Interlude 1: The Hound of Blood and Rank

A man in a dark suit walked down the stone halls of the great academy of Ars Demia. Despite the late hour, the scholarly institute still teemed with life as numerous people bustled around heading for laboratories or libraries. Most were gnomes, an expected sight in Detreye given its population.

‘At least their aspirations and ego make them build big,’ the man thought as he made his way to his appointment, his aura expanded around him. The crowds gave him a wide berth. An odd sight since gnomes in general, and those with the skill or connection to be part of a scholarly caste in particular, often considered themselves above others and would expect an outsider like him to move out of their way.

But the gnomes, and the few humans and elves that were lucky enough to catch a sponsor’s eye, went out of their way to avoid him. Not only with their steps but very few looked at him for more than a second before averting their eyes.

‘At least my abilities aren’t impacted by my condition,’ he thought wryly as he came to a downward stairway. He descended, heading for the private laboratory of his contact, drawing his aura in. He came to a sudden stop as weariness began to overtake him. He sluggishly brought his hand into his pant pocket and wrapped his numb fingers around a warm, smooth stone.

A wave of strength flowed into him from it, his body returning to normal as vital energies suffused his flesh. He pulled his panacea out, a critical eye examining the smooth red oval cupped in his hand. The red light that pulsed within had dimmed, giving him a visual indication of what his arcane sense told him: half empty.

Scowling, he slipped the stone back into his pocket and continued on his journey down. Several minutes later, the man reached the bottom floor of the institution. The architecture matched the upper levels, though the embellishments were absent, giving the arched chamber a cave-like feel.

He marched towards the furthest door set against the wall at the end of the empty room. It swung open when he was still several meters away, revealing a balding gnome, the remnants of his red hair turning white with age. He wore simple working attire of a shirt and trousers though both were obscured by the large leather apron he wore over them.

“Ah, perfect,” he exclaimed. “Mr. Harker, good to see you again. I believe you will find our progress to your satisfaction. Come in, come in.”

“I take it you were able to fix the device, Martius,” Harker said as he followed the gnome into his lair, fashioned more like a sitting room than a laboratory; bookshelves lined the walls and a pair of comfortable chairs sat before a fireplace.

“Yes, yes,” he responded. “After our last meeting, I was hit with inspiration. Normally, we use hard materials like crystals to hold mana within. However, since we’re trying to hone in on something using your unique resonance to it, the rigid nature of those containers couldn’t handle the strain and, well, boom.”

“Yes, I know all that,” Harker interjected cooly. “I was strapped into the thing when it failed.”

Martius ignored his guest’s remark. “So, after failing to rework the system to account for the strain, I looked for alternatives. Given the nature of our work, I had to go outside of the usual network. And I found an interesting prospect. Something of a mercenary alchemist. Normally, I wouldn’t give such a character a second glance, but since we can’t afford to overlook any option, I proposed a hypothetical close in nature to our problem to test her knowledge.”

“Let me guess,” Harker interjected. “Her solution solved it perfectly. Why can’t you just get to the point?”

Martius puffed up indignantly. “I’ll have you know her solution wasn’t a perfect fit, but held promise, so I brought her in. It was her modifications to the sensory system that picked up your approach.”

“I take it she’s here then?” Harker asked.

“Yes,” the gnome academic responded. “Her method is very hands-on, so her being on hand is necessary.” He chuckled a bit as his wordplay. “Well, that’s enough banter, I suppose. Time to get to the meat and potatoes, shall we?”

Harker nodded and followed the gnome out of his cozy front room and into the laboratory proper. In contrast to the almost homey atmosphere of the entry, the workspace was stark and cold. Dominating the chamber was the project Martius had been working on.

It consisted of a large metal chair. Where in its last iteration it had been surrounded by a ring of crystals atop metal spires, this version sat in the center of a pool of burgundy liquid, several pillars rising from the edge. Rubber tubes ran from the pool into a horseshoe-shaped reservoir attached to the chair, giving it something like an armrest. Attending the device was a young woman with dirty blonde hair pulled into a braid, her frame cloaked in a large red coat. Numerous vials and flasks were strapped to it, swinging precariously as she moved about.

Their entrance grabbed her attention and she turned to face them, giving the two men an eyeful of the cleavage her tucked in white halter top exposed, a sly grin on her face.

“So,” she said, her voice carrying a cocky undertone, “I take it this is our mysterious backer, Boss?”

“Indeed he is,” Martius replied in a pleasant tone. “Mr. Harker, may I introduce you to Ms. Lynn.”

Harker studied the alchemist, extending his arcane senses towards the woman. Her aura radiated self-assuredness, perfectly matching her physical outward appearance. He resisted cocking an eyebrow. Nearly everyone had some hidden emotion, an undercurrent to their aura that shed light on their true thoughts. Martius’ aura always carried a hint of his frustration with the higher-ups of the institution, the same frustration that led to their cooperation.

“Let’s hope your modifications to the device work,” Harker said, purposely being curt to gauge her reaction. Her aura rippled with annoyance before she reigned in her emotions, none of it showing on her face.

‘Very professional,’ he thought. ‘Not letting her emotions ruin the meeting. She’s been at this for a while.’

He eased his posture. A professional was someone he could work with. Get the job done properly, no unneeded questions.

“So how do these upgrades work?” he asked, inspecting the changed chair.

“Well,” Martius piped up, “Ms. Lynn’s compound is primed to synchronize to your mana and from there, the system will function as we’ve discussed, honing in on the closely related signatures. Now, how about we begin calibrating it? You’ll have to remove your shoes and socks and roll up your sleeves. More contact for mana infusing.”

Harker was about to comply with the pushy gnome’s orders when a sharp jolt of pain through his chest caused him to stagger. Before the gnome or alchemist could say anything, Harker gasped out, “Get this thing ready to lock on!”

Martius gaped for a second before scurrying towards one of the pillars that rose out of the pool, adjusting several crystal dials. Harker worked through the pain that pulsed opposite to his heartbeat and ripped off his shoes, forcing himself towards the chair. A fresh wave of agony nearly drove him to the floor, but something caught him.

A ribbon of liquid pressed into his chest, holding him up. He tracked it back to a vial hanging from Lynn’s red coat, its owner controlling the extended and oddly solid tentacle of liquid with an extended hand.

“I’m going to guess whatever’s happening is connected to our work,” she said seriously, her eyes sharply focused as she helped Harker to the chair. “And we don’t have time to waste playing Twenty Questions.”

Despite the pain, Harker let a rare smirk through his dispassionate facade. “Good observation. Hopefully, this version works better than the last.”

A cocky grin made its way to Lynn’s face. “It will.”

Harker stepped into the pool and collapsed into the chair. He pushed his sleeves up and submerged his hands in the alchemical solution. A brief reprieve from the pain let him focus on infusing the liquid with his mana, the magical energy flowing easily out of him.

He felt the liquid begin to move, flowing over his extremities. He turned his eye to Lynn, who had sealed her aiding stream. She still had her hand extended, now joined by its partner and a look of focus upon her face.

“The key to this working is her maintaining the flow of the mana-infused solution,” Martius spoke up as he studied the readout on his control pillar. “Sympathetic connection. My earlier thoughts given the vessel were off the mark… Ah, there we go. Feedback incoming.”

Several lights began to blink on the pillars and Martius read out their translation, “Wavelength reading at five above Albar Constant, cycling at three point seven RPM.”

“That’s,” Lynn said, her voice straining slightly, “the frequency of a Barrier, right?”

“Correct you are, Ms. Lynn,” Martius answered, excitement flowing through his words. “Which limits our search area to the whole of the Earth. And which makes our job easier since we can use the calibration beacons Mr. Harker left there to zero in on the true target.”

“Just find it,” Harker grunted through grit teeth. “I have no way of knowing how long this will be happening.”

“You can’t rush science,” Martius chided as he spun his dials. “And while this may be a stroke of good fortune, we never intended this sort of use. I designed this to function with methodological scans, sweeping defined areas. I’ve already bypassed and hotwired several circuits just to get this far.”

Harker’s pain flared once more, then faded away. He let out a relieved sigh, his breathing ragged while Martius cursed in his native tongue. The crystals began to dim as the gnome scholar worked to maintain the device. More curses left his lips as all the lights failed.

“We lost it,” he reported. “You two can stop. Nothing we can do at this point but review the information.”

Lynn let her arms fall to her side, taking a few deep breaths before addressing Harker, “You alright?”

“No,” the dour man responded. “Haven’t been for a while, but I manage.”

He **** himself out of the chair and trudged his way out of the pool. When he reached the rim, Lynn gestured a hand and the lingering liquid on his hands began to fly off his flesh and into the pool. A second later, the same process happened to his damp feet and ankles, leaving no evidence he had been in the pool.

He levelled a look at the alchemist and she shrugged. “That mix is pretty expensive, and complicated to make. It’s less of a pain to filter out any debris than it is to make more.”

Harker nodded, though a thoughtful frown creased his brow. “Won’t the solution lose its capacity to conduct mana over time?”

“Only a little bit,” Lynn replied. “Based on my calculations, there should be only a one to two percent decrease in mana conductance per hour. This run shouldn't even amount to half a percent decrease. Being synchronised with your mana reduces some of the degradation. ”

Her confidence radiated through her aura and Harker had no reason to doubt her. He calmly slipped on his shoes and retreated to the front chamber. For her part, Lynn accepted their conversation had ended and busied herself with cleaning her solution.

Harker reached one of the chairs near the fireplace and settled down into it. He took a shuddering breath as he drew in the last of his reserve, the rush of vital energy soothing away the lingering pain and fatigue. He didn’t need to withdraw the orb in his pocket to know it had gone completely dim.

He stared into the fire, his mind focusing on what he saw. It wasn’t the first time he had picked up on flashes of what his former apprentice was doing since she tried to kill him. Whenever she drew upon that cursed power, it filtered back to him. This time, whether it was the intensity of what she was doing or the device bridging the gap between them, he was given more than a few vague images and distorted emotions.

He saw her plunge the blade into a bound figure, flesh burning away into a tear of lurid red light. Beyond that rip in reality, he saw a split second of a ruined landscape, one of rotted fields lay before a walled city, the once white stone covered in grime. The snapshot left a feeling of wrongness, one far greater than his own repulsion effect.