The Siege of Ultopja 16 – Family Reunion Part 1 [Anjar]

‘There it is.’ Anjar thinks as she picks up a small package. She had been walking along the mountain edge, searching for a marker of some description. The deal she made to get into the city told her only that the caves will be the entrance. Now that she needs them she is sure her employer has prepared something for her. She was right.

She folds open the package, a mirror and a letter are revealed. She looks at the mirror first. It is a small, rectangle shaped thing with a silver frame which the ages have tinged completely. Nevertheless, the mirror itself is unblemished, smooth. She puts it away with great care, unwilling to look into it. She knows what this artefact is. Now reading the letter Anjar only finds a few words written there.

‘Everything is in place.’

She smiles, “Guess so.” Before tearing the paper apart and scattering it into the winds. Then she enters the cave. It is deep. It has to be. After all it is supposed to lead her all the way to the city. Anjar is still not fully sure what he is getting from this whole deal of killing that Demonmagus. Demons are treacherous but killing each other? ‘Oh well, not my problem.’ She shrugs it off to deal with it later, she had a city to infiltrate first.

The tunnels air gets more humid with each step she takes deeper into the mountain. The Wekgrond honours it spongey reputation and Anjar would have been lost in the winding darkness if it wouldn’t have been for the markers somebody carved into the wall. As long as she takes each step with care and keeps her hand steady she will eventually see light again.

A final, soft curve that stretched over several tens of metres and she sees it. Light. Not the expected kind however. She sees the magical aura of a person. As an awakened Alteration mage, her gift is to see the way magic moves within a person much like Transmutation practisers see it in the world. A glow of different colours and lights of shifting intensity that overlays on her normal vision.

There was a guard here, standing next to numerous weird formations. Surprising but not a problem. Anjar just walks right up to him and taps him on the shoulder. “Hey!” She greets and makes her Alteration do the work for her. She can barely see the guards face in the flickering light of a distant torch but she sees the trust her Alteration is forcing upon him in the shifting lights.

“Greetings.” The man returns, “How can I help you?” “Would you kindly tell me what you are doing here?” “Protecting the mushrooms.” Anjar raises an eyebrow before looking over to the weird formations. ‘Wooden boxes, they are growing mushrooms here. This siege will never end as long as they have a source of food.’ The Ushyen woman realizes and scratches her chin. She raises her hand towards the entrance of this side. A perfectly round hole in the wall, clearly the sign of transmutation. ‘Would I even have been able to enter without it?’ She asks herself, ‘I wonder how that trickster pulled this stunt.’

With no one to ask however she has to just go on. “I will be on my way. Be a sweaty and forget this ever happened.” Anjar muses as she walks towards the round exit. “Wait!” ‘Oh?’ Anjar is surprised people rarely resist her. Or are able to. She turns back to the guard and her worries instantly dissipate, she can still see the trust. “Do you have your badge with you?” “My…badge?” She hesitates, “The citizen badge, without you will get into trouble.” He unpinned something from his chest and threw it over to her.

Anjar barely managed to catch the thing. It was small, golden and was shaped like three eyes, two at the button phasing into a third one slightly higher. “Thanks, wish you a nice day.” Anjar says and nonchalantly destroys the man’s memories of the event. With people that weak of will it was an easy task.

Finally she sat foot into the city. With the white marble and runic decorations everywhere, the standardized street design, the lanterns and the look of everything just flowing together like one big unit she had to admit that it was the third most beautiful city she ever had been, right after Falkirk, Estara’s capital and a certain ruin that still radiated glory.

She pinned the badge to her chest and started walking. It didn’t take two guesses to figure out that the Demonmagus resided within that tower. Somebody who plastered his symbol all over the city and on everyone’s chest was unlikely to locate himself anywhere but the highest point. ‘With that level of megalomaniac, he really is like my brother.’ She giggled as she walked through the busy streets.

People in robes, green, blue and red, stormed through the city even at this hour. The pale moon above didn’t spend enough light to justify such activity but then again, the magical lights everywhere took care of that problem. Nobody even looked at her. They apparently didn’t think weirdly of a woman in full leather armour, a dagger and a small bag on her hips.

Therefore, she ,ales the whole walk unbothered by anyone. The only people that looked at her with some suspicion where the guards in front of the tower, but even they let her pass with some Alteration. The only people she takes care of are the giants in glass armour. Their thoughts were slightly veiled from her view, which indicates some enchantments in the way. Nothing she can’t take care of but why go the extra mile.

The search for the stairs is actually easy. The building is designed in a way that intuitively allows her to find the right path. The architect must have guessed that anybody who gets this far wouldn’t be hindered by some labyrinth. Anjar stretches a bit as she steps on the stairs. ‘This whole job is pretty relaxed all things considered.’ She thinks.

Then she yelps in surprise and falls over in a very inelegant way as the stairs under her suddenly start moving. “What in Zephyra’s name?” She wonders as she rubs her butt, pained from the impact. She stands up and eyes the stairs with annoyance. “It saves time but a warning would have been nice.” She mumbles and steps of when they stop moving at the top.

The darkness of the room is battled by the light of the city below, resulting in a twilight that Anjar can barely see through with her human sight. She sees a large room, largely empty safe for a long desk and a throne. Two more doors lead to other rooms she would love to look into but first she had to finish what she came for. A pulsation of light went through the room as magic pumped through the lines of runes, allowing Anjar to realize that a person sits on the throne.

She sneaks closer, her steps make no noise, unsheathes her dagger. The black, primitive looking weapon is something that she found on her travels and she has killed demons with it before. He would have wanted her to use the mirror, Anjar realizes, but without certain orders she could fuck over that demon on his terms.

Now she is near enough, the Demonmagus looks asleep, his face shrouded in darkness, slumped over. There is no better time to strike, the brown skin of his neck peeking out between armour and his light grey hair is the perfect target. She brings the weapon down with all the might she can muster. The tip of the dagger almost touches his skin before a wall of ice suddenly envelopes her weapon, slowing the assault and eliminating the lethality of the attack. All the Demonmagus feels ramming against his neck is a sudden coldness.

With an annoyed grunt he turns his head, ready to curse at whoever is annoying him. A new pulse of magic lights up the room. The siblings stare at each other. “Uklag?”