Chương 76: Book 2: Chapter 12 - Experiential Misalignment

I no longer recognize the woman who made planetfall on this world. She filed complete reports, felt only what was appropriate, understood her assignment, wanted nothing, and asked no questions. Merek has ruined her. He looked at me across a table and asked me what I wanted, I realized in that moment that I had become a person who wanted things. I do not know how to file a report on that, the thought of even trying feels like a betrayal. - S.

Solara, Personal Record, Date: Redacted MASON A logging waystation pressed hard against the Lantoch border, Jasper's Ford was half a day south by tarator to the northern edge of the Hellenic Forest... elf territory. Entering through the rough-cut gate of the makeshift wooden wall, I couldn't help but be reminded of an Iron-Rank nobody with a wooden club strapped to his stump walking up to Carriston in rags and a four-year growth of matted hair. Two years had passed since that day, but it felt like a hundred...

spending subjective lifetimes in the Athenaeum had a way of skewing perception. I was wearing the nondescript garb of a wandering mercenary adventurer, a patched canvas coat over scuffed leather, the heavily enchanted armor made to look much cheaper than it actually was. I passed through the outer ring of the city without being stopped, the adventurer pin on my chest a pass to the dungeon prep zone. I approached the tavern and let the stableboy take my tarator, flipping him a silver coin as I dismounted.

I stepped inside the low-ceilinged structure of barely-shorn timbers, the place humming with the vaguely aggressive, overlapping chatter of two dozen adventuring parties waiting for clearances. The dungeon had been open for a month, but an unusually high number of casualties had resulted in an escalation of Commission restrictions.

[Architect's Vision] showed the aetheric currents of the large interior space, adventurers from a hundred different classes and half dozen races sat at large rectangular tables, their sloppy mana control leaking a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Off to one side in the back of the tavern I found the familiar signature of my old friend, though it was much changed since last I read it. Two years ago, her mana channels had been choked by Aetheric Ossification, the energy sluggish and fragmented.

Her breakthrough following her Silver-Rank ascension in the Clockwork Tomb had changed more than just her reputation, her mana now read clean and stable, a brilliant silver vortex pumping through her core. My System admin readout revealed she'd pushed to Level 38, a rapid climb given her previous decades of stagnation. I let the skill go, releasing the overlay and feeling the sudden rush of anxiety as I anticipated a reunion that I'd thought about half-a-hundred times in the last two years.

Would she be happy to see me? Angry that I'd stayed so distant? Would she even recognize me now, my body as changed as my mana. I approached cautiously, bracing myself for the anger I expected. She looked much the same, her blonde hair loose now around her shoulders, that same leather armor that had become a calling card. Her white teeth flashed as she traced the rim of a wooden mug with a finger, laughing at something said by a figure out of view.

I wasn't sure I'd ever seen her laugh, the image almost disorienting. I adjusted my weight, adopting the slight limp that was now part of Caden Gray's official persona. I moved through the room slowly, the bravado that I'd come to rely upon for the last month in Eastwatch proving a struggle to conjure, my confidence wavering more with each step toward her table. As if sensing my presence, she looked up, green eyes turning toward me in a moment that felt like it progressed in slow motion.

Her mouth turned down when she saw me, a frown that felt like a vice grip in my chest. She took in the stubble, the stained jacket, my exposed prosthetic that clicked nervously at my side.

"A source told me something strange," she said when I was in ear shot, her voice loud to carry over the noise.

"They said that Caden Gray has taken up freelancing... but I knew it couldn't be true."

"You need to pay for better sources," I said, quieting the self-recrimination that played on a loop in the back of my mind.

"Temporary overlap of interests. Nothing more."

"Uh huh." She stood up and for a split second I caught myself calculating the distance between us, hand already moving to intercept a punch. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me down into an awkward hug.

"You look healthy at least," she said quietly as I resisted the urge to recoil away from her, the physical touch so unexpected, but I forced myself to relax. She smelled like expensive soap, the slightest hint of lilac. She pulled away.

"In desperate need of a bath and a shave, but it could be worse."

"I've been riding all day, your timeline was rather... aggressive."

"I'm a very busy woman, lots of demands on my time." She gestured to a dwarf who had been sitting at the table across from her and he got up, nodding at me as he left.

"That's Jory, harmless but a bit of a star fucker, wanted my autograph. Sit. You're buying." I sat.

"You look good, Liarra," I said without pretense, a simple statement of fact.

"You've grown a lot, the ossification has not returned?"

"Straight into, huh?" She chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

"It's a strange comfort to me to see that you haven't changed. Though, I suppose that's not exactly true, is it?"

"Sorry," I offered a bit sheepishly, the statement feeling a bit like I'd been scolded by a disappointed teacher.

"It's good to see you, thanks for coming, it couldn't have been easy to get away on such short notice."

"The Baudecamps collect oddities they like to display rather than use. They don't actually require me to do a whole lot truth be told, but the pay is excellent so I don't complain too much." She took a drink from her mug, glancing at me from behind the rim.

"I was pleased to get your message, I've been itching to stretch my legs again - I haven't been in a dungeon in almost a year."

"I know I owe you an explanation, I just-" She held up a hand, cutting off my awkward attempt at an apology.

"It's okay, Caden. I'll admit, I'd hoped to hear from you a lot sooner, but we both made choices," she said, letting the rest remain unspoken.

"I know you've had a lot on your plate."

"What did Vex tell you?"

"Not much, but enough to know you haven't been idle." She was different. I kept expecting to see the old edge return, for anger or irritation to slip out, but she was lighter than I remembered. Happy even. It made me feel somehow lonelier than I already was.

"When this is over, I'll tell you everything. Right now, I just, I can't." I shifted uncomfortably in the chair. A shadow fell across our table and my prosthetic hand twitched to the hilt of my dagger.

"Easy, Caden," Liarra said, hand moving under the table to stop any sudden outbursts.

"He's with me." A massive man stepped into my field of view carrying three wooden plates piled high with roasted meat and root vegetables, balancing a pair of ale tankards precariously on his forearms.

"I told you to wait for me to call you over," Liarra said, more amused than upset.

"Caden is the jumpy sort and I wouldn't want that pretty throat cut by anyone but me." The man was nearly the same height as me, six-foot-four and wide, heavy with muscle. His arms, sticking out from a sleeveless linen vest, bulged with veins. He had tribal tattoos on the sides of his head, brown hair shaven close to the scalp and long through the middle. A woven climbing rope had been wrapped around his body in a pattern of intricate knots.

A cliff-hunter, the infamous tribe that lived up in the clouds, rarely seen here on the ground. He set the plates down with a loud clatter, forcing me to move back to avoid being covered in gravy.

"I tried, my love, I did, but my arms were getting tired." Did he say love?

"They ran out of the venison, so I got you boar - extra charred, just how you like it. Would you like me to come back?" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. She sighed heavily, but there was no bite in it.

"No, no, sit down you oaf. Caden, this giant idiot is Dario - my husband." He looked to me, his broad, open face turned up in a grin. Husband. The word almost didn't compute. He wiped a massive hand on a rag and extended it out.

"The famous Caden Gray," he said with a thick island accent, smiling wide.

"I owe you a life debt for saving my wife, anything you need, you just say the word." I took his hand, his grip like a vice, shaking it in a trance.

"I told you not to lead with the life debt bullshit," Liarra said, shaking her head, but I could see she was actually delighted by his ridiculous sincerity.

"I hadn't even met you yet."

"A debt is a debt," he said with conviction. He sat down between us, sliding in close to the table.

"It's uh, nice to meet you Dario," I managed limply, maintaining the Caden southron drawl without thinking.

"Liarra hadn't told me she'd married."

"It's a long story," she cut in, Dario's mouth already open to tell it.

"There'll be time for all that later." He glanced at her but didn't object, taking a large bite of meat. How much, exactly, did this man know about me? Liarra watched me as if reading my thoughts, but didn't answer them. I picked at the plate, more to have something to do with my hands than from hunger. The boar was good, much too good for this waystation tavern. I caught Dario watching me, the anticipation of a man waiting for a verdict.

"He seasons all his food himself," Liarra said, seeing the confusion on my face.

"Carries a whole kit of spices, won't eat plain tavern food without it." I'd first met Liarra serving food to strangers in a caravan, the parallel clearly not lost on either of us.

"The body is the temple of the soul, I refuse to fill mine with gruel and boiled turnips." Dario tapped the side of his plate.

"You like the char? I know you boil meat in the south, but I prefer a bit of texture."

"It's excellent," I said, trying to sound like I meant it.

"I knew you had good taste. I'm never wrong about a man," he said warmly.

"Only occasionally wrong about a woman." He glanced at Liarra, some shared joke passing between them. The easy intimacy yanked at a pit in my stomach, but I found that I couldn't dislike the man. There was something disarming about his lack of artifice, an openness that couldn't be faked.

Most people I met these days wanted something from me, the consequence of having far more than was reasonable, but Dario seemed content to enjoy dinner and nothing more; a presence in the moment that made my constant analysis and planning feel almost psychotic by comparison.

"Dario was a hunter, hunted drakes on the sky-shelves," Liarra said between bites.

"Before he came down."

"Wyverns, mostly," he elaborated.

"The greater drakes are further up, past the wind-line. I've hunted in those skies once, but it is a regret I fear I will never live down." There was a sadness in him suddenly that was almost dizzying, his emotions so vivid I could actually feel them. A Charisma skill, or something else?

"Yes, my love," Liarra said, squeezing his hand.

"But that's over now." The cloud cleared as quickly as it had come, his smile returning and with it I could feel my own spirits lift.

"I do apologize," he said, rubbing a hand across his face.

"I have been cursed to affect the people around me, a final gift from my people - they do not take desertion lightly." Cursed. It seemed he meant it literally. My [Deep Structure] readout showed no skills active. Wild magic? I knew the cliff-hunters by reputation, I'd read about every culture on Caldera no matter how remote, and they were one of the remotest. They hunted the predators that nested high above the world on the floating islands created by the Cataclysm.

Cliff hunters were infamously insular and infamously savage, their entire lives devoted to the kill. They were said to use hybrid System magic, their skills, like mine, a combination of direct mana manipulation and System processing. It was difficult to square that image with the once again grinning man passing me a tankard of ale.

"You left?" I asked, curiosity moving me beyond the awkwardness of the situation.

"I did," he agreed, swallowing his cup in one long gulp.

"The hunt is the whole of life up there, kill or be killed. I lived for the kill, it consumed me completely, I'd go to bed dreaming of it, awake desperate for it."

"What changed?"

"I did, I suppose. Or perhaps I was forced to." He didn't elaborate, glancing down into his cup.

"I heal now, extend life instead of taking it. I like it better, I think." Liarra reached over and rested a gentle hand on his forearm, a surge of gratitude filling my chest. If I was going to feel every one of this man's emotions in our time together, I feared it would become exhausting. My neglect of my Charisma attribute once again proving that I'd underestimated its importance. The way they looked at each other, I didn't need supernatural empathy to know what that was.

"I don't work alone anymore," Liarra said finally, bringing the conversation back.

"If you trust me, trust him. He may not fight anymore, but he's very useful in a dungeon." The solitary huntress had found herself a mate - I wanted to be jealous but couldn't manage it, she deserved a bit of happiness.

"I'd welcome your help, Dario," I said, finding that I meant it.

"I can't promise there won't be dangers, our destination is in the second stratum and I understand this dungeon has proven more dangerous than expected."

"Liarra tells me you're the most ferocious mage she's ever met," he shook his head in quiet admiration.

"I may not hunt anymore, but I still thrill to see it done well - I'd be honored to join your party."

"An exaggeration, I'm sure," I deflected, my inability to accept naked praise had never improved.

"My wife is many things, some wonderful, some terrifying, but she never exaggerates." I met his eyes and found them harder to read than his emotions. He was clearly no fool, whatever his open manner would suggest.

"That settled," Liarra interjected smoothly, "why are we here, Caden? Your message was light on details."

"The dungeon's called the Sunken Choir," I said, finally turning toward the business we came here for.

"It sprung up around an Elven ruin, reason unknown - the Commission's working theory is some sort of mana breach in the underground archives that bordered the ruin. Whatever the case, there's an item inside that I have been tasked with retrieving. Don't ask me what it is or what it does, because I'm not actually sure. What I do know is that it's in the archive, reports say it's accessible from stratum two."

"Why would you agree to retrieve something without at least finding out what it is?" she asked, disbelieving that the Caden Gray she knew would do anything blindly.

"I have some guesses, but the truth is the item itself doesn't matter - this is part of a larger operation."

"You mean?" She left the rest of the question hanging.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"It is part of that."

"Ah," Dario said, rubbing at his chin.

"The thing you told me I couldn't ask about." So Liarra had kept my secrets, even from her husband.

"Regardless," I continued, steering us away from the rocks, "the dungeon was a C-Rank classification when it spawned and will soon be increased to a B after the casualty rate from the second stratum reached the ear of management in the capital - they don't want another embarrassment. I don't have time to pass the necessary advancement examinations, and I wouldn't want to even if I did, Caden Gray must remain dead to the world."

"I see the problem, but you know the Commission is not my biggest fan," she said, fingers tapping on the table absently.

"The Clockwork Tomb was a fiasco, my story couldn't be disproved but they never really bought it either. It didn't help that they felt I'd disgraced them by exposing that they'd allowed the Stone-Sworn vanguard to enter early."

"I don't need them to like you, I just need them to rubberstamp your party's admittance to the dungeon without too many questions being asked about who else is in it."

"Supposing I agree, what's the take? All due respect, but whatever this artifact is, it has no value for me." Apparently Vex had not told her my other identity as William Marcell, a secret I'd kept from her to avoid any questions being asked about what really happened to the Genesis Engine after we'd parted ways. Dario made a disapproving click of his tongue.

"This man saved your life, Lia, it is unbecoming to ask for payment." I expected her to be angry, but she simply shrugged.

"You can owe him a life debt, Rio, but I don't."

"I would never expect you to work for free, either of you, life debt or no life debt. I will pay whatever fee you think is fair. Half in advance, half after. There are some specific materials I need from inside - and the artifact - but anything else we loot in the dungeon is yours." She considered.

"I want the option for hazard pay should the task prove more difficult than expected. Dungeons are unpredictable, and this one apparently more unpredictable than most." I knew this negotiation was a performance - she hadn't dropped everything to travel across the continent just to say no - but if she wanted to set boundaries, to make sure I understood this was a business arrangement and not a favor, I could respect that.

"Absolutely," I agreed without hesitation.

"You get me in and you can name your price."

"When you just agree to everything it does take some of the fun out of it," she said, eyes twinkling mischief.

"That settled then, we go first thing in the morning, I hope you came prepared."

"Very prepared."

"I suppose I should have expected as much." She pushed her chair back from the table, standing.

"Get some rest and we'll find you in the morning." Dario rose from the table and I did the same, the formalities finished. Liarra moved to leave but Dario leaned in to whisper something in my ear.

"My wife does not speak of many people," he said, low enough that she couldn't hear us.

"She spoke often of you. Whatever is between you, it is not my business, and I will not make it my business, just know that whatever face she shows you, the last two years were full of worry - that is all I will say." He clapped a hand on my shoulder, gentle for a man who looked like he could crush bone with his bare hands. Then they were gone. I got a room in the tavern, one of the few left, and retreated there for the night.

It was barely a closet, dripping wet and smelling of mold, not so unlike the shoebox West Bronx apartment where I'd once contemplated a life of quiet desperation building robots for a tech startup. I'd come a long way in the years since, but somehow still remained that lonely kid trying to find a purpose that would light a fire in me.

I had thought my mother's secret legacy had provided that purpose, thought avenging Fenris would sustain it, but seeing Liarra find a happiness I'd never felt despite everything she'd suffered left me feeling less sure than ever. At least tomorrow I'd have the distraction of a dungeon to occupy my thoughts, tonight I would just have to do my best to forget.