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314. A Shared Madness
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 15:00:07 +0000 UTCThe two figures reached the bottom of the stairs, vanishing from Ike’s sight. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but quickly schooled his face back into the respectfully neutral expression of all the puppets around him. If they were all lined up on the street, it implied that Brightbriar and the mystery woman would be heading this way. He was right where he needed to be.
A short time passed. The puppets continued to wait. To Ike’s surprise, they shuffled a bit, some stretching, others yawning, clearly still under their own power. And that was the strangest part of this all—or rather, it had been from the beginning. There was no sign any of these puppets were under Brightbriar’s control. Except for the automatons on the surface and in the production room, the puppets down here were all acting as if they were people. Taking lessons. Cleaning. Building. Doing things of their own accord, to support Brightbriar’s visit, as he now knew. It made sense that the puppets would wake up for a visit, but why wake them with their own minds? From the beginning, why leave them with their own minds at all? They were puppets. Every other time he’d seen puppets, they were, well… puppets. Clarina and her parents hadn’t been left untouched. They’d become little more than Llewyn’s lackeys. Sure, Shopkeep’s people had possessed their own minds, but that was during the infiltration phase, and they only maintained them afterwards through Shopkeep’s immense will and the Mage’s Tower spell, at the cost of Shopkeep’s own mind.
This was long beyond the infiltration phase. Brightbriar was in complete control, and these people still possessed their own minds, their hopes, their dreams. Why? For what purpose did this city sleep, full of fully-aware puppets submerged in a long wait, only to wake up for Brightbriar’s whims, fully mentally intact? If they were mentally intact, why not reject Brightbriar? Why accept him, welcome him, allow him to do as he wished? True, they were likely long-since fully dominated, but to greet their conqueror with freshly-rebuilt houses and clean streets… Ike’s mind boggled at the prospect. A few ideas wiggled in the back of his head, but he forcefully rejected them. It couldn’t be. Such a thought was too cruel, even for Brightbriar. Too far beyond the pale.
Before long, the two figures appeared at the far end of the main road. They walked slowly down it, looking at the puppets as they passed. Occasionally, the woman stopped to examine someone, or something, or watched some sort of demonstration. At one point, a cadre of puppet children flew past on their brooms, laughing joyfully, and the woman smiled along with them. The entire procession was a display of joy, a celebration of life, however false that life might be. Ike rankled at it, but was powerless to do anything. He plastered a generic expression on his face and waited for the two to approach.
Robes swished. The silken garment the lady wore shone, reflecting the light. She and Brightbriar drew close, walking slowly, enjoying their stroll. As they grew close, Ike felt their combined pressure press down on him. At one point, he’d heard a rumor that Brightbriar was Rank 4. Now, in close proximity to the man, at Rank 3 himself, he knew for certain that it was naught but a rumor. Brightbriar was stronger than that. At least Rank 5, maybe even higher. His strength tested Ike’s ability to gauge mana signatures, and not only that, but Ike was loathe to linger too long on Brightbriar, lest Brightbriar sense the examination.
The man was more handsome than Ike remembered, or rather, he’d never seen him up close. Clear skin, without a single spot of wrinkles. No scars on his flesh. He looked like a young man, barely a few years older than Ike. If not for a single streak of gray in his hair, running back from the center of his forehead, he might have even passed as a teenager. A gentle face, soft eyes, and broad shoulders finished the look. Gentle, but sturdy. A fatherly figure, despite his seeming youth. He wore the same white robes he’d always worn in Ike’s home city, and had the same placid, unexaminable smile as ever.
The lady paused, as she had several times before. Her eyes locked onto Ike.
Not me. Not me. Not me, Ike prayed silently. Closer. Closer. He smelled the scent of her perfume, saw every detail of the fine golden filigree on her blouse. Her hand reached out.
And gripped Wisp’s chin. Ike held his breath, restraining the urge to widen his eyes, somehow more scared than if she’d brought attention to himself. Don’t do anything rash, you tiny, crazy spider. Please.
“So lifelike. I still can’t get over it,” the woman murmured. She turned Wisp’s head to the left and right, and in a miracle, Wisp didn’t strike out, but let her turn it. “Warm to the touch. Soft skin. I wouldn’t have known these were puppets if you didn’t tell me.”
Brightbriar chuckled. “It is my specialty, after all.”
“Even the mana signature…” she murmured, and her eyes narrowed. She focused on Wisp, more closely than before.
Ike’s heart leaped in his chest. Not now. Come on. Stop looking at Wisp!
The woman peered closer, lowering her face to be even with Wisp’s. “Even…”
“If you’re done with your examination, Madame Perigierre, I have another demonstration for you,” Brightbriar said, incidentally interrupting her.
“Ah? Oh, of course.” Madame Perigerre stepped away from Wisp and retreated to his side, clasping her hands by her chest. “How exciting. What treat do you have for me, here?”
Ike breathed out. Thank goodness. What a lucky coincidence, that Brightbriar had interrupted her at that moment.
Brightbriar clapped, and instantly, all the puppets jolted into motion. Ike started walking as well, if only because he didn’t know what else to do. He took Wisp with him, and Mag followed after the two of them like a baby duckling. All around them, the puppets hurried to their shops, or simply resumed walking the streets. In an instant, it went from a quiet, lined parade route to a busy street. He strode the streets, joining the other puppets who were pretending to peruse wares, but moved slowly, staying close enough he could still hear the two through the hustle and bustle.
“They have free will. There is, in fact, little difference between a puppet and a man, once you get down to the basics. They are free to do as they wish,” Brightbriar pitched.
Ike’s heart twitched. This really was a sales demonstration. This entire city… no. Did this entire city exist only so that Brightbriar could sell his madness? But who on earth would want to purchase it?
Madame Perigerre answered his unspoken question before Ike could even finish wondering. “Wonderful. But you can still control them, yes? No more rebellion, no more complaints, no more politicking?”
“I caution against completely suppressing them, but yes. You can simply remove that from their minds. Once they are puppets, they are much easier to manipulate. The more you remove, the less human they become, and the harder it is for them to advance in power… you understand. A mage still needs drive to grow stronger. Puppet mages struggle more than ordinary mages to advance, but advancement is still possible. You don’t have to worry about your forces slowly deteriorating or stagnating completely.”
“Ah, well. That kind of thing can also be a boon,” Madame Perigerre said, giving Brightbriar a grin, and they shared a quiet laugh.
“Yes, of course. If there is some upstart mage you wish to suppress, or a rival who’s been troubling you for too long, then as long as you can ensure they are safely puppetized, they shall trouble you no longer,” Brightbriar agreed.
Ike’s heart twisted. This wasn’t right. Someone had to stop them. But who? He wanted to, but he was powerless. Still far too weak to oppose them. Even with Mag, Wisp, and Shawn at his side, fighting Brightbriar now would be nothing but suicide, or worse, puppetification. I have to get stronger. I have to master the King, control that skill completely, and continue to grow. This is why. I cannot allow this insanity to spread any further.
A shriek. From out of the crowds, a woman charged Brightbriar, wielding a knife. She was Rank 3, and powerful. Her mana churned in a way Ike had never seen it churn before, as she closed in on him. “This is for my son! You monster!”
He watched, morbidly curious. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. And yet… Brightbriar allowed this?
Brightbriar snapped his fingers. The woman went slack. Her mana returned to normal. She fell to the ground, the knife rolling from her grasp. Her eyes widened, and her jaw moved, silently shouting something, straining for the knife, but nothing but her head could move. The rest of her laid limp on the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut.
“And of course, this is but an amusing demonstration, but if anyone were to attempt to harm you…” Brightbriar loomed over the fallen woman. He pressed his boot against the side of her head. “Their free will can be rescinded in an instant, regardless of their strength. Their life is yours.”
His foot slammed down. Porcelain shattered, and black goo splattered over the spotless street, speckling the hem of Brightbriar’s robes. He smiled at the woman and daintily brushed the goo free. “As simple as that.”
Ike glared. As simple as that. The woman had never had a chance. Even if it was hopeless for a mortal to charge a mage, at least they could make the attempt. At least they could stab, even if their knife would shatter, even if their life was forfeit. And who knew? Perhaps with the proper artifact, they could even harm the mage. But here? With puppets, populating the entire city, and not a single citizen with true free will? Here, all it took was a thought, and all possible revolution ended.
Sickening. Ike looked away, unable to watch any longer, but the resolve in his heart was harder than ever. He had to destroy Brightbriar. There wasn’t another option. He wasn’t strong enough yet. But he’d get there. He would, and when he did, Brightbriar would find out what happened when he faced a mage that wasn’t dancing in the palm of his hand.
