DarkTechnomancer
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My Own Worst Enemy 31 - Some Habits Are Beaten In Too Deeply
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 17:27:59 +0000 UTCEven though I’ve been in the city for a few days now, this is only the second time I’ve had a chance to get a look at it. The streets are lined with lampposts with a similar design to the sconces in the cave just outside of the convergence point. It’s pretty distinct, with the glowing mana crystal held in place by a thick cast-iron cage.
“How do you change the crystals in those lamps?” I ask curiously.
Talla and Draga are both with me as we make our way to the ranger HQ. The city is big and it’s a pretty long walk, but I actually appreciate the chance to stretch my legs.
“You don’t,” Draga answers. “The crystals last a very long time and it’s cheaper to replace the entire lamppost when they expire rather than try to deal with people stealing them.”
“Even with the crystals totally embedded like that, people still try,” Talla adds. “Some places grease the poles or post guards to keep people off of them.”
“They’re that valuable?”
Talla frowns. “It’s not necessarily a matter of value,” she says. “They are expensive, but even if you can afford it, most people simply can’t buy them.”
“Is it...?” I trail off, looking for the Fa’aun word for “regulation” before giving up. “Illegal?”
She shakes her head. “No—well, it is if it’s for the sale or manufacture of alchemical arms, but otherwise the problem is that only the Alchemist knows how to produce them.”
“And he’s very selective about his clients,” Draga adds. “There’s a small underground market for mana crystals, but not many people know how to repurpose them either. Even if someone did manage to pry one out of a lamppost, it would be worthless to them.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Then why do they try?”
“Desperation, mostly,” Draga sighs.
“They don’t know any better,” Talla adds. “Plus, if anybody did manage to reverse engineer them, they’d be able to break the Alchemist’s monopoly. Mother’s been trying for years to get him to share...anything, really. But to no avail—he’s very secretive.”
“That sounds very suspicious,” Violet mutters. “What is he hiding?”
“You mean aside from trade secrets on the cutting edge of modern technology?” Maggie asks sarcastically. “I’d hide myself away too.”
“You’d do that anyway,” Vi retorts.
“Yeah, well. Shut up.”
Ignoring their bickering about why for a moment, I do wonder how he manages that.
“There’s never been a successful spy?” I ask. “That seems hard for a whole industry.”
“He outsources all of his manufacturing,” Talla explains. “The Alchemist himself doesn’t make the lamps, the arms, or the vehicles. Just the crystals, all of which are purpose-made. The only commercial product he actually makes entirely on his own are the tinctures.”
“Which must be why they’re so expensive,” I conclude.
“Uh huh,” she confirms. “Every dose is hand made and personalized. I would never have taken one of Kiera’s potions if it wasn’t an emergency, and even then only because we have similar expressions of magical strain. You really shouldn’t have taken it, for all the reasons we’ve already gone over.”
Namely my much smaller body mass, different species, and Maggie’s positive expression of strain.
“It fucking worked, though,” Maggie recalls. “We have never had a buzz like that and my magic was supercharged.”
“You also went completely crazy and nearly got us all killed,” I mutter. “You did—” I stop myself short of accusing her of killing Saban. That wouldn’t be fair. “We crashed pretty hard after that, too. I don’t think it was healthy.”
“Maybe not, but damn did it feel good at the time.”
That’s the scariest part. I wasn’t even in front much during that, but I can still remember the rush. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to feel that again, and that’s terrifying. I had one dose almost a month ago and I’m thinking this hard about how tempting it would be to try again at the mere mention of it.
“No, it wasn’t,” Talla replies, snapping me out of my reverie. “Which is why you don’t blindly take other people’s tinctures.”
“There...is an underground market for them,” Draga grunts uncomfortably. “It’s not illegal, but the Alchemist doesn’t sell them for recreational use and cuts off anybody he suspects of reselling them.”
Gah, don’t tell me that now! I sigh and try to put the thought out of my mind, changing the subject.
“Is there anything I should know about Lady Faarah?” I ask. “Like, etiquette or how I should address her?”
I already got caught off guard by Erik, and even if only the nobles take the introduction ritual super seriously, I still want to keep it in mind when meeting new people.
“She’s very direct,” Talla says. “Try not to mince words with her, if you can help it.”
“She prefers not to use her noble title,” Draga adds. “Just call her Faarah Foren during introductions and Faarah or Miss Faarah after that.”
“Says the guy who calls her ‘Lady Faarah’ every single time,” Talla teases.
“Some habits are beaten in too deeply to change, even if I know better,” he replies with a shrug.
“You never use my title,” she pouts. “Except sarcastically.”
“That’s different. You’re my subordinate. I have to fight against your deeply ingrained habits, not mine.”
A lot of history there, it sounds like.
“How long have you two been working together, anyway?” I ask.
“Two years,” Draga replies. “Practically an eternity by ranger standards.”
“Really?” Talla asks. “It feels like it’s been longer.”
Like that, we make our way through the city, making small talk as Talla points out various landmarks. One in particular grabs my attention.
“We won’t be going through the temple district, but from here you can see the cathedral tower,” Talla explains, pointing out a spire poking out above the surrounding buildings in the distance. “It’s both the tallest and oldest building in the city.”
“My home...” Evelyn mutters.
She’s been pretty quiet since we got to the city, barely interacting at all outside of her lessons, and even then only doing the bare minimum.
“Do you want to visit it if we get the chance?” I ask.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Maggie interjects. “Especially if they’re trying to kill or kidnap us.”
“I hate to say it, but I think I agree,” Vi sighs. “We should avoid the church if we can help it.”
I purse my lips in a slight frown. They’re not wrong, but if Evie is feeling down, I’d like to be able to do something for her. Besides, a public visit shouldn’t be that dangerous, and I’d really like to see it for myself.
“I have faith that the church has not been corrupted,” Evie hisses bitterly. “But I...don’t know if I want to see it.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“...”
She stays completely silent, and when it becomes clear that she doesn’t intend to answer, I let it go, turning instead to Talla.
“You said there’s a whole temple district?” I ask. “I thought that there was just one state religion.”
“You underestimate just how much goes into running an organization like the church,” Talla says. “The cathedral itself isn’t nearly large enough for all the different sects and branches, not to mention the office of the inquisition, and more recently the serpentfolk have carved out a niche for their Ringward denomination. The church even has its own separate bank to manage the institution’s finances.”
Actually, none of that comes as a surprise to me, but I wanted to test the waters to see how she’d react to the expectation of other religions. The fact that they have an inquisition is a bit troubling, and I’m trying to get a feel for the balance of power.
“I’m shocked that those heretical snakes are allowed to slither freely in the streets,” Evelyn chimes in. “If they’ve been allowed to build shrines to their false idol, then things have gotten even worse than I thought.”
See, that’s more along the lines of what I was worried about. I’m not sure whether Talla is listening in with her spell at the moment, but internalized racism aside, I am curious about the scaled minority.
“The serpentfolk worship a different deity?” I ask, leaving the question open for either of the religious experts to answer.
“Not quite,” Talla answers first. “They still revere the Goddess, but they believe that the Great Wheel is actually the Great Road—a pathway that leads dead souls into a utopian afterlife at her side, free of the World Engine.”
“Blasphemy,” Evie spits. “The dead are returned to become one with the Goddess.”
Gonna go ahead and refrain from commenting on the fact that she’s a ghost. She’s probably already rationalized that somehow and it wouldn’t be productive.
“It’s probably because you can’t see the curve of the wheel from the Blessed Lands—their homeland—but most don’t change their view after moving antiringward. It’s always been a source of tension, but after the war the inquisition decided to recognize them as a legitimate sect.”
Huh—wait, hold on a sec!
“Is that why you said the name of the Great Road was distasteful?”
Talla winces. “Yeah...it was named before the war. Between the name and the fact that it runs perpendicular to their Great Road, it was a deliberate provocation.”
“There have been petitions to rename it,” Draga adds. “But it hasn’t picked up much attention outside of serpentfolk communities.”
Okay, distasteful because it’s an attack on the other religion, not because it’s a reference to it. Whew, it’s hard to keep track of all the biases and discrimination. I’m trying really hard to keep an open mind and avoid being judgmental, but holy cow is it tough. I thought I was ready for it, but the culture shock is hitting harder than expected.
“Anyway, this is it,” Draga says, directing my attention to a two-story building that blends into the sandstone construction around it.
The area we’re in seems to be a commercial district, with a lot of the buildings here marked by bright signage or even operating store fronts that open directly into the street. The rangers’ building has its own sign, but otherwise doesn’t match my mental image for the headquarters of a powerful paramilitary organization.
“I thought it would be bigger,” I comment lamely.
“We have other buildings,” Talla explains. “It’s cheaper to have several smaller spaces rather than a single central location, and the order is spread out into chapters across the empire.”
It’s probably less intimidating to have their forces spread out, too. Easier to tolerate a scattered group of small teams rather than an entire army.
“Come on,” Draga says, ushering us inside.
A doorman inside greets Draga and Talla, and pretty much ignores me as we make our way inside. The entire first floor aside from that small foyer is taken up by one huge open space, with ranger teams sitting in cushioned depressions and chatting in hushed tones. Most of them are men, and dressed in cheap and simple clothing that does little to hide the criss-crossing network of scars where their fur no longer grows.
Most ignore us as we enter, but one team stands out from the others on account of being better dressed and led by a woman with white fur. She approaches us almost as soon as we walk in, her entourage following close behind.
“Finally decided to show your face, cousin?” she sneers, skipping the usual introduction. “I’m surprised you haven’t hanged yourself from embarrassment yet.”
Before Talla can reply, the woman turns her attention to me, crossing her arms and fixing me with a judgmental glare.
“This is the creature my sister was so fascinated by?” she scoffs. “Some pathetic furless troglodyte?”
I keep my face neutral as a bunch of disparate pieces click together in my head. Obviously this is Mira, Talla’s former boss, but I can do better than that. There’s only so many people her “sister” could possibly be, and I remember Talla being a bit cagey about how easily she recognized Maari back in Sagaasi. It’s a bit of a gamble, but if I’m right then I can put this brat on the back hoof.
Let’s see if all this time I’ve spent cramming on Fa’aun language and culture pays off.
Though I was planning on saving it for the grandmistress, I bust out my best bow—something I’ve been working on the last couple of days. I can’t perfectly replicate the Fa’aun duck-nod, but with the right combination of bending at the waist and pushing my head forward, I can roughly match the arc of movement without totally straining my neck.
As I make the gesture, I very carefully enunciate my words, speaking in a formal tone. “Lady M’ira’a Sha’a Ba’an’u. I am in your family’s debt. Your sister treated me with grace enough for both of you.”
She smirks coldly. “Well, aren’t you a well trained pet?” she drawls, stepping closer. “But it seems like somebody was too busy teaching you etiquette to instill any proper manners.”
I furrow my brow, about to ask what she means, when her hand lashes out almost too fast for me to react. The blow lands right on my temple, and I try to lean into the momentum to cushion the impact. That effort is in vain, however, as I misjudge just how much force she’s putting into it, cuffing me across the head so hard that I go tumbling across the floor and slam into a wall.
Sprawled out on the ground and clutching my head in pain, it’s hard to keep track of what happens next. Nipper is already slithering out from beneath my cloak, and I have to reach out with a trembling hand to stop him before he goes and gets himself killed trying to defend me.
There’s shouting, but I can’t make any of it out over the ringing in my ears, and my vision is filled with nothing but stars and blurs—my glasses having gone flying off somewhere during my tumble.
Then, I feel a momentary wave of pressure that nearly causes me to lose my lunch and the entire room goes silent. My hearing returns along with the familiar warmth of Talla’s healing magic as somebody—Draga, I think—hands me my glasses back. Thankfully undamaged.
I’m not sure what to make of the scene that I’m met with when I replace them. Mira’s team has moved in front of her, though their postures aren’t threatening and she makes no move to push past them. Talla and Draga kneel by my side and Nipper is wrapped around my arm, rearing up at Mira and hissing silently.
At the foot of the stairs, an unfamiliar woman stares daggers at Mira, who ignores it to sneer down at me instead.
“Consider yourself educated, troglodyte,” she hisses. “Disrespect me again and I’ll kill you where you stand.”
With that, she turns away and sweeps out of the building, her lackeys following close behind.
“I’m so sorry,” Talla whispers as she and Draga help me to my feet. “I should have warned you about how touchy she can be.”
Draga gives me a lopsided smile, his tone sardonic. “Welcome to the Stebaari Order of Rangers.”
Comments
Kennyevilmonkey
Someone is about to become Nipper food.
Azgaroth
Thank for the chapter. Can't wait for the momnt "Maev" do remind Mira of her place....
