“Fragments of Myndiri ‘Star Crystals’ were found to be part of an intricate arcane system that could, in theory, sustain ancient Myndiri facilities almost indefinitely. In many ways they function almost in parallel to what outworlders call a ‘dungeon core’. Especially with how their latent mana reservoirs tend to attract beasts and creatures beyond even the deeps. Fortunately, unlike ‘dungeon cores’, the star crystals have no detectable sentience of their own and rarely ever releases mana bursts that send nearby monsters into a frenzy.”


    - Senior Pathfinder Gabriel Kostance, Pathfinders Guild, “On Dungeon Exploration - Chapter 4: Star Crystals and Outworld Connections”


    <hr><hr>


    There were three things Mila hated to her core. Demons, the murder of innocents, and travelling the high seas. With no demons in Arteria, and no innocents that she knew of being attacked. That left her face still a little green, as a likely result of ship travel. Even though she had thought herself more than capable after three arduous sea voyages in the past year, nothing had changed.


    “Grrr.” She didn’t if she grumbled or her stomach did. Either way, the discomfort was too real.


    Her head hurt, her stomach was a blaze, and her soul had long fled her body after day one of the voyage. The ground of Arteria looked like clay to her as she uneasily hobbled forward. Her insides lurched forward as the sudden stillness of dryland caught the rumbled stomach off guard. She almost hurled again but found there was nothing left to expel.


    She also felt very exposed standing at the docks. The overwhelming noises and sounds, the sea air now mixed with the crusty smell of thousands of dock workers. Cramped portside residences and officers gave way to a skyline dominated by several tall towers including the massive rounded Chamber of Stalwart Justice that controlled the city’s affairs.


    Yet here she was, no inquisitor’s coat or weapons in hand, all stowed away in her luggage. Just a plainly dressed, somewhat demure and heavily sea sickened girl. She gently covered her mouth with her hand, using sheer force of will to stop herself from dry heaving.


    Her orders were as simple as they were baffling. Lady Serilda had espoused on the need for her to rest in Arteria and to attend the Acadmy. What she didn’t expect was for her to be ordered to ‘live as any lady or girl would’. How? Had been her pejorative question in response, though she knew better than to voice her doubts. She had at least expected to be assigned to the Church facilities within the Arterian Academy, but based on the papers she received, she would have far less interaction with the Astral church than even she would have predicted. Unlike her other postings and duties, beyond staff to help her attend the Academy, there were no personnel assigned to or around her.


    One of her incognito escorts, Ser Ludin of the Argent Curia, a younger templar, motioned for her to keep moving. With a pained grunt, she carefully moved forward. And there’s still the boat to the Academy itself, ugh.


    The city of commerce, the heart of continental trade. Yet the last time I was here… her face dropped as she remembered her last arrival here. Her failure to save Annalise still weighed heavily on her mind. It struck something within her, a sense of melancholic emptiness. That’s right, I’m here because I failed. Because I wasn’t good enough, now Lady Serilda had to step in.


    Dejected, she could only hope that her time at the Academy wouldn''t go as poorly as her experiences here or in Gratia.


    <hr><hr>


    When they neared the main road connecting the port district to the Nocali Gate, Mila instantly felt uneasy. Arteria’s atmosphere was one of commerce, deals, and far too many laborers and rowdy citizens. Only now did she notice the particularly worrying tension that hung in the air. The more muted sounds of people celebrating whatever it is someone cheers about over a drink or ten. There was also the distinctly heavy presence of red cloak city guards deployed around the port, even more so than the last time she was here.


    With her trained desires to sniff out secrets and heretics intrigued, she turned to look at her escort and arched an inquisitive brow at him. Ser Ludin motioned for her to move closer and she obliged.


    “Guess you guys didn’t get the news yet?” He asked, his calm almost pathetic voice acting as a bastion of stability against the growing cacophony of people around them.


    She frowned and shook her head.


    “Ah.” He grunted, a hint of dissatisfaction slipping out of him, “City’s been embroiled in a messy affair.”


    “Oh?”


    “Tah, you’ll see in a second. Once we hit the edge of Trinity.” He snorted. How rude.


    Mila mulled his words in silence, a bit miffed at how dismissive the templar agent was. But still weakened by sea travel, she had no more sparks of defiance left within her. Only the endless unease that she would hurl the moment someone bumped into her.


    Keeping to herself, she trudged along until they grew closer to Saint Emeline Plaza. She heard the jumbled cries of a chant first of all. The sounds of something organized cutting through the chaotic din of the city despite being a little too scrambled by noise to be understanding. Then she saw them. The statue of the third era saintess standing proud over the people of the craftsmen quarters. There, underneath its stern gaze, restless crowds of townspeople and what seemed to be laborers holding a protest. Passing by an archway that brought them into the plaza proper, their beleaguered cries reached her ears.


    “Down with the company! Down with the company!”


    Came the collective chant.


    Around a hundred odd souls were standing around the statue, yelling without pause. They were watched carefully by dozens of guardsmen, but unlike protests she’d seen before, the guards were not tense. Rather, in her opinion, more than a good half of them seemed to be displaying sympathetic glances to the protestors. In stark contrast with the redcloaks however, the blue cloaked Trinite’s looked far more disdainful of this whole affair than their more ubiquitous counterparts.


    Beyond them, mariners and other workers would occasionally join the chants before returning to their duties. Overall, she judged the mood of the city to be dire. More importantly, based on the presence of the guards but their beleaguered appearances, there would be no outbreak of heavy violence at least. A small mercy.


    She looked at Ser Ludin once more, the templar giving a soft nod.


    “Braveskull Company, one of the big five trading houses, has been suspended. Effective since the start of this week.” The templar grunted.


    “The trading house? Suspended? What the hells happened? Aren’t they the main provider of the city’s mercenary muscle and caravan guards?” Mila was bewildered, the idea that a pillar of Arteria could so readily be taken down, and so recently at that.


    “Aye. The one and only.” Ludin confirmed.


    Interspersed amongst the chanting crowds, Mila could also pick out a second chant that occasionally was heard.


    “Free them all!”


    Was the secondary rallying cry.


    She looked over to check if the templar had heard the same. The man just gave her an exasperated shrug at her curious gaze.


    “Loyal workers?” She asked.


    “Pff.” He snickered dryly, “More like the people are hearing too much, too fast.”


    “Eh?” Mila cocked a brow.


    “Temple business, believe it or not.” He grunted, a bit more tiredly, his expression growing almost weary.


    Mila could tell the man was annoyed and kept her mouth shut. Still, temple business? I thought we didn’t like being too active in Arteria. What changed?


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Passing the protestors, she saw a few holding signs. ‘Braveskull numbskulls’, ‘Death to the traitors’, ‘Free our heroes’, ‘Defend our folk’, ‘Save our girls’. It was an eclectic mix to be sure. But their ire was directed towards the company, for good or bad. What did catch her eye however was a sign at the edge of the group, ‘Free the bull’. How odd, she mused to herself, and ‘Save our girls’, just what the hells did the company do?


    Ludlin tapped her shoulder and gestured towards the Chamber of Stalwart Justice.


    “Yeah?” Mila quipped.


    “One of our templars went rogue and led some militia and rogue guard units to raid a company outpost. They’re due for an expedited public trial sometime next week.”


    “Trial? Rogue templars?”


    “Aye. I believe you’re familiar, Sir Taurox the Blademaster.”


    “Sir T… Taurox? The Blademaster went rogue?!” Mila let out a shocked squeal.


    “Heheh.” The man chuckled, “Yeah, headache all round. Had half the bloody order scrambling to put out his fire and distance ourselves. Tch, certainly a tough bloody week.”


    “But then…”


    “They found a slave mine. Not like indentured servitude you see in the city, but proper slavery. Fucking legion of kidnapped and disappeared folk. Sick shit. Almost cultish if not for the fact that they were one of the trading houses.”


    “A mine? A legion? That’s impossible! Surely someone would’ve known.”


    The templar let out a grim chuckle, “Sure. But the council wouldn’t admit that. Someone high up’s trying to cover for them, I’m certain. Though, if anyone asks, that’s just baseless speculation on my part."


    “Tch.” She sneered. Just like most troubles and heretical cults. Always a higher patron hiding the crimes. Bah.


    “Yeah. That''s about right.” He sighed.


    With that, she could tell he was about done in terms of his appetite for conversation. She herself let out a small sigh. Goddess above, this sounds like one mess of a time. Quietly, she nursed her stomach, the added troubles of the world also scratching at the edge of her headache. Ugh, of all the times to arrive in the city. Sorry master, I somehow doubt I’ll be able to relax once I get to the Academy.


    <hr><hr>


    Reaching Scholar’s Rest was both a blessing and a curse. Tucked away from the hubbub of the main street and the protests, the area of the Academy Dockyards was relatively quiet. It did unfortunately mean that Mila was about to board yet another ship just after getting used to dry land. Though she knew the ferry ride would be short, the mere implication of another seaborne journey made her nauseous.


    Under the shadow of the city walls, a handful of other church personnel welcomed her presence at the dockyards. Evidently there was a little more cooperation between the Academy and the church than she had initially anticipated. Though she did find the presence of templars being actively stationed around the area more than strange. Something Ludin had only brushed off as ‘an incident at the Academy’.


    The anwser disatisfied the inquisitor greatly, but she was more worried about the ferry ride ahead. Her stomach has barely stilled since getting off into Arteria. What an awful day and what an awful state the city is in. Thanks Lady Serilda.


    To her, all she could do was try and maintain a little dignity while she attempted to get a bearing of the situation. Even then, her sea sickness threatened that goal. As a member of the vaunted Inquisition, it was a grave weakness and one that could hinder her ability to properly react in the future. As just a person, it was unsightly and embarrassing. Ahhh! This sucks!


    A few Academy guardians eyed her and her escort, but after a few hushed words between Ser Ludin and the garrison commander, she was waved through. Power of the church, I suppose. Trotting along, she ended up in front of a seperate ferry pier, one reserved for more private usage for Academy staff. A guardian traded a small letter with Ludin who nodded and getsured for Mila to board.


    With great reluctance, she bobbed her head and stepped onto the ship. Compared to the normal ferry, this one was a little lower to the water and sleeker. The ship itself was armed with two balista poking out of its sides. A little excessive for an academic vessel but what do I know. Ships are stupid. She tried to lessen how scowl but it only deepened as she got onboard. Every creak of her footsteps on the wooden boards making her growing dread deepen within her heart. Dammit. Why me?


    As a few other academic passengers took their town seats, she moved to a chair somewhere in the back hoping to stay out of sight. Sitting down on a spare seat and huddling to herself, she mumbled quiet prayers pleading for the Goddess to protect her. It was a futile attemp, but an endeavour she was willing to try nonetheless. She felt her heart skip a beat when the ferry finally detached itself from the dock. The sudden lurching motion setting off what little defenses she had in place to hold back her discomfort. Feeling her face turning green, she fought the urges to vomit until she could hold on no longer.


    Throwing what precious dignity she had away, she scowled even harder as she could fight no longer. Dashing up from her seat to the consternation of nearby passengers, she ran to the edge of the ferry and positioned herself accordingly. Her insides bucked against her and she dry heaved, producing horrific noises as she primed herself for forty minutes of suffering.


    <hr><hr>


    She felt like a ghost, a shell of a being. One whose soul was mentally scarred by the rigors of battle, and her body drained from rampant sea sickness. Exhausted, annoyed, and irritated, she practically raced off the ferry to embrace the small port town of Laurusport.


    Only after spending a few moments collecting herself did she notice that even the atmosphere here seemed fraught with tension. Though it was certainly more joyous than that of Arteria itself, a cloud of unease hung heavy in the air. Like a thick mist that refused to dissipate.


    Here too, did she notice the copious amounts of guardsmen and soldiers deployed on the streets. Where every street corner and every alleyway seemed to only hold more men and women in uniform. It was a bizarre sight for her to see such militirization near the Academy. It didn’t take long for her to suspect that it was related to the troubles that Ser Ludin had recounted earlier.


    “Inquisitor Lyudmila?” A block robed man wearing Inquisitorial garb, sardonically asked.


    “Oh. That''s me.” She replied.


    “Very well then. Follow me.” The man commanded.


    Without waiting for her, he took big strides forward. Mila wobbled uncertainty and struggled to follow. Noticing her weakened gait, the other Inquisitor eased up on his pace and gave her time to catch up.


    Shamed but undeterred, she fought to match his new pace, hoping not to be left out. Whatever the case, it only aggravated her stomach even more and she almost retched.


    “You uhhh, alright?” The Inquisitor asked.


    Mila weakly nodded, feebly waving her hand to dismiss him. He rolled his eyes and simply walked away, forcing her to quickly try to follow.


    It didn’t help that the oppressiveness that had overtaken Laurusport had begun to wear her down as well.


    Reaching her designated carriage bound for the Academy alongside the other Inquisitor proved to be a great relief to her. Though the man remained aloof, she was at least grateful that he helped load her luggage, removing a small burden from her shoulders.


    Stepping inside, she let out an audible sigh of relief.


    “Inquisitor?” The man looked over.


    Too tired to preserve her reputation, she just sprawled herself on the seat and groaned. “Sea sickness.”


    Amused by her suffering, he regarded her for an extra second before closing the carriage door and adopting a more serious position with elbows resting on the armrests of the carriage. Mila counted exactly six seconds between the carriage beginning to move and when he next spoke.


    “Inquisitor Cross.” The man curtly stated.


    She simply scowled in response, her pain etched onto her face.


    “Right.” The man tutted matter of factly, “The church sent me to get you up to speed and to ensure your compliance with your master’s orders.”


    “Mmm.” Mila grunted.


    “You are to avoid any official Astral church duties beyond what you might deem necessary during an emergency. You are also to remain undercover as a student, for as long as you are able to. So instructed your master, Senior Inquisitor Serilda when she wrote to us. Will you acknowledge?” Inquisitor Cross folded his arms together.


    “I, Inquisitor Lyudmila, acknowledge these orders.”


    “Fantastic. Any questions?” His disdainful gaze betrayed the neutral tone of his voice. Ah, he must see me as a slacker or as competition.


    She bit her lip, holding back her nausea, wondering if asking him about what happened to the Academy would simply provoke more hostility or not. But with her orders being to minimize contact with the church, she figured that he would be one of the last officials that she could interrogate before being forced to be a normal student. What do I have to lose at this point?


    Already plaid and on the sicklier side from her voyage, she leveraged the last strands of respect the other Inquisitor might’ve had of her and spoke. “What’s the situation at the Academy?”


    The man pinched nose before giving his temple a quick massage. “From when?" He snickered, "In the last two weeks there had been an assassination attempt. Now there’s talk of riots and protests in the city. One of the students led an assault on a trading house and is going on trial. Situation’s pretty fucked. Didn’t need more staffers to bungle things up.” He muttered the last line to himself, a little too loudly.


    Mila ignored it and just nodded. Assassinations''? In the Academy?! And the riots in the city, are they connected in any way? So the trial, one of the students? Why do I have a bad feeling about this? She grumbled to herself, And Lady Serilda wants me to stay uninvolved? Shit’s going wrong before I even arrived, feh. Fat chance of that. She almost snorted, if not for her stomach making her groan once more, ugh, what a mess. Me, here, Gratia, everywhere. Saint damned hells.