Luke Chmilenko
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Starbreaker: Volume 2 - Chapter 28
🕑 Added 2025-01-01 17:00:04 +0000 UTC“There are some that say the only constant in life is death. That inevitability is the most potent force at work in all of the universe. As potent as gravity but pulling us towards our end through time rather than to the dirt through weight. To those people I point to the undead. As prevalent as societal collapse due to Eidolon incursion is, second only to that comes the end of a world through necromancy. Death affinity magic is much maligned in modern society as a result of this, with good reason given its potential for such widespread catastrophe. But as with most things in the study of magic, the danger is not from the magic itself so much as its misuse, and in the case of necromancy, the danger is the loop. Mages calling upon death affinity mana have within their grasp the capability to create an infinite supply for themselves. With each spell they cast, death can be made, and from that death they can extract an equal or greater amount of mana to fuel their next spell. Everywhere that there has been life, death affinity mana persists in the aftermath. Small wonder that this exploit within the usually closed system of magic has ended so many worlds.”
—The Second Apocalypse, Xiodalus Blaudud
The booze had been flowing freely in TiChi’s bar, and the woman in question, a fiend who stood as large as Quartermaster Chul while retaining a more curvaceous rather than blocky form was currently pouring some sort of smoking liqeur directly into the mouth of Anak where he lay on the bar. The surrounding recruits cheered as he diligently gulped down every drop. Sylvas had a sinking suspicion that he was going to be carrying the young man to whatever bunk he’d been assigned that night.
“Devildrinker!” Came a chorus from the crowd as he walked in. Kaya really needed to learn when to stop speaking sometimes.
He gave a friendly wave to the amassed recruits, only realizing a moment late that a solid half of them weren’t his friends from Blackhall, but others dressed in the colors of the other campuses of Strife. Apparently his entirely incorrect reputation preceded him.
Ironeyes hooked an arm around his back and dragged him over to the bar, pushing through the crowd. The overall décor was a little unusual, a hodge-podge of elements from various cultures that seemed not to have been chosen so much as it had accumulated over time, filling out the walls and roof of the designated chamber assigned to this business in a manner not entirely dissimilar to Chul’s hoarding. There were souvenirs from a dozen different worlds pinned to the walls, a hollowed-out skull plate of an eidolon had been converted into a light fitting that dangled just over one of the big gaming tables where Gharia and a few Najash from the other campuses were engaged in some sort of game that involved hitting balls with the points of sticks. He would have to approach her and make peace and apologies soon, but for now, he had other plans.
“Give this lad the strongest thing on the menu!” Ironeyes bellowed over the music and rabble. “He’s been outdrinking everyone on campus until now, and I want to see him glerkt himself before the night’s out!”
TiChi looked Sylvas up and down with a gaze that was less appraising and more amused at the idea this tiny man could hold his liquor. Still, she turned away from the now choking Anak to fetch together a few bottles off the shelves behind her.
“I really don’t want to…” Sylvas was cut off by her disarming shark-smile.
“Do us all a favor sweetmeat, if you feel like you’re going to glerkt yourself, come find me. Maybe I’ll do it for you.” A salacious wink left Sylvas too flustered to reply, and even if he could have, the whooping of the surrounding recruits would have drowned him out anyway.
Glerkt joined the list of dwarvish words he would have to learn for his own safety.
The drink that she mixed up was made from quite normal looking bottles, but when it arrived in an ice-frosted glass in front of him, it was undergoing some sort of chemical process that had all the fluids inside roiling and flickering through a rainbow kaleidoscope of colors. He looked up at TiChi with no small amount of trepidation, but she just laughed in his face and moved on to serving the next customer. An illusory construct like a sending sprang up in front of him as he reached for the drink. “Start a tab?”
He fumbled at it until it accepted his answer as, “No.”
It responded, “Pay up.”
A brush of his hand against the construct informed him that his account had been charged 0.5 gold. A princely sum for a single drink, but he supposed that some of the ingredients must have been quite expensive to produce such a singularly imposing beverage.
“Bottoms up, lad!” Ironeyes roared. All the other recruits turned on Sylvas, chanting, “Sigil! Sigil! Sigil!”
He truly had not intended on indulging any more than was necessary to get Kaya safely stowed away in the bar so that he could start exploring the station without her ongoing complaints about missing out on the fun, but they had cornered him. All of Kaya’s earlier hangover seemed to have vanished by now. He sighed and brought the drink up to his lips for a sip.
Acrid and chemical would have been his guesses as to the flavor of the bubbling potion before it touched his lips, but now he almost gagged on the sweetness of it. Fruits he’d never tasted, nectar so sweet it went all the way around to sharp again, his whole face went numb almost as soon as it passed his lips, and then that same hazy feeling spread out across his whole body as it dissipated. “Ugh.”
This was met with some laughter, but the chant went on. “Sigil. Sigil. Sigil.”
There was only one way out of this, and it lay at the bottom of the glass. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, Sylvas tilted his head back and began to glug it down.
The cheers and jeers of the bar seemed to fade away as he swallowed it. It burned all the way down his throat and he could feel it in his stomach like a lightning storm. What have I gotten myself into now. His hands, still clasped desperately around the glass began to shake, but he couldn’t stop now. Finding the courage to start drinking it again might have taken all day if he didn’t finish it now.
Slowly the cheers faded until eventually the only sound in the whole bar was the tinny music being piped in and his gulping.
As the glass emptied, there was an expectant silence, then he set it back down on the bar and cheers erupted once more. Kaya had an arm around Luna and they were both jumping up and down in excitement. Anak was staring at him with wide-eyed terror. Havran’s mouth hung open. Even the recruits from the other campuses that he’d never met before were staring at him in awe. Apparently, some comment was in order. “I think I prefer whiskey.”
That set them all off laughing and cheering again, a press of strangers all offering to buy him a whiskey, friends faces blurring as the poison he’d just chugged started to spread through his system. He started picking his way through the crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” He was surprised to have almost walked into Bortan.
He was going to embarrass himself very badly if he didn’t get out of the bar quick. Knocking the drink back may have impressed everyone but regret had been the chaser to all that alcohol. “I’m going… I’m uh… toilet?”
Bortan’s face split into an uncharacteristic grin, then he gave Sylvas a slap on the shoulders. “Come find me if you need some ice for your whiskey.”
The ladders to the lower decks were liable to cause Sylvas a problem, as his fancy new boots kept trying to get away from him as he stumbled out of the crowds and into the blessed quiet of the hallway. He followed around the curve of it, not heading back towards the center of the citadel, but continuing around the region of it set aside for retail and recreation, eventually stopping when it became clear that there wasn’t going to be a handy bench anywhere for him to flop down on.
Just a few days ago, he probably would have been terrified of losing so much of his precious control over himself, but with the walls in his head torn down on purpose, there was no danger of them crumbling now that he wasn’t concentrating.
Given the absence of seats, Sylvas found one of the curving support beams arrayed out around the station’s thoroughfares and leaned heavily against it. He had plans for the day, and he wasn’t going to let one stupid drink spoil them.
Time would work the cocktail from his system, but he didn’t have so much time that he could afford to waste it. Before long Kaya or one of the others would come looking for him and drag him back into the festivities. He pressed his eyes closed and tried to think through the banks of fog washing over him. Sleep would make it seem quicker but cost him actual time. Even inebriated, he could use his Paradigms to manage himself. Use Lockmind to fill in blanks that his hampered awareness couldn’t, use Clearmind to lock down the symptoms of drunkenness so that he could navigate unimpeded. There were options available to him. Alternatively, he could go and find whatever passed for medical care on the station, see if the miraculous hangover cure he’d been given before could handle the effects of alcohol on his system while he was still inebriated. It wouldn’t be free, but then, what other use did he have for his money. It wasn’t as though he had any life beyond his work.
He opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn’t. There was a man standing in front of him, a little hazy through the drink. Pale hair, silvery blonde, close cropped, skin darker than Sylvas, but that was hardly difficult. “This is Sigil?”
The form in front of Sylvas seemed to waver. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision. This man, he was wearing the all-white uniform. He knew who Sylvas was, which was nice, because Sylvas currently wasn’t entirely sure of that himself. He probably should have said something more in keeping with his reputation, but all he managed was, “Hello.”
“I am Malachai.” He offered a hand to shake, and as confused as Sylvas was in that moment, he reached out and took it, only to find that this Malachai’s grip was like a vice. “First student of the Whitehall of Strife. Just as you are the first among your rabble.”
The pain in his hand helped Sylvas focus on what was being said. “The rankings don’t really…”
“The rankings mean nothing.” Malachai sniffed, contemptuously. “Only power matters. And you burn with it.”
Reluctantly, the other man let go of his hand, and Sylvas felt like someone had just cut the line to his anchor, rocking back against the pillar once more. What was he meant to say to something like that? “Thanks?”
Malachai stepped in closer, filling the space that Sylvas had just fallen back from. “The way that you demolished Hammerheart, took his greatest strengths and turned them against him, psychologically manipulated him past his breaking point to maximize your every advantage. It was masterful. You are the only combatant that I’ve seen among the Ardent’s next generation to show anything resembling the necessary commitment. An example to us all. When the time comes, I look forward to destroying you.”
Comments
Deon Mincy
Who's this asshole and why couldn't he wait to introduced himself when Sylvas is sober?
