The Chase Is On Part III (1/2)

The outer bailey went up in flames, to the sound of raucous cheering, and Chase conceded that it was possible she had lost control of the situation.

“This is bad,” Greta yelled over the roars of the mob.

“We've been through worse!” Chase yelled back, holding tight to her sister's hand as the rebellion swept into the castle.

But in her heart she knew this wasn't so. Every other time they'd been in a mix this bad, it had either been through her own machinations or as a reaction to someone else's plot. This time was different.

This time Daffodil Copperfield was in the mix.

It had only been two days since she'd joined his cell of the 'resistance', and she'd expected to have far more time to investigate him and ferret out his resources and backers. She was convinced he was either at the top of this little conspiracy, or working for someone who was.

But the first day had been a bust. She'd spent it delivering sealed envelopes across town... which worked out well, as Garon had contacted her with an urgent divination request for his bear friend. It had taken a little work to get the privacy and time to knock that out, but follow up divinations confirmed she'd gotten away with it.

Still, not three hours later, Copperfield sent down word that he needed her to rest and be at full strength for a protest. He'd taken her off the street, and the divinations she performed hinted that she was under scrutiny again. Which didn't match with the prior prayers and fortuna castings.

Once she'd seen that she'd immediately stopped anything even remotely suspicious, and gone and had a nice day on the town with Greta, doing light shopping and seeing the sights. There was nothing else to be done.

It was the give and take of undercover work, particularly when gods were involved. And because sapient people were in conflict, there was no way for gods NOT to be involved. They were highly powerful entities who, depending on who you talked to, were either all-seeing and all-powerful or at the very least capable of observing mortals in a way that couldn't be prevented and was rather rude, when one thought about it.

The counter to gods were other gods. If one gave too much information, then that gods' rival deity was permitted to give out an equivalent fact or secret. It was a good idea in theory, but in practice, well...

At the end of the day, every person who had five levels of the Cleric Job could talk directly to their god, and when you got a few dozen of them pressing for answers, even a god could get fed up with thinking up mysterious answers and hiding sacred truths in the form of obscure riddles and imagery.

This was the purpose of the God Squad, the twenty or so Clerics, Oracles, and Shamans that Garon and Graves had gathered to try and keep the future on track.

And they'd done pretty well... except where the conspiracy was concerned.

Which to Chase, meant that their foe had similar notions, or knew about the God Squad and was working around them.

Chase had a slight advantage with her fortuna cards. The art was unknown in this land, and it provided a non-divine way of seeing the future and reading people. But it paid for that with accuracy; the cards weren't always on target.

Case in point; the protest that had turned into a full-scale revolt.

Chase and Greta had just managed to get out of the crush of the crowd before it became a literal crush, when the wind whispered in her ear. Daffodil's voice. Again.

“Berrymore. Follow them inside. Keep the stronger guards off their back. Head to the dungeons.”

Chase bit back a curse. In there? Was he crazy?

“We have to go in there!” Greta bellowed in her ear. “Copperfield says!”

Damn it! If he'd messaged both of them, then she couldn't dodge this.

But for some reason, fortuna cards riffled in her mind's eye. For some reason, she saw the Midboss card slide from between her fingers, and fall to the table upside down, the armored figure on it scary and dangerous... but controlled by strings heading straight up to a shadowy hand. Reversed? Looked like it.

It was a vivid image, and she had no idea why she was thinking of it now. It wasn't an omen or a portent, but it meant something.

“Fine, we're going in!” Chase bellowed back. “Keep that healer's cape tight around you!”

The healer's cape was a strange tradition to Chase, but it made sense once she thought about it. This kingdom had known over a decade and a half of constant war. With the exception of the mad king and the daemons driving him, nobody really wanted to see excessive fatalities. There just weren't enough people to spare for that. And so both sides had compromised, and established rules for medics, people who pulled injured back to be healed once they were off the field.

You weren't supposed to kill people wearing healer's capes, and medics who wore them weren't supposed to fight. But things occasionally happened, so it wasn't a perfect protection. Still, it had been the only way that Chase was okay with her sister being out here in the middle of things.

The two halven pushed their way into the back of the crowd, keeping the taller folk between them and the burning parts of the front gate. Up ahead they could hear cries and yells of pain, sounds of metal on metal as enraged protestors ran into the castle guards.

What had they been protesting in the first place? Something about the Council being corrupt? Nobody had been quite certain, but everyone had been very angry. It had been Chase's job to shout down any opposition, literally Shout Down, using one of her higher level Grifter skills. She had to keep the crowd seething, until...

...until something happened. She wasn't clear as to what. That part got... muddled.

And as she struggled to move through the back of the stalled crowd, weaving between the forest of legs and butts that was the sad viewpoint of a halven in a mostly-human mob, the cards riffled in her mind again. This time it was the Game she visualized, a painted version of the bluish sphere that was Generica, the world she'd only seen from on high once when Hoon had literally lifted her out of her body to peer down at it. That fragile orb in a sea of green ones and zeroes...

It crossed the Midboss, and she didn't know why. Why was she remembering this? She wasn't. She knew all the readings she'd done over the last few days, and this wasn't one of them. A rattling noise intruded, as the image faded from her mind, a rattling like dice falling down stairs... and a figure in the shadows.

The game was right side up to her, but she wasn't reading for herself, was she? Which meant that the card was reversed... and if the mid boss was in the same reading, that meant it wasn't upside down at all, it was right side up...

“Focus!” Greta screamed, and Chase felt something push her forward and to the ground, heard screams and a groan of wood giving away as part of the flaming bailey hit the ground where she'd been standing.

“Thank you!” Chase said, as her sister helped her up. Looking around, she saw how near it had been, and saw a few crumpled forms nearby, caught by loose stones.

“I'll drag them back and do the medic thing,” Greta told her. “Wait for me.”

“Of course,” Chase lied.

She waited until Greta was well and away with the first casualty before she took off running. The crumbling wall had thinned out the crowd a bit, and she made up for lost time. Sorry Greta. This is too dangerous.

She knew Greta would be mad at her later, but this was a price she was willing to bear. Besides, if Copperfield wanted them both in the mix, then that was the best reason to keep one of them out of the fray.

Though it wasn't really a fray, she realized as she pushed through what turned out to be one of the boundaries of the crowd, and stumbled through a doorway into the great hall. The space opened up here, and without a clear goal, or really any particular driving force except for 'get them!' most of the rebels had dispersed. One was at the dusty big feasting table, scooping up silveware. Another was at the ornamental throne that had sat empty for three years, posing on it while an Artist friend drew instant portraits. A third one was throwing rocks at the chandeliers, knocking glowstones loose for their allies to scoop up below.

As rebellions went it was kind of lacklustre. Especially since this city was full of people who could easily mend minor vandalism.

This explains why the guards aren't stopping us, Chase thought. There were still sounds of sporadic fighting from down the hallways, but none of it sounded particularly deadly. This was a wise choice. Without a serious rallying point or a strong leader in the mix, this invasion would peter out and eventually the rebels would realize they weren't doing much and go home...

...and that's when Copperfield whispered in her ear again.

“Berrymore. I need you to throw all your support behind the next person who starts speaking up.”

No sooner had she parsed the words, when a stout human burst into the room. “What the hells are you doing! The Council's holed up in their chambers! Kill the tyrants, crown the King!”

The words echoed in Chase's head, resounding and she felt her heart swell with pride and anger...

And dissipate just as quickly, as she realized it was some sort of skill.

You have resisted Baron Wasteland's Incitation!

WILL+1

But looking around, and hearing the previously confused rebels start to roar in rage, she realized that she was one of the few. And when the stout man who was wearing clothes that seemed just a little TOO peasanty ran off down one of the hallways, the mob surged after him, howling for blood. The few that looked as confused as Chase shrugged and went with it, waving clubs, chair legs, and for the silverware snatcher, a heavy silver soup ladle.

Well he's good to go against any werewolves, Chase thought distractedly, and then realized she was alone in the room.

The cards riffled in the silence, and it took a second for her to realize that they were in her mind. An image floated up like a daydream, and she seized it, leaning against the table and breathing hard, trying to focus.

This was the third. This was the ally for the midboss.

Five clerics stood in a circle, abjuring a daemon. They held up their holy symbols, and their faces were stern and unsympathetic.

It was a rough card to pull. It meant loss, and salvaging what remains. It meant scorn and a distinct lack of help from others, and it meant that the Midboss had no true allies here. No friends in this game, no friends left.

So what else is new? Copperfield's voice whispered in her ear, and she almost mistook it for another Wind's Whisper. But no, she'd remembered this, hadn't she?

“I never did a reading for Daffodil Copperfield,” she muttered. She was certain of that.

“Dungeons,” someone whispered in her ear, and this time she jumped, squeaking, whirling around to see a sad looking human wearing a bowler hat and a gray suit. He had mutton chop mustaches, and a solemn pair of brown eyes behind thick, heavy lenses.

Those spectacles caught Chase's attention. They were rare in Cylvania. Perhaps one out of a few hundred people had them.

“Who are you?” she asked, and her voice sounded so very small in the now empty and wrecked room.

“Please call me Mister Placeholder. We've got business in the dungeons. Didn't he notify you? Do lead the way, we don't have much of a window here.”

There was something about his voice. Something distant, distracted, and almost bored.

In the distance, the mob roared and wood shattered, as the sound of crossbows snapping echoed through the halls.

But Placeholder's faint smile on his smooth-shaven lips never wavered an inch. He didn't even blink.

“Of course,” Chase said, staring at the most dangerous man she'd met this night. “Right this way.”

She hated having him at her back, but she had the very distinct feeling that if or when he wanted to end her, the exact positioning wouldn't matter much.

Halfway down the stairs to the first layer of dungeons, she heard a click-snap, and looked back with dread... just in time to catch him returning a pocket watch to his waistcoat.

“Is everything all right?” she whispered.

“Mmm? Quite. The Guild reinforcements should be retaking the courtyard about now.” The man's eyes narrowed. “By the way, weren't there to be two of you?”

“My sister got lost in the crowds,” Chase lied.

CHA+1

“Pity. We'll sort that out later,” he said.

That's what I'm afraid of, Chase thought. But she hurried down the stairs, collecting her thoughts. How to deal with this? Whatever was going on up top was looking more and more like a distraction, and she was getting the feeling that whatever this was, was the real task of the night. The true reason for all the mess and fury and chaos upstairs.

And the fact that she'd been folded into it boded ill for her chances at surviving. Chase was smart enough to know how conspiracies dealt with loose ends, particularly ones that were willing to sacrifice innocent farmboys for some undefined greater good.

The phantom sound of cards riffling into each other filled her mind again, and she stopped. “Give me a second, please. I'm... tired.”

CHA+1

Oh, oh that was bad. She was in danger, here. Two charisma gains from two lies? This was highly dangerous, and there were very big consequences if she got caught in an untruth.

Placeholder said something but she focused on the memories, or the visions, or whatever they were focused with her hands over her ears.

It was the choice. This card would be the Midboss's choice, and the card shown was a shady man in an alley, a man in a hooded cloak with all his face in shadow save for the eyes. He was flipping a coin up and down with one hand, and the other was drawing a dagger.

The ace of rogues. But facing toward her, which meant it was reversed.

A false start. Greed and gain, but for a hollow prize. A venture that would ultimately come to nothing. Something that wasn't worth the price?

“You made a bad bargain,” Chase whispered.

“Sorry?” Placeholder asked.

“No, it's... nothing,” Chase said. “Which level do you want to go to? They were keeping us in the comfy dungeon, but there's not much down there.”

“The labs,” was his answer. “I believe they should be the floor below your prior residence.”

Chase being Chase, she knew exactly where they were. She'd gone exploring one night, just to make sure that she could escape the castle if need be.

“That would be the big metal door with all the runes on it,” she ventured.

“That sounds about right,” Placeholder confirmed.

“The one with the big 'danger, stay out, active arcane traps' sign.”

“I am reasonably certain that is the door.”

“The one that I tossed a pebble against and watched the pebble literally disintegrate.”

“Ah! Definitely the one, then.”

“You ah, you don't want me to open it, do you?” Chase asked.

“Heavens no. You're unqualified for that. Leave that to me.”

“And then what?” Chase asked.

“And then it will be open,” Placeholder said. “There it is.”

There it was, indeed. A thick door set into a metal frame in the otherwise stone wall, shedding the equivalent of a holiday light spectacular from the glowing runes adorning it. Chase was no engineer, but it looked thick, sturdy, and impervious to anyone who wasn't a master craftsman. And that was before one took into account all the warning signs placed on the wall, and the glowing panoply of doom.

“Hm. Looks like a standard setup. Type twenty-nine H, with added structural braces. Do stand aside please, Miss Berrymore.”

She glanced back and did a double take at what she saw. Placeholder's spectacles had been silently replaced with flat black metal goggles, and he was pulling on a set of metal gloves with what looked to be twisting wires sliding out of seams and tasting the air, like snake tongues or questing worms.

Uneasy, she stepped aside, and as he bent to work she knew it was now or never.

Chase turned her head and whispered “Foresight.”

The world slowed, and turned ghostly. She watched, a step out of herself, as she whispered more words. She watched the ghost image of herself turn and look at Placeholder, who didn't react in any way she could see.

It's safe, Chase thought, and then time snapped back into synch and she was back in her own body. This was the Oracle's most basic and greatest power; the ability to peer slightly ahead in the flows of time, to predict the short-term with unerring accuracy.

And reassured, Chase mouthed the words she'd planned to say, watched her future self say. “Silent Activation Size Up. Silent Activation, Diagnose.”

Your Silent Activation skill is now level 55!

Your Silent Activation skill is now level 56!

Your Size Up skill is now level 21!

Sizing him up revealed few surprises, save for a few conditions she'd never seen before.

Placeholder

Charisma – Moderately worse

Perception – About equal

Willpower – Moderately better

Wisdom – Slightly worse

Influencing Conditions – Unswayable, Stiff Upper Lip, Complete the Mission

But the Diagnosis had some interesting overlap.

Placeholder