Chapter Text
Toren Daen
I frowned at the three-pointed array as I stared at it using my Acquire Phase, tapping a foot in irritation. In front of me, three spots of blood created a positive feedback loop that glowed with a simple silver light streaked through with fuschia-tinged ochre.
Mana and lifeforce both swirled around from point to point. The mana somehow seemed more charged, each bit of energy bouncing off the points like a ball thrown against a wall at an angle. Its triangular flow around the array held a strange sort of allure as the silver sheen oscillated.
But my heartfire seemed to flow within and without the mana, utterly ignoring it as it pulsed in a controlled rhythm from blood spot to blood spot. Not the rigid bouncing of the silver energy all around it, but more of a tranquil stream that burbled over bumps.
It had taken a gamble for me to finally manage to ignite my lifeforce to flow from point to point. I couldn’t activate it remotely like Circe Milvew could: instead, I needed to connect a vein of my lifeforce to one point, then let a spark drop as if into gasoline.
But it felt like I was fighting against myself when I tried to make this array. Fighting against my insight, even if I’d managed a workabout way to make it work. I’d treated the spots of blood as if they were a human body, drawing on the insight I’d gained from attaching Sevren’s prosthetic.
Yet it wasn’t complete.
While I’d finally managed to maneuver my lifeforce into coursing around the array, it still failed to interact with or affect the mana in any way. It seemed I still couldn’t replicate the true effects Circe Milview had managed with her array and lifespan.
“Do not be so discouraged, my bond,” Aurora’s puppet said from the side, observing the triangular flow. “Remember that heartfire almost never interacts with mana. You do not have a basis for this, and you are working with half the pieces. But…”
“But?” I pushed, sensing my bond’s hesitance.
“There may be something that emulates this, though I know not for certain,“ my bond said. “The artifacts that empower and bind each Lance of Dicathen to their respective monarchs were created in a joint effort between my brother and Lord Indrath.”
I turned to my bond, my eyebrows raising as I considered this information. The Lances were supposedly stronger than your average white core mage due to the strengthening effects of those artifacts. And if those strengthening effects were somehow achieved with lifeforce…
“Do you know how they work?” I asked, feeling a bit of giddy hope. “If so, then…”
Aurora sadly shook the avian head of her puppet. “Unfortunately not, Toren. I will admit that at the time, I did not find your races… worth my time. What Mordain did to assist Kezess in strengthening the peoples of Dicathen had nothing to do with me. And afterward, I never got a true chance to ask, as Mordain discovered the true fate of the djinn as he delivered the relics. Our clan fled Epheotus not long after.”
I frowned, cataloging this story. Yet talks of Mordain and his flight made me think of something else.
“Hey, Aurora?” I asked solemnly, stepping away from the array of mana and lifeforce. I moved back toward the bed I’d slept in last night, slumping into the surprisingly soft mattress. “Do you want to go to the Hearth? I mean… you could speak to your brother again. Your son, Chul. It would be good for them to know you’re alive.”
Aurora’s relic slowly stopped moving, gradually becoming still as a statue. And after a moment, the Unseen World washed over my vision. My phoenix bond, in her martial robes and with a hole over her heart, looked at me with a deeply complicated expression.
“I have considered such action,” she said both over my mind and aloud. “But no matter how much it pains me, I… I cannot. You are not ready to brave the depths of the Beast Glades to seek my Hearth. The monsters within the deepest depths can pose a challenge to even a young asura should they let their guard down.”
I swallowed, feeling a bit guilty for my weakness. Aurora, sensing my slight shame, chuckled in amusem*nt. “Worry not, Toren. We still have time for you to grow. One day, I shall speak to my family again. But…”
I watched as my bond’s expression fell slightly, a trace of a deeper emotion seeping over our bond. “What is it, Aurora?” I asked, sensing her trepidation as I stepped forward. “Are you okay?”
“It is nothing, Toren, just–”
My bond’s words were interrupted by a sharp, angry yell, audible only due to my enhanced hearing. It cut through the moment like jagged scissors through paper, forcing my attention away from my bond.
And suddenly, I could feel a wash of furious intent that I’d somehow tuned out earlier. Over a dozen rumbling mana signatures contributed to the feeling of burning anger that churned in the atmosphere.
My eyes widened in surprise as I lurched off the bed, the Unseen World vanishing from my eyes. I darted to the open window–none of the Darvish structures had glass–and peered out, focusing mana into my eyes as I immediately honed in on the source of the disturbance.
Not far away, a group of dwarves faced off with a dozen Alacryan soldiers. I couldn’t make out their features exactly from this distance, but I could sense the anger surging through the dwarves and the contempt radiating from the Alacryans.
Damn it, I thought, recognizing how close the two sides were to direct conflict. I shouldn’t have let my attention slip!
I jumped out of the window, rocketing off the stone sill with a burst of telekinesis. As I approached, my enhanced eyes were able to note as the lead dwarf–Jotilda Shintstone, snarled as she shifted her hand to her axe. The opposing man–clearly a highborn Alacryan, considering his proper dress and haughty upturn of his chin–feathered his hand against a dagger strapped to his hip.
The noble, with an arrogant sneer on his face, opened his mouth.
And I arrived, skidding to a halt opposite from the two crowds. The sound of my skidding boots drew the attention of both groups, each looking at me in turn. My skid turned into an agitated walk as I moved forward, looking between both the dwarves and the Alacryans.
“What is happening here?” I demanded, still sensing the anger radiating from each side. My brow knitted in irritation as I looked at both leaders. “Explain to me. Both of you.”
The noble spoke first, puffing out his chest. ”These dwarves were complaining of their lack of strength,” he said. “So we mentioned that they’d have strength aplenty once they bore proper blood. This geriatric dwarf didn’t like the truth, so she started getting up in our faces.”
Jotilda’s face twisted into a furious scowl as she opened her mouth to retort, but I cut her off. “We speak one at a time,” I ground out, flexing my mana. Though it irritated me to do so, I did need to listen to both sides. Even if I disliked the pompous man at the front immediately. The dwarves rustled angrily, but there was naught they could do.
“And you didn’t inform me?” I pushed. “Why are you so quick to fight our allies, lieutenant?”
I could make out the lieutenant’s mark on his doublet, alongside another symbol that I could swear was familiar. Furthermore, the make of his clothes was of a higher quality than most present, marking him as someone of import.
The highblood youth squared off with me, his eyes narrowing. “It’s not our fault you don’t keep your dwarves on a tighter leash, Daen.”
I felt my brows raise at the obvious disrespect. Sensing it, too, many of the dwarves had begun to back off, watching the interplay between me and this lieutenant, though just as many grew even more furious at the fool’s insinuation.
I stared at the man. He stared back.
“What is your name, lieutenant?” I asked calmly, tilting my head much as Aurora usually did.
“Kiel of Highblood Patamoor,” he said, raising his sharp chin higher. “Considering you’re the only member of a Named Blood, you should know exactly where we stand.”
Unbidden, I felt my lips stretch into a grin as the man said those words. Patamoor again, huh? “You have no idea who I am, do you?” I said, unconsciously projecting a bit of my amusem*nt into my intent.
I noticed more than a few of the soldiers around Kiel Patamoor backing away, their faces draining of color. Kiel didn’t seem to notice. “I know you arrived yesterday,” he said, “And Scythe Seris set you on pet duty. And my father’s told me of your petty little music concerts, too. All in all, not much of anything, are you?” he goaded. “The best you could do was get High Vicar Varadoth’s attention, according to my father.”
I noticed a familiar face in the crowd of slowly retreating nobles. Lusul Hercross, the Named Blood boy who led the string orchestra in Central Academy, swallowed visibly. His dark skin was layered with a bit of sweat, and his nearly-pink eyes were focused on me.
After a moment to think, it made sense. How long had this noble been stuck in these caverns? How often did he get news updates from Alacrya? And to be fair, I doubted Kiel’s family wanted to tell him the truth of what happened after I got Varadoth’s attention.
I took a single step forward, allowing my intent to dip into something deeper for a bare instant. “Varadoth is dead,” I said seriously, feeling what little amusem*nt I felt at this petty boy’s attempt at ruffling my feathers dissipate. “I was there when his head was separated from his shoulders.”
On instinct, Kiel Patamoor stepped backward, his face shifting into something uncertain. He opened his mouth to speak again, but one of his lackeys rushed forward, grabbing him by the arm and hurriedly whispering into his ears, a smattering of fear on their face. From the muttered words I could catch–namely, ‘Plaguefire,’ ‘Mardeth,’ and ‘Doctrination’--I had a feeling he’d be regretting his words very, very shortly.
Overhead, Aurora’s relic drifted down on bladed wings, settling over my shoulder and peering at Kiel with her burning eyes.
I exhaled, turning to Jotilda as Kiel’s face slowly lost more and more color, each word entering his ear seeming to drain a bit more of his lifeforce. “And what exactly, according to you, happened here?” I said.
Jotilda's wrinkled face warily noted the growing fear in Kiel Patamoor’s face before turning to me. “We broke into a new cavern last night,” she grunted slowly. “But it’s a big one, with more than a few branching tunnels. We need an expeditionary force to map it out and wipe out any lurking mana beasts within.” The dwarven elder’s lips curled up as a bit of anger entered her intent once more. “And those bastards thought our lack of numbers meant lack of strength, but they’ve clearly never tasted dwarven steel before,” she snarled.
The dwarves behind her churned in agreement. And from the picture I was putting together, Kiel Patamoor was beyond an idiot. The dwarves outnumbered the Alacryan soldiers in this cavern nearly four to one, and they were on their home turf. If a fight truly broke out, I could easily see his little group getting overwhelmed.
I nodded slowly, thinking I had a solid idea of what had happened. Jotilda had been speaking to the dwarves about who she could pull away from their work, and Kiel had retorted with unsavory remarks that pushed each group nearly to blows.
I thought for a moment. “And how many people would you need for a theoretical expedition to clear out this cavern?” I pressed, an idea coming to mind.
Jotilda looked unsure. “I was hoping for a few yellow core mages familiar with the tunnels,” she said slowly. “Don’t know what’s down there. Tunnel worms, depth bats, gallow spiders… Anything’s possible in those caves. We need to be able to face an S-class mana beast if we cross one.”
“Okay,” I said, a plan solidifying in my mind. “Thank you for telling me.”
I turned to Kiel once more, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes. He, in turn, was deathly silent as he held his breath, more than a little fear leaking through his intent. Evidently, his friend had finished explaining to him the Plaguefire Incursion.
“If you wish to create amicable relations between dwarf and Alacryan, you cannot have such a man in control here,” Aurora whispered into my ear, her clockwork construct whirring simultaneously. “Act accordingly.”
“How many men are under your command, Patamoor?” I asked, following my bond’s train of thought.
“Twenty-three,” he answered stiltedly. He looked very much like he wanted to run, but there wasn’t exactly anywhere for him to run to. “Twenty-three total, my lord.”
Getting the answer I was looking for, I inspected the crowd behind Kiel, my eyes finding the one person I was looking for. “Lusul Hercross,” I said, calling the young man, “Come forward.”
The man’s pink eyes were blown wide as he stepped forward uncertainly. He’d mentioned offhandedly that his father wanted him to go to war with the Dicathians, to beat some savages.
And while I didn’t like that motivation, I’d rather the danger I knew, and I suspected Lusul would be slower to start any sort of fight or voice what negative opinions he had.
“Would you like to be a lieutenant leading twenty-three people, Lusul?” I asked casually.
The young man blinked, clearly surprised by my offer. Behind him, Kiel Patamoor flushed red with anger.
“You can’t!” he snapped, stepping forward and revving his mana. “I earned my position, Daen! You can’t just–”
“And you lost it, too,” I said simply, staring the man down as I squared my stance. “If you go into battle beside these dwarves, do you want to be the man who alienated them? Who made them second-guess protecting your back, because you clearly wouldn’t do the same?”
I looked over the present soldiers, who shuffled uncertainly. “The dwarves are our allies, not our enemies. Not ‘lessers.’ So you’ll treat them as such, not as punching bags for your amusem*nt. Am I clear?”
Eventually, Kiel lowered his head in shame, stepping back, the wind taken from his sails.
“I’ll take it,” I heard Lusul say after a moment. “I’d be honored to lead,” he said, puffing out his chin.
“He will be indebted to you for his position,” Aurora added, thinking more politically. “Which makes him bound to act more as you wish. Because if you can grant such a position, you can take it away just as easily.”
“Good. I’ll send a message to Seris in a moment to solidify this,” I said. If I explained my reasoning, I was sure Seris would ratify this action, even if I wasn’t given express military command. She’d told me to ensure cooperation and understanding between dwarves and Alacryans, and that started with taking those like Kiel from power.
I turned to Jotilda. “Does that satisfy you?”
The woman nodded slowly, her armor clanking. “It does,” she said slowly, seeming uncertain. “If I were you, I would have whooped his arse, but I suppose this’ll do, too.”
I shrugged as the crowds slowly began to disperse, each person muttering and talking to themselves. I caught a few thankful nods from the dwarves, but to my surprise, a great number turned away in irritation when I tried to meet their eyes.
This will take time, I reminded myself. Hopefully, once they see my sincerity, I’ll start to make some headway.
“I learned from a very, very smart woman that some of the largest problems are best solved without punching things,” I said, thinking of Seris’ confrontation with Mardeth in his temple. “But speaking of punching things, are you still recruiting for that tunnel expedition?”
Jotilda turned to face me fully, her brow creasing. “And if I was?”
“I’d ask if gallow spiders have more than four legs,” I said seriously, looking at the dwarven woman.
“They’re spiders,” she replied, as if I were insane.
“Then I volunteer my assistance in fighting whatever beasts get in your way.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “I can take any S-class monsters that get in your way if that’s what the ultimate problem is.”
Anything with more than four legs–or less than two, for that matter–should be exterminated.
Jotilda looked about ready to protest, but then she looked at the Alacryans who still eyed me nervously. “We need all the help we can get,” the aged dwarf said with a grunt. “But make no mistake, Alacryan. The tunnels are dark and dangerous. If you want to survive, you’ll follow my lead.”
I nodded. “Leave the experts to their work. Got it,” I said simply.
Jotilda scoffed, turning on her heels. “Better hope you can do more than speak pretty words, Lord Daen,” she said back. “Or you’ll find the noose of a gallow spider around your throat.”
—
I pulled my glove over the chain tattoo on my hand, covering the red mark from the firelight. I flexed my hand, hearing the mana beast leather creak with a satisfying sound.
I stood near where the new cavern system had been unearthed, a tunnel stretching before me into darkness. Aurora’s puppet had been phased back into its brooch form, which was pinned to my chest.
I had tied my hair in a half-up, half-down style, my locks brushing my shoulders. I was wearing a long-sleeved gray tunic and loose black pants, designed to be more breathable in the stifling air of the underground. Overtop my shirt, I wore a solid maroon vest that was tied off with a dark belt, allowing me a semblance of familiarity even if the make and style were more rugged than the classy look I was used to.
“You got no weapon, Alacryan?” I heard a familiar gruff voice say behind me. “Are we going to have to protect your sorry arse?”
I turned, raising a skeptical brow as I looked at Jotilda. She was wearing a helmet that covered everything but her face, allowing her long, gray braid to trail down the back of her plated armor. She must have been sweltering in that metal, but she showed absolutely no sign of discomfort along her stocky features.
Behind her, two more dwarves trailed mutely. One had a long orange beard that stretched down to his pot belly, a stern look on his face as he hefted a mace over his shoulder. The other had hair as black as pitch with a scruffy, forked mustache that covered his mouth entirely. From how bushy his eyebrows were, I couldn’t make out any sort of expression on his face. A meaty crossbow was strapped to his back.
From what I could sense, both were around the light orange stage of core development, while Jotilda herself was a solid yellow core.
With a flourish, I withdrew Inversion from my dimension ring. I’d ornamented the dagger-shaped horn, wrapping it in a solid leather grip. I twirled the white horn through my hand. “I’ve got the weapon I need right here,” I said, slotting it into my belt in one deft motion. “Before we go, though, what exactly will our roles be?”
Jotilda's hand rested solidly on the axe in her belt. “These two are Borzen and Gruhnd, augmenter and conjurer,” she said gruffly. “That means striker and caster, but more versatile than anything you can do. And you’re going to stay in the middle and not mess this up.”
I sighed internally at the dwarven elder’s continued hostility. “Okay,” I said. “The best case scenario is that I’m not needed in the first place anyway.”
The dwarf with hair like a scraggly bush said something, but it was muffled and incoherent from his facial hair. Jotilda shook her head, while the fiery-haired mace-wielder nodded sternly.
“You’re right, Gruhnd,” the mace-wielder said. “But it’s not like we have a choice. Those were Elder Rahdeas’ orders. And you know him.”
Jotilda marched past me, setting me in the center of their formation. “Borzen has a point,” she said, referencing the orange-haired dwarf with a pot belly, “But that doesn’t mean we need to show it. We have a job to do here.”
I raised a hand quietly. “Might I ask what you’re talking about?” I hedged, feeling confused. I couldn’t understand Gruhnd’s words at all, but the two dwarves nearby seemingly could.
They ignored me as they began marching toward the tunnel, forcing me to lower my hand uncertainly as I trailed along.
