Chapter 61

Arthyr.

I’d read about him with Elise. The hero of the Silent War. A human man who fought shoulder to shoulder with the gods themselves to defeat the Myrddin - horrors born of the Interstitium.

Some fifteen hundred years ago, the Myrddin came without warning and plunged the world into chaos. Countless mortals died in their wake. Dozens of gods were destroyed, and with each ****, reality itself warped and buckled.

When Caelith, the Devouring Flame, fell, fire ran wild across the world for a decade - cities reduced to ash by blazes that would not die. When Veythra, the Pale Matron, was slain, the moon birthed its children, and the tides went mad, dragging coastlines into the sea. When Serkhal, the Crystal Dawn, died, winter took the world in an iron grip that lasted for years. And when Solmir, the Guiding Hand, was struck down, the dead refused to rest and clawed their way back into the light.

There were few records from before the Silent War. Time and catastrophe had scoured nearly everything that came before it. Arthyr’s life prior to the war was a mystery - but what he did during it had become legend.

The Myrddin devoured everything they touched. They corrupted mortals, twisting them into weapons turned against their own families. They were a rolling tide of entropy, an unmaking given form, and they threatened to consume the entire world.

Then Arthyr appeared.

He stood against the horrors and didn’t break. He fought them to a standstill. He gathered armies, led them into battle. He rallied the gods themselves, and with their combined might, - step by bloody step - pushed the Myrddin back and brought them to the brink of victory.

The stories say he sacrificed himself to seal the rift in the Interstitium - trapping the Myrddin in their formless world for all eternity. He gave his life so the world could live.

It read like a classic myth - a larger than life hero facing an enemy just as large. His deeds echoed Beowulf and Perseus - names that belonged more to legend than history. And yet Yveth had spoken of Caelith’s **** as if she’d seen the aftermath with her own eyes.

Miralis’ reaction to his name all but confirmed it. She’d known him. Loved him. As had Yveth. My guess was that Arthyr’s **** was the source of the animosity between them - and perhaps the sorrow that defined Yveth herself.

My conversation with Miralis hadn’t given me many clean answers. It was never meant to. My questions weren’t designed to pry her secrets loose, but the banter had been deliberate - each word spoken with care. Even when she turned evasive, she let more slip than she realized.

And that told me what I wanted to know.

* * *

The next day, I made my way to Northgate. I was getting better at mapping my Faith-scape onto the real world. What had once been a full week of travel now took only a few hours.

I found Nanders at the University, right where I expected him to be. We talked at length. I returned the book I’d borrowed - having wrung everything useful out of it with Elise’s help - then let him run a few experiments on me. He was professional about it, curious in the way scholars get when they’re trying very hard not to look excited.

That evening, I stopped by Orrik’s place to check on Dur. The young dwarf nearly knocked me over when he opened the door, throwing his arms around me like in joyful surprise. Orrik invited me to stay for dinner, and we spent the meal laughing and talking while I regaled them with stories about the other kids. I promised we’d all get together properly soon. Seeing them settled, healthy, and happy was heartening.

I rented a room for the night at an inn just outside the main marketplace. In the morning, I headed to the Office of Public Contracts and Civic Commissions.

I took my time reading the listings. Now that I was cleared for up to D-rank work, my options had opened up. The F-rank board held the usual fare - herb gathering, sewer work, and a search for a merchant lost in the last snowfall. E-rank included a two-day bodyguard detail and a one-day escort job that seemed vaguely interesting. There was a single D-rank posting that required at least two people, involving rumors of some creature prowling a nearby village.

I took the escort job to the commissioner, got the details and my papers, and left a message for Jess in case she happened to drop by.

From there, I returned to the University and tracked down Professor Ricard - the man who’d posted the commission. He was an archaeologist of sorts, looking for a bit of protection while he investigated some nearby ruins. He gathered his equipment and we set out together.

Ricard was human, about five-nine and lean, the kind of build that suggested he walked more than he fought. I pegged him at around forty - old enough to be established, young enough to handle short expeditions without complaint. His shoulder-length hair was pale and just starting to gray, his face narrow and unremarkable, his light brown eyes thoughtful. He struck me as average and forgettable, but was pleasant enough.

We talked as we traveled. He told me about his work and I gave him an overview of my skill set. His specialty was early Arvellian history. The ruins we were heading toward had once been a keep guarding a tributary of the White River - the great river that ran along Northgate’s western shore. Giants had overrun the keep a few hundred years ago, and Ricard wanted answers.

His magical aptitude lay in Mortem and Oneiromancy. His hope was to find enough intact remains to summon the spirit of one of the keep’s guards and ask what had happened.

The trip across the farmland was quiet and passed quickly. The ruins lay along the shore of the Tolman River - mostly jagged foundations and broken walls, gnawed down by time. Ricard’s search uncovered the entrance to a basement, which also turned out to be the lair of a giant trapdoor spider nearly eight feet across.

Between his magic and a few decisive strikes from Adhaneth, the fight was mercifully brief.

The basement was strewn with bones, thanks in no small part to the spider’s eating habits. Most were animal, but a handful were large enough to be human, which Ricard confirmed with quiet respect. Deeper inside, we found tunnels and old storage rooms. In one of them lay a nearly intact skeleton - exactly what he’d been hoping for.

After clearing debris from the floor, Ricard drew a circle in chalk and filled it with careful symbols. He arranged the bones into a humanoid shape and spoke a few strange words. The chalk flared silver, bathing the room in cold light. Slowly, a translucent form settled over the remains, animating them.

The spirit appeared as a young man in his early twenties, clad in armor. His features were indistinct, flowing like smoke around the bones beneath. Ricard questioned him - about the battle, the giants, and fragments of ordinary life before the fall. The exchange lasted less than ten minutes, but by the end Ricard looked utterly spent.

After a brief rest, we made the return trip. I collected my pay - fifty gold coins - and headed back to the inn.

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, I made my way back to the Office of Public Contracts and Civic Commissions. I took a quick inventory of the available postings, then stepped outside and claimed a bench in the gardens out front.

It was bitterly cold - though I barely noticed. The wind sliced through my light tunic and pants, snapping the edges of my cloak as it gusted past. Snow had fallen overnight, laying a few fresh inches of white over the city. It was just past dawn, and the garden paths and benches had already been cleared - no ice, no frost, nothing to betray the cold but the air itself. The flowers still bloomed, their colors peeking through the snow as if some master artisan had brushed white paint across a finished canvas.

About half an hour later, a short bundle of coats and scarves waddled toward me, wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“Hey,” the bundle said. I could almost hear her teeth chattering as her breath puffed out in a cloud of steam.

“Hey, right back,” I replied. “Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

She nodded, arms crossed tight around herself beneath the blanket. “Aren’t you freezing?” she asked.

“I live in the mountains,” I said with a grin. “This is practically spring.”

It was a lie - and not a very good one - but I wasn’t ready to explain the truth.

We walked a short distance before ducking into an inn and claiming a table near a roaring fire. Jess stood in front of the flames for a moment, soaking in the heat, before peeling off the blanket and two of her coats. She kept a third on, clearly unwilling to trust the warmth just yet.

Her nose was red from the cold, her dappled cheeks flushed brighter than usual. Blonde hair was tucked beneath a thick wool hat, and she kept her long knitted scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

I ordered hot tea and a pastry for each of us.

“How have you been?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Trying not to freeze. You?”

I smiled. “Things have been… interesting. That’s pretty normal for me, though.” I chuckled. There was a pause. “Got any plans today?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Too cold to pick up a ‘mission.”

I gave her a slight nodd. “I wanted to talk,” I said, keeping my expression neutral. “Somewhere more private. How do you feel about going to the Grand Archive? Assuming it’s not too cold a walk for you.”

She gave me a puzzled look, but nodded.

We finished our tea and pastry, bundled her back up, and headed out. The conversation stayed light as we walked.

“So where’s Ashlara?” Jess asked.

“She’s at home with the kids,” I said.

“WHAT?” she shouted. “You guys are married?”

I laughed. A lot. So hard that I had to stop walking. It took a solid minute to get my breathing under control. “We’re not married,” I managed, stifling another fit of laughter. “You do know marriage isn’t required to have kids, right?”

She flushed beneath her scarf and looked away. “Of course I know that!” she snapped. “I just - I didn’t expect you two to… I mean, you didn’t act like a-”

“We weren’t, at the time,” I explained.

“Then how do you have kids?” She glanced at me in confusion, then quickly looked away again.

“It’s complicated,” I said with a grin. “We adopted a bunch of kids who needed help. You should meet them - they’re great. Mirri and Serah too.”

“How many kids do you have?” she asked.

“Seven.”

Her eyes went wide. “You took in seven kids? And you’re working E-rank commissions? How do you even feed them all?”

“It hasn’t been easy,” I admitted. “We had some bad luck - lost a lot of money and supplies. That’s part of why I’m back.” I looked at her more seriously. “But mostly, I wanted to talk to you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Me? You barely know me.”

“True,” I said. “But I think I’ve got a decent read on the kind of person you are. And I might have a job for you - if you’re interested.”

“What kind of job?” she asked.

“The kind we’ll discuss at the Archive,” I replied, offering her a sly smile.