DB Lazarus
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82. A Place at the Table - I
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 04:56:50 +0000 UTCAs we walked through the mine, Dorian’s mood soured. The meeting with Sæmdarskati had provided unwelcome revelations. However, he didn’t say a word. He had opened his mouth multiple times, only to close it without uttering a thing. Each time, he radiated even more frustration and annoyance that had to border on anger. He considered me a friend, part of his team. He had wanted to negotiate for me, but more importantly, he wanted me safe. Losing his last team left scars, and his reaction would only get worse when he finally asked for the details.
When we exited the mine, the sun had only just crested the cliff. It had felt like we had spent an entire day in there, but it had only been hours. Dorian headed towards the Quartermaster’s, and I followed.
“Will she be there?”
Dorian ignored my question. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.”
It hurt to hear the notes of betrayal, but it didn’t make me regret leaving him in the dark. “Look. I am sorry about that. But I was specifically asked to keep you out of it.”
“What?” He stopped and spun to face me. “Who—No don’t answer that. You’ve interacted with only one person who would dare ask that of you. She had no right.”
Perhaps, but I saw the logic then, and I could still see it now.
“Again, I am sorry. Does it help that things seemed to have worked out?”
He grumbled, “No.”
“Let me explain it at least.”
As we walked towards our destination, I gave him a full rundown of what I had gone through. By the end, his anger had softened—at least towards me. The [Tailor] on the other hand…
“That old crone! Always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I don’t like what happened, but I get it. It still puts you in a difficult spot. Working with the Ættir ties you to them, but you do need their protection from the Volki. It is dangerous. You have talent, but you can’t hide that anymore.”
“Yeah. I notice you threw the whole lying low out the window.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Not ideal, but I pushed the Sæmdarskati on purpose. It is clear he believes he owes you a debt, and a major one at that. You should be safe—at least from his tribe.”
“Even if I am a… you know…” I still didn’t dare say “prodigy,” even with no one around.
“You’ve shown talent, but not that much, at least not in the places that matter. I don’t think the Sæmdarskati or anyone else thinks you are more than a well-educated Human noble from afar. You sure don’t hail from around here.”
He let that last comment linger. We both had our secrets. He, for one, had far too much pull for a person his age, but I couldn’t keep lying by omission to everyone. I needed allies, and Dorian has always had my back. But just how far can I push things?
“Yeah, I think we both need to have a chat about our backstories.” He grimaced at his inclusion. “But may not right now?” I shot a look at the General Store. “I feel like we have more pressing concerns.”
He nodded. “I will bring some drink suitable for the conversation.” He let out a sigh. “Back to your current situation, while it is still dangerous for you to be so closely tied to the Ættir, as a Human…”
“I don’t have another option.” I let out a long breath. “Wonderful. I can’t be independent, and I doubt there is a faction among the Volki I can join with. Do you think the [Quartermaster] will let me be a part of your contingent?”
He shook his head. “No. She compromised by sending you to me, but she won’t do more. Even that act wasn’t truly altruistic. It never is with her.”
We approached the large building and walked onto the planks forming a patio before the door. He stopped, hand on the door. “Did she know you could heal?“
“I never claimed to be a [Healer].”
“We aren’t the Ættir. We aren’t so blessed to have [Healers] of their caliber. It’s rare for someone to do what you do. So, how about this: did she know you can treat wounds?”
It had been no more than a few weeks, but that time was hazy. I tried pushing Energy into the [Eidetic Memory], but it didn’t help.
“I alluded that I had some training.”
He said nothing, but he opened the door with a bang. The Oresian behind the counter jumped in surprise, but Dorian didn’t seem to notice her reaction. “Get her,” he growled.
He continued towards the back room without pausing. I followed as he entered the next room. Nothing appeared different than before. The desk was neat. The door on the opposite side of the room was ajar, suggesting someone might be back in there.
“Do you want to look for the [Quartermaster] back there?”
“No.”
He pivoted and went towards a door on the side of the room, not far from the pickaxe hanging on the wall. The door was different than any prior door I had seen. Instead of a handle, it had a wood plate carved with intricate runes. That hadn’t registered last time I was here. Try as I might, I couldn’t recall seeing that or any other door with that design. I again tried putting energy into [Eidetic Memory] but got nothing.
The name of the skill doesn’t lie. Perfect recall is only for medical information.
Dorian put his hand on the plate. His marks glowed, and the the panel followed suit. “She will find us. We need to talk in a place we aren’t going to be heard.”
There was no click, but the door opened a crack. He pushed it, and it swung back. He didn’t hesitate to enter the dark room. He put a hand on the wall just inside the door, causing multiple light stones to light up.
I found a small square panel. It was affixed to the wall. On its face, someone had etched a small circle. A thin wood strip extended from it to the corner of the room. When I tracked it, I could make out another strip moving to each of the light stones. I put my hand next to the plate, and my fingers tingled slightly as if it contained some Energy, which, looking at the system, it must have.
Huh, they mimicked electrical wiring.
“You must not have these where you are from?”
I turned a bit too fast to Dorian, who had noticed my fascination. During my distraction, he had walked towards the back, moving around a large table with multiple chairs that took up the center of the room.
It only made his eyebrow arch higher.
“We do, but it is just a different design.”
“Yeah?”
Right…I was supposedly from a null zone. How was I to have this type of setup?
Oh, man, that conversation is going to be a long one.
He must have thought better than to pry because, instead, he gestured to the wood runners. “In my opinion, using wood like this is a bit gaudy. Most homes would just inlay the conduits into the house structure, but we had limited options if we wanted to maintain the integrity of the runes in the walls. No one was willing to use dried monster sinew either. Waste of good heartwood if you ask me, but you know Oresian aesthetics.”
I didn’t, but given how ornate and clean everything in this building was compared to the other ones, I was getting an idea.
“What are we doing here?”
“Setting up and then waiting. Can you shut the door for me?”
He leaned over and picked up a medium-sized chest that was resting against the back wall. He carried it to the table, putting it down and popping it out. I moved closer to see its contents. He pulled out a large, solid-green crystal and put it inside a complex pattern of carvings at the center of the table. He then maneuvered it so that it rested in a slight inset.
My breath caught as the atmosphere changed. Vivid green lines in fractal patterns flared to life on the walls and then dimmed to a soft glow.
He looked up at me with an apologetic expression. “You okay? Forgot to warn you.”
“I am fine. Just surprised me.” The air hummed with Aether, faint compared to an untapped strike, but manageable. “What grade is that?”
“Tier V.”
I whistled. “Pricey.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but not as much as you think. Not here at least. This grade of crystals acts as a key component for a lot of the camp’s infrastructure. If you aren’t careful, they can decay quickly, but we have methods to preserve them. Well maintained, they can last generations, not the decades if you’re lazy about it.”
“Wouldn’t that attract all sorts of monsters?”
“Only if not properly shielded.”
I moved to examine the box, but he held up a hand.
“You better not. The metal used is very toxic. They make an effort to seal it, but you never know. Those with lower levels tend to be the most affected. It can permanently stunt your growth.”
“I think I am done growing—oh, you mean my levels.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
That only increased the urge to examine it. Aether, Energy, and the manipulation of both were fascinating, and as any good scientist or doctor knew, you could learn as much, if not more, when things failed or didn’t work as intended.
“Daniel, I am not kidding. Don’t get near it.”
I gave the chest a long look. “Fine. Should I take a chair?”
“Yeah. She will be here soon.”
That seemed presumptuous, but I had long known that Dorian had far more pull than normal. Though, that didn’t mean that the Quartermaster would be happy when summoned.
And as if to prove the point, the door swung open. If I hadn’t started moving toward the chair, it would have hit me, hard.
A pissed-off, familiar Oresian stomped in. “You little”—she said something that didn’t translate—“where do you get the rocks to summon me as if I am some Tier-I flunky?”
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Then she took stock of him. He had leaned forward, his fists on the table. He managed some of the same imperious visage that the Sæmdarskati had. She paused before spitting out, “Fine. What is this about? It better be good. If not, I am going to make you pay for my time and the fatigue on the enchantments.”
He just turned his gaze to me. She slowly turned to find me half hidden by the door.
“Of course, it would be because of you.” She let out a long sigh. “Sit. I will get the door.”
