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Rise of the Archon-Chapter 37
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 13:58:56 +0000 UTCI walked through the densely packed streets of the residential districts, passing by houses and small shops without much direction. Though I had a goal, namely staying busy and progressing in whatever ways I could find, I had no real idea what to do. I had not explored Aranth and, in the absence of training partners or quiet and safe locations, had no concept of where to go.
Then again, there was one thing I had put off seeing in person for days.
I glanced up at the sky, adjusting my direction and aiming westward. It took me longer than I expected, as Aranth streets tended to turn around on themselves, narrow to the point of impassable, or end entirely, but eventually, I stepped out of those cramped passages and into an open space.
Blue.
The first thing that greeted me was an endless expanse of blue. It stretched before me as far as I could see, covering the horizon in a single, unbroken span. I had seen the boats from a distance but could now make them out in greater detail. White waves crashed against the larger vessels, which dragged nets along as they glided through the water. The smaller ones, meanwhile, wobbled and threatened to tip over under the same duress.
Wooden docks covered the coastline, some short and narrow, built for those smaller ships, while others extended further out onto the waters. Those were large enough for the bigger vessels to tie themselves down, and I suspected both served not just those fishermen but the traders who traveled up and down the coastline.
The sound of waves washing across rock, dirt, and wood made for a strange mixture with the shouting of workers and merchants hocking cheap fish, shells, and other oceanic wares. I had only a passing familiarity with these and dismissed them without much thought.
A warm spring wind passed over the ocean as I stood there, carrying the smell of salt. It was a scent that I had never encountered in my life. Hell, I had not experienced any of this before, yet it was indelibly seared into my memories.
In fact, all of this was as clear as glass within my mind because I had encountered it once. Just not physically.
And like that, I remembered. I remembered the sound of bones cracking against stone and the feather-soft slice of a blade parting flesh. I saw in my mind's eye my body, battered and broken, skewered through the chest as my lifeblood ran free. I felt it as keenly as if I had been stabbed, and I remembered when I had died.
I realized then that my breathing had turned short and sharp. My heart hammered within my chest, and sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I fumbled with one hand, and a few half-staggered steps brought me within arm's reach of a nearby building.
Some part of me recognized my reaction as wholly unnecessary, even as I slumped against the building. A version of me had died, yes, but not me. I still drew breath...such as it was. Yet repeating that thought a dozen times in my head did little to calm my breathing or settle my heart, which was doing its best to tear through my chest.
I closed my eyes, trying to force mana through my body. My Aether was sluggish, my will unfocused, but it had been a year and a half since I first gained magic. It bowed to me in time, first in thin, faint ribbons but soon thickening as I got the hang of it.
As Aether flowed through my channels in the pattern of my strengthening magic, I felt my heart slow and my breathing relax. It took several minutes at least, which exhausted a not-insubstantial portion of my core, but finally, I regained complete control of my body.
I straightened, letting out a low sigh, and shook my head, straightening the front of my shirt in the same movement. The fabric clung to my skin, and I glanced at Amelia's ring, drawing on the enchantment to scrub myself mostly clean before continuing along the docks.
Though I kept a wide berth from the Azure Expanse and its inscrutable waters, that did not leave me with limited options. I walked past shops and half-open buildings designed to butcher and pack fish into what felt like weakly enchanted crates and barrels.
The bulk of Aranth's trade lay there, as it was the single largest producer of fish in Ferris. However, this was not their most profitable trade good. No, that came from another oceanic resource that required far more effort to acquire and process but demanded an equally impressive price.
Aranth's most famous creations were dyes and inks. I did not have the first clue of the specifics, but the generalities were common knowledge. Apparently, a vast swath of oceanic mollusks sat within the shallow, coastal waters. For centuries, people would dive into these waters, retrieving these beasts and, more importantly, their brightly colored shells.
From there, it was a long, arduous, complex process. I knew that every workshop had its own particular method, and no two produced the same end result. However, all came at a preposterous price, often in the range of dozens of gold for even a small vial. Their inks were similarly pricy but high-quality creations, made with their own secret methods.
Yet many nobles felt the product was worth paying out such wealth. They came in all colors and shades, from simple blues and reds to strange, swirling patterns that seemed to change based on the light. Famously, most of these dyes would not stain, and the ink would not run, remaining as clear and brilliant as ever for decades.
And even rarer than that were their magical inks and dyes. Even the tiniest of creatures could absorb mana and become something greater. It was said that using them to dye your clothes acted similar to Forging, imbuing the objects with minor magical traits. The inks, meanwhile, could be used in scroll-making, a rare off-shoot of enchanting that had fallen out of favor in recent decades.
Prying into the businesses of those shops did not earn me much besides dirty looks, but I still felt I had done enough for the morning when I left for my room. My trip to the docks was just the first of many, and it had helped confirm two things.
First, the ships always needed extra hands. Most wanted fishermen, deckhands, and other more mundane positions, but the largest and most valuable of them had a particularly unique position.
Ship mage.
Those vessels tended to carry expensive shipments up and down the coast and preferred the added protection of a mage. If the stories were true, working just one year on the right boat could make you a small fortune. Taking a position like that would also get me more experience sailing, which seemed an excellent time saver.
Second, none of the people, from the dockhands to the butchers to the traders checking out the incoming ships, had heard so much as a passing whisper about anyone venturing beyond the horizon and returning. Nor had they caught the faintest rumors about strange, unfamiliar vessels arriving on their shores.
I had foolishly hoped that the distance of the capital from the ocean had caused me to miss something in my searches, but Aranth was the largest coastal city in Ferris. If the people here had not heard of it, it had not happened.
Was it possible I was mistaken? Were Amelia and the others right? Maybe...maybe my visions had been wrong, and my paranoia was for nothing. That would mean all of this, all my hard work and preparations, had been for nothing.
It meant I had thrown away my friends, my original future, and Amelia for nothing. I had made enemies, ruined my reputation, sacrificed a life of comfort, and gained nothing in return.
I sat in those feelings for a few seconds, then closed my eyes and smothered them. Yes, I missed my friends—or rather, my former friends. Yes, I wished I could have kept them beside me when I started my journey. And yes, I wished there had been another way, but I did not regret my choices one whit.
Even if my visions never came to pass and those invaders never fell upon my home, it did not matter. What I had seen and done had revealed the simple truth, which was that I wanted more. I could be content knowing I had done something, even if it proved unnecessary.
Besides, becoming the greatest mage to ever live was a goal worth pursuing in and of itself. The way I saw it, the invaders were not where my journey ended. They were just one stop along the way.
I reached my room at around midday, finding two figures waiting just outside the door. Wallace sat on the floor, legs folded and eyes closed as he took long, low breaths. I could sense metal mana flowing into his body in an irritatingly perfect display of Origin Breathing. Cat was right beside him, curled up into a ball of black fur. His side rose and fell as he dozed, which seemed to be his favorite hobby.
Wallace must have been working on his passive senses as his eyes popped open a second later. The mage met my gaze, standing with a grin as he gestured towards me, "Finally! I've been waiting for hours."
I shrugged, "Busy morning. Do you need something?"
The metal mage placed one hand on his hip where a sword might hang and smiled, "Training, of course. I took a few days off to explore, but I'm starting to feel rusty. Figured you'd want to join me. Besides, I had something I wanted to show you."
I did want more training, but a part of me almost declined his offer. My irritation with Lysandra had driven me to ignore her commands, but now, with my bed scant feet away...
"Lead the way," I said, gesturing with one hand.
Wallace did not need another invitation. He led me downstairs and back out onto the city street. Cat jumped onto my shoulder the moment we were outside, wrapping his tail around my neck, and together, the three of us made our way south.
Inns and homes turned into sprawling workshops and warehouses. These reminded me of Colkirk, but larger and made of treated wood rather than pure stone and tile. Out here, they did not need to worry so much about the weight of snow or ice.
I kept quiet for a long time as Wallace led us down various side streets. We slipped between buildings, ducked under a half-broken fence, and climbed over another one. It was a circuitous route, but finally, Wallace drew to a halt.
The former noble stood before a particularly run-down warehouse. Several glass windows looked broken, the door hung on broken hinges, and I realized it was secured only by a rusty chain.
Wallace turned to me and gestured with both hands, "What do you think?"
"...about?"
"The warehouse, of course!"
"It's a warehouse," I remarked, folding my arms over my chest, "And not a particularly nice one either."
"Close, but wrong. It's privacy," Wallace corrected with a smile, "And the perfect place to train without any nosy eyes watching us. Come on, let me show you inside."
Wallace started walking to one side of the buidling, and I glanced around before following again. There, he climbed through a broken window, taking care not to touch the broken glass along the sides with his bare skin, using his thick boots and a pair of gloves pulled from his belt for protection.
I pulled my armor around me and jumped through without fanfare, feeling the glass crunch underneath my fingers without leaving the slightest mark on the magical shell.
"Show off," Wallace murmured, and I snorted as I looked around the inside of the warehouse. Which was worse than the outside.
The middle of the warehouse was the nicest part, a clear and open space ideal for sparring. Unfortunately, the rest was a mess. I spotted cracked-open and half-rotten crates piled in one corner. There were shelves built along the walls, extending from the floor up about ten feet. The ceiling overhead, which looked to be around twelve or thirteen feet high, was bowed in the middle, and I swore it creaked as we stood there.
Fantastic.
If I was well-rested, I might approach it in a more civil way. As it stood, I decided on blunt honesty.
"The ceiling looks like it is one strong wind from falling on top of us," I remarked, then tapped on my chest, "And while I am confident in my armor, I would rather not test its durability against a few hundred pounds of lumber."
Wallace folded his arms over his chest and smiled, "I know it doesn't look like much, but I did some digging. You know how much this place would cost to buy?"
"I would hope they would pay us to gamble our lives."
"A couple hundred gold," Wallace replied, not engaging with my comment.
That...was not bad, truthfully. But I had no interest in setting up roots anywhere, least of all in a ramshackle, abandoned warehouse in a city famous for making pretty dyes and inks rather than great mages.
"Hear me out," Wallace continued, "We buy this place. Use any gold left to repair the roof, right. Then, you show me how to do that whole enchanting thing and give me a few simple ideas to protect this place. And then, when we are ready to leave, we sell it for a profit. It'll keep us safe in the meantime, and we get more gold in the end."
While not a terrible idea, it had several flaws, not the least of which was that I had never bothered learning any enchantments designed to protect a building. I could make some guesses, and my musings on bounded fields from Colkirk might help, but it would ultimately be a gamble.
"Did you just stumble upon this?" I asked after a few seconds, mostly to fill time.
Wallace shook his head, "Yeah, I did. Well, kinda. I was exploring, and I saw Cat walking by. Wasn't sure if it was him, but he feels kinda like..."
"Me?" I offered, and Wallace nodded.
"Yeah. Same kinda mana, though yours is stronger. Anyways, I followed him here."
The feline took his chance to jump down and began pacing around the room. I followed his movements, wondering precisely what had drawn the feline to this place.
Then, I noticed it. The mana in the air was different. Not far different, but I sensed a greater concentration in certain elements, including one in particular.
An idea began to form in my head, and I decided that if I was going to be stuck here for months, maybe I should take a bit of a gamble.
I glanced at Wallace, "How fast do you think you could buy this place?"
