Chapter 6 - A Bad Day Wraps Up

Always determine who the policies are built for and become that person. If the society is geared toward the aristocrat then be pompous and rich, if the society is based on the good of all, be a simple man - friend to all. If a religious society? - why be a priest. Should you ever find yourself in a place where only those wearing green neckwear are rulers, then buy a scarf, a green scarf. -Sharlashtri Elder Voxtone on Social Infiltrations

Nash followed the man who had introduced himself as Bassil up the stairs. Bassil was a strange character, always grinning in a fashion that made him seem simple. That he wasn’t simple, at least in matters concerning his job, was easily apparent from their brief conversation. Nash had more than decided to play along with this scenario even though he still thought he was stuck in a dream the enemy or possibly even his own people were inducing on him. And he felt the best way not to surrender any vital information was to play along, submerging himself in the role. Several of his systems were designed just for this, controlling his autonomic response which might indicate a lying or untruthful behavior. If the systems worked correctly, how he acted should not reveal any information. Solaria had given him a cover story to use with Corvain. Simple and for the most part, unverifiable. Nash considered the cover story to be ideal and he was ready to move along to the next step of this ordeal. So, I finally get to meet my benefactor, Pit Lord Corvain.

The stairs going up were wide enough for four people side by side and ended at a landing with a single door. The door opened in and Bassil reached in to knock on the already open door. “Sir, Nash is here. You want I should stay?”

“Yes Bassil, please stay,” came the reply. Bassil motioned for Nash to step past him into the room.

Nash slowly entered the room. It was a large room with a large cherry desk monopolizing the center of the room. In front of the desk were two wooden chairs also made from cherry wood. The room had two open windows on opposite sides allowing a view of the cityscape. Looking out he could see the city in both directions with a river dominating the view in the window to his left. Having already decided to treat this as a military situation, he stood at rest, as if in front of a superior officer. Until he decided otherwise he would consider Corvain his superior officer.

Looking at Corvain, he saw a man in his late 30's of with broad shoulders who might have once been very muscular. He was dressed in blue colored silken pants and shirt. His black hair was straight with flecks and streaks of grey in it. He kept his hair cut short enough that it couldn’t be tied back. His bushy mustache also contained similar flecks of grey. Other than the hard green eyes watching Nash like a hunter might view some elusive prey, Nash would not consider this man a threat, at least not any more than he would consider anyone else a threat. Those eyes spoke of a focused ambition which would neither allow for distraction nor suffer any failure.

“I take it you are Nash?

“Yes Sir, that is correct.”

“That your full name?”

“Yes Sir, Nash is my full name.”

“Very direct, and very respectful. I admire that quality in my fighters. As you have just arrived, understand that makes me very skeptical. Especially considering our guest this morning,” Corvain said.

Standing up to walk over to a window and look at the river, wondering if any of the specks he could see in the distance might be his new ship, Corvain continued, “Do you know why you are here?”

“Yes sir, I do. I am here to fight as a gladiator for you. I am your property, and my life is only valuable as long as you find value in it. I am a career soldier of too many battles. Fighting is nothing new to me.”

“Hmmph. More of the perfect response. Care to tell me of your visit this morning?” Corvain quickly added the last part, trying to throw Nash with a sudden change of topic.

Not even pausing, Nash responded the way an honest response would have been worded. “She wished to know of my past. Her name was Solaria, and she then talked to me of the present. She mentioned that like the others, I am to stay in this time and my past has no relevance. Since I was already a seasoned fighter, little will change for me. She added she will take some of the others you brought forward and help them readjust to this time but that her time was wasted on me.” Nash added this last part, knowing that he had told Bassil different. A slight change in the story would throw them off as they realized it was trivial information and more or less lined up with what he had told each of them separately.

Even though Nash was going to treat Corvain like a superior, he still considered him the enemy, and therefore subject to having his responses gauged, something Nash did very well. He was not disappointed.

Corvain quickly glared at Bassil. “You told me that the Kristor bitch said that there would be no retribution. I have some good fighters they are going to try and steal”

Bassil could only apologize, looking abashed with his highly expressive face mimicking that of a child caught somewhere he shouldn’t be. “I am so sorry, master. I did not talk to the priestess, I was simply relaying what Nash told me.”

With both men now looking at Nash, he took it upon himself to speak without being spoken to. “That is what she said. No retribution. However, she also said that she would be taking the others shortly. I daresay that she did not consider such an act retribution.”

“Very well. That is really easy to fix, I guess. Those warriors are top quality warriors. Bassil, arrange to have them traded immediately and if you can’t find a good trade, have them sold for whatever. I want them out of my stables before I am relieved of their services, Understood? Make sure whoever you trade them doesn’t have enough clout to come back at me for dealing in bad faith.”

“Understood” Bassil knew better than to leave right now as the command implied. Leaving Corvain alone with an unknown fighter would be unacceptable.

“Did the priestess tell you anything else, Nash?”

“No sir, she just filled me in on current events and such, to help acclimatize me to these new surroundings. She seemed largely curious about my past, if that helps.”

“I am also very curious about your past, that you seem so willing to accept your current situation. Please, tell me a story, and fill me in on just who my newest fighter really is,” Corvain said, genuinely interested now.

“As am I,” said a slow and commanding voice from the doorway. Slowly walking in as if he was the true lord of the house, a skinny man slightly shorter than average with neatly trimmed black hair and beard spoke up again, continuing with a slow drawl to his voice. “Forgive the intrusion, Master Corvain, but I hear today has been a rather eventful day for you.”

Upon seeing the man was dressed in black and red colors of Slodan and his gang, Bassil assumed that this man was one of the Judge’s guard. This was not allowable, no way no how, not without invitation, not on Corvain’s property, not even if it was Slodan himself. Reacting with a grace born of years of fighting and a grace which looked impossible for a man so muscle-bound and bulking, Bassil had his sword out and was standing between the stranger just inside the doorway and the desk. Corvain moved back behind the desk in reflex to being startled by the intrusion. Nash, also surprised by both the sudden entrance and Bassil’s movements, took a few steps to his right placing his back to the window.

“What are you doing here, Arthyon, you were not invited and not due for several more weeks. I do not appreciate such an intrusion. Not in the slightest!” Corvain said with anger in his voice.

The stranger, named as Arthyon, had stopped walking forward once doing so meant he would impale himself on Bassil’s outstretched sword. “Is this any way to treat someone who has helped you so much in the past, Corvain? Who wishes to help you so much in the future?”

Corvain hated how slowly Arthyon talked, as if each word was imminently important, as if each word in and of itself carried the weight of nations. His slow drawl was full of arrogance and implied that his listeners were to slow to comprehend faster speech. However slow his speech, what happened next was faster than anything Corvain or Bassil had ever witnessed before. Nash had seen humans move that fast before but only when augmented by full cybernetics.

With a movement to fast for any but Nash’s cyborg eyes to catch, Arthyon reached his left hand into the sleeve of his right arm and pulled out a lavish ornately carved black ebony hilt. As soon as the hilt cleared the fabric, a shiny dark grey blade materialized. Arthyon swept his sword down sharply connecting the edge of his blade at an angle below the blade guard of Bassil’s sword, right above his grasping hand. In one fluid motion, his sword was then reversed in his hand with the blade concealed from the front, running up the back length of his arm sticking out above from behind his shoulder. Nash thought it looked almost identical to a Katana. A student of ancient weapons himself, Nash was more interested in hilt made of carved jade and found the overall craftsmanship to be much more fascinating than the fact that Arthyon was standing at rest once again before the majority of Bassil’s sword hit the floor. He is an experienced martial artist, probably a master. Completely at rest, just coiled to react. Easily the most dangerous man in the room, Nash thought to himself.

Bassil couldn’t hide the shock that all he held in his hand was a useless piece of metal which used to be the hilt of his prized sword. The remains of the hilt didn’t even have the cross guard anymore, the cut of Arthyon’s blade and been so close it had slid across Bassil’s hand without cutting it. He literally had a memory of the cold metal sliding across the top of his hand and had to look closely at his hand to make sure it wasn’t injured.

Corvain spoke up to save face. He knew what Arthyon was, or at least thought he knew, and if it was true Bassil wouldn’t even be a distraction if Arthyon wanted him dead. “Stand down Bassil. This man is my guest. Would you be so kind, Bassil, as to find someone to bring some tea up for us? Duneberry herb tea, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Bassil turned and gave Corvain a perplexed look. “Sir?”

“Go now, Bassil,” Corvain said softly. One could take his words as being fatherly and caring for a devoted employee, but those qualities did not exist in Corvain. He just knew how to best motivate people, and right now, Bassil needed a stern, but caring voice. Bassil picked up the larger piece of his sword and quickly exited the room.

“Now, where were we” Arthyon began slowly. “Oh yes, oh yes, our dark skinned friend here was about to tell us his history, I do believe.”

Ignoring Arthyon’s directive, Corvain blurted in. “Just how did you get in without notice. You’re the second person today who has arrived inside my estate unannounced and this is getting annoying. I do have guards, you could at least acknowledge that out of courtesy or something.”

“I am the second? Who was the first” Arthyon said, only slightly more hurriedly than his normal speech. He said it with a smile in appreciation for Corvain’s heated humor.

“A priestess of Kristor was here. She knew about the spell Kern used and spoke with my newest retrieval here.” He motioned in general toward Nash with his left hand. “Nash is his name.”

“Greetings,” Nash said as Arthyon’s gaze looked upon him and then through him.

Arthyon just stared at him. “Don’t resist, I don’t have time to question you, I need to know now who you are and what Kristor’s time maiden wanted with you.”

With no warning, a searing pain shot through Nash’s head. Totally unaccustomed to such a feeling, he fell to his knees with a cry of pain. Images and memories started playing through his mind at such a speed that they made little sense. Nash quickly realized that these images and memories were not his own, but the memories of the identity Solaria had given him to tell others. Odd as it was, he was seeing himself in the memories. Somehow, while Solaria was verbally telling him of a new identity, she had implanted memories to match as well.

And the implanted memories worked. Arthyon was satisfied with his mind scan. “Have no fear, Corvain. His memories reveal he is just a warrior. From about two centuries back, from the appearance of the cityscape in his mind. He was abandoned as a babe and raised as a slave at the shipyards until he was purchased to be a fighter in the pits briefly before joining the army. He has received full training but became a soldier before he received any renown. But he is an excellent warrior, with a perfect record for the brief time he fought for money.”

Nash regained his feet. His head still hurt something fierce, but the pain was quickly subsiding. What had this Arthyon done to him? It felt to Nash that he had every memory, false though they were, surface at the same time. It was not a natural feeling. For a second, Nash had a scared feeling he had seen his life pass before his eyes, but that feeling left quickly when he found he wasn’t dying.

Arthyon was no longer concerned with Nash. He did make a mental note that something did not seem right as he was digging through Nash’s memories, but it was nothing to be alarmed at. More important matters were at hand. He had scried enough rebuilt memories that he was an expert at detecting the footprints left behind by such activities. Only someone of greater skill could accomplish a set of false memories so complete that it would fool him, and no living person in the world possessed a greater skill than he. In his arrogance, he simply did not consider the possibility that a god might have intervened. Of course, for Arthyon, even that consideration might seem absurd had he given it merit - when it came to matters of the mind, not even a god could compare.

Corvain sat down at his desk with elbows propped on the tabletop and fingers rubbing his temples. He studied the pattern of the grain in his desktop. Whoever the carpenter had been, he had done a superb job of sanding the surface smooth. Grumbling, “Well, you’re here Arthyon. I will not deny I owe you a lot, just your sudden visit is unsettling on a day of unsettling events. Please forgive my short temper, but as you say each and every visit, we are not friends, just allies currently seeking a similar goal.”

“And I will say it again. Though I will never call you friend, for I despise your type, you may well want to call me friend after today. Fortune has smiled on you this day, my ally. I believe that an abandoned ship was found at sea by some of your ships. A black war galley known as the Dark Kraken. I and my brethren arranged for its sudden abandonment. And believe me, outside of the cargo with which you have been or shortly will be graciously rewarded a finder’s fee, no one will be making any claims on it.”

“Whose ship was it. Not that I don’t trust you, but I would hate to be confronted by some surprise disgruntled former owner or friend thereof anytime in the future.”

“I assure you, no such owner or friend thereof will ever be seen. But if it matters, this ship is SardÆ and was running a load of rare spices and wines from Zylonica,” Arython answered.

“Really? Then the finder’s fee is small indeed. Too bad the ancestral rights of the Moraliks preclude me from claiming the cargo as mine. But a Sard ship. And a war galley you say? That is worth ten normal cargo ships easy. As far as I know, less than thirty Sard ships call Kraylin their home port. You realize, don’t you, that you just jumped my status ten fold in this city?

“Yes, we do. And with that, the attention that wealth brings from those who are wealthier and those who are not,” Arthyon replied evilly, the humor seeping through in each word.

“Yes, you do, don’t you. That ship will almost be more curse that blessing. I have not the money nor the holdings to justify the attention it will bring me” moaned Corvain, rubbing his temples even harder now. “With that kind of bulls-eye, every Judge in Kraylin will be telling me the virtues of how they can protect me and my property from random violence for small fees. I could hide the other ships, but a Sard ship could bring the wrath of even the Guild Lords.”

“You must endure for only a month. This ship will bring you friends also, in fact, a good friend will be looking after your interests in the near future. The timetable for our plan has been escalated. In two months it will be Emperor Thargax’s thirty-first hundred birthday. It is largely unannounced but will be known to all in the next few days. He is throwing a celebration unmatched, not since he turned 3000 a century ago. Many are invited, and many will attend. The general announcement will break early next week. In four weeks, another announcement will break. It will be the new guests of honor which weren’t announced originally. Lord Falcron is supposed to be in attendance. This means that even more will be attending from Kraylin and Drynthia in honor of one of their legends.”

“It is a month and a half journey by sea, but the Dark Kraken should be able to do it in a month given that it is able to handle both deeper waters and fewer calls to port along the way. Only the richest will be able to afford magical teleports, the rest will more than likely travel via sea,” Arthyon explained. “You will arrange for two things. Your ship will be available for the run, so you must secure a competent pilot and navigator, with a crew to match. And then you will arrange special deals for passengers to travel on your new ship. Here is a list of nobles and important personages you will make sure have passage on the ship. Then fill up the passenger list as you can. Charge whatever you will, but make sure that they accept passage and are on board in time to make the celebration.”

With that Arthyon reached into his robes and pulled out a small red leather satchel. “In there you will also find an invitation for you and four guests should you wish to go, though I would imagine you SHOULD wish to stay in Kraylin,” Arthyon hinted, amused quietly to himself knowing full well the temptation to go would drive Corvain mad.

“A lot can happen in a month, Arthyon. But I will make it so. I still wonder what you benefit? But it will be so. Thank you for your help again, Arthyon.” Truly, Corvain did wonder at Arthyon’s benefit. He was sure it was there. As a businessman himself, he knew that for someone of Arthyon’s stature and power to go to this length, the payoff must be immeasurable.

And Corvain knew there was a grave risk in this transaction while working with Arthyon. If any of the Guild Lord’s found out, Corvain could expect certain death.

About a year ago, Arthyon had appeared and helped him out of business deal gone bad. More accurately, he helped him clean up the results of the deal gone bad, as in helping eliminate a rival pit lord and his family with no questions ever being asked about Corvain’s involvement. Corvain’s best spies could never even come close to figuring how it was done, though he didn’t have them press too hard for fear that they might lead clues back to him.

Slowly, and in a manner Corvain never understood, he had started to confide in Arthyon about his constant torment from Judge Slodan. Arthyon then presented a plan by which not only would Slodan be eliminated at Corvain’s leisure, but a plan that could quite possibly land Corvain a shot at becoming a Guild Lord himself someday. His plan was actually only for the removal of Slodan’s mandate. Yet Corvain saw in it a magnificent opportunity to maneuver himself into a much higher clique of Kraylin’s culture. As Corvain worked on his part of the plan, with Arthyon’s occasional guidance in the form of suggestions, Corvain became confident that he would end up as a Guild Lord within a decade. The ship, the money from the finder’s fee, and the fact that almost anyone who was of import would be away from Kraylin was ideal. Two months from now would be the perfect time to enact the plan Arthyon had whispered into his ear many months ago.

The risk was not simple. Whatever benefit Corvain might achieve, he knew that Arthyon didn’t give a damn about it. Arthyon had his own agenda and Corvain could only hope that since he could think of no way he might be interfering with Arthyon’s business, whatever that may be, that Arthyon was actually neutral whether or not Corvain succeeded. He would be Arthyon’s pawn and just be careful that no actual part of his plan depended on Arthyon’s aid. That Arthyon had just stated as matter of fact that the timetable had been escalated as if he were in charge and Corvain was an underling bothered him. He wouldn’t show it or complain, but a hard knot of worry was working its way up his stomach into his chest. That Arthyon was now providing means and actual support in a form more than helpful ideas also bothered him. It meant that Arthyon was now willing to take actual risks. And tangible risks might leave a possible trail back to Corvain. And when nefarious deeds were being done, it was those who made the paper trail who often ended up dead.

That he was bothered was ultimately of little concern to Corvain. He was a man who took risks. It still didn’t stop a stress headache from coming on. Holding onto all the hassles his newest ship would create for just a single month could be a true test of his survival skills once word got out.

Corvain noticed that Nash was still in the room looking intently out the window. He was not fooled for a second that Nash wasn’t listening, but going over the conversation in his mind, he knew that Nash wouldn’t be able to garner anything useful for anyone. As Corvain looked from Nash back to Arthyon, he could see the disdain in the man’s face. Arthyon hadn’t forgotten about Nash, he just didn’t care. The disdain was clearly for Corvain as a man.

Bassil came walking back up the stairs, a tray carrying five bronze cups and a pitcher of hot tea being carefully balanced in two hands. He had a hesitant smile on his face as he slowly moved into the room and placed it on the table near the door. Once it was on the table, he poured a cup of tea for Corvain and Arthyon, put one of the full cups in front of Corvain, and left the rest of the cups on the tray. If Arthyon wanted some tea, he could at least reach forward and get it himself. Bassil then moved back to the corner of the room by the door and behind Arthyon.

Arthyon briefly thought of trying some tea then decided against it. With his purpose for the visit finished he said, “I will be leaving now. None of you will ever see me again. As I have said, we are not friends, just allies of a common purpose. This time in two months, our purposes will no longer coincide. I hope I never have purpose to visit this vile city again and don’t expect to. I know you worry about my motives. Don’t. No matter what happens your end goal has no relevance to my desires but serves my purpose for now. Your aid now will more than make up for the efforts I have made on your behalf so fear not that I will come to collect someday. Good luck Corvain.”

“Good luck and good riddance to you, ally. I hope that all my hard work, stress, worrying and suffering helps you realize your goals. Maybe it will at least amuse you, ally.” All this was said, then shouted to the back of the retreating Arthyon who was already out the door and out of sight heading down the stairs before Corvain finished.

Turning to Bassil, “Follow him quickly, Bassil. I want to know how he comes and goes so easily”

“Yes sir.” And with that Bassil was out the door attempting to catch up.

Corvain was fairly certain he knew how Arthyon came and went. Arthyon had plagued Corvain with doubts because he was the one variable in his plans that wasn’t only unpredictable but was a total unknown. So much so that he had spent a considerable fortune trying to unearth any information he could about him. Not even Lilith had been of help.

Corvain sat back down and sipped his tea for a few moments. He then started to engage Nash in conversation of just what was expected in the next few weeks of him. With everything else today, Corvain had to admit he was really taking a liking to Nash quickly and that was rare.

Moments later, Bassil entered the room. “Sir, I could not find him. The guards at the base of the stairs never saw him enter or leave. I circled the perimeter of the building and have the guards searching the grounds, besides us three, no one has seen him.”

Corvain then had Bassil resume his post at the door and continued to talk to Nash. Bassil went and stood at guard next to the door, hand protectively on a new sword he had found somewhere while getting tea. In the back of his mind, Corvain just kept wondering about the tidbit of information that had caused him to stop investigating Arthyon. A reliable source had sent back a single message. “Beware, Arthyon is Sharlashtri. They do exist and such knowledge in others annoys them.”