Memories hidden in time
Trying to piece together memories from a sea can be tricky. I assumed at one time there were only two gods—our lord and the one who challenged him. Yet now? After all this time, I learn there were more.
It matters not—those two are now mixed into the sea of memory. Though understanding what happened at that place that scarred our lord is still hard to see, as if he does not want to remember and keeps it hidden even from me.
—Personal diary of the seer Nora, reflecting what she has seen after a millennium
Phase One, Day One
Mr. Nobody—that's what the thieves called him, and he loved it. He got to stand among the rich as a nobody, learn all their secrets. And any that pissed him off?
Well, they just had to pay more tribute or had a falling out with a secured shipment.
He breathed in deep from a hand-rolled cigarette with a shaky hand, watching the fools dance at another pointless party, still unaware what was coming. Hell, he might have been laughing, dancing right beside them a few hours earlier.
Yet the thieves were missing. And while everyone saw it as a blessing and had been spending their newfound boons of wealth not needed for tribute, he knew it was an ill omen. Something bad was coming, and it did not speak lightly.
No, it spoke loud and clear: I'm pissed and coming.
The issue he had was he did not know who. Well, before he didn't—now he did. Not liking secondhand info, he went to watch the fall of the slums and the rise of power of the church. Yet that's not what happened.
No, there was a rise in power—supposedly a new god. Not sure what bullshit that was, but he was smart enough to know games are always being played, and you're even in on the con when you get conned.
And he was always in the con. Drawing the last bit of his cigarette, he flicked it to the side, looking for a drink. Wanting to remain hidden but needing something more to help wash away the rest of the thought—he was no longer in on the con and wasn't sure what would happen next.
The laughter grated on his nerves, but he needed this—the familiar old life. He did not want to lose it, to see it go. But blood would be spilled, and he wasn't sure who was worth trying to save versus just himself.
"Look at you, Mister Smith! Normally a sight for sore eyes, but you're looking quite dreadful tonight. That's not like you to be so out of sorts—may I ask what troubles you? Over a drink, perhaps?"
He was surprised. He'd deliberately chosen a darker corner people tended to avoid, yet Ms. Lee found him easy enough. Was she looking for him? Studying her, she gave a smile full of life and spoke once more: "Don't give me that look," as she pouted, gently patting his chest.
"You're usually the first to seek me out in these dreadfully boring things. I was hoping you'd show for gossip." She scanned the room with a bored look, her smile blooming once more. "So imagine my surprise that you're not only here but in the shadows?" Confusion entered her eyes with concern once more. He knew she did not want to push and was having fun, but seeing him in this state...
Should he trust her? If not, they'd all die, and he really would be nobody since nobody would be left.
So he straightened his suit and fixed his tie, giving his best smile, which made her giggle, knowing he was once more in a good mood and would share gossip. "A trifle matter, dear Ms. Lee," as he took her arm and they both went deeper into the party.
The sound of laughter and music now louder drowned out most things, but not his real thoughts. He would trust her. He did want to save them—even those he hated. Can't have rivals in a city if they're all dead. Maybe he could turn this into a new con—less informant to killer and more honest thief. He'd be making money either way, and fewer people need to get hurt.
"And then Kelly would not stop going on about the awful dress. It was all I could do not to shoo her away when I swore in the shadows I saw you, and there you were!" A hand patted his arm, drawing him back. It seemed she'd been talking for a while and he'd only caught the tail end. But she was laughing, happy, not noticing as she sipped a new drink.
"So tell me, what got you spooked? A deal gone bad? Don't tell me you owe money—I know you're smarter than that." Her words were probing, but she did not show real interest, more wishing for him to talk like he always would.
He studied her carefully, weighing his choices. Her green eyes, smooth skin, lush pink lips, and highest quality blue dress with soft hands that never knew a day of labor beyond the struggle of removing a dress.
He scratched his smooth face as he searched for the words. "What if I told you I had insider knowledge of something big?"
She did not look but smiled all the same. "Do tell—you know I love gossip."
"Death is coming."
She ignored him at first, processing his words. Then the glass almost slipped from her grip as she really heard them, her face now showing concern.
"Mr. Smith, I fear it's a cruel joke. If you wish to jest, it's in poor taste."
Grunting, he drank deep from his cup. She watched him carefully, waiting for the apology that never came, and frowned, knowing this was more.
"So that's why you hide in those dreadful shadows? Trying to avoid that fate?" She gasped, covering her face with her free hand. "Is it coming for all of us?"
"But how? The kingdom is safe. We never have to worry about such trifle matters. Why else do we have the knights? And the champion, no less—you told me, remember?"
He did tell her they were safe countless times. And for fun, scary stories—just revealing enough about the champion's rise in power and fame, hunting outside their walls. He'd assumed one day he might curry favor with him and betray the thieves, selling them out.
So when they faded practically overnight with no word on who or how, he knew it was real. Now this event with the bishop? Yeah, it was a done deal.
"You're as insightful as you are beautiful, Miss Lee. Let me share what little I know."
The talk was brief and mostly hushed. Even with the music and upbeat festival, they knew this wasn't something you shouted to all. No, it had to be whispered, and even then, trust that those who heard you wanted to hear.
He told her about the revolt in the slums, which was met with indifference—the affairs of the poor were tragic but not her concern. The poisoning of the bishop changed that tune, and the following message he heard sealed their fate and her faith in him as speaking the truth.
The message was simple: "We know you're an informant. Tell the upper class we're coming for them. This is the final offer. The last choice you will be given,"
She did not like knowing Mr. Smith was not the perfect gentleman, but she knew nothing in life was pure like glass. No, we all can be tainted by what goes inside. But she would choose to believe.
"Mr. Smith, what is your name? If I'm to believe, I need some assurance of who you are. For how else can we do business?"
He laughed at that, startling her. It was hilarious to him—she was trying to control the narrative and thought that him giving a name meant everything was well? Whatever. He never cared for his name, and what harm would it be to tell?
"Rick," he said bluntly, not caring to elaborate more or try to make it pretty with titles he did not have.
"Well, Rick, I'm Elizabeth the Third Grayson of Miller Lee Productions. Thank you for your trust."
Phase ?, Day Two
Rick had a restless sleep. He could swear he could hear the screams even from here, but at the same time wasn't sure if it was his own fear making them. He'd never heard the fights before—his house was far from the wall, and the walls were thick enough that he probably would have heard nothing even close.
He had connections with a spy with the king, but last time he tried contacting him the other day, he was met with silence. So either they were in on it or killed off. Either way, it was proof they were in deep.
He debated fleeing, cutting his losses, going with the dwarfs. They hated humans, but he could lay low, mingle for a bit, maybe suffer with the lower caste since they were more receptive until things settled. But if it was that easy, they would not save them for last. No, they were trapping them. The noose had been set days prior—before the bishop was probably the last chance to live.
Now they knew, and it was a choice.
Not a choice to leave—a choice to serve or die. He casually drew one of his handmade cigarettes from inside his inner pocket. He felt better today. Things were bad, but things were running on a system, and a system had rules. Just got to follow them and everyone's okay.
So what's the rule? Simple. Listen to what they say.
That's it.
Easy enough. Now who's going to listen is the question.
Phase ?, Day Three
Another uneasy sleep, but a new dawn. He had not seen Elizabeth since the other day they talked and planned to meet today. To give time to see if they could convince others, and whoever agreed would come. The goal was to gather everyone who would listen, who could speak for their family, in a ballroom. From there, if they still had time, plan their fate and wait for the outcome. There was no set time—it was all just hearsay.
Walking down the street, seeing the sun out, he even wondered if it was all a dream, a lie. He'd witnessed the first happen—a poisoning and revolt—just a dream?
But he knew they'd all wake up to a nightmare. They just thought they could keep dreaming.
He finally made it to the ballroom and was surprised it was packed. But not surprised there were servants and food being served, as if it was a party. Guess a day with a rumor wasn't much to change minds.
Elizabeth found him easily enough despite the crowd. He frowned, seeing her in a pink dress as if this was a formal event. He was underdressed and would be shamed if things were different—in a simple vest and leather pants. She saw him scowling.
"Don't give me that look, Rick. It is your words that brought us here in such a state. I still had to arrange affairs to accommodate others. Quite costly, I might add, if this is a ruse." She fanned her face, getting slightly flushed with annoyance, but presented her cheek for him to kiss in greeting.
He did, while clarifying: "It's not a ruse, Elizabeth. I have more to lose than gain from a lie, but all to gain if it's the truth, no?" She kept fanning her face, watching the crowd, but he saw in her eyes she was listening.
"Kelly mocked me, said I was envious and looking to lie."
"Tom agreed easy enough—think he just wants to bed me even with a wife. Quite scandalous, but he still cares, at least for his son, so he's choosing to believe. But when he pressed, I did not know what to tell him."
Rick grimaced at that. A test of faith when the faith was in an unknown and potential evil was hard to swallow for anyone, much less petty nobles. As she went on:
"My family mocked me, recoiled, even threatened to force me to my room to cool down from spreading mad ravings. But I told them I had a source on the outside—ground level. They at least were willing to listen after that."
She looked over at him, no longer fanning her face, smiling. "I used the gossip you shared in the past as the ruse to sell it. You tended to help us avoid the bandits, so they trust I had info on that alone. Thank you for that."
He felt bad she was praising him for randomly not using her as a mark. The thieves knew they had to pick their thefts carefully, lest it break the cycle of gold coming in and out, and he tended to let her family slip through where others did not.
"I did try," she said with a pout, confusing him.
He was lost in thought now, watching her, seeing the concern in her face. Aha, she thinks I'm disappointed. No, the opposite—she did an amazing job. He literally sat on his ass with indifference. She seemed to want to save lives. He'd only saved her on a whim.
"You did good, Elizabeth. You mistake my silence for disapproval, but I assure you it's merely thought of what's to come."
"You know more?" She was hopeful and deflated when he shook his head.
"BAH! THIS IS THE SOURCE?" A loud voice broke him from his talk with Elizabeth, and he saw a portly man he knew well—one of his rivals in information and business.
"Mr. Tanner, as I told you yesterday, this is a serious matter and my information is of new precedence." Elizabeth tried defending him while all eyes shifted, and beyond the hushed whispers, they gathered around to witness what was unfolding.
"What you told me, Ms. Lee, and probably ALL OF US." Tanner raised his voice, looking around, making sure he had eyes on him. Even this much had him sweating profusely as he dabbed his head. "I have informants too, Ms. Lee. Not a word was said before this day. NOT. A. WORD. Now care to explain that?"
He looked smug, as if that won, and that was that—even causing Elizabeth to look ashamed as she had no way to refute that.
So he gambled once more. He did not care who believed him after that, but he needed to respect how far Ms. Lee went for him. "I WAS THERE."
Collective gasps and whispers flooded the room before he even said the damning part. "THE OTHER DAY IT STARTED IN THE SLUMS. I STOOD AMONG THE RIOTERS AND WATCHED IT UNFOLD."
A few nobles fainted in shock, hearing one welcomed in their halls could go to such lowly places. "PROOF HE TELLS LIES! AMONG THE ROT, NO TITLE, AND WALKS WITH SLUM RATS? ABSURD!" Mr. Tanner capitalized on his gamble to shame him further, a smile on his face at the open folly to bury himself so easily.
"YES, IN THE SLUMS I WAS THERE. I SAW THE POISON TO THE BISHOP, AND THEY TOLD ME WHAT WOULD BE BROUGHT AFTERWARDS. A DARK GOD IS AMONG US."
He'd deliberately left that part out before, but now that all were here, it was the true test of faith and who would rise and fall.
"He's bloody mad—drank the rot water and still thinks he can walk among us." Mr. Tanner said in disbelief, not shouting, looking at Ms. Lee. "You still trust this man? A new god? And not the goddess of light? HA... HA... HAHAHAHA."
The slow laughter turned to chuckles from the room to a sea of mixed laughter and despair. He watched carefully those not laughing. Elizabeth was not laughing but was crying. It seemed this was overwhelming and too much for her.
"I did not lie," he tried consoling her. "I told you it was death coming. Now we're either on its side or not. I could not just tell you." He looked around with his eyes even as the laughter continued. "You hear them? That's why I chose to say nothing. I don't want to save those that will openly mock a god's mercy—or mine for trusting them."
She nodded, not trusting her words, but she did not flee his side, surprising him. No, surprising him more was the crowd parted in an odd way. The laughter gathered around Mister Tanner, and those not laughing and scared? Followed him.
O goddess, no. He was a shadow, not a damn leader. Yet now they were behind his back, and Mr. Tanner saw, eyes narrowing, not liking there could even be a hint of a divide.
"SO, MR. SMITH, WE BELIEVE YOU. NOW WHAT? WHERE'S THE PROOF? WHERE'S THE REVOLT? WHERE'S THE DARK GOD SO BOLDLY COMING FOR US? HMMM?"
He hated it—his cheeks burned in shame from being watched so openly. He liked being unseen, a shadow. Casually aware and noticed, seen as nothing more than a passerby at a party unless he needed a deal done. Not this. He could not speak.
"RICK DID NOTHING WRONG!" Both him and Mr. Tanner were shocked at the unprompted defense in his name from Elizabeth. Since when did he inspire such loyalty? She was fun to gossip with at parties, but nothing more?
Her cheeks were also inflamed, but she stood her ground. The fear from the eyes behind her and him did not show shame—they chose him. Not a resolve they believed, but they knew a reckoning was coming even if they were not 100% sure. They were better betting on black—the dark god—versus red—the blood that would come after.
It was a safe bet. Say you were misled if wrong—face a bit of shame. It would pass in a year, tops. But if right? That was a whole new game.
The room seemed to calm a bit with that. The lines were drawn and opinions said, even if nothing was resolved, as Mr. Tanner spoke one last time.
"Well, MR. SMITH, it seems you've won the hearts of the people today. A lie well told, it seems. But I also won the minds of a few with wit. Perhaps in time the others will gain some too?"
An uneasy chuckle came from his side from the jab, but the event was over. None felt like partying, and he wasn't sure how to feel. He thought it would be a quick cut, bleed them clean. This felt like a slow poison, and one that would fester.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJlQ1he75lX
and then Add to home screen.