The Catacombs

Moping after dinner, I made my way back to my room, trying to remember where I was going with the crazy route which I was escorted through to get here. Wandering the halls was eerie but had its own peacefulness to it that I liked. It felt like exploring a museum late at night, not knowing what sort of exhibit or artifact you would find around the next corner.

Some turns seemed to be guarded, so I avoided them out of instinct, not wanting to start a shit-fit with the guards seemed the most prudent decision after this morning's incident. Who knew what kinds of twisted revenge that they may have planned.

After a few turns, I realised something I should have noticed.

I was lost.

The paintings on the walls seemed to stare vacantly as a lone suit of armour stood a silent vigil. It towered over me, probably two meters tall or more.

"Ah, my grandfather's armour, I see you're impressed as well." A deep voice spoke from behind.

Not ashamed to admit I jumped when that happened, but I turned around and the king was standing there in the same clothes he had his dinner in.

"Oh, it's just you, your majesty." I sighed

He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly. "Like I've said my boy, in private you can call me Uncle, but I don't blame you for not taking chances." He pulled back his hand and turned on his heels in what seemed to me as a rusty rendition of a parade ground turn. "Follow along, my boy, it's best we finish our chat in private." He strode off rather quickly, but did not give off the appearance of great speed. His composure and massive stride length gave him all the speed he required.

It almost took jogging for me to keep pace, but a power walk seemed to do the trick.

We wound through the corridors on a circuitous route that I'm dead sure was meant to confuse me about wherever we were going. Clearly, whatever was at the end was something the king didn't trust just anyone with.

When we had reached a corridor devoid of doors and seemingly also life, he ducked behind a much older suit of armour. It was a different design with more padded parts than the others, dented and chipped as if it had seen many battles. One stain on the right side of the stomach was a worrying shade of dark crimson.

"So, what happened to this poor bugger?"

He didn't face me, instead looking at the wall while running a hand over a small area. "It was my grandfather's battle armour. He wasn't fond of using the ornate gear in the field. A very practical man, he was." With a subtle click, the wall behind the armour display slid open. "Follow me, you need to see this."

I followed along into the dark corridor, seeing the stones change in design and smoothness. "Wait, I thought your grandfather's armour was the big shiny one up front."

We came up to a glowing blue torch on the wall, but it didn't have a flame of any sort. It was closer to an LED light but modelled like a classic torch. My mind went to the obvious comparison and I had to stifle a laugh before the king noticed.

"Yes, the gods did not lack for a sense of humour. The implication isn't lost on me."

I turned slightly red at that, didn't expect him to notice or comment if he did. Was a bit awkward to be totally honest.

“So, where are we going?”

“My boy, you will see for yourself when we get there.” He didn’t care to elaborate further.

He didn’t say anything after that, just led me along through the tunnels, only the echoes of our footsteps and the noise of our breath to accompany us. After a while, the king broke the silence.

“I heard what you did on your way through the city. Confronting any captain of the royal guard is not the brightest idea, but tell me, why did you try to pick a fight with Captain Church? He could’ve put you into hospital with ease.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I tried to use the same emotion sensing trick I did before. I pointed my palm towards the king while holding it casually next to my thigh as we walked.

I couldn’t sense a thing.

Maybe I was doing it wrong, maybe I could only do it under specific conditions, maybe he was resisting it. In any scenario it was bleedingly obvious that I didn’t have much of an understanding of it and probably never would.

“He was being a dick, so I showed him who’s boss. It’s not like I shot him or anything, all I hurt was his pride.”

The king chuckled weakly before stopping to look back at me.

“Don’t antagonise Captain Church agan, you hear me? Man is a good soldier, but his old habits will come out if you push him. If he wants to win back his pride, he will face you again.”

He stopped and looked at what seemed like an unassuming section of the wall, before holding his special torch up to it.

A symbol on the wall began to glow. It was the same three rings I kept seeing on everything. He placed the torch against it and the stones in the wall began to slide back before splitting to reveal a perfectly-cut doorway, which had sat so flush as to be completely invisible before.

I looked at the king in shock. He held the torch up and smirked.

“Not just a dirty joke, this little thing.”

I had to stop myself from laughing, but ended up snorting instead. Didn’t exactly come off as impressive.

Beyond the mysterious secret door

"This place was not built by us, we are merely building atop what the gods have given us, over what has come before."

Down a short corridor, it led out into a circular room with a large chamber gaping ominously behind it. In the middle there sat a single pedestal surrounded by lights affixed to pillars. Atop it sat a strange weapon. It had a crosswise hilt, projecting two triangular blades forward into a wickedly sharp tip, the back end doing the same around where the wielder's wrist should be.

I approached the blade out of curiosity, not waiting for the king. On closer inspection, the blade's edge was full of tiny holes, barely visible to the naked eye. On closer inspection, the hilt also had them, as well as what looked like a dormant version of the bumps on my palms on the underside, where it would be in contact with such. That much on its own seemed to indicate to me that the blade was designed for me, or at least someone with a core in their guts.

"This blade, forged untold centuries ago, has been the blade of every arbiter we have record of. Who wielded it first, we may never know, but its power is needed once more." The king pulled out a very strange triangular scabbard from a hidden compartment in the back of the pedestal itself. He held it out for me. I hadn’t even noticed him walk past and behind the pedestal, I was too busy looking at the thing.

"This blade now falls to you, Arbiter. It is yours to wield as you see fit. Take it."

I smirked, grabbing for the sword like I would reach for another beer, with none of the gravity or reverence that the situation probably demanded.

"Don't mind if I do!" I exclaimed as my hand wrapped the hilt, a protrusion from the center splitting the middle and ring fingers on my left hand. As I lifted the sword up to the light, its brilliant shine making sparks dance across the cold metals of the room, the blade itself began to glow. A faint blue glow began to emanate from the blade, as it did a faint humming noise could be heard. I held it closer to my face to examine it before lifting the twin tips to the light, it was then that it glowed a brilliant blue and the humming became easily audible.

"Ah shit, I broke it."

"I see you are fond of a good joke. The sword is fine, all you did was turn it on.” The king chuckled as he gazed around the room. “Looks like the gods tried to pick one of their own.

"I'm sorry what?" I said in confusion, accidentally bringing the sword to bear at him.

"Don't you point that thing at me! You could cut me in half, careless boy." Vralis seemed scared more than anything, merely scolding a child rather than a man who was aiming a weapon at him. "Will it to turn off."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Just think it off. If you want it to do something, it will obey without question." He replied as if it were plainly obvious.

Taking his advice, I looked at the sword and projected my thoughts into it.

'Turn off'

Its blue glow faded until the blade was back to how it was before. Taking the scabbard, I placed the blade within and slung it over my back so that the hilt rested just behind my left shoulder, within easy reach whenever I needed it. The two leather tips, capped in shining steel, stuck out past my right hip. It was handy that it already came with the belt and the support belt for the other shoulder to hold it in place. A few little loops and hooks on it looked like I could attach other pouches to it or even a small bag if I needed to.

Now I look the part. Now I look like a hero.

My hand twitched up involuntarily and began to glow. From my palm came a projection of my new blade, with the words 'Scan Complete' in front of them.

Just like with Leena’s pistol.

I knew the drill by now, so I tried to force my hand back down.

But it didn't work.

'Corrupted data reconfigured, unlocking related archives.'

It was then my mind was overwhelmed with thousands of flashing images of dozens of fighting styles laid out move by move. Each one held in a different pair of hands, but all as if they were my own.

"So, it worked. I was hoping this would happen."

"What. The hell. Was that?" I panted weakly, having to steady myself by putting my hands on my knees.

“You could see it, couldn’t you? Places you’ve never been, people you never met, foes you’ve never faced. That one sword wielded by many different hands that weren’t your own.”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Those were the memories of the men who fought and died here, each one bearing the core within their chests as you do now. It kept alive the stories of what happened. The only reason the people seem strange toward you is because they know the stories all too well.”

He pointed at the glowing light under my shirt, a neutral look on his face as if he were dealing with matters of state and not speaking to somebody who he wanted to bring into the family.
“That core remembers everything. Its memories are now your own. Those that held it before you are now a part of who you are. If something ever seems strange or even familiar to you, follow in the footsteps of those who came before.”

I looked at the opening in the back of the room again, it seemed out of place. “So what’s down there?”

He couldn’t look at me, turning his back on me and walking down with the weird torch.

“Here lies the bodies of all who’ve come before. Every Arbiter from first to last. Each summoned and consumed in a time of great crisis. The forming of the human alliance, The Dwarven rebellion, were it not for the Arbiters, all on this ring would have died long ago.”

I could’ve sworn that sounded familiar, but my head was still spinning from absorbing a thousand years of memories. Might have lost a few of my own in the shuffle.

When your time on this ring is up, Arbiter, you will rest here alongside all that have come before. You are far from the first, but you will not be the last.”

I gazed up and down the rows on the wall, plaques with names engraved but only stacked two high, stretching beyond the dim glow of the light. Each held the listed deeds and titles of those that came before me.

“Now, you must call upon them to guide you back from this place. I shall be waiting.”

The whole room went dark.

I was alone.