The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

The crowd stood outside the smoldering wreckage of the Magrio Broadsheet’s building, now made up of embassy staff, random people, and at least four guards.

Mirian considered her options. By now, it was a bit late to hide her presence in Palendurio to anyone paying attention. On the other hand, she didn’t think Sulvorath could mobilize in time to do anything to her. If he even waited two days, he couldn’t go south by train. What about his airship? Is he still destroying it as soon as he arrives?

The crowd was still staring. I can still disappear after this. Let’s see what kind of a disruption I can make.

“The dead ones are Pure Blade mercenaries. The group is responsible for attacking the Akanan Embassy, and then trying again to finish them off just now.” Mirian said loudly, gesturing to the Akanans who were even now trying to brush the soot off and get the ash out of their lungs. With this big a crowd, there would be no more silencing. Sulvorath and the agents he could muster gained an advantage when the truth was veiled and they could strike from the shadows, not when she’d already mobilized a backing of supporters.

There were murmurs in the crowd. The guards weren’t sure what to say.

“The Pure Blade impersonated the Palendurio Guard, stealing from their armory in preparation, and killing at least one of the guards at Ducastil,” she announced. “They then assassinated Governor Palamas.”

This time, the crowd’s voice was full of shock and anger.

Mirian walked over to Betella. “This woman was part of the Pure Blade, and has offered to testify to their crimes.”

Betella gave her a shocked look, then took a deep breath. “W-what… what he says is true,” she managed. “All of it.”

Mirian gestured for the guards to come closer, and lowered her voice. “These people need to be taken to a secure location, and protected. The Pure Blade was only one part of this conspiracy. Quash the rumors of Akanan merchants conspiring. Do not trust General Corrmier. They will be safest in King Palamas’s palace. You have traitors in your midst,” she said. “That’s why secretary Philus was also assassinated just a few days ago.” That was speculation, but she was confident of it at this point. The conspirators had already shown in Torrviol they liked securing the guard in order to run rampant. She just wasn’t ready to put all her guesses on the table yet, even if she suspected the Pure Blade mercenary in the canal had given her Captain Rufus’s name because he knew he would quash any investigation. Captain Rufus was also on the list of names Celine had given her who secretary Philus reported to.

“Who are you?” one of the guards asked.

“No one you’ve heard of,” she replied.

***

What followed next made Mirian want to pull out her hair. It took nearly an hour of the guard arguing amongst each other what to do while Mirian retold a summary of the events and they interviewed the embassy staff. Mirian finally gave her name as Micael, and there was much consternation as they tried to figure out who she was, even as she repeatedly explained that she was a nobody who had stumbled into this plot.

When they finally made it to Charlem Palace, the interrogations by guards were replaced by interrogations by increasingly skeptical officials. She had little time to appreciate the white marble and exquisite decorations of the place; her attention kept focusing on some idiot who wouldn’t listen to reason.

Having an entire gaggle of Akanan embassy workers who had been thought dead just a few hours earlier certainly made them hard to ignore, though, and every single one of them had seen the fake corpse lying in the Ambassador’s bed. Eventually, officials of the Crown agreed to host the embassy staff.

“Did you find any suspicious communiques?” Mirian asked Kathera as evening approached.

Kathera lowered her voice and spoke to her in Eskanar. “There were some strange messages going back and forth, but that’s nothing new. The Republic Intelligence Division isn’t supposed to use the embassy, but it does, and your own Department of Public Security knows they do. But regular staff aren’t privy to their coded messages.” She sighed and said, “But now they’re all burnt up anyways. Thank you, though. We owe you our lives.”

Mirian smiled, but in her head, she was thinking, just wait a few days.

The room they’d ended up in was full of velvet cushions and fine wood furniture, and four crystal chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling. The ceiling itself was painted, showing various battles the noble families had taken part of. Slowly, the room was emptying out as the embassy staff were found secure accommodations. By then, Betella had been escorted to a special room to be interrogated by the Crown Bureau (“Not the Deeps,” Mirian had insisted).

As Kathera departed, one of the Arcane Praetorians that had joined them in the room cleared his throat. Grestave, she remembered, from when he’d introduced himself some two hours ago. “There’s still the small matter of you, Micael,” he said. “You did freely admit to using illegal magic.”

“Gods above,” Mirian muttered, just wanting to be done with the talking. “Yes, that was me.” Can the fact that I just saved a dozen people’s lives directly give me a one-time pass? she wanted to say.

“You’ve been sidestepping your identity all evening. You implied you were a Deeps agent, but never actually said it. But then you don’t trust them, and those agents are not allowed levitation wands anyways except in specially approved cases. There’s no Micael of your age on the census records from Madinahr, by the way. I had the secretaries check.”

Again and again and again, Mirian thought. “The truth is less believable than the lies,” she said. She glanced around the room, and saw that there were several other guards hanging around the doors, ostensibly helping guide and protect the embassy workers and Celine, but it just as well barred her way as well. Stupid, Mirian thought. I should have just flown off as soon as the fire was out.

“Try me,” Grestave said.

Mirian embraced her focus, checking the Praetorian and everyone else in the room for any rune magic. Well, might as well try to talk before I fight my way out, she thought. Her auric mana was still low, but it had regenerated over the past few hours. “I’m going to reiterate something important. The Department of Public Security cannot be trusted. I know that because one of their agents is pretending to be Adria Gavell. But Adria Gavell died three years ago.”

Grestave looked more confused than worried. “That can’t be right.”

“All of Torrviol is compromised. It’s overrun by Akanan agents, and they’ve bought off the guard and killed anyone who could sound the alarm. A Deeps turncoat who goes by the name Specter is up there,” she started, while thinking again and again and again. How many times do I have to tell people about this? After explaining she said, “Now, what usually happens is someone like you goes running off because I’ve said enough scary stuff you want to check, but you don’t actually trust me. Then I explain a bunch of things to more people again, and so on and so forth until I’m absolutely sick of talking, and then everyone realizes I’m right, except by then I’ve done all the explaining, and I’ve learned nothing. But it’s me who needs to learn from you.”

The other guards were looking over, and Grestave glanced at them for reassurance. His hand went to his wand.

“Don’t,” Mirian snarled. “You think your orichalcum can save you? I can pierce it. Easily. Get your hand away from your wand and listen. You’ve started to get the reports of the strange magical eruptions, right?”

Grestave gave a careful nod, but his entire body was tensed up.

“It just gets worse from here. The reason you’ve never heard of me is that I’m a new Prophet. Only something’s gone wrong. There’s other Prophets too, traveling through time just like me, only, they don’t want to stop the cataclysm that’s coming. So I need the details about me to be left out of the reports. And I need people like you to help me start untangling the mess of Palendurio.”

“What you ask… isn’t possible,” Grestave said.

“How many impossible things do you need to see before your narrow mind widens?” Mirian snapped. She knew she wasn’t being diplomatic enough. She needed to be more strategic about getting information she could use later, but she was so tired of explaining herself, and fed up with the hours of frustrating talks they’d already had.

“We can investigate your claims, but we can’t… these things take time,” Grestave said.

“You don’t have time,” Mirian said. “In one day, the newspapers and agents of an unknown party—probably the Deeps—are going to provoke riots. In two days, General Corrmier uses that as an excuse to bring in the army, the first stage of a coup against Baracuel’s rightful government. Who controls the Pure Blade? His nephew. And the Pure Blade already struck at the king’s brother. In three days, the Akanans will begin their invasion of Baracuel. Are you starting to understand, yet?”

Grestave was silent, and now, Mirian could see that he wasn’t sure what to do.

“There’s too many variables at play, and I need more information. In three days, I’ll be back to talk with you. You have my word. Go,”—she waved her hand around—“investigate.” She started walking for the door, though she was paying close attention to her peripheral vision.

“Wait. Wait—I… I can’t just let you—”

“Tell them you couldn’t stop me,” Mirian said, and then she was out the door. Briefly, she felt the tendrils of a hold person spell, but her own orichalcum caused the spell to fail. Then, she was down the hall, then out in the courtyard, and then she just levitated away, ignoring the shocked looks of the people in the courtyard.

***

She stopped by the Royal Couriers. Sure enough, her two letters were waiting.

Lecne’s letter was similar. Deeps operations intensified in Cairnmouth. The cult had been able to rescue several people who were taken for interrogation. Those people reported being asked repeatedly about her, and also a series of strange questions about events. So Sulvorath’s also trying to find key timeline markers of activity.

There were other questions too. They got information about names, places, contacts, and information that they knew that no one else knew. He’s looking for more people he can exploit.

Abruptly, the Deeps investigation had cut off sometime around the 15th.

Mirian read Valen’s letter next.

It began with her describing several erotic scenarios, and Mirian found herself blushing as she skimmed through it. Of course you did, she thought, and then found herself chuckling. She felt her shoulders relax, and realized how much tension she’d been storing there. Mirian took several deep breaths, then continued to the important part.

Valen had taken several pages of notes, far more than Lecne. Maybe too many notes. Some of it was inane garbage about rumors among the students—though Mirian realized that was actually quite helpful to compare to what she knew the rumors were like long before Sulvorath’s incursion. The next part detailed the changes that had overcome Torrviol. Jei disappeared, as she usually did. Guards started arresting and interrogating people, seemingly at random. Several others disappeared, but the guard denied any knowledge of it. Again, he’s looking for details about people’s lives. Power through information and established social structures.

Then, on the 14th, Archmage Luspire was involved in a fight. What actually happened was unclear, and Luspire certainly hadn’t told anyone that would talk to Valen about it, but it ended with a smoking hole in Torrian Tower.

Shortly after, the Torrviol Guard was banned from entering the Academy grounds and Luspire deputized several senior apprentices as guards. Mirian found herself grinning. If she was right, Luspire had killed either Specter or Sulvorath. Either way, his control of Torrviol and Cairnmouth had been severed. Looks like I won’t have to go into hiding after all.

What was interesting was also what she didn’t see evidence of. Sulvorath clearly knew magic, but there was no evidence of professors suddenly being pulled for special lessons. It was political power he was going after.

And for him, it must be easy. If you just let things go the way they’ve been going, there’s social inertia. He’s not trying to change anything or topple anyone, just seize the reins and join them. I’m always fighting against the current. I’m trying to stop the conspiracy, but he’s just embraced it. My work will always be harder, but his limits his flexibility.

As Mirian returned to the Bard and Lion and started reinforcing her wards there, she contemplated the dynamic. Sulvorath thinks this can be won by seizing the levers of political power, especially the intelligence networks and elite. The southern traveler thinks it can be won by military power and strategic genius. I’m relying on magical power and deep knowledge of the crisis.

Perhaps she was the fool, but she couldn’t help but think that the other two time travelers were ignoring the phenomena that were causing the crisis in the first place. And it’s a magical phenomenon. Even if they’re right about how human power works in normal circumstances, these aren’t normal circumstances.

Though it does seem Sulvorath is studying the Divine Monument. But he’s also killing Jei each cycle, the key researcher of the Monument. How does he expect to make progress?

Mirian brewed a cup of Zhighuan tea, thinking of Jei as she let the aroma waft about, and took a seat out on her balcony. Every so often, a faint glow would touch the darkening sky. The eruptions are more intense along Palendurio, and when the leyline destabilizes, it causes the most damage here. Is that chance, or is there a reason for it?

She continued to contemplate what she’d learned. At a certain point, I’ll have to wade into the fight for political power. But right now, I can’t both stay hidden and make a play for the levers of power in Palendurio. I can’t risk getting the attention of the Deeps too early in the cycle. This time, I got lucky. I can’t count on that sabotage technique to work every time.

So what would it be? Magical power is the only kind I can take with me. And if I can figure out how the Prophet’s relics work, I can gain an advantage no one has. The Ominian would have foreseen all of this. I must have the time I need.

Mirian did wonder still where the power for the time loop came from. Jei’s equations implied there must be a huge injection of arcane power to send a soul back. Is it drawing from the leylines? Maybe those will stabilize and weaken on their own. Is that what the other travelers are assuming? But there’s no data on that. It could very well be coming from a divine source we can’t even conceive of. Maybe they assume the Ominian will end the loops when They’re satisfied with the outcome. After all, that’s presumably what happened with the other Prophets. But isn’t the outcome They want us to change the moon falling? Surely, no outcome that results in the destruction of Enteria would satisfy Them.

There were too many questions. Too many paths to explore. She’d made up her mind, though. She needed to focus. Her attention was split among too many goals, and it could too easily lead to a mistake. Politics would have to be set aside. The Prophet’s relics had to be her top priority.

In the morning, Mirian bought several more myrvites off the Syndicates, then donned the acolyte’s robe she’d ordered from the tailor’s shop and headed for the Grand Sanctum.