Patrick Laplante
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PtM 18 - Chapter 10: Misdirection
🕑 Added 2023-06-28 14:10:05 +0000 UTC3 chapters this week. I'll post a second one right away since I was late. Enjoy ^^.
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After many weeks of waiting, Oster Fireblight – the real Oster Fireblight – received confirmation of Cha Ming’s arrival in the realm of good and evil. The painter had really outdone himself – he had arrived with an impressive array of imitation mercenary ships, and had even managed to pass through the outer shield’s inspection.
Yet Oster did not move to alert anyone. All required preparations had already been made. Using one of his skills, he was able to watch as the fake Oster made his way to the Tree of Good and Evil, presented the plan that he himself had meticulously prepared, and obtained the approval of the majority of the Council of Cardinals.
Alas, he wasn’t able to follow Cha Ming into the Root Prison. He could only enjoy a cup of tea and blood berry biscuits as he awaited the end result. A fire crackled merrily beside Oster and the large mirror of the blighted coin, through which he monitored a good portion of the Realm of Good and Evil despite its many safeguards.
Only three individuals were aware of Oster’s presence here: Cardinal Undine, Cardinal Salamani, and Vice-Pontiff Lorimer. It was the key to his entire plan, and the only way he could lure Clear Sky into a false sense of security.
But will he take the bait? thought Oster. He’d crafted a foolproof plan, but was certain that Cha Ming wouldn’t follow it to the letter.
It was twenty minutes later that Vice-Pontiff Lorimer finally contacted him. “Hello, Oster? Or is this just another copy?” Lorimer sounded simultaneously peeved and pleased with himself.
“It’s difficult to tell, isn’t it, Vice-Pontiff?” said Oster. “Which is why I didn’t protest when you secretly moved me to a secure facility for monitoring.”
“How perceptive of you,” said Vice-Pontiff Lorimer. “I don’t deny that you’re currently an important prisoner.”
“And when can I expect to be released?” asked Oster.
“Once we are certain that you aren’t an imposter either,” said Vice-Pontiff Lorimer. “But I believe the odds are low, so I’ll share some information with you: The incarnation of Daoist Clear Sky that entered the Tree of Good and Evil with us has been apprehended. Cardinal Undine is currently preparing the necessary rituals. Do you have any further recommendations?”
Oster took a bite of blood biscuit and chased it down with sweet hot tea. “For starters, I recommend keeping me prisoner. You should probably also inform Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker of the deception to reduce friction between your factions in the short term.” He saw a flurry of activity just outside his door. “I see that you’ve doubled the guard on my location. Very good. I would do the same if I were in your shoes.”
“Wait, are you scrying our activities in the Realm of Good and Evil?” Vice-Pontiff Lorimer asked. “Because that’s expressly forbidden. I’ll need to ask you to stop this instant.”
“Relax, Vice-Pontiff,” Oster said, taking another bite of blood biscuit. “Do you want my help catching this imposter or not?”
“We have his incarnation, and it’s only a matter of time before we find his copies,” said the vice pontiff. “We have enough mages and priests stationed here to destroy half of Mendin.”
“But perhaps you aren’t aware of the technicalities behind his incarnations,” said Oster. “For example, did you now that they’re connected to each other via some sort of invisible field? It’s a pocket realm that superimposes itself over our current reality. Cardinal Undine should be able to spot it.”
“… One second.” A few minutes of silence followed before the vice pontiff returned. “Good work, Oster. You were right. Undine spotted the back door and closed it immediately.”
“Excellent,” Oster said. “The second problem relates to the laws he cultivates. Or rather, the laws his bound demon companion cultivates. I think it is very likely that Clear Sky left an incarnation in the void. With Bagua Huxian’s protection, it will be very difficult to track it down.”
“Then what do you suggest?” asked Vice-Pontiff Lorimer.
“Don’t track it down,” said Oster. “Give up while you’re ahead. The best you can do is hunt the incarnations that infiltrated the Realm of Good and Evil. Expect double or even triple digits.”
“That many?” asked the vice-pontiff, surprised at the number “Did they sneak in aboard the ship?”
“I imagine that the infiltration has been going on for quite some time,” said Oster. “Entering the Root Prison was a gamble on his part, but not a huge one. He likely had a second motive for infiltrating the realm, which is why you should find these incarnations as soon as possible. Don’t wait for Cardinal Undine. Send men into position.”
“Which positions?” asked Vice-Pontiff Lorimer.
“I’ll let you know once I calculate them,” Oster said. “Give me thirty minutes. In the meantime, I suggest you start with screening your inquisitors again to make sure a fish doesn’t slip through the net. Have Undine start her scrying with them.”
“Fine. I’ll do ask you say,” said Vice-Pontiff Lorimer. “Many thank for the assistance, General Fireblight.”
“Not at all,” said Oster. The Vice-Pontiff ended their call, and Oster got to work. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the most devious one of all.” Various reflections of Oster appeared inside the enlarged mirror. “Your judgement is beyond reproach, mirror. Now please go ahead and calculate Clear Sky’s most likely positions.” The artifact got to work, starting with Oster’s original recommendations and expanding upon them using the most recent information.
I don’t know how you’re going to survive this, Clear Sky, but you seemed confident, Oster thought. So don’t blame me for not holding back.
There was an art to double-dealing, as it was too easy to get burnt. The key was letting both sides know you would be doing said double-dealing and letting them adjust their plans accordingly. This was the main reason why Oster wasn’t personally in charge of capturing Clear Sky. And ironically, it would also be the main reason Clear Sky would escape.
But that was fine. Oster didn’t need immortal ascension. His insiders at the Greenwind Pavilion had already begun evacuating the Inkwell Plane, and it was high time he did the same as well.
***
Solent VanDerveer was a new arrival in the Realm of Good and Evil. His batch had arrived two weeks ago, and he was already well on his way to adapting to the realm’s notoriously pedantic protocols.
His routine was monotonous but fulfilling. In the mornings, he rose precisely two hours after sunrise. After one hour of vigorous training, he would eat a plain meal before going on patrol. The patrol would last precisely twelve hours, after which he and the rest of his squad would retire until the next day, when the cycle would begin anew.
There were no announcements to indicate anything to the contrary, but Solent’s intuition told him that this day would be an eventful one. “You look nervous, rookie,” said Vorin, his supervisor. “Stop being so uptight. We don’t want you having a nervous breakdown six months on the job like the last guy.”
“There is no room for relaxation in the Realm of Good and Evil,” said Solent, shaking his head. “I’ll take a leave of absence if I need it. Until then, I’ll be giving my duties my full attention.”
Vorin rolled his eyes but did not continue the conversation. They’d just finished handover with the night crew and had a whole day of patrolling to get through. There would be trouble, one way another, as not every squad of inquisitors was as pedantic as his own.
Their first stop was the seminary, where elite priests, the future bishops and cardinals of Mendin, were learning scriptures and rituals not available to the general public. A sizeable group of priests were standing just outside the seminary, where they practiced preaching and conversion on those of opposing faiths.
“Deconstruct and analyze,” commanded Vorin.
“Sir!” said Solent. He guided energy to his eyes and triggered the bread and butter of his class: Golden Eyes of the Inquisitor.
What appeared to be a trio of fiercely debating priests became a web of floating events, skill fragments, and names. Solent inspected each of these pieces of information, including their connection to their goddesses, as well as the veracity of their skills.
Next came their essence. Rankers channeled mixed hybrid energies that were very distinctive from those used by Daoists, Demigods, and Demons, and the Inky Energy of Painted Daoists, which was expressly forbidden in this place.
They did the same to the rest of the priests, as well as the building itself. Signs of age became a detailed list that could be reviewed according to stone placement, stone age, or even repair date. “No anomalies detected,” said Solent.
“No anomalies detected,” confirmed Vorin. “Let’s proceed to the next checkpoint.”
The continued on their way, scanning anyone they encountered along the road – not because they were obligated to, but because that was what inquisitors did. They were a curious lot that loved to search for truth. Which was ironic, given how often their lot was involved in hiding it.
They continued in this way for two hours before the two suddenly stopped. A change in the web of fate informed them that something was amiss. Vorin exchanged a look with Solent before making a call to the command center. “Dispatch? Yes, this is Vorin. Is there a situation we should be aware of?”
“Continue as before, but prepare yourselves to accept new orders,” the dispatcher replied. “Sorry, I don’t know anymore than you do, and I’ve got fifty other calls to take.” He hung up brusquely, leaving Solent and Vorin no wiser than before.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vorin reassured Solent. “These things happen all the time. Just roll with it, and it’ll all blow over.”
“Could it be a drill?” asked Solent.
Vorin hesitated. “Probably not. If we’re lucky, a stupid priest accidentally summoned a troublesome Ancient One or a small Inkwell Clan raid.”
They continued on their route, but it soon became clear that things were much worse than they’d expected. Few rankers were moving about, which meant that their patrol area was under lockdown. But they had their orders, so they continued to inspect buildings even if the people couldn’t be inspected.
They were about to inspect the temple of Artemis when an explosion sent them flying. A large chunk of debris struck Solent in the chest, shattering his breastplate and breaking several ribs. “Hold still!” Vorin said. “This is going to hurt.” Solent’s vision blackened as he felt a stab of pain in his chest. It was only seconds later when a healing spell treated him that he was able to breathe again.
“What was that?” Solent asked Vorin. The latter chuckled and tossed him a small piece of gold. “Is… is this what I think it is?”
“You, sir, nearly got killed by Artemis’s finger,” said Vorin with a bemused tone. “It’s a finger. From Artemis’s statue in her temple.”
“Someone dared damage the likeness of a member of Jezeriah’s pantheon?” asked Solent.
“There’s crazy people everywhere you look,” said Vorin. “Now sit tight. I’m sure a group of inquisitors will show up shortly.”
They sought clarification from dispatch but received only silence as an answer. “Should we maybe look for survivors?” asked Solent. “Wait, someone’s coming!” He drew his sword, but Vorin motioned for him to sheathe it.
“Put away your blade boy,” said Vorin. “They’re not here for you.”
A group of roughly twelve gold rankers arrived. Each of them had reached middle gold rank, and their leader was an archbishop of no small repute. “Inquisitor Vorin,” said the archbishop in a nasal voice. “Inquisitor for sixty years. Decorated. Posted in the Realm of Good and Evil for three decades. A few minor infractions, but nothing major. And yet…”
The bishop held out a small stone on a golden chain. It jerked towards Vorin.” Well done, Clear Sky,” said the archbishop. “This is your best disguise yet.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Solent. A horrified expression appeared on his face as paint sloughed off his partner. “You… who are you? I didn’t know! I didn’t even realize he’d been replaced!”
“Relax,” said the archbishop to Solent. “Just clear the area and wait patiently for further inspection. As for you, Clear Sky, how couldyou? A statue it may be, but that statue served an important function.”
The man named Daoist Clear Sky shrugged. “I just don’t like Artemis. Nor do I like her people, for that matter?”
The archbishop maintained his smile. “Have you considered the offer Jezeriah’s extended to you since last time we met?”
The man called Clear Sky shook his head. “I think we’re beyond negotiations, Archbishop. Congratulations on finding this incarnation, but just so you know, it’s useless to me now.”
“Stop him!” shouted the archbishop. But it was too late. The man called Daoist Clear Sky exploded, taking the archbishop, a temple warrior, and an grand mage down with him.
***
Fifteen kilometers from the Tree of Good and Evil, in a six-story building reserved for administration purposes, Marcus Finley stood at the center of a nearly a hundred stacks of paper just as tall as he was. Anyone else would have been overwhelmed by the massive workload dumped on their shoulders, but Marcus was an experienced accountant. He was also a bishop, which was why many of his employers called him “The Miracle Worker.”
“These are all the documents,” said a pale and thin secretary. “The ones we could find, at least. Our priests expended several high-level rituals to locate and assemble them. Over a thousand trackers were dispatched to track down this mess.”
Marcus massaged his brow as a headache began to set in. “Many of these documents are covered in bloodstains. And mustard. And wine.”
“I’ve been assured that these were all obtained through peaceful means,” said the secretary. “Those are probably stains from butcher shops and slaughtered game.”
“The Goddess of the Hunt’s filing system is nothing short of legendary,” said Marcus. “Relax. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted this position.” To call it a mess would be an understatement. “Please excuse me and my staff as we review these documents.”
“Of course, Bishop,” said the secretary. “Please call if you need anything.” She retreated from the dusty room and closed its double doors. There was a sliding noise and a loud click as the guards outside the room activated a locking mechanism consisting of multiple synchronized deadbolts.
Marcus grimaced as he looked over his hastily assembled audit crew. “Change of plans,” he said. “We can’t audit this mess if we can’t find what we’re looking for. We’re going to have to completely revamp their filing system and sort out this mess first.” His staff groaned in unison.
“They just told me it was a big job,” said one of the senior auditors on his team, Andrea. “Would it have killed them sort out this mess before handing it to us? And what’s that pile of junk over there?”
“Storage treasures,” said Marcus. “Containing three times as much paperwork in various states of organization. At best, they’re grouped according to year or a large geographical area. It varies depending on where they obtained it from.”
“Could we perhaps make a recommendation to Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker to replace their administration department’s management team?” Andrea asked.
“If we did that, we’d be making the same mistake as everyone else who’s ever taken charge of this mess,” said Marcus. “Constant turnover is exactly why this happened in the first place. Which is why I’ll be recommending that they keep those people employed long enough to roll out a proper system, and then fire them.”
Marcus then got busy allocating document piles. Assigning years or geographical areas didn’t make sense until at least basic groups were established. Even with skills, it would take a few months to sort everything out and complete the audit. By then, he’d have earned his monicker, Marcus ‘the miracle worker’ many times over.”
Accounting was an exercise in persistence and patience in equal measure. The process couldn’t be rushed, no matter how impatient the tax authorities were. He and his staff worked for four hours before adjourning for lunch. They then completed two more four-hour spurts before breaking for the day.
“Everyone is to break without exception,” Marcus instructed to the listless accountants. “Otherwise, half of us will burn out before we’ve finished. Has anyone found out what’s for dinner yet?”
“I heard someone call it curry,” said Andrew, a portly novitiate. “The cooks bought a batch of spices from the Runebound Clan and finally managed to produce something edible.”
Marcus grunted. “So we’re lab rats. How am I not surprised?”
“Should I tell them to make us something else?” asked Andrew.
“And disrupt our work schedule?” said Marcus. “Over my dead body.”
They sat down before short, squat tables. There wasn’t much room in the filing room for much else. Everything here was simple here, as it wasn’t just filing cabinets they kept here, but the entrance to the treasury, where reserve funds and un-assigned artifacts were kept. I wonder how much lost wealth we’ll find this time?
Everyone got a bowl of rice, and something called ‘butter chicken’. There were also a few vegetable dishes with various levels of spice, ranging form ‘burn your tongue off’ to ‘you will spend a whole night on the toilet and cry blood if you eat this.”
Marcus was about to take a bite when an alarm bell rang out in his head. His skill, Detect Financial Disaster, kicked in. “Thief!” Marcus shouted on instant. “A thief has infiltrated the vault!” He waited all of five seconds before cursing. “It appears we’re in a zone of silence. Everyone, try to break free. If you see the thief, don’t fight him; you’ll just be giving up your life.”
Yet no sooner had he spoken did the building shake. The ceiling cracked, and large pieces of concrete fell upon the unorganized stacks of paper and the surprised junior accountants.
Fortunately, Marcus was not just an accountant, but a bishop as well. He muttered a short prayer to Jezeriah, and the goddess answered him by providing a shield that stopped the larger pieces of stone before they crushed his crew.
A golden wall appeared between him and the door to the vault. He wondered if the wall would be adequate when the door to the vault exploded,nearly breaking his shield and crushing the his helpless assistance.
A shadowy figure emerged from the dust of the explosion. He wore white robes and carried what appeared to be an oversized paintbrush. An emergency response team arrived moments later.
“Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker!” Marcus shouted. “Thank goodness you’re here!”
The vice-pontiff gave Marcus him a curt nod before turning to the intruder. “Daoist Clear Sky, I’m really getting tired of your antics. Isn’t it beneath you to rob temples?”
“I’m sure rank and file worshipers won’t notice the disappearance of gold-ranked artifacts and other similar treasures,” said the Daoist. “And yes, it is beneath me to rob such places, but I’m a man who bears a grudge. By the way, could you trouble one of these bishops or priests to request a descent? I’ve got a bone to pick with Artemis, and I wouldn’t say no to beating up one of her incarnations.
Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker was a cool and collected individual, so he did not give into the Daoist’s taunts. “Give the treasures back, Clear Sky,” he said.
“Make me,” replied the Daoist.
“Very well,” said Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker. “This time, I’ll destroy you for real.” He muttered a prayer to Jezeriah, and seconds later, an ancient clock projection appeared above the Daoist. “Let’s see you survive this!”
The Daoist began to wither at a visible rate. “You’ve outdone yourself, Clockmaker,” said the Daoist. “This spell isn’t just effective against this incarnation, but my main body as well!”
“There’s still time to surrender,” said Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker. “Accept Jezeriah into your heart and soul, and all will be forgiven.”
The Daoist sighed. “I hate it when you guys force me to do desperate things.” He picked up his brush and began to paint streaks of black ink. Portions of Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker’s projection vanished. Cracks appear in the sandless until finally, it could no longer withstand the strain of time and shattered.
“Let’s see how long you can keep using True Destruction,” the vice-pontiff said. “Eternal Grindwheel of Aeons, Descend!” An ancient, mottled grindstone etched with a sundial pattern appeared in the room. A chaotic time field appeared around the Daoist, cracking and breaking the building’s remaining walls from the strain.
Paper was reduced to dust. A few unfortunate individuals caught up into the storm withered away until they were nothing but bags of aged flesh. Marcus had never seen such a terrible spell. Fortunately, neither the Daoist nor the vice-pontiff were targeting him and his team.
The Daoist responded to the chaotic time field by painting a bagua symbol, freezing space in the area to counteract time. He then unfurled a scroll, directly summoning five massive demons joined together with a star-shaped formation.
“These pets of yours don’t frighten me,” said Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker.
“They don’t have to,” said the Daoist. “Buying me a few seconds is good enough.”
“Grind them to dust!” commanded the vice-pontiff. The Grindwheel bore down on the five-pointed shield. Cracks appeared on it, but they were immediately healed over thanks to the power of creation in the five elements.
Having confirmed the stability of his shield, the Daoist summoned a multicolored cloud. Starlight, gray mists, and will-devouring flames formed a secondary shield. He then took out a large black scroll depicting a creature with no body and no end in sight.
“I call upon the Great Devourer!” the Daoist intoned. The painting shook, and the creature peeled off the scroll. It merged with the stars and the flames and gray mists and tore a hole in the fabric of reality. Void space broke apart and dragged all forms of matter and energy and dragged them into the creature’s mouth.
“What in the blazes are you all doing?” the vice-pontiff snapped to his entourage. “If that thing isn’t put down right away, the entire realm could collapse!”
Two younger cardinals stepped forward. “Sovereign of Ice, Seraph of Darkness!” one spoke.
“Sovereign of Fire, Seraph of Light!” spoke the other.
The remaining bishops joined their hands in prayer and channelled divine light from all eighteen temples in the Realm of Good and Evil and poured it into the apparitions. Light and darkness combined to form an unstable but potent energy. The void shattered, and the realm shook.
“He’s trying to escape! Don’t let him!” shouted Vice-Pontiff Clockmaker. He coughed out a mouthful of blood and used it to write out a prayer. “Wisdom of the Goddess, Guidance of Light!”
The devouring creature twisted as it accepted the intangible attack. A tear appeared the painting. “Reinforce!” yelled the Daoist. The five demonic paintings exploded and poured their respective energies into The Great Devourer, stopping the prayer in its tracks.
Marcus and his crew were blasted backwards, as were most of the vice-pontiff’s entourage. And when the dust cleared, the Daoist and the creature were nowhere to be found.
“Thank Jezeriah they showed up on time,” said Marcus to his team. “I can’t imagine what might have happened if that creature had even a few more seconds to grow.”
“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” said a voice as the dust cleared. The bishop jumped as a black-robed cardinal appeared a short distance away.
“Cardinal,” Marcus said, bowing stiffly. They were of opposing factions, but in the Realm of Good and Evil, it was necessary to show appropriate respect to both goddesses. “What can this humble servant help you with?”
“Is it necessary to keep playing the same game, Clear Sky?” said the Cardinal.
“Games?” asked Marcus.
“Fine. Continue being obstinate.” The cardinal muttered a prayer to Jezeriah and took out a disc with a drop of blood at its center. A dark light washed over the accountant, stripping away several layers of paint to reveal his true self: one of Daoist Clear Sky’s many incarnations.
“You found me faster than I expected,” said Daoist Clear Sky “Fortunately, this incarnation has already finished what it set out to accomplish.”
Cardinal Undine’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you planning, Clear Sky?”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise,” said Daoist Clear Sky. The incarnation then scattered in the wind, leaving not a trace of the original miracle worker, Marcus Finley.
