Escape of Yore

Jace

As I take the grimoire, break the window, and start running, I know I'm in the wrong. I know this will make everyone present who didn't even know me to begin with absolutely despise me. None of them will know what's really going on, nor will anyone care enough to look further into what's going on behind the scenes. Nowadays, the spread of misinformation is far too prevalent, and those who are willing to take the time to fact check information from credible sources are few and far between. If only one or two intellectuals are clearly and concisely explaining why a person is innocent from the midst of a mob of people petitioning for the aforementioned person's death on baseless accusations, no one will bat an eye when the person's head flies. That's why I can't turn back. I can't try to explain. No one will believe me. They'll all hate me. I'm awful, I know.

I can't help myself from writing in the journal. It's the only way I have left to cope with the situation I've got to deal with. Besides, it isn't like James would mind if his journal could comfort me. If only I could hear him complaining as he always did at times like these. I'm currently in the alcove I dug in the hill. I hope that the tree in front of the alcove and the snow all around supplies enough cover to conceal me from my pursuers for but this single night. As I silently sharpen my knives. Routine maintenance is necessary to keep any tool at peak efficacy. It took longer than usual, since my tears kept freezing to the blades, forcing me to repeatedly scrape off the frozen fluid to fit the daggers back into my belt. I've got to get away. I can hardly feel my fingers and toes, but at least the tree breaks the howling wind and prevents most of the snow and hail from reaching me as I drift in and out of sleep until the break of dawn.

They didn't find me as I slept. That means I've made it through the riskiest part of my escape. Since Alex, Hazel, North, and Quartz would have known their best chance at catching me would be to prevent me from leaving the Wanderers' Compound because they could control the weather and other natural conditions (such as the fog which is currently forming rapidly and this terrible, bone-chilling cold) without worrying about being hindered by such conditions themselves due to that damned crystal, they should all be exhausted from searching relentlessly throughout the night by now. In hindsight, I wish I had come up with an excuse to hold on to that accursed rock before I snatched the journal. Should I call it a journal? I guess James's book could also be referred to as a diary, a notebook, a memoir, an autobiography, or even a grimoire. I know I should just burn it. I know no one should know what's inside the journal, because I do. I just can't bring myself to rid myself of the last thing I have to remember James by. I get that he wasn't very photogenic, but anyone would be shocked by the fact that not a single photo of such an influential person could be found anywhere in the world. Now, the only thing I have to remember him by is the collection of the only things he's ever written down: his journal. Enough reminiscing. I'll continue to write once I've made it out of the compound—if I even manage to do so.

Damn it all. I should've known Quartz, being the renowned strategist she is, would factor in every little thing she knew about how I thought and acted into her response. While the others searched fruitlessly in the night, Quartz slept soundly on a carriage to the town I was about to ride into. If I hadn't decided to risk going back to the compound for Silence, I would have waltzed right into her trap with absolute confidence in my escape and all of my caution thrown to the wind. I'll have to camp out another night since the closest populated place within a reasonable distance from Vineston is Tidebreak (the port city). I have to go to Tidebreak regardless of the unforeseen circumstances as it is the only way I know of to get off the alliance's private isle without an almost guaranteed gruesome death awaiting you. In fact, I now have to rush to get to Tidebreak far earlier than I could have ever predicted, since Quartz saw through the majority of my decisions thus far. I wouldn't put it past Quartz to even realize that I went back to get my only remaining ally, my horse, before immediately setting out for the port at full speed ahead. Being driven in a carriage, Quartz will have to go down well-worn roads, but Quartz won't have to worry about exhaustion and may even have hired a second driver to allow the first driver to sleep while the second driver continues making progress for approximately six hours while I can do nothing but force myself to sleep in a hole in the ground. At least I've managed to make it out of that artificial dome of wonderless winter.

As I approach the giant gray gates of hewn stone with its towering turrets with guards patrolling, I give the gatekeeper my papers through a slit by the portcullis. Luckily for me, Quartz hasn't made it to the port yet, because if she did, she would have preemptively persuaded the gatekeeper and guards to deceive and arrest me. I may be flawed in many ways, but no one has managed to deceive me in the past decade. As I hurry past the colorful coastal homes and through the marketplace's mob, I instantly realize my naivety as I see a young woman of about average height with long, orderly scarlet hair, vibrant pink eyes, and a formal yet combat ready short, dark violet dress with golden lacing with a certain ornate golden wand hidden among the lacing at her hip. Her lustrous high heels may appear to be difficult to move around in at a glance, but upon closer observation one would realize that the footwear is quite unique in that the leather is soft enough to change shape at a moment's notice and the high heels of the footwear would detach if she hit the two shoes together due to the small protrusions that do not exactly match the intricate pattern of flowers on the shoes and the matching indentations with small buttons inside which act as a sort of lock and key mechanism to a detach the heels. Behind her, a gallant, purely white horse with piercing black eyes stands proud and at attention with no need for a leash. Quartz is on a raised platform with one of the latest non-magical voice amplification innovations—the microphone—ready to project her every word. Turning around my horse in this crowd would be nigh impossible. I didn't want to do this. I don't want to hurt anyone. Why? Why do they all want to read the journal so desperately? Did they all truly forget James's final words in a single year? He warned them of the danger the information within the grimoire could pose and that they should leave the disclosure of the grimoire's content entirely up to my discretion. I have two options: fight or flight. It would be best to kill every single person in this town.

I fled. I rode as fast as I could into the nearest shadow and using one of the few spells I've mastered—shadow shift—I picture what I imagine the shadow of the largest, furthest building I could see would look like based on the design of the building and the tiling of the road on which I rode. Just as I'm about to be spirited away by the shadows, every single member of the marketplace mob, enraged by Quartz's cold, calculated, emotionally rousing speech, turns to face me. As I vanished from sight, the last thing I saw before my spell was complete was countless arrows, crossbow bolts, throwing knives, hatchets, and even a vial of acid heading my way. That was close in more ways than one—if I had shifted a second earlier, I'd likely have slowly and painfully died after being merged into the pedestrian right in front of me, and if I had shifted a second later, I'd likely be skewered, stabbed, slashed, and melting from the first wave of projectiles alone. I need to get off of the island. I approach the harbormaster and secure passage to Unnatrulus. Once I reach the mainland, I'll need to get to one of the three hidden keeps James wrote about in his journal.

Quartz

I cannot believe this. Why did Jace take James's book and run? All we wanted was to know more about James. I understand that Jace knows more about James than any of us, having been James's best friend and all, but all we were trying to do was follow his last words—to read his journal and the will contained within exactly one year from the day of his demise. Without Jace, the leader of the Wanderers and the successor of James, the strongest force in the country is destined to disband. I am so angry; I have never been this angry before. North, Hazel, and Alex are just as or even more angry than me, yet we could not seem to decide on any one course of action. I, of course, reflected on everything I knew about Jace's personality, and decided to sleep through the night during the long carriage ride to Vineston, a small farming village that is known for its grapes, steaks, and wine. After arriving in Vineston and discovering that Jace was nowhere to be found, I riled up the villagers so that they would chase Jace away if he came to them and set out on my horse, Quicksilver, for Tidebreak. Since Jace would have had a chance to think things through regardless of whether or not he saw me in Vineston, He will think I am up to my usual tricks and go straight into Tidebreak without any doubts so long as I wait to manipulate anyone until he is inside the city. Using a microphone in the marketplace would be ideal, so I spoke with the mayor of Tidebreak and was given the approval I sought. Now, the gatekeeper would hear me and close the gate and the crowd would attack Jace. I am hardly able to comprehend where all this hate inside of me is coming from. No, I should not think about insignificant things such as that right now. I need to kill Jace and retrieve James's journal.

Jace has arrived. I did not have to worry about being vigilant during the nights as the gatekeeper was only allowed to open the gates during the day, and Jace was trying to buy passage on a ship to get off the isle, so he needed to enter the town properly to have his passage approved. When I saw a young man with a cloak, hair, and eyes as black as night atop his steed of an even darker hue with skin paler than snow (it is impossible to see anything else about him at a glance, but I know that he has seven daggers and a short sword sheathed at his waist, a crossbow on his back, crossbow bolts in a small, rectangular quiver on his back, and a hidden blade in each sleeve), I knew Jace had fallen into my trap. As he had his horse canter towards the shadows cast by the buildings at the edge of the marketplace, I rushed my impassioned speech and pointed Jace out to the freshly enraged crowd. Just as the crowd threw many manners of weapons at Jace, he shifted out of sight. I must not let Jace escape the isle, at least not without knowing his destination. What if I persuaded the harbormaster to tell me which ship Jace is taking and then turned the crew against him while out at sea? That could work.

The harbormaster agreed to my request and told me which ship Jace planned to board. After I saw Jace board the ship, I waited a minute then got on myself. Once I can no longer see the coast of the isle of Yore with the naked eye and Jace has gone to his quarters, I will rouse the crew and rally them against him.

I must see what James's grimoire contains, no matter the cost.

Jace

After getting on the Clotilda, I noticed something quite troublesome. If anyone was even slightly paying attention to their surroundings, he or she would be able to notice the sounds coming from beneath the deck in the spaces not taken up by the passenger cabins. I've unwittingly boarded an illegal slave ship. I can't just leave those innocent enslaved people to suffer now that I'm aware of their presence, but I also don't want to pass up the one situation in which I have an advantage over Quartz. I finally managed to predict her, and I made sure to keep track of which cabin she went into—thinking about it now, Quartz never picked up on my inhuman hearing's accuracy and precision, did she? Quartz may be a genius strategist, but she was always a little lacking in her observation skills. I'll just have to pretend to go to sleep tonight, sneak out through the shadows cast beneath my bed, and take over the ship by force. I hope I won't have to kill anyone, but it's not like I'd just happen to have enough manacles and or rope to bind all of the members of a ship's crew and passengers, but I did happen to take three pairs of magical manacles. The first pair prevents the conversion of stamina into magic power, so if a mage has used up all of their magical energy he or she will find himself or herself unable to produce more. The second pair prevents the use of the muscles of bound limbs, so, although it is hypothetically still possible to break the manacles with one's legs if his or her arms are bound, it would be physically impossible to use brute arm strength to break manacles binding one's own arms—or to do anything else while the manacles remain, for that matter. The third pair is one of my own designs of which I'm quite proud. The third pair of manacles makes the wearer completely invisible to everyone (except for the person wearing the paired ring) and entirely incapable of making any form of noise, whether through stomping, screaming, or any other conceivable means. If I manage to bind Quartz with the first pair after she's completely used up her magic power and stamina, I should be able to come up with something from there.

Quartz

Jace had gone into his quarters; I heard his door shut. I was about to leave my quarters and rouse the crew that had sailed throughout the day (allowing the night crew to continue sailing as usual) to attack Jace. Jace was always a softie, and there was no way he would harm innocents—no matter how much it may cost him in the long run. I am going to go to the crew's quarters now, I will likely continue writing once I am certain that Jace has drawn his last breath. Do I really need to kill him? Why am I questioning myself? The answer is obvious. Jace must die. I must retrieve the grimoire at all costs.

Just as I went to leave the room, I saw Jace standing before me with a knife at my throat. He has always been too soft for his own good—he should have claimed this neck when he had the chance. As I jump back, Jace throws daggers at my arms and legs with uncanny precision and, swirling his cloak around himself, disappears from sight as the lantern's flame flickers. I dodged all but one of the daggers which he threw to hit the lantern to cause a momentary flicker in the flame which I attempted to block with my palm, but I was too late and the blade only left a shallow wound before hitting its mark. I forgot how terribly talented Jace was after the Wanderers spent a year apart to mourn James. He must be behind me. I turn on my heel and unsheathe the wand Jace gave me when he first invited me to join the Wanderers, spewing a line of condensed flame directly behind where I just stood...but Jace is no where to be seen. Just before I can convert more of my stamina into mana, I feel the hilt of what I can only assume is Jace's short sword hit the dead center of the back of my head. As I lose consciousness, I see the fire spreading across the far wall of the room and Jace heading towards it with two waterskins, one in each hand.

Jace

I've restrained Quartz. The hell was she thinking, using fire magic on a ship? If all Wanderers didn't carry enchanted bottomless waterskins, the ship likely would have sunk to the bottom of the Underway Ocean. When the crew came to check on the chaos, I used my designated artifact in hopes that none of the crew could detect mana usage. As I channeled mana into my mask, I put a single drop of blood from the dagger Quartz attempted to intercept on the ruby in the center of the mask's forehead. I told the crew in Quartz's voice with Quartz's body and face that I had knocked over my lantern and accidentally caused a fire which I successfully extinguished and gave the captain two gold coins which I preemptively took from Quartz's purse to compensate him for the damages. Luckily, since the scorch marks covered up the shallow holes left in the side of the ship by my daggers and the stench of smoke masked the scent of fresh blood, the crew bought my story and left Quartz's quarters. Twisting the ruby on the mask counterclockwise to deactivate my disguise, I go over to the unconscious Quartz who currently only I can see and make sure the two pairs of manacles are securely on her wrists. How am I going to make sure that Quartz and I never have to be in view of the crew simultaneously? I'll have to make sure that there are no emergencies that would require all passengers to come up from below deck. Also, why is there such a deeply ingrained spell on Quartz? I didn't notice it until now due to how expertly it had been weaved, but there is a spell I've never seen before carefully cast on Quartz. I estimate that it would have taken approximately three months of direct, uninterrupted spell casting to create such a meticulously woven spell that is so similar in nature to the curses of old. If I want to find out more about why Alex, Quartz, Hazel, and North are after the grimoire, I should start by investigating this intentionally ingrained abnormality. I may have no living allies left whom I can trust, but there is one place I have left to turn to.