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Rise of the Archon- Book 2, Chapter 51
🕑 Added 2025-01-12 10:36:24 +0000 UTCI made it back to my room without getting stabbed or blasted with a spell, which was better than I had expected. The moment my door closed, I began pacing back and forth, debating the merits of fleeing in the night.
After a few minutes, I closed my eyes and pulled more Aether into my lungs. My mind calmed, and I forced myself to think instead. If there was a plot to murder Lord Sinnett, what could I do about it? Nothing, of course. I was too weak and without the sort of influence to affect such a plan one way or the other. And even if I could, why should I?
No, the best thing to do was help Master Lysandra without drawing attention to myself. Sinnett would die, but we would both survive unscathed, which was a far better outcome in my eyes.
I picked up another of the healer's books and continued reading from where I had left off. We had already gone through the more likely possible causes for his disease, and my job now was to find any more exotic explanation she might have missed.
It seemed unlikely, to say the least, but hope sprang eternal.
I was three-quarters of the way through an older notebook, one Lysandra must have written decades ago judging by the frayed yellow pages, when there came a knock on my door. The healer opened in and strode in a moment later, smiling despite the bags under her eyes.
"Good evening, master," I said, standing and inclining my head.
Lysandra nodded, "It is, isn't it? The weather is warm, spring has come, and most importantly, his lordship's condition has finally begun improving."
"His condition has stabilized?"
"More or less. He is breathing easier, and his fever has gone down. Plenty of work to be done still, but I'm hopeful," Lysandra shook her head, "We can't afford to miss anything, though. How has your research gone?"
"I have dug through your notes on respiratory diseases with symptoms consistent with Lord Sinnett's condition," I replied, "And I have identified two more possibilities along with how best to treat both."
I held out a few pages, which Lysandra took with a smile, "Fantastic. Thank you, Vayne. I'll read through these tonight before I go to bed, and we can start investigating further tomorrow. Is there anything else?"
"No," I replied, but as the woman turned to leave, I cleared my throat and continued, "...master?"
Lysandra paused, "Yes?"
"Is it possible his lordship's condition is...unnatural?"
The healer's face was blank for a few seconds, then she replied in a loud, stern voice, "Now, Vayne, I understand you and Selene are young and spend quite a bit of time together, but I'm afraid I cannot permit dalliances between my students."
My face heated, and I blinked, trying to sputter a response to the strange comment. But before I could say anything, I noticed Lysandra's magical working. She wove mana together into her privacy spell, but this one was of greater complexity. When it fell into place around my room, I realized I could not only not hear anything but not sense it either. It was as if my ability to detect mana ended at the boundary of her magic.
"How..." I muttered, then shook my head, "Questions for later."
"I agree," Lysandra responded, and she looked like a true master mage for once, "Now, what did you mean?"
I glanced around us, "Pardon my caution, but are you sure this is safe? I cannot pierce this spell, but that does not mean—"
"Perfectly safe," Lysandra interrupted, "I'll feel it if anyone tries to tear through that veil."
I nodded, but I could not help but hesitate despite her assurances. If there was a plot going on, speaking on it too much would only put us both in danger. Of course, I was already a possible target thanks to Niccolo's careless actions, but some part of me did not want to drag the healer into it.
A much larger part of me wanted to live, though, and getting the assistance of an older and stronger mage seemed a great way to ensure I was not murdered, so I set aside my discomfort and spoke.
"Earlier today, one of Lord Sinnett's apprentices approached me. He—a young man a few years my senior named Niccolo—wanted to know more about his master's condition. At first, I assumed he was worried, either out of genuine care or more selfish motives. However, towards the end of our conversation, Niccolo made a peculiar...implication about his fellow students."
"Which was?" Lysandra asked though I could see on her face that she knew.
"He implied that Lord Sinnett's condition might not be wholly natural and that certain individuals might be the cause."
"I see. And what do you think?"
I almost feigned ignorance but decided against it and replied, "As an apprentice healer or as a former advisor-in-training to a duke?"
"Both."
"As a healer, poisons are easy to identify with magic. Magical healing would have neutralized the less effective ones, and someone of your experience would spot a more potent one from a mile away. And as an advisor, assassinations for lords such as this are risky. Dangerous. Prone to failure, which is particularly suicidal when your target can raze buildings to the ground."
Lysandra smiled, "Lord Sinnett would be insulted that you think so little of him. His destructive power is much greater than simply burning down a few buildings."
I folded my arms over my chest, "I cannot help but notice you did not deny the possibility."
Lysandra nodded a few times, "No, I did not."
My blood chilled, "You believe Niccolo. You think Sinnett was poisoned."
The healer stared at me for a long time before responding, "Lord Sinnett is improving, but slowly. It could be a rare disease or condition of some kind, one I have never seen or read about that is resisting my effort. But taking ill so quickly is rare, and I suspect I would know the cause by now. Besides that, my magical healing is remarkably ineffective."
"Is that common?"
"More than you would think. You've read about tumorous growths, yes? Good. They are simple enough to treat at an early stage. Simply remove them and repair the damaged tissue left behind. However, they tend to spread, and after a certain point, magical healing takes too much energy from the patient.
"And is that what you believe is happening here? His condition is too widespread or invasive, and your healing is harming more than it is helping?"
"That is my current hypothesis, yes. I believe his lordship fell ill with a rare disease during his recent travels, and this is draining his stamina in such a way that magical healing is too demanding. It is the simpler, more direct explanation and I tend to believe those over unlikely plots and plans."
I cleared my throat, "And what if Niccolo is right? Should we..."
Lysandra smiled a fake smile, "I would recommend we forget this conversation, Vayne. Have a good night."
Her spell fell apart, and she left my room with barely a glance towards me. I watched her go, tracking her with mana senses until she vanished from "sight." When she did, I finally let myself relax. Or rather, relax as much as I could in such a situation.
Master Lysandra's warning made sense, but it did little to ease my concerns. I could pretend our conversation had not happened all I wanted, but Niccolo had already put a target on my back. Was I really supposed to just pretend all was well and hope for the best?
The frustrating truth was that, yes, that was the limit of my existing capabilities. I could have fled but would not get far without a mount or supplies. More than that, running would only raise questions and invite suspicions, and I did not want to give the dying lord any reasons to wonder if I was somehow responsible. No rational person would come to that conclusion, but he did not seem particularly rational in my eyes.
I considered going to sleep, but one glance at that oh-so-flimsy wooden door convinced me otherwise. Instead, I sat down on the floor, facing the entrance to my room, and prepared myself for a long, restless night.
***
Lord Sinnett's condition continued to improve, at least to some extent. I had finished digging through the healer's books, but we still could not deduce the root cause. Lysandra decided it did not matter and focused instead on treating the man as best as possible and documenting everything in case this was a unique case.
I had acclimated to working in a half-asleep fog. My sleep, when it came, was restless, and I took to watching over my shoulder whenever I stepped out of my quarters. Every time I heard a whisper, I was sure it was about me and any flicker of mana from the fortress carried with it ill-omens.
Niccolo tried to speak with me several more times in the days following our last conversation, which only served to worsen my fears. The damned fool seemed eager to get me killed, and his carelessness pricked at both my temper and, strangely, my pride. I could be reckless sometimes, but this was idiotic on his part.
Despite the risks, my curiosity got the better of me. I did some digging on the other students, and every rumor of Tomas made it more likely that Niccolo was right.
Tomas was the second oldest of Sinnett's students and the most overtly ambitious. The youngest child of a viscount, Tomas was unlikely to inherit much from his parents, so instead, he had looked to earn his own legacy. He had come to Lord Sinnett years earlier, seeking to become the man's heir, master his secret techniques, and become a legendary war mage in his own right.
According to the servants, Tomas was arrogant. Cruel. Fully assured of his superiority to the commoners, both because of his birth and because of his magic. He was, in nearly every regard, identical to his master, and that, coupled with his talent, earned him a spot as the most favored of the six.
But that sort of person also tended towards certain proclivities. Impatient, with a naked lust for greater wealth and power. Ambition was a slow poison, and I could see how it might turn respect and admiration for a lord into bitterness and envy. It was not hard to imagine Tomas realizing that maybe if his lord thought he was dying, he might favor his cherished student with his secrets before he passed.
Parts did not make sense, but even my often-dangerous curiosity could not drive me to dig further. I had already done so more than was safe, and prying further would only ensure I was dragged into whatever plots were going on. So, I kept my head down and my eyes out.
I rose one morning and went through the same routine as I had every day since arriving at the fortress. Nearly two weeks had passed, and Lord Sinnett continued to improve daily, though I was still kept as far away from him as possible. I made my way to Master Lysandra's quarters, but when I entered her room, I realized something was off.
The woman was hunched over a table, head downturned as she stared at a bundle of notes. She wore the same style of robes as always, but I noticed that this particular set was identical to the ones she had on the previous day, only stained and wrinkled rather than clean and orderly.
Lysandra's head turned towards me, but she did not greet me with a warm smile. She did not laugh, and her eyes did not light up. Instead, her expression was distant and a touch fearful. All of those vanished behind a mask of ice, and she straightened up, pushing away from the table to face me full-on.
"Lord Sinnett died last night."
