Rain Harlow
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(Vol 2) Chapter 70: Who Lives and Who Dies
🕑 Added 2023-10-28 16:23:20 +0000 UTCDeep under the City of Heavenly Order, somewhere in the pitch blackness at the furthest bottom spaces, runes suddenly alit and awoke, then echoed to awaken various other elements.
One such awakening was more like an alert in the ancient brain of Thal — the Guardian Keeper of the Dormancidia of the Eternal One, the One True Sage, the Master of Life and Death, the Principal Advisor, His Honor… Well, no one knew his original name any longer, not even Thal.
Thal knew that His Honor was awakening, and felt no special fear. All was in order in the Dormancidia, he was confident. Only the disordered had need to fear His Honor. It had been a while since the last awakening — over three decades.
His Honor had become increasingly disinterested in events of the world and simply slept to concentrate and preserve energy. It wasn’t Thal’s business to ponder things much (though admittedly, he did a little bit), just to conduct his duties with diligence — keeping up the Dormancidia, especially in supervising less intelligent and advanced workers and guardians.
Thal’s system was to not let the dumb ones do much, and rely on the smarter and less deteriorated. It worked very well, to His Honor’s satisfaction. He hadn’t issued corrections in nearly a century.
Thal was never really far from the awakening chamber. He strolled over to a lift and operated the levitating artifact to descend to the bottom, passing the Ten Thousand Honored Dead in their preservation sarcophagi on the way. There were technically more, but only Ten Thousand at the bottom were in the original artifacts used as mana foci.
Not that the rest can complain. Hehe.
Such simple humor wasn’t something His Honor would appreciate, but as long as he didn’t pun too directly, such thoughts were tolerated on account of his excellence. He’d been a butler in his old life, and the vast majority of too-chaotic minds didn’t take to becoming a construct well, much less the capable and intelligent ones.
Being an elf made him preserve much better as well. If he did have to say so himself, he was quite a prize.
Ten thousand is such a nice, clean number. If some parasite entity were in charge, it would probably be something chaotic and stupid like seven thousand, seven hundred and seventy-seven. Disgusting. If you love seven, why not just do seven thousand? Much cleaner.
Thoughts were dispelled by his arrival in the chamber. It was of course circular, as it was the original bottom of the humble Sage’s Tower, as old as history itself. The equally original silver candelabra still hung from above, though the crude light had been unnecessary for aeons.
This was the only affectation, as everything else had been converted to the function of preserving the Eternal One through his magic and artifice. Pillars made of gold with diamond inset symbols of power, a floor of dark rainbow obsidian making a seven-stepped circular pyramid in the center, pulsing with energetic runes. All pure energy, white as bone.
At the center of the upraised platform of glittering, mana-saturated obsidian, the luminous preservation crystalis was melting out from and off of His Honor’s form to drain back down through opened slits, flowing much like mercury might, thick and heavy. The frame of some invisible spell was holding his body up, a mature man’s thin form but as white as bleached paper, hairless, and without blemish or wrinkle.
Small arcs of lightning shot around him, causing little jerks to awaken and stimulate muscles. When he first breathed in from out of his stasis, it was sudden, but not violent, and any liquid was long since driven down into the alcove below, which sealed itself. His breath was calm and meditative — peaceful — his eyes remaining closed.
His hands came up flat and upward as he allowed lightning to stimulate his palms and fingers. With that, it all seemed to vanish and he let himself stand upon the stone platform unsupported, with the subtlest shift of balance.
In a shower of threads winding around him out of some pocket space, he summoned his tattered brown robe to cover his flesh and folded his hands into them.
His eyes finally opened. Black as a sucking void but for two unbroken rings of energy in the center. One could never tell if they rotated slowly, or if they were still. The feeling was always both at the same time.
Seven control orbs like giant marbles of hidden depths descended, to Thal’s senses flowing through a forcefield he could just barely perceive, in order to enter His Honor’s space. Once they were at eye level and circled around him, they began spinning rapidly. Over perhaps a minute, His Honor’s eyes flickered and absorbed with preternatural speed their visual contours, and then they stopped and rose slightly.
His expression was contemplative — as usual. Thal did not disturb him, only waited. The last time this process had occurred, his master had simply contemplated like that, accessed the informational orbs from time to time, then went back to sleep after perhaps twelve hours, never speaking a word.
Not this time.
“Thal.” His voice was soft and unassuming, but clear. Saturated with certainty that no one would be stupid enough not to listen. It was much older than his appearance. It also was not with vocal cords but as a psychic broadcast from his mind. “Is information still reaching you down here?”
His eyes never moved from their contemplative focus. Looking Beyond.
Thal bowed his head to hide his surprise at his master speaking. Did something important wake him? “Yes, Your Honor. Some.”
“What are the noteworthy events you’ve heard?”
Thal blinked and considered it carefully before answering. “War. Zadkiel the Demon Emperor is waging an effective one on the Southern Shores. He controls the majority of it. We’re mobilizing. I’m not sure who will-”
“There is always a Demon King. Like background noise. I should thank him for cutting out the chaff. His iron sharpening the iron left in this pathetic nation. What else?”
“Pine Coast rebellions? Gelepaust is a warzone. We believe this to be instigated by Zadkiel at this point, to drain and commit resources away from his front. There are a few other minor incidents in the Borderlands which might be the same.”
The Eternal One’s head and eyes shifted down as he considered. Thal could feel him mentally working, accessing the control orbs which swirled and turned above. “What of the Southlands?”
“Geirkos continues to rebuild, as do the other mainland maritime communities. Traesh grows very slowly and implacably more powerful year after year, despite our efforts. Redberry is still worshiped, though she continues to diminish.”
The master physically sniffed in derision. “I told him he wasn’t ready. And she still lives, over a century later. She’ll live past the point he could’ve simply taken to perfect the art on lesser entities while gaining another level and then handling her easily. Seeded her to her annihilation over decades. Instead, he’s dead and gone, having thought himself unkillable to his foes, and she clings to this world like a weed.”
“He was indeed ambitious, Your Honor. A waste, truly, as one of the most promising.” It’s nice to see His Honor so lively…
The One True Sage’s eyes finally came to rest on Thal. It was blasphemous to think him or anyone else a god, but Thal could not help the feeling of being an ant before a vast and insurmountable titan. A conqueror, a visionary. The greatest sapient ever. There was always awe to feel that incredible mind focus on him.
“Irrelevant in the end,” the master said, so softly it was like a breeze through the air. “What of mirror entities, Thal? Anything at all?”
Thal considered… then shook his head. “Nothing but the remnant rumors of the old horrors.” A horror he knew the master had destroyed himself personally. Before Thal’s time, of course.
His Honor’s eyes shifted away and down, and he paused like that for many minutes, his mind even withdrawing for the most part. The deepest inner thoughts.
Inevitably the master spoke again, though. “Prepare for my soft reintegration. The current Principal Advisor to the Sages is old, cognitively unsound, and a complete liability that should not have been tolerated. See to his death. Whoever his successor is, I’ll inhabit. Have it all in order within 48 hours. I must meditate.”
With open satisfaction, Thal bowed and said, “Your will shall prevail, Honorable Master. In this and in all things.”
Thal had a bit of extra pep in his step as he marched to the platform. It had been over a century since the master had deigned to be so active. What was happening? Was it the rebellion? Would he advise or interfere in the war? Had his prodigious mind and boundless extended perceptions caught wind of threats his children failed to see?
It was perhaps wishful thinking. The One True Sage had just spontaneously given up on conquest, gradually handing it off to others and withdrawing inward to his own cavernous psychic world and private experiments.
When the First Sage failed in the north, then failed and died in the Southlands, His Honor seemed to give up completely and cease caring about what was happening, except as an occasional curiosity. Perhaps that appearance was misleading, though. Perhaps he was truly still watching over them, waking up again and again to investigate dangers. It was a quaint thought.
Regardless, oh my, oh my, what a time to be… dead. Hehe…
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Some days later...
Baron Gerehart was sitting down in his private quarters, partaking of his customary Second Breakfast of fruit and cheese with wine, feeling pretty successful about matters all around.
He’d sued for peace with the warmonger Zadkiel, had been granted and secured Lowbarrow — finally — both via signed documents of the unfortunately dead Count Ambrose, as well as by Zadkiel. His interest and quick action, he was confident, would grant him the lands even if the Dominion stomped out the new threat.
If Zadkiel succeeded, he would become the new Count of… whatever Zadkiel named it when the time came. Probably something ridiculous sounding, after some devilish uncle of his, or his favorite demon sword, or perhaps something even worse. Who knew, with the absurdity of Naugites? But it hardly mattered.
Orswyth Maglion would finally be dead soon. It was necessary for the leveled connection to the land to be ‘transferred’ via the quest. A connection he’d squandered with mismanagement trying to keep his pathetic, overgrown peasantry well-fed in a land unsuited for it. Most of his knights were farmers, even.
Idiot. Only ever smart enough for swinging that halberd of his around. Just barely.
The credited rewards he’d get would save Gerehart… years and years, specializing the land for trade-centric crops. They were essential. The other rewards for his murder were fantastic as well. He’d level.
It’s no wonder, with as much of a pain in the ass as he’s been. If only he’d granted the land to that dumb whelp and left him. An easy kill. But I suppose that would change the quest. Eh.
The best part was being rid of the psychopath. As powerful as the elementalist had been, he was addicted to violence and killing. It had not been easy keeping him satisfied. He was a shoo-in to take out Orswyth — properly directed and once they could find him. After that, he’d be an ‘agent’ in Geirkos where he’d surely do something stupid and get killed. At the least, he’d find his own distractions… far, far away from Gerehart.
Hmm… I could recommend him to Zadkiel. A war is exactly where he should be with his appetites. What better company for the possessed than demons?
Gerehart allowed himself a laugh as he bit into a ripe peach. Sweet and utterly perfect. It tasted like his future.
He was aware of the flutter of black wings, seen through his pricey, pristine glass windows that let in light from the balcony — without the bugs.
A raven?
When he opened the door to the balcony, he found a blackeye raven simply hopping on the wooden balcony railing, seemingly waiting for him. It had a wooden tube on its leg. A specialty of the southern frontiers for tradition beyond memory — intelligent messengers who could be given specific instructions rather than just going to a roost like a pigeon.
He took the tube off and extracted the paper message, brushing the dust that came out as well off of his hands. It was a fairly long one, as far as such little notes went. He read it immediately.
Dear Baron Gerehart,
I hope this letter finds you well and free of infirmity. I am sending it to inform you that a certain matter is being conducted and shall be completed very, very, very, very, very, very, very soon. Ergo, the eagle has landed. Do not pass go. Jack jumped over the candlestick. Etcetera, etcetera, so on and so forth. Wishing you all the luck.
Yours Truly,
XXXXXXXXX (see in mirror)
He blinked several times at the strange message. Was it that freak wizard and some stupid game of his?
The bottom name seemed indeed as if it were in inverted runes, perhaps. Gerehart sighed, coughed, and went inside to go to his wall mirror, where he held it up.
For some reason, it took a bit longer to make out than it should, as if it were blurry. Or was it the mirror…?
POISON.
He stared. That was what the name said. He found that he was coughing, and finding it difficult to catch his breath. Weakness surged through him, and he fell to his knees. He held up the note with a shaking hand, to notice the ‘dust’ still subtly stuck to his fingers. He thought to cry out for help, but he found he couldn’t. All he could do was cough and wheeze.
How?! My amulet should’ve alerted me immediately! And… resistance…
The raven was there, perched on a chair back, watching. Its eyes flashed strangely… green. And too intelligent.
The mirror in front of him pulsed with light, and the image of a beautiful young queen on an ivory throne was suddenly filling it. Her regal dress was all gleaming blue like mirrored sapphires made into fabric, and her crown was of crystal. Behind her were many glittering bright stars.
Her eyes were blue, too… but cold. Like the ice at the top of a mountain that no one dared to climb, glaring judgment on all below. And coldly she said, “In your heart of hearts, you knew this was inevitable, Gerehart. You’re a worm. Someone would’ve squished you if you weren’t eaten by a pretty bird, first. Quite the beak, hmm? Deadly alchemy from the memory of another world.
“Much more advanced in the play and counterplay than this one. Not surprising to be more than your match — my man has brought down far higher than you. Your Earth Guy almost killed him, you know. Almost. And now he is the instrument by which dozens will be avenged.”
He tried to respond, but even his coughs were gone. He couldn’t breathe, and his muscles were all seized up and shaking, splintered through with agony. His mind was writhing too — with terror. He knew he was dying.
The queen in the mirror watched with pity and loathing. Like she wanted to turn away but made herself hold firm. In her eyes was hatred fighting with regret. “I’ll try to learn from you… try to prevent the disasters before they blow up… solve the equation before the consequences churn up this drive chain of violence. Maybe that’s some consolation.”
As the Baron dropped to the floor and his vision began to narrow and fade into an all-encompassing numbness, his thought was that it was no consolation at all.
The queen agreed. “Pfft. What am I saying? Eat shit and die, Gerehart. Okay? This world won’t miss you. I’m trying to save it — I think — and I don’t need you jamming things up. So… buh-bye now.”
Baron Gerehart’s final thought was perhaps rather petty — he hadn’t died with the taste of shit in his mouth at all, but instead the glorious taste of the greatest, most luxurious peach to ever exist…
That at least was consolation.
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End of Volume 2…
Thank you for your cooperation and observation, User. Your thoughts have been integrated into the System. Please proceed to the next book (or wait, depending on timeline).
Have a pleasant lifetime.
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« (Vol 2) Chapter 69 | Table of Contents | *Millions of Peaches, Peaches For Me~* »
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Note: 2 days before the next! It actually accounts for the gap that already existed between my writing of this and Vol 3, since I had a bunch of stuff to figure out. So, I'll be writing anyway lol.
Some of the logistics of dealing with Gerehart and the lead-up will be gone over in summary at the next chapter.
Cheers!
Comments
Rain Harlow
Thanks for reading!
Rain Harlow
Nice! Thanks for saying so!
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Irakli Jishkariani
Wow this was good one. Good idea explaining logistics later. This sounds more mysterious and cool. Intelligent raven and eyes kindof flashing, poison as dust. Cool, you know your stuff 😀😀
