jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-653

After Anneliese declared her intent, she began the rigorous process of transforming Traugott. Ghislain concealed her utterly with his illusions, and the other casters all guarded her diligently as she worked. Nothing escaped—least of all Traugott, or the screams he made as she endeavored to erase him.

Though he pleaded, begged, and cried out in pain that was atypical of the Shadowlands, Anneliese showed him precisely the same level of mercy he had to those he’d experimented on: none at all. Rather, she demonstrated to him what it was to receive the attentions of one who only cared about the acquisition of knowledge regardless of the toll it took on the other person. She treated him as one might treat an object, a tool; a disposable one, at that, easily broken and replaced.

She was methodical, deliberate. Traugott had pointed out that she might make some mistakes, and she took his undoubtedly good-natured warning seriously. She avoided his brain, his soul, and the magical circuitry containing his A-rank ascension. Nothing else was spared her experimentation as he was turned inside and out repeatedly in the pursuit of answers. She unmade and remade his body parts repeatedly, using the severed scraps of his form lying about.

Anneliese asked questions of Traugott as she worked. He, unlike someone like Dimocles, was not devoid of emotions and tells—she could tell whether he was lying with her tried-and-true empathic abilities. Like so, he became her unwilling aide in his slow erasure. Even the heroes of old regarded Anneliese with some quiet unease as she worked.

Yet her theory soon became reality, and she felt a sense of triumph as she reverse-engineered what Traugott had concocted to create this form for himself. It could be said that his was a crude method, employing Sophia’s instinctive brilliance with slight tweaks to accommodate himself, his memories, and his powers. She found those changes, toying with them to see what was what. Once she understood it, sheerasedparts of them, bit by bit.

With her grand piece completed, and Traugott a subdued and blabbering wreck, Anneliese began the final metamorphosis. Traugott began to rage as she touched Sophia’s power within the core of his new, false body. He whimpered and cried like a dog caught in a bear trap. All that she could see in that pathetic display was the same misery he himself had inflicted on countless others. She had overspent her pity after seeing the tragedy he’d wrought—there was none left for him.

Traugott, former Magister of the Gray Owl, renegade S-rank spellcaster, died so that another could live. Anneliese was sure that any other would be a better use of the body than he possessed.

Traugott’s body shifted, cracked, and reset itself into the form of the Good King Norman, just as it had been before. But when the struggling ceased—the relentless attempts at liberation, the pleading cries… she could tell that something new laid before her. Something living, born from something dead.

Frightened red eyes peered up at Anneliese, totally silent as half a dozen blades of blood poked against his flesh. For the very first time, she saw some small resemblance between Sophia and Norman in their features. There was new life—and already, she felt it better than what came before.

Anneliese rose to her feet, looking at the new creation. “Can you understand me?” she said, expecting he could—she’d used that actor from the troupe as the baseline for this form.

The new man slowly nodded.

“Do you know who you are?”

The man opened his mouth, and in the same muted tone that the Shadowlands enforced, answered, “No.”

Anneliese could see no lies in those features. More than that, she could see magic pulsing through him, steadily as a heartbeat. A new being had been made. Something with all of Traugott’s power, but none of his character. The Shadowlanders had given him a name. She thought it fitting to make that name a reality.

“You’re known as the Manumitter,” Anneliese explained, then gestured at Bhaltair. The obese spellcaster commanded his undead to pull back their weapons, and the newly-created life sat up, looking around cautiously. “You’re called that because you embody a hope of a trapped people. Whether they’re worthy of realizing their hope, or whether you’re willing to give it to them… you’ll help decide that, now. I desperately hope you make better choices than the one that came before.”

The Manumitter looked up at her uneasily. “I don’t understand.”

“We have little time,” she continued. “Others beside myself can better explain it. I must be unfair to you, because I have to—but when all is said and done, I will give you the freedom to choose. For now… sleep.” She gestured at Emperor Balzat.

He used the only S-rank imperial spell, [Subjugate]. It employed its spirits to invade the Manumitter’s mind, and without the know-how to resist shamanic magic, he fell unconscious immediately.

“That was quite terrifying of you,” Felipe I commented. “You remind me of Vasquer, in many ways. Understanding, gentle… yet also capable of torturing something for hours if you think it’s necessary.”

Anneliese stared at the shell. “He deserved worse. Would that I had more time.” She shook her head, finding herself somewhat uneased by what Traugott had brought out in her. “What you saw of me, here, was what that man was at all times. Everything was just another tool, in his eyes. I imparted unto him only the standard he set with his own actions. The world is better with him erased.”

“Is he erased?” Emperor Balzat questioned, kneeling down to examine the body. “Is there no chance he can regain what he lost?”

“Well…” Anneliese closed her eyes. “Not on his own.”

In reconstructing his body, she had come to understand how to rebuild it again, returning the character of Traugott back to the shell. She was the only one with that knowledge, and she was quite confident even Raven couldn’t emulate it. Perhaps it might’ve been safest for her to ignore that knowledge. Yet Traugott knew things. He had learned countless secrets. With this, at least, she preserved the option to interrogate him, if necessary.

For better or for worse, she kept that knowledge.

“We’ve dawdled enough,” Anneliese said loudly, looking around at everyone. “Bhaltair—take the Manumitter. We’re going to support Argrave. Devise a foolproof method to display him as a hostage without risking him being recaptured.”

“And what of the Shadowlander?” asked Ghislain.

Anneliese looked at the rider, who laid there suitably subdued after both his fight with Traugott and his freedom from the hierarchy. Bhaltair prudently still had guards positioned with blades raised to pierce him, lest he sabotage their efforts at the last minute.

“Take him, too. Subdue him the same way,” Anneliese commanded. “I think it’d be best to have a somewhat impartial witness testify, too. He’ll suffice.”

“The Hopeful will likely know that the escort he sent with us had been freed of the hierarchy,” Felipe I pointed out. “He could be coming, even now.”

“Then let’s waste no more time. We reunite with Argrave. Displaying Traugott should, I think, stop the fighting. Even if only temporarily.”

“And beyond that?” Someone asked—she couldn’t see who.

“We could escape immediately if I instruct the Manumitter on how to use his power. But I want to consult with Argrave.” She rolled her shoulders, psyching herself up for one final push. “The Shadowlands still remain a threat to our realm. We might change that, somehow.”

Anneliese was beyond exhausted. But after this fight, she finally began to see some light in this dark realm. A hope of freedom.