Wake of the Ravager

Kurawe Oquv, the silver haired leader of the Order of the Seeking Hand, slipped the rich silk robe over his shoulders. He’d completed the ceremonial bathing, he’d fasted – well, mostly­. There was that sandwich. And the soup, and the beer. – the ceremony was ready to begin.

Can’t kill people on an empty stomach, anyway, He thought as he strode down the narrow hallway, his robes held off the ground by a junior member of their order.

Polluq’s son might be keeping robes pristine now, but in forty years, he might very well be running this place, and enjoying all the benefits thereof. He strode with confidence, the stride of a man who other men back away from.

Kurawe stopped in front of a heavy oak door, seemingly at odds with the flawless stone around them that seemed permanently wet, despite the heat of the desert sun, so many tens of feet above them that seemed to penetrate all the way down.

“You may go.”

Ukfeh nodded and crept away obsequiously, leaving Kurawe alone in the hall. Once the boy was gone, Kurawe opened the door and stepped inside, experiencing that familiar rush of potential energy wash over him as the Warp in the room flooded past him. It was so thick in the air, it was almost difficult to breath.

Kurawe had long since grown used to it.

Control Heat.

42/44 Bent remaining.

Delicate glass chandeliers flickered to life as Ukfeh applied his skill at glasswork to the tiny filaments, illuminating a circular chamber made of glossy black stone; The most sacred chamber of the Order of the Seeking Hand.

In the center of the room was a hole in the floor that lead to…somewhere else. Somewhere not of Marconen, perhaps somewhere not of this world. Perhaps even the Abyss, he thought privately.

Warp radiated out of the inky black pit like heat from an open oven.

Kneeling in front of the pit were three men, bound and gagged, slowly coming to as the light in the room pierced their eyelids.

Burega Tan, a young man who’d made a name for himself with his magnificent talent at glasswork, and his invention of a far tougher flexible glass, that put significant pressure on Polluq’s business with the Hash’Maje.

Kurawe didn’t particularly want to get rid of Burega, as that weakened Uleis as a whole, but the fool wasn’t interested in selling his knowledge to his betters. Burega bore the marks of a week’s torture, designed to drag the method for his invention out by force. He’d parted with it easily enough by Kurawe’s reckoning, once his family was involved.

Beside him knelt Kimbei Unsein, a dissident who’d sought the ear of the Hash’maje, speaking of renegotiating the trade agreement with the Cobalts, or gods forbid, granting them citizenship.

That alone was enough to Test him.

And the third was Jaq Turo, a herald who’d mispronounced Kurawe’s name.

Gotta pad the roster sometimes.

Kurawe took his place by the podium, resplendent in his vibrant silks, ignoring the muffled queries as the binded men tried to speak.

Moments later, three more doors opened around the room, and the remaining eleven members of the Seeking Hand strode into the chamber.

“Welcome, brothers,” Kurawe said with a smile, his gaze scanning the faces of eleven of the most powerful men in the city.

Uleis was the most powerful city in the country that had been named for it, and Uleis was the most powerful country in the world. Therefore, it took no stretch of the imagination to come to the understanding that these eleven men were the most powerful in the world, each one controlling a vast industry with roots that branched out, reaching deep into neighboring countries and beyond.

They entered, one by one, taking their places, as was tradition.

“Why do we have to do this boring crap?” Murak grumbled as he took his place. The skinny, red-robed man had sunken eyes and gaunt features that betrayed his callousness, even toward his own body. “Could’a just put a pick through their brain and dumped them in the sands. This is a waste of time.”

“Tradition. Same as every other time you ask.” Polluq said from the opposite side of the pit, standing in front of the three Hopefuls. Polluq was Kurawe’s right hand man and second in command.

“Baah,” Murak growled.

“Traditions are important,” Kurawe said gently as the rest of the members filed in, taking their places along the rim of the pit, basking in the Warp that emanated from the dark tunnel into the Marconen’s crust.

“It’s traditional that the order of the Seeking Hand cooperate, seek each other’s council, and close ranks to hedge out all comers. Would you be where you are without tradition?”

Kurawe’s pudgy fingers opened the book of prayers on the podium in front of him. He didn’t need to look at the words anymore, but it helped get him in the right mindset for the ritual.

“It’s not traditional, it’s expedient.” Murak growled. “Unlike this stupid ritual.”

Kurawe didn’t bother to respond, tracing his fingers over the words written down by their ancestor’s ancestors, from a time even before Uleis had grown around the Siphon like a ring of fungus.

“We seek an enlightened soul.” Kurawe intoned, and Murak ceased his grumbling, aware that further dissent would be viewed poorly.

“We seek more like us, outcasts in need of safe harbor. Wandering souls exiled from their home, from their people, in search of community, purpose, and power. We regret the harm we have caused these lowly creatures, but we will never stop searching, casting our net among the exceptional and the revolutionary, Testing them, and adding those found worthy to our cause. The cause of the King-in-Exile.”

He saw Murak stifle a yawn as he came to the end of his short speech. Amusingly enough, the speech used to be far, far longer, but Kurawe didn’t have that kind of time.

He nodded to Polluq.

“May you be found worthy.” Polluq said, shoving the young glassmaker into the pit with a foot.

The man wasn’t able to scream, but the two tied to him were able to give a muffled yelp before the steel chains stringing the three of them together drew taught and dragged the other two into the pit.

A second later, there was no evidence of their existence at all, simply a black hole in the ground.

“Not getting those chains back,” Murak said, scowling.

“Piss off, pennypincher,” The robed figure beside him said.

“It adds up.”

“Now!” Kurawe said, clapping his hands together. “Enough bickering. Let’s discuss business.”

“You mean how Murak screwed us over by bucking the trend and backing the wrong country?”

“I backed no one. You idiots just bought a whore without checking her teeth and got burned.”

“Fuck you and your mixed metaphors!” One of the old men on the other side of Murak shouted, pointing a trembling, gnarled hand at him. “You knew the Ilethan offensive would stall without your support and decided to get a leg over us!”

“What’s it to you!?”

Most powerful men in the world, and It’s like bickering children, Kurawe thought as he carefully closed the revised prayer-book.

He pulled an Amplifier out of his silk robe and held it to his mouth.

“Does anyone have any actual business to attend to? Polluq will be happy to escort anyone who can’t act their age to the surface.”

The members of the order clapped their hands over their ears as the sound reverberated through the small chamber growing more and more powerful with each bounce. Everyone except Asabei, who was practically deaf, anyway.

Kurawe took the Amplifier away from his mouth to give it a moment to calm down.

“What!?” Asabei shouted, putting a hand to his ear.

In the corner, one blue-robed member, one Ghuled Bassaan, raised his hand. Ghuled was a relatively new member, and he represented water and hydroponics for the city, replacing his predecessor after the man’s untimely death.

Too much orgy-ing with a heart condition, the poor bastard. At least he went out the way I think we all do.

“It’s not business, per se, I just wanted to share the news and seek council. The princess of Gadvera arrived as an ambassador not two hours ago. I received notice shortly before we assembled.”

The bickering men fell silent. The word was moving, and while they had their differences, they all had a nose for opportunity.

“I’ll host her,” Murak said. “I’m the only one of you without incriminating ties to Iletha.”

“Guar shit!” Murak’s detractor, one Orson Huul shouted. “You wouldn’t put your own money toward anything that wasn’t a sure bet. You plan on bending the princess’s ear, then forwarding the bill to the royal family! Well to the Abyss with that! I’ll host her!” he said, jabbing his thumb into his chest emphatically.

“Okay,” Murak said with a sly smile.

“Oh, damn it all!” Orson screamed.

“What!?” Asabei shouted, his rheumy eyes scanning the dim room. “Did Orson make a fool of himself again?”

“He had help!” Ghuled yelled helpfully into Asabei’s ear.

“You bastard!”

Kurawe tapped Polluq on the shoulder, gaining the brutish man’s attention. He leaned in close.

“One day, all this will be yours,” Kurawe said as a scuffle broke out between Ghuled and Orson.

“Pass.”

The two of them chuckled as they allowed chaos to reign for a while. It was good to get the blood pumping before the ceremonial orgy.

***Calvin***

Calvin was standing in a rich merchant’s place of business, soaked in the scent of silks and spices that flowed through the man’s hands like water. There were expensive lamps on the walls, luxurious rugs and the first wooden furniture he’d seen in the city, gilded to boot.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” The wizened said, running his fingertips over the lace. It was in a dizzying pattern that held the eye like firelight. Somehow different wherever one looked, but following some hidden logic that demanded the mind pay attention to it.

“It was my grandmother’s life’s work,” Calvin said, ducking his head in imagined pain at separating from the work of art. “It was the only thing I could save from my house during the raid.”

“A wise choice.” The trader said. “This is worth more than your grandmother’s house and everything in it.”

“Really?” Calvin said with a hopeful smile.

“Thirty stones.”

The cost of finished lace in Uleis was about eight and a half stone a yard, making it the third most expensive thing for its weight after Jush-powder and perfume. The best part was it didn’t require a long process, special ingredients or tricky chemical processing, just labor.

He had a bolt of thirty yards here, which put the retail price at two hundred and fifty-five stones, or a quarter of a Glimmer.

Now, Calvin knew he would never get the whole price for them, because a merchant would never, ever, buy something for it’s retail price…but thirty stones? That was a tiny fraction of the cloth’s actual value.

“I see.” Calvin said, picking up the lace and heading for the door.

“Fifty stones then.”

“Carver down the street offered eighty.” Calvin said, glancing over his shoulder at the man’s expression.”

“Gah, a hundred in coin and trade, then. And no more.”

Calvin hesitated a moment to see if the man would go any higher, but apparently forty percent was the limit of the man’s tolerance. It made since considering the small fortune he’d offered.

“Alright, fine.” Calvin said, setting the bolt back down on the counter.

“I’ve only got fifty stones,” The merchant said, pulling a large key out of a hidden pocket and ducking under the counter, coming back with a small lockbox full of gold and silver.

“This and a palm’s worth of Jush powder, or a one pound bag of pepper.”

“I’ve never tried Jush powder.” Calvin said, eyeing the drug. It was something he’d hear mentioned among the nobles in Gadvera, but no one ever really spoke to him directly about it. Calvin wasn’t exactly in the in group among the nobles.

The merchant chuckled.

“It’s quite a trip, but you should probably resell it, if you truly want every stone in your pocket.”

Calvin shrugged.

“The Jush powder.”

The man stroked his goatee habitually a couple times before nodding, coming back with a tiny bag of dark blue powder along with a hefty sack of gold.

“K’vothe bless your newfound wealth. Pleasure doing business with you” The merchant said.

Oh, it won’t be in the morning, Calvin thought, smiling as he left the glass mansion.

Everything in Uleis was made of glass. The road, the buildings. Spiralling Towers that made Gadveran’s stone ones look pathetic by comparison. There was every color of the rainbow, although the tops of the buildings were usually black.

When Calvin asked about it, they spewed something about cooling, and Elliot tried to tell him about passive cooling, but none of it really made sense without a good visualization of what they were talking about.

It didn’t make sense to heat something up to cool it down.

As Calvin was thinking about this, a fanciful glass carriage decorated with spiraling fluted glass rushed past him, before slowing to a halt ahead of him. calvin’s feet steered around it.

“Young man!” a fat old man said, leaning out the side of his carriage. “Wait!”

Calvin frowned, pausing to look at the man, a winkled old Ulesian wearing far too many gold rings and silk.

“How would you like a job?” he said, giving him a gap-toothed grin.

What the hell?

Did you forget? You’re super attractive right now via averaging. The old guy probably wants to suck your dick. Or vice versa. Hard to tell. Try and see if he’s got a tongue stud. That should clear things up.

Calvin glanced at his own dusky Uleisian skin and felt goosebumps raise up on his arms.

“My apologies,” Calvin said, performing a polite bow. “But I can’t accept your offer, as I have my own duties to attend to.”

Hopefully his accent didn’t give him away.

The fat man’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you from, young man?”

Crap.

“North side of the city, my parents were immigrants from Gadvera…”

“Really? I should speak to them about job opportunities for their son.”

“They’re dead!” Calvin said hastily. “You can’t talk to them, because they’re dead.”

Calvin, you fucking idiot! You just labelled yourself an easy mark!

Double crap.

He threw his bag of gold over his shoulder and started walking, but at a word, the carriage began rolling down the wide glass street, keeping pace with him.

“A young man such as yourself needs stability. I can offer that. A place to stay, and coin. How does one Stone a week sound to you?” the fat old man said.

I can’t take this back to our base of operations! Calvin thought, his ire growing.

“The finest silks, jaga fruit and all the wine you can drink.”

Alright, that’s it. Calvin turned toward the carriage, meeting the man’s hopeful eyes as he set his feet shoulder length apart and crossed his arms, glaring the idiot down.

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than fucking your mouth, ya old perv.”

You need to learn some tact.

The old perv’s jaw dropped.

“Do you know who I am!?” he demanded, face growing red.

“Can’t say that I do. Who do you think you are?”

“Leben, deliver the boy.”

At the man’s words, the carriage rocked, and Calvin saw a man emerge from the other side of it, a veritable wall of muscle.

Time to go.

Calvin bolted into an alley. The narrow space between the buildings ended in a wall, but that was no hassle. Calvin grunted, jumping from windowsill to windowsill until he reached the top of the shorter building, just in time for Leben to start his way up.

“Careful with the face!” the old man’s voice echoed from the street.

Calvin was crouched low, whistling a ditty in his head until Leben made it to the top of the building, his face emerging above the lip of the roof.

He seemed a little surprised to see the young waif waiting for him rather than running away.

Calvin delivered a vicious strike at the man’s face while both hands were occupied with climbing. The Leben fellow was faster than he looked, able to take a hand off the wall to block Calvin’s fist.

The blade jutting from Calvin’s knuckles, though, that skewered the man’s palm, although he was able to pull it out of the way on muscle memory before it did more than cut his cheek.

Calvin exploited the lapse in the man’s concentration to deliver a knee to his knee-high face.

Leben’s free hand slipped off the wall and he tumbled backward into the alleyway.

Calvin followed him down, landing knee-first on the man’s chest with a satisfying crunch, surely breaking a few ribs.

This time, the wide-eyed stooge didn’t block, and the knife sank deep into the man’s skull.

Knife Work has reached level 9! 45% correction.

“Leben? Do you have him?” the voice called from the street, and Calvin was tempted to go further…but no. He didn’t want to kill a rich old man on the street in front of dozens of witnesses. Now was the time for discretion.

Calvin pried open the man’s teeth and seized his tongue, callously yanking it out before he lopped it off with the razor-sharp knife.

Consume.

8/15 Bent remaining.

Native Uleisian learned.

Now I don’t have to worry about the accent, Calvin thought, climbing back up the wall with agile leaps.

****

“How did it go?” Nadia asked as Calvin arrived with his bags of gold and Jush powder. She was sitting in the back of a reassembled wagon, counting coins and luxury goods.

“fifty stones for the lace, fifty in Jush powder,” Calvin said.

“Jush pile is over there,” She said, making a mark on her tallying notebook and pointing at a relatively small pile in the corner of the wagon, about the size of a small child, next to the much larger piles of nem dust, spices, gold, and art.

“Had some trouble with a rich old man who thought my dick was for hire,” Calvin said, shivering the goosebumps out.

“You too?” A copy Calvin said, wearing the pretty face of a woman averaged from the women’s bathing house. They didn’t want to present the same person, to make things harder for him to track. “Gave me the heebie jeebies.”

He dropped another roll of silk off on top of the pile of busy Knick-Knacks while Nadia tallied up the value of the rest of the things he brought.

“True,” an older-looking copy said, dropping off his load of gold and goods. “Our beauty is a curse.”

“Take from the outgoing pile!” Nadia snapped as the copy bent to pick up some salable goods. He winced and tiptoed over to the outgoing pile that had already been written off of their total wealth.

“How are we doing?” Calvin asked as the copy skulked away.

“We’re only a quarter of the way done with the merchant’s district, and eleven percent done with the noble quarter. We’re finding it hard to penetrate.”

“Hah, penetrate.”

“We’ve only got one night before word gets out that these rolls of lace are valueless via saturation, so we’ve got to take the city for everything we can get. Which means, I need at least a hundred more Calvin’s, now.”

“So demanding. How’re your alternates?”

“They’re set up in the brothels. Just give the word.”

Calvin focused and copied himself eight times, dropping his Bent to nothing as the clones blinked in confusion a moment before getting to work checking the map of the city and marking off shops with red x’s as they claimed them.

“Word.”

Bent began flowing into him as distant Nadia’s laid hands on his hired batteries.

1/15 Bent remaining…

Bent rushed into Calvin at a speed that seared his veins.

17/15 Bent remaining.

Warning, overexposure to Bent has raised body toxicity by 18%!

“Stop!” Calvin shouted as his veins began to ache throughout his body.

“Your Stability is so pathetic. I could kill you if I wanted to, couldn’t I?” Nadia said with a malicious grin.

“It’s no big thing to be able to kill yourself,” Calvin said, making seventeen more copies of himself, who took a moment to orient themselves before grabbing loads and marking off the buildings they planned on selling their wares.

“Hit me again.”

Body:

16

Strength:

11

Kinesthetics:

11

Endurance:

11

Mind:

24

Intuition:

15

Stability:

15

Will:

24

Bent:

2/15

Skills:

Stealth

8

Talking to Girls

10

Acting

9

Read Expressions

9

Sense-Grafting

13

Knife-Work

9

Dupdomancy

15

Hunting

10

Meditation

15

Chained Spirit

15

Calvinian Summoning

15

Your Princess is in Another Castle

7

Fishing

5

Genosian Language

5

Beli Ma

6

Macronomicon

Welcome back! Hope your weekend was great! I know it's Tuesday and all, but...Eh. Close enough.

Patreon just hit chapter 93 for those who suck at waiting.  Although if you do not suck at waiting, I suggest you hold off until the turn of the month if you wanna get the most bang for your buck.

How about them moneymaking schemes, eh?