Bog Standard Isekai

Brin darted out of bed and ran. He moved more out of panic than any real plan, but still thankfully had the presence of mind to leave a glass copy in his bed, just in case any of the men woke up in the commotion. As soon as he hit the doorway he turned himself invisible and sent three mirror images running in all different directions.

The Lance might get in trouble because Brin was seen running around the fortress, but he'd be in much worse trouble if Lothar caught up with him. He ran, silently and invisible, and watched Lothar with his Invisible Eye.

Lothar casually hopped down from the tower. He fell a dozen stories and landed on the ground with a crash that cracked the stones of the floor. Then he strode forward as if he'd done nothing more than skip the last two stairs on a staircase.

Brin sent his Mirror Images even further away in the hope that Lothar would follow one of them. No such luck. He marched straight towards the real Brin, who was currently invisible.

This was crazy! If nothing else, this only confirmed in his mind that Lothar really was a [Paladin]. No one should have a Skill this broken!

He reached a corridor and ran one direction, before switching tracks and going the other way, wasting time in a panic. Should he go deeper into the fortress, towards the servants quarters, or try to get out? He stopped, paralyzed by panic and indecision.

No. Think. He'd been in tougher spots than this. What did he know? Lothar had some kind of Skill that let him see through walls and let him see through illusions, even invisibility. But just because he hadn't found its limits yet didn't mean there weren't any. He needed to try something else.

He put a Mirror Image on top of himself, overlaying his real body with an illusory one. Then he created five more Mirror Images and split them all off in different directions.

Lothar paused. For the first time, he looked a bit unsure. When he started moving again, it was at a quick trot instead of a casual stroll and... yes! He was heading towards one of the doubles.

Back in the keep, Lothar reached the first Mirror Image and Brin simply dismissed it. Lothar grunted in annoyance and changed direction. This time he simply rammed through a stone wall to reach another of Brin's distractions, which he also promptly dismissed.

Brin reached the small town near outside the keep; it wasn't big enough to really hide in. He'd need to get outside. Once he was out, he could spread out his Mirror Images and hope that Lothar got bored of the chase.

And then... and then what? Lothar knew his face and that he was an [Illusionist]. He'd seen that Brin had started with his Lance. But if he got away there was a chance that Lothar would be fooled by the glass Brin in his bed and he might be persuaded that Brin had been set up or... or something. It wasn't much of a chance, but it was a chance.

Lothar picked a stone up from the ground and threw it at Brin's Invisible Eye, dispelling it. Brin decided not to create another one. He didn't really need to see where Lothar was, he just needed to get away.

He ran down the street of the small village. Only a few people were on the streets, and they didn't see anything too odd with a knight running somewhere in a hurry. Maybe they'd be more concerned if he was going in the other direction. Thankfully, he'd volunteered to be one of the two who slept in his armor, so he wasn't running around in his pajamas.

He was nearing the bridge, so he sent a Mirror Image ahead of him to run across first, just in case there was some trap or obstacle that he was missing.

The bridge was one long arch, and fashioned from white stone to look like it was all carved from one piece of marble. His mirror reached the top of the arc and then started going down the other side. Lothar wasn't in sight. He might actually make it.

There was a crash, and Brin's Mirror Image disappeared in a blur of silver and gold.

Lothar had appeared from nowhere. Had he jumped?

Either way, the jig was up. Lothar was cutting off the only means of escape. He also wasn't being careful not to use too much force when he dispelled Brin's Mirror Images. Brin hurriedly dismissed the one he'd put on top of himself and held his hands out to show he was real and unarmed.

Lothar walked towards him again, and this time Brin stepped forward to meet him in the middle.

The bridge was pretty narrow, only enough room for one cart, and the canyon underneath was so deep that Brin couldn't see the bottom, even with his darkvision.

"Brin isu Yambul. I might have known. Galan informed me somewhat concerning you" Lothar said. His voice was deep and resonant. His features were just a tad on the pretty side of manly, and he had blonde hair with just a tint of red–almost pinkish. Those were not Prinnashian features. They might have been Arcaenean features, but Brin thought he saw the Wyrd written all over his face. A mother who would do to Lothar what Aberfa tried to do to Brin wouldn't have any qualms about altering his features to make him look the part.

Brin had one last card to play. He folded his arms, and used illusion magic to project his voice instead of talking naturally. "If so, then you must know why I'd be so curious about you."

Success. Brin's illusion magic clashed with Lothar truth magic in the Wyrd, and he felt the arguments. Brin's argument was that he didn’t have any deception in mind when he used his magic to project his voice; he was just communicating. Lothar's magic didn't like that, but it also had little to argue with. More importantly, feeling the magic personally in the Wyrd was enough to update Brin's [Inspect].

Lothar of the Order of the Golden Ivory

Paladin (Legendary)

Description: Blessed of heaven, son of light, let nothing stain thy sight! Walk forward in godliness, blessed one, and cleanse the world of all unrighteousness!

Skills: Light of Truth - Lothar has the power to see through deception and strip away lies, even lies of omission.

That was the most insane Class description he'd ever seen. Legendary was a whole other level. Also, it had only showed him one Skill, which was the one he'd already figured out. The Wyrd had actually told him more than [Inspect].

[Light of Truth] could do a lot to counter lies, but it couldn't read minds. It wouldn't be able to see omissions if the other person didn't say anything--it would only tell the lie of statements that concealed more than they revealed.

It wasn't great, but Brin could work with that.

His [Illusionist] Class was already outed; that was past saving. Now Brin only had one goal: he absolutely couldn’t let slip that he knew that Lothar was a [Broken Doll]. Lumina had a plan for that secret, so they had to hide it until the right time. Everything else was negotiable.

"I can, but you should have approached me directly. I find spying unbearable," said Lothar.

Brin very carefully didn't say anything; there wasn't a single safe response to that, since Lothar was the worst kind of spy. He was a spy who didn’t know he was a spy.

"Why not just ask me what you wish to know?" Lothar asked.

"Because I'm afraid of you, obviously. And I suspect you. Many of the people I trust the most trust you completely, but you spend all your time arguing in favor of Arcaena," said Brin.

"I am not in favor of Arcaena. See here, it is the opposite! This war will favor her more than us. I could give you a hundred reasons why this war is a mistake, and have done so with a dozen men and women, but I think this would be a waste of breath in your case. I think you are more curious about our shared pasts, and fear me for another reason," said Lothar.

"This is so," said Brin. "I wanted to know where you came from. But I was afraid that if I asked you questions, you'd ask the same ones back to me. I don't want to answer those questions. One, because I swore an Oath not to speak of it, and for other reasons that I don't want to talk about."

Brin was relieved to feel through the Wyrd that Lothar's magic was satisfied. He hadn't hidden anything; he'd flat out said there were things he didn't want to talk about.

At the same time, was this enough? If Lothar told his handler about this conversation, all she would learn is that Brin knew more about his past than he wanted to admit. It wouldn’t be a big jump to assume that Brin knew the entire secret.

Lothar nodded and said, "Never fear. If you will not speak, I will not press you. As for my story, I have no reason to hide. Eleven years ago, I awoke near the eastern border of Theranor, confused and with few memories.”

Eleven years go? Aberfa had talked about her plans for Aberthol as if it were something groundbreaking, but of course she would. It would be just like Aberfa to pretend she was some huge innovator when the pinnacle of her life’s work was to copy something a sister [Witch] had already done a decade ago.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Lothar continued, “I was inside the ruined remains of a merchant caravan, dead to a man except for me. The area was also scattered with broken black shells of the Easterlings. It was thought at the time that a band of Easterling raiders destroyed the caravan, wounded me, and left me for dead. We assumed that I distinguished myself well enough during the fighting to be awarded a Class with a self-healing ability, which eventually saved my life. I know not if this is true, but I have faith that my Class was given to me for a reason. I remember very little of my life before. Faint images. Smells. But I did remember my name.” Lothar gave Brin a pointed look at that last statement.

"I... thought I remembered my name, but I was Mistaken," said Brin.

Lothar completely ignored the double meaning. "Hm, that's not quite right. More like you gave your true name, but mispronounced it. You really think that you never were Aberthol. Interesting."

Brin suppressed a wince. He could get all that from a lame attempt at a joke? [Light of Truth] was insane. This conversation was way too dangerous.

No. Wait. Had Lothar just given Brin the key to all of this. If Brin just told Lothar that he was from another world, it would prove to Lothar’s handlers that Lothar actually wasn’t like Brin. That could only work to his advantage. It would also maybe make Lothar think that he might be from another world, which was much more comforting than the truth.

“I… I can tell a little more. I visited the temple of the gods in Hammon’s Bog with my questions, and I was shown a vision of the goddess Solia. She told me that I was brought here from another world, and that I should think of myself as having my body’s age instead of how old I was before, advice which I only mostly ignored.”

“Astonishing,” Lothar said in awe. Anyone else would’ve listened to that story and been a bit skeptical, but of all people, Lothar couldn’t doubt him. “What was she like?”

“Indescribable,” said Brin. “The vision was short, because if it had lasted any longer just standing in her presence would’ve unraveled my mind. But she’s good. She’s worthy of worship.”

Lothar took a deep shuddering breath, and the two of them stood in silence for a moment while Lothar processed it.

“I haven’t even told Galan about this, Lothar,” Brin said finally.

“I understand,” said Lothar. “I do not keep secrets, but I do keep some things sacred. I will be careful in how I speak of this.”

Again, Lothar said something Brin couldn’t possibly respond to. Instead, he changed the subject back to Lothar’s history. "Did you ever find out anything about the caravan? Where they came from?"

"No. Never. It's as if they never existed," said Lothar. He shook his head. “It’s a pity. It’s such a true pity. We are so similar. Both of us with clouded pasts, and both of us touched by the gods. It saddens me to see you in this state, walking such a different life path. Galan told me your story mirrors mine and indeed it is true: looking at you is like looking in a twisted mirror that reverses my light for darkness."

"What?" Brin gasped and staggered back, as if struck. He’d bared his soul to the man, and then Lothar said something like that. But when he looked in Lothar’s eyes he didn’t see any scorn or contempt. He saw pity. That made it even worse.

"We shared similar challenges and similar opportunities, but I became Lothar of the Order of the Golden Ivory. And you became an [Illusionist]. A Class for cheap entertainment and rank deception. Worse, you hide yourself among better men, pretending to be an honest crafter," said Lothar. Even with those outrageous words, all Brin felt from his was a heart full of honest empathy.

Brin could barely breathe. "Are you really judging me for hiding my Class? You, of all people?"

Lothar flinched. "I never took [Hide Status]. King Fromost interfered with my status using a Skill of his own, and bid me not to tell. Even so, I refuse to lie. If any man asks me for my Class, I tell him true."

"What's your Class, Lothar?" Brin asked.

"I am a [Paladin]," Lothar said, meeting Brin's eyes with full confidence. Brin didn’t think someone could hold [Light of Truth] and still lie. He really didn’t know he was a [Broken Doll]. "And you?"

"I'm a [Glassbound Illusionist]," Brin said with as much pride as he could muster.

"And what am I to do with you?" Lothar asked.

Brin bit off a hundred angry remarks, because everything he could think of to attack Lothar with had to do with the secret he absolutely couldn’t share. He looked away, but the only thing to look at was the gaping black void underneath the bridge. "I never thought of [Illusionist] as a Class for telling lies. Light and sound, to me, are about communication. I want to make a world where it's easier for people to talk to each other. In the short term, though, I need to hide what I am to stay alive."

"I will not promise to lie on your behalf,” said Lothar. Then his expression softened, again full of pity. “But I can do at least this much: I'll climb to the peak of the mountains above this fortress and meditate for a time in solitude. I assume you'll continue your patrol?"

"That's the plan. Assuming that I haven't been ousted from my Lance," said Brin.

"I have no reason to speak to them before I depart; that's all I can promise. You'll head south then, towards Dusting?"

"We'll probably be there tomorrow afternoon, if it's as near as Cid thinks it is," said Brin.

"On a [Knight's] horse, you'll be there for lunch. The roast lamb stew at their public house is especially delectable," said Lothar.

"I'll give it a try," said Brin.

"Farewell, sir Brin."

"Sir Lothar," Brin said with a nod.

Brin stepped to the side for Lothar to move past. Lothar walked down the bridge and across the town, never deviating from his course.

Brin watched him go, and tried to hang onto his righteous indignation, but it faded in favor of a cold pit in his stomach. He could pretend to be above it all, but at the end of the day when you met a man like Lothar you wanted him to like you.

It didn’t help that Lothar was wrong about himself, because that wasn’t even his fault. He really should’ve been the man he thought he was.

Brin left the bridge. No one stopped him in town. At the gates to the castle, one of the guards said, "I bet you're going straight back to your room, right?"

Brin said, "That's right," and they made no attempt to bar his way.

Back at the room, everyone was still asleep; they hadn't bothered to set a watch here in friendly territory. He slipped back into bed, and only had to figure out what to do with the glass copy he'd left there. Since the glass was hollow it shrank down very well into a softball-sized ball of glass that he set on the floor.

Marksi woke when he tried to get back into bed, and bounced around trying to get him to explain where he'd gone. Brin silenced a ball around him and told Marksi all about it. When the little guy was satisfied, he curled back into bed, giving Brin a look that told him he'd better wake him up if he decided to go on any more nighttime adventures.

The next morning, his cover still wasn't blown. The servants who brought them breakfast and helped them dress were very free with gossip. They told them all about how Lothar had knocked down a couple walls for no reason and then disappeared without explanation. None of them seemed all that bothered by it, either, just another eccentricity of the world's strongest [Knight].

The Lance left the Order of the Broken Stone's fortress, and even when it was hardly a speck in the distance, Brin still felt like the other shoe was going to drop. He couldn't have actually gotten away with it, right? Lothar was going to fall down out of the sky and denounce him. Any second now.

The village of Dustrim wasn't much to look at. It was about the size of Travin's Bog, and from a couple miles away they could see the public house. It stood out as much larger and nicer than any of the other homes or businesses. Brin guessed it served merchants and travelers rather than being supported by the people in the town.

Cid asked Brin if he thought they should skip the town completely, but when Brin mentioned that he heard it was a great place for lunch, Cid decided that they could drop in.

From a distance, it was kind of strange; Brin didn't see anyone on the streets. Was it deserted? He sent Invisible Eyes ahead and was relieved to find that wasn't the case. There was a little girl playing on a doorstep there, and two men chatting at the well there, and lots of people were in their houses. A quiet town, not a deserted one.

Even so, as they got closer Brin couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with this place. From a half mile away, he was certain. That wrongness wasn't just coming from his anxiety after the conversation with Lothar last night. It was coming from his senses, one of his new ones. [Monster Sense] or... [Know What's Wyrd].

They rode on, and Brin strained his sense, trying to detect any [Witch] traps before the Lance stumbled into them.

The town didn't have much of a wall, just a short pile of stones that wrapped around the village to mark its borders. As they approached the wall, Brin was certain. A [Witch] considered this entire town her territory.

Marksi noticed at the same time as him and started gagging in disgust.

"Halt!" Brin said, and the Lance stopped.

"What is it?" Cid asked.

Brin looked down at Marksi. He had no problem giving the little guy full credit. "Are you sure?"

Marksi nodded seriously.

“I need a private conversation,” said Brin.

Cid activated the enchantment on his helm, blocking sound to the rest of the Lance.

"I don't know if it's all dragons or just Marksi, but he can sense the Wyrd," said Brin.

Cid paled. “What are you saying?"

"[Witches]," said Brin. "There's a [Witch] operating in Dustrim."

“What do we do?” asked Cid.

Brin had Cid cancel the enchantment. “Brych, come up here.”

When Brych came forward, Brin told him, “Look at this town. Does anything stand out? Is anything strange?”

At the same time, he scoured the village with his Invisible Eyes again. Yes, most of the people were in their houses, and many of them were still in bed, this late in the morning. They were sick.

None were very thin, and the morale wasn’t exactly bad. It looked like a sudden fever had hit many people in town at once.

Any thought that this might be a “good” [Witch] like Davi’s mom fled Brin’s mind. Bruna was more careful with the Wyrd; she protected her home and her family. She didn’t put lines of Wyrd to surround the entire town, and she certainly never made dozens of people sick.

This [Witch] was bad news, and probably a recent arrival.

“I don’t see anything strange,” said Brych. “I guess there’s not as much activity as I’d normally expect? Could be a local holiday, or maybe a lot of illness.”

“Thank you,” said Cid. “Your thoughts, sir Brin?”

He needed to find the [Witch]. She’d be in the public house, right? If she was new to town, then…

While he was searching, another thought occurred to him. A [Witch] might make a lot of people sick to gain experience, but it wouldn’t be worth much to a high level [Witch]. A [Witch] like that might still do this as a way to gather a lot of power very quickly, power that could then be used to throw a powerful curse at a hapless band of traveling knights.

What were the chances of this? A [Witch] was waiting for him in the first town he came to after meeting Arcaena’s best spy. He’d told Lothar he was coming here, and then Lothar had decided to go off by himself for no reason. Aberfa had told Brin that Lothar’s mother was a [Great Witch]. He trusted his chances against an ordinary [Witch], but if this was someone as powerful as Awnadil had been, they were all dead.

Brin sent another band of Invisible Eyes looking in other directions, and sure enough, he found goblins. To the south a band of a hundred was dashing at full speed towards Dustrim. Then to the west, a group of five hundred was on track to merge with another group of two hundred. A group of fifty had already cut off their route to the fortress of the Order of the Broken Stone.

“I need more, Brych. Look in every direction, not just at the town. Is there something you can tell me?”

“No! I don’t see anything!” Brych cast his eyes around anyway, looking everywhere. “I guess there’s some dust in the air to the south. Could be a merchant caravan.”

Brin summoned some glass and then formed it into a spyglass.

Cid held it to his eye. It didn’t work too well, so Brin blocked light and just projected the image of the goblins on the back lens when Cid was pointing it in the approximately correct direction. He swore and handed it back.

“It seemed we’ve stepped into a trap.”