Brent Stinebaker
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II-80 The Unseen Variables
🕑 Added 2025-03-22 09:12:39 +0000 UTCIt’s important to keep your plans flexible, but to prepare for everything. If your plans are stone solid and have no room for adjustment, well then, things are going to get really, really bad for you, in very short order. No one is obliged to play to your plans.
In the Claimed Hells, everyone has plans of their own. And with the amount of people living here, well, they clash together, they intersect. And after they do, they collapse. Like a cascade of bullshit.
With preparation though, you’ll have everything you need, everyone you need, and you can adapt on the fly. Versatility with reliable resources, that should be your motto.
-John Bishop, Trespasser
II-80
The Unseen Variables
“Bishop, we have a problem here as well,” Wei said. He stared at the doorway as more messages filtered into his mind. Apparently, Lein the Last was coming to greet him. She was insistent that the old man take him to where Way was currently meditating, for formal introductions to be done. And, as with all things, status, position, and—above all—martial power decided what one could agree or reject. “Lein is coming to see me. I don’t have very long. I will try to find a way to break contact, and…”
“No, you stay there,” Bishop interrupted the young master’s considerations. “We don’t need to draw any more attention to us. Suspicions are gonna be flying around anyway. And, if I’m the Collectress, you’d be one of the people she’s looking at. We get you tied up on Lein, and that’s a good thing. It gives us a means of, uh, deniability.”
“But what about Aerea?” Wei pressed.
“I’ll find a way,” Bishop replied. His mind turned back to William, who was currently trying to take apart the strange, mystical explosive the Collectress had Aerea rigged to. She didn’t look good. Her face was pale, and a permanent mat of sweat dotted her forehead. Her hair was short and dark. Her eyes were gleaming, despite being onyx black. And though the robes that clothed her were of the finest cerulean blue, her pregnancy was noticeable. If Bishop was one to judge, she was due any day now. “God damn it,” Bishop muttered under his breath. “I guess it’s gonna be one of them days.”
“Yeah, you can say that again, John,” William muttered. “The bomb is a complicated piece of work. It’s like a spiderweb. You trip one, you trip them all. You try to disable one, and the tether will fall on another; they’re all so fragile that if something unlatches, boom—two. She’s… well, she’d spend a lot of time on this. Fuck, does no one have any normals hobbies anymore?”
“Missed your bitching, Willy,” Bishop said with a tone of nostalgia. It was probably the most endearing trait about his friend, aside from his willingness to shoot just about anyone or screw over anyone for an easy win. Then again, William wasn’t that endearing a person.
Still, even as he complained, he tried to solve the issue.
“Is someone there?” Aerea asked, her eyes blinking. She looked tired and disoriented. All this stress must be bad for her body. For a moment, a pang of genuine animal worry passed through Bishop. People shouldn’t be doing this to pregnant women and children. But then he remembered where he was, what he was doing, and all the things he had done to those who didn’t deserve it. And he was himself again.
“Relax,” William said in an cold voice. “I’m going to try to figure out how to get you out of this before I trip something and we both blow up.”
Aerea coughed. “Vendrian, is that you?” she asked, though it was clear she was hallucinating as well. Things kept getting better and better. Her spirit was fluctuating, and her condition was getting more dubious by the second. Bishop noticed how large her pupils are, the way her body was flushing with heat. She was drugged too. Shit.
“No, afraid not,” William replied. “All right, Bishop. I think I have an idea.”
“Yeah, what’s that? You’re going to try to steal the essence out of the canisters, make sure they don’t pop?”
William chuckled. “How did you know that?”
We’ve worked together for centuries, William. I know pretty much everything you’re going to do.”
“Yeah, except when I do something stupid.”
“Except when you do something stupid,” Bishop agreed. “Like running off to another world after two-timing the Harbinger with the Dying Queen and then two-timing her with God knows who.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop chewing me out about that. I get it. Now, are you going to help me with this or what?”
“Fine, what do you need?”
A pulse of Essence and a shift in spatial magics pulled at Bishop’s awareness. He might only be partially rooted within William’s body, but he knew they had just passed through another portal. And, morosely, he was feeling a larger signature pressed down on William. An incredible power was drawing closer. No, not one, but two. It didn’t take much deducing to guess who those were.
“We also don’t have much time,” Bishop said. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to do something meticulous. Don’t got the time to be delicate or patient.”
William cursed under his breath. “Well, if I can’t do something meticulous, then we might have to just steal the entire carriage.” Both Trespassers paused.
“Well, I do still have control over some of the rifts,” Bishop noted.
“Right,” William trailed off. “Are you thinking about what I’m thinking? What, that we—uh—control one of the coming rifts so that you pass back out of her nest into whatever hellscape they came in from?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking about leading through the Base.”
“Where the war is,” Bishop said, his voice rising with worry.
“Yeah, where the war is,” William agreed. “But it’s also easy to get lost there. Lots of chaos. Lots of shit. Easy to go missing in the trenches. It’s risky, but… Collectress doesn’t seem like the type to risk herself on a battlefield. And all that combat, all that conflict, all that no man’s land stuff might just be useful.”
“Useful?” Bishop laughed in disbelief. “You’re still a crazy motherfucker, William.”
“Yeah?” Well, right back at you, John, because you’re going to help me.”
***
Shadow and light pulsed at the core of a radiant vortex. Celestial flames collapsed back into the form of a glaive, and Wei reached out, seizing his Eidolon before pushing himself to a stand. He shrugged off the lethargy that gnawed at his body. Rendering himself down to 20% of his total Source always felt like a dismemberment, but it was necessary to have him move from place to place.
“Wei, what’s happening? The demons—they’ve gone berserk.” Agnesia’s message filtered into his mind the moment he returned. The young master sighed.
“Agnesia, hold in place. Do not draw attention to yourself. Remember, you were attacked but managed to ward off the assailant. That is why you suffered an encounter. It is a believable story. Right now, we have other issues.”
“Other issues?” Agnesia asked. “What other issues?”
“Lein the Last. She’s coming for me.” A moment’s pause followed.
“Who is Lein the Last?”
“A Duchess of Pride,” Wei replied. “Not looking forward to this encounter. But I killed her child, and I fear this isn’t a debt I can avoid paying?”
“Ignium… But then what about—about Aerea? About the extraction?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure my father and Bishop will come up with something.” Another pause followed. “I hope.”
“You hope?” Agnesia said, her voice high with disbelief.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Wei snapped. “I will try to return somehow, as soon as I can. But right now, you hold in position and maybe help the demons.”
“Help the demons?” Her voice turned incredulous. “You mean help them fry some poor peasant who’s rebelling?”
Wei considered that, and his expression darkened. “Yes, that might be a good idea. It will make you seem like a reliable ally and take suspicion off of you.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re suggesting this.”
“Well, alternatively, they die worthless, hopeless deaths and suffer violently. And then you have another conversation with the Collectress—she’ll interrogate you on everything you know and maybe try to mentally probe you.” His patience waned. “I will do what I can, but right now, you must ensure your own safety. Frankly, you’re probably safer there than I am here.”
A knock sounded on his door. Wei gripped his glaive tighter.
“Master Wei,” a demon said with a voice high and lyrical, “your presence is requested by the Count.”
The young master clenched his teeth. “I must go now, Agnesia. Take care of yourself. Do not let anyone harm you. I command it.”
This time, her message was prompt. “You command it. You command me to not let anyone harm me?”
“Yes,” Wei said, without a hint of irony, “if you allow this, if you disobey me, I will be very upset with you.”
She sent him a laugh. “Fine. But Wei—”
“I know,” he interjected, “I will take care of your mother.”
“No, you must take care of yourself. I will not see you harmed either, or it will displease me as Crown Princess of Dawnrest.”
Wei blinked. He wasn’t expecting that reversal, but he supposed it was appropriate—nobility had a right to demand. He shook his head; he didn’t have time to dig into the semantics of who could order whom to do what.
He stepped out, pushing open the door, and regarded the demon—a towering form created from solid gold that looked down at him, its body looming and gleaming. Wei gave his attendant a nod. “Fine then, return me to the Count. Who am I to disobey my host’s wishes?”
He was quickly led back across the winding hallways to the place where he had first arrived. He noted, with a mix of resignation and anxiety, that the Mansion of Pride was a mess of shifting corridors and strange geometries, much like so many other places in the Claimed Hells. Yet, it only made his anxiety rise. His Omniscience revealed countless crowds standing in ramp silence—each clustered together in their own cliques, all staring at the hallway he was supposed to emerge from, all waiting in anticipation as if he were walking to the gallows for an execution. These spectators yearned to witness a bloodletting or some sort of show; everything here was a marriage of theater and bloodshed.
As he finally emerged, Wei kept his head held high, showing no hint of fear, though he took in the gazes of countless sinners around him. Some seemed to pity him; others looked rapturous and lustful, as if what would befall him would delight their darker kinks. In the far distance, he saw the dice—he saw where the old man was, where his sect stood, and Ellena beside him. But more than that, he saw Lein the Last for the first time.
Gods, the Duchess was a giantess—among the strangest and most imposing figures he had seen. He had faced bigger foes, like hydras and dragons, but her essence—my god—it wasn’t the feeling of a mountain. It was a spiked, jagged cluster driving into his own spirit over and over. He felt her. He sensed her burning, staring at him. And he felt a burning agony from what seemed like a massive pillar—or rather, a lance that she wielded.
“Please, free us, pain, pain!” The lyrics of agony sang from the lance, and Wei shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
“Do not let her rattle you,” his Shell intoned, manifesting just behind him. “She is here to test your mettle. We both know that no overt violence can happen without legal representation or agreement. Whatever she does, it will not be direct.”
Wei swallowed and nodded. Yes, of course—he simply needed to move with care. His journey back to the old man’s dice occurred under a veil of quietude and constant observation. No one made a single comment. Around him, he felt the rapid, clustered heartbeats of countless sinners, all waiting to see what might happen.
As he finally drew close, he faced the last without a hint of fear in his eyes, but he read tension and worry in Ellena’s expression. His sect, too, looked tense, as if preparing for battle. He climbed the steps and, coming to a halt before aligning the last, a pang of misery struck him. I need to get a height modification. Why is she so tall? What was the point of her pointless size? He looked up, craning his neck to stare at her helmet.
Lein, for her part, simply leaned against her lance and stared down at the young master. Her armor—slender, edged, and wickedly sharp along every contour—gleamed menacingly. “So, you’re the one who murdered my son,” she declared.
Wei offered her a salute. “He had fought, perhaps not well, but bravely. He had done all he could. If it is financial decompensation you desire—”
“Mm, we don’t reward failure here. But you—you did not fight poorly. And you drove him to the brink of madness. And he slew himself in failure. He embarrassed himself facing you. And you didn’t even get an Essence advancement, did you. From what I heard, he didn’t strain your capability in any way.”
Her voice was thin and measured. Soft too, for a creature of violence and bloodshed. Worst of all was her lack of passion. It was like a cock fighter talking about an underperforming rooster getting sold rather than a mother who lost their son to a rival.
“No,” Wei replied, choosing truth over a convenient lie. “His spirit, however—”
“Does not matter. We do not reward based on intent either. We reward for results offered. For feats and achievements and titles. Achievements like slaying a Countess while you are but a Marquis…”
Wei stared up at Lein’s helmet, and found himself bothered by the design. He focused on her forehead, but the metal was so polished he could only see his own face. A face that resembled his father.
“Such a pathetic thing, don’t you agree,” she continued. “Would you claim he defended my honor? Against his father? Against you? Would you accept this performance from your child, cultivator?”
The young master drew in a sharp breath. “No. But I wouldn’t accept a son so feeble in the first place.”
His answer was honest, prompt, and the Old Man made a choking noise. Several other Sinners broke into scandalous whispers. Lein went still.
Wei prepared himself for an onslaught of anger—for anything. What she said next surprised him utterly.
“I commend you for it. He was always a problem child, always a disappointment. Perhaps it’s time for me to replace what is lost with something worthy of keeping. How would you like to be adopted? Wei An Wei, I understand that you are an orphan now. It seems we both have a vacant spot in our lives that needs filling.”
“I… what?” Wei choked.
Comments
Brent Stinebaker
New chapter soon; things have been a little rough recently.
Jeremy Russell
The ol’ bait and switch 😂
