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Memoirs 349 - If only there was music
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 21:48:14 +0000 UTC“…For a relic of the ancient Zuver, this thing’s kinda slow, isn’t it?” Kat remarked dryly, arms crossed as the woman glanced around the platform.
Scarlett gave her a brief look before returning her attention to the engraved panel embedded in the pedestal before her. Its surface shimmered with intricate glyphs and partially decipherable shaft-like diagrams. Around their group, sheer stone walls glided silently upwards as the wide circular terrace descended smoothly beneath their feet.
They had boarded the platform at the far end of the convergence chamber, and it was now steadily carrying them deeper into Beld Thylelion. In the game, these transport platforms showed up here and there, offering access to the different levels of the dungeon. Given that they were inside an ancient Zuverian complex—created by perhaps the greatest mage to have ever lived—Scarlett found it somewhat peculiar that Beld Thylelion relied upon these semi-mechanical lifts rather than more magical means of transportation.
From a game design standpoint, though, it made sense not to let players skip straight to the final chamber.
Based on what she could gather from the panel, this particular platform would only take them to the next level. How deep that was exactly, she wasn’t sure. But so long as they were going down, they were on the right path.
Even so, it was surprising just how long it took to drop a single level. The descent itself was smooth enough, but as Kat pointed out, they weren’t moving particularly fast. That said, Beld Thylelion clearly also stretched deeper than most would expect. Certainly deeper than Lake Rellaria.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned to appreciate about the Zuver and their creations,” Rosa said, tugging one ear with a wince, “it’s that you really shouldn’t expect consistency in…anything, really.” She grimaced. “Aaaand my ear just popped again. This is starting to get annoying.”
“The Zuverian civilisation is believed to have undergone several major upheavals and shifts throughout its history,” Shin added, peering up towards the dark shaft above. “It’s generally accepted that their architecture and enchantment styles varied significantly between different cities and enclaves under the diviniarchs — let alone across different eras. From what I’ve seen, the design here resembles the structures from the Ascendant Court in Elystead more than the ruins found in the southern parts of the empire.”
He gestured lightly to the platform beneath them. “And lifts like this are actually more efficient than teleportation magic, in most cases. Most mage towers use similar constructs.”
“Know-it-all,” Allyssa teased, standing beside him.
Shin gave her an unimpressed look. “…Should I apologise for having read more than the preface of a book?”
Allyssa shrugged, flipping her blonde hair with one hand and adjusting the strap of her bandolier. “No one’s forcing you to apologise. But I won’t stop you either.”
Arnaud chuckled, placing a hand on Shin’s shoulder. “Glad to see my little honeybun hasn’t changed one bit with you around, Shin, even if I imagine it must be something of a trial. You have my thanks for enduring her this long.”
“Thank you,” Shin said, turning to him. “But sometimes I wish you had taken on a bit more of that responsibility yourself.”
Allyssa narrowed her eyes. “‘Enduring’? Really?”
Arnaud just smiled warmly and gave Shin’s shoulder another pat. “I’ll leave her in your capable hands.”
He stepped away—leaving Shin to his fate—and crossed the platform to join Scarlett. She offered him a brief glance, then turned back to the glowing panel.
“What is that, exactly?” he asked after a moment, nodding to the panel. “It seems to be keeping you rather preoccupied.”
“It is nothing more than the interface to operate this lift,” she replied.
“Then is there a reason you’re still examining it so closely?”
“There is.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Arnaud stayed quiet, patient and quiet. Eventually, she glanced his way again and found him still looking at her. She held his gaze for a second or two, then returned to the panel.
“I am attempting to better understand the enchantment framework underlying its function,” she said. “As is often the case with Zuverian constructions, establishing a connection requires only the faintest, near-unconscious application of mana. But simplicity does not equate to a lack of sophistication. Their enchantments are seldom crude or uniform. I simply wish to familiarise myself with the particular signature employed here in Beld Thylelion.”
To be honest, there wasn’t much to be gained from interacting with this panel beyond activating the platform’s ascent or descent. But she was curious. She’d found that the nuances of artifact interfacing were a surprisingly unexplored discipline in this world, with most ‘modern’ enchanted items simply responding to vague intent. Yet, thanks to Thainnith’s legacy, she knew that there could be subtlety to the practice, and she’d experienced some of that with her [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] as well as her [Crown of Flame’s Benediction].
It wasn’t exactly apparent in everyday use, but these enchantments did carry certain signatures similar to fingerprints. She might have compared it to different communication protocols or wireless technologies back in her world — like Bluetooth, maybe. Most people used them without the faintest clue how they worked. She remembered thinking infrared on phones was actual magic once. In her defence, she had been quite young at the time. Though it had also taken her years to realise the tech had practically already been phased out.
As for this panel before her, it felt pretty similar to other Zuverian enchantments she’d interacted with, but it was somewhat different as well. Right now, her real interest lay in seeing whether she could coax it into doing something it wasn’t meant to.
Beside her, Arnaud hummed almost thoughtfully as she continued her silent study.
But he didn’t leave.
“Is there something you wish to say, Mister Astrey?” she asked after a while, without looking at him.
“Plenty,” he replied easily.
“That does not surprise me.”
There was another pause. In her periphery, she saw him turn his head, watching the others. Rosa and Kat had drifted into light banter, trading stories about the deepest caves they’d explored. Shin had settled into a sort of stoic resignation under Allyssa’s ‘guidance’. Fynn sat cross-legged near the centre of the platform, eyes closed in meditation.
For a group who’d been in the middle of combat just a few minutes earlier—now descending into the depths of an ancient ruin that could shape the fate of the world—the atmosphere was disarmingly calm. Casual, even.
“It’s impressive, the trust you’ve earned from them,” Arnaud said at last, his gaze returning to Scarlett. “And—at the risk of sounding like a proud father—it’s an impressive group you’ve assembled, Baroness.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “It is, as they say, a ‘team effort’. I could not have earned their trust without first extending a considerable measure of my own.”
“A considerable measure? Not all?”
“Anyone who places all their trust in another should either be desperately bereft of alternatives or afflicted with a lamentably reckless disposition akin to Miss Hale’s.”
“That is a very cynical perspective,” Arnaud noted.
“Then you may consider me a very cynical person,” Scarlett said.
Arnaud studied her. His brow furrowed slightly as Scarlett shot him a look, before once more focusing on the panel. She brushed her fingertips over an obscure symbol etched in one corner, prompting a faint pulse of light. It was supposed to correspond to a deeper section of Beld Thylelion which was inaccessible from their current shaft. This wasn’t a map per se, but it did give her a clearer sense of their current position, and her initial guess about them being near the centre levels was likely correct.
“I imagine there is something else you wished to discuss,” she added.
Arnaud remained silent a moment longer. “Why are we here?” he asked.
Scarlett touched another section of the panel. More runes flared softly to life. “Have I not already answered that?”
“To prevent a disaster?”
“Correct.”
“And supposedly… because you know the future.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“I cannot say.”
He paused. She imagined his gaze sharpened. “What disaster, exactly?”
Again, the panel shimmered beneath her hand. “I cannot say.”
“You cannot?” he echoed.
“I will not,” Scarlett corrected. “If that answer suits you better.”
“Why?”
She looked over at him, considering him for a moment. “Because it is a bother.”
His frown deepened visibly, and she was pretty sure the light frustration she caught in his eyes was genuine. Scarlett watched him closely for a couple more seconds, then sighed and looked back at the panel. She pressed a sequence of glyphs. They responded with a dim, pulsing light that she interpreted as something akin to an error signal. ‘Access denied’, she supposed. Not unexpected.
“Involving outside parties inevitably introduces variables I cannot easily account for,” she continued with an impassive voice. “And I have a distinct distaste for unpredictability. Matters would be far simpler if everyone were content to simply follow instructions without craving further explanation.”
“That’s not how people work.”
She gave a dry, near-silent chuckle. “From my experience, that is not entirely true. Some people may not work that way, but many do. There is comfort in surrendering choice and an understanding of the complete picture — a comfort in being led. I am not necessarily condemning the trait. Perhaps it is even part of human nature to relinquish the burden of choice at times. Some are simply more inclined toward that role than others.”
She could feel the weight of his gaze, as though the man was measuring something behind her words.
“…Tell me, Baroness,” he said. “Do you see those who serve—those risking their lives for the Guild, the mage towers, and the empire—as pawns?”
“I do not,” she replied. “Even if I do consider them as bothers on occasion.”
That, surprisingly, earned a dull breath from the man. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh. Something between the two. He let the silence stretch before speaking again.
“I think we’ve drifted from the point. What I still want to know is what kind of disaster you’re trying to prevent.”
Scarlett turned to him. “There is no single kind,” she said. “I have seen many.”
His brow creased again.
“In some, the empire burns. In others, the realms crumble one by one, collapsing into themselves. A disaster is a disaster. And it is, in general, best averted.” She eyed him for a bit, then looked back at the panel. “It should suffice to know that the empire is headed towards one. And the greatest step to preventing it lies here, in Beld Thylelion.”
“…What part does Beld Thylelion play in this?”
Her hand paused for the briefest second above the interface. “…That,” she murmured, “is something I would like to understand myself.”
Arnaud leaned in slightly. “What was that?”
She glanced at him again. “These ruins house a relic,” she said, louder. “One of immense potential and great consequence. You should already be aware of the Tribute of Dominion, no? My goal is simple: reach the Tribute before those who would misuse it.”
Arnaud gave a slow nod. “I’m aware you had a hand in stirring up interest among the Followers of Ittar and other groups in this ‘Tribute’. You’re the reason some started scouring the empire for any trace of this place. Not many have openly discussed it, but I’ve spoken with those who are under the firm belief that you were helping them.”
“I would hope so. That was my intention.”
His brow lifted. “But you’ve been deceiving them.”
“Not quite. I never claimed that I was not pursuing Beld Thylelion myself.”
“A lie of omission is still deceit.”
“I suppose it is.” Scarlett touched the panel again. This time, the entire platform gave a faint shudder and came to a stop.
The others looked over.
“Uh… We good?” Kat asked.
“We are,” Scarlett replied, moving her fingers over the interface. The platform resumed its slow descent. “Do not concern yourself.”
She was pretty sure what she just tried was the equivalent of jury-rigging the platform to accelerate, but it seemed like the effort had failed. Did these things have some safeguards built into them?
The others’ gazes lingered—on her and on Arnaud—but eventually drifted back to their own conversations. Still, she had no doubt they were listening, choosing, for the time being, to let the two of them speak in peace.
For a time, Arnaud said nothing. When he did, his voice had shifted, becoming quieter, yet more direct. “Why involve them at all?”
“The Followers and the rest, you mean?” Scarlett asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Because this matters. If the Cabal, the Undead Council, or any other faction with questionable morals were to claim the Tribute, the consequences would be truly dire. The factions I stirred into action are precisely those whose involvement could disrupt or counter such threats. Like me, their goals align with preventing disaster, so it is natural to leverage their influence.”
“And they just happened to make for useful distractions,” Arnaud said, not quite a question.
Scarlett turned to him. “…Both can be true.”
The man held her gaze, and when he spoke again, the caution in his tone was unmistakable. “Then you must understand why I have no choice but to be wary of your motives, Baroness. You admit to manipulating these groups. Feeding them partial truths.”
“I do,” Scarlett replied. “Were I in your position, I would not trust me either. Even if a slip of paper told me to do so.”
To her surprise, that once again earned another breath from him — something between a sigh and a low chuckle. “You’re remarkably candid for someone who so freely acknowledges her own duplicity.”
Scarlett arched a brow and turned back to the panel. “You strike me as the sort for whom honesty is most effective. And, I would argue, the circumstances leave little room for many other approaches. You are reasonable—cooperative, provided your daughter isn’t directly involved—and I suspect you have already accepted the unfortunate reality that you are currently rather stuck with us. Unless, of course, you prefer to brave these chambers alone in search of a path out.”
She saw, out of the corner of her eye, a small nod.
As the man had himself said, he was here to help. She doubted he’d turn back so easily. But what he might do once they reached the Tribute… that remained the most uncertain part of all this.
Another lull between them followed, filled only by the soft hum of descent and the low murmur of the others.
“Why not coordinate more openly?” Arnaud asked eventually. “If these factions matter, if you share a goal, why not work with them directly? If you’d been more transparent with the Guild, I can assure you we could have prepared for. We could’ve come to an arrangement.”
“There are many reasons,” Scarlett said. “But foremost among them… I am not convinced the Guild—or any imperial faction—should possess the Tribute. Even if I trust their intentions to some degree, I do not trust their ability as organisations to hide it, guard it, or resist what it may represent. As they say, power distorts. I do not know what some of them would become with it in hand.”
She meant that. The game had never shown what would happen if one of these ‘good’ factions reached the Tribute first. The player had always reached it before they could. Even if she didn’t have the system pressuring her, she would’ve been hesitant to entrust it to the Followers and the others because of the unknowns and stakes involved.
Her fingers traced the edge of the panel. She glanced at Arnaud. “It would be best if no one claimed it.”
He studied her. “…Except you.”
“If possible, I would prefer not to take on that responsibility either. But I may be the only one who understands what it is — and what to do with it.”
“That is a bold claim.”
She lifted a hand, gesturing loosely. “Look around. We are deep within Beld Thylelion, surrounded by buried Zuverian secrets and mechanisms. And we are here because of me. That, I believe, earns me the right to be bold.”
He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze stayed on her, steady, sharp, and perceptive. It was just for a moment, but she almost worried that his supernatural senses could somehow strip the truth from her words.
Of course, she knew better than to believe that.
She didn’t look away until it was clear he wouldn’t press further. Then she returned her attention to the panel, making a few more idle adjustments that produced no discernible effect.
“Eventually, Baroness,” Arnaud said, after a long pause, “you’ll have to stand by those words.”
Scarlett’s fingers stilled briefly. “I am prepared to.”
Another weighty silence settled between them. She wouldn’t go as far as to call it tense, but Arnaud had a way of making these quiet moments feel deliberately intense.
She noticed a shift in his posture as he rested a palm lightly on the hilt of his sword, lost in thought.
“You are a great deal like she said you were,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I thought I had a clear sense of your character after our first meeting. But you become harder to read with time.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed slightly. “…Who said that?”
“Yamina.”
She frowned, turning sharply towards him. There was a faint, wry curve to his mouth now. A quiet, knowing amusement in his expression.
How was it that he seemed so good at shifting from one mood to another? Was that intentional? To get others to let their guards down and draw out their truths? The more she interacted with him, the more she was starting to think that was the case.
He was a Shielder. One of the strongest people in the empire. Why couldn’t he just be content with that and leave the subtler methods of social manipulation to nobles like Lady Withersworth?
Scarlett lowered her gaze. “You trust her a great deal, it appears.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“She’s earned it. Much like, I imagine, you earned the trust of my daughter and the others.”
“I see. And how do you know her?”
Arnaud gave a soft chuckle, a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “We go back quite a way. In fact, she helped me meet my wife — Allyssa’s mother. Something I’ve owed her for ever since. That must have been…twenty-three years ago now.”
Scarlett cast a sideways glance at him. While he certainly looked good for his age with his light brown hair and well-kept moustache, he was somewhere in his late forties. Meanwhile, Yamina Ward should only be a few years older than Scarlett herself.
“Correct me if I am mistaken,” she began slowly, “but Miss Ward cannot have been more than ten at the time.”
“No, you’re right,” Arnaud said. “Even as a lass, she was a rather unique one. I was still young myself — a freshly minted Shielder under my old master, Hessel. Yamina’s father was a close associate of his. Not quite friends, but near enough, in their own way. My master often had me accompany him on travels across the continent, and Yamina’s father would appear sometimes, occasionally with her in tow.”
He tapped a few fingers against his sword’s pommel. “She was always…sharp. Odd, some might say, though not in a bad way. Quiet and observant, my master described it. One never got the impression that she wasn’t paying attention. She had a particular way of knowing things before anyone said them. And when she spoke, you listened — not because she demanded it, but because it felt like there would be more weight to her words than her age should’ve allowed.”
Scarlett’s frown deepened. She wasn’t actually familiar with who Hessel was, but if he had trained someone like Arnaud, that alone said enough. Particularly if he was close—or at least frequently interacted—with Yamina’s father. The man had reportedly been one of the most gifted wizards to come from the Rising Isle in generations, and had essentially led the Isle until his death.
She studied Arnaud. “Did Yamina predict that you and your wife would meet?”
“Not exactly.” He smiled, his eyes drifting somewhere far off. “It’s a rather personal story, so I’ll spare you the details. But Yamina nudged me toward a choice I might not have made otherwise. If she hadn’t intervened when she did, perhaps my wife and I would never have met. To this day, I remember that moment clearly — the way the sun hit my wife’s hair, the way she smiled. I fell in love at first sight, truth be told.”
“Dad, please don’t start talking about mom to her,” Allyssa called over, visibly cringing.
“Don’t worry, my little sugarplum!” he called back, smile only widening. “You’ll understand these things better once you grow up.”
“I’d rather not, if it means becoming like you.”
That earned a full laugh from him.
Scarlett remained quiet, watching.
So Yamina had been at things ever since she was a child. Moving through the lives of important story characters, and even shaping their paths to some extent. Considering the questions surrounding the woman, Scarlett couldn’t help but wonder whether Yamina’s presence aligned with or defied the Fate that governed this world.
Her gaze drifted towards Allyssa, outwardly seeming rather embarrassed by her father’s behaviour yet not entirely able to hide the smile on her face.
…As far as Scarlett knew, neither Yamina nor those connected to her should be major divergences from Fate. At least not according to the [Orrery of Dissonant Convergence]. Was it safe to trust in that? The thought nagged at her.
She turned back to Arnaud. “So you have known Miss Ward for over two decades. And even now, your trust in her remains firm?”
He met her eyes. “I don’t pretend to fully understand her, but I’ve had little cause to doubt her.”
“She never gave you specific instructions for Beld Thylelion? No further guidance? Only the note?”
“That was all.”
Scarlett eyed him for a moment longer. Fynn hadn’t flagged any lies since they arrived, so Arnaud was likely telling the truth. Still, the simplicity of it sat a little too neatly.
“…And you truly have no idea what her end goal is?” she asked.
Scarlett turned back to the panel and adjusted another segment with a flick of her fingers. It pulsed faintly beneath her touch as she considered everything.
“…She is not what I expected,” she said.
“That seems to be something you two have in common,” Arnaud remarked.
She gave him another look, but said nothing.
Comments
tachi-kawa
Man, it's too bad Scarlett doesn't have some kind of personal music player to replace the in-game BGM. I think there was some kind of old-school profession that did basically that? Ends with an -ard, starts with a b-, I think? Well whatever it is, it's not like she'd bring a non-combatant like that into an endgame dungeon, so I guess the point is moot. >_> If Yamina actions aren't diverging from fate, then that can only really mean... That she's going out of her way to align things *to* fate? Is she some kind of human-shaped fate enforcement terminal or something, or just that good at divination and thinks the way things are meant to go doesn't need changing? Many questions.
Martin
>>>“Involving outside parties inevitably introduces variables I cannot easily predict,” she finally explained, her tone impassive. “And I have a distinct distaste for unpredictability. Things would be far simpler if everyone were content to simply follow instructions with only the information they were given and no desire for more.”<<< This monologue is almost fitting for a tech priestess's mindset in the WH40k universe. Efficiency and the shortest path to reaching your goals with the least expenditure of resources are preferable. It is only fitting that Scarlett has said this while tinkering with an ancient Zuverian transport archeotech. On the other hand, Yamina probably plays a more important part in this world than it looked like after her first introduction. I speculate she might have been aware of Scarlett's arrival for some time through her divination, and she was indirectly guided to help Scarlett and prepare some prerequisites for her.
