The Last Daughter -- Dragon-Blooded Sorcery School Quest

"It's an old story," Sola says, after a moment's thought.

"Well, we have a few minutes," you say, enjoying the fleeting sun and the good weather.

"Alright, then," Sola says. Taking a long swallow of water, she hands the flask over to you. You take it gratefully. "This was at the end of the Spring Storm Rebellions, at the start of the Third Epoch. The final straggler of the rebel leaders was Erel Ukara, the Storm General himself. The Mantis Shogun finally shattered his armies and slew his hordes of spirits, but he managed to flee to the Isle of Voices ahead of being captured. She caught up with him in the year of the Bronze Dolphin, coming personally with what was left of her fleet."

"What happened then?" you ask, at least mildly interested. You know the broad strokes of Shogunate history, of course -- but you can't claim to know the intimate details of every war fought over its existence. You're not a Tepet, after all.

"Well, Ukara challenged the Shogun to a duel, and she agreed," Sola said, eyes dancing a little at this part. "He was a master swordsman as well as a great sorcerer, but she accepted -- he'd killed two of her daughters during the last battle, and she wanted personal satisfaction. They say that the two of them were so evenly matched, that the fight lasted for five days and five nights, and in the end, when the Shogun finally stabbed him through the heart, the islet they were fighting on had been shattered to pieces."

With a finger, you gently stroke the scales over Verdigris's nose. Her forked tongue brushes over your skin. "Five days," you say, faintly amused. One for every Immaculate Dragon. "How auspicious."

"It's a story!" Sola says, glaring you into silence. "Anyway, the shogun wanted to honour her fallen enemy, for his skill and his bravery and to mark an end to this long period of war that all the Shogunate had suffered through. But the ship she'd come to the archipelago on was small, so she interred his body in a cavern, along with his effects, and Storm's Eye, his sword. She declared that she would tell only Gens Erel where it was, and that it had been cursed to prevent anyone else from tampering with it."

"And she drowned in a storm on the way home?" you guess, tone deadpan.

"No!" Sola says, annoyed. "She was assassinated three days later, when she made port. Which triggered the Fourth War of Succession, of course, which just so happened to very nearly wipe Gens Erel out completely."

"What makes this a family story, then?" you ask.

"Only three Erel scions survived," Sola explains. "Two married into Gens Ferem. The third one, though, married into Gens Olvar, who are some of our ancestors. It all ties together, you see!"

You can't help but give a little laugh. "And I'm descended from the Mantis Shogun," you say. "Oh, don't roll your eyes, I'm not even joking -- Burano was her great, great, great granddaughter."

Sola, if anything, seems delighted by this. "So I suppose you're fated to defeat me... one of these days." She ducks, laughing, as you throw the empty flask at her head.

Once she retrieves it, you regain your composure. "Well, it's my turn then, I suppose. How much do you know about the conquest of Prasad?"

"Not much," Sola admits, clearly interested. "House Burano and Ophris took their legions on a long campaign, went rogue, and carved out their own little kingdom."

"More or less," you say, privately reflecting on how insulting most Prasadi would find that characterisation. "This comes from a text that my father gave me as a child -- it's a story about Burano Fareena, who was Burano's youngest daughter, and my ancestor on Father's side."

"Alright, then," Sola says.

It's been years since you last read that book, but you'd poured over it often enough as a young girl to have large parts of it memorised. "When Clans Burano and Ophris finally found a path through the Summer Mountains, they stood with the whole of the Southeast laid out before them. A land of great beauty and indescribable bounty: verdant grassland, lush forests, whole mountains of jade and lesser minerals, and above all, the vast, gleaming sapphire expanse of the Dreaming Sea. They understood in their very souls that this was a land truly sacred to the Dragons. It was their solemn, spiritual duty to bring their truth to its people, profaned as it was by misguided mortal princes and wicked fair folk and unchecked Anathema."

"I bet that mountain of jade caught their eye a bit too," Sola says, only grinning as you give her a level sort of look. Her revenge for your commentary earlier.

"At any rate," you say, "the legions of the Dragon Clans met the armies of Prasad. The Prasadis of the day knew not the true joys of the Perfected Hierarchy, instead being ruled over by a god-blooded priest caste and the gods they descended from. Both were ill prepared for such a force led by the Dragons' own Chosen. City after city fell along the main trade road, until the Dragon Clans arrived at Kamthahar itself — capital of Prasad then as well as now — and laid siege to the city."

You recall, briefly, your father's stories of the city of his birth, with its high towers and lush gardens, the Most Pristine Sanctuary of the Spirit at its centre. You'd like to see it, someday. "The fighting dragged on for long weeks, the defence led by the half-god children of the war god Prikata Fang-Fall, priest generals blessed with his power. At long last, in their desperation they called upon their divine father himself, and the god took to the field personally, striking down General Burano Lemera himself.

"It was then that her niece, my ancestor, Burano Fareena took up the fallen general's spear and challenged the god: 'Stand before me if you dare, you wayward spirit who would trespass on earthly affairs and spill the blood of the righteous. Face me, and know the Dragons' Pure designs for the world. I will drive each of their lessons into you until you learn their wisdom, or perish.'"

This, you notice, has Sola's attention, no jokes or cynicism. You suppose she's already shown you that she has a taste for these sorts of theatrics. "Prikata laughed, and fell upon her with fangs of dripping crimson against her lance of shining jadesteel. Farika fought like Mela herself — her every blow was a gale and a lightning strike in one. Her every parry shook the walls of the city with peals of rolling thunder. The war god fought her for a day and a night, all his might and his cunning failing against the armour of her wrathful conviction. And as the sun flooded the battlefield with light once more, Fareena brought the very sky down upon him, pinning him fast to the ground, a handbreadth from death. His progeny threw down their weapons in surrender at the sight of Prikata laid so low, and the gods of Prasad began to understand the folly of their actions as the rightness of the Perfected Hierarchy came into their hearts. On behalf of his court, the wounded god begged to be taught how he could find his place within it.

"As the city surrendered in the wake of the gods' defeat, the Dragon Clans recognised that, while not truly enlightened, the people of Prasad were more virtuous than most. They already attempted to order their society in a natural hierarchy, each caste keeping to their own people and tending to their own tasks for the greater whole. It would not be so difficult, it was decided, to make them understand the truth of the cycle of reincarnation. The surrendering gods and priest kings were made to see the error of their ways, and allowed to retain their spiritual authority, becoming the ancestors of Clan Akatha, and leaving earthly rule to the Dragon-Blooded of Clans Burano and Ophris, themselves mighty gods in human form."

Sola's expression at that is everything you'd hoped it would be. "I'll bet the monks loved that book." she says.

"Well, I was instructed not to let them see it," you admit. "I'm sure mother knew, but she didn't intercede — so long as I received a proper Immaculate education as she commanded, it was not unacceptable for me to learn a little of my father's heretical faith. Do you find it so unappealing, the thought of being worshiped as an earthly divinity?"

Sola's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, presumably to give a rebuttal as a good Immaculate girl should, before she frowns. "You're making fun of me," she says.

"Not unduly," you tell her.

Sola laughs at that, pulling herself to her feet. "Well, you've definitely won," she says, offering you her hand. "I would enjoy reading a more... grounded accounting of that campaign, at some point. I'm sure we have something at home." You accept it, letting her help you up as Verdigris finds a more secure spot across your shoulders.

It's at this point that you realise that you have an observer. A familiar, androgynous figure steps out of the rocky hillside, emerging as if from water. "I hope I'm not interrupting," says Diamond-Cut-Perfection.

Before you can say a word, Sola has lunged for her real sword, swept it up and out of its sheath, and leveled it at Perfection's throat. "Identify yourself, spirit," she demands.

Perfection smiles, displaying wide, innocent eyes, and putting their hands up in mock surrender. "Oh, please, I'm a friend. There's no need to threaten violence, O mighty Exalted warrior. Ambraea, introduce us!"

You give Perfection an unimpressed look, strongly suspecting they startled Sola on purpose. "This is Diamond-Cut-Perfection, Lesser Elemental Dragon of Earth and my extra-curricular mentor. Diamond-Cut-Perfection, you are currently being threatened by Tepet Usala Sola, Chosen of Mela."

Sola gives a very slight start at this news, but manages to remain calm as she slowly slides the sword back into its sheath. "I see," she says, not taking her eyes off of the shapeshifting dragon. You have just definitively put Perfection into the category of beings that one does not make into an enemy without significantly more force to bring to bear than two young and inadequately armed Dragon-Blooded.

"Delighted to meet you," Perfection says, giving Sola a dazzling smile.

"I assume this is about something," you say.

"Can I not simply talk to my favourite young sorcerer?" Perfection asks. When you continue to give them a flat look, they laugh. "Oh, very well. I have a mutually beneficial proposition."

"Which you're choosing to deliver in person, in front of my classmate?" You ask. Verdigris coils a little tighter around your neck, anxious at the larger elemental's presence.

"Well! It concerns her as well."

Sola blinks, taken aback, but curious. "It... Does?"

Perfection smiles a little wider. "Well, I couldn't help but overhear—" You make a slight scoffing noise. "Well, I couldn't help but overhear your fascinating story, and I thought to myself: Diamond-Cut-Perfection, don't you know of a cave like that?"

"... A cave like what?" Sola's eyes are already wide with subtle excitement as she asks, however.

"A cave, hidden by magic, holding the entombed corpse of a dead Dragon-Blood and his earthly possessions," Perfection says.

"And you just happen to know of this place?" you ask.

"I just happen to know most things about this misty little archipelago," Perfection says, waving that off. "I was the very ground between all your feet for long, dull centuries. And a cave warded with powerful magic against incursion by my elemental servants sticks out in my memory."

This all makes sense. Still, you cross your arms over your chest. "And you didn't seek out a way into it before now?"

Perfection sighs dramatically, leaning back against the rock behind them. "Such a suspicious mind, Ambraea: Don't worry, it's attractive, in a woman of action. Previously, you'll note I did not have either a supposed descendant of the entombed Dragon-Blood on-hand, along with a pupil who owes me a favour. The Earth is patient, but it does move eventually."

Despite yourself, despite the fact that you know they're bragging about themself, you can't help but find that description flattering. You glance at Sola.

"We can trust the spirit?" Sola asks you, voice quiet.

"If it involves our bargain, I cannot imagine they would deceive me deliberately," you say. Then frown. "At least, not lethally so. Truly, no one else on these islands knows about the cave?"

"As far as I know," Perfection says. "Trust me: It's not particularly accessible, even at the best of times."

"Is it underwater?" you guess, heart sinking.

"At high tide, and not much better at low," they agree, voice pleasant. "Just one of the many hidden little nooks and crannies out here. There's something I want from that place — I don't much care about the corpse itself or the sword or whatever other affects you see fit to claim, as long as I have that. Oh, don't give me that expression — it's not tombrobbing if the place was only ever intended to be temporary until the family could take custody of things."

You glance at Sola, gauging how she feels about this, but she looks, if anything reasonably excited about the prospect.

"You owe me for that first lesson either way," Perfection says. "Why not pay that off in a way that benefits you anyway? Obviously I can't be much involved myself — I have been permitted to keep up our bargain, but the friendly staff of the Heptagram have been most discouraging about further direct interference in student affairs or 'clawing after power' on this island."

You give a very slight sigh. "We'll see, then."

---

"You're going to go cave diving off the shore of the island?" Maia asks. You can hear how big her eyes are without actually turning around to look.

"It's in an isolated cove," you tell her. "The island's outer spiritual defences shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, yes, but drowning might be, for you!" Maia says, not unreasonably.

"This is not an insurmountable problem," you say. You and Sola are Exalts, and you're already a true sorcerer.

"It would be easier with my help, though, wouldn't it?"

You turn to face her then. Maia is leaning over a workbench, one finger trailing just above the surface of the liquid in the bowl in front of her. In place of a stir stick, the concoction is swirling around in a perfect spiral under her direction, components combining and darkening smoothly. "It probably would," you admit. All else aside, having a Water Aspect along is obviously useful in this enterprise. "Are you offering?"

"Well..." Maia doesn't quite look you in the eye, but there's an oddly determined set to her mousey features. "Well, yes," she says.

"Thank you." Before you can see her reaction, you kneel down to arrange the last of the sticks of incense, carefully ringing the tree in front of you, a towering plant growth that takes up most of the tower room you're in. The air is filled with the pleasant, verdant scent of a forest in full summer splendor, and you can't entirely suppress an urge at the back of your head to curl up at the base of the tree and take a well-deserved nap. The fact that it's festooned with paper warding seals and restraining talisman's puts the lie to the already unlikely possibility of it being an ordinary plant, and serves as a very good reason why you should not be taking naps anywhere in its vicinity.

You're very careful and deliberate as you take a candle and slowly light the incense, moving stick by stick, whispering words of calming as you go. Finished, you step back to let Maia retrace your steps, carefully pouring the contents of her bowl over the tree's roots. It gives a disconcerting groan of appreciation, a sound that audibly sets your teeth to vibrating.

Still, this is one of the simpler spirits to placate, hence why the two of you are doing this alone. It almost makes you feel bad for the sacrifices, scurrying around the school in their large groups, keeping cantankerous old elementals from doing anything too annoying. You and Maia both got through it, though — surely they can as well.

"Is L'nessa still in the library tower?" Maia asks, already turning to tidy up. Doing that sort of chore yourselves had been a strange sort of novelty, at first — now you both barely consider it. The Heptagram's invisible servants would take care of most things, but a wise sorcerer does not leave even the remnants of her workings laying around where anyone can blunder into them.

"Yes," you say. "Amiti agreed to re-explain some of those details about the elemental cycle to her, in exchange for some help with practical technique."

Maia makes a small, tentative frown. "Is Amiti still..."

"Yes," you say, instinctively knowing what she's getting at. Amiti can regurgitate theory with a truly impressive degree of recall. Actually using any of it is another matter.

"Right," Maia says, narrow shoulders slumping a little in sympathy. She steals a glance up at you, hesitating for a long moment before she asks what she's thinking. "Do... you and Sola know what you're going to do? About that cave? Aside from me helping, now that I offered to help. Not that you were counting on that!"

You don't visibly react to her outburst, even if it is almost distractingly endearing. Having put the last of the components away in a cupboard, you kneel down to scoop up Verdigris where she'd been waiting in the corner. The snake wastes no time in twining around your arm. "We've had some ideas," you admit.

Article:

What is Ambraea's immediate course of action regarding the cave? Sola will make her own preparations for this as well.

[ ] Ask instructor Cynis Bashura for advice

Bashura is aware of your situation with Diamond-Cut Perfection, and seems to be willing to leave you to it, within reason. She's a famously seasoned adventurer, and is likely to have advice for you, if you can convince her to part with it.

[ ] Ask L'nessa's adoptive cousin, V'neef Darting Fish, for advice

One of the older students, who you met over the summer. He seems well versed in nautical magic, and so may be able to help you brave some of the more natural dangers ahead of you. You don't know him well, but he seemed friendly enough, and your connection to L'nessa gives him a reason to stay that way.

[ ] Ask guest instructor Sai for advice

Sai is an elusive guest instructor and an expert on ghosts and shadowlands. She might have some words of advice when it comes to entering such an impromptu tomb as what you're considering. You scarcely know where to look to find her, but Sesus Amiti seems to have been able to consistently do so, from the extremely morbid things she's been gushing about.