Orphan At The Edge Of The World 96 Crystal Cage 34

"We are about to go through the slums here to get where you need to go. If it's nighttime when, IF, you leave Construct One, don't walk to the transporter or get an inn room there. The only kind of places that will open their doors to you at nighttime in Indigo are places you don't want to be and only high range Chosen have any safety on its streets after sundown."

When Orison heard slums, what he imagined wasn't even close to the reality. It wasn't that there was a lack of depravity and desperation. It was the clean and orderly way that it was presented.

Unable to hold his curiosity, Orison asked the mature and dependable looking Draconos, "Who funds the homeless shelter? It actually looks nicer than some of the houses around here."

Arazmus said, "Everyone, the Guild of Flesh and whatever group's on top of the grime in this city mostly. It's not kindness, it's need."

The young mage began to understand. Much like the case with Thoth, there was a natural welling of the essence used most by the trainer in its location. Where Thoth's spiritual essence was exploited for the magic convenience item industry, Indigo's was exploited for cheap, renewable labor. The vast amount of undead used for industrial purposes created an invisible smog of necromantic energy that permeated the slums. Each un.o.bserved death added to their issues. Orison didn't envy the reinstated royal family's inevitable struggle to deal with it.

Interrupted from his thoughts by a notification message, Orison opened it. Noting early on how Osomo's urgent request board could help him discover all kinds of things, Orison had set his notification alert to bring up nearby urgent requests as a way of pa.s.sively scanning for exploitation. In this case, it was a handful of requests for aid from the First Family that became active when the person making them became a royal.

It wasn't funny to the young mage that the requests were worded as prayers. It was heart breaking. At first, he thought it was a local issue but that was quickly dispelled by the identification of the persons in question being a Dracanos and whatever the Nunos family considered themselves to be. As much as he wanted to avoid delays and drama, it was just too much for him to ignore after having read a few of the messages.

Stopping Arazmus, Orison pointed at the large and beautiful building at the end of a colorful street marked off from the rest of the slum by a three city block warded wall. "What do you know about that place?"

Arazmus cracked a knowing grin. "A 10,000 gold members.h.i.+p and 1,000 gold per visit will tell you everything you need to know. When I was younger and dumb, I spent nearly all of my inheritance to get that members.h.i.+p. I thought to use it as a way to get in good with the rich and powerful but I found out quick that no one is interested in making friends there.

"I'll admit to satisfying some curiosity about their services once or twice before I wised up. That was years ago, though. You wouldn't catch me dead in a place like that these days. There's just too much stink underneath all the perfume and wine. That, and it's too d.a.m.n expensive. Why, looking to make a pleasant memory in the most expensive pleasure house in all of Osomo before marching to your doom?"

Orison sent a secret message to Ivan for some advice and to let him know about the other resident currently residing in the Hidden Pearl estate, headquarters of the Guild of Flesh.

While he waited for the startled Nunos man to respond, Orison said, "Here in just a moment, you're going to need to do something really important. I'm just waiting on finding out the best way to do it."

Speaking quickly, Ivan said, "It's really more a favor for me. Sorry for the trouble but do you think you could escort me back to the transporter?"

With an aggrieved sigh, Arazmus consented and said, "I know things can spring up on you but I have things I'd like to get done today as well. Go into the first gambling hall on the right. Pay for a drink and play a few games. Whatever you do, don't leave until I get back and if a high range Chosen wants you to kiss their a**, pucker and stall for time."

As Ivan pa.s.sed Orison, he asked in a whisper, "What are their names?"

Orison swallowed a little bile as he said, "Sweetness Ward and Little Stag Nunos."

Trying to keep his imagination occupied on safer subjects, Orison immediately went to the bar past the entry fee collector and bought a low alcohol beverage, paying for Rose out of a polite habit from another life. When Gan went for the hard stuff, Orison reminded him what they would be doing later. As they sat, patiently waiting for their companions' return a couple of unlucky games later, the young mage saw a familiar face.

An athletic Draconos woman in dragon lancer gear approached Orison with a hovering human man in healer's garb trailing behind. "If it isn't the little calamity slayer. Must have been one mountain of a miracle for you to pull that off."

With nothing better to do and Gan having found himself a game of cards to join, Orison indulged in friendly banter with the two while he waited. He excused himself for a moment when a message popped up requesting him to reenact the trick that saved Ivan. Not thinking much of it, and with Ivan and Arazmus by the transporter where the two captive royals should appear, Orison constructed two beacon models.

After casting them, Orison thought better of it and cast a third. With everything that had happened, he figured it would be better to be safe than sorry and wait at the transporter til the captives arrived. With a quick parting word to his conversation partners and Gan, Orison released the third model that would take him to the transporter.

What happened at that moment was a mess only his sub-mind could process. As he was releasing the model, a man behind him had yelled something about killing his father with emotion that seemed hollow and forced. With a better viewpoint, the dragon lancer lady attempted to keep Orison from being hit by extending a weird s.p.a.ce bending ability that he had seen once before. Seeing that she wasn't going to make it in time, the healer that was with her used some kind of Osomo a.s.sisted ability which sped his personal time up immensely as he hit Orison with an additional unknown high powered ability.

Two different s.p.a.cial abilities and two magics of opposing essence didn't mesh well. Chances were good that Osomo would have auto corrected the situation if it wasn't for Orison's usage being outside its parameters. All that really meant was that the young mage hadn't been sent to the transporter in front of him, he was sent to the one a bit farther behind him, deep in the bowels of Construct One. And while whatever the healer did protected Orison's body from any harm, his gear was shredded to confetti.

Whatever the unknown a.s.sailant had used, carried a ridiculously strong entropy effect. The brief battle between the healer's power and the attacker may have canceled out but they had done so within Orison. He had no way of telling how long he had been senseless but thankfully he hadn't been in any immediate peril or he still would have died.

As he struggled to sit up, a stranger with dark green hair backed away with his hands up in a comically similar way to surrendering. Behind him was an ebony skinned elf that would have been like a swan among ducks if compared to any obsidian elf the young mage had met in another world. Both were dressed in a manner that could only be considered as obscene. The clothing's presence only serving to accentuate what very much wasn't left to the imagination, an absurd parody of what purpose clothing was meant to serve.

Since they weren't hostile, orison focused on trying to message his companions only to discover that his connection to Osomo was currently s.h.i.+elded against entirely. With a sinking feeling, Orison immediately understood that meant he wasn't going to be using any cheats to get out of whatever situation he had found himself in. Fortunately, the s.h.i.+elding factor didn't have any effect on his personal abilities or access to his s.p.a.ce.

Seeing that his hunter set of equipment was ruined beyond mend's ability to repair, Orison pulled out the set of equipment he'd gotten from the tower. He'd fixed it days ago but for the very reason that he was forced to use it now, he'd continued using the set he'd gotten from Herne. Considering how they were dressed, Orison didn't bother with false modesty and quickly changed.

As he explored his new environment, Orison said, "Little Stag, I presume? You look a bit older than I thought you would. By that, I mean an adult."

The man sighed. "In human years, I'm almost old enough to be your father, I think. By my people's standards I guess I could be considered to be one. Orison, I presume? Just Stag, if it suits. The 'little' part feels like nothing but mockery anymore."

The young mage nodded, "Figured out much about what we're going to be dealing with past those doors over there?"

Stag shook his head as the elf girl said, "There is darkness and danger beyond those doors. You may survive for a time but we would surely die as we are."

As he rummaged through a meager selection, Orison said, "Yeah, I have a hard time seeing you survive a cool breeze at the moment. I got two sets of gear here I wouldn't wear to a beach much less a battle but they're yours. Osomo has some strange aesthetics."

Letting them decide between themselves who got to wear what, Orison took a peek beyond the doors to see a pit filled with mostly unmoving bodies and ominous shadows flitting about. Closing the cracked door, Orison took a calming breath and turned around. Despite the situation, he had a desire to see what the absurd outfits looked like on real people.

The girl almost look surreal in an all white pair of skin tight shorts and tank top. What Orison a.s.sumed was supposed to be a robe, looked more like an over-sized short sleeve b.u.t.ton-up with a hood. In a way he couldn't quite explain, the girl looked pure and lewd at the same time.

Stag's outfit was loud but it didn't end up looking as bad as the young mage thought it would. The leopard print half-wrap added a touch of decency to what looked like leather compression shorts with a bit of lacing at the top. With the sleeveless vest and bandanna that matched the wrap, Stag looked like a person going to a spring break rock concert. They both did.

Orison sighed. "It doesn't look like it'll actually do much protecting but the enchantments are decent."

Stag said, "These are named set gears. They're a lot better than you seem to think. I'm curious, not that I'm trying to be greedy or anything, but do you have a pair of weighted gloves? Iliyani's set should have a hat and staff too, I think.

Orison handed the requested items over and said, "That witch's hat might have a few nice enchantments but she's going to lose it in no time. The staff doesn't look like it could take too many bangs before the top would break off, either... Not to sound judgmental but why would you even want to wear those gloves? I would think that someone would rather use their hands than hit with padding, even if it is a little heavier."

Stag looked at him dubiously. "I would think this an impossibility but how could you not know about named sets? In this strange place they may not be that helpful but everywhere else, these gloves would make my fists. .h.i.t like a hammer. Even in here, that hat would stay on her head unless it's severely damaged or she wants to take it off... One of the reasons there are so few sixth degree or higher Chosen is because getting one of these sets is a condition and once they've been worn, they're only good for that person."

Iliyani said, "Because of this gift, I will go to Auma and take up the healer training. Once I have done enough, I can use this set to become a white witch at fourth degree and reach sixth with no major obstacles."

Trying to cover his ignorance a little belatedly, Orison said, "It's not so much that I didn't know any of that, I just don't really like the trainers and I didn't really think about it. I didn't really expect that you'd be that knowledgeable."

Stag said, "We weren't house raised. If we survive, I'll thank you for making it so that our possible future children won't be either."

Orison said, "No offense intended. While we're on the subject of what you know, though... Are there any skills or abilities you have that you're able to use in here?"

Iliyan said, "I was on my way to the first training after being chosen when I was... tricked. I don't know any skills but my racial inheritance is being able to hide inside a shadow. I'm not that strong so I can't do it for long. It's how I followed Stag through your invitation. I was fortunate for my cleaning cage to be next to his."

With a numb, practiced apathy, Stag said, "The outer family is little more than a breeder program for the main family and I wasn't Chosen. When the matriarch found out I was her dead husband's b*****d, I was sent to that place. When I woke up over a month ago as a royal, I now know why. I should thank my father for choosing good breeding stock or I'd have had my throat slit instead.

"Sorry, you wanted to know what I could do, not my sob story... If I push really hard, I can knock people out if they're not that strong. It wears me out pretty quick but I can make people...nice to me. It wears off after a couple of days if I don't keep doing it and people can build up a resistance if I do it to them too much. That's about it."

Doing some quick thinking, Orison remembered the crystal pellet and portable trainer that had been buried inside his five colored dirt. He couldn't remember Pelenel forbidding him from sharing what had been given and it was grim circ.u.mstances. He highly doubted the dead lady would overly mind Orison sharing her models. He'd like to think that she'd be happy to have a young woman carry on her artistic legacy.

With another mental thanksgiving to the mustard seed bracelet, the young mage took the trainer out. "Alright, I have something here that'll at least give you something to work with... I have difficulty saying names with parts that sound like two letters at the same time. Is it alright to call you Annie?"

She nodded with a weak smile.

Orison gave her a rea.s.suring one in return and continued, "This portion will teach you three specialized models and a good deal of theory on how they work. Together they'll make you kind of a summoner and artificer blend but every bit of it is Osomo independent. The down side is that you'll only be able to learn one more combat training. If it's healer, then your professions are going to be reduced to one as well but.."

As she took the trainer and focused on the part Orison pointed out, she said, "There is nothing to consider. Thank you."

Once she was done absorbing the information, she sat down dizzily and started trying to sort it all out.

Taking the trainer from her loose hands, Orison turned to Stag next. "This part teaches how to control and develop your spiritual bloodline. It was tailored for me but I think I can fill in the blanks where wild and tribal fey differ. Like me, you sort of muddled your way through setting up a natural cycle but it's a hot mess. Before you start adjusting it, let me help. I won't get too involved. I just want to make sure you don't blow out a kidney or something... It was just a joke but you really do need a little help adjusting."

After a small amount of hesitation, Stag consented. Once the Nunos man started the process of exploring what he'd just learned, Orison ran what healing he could through damaged channels. Letting his sub-mind take over the involved and delicate parts, the young mage began verbally guiding Annie through initial meditation and visual work.

A handful of agonizing hours later, Orison switched up as he used his sub-mind to help Annie guide and shape her summons. While he explained the finer details of Stag's training, he pointed out the subtle but important differences between wild and tribal fey lineage. From there on, it would be up to Stag what was right for him.

The rolling delay was eating up Orison with anxiety but rus.h.i.+ng into the unknown unprepared wasn't an option. Taking a breather, Orison well wished Gan and hoped for the best before returning to spot guidance and demonstration. Once it looked like they had the hang of it, Orison let them take a rest while he kept an eye on things.

Exhausted and mentally fatigued, Orison broke out leftovers from Pelenel's prepared meals to share with his 'students' before slipping into trance himself. While he was out, his sub-mind would occasionally peek in on things to find the two taking turns resting and quietly practicing a little more. It wasn't until boredom or nerves got the best of them and they started whispering to each other that his sub-mind stirred itself into a more active state.