The Resigned Dilettante
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Chapter 115: Mounting desperation
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 21:51:48 +0000 UTCI tell the chimera leader to clear his pack away from Ser Terry’s route, and he complies, but a few attacks still come. Ligryn leads the way, cutting down any that come while Emily pre-emptively explodes an ice orb in any chamber they come to that’s big enough for an ambush.
Like this, they quickly find themselves out of the tunnels using divinations, and I tell the chimera leader to withdraw. It complains that I let the orb be taken and that I am unfit to be leader, but I remind it of how easily I best it and threaten it until it complies. Though it does ask why I didn’t help, when so many got away, indicating that about half of Bart’s crew is still standing. But having learned the last piece of information I needed from it, I simply cut off the connection.
Ser Terry finds a semi-obscured recess in the hill and sets Clara down, who is mumbling in pain – the wound and the veins around it are blackened, her skin sweating with her eyes staring unfocused into the distance.
“What’s happening? Why isn’t she healing?” Ser Terry says sharply to Carlyle, his eyes furrowed in nearly frantic concern.
“I… the symptoms. It looks like Syranthuse… Knightkiller.”
“But… that’s a plant, isn’t it?” Ser Terry asks, confused.
Carlyle can only shrug. “Maybe whoever made those things found a way to do something similar with animal glands… I’m… I’m sorry. I got cocky. I must have missed a symbol. I don’t understand. For them to hang back and only attack after…? The level of complexity…”
“Enough,” Ser Terry snaps. “If it was a mistake, then it saved us. Bart would have killed us all if the chimeras didn’t show. Now we just have to find a way to save her too.”
“I don’t know how to,” Carlyle says, looking down and half muttering. “There are some spells that can draw it out, but I don’t know them. Any spell I have, it would just feed on and multiply – the same thing it’s doing with her passive healing, but slower. I would need the herbal antidote, but I don’t have any on me. Syranthuse is so rare, and the antidote is expensive…”
“It’s fine,” Ser Terry says. “We’ll go into town and see if an alchemist can help us.”
“Unfortunately, that won’t be an option,” Ligryn says, standing watch.
“What?” Ser Terry says, a hint of fury in his voice.
In response, Ligryn points to the distance where a column of troops is heading into town – Princep Vincent is arriving.
“…Fine, you and Emily take the orb and run. We’ll try to beat them into town and find a healer.”
“I would remind you that only you and Carlyle… and Clara have access to where you stashed the other orbs. If you get captured…”
“We won’t.” Ser Terry interrupts.
“Then why send us off at all? We stand a better chance fighting our way out together if we need to. Splitting up will only increase the probability of one group being found.” Ligryn calmly points out.
“…Fine. Let’s just get going then.”
“Wait,” Emily says. “Carlyle, do you know the herb needed for the antidote? Could you divine it if it’s in the area?”
Carlyle shakes his head. “I could, but even if the plant does grow here, there’s no reason to think it would work. The antidote works by binding to the syranthuse and rendering it inert. But it’s not syranthuse, but an animal product that just happens to have the same symptoms. The cell structure should be completely different. Clara doesn’t have much time, and it’d be more likely for an alchemist to have something specific to the creatures in their local cave.”
Emily shakes her head. “I disagree. I think it is syranthuse, not just something similar. Think about it. Which is simpler? That they were able to create an animal venom that does the same thing as one of the rarest plants, which people have been trying to replicate alchemically for centuries, and despite success only used it here, or that they found a way to incorporate a plant into an animal chimera?”
Terry speaks confidently, but I sense doubt beneath the mask. “Either way, finding it would take time, and more time to prepare it, even if it’s in the area, and if it is, then an alchemist should have it on hand anyways. If it’s not, well, the alchemist is still our better bet.”
Emily assents, and they rush down the hill towards the town.
I don’t want Clara to die. I would be less affected by the death than others in the group, all those comments on my height. But I still have a preference for her to survive. So, I run down the hill off the path, trying to get ahead of them.
I of course asked Greg to acquire some syranthuse seeds, but even his network has failed to find any of the rare herb. However, he was able to find seeds for the antidote, which I quickly plant on the path ahead of them and cast rapid growth on.
I wait in the bushes for them to come. However, Carlyle fails me when they do. His gaze goes over the plant, but keeps on going, evidently not recognizing it in the wild.
Annoyed, I throw a rock into some nearby bushes.
The group startles and looks at the source. “Probably just a rabbit,” Ser Terry says, his confidence eroding.
“Wait, is that?” Carlyle says, staring at the plant and pulls out a thin book to compare it to. “Chance dancing leaves, it is. It’s the antidote.”
The group sighs in relief. “Can you… use it?” Ser Terry asks.
“Yeah… the book has instructions and I have the tools. If Emily is right… it might be her best chance.”
Carlyle pulls out a pestle and mortar and quickly grinds the plant into a paste, which he smears on the wound. Nodding to each other, they continue towards town, but Clara moans into consciousness about halfway.
“It worked?” Ser Terry asks.
The group sets her down and examines her. It’s clear that she’s doing better: the blackened flesh is slowly returning to her natural colour, her breathing is less shallow, and her eyes gradually focusing on her friends.
“What happened?” she croaks, her throat parched.
Carlyle puts a waterskin to her lips and helps her drink. “One of the chimeras bit you. We think it somehow had syranthuse incorporated into the design.”
“Syranthuse?... Am I going to…?”
“No,” Carlyle quickly reassures her, “you’re fine. We found the antidote.”
“Antidote? But… isn’t that rare? You’re not lying to me? Trying to give me hope?”
“Heh,” Carlyle laughs, “as if I would bother. No, I’m guessing some god favours our cause and deemed fit to save you. Palgia, maybe?”
Ligryn shakes no. “Palgia is a major deity who gets most of her power from her domain rather than contracts. She’ll likely survive until the next cycle no matter what happens with the orbs. I doubt she has any reason to help us, nor any other plant deity who’s strong enough to manifest a plant so quickly.”
“We can make an offering of anonymous thanks later,” Ser Terry says, glancing nervously in the direction Vincent was seen, “but we need to go, now. Can you walk?”
“I think…” Clara starts, wincing through the pain.
Carlyle interrupts emphatically. “No. Absolutely not. She’s still damaged from the syranthuse. It could be a week before she’s able to move about. Months before she’s fully recovered.”
“That long? Even with the antidote?” Ser Terry asks, horror evident on his face.
“That long,” Carlyle confirms. “The poison didn’t just damage her body, but her healing ability too. It turned her power against itself. That’s not something that can be healed with anything other than time.”
“Will I be able to continue classes when we get back?” Clara asks, a sudden panic greater than when she thought she was dying takes over her face and tone.
They all look around hesitantly, uncertain of how to approach the subject until Ligryn suddenly just states “No.” with forceful certainty, as if baffled by the others’ indecision.
“There’s no reason to…” Carlyle starts, but Ligryn interrupts.
“There’s no reason to beat around the bush. We can’t let others see her until she’s at least somewhat recovered to a squire’s standard. Unless, of course, you want to be the one to explain to the teachers how she got syranthuse poisoning?” Her arms are crossed. “When you do, might as well just tell them about the orbs too, no? Or would you rather make a public post about it in the nexus centre?”
Clara bites her lips, then turns away to hide her disappointment. “Oh. I see… You don’t think they’ll kick me out if I miss too much, do you?”
“It’s possible,” Ligyrn states, once again while everyone else is struggling to with what to say.
Ser Terry shoots her a sharp look before softening it to a smile for Clara. “Don’t worry. We’ll come up with a good excuse, and we’ll be sure to gather your assignments and… I don’t know. Maybe we can try getting your boon to the next level. That should at least compensate for your weakness enough to not be suspicious.”
“Yeah,” Clara says listlessly, “I guess there’s a chance for that.” She tries to inject a hopeful tone, but she clearly knows how unlikely that is. It would need to be a major boon, and Gods are rather particular about who they grant that level of power. Though I suppose they could try leveraging the orbs for it. But perhaps they already tried and failed.
The group moves on with Ser Terry carrying Clara. Unfortunately for them, their carriage is in town, and so isn’t a practical escape method. Instead, they go between the two southern hills on foot and slip around that way. Judging from Vincent’s position and approach speed, I judge that they should easily make it out without further aid from me.
Looking back, I see Bart has emerged from the caves and is waiting by the entrance, looking around for sign of his missing allies. Meanwhile, Vincent has sensed something is wrong and has dispatched riders to the manor and to Bart at the cave.
Vincents' entourage number a little over seventy, of which about two-thirds are foot soldiers, with the rest clearly being mages and knights on mounts. Of the latter, four are clearly chevaliers who have non-equine mounts. Two are giant wolves, like the one I fought in Fluemberg. One is a giant bear, which is too big for the rider to straddle and instead has a chair strapped to the top. The last is a strange creature: A hairless hexapod with grey skin about the size of a horse, but its mouth is a sort of tube as wide as my forearm and twice as long. The tube is constantly mere inches from the ground, swaying side to side, as if it’s sniffing or possibly sucking in random detritus as it goes.
I’ve never seen nor heard of anything like it. It’s clearly a chimera though, and I would guess it’s adapted to underground conditions. No doubt it’s a contingency for if they had to go into the tunnels.
How many of them are nobles? Probably at least a quarter of the mounted ones. Possibly as much as half. I don’t think I could resist the temptation if I got anywhere near them. Vincent alone might be too much despite the consequences. Fortunately, they seem to be going to Bart near the cave entrance where I have already left a listening token, so I choose to go to the manor to watch from the roof, since I am fairly close to it.
Besides, I do have another interest in the manor. The mage I killed seemed to be a retainer for the lord, and I would guess he lived at the manor to be available. He had some papers with copied spells on them. Just notes though, nothing very useful to me. However, if I can find his spell book, I might be able to benefit from it greatly.
I doubt I will find anything too interesting, or that I couldn’t find at the school. But if the Eye is going to continue limiting my progress while I’m in this state, then I need to study as many different spells as possible to take full advantage of it.
I quickly locate the book using the copies as a link and take it. I’ll probably just copy what I need down and return it later, since it would be obvious if it was taken and could be a divining link. But I don’t have time for that now. Rather, I climb to the roof and watch as Vincent approaches Bart, activating the token when they arrive.
Vincent looks down from his horse with contempt visible even from here. “So, let’s have it. How did you fail me again?”
