Chapter 148: Time For Time Force
Emma had no idea what just happened. Thankfully, she was pretty used to that by this point, and could pretend to be calm and collected, for a short time at least.
Edith? Whatâs going on?
[Give me a moment. Thereâs a lot to unpack here.]
The rifleman was still waiting for her answer, so Emma decided to go with what worked before.
âIâm sure youâll be fine, if all youâre facing are slingshots and the occasional handgun. Iâll be heading to the Palace now.â
Her reply was a bit more abrupt than last time, but it wasnât as if the soldiers could tell the difference. In any event, Emma called Sir Bearington back out and climbed on board, ordering him onto the footpath without further hesitation. This time, she sat facing backwards, and didnât take her eyes off of the convoy as the surviving Scavenger was restrained and bundled into the back of a van. Only when they were reduced to blurs in the distance did Emma order her mount to stop.
[Light a Black Candle.
Black Candle (5/6) withdrawn.
Matchbox withdrawn.]
Emma didnât question the order; it took a bit of fumbling to light the match one handed, but less than a minute later, the world faded from view inside a bubble of darkness.
[Alright. From this point onward, mental communication ONLY. Even a single spoken word can put you in a hole that even Iâd be hard-pressed to dig you out of. Am I clear?]
Emma nodded automatically, before realising nobody could see her.
[Good. So, as youâve probably already gathered given my reaction, the situation at Blenheim Palace is FUBAR. The basement holds a teleportation gateway, not a time machine. Itâs designed to send people across vast distances in less than a second, a strict act of spatial manipulation. Except thatâs not true, because space and time canât be divided so neatly, despite the best efforts of physicists and philosophers alike.]
Iâm not sure I understand, Emma protested.
[Thatâs perfectly fine. Even a general overview of the subject matter is typically an optional module in the final year of an undergraduate degree in Physics, to put it into context. A deep dive would be strictly a postgraduate subject. All you need to know is that space and time are interlinked, to the point where when one breaks badly, there are ripple effects upon the other. For a teleportation gate to become capable of sending us backwards in time, even by a few minutes, well, itâs not looking good.
Given the circumstances, your quest needs an update.
Vae Victis quest updated!
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Objective: Assess the condition of the teleportation gateway in the catacombs beneath the Palace. [COMPLETE!]
300 EXP gained for stumbling upon a colossal shitshow.
The following have been removed.
* Objective: Reclaim control of Blenheim Palace for the Empire.
* Bonus Objective: Find and capture the saboteur.
* Bonus Objective: Restore the connection to the mainland.
The following has been added.
* Objective: Deactivate the gateway beneath Blenheim Palace before it explodes.
Rewards have been updated.
* 5000 Thrones >>> 25,000 Thrones
* Commendation (Order of the Empire) Third Class >>> First Class
* Ticket to Ride (The Ghost Train) >>> Season Ticket (The Ghost Train)
* Residence Permit (Avalon) added.
Penalty for Failure amended:
* 1000 Throne fine, Named and Shamed >>> Death]
Those are some hefty rewards, Emma thought. That penalty thoughâ¦
[Yes. Strictly speaking, a quest at this level should not be assigned to a single Practitioner, no matter how good they are at punching above their weight. The System does not assign impossible tasks, but this one is near the upper bound of what is considered achievable.
Given the extent of the changes, I can cancel this quest for you without penalty, and reassign it to a Magus who assists Paradox in maintaining the timeline. It will take longer, but heâll find this job far more familiar.]
But if the gate blows before he arrives? Emma pressed.
[Then Lough Neagh wouldnât be the biggest lake in the UK anymore. With your traits, youâd survive the blast though. Probably.]
And my family?
[Elizabeth is in Dover, so she should be far enough away. Felix is safe inside his dungeon. As for Noah, well, he might level up and get something to save him between now and then?]
â¦Iâm keeping the quest, Emma shook her head. What can you tell me about the inside of the Palace?
[Nothing.]
Nothing? I know youâre not a big fan of my Dad, but is this really the time?
[Indulge me for a moment, alright? Picture this: a young Johne Smythe is born in Wick, in county Caithless, one of the northernmost towns in Scotland. He grew up a typical young boy, fascinated by fishing and football. He wasnât good enough to be scouted by a football academy, nor did he enjoy academia, so he took an apprenticeship on the fishing boat of a close family friend. At twenty three years old, he was swept overboard during a storm and presumed dead, his body never found despite the best efforts of the coast guard. Does all this sound reasonable to you?]
Yes? Emma replied after a momentâs thought. It's not the life Iâve known, but fishermen can and do die on the job.
[Which brings me to the point: prove to me that Johne existed.]
How? Emma retorted. I only know of him from your story.
[Right, which means that for you, Johne exists only insofar as Iâm telling you he did. If you were to take the time to go north, you might find more substantial signs of him. Old legal documentation, or the accounts of friends and family. But if none of that existed? If the man is gone, and every trace of his passing extinguished, did he ever exist?]
I donât know.
[You donât know. This is a problem, the same one Iâm facing right now, trying to look into the future of a certain basement. Space is so unstable that whatever I see exists only while my intent is focused upon it. In the time it would take to tell you what I saw, the world moves on.]
So what youâre saying isâ¦
[Youâre going in blind. Last chance to cancel the quest, if you want it.]
â¦Letâs get this over with, Emma sighed, snuffing out the Black Candle, and ordering Sir Bearington to head for the palace.