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Rise of the Archon: Book 2, Chapter 70
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 05:50:12 +0000 UTCThe room was silent. I expected more of a reaction, but the Speakers and Keeper kept their emotions mostly hidden. However, a few let hints slip past their masks of apathy.
One, a woman with graying hair and dark skin, leaned forward in her seat with a faint smile on her lips. Another, a man in his forties, regarded me with raised eyebrows, and the Speaker sitting beside him was rubbing her chin with one hand.
The performance had been a carefully weighed risk between theatricality and practicality. I needed to draw them in, demonstrating my talents to such an extent that they overlooked my failings.
In short, I needed to put on a show, like a performer on the streets of Colkirk.
I had drawn upon my time within the winterless city, and it had been like wearing an itchy shirt. Every bit of theatricality gnawed at me, and I had shoved aside those feelings with more difficulty than I expected. But it had worked.
My skills with destruction only looked impressive. I could break apart materials with pre-existing faults and flaws and had chosen such a poorly crafted iron cube for that reason. While I had managed to damage steel bars in my testing, it took far, far longer.
The problem lay in finding and exploiting these flaws. Steel and bronze tended to have fewer, and the time it took to break these materials apart would detract from the demonstration. I needed to be fast and effective, or they might grow bored or see through the illusion.
Now, as I stood there and waited, I wondered if I should have gone for the steel bar instead.
Keeper Yosish cleared his throat, saying, "We must deliberate. Please, follow the disciple outside and await our summons."
I nodded, allowing the disciple to blindfold me and lead me outside. We did not walk far, only a few dozen steps from the room, but that was enough to go over my trials twice over.
If I failed, what could I do? Should I try crawling back to the Esttons? They would likely not take me back, but maybe I could trick those assassins. No...no, that made no sense. Maybe I should return to Volaris, hiding in plain sight as it were.
I shook my head, dismissing the pessimistic musings before they could darken my mood further. It could wait until I received my answer.
Soon, the Forgteenders summoned me for their answer. I held my arms before my back, head lifted to meet Keeper Yorish's eyes as he seemed to consider me.
"I'm afraid your skills are not up to the standard we expect of our members," Yorish said, the slightest tinge of pity in his eyes, "You are welcome to try against next month if you are so inclined."
My stomach dropped. I had not realized it wholly, but I was sure I had passed. Yes, I could not reinforce, but what did that matter? I had demonstrated an underutilized aspect of Forging and had done so with far more talent and control than any my age.
Was that not enough, or was there something else at play?
I bowed to hide the scowl threatening to show itself, replying, "I understand. Thank you for your consideration."
As I turned to leave with the disciple, Keeper Yorish cleared his throat.
"A moment if you would initiate."
I turned to see the man cross the room to me. He was shorter than I expected but broad with a build that suggested years of hard work. His smile had returned, but with it was a hint of genuine interest. Curiosity mingled with respect in his eyes, an expression I had never seen from the Keeper despite his past kindness.
"Yes, Keeper Yorish?" I asked, remaining as formal and respectful as possible. Even if I was leaving, there was no sense in making undue enemies.
"I wished to speak with you," Yorish said, "Privately, if possible."
"Of course, my lord. When would you like to—"
Yorish placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt his mana rise, a cloud swirling about us so dense that the room vanished. The energy shrunk and condensed, and I felt the pressure, both physical and magical, increase.
Then, the world vanished.
We floated in an imperceptible mass of darkness. I felt a twinge of fear, a primal terror of something strange and unknowable that spoke to an animalistic part of my mind. Then, existence reexerted itself.
I was now in a room that must be the Keeper's quarters. It was small, square, and comfortable, with a roaring fire, a table, chairs, bookshelves, and finely crafted weapons, tools, and armor hanging from the walls. Many looked bizarre, with constructions I did not recognize even from Sig's private collection, and I almost walked over to take a closer look.
Instead of indulging in those idle curiosities, I faced the Keeper and asked, "Forgive my disrespect, but why did you wish to speak with me?"
Yorish raised an eyebrow at my somewhat blunt tone. "Most would consider my personal attention an honor, you know."
"I agree," I replied, "You are a far greater mage than I. You also teleported me here without my permission or warning. I believe that earned me some leeway."
The Keeper chuckled, responding, "Yes, I should've asked first. Please accept my apologies. Impatience is a failing I've never truly overcome. Ah, but please take a seat."
Yorish gestured towards the table, and I accepted the invitation. The chair was comfortable enough, but I focused on the man, not the furniture.
The man stared at me over interlocked fingers, leaning across the table to examine me. Seconds passed before he finally spoke.
"What led you to change your mind?"
"Change my mind about what, Keeper?"
"As I understand it, you've sought to master reinforcement. You've certainly made a name for yourself pursuing that endeavor. Yet today, you did not bother attempting it. So, what led you to that decision?"
I debated dancing around the topic, then shrugged. Why bother?
"I cannot reinforce natural materials," I replied and realized I did not feel nearly as much frustration as I should, "I cannot say whether or not this is my execution, a weakness inherent to my magic, or some combination of the two, but the distinction is meaningless. What I could do, however, is lean into what my magic allows."
"Destroying things?" Yorish filled in, "Hardly the sort of talent a forger might utilize."
"Is it? I first heard of this application as a first-year student, and I cannot believe no one has pursued it in the past."
Yorish nodded. "Some do, but it is extraordinarily rare. The talent is...limited. Slow. Frankly, most regard it as a useless novelty. Why bother learning to destroy when our true calling is to create and refine?"
His words rang true, at least based on my limited experiences. I had gotten the skill down enough to destroy a low-quality hunk of iron, but even that required several seconds, which was already unfeasible in battle. Breaking something like steel would take far longer, and I doubted I could damage magically reinforced materials at all. At least, not yet.
However, I had only practiced for three weeks. What would it look like six months from now? Or a year? Could I someday sunder armor and blades with a wave of my hand? And what about the other, more...unorthodox applications?
I could break iron, yes, but could I take that concept and apply it to other things? Could I use the principles combined with my knowledge of healing to worsen injuries rather than repair them? And how might this talent interact with another mage's spells? Might I one day tear apart magic as easily as I could metal?
Such ideas sounded impossible, but so did speaking with one's future self. Miracles and magic went hand in hand, and I had long since learned not to discount anything.
"Then why did you bring me here?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Your solution was slow. Impractical. Unorthodox," Yorish said, "It was also bold and innovative. Few initiates could risk such a step. I doubt most would even consider it."
"I...see." I lied, not sure what else to say.
Yorish sighed. "You have the drive and focus to go far in our Order. Given time and the inclination, you could even become a Speaker. But you cannot Reinforce. Unfortunately, that makes your induction impossible. Our rules do not work if we make exceptions, and I am particularly bound by our traditions."
I had not expected otherwise and simply nodded. "I understand, honored Keeper."
"However," the Keeper continued as if I had not spoken, "What I can do is offer a personal boon to an intriguing young mage."
"A...boon, Keeper Yorish?" I repeated, my heartbeat quickening.
Yorish smiled. "Yes. I shall grant you one request as long as it is within my powers."
I did not so much as pause before asking, "What are the restrictions on this boon?"
"It must be within reason and cannot directly or indirectly harm the Order or any of its members."
The second part was obvious, but that first caveat was nebulous, likely on purpose. Still, it was open enough that I knew I had to carefully consider the best choice.
First and most obvious was a lesson at the feet of Keeper Yorish. He was not the strongest member of the Order, at least in battle, but he was the most skilled. His teleportation just minutes earlier spoke to impeccable control, far beyond what I could hope to achieve with years more training. Even an hour of his time might save me weeks of painful, fumbling practice.
But was that worth it? It might take me longer, but I would get there. Why should I use such a valuable resource on something I could do without Yorish's aid?
Next, I debated requesting a weapon. Even the lowest of Yorish's crafts would surpass my old swordstaff. And if he saw fit to use even a fraction of his true talent, well then that was a boon well spent. A blade tempered in the Everforge could slice through steel and stone as effortlessly as a sickle through wheat.
Again, this felt like a waste. I could craft daggers from Aether, and it would not be long until I could do the same for spears. I was once more saving myself time rather than gaining something truly irreplaceable.
Learning how to teleport would take too long. I could pry into something more specific, such as permanency, but this had the same flaw as general training. Asking for shelter crossed my mind, but I doubted the Order would shield me indefinitely without asking questions. Once they did, I could not count on their altruism and mercy.
I turned over the possibilities, discarding and re-examining each as I tried to choose the best. Of all the choices, one kept moving to the forefront despite my best efforts. It would be the height of arrogance, something some mages might strike me down over, but...
"I have made my decision, Honored Keeper," I said, "I would like to see the Everforge."
Yorish's eyes narrowed, but before he could refuse me, I continued, "Please understand that I mean no insult or transgression. I have no wish to use it. But I am a forger, and this is the height of our art. Having even a glimpse of it would be a priceless blessing.
"...you are a bold one," Yorish remarked after a long, tense pause. His face broke into a faint grin, "Not many would dare ask such a thing."
I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders and replied, "A mage needs to be bold. Otherwise, they let opportunities slip through their fingers. Besides, all Disciples are taken to see the Everforge, no?"
That particular bit was a rumor passed around by initiates, but I had never had the chance to confirm it one way or the other. Yorish's frown answered the mystery, and he shook his head with a sigh.
"I'll need to remind our youngest members of the value of discretion," Yorish muttered. He tapped his forefingers together, seeming to weigh my request against some hidden burden.
Finally, he nodded.
"Very well. I agree to your request."
"You do?" I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
Yorish raised an eyebrow. "I am the Keeper, young man. It is within my purview to allow certain privileged mages a chance to view the Everforge."
And yet he could not allow me entrance into the Order. It made a degree of sense. Any mage could visit the Academy and peruse their Archives if given permission, but only an apprentice in training or a graduate could do so freely.
I would never earn the privilege to use the Everforge as a member of the Order might, but a single glimpse would be more than enough...for now.
Yorish cleared his throat, and I realized he had said something.
"Apologies, Keeper Yorish, what did you say?"
"I said," he replied with a hint of amusement, "I will add two conditions to your request. First, you must swear an oath to never speak about what you see within the Everforge to any living soul without my permission. This includes your traveling companion."
It was far from an unreasonable request. Magically reinforced oaths could be tricky. Dangerous, even. I had no reason to fear this one, though. I wanted to see the Everforge to gain an edge, and spreading those secrets around felt counterproductive to that end.
It did raise questions of just how such an oath might interact with my telepathic bond with Fortunatus. Would that count as "speaking"? Questions for later, it seemed.
"I agree," I replied, "And the second?"
Yorish leaned forward, and though his smile remained friendly, his eyes became piercing. "And second, you will tell me your real goal here, young man."
Comments
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