I was spat out of the trial’s vortex directly onto the frozen crust. The blow knocked the remaining air out of me. Before I could rise, the world around me began to double and tremble like a haze over a fire. This wasn't a visual glitch. This was the work of masters.
They were sent by Selina Virs’Tal. I knew the name—a high-tier intriguer whose smile was softer than silk and whose decisions were harder than granite. She didn't tolerate white spots on her maps. The group was a match for their mistress: three illusionist-magisters, a chronicler with a mirror tablet, and a combat mage whose palms sparked with frost.
"Alive," the commander of the group touched my throat with cold fingers. "But a resource on the brink of depletion."
A potion scorched its way down my throat, and a magical rune warmed my ribs, returning rhythm to my breath. I opened my eyes. The illusionists worked flawlessly: while they revived me, they built a "mirror corridor" around us. A pack of skull-hounds prowling nearby simply passed us by, distracted by the phantom noise the masters of Arkan’Zan projected into the distance.
"The debt should be settled here and now," the commander stated once I introduced myself as "F." There was no sympathy in her eyes, only the bookkeeping of saved lives. "We pulled you out. Now you help us. We need a prisoner from the Green Monk’s village. You will lead us inside."
I listened to the hum of the new power within me. After Tyr’s Judgment and Venice’s scroll, which I still clenched in my fist, I felt the structure of reality differently—as a complex diagram that could be crossed out in the right place.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"I will lead you," my voice sounded level. "But in Hank's village, they don't use axes. It requires fine-tuning. A false trail for patrols, a substitution of acoustic tracks, a 'lost' sentry. On the outskirts, I am the leading algorithm. You are my support."
The chronicler nodded, recording the contract on the mirror surface of the tablet. We moved toward the horizon.
The road through the snowy hollow was littered with bodies. Bandits, torn apart with frightening speed—the Green Monk's work was recognizable by the cleanliness of the cuts. The Arkan’Zan mages lazily recorded the details.
I knelt by one of the bodies. A familiar hat, razor-sharp cheekbones... Something flickered inside: Belbin? No. Too similar, but not him. I pulled a crumpled sheet from the corpse's clenched fist. The seal was broken.
"Dylan, take Rorro. With his help, enter the village. Take what is needed, quickly and quietly. A public execution on the rise to the city will give us the loyalty of the doubters. Weed out the Blues. I will be at the meeting with the lieutenants. — Magellan."
I looked at the dead man's face. Now I recognized him. He was one of Dylan's men, the one whose presence I always felt as a hidden threat behind Krauser’s back. Now he was just cooling meat, and the name Magellan hung in the air like a toxic mist. The player’s shape was beginning to take form.
I quickly caught up with the group. My updated "Function" now worked in symbiosis with their magic. While one illusion painted a false trail behind us, I projected a phantom sentry to the left, diverting the patrols' attention. We walked without leaving a trace even in the air.
I felt a strange satisfaction. Arkan’Zan’s debt now marched in time with my own goals. We were approaching the village where Hank’s old sins were hidden behind every corner.
"We are here," I whispered, pointing to the first huts emerging through the blizzard. "Now—softly. No sudden flares. Here, silence is the most dangerous enemy."
The Puppeteer’s Draft.
Key Analysis:
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Arkan’Zan’s Methodology: We see how high-level illusionists operate. It’s not about flashy fireballs; it’s about "Acoustic Tracks" and "Visual Replacements." They edit the world in real-time.
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The Magellan Letter: This is the smoking gun. We now know that Rorro is being used as a key to infiltrate the Green Monk’s village. The "Reds" (Magellan) are planning a public execution to crush the "Blues" (the Reformers).
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Faurgar’s Evolution: Notice how he speaks now. "I am the leading algorithm." He’s fully embraced his role as a tool of Order, but he’s still playing his own game.
Questions for the readers:
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The Deal: Do you think Faurgar actually intends to help Arkan’Zan take a prisoner, or is he just using them as a taxi to get to his squad?
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Rorro’s Fate: Magellan wants to use the "Hero" for a public execution. Can the squad reach the village before the "Reds" make their move?
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Selina Virs’Tal: She sent a whole team just to scout. How deep do you think Arkan’Zan’s interests go in the Forbidden Lands?
?? SUPPORT THE JOURNEY & UNLOCK THE DM VAULT
Arkan’Zan Illusionist stat-blocks or the rules for Acoustic Stealth, join the inner circle on Patreon!
DM Vault for Chapter 20:
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Mechanic: The Mirror Corridor. Rules for high-level group invisibility and how "Resonance" can break the illusion.
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Item: The Chronicler’s Mirror Tablet. A unique tool for recording enemy movement and gaining a +2 to tactical planning.
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Lore: The Arkan’Zan Directorate. Who is Selina Virs’Tal, and why is she so obsessed with "White Spots" on the map?
[Link to Patreon — Master the Illusion]