Business in Squalls Crossing

It had been a few days since the dungeon dive and, thanks to Phyllis’s Mall Dimension, we had been able to spend them in our own beds. And while the original trip to Talir'sahn had only taken three days, I wasn't one to turn down instant gratification. That said, there was still one more errand we needed to run before we could really relax and enjoy the break until classes started back up.

So, taking a group trip once more through the Magosdrome to Ter’aquit, we followed our familiar trek through the city and along the country roads to Squalls Crossing. Being a lot tougher this time around and more vigilant after recent experiences, the stroll was relatively relaxing and comfortable.

We arrived at the crossroads town by midday, where we immediately split into groups, with Aesandoral and Sharzin sent off to grab rooms at the nicest inn they could find. Having made quite the windfall after the last adventure, there was no harm in living a life of luxury and enjoying the fruits of our labour afterall. This left Rionriv and me to explore the streets as part of the second job.

“You going to tell me what we’re doing?” She asked, as I peeked down every street in search of our mobile target.

“We’re going to make contact with the head of Shatter,” I replied quietly after making sure no Anak’hati soldiers were nearby. “He’s in town for two days to see his daughter off.”

“His daughter off? Where’s she going that would bring him to a town under partial Anak guard?”

“She’s going to Anak’hati for the Power Word Thrill concert.”

“Ah, the one we can’t go to,” Rionriv grumbled, nodding with a disappointed glance. “Gotcha. Now I see why you chose me to join you over Aesandoral.”

“I chose you because, as the triop’s de facto leader, you deserve to be a part of this mission.”

“Nice save.”

Wandering the streets for nearly an hour, we kept close to the various bakeries and baking goods stores that I knew the mysterious figure would be visiting on his trip. As we casually loitered, I whispered into Rionriv’s head that the leader of the insurgency used his bakery business as a front for Shatter. They took advantage of the regular transportation of high-quality baked goods around Moal’aw to smuggle weapons and people in and out of the various borders.

As I rounded a corner, I stopped, suddenly catching our target out of the corner of my eye. He stood half a foot shorter than Sharzin and held a basket of baked sweets. Wearing a baggy white shirt hidden beneath green coveralls and a cap on his head large enough to obscure his face, he presented quite the forgettable appearance.

Currently, he looked up at two off-duty Anak’hati soldiers who had been casually wandering the streets, a common strategy that Anak guards employed. The patient invaders liked to patrol the streets of foreign nations in plainclothes, acting as though they were off duty, all the while searching for suspicious characters whom they could disappear in the night. The infiltrator I pursued knew this, and though I had no doubt he could tell who he was talking to, he still wore a big smile as he spoke with a nasally voice.

“Well, golly. I’m from up north a ways, but I’ll say that the people here are just a delight. They sure are lucky to have access to those Anak resources. And to have those boys in black watching after them? Boy howdy, we sure could use some of that freedom in the Sutin'eli region. Here, how about a pastry? They’re fresh.” 

At this, the man laughed slightly. With a gentle tap of his knuckles to the top of his head, he stuck out a tongue before continuing. 

“Well, they were held in a Bottomless Bag of Preserving—heh-heh—so fresh with an asterisk, heh. But please, enjoy a free sampling!”

The soldiers, completely defused by the conman’s charisma, took the pastries with a smile and went on their way. Shifting my head to watch the Anaks depart, by the time I had turned back to the small man, he had already disappeared down a nearby street. With a tap on Rionriv's shoulder to get her attention, we gave chase. Using our trained, quick, and stealthy moves, we tried to keep up with the infiltrator, but unfortunately, he was fast for his size. I already knew going into the search that a chase could be in the cards. As for Rionriv, she was surprised that the two of us, who were both exceptionally quick, still struggled to keep pace.

Eventually, we began moving down alleys instead of streets. And, with my mind focused on the pursuit, it took me a few too many turns to realize this shift had happened. This was why it came as a shock to round one final alley and find our quarry in a defensive stance with his rapier drawn.

“Why are you following me?” The man demanded.

There was no fear in his words. This was the voice of a seasoned veteran that I knew could cut me down in a moment.

“Mister Seed,” I spoke calmly, my hands in the air to show I was unarmed, “I am only here to help your bakery.”

“Well, we’re just fine, thank you.”

I pointed towards the bag on my hip and slowly reached for it. His sword flicked so quickly I barely saw it. Within a moment, my shirt billowed oddly as it sliced open, and a thin line of blood dripped from the surgical cut across my torso.

Rionriv stepped forward, but I held up my hand.

“Iz.” She growled.

“Ri, it’s fine.” I insisted. “Just a misunderstanding. I merely wanted to show my grains, I believe they would make fine flour for your sweets…General.”

I whispered the last bit as I reached into the bag and withdrew a shimmer crystal the size of my palm. With that, the man quickly approached and shoved my hand back into the bag.

“Well, those are indeed fine grains, lad! Allow me to take a closer look.” He stepped up to me, getting close enough to be heard as he spoke under his breath. “Choose your next words carefully. Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I am the Ruby Oracle, Ishara,” I said softly, looking down at the man. “I am no ally of the nationalists of Anak’hati, Ter’aquit’s plutocrats, or the bureaucrats of Sultin’eli that turn a blind eye to the suffering of this continent. I believe I can help you bring about actionable change.”

The man looked me up and down. Stepping away, he clicked a button on his rapier that quickly shrank it to the size of a dagger, which he slid into his belt.

“Damn it, Petal,” He mumbled, rubbing at his head. “Hundred and fifty years and your predictions are still accurate, huh?”

“I’m sorry, did you say Petal?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. “General Petal Highland mentioned me?”

“Yeah, and the fact that you don’t seem overly surprised means you must be somewhat familiar with her and her abilities.”

“Yeah,” I remarked with a knowing nod. “Chronomancy.”

“Yeah,” He grumbled, before rubbing at his face and releasing a sigh. “She said that one day, in one of the potential futures she saw, I would meet a traveller from beyond time and space. He would act as the Ruby Oracle and be gifted with crucial knowledge of what was to come. She insisted that if this future were to come to pass, I should listen and help the oracle when able, and in turn, his soldiers would help me in a dire time of need.”

Well, I never wrote this, so this is news to me! Damn, I just got creeped on by a time magic caster from almost two hundred years ago.

“Oh, she said all that about me?” I rubbed the back of my neck with a nervous laugh.

“She also said that if I were to come in contact with the Ruby Oracle, I needed to deliver a message.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Message begins, ‘Oracle, hear me. Your appearance has jeopardized the fragile balance of this world. No matter how hard you try, you will interfere time and again. Remember that you walk the fine line between bettering and burning this whole world. Do not waste the opportunity Ishara has given you, Tahvin.' End message.”

Chills raced through my body at the last line. She knew more than I had anticipated. Not talking to Ishara the Oracle, but speaking with Tahvin, the author.

Oh shit...

“So yeah,” The small man finished. “I hope that makes sense, and I guess, don’t screw it up?”

“Thanks,” I replied, watching as the figure drew even closer to me before placing a card into my hand. "What's this?"

Glancing down, I read the name across the front. It was the name of his shop, The Bread and Crumble Patisserie. And, in the corner, his name. Basil Seed.

“Why don’t you swing by our shop in Fallowfield next week. Bring this in and ask for your ‘free yummy with a side of delish.’ Then we can discuss those fine grains of yours, my lad.”

Basil then turned and began to leave as I called out to him a final time, “It was a pleasure to meet you finally. And, hey, don’t mind Lemon too much. She’s young.”

He stopped momentarily, no doubt wondering how I knew about his youngest daughter, his child bound by prophecy. Then he relaxed, giving me a slight wave before stepping away.

“Yeah, I was her age once,” Basil replied plainly. “A long time ago.”

And then he was gone, leaving Rionriv and me alone in the shady alley.

“Phewf—that was some intense negotiating, huh? Did you see that, Ri?”

Turning around, Rionriv looked at me with a confused stare. Her arms were crossed, not angrily, but with irritation.

“Iz?” She asked, inspecting my face. “Who’s Tahvin?”

“Huh?” I played dumb, which was probably a bad move with Rionriv.

“The succubus called you Tahvin in the dungeon. And now this guy said some long-dead General left you a message, and there was that name again. Who. Is. Tahvin?”

“Uhhhhhhh—”

Crap! What am I going to do…

---End of Volume One---