IMPORTANT NEWS, please read the end notes! Thank you!
This chapter is "Tactical Double Upload Part I". Part II is coming in the first few days of September.
Chapter 53
When an inn had better beds than your so called "mansion" back at home, that provided a reason for a refurbishment, most certainly.
The next morning Tyrael could barely get out of bed, the soft blankets and pillows kept him captive. With a bit of struggle, he somehow sat up, drowsily blinking at the room. His mind felt blissfully empty, his shoulders relaxed, his skin soft and airy. Next to his bed, his salvaged clothing awaited him in a pile, but he chose to just sit contently in one place for a second with his blanket around his torso, listening to the morning noises of Lut Bahada. The heavy curtains before the massive window provided an almost magical semi-darkness despite the morning sun, and Tyrael made no move to pull them away. Beyond the window, birds called out with their short songs, flocking to the park and its water by the hundreds. In one of the neighboring streets, the loud screeching of a short but bloody cat fight erupted. Little else happened in the city, however: the animals and humans were still fast asleep after a full night of market-going.
Tyrael walked up to the curtains in his pants and pulled them aside. It was truly a wonderful morning, he mused, as the clear blue sky greeted him, perfect for some morning soaring. Thankfully the windows opened rather easily despite their massive size. Behind Tyrael, the blanket bundle Quiet had turned into twitched but did not wake up to the creaking of the hinges. The mortal angel stepped onto the jamb with one foot.
Then blinked.
What was he doing? He stared dumbfounded at his own posture as the happy daze left his mind. The ground was a good five meters under him, that fall, while hopefully not fatal, could still result in horrible injuries. Was he trying to jump? Why would he do that? Tyrael backed away from the window, genuine confusion taking hold of him. Did that demon bewitch him without him noticing? He felt fine, and just a moment ago he felt completely relaxed and content. If it had been a spell he just broke out of somehow, he would have noticed that, surely. Tyrael wandered back to his bed and plopped down on it, scratching his head. Eons upon eons of facing demonic magic taught him well to detect all manners of bewitchment that might come his way, he highly doubted the stalker demon could trick his senses this well – after all the bastard couldn't even hide his trace from him effectively.
So… so what was it then?
Tyrael thought back to the Eastgate Keep where he had had that completely irrational thought of going upstairs and have a quick flight around the building to clear his head… or when he quite literally jumped off from the ramparts of the collapsing building and somehow getting away without so much as a scratch. Or when Perendi accidentally flung him high in the sky and instead of panicking, he admired the view and then landed softly as if nothing has happened. What was this?! Tyrael had to wonder if he was truly going insane. The loss of his wings and ability fly might have finally gotten to him. That did not explain his physics-defying getaways, but still…
"No feeling is irrelevant in this world of Sanctuary. Do you regret it?"
Was this what Ashava had been prying about before? Yes, of course Tyrael missed his wings and the feeling of just soaring across the sky without restrictions. All angels who lost their wings in combat did, it was a well-documented phenomenon. Auriel and her Hope angels had always done their best to take care of those patients. Tyrael did not have this luxury, he had no idea what effects his flightless state might bring.
His brain turning off and almost flinging him off of high places was not something he had prepared for, in all honesty. How could he watch out for it, if his mind always caught up later?! For a second he thought about quickly writing a letter to Sophie about this, before finally catching a messenger in town somehow, but he dismissed the idea. He had done his best to make the journey's recounting as non-alarming as possible without his hands cramping from writing lies. This would definitely mess all of that up. There was nothing Sophie could do about it, except worry herself senseless, and Tyrael wanted to avoid that at all costs. She did not deserve the stressful life warriors had to live.
Tyrael sighed in utter defeat, finally putting on the clothes that were still somewhat untouched. There went his peaceful morning. He'd better start focusing on today's tasks – buying some new clothes and finding a somewhat safe method of transportation across the desert. There was no way in the Burning Hells he was going to try to cross it without a professional guide.
- Stop whistling! – came a sudden grumble from the other side of the room.
Tyrael blinked. Oh… he had been whistling. Thinking about crossing the desert had him recall a song of journeys and battles he had used to sing along the army when they flew across Pandemonium or the Hells. Another ghost of his former life came back to haunt him, apparently, but at the very least this one did not cause him to jump off of high places.
Just great…
- Sorry – he mumbled.
- Stoopid – Quiet gave voice to that displeasure at being jolted out of his peaceful sleep, turning around in his cocoon.
- It is already time to wake up, Quiet.
- Nnno.
- We have a lot of things to do today. Do you not want some new clothes?
- Nnno.
- Alright then – Tyrael stood up and stretched out, savoring the feeling. – I reckon we shall stay here then forever and forget about the grassy place, yes?
Once again the tactic worked fantastically and Quiet crawled out of his blanket fort, grumbling and mumbling all the way. Tyrael couldn't help but silently congratulate himself for coming up with this trick. His success helped him temporarily leave his puzzlement and worry behind.
On their way outside, Tyrael got some helpful advice from Utho on where to find good tailors who hopefully wouldn't try to scam them.
- Lut Bahada is a safe haven for travelers and commerce… but money does bring out the trickster in people, no denying that – the innkeeper smiled apologetically, wringing his hands.
-… Is everything alright? – Tyrael stared at the strange gesture. – Did something happen during the night?
- No, no, of course not! – Utho answered a bit too quickly, his smile wavering just a bit. – This is one of the safest parts of town, you do not have to worry about a thing, good sirs!
Tyrael stopped before the door, yanking the still half-asleep Quiet back by his hand.
- Sir, I am a… well, maybe not a hero, but a warrior who has faced evil many times before. If anyone or anything has threatened you, do let me know. Maybe I can help – he offered sincerely.
- I appreciate the offer, brave sir – Utho bowed behind the counter. – But truly, nothing has happened. There is… just a lot on my mind lately.
Tyrael supposed that was a good reason, he sympathized with that. That did not mean he completely bought it as an excuse, but he knew when to stop prying. So he merely nodded and waved goodbye to the innkeeper.
The city was still mostly silent, although some shops were already preparing to open for the eventual morning crowd. Following Utho's instructions, Tyrael and Quiet rushed through a couple of streets to arrive to a spacious tailor's shop. The walls were covered in mahogany and in red carpet adorned with flowers. The entire hall was chuck full of cupboards and tables, almost collapsing under all the scrolls of textiles. There were even some vaguely human-shaped stands that were dressed up in all manners of Aranoch-style clothing, male and female alike. Such a way to showcase one's wares looked incredibly strange to Tyrael, but also quite effective. An always-smiling fat woman rushed to them as they stepped in, wearing just the most gaudy-looking long red-and-white dress, her hair tied up in a tight bun, each finger sporting at least one ring, if not three, her neck basically unnoticeable under the numerous necklaces and chains. Tyrael tried to keep his eyes on the woman's face and not glance at the shiny collection. Quiet once again did not even bother to make an effort and stared freely on with wide eyes.
- Welcome, welcome, my dears! What would you like upon this fine morning? Some new attire, or perhaps a lovely gift for your wonderful wife? – she exclaimed happily, clasping her hands in an overly dramatic fashion.
Wife… that gave Tyrael a small pause. It did have a nice ring to it.
He quickly shook his head.
- Greetings – he nodded. – I am not sure about the gift part as of yet, but me and my… nephew would like to buy new clothes for a long and perilous travel ahead of us. Can you assist us?
- Ah, warriors, I see! – the woman nodded thoughtfully. – And I take it you have little experience with traversing the desert, yes?
- Indeed – Tyrael answered, hoping to Anu he did not just give her an opening for a scam.
Granted, Utho assured them this shop was straightforward and of quality, even if a bit pricy. But still, if he was mistaken, being the victim of a scam in the middle of the desert definitely would result in a catastrophe.
- Alright then. Allow me to refer you to my employee Feisal, he is the expert in travelling gear and armor – the shopkeeper waved for them to follow as she retreated into the back of the shop.
Said tailor was a man of few words, small posture and even less patience as he gruffly asked them some questions (mostly about the nature of their travel) and took their measurements most precisely with marked ribbons. To be honest, Tyrael was more than fine with not having to make small talk – that facet of social life was really not his forte. Quiet looked positively confused at the poking and pulling, but Tyrael reassuringly kept petting his head.
- So travelling clothes for the desert and some defense – Feisal murmured, taking some notes on a piece of paper with his quill.
- Yes, trouble tends to find us – Tyrael sighed.
Feisal merely grunted in acknowledgement, then disappeared among the many shelves and stands. He returned a few minutes later, staggering under an impressive mound of different clothes, all in the sizes closest to his clients.
What followed was a few hours of the usual tailor's banter – trying on clothes and armor, refining the exact requests and measurements of the two clients, occasionally getting into an argument when the tailor did not allow certain articles of clothing to be added.
- No capes! – Feisal quickly yanked the truly fine craftsmanship out of Tyrael's hands.
- But—
- Capes are for pompous royalty!
- They are useful during travels! – Tyrael retorted, offended.
Between them, Quiet followed the battle of wills, well… quietly.
- Cloaks are useful for travel. They are water- and windproof – Feisal sniffled with disdain, coming out with a simple but clearly well-made dark brown coat. – Also are less of bandit magnets!
Some part of Tyrael knew the man was making sense, still he really fancied that mostly golden and red cape he had fished out of a nearby cupboard. Maybe because it was shiny and honestly beautiful.
- Isn't the outfit my decision? – he tried one more time.
- Boruon of the Iron Wolves! – Feisal barked back.
- What about him?
- Tenth of Esunar, 1273! A battle won, Caldeum saved, when his cape got stuck on the fin of a retreating dune thresher!
- Anything can get stuck on that! – Tyrael grumbled.
- What's an esunar and dune tressher? – Quiet tried to interject in a small voice but was promptly ignored.
- First of Ostara, 1283, Sea Captain Vasul! A waterspout sucked him in by his cape!
- Waterspouts suck in entire ships!
- Lone Adventurer al-Uzra, his cape provoked a tribe of Wendigos into an attack! – Feisal defiantly shouted, practically bouncing into Tyrael's face. – Horse Master Terca, stuck on a tree while racing! Pyromancer Parazs, his burning cape set fire to the explosives he confiscated from cultists! NO CAPES!
Tyrael remained silent and wide-eyed, utterly defeated by the small man.
- Now, let's get back to work, shall we – Feisal immediately switched back into his grumpy demeanor and hopped away from the intimated archangel.
Quiet merely shared a side glance with Tyrael as the two of them came to the silent agreement to move past the now dreaded subject. Eventually, after even more back-and-forth, measuring, trying on and adjusting, Feisal actually let go of a content smile as he stepped back and admired his latest handiwork.
Tyrael was now wearing a padded brown cuirass that reached down to the middle of his thighs. He had a wide red belt around his torso to bind the cuirass down, on the front his besagew, the former armpit-armor glimmered. He had specifically asked Feisal to integrate that into his outfit somehow – that one stubborn piece of armor had remained with him even as he fell to Sanctuary, and he had no intentions of leaving it behind now.
Being sentimental for a part of armor, he smiled bittersweetly to himself at the thought, but did nothing to act against it.
Under the cuirass he wore a long thin robe (thobe), baggy trousers (sirwal) and sturdy travelling boots. The only armored pieces he had was a richly adorned collar and two short but sturdy shoulder guards sticking out on either side of it. His vambrances were made of leather and were adorned with some simple almost flower-shaped gold plates. From behind his besagew a thinner and looser belt circled around his waist, ready for any kind of scabbard to be hung onto it. What surprised Tyrael the most, was that despite the many layers of clothing, he did not feel neither weighed down, nor hot. He could easily move around in the robes fitted to his form.
Quiet had been a bit of a surprise for him. The child received much more civilian clothing, a simple white thobe, similar baggy pants and travelling boots to his, and a long adorned coat Feisal called a bisht to top it all off. When Quiet had been asked to put on the thobe, Tyrael realized he had no damn idea how they would make it work with the little angel's wings. He couldn't just ask the tailor to cut random holes into the back of the clothes! But just when he was about to fall into his infamous "panicked plan making" habit, Quiet's wings simply phased through the textile, undisturbed in any way. Tyrael couldn't help the silent but relieved breath he let out at the sight of that. The child was overjoyed over the new and fancy clothes, he couldn't stop admiring himself in the big mirror in front of him.
- Pretty coat! Thank you! – Quiet nodded to Feisal who let go of a faint smile at this.
Tyrael reckoned Inarius' vanity somehow survived into this new life. Why wasn't he surprised by this at all?
Just when they were done, Feisal stopped for a moment and examined Quiet's mysterious black dagger that was resting on top of a smaller wardrobe.
- You carry this around in such a horrendous way?! – he whipped his head back to his clients angrily.
- I'm… sorry? – Tyrael blinked.
- This is an Undertaker, sir! – the tailor gestured at the frankly evil-looking dagger Lyndon had given to Quiet, not long before their unfortunate separation. – A type of weapon meant to combat necromancer magic! It is a delicate work of art and you carry it around in a simple leather sheath?!
To the even more blank staring he received, Feisal let out a dramatic sigh and massaged his forehead.
- You did not know that, sirs?
- N-no? I have never heard of such weapons before – Tyrael glanced at the knife.
- I… got it as a gift from Leendonn – Quiet said in a small voice. – He told me to use it to defend myself if he is not around.
Grumbling under his nose, Feisal once again disappeared into the forest of clothes before returning with a curious scabbard that looked like a weird patchwork of pale human skin and snake scales of a dark brown color. He gently slid the dagger, as if it was made of eggshells, into its new sheath and fitted it onto Quiet's thobe-belt under his coat. Immediately the sheath shimmered and almost melted into the cloth behind it, making it difficult to spot.
- I have dabbled in enchanted weaponsmithing back in Caldeum, before choosing to be a tailor here – Feisal explained with sudden calmness. – The Undertaker weapons had been developed by Kehjistan magicians and civilians who were afraid of the necromancers dwelling in the neighboring jungles. They are designed specifically to negate and disrupt the magic of those infidels. Usually a few stabs from these are enough to send the largest and meanest monster they can conjure up back to the grave.
- I… take it they are difficult to produce? – Tyrael glanced at the weapon.
He could not help but recall that strange moment in the Bramwell cemetery, when he saw Quiet literally cutting open the dark haze that had held him captive. As if the foul magic had been made out of fine butter, nothing more.
- Yes, quite – Feisal's face darkened. – Their secret died with their inventors, but I'd bet they had bloody creations. Eventually most were destroyed… or disappeared into the vast world of Sanctuary, like this one. Traditionally they had scabbards made out of Snake Demon skin, to conceal them and to protect them from magic. At least those unholy things had one use in this world.
Tyrael personally did not approve of the idea of making an already insidious dagger even more dangerous with a camouflage sheath. But considering the foe they were facing, and how the bastard was seemingly out to get Quiet for some unexplainable reason, he did not raise any objections. Anything that would help them finally get that demon off their backs and hopefully kill it, he would accept within reasonable limits.
The service was expensive, just as Utho had warned them, but Tyrael could not find the strength in himself to complain about it. With the clothes-shopping out of the way, there was only one thing left to do – checking out the market. The sun, however, has just passed its zenith, so the city fell silent for a few hours from the heat. Tyrael found it better to find a tea house and pass the time there until everything went back to normal. He was getting sick and tired of badly brewed beer anyway, tea was so simple yet so exotic in taste. Maybe he should buy a few bags of leaves to bring back to Sophie, now that he thought about it. He could send it back alongside his letters, so it wouldn't inevitably get destroyed on the road.
Yes, that sounded like a solid plan.
The tea house they had chosen (via Quiet frantically pointing at the nicely curtained windows and yanking on Tyrael's arm the whole time) was a small but cozy. It was dark and silent, but in a calming, almost meditative way. The heavily carpeted walls and floor swallowed all noise, their purple color provided the mystical aura. The welcoming hall was small, but stuffed to the gill with cupboards almost collapsing under tea sets, tea leaves, spices, fruits and hookah of infinite colors and adornments. They were arranged in a half-circle around a larger space meant for preparing tea, with three metal plate fireplaces, spoons and measures. All of this was walled off by a surprisingly short counter that barely reached up to Quiet's chest. Of course the air was dominated by incense here as well, but Tyrael was getting used to it. A contently smiling old lady sat behind the counter on the largest cushion the mortal angel had ever seen. She was dressed in a couple layers of shawls and robes, measuring some leaves and spices with a golden set of scales.
- Blessings come your way, wise lady! – Tyrael bowed slightly.
- Ah, blessings to you as well, young man, and to you, little one – the shopkeeper smiled up at them.
- Hello! You are old! – Quiet waved at her, blurting that unwanted comment out before Tyrael could stop him.
- I am indeed! – the old lady laughed. – The gods had blessed me with a long happy life. I have no qualms with my lot. Now, children, what would you like on this sunny day?
- We would like to spend the time here drinking until the heat subsides. And… also, I would like to buy a bag of leaves to send back to my fi—girlfriend – Tyrael said, stumbling on the last word harshly.
- Ahh, young ladies deserve a spell of flowers and fruits – the old lady smiled and nodded. – Or do you have something specific in mind, sir?
- No, not really. I am not that well-versed in the art of tea. Whatever you deem best for us and for her – Tyrael shook his head.
- Very well. Please go inside and take a seat in one of the rooms. I shall bring you the drinks and a specially made selection for your loved one.
On the left side a bit tight opening led them to a short corridor and a couple of rooms connected to it. They all had cushions in them instead of chairs, arranged in a circle around a larger metal disk that functioned as the table. If possible, these rooms were carpeted even heavier, making them great private spots once the door was closed. Tyrael and Quiet settled into the farthest room, comfortably finding their places on the cushions and awaiting their drinks.
- Teeriel? What were those funny pretty towers? – Quiet asked, absentmindedly looking around in the small room with the even smaller but heavily laced window looking out onto the empty street.
- Tow—Oh you mean the hookah?
- Huuuka! Funny word!
- Yes – Tyrael grinned in agreement. – Hookah are a special kind of… pipe, almost. Grownups use them to smoke.
- Smoke?
- They inhale and exhale a special kind of smoke from a plant or spice or something else. It's… a strange custom.
- Why they do that?
- "Why do they do that".
- Fine fine.
- I honestly do not know, Quiet – Tyrael shrugged. – There are certain human customs I do not really understand to this day. I reckon it helps them relax, in a strange way.
Quiet furrowed his brow and stared before himself, trying to picture the scene. Tyrael personally hated smoking, it left just the most disgusting odors behind which he just couldn't for the life of him ignore. It reminded him too much of the stench of the Hells at times. Granted, here in the east they often used spices to mask that odor, with the occasional success.
A few minutes passed, and he thought he heard really muffled voices from the corridor. Quiet snapped his head back at the door, then turned back to Tyrael:
- Utho is here! – he happily exclaimed.
- Wait, Uth—?!
Right on cue, the door opened with a creak and the fat innkeeper stuck his head in sheepishly.
- Greetings, good sir. I am… so terribly sorry for the interruption, but… may I come in? – he asked, his ever-present smile now nowhere to be found.
So something did happen last night, the thought immediately flashed across Tyrael, and he nodded after a moment of surprise.
Quiet happily scuttled over to give him space and Utho, bearing a large tray of hot steaming tea and a bag of assorted leaves, petals and dry fruits, uncertainly settled down. He placed his gifts on the metal disk among them and drew back silently. Everything about him screamed nervousness and tension, he hid his hands in his sleeves, his back hunched, his posture defensive. Tyrael could only imagine what had happened. Blackmail? Death threats? Something Utho could not talk out in the open, for certain.
The silence stretched uncomfortably long, nobody touched their cups. Quiet kept staring at Tyrael then at Utho, then back again, clearly confused.
- So… who has threatened you? – the mortal angel decided to break the ice finally.
- Wha—what? – Utho snapped his head up, blinking as if he had just woken up.
- Someone had threatened you last night, correct? – Tyrael offered, forcing himself to pour some tea for everyone, trying to project a strong and collected aura. – That is why you have been so nervous in the morning. My offer to help still stands. What is it that ails you?
Utho let out a bitter chuckle at this, fidgeting in place.
- I see why you would think that, Tyrael sir. But now, there is no threat or blackmail involved, I assure you. Thank you for your kindness but… it is something else.
- Demons? Undead? A curse? – Tyrael kept guessing, slightly confused now.
- No, no! – Utho shook his head adamantly, before stopping and taking the deepest breath possible. – Oh, Anu help me now.
- Did you say—?
The innkeeper's form suddenly flashed up and "exploded" into flakes of light that filled the room and gently fell to the ground like feathers, just to disappear altogether. In the place of the fat man now sat…
- Uthomael, Dagger of the Fate angels reporting, my lord. I am so… terribly sorry.
oooOOOooo
Quiet couldn't help but chuckle at the face Teeriel made when Utho blew up. It was funny, those big eyes and open mouth.
The fat happy man was no longer fat, or happy, or a man. He was sitting taller than Teeriel, he had no visible face, just like Quiet, only not even his eyes could be seen. He had a white hood and a white scarf on his head, a lot of leather belts and stuff in his grey-green clothes, a llllot of knives all over his body, and two bright green big wings of light that now rested on the floor behind him.
- You look nicer like this – Quiet stated matter-of-factly.
- Utho-MAEL?! – Teeriel screeched in a funny high voice.
- Y—yes sir. I have a… confession to make.
- Damn right, you do! I thought you were killed out in Pandemonium, what happened?!
-… You remember me, sir?
- Of course I do! The first Dagger angel to ask to be trained under Justice instead of Valor in centuries, that rings quite the bell!
Uthomael sounded very confused, Quiet could tell. Not with only his words, but there was a soft music coming from him that Quiet could hear and understand. Teeriel sounded like he knew this angel, and was more very very surprised than actually angry. At least he didn't sound angry to Quiet. Wonder if the angel heard it too?
- I trained you, you went out on a couple of successful missions, then you just disappeared and we all believed you were killed! – Teeriel went on, now sounding a bit angry admittedly. – What even happened, Uthomael?!
- I, uh… met my wife during a mission… sir – the angel mumbled, shrinking back.
Teeriel glared at him then turned to Quiet who picked up his cup and was drinking the strange liquid slowly. Of course he had asked the water not to be that hot first.
- You did no—not know? – the little angel blinked with honest bewilderment. – Carala feels like Adenah to me.
- You—you sensed us, child?! – Utho stared at him as well.
- Yes, it was very easy.
- I… I thought I had the perfect disguise for us…
- It most certainly fooled me – grumbled Teeriel, before dragging his palm across his face. – By Anu, I cannot wait to hear this one.
- I apologize, my lord – Uthomael ducked his head slightly, before straightening out. – During a mission to track down and take out Hell General Illahax some three hundred and forty years ago, I have met a sakkiubus—
- A sakkiubus?!
- Y-yes sir.
- What's a sakkiubus? – Qiuet asked.
- Better you do not know – Teeriel grumbled.
- My lord, she—Carala, I mean, she is different from her sisters – Uthomael said quickly. – She had been a slave in that encampment and wanted out. We worked together that day. She had made sure my cover wasn't blown and even helped me get to the General and kill him. After that she disappeared into Pandemonium for a few years, but we, uhm… we stayed in touch. She spied on the demonic movements and relayed them to me and my comrades so we could navigate more safely. In return, I made sure she would not get caught in the crossfire of skirmishes.
- And you fell in love with her – Teeriel sighed very very loudly, massaging his forehead. He no longer sounded angry.
- Y-yes, sir – Uthomael tugged at his many belts around his chest. – We could work well together, even if for different reasons, but eventually we found many traits in common. Such as… our interest in Sanctuary. Then a peaceful life down here came up as a joke… until we put more thought into it.
- So you became a Renegade – Teeriel said very harshly.
Quiet frowned. He did not fully understand that word, but… there was something about it he definitely did not like!
- Renegade sounds mean! – he interrupted angrily. – Utho is friendly, don't be mean to him!
- Quiet, you have no idea what is going on right now.
- S—sir, I fully take responsibility for my desertion – Utho quickly chimed in. – But I am no traitor to the High Heavens, I assure you! When I heard news of the demonic invasion led by the Prime Evil, I and Carala slipped inside the City and did our best to assist from the shadows. I hunted down powerful targets… that is, until the Arch nearly got shattered and I lost my wings. Carala mostly used her charms to distract demons from fleeing civilians and the wounded, before taking them out. Should the need truly arise, I am ready to defend the Silver City with my life! But besides that, I… wished to have a life by Carala's side, sir.
Teeriel hung his head and leaned on his knees with his elbows. He sighed again (he sighed a lot lately, was he okay?).
- I… apologize for the deception just now, my lord. But… I do not apologize for making this decision – Uthomael finished.
- Why are you telling me this? You could have kept up the disguise easily – Teeriel looked at him.
- It did not feel right, sir. You and your court have taught me well, regardless of what my Valor-trained brothers and sisters may say. Lying in the face of my former mentor of truth and justice sounded like a cruel joke, at best.
Silence settled back in. Quiet finally saw an opening in this very confusing and barely understandable conversation.
- Are you called a "Dagger" because you have many knives on you? – he asked, pointing at the belts.
- No, little one – Uthomael shook his head. – I am a Dagger because I hunt demons and monsters from the shadows, not out in an open battle. You are… awfully calm about this for a human child.
- Because I am an aaaangel! – Quiet proudly exclaimed, despite Teeriel's shout to stop.
Uthomael stared at him for a second then reared back quickly, almost falling off of his pillow.
- A dwarf angel?! – he gasped.
- Oh gods damnit! – Teeriel buried his face in his hands.
He sounded like he wanted to get angry but was too tired for it, much to the surprise of Quiet. Teeriel was very good at getting angry very quickly.
- Alright then, now that everyone blurted out their secrets – he said in a very annoyed voice and took a long sip from his cup. – How about we agree that none of it leaves this room?
Utho kept staring at Quiet who found it very weird. Was it something he said?
- Why are you so small?! – he blurted out finally. – Is the light of the Arch fading?!
- No, it is not fading – Teeriel grumbled.
- I was much smaller not long ago – Quiet straightened out proudly. – But I am growing! Leendonn told me I was a big boy now!
- Uthomael, do I have your word that you will not pass this on? – Teeriel interrupted. – In return, we will promise we shall not tell your secret.
- Yes, sir! Absolutely! I take whatever oath you ask me to – Utho snapped his head back towards the bald man.
- I… first just—let's make something clear – Teeriel gathered his thoughts. – I am not demanding an oath from you, because I'd hold misgivings about your choice. I have given up my wings for this world, I am the last person to cast stones.
- I have heard rumors of that. I personally find it inspiring, my lord. If you do not mind.
- Why did you give up your wings? – Quiet asked, interested in this new information.
- That… is a story for another time, Quiet.
- Everything is a story for another time, no fair! – the little angel shrieked angrily, crossing his arms and turning away.
Teeriel was so stoopid at times!
- I am asking for your oath, Uthomael, in order to keep myself and Quiet here safe – Teeriel went on. – We have a few… enemies whom we would like to avoid as much as possible.
-… That black smudge? – Utho suddenly asked.
- You see it too? – Quiet gasped.
- That is some kind of necromancer demon. We have clashed already a few times. He is… persistent – Teeriel growled, that last word sounding almost like a very bad word only adults could say.
- There is something off about it, sir – the angel admitted. – I have noticed soon after you have arrived and claimed your room. I have been keeping an eye on it ever since. It is demonic, yet there is… something else there. It is difficult to fully pinpoint, however.
- And he is not the only one. That is why we need your aid to stay safe. Can I count on you for that? – Tyrael asked.
- I swear upon every light fiber of my wings and all the songs the Arch has ever sung or will ever sing that I shall not breathe a word about this to anyone! – Utho said very very seriously, opening his very nice wings wide and crossing his arms in an X in front of his chest. – May I die and never come back, should I break this oath.
- And we swear with the same severity – Teeriel mimicked the gesture and gently poked Quiet to do the same. –, that we will keep yours and your wife's true nature a secret from anyone and everyone in all of Creation.
- Yeah, we swear! – Quiet quickly nodded many times, trying to look as serious as possible, even puffing up his cheeks.
He could hear mirth and relief coming from Uthomael and that made him smile. Did they just make a new friend? Probably.
With that out of the way, Teeriel sighed tiredly and poured more hot tea for himself.
- Why Lut Bahada? – he asked then.
- It just seemed like a nice place to settle, sir. No particular reason – Utho shrugged, changing back into the fat human and taking his cup finally. – We moved in roughly a century ago and had been trying to improve and protect the city ever since. There had been a… disturbing invasion almost a year ago we had managed to shield the city from. I am certain you know more of that…
- You deflected the Reeeperzz?! – Teeriel asked very surprised.
- That was their name? Fitting – Utho grumbled. – But yes sir, I and Carala saw their advance throughout Sanctuary, so we had woven a spell of both angelic and demonic magic to hide the city from their prying eyes. I had to… call in a few favors from the Library of Fate to get the necessary incantations and spells. But we made it work, somehow, and the locals are oblivious to those events to this day.
-… Do you know what those creatures were?
- No, sir. They looked horrible and vile, even worse than demons somehow. I wish to do nothing with them.
- They were Wisdom angels. What's left of them, anyway. And they were led by Maltael.
Utho seemed to freeze to his pillow. Quiet could feel anger rise in him at the mention of those bad ugly angels.
- Maltael is mean and stooopid! – he shouted angrily. – He hurt and killed a lot of people! Leendonn told me he became very bad and he wanted to kill everyone! But Leendonn and his friends stopped him from doing that.
- The Firstborn… wh—what happened to him? – Utho stammered, looking very scared.
- He had gone mad, possibly from staring for too long into the Chaliss and from his goal to end the Etternal Konflict by any means necessary – Teeriel sighed. – As to what have happened to him after he had been overpowered by some miracle… The jury is still out on that one. I wish I had the answers but I do not and that does not fill me with peace.
- The Firstborn, fallen to corruption… Anu save us now – Utho ducked his head, looking very very sad.
Quiet sniffled angrily. Maltael did not deserve to be sad about! He was mean, and probably ugly too, like that six-armed angel near Wezztmarch!
- His fall to madness was a great loss indeed. But with him gone, we have gained some modicum of peace for Sanctuary, bitter and short as it may be – Teeriel nodded.
- Good riddance – Quiet grumbled under his nose, too softly for the adults to hear.
- But you saved the entire city, Uthomael – Teeriel went on.
- Yes sir. This is our home and these people are our friends. We have witnessed entire generations grow up and live their lives here. Part of me wishes we could have done more for all of Sanctuary, but I also understand we did what we could in that situation.
- And that is all everyone is asking – Teeriel agreed. – Good job, Uthomael. I am relieved to see my teachings did not go to waste.
- Never, sir! I proudly wear the mark of Justice!
By this point, Quiet was getting very confused with all these "justice" and "fate" and "valor" things. Those two made it sound like they were people. Quiet was pretty sure they weren't people.
- What are those? – so he asked.
- What do you mean? – Teeriel looked at him.
- Justice and Fate and Valor. What are those?
- Do you mean to ask about the angels, little one? – Utho tilted his head to the side. – Do you not know of the High Heavens?
- I know that it's shiny and big!
- He is… an interesting case, never been to the Silver City – Teeriel quickly said.
- I… strange, but I reckon it is not my place to know, sir – Utho frowned slightly before turning back to Quiet finally. – Little one, there are five big… groups, shall we say, among the angels. They are called Valor, Wisdom, Hope, Fate and Justice. Each group follows an archangel of that same title, and each group has many kind of angels in it, all serving a specific purpose.
- Purpose?
- Tasks, work that needs to be done by somebody – Teeriel translated.
- I belong to the Fate angels, but I am also a Dagger who is a type of hunter. However, there are many kinds of Fate angels who cannot fight or hunt as well as I do. They have other tasks.
- And since Fate is usually not about fighting, Daggers tend to go to one of the other groups to learn it – Teeriel took over. – Most Daggers go to Valor, since Valor angels are the best and bravest warriors. Very rarely there are angels who break tradition by choosing a different group as teachers. Uthomael chose my group, Justice.
- Why? – Quiet asked.
- Justice angels are good warriors too, but they are less… loud and angry all the time, so to speak – Utho shrugged. – Also, I have always believed that I cannot be a good hunter without ideals and morals to hold onto in the face of danger. And there is no better place to learn those than in the Courts of Justice.
- What are ideals and morals?
- Things you believe in, things you are ready to stand your ground for, no matter the opposition – Utho said.
- I always stand on the ground – Quiet frowned, confused.
- "Standing your ground" means you are not fleeing or abandoning something or someone you care about. It can be an actual object or a person, or a… a thought, like most ideals are. It means no matter how many people or monsters attack you for that thing, you keep defending it – Teeriel explained.
- Unfortunately, there are people, angels and humans alike, and a lot of them no less, who often talk very loudly and proudly about their ideals… but when they are put to the test, to see if they truly believe in them, they run and hide like cowards, abandoning them – Utho shook his head. – It is always a disappointing sight to see. Especially since these people are also not brave or strong enough to realize what they had done. So they repeat the same mistakes over and over again, and we call them hipokrites: people who say one thing but often do the exact opposite of that.
- But how can you abandon a thought? Isn't it in your head? – Quiet blinked.
- Very easily, sadly – Teeriel smiled sadly. – For example, I believe that the strong should protect the weak. That is one of my ideals. So if I saw someone being attacked, I will rush there and protect them. But if I saw it happen and I do nothing, or worse yet, I turn around and run away because I got skerred, or even worse, I join the attackers to beat up that poor man, then I have abandoned my ideals. That is all it takes.
- But why do they have ideals then, if they don't want to keep it?
- Because everyone wants to be the hero, little one – Utho said sadly. – We all want to believe we are brave and strong and that we fight for a good cause. And so many people do not know that having ideals is only the starting point. Sticking to them no matter the situationb, making them better as you learn and listen more to other people, those are the true task. And it is often difficult and even painful to do.
- Do I have ideals? – Quiet wondered aloud, staring at the ceiling, one finger resting on his chin.
- You are too young for those yet – Utho laughed. – But as you grow and learn more, you will be able to decide on them.
- The most important thing for you at this age is to learn not to be a hipokrite. To keep your promiss-es. To really mean and do what you say, even if it is hard to do it – Teeriel advised.
- I promiss-d Leendonn I will see him soon! I will keep that! – Quiet exclaimed, determined.
- I don't know who Leendonn is, but that is a good start, indeed – Utho smiled.
- So if Maltael was good once, is he a hipokrite now?
That gave a heavy pause for both adults, they shared an uncomfortable glance.
-I—I cannot possibly say – Utho ducked his head.
- He is. It pains me to say it, but yes, he is – Teeriel lamented, staring down at his tea. – We are not above criticism, Uthomael, it is fine.
- Sir…
- Maltael had been Wisdom, and wisdom is about listening, understanding even those who are of opposite opinions. It is about gathering knowledge, experiences and points of view, to be able to make good decisions. But he had shut the world out of his life. He had had a collection of beliefs and knowledge, and he had stuck to those stubbornly, unable to open up to other ideas and treat them as equals. He had believed himself superior and those who thought different, were beneath him and as such, unworthy of his attention. It all had led to him believing that Death was the only thing that mattered, and the only thing that could be used to end the Etternal Konflict. Right up until the very moment of his own downfall, he kept thinking he was still walking the path of Wisdom… but they were worlds apart. And it was torturous and horrifying to witness.
- I am… so terribly sorry, my lord – said Uthomael very very softly.
Even Quiet fell silent, his anger receding a bit as he thought long and hard about all this. He could not say he understood this big picture just yet, but he started to have an idea. And honestly… it started to make him sad rather than angry now. It seemed it made Teeriel very sad too.
- It is… alright. Both the Heavens and Sanctuary survived, that is what matters the most – Teeriel waved it away tiredly. – Seeing my brother's state, I can say without a shadow of doubt that killing him had been an act of mercy. Should—when he comes back, I hope we can reconnect with him, and maybe even right our many wrongs along the way together.
- He is the Firstborn, he has to come back soon! Right, my lord? – Utho sputtered nervously.
-… Let us hope so.
Quiet thought about that ugly six-armed angel and how he had blabbered about "the Arch not allowing him through", and how Teeriel told him that the Arch created angels. That did not sound very promising when put together, but the little angel kept quiet about it. Teeriel probably didn't say it for a reason, either.
- And where are you headed, sir? – Utho tried to change the subject.
- To the deep jungles of Kehjistan.
- Kehjistan? – Utho sounded worried.
- Adenah said it is a bad place. But I must go! – Quiet quickly chimed in, really not wanting to repeat this conversation again.
- Y-you?
- It is… complicated, Uthomael. Trust me, it is better if you don't know the details – Teeriel rolled his eyes. – But yes, we have little choice but to go there. I am not overly excited about it, either.
- It is going to be difficult to find a ship in Lut Golein, sir. Kehjistan's collapse shook that port to its foundations. Some fiefdoms on the shoreline try to keep some semblance of connection with the West. But it is less than nothing compared to the former flow of goods and people. Lut Golein is wilting already.
- Great, more good news…
- This is good news? – Quiet looked at Teeriel.
- No, I meant it sarcastically. But we will figure out the solution to that once we actually get to the city. First, we need to cross the desert.
- I've never been to the desert!
- It will be tiring and challenging, little one – Utho said carefully. – But there are still caravans regularly coming and going, in fact I think one will leave for Lut Golein tomorrow. They are accepting travelers and traders, as long as they help out along the journey. That is your safest bet, sir.
- Then that is what we will do. Thank you, Uthomael – Teeriel accepted.
- Of course, sir.
With that, the three of them finally got around to finishing the tea. Quiet did not know if he liked it or not. It was mostly water but he could feel strange tastes in it, maybe even some kind of fruit? He did not know how that all worked. Teeriel looked into the little bag he had gotten, looking surprised at its contents.
- Well, I do hope Sophie will like dried flower petals, cinnamon and apple slices – he mumbled to himself.
- In tea, the most unlikely tastes may work the best together, sir. I think she will love it – Utho smiled.
After paying the nice old lady, they stepped out onto the hot streets again. Quiet could feel more and more people moving around among and in the houses, and he was feeling more energetic as a result.
Lut Bahada was properly waking up for the rest of the day, it seemed.
Utho bid them farewell, giving some last advice on how to spot and avoid skammers (whatever that meant).
- No more purse stealing, Quiet! – Teeriel said seriously in a low voice as they headed towards the market.
- Fine fiiiine – the little angel grumbled, rolling his eyes.
- I mean it, Quiet!
- Alright, alright! I won't take purses.
- That's better – Tyrael nodded briskly. – Now… let's go see the famous bazaars of the East.
Tea houses, bringing people together since forever!
Now for the important news I promised you in the foreword note.
This October will mark the 3rd Anniversary of That First Spark. On the 15th of October 2017 I have uploaded the very first chapter onto , when I hadn't even known it would grow into a multi-chapter story, especially one of this size. I wish to celebrate it properly and hopefully gain some luck for the future of this project. So I have decided that this year's Inktober will be dedicated to That First Spark (and some general Diablo stuff, probably) from start to finish!
For those who do not know, Inktober is a yearly challenge for drawing artists. For every day of October there is a keyword and you draw something related to or inspired by that word. It can be difficult to complete, but I will do my absolute best to do so. I will post all pictures into my DeviantArt gallery, my art blog and TFS's development blog on Tumblr (links below).
Besides a flood of new drawings and sketches, this will also mean that the usual upload schedule will get a bit shaken up this fall. This chapter is part of a Tactical Double Upload, precisely so that I may be able to preserve the monthly updates throughout this time. In order to achieve that, I have split up this monster of a chapter into two (yes, it was much longer than this). This first part you have read just now will be followed by a second chapter in a few days, somewhere in the beginning September, fulfilling the quota for that month as well. Of course this might result in slightly more misspellings and grammatical errors than usual, given the tight schedule to fit everything. You are welcome to point those out so I can fix them!
All this will (hopefully) result in me being able to start immediately working on the October chapter and post that one in the beginning of October (again, hopefully). This will result in me having more time and opportunity to deal with Inktober that month, so neither my drawing nor my writing will suffer from lack of free time (again again, hopefully).
TL;DR: September chapter coming in a few days, October chapter at the beginning of the month, the rest is Inktober flood of drawings about Diablo, mostly about That First Spark. That's the plan, anyway. Third birthday incoming, LET'S GOOOOO!
Links to keep checking in October:
- DeviantArt: www-.-deviantart-.-com/kenyizsu
- Artblog: www-.-kenyizsuartblog-.-tumblr-.-com
- TFS blog: www-.-diablo-that-first-spark-.-tumblr-.-com
And if you like what you see, you are most welcome to stay!
Thanks for reading, cupcakes! :3 See you in a few days!
Lore & Trivia Corner
- "No capes!": Must I spell it out? Don't we all know where that is from? :3
- The calendar of Sanctuary: within the Book of Adria, we have finally gotten the names of the months and their significance in magic and everyday life (awesome bit, btw). Esunar is the month of elemental powers, when a strong connection between magic and the physical world is formed, and it is the ideal time to create amulets and enchantments. Ostara is the month of rebirth when healing spells and elixirs work the strongest.
- New outfits: I do actually have the new outfits designed, you can check them out either in my DA gallery or on the TFS blog. Funnily enough, the first version of Tyrael's new style did involve a cape, but I have decided to scrap it (and turn it into a joke in the meantime). Of course both clothes are based on Arabian medieval outfits, Tyrael's on army uniforms and Quiet's on civilian robes. I got the names of some the clothing from that research. And yeah, the ever-prominently displayed besagew (armpit-armor) of Tyrael's had to stay in the composition. That is his trademark at this point.
- The Undertaker: Since me being a Discovery Writer is common knowledge, I believe I am not really shocking everyone when I say that the black dagger gifted to Lyndon by Luther the Treasure Goblin had gone through a lot of ideas and intended purposes. None seemed to stick, however, until we arrived at Act III, with Quiet brandishing it. This group of weapons is entirely my idea, but given the Sanctuary-wide distrust and hatred towards necromancers, I do think it makes sense in-universe.
- Snake Demons aka Deceivers are the followers of Belial. They are amazing shapeshifters and camouflage users, and some of the bastards even have formidable magic at their disposal. They had practically overrun Caldeum during Belial's hidden rule, posing as guards, servants and ordinary people. However, considering how random demons can just pop up on Sanctuary, either by themselves or with the help of Mage #55678 Who Never Fucking Learns, it is safe to assume that some of these little shits have been here for longer than that (probably even acting as spies for Belial before his takeover). This kind of demon also has the uncanny ability of being found in actual real life, although they doggedly hold onto their human forms. I am sure we all know at least a few of them. Don't deny it.
- Daggers: yet another subtype of Fate angel I have come up with. You can read more about them here:
www-.-deviantart-.-com-(slash)-kenyizsu-(slash)-art-(slash)-D3-Angelic-Subspecies-Fate-834383266
They are the assassins of the Angelic Host, trained to take out high-profile enemies such as generals or captains. They are quite unique with their ambush- and stealth-based combat within the army, and their work often means the difference between victory and defeat in the Eternal Conflict.
