"I found everything!" the guy announced, "I hope you weren't too bored?"
The alcohol has let go a bit, the cool air is doing its job, as is a small dose of alchemy. And yet, I'm really interested in where all this will lead. Paranoia has woken up again, noting oddities. The main one is the complete absence of guards on the tower, both on this one and the neighboring ones. Unfortunately, the protection doesn't allow me to see if they are watching what's happening from the central one. And to understand—is it my paranoia, or am I just multiplying entities in honor of Occam, may his razor never dull...
Meanwhile, the elf quickly approached. I was embraced, and after a short hesitation, I didn't interfere, especially since no one was letting their hands wander... more than necessary.
"Put it right here," he pointed the servant to a crate over his shoulder.
He obeyed, then quickly and without asking questions left the roof. Good thing he dragged me up here; my head has cleared. And a small spell helped. Watching the man leave, I replied to the elf:
"Not at all, the view from here is actually quite good. A bit chilly, but otherwise—everything is fine. Fresh air, the moon, and no one extra."
Veridiel nodded, then picked me up in his arms again and sat me on the crate, sitting down beside me himself, embracing and supporting me. To be honest, I have no idea what to do or how to react. I mean, at all. Maybe he had plenty of girlfriends who knew and could do everything since they were twenty, but I don't have that kind of experience. And this hesitation didn't go unnoticed. The elf said:
"So, the proud sorceress isn't afraid of battles, but is shy about being alone with a guy? Unexpected."
You've become quite bold without witnesses. I snorted, trying to move away, but not insistently enough. And overall, it's warmer and, in general, more pleasant to sit like this. So the attempt was not just a failure, but rather a pure formality, which we both understood. But that doesn't mean I'm satisfied. You either entertain me or beat it, I'm fine as I am. If push comes to shove, I'll levitate right off the wall; I know the "feather fall" spell.
"The proud sorceress has defeated undead and demons. And you, if you get too smart... I'll win. I don't think you're stronger than a succubus. Or a Nathrezim. I have a long, sharp, icy argument. For all occasions. Savvy?"
The elf smiled and spread his hands. He really is funny. And sitting like this... I actually like it. Maybe if he's always like this, we'll meet again, sometime later. I don't know, I won't say I want to, but there's no particular negativity either. At first, it was just curiosity. Now—it's also pleasant. In short, I'll think about it. Later.
Veridiel, meanwhile, poured some wine, then decided the lady needed to be fed. That's not the worst idea; my coordination is a bit shaky right now. So eating snacks from his hands was deemed an acceptable option. To be honest, I didn't even realize at what point we switched to "you." Maybe it's the lack of witnesses. Or something else, I don't know, and I don't really care. Power brings freedom. I am strong and free, and today I will do what I want.
It's also much easier to talk this way than with all those flowery phrases.
The elf asked:
"So you fought a real succubus? A warlock's demon? A beauty like that with wings and a whip? What did you call them, Sayaad?"
Hey, let's not go there. I'm not a fan of dominance! Probably. I just haven't thought about it. But I seem to amuse him. However, I don't mind at all as long as I'm being fed, given drinks, and generally looked after. I am a victor, and I have earned some honors. So today you are my servant! Just like that, he-he-he!
"Yes, a demoness like that. The Teacher and I met two of them. Finished them both. And Sayaad is their own name. A species, or something like that. Like Nathrezim. But whether Pit Lord is a species name or a title, I don't know," I mused, jumping slightly when he dabbed my lips with a napkin, "Oh! Thank you."
I was a bit surprised to find him so close. No, that's how it's supposed to be, but still... Why is it so hot? However, the elf opposite is clearly interested not in me, but in the battles; I can see his eyes lighting up.
"Will you tell me about it? How you defeated them all? I know little about battles, and if you don't mind, I'd like to hear the stories of a veteran. In detail."
Well, I told him. At first in general terms, but Veridiel seriously asked for more details. How we stood, how I struck. I couldn't show the first part—the wine had done its job, I couldn't stand straight, and it doesn't look right without a "contact partner"—but I described it in words. In the process, I was fed some more snacks and wine, a cloak was carefully draped over my shoulders, and overall, I am perfectly content with life.
I relaxed, which is why I was stunned by the suggestion:
"Such a battle, it's a pity I wasn't there. You know what? Let's look at it! You'll like it! Agree, Daina, you won't regret it! I know a way," he almost whispered.
Veridiel said this looking into my eyes, almost literally burning with delight. Such persistence made me nervous, so I carefully shook off the hands that had ended up on my shoulders. And yet, I was curious what he meant:
"Don't be in such a hurry. And anyway, what are you talking about? What do you mean 'look at it'?"
But the young elf only waved it off. He sat down more calmly beside me, pressing his shoulder against mine. The crate is quite narrow, after all, and there's also food on a tray on it. But I'm not going to sign up for something I don't understand. I am very, very concerned about the fact that I haven't seen a single guard on the towers. And this is despite the fact that an official event is taking place inside the castle, with a bunch of important city bigwigs and an embassy from another kingdom. Where is the guard?
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a sudden embrace and a whisper in my ear:
"Samira knows what she's doing, Daina. It's not the first time she's shown me battles from memories. We could experience them together, you and I. How do you like that idea? Right here, under the moon. Nothing like what you forbade, just lying down and watching, enjoying ourselves. I promise, you'll like it. And if not—well, I won't insist. We'll just go our separate ways."
Wait, I've completely stopped understanding. What does "showing memories" mean? I remember mind-reading magic, but this clearly doesn't look like simple reading. What is he suggesting?
"Hold on, Veridiel. Tell me, what do you actually want to do? I don't understand."
The guy moved back a bit and spoke quickly:
"I'm afraid you won't understand, Daina. I don't understand everything myself; this magic isn't available to me, unfortunately. Samira is a mercenary, she works for my family, she sailed with us and is now waiting below with the other guards. And she has the ability to send... dreams, let's say. Using memories. Do you understand? It's just amazing, don't you agree? And if I ask her, she'll show us your battle in a dream. We'll just lie next to each other, nothing more. And then we'll get up and you can decide for yourself if you liked it or not. If not, I promise not to ask again, okay? If you don't like it, we'll stop immediately, I promise."
Well, yeah? That's a very unexpected offer; I bet the Teacher is surprised too. Actually, if you think about it, such an ability is characteristic of the Void. Mind reading, all that. So a noble family of High Elves has a human mercenary who clearly possesses dark abilities, and Veridiel knows about it and uses such skills. What a revelation...
I want to know more! If I bring this information to Lady Jaina, she can give the delegation a dressing down, kick them out of Theramore, and we'll avoid a diplomatic scandal. And I'll learn new magic.
I am an honest sorceress. I'll see what kind of spell it is; maybe it can be used somehow. In short, it's decided: this isn't just a date, but reconnaissance. For the sake of Theramore, and just as part of the date, I am putting myself in danger for the sake of the city! Exactly! And I'm not at all grabbing the chance to satisfy my curiosity and learn something new and interesting!
"Let's try it. Call your Samira."
My cheek burned with heat, so I reflexively touched the spot with my fingers. As it turned out, it was... a kiss? On the cheek. That's... nice. Okay, let's see what kind of subordinate she is. So far, this reconnaissance mission promises to be very interesting. In general, tonight is full of the newest, very curious sensations. Who would have thought.
Yes, before this, I was a transmigrator, a mechanic, a sorceress. And now I'm also a girl on a date. This is a new experience, an interesting experience.
While I was realizing what I should even feel, Veridiel returned, literally dragging a human woman to the top of the tower by her hand. A mercenary, for sure. Tall, black hair down to about her stomach tied in a braid; in the torchlight, deep purple eyes are visible, though unlike the elf's, they don't glow. Just purple.
There are scars on her face, near her eye and on her cheek—small but noticeable, clearly treated in the field. She's dressed in black, though I can see you anyway. Leather jacket, pants, and combat boots, and a pair of daggers at her waist. Also, I'm almost certain I see throwing daggers in the pockets of her clothes. There are many small pockets, making the jacket resemble a tactical vest. Quite thin, shapely, larger than an elven woman, though quite skinny for the local humans. Her clothes fit tightly, clearly not hindering her movement. Not a warrior, an agile type. I'm lucky with this crowd...
We sized each other up, and a sneer appeared on the mercenary's face.
I snorted. I don't care what you think, as long as I get what I want. I'm better than you. You're just a mercenary, and I'm... well. I'm cooler, more beautiful, and generally better in every way. And I have a date, while you have a job. I bet you can't even drink. But I can. Veridiel didn't notice our exchange of looks.
"Here, Daina," the elf pointed to the girl, "this is Samira, the one I told you about."
The mercenary, smirking, bowed slightly. The smirk didn't leave her face, as if I were a non-entity compared to her. Moreover, seeing my hesitation, the smirk only grew wider. While she was doing this, Veridiel took the tray off the crate and spread a blanket there, smoothing it out.
"Samira Saluzzo, my lady," the newcomer's eyes express nothing at all except a slight sneer and superiority, "lie down, it will be easier to work that way. Right here."
I nodded, casting magical sight. After which the young tempter of honest mages picked me up in his arms again and placed me on the crate, helping me get comfortable. Fortunately, he had brought a thick blanket; it's comfortable to lie on. In passing, I noticed Samira adding something to the wine. Wait, we didn't agree to that!
"What did you add? I saw you," and I seasoned the comment with a frost spear hovering over my hand, next to which seven more formed, aimed at the woman, "don't think you can get away with it. I'll raise an alarm, and you'll be crushed in a minute. Or I'll do it myself."
The elf also looked, raising an eyebrow, clearly inviting the mercenary to explain herself. Though he himself is calm, clearly knowing what it's about. The mercenary finished mixing, and no longer hiding, poured the drink into glasses and brought them to us, explaining as she went:
"My abilities are a bit chaotic due to insufficient training. To tune them to the desired effect, this potion will do," she tapped the test tube, "and the wine will help speed up the action of the alchemy. Faster absorption, if you understand what I mean. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. It's safe, as I am a trained professional alchemist."
Just in case, I used all my analysis skills, but it really didn't seem to be poison. Veridiel laughed. The mercenary, however, looked at me with a newfound respect. Surprised I didn't just swallow unknown Alchemy? I might be drunk, but I'm not a fool. The Teacher would arrange "training" for such a suicidal idea by randomly adding laxatives to everything I eat; I know him. After lessons like that, stupid thoughts don't enter your head. The crow is sitting there on the banner. It nodded, which means it's allowed.
Seeing the hesitation, the elf said:
"Don't worry, Daina. Shall I drink first?" I nodded. "Excellent. It's not poison, just a light alchemical concoction. It relaxes you, makes it easier to immerse yourself in illusions. If there's trouble with the elders, just say I forced you. Or, if you want, come to us; I'll cover for you."
I, barely listening to the promises to "help, protect, and cover," looked at the crow sitting on the edge of the tower. The bird sat quietly and watched; clearly, the Teacher was providing overwatch. Well, that means I can risk it. If anything happens, they'll pull me out. Because that—that is a solid insurance policy I can trust.
"Fine, I don't mind. Let's drink your little potion."
I'll need to make off with the bottle and find out what interesting stuff is poured in there. The elf visibly relaxed and sat down beside me, looking into my eyes.
"Wonderful," he beamed, "let's begin then. Samira?"
The mercenary gave a short nod. Unlike the young elf, she was deathly serious and calm. I suspect I'm far from the first person to find themselves in this situation. But the employer is always right as long as he's paying. If anything goes south, I'll have to fight both of them. So, before lying down, I cast a Mana-shield. And elemental ones too; it wouldn't hurt. This earned another smirk from the guy and a serious look from Samira.
"Good. Drink the wine, then lie down so your heads are as close as possible. The effect will be quite fast, so don't dally. And think about..."
The elf downed his glass and almost cut off his subordinate, clearly burning with curiosity.
"Succubi! Think about how you killed those succubi. Now, drink."
While the elf downed his in one gulp, I didn't rush, taking a couple of sips first, and then, after making sure I didn't feel anything bad, finished it. The elf frowned slightly but didn't argue. Samira stood nearby, silently waiting for us to lie down. It was actually quite romantic. Night, the moon, we're on the summit of the tower lying opposite each other, heads almost touching, looking at the sky and holding hands. Romance!
The whole picture was spoiled by the smirking mercenary in leather with daggers at her belt, who could right now deliver a very strong and dangerous strike to the chest. I don't think she could stop me, even without gloves. I don't see magic on her daggers, which means her strength won't pierce the Mana-shield. But she has the chance to try. The Teacher, meanwhile, changed position to get a better view of what was happening.
The wine and Alchemy really did relax me, causing the night sky, the dark figure of the mercenary, and her purple eyes to blur together. Those eyes were so deep, like pits where something was stirring. Something living and hungry. I seeeeee you. And you see me.
After making sure we were lying correctly, the mercenary snapped her fingers right in front of her face. She smiled, though it looked more like the sadistic grin of someone about to do something very bad to you and deriving sincere pleasure from the thought. What the...
"Look into my eyes, lovers."
The girl's eyes turned black, the world blurred, merging into a single black-purple spot with rare light dots for eyes. If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss begins to gaze back.
***
"Hey, DaVi. Bring the barrel already, don't sleep! Are you okay over there?"
I flinched, looking around. Right, we're in the hospital in the Night Elf forests. Tall trees, firs with trunks two meters in diameter. A wooden building with high ceilings and wide doors that even a rider could pass through. Supply tents, dining tables where a variety of different sentients sat, kitchen counters and stoves with boiling pots, tended by busy Night Elf women. Beautiful, tall, and purple, toned warriors. A pair of Priests of Elune stood apart in white, talking about something. I was frozen halfway between the kitchen and the tents.
Looks like I really drifted off, got lost in thought. Stuck in the field kitchen as a cook's assistant. And right now, I'm holding up the work! Not good.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just got a bit confused. I'll bring it now."
And I moved as fast as possible toward the supply tent. I needed to hurry; we'd already wasted a lot of time.
"The barrel with the Ryashi flower pattern, remember!" the Night Elf cook shouted after me.
"Got it!" I remembered myself; she didn't need to remind me.
I pulled back the tent flap and... remembered what happened next. But I found myself unable to change the induced nightmare. So the pain, sickeningly real, predictably burned my neck. My hands reflexively jerked up, trying to tear away the whip, predictably and uselessly. Then I, as expected, came face to face with the succubus. And she didn't hesitate to repeat the phrase from the past:
"Submit..."
Here, memories overlapped with my own intentions, and I didn't deny myself the pleasure of whispering:
"You ruined my break, you dead chicken."
Just like then, the demoness's face showed surprise. But I noticed that last time it was a bit different. This time I corrected the phrase and felt more self-confident. She hesitated, as if she'd lost her place in the script. But she quickly regained her resolve and continued the play:
"Submit to your mistress, mortal, and I will give you everything you desire. Everything you could ever want... Just say 'yes'."
"Zeta-Omega-12... Twenty seconds. Until total target rest." I repeated monotonically as the familiar Void energy surged. Wait! Did I edit the valve?..
...cal... l... for... exc... scious...
Excel... distort... ima... oh... nnection...
...ished... torted... metri... grow... space...
Initi... pump... force... lines...
Um... no, I didn't edit it... And the gloves are directly connected to my soul... And there's a double of them present here too...
Connection restored. Emergency channel stable. System in crisis mode.
Epsilon-Lambda-7... Five seconds. Until total rupture.
With a sharp swing, I tried to drive my claws into the demoness's chest, knowing she would arch back and the strike would only leave scratches on her armored bra.
"Yes, now you will di—"
We acted almost simultaneously. The demoness again tried to reach me with a dagger glowing with green energy. But I already knew it would happen. Her nascent strike was intercepted in advance. She snarled, showing sharp teeth, which were suddenly met by my second hand. Long fangs scattered across the tent like a fan. The prescribed pause in the performance ensued. I didn't try to retreat, knowing the whip on my neck would hinder me.
Our eyes met—mine slightly interested. And the succubus, mockingly, grotesquely licking herself, not noticing her broken jaw. The same haughty, slightly surprised look, but now sharply contrasting with what her face had become.
Synergistic Void component detected.
Apparently, this is Samira's own magic. And by all appearances, it overlapped with my actions, which is why the shared dream session went off-script.
"But you're naked!" my lips suddenly uttered; it seemed we'd skipped a couple of scenes.
She recoiled, jerked, but didn't let go of the whip, which didn't matter anymore. And the knife was in my way, just like that time. Which meant I had to continue. Taking advantage of the new disposition and freedom of maneuver, I closed in and began to cynically beat her. That's how we ended last time; I saw no reason to change that part of the story. Speaking of which. In the end, another act of this schizoid play changed again, and I had to be distracted by dialogue.
"D... t... deep..." no longer particularly sultry, as I recall, but trying, the succubus barely wheezed.
Increase in synergistic Void component detected.
Suddenly her voice grew strong and changed:
"You like this. I see you like it. Hm, your thoughts are so entertaining."
I recoiled, meeting eyes now with Samira. The mercenary, whose purple eyes were flooded with darkness, aimed a dagger at my eye with a laugh. Unexpectedly, weakness began to wash over my body, and my foot tripped. Looking down, I saw it was entangled in a tentacle. Long and strong. It began to powerfully squeeze my leg. The burning quickly became unbearable pain, and bloodstains appeared under the coils of the tentacle.
"Oh," the mercenary said with mock sympathy, "that must hurt."
It's about to, you bitch! Numerous ice spears, formed from the outside of the tent, struck her, tearing her flesh, turning her into a pincushion. Suddenly everything was shrouded in darkness. The world fell apart.
***
Coughing, pain, a blurring image before my eyes. Phantom pain in my leg, stinging in my eyes, blood pounding in my temples, the roar of assault rifle bursts...
Wait! Assault rifle bursts? Memory returns in fits and starts, but my emotions and perception of the world are like a fog.
What kind of junk did they inject me with? It looks like while I was out, we were attacked, and Venidan is firing a rifle. And I'm out of it; I need to get back into the fight immediately, they'll laugh at me! I have enough mana; I just stood there like a fool!
"What the he... *cough*... *hack*... are you doing here?" I wheezed, reflexively snatching a healing potion from my belt, thankfully my hands were more or less obeying, "Give me a minute, I'll help! Ah, damn it!"
Once I come to, everyone is going to have a very bad time. Everyone who dared attack my friends. For now, I wait, let the potion work... Mana-shield. Oh right. The shields are up, so we're definitely in a fight. A crash?
Something exploded and crumbled in the background. Okay, this still looks like a battlefield.
"Hack, oh yes, yes! Yes! Yes! Oh yes! Hack. Samira, why did you stop?" a male voice rang out nearby, transitioning from extreme pleasure to sincere indignation, "it was going so well! Hack, oh, oh! Good. A-ah, auf. Sa... Samira?"
My vision rapidly improved just in time to see an assault rifle burst roar overhead. I don't remember Veni having an assault rifle. Someone demanded in a vaguely familiar voice:
"Stay right there, bitch! I'll fill you with... a fireball! Aich!"
A flash and a roar. It blinded and deafened me a bit, but I'd recovered enough to push myself up from the crates and even look around. Lying nearby was a blond young elf... Veridiel, I think. And unlike me, he was either feeling very shitty or very good. That's what you get for ignoring a basic first-aid kit. I always have one on my belt. A sphere of Void energy was rotating overhead. Okay, get rid of that before my opponent comes to, otherwise I'd have to eliminate a witness. I have enough normal strength for these two. By the way, who are "these two"?
And above us, sprawled on the boards of the tower, two people were fighting. Who are you and what did you lose in Theramore? I was certain again that we were in the city. What is even happening? Are we under siege again?
Another second, and I remembered the combatants! That woman in black, who now moved behind her enemy in clouds of dark mist, tried to plunge daggers into the back and neck, then retreated with a backflip from blades in wings and the sting of a long tail with a needle. Samira. She seems to be the subordinate of the pointy-eared one who is thrashing in pleasure and pain next to me on the crates. Ah, he's already hanging off the box and vomiting. Gross!
"Not romantic at all, you know that?"
Especially the partially destroyed tower. It looks like two battlements were taken out by a power hammer, turning the stone there into dust. And, most interestingly, zero reaction. People, there's a battle involving assault weapons going on over your heads! I think the realization sobered me up. Wow, quite the party. And anyway, stop ignoring me!
"Veridiel!" I barked, "what the demon?"
"Get lost," the guy groaned, "oh, ptooey, disgusting. Daina, sorry, now is a bit of a bad time. Samira!"
But she was busy. The armor on her chest was slashed, and I think there was blood, and four, no five standard potion bottles were lying on the floor. One of the mercenary's arms clearly wasn't working well, and blood was streaming down her leg from three long gashes. Taking cover behind the crate the guy and I were on, she downed another bottle in one gulp and hissed:
"You're so damn tough, bitch! Were you carved out of a log like in a fairy tale?"
That's when I got offended. I'm not Papa Carlo, you chicken!
"Out of beautiful enchanted metal! Samira, care to explain yourselves?"
She didn't care to, sending me to hell, but she wasn't given a rest; Syl lunged forward, claws-blades extended. The mercenary jerked aside, evading the three long blades—it seemed the wound had closed after the potion—and threw knives clearly coated in something in return. But they bounced off the mechanical joints, leaving at most scratches. I could have intervened, but I was curious to see how her opponent would handle the situation.
Seeing her rival try to open the distance, the non-dead girl raised her SMGs and fired a burst. Но the agile and unnaturally fast mercenary dove behind a stone battlement of the tower, from which bullets kicked up stone chips. In my opinion, even if she hadn't taken cover, the bullets would have missed by a wide margin anyway. An illusion or a distraction? Interesting.
Samira, meanwhile, mockingly threw out:
"So many weapons, and so useless. What exactly did your master teach you, huh?"
Syl was clearly offended by this.
"I have no masters!" the non-dead girl growled, throwing a fireball and spinning around, preparing to strike the opponent who had performed a "shadow step," "Huh?"
Except Samira hadn't moved to her, but to the side, so the strike missed. Moreover, the impulse was too strong and spun her in place. Yeah, we'll have to work on control; the force of the strikes literally pulls her to the side, making her lose a lot of time and miss blatantly. Though, judging by the opponent's wounds, she hits every now and then, and then the mercenary has to heal with potions. Which, sooner or later, will run out. In any case, another strike missed and made Silanira hesitate.
And her rival took advantage of this hesitation, throwing a throwing knife straight at the faceplate. With almost zero effect, as I had calculated such a possibility. You'd need to hit with something more powerful here. But still, almost. Even realizing it wouldn't hurt her, Syl reflexively blinked. The return burst went wide, allowing the mercenary to playfully evade the fire with a roll. In her place, I would have used a grenade launcher or a power hammer, because right now Syl is clearly not managing.
Actually, it makes sense; the tower is small, if you start firing grenades here, the shrapnel will hit everyone except me—I'm under a Mana-shield and she knows it.
The mercenary, moving through the shadows again and throwing a dagger from a new position, mockingly called out:
"That's why you, like a real lapdog, rushed to protect my boss's new girlfriend. He won't do anything to her, well, not much. Look, she's come to, even faster than the guy. Or are you jealous that you have nowhere to take it?"
Okay, she shouldn't have said that...
Silanira turned, looking at me, and because of that, she missed an attack. The Rogue closed in sharply again, pinned the tail with her foot, and raised a dagger aimed at her neck. That might actually damage the joint. The dagger stopped halfway from telekinesis. Mine. I had recovered enough to attack. And I was angry and drunk enough to throw them off the tower if they didn't stop. I remarked:
"I wouldn't advise it. I'll pay Lady Jaina for the tower repairs if I have to. Will you? And you just now didn't just insult my friend... Catch my drift?"
The mercenary only snorted, her whole appearance saying "didn't really want to anyway," but she didn't put the daggers away, even if she took a step back. Silanira froze, keeping her opponent in her sights.
"Call off your dog," the mercenary spat, "Tough, but stupid. Train her or something; it's totally unprofessional."
And she immediately rolled away from a swing of a wing covered in metallic feather-blades, almost falling from the tail that jerked after her. Another jab, the tail pierced her leg, and the mercenary fell to one knee, watching as her calf literally unraveled into fibers. Interestingly, she didn't scream, even though the pain must have been beyond extreme. The woman only trembled slightly, breathing heavily through clenched teeth, but she endured. Respectable.
Samira snatched a bottle from her belt and poured it onto the wound. The decay stopped, though the wound still looked horrific; skin and meat were literally sliding off the bone.
"Silanira, bark!" I ordered.
"What!?" the non-dead girl was outraged, breaking her movement and staring at me, "I love you, of course, but haven't you lost your mind?"
"Sorry, it's just your first fight. You might not have reacted to a normal 'stop'," I smirked, "at the same time, I'm showing this idiot how wrong she is."
My friend snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, while I continued:
"Samira, your client is dying. And if you don't shut up, you'll be dying together. I'll just tell Silanira to switch to grenades and to hell with the consequences."
The mercenary, as if nothing had happened, put away her knives in one motion, downed another potion, and walked over to the guy, pouring the contents of another bottle snatched from her belt down his throat. Up close, she looked even worse than from a distance. Shredded fabric on her chest and legs, dark veins bulging from an Alchemy overdose. But she stood straight, as if that's how it should be, providing first aid to her employer.
Silanira almost knocked me over with a lunge, literally scooping me up with hands that had taken on their normal appearance and starting to inspect me. Finding no visible damage, we both looked at the mercenary and the elf. The guy had already stood up, though he was swaying slightly; the healing effect hadn't fully kicked in yet. I noted the crow. But the Teacher in the flesh was nowhere to be seen. Curious, was it he who sent the girl here?
"What happened here?" the non-dead girl asked sternly, "Answer."
The mercenary ignored my friend, but Veridiel answered:
"Yeah, that turned out a bit too shitty; usually it's better," he tried to laugh but only wheezed, "Samira, Silanira. It seems we have similar names for our servants as well as our surnames, Daina. These really are the Stars. Ah, hack. That went well."
At my friend's questioning look, I silently mouthed: "pseudonym." She understood and pretended that was how it was supposed to be. And the mercenary, having finished providing first aid, replied:
"I already said I wasn't properly trained... And then..." she glanced at me, "it turned out there was someone who was trained even less!" She sighed, continuing to fuss over the elf. "Otherwise, I would have gently dissipated the spell without consequences for the client and his... friend," she paused, looking at Syl: "And before I could figure it out, someone interrupted us!"
Veridiel waved it off.
"It's fine, we just didn't warn Daina's elders, so she got jumpy. Your powers look creepy, Samira. Sentients don't understand them, that's all."
I, however, was interested in two questions. What was Silanira doing here, and what did I dream about?
The second was clear: it was obviously some nightmare version of the fight with the succubus. A nightmare, if only because the "contact pair" triggered. The synergistic effect between the distant but real one and the close but illusory one was also amusing. And as for the fact that everything went off-script—I won't even start. But. A curious spell. Something based on mind-reading and induced nightmares. Only not on one target, but on several nearby. It's actually interesting, even if the process feels like crap.
Anyway, the event was ruined. I have an urge to kick this guy... But the mercenary, while she didn't exactly win, managed to corner Silanira. And if I hadn't stopped the strike, she could have lost her head. Not that it would have stopped her—the core is in her belt, practically in her ass. But it would have been unpleasant.
We did some damage, of course. Essentially, the entire upper part of the tower will have to be repaired. Several blocks—replaced. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to check the structure; those boards hit by the power hammer are rattling quite a bit. And yet, no one has come running to check. I looked up—of course, spell strings. I don't know if Samira did that or one of ours. Maybe the Teacher decided I needed to blow off steam and shouldn't be disturbed.
In any case, the result was ambiguous. Well, since it's all over, I should find out what that was all about. I'm a weak girl who was terribly frightened by a wicked elven aristocrat. He caused a riot, set a witch on me. A very mean and scary elf. But seriously, I need to find out "who is to blame and what is to be done."
"And now, Veridiel, it's high time you explained yourself. You have to admit, a trashed tower is well beyond the bounds of normal."
The elf nodded, sitting down, not without the mercenary's support.
"If you want, I'll tell you. You are a true warrior, Daina, after all. You hold yourself so well; it's impressive."
Silanira looked at me but quickly calmed down, seeing my composure. Nice.
"Tell us," she demanded, now without mincing words.
The elf looked at her disapprovingly. On one hand, he was a guest; on the other, he was a nobleman and she was a servant. Even in Theramore, such a thing was a clear sign of disrespect. Unfortunately for him, I was on the side of my friend who, even though she has no idea how to fight, tried to protect me. I gave her back her life; she tried to save mine. No, Veridiel is funny, sure, but Syl is with me.
"Remember your pla—" I'm on my friend's side here, so the elf faltered significantly, his gaze brushing over me, "Fine, I'll tell you. The higher powers want us to suffer. And through suffering, to understand them. I just want to be closer to that. Battle is a wonderful source of suffering, a source of trials for the soul and body. Samira is proof that I am right. She is a conduit for trials; she allows me to know the higher through the trials of others. For the clever man learns from his own experience, but the wise man learns from others'."
Silanira snorted with a hollow, slightly mechanical voice.
"Ha! You're just..."
I stepped in then; no need to interrupt.
"Syl, let him speak. Don't be arrogant."
The non-dead girl, turning her head toward me about a hundred and fifty degrees—thankfully her body allows it—objected:
"But I'm... I'm right, this is nonsense! Suffering... It's... It's just pain... And nothing..."
Veridiel assessed my friend with a new look, then, having understood something, began to speak enthusiastically:
"Yes! I see! And you became stronger!" He laughed. "Where am I wrong, in your opinion?! Our allies didn't come to our aid. The Holy Light ignored us! And the elves were torn apart by the dead! And when we were agonizingly dying from the dark magic burning in our bodies! The trial by pain descended so that we, having passed it, having experienced the torment, could ascend!" Catching his breath, the guy stretched his smile even wider but quickly calmed down, as if struck by an epiphany. After a moment's thought, he explained: "Daina, you are strong, stronger than me, but you felt great pain!"—yes, that happened—"You are an Arcanist, like me. Но the light-dwellers, the Priests of Light felt it too! It burned them too, I saw it, Daina! None of us received help, none. Because we didn't accept..." he shook his head, "But you... Lady Daina, Lady Silanira! You accepted! Pain is part of knowledge. Torment is the beginning of liberation!"
So that's it. I'm starting to understand what happened next. The guy drew conclusions, invented a philosophy for himself, which he's sharing with us. I asked:
"I take it you got your answers? Did the pain help?"
The elf nodded, ignoring the mercenary. Samira had already let him go and was standing, leaning against a tower battlement, listening. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. But she was listening intently.
"I did, yes. A Priest said: The Holy Light sends us trials that we can overcome. These trials, if we overcome them, bring us closer to the Holy Light. And I thought: if I see, if I overcome many trials, perhaps I can understand. I want to be closer to the Truth, Daina; is that really too much to ask? To know the higher truths, to understand that all of this isn't just for nothing. That all of this is not indifference, but part of a design. I want happiness, Daina..."
How far gone he is, though... And since you don't want to step onto the battlefield yourself, you decided to peek at "trials" through others.
On the other hand, what if? Strength is no guarantee of knowledge; the Dragons would confirm that. I'm just a larva of a Heroic Spirit... Who knows, maybe he'll succeed? I'm not the one experimenting on myself. Let him try. Maybe he'll come to something worthwhile. Let him try. A separate problem is that I, damn it, sympathize with him. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. And near the Sunwell, given that he survived, it must have twisted him something fierce. I won't say I've melted. But I sympathize. Even if you are an aristo, I don't think you deserved that. Yeah. Syl is silent too, though life has dealt her a rough hand as well. Well, we live on.
"Thank you for the answer, Veridiel. I don't know how well this will work... but I will support you. Try. If we meet again one day, I..." I didn't want to finish; I wasn't sure myself what "I" would do. A shitty situation, makes you want to hug him and cry. Something I won't do, even if I pity him.
I still feel better than the guy and was able to stand up with Silanira's help. With difficulty—Syl is practically carrying me; I should have drunk less.
"I'm ready, Syl, let's go."
The mercenary and her employer were left behind. The robo-girl didn't ask questions, but she was practically oozing bewilderment. She clearly didn't understand why I agreed with the guy. But all questions could wait; we still had to deal with the destruction. And I don't want to deal with it while I'm not sober. We've stumbled into something weird yet again. Truly: it just never happens any other way for me. I got a guy with a cracked head, and the date ended in God knows what.
"Wait, Daina," the elf called after me, "how about a repeat? It didn't turn out the best way, I know, but Samira can do much better. You have excellent memories. We could watch them again. Together. What do you say, Daina?"
Exalted brat...
"I just want to become stronger. I..."
I've had enough of this nonsense...
"It's not right for such a perfect blade to be without a scabbard," the kid called out unexpectedly cheerfully, "The wine is on me, wonderful snacks, and whatever you say... If you come?"
Ha! He recovered quickly, returning to his old epithets. I respect that. Most likely not without the influence of the wine, but I couldn't answer any other way:
"I'll think about it."
Then we left. Having descended a couple of flights of the tower, supported by Silanira, I clarified:
"And what are you doing here? Did the Teacher tell you?"
The non-dead girl, for whom carrying me clearly took no effort, objected:
"No. Lady Jaina. Everyone is already dispersing; she wanted to talk to you. But I'll tell her you need to..."
I interrupted:
"I'm fine. The first-aid kit did its job; even the alcohol is already dissipating. I'm okay, really, Syl. I can handle one conversation. Lady Jaina wouldn't bother us for trifles. And I am a Surveyor, her Surveyor. Always ready, and all that."
My friend sighed.
"I never would have thought that the clever DaVi could go off the deep end. And that I'd have to carry you, drunk and exhausted."
I only laughed at that.
"I was curious, that's all. And what he would do, what he would offer. Then I got interested in the magic that mercenary uses. It's not a simple power; it has the same foundation as mine. Curiosity won. And then it turned into almost a date. And that's also very interesting, as it turns out."
A grating chuckle rang out. Syl smiled with a "combat" smirk, from ear to ear, full of sharp metallic triangular teeth. The soldier standing guard literally flinched at the gesture. Even I sobered up a bit more when someone grins like that right in your face. And never mind that it's Silanira; it's still a very impressive sight. Assessing the reaction, she reduced her mouth width to "non-combat."
"Now I recognize you. Will you tell me how it went with you two? I told you my stories, now..." the non-dead girl paused, looking at herself, "I don't think I'll be able to repeat it. But we can still discuss your guys, DaVi! It's your turn to share stories. You want to go on another date with him, don't you?" as she said this, her armor plates jerked up and down, as if hinting.
I thought about it and shrugged. In the end, I was driven by curiosity, not anything else. And telling about this experience, in every sense, isn't hard for me.
"A repeat? Not particularly. But I want to find out more about that mercenary's magic. So if it's under supervision and controlled, I think I'll agree. It's interesting. And anyway, I'll tell you if you want. But tomorrow; today was a long and hard day. I suspect Lady Jaina will make it even longer and harder."
Silanira clearly didn't quite agree, but she apparently decided to postpone the lectures, sympathize with the situation, and generally help her friend, so she picked me up and carried me properly to make it faster. We descended to the Central Tower. This is where the head sorceress's quarters are; there are already servants and guards here. Talking about personal topics isn't the best idea in such conditions. Moreover, I was set down, and from there we just walked together. Syl was backing me up, but nothing more.
She escorted me to the office at the top of the castle's Central Tower. There, near a desk full of papers and folios, the Teacher had settled on a small sofa, while the mistress of the office had taken her place in her chair. Silanira also entered and sat on a chair by the wall. As for me, I sank into a visitor's chair at the opposite end of the desk from the Lady of Theramore.
Thanks to the light of candles and the fireplace, the sorceress's office was filled with a very warm but dim light. She herself sat with her hands steepled and waited for us to get settled. An attempt to gauge the boss's mood was unsuccessful.
"Lady Jaina," I bowed in greeting.
The sorceress nodded, smiling slightly. And she was looking at me with such a knowing look. Hey, we didn't do anything like that, really? You weren't peeking through the window, were you? Theoretically she could have, though she would have had to leave the hall for that. So I think the Teacher told her something.
"How are you?" the sorceress asked with the most understanding look, "The Magister said it was your first time. Remembering my own experience... I overdid it then and suffered all morning under the dissatisfied grumbling of Teacher Antonidas. Are you ready to talk, or should I let you go until tomorrow?"
Now it became truly awkward. Teacher, at least you! I saw the crow; you saw everything! A! Adults!
"I'm fine," I shrugged, "what needs to be done, Lady Jaina?"
She was silent for almost a minute; the Teacher stubbornly pretended to be bored. Silanira was almost fidgeting in her chair. Which was strange; she shouldn't feel such discomfort. She has no nerves or spine; in theory, it makes no difference to her whether she's sitting in a chair or on a rock. And yet she was fidgeting; curious. Finally, Lady Jaina came to life, extracted something from the desk, and spoke:
"I have a task for you," the sorceress announced, having made up her mind, "A personal one. You need to go to Lordaeron. Look for survivors and find Arthas. If you can. Please."
The last part she squeezed out with a visible effort, as if restraining herself from starting to plead or demand—I wasn't sure. So much for love, heh. But seriously, Lordaeron? That won't be a walk in the park. After the Legion, after the Scourge, the survivors—if there are any left—will be extremely unfriendly toward outsiders.
"It's dangerous there. Undead, possibly demons hiding after Mount Hyjal. Are you sure this is a good idea, Lady Jaina?"
The Wizard nodded at that.
"I understand, which is why I'm not telling you to set out immediately. We have a plan. You will build a flying machine to facilitate the search. I, in turn, can open a portal to Southshore. The city from which the expedition departed. Perhaps if we can drive the Undead out of there, we can establish a small supply base in the city for your search. I will give you a letter… for him. If Arthas is alive, it will serve as your guarantee as an official ambassador of Theramore. If not—retreat. Your task is reconnaissance, nothing more."
At this point, the teacher thawed out. With a snap of his fingers, the Mage drew the attention of all of us.
"This will be your apprenticeship assignment. Lady Jaina and I will help you prepare; the city will cover the costs. But the details of the plan are for you to develop. And if everything satisfies me, I might... Might! Not inform your parents that you were drinking something other than juice."
I felt like laughing. We caused such a scene back there, including a shootout, and the teacher is only talking about wine? Seriously?
"Teacher, are you joking right now?"
The Mage shrugged.
"Not at all. As a Surveyor and a landlord, you have some freedom in choosing your entertainment. And if you took a liking to that particular elf, who are we to forbid it. But I suspect your parents won't be thrilled to learn you were drunk and therefore acting irrationally. So, think about it."
Yeah. Think about it. And try not to laugh in the process. No, really, what kind of logic is that? I mean, if that guy and I had slept together—well, I wasn't planning to, but suddenly, theoretically. In short, strange logic where drinking is forbidden, but other indecencies are permissible. I yawned.
"Go, get some rest," Jaina said with a tired sigh, "it's better to draw up a plan with a cold and sober head. And yes, Silanira," she rose, "take the documents. You'll read them tomorrow once she sleeps it off."
Syl bowed.
"Yes, Lady Jaina. I'll see to it. May we go through the window?"
The sorceress did not object.
Yeah. They really dumped a load on me. And they know I won't refuse. We stood up. It was clear the conversation was over. But my legs decided to argue with my decision again. The immortal took the folder from the table, extended her wings, and turned her back to me.
"Get on, I'll carry you. It'll be faster than waiting for you to crawl..."
Flying on antigrav and pulse engines was a magnificent conclusion to this long but very eventful day. And I definitely wasn't screaming while drunk, that's a lie.
***
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