Lars Machmüller
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Theft of Decks 4, CH 47
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 10:00:03 +0000 UTC“I tested it earlier today. It worked. Of course, I told nobody what was going on, and there will be a few adjustments needed. The deaths were few in number, though. Another iteration or two, and I will be safe from any treason from my Keepers.” Stop! Bloody! Alluding to it! I… I will return to reading later. (Book 3, Page 58.)
The ensuing discussion was harsh, but short. Within a few minutes, they had to agree. Even though the timing was horrid, even if they’d made so much progress, and the Lightborn had few proper defenses left, there was no way they would be able to stand up to an army that was several times larger. They had been fortunate to be able to take out the casters, summoners, and even the inquisitors among their number the first time around. Now that the enemy was wise to their strategies, they would drown in numbers and overwhelmed if they tried to repeat the success.
Instead, they considered what they could do. That took a while longer. The main issue they had was the lack of mobility. Everything needed to happen right now, and they would honestly be best of if they were able to be in three different places all at once.
Eventually, they agreed to dividing the workload. Chase would activate Fight another Day and run as fast as he could to the nearest Keeper where he’d inform those back in Salvation what was happening. Meanwhile, Kith would split his attention, having Radine scouting the incoming armies, at the same time that he would have the chariot circle the original army. That way, the others would be able to unleash everything they had, paring down enemy numbers before reinforcements arrived. They harbored few illusions that they would be able to finish off a lot of them, or end some of the important figures, in time – still, it felt like the best of a number of bad options. They might get lucky and end that damn Euronimous, or the archbishop.
Chase ran off. They others relaxed for a few hours still, trying to recuperate their energy before they would leap straight back into violence. Around them, the world seemed to move past whatever advantages they managed to carve out for themselves. Soon, the battles reengaged.
In the dead of night, Chase stumbled back into their camp. Panting and sweating, his legs kept moving, bringing him halfway past the huge circle of long grass trodden down underfoot. He stopped and nearly fell, before catching himself, swaying on his feet, looking off into the distance.
At the far side of the dark camp, Liam stared at him, truncheon raised threateningly before letting it fall. “Pits. Chase, you look rough! What happened?” He squinted, then added. “We weren’t expecting you for at least six hours.”
Chase blinked and rubbed his face. “I decided to make it back here six hours faster, that’s what happened.” He laughed softly, before indicating the rest of the large circle. They had their original number, all impressively still alive. Only, now, their number had been increased manyfold by a lot of sleeping figures. Primarily Lightborn, the newcomers looked like crap, and slept where they lay, most of them dead to the world. A few stared at Chase nervously, while others simply stared off into the night with dead eyes. He waved at those who looked coherent.
“Oh. Yeah. That’s Kith’s doing.” Liam said.
“Again now?”
“Well.” Liam cleared his throat. “I agreed with him. Turns out, once Radine started scouting, Kith found out that most of the indebted hadn’t made it too far from the army.” He shrugged. “Lost in a hostile land that’s mostly a myth to you. What are you to do? So, Kith decided that he should send Raudt and Svart touring those closest to us, talk to them through the shades and convince them to join us.”
Chase grimaced. It was the right thing to do. Of course it was. He’d told as much to the Keeper, informing those back in the capital that they were to keep an eye out for, and rescue, any stray Lightborn wandering the lands lost. However, it also saddled them with new responsibilities – right this moment being about a hundred indebted, all recently escaped from slavery, likely suffering from malnourishment along with any number of other ills. Yeah. That wasn’t likely to end well for anybody. “How did you do? With the fighting, I mean?”
“So so. Our summons were able to do some damage to their regular troops. So were the casters. That horrible poison cloud was nasty enough that the archbishop had to step in.” Liam looked into the distance, where the Lightborn army was likely to be resting. “It’s a damn shame. Give us a week, and we’d have been able to grind them down, I’m sure. We could have ended them before they ever made it to Salvation.”
Chase winced. “I know. I told the Keeper as much. There’s nothing for it. We’ve done all we can. For now, we’ve got our orders. The three of us will be taking the chariot back with anybody who’s made it to a higher Tier and can get new cards. Meanwhile, the rest will be guiding the poor indebted back to Salvation – with us out in front, they won’t get attacked. Where’s Radine right now?”
“She’s off.” Liam said. “Kith sent her with a message to the Furyborn Elders before going to sleep. Don’t worry. We had Gavin go through it, so it made sense. Yet, we figured they’d need to know immediately. Likely, they won’t be able to reach us in time to do anything about the reinforcing armies – but at the very least, they should be able to intercept any further armies. Tatiana might be able to make some waves to make sure they don’t start conscripting even more armies in the future.” Liam sighed, letting his gaze slide over the indebted sprawled everywhere. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ll be joining the indebted here as well. The poor bastards right here need somebody who looks like them and know what they’ve been through. Besides, I’m not Tier five yet.” He smiled at Chase. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it back to fight with you before the army arrives.”
“I don’t like it. We’re already split up. Now you want to split our numbers even further?”
“Oh, stop it.” Liam shot him a lopsided grin. “Like anybody’s going to be able to take me on. Besides. I can take the time to beat some spirit into all these people. Might be they’ll even be some help. For now, though? Catch some winks. The chariot won’t be available for at least a handful of hours anyway.”
Chase grimaced, but acquiesced. He unfurled his own bed roll and fell asleep in minutes.
Their return travels were swift. The weather was lovely, and the travels easy. A few hours saw them to one of the main roads throughout Liberty lands, and from there on, they sped up a lot. Even so, the atmosphere was tense, and their conversations were stilted and testy.
The entire situation was a mess. There were no obvious solutions to their plight, and all their allies were far away. Now, all threads were starting to pull together, indicating a showdown in Salvation. But they weren’t ready. A year. Half a year even, would’ve seen them strengthened and ready for an assault of this kind, with an operable government and a cohesive army of Liberators holding cards from all five decks. Now… they were being pushed back on all fronts. Something would have to give.”
***
Salvation. Crafting square. Cilia.
“Why have you not invited me here before?” Nordon’s boisterous voice cut across the chatter in the tent. “This place is bustling.”
“Nordon.” Cilia nodded, her eyes not leaving the nervous man in front of her. “Listen, Baeric, I need this leather. As much of it as you can get. The natural resilience of the material bonds with Air in a manner I’ve never seen before!” She tapped the leather on the table.
“I will give you everything we have, Mind Cil-Sorry. Cilia. It is not easy to get, though. Bruise-buck leather is typically only granted to Hearts and above. They repel liquids, and…” He trailed off, as he saw Cilia’s glare.
“Baeric. Let me make this exquisitely clear to you.” She dropped the leather and locked eyes with the Tier three, like a rat freezing before the gaze of a snake. “If you get me a hundred pounds of this material, I might be able to create a knockback droplet that can save hundreds of lives when the Lightborn army comes rushing in. If it stays right where it is, it may save the couches of some high-Tier people from a handful of ugly spills. Which do you think I care about most?”
He bowed his head and coughed. “The lives, erm, Cilia. I will do what I can.”
“Do more! Invoke my name, Sera’s, Lucilles, or the name of the bloody Savior. I don’t care. Just get me that damn leather!” She scowled at his retreating back, before expelling her breath in a rush. “Aaand he’s gone.” Turning to Nordon, who was going industriously through the mess of materials on the table before her, she complained. “Why? Why are people so difficult?”
“You do realize that you’re asking that of a man who has dedicated their entire life to getting people drunk enough he doesn’t have to deal with their normal, annoying personalities?” He chuckled. “I’m only kidding, of course. I love people. Even here in Liberty, where they are a bit more, let’s say, understandably reticent.”
Cilia snapped. “Well, I don’t. I’d never think I would miss being shunned for my ancestry back in Isarn.” She shook her head and sighed. “Ah. Never mind me. I am just unused to spending so much time dealing with people. It’s not my strongest side. There are good people here. And so many interesting materials! Did you know that they have a beast here that has natural camouflage? Not a Guardian or anything. A regular, silly little beast that can go half invisible. And they use them for pets?”
Nordon frowned. “And you suggested gathering and skinning them?”
“Of course. Picture the possibilities!”
Nordon hid his mouth behind a hand. “I bet that went down well. Anyway. I actually went looking for you specifically.”
“You did? Also, what have you been up to? It’s been a while now!”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. What with the Savior’s people and turmoil, there really aren’t the same security measures in place anymore, so I just went about, making friends, asking a few innocent questions.”
“Yes…?” Cilia asked hesitantly.
“Remember how we wondered about the uniformity of their lower-grade crafts? I got to the bottom of it. I located their crafting centrals!” Nordon beamed.
“Wait, what? I thought these were the crafting centrals. No. That’s not entirely right.” Cilia corrected herself, frowning.
“Exactly.” Nordon leaned forward over the table, beaming with energy. “This place is for those who craft, but decide not to make it their profession. The others – those who craft for a living? They are sealed off in specific locations otherwise closed to the public, depending on their crafts. Places where they have access to specific machinery that aids them produce a lot of lower-grade materiel very fast. Places I now have access to.”
Cilia stood up. Her hand shook slightly. “I… have been using the Savior’s own crafting stations. I have been able to construct a handful of truly effective items in the time I’ve had. But the numbers are not enough. They won’t be able to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Are you telling me that you can take some of my successes and… multiply them?”
Nordon grimaced. “Likely not. Cilia. I don’t think you understand entirely how strong you’ve gotten. I don’t think you understand how much theory you have internalized in that head of yours. An uneducated Tier two crafter with no education could not hope to match you, machinery or not. But!” He held up a finger. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to take some of the simpler items you’ve made, pare them down a lot in efficiency and duration… and create a hundred of them in two days. How does that sound?”
She gawked at him. She cleared her throat. “Sounds like I have some thinking to do.”
“You do that. We have maybe a week and a half before the army arrives. I’ll be back later today, for samples and a list. Then, we’ll see if the locals can’t create a few miracles of their own.” With a large smile, he turned and walked away. Over his shoulder, he shot. “I’ve been working on material lists, too. I’ll bring some for you. I know you like lists.”
Cilia sat down heavily on her chair, staring off into space. The burgeoning smile on her face was competing with the frown. “Was he… coming on to me?” She murmured.
A few minutes later, Cilia was hard at work, writing at the table, when another shadow loomed over her. “I’m busy. Leave it on the table, or tell Mattheus, if it’s important.”
The shade moved. Her table rocked and nearly tipped, spilling her off her chair and onto the ground with a shocked expression, while scrolls and ingredients hit the ground everywhere.
“Oh, I think you will find time for this, Honored Mind.”
That voice. Cilia’s gaze rose from the floor, over the spilled mess of lists and materials, ignoring the shocked looks of the surrounding crafters in the background. “Emilia!”
Emilia was there. The Heart who had joined them on their travels and helped them come to terms with their new situation. Who had, after a rocky start, become friendly, and might in time have become an actual friend. Only, right now, she was looking anything but friendly. One hand rested on the pommel of a studded club, sheathed at her side. The other was raised to hold back two bulky men at her side, both armed and armored, both waving weapons at anybody nearby. “Yes. Me. The one you lied to. Abused. Cheated, in order to slay our Savior!”
Cilia frowned before nodding slowly. “That is… exactly correct.”
“See?” She raised her voice to a shout, projected to reach the entire tent. “She doesn’t even protest. They would have performed any crime in order to kill the single person trying to protect us all.”
Cilia looked at Emilia. Truly looked at her. The creases and massed dirt on her clothes. The hints of blood spatters on the club at her side. Slowly, she got to her feet, as she put two and two together. “That, however, was all wrong. Wait. You’re the ones. The ones who’ve been going around the city, roughing up people for badmouthing the Savior.”
“Of course we have.” Emilia spat. “It’s the least they deserve for the sacrilege. They-”
Cilia spoke over her. “Except, I haven’t just said bad things about him. I helped kill him, Emilia.”
She reeled back like she had been struck. “Exactly-“
“Only, you have decided to not face the truth.” Cilia spoke intently, her gaze boring into Emilia’s, daring her to look away. “You have decided to ignore the evidence against your precious Savior. Blind yourself to what he did. Who he killed. Instead, you act out, trying to force people to act like nothing happened and that the truth is what you say it is.”
“Lies!” Emilia shouted. Spittle flew from her lips, as she brandished the club, pointing it at Cilia. “Filth and lies. You would say, anything, invent anything to make it seem like you were in the right! Only, we faithful will not let it stand. We will show everybody what happens when you defy the will of the Savior.”
Cilia’s voice lowered. “Oh, that is what you’re going to do then, is it?” She slowly unbuttoned her jacket, revealing the criss-crossed belts underneath. Belts bristling with droplets, arranged by type and power. “Ordinarily, I might have tried to talk you down.” Her eyes never wavered, even as she picked out items from the belts, one by one. “But I’ve spent days talking to people, and earlier, somebody might have been flirting with me. In fact, I’m rather happy you came here. Because, Emilia, I am frustrated, and I truly need something I can take my frustrations out on.”
Ten minutes later, the crafters were helping right some of the overturned tables, cleaning spills and sorting scattered materials. Cilia sat at one of the few intact tables, quill in hand, when a guard arrived, helmet in hand. “Honored Mind -“
“Just Cilia, please.” She kept writing.
“Cilia. They are all three healed and out of mortal danger. What would you have us do with them?”
She tapped her lip, leaving an ink splotch and grimacing at the taste. “I… want you to show them. This entire mess came about because they refused to face facts. I want you to take all three on a tour of the Savior’s premises. Show them all the ugly truths. Then, I want you to let them all sit in on a full reading of his diaries, start to finish. There should be copies made of all of them by now and I know they’re arranging these things. When that is done? I don’t know. Probably have Sera deal with it. I’m busy. Or at least, I will be, once Baeric returns with that blasted leather.”
