Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 11:00:05 +0000 UTCPetor returned to the forge to find several men and women assisting Valter and his armors—now all of the armor had been upgraded to Othir. They stood at the same stature as Valter, glinting with an ethereal sheen.
They were starting to wind down and clear up the last of gear.
He'd spent the day checking on the growing shipyard and the first few ships, then a quick tour of the farms to assess the plants and give the farmers insights into speeding up their growth and production.
Valter spotted him and waved him over to a mannequin with Petor's armor on it. Petor nodded his thanks and approached, examining the piece. He resonated with it, feeling the familiar hum of his mana flowing effortlessly through the material. Valter had attuned it to his mana and modified the enchantments, making them much stronger than before.
Petor took it off the mannequin and donned it with quick efficient movements.
"How does it feel?" Valter asked without looking up from his work.
"Heavier than the Dimantium—not in a way that it would impede me, makes it feel solid. I can feel a passive increase of mana flowing to me," Petor replied, testing his range of movement. "You've outdone yourself. I though that the Dimantium armor was incredible. This—its something you'd see in the halls of heroes."
Valter frowned, his gaze moving away. "We're going to need every advantage we can get."
"What are we walking into?" Petor asked.
Valter paused, wiping sweat from his brow before turning to Petor. "The weapons and armor of the Veldian Empire," he sighed gathering his thoughts, "came from the Sacrophytes. They believed more in the power of enchantments and metal than in the power of the fragile body."
Petor adjusted his armor, feeling the smoothness of Othir beneath his fingertips. "So, they created armor that linked to one's mana channels and body?" he asked.
Valter nodded. "Yes. It used your own mana as a power source for both armor and weapons. This made them stronger than someone of the same strength—but at a cost."
"What kind of cost?" Petor asked, curiosity piqued.
"It harmed the user. Used your body and soul as fuel," Valter said flatly. "It didn't matter much to us though—those who fought for the God Emperor and died in his name were promised the greatest rewards."
"So dying for your god was best?" Petor's voice carried a hint of incredulity.
"If you died in battle you were rewarded," Valter explained, setting down his hammer. "If you were foolish in your actions, you lost merit. The stronger you became before you died, the greater your rewards in the afterlife."
"An army unafraid of death," Petor grimaced.
"And willing to take every advantage," Valter continued, "burning their soul up in this life for a promise." He picked up a newly forged gauntlet and examined it critically. "The Veldian Empire was made up of soldiers, then the Immortalias Aspirant—or retainers—and then the God Emperor's Champions or Sarcophagi Immortalias. The soldiers that showed promise rose through the ranks—some were offered the holy duty of becoming Immortalias Aspirants, those that would take care of the needs of the Sarcophagi Immortalias."
Petor watched as Valter adjusted some runes on another piece of armor. "If one was injured they'd be healed and sent back into battle," Valter said. "If the damage to their soul was too much, based on their merits they might get limbs from the Sacrophytes to enhance their combat capabilities."
"Why would the damage to their soul matter?"
"You hurt the soul too much—your core. Then you stop being able to heal parts of yourself. Near as I could figure out your core has a blueprint of your body. If you burn away your soul, then even with all the healing potions you won't be able to heal your body. The Sarcophagi Immortalias solved this problem."
"How? If you don't have a body," Petor trailed off glancing at the armor.
"Your soul would be held within the armor—your body would fall apart, but you would continue on, a soul within the armor. Immortal, as long as you had the parts and the bindings that held your soul weren't shattered," Valter said. "Though if the bindings holding your soul are broken what remains of you will die and be welcomed into Akadia the god emperor's celestial realm."
"You were a Sarcophagi Immortalias?" Petor asked.
"Correct," Valter grimaced as he looked away from Petor for a moment. "There were nearly a thousand of us, tens of thousands that had Sacrophytes' weapons melded to our bodies—an army of a million fighters. It has been a few years since the war ended. That knowledge is far from lost."
"So a population that's highly trained and fighting capable," Petor said.
"That's the short version of it," Valter said.
"Mister Valter, could you have a look at this?" One of the Mardun helping in the forge asked.
"I'll track down Desari," Petor said, stepping back from the forge. "Know where she is?"
"Inside the Warehouse, her and Mya both. Got Mardun Alchemists and Tailors helping out," Valter said.
"Thanks," Petor replied, and headed towards the warehouse's entrance.
Valter moved to where one of the Mardun smiths was struggling with an intricate piece of armor. The young smith had a look of frustration etched across his face, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
Valter leaned over, examining the piece critically. "What seems to be the problem?"
The smith looked up, a mix of relief and embarrassment flashing in his eyes. "It's this enchantment, sir. It's not binding properly. I’ve tried reworking the runes, but they keep rejecting my mana."
Valter took the piece in his hands, feeling its weight and inspecting the runes closely. "Ah, I see what’s going on here," he murmured. "The alignment is off by a fraction. These runes need to be more precise than what you're used to."
He picked up a fine engraving tool and began adjusting the runes with deft precision. "You have to be patient with Othir," Valter explained as he worked.
The smith watched intently, nodding along with Valter's words.
Petor moved inside the warehouse, finding Desari surrounded by alchemists working under her precise instructions. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and potions bubbling in various alchemical instruments. Shelves had been rebuilt at hip height to be used as a workspace. She spotted him immediately and grabbed a bandolier of vials.
"Catch!"
Petor caught it, looking at the swirling potions.
"I had to make them more potent. We became stronger and the potions need to be stronger too to help us." Desari said, turning to check on her work once again. She held up a small vial filled with a shimmering Yellow and purple liquid, "is what I call the panacea—a potion that will moderately increase stamina, mana, and health regeneration."
"Impressive," Petor said, spotting three of them in the bandolier. "The others are stamina, health, and mana?" He checked them.
"You got it." Desari said.
The potions were thicker than they had been before.
"Can feel the mana coming off of them."
"Don't leech it unless you want weaker potions!" Desari warned, picking up a vial and inspecting the contents her focus unbroken. Around her alchemists cleaned up the gear they had been working on, finishing up.
Petor stored the bandolier away and looked at the other side of the warehouse where Mya was sewing while talking to Lianne over a map. Joreck had a set of pencils, rulers of different shapes and compasses that he was using upon the table.
Petor walked over to Mya and her people, who were deep in discussion about trade routes throughout the water plane. Mya was holding court over a map spread out on a table when she noticed Petor approaching.
She tied off the thread she was using, then bit it before checking the gambeson and throwing it over.
"There's a warm eddy running from Coral Bastion to Irshon, can use that to speed us along," Lianne said.
"I heard rumors of a group that fish in this region here they'll have plenty of food and bone that you can trade with them for. Take that back to Irshon, bone and materials go for a premium there and they're always looking for meat to supplement their diet," Mya said.
Petor checked his gambeson. The fabric felt sturdy yet flexible under his touch; she had repaired the damage and upgraded it as well.
"Good as new," Mya said with a wink.
"Thanks," Petor undid his armor, thankfully he hadn't done it up all the way, putting it on a shelf as tailor stacked up spare clothes to the side. Mya wore her updated vest, jacket, pants and hat. Desari's set hung from a shelf.
"Well that should get us started," Joreck said, making a last marking on the map before he looked up, the tailors talking amongst themselves as they headed out.
"One main route, three secondary routes, with several other regions to check out," Mya said. "Not bad start at all."
Petor got the gambeson on, feeling the temperature cool slightly.
The crafters finished their work, packing up tools and materials with practiced efficiency. Valter walked into the warehouse, missing the armor that wrappedd around his upper body.
Mya threw another larger gambeson to him.
"Thank you."
"Same enchantments as before, upgraded everything though," Mya said.
Desari stored away the last of her alchemical gear and walked over to her gear, magical darkness covered her and her new gear, parting to show her wearing the new gear.
Valter secured his gambeson closed, his armor swirled around him, the gleaming Othir plates settling into place with a satisfying click.
Desari carefully stored her alchemical creations, each vial finding its home in custom-fitted slots within her bandolier.
Petor pulled on his head wrap as Mya donned her freshly sewn gambeson and layered it with her armor, the repairs and upgrades evident in the subtle glint of reinforced seams and enhanced enchantments.
Petor checked his sling, pouch and switched out potions to the stronger version Desari had created.
They checked one another's gear, pulling on straps and jumping to check the fit.
As they completed their preparations, the door swung open, and Draden strode in. He was flanked by a group of Mardun, their expressions a mix of determination and solemnity. Each carried an item or token meant for the horsemen.
Draden stepped forward first, holding out a beautifully carved wooden box. "For you," he said to Petor. "Inside are seeds from the rarest plants we've cultivated—each with unique properties that may prove useful."
Petor accepted the box with a nod of gratitude. "Thank you, Draden."
Next came Tilla, who approached Desari with a small pouch filled with finely ground powders. "Elemental catalysts," she explained. "For your spells—they should enhance their potency."
Desari took the pouch, a small smile playing on her lips. "These will be invaluable."
Lianne handed Valter a compact device made of gleaming metal and intricate runes. "A mana converter," she said. "It will help stabilize your energy flow during combat."
Valter examined the device before securing it to his belt. "Thank you."
Finally, Joreck presented Mya with a dagger that sent shivers up Petor's spine. "For close encounters," he said simply.
Mya took the dagger, twirling it expertly before sheathing it at her side. "Much appreciated."
With their gifts exchanged, Draden spoke for them all. "We wish you well on your mission," he said solemnly. "May these items aid you in your fight. Know that you always have an ally in the Mardun."
"We'll be seeing you," Mya winked. "Desari?"
Desari pulled out a card Valter had received from Limos' information packet, its edges glowing faintly with arcane energy.
"Ready?" she asked, pulling out the planar gem with the other hand.
They gathered around her, drawing their weapons. Mya with revolver and sword, Valter with sword and shield. Petor with his spear.
"Teleporting to Valter's world first," Desari reminded them. "From there to Valter's home city Krado."
With a final nod from everyone, the card broke apart into motes of light—sinking into the planar gem.
