The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

Celine was still jumpy when they arrived at the Bard and Lion Inn, but the bright glyph lamps and soothing warmth and aromas from the kitchen seemed to calm her down.

Mirian waited until she had a hot cup of tea to wrap her hands around, then finally asked, “Who was Philus?”

The journalist was silent for a while, then finally said, “A secretary of the Palendurio Guard.”

So they are corrupt, Mirian thought. “And he discovered something.”

“Yes. Dozens of missing armor sets, accounted for in the inventory, but missing from the armory. He informed his superiors, but they’ve been dragging their feet. So he came to me.”

The armor is then given to the other group. So the Palendurio Guard’s corruption may be as minor as taking bribes—but they must know that it would be used for impersonation.

“It… it seemed like a minor story. A good one, but… I can’t believe…”

“It’s part of something much, much bigger,” Mirian said. “Is there anything else you know?”

Celine sat there, holding her mug of tea. Finally, she shook her head. “I mean, I can give you the names of his superiors, who he reported the missing armor to.”

She wrote the names in her journal. “You can stay here, I’d just use a false name,” Mirian said. “Also I’ve been warding up the place. Don’t tell the owner that. Here. Some gold to take care of you. Please don’t speak of me to anyone. The less I’m noticed, the more effective I’ll be.”

***

Hamel was already dead. She’d thought his assassination was related to Celine’s, but she’d have to spend another cycle to save him. Mirian started scouring the newspaper for any more suspicious deaths, digging up old broadsheets from the archives in the Great Library. There were two more journalists and four others who had died of heart attacks or in their beds at night, but those deaths had come well before the time loop started.

The wands appeared to attack the soul directly at the heart, causing the damage to bleed through into the body. The formula was surprisingly simple, and from context, she was able to deduce a new rune from the wand, one that seemed to denote a coordinate inside the body, much like how the glyph system used coordinates.

The resonance signature of the rune seemed quite similar to a heartfire salamander. The salamander’s heart was its spell-organ, and the source of the flames it could exude. That its soul was used to mark a coordinate that matched the location of the heart made a sort of sense to her. Arenthia’s lessons on modifying the soul caused changes on its surface, but it also made sense there would be runes that could modify the inner workings.

And yet, Mirian thought, the void in my soul is where my heart is. Yet my heart is unharmed. Somehow, something is in there, but the damage doesn’t transfer to my body. What does that imply?

On the 20th, Mirian waited in the canals below the embassy. She used detect life again, which was fast becoming her favorite spell. The ability to see souls moving even through solid stone was incredibly useful.

Sure enough, the same hour that the Akanan guards had all vanished from their patrols, she found those same guards coming down through a secret passage to a waiting boat. They had with them several people, including a man dressed in very fine clothes. Is that the Ambassador? she wondered. So he has enough contacts to know about the attack. But he’s reported as killed, isn’t he?

Six guards all armed with combat wands were too many for her to be confident in taking, so she simply watched from the shadows as they hid him in a crate, donned disguises that made them look like laborers, then started paddling through the canals towards the river. The disguises were atrocious; sure, they were dressed like laborers, but they moved with the coordination and alertness of a military unit.

Mirian watched them go, then made her way back up to the surface. There, she levitated over the gate and used force blast to shatter one of the second story windows.

No alarm sounded.

Already disabled, Mirian guessed.

She wandered around. It was still early morning before sunrise, so everyone who hadn’t fled was asleep. The Ambassador’s room was easy enough to find. The doors were locked, but she broke them open. At first, there appeared to be a man sleeping in the large bed there, but when she went over to check, she could see the truth: there was a corpse, lying there, nicely tucked in.

“Who the fuck are you?” said a woman’s voice behind her. She was speaking Eskanar.

“The Akanan Embassy is scheduled to be attacked later today,” Mirian replied, also in Eskanar. She turned to face the woman. “The Ambassador seems to have known. But I guess he didn’t care to inform you all.”

The woman was still wearing her nightclothes, which meant she’d just woken up. Her piercing blue eyes looked absolutely terrified. She was holding a wand pointed at Mirian. “W-what… what? I warn you, I know how to use this.”

“Come take a look,” Mirian said, ignoring the threat.

Cautiously, the woman did. “Oh God,” she said, then vomited on the carpet. Hastily, she wiped it away and pointed the wand at Mirian again.

“Where are the guards? Why is the alarm disabled?” Mirian asked.

“I don’t… he said… he said he was feeling ill, and not to disturb him tomorrow. Today. Oh God.” The woman rushed to the window. “Where are the guards?”

“My name’s Micael,” Mirian said. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. Can you help me?”

***

The woman’s name was Kathera, and Mirian had watched her die in the streets last cycle. The Ambassador had shredded his files, but several cabinets of diplomatic communiques hadn’t been moved or tampered with. Likely, the Ambassador hadn’t used official communications to record his part in the conspiracy, but Mirian hoped he’d missed something, and had just assumed it would all be destroyed in the fire.

Kathera had helped organize the embassy staff who’d been left to die, and together, they piled the cabinets onto a hired carriage. With the guards gone and the wards disabled, the only thing that had been binding them was their loyalty. With the corpse body-double to show them, it was no problem to convince them, then to evacuate well before the fake Palendurio Guards arrived.

Not really sure where else to go with nearly two dozen people, Mirian brought them to Celine’s ransacked building, and they set up next to the destroyed printing press.

“I’ll ward the area. If you need me to return immediately, just step on this glyph right here,” Mirian told Kathera, gesturing to a basic ward she’d scribed on the floor. “I’ll send Celine over, and she can help go through the records. I know she’s trustworthy because they already tried to assassinate her. Look especially at communications with anyone in the Corrmier family.”

When she made to leave, Kathera said, “Wait, where are you going?”

Mirian turned at the door. “I’m going to go see if I can capture one of the soldiers who’s about to help burn down the embassy.”

The embassy workers she’d saved looked at each other.

“See you in a few,” Mirian said.

First, she stopped by the Bard and Lion to tell Celine what to do. Then she made her way down into the southern canals under Ducastil, using detect life to look for suspicious gatherings. She’d memorized the spot where they eventually scattered, but hadn’t gotten a precise location on where they’d come up from.

Finding the gathering was surprisingly easy. Several people wearing Palendurio Guard uniforms were positioned to block off that section of the canal network. She could see dozens of souls through her spell through the stone walls around the bend.

When she approached the guard, he said, “Sorry, citizen. There’s a dangerous criminal on the loose down here. We’re blocking off his escape, but we don’t want anyone getting hurt until he’s apprehended.”

“I have a shipment to pick up,” Mirian said. “It’s time-sensitive. Are you sure I can’t just… perhaps with an escort?”

The guard shook his head.

“Unbelievable!” Mirian said, feigning outrage. “Let me by, it’s a matter of great importance! I’m sure the lot of you can handle a single person. Why aren’t you helping out with the search?”

One of the guards put his hand on his wand.

“I assure you—” the other guard said.

“What’s your name and your commanding officer?” Mirian demanded. “I have a mind to write a complaint!”

The man snorted. “Shove off,” he said. “Our job is hard enough without petulant delivery boys making a scene. Go now, or you’ll be arrested.”

“For demanding your name? That’s my right! I was under the impression that we still followed the crown’s law in Palendurio.”

The guard she was talking to glanced at the other guard, who tilted his head slightly.

“Martinus. Under Captain Rufus. Now piss off. Go write your complaint.”

Mirian gave them a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I will.” When she was out of sight, she scribbled the names down in her journal, then committed them to memory.

The nice thing about the underground canals was there were plenty of shadowed places to hide. Mirian took up watch near the operation. Once the false guards were on their way up, the men guarding the passages—there were six of them—moved up to take a new position. It was as she predicted: the secret staircase the embassy-burning force would come down.

Mirian wandered over. “Wait—didn’t… you were just over there!” Mirian said, faking exasperation. “Now you’re here?”

The two guards looked at each other again. One of them glanced down at his wand.

“The criminal we were in pursuit of moved,” the first one, who’d claimed his name was Martinus, said.

“How? Oh, never mind. How long will this take? Can I at least go to the other area?”

“Dunno. Sure.”

Mirian turned to leave, then turned back again. “Wait, how did he get from behind you over there to behind you over here? There’s no connecting passage.”

“Piss off,” the second guard said.

Now the first one had his hand on his wand. “Rather suspicious for someone to be sneaking around the canals like this,” he said. “You the suspect’s accomplice or something? What do you think?”

“He might be,” the second guard said. “Think we should take him in?”

“Alright, alright,” Mirian said, retreating. So it doesn’t take much to break down their cover story. She stayed in plain sight of them, moving back north to the river until she was far enough away, then took a right turn and doubled back to hide in another nearby passage. She passed the time by going over her notes on wave functions and arcane resonance.

The minutes ticked by, and Mirian estimated the false guards were now ransacking the Governor’s Mansion above. After a bit longer, she finally stood and cast detect life.

The six guards were in position. She cast detect boat, an arcane spell that detected displacements of water at the surface. Why the spell existed, Mirian didn’t know, but she was glad someone had bothered. There were four of the small craft used for transporting people sitting in the canal near those guards.

Sure enough, she began to see the flickering signals of souls descending. As soon as they exited, she heard the commotion of hurried whispers and echoing clatters as the men and women of the false guards stripped their armor and began hiding it on the boats.

Mirian had prepared another spell: detect bone, using the mental component so she could visualize it without any sort of sign, and an enhancement that specified human remains. There was no need to specify ‘dead,’ as people’s natural spell resistance helped with that. There. Bags of remains, she noted.

The false guards had incinerated the bodies, but not the bones. They were piling them onto the boats with the armor to dispose of. So if all four boats can be intercepted and searched, that could reveal the conspirators, she thought. Or would it be better to stop them before their attack?

For now, she needed to find more about the conspiracy.

Four boats with four people each left four more false guards to split up and go separate ways along the canals, while the six false guards that had been stationed as lookouts started marching along the walkways at a hurried pace.

She had to give them credit; the operation would have gone perfectly. Had gone perfectly, last time. Now, though, their tactics gave her a perfect opportunity to ambush one of them. Mirian closed her eyes to better visualize her mental map of the tunnels. One of the people she was detecting would be relatively isolated, and against the currents of the canals. She cast her hide in shadows spell, then prepared a lightning bolt spell with two enhancements, one of which would decrease the lethality, and the other of which would cause temporary paralysis. She didn’t need to use the aura penetration enhancement because she had soul energy from the repository to ensure that even orichalcum jewelry wouldn’t stop her spell.

One of the false guards rounded the corner. “Shit,” she said, seeing Mirian’s shadowy form, and drew her wand.

That was all she had time for. Mirian’s lightning bolt hit her square in the chest and sent her sprawling.

Mirian didn’t wait to see if she’d attracted too much attention. She levitated over, grabbing the woman’s wand, then hefted her body over her shoulder. She cast levitation again, speeding horizontally through one of the canals, wind whipping at her hair.

She burst forth from the dark tunnels into daylight, dismissing her hide in shadows spell. Her camouflage spell wouldn’t encompass both her and the captured woman, so she didn’t bother.

Mirian shot straight up, taking both of them high above the city. The woman started to stir, the paralysis spell wearing off.

“I wouldn’t struggle if I were you,” Mirian said. “It’s a long way down.”

She felt the woman freeze up as she realized how high above the city they were. She may have moaned, but it was hard to tell with the wind whipping past them.

She continued flying them northwest until she was over the Magrio Press’s building, then descended. As she did, she flipped through her spellbook to bind person, casting it on the woman as they landed, then switched to lift person to move her into the building, sending her sprawling on the floor.

All around her, the Akanan embassy staff, now joined by Celine, stared at her.

Mirian ignored them, eyes narrowing as she looked at the woman she’d just captured. The ginger hair… her facial structure… it reminded her of someone. Then she burst out laughing. “You’re Daith’s sister, aren’t you?”

The woman looked up at her. Her hands were trembling, despite the binding spell, and she could see the fear in her eyes.

“Gods, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were twins, even though you have eight years on him.” She searched her memory. She’d spent plenty of cycles working with Daith as she learned the basics of combat magic. Gods, it’s been years since then. “Former battlemage in the army. Then he said you swapped to protecting high value trade goods. Mercenary work. Only, it seems you might not have told the whole truth. Betella, right? Sloppy work on the flame bolt wand you gave him. One of the capacitors needs work.”

“W-who are you?” Betella asked.

“I’ve been getting that question a lot lately,” Mirian said, glancing at Celine. “This is one of the false guards who just attacked the embassy. You saw the smoke, I assume?”

No one replied, but they no doubt had. Celine would have failed to miss it as she crossed town to return to her old offices.

“So,” Mirian said, surveying the people around her. “Let’s start getting to the truth.”