Chapter 95: Ragmár’s message

It felt as if Ragmár was sitting right in front of him. Once again, and for what Sen knew to be the last time, he could feel the presence of his friend. The warmth of the atmosphere around Ragmár. The kindness and compassion of someone who had always stood by his side. 

Sen saw the boy he’d pulled out of the wreckage of his home, and the friend who’d convinced him not to kill the God of Demons, but to force him into an agreement. He saw the man he’d fought alongside on the battlefield where he killed the Dreadgiant king Garlon and ascended to godhood. Sen saw the king whom Ragmár became. 

All of a sudden, he was sitting at a table in front of Ragmár. It was as if he’d stepped out of time and into this appointed meeting place. He knew it was just a memory, or rather, a recording of a memory. But still, it was nice to see his old friend like that. Ragmár didn’t look like he had when Sen had stepped out of his temporal world. Even though he’d been an old man when he’d recorded this, to Sen, Ragmár looked like the version he’d known best.

The one he’d fought the God of Shadows with. 

Ragmár sighed. “I thought our kingdom would last so much longer, but there are forces at play here. Someone working behind the scenes to ensure the kingdom falls. My mind, the dreams I have at night, I believe my mother’s gift is awakening in me, Sen.”

Sen tilted his head at that. Ragmár had always believed that his mother could see the future. She hadn’t thought so; she’d just told him of her dreams when he was a child. He’d always found them interesting, and he’d pester her until she’d tell him. One of her dreams had been about demons attacking their village. Another was about Ragmár meeting a boy with eyes the color of demons. A boy exceptionally skilled in magic. Ragmár had always thought them mere stories until both things came to pass.

“I’ve dreamt of someone, a powerful mage with skill in magic not unlike your own. I’ve seen him topple empires and amass power the world has never seen. I believe the person behind this invasion, and the other disasters taking place around the world, is the man from my dreams. Regardless, there is someone working in the shadows. I believe he’s after you. I don’t know why or if he’ll even still be around when you return. But you need to find him first. You need to deal with him. I don’t know if he can possibly pose a threat to you, but be careful, my friend.”

Sen leaned forward at that. He’d never truly believed the whole future-seeing thing. Of all the threads of magic, very few led to altering time. Even time crawl only affected a very immediate area. Beside the artifact that had made his journey possible, he tugged on the threads as much as he could, searching for more powerful time magic. If it existed, it was far out of reach. So he’d always found it…difficult to believe that Ragmár’s mother, a woman with no magic potential, had someone seen into the future in her dreams. 

“The vault remains, the one only a select few know about, and I’ve taken great care of the things you left behind in this era. You will find them there, even if the castle falls. I’ve added as much as I could personally as well. Things I think you’ll find useful. There is one other thing that has been set in motion, though I had very little hand in it. They’re calling themselves the Order of the God of Magic. Their leader asked for my blessing, and because I knew him so well, I gave it. I don’t know what will come of this. I can only hope it doesn’t turn into some kind of cult or something like that. But perhaps they will persist and help you in the new era. We shall see.”

If they still existed, Sen hadn’t heard of them. There was a cult of the God of Magic, and Sen found it slightly amusing that the order Ragmár mentioned may actually be the same organization. Then he remembered it was a cult dedicated to him, and the amusement faded. Significantly. The vault still being around was good news. He’d check when he was done here. 

Ragmár steepled his hands and began speaking again. “You were right, I think. About what makes a good king. A good king comes from among the people. And so, except for my oldest heir, I’ve sent my children away. I…had their memories wiped and replaced. They’ll live as the common man does. They’ll live as we did. In the event that the kingdom falls, I have chosen knights I trust wholeheartedly. With the help of the magicians Mori trained during his time here, we’ve changed the faces and bodies of those knights. They’ll pass as my own sons and daughters. Even if we are all put to the sword, my bloodline will continue in secret. I’ve left protection for my family in place, but I cannot guarantee they will hold over the generations, especially not for a thousand years.

When you see this message, infuse the tablet with your mana, and it will show you my living descendants. If the echo of my power embedded within their souls still persists, it will activate, and that power may prove useful to you. Much has changed in the world you live in now, but I believe in you, old friend. You pulled me from the wreckage of my home when we were children, and you will pull our dream into reality. Our dream of peace.” He laughed and threw his arms out wide. “Can you imagine? After everything we went through? The chaos of our childhoods? Can you imagine that we created a peace that lasted over a hundred years?” He smiled. His eyes shifted, and it looked as if he was staring directly into Sen’s soul. “Even if it falls today, I have hope, because I know a thousand years from now you’ll find this message, and you’ll bring about everything we dreamed of. And that peace will last so much longer than a mere hundred years.” He laughed again. “A lasting peace!” 

Ragmár looked away, as if someone had knocked on the door, then he returned his gaze to Sen. “I know there is so much more within you. I know you’ve only scratched the surface of what you’ll accomplish in this world.” Ragmár smiled. “Goodbye, Sen, my friend.” With that, Ragmár stood and walked toward the door. 

Sen wished he could stop him, and he knew Ragmár couldn’t hear him. He was talking to a memory, an illusion from a thousand years ago, but he called out anyway. “Wait, Ragmár, don’t go,” he said, staring after his old friend.

Ragmár stopped just in front of the door. “I always said I wouldn’t go before I was ready, but you know what? I think I am now. I’m at peace with it. This is my part to play.” Ragmár turned and looked over his shoulder directly at Sen. “The rest is up to you.” And then he disappeared into mist, and Sen’s reality came crawling back. He was back in the well-worn room with the rest of his friends, and he snapped out of the spell-induced stupor. 

He turned and blinked at his companions. Mori, Ilm, Samara, Fawna, Milim, and the strange man in the white cloak standing behind them all. “So, what did you see?” the stranger asked.

Mori’s head snapped, and the others jumped away with varying reactions. Samara drew her blade, Ilm prepared a spell, and Milim, in her panic, swung her staff down and smacked the man on the head. Hard.

“Ow!” The white-cloaked man pulled his hood back and rubbed the top of his head. “That hurt. What’s your strength stat, woman?” He grimaced. “Sheesh.” He had brown hair that was pulled into a ponytail and was shaved on the sides. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and was either ridiculously carefree or putting on an act. 

Sen blinked. How strong was this guy if none of the others had sensed him? “Who are you?” he asked.

“Me? I’m Dirke. So, what exactly did you see? I’ve always been curious myself,” he said. 

“Dirke?” Sen asked. His eyes trailed to the white robe that looked suspiciously like something a cultist would wear. “Why are you here? In the ruins?” he asked. 

“We always keep someone here. You know this post is kind of boring, but get this: the last guy manned it for thirty years. He finally gave up and retired yesterday. Do you know how upset he’s going to be when he finds out on my first day I met the freaking God of Magic? I can’t believe my luck, seriously!” Dirke grinned. He certainly was in a good mood. 

That set off an alarm in Sen’s mind. He exchanged a look with Mori, who seemed equally perplexed. “How did—we who? Who are you with?” Sen asked.

“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. It just…I mean, standing around with these guys, it just started to feel like we were all old friends or something! I mean, I even considered hopping in to help you guys during the fight. I didn’t. But I really considered it. You’re right, I should be a little more clear. It’s not too much of a surprise that you don’t recognize our attire. We do our best to maintain secrecy. We’re probably the most secretive of all the cults, give or take, but even if we like to keep our heads down, that doesn’t mean we aren’t as active as any of the others.” 

Samara pointed her sword at him. “A cult?” 

Despite the pointed blade, Dirke seemed more concerned about Milim, who waved her staff threateningly again. 

“Easy friends! We’re on the same side. I’m with the cult of the God of Magic. Though technically that’s not our official name. We’ve been waiting for you.” 

A moment of silence passed between them all. Sen thought back to the vision he’d just seen. Was this the order? The same one that Ragmár had approved in his time? He felt quiet amusement that they had, in fact, turned into a cult. 

Finally, Mori clapped. “Excellent! How does membership work? I’d like to join immediately.”

“Mori…” Sen said.

Dirke laughed. “I love this guy! I’m pretty sure just on account of being one of his companions you’re basically honorary members!”

Samara raised a brow. “Boss…I really don’t mind taking orders, but I’m not so sure about joining a cult.”

Milim tilted her head. “I’m fine either way, honestly.” She smiled at Sen, pleased with her joke. 

Dirke held his hands up. “Listen, just come and talk with our leader. We’ve been preparing for this day for a long time. There’s probably a lot you don’t know about, but we’re here to help. Someone suggested you come here, didn’t he? A man by the name of Orttha.” 

Sen and Milim exchanged a look. “How did you know that?” he demanded. 

Dirke smiled. “I’ll explain it all. But first, how about we start with that vault nobody’s been able to get open all these years? What do you think?” 

Sen considered him for a moment. If Orttha really was involved in this somehow, then perhaps it was worth hearing Dirke out. He was clearly strong, and if his organization was the same one Ragmár mentioned, they might have more answers for him. He nodded, and his companions settled down. They’d still be ready to beat the man down if he tried anything, but for now, Sen had offered reluctant approval. 

“I’ll think about it. But before we do anything, there’s one more thing I need to do,” Sen said. They’d go to see the vault, and afterwards he’d consider Dirke’s request. But first, there was something he needed to check.

He placed his hand on the pedestal and forced his mana through it. 

Sen saw several visions in quick succession.

The first was of a young girl, no older than five or six, with long brown hair. She played with toys as dreadbeast guards stood over her. She suddenly looked up, as if she felt someone was watching her. The girl looked around, and for a moment Sen got a better view of her face. He could see traces of Ragmár in her. Her brown eyes scanned the room for a few seconds, and then she shrugged and returned to her toys.

The vision shifted momentarily, and just as the details of a new scene unfolded, he caught the dismissive flicker of a hand wave. 

The scene shifted again just as quickly as it had formed. 

His last vision was from the person’s own perspective. The man fell to his knees in the middle of familiar streets and clutched the sides of his head. Sen’s brows quirked. This was in Bright Sail. He recognized the rooftops and some vendors selling food along the street. Several people cried out in concern for the man and hurried over to help him. Something glowed on the man’s chest, and he reached through the collar of his shirt to pull out a glowing green necklace with a thick emerald set within.

Sen recognized it in an instant and wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. The necklace was an artifact he’d gifted Ragmár once. Its sole purpose was to ensure its owner could find their way to Sen. Ragmár must have passed it down to ensure his descendants crossed paths with Sen, even if they didn’t retain awareness of their noble bloodline.

 The man inspected the emerald and saw his reflection in the gemstone. 

Sen’s eyes widened. 

It seemed the artifact had worked well, especially considering Sen had crossed paths with this particular descendant shortly after arriving in this time. 

It had sent the man a pang of hunger right on time to put him in Sen’s path. They’d met at a food vendor’s stall in the streets of Bright Sail. 

Zeke. 

Zeke was a descendant of Ragmár. 

[Secret Quest Complete.]

[Now Preparing Secret Quest Reward. Please proceed to the vault for Class Modification.]