Unbound

Zara stepped carefully, keeping her boots from the fetid water. The underbelly of Ahkestria was as ruinous as she had heard. Potholes studded the pathways, sewage filled broken gutters, and the dwellings turned from well-appointed, if modest homes to ramshackle huts. The people were dressed in serviceable clothes, sturdy tunics and breeches hemmed at mid-calf, but they were caked with soot, dust, and dirt. All of it evidence of their primary occupation: mining Mana crystals.

Men and women, mostly non-Human—and a surprising amount of Yttin—walked with heavy gaits and morose expressions. Little light made its way down into these bottom layers, so torches were set up at regular intervals. Soot and greasy smoke congealed in corners and ceilings, while ragged cloth coverings were used in place of wooden shutters on the dwellings. Not even Haarwatch's Dust Quarter had been so destitute or ill-kept, and for good reason. A great majority of Haarwatch's industry was powered by the laborers in the Dust Quarter, and not even the Guild was stupid enough to discount that.

Here, stupidity abounds, she thought. These people were the engine that drove Ahkestria's industry, providing the raw materials for all their vaunted crafting. Without the crystalline dust and larger chunks, the city's economic heart would fall to ruin. She spotted a line of folk carefully apportioning water from a dusty well that had clearly seen better times.

Running water for the nobility, and this for the people? A part of her raged at the conditions, at the memory of other places, other times. It was hard to live as long as she had, to have seen so much suffering in so many nations. Surviving all of that left its mark on you, she found, which had required Zara to develop a control over her emotions like few others. As much as she would give to vent her spleen, now was not the time. She pulled her hood tighter over her face and kept walking.

The number of tails she had to shake just to escape their warded estate was impressive—less so their Skills, but Zara was a Master for a reason. She had left all of them chasing shadows across the Risen Ward. Now she had descended quite far in her search, and poor conditions aside, the amount of armed and armored soldiers in the slums was telling. There was little chance of them rising up against the upper layers, but it was clear that someone was worried they might make the attempt. There was a palpable tension between the soldiers and common folk, and the latter gave the former a wide berth wherever they were found. The soldiers were like stones in a river, even when moving; the crowd flowed around them without even coming close.

It is good Felix was not able to come with me. His compassion is laudable, but the boy has little control over his desires. A Yttin stumbled nearby and splashed into one of the deeper and more foul puddles. The soldiers only laughed. Zara flared her nostrils but kept walking. He needs to learn when it is appropriate to exert your Will. And when to bide your time.

Zara sighed and turned a corner, heading down a sloping ramp alongside a clutch of cowering Yttins. They chittered at each other through their bandages, but kept their eyes away from her own. Fear quivered their Spirits like a parasite, an infectious cough with its hand around their throats. The path extended a ways through the open-air layers, the Lower Wards as they were called, too numerous to be named anything unique. She was growing more and more frustrated as she traveled, however. There had been no sign of Isla on any of the layers before this one. Zara's only hope was to keep descending.

Felix and crew will likely meet the council soon, she mused as she crossed over a crumbling bridge. The drop was considerable and there were no guardrails, so the Yttin and Goblins with her crossed with mincing steps. Vess can handle the politics, so long as Evie doesn't interfere.

Zara hummed to herself, keeping it quiet. Evie had been much more contemplative since she had advanced her core. She was unlikely to cause trouble in the short term. No. it's Felix I'm worried about. He needs to handle his approach of the Council delicately.

She had wanted to be there, but finding the Unbound Minotaur quietly took priority. The threat of the Paladins still loomed large, though Zara was put a bit at ease upon seeing the effectiveness of the city's defenses. It was a foolhardy few that would brave the cutting winds of Ahkestria's private sandstorm. The true, immediate danger was making their case to the Council of Masters, buying themselves time to get what they needed. She had spoken with Vess and Harn; they knew to focus on goodwill and discussions of trade.

A swell of a mournful dirge caught her ears as she walked past a dilapidated tenement. Zara slowed to a stop, boots grinding on the dirt and stone chips. She peered into the darkness of its side alley, only to hear the sound once more. With carefully measured steps, Zara stepped into the shadows...and found a Mark upon the wall. A very familiar one.

Isla. Finally. The dirge faded as soon as the Mark was found, and another slow song pulled her deeper into the warren of passageways.

A trail of breadcrumbs attuned to our Order. Why? She couldn't have been expecting company so soon. Zara stepped off a ledge and dropped fifty feet onto a narrow outcropping. The second Mark was there, etched into the pitted stone. It flared in her ears, then faded from existence. The next came into being, and it was far below, through chasms torn in Ahkestria's base.

She must be buried deep in these slums. To escape the attention of the Urge? Or some other reason?

Zara was eager to find out.

"Envision your core space, but do not delve into it. Not yet. The first technique requires you to split your focus, between the real and the visualized," Vess explained. Her voice was soft and melodic, yet it threatened to topple him. "Claim that focus."

Felix teetered, his Mind balancing precariously on the edge as she requested. It was unreasonably difficult in Felix's opinion. He had expected to grasp this training technique immediately...though he was glad that he'd never declared anything of the sort. This strange balance was only the first step to honing his core space, and he'd only just managed it.

"I do not have the Sounding Skill, Felix, so I cannot tell if you are primed properly," Vess said. She was very close. He could feel the heat of her body, just as he could feel the chaotic hum of music within his darkened core space. "Tell me: are you balanced?"

"Y-yeah," he said. He could smell a faint floral soap from her, undercut by the gurgling growl of the abyss within his cores. "I got it."

"Perfect. That is far faster than I managed it," she said with a breath of pleased surprise. "Concentrating was very difficult when I was six years old."

Felix huffed a surprised, rueful grunt. His pride collapsed, but he let it bleed out. He didn't need it anyway. "Why...do I...have to do this?"

"Hold it for at least a quarter glass. Sharpen your focus. That is the first goal. After that, I can tell you more."

Felix managed to last all of five minutes before the front door crashed open, shattering his concentration and admitting a blast of furnace winds. "God damn it, why'd we do this in the foyer—" he paused as his senses registered the form of Fiammetta and her thirty-some Knights arrayed behind her. "Ah. Is it time?"

"I apologize for the intrusion, Representative Veil, but yes. It is." The Faun looked between him and Vess. "Did I interrupt something?"

Felix glanced at Vess, only to blink in surprise. They were...very close. Felix was wearing his Garment, which he'd changed into a loose cotton shirt and pants, both a slate gray. Vess was likewise wearing a breezy sort of blouse with an open collar and some sort of layered skirt. He spotted sweat beading on her neck before turning his gaze. Has she been wearing that this whole time?

"Simply training," Vess said to the Faun. "Normally one would knock before entering another's residence. Is standard civility not taught in your Temple?"

Fiammetta's sly smile tightened into an almost-grimace. "I apologize again. I did not expect to...inconvenience you both."

"No inconvenience." Vess adjusted her blouse ever so slightly. "Armor gets quite uncomfortable after a while," Vess said, and her smile was sharp as a wolf's.

"I can imagine," the deer lady said. She looked slowly between Felix and Vess. "I advise you to look more...presentable before the Council."

Felix frowned and made to stand up, but Vess' hand on his forearm pulled him short. He looked down, then back up at her, only to find her eyes still fixed on Fiammetta. "We will be ready in a short moment. Please, avail yourself of the refreshments in the parlor."

With a sharp nod, Fiammetta led her Knights into one of the side rooms, where indeed there were refreshments laid out by the servants. Servants that Felix had yet to spot even once.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Vess simply stood. "I will find Evie and don my armor. Please let everyone else know it is time."

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Felix said. He felt like he was missing something in that interchange, but shifted gears. "I'll get everyone ready."

In a few short minutes, the lot of them were striding out of the manor's gates. Felix (with Pit nestled in his Spirit), Evie, Vess, Atar, and Alister walked within a cordon of Knights down the wide boulevard as the sun began to set.

"I don't like leavin' Harn behind," Evie complained again.

"He'll be fine," Alister assured her. "Besides, someone needs to watch over the Legion."

"Darius is there too, and he is well on the mend," Vess said. "I would not worry about those we left behind, Evie."

"Oh, it ain't them I'm worried about," she muttered.

Fiammetta led their little entourage, and they kept a brisk pace across the Risen Ward. People were out and about this time, as the sun's fading light created a much more hospitable atmosphere. Men and women, all Human, walked past them wearing robes and dresses and talking in light, cheerful voices. Laughter danced from one of many eating establishments, where glowing lights and the clink of glasses and dinnerware drifted on the breeze. To the east, stars glimmered in the approaching dark, and the west was a blaze of blood-red light that soaked the district in tinted shadows.

It was, in short, beautiful.

More of those crystalline formations dotted the streets, their orange glows growing more pronounced as the day fled. It was weird for Felix, as whenever they passed too close he heard a sharp ringing in his metaphysical ears. The potency of the Mana crystals was intense, far more so than the weakened crystals on display in the Farwalker's hut—or even the ones the Archon had used against him. Felix gathered that their compression and hardness was an indicator of just how much Mana was packed into them. And Atar said that people couldn't even scratch the things, which is why they're still standing instead of being long-since picked apart.

The buildings continued on as he had first seen them; beautifully shaped and structured, glittering with inclusions of Mana crystals and carvings to accentuate their wavy, organic shapes. More than a few manors and public buildings were rounded and oddly malformed, firming Felix's notion that it was an artistic choice. Heat and flame was given a lot of weight in Ahkestria, that was clear. Perhaps back on Earth such architecture couldn't exist, but there was no doubt some Skill at work to make the buildings functional despite their eccentric shapes.

"Ah, Atar, it is nice to have you back in the city," Fiammetta said after a while.

Felix could feel the fire mage's surprise ripple across his Spirit. "Nice? When last we met you cursed—what was it? 'Every demon get from my loins?'"

The Faun blushed and waved her hands. "That was—well, I was not very gracious was I? But then, neither were you. Refusing to speak on why you were leaving! Did you know your master refused to take on any further apprentices? Not one, since you've been gone."

"Really?" Atar looked a touch nervous. "Well, opportunity knocked, offering me knowledge I desired. I greatly appreciate the Grandmaster's guidance, but he has always viewed sigaldry as a crutch of the weak and mentally infirm. Magic to him is power to be conquered...not a mystery to be investigated."

Alister's hand found Atar's and squeezed.

"Sigaldry. I see. I joined the Temple shortly after you left, having few options. But the Matrons have been kind and my training extensive." The Faun puffed out her chest in her robes and golden breastplate. "I am the youngest Disciple in the last half century."

"Congratulations," Atar said. It even sounded like he meant it.

Felix patted the fire mage on the back. "Atar is modest. He is quite accomplished on his own as well, in research and the battlefield."

"Truly?" Fiammetta asked. "I saw you all fight against those undead. The Temple often sends its Knights and Disciples into the lowlands for training, but we've never faced so many before." She shuddered. "A nightmare in the flesh."

"I imagine your heat magic would do well against them," Atar said.

"Perhaps." She tilted her head, as if considering the mage for the first time. "You are much nicer now, you know."

"And you aren't half as annoying anymore," he shot back. Then in a kinder tone, said, "And authority looks good on you."

Fiammetta didn't say anything to that, but her freckled nose blushed. On a hunch, he flared his Affinity. Aside from the incessant, piercing hum of the various Mana crystals, he could sense threads tightening between Atar and their guide. He had remained suspicious of the woman's intentions and allegiances, if only because he had to be, but the link between her and his friend was encouraging. I can't argue against an another ally, he thought. We need all we can get.

Zara still hadn't returned, but Felix tried not to let that bother him. He was more than capable of operating without a babysitter. Yet they were walking into the den of several Master Tier individuals. Felix couldn't deny the comfort of having a Master Tier on their side. He didn't expect this meeting to go bad, but he'd been wrong before.

When they reached the Council building, it defied the standard set by all the others. It was a domed rotunda, relatively squat and fitted with many thin pillars around its exterior. The copper dome gleamed in the setting sun, while the grounds around it and the stone-lined pathway leading to its doors was drenched in wall-cast shadows, deep and purple. Sconces of crystals were set into the sides of the path and again by the huge, double doors, though there the crystals were half again as large and thrumming with power.

Felix suppressed a wince as they drew closer. It was like standing too close to a speaker at a concert. Fiammetta began talking, but part of him only heard the ceaseless waves of sound.

"We shall enter the Council chambers together, Representative Veil," she said. Felix closed off his Affinity and focused on her words. "My men will wait out here. If you would follow me?"

"Lead on," he said.

The door opened slowly and ominously, admitting them all into a half-moon shaped antechamber that contained two curving staircases on either side and a somewhat smaller door going further inward.

"What's up there?" Evie asked.

"Balcony seating," Atar said. "Council gatherings can draw a crowd sometimes."

Felix frowned at the movement he sensed up those stairs, but Fiammetta marched them onward through the next set of doors and into a vast, vaulted chamber. It reminded him of a small stadium, with tiered seating all around them leading down to a lowered area at the center. There the ground was open for a sizable portion of polished stone, while beyond that were a series of five raised benches made of dark, pitted stone. Chairs made of glowing Mana crystal were mounted behind them, and contained three men and two women, all Human, that were conversing animatedly among one another.

They walked down the carpeted steps slowly. Felix spotted a dome of sigiladry covered the councillors' benches and central area. It appeared complex but after a moment Felix had its measure: it was a muffling array, which explained why he could hear anything from the seated Masters. He nodded at it.

"Why does it feel like we're on trial?" Felix asked. "Will the Masters not meet us face to face?"

Fiammetta frowned, but not at him. "The Council has spent much of today considering proposals from the patricians and merchants, I have been told. This is the soonest we could fit you in to see them."

"I had wondered why we'd been kept waiting," Atar said. "Not meeting in an audience is...not ideal, but this should serve our purposes."

They breached the line of sigaldry, and active Mana crawled across Felix's body like stepping through a thin sheet of water. Something about it snagged at Felix for a second—a brief heat—but it faded quickly as he shrugged it off. Humming filled the inscribed bubble, which Felix attributed to the opulent crystal chairs, but otherwise their approach was as silent as the grave. Fiammetta led them onto the wide, open area and motioned them to half.

"Who comes before us?" a woman with silver hair and unlined face demanded. It had the sound of ritual to it.

The Faun took a single step and raised her chin. "Disciple Fiametta of the Temple of All Burning Flame."

"Why do you seek the Council of Masters?" asked another, a portly man with a spade-like beard and a bored expression.

"I bring before you those that seek wisdom and guidance," Fiammetta intoned. "Representative Silas Veil, of the newly established Territory of Nagast."

Two of the Masters exchanged a short glance, but otherwise they all simply stared. Felix tried to feel at their Spirits, but each one was a brick wall to his senses. Not to mention that the entire building was awash in vibrations. The Mana crystals, the sigils, even the wards woven into the benches and floor that Felix could only barely perceive. Protective measures, no doubt. All of it was a lot to parse, even for Felix's impressive senses.

"Good evening, Councillors. Masters," Felix said, reciting the greeting Vess had made him memorize. "We are here as a representative arm of Nagast to the north. I had assumed we would be meeting in a more informal setting, but we are nevertheless here to establish relations between our Territories."

One of the Masters, another man with reddish-brown skin perked up. "Do you speak of trade, Mr. Veil?"

"Trade is one of our goals, yes. In fact—" Felix tried to go on, but Atar of all people pushed forward.

"Paladins seek to destroy Ahkestria!" he said. Atar's eyes widened, and he looked at the others in shocked dread.

Atar? What the hell dude?

Silence followed Atar's outburst. A man at the center watched them over steepled fingers, and the force of his regard was a physical weight. He had an entirely bald head, skin the color of basalt, and sharp-lined tattoos covering the little flesh exposed by his off-white robes. The Grandmaster, Felix knew. He could feel it as the mage leaned forward on his crystalline throne.

"Explain."

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