Chapter 8.1: The More Things Change
The man you had absorbed was called Meyes. He used to be a cobbler in a Britannian village, before a mysterious masked man awakened his powers ten years ago. He had a family, a wife and two children, and now you had eaten him. There had been simmering tensions and clashes between the Empire, Skane, and the Britannia-Gallia alliance for most of the decade. You now know, from Meyes's memories, that each of the three powers was lead, whether in public or in secret, by your 'Successors'. This was what the people had taken to calling those who exhibited inexplicable powers - Ean's Successors. More and more of them had appeared about ten years back, emerging at at time where there were a host of pretenders claiming your name. The most powerful of these threw in their allegiance with each of the powers, and more and more of their brethren joined their ranks, as the powers these Successors wielded were a great boon to any nation.
Meyes had joined none of the three powers; his powers were not strong enough to be of immediate notice. Together with the other weaker Successors, he had formed a support group of sorts when war broke out soon after he gained his powers, keeping their neutrality and aiding refugees whenever they could. Soon, however, they had found that their group was not welcome - apparently the more powerful Successors felt threatened by their existence. Pressed to declare their allegiance, they were forced into hiding, hunted by all sides. The desperate Meyes had come to New Athens with only a few other comrades, seeking your aid. He thought that waking you up would be the only way to help them, and to stop the conflict ravaging the land.
That was not what you found the most troubling, however. Seven years ago, a great storm had swept the continent, its eye fixated above the wastelands of Olympus. When it ended, the weather, which had become ever colder, was no longer a problem. What replaced it was something far harder for humanity to adapt to: the realization of their dreams and nightmares, crystallized into living form. Fantastic creatures from myths and fairytales and legends crept out of the fog and mud left behind by the fog. Trolls began hiding under bridges, preying on unwary travellers. Sylphs could be seen darting through the air. Fairies were found inhabiting blossoming flowers. The plague of the walking dead that had begun and ended ten years ago was believed to be only an harbinger of such an event. It was as if two realities had been placed atop one another, the unreal seeping into the real.
Of course, you had always had experience with what normal people would call the unreal, and given what you already knew, you suspected this was all due to some dimensional shenanigans. Sekhenun would be of great help in figuring this out if she were here, but since she wasn't, you would just have to deal with it your way. You put the question of her death out of your mind - no point dwelling on that right now. If reports of her death were greatly exaggerated you would meet her again, of that you had no doubt. If it was true, the final stop of your current course would lead you to its cause anyway, and there would be some sort of reckoning, you were sure. Probably one with a lot of screaming involved.
"We're here. Father, is there something on your mind?"
You look up at the short raven-haired girl talking to you. Her name was Tenebrae, one of your Successors. She had been with Meyes when he reached New Athens, and had somehow become instantly attached to you.
"Look, this is the -"
"36th time," interjected a sandy-haired man with a smile. He called himself Dario. The man was a sharp thinker, and had been the one who had devised a way to lure Athena away long enough for Meyes to reach you.
"Thank you, Dario," you reply wryly. "Stop calling me Father. I look younger than you two, and it will attract too much attention, not to mention it feels wrong." You hadn't had time to be much of a father back then, having left before your only child even learnt to call your name.
"You've lived for far longer than we have, though. Looks aren't everything, father. All the memories I have of you taught me more than my real dad did. Or did you want me to call you daddy instead?"
"Just my name, please," you wince. Daddy was much worse.
Dario just laughed, and set down the gangplank. "You're a walking god. Once you meet the rest of the gang you'll be called much more names than this. I must say, you're not what I expected though."
"Did you expect someone with a great bushy beard?"
"Ha, yes. I expected someone a bit more imposing. There's also that matter about your presence... can't say I feel comfortable talking to someone that my mind says is not there, contrary to what my other senses are saying."
"I just woke up, cut me some slack," you grin. "As for the other matter..."
You concentrate, and project a presence. You had not forgotten how to do so, thankfully. Tenebrae's eyes went wide. "How did you do that?"
"I should be able to teach those with a talent in telepathy," you shrug and smile.
You had just reached a small port in the north of Britannia, on your way to meet the surviving members of Meyes's group. Athena had allowed you to leave without any further arguments, the Greek goddess somehow sprouting wings and flying off. It seems that in your long slumber, you had once again become the underdog in terms of power.
As you walk down the pier, talking to Tenebrae and Dario, you notice a group of sixteen heavily armoured soldiers walking towards you, bearing pikes, axes and crossbows. Their steps come to a pause - Tenebrae was exceptionally nervous. Metalwork had definitely advanced greatly since you left. Almost instinctively your eyes began poring over the joints and seams for any weak points you could exploit.
One of them holds up a board with paper tied to it, and glares at the three of you. "You two are Yellowstreaks are you not?" Dario smiles at the man warmly, stepping forward, and shakes his head at the euphemism thrown at Successors that did not pick a side. "We aren't Successors, but we would be honoured to be mistaken for one. We are just humble travellers fresh off the boat, looking for an inn where we could rest."
The soldier who had spoken stepped up and took a swing at Dario. His eyes narrowed - you sense a flash of deadliness from the man - but he did not step back or retaliate, instead taking the blow on his chin and sprawling to the floor. "Our Lady of the Martyrs has foretold your coming and requests your presence." growled the soldier. "There will be no lies where she is involved."
As you help Dario to his feet, he mutters to you quietly, "I have no desire to be brought before the Lady. She is one of us, except quite a bit more powerful. I don't think she will let us go freely if we come into her grasp."
You glance at the soldiers again. Tenebrae seemed on the verge of cracking and fleeing, and that would certainly draw an armed response from the soldiers.
***
A. You would have words with this Lady of the Martyrs. You convince Dario and Tenebrae to go along with you and meet the Lady. No matter what she plotted, you were sure you could keep them safe.
B. Sixteen armed men would not be a problem for you even with the unfamiliar heavy armour. You dispatch them quickly so that you are free to go. If the Lady of the Martyrs wanted a meeting, let her come.
C. You fight so that Dario and Tenebrae can flee, but give yourself up so that you would be brought before the Lady of the Martyrs. You will meet up with them again after you have ascertained the Lady's intentions.