Draith
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Chapter 70 - Judgement Day
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 14:00:07 +0000 UTC"High Magus Excellium Baneth of the Great Council will take the stand," the overblown court bailiff called, his voice enchanted to near perfection.
Near perfection.
Baneth brushed off his sleeves, admitting that he perhaps could’ve taken a few moments more to ensure he was presentable. His poor daughter Emilia did insist these things mattered. And Baneth was few things, if not a doting father.
Shaking his head, he pushed open the great doors, floating over the deliberately oversized steps that led from the outer edge of the cavernous audience chamber. He was hardly going to let his rivals ruin his moment with something so petty as not resizing the steps for a typical goblinoid. Not today.
So what if they succeeded in bringing him up on false charges. He'd done it. Even as they brought him to stand before this farce of a trial, the Pillars were rising across the Four Worlds. Soon, even those born with only the faintest wisp of the divine spark would be safe to live their lives, no matter which of the Four Worlds they were born on.
Those like his dear heart, Emilia.
He strode through the massive hall, setting down at the bottom of the stairs, his footsteps echoing across the room, much like his actions echoed across the great chains that bound the Four Worlds together.
Baneth had learned long ago that the courts prohibited flying to the stage itself as a way to make those who approached feel lesser.
Perhaps for a lesser Magus, it would've worked.
But even before he'd designed the Pillars, before he’d revolutionized magic as they knew it, he'd been the top of his field. A Magus with few equals. One of the rare Magus Excellium.
And he could see it in the crowd, their faces as he refused to waver even an inch. As his aura held back the suppressive aura of the five Dragon-souled who sat before him. That he stood above them, even when he walked like an unsouled mortal.
Baneth ascended the stand, the small stone circle barely raised above the floor, and still far below the court. Another attempt to diminish the presence of those brought to stand before them.
"High Magus Excellium Baneth," the woman in the center said once he'd reached his position. "You stand accused of the crime of high treason."
Baneth didn't say anything. At this point, he was expected to listen. It was tradition, as much as law. And so he did, as the woman rattled off the supposed evidence of his crimes.
He almost snorted, when she listed off the purge of the cradle city Ganith. Even he, a man who spent his days finding ways to bring magic to new heights, knew that she was responsible for that event personally. It was unfortunate that his opponents included those who sat in judgement of him, but it wasn't unforeseen.
One didn't survive five thousand years by being unprepared. Not outside the cradle cities.
It took her almost half an hour to complete the list. Her voice had droned on, barely pausing for breath. Baneth would've shaken his head, had it not been counter to his purposes. Two thousand years old, and she still didn't know how to put on a show. He wouldn't be surprised if half the audience had fallen asleep or simply stopped watching.
With the list concluded, she asked exactly the same question the court always asked, "How do you respond?"
"I believe you forgot one," Baneth said, interlacing his fingers and pushing them out with a satisfying crack. It was nice how some things never tired him.
For the first time since he'd walked in, the woman showed something other than stoic disinterest. Leaning forward by a fraction of an inch, she said, "Oh? What crime shall you add to your tally?"
"There is a simple axiom I learned in my youth. Rules are made to be broken. I’ve always thought it rather the opposite. The broken are made to be ruled,," Bathen said, the ripples he'd been spreading throughout the room suddenly visible as blue strands with specs of light in them, so thick was the mana Bathen wielded. “And none are more broken than those sitting on this oh so grand a council.”
"You cannot-" the woman cried, pushing to her feet.
She never got to finish her sentence. In the time it took her to say those few words, Bathen had simply folded space over itself. The five Dragon-souled of the Great Court would never purge a cradle city again. It was a travesty that it had taken him so long to arrange this event.
"You'll find there is nothing that I cannot do," Bathen said, turning to smile upward at the court recording device. A device that had been recording his memories since the moment he'd stepped into the chamber.
With a wink, Bathen disappeared.
Across the Four Worlds, the great Pillars rose.
Ro'an. Pel'or. Vin'tru. Sel'ta.
All would soon know the grace of the first Magus Protecius.
The final moments of the memory had felt different. Like they'd been stamped on afterwards.
Wasn't sure how that worked, but then, I wasn't sure how any of it worked.
"Ah. A very valuable shard, if not a unique one," Keeper said, its face still on the other side of the shard. "Not many of these have survived. It has been… many years, since last I feasted upon this memory."
As Keeper said this, it held the chip forward and deposited it in my hand. "Wait, does that mean you're not giving me anything for it."
"Has your hunger been stoked, young omnivore? How many secrets did you learn from this simple shard?"
"Not much that'll help me with my work. Lot's of fancy talk about the Pillars and some ancient society that doesn't exist anymore," I said, crossing my arms. Really, it had been interesting, but I was serious. Other worlds. Some titles that might be related to the Magus Dominuns. A mage capable of destroying Dragon-souled with spatial magic. All very interesting. None of it what I needed.
Keeper stepped back, its four lower limbs setting back into place in the doorframe. "For me, it is the opposite. I find myself sated. And the knowledge in this shard has been set long ago. Even if you find another containing the same, I shall award you the equivalent of nine regular shards."
"Wait… are you serious?"
"Deadly," Keeper said, it's voice taking on an unusual edge as it lay the remaining jade chips on the floor before it. In addition, it pulled free one of its ribs free with a crack, laying it down atop them. Then its arms snapped into place within its storage frame, only the neck remaining free. "You will find your spells within the bone. Simply hold it up to the light of the crystal to feast."
"What about my other…" I trailed off as the light faded out of Keeper's eyes. I knew it'd be a few hours at least before it recovered enough to continue. "At least it left me the spells."
Stepping forward, I picked up the jade chips, putting them in a pouch, then storing the pouch in my ring. The rib I held onto as I descended to the crystal chamber. Sure enough, when I held the rib up towards the crystal, spell glyphs appeared in the air behind it.
None of the Tethered in the chamber reacted, so I figured it was some sort of mental projection. I'd have to ask Keeper how it did it. Maybe I could get the spell for that too.
I moved over to Bevel's nook, sitting on the edge as I scribed the spell Scribe's Second Quill. It was a more complicated first Order spell, requiring two spell slots. For the benefits, that felt like a low price to pay. The spell required sufficient wood, plant mulch or… skin… to print the contents on, though it would transmute them to fit. That last material was a mite bit creepy. Especially since my own skin was apparently a valid source.
Needed to be careful about that. Already sacrificed enough skin to pulling wrenches over the years.
As soon as I had the spell finished, I went to Mistvale. Most of the Tethered were gone, though there was still a small crew felling the last of the damaged great trees. And stacked nearby was more wood than I could turn into books in a year.
My mana was full as I approached the stack, though I wasn't looking for the intact pieces. The spell could transform sawdust into a book, so that's what I sought out. It didn't take long before I was printing a basic compendium.
Bevel found me there, when it was time for her lesson. She picked up one of the books, flipping it open. The sawdust had become a sort of laminate, the jigsaw pattern barely visible behind the text and diagrams.
"What is a right triangle?" Bevel read out, her eyes shifting to the opposite page. "Are these for tonight’s lesson?"
"They can be, if you'd like. But they're not for magic. Not exactly," I replied as I added another book to the stack.
"What're they for?" Bevel asked, returning the book she'd been reading to its stack and picking up another from a different stack.
I looked about the clearing, then glanced towards the industrious Tethered. Tethered who were almost universally illiterate, but were clearly very capable and hard working people. People who deserved a chance for more.
"They're the first step in starting a school."
Comments
RJD
TFTC
BookDragonling
Yeah! Educate those peasants. Git Gud
Jason Hardman
TYFTC! Even though he's not forcing his growth like they did before, I presume he's still growing. It's not mentioned much. Will he be able to gain more than five first order spell slots, or are they always five of every tier as he grows? Presumably the history lesson shows that it's possible to cast magic without being limited to what you have slotted and without casting via his grimoire or other implement. Maybe the memory of the trial, on deeper analysis, will reveal some spatial mana casting tricks. Can only hope.
