Chapter 95: On the Way (II)

  When I showed the dockworkers my Writ of Passage, some eyebrows were raised. I doubted they could tell who the pass originally belonged to, and believed they were mainly surprised by the fact something like that even existed, but still, I was aware that I might've just exposed my location.

  Wesley led us toward the cargo airship bound for the Foundry—the BrassVulture Mark II, a massive beast of brass, iron, and titanium capable of hauling thousand tons of cargo in every run.

  I considered activating Checkpoint but eventually decided against it.

  With a thirty-minute window for the anchor, what good would it bring to use it now? The BrassVulture was a much slower ship compared to its BrassEagle and BrassHawk counterparts—the flight to the Foundry should take at least two hours. And depending on where exactly the airship was set to land, maybe even more than that.

  I’ll need to save it for later.

  “Are you joining him, Captain Duran?” a female dockworker in charge of overseeing the cargo loading operations called out, sounding confused.

  Wesley nodded casually, a grin on his lips. “Don’t worry. My replacement is already on the way.”

  The dockworker frowned. “But shouldn’t you wait until they – “

  “This ship is departing now, isn’t it?” Wesley interrupted, pointing at the BrassVulture.

  “Yes,” she replied, nodding, but still confused. “But that’s not – “

  “And waiting for my replacement will cause us to miss it and wait another hour for the next one, correct?” he cut in again.

  “Well…yes, but – “

  “I’ll make it easier for you, miss,” Wesley said, interrupting her one final time. He tapped the Immigration Inspection badge affixed to his chest. “I hereby deny travel authorization to any individual—up to, and including, the Primarch himself—from this station.”

  The two men at the line were quick to voice their displeasure. “Hey! What the fuck?!”

  Wesley just shrugged, his grin unbroken. “Sorry, fellas. Guess you’ll have to wait a bit longer—just until my replacement arrives and revokes my order.”

  With that, he turned and headed toward the BrassVulture’s main access doors, motioning for me to follow.

  ***

  Inside, the air was dry and hot, carrying the scent of oil, metal, and the thick, starchy smell that couldn’t be anything else but…potatoes—the main supply the cargo crates around us contained. They were Orlinth's leftovers basically—just like how before that, they were Skyhaven's leftovers for us.

  There weren't any seats for passengers—obviously, the ship was designed for cargo—so once the BrassVulture lifted off, we settled into a quieter corner between the towering stacks of crates.

  Other Orlinthers were traveling down as well—mostly failed inventors and artisans who had taken whatever work they could to keep their families alive. For most of them, that meant the mines of the Foundry. Many of them would eventually relocate there permanently and send what money they could back to Orlinth.

  Despite the risks of living down there, it was cheaper to survive that way.

  As the airship rumbled through ascent, my eyes remained on Wesley while I considered my approach.

  The plan was simple: seed just enough doubt to fracture his faith in Valdemar.

  I wasn’t na?ve enough to think I could break it entirely. He’d followed Valdemar for far too long for that. And even if it were possible, a single day inside a time loop wouldn’t be enough unless he was the other looper—which I knew he wasn’t.

  Either way, I just needed a crack. Then, I could blast him with questions he would be more likely to answer truthfully. And after that, he might actually take me to Novus.

  “The uniform’s real,” Wesley said casually as he caught my gaze, still with the same grin from the dock.

  “Hm?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I figured that’s why you were staring,” he went on. “Wondering whether it’s authentic.”

  “Oh, no. I already guessed it was,” I said. “I always assumed Libra had agents in Ironwatch.” I paused. “What I’m curious about is who Riven Duran actually is. And whether he knows his identity is being worn by someone else.”

  Wesley chuckled. “I am Riven Duran. And please address me as such going forward.”

  I shrugged. “Sure. But who is he really?”

  “He’s of no interest to you.”

  “And still?” I pressed.

  He shook his head in mock disappointment. “That’s honestly the least interesting part of our operation. You’re really that curious about him?”

  “I am.”

  Riven sighed, indulging me. “He’s a recluse. Never leaves his house. We paid him enough to make sure it stays that way.” He tilted his head. “The rest, I’m sure you can piece together.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  It aligned with what I already suspected.

  But how had Libra recalibrated Riven Duran’s COG so Wesley Slater could use it seamlessly? That was the real mystery.

  The problem was that fake-Riven here wouldn’t know the technical details. This clearly wasn’t his role in the organization.

  And so, this was a dead end.

  I glanced at him again. He looked far too calm and in control. I needed to rattle him, and I had just the perfect way—something I’d seen in his and Vorrick’s Vestige.

  “How’s your old man?” I asked lightly, meeting his eyes right as I finished the sentence.

  Riven’s grin vanished instantly. His eyes widened for a split second.

  Then they narrowed, locking onto me with an edge that bordered on anger. Whatever ease he’s been projecting disappeared entirely.

  Perfect.

  “What is it with you and asking the most useless questions imaginable?” he asked flatly.

  “Useless?” I echoed, feigning mild surprise. I gestured toward the nearest window—a small square of reinforced glass no larger than a book. Orlinth was still visible through it, sprawling beneath us and stretching toward the horizon.

  “We’ve got a long way to go before we reach the Foundry, don’t we? I figure I’ll have plenty of time to ask all my questions.” I shrugged. “And it’s not like you’ll kick me out of the airship mid-flight, right?”

  Riven’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I should.”

  “Maybe,” I countered calmly. “And then, maybe, you’ll anger Valdemar quite a lot.”

  “I already told you – “

  “That he doesn’t care about me or what I’ll choose to do?” I cut in. “Yeah. And I already told you: bullshit. I don’t buy that for a second.” I shook my head, rubbing my forehead. “I don’t have the memories to piece it all together at the moment. But the lie itself? It’s pretty obvious.”

  “You sound awfully confident for an amnesiac,” Riven said, his grin slowly returning.

  Before I could answer, I caught on to what he was trying to do.

  He was trying to deflect my approach by rattling me instead.

  The guy’s good.

  But not that good.

  “What’s Overlord?” I asked out of nowhere, trying to throw him off again.

  I didn’t expect him to answer truthfully. Honestly, I preferred it if he didn’t answer at all. After all, until I cracked his faith in Valdemar, anything he told me would be crafted lies, propaganda, or some engineered mix of both.

  Riven smiled, responding exactly how I predicted.

  “Now that’s an interesting question,” he said lightly. “One we’re far too early in our journey for me to answer.”

  “Meaning there’s a point in this journey where you would answer that?” I asked, my tone biting.

  “Why, of course,” Riven replied smoothly. “But only once we’re deeper into the Foundry itself. And if you don’t decide to ditch me along the way. Which, as I’ve said, is entirely within your rights—Valdemar won’t care.”

  I chuckled, experimenting with a different approach.

  “What about you? Would you care if I ditched you?” I asked. “You keep framing everything around Valdemar’s big plan. But it only makes you come across as the biggest tool in the shed called Libra. No individuality whatsoever.”

  He laughed genuinely—no fragile ego I could abuse. Noted.

  “I would be disappointed if you ditched me, Viktor,” he said at last. “But my disappointment is worth nothing in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, I trust V completely. He planned for this day his entire life. And he’s never been wrong so far. Why would I doubt?”

  “Riiight…” I muttered, almost rolling my eyes at yet another attempt to glorify Valdemar as I turned away.

  Then, sharply, I turned back to him—after this short reroute, it was time to get back to where I started.

  “So? Did he die?” I asked, clearing my throat. “Your old man.”

  Riven stiffened. His grin once again vanished instantly, replaced by the same irritated expression as before, but more contained this time.

  Before he could wiggle away, I pressed on.

  “He did, didn’t he?” I remained calm.

  The fact he didn't kill me yet was enough proof that Valdemar was lying—he needed me for reasons I could not understand yet.

  Riven smiled thinly, still annoyed. He sighed, then looked away.

  “He did,” he said eventually. “What of it?”

  “How did he die?”

  He turned back to me sharply, confusion flickering across his face beneath the anger. “Whatever angle you think you’re playing here, you’re wasting your time.”

  But I wasn’t backing down. I trusted the conclusions I’d drawn from everything my past selves gathered so far.

  “Was he the reason you stood so firmly against Casten Vorrick?” I asked. “The average Skyhavener wouldn’t really care where his crystals came from…”

  “You little motherfucker…” Riven muttered, then let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Fine. You want to talk about my dad? Let’s talk about my dad.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “He was the grandson of an ex-Foundry resident,” Riven began. “A remarkable woman who ascended to Orlinth back when it was still achievable—before the oligarchs raised the bar so high it became a joke.” His expression softened. “And then she did it again.” He smiled, warmly this time, with a sense of pride. “Fifteen years later, she ascended to Skyhaven together with my great-grandfather. An Orlinther, in case you were wondering.”

  “Two ascensions?” I muttered, genuinely impressed—so much so that part of me wondered if he was lying.

  Riven nodded. “Yup. Not many in the history of Solvane had managed that. Most of the time it takes four to six generations. But granny Matilda was special...”

  He spread his arms slightly, growing more animated, drawing a few curious glances from nearby passengers.

  “On paper, my family is a shining example of how working hard in Solvane eventually pays off,” he continued. “And maybe that’s true. But my family hadn’t just taught me to work hard. They taught me to respect and care for people. All people.” He looked straight at me. “I don’t look down on you or anyone in the Foundry just because you didn’t make it up there like my great-grandma did.” He shook his head. “No. We’re all equal. That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

  I nodded slowly. He seemed genuine.

  That was…a lot more than I’d expected to get from him.

  Good. I can work with this.

  “That’s why you need to join us,” Riven said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Erebus will pass, but you need to be on the right side of history after that.”

  Not happening, friend. But you seem like a decent guy, so you’re more than welcome to join me once I figure out the best way to save everyone.

  For now, I needed more information, so I continued playing along.

  I took a slow breath and lowered my voice to match his. “Are the oligarchs using Overlord to turn Foundry residents into mana crystals?”

  Riven’s eyes stayed locked on mine.

  “No,” he said. “Not yet, at least.”

  “Not yet?”

  He smiled faintly. “That’s an interesting question, Viktor. And I believe you already know what I have to say about interesting questions, right?”

  I saw the rest coming from a mile away.

  “We’re far too early in our journey for me to answer this,” he finished with the same infuriating grin as before.

  “You’re annoying,” I said flatly.

  “Not as much as you,” he shot back. “You don’t see me bringing up your dead mother, do you?”

  I stiffened.

  “Yeah,” he continued, nodding as he noticed my reaction. “Just something to keep in mind.”

  Before I could say anything, he pushed a green crystal into my hand. “Take it. You’ll need it soon.”

  I shook my head, confused, as I took the Aero from him. “What? Why?”

  “You’ll understand soon enough,” he said simply, remaining cryptic.

  He walked over to the cargo stack nearest to him, lowered himself to the floor, leaned back against it, and closed his eyes.

  “Wait,” I called out. After all the ground I’d gained, I couldn’t just let him disengage into a nap like that. “I have more questions.”

  “We’re done for now,” he replied, eyes still shut. His tone wasn’t hostile, but it left no room for argument either.

  Outside the window, the edge of the platform was still so, so far away.

  I looked at the green crystal in my hand, wondering what he meant.

  I had a feeling I wouldn't like the answer.