Brent Stinebaker
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V-5 Capital
🕑 Added 2025-10-08 13:15:14 +0000 UTCFaith is a thing of grave importance, acolytes. Faith allows us to maintain security in our great cities. Ask yourself, what do we have that most other nations don't? Why don't we suffer the indignities of constant brutality and the miseries of meaningless mass death?
Practical faith—with emphasis on the practical.
When we call out to the Ascendants, they are listening, and they are not so far away, not like so many gods who are inscrutable and wayward. Our gods, they look through us. Our gods protect us. And our gods will use their powers to secure this Republic, this collective home of ours, if we will but act as vessels in surveillance and enforcement.
Faith! Faith is a skill that serves as portal to the Ascendants. And it is from this portal and fueled by this faith that the Ascendants can reach out through us, to deliver judgment on anyone who dares stand astray from the republic. Faith, practical faith, it is what guards us.
So keep the fire inside of you strong and keep your eyes open. So long as faith endures, so too will peace, and thus prosperity follows.
-First Duty of the Faithful — Inquisitorial initiation course
V-5
Capital
As the Educator's power seeped out from within Solzimort, the distant darkness faded, growing from an impenetrable black to merely being a translucent veil of mist. Shiv tasted the divination and empowering spell she wove. A dizzying array of shapes began dancing and twisting upon the surface of Solzimort, and that power lent itself to everyone within the Hydra as well.
The first thing that came to light was the soil beneath their feet, soil that Shiv hadn't paid any attention to. It ran under them like currents of ash, but it was bright and rich with nutrition. He could practically taste the vitality radiating from it, ruby red and gleeful in intensity.
The Yellowstone Supervolcano rumbled behind them, and waves of heat radiated forth, leaving faint distortions upon the air. The ceaseless rumble of combat continued, but ahead the horizon was clear. They crossed the mess of trench lines fused in the side of the mountain and slipped beyond the hovering stages forged from mithril and the countless Prismatic Guard that spawned from them. Now, the path before them loomed with uncertain promise.
A sea of clouds drifted nearby, splashing against the sloping face of a mountain. They seemed as if the surface of a lake reflecting the sheen of a clear sky. It was then that Shiv realized how high up they were, how grand and tall the supervolcano was, and far below, from end to end, stretching on beyond the bend of the horizon, was the capital of the Yellowstone Republic.
The mithril spires he saw in the distance were connected to the massive castle crowning the apex of the supervolcano. Streams of magma bound the varied peaks that dotted the capital, but below, stripped bare of shadows, was a glorious city forged of brass, silver, and mithril.
Shiv had described Blackedge as quaint and rustic in certain ways. Its architecture was mostly transplanted from a village upon the outer edges of the town. The military installations built upon Blackedge were designed with practicality in mind. They were brutalist structures, made to endure, made to serve as soldiers of war, rather than for any manner of comfort. But ultimately, Blackedge had disarmed, as per the conditions of the treaty, and what followed was something deceptively meager.
As such, Blackedge couldn't be compared to the capital. It barely looked like a place spawned from the same civilization. The first words you would use to describe the capital were vast, grand, and made for walking. The exterior of the houses here reminded him of a beetle's carapace. They were mostly brass, radiating a burnished gleam that was near reflective in terms of texture. Silvered filigree outlined the frames of windows and doors, and they continued crawling forth along the exterior of the building, serving as illustrative decor. Even from afar, he could see intricate art pieces depicted by the silver, depictions of people outlined in glimmering traces upon the sides of the buildings.
And then there was the mithril as well. The Republic was rich in that magical-conducting material. It ran from the tops of buildings, connecting each to each in rigging chains. Spell stuff circulated from point to point, and Shiv realized that the mithril supports within the prison had been built similarly. The capital was a network of magic, and using his Farsight, he followed the flow of the mana, watched as it circulated from large towers forged of mithril and guarded by hovering dimensionals.
And that was another thing: the dimensionals. The skies were full of them. But these weren't any kind of dimensional Shiv knew. They were armored, clad in dense adamantine, bearing spear tips imbued with fire, ice, or some other element, holding shields that were not of solid alloy but instead resembled a complex array of ever-shifting constellations. Within their helmets burned a single cyclopean eye, and they scoured the streets below with waves of Divination.
"The Watchers are out," Adam rasped. "And now there's a lot more than I can remember seeing before."
Shiv started counting the Watchers. Each tower seemed to have about four assigned to it. But then, with how wide the capital was and how many mithril towers stood in the distance, the Deathless felt a building sense of awe and apprehension grow within him. They had a few more minutes before the shadow shape infusing Solzimort wore out, but even if the Educator could hide them from the other ascendants, that didn't stop them from being physically observable.
They needed to find some place to hide, and that wouldn't be on the streets. Not a chance in all the hells.
As Solzimort started moving again, more of the city came into view. Compared to Weave, the Yellowstone Republic’s capital was much flatter and wider. Instead of climbing high, it was content to spread. The grand structures of Weave were bathed in the soft glow of night glass, and the people there were connected by bridges, traveling through the air by summoning demons. Here, the airspace belonged to the Prismatic Guard and the so-called Watchers. The chirps of birds were their only companion, and aside from that, the sky was clear, revealing a lush and endless blue.
Upon further observation, the buildings of the capital were often stacked together, connected horizontally before ending along the edge of a street. And the streets here were wide. What counted as a thoroughfare at Blackedge was a common road here. The center of these streets was lined with rolling tiles of polished stone, their color faint and gray, as if to not reflect so much light nor carry too much heat from the glare of the sun.
Flanking the streets were stretches of rich black soil, manicured shrubbery, and constantly blooming plants, erupting in petals of myriad colors, with the palette offering something for every eye to enjoy. Every few meters there seemed to be a grand pine, or some manner of pointed tree. He his eyes fell upon a few of those grand pillars and saw birds perched upon dense and muscular branches, yet some of the birds looked different from the others. Some seemed mechanical, their eyes glowing with an automaton's gleam, their wings things of reflective metal.
"Attention citizens, the crisis is still ongoing. The Prismatic Guard are enforcing safety, but as members of this great nation, we ask you to do your part. Shelter in place, prepare to defend your homes if you can, and as always, if you catch sight of someone or something behaving suspiciously, please inform your nearest inquisitor."
The telepathic broadcast crashed out from the mithral towers in spreading waves. It looked like translucent eddies dotting the surface of a lake. Even from afar, you could hear the notification repeating over and over again. Looking upon the streets once more, you would realize that there were people fleeing into every building, but some stayed. Some who wore grand arms and emitted powerful magical fields. Some dressed in the regalia of the Prismatic Guard, some who were obviously inquisitors, and some Pathbearers who just didn't seem to care.
Bursts of static blackness caught his attention then, and he looked down to see the doors of one of the mithral towers swing open. He caught sight of the building's inside and saw what looked to be pulsating spheres of Dimensionality.
"Jump towers," Adam told Shiv. "That's probably what you're looking at right now. They're shuttling the auxiliaries all across the city. Soon the streets will be packed with soldiers. The geomancers will be arriving first, followed by additional Jump Magi. They're going to be placing wards all over the buildings, making sure that the infrastructure suffers as little as possible should an actual battle take place."
"Why don't we have any of this cool shit at Blackedge?" Shiv commented to himself.
The Young Lord gave a bitter snort. "I asked my father that the first time I came back from the capital."
"What'd he say?" Shiv asked.
"He said that anything constituting an arms build-up would be damaging for relations between the surface and the abyss. That the monsters of the Abyss would be provoked by a growing force of arms. The crisis and dilemma of escalation, he called it."
"Yeah, turns out the Republic might be full of shit," Shiv said.
“Turned out that the actual agitators were coming from within,” Adam spat.
"So, uh, where should we go now?" Solzimort asked. The hydra sounded worried, and Shiv didn't blame him. The streets were being swept by beams of Divination. There were people everywhere, and wherever they spotted a threat, one of the mithral towers could simply deploy an emergency wave of troopers to contend with the matter.
"So what's stopping us from making a run for the border?" Shiv asked. "We're fast enough, we can clear the capital in no time at all. We don't need to stay here."
A moment of hesitation followed, and Shiv looked on to that. Before the Educator could say anything, his Psycho-Cartography called for him to bite down on her metaphorical neck and be aggressive. "So how powerful is that tome of yours anyway? I know that Harlock can't notice us right now, but there's gotta be a reason why you don't just go, 'yeah, let's leave,' if our goal is to escape."
A scoff of utter annoyance came from the Educator, and Shiv tasted the frustration radiating from her mind. "All power has limits, and all skills can be countered by another."
"Wait," Adam cut into the conversation. "An incandescence was leaking out from you earlier." A beat followed as the Gate Lord consolidated his thoughts, and when he came to a realization, he announced it with a laugh. "Your tome's emitting divine mana. Are you melding your divinity into Harlock's? Is that how you hide yourself? By using someone else's mana as a cloak?"
The Educator hesitated once more, but this time she let slip a gasp of utter disbelief, and now Shiv let out a bark of amused laughter. "Alright, so that's why we can't make a run for the border. The moment we break free of Harlock's darkness, he'll see us again, because there's nothing hiding where we are. Cute trick. Are you the one doing it, or is that mainly your tome?”
"Whatever the case," the Educator said, her voice thick with suppressed anger as she ignored both Shiv and Adam, "we need to move further into the capital. There is more than one way to escape the city, and powerful though my wayward gods might be, they are not nearly as omniscient and omnipotent as they wish they were."
"Same goes for you, I suppose," Shiv said, directing a final taunt her way.
"Hydra," the Educator snapped. She was effectively done speaking to Shiv and now dispatched orders directly to Solzimort. "Seek out the first of the Mithral towers, the one closest to us. I will direct you using other landmarks once we get there."
But Solzimort didn't move. Instead, he waited for Shiv or Adam to offer their own confirmation.
"So, what do you think?" Adam asked Shiv as the Deathless formed a telepathic link between them
"What do I think? I think that being full of shit and half-witted competence is practically a requirement if one wants to be an Ascendant these days."
"Seems to be the case, doesn't it?"
"So, go along with her?"
"Yeah. I want to see what else we can embarrass her with, and figure just what she has planned to get us out of this place. If it all goes to hell, we can break from her and go for the border ourselves. She doesn’t know about Radio, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Once more, they were in motion. Solzimort jetted toward the horizon as if a bolt of lightning cast through the air. Yet, though he moved fast, he made no noise, for he was a thing of shadow, as were all beings melded into his scales. Gone's speed made them agile beyond measure, and in a stretch of mere seconds they were in the city, slipping past another layer of wards, gliding by risen battlements and by dutiful watchers and Pathbearers alike.
They were in the thick of the city then, and the colors Shiv once beheld from a distance revealed themselves as Solzimort emerged along the thoroughfare. He crept close to the walls, using other shadows to hide himself, and between that and his speed, they went utterly unnoticed, even as the lockdown tightened around the city. As they drew close to the jump tower, he couldn't help but be enchanted by the surrounding sights.
Plants in bloom glistened as if they had a film of dew sculpted across every petal, along every branch. To call the view scenic was an injustice; things felt cinematic here. There was a dynamic artistry to everything in motion, and despite the horrors he experienced in the prison, the thoroughfares of the capital, at least on the surface, seemed like something found in the pages of an idyllic story.
Furthermore, Harlock’s darkness thinned in the city itself, and it left most of the streets unburdened by that crushing haze. It was left to the Watchers and guards to serve as observers here.
Once more the warning broadcast repeated itself, and this close, Shiv felt every Psychomantic message uttered cast forth hammering against the outer walls of his soul. Some of the utopianism died within him. Though the streets looked pretty, and the horticulture was well maintained, it was that pervasive sense of intrusion that reminded him where he was. The ascendants were watching. The Republic was always on guard, but its blades were pointed within and without, its soldiers meant to face adversaries coming from the outside while also delivering another brand of justice to those who knew too much within.
"Okay, I'm here," Solzimort declared. A grand square was situated just before the front gates of the jump tower. The soft pitter-patter of spring water served as an uncannily comforting ambiance alongside the incessant messages being broadcast. Gorgeous fountains served as the centerpiece of this place.
They were comprised of three rings, and the jets of water sprayed into the air were timed perfectly and painted something of a strange, hydromantic spell. Everything around the fountain was glistening bright, and the moisture in the air seemed to undulate, cleansing everyone nearby. A few Prismatic Guards walked down the street, and as they did, Shiv pointed his Farsight upon them and saw bits of grime and dirt scrubbed free from their bodies.
Farsight 72 > 73
"It gets rather humid and hot here during the summers," Adam commented, "and so some of the fountains have cleansing enchantments worked into them."
“How much investiture does it take?” Shiv asked. “Because this looks expensive to keep up.”
"The Republic is quite wealthy," Adam sighed. "How wealthy? I am not sure. Too much has been hidden from me. But from what I have gleaned—the prison and how large the capital truly is when gazed from the side of the volcano—I dare say that the Ascendants can more than afford this, even if it is just a mechanism of vanity."
"Alright, so where do I go next?" Solzimort asked. They were nested right beside one of the jump tower's doors, using another shadow to mask their own presence.
“We wait for a moment,” the Educator whispered. “Maiden’s hidden eyes were upon us a moment ago.”
“You’re talking about the mechanical birds in the air?” Adam asked. “Gods… I had to assemble a few of those in the Academy. Part of my engineering course. Are you telling me that I was making surveillance agents for the Ascendants this entire time?”
“What did you think they were, Lord Arrow?” The Educator laughed softly. “The Ascendants do very little without reason, and even less for the vanity of pleasure alone.” The alloyed birds fluttered past them. But still they didn’t move. “Wait. Just a few seconds longer now. They will do another pass. After that, we will have a window of about a minute to move once more. For now, patience.”
The hydra's form was massive, but the gates to the Jump Tower were grand, running ten meters high into the air. Their exterior was layered in intricate decorations of silver, and depicted a man in a triangular cap with a feather jutting out from the side, riding upon a mess of snakes. In his right arm was a grand lance, the kind a rider might use when jousting. A smirk adorned the man's face, and faint motes of incandescence leaked from the silver.
There "Ah, Longinus," the Educator commented. A snarl of disgust followed thereafter. "If there was an ever more unworthy Ascendant, I wouldn't know where to find one. I would spit upon thee if I could, Longius.” She hummed. “Now, Solzimort. Do you see the large fist looming over those houses to our left?
It took a while for Shiv to find what she was talking about. 200 meters away, he saw a row of three-story-tall buildings, each of them lined with brass on the outside, framed in silver, and ridden with mithril chains along their sides. They looked expensive, and from within came a heavy pressure, doubtless a Portomancy spelll at work. Perhaps something to expand the space within.
But that wasn't what the Educator was talking about. Sticking just above those houses was the tip of a massive fist. It was a column-shaped fist, with slats of metal put together. It was also a fist that Shiv had seen before, had been struck with before. It was a statue made in the image of Cripple's fist, and if he had to guess, it was around two hundred meters away, an imposing sight indeed.
"Okay," Solzimort said, "go to the big fist."
As they were off, it took less than a second for them to arrive. They slid around the corner of the jump tower and then dashed across the street as an observer passed by, finishing its divination sweep. As they arrived there, Shiv found himself in a different section of the city. Where the bulk of the houses near the supervolcano were static estates that seemed quaint but well maintained, there were clusters of buildings here, packed tight together, with many small-celled rooms lining the walls and countless windows dotting their sides, making them seem as if brass-carved beehives. More mechanical birds lingered from mithril chains connecting each of these cluster residences, and the streets below were packed tight with people.
Most of them weren't of the Prismatic Guard, yet all of them bore various assortments of arms and armor. They stood there, at the ready, staring in the distance, gazing upon the Yellowstone supervolcano and the castle hovering just over it. Nearby, a congregation of automata knelt before the massive fist occupying the intersection of two clashing thoroughfares.
Shiv guessed the automata were acolytes of Cripple, judging from their missing left arms and the way they casually flagellated themselves using whips that sprouted whiskers of razor wire. The backs of their chassis were marred with deep cuts, and a single priest stood above the others, pulling its right fist high in prayer.
"O strongest martyr of the Ascendants, martyr of the republic, heed us now, speak to us now. If there is a time of need, if you demand it, we will give our lives for home, for earth, for the Grand Program!"
"The Grand Program?" Shiv muttered to himself.
"It's what certain automata call the system," Adam said. "But it's relatively archaic. None of the models made in the last generation refer to it as such."
"And such a tragedy that is," the Educator commented. "The system is granted its power, but the system is blind. It was made by something like us, I suspect."
That made Shiv frown internally. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how human machines are becoming. Yes, the automata were made in our image, of course, but they weren't exactly like us. They didn't develop like us. They didn't have to build and sculpt their descendants specifically. They didn't decay along a fixed lifespan. No, that is a human thing, first and foremost, an organic thing. And for the automata to suffer this, that means that they are slowly being molded into something they're not. Not consciously, not spiritually, not even physically.
“The Legacy Empire deludes themselves into thinking they could deny the system its due, but if there is one thing I can agree with those anti-magi about, it is that we have lost much before the system's power. So much of us has been sheared away."
There was a note of genuine sorrow in the Educator's voice, and because of course there would be. She is a historian by the way she spoke about things, by what she records in her tome. She may lie to us, she may be in league with Udraal, but part of her still yearns for an indelible truth, something that isn't masked by propaganda or the elements of age. Ages past. Keep an eye out for artifacts or pieces from history. Wait, doesn’t Can Hu count as that? Shiv thought to himself.
Psycho-Cartography: Yes. Perhaps it's best that we have the penitent speak to her when we get a chance. But should we have to fight her, we have an angle to weaken her now. After all, she is less than a relic. She is forgotten. And she can be made into glass by Sticks and Stones because of it.
"Between the houses on our right, do you see it? The alleyway." The Educator words provoked the hydra to action.
Solzimort shifted subtly. The shadow constituting his hide returned beneath a cart. He was blended with the cart's shade, but a tip of his toe still stuck out, and that provoked one of the nearby Pathbearers to turn and narrow his eyes.
"Solzimort, hold," Adam hissed. The hydra went still. The Pathbearer stared at Solzimort's shadow for a few moments longer, and then looked up. A flag was flapping high above. It bore the Republic's emblem: twelve mithril spires planted atop the apex of a fissuring volcano.
The Pathbearer let out a breath. "Really need to stop knocking back all those jugs of absinthe."
As he turned away, Solzimort moved as Adam gave his confirmation of their safety. Solzimort cut between the two residential clusters that the Educator spoke of, and there, behind in the alley, they found a round staircase leading down. Sounds echoed up the stairs, and Shiv knew there were people far below. Yet, he couldn't quite see them and was beginning to get an apprehensive feeling about what he was looking at. "What are we, about to hide in someone’s basement now? What is this place?”
"Don't be absurd, boy. It's far more than just a basement, and there are grander secrets in the Republic. Routes and benefactors unknown to even the Ascendants.”
“Educator,” Adam said, his voice thin with exhaustion. “If we go down there, and I find a raven waiting for us, I’m going to beat you to death with the bastard’s helmet.”
“I do not deal with those I cannot control or do not understand,” the Educator replied with a breath of haughtiness. “New Albion will do all they can to seize you from me. This, I know. But by what means? I do not. There is no arrangement with me, for ignorance leaves me disarmed—and I refuse to be disarmed. Now. Hydra. Into the depths.”
Psycho-Cartography: Risk aversion. We can bluff her. Keep track of that.
Psycho-Cartography 90 > 91
Solzimort was large, but that mattered little when one could phase through matter. He glided through the stones and stairs, and upon reaching the bottom, Shiv saw the walls lined with barrels and taps. Glowing droplets of magically charged alcohol dripped from the brass liquor dispensers, and Shiv saw groups of goblins filling large mugs before returning to a stretch of tables.
There, at the far end of the room,+ was a massive sign post that said “No elves, human, bots, or dogs allowed.”
“Charming place,” Shiv said sardonically. “Was there an Ascendant of racism? Is that what we’re relying on to keep us from being discovered?”
“Not quite. But the Pathbearer we will have to use to smuggle you into the Prismatic Guard is known for having more than a few peculiarities.”
“What?” Adam said. “What do you mean smuggle us into the Prismatic Guard?”
“I mean that it is the only reliable way in and out of the city now. The Ascendants will see the capital locked and warded, and the only ones that will be allowed to flow freely will be their soldiers. The only ones with access to the Jump Towers going in and out of the city will be the guard. The solution, then, is quite simple, isn’t it?”
“I…” the Gate Lord struggled to find the words. “Are we about to meet some underground Biomancer?”
“Oh, no, dear boy. The flesh is not the only thing that needs to change. We need your skill statuses and very souls to be masked as well. That way, you will be able to come and go in the future—and it will be essential for us to secure that measure of freedom at the least. Now. Hydra. As you will.”
A moment passed. Solzimort did nothing.
“Hydra? Return to your original form.”
“Uhhh,” Solzimort mumbled. “Donno how.”
“He’s probably going to have to wait it out,” Shiv said. “Effect of the meal’s probably going to run for ten minutes. After that, he’ll go back to being normal. We’re going to have to wait.”
The Educator huffed. “Weaknesses, limitations, and counters. It applies to every—”
“Custiel!” A voice bellowed from up the stairs. Heavy footsteps came hammering down, and the Educator fell silent. “Custiel!” Came another ragged cry. The man’s words were slurred and furious, and when he came into view, Shiv felt his insides pinch as he saw a heavily-armored Pathbearer wearing the regalia of the Prismatic Guard.
“Well, Educator, I think we’re going to need a second place to go, because this one’s compromised.”
“Custiel! You bastard! Come out! It didn’t work. The enchantment didn’t work!” The rainbow-plated Pathbearer stomped into the goblin speakeasy, and most of them groaned and spat the ground as he approached.
“Hey, asshole,” a goblin holding a cigar between her pointed teeth said as she gestured at the sign. “You got an Illiteracy Skill or something?”
“No. I got a non-functional set of armor, and now the rest of the guard is looking for me. As fucking such, your boss owes me a stack of mithril.”
“Oh, does he, now?” What do you gonna do? Report him to the guard?” The other goblins in the room roared with laughter. But it quickly died down as the armored Pathbearer reached up. Hands went to daggers and shaped quick spells.
But rather than clutching the halberd and shield hanging from his back, the armored Pathbearer removed his helmet and tossed it aside. Shiv saw a smear of blood on the back of the helmet—along with bits of skull-tissue. It looked like the armored Pathbearer had used it to smash someone’s face in at some point. “Not the guard. But I can go the Dragon Brokers. And I can see your Neath protections revoked. So. You tell him to come out. You tell him to do the job right, or I need my mithril back.”
The Pathbearer’s eyes were wild and bloodshot hazel. He had a mess of stubble dotting his face and head, and it looked like he had grains of sand dotting his head. His cheekbones were high, and his chin was practically a square wedge. If Shiv tried to imagine a generic Vanguard, this would be the face that appeared in the depths of his mind. But while the Deathless took in the man’s features, Adam’s breath hitched, and he recognized the stranger immediately.
“Captain Irons?”
“Irons?” Shiv said. “Your old Tac-Strat instructor at the Academy?”
“Yes,” Adam breathed. “What in the hells is doing here?”
“A most excellent question,” the Educator said. “Unanticipated as well. Hydra. Shift to the corners. We observe.”
The twenty or so goblins scattered across the room shot each other looks. After all the bloodshed Shiv had gone through, he battle-hardened enough to tell how dangerous someone was at a glance. These goblins weren’t. They lacked armor, their mana fields were Low Adept at best, and their knifes didn’t look like combat-dedicated designs. More than that, they were scared. Shiv could read the fear in their body language and in the twitching movements of their eyes.
Comparatively, Irons was angry, but he didn’t regard the goblins as threats at all. “Bring him out. Don’t keep me waiting. I don’t want to hurt any of you, but the same rules that apply to me apply to you. I won’t kill you. I will take your hands. I will ruin your establishment. And you will live to lose this little patch of sanctuary. Neither of us want that. Just make this easy for all of us and bring him out. Please. The life of one of my students depends on it.”
Comments
Tom C
“Guess it was nothing” 🤣
Gwalmeich
That guard really had a "must have been the wind" moment.
Psychonaut_CEA
Thanks for the chapter, love reading these with my morning coffee
