Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 396

Nick grumbled as he fished a silver coin out of his pocket and slapped it into Raphael’s hand.

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken it," he muttered, though he wasn’t that upset about it. He’d been expecting such an ambush, after all.

“It was a sucker’s bet," Raphael replied, pocketing the coin with a grin. He looked better now that they were on a more familiar battlefield and was clearly confident he could take on the students who were squaring off against them, but Nick had no intention of letting things go that far. For now.

The one he was quite certain was another Illismonde stood in the center of the lounge, flanked by two other seniors who suddenly looked unsure if they wanted to be there. The Illismonde, however, had no such doubts. His eyes were red-rimmed, burning with the specific hatred of a man who held a personal grudge.

“Are you sure about this, Marius?” one of the goons asked, showing a surprising amount of sense.

They had become the center of attention, and Nick had no doubt that whatever happened here, the entire Tower would know by lunchtime.

"You think this is funny?" Marius spat, ignoring the question. "That because you tricked the judges, it’s over?”

"The Tribunal has already spoken," Nick said softly, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. "Joran made the wrong choices, as has been made evident. Don't make the same ones.”

“My cousin was a fool," Marius hissed, stepping closer, invading Nick's personal space, and glaring at them with deep contempt. "But he was my blood. And such ties can’t be ignored, no matter what words you used to trick the Tribunal into letting you go. Murder is murder!”

The tension in the lounge increased as people braced for spells to fly. Nick was somewhat surprised that Marius appeared so intent on making a scene, but then again, rightful indignation was a powerful force, and he sensed a slow buildup of emotions among those watching.

Joran might not have been very popular, but most people here are from noble houses, so they can relate to the desire for revenge.

Still, Nick didn’t let himself get distracted and kept his eyes on Marius’s hand. It hung loosely at his side, but his fingers were twitching, and he could feel a subtle magic being woven.

Marius was trying to be clever. He was weaving a spell without a focus, probably intending to hit Nick with something non-lethal but humiliating, something to make him trip, stutter, or even soil himself in front of the school, based on what he was sensing. It was the kind of vicious magic that nobles used to assert dominance without breaking the letter of the law.

It was just petty enough that going to a teacher with it would be even more humiliating, and if they responded with excessive violence, they would be portrayed as unstable and overly aggressive, reinforcing the idea in the public mind that their retelling couldn’t be trusted.

You lost legally, but the court of public opinion is still in session, huh?

Nick briefly considered replying in kind, if more forcefully than Marius could. He certainly had enough control over his spiritual mana to cast a [Spirit Blast] that would go unnoticed, but then he chose a different approach.

Subtly exhaling, he expanded his [Territory] through the lounge, tainting it with just enough of his mana to claim it.

Before entering the dungeon, it had been useful in specific situations, especially when he was out of sight and could set up properly, but his stronger soul now expressed itself in every piece of magic he cast, and he could feel the difference as the local ether came fully under his control.

There were so many things he could have done with it. The possibilities seemed almost endless, but Nick composed himself and froze it in place.

Marius’s fingers completed the twitch, and his will reached out to grasp the ambient mana to fuel his hex, rightfully thinking that dispersing it through the ether would make it even more subtle.

Nothing happened. The mana simply didn't respond to him, lingering in the air and refusing to bond with his matrix.

Marius blinked. He tried again, this time harder, pouring his remaining strength into the spell, too proud to give up now.

The mana dissipated instantly, wiped out of existence by Nick’s overriding command.

That finally seemed to do the trick. The realization gradually dawned on Marius, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted his gaze from his ineffective hand to Nick’s imperturbable face.

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There was no need for him to brag. His actions spoke louder than words.

By then, the silence had gone on too long, becoming awkward, and the two seniors started to realize that something had gone wrong.

Behind him, Raphael snorted softly, exuding amusement as he, too, caught up with what had happened.

"You..." Marius whispered.

"Go back," Nick said gently but with deliberate emphasis, making it clear that his words were more than just a suggestion. "Before you do something you can't undo."

Marius didn't have a reply to that. Quietly, he turned and walked away, his pace speeding up until it was nearly a run, with his friends rushing to keep up.

“Aw man,” Raphael complained, “I could have used a bit of fun.”

Nick shook his head and took a slow look around to make sure no one else got any bright ideas.

No one met his eyes.

Night fell over Alluria, bringing a cold northern wind.

While the other apprentices caught up on the sleep they missed during their dungeon dive, Nick dressed in plain dark clothes, put on the [Ring of Unknowingness], activated the owl figurine to regain his sight, and took the elevator down, slipping out of the Tower’s gates.

Not that he expected to go unnoticed by the two spellblades guarding the entrance, but those two were experienced at their job and knew better than to stop any student eager to get into trouble as long as the Tower wasn’t under lockdown.

The city felt even more different at night, as the usual lively energy of the taverns and the magical light shows in the merchant district seemed subdued. Notably, the City Watch patrols were still operating at the same level as during the sweeps they conducted looking for the Circle of Pure Souls, which meant that it wasn’t just his imagination that the tensions had yet to decrease.

Nick kept to the shadows, heading for the lower districts near the docks and trusting his ring to prevent him from being detected.

He turned down the alley that led to The Hooded Man, a basement tavern that looked like it had seen better days. It was the usual hangout for One-Ear, or at least it used to be before he left for the south.

Hopefully, he’s still working at the same places. It would be a pity if something happened to him after surviving the purges the Duke carried out.

Fortunately, Nick found him in the back booth, nursing a mug of something that smoked green. The man looked tired, but not particularly distressed, which was a sign that while business had been tough, it hadn’t been impossible.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” One-Ear murmured as Nick slid into the booth, now more than used to not sensing his arrival. Honestly, he probably would have trusted him less if he had made his presence known by now. “Done making a mess of the south?”

“You know how it is,” Nick replied with a reassuring grin. “Though I’d be happy to clarify a few things for you, given our relationship. For a fee, of course.”

One-Ear barked out a laugh, more amused than annoyed by the audacity. “I’m sure that if I waited a couple of days, the Tower’s rumor mill would trickle down to my other contacts. I’ve been busy, you know?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t doubt your reach, but then you’d have third-hand information, and get it late at that. Your business is built upon knowing the right thing at the right moment, isn’t it?”

The broker gave a slow nod, seemingly pleased with their banter, and Nick realized he’d worried he might have gotten a big head due to his recent success.

“How about an exchange?” He proposed, and One-Ear gestured for him to continue.

“I can give you more details than anyone except Archmage Tholm and the King’s Shadows know, and you’ll tell me everything you know about what’s really happening with the temples.”

One-Ear’s expression twitched as he name-dropped the most feared intelligence operators of the kingdom, and Nick remembered that it wasn’t customary to name them so openly, but the privacy spells overlayed on the table were enough to keep from drawing the other patrons’ attention.

Eventually, One-Ear gave a slow nod. “I can do that, though there’s a lot of stuff they’ve been doing.”

“Well, start with the beginning,” Nick urged.

Apparently, the Temple of Ulter had been funneling enough resources into the city to make it the second-largest religion by sheer numbers, despite once being the fourth by a wide margin, and even that was only because Sashara’s followers had grown in the wake of the attacks.

More interestingly, the blue-robed priests seemed determined to embed themselves into the city’s fabric and were actively offering acts of charity to anyone willing to listen to a prayer, especially focusing on the docks.

“They’re concentrating on the poorest,” One-Ear mused as he guided him through a shadowy alley. “They offer free healing to the fishermen, bless the nets, and purify the rain barrel water. The common people are growing more fond of them, even more than the established faiths of the western provinces.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Nick said, though something told him they weren’t doing it out of the goodness of their hearts.

"Benevolence is very expensive," One-Ear sneered. "Nothing is free, Crowley, you know that. They're buying loyalty, and they're stepping on toes in the process. The local nobles who control the docks are furious because the priests are settling disputes now.”

“But why?” Nick asked. He could see the overall plan, how they were integrating into Alluria’s fabric to make it impossible to remove them, but this all seemed like a lot of effort for a city where they had no history.

“You’ll see,” One-Ear said as they climbed a shaky maintenance ladder up the side of a warehouse overlooking the main street of the Dock District. "Keep your head down and don’t use any magic," he then warned, pressing himself against the slate roof tiles.

Nick crouched beside him, peering over the edge as he sensed something odd. Below them, the street was lit by the faint glow of crystal lamps, where two men were walking down the middle of the road.

There were two priests, dressed in the distinctive sea-foam robes of Ulter. Unlike the ones Nick had seen near the Tower, these men didn’t carry coral staves. Instead, they held leashes made of water, and attached to the chains was a creature.

It looked like a large hound, but its body was made entirely of semi-translucent water. It had no eyes, only a snout that rippled constantly, tasting the air, and its paws made wet, slapping sounds against the cobblestones, leaving damp prints.

“A Hound of the Deep," One-Ear whispered. "Quasi-elemental. Nasty beasties. They don't smell sweat or blood, but spiritual taint. Corruption. Lies. Terrible for business.”

Nick watched the creature. It moved with a predatory fluidity, snapping its jaws at the empty air.

It doesn’t quite feel like a spirit, but I can sense its heavy presence in the ether. The closest comparison I can make is Talbot, although they’re only tangentially related.

It didn’t surprise him that such a creature could exist, considering how active the local ether was. Honestly, it was more surprising that he hadn’t encountered more of its kind before, although he had been intentionally avoiding the temples, so maybe it was his own fault.

Suddenly, the Hound halted. Its fluid muscles tightened, and its eyeless head swung around, scanning the darkness. A moment later, it emitted a low, gurgling growl.

Then, it looked up directly at the warehouse roof.