An Age of Mysterious Memories

B 2 C 37: The Jig Is Up

After calming down, crying for a while in the arms of my inner circle, or tail in the case of Lil, I gather my thoughts. We know that there’s some kind of critterfolk friends somewhere in the city. They aren’t above assassinating to free pigkin. Those pigkin were probably going to be slaughtered for loot like meat, and then if they were unlucky, they’d have turned into eggs and reincarnated for it to happen again and again.

I don’t know if we’ll be able to find the assassins, let alone in time before the militia marches. It’s more important to find out exactly when that is happening, and if there’s any way to convince anyone in charge to possibly change their mind.

I think I’m going to have to join the army. Not only that, but I’m going to have to show off some of my magic. Just enough to show I’m more powerful than any of theirs. Fliers around the town advertise essentially a trial by combat registration process, so at least it shouldn’t be too hard to get into the military.

I’d rather not be the target of one of the assassinations for having supposed critterfolk pets. I make sure everyone has writing implements and paper in their inventories, as well as notes signed by me as Billie, saying that I’m a friend of critterfolk, and that I’m only joining the military for information. I don’t know if the assassins are critterfolk, or humans, and whether or not they can communicate with the kind that they’re not.

We rest up for the night as well as we can with the weight of what’s on our minds. We don’t even dare spend time in thinkspace so we don’t risk getting distracted from the task at hand. We also need to stay alert, so for the first time ever, we sleep in shifts. It’s as horrid and lonely to be the one left awake as one would expect.

By morning, I think we’re feeling less rested than when we went to sleep, due to each of us having to spend a shift alone. So we’re codependent, so what. We literally have immortal bonds. We definitely get more than a fair share of looks and jeers as we leave The Salty Wench. I’m sure they think I’m, ugh, I can’t even finish the thoughts of what I assume are their thoughts of us.

Asking around about whether there’s an age requirement for joining the military, it appears there is none. At least that’s a stroke of luck, I won’t have to try to maintain a different form. My apparent age won’t hamper my ludicrous plan. All I really need is an audience with someone in charge, but they need a reason to be willing to give me that audience before I spill the beans on my desires. If I somehow gained an audience without having any authority behind my words, there would be no point, no way I could convince the army not to march through my family.

Asking around also clues us in that they’re at war with some apparent elf colony far to the east, well, not that the elves know it yet. These people want the renewable resources located in the elven colonies. They’re gearing up to march in a few months, so I’ve got at least a couple of months to make an impression to be able to gain an audience.

One upsetting piece of information that I learn though is that they’ve had scouts scour the path between here and there already. The scouts supposedly reported back nothing significant. That means the military already knows my family exists, and doesn’t care one whit about them. My family will be marched over, and slaughtered without a second thought if I don’t do something.

I’m a little concerned about my maximum mana again. I’d made significant gains during our training sessions while marching, but now I have what I think are several pools of mana, instead of one large pool. The one that I can actively draw from is only around nine hundred max mana. I wonder if I subconsciously developed a kind of defense against energy theft. I did want to visit those punks some day to figure out why their society required stealing mana capacity.

It takes several weeks to get an exhibition date, they need enough recruits to be worth setting up an entire arena date for it, and then several more weeks to announce the debut matches. Apparently we’ll also be entertainment that draws in funds for the military.

I can’t risk communicating with any of the otterfolk that are kept as pets during my entire stay.

My military recruiter’s name is going to be Reginald. I’ll be given three exhibition matches, the better I perform, the higher my starting rank in the military. I’m also allowed to make requests for the matches, but I’m nervous on how much exactly to show off. Even my hundred mana spells are at minimum half a dozen times deadlier than any I’ve seen casted here, likely far more than that.

Would being virtually immune to fire, and showing that off, be a good thing? I could easily stand in their hottest flames without any equipment. I’m met with a bit of derision as I appear to be some rich snot just trying out for fun, with my coterie as they call my inner circle, my SAP. My Shellcracker Adventuring Party is not allowed to try out, obviously, the humans here don’t think critterfolk can talk or understand humans.

Still, I know that I can’t leave my party anywhere in town alone for two months, they might be kidnapped. That would mostly be disastrous for the kidnappers, but also blow our cover. Plus none of us want to be apart from one another for that long, so I look like a rich brat with attendants trying to join the military for kicks. That’s fine, it’s better than the alternative.

My first request will be that they send every single fire mage that they have on hand who attends exhibitions to be my first opponent. Reginald thinks I’m crazy. Still, he relents when I sign a waiver that says my ‘parents’ won’t pursue damages for whatever happens during my matches. I have to be careful, if anyone asks me to identify my parents, I don’t have a cover story for that. My second request is that my second exhibition be against all the ice mages they can muster as well. For my third request, I ask that if I’m sufficiently impressive enough, to be granted an audience with whoever is in charge as soon as possible. For the third match, I just say to surprise me once they see what I can do.

I notice that the human militia mages seem to have to call out names for their spells, so I’ll play along and call out mine as well during my matches. There’s a young woman and a brother trying out ahead of me. As for the sister, she’s fairly impressive, definitely the top of her class, and probably the best that this entire human community can muster. The brother is similarly impressive, albeit a skosh less. For some reason, they only each have two matches. I’m not sure if that’s because they’re so impressive, or some other reason entirely.

There doesn’t appear to be too much sexism about it, but the examiners definitely assumed Harry would be stronger than Sally. I don’t know their actual names, but they sounded like they vaguely started with Har, and Sal. The rest of their names are somewhat unpronounceable to me anyway. That’s all I hear them refer to each other as. They actually seem oddly familiar somehow. Their movements are quick, lithe, succinct, without excess.

They couldn’t be? Could they? Nah, the friends of the critterfolk, those assassins didn’t use any visible magic, just slit some throats. Well, that’s not proof of a negative either, since Sal also didn’t appear to use magic, but I’m certain she was using wind magic. I’ll have to keep an eye out for them. I hope I don’t get on their bad side, one way or another.

Sal approaches me as her match ends. I gulp as she asks, “So, you’re Billie right? I hear you’re spending your nights with your coterie at The Salty Wench? Pretty brazen for someone as young as you, even with how much money you come from. I also hear you’ve got a death wish, and are probably going to die in your first match. I’d be honored if you’d leave your coterie to me in your will.”

Frantically I look to Teuila and Luni who shrug. I know they can safely escape from even this powerful mage’s possession if they need to, and I don’t want to blow my cover, so I try to laugh it off. “Hah, yes, you know what? Of course, absolutely, you have my solemn word that if I die in my exhibition matches, I would like you to take charge of my coterie. Give them a good life, would you? They are after all, this lonely child’s only friends.”

Sal actually blinks a bit, taken aback, before she sneers at me. She offers a hand, ordering, “Bettie said you’d say that last bit. Shake on it and it’s a deal.”

As I clasp her arm at the wrist, I can tell there’s definitely a dagger beneath her glove and bracer. My eyes flash wide and for a moment I imagine she’s going to kill me on the spot. Sal leans close and whispers something, but I don’t hear it in my panic. Ugh. That was probably an important bit of information.

I stutter, asking, “Come, come again?” But Sal walks off rather than repeating anything. Crap!

Har just walks past me on the way out, somehow waggling his eyebrows salaciously, while also scowling. Ugh, I’m not sure which is worse, if they want me dead, or if they think I’m, ugh. Wait, she said Bettie spoke about me. Crap crap crap crap. Did I slip up with Bettie? Or did I play my part too well? Either way it’s bad news. If they’re like all the other humans here, them thinking I’m friends with critterfolk could be dangerous for Lil, Lu, and Te. If they’re the assassins, and I played my part too well, they might try to take me out to save Lil, Lu, and Te.

Reginald calls out, “Billie, no surname given, Match one, opponents, the entire fire squad from the fifth platoon. Match rules as always are until a side yields in submission, or inability to continue, no intentional death will be excused. In this case, I assume accidental death is inevitable. Take your places.”

I make sure my SAP has a seat safely away from any humans where they can still watch the match. When I’m sure they’re fine, I literally sit in the very center of the arena, in lotus position.

Several of the fifth fire platoon begin to laugh, and I hear several calls of “you can’t be serious.” Reginald replies, “Deadly.”

When the match finally begins, after everyone stops snickering, the first fire attack I simply block by saying “FFS” as I put up a pinpoint frozen frost shield. This causes a few murmurs. I interlace my fingers and steeple my thumbs.

I call out, “Please, continue, more than one at a time please, or it’s the same as only fighting one of you.”

This has the desired effect, the one whose attack I blocked yells something like “Beginner’s Luck.” That individual begins slinging several of their spells. I know they can only manage about nine or ten spells before they’re spent, so I don’t bother showing off everything just yet.

I simply call out, “FFS” repeatedly. My party knows it means Frozen Frost Shield, but the humans don’t. They simply see tiny ice manifestations as I superchill the wind in micro locations where a firebolt will land. It doesn’t matter where they’re coming from, I don’t even have my danger wraps equipped. At this point I can sense thermal fluctuations around me with unerring accuracy. If a firebolt is aimed at the back of my head, I’ll have a pinpoint FFS barrier there, if it’s aimed at my crotch, I’ll have one there, right shoulder, left shoulder, knees, it doesn’t matter.

If these humans know the same curses I do it’s probably freakin’ hilarious to hear a child be casually dismissive in a battle by yelling FFS repeatedly. Not to mention seeing them actually block the attacks with such an acronym. At this point, all twenty soldiers begin to rain down firebolts. Now that I have their attention, I wait until they’re about half spent, and I stop using my FFS, simply letting their attacks land.

My clothes are blown to tatters, but I’m left barely singed due to my ridiculous thermal resistance training with Lil. The squad halts their attacks for a moment when they realize I stopped defending myself, but when I gleefully shout, “Please, don’t mind me, continue if you will!” that’s when they lose it.

As they all rain down their second to last, or last spells, I move my hands from their position on my lap. I leave my fingers still intertwined while I press my palms outward, then call out, “FFS, Flash Freeze Storm!” and coat the entire arena in a layer of frost, encasing the entire squad in ice. Thankfully their prepared final spells thaw themselves out quickly enough, but they stand around shivering, clasping their own elbows. I fashion a bit of a loincloth out of ice, so that I don’t give away a certain difference I’ve noticed between myself and some drunk humans who were pissing in corners. Like I said before, I don’t have the equipment for that kind of relationship.

I call out, “Would you mind if I had a change of clothes before my second match?” No one answers, so I walk to the side of the arena where Lu, Lil, and Te are sitting, and I telepathically ask Lu to toss me a change of clothes from her bag. She tosses me some breeches and one of the heavier wool looking tunics from Bettie’s shop. I pretend to appreciate the added warmth as I equip my danger wrap on my left arm under the tunic.

Reginald calls out, “Exhibition match one, Billie, no surname given has… passed the match, the fire squad is unable to continue. Ice squadron of fifth platoon, Billie, please take your places for the second match, same rules apply.”

This match is slightly more dangerous, because the ice spells are actually solid objects that could pierce my skin. I’m not sure quite what I was thinking in asking for this one. Still, between my tattoo and danger wraps, I might possibly be able to handle this. I don’t think I’ve ever had to defend myself from twenty angles simultaneously though. Lil thought up a funny acronym for my tattoo tendrils. Tattoo Tendrils Fend Now. TTFN is what I’ll be calling out as I work through this match.

The ice squadron doesn’t waste time in beginning their barrage, after they’ve seen me do something that shows up their entire squadron already. Just as I was thinking I would, I call out, “TTFN!” repeatedly as my tattoo tendrils slap icicles out of the air as they’re launched in my direction.

Ah, yeah, twenty directions at once is a bit too much. I’ve got cuts on my cheek, holes in my breeches, and a gash on my left foot already from one time when I slipped on my arse. I’d better start actually fighting back. As I do essentially a breakdancing move, I twist into essentially a whirling top on my head before launching myself up to land back down on my feet. As I land, I bring my fist down, yelling, “SEE yah!” Steam Explosion Extension, yeah. My fist contains enough flame to superheat, boil off, and then explode the moisture that had coalesced from my earlier flash freeze storm. I use an FFS to direct the force of the explosion towards one quarter of the arena. The blast knocks five ice squadron members off their feet into the air. Some land on their arses while others end up knocked into the audience.

I try to get a bit flashy with a roundhouse kick containing an arch of fire large enough to hit another five in the next clockwise corner, but they’re quick enough to use their ice magics defensively, throwing up thin walls of ice that barely block the attack. That’s two hundred of my energy down, I have to be careful, I have limits similar to theirs as far as quantity goes right now. With the fire I could sit and actually regenerate while being attacked, it wasn’t even an issue.

I also don’t know what the third match will be. I’d better use my FBF style to tag a few of these guys with SIPs that cost zero energy. Dashing in a circle around the arena, I earn some reprieve from a few of the ice mages due to putting their allies in a path between me and them. Now I can punch, kick, and crash through their ice wall defenses. I’m still not a graceful creature, so I do end up slipping on my arse once, sliding under several ice mages. On the way through their legs I take advantage of my position to fight a little dirty. They crumple to the ground and I feel a bit bad for them. I feel a little evil for taking advantage of a weakness I don’t share with humans.

In a matter of moments, I’m left with three of the strongest ice mages left who had been taking their time by launching fewer attacks while sussing me out. The three of them do something I’ve never seen done before, and they begin channeling their mana together to coalesce a single massive bolt of ice. If I dodge this thing, they’re going to kill their allies behind me. Are they stupid? I can’t use my JT even if I wanted to to dodge, as that would give away my inventory magic, or at least signify something was up. My best bet is to thrust myself into the fray and take them all out before they finish launching their spell.

As I zigzag towards the trio, one of the mages I thought was down for the count unleashes an ice bolt at my backside, and skims my right calf, causing me to stumble. With the loss of momentum, I won’t get to the trio in time before they launch their spell. Thinking quickly, I lean completely horizontal, letting myself drop parallel to the ground. I spend another hundred energy to produce a pair of jets of flame from my palms, using them as rocket thrusters aimed behind me as I slide along the icy ground.

Once I’ve made it to the trio, I simply sweep all of their legs at once, and give each a swift jab to the head on their way down, knocking them out. The spell still goes off however.

Reginald calls out, “Somebody stop that runaway spell!” The gathered audience gasps, it seems no one present has the power to stop a triple infused spell. Sighing, I launch myself to intercept it. The only angle I can get is one where it’ll impact my right ribs.

These poor ribs, how many times am I going to re-break them? I don’t want to be perforated by the spear that’s about as large as a hippopotamus, so as it’s contacting my skin, I ignite another hundred energy fire spell from the point of contact outward. This causes a massive steam explosion, which cracks my ribs and sends me flying into the ice squadron members whose lives I just saved.

I mutter, “Ugh, idiots.” As I cough, I realize I’m coughing blood again. Crap and a half, how many times are my lungs going to get punctured? This isn’t survivable in the world in my memories.

I stand up and hustle to the center of the arena to take my lotus position, hoping to regenerate my mana before the third match. I don’t know what Reginald has in store. I can see him scratching his bearded chin and rubbing the stubble along his jawline in contemplation. I try to make a happy and polite facial expression. I give a slight smile and a nod. Reginald returns the nod, but looks a bit disturbed nonetheless.

Reginald calls out, “Second exhibition match, Billie no surname is decidedly the victor. An impressive showing. For the third match, will Sal and Har please return to the arena, secondly, acid specialist Jazharn, toxin specialist Adom, and thunder specialist Sofu please take your positions.”

I’m beginning to wonder why I used a pseudonym, since none of the humans can hear my family say my name. None of them will have ever heard of Reggie Shellcracker. I guess it would have come across weird to this Reginald if I said my name was Reggie without a last name. He’d probably think I was poking fun at him, and maybe have me arrested or something. Wait, did he just say I’m facing off against Sal, Har, and three specialists in elements I don’t know? I have terrible acid resist and toxin resist! Thunder I figure will fall under blunt tolerance, but this is bad. Sal and Har didn’t seem to use magic, but I think that’s because it was wind or something. They could fairly skim along the ground with their movements, and when they threw punches, the punches would connect before their fists.

I’m in trouble, why did I ask him to surprise me!? I glance towards my SAP and they shrug with scared looks on their faces. Lil approximates a shrug without shoulders.

Okay, let’s quickly puzzle this through in thinkspace. Acid and poison specialists Jazharn and Adom I absolutely need to take out as soon as they begin conjuring their first spells. I might be able to operate with some slight wounds from Jazharn, but I don’t know what kind of toxin Adom has. If it’s contact, inhalation, or penetrative. Plus, whether it’s neurotoxin, necrotizing toxin, or some other magic brand of toxin that I don’t have a name for. If it’s neurotoxin or necrotizing toxin that travels through my bloodstream, I might be able to claim it, along with some of my blood. If it’s a gas, I could maybe hold my breath for the entire fight. Would it give me away if I use spells without shouting, if I’m in a cloud of gas? I’ll have to risk it, first thing’s first, full breath for my lungs. Secondly, a non physical attack for Jazharn so that she can’t block it with acid. Next, a flash freeze storm to buy myself some time as I see how things play out. Okay, let’s do this.

Reginald begins to announce for the match to begin, but I can tell something’s already wrong as I begin to take a deep inhalation. Adom already casted a cloud of poison just around my face while I was distracted by thought. Good news, I don’t need to call out my attacks, bad news, I’m already lightheaded and my vision is going haywire. It feels like my eyes are being eaten. It’s excruciating. I expel as much of the toxic air from my lungs as I can afford to without passing out, but Adom conjures a massive cloud of poison covering about eighty percent of the arena, forcing everyone else to not engage me in close range. Thankfully I was right about Sal and Har, their abilities are wind magics, and as they dash towards me, they push the poison out of the way. I easily slip past them during their dash.

I swear on the way past that Sal mouths the words, “Nice dodge Reggie.” That can’t be right. That just can’t be right, can it? No one here has ever heard my name, no one can talk to critterfolk. They don’t seem to have access to analysis skills or stats pages or menus at all.

Taking advantage of the brief reprieve from the cloud of poison, I take a deep breath and try to claim as much of the toxin out of my lungs eyes and nose as possible. It’s a gutwrenching experience that leaves me bleeding from the eyes and nostrils to claim the toxified parts of myself. I really hoped I’d never have to do that again.

Crap, Jazharn’s going to hit Sal and Har if I don’t do something. I was going to do an FFS to buy myself time, but then they’d be trapped in the path of the acid bolt.

Steam explosion it is instead then. This might incinerate all of us with the cloud of poison gas here. I unleash as much moisture as I can from my inventory without being conspicuous, then superheat it. As I hoped, but also slightly feared, this also burns off the toxin in the atmosphere. Just as Hal and Sar are being ignited by the draft of flames, my steam explosion knocks them on their faces from behind, extinguishing them. It also knocks down everyone else currently participating.

Now that I’ve bought myself a second I yell, “FFS, Flash Freeze Storm!” I don’t even wait for the entire coat of ice to cover everyone as I’m dashing for Jazharn and Adom, thankfully they’re near one another. Careful not to shatter them, I pummel them as I thaw their heads.

I didn’t really have a plan for Sofu, actually, where’d Sofu go? They’re not frozen on the ground. Crap Reggie look up! Of course Sofu saw me freeze in the last two matches, so didn’t stay groundridden. If I dodge this, these two are going to be shattered and die, how ruthless are these idiotic humans? Sofu is aiming a massive thunder wave down towards me where I stand over the recently-pummeled, still-frozen pair of assailants.

Diving into accelerated thinkspace, I try to figure out what to do. Uh, um, what the hell contrasts thunder? It’s noise, if I wasn’t scared of using my inventory magic, I’d pull out my own thunderstick and see if the stick could absorb it. Alright, no need to panic. Sound waves are still waves, I have this last fraction of a second to reverse or neutralize the waves. Nope, not enough time to come up with a plan to save these two. Best I can do is throw up a massive ice wall with some quick FFS uses and take the rest of the attack myself. Well, that’s my best bet if I don’t want to give away my inventory magic. It has to remain my ace in the hole in case we get arrested or captured, so I’ll have to use this plan.

Tossing up the quickest and thickest ice walls that I can, they shatter and are basically atomized by a relentless wave of sound. My eyes and nostrils are bleeding from Adom’s toxin, but now I’m pretty sure my eardrums just exploded and are bleeding out my ears. Oh that throws my balance off so bad, hurk. I’m gonna horf. Oh, sorry Adom, didn’t see you there. Loosing up my sick all over Adom is probably unsportspersonlike, but it wasn’t intentional.

Okay, so, Sofu needs to be brought down. They’re literally flying with some kind of thunder magic. Fine, tendrils it is. I launch myself skyward with the tendrils, snag Sofu with all three and wind up for a spiked piledriver as I plummet with Sofu towards the ground.

Holy crap I hope I didn’t kill this person. They look really messed up from that.

This leaves Sal and Har who are using wind to cut their way out of my FFS right now. Are they going to go bloodthirsty on me too? I’d better get to the other side of the arena so that no one else can get caught in a crossfire.

Sal and Har free themselves, take each other by one hand, and bow as they call out, “We yield.”

Huh? I probably look like a complete mess, and they could probably take me, since they’re a coordinated team who have subtle magic that I can’t predict.

I stammer, “Bu, but, wha? Huh?”

Seemingly in response, Sal winks at me, then Har follows suit. I shoot my thoughts telepathically to my team, and they have no words for me.

Reginald announces, “Ah, yes, a marvelous third match for our top three recruits of the day, one can not fault a submission in such extraordinary circumstances. Well done each of you, absolutely top marks for everyone. Could we get medics in here for Sofu and Adom please? Also Billie may need detoxifying herbs.”

As Reginald calls that out, I find my body purging itself violently. I projectile bleed from several orifices and vomit against a wall of the arena. I’m starting to lose consciousness as I hear someone yell “Seize them!” while pointing at my inner circle.

I nearly lose it and go on a murder spree, but I call out telepathically to play along when I realize I’m also being cuffed. I keep fighting to remain awake as my eyes droop and I pass out for moments at a time as I’m hauled away in cuffs.

Reginald looks bewildered and apologetic. Sal and Har look like they’re trying to hide the fact that they’re pissed about what’s happening. Are they on my side? Or at least on Lil’s Lu’s and Te’s sides. Maybe they are those assassins. I’m going to have to risk it. I use my inventory magic to apparate one of my notes that says “Don’t rescue, need answers, friend of critterfolk, Billie.” I summon it basically in Sal’s chestplate since I can summon at range. Hopefully the sudden velum in such a sensitive place will register and she’ll know to look at it soon.

Sal clutches her chest with one hand, so I think she noticed. I nod at her as she squints in my direction. I black out again for a few moments and I’m somewhere outside of the arena, heading towards what is likely the prison complex of the town.