Choose the Fate Chapter 2

Back to Chapter 1 

He was in the offices of the Encyclopaedia Elyden, a foreboding concrete building crowned in a green dome within which dozens of separate institutions made their home. The Encyclopaedia had been there for 120-years, probably one of the longest occupants since the structure was converted into offices following the disbanding of the militant order that had once called it home.

     Andrinius had been there a few times before on similar work. It had changed during his absence - a large foyer boasted treasures such as stuffed Sammaean animals, mounted skeletons, geological samples, and traditional outfits, tools, and instruments from ancient Korachani peoples on whose lands the empire had been built. There were a few new additions since his last visit - a primitive hardsuit, its engine and pistons too bulky to be of any practical use, stood in a cabinet, surrounded by ancient handguns and halberds that had been used in the Parthisan wars centuries ago.

     He was in a corridor off to the side of the foyer, waiting outside a door that was labelled Sir Agaliar Hashmaim, Editor-in-Chief.

     The door opened after a while, and the light from beyond was soon obscured by a large bearded figure. “Come, come And, it’s been an age,” he said, beckoning the man to enter.

     Andrinius smiled, nodded, and followed the behemoth into the office. Three large arched windows looked out to harbour beyond, allowing a not inconsiderate amount of light into the room through dark green curtains that were drawn open. The walls were obscured by hardwood shelves and cabinets that contained all manner of objects. It reminded him of his own quarters beneath the museum, only far larger, their contents more impressive.

     The room was warm. Warmer than he’d have liked, but he remained silent.

     “Sit.” Agaliar gestured to a grand desk that sat like an altar before the windows. Two old chairs faced it and a third, more ornate one, stood on the other side, facing the room. Agaliar lumbered towards the chair and seated himself down. The leather wheezed as his mass forced the air out of it. He shifted for a moment, distributing his weight more evenly, and stroked his black and white beard as he regarded Andrinius, who’d already taken one of the other seats.

     “So, how’ve you been, my son?”

     Andrinius nodded again, “Well.” The Editor-in-Chief looked older than the span of time that had passed since their last meeting might otherwise indicate. Still, he must have been what, sixty? A venerable age that most of the helots and slaves of the empire would never see.

     Agaliar nodded, smiling. “Good. Keeping busy I hope?”

     Andrinius thought of the museum. The bookkeeping. The cataloguing. “It’s hardly expedition work, sir, But I do keep busy.”

     “And Vela?

     Andrinius stiffened. His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes broke the gaze of Agaliar.

     The editor exhaled, his expression sinking. “I’m so sorry. She was a good woman. A good woman.

     “Kept you in check,” he added, smiling.

     “That she did.”

     “How was it, in the end?”

     “Slow. You wouldn’t have recognised her.”

     Agaliar sighed. “I honestly thought she would have beaten it.”

     “Oh, she fought it. Every day. I doubt I would have lasted a year. She made it through six.”

     “I’m sorry. I should have kept in touch, I should not have left it so long.”

     Andrinius shrugged. “Life gets in the way.”

     “It shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t have just sent you a wire. I should have spoken to you directly. I’ll be more mindful in the future. We shared many good years together fighting the world wherever our travels took us. It’s a shame to let it all be forgotten.”

     “Don’t you worry, none of it’s been forgotten. Not even that weekend in Ketesh.”

     Agaliar regarded the man for a moment, his expression neutral, then he burst out laughing, his monstrous hands slamming down onto the table. “I still have the bells from that performance.”

     “I hope you’ve washed them.”

     “I wouldn’t dare touch them. What about that karkadanni strongman? Deadlifted the five of us on a tractor.”

     “Yes, he was great! I wonder what came of him?”

     “We kept in touch for a while. He left Ketesh in ‘99 and travelled with a carnie crew for a while travelling through the Low Empire. Last I‘d heard he went back to Ethistonith, trying to get back in touch with his clan.”

     “Good for him.”

     Agaliar nodded. “Perhaps you’ll come across more of his kind on the road south.”

     Andrinius’ eyes widened. “So you’ve up your mind already?”

     “We already have a handful of correspondents scattered across the empire. Ferme is already months into his circuit of the Red Route. I think he might end up on the Salt Road in a few months if he carries on at the rate he’s going.”

     Andrinius smiled. Saul Ferme was one of the more notorious contributors of the Encyclopaedia. He’d spent years in Paraiya, living amongst the people as one of their own, and had returned to Korachan with enough material to write a dozen books, complete with heliography, artefacts and first hand accounts that had turned him into a celebrity in various scholarly circles. Before that, he’d accompanied a Cychlagharri slave ship on raids along the southern imperial coast. Against his own people.

     The two had worked together in their early years on staff for the Encyclopaedia, cataloguing the coastal cities of Skaros nearly 20-years ago. Andrinius didn’t like him, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. But he had no ill-feelings towards the man. They were just different people.

     “What about the Thymi ruins?”

     “Too late, old boy. We’ve got people from our Mharokkin offices on that one already. It’s shaping up to be quite the find.”

     “So,” said Andrinius, “the Shadow March.”

     Agaliar nodded. “It’s a big one. Haven’t had a first hand account for the society magazine since before you were born. A lot’s probably changed since then, though it’s mostly anecdotal. So it’ll be good to get some society feet on the ground.”

     “Mhm.”

     “What’s the matter? You submitted the request, after all.”

     “No, no. It’s just.”

     “Vela’s aepathy?”

     “Yes.”

     “You know me, And. I’ll never force anyone to do anything they don’t want to. Throne, especially doing something like the March. Like I said, it’s a big commitment. You’ll be on the road for years. It’ll be dangerous. And that’s just the drinking water,” he chuckled, “but seriously. Take the time you need to get your head in the right space. We were already organising a documentation of the pilgrimage south, so most of the prep work is already done.”

     “Really? Who did you have in mind to lead?”

     Agaliar raised a bush eyebrow. “What’s it to you?”

     “Well, I want to know if you made the right choice.”

     Agaliar smiled. “The brothers Vezrani.”

     Andrinius considered the choice. Twins. They’d been born into privilege and had taken an interest in history after going on the Grand Tour of the Inner Sea for their sixteenth birthday. Capable of self-financing any expedition, they had become popular amongst many of the scholarly circles in Deochan, where they attracted sycophants hoping to secure funding for their own projects. They were as likely to steal someone’s proposed expedition as they were to finance it as backers. They were entitled brats, used to getting their way, with little respect for local customs or utilising the scientific method in their research.

     Andrinius had never interacted with them personally, but had seen them speak at society gatherings, hence the lack of interest in meeting them.

     “A good choice.”

     “Please, you know you were never any good at lying. For what it’s worth, I’d much rather have you as lead on this one.”

     “Won’t you lose funding if the brothers are booted out?”

     “I’m fronting the bits for this one, old boy. Or the society is, at least. So I can do what I want,” said the Editor-in-Chief. He took a breath before carrying on. “Just give me the word and I’ll have the twins chucked out and a new charter drawn up with your name on it.”

     Andrinius hesitated.

     “I wouldn’t presume to know your reasons for wanting to do this. Everyone knows how difficult the Pilgrims’ Road is, and only the desperate tend to disillusion themselves with stories of redemption and martyrdom. You’ll be supported every step of the way, And. Society guards, White Legionnaires, and local guides. Softsuits for the more corrupted parts of the road. Throne, we even a cenobite whose done the road before. A few months of chatting with him alone will get you a first draft of a book on the March and its people. We have all the provisions you’ll need, with Society stations ready to reapply the expedition at a dozen different places. Everything”

     Andrinius raised a hand. “I see what you’re trying to do. And it’s working. Like you said, I suggested it myself, and am well-aware of what I’m in for should I go ahead. When do you plan on leaving?”

     “If all goes according to schedule, just over a week.”

     “So soon. But we’re barely out of winter.”

     “Yes. We have a lot of ground to cover in more familiar lands before we even get anywhere near the true Pilgrims’ Road, so we need to get a head start before expedition season truly starts. The true expedition starts in Khuraur, and any additional provisions or crew can rendezvous with you in our offices there. So we really don’t have much time to waste.”

     “Yes, yes. I’ll do it. Of course.”

     Agaliar stood, holding out a hand. “Good man.”

     Andrinius stood less enthusiastically and put his own hand out. The Editor-in-Chief took the hand into both his own and shook it at length. “Perhaps you can bring in some outside help. Is there anyone who might be an asset to the trip?”

     Andrinius released his hand from the shake. He’d made various friends and acquaintances during his years freelancing for the Encyclopaedia, and again while working at the museum. Scholars, specialists, heliographers. Explorers, tomb robbers, mercenaries. Thieves and shapers. He’d lost contact with most, but had continued corresponding with others, and he still met some through work.

     There was a heliographer who’d accompanied him on his last assignment in Zephanichan. Her mastery of lighting was sublime and the way she was able to capture candid moments as though they were epic events never ceased to amaze him. Having her with him would surely bring some more prestige to his documenting of the pilgrimage.

     But, he couldn’t help but think of the dangers that awaited him. Not only rogue states or slavers or bandits, but the land itself. The Pilgrims’ Road was notorious for its Atramental corruption. Mortals would grow sickly the farther south they went, contracting aepathy and worse diseases of the Atramenta. Flora and fauna, where they even survived, became grotesque, adapted to the wretched depravations of the magickal corruption that reigned in the wastes of Kharkharadontis.

     There were those who could help allay his fears, whose magickal prowess over the Materia Omna would be an asset in the road south. He knew someone who he might be able to coerce into joining him. Sethria had accompanied him on a short expedition into a tainted landscape, and her skills had been invaluable in keeping the small party safe from the ambient effects of the Atramenta as well as the regions’ denizens. She’d become a hermit in recent years, but replied to his letters and queries with competent and in depth answers, indicating that she still had an interest in the work.

     “Yes. There’s a few people I can think of who I might be able to convince. Mahya you already know, so I need not vouch for her skills at capturing images, but there is a Penumnbrist also, whose abilities would be most welcome.” and then he remembered someone else. “And I know of an etheri guide whose bushcraft would be invaluable as we get into the deserts of Kharkharadontis”.

     “An etheri. How exotic of you. Where did you come across him?”

     “Her. Like most of her kind who are encountered outside the city of Kharakhara, she is an outcast. Don’t ask me why as even I don’t know, but she can probably track a man across glass and find water from bare rock.

     “Well, if you can convince her, please go ahead. We have esotericists and heliographers and guides already joining us, but there’s certainly room for another capable body if you can find one. But do not tarry for we must finalise the roster soon, before setting off.”

     Andrinius edged backwards, “Yes, seems as though I have some digging to do.”

     “Throne be with you, old boy. And send me a wire as soon as you know who will be accompanying you.”

     “Will do, Agaliar. It was nice to talk again.”

     Andrinius nodded and offered his farewell before leaving. He had a busy few days ahead looking up old contacts.

____________

To Chapter 3 

You can look up most things you don't understand in the Encyclopaedia.