The Resigned Dilettante
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Chapter 104: With friends like me...
🕑 Added 2025-09-05 19:33:44 +0000 UTCThe servant Princep Theodore promised to send doesn’t come by for another two days, and by then the meeting time everyone agrees to is earlier in the week. Likewise, we have next week off for the Equinoctial, so it turns out that the first meeting won’t be until the week after. Still, I don’t see Talia having reason to object to my progress. Just being in such an exclusive group with him is far more than could be reasonably expected in such a short time.
I decide to purchase the membership at the Ontealogical Imperative. I’m sceptical about getting my money’s worth, but at the very least I resolve to have multiple of their absurdly expensive cups each morning.
Fortunately, I feel its worth is quickly proven when I finish learning the basic remote sense (hearing) spell during the Midweek session.
I feel conflicted. I had planned on spending an extra hour at the Imperative making contacts and then go over to watch Ser Terry spar at the arena. However, I now want to use my full six hours of free time putting my new spell to work.
…I suppose there is a time element if I want to use it to find out about any orb related activities, and I can always see Ser Terry fight another day. The mission comes first.
I go back to my dorm and immediately take one of the small silver disks I had made to use for my animal talk spell and carve the required symbol on it. It’s more expensive to do it this way (carving the symbol into silver instead of embedding it in something else), but much less tedious.
Satisfied with my work, I place the token down and walk to the other side of the room, then cast the spell on it. Like with the animal talk spell, I don’t need to see the object to cast the spell so long as I inscribe a smaller secondary symbol to denote which object I’m linking. But it’s easier to make a test sound if I’m in the room, so I skip that step for now.
Keeping the spell at minimum power, I toss a pebble at the nearby wall which produces a strange clack. Not strange qua clack, but strange qua how I perceive it. It has the same qualia of an external sound rather than a thought, yet I can easily tell that it originates from within my mind rather than from my ears. It’s like a sort of half dream sound one might hear on the verge of sleep, but crisper.
The performance is satisfactory at low power, but the sound produced is less than even mundane hearing. So, I increase the power all the way to max, which I realize is a mistake only after the clack of the next pebble nearly knocks me from my feet. Much too loud. Maybe ten times as sensitive as even my enhanced hearing.
Which I suppose has its own use case. The spell is meant to be remote, but there’s nothing stopping me from placing the coin over my ears and replacing or augmenting my regular hearing with it. When I got the intermediate cat boon, I didn’t just start hearing quieter sounds, but higher-pitched ones too. Maybe I can expand that even further with this.
Still, that’s not something I think I want to do for regular usage, so I experiment with adjusting the power level to be just right. Eventually, I find two that work. The first is at about my regular (enhanced) hearing and is such a low strain I can sustain it even alongside full powered shield and concealment spells. The next level up is about three times my current hearing, but can only be sustained alongside one other spell. Though I can actually sustain it at a higher power with another, but at that point the limiting factor becomes how painfully loud even moderate sounds get.
Or perhaps ‘painfully’ loud isn’t right, since there’s no physical sound that might cause damage. But regardless, it’s not very pleasant.
With the spell familiarized, I spend the remaining time until class making additional listening tokens. I leave one active in the room both to monitor for intrusion and alert me when one of my passive divinations is triggered, then take the rest with me to class to set up my plan to surveil my friends.
It’s not until the next day that I get the opportunity to set my plan into motion.
It’s after my medicine class, on my way to get lunch when I’m startled by a series of loud clacks – five of them. Given the loudness and number, I conclude it to be from the array set to trigger by an imminent meeting by Ser Terry and his fellow orb seekers.
I duck into an alley and cast concealment, then cycle through the two dozen birds I have contracted to keep track of the five’s movements. They’ve lost track of Carlyle in a building, but I get a general sense of the others’ locations as near the central library and moving towards it.
Shit. I had hoped they would be foolish enough to have their meeting outside again, but I have to assume they intend to rent a private study room for their conspiracy. I could try to get the cat I have positioned near there in with a token, but that would be too risky. It’d likely be caught, and the librarian would know that the symbol on its collar means it’s in communication and thus likely prompted by an outside party. From there, they’d likely divine me down in short order.
So, I’ll have to go with plan B and, most likely, C.
First, I start moving towards the library. I won’t make it in time, but I might catch the end. Second, I have the birds retrieve the tokens I had them store in their nests and tell them to drop them on window sills all around the library. I’m about halfway there when a bird reports the last of the conspirators entering the building. I wait two minutes, then activate a random token at full power, nearly collapsing mid-stride from the amplified ambient sounds.
Isolating sounds seems to be harder with the spell than with natural hearing. At the very least, there’s not even the limited directionality of our ears angled slightly forward, nor can you cover one side. But it’s more than that. I would guess that it has something to do with the sound being directly inputted to the brain rather than via an intermediary organ, but I don’t know. I don’t even get the sense that it’s knowledge erased by learning the spell; it just seems complicated.
I wait ten seconds, straining to… spot, I guess, Ser Terry’s voice, fail, then switch to another token. It’s not until my fourth try that I finally pick him up. Fortunately, it seems that the room’s sound-dampening enchantment is more about aiding focus than total privacy. After all, it wouldn’t do for a librarian to be unable to hear if a student tried out a new spell foolishly indoors.
Still, the voice is faint, with many competing sounds, so I only catch isolated words over the course of several minutes. “…another orb… travel… days… … missing… ambush… Bart… movement… direction… lingon hill …”
That last one sounds like a village name. Fairly generic though. Hopefully, there aren’t too many places that share it throughout the empire.
I’m guessing from the scattered words that they found another orb, but that it’s some distance away. But what I don’t know is when they intend to leave, nor where they’re going exactly. The meeting sounds like they’ve moved on to logistics, and I doubt that will take very long. I increase my speed, risking losing focus on the sense spell, which could either cause me to stumble and draw attention or lose more words, but it’s worth it.
By the time I get to the library I feel pallid and sweaty from my senses being blasted by pseudo sound. I avoid the librarian near the door lest she think I’m sick and bar me entry. Near the end with the private rooms, I switch from the outside token to one in my possession. It’s quieter in here and easier to focus on their voices, allowing me to quickly find which room they’re in and place the token against its wall before retreating into the maze of books.
Carlyle is speaking.
“…shame we won’t be here for the Equinoctial. I hear they really make it into something here. Might be losing some benefit by skipping the rituals.”
Ser Terry answers. “I don’t see how we have a choice. Even with renting a carriage, we wouldn’t be able to get back in time for class, and leaving on the first day of the break will only give us a day to get it. Unless someone has the coin to acquire individual mounts?”
I get the sense that they all look pointedly at Emily.
“Hm? Oh, I can’t ride,” she says, unfazed by the implicit request for funds.
Ser Terry mutters something I can’t make out. “I suppose the carriage will have to do… this time. But we really should remedy that. I thought horse lessons were standard for nobles of your standing.”
“Oh, they are, but I could never stand the beasts… Though it’s also a bit out of spite. I said I wouldn’t need to learn because I was going to learn how to fly, and my parents chided me, saying that nobles shouldn’t try to solve all our problems with magic. Which annoyed me, so I refused to learn. I think my point still stands in general, I just never guessed I would need a faster travel mode so soon.”
“Right…” someone says.
“Well,” Ser Terry moves on, “I think that’s about it. Unless anyone has news about our ‘friend’ Bart? I’m still surprised he didn’t show up last time. It’s the first time his agents haven’t been present for an orb. I’m worried he might be up to something.”
“Stop being so paranoid,” Clara chimes. “We just got lucky, that’s all. Looking too much into it might tip our hand.”
Carlyle scoffs. “Bart’s existence is ontologically incompatible with the concept of luck.”
“…Translation?” Clara asks after a second of silence.
“It means I’m with our stern yet secretly huggable knight. Bart’s up to something.”
Ser Terry hugs people?
“Don’t spread rumours, Caryle,” Ser Terry chides. “But Clara’s right. Even though I’m certain it’s part of his plan, we shouldn’t go looking too deeply since that will just alert him that we’re suspicious. So, keep to passive observation. Ligryn, you’re still in that club with him?”
“Yes,” Ligryn says, “He didn’t seem any different the day after we claimed the orb, but from what you say, I’m guessing that’s to be expected either way. One odd thing though: Your friend Malichi joined that day and spent the whole time with Bart and one Preston Calhal.”
“Hm”, Ser Terry intones. “I know Preston. I don’t think he’s involved – he lacks the temperament. I already knew that he and Malichi knew each other, but I didn’t know Preston knew Bart too. It’s a little troubling, but I’m sure even Bart has connections unrelated to our shared pursuit.”
Ligryn responds dryly. “And you’re certain Malichi isn’t already involved and using your connection to spy for Bart?”
“…Yeah,” Ser Terry says confidently after the briefest of considerations.
“Then recruit him and have him spy on Bart,” Ligryn says flatly.
An awkward pause before Clara explains. “He doesn’t want to ask him to choose.”
Ligryn scoffs. “Why? Principles? You think vague scruples are going to get you the orbs?”
Another moment, then Emily answers. “For my part, I don’t think it’s principles that’s preventing him from asking.”
“…Oh!” Ligryn says with disgust after a moment of thought. “You won’t ask because you’re afraid? Of what? Losing whatever good thing you have now? How pathetic. Look at me Ser Presley. I’m not here because I’m your friend, any of yours. We’re allies of convenience. I’m here because I believe your vision for the orbs will increase the probability of my homeland’s liberation, and that Bart’s and Princep Vincent’s will decrease it. But if I don’t think you have what it takes to win, then I will initiate alternate plans, and you will not like them. Do you understand?” A short moment in which I assume Ser Terry Nods. “Good.”
Once again, I find myself rather liking Ligryn, even if I have an urge to protect Ser Terry from her.
“… So, will you ask him?” She asks.
“… I’ll think about it.” Ser Terry replies.
“Sigh. I guess that will have to do.”
“To be fair,” Emily says, “I don’t know if asking him now would be a good idea. He seemed tense on the way to applied divination – even more so than usual. The way his eyes always dart about to assess every passerby was almost frantic. Plus, his arms were so rigid. They always seem overly controlled, but it seemed like he was constantly fighting impulses to move them.”
“I noticed this too,” Clara says, “in study group.”
“He was even worse before class,” Emily says.
“Interesting,” Ligryn mutters, “he seemed a little off at the sword club, but I didn’t notice anything during our club last Penday. If something happened, it was during the weekend, and he’ll likely recover by the next one. I see no reason to delay an invite.”
“…I’ll think about it,” Ser Terry says again with emphasis. “I have class with him Penday, and I’ll see how he is then.”
“…Fine. I suppose I can trust your decision either way… for now,” Ligryn says with some faint menace in her voice.
The meeting doesn’t last much longer. Just a few minor details about when they’re leaving exactly and who needs to prepare what, with Carlyle and Emily once again being delegated the magic research. I don’t pay much attention, though, as I’m busy thinking about what they said about me. It seems even my normal behaviour is considered unusual, and I was less recovered from learning the liquifying beam over the weekend than I thought. I’ll have to work on that – both the control and the self-assessment.
They leave the room and I hide. Two go off separately into a book row, and I decide to follow them using the sounds of their footsteps. There’s a soft scraping sound of a book being placed back on a shelf, and then they leave. I go to the section where they stopped and look around until I find a recently disturbed (by the dust) bound collection of maps. I take it and find a librarian to rent the room they just left, paying a raem for an hour.
I find several instances of the name Lingonhil in the maps, but only two are the correct distance for a carriage ride to take four days to arrive. Moreover, the one to the south has an extensive cave network, which makes it the likelier candidate to hide an orb. Though I’ll confirm it with a quick direction divination once they leave, which should be light enough to not risk detection.
This does, of course, raise the problem of the Equinoctial. Unlike them, I have to attend it. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem though, as I’m sure Allan will lend me a horse. But it’ll be pushing it close, since I’ll be two days behind.
Satisfied I know the where and when of their destination, I get to work seeding the room for future surveillance. I have three configurations for the listening tokens. The first is a small silver disk as lightweight as possible, so the small birds I use can easily fly with it. The second is bigger to also fit the animal talk symbol, which I place on my cats’ collars. The last ones are large silver coins designed to be left places without seeming magical. To achieve this, I cut each in half along the edge (using the magic throwing knives and a vice) to create two thin circles, the thicker of which I carved the symbol on the inside. Then I used an ‘advanced cantrip’ I looked up for the task – which creates a focused spark a few inches away from your finger capable of melting metal in minute quantities with fine control – to fuse the coins back together. Finally, I applied a fine file to remove all trace of tampering. They’re a bit lighter than a coin should be (a few percent off), but I placed them in a bag of coppers and shook vigorously to disguise the discrepancy as normal wear from improper storage.
The room is unfortunately a bit sparse in terms of good hiding places that both are unlikely to be found and won’t cause comment when they inevitably are. Fortunately, the coins don’t respond to divinations looking for spells, nor are they discernible by inverting the Eye unless they’re actively being used, so I don’t have to worry about that.
Ultimately, I go with under the table, using the advanced flame cantrip to lightly melt the coin and fuse it to the wood. It’ll probably be found eventually, but will likely be chalked up to a teenage prank with a new spell rather than nefarious listening object. Moreover, any effort to remove the coin with minimal damage to the table will likely destroy the symbol on the inside and thus the evidence.
Not satisfied with one, I place a backup in the main bookroom – finding the dustiest tome next to the wall and slipping the coin into the spine. Then I find a few more and do the same with them.
Sighing with satisfaction at a plan well executed, I head back to my original destination of lunch.
