Chapter 409
Though the Valis River was as busy as ever, with fishermen heading upstream and mercantile vessels moving south, both had moved their bases of operations away from the central part of the docks, where a city of white silk and golden wood now stood.
The grime from the fish markets, the smell of tar and brine, and the shouts of laborers had all been washed away, replaced by the overpowering scent of incense and the melodic chanting of hundreds of acolytes.
Banners in sea-green and crimson-gold fluttered in the breeze, creating a canopy that turned the sunlight into a hazy, dreamlike glow. Although they were occasionally interrupted by pavilions guarded by other faiths, it was clear that the temples of Sashara and Ulter now held nearly complete control over the city's spiritual affairs.
“It’s kind of beautiful," Tim admitted, looking around with wide eyes. He held a skewer of grilled squid in one hand and a bag of candied nuts in the other. "In a terrifying, cult-like sort of way.”
"Don't overeat the nuts," Nick murmured, his eyes scanning the crowd. “There is no poison, but I can sense a strange resonance within them. You might end up with more than a sugar high.”
Tim went to drop the bag immediately.
"Relax," Bellamy chuckled, picking up the bag and popping a nut into his mouth. "It’s just a minor blessing the priests like to cast. Think of it as a free buff that lets you indulge without giving you a stomachache.”
Nick didn’t smile. It might have been harmless, but after the beatdown Politod had given him, he was much more cautious about missing important details, and he needed to be at his best if he wanted this whole messed-up operation to go smoothly.
Well, ‘smoothly' might be a stretch, considering the tangle of interests and plots converging at once, but I’ll see it as a victory if the city isn’t under the priests’ control and we’re still alive when this is over.
To the casual observer, they appeared to be just four students from the Tower enjoying the first day of the Festival of Renewal. They wore casual robes, laughed at the street performers, and tossed copper coins into the fountains.
But to Nick’s [Empyrean Intuition], the festival felt like a suffocating haze, and it was only because of his high charisma that he managed to deliver a convincing performance.
Valeriana hadn't lied when she said they’d be using it as a fulcrum to expand their influence. The surrounding ether was thick with a golden-green mist of Gratitude and Submission that clung to everything, from the buildings and the people to the very air. It pressed against Nick’s mana, making his internal reserves feel heavy and sluggish.
It wouldn’t be enough to stop him from casting or even slow him down, but considering this was the first day and things were only about to ramp up, it promised to be quite annoying.
It’s not even something they are actively directing, at least not yet, Nick realized, watching a group of children laugh as a priest conjured water-butterflies. But if someone with the proper power and skill decided to take advantage of it, they could cast some truly powerful magic.
“Anything new?” He asked with a whisper of wind.
Eona nodded, seemingly looking at a necklace but catching his eyes with her reflection in a silver mirror, and murmured, “The two priests of Sashara we picked up at the beginning are still watching us, and some of Ulter’s are starting to notice.”
Nick gave a brief nod. With so many people all around him, it was better to have multiple eyes on the task, especially since he kept getting distracted by the overwhelming concentration of positive emotions in the air.
“I can sense them,” he replied, though he made a note that it wasn’t just the fire goddess worshippers trailing them. A more subtle, yet equally interested cleric of Eztie had been taking a roundabout approach around them, all while never actually losing sight of them.
Some of it is that we are probably among the first mages to wander in, I’m sure, but I can’t discount that they expect some kind of sabotage. They have to realize that while the Tower as an institution can’t act, that doesn’t mean its mages will accept their aggression passively.
“Bellamy, block their line of sight. Tim, trip.”
"What?" Tim squeaked.
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“Trip up. Create a minor disturbance.”
Tim, bless his nervous heart, didn't hesitate and stumbled into a rack of wind chimes, causing a spectacular crash.
In the ensuing chaos of apologies and ringing bells, Bellamy stepped in front of the Sashara priests with his broad shoulders, pretending to be interested in collecting the chimes. Nick and Eona slipped into the crowd's flow, disappearing downstream.
“We’re in the clear,” Eona reported, and Nick had to stifle a smile at how seriously she was taking her role. She came from a military family, and this was a genuinely important operation, but it was still a bit funny.
They moved further into the festival, toward the main street leading to the main stage, and started to work their magic.
At a pavilion where a priest was healing minor cuts with glowing water, Nick brushed past and subtly infused a tiny amount of [Mire of Avarice] into the ambient mana, so quickly that he himself would have had a hard time following it.
The priest frowned as the water turned a slightly murky grey. The cut was still healed, minor wound that it was, but the man receiving the healing looked at the priest with suspicion, especially when he was dismissed rather abruptly.
The people in line noticed this change, and a few peeled away, choosing not to test their luck.
At a choir stand, Nick used subtle wind weaving to change the acoustics, and suddenly, the harmonious singing sounded off, as if the singers were out of tune. The crowd shifted uneasily.
Piece by piece, Nick introduced imperfection. A faltering spell here. A sour taste there. A sudden chill in the warm breeze, combined with a feeling that something was wrong.
It wasn't anything that would leave a permanent stain, and each instance could be explained by someone making a mistake along the way, but overall, they started to taint the atmosphere just enough to allow the ether’s eddies to begin flowing again.
“I can see him,” Eona hissed once he finished disrupting another stall, and Nick followed her gaze.
Standing near the support pillars of the massive white stone stage was a figure dressed in a grey, hooded cloak. He looked out of place among the bright, festive colors, but he stayed in the shadows, avoiding notice for now.
Nick watched as Marius paced around the stage. He checked the sightlines, guard rotations, and appeared to be looking for a good spot to position himself when the time came to act.
“He’s not being very subtle,” Eona murmured, and Nick had to nod.
Technically, Marius was doing nothing wrong for the moment, but he’d been noticed by more than one priest, who was watching him, waiting for him to do something.
When Nick reached out with his senses, carefully skirting the edge of Marius’s volatile emotional field, he detected a lot of hate and nervousness, but more importantly, a sense of righteousness had been added to the mix, turning the whole thing into a dangerously volatile cocktail.
“We can’t do anything about him yet,” he eventually decided. “He’s being watched by too many people, ironically enough, and he might do something reckless if we move now. I don’t think he’ll act today, but we should still keep a close eye on him.”
Eona didn’t like that, but she followed his lead, and they spent the rest of the morning in a tense game of cat and mouse.
The priests would watch them before moving on to Marius, clearly considering him the more volatile threat, while the boy kept going, unaware that he’d already been spotted, scouting the whole area.
Nick moved behind him, sowing discord and taking advantage of Marius absorbing much of the attention. He soured the wine at the communion tables, dampened the glow of the holy lanterns, and by the afternoon, he could feel the gratitude in the ether fraying. The oppressive golden mist was thinning, giving way to a subtle undercurrent of irritation and confusion from the crowd.
It was enough to make him hope he wouldn’t have to resort to more direct methods. If I just keep this up for the next couple of days, no matter how powerful the blessing they cast is, it won’t be able to affect the ether.
That was precisely when he sensed a strong presence coming into his range.
A tall man was walking down the center of the main thoroughfare, and Nick angled himself to get a good look, momentarily ignoring Eona’s alarm.
Judging by the quick reaction of the priests in blue, it was easy to see this had to be a high-ranking clergyman, and he eventually overheard a whispered prayer from a woman calling him Tidemaster Ismal.
Ismal wore loose robes that shifted and flowed with every movement, and had skin the color of weathered teak and a foaming white beard.
Something was resting just above his brow, yet his eyes showed no sign of it, which only made Nick tense up more, knowing it had to be a powerful artifact.
More importantly, as the old man strolled down the avenue, people’s spirits were lifted, and the sourness Nick had planted in the ether evaporated. The flickering lights stabilized, burning brighter than before. The discordant acoustics realigned into a perfect, heavenly harmony.
It was subtle work, possibly even subconscious, but Nick couldn’t help the despair that gripped him as he felt almost all his hard work being undone.
Politod’s warning echoed in his mind, and Nick had to admit he’d truly been too arrogant, thinking he could pull the wool over such old monsters.
"Nick?" Eona asked softly, sensing his distress.
Nick stared at the Tidemaster, who was now blessing a kneeling line of children, then turned away abruptly. “Come on, we have to go,” he said, barely noticing that Marius, too, had scurried off, frightened by the old man’s presence.
By the time they reconnected with Tim and Bellamy, Eona was nearly bursting with questions, but managed to hold them back until they were safely inside the Tower.
“Will you tell me what happened?!” she finally exclaimed, and Nick sighed.
He then explained just how easily the Tidemaster had undone his work, which deflated her.
Surprisingly, Tim appeared the least defeated of all. “Come on, we knew it wouldn’t be that simple, or the priests wouldn’t have needed a month of preparation.”
Nick slowly nodded. “I suppose so, it’s just a bit disheartening to know the sheer disparity in power between us isn’t going to be bridged by effort.”
Tim snorted harshly, drawing Nick’s confused gaze.
“Sometimes, you seem so perfect that it’s hard to believe you are younger than me, and then you say things like that. Of course it’s not easy!” Tim’s voice rose enough that Nick flicked a bubble of wind around them to prevent anyone else from overhearing, but he didn’t stop him. This was clearly something his friend needed to get off his chest, and maybe it would help him too.
“The Tidemaster, the Bishop, and all the other priests are incredibly powerful people! They are essentially as strong as the entire Western nobility when it comes to sheer firepower. The only reason they’ve been staying so subtle is that the Tower has monsters equal to or greater than theirs in reserve, so don’t blame yourself for not taking them all down in a single day! It’s honestly ridiculous, and you’re better than that!”
Well, when it comes to pep talks, I prefer this approach over Politod’s.