The Resigned Dilettante
patreon
Chapter 108: Pursuit of the masses
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 17:49:05 +0000 UTCI don’t dare use my concealment spell to escape unaccosted, but it turns out changing my cloak from mirror to concealer suffices. Eventually, I do find a spot to use my silver divining rod and easily find my way through the unorganized searchers. Their own divinations are sloppy and, like in the exam, they get in each others’ ways. Which, to be fair, it would be surprising for rivals to work together.
Of course, there’s a congregation at the carriages that spot me, but I dash into Allan’s ride and yell for the driver to go before they can swarm.
“Will I be coming back for Lord Linhal, my lord?” The driver asks through an enchantment in the wall.
I shrug, though he can’t see me. “Probably should, though knowing him he’ll find his way into someone else’s ride. Take me to my dormitory. I need to gather a few things.”
Once there, I put on my enchanted gambeson, gather my crossbows, my stash of prepared silver tags, useful seeds and a few minor items and leave instructions to Marcus to note down the approximate times of any arrays falling and to feed the cats and birds in my absence. Then I go to the main house and gather a few more things before grabbing a horse and ride full speed to the country estate where Allan’s rested horse is at.
I grab a half hour of sleep while the servants prepare the selected black stallion for a long journey. I won’t ride the whole night, but I need to get started if I’m to catch up to them, and I’ll need all the rest I can get.
“You sure you want to take Pelliphos?” The stable master says as I approach the horse. “He may be the fastest and longest runner we have, but he’s fiery too – comes from some chimeric traits Lord Linhal paid dearly for – and you’re still a novice rider.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, brushing past him, then hesitate when I see the beast. It’s small for a horse, but fierce. Its rippling muscles moving it in an angsty dance, with breath that gives a faint illusion of smoke. “…probably,” I mutter.
I ignore the snort of laughter behind me and cast animal communication. “Alright,” I say through the spell, “no bit, no reins, no lash. What do I need to do for you to run for me without trouble?”
Contempt comes through the connection as if by reflex, but followed by contemplation. “… Let me command the how and I shall take you to your where. Beyond that, take care of me as you should, feed me what and when I want, water me well, and we shall have no problems… I’m partial to apples.”
The communication is much more articulate than with the cats and birds that I’m used to. Are all horses like this, or is it from the vague ‘chimeric traits’ the stable master spoke of? No matter, it’ll make working together that much easier.
I walk up and remove the reins, tossing them aside, then mount. “Any complaints?” I ask through the connection. Pelliphos indicates a few bags it would prefer to be slid an inch or so, but is otherwise good.
“A bag of apples,” I say to a servant, then pull out my divining rod while they run off for it. As expected, my friends are nearly a hundred miles to the south.
Since I’m letting the horse decide aspects of the journey, I have to convey the distance and time limit. He’s able to understand the need to get there in two days, but it’s tricky to convey distance. Eventually, I tell him to just go as fast as he comfortably can over a two day stretch, causing him to neigh loudly and jolt off in a sudden canter.
We ride into the night by the light of the moon. There’s a sort of quality to night travel that I always enjoy, and more so now. It’s an eerie quietude – a knowledge that you’re likely the only one awake in an area, or if you’re not, then the others are surely preoccupied with their own business. But in Caethlon, this feeling was always mitigated with the ever present dull terror of being hunted. Though I suppose there was also a feeling of safety back then that isn’t present now. As if the darkness was a sort of comforting blanket, whereas now it’s a freeing expanse.
I could go any which way, couldn’t I? Yet I am drawn.
The horse continues for hours, alternating between canter and trot. Eventually, we stop near the side of the road in a wooded area, not because the horse needs rest, but because I want to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. My body aches from the ride; it’s the longest one I’ve had, and I’m not conditioned to it. Unfortunately, horsery by magic doesn’t impart any comfort, and likely makes it worse.
I try casting my wound closure on the afflicted spots, but it’s not really meant for bruises. I do take a berry from the staff (which I make sure to plant) and that does help significantly, though it takes several more for it to go away completely.
Inspired by this, I offer some to the horse, who eagerly consumes them. He reports partiality to the taste and an immediate reduction in fatigue. Though it seems that they’re only capable of removing some aspects of exhaustion while leaving others, so rest is still required. Perhaps there are healing spells specialized for exhaustion that could remove it completely.
I wake up just before dawn to perform my normal spell study. Part of me protests, saying that I won’t make much progress in my state and that a few more hours of rest will be more valuable, but I refuse to slack. I’m rewarded with a decent session learning the next level of my plant growth spell, likely due to a synergy from being in a natural environment after the months cooped up in the city. It’ll likely diminish in effectiveness, but I should make a point of coming out here more often to accelerate those spells.
Well, now that I’m up, I should get going, though my body protests for me to go back to sleep. Oddly, it also protests at the notion of going back to sleep on the hard ground – it seems it didn’t take long for me to grow accustomed to comfort. Regardless, I continue. Fortunately (or not really, since I caused it), I fell asleep while using plant growth on a seed whose seeds can be chewed as a stimulant. It takes another half hour after waking to get it to maturity, but I was able to do most of it while studying and the rest while saddling Pelliphos back up.
Pelliphos seems eager to continue on our way, evidently enjoying the chance to run as he wills, and we make more progress than I expected. We pass a town at midday, and I decide to take a break at an inn. As the stable hand tends to the horse (who I give a few berries to help recover), I go in and grab a quick meal, but keep my connection to him open just in case.
I buy a simple but tasty honeyed lamb chop with bread, brown dipping soup, seasonal greens and thin mead. As I eat, the horse is feeding me a steady report of all the mistakes the stable hand makes.
“Two Legs!” The horse suddenly declares in an alarmed tone. “Another horse comes! It is a sad thing! They put it too close!” A few moments pass with various complaints that I promise to remedy in turn. “Two legs!” It declares again. “The other horse’s two legs has returned with another and has chased the hair fixer away! Now the two make most vexing shallow noises in the dark places!”
Intrigued more than alarmed, I stay put but cast remote sense targeting one of the tokens in the saddlebags. The first thing I hear are horses, but then a faint popping-sizzling sound that I associate with a moonleaf pipe being lit. Increasing power, I make out slow, deep breaths that I decide are human rather than equine.
“So, what’s the job?” A raspy voice says.
“Potential job. Contingency.” Another raspy voice says.
“All right, what’s the potential job?”
“Let’s just say that there’s a group we’re in competition with. We think things should be finished in a few days, but they’ve proven slippery before. If they escape again, there’s a good chance they’ll come back this way. Kill them if they do, and you’ll be well rewarded. Word of warning though, one is a knight, two are mages, and the other two are a squire and page, so you’ll probably want to use poison.”
“My legitimate business won’t exactly last long if knights start dropping dead.”
“We’ll make it worth your while. More than enough to start over someplace else if you need to, and if you bring us a certain orb they may have on them, you’ll get enough to live as a noble for the rest of your life.”
“Yeah? I might be interested in that then. Tell me about the marks.”
The other voice proceeds to describe Ser Terry and his companions. The local agrees to the job if the opportunity arises and I hear the employer walk off.
Needing visual information, I cast concealment and get back to the small stable attached to the inn just in time to see a cloaked figure take a horse out at a canter in the direction of my destination. In the corner I spot the innkeeper puffing away at his moonleaf.
“Hey!” I shout angrily, causing him to startle as I seemingly appear from nowhere. “Where’s the stable hand? She’s supposed to be tending to my horse and I need to go!”
The lean, hungry looking man nods subserviently and makes his way to assist me. “No worries, young lord. I sent her on an urgent errand, but I’m fully capable of asi…ugh!”
As he passes me to attend my horse, I suddenly draw a wrist knife with a flick and plunge it into his stomach. As he doubles over, I withdraw it and slash across his now in range throat before he can cry out, then push him towards an empty stall, causing him to stumble and fall.
“Should have selected your marks better,” I mutter as I drag him fully out of sight from the entrance. Once obscured, I take ten seconds to chant the liquifying beam, another five to fully reduce him to a red ooze (save for his coins, which I collect) and five more to cast cleansing and condense the sticky evidence (and random hay dust) into a hard black ball.
I groan as I pick it up. That is the main disadvantage of this disposal method. While I can use the beam anywhere, most of the mass from a fire goes up in smoke, and the smoke catcher has its own enchantment to deal with the rest. I should get a pouch with a weight enchantment. Maybe a mass enchantment, though those are far more expensive.
“Did that one compete for your mate?” Pelliphos asks as I begin saddling him back up.
“What? No. We need to go.”
“You said you would reprimand the hair fixer for her mistakes.”
“Well, she’s not here right now, and we don’t have time to find her… I promise we’ll stop so I can fix her mistakes myself in a short while.”
“…You’d better,” Pelliphos says with a threatening tone.
…Sigh. I’m beginning to regret the contractual form of labour management.
“Ugh. You’ve suddenly got a lot heavier.” Pelliphos complains as I mount due to the corpse ball. I could just leave it here, since I doubt anyone could figure out what it is, but it’d be silly to leave such an unusual object at the site of a disappearance.
I leave town at a trot, making sure to perform all the social gestures to smooth my way out of people’s memories. Return a wave or respectful nod and not rush people out of my way. Make people more likely to remember the faster horse leaving town around the time of a mysterious disappearance. It shouldn’t be too hard to pin the death on Bart’s agent; he was the last person seen with the innkeeper after all.
Once I’m out of town, we increase to a canter, but then stop briefly when we find an isolated stream, which I dispose of the corpse ball in after cracking it open. It’s a bit of a risk since the stream is shallow and it might take hours for the ball to dissolve. Someone might find it, but it’s unlikely to cause trouble if they do, and it’s more important to shed the weight.
With the weight gone, we’re able to increase our speed and quickly gain sight of Bart’s agent about a mile away, but we’re still in too populated of an area to take action. There are farms around us tied to the town, and we pass occasional patrols and fellow travellers, so I just have the horse maintain our distance.
After about an hour, I get my chance as I’m coming down from a hill that blocks sight from behind, and the agent is just entering a large copse with no farms or travellers in between the features. I cast missile guidance on the unaware figure, then pull out my light crossbow which I load with a poison retaining bolt previously smeared with an incapacitating but not fatal mixture.
The spell tells me I’m at the edge of the weapon’s range, but that should be no matter. It’s not like he’ll be alerted if I somehow miss, and the heavy crossbow would likely go all the way through without having a chance for the toxin to seep in.
The spell confirming that the weapon is adequate, I pull the lever. There’s a slight trepidation that a gust of wind might rob the projectile of its needed force, or that the target might suddenly dodge, but the bolt hits true. I hear a muffled scream as the figure slumps forward, but straightens out, trying to get away only to finally fall off in the middle of the copse.
My target down, I use my divining rod to confirm a lack of potential witnesses nearby, then request Pelliphos to go into a gallop.
It’s admittedly a bit of a thrill to go so fast, knowing that I need to finish this quickly. When I get to him, I find that he’s slumped against a tree in a posture suggesting that he tried to remove the bolt – likely realizing that it’s poisoned – but only managed to make the wound worse. He’s still awake though, and he glares at me with barely conscious hatred. His horse is nearby, seemingly unconcerned about its rider’s predicament.
I get off Pelliphos about fifty feet away and approach on foot. When I get to him, I yank out the bolt in a manner that would likely kill him, but solve that problem by casting wound closure before he can bleed out. He rouses briefly from the pain, but quickly loses the last trace of consciousness, so I pull out a clump of two types of dried leaves, which I crush together and feed to him using his water bottle to wash it down.
The first leaf acts as a partial antidote to the poison and will allow him to return to consciousness. The second is a stimulant that will hasten the return. It takes about five minutes for the herbs to work, during which I remove his weapons and pouches, search his pockets and finally recheck my divination to make sure no one is coming. I get a faint heat flash from the direction of the hill. I probably have ten minutes.
“Who are you?” The man coughs out his question.
I regard him coolly, only my eyes being visible from under my hood and face covering. Finding the effect insufficiently intimidating, I kick him where I pulled out the bolt and he screams from the still tender spot almost certainly being ripped back open.
“I ask the questions, understand?” He nods. “Good.”
I need to know what other assets Bart may have hired as a contingency against Ser Terry and I need to know if he’s lying. I can probably just tell with my senses, though my methods may actually work against me with that, since the pain and poison may mask any tells. Besides, prying answers one at a time would take too long.
If I had time, I could set up a pair of wooden divining rods for true and false, but I don’t have time, and the silver rod can’t do abstract things like truth detection on its own…No reason that he would know that though.
I pull out the silver rod and do a quick chant for something else while pointed at him. “Where is the orb located at?”
He grimaces. “Marildeep.” He spits with the answer.
I look at the rod as if consulting it, then pull out my sword and stab him in the shoulder. He’s a pretty good liar, but I think I could have detected the falseness even if I didn’t know the right answer.
“I know when you’re lying,” I say without irritation. “Now tell me, where is the site?”
“…Lingonhill.” He likely wouldn’t have answered if he were fully in possession of his wits, but the poison mixture was designed to reduce inhibition.
I smile, looking at the rod, then back to him. “Who else is Bart hiring to eliminate Ser Presley?”
“…I only know who he told me to find. Don’t know about the other messengers. There was an innkeeper in the last town, a fallen knight in the one before it and three more in places I haven’t gotten to yet.”
“Will Bart be able to send replacement messengers in time if you go missing?”
“…Yes.” I wouldn’t even need my enhanced sense to tell that he’s lying.
“Good. Name the assassins and how you were told to find them, and our business will be concluded.” He’s hesitant. “I only gave you a partial antidote. Without the full mixture, you will die very painfully,” I lie.
With a pensive look, he breaks and tells me the information. I thank him, and move forward as if reaching into a pocket for the promised antidote, then stop. “Oh, one more thing, you wouldn’t happen to be the youngest offspring of a poor noble trying to earn a living with mercenary work or something like that, would you?”
He shakes his head, confused at the sudden turn of question. “…No.”
“Lucky you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, nothing; just a promise I made myself.” Having blunted my sword, I bring it down on his head with a crunch which knocks him back out.
…His horse might be a problem. I don’t want to kill it, but they might be able to use it as the starting point of a divination, or it could just attack me if I kill him… I suppose I could just ask it.
“Hey, you going to do anything if I kill your master over here?” I ask it through the spell.
It shakes its mane. “Not my master. Master is…” the spell somehow conveys that it’s a rental horse despite it not having the concept of money or exchange.
“Great, um… Have you encountered any other humans who could talk with you?”
It shakes again. “No. This is a surprise.”
“And can you find your own way back to your master?”
It shakes yes.
“Great…” I look at the very heavy soon to be corpse ball and remember that Pelliphos will no doubt complain if I make him carry one again. “Well, you’re coming with me for now. Don’t worry, I’ll send you back in a little while.”
