Wake of the Ravager

***Tzen Chu, Imperial Prince***

After weeks of killing their way through Mujenan and the surroundings, Llortan had finally declare the country ‘clean’ and moved on. The next stop had been Uleis, which was sparsely populated, with only one or two rising stars to snuff out.

After that, they turned north, hiking all the way to Iletha. Tzen’s ornate palace shoes had long since been traded for sensible, pebbly guar leather boots and a thick overcoat.

They were welcomed with open arms when they arrived in Ilestar, and at Llortan’s urging, he had accepted a guest room at the castle.

Which was where they were currently preparing for their next murder.

“I’ve been doing this for longer than your little collection of bickering city-states has existed,” Llortan said as he wound the rags that disguised his identity around himself.

Llortan had pebbly, thick skin, digitigrade legs with thick toenails just shy of being hooves, and brilliant green eyes. His face swept back and upward into a strange, circular crest.

“Ravagers don’t just stay on the farm they’re born. Well, one did, but she’s the exception.” Llortan snorted in amusement at some distant joke.

“No, Ravagers gain power at an alarming rate. Which means they have to move to where the power is. Every government has several seats of power, and by inspecting them closely, you can flush out an infestation in a fraction of the time it would take to search through everyone individually. List the seats of power.”

“Ah. Government, Military, monetary, criminal, Bent.”

“Right. So we check each of the seats of power, and when we’re sure all of them are clean, then we’re done. It’s not as good as running the entire population through a scanner, but we’re on a budget.”

Llortan finished winding the rags over his body and stood.

“Today we’re going to the Bent seat of power.” Llortan said, then cocked his head. “You’re more familiar with this country than I am. What’s the Bent seat of power in Iletha?”

“That would be the Den of iniquity,” Tzen responded. “Where the next generation of mind-mages are created.”

Llortan scowled. “Ugh, mind mages. There are idiots out there that say a tool can’t be good or bad, but honestly, how many good uses are there for a guillotine? Sure you can use it to split melons for people’s amusement, but its true potential lies elsewhere.” The towering creature glanced out of their window and paused his ramble as he spotted something gleaming on the horizon.

Tzen followed his gaze and made out some kind of caravan train made of glimmering steel traversing the countryside, half of its cars seemingly laden with wood.

Tzen watched as Llortan tracked the train’s progress outside Ilestar. The tracks most likely weren’t allowed to be built within half a mile of the city itself, for fear of an enemy using them to transport troops straight into the city.

“Come here.” Llortan said, pointing to the ground beside him.

His heart stuttering in his chest, Tzen approached, trying not to flinch when the towering, inhuman figure covered in beggars rags grabbed him by the shoulder and drew him close. He aimed Tzen toward the metal construction moving along the track, pointing to make it absolutely clear before he spoke.

“What is that?”

“It looks like a series of steel wagons on a rail…moving themselves.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Llortan said, glancing at him.

“How about this?” The creature asked, waving a hand in front of them, splaying his fingers.

Tzen had to bite back a wave of nausea as the scene seemingly flew towards them, expanding a hundredfold in a matter of seconds. A pinprick on top of the train expanded into a young man with light brown hair riding it, kicking his heels as he watched goods flow off of, and onto his wagons.

Tzen recognized him instantly.

“Is that the young man you were thinking of?” LLortan asked.

Tzen nodded.

“Good. Now I know what he looks like.” Llortan pinched his fingers together then shook them out, and the view returned to the distance it had been before.

“Are you going to kill him?” Tzen asked.

“Obviously, but not right now. If that person is who I suspect he is, I want to be absolutely sure I get him. Hence the backup. And after, Vashniel will want his soul. If he’s lucky, Grethna will end up in a museum, reliving a highlight reel of his greatest failures for the masses for all eternity. Depends on what the reader manages to pry out of his soul. But that’s neither here nor there.”

“You know what I like about The System?” Llortan asked changing tracks as he, glanced at Tzen.

“No.”

“It keeps civilizations below a certain tech level there indefinitely.” He said, looking at the train.

“What use is inventing a steam engine to remove water from a flooded mine when a Water-Shaper could do it at a fraction of the cost? Why would anyone need a tractor when they can rip tree stumps out with their bare hands? Why invent chemical fertilizers when a spell will do?”

Llortan held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger a tiny bit apart.

“That first tiny advancement in technology that outperforms flesh and blood is nigh impossible with System-Empowered people running around. The idea of outperforming the body with non-living machines is ridiculous.”

He pointed out at the train again.

“And then you get this shit. People are going to look at that, and they’re going to get ideas. Do you know how long it took humans to go from steam engines to space exploration?”

Tzen didn’t know what a ‘steam engine’ was, the same for ‘space exploration’. If humans were doing it somewhere on Marconen, he’d never heard of it.

He said as much.

“Lookit this guy, thinks he’s on humanity’s first world,” Llortan said, ruffling Tzen’s hair.

That struck a little closer to home. All across the world were stories of how humanity came to be stranded on Marconen during a war between the gods, during which humans were cast out of their homes in the sky and seeded on Marconen.

Tzen thought it was just a myth, but after the things he’d seen and heard this creature named after the god of Vengeance say and do…he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Just shy of three hundred years, is the answer, by the way. It took Harbingers fifteen thousand between the invention of the steam engine and space exploration because we’re so amazing. Isn’t that just the funniest thing?” We actually got most of our advanced tech from the Iralupe. Weak, small creatures with big brains, like you. They only took a hundred and fifty years, you know. It seems like there’s a direct correlation between a species’ weakness and their technological advancement. Pretty intuitive when you think about it. Once the System installed on everyone else, though…well, they’re still on their home planet, if that tells you anything.”

“Pardon, but do you memorize the length of time that every society takes to advance from ‘steam engines’ to ‘space exploration’?” Tzen asked.

Llortan stared at him for a moment.

“Yes. I call it the Llortan Resurgance Threat Scale.”

Llortan raised his hand, seemingly about to say something, when he froze.

“What?” He demanded, venom lacing his buzzing voice. He stared off into space as he began talking to the System. At this point Tzen wasn’t going to argue whether such a thing were possible.

“Well, why didn’t it?”

“Who’s in charge of this sector?”

“G’rzitKe X’vit Na Gya!” Llortan shouted into the air, reality warping around him as Bent seemed to roll off of him like steam.

Tzen instinctively warded it away from him with Bent Manipulation and Beli Ma, doing his best to avoid growing a third limb as raw Bent crashed over him like a wave, lensing reality like a lumpy piece of glass.

Llortan took a deep breath, and the Bent sucked back inside him, disappearing in a fraction of a second as the creature got a hold of himself.

“Well, Looks like we know who the traitor is, Mr. Chu. On the other hand, that means we can kiss any notion of backup goodbye.”

Tzen was tempted to correct him, tell him that it was ultimately disrespectful to address an imperial prince by his first name.

But…

Llortan didn’t appear to be in the mood to suffer corrections lightly.

“Connect me to the shop.” Llortan spoke into the air, commanding the System in ways Tzen had never heard of.

“I need a Failsafe, and a Soul Save.” Llortan said, arms crossed.

The creature tapped his oversized feet on the ground, the creature’s blunt nails tapping the wooden floor of their room in the castle.

“Hundred years down the drain – Yes, I’ll pay the cost.” Llortan said, irritated.

Tzen was forced to take a step back as the world seemed to compress around Llortan’s hand, a wave of Bent sweeping past his skin from all around, as if reality itself had shifted at the creature’s words.

Which, Tzen supposed, it had.

The Bent coalesced in Llortan’s hand, turning into a strange metal device that looked something like the handle of a crossbow, without the rest of the weapon. It was shiny black steel with intricate details wrought into the sides. It would be highly prized for the sharpness of its lines, showing no hint of forging or welding.

Llortan caught Tzen staring at the strange object.

“What did you think it was gonna be?” He asked, tucking the shiny black metal into a leather pouch at his waist. “A magic wand?”

“I’m beyond expectations at this point,” Tzen said, shaking his head.

“Good. Can I get some extra magazines? I’ve got a serious infestation to deal with, and help’s not coming. Yes, I’ll pay the damn cost.”

Once again, reality warped around Llortan’s hand, depositing a strange rectangular box into his hand, which he promptly shoved in his belt.

“May I ask,” Tzen said. “What that is?”

“Targeter,” Llortan said, picking up his tattered robe from the chair in the corner of the room and throwing it over his shoulders.

With the piece of fabric hiding his arms and legs, he could almost pass for human in a very large crowd.

“What?”

“The Failsafe marks a specific entity in spacetime for the System to do a deep scan. If that entity is a Ravager, the System turns them off.” Llortan swiped his fingers across his throat. “Off.”

“No more Ravager problem.”

“One more question?”

“Yeah?” Llortan asked, turning back to Tzen.

“Why are you so willing to share all this information with me? Aren’t you concerned it will get out?”

Tzen fully expected this creature to end his life when he was no longer useful to it. it was a tactic commonly used among the highest rank of nobility, who viewed people as little more than disposable game pieces.

Llortan snorted, a strange noise given his buzzing voice. “Five hundred years from now, your account of these events will be being busily eaten by scavenger beetles, given you savage’s predilection for storing sensitive information on organic materials... And I like the company. Helps me think to vocalize things, you know?”

As it turned out, Tzen Chu, Imperial Prince and heir to the throne of Boles, was not a disposable game piece, he was simply beneath the creature’s notice.

“Now come, you got us a date at the Den of Iniquity. Let’s not be late.”

Llortan limped along behind him, disguised as a leprous giant as Tzen lead the way to the Den of Iniquity, the affectionate name the sorcerers of iletha had for the ivory tower in which all the greatest Ilethan Sorcerers were trained.

That was what the public believed anyway. Tzen would hazard a guess that it was where all the greatest Ilethan sorcerers were mind-slaved before they could become experienced enough to become a threat. Only the truly exceptional were perceptive enough to fake mediocrity long enough to protect themselves.

As a non mind-mage, taking a step into the Den was like visiting all the whorehouses in all the docks across the country. He was bound to come away with some nagging infection.

But, it wasn’t as if Tzen had much of a choice. He could only keep his head on as straight as possible and keep himself attentive for any kind of mind-fuckery.

His naturally high Stability would help, but only to a point.

Tzen marched through the courtyard, eyes forward as he aimed for the base of the tower, ignoring the curious eyes of the student body who lounged around the grass in twos and threes, resting in the shade of fruit trees, caressing each other affectionately, affecting a life of indulgence to the outside observer.

He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Llortan cast his gaze about the sprawling people, but Tzen couldn’t see his expression.

If Tzen knew anything about Iletha, it was this: None of it was real.

They passed under the ivory arch of the tower, carved with detailed vines crawling up toward it’s zenith, disguising the enchantments buried in the portal.

Tzen felt a wave of peace and calm sweep over him, rendering him relaxed and unhurried as he passed inside.

Perhaps those tales of my father’s were a bit outlandish, Tzen thought as he inspected the lights dotting the mural-covered ceiling in wonder. This place is lovely.

There was a gentle push at his back, forcing Tzen back into motion. Oh, right. Our business. He ambled toward the receptionist, a young blonde woman in a white silk shirt sitting behind an ivory desk, blending in with the rest of the tower’s pale asthetic. She looked at them curiously, frowning a bit with her lips pursed just so. She’s cute. She’d make a fine concubine. I’ll come back here later and ask if she’s interested.

Y̴̢̫̫̥̫̯̝̖͋̊̋̂̍̂̃͒̆͘ơ̸̩̰̲̲͐̿̅̅̉̊̉̚̕͜ȕ̫͕͙̞͚̘͇̈͗̌̅͢͢r̨̨̧͎̦̹͍͖͔̦͐̈́̐̈́̽́́ Ŝ̴̘̳̗͌̑͋́͢͡͠ͅṭ̙̪̺̤̑͑́̉̾̌͢ǎ̡̛̛̟̠̗̙͂̇̽͌͗͢͞b̴̳̭̗͕̗͍̬̬͕̒̄́̍́̒͟i̹̼͇͔͖̻̟̠̬̓̂̽̈́͝ļ̷̮̜̼̮̠͑̔͗̂͋͛̀͟

Tzen blinked. The System was saying something but he couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t important anyway.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She asked, giving them a radiant smile.

“My friend and I seek an audience with the High Sorcerer.” Tzen said, thumbing over his shoulder. Tzen was having a hard time paying attention to anything but the young lady’s cleavage, but he still saw the woman’s stance shift, Her expression flickering unnaturally.

Extensive Training has increased your Attributes!

Your perception has reached level 25!

What was that? Tzen thought, glancing back up to her face, but not spotting anything different. Did I imagine it?

“Ah, you must be Prince Tzen Chu of Boles. It’s an honor to receive you.” She said with a gracious bow.

“And who is your friend?” she asked, cocking her head and gazing up at the bandage-wrapped giant.

“Good morning Trevor,” Llortan said, tapping the side of his head. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with a girl in a manner that didn’t involve mind-rape? Have you gotten bored with your toys yet? Make them start playing with each other like dolls? Have you made them fight yet? Act out dramas? Kill themselves? Maybe you’re too young to see where the path you’re on leads, but I suppose that’s irrelevant now.”

The girl at the front desk went pale before her lips drew back in a snarl. “Who do you think you are?”

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Llortan said, reaching into his leather case and pulling out the strange metal weapon.

He pointed it at the young woman and squeezed the handle.

For a fraction of a second, the lights dimmed around them, and it felt like some unknowably powerful entity had focused its entire attention on this particular room.

In a blink of an eye, the phantasm of a young man was torn from the girl’s body, surprise and disbelief written across his face.

Then the lights brightened, and the perky receptionist’s eyes rolled back in her head, collapsing like a puppet with her strings cut. Her forehead smashed into the table and she fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from her brow.

“Aaand we’re done here. I could feel the bastard watching me through her eyes. I didn’t want to use the Failsafe since it doesn’t give me the option of capturing the soul or seeing who it was, but we don’t really have that luxury anymore,” Llortan said, shoving the weapon back into its case and spinning on his heel, aiming to leave the tower.

“What – but – “ Tzen hesitated for a moment, mind reeling as he tried to keep up with the giant creature’s pace before jumping over the desk and kneeling down beside the wounded girl and checking her pulse.

He immediately noticed two things: One, her pulse was strong and steady, so she likely had enough Body to survive the wound, Two, she wasn’t nearly as attractive as he’d thought at first glance. Simply cute, with a button nose and freckles, rather than stunning, as he’d thought before. Younger than he’d thought, too.

Damn illusionists.

Still, she was wounded, and a woman. Tzen’s upbringing wouldn’t allow him to let her bleed. Tzen ripped a bit of his shirt and tied it around the girls’ head wound before he chased after Llortan, who was already halfway through the courtyard.

As he ran through the courtyard, he noticed the previously luxurious scene of youthful dalliance had been wiped from existence.

Girls wept openly into their palms, while some boys rocked back and forth, hugging themselves, fingernails dragging into the skin of their arms, leaving bloody furrows. Still others were in the process of harming themselves, bashing their heads against the jostling fruit trees, or searching for any sharp object they could find to cut themselves with.

Each and every one of them must have been under some kind of compulsion, broken the moment Llortan used his mysterious ‘failsafe’.

“How did you know his name!?” Tzen shouted after Llortan as he ran. “How did you know any of that?”

“System tells me things. Names are easy, even if someone is possessed. As for his behavior, all mind-controlling tyrants follow a similar path of absolute degredation, starting with rape and ending with blood orgies. He was near the beginning of his reign. Now come on, we’re on a tight schedule.” Llortan said as Tzen caught up with him. “We need to follow our noses to the underworld next before any Ravagers controlling it get wind of today’s events. I know that’s out of order, but I hate mind mages. Ravager mind mages even more. Ninety nine out of a hundred times they turn into absolute monsters.”

“How many mind controlling tyrants do you know!?” Tzen demanded.

“Too many.”

“Wait!” a voice called from behind them, causing Llortan and Tzen to turn.

A blonde woman in a scanty silk robe chased after them, coming to a halt at their feet, chest heaving with exertion. She was sumptuous and beautiful for a foreigner, but at this point, Tzen was taking these things with a grain of salt.

“The Den owes you a debt.” She said, offering them an ivory coin with the image of a tower stamped on it. “No one even knew Trevor was controlling us. Without you, the consequences would have been too terrible to contemplate.”

Llortan grabbed the coin and waved a hand over it. The coin crackled with energy for an instant before letting out a fine line of smoke. Then Llortan shoved it into his pocket, his brilliant green eyes peering down at the blonde-haired mind mage from above.

The woman paled and shied away from the creature’s intense scrutiny.

“Someone else will take his place, I’m sure. It’s the nature of a place like this. Judging by the speed of your recovery, you’re likely thinking it will be you, Charlotte.”

“Besides…don’t thank me yet,” Llortan said, pointing northwest, toward the ocean.

A second later, there was an eruption of fire from the distant docks, barely visible as a mushroom of smoke above the Den’s walls.

Alarm bells began to toll.

“You’ve got more important things to do right now than consolidate power.”

Macronomicon

ENJOY!!!!