Chapter 14: The Causal Obligation

It was quiet for several weeks before anything went wrong.

The search for Trav had come to a screeching halt. Though he had baited them into that underground cavern for some unknown reason, he had vanished entirely afterwards. Neither Tilda nor Daginald could turn up any information on him, and so they had opted for the much more dangerous task of trying to locate the rest of the missing Arcanum Crystals. They were being careful, so the investigation was slow going.

Or so Ballan had been told.

Tilda complained often and loudly about how little progress she was making. Bereft of any skullduggery experience and with no contacts to speak of, Ballan's time was better spent improving his spellcraft. Luckily, Tilda seemed to agree, and was happy to leave him to it.

Holgith and Krakkus had become fast friends, bonding over their shared ideals of strength and honor. Holgith was fascinated by Krakkus' account of his homeland, and Ballan even found himself listening in when he had the time. It was strange to think about anyone being able to live outside the Wards. The Wilds were volatile and dangerous, filled with ravenous magical creatures and unchecked eldritch phenomena. From what Krakkus described, there was some sort of tutelary king amongst his people who was able to exert some measure of control over the Wilds.

A fascinatingly powerful spellcaster, then. Krakkus spoke of him almost like a deity, and Ballan supposed a sufficiently powerful spellcaster could probably masquerade as a God of some kind - for a time. Not even the most powerful wizards could reverse the process of aging. And Pythogoras proved that anything of sufficient power - or even just size - could be mistaken as a God.

Avonia and Zagaroth seemed to be different, however. They both granted power directly to their ardent clerics, and they didn't live on this plane. It was unclear where, exactly, they resided. However, their existence could not be denied. Too many miracles had been performed in their names, and with their power. Whether or not that made them Gods was a debate best left to the theologians.

Tilda often avoided the room during these conversations. Ballan was beginning to think Tilda was deeply religious. Not very surprising, he supposed. Halfling families tended to be incredibly orthodox, being some of the first peoples to benefit from Avonia's protection within the Wards. He had just assumed she was a little more blase about it, given her chosen profession. It was not as though the Avonian church looked positively on thieves and swindlers. Still, that was her business, and Ballan was loath to intrude.

Kahya spent the days away from the tower, exploring the city. Holgith usually accompanied her, as it was well-reasoned they should not be out and about alone, given their myriad shadowy enemies. Kills-the-Joke was loose in the city somewhere, and they still did not have a firm understanding of who had sent the Hound of Zagaroth after Ballan, or why. Not to mention they had no idea what the Traveller's real intentions were. So, Boots had decreed they would use a 'buddy system'.

For his part, Boots spent his time sleeping, teaching Ballan, or pretending to study when he was actually still just sleeping. He assumed the thunderous snoring coming from the highest room in the tower indicated sleep, anyway. Ballan had still never set foot in Boots' sanctum on the top floor. He had asked about it, of course, but Boots had simply told him that it was his 'den' and there was not very much of interest inside anyway.

Ballan doubted this assertion, as at the very least, that was where he was storing the Arcanum Crystals they had already retrieved. Ballan wondered how, exactly, they were stored. Especially now, after they had been stolen. He certainly hoped there were better security measures in place.

One afternoon, about two weeks after they had discovered the underground chamber, Ballan found himself reviewing his spellbook and reminiscing. That chance encounter with Boots on the road... Well, perhaps not so chance. They had scarcely talked about that encounter since leaving Pythogoras' temple. As he was musing on Boots' claims - that he had met some future version of himself, who claimed to have invented time travel - the bear himself trundled down the stairs, yawning.

Ballan closed his spellbook and sat up.

"Good morning," Ballan called politely, and Boots gave him a bleary, toothy smile.

"I do believe it is three in the afternoon, but your sentiment is appreciated regardless," Boots told him as a tea set jauntily floated down from the kitchen above and began arranging itself on the large, round table. "I seem to have overslept... again!" Boots let out a mighty yawn as he spoke, before smacking his lips together and pouring half a pot of honey into his tea. He sat cross-legged on the ground next to the table with a harrumph. "Ever since I stopped hibernating I can never get enough sleep." He gulped down his tea ravenously.

"So, when are we going to talk about time travel?" Ballan asked as Boots was mid-draught. The Bear sputtered and coughed, his eyes bulging temporarily out of his head as he choked on the tea. To his credit, he spilled almost none of it.

"Let a bear finish his tea before you accost him with questions about..." He thumped his chest with his enormous paw, coughing one last time. "...Theoretical magical practices!" He shook his head, "Now, what's this about time travel?"

"Well, we're supposed to discover it," Ballan reminded him. "What was it that you called it? A 'causal obligation'?"

"Ah, yes..." Boots chuckled, suddenly bashful. "Well, to be perfectly honest with you - I still haven't the faintest idea how to go about it!" With a wave of his hand, several books flew off the shelves of the study, piling up around Boots as he spoke. "However, now that we are here in my tower, we can at least try and understand the enormity of the undertaking before us..." He clapped his gigantic paws together, several of the tomes flipped open, and a magical diagram appeared above the table.

It depicted, simply, a luminous, golden, straight line on a field of purple. Boots pointed at the line, and a small bead of light began moving from the left to the right, very slowly.

"So, here we have the present!" Boots indicated the small bead as it moved down the line. "And of course, the past and the future..." Boots pointed at each side of the bead. As the bead moved to the right, the line to the left became silver and solid. "The past, of course, cannot be changed by the present. And the future, as we know, is entirely unknown..." As Boots spoke, countless golden lines began branching off from the central line. As the bead moved to the right, these lines condensed onto a single point... before eventually leaving behind the silver, stable past.

"Divination magic can provide glimpses of the future, though," Ballan pointed out.

"Divination magic can provide glimpses of a future," Boots corrected, waving his paw over the diagram. The bead stopped where it was, and one of the threads leading into the future began to glow - but the others did not. "Divination magic taps into possibilities. And in truth, the act of divining the future itself can cause it to change." Boots laughed ruefully. "In fact, it can take many years to properly decipher any given prophecy... by which point, it has often already come true!"

"Fundamentally, though, if we are able to see any portion of the future... wouldn't we also be able to go there?" Ballan asked, gesturing to the presentation. He pointed at the glowing 'possible' future line that Boots had highlighted. "If information can be transferred, then there must be some way to transfer matter."

"A solid theory, my apprentice!" Boots shook his head, however. "But you are misunderstanding the nature of this informational transfer. Whether you are viewing a possible future, or the only past, the information flows only one way - to the present!" Boots waved his hand again, and the bead continued its journey down the golden line, condensing a multitude of futures into the past. This time, there was a distinct flow of energy from both sides of the line, which Ballan could now see seemed to be... empowering the bead.

"That's what the present is. Where the past and future meet and..."

"Decide what they're going to be, yes!" Boots shrugged. "Or perhaps, agree to be what they always would have been. This is sort of the... inherent problem with traveling through time. Once you've done it, your past becomes the future..." Boots poked the diagram one more time, and the solid, silver line of the past splintered and fractured - just like the future. Rapidly, the threads began fraying, and eventually, the line and bead itself unraveled entirely. "And the irreconcilable paradox destroys reality!"

Ballan stared agape at the now featureless, purple void. Boots simply laughed.

"That's just one theory, anyway!" Boots clapped his hands together, and the timeline reappeared. "You see, we've really had no way of knowing what would happen to reality if someone actually succeeded in time traveling. However, if the person claiming to be your future self can be believed..."

"Then we know, at least, that everything doesn't fall apart at the seams," Ballan concluded with some relief. Although he could not imagine the sort of recklessness that would inspire him to try something like this in the first place.

"Just so. Look here..." Boots pointed at the timeline again. The present was glowing, and the past was still fixed, but now one of the possible futures began to... bend backwards. It looped back around the bead of the present, and entered from the past. When it did so, it became silver and solid... and the present began following the loop. After the bead passed the loop once, it simply continued on its way. "Perhaps, when past becomes future, or vice versa, time simply folds back on itself - a natural correction to the unnatural deviation caused by magic." Boots slid one of the tomes across the table. Nature's Response to the Unnatural by Plod Dourkin. "It is well understood that the natural world reacts to the use of magic. While these reactions can seem violent, they are, in essence, simply a causal effect. We can use magic to create fire from nothing, for instance, but the heat still has to come from somewhere."

"So, your theory is that if someone was able to travel through time, reality would just... fix itself," Ballan asked.

"Well, in essence, yes. Although as you can see..." Boots pointed at the loop. "It is still irrevocably changed. If the spell were overused, for instance..." Boots began tracing his finger down the line, creating loop after loop. Occasionally, he would add loops onto other loops, and though the beads dutifully followed the winding timeline, eventually the diagram was so crowded with loops and lines that Ballan could no longer tell what was going on.

His head was beginning to hurt.

"Why would I do something so... complex and stupid?" Ballan groaned, putting his head in his hands. "This isn't some insane prank, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Boots told him sympathetically, dispelling the illusion. "My verification efforts have been extensive. Either this individual I spoke with was you from the future, or they are the most powerful Wizard that has ever walked the earth."

Ballan took a deep breath.

"...And why would he pretend to be me, if that were the case." Ballan ran his hands through his hair, and sighed. "Alright, well. So we have a theory that we believe is possible. How do we go from theory to practice?"

"That is the tricky part!" Boots shoved several more tomes at Ballan. "You'll want to familiarize yourself with these." He briefly glanced at the titles - studies on the Astral Sea and divination magic. "Divination magic is some of the most taxing magic in existence. It takes a great deal of mana, and often inadvertently draws upon the user's soul." Boots folded his hands over his stomach thoughtfully. "It would probably require more mana to cast a spell that sends someone backwards or forwards through time than... has ever been used to cast any other spell before!"

Ballan blinked. He had not even considered that particular aspect of the cost.

"...Where would one get enough mana to cast a spell like that?" Ballan asked, and Boots gave him a broad smile.

"Well, I would imagine if one were to be in possession of all the Arcanum Crystals... that may suffice."

Ballan stood up out of his chair, and began pacing. Normally people only had to deal with their past selves ruining their lives. How lucky for Ballan he had a future self to do that as well!

"Boots, that's a crime. It's not just a crime - if I use the crystals in the future for this spell..."

"I'd imagine you won't be popular, no..." Boots scratched his chin. "But, well, it's not as though you've done anything wrong." He thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Yet!"

"Why would I do any of this?" Ballan complained. "I don't... It's because of this, isn't it?" Ballan held out his medallion, and Boots frowned. He had felt it growing heavier around his neck, although he was not sure whether it was all in his head. "I just wanted a quiet life! Why would I..."

A small cup of tea floated over and bumped into him. He looked over at Boots, who mimed a sipping motion. Ballan sighed, and took the cup. There was too much honey in the tea, as usual, but he drank it anyway.

"Whatever the reasoning of your future self, I'm sure you will know it soon enough," Boots explained. "But consider, my apprentice, that you may have good reasons for what you do in the future. You may even have the blessing of the Council to use the crystals in that way! Have faith in yourself."

Ballan finished the tea, and placed the cup on the table. As usual, Boots was right.

"Thanks, Boots," Ballan said. Boots tipped his wide-brimmed hat.

"Of course. Now!" He clapped his paws together at the same time Ballan heard the door downstairs fly open. "We have visitors!"

Kahya and Holgith flew up the stairs. From the look on Holgith's face, it was clear he did not know why they were running. Luckily, he seemed to be matching Kahya's urgency regardless. She looked around the room with a frown, but strode towards Ballan regardless.

"We have a problem," she told him, and then noticed the tea set on the table. "If I may...?" Boots had already begun magicking a cup towards her before she was able to ask. Kahya gave Boots a small bow, and drank the tea in one swift swallow. She placed a letter beside the cup as she did so. "I received this today." She pointed to the letter, and stepped away from it quickly, clearly unnerved.

"Guardsman delivered to her directly," Holgith elaborated. "Said was paid to find 'scarred orc and young Nuit woman.'" He nodded at Kahya. Ballan picked up the letter as Holgith explained, unfolding it. It was not a very long letter. It was addressed to Kahya, from someone named... 'Lucy'. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Ballan, and he suddenly remembered the sandy-haired woman from the Temple of Pythogoras. So, one of the cultists had found Kahya.

The contents of the letter were fairly benign, however. It seemed like she wanted to reconnect after herself disavowing the cult. Then why was Kahya acting so... alarmed?

"You are confused," Kahya pointed out, and Ballan looked up from the letter. "I find this suspicious for several reasons. First, Lucy is a zealot. She would never disavow the cult. Second, we were not particularly close. Third, she would have no way of knowing who Holgith is."

"Holgith very distinct," Holgith said with a shrug. "Maybe she hear of Holgith."

"I find it too convenient," Kahya stated definitively, and Holgith simply nodded.

"Well, then who wrote the letter?" Ballan asked.

"Not someone with good intentions, I think," Kahya replied. "Perhaps even the people responsible for the Hound." Ballan thought for a moment, and then looked at the letter again. She wanted Kahya to meet her in the Burroughs this evening... He suddenly had a wild, reckless idea. An idea he would have moments ago never considered.

"This looks like a trap," Ballan agreed. "But I think we should spring it." Holgith laughed, clapping his hands together as Kahya gave him a shrewd look.

"I was thinking the same thing." She gestured to the letter. "If it is true, then it is true. If not, we put a face to our enemy."

"Exactly." Ballan began gathering his things - they would need to leave quickly if they were going to make the meeting. "The Hound attacked us after we had already escaped the Temple. It had a bit of my cloak, remember? Where did it get that?" He pulled his cloak off the coat rack, gesturing to the repaired bit near the bottom before putting it on. "Somewhere in between the Temple and the road to Reubenberg. We need to know who they are, and what they want."

"My, how daring!" Boots exclaimed proudly. "I shall prepare supper for when you return."

Ballan blanched.

"You're uh... not coming?" Boots waved his paws idly, standing up and trundling towards the stairs.

"No, no! I rather dislike springing traps - terribly dangerous business after all." He gave Ballan a toothy grin. "You all enjoy yourselves, though!"

And without another word, he ascended the staircase.

"Holgith loves springing traps," Holgith said.

Ballan sighed, but took heart from Kahya's determined expression. He would strive to have the faith in himself that Boots clearly did. And, well, Holgith would be there.

They set out into the city, as the sun began trailing towards the horizon.

The Burroughs was certainly aptly named. It was warrenlike in its density, and every circuitous path seemed to snake back upon itself. Layers of walkways intersected the white and grey stone buildings, giving the impression of twigs stacked akimbo. The thousands of lanterns being lit as the sun began to set made this entire portion of the city gleam like a bonfire.

Hopefully, that would remain metaphorical.

When Ballan had lived in Avony, he had lived here. He had not returned for quite some time, and much of this place was foreign to him. But he still remembered his way around well enough. This was the side of town Tilda did not want to search manually for Trav... meaning it was most likely the place he had holed up. Finding anyone here would be almost impossible, if they did not want to be found.

Fortunately, the person they were looking for had given them an address. Ballan recognized the neighborhood, and led them carefully through the streets. Fortunately, most people were more than willing to ignore everyone else around them. The Burroughs had dozens of tightly-knit communities all layered on top of one another. 'Live and let live' was not a saying here: It was an imperative.

Lucy was apparently staying at a small flat above a restaurant. To Ballan's eyes, it seemed to be something of a premium location. Quiet, secluded, and out of the way. The perfect place to hide... or stage an ambush. The sun had not yet set, but the entire area was cast into shadow by the surrounding buildings. Kahya cased the area once, before giving them the nod to knock on Lucy's door.

The door opened, revealing the same sandy-haired Avonian woman from the Temple, all that time ago. She had a look of pinched concern on her face, followed by mild relief when she saw Kahya.

"Oh, it is good that you've come," Lucy said to Kahya as Ballan peered inside. It was a single room... really not much to see. And he didn't notice anyone else inside. "Come in, quickly."

"Holgith will wait out here," he grumbled, glancing around. Lucy frowned, but Kahya nodded and walked inside. Ballan followed suit. The room was tiny, but there was a balcony, at least. The doors to it were currently closed, but Lucy walked over and cracked them open after letting them inside.

"I was surprised to hear from you," Kahya said neutrally. "What caused you to leave the Temple?"

"Pythogoras is dead," Lucy said simply. Ballan folded his arms, and Kahya gasped.

"What? How?" Kahya demanded, and Lucy just shook her head sadly.

"The servants of Zagaroth came to the Temple. They had with them some... thing." She took a shuddering breath. "A monstrosity. We were powerless before them. It was all I could do to flee for my life..."

Ballan pursed his lips. Not that the Cult of Pythogoras necessarily deserved any sympathy, but he had seen firsthand what Zagaroth's followers did to their victims. He had been watching Kahya's reaction to the information, but she was difficult to read. Her face was stony, and she was silent. He had not seen her so furious and tense since they had first escaped the Temple.

When Lucy had... Ballan's mind was suddenly cast back to that day, when he had borne silent witness to Kahya's altercation with her former comrades. After the others had left, she approached the idol. When his invisibility spell fell, she had... recognized him.

"How did you know me?" Ballan asked, cutting through the tension in the air. Lucy turned to face him, distraught and confused.

"What do you...?" she began, but Ballan cut her off.

"I surprised you at the Temple," Ballan explained, pointing at himself. "You said 'He came back for it, as foretold.' But when I appeared, you seemed surprised to see me. Me. Specifically."

"I... Kahya, who is this person?" Lucy asked, clearly feigning uncertainty. Ballan was sure she was lying, he remembered the day clearly, now.

"Answer his question," Kahya demanded. Lucy looked aghast, stepping backwards.

"I don't know what you're..." As she stepped back, there was a rush of cold air as the balcony door was flung open. Ballan heard the click of the hammer before he had a chance to turn around. He felt the heat of the bullet singeing his shoulder before he heard the sound of it leaving the chamber.

Blood blossomed from the center of Lucy's chest as she looked down at herself, aghast. Ballan whirled around in a panic, even as he heard Holgith breaking down the door.

Silhouetted against the cityscape lights was Kills-the-Joke, his patched eye burning with baleful green flame as he watched Lucy slump to the floor.