Grand Game 452: Venturing into the Unfamiliar (Patreon)

82 Days Left to Broker Peace in Sector 12,560

You have successfully stored the nature unchained spell in the ring, mage’s surprise. 

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 94. Other modifiers: +24 from items.

You have slept for 4 hours. 

You have cast facial disguise, assuming the visage of Jasiah.

Dawn crept over the plains with me sitting on the grassy knoll and Ghost dozing in the reeds. Nine hours had passed since I’d slain Cine and Yara’s people, and I was on high alert. If the faction’s representatives were going to appear, it would be soon.

The entire venture with the Blades was a risk, but I was reluctant to spend more time in the Marches than I had to. It was true, I knew nearly nothing of the faction, their goals, and the alliances. It was also true I could be courting disaster by remaining a stationary target for their Powers. 

But I was gambling that the Blades’ leaders would want to recover their lost sector more than they desired slaying an errant Powerful Initiate. Only time would tell if I’d chosen right, though.

My mindsight pinged.

My gaze shifted to the left. A mindglow had slipped across the boundary of my mental circle of awareness, approaching, funnily enough, from the south—the opposite direction from which I’d expected any visitor to appear. Was the sector’s safe zone in that direction?

Probably.

Reaching out with my will, I inspected the unknown consciousness.

The target is Tyelin, a level 260 human artful burglar and bears a Mark of Blythe.

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. The player was still not visible, hidden by the intervening folds in the land, but the fact that he’d chosen to approach unaccompanied and openly boded well.

But he might not be as alone as he seems. 

Who knew how many others were hiding nearby? And there was the Blade’s level to consider too. At his rank, Tyelin would be no push-over.

“Heads up, Ghost,” I murmured. “We have company.”

Through our familiar bond, I felt her snap alert. “The player approaching from the south?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you sense any others?”

A drawn-out pause. “No.”

I relaxed slightly, glad for the pyre wolf’s confirmation of what my own senses were telling me. “You know the plan,” I said, rising to my feet. “Let’s stick to it.”

“Good luck, Prime.”

Folding my hands in front of me, I set myself to wait for our visitor. 

 ✵ ✵ ✵

A few seconds later, a slim figure materialized on the plains.  

Even across the hundred and fifty odd yards separating us, I could tell his gaze was fixed on me. Tyelin made no move to conceal himself, yet he slipped so unobtrusively across the ground that the grass was barely disturbed. 

The Blade’s hands rested at his sides—in plain sight just like mine. He bore no obvious weapons either and was dressed plainly in a cotton shirt, dark gloves, and pants. 

Unarmed and unarmored? 

Was that a sign of arrogance or a gesture of friendship? No way to tell. Tyelin’s stride was easy and relaxed, and even though it was obvious I watched him, he appeared unperturbed by my regard. I turned my attention to my visitor’s face. 

It was as… forgettable as the rest of him. 

With dark hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and an easy smile on his lips, Tyelin was not someone anyone would give a second glance to. Yet, he was a rank twenty-six player and therefore could not be nearly as innocuous as he projected.

“He has no scent,” Ghost said suddenly.

Before I could respond, Tyelin’s face tightened fractionally—had he sensed Ghost’s sending?—but his expression smoothened over so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. Still to be safe, I ordered, “No talking. There are listeners.”

The Blade came to a halt before me. “So, Yara spoke truly,” he said conversationally. “You truly are a power. I had my doubts.” Not waiting for a response, he went on. “Unless that is as much a lie as everything else about you?” 

“A strong accusation,” I replied mildly. “And certainly not the best way to begin an alliance.”

Tyelin smiled. “You’re assuming I’m here for that.”

I shrugged. “Why else would you be here?”

“Curiosity perhaps?” he asked, drumming his fingers against the side of his face in pretended thought. “Or… maybe I’m simply here to kill you.”

I snorted. “All by your lonesome? And before you suggest you’re not, don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know for a fact that you are.” The lie rolled smoothly off my tongue. Saying no more, I kept my face impassive as I watched closely for my visitor’s reaction.

Tyelin laughed easily, showing no unease, confusion, or even any hint of hidden smugness. “You’re right,” he said ruefully. “Even if you are not what you pretend to be, I daresay, given how convincingly you’ve played at being a Power, you’re no easy foe.”

 I matched his smile with one of my own. “You’re right about the last bit, anyway.”

“You took a chance slaughtering all Cine’s people like that, though,” Tyelin said, and even though the words were lightly spoken, I didn’t fail to mark the hint of coldness in the Blade’s tone. “What makes you believe we’d let you get away with it?”

Here it was, then. The masked threat. The outrage—feigned or otherwise—of the big bad faction at the lone player who’d dared kill their players. It was as predictable as it was tiring. 

I folded my arms. “Nothing. I did what I had to, what your commander foolishly forced me to.”

“So, you’re blaming Cline?” Tyelin asked, the smile never leaving his face.

“I am,” I said, not backing down.

The Blade’s smile broadened. “Lucky for you then that Yara said much the same.” He paused. “She was most upset though, that you killed her. She believes that was uncalled for.”

I grunted. “I was making a point.” And buying time.

“A well-made one, too,” Tyelin said judiciously. “You made a strong impression on Yara and the others. They’re all convinced you are what you say.” 

I didn’t miss the implications behind his phrasing. The other Blades might be convinced—my visitor wasn’t.

Tyelin spread his arms. “Tell me one thing, though. I hate inconsistency. It smacks of laziness. What possessed you to choose the visage of a rank fifteen player?” He rolled his eyes. “Really, who is going to believe a player of that level capable of acquiring a Power Mark?”

Despite myself, I couldn’t stop my expression from freezing. I’d had no inkling that the Blade had analyzed me. That he had was obvious. Less obvious was how much he had seen. Had Tyelin pierced my deception? Had he seen beneath my false guise to my true identity?

 The Blade chuckled. “Didn’t think I could analyze you, did you, Jasiah?” he asked, driving the point home. He eyed me lazily. “Should I call you that? Or is there some other name you prefer?”

I smoothened my expression, hiding my unease. “Would you prefer to see my true face?” I asked with false sincerity—there was no way in hell I was going to reveal my actual appearance and name to this player.

But Tyelin evinced no interest in my suggestion. “Not necessary. You are a deception player, of course. And like with most of your kind it is almost always impossible to tell if the face you’re seeing is the real one.” He paused. “And besides, I need not know who you truly are for us to come to terms.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Then you are here to deal?”

“I am,” he replied succinctly.

I waited for him to go on but when he didn’t, I narrowed my eyes. “You mind if I ask why? You clearly don’t trust me—or my appearance.”

 “I don’t,” he replied bluntly. “But in my world, trust is scarce—I would even go so far to say non-existent. Its lack, however, does not preclude business from being conducted.”

“And what world is that?” 

“The underworld, of course,” he replied as if that much should’ve been obvious to me and perhaps it should have. I will have to remember to ask Adriel about it. 

“In the underworld, one never knows with whom one is striking a deal,” Tyelin continued, oblivious to my confusion. His eyes turned cold. “But believe me, we have ways of handling those who deal falsely.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said, ignoring the barely veiled threat in his words. “Let’s get down to business, then.”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” He stared hard at me, seeming to will the truth from me. “First, I need to know: are you truly a Power?”

“Yes,” I said and left it at that.

The Blade stared at me searchingly. Whatever he saw in my expression seemed to satisfy him, because he did not question me again. “Then I have a proposition for you.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“Lady Blythe wants to meet you. I’ll escort you to the sector’s safe zone. There, my lady will lay out the terms of your agreement and what she requires of—” 

“No,” I interjected.

Tyelin raised an inquiring eyebrow. “No?”

“No, I will not accompany you to this sector’s safe zone,” I said icily. “Doing that will put me at your Power’s mercy.” Even more than I already was.

To his credit, the Blade did not attempt to dispute my statement. “Then we have nothing further to discuss,” he said, turning around and walking away.

I let him go a few steps, then called out after his retreating figure. “I don’t buy it, you know.” 

Pausing, Tyelin turned around. “What’s that?”

“Your act,” I said, gesturing at him. “You would have not come all this way if your Power didn’t want something from me, envoy.” The last was a guess—an educated one—and, from the involuntary tic of Tyelin’s cheek, a correct one. 

“Who said anything about being an envoy?” he asked expressionlessly.

I smiled. “What, did you think you were the only one with analyze?”

Tyelin’s face remained blank, but I could see my response had struck another nerve. Clearly, he’d no more felt my inspection than I had his.

“You’re guessing,” he stated flatly. “Based on my Mark.”

“I’m not, Tyelin. Congratulations on your level by the way. Rank twenty-six is not something many achieve. It’s a dead giveaway, though. At that rank, you’re either a Sworn or an envoy, and given your cockiness…” I shrugged. “It’s easy to deduce which.”

After a palpable moment of silence, Tyelin laughed with what appeared genuine amusement. “I’m not the only arrogant one here,” he said. “Your Mark… Powerful Initiate, do not think I do not know what it means, nor how most earn it. Assuming the Mark is not a forgery, your true rank is likely no greater than mine.” He paused. “And perhaps even lower.”

I shrugged, neither confirming nor denying his assertions. “I guess you’ll have to remain wondering as to the truth,” I replied blandly and before he could respond, I added, “But enough of this posturing. Shall we get down to business?”

Marching back to me, the envoy sank down into the grass. “Let’s.”