Sanguine Prince | Chapter 08: Wanderers, Wenches, Worries (Second Draft)

Arcturus reached the door without incident and placed his hand on the handle to open it, only to stagger as he did.

[Agility Check] successful!

Noise hammered his ears in a disorienting cacophony, forcing him to take a moment to adjust to the sudden change from what had been near-total silence. Thankful for the rapid adjustment his ears made in that moment, Arcturus slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him, taking stock of the hardwood corridor he found himself in.

The hallway was long and narrow, stretching three doors down to his left, and five doors down on his right. There was a set of stairs directly in front of him, facing to his right, leading down to where the now-recognizably jovial noise was coming from, and likely where he needed to go to find answers.

No time like the present, Braveheart.

Grunting quietly at the mocking voice in his head, Arcturus decided to dispense with his [Stealth] when he realized there was no way to avoid traversing the stairs to the boisterous area below. He swallowed any lingering hesitation as he took the stairs and focused on descending each one with projected confidence that utilised every ounce of his increased charisma. When his line of sight cleared the top of the stairs, he was forced to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

The bottom floor of the building was massive, far larger than he’d previously considered possible. Several other staircases led to separate second-level access points that Arcturus could only assume were more rooms, and across the large ground floor itself, nearly forty tables were spread throughout the space–each one occupied by at least two people. To top it all off, the entrances looked like a pair of massive saloon doors, even then used with some frequency by people to enter and exit.

He felt as if he’d transitioned to some bizarre mix of a science fiction and fantasy series, with women in traditional fantasy ‘bar wench’ attire serving everything from steins of what he assumed was frothy ale, to delicate glasses of modern-looking cocktails that smoked, bubbled, or even glowed in some cases. Swords, axes, and daggers of many variations dominated the hips of over half of the patrons, paired with steel weapons that looked like nothing more than energy rifles from several different science fiction tales he could think of.

Much to his subconscious relief, he spotted more than a few people wearing clothes similar to his own—though in some cases they were paired with extremely advanced-looking gauntlets, breastplates, belts, or other pieces of what he could only call powered armour. The incredible juxtaposition and anachronistic inconsistency of it all floored him, leaving him standing on the stairs and gawking like a child at a cosplay convention. It was likely the same shocked gawking that earned him a sudden increase in attention from the same patrons he’d been staring at.

So much for a smooth entrance, eh?

Arcturus was too stunned to even respond to his sardonic subconscious, taking in the eclectic crowd of dichotomous characters and trying not to look like he’d been backhanded by a sledgehammer. It wasn’t until he noticed the mutterings and cautious looks, paired with nervous glances, that he realised exactly how closely people were paying attention to him.

His instincts told him to vacate the stairs with as much haste as possible.

[Perception Check] successful!

[Insight Gained]: Something about your appearance has left a markedly wary or antipathic feeling in many who’ve noticed you. More concerningly, you have noticed a distinct lack of people with features similar to yours in the crowd! Whatever could that mean?

“My Lord?”

Arcturus stopped short of the second-to-last stair as a clear voice cut through the din, drawing his attention to a curious-looking, redheaded young woman who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen. She was dressed much like the other serving women in what was some sort of dress crossed with the trappings of a western-style saloon ‘bar wench’. Ruffles were visible atop her ample chest, a long, dark skirt fell to just below her knees, and calf-high boots finished the look—complete with spinning spurs and a brown leather finish.

“My lord? Is something wrong with my clothes…?” She asked, glancing down at herself in concern, and then back up to him.

“Your clothes? I—No, no. My apologies. I’m just uncertain as to how I ended up here,” Arcturus said, and offered her an apologetic smile, while settling crimson eyes on her green ones. In that moment, he was very glad he’d studied classical speech as an elective. It was probably going to come in damned useful.

[Charisma Check] successful!

The young woman blinked at him, green eyes wide, before her lips abruptly formed into an ‘O’ of realisation.

“Oh heavens, you’re the Lord they brought in from the forest!” she said in a mix of embarrassment and, oddly, excitement. “Of course, they said you were unconscious when you came in.”

She smiled at him warmly, taking her skirt in her fingers and dipping into a perfect curtsy. “Lilian Terse, at your service, my lord.”

[Willpower Check] successful!

Arcturus blinked at her, carefully working to suppress the anxiety bubbling in his mind as he stepped down and took her gently by the arm, drawing her away from the staring patrons and near to a more secluded part of the establishment behind a suitably obstructing pillar. There, he turned to her again and focused on her more intently.

“Pardon me, Lilian, but I seem to have no idea where I am, or what my present circumstances are.”

He leaned back around the wooden pillar they were sheltering behind, checked out the few people still shooting curious glances their way, and then looked back to Lilian.

“Could you tell me what day it is and where I am, Lilian?” he asked with as much warmth and charm as he could muster. “It would be most appreciated.”

[Charisma Check] successful!

Lilian blinked at him owlishly, then nodded slowly, lowering her voice to a more hushed tone.

“I understand, my lord. You must have suffered a head wound. It’s very common to be a smidge confused after those,” she said with a smile, as if to soften the blow before continuing. “It’s currently Saturday morning, and you were brought in two days ago in the afternoon. As for your location, you’re at the Foxy Princess Inn, the finest establishment in Luxanium.”

“I’ve been asleep for two days?!” he asked with a flare of angry disbelief at the sheer vulnerability the System’s idea of levelling up created. “That’s ridiculous!”

Lilian shifted nervously at his exclamation, and her smile faltered, her eyes flickering with something he suddenly recognized as fear.

[Perception Check] successful!

[Insight Gained]: Lilian, and likely everyone else, seems to believe you’re some sort of noble! Raising your voice or acting agitated is likely to inspire fear or anxiety in those you’re speaking to, especially perfectly innocent bar wenches who are just trying to help! Best control yourself, Lord Jackass!

Arcturus blinked at the alert in his mind, mentally sighed at the acerbic nature of it, and then quickly smiled apologetically to Lilian thereafter.

“My apologies, Lilian,” he said sincerely. He really hadn’t meant to scare her. “I’m simply a little confused and feel mildly disconcerted. You said we were in the Foxy Princess? In Luxanium, was it? Where exactly is Luxanium?”

[Charisma Check] successful!

Lilian watched him warily, for a moment longer, before relaxing and smoothing down her dress as she gathered herself.

“I understand, my lord. I imagine you must be very frustrated at your own confusion. Maybe I can jog your memory.” She took his arm shyly before he could object, and led him quickly towards a nearby bulletin board, gesturing to what appeared to be a perfect rendition of a world map… one that looked absolutely wrong. It looked like the bastard child of Pangea and the Modern Map of the World, as if continental drift and landmass alteration had halted abruptly.

“We’re here, currently,” she said as she pointed towards a colossal continental landmass that seemed to consist of what he knew to be North America and Russia fused. “Specifically, we’re in the city of Luxanium, in the Imperial Dominion of Valaria.”

“Imperial Dominion?” Arcturus asked without thinking, gaze transfixed on where her finger was pointing.

“Um, yes,” Lilian said, blinking at him with faint confusion. “The Holy Aquilan Empire, my lord? Um, are you sure you’re alright, my lord?”

Arcturus didn’t answer her immediately, staring at the map with a mix of bewilderment and moderate anxiety, his eyes racing across the expanse of its beautifully rendered surface as he tried to find something familiar with which to ground himself. Everywhere he looked offered only contradiction, wrongness, and an echo of what he knew to be real, but impossible in its place.

He could make out the contours of the United States’ topographic borders, yet they were merged and transformed in ways that made it impossible to visually separate the landmass. He was looking at Earth, but at a time millions of years before he’d lived.

[Perception Check] successful!

Congratulations! [Cartography] (Active, Level 1) Unlocked!

Your father’s hand in your upbringing, combined with your impressive pursuit of political science and military history, both modern and ancient, has given you a keen talent for reading and drawing maps. In this strange new world you find yourself in, this skill could be critical—unless you enjoy wandering aimlessly in circles!

He felt shellshocked as he stared at the map, trying and failing to make sense of it. The weapons and attire he saw, including steel blades and various clothing, belonged to the 18th, 15th, and 13th centuries, among others, but there was another contradiction to that theory as well.

The technology of his new reality, from what he’d glimpsed from the rifle-like weapons, appeared superior to Earth’s in many ways, and there was magic, too. Real magic. Not parlour tricks and deception, but honest to God—Order, whatever—magic that he himself had wielded to lethal effect.

“Lilian…” he said as he glanced back at the buxom redhead, who was still watching him with concern, and kept his voice lowered. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Just answer me as best you can, and that will suffice. I promise, I won’t be angry if you say the wrong thing, but I’m having a bit of difficulty putting my facts together. It must be the injury. Your help would be most appreciated.”

[Charisma Check] successful!

Lilian bit her lip for a moment in thought, as if weighing the option, and then nodded. She glanced surreptitiously around them for a moment thereafter, before focusing on Arcturus again when she was seemingly satisfied nobody was too close to them. “I’ll do my best, my lord.”

[Intelligence Check] unsuccessful!

Her use of the title continues to bewilder you!

“Thanks,” he said warmly, and decided to discern the matter of her deference first. It may have been pertinent information, and ignorance would only hurt him if he let it persist. “Well, let’s start with your form of address. Why are you calling me ‘My Lord’?”

“Is there something else I’m supposed to say?” Lilian asked with a faint widening of her eyes, and a flicker of worry mixed with an echo of fear again. “I’m sorry if I offended you! I just assumed—”

“Lilian, it’s alright,” Arcturus said and smiled at her as best he could, his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard he felt as though it would burst through. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m simply trying to understand. The head injury, remember?” he stated while tapping his skull in a jesting motion to set her at ease. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Lilian blinked, and seemed to take reassurance from his words and actions, smiling at him once again, though this time there was a greater echo of uncertainty—even a little discomfort. “I wouldn’t presume to know your name, my lord. I just know proper courtesy. You’re clearly part of the Nobilis Imperia.”

[Intelligence Check] successful!

Congratulations! [Arcane Linguistics] (Passive, Infinite Scaling) Unlocked!

Your unconventional birth and violent entry into the world have catalyzed a foundational association with the reality of the realm. By Luck or subconscious design, your ability to discern the languages of those you speak to is far more than a talent—it’s a literal power! You need never fear communication problems, though it’s definitely going to raise questions if you start speaking to Golems! Try to avoid befriending anthropomorphic rocks, eh?

“So we’re speaking Low Aquilan, not English, and you just said I was a member of the Imperial Nobility in… High Aquilan?” Arcturus muttered half to himself as much as to Lilian, though his words seemed to reassure her as they came out.

“I’m not sure what ‘Eengleesh’ is, but yes, my lord! It seems your memory is recovering!” She said with a thrilled smile. “I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Arcturus said while peering at her thoughtfully, and offering another smile to set her at ease. “May I ask why you think I’m a member of the Nobilis Imperia?”

Lilian blinked at him and then blushed profusely. “My lord, you know I can’t say that!”

Arcturus frowned at her in confusion, and his right eyebrow arched in reflexive expressivity as he settled his hands on his hips in bewilderment. “Why?”

“Well, you know, it’s considered rude to stare at the…” she nodded at his face, reaching up to rub her fingers against the very much rounded top of her right ear. “I’ve heard stories of people being flogged for staring. Gods strike me if it isn’t true.”

“My ears? You’ve been flogged for looking at someone’s ears?” He asked with incredulity he couldn’t disguise, and a feeling of instinctive disgust at the idea of flogging as a concept at all. What sort of backwards hellscape had he arrived in?

“Not me personally, my lord,” Lilian reassured him quickly, “but I’ve heard stories! That, and staring into an Archon’s eyes, are apparently forbidden. But I—well, you were so nice, and your eyes are so beautiful, I just…” Lilian looked down, another flush creeping across her freckled cheeks as her voice trailed away meekly. 

“Oh. Oh! Well, consider this my permission, Lilian: you may look into my eyes as much as you wish,” he assured her with another warm smile. It was becoming harder to produce them, but he knew it was necessary. “I prefer it, in fact! You can often tell an honest soul by their amount of eye contact, as my father used to say.”

Arcturus let himself retreat momentarily to his thoughts after she smiled at him shyly, pondering what she’d said before his reaction to the idea of barbaric flogging. “You called me an Archon, yes? Is that, ah, a position you think I have?”

Lilian peered at him curiously when he asked the question, as if wondering if he was tricking her. She seemed wary, but optimistic, and his Charisma seemed to still be working, because she only hesitated for a moment before answering.

“If you’re asking whether I think you’ve undergone your Sanguination, my lord, then no. You look old enough, but I’ve seen Archons before, and you aren’t wearing your ring or medallion. I wondered if maybe you even were one at first, admittedly, because I can’t see an Aetherblade anywhere on your person—but I suppose that would make sense, if you were brought here injured and near death.”

[Perception Check] successful!

[Insight Gained]: Your appearance seemingly connotes membership in a powerful bourgeoisie within the Holy Aquilan Empire. From what you’re able to discern with logic and provided information, Archons are not merely Nobles, but some sort of highborn warrior elite, feared and revered in equal measure. Perhaps you can use that apparent likeness to your benefit?

“Yes, that seems right,” Arcturus responded with a careful nod and a look back at the map, brow furrowing faintly as he examined it. “Lilian,” he said to pull her attention, reaching out to idly tap the marker for Luxanium. “Is there a place of knowledge nearby? Like a Repository, or a place where you can find information…?”

“Do you mean a Library?” she asked with a smile and a faint look of bemusement.

“Oh. Yes. A Library. Of course it’s called a Library. Aha.”

Smooth going there, genius…

“You are quite funny, my lord,” Lilian said with a slight giggle, as if he’d made a fine joke. “Yes, there’s a Library nearby. It’s just a dozen buildings distant, right by the Cathedral of Saint Amélie.”

[Willpower Check] failed!

You are visibly shocked!

“Cathedral of Saint Amélie?” Arcturus asked, feeling himself go very still, and his heart thundering in his chest with a reactive mix of anxiety, hope, and illogical fear.

“Yes, my lord,” Lilian said carefully, and more cautiously, as if worried she’d managed to finally commit a faux pas. “The Valkyries there will probably be very helpful if you’re still, um, distressed, my lord.”

“I see,” Arcturus responded distantly, breathing carefully to control his reactions. Amélie was probably just a fairly common name in the Aquilan Empire, given their seeming love for all things that he mentally correlated to being Latin and European. If the names and what little societal information he’d gleaned were anything to go by, they were some sort of Holy Roman Empire analogy.

It was a mistake to let the mere mention of a name unsteady him so thoroughly. Except that, when he had willed himself to arrive at the location closest to Amélie, he had not clearly defined it as his Amélie. What if instead of the Amélie he knew, it had simply been an Amélie? Just like what had happened when he’d left The Highest and thrown himself into True Oblivion instead of returning to Earth.

“My Lord?” Lilian asked, snapping him out of his momentary spiral. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Arcturus replied quickly, surprising even himself as he honed in on Lilian with razor focus. “Lilian, which way is the Cathedral, and how far is it on foot?”

Lilian squeaked when he spoke, turning beet red and answering in a rush. “North-East and no more than twenty minutes as the bird flies if you walk quickly and don’t stop to lollygag or stare at the monuments and people, which-I-definitely-don’t-do-and-would-never-do-because-I’m-a-loyal-and-productive-citizen-of-our-nation-long-live-the-Emperor!”

“Right,” he said distractedly, smiling at her distractedly while she sucked in air after her rapid word vomit. “Thank you, Lilian. You’ve been very helpful. I’m in your debt.”

“You’re welcome, my lord!” she said, seemingly uncertain, though Arcturus was already moving. 

He strode with sudden purpose through a crowd that, had he been paying better attention, he might have noticed parting around him, with any eyes that caught his own dropping his gaze quickly. Of course, he never saw it himself, too consumed by the possibility that not only had he failed to find his way to his friends once, but he’d failed twice, and in as spectacular a fashion as anyone might have thought possible.

[Perception Check] unsuccessful!

[Perception Check] unsuccessful!

Perhaps it was for the best that he noticed nothing, even when he pushed through the Inn’s wooden doors and out into the wide-open, smoothly constructed, bustling streets of what could only be the heart of an immense metropolis.

Had he not been distracted with his goal or thoughts of disaster, he might have had time to take pause and wonder at the pale, terrified faces of the people he’d passed—many of them looking capable of killing him in a proper contest, either with their hands or the weapons they carried.

Instead his mind was consumed by an anxiety and simmering anger that fed his state of situational ignorance as he walked on, gaze firmly fixed to the North-East and his chosen destination—utterly unaware of the small group that followed cautiously in his wake.