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ER: Chapter 42 - Deephorn
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 10:43:18 +0000 UTCDay 65, 8:45 PM
The dead town’s council sure is taking their sweet time reaching a decision. Especially considering their choices are to gamble on what some might view as heretics or to die.
I can see fatalistic fanatics choosing the latter over the former, but I don’t think people abandoned by the church would have all that many fanatics. Fatalists, on the other hand…
The inside of the stone guardhouse is surprisingly homey and warm, both courtesy of the fire dancing and crackling in the corner. Lucy and Gila are working their fingers, trying to reach level eight. The foreign space and dozens of strangers monitoring us make them too embarrassed to sing the dirge of the drowned dead climbing up to dance in the stars.
A thought strikes me.
“Hey, Edna, does that melody evoke an image in your mind?”
She nods. “It tells me of ascension from a deep pit. It reminds me of a mage specializing in shaping earth from my youth. He once opened a fissure miles wide, which swallowed countless aberrations. The melody brings back to mind how they struggled to climb out before the earth closed and buried them.”
“Can you do something like that?”
“Yes,” hesitation seeps into her voice as she drags the word, “and no. I can make a fissure, but I can’t match the scale at which he could manipulate the elements, earth in particular. Mages have access to skills which allow us to convert other types of mana in our surroundings or our bodies into the one we have the most affinity for. For me that is green, for him it was red. I think that with Initial Mana Ambivalence you will have an ability to distribute mana evenly throughout your body, while Advanced Mana Ambivalence combined with the other option should, in theory, change the outer mana to match that of your spell.”
That’s neat and interesting. Also, it tells me that while the fissure which I will one day make will be larger than Edna’s, it probably won’t reach the size of the one her deceased friend used to make a century or two ago. At least that should be the case if skills are the only deciding factor in casting spells.
A soft knock came on the door. I glance towards it, but Edna doesn’t shift an inch. She knew they were coming.
“Griff, you and your honorable friends are welcome in Deephorn.” Eliesandra, who sounds much more like Elie right now, opens the door, water torrenting all around her as if someone’s pouring it from a bucket.
I can’t believe trees are fighting over every drop of this infinite bounty.
“Thank you for your welcome, Elisandra.” I give her a slight, statesman’s bow. “We would like to help your community with the most burning problems you have in exchange for food, lodgings, and possibly other goods and services, depending on the type of problems you’re facing.”
“Please, call me Elie.” She smiles at me, and Edna prickles up.
She’s outside my field of view, but the air definitely grew heavier behind me, and the hackles on the back of my neck stand straight. Is she jealous?
Whatever the case, we will deal with it later, or she’ll pretend nothing happened. Right now, the most important matter is to be amiable.
“Thank you, Elie.” The sense of doom approaches. “What would the next steps be? We can prove our sincerity now, if that is what you require, but we would prefer working during the day. Maybe you could tell us about your situation, so we can find the best solution for the problems plaguing your castle.”
“Naturally, naturally.” Elie laughs. “Follow me, we have plenty of empty houses. A bunch of people moved away with the inquisitors a year ago, only the most persistent have stayed behind to guard our ancestral home.”
Elie leads the way into the castle, explaining the gist of the situation. The town was never as prosperous as Tallrock, but last year around twenty-five hundred residents left, following the priests’ pious speech of retreating for the sake of reconnecting with the territory later.
That left fifty-five hundred remaining residents rather bitter. It was obvious they were being abandoned. At best, priests were trying to save as many lives as possible, at worst they were leading a herd of easily manipulated slaves and laborers because they would need them later. Elie’s brother left, taking his children and grandchildren with him, making Elie quite angry.
I can tell she was still angry with him, but I chose not to make any comments. ‘We each bear the weight of our decisions,’ isn’t what she wants to hear. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wants me to call her brother gullible, stupid, or throw a minor insult his way, but that might make her stand up for him, and I’m not playing that game.
The castle itself is once more carved of stone, rain assailing it, and an intricate system of pipes and drains spews most of it outside the castle to feed the giant lake at the base of the cliff. We walk the mostly dry streets of the fantasy communist dystopia, heading for the central administrative building, which is what Elie called the town hall.
The town’s dignitaries wait for us there, there are seven of them, including Elie. Three men and four women, all over forty years of age, some well over. They give us their names, their hands humbly clasped before them, fear in most of their eyes, but not in their voices, nor in their bearing. They are people used to making a strong front, regardless of the situation. I speak polite greetings to reassure them, afraid Edna might make a comment which would sour the atmosphere.
“Honorable mages,” Harlos, the eldest man with a white beard and slightly murky eyes void of fear says. “I would like to host you in my inn and shop, if you don’t mind. Tomorrow, you may search for a place which suits your tastes better, but a clean and warm shelter should be the best place to spend the night.”
I’m tempted to ask Harlos whether he has giant roaches in the cellar, instead I offer him my thanks while minding Blunt for any outbursts. Elie joins him, and the two of them lead us down the street before we reach an elongated barracks large enough to fit several hundred people.
Harlos opens the door, revealing a pleasantly warm common room with six massive wooden tables. A fire burns in the fireplace, and a young woman is wiping the tables.
“Millie,” Harlos starts and stops before turning towards me. “Excuse me, honored mage, how do you wish to sleep?”
Now that is a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. One I have no idea how to answer. Asking for four single-bed rooms is the best solution, but it would leave us too exposed for a night attack, should the townsfolk decide to kill us. If we take two two-bed rooms, more awkward questions may crop up. And if all three girls share a room, I fear Edna might eat them.
“A single four-bed bedroom, if you have one.” That seems like the best choice, and Harlos nods.
“I have a six-bed bedroom. Will that do?”
“That sounds perfect.” I can make a bed fortress in a corner to keep myself safe.
“Can we have a bathtub and hot water?” Gila asks in a voice full of forced cheeriness and genuine eagerness.
Harlos nods. “I will make the arrangements. Do you need anything else?”
“A warm meal would be nice if you have something.” I say out of reflex, my mind still mulling over that tub. “And a screen for privacy for the person taking a bath.”
Edna didn’t have a tub at her place, she cleaned herself with magic, but both the girls and I must reek. Especially me, after spending days slaying minor abominations every hour or two. I dare not imagine how horrible I would be in a world void of continuous free showers.
Harlos gestures towards the tables and tells Millie to prepare a room for us, while he heads over to the kitchen.
I take a step towards the tables, but Elie speaks.
“I leave you in capable hands. Harlos is an excellent host and a skilled cook. I’m going back to the wall, but we will talk more tomorrow morning. Have a good night and rest well.”
I give her the shallow bow, and she leaves, the girls bidding her goodbye. The only one silent is Edna. Ever since we set foot into the castle, she’s been observing everything with a neutral expression, never saying a word.
I can only hope she’s evaluating the town and its people, rather than brooding in jealousy.
We sit, and the girls resume their finger-flicking. I have enough experience to offer advice whenever I realize what they are doing wrong, but generally, Edna is less invested in them than she was in teaching me.
“I have recalled a spell which will let you level up.” She finally says. “I’ll teach you tomorrow.”
The spell in question has to rely almost exclusively on outer mana, meaning the inner mana I invest should be minimal while I rely on mana manipulation to make things work.
I nod in acknowledgement as Harlos approaches, carrying four wooden bowls with spoons. He sets them in front of each of us, then heads to the kitchen before returning with a steaming clay pot.
He sets it at the center of the table, along with a large wooden ladle.
“Enjoy your meal, it’s humble but refreshing, and it will warm you up.”
He leaves, and I fill my plate. I don’t know what the ingredients are, and I don’t want to know.
It looks like carrots, potatoes, and chicken. I resolve myself that they are carrots, potatoes, and chicken, so I can enjoy a hearty meal.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter! Edna falling in love or crushing on Griff would likely only lead to heartbreaking for any of those very beautiful and talented ladies... And it's a damn shame too would be some very interested story lines there. But that would in turn hurt the other bigger storyline or maybe I'm wrong and Griff forgets Manuela in a few years and makes a harem of 50 hot immortal mages lmao (I find this unlikely enough to be very funny XD).
