Blessed Time: The Complete Series: (A LitRPG Adventure Box Set), page 15
“No one said anything about this.” Micah’s forehead furrowed as he followed his irritable mentor into the store.
“I just said it now.” Brenden didn’t even bother to look back as he swept through the store before stopping in front of a display of robes and travel packs. “Consider yourself both in the loop and informed. Now get over here so we can get you fitted for your travel apparel. I don’t want anyone to accuse me of breaching my contract with the Golden Drakes because you showed up to the capital without appropriate equipment.”
Brenden snapped his fingers above his head, drawing a series of frowns from other shoppers, but summoning an attendant that hurried over. She was young, pretty, athletic, and wearing a skirt that was cut mere inches from immodesty. Obviously, her employer had hoped that adventurers would spend more time looking at her than the prices of the wares they were purchasing.
Loneliness washed over Micah as his memory flashed back to his previous life with Jo. She’d been a little too wild for him, prone to dragging him away at midnight to sneak into a temple for a tryst or an active dungeon for a date. Jo was a consummate adrenaline junkie, but in that timeline, only near the end did he grow out of being a shy librarian’s assistant.
Things never would have worked between them. She wanted more excitement and adventure than the Micah of that timeline could provide, but when things were good, they’d been almost perfect. There was just something pure about fighting monsters all day before returning to camp and giggling at dumb inside jokes while the moon filled the sky.
Even after Jo had suggested that they break up, he’d held those memories close. She was right—once the infatuation of the early relationship had worn off, it became harder and harder to keep up with her. Micah had liked spending time with Jo, but the idea of climbing a cliff at midnight just to dangle their feet off the edge started to seem less “romantic” and more like a dangerous chore that would leave him exhausted the next day.
After the breakup they’d remained friends. At first, Micah had been hurt and remained fairly quiet to avoid starting drama in the party, but eventually, he’d realized that it was for the best. Although there was an unmistakable chemistry between Jo and him, they’d just met at the wrong time. He had neither the energy nor the maturity to keep up with the woman. Then again, neither did the slew of men she’d dated after him.
His stomach dropped. Knowing it was for the best didn’t change how he felt. The fact that Jo could date who she wanted didn’t make it any easier to see her laughing with someone else.
He took a deep breath, the air shuddering in his throat. Brenden glanced at him and promptly dismissed Micah’s concerns as beneath his notice.
By the time he’d reset the timeline, they’d settled back into being friends once again. Their relationship never became physical after the breakup, but Jo had become a confidante. They’d shared their fears, concerns, and plans under the starlight, and things between them had been almost like before. There’d been no one on the team that he trusted more than Jo. He knew that if need be, they’d have died for each other.
Micah sighed, forcing his hands to unclench. She had. A lot of people had.
Brenden sniffed at the attendant dismissively, drawing Micah’s attention back to reality.
She blushed before speaking hesitantly. “Welcome to Haarvash’s Emporium, kind sirs.” Her voice trembled slightly as her gaze fixed itself to the Golden Drakes badge on Brenden’s collar. “My name is Miranda. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of assistance.”
“My ward”—Brenden nodded toward Micah, not even bothering to look at him—“needs travel clothing. I don’t know the first thing about fashion or attire in this area, but he can’t be an embarrassment to me. Outfit him with travel apparel and a pack full of clothing and bring him back to me.”
“You do know that my father is a tailor, Mr. Thrakos?” Micah asked, not really expecting Brenden to acknowledge him. “If all we needed was to get me fitted for clothing, we could have just visited him.”
“Enough, Mr. Silver,” Brenden said, cutting him off. “It’s unacceptable for my ward to be clad in provincial hand-me-downs. If we’re forced to acquire your attire here, I’ll be damned if you’re clothed in anything less than the best that Basil’s Cove has to offer.”
“Silver?” Miranda’s eyes brightened as she looked at Micah once again. “As in Jon Silver? We carry his work here. His embroidery is to die for.”
“Whatever.” Brenden rolled his eyes and turned away from the both of them. “So long as he doesn’t end up looking like a farmer in an ill-fitting suit. I know I’m not giving you that much to work with, but do your best.”
The door chimed, causing Micah to look up. His breath seized in his throat as he saw Sarah and Jo Redflower walk into the shop. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, laughing at some joke from her sister as she brushed some hair from her face.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Miranda chuckled as she approached Micah with a tape measure. “Both of them come in here shopping at least once a week. I can introduce you, if you’d like.”
“I just feel like I know them.” Micah smiled weakly. “But it can’t be real. Like they’re from a dream or something.”
“Miranda!” Jo shouted, waving to flag the attendant down as she power-walked over. “Did you get any of the new scabbards in? I need something that will accent that armor I bought last month.”
Brenden stepped in front of her, frowning with his arms crossed. Jo stopped short, barely avoiding plowing into his chest.
“Your friend is occupied, young lady.” Brenden scowled down at her. “She’s currently helping outfit my ward. You can gossip with her once she’s finished with her work. Until then, amuse yourself elsewhere.”
Jo opened her mouth to say something, only for Miranda to shake her head. Micah did his best to avoid eye contact. Even without Brenden’s arrogance, he didn’t feel ready to see Jo again.
His emotions swirled as she glared at the both of them. Her gaze focused on the insignia on Brenden’s shoulder, transforming her mouth into a thin line. Her eyes flashed as she shifted her attention to Micah and Miranda.
“Fine,” Jo replied, turning back to Sarah. “If they give you any trouble, Miranda, just let me know. Not everyone is afraid to stand up to the Drakes.”
“Your friend is safe,” Brenden snorted. “Don’t overvalue yourself. I’d take her if I wanted, and there’s nothing you could do about it. It just isn’t worth sullying my reputation on a dalliance with a provincial trollop.”
Jo turned red, her mouth opening to issue an ill-advised response. Sarah grabbed her sister’s wrist, interrupting her and shaking her head. Brenden smirked and walked away, clearly dismissing the two of them.
“Sorry about that, Miranda.” Micah smiled weakly at her. “It’s probably for the best if we get to shopping. The sooner we buy what we need and get out of here, the lower the chance that someone aggravates Brenden enough to make him lash out.”
The actual shopping was fairly quick. Miranda efficiently took his measurements, periodically slipping him sympathetic looks. Afterward, she brought a selection of outfits for him to peruse. Micah was hardly a talent on his father’s level, but he knew a fair amount about the proper cuts and stitching of fabric. Between Miranda and him, they were able to put together a full ensemble of clothing and travel garb that would hopefully stand up to the capital’s scrutiny.
Brenden barely looked at it before escorting Miranda to the front desk to make the purchase. Micah stood awkwardly, his hands stuffed in his pocket, waiting for the entire transaction to be completed. A woman cleared her throat behind him, prompting him to turn and see Sarah standing next to Jo.
“Excuse me,” Sarah said, an uncharacteristic smile on her face. Jo scowled at him.
“Uh, yes?” Micah responded.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you appear to be a member of the Golden Drakes.” Sarah extended her hand, a far cry from her usually judgmental and sarcastic self. “My name is Sarah Redflower and this is my sister, Josephine Redflower.”
“Micah Silver.” He took her hand; Sarah’s calluses from constant combat contrasted with his own soft digits. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”
“Why were you harassing Miranda?” Jo jumped in suspiciously. “Even if you are rich, you can’t just bother a girl like that. It’s not like she’s a piece of property that you can go out and purchase. She’s her own person with rights.”
“Silver!” Brenden shouted impatiently as he walked toward the door. “Quit flirting with your girlfriends; we need to get moving if you’re going to catch your carriage.”
He smiled weakly at both of them. Melancholy swept over him as he realized that in this timeline, he’d probably never see either of them again. As much as he wasn’t ready to see them again, he wasn’t nearly ready to let them go. There was so much he hadn’t processed, so much he hadn’t said, but there was nothing for it. The hands of fate were pulling them apart with a force that couldn’t be denied.
“Goodbye,” he said sadly, smiling slightly. “It was nice to meet you. I feel in a different life, we could have been friends.”
TWENTY-ONE
THE CAPITAL
Bitollan, City of Lights and Spires, was as majestic as its name sounded. Even at night, magelights of a dozen colors illuminated the soaring buttresses of the city’s towers. Micah tried to enjoy their splendor as he rode the carriage in, but his excitement was tempered by the knowledge that he was missing the battle for Basil’s Cove at that very moment.
Deep down, Micah knew that it was all worth it. As much as he wanted to be on the front lines, elbow-deep in combat and risking his life side by side with his former friends, he didn’t have any real basis for that desire. Still, he couldn’t help but compare himself to the nobles and Golden Drakes members that had fled Basil’s Cove in his previous timeline. The fact that he had sacrificed everything to keep his family safe didn’t make him feel like any less of a coward.
He jolted slightly as the carriage rolled over a rut in the road. Micah sighed and closed the window. He’d have plenty of time to gawk at Bitollan later. For now, he just needed to focus on the advanced ritual book Brenden had given him when they’d parted. He’d been reading it for most of the weeklong journey, and by this point, Micah was convinced that the book was on the Church of Luxos’ “burn on sight” list.
Where most of the books on rituals he’d been introduced to up until now walked a fine line of acceptability, this one focused entirely on the transfer of anima. True, every ritual or enchantment needed anima, the life force behind a living being, to power it. Up until now, the portions of the rituals related to anima had been fairly perfunctory. The caster sacrificed an animal, presumably and hopefully livestock or a monster, and its life force was added to the ritual.
This book, On Life and Energy by Karin Dakkora, was decidedly more in-depth. Micah’s inner bookworm found the ruminations on the nature of the soul fascinating, but the appendices to the book were concerning. Where normally a book on theory would simply opine and try to make sense of observations, On Life contained descriptions of detailed experiments. Ones that involved captives being used as batteries until everything vital was drained from them, leaving the victims as little more than empty, drooling husks.
The fundamental point of the book was that ritual and primal magic could feed upon anima to empower them. More than half the book was devoted to finding ways to improve on the drawing and transference of anima as part of ritual casting. The author was disdainful of most recorded spells and rituals, decrying them as the safe dabbling of the mediocre. Micah did agree that rituals spelled out in the last third of the book by Karin were much more exciting, but in the “these might rip a hole in reality” sense rather than anything he was eager to try.
Frowning, he pulled out the Ageless Folio and searched for Karin Dakkora’s name. Thanks to the magic of the Folio, he found her almost immediately. One of Keeper Ansom’s records had detailed a noble party of heroes defeating a dark archwizard that swore loyalty to no god.
Apparently, her collection of summoned daemons had raided nearby cities indiscriminately, and all of the Sixteen had joined together to request that their greatest champions rid Karell of her plague. The record went on for pages about how her fell powers spat in the face of the natural order and threatened the entirety of Karell with some sort of unknown incursion from “the outside.” It didn’t detail what “the outside” was, but Micah got the distinct impression that it wasn’t a friendly or happy place.
He closed the book with a sigh and dismissed the Folio. On Life was almost certainly a banned book. He wasn’t entirely sure why Brenden had insisted that he study it, but his time with the Golden Drakes had taught him that asking that sort of question was frowned upon. Hopefully, someone in the capital would be more willing to shed light on the situation.
Micah closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep. Bitollan was still miles away. As striking as the city was at night, there’d be plenty of time to gawk at its sights and get answers tomorrow.
At first, sleep eluded him, the occasional ruts jolting him to wakefulness, but before long, he slipped off into a dreamless slumber. Occasionally, he’d return to wakefulness as the carriage rumbled over rocks and ruts in the road, leading to a rather fitful slumber.
He awoke to a callused hand shaking his shoulder. Micah sat up, blinking against the harsh white magelights that illuminated the coach driver in the carriage’s open door.
“Come now, milord,” the man spoke with a thick country drawl. “Let’s get you inside and into a comfier bed so I can unhitch the horses.”
“Milord?” Micah cocked his head at the man. “My father was a tailor. Last I checked, I was fairly far from being nobility.”
“Whatever you say, milord,” the driver responded with a chuckle, climbing out of the coach to give Micah access to the doorway. “I’m a forgotten, so even having a trade smells a bit like nobility to me.”
“Plus,” the driver continued, “if I’m dropping you off at the right place, I’m definitely calling you milord on account that I don’t wanna get beaten by a palace guard for disrespect.” The man jerked his head, indicating the twisting marble towers behind him that glowed in the magelight.
Micah stepped out of the carriage, craning his neck to take in the massive building. Absently, he noted that his jaw was slack, but he couldn’t help himself. Mammoth walls of smooth stone surrounded the building, their gem-inlaid runes practically humming with energy. The building itself looked like an artist’s rendition of a castle, only stretched to twice its normal height.
Internally, Micah balked. No building of stone could be that thin and that high. Even though he knew that magic was being used to lighten and strengthen the stones, part of him recoiled, expecting the towers to collapse under their own weight at any moment.
“That was my reaction the first time I saw it too, milord.” The driver removed Micah’s luggage from the rear storage shelf on the carriage. “Course, I grew up on a farm. Most magic we saw was the local lord’s elementalists, cleanin’ out the kobolds before they could run off with that year’s harvest. Here in the capital, there’s magic on every street corner. Hells, the buildings themselves are practically works of art.”
“Where—?” Micah tried to recollect his thoughts. “What is this? I was just supposed to be transferred from the Basil’s Cove Golden Drakes’ branch office to headquarters in Bitollan.”
“This here’s the Royal Knights’ headquarters.” The coach driver set down Micah’s luggage next to him with a dull thud before holding his hand out slightly expectantly. “Far as I can tell, it’s mostly administration, training, and research here. Field soldiers are housed a good grip away.”
“As for the Golden Drakes?” The man shrugged indifferently. “They have connections to the royal family; everyone knows that. I don’t know why I was directed to bring you here, but I know you’re expected. They’d have impounded my carriage the minute I drove it into the Royal District if you weren’t.”
“Milord.” The driver coughed slightly, glancing down at his empty hand. “The Golden Drakes settled up your bill, but it’s been a hard couple of winters. The tab itself barely pays for what I owe on the carriage. If you’d be so kind as to spare some attunement, I’ve got three little ones and a fourth on the way.”
“Oh.” Micah shook his head, trying to clear the fog of drowsiness and wonder. “Of course. What kind of attunement would you prefer?”
“Sun would be great, milord.” The coachman beamed at Micah, displaying a pair of missing teeth. “Name’s Gheblan, milord, but my friends call me Gheb. You look like you’re in a bit over your head, so I thought I’d throw a little advice your way. Folks like me? We try and stay away from the rich and powerful sort. Sometimes things work out like in the fairy tales for the little ones, but more often than not, we step on toes we shouldn’t step on and hurt feelings that can’t be hurt.
“Not to say you’re clumsy, mind you.” Gheb frantically waved his hand. “No, the rich just have their own way of doing things. It’s too easy to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and pfff… You’re gone.” Gheb waggled his fingers, a serious note in his eyes. “Happened to my cousin Reggie. He saved a count’s prized horse from having to be put down after it threw a shoe. Count brought him out to his estate. Had a feast in his honor and everything. Then Reggie had a couple too many drinks and complimented the wrong young lady. Count’s son killed him in front of everyone to win back her honor. At his own feast.”
