Vigil's Balance: Ten – Rules of the Game

The party continued to rage after the official announcement, but Cal, Renholm, and I didn’t much feel like hanging around with the inhuman assholes trying to murder us. So instead, we very politely said our goodbyes and got the fuck out of dodge before some Fae noble got drunk and tried to earn brownie points with Ionia by challenging me to a duel or trying to roofie my drink and harvest my organs. With our escort dead—and his head in Renholm’s stomach—we had to find our own way out of the Fae Wylds, which would’ve been damn near a death sentence if not for Melwyn’s help.

Turned out, she was almost as good a navigator as Elduin, which I figured would come in handy not too far down the road.

With her behind the wheel, we made it back to the Starlake Keep without running into anything nasty enough to write home about. Sure, there were a couple of critters that crossed our path, but they scurried away the second they caught wind of us. Time worked strange in the Fae Realm and the sky was stained with the steel gray fingers of early pre-dawn by the time we got back to the keep. Arturo had battened down the hatches and all the workers and servants were tucked away in their rooms while our Fae troops continued to stand watch against incursions.

Melwyn took a long look around the garden with a frown of disapproval on her beautiful face. She regarded the weeds and the winter barren patches of land as though they were sentient creatures that had dropped trou and taken a steaming dump right in front of her. The general disarray of my lawn seemed to offend her far more than getting roped into a deadly hunt and being threatened by a dark Fae Queen. She was a lady with a clear set of priorities.

Not priorities that made a single lick of sense to me, but priorities all the same.

“Well, this just won’t do, will it?” she said, as much for herself as for me. “But it can wait, I suppose.” She pursed her lips and let out a long sigh. “It’ll have to wait. There’re too many other things to do.”

I dropped Darksilver off at the stables and went through the familiar motions of tending to him—no point in rousing an old timer like Miko for something I was more than capable of doing myself. I fed my horse a few Jetru berries for being a good boy and slaying my enemies, loosened the cinch, removed his tack and armor, then looked him over for any sores. He was made of stern stuff and was tougher than old boot leather so I didn’t find any issues, but the process was still soothing for both of us.

After that, I rubbed him down, picked out his hooves just to be safe, then put him up for the night and headed in.

Cal and Renholm were both already upstairs in my office, introducing Arturo to Melwyn. I could tell at a glance that the Padre was both flustered by and smitten with the horned woman. It was hard not to be.

“So what exactly do you think it means?” Arturo was asking as I came into the room. He held the smooth stone Gobhoill had given Melwyn in one rough hand. He ran a thumb over the odd mark carved into its polished face.

“It’s a star map,” she said as though it should be self-evident. “They aren’t all that common among your people, but among ours aligning the stars is one of the easiest touchpoints for walking the Ether.” She bent over and lightly plucked the stone from Arturo’s hand. The priest gulped audibly and averted his eyes from the magnificent cleavage on full display. The grin on her face told me she knew exactly what she was doing.

She straightened and held the stone flat in her palm.

She channeled a thin trickle of Arcana into the stone and the rune lit up like a Christmas tree, projecting a series of glittering dots into the air above her.

“You see there? The Vermilion Vulture. And that’s the Northern Broom.” She squinted and stuck a finger out. “That cluster is the Merchant’s Wheel.”

“I was tutored by the finest minds of Brezneik,” Arturo replied rather stiffly. “Trained with the Templar’s of the Queen’s banner and learned untold magics from the magi of the Golden Chalice. I know what a star map is. My question is how will this help you and Boyd locate the target?”

“Same question,” I added, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. “They taught us how to navigate using star formations back in Land Nav, but that just generally helps with direction and orientation.”

“This isn’t like that,” she said, shaking her head, “though I understand your confusion. This is a location marker. Fae use their ability to move through the Etheric and Material to travel great distances by folding and shaping the land. This star pattern is a reflection of the sky over our destination. This alone is not enough to let us travel there, but with a few other markers it would let a decent Navigator find the location. Let’s see what you got, Sir Boyd.”

“Don’t call me sir, I work for a living. Just Boyd is fine,” I corrected her before taking out the stone Gobhoill had given me. Mine was a deep brown to her amber and had a different rune engraved into the face. I channeled a trickle of power into the stone just as she had. The rune flared to life, but nothing else happened that I could tell. I shot a quizzical look at Arturo who shrugged.

“Yeah, I got nothin’ here, buddy,” Cal replied, just as useful as ever.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I asked, cutting off the flow of power.

A small smile played at the edges of Melwyn’s lips. “For being a Vigil, you are such a human,” she said, though there was no malice in her tone. “The stone releases a scent, imperceptible to even your heightened senses. But to an experienced Navigator that unique smell is a story. My senses are dull compared to the beasts of the Wylds, but still, I can taste early spring. The cold breeze blowing off the high passes of a mountain. The sharp bite of a stream and the rot of leaves and turned earth. I taste chimney smoke—acrid and sharp—and the terrible reek of unwashed bodies. Of utter filth. Another location marker.”

“Is that enough for you to figure out where we need to be?” I asked, pocketing the stone.

She grimaced a shook her head. “Perhaps, if I had a keener sense of smell. As it is, I’ll need a third location point. In truth, we were lucky to get these two. Though the last hunt happened long years before I ever took my first breath, I read the old histories in preparation. Location markers are common, but there are also riddles, puzzles, even pictures. These two are straight forward, at least.”

Well shit, that wasn’t what I was hoping to hear. “Then it sounds like we need a gameplan,” I said dropping down into one of the leather chairs. “A gameplan and another stone. More information. With ten clues, Jeffery’s team is going to have the target pinned down in next to no time and I can guarantee they aren’t going to wait for the horn to sound before they start hunting.” I drummed my fingers on the armrest as I thought. “Hunt or be hunted—that’s the only rule, right?”

“There are certain other rules of etiquette surrounding the hunt,” Melwyn replied. “According to the lore, its generally considered bad form murder another champion outright. And only chosen Hunters are allowed to participate in the Kill. But those are guidelines more than ironclad rules and there is a lot of wiggle room—especially on that last point. Many Hunters utilize beasts and knights often have a dedicated squire that may assist to some degree.”

“Perfect. Cal, I dub you my squire, and Renholm for the time being you’re going to be my hunting dog. I need the two of you to do what you do best—”

“Steal stuff?” Renholm asked, sounding hopeful.

“Steal stuff,” I confirmed. “We need to get our hands on another stone. More if you can manage it. And it would probably be smart to keep tabs on at least one of the other champions. Worst case scenario, we can follow them to the location.”

“It’s a good plan,” Arturo said, “but how will you find the other champions? Surely, they’ll be expecting a gambit like this? If they’re smart, they’ll be bunkered down someplace safe until the hunt begins in earnest.”

“Yes, well, I may have anticipated that,” Renholm said. From a pouch at his belt, he pulled out a tiny lock, tied with a length of red silk.

“Is that hair?” I asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Taken from that cad, Jeffery,” the pookah confirmed.

Cal bent down and examined the hair. “Dude, this is braided. There’s no way you stole this tonight. How long have you had this?”

“My private affairs are none of your concern, you ignorant slut,” Renholm replied with a scowl. “The important point is that I can use this to track him, and wherever Jeffery is, there we will find the other Champions as well. The Queen and her stooges lead—they never follow. That was part of the reason we had our falling out in the first place.”

This was dangerous. A terrible plan. But it was also the best option we had at the moment.

“Do you think you can infiltrate and get us what we need?” I asked. “And don’t bullshit me here.”

“Well, I don’t think I can die unless you kick the bucket first,” Cal replied with a shrug, “so worst-case scenario, they catch us and turn Renholm into a meat smoothie. That isn’t ideal, but maybe if that happens, they’ll call off this stupid Hunt on a technicality and we can go back to hunting normal monsters. The ones that try to eviscerate you instead of trying to manipulate you into eviscerating yourself. Far as I’m concerned, this seems like a no-lose situation.”

“Way to stay positive,” I said, “though I really don’t want to come home and find Renholm bleeding out on my bed, missing another limb. Again.”

“That was one time,” Renholm said, rolling his eyes, “and I have complete and unwavering belief in my abilities. The spirit is a fool and a potential liability, but so long as he obeys my exact instructions, we will prevail. I have no doubt.”

Yeah, there was a good chance we were all going to die. But maybe not. Renholm was a slippery, conniving little shit, so maybe he and Cal really could pull it off. We said quick goodbyes, then the two departed through the upstairs window, quickly blinking out of existence as they crossed the threshold and entered the Etheric Realm.

“In the meantime,” I said, pulling the window closed and locking the iron hand latch in place, “we also need to beef up the security. Dollars to donuts we aren’t the only ones planning to play dirty. They probably have someone—or a bunch of someone’s—already headed here to firebomb the manor.”

“Why don’t you leave the security enhancements to me,” Melwyn said, instantly perking up. “I have some ideas about how we might improve your Keep’s exterior defenses and take care of that disgrace you call the garden all in one fell swoop. It will take an army to get through by the time I’m done.”

I knew shit all about this lady and entrusting her with our security measures seemed like a gamble, but she oozed confidence and we weren’t exactly spoiled for options. Was there a good chance she’d betray me later on? If I took Gobhoill’s words to heart, then it was almost a near-certainty. As long as I kept that fact in the back of my mind, I could work around it.

“Yeah, alright,” I agreed after a long beat. “Do what you gotta do—just remember that we have a variety of human servants and staff living here and I don’t want them harmed in any way.”

“It won’t a problem,” she said, before turning on a heel and heading toward the door. My brain seemed to momentarily short-circuit as I stopped to watch her walk away. I wasn’t the only one. Arturo’s eyes were locked on the woman as she swayed across the floor, her hips moving to some unheard melody. Her movements were downright hypnotic. She was good looking, but this was more than that. It was fae magic, fucking around with our heads.

Whatever my next build was, it was damn sure going to have Mind Vault.

“Be cautious of that one, Boyd,” Arturo said softly as the door finally slide shut behind Melwyn. He was hunched forward, forearms resting against the edge of the desk. “I know little about the Court of Petals, but I know plenty about the Fae and the sweetest, most delectable fruits of the Wylds are often the most poisonous as well.”

“I appreciate the heads up, but I already have a firm policy about not sleeping with potential suspects—especially not when I’m working a Bounty. The mission comes first. Always.”

“Still, best if you guard yourself. Her charm and wit might be even more dangerous than her curves.” He sat back and let out a deep breath. “Now, what do you need of me, eh? How can I be of service? I’m happy to stand on the line with you should you need my warstaff.”

“Sorry, Padre, but this is one battle you can’t help me with,” I said.

He seemed to stiffen at my words. “I’m no coward, Boyd. Just because I think you’re a fool for getting yourself into this mess, doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you in your hour of need. I owe you my life twice over and I’m more than willing to fight at your side. Let these Fae heathens try me and see what the wrath of a Steelborn Magi tastes like.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I replied, “but I’m not doing this to protect you. I’ve seen you in a battle—I know you can handle yourself. But these fae chucklefucks are looking for any excuse to come after me, and I don’t think they would take kindly to another agent of Rageul getting involved. Not unless you’re willing to become an active member of our court—”

“Which I would never do,” he said.

“Yeah, I figured. But that’s okay, because what I really need from you is in your head. I need you back to Ironmoor, Padre. You didn’t see what we’re up against. Regardless of what they call this, we’re at war and we aren’t going to win it alone.” I paused and looked over my shoulder, making sure we were alone. The room was empty other than the two of us, and thanks to the anti-scrying sigils, I knew our conversation was private. “I got a bounty from the big guy himself,” I said. “We don’t just need to win the Hunt—I need to figure out a way to bring down the Void Tree.”

The breath caught in Arturo’s throat and he let out a strangled croak.

“Raguel tasked you with killing a Chaos Titan? But that’s…”

“Impossible?” I finished for him.

He grimaced and ran a hand through his lank, greasy hair. “Aye, that’s probably the best word for it,” he said. “Though if you were going to die, I suppose there would be no greater honor than doing so to cleanse the universe of such a creature as that.”

“I’ve already died once, Padre, and I have no intentions of diving on another grenade if I can avoid it. I want to find a way to take out the Void Tree and live to see another day. For that to happen, I need to make allies and strip away some of Ionia’s key support. Ten champions to two are terrible odds. To do that, I need power and leverage. Hobgoill mentioned resources—several times, actually. I think maybe he was trying to give me a hint. We might not have a lot, but one of the biggest Selitrium mines in Kelkadia ain’t nothing. A cartful of Selitrium will make one helluva carrot. But first, we need to get things up and operational.”

He seemed to consider it for a second, then nodded. “To Ironmoor, then. I could use a decent beer and truth be told, I’ve grown rather fond of Maggie’s sour ale.”

I grimaced. Any beer was better than no beer—but Maggie’s sour ale was almost an exception to that rule. But in war, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.