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Chapter 390
🕑 Added 2022-02-16 15:19:09 +0000 UTCEnjoy!
* * *
The Claw left the large industrial elevator and found themselves within a squat building at the very edge of the Risen Ward, as Atar informed him the topmost layer of Ahkestria was called. The building itself was simply a series of empty storerooms and service hallways that led out onto a shallow portico. Columns of orange stone rose all around them, their centers striated with more of those ember-hued crystals. They gave off a cheery glow that lit their way down the steps and onto a wide thoroughfare.
Fiammetta led the way, and Felix did not miss how her Temple Guards spread out among his people. They acted as shepherds, corralling his Claw without seeming to, and though he didn't sense any malice in them, Felix could hear a dense wariness that strummed through every single one of their Spirits.
What are they afraid we'll do, exactly? The Continent wasn't exactly a trusting place, so perhaps that was the full extent of their wariness. Who could be comfortable with having a foreign militant force in their home? I suppose we don't look all that peaceful.
The Fiend's Claw was bedraggled and bleeding, but their faces were fierce and their weapons were all to hand. Felix silently cheered the grit that drove them, even though he knew many were only steps from exhaustion. No. They did not look peaceful or compliant, and that was fine with Felix.
The streets were empty of people, the few hours remaining before dawn proving the darkest and quietest. The opulence of the Risen Ward also lent itself to that impression—there were no bakers or laborers up at ungodly hours to begin their days. The topmost level of the city was filled with the rich and their servants, though perhaps Felix would begin to sense the latter rushing about in the coming hours. For now, it was deathly still and filled with the thump and clatter of their boots and wagons.
"These crystals..." Felix ran a hand over the nearest example of blooming Mana crystals. They hummed with a potent fire, banked behind its strange matrices. "They're beautiful."
The wide streets, paved evenly with huge slabs of white stone, were lined with the crystalline growths. Some were simply waist-high clusters, while others towered twice the size of the two story buildings around them. Every one appeared as flowers or fountains of crystal growth, none the same yet all grown in line with some sort of aesthetic.
"I am impressed," Zara admitted. She walked by Felix's side, just behind the Faun. "The power needed to shape such purified Mana would have been extremely taxing." Even for me, her words suggested. "To compress enough to manifest even a handful of Mana is a feat worthy of legends. Most will never reach such heights."
"The Founders of our City were the strongest of their Age," Fiammetta said. The conviction in her voice was a literal heat in the air—from her channels Felix spotted wisps of heat Mana escape to swirl around her form. "The knowledge of their making is lost to all but the Matrons and perhaps the Council, but few could replicate the Founders' feats. Instead we thank their departed Spirits for the boons that light our lives, and give glory to their memory."
Felix remained silent as they kept walking. Most streets appeared very similar, with wide avenues for traffic and smaller sidewalks for pedestrians. Forty to fifty-foot walls were everywhere, blocking the sight-lines of the Ward as each estate they passed did their best impression of some warlord's citadel. Opulence shown in the stone and metal used on the walls, all of it Tier III or higher, with filigree and gemstones inlaid along the tops and surmounting the small watchtowers.
"Who lives in these estates?" Felix asked.
"Those are the mansions of the Patricians of Ahkestria," Fiammetta said. "A vital force to our City's well-being and economy."
The woman obviously had great pride in her city, but the longer Felix listened to her the more she sounded like a tour-guide. Atar laughed. The sound was loud in the still night, and the red-headed Faun snapped her gaze to him.
"You mean merchant lords," Atar said, ignoring the narrowed eyes of their guide. "They're the backbone of power in the City. The unofficial third council, if you will, behind the Masters and the Matrons."
Felix kept his expression bland, but wanted very badly to roll his eyes. "Merchants, Masters, and Matrons? Was that intentional?"
Atar shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "I didn't name them."
"Representative Veil, while the Patricians," she emphasized the word so hard Felix could hear the capital letter. "Hold a great deal of power in our City, they are by no means a guiding force. That is the role of the Matrons of the Highest Flame."
"Then shouldn't I speak to them instead of the Council?" he asked.
Fiammetta flushed, the freckles across her deer-like nose vanishing for a moment as she stammered. "O-of course not. The Matrons do not speak to those who—that is, ahem." She straightened her robes and faced forward once again. "The Council deals in matters political. If you've spiritual concerns, then by all means please come to the Temple and seek out my fellow Disciples."
In a low, almost sub-audible tone, Atar muttered. He was clearly addressing Felix, trusting that Felix's Perception would pick it up easily. Which it did. "The Matrons influence things more than they like to admit. The Council is not under their thumb, but that isn't how they see things. It's simply considered rude to point it out, among those in the know."
More politics. Felix kept his sighs to himself and listened with half an ear as Fiammetta kept rattling off the highlights of living in Ahkestria. I imagine if I'd introduced myself as the Autarch, our party would be steeped in even more politics. Masquerading as a representative should be enough.
It was decided among their team that arriving as the Autarch could prove...complicated. Outside of his powerbase, even with the support of his small army, he would present a ripe opportunity for an attack. The Continent-wide notification had painted a target on his back, after all. His Authority did not work outside his Territory. No strange rituals and spells were at his finger tips, nor deep wells of power from the System itself. Here he was just a mortal man.
Or so they thought. And according to Vess, Deception was Diplomacy with the edges rubbed off. Power was perception, even in a world where people could shatter stone and bend metal with their bare hands.
Felix still wore his Veiling Amulet, which kept him from being Analyzed by anyone below Master Tier. That meant they'd have to give up the charade eventually—Felix very much doubted the Council of Masters would be fooled by it for long. But even Zara approved of keeping as low a profile as they could; they weren't really here to broker some trade deal with the Council, after all.
In the distance, Fiammetta pointed out the rising tower of the Temple of the All Burning Flame, and the relatively squat shape of its neighbor, the Council Rotunda. Both of them were blocks away, at the far reaches of the Risen Ward, and not their current destination. That lay just beyond a large round common area, one that was dominated by a huge water fountain. The fountain centerpiece was a statue formed entirely of Mana crystal, ranging in colors from orange and blue to green-gold and white-green. Fire, water, life, and air all intermingled, grown into the shape of a tremendous warrior bearing two spears that glinted with the deepest colors of water. Their features were muddled, either by the medium or by time itself, but Felix wasn't really paying much attention. His eyes were instead on the gates of a small estate that had been thrown open.
"Welcome, Representative Veil, to your accommodations for your stay. You and your staff have the run of the compound, though for safety's sake my Temple Knights will provide security."
Fiammetta's words drew Felix up short, and his attention flowed to the men and women that stood along the courtyard as the Claw entered. All of them were wearing heavy golden armor and bore swords, shields, and halberds.
"When will we meet your Council?" Vess asked.
Fiammetta's eyes snapped to the spearwoman, easily her opposite. Tall, dark, and possessed of a casual strength that the Faun hadn't missed. The girl had peered at all of them on the overly long journey to this walled estate, likely gathering as much information as she could.
The redheaded Faun only smiled. "The Council will convene in the afternoon, once the worst of the day's heat has passed. As is their way. I shall send a messenger to you all when your meeting will occur, but I imagine they will wish to greet you with as much haste as they can manage." She gestured and the thirty-odd guards began filing out of the heavy front gates. "The gates will close and seal behind me with a net of wards designed for your protection. Please do not be alarmed. They are merely a precaution against the Cursewinds."
"The Cursewinds do not reach the Risen Ward," Atar said. His expression was mild, but his Spirit thrummed with anxiety. "I am not aware of—"
"Much has changed in your time away, V'as," she said, her excitable voice subdued. She blinked, blanched, and drew herself up to her full height. "I will leave you to rest. Good evening, Representative Veil."
"Good evening," Felix murmured. He watched Fiammetta and her team exit and the gates close with a slow, inexorable boom. Arrays flared along their lengths, six or...no eight layers of them. His gaze returned to the Knights, who were still posted on the walls but had their backs to the inner portions of the estate.
"Feels like a trap," Evie said. Her fingers squeezed at her chain. "Don't like the look of those Knights or those wards."
"She wasn't lying about sealing us in," Atar said. His voice was weary, as if his earlier anxiety had worn him out. Or perhaps all the fighting they had just pushed through. "I believe I could unlock them, but I'd have to figure out the ward key."
Felix waved a hand at the gates. "I don't care about them. Not now. Zara, Harn." He looked to his mentors. "Gather all the injured within the main hall, here. Atar, do you have enough juice to muffle the sound?"
"Yeah, think so," the mage said. "I'll help get everyone in—"
"No, we have this," Vess said, putting her hands on Atar's shoulders. "Go inside. I will bring him in."
Atar sagged, slightly. "Thank you."
Felix frowned at the Knights, who were very obviously and pointedly not listening to them. He was positive they heard everything. "Move, people. We all deserve some rest."
* * *
It took Felix about an hour to devour the Primordial curse from all the afflicted, see to the healing of those with more serious wounds, and ensure that everyone had a bed to sleep in. Well. He accomplished the first part relatively quickly, and the rest were just trusting his friends to do what was best. Zara and Vess—tired as they were—both oversaw the healing of the Claw, while Harn and, surprisingly, Palin had proven to be a pair of deft hands at distributing supplies and quarters.
So it was all too soon that Felix found himself settled within the master chamber of the estate. He and Pit were cuddled together on a massive bed that, while extremely soft and inviting, was nevertheless not equipped to withstand their combined weight. It creaked alarmingly with every shift or restless kick Pit made, which had Felix feeling more tense than ever. It felt like a violent sneeze would send the whole thing crashing down. So he laid there, wide awake and staring at shadows playing across the coffered ceiling.
He felt tired, sore, and a little guilty.
Felix had waited to use his Chthonic Tribute until they were well out of the range of unfamiliar eyes...but he had not liked doing so. His people were in pain, and it chafed that he had to be so secretive. Zara had approved the move, obviously, as she maintained that one could never know what knowledge the enemy had at their disposal. Last thing he wanted was to be associated with a Primordial, and Chthonic Tribute had the Maw's stink all over it, even now.
Do the people here even know a Primordial is attacking people? That it's controlling the Cursewinds and the undead hordes? His Mind rolled through his memories, to what the Prioress had said to him. She didn't know they were Primordial Spawn either. So either they can't Analyze that part of them, or the creatures are new arrivals...but I'd bet on the former. The Revenants had also hidden their Type, back in Haarwatch.
The real question was whether he wanted to announce the details of their foe to the Council later. Doing so would require proof, he imagined, if the Council was ignorant of the threat. If they were not, and were simply keeping it under wraps...Felix wasn't sure what the point would be in revealing his knowledge.
He sighed, and the bed groaned. Felix had a feeling remaining anonymous in Ahkestria was going to be troublesome, but he only had to maintain it for a few days. Once the sun rose they would be able to start quietly canvassing the city and searching for evidence of the Minotaur. Felix doubted the guy would be hard to find; a seven foot tall bull man would likely stick out like a sore thumb.
Nothing to do about it now. Just rest, you idiot.
Felix took a soft, steady breath—careful not to rock the bed—and flared his Meditation Skill. It soothed him as he laid there, trying to sleep. The familiar pattern of the Skill was a calming song within him, coupled with one of his first memories on the Continent: of the Kingsap Tree where he had sheltered during his first, terrifying night. The recollection was warm and comforting, even if Felix had moved so very far away from the man he had been in those early days.
Yet his core space was distracting. Spinning large and fast near his dual cores, two Skills in particular were giving off a faint keening sound, like a tea kettle about to boil. Relentless Resolution and Sovereign of Flesh, both of them a single level off of Tempering into Adept Tier. And the final barrier to forming his Adept Body and fully advancing to the next stage of power. Felix scowled at them, spinning like slow gas giants in the multicolored light of his cores. He had used both Skills extensively since leaving his Stronghold, yet they refused to shift over that final gap. Felix had a sinking feeling that neither required brute force or stress, but something else. A fundamental understanding, perhaps.
Sleep refused to come, so he gave himself over to such musings. He started with the easier of the two.
Relentless Resolution was about primal movement. Beyond thought or reason, it was his Body's reaction to the world around him. In its previous form, it had drawn on his Willpower, but now it drew deeply on his Perception and Affinity. There were even hints of Evasion, Might, and Felicity in there, swirling among the convoluted patterns of the Legendary Skill. The higher the rarity, the more complex his Skill patterns appeared—Felix could feel them like unfinished songs, and the further their rarities rose, the more complete they sounded. But it also meant there was more nuance than Felix could parse with a simple investigation, even from within his core space. At the very least, he knew all of those stats and information from the outside world was gathered and fed directly into the Skill, which then translated it all into direct physical motion.
He had thought that absorbing more information, reacting, and fighting would advance the Skill. It had, to an extent. As he'd learned to press his stat advantage to its limit, he'd moved forward in a number of Skills, but the final level before Tiering up was always a struggle. It was like the System wanted to make sure he knew this was Important.
The most curious feature of Relentless Resolution was one it shared with several others. Deep Mind, Meditation, and even Oathbinding were all connected by a delicate tracery of linkages to the hub that was his Bastion of Will. On a whim, he descended into that Skill, the only one in his core space that held a tiny little world within it. The patterns parted to reveal a curving landscape of green forests, fields, and distant craggy mountains near a familiar sea. Centered within it all was a squat fortress of dark stone. His Bastion.
He landed there, atop the sole tower, and assessed the area.
A silver needle extended beside him, reaching up and stabbing into the sky. Ephemeral, multi-hued strands of light passed through that needle, coming from all directions like a spiderweb. It was his Oathbinding rendered into a semi-real form; a manifestation of the connections that Felix had established and continued to grow. A quick glance told him this one belonged to the Frost Giants, and this one belonged to the Nagafolk, the both of them thick and potent. The connections sang in a muted, sub-audible sort of way, humming at the edges of his senses. Felix ignored them for now.
The tower beneath his feet was the binding point for the Skills that had glommed onto his Bastion. With a minor flex of Will, he rose into the air and descended down to the inner bailey, rotating all the while around the full circumference of his tower. The structure was not round, but faceted with five flat planes. Three of the sides were marked with the pattern of another Skill: Relentless Resolution, Deep Mind, and Meditation. Oathbinding was the exception, having had manifested up above for some reason.
Why, though?
Felix alighted on the thick grass of his inner bailey and stared at the tower. The patterns glimmered with light, and if he focused too long he could hear their unique vibrations. They were both here and outside in his core space, at the same time.
"Karys, you awake?" he asked the sword at his hip.
Surprisingly, the blade flared with more green-gold light than Felix had ever seen it handle. With a near-blinding flash, a shape was manifested next to him.
"This is...quite unexpected," said the shape. It had resolved into the form of an elderly but vital looking man with dark skin and tightly curled hair dusted with grey. A smile stretched his mouth. "Delightfully unexpected."
"Karys?" Felix asked. He'd seen the former Nym once in a stolen Memory, but he'd looked a good deal more frail then. "Are you being projected here through the sword?"
"It would seem so, Felix. Your Bastion...it is quite remarkable." Karys stretched his arms and patted his torso and legs, all of which was covered by a sort of black and gold uniform. A military one, judging by the sharp cut of it, though of an unfamiliar style. "This...this is wonderful."
Felix grinned. "Well, it was unexpected, but I'm glad you like it."
"I truly do. To experience my original Body again...it is a pleasure I had thought lost to me," Karys said, turning his closed eyes up toward the bright sun above them. The man's Spirit trembled, though Felix felt it through the sword at his waist. "Yes. I had missed this."
He sighed after a long moment, and turned back to Felix. "But you did not call on me so I could take a vacation. How might I help?"
Felix scratched the back of his neck. "Well now I feel bad. If you want to just wander around or something, you're more than welcome to. Anytime you want, really, if you're able to come here without me."
"That would be wonderful, Felix. Thank you." Karys' smile was infections, and the sword buzzed with barely suppressed joy. "But I do wish to help."
Felix smiled and slapped the man on the back. He felt like a solid wall of muscle. "Excellent."
Comments
Nicoli Gonnella (Necariin)
I never change the font. It's showing as too small?
Faith_incandesent
Please fix the font size, makes it a bit more difficult to read
