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Rise of the Archon- Book 2, Chapter 29
🕑 Added 2024-11-16 12:46:46 +0000 UTCI found Wallace halfway through a glass of something amber and faintly noxious smelling. It was the sort of drink I loathed, but the man seemed to enjoy.
He saw me coming from the corner of his eye, turning towards me from his seat at the bar and raising his glass.
"And here I thought you'd left town," Wallace remarked as I sat beside him, "Haven't seen you in days."
"I should have spoken with you first, but I have been busy with...well, something that seemed important," I replied.
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Not important."
"You just said-"
"I said it seemed important," I interrupted, "I was wrong."
Wallace grunted, and we fell silent for a time. I thought back to Vivienne and her offer of an alliance. She had been right in several regards, but her mistake was thinking she was a viable candidate. I did not like her or trust her, particularly because her goals were opaque, but there was another person whose motivations seemed far clearer.
But first...
"We need to talk," I said after a long pause.
"About?" Wallace asked, not bothering to turn towards me.
"Us," I replied, then winced at how it sounded, "Ah, I meant to say our arrangement, such as it is."
Wallace glanced at me, then swirled his glass, "I'm guessing you're done working with me?"
"No," I shook my head, "Far from it. But first, I need to know a few things."
He remained silent, so I continued, "I met with a woman, Vivienne Thibault, and she made some...claims about who you are. I think it's time I heard more about who you are and where you come from."
"You never cared before," Wallace said.
"I did not," I agreed, "But I did not need to trust you before."
Wallace turned to face me, "Do you need to now?"
"I would like to," I replied, "and I cannot see that happening if I know nothing about you."
The metal mage swirled his glass again. Then, he tilted it back and drained it in one gulp before standing and placing a few coins down on the bar. He walked away without another word, and I followed after a second as Wallace slipped through the crowd and out onto the city streets.
Together, we walked through Colkirk, heading back onto dry land. Wallace led the way, and within less than a minute, we diverted down a side street past densely packed buildings and found a small square of grass and dirt. It was not entirely abandoned, as even there, I could hear the sounds of music and conversation and smell the tang of alcohol and food, but it was as close to private as we were wont to find.
The instant we stopped, Wallace turned towards me with...well, not a glare, but certainly far from a smile on his face.
"What did she say?"
I did not bother dancing around it, "She said you were a poor noble, though she did not elaborate in what way. I assumed you were simply a member of some little-known family, but the way she spoke made it sound more shameful."
Wallace snorted, "Yeah, shameful. That's a good word for it."
He sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Where the hell do I start? The beginning, I suppose. My full name is Wallace Ashland."
I blinked, the name unpleasantly familiar, "Ashland? As in Duke Ashland? Are you his son?"
That would be an issue. The Ashlands did not have the prestige of the Esttons or Sions, but they were powerful. Worse, they were traditionalists through and through, the types that felt people like me should not even touch enchanted items, much less learn magic.
"Nephew," Wallace corrected, "Though he'd prefer to forget that much."
"What is a Duke's nephew doing..." I tried to think how best to finish the sentence.
"Wasting away his life drinking, sleeping, and cheating other nobles out of their gold?" Wallace offered, sounding both amused and annoyed, "The same as you, I'd bet. Trying to pass the time and make the best of a bad situation."
"I was going to say, 'not training at the Academy,'" I finished, "Families of your status can afford such privileges for everyone, not just the formal heir."
"Yeah, they can," Wallace agreed, and I caught the first hint of bitterness, "It started a few years ago, back when I first went through my Awakening. My uncle paid for a mage to come to our estate and do the Awakenings at home. My cousin and I were both of age, and my uncle wanted privacy. I fell unconscious, and when I woke up, the mage looked almost nervous. I remember noticing that and thinking it was strange, but I put it out of my mind. Uncle— I mean, Lord Ashwind isn't known for being approachable, you know? A few days passed before my uncle summoned me to his office."
Wallace folded his arms over his chest, "It started off nice enough if you can believe it. Dukes aren't friendly to most, but my uncle was always kind to his family. He asked how I was doing after my Awakening, what I saw, and if I could sense my mana within me. It didn't take long for things to change, though. He told me I would not receive a formal education like my cousins and siblings. Instead, I'd be...well, the word he used was 'tutored.' I didn't realize what that meant at the time."
He might not, but I did, "You would receive informal training, enough to touch your mana and control it, but not much more."
"Exactly," Wallace chuckled, folding his arms across his chest, "They taught me enough, so I wouldn't be too much of an embarrassment or kill someone. Then, they sent me on my way. Didn't take me long to ask my uncle why. Didn't like the answer, either."
Heat and bitterness stained Wallace's voice, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped his upper arms, "My core is the smallest the mage in charge of my Awakening had seen in a decade. I could train five times as hard as a normal mage and never hit Drop. It was below average for an ordinary mage. For a Duke's nephew, it was the kind of shame that might darken an entire generation. Training was a waste of time and gold, so why bother?"
"And you left?" I guessed, but Wallace shook his head.
"I wish. Might've had some dignity left. But no, I thought maybe, just maybe, if I proved my uncle wrong. Maybe I could change his mind if I worked even harder than he said or figured out some trick to surpass his expectations. I spent six months trying to get enough mana to do anything and another six piecing together what little I knew about magic into something worth a damn. Then, one day, I went to show my uncle what I'd learned."
I could guess what had happened and remained silent rather than rub salt onto clear wounds.
Wallace took a long breath, then shook his head, "Anyways. I realized then it was pointless. Decided to see Ferris instead of wasting more time and energy. I took some gold—my inheritance and left home. Went to Volaris first to visit my sister, who bounced between being embarrassed to be seen with me and feeling guilty she felt that way. Traveled along the coast for a few months, seeing the sights and such. Eventually, I ended up here. Colkirk is a beautiful place, and I figured maybe I could make some friends and carve out a life. Problem is, an untrained, physically crippled mage isn't worth much. My gold dried up, and then..."
"You had to do what you could to earn a living," I filled in, and Wallace nodded.
"More or less, yeah. Started off simple enough. I won those first couple of contests the right way, but it wasn't easy. Lost some of 'em, so I started experimenting with my magic. I couldn't do much with it for a while, but practice makes perfect. Learned to pick my targets, make a show of it, and that's how it's gone for the last year or so."
He fell silent, his story finished, and I spent a minute or two digesting it. Truthfully, I could not say I blamed him wholly for his bitterness. Wallace was abandoned by his family once he could not meet their expectations. It was a casual cruelty encouraged by the nobles and enforced by society. I could understand the pragmatism of his uncle but not the sheer callousness.
Yet none of that excused his actions.
So, I met his eyes and said, "When did you give up?"
Wallace blinked, "What?"
I gestured towards him, "You said you wanted to prove your uncle wrong. Yet the way I see it, you benefitted from being a noble your whole life, only to give up when things turned against you. Instead of training, you waste your talents cheating people out of their gold."
Wallace glared, "Who the hell are you to judge me? You're not me. Your family didn't throw you aside the second you weren't useful. You got to grow up like a noble and go to the Academy. You're not a Duke's son, but you damn sure got treated like one from where I'm standing."
"Is that really what you've succumbed to?" I asked, "Spitefully taking out your misfortunes on others for having what you could not?"
Wallace said nothing, and I continued, "You are right. I do not know your past. Not really. But I do know that I saw the same things you did. I saw a path before me that I did not like. So, I have one final thing to ask. If you could change your fate, would you?"
Wallace's glare seemed almost confused, and he replied, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Exactly what I said. If you could change your fate, would you?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"An important one," I gestured towards him, "You have improved more these past weeks than you have in months. Your uncle said you would go nowhere, but are you really content with that? Are you happy wasting your life in this city, drinking and swindling day in and day out?"
Wallace's eyes lost a bit of their heat, but he still spat his words out, "Of course not, but what the hell would you do about it?"
I smiled, "Plenty. All I ask in return is you trust me. We have come far these past few weeks. I say we go further."
The noble seemed to weigh me for a few seconds, then he shook his head as he started to walk away, "No thanks. I'm not sure what the hell you've got planned, but I'll pass. There's no way I'd—"
"Then maybe your uncle was right about you."
Wallace froze halfway towards the street, and I felt his mana stir. He was still a Mist, with barely enough mana to pull together into a spell, but I drew my Aether up just in case.
The noble stomped towards me, looming half a foot taller as he glared. I suspected he was debating the merits of punching me and braced myself, ready to throw up my armor if he struck.
Then, he shook his head, "Go to hell."
He moved to push past me, and I reached out, seizing his arm with one hand. Wallace tried to throw off my grip, and I released him before stepping back, one hand raised in a placating gesture while the other slipped into my pocket.
"Hitting me will change nothing," I said, though I could tell he was still ready to try it, "But what I say next might."
I pulled out my other hand, producing a purse. It held dozens of gold coins, a decently large chunk of my winnings since arriving in Colkirk. Wallace's eyes landed on it, and I could see the greed and confusion within them.
"I propose a deal," I continued, "We will duel. I will restrict myself to the same abilities that you use. No external magic. No armor. No projectiles. Just internal spellcraft and our skills with a weapon. If you win, you can have this. It should be enough gold to tide you over for several months. Possibly until spring, as long as you are smart about your spending."
Wallace's eyes lingered on the pouch, then flicked back to me, "And if you win?"
"Then you leave this city and join me," I replied, jingling the purse as I finished my sentence, "Do we have a deal?"
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