The Fusionist Book 5 -- Chapter 24

Chapter 24

“How long will they last?”

Larek debated on whether or not to say “forever”, but ultimately decided against it. The mature Tailor clearly knew what Fusions were, and for him to say that it would continue working in perpetuity was bound to be met with skepticism.

He’d learned a little bit over the last year about how to talk to people, even if it still wasn’t something he was comfortable with. It especially helped when he didn’t have to outright lie to them, but instead only told half the truth.

“Guaranteed to last for at least four months. Most of my Fusions have lasted at least six months, so it’s quite possible that these will last for as long or longer.”

The Tailor held the two stones in her hands as she played around with them, using her mind to control the illumination they provided. She had to look away as she turned them up to Magnitude 6, before reducing them back down to Magnitude 1 as she blinked away the spots in her vision. Nedira did the same, but Larek had already recovered from the abrupt flash of light.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before – but it’s also no trick, as I’m able to control them with my thoughts. Where did you say you got these, again?”

He smiled at the woman’s fascination with the Adjustable Illumination +8 Fusions Larek had placed on the stones. They were just some of the Fusions he had made back in Tarvada before leaving and shoved into his Void Pocket sack, just in case they needed it on their journey. He had no idea it was going to be for the purpose of trade, however. “I created them myself.”

She just nodded, as if that made sense. He had a feeling she didn’t know exactly how much effort went into them; the Tailor only knew that they worked as he had advertised. “Alright. I accept your offer. Two sets of clothing that… fits,” she said abruptly, pointedly looking at his ill-fitting attire, “and a new pair of work boots that my husband will make for you. In exchange for these two Fusions that you attest will last at least four months, which I will be able to use to illuminate my work areas and my storefront.”

“Sounds like a deal to me. How long until I can pick them up?” he asked.

She tore her attention away from the Fusions in her hands long enough to look at him. “We’ll put a rush on it, but it won’t be until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

Larek was hoping that they could have it done that day so that they wouldn’t have to stay in the city, but he was aware that it was already getting late in the day. Another couple of hours would see the sun setting, so he was lucky that the Tailor agreed to have it done so soon in the morning. He knew that she would probably be working late that night to get it done, as well as her husband – but at least she’d have light with which to work in.

After getting his measurements recorded, which was a unique experience at his new size because he didn’t have to endure the complaints of his height by whoever was taking them, he and Nedira left the Tailor’s shop. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” he asked her, indicating the shop they had just exited. “I have more Fusions I could trade away.”

“Nothing right now,” she said. “I managed to get a few changes of, uh, underclothing back in Tarvada while we were there, so I’m doing just fine.”

“Really? I didn’t even know.” He chuckled, realizing that he had spent a bit of time making Fusions and hadn’t really paid attention to what she was doing half the time, though most of it had been simply recovering.

“Yes, well, unlike some people, I do tend to like to change my underclothes every once in a while.” She pinched her nose as she looked at him with an amused expression on her face.

“Uh, oh – do I stink?”

Nedira just chuckled at him instead of answering.

“Wait, what does that mean?”

She still wouldn’t answer except with a smile back at him, and he gave up trying to get her to elaborate. Instead, she took his hand and led her toward the center of the city, which they had just barely had a chance to walk through before they spotted the Tailor’s shop. Looking around, the city appeared to be very similar to the cities he’d been in before, only with more people; the streets were quite crowded and sometimes they had to wait for large groups to move before advancing up the street themselves, but the atmosphere was at least one of hope and determination, rather than fear and despair like he halfway expected.

The one thing he didn’t see were stands selling different types of food; instead, as he quickly learned from conversations and seeing it himself, there were multiple dining halls around the city that provided food free of charge, though one had to have something called a “work chit” to present to the halls to obtain food. He witnessed a few individuals selling their work chits to others for reasons he was unaware of, and eavesdropped conversations revealed that only by providing a service to the city would anyone receive three work chits a day.

“Forced service is right,” Nedira said softly by his side, but his Listening Skill still picked it up despite being in the middle of the busy city. “They’re basically forcing the people to provide some sort of service or they’ll starve. I’m guessing that also includes the Mages and Martials that come into the city.”

Larek suddenly understood something that had been bugging him about their interaction with the guard at the gate. “That makes sense now,” he murmured loud enough for Nedira to hear.

“What does?”

“Why we were told to report to the Faction Commander ‘at our earliest convenience’,” he explained. “I imagine that any new Mages and Martials coming into the city would quickly find out that they wouldn’t be getting anything to eat until they entered the Faction’s service, because there’s no place to get food other than these dining halls… which are likely run by the Faction as well. Clever use of resources, even if I don’t approve.”

As the implications of what he was learning set in, his mood soured further. While it wasn’t exactly evil to set something up this way, it wasn’t good; what happened to those who, like his mother, couldn’t work at more than the simplest of tasks because of an illness she was still recovering from? Or his father, with his injured leg, who might not be able to keep up with others providing service to the Faction? Would they receive less than three work chits a day for less work? Would they be able to find any type of service they could perform at all? What about the old, sick, or injured individuals?  Would they be forced to starve because they couldn’t work?

He had a feeling that the answer was yes, because that ensured that the city and the Faction weren’t feeding those who didn’t contribute. It was barbaric, to be sure, but he could halfway understand the reasoning behind it because they weren’t really running on a surplus of food from what he’d learned. That understanding didn’t mean he liked it, of course, because if his parents had been forced to come to a place like this, there was a good chance his mother wouldn’t have been able to work much – and would therefore have to exist on whatever his father could provide for them to share.

He was beginning to dislike this Faction more and more, and yet he wasn’t savvy enough with economic and logistic policies to offer a better solution – at least not with what the current system provided. If they had more food, ensuring that everyone could be fed no matter what, then that would be a whole different question. Even without listening to the Farmer outside the walls, it was already fairly obvious that feeding everyone in the city was a challenge based on his own observations.  Of course, Larek could probably do something to change that situation by providing his farming Fusions, but should he?

Struggling to answer this question in his head, he let Nedira lead him toward the center of the city. Along the way, he was distracted a few times when they encountered larger groups of people moving through the streets, and he began to wonder where all these people slept at night; it was at least as crowded as Tarvada, and they had a veritable extra city full of tents and makeshifts hovels outside the walls where the refugees had stayed.

His internal question was answered a little bit later when they began moving with the greater flow of people and found themselves moving toward an odd structure in the distance. It took him longer to make it out than usual since he couldn’t easily see over the heads of the crowd anymore, but he eventually discovered that what he was looking at was a stone façade which basically presented the entrance to a large hole in the ground.

“The Underdwelling” was the large sign that hung over the entrance, and when he was close enough, Larek could see a large ramp that flowed down into the hole, lit up by torches. The people they had walked with kept going down the ramp and while the Fusionist was curious about what was down below, he’d had enough of the underground after his experience in Lowenthal that he’d rather not venture down there if he could help it. Nedira seemed to feel the same, as he immediately turned away and headed for a large building located near the hole’s entrance.

It quickly became obvious where she was going when the words, “Defense Faction Headquarters” in big bold letters was written over the building’s entrance stood out to him, and Larek nearly missed a step when he hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared to face whatever was going to happen inside the building, but he pushed through the momentary anxiety and firmed up his resolve.

No matter what happened, he was strong enough to leave with Nedira if things got… complicated. At least, that’s what he told himself with full confidence.

Outside of the building’s entrance stood two individuals, one on either side of the door, though he wouldn’t really call them guards. Instead, one was a Mage and the other a Martial, lounging against the nearby wall and watching the people pass by. As Larek and Nedira emerged from the crowd, they straightened up a little as the two approached.

“Haven’t seen you before,” the Martial said, an older woman with a strung bow around her shoulder. She was wearing an outfit that reminded him of Vivienne’s, and he momentarily wondered where that crazy woman who pretended to assassinate him in the bathtub had ended up. “Just arrived in Fairmeadow?” she continued, asking her question of Nedira who was the obvious-looking Mage.

“Yes, we just got in a little bit ago,” Nedira answered. “We were told we needed to see the Faction Commander?”

The woman pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the entrance. “Go on in. The Commander should be on the top floor. If she’s not, ask any of the others nearby and they should be able to tell you where she went.”

“Thanks,” Nedira said, beginning to step forward, but the Faction mage held out a hand.

“Hold,” he said, staring at them so hard that his eyes eventually crossed. “Ack! What is that all over your clothes? It hurts my head just looking at it!”

Larek looked down, wondering if he had gotten a stain on his clothes at some point, but he immediately understood what was happening. The Mage back at the gate hadn’t really looked at them closely, and therefore hadn’t noticed the Fusions; this Mage was paying more attention, though, but his mind couldn’t comprehend the strength and complexity of the Fusions that were placed upon them. He could only assume that this Mage was one of the newer ones that hadn’t learned much—or anything—about Fusions, and therefore had no way to even identify one. Based on what he’d learned, it was quite possible that no one used any Fusions nowadays in this city, or their use was limited.

Hmm… I wonder if that could be our ticket out of here. Or would giving the Faction some powerful Fusions would just allow the Faction to have even more control?

He pushed that decision away for a moment as he answered. “Fusions. I’m guessing that you haven’t used many of them before.”

“Fusions? Yes, I’ve seen them, but they don’t look anything like that!” The Mage had actually hold up his arm to block his sight of Larek and Nedira, which was almost comical.

“What’s going on?” the archer woman asked, pulling out a knife in response to her counterpart seemingly being assaulted.

Thankfully, the Mage wasn’t completely ignorant of what it meant for the Fusions to be so powerful, as he held up his hand toward the woman. “It’s fine. I was just a little overwhelmed by the sheer power I can sense in those Fusions.” He finally seeming to adjust to his sight as he put his arm down and looked at her. “I don’t know who they are, but if you accidentally attack them, I’m fairly certain you’ll die. Leave them for the Commander to deal with.”

The Martial appeared skeptical, but she slid her knife back into a hidden pocket and stepped back. “Fine. Go on in,” she said in a monotone.

Larek just shrugged and followed after Nedira, as he wanted to make sure he was in position to block a strike from behind if the woman decided to attack anyway. Fortunately, the door closed behind them without any sign of the Martial entering after them, and Larek looked around the room they entered.

It was empty. Low ceilings and wood-paneled walls surrounded dozens of tables and accompanying chairs, creating a common room that likely saw a lot of SIC members back in the day, but for now it was entirely empty. There was no obvious sign that anyone had eaten there in a long time, as everything appeared neat, tidy, and clean, and there was no scent of food to be found. So… even the members of the Faction eat at the dining halls, huh? I guess that promotes the feeling that everyone is in this together?

Nedira immediately looked toward the far right corner of the room, where stairs leading upwards could be found, and Larek followed her as she made her way over. They ascended to a second floor, which appeared to be a U-shaped hallway filled with individual rooms, all with their doors shut tight; these appeared to be lived-in, unlike the empty common room below, and he even thought he heard a few voices behind some of the closed doors.

They eventually arrived at another set of stairs, which was followed by yet another U-shaped hallway filled with rooms; another staircase led to the fourth floor, which was essentially identical to the second and third floors. It was only when they arrived that the top of the final set of stairs that they were presented with something different. Signs of life were present as they encountered a large office-like area, and a half-dozen individuals were running around with paperwork, only glancing up briefly as they saw Larek and Nedira arrive. Surprisingly, none of those he saw were Mages or Martials, but instead seemed to be some sort of assistants that worked there.

“Must be a lot of paperwork to handle for an entire city,” Larek noted out loud when he saw the frantic pace set by the assistants.

“Not just the city,” said a voice behind them. It was a voice that Larek immediately recognized, and as he turned around, he saw that he was correct. “But the entire region. There are four cities, including Fairmeadow, and sixteen towns all enveloped by the Defense Faction in this region, and it’s all controlled from here. It certainly keeps us busy.” The man paused for a moment. “It’s good to see you, Nedira. Where have you been?”

“…Kimble? You look, uh, different.”

That was an understatement. The once-youthful Pyromancer now looked to have aged at least a dozen or more years, and dark circles bruised the areas under his eyes.  Kimble appeared as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and there was a hunched-over bent to his back as he held himself up with his staff. Larek glanced over him to see if there was any sign of the Fusions he had made for the Mage all those years ago, but there wasn’t a single one – his or someone else’s.

“And you look like you’re haunted by demons,” the man said jokingly, but the joking tone only caused Nedira to visibly flinch. “Huh. Really? Demons? What Aperture did those come out of?”

It took her a few seconds to gather herself to respond. “It wasn’t an Aperture, exactly… but it’s not something I want to talk about. Thankfully, Larek saved me from a fate that was literally worse than death.”

“That’s good to hear, Nedira. I’m glad you’re still alive, too, because we could really use your help. We’ve been employing over a half-dozen Naturalists to serve in the fields, growing food, but we’re slowly reaching a breaking point. Another few months, especially with winter right around the corner, and we’ll be facing starvation on a level that we won’t be able to ration through. Even a single Naturalist helping to grow additional crops will help to reduce the amount of dead to a minimum.”

“I, uh, don’t think I’ll be—”

“But anyway, we can talk about that later,” the Pyromancer interrupted her. “More importantly, who’s your friend here? Another new potential that you’ve found?”

Both Nedira and Larek were silent as they stared at Kimble, before Nedira said slowly, “No, Kimble, this is Larek. You remember, the Fusionist?”

The once-familiar man just looked at Larek for a moment in complete confusion before he started to chuckle. “Nice joke, Nedira. There are no more Fusionists around here, you know that.”

“But—”

“And to think I would know one of them? Oh, that’s a new one! I’ve never seen this ‘Larek’ fellow in my entire life.”

Huh. Awkward.