Chapter 7 : Come with Me Now

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Water

Thousand Dragons Lake, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“There’s a manse on the northern end of the Forest of Compassion that hasn’t been touched in at least two centuries.” The ancient Lunar spoke while trailing a sharp moonsilver claw across his bare chest. “Aspected towards wood- it was once a palace of healing, where the deranged have their madness ended, it has since become the home of dust and monstrous centipedes.”

“Centipedes?” He asked with a grimace. Khadarys nodded and pushed up from his chest, beginning to walk towards a side-door. A gesture of the hand indicated that he should follow. The sudden absence of her warmth on his chest, and the rush of cold that filled it, made him shiver violently. He pushed up off the rubble-bench and began to trod after the ancient Lunar. 

He snatched his staff, still burning with his flaming guardian, as he passed the table. 

“I put them there when I sealed the entrance, shortly after the Balorian Crusade.” Khadarys waved a hand lazily. “Nothing inside is of interest to their tastes, so they serve as effective guardians. I considered spiders, but their webs would be irritating to clean.” 

“Ah, that makes sense, I suppose.” Rhomon replied with a dry expression. 

“If the facilities function still, I have no indication.” She continued, escorting him down along dimly-lit halls of marble and andesite, and then to the side, into an unlit chamber. The crackling fire in his staff illuminated it slightly, revealing a kind of storeroom abrim with stone lockboxes and haphazardly stacked containers. “I know none have claimed the manse itself, for my attunement to it remains unbroken.” She commented, starting the process of opening drawers, inspecting the contents, then closing them again and moving to the next drawer.

She moved as if she were slightly unfamiliar with this room, its contents only half-remembered. 

After a few long moments of search, she retrieved a small gemstone. A smooth, cloudy–orange stone with a faint, calming shine. She tossed it haphazardly over to him and the moved onto another set of stone containers, searching for something.

“A hearthstone?” He asked, catching the stone and rubbing it with his thumb. A layer of dust fell away as it was cleared. 

A manse was a kind of structure built atop a place of natural magical power, a demesne, to focus and channel that power. Doing so produced a hearthstone, which allowed the bearer to benefit from the magical power of the demesne from anywhere. If he had to give a simple comparison, a river was a demesne, and the waterwheel was the manse- harnessing the power and flow of the natural essence to perform some sort of work for the user.

But that waterwheel also made a magical gemstone. There was no real easy comparison to it.

“A gem of mental health.” Khadarys spoke, pulling an ivory chest to the side and rooting through the contents within. Rhomon’s attention was grabbed immediately by that declaration, and the ancient Lunar continued to speak. “In my more nostalgic moods, I gird myself in silks of the first age, and as many hearthstones as I can bear. It will be more useful in your hands than mine.”

“That-” He was about to say that sounds lonely, before thinking better of it. “-I would love to see you in silks.” His attempt to save that sentence was not very convincing. 

“Perhaps one day, flatterer.” She replied with a little bob of her head. She pulled out an octagonal box, about the size of a large egg, then moved to another chest to rifle through its contents as well. 

“I’d need to be attuned to the demesne to use its powers- how do I use this?” He asked with a firm nod, recentering himself on practical, sorcerous matters. 

“The power is passive.” She replied with a shake of her tail-like hair. “When attuned to the demesne and wearing the gem, any madness the bearer suffers from will be erased. Cured and vanished, as if they were never afflicted in the first place.”

“It was the centerpiece of that house of healing. If no other treatment was effective, as a last resort, attunement to the location and touching the gem would cure them.” She pulled out an arc of crystal and slid the container back, turning and moving back towards him. “You said you need to cure some deranged man? Simply escort him to the demesne and guide him through the attunement process.”

The old man was in The Lap. The Lap, as a city, was near about a thousand miles from here. He nodded thoughtfully, staring down at the gemstone with a focused expression.

“Thank you.” He said with a serious nod. “It’s not perfect- but it’s far better than I was expecting.”

“You’ll need these.” She commented humorlessly, placing the box and arc of crystal into his hand. He fumbled with them briefly before securing them against his chest. “A hearthstone compass and an essence scrying visor. The compass will lead you to the nearest manse, regardless of distance. You need to be able to perceive essence to do so, however, which is what the visor is for. Both will need attunement.”

The ability to perceive essence, the ability to find manses, and a location that can cure any mental illness. He didn’t know what kind of help he was expecting to receive, but this was more than enough. 

“...Thank you.” He said with a humble bow of his head and a grateful warmth in his tone. 

“Toys from a better age- they’re just trinkets to me. The world lost much in the Usurpation.” Khadarys waved a hand and brushed past him, moving back towards the central room. “Your precious Dragonblooded kin are to blame for this, do not forget that.”

“End of the world, rapidly approaching.” Rhomon replied dryly, following behind her. “I have bigger things to worry about than properly assigned blame for something that happened fifteen hundred years ago. There isn’t a single dragonblooded alive who participated in it- nor their fathers, and probably not their grandfathers either.”

“And yet they contributed to it all the same, assistants in the flow of their loathsome history.”

“The sins of the father are not the sins of his sons. The sons have their own sins.” Rhomon stated firmly, ignoring her narrow-eyed glance. “Otherwise I’d have to kill myself for my mother and grandmother’s many daillances with demons.”

“Demons? A demon is just a tool, sorcerer.” Khadarys replied with an amused laugh, emerging into the main room and leaning back against the great stone table in the center. “Do you execute a man for using a rake?”

“No- a demon is a demon.” Rhomon replied firmly, eye narrow and lips tugged down into a scowl. “A creature of Malfeas that acts in accordance with its alien nature- a nature that usually ends up with someone hurt or property damaged if you don’t constantly monitor their activities. They are bad for Creation.”

He shook his head and walked over to his discarded shorts, setting the artifacts and his staff down to dress himself again. “An axe is a tool, a rake is a tool, a hammer is a tool- A blood ape is a bloodthirsty spirit that loves violence, screams to reproduce, and has a pathological need to murder every cat it sees. Treating them as tools is dismissive to the point of ignoring the danger they make for others.”

“Not every demon is a blood ape, sorcerer.”

“So maybe they don’t kill cats. Maybe they drink all the alcohol instead. Maybe they smelt souls into artifacts. Maybe they make and abandon monstrous chimaera-children around. Maybe they whisper in your ears about the glories of worshipping the Yozi. Maybe they kill ten people and wear their skins.” He continued to list off examples, taking up his staff and the artifacts again.  

“And for what? Something you could’ve accomplished with slightly more effort anyways?” He asked rhetorically, then shook his head. “This is why no one trusts sorcerers. They summon demons that get people killed and then act like the mortals are at fault for not adhering to some occult rule they had no way of knowing.”

“So says the sorcerer.” Khadarys replied with a distinctly amused tone.

“The irony does not escape me, no.” Rhomon replied dryly. 

“Enough- You have what you came for, and I’ve been paid the barest I’d be willing to accept.” Khadarys waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for the hall that led back to the underwater entrance of the manse. “Tell no one of this place, nor of me, and I’ll consider sparing you next time we cross paths.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, nodding earnestly. “I’ll put this to good use. I know you’ll do well with the advanced warning.”

“Hah? Do well? What makes you think I plan on doing anything at all, mortal?” She asked with a slightly annoyed expression, watching him begin to cast a basic spell. His bronze skin would make it more or less impossible for him to swim up to the surface, so he needed to remove that first.

“Countermagic.” He intoned, waving a hand over himself. The spell ripped off the magic that clung to him, tearing bronze into disparate essence and making it flutter away like ash on wind. After that was done, he walked over to his diving gear and began to strap it on again. It was important that he did not use countermagic while within ten or so feet of his enchanted gear.

Unlike artifacts, mortal enchanting was fragile and easily broken if exposed to the dispelling-magics of proper sorcery. He gently emptied the bag of rocks and loaded up his new gifts within. 

“Why do I think you’ll do good?” He asked for clarification, pulling up and tossing the bag over his shoulder, pulling the helmet over his head. “Becuase I have faith in you.” He replied simply, smiling. He lowered the visor and made his way for the exit.

“I’ll be off now- be well, Lady Khadarys.” If he was wrong, then he’d simply be disappointed after the fact. Someone had to bear the cost of reaching out first, why not him?

He thought he could almost hear a nostalgic sigh, but he didn’t stop to listen.

—

He emerged to a night sky, the stars and moon above gleaming in faint radiance, making the rolling waves of the Thousand Dragon Lake shine in bright arcs. He reached up and undid the visor of his improvised diving equipment at once, taking in deep breaths that weren’t totally drenched in citrus. 

It was downright nauseating to smell nothing but lemon-orange for minutes at a time. He blinked the water out of his eyes, easily bobbing on the surface thanks to his air-cannister, and looked around for the boat. It was possible they had just sailed back to shore already-

-Ah, there they were. He narrowed his eye and started to swim in that direction, keeping his gaze flat and focused.

There was indeed the small fishing boat that he had rented the services of, but it was almost buried in the shadow of a much larger, much more imposing ship. A seventy-foot yacht loomed next to the fishing boat, full of gleaming lanterns and full of the sounds of merry-making. Loud obnoxious laughter from one joke or another, the vapors of smoked incense and drugs, and who knows what else. 

He swam towards the fishing boat, which had Shuri, Brahm, and the local he had hired. It also had a new addition, however, a young man who rose up from his seated position and gave a casual wave, one lamp in his hand. 

“Cousin! Come up from your dive, have you?” The man called out with an easy smile and charming tone- Rhomon recognized it as the tone used by party goers looking for social favors. 

Rhomon grabbed the side of the boat and pulled himself up, shrugging off his helmet and raising a brow at the stranger. “Cousin? I apologize, I don’t recognize you.”

“Hahahah-!” There was a slightly strained hint in the back of his tone as the stranger laughed, before waving a gregarious hand. “Cousin! Don’t tell me you forgot about dear old Siata! We met at your graduation party for primary school, remember?! Sesus Siata- we’re related through grandfather Mnemon Broken Pillar, who married into house Sesus, remember?” 

There was an edge of desperation in his tone as he laughed. Rhomon slowly nodded, brows furrowed. “Broken Pillar… I think I remember hearing about that. Wasn’t he an out-”

“Outrageous fellow- that’s right, haha!” The young man interrupted loudly, waving a hand. 

Rhomon was going to say ‘outcaste who had been adopted into House Mnemon’. He raised a brow and nodded, giving the young man a long look up and down. Pale skin, black hair, and rich brown eyes. He looked to be about typical for people of the Blessed Isle, heartland of the Realm, and he wore his straight hair back in a short, slightly messy tail. His lips were full, his nose was strong, and he stood just shy of six feet tall. 

“Heya- cousin Rhomon! You’re a tough guy to get a message too, you know that?” The young man snapped his fingers and gave him a charming grin. “I tried to send a message your way at the local parties- but then they told me you had left down south to talk to those Snakemen. Then I tried getting a message to you when you came back- but you skipped right past the city and came straight up here!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were trying to contact me.” Rhomon nodded, slowly unstrapping the makeshift diving suit. “What is this message?”

“An invitation, of course!” Siata stepped forwards, throwing a friendly hand over his shoulder and waving up at the much larger boat. A glance at the railings around the edges revealed a number of party-goers and a fair number of mostly-nude dancers, a few of which leaned over the edge and waving down at them. 

“You’re the talk of the entire satrapy, with the retrieval of that crown- you missed the last party, but surely you want a chance to celebrate at the next one? I guess you haven’t been invited to all that many parties before, but we can definitely amend that!” Siata laughed, clapping him on the back. “Though- I can tell you’re experienced in the bedroom! I recognize those ‘battle scars’ anywhere! Were you talking to a nymph down there? Haha!”

Rhomon glanced down at his bare chest, and then at his back, seeing the array of scratches and bruises that coated it. Reminders of his recent coitus with an ancient and powerful woman, a meeting that would have him killed by Immaculate doctrine. 

“Well it wasn’t one, no.” Rhomon began to weave a lie to cover it up. “There was a whole sisterhood of nymphs down there, who told me they would steal from their grandmother’s trinkets if I would only spend some time with them.”

“Haha! Really now?!” Siata leaned forwards conspiratorially. Brahm was giving him a flat look. 

“Entirely true- unfortunately, them stealing from their grandmother like that invoked her wrath, and it was all I could do to run away.” He nodded gravely. “Their grandmother’s lair is somewhere up near the source of the stream, I’m not sure where, and she looked to be a powerful and ill-tempered dragon.”

“Great fun! Great fun!” Siata laughed, before stepping away and over to the rope ladder that led up to his party-yacht. “Come aboard, cousin! It wouldn’t be a party without the star present, would it?!”

“Give me a minute to talk to my allies.” Rhomon nodded, to which the young man laughed and nodded, kicking off the boat in a burst of flame, lifting supernaturally into the air and grabbing onto the side of the railing above, flipping over in a casual display of superheroics. 

The elemental magic of the Dragonblooded, used casually to skip a brief climb up a ladder. That made things slightly more troublesome, he frowned slightly and looked to his companions. “We’re not going to be able to avoid this one.” He muttered lowly, stripping down and quickly getting dressed in his regular clothes. “Don’t do any drugs, no matter how much they offer. Avoid any of their drinks and snacks too, just in case. We’ll stay as long as it is polite and leave at the first opportunity.”

“Mortals are not supposed to have direct contact with spirits, sorcerer.” Brahm stated bluntly, a lecturing tone in his voice as he handed clothes over. 

Rhomon sighed and rolled his eye. “I’ll make an appropriate donation to the next Immaculate shrine we come across, in apology.”

“A better apology would be not to do it again.” 

“We’re going to have to deal with a lot of spirits in our travels, monk. They’re around every corner out here in the Threshold.” Rhomon groused at him, slipping his coat around his shoulders. “Or should we try violence on every elemental we meet?”

The monk closed his eyes and grunted in a displeased fashion. 

“Your cousin seems like a very polite, if forceful, individual.” Shuri the snake-prince commented with a polite smile and nod. "We're sure his social gathering will be-”

“-It will be thoroughly debauched and filled with drugs and sex.” Rhomon stated bluntly. “They will probably insult you several times to tempt you into a fight, where they will beat you because they are Dragonblooded. Don’t go off on your own lest you be forcibly added to someone’s retinue as a slave-pet.”

“O-oh.” Shuri looked distinctly less ready for the party, glancing over at the ladder with a slightly worried expression. 

“Just stay close to me and it should be fine.” Rhomon frowned, taking up his staff and securing his new treasures inside his coat under two layers of wrapping. He turned to the fisherman, who was looking quite nervous. “Go ahead and go home, good sir. No need to wait on us.”

“Ah- are you sure, sir?”

Rhomon nodded, taking hold of the ladder and starting the climb up. Brahm followed shortly after, as did Shuri. Bags of supplies weighed his shoulders down, but the climb was easy enough.

The deck was, naturally, covered in the excesses common to these sorts of parties. Servants carried wine and snacks out from the lower decks, a pair of exotic dancers performed in the center, and a number of nobles, patricians, and other insufferable rich people lounged in comfortable cushions and watched the entertainment. Hookah pipes and lines of cocaine were a somewhat common sight. 

“Cousin! Everyone! Let me introduce- the daring scion of Mnemon who ventured into the Shadowlands and retrieved that ancient regalia!” Siata was quick to call out and wave a hand to him as he hauled himself over the railing. “Mnemon Rhomon!”

He had been to a few of these parties before, and the distinct feeling of being meat watched by crocodiles never really went away. 

“Yo.”

The first opportunity to leave, he was taking it.