I took a closer look at the map, making sure I wasn’t seeing things. But it was still there. My family crest, drawn over one of the houses on the land where the silent mansions stood. My grandfather’s journals surfaced in my mory—the description of long, winding corridors going underground, the journey to the war command, and its purpose. He was initially invited to study the strange virus that seed to act like a living cure.
Then, when trying to locate mother’s milk for my familiar, I traced a branch of my family dealing with the Black Goat of the Woods. The last reports were of their journey to the Vatican. They were masters of biology and of working with living flesh. What I was currently looking at was most likely a mansion where they stayed.
But it was what they were sent to study that made feel sothing akin to worry—like a fingerless hand of fear trying to grasp my heart.
It was the virus.
The missing life-related artifacts, my grandfather’s writing, and Astrid’s dream. They all painted a picture. I didn’t understand the whole vision, but I got one thing: “The dead shall march on borrowed bone.” It was a description that could fit any undead, but one in particular—the creatures created by the Miracle-Bringers’ undead virus. Instead of an artificial soul, the organisms actually borrowed the carrier’s body.
And then there was the vision. Five horns on each side of the head—they referred to a man bringing change, a master number depicted as a crown, most likely referring to the master of my family. My grandfather. The most powerful mber of my family, who helped keep the miracle bringers at bay and advance research into the disease.
After the war, the virus was destroyed—every carrier, every strain wiped from the earth using divination and any other techniques possible—but here, would a singularity of such power shield it from those techniques? Could the virus even be destroyed without clearing the entire singularity if it were preserved in the mory of magic? It fed on the carrier's life force, so life-attuned artifacts would easily beco breeding grounds for it if the cult obtained a strain or managed to reproduce it.
I looked at the map once again. “Research Center” was the title of a larger building in the second circle of the city. It was a place with little in the docunts beyond the supplies local n and won had transported there. The building was halfway between the mansions outside the city and the spire in the city center—in the second circle but relatively close to the first.
I looked over those gathered around . One of them would try to lead us in that direction. Either soone here would do that, or soone outside would try to influence them, maybe even change hosts after the council was established.
Now I just needed to lead us away from the building and see who was most eager to change that.
But there was another thing on my mind. Would the mansion contain my family's old artifacts? Could I find the mother’s milk there? Would any guards rembered by the magic attack? Or would they recognize as a mber by my aura? It was a massive gamble to go there, but… I stashed the idea at the back of my mind for now and gave a ntal pat to the source of the barking echoing in my skull.
Once I shook off the revelation, I brought my attention back to those around . For now, everyone was studying the map.
Over the following hours, we went through the docunts, the journal we found, the map, and identified two very likely next safe spots and two more possible ones to check. That gave us four directions to move in: one east back where we ca from, one north toward the city center, one northwest, and one southwest. The research facility was to the northwest, so it would be the better option for the creature. The only problem was that the church clearly wanted to move west as well, and I couldn't guess why.
“So what now?” asked Elissa, the druid representing smaller religious factions.
“We discuss whose group goes where and who even wants to move out of here,” Lenart, a man representing the unaffiliated nobles, said.
“Shouldn’t we stay?” Leo proposed. “As the ruling body, if sothing happened to us, it would be detrintal to the expedition.”
“So now we’re an expedition?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“We have to go,” Jean D’Arc broke in before we could start arguing once again. “The whole thing is based on the idea that we can make our decision based on what we see with our own eyes. No point in huddling here and relying on people who will do anything to avoid going deeper.”
I nodded at her words.
We went back out to the people, announced the four possible directions, and then gave them ti to decide who wanted to go and who didn’t. In the end, roughly seven thinned-out groups were available, so one had to either go alone or soone had to do a double shift to keep the ‘two groups always watching each other's back’ formation. Thankfully, the leaders of the smaller factions ca in handy as they had the most deserters and managed to talk five people into going. They would hang back and act as spotters for any Skinwalker shenanigans without being expected to check any houses.
“Is that all?” Leo asked as we gathered back, now knowing where we stand.
“No,” I shook my head. “There is one more thing.” As I said that, I produced one of the food items from the feast.
It was still in good shape, a light steam wafting from the piece of at as if it ca straight from the oven, not from the old pouch at my side. This sight raised many eyebrows, especially with how out of place a still lightly decorated and sauced piece of roast looked here. Everyone in the room turned their eyes to , frowns visible on their faces.
I gave a brief explanation of how we ca by the food. After that, we finally chose one of the paladins, the druid Elissa, and Ophelia to check it out. Ophelia was chosen for her resistance to poison, while the other two either had good constitutions or knew how to handle poisons.
They then each sampled a food item, and we waited, with all the healers available, for sothing to happen. But nothing did, aside from the effect of replenishing mana, ntal strength, and even light wound healing—from the wine.
We all gave a collective sigh of relief, followed by a few nods of appreciation at so good news for a change. Overall, the food had the effects of lower-tier potions, making the journey slightly easier.
As preparations for going out got underway, I found a perfect opportunity amid the chaos. The person I was after was off to the side, getting ready.
“Hello,” I greeted Nathan as he was sharpening his daggers.
“Samuel.” He nodded.
“I see the church has been treating you well.”
“What do you want?”
“Why so cold?” I said in a feigned hurt voice.
My response was t with raised eyebrows.
“You owe one,” I said, dropping the theatrics.
I could see consternation on his face. He clearly didn’t like that, but also couldn’t really deny the reality.
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“And what do I owe you?”
“A favor. Nothing much,” I smiled. “I want information on the church.”
“I won’t betray—”
“I’m not asking you to betray anyone,” I cut him off before he could start screaming about his loyalty, as so people started looking in our direction. “But I want to talk without all that secrecy and formality. And maybe I can trade for that.”
“Didn’t you just propose that the council control information?”
“Yes, and I’m in on that council.”
“Which makes you the pri suspect, by your own logic,” he pressed on.
“Is Helga a good teacher?” I changed the subject.
“Yes,” he answered quickly and firmly.
“Well then, tell her you have a debt to pay and need help paying it. A good teacher should help. If she decides I’m untrustworthy, you can still say no. Of course, that would be ignoring the fact I saved YOUR life after YOUR mistake put all of us in danger back then, but sure, you can always say no. No pressure,” I finished with a smile.
Nathan looked like he was about to retort, but then, after a second to ponder, nodded in agreent, and I left him to his preparations while going to start mine.
I volunteered my group to go to the southwestern spot since I intended to try and sell it as the best thing ever if it was safe. Before we went out, another goal was decided on—the smithy. Aside from the paladins and a few people like who carried weapons wherever we went, many fighters had only ceremonial or borrowed blades. The church group was also tasked with another task—checking out the market to see if more magical food was available. They picked the northwest spot.
I observed the remaining people as the groups slowly ford by the exit back to the city. So were calm and determined, others clearly twitchy and scared. The worst-looking ones were the volunteers who were talked into joining as the eighth group. They would go with Jean D’Arc towards the east, as it should be the easiest expedition, going back where we had already been. They were almost all pale, mostly made up of unaffiliated nobles, who were talked into going by Lenart, as well as one Third Chamber deserter from Aren's side.
“So what do you think?” William asked, coming closer. “You think we have the skinwalker on the council?” he asked in a low voice.
I shrugged. “Likely. If it needs us to go to any particular spot, it should aim for people with at least so voice in the group.” I turned to him, raising one of my eyebrows. “So who do you pick?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. The popes should be safe, but Zenon and the pope's guards aren’t. They would have a lot of influence through their leaders.”
“Sure, but also close to scrutiny. I’d aim for soone more on the side, although I don’t know much about the remaining six.”
“The D’Arcs are a power inside the noble faction, a pillar opposite to Riswalt’s. The two Riswalts, I don’t know much about. Daniel, I think, is a lapdog of Emmanuel, and so say a coward. As for Albert, I don’t really know anything, only that they don’t like each other with Daniel.”
“Yeah, that much I can see.”
“I think Albert’s closer to the unaffiliated nobles,” he said, pointing at the man currently talking with the eighth group, trying to improve their mood.
I frowned, “You sure you got them right? Daniel was the one who knocked out the panicking man at the gate after that woman lost her head, right?”
“Just because he’s a lapdog doesn’t make him a moron. And it’s just a rumor.”
“Hmh,” I said. “And the rest?”
William clicked his tongue at the question. “I know even less there. Lenart is from one of the bigger middle-sized families, so the rest picked him as representative. As for Elissa and Sayadaw, Sayadaw is part of the Buddhist groups, and that’s all, while Elissa, I think, was from the sa circle as the druid couple, but I don’t think they were close.”
I sighed. That didn’t get much. Probably the cats knew more. So far, Daniel was the only one acting sowhat out of character, assuming he really was a coward.
Once ready, my group slowly made our way to the southern spot without any incidents. We were in the sa squad. The only change was the second party right behind us. The oracle stayed behind to be watched over by Astrid. Instead, Aren and two of his people joined us.
We arrived at the correct place in about two hours of a slow, unnerving walk. It was a large storage owned by a group of shops dealing in daily necessities and costics. The building was large and simple, reminiscent of a wooden barn. The wide door at the front was open, and we could see many crates inside, sitting on the floor in random spots. And from ti to ti, a massive wooden hand would co down from the ceiling, grab one of the crates, and place it sowhere else.
“Well, that’s a bust,” Luna said, her gaze glued to the open entrance.
“Yeeep,” I said, looking at the sa spot.
It took us an hour to get close to the blacksmith on our way back. We waited in a side alley as another procession passed us, all with overturned crosses sewn into their backs. It looked like the mana aberrations paid us no mind, not being aggressive unless we stepped on their feet. Overall, while creepy, just walking the streets wasn’t that dangerous.
And once the procession was out of our sight, we walked out of the alley and arrived in front of the smithy. The good news was that the building didn’t have any aura or movent inside. But that was also a bit of bad news. If there had been weapons here during a tragedy, this spot would have been important, but the silence inside suggested otherwise.
The smithy was at the corner of what looked like an apartnt building, with shops in the lower part, the arrangent looking quite modern. The place took a sizable part of the lower level, stretching through almost half the building. It had large windows that let us look inside, and once we got a bit closer, our hopes sank.
It was a smithy, yes—and by the looks of it, an arcane one—as the things on the displays had runes and enchantnts. But everything there was for house and garden use. A fire poker, I was pretty sure, would move the flas away from your hand. A garden hoe with so sort of increase in sharpness. I could also see a clock chanism—much simpler in the chanical departnt than the modern ones, but much more advanced when it ca to magic—as the runic circle was on full display under the opened clock face.
“So, another bust, huh?” William asked.
At that, I frowned.
“It shouldn’t be. The office had docuntation on residents' complaints about loud convoys coming here.”
“So?”
“The response from the main office was that it was classified and they were not to poke their noses into it, and the complaints were ignored. Why would classified convoys co by here?”
We all took another look, but still got nothing.
“Let’s go in, then,” Ophelia proposed.
“Why so eager?”
“I feel naked without the rapier,” she said, looking in the eyes. “And whose fault is that?”
I shrugged.
“Good instinct to have,” Darius comnted.
We decided to go in, while leaving the second group to watch the entrance. William moved with lightning-quick reflexes to catch the bell over the door before it could ring. We entered the place, and I began checking things out one by one. They were all expertly crafted but also useless to us—unless soone back in the safe spot decided to take up gardening.
We then moved to the staff room, which also doubled as a workshop, and spread around the place looking for anything useful. I noticed Darius was bending over the anvil with a growing frown on his face.
“This anvil is wrong,” he announced after a few seconds.
“How?” Luna asked.
He pointed at a square hole in the tal.
“This spot is to insert a rune you want to beat into tal. But the runes on that clock face on display are larger than this.”
“Maybe they ordered the face sowhere else?” Ophelia proposed.
“Nah,” he said, then went to pick up a hamr next to the anvil, moving it around, checking its weight. “It was a dwarven smithy.” He pointed the tool at her. “And this is a dwarven hamr,” he said with certainty, although a shadow of sadness passed his face. “No dwarf would display a piece ordered outside of their workshop.”
We brought our gazes back to the smithy. I went to check the delivery doors. They were to the side, opening into a small storage area connected to the workshop. The storage room was small—a bit too small for my liking. I then looked around the place and noticed sothing: a tal hoop in the ceiling. It could be to hang a light or anything really, but it was closer to the exit onto the loading ramp, and it was clearly strengthened. The screws holding it were enchanted.
“Darius?” I called. “Is there a set of ropes and pulleys in the other room?”
“How did you know?” I heard his voice.
“Bring them here—and anything that’s lying close.”
They all marched into the room, carrying the pulleys and a few trinkets. We then tried to find sothing hidden in the empty place, and we finally did. Darius put on the blacksmith’s glove and inserted his finger into a hole in the floor. The mont he did, a large panel popped out, revealing an entrance going straight down into a much larger storage room.
Through the open hatch, we could all see weapons stored there. And at first glance, I could see artifacts among them.
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