Runeblade-B3? Interlude 6: Myriad Developments

Deep in the bowels of the earth, surrounded by dripping stone and stagnant eyes, She woke. Seven eyes snapped open, and She knew her purpose.

Gnarled fingers dug into rock, as She rose to her full height. Her deep breath tasted existence—it was weak and untempered. With understanding, came zeal.

Her soul flared with unbridled purity, and She knew Her purpose.

Under Its righteous demands, She would burn a path that only the worthy could walk.

“Come.” She demanded.

And they obeyed.

….

Grumbling at the jumbled stack of papers, Rieker tugged unconsciously at the neck of his soft cotton tunic.

The reports were important—alarming enough that he and Ro were working late into the night—but he couldn’t get that blasted feeling out of his mind. That niggling suspicion that had led him well so often in the past.

He looked to his right, where Ro was lounging on an overstuffed leather settee, flicking through her own reports while she nursed a glass of wine.

Despite the even toned wardlights that lit the room, the fire across from her shone through her dark wavy hair—framing her face in a soft luminance.

Gods, she was so beautiful. Still every bit as captivating as the day she’d muscled her way onto his delving team—way back when they were simple Wood.

And yet…for all her presence was a balm to his tensions, he still felt that little niggle.

“They should be back by now.” Rieker huffed, giving up on the delving reports in front of him.

Ro sighed, bending backwards over her seat to meet his eyes. “They’re only a week overdue, you know what those three are like.”

Shaking his head, Rieker let out a low rumble of dissatisfaction.

“I can't shake the feeling that something has gone wrong. I know we haven’t seen anything except the usual black-handed bullshit, but with how bloody busy everyone has been it would be all too easy for some of the more…seasoned scum to slip under our notice.” he said, resting his elbow on his desk and rubbing his forehead.

Ro stood up with fluid grace, walking slowly to him. Moving behind him, she placed her hands over his shoulders, bringing the simple comfort of touch as she dug her fingers into the knots of tension that had been building all afternoon.

Leaning back into her, Rieker’s eyes drifted closed as he let out a soft groan of delight.

Ro leaned in close. “We’ve done what we can.” she whispered gently. “They have a medallion, and the stats of a delver in the early second tier. Even if they are discovered, whoever goes after them will be in for a nasty surprise.”

“I know that.” Rieker sighed. Even with everything he had done to prepare them, it did little to banish his concern. Especially with the likelihood of just who would take the most interest in delvers like Kaius and his team. There weren’t too many powers that would have the ability to slip under their notice in a backwater like Deadacre, and unfortunately the ones that did exist were some of the worst.

“We both know that it’ll be the Onyx Temple—the chances they don’t have a cell in Deadacre are close to zero.” he finally said.

He felt his love’s warm breath on his cheek as she gently shushed him. “You know as well as I that they will be operating largely independently—if they even are here. They’ll be limited by the resources they can pull on. Even if they do fall afoul of some scheme, I wouldn’t count them out just yet. Those kids are tough, and resourceful—plus, the chances of someone taking the proper precautions against Kaius’s knowledge of runes is slim.”

Grunting in agreement, Rieker relaxed further in Ro’s touch.

That, at least, was true. While Kaius would perhaps match up to only a middling journeyman traditional runewright, and lacked their skills, his knowledge of the arts would make him a nightmare to keep imprisoned. Runewrights were amongst the worst prisoners—often finding ways to disrupt the formations that would have easily kept someone many times more powerful contained.

It still didn’t mean he enjoyed the thought of those kids being held by Onyx Temple scum.

Ro pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to relax the tension that had begun to build once more.

“Listen—it’s still likely they’ve just gotten sidetracked. If they’re not back in another week or two, we can start our search.” she whispered.

An easy suggestion, but one that provided no comfort. While he had resources he could pull upon, the most powerful were working at a breakneck pace to keep things stabilised. That wasn’t even considering the frustrating limitations placed upon him by his position.

ℝ𝐀NőＢƐ𐌔

Bloody politics.

Even if he could rampage as he pleased, it wasn’t like he was a rogue or scout. It would be like trying to hunt ghosts, and the second he moved, they’d go to ground—making his job all the harder.

Rieker felt the soft brush of lips on his cheek.

“I know you’re worried, but we should head to bed—Kaius and his team are not the only lives we’re trying to safeguard. These reports we’ve been getting of beasts suddenly migrating to the south-east have me worried. Whatever is happening, I doubt it's innocuous, and we’ll have our hands full finding out what’s happening.” Ro whispered, tugging him upwards.

Rieker allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, nodding along to Ro’s words.

It was another worry for the pile—one that he had even fewer explanations for.

Inevitably, he drifted back to the missing lads—his memory moving down paths best left forgotten.

“I just hoped that this time it would be different.” he muttered.

Ro’s face softened, a sad smile crossing her face. “They’re not Gile, Rieker—it’ll be okay.”

Rieker nodded, his face solemn—but his heart wasn't in it. “I just wish we had more time—had less chains on us. I can’t help but feel that if the worst does come to pass, that I might not have done enough.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“We all do—the three of them are smart and resourceful, even if they are captured, they will still have a chance.” Ro replied, gripping his face so he was forced to meet her gaze.

“Besides, I care for them too. If they don’t turn up, I’ll start turning screws—people in this city have a tendency to forget that the Wardog wasn’t the only one of us who should be feared.” she continued, heated in her conviction.

A genuine bark of laughter slipped from Rieker’s mouth. “There’s that fire.”

….

Hanrick groaned as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs up onto his desk. Surrounded by the furnishings of his station, and looking out through stained glass to survey his domain, he should have felt at ease.

By the enlightened higher realms, he was in the literal seat of his power!

Instead, he sighed—massaging his eyebrows as if that would dispel the headache that had been building for the better part of a year.

Things were going…poorly. Deadacre was caught between the hammer and anvil, every resource he had at hand strained as he desperately searched for a point of equilibrium.

The cost of supplying so many refugees with stable enough food and housing to prevent their palpable discontent from boiling over into riots was immense. Even with the emergency tax on delving activities, he was barely keeping on top of things.

A knock echoed through the room, drawing Hanrick’s eye to the thick slab of carved oak that sealed his official chamber. Fyfen, no doubt. As quick as ever at responding to his calls.

“Come in!” Hanrick called in a rich baritone tempered by a modest weight of years, before he quickly ran his fingers through his sandy hair.

Even if it was only his aide, there was a certain propiety that had to be kept.

Fyfen walked through the door. As always, the short man was impeccably groomed—his black hair combed into a neat slick, and his formal court dress freshly pressed.

“Governor.” his aide said, head dipping respectfully. “You called for me?”

Hanrick nodded, before he returned to looking out of the window of his office. Set high in his keep, it gave an almost uninterrupted view of the majority of the city—a sprawl of twisted streets and cobble buildings spilling out across the land.

“My request to Rieker? How was it taken?” he asked.

With how many reports he’d seen of the sudden change in beast movements, Hanrick had been on edge. In some ways, it was a welcome reprieve for his guardsmen—but he’d not lead a city like Deadacre for decades by only looking at the surface of things.

With the increasing levels of the city guard, he needed to capitalise on this sudden reprieve to make headway on long term stability.

The system’s words the previous year had been clear—the current state of things was permanent, and could get worse. As it currently stood, even if things stayed static, they were in a slow decline. They simply had too many people with too many needs, in too little space.

Thankfully, with the sudden departure of the local beasts, he had an opportunity.

Ideally, he’d pull a full third of his guard from their normal work—rotating their numbers through delves in the two Depths entrances they had access to in the city. The extra resources would be nice—working under his banner, Deadacre would get a far larger share from them than the cut they got from guild delvers.

More importantly though, it would drastically accelerate the growth of his guards. He hoped it would be a virtuous cycle—stronger guards meant less men needed to keep the peace and man the walls, which in turn would allow those extra hours to be put towards developing them further. In many ways, the plan was taboo—akin to building a trained army.

He didn’t care—without that strength, he would have no hope of expanding the city and fortifying the surrounding farmland.

It was a plan that had been in the works for weeks now. His men could enter in the maximum possible group size for the local delves, and split off into paired tribunes before slowly delving out and down.

Engaging targets separately, each pair of squads would be able to maximise their experience gain while staying close enough on hand to band together against unexpected threats.

Unfortunately, the entire blasted thing rested on Rieker’s approval. It rankled, but the treaties were clear—in the Frontier, the guild had prominence on all decisions relating to the Depths.

Suppressing a grimace, Hanrick turned his attention back to his aide—who was currently wincing at his question.

“Well?” he asked.

Fyfen cleared his throat. “Sorry, sire. Rieker is willing to agree to your proposal—but he wanted concessions.”

Hanrick groaned. No doubt those ‘concessions’ were Ro’s doing. That woman was a demon at the negotiating table, and it was down right impossible to catch the guildmaster without her ready and willing to provide Rieker her council.

“What did he want this time?” he sighed.

“Your backing on an investigation into some of the more…insidious elements of the city's underbelly.” Fyfen said, placing a slip of paper in front of him. Scanning the document, he saw an outline of an impressively thorough plan to route out some of the more well connected criminals that had been causing him problems for years.

It was out of the ordinary, but a more than fine request. He himself would benefit greatly from less elements introducing chaos into the city.

“Anything else?” he asked, looking up from the page to glance at his aide.

Fyfen nodded. “A tax reduction on their first purchasing rights for any artefacts the guards retrieve that we wish to sell—and, weirdly, an agreement that usable and appropriate gear be left in the hands of those who found them.”

Hanrick nodded once. “That is fine. Get it done.”

Fyfen gave him a short bow, before he left the room at haste.

Hanrick reminded himself to give the man some extra rest days. He was effective, but he couldn’t have the man burning out—he was far too valuable.

Swiveling in his chair, he kicked his feet back up and gazed over the city—eyes narrowing at the tall guildhouse that was just barely visible in the distance, even with his mental stats improving his perception.

Just what were Rieker and Ro up to? The tax was obvious, simple bargaining. As was the desire for the guards to keep what they kill—that was an old tenant of the guild, and Rieker was nothing if not traditional.

But an investigation? In the years since he had retired to Deadacre, Rieker had always been hands off with criminal matters that did not directly involve his men. But the guildmaster had seemed tense in their last few meetings—so different from the odd vitality that he had exuded for months now.

Something had happened. Rieker may have been a long colleague and a staunch ally, but in days like these, Hanrick refused to walk into something blind.

With so much on the table, he had little time for petty games of politics—especially not with the increasing number of men in his employ that his spymaster was having to keep track of.

Perhaps…perhaps he should hasten his next meeting with Rieker. There was only one syndicate that the man could be referring aiming for, and if he dangled his own leads, they might both benefit.

He nodded to himself. Yes, that would work well.

Hanrick tapped into his communication skill, connecting to his aide. “While you’re at it, organise a lunch with Rieker—I wish to discuss this…investigation with him.”

…

Lights spun through the void, shining down on a body of statuesque perfection.

Ekum twirled his fingers, forcing the motes to dance to his tune as his glassy eyes stared at far off sights.

It could have been moments, or millennia, but eventually a small smirk twinged at the edges of his lips.

With the barest flicker of intent, a bead of light left the swarming nebula, vanishing into the ascendant's forehead.

A smile crossed his lips, the fabric of the world around him quaking at the momentary loss of control as he soaked in all the system had recorded of his gamble.

The boy had been a busy bee indeed.

“The travesty of the young and weak—and another trial for you to overcome. I wonder how you’ll do?” he muttered.