Vol. 3 Chap. 12 An Old "Friend"

Vol. 3 Chap. 12 An Old "Friend"

Truth sat on a bench, watching the people pass. Nobody looked happy. Most looked indifferent. Truth was from Jeon, though. That wasn’t apathy. That was their mask. The thin lips, stiff shoulders, and quick steps. The way people shoved in front of each other over minuscule advantages, like the first to cross the street when the light changed.

Then the mask slipped. People shoving each other, screaming to get at time-limited sales. Yelling at their kids, their families, or lovers. He saw a manager dress down a waiter right on the street, then fire him. Screaming abuse. “Take off your apron and get out! I’m deducting what you cost me from your last paycheck! In fact, you are lucky I don’t sue you!” Red-faced with anger, as the waiter stared at their feet. Their face an apathetic mask.

Eating the hate. Eating the humiliation. Truth knew that taste very well. How long until the waiter rebels? Well... how long had it taken Truth?

The waiter wouldn’t rebel. He couldn’t see through all the fists the world was throwing at him. All his plans, his dreams- meaningless. The waiter was wrong to dream. Wrong to hope. He had no agency, no choices. He wasn't even allowed to serve his masters joyfully. See? His life was ruined at the manager’s whim.

What was it that the fat man in his vision had said? Something about the best argument for a boss on earth was a boss in heaven? Sounds right. Well, Starbrite was the heavens, and this world had all kinds of local bosses.

Why did that demon get summoned, and why did the plates blow up? Why was everything rigged to explode? The plates obviously came from Starbrite, a security mechanism, but the demon thing? He hadn’t heard of any demon outbreaks, so presumably, this wasn’t super-common. Was it just Huelle? If so, why? Not enough information. About anything. He stood up from the bench. He would go back to De’Porte, collect his fee for the Huelle hit, and line up the next job. Get more information. Keep pushing the System Astrologica towards collapse.

He stood, dusted himself off, and went. Some part of him wanted to “deal” with the manager. He ignored it. There were bigger rats to hunt.

____________________________________________

“You do good work, but you can’t be here. Take the money and go.”

“Wait, what?” Truth was startled. He wasn’t expecting this from DePonte.

“You look like you got rolled. I have seen actual bums better put together than you. You are damaging the vibes here just by existing, and the club isn’t open yet. Look, you want more work? Wothera Hersch, hotel manager at the Hanging Orchid Hotel on Czerni Square. I’m only paying you if you turn up in new, clean clothes and don’t smell.”

It had been a while since he had a shower, hadn’t it? The whole “people aren’t allowed to be aware of you without permission” thing was clearly affecting his grasp on normal behavior. Alarmingly fast. Actually, couldn’t he turn that off? But then the infinite surveillance systems of Jeon would pick him up in no time, with all the horror that would cause.

“Fair enough. I’ll do that.”

“Good, good. Now go get her, and don’t come back until it’s done. Until it’s ALL done.”

____________________________________________

Occupancy was unsurprisingly low at the Hanging Orchard Hotel. Czerni Square was just off of what passed for the financial district in this little city- a place of glass and steel monuments to unfounded optimism. To maximize rentable floor space, the developers built the towers right up to the edge of the narrow sidewalk, and in several cases, the sidewalk was actually covered by the overhang of the building. It always creeped Truth out, seeing a narrow stem holding up an entire skyscraper. Spells at work, presumably.

Dark, windy, and cold. That was the financial district at three in the afternoon. He went to the hotel front desk.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting Ms. Dechau. I think she’s in the Presidential Suite?”

“Are you sure? We don’t have a Presidential Suite. Our Grand Deluxe Supreme Diamond Suite is currently unoccupied. Want me to look her up in the book?”

“Please.”

A few moments later.

“I don’t see her name here.”

Truth sighed. “Looks like I got stood up.”

“Sorry.”

“Maybe it’s my clothes. Any good stores around here?”

On the reverse was a landscape of a brilliant sun hanging over rolling hills dotted with towers. Probably very symbolic, but of what, he didn’t know. The edges were deeply milled. The milling looked odd, a matte color when you would expect them to be shiny. He brought the token closer to his eye and squinted. Then squinted harder.

System-

>

What exactly is this?

> Truth could feel the System gasping with laughter. Some sick bastard wrote an entire demon possession contract on the milling on the token. Talk about reading the fine print! That’s genius.>>

A demon possession contract?

>

Wait... wasn’t Huelle a man?

>

Speaking as a Level Four human, it’s pretty damn relevant!

literal demon needs an literal womb any more than the maggots breeding in an open wound.>>

Truth “admired” the token a bit more. Oh, that’s extra dumb. Huelle’s guards. He didn’t have ‘em because he had the demon and probably didn’t understand what he agreed to. The prick was too cheap to pay for human guards when he had a “free” demon.

> The System agreed.

Truth pocketed the letter, envelope, and token, then tidied up the spilled trash as a thank you for the lead. Then, out of sheer mischief and because he did have an outstanding contract on Manager Hersch, he whispered in her ear-

“There is no end to this. They are always going to make you scared, right up until they take it all away from you. Time to start thinking about what you need to feel good. This story will never have a happy ending. So what do you need to be happy right now? People only pretend the rules still apply, but we all know that’s a lie. They don’t apply at all, at least if you have guts. Time to do whatever the hell you feel like, and if they don’t like it, they can come at you. Better than being scared all the time.”

He had no idea if the idea would take, but it would be pretty interesting to see if anything came of it. For now, he had a lead. Time to track down The Enlightened Runcible Bosch.

_______________________________________

Truth sat at his workstation in his favorite office- a random bench just off a busy street. “Bench” might have been an over-generous description. It was poured concrete in the rough shape of a bench but with a three-centimeter peak running along the middle of it to discourage rough sleepers. This, obviously, was not useful for his purposes, so he used his Level Four privilege to smooth it out with Incisive. Now that the surface was glass smooth and perfectly level, he got to work.

The talisman he was making was carved on a little metal disk he cut out of a bit of street sign. He punched a little hole and hung it from a lanyard. Then, with exacting care, he started carving. The pattern was quite simple, but the consequences of messing it up could be dramatic. Steadily, steadily, that was the way. He thought about adding a few embellishments he learned in Siphios. Strictly speaking, they were redundant, but there was no real reason he couldn’t. He added them in.

The carving got him thinking. You were supposed to do ten hours of class work per year to keep your Talisman Maintenance Tech Certification current. He was well behind on that. He should pick up some books on the subject while he was here in Jeon. Siphios had its advantages, but Jeon simply blew them out of the water in terms of Talisman design and technology.

Truth carefully finished tracing the little channels, checked he had all the geometry correct, and verified the variables. All was as it should be. He smiled a little. Then added a few more refinements just in case.

He pressed the talisman gently on the stone and ran a thread of cosmic energy through it. “By the Laws of the Most Holy, by the Names of ZHR YHIVI, RHW DMW, NXJQ and G’RXT, by the Terror and Obedience owed to those most high, and by my own will, I summon you! Appear before me in a form pleasing to the eye at once!”

There was a distortion in the air, a shuddering feeling. A heartbroken cry as a mother watched her child drown in front of her-

“Knock it off, wiseass.”

“How good to see you once again, Dread Magus,” murmured Thrush.