Remmus Mythweaver. The Grandmaster of the arts, the sovereign of the magical kingdom of Torlak. Being the grandmaster, he has a special role of monitoring, governing, and protecting the mystical arts taught uniquely to the citizens of his country and protecting the needs of the people. Over the years, he has learned of so many ways of doing such a thing. Firstly, he can always fall back on the judgment of the council of Six Arms, advisors to help guide the nation in its smaller sectors. He has made friends among them, and he trusts their judgment sometimes to get things done. Though they are wise men and women, however, he finds that going out and seeing for your own eyes often yielded some of the best results. this is something he has found himself doing more and more often. Either by disguising himself to go through the street unabated or venturing into whatever unique situation found in the ruins of the old world, he finds a bit of solace doing so, despite the anxious pleas from the council to refrain from doing such reckless acts.
None of these things had determined his rule, however. What determined it was the safety of his home taking priority over anything else. To protect his citizens, to protect the teachings of magic, and the land they walk upon. It was during the civil war of the clans when Torlak was diplomatically twisted into joining this conflict, did he see the dangers of Torlakian magic used on the battlefield. And when he returned from that battlefield, he knew that change must come if he is to bring lasting peace to his home. The first step was to restrict the ability of secrets to be shared with any other nations. No one showing an ability in manipulating aura, the universal source of mortal magic, is forbidden to step foot onto Torlak. this may not last forever, but it is much easier to keep an eye on any mages. The next was restricting trade and making Torlak as self-sustaining as possible. He will never fully cut the diplomatic ties that Torlak, Hath, the Umani, and the Thirian Empire share. No matter how strenuous their relationship may be, the council agreed with him that if the time comes, having allies as powerful as those three will come to the benefit of Torlak.
But, he was naïve in one state. One obstacle to an everlasting piece he dreaded to confront, even in his own home. That threat that calls itself Talin. A perversion, in his eyes, of the very values Torlak has had for eons. And at some point in time, he was grateful that they had been squashed by his own hands. But it turns out that what he thought was a dried carcass of Talin had turned out to merely be the shed remains of what it had been. That Talin, in the satisfaction and celebration that he shared with his comrades, had in fact turned into something far more unsettling. They have returned and savagely attacked one of the members of Theurgy, kidnapping one of their own children. And soon, they may even declare war on the entire world. All their squashing was for nothing. And even at that, he is deemed unworthy to draw more power from the pendants, as Fate determined himself. That honor, that curse, is to be bestowed onto another victim, an innocent bystander who must now dawn the sword of justice and continue a fight that rightfully should have ended a decade ago.
That conversation he had with the former members festers in his mind, feeding his fears. James has sent Celia's son, Lyse, to discuss what may come next for Theurgy and find his sister. He couldn't help but wonder exactly the type of boy that Celia and Wilbur have crafted. What values he had? What he holds to be the answer to peace. but most importantly, is he fit to be one of them? As he sat at his desk, looking pointedly at the door some dozens of paces away, he couldn't help but ponder. There is so much he doesn't know, and that ached him. He learned all that magic could teach, and beyond. He learned the dangers this world is capable of, and beyond. He learned the trenches of depravity, and so much more. And yet, as the sun rises, and he must now face the ugly monster of Talin, he realizes that though he is the grandmaster, the supposed all-knowing, he knows nothing at all. He doesn't know what they are planning. He doesn't know who may be leading them, this time around, though he has suspicions. their weapons, how much they have evolved. Who they will summon to combat them. How far does it go, and how much are they hiding?
Only time will tell. But all things considered, nothing has changed. The only difference between now, and a decade ago, is that he now sits at the highest seat of power in the mystical world. He holds the knowledge of magic that may even rival the gods. But his wish never changed. He only has one goal. And it is to protect his home.
(X)
Lyse looked out to the land of Torlak as the Nautilus Omega made a shady docking at one of the available ports. The Raven's vessel settled not too far away but they were ready to unload far before Moxie's crew. Those floating islands he saw before were much bigger than he had anticipated. Each was about the size of a small estate, just big enough for one or two buildings to be laid atop each. Some were fortresses, sloped orange and red tiles roofs with Archer's nests and crevices. That same style echoed to the rest of the docks, all the roofs sloping towards the sea with innate carvings and sculptures inlaid into the wood or stone. The city's colors created a weird effect as the morning sun cast orange bars across the roofs. Everything seems to be lifted somewhat like some mystical force made the city intangible. It was truly an unforgettable view from where they stood for any person who was not accustomed to such sights.
"Alright cubs," Makyra shouted to Lyse and Makyra. "We're leaving within the day. No chance in all the hands of Fate is I staying in this port to find out the healers' results. Be quick about your business."
"Of course," Lyse waved. He only took a pouch, the remains of his funds, a few they were, and the letter that would get him to the Grandmaster. While he was wonderous at what he may encounter, he was also terrified. His setting foot in Torlak, an act so simple and necessary, is a danger comparable to few other places. If he is to be discovered, he will be executed. But he wasn't here to stop now. He has not come this far to turn tail and run away. The dangers that bear down on him were already beyond regular comprehension. There was no going back now. Although, he wished that his mother could join him. She has mostly recovered from her injuries, but traveling for her is possibly even more dangerous than it is for him. Her status as a farmer's wife was the greatest set of armor and could have given her. But out here. Out in this world, she was as bare as a newborn. Lyse promised her to return safely, and Makyra promised to protect Lyse. Although, as they prepared to depart, Lyse couldn't help but noticed a small discomfort, a reluctance to her movements as she put on her armor. He never saw her like this before. She was often confident and level-headed. More so than him. He never really saw her waver in such a way. But it was also somewhat comforting to him as well. He was not the only one that may be out of their element, or possibly have forebodings of what was to come for them.
The morning was young, but the streets were busy. As they waved away Edlund and the others, they immediately found themselves in a surge of a crowd, mostly merchants headed to the market or bazaar near the center of the city. They were headed in a similar direction. Makyra led him a little further east, where government and military establishments nestled around one another. In the meantime, Lyse took this opportunity to absorb as much as he could. It barely could dawn on him that everyone, every person from a child to an adult could perform some kind of magic. It was apparent in much. Children who took the early sun played in the city squares, tagging each other with small wands, applying small effects or such. He saw a small boy turn another into a frog, who hopped around in surprise before moments later reverting to their original forms. Most wielded an assortment of objects, from rods to ivory staffs, a stack of what looked like playing cards at their waste. A book or two cradled in arms. There was no one color to describe the people of Torlak. No one color, no one descriptive term. It was just a ball of exoticism that walked about. Now and again he's seeing someone with golden embroidery and a belt made from multicolored fabric with all sorts of patterns to accompany them. Men often wore formal dress shirts, white or grey, and contrasting maroon and blue waistcoats, very rarely black. Their black leather shoes were buckled with either bronze or gold caps. The women wore either skirts or narrow dresses. Many were of simple designs, but there were a few with a mixture of textures and colors that may have been imported from Umani merchants. Bracelets, necklaces, charms, and jewelry were everywhere. He has never seen such wealth adorn one man, even the nobility he has seen would appear dull next to even one Torlakian citizen. It's a wonder how he could blend in if he tried. His dark cloak and bland colored gambeson would stand out in its normalcy.
Sometimes, he would see uniformed men patrolling, although loosely, through the city. Their uniform was a striking scarlet red, white undergarments and golden lining their coats. Each carried a steel rod in hand, often carved with what appeared to be small geometric symbols, some kind of language he knew to be the Torlakian sigils of magic. They operated in clusters of four or five, and the crowds parted easily amongst them, and sometimes even greeted them.
"That's the military police," Lyse asked quietly to Makyra, who stepped quicker as they passed them by not too far away.
"Yes. They are called the Cardinal Guard. They are led by one of the council members who oversee military activity. The closest thing they have to a Paladin of security. That woman is quite the monster."
"So you've met her?" he asked.
"Ever so briefly," she told him. "And thankfully it was so. She is known for being quite abrasive. Her name is Fiora Sol'Louché."
He was curious about how mages performed in combat. He never has seen one and never has gotten many contexts of them. The closest thing to magic is what the gods have given him, and he doubted Torlakian magic performed even remotely similarly. Though, seeing the resources that Talin appears to have, he will not be surprised when he finds himself against such mages. What he found a bit more concerning was the destination they were now rearing on. This section of the city was separated from the others, not by walls, but by a large trench extended to unknown depths. A metal railing kept people from wandering in, despite the guards posted every so few meters along the perimeter. These soldiers wore coats a little shorter and thick. Like the military police, they held a steel rod carved in the form of trees, rocks, animals, or even ghastly faces. Instead of the standard scarlet red, they wore dark blues and gold. They wore helmets, bell-shaped with no faceplate and wings fluttering the side of their face. the armor, and plate, seemed rather thin. But as he used zoi to sense their aura, he saw that the armor was giving off its own distinct aura as well.
They did nothing as they found themselves at the bridge. It was enough to fit twenty men side by side. Few men and women entered or exited, but all took very particular notice of the Thirian and Liontarian pair walking across. They too did nothing of course but watched. This building in particular operated as the parliament house, the councils' headquarters, and subsequent governing bodies. this was the capital of the administrating efforts of Torlak, and it was daunting. The layout was very rectangular, a central building made from dark brownstone and sleek sloping roofs. It was architecture similar to some of the ruins found in Torlak, or those a little east of the clans, and into the outlands. This helped invoke a sense of immensity, as indeed it was among the taller structures that Lyse has ever seen. Six towers, each varying in height, still managed to fade into the morning mist. The front door was a set of double doors covered in more bronze inlays depicting scenes of six men in a circle, hands pointed towards a star. Each seemed to represent the six major elements of magic, fire, earth, wind, water, light, and dark. Then, several more huddled around them, holding what appeared to be fans. The representatives of the tertiary elements, what the Torlakian called the arcane arts. That was the extent that Lyse knows, and most of what any knight knows of this rigid and structured practice.
At least a dozen guards were waiting at this door. Known took notice of them till they approached the entrance, in which two of the guards stomped their staffs on the ground, and the hairs on the back of Lyse's neck stirred. There was suddenly some green, almost transparent barrier crackling with energy, that separates the inside from where they stood. One of the others stepped forth in a booming voice. The accent of a Torlakian was thick but understandable.
"I'm going to need to see some identification miss," he said, eyeing her and her armor. "A Thirian, I presume then?"
"Aye," Makyra confirmed and gestured to Lyse. "I'm escorting this gentleman here to see the grandmaster. He's an ambassador from Liontari."
"Liontari," the man raised an eyebrow, "Come such a long way, haven't you? Lucky as well, the Grandmaster just arrived from a . . . personal expedition to a small tomb in central Acurfa. So early not even the council have gotten time to chew him out, as far as I'm aware."
She seemed half-conscious as he read the letter, skimming through it and not seeming worried about uncovering some secret plot through it. It would be rather difficult for a knight or a spy to make it this far past the ravens, who guarded the country so intensely, and there hadn't been any major attack on the country itself since over five hundred years ago when the dark isle first appeared. Lyse did not blame how lax they must have been in their regulations. After the brief read over the letter, he ordered the men to let them pass. The green barrier dissipated, and they were allowed into the anti-chamber of the main parliament house. The room was rather large, with massive collonades in three rows lining both sides. The tiles they walked on were a web of geometric symbols that made Lyse's toes tickle. Men in robes similar to those he saw amongst the Cardinal Guard. They were carrying around parchments and books that nearly toppled as they carefully glided from one room to another. There were a few guards within as well, making rounds and occasionally following one of the red-robed men and women. All words echoed well here, and Lyse noticed looking up at the hovering roof, air rushing in to make hollow sounds as the ocean breeze washed the land. A domed ceiling, adorned with brass and gold, marked the middle of this space. And at the very end, a large curved desk with a dozen guards surrounded it.
Three men stood there, receiving large volumes of books that they subsequently took into a back room. But it was more than books. Artifacts. Chests of gold. Even a whole coffin lay across the granite table, waiting to be carried to be cataloged. Many of the ones who brought in these treasures rarely had uniforms, some of them could have been mistaken as merchants with how rugged they appeared. But Lyse suspected that these were mere guildsmen, mages that did not wish to serve the military but wanted to make a living. A system that was an echo of the system the clans produced. They too barely gave them a passing glance. They were only there to make sure the clerks knew who brought them the goods. Lyse kept a close eye on them, however. He was not used to the apathy they regarded him, a foreigner in their greatest halls. They should be more careful than this. But instead, they shuffled along without a care. At least the guards were less lenient, their hands firmly on their staffs as they watched them approach. Lyse and Makyra walked up to one of the only open clerks available, a lanky-looking woman with a grey laced dress, and spectacles resting on her nose. She looked older than even his mother, the gray overpowering her once rusty hair. But she looked down expectantly as they did reach her.
"How may I help you?" she asked in a smooth, practiced tone.
"We are here to speak with Grandmaster Remmus MythWeaver," Makyra carefully took the parchment from Lyse's hands and placed it on the desk before her.
The woman seemed to assess them as if now noticing their distinctive clan attire and her Thirian armor. She briefly glanced at Lyse, who shrunk back as if trying to evade her gaze and make himself look less imposing.
She finally looked at the form, and by the time she finished, she placed it back onto the table with a sigh, plagued by weariness. "The Grandmaster is open for discussion. A lesser thing, since he rarely stays in the capital. You should find him in the council chamber. I shall have two guards escort you there immediately."
Makyra and Lyse both nodded. She seemed to give them a look once more but shook her gaze as she saw yet another band of men with large sacks walking through the door. Lyse heard the muffled curse that came just before the practiced greeting. Two of the twelve guards immediately broke their formation, one going before them and another trailing behind. They kept out of arm's reach of either of them but didn't appear hostile. They led them to a set of stairs at the far eastern corner of this chamber that led to the next floor up. Almost no one came this far. Only guards could be seen, roaming around on guard, groups of five or more this far in. Lyse counted fifty men and women alone as they walked the halls until they came to a chamber door near the very center of the building. The smooth dividing wall columns that decorate this portion ended at another set of doors, this time closed. Ten more mages stood guard there, the only difference in their appearance was a white cape that draped down their right side. the mage before them gave a silent hand signal. A guard took out a pair of keys, unlocked the doors, and then stepped aside. The two who escorted them stopped a few dozen paces away, and now they have been allowed to meet with one of the most powerful men in the world. Makyra may not appear daunting, but Lyse felt an unease in his steps as they walked closer and closer. So many scenarios played out in his mind, all empty not knowing the kind of person that awaited him. HE willed himself to push these notions to the side, and focus on moving forwards.
Makyra pushed the doors open. They swung with a noiseless drift. The table was empty for documents of any kind, bare, save for a bag sitting in one of the seats. But what took the spot of attention was a red gem, a ruby the size of a man's head at the very center of the table. Silver inlays formed a geometric sigil around it, a diamond surrounded by two circles, one circumscribed with the other. And in between the spaces a plethora of small glyphs. Lyse refrained from using aura on this though because his attention was grabbed by the two men in the middle of conversation instead.
One was an older man, salt and pepper black hair and an unkempt beard poking through poor grooming. He wasn't dressed in any uniform, but his dress was as fine as any who walked the streets. A blue-grey cape adorned his shoulders, a blue suit, and a vest, with a white undershirt beneath it. Lyse didn't have to use zoi to figure out how powerful he was. He rang with energy. But he was not the Grandmaster, as the man who stood beside him, although a little small in height, dwarfed him in the feeling he exuded. It was like facing the wind of a massive storm, an aura so potent that it could be felt before sensed. He dressed similarly to the man on this side, except for the dark red suit that he wore, and a matching cape with black inner clothes. His long black hair was braided down his back, a blue ribbon tied at the end. There was no need for a crown to signify who this man was. Despite his lanky build, he somehow exuded a reverence that made it sure how his words were meant to be taken. The only thing upsetting this was the grin he displayed as he went back and forth with the other man, who seemed unaffected by the Grandmaster's presence.
"I'm serious Remmus," he said. "I have had to cover for you how many times? My wife is pulling my hair for this. Be glad that I'm here and she's not."
"Do you think me incapable of handling business myself?" Remmus nearly chuckled. "I will talk to whomever when I am here. I make sure to report whatever I do and find."
"That's not the issue," the man pleaded. "When you're not here, the bureaucrats are running around with their heads cut off. New forms are to be drawn up for more guilds. New finds mean affirmation by our sovereign. What is to come when there is an emergency and you are not here to quell it?"
Remmus frowned then, maybe a moment of contemplation. Or perhaps a bitterness of such a topic being brought up in the first place Lyse thought the air seemed thick. But then, from the corner of his gaze, he met it with that of Lyse, and his grin returned to vitality. "My, what a sight. May I have a word with you later then, Magévo? It appears that I have visitors."
Magévo gave a disgruntled groan and a reluctant sigh. He looked over Lyse and Makyra briefly, Makyra a little longer so that Lyse. He took his bag from his seat, slumping the leather strap over his shoulder with apparent frustration. "Indeed, I will speak to you later then. Of course, if I make it here before my wife. I wish you Fate's favor."
"Of course," Remmus replied.
Magévo, gave them a last glance full of concern, before turning upwards. Lyse saw as arcs of lightning began to form around his body, between his arms fingers, and feet. And then, in a flash of light, he was gone, leaving only a rumble of invisible thunderclouds.
Remmus clapped, almost excitedly rounding the table towards them with a broad child-like smile. "Well then, it a pleasure to see you both here. Much a pleasure. I was going through the chewer there for a moment. Although, I doubt I am out of the seat just yet. They hate when I go on my little trips now and again. I hear you wish to speak to me?"
"Yes," Makyra said, handing the letter to him. Remmus looked down at the parchment, a dejected look on his face as it entered his spindly fingers. He seems to read it carefully, with far more scrutiny than any who encountered them so far in their journey. It was quite the sight to see him like this, so casual with a mere knight like him. But then he had to remind himself that who he was talking to was also a member of Theurgy. One of the so-called godslayers. He and his mother, along with James, shared a history that he is unaware of still. Perhaps it was something dear to see this letter, after so long of no communication.
"I see," he said slowly. "Well, I talked to your mother and your king not long ago. We talked briefly of the going-ons of Talin, and the reformation of the theurgy, for this new generation. But that isn't why you are here, is it lad?"
Lyse's face was stuck in confusion at the moment. "Wait, you spoke to my mother? When?"
"I see," he smirked. "She has really kept you away from all of this. If anything, she is a woman of integrity. You will learn things about godslayers you may deem unfathomable but is well within the reach of possibility. Even communication among vast distances isn't outside the realm of our party. Now tell me, why have you come to see me at this hour? I can tell this is not a casual visit."
"Of course," Lyse cleared his throat before speaking, making sure his words came out clear and cool. "I have come for something a bit more . . . personal, I'm afraid. Whatever method you used to communicate with my mother, I hope she explained the circumstances, and what has transpired as of late with Talin and our family. "
"I know what I need to know," Remmus lamented for a moment For a moment, Lyse recognized a familiar look. The energetic, almost extravagant look in his eyes turned melo0ncholy, much the same look that King James gave him not too long back. "Wilbur. He was a good man. Knows how to throw a mean left hook. He was also a man of integrity. And now his child comes to my door. And your sister. I fear for a fate far worse than any if she stays in the clutches of Talin."
"What do you mean?" Lyse feared whatever answer he may give to that.
"I don't mean to scare you now," Remmus told him. He seemed unafraid to get to the point, lacking the hesitance his mother or James would have at this moment. Lyse didn't know whether he lacked that or not. "You know enough of Talin to understand that their methods of getting what they want aren't exactly what I may call ethical. And there is nothing below them in that regard. Out of the simple fact that someone innocent is involved, that that person is the daughter of a dear friend, and the charge of Theurgy, there was no question that I am to help you. Even if you're a knight."
Lyse nodded gratefully. "I can not thank you more. But, how are you going to locate her? From what the knights have told us to front the attack, they lost the trail almost a mile out from the village."
"You must realize that I am the Grandmaster, do you," Remmus put a hand on Lyse's shoulder, very light and comforting. "There is not a single secret that can be kept from me. You being here is more than enough, and I will show you."
He turned back to the table with the giant gem. Lyse felt anxious all of the sudden. He was going to bear witness to magic, actual magic. While it has always been a mysterious, almost unpredictable thing spoken in the clans, it did hold its wonder. And perhaps his understanding of the pendant, and its magical properties, have made him a bit more curious and intrigued by the process of Torlakian magic, and how it may relate. He almost unconsciously slipped into the void, to see the process unfold before him from the stance of aura. From his inner coat, took out a large tome that was holstered against his side. The large book was splitting at the spine but he handled it gingerly as he walked over to the table. The book itself didn't seem unusual at first. But then they watched as he flipped through the rigid papers rapidly, passing by chapter after chapter of notes, more sigils, and various texts that lay within. The speed at which he did this clued in that he was used to handling such a thing. However, Lyse found no organizational system within the tome itself. The pages were unnumbered and it took a few seconds to differentiate one set of text from another. Some of it even appeared to be in another language entirely. But that did not stop the Grandmaster. He paused on one page, a large circle covering an entire page with a line of text on another. He held out his hand towards the ruby without looking at it, and it immediately began to glow as he traced the sigil with his finger.
"How curious," he whispered comprehensively. They watched as the table, the silver inlay, began to glow faintly. A mist of aura rose subtly, obscuring the table from sight for a few moments before receding one more, and revealing an image of the entire world just hovering above the smooth surface. Mountains and rivers were textured, oceans lively rippling and contorting under some unseen force. From the Umani lands to the Kingdoms far to the east, all were visible Every great forest, every nourishing land, and great valley bloomed with color. As Lyse was distracted, Remmus plucked a hair from Lyse's own head, and held it in his grasp, continuing to trace the circle in his tome almost rhythmically.
"This is an old spell. I scribed it to locate any member of Theurgy if they were to go missing. But it's a little difficult to do so with people I have never met. Almost like picking someone out of a crowd. That's where you come in. Describe your sister to me," he told Lyse. "The more specific the more accurate this spell can operate."
Lyse hesitated out of steady comprehension, but he knew it futile to question the process of how this functioned. "She has long blond hair like mine, half down her back. She's paler than I, but her eyes are a bit more vivid in color. Her face is round, like my mother's, though people say she shares a lot of my father's pointed features. I believe she was wearing a gown when she was kidnapped. Is that enough?"
"Thank you, son, that should be fine," he said, then turned back to the map holding the strand of Lyse's hair, and finally placed the piece of hair onto the map. All the candles and lanterns lit on the walls seemed to dull as he turned his attention to the sigil. It began to glow with a white light that showered the entire room. The strand of Lyse's hair began to glow as well with a small golden light. And then, disappeared, leaving only that golden aura behind. As the Remmus continued to focus, the glow began to spread out in long ribbons of light that snaked across the map. It did not take long and began to coalesce around a single point. Lyse immediately was at Remmus's side to see the result of such magic. Remus's focus was unbroken, as the location was narrowed further and further down. The eastern portion of the clans. then, Arkouda. Southern Arkouda, close to the border between it and Tigri. then, a specific mountain chain. And finally the mountain itself. Mount Kryn, the mountain that jutted from the sea. The lights settled, along with the radiant aura that surrounded the table at the time.
Lyse studied it. He ingrained in his memory the layout of this land, the closest sea, and just how far from the steep cliffs that jutted into the southern sea. He did this till he no longer needs the map to visualize where this palace was. Remmus looked carefully at this point as well, noting its location. Makyra took the letter, and onto the back made a quick and simple map.
"This place," Remmus noted. "I know of it. It's a prison that we uncovered during the war. It's a prison nestled within the mountain. It was once an old fortress. They throw things in there to rot. It won't be easy to infiltrate, but it isn't the most fortified location of them all. The nature of the cells makes an escape from the inside out impossible."
"Anything more you can tell me?" Lyse asked. "Do they use Makhai as guards? What is the layout-"
"I know little more, I'm afraid, and I doubt decade-old information would help you much," Remmus looked back to the map. "I can offer you advice, however. When you face the Plithos, run. I don't know what unfolded with Thanatos, but you must count the luckiest stars you faced him and lived. The Plithos are nothing to be trifled with. Each has the power to move mountains and dry the seas themselves. It may be the blessings of the damage we dealt with in the past that they fail to organize themselves. Some even are able to rival my power, and I fear the schemes they may unfold now that their direction has shifted."
"I swore on my father's grave that I will destroy Talin for what they have done," Lyse told him.
"sounds like something you must do alive, young man," Remmus replied. "Keep it that way. Also, before you run off, I have something to give to you."
Remmus held out his hand toward Lyse. Makyra, who was mostly silent, stirred in a surprised gasp at the realization of what he was going to do. Lyse saw a sigil that was sewn into the fabric. Just above it, the air distorted and shifted, like a mirror being curved before his eyes. Then, at the center of this distortion came a small object, hanging from a golden chain. It was a red gem, a little darker than the ruby. But Lyse knew what it was as soon as he tried to sense the aura from it. Nothing. It was a black spot of what should have been something surrounded by an aura like everything else in creation. Lyse could not believe his eyes as the Grandmaster carefully handed the object to him.
"I've been keeping watch over it for all these years," he said. "There are no safer hands than I to handle it. But I am deemed unnecessary to it now, as sad as that may be. It is far worse than useless to me. Using it is a detriment, that I dare not take. But there is another out here who shall wield this pendant and bring stability back to the world of gods."
"If you are the safest hands, I believe you should keep it," Lyse said. "I carry two already. A third would only increase the risk."
"What is life without a little risk?" he asked.
"I think such a life to be very peaceful," Lyse looked back to the pendant. "Are you sure about this, Grandmaster?"
"Certainly," he pushed the pendant into Lyse's hands. The gem did not react. It did nothing. IT was just a cold rock on a string, yet it weighed a ton in his hands. "Take that to the person that truly deserves it. Your mother will tell you where you can hide it where it can be just as safe as it was in my hands. And tell her my farewells. It's . . . nice to see familiar faces sometimes. I wouldn't be against a nice chat. Now, out with you all. If they see me with someone of your kind Lyse. I may receive more lashes than what is privy to me already. I'm counting on you for the moment to slay the beast."
(X)
Remmus watched as they left, his smile fading as he felt their auras walk away. He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed that none of his security managed to sense that a knight was approaching them. Sure, his aura was well hidden, but even looking at the way he walked should have tipped them away from the kind of warrior he was. Perhaps it was a dying skill. Being able to sense how others used aura simply by analyzing the aura they had. Knights have yet to set foot in Torlak in all this time. It was more to placate his people, than any belief that he held. He himself does hold the clans responsible for their civil war, but he understood that it was far more than meets the eyes. A different conflict entirely stirred and boiled beneath it all, and he among many others was called to stop it. But of course, people do not understand this. To them, they just got caught up in a war that they had no business joining in the first place. The only things they have gained were many men lost, a Grandmaster who has ruled them for half a century assassinated. And even an attempt by one of the clans to invade the mainland, which may be possibly the greatest offense.
Things have steadily improved, but the wounds were still fresh, and still unhealed. Even if he and the council agreed to allow knights, and once again offer to teach to those in the clans proven with an ability to the mystic arts, that day will be far down the road. Torlak, at the moment, needed its isolation.
He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a familiar reaction when certain magic is used in his presence. He turned, and there was John, standing almost like a statue at one end of the room.
"And where were you John?" he asked as he closed his tome, and placed it back on the holster at his side. "I would expect you pleasantly willing to talk to them. You have spent your life protecting me, someone who needs no protection."
"That is what you always say," John told him. "till you are stuck at the bottom of an Orcadian Spider's den, and without that little book at your side."
Remmus gave him an unforgiving frown. "Alright, fair play. But may I remind you that it was a mere chance of happening? I didn't notice the hole and-"
"Be that is t may sir," John looked towards the closed doors. "I don't think it wise to let the pendant go in the hands of Lyse. Even if he is the son of Wilbur and Celia Opal. He is right, it is far safer in your hands."
"For someone so entwined with fate, you sue to question me," Remmus said, almost amused.
John just frowned at this. " you are not Fate, sir. And you do not control destiny. How do you know that giving him such a precious relic, while he carried two others, would be optimal over your care?"
"Because I have foreseen that things will become very chaotic here shortly," he said. "And I wish not to have the pendant in my possession he that comes."
John cocked his head to the side, trying to gleam into his master's mind, to no avail. "What makes you say such a thing? Have you gotten intel that Talin will attack you here?"
"That has yet to be foreseen I'm afraid," He sighed. "Perhaps that fox James is rubbing off on me. He was blabbering about such thongs, last we spoke. I just can't shake the feeling that things will get worse."
John nodded, though he did not try to understand a word he had spoken. He was someone very familiar with the operation of Fate. It was through the harnessing of such forces that allow him to do something none other can do. Be aware of the strings that connect people and places to one another. Yet, he always felt like he never had control. That when he wanted to be somewhere, it was through the will of this Fate, this presence so omnipresent in this world, that he may do what he can do. Perhaps this was the same circumstance that Remmus found himself in. Like a leaf caught in a hailstorm. They may reach the ground, but something very chaotic, and very dangerous will guide them there. And you may not hit the ground in one piece.
Only time will tell both of them what fate really had in store for all of them. Remmus was once oblivious to such things. Such a long time ago, he was a mere student, an apprentice to the seat he now takes hold of. And he had once thought that the Grandmaster was differs greatly from the kings and queens of their allies. Yet another naïve thing to of thought. He is no different than James or Lizbeth. Or any other ruler out there, who yearns for prosperity even a fraction of his own. Only time will tell. But all things considered, nothing has changed. The only difference between now, and a few hours ago, is that he now is somewhat comfortable with who guides the new age of Theurgy. A man who uses both practicality and emotion to guide his sword. While he holds the knowledge of magic that may even rival the gods, he also is at the mercy of what move Talin will make. His wish never has changed. He only has one goal. And it is to protect his home. Even if the seeds are already planted.