Chapter 70 - Spymaster (Patreon)

Abby trekked through the city, climbing the main ramp and barely noticing her surroundings. Once upon a time, before she’d begun to see the seedier side of Beacon, she’d been awestruck by the magical city, but the more details she’d discovered about her new home, the less impressed she’d become. As one of the few truly safe places in their new world, Beacon was a melting pot of humanity. All sorts of people made it their home. Good, bad, and everything in between – and it was afflicted by all the issues that implied. However, as Zeke had discovered, the place was also incredibly imbalanced on the power front, with the higher-leveled elite often taking advantage of their lower-leveled brethren. It was disgusting.

But what was she supposed to do about it? She wasn’t Lady Constance. She couldn’t mold the world to her own satisfaction. When Abby had first arrived, and she’d seen the way some people were treated, she had railed ineffectually against the system that enabled such bullying. Over time, though, she’d come to realize that it did no good. Some people, when they attained power, would use it to push around their lessers, and without meaningful consequences, there was nothing to curtail such behavior.

Sure, there were laws. But how does one enforce laws on a man who can rip apart a jail cell with his bare hands? Or worse, a woman like Lady Constance, who could literally eradicate the entire city’s population in a single afternoon? It was a simple calculus that made the authorities look the other way. More lives would be in danger if they acted than if they let a few minor transgressions slide.

It was frustrating, though – especially when she saw low-leveled workers beaten half to death because they didn’t get out of some important person’s way quickly enough. Or worse, if an unscrupulous elite decided that a crafter was charging too much for her wares. She’d even heard of some elites who’d virtually enslaved talented artisans who couldn’t really defend themselves. But thankfully, that kind of thing was rare. After all, if there was one thing the powerful wanted, it was more power – and sometimes, potent equipment was the only way to get over that hump. Any elite who jeopardized that would soon find themselves the enemy of quite a few of their peers.

Mostly, though, the differences in power led to a clear line of demarcation between the elites and everyone else. And now that Abby had evolved her race, she was technically one of the former. It was only a matter of time and experience before she could take a place at the top of the heap. Maybe then she could push some changes through. After all, she knew precisely what it was like to be powerless, and it was a fate she wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Her fists clenched as memories of her old life – of her old identity – washed over her. Never again, she thought, and she meant it. She would die before she let anyone have that kind of power over her again.

Those thoughts occupied her mind as she climbed the seemingly endless ramp. Beacon was the size of a mountain – in fact, some historians claimed that it had been carved into one – so it took quite some time before she reached her destination. Abby was so distracted that she barely even noticed the delicate arches or the colorful outfits of the pedestrians. She’d seen it all before, and while it was impressive, she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate architectural art or fashion statements.

Finally, Abby found her way to the seventh and final gate. The monstrous construction loomed over her, all intricate columns, runes, and sculptures. In her old life, she and her husband, back before she knew what a monster he was, had spent their honeymoon in Paris. There, she’d been awed by the Arc de Triomphe – the sheer size of the thing overwhelming. All the gates in Beacon reminded her of that, though they were functional whereas the Arc de Triomphe was a monument to the soldiers who’d fallen during the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. The seventh gate, called The Temple Gate, would’ve dwarfed that monument, both in sheer size as well as artistry.

Seeing the runes, Abby couldn’t help but think of Zeke. On the surface, the man seemed a brute – especially in battle. But he was more than just a talented warrior with impressive stats. He was kind, selfless, and, in his own way, studious. His near constant examination of runes had already born some fruit in the man’s curious bond with Pudge as well as the exploding rocks he’d created. Doubtless, he could’ve spent hours just staring at the runes on the surface of The Temple Gate. He might have even understood them.

In front of the gate, there were a dozen guards, each sporting the white tabard bearing the stylized sunburst that marked their loyalty to the Temple. However, unlike the guards on the lower tiers, these men and women were evolved. They were impressive fighters, each and every one, though they weren’t the Temple’s true elite. That label was reserved for the Radiant Guard, each of which were over level twenty. Some, like the legendary paladin, Abdul Rumas, had been at the maximum level for decades.

Abby approached one of the guards, who barred her entry onto temple grounds. “State your business,” she said. Armed with a wicked polearm, a short sword at her hip, and a crossbow hanging from a strap across her chest, the woman looked like a walking armory.

Abby fished in her pocket and withdrew the coin. “I’m here to see Master Silas Martel,” she said, following Gemma’s instructions. The woman reached for the coin, but Abby pulled it away. That frustrated the guard, but Abby was undeterred. “Not supposed to give this to anybody but the big man himself. You can look, but you can’t touch. Those are my orders.”

She knew the implications of her words – that she was one of them. Not a guard, surely, but someone who worked for the temple. It wasn’t an outright lie – merely a guided assumption – but still, Abby’s heart skipped a beat. Having been the victim of plenty of deception, she hated lying. On top of that, she knew she was playing a dangerous game. If the guard found her out, she ran the risk of alienating the most powerful organization in her new world. And that was a best-case scenario. The Temple of the Sun Goddess wasn’t known for its cruelty, but it wasn’t the pinnacle of mercy, either.

She pushed thoughts of potential punishments to the back of her mind as she waited for the female guard to make a decision. Finally, the woman nodded, asking, “You know where you’re going, right?”

“Not really,” Abby admitted. “First time. Kind of nervous, honestly.”

All true.

The guard gave her a quick once over, her eyes lingering on the swell of Abby’s breasts, before saying, “If I wasn’t on duty, I’d be happy to provide an…ah…escort. Pity.”

Abby wanted to punch the woman in the face. Male or female, she’d long since grown tired of people looking at her like that. She just wanted to do what she came to The Temple to do, and be on her way.

“Say, you wouldn’t want to get a drink sometime, would you? I know this place down on the second level that –”

“What’s the hold up, Diane?” came a gruff voice. Abby looked over the guard’s shoulder to see a man in a slightly different tabard looming over them. The newcomer was huge, hairy, and built like a bear.

“Nothin’ captain,” the female guard stated. “Just giving her some directions. As I was saying…”

Abby suppressed a smile, but she gave the captain a slight nod as she listened to the woman’s directions. Her destination wasn’t that far, so it didn’t take the guard long to send her on her way. She crossed the expansive courtyard, which had been immaculately landscaped and bore dozens of marble sculptures of the sun goddess – depicted as a beautiful woman in flowing robes and holding the sun in her hands.

The grounds themselves were more akin to a college campus than a church, with multiple buildings and an abundance of topiary. Everywhere she looked, there were adherents of the faith, each of which wore the same white-and-gold tabards.

Soon, Abby found her way to the appropriate building and went inside, where she was confronted by the most ostentatious décor she’d ever experienced. It was clearly expensive, especially considering the prevalence of gold trim, but it felt like the decorator had chosen the display of wealth over taste – almost as if they were desperate to be seen as rich and powerful. It was almost sad, in a way. Or it would’ve been if it hadn’t been the seat of absolute power that it was.

Is it posturing if you can back it up? she wondered. Regardless, it was still tacky.

The spacious hallways led her to an open-air parade ground at the center of the building. The sand-covered space was a little longer than a football field, and at least half again as wide, with more statues of the sun goddess lining the edges.  In addition, there were troughs dotting the perimeter as well as a variety of weapon racks. The northernmost third of the training round was decorated with a couple dozen wooden training dummies.

It was late enough in the day that only a few trainees were present, but the ones that remained were truly impressive. She saw fireballs being thrown, incredibly fast warriors sparring against one another, and archers firing arrows at a pace even Abby couldn’t match. There were instructors, all of which wore a similar uniform of white and gold, woven through the trainees.

However, only one of them stood out from the rest, and she knew he was her target. Silas Martel looked like a wise, old master one would find at the top of a sacred mountain. Or that was Abby’s first thought, sullied as her memories were by watching too many old kung fu movies with her father.

Master Silas wasn’t just a character in a movie, though. He was the real deal, and if rumors were true, he was just as capable as Lady Constance herself. But where the de factor ruler of Beacon was primarily known for the violent outburst that had eradicated an entire forest, Silas was almost universally respected as a kind and fair man.

Dangerous, though.

Even standing still and wearing his flowing, white outfit, he gave the impression of barely contained motion. Abby suppressed a shudder, but she pushed forward, dodging between mock combatants as she found her way to the man himself.

“Yes?” he asked, not looking away from a pair of children who were making every effort at killing one another. Or that was how it seemed to Abby, at least.

Abby held up the coin she’d been given. “Gemma sent me,” she said.

The slightest twitch of a smile turned up one corner of the man’s mouth. “Is she finally speaking to me again, then?” he wondered aloud, his tone one of anticipation. “No – this is one of her ridiculous favors, isn’t it? She wants me to help you with something.”

“Something like that,” Abby admitted. “I need –”

The man’s raised his finger, cutting her off. “Not here,” he said. “Follow me.”

Without another word, Abby followed Silas across the training area to a hall on the opposite side of the sandy field. Not long after that, they found themselves in a truly spartan office. There were no decorations, save for a worn desk with a chair on either side. Silas took the one that looked considerably less comfortable than the other and gestured for Abby to take its opposite. She did.

Then, he said, “Tell me your story, and I will endeavor to guide you in the appropriate direction.”

“What? I just want to know –”

“You do not know what you want to know,” the man stated. “Trust me, child. I have been doing this for quite some time. Rest assured that I will not use this information against you. You have my word on that.”

Abby wasn’t so sure she could trust the man, even though his reputation suggested as much. “And if I choose not to tell you?” she asked.

“Then you may go,” he answered. “But I hope you do not. It has been quite a while since I have heard a good story, and I suspect that yours is better than most.”

“I doubt that,” Abby said, remembering that Gemma had called the man Beacon’s spy master. Surely, he knew things that would make her hair stand on end.

“You would be surprised how incredibly dull Beacon is,” he said. “So little changes. However, I sense that you have brushed against something truly different. Perhaps unique. Please, humor me.”

Abby wasn’t certain why, but she felt herself relax. Surely, she could trust someone like Silas, right? He only wanted to help her, didn’t he? If she couldn’t trust him, then who could she…

Wait. That wasn’t right. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. But it wasn’t until she heard a chuckle from across the desk that the spell seemed to have been broken. “W-what did you just do to me?” she asked, panting as her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, it was beating so hard.

“I apologize,” he said. “It truly is involuntary. Call it an aura, if you will. Worst skill choice I’ve ever made.”

“You…you have a skill that makes…that makes people trust you?” she asked.

“Indeed,” was his response. “Only works on the unevolved, though. With your level, I assumed you had not had the opportunity to do so. Seems I was wrong. In any case, I can’t turn it off, so you will have to forgive an old man his quirks.”

Quirks. A literal mind control aura, and he called it a quirk. Abby shook her head, still feeling a bit loopy.

“I know what you want to know,” he said. “If that helps you make your decision. I know all about the Crystal Spiders and why they have been kidnapping people.”

“W-what? You know?” she asked. “How?”

“Knowledge is my business,” he said, steepling his fingers. “I would not be much of a spymaster if I did not know what was happening so close to the city, would I?”

Abby sighed. “I suppose not,” she said. “I guess you’re willing to trade, huh? Secrets for secrets, right?”

He nodded. “Such a trade certainly seems appropriate,” the man said. “However, I only require a name from you. Tell me of the anomaly.”

“I don’t know –”

“You do know,” he said. “Speak his name, and I will tell you what I know of the Crystal Spiders and their nefarious plans.”

“What will you do to him?”

“Invite him for a chat,” the man stated. “I assure you, I have no evil intent. I would merely like to have a conversation with your companion.” He stroked his long, wispy beard. “Or is he your lover, perhaps?”

Abby nearly choked. “No,” she said. “He’s nothing like that…we’re just…I mean…”

“I apologize,” Silas said, holding up his hands in surrender. He gave a quick smile. “I forget how touchy that subject can be for the young. My offer stands. A name for the answers to your questions regarding the guild of assassins. However, I must warn you – choose quickly. The time I may devote to this is not infinite.”

Abby sighed and glanced around the room. There was nothing to see, but she needed a moment to think. It was entirely possible – likely, even – that Silas already knew the information he required. It wasn’t as if she and Zeke had been subtle when they’d come into the city. He’d been half-dead, and they’d been followed by a dire bear. On top of that, Zeke had broken the jaw of a guild elder, and that alone would’ve surely made some waves – especially because he was only level fourteen.

Still, it felt like a betrayal to give his name out to a stranger. It wasn’t.  She was almost positive that Zeke would’ve told her to go ahead. But even so…

“Zeke Blackwood,” she said. “His name is Zeke Blackwood.”

“Thank you,” Silas stated. “Now – I assume you would like to know why the Crystal Spiders were taking hostages north?”

Abby nodded, and the man began his explanation. All the while, she could only hope that Zeke would understand why she had done what she had done.