Chapter 6: Talentless - Chapter 6

“Follow me,” their captain said, already heading towards the exit.

Rayden tried to keep his composure as Boh and Jim traded a pair of puckish smiles. He could only imagine the snide remarks they were preparing.

Quill, on the other hand, immediately marched forward like a good soldier—and then so did he. He gave the two mischievous men an apologetic look as he passed by. He was normally an advocate for insurrectionists, but one woman scared him, and the other made his heart flutter.

Besides, Ivy was right. Dungeons always had a final trial, and it was usually the most dangerous section. The spriggan was a good reminder that they weren't invincible.

Carefully, they made their way forward, winding through a series of ransacked and eerily deserted rooms. One of the cubbies had a large stack of gold coins, which would have been tempting to pilfer if they could be brought outside. Sadly, they would just disappear the moment they left the dungeon.

Rayden was just allowing himself to daydream about what his Talent could be when Quill slowed down her pace and pulled up beside him.

“Where did you grow up, Rayden?”

He gave her a look, knowing that she wouldn’t answer the same question in turn, but she just smiled in response.

“I was born in Arvus, but I’ve been traveling the Rim since my fourteenth birthday.”

“You left that young?”

“I really didn’t have a choice,” he shrugged.

“Oh, I’m sorry”.

She bit her lip, and he could practically see the question forming.

“Forgive my ignorance, but where exactly is Arvus?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he slowly shook his head.

“It’s near the center east border, but…I don’t know if it even still exists. There was an accident, and it’s a bit of a sore subject…”

Quill waited patiently as he trailed off, sensitive to his mood. Her quiet regard—and perhaps his massive crush on her—made him more trusting than usual, but he wasn’t quite ready to go that deep into his past.

“I’m sorry if I’m being rude,” he said, trying to sound sincere. “But can we save this conversation for after the dungeon?”

She nodded, then the corner of her lips curled up into a sly smile. It was almost predatory. He suddenly got the feeling that he was guided to this moment on purpose.

“Perhaps over dinner?”

He attempted to hide his surprise, but his face must have betrayed him because she pounced on his moment of weakness.

“Unless I’ve misread the way you look at me...”

“You haven’t. Dinner sounds great,” he said shyly. “Assuming we survive this place.”

Quill smiled, then placed a hand on his elbow in a manner he found a tad possessive. Not that he minded.

“Assuming we survive this place,” she agreed. “We can dine on whatever fare Penrith dares to call dinner.”

“Sounds good, Quill. I assume we’ll be inviting Jim and Boh as well?” He joked.

“I’d sooner point my staff at my head and blast it.”

Rayden chuckled, then nearly tripped over his own feet to avoid walking into Jim’s back. He had been too busy flirting to notice that they had entered a small chamber with no visible exit. There was a small bronze pedestal in the center of the room, surrounded by a series of mosaic paintings that wrapped around the walls in a complete square.

Each of them was the same size, about two feet tall and one foot wide, perfectly set against each other and separated by gold frames.

“You take a wrong turn, Ivy?” Boh asked, scratching his head.

“No.”

“Our path has been linear so far,” Jim said cheerily. “Do you know what that means, Boh?”

The dwarf took a swill of his drink, offering only a burp in response.

Quill walked over to the bronze pedestal and began investigating, while the rest of them meandered around the room. Oddly, Ivy seemed entirely disinterested, just patiently standing in place with her arms crossed.

When their eyes met, she shrugged.

“I detest puzzles, riddles, and the like.”

“Oh,” Rayden said. “Is there a backstory there?”

“Yes, my family loves them, and I do not.”

“I see.”

He waited a moment to see if she was going to continue, but she had already looked away.

Figuring they were on their own for this room, he joined Jim and Boh in trying to make sense of the surrounding mosaics. They were made up of small glass shards that were various shades of green, gray, and red, neatly placed together with painstaking detail. The goblin against human motif was well represented, continued through depictions of the two races praying, fighting, building, and engaging in ceremonies he failed to understand.

A few things stood out to him. First, Rayden got the impression that there was an order to the events depicted, but it was difficult to decipher because the mosaics were not arranged chronologically. Second, he noticed that both goblins and humans were presented differently in different arcs of the story, sometimes as feral and animalistic creatures, and other times as intelligent and crafty beings.

He tried to imagine a world of sapient goblins and immediately thought of Boh. His ex-lover was right, scary.

Lastly, he noted that the two gods depicted were Prosper and Envy, two of the four commonly accepted deities that most of Sepith worshipped. Prosper was usually represented as a middle-aged man with dark, slicked-back hair and a charming smile. He was usually shown sitting on a throne of gold coins, with a cane resting in one hand and a gold bar in the other.

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Envy was typically depicted as a handsome elf with long blonde hair and chiseled features. His outfits differed frequently, but his weapon of choice was consistent: a large enchanted mirror he wore on his back like a greatshield.

The mosaics were true to those traditional icons, but goblins weren’t involved in Sepith’s religions, at least as far as Rayden knew. He had no idea why these paintings focused on humans and goblins fighting for the gods' attention, but it was interesting to note that one scene even showed Envy and Prosper quarrelling with each other.

“I think I should press this,” Quill called out, breaking his concentration. “If you are all ready.”

She was standing behind the bronze pedestal, looking at a handprint-shaped indent carved into its back.

“I haven’t found anything else, but this looks obvious enough.”

“What do you think it does?” Rayden asked.

“Dunno, but unless you all have gleaned something else, it seems like the first step.”

Rayden shook his head, then turned to Boh and Jim.

“Nope.”

“Goblins, gods, and humans, oh my!”

“Alright then,” Quill said. “Prepare yourselves.”

Everyone tensed, keeping a tight hand on their weapons and glancing around the room for a potential trap. There was nothing obvious, but a spriggan busting through a wall hadn’t been predictable earlier.

Quill pressed her hand into the groove, then a pulse of mana emanated from the pedestal. It only lasted a second, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it came from something ancient and powerful.

All Attuned could feel when mana is utilized in high concentration near them, but it was difficult to process the specifics unless you were as strong or stronger than the caster. The signature of the pedestal’s output lingered in the air for a few seconds, slowly fading in a way that made his skin tingle.

A moment later, Rayden heard a chilling and androgynous voice speak directly into his head.

“WHAT ARE THE THOUGHTS OF MORTALS?”

Rayden recoiled, clutching his temples in pain. The voice had physically hurt to hear, but didn’t appear to harm him beyond the initial disturbance. From his companions' body language, he could tell they had experienced the same annoyance.

“A riddle, of course,” Ivy complained. “Stupid.”

“Never thought I’d hear a voice worse than my father’s,” Boh grumbled. “Talks just like him, too, except it hasn’t insulted me yet.”

Rayden filed that tidbit away, then exchanged a look with Quill, who seemed baffled by Ivy’s sudden reluctance.

“What’s with her?” She whispered.

“Guess she prefers things she can beat up with gauntlets,” he shrugged.

“Huh.”

His prospective date took a few steps around the room, glancing at the mosaics, then turned back to the rest of them with a question.

“You all looked at the paintings for a good while. What do you think?”

“I think they’re telling a story, I’m just not sure what the point is,” Boh shrugged. “The paintings are out of order.”

Rayden nodded, having surmised as much. He had a hunch that the struggle between the goblins and humans was more symbolic than historical, but he was still piecing together the exact meaning.

“Oh, I’ve figured it out!” Jim unexpectedly exclaimed. “The allegory is quite simple.”

All eyes turned to the hat-wearing swell, expecting more of a joke than a revelation.

“Well, firstly, these works evoke the style of the legendary artist Gaudye, but I believe that may be irrelevant,” he smiled. “As for the order, we begin with a pious goblin paradise, where the race of men was nothing more than zombie-like brutes. At some point, the sapient goblins got cocky and lost the favor of Envy.”

He cleared his throat, doing a poor job of hiding his pleasure at the surprised faces around him.

“Then, the cycle begins anew with Prosper awarding the simple humans an opportunity, a chance to become sentient by defeating the greedy goblins. Thus, the tables turn, until they too fall victim to hubris and forsake his grace. I suspect the castle we’re in now is in the throes of another reversal, with the little green runts coming back out on top.”

By the time Jim finished his interpretation and sank into a deep bow, Rayden had a newfound respect for him. It was just, if only he didn’t look so fucking smug. Taking another look at the paintings, he had little doubt Jim’s interpretation was accurate.

“Aye, nice work, Jimbo,” Boh said. “But what the hell does 'sentient mean?”

“Ah, that is a good question, one that scholars have studied for millennia,” Jim mused.

“Unfortunately, Boh, you have to have it to know.” Quill snipped.

“Well, what I do know is that if you keep making eyes at our ranger, I’m gonna bash my head in with my hammer,” said the dwarf in retort. “I hope we die in here, just so I don’t have to see your young love bloom.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed inappropriately loudly at the dwarf’s joke, while Quill and Rayden did their best to ignore both of them.

“Not to worry, Boh, our mage and strapping young rogue may abandon us, but we’ll always have each other’s backs.”

“Unfortunately,” the dwarf snorted.

Rayden shook his head, then returned to the paintings. Taking a closer look, he noticed that the mosaics of the gods were far more ornate than any other depiction, which wasn’t exactly surprising, but it felt pertinent and reinforced his earlier hunch.

Jim joined him in pacing around the circle and began to think out loud, “The one thing I haven’t uncovered is why the allegory—if it is one—is about goblins and humans, and how Prosper and Envy factor into the question specifically?"

Quill nodded, crossing her arms as she thought it through.

“Something about how the arrogance of the strong inspires the jealous to supplant them, I think. However, once the roles are reversed, the aggrieved lose their motivation, and the cycle begins anew. I don’t understand the goblin bit either, though,” she admitted with a scrunched-up frown.

Rayden believed that both of them were on the right track, but he had a suspicion that the answer to the riddle had more to do with the gods specifically. He was a deeply skeptical man, especially when it came to despots abusing their power, and that was informing what he now felt confident enough to vocalize.

“I think the goblin and human conflict doesn’t matter,” Rayden interjected. “And I think what you said is accurate, Quill, but the lesson we’re supposed to take from this is simpler.”

“Go on,” she said, watching with annoyance as Boh checked out and went to bother Ivy.

“I think this mosaic, and maybe the dungeon itself, is about putting us lowly mortals in our place,” Rayden said, the pieces coming together in his cynical mind. “What we’re being told is that our very thoughts are a privilege, bestowed upon us by the gods. They can be stripped away at any time, so our focus should be on keeping the gods happy above all else.

A long moment of silence followed his dour assertion. Ivy was the only one who didn’t seem to ponder her mortality, still staring off into space over in the corner with a grimace.

“Well, that’s depressing,” Boh said, turning around with a wave.

“Indeed,” Jim said inquisitively. “I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence, but the sea monster in the moat was akin to the gods putting us in our place, too. Furthermore, the goblins stripped a castle of men bare and made it their own, showing us that the gods can put even the lowliest creatures in our positions, and the surprise spriggan showed us that they can intervene at any time and change the rules of engagement. How controlling.”

He finished his theory with a grim expression before suddenly breaking back into his trademark grin.

“Well, I suppose all we can do is face each day with a smile!”

Quill didn’t seem to take Jim’s words to heart, focusing on Rayden with a furrowed brow instead. He wondered if she had seen exactly how deep his resentment was buried.

Eventually, she bit her lip and bobbed her head.

“Good job, Rayden. I think I’ve got it. Does anyone mind if I answer?”

The four of them shook their heads, then braced themselves for the loathsome voice. Quill pressed her hand into the divot once more, and the same question blasted into their minds.

“WHAT ARE THE THOUGHTS OF MORTALS?”

“A gift,” Quill said calmly. “A gift from the gods.”

Another pulse of mana was released from the pedestal, followed by a rumbling of unseen gears, then the wall opposite the entrance began to creak open in two parts. The moral of the story was asinine; learn your place, and a path forward might emerge.