C. Sebastian Nutt
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Chapter 210 - Debriefing
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 06:55:12 +0000 UTCThe clash of steel echoes from the yard. Droplets of water from the drizzle a few hours ago cling to the fabric covering the furniture out on the lawn. The back fence of the estate stands low, stretching out to frame the street to the south side of the property. Some stand, looking over the retaining wall of brick, peering through the continuance of wrought-iron that tops it to watch the fight moving back and forth through the grass. Most don’t. Almost every person I watch pass by past the fence wears dirtied clothes, more than a few stained with the black smear of charcoal. It is mostly the children who linger to watch; many give no sign that anyone will come to collect them.
An impressive collision of the weapons sings a whine through the air. The dew that still lingers vibrates. Disturbed from their precarious perch, the droplets slide away, splatting on the ground.
Dovik and Halford break, my smaller friend stumbling before regaining his feet. Dovik holds his two sabers in his hand, a contrast to the single blade Halford holds. My brother smiles as he stalks in a circle, flourishing the massive blade that glows with evident magic.
“Not bad,” Halford says. “You’re quick.”
“Not bad,” Dovik mutters under his breath. Given how many years I know that he has devoted to learning swordsmanship from his father, a fifth-rank magician, having my brute of a brother overpower him must not be the most fun experience.
Dovik vanishes, appearing almost instantly at Halford’s side as he stabs forth. The giant dips, the move holding little grace, but managing to turn his body just out of the way of Dovik’s stab. My friend vanishes again, reappearing above the head of Halford, the tip of his blade striking for Halford’s neck. Yet, my brother is already there, the massive claymore swinging upward to knock Dovik’s attack off-mark. It is just a parry, but the strength behind the swing is enough to spin Dovik sideways in the air as he dives. Halford manages to tap the knuckles of two fingers against Dovik’s forehead before he can vanish and regain his feet.
I feel the pounding through the ground as Dovik’s boots slap down onto a stone pathway. The two stop, looking at each other as a thin trail of red runs down Dovik’s forehead to roll over his nose.
“Your point,” Dovik concedes.
Both men smile at one another, readying themselves for the next exchange.
I sit on the back porch of the mansion, lingering on the stone steps that lead down into the yard. They have been going at each other like this for almost half an hour now, short bouts of furious blows being exchanged followed by minutes on end of standing still, just looking at each other. I don’t understand it, but they must be getting something out of it.
Jor’Mari sits on the steps next to me, his hands bridged beneath his chin, staring ahead at the combatants, staring past them. My hand rests on his leg, but I don’t think he notices. He is far away from here, and I don’t know how to reach him. How do you comfort someone who has just lost so much?
I should be doing what Corinth told me to do. There is so much that I have to take care of myself, yet it all seems so meek compared to his trials. It isn’t. I know that. I just want to make sure that he is okay before I go, because I do have to go, and I don’t think he can follow.
Everything feels so detached, so distant. Three days after the battle for Danfalla, I still can’t shake the feeling that none of this is real. I know it is, none of my nightmares in the prison lasted nearly as long as this. But, if this is real, why do my hands feel so numb?
I only realize Jor’Mari’s hand is resting on my own when he turns to look away from the fighting. No, they have stopped too, the three men looking at me, or rather, past me. I turn to find Illigar the Sage standing in the doorway behind me, the back door of the manor propped open with his foot. To look at him, you might never imagine that he was stabbed in the heart just a few days ago. Beneath his fine clothing and non-plused exterior, there must be bandages still across his body, enchanted folds of cloth that work to settle his damaged organs, to repair them to pristine condition. The more I see others hurt, the more of a deviation I realize I am.
“It’s about time,” Illigar says, nodding to Jor’Mari and Dovik. He looks at me like I am an afterthought. “You should come along as well; this will affect you.”
“Where are we going?” Dovik asks, twirling his blades, one vanishing into mist while the other he slides into the scabbard on his belt.
“Duke Jav has asked me to conduct an assessment of the attack,” Illigar says. “The captured monster today finally confirmed vital information, and I feel capable of giving a decent explanation. We go now to deliver this information.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Halford dismisses his blade before walking away, clearly having no desire to join in whatever this will be. When I turn back, Illigar is looking at me, expecting the obvious question. “Why do you want me to join you?”
“Like I said, it will pertain to you. I would ask the monarch to join us as well, but I have been unable to locate him. Do you have a way to speak with him?”
“Corinth will return in a few days,” I say, getting a nod from the man. Monarch, finally knowing what that means, does little to settle me. What have I gotten myself into?
Jor’Mari says something to Illigar, but I miss it as my mind turns toward my troubles. The feeling of disconnection returns, the passing scenery only vaguely sticking to my awareness. We ride in a carriage toward one of the few buildings left standing on the palace estate, a small barracks used to hold some of the Mari house guards, now the residence of the duchy’s new duke, Jav Cla’Mari, Jor’Mari’s eldest brother.
The once impressive gardens that dominated the entrance of the Mari estate are nothing but churned earth now. The bodies are gone, the blood cleaned from the stones by hand, but the stink still lingers. I can smell it, rot, like the grass itself has turned sour. Flies buzz through the lawn, their noise a reminder.
Then, Jor’Mari’s hand is on my back. He pulls a chair out for me, helping me to sit at a hugely long table in a stone room. Four painted portraits line the short walls of the box-like room, the west wall given over to oval windows that allow light to filter in. There is a heat to the room, a stuffy closeness to the air that seems to make the murmuring grow louder. We are not alone here. An assortment of men and women, their dress detailing varied stations, stand or sit around the table. The wood is dominated by letters and papers, loose piles indicating an effort at organization that has been abandoned. Illigar stands at the head of the table, speaking directly into the new duke’s ear. Jav looks a little better than Jor; dark spots stand out beneath his eyes.
The world seems to pop back into my awareness as the Duke barks a short command. All at once, most of the people in the room gather their belongings, making it out the doorway in a hurry. The large doors to the chamber clap shut with a crack, bathing us few who remain in quiet. I remain in the room with Jor’Mari, Illigar, Duke Jav, Dovik, Yor Cla’Mari, and two elven men that I don’t know. All eyes look to Illigar as he gives a short bow to the duke, moving away to stand on the opposite end of the table.
The man stands at the end of the table for a silent moment, tapping the wood with a finger, chewing on his words. Finally, he looks up, his eyes falling on the duke. “You, Grace, do you know what a Pillar of Civilization is?”
The new duke cages his hands, leaning forward. “I have heard the term,” he says, cutting his eyes sideways to fall on me. “Though, I have to wonder how you might know of it. You are called a sage, but attaining imperial secrets is dangerous. Was it your captive that told you of this?”
Illigar nods. “No, the creature didn’t seem to know the name of it, only that they were after an important artifact.” Illigar taps the wood a few more times, thinking.
“I question your discretion in bringing this up to me before those outside of the imperial hierarchy,” the duke says.
“No doubt your father might have told you that the Mari family had one,” Illigar says, ignoring the comment. “If he led you to believe that it was an imperial secret, then he misled you, or you misunderstood. Certainly, the Ramcalla Empire possesses a pillar and uses it, but they are not unique in that.”
The duke unsteeples his fingers, leaning back in his seat. “Truth be told, I know little about it. Go on.”
Illigar nods, looking at each of us in turn. “For those who don’t know, the Pillars of Civilization were created more than a millenia ago. I do not know the specific nature of their creation, but I do know their function. They are instrumental in establishing the states of the world, artifacts that help to draw upon the power of the populace to pool their strength together. You might think of them as the source of your endowment, Grace. Within the heart of Ramacalla, the emperor guards a similar artifact. Most of the long-standing states in this world possess one. You might even say that they are vital to creating a nation.”
“Enowment is a right granted us by Exeter’s divine hand,” Duke Jav protests.
“That is also a valid perspective,” Illigar concedes.
The duke blows air, waving his hand. “We had such an artifact. It was given to us to hold in safekeeping by the emperor some centuries ago. As of yet, it has not been recovered as we searched the wreckage of the palace.”
“No, nor will it,” Illigar says. Then, he nods to me. “Ms. Devardem should be able to confirm what I say. Among the monsters that attacked the city, there seemed to be one capable of creating portals of space magic. The assailants put in a lot of effort to steal the pillar, and in the end, they succeeded in doing so. As soon as they had it, they left. This, along with the information the captive has relayed, allows me to be certain in my assessment. These shape-changing monsters attacked the city to steal this artifact. It was a task they accomplished.”
“Is this true?” The Duke looks directly at me. “These creatures stole the pillar?”
I swallow, blinking. I don’t know how long I sit, staring back at the man before I can find my words, but it feels like far, far too long. “Yes, your Grace. The one that could create portals summoned an impossibly strong monster. It was that one who finished the effort to make the pillar vanish.”
“And then they just left?” the duke presses. “Decided that their attack on our city was to come to an end?”
“Ms. Devardem has the right of it,” Illigar says, bringing the duke’s sudden anger back to him. “Were it not for her help in those final moments, I fear they might have lingered. As she said, there was an impossibly strong creature among them. It is not far-fetched for me to say that it must have easily been far into the realm of the fourth rank. There are very few in this empire that might have been capable of defeating it. Lucky for us, we merely needed to scare it into using its power.” Illigar stops, his eyes scanning the empty air. “Have you heard of the Remade?”
Near me, Dovik slaps the table. He stares at Illigar, his eyes wide in either surprise or disbelief, I can’t tell.
“The Remade are a myth of your heathen beliefs,” Yor says. The woman shoots a dirty look at Dovik, and my friend has the good grace not to contradict her, sitting back in his seat. At the head of the table, the duke looks contemplative. Next to me, Jor’Mari continues to look between the players at the table, his eyes deeply focused.
“I don’t speak to the canon,” Illigar says to Yor with a shrug. “I am merely asked to convey the assessment that I have reached, and that assessment is that the creature behind these events was one of the Remade. Whether you believe that they are truly Parfillio’s bane or a natural creation of the manasphere, it matters little. The historical records of such monsters existing are undeniable, and I believe that one visited this duchy just a few nights ago.”
“I assume you have evidence if you want me to entertain fairy tales,” the duke says.
“Only circumstantial evidence,” Illigar says. “It is no secret that I approach the Throne of Tomorrows. I’m certain that you, at least, are aware of this, Grace.” The Duke nods, and Illigar continues. “Prior to the attack on Danfalla, I was delivered a prophecy. Like most prophecies, it was difficult to decipher, and in it the monstrous creature that was summoned to the city was spoken of as The Servant. That alone narrows the field of classification for what that monster might be, but it was the next part that helped finalize what I believe to be true. The prophecy did not give me a way to kill the monster that threatened the city; I do not have the power to do so, but it did tell me how to defeat it.
“I was bid to injure it, though even that proved impossible. Instead, those of us who remained in the fight were able to force it to defend itself with its power. It retreated in a hurry after that, killing what I believe to be one of its subordinates to leave. Less than a minute later, the imperial crown prince arrived in Danfalla. This is not a coincidence.”
Illigar holds the duke’s attention with his eyes, and I only barely notice the fluttering of his hand. The movement is slight, just a few fingers chopping the air in my direction, but the signal is enough for me to understand. The man mentions nothing about Corinth's arrival. I don’t see any reason to correct them.
The duke glowers. “His royal personage left the duchy before I could ask him what happened. He took Sagistan with him, leaving us to clean up what remains of the beast tide on our own.”
“They owe us support,” Jor mutters.
“They do,” the duke says. “Whether they will deliver it or not is an entirely different matter. So, you think we were the target of a Remade?”
“Don’t tell me you are entertaining this?” Yor says. “Brother, really.”
“I am entertaining everything,” the duke says, his voice a whip. “You were not there, sister. I thought Sagistan a fool to follow the hunch of Illigar the Sage, but when we approached the place he had us go, we found exactly what he said we would. There was a thing there, a monster taking on the countenance of a twisted woman. It controlled the beast-king at the center of the tide, bent the savage creature to its bidding. It held power over thousands of monsters at once. When Sagistan finally struck the creature down, the monsters fled, all except the great lion. It nearly cost our lives to bring it down. This beast tide was orchestrated. For it to be orchestrated by an entity as malevolent as a Remade is not out of the question, if such monsters truly exist. Given Illigar’s correct assessments thus far, I am inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Yor throws her hands up at her brother’s words, but doesn’t protest any further.
“Go on,” the duke says.
“It is as your Grace claims,” Illigar continues. “Whether or not you believe that the monster behind these events was one of the Remade or not is ultimately inconsequential. What is clear is that the being behind the attack on the duchy is power, cunning, and worst of all, patient. It was somehow able to orchestrate a beast tide into being. I don’t doubt that it knew the duchy would seal itself off as a result. It knew that it could split the forces of the duchy by attacking the cities throughout the land. It knew that doing so would pull all the defenders away from Danfalla, other than the Mari personal troops. It attacked in a way to force your family’s forces into summoning as many demons as possible to deal with the threat, and it somehow had a countermeasure waiting for such a case, a way to break the control of your family over the monsters. I believe that it may have even been responsible for your late father’s illness, to weaken him ahead of the attack.
“Whether or not this entity is a monster from myth matters little. It did all of these things to claim the artifact that your father safeguarded, and it nearly succeeded in destroying the duchy in the process. At least, we were able to stop that.”
The Duke shakes his head. “All of this, just to steal an artifact. To what end?”
“That, your Grace, I do not know,” Illigar sighs. “I know that it took the attackers a considerable amount of time to extract the pillar. Likely, the only way for them to remove it was to first assassinate your father. They then sowed chaos, buying time. What use they have of the pillar, I can only guess. Such an artifact is nearly priceless. I don’t doubt that there exists no shortage of those willing to deal with monsters and devils to get their hands on one.”
The Duke settles forward, his hair falling over his face. In this moment, the man looks far older than his years. His eyes flick back and forth as he looks down at the table. At last, he nods, looking back up at the man across the table from him. “Thank you,” he says. “This is…enlightening. No doubt, the imperial family will have more to say when I petition them for an explanation in the coming days. I doubt that they will agree that a Remade was here or that one might even exist, but you make me curious. Why would the prince arrive just after this powerful monster displayed its power? I’m certain that they will answer me directly and not try to put me off.”
“That is my hope as well, Grace,” Illigar says, bowing toward the man.
“You are dismissed,” the Duke says, standing.
Illigar taps me on the shoulder, indicating me to follow him out of the room along with Dovik. None of the three siblings look in the mood to follow us out, not even Jor’Mari. He looks down at his hands, the mood in the room turning more sour as I leave him. I know I shouldn’t intrude on this, but I don’t want to leave him. I will.
“Illigar,” the Duke calls before we can leave the room. “The prisoner, do you still have it in custody?”
“I do, your Grace.”
The Duke pulls a pile of loose papers to himself, settling them in front of him as he speaks. “Good. Execute it.”
“I will see it done, Grace.” Illigar pulls the doors closed as we exit, just the three of us left to linger in the hall: him, Dovik, and I. He doesn’t say another word as he leads us from the building, not until we are in the carriage and have made it past what remains of the wall enclosing the palatial estate.
“I lied,” Illigar says.
“About what?” asks Dovik.
The man looks between the two of us. “I think I know exactly why the pillar was taken. The two of you need to know. It pertains to the Trial of Soul and Bone.”
Comments
Nick P
Skipping the talk with her bro and then bringing it up in her thoughts without revealing it any of what was revealed ain’t it. Some mystery is good. Not done like this.
Apoca
No... don't skip important conversations! It's Evil
Drunknminer
D: get a cliffhangered on an important convo and than skip it :( i dont realy mind though. Tftc
