Chương 36: The Oracle

He never saw her asleep before. He didn't even think she could make an expression as she did then — utterly unguarded and deeply at peace. She was pressed close to him. Her head rested on the crook of his shoulder, the velvet strands of her midnight hair pooling across his chest. One of her arms was curled at his side, the other draped across his stomach. Her lips were slightly parted, her slow and warm breaths tickling his collarbone and chin.

The sheets smelled of her — an intimate, musky scent, sweet and feminine. She was still dressed, for which he was thankful — a conservative long-sleeved nightshirt and a pair of pants, judging by the texture pressed against his bare legs under the blanket. The bed was large enough for the both of them, yet she was pressed far, far too close.

A part of his mind rationalised that it would be natural for her to move unconsciously towards him through the night, given the cold, but the rest of his brain was too busy rebooting at this baffling sight. Since when were the two of them so close she would trust him enough to share a bed? For several seconds, he did nothing. Half of it was because he was too stunned to do otherwise. The other reason, however, was due to the primal, male part of his brain telling him not to move.

He was warm, comfortable, and had someone soft and beautiful pressed against him. When he looked upon her peaceful face, it was near impossible not to be entranced by her looks and uncharacteristic vulnerability. But the rational part of his mind soon kicked it and snapped him out of trance. Annoyed at both himself and Lenore, he began poking her cheeks.

"Wake up." The physician groaned, sounding entirely unlike herself. She buried her face further into his chest.

"Mm… Five more minutes…" Alcyr rolled his eyes and immediately sat up, throwing both her and the blanket aside as he did so. The woman was forcefully rolled off his body. Alcyr gave little care to her hiss as she was suddenly exposed to the cold. He got off the bed and made his way to a nearby table, using the basin of water and its cloth to clean his face.

"Bastard," Lenore complained, grabbing the blankets and wrapping them around herself like a cocoon.

"If you want to sleep unbothered, you should have picked another bed."

"What other bed?" she irritatedly shot back, her voice muffled beneath the blankets.

"There's only one in the damn room, and I wasn't going to sleep on the ground in this cold." Alcyr blinked. He looked around. She was right. That double-sized bed was the only one in the room. He hadn't noticed because of how dark it was last night.

"Damn it, Ural," he swore under his breath. He was going to punch the giant later, consequences be damned.

"You could have just woke me up," he said, slightly repentant.

"We could have arranged another room with the innkeeper."

"It was already late, you were sound asleep, and I was too tired to care. I returned from the minister's mansion only a few hours ago." The morning was already late, meaning she must have arrived at his room at daybreak. That made Alcyr a little more sympathetic to her. The flight in the blizzard had sapped all their strength. Even Lenore would not be immune to the fatigue, and yet she had been forced herself to stay awake all night.

"I'll leave you to your sleep, then," he said.

"Has the diviner agreed to meet with me? I can head to the minister's mansion by myself." Lenore sighed, then sat up from the bed.

"She has, but you're not going alone. There were unexpected complications; I'll need to be there with you to ensure that a diplomatic incident does not arise from your inept social awareness." Alcyr raised an eyebrow but did not comment further. Without further discussion or warning, Lenore got off the bed and began undressing. He turned away out of courtesy and set about his own preparations — cleaning his face and wearing his clothes, boots, and armour.

There was no awkwardness or hesitation to either of their movements. The room gave them enough space to move without crossing paths, and neither was prudish enough to find embarrassment in their situation. If anything, Alcyr found it strangely domestic, as if they were both simply comrades or bunkmates readying themselves for the day. Once done, they both headed down the stairs for breakfast. Vormas was absent, but Ural was still there, surrounded by a crowd and telling outlandish stories as always.

Alcyr would not have cared — except the stories the giant was telling seemed to be about him.

"A friend? Nay, I'm more than just the Butcher's best friend! I am his promoter, his most earnest advocate! He is a man of action, not words. It hence falls to me to spread his tale so that hope might bloom in places where nothing good nor godly shall ever grow. Hear me today and share his heroic story; let the Butcher of the Red Rime be known throughout the Morwyn Kingdom, for he is—!"

"Right here and about to punch you in the face," Alcyr interrupted irritatedly.

"Ural, why the hells was there only one bed?" Silence fell across the room. Lenore, who was right behind him, grimaced as everyone on the tavern floor turned to face them on the stairs. They looked at her, then at Alcyr. The obvious conclusions were soon drawn. Before long, scandalised murmurs and looks of envy or amazement began to spread.

"Announce it to everyone; why don't you?" Lenore murmured behind him, her tone a touch irate as she covered her face.

"This is what I meant when I said you couldn't be trusted to be alone." Alcyr coughed, properly chastened. He wisely chose to remain quiet. It seems all those Persuasion skill levels still couldn't stop me from putting a foot in my mouth time and again. They received their morning meals from the innkeeper, now packed in wraps, given how late the day already was. Ural approached them — a wide grin as he opened his mouth to say something — but Lenore's glare had the giant backpedalling quickly.

"We can eat as we move," she said, already grabbing a cloak and heading for the door.

"Let's go."

"I still owe that man a punch."" Later. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible and return to sleep. Come, the minister's mansion is not far, but the snow might make travel difficult." The moment Lenore opened the tavern door, the brightness reflecting off the snow outside nearly made him flinch. He stepped out hesitantly, allowing his eyes to adjust. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The storm had passed as suddenly as it had come, leaving the town swallowed in a layer of white. Sunlight poured through a break in the clouds, reflecting off the drifts so brightly that they hurt his eyes. It was still freezing; Frost crunched beneath his boots as he descended the steps, each breath rising in a pale plume before his face. Far to the north, he still saw the remnants of the maelstrom — dark and vengeful like the wrath of sky gods.

"The storm has moved north," he said.

"Do you think it has hit the 4th Regulars' outpost?"

"The base will be fine. The mountains will protect it from the winds and snow." Lenore's lips thinned.

"However, the presence of the storm means we won't be able to return as early as we planned." That meant they were stuck till evening, most likely. They had previously hoped to return by noon. Assuming the storm abated by the late afternoon, it would be another five to six hours of flying back to the fortress, making them likely to reach back closer to midnight. A half-day delay wasn't ideal, but it was hardly the end of the world.

Alcyr placed the matter out of his mind, trudging along behind Lenore as she made her way through the town. Lafmere was as busy as he remembered it. Despite a blizzard recently passed, the streets still bustled with people out and about their day. A rough but prospering settlement built around a fortified garrison and sturdy walls, the streets were alive with merchants, blacksmiths, and adventurers, while its alleyways housed more unsavoury characters plying their illicit trade.

A fair number of the population were not locals. Most would have been born further south, drawn north by opportunity. There was a wealth of rare ores, herbs, and valuable monster parts to be harvested from the northern wilds. The presence of an Irregular recruitment centre would also attract peasants and sellswords from distant villages, lured by the promise of skill levels and the chance to make a name for themselves. Alcyr and Lenore moved deeper into the town, eating as they went.

Most people went out of their way to avoid them as they walked down the snow-laden streets. While the cloak obscured their features, their strength was obvious in their movements — the tell-tale clink of heavy steel, the soft rustle of mail, and the unmistakable outline of a sword scabbard beneath the folds. As Alcyr finished his wrapped breakfast in hand, he asked, "You mentioned unexpected complications. Has anything happened to the local diviner?" Lenore stared straight ahead.

"The diviner is temporarily indisposed and has returned to the capital." Alcyr nearly stumbled. He took a second to compose himself before asking, "So, there's no chance of me having my System analysed at all? Then we are still heading to the mansion?"

"There's someone else. A guest of the minister." Lenore hesitated.

"How much do you know about oracles?" He raised an eyebrow. When Lenore refused to elaborate, he answered.

"In brief: they are just more powerful diviners. Higher in rank than the sanctioned seer within the Royal Oracular Order, and just a step below the leaders of their organisation, the prophets. Their bloodlines hold strong ties to the Fourth Saint, the Saint of Tenebrosity."

"Then you have enough sense to know they are important. There are fewer than two dozen oracles within the kingdom, and the Royal Courts have deemed this town important enough to send one." That begged the obvious question.

"Why? Is it related to the campaign?"

"Perhaps. From what I've been told, recent divinations by the Royal Oracular Order have found unusual readings with the skein of fate in this region. An oracle has been sent here to investigate, along with her entourage. She is powerful and dangerous, both in her own right and through the influence she commands. For both our sakes, do not antagonise her."

"I understand." An oracle was someone whose authority and importance were on par with the patriarch of a noble house or even a member of the Royal family. Their powers of precognition were legendary and were vital to the stability of the kingdom. In short, they were not people one could simply call upon for divination — or for even a mere conversation — without extensive prior scrutiny. Why would they have accepted Lenore's request to see an unnamed peasant Regular?

"I'm surprised you even went ahead with arranging this meeting," he said.

"A divination for a lowborn soldier seems beneath her, even with a House's commendation."

"I didn't expect the oracle to accept, truth be told," she admitted.

"Perhaps she was in a generous mood. Or perhaps you are simply lucky." Somehow, he doubted that was the case. A disruption in the skeins of fate… Could it have been because of me?

The minister's mansion stood apart from the streets of the frontier town, enclosed behind a waist-high stone wall and a wrought-iron gate. Though modest by the standards of the capital, it commanded a sizeable presence in Lafmere, with its dark timber beams and the steeply pitched roof built to withstand the northern snows. A few trimmed shrubs and snow-laden evergreens lined the path to the entrance, the vegetation contrasting sharply with the crowded streets beyond.

Inside, he was greeted by a broad foyer and several burning braziers. Polished wooden floor, heavy carpets, the scent of cedar and smoke — it was opulent, yes, but in Alcyr's eyes, it was made with a disgruntled intent to display opulence, rather than indulge in it.

"Judging by the decor, I assume the minister is a practical man?"

"Astute eye." Lenore nodded.

"He is a proficient administrator. The 4th Regulars owe much to him and his continued efforts to support the campaign."

"Yet he has an oracle here in his home — a person whose authority supersedes his. I can't imagine he is too pleased by that."

"Watch your tongue. Some things should not be said aloud, especially as guests," Lenore chided.

"But yes. He is not happy." A pair of guards escorted them to an empty room and instructed them to wait. Lenore gave him a quick rundown while they were alone, insisting that he be on his best behaviour. Alcyr agreed, but he made sure to keep his weapons within easy reach beneath his cloak. Servants brought them tea and snacks, which Alcyr gladly indulged in. Lenore drank to warm herself up and fight off her fatigue, occasionally glancing his way with a slight smile.

"Most times you act too old for your age, but then moments like these remind me you are barely older than a child."

"Sweets are hardly reserved only for children."

"No. But the way you eat them is adorable. You distance yourself from drinks, games, and the company of others. To find out that your vice lies in cakes and candy is… oddly endearing. Innocent."

"Shall we speak of your vices, then? What pleasures do you indulge in?"

"Perhaps you may find out one day, if you keep behaving." Her answer made Alcyr pause in his eating. He looked at her. Though her eyes were tired and cold, the offer felt sincere. Before he could respond, the doors to the room opened. A trio of well-dressed and well-armed individuals walked in. All wore midnight cloaks and hoods that hid their features. Upon their shoulders was the insignia of a grey spider resting upon a skull. The sign of the Fourth Saint.

They were clearly the oracle and her entourage — or at least a part of it. Alcyr assumed the slight presence in the middle was the oracle. To her left was a slender figure, moving so swiftly and silently it was as if she glided across the floor. In contrast, the giant to the right was clearly clad in heavy armour, each step accompanied by the clink of steel as the warhammer on his back swayed slightly. Alcyr and Lenore stood, bowing slightly.

"Noble oracle," Lenore started.

"We are honoured you have accepted our request." The trio said nothing, ignoring them entirely as they moved to the table. The oracle took her seat across from them, while your bodyguards remained standing beside her. The oracle raised her hands, removed the glove on her right, and then held it out. Without further prompt or fanfare, the slender guard stepped forth.

"The petitioner may touch the oracle's fingers, and only her fingers. Upon contact, a notification will inform you that you have been granted temporary elevated access to your System. As per our oath to Our Umbral Lady, no diviner may look upon a petitioner's System, on pain of death. The petitioner has been permitted an hour to study their System, and no more. Should at any point we see the petitioner or his allies act aggressively, we are authorised by the Royal Court to respond with lethal force.

Does the petitioner understand?" It was the standard spiel given by every diviner to their clients, though in this case, the last line of being authorised to execute lethal force was new. Alcyr nodded regardless.

"I understand."

"Then proceed." The slender guard stepped back.

"Your time begins now." Alcyr removed the gauntlet of his left hand. Stepping forth, he knelt before the oracle and gently grabbed her fingertips. The notification came almost immediately. [System Access] Greater authority verified. System Access Level: I → IV Additional System functions are now available. Alcyr smiled. Finally. At long last, he was about to find out exactly what his Mystery did.