I absentmindedly reach my fingers to my cheek to scratch it, only to again be made aware of the goggles I am now wearing. It is yet another symptom of my monstrous instincts getting the best of me.
We approach a three-story cobblestone house whose bottom story is a pub. It's just a few hundred meters from Bluesteel's gigantic spike-tipped walls. One of Bluesteel's military tunnels runs directly underneath the pub. During peacetime, the tunnel has become rather neglected by city officials. This makes it possible to enter the city out of sight of city guards, hence the name 'side entrance.'
Dan's not worried, but he should be. We are going to need all the help we can get to pass through the 'side entrance' without any trouble. Several gangs monitor the tunnel. Some are out for blood. Even if Dan gets through the tunnel peacefully, chances are there are a few folks in the pub who are sober enough to remember us passing through. Most are just as shady as Dan and most wouldn't bat an eye, but there are always exceptions. A half-blood and a limp body are two things rather hard to forget.
Dan opens the double oak door. The scent of redstone and hog dung intrudes into my nostrils. The dark room is clamoring with voices. The husky Sunshine stands so close to Dan that her fur pushes against his robe. Each of us holds the reins to one of the hogs; the hog I manage has Fristad tied to it.
I let Cousin walk in and do the dirty work. Rather than walk towards the watchmen at the back of the room where the tunnel entrance is located, he detours towards the counter and motions for some 'stone.
He is quickly presented with a sealed bottle. I was not aware the pub did wholesale. Dan pulls coins from beneath his robe and hands them to the bartender.
He holds the bottle demonstratively as he walks towards me. It is a bottle of rank brew, one of the strongest redstone drinks. "One for the road?" he says.
"Are you out of your mind?" I say.
"Nope," he says sheepishly. He unscrews the cap, tilts the bottle over his head, and takes a big gulp.
"How can you be drinking at a time like this?" I scorn. "We're about to transport a gravely injured man through gang territory, among other horrible things."
"Don't worry. I'm not going to fire magic missiles at anyone, and I am well aware of the gravity of Fristad's injury." Dan takes another gulp.
"You say that now, but the rank hasn't kicked in yet," I warn. I don't bother mentioning that 'magic missile' is not a real spell. Hopefully he meant it in jest.
"You should have a little more faith in me, Jonas." Dan demonstratively puts the bottle of rank in a leather bag hanging from one of the hogs. "I can control myself. I'm a big boy."
I sigh deeply, hoping I wasn't the only reason that Dan put the rank away. "I just wish you would take these sorts of matters more seriously."
Dan says not a word, but instead walks to the back of the room where the watchmen are. Of course he would ignore me like that. The watchmen stare at Dan, frowning threateningly. Dan pulls out a small metal trinket from a pocket, and in an instant they grin widely, as if Dan's a trusted family friend.
Ridiculous.
They of course let us through. I tighten my grip on the reins of my hog and follow Dan to the entrance of a wooden stairwell. Dan has to bend his head down a little to fit inside.
The stairs lead down into a dark, humid space lit only by redstone torches and the occasional lamp. It's especially dark with my goggles on. A few wooden shacks lean against the tunnel walls, but there are no stone buildings or modifications to the tunnel itself. How strange.
The city must have hired mages to ward the walls to keep miners from messing with it. Perhaps if I was still human, I would be able to sense the wards myself, but I have no choice but to ask Dan if I truly want to affirm their existence.
"Do you sense any wards, Cousin?" I ask.
"Very much so," says Dan. "I believe they are against rock penetration and geomorphy. They are strong ones, too. It must have taken years to complete them. Why do you ask?"
"Because I am just as interested in the structure of the tunnel as yourself," I say. "I suspected there was a ward, given the construction of the buildings here."
Much of our journey through the tunnel goes smoothly. We come across two groups of armed men, but both groups ignore us. I can now even see brighter light ahead of us.
But then a group of five people wearing hooded red robes approach us. One of them walks in front of Dan, blocking his path.
"Where do you think you're going?" he says. "This is a military tunnel. Unauthorized entry by civilians is illegal. Under Bluesteel law we are required to arrest you."
"You better watch out," Dan says, "I know a magic missile spell that can knock an ordinary Minecrafter off their feet and propel them five meters away."
What is Dan thinking, threatening another mage with a fairytale spell? He's making us look like a couple of fools!
"We are professional military magi and we outnumber you more than two to one," the man in front says. "Your magic missile spells are no match for us. You'd best cooperate peacefully."
"Is that so?" Dan inquires, a knowing smile barely visible in his shadowed face.
"Daisy, Dustface, search the hogs," says the man in front.
"Aye, aye," one of them says.
"What unprofessional behavior for military magi..." Dan remarks.
"Cousin, what are we going to do about the hogs?" I ask. "You're not seriously going to let them near Fristad and our belongings, are you?"
"Oops. My apologies." Dan lets forth a ball of light from each hand, and they crash into the two hooded folk walking near our hogs. Both of them stumble and bend down, groaning in pain.
The three hooded folk in front of us pull their iron swords from their sheaths. I soon hear the sound of gliding metal behind us.
Dan pulls out his diamond sword, grinning smugly. "Outnumbered but not out-armed, I'm afraid. Jonas, take off your gloves."
I reluctantly do as he says and tuck my gloves into my robe pocket, exposing my sweaty hands to the open air. I can already see my use of ender magic becoming a slippery slope.
"I am a trained combat mage and my friend here is an enderman half-blood," explains Dan. "Given that you five are clearly not mages as you claim to be, I hope you realize that you are at a severe disadvantage. I am now giving you this opportunity to walk away peacefully and let us be on our way."
I curse internally. If these people really aren't mages, then why did Dan bother ordering me to take off my gloves? I am not going to waste the efforts of my suppression on some civilians that pose no threat to us.
"May I ask how you came to that conclusion?" says the man in front, amused.
"It's quite simple, really. A real mage would know that 'magic missile' is not a real spell," Dan says. "It's a name solely used in fairytale stories. Any self-respecting mage would be appalled by the use of the term. Also, real mages don't wear robes quite like those."
Dan's elaborate use of logic is a bad sign. He could have easily figured out they weren't mages by sensing their mana pool. The Rank must be impairing Dan's judgment. This is exactly what I hoped would not happen!
"So, you're one of those academic types? Notch, I hate those," says the man in front. "At least that means you're rich. All the more reason to loot you. Right, guys?"
At this point it's clear that these people don't work for the military. They are no more than dirty thieves.
"Well said," says one of the hooded folk behind us, perhaps only a meter away now.
"Before we make a huge mess here," stalls Dan, "I'll have you know I am a contractor mage. I fulfill services for some organizations you may be familiar with, but I don't take sides. Given that you may need my services in the future, it is in your best interest for us to part peacefully."
"We don't need your help," one of the female hooded folk says. "Ghasted aristocratic scum! Why can't we just kill them and be done with it?"
"Let's roast 'em!"
"Yea!"
"Shut up!" says the man in front. "The only one who gives the orders around here is me. Explain yourself, old man."
"I'm afraid I don't have much else to say. I don't discuss my clients," says Dan.
"I don't like secrets," the man in front says. "Bah, what the heck. I'm tired of waiting. Kill them both! Just don't destroy the potential merchandise."
Balls of flame materialize from the hooded folk's free hands. Turns out they were mages after all, all five of them. Dan made a huge miscalculation.
I feel the heat of the fireballs glance me before an instinctive pulse of energy snaps me into the void. The silver flames bend around my violet aura. My mind grabs onto a space of ground behind the head mage and the world snaps into place.
The light of the tunnel is inverted and strange. I feel oddly calm as my cold fingers slice through the neck beneath the fabric hood.
There is screaming, but I fear it it is my own.
As I teleport behind another hooded figure, I hesitate for a moment. I remember the ranch in Veridale. I realize I am losing an old battle I have fought so hard: a battle to save my humanity, a battle to leave behind the world of magic which has so long haunted me. With every pulse of energy, the cold liquid of ender will seep further into my veins. It won't be much longer until water starts to burn my skin.
But I kill the mage anyway. Surely it is out of necessity.
By the time I teleport behind a third mage, Cousin's sword is already poking though their back. He pulls the sword out, and the mage collapses to the ground, choking. They are the last mage to fall.
You can tell from Cousin's smile that he enjoyed the whole affair.
"Let's not linger here, shall we?" Dan says. "I do miss the daylight."
"If you are so reluctant to stay here, then why do you look like you're planning to put them in a museum?" I remark sarcastically. "You seem to take pleasure in their deaths. It's frightening if I say so myself. Fristad tried to kill me and I was forced to incapacitate him. That's not a matter to smile about, is it?" I argue.
"I simply find their stupidity amusing. They tried to kill us first; they deserved to die."
Sunshine barks nervously.
"Yes, Sunshine, I agree," says Dan, his smile waning. "Let's leave this place."
I sigh. Dan is less sane than usual, but I hold my tongue.
I wish I could blame my failing suppression on Dan's poor judgement, but that wouldn't be fair. If I hadn't made the mistakes that I did, I wouldn't be here in the first place. I am the real reason that my suppression is failing, and I hate myself for that.