A Virtual Temptress Ch. 20

Dan’s path wove through the bustling streets of Nath Valen. He wasn’t looking at the burbling fountains or listening to the raucous call of merchant’s from Flensing Street, nor did he notice the luxurious scent of brightvale blossoms, just in bloom at the end of summer, gracing the white stone flower beds with lazy elegance.

What he was focused on - with increasing worry as he approached the Inquisition compound - was that attending class had been a mistake. It wasn’t as though any students had arrived. The worst case was that he’d lose the job, which essentially just meant failing a quest line. Sure, it was an exclusive opportunity. And yes, he was excited to see how he could turn things around. And granted, his conversation with Rangrave had been enlightening.

But if things went wrong with the magistrate, none of that would matter. Dan tried not to imagine the various ways this could turn catastrophic, but they kept slipping to the forefront of his mind and taking a variety of gruesome forms. If the magistrate was rescued or somehow escaped, they’d need to evacuate the place immediately for fear of quest-hungry adventurers. The templars that it had taken so much effort to dominate would be killed, or worse, freed from the charm. The latter would spawn several new complications of its own.

Despite the catastrophe all of that would entail, it was the outcome Dan dreaded least. His real concern was that the development team for Saga Online would realize what had been happening. The templar’s subversion was one thing, but Lexi and the imps couldn’t be fully explained within the game’s context; in truth, Dan understood very little of it himself. He couldn’t predict what would happen if Lexi’s true nature was discovered, but it would make the magistrate’s vengeance an empty threat by comparison.

Dan pushed his way inside to see a crowd gathered around Lexi, who was deep in conversation with Emma. Tanya and Amanda stood nearby, voices low as they discussed something between themselves. The only Templar present was William, waiting patiently and listening to both conversations. Dan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the young Templar at the Inquisition compound - after their fight at the cathedral, they’d always interacted through Lexi. But as Dan moved further into the room, he could see William’s eyes narrow as they locked onto his own.

“Inquisition business,” William stated, squaring up in front of Dan. “On your way, citizen.” His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

Lexi looked up, amusement tinging her worry. “William, sweetie… That is Blaize Firewilde. He is my master, and thus yours.”

The Templar blinked rapidly. He looked at Lexi. At Dan. He frowned. “But…” Realization broke across his face as he looked more closely at Blaize. “Weren’t you…”

“At the Kelothite Cathedral.” Dan nodded. “Yeah, that was me.”

William’s scowl drew into a sneer. “A cowardly ambush - I would have bested you in an honest fight.”

“Maybe,” Dan shrugged. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a rematch when we have more time. I was hopped up on some kind of demon magic, so the whole thing is a blur.” The pyromancer smiled, not showing his teeth. “But I’m here to help with our mutual problem right now, so if you don’t mind? Lexi,” he said, raising his voice and looking around the Templar’s bulk, “How are things going? Valken’s still downstairs?”

Lexi smiled. She stood, straightening her shoulder as she faced her now-paramour. Had she always been this beautiful? Dan thought to himself. He’d only seen her this morning, in the same outfit she was wearing now, but the longer he looked the more he felt his legs tremble like he’d been walking uphill for hours. The way the blouse clung to the curve of her breasts, revealing just enough cleavage to be tempting but not quite indecorous… the way the top of her stockings gently pinched the top of her plump thighs…

It wasn’t just that she was attractive, Dan realized. It was something about the way she carried herself. A subtlety of expression and body language. Grace and beauty, poise and wit, all concealing a devilish intellect that Dan was growing to realize he admired at least as much as her physical beauty.

“Master Firewilde?”

Dan looked up, realizing that his mouth had grown dry. Was she talking to him? Everyone was watching him. From the poorly-concealed amusement on the imps’ faces, Dan realized that he had been staring. Again.

Dan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“Well,” Lexi said, “After gathering the necessary details, I have come to a potential solution. It will be complex, and I would like your opinion on some of the details.”

“Sure,” Dan said, with as much casual confidence as he could muster. He forced himself to meet the indigo abyss of Lexi’s eyes. It wasn’t helping his concentration as much as he’d hoped, but it was an improvement from staring at her tits. “Fill me in.”

* * * * *

It had been a difficult week for Magistrate Archibald Valken. Events had started with the visit from Sergeant Donovan - by all accounts a good fellow, but not the most savvy in terms of city politics and official channels. Valken had set him on the right path, hoping his investigation would bear fruit. Valken himself had noticed the atypical goings-on of the Inquisitors and was eager to launch a more thorough investigation. But of course, such things had to be handled with care. Though ostensibly apolitical, the Templar orders were nonetheless a potent force within Nath Valen’s political landscape. And it was always possible there was a more innocent explanation for the irregularities.

But when Donovan had failed to report, well… The sensitive nature of the inquiry meant that there was no one more suitable to follow-up than Valken himself. After all, a magistrate was beyond reproach - even adventurers knew better than to quarrel with a man of his office, most of the time. But that confidence had proven to be Valken’s undoing. Not for the first time, he cursed his poor luck. To think that demons could have corrupted a branch of a Templar order! Such a thing would have been blasphemous to even suggest the week prior. But it was that same blasphemy that had rendered Valken a captive in this makeshift prison. Any bandit or cutthroat would have thought twice before holding him hostage like this, but to the servants of darkness, his office apparently meant little.

They were trying to corrupt him as they had the Templars – of this, Valken felt certain. Or perhaps it was the Templars who had conjured the fiends? That part was unclear as of yet. Their methods of torture and interrogation were unorthodox to say the least, and after several days of being subjected to their deprivations, the magistrate was grateful that he had been blessed with a strong will. Each time he felt about to break, the oath of his rank reminded him of the need to endure. Man may be weak: let him find strength in the law. Law may be unjust: let it find wisdom in me…

Valken looked up, shaken from his mantra by a tremor in the old stone of the Inquisition complex. An earthquake? No, an explosion! He stood, chains clanking as he forced his weary limbs to rise. There was something happening upstairs. More demonic trickery, perhaps. But then, Valken had been absent for some time. When a magistrate went missing, there would always be soldiers out searching for him. Other Templars, if he were lucky. Could this be the rescue he had long been praying for? Had his endurance been rewarded at last?

Another tremor, closer than the last. The smell of burning parchment. Shouting, followed by the metallic clang of steel meeting steel. Valken heard a man’s voice and the harsh-yet-precise syllables of a spell being chanted, followed closely by a flare of heat as flame swelled through the doorway before fading to smoke.

Magistrate Valken watched as an ashen-haired figure emerged from the chaos, scanned the room, locked eyes with him, and came forward at a run. She was clad in dark leather from head to foot, draped in a heavy cloak. A mask covered the lower half of her face.

She  pulled the mask down momentarily, coughed, spat out a mouthful of ash, and grabbed the Valken’s arm before unlocking his manacles with a small iron key. “Magistrate,” she said, “Thank goodness. We have to move quickly - my partner is buying us time, but the rest will be back soon.”

Valken rubbed his wrists, allowing the woman to guide him as he started to walk. “But what is happening?” he asked. “Who are you people?”

“There’s no time,” the woman said. “I can explain when we’re clear. For now, trust that anyone other than myself and the pyromancer are foes.” She looked him up and down, sharp green eyes searching. “Are you able to walk?”

Valken nodded, pushing her arm away and falling into step behind his rescuer. “Lead - ” he started to say, but the words broke off into a fit of choked coughing.

“Keep low and follow closely,” the woman ordered. She gestured to vapor that was seeping into the room, spilling across the stone ceiling.

Another nod from the magistrate and they were moving. The air was thick with ash and smoke, and at first Valken was furious - who would risk a fire amid the Templars’ records? Moments later he was glad to have it veiling their movements as the pair hurried past a scene of flame and carnage. He nearly tripped over a fallen Templar, armor black with soot, and moments later one of the demons came flying through the haze, crashing into a bookcase before being buried beneath its scattered contents. Spells flew, always accompanied by a blast of heat or flame or light; metal crashed against metal, met stone; once he heard the sickening crunch of a blade meeting bone, half a second before blood splattered across the left sleeve of the magistrate’s robes of office.

It was all fire and chaos.

Barely aware of where he was going, Valken allowed himself to be shepherded through the smoke and around heaps of shattered furniture. His rescuer seemed to know just where to turn at each moment, dragging him this way and that through the madness. Less than a minute later they emerged, coughing and spitting out black, lungs screaming for untainted air.

“Fire!” someone called from the street. “Fire in the Inquisition office!” More voices took up the cry, gathering to see what was going on.

Valken and the women wove deftly past the gathering crowd of confused onlookers and would-be heroes as adventurers crowded in. Valken was quite certain the place would be drenched within minutes as over-eager hydromancers subdued the blaze. But he was still being pulled by the sleeve, through the crowd, across the street, down the mouth of an alley. Only once they were out of sight of the crowd did they stop.

The magistrate was breathing hard, still struggling to catch his breath, but he needed answers. “What in the gods’ name was that back there? Who was holding me? What’s going on? Who - “

The woman drew her hood down, revealing a tumble of white curls. “One at a time, Magistrate Valken. If you please?”

Valken felt his lip curl. He was far from accustomed to being spoken to in such a tone, least of all by an adventurer, but he forced down his ire. Allowances could be made, given the circumstances. “What was that fire, and how did we escape? There were a half-dozen full Templars of the Inquisition in that office, all working against me, and those disguised demons as well.”

“You can thank my partner,” she said, nodding to the rising column of smoke that was snaking its way across the cloud-dappled sky.

“One person?” Valken scoffed. “And a mage, no less? Impossible.”

The mystery woman held up her hands, shrug barely visible beneath her heavy cloak. “He is talented, but more importantly well-prepared. He’s handled Templars before.’

“Even so…”

“Are you going to bicker with me?” the woman asked. “You escaped, did you not? I have time for two more questions.”

Valken spat on the ground and glanced up the alley. “Adventurers…” he muttered. “Fine. What happened to those Templars? There are no circumstances under which I should be detained by anyone representing the law in this city.”

“Specifics are still coming in,” the woman said. “My people are working that angle, but things remain unclear. They appear to have been corrupted, but through magic or more mundane means we have not yet ascertained. From what I could guess, your visit interrupted their plans. The Templars panicked and held you prisoner. Your guess is better than mine as to their purpose.”

It was a lot to take in, but her answers lined up with what Donovan’s initial investigation had revealed. Donovan… had the watch sergeant been there when Valken had arrived? The memory wasn’t clear. Damn. “And the women? The demons?”

Another shrug. “Demonic lines up with our guess, but whether they were in thrall to the Templars or the other way around is hard to say. My money’s on the former, of course - the odds low-level creatures like that could breach a ward spell seem low.”

“And you?” Valken asked. “How did you know where to find me?”

The woman shook her head, pulling up her hood and tucking her hair inside. “That’s all the time I have, but my team will be in touch. For now, I’d suggest not taking action. There’s no knowing if the other Templars are involved - we have to be cautious. Lay low.” Hesitation. “This could be larger than anticipated. If something’s wrong with the Templar orders, then everyone is a risk.” She turned, walking further down the alley, footsteps silent against the growing furor on the street behind them.

“Wait!” Valken called. “I still have questions!” His voice rose to a snarl, then faded to a sigh. She wasn’t stopping. “I don’t even know your name,” he called.

The woman spoke without turning, the echo of her voice reverberating from the old stone. “You can call me Lexi.”