The Legend of William Oh

Aboard Shimmer, Will was staring at the setting sun, eyes narrowed for a moment before he glanced away, diverting his gaze to the sails bobbing all around them, dyed orange by the sunset.

Lamps were starting to come out as the sailors around them began to work through the night to coordinate the reconstruction of the Flotilla.

Despite the sheer chaos, it was moving faster than Will thought possible, owing to superhuman effort and years of practice.

Will was pleased to note his political backer was still alive, slightly less pleased to note that the composition of The Flotilla had shifted drastically.

Here and there he was able to pick out the absence of a ship he’d seen earlier, and invariably, it was either a neutral ship or one that allied with a different deity.

Meanwhile, ships that bore the symbol of Granesh across their sides clustered tighter together, becoming more and more prevalent as The Flotilla was stitched together.

There’s one, there’s one, there’s one… Will thought, picking them out as he scanned the surroundings.

According to the headcrab matriarch, each ship captain got votes loosely based on the number of people aboard their vessel, and as soon as the Flotilla was put back together, the church of Granesh would likely have a supermajority.

Which meant, once the reconstruction was complete, the church would make the rules, and complaining to them about them sending people to sink his ship would be pointless, since they would excuse themselves.

Sailors called out to him and waved or shook their heads ruefully as he jogged past.

William Oh doesn’t get wet, Will thought, waving back.

Will stood at the base of the Floating Church of Holdna, which was a damn sorrier sight than The Church of Granesh. It was made from cheaper supplies, the worksmanship was solid, but lacked the sanding, varnish and gold inlay that gave the church of Granesh such a luxurious feel.

“Permission to come aboard!” Will called up.

“What the-OH!” A priestess said, glancing over the side and spotting Will bobbing up and down on the waves beside their vessel.

“Granted!”

Will climbed the side of the ship and found himself face-to-face with the same gnarled old woman that had overseen his matches on the Fifth Floor. She had the slender strength of a person who never slows down in old age, wearing warm sailing clothes.

“Holdna sees you, young man.” The white-haired priestess said, hands folded inside her cloak. “How can I help? Do you have an injury or concern?”

“Are you following me?” Will asked with a frown.

“I go where Holdna dictates. I dare not presume her intent.” She dodged the question.

“I’m sorry, I never got your name.” Will said.

“Saint Charnesa.”

Well, Saint Charnesa, were you aware that the floating Church of Granesh is going to take control of The Flotilla?”

“Mm…yes.” Charnesa said.

Will cocked his head.

“And did you have…any thoughts about that?”

“The Church of Granesh, in their desire to achieve purity and stability will always push just a bit too far and foment chaos and revolution. They are their own worst enemies, in many ways. I take their current overreach as a sign that something or someone will soon tear it all down.”

“Can that someone…be us?” Will asked, motioning between the saint and himself.

“Sure.” Charnesa said with a shrug.

“I was hoping to have your backing in the event that Saint Jairus tries to get me killed somehow through legalese. I hope it doesn’t bother you, but I already talked with the Last Chance Inn, and they -”

“You have our support. We will join our voices with the headcrabs.” Saint Charnesa said, nodding.

“Buhh…” Will hadn’t revealed that detail. And the blasé attitude towards them…

“Our goddess is the bride of Chaos.” The saint said with an amused smile. “You’ll find us an easygoing lot.”

“Well, in that case, I need help ‘rescuing’ the sailors aboard a few ships that are about to ‘mysteriously sink’.”

“We’d be happy to help.”

Loth then proceeded to sink a handful of Graneshian vessels, generously offering to house them aboard Shimmer until they regained their own housing.

Some eight-hundred Graneshians were displaced in a matter of hours, roughly the same population as Ashwood, Will’s home outside the tower.

Naturally there was a great deal of panic, suspicion and finger-pointing, but Loth was too clever to get caught, and Will had spent the entire night standing in a beam of lamplight aboard Shimmer.

Being conspicuously innocent.

Shimmer went from being an overly spacious ship that was haunted by a sense of emptiness, to a bustling village unto itself, with no less than ten absolutely livid captains who had lost their ships, and therefore, their authority and voting privileges in The Flotilla.

It was a calculated gamble, bringing together ten crews of the same faith. On one hand it converted ten church votes into ten for Will. On the other hand, they could easily ally themselves against Will and try to take control of the ship.

They would have to do so through open mutiny, though, as none of them were the kind of captain that could beat Will in a duel. Their ships had been selected for that reason.

To nip any thought of mutiny in the bud, Will had Anna split, instructing her to take care of their guests until they departed.

She had already revealed her Ability to the other followers of Granesh that they had released, so there was no point being sneaky about it anymore.

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Having her be everywhere at once, keeping an eye on everything at once, helping every single one of their displaced residents settle in would make things go smoother, and it would also send a strong message about who was in control of Shimmer.

He wouldn’t assign Brianna something as amoral as cold-blooded murder, but a soft show of force? Will was perfectly fine with asking her to do that.

Once Will was sure everything was going according to plan, he ducked into his room, pulled out the bed with its decoy, and crawled into the secret hatch underneath, curled up into a ball against the rough wood before finally allowing himself to fall sleep.

…

It felt like less than a second later, Will opened his eyes to the glare of a light shone directly into his pupils.

“Tell me about your dreams.” A voice spoke, and Will recognized it as Bron, the bishop that had followed him up to the Fifth Floor after Will had…sort of robbed his church in The Ring during their visit to Travis’s family.

To be fair, they started it by trying to kill me.

Will narrowed his eyes, looking past the lamplight blasting him in the face and spotted Bron, cleaning a knife with alcohol and a bloody rag.

How the Abyss? Will thought, glancing from side to side, his stomach sinking as he realized he was restrained.

His arms and legs were bound to an unnervingly familiar crucifix.

Immediately, Will summoned the Phantom Hand, unleashing a cannonball through the space the bishop occupied.

Phantom Hand seemed to react sluggishly, oozing towards Bron and dropping the cannonball on the ground, not even doing the bare minimum of dropping on his toes.

Am I drugged? Debuffed?

“Not going to answer?” Bron asked, raising the knife.

“I don’t really dream that much,” Will said, testing the restraints. There was a fuzzy lack of realism that Will attributed to drugs.

But how did they get me out of Shimmer? They would have to sink it before they could pry him out of it.

A line of fire was drawn across his chest as Bron dragged the knife across his skin, eliciting a cry of pain.

…Wait, something’s not right.

“Do you have a strange empathy for certain corpses?”

Cut.

“Do certain animals seem to like you more than they should?”

Cut.

The pain from the torture didn’t seem to match the pain he would expect from being cut on.

That’s the drugs.

...No. I don’t even remember how I got here. There’s something else…

Will hastily ran through his Memory Key, picturing each crystalized memory as accurately and quickly as he could, ignoring the horrifying image of being tortured that his eyes were showing him, and instead reliving the emotions the memories brought.

Muse in the window.

Nail through foot.

Sick soup.

Choking on stolen peanut butter.

Will’s mental state rapidly changed between hot and cold, and suddenly knife-wielding Bron in front of him seemed to smear, as though Will were looking at everything through an expensive window that someone had smeared a greasy hand across.

Alerted to the fact that none of what he saw was real, Will began to thrash, physically and mentally, repeating the Memory Key over and over, shattering the illusion further.

NOT! REAL!

An instant later Will opened his eyes, limbs flailing as something pried open the hatch above him, seemingly alerted to his presence by his noisy thrashing.

In a heartbeat, Will was staring up at a humanoid figure whose identity was conceal by a thick veil of living darkness. All he could make out was their grey eyes as their saber poised to skewer him.

***Saint Jairus***

Saint Jairus stood on the quarterdeck, picking out the Deceiver’s ship among the myriad sails dotting the dark horizon. After the exchange of prisoners, threats and shouting earlier in the day, he felt invigorated.

Nothing like a little conflict to get the old body thrumming along. The inherent chaos and lawlessness of this Floor appealed to him. Presented a challenge.

Jairus glanced up at the night sky. It was three hours to dawn. Only a handful of sailors remained awake.

It’s time.

Dictum of the Divine.

180-150 Charges.

“The unfaithful will find their dreams to be prisons.”

A silent wave of power rippled outward from The Floating Church of Granesh, infusing the surrounding land with divine authority.

As it spread outward, it became harder and harder to detect, until by the time it reached Shimmer, even the highest-Focus member of their Party would fail to detect it.

Healers were expected to specialize in healing, buffs, and debuffs. Not because it was necessary, but for PR. Sometime long ago, a priest of Granesh had decided that Healers should dedicate every spare Ability to support in order to make them indispensable to whatever Party they happened to be with, able to command a high price for their services without putting them on the frontlines.

This had been wildly successful at securing the wealth and legacy of the Church, copied by every other Church to this day, but it wasn’t without its downsides.

Young men wanted to blow things up with their mind, they wanted to crush stone with their bare hands, wield swords the size of skyscrapers and bisect dragons.

Not wish people luck.

This led to youthful rebellion where many priests neglected or sabotaged their own buffing Abilities.

But Jairus had always taken his mother’s advice to heart.

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing…aim to be the best at it. Standing out among your peers is the surest path to success…And it was.

So Jairus had leaned into buffs and debuffs hard, Picking Ability upgrades that focused on them exclusively, eventually realizing he had as much sway over a battle as a Nuker, if not more. When his Class Evolution came at the end of the Tenth Floor, he was offered Voice of Granesh.

And he took it, evolving his Primary, Set the Stage to Dictum of the Divine.

Set the Stage was a wide-ranging Ability that covered tens of miles, subtly boosting allies while debuffing enemies, making any battle go smoothly, even at tremendous range.

Dictum of the Divine categorized its targets differently. Rather than friend and foe, it now separated by believers versus non-believers, and allowed Jairus to dictate the nature of the buff or debuff.

It was also significantly stronger, holding a cost to match its power. Dictum of the Divine was what he had used to ensure the faithful had made it through the dual assault of the Scramble and the monsters the Kullin had lured to attack the Flotilla.

Dictum of the Divine

150-120 Charges.

“The faithful will be bolstered by the might and unflappable will of Granesh.”

Might as well put a couple extra sprinkles of unfair on top of it, Jairus thought, watching Shimmer in the distance. Somehow, a single maid had subdued a Party of half a dozen Climbers.

According to the hostages they’d exchanged to allow Will to leave, there had been over a hundred of the same girl, each of them freakishly strong and durable, wearing makeshift canvas wrappings.

By all accounts, it sounded like one of Frederick Wyrd’s experiments that had terrorized the lower levels for a few months before the Lord’s death.

A Tangled, was it? I wasn’t informed that William Oh kept one as a pet.

It didn’t take a genius to surmise that Frederick Wyrd’s living weapons must’ve had terrible Focus to allow them to be easily controlled.

Unfortunately, Jairus didn’t have anybody on board with a Charm class to take advantage of that fact, so it was a bit of a moot point.

That does give me a hint, though…

Jairus did a little math in his head and estimated the girl’s Focus.

It’s gotta be somewhere in the 40’s, in order to make it high enough to spawn over a hundred copies overnight.

Her natural focus has to be less than 25. Probably significantly less.

…So the original must be wearing a high Focus kit.

The maid waving from the deck of Shimmer was not wearing any Relics that Jairus could see…So she wasn’t the original.

The question was…where was the original Tangled? Was she hiding below-decks on Shimmer, or…was she a bit closer to home?

Deceivers, and this one in particular, were known to be slippery.

“Joshua.”

“Yes, Saint?”

“Without raising suspicion, compile a list of the strangers onboard wearing heavy Focus-boosting Relics.” Jairus’s brow twitched as an idea occurred to him. “And a list of those not wearing any at all.”

In theory it should be a very short list.

“Yessir.”

“And tell the Boarders to come speak to me. I’ve got a job for them.”

“Yessir.”

For a moment, Jairus looked back out at the ocean, where the lights of The Flotilla were beginning to cluster on the horizon as they painstakingly re-ordered themselves, working through the night to create the center of the city: City Hall, the Distillery, and the permanent residences and businesses that clustered around them.

The two constants in a civilized world: Taxes and Plumbing.

Jairus turned back to his work.

Dictum of the Divine

120-90 Charges.

“The faithful will be cloaked and guided by the dark of night.” Jairus spoke as the Boarders assembled in front of him, Darkness swirling up and covering everything but their eyes.