Blood Magus

Zeth stood in front of the mineshaft’s entrance.

The last time he went through there, he watched his entire mining contingent die, met their murderer, and then went missing for four months. But the personnel manager’s office was in there, so if he wanted to get his salary from Garon, that was where he’d have to go.

A group of four people walked past him, chatting among themselves. He glanced at the backs of their boots. Otis & Roul’s Mining Guild. The exact same emblem that was on the back of the Blood Mage’s boot, back in the mines on that day. Any one of these people could be the one.

Zeth angled his face downward, avoiding eye contact with the people around him. It had been dark in that cave, and everything had gone fast enough that it was unlikely the Blood Mage got a good look at him. Plus, it’d been four full months from their perspective since they last saw him. It wasn’t likely they would recognize him just from a passing glance. But he wasn’t eager to give them the chance.

So, he walked in at a brisk pace, unwilling to risk staying here any longer. He passed by a few people he recognized and plenty he didn’t, going through the wooden doors and entering the mineshaft proper, and turning down the familiar hallways to find the section that would have the personnel manager’s office. He remembered the route better than most because of the number of times he’d been called here to be reprimanded for disrespect or mouthing off or “anti-guild conversation,” whatever that last one meant. They never fired him—only threatened to—because he always accomplished his tasks just fine. But Garon certainly didn’t like him. And it seemed like the moment he found an excuse, he got Zeth out of there.

Once he reached the door to the office, Zeth took a breath, preparing himself. He’d only been rid of Garon for a few days from his perspective, but he was already not eager to talk to the man again. If he had his way, the only time he ever saw the man for the rest of his life would be the day he killed him. Though, hey, maybe Garon had transformed into a new, better person over the past four months he was gone.

Zeth laughed to himself. Yeah, right.

He opened the door and strode in, ready to demand his missing pay from the bastard. And maybe give him a verbal beating, too. For old times' sake.

But when he gazed at the person sitting behind the desk, Zeth found a completely different person.

“Hello,” the woman said in a monotone voice, not looking up from her paper. Her wrinkled face barely moved when she spoke, like she was dedicating as little energy as possible to communicating with him. “Why’re you here?”

Zeth blinked. Who was this woman?

He took a step forward. “Uh, I’m here to get my last salary. I was removed from the guild and haven’t received it yet.”

She still didn’t look up. “How long ago?”

“What?”

“How long ago did you leave the guild?”

“Oh, there was an incident, so it’s been a while. Four months.”

“And you still haven’t claimed your last salary?”

“No. This is the first opportunity I’ve got. Do you need my name, or…?”

“I won’t be able to do that for you. I replaced my predecessor, Garon, more recently than you left. I don’t have records of your leaving or your pay dating that far back. You’d need to speak with Garon about that.”

“Wait, you replaced Garon?” Zeth asked. He had a wonderful thought. Had Garon, too, been fired? Oh, the bliss he’d feel if that fucker went broke and was out living on the streets now.

“Yes, I replaced him around three months ago, when he was promoted to overseer.”

The excitement slipped off Zeth’s face like he was made of ice. “Oh.”

“You’ll find his office in the outside building.”

He sighed. “Got it.”

Dejectedly, Zeth turned and walked out of the room, down the same hallways, out the same door, finding himself aboveground once again, and started toward the large office building located near the mineshaft. This was where all the higher-level managers resided, making decisions related to trade and legality and all that other complicated stuff. Evidently Garon had gone and gotten himself a nice, cushy job to replace one where he actually had to look his employees in the eye.

When the building came into view, though, Zeth saw it halfway demolished. An entire wing of the large wooden structure had been burnt to the ground, and the rest was only barely standing. Scorch marks covered the entire thing, rubble surrounded it, and almost every wall had some sort of hole or crack. Countless builders surrounded it, working to fix the most egregious sections.

Seemed like this place took a beating from the fleshtaker attack. Or, rather, it took that beating from the fire. Which, if Turin’s knowledge was to be believed, that fire was caused by the Blood Mage he was hunting. A demon apparently got on the loose, huh? Maybe this was where it had been released.

Zeth walked up to the front door, which was only partially destroyed, and opened it, gazing around. He’d never been in here apart from the brief visit when he was first hired, so the interior was still relatively unfamiliar. Plus, it was in the middle of being rebuilt, which certainly added to his disorientation.

He walked into the entrance room, full of chairs and benches, and asked for directions from the young man at the front desk. He was given directions to go down some series of hallways to find the overseer’s office, and off he went.

It seemed that the portion of the building that housed the overseer’s office was one of the more destroyed sections. Entire hallways were missing walls, exposing Zeth to the open air as he walked, and several doors were completely gone, allowing him to glance at employees working in offices, dark storage closets, and many other mundane things. He wondered if it would be rude to just step through one of the broken sections of wall and take a shortcut outside to get to Garon’s office.

Eventually, though, Zeth did reach the room he had been directed to. Its door looked brand new—likely already replaced. He took a long breath, trying to re-prepare himself to see the man, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened the door and stepped through.

“We expended three in the fleshtaker attack, so get those replaced,” a familiar, ugly voice was in the middle of saying when he entered. “And assign Denton and Maine to work on the other—”

The voice stopped.

Zeth opened his eyes, seeing the man he hated and trying to keep his face from automatically twisting into a scowl.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Garon sat behind a desk, looking as irritating as Zeth had always known him. He was partially balding, having combed his hair over in a failed attempt to hide it. Zeth remembered how he would always get pissed at anyone who mentioned his hair, like it was their fault he didn’t do literally anything else to keep it from looking horrible. His face was slightly chubby, sagging at the cheeks, but the rest of his body looked weak and skinny. It honestly made Zeth angry just looking at him.

“U-um, sir, should I leave?” a small, hollow voice asked.

Only then did Zeth’s tunnel vision end and he realized there was someone else in the room, sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk, holding a pencil and paper like he was taking notes. This person made even Garon look like he was a bodybuilder, with sunken cheeks and wrists you could wrap a single finger all the way around. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week. And by his baggy, exhausted eyes, he probably hadn’t slept in just as long.

Garon ignored the man, staring at Zeth. “Well? Tell me what you want or get out. And what’s with that expression?”

He blinked. “Uh, it’s me. Zeth.”

“Alright, Seth, tell you what,” Garon replied. “You go ahead and stand right there, and some nice men are gonna come, remove you from my office, and put you outside. Go and play with a rock or something.”

“What? No, I’m Zeth. I used to work for you. I’m here because you fired me and haven’t given me my last pay yet.”

“Ugh,” Garon said with a sigh. “Just go away and I’ll get it to you when I get it to you.”

“No. The money is rightfully mine. You have to give it to me when I’m fired, and you haven’t yet.”

“I-I’ll go ahead and leave,” the small man said, getting up from his chair and hurrying out the door. Garon paid him no mind, but Zeth turned and watched him go, frowning as he looked at the man’s shoes. Unlike everyone else in this building, this guy wasn’t wearing a uniform for Otis and Roul’s. Where did he work, if he was taking orders from Garon? Maybe he was one of the construction workers? But Zeth knew Otis and Roul’s had their own personal construction division they used for stuff like this—they wouldn’t use people from outside the guild.

“Who was that guy?” Zeth asked after the man disappeared.

Garon’s face twitched. “That’s not information the likes of you need to know. Just get out of my office.”

“Again, no,” Zeth said. He took a step forward. “I’m not leaving until I get the money you legally owe me.”

“Damn lowlife piece of shit, bothering me when we’re already busy with this crisis,” Garon muttered, glancing downward while rubbing his forehead. Then he looked back up, speaking directly to Zeth again. “If you’re so insistent that I’m breaking the law by not giving you this money within a fraction of a second of you demanding it, why aren’t you flanked by guards right now? How about, if you’re so convinced you’re in the legal right, you leave me alone and come back when you’ve got them with you.”

Zeth took two more steps forward, closing the distance between him and Garon before he slammed his hands against the man’s desk. “How about instead, if you don’t give me the money I am owed, I just cave your fucking skull in?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Garon flinched back instinctively at Zeth’s sudden advance before quickly composing himself. “S-step away from me, scum. Threatening me like that, you can’t say that to me without there being consequences. Damn lowlife commoners. People like you need to learn your place.”

“Consequences? Yeah, like what? You’ll fire me? Withhold my pay? Maybe make me work overtime? You’ve already done all you can, dumbass. I don’t work for you anymore—you have no leverage over me.” Zeth chuckled, relishing in the fact that Garon couldn’t order him around anymore. “Also, who are you calling a commoner? I know you, Garon; you don’t have a drop of noble blood in you. You’re some random manager at a mining guild, for the gods’ sakes. You’re not some prince riding around in a golden carriage. Gods, you are so pathetic.”

His face screwed up in anger. “Ignorant little s-slug. There are more ways than bloodline that a person can be inferior.”

Zeth rubbed his temples with his hands. Gods, he just wanted to break this man’s nose over his knee. But right now, doing so would cause far more problems than it would solve. Though it certainly would solve some. “Listen. You owe me my pay. You have owed me my pay for months, now. And I even heard that when a family member came by to ask you for it, you actively refused to give it to them. If I did what you’re asking and actually went to get the guards and make a whole stink out of this, you understand they would inconvenience you far more than I am? If you want me out of your office, just give me my money and I will leave.”

Garon shook his head in exasperation, then bent over and opened one of his desk’s drawers. “Lowlifes are so damn needy. Fine, Seth. I’ll see if we actually owe you any money.”

Thank the gods, Zeth thought. If he’d been forced to stay any longer, he really was afraid he’d have no choice but to start beating Garon to death.

Rifling through the drawer, Garon asked. “What’s your full name?”

“Zeth Valerian.”

“Seth Valerian, Seth Valerian…”

“No, Zeth. Not Seth.”

“Oh. Sure. Uh…Here we go.” He sat back up, holding a sheet with fine writing on it. Dragging his finger down one side as he scanned down the page, he hummed until he eventually found Zeth’s name. “Okay, here we go.”

“See? I’m still owed some pay.”

“Right, right, we owe you…” Garon paused, then let out a chuckle. “That’s it? Just a few coins? Heh, I guess for a little commoner like you, a single handful is quite a bit of money. I don’t think I’d even notice if that much went missing from my purse.”

“Just get me my money,” Zeth said through clenched teeth. Was this guy physically incapable of going ten seconds without another snide fucking comment? Did he have some sort of parasite in his brain that forced him to become the most insufferable human being in the entire realm every time he opened his mouth?

Rolling his eyes, Garon reached into another drawer in his desk and pulled out a pouch and a few coins, slipping them in and drawing the pouch’s string before throwing the pouch to the other side of the desk. Only, he misjudged the force he tossed them with, and the pouch sailed right over the edge, hitting the planks by Zeth’s feet with a clink.

“Whoops,” he said with no remorse in his voice.

“You’re not gonna come pick it up for me?”

“No, you go ahead. I’m quite the busy man. Besides, I’m sure someone like you should be well-practiced in scrounging around for coins lying on the ground.”

“‘Busy man,’” Zeth repeated with the roll of his eyes as he bent over to snatch up the coins. “Yeah, I’m sure the guild would collapse without you around to push pencils. What do you even do here? Come up with new ways to commit safety violations? Brainstorm excuses for why you’re cutting pay again this year?”

“I’ll have you know, I—” Garon cut himself off, apparently deciding against whatever he was about to say. But after a moment’s silence of him wearing an unsatisfied scowl as Zeth picked up the money, his expression morphed. “Actually, I am working on a project I think you’ll be just delighted to hear about.”

Zeth sighed, pocketing the money as he contemplated just turning and leaving right now before Garon could open his ugly mouth again. But it would probably be a good idea to at least hear what the man had to say. Hey, maybe he’d tell Zeth about his new job as some sort of bottomless pit supervisor, and Zeth could just drop by tomorrow and push him in. “Okay. What is it?”

Garon grinned sadistically. “I’m going to be mayor soon.”

Zeth froze. “What?”

His grin grew wider. “Yes, the current old man is stepping down after deciding he’s too senile to rule. And, due to my inherent ability to lead, he’s chosen me to succeed him.”

“What are you talking about? Since when did you know the mayor?”

“Oh, a commoner like you wouldn’t be able to comprehend the details,” Garon said, clearly relishing Zeth's confusion.

“Nobody in their right mind would appoint you mayor,” Zeth said. He genuinely didn’t believe it. No way Garon wasn’t just lying to get under his skin.

“I’m still trying to figure out what my first decree will be. Maybe…Hm, how about making every citizen come kiss my feet and pledge their fealty to me? I wonder if you have any family members I could turn into servants or concubines…”

“You’re talking about being a mayor, dude. Not the new ruler on high of the entire Oberian Empire. Don’t think you’re gonna have the power you seem to think you will. So, sure. Whatever. Go spend the rest of your days signing tax documents and trade treaties. See if I care.”

Garon’s grin turned into a scowl. “We’ll see if you keep that attitude for long. Things are changing around here, Seth. And you’ll be the first to experience the new world when you get a knock on your door and find yourself face to face with—”

He was interrupted by the door to his office opening and the sound of footsteps coming in. Zeth turned around to see who it was, and found that same small man from earlier.

“U-um, excuse me, sir,” the man said, bowing so low his forehead almost touched the floor. Then he looked over and saw Zeth standing next to him. “Oh, that man is still here. Is he causing issues? Would you like me to remove him?”

“Don’t bother,” Zeth said. “I was just leaving.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the room. His fist clenched tightly around the doorknob as he closed it behind him.

I have my money, I just need to get out, Zeth reminded himself. No matter how much he wanted to let out his anger on something nearby, it would be a bad idea. Just leave.

But Garon was acting strange. Stranger than he normally did. Who was that guy that acted so subservient to him? Otis and Roul’s never worked with outside entities—everything was done by an employee of theirs, whether it be digging in the mines, making equipment, or handling construction. And even if they did decide to break their streak and contract some other company to rebuild this office, that man certainly wasn’t treating Garon like a business partner. He was treating Garon more like a king, or a slavemaster.

Everything about that meeting was strange. The strange man, Garon’s attitude, the weird mayor thing? And when something went weird, Zeth’s mind immediately went to the mystery he was trying to solve. The unknown identity of the Blood Mage. Could it really have been Garon all along?

Zeth really wanted that to be the case. Honestly, the thought was borderline euphoric. Garon, that infinitely irritating jackass, actually being the person Zeth had been hunting this whole time? He’d been planning on killing the man, but that would make him even more deserving of death. It’d be killing two men with a single stab. Ugh, slitting his throat would be so cathartic.

He couldn’t get caught up in the fantasy, though. He had no real proof yet. All he had was one single interaction with a few strange details. Maybe Otis and Roul’s just changed their policies in the four months he was gone, and the strange man was really just some random construction worker. Maybe Garon was just a normal asshole. Zeth couldn’t jump to conclusions.

But he felt the pull to find answers. Perhaps he could try to eavesdrop on the conversation between Garon and that man? Though, he was standing right by the door now and couldn’t hear anything. If they were gonna discuss any sensitive information, they’d probably do so in hushed tones, or somewhere a person like Zeth couldn’t just barge right in. Where else could he figure out answers about what was going on here?

Even if Garon wasn’t really the Blood Mage, there was still something strange going on here. He’d mentioned becoming mayor, which Zeth believed was a lie but still wanted to confirm wasn’t true, but there was more beyond that. Why hadn’t anyone come looking for him and everyone else back in the cave-in? Was it really just because it would’ve been too expensive? And how was the Blood Mage able to keep their ritual circle hidden in the tunnels for so long? When it had been completed, it said it’d been going for several years, with hundreds of people being fed to it. Surely that couldn’t have gone on for so long without anyone knowing about it.

If Zeth wanted answers, he’d likely find them here. Maybe there was something hidden around here in one of the storage closets, or something. With the building half-destroyed and most of the rooms exposed, it gave Zeth a perfect, one-time opportunity to sleuth around.

So, instead of returning back the way he came, Zeth continued down the hallway, trying not to look too suspicious while paying close attention to what was happening through the cracked doors in the rooms he passed. There were a few offices with well-dressed people sitting behind desks signing various papers, there was a room with a big glass box with carved lines squiggling all throughout its interior—it looked like a three-dimensional map of the mineshaft and surrounding cave systems—there were rooms with big detailed drawings and diagrams on papers nailed to the walls of complex-looking mining machines with lists of every crafting Class and every Skill needed to create each one…It all looked very complicated.

But then, he passed by one small room that seemed almost deliberately understated. There were simple shelves lining the walls with a few scrolls and papers piled atop them, and nothing else. And despite its boring looks, the room caught Zeth’s attention more than anything else. He was drawn to it, like something inside was trying to connect with him.

He glanced up and down the hallway to make sure nobody was watching him, then crept in.

Once inside, Zeth grabbed a few scrolls from the shelves. Something about the air here felt different. Crackling. Powerful. He read the scroll, half-expecting it to be some detailed evil plan for world domination or recipe for cooking human meat. It was…an employee evaluation for someone named “Lom Bepper.”

Huh.

He put it back and kept looking. Another piece of parchment described the in-depth history of every single pickaxe the company owned. When they were bought, whenever they were repaired, who was in current possession of which—all tracked by a number carved into their handles. Not particularly interesting.

Zeth glanced across the shelves, looking for something that would catch his eye. It feels different in here. Like my mind is instinctively reacting to something. That feeling has to be coming from something, right?

Then, down on the lowest shelf, he saw a familiar object. It was a stack of the same type of papers Garon had looked through to find how much money he’d owed Zeth. Was this a copy of those? That could be interesting—at the very least, Zeth would be able to figure out if he’d been short-changed.

He picked up the stack and fingered through the papers, looking for his own name, until he eventually found it. It had a simple sketch of his face, his name, info about his employment history…nothing remarkable. It said his “withdrawal date” was three days after he’d gone missing, so it seemed like that was the day Garon decided Zeth must’ve been dead and fired him.

What a jackass, he thought. When did he decide the people that died in the cave-in had ‘withdrawn’ from the company? He knew they were for sure in that disaster, unlike me, who disappeared without officially going on the job, so if he really had no plans to ever save them, it’d be the same day as the cave-in, right?

He thumbed over to Nestor’s page. It said he’d been removed from the roster on the day of the…

Zeth frowned. No, that can’t be right.

He’d been removed from the roster the day before the cave-in?

It must have just been an error in the paperwork; someone put down the wrong day on his file. Zeth went to the rest of the people who had disappeared, checking their sheets. Every single one said the same day. One day before they’d actually died. Was Zeth getting his days mixed up?

If this was genuine, and they actually put these people down as dead before they'd even left, then whoever was in charge of this paperwork must have known ahead of time they were going to die. They must have been the Blood Mage themself. It would be a huge piece of evidence to point toward—

[Awareness check passed.]

Suddenly, it was like a veil had been lifted from Zeth’s eyes. Something appeared on the floor. Or, no—it had been there this whole time, and only now he could see it. Drawn on the wooden planks Zeth stood atop was a giant, intricate pattern, carved in the same chalky substance Zeth was deeply familiar with by now.

A ritual circle.