Hreb of Madness

  The society of Hreb is rigidly divided into castes, each with its own small set of rights and numerous duties. The castes live only on their own tier of the city and can only interact with other tiers through the Shuttlers - the caste of porters, diplomats and translators. Yes, each caste has its own language.

  This system attracts a lot of criticism. For example, will the divided Hrebians be able to withstand a serious external threat?

  The Frugal Traveller's Guide to Faltess strongly advises against visiting this city or any other area of Separation due to the large number of rules and the severe penalties for breaking them. And that is expensive. - "Frugal Traveller's Guide to Faltess, Volume 4 by Collective of Authors"

  ^^^

  Boiriann followed the limping Slizvert into the familiar tunnel. Or rather, she shortened the distance to the Centurion and waited, gazing at the bleak surroundings while he created a new distance between them.

  The place did not please with its variety. It was a long hole in earth that the Mourneers were trying to dig up with the help of slaves in order to stage a surprise attack on Hreb. The place reeked of desperation, violence, pain and apathy. It was so much like the girl's home. Though the memories were hard, they were filled with mom and dad. And other mom and dad. When I get back to Worldedge, I'll have to ask Wolves and Merchant to stop hugging me. Just in case. It always ends badly for my huggers. I'm cursed. So said the archmagus of madmen to the Striped Man. I gave everything to First Frenzy, including luck and the right to be happy.

  In the dim light of the translucent mushrooms, the dark figures of the Mourneers appeared and disappeared. After Gloomeye 's slave rebellion, they had replaced the slavers and their mercenaries, who were now remembered only by dark stains of blood. It was also a touch of nostalgia and added some variety to the bland decor of the place.

  Despite the jokes, Boiriann liked the uniform. The veil of mourning was not only a symbol of self-sacrifice for the Order's cause, it was also intimidating. Any potential enemy should consider the confidence of a human (or whoever the Mourneers are now) who covered their vision with a rag.

  To break the monotony of walking, Boiriann said:

  "I still can't believe you worked with the slavers. Of course, I didn't set the bar of expectation very high... Somewhere around the height of my belt. And the highest point is the top of Titus. Fine, I overreacted - your bar is at my knees. Although..."

  "Ummm. We sacrifice our humanity. Do you think we won't sacrifice a bunch of strangers?" Slizvert replied, fighting with his legs and losing.

  "I didn't think anything, you could have figured it out by now. I'm using you all for personal revenge, so I guess I can't blame you," the girl said lightly, but she felt heavy inside. He might not have said directly that they didn't care about the people in the earth box. ‘We didn't know, we thought the slavers were going to spoil you with berry pies and kiss you goodnight on the foreheads.’ At least, create the illusion that they are different from the Court of Madness.

  Slizvert limped past the branch that led to the former wardens' resting cave. He paused (more to rest than to indicate the seriousness of his words), his head turned towards Boiriann:

  "If it makes you feel any better, I was against the Humanists. Ummmmm. We could dig a tunnel with our own strength, but here the field of order does not allow us to use our powers. But we could do it manually. Could. Ummm. But our leader is the Prelate."

  "How handy it is to have someone you can always blame," the girl remarked, and began to speak in gruff voices, imitating various characters: "Who rubbed mud in my face while I was sleeping?" - "It's not me, it's all the Prelate's orders", "Who buried his feet in the ground, rubbed his knees with meat and called the predatory alms?", "The Prelate, who else?", "And who tortured and killed hundreds of innocent people?"...

  Slizvert listened carefully, then turned and walked on. It was as if, when Boiriann began to speak, he thought her sets of sounds made sense. Every time he falls for the girl's hook. No wonder his reputation among his colleagues is so low.

  "Who is this guy, anyway? I’d like to get a detailed description, so I can provide people with an accurate picture of exactly who is to blame for all the sins of the world," the girl said, continuing to follow Slizvert.

  "No one has seen him. He sends orders through his people," Slizvert threw over his shoulder.

  "Are you offended, Slizni-Virzni? That I insinuated that you're all villains? I'm sorry, I thought you knew. And I hope you know that everyone hates you."

  She didn't learn if he did or not, for they had reached the exit. It had the darkest floors, which wasn't surprising: this was where the huge Orc had bled to death. Through the opening she could see a narrow mountain path and a night sky with stars and the white starswirl. Astoro's desk was still standing, but all the papers had been blown away. There was a person standing next to the table. He wore a black Mourneer robe, but he did not hide his normal face (perhaps his eyes were slightly slanted, but they were human and within the right area. This is either a lucky Mourneer or not a Mourneer at all).

  The man handed Slizvert a rope with a sharp spike with sharp blades on the edges, and what looked like a huge sling with a round metal thing with handles on each side:

  "I am exhausted with the cogs, need a perfect calculation of the thickness of the rope, the teeth and the shell."

  "Thanks. Ummm. Deltaron, right?" Slizvert took the rope device and handed it to Boiriann. She froze with these things, not knowing what to do with them.

  "Matteo, Centurion. But just call me the engineer," the engineer replied calmly.

  "What about the other project, Engineer?" The Centurion was equally unperturbed, but Boiriann knew that Slizvert was disappointed in himself. That's why we get along so well, Slizvert.

  "I need a substance I do not know. I can make a transparent version, but the transparent material is also unknown to me. But as far as I understand the idea, this material is not needed. I have to admit that this is an idea on the verge of recklessness and madness.

  "Oh, you don't know our Centurion. A day without recklessness or madness is lost to him. That is how he is, our daredemon," the girl decided to speak up.

  The engineer looked at the source of the voice and narrowed his eyes appreciatively:

  "Is she going to test the device? Excellent choice, Centurion."

  "Well, don't be so obviously happy about getting rid of me," the girl replied.

  "I'm talking about your light weight, young lady."

  "Hey! I was actually told that I have not just a good butt, but a great one!" the girl said in dramatic indignation, shaking the things handed to her.

  "Just ignore everything she says," Slizvert said pointedly. "You have to explain to her how the winch cat works. She doesn't want to fly out of a catapult at night in Nessie's black shell, even though it's almost safe."

  "Stop that joke. I won't raise my altitude any more than necessary. Rope, really? My hands are weak," she said, holding them up and waving them around as proof.

  "That's why this mechanism is here. Drop the hook at the top, fasten it, sit in the seat, pass the mechanism through the rope and start turning the handles. You need less strength and you can stop at any time, the mechanism will hold you," Matteo approached the girl and explained to her how the device worked.

  Boiriann managed to secure the hook to the protruding rock for the first time. The cliff below the city was full of places for attaching the cat and resting. And her chakram training had helped her eyesight a lot.

  As she slid her ‘great butt’ into the seat, the girl looked up at Slizvert:

  "We may not meet again, Mr. Three-Prongs-On-the-Head-Whatever-That-Means. Or I will be discovered because of your incompetence, because you decided to send an untalented stingback like me on an important mission, and I will be severely tortured, and under torture I will reveal all your secrets, and then you will all be destroyed. Or again, because of your incompetence, you will all be killed anyway...”

  "I get it!" Slizvert leaned against the wall to rest his aching leg.

  "So I must ask you: how did you get so much black cloth?"

  The Centurion paused, choosing his answer, then decided it would be quicker to answer the question:

  "One initiate can create cloth, the other can dye it. Do you know of the silkworms and the squid? They're like their chimeras. Ummm. And I thought you were serious about saying goodbye, honestly and tearfully..."

  But Boiriann was already twisting the handles and heading upwards quite quickly:

  "Ugh, that's disgusting!" she threw down (whether referring to the method of the fabric production or the sentimentality of Slizvert).

  ^^^

  Dayorb straightened its arcs behind the lunar debris. The pink and golden dawn has come. Titus stared into the distance. The day was coming into its own. Boiriann reached the largest lower tier of the city. She threw a shaking arm over the wall. The demonic device broke in the middle of her journey and she had to throw it into the abyss. I hope the engineer finds this pile of junk and fixes everything in it. All that was left was the hook on the rope. The rest of the climb had to be done by hand, with the rope wrapped around her waist and leg to allow her hands to relax and rest. The rope, of course, as befitted a rope, dug into the body in these places.

  Boiriann was coming up with a colourful description of the test that she would report to the engineer when she pulled her head over the wall and saw a group of men in metal-clad robes approaching. All thoughts flew out of her head at once, but that didn't make her feel any lighter, so she put the head down.

  Down? No, the body barely survived the ascent, it would not survive the descent. And slow, and obviously faster. Boiriann took a deep breath and looked back in the city. The group that was already close to her immediately grabbed her and pulled her towards them. Boiriann fell to the ground began to shake all over.

  The men said nothing, nor did the spy. It's not a good time for awkward pauses. Although, of course, it is better than the shout 'We've caught a spy!'

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "We caught a spy!" shouted one of the greeters. Boiriann didn't like him very much.

  "Wait a minute, Sig. Now she'll catch her breath and explain everything," another man said. "Isn't that right?" he turned to the girl who was already sprawled on the ground.

  It seems that she has already started to pick out her favourites from this group.

  They didn't attack me right away, so it can still be resolved. Now you have to act delicately and calmly. One wrong word could cost me my life.

  "THE CURSED COURT OF MADNESS! I HATE YOU! YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE! I'M GOING TO RUN AWAY ANYWAY! GRRRR, YOU STINKING ALMS!" Boirianne shouted and tried to start a fight with the boots of the madmen standing around her.

  Brilliant!

  The crowd retreated under the girl's fierce but low-powered onslaught.

  "We need to tie her up to take her to the Chancellor of Pain," Sig said.

  "I told you to wait," Sig's besieger crouched before Boiriann. "I understand you. Living under a siege is hard. But we are protected by First Frenzy, and we will definitely defeat the Weepers, and then everything will be better. Our mages will completely restore magic to this world. Where did you try to escape from?"

  “Err... Mmmm... From the palace," Boiriann admitted shamefacedly.

  "Well, let me take you there and we'll all pretend it never happened. Everyone has breakdowns," the good man said.

  "What, Commander? Do you believe her? She could say anything!" Sig persisted. He picked up the hook lying next to the spy and began to turn it over in his hands, examining it. "What is it and where did she get it?"

  "These things are made from metal by special people called smiths, and ropes are made from thread," Boiriann explained pleasantly, standing up and brushing off her clothes. She thought it was a good thing the winch was broken. It would be harder to explain its origin.

  "So you think this girl climbed up the outer wall to us? Eh, Sig?" the other man quipped.

  "Okay, I'll admit it. I'm the Weepers' spy. They sent me here as their strongest fighter to defeat Frenzy," Boiriann raised her hands dramatically and looked at Sig brazenly.

  "Look at this girl. She's still trembling. What a spy she is," the commander added to Sig's condemnation.

  Sig glanced around at the disapproving looks directed at him, but to give him his due, he did not give in to the team, but continued to bend his line:

  "The Weepers are all wildlings with broken magic. Someone can change their appearance. We must examine her," the smart guard took a step towards the girl.

  Boiriann's already relaxed insides immediately bunched together in a quick decision to shrink to a single point. A bead of cold sweat ran down her back to her little tail. Proof that she had been touched by the magerot. The girl covered her chest with her hands and screamed, trying to add more screeching to her voice:

  "Pervert! Save! Undressing! What is being done here, good people!?"

  "Really, Sig, you're exaggerating. We have the field of order, it will dispel any illusion of a wildling," the commander stood between the pervert and the girl. "Go on patrol, I'll take the girl to the palace before she's missed."

  The men parted, but Sig gave Boiriann a suspicious look. She followed the commander into city. Roughly speaking, the infiltration had been successful.

  On this tier there were only people in armour. Some of them wore hanging caps with wide brims (also hanging) and metal masks. They scurried between houses roughly hewn out of the rock. Or just rocks with lots of holes in them, reminiscent of windows and doors. Many were destroyed.

  Large metal shields mounted on poles were placed against the wall closest to the battlefield. The field of order served as a defence against wild magic, but not against simple mundane things like fire projectiles from catapults. Candle ordered an attack on the city almost every day, and this was the reason for the appearance of black wisps of smoke in it (at least from the Mourneers' perspective. From the girl's current perspective, they were massive plumes of black smoke that took up part of the sky).

  But the bridges connecting the city to the outside world have been destroyed by the madmen themselves. Need to find out how they replenish their reserves on the battlefield. Probably through underground passages. And the source of the field of order should be disabled if possible. It wasn't that Boiriann wanted to destroy the city completely... Well, no, she did. She wanted to destroy everything connected with the Court of Madness, so that no memory of it would remain.

  The girl expected about this amount of destruction from Hreb, and was pleased until the party climbed the wide and long staircase to the upper tier.

  There were colourful flickering lights, brightly coloured fabrics swaying in the breeze, and a man in an elaborate iron structure that increased his height and size, blowing flames into the air. Small men threw daggers at his feet. And there were many people here. They were humming, laughing, playing, eating, drinking and trading with each other. There was playful music. And even the fires in the distance did not interfere with the fun.

  The Commander turned and smiled at the girl:

  "It may not be perfect, but this is our home. Any troubling thoughts can be cured by a good dream, a boiled piece of meat, a spectacle shared with friends. And beyond these walls, only the wasteland and wild magic would have awaited you.

  This put Boiriann in a sour mood. She walked, preferring to look only at the broad back of her guide. Couldn't they have hung corpses and made demonic markings here, while suffering under the yoke of an incompetent tyrant? Is that too much to ask? It's a shame that madmen give someone a celebration, and someone – an earth box and torture. And the guards were kind to me, too.

  Suddenly Boiriann understood. She even stopped in her tracks at the monstrous realisation... These are ordinary people. These... people like in Worldedge and in Capital and... generally everywhere. Like me, like Slizvert, like Gloomeye. They want to live and enjoy and do different things. How terrible!

  They climbed higher and higher. With each tier, the city became more beautiful, more luxurious, and less ruined. There were already multi-storey buildings of brick and tile, and the passers-by showed more and more taste in their clothes. The battlefield shrank with every step up, and all the warriors merged into a featureless mass (except for Frenzy, which was less a warrior, more element). The pink rays of Dayorb's light played merrily on the rooftops and on the snow that was already cleared from the road. The weather was great, which was different from Boiriann's mood.

  The palace itself was a separate tier that could be seen as a whole at a glance. It had a flat roof (the last level of Hreb. Above only... No. No one is higher since the gods died). Inside the palace, the Commander found a girl in a black and white dress, who looked a little bit older than Boiriann, but it was hard to tell with her hairstyle. She wore a brown braid that fell across her face, covering her right or left eye with every movement of her head. Clever. By creating an easy problem for herself, she could ignore the hard ones. And the imperfection of the world was less noticeable. I praise you. I used to cover my face with my hair too, but it wasn't as thick and I could see everything perfectly through it. Well, almost everything.

  "Here, I brought one of yours. Tried to rappel down the dangerous wall," the Commander put an arm around Boiriann's shoulder and led her to the girl. With that hairstyle, she clearly needs help to see.

  "I was just going to-" Boiriann began her rotten excuse. This part of the plan was poorly thought out (or rather, in no way).

  "Oh, that's right! Our naughty girl. Thank you, sir. She... Did she tell you her name?" the girl with the braid started to lie for some reason. Does she really not see anything? The Court of Madness is just a name, has anyone told her that?

  "No," the sir shook his head.

  "She's Nogibrella. Exactly! Nogibrella, come, I'll punish you well," the girl gently took the newly made Nogibrella by the arm and led her away from the commander, giving him the raised corners of her lips behind the braid. "Thank you again."

  "Punishment. Yoo-hoo," Nogibrella said without much enthusiasm.

  "Don't punish her too much. We're not the enemy. And nothing bad happened," the friendly man turned and walked towards the exit.

  The girl with the braid led Nogibrella down the corridor, and after a few steps she turned to face her and looked at her with the sharp eye that peered out from behind the strange braid:

  "Run away from home?"

  "You could say that."

  "I can also say that I am seeing you for the first time. Anything can be said. There's no tax on words, and they don't put locks on mouths," the girl's tone changed. The former Boyriann liked that better.

  "That would be nice. I wouldn't have been thrown out of the house if I hadn't annoyed everyone with sarcasm," the spy knew that the closer a lie is to the truth, the better it is (in other words, a truth is the best lie).

  "Prove it. Say something snide ," the girl with the braid firmly led Nogibrella forward.

  No one had ever asked her to be snide before. Usually it was the other way round ("don't say something snide." Well, in other words). Even little tears started to form in the corners of my eyes. But... Sarcasm under duress... Her mind was blank, as if protesting against such an unnatural phenomenon.

  "Ummm," the spy hesitated, unconsciously parodying Slizvert. It was the first time that had happened to her (the hesitation, not the parody). "I'll tell you when you turn your face to me, not the back of your head."

  "Ha," the leading girl stated. "That's terrible. Maybe it wasn't your sarcasm that got you kicked out."

  Nogibrella realized that they would become lifelong friends. Or rather, they would have. Under different circumstances. If not the earth box. If not the Court of Madness, Frenzy and the Mourneers.

  "You mean it could have involved stealing all the family's money, setting fire to the house, attacking the family with a stick? No, it's not possible. Sarcasm is the root of my problems."

  "Okay, okay, I believe you, Nogibrella (the leading girl seems to have forgotten that she made up the name herself). Unfortunately, I don't have any more places for maids, except as the Lord Chancellor's personal maid. It's a terrible position, but for some reason Meg wants it.

  The girls walked through corridors with many large windows and what looked like tables, but they were also cut in half, leaning against the walls, with white busts and vases placed on them. Most of all, this palace resembled the castle of Bridge. The girl with the braid skilfully manoeuvred herself and Nogibrella to avoid the approaching people. She could see clearly.

  "So be it, I'm willing to take this position of yours if there's no other choice," the former Boiriann sighed sadly, trying not to show her spy joy.

  "I knew that right away. This is where we're going."

  They came to an ornate doorway where a girl with a large hooked nose and puffy eyes was sitting in a chair (upholstered in cloth! The richmen...).

  "Meg, this is Nogibrella, Nogibrella, this is Meg," the braided girl placed the led girl in front of this girl. "I'd say you should be friends, but I don't think so, since you're applying for the same position. Let the Lord Chancellor choose his own handmaiden."

  "No one told me about the competition!" the big-nosed girl snapped.

  "Because there wasn't one until right now," the girl with the braid replied, and started to leave.

  "Wait! What if they don't accept me?" Nogibrella asked.

  "Then find me. I'll find a place for such a lively girl. Your potential must not be lost. Oh yes, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Lucia. Lucia Revan," Lucia left.

  "You can go right after her," Meg said, giving Nogibrella a defiant look. "I need to meet the Lord."

  "Okay, I don't want to break the dialogue you have planned in your head and ask you what you want me to ask. Why do you have to meet the Lord?" Nogibrella sat down on the nearest chair (wow, better than the beds in the Mourneers' camp) and crossed her arms and legs.

  The competitor for the position of personal maid looked around conspiratorially and began to hold the invisible ball in front of her chest with her hands (fingers spread).

  "Price... limitation... intention... faith... power..." she whispered.

  Nogibrella was about to make a snide comment when a light appeared between Meg's fingers. Blue light and delight lit up her concentrated face.

  "Do you understand? I'm a sorceress! I can create light out of thought. Only, for some reason, from thoughts about water," the sorceress was so focused on her magic that she didn't notice the revelation of her own secrets or her rival's expression in the created light. And the expression was as if Meg was holding a bitten head instead of a light. Although a head would have been preferable.

  "And only in front of people who don't want to hurt me. An excellent limitation, given..." Meg paused, for the light in her hands had turned black, casting rays of darkness for a few seconds before fading. "Oh. It's not always stable, but the Lord will help me."

  "I want to show you something too," Nogibrella said, sounding more hoarse than usual. "And you'll understand why I'm going to meet the lord."

  Intrigued, the sorceress followed Nogibrella, who opened and closed the doors along the corridor, ignoring the high-ranking people (judging by their outfits and the height of their noses).

  "Excuse me... Is it necessary to open these doors so abruptly? I'm sorry, sir..." Meg mumbled an apology.

  Eventually, Nogibrella found what she was looking for - a small storage room. She went in, dragging her rival with her.

  "Now watch this wall carefully," Nogibrella ordered Meg.

  "All right. But your magic better be as strong as mine." Meg looked at the wall. There were shelves with various utensils and, for some reason, a small stuffed pre-Break animal.

  "You will be shocked, but just wait," Nogibrella went behind her rival and took a good mop. Then she walked out the door and used this tool to prop up the handle.

  The spy walked briskly back. As she approached, she saw him. He wasn't striped or horned, but his face was forever etched into Boiriann. The Lord Chancellor stood there, wearing a smart robe with the shoulder pads rolled up, a short black haircut and a thin face. The tormentor of parents. The murderer of parents. The prototype of First Frenzy. The Striped Man.

  "I should get a new maid. Is it you? Where in the Abyss are you?" no-longer-the-striped-man made a disgruntled face. "You should have nothing else to do but serve me. Your face is quite stupid. If you are a sentient being, then clean up my quarters. Especially the parchments on the table. Well? Are you going to do anything today?"

  Nogibrella realised that she was as stunned as if she had met a basilisk. Although a basilisk would be preferable (it would give her time to make a funny remark and strike a funny pose before the stonefication. It's just a basilisk, not the Striped Man), and that she was now Nogibrella, not Boiriann or Splinter. And that he didn't recognise her. He ruined my life and doesn't even remember my face?

  The girl tensed as she had never tensed in her life, and with all her physical and mental strength, she nodded.

  The chapter title is a reference to "At the Mountains of Madness". Yes, I should have translated the name of the city while keeping the mountain association. Like Mont or Montan. But the name of the city appeared in the first book, and that is how I translated it.

  If you have the slightest association with the interaction between Lord Tywin Lannister and Arya Stark from Game of Thrones, then give a mental high five - there are at least two of us.

  Of course, Boiriann's journey from the outer wall to the Lord Chancellor's maid is very quick. But this is one of the arcs of the book, it is a slightly ironic work, and I am not a professional author.

  If you think that the name Lucia Revan is presented as if it should mean something to the reader, never mind. It does mean something, but it will play a minimal role here.