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Nero Walker, Book 3 Ch.45 (160)
🕑 Added 2024-04-24 22:30:01 +0000 UTCArch-mage Jennings mentally flicked through the various research papers and historical accounts that caught his eye in the local archives. Their contents were infinitely more interesting to him than having to listen to the useless prattle going on in the council of mages’ hall of magic. They’d been at this for days and he didn’t feel like hearing them once again argue pointlessly over the best way to combat the Tower of Fate’s influence throughout the kingdom.
Since this all started, each and every day more information had been collected on the fate-weavers’ legally gray practices, and their alarmingly prolific influence with the nobles of the cities that had allowed a Tower of Fate to be erected within their walls. After a while, he’d stopped reading the reports as they were becoming mind-numbing and repetitive. Yet, the council of magic was still demanding his presence via long range scry-link for these meetings.
Perhaps if he were there, in Hennings, he could convince them to leave him be and deal with it on their own. Besides, that way if he had to deal with all this regrettably important work, he could at least do it from the comfort of his own office.
Originally, he’d come to Dorchester to watch over the anomaly, but with how annoying the essence disturbances were getting outside the walls, it really wasn’t worth the effort at the moment. Although, if he’d really wanted to, he could have probably set up a permanent secondary frequency modulation within the tower to aid in his scrying.
But did he really want to watch the young man prancing around the wilds, dealing with these low-tier essence events? By his calculations, nothing major should happen in the next few weeks, so he might as well enjoy some personal relaxation time. He was sure that Mage-adept Newbanks was more than capable of handling everything that needed doing.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Arch-mage Mathers’ loud voice shout at him through the scry-link that had become an ever-present connection between his office in Dorchester and the council chambers back in Hennings.
“Jennings! I asked you a question! Pay attention to the meeting dammit. It’s because of your fumbling over there in that backwater that we’re coordinating a shadow tower war on a scale that hasn’t been seen since the time of the kingdom’s founding,” he said with some venom.
Before Jennings managed to reply, Arch-mage Mathers visibly took control of himself, then said, “However, your input, while appreciated, is not actually needed. So, if you’d like to retire and play with your magic out there in Dorchester, all you have to do is ask. But, if you are going to participate, lead, and organize this war, then you’d best start remembering how to conduct yourself as a council mage of the highest order.” By the time he was done, his voice filled with the righteous fury of a disgruntled school-teacher admonishing an absent-minded student that had been nothing of a disappointment to him.
Arch-mage Jennings’ frowned, unhappy with being called out in front of the entire council for not paying attention to the meeting. ‘I’m not even in the room! What does it matter if I’m not particularly interested in hearing about how the propaganda campaign to counter the Tower of Fate’s expansion plans is going in the eastern Marshes,’ he thought to himself, refering to the last thing he had heard before he stopped paying attention.
Yet, he was not the preeminent mage in the kingdom for nothing, so he wisely kept his mouth shut until he was able to carefully formulate a reply.
Even though he was still nominally in charge of the council of mages, Mathers had been running the place for the past few months, and doing a damn-site better than he ever did. Jennings would be the first to admit that he hadn’t done his own paperwork in years. In fact, his skill levels in delegation and management were far and away more advanced than any of his leadership skills. Regardless, he had no intention of stepping down, or even admitting to any shortcomings, real or imagined.
Using his link to quickly review the meeting’s automated minutes, Jennings found the record of Mathers’ question. With his prodigious mental power, it took him less than a few seconds to peruse the relevant paperwork. Those seconds were easily bought by the gentle clearing of his throat. Having researched, internally debated, and formulate his opinion, he had no trouble addressing the council as if he were a scholar with a prodigious background in the subject.
“If you’d like my opinion, then I’m more than happy to provide it. I believe that the proposal for personal collaboration with the local nobles through the use of court-mages will meet with limited success at best, and in the long term, it would more than likely ultimately lead to disaster. If we were to copy the Tower of Fate’s method of success, then we will be choosing to fight them from a position of weakness. They have had years to build up their connections, while ours are limited to business relations within the scope of the standardized economy. By trying to universally adopt a subculture of favors and interconnected business dealings, we’d be opening ourselves up to the same corruptible influences that have turned the Tower of Fate into what it is today. So, I would caution you all to think very carefully before proceeding with this proposal,” he said, skillfully adopting the air of a wise and all-knowing arch-magician.
The arch-mage who’d developed the plan in question huffed loudly in order to draw attention to himself. Not willing to debate Jennings, he replied harshly, “Then what exactly do you propose? You’ve done nothing but demand action, without giving us any hint of a direction. Do you expect us to charge into their Towers and physically bring them down, city by city?!? Do you know how many lives would be lost? How much collateral damage we’d cause? The council of leadership wouldn’t stand for it, and we’d be wiped out right alongside those fate-weaving imbeciles.”
Jennings nodded sagely, then replied, “After careful consideration, and with the benefit of our deep research into the Tower of Fate’s reach and practices, I see only one path forward. We must meet their influence with the only counter which is impervious to retaliation…. Logic! We will create comprehensive overviews of the study of fate, and the history of predictive magic. In each city we will post lesson plans, historical social accounts, details of the limitations and drawbacks to the practice, and above all, we will never dissemble or provide rhetoric.”
Arch-mage Mathers nodded along as he listened to Jennings proposal. “That is actual an extremely intriguing idea. The reason so many people follow the Tower of Fate is because they don’t understand the concept of fate magic. To them, it’s a powerful and incomprehensible magic that is reserved for those who devote themselves to the High-Prophet. For most people, the subject is not something they’d ever consider researching. I don’t think most city archives even have limited access to the magic, as it was categorized as a restricted subject,” he said.
Another council mage chimed in, “We’ll have to be careful to only cover the outlines and descriptions on the subject. We can’t violate the terms of the secrecy accords. But I think just publicly defining the concept as a style of magic will eliminate most of the allure surrounding the practice.”
Jennings smiled and added, “Hundreds of years ago it worked with the religions, so I don’t see how the Tower of Fate will handle it any better than they did. Furthermore, while religions still exist due to their undeniable benefits and rewards, the Tower of Fate is not delivering on what they promise. We’ll use the backdrop of what is happening here in Dorchester as the reason for our focus on the topic. In that way, the fate-weavers will have no rebuttal to our stance. After all, it is impossible to refute reality. You can misrepresent it, massage it, hide it, but you can never combat it directly. Ours is the study of magic, and if there is one thing that we’ve learned, it’s that the world’s identity is much stronger than our own.”
The entire council chamber was quiet as they digested Arch-mage Jennings’ words. The man was arguably the wisest man in the kingdom, and his thoughts and opinions carried great weight in the halls of power. Like always, his words held meaning beyond the scope of what average mages like them could comprehend.
While everyone was basking in the brilliance of their leader, Arch-mage Mathers received an emergency update from one of their ‘friends’ in the Hennings hall of leadership. His eyebrows rose to his forehead and his jaw dropped open in shock.
Like a bomb going off, the awed silence was interrupted by Arch-Mage Mathers shouting, “Dammit, Jennings! Why didn’t you tell us that the anomaly has been put up for ‘unique citizen’ status? Has the council of leaderships envoy arrived in Dorchester yet? If we’d known about this, we could have included a member of the Tower of Magic into the retinue. Now we’ll be starting the game at a disadvantage! We can’t let others co-opt someone of his potential!”
Arch-mage Jennings had lost count of how many times someone had angrily asked him why he hadn’t bothered to tell someone something. As such, his instinctive response was usually to reply that ‘they didn’t need to know’, or ‘they’ll understand his hesitance to include them in the matter if they were willing to give it some thought’. Yet, here and now, the words just died in his throat. ‘How in the infinite hells did no one bother to tell ME that the little shit was up for another class promotion. And on what grounds are they making him a unique! Even I’M not a unique!’ he thought to himself, his mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to come up with a coherent response to Mathers’ justifiable outrage.
Figuring that he should probably start paying closer attention to what was going on around him, Jennings closed the various research papers and historical records he’d been perusing and tried to regain what little composure he could muster under the circumstances.
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During their brief trek through the mountains, Nero found the Ripper’s style of combat rather brutal. The few occasions they’d encountered beasts or monsters, he’d seen them do just as their name suggested and ‘ripped’ them apart.
Whatever weapons they were using seemed to be enchanted, because the wounds were gory enough to make Nero’s stomach churn a little. Even with how much combat he’d seen, it was still disturbing to see limbs flying off into the air, and meat hanging off the monsters in bloody chunks. He’d gotten used to seeing clean cuts and slices, and what the Rippers were doing to their enemies was something else entirely.
But he had to admit they were effective. In no time at all, he found himself once again heading through an unfamiliar gate into another new section of Dorchester.
This time, the buildings were all rectangular boxes of stone, each painted with brightly colored paints to differentiate them from the houses and shops around them. Yet, the biggest difference he could see was that there weren’t any trees or flowers on the street level. However, he could see the tops of the buildings had large trees providing shade, and every one of them hinted at private gardens hiding among the roofs above his head as he and the rest of his party made their way through the shopping district. Even in the fantasy novels he’d read, he’d never come across a style of architecture quite like what he was seeing right now.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed much time to admire the sights, since the entire company of Rippers all but dragged him and his party through the streets, directly to the local teleporter so that they could deliver them to wherever it was they were ordered to bring them.
Before long, he was once again at Dorchester’s keep, the center of power for the entire city. Oddly, while he had expected to be separated from the rest of his party, apparently that wasn’t plan.
When the Ripper Captain dropped them off, he’d told them that they were all requested to present themselves to the general, and that he was happy to be of service. Nero barely had a chance to thank the man before he and his troop of incredibly effective violence bringers left to go do whatever it was they did when they weren’t delivering Nero’s to the general.
The keep’s butlers, aides, chaplains, or whatever they were called, led Nero and his party through the halls, dodging well-wishers and fancy people not-so-politely requesting a moment of his time. Eventually the keep’s employees were forced to hide the entire party in a waiting room, telling them that the someone would be along shortly to collect them.
While he’d been to the keep before, this time was proving to be an entirely different experience. When he had been just a noble, people were curious about him. But now, they were peeking around corners just to get a look at him. If there had been cell-phones here, he felt like he would have been assaulted by teams of selfie-demanding teens hanging off his arms like shackles.
Thoroughly unsettled by how quickly everything had changed, Nero found himself sitting on a comfy couch, still wearing his combat leathers, clutching his satchel in front of him like it was the only possession he had left and he too uncomfortable to make himself at home in the unfamiliar room. His usual care-free attitude had been stifled by the continuous assault of absurdities he’d found himself trying to process.
Looking up, he saw Rose smiling widely while pouring him a cup of coffee. The fact that she was playing waitress while still being covered with dust and dirt from their stint in the mountains, her hair frizzy with grime and her leathers dirty beyond all belief was almost more than he could handle.
Leaning forward, he picked up the coffee Rose had delivered to take a sip of the glorious beverage he’d been missing. The feeling of the bitter drink warming his mouth made the neck muscles in his upper back begin to unclench.
To his right, he saw Nick and Wesker calmly discussing the likely progression of the kobald war, while Cathleen was sitting off to the side of the room on the floor, probably meditating or something. He watched as Rose took a seat off to the left, pulling out some supplies from her pack to do something with her bow. ‘She probably goes through a lot of bow-strings, huh,’ he thought to himself.
Shaking the useless thoughts out of his head, he took a few breathes to catch up with all that was happening.
The last time he’d been here, he’d felt right at home, and at that time, he didn’t feel intimidated in the least. The fancy décor and servants hadn’t made him feel out of place at all. So what had changed, he wondered? Was it really just the creepy fans watching him like a he was some sort of oddity?
Closing his eyes, he let himself sink into his senses, examining his feelings and the overlapping fields in the ether around him. Time passed, and his muscles began to loosen. His nerves calmed down, and he slowly started to feel like himself again.
‘It’s the feeling in the ether. That’s what’s changed. I can feel the disconnect with the people and the city all around me. What used to be a collective feeling of humanity and community is now a feeling of exclusion. Aside from maybe Nick, everyone is giving off a vibe through their essence field that I’m no no longer one of them. Not to mention, I can feel that those asshole mages are watching me again. I guess they were having trouble following me in the wilds, and now that I’m back in the city they are eager to catch up on their favorite soap opera,’ he thought to himself, a feeling of satisfaction with having isolated what had been bothering him since he arrived back in Dorchester permeated his entire being.
Now that he had a better idea of what was causing his anxiety, he felt the uncomfortable feeling clinging to his psyche slowly disappear. For him, it had always been easy to dismiss things he had no control over. However, the unknown was probably the only thing he really feared. Nero’s worst nightmare was being confronted with something that he didn’t have an opinion on. Right or wrong, his poorly supported opinions were all he needed to get through anything.
He could be facing a demon-lord, about to be tortured with all manner of unspeakable terrors, and his psyche would remain calm due to the fact that he thought Tim Curry’s portrayal of Darkness in the movie Legend was better… in his opinion at least.
He felt his patented grin return, once again comfortable in the fact that other people were being stupid, and consequently their opinions didn’t matter to him in the least.
Almost as if the world had been patiently waiting for Nero to get himself under control, the doors to the parlor they were waiting in opened, and one of the aides said, “Thank you for your patience. The general and the council will see you now. Please, allow me to escort you to your meeting.”
‘Alright,’ he thought. ‘Let’s see what the nobles want from me this time. But if they mention marriage one more time, I’m taking a flame-thrower to this place,’ he promised himself.
Comments
Aresswe
Awesome thanks for the chapter!
Ocean Breeze
When we first met Jennings he seemed impossibly powerful, and almost godlike in comparison to even the strongest people of the city. Its really cool to see some stuff about the king who is even above him.
