Bog Standard Isekai

Tenerer. His mysterious benefactor. Tenerer was the godling who had delivered messages from Solia, who had talked him through the [Multithreading] Skill, and who had given him the [Filial Piety] Missions.

But everything the gods had done for him was done in the name of fairness and balance. He’d gotten [Know What’s Real] because it wasn’t fair for him to die before coming to understand his situation in this world. The System Quest was given because it wasn’t fair that he’d killed those undead with traps and then had his experience confiscated as a [Child] when he’d needed that power to survive. He’d often wondered what that meant for [Filial Piety], because the mission had been completed before he’d talked to Gerin.

It could’ve meant that Gerin was dead, but now he knew that wasn’t the case. Another possibility was that the rewards for finding Gerin were so beneficial that the System didn’t think he deserved another reward on top of that. Or, it could mean that finding Gerin was so dangerous that the System didn’t think it was fair to ask him to do that.

There was only one way to find out. He pushed open the door. It swung open easier than he expected. Despite being solid stone, there was almost no resistance. He could tell the thick stone was heavy, but it was so perfectly balanced and the hinges were so frictionless that it took little effort to move.

He hadn’t been able to get an Invisible Eye inside so he had no idea what to expect. He thought it might be another labyrinthian facility and that he’d have to search a while.

Instead, Gerin was standing right in front of him, a crossbow pointing at his heart. “Hold right there, stranger.”

Name: Gerin Baines

Class: Scout

Level: 30

Description: Scouts have Skills for long distance travel, observation, remaining unseen, and surviving in nature for long periods of time. Gerin has specialized in the nature aspect of his Class, and has Skills for manipulating plants and animals.

Brin put his hands up. “Whoa, no need for that. We come in peace.”

“A bit unlikely that you just happened to stumble on down here at the same time as I, don’t you think?” asked Gerin. A spotted black and white dog at his side growled at them.

Marksi hissed and squared up against the dog. Both stared at each other angrily, but the dog was well trained, because it didn’t attack or even bark.

“It’s true I came looking for you,” said Brin. “But I just want to talk.”

“We can do all the talking you want, just as long as you keep those hands away from that spear. Nice and easy,” said Gerin. Despite his caution, he didn’t seem overtly hostile or fearful, more like the security guards at a corporate office who smiles apologetically when he searches through a visitor’s backpack before letting them on the elevator.

Brin’s first impression was that he was looking at one of his Class Avatars. He had Brin’s face, not just a casual family resemblance, but his near exact actual face, only unscarred and a bit older. He also didn’t have the lines of worry, the angles of extreme stress that Brin had seen carved into his own face. He didn’t look like a soft man, by any means, he was a [Scout] in an army after all. But he didn’t look like someone who’d ever been tortured by [Witches].

“Do you really think you can stop us with that?” asked Rhun.

“I can stop one, and run away from the other,” said Gerin, still holding the crossbow in place.

Brin wondered if he could. He didn’t have much room to maneuver. The room behind Gerin was much smaller than Brin expected, a twenty-foot wide square. In the center was a pure black stone, the size and shape of a gravestone. There were shelves of scrolls lining the walls that looked one heavy breath away from dust, and not much else. Everything was made of the same futuristic-looking black stone, but other than that it was underwhelming.

“Whoa! No one is shooting anyone! We’re really here to talk to you,” said Brin.

Gerin shrugged. “About what?”

Brin faltered. If Cid were here, he’d make sure Brin got to the point, but since he wasn’t, Brin wussed out. “I want to learn more about Tenerer.”

“Because it’s the one word you can read on the door?” asked Gerin.

“The plaque above the door reads ‘In Nhamanshal in accordance with all laws and respect to all GODS, a shrine to Tenerer.’ More or less,” said Brin.

“That’s almost exactly the translation I came up with. A scholar in steel, I see!” Gerin raised an eyebrow, appreciatingly. Then he sighed and let down the crossbow. “Well, you’re definitely not Arcaenean. Come on in and I’ll show you what I’m doing here.”

The dog immediately stepped back and sat, seeming to feel that the entire ordeal was over. Marksi obviously felt different. He bared his teeth and leaned back, waiting for the slightest sign of treachery before he pounced.

“Don’t eat the dog,” Brin said.

“Oh, Pinto can look after himself. I’d be more worried about it going the other way around,” said Gerin. “Come on in.”

Brin crossed the threshold and felt a little ping of resistance in the Wyrd, but then it was gone. Whatever protections had been laid against this place must have long since expired.

“So as you no doubt know, Tenerer was an [Arcanist] in ancient Nhamanshal. He, Emperor Iustus I, and Aharad the [Law of Magic] all ascended at the same time, within ten years of each other. People will say all kinds of things, but we know that was the true cause of the fall of Nhamanshal. Those three left a void of apocalyptical proportions,” said Gerin.

“Iustus didn’t have an heir?” asked Brin.

“Iustus II. But that wasn’t the problem, the problem was their Skills,” said Gerin.

“How do you mean?” asked Brin.

Gerin talked with the fervent light of a man with a true passion who rarely got to share it with others. “You know, the magical tools. You probably use the word ‘Cantobies’. People use it as a catch-all for all the devices of old Nhamanshal that don’t work anymore, but those were just the wands. There are also the batteries, the adapters, the focus arrays… Imagine what life must have been like to the people of that time! Anyone could cast spells of dozens of different elements with the right equipment. Rather than spend the mind-breaking work of learning the Language, they could skip all that and focus on actually using magic. We can barely understand the glory of their civilization, but that’s because it can’t be reproduced, not without the foundational Skills their technology was built on.”

To Brin, a Cantoby sounded a bit like his Lightmind, but for every element? Such a thing would be valuable beyond measure. He could barely imagine how powerful he’d be if he wasn’t limited to light, sound, and glass. “So that’s what you’re looking for? One of these Cantobies?”.

Gerin shook his head, looking confused. “No. Like I said, without Tenerer’s passive Skills empowering them, they’re nothing more than interesting collectors items. I have two of them, by the by. Don’t get me wrong, but… you don’t seem as familiar with all of this as I thought. No offense intended Sir… Brin. Interesting, where have I heard the name Brin recently? No offense intended, but when you said you came here looking for information on Tenerer I took you for another fellow with a passion for history, but that doesn’t seem to be the case…”

Brin cleared his throat. “No, I… It’s a bit more complicated. I got some System messages that were a lot more personal-sounding than normal. When I asked a priest of the gods, a real one, he told me that the messages were sent by Tenerer. He’s helped me a lot in the past, and some of his interference led me straight here, to you.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“What sort of interference? What did he say?” Gerin grinned hungrily at Brin, and his dog seemed to have decided that they were friendlies because he ceased even bothering to sit as he watched them and lay down on the ground, tongue lolling out. Marksi was furious to be so easily dismissed, but he didn’t pounce on the animal.

Brin hesitated, and then took off his helmet. “He told me to–”

Gerin gasped. “Oh! Ha, I see! You’re that Sir Brin! I knew the name was familiar! I should have realized at once! You know, Nesta wrote to me about you? She described you as a fairy tale prince, stepped straight out of legend.”

“I know this is strange, but–”

Gerin laughed and stepped forward. He clapped Brin around the forearm, and then pulled him in for a half hug. “Thank you. I was older than the others when our father disappeared. They don’t remember him, but I do, and he was a good man. I always knew he wouldn’t abandon us. I only wish I’d followed my instincts and sought him out sooner; perhaps I could have saved both you and us a lot of hurt.”

Brin was too surprised by Gerin’s sudden acceptance to make a good response. “Oh, no, um. It was the least I could do. I’m glad to meet you.”

In his defense, Gerin had apparently gotten news about him a while ago and had time to prepare how he would react when they met. Brin had come into this meeting expecting to have to introduce himself from the beginning. But it only made sense that Nesta would’ve sent word. That meant that [Filial Piety] had already been completed in truth a long time ago, so there was no chance that there was some hidden Mission still in store.

At the same time, [Filial Piety] had led him here, to this spot at this moment, right when found some secret trove of knowledge about Tenerer. There was no way that was a coincidence. Brin could see the fingerprints of the godling all over this chain of events. There was something important here to be gained.

“I don’t know where to start with catching up. I think there’s more to that conversation than we can cover underground in enemy territory. Now you know how I got here, but why are you here?” asked Brin.

“Well… you know. I’ve always been so fascinated by history and Tenerer himself led such a remarkable life. Did you notice that the door said, ‘In Nhamanshal’? That means that they created this shrine after he ascended but before Nhamanshal fell. That’s a very short period of time. The people who made this shrine might have known him in life. If I could find journals or first-hand accounts–”

“No,” said Rhun, shaking his head.

“No?” asked Gerin, looking perplexed.

“No. I don’t accept it. I will not object on Brin’s behalf, because this is a thing between brothers. Estranged brothers who must take time to learn to trust. I will object for myself, because I am a [Knight] and a true man of Prinnash. You will not lie to me. Now tell me. Why are you truly here?”

Gerin looked between Brin and Rhun. He looked down at his dog. Pinto looked back up at him with trusting eyes, ready for anything. He sighed. “I really am interested in the history. That part wasn’t a lie. Three of these shrines existed in what’s now Prinnash and Frenaria, but they’ve long-since been ransacked. I hoped that this one would still be preserved, and it was! Say what you want about tyrants, they’re good at preserving things. There are signs that Arcaena found this place, but she left it exactly like it was. But I’ll admit that intellectual curiosity wouldn’t have driven me to risk my life like this. I’m looking for the Tenerer’s Lexicon, of course.”

He’d heard that [Arcanists] made their living by selling words that they’d discovered to [Mages]. The Lexicon created by the greatest [Arcanist] to ever live would be a treasure beyond imagining. A holy grail.

“Is that what this is?” Brin said, pointing to the floor. The ground was covered with scrolls, some unfurled and some wrapped up again.. Gerin had treated them with something to keep it from falling apart, and he’d been transcribing them into his own notebook. The one he’d been working on wasn’t a journal or any kind of record; it was clearly a list of words in one column with definitions or explanations in the other.

These were words in the Language. Brin couldn’t immediately deduce their meaning because it was in an ancient alphabet that he didn’t know, but he would’ve started recording everything in sight with Invisible Eyes if he hadn’t already been doing that since the moment he walked in here.

“No, this is just… it’s more like a User’s Manual. These are the words someone would need to know in order to maintain the console there. It’s not functional anymore, but the words will be worth something. No, his actual Lexicon will be more like, well, we don’t know precisely what it is. An artifact, maybe a book, and it’s only rumored to exist in the first place. It’s said that Tenerer knew every word in the Language, and the Lexicon is the key to unlocking that knowledge.”

Brin couldn’t keep his eyes away from the scroll on the floor, even though he’d already committed it to memory. “That’s impossible. The Language is infinite.”

“But if you knew the equation or method by which a word in the language could be deduced, then you’d functionally know them all,” said Gerin. “That’s what the Lexicon can do.”

“Did you find it?” Brin asked, mouth suddenly feeling dry. If he had, this was big. Bigger than the war on Arcaena, even. This was it, this was the benefit he’d been looking for. This was why Tenerer had closed his Mission early, because the location of this Lexicon was more valuable than any Mission reward could possibly be.

“I found a map, of the old empire. It has the location of five shrines. Four of them I already knew about, and one of them in the Isles of Emnia,” said Gerin.

Brin looked at Rhun, who sniggered at him. “Are you not Frenarian? No, I suppose you are not. Emnia is the name for the island chain far off the eastern coast of Frenaria.”

“Islands, but more like cliff-faced pillars that stab right up from the sea like spears. The waters are treacherous and even three-masted ships are known to be pulled down by the terrible undercurrents. Fierce winds blast the paint right off the sides of ships who draw too near, even if they approach on one of the rare days that they aren’t wracked with storms. As if that weren’t enough, swarms of wyverns guard the skies. It is the perfect place for a reclusive [Arcanist] to set up a secret residence, one where he keeps his greatest treasures away from reach.”

“I have contacts. I could fund an expedition if you’re sure you could find it,” Brin said in growing excitement.

“I could! I’m sure of it!” Gerin paused. “Brin, I see now this must be fate. I have one other thing to share with you, if you’re willing. But for this, I would have to ask your man to step outside,” said Gerin.

It sounded like Gerin wanted to tell him a secret, and Brin loved secrets. He wouldn’t have a Class based around gathering information if he didn’t. But he did himself proud and actually thought it through first. Gerin didn’t actually inspire a lot of trust. He was a little shifty, although that could just be his personality. This could all be a ploy to separate them.

At the same time, the idea of Tenerer’s Lexicon was too good to pass up, and he just didn’t think that Gerin and his dog could pose that much risk to him. Even if that crossbow was enchanted well enough to get through Brin’s armor, he didn’t think he was in any danger.

Brin nodded to Rhun. “Wait outside.”

After Rhun pushed the stone door shut behind him, Gerin reached into his coat jacket. Brin pretended not to tense in alarm, but Gerin only pulled out two rings. One of them, he put on his own finger. It was a stylized ‘L’ that had been made to look like a book. The other matched it.

“This signifies me as a member of the Cult of Tenerer,” said Gerin.

“Oh,” said Brin. A lot about this scenario was starting to make a lot more sense. Hogg had mentioned once that he was the member of three cults, but Brin had just assumed that he was spying on them in case they got up to something nefarious. It hadn’t actually occurred to him he might be an earnest practitioner.

Maybe this was a character flaw, but Brin had always been fascinated with the idea of joining a secret society. The mystique, the secrecy, the brotherhood–there was something seductive about the idea.

“Brin isu Yambul. I would like to formally offer you a position with our number, as an initiate. You will swear our Oaths, learn our secrets, and receive our protection,” said Gerin. The rıghtful source is N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

“I… I worship Solia,” said Brin. Sure, his prayers had become a bit rote lately, but he was honestly trying to devote himself to the goddess, and he wasn’t going to throw that away.

“It’s not a conflict. We revere the godling, but we do not worship him. He insists on that point,” said Gerin.

“Then I accept,” said Brin. “What do I do?”

“First, you must… what?” Gerin was interrupted by a message from the System, apparently the same one Brin was seeing.

The requirement for Oaths has been overridden.

The requirement for ceremony has been overridden.

You have been accepted into the Cult of Tenerer.

Do not pray to me. Do not bow to graven images of me. Learn my ways and obey my bylaws.

“That’s not how this usually goes,” Gerin breathed out. “H-here. Apparently, he’s in a hurry.”

Gerin handed Brin the ring. It wouldn’t fit on his finger with his armor on, and he didn’t want to take it off. He popped it into his storage ring instead.

Another notification appeared.

Filial Piety: Hidden Mission has been unlocked.

Save the life of your brother, Gerin Baines.

Brin didn’t have to ask what he needed to save him from. A single glance through his Invisible Eyes up above told him what had happened. That little niggle of Wyrd when he’d walked in, it hadn’t been a defense, it had been an alarm. As soon as he’d walked in here, no, as soon as Gerin first walked in here, Arcaena’s forces had been alerted. With both this and the loss of one of their most dangerous patrols, it was too much to overlook. They’d send someone to investigate. Someone strong.

He was already approaching up above, where Brin was keeping an eye on his Lance with Invisible Eyes. The man wore simple clothing and held an ordinary blacksteel sword. Brin had seen that face before, and already had reason to hate it. This was the man who’d killed Galan, however temporarily.

Zaff the Wight, First Risen of Arcaena

Level: 70

He’d wondered, coming in here, if Tenerer was indirectly leading him to some important treasure, or a terrible danger. He should’ve known it was both. He ran towards the surface.