LostInTranscription
patreon
Chapter 27 Awakening arc
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 06:43:41 +0000 UTCThe very first advanced chapter. That sure is one of the things of all time, isn't it? Pdf and epub versions below. “Hello, father.” The Kin
The very first advanced chapter. That sure is one of the things of all time, isn't it?
Pdf and epub versions below.
“Hello, father.”
The King’s eyes focused, his voice low and weak. “Hello, son.”
“You’re dying, then,” Marcus said, feeling more bad about how little he felt than that his father was dying. “I won’t say it's about time, I’m not that cruel, but you held on quite long. Longer than I thought you- Margaret insists there is nothing to be done, too. Simply age taking its due.”
His father's mouth twitched into a smile. “It is the privilege… of the young to spend their time carelessly, the privilege of the old to condemn the young for wasting it. So it is, and so it will always be.”
His speech was faltering, broken up between gulps of air and pained pauses. Marcus sighed, withdrawing a potion from his pocket. One he’d been carrying the entire day for this very situation. He hesitated before handing it over, doing so only after another few seconds.
“Here,” he said, tipping the contents into a glass. “Vess brewed it. A demonic painkiller, deadly to humans. But not for a long few hours, and highly effective without addling the mind.”
The King drank it down without so much as a pause, relaxing back into his pillows almost the same moment he’d swallowed. A pleased smile stretched over his face, tone growing more even. “Poisoning your father to assume the throne. I never knew you had such ambition.”
“I’ve always had ambition, father,” Marcus replied, shaking his head with a small—almost involuntary—grin on his face. “It was just exclusive to magic. Now it is spreading its wings, and I have a feeling not everyone will thank you for setting that change in motion.”
His father’s face fell. “I regret it. I regretted it before I’d even done it, and yet not enough to stop. Can you forgive me, my son? Forgive an old man for his weakness?”
“No,” Marcus replied, sighing. “But I understand it. You had no other heirs, I was unfit to rule, the political dance for the Throne would have all but invited the Empire to invade while we tore ourselves apart. Not that they won’t do so anyway. A year, Helios says. A year until we’re at war.”
“A war you can’t win, but you know that. Planned for it. You are smarter than you give yourself credit for, my son. The ability to plan for failure alone makes you a better king than most. Power tends to breed arrogance.”
“I got it out of my system early, seeing as I was born with it,” Marcus replied dryly. “Unless you’ve already forgotten what I was like during my youth?”
The King laughed weakly. “No. No I have not. And I am sorry. I should have been stronger, then. Should have been able to look at you without your mother’s face haunting me. My beautiful Isebella. If the Gods are good I will see her soon. Oh, the things she will do to me for what I put you through.”
More laughter, darker this time, and Marcus shrugged. “I can’t even remember her face. Not since you had her likeness removed from the castle, when even the most loose-tongued servant didn’t dare breathe a word of her. Your wrath was a terrible thing in those early years. Not that I can remember much of that either.”
“It was,” the man said, shame in his tone. “I failed as a father. I failed as a husband. I could not stand to fail as a King. So I led you to a place where I knew you could not resist the lure of powerful magic, and hoped for the best. I was unduly rewarded. Blessed with a miracle, as little power as that word still holds.”
Marcus didn’t say anything immediately, watching a spasm going through his father’s hand. One of the first signs of the poison working, and sooner than expected. Hours had, perhaps, been optimistic.
“The Kingdom is in good hands,” he finally said. “Elly and I are getting along, the army is growing more disciplined by the week, my Academy is gaining traction. Even if the Empire does attack I think I’ll be able to keep governing the Kingdom, perhaps even as King.”
His father grunted. “Don’t speak to others about losing a war before it even starts. It is only logical, yes, but the Empire values strength above all. If you can prove yourself able to assist in holding back the dungeon, they will be lenient.”
“I know,” Marcus replied. “And that’s the plan. Doesn’t make for a good story, does it? The young King planning for his kingdom to lose the war before it even started. Elly won’t be happy with it, either, but she doesn’t understand. Not yet. Not until she sees for herself.”
The King shook his head. “Life is a story, of sorts, but it is not a particularly good one. Events happen without reason, people vanish with no explanation and motives are often left unclear. Everything is interconnected, usually to a point where it cannot be described accurately, and bad—or good—things occur regardless of who you are. Regardless of what you have done. But your Queen will understand that there is no winning against the Empire, not truly. Not when she understands their capital alone holds a million and a half souls, that their armies could fill Redwater entirely and still require more room.”
“Hopefully,” Marcus replied. “I’m just worried about how she will react. Elly has already been forced to accept defeat once, and I don’t know how she will deal with another blow.”
“She is strong, and she will adapt. If she falters it is your duty to support her, if you falter it is her duty to support you. Unity makes people more than the sum of their parts, my son. Remember that.”
His father settled back down, Marcus moving to speak of more inconsequential things. The few memories of his mother he still had, brought to life through his fathers own recounting. The progress of his Academy, the King admitting he'd tried something similar in his youth.
It had failed, obviously, but it was fascinating to hear. Apparently the Court Mages had killed it, his father relying on them to teach the new students. Marcus took that as a sign his idea to replace that order wholesale was a good one.
Then an hour later his father fell asleep, an hour after that his heart stopped beating, and three days later, after most of the nobility was gone and the mile long funeral procession had returned home, he laid a single poppy on the man’s grave.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Marcus looked around, noting the steadfast captain, the nervous lieutenant and the eager soldiers. He turned to Elly, tone low enough not to be overheard. “You cannot be serious.”
“It will be good fun,” she replied, seeming just slightly too eager. “War games are a good way to give experience to green troops, they allow officers to experience command and show how people react under stress.”
He nodded, eyes narrowing. “Very valid points. I still don’t see why I’m supposed to be fighting alongside one of the companies, even if they hold more mages than usual, and are fighting against you. It seems unfair.”
“War is unfair,” she shot back, seeming pleased with herself. “And it won’t just be one company, but five. Five each, that is. Don’t worry, I left you with a good commander. You’re always bragging about how this continent revolutionized warfare using magic. Prove it.”
Marcus straightened, giving in to her goading with a stern glare. “I do not brag, and I think I shall prove it. Objective?”
“Elimination. Either one of us gets captured or surrenders, our commander gets captured or surrenders, and one of our armies loses too many officers to maintain cohesion. I’ll bet you a single day off, the loser having to take up the other’s unwanted duties.”
“Done.”
She turned, leaving Marcus to deal with strangers. He could spy many Mirranians among the ranks, those who had enlisted and endured their bootcamp, but he knew none of them himself.
The captain stiffened as Marcus moved closer, the whole company snapping to attention. Whatever they’d been a few months ago, be that farmers, homeless or other, now he couldn't find a trace of it.
Elly, it seemed, was very good at drilling new recruits. Discipline first and foremost, but it is ever so important.
“We have another four companies, correct?”
“Sir,” the captain confirmed. “Commander Itmof is holding down the Fort River.”
Fort? Oh, no, he remembered. Elly had taken half of the forest near Redwater as her own. That and quite a bit of the increasingly empty lands her people had temporarily settled on. Building forts to teach the new recruits basic construction skills. Apparently much of warfare laid in preparation, and the more duties one's army was trained to do the better it did on campaign.
“Let’s go, then. And quickly. The Queen said elimination rules- I suppose you know what that entails?”
The captain nodded, gesturing to a squad of men. They looked older, more professional despite wearing the same thing as everyone else. They came forward as their officer spoke. “Stick close to the King. Elimination rules.”
Marcus didn’t comment, the captain barking for the company to get moving, and just like that Marcus found himself playing one of Elly’s war games. No killing, no cripplings, but the fighting was done with real weaponry. Accidents happened.
He all but felt himself falling back into his old military mindset, emotions dampening as he started moving. He was no officer, no true tactician, but he had learned something during the six month siege.
Learned that information was everything, speed was more important than raw power and ambushes were crippling. Marcus spun up two matrices, a small flock of Phantom Bats flying through shimmering portals with orders to watch for ‘suspicious and armed soldiers’, and Marcus summoned his full defensive suite.
A shield to stop both physical and magical based attacks, an inertia dampener to counter the force behind the attacks, sensation and environmental protection and finally an adaptive recharging matrix.
It took all his matrices, but sensation protection could be dropped and rebuilt as needed. So could the inertia dampener, and as Marcus concentrated his regular shield split into six grids.
With adaptive recharging that mattered somewhat less, but the shield could only stop so much damage at once. If one section should fail, the others wouldn't. It took more mental effort to keep going that way, but Hells, he could even rotate them independently. Much faster than rebuilding the entire shield.
They made good time, entering the forest soon after they’d left and arriving at the fort within the hour. It was an ugly thing of wood and dirt and rough construction, but it seemed stable. Well fortified. He could see soldiers wetting the wood, probably to stop someone from setting fire to the entire thing, and Marcus looked at how well the soldiers had settled in.
He’d reserved an entire day for this, yes, but he had obligations in the morning. The King coudn’t just fuck off and play war games for entire days at the time.
Commander Itmof, Marcus realized he’d actually seen the man before, joined them a few minutes after they’d entered. The company was dispersing, though the squad the captain had assigned to him stayed close, but everyone else was going every which way.
“Your Grace,” the commander said, saluting. An older man, at least over forty, and with enough scars Marcus needed no assurance he was speaking to a veteran. He spoke with an accent, too. A heavy one. The soldier cleared his throat. “Welcome to Fort River. The Queen informed me we are to play a five company war game?”
Of course she had. Marcus nodded. “Elimination rules. I assume our enemy has a fort of their own?”
“Fort Mountain,” Itmof confirmed. “Fifteen klicks north-north east. Time limit?”
“Nothing was decided, but I personally have obligations in the morning.”
Itmof hummed. “Hard and fast, then. I’ll rouse the men, it will be good for them to experience a rush maneuver. A group of mages arrived two hours ago with orders to send the same number of soldiers back towards Fort Mountain. I presumed they were for you. They settled in with the mages we already had.”
“They are. While I’m not quite hopeless as a soldier, commander, I shall leave the details of warfare up to you. In return, I’m going to demonstrate exactly why magic is held in such high regard here.”
The commander nodded once. “I’ll make sure my officers know you have authority over the mages. Captain Brazzon holds command.”
Not the best word choice, but Marcus decided to take that in the nicest way possible, even willing to blame it on a translation error. After a second the commander seemed to realize he’d just assigned the King authority over his own mages, which was superfluous at best and insulting at worst.
He waved the man off. “I want us moving as quickly as we can, commander.”
“Sir.”
Marcus got moving himself, finding the captain quickly enough. The man had been busying himself with the training of Marcus’ magical recruits, he remembered, those having volunteered for military service, and in combination with Elly’s old sixty four mages they now stood at one hundred and fourteen.
All capable of two, or even three, simultaneous matrices, and all trained in a host of what he considered ‘low level magics’. But low level didn’t mean harmless, their numbers and discipline aided in that, and frankly this was probably the largest collection of mages for a long while.
Even the Empire didn’t summon them in those kinds of numbers except to go to war.
Not all of the one hundred and fourteen were here, of course. Only nineteen of them, half of them Elly’s war mages and half his own recruits. He’d read her reports, despite what Elly so rudely implied the day before yesterday.
The captain saluted briefly before they went deeper into the camp. Marcus found himself relaxing as they joined the other mages, their separated quarters filled with clay slates and small experiments.
Keeping them all together had its risks, no doubt, but Marcus knew there wasn't really an alternative. Mages liked spending time with other mages, not to mention that theirs was a dangerous craft.
The room shot to attention as he entered, the captain close behind, and nodded to the mages. They stiffened further, for some reason. He ignored it, taking in the room briefly before turning to the mages properly. Captain Brazzon said nothing, looming near the doorway.
“Commander Itmof will soon be calling for a general assembly, but I want to go over some quick maneuvers for the upcoming war game. Our goal will be to defend against ambushes, provide intelligence and undermine the enemy's intelligence. We will be doing this primarily through summons, which will keep our magical reserves high. All here are capable of summoning Phantom Bats, correct?”
Nods all around, Marcus mentally banishing his own flock of demons. “Good. How are your elemental spells? Wind ones, specifically.”
More nods, though a few hesitant ones. The captain cleared his throat.
“No fire or stone spells,” the man said, aiming it at his troops but clearly speaking to Marcus. “Too easy to kill by accident. Be careful with water, and yes, wind is the safest. Not safe, but safest.”
Marcus inclined his head. “Indeed. We will keep ourselves to wind spells. Everyone here has been trained on how to properly combine spell matrices? Good. Keep it to two, which will generate enough wind to send a grown adult to the ground while not draining us too dry. I fully expect us to be ambushed, so once that happens, synchronize your attacks, halt their momentum, summon minor stone elementals as needed and make sure they have strict orders not to kill.”
“The rules are clear,” Brazzon said, eyes roving over his mages. “Magic is lethal, so every soldier knows to throw down their sword once hit with even a minor spell. Your duty after the battle is clear?”
The mages nodded. “Regroup, first aid, reconnaissance.”
“Very good,” Marcus grinned, spreading his arms. “Let’s go show them why magic is feared and loved in equal measure, my mages.”
Two hours. That's how long they walked through the forest before anything exciting happened. Marcus didn’t complain, of course, and kept himself entertained with his five matrix exercises, but he hadn’t quite internalized that warfare involved so much walking.
During the siege it was mostly sneaking or running, and neither of those for too long. But now they marched, and summoning Xathar would be a good way to get picked off by Elly’s arrows. So Marcus marched right alongside them, keeping close to his mages and squad of guards.
When it finally happened, it happened quickly. None of their summons had returned to warn them of the ambush, yet commander Itmof bellowed for everyone to brace. Five hundred souls snapped close together, large shields creating a wall of wood and metal, and wary eyes watched the surroundings.
Marcus frowned. Can Elly feel the Phantom Bats through their invisibility?
They didn’t have to wait long after that.
Marcus had sharpened his senses the moment Itmof spoke, as he’d been doing every five minutes or so for hours now, and still he couldn’t sense anything. So he sharpened them further, feeling a light headache bloom, and his head snapped to the side.
“Left,” he said, tone only loud enough for his mages to hear. All nineteen of them shifted, Marcus feeling magic starting to swirl as they prepared their matrices. He didn’t craft one himself, keeping his defenses active. “Wait for the captain's orders.”
The remaining soldiers did as their commander ordered, but Marcus left them to it. He was not a soldier, and neither was he going to pretend to be one. He was a mage, and magic held a more important place in war than Elly’s people could ever imagine.
He didn’t quite smile when shapes emerged past the treeline, near exactly where he’d warned his mages they would come from, but he did nod to himself. Ducked behind a shield as bolts started flying, hundreds of soldiers both veteran and not preparing for a close-quarters battle.
They were surrounded, which was the true danger of an ambush, but at least these men had discipline. Locked their shields, creating static lines of battle which reduced casualties massively.
The distant shapes formed into men and women, armed and thundering down the small slope, and captain Brazzon warned his men to hold as they got closer and closer. Marcus focused on Elly as best he could, losing her signature quickly amidst the chaos, and the seconds slipped by. The enemy moved closer, bolts continued to rain down on them, the soldiers moved closer still.
Brazzon barked at his mages to fire, nineteen double-matrix wind spells sparking to life just beyond the shieldwall. The wind started howling like a wolfpack, ripping forth and sending small twigs and stones flying.
Elly’s soldiers continued to charge forward, their momentum too large to stop now, and had the attack been flame-based, dozens would have burned. More, had Marcus joined his mages in the attack.
He hesitated, briefly unsure and mind running in circles.
The left-side charge collapsed into sprawling limbs, soldiers tripping over their own comrades in a display that was more funny than it should be. A half company of Marcus’ crossbowmen turned their way, shooting the disorganized line with blunted wooden bolts, and by the time the disorganized soldiers managed to get back up, nearly all had thrown down their weapons.
Marcus heard Brazzon bark at the mages to summon their elementals, stone creatures starting to emerge from portals, and the nineteen seven-foot tall creatures started charging towards the eastern front.
Less thinking. He berated himself. More doing. Give orders, lead the batt- No.
He turned his mind away from the fighting, even as the elementals started clobbering Elly’s soldiers over the head as gently as they could, and focused. There were officers to lead the soldiers. He concentrated on finding Elly, who hadn’t shown herself yet.
Her Life Enhanced troops had, tearing apart Marcus’ western flank, but Brazzon was already redeploying mages to assist. Yet there was still no sign of Elly, and he had a feeling she was coming straight for him. Coming to eliminate the enemy leader, using her superior speed and strength to hit hard and vanish.
Marcus was proven right not seconds later, a blunted arrow impacting his magical defenses. He ducked as his reflexes screamed, the squad still keeping close to him raising their shields, and the next arrow impacted said shields. Impacting and promptly breaking the soldier’s shoulder.
The man went down with a string of curses, Marcus hissing under his breath. She wanted to play rough, did she? He could play rough. His defenses were stripped of elemental protection and inertia damping, the two freed matrices forming spells from a different discipline altogether.
Divination.
The matrix was slow to weave, but he was very familiar with Elly’s Life Enhancement signature. It was purer than those of her pupils, not to mention stronger, and even her ability to suppress it was unique. The working snapped into place, a golden thread only he could see stretching out into the forest.
Marcus used his last free matrix to craft a telekinetic arm, linking to a nearby tree and sending himself up and away. Leaving the safety of the soldiers was a risk, but one he hoped would allow him to ambush Elly as she had ambushed him.
Hells, his five matrix exercise had seemingly improved his dexterity with telekinesis, even one arm being enough to let him almost fly through the forest. His reserves drained as he hit a tree, bouncing rather awkwardly back to the ground, but even that didn’t cost him as much as it used to.
And after a long thirty seconds, there she was. Two of her enhanced guards with her, bow in hand and eyes scanning a fight she should not be able to see. But her senses were sharp, and as Marcus threw himself into the small clearing she flicked her hand.
The two guards moved to intercept him, Marcus letting divination drop to craft another telekinetic arm. The two tentacles grabbed the soldiers, both a little too slow to dodge, and he threw them deeper into the forest. Gently so, but with enough force to imply he could have shattered them wholesale.
That left just Elly, and she finally turned to him. Set her bow to the side, Marcus idly noting it was a different one than she’d used during their first spar.
She moved, sword flashing to impact his shield, and Marcus crafted his inertia matrix in the nick of time. Then the sword glowed green, slicing through his defenses, and Marcus punched her in the face with a wind matrix.
Elly angled herself just right to avoid being thrown across the woods, the movement costing her a split second, and Marcus rotated a different section of his shield to block her. He strained, something seeming to click into place as he spun up a fifth matrix.
His magic drained rapidly as three shield matrices interlaced, a rune that burned to his magical senses snapping a cage around his wife. She carved through that too, her sword seeming to shift to a deeper green, but Marcus let his shield drop. Straining, his low-grade headache turning sharp as he summoned a spark of arcane fire inside her temporary cage.
Elly froze, only needing a second longer to escape. But they both knew a second was enough for him to burn her to ashes, so she let her sword drop. Scowled, the annoyed look undercut by her twitching lips.
She was having fun, and quite frankly, so was Marcus. He cleared his throat, letting his matrixes drop and feeling the headache recede an inch. “Now then, and if you’ll excuse me, I have an army to break.”
“Eight to you, ten to me. Now we’re nine to ten. I’m still one ahead.
Marcus ignored her, turning back to the battle and inspecting his reserves. Found them holding steady at a third of his capacity, feeling a grin take over his face.
Yes, break was exactly the right word for what he was going to do.
