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AN: This update did not want to be written but it is here at last. Also new map for the world. Any comments and critiques are welcome
If you were to ask ten different people you are most likely going to get different answers for what they like to do, well if they are answering truthfully of course and not just about the latest fad. For me I always did enjoy sparring, especially with a partner of equal skill and with bared blades. Then again that might just be the fact that even sharpened blades tended to not be a serious concern for me in the past. Whether it be from the litany of spells that would have made any injury go away or being made mostly of metal.
Still even I have my limits. Formal dueling is one of them, ever have a favorite game you always enjoyed and then have someone take it away and replace with a slightly changed version. One that ruined a key aspect, well this is it. Still I have survived centuries, being unable to learn a single style of fighting because of childish frustration is unbecoming. At the very least the instructor, well the latest one at least knows to shut up when needed.
Also that the instructor is at least skilled in an actual fight and can make things easier to understand. I usually consider my family to a good one, quite reasonable and practical in matters. But I have to grit my teeth through all the formalities both physical and rhetorical. I find myself wondering at times when I will get the opportunity to use this on someone. It never goes farther then that, it would be a waste of time and potentially a life after all..... I honestly cannot even think that with a straight face. Too cynical to not know that the value of a life often fluctuates.
"Enough chewing grass lad, your reprieve is over. Now I want fifty repetitions of combo alpha duo and then five of the others. We can get to sparring and see if you really remembered what you are doing then. Get to it lad, the faster we get this done and done well then you can head back and do whatever you feel like" Ahh good someone understands I am not enthusiastic about this.
Still even if I do not like these moves there is I suppose as should be the case a certain elegance to formal dueling. There is rather then efficiency of movement one that relies on momentum, it is the duelist that is unable to to keep up a so called combo that usually loses. Though this method of dueling is only possible due to all the blades being used incorporating adamantium, only a thin edge on otherwise well made but plain steel. The blade would be dented and bit into too heavily even with non-sharpened edges otherwise. I work up a slight sheen of sweat just as I finish the repetitions and the instructor calls Aeiden to serve as my opponent. I found it somewhat confusing that my bodyguard would need to learn formal dueling until I was told that they were expected to serve as representatives to duels if needed.
"Perhaps I can finally gain a draw this time young master" Aeiden tries to sound hopeful, but my polite smile only shows how little hope there is. Do not worry Aeiden I know you are busy chasing some of the maids, there won't be any serious wounds or even bruises. Ahh my thoughts must have been obvious as he pushes himself into a backwards dodge and defensive posture immediately.
Aeiden is a cautious duelist, one more content to wait for an opportunity rather to strike out aggressively. For someone that usually only needs to buy time for reinforcements it is good, but to me is anathema. My eyes track each relevant muscle group to show their readiness to flex or constrict, I pace around to get a better feel for this patch of ground. Some minor depressions but nothing of concern. My nose and skin tracks the air currents, my ears taking note of the surroundings. A one handed blade in my right hand, a main gauche in my right.
I strike out with fast but straightforward blows, each using the momentum to swing into another position to strike or add force to the blow. My angles of attack are limited by the proscribed moves, so I compensate by making the most efficient and harrowing strikes. Well metaphorically in this case, I do not actually want to hurt Aeiden after all. He dodges and parries but ultimately starts to lose ground, each block putting him more and more off balance. After a point I step into knife range and using the crossguard of my main gauche wrench the blade out of his hand.
A strike with the pommel in a bash enough to take the off balance teen to the ground. He tries to recover but is unable to. My knee restricts his movements and I lay my blade horizontally across his neck. Helping him back up once the duel is called I take a good sip of the water presented to me before splashing a little across my neck. Not the most elegant of habits but the lack of decorum is a fine trade off against the tacky sweat. I say my farewells to this instructor, perhaps if he lasts another year I will bother remembering his name.
If he does then it will be a record, most instructors are off put by my manners. I technically do not act out against any serious equitique rules but my strange habits and careful perusal of any manuals on the standards of interaction make it a position not many wish for. That just means I get the quality ones, sadly the competent instructors are already busy with others or in different positions.
At least I have only had to deal with one outright cheat, a threat of using the old style rules of dueling meant that fool was run off. Keen on keeping his fingers he was, or simply too broke to afford the annulment fees. I consider myself a progressive person generally, quite willing to embrace new ideas and test out new things. But a progressive person elsewhere is a conservative person here. Walking to the ablution chambers to freshen myself for the next lesson I find myself thinking over some of the tenets of old style nobility. Simple things, obviously meant to finish any disputes as quickly and finally as possible. They always did leave a good impression on me, outmoded in a time of peace but temptation for what seemed like simpler times is strong.
Time Transition
"I will be spending the next period in my study. You can take a rest now Aelia, Aeiden" I turn away once I receive the acknowledgements of my attendants. Their faces set in polite neutrality, I feel a twinge in my heart from this but I do not pursue it. I walk through my chambers to the secure door that marks the entrance to my study, certainly it looks like what one would expect at first. Quite a few rows of bookshelves filled with tomes of history and novels written by popular writers. However it is the offshoot room that holds quite a few more subtle defenses then a lock that I spend my time in.
After seeing to the integrity of my privacy I put on my laboratory garments. I muse to myself as I walk around and check the progress of some of my stewing production stills. Life has been routine really, I am 13 so there is a limit to what I can do. The years since the....attack have been spent in tinkering and producing the most basic tools I need. My efforts with jewelcrafting and precious metal working have let me disguise some of the items I have made. Besides some....well sadly crude personal trinkets I have made for myself and as gifts to others are my important items.
The centerpiece of my efforts is as I walk over to it still bubbling smoothly, the fossilized wood of a Greywood Heart in a bath of quicksilver mixed with platinum dust and other ingredients. About eight cores of the prepared heart the rough width of my thumbnail lie in the bath, a fine mist of bubbles around them as the brew works changes on the cores. Ohh I do have the family rite of passage amulet, a magical focus that serves adequately for everyday life and light duties. But I need something stronger, something I can actually trust to handle my more....destructive talents in battle or forging items.
Oh sure the familial amulet is up to standards for war to this realm, but not mine. Magic here is to use computer terms mostly single core and single thread. High powered magical focuses can run simple spells in the blink of an eye, this includes things like stoking a flame and then proceeding to throw it at a target. However the greater complexity of spells such as creating a lightning bolt requires different processes.
Thinking back on it I am rather spoiled, I could have simply chucked a kinetically enhanced dagger at any of my assassins during my life instead of relying on a slow to process charged lightning bolt. But then again that was me panicking. I am used to targets requiring a bit more oomph and having decent defenses to block a half assed attack. To be fair some of them did indeed have defenses against simply getting stabbed and against basic magic. Still it is good that barring the...unfortunate incident with the mind poison the rest of the assassins I have faced were dealt with by guards. I can deal with endless war and subtly hiding myself, outright assassination attempts are newer to me. Even my second life usually involved dealing with spec ops raids rather then more subtle and sudden assassins. Less use of cold arms for one.
But as it is while having the familial amulet will be helpful, if my apparent enemies really began playing for keeps then I will have trouble. Assassins with poisoned daggers are deadly yes, but so are spelled traps or simply a cliff side being dropped on my head. Watching the cores start to really begin to be covered by mist I check the amount of time they have been submerged. Good they should be ready to be removed just about....now. As I use a pair of tongs to remove the cores I can feel the faint haze of mana radiating from them. I can taste a slight scent on the air from them, the closest I can compare it to is the scent of boiling water dripping off a stone. It is good I improved the isolation wards or these would be starting to get attention from some of the guard mages.
Letting the cores stew in another bath I check over the other components I will need. My attempts at synthesizing artificial crystals beyond the size of a pea has not been going well, they will be needed for basic spell matrices however. The cards so to speak of a computer. No impurities so far of importance. The tolerances should be enough to account for any nano-cracks. I am confident I can find a solution in the coming months however. I do not have much else of strict importance so I continue my checks before changing into more comfortable clothes. As always I also drink a measure of the supplements I made, they taste foul. Fouler then the originals I remember drinking in that first time, and that is an accomplishment.
Walking around my library I find myself a seat at my favorite chair with a book. The vellum of the pages telling of its quality as I run a finger along it. I do not allow myself too many indulgences, not after the wake up calls that were my life so far. But I do have to admit my favouritism of Eilgen Selmar, his stories are incredibly fascinating to me. A guilty pleasure, this novel being the newest one I could get from the merchant whose business I favour. Hmmm looking at the note hidden in the sleeve I see that things are going well for my plans. Chucking the note in the nearest brazier till it is only fine ash I find the beginning. Hmmm there are illustrations here, not to my taste but certainly a new direction. Well done but not raunchy, certainly not what is distributed amongst the servants. Bribery, a useful thing if distasteful to me.
POV Change
The Commonwealth formed at its core by the Elven race can be roughly separated into seven parts. The ancestral elven lands known as Los Ilmarnat or the Heartlands serves as the cardinal central point, the area where the rest of the Commonwealth is organized. As one of the if not the largest contiguous land based polities with a significant economic and cultural hegemony as well there is a great variety to be found. But if you were to ask any person in the lands where adventure may be found many will point to Gren Tuilna or The Northwestern Frontier in colloquial terms. This is the place to still be able to find untouched ancient ruins from before The Year of Shattered Heavens, not to mention the rare species of monsters and plants. Mercenary adventurers and militias guard the lands creating a strong independent and martial tradition amongst the peoples there. Whether this be from encroachments from dissident savages or the barbarian humans.
However as bleak as things can be there was also that excitement of being able to go out into the world and make new strides. To do acts that most would view as utterly impossible. And for others it paid well, the exotic goods if one manages to survive to gather can be sold at prices that rival those of the Dengar Seaway exotics for price. Then there is the magnetic draw of cultural might and personal glory. For the adventurer party dubbed The Blue Sparrows(pending a night in a tavern to truly make it official. This time for sure really) it was a mix of all of the above and a few more things.
Formed three cycles ago the group had faced hard times together and not everyone present now was there at the beginning. The group however had made a name for itself in hunting monster marks, particularly deadly ones. And for their current mission it would be a good one for their pockets. A Lesser Organ Wyrm, named for its particular crest arrangement is a prestigious target. Its use of acoustic tricks in hunting was deadly when applied to elfoid targets rather then the megafauna it usually partook of.
It was a testament to their familiarity with each other that even being completely swathed ear plugs and turbans spelled to block sound that they could still fight. Thus when the mark chose to ambush the group as they tread along a path in the canyon that was its hunting ground they survived. Survived being not immediately during, the sonic shriek of the wyrm hurling sharp stones at the party that bounced off shield and armour with bone shaking force. As the wyrm hung half on and off a canyon wall it then leaped down.
That was when the group struck, the group of ten quickly scattering to set combat positions. Two ranged fighters in the back let loose crossbow bolts that hammered the beast's chest. More specifically the blunt quarrels struck where the wyrm's lungs and diaphragm was. As the beast gagged the four melee forces streaked forward, two with sword and shield and the other two with heavy warhammers. They struck hard and fast, vicious spikes attempting to bite deep into the wyrm's scales as swords sought out gaps where the joints were.
The beast bewildered at the hubris of its prey gave out vicious sweeps of its claws, the sonorous hymns of its organ crest echoing all the while. The fighters quickly disengaged and dodged as needed as arrows and bolts attempted to wind the beast. If the beast was at first surprised at what was happening to it, then now it was long over its surprise. Taking the initiative the beast wrenched itself forward forcibly and attempted to bite down on the backline, more specifically where it scented the greatest degree of mana. The solitary mage of the group grimly stood his ground, tapping a jem on his wrist bracelet conjured a spike of stone from the ground giving him a second's respite. Just enough for his spell to strike.
Concussive hammer blows of air mixed with water beat the beast back, its skin scoured of layers of scale from the force. More strikes by the fighters attempt to wound the beast further.The beast however shows its cunning by doding back onto the canyon walls, a particularly strong blast of sound even flinging back adventurers a few meters.The wyrm jumps behind an outcropping of stone to block several bolts and arrows before rearing back and giving a powerful blow to the stone. Its claw dislodging loose stones and then the thrum of its crest as it begins crying out again.
The shotgun blast of stones take their toll in bruising and battering the adventurers but they persevere. As the beast attempts to run the mage activates a second jem. This one an even stronger burst of wind mixed with razor sharp ice that eviscerates a leg and the hindquarters on the beast. The beast sings out a cacophony of noise in pain and even hate as it wheels around. It now in its mind knows it cannot escape so easily, not with its injuries now. So the only path out is by taking down its foes. Baleful eyes survey the condition of the now identified pack predators. Its strikes had for the most part missed though deep gouges into some pieces of armour and weapon can be seen, evidence of its powerful blows even when parried.
Of the ten that faced it two have fallen back, limbs clutching wounds. Others have had deep lacerations from stones that crushed their way through chain and cloth to dig furrows into flesh. The scent of their blood emboldening the creature as it rushes again to bite and tear. It mouth closes in one a shield and the arm it holds, a horrible crunching noise is heard as the metal of the shield twists. The sound of the man whose arm bends in ways it should not before blessedly at last the straps break, the body then flying into a wall and then lying still.
At this time too are the adventurers gauging their target, teeth grit as they try to keep the attention of the beast to those still able of body. Its hide is nicked by many small pinpricks where their weapons have managed to find purchase. Just as they have bled so has the beast, they however have the advantage of potions. Precious they may be but so very useful. Enough to give them a second wind as their boots left prints in the blood soaked dirt and stone. Their comrade dragged back and a desperate and agonizingly slow flow of liquid healing down a throat.
The beast is now sluggish though it growls, whether understanding what they are doing or simply from the cracked and bleeding portions of its body. Its hide exposed and rent, the crest pierced and slashed through to the other side in places but defiant. The entire group adventurer and drake continues to back up along the path but the next turn is approaching and the beast halts. At this the group of adventurers tighten their bodies, they know what this means. The same thing has happened before as the drake faces the group. Instead of eyes of rage and of the hunt they see a resolve, as much of something that an inelven beast that cannot think can have it.
Yet unbeknownst to the group their battle has caused a great deal of damage to the length of canyon they have been fighting in. Stones that have laid undisturbed for centuries are now exposed, were pitted and cracked by spell and shout. It is not within biological memory that the creature has emerged, the scale of geological movement making a mockery of even the keenest mind. The canyon they were fought in shows deep serrations in both sides of the rock wall, the way narrowing as they proceed. The entrance is a large crater with many deep cracks, the ages smoothing them out along with the many large boulders there. This is the turn that is soon coming for there is no straight shot out. The natives before they were pushed out by elven expansion and whose name for this place still stands is Yalgantola. It means 'Sitting place of the Lord'. Not that any of the elves and other newcomers remembered beyond old heirloom journals.
Not until there was a shadow cast upon the land, how such a being that stood taller then some stone castle walls could be so silent is not known. But all who witnessed it fled on instinct, the adventurers barely remembering to tug along their wounded and the drake more wisely shrinking into a nook in the wall and trusting in its camouflage hide where there was no blood flowing of course. How the earth elemental managed to choose its target or even 'think' for whatever given value a natural disaster in mobile form has is still not known no matter the attempts at study.
Not that the adventurers cared as they ran for their lives, the behemoth's slow but long gait keeping them within the zone of danger that is death by kilotons of earth. The path below them compacting in places, an aerial view if it existed showing a trail of old footsteps. New footsteps and impressions are soon added, the bones ground to shard as survival of the fittest takes place. It is not the fastest but the one that is in front that lives. Of the group of ten odd adventurers that came, only one survives.
Days later a subdued woman with a bow on her back enters the local provincial capital. She enters the bank that serviced her group and quietly takes the money from their vault. While a modest sized group fund it is rather large for a single person. It is not a new story, the gossip about the loss of the group only being told in a few taverns they frequented and lost within a week from the mind.
Elsewhere a new position for a forester is taken, the expanding noble house in good enough straits to staff its latest acquisition in property. An experienced ranger with falconry skills being well received, any further backstory not being needed as they agree to be paid moderately below going rates. The debts and contracts of the adventurer group automatically defaulting in time and the losses minor to those involved. New customers and contractors are plentiful on the Northwestern frontier after all, the gold and platinum still flowing with ease.
POV Change
I find myself in....interesting situations, I can't really do anything but go along with the flow of things. Hand in hand with my partner I move according to the music. The steps are well practiced on both sides but not really put to the test. Then again not many well be, not here at the debut event of the century. I am now twelve years into my second century and typically around this age do members of high society begin to meet. Fourteen cycles being the local denomination, really I find myself both mentally tired and exhilarated. A weird dichotomy. As the music continues to flow through the air I catch a whiff of perfume. A mix between what I would call apple and pumpkin. A Wasteria flower, a local symbol of prosperity and endurance for its ability to flower in even dark places.
I could certainly buy into the symbology, it is a good thing I add a metal mesh to my shoes. We are both pretending it is not happening just to keep up appearances. Her hands are quite clammy though, probably it is swirling around her head. The daughter of the host for this event is from what I have seen a girl that tries hard to act according to station. Not pretentious but also possessing a certain gravitas. The Bashara Family buys into the vein of nobility as an untouchable flower, one that can be admired but not gotten close to. In comparison my own family is one of a stormy and honed nature, considering the disciplined militant nature of the family it must be quite the disconnect for my own facade. Less a facade and more I do not believe in not acting as I want to when I can. I can not say I am exhilarated to dance and present myself like a puffed up mating bird but neither can I say there is not something to the romance and mystique to be at the center of such an event. So I will do well for the lady of the night at the least.
We are both dressed in fashionable but thankfully functional clothes, gilted and bejeweled but still nothing too heavy or restrictive for dancing. It is a string instrument song that is be played and intriguing mixed with flutes and light drums. It manages to combine into an exhilarating beat that ebbs and flows in its rhythm. Thankfully however despite its seeming complexity the dance sequence is simple, forward and back. It is more an exercise in following the flow across the floor with the crowd then individual work, in theory of course. While it was an interesting experience I would rather not wait for the metal mesh in my shoes to be bent too heavily. Once the dance is over everyone drifts off for a drink, there will be a second round where everyone has switched partners but for now we are expected to start interacting. Besides introducing our names no one has really talked at all.
As I take a good look at my partner for the evening I see more detail in the gown. The intricate embroidery and quilting catches the eye at first but the cut of the outfit is also interesting. A sleeveless and collared shirt is covered by a flowing silk dress that starts at just below the shoulder and extends to the feet. Wide sleeve cuffs but restraining silk ribbons along the arm along with an exterior corset and belt sash keep the dress from being too loose and prohibitive. While she does look good and I can appreciate it I feel nothing further. No passion, no lust, certainly no romance. It is the mind that appeals to me, not the body of either any I consider or my own instincts. I will judge if she is able to be given anything further in my considerations. First some words.
"I must say my lady Bashara that you that you make that dress bring out the beauty of your own self. The effort you put into dancing is nothing to scoff at either. I can see that in the future if you work hard that you will be as brilliant as a star" My tone neutral but a hint of 'truth' in it, the high tongue is a complex thing for court use.
She taps her hand which holds a folded fan and smiles politely at me, I can see a slight blush but nothing to indicate a disapportiante reaction. "Please sir, lady Bashara is my mother. Refer to me as lady Elenvaul. But what do I refer to you then, dear sir?" Her tone evoking a sense of 'innocent curiosity'. Chances are it is genuine but I can't be sure.
"You may refer to me as Esquire Hadirdal, my lady Elenvaul. I do intend to earn a knighthood first by my own hand" Ranks are tiring but important in life, perhaps there are systems out there that do without but not effectively in my experience.
"Oh do tell me more, I would have expected that as a scion of your house to have already been knighted" Some may think this line an insult but I can see genuine curiosity rather then derision. This skirts a few bits of familial lore that probably should not be given out if it can be helped though. Also just incredibly time consuming to repeat, no not something for a simple conversation.
"The knighthood customs of the house are different, one must prove themselves in combat and to the satisfaction of the head. Regardless of familial connections, it is the same for a commoner who has risen in station or a son of the head" I take another sip of the wine, some local berry and one that is supposed to be from the personal gardens of the head family. A spicy tint but one that goes away quickly to a more cool sensation.
"Does that mean it is difficult to rise up, I have never truly heard of many entering into the ranks of the knight orders" She puts away the fan in her off hand to a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress and gives more of her attention to me. Something of interest to her personally or just a piece of juicy gossip....
I decide that a bit of truth mixed with vague information would do. It is not truly secret family lore but neither do I want this to drag on too far. "Typically to enter the knighthood requires conflict, whether great acts of martial valour afield or in defense of the homeland. Admittedly peacetime reduces the number of knights though the family never grants knighthood with any ease. Any who earn it will indeed have their name be given out widely, the title is not one to be dangled like an Angler Bird even in the family after all. Not every scion of the family has ever gained it much less the house as a whole. Besides if I were to gain the knighthood by riding through fields of mountain dew and fragrant flowers like a fairy lord of the old tales I think I would rather stay out of such a thing"
She laughs lightly at the image before remarking that I would indeed look good riding upon a golden horse. We break into light laughter again at that before she gently steers subjects onto more simple topics. We banter back and forth before it is time to begin the next round of dancing. Three more sets with different partners each and more socialization. My next partners are also highly placed, the daughters of archcounts. The same song and dance so to speak as we talk, though I find myself interested in what one of them brought up as a discussion topic but that is for later. Things are finally calming down, so much work and this is what it is like as the youngest son.
What it must have been like for my older siblings I do not want to experience. A little voice in my head says to keep going with the socialization, to open up. Another bemoans the interruptions to important work. A third one chained down bays for violence, my own dominant voice simply is tired of all this. Jaded to a degree, yet without old age's wisdom and onset senility to get through the days.... Ah yes the hormones are getting to me. Not the crass ones but the depressive ones.
Hmmm, perhaps play the reclusive eccentric angle a bit stronger then. I cannot avoid everything but I certainly can get rid of some of the more superfluous events. As I mount my raptor to return I think about what I have accomplished here. Even if this was a mostly political event I did make some personal acquaintances. Nothing serious, more for personal curiosity but then again do all relationships have to be so? Growling a calming note to my mount I pat its scaly hide as it prowls down the road at speed. Quite the rambunctious thing, prone to snapping at anything and everything really, it is exasperating but at the same time not really a reason to go so far as to get rid of him.
POV Change
Upon a distant battlefield soldiers clashed against each other in a battle royale for honour and glory. Each in service of their lord and the flag they fought under. One the only ducal house still in existence in the Commonwealth, the beacon of all those who still followed the lead of the nobility. The other the newer way, one that was less concerned with personal titles but still held honour to great heights. Though it may be more appropriate to call them warriors regardless of affiliation for each sought out an opposite and engaged in a ferocious duel of martial skill. Each with their keen eye picked out a target and loosed a pointless arrow, then after an exchange forward with spear and sword they advanced.When one finally fell then the victor would seek out another to face.
Laurels to he who defeated thrice his self in opponents, accolades to he who defeated ten times in opponents. They were the elite, the scions of noble houses engaged in blade and mounted combat. Dazzling displays of agility in the swirling of sword and spear, in the dodging of blows and the wheeling of hoofs. Many rallied around banners and fought to see them kept high up, dishonour to he who let it be captured. Prestige to the man who defeated the champion who guarded the banner and took if for his own. But at the end of the day matters would come to an end and they who had fallen would get back up and stagger to the healer to see to their bruises. The victor of the match, the motif of a dragon emblazoned proudly as its soldiers raised up champions upon shields.
Away from the field as clean up occured sat two figures. The two men sat nursing porcelain cups of fine wine as they cooled down from the actions of before. As the two toasted to each other's merits in battle and those of their troops they turned to other matters. First they spoke of old friends and comrades from the academies, then they spoke of subjects closer to home.
"And then he and his friends pulled the wooden horse and went fast enough that they lost control on the path to the village. My little brother ended up riding it straight down the village center and almost to the other side of town. The wheels on the thing ended up wearing out so he slowed down but that was still what must have been a crazy five minute ride. The child was still clutching onto the reigns and his bloody toy sword when I finally reached him with his attendants"
As the young man narrating the story stopped from his charades to take a drink his friend spoke up. "Now man I know that it must have been one of the few exciting bits that happened then but knowing your parents something else must have come up Kie"
"Oh it did Emil but not really from them. My parents sent a note about how worried they were and scolding us, not that that did much. The real problem was the old Baronet that father had in charge of the area. The lady had been one of Father's clerks, actually I think she also worked for Grandmother before that. Even in her old age she had a great set of lungs to really dress us down, I think some of the servants were close to tears from it. You should of seen it, their faces were like this and this. She was a real terror when we were younger and you still have to keep an eye out but it was great to see her ripping into someone that was not me."
"Cheers to that" Taking a sip the man identified as Emil paused as his friend continued on with notable events in the social scene and then onto some of the things happening in the county of his home.
"My family has been doing some weird things recently, not sure why they are moving stuff around though it could just be some new infrastructure works. I know that the dikes along the Olgeu River System are being expanded. Heard that he met with Marquis Iberhad, something about your father organizing some work project. But enough about that boring stuff. How has your family been, haven't really heard much about them since the academy four cycles ago. I told you about all of mine so how has yours been" Taking a deep breath Emil seemed more subdued at this.
"Well to be frank...my younger brother has had the ... most interesting life of us all. Not a quiet life in some of the worst ways possible, you and I have been in a few rough situations with monsters and the occasional uppity peasant mob but.... Youngest brother has had actual outright assassination attempts on him. I don't know if they simply thought he would be the easiest to get being so young or if they chose him deliberately but, he has not had it easy. I don't think any of the rest of us had such things happen, at least with my siblings"
Gathering his thoughts he began again. "Though I know that Father and Mother's marriage and the events leading up to it had such crazy events. It was one dangerous scenario after another for them, but just why is it happening to him I don't.... He went out on his Heart hunt and ran into an entire unit of rogue human mercenaries for crying out loud a few seasons ago. At this point I don't really know much about my brother Fae, he is so withdrawn. I think because of all the danger he really keeps to himself, mother was always one to try to watch out for him and he really looked up to her but...." Taking a fortifying measure of wine the man continues, a worried and considering tone in his voice.
"Well the family is doing better now, mother is on the mend from a bad case of Wasting Cough. Luckily we managed to finally get some more medicine with the first harvest of the season so she is fine. Still weak since she was unlucky enough to catch it when the stores were at their low point. The rest of the family is really scattered though, eldest brother is somewhere in the western half of the Dukedom on some long term project and my sisters are all scattered around taking care of administrative duties. Well aside from Ama, father has her taking charge of exercising some of the Valdean units like we are here with the army forces. Don't really understand why" Seeing how his friend was quieting down Kie began speaking up.
"Yeah, I mean this is great to be able to get some action even if it is in exercises but.... Don't you feel that need to get out there and do something. Whether it be against the monsters or maybe even those uppity humans. I know whatever raiders they send get squashed but we could also just deal with them at the source. I mean it feels like something to coming, might just be all the shuffling our parents and their friends are going through but.... There is just this tension and the Corelands are not helping with their attitudes. Certainly could have us get some sort of notoriety that is not just how we are country yocals. Then those bastards in the core might shut up with their attitude"
" Hah... as if our parents would approve of it. Then again father has been devoting his attention to something else recently. I know that there are alot of his agents moving around for the past few cycles, alot of visits to some of the local high lords your father included like you said. He might even have roped my youngest brother into something as well. Right now he is preparing to move to some newly founded Barony. Apparently he helped organize some funds for a few explorers and merchants who settled down and now father decided to just stick him in charge. Probably also get him to get out and about, otherwise he sticks to the family grounds. Then again I heard he had his debut before that so this might be to give him more public prestige. It is a bit odd though in timing"
"You want to ask your parents what every thought they have to satisfy your curiosity then good luck with that" Kie pours the final measure of the wine into his friends cup, the two tipping their cups to each other in mocking salute at such a crazy action. The duo depart as the packing up has been done. The two are glad to have the company of old friends even with such heavy talk. Both have their own thoughts to mull over.
POV Change Third Person
Even though the majority of the Commonwealth is inhabited by elves or Aelvari by a more formal name there are others who have been allowed to be part of the domain. Distant tribes and petty kingdoms of many different species and races which have under the paternal watch of the Commonwealth agreed or were placed under the aegis provided and overseen by the superpower. The Commonwealth holds hegemony as the largest single polity on the major continent of Galahard in addition to significant colonial holdings composing roughly half of the other major continent of Calabav. In addition is Feda Calen, a large island between the two major continents and holds some of the largest naval facilities in the known world. The majority of the top ten known examples all under the aegis of the Commonwealth as well. Seven states compose the Commonwealth on the Galahard continent, four less developed colonial states upon Calabav and Feda Calen gives the Commonwealth a population over three hundred million and the title of most powerful military power.
The only other comparable peer are the many disparate human kingdoms and empires, at least in consideration to the northwestern portion of Galahard. All waging war against the other for dominance and influence. A cyclical era of war punctuated by harsh winters that ground all to a halt before renewing once more to salt the earth with bone and blood. It is humans with their rapid population growth and mix of talents that provide the major bulk of the population in this portion of the world. From over three dozen different countries now only five distinct polities exist. However conflict still exists within these polities as rogue nations form and collapse while revolts are common. From an outsiders view this is hell.
For those within the warzones, there is a different attitude. It was life as usual for most. Generations had fought and died, generations more would. In the past a proliferation of cults and religions dwelled within such a realm, mercenaries and tyrants roamed the land on the lookout for easy pickings. Offering protection to scattered villages and towns from monsters, bandits, and themselves in exchange for goods and services. Some grew ambition and crowned themselves the king of thousands and then tens of thousands. Inevitably they clashed with others for dominance, some crashed and burned in mutual pyres.
Others emerged battered but greater then they were before. It was this forge that formed the current nations. Mercenary lords stilled roamed the land, still believing that they could grow stronger. But greater and greater stretches of land were under the watchful eye of organized soldiers and competent leaders. The population faced fewer issues bringing in a harvest that would keep them fed through the long winter, hope and food leads to a larger and larger population. For those born under the current relatively peaceful era it good, one would pay their taxes for actual protection rather then the current despot with a small army. An optimism for the future, where hard work would lead to prosperity. A potent thing....
POV Change
The sound...the sound. It is so muted. Yet I can remember/see/listen. My hand is holding onto a being, their face blurred yet I remember it being bared in surprise and then pain as I impaled them with my short sword in my main hand. Tossing the body at another I watch it explode, the Catalyst Fluid Rune engraved into their body detonating any remaining mana in the body. A momentary path is formed and I exploit it. Snatching the lance from my Arsenal Halo I gather my strength and magic might to unleash a blast to widen the gap. Body parts turn to ash and I rush through the cloud that forms, my passing barely disturbing the particles.
The surroundings are blurry as well, they should not have been. But what is ahead of me is not, I crest atop the hill of bodies and survey the surroundings. The battle is still ongoing, more than a million combatants clashing to the death. Surrender is not an option, neither is retreat. The slight ping in my mind and I know that my comrade have gathered around me, their own armour just as drenched in blood as my own. The Immortalis Armour absorbing the blood to repair itself, our weapons thrumming with arcane melodies.
Before we can decide where we are needed the world tremors. Not just the ground or the air, no it is the very fabric of reality. Our gazes both corporeal and magical lock on in a nanosecond. There... It is so pristine, so crisply clear unlike everything else. My hand points, I remember/will it doing so. The 'angel' its metallic body scored and cracked but unrelenting. Its sword in a resemblance of my own action impaling its foe. A howling beast, worshipped as a minor god by hundreds of millions now screaming its last. The cracks in reality spread and then smooth out as its will is broken, overtaken by the 'angel' and its own Thaumaturgy. Rifts bleed into existence as the remains of the now fallen god are chained and impaled to the ground. The deathcry of a god echoing for eternity. Not allowed to even dream in peace.
The dimensional barriers now under the sway of the Children, the rifts break open at last. Rows of Anointed and Avatars flow out augmenting our forces. Anointed Sergeants leading smaller packs of lesser Avatars as their presence bends reality to their own understanding. Enemies are dashed and diced to ribbons and smears. Our momentary physical shock is ended as our Auras finally break through the sheer pressure waves that held us down, the clash of Deities and their servants should not be a place for mortals. Yet we still stand, our bodies and arms forged to face such a threat. As the rain of thaumaturgic might descends there are still active stationary jammers. These will be our task. I raise my hand and we rush forward.
I charge straight through the wooden door, the surroundings made clear. The target chapel is filled, intelligence being right for once. I can see the shock and then dawning fear of the inhabitants. That is before my Arsenal Halo unleashes its might, the orbiting plaques that form the main body unleashing blasts of magic that rend and debilitate. My own halberd sweeps cleanly through bodies, the Blood Argentum alloy almost thirsting to cleave through flesh and metal. What feeble protections they have mundane and magical are rendered inert. The few heretic paladins around meet their ends quickly and the chaff are taken care of by the following troops. Blackened armour crafted to conceal and shroud as blades meet joints, blood flowing jerkily as the blades drink. My own task is complete as I grab the heretic priestess that started all this and throw her to the ground, my boot upon her back.
The chapel is cleared as I gaze upon my assigned immediate superior. Unlike everything around 'she' is clearly defined. Words echo in my mind, they were never there and are ever there. Impressions and willpower, the sentence is clear and smooth with its continuity. 'She' appreciates my services as assigned by the Elder Council to clear up some of the unfortunate messes of the Imperium. "Kill them all, let us sort out the recoverable later. Fare thee well Blood Guardian" The metal flows. A caress of flesh like texture from melting steel and gold as it flows away into thin air. My gauntlets pile bunker engages and the heretic priestess meets her end. Flicking off the blood I straighten up and place my hand on my sword pommel as I leave, my task done now in support of our allies. As I walk out I feel a hand upon my shoulder.
I look up from my kneeling position. I felt dubious about receiving this award but my superiors had ordered me to accept it. I feel the background noise of the hymns that always echo in such areas, the faint pressure of shifting air and mana currents as the Avatars move around. Eventually as I hear the recitation of my previous acts and accomplishments I feel an.......indescribable sensation as the chain of plaques is set over my shoulder. Like a shoulder sash of cloth it hangs in a loop around my body. It is not just a physical thing, it fades in and out like an opaque shadow. The Gorget Chain it is called now attached to my soul, a construct created by a being higher up the totem pole of existences. An eternal record of my services and a potent object of power. This is but a representation, yet not. The Eternal Library, the Omniscient Record. It is..... The choir listens, the singer dances, the reader tastes, the mother loves you too. The light sings, the incense beckons, the smile denies...for now.
My eyes open to see the darkness of my room. The manor.... That was all just dreams of my memory. No.... I can see/feel it. My mind throws off the shackles of sleep, instinctevely I activate my defenses..... No, that should have been impossible. This body should not be able to handle the myriad of different spells required to use what I just did. The Aegis Shroud was meant for use in the most intense of combat, the strain should have caused my body to suffer total organ failure as the feedback devastated it. Clenching my hand I do not feel too differently from the day before, yet that is the fine detail. There is something there.
If dead gods can dream then what imaginings can living ones have. The Gorget Chain fades away, only a brief ethereal sensation. Enough to know it is there and....I am not forgotten. The damages healed to my soul, no they were not damages but rather my soul missing something that was integral to it. I was wrong, a faint sensation of elation at my inevitable final death no long hanging over my mind like a Sword of Damocles. Then it halts again, a faint sensation of amused laughter that I can taste and feel. May you live in interesting times indeed.