Ironheart Fortress

  A flash of blue light filled and subsequently faded from everyone’s vision as they stepped away from the teleport crystal. They held their brown cloaks tightly to their wind-buffeted bodies as they made their way through the dirt road surrounding their point of ingress. The clearing they arrived in was surrounded by several spartanly decorated businesses and gauche, two storey buildings that could only be warehouses for storing transported goods. The place was rough and dirty, but so were they.

  It had been a long day for the trio, but it wasn’t over yet. Artyom, Neitra, and Rugul arrived at their destination, Ironheart Fortress, in one piece, and intended to keep it that way. After a grueling battle against the Dark Lord’s personal Kill Team and the supposed incarnation of the goddess’ wrath in the form of a giant, nigh-invulnerable winged serpent, they were ready to find a safe space and hunker down.

  Well, that would be the case if it weren’t for Neitra’s demand to see the undeniable proof of the goddess’ malicious nature. Artyom didn’t blame her for holding such a desire, and had come to value her as an ally too much to leave her over a simple bout of exhaustion. He’d trudged through worse besides.

  The first step, however, was finding sanctuary. To that effect, the trio briskly made their way out of the small, claustrophobic square towards a district hopefully more amenable to tourists such as themselves.

  “Hey, Artyom,” began Neitra. “Don’t you think it looks a bit suspicious for us all to be walking around in dark cloaks like this? People might think we’re spies or assassins, or something.”

  “Well, I for one am an assassin and quite proud of the fact,” Rugul quickly replied. “Besides, my clothes underneath would be even more of a dead giveaway, so I’ll keep mine on, fine thank you.”

  “Rugul’s right about himself,” added Artyom, turning his head around to glance at the other two. “As for me, I think it’d be even more suspicious to walk around covered in snake goop. If you aren’t covered in too much blood from the kill team yourself, feel free to take yours off. We only really needed them to get out of that last town in a way that Tommy’s girls wouldn’t be able to track us by asking around for people who fit our descriptions.”

  “Mmh, fine,” replied Neitra, holding her cloak more tightly to herself, reminded of the events and fears that had made her flee with the others. “On second thought, I think I’ll keep this on for a while longer.”

  “Smart,” retorted Rugul. “After a job as big as that, you can be sure I’d be running for a safe room. Speaking of which, it’s time I found one of my own.”

  “You’re not coming with us?” asked Artyom, mildly surprised at Rugul’s sudden desire to depart.

  “No offense, but you’re the last person I’d trust to find a safe hiding place. You seem to have a knack for attracting trouble.”

  Artyom frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated to actually come up with a proper response. “Honestly, I can’t entirely disagree with that, but this time we don’t have someone to snitch on our positions. Anyway, let’s meet up once we do find a place. We still need to discuss what we’re going to do next. I mean, after I show Neitra the proof.” He quickly corrected himself after seeing the look Netira gave him.

  Rugul nodded once before splitting from the rest of the group, making his way down a narrow alleyway and out of sight.

  Soon after he left, the remaining duo finally exited the harsh urban district and entered the more homely tourist section of the town. Being primarily built for militaristic reasons, Ironheart Fortress wasn’t as warm and inviting as a place like Sandy Cove, but the change in scenery did offer a wave of relief from where they’d just been.

  With the purely utilitarian buildings no longer reaching towards the sky, Artyom could better make out the space around him. The sky had a thick, muggy gray sweeping across it, keeping those under its banner feeling constrained no matter where in the city they went. The bright paints used to decorate the new buildings of this district helped alleviate the melancholic atmosphere. However, now with a clear view of the sky, that wasn’t even what caught his attention the most. A cradle of white stone surrounded them in all directions at a significant distance. The duo couldn’t tell how far away it was exactly, but the bright, gleaming walls seemed to swallow entire dozens of square miles within its circumference. The brilliant sheen of the barrier was a sight all of its own, acting as a veritable atlas in keeping the misery of the dreary sky from crushing the citizens under its aegis.

  “That is one impressive wall,” commented Artyom to himself. “How big do you think that is?”

  “201 feet, and it’s all a single piece of stone so there isn’t any structural weakness. The masons practice constantly, so they’re all at a really high level,” replied Neitra, matter of factly. “I remember reading about it in the library back at Sandy Cove, since I figured we’d have to come here eventually to defeat the Dark Lord.”

  “Seriously?! That’s impressive,” said Artyom, letting loose a whistle in admiration. “Looks like we did get here sooner than intended. But that just hopefully means we’ll get to put an end to all of this ahead of schedule.”

  The duo continued through the streets of the tourist district, passing by small groups of plainly dressed people going about their business. They all seemed to wear the same style of linen clothing dyed in variations of the same dull hues. Steel blues, light beiges, and occasional streaks of maroon. Despite their fashion limitations, the townsfolk made their styles work for them, with the occasional wildly colored bonnet or scarf livening up the otherwise dull clothes.

  “Alright, that building looks a lot like an inn. Let’s head there,” said Artyom, leading Neitra past a group of about a dozen children in matching uniforms being led by a middle aged lady.

  They entered the three storey building, a standout from the single-floored establishments surrounding it, and made their way to the wooden counter at the very end of the room. They passed by several sparse crowds enjoying late lunches while seated at comfortable looking tables, and approached the woman manning the counter. She looked to be in her 30s, sporting brown hair similar to Neitra’s but tied in a bun, and dressed in plain uniform.

  “Hello there!” she exclaimed with a steady smile upon seeing the two. “Welcome to the White Wall, Ironheart Fortress’ premier inn! How can I help you today?”

  While the line sounded rehearsed, Artyom couldn’t help but smile at its genuine delivery. He put on a light smirk in return as he replied. “Hi, we’d like a place to stay for the next few weeks. Are there any openings?”

  The lady observed the duo with a teasing glint in her eye, smiling slightly wider than before. “Of course! Our honeymoon suite is already booked sadly, but we have this wonderfully cozy room available.”

  Neitra flinched at the implication, and tried to correct her. “Oh, we’re not actually-”

  “Actually, we were hoping you had a room with two separate beds in it?” interrupted Artyom.

  The attendant and Neitra both gave him funny looks.

  “We have a guest staying with us,” Artyom added. “And the separate bed is for him.”

  “Ah, I see,” replied the attendant, now mostly mollified. “We have a room just like that open on the second floor. Now there isn’t a set checkout date so you can stay as long as you’d like, and it costs one gold a night.”

  “One gold?!” sputtered Neitra.

  “Of course,” continued the woman, her smile beginning to strain. “That’s because of the tourism tax here. Everyone has to do their part in the fight against the Sworn Enemy, even if you are just visiting.”

  “Sworn Enemy?” asked Neitra, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “You mean the Dark Lord, right?” asked Artyom in tandem.

  “That’s right!” exclaimed the attendant, before drawing close and whispering. “Though we don’t refer to him as such around here. We don’t want to dignify the title.”

  Artyom and Netira replied with understanding nods, while the rogue fished out several gold coins in exchange for a key to their room.

  “Alright, that should cover your stay for the next four days. If you wish to stay longer, just come down and pay whoever is at this table at the time, or simply hand back the key to check out. Enjoy your stay!”

  The duo thanked the woman and made their way up the stairs positioned right behind her station. As they walked down the empty hallway of the second floor towards their new room, a slightly annoyed Neitra spoke up.

  “Why do you want us to stay in the same room?” asked Neitra, walking beside him. “I was about to ask for separate ones, and we can afford it.”

  “In case we get ambushed at night, we’ll be able to watch each others’ backs more easily,” he replied, still looking ahead. “I can ward my own room to wake me up in case of any intruders, but if it’s your room that has uninvited guests, I have to be close by to actually do anything about it.”

  Neitra nodded in understanding. “Alright, that makes sense. But why didn’t you let me correct her about us being a couple?” she asked, a frown now matching her knitted brow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want people to think of us as such.”

  “You’re right, I do,” replied Artyom, matter of factly. “People who think that we’re a pair of young lovers will be less suspicious of us than if we were seen as a team of battle-hardened adventurers.”

  “Ok, fair,” replied Neitra with a pout. “But please tell me there isn’t actually going to be a ‘third guest’ staying with us? I’m not going to sleep on the couch for Rugul.”

  “Of course not!” exclaimed Artyom, turning to her to show off a look of indignation. “Do you really think I’d be that uncouth? I’d make sure he’d be the one sleeping on the couch, anyway.”

  “Your dirty language says otherwise,” replied Neitra with a mischievous smile, trying hard to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone curse like you before.”

  “Right, fairytale World,” mumbled Artyom, before raising his voice back to a normal volume. “Yeah, I’d better start watching that if I want to fit in better.”

  As he said that, the duo arrived at their room. Neitra unlocked the door and took the first step in, Artyom right behind her. They entered a cozy space featuring a pair of beds on opposite sides of the room with a table and several chairs between, and a three-person couch lined up against the furthest wall. Unlike the other inns they stayed at during their travels, this one featured a built-in bathroom with a sink, toilet, and shower. At least the gratuitous cost was already paying for itself.

  Neitra walked up to one of the beds, and as soon as she removed her cloak, dropped right onto it. She hit the soft cushion with a barely audible thud, letting the cotton mattress absorb her weariness as she moaned in exhaustion.

  Artyom wanted to mimic her display of comfort in his own bed, but he knew there was still business to attend to. He stepped away from the half-open door, circumambulated the room, and finally settled down in one of the chairs. He did at least allow himself a contented sigh as he closed his eyes and waited for everyone else to join him.

  Out of sheer will, Neitra lifted herself out of the bed and dragged her feet over to an empty chair. She promptly sat herself down and the duo looked expectantly at the third chair. They looked at it for about five seconds before one of them replied.

  “So are you going to take a seat?” asked Artyom, to no one in particular.

  “Alright, how did you know I was here?” replied Rugul, as he appeared from behind a shadow on the far side of the room and made his way to close the door. He gently pushed it shut and approached the final unoccupied chair. The wicker-covered wood didn’t so much as creak when he took his seat, telling more of how hard he was trying to make up for being caught rather than his casual stealth.

  “It honestly seemed like the kind of thing you’d do,” replied Neitra. “Plus, Artyom left the door open so you’d be able to come in.”

  “I would’ve come in through the window, it’s not like I needed the help, you know,” said Rugul, trying much too hard to hide the pout forming on his face.

  “Alright, if everyone’s settled in, let’s talk business,” said Artyom, trying equally hard to hide the devilish grin from manifesting on his. “I’ve warded the room against sound, so let’s talk shop.”

  “I’ve got a place for myself now, so no need to worry about that, or loaning me your couch,” began Rugul. “So onto more important matters, now what?”

  “First, I need to see the so-called proof of the goddess and the other ladies with Tommy being evil,” said Neitra.

  “Right, and we’ll get to it next,” replied Artyom. “But before getting that proof, we need to figure out what we’re going to do after that, while we’re all still here. You’ll definitely get your proof, don’t worry about that.”

  “Alright, but are you really safe now?” asked Rugul. “The Spymaster probably thinks I’m dead, so he won’t come looking for me. What about you two?”

  “Well, the goddess either thinks we’re also dead, or has her agents on the lookout for us,” replied Artyom. “Seeing as how none of them knew I went to each of the other party members’ hometowns and dug up all of that dirt on them, I can assume we can’t be tracked through our usage of the teleport crystals.”

  “Is that everything, then?” asked Neitra, growing frustrated at the meandering conversation. “Because I’d like to see that proof today, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “Sorry, Neitra, I just want to make sure we don’t die after we see it,” said Artyom, as softly as he could make the words come out of his mouth. He was also frustrated at Neitra’s impatience, but empathized with her. She’d just had her entire worldview broken earlier that day by him, and she deserved to have her continued trust dignified with the proof she asked for. “So let’s actually discuss what our next steps are.”

  Neitra glared at him for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes and sighed, acquiescing. “Alright. So what are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got two choices,” continued Artyom, now hosting a small smile. “First, we make contact with whoever my friends sent to look for me, either by finding them first or waiting for them to find us. Second, we destroy the source of whatever is interfering with my ability to reach my friends.”

  “Hold on,” interrupted Neitra. “If we go with either of those options, what happens to the rest of us?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Artyom. “You two will be safe, especially under their care once they get involved.”

  “No, I mean ‘us’ as in the Kingdom,” replied Neitra with a frown. “If you go back home with Tommy, what happens with our fight against the Dark Lord? He’s supposed to be our only hope to stop him!”

  “Oh, that,” said Artyom, caught off guard. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then looked down with a sigh. “My goal when I first came here was to get Tommy out if he was in a bad place. He doesn’t realize it yet, but he is, and my friends will do whatever they can to get him somewhere safe. If the goddess can bring in new people from Earth, my friends won't settle for just grabbing the hero and getting out of here, they’ll do whatever it takes to stop her once and for all.”

  “So they’ll be here for a while,” said Neitra with a suspicious leer, repeating what she considered the most important takeaway. “So how does that affect the Kingdom?”

  “That’s right, we’ll be here for a while,” confirmed Artyom, looking up to meet her gaze. He took another deep breath before continuing. “By the looks of things, the Dark Lord is wrapped up in this goddess business as well, what with his assassins and kill team coming after us two specifically instead of Tommy, and how the source of the interference is located right in the middle of his fortress. When they do get here, I can guarantee that they’ll take him out as part of their mission. And even if they don’t do it directly, they’ll pick a big enough fight with him to let the Kingdom finish him off for good.”

  “That’s better,” replied Neitra, her expression only partially softening. “So now which of those two choices do we go with? If the Kingdom isn’t going to be saved by the goddess, then your friends might be our only hope, and they need to find you here to help. Finding whoever was sent to get you sounds like the easiest option, so let’s go with that.”

  Artyom couldn’t help but smile slightly as he replied, finding a strange happiness in assuaging an anger he was at fault for provoking. “It sounds like the easier option, but there are a few problems with that. Whatever scout was sent to find me might not be as prepared to deal with whatever the goddess will throw at them, which could be much worse than assassins now that she’s already gotten a taste of my meddling. If they try to be subtle however, then it could take an incredibly long time for them to find me. I’ve seen some of these scouts in action. When they want to go slow, they can take months!”

  Neitra raised her eyebrows at the suggested timescale. “And who’s to say the goddess won’t find us before then?”

  “Exactly! So then we’re stuck with the second option; we raid the Dark Lord’s fortress and destroy whatever’s keeping me here.”

  “Will we even be able to get across with just the two of us?” asked Neitra.

  “Three of us,” corrected Rugul. “And if you just try to charge in there, no you won’t.”

  “But with just the three of us, we have the option to use stealth,” added Artyom, his smile growing coy. “Rugul, is there a back door you can sneak us in through?”

  The assassin put his hand to his chin and sat still for several seconds, deep in thought. Eventually, he placed his hand back down on the chair’s arm and addressed the others. “There is a secret entrance for assassins such as myself, but you’d be caught if you tried to go through there.”

  “We could always disguise ourselves as assassins and sneak through,” replied Artyom with an incredulous look as he stated what he considered to be the obvious. “I swear, this taint…” he thought to himself. “To be fair, sneaking in is also pretty basic as far as plans go, so maybe I shouldn’t act so smart about it either.”

  “Hmm, I suppose I could sneak back in and get a pair of assassin robes for you both,” said Rugul. “It’ll take some time, though.”

  “That’s fine, as long as it doesn’t take you months,” replied Artyom. “But we can’t just barge in and start breaking whatever we see, hoping we smash the right thing. Rather, we should use the opportunity to interrogate our next best lead on the matter; the Dark Lord’s spymaster. He’s the one who sent the assassins and kill team after us over Tommy, he’s definitely working the closest with the goddess and probably knows where to find what we’re looking for.”

  “That makes things even more difficult,” retorted Rugul, leaning forward. “The spymaster’s always heavily guarded and incredibly paranoid. Besides an elite team of assassins, he also has a large portion of the Dark Lord’s forces acting as private security. On top of that, he only allows certain assassins to come see him at any given time. Even if we’re disguised, they’ll catch us before we get a chance to meet him.”

  “Wow, that is paranoid,” replied Artyom with a whistle of surprise. “It’s like he expects to be attacked this way.” He took several seconds to consider the conundrum. “Is there any way to edit his schedule, or find us disguises for whoever he’s supposed to be seeing on a certain day?”

  “Huh, that’s a pretty good idea,” said Rugul. “Sure, I’ll look into it, but it’s going to take longer. Maybe a couple of days to a week?”

  “That’s something I can work with,” said Artyom back. “In the meantime, Neitra and I can get ready for the raid-”

  Neitra interrupted him with a grumble.

  “-after I show her the proof,” he concluded. “But one other thing to consider is the matter of the riddle you found. It’s a total shot in the dark, but I wouldn’t mind having access to some mythic firepower if we’re going up against the supposed big bad of this World.”

  “Alright, that’s fair,” replied Rugul. “How did it go again?”

  “It went like this,” said Artyom as he took out the sheet of paper Rugul handed him earlier that day, reading its contents. “The good follow it, while the wicked shun it. For countless aeons, it is the foundation that all structure has been built on. It may be made by commandment, but its true form is resolute. It is the essence of ‘ought’ and is fulfilled by ‘shall’. Of my domains, this is what I truly embody.”

  “Still have no clue what it is,” said Rugul, putting one leg on top of the other as he leaned back in his chair.

  “With riddles like these, I usually like to do a meta-analysis,” began Artyom. “Who wrote it, why, and what were they thinking when they did?”

  “Wow, I thought I was lost before, but you sure showed me!” chuckled Rugul.

  “Oh, don’t think you’re so dumb like that,” replied Artyom. “I’m sure you understood that second sentence, at least. Right?”

  Rugul waved his hand in a circle, urging Artyom to continue his previous train of thought.

  “Alright, so what we know is that it was written by this World’s god of death, Yama, to guard a weapon named the Yamastra. I know that there’s a Hindu and Buddhist version of him, both with the same name and domain. Seeing as how there were a couple of other Hindu deities in that book, I can assume he’s from the latter. And he probably wants to protect his weapon such that only the worthy can get their hands on it. That should narrow it down tremendously, but I’m rusty on my mythology. If my phone still worked, I could at least call a friend for help. Damn, I’ve really got to get Gus to download Wikipedia onto this thing!”

  The other two stared at him in a mix of mild wonder and confusion.

  “Oh, sorry!” said Artyom, lifting his hands into the air with a guilty smile. “But the point is, I’m pretty lost too. Anyway, we have time, so let’s just get to business and we can worry about it later.”

  “Fine by me,” replied Rugul, getting out of his chair and heading for the window. “I’ll be in contact with you in the next few days. We can meet up here, or if you get attacked, then at that one beach cave all the way back in Sandy Cove.”

  “Sounds good to me, see ya later,” said Artyom, concluding the conversation. He turned to Neitra with a friendly smile. “Now, let’s get you that proof.”

  Everyone left the room, Rugul through the window in an obvious attempt at making up for his previous less-than-stellar entrance, and the other two out the door like normal people. The duo made their way down the stairs and out into the wider city, but not before washing away the blood and ichor on their bodies in their room’s built-in bathroom and changing into a fresh pair of clothes. Thankfully for Artyom, his demand to use the facilities first was accepted. On account of being covered in the winged serpent’s foul ichor, his attempts to convince Neitra to let him go first were simple, marking one positive moment in his day.

  Finally on the streets and headed to find proof for Neitra, the duo made their way towards a larger group of townsfolk than they’d encountered thus far. As they pushed past the crowd, it seemed to only grow denser, until they all heard a whistle.

  Immediately the crowd, as if it were a single cohesive entity, began to part along the center of the street to the sides. Artyom and Neitra were caught in the sudden wave of movement, thrown to the street corners themselves, but luckily not separated.

  The whistle sounded again, this time with the blare of some kind of horn in the distance, and several men and women dressed in a sashed uniform walked down the street, making sure the way was clear and heralding an even larger congregation.

  Just behind the whistlers was a group of similarly uniformed people blowing on shining brass trumpets, leading a young woman holding an oversized flag. It occurred to Artom what he was witnessing; a parade. He took a quick glance at Neitra. Seeing her focused on the procession, he decided to accept the delay and enjoy the show.

  After the initial color guard came a small battalion of armed soldiers, marching with incredible precision by keeping in step with each other. Pikes and lances bobbed up and down to the rhythm of the horns, and at one point, a spellcaster threw a gout of flame into the air in an impressive pyrotechnic display.

  The watching townsfolk cheered the entire time as they passed by, only quieting down as the rear guard gestured to the end of the event. Neitra approached one of the viewers, an older lady in a plain steel blue blouse.

  “Excuse me, but is there anything special going on today for there to be a parade?” asked Neitra after getting her attention. “It was nice, and everyone seemed especially excited about it!”

  “Hm?” replied the woman. “Of course not, the parade comes by every day!”

  “Oh,” said Neitra with a slightly puzzled expression. “Then why were you all cheering so loudly if it happens every day?”

  “I see, you must be new here,” she noted with a knowing smile. “These brave young men and women fight against the Sworn Enemy, and put their lives on the line to keep us and the rest of the Kingdom safe. The least we owe them is our appreciation!”

  “Yeah, they definitely deserve it,” replied Neitra with a warm smile. “I just hope the Dark Lord will be defeated once and for all soon.”

  “We call him the Sworn Enemy around here, don’t want to show any undue respect to such a terrible person, you know!” she half-cackled. “But I just hope the Great Hero finishes his quest soon so we can be free. But until then, I’ll keep my faith in our soldiers.” The woman looked towards the distant warriors with a melancholic smile.

  “Well, thank you for your time, miss,” said Neitra, concluding their conversation and heading back to Artyom’s side.

  Artyom didn’t mind the detour, he’d take any kind of distraction from the day he was having. The duo turned around and began walking towards the town’s teleport crystal, ready to finally get the last bit of business for the day over with, when-

  “Artyom, is that you?” came a voice from behind them, at the very tail end of the parade.

  Artyom didn’t bother to stop or turn his head. Being discovered by an enemy at his most vulnerable was one of his worst fears, now apparently made manifest. If he pretended to be someone else and not pay the call any heed, maybe whoever recognized him would have second thoughts. He was still heavily disguised with an altered facial structure, after all.

  “Hey, wait!” shouted the voice again. Artyom could tell it was a young man, but beyond that, he had no leads. Except that it sounded very familiar…

  Artyom picked up his pace to get away, but whoever had called him out broke into a sprint to catch up to him. Heavy footsteps thudding along the ground closed in on the duo. Artyom sighed in resignation and cast his full suite of combat spells, with Photonic Pathfinder to round it out, not wanting to take even a single risk against another threat.

  He pirouetted on his left heel, ready to deliver a roundhouse kick with his right leg, while Neitra pulled out a knife and twirled it in her hand once before grabbing it in a reverse grip. As Artyom was about to send his foot flying, he stumbled to a stop.

  “Wait!” he shouted at Neitra, who looked at him in surprise but delayed her own attack.

  “I knew it! It is you!” shouted the young man, brandishing a wide smile and neat, blond hair. He wore a chainmail shirt and had a sword strapped to his back, the very same as when Artyom first met him.

  “Who is he?” asked Neitra, keeping her gaze and combat stance locked on the newcomer.

  “Neitra, this is an old… party member of mine,” said Artyom, feeling a pang of guilt rise up from deep within his mind.

  “Nice to meet you!” he replied, now looking towards Neitra with the same smile, just slightly warier. “I’m Sae!”