Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 418

The Drowning Rat was less of a tavern and more of a damp cavern where Alluria’s worst elements went to drink in the dark. It was an even seedier meeting place than the Hooded Man, but One-Ear’s instructions told him to come here for a meeting, and considering the chaos gripping the city, Nick understood why he was going to such lengths to stay out of the public eye.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for the man to appear. He was getting the sense that, despite wearing his cowl and projecting menace, someone would have tried their luck sooner or later, and while he was never one to turn down a good fight, the scum that frequented this place weren’t worth learning anything from, and more importantly, he needed to stay at full strength for what was coming.

One-Ear slumped down heavily, holding a cup that smelled like fermented mushrooms, twitching nervously at the distant sound of the temple bells.

“Ulter’s men are tearing apart the city,” he murmured, keeping his voice barely above a whisper with a skill. "Sashara’s priests are blocking them at the plazas, but the alleys are crawling with Hounds. This is bad for business, Crowley. Very bad.”

It's going to get worse before it gets better, but I might be able to do something about it,” Nick replied, sliding a heavy leather pouch across the table. It clinked with the unmistakable, weighty sound of pure gold. "I need a rumor planted. Fast, and in the right places.”

One-Ear’s eyes darted to the pouch, then back to Nick. The broker’s greed clashed with his survival instincts, and the fact that he hadn’t already grabbed it showed just how dangerous the situation was. "What kind of rumor?”

"I need the people who deal in the Tower’s secrets to hear this," Nick said, leaning forward. “I know you have other contacts besides me. Tell them that Marius Illismonde survived the Festival.”

One-Ear blinked. “After all the effort we went through to hide him, you want it known he’s alive and well?”

“Yes,” Nick replied seriously. “Let it also be known that he’s singing like a bird. There’s no need for too many details. I just need this to reach the Archmages.”

One-Ear sucked in a breath through his teeth. He didn't need to be a genius to grasp this was the political equivalent of a thermonuclear bomb, given the boy’s noble status and connection to one specific Archmage.

“That will cost me more than just money, you know?” he said, though the fact that he hadn’t denied the request showed that he was calculating beyond losing a few contacts.

“I am aware, and rest assured, there is more where that came from,” Nick murmured, gesturing to the pouch. “More importantly, this could be the solution to this whole mess. It’s not good for anyone’s business if things continue to escalate, isn’t it?”

The broker regarded him seriously for a long moment before finally deciding that he was genuine. He quickly scooped up the gold from the table, making it disappear into his coat. "It’ll be on the lips of every fence and shadow-broker before the hour is up, and it’ll be known within the Tower by the end of the day. But this cannot be allowed to go on much longer, you understand.”

“Yes, it will be finished in the next day or two. Just keep your head down once you're done, and we’ll handle everything else,” Nick reassured, before slipping out the back door of the tavern and disappearing into the maze of tunnels beneath the city, trusting his broker to do his job.

He moved quickly, scanning the dark corridors for any signs of pursuit with [Empyrean Intuition]. The rumor was the bait, but now he had to set the trap.

When he arrived at the smuggler's den, the heavy oak door swung open after he provided the correct sequence of knocks and mana pulses.

The atmosphere inside the safe house had changed. The healer was still caring for Marius, who was in a deep, magically induced sleep, but Devon was present, and Xander’s two veteran guards were fully armed and ready.

"Is it done?" Devon asked, resting the butt of his sword against his shoulder.

"The bait is in the water," Nick confirmed, pulling his hood back. He surveyed the room, analyzing the tactical layout. "Hone’s contacts will pick it up soon. My guy said it could take until the end of the day, but I don’t think we’ll have that much time.”

Once he had a clear idea of where the battle would happen, he turned to the healer. "Move him into the back alcove. Keep your head down and focus on defending yourself and him. Do not try to participate in the fight.”

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The woman nodded grimly, pulling Marius’s cot behind a brick wall and starting to set up runes and markers to create a defensive layout.

"Kael, Vance," Nick addressed the two guards. "Our target is going to be an elite strike team. Hone is as brilliant as he is paranoid, so he won’t send thugs, and he won’t send anyone tainted by the Abyss; it’s too risky with the Inquisition sniffing around above us, and it leaves too much evidence. He’s going to send Tower mages who owe him. Professionals.”

"Battle mages are always annoying," Kael grunted, drawing a broadsword that glinted with high-tier sharpness enchantments in Nick’s sight. "But we’ve fought their kind before. Lots of area-of-effect spells and powerful magics will work against them as much as us in this place, so we’ll need to close the distance quickly.”

"Let me handle the initial breach," Nick instructed. "They’ll expect some kind of trap, so I’m going to set up something they’ve never seen before. When they step through, their first defensive spells will misfire. Devon, you take the center. Force them to focus on you. Kael, Vance, flank them the moment their initial defense falters. If we’re lucky, we’ll end it in one fell swoop, but even if they survive that, they’ll be much more cautious.”

Devon grinned and put on his helmet. "A good old-fashioned bottleneck. I like it.”

Nick went to work. Normally, he would have used [Mire of Avarice] to create a swamp that would slow any offensive magic, but since he was working with melee fighters, he couldn’t.

So, he returned to basics and started painting the tunnels around them with [Emakimonos], both to give [Territory] more structure and to gain some technical ownership of the land, at least for a little while.

And there was a lot that could be done with that.

Once he was done painting glyphs, he sat on the floor and closed his eyes, gradually extending [Territory] through the tunnels. It wasn’t easy, since this was public land and he didn’t know how long he’d need to hold out before the enemy showed up, but he took his time, blending it with the local ether and using the drawings as anchors.

It wouldn’t be the same, but Politod’s absolute mastery of ambient mana had given him an idea, and he had already done something similar against Marius once. He only needed to introduce unpredictable elements into the enemy’s spells, hopefully making them misfire, but more likely just slowing them down.

These men aren’t going to mess around. The moment they realize we’re prepared for them, they’ll go for the kill, regardless of who we are affiliated with.

Just as he finished tying off the last section of [Territory] to the ambient mana, a spark of blue light fluttered down from one of the rusted ventilation grates near the ceiling.

Nick caught it as it drifted down. It was a paper crane, folded from heavy parchment and resonating with Tholm’s signature. Considering that the old man had absolute control over his magic, this was probably meant to reassure him more than anything.

As Nick unfolded it, Tholm’s voice echoed directly into his mind. “Elias is currently enduring a cup of my worst tea. I have informed him that we have much to discuss regarding the temples’ overreach. He is aware of what I’m doing, but since the Tower Master joined us, he is bound by protocol to remain. The board is yours, Nicholas. Do not let the pieces escape.”

The moment the message was delivered, the paper turned into harmless blue dust.

"Tholm has Hone pinned in his office," Nick announced, feeling a surge of satisfaction warming his chest. "He can't interfere directly. It’s just his lackeys and us.”

"Good," Vance muttered, sliding a heavy kite shield onto his arm. “I’ll die in battle one day, but today is not that day.”

They took their positions. Nick crouched behind a stack of reinforced smuggling crates near the back wall, his staff resting across his knees. Devon stood dead center, a towering wall of steel. The two guards blended into the shadows on either side of the entrance, slowing their breathing to an imperceptible rhythm.

And then, they waited.

Minutes stretched into an hour, then two. The only sound in the safe house was the steady drip of condensation from the ceiling, and if Nick hadn’t been able to sense the others, he would have thought he was alone. He kept his [Empyrean Intuition] flared to its absolute limit, pushing his senses through the stone walls and into the tunnels beyond for a mile.

Come on, Nick thought. You can't let him live, Hone. You have to make the move.

Finally, something moved. Considering how difficult spatial magic was, especially in enclosed spaces, he hadn’t expected Hone’s men to teleport in, but that was exactly what happened.

They materialized just below a grate half a mile away, in what he only now realized was an anchor point.

"They're here," Nick whispered, making sure his voice carried through the silent room. “I sense three signatures with high density. They're suppressing their mana, so they must be skilled in stealth. Try not to lose sight of them once they arrive.”

As much as I want to believe everything will go as planned, I need to remember that these people are veterans in their own right. They won’t scatter at the first sign of trouble, and they are likely prepared to face resistance.

A few minutes later, the strike group finally reached the first iron gate. Nick had set it as the initial boundary of his [Territory], as a test to see how they’d handle a reinforced structure.

A perfect circle in the middle of the iron turned cherry-red, then white-hot, within two seconds. A muffled voice echoed behind it, and Nick felt a powerful spell take shape.

A wave of pure fire destroyed the iron, turning it into a blast of splinters that tore into the tunnel, further accelerated by a kinetic spell that turned the shrapnel into bullets.

They crashed into the oak door and tore through it, and Nick felt the enemy’s satisfaction grow.

Hiding a smile, he finally used his magic to slow the shrapnel’s speed, allowing Devon to face them safely.

His brother roared, planting his feet and raising his armored arms to shield his face. The splinters sparked and deflected off his heavy plate, pushing him back an inch but failing to pierce his defenses.

Through the cloud of dust and vaporized wood, three figures moved into the tunnel in perfect sync, clearly accustomed to working together.

They wore dark robes without any identifying features, but Nick didn’t need that to connect them to signatures he had sensed within the Tower over the past months.

The lead mage, a woman by appearance, didn't hesitate to sweep her wand downward. "[Zone of Silence]," she commanded, immediately attempting to cut off verbal casting and communication.

Non-verbal casting wasn’t that hard to learn, and most mages became skilled by the time they graduated, but it did need more focus, and in a high-stakes battle like this, that could be very costly.

Unfortunately for her, Nick didn’t need words to ignite the magic he had already planted through the tunnel.