The Resigned Dilettante
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Chapter 109: A Wild Prophet Appears
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 20:37:07 +0000 UTCPelliphos is fatigued from the gallop, so I ride the agent’s larger horse, who also carries the corpse ball without complaint. I divine the nearest stream to be only ten minutes away, so we go there before stopping to finally tend to Pelliphos as promised – breaking the ball in the stream while I’m at it. I also attend to the new horse, then go through his saddle bags before finally sending him back to his owners. I don’t know the odds of him making it there, but he has a saddle and owner’s mark, so there’s a good chance that the next patrol will take him back.
Then again, the patrol might find a riderless horse suspicious and look for the rider. They obviously can’t find him, but there’s a chance that they might have a diviner with them. Any diviner with a patrol is likely to be not very good, and likely won’t be able to discern between not being able to find the rider and there no longer being a rider to find. They might then try to find a better diviner, but by then it’ll probably be too late to find anything.
…Probably.
I know it’s safer to just kill the horse, and it’s not like it would be the first one I will have killed, but for some reason, I’m hesitant to do so. I know I haven’t been conditioned to it like I have humans since Anar doesn’t reward it nearly as much, but that doesn’t explain the hesitancy.
Well, it may be safer, but I suppose sending it back might confuse divinations looking for me, so that’s at least some benefit. Besides, Pelliphos might act up if he sees me liquify another equine.
So, I send the horse back and continue on, going no more than a trot to give Pelliphos more time to rest. As we go, I go through what I found on the agent. Some coin, obviously, and some blades. One had a basic enchantment, but I liquified it since it wasn’t worth the potential divining link. I left the food and travel supplies with the horse since they aren’t better than what I have and would slow me down. No reason to scrounge every little thing anymore. Then there’s the interesting bit – several papers with various communications and instructions.
It turns out I didn’t need to interrogate the agent, as he had written instructions with the same information he gave. Though I suppose it’s nice to have confirmation of the veracity. There’s also a list of what appears to be underworld contacts in various towns, along with euphemisms for illegal services. Possibly very useful information, though I have no immediate plans for it.
Then there’s the communications regarding Ser Terry and the orbs. It doesn’t say much, presumably out of – as it turns out, rather reasonable – fear of interception. However, there are a few insightful bits, such as a need to prevent Ser Terry from gaining the same number of orbs as them. Of course, it doesn’t say why this is important, but perhaps their power increases non-linearly when together, or perhaps they can influence or even control other orbs not in their possession if they have enough.
Vincent is also mentioned, though nothing directly illuminating. However, I do learn from the tone that there’s some tension between Vincent and Bart. Perhaps they have slightly different intentions for the orbs?
We continue our pace for the rest of the day… We’re losing time. The gallop cost me more than I thought it would – I’m simply not experienced enough travelling by horse to have correctly balanced the immediate need for speed and the protracted.
Nearing nightfall, we crest a hill with a crossroads. I know which way to go and direct Pelliphos down it, but stop when a rumble of thunder draws my attention to the horizon. Looking down the wrong path, there’s a town that we could easily make before the storm reaches us. However, that would take us at least three miles off course and maybe cost us more than an hour.
I’ll still make it to Lingonhil tomorrow either way, but so will Ser Terry, and I don’t know when. An hour could mean the difference between being there when Bart ambushes Ser Terry and not, especially as I’ve already lost at least an hour from Pelliphos having to slow down after the sprint. But then again, I could lose a lot more than that if I get caught in the storm.
I look nervously between the two options. If I recall from studying the maps, there should be another town soon, but I don’t remember how close. I pull out my divining rod… about eight miles, plus or minus one. Judging the angle of the storm… maybe we can make it.
“Are you recovered enough to canter for nine miles?” I ask Pelliphos, struggling a bit to convey the distance in concepts that he can understand through the link.
“…Yes, though I may be slower tomorrow.”
“…It’ll be worth it. That way.” I give him a berry and direct him onward to our destination.
We race down the hill and through lightly wooded farmlands as I keep an eye on the approaching storm. Pelliphos is making good time but… so is the storm. It’s moving in faster than I estimated, with the wind picking up and battering us, costing us more effort. We’re about halfway there when I call a stop and pull out my rod to divine closer shelter, which leads me up a moderately wooded hill to a moderate sized cave.
There’s a flash of lightning hitting the ground a mere hundred feet away and deafening thunder, causing Pelliphos to rear up in surprise. When he lands, the Mynharran is standing not ten feet in front of us in his obvious sleeveless orange robes, showing muscular arms and a scarified and bald head.
Wasting no time, I reach back and yank out the heavy crossbow, load a lightning enchanted bolt, and shoot. In barely a blur, the bolt shoots through his shield and then his chest, followed an instant later by a blast of blue lightning that rips open a fist-sized hole and blackens his flesh mere inches from his heart.
He turns to look through the hole in the tree behind him that the bolt made after penetrating him, going far into the distance. “I am glad I do not have to retrieve that. It seems like a hassle,” he says, casually taking a step forward with no regard to for the several-inch hole blasted into him. In fact, the flesh is already rapidly returning to its original colour and closing.
A pair of thumps arrests his movement as my two throwing knives hit him in the shoulders. “Now, good to …” he starts as he pulls out the knives, but is interrupted by my firestream (the knives were just to confirm that he didn’t have a shield spell up).
I continue the firestream for several seconds, but this startles Pelliphos, and I have to drop the communication spell to keep the flames and my shield up. I keep the stream on target at first, but eventually the frantic prancing forces me to stop. Just as well, as the stream gave me enough time to cast guidance, and I would have had to drop it anyways. He emerges from the fading flames, charred all over, but unaffected as he continues to walk forward – his wounds rapidly mending.
So, I draw the Empress’s dagger and raise it to throw.
“Whoa!” he shouts, raising his hands defensively for the first time, and backing away – terror evident on his face despite half of it being ash. “There is no reason to be hasty now.”
I regard the dagger, then him again. I didn’t stop my throw because he backed away and asked me not to – there wasn’t time for him to react. I didn’t throw because the guidance spell told me not to. I didn’t even know that was a possibility. Did the dagger somehow override it?
“So, you’re saying the dagger can kill you?” I ask, shouting against the wind and rain soaking our faces.
He gives me an insultingly frank look. “Yes, the terrifying, over-enchanted, world sculpting, bind loosing, soul slicing, death thing can kill me. Very good. Well deduced.” He emphasized certain words, giving an impression that he did not use the common meaning of them. “But you do not wish to use that on me – it would dilute the layered effect. In fact, do not use it at all, except against foes for whom you have no other recourse.”
“From where I’m sitting, that’s looking a rather lot like you,” I say, not lowering the dagger.
“I said foes, not friends. I am not here to harm you; I am here to warn you.”
“The entrance was a bit dramatic for a friendly gesture…Warn me from what?”
“From a turning point. After Lingonhil, you cannot turn back; your path will be set.”
“Set to what? What will happen at Lingonhil?”
“I… May we talk inside? Getting struck by lightning is rather unpleasant.” He gestures to the cave I was headed to.
I glance again at the dagger, considering throwing it anyways, but I might as well hear him out first. I reestablish contact with Pelliphos, calm him down and direct him into the cave. Once inside, I dismount, but keep the dagger drawn as I do. The Mynharran sits against the cave wall and gestures for me to do likewise, but I hesitate.
It would be harder to throw the knife from a sitting position. Though from this distance I likely wouldn’t need to. So, I sheathe the dagger and sit as suggested, but keep my legs under me in a way that will allow me to spring up without delay and lunge at him.
Deciding to use the expected politeness, I pull a piece of hard travel bread from my pocket and toss it to him. “Rules of hospitality and such,” I say.
He laughs and takes a large bite, clearly seeing through my not subtle attempt to check if he’s an illusion. It would take a specialist to fool my senses, but it would be much more common magic than what it would take to shrug off the wounds I gave him (which he has already fully reformed himself from).
“The rules require an exchange for travellers, no?” he says, and tosses me a piece of jerky from his own pocket.
I snatch the jerky from the air. It certainly seems real, though some very advanced illusions can create senses of touch. Still, there wouldn’t be much of a point in tricking me into thinking he was here. The illusion doesn’t require belief to convey information, and he wouldn’t need it to sneak up on me via invisibility.
“Thanks,” I say, gesturing with the jerky, “but all the same.” I set the jerky aside.
“A bit rude, no? I ate yours.”
“Yes, but you planned this encounter, meaning that you had time to prepare some, let’s say, extra seasoning.”
He laughs. “As if you do not keep a piece of poisoned food in a pocket just in case you want to give it to someone.”
…Well…
“Enough of this ominous hinting game. You obviously know a lot about me. If I’m to trust anything you say, I need to know how much and how. How did you even know to be here?”
“Did you not guess at our encounter at the party?”
“No, no.” I shake my finger at him. “You might have been able to convince me that you received a minor prophecy that somehow involved me incidentally, but you cannot convince me that your god told you the exact details of my travelling to the degree that you could know which exact cave I’d choose to stop at to get out of a storm. There are just so many variables. That’d I’d get to the crossroads soon enough that I’d choose not to go to town, which itself required misjudging the speed of the storm. Even Mynharra couldn’t get away with spending a prophecy on such trivial information – they’d have a dozen gods trying to murder them for the interference before they’d even prophesized.
“So… you must have followed and then overtaken me. But I would have noticed another horse, or the divinations to keep track of me from farther. So, I’m guessing you kept track of me from above? An advanced flight spell? Are you even fourteen, or are you using that absurd healing magic to rejuvenate yourself to a younger body? How did I even kill you in the exam, anyways?”
He laughs at this. “Let us say that, like you, I had reason to hide the full extent of my ability. And yes, I am fourteen – the faculty would have seen through that trick. But yes, that is mostly how I followed you here. Mynharra gives many boons, though asks much in return.”
“And why didn’t you just fly down earlier and talk to me like a normal person?”
“Because you had not yet killed Bart’s agents. You were not yet at the precipice, so the words of prophecy would have had limited weight to change the future. Now, however, is your last rest before you arrive. It is the best time to decide to turn back.”
“And you want me to turn back?”
“No, but for this to work, you must be given a choice. The forms must be obeyed.”
“For what to work?”
“I cannot say.”
“Not much of a choice then, is it?”
“…No.”
I exhale protractedly. “Do you… do you even know how to talk without being infuriating, or is that part of your god’s contract?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny any details of my contract.”
“Fantastic… Sigh, fine. Let’s start over. You never told me how much you know about me or why.”
“I know everything about you, Malz… everything of importance that is. About your cravings and your real goals. As for how I know? Let us just say Mynharra is not the only god who has whispered your name to their servants. You are more than the unimportant impersonator you think you are.”
“No, you’re wrong there.” Going on the offensive to ignore the overwhelming danger his words hold. “I know I’m important. If I succeed, the lives of millions of people will be affected. My presence could mean the liberation of my homeland. But that’s why I think I’m important. Why do you think I’m important?”
He sighs, giving a hint of his own exasperation. “You know I cannot reveal the end goal of a prophecy.”
“Then what use are you?” I ask, making an obvious motion to the dagger.
He grimaces at the reminder. “I can, however, give you other information. For instance, I can say that if you do not go to Lingonhil, then at least one of Ser Presley’s group will perish.”
“Thanks, that was so helpful. Not going was definitely an option I was considering before you showed up,” I say sarcastically. “Now tell me what will happen when I do go.”
He shrugs. “You’ll kill some people and tip the balance of battle. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“Will fewer of my friends die if I go?”
“I cannot say.”
I growl in frustration, prompting an apologetic shrug. “Fine, what can this do then?” I gesture to the imperial dagger.
“It is a dagger. It cuts things.”
“You’re about to become one of those things in a moment.”
He laughs momentarily, then quiets. “I cannot tell you its functions, other than it being a very good blade; no doubt it amused the Empress to give you a weapon that could kill her had you the courage.” I glare at him, causing him to raise his hands in a warding gesture. “But I can guide you on how to use it. Or, rather, not use it. As you no doubt guessed, the ritual it was part of layered an effect on to it, and use will erode it. But it is not all bad news. Presently, it is not strong enough to do the thing that you will want it to. But, because you partook in the ritual, you are open to a binding. Merely keep it with you, and your connection will grow, making it, and you, stronger.”
“Stronger how?”
“Not in any way as noticeable as your sacrifice rituals, but when the time comes, it will be significant.”
“Sigh ‘When the time comes’. Right,” I say sardonically.
“Moreover,” he continues, ignoring my outburst, “there are certain rituals you can perform that will also strengthen the bond as an incidental benefit. I have prepared an example as a goodwill gesture.” He pulls a scroll from a sleeve and hands it to me.
I examine the paper, first for burn marks, then the contents. It takes a few moments to parse, but when I do, my eyes widen in shock. “This is insane. A permanent increase to physical ability in the same vein as a divine boon and a boost to magic growth? I don’t believe you. If this was possible, then everyone would do it.”
“If you would please direct your attention to the ingredients section where you will note the entry: One athame – semi-divine quality or better. The one on your hip is the only one I have ever encountered.”
“Ah,” I say. I still don’t believe him, but it does at least make sense. If a ritual like this were possible, it would require a focus robust enough not to explode and kill the performer. Also, if the Empress has access to more athames like this, then she probably has used rituals of similar effect on her children and favoured subjects, and so would have reason to keep it secret. It’s only the equivalent of a basic boon, but even that can have drastic consequences. Although…
“I can’t use this on myself, can I?” I ask, after having read the steps.
“You can, but only after modification, and the effect would be mitigated.”
“You can’t just give me the modified version?”
“I could, but learning to modify it yourself will teach you how to recognize if other rituals would boost the bond with the dagger or weaken it.”
“You couldn’t just tell me how to recognize the difference?”
“Do I look like a teacher? It’s very complex.”
I sigh, closing my eyes despite myself. Though he is still there when I open them again. Why is he even here? To give me information that won’t change anything and rituals that I can’t use? Is it just to irritate me? He said it’s to obey forms, but what forms, and how is this obeying them…although.
“Okay, enough nonsense. Let’s hear it then.”
“Hear what?”
“Why you’re really here.”
“I told you, to give you…”
“No, no.” I interrupt. “You said you’re here to give me a choice so the forms can be obeyed, but you haven’t done that. Because for a choice to be given, it requires something that might cause me to choose differently. It requires a reason that might actually convince me. But you haven’t given me that. In fact, you’ve been rather coy about everything. So, until you actually give me a reason that I might seriously consider for turning back, then a choice hasn’t been given and the forms, whatever they are, have not been obeyed.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again and looks away, silently mouthing to himself and making gestures and nods as if in communication with another. “…Very well,” he says after some time. “Your analysis is correct, though this will cost us more than we hoped to pay.”
“I’m struggling to care.”
“It will cost you more, too. Peace of mind. For we can tell you this, without risking war. If you go back, ignore the quest for the orbs, let your friends murder each other and just live a quiet life of luxury while gradually growing power of both kinds, then you will fulfil your mission for your homeland. If you continue though, you will achieve greater change still.
