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LLOTF - Chapter 39: Second Vault and Realm knowledge
🕑 Added 2024-12-21 19:11:49 +0000 UTCTristan turned to where he had set the vial that Felicity had gathered when they left Bhant’s Hold – stealing the blood from his father’s kill. Tristan popped the cork off and slurped down the thick, goopy liquid.
He felt a rushing wind blow past his face, and inside his torso he felt a swirl of energy – not cool, like his mana was, but instead motion. A rushing wind akin to a tempest. He smiled and thought, well, it looks like I can drink any dragon blood and drink it down. Note to self, make sure to ask about dragon’s blood whenever I visit an alchemist’s shop.
Closing his eyes and visualizing his mana core, he saw glimmering, green flecks floating – they were not nearly as prominent as the gold and crimson from drinking the wyrm-sized, Arch dragon vial from his grandfather’s conquest. Looks like drinking wyrm-sized dragon blood is going to provide the best protection against elemental damage, he thought. Still no clue what wind would count as.
He turned to The Matriarch, who was regarding him with a curious look. “You are an interesting hybrid, Lord Tristan.”
Tristan nodded, “Do you know what wind elementalism is or entails?”
“Manipulation of the wind,” she replied. “Such as sending surging gusts out against foes to bowl them over, or even sharpened, compressed blades of air that slice foes. There are more mundane uses, of course.”
“Then I would guess this blood of a wind dragon makes me more resilient to the more offensive spells,” Tristan replied as he began walking to the center of the Queen’s Wood and descended. The Matriarch was just a step behind him. Wanting to fill the gap of time walking down to the vault, Tristan glanced back at The Matriarch and spoke, “I was able to spin my core in two directions at once. The top half was reverse spinning, sucking in mana, while the bottom half did its usual spin and pushed the mana out. Can you tell me more about that?”
The Matriarch smiled, “Yes. That is a difficult thing for most magecraft users to do, taking in mana whilst also using it. Normally, let’s say, if you were in the Mortal Realm, you would be using up the mana in your core, emptying it like you would a container of water. Then, you would have to wait for it to refill or drink a mana elixir to recover – refilling that vessel. After, you could use it again. But, with the two-direction mana core spin, you could spend the mana as you obtain it from that external source. As if you had an open valve on that vessel.” They reached the ground floor and descended into the root-filled underground tunnels.
Tristan frowned, “Then I don’t see the benefit to being able to spin my core both directions unless I’m chugging mana elixirs which I wouldn’t do on a whim. And I bet it would be hard to do in a fight.”
The Matriarch smiled, “You can use it to train. Spin the core the way you would to cast a spell, but let it vent out of you and become ambient mana in the air – which in your case, almost instantly turns to ice. But, with a reverse-spin on the top-half as you described, you could suck in your own ambient mana before that happened. It would most likely accelerate your mana capacity growth and be far more effective than just spinning your core while traveling.”
That does sound useful, Tristan thought. And I suppose if there is a mana heavy environment I find myself in, I could do the same method of using mana while sucking it in. At least I know that I can do it now. Or…if there’s something like a dragon that can heal, and I use grandfather’s spell on it…I might be able to get a healing spell type – like rejuvenation. The prospect of being able to train faster than before whilst traveling and obtaining more spell types via his family’s unique capability was filling him with an excitement he could barely contain.
They arrived at the first vault door – still open – and Tristan knelt, his knees finding the grooves on the floor as he put his hands on it. Alright. Let’s try this. He spun the top of his mana core in the ‘suck’ direction, and the bottom half in the opposite, pushing the mana through his body and into his arms.
To his surprise, he was not able to absorb the ambient mana that he felt like a palpable fog. “I don’t think I can funnel the mana of the Realm into this,” Tristan stated as he pulled his hands back.
The Matriarch clicked her tongue, “Your ancestors must have anticipated someone would try that. It was worth an attempt.”
Tristan placed his hands back on it, “Let’s see if my current mana capacity is enough.” He closed his eyes and envisioned his mana core; the brilliant silver crossed by two lines – one icy-blue, and one crimson and gold. He spun it as fast as he could – all in the direction to push the mana out. He directed the flow into his arms, and it was not just cooling like before. It was lukewarm; with little bursts of heat, then cold, interchanging back and forth.
The spiral on the door filled up to the brim and slid upward. The Matriarch smiled, “Well done. Let us see what your ancestors left behind.”
Tristan was tired from the expenditure, but he rapidly reverse-spun his core and filled it up again. Standing, he walked into the chamber. It was circular, just like the last one – with a glowing, dangling orb suspended from the root structure above on top of a covered pedestal. To his left, across the pedestal, and to his right were doors with differing numbers of rings. To the left was a door with three rings, to his right, a door with four rings, and across from him was a door with nine rings.
The Matriarch followed him in, “Intriguing. It would appear that each door of this vault requires a different mana capacity amount. You have bypassed the one ring and two ring doors.” She glanced at him, “Perhaps it relates to your mana capacity? That would be my guess.”
Tristan was drawn to the pedestal and walked up to it. It was a small root that jutted up before spreading out in a graceful, almost flower-petal surface. A more ornate version of the same object in the prior room. But there was not just a bit of parchment atop it, instead, there was a carved, stone crate. It was fully smooth, save for the slight gaps on the sides which accommodated his fingers. He tried to lift it – but it would not budge with a simple lifting motion. “This is heavy,” he muttered as he took up a wider stance, braced his legs, and heaved with all of his might.
The stone covering lifted up just enough for him to slide his armored fingers under the gap, and then he was able to shove up to his palm, and eventually his forearm. With a final heave, he was able to wedge his elbow in.
The Matriarch came over and chuckled, “Now what do you plan on doing?”
Tristan frowned, “I’m gonna keep shoving my arm forward until I can tilt the damned thing over.”
She laughed and the sound was enchanting, “Or you could ask for help.”
Tristan let out a grunt as he felt the weight of the stone box on his arm, “Sure, help would be fine.”
She reached out to touch it and as soon as her fingers touched the object, there was a jolt of green energy that she rapidly recoiled from, hissing in pain. “Damn! That stings.” She blew on her fingers and shook them. “Sorry, Lord Tristan. Looks like you’re on your own.”
Tristan put his other fist on the top of the pedestal and tucked the thumb inside the fingers. “Ich beschwöre eine Wand aus Eis herauf.” (I summon forth a wall of ice).
He spun his core a little bit, wanting a steady, small stream – and the ice wall grew; pushing the stone lid up and off of his arm. He poured more mana into it and eventually it toppled backward, slamming on the ground on the opposite side of the pedestal. On the surface, Tristan saw another scroll, and a pair of gloves. The gloves were made of some white tree, with tracing of the icy-blue along in a pattern of branches and roots.
The Matriarch looked at the gloves and let out a brief gasp, “Oh, those are Zeltana’s gloves! Part of her armor.” She looked between the gloves and Tristan’s hands, “I wonder if they would fit you?”
Tristan reached for the rolled up parchment and unfurled it, reading the Elvish words in his mind.
Child of the frozen dew
and inheritor of the blood renewed,
You have grown like a tree with new root
soon to blossom at last, and bloom.
Your second reward for obtaining might
is to grow plants with a light
touch of your fingertips,
and create new wonders that will eclipse
the work of those who came before.
Only you will reveal what lies in store.
My armor and weapons that will make secure
the denizens of the realm once more.
Those who become your subjects
will proclaim a desire to annex
Lost Realms to add to your own.
Follow your heart as you make yourself known.
The Fey Realm is under your control
and I would be remiss to not extoll
the virtues that have led you this far.
Continue your growth, and shine like a star.
Tristan picked up the gloves and tucked them into his belt. “What does it mean about the annexation of Lost Realms?”
The Matriarch’s face was a tight, unreadable line. “The Lost Realms are what we would call places that lost their Realm Protector. The…anchoring being who helps keep the whole place together. If I, for instance, were to perish, then the Fey Realm would grow unstable until a new Realm Protector took over to stabilize it.”
She tapped her fingers against her chin, “Imagine, if you will, that I am like the captain of a ship. If the captain dies, the ship is going to be directionless until a new captain takes over. Without a captain for too long the ship is going to crash or go through food stores too quickly. Does that analogy make sense?”
Tristan nodded as he looked at the other vault doors, quickly reverse-spinning his mana core to refill his mana. “My grandfather slew the Arch Dragon called Silthenax who used to rule the Elemental Realm of Fire; but that was fifty years ago.”
“The most recent one to die was called Amisgur, and there has not been a new captain of that ship in ten years. I would expect the Realm to become a Lost Realm in the next forty years or so.” She shrugged, “Some wyrm-sized dragon will take over soon enough, I’m sure.”
Tristan gestured to the entryway and left the vault, heading up the tree to the boughs as they conversed, “But that still doesn’t tell me what a Lost Realm is…or how we could annex it.”
The Matriarch sighed, “Lost Realms, to use my analogy from before, are ships that crashed into a rocky shoreline. They are irreparable and will eventually decay to nothing. But they can be salvaged. What Zeltana’s scroll describes is the process of grafting a Realm. It increases the size of the active Realm.”
Tristan nodded and pondered her words. So, if we had a way to locate these Lost Realms, we could make this place bigger. The problem before was too many Elves; hence the Great Exodus. But…if the Realm was big enough, then maybe I could bring them back – if they wanted to come back. He glanced back at The Matriarch as they reached the top boughs, “What happens to creatures inside of Lost Realms?”
“They die.”
Well, Tristan thought, I can focus on this Realm grafting business later. I have more pressing matters. I need to get stronger, reconvene with Felicity and Obadai Grimtome, and figure out this whole assassin plot. Tristan walked over to the artifice bench, “You have that collar the wyrm was wearing?”
The Matriarch reached into her storage dimension and pulled out the big collar. It was made of a brass-like metal – a deep, orange hue – with intricate patterns etched into it; but they were just decorative. The object was the size of a horse-drawn cart, and The Matriarch set it down on the ground in the midst of the crafting stations.
Tristan knelt and began the preparation for Discern Artifice; grabbing ink, a quill, and the leaf-parchment. After setting that up, he put his left hand on the collar, with the index and middle fingers touching one another, the thumb curled into the palm, the ring finger under that to the center of the palm, and the pinky finger to the outside edge as far as possible.
“Je cherche à savoir ce que fait cet objet. Remplissez mon esprit de compréhension et laissez l'effet se répandre en moi. Distiller la réponse à l'ustensile que je tiens dans ma main.” (I seek the knowledge of what this object does. Fill my mind with understanding, and let the effect flow through me. Distill the response to the utensil in my grip).
---
Collar of Regeneration
Regenerate (Seventh) [Rejuvenation]
By channeling mana into the collar, the user mends any injury inflicted upon them in the past ten minutes. This will even regrow limbs or appendages.
---
He handed the paper to The Matriarch, “I think its too big for me to make use of. I entrust this to you.”
She shifted to her full size and put it on. “It is a little tight,” she muttered. But, her neck slimmed down as she shifted her body mass. “Thankfully, that is not an issue for me. But I am curious how this will affect me when I shift back to my humanoid form.” She did so, and the collar clattered to the platform. “Ah, a shame. I will ensure it is kept close by.” It vanished into her extradimensional storage space.
Tristan nodded, “And we learned something new about artifice; items made with it won’t change size to suit the wielder.” He grabbed the gloves from his belt, walked over to the artifice bench with his supplies, and repeated the spell.
---
Gloves of the Growth Shaper
Plant Shaping (Second) [Flora]
By channeling mana into the gloves, the user may mold and shape any plants into a desired form.
---
Huh, Tristan thought, so that’s how they were able to mold all the rooms and whatnot. He stripped off his gauntlets and the gloves underneath. Then, he tried to wriggle his hands into the gloves. To his pleasant surprise, they fit perfectly. As if they were made for him. He looked over at The Matriarch who was watching him with an enthused expression. “What?”
“If you were female, you would be an exact replica of Zeltana. Your height, build – minus the torso and larger thighs – is almost identical. Even the ear length, the eye color…if I did not see your prior half-Elven form, and just saw you as you are now, I would have mistaken you for her having screwed up some type of spell.”
Tristan pulled the gloves off and set them aside, “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it was meant as one. She was the…the best person I knew,” The Matriarch replied, wistfully.
Tristan stripped off his armor and set it on the artifice counter along with his sword and all his non-underclothing gear. “Well, I’m going to take a bath and then get to artificing. I have that dagger, the sheath, and my greatbow to ensorcell.”
