendered.”

Vir’s eyes went wide. “You had someone tail me in the sewers!?”

The veiled man left the question hang unanswered.

I never even noticed! And I’m supposed to be good at stealth, Vir thought. Did they see me put my face paint on? Did they see me use Dance of the Shadow Demon?

Despite his stealth skills, he was still a small fish in a vast ocean.

“Though we were somewhat amused at your cartography exploits,” Executor said with a chuckle.

Cold sweat ran down Vir’s back. “Wait. That means you saw me…”

“Saw you use your very unique Talent? Yes. We did. But fear not, Initiate. Your business is your own, and your secrets are safe with us. Neither will the Merchant Guild ever learn of your little hustle. Records of your exploits during your trial have already been purged. No trace of evidence exists. It is only during the initiation trial that we monitor our operatives.”

“That’s… good,” Vir replied, placing the silvers needed for his initiation fee on the counter. “I’d like my deposit back.”

The Executor readed under the table and produced his silver and Rudvik’s coppers, in a separate sack. It wasn’t the silver he cared about, but the coppers. Vir pocketed it, feeling whole again.

Vir let out a slow breath. The Executor hadn’t mentioned his face paint. Either they hadn’t seen him apply it—he was fairly certain no one had broken into his room—or they simply didn’t care. Either way, Vir wasn’t about to broach the topic.

“Tell me, Initiate, are you familiar with the Brotherhood’s system? No? Brotherhood mercenaries take on contracts assigned by us, the Executors.”

“Wait, I don’t get to choose?” Vir asked.

“You do not. Executors have full control over what missions you receive.”

“Why’s that? Vir asked. Being assigned a mission didn’t sit right with him.

“Initiate, Executors all have decades of experience in the Brotherhood. Our decision-making skills far outstrip that of those new to our organization. For a time, the Brotherhood allowed its members to choose their own missions. Can you guess what happened?”

“It didn’t go well?”

The veiled man nodded. “Many lives were squandered, and so the system was updated. As you rise through the ranks, you may be given choices of missions, but this is a privilege, not a right.”

Vir said nothing. No doubt a bunch of overambitious fools had gone and gotten themselves killed, forcing the Brotherhood’s hand. But this meant that he wouldn’t be able to hide his skills when getting Balar tested.

If they assigned him missions based on his Balar rank, he’d have to ensure he went all out to gain access to the best missions—the one that would let him quickly rise through the ranks. Besides, they already knew of Dance, so hiding it was pointless.

“Successful completion of each contract awards karma within the Brotherhood,” the Executor continued. “Denying a contract has no penalty, but you forego the right to accept new contracts for a period. Failing a contract nets you a reputation penalty. Garner enough reputation, and you will be promoted.”

“What if I refuse a mission on moral grounds?” Vir wasn’t about to slaughter innocents.

“As you complete missions, the Executor Collective will build an understanding of your particular… tastes. The situation you describe is rare, but you are always free to refuse.”

For a penalty, Vir thought. Maybe he wouldn’t lose any reputation with the organization, but he’d be barred from taking on contracts for some time afterward.

“If you accept these terms, then we may proceed to your ranking duel.”

“I accept, now?” Vir asked. “It’s nighttime.”

“We retain Balarian proctors on hand at all hours. Night or day makes no difference for us, but if you would prefer to fight during the day, we can make arrangements.”

“No,” Vir said. “This is fine.” In fact, it was better. The night was his friend. Shadows abounded, allowing unrestricted use of Dance.

“Excellent. Then, Initiate, leave this booth and someone will guide you to the arena.”

Vir did as he was told, leaving the Jatu carcass on the table for the Executor to clean up. If the veiled figure minded, he didn’t show it.

A veiled woman showed him down the hall to the courtyard from before. Now that Vir looked more closely, it wasn’t a courtyard at all, but a stadium with stone benches placed all around the central pit.

Many Magic Lamps illuminated the area, and in the middle of the packed dirt arena floor stood two men.

One wore full black brigandine cuirass, gauntlets, and grieves. A full helm covered his face. In one hand, he gripped a large oval shield that covered everything from his chest to his knees, and in the other, he gripped a steel talwar. An arming sword rode on his hip. The weapon’s decorations reminded Vir of the knights’ talwars.

He wasn’t able to lift a finger against the Brij’s invaders. This time’s gonna be different, he thought, eyeing the warrior.

The other man looked to be in his forties. A heavyset, clean shaven warrior whose tanned, scarred face reminded Vir of a mejai battlefield. He was clad in a brown robe that reached to his knees.

One look at the man and Vir knew he was Riyan’s kindred spirit.

From the way he stood in his parade rest, to his powerful pecs, biceps, and calves which all rippled with muscle, to his utterly emotionless expression, Vir guessed the man to be the Kin’jal proctor.

“You must be the new Initiate,” the warrior said, his voice coming muffled through his helm.

“I am. Are you my opponent?”

“Indeed. Your actions during the first half of the exam have already qualified you for membership into the Brotherhood, as Initiate. I am simply here to help gauge your Balar Ranking. The gentleman by my side is an anointed Kin’jal Balarian examiner. He will bestow an official rank upon you, after judging your performance.”

The Kin’jal man nodded, remaining silent. Vir wondered whether the Kin’jal stoic warrior stereotype was true after all. Prana Vision told him the man was an Apex Talent wielder, strong with Earth Affinity magic. The only thing out of character was his Greater Life Affinity—the man was a Life mejai, and a better one than Riyan, based on his affinity. Which meant the sum of his affinities was higher than Riyan’s.

“If I do well, can I skip past Initiate to become an Acolyte?” Vir asked.

“Ambitious!” the unnamed warrior boomed. “Good! But not so fast. Your rank is based on your contributions to the Brotherhood, as well as your ability to reliably complete tasks. Merely placing high on this exam is no substitute for those. However! Should you attain a high Balar Rank, Executors may see fit to give you more demanding missions.”

“And those would help me rise quicker?”

“Indeed. They also pay out more coin. Now, are you ready?” the warrior said, leveling his poleax at Vir from twenty paces away.

Vir confirmed his strategy again. Hiding his true abilities would only hinder his progress. He wouldn’t hold anything back; he’d go all out to attain the highest rank he possibly could. Would he be able to break the Balar 30 that Riyan had predicted?

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Let’s begin.”