The Outworlder's Burden

Renji paced in his room, wondering just what that amulet could be that would cause him such distress. As soon as he had left, he had begun to feel better, though still uneasy. Nemi had explained to him that magic items were indeed common in this world, so it wasn’t beyond imagination that the amulet could be enchanted in some way, but if it were something so horrible that it would cause him such incredible pain, how could it not affect anyone else? Mariel, Nemi, Hestia, and especially Illya seemed entirely oblivious to the horrific choir. Despite being alone, Renji could not feel safe. His instincts screamed at him, despite his senses telling him there was no immediate threat.

Exploring the walls of his room, Renji had seen many movies, games, and stories where suspicious places would have hidden walls and secret passages that would lead him straight to the answers, but no matter how thoroughly he searched, he could not find any false walls or secret passages. Disappointed, he sat on his bed as a knock on the door interrupted the silence. A familiar set of green eyes met him as Nemi entered, a worried look on her face. “Hey, champ. How are you feeling?” She sat down beside Renji, maintaining her eye contact with him.

Renji didn’t have an immediate answer. He asked himself if he should tell her, but the answer was obvious. Nemi was perhaps his greatest confidant beyond Illya herself. If there was anyone he could trust, it was her. He didn’t mince words. He explained as clearly as he could about what he felt the moment he met the Count. He had expected Nemi to be excited at his theory of a magic item, but her expression only seemed to harden. She did not brush off his concern, nor that horrible experience over her love of magic—never, especially for him. “It sounds like it could be a cursed item. Maybe the Count doesn’t even know something was wrong with it and just thinks it’s a pretty bauble. I mean, none of us could hear or feel anything, but I don’t think you're crazy, either.”

Nemi leaned back on the bed, and stared up at the roof as her brilliant mind began to work. “It could be your blessing? You said you couldn’t hear Tiamat’s voice, but because she chose you as her champion, it’s fair to assume that some small part of her lives in you. Illya may be blessed, but her god doesn’t speak to her—though it’s rare for the gods to speak to their blessed to begin with.” Putting a gentle hand on Renji’s shoulder, Nemi’s tail snaked out from beneath her dress, gently rubbing his wrist as she leaned in to rest her head on the hand she placed upon his shoulder. “Want to try to talk to the Count about it? She has Mariel and Hestia with her.”

Renji didn’t look at her; his gaze remained downward to where his hands folded on his lap. “I don’t know. Even if we got him to believe that it was cursed, and he wanted to be rid of it, what would we do? Do we even know of a means to dispel a cursed item?”

Nemi smiled softly, her tail swaying noticeably faster. “You’re asking the right questions, Renji. We can, but depending on the nature of the cursed item, it could be as simple as a spell, or it could require a very powerful, very expensive ritual, not unlike the one that brought you here.”

“Would it even be worth it, then? Should we just leave it, and hope that it’s harmless? We can’t afford to take too many risks, but…” Renji couldn’t finish his sentence. Even recalling the feeling was like walking through swamp water with his mouth open. If they confronted the Count, there was always the chance that he didn’t believe them, and they’d be putting the relationship between Aldelthorne and Veltetion at risk, and to do so in such tumultuous times could be damning.

Nemi didn’t answer for some time. It was another good question, but one she didn’t have an immediate answer for. Politics, no matter what world you were from, was always a minefield. They could choose correctly, but still suffer greatly for it. If they chose to do nothing, there was still an inherent risk that something could go seriously wrong, and they’d be responsible for doing nothing. They stood to lose no matter which path they took, but they had to ask themselves what was “right,” and what would keep everyone happy?

A long, deep sigh escaped Nemi’s lips before she finally answered. “Let’s go. Knowing you, you’d worry regardless, right? Plus, even before you had Tiamat’s blessing, I knew you had good instincts. Call it a woman’s intuition.” Standing up, Nemi offered Renji her hand to help him get up. There was just something about Nemi’s eyes that made him feel like she understood him in a way that others had yet to see, even though Renji was sure he was imagining it. He accepted, and together they walked down the corridor to find where the Count was sitting in his recreation room, regaling his guests with how they were able to use their Dragonkiller ballistae to bring down a great wyvern.

“Ah, there you are. I trust you’re feeling better?” The Count asked, though his voice was hardly audible beyond the monstrous cacophony of voices that struck Renji once more. “Oh, perhaps not.”

Seeing Renji’s face pale so quickly, the way his shoulders tensed and his eyes had begun to water told Nemi all she needed. She had been watching his face closely since they got in, and she could sense the complete distress coursing through him. Renji was an emotionally strong man, as far as she had known him, to be shaken up like this meant that whatever cursed object was doing this must be powerful indeed. “Count Draeven, before anything else, I must ask about your amulet.”

With a swift gesture of her hand, and one whispered magic word, Nemi’s eyes began to shimmer. Her gaze swiftly fell upon Count Draeven, and the aura erupting from the object resting on his chest. “I know it’s a magic item, but I have reason to believe it may be cursed. Could you please tell us how you came to have it?”

The Count’s face twisted into indignant anger. This world, much like Renji’s, had many processes and due diligence that must be adhered to. Especially during the medieval period, for a commoner to express words of suspicion, no matter how light it was, to someone of higher social standing was far from a great idea. “Is that what the boy told you? You forget yourself, Nemi Willowen. That you are the apprentice to the King’s right-hand man doesn’t mean you are nobility yet. I will hear no such allegations from two peasants.” The growl in Draeven’s voice was enough to quake the bones of those who heard it.

Nemi opened her mouth to protest, but it was Illya, who stood up as quick as lightning, who spoke first. “Now hold it, you forget yourself, Count Draeven. They are my retainers, meaning their words are my words, and even beyond that—Renji here is a lord! My father elevated him personally after proving his loyalty to the crown!” The prideful tone in Illyandaril’s voice did not escape Renji’s notice. He thought back when she would glare at him, hardly listen to him when they spoke, yet she not only stood up for him, but did so with pride.

The Count stared at Illya before glaring at Renji. “The Outworlder was made a lord? What could the King be thinking?” He put his head in his hand, processing what he felt was a perversion of their order. “It was a gift. It isn’t cursed. Your Outworlder is just imagining things.”

Voices rose in chorus at the blatant disrespect, but while the arguments raged, all Renji could focus on was that amulet. Nemi and Illya approached Count Draeven, inquiring further about the amulet, but it was when Renji approached that the amulet glimmered. Its glow pierced Renji’s chest suddenly, and he felt like his life-force was being drained. “Ha ha! I guess even the mighty Outworlder is no better than an animal!” The Count roared, standing from his seat as he held the amulet in his hands.

It wasn’t his soul that screamed; it was those that resided within him. The manticore, the little critters, the greater beasts, each one of them cried out in unbelievable pain as he felt like they were being ripped out of him, but none of his crew sat around while this happened in front of them. Illyandaril struck the Count on the cheek, sending him flying across the recreation room and into a table that carried stacks of maps. Renji fell forward, feeling entirely hollow, like he were a puppet with its strings cut. Nemi and Mariel caught him. For a few moments, he was completely limp, but he regained consciousness, externally unharmed, but he felt like a hole had been punched through his very being.

All parties stared as Count Draeven stood up, rubbing where Illya had struck him. “Well, that’s a fine ‘thank you.’ I’m sure your father must be pleased that his daughter’s going around roughing up the countryside.”

“How dare you!” Illya shouted, stomping her foot in indignation, though even she found herself shocked. She didn’t hold back with that punch, and the fact that he was able to stand up and brush off such damage told her that something was very wrong indeed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You lot aren’t going to be leaving this place without my say-so. Illyandaril Rose, you will hear my demands! If you don’t give me what I want—” The Count was cut off as Illya threw a chair at him. He erected a barrier around him, swiftly, though as it did the screams only got worse, causing Renji to heave.

“I’m not listening to a fool like you! I trusted you because you and my dad were friends, but you’ve been pushing my buttons for far too long! Where did you get that amulet!?”

Count Draeven laughed as his skin began to alter. The screaming became so bad that Renji fell to his knees, plugging his ears and wailing from a pain he could never comprehend. “Oh, you want to know, do you?” Monstrous, fleshy wings emerged from the Count’s shoulders as an amalgamation of corruption, fur, teeth, and claws began to cover him. It was only when the transformation was complete, and the amulet sank into the pink flesh, that the screaming finally stopped. “Since you seem so keen on fighting me, why don’t you try to beat the answers out of me, little lady!?”