Fortress Al-Mir

“Still no sign of the inquisitors?”

Vezta shot Arkk a glare. An actual, genuine glare. That was, perhaps, the first time he had ever seen her in any way upset with him.

He simply raised an eyebrow.

“No, Master. Rest assured that I will inform you the moment I detect any suspicious activity. You do not need to ask me every five steps.”

“Just making sure,” Arkk said.

Twenty-four hours inside Cliff and still no trap sprung. He was fairly confident that the letter from Hawkwood had been genuine now but that didn’t mean that the inquisitors would just sit back and watch them. With every step they took, he felt like suddenly turning around just to catch the inquisitors trying to sneak up on him. A useless gesture while Vezta was at his side. She had a crystal ball in her hand and eyes literally on the back of her head. There was no chance that he would notice something amiss before she did.

That didn’t make the sensation that they were being watched go away.

“Zullie, was there ever any progress on detecting when we’re being magically watched?”

“Was that something I was supposed to do?” Zullie half turned, meeting his eyes as they walked through the halls of the Cliff Magic Academy. “First I’m hearing of it. I’ve had all my efforts focused on the ritual lately. You don’t want me to reprioritize, do you?”

“No. No. Definitely not. I just…” Arkk drew in a breath and let it back out in a clipped sigh. “I think I need more magical researchers. Don’t suppose walking through here has jogged your memory of some other casters who have gotten into trouble with inquisitors in the past, has it?”

“Not particularly. And scrying is a rarity. I imagine most kings and the church have methods of scrying. Maybe old warlocks who have managed to inherit magical artifacts. Hardly anyone else. The Abbey of the Light maintains a monopoly on methods of detection and avoidance. I imagine that is precisely because they don’t want people hiding from their eyes.”

That was not the first time Arkk had heard that something he wanted to do was exclusively within the domain of the church. Avoiding mental magics came to mind. If the church didn’t want counter-scrying knowledge public so that they could scry, it did make him wonder if a similar issue had them blocking mental magics as well. One more reason to avoid the church… Though…

“I don’t suppose you know of any corrupt priests or abbesses who would know such things?”

“Aside from the healer we have on hand for accidents and injuries, the academy doesn’t have much interaction with any member of the church.”

“I wonder how hard it would be to find someone…”

“Corrupt individuals exist in every profession,” Zullie said, frowning. “It’s just a matter of having something to offer that they think is worth risking their position.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He didn’t know that he would find an opportunity to use that tidbit but he would have to keep an ear out for anyone the church wound up angry with. Maybe they would post bounties on former priests.

Dismissing the idea for the time being, he turned to Vezta and opened his mouth.

She glared. “No, Master, the inquisitors are not on our tail at this time.”

Arkk clamped his jaw shut, pursing his lips. “I was just going to ask what you thought about this place?” he said, waving his hands along the corridor.

They had been walking through the Cliff Academy for some time. Not wanting anyone to know of his interest in the place, Zullie had used a spell from Savren that made them look like whoever a viewer most expected to be in any given place. Which was a spell powerful enough that it was no wonder that the church had labeled mind magics as anathema.

Though, Zullie did say that it had some drawbacks. Any spellcaster would be able to tell, entirely passively, that a large amount of magic was being used in their vicinity. Trying to use it to slip into the garrison would likely have them arrested in moments. The academy, already inundated with magic from research and training, made it far more difficult to tell that something was amiss. Even if someone did notice the magic expenditure, it wouldn’t be thought of as anything out of the ordinary here.

After having passed through the populated areas of the academy, Zullie had dropped the spell. It worked by affecting nearby minds so anyone scrying on them would have already known, thus making the effort pointless this far into the academy.

They had made it to the back corridors. The same dusty halls that he and Zullie had used to escape from Agnete just before leaving Cliff the first time around. Now that he was looking at them again, he wasn’t quite so sure of his earlier assessment. Fortress Al-Mir had perfect walls, straight and smooth with fine tiles and the regular glowstone marking the path. Even before he took over, when it had been in a more dilapidated state, it still retained that regularity and ruggedness.

The back tunnels of Cliff Academy wound and wove, twisted and turned. The corridors weren’t all the same width or height. This particular path allowed five orcs to stand shoulder to shoulder. The hallway before, however, barely let him walk alongside Vezta and Zullie. One set of stairs up to a higher level had been narrow and steep, almost like climbing a ladder, while another set of stairs felt more like a gradual ramp. More of an incline than proper stairs.

Glowstones dotted the corridor now and again. Arkk wasn’t surprised to find them all dim and inert. Zullie had grabbed a few bright amber glowstones to light their way through the dim tunnels. The tunnels didn’t feel like they had been constructed through the magic of lesser servants. Rather, it looked like it had been dug out by men with picks. Or dwarves. Wasn’t that who was supposed to have created what was now used as the academy?

It just… didn’t feel like Fortress Al-Mir.

Maybe it shouldn’t. It wasn’t, after all. When Vezta had mentioned other fortresses with other [HEART] artifacts at their core, he had pictured identical clones of Fortress Al-Mir. Was that the case? The only other confirmed fortress he had seen was the one in Darkwood. And that one he hadn’t actually seen. He had been too preoccupied with the defense and, later, his injuries to even scry on it. Had it been a regular labyrinth of connected corridors or had it been a maze of tunnels more akin to an ant colony?

Vezta was looking around now. With her multitude of eyes, she could keep watch of the crystal ball at the same time. Arkk guessed that this human-like gesture was more for his sake than out of an actual need to look around. He appreciated it.

“There are elements that make me scoff and say that this couldn’t have ever been a proper fortress,” Vezta started, speaking slowly as if to gather her thoughts. “I would almost suggest that we turn around and cease wasting our time. But then I’ll spot something familiar. An arch in the ceiling, a tile on the floor, the shape of a doorway,” she said, nodding to an open doorway whose door must have long since fallen.

“So… it is a fortress? Or isn’t it?”

“The [HEART] of a fortress is a gift from the [PANTHEON]. However, which member of the [PANTHEON] primarily offered the gift can influence the appearance and function of the fortress. In a way, this place reminds me of Unknown, the Enigma. A maze of corridors turning in on each other, impossible to tell how far we’ve gone or how far we’ve come. Every landmark we spot is unique and yet has a familiarity that leads us to believe that we’ve passed this point before…”

“That… sounds dangerous,” Arkk said, looking around the corridor once again. Had they already been this way? The dusty hallways hadn’t been disturbed yet. They were leaving a trail of footprints in their wake, so they should be able to escape. But… “Zullie, didn’t you say that sometimes academics would wander back into these tunnels only to never be seen again?”

“Stories,” Zullie said. “Fictional stories. Probably.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Vezta said, continuing forward even as Arkk stopped. “Something wrong?”

“If these tunnels are designed to trap people, is it wise to continue?”

“If,” Vezta said. “I am not wholly convinced that these tunnels weren’t simply dug out by mortal hands. Or perhaps men discovered the tunnels and then dug into them, damaging the original layout or erected walls, changing the size and shape of the corridors. Even if this is a fortress owing favor to Unknown, the Enigma, it is quite clearly inactive and dormant. No actual magic will trap us. We can always follow our trail to escape.”

“We’re sure?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Vezta cocked her head, approached the closest wall, and raised a tendril that split off from her side. A gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth formed, looking much like the mouths of the lesser servants. She plunged it straight into the wall, easily consuming the brick and stone. Pulling back, she looked to Arkk.

“If this is a fortress, it is entirely inactive. Even more so than Fortress Al-Mir was when you first discovered it. Failing every other method of escape, I could dig a tunnel out. There is no danger of us becoming trapped in an enigmatic maze.”

That did offer some relief. There was another problem, unfortunately. “Next question: Are we wandering aimlessly or do you have a way of telling where the Heart might be?”

Vezta looked around again, this time with a deepening frown. “This place is inert. I cannot sense where the [HEART] might be, if there is one.”

“That’s a problem. According to Zullie, these caves encompass nearly the entire mountain. We could be wandering for weeks with no luck. And that’s assuming it is possible to find and not walled off.”

“My feet are already protesting,” Zullie grumbled, moving to lean up against the wall. “I’d rather not pick paths at random.”

“Any ideas?” Arkk asked, looking from the witch to the servant. Neither spoke up, leading to Arkk letting out a small groan. “It’s pitch dark. Scrying won’t work. After they’re finished securing our escape routes, if I order the lesser servants to zig-zag their way through in the hopes that they find something, is there a possibility that they might damage the Heart?”

Vezta chuckled, which was more than enough of an answer. She still added, “Not likely. Though they may cause collapses and other problems elsewhere in the mountain.”

Arkk clicked his tongue. Although Vezta prefaced her statements with ifs, Arkk was a little more confident that this was a fortress, even if it wasn’t like his own. Unfortunately, he was significantly less confident that they would be able to utilize it in an appreciable amount of time.

“Slave Natum,” he intoned, springing forth six fresh lesser servants. The pulsing masses of oily flesh, bulbous eyes, and gaping maws stared up at him, patiently awaiting his commands. He didn’t need to use words to command them but, for the benefit of Vezta and Zullie, he said, “Split up and wander the corridors. Alert me if you find anything. Do not get seen by anyone. If you find a populated area, turn back and try other routes. If you are at risk of discovery…” Arkk pressed his lips together. Vezta had assured him that they could barely think but it still left a sour taste in his mouth when they died. “Self-terminate.”

In an eerie unison, the lesser servants turned away, moving down the corridor. As they passed by doors on the sides of the hall, one or two would split off. In short order, he was alone with Vezta and Zullie once again.

“I don’t expect them to find anything soon,” Arkk said. “But maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“We’re leaving then?” Zullie asked, sounding excited.

“Yes. But keep this in the back of your minds. If you have any ideas on how to find the Heart, assuming there is one. Lower priority than the ritual but it is important to our long-term goals.”

Unfortunately, unless the lesser servants came up with something soon, it didn’t look like they would be able to use this as territory to teleport to if things went poorly in the city. They might be able to escape to it but they would have to go on foot.

Better to use the other lesser servants who were already burrowing tunnels underneath the city.

Dakka swirled a fine glass of ruby-red wine. Going in for a drink, she carefully watched her opponents over the top of its rim. Her eyes shifted from one human to the next. Then the one after. They were harder to read than the undisciplined scum around the Primrose. A result of the training they underwent with their respective mercenary companies, undoubtedly.

Even still, she could see it in their eyes.

Here was the big, dumb orc with loaded pockets, here to play games at the human table.

Wishing that the wine glass was a proper flagon just so that she could set it down with a little more force, Dakka picked up a gold coin and tossed it into the pile at the center of the table.

Her opponents balked. They didn’t do anything so overt as to grimace or groan. The way their fingers moved over their cards and coins told enough.

One bore the white shield with a single black chevron, upward facing, on the breast of his white suit. White Company. Their allies, at least for the moment, though she doubted he would have any qualms over cleaning her out. He bet risky but had the luck to prop himself up. No sign of cheating that she had been able to spot. The gold piece seemed a bit too much for him despite the pot being worth almost five before Dakka’s addition. After thinking for a moment, he folded.

The woman across from Dakka wore a metal brooch pinning a heavy black cloak over her shoulders. The brooch was shaped like an upward-thrusting claymore, surrounded by the wings of a bird… which made it look more like a trident than a proper sword. Dakka didn’t know much about the Order of the Claymores other than that a small contingent of them had been dispatched to Darkwood Burg in search of Gretchen, Viscount Wesley’s daughter. They had helped with the defense later on… which meant that this person, whether or not she had been present herself, likely knew of Vezta and possibly even the teleportation circles that Arkk wanted to keep quiet.

Dakka wasn’t sure what to do with that information. That was something for Arkk to think about. All Dakka knew was that this woman had lost more than anyone else at the table. Dakka still gave her a respectful nod when the woman slid over twin stacks of silver coins.

The last at the table might not have been human. He wore a solid black robe-like suit, complete with gloves, a high neck, and a wide-brimmed hat. Only his head was visible and yet, Dakka couldn’t see a single hair poking out under his hat or on his face. Nor any evidence that hair had ever grown. To make matters a little more suspicious, he wore black lenses with leather shields blocking any peripheral vision. The glass was so dark that Dakka wondered how he could even see his cards.

Maybe some kind of lizard beastman. Whatever he was, he tossed in a gold piece of his own, turning a toothless smile back to Dakka.

“Company Al-Mir, is it?” he said, speaking a little strangely as he kept his lips firmly over his teeth. An odd move that only reinforced Dakka’s suspicion. “Quite the stellar rise to prominence.”

Dakka tapped her knuckles against the table twice before looking up to meet his gaze. Even with the glasses, she could tell that he wasn’t looking at her but at the emblem she wore on her chest. The compass rose backed with an intricate maze. “Boss-man is ambitious,” she said with a shrug.

“Makes quite the use of non-humans. Elves and orcs. Gorgon too, if rumors hold.”

“They are,” Dakka said, watching the table as one final card joined the other four. “Looking for a job?” she asked as she tossed in another ten silvers.

With the man from White Company out already, that left the woman from the Order of the Claymores to hum and haw over whether or not to add to the pot. Although her face was perfectly expressionless, the length of her hesitation spoke volumes.

“I might be. What kind of long-term goals and aspirations does Company Al-Mir hold? What kind of benefits do you offer? Does the leader use you as fodder or does he care?”

“Last question first: I’d say he cares a bit too much.”

“How so?” The question didn’t come from the glasses-wearing possible non-human but from the soldier from White Company.

Dakka glanced over just as a clink of coins joined the pot. After the Claymore tossed her coins in, the non-human instantly threw in a full gold coin. From his earlier betting, Dakka hadn’t expected such a confident display. Her eyes drifted to the last card flipped, trying to figure out how likely it was that he had a better hand than she did.

“He does foolish things on occasion,” she said, using the question to buy her a moment to think. “Shoves an orc out of the way of an attack and takes the hit himself despite our armor and tougher hide. Goes in by himself if he thinks the situation is too dangerous. We’ve taken on several dangerous tasks and only just lost one—to his own idiocy, I might mention. No one else took more than a few nicks and cuts. I think Arkk took it a bit hard. The rest of us…” she shrugged, tossing in twenty silver to match her bet with the man in the hat.

“You didn’t care?” the White Company man asked with a frown.

“Me specifically?” Dakka scoffed. “Rolling his body into a ditch would have been more than he deserved. But he and I had a bit of history. Arkk gave him a full cultural burial.”

“I see,” the hatted man said, watching as the Claymore cautiously matched their bets. “Are conflicts among the rank-and-file common?”

“Get any group of people together and there are going to be some who can’t stand others. That said, we don’t fight much. Outside the pit, of course. Arkk made it clear that he wouldn’t stand for any real fighting early on.”

The hatted man hummed and, nodding to himself, threw in another gold coin. “Benefits?”

“Lodging, food, and equipment are all provided and he knows some healing spell to keep us from suffering from most injuries.” Dakka paused and then grinned. She pulled out a pair of gold coins. “Pay is good enough to keep up with you as well,” she said, tossing them into the pot.

White Company’s soldier laughed at the display. The Claymore, on the other hand, dropped her expressionless act in favor of a heavy scowl. The stack of coins in front of her wasn’t anywhere near enough to match and she knew it.

“He hire humans too?” she asked, slamming her cards against the table. Dakka would have accepted her putting everything into the pot even if she couldn’t match but it seemed like the woman wasn’t interested.

Probably for the best.

“Claymores don’t pay well?” Dakka asked with a grin.

“Apparently not,” she huffed.

“Well,” the hatted man said, looking from the large pot to Dakka. “And goals for the organization?”

“Help some people out. Make money while doing it.”

With a drawn-out hum, the man placed his cards against the table. “I’ll have to consider my options,” he said, standing. Touching his gloved hand to the brim of his hat, he turned and stalked away from the table. Dakka turned in her seat, watching him head over to the entrance to the stayover. A second after he left, Arkk and his entourage entered.

“Something I said?” Dakka asked with a frown, earning nothing but shrugs from the other two at the table.

“Never seen him before.”

“Same.”

“Huh.” Shrugging, Dakka started dragging the large pot of coins over to herself. The Claymore reached out for Dakka’s cards, only to freeze as a heavy hand clamped around her wrist.

“Not even going to show your cards?”

“Then you’ll know if I was bluffing or not,” Dakka said, all smiles as she squared her cards into the deck before anyone could see them. With a wink, she tossed out a gold coin to each of the mercenaries and scraped the rest into her already-loaded pouch. “Get a few drinks on me instead. And that is the boss-man,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder as Arkk passed. “If that was genuine interest in swapping companies, I’m sure he would be happy to hear you out.”

The Claymore looked a little uncomfortable at the comment, though she was happy to keep the offered gold. Her eyes followed Arkk for a long minute until he disappeared up the stairs.

“I’m going to talk to him for a bit. Assuming he has no tasks for me, I’ll be back later, offering anyone a chance to earn some of this back,” she said patting the pouch.

Heading up the stairs after Arkk, she had to wonder what their reactions would be if they knew just how much she had been bluffing. Both about her cards and about the goals of Company Al-Mir. Claiming to want to overthrow a kingdom would be more believable than reverting the Calamity.