Bog Standard Isekai

Rhun and Sion burst through the old and flimsy doors of the shed, banging them open and already moving at a gallop. They carried no bags or any extra weight, except that Rhun had his recently-repaired tower shield and Sion carried Brin’s morphic shield and Lumina’s signet ring. Sion also wore Brin’s face, a small spell that Brin could maintain easily. Marksi sat on Sion’s lap on the horse, though Brin had told them to make Marksi get down and run if he started to weigh them down.

They galloped at top speed down the road and were out of town before anyone noticed they were going. It was a full five minutes before the Wogans were able to muster a response, but when they did, it was extremely thorough. A band of six [Hunters] rode out on horses of their own, as well as a pack of barking dogs.

Sion had predicted that they would give chase. Even though there was no reason Brin and Rhun shouldn’t be allowed to leave, if you fled at that speed away from a [Merchant’s] building, they’d naturally assume that you’d stolen something.

The commotion was meant to draw away the few servants that had been watching the old shed where Sion kept the huge wagon with all his inventory. As careful as he’d been to prepare everything in secret, it had been impossible to keep anyone from getting wind of it, and those watchers were the main reason Brin couldn’t just turn all three of them invisible.

Even the bold exit of two knights-at-arms wasn't completely enough to make all the watchers forget their jobs, so Brin used [Say What’s True] to change their conversations and make each of them think someone else would stay behind. They left. For a moment, he was alone and unobserved.

With the distraction in place, Brin flicked the ropes to get the horses leading the huge wagon moving. He cast Invisibility on himself and the wagon, and made a mirror image of the wagon on top of a pile of boxes they’d all stacked up.

By the time he was through the shed’s doors and onto the road leading away, one of the servants returned to check on it again, then dashed away again when he saw it was still where he’d left it.

Sion had really wanted to be the one with his wagon, but that was impractical for several reasons. First was that Brin’s illusions cost less Mana and were easier to control if he was right there with them. The Mirror Image on the wagon and the false face on Sion would both grow more expensive to maintain the further he got away from them, though [Amplified Casting] would help a lot to negate those costs.

Rather than need to split his mind and summon bunches of Directed Threads, he could run all of it with a single Directed Thread and his Glassmind. The most important factor was the tracks left by the wagon. He sort of had to cover them by drawing the way the road had looked before he crossed back over it when he went around, and a lot of that process needed his direct attention to get it right. It cost Brin more mind-space to get the tracks right than everything else put together.

For smell, he still had some of those no-scent papers Sion had given him in Arcaena, though Sion had offered him more and kept some for himself.

Even with all of that, though, the real reason Brin had stayed behind on the wagon was a lot simpler. He’d eaten way too much and he was feeling sick. Not super sick, nothing like the horrors he’d endured in the war. But sick enough that he didn’t want to be on a galloping horse right now.

He felt even more woozy and fatigued as he rode out of town. He was sweating hard even though they were still in the back end of winter and it felt like the sun was beaming down into his eyes like a laser. Despite how he felt, though, everything went to plan. The Wogans were starting to notice that Sion wasn’t anywhere to be found, and all of their suspicion was focused on the two knights-at-arms fleeing from their compound at full speed.

More people came to check that the wagon was still there, and Brin cringed every time someone reached out to touch it. They’d aligned the wooden boxes with the actual dimensions of the Mirror Image wagon, but eventually someone was going to notice that not all of the wagon was covered or that the texture didn’t match.

As soon as he crossed the bridge over the stream, Brin went off the road, and started to feel a little safer. And sicker. This was worse than he could explain from just over-eating alone, low Vitality or not. Part of how he was feeling had to be because of the poison potions he’d been drinking. He groaned when he remembered he was supposed to take another one soon.

He was determined to keep himself from throwing up, which was an exercise in sheer willpower at this point. Because wouldn’t that just be the most hilarious way for this whole venture to go wrong? For all his measures and tactics, the whole escapade fell apart because someone noticed a pile of vomit on the road.

The men chasing Sion and Rhun didn’t seem to let off, and they weren’t able to throw them off their tail, growing closer and closer all the while. It wasn’t a matter of Skills or the quality of the horses; the Wogans were spending expensive potions on this to give their side an advantage, something Brin should’ve seen coming. After a half hour, they’d caught up enough that it would be a matter of minutes now.

For his part, Brin’s stomach was starting to calm down. He looked up and realized that it was noon. He was supposed to take the next poison from Lumina’s regiment right now.

Brin fumbled with the pocket where he’d stashed it, pulled it out, and drank. It was thick and filmy and he had to swallow several times to get it down. It moved slowly down his esophagus in a very unpleasant way, but there wasn’t any sudden pain when it hit. Instead he felt warmer and warmer, until it was stiflingly hot. That wasn’t a normal way to feel when there was still snow on the ground. He pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, fanning himself with it.

He also felt tired, more tired than he’d felt since Aberfa. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, to keep guiding the wagon, but it was a struggle to hang on, one second at a time.

His Invisible Eyes showed him that the band of [Hunters] chasing Rhun and Sion were near to catching up. Rather than continue the useless flight, they slowed to a stop, and waited atop their horses for the pursuers to arrive.

“Can I help you, peasants?” Sion asked, doing his best impression of Brin’s slight Frenarian accent.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” asked the leader, a level 37 [Hunter] named Nefion.

Sion puffed himself up and looked indignant. “Am I deaf, or did he forget a ‘Sir’?”

“You aren’t deaf, Sir Brin. This is an uncommonly impolite commoner. He must surely be an implant from somewhere, because no true man of Prinnash would forget proper deference,” said Rhun.

“No deference is due to thieves,” said Nefion.

“Oh? And what is it that I’m to have stolen?” asked Sion.

“That’s what I aim to find out. If you’ll allow my men a quick search, we can get this over quick. You’re in such a rush, after all,” said Nefion.

“Absolutely not. Take one step forward and you’ll taste my steel,” Sion said menacingly.

“Now, now, uh, sir, no need to go that far. We only had a couple questions about your abrupt departure, is all. Maybe you’d best come back with us to the estate and–”

“Do you think I’m as dumb as you look? Absolutely not!” Sion really was having a fun time with this, Brin could tell. He always had to act like a Wogan in his normal life, but as soon as Brin put a mask on him, the real mask came off.

Trouble was brewing back towards the house as well. Someone had deployed an Eveladis on the road behind him. It wasn’t a complete surprise that they’d check for illusions. Brin’s status as an [Illusionist] wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but after the Great Conduit, anyone as wealthy and well-connected as the Wogan family would surely know. Brin needed to ask Sion if that was when he found out, or if he’d known before that.

The Eveladis revealed the new tracks he’d made with the wagon, and they looked all the more suspicious because of how they’d been hidden. The Wogans deployed a second set of [Hunters], though this group was only made up of two men. They now knew the exact direction he was moving in; straight towards Aberquay. That was fine, he’d planned on them tracking him at least that far.

With his glass magic, Brin could defeat them easily, but this wasn’t a war, and he couldn’t think in those terms when the stakes were so much lower. He didn’t want to kill two random guys for doing their jobs. He wanted to slip away. No, what he really wanted was to lay down on the bench and fall asleep, trusting that the horses would take him somewhere good all on their own. The fact that it was starting to sound like a good idea was a testament to how drowsy this potion was making him.

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It was also too hot. His skin felt like it was on fire, and every time he blinked his eyes went blurry for a minute, so he was mainly operating on the sight from Invisible Eyes for now.

Meanwhile, Sion was having a good old time verbally abusing his family’s [Hunters]. Brin was convinced that Sion would have been able to talk his way out of this by now, and the only reason he hadn’t was because he was having so much fun with it.

“Not to be impolite, sir, but I’m not asking here. Either turn out your pockets or–”

“You curs. You absolute imbeciles. How dare you? First off, how dare you speak to me? But more importantly how dare you treat a knight-at-arms, a prince of New Edelor, and the son of an [Archmage] like this? Is this the hospitality of the famous Wogan group?”

“You abused our hospitality when you grabbed something and then flew out of there like a bat out of hell,” said Nefion.

“Oh, so that’s what happened. So interesting that you know what happened and I don’t when I was the one that was there,” said Sion.

“If you’re saying that’s not what happened, then you can explain that to–”

“Are your ears just for show? There’s no way they’re just for show because they’re too ugly for that. I’m telling you that Sion asked me to leave, and he asked me to leave quickly. It’s a shame, too, because before that point I thought we were getting along rather well. Sure, I’m just a lowly knight-at-arms and he’s a clever, interesting, rich and handsome–”

“So you’re lowly now?” asked Rhun.

“Ah, Sir Rhun, you are my good friend. We’ve been through many trials together. I was just noting that–”

Rhun looked at Nefion. “We will ride on. Will you stop us? Have your masters authorized you to stop us by force?”

“Of course not. You are knights of the realm, as you’ve repeatedly stated. I have no authority to hinder you in any way, do I?” Nefion didn’t look like he was backing down, though, and Brin began to get nervous.

“Then we agree. Move aside and vex me no longer,” said Sion.

“What we will do instead, is send a letter detailing your actions to your commanders, and beg for an explanation,” said Nefion.

Rhun and Sion met eyes, both probably coming to the same conclusion that Brin was coming to. That would be extremely embarrassing for Brin, and that meant it was something Sion would never do.

“I’m not turning out my pockets. But you can plainly see I carry nothing inside them,” said Rhun.

“You have a spatial artifact. I can smell it,” said Nefion. This guy had pretty incredible senses if he could smell Brin’s ring, but for once that was working in their favor. He was confident enough in his ability to sense anything nearby that he hadn’t thrown down an Eveladis right when he’d arrived. That would’ve revealed Sion. If that had happened, Brin would still get away with the wagon which was the main point of this venture, but at some point he’d have to ride back and spring Sion free again which would’ve been a whole big thing.

“This is a private, personal object, and the contents aren’t for the likes of… of scroungy flee-bitten beast chasers to view,” said Sion.

“If the ring doesn’t contain any Wogan property, I’ll know at once and you can be on your way,” said Nefion.

“And there will be no unfortunate letters?” asked Sion.

“On my word, and the word of the Wogan family, sir,” said Nefion.

Sion put in a few more choice insults, but eventually, he relented and handed the ring over. This part was a little tricky, because Sion couldn't actually wear the ring. He could only carry it in a bag with Brin's permission. Nefion couldn't touch it at all without triggering the alarm, but luckily he didn't need to in order to fire off whatever Skill he had for this. He simply looked inside the bag, stared for a entire half-minute, and then handed it back with an apology.

“Now depart, foul ones,” Sion ordered.

“Oh? But we’re going your way. Don’t worry, the road is long. We’ll hang behind and won’t be a bother,” said Nefion.

So the crew was going to follow Sion and Rhun anyway.

Brin’s own pursuers were catching up, too, but not fast enough to be a problem. He reached the walls of Aberquay with time to spare and the busy traffic near the entry gates completely covered the tracks of the wagon. The hardest part was driving through the scattered crowds while invisible without tipping anyone off, while at the same time being so tired that he could hardly see, but somehow he got through.

He went off the road again a little bit, and hopped down off the wagon. His body did not like that. He had to sit down on the dirt for a second to endure a dizzy spell, but then he was right back up and getting to work. He went to each wheel and gave it a layer of glass around the rim. This would make the tracks a bit wider, and hopefully, they’d look like different tracks than the [Hunters] had been following up to this point.

Then he picked a point in town that Sion had told him about–yes, there. Behind a warehouse near the docks, Brin created a Mirror Image of the Sion’s wagon. This was in Bedham Mercantile Consortium, a rival of Sion’s family. He timed it so that no one was looking in that direction when the wagon appeared, but even so, there were immediate signs of surprise and confusion, especially since it still displayed the Wogan family crest.

It was only a few minutes before someone touched it and realized it wasn’t real, but even that amount of time was enough for Brin’s purposes. Through his Invisible Eyes, he saw word get back to the Wogans in the city that the Bedhams had their wagon, and now the leaders of their respective branches were engaged in a fierce, angry, but smiling conversation. When the [Hunters] arrived in the city, they were immediately drawn into the drama.

That was solved, easy as pie, and now he just had to decide on a direction. He could continue on going straight away from the Wogan’s, but that’s what they’d expect him to do. On a coinflip, he went left. Taking no road and going cross country would only work if they couldn’t follow his trail, but the [Hunters] were being careful to use another Eveladis every so often so that they wouldn’t lose it. Back on the road, mixed in with all the other tracks, it would be a lot harder for them to tell if he’d really been there.

Brin made as much distance as he could between himself and Aberquay while they sorted that out. Hopefully… wow, he was getting sleepy. What had he been thinking about? Hopefully he’d get far enough away that even if they figured out the trick with the wheels, the trail would go cold before they could catch up.

He kept to the main road, following the coast from Aberquay towards Bragova for a time, then turned right at a crossroads while taking the glass additions off of his wagon wheels. He rode that until he reached another crossroads and then headed back towards the highway after adding a different set of false rims on the wheels.

Brin physically kept his eyes open with his fingers as he rode along. The jostling movement of the road had been painful on his stomach when he’d first started, but now it was soothing, like was being rocked to sleep.

He kept onward for two hours, and still the [Hunters] after him were still in Aberquay. The easiest way for Sion to get his cargo out of the country would be by boat, so the Wogans assumed that’s what he’d done. They were desperately trying to search every single ship in the harbor while hiding what they were doing. Meanwhile, the Bedham’s were equally desperately trying to stop them, despite not really knowing why.

Did that mean he’d done it? Had he gotten away? It looked that way, but he needed to be vigilant. He rested his head back on the wooden seat, just for a moment, and immediately fell asleep.

He startled awake again, in a panic. He thrashed wildly, trying to stand, trying to see what the danger was. He hit something hard and his body felt like it was covered in heavy weights. His eyes were blurry and he couldn’t see right. He grabbed for his spear, but it was nowhere to be found.

He… he was still on the wagon. He laughed, looking around. There was no one around; everything was fine. It was hard to believe, because he’d made a mistake, and when Brin made a mistake bad things happened.

But that was during the war. This wasn’t like those times. This was a funny little escapade, Sion was only in danger of inconvenience and none of them were in danger of death. It was fine if he was caught, and it didn’t even look like he’d been caught.

The horses had followed the road and he was still invisible. They moved aside on their own when someone came towards them from the other direction on the road, and they’d avoided crashing into anyone while invisible. Looking through his Invisible Eyes, he saw that the [Hunters] after him hadn’t left Aberquay. A very suspicious cargo ship, probably actual smugglers, had cast off right when the Wogans had begun to poke around, so now everyone was sure Sion and his wagon were on it.

As for Sion and Rhun, they were riding alone again. The [Hunters] after them had let them go. As much as he’d built this up in his mind to be something of a heist, they’d gotten away cleanly. He said a prayer of thanks to Solia, and then ordered a thread to let Sion and Rhun know where to meet him.

They were quite a bit ahead of him, so by the time he caught up it was late afternoon and they’d already set up camp, at least as much as they could while he carried all the supplies. They’d found a log for sitting, created a campfire, and found a pasture for the horses.

“Is that really what you think I sound like?” Brin said as soon as he let the invisibility drop.

“My friend, who knows you better than I? I have studied your words and affectations most eagerly, in case of a chance like this. My performance was perfection itself!” said Sion.

“You made me sound like a hotheaded, spoiled young noble,” said Brin.

“Yes, as I said, I have studied you quite thoroughly,” said Sion, then broke into gales of laughter.

“He did quite well. I sometimes forgot it wasn’t really you along with us,” said Rhun.

Marksi looked back and forth between Brin and Sion in exaggerated surprise. Two Brins?

“I can’t believe you used the ‘How dare you speak to me?’ line,” said Brin, hopping down from the wagon.

“My friend, it was a delight, truly the crowning pleasure of my life. Ever since you said that to Rhun, those words have come into my head at least six times a day, though I never had the nerve to speak them,” said Sion.

Grinning, Brin said, “Ok, ok, but what about the last part. Oh, Sion is so rich and handsome!”

“Admittedly, that was when my disguise began to break down,” said Sion. “I imagine that you describe me in terms that are even more flattering.”

“That’s true,” said Brin with a shrug.

Rhun nodded. “Yes, that is actually true.”

Sion paused. “It is? Wait, really? What does he say?”

Eventually they got around to settling in for the night for real. Sion worked together with the two of them to pack up the tent. Despite the fact that Rhun and Brin were so used to the work that they could do it without thinking, Sion wanted to be part of everything.

Brin made dinner, only after promising Sion that he’d let him wash up. Sion asked him to make whatever they’d eaten on patrol, so Brin had dutifully proceeded to make the most ordinary bean and grain porridge of his entire life. It was so dull and tasteless that it brought tears to Sion's eyes. “If only my whole life could be like this.”

They talked as the fire died down, and exhausted the stories of their respective escapes, stories which grew in each retelling, exaggerated to the point of no longer resembling the actual day’s events. Brin’s mind began moving towards the future.

They should really be going to sleep, especially him, but for some reason he wasn’t tired any more. He asked Sion, “What can you tell me about our new home? Let’s talk about Steamshield.”