Cold Iron, Empty Throne

You swallow, hard. This is going to be... different. "Ant," you declare, "I accept."

"Magnificent!" Ant's image smiles, slowly and broadly. It is an uncomplicated expression.

You take the pendant in hand, and hurl it to the ground. Ant's illusory self vanishes as you do. There is no need for such images. Not when her magical prison has been allowed to open its bars for the first time since before your parents drew breath, at the very least. You've finally allowed a brief work-release. The weird shaped little stone on the end of the string begins to warp and expand. Bits slide around and expand. It was always a tiny human form, you realize, just one pressed impossibly far into a fetal position, then covered over. That would be the remainder of the prison working that's kept Ant restrained.

The shape is still amorphous, a blurred and barely humanoid shape. It's the size of a small child before it manages to rise to all fours, but as it unsteadily rises to its feet, it's grown to reach your armpits. Eyes open. Hair begins to be visibly distinct from the head and neck. Fingers separate as the goop covering them together retracts. Still it swells.

The weird stuff that makes up the outer layer begins to disappear altogether. Ant comes properly into view for the first time. A spirit's body is a magical vessel, but no less a physical object for that. Ant's body is as she has shown: clearly inhuman, but not so far different, either, and with the face and features you've seen in her projected image. One thing that's clear now, though, is just how large she is. She towers over even Kalju, a good twenty centimeters taller than he. She raises her arms to the sky, and densely corded muscle shifts under her skin, practically crackling with magical potential. Ant lets loose a deep belly laugh, which echoes off the warehouses and icehouses around you. "At last!"

People are staring. Spirits were never the most common sight, not on the actual streets of town where any nobody could stumble across them, and now their numbers have been so sharply reduced that most people in the capital assumed all of them were gone.

Now, here you are, with just such a being. People tending to their boats, guards outside the Admiral General's headquarters, and various passers-by stop what they're doing and stare, many literally slack-jawed. Zahira is the first to realize the potential symbolism, and draws herself up behind you and to the left, looking as much the official adviser as she can. Samir gives a subtle one-shoulder shrug before taking the other side, then so do Kalju and Dawn. Ant takes the same kneeling pose her image was a bit ago. This one, though, is a little different. There is no mockery in it. "Boss. Give me my order."

She's giving you a chance for public theater. It was in the deal. "Ant. There is a young kraken off the coast. Slay it, and bring the corpse to me." Your voice may not have her ability to carry, but some people will still hear the loud proclamation.

"It will be done!" She draws herself up a little, then jumps, a single lithe propulsion that turns into a stately backflip and dive into the water. You see various people crowd the waterfront, watching her swim away, wiggling her entire body like a dolphin. It's a fairly respectable speed, and it's not too long before she vanishes into the distance.

That makes you, by default, now the most interesting thing for people to stare at if they have nothing better to do. Feeling obscurely drained, you sit heavily on a coil of old, abandoned rope. Kalju glances down at you. "You gave away someone else's boat," he says.

"I did," you acknowledge. "I... think we can give the owner this one." You gesture at the craft the Admiral General lent you. "Hobi probably expected it back if we didn't die, but it sinking in the course of the operation had to be a possibility, so he shouldn't have any room to complain that we're giving this up now. Besides, it's probably nicer than the boat Ant's going to wreck, so it'll be an upgrade for them, so... this should all work out." You scrub your eyes with the heel of your hands. It may be a tenuous justification, but Kalju radiates approval of it.

Zahira looks longingly over the ocean. "I guess this wasn't the stupidest possible solution, but I still kind of wish we were going to turn the thing to stone instead. Wouldn't that have been fascinating to watch?" Around you, people on the docks are egging each other on to have someone else get close to you. You're intriguing right now, but also potentially scary, an unknown person with links to an impossible spirit that has manifested from nowhere. Zahira runs an appraising eye over them. "Well, while you sacrifices sit around and wait to die like you were always supposed to, I'm going to go talk to the crowds and engage in a little shameless self-promotion."

"Dawn, go with her," you say without looking up at all. "Make sure things get credited properly. Samir, stay here and don't say anything to anyone."

"Got it, boss," Dawn says, quietly. Both women move away.

You feel a warm presence at your back. Samir decided to sit down, too, on the opposite side of your rope pile, back-to-back. "Thanks, boss," he says.

"For what?"

"For finding something where I don't get bit in half by a monster, whether or not the plan works."

"I didn't want to get bitten in half, myself."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want that, either."

- -

It's some time later, and most of the people who wanted to crowd in with questions for Dawn and Zahira have done so, when the next thing happens that rouses you from your rope seat. "Kraken!" Someone calls. "I see a kraken tentacle!"

Attention goes to the water. If it's genuinely come that close to the harbor, it's definitely noteworthy. It's also remotely possible that one of the coastal defense galleys might catch it, though that tends to be a fool's errand, as the kraken is swifter in the water than any galley.

You heave yourself to your feet and join the people staring from the water's edge over the harbor. In the distance, you see a snake-like coil rise and extend itself. It is, indeed, a kraken tentacle. Another figure appears, made tiny by distance. It's significantly more humanoid. Ant's showing off, you realize. She's brought the fight over here to show what's happening.

Spirit and kraken both gradually get closer to shore. Ant's mere two-and-a-bit meters of height are dwarfed by the kraken, whose overall length is three or four times her own. Both of them seem to be brutes, fighting with sheer brawn. The kraken is trying to use its bulk and multiple limbs to rip Ant limb-from-limb, while Ant is taking some punishment while pushing or leading the kraken, whichever she can manage. She'll charge it when she has the chance, or else throw straight blows from fist, elbow, knee, or foot whenever she has the leverage to strike with any power.

Between the two, it seems obvious that Ant should have the disadvantage, but, somehow, unbelievably, she's overcoming that and still gradually overwhelming her prey. So shocking is the sight, and so quickly have they come close, that no one manages to rouse any sort of defense to help Ant in time.

When they are within about a sling's distance of shore, Ant delivers the killing blow. The kraken clearly thought it had finally turned the tide, immobilizing both her legs and dragging her close to the hidden beak that was ringed by its tentacles. You couldn't get a perfect view, but as far as you could make out, Ant simply reached out with one hand, grabbed a hold of its rubbery flesh, and, thus stabilized, thrust the other hand deep into its body, piercing vital organs.

The thrashing goes on for a while, but they are clearly death throes, nothing more. Ant drags the no longer resisting body along, and, as they get close to the shore, she heaves the seven-and-a-half-meter-long beast over her head, bringing it down in a convincing smash... that reduces her chosen fishing boat to splinters, few larger than your hand.

Ant pulls herself from the water. There's a satisfied, tired grin on her face, but it clearly was not a trivial fight. Her nose has been nearly smashed flat, one arm is twisted funny, and she's covered with numerous little injuries. She's moving slow, now that the actual combat is over.

You stride up to her, trying to look bold and somewhat aware that you may not be pulling it off because you certainly don't feel it, especially as the kraken still twitches here and there. Luckily, people probably aren't really watching for that. You reach up, holding out your hand to Ant, who inclines her head in response. "Rest now, and heal."

Ant disappears. You tuck the pendant away, mildly confident that no one would have had a chance to see the specifics of your recovery of the spirit.

You turn back around. There's a crowd, now, one much larger than before. Most of the people there are looking at you expectantly.

[ ] Say something.
- [ ] What?
[ ] Leave without saying anything.

You discover something as you face a curious, concerned, large crowd. You'd never before really been in front of a large group like this. Not at home with your parents and the forge and the consistent beat of the water-powered trip hammer, and not in the temple as you were trained to be a disposable sacrifice.

You discover that you don't like talking in front of crowds.

So that's why you've heard people talk about not wanting to talk in public or how not everyone who wants to be a priest can handle getting up and giving a sermon. It's only a very momentary pause as you try to find your tongue, but you feel a finger being mercilessly driven into your side. You glance back to see Zahira giving you a wicked grin. "Don't worry," she whispers. "Try not to resist my magic and I'll give you a little boost, you shy mess."

A spike of flame jumps from her finger to you. You don't quite shudder, and it does feel... well, it makes you feel fired up. Zahira is pushing the limits of how far conceptual magic can go, not just into the actual control of flames, but also into the associations it can be pushed to. It's not supposed to be easy, and in this case the effect isn't that strong. It's enough, though, especially with the odd moral support you have from her and Samir being right behind you.

You draw a deep breath, but one more assured than before. You raise your sword high over your head. "Not all the spirits are dead. New heroes rise to fill the void of the old. Look about you and wonder, for a new age is upon us all!"

The effect isn't as good as you would have hoped. You do get a few cheers, scattered and brief, then a sort of general polite clapping that slowly builds up over several seconds. You're more street theater than inspiring, it seems--

--A vision comes to you, unbidden. As you look over the crowds, you see faces of these people not as they are now, but as they could be. Their future faces don't show that same disconnection, that same disbelief that you're facing today.

It's not an easy process, becoming a hero for real, but you have taken an important step. You are planting seeds that will bear fruit, and the wording you chose were important in how they see it. In fact, you--

--The split-second vision fades as you hear Samir trying hard to suppress an evil snicker at your lack of a major cheer. Your control isn't any good yet, and now he's distracting you.

There's angry shouting and a general disturbance at the back of the crowd. People part to watch this new interesting thing. It's a burly man who's clearly been drinking since he finished the day's work. There are several similar people behind him, but at enough of a distance that they're making it clear that they're not exactly with him, but just happen to be here for their own reasons, such as general solidarity. He points one massive, hairy hand at you. "Hey! Your pet whatever broke my boat! How am I supposed to make a living now?"

"You shall have that boat!" You gesture broadly at the little craft Admiral General Hobi loaned to your crew.

He looks at it and then looks back at you, considering if you're serious and if this is a good deal. After a good moment's thought, he says "Okay, good. Long as we're clear." Annoyingly, this gets more of a cheer than you got. Now the street theater is playing out for real, and people are much more willing to cheer for a good plot twist or potential fight than just you trying to come up with something inspiring. The other fisher types behind him look a little jealous. He's moving up in the world by pure chance.

Nor does the crowd break up there. There's some official-sounding shouting from another direction and you find a dozen or so of Admiral General Hobi's men pushing a path for their leader. They're outfitted for kraken. They brandish long spears, and they have various inedible-looking spikes on their bodies to discourage the kraken trying to grab or bite them.

The Admiral General himself looks no less like a bureaucrat just because he's no longer behind a desk and now has a ceremonial sword at his side. "What the blazes has been going on here?" Anxious to play up the now-interesting story, dozens of people independently shout out descriptions of what's been going on, complete with pointing at you at appropriate points. It's a wonder anyone can decode any information from the cacophony, but the gist does seem to come across.

Once he understands, Hobi strides up to you with an unpleasant look on his face. In the back of your head, you hear loud peals of laughter. Ant really didn't have much of a plan for the little fishing boat, it seemed. Just breaking it unnecessarily was going to make something go wrong, leading to exactly the sort of strife she likes.

"You're awful free with other people's good, aren't you?" Hobi hisses it in your face once he's close. You stand your ground. "It's probably for the best I didn't loan you a war galley, or apparently the copper would already be on a trade ship out and the lumber would be on sale as fire wood!"

"No one was hurt, and the cost was small. You'd have been lucky to only lose one tiny vessel and nothing else if we hadn't done this."

Hobi deflates. "Next time, ask, at least, or you're going to be in hot water." You sense it's more frustration than anger driving him. He doesn't like being powerless. He doesn't like not knowing what's going on. He doesn't like that you're pulling another unexpected card out of your sleeve in the form of Ant.

There probably wasn't anything you could have done today that would have make him happy with you. This was always going to end with Hobi upset that you weren't in the military hierarchy, at the end of things.

- -

There's a pile-up of things to keep you busy from there, both into and through the next few days. Not only is the story of the waterfront kraken fight and the aftermath spreading, but now Lady Adara and Councilor Omar and their loose alliances are recalibrating. This is now the third rabbit your group has pulled out of a hat in a row: first, there was the fact of your existence and independence. Second, there was the potions, which, while they were investigating them, they had not expected to find, and instead they proved both very real and in your possession. Third, now you've shown a mature spirit that's kneeling to you as a person. Taken altogether, it's not surprising that you have radically upset their plans.

The outcome is a constant flurry of messages, meetings, and couriers. Your name and the names of your partners escape into the streets. With the curious alchemy of the chatter on the streets and in bars, this story echoes and re-echoes, and every time you hear it some previous error has been corrected but some new element is exaggerated beyond all recognition. Once, you hear people trying to call your group "Azer's Aces", but this doesn't survive long because it's not sufficiently catchy. "Azer's Angels" also appears briefly, as does some wag's attempt at humor where he twists it to "Azer's A-holes".

None of the group names stick around, but all of you are definitely going to be much more recognizable to everyone going forward.

It's two more hurried meetings with Adara and Omar before they finally hammer out a basic framework, one that seems to satisfy them... for the moment. Adara will officially join the Regency Council, so your earlier efforts finally do pay off in terms of that. Although technically the Regency Council is larger, there are apparently a triune that had been calling the shots for all practical purposes, with Omar as one of them. Adara will now join them. There's details you don't quite catch, but somewhere along the way you end up nominated by them as a tie-breaker if the now-quartet splits two-two on an issue and can't break the gridlock.

You didn't even officially join the Council, and yet even while officially an outsider you're a potential shot-caller. Power turns out to be a self-fulfilling thing: by having some, you gain more. No one is sure if you do have another unexpected ace to play, and the hand you already have is surprisingly strong now that it's seen. Although Omar and Adara and probably even Hobi could throw more heroes and mages at your group than your total group size, you've managed to gather something of the public eye and the exact powers you've obtained are a good edge.

- -

"Ant, I have questions." It's late and you're in your room alone after one of these busy days. Ant doesn't project an image of herself this time, but you sense her presence. "Are people worshiping you now?"

"A little bit, yes. They don't know what they're worshiping exactly, so the actual magical flow isn't very strong."

"Are you going to be strong enough to break out of your prison?"

"I don't know, are you going to work out enough to fly by flapping your arms?" You stay silent for a moment, and Ant continues. "No, sadly, it doesn't work like that. If you want to break this damn prison, put me under a trip hammer for a few hours, and maybe it'll loosen up a bit."

"How was it, though? Getting out, fighting like that?"

"It was... good." Ant sounds surprisingly human for a moment, just wondering at the chance to do something she enjoys. "I knew you'd get yourself in trouble one way or another, but at least you let me look and talk and sometimes do things. Not like Tal-Roshath and his angels. I'm not actually trying to ruin things for you, you know. I think I said this before, but you'll get in over your head sooner or later. When that happens, remember that I do try to scratch your back if you scratch mine."

You frown at the empty bunk above you. "Your idea of 'back scratching' seems to revolve around making people angry and get into fights that they regret or otherwise making things worse."

"Well, yeah. And a tree-felling axe exists to rip a tree apart, but that doesn't mean it's not a useful tool."

"Are you just a tool, then?"

"Am I not?"

You don't answer before sleep claims you.

- -

The other thing you manage to carve out time for is for Dawn, who has been champing at the bit to start her own path to superhuman might. The actual advancement is not, itself, a direct problem. Things go smoothly, but she ends up even more drained by the process than you, Kalju, or Zahira were.

While she rests by curling up and not-quite-sleeping at the foot of Tal-Roshath's old throne, resting off the bone-deep exhaustion, you hear someone at the front door of the temple that has by now been generally recognized as a sacrosanct mansion for your team. Two different letters arrive with the same courier: one for you and one for Kalju.

You tear open your own letter and look over it. It's over-written and entirely too flowery, and the handwriting is so artistic it's difficult to read, but the summary is clear enough, especially once you read between the lines a bit. The Regency Council (as it is now constituted, which is much changed) is celebrating. The unpleasantness at the capital has been resolved (which actually probably is more that it was pushed under the surface), the seer network is finally starting to reconstitute itself (maybe 30% or so of the old Imperial islands are at least willing to pay lip service to recognizing Prince Ketut), and trade is reopening (with caveats such as a dearth of shipmages, but also some definite up points like a dangerous kraken being taken out of the picture by your group).

So, there's going to be a ball. Important figures will be going to the event. You apparently qualify. You will be allowed to bring a plus one with you. There's an addendum in an additional hand that states in somewhat passively insulting terms that Omar will personally see that you and your date can be given appropriate dress, as you doubtless don't have it already.

You look up at Kalju. His letter must have been shorter, as he finished it before you finished yours. You look at him to prompt him to say what it said. He looks at you puzzled for a moment, as apparently your gesturing is not as clear as you had thought. "What did your letter say?" You have to ask.

"Oh. Ariel is inviting me as her date to a ball."

"Wait, that little twerp?" Samir laughs, crossing his arms behind his head and arching his back in a stretch. "I guess the 'Grandmaster of the Bear's Mantle' still thinks she's pretty hot stuff and somehow on our level."

"I will accept."

Samir lowers his arms, looking a little surprised. "Oh." For once, he doesn't seem to have much else to add.

"What about your letter?" Zahira zeroes in on you. By the intent look on her face, she already intuited exactly what is on the letter, and is trying to pry the confession out of you.

"Something similar to what Ariel got, I think." You turn the letter around to let her glance at how unreadable it is. "I got invited to the ball and I'm allowed to bring a date."

"I am not going," says Dawn, from the floor, with a surprisingly clear and steady voice. "Ugh. I'm just going to be here and... not move."

"A ball! I bet they're going to have really good food." Recovering instantly from his surprise with Kalju, Samir bounds up to you. "Boss, we haven't had any good meals since the Great Dying."

"I could see some real networking opportunities here," Zahira adds, pointedly looking at absolutely nothing and touching up her hair. "As people redevelop magical theory and practice, there's going to need to be some communication between us all."

You glance at the two of them. Despite how they're phrasing it, you get a very strong feeling that inviting either Samir or Zahira will give them a certain impression about, well, the two of you.

- -

Two independent votes this time!

What did you try with Dawn that succeeded?
[ ] Dawn learned elemental magic
[ ] Dawn was put through the wringer for enlightened martial traditions

Who do you invite to go with you to the ball?
[ ] Zahira
[ ] Samir
[ ] ... Neither

- -

If it's not clear, we're just about wrapping up one arc here! This and the next update should basically conclude the first arc (of three) of this quest, where you have come to a divided city under siege and shaken up its order. This means we're almost a third of the way through the story. Thanks for sticking with me so far, as I felt out the quest format and made a certain amount of silly mistakes I'm trying to correct for. There's still a heckuva lot more to come!