Chapter 31: The Local Flavor (1/2)
Viv sat back down and helped herself to another cuppa. It was good tea. The confectionaries in the middle were made from, as far she could tell, white egg and nuts and some sugar. The sweets tasted really good with a fruity note. There could have been magic involved. She thought they might have been imported.
“When you are done, I would like to ask you about your nature as an outlander.”
Viv considered the question.
“Is it too late to deny everything?” she asked.
“Quite so,” the mage deadpanned. She added more water to the pot and picked some food herself.
“Rest assured that your secret is safe with me. My days of engaging in political games are long over, and this retreat I find myself in is, unfortunately, the best I will ever get. I am mostly curious. Your kind is extremely rare.”
“Is it? Someone mentioned the creator of the Hadal Strain Humans. Apparently they were an outlander as well.”
“Yes, one from a world with less magic than our own, or so I read. His memoirs have been outlawed in most of Param.”
“Which means that they are still widely read...”
“...by those with the influence and inclination, yes. So, do tell, how is your world? How did you come here?”
And now Viv was faced with the thing she had missed without realizing it. Someone to talk to.
About everything.
And yet…
“I would offer an oath of secrecy, but…” Varska said sadly while pointing at her face where the ugly scar ruined her skin.
“Yeah, what’s with that? Oh wait, I do not mean to pry.”
“Your Old Imperial is very strange. It feels more like a spoken language than an academic one.”
“It’s a skill.”
“Oh. Oh, of course! So that you could communicate locally. A gift from Nous?”
“Maradoc, actually.”
“The God of Travellers. I should have guessed. And no, explaining the scar to you does not annoy me, but I would prefer to keep the circumstances of its acquisition to myself, if you do not mind. This scar is a mark of the pariah in the court of Helock. It is so infamous that the other countries know of it. Only a handful of recipients are thus stamped every year, after all. The royal torturer inflicts it with a specifically enchanted branding iron. The mark is quite unremovable. Even ablating the affected tissue does not work, as it simply transfers to the resulting wound.”
“Wow. That sucks. Does it still hurt?”
Varska touched the edge gingerly, and winced.
“Not badly enough to ruin my day. It does remind me of its presence on occasion. I would complain but the truth is that it was… deserved. I was a court mage on the rise and something threatened my career. I was younger then, and drunk on my own importance. Reckless. I went too far and committed a grave sin, and here I am.”
Viv nodded, sensing that it was a difficult topic.
“As for me, I’m not sure how I came here. I come from a world without magic. A month ago…”
Viv started talking. And talking. Since Varska already knew who she was, there was really no reason to hide anything. In fact, she did not want to hide anything. She wanted to share with someone who might show her empathy, and she had a good feeling about the woman anyway. A tiny voice insisted that trusting someone she had not met was a stupid idea but she silenced it. She was not at her best right now.
And so, the flood gates opened.
Viv spoke of fear and pain and the wonders of magic, how Solfis guided her, meeting the Baranese knights. She spoke of the necromancers and Arthur the small monster who happened to be super cute, and no touching a scale off her tail. She mentioned how shocking it was to find teens at a brothel and the big ass tree and Marruk who was technically an alien or something? The verbal diarrhea did not stop for what felt like hours. She only paused to visit the lady’s room because the tea was apparently a diuretic.
Occasionally, Varska would refill the cup or refocus Viv with a word of comment. If the messy nature of the tale bothered her, she did not betray any signs of it. The story ended with the morning’s uncomfortable meeting with the mayor.
“Ah, I am partly to blame for this. Ganimatalo has enjoyed virtually full power over Kazar since I have withdrawn from politics. Perhaps it went to her head. Your wild path and bedraggled appearance when you arrived may have given her the wrong impression that you would be susceptible to intimidation. The wealth and power she wields would be impressive to a hedge caster from some forgotten mudhole. Not so with an outlander.”
“Still pissed me off.”
“I will have a talk with her in the evening, to remind her of our respective roles in this city. As a caster, you are under my purview. I will make sure to… impress that fact upon her.”
“So I’m not in trouble?”
“You never were. You have the backing of the church and you are a caster. So long as you do not break the law, she has little authority over you. If you do not go looking for trouble, you will be fine.”
“Those mercenaries from yesterday will not let the insult go.”
“Then let trouble come to you, and be prepared. Ganimatalo is too canny to risk everything on a harrien-brained scheme. You are relatively safe. You mentioned that Solfis had combat capabilities?”
“Yep.”
“Keep it secret and it will help you in a pinch.”