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Chapter 493 - 'Armless No More
🕑 Added 2025-11-16 00:06:38 +0000 UTCQuick announcement. I'm going on holiday from tomorrow to the 27th but intending to keep up with my release schedule. Got a long flight so hopefully I'll make the Tuesday release date but just wanted to give you a heads up in case I don't make it.
“There is more,” King Gregory’s voice echoed through the council chamber. “With the veil open, it seems that the Path to Heaven has revealed itself. The warlocks want it, and so does Godfrey. That makes me want to get there before any of them.”
“With all due respect, we defeated the warlocks. Their invasion of Elenvine failed. This Veil… it may be open, but that does not mean anything. The enemy was defeated!” Marcela watched the old man speak. He was a lord of some renown, though Celaine only knew of his family, not the man himself. In her opinion, the man was an idiot.
“I saw beyond the Veil,” King Gregory said, his expression grave. “A darkness that seemed unending. I am here only because of my own weakness. I could not even approach the rift due to the monumental forces in that chamber.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The meeting with King Gregory set the tone well, at least in Marcela’s opinion. He’d done well to show strength in this time of need, and already she could tell that many of those her father deemed troublemakers had set aside their own aspirations. At least for now. Time would reveal much, but while a lot of bad had come from the warlock invasion of Elenvine, the one thing it had doubtlessly succeeded in was uniting the houses and people of Alveron.
King Henry was dead. His son had succeeded him. And every banner and every Chosen would be at his back until the kingdom was safe once more.
“And finally,” King Gregory said. “A statue shall be raised to honour the loss of Humphrey, Robert, Emilia, Celaine, and Dylan gave everything to keep this city safe, and all shall know. They are heroes.”
“They may not be lost,” Lorissa said. Many eyes turned to her at the interruption. “I have glimpsed the Veil too. Every time when I use my blessings, I catch a glimpse of the darkness beyond, and each time I pierce through that darkness and find myself where I am meant to be. Whether here or the Remnant Realm. There are other worlds out there—the darkness is not empty. The veil was closed because it leads somewhere.”
“I shall pray that they live,” the king said. “Truly, I will. And if they do one day return, then they shall stare up upon their statues and know that we celebrated them.”
As the other lord and ladies sifted from the hall, Marcela waited. King Gregory continued to speak with his advisors—her father, General Korteg, Lady Isolde, and a wizard that Marcela recognised as someone that Hump had associated with.
“Do I know him?” Marcela asked Lorissa quietly.
“Wizard Aldric,” Lorissa said. “The Iron Hand. He was once a member of the Inquisition, and it sounds like he took Hump under his wing recently.”
“Ah. That explains it.”
The two of them continued to wait, when a familiar voice called to her from behind. “Marcela. It is good to see you.”
Lorissa nodded in the direction with a smile.
She turned and immediately smiled. “Vivienne! It’s been too long. How are—” She caught herself, the words faltering on her lips. “Forgive me. I spoke out of habit. Of course you are not well. I’m so sorry about Dylan and the others.”
Vivienne’s expression darkened slightly. Her robes shimmered with shades of blue and silver, her wand at her hip, plainly visible. She looked younger than Marcela remembered—less tired than during their time in Sheercliff, which was surprising, given everything. She’d never known practitioners to age backward. And despite all that had happened, she appeared refreshed in contrast to the exhausted face she remembered when she first left Sheercliff City.
“It has been difficult,” Vivienne said. “Dylan and Hump only really had me, but I have heard Bud and Emilia’s families have been notified, while I have sent word to Celaine’s kin in Drakalyn. From what King Gregory described, it seems Owalyn revealed herself here anyway. If that’s true, her family already knows.”
“A goddess was in Elenvine?” Marcela asked.
“It seems so,” Vivienne said. “A shame it was not one of our own.”
Marcela hid her nervousness at those words. Hump had never been one to shy away from questioning the gods, but she thought Vivienne would know better, especially after spending so much time around Marcela’s mother. The countess was incredibly loyal to her faith.
“Sorry,” Vivienne said. “I have become rather irritable of late. I approached you for a reason actually. Do you know a boy named Mav? I understand Hump was thinking of taking him as an apprentice.”
“I know him,” Marcela said. “I didn’t know he was considering that though. He’s the young man Hump helped off the streets.”
“Of course he did,” Vivienne said, shaking her head. “They were too good. The lot of them. It’s always the good ones that go. Hump always liked to play the part of a mercenary, but I never saw him turn down a person in need.”
Marcela smiled. “No, he did not. I know of him because Hump made me promise to find Mav’s sister in the warlock stronghold in his stead. A girl in her teens who was taken by the warlocks. What do you want from the boy?”
“Is that so?” Vivienne said. “I only wished to find him. Dylan mentioned him in his letters and I thought to check in on him. Though I don’t know where to find him.”
“The Rike Estate,” Marcela said. “Emilia’s family took him into their training.”
“Then I shall stop by. What will you do now?”
Marcela breathed a deep sigh. “In the morning I must return to the siege. In the coming days, the stronghold will fall. If you see Mav, tell him I intend to keep Hump’s promise to him.”
“Good,” Vivienne said. “Though I shall wait if you do not mind. Hope is good, but if things do not work out, I fear it would only make things worse.”
“Whatever you deem best.”
“Ladies,” a man called. Marcela turned to find Wizard Aldric approaching, his cane tapping on the tiled floor.
Vivienne scowled. “What do you want?”
If Aldric was bothered by her tone, he did not show it. He took out a silver flask and swigged it. “I came to ask if I might here more from you, Lorissa, about your insight into the Veil. Would the three of you perhaps join me for dinner?”
“I’m happy to share,” Lorissa said. “But why?”
“Because I too believe that they survived. And I intend to find them.”
“You are not the only one who believes that they survived.”
***
“How is it?” Dylan asked, looking at Hump.
Hump forced his eyes away from the busy workshop floor and gave him an appraising once over, then smirked. “Fits you perfectly. If I squint, I can hardly tell it’s not your real arm. It’s the extra bulk that really gives it away. Your old arm was so skinny.”
Beside them, Runesmith Tatsi made an irritated grunt. “I assure you, this is an accurate anatomical match,” she said stiffly.
She stood taller than even most of the altari Hump had met, with the broad-shouldered frame of a smith. Her dark scales gleamed in the firelight from the nearby forge.
Hump raised both hands sheepishly. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t a serious comment. I meant to make a jab at my friend, not your craftsmanship. It was in jest.”
“He’s not very funny in our world either,” Dylan said dryly.
Tatsi tilted her head back and let out a loud, hearty laugh. “Ah! I see it now. The wizard hides his fear behind humour. A shame he is the one with skinny arms though. You look far stronger than he does, Dylan.”
She barked another laugh, then returned to her work, making the final adjustments to the prosthetics.
“I wouldn’t say far stronger,” Hump mumbled. “Dylan’s ‘armless.”
Dylan snorted and wiggled the prosthetic. “Not for much longer, buddy! Better watch yourself.”
“No! No!” Tatsi snapped. “No moving.”
Hump watched her work, still getting the fit right on what remained of Dylan’s arm. The prosthetic itself was made of elder wood—an essence-rich and ancient tree that was thought to be almost extinct now. According to Princess Urella, this particular piece had been preserved in the temple vaults since before the Sundering and was worth a small fortune, and now it was strapped to Dylan’s shoulder.
High Priest Jerard had offered it without hesitation when the druid had requested his arm be made from wood, perhaps still shaken by the events in the Forgeheart. Whatever the reason, it seemed no expense was being spared now that Loften had intervened directly.
It had been a busy two weeks since then, but they were almost ready to depart from Urandel. Acalin had been integral in arranging transportation, and he had involved his family in the investigation into the monster attack that took place on Captain Hadbur’s ship. It had taken some convincing, but the captain had been convinced to take them to the dungeon too.
He wasn’t happy about it. “I’ve put my dungeon days behind me. Got rich. Now I’m looking to stick to safe work until I retire.”
It was a goal Hump could get behind. Unfortunately, they needed someone they could trust, and Captain Hadbur was the closest thing to that they could find.
In this world where they knew nobody, Hump could only cross his fingers that the people that had made a good first impression didn’t have too many dark secrets later down the line.
Dylan’s arm was the only major item that remained.
Dylan had asked Hump to come along for moral support. Now that Hump was there, he found himself enthralled by the workshop halls. Everywhere he looked there were intricate artifacts, carved with the layers of tiny, complex runes that the altari specialised in. Of everything, little could match Dylan’s new arm. From the elegantly shaped fingers to the intricate pattern of runes set into the smooth, polished wood surface.
“That should be done,” Runesmith Tatsi said. “Now pour your essence into the prosthetic.”
“How much?” Dylan asked.
“All you can give. You are connecting the prosthetic to your essence channels. The more you can give it, the better the connection, and the more deeply imbedded your essence patterns will be. When done right, you will be able to control the arm as if it is an extension of yourself.”
“What if he does it wrong?” Hump asked.
Tatsi shrugged. “Then he’ll flail around like a drunken bird.”
Dylan gave him a flat stare. “I don’t know why I thought bringing you along would be helpful.”
Hump shrugged. “Too late to change your mind now.”
Tatsi smiled at Dylan. “Do not worry. Some never achieve full control, but I’m told your magic is similar to my gifts from Loften. In that case, you will likely take to this easier than most.”
Dylan nodded once. “Alright. Let’s begin. Please give me some space.”
Tatsi took a couple of steps back and sat down on her workbench, while Hump watched from the side, activating Spirit Sight. He’s been messing around, but in truth he was glad to be there. While the altari were proving themselves to be mostly useful allies, he still preferred to see the process for himself, especially as his friend was going to rely on it for combat.
Dylan closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, and Hump saw the shift immediately. A gentle pulse beneath the skin—essence welling up inside Dylan, rising like the sun on the horizon. It tugged at Hump’s attention like a magnet, his senses drawn instinctively to the suddenly dense essence.
The elder wood arm glowed a vibrant green, like the sun through green leaves. Light threaded through the runes and channels like flowing sap, illuminating every etched symbol and seam. The runes flared to life in turn, until the entire arm radiated with vitality. The air filled with a comforting warmth as living energy wrapped around Dylan, cloaking him, shining over the surroundings and shading them in green.
Still, Dylan pushed more essence into his arm. The light built, until the entire workshop was cast in it. The runes were almost blindingly bright, the sensation of life and warmth growing stronger. And then there was a change. Small buds sprouted from the wood. A delicate twig burst from just above his elbow, unfolding into a single leaf that glowed with the same green.
Dylan opened his eyes and stared down at the arm. His fingers curled and uncurled smoothly.
“Amazing,” Tatsi said. “High Priest Jerard had warned me that you were powerful and to use our most advanced techniques to compensate, but I didn’t expect you to actually push them to their limits. The wooden prosthetic was an unusual request, but I can see it now. Your connection to nature has done something to it.”
“It hasn’t ruined it, has it?” Dylan asked.
“Not at all. The reason we use bronze is because it is most closely tied to the Maker’s Mark and his gifts too. Try moving your fingers again. Try various motions.”
Dylan held up his hand and went through them, flexing and clenching. He picked up a pencil from the bench and manipulated it through his fingers.
A broad smile broke out on Dylan’s face. “Thank you, Tatsi. This is incredible. It feels like my own arm.”
The runesmith folded her arms, eyes gleaming with pride. “You have taken to it better than anyone I have worked with. I am impressed.”
“I have a technique of my own that is quite similar to using this,” Dylan explained, summoning a small seed to the palm of the wooden hand. A vine sprouted from it, snaking toward Tatsi slowly. “I’m already used to manipulating additional appendages, so this feels very natural.”
“Now you’re just showing off,” Hump said.
“I would expect nothing less from those that have come here to free the Maker,” Tatsi said. “I am only glad that I could do a little to help.”
“More than a little,” Dylan said.
“Do you feel strong with it?” Hump asked.
“I think so. Hard to tell.” Dylan looked at Tatsi. “Do you have anything heavy I could lift.”
“Try this,” Tatsi said, smacking the side of a nearby anvil with a clang.
Dylan reached out and lifted it with one hand, the wooden fingers tightening effortlessly around the metal. He lifted it easily.
“How was it?” Hump asked.
Dylan looked at him with a raised brow, surprised. “Strong.”
“It can do more,” Tatsi said. “Try again, but channel more essence through the limb.”
This time, the anvil rose even more easily.
Hump held out the druid’s quarterstaff. “Perhaps you will know your strength better if you grasped your staff.”
Dylan took it with a grin, holding it in both hands. He gave it a flourish, slightly clumsy with the weapon, but still managing. “This is going to suit me even more than I expected!”
Comments
George R
Thanks for the chapter
NameGame
"I might here more from you" typo, hear. Thanks for the chapter. Looking forward to seeing how that arm works in the mid-term.
