It was, with no small amount of trepidation, that Archivauld accepted the woman's offer. It was perhaps one of the riskiest things he had ever done. Though it could backfire spectacularly, it could also reap huge rewards.
Archivauld was a wanted criminal, hunted by the inquisition, and had been lucky thus far to go unnoticed. Or not so lucky, considering Pelas figured out his secret.
A ten gold bounty was a ridiculous amount, enough to live comfortably for the rest of one's life. Everyone who was anyone would burn his likeness into their minds in hopes of getting lucky and spotting him.
Thankfully, with his long shaggy hair, thick beard, and the fact he had slimmed down quite a bit made it difficult to mark him as the man on the poster. Perhaps only his little brother Malakai would recognize him.
Or at least that's what he had thought. Pelas and her people found him out. Now he was leery of going outside in fear of being recognized. All it would take was someone with a keen eye, and he would be in serious trouble.
Hence why he agreed to Pelas's deal. She was a disreputable sort, clearly only caring about her own ambitions, but that was okay. Archivauld could work with someone like that.
All he had to do was stay useful. Working off his debt would take a while. If they were actually going to be closing rifts and exploring the inner expanse, there would be plenty of opportunities. If he played his cards right, a huge influx of silvers would flow his way. High tier monsters and rifts could offer immense profit to those with the strength and resources to hunt them.
Everything from rare metals to herbs, essence, and most valuable of all, emblems. The thought made Archivauld's heart race. He had to forcibly push down the greed in his heart. Rushing in blindly would be a good way to die.
Rifts, and the expanse itself, were the cause of many deaths each day, some rifts so dangerous that even a Blade Cardinal would be risking their lives to enter.
Said rifts were pretty rare near the outer ring, but all too common in the heart of the expanse. Rifts and their expansive pocket realms were just one danger in the expanse. In the heart of the expanse, where the essence was so thick you could see it, monsters reigned supreme.
His racing thoughts were interrupted as Pelas said something.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?" Archivuald asked.
She gave him an inscrutable look before snapping her fingers.. The man who guided Archivauld immediately stepped forward, handing her a folded piece of paper.
Pelas proffered the folded piece of paper.
"I do not wish to pry into your business, but since you are under my umbrella now, can you explain this?" Pelas asked.
Archivauld reached out and took the proffered paper forcibly, keeping his expression blank as he unfolded it. His heart skipped a beat as he read.
'Wanted for murder, Archivauld. Ten gold, dead or alive'
His mouth went dry as his hand slowly drifted towards the haft of his ax.
His mind raced as his eyes darted back and forth.
"Why are you showing me this? Are you threatening me?" Archivauld asked, ready to unleash violence on the two at any moment. He would not be pushed around anymore. Deal or not, he would send them to the Nether blasted hells rather than be blackmailed.
Startled by his reaction, Pelas took a half step back, clearly disturbed by something in his eyes.
She quickly shook her head. "No, it is not a threat at all Archivuald. I just wished to put the cards on the table. I have no issue hiding who you are, I just wanted to know why you are being hunted so I can figure out how best to hide you," she said, her calm partially cracking under his murderous glare.
Archivauld took a deep calming breath, noting that the other man in the room had palmed something under his cloak, likely a weapon.
He pretended he didn't notice.
"Your concern is understandable, and I suppose you should know, since you will be implicated if I'm found working for you. Let's just say I fell on hard times, and found myself clearing a rift with a group of bandits. The bandits murdered some acolytes, and inquisitors. Since I was with them at the time, I share the blame," Archivauld said.
Pelas raised a dubious eyebrow.
"And where are they now, the bandits I mean?" Pelas asked.
"Yurlan and Tanur are dead, killed in the pass. Parcival is likely inside the city of stronghold. I was actually hoping you could help me find him?" Archivuald said.
"Is he a friend?" Pelas asked.
"Not at all.. That is a sick bastard that needs to be put down. If you find him for me, I will owe you a huge favor," Archivauld said.
A smile tugged at her lips.
"Well, that is something to consider. I will have my people keep an eye out for him," Pelas said.
"Thank you, but be careful if you find him. Parcival is a sadistic rotten bastard that enjoys the suffering of others. Also, he is extremely dangerous, with two combat related emblems that I know of," Archivauld said.
"We will keep that in mind. Well, Archivuald, you have given me much to consider. Turner, would you escort him out," Pelas asked.
Turner, who had been quiet for most of the meeting, gave Pelas a shallow bow.
Archivauld followed the man, who didn't speak until they were in the hallway, and the door had shut behind them.
"Right this way, I will show you back to the street," Turner said.
"So, how is this going to work?" Archivauld asked hesitantly.
"We will deal with all the nitty-gritty details. All you have to do is lie low for a few days while we contact the flesh shaper and set up an appointment," Turner said.
"Sounds simple enough," Archivuald hesitated for a few seconds before forging on. "I gotta ask. Why is Pelas so eager to form her own guild? More importantly, why is she willing to go against the Order to do it? I'm not complaining, but I'm not a fool. She is taking on a lot of risk by helping me," Archivuald said.
Turner gave him a sidelong glance, pausing as they reached the exit to the alley.
"Pelas has her own ambitions, and plans. I imagine you do as well. As long as you don't get in the way of her plans, things will go well for you. If you go above and beyond to help her achieve her goals, I dare say, wealth and power will flow your way as well," Turner said, opening the door.
Archivuald stepped out into the dark alleyway, the door clicking shut softly behind him. Turner's words sounded great, but there was an implied threat there. If he went against them, or their interests, he would be dealt with.
It was a sobering thought, though also comforting at the same time. As long as he was valuable, then they would do their best to keep him alive and well.
After all, successful rift walkers could make boatloads of gold. At Least if they didn't get killed, by monsters, or stabbed in their sleep.
Archivauld let out a dark chuckle. He might be a bottom wrung Holder now, but if he pushed himself hard, and was careful, that would all change.
His future suddenly looked a lot brighter. Mind racing at all the possibilities, he made his way back to the lower districts, finding the tavern he was staying after a bit of searching. The bar room was just as vibrant as ever, though a sense of unease was in the air.
It didn't take but a glance around to find out why. Two inquisitors were sitting at the bar, masks on, as they talked to the barkeep. Archivauld couldn't help but overhear them as he walked past the bar, heading towards the stairs.
"That's rough news, of course you can gather their possessions. Their families deserve to have what's left of them," the barkeep said.
The inquisitor on the left let out a heavy sigh.
"Poor sods. I feel like we are on bad news delivery too much these days," the inquisitor said, his voice weary.
The second inquisitor grunted in agreement.
"It's the world we live in. We can't blame ourselves for others' greed. That group of rift walkers only had one emblem each. Only two of them had an emblem that was knight tier. And yet they entered a Herald tier rift by themselves without a guide. There wasn't even enough left of their bodies to bring back to their families," the inquisitor said.
Archivauld started up the stairs, his mind a whir as he took in their words. It was a relief that the inquisitors weren't here because someone recognized him. The actual reason was not much better. They must be talking about that group of independent rift walkers he saw the other day.
The danger of rifts and the monsters in the inner expanse was not something to be underestimated.
The doorknob to his room rattled as he fumbled with the keys, the door clicking open after a few failed tries.
He let out a tired sigh as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it. What a day! Despite not needing to so much as draw his ax, it had been quite stressful. Even if the day had gone a lot smoother than expected.
He still hadn't decided if he was fortunate or not to have found what he was looking for so quickly.
It almost felt like divine intervention.
A few years ago, when he was an acolyte, he would have praised the holy mother for his good fortune. Now he felt as though he would be struck down for his blasphemy if he did so.
The hateful words of Nervin Cerque on the day he was thrown out on his ass rang loudly in his mind.
Being cast out was just one in a long line of bad things that drove his reputation and standing into the dirt. The company he kept these days wasn't exactly the most reputable. His current line of work, and the people he hung out with, were more in line with the tenants of the dark god.
The Nether prince wasn't an evil deity, but his tenants were certainly more unorthodox than the holy mothers. It was a fact that caused no small amount of friction between the two factions. The fact that the more zealous members of the cult practiced blood sacrifice on slain monsters was one such area of tension.
Archivuald, had neither the knowledge nor the desire to sacrifice anything. Even being able to turn into a monster wouldn't change that. The dark god might favor Archivauld, but he wouldn't let that turn him into a zealous lunatic who did blood sacrifices.
That was a slippery slope that he had no intention of going down. He already had enough problems on his hands after traveling with Yurlan and crew for a few months. He sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, the springs squeaking.
Well, not much to do now, but wait for Turner to show up. Archivuald hated to admit it, but he was completely reliant on Pelas and her people for his next step. It was annoying, but not much he could do about it. It was going to be a long few days…..
Archivuald's estimates of only a few days were horribly inaccurate. It was actually six days, thrice the time he had initially been expecting. He was starting to go stir crazy, never leaving his rooms except to get food. Finally, there was the knock he had been waiting for.
He opened the door, but instead of Turner, it was a spindly kid, in his mid teens.
"Can I help you?" Archivauld asked gruffly.
The kid glanced side to side to verify they were alone before nodding.
"Turner sent me. Gather everything you own, we are going to meet him," the kid said.
Archivauld let out a sigh but did as asked.
Well, at least this should be more exciting than waiting around in his room. He couldn't wait to finally be done with this.
They left the tavern without so much as a goodbye, Archivauld already having paid seven days in advance just in case. It was sad to see those silvers go, but he didn't regret it too much. His heart beat with excitement as they took a circuitous route to a plain, unadorned warehouse in the lower districts.
It honestly looked like a dump, a rundown building used to store piles of raw ore. The metallic tang of rusted iron was heavy on the air as he entered.
"Turner should be here shortly," the boy said, before turning and walking away, not so much as a goodbye.
"What's his deal?" Archivauld muttered.
"Not sure, he is a bit of a weird one, that kid," came Turner's voice, the man walking into view.
"Sneaky as always. So, what's with all the cloak and dagger?" Archivauld asked, his eyes darting about the gloomy warehouse.
Turner grunted.
"The flesh shaper does not wish for their place of business to be made known to someone of your ilk. Anonymity protects you, and them should you get yourself caught," Turner said.
"Makes sense. Is that why you are carrying a black sack?" Archivauld asked.
Turner laughed amusedly.
"Very perceptive. Here is what we are going to do. You are going to put on the sack, and I will lead you in a random pattern until I know you are lost. Then we will go to the flesh shaper's place of business. If you try anything, to snoop around, or even leave the room you are placed in, the deal is off. Follow their words, and don't ask any personal questions about them. The boss is putting her reputation on the line for you, pulling a lot of strings to make this happen," Turner said.
"I understand, i won't screw it up," Archivauld replied.
Turner nodded in approval. "Don't fuck this up. If you make it out on the other end without any screw ups, your first mission will be tomorrow," Turner said.
"That's quick. What kind of mission?" Archivauld asked..
"Don't worry about that right now. We will give you all the details after," Turner said.
"Good to know, now toss me the damn bag," Archivuald said.
Turner threw the sac over, and Archviuald took a whiff of inside.
"You could have at least cleaned it since the last guy used it," he grumbled, tugging the soiled sack over his head.
Turner chuckled darkly.
"The bag is perfectly fine, just a few blood stains and some bile for when we have to rough people up," Turner said.
"Do you have to do that often?" Archivauld asked.
"More than you would think. Now hush, we don't want to keep the flesh shaper waiting," Turner said.
Just as promised, Archivuald was led in a circuitous route for probably an hour.
Even without the sac covering his head, he would doubtless be hopelessly lost. There wasn't anything to see, but he did hear a few things, the sounds of others moving past them.
Noone so much as challenged them, and eventually he heard a knock at a door.
He stumbled as he walked up the stairs, light entering from small cracks around his neck.
Archivauld blinked rapidly as Turner finally tugged the sack off.
He was in a small sitting room, with a lacquered wooden desk, a plate of cookies on top and a soft-looking couch.
Tanur gave him a half smile before taking his sac of smelliness and walking towards the door.
"The flesh shaper will be in shortly, I will be in the other room. Don't cause any trouble," Turner warned for the umteenth time.
Archivauld sighed as the man left, leaving him alone in the small sitting room. Oh great, more waiting.
At least the couch was soft, and there were even some cookies that smelled delicious. Not that he would eat random cookies set out without knowing what was in them.
Sitting on the couch, he pulled his ax from its loop, leaning it against the table. Noone had bothered to disarm him, probably because the ax was only one of his dangerous weapons. Considering they knew he had at least one divine curse, disarming him would have been pointless.
Archivauld waited anxiously, nearly jumping in his seat as the door suddenly opened.
A surprisingly pretty young woman strode through the door, her face a picture of perfection. Her cheeks, nose and eyes were perfectly symmetrical, as if sculpted by the holy mother herself instead of occurring naturally.
The woman's face was too perfect, not so much as a freckle, or line out of place. She was stunningly beautiful, though strangely not in the same way as the woman who threatened to toast him with lightning.
Noting his stare, the woman cracked a smile.
"What do you think of my work? Is my appearance acceptable?" she asked.
"Absolutely beautiful," Archviauld said, his heart skipping a beat at her gaze.
"I'm glad to see you appreciate my work, it is not easy to shape your own face," She said.
"I imagine so. I hear it is quite painful," Archivauld said.
She laughed, the sound almost musical.
"More than most people can deal with. It is why I supply cookies to my clients. They are laced with the powdered venom from the elusive herald tier Aralia. In large doses, the venom will kill you, but in the right amounts it will just knock you out, numbing and relaxing your body," she said.
"That sounds dangerous," Archivuald said, happy that he didn't take a cookie before.
She shrugged.
"It can be, but we have been doing this for quite some time. There is always risk, considering everyone reacts a little differently to the venom. But you are in capable hands, we even have a herald tier healer on staff in case anything goes wrong," she said.
Archivauld let out a nervous breath, nodding slow. "So, how does this work? Do I just eat the cookie, and wake up as a new man?" Archivauld asked.
"Pretty much. One cookie should be enough for a man of your size. We can't change your height, general build, your or the way you walk, but we can change your face and the shape of your vocal cord. Combined with the identity we have prepared, I dare say you will wake up a new man," she said.
"Anything else I should know?" Archivuald asked, his heart beating so hard she could probably hear it.
"We will go over all the specific details once you wake up," she replied.
"Do I at least get to choose my new appearance?" Archivauld asked.
"No, but I will make sure you are not too disappointed," she said.
"Figures. Was hoping to finally get those dashing good looks I wasn't born with, but sadly that doesn't seem to be in my future," Archivuald said.
She laughed.
"It's probably for the best. Having extremely good looks attracts more attention than you want. Given your circumstances, I will construct it mostly forgettable," she said.
Archviauld sighed, but couldn't refute her words. As much as he wanted to be drop dead handsome, she was right. Good-looking people drew attention, attention he did not need.
Picking up one of the cookies, he took a deep steadying breath.
"Alright, here we go. Please, at least don't make my looks worse than they are now," he said, eating the cookie in one large bite.
"I'll do my best. Don't worry, im sure you will be pleased with the result," she replied.
He almost immediately felt woozy, the Aralia venom rapidly taking effect.
His head spun as he slumped back on the couch, her beautiful visage across the table growing blurry.
"Could you get my ankle looked at by that healer?" he muttered, his tongue heavy, his voice distant.
Delirious, Archivuald didn't quite catch her response, as the venom pulled him under.