The Conciege
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August Intruder- Chapter 114- Unreasonable
🕑 Added 2025-02-06 17:09:09 +0000 UTCNegotiations were on the way. Inevitability tossed and turned words, doing his best to ensure the continued life of his longtime friend, Shield.
Obedient as ever, or simply inspired by the desire to not die, Shield proved very capable of listening and obeying.
The main purpose of the meeting—the one that brought the Oaths together—was over. Life had been all but accepted into the ranks of the Oaths, which was not as difficult and grand as it sounded. Despite all the posturing and the interrogation at the first meeting, all you really needed to do to become a part of the Oaths was to actually be an Oath. The only way to stop being a part of the gathering was to be an Oath that proved detrimental to the world. Greed was an Oath that fell into that category.
With the conclusion of the real conversation and purpose for the meeting, some conclusions had been made, mainly the conclusion of how the [August Intruder] was to be handled. In the simplest form of explanation, the [August Intruder] was not to be handled.
Inevitability had hoped to gain more concessions in the way of the [August Intruder]. Perhaps something that would grant overall access to him on the parts of all the Oaths. Joining the council of Oaths would’ve been such a grand achievement and he would’ve called for more of these meetings, especially now that they no longer had portals to look out for.
But that was lost now, gone to the winds.
Aurora’s mockery of if they expected to have the [August Intruder] intern under all the Oaths, while nothing but mockery, had not actually been a bad idea. There was no denying that each Oath present could’ve taught the man a thing or two. They all, in their own rights, were capable of something grand.
Also, in all honesty, Inevitability was not comfortable with having the Oath of Madness as a point of contact with their theoretical savior. Still, it was fine, Aurora was less Oath and more human, and Madness—unlike the other Oaths—rarely shared his opinion and lines of thoughts. So the [August Intruder’s] sanity was safe.
As for an interaction with all the Oaths, Inevitability would be a poor liar if he claimed that it was strictly for teaching the [August Intruder] and allowing seamless interactions. In all actuality, it was so that they could witness and deliberate on the necessity and safety that was the presence of an [August Intruder].
Life had all but said that the person would be necessary for the apocalypse that was to come, but was he really? He did not need to lead them, not in totality. So, if they were to allow him to lead them and grant him nigh absolute power, they needed to know what they were working with.
Inevitability would be damned if he allowed a tyrant or a person that leaned towards evil to lead the world during these trying times. The safety of the world was just that important. Unfortunately, everything had come crumbling down due to the actions of a child.
If not for Desolation’s inane choice of attacking Madness and Aurora, he could’ve possibly found a wiggle room to at least achieve something reasonable. But the boy had done something stupid. In his stupidity, he had given Aurora a justification to declare all of them unsafe for the Oath.
Why did he do it? Inevitability found himself wondering.
It was stupid to think that it was because of what Life had said regarding the Oath of Madness being the strongest of them all. Of all the old Oaths, even though they liked to deny it a few times, Inevitability knew in the depths of his heart that there was not a single one of them that did not know that Madness was stronger.
But they also knew that he was not stronger than all of them combined. This was an unshakable truth. Whatever Life had said of the past Oaths of Madness, their Oath of Madness was not strong enough to achieve the feat Life attributed to his Oath. Their Madness was just not that strong… yet.
Inevitability’s gaze shifted to the body of the dying Oath still gasping for breath on the floor, or at least trying to gasp for breath on the floor. It was hard to tell on account of his face being a mess. Madness had said that the new Oath would live or die by his own will, which was understandable since it had been his own unprovoked will that had brought him to this point in life. But the unsteady rise and fall of his chest as he drew life in with every breath was probably in his favor.
The Oath would live.
And if he died? Then that was all he was capable of. The Oaths had lost powerful Oaths before, useful Oaths capable of far greater feats than Desolation might ever even be able to dream of. The portal, [Heaven’s Gate], from all those years ago had cost them far too much.
More of us would’ve died if not for Madness, Inevitability thought. And in the end, how had they repaid Madness? By allowing some Oath not even a month old to try and disrespect him at this meeting. By allowing Shield stand in his way when his son had been in danger.
If Inevitability did not currently have a bunch of Oaths standing witness in the room with him, he would’ve cracked under the pressure of their collective stupidity and run a hand through his hair.
Quite the leader you are.
On the bright side, Madness had shown unpredictable compassion and allowed—no, demanded—his treatment at the hands of the Oath of Life. That at least told Inevitability that the Oath had no worrying enmity towards them for what had happened.
That was a good thing. That was a win in his book.
With a mental sigh, Inevitability brought himself back to the new dilemma he was fighting: the dilemma of how to save Shield’s life.
Because a few direct hits from Madness was basically asking her to risk her life. It was unreasonable, unless you knew War and Madness. Well, unless you knew War. Everything was unreasonable in Madness and that was what you learnt when you knew Madness.
As for War, it was justifiable. By preventing War from saving their son, Shield had irredeemably allowed their son to risk his life when all the odds had been stacked against him. It was only fair that in return, Shield risk her life when all the odds are stacked against her.
All these could’ve been avoidable if Shield had just been properly diplomatic about her approach. Alas, he was arguably at fault. He had been the one to send her.
An SS-rank portal turning into a Chaos Run when that oddly worrying monster kept on coming out and searching for only God knew what was not something they were willing to risk.
And from what Shield had told him of its casual disregard for her even after she’d established her dominion as an Oath, there was no way they were willing to risk its continued appearance. They couldn’t fight it off because it was not interested in chaos and destruction. It came, sniffed around, and left. They also couldn’t hold it down long enough to fight it because they had no idea what it wanted so they couldn’t bait it.
Then again, did they really want to fight it?
“And this offer is something you think will save Shield?” Aurora asked, baiting Inevitability.
Pulling himself from his multitude of thoughts, Inevitability almost nodded but he caught himself before he did.
“The continued comfort and safety off all the Oaths remains my aim,” he answered diplomatically. “But this isn’t about saving Shield. I am simply presenting an apology. Appeasement in the place of vengeance.”
Aurora cocked a brow as a show of interest. “Appeasement in place of vengeance,” she echoed.
Inevitability nodded. “Even if we agreed to your conditions regarding Shield accepting what you offered, all it would leave us with is superficial satisfaction. My counter offer will leave us with useful appeasement.”
She leaned forward, set her elbows on the table. “And what if this punishment is the fitting one?”
“You are no longer War, Aurora,” he said with a shake of his head. “You are no longer so dominated by your concept that you would not temper justice with reason. In that, I can at least agree that you have found a luck greater than ours.”
Beside her, Madness was slowly dripping blood all over the table. It hadn’t been a long while since his fight with Pain, but it looked like the effect of whatever Pain had done to him had still not worn off. Blood still dripped in slow trickles from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Inevitability would admit to being slightly worried. Especially since Madness had not requested any healing for himself.
“You spoke of your special program,” Aurora said finally, something about the moment of her words felt as if she only said them to draw his attention from Madness and back to her. “I’m glad to learn that you have gained permission from the schools and governments to achieve it. I remember how much you pushed for it, how much you needed it to be inevitable. Congratulations.”
Inevitability accepted her congratulations with a slight bow of his head. “It was difficult, but I found success.”
“After far too many sacrifices,” Shield muttered.
Not for the first time, Inevitability thought of just how childish she could be in matters concerning him. But he rarely ever commented on it.
“So what is this offer?” Aurora asked. “If I remember correctly, this program of yours is designed for those with unranked classes and unique classes.”
“As well as those with unranked classes and unranked growth potentials,” Inevitability amended. When Aurora gave him an empty look, he added: “There has been an appearance of Gifted children with unranked growth potential and classes. As for those with only unranked growth potentials, they are only allowed in the place where their class rank is S.”
“And our second child falls short of it by two ranks,” Aurora said in conclusion.
Inevitability nodded. “However, I believe that I am in a place to pull strings to have him admitted into Fallen High, under special circumstances.”
“And no one will bat an eye?” she asked, skeptical. “It sounds like a lot.”
“It won’t really be so difficult a task to achieve,” Inevitability said with a shrug. “Due to researches conducted by those capable of conducting them, it is our belief that there is another class of Gifted that just might require special attention during these trying times.”
That caught Aurora’s attention. “I’m listening. What class is this?”
“The [Invoker] class,” he answered.
“Really? I’m aware of the speculations around the class, but are they that necessary?” Aurora sat back with folded arms. Her eyes darted to her husband very briefly, checking on him. Madness still had his eyes on his console, but his fingers were no longer active. If it worried her, she kept the worry from her expression. “The [Invoker] class has always been its own type of enigma, especially with the faith stats, but I don’t think that is enigmatic enough to warrant such attention.”
“Normally it won’t be,” Inevitability agreed. “In fact, a lot of people had pushed against the class’ admittance saying that I was turning something good into a way of handling my own personal curiosity. But things have changed ever since the arrival of the [August Intruder].”
Aurora was no longer the only one listening so raptly. While the other Oaths present had been listening merely to see the outcome of the conversation, they now looked interested in the conversation itself.
“What changed?” Aurora asked.
“There have been reports of those with the [Invoker] class experiencing a sudden rise in these faith points of theirs,” he explained. “Now, a lot of people are not aware of this, but the rise started popping up among the class after the arrival of the [August Intruder]. I’m willing to bet all that I have that they have something in common.”
A frown crossed Life’s face. It looked contemplative. Surprisingly, the old man said nothing. For a man who was always more than happy to flaunt his knowledge cryptically and say anything when he had the chance, it was suspicious.
He knew something, something he could not share. Either that or he really needed to focus on healing Pain or was a little too scared of Madness right now.
“So, we’ve decided that it would not be a bad idea to train them specially and see what we can do in order to find the secret of this growth,” Inevitability finished.
“What is the highest recorded growth?” Aurora asked.
“Eight points? Why? Do you know someone with the class?”
Aurora shook her head. “Just a question of curiosity. And I know a lot of Gifted with the [Invoker] class. For some, eight isn’t really I high growth, especially when you consider how much they’ve grown.”
“Maybe,” Inevitability agreed. “But it is a high growth when you consider the fact that the faith stat does not grow. What you get is what you have.”
“Is there something you would like to add, Life?” Grace asked, shifting the attention of the entire room to the old man.
It took Inevitability a moment to realize why that made sense. She had a point. The [Invoker] class was only one of two classes with faith stats. The [Priest] class was the second one.
“The [Priest] class also has faith stats,” Inevitability noted. “Are you willing to shed some light on this matter for us?”
Life did not look up from his task. “Only that I experienced the same growth upon the establishment of dominance by the [August Intruder].” He frowned. “It was a growth of six points. I will admit to being disappointed to hear that the [Invoker] class has a higher recorded growth number than the [Priest] class.”
“Probably because I have not been looking into the [Priest] class,” Inevitability said. “I have never truly been a fan of meddling in the affairs of priests, by class or by vocation. Perhaps I should look into it.”
“The highest recorded amongst the known [Priest] class is me at six points.” Life still didn’t look up. “It is a worrying thing to find that I still possess a certain level of envy and self importance after so many years of living. That I would feel bad to know that there are those more important than me in certain ways where I should matter, leaves an unpleasant feeling.”
“For all you years alive,” Grace said gently, “all it says is that you are still human. And that is a good thing.”
“Oh, believe me,” Life muttered under his breath. “You have no idea just how good of a thing it is.”
“Priests, by vocation, are the middlemen between the people and their gods, right?” Language asked, adding her opinion. “I’ve heard that the vocation was created in emulation of the class.”
“Yes, it was,” Life answered.
“So, if the arrival of the [August Intruder] is leading to a rise in faith points in classes like the [Priest], does that mean that this person just might be some kind of a god?”
A new silence fell upon the room at Language’s words. Inevitability had considered that possibility. But that idea of the [August Intruder] being a god felt a little too daunting. The old Oaths knew of the demi-gods, and anyone who knew about demi-gods definitely knew that if there were demi-gods, then there were gods.
The worrying thing was that there were no worlds belonging to the demi-gods that they had met that had experienced a good outcome. Their ends were always so… grave.
All eyes settled on Aurora.
The former Oath looked lost in thought.
“I doubt that to be the case,” she said, clearly hiding something. “But I would not put it beyond the realm of possibilities. There are records of some Oaths being worshipped as gods in some civilizations. It has always been—”
Madness placed his console casually on the table and wiped the blood from his still bleeding nose with the back of his hand. It was always so eerie how the slightest change in the Oath’s actions always drew everyone’s attention.
Looking down at the blood on the back of his hand, Madness’ expression seemed to twitch. It was so minute that if you asked Inevitability to say what exactly had twitched about it, he would not be able to state what it was categorically.
Slowly, Madness got up from his chair. He placed a gentle hand on Aurora’s shoulder, then slowly walked out of the room. The Oaths watched him go.
Inevitability wondered how many people thought of convincing Life to heal Desolation in Madness’ absence. He also wondered how many people remembered Aurora’s presence and turned down the idea.
But most importantly, while Madness’ hand placement on his wife’s shoulder had seemed like nothing out of the blue, just a husband placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, he wondered how many people might have read something different in the action.
Why? Because for a moment, for some reason, it had felt as if Madness had done it for actual physical support.
If that was true, then it brought another question to Inevitability’s mind.
Just what did Pain hit him with?
Once Madness was gone, a sudden tension left the room. Aurora’s eyes settled on the blood on the table. There was something sad in them. Her eyes were not rheumy, neither were they droopy. They were just… sad.
Then the sadness was gone. She reached across the table and retrieved the gaming console. She took a moment to look at whatever was on the screen before placing it face down in front of her.
“The [August Intruder] is no god,” she said, returning seamlessly to the conversation. “At least they do not seem or look like any kind of god we know right now.”
“Wait!” Shock cut across Language’s face. “What the hell?”
“Yes, what the hell?” Fear repeated. “Gods are real?”
Inevitability dismissed their shock with a wave of his hand as if chasing a fly away. “We have no confirmation on that. But Demi-gods are real. We’ve met a few.”
“Killed a few, too,” Grace added.
“Do they give benefits?” Fear asked.
Language nodded vigorously. “Do they drop loots?”
“All your questions will be answered eventually,” Inevitability said, silencing them. “For now, we are addressing a different subject.” He turned to Aurora. “What I was trying to say before we went astray is that I can get your son a spot in Fallen High, if you wish it.”
“Why Fallen High?”
Inevitability did not understand where she was going with the question. It sounded like a trick question.
“It’s the best Gifted school in your country,” he answered, still slightly confused. “They have the best educational numbers as well as the best Gifted to Delver conversion rate. And a high percentage of their Gifted who go on to become Delvers are comfortably successful. I figured you would want the best for him and want to keep him closer to home. And the special program is quite literally designed to create the best in the chosen schools.”
“And what if he doesn’t want Fallen High?”
Inevitability was a little stomped. It took him a moment to remember that not all families were the same. In his family, growing up you did not necessarily get to pick the school you wanted to go to. You could suggest it to your parents, but in the best case scenario, they gave you a list of schools to pick from that sometimes weren’t even more than five, and you hoped that they weren’t testing your ability to make a good decision, and they actually sent you to the school you wanted.
“I have enough connections to get him into any good school of your choice,” he answered. “And before you talk about how you’re connected, too. I do remember, for a fact, that you and Madness don’t like pulling strings directly or calling in favors unless you absolutely have to. This is not pulling strings or calling in favors, this is an Oath making amends for an action wrongfully taken.”
Aurora paused, thoughtful. “Make it access to all the schools with the program he can get to choose from and I can forego the initial punishment.”
“All the schools?” Inevitability almost frowned. That would take a lot of phone calls to set up.
Aurora nodded. “Deal?”
“Deal.” It wasn’t like he was in a position to say no. Besides, he could do it, it would just be stressful.
“Good.”
Inevitability could already feel the stress that would come from making all the calls before finally making a decision. The principals of these powerful schools were, in a way, like Oaths, drunk on their measly powers. Then he would have to offend a few when he would call them back to tell them that he no longer needed their space.
Sometimes he understood the ease that came with ruling with the threat of power and not the care of diplomacy. It led those weaker than you to mistake your diplomacy for weakness.
“Now,” he said, moving the conversation along. “You said something about a second request.”
“Yes,” Aurora confirmed. “The first request was actually meant to be a punishment for the person who had committed the crime and the second a punishment for the crime itself.”
“Then what is the second?”
“Eight years ago, a Chaos Run broke out in the east of Asia—”
“No,” Shield said almost instantaneously before Aurora could finish. “You cannot.”
“And yet I am,” Aurora said, unshaken. “But rest assured, I will not clean you out.”
Inevitability thought about it, knowing exactly what the both of them were arguing about. After a while, he shook his head. “She has a point, Aurora,” he said.
Aurora cocked an ominous brow at him. “She has a point?”
“She does,” Inevitability said because Shield actually had a point this time. “She almost lost her life putting the creature down. It is unreasonable to ask her to surrender the reward for it to her.”
“Unreasonable?” Aurora repeated with a very low hiss, a very slow building rage that exploded like a thousand fireworks. “UNREASONABLE?!” She slammed her fist on the desk. “YOU SPEAK TO ME OF UNREASONABLE?”
“Aurora—” Grace began, only to be silenced by a scathing look from Aurora.
“You will hold your tongue, Grace, or I will hold it for you, and the world will not protect you from it.” Then she rounded on Inevitability. “I will abandon this gathering. I and my husband. We will wash our hands of everything that has to do with the Oaths. You will not find us when we do, because you know that you cannot. We will go into portals we want to go into and appear only where we want to be.”
“You would doom the world over this?” Inevitability asked.
Aurora seemed to bare her teeth. “I will watch the world burn if it keeps my family alive. Do not question that for a second.”
Inevitability did not understand what was happening. This made no sense. “Logic guides you, Aurora,” he said, trying a different strategy. “Your punishments are never without reason.”
“You speak to me of reason?” she hissed. “You condemn a child to almost certain death by standing in the way of his father saving him and ask his mother to handle you with reason? With REASON?!”
She was already halfway out of her seat. Inevitability saw it then. She was like a wild animal, a mother protecting or avenging her child.
She was right. You did not threaten a child’s life and ask their mother for reason. That was unreasonable.
“Shield,” Inevitability said with a sigh.
“Chetam, no,” Shield was quick to protest. “She cannot—”
He turned to her, held her face in his so that he looked into her eyes. It was the most intimate form of physical contact he’d ever had with her since he’d become an Oath.
“You may not understand this,” he said. “But I want you to try. What would you give to punish someone that killed your child?”
“But her child didn’t—”
Inevitability’s hold on her face hardened, silencing her. “You might as well have. The possibility of your child dying because someone stood in your way preventing you from helping is almost as terrible as the child dying because someone stood in your way preventing you from helping. Do you understand?”
Shield was silent for a moment. She looked into his eyes. Then something changed. Once she was looking at him in his eyes simply because he held her attention, now she was looking into his eyes for a different reason.
Inevitability did not know what the reason was but he recognized the look. It was soft, forlorn. It was the look of regret. The look of wishing upon shooting stars yet knowing your wishes would not come through. She looked at him that way sometimes.
Finally, the soft look grew saddened. Ruth, the Oath of Shield, grew sad.
By the life of him, she understood. It was incredulous. Inevitability had not thought that she would.
Not taking her eyes away from him, she answered, speaking to Aurora. “You can have the guardian’s corpse. Make whatever weapons you will from it.”
“Good,” Aurora said. “Then I believe our meeting is concluded.”
“I will have it sent to you before the end of next month,” she said. “I will have you know that I am yet to find a crafter capable of making anything decent out of it without charging an unreasonable price. And I’ve spoken to [Unbound] and he’s let me know that even Dolapo won’t touch the thing with a ten foot pole. And she’s the only one I know that can craft the best thing out of it.”
“Dolakpo,” Inevitability said, correcting her pronunciation.
He had come to learn that it was better to hear a Yoruba name before learning its spelling than to learn its spelling before hearing its name when it came to a lot of non-Nigerians that he knew.
“Don’t worry about my ability to find a fitting [Crafter],” Aurora said, picking up Madness’ gaming console and standing up and moving away from her chair. “Like Inevitability said, I have connections. As for the transportation of the corpses, we will send Fendor.”
“From Madness’ team?” Inevitability asked.
“Of course,” she confirmed. “He has the best teleportation skill I’ve ever seen. I believe it is also a given that they are not to be punished or discriminated against for standing with my husband to save my son.”
That was actually a no-brainer as far as Inevitability was concerned. The aim of making the Oaths have teams was for the Oaths to have people that would die for them. The actions of an Oath’s team in their name was the responsibility of the Oath.
“They are not liable for their actions,” Inevitability confirmed.
“Good.” Aurora looked at everyone present and nodded. “Meeting adjourned.”
With that, she left the room.
She hadn’t even looked at Desolation still fighting for his life on the floor.
Inevitability hoped that the new Oath would survive in time for them to get him someone with the [Healer] class. A [Mage] would’ve sufficed but the only [Mage] currently around didn’t have a healing skill or spell. And even if he did, he was in no position to use them on account of still being healed by Life.
It also didn’t take any brain power to know that even in their absence, Life would not defy Madness’ instruction not to save Desolation.
Inevitability pulled out his mobile cell phone and turned it on.
Sheild looked at him. “Who are you calling?”
“A [Healer] I know,” he answered. “Someone has to save Desolation’s life. Then, once he’s capable of thinking again, he and I will have words regarding his blatant life threatening stupidity.”
Shield looked down at Desolation and grimaced.
“If he’s capable of thinking again.”
The Oath was in a terrible state.
…
In twenty-four hours, the small stain of white at the roots of a handful of Melmarc’s hair had grown by more than an inch. Ark had watched it happen with some trepidation.
When he’d pointed it out to their Uncle Dorthna, he had given it a long hard look before dismissing it as nothing harmful.
“If anything,” he’d said. “It might be beneficial for him. It just says that his body handles pure mana better than most.”
At some point, Ark had—against his better judgement—lifted Mel’s eyelids to make sure his eyes had also not been turning white. He was happy to find only hazel eyes staring back at him. Those with the [Faker] class were not generally liked among the Gifted. He could only imagine how people would treat someone with the [Faker] class as well as white eyes.
“Maybe I’m just worrying too much,” he thought as he climbed his bed.
A few hours ago, Mel’s pupils had moved behind his eyes, which was a good sign. Hopefully, tomorrow something better would happen.
Ark closed his eyes to sleep for the night, and called out in a quiet voice. “Good night, Spitfire.”
He wasn’t expecting a response from the demon. Even though Spitfire spoke to him telepathically, it was on rare occasions and with a lexicon and tone that told him that it was a child. Or at least had the mind of one.
Wondering which of Melmarc’s shirts was currently suffering under the wrath of Spitfire’s teeth, he turned, hoping it was nothing important, and froze.
For reasons completely unknown to him, Spitfire was lying comfortably on top of Mel. It had never done that before.
He wondered if there was something special happening that was leading it to lie down on top of Mel. After all, it had only started lying down on his own body when he went to sleep after it had helped him become a Gifted.
Knowing that no harm would come to Mel while Spitfire slept on top of him, Ark turned and allowed himself to fall asleep.
Ark had questions. With the white marks growing up a lock of Melmarc’s hair, Uncle Dorthna’s statement of it being a good sign, and Spitfire sleeping on top of Mel, it was only fair that he had questions.
So, as sleep took him, Ark wondered if something was currently happening to his brother.
Comments
JaceNight
I have so many questions for this story. When do the answers start coming? I like the pacing of the chapters and the fleshing out of the characters but it still feels so long.
