Toren Daen
Denvish held a notepad in front of him as he looked at me with obvious discomfort. The bulbous man was still ever the planner. "Have you re-sealed your strings with rosin, my lord?" he asked.
I looked over my violin, inspecting the aether beast hairs. "I have," I replied.
The planner shifted uncomfortably. "May I ask another thing, Lord Daen?"
I sighed. Ever since my display of power in front of the Fiachran Bloods outside the canal-bound city, Denvish–who I'd since learned was assigned as my personal planner for these concerts–had been remarkably shifty and nervous. I couldn't decide if I preferred this or his constant badgering, and the indecision made me equally uncomfortable.
"You may," I allowed.
"The guest roster has been entirely filled," Denvish said slowly. "You should make sure you know the basics of every family here," he started, then caught himself. "I mean, it would be in your best interest–"
"I understand," I said wearily, cutting him off. "I'm ready for this show."
Denvish sensed the dismissal, leaving with a covert bow. I watched him go with conflicted eyes.
I was currently holed up in the back rooms of the Crimson Pool Theater preparing for my performance. As far as I could tell, the medium-sized theater was even more packed than my last venue on the outskirts of Fiachra. Word of my strange abilities–and strange connections–had gotten around.
All around me, people were hustling with last-minute preparations. Lighting crews, recording teams, and others all darted back and forth, making sure everything was perfect. Whenever they crossed my path, they averted their eyes, saying a quick "My lord," before continuing on with their task.
"Your previous display against those upstart Bloods has cemented you as a true noble in the eyes of these people," Aurora said. Her clockwork avian construct fluttered on my shoulder, a sound like metal-on-metal resounding outward with a whirr. "It is something you must learn to accept, even if it hurts the heart."
And that was the kicker, wasn't it? I know, I thought back with a bit of sadness. The point of that show of power was to speak with the language of highbloods. If I immediately start telling these workers to treat me like an equal, it will damage that blossoming image. I'm just used to being treated like a person; not like an unsheathed knife.
Ironically, this was the first time I'd experienced what it was like to be treated like a lord. I hoped I could eventually wear away these people's reservations, but it would take time and effort to do so while also maintaining the respect of the noble Bloods which I hoped to influence.
"You've learned this game of politics quickly," Aurora said. The puppet tilted its head. "The rewards you wish to reap are all functions of patience. The seeds you have planted must take root and grow before you start trimming their leaves."
I looked up as I sensed someone approaching. I smiled lightly as the aging seamstress employed by Bloodstone Elixirs navigated their way through the crowd with a few young women in tow. I stood as she reached me, stowing my violin back into my dimension ring.
"Lady Veza," I said, bowing slightly. The woman was impeccable with her fashion sense and my clothing matched. I was wearing the same dark gray outfit with a maroon vest as the last concert. "Pleasure to see you again. Are you here to make sure I haven't drenched my clothing again?"
The seamstress huffed slightly. Her gray hair was tied back into a perfect bun, which only seemed to make her more severe. "Lord Daen," she said respectfully. "With all due respect, the clothing I made for you was utterly ruined by that stunt you pulled. For the sake of branding, it cannot happen again. Do you understand?"
It seemed Lady Veza was going for a recognizable look for each performance as a token of branding. I felt more comfortable around her than any of the other Bloodstone staff, likely because she hadn't immediately defaulted to bowing and scraping. "I do," I acknowledged. "Though I wonder at the change in tie."
"Your old tie had Fiachran symbols etched into the filigree," the woman said as she circled me, doing a once-over on my dress. "Here in Vechor, we don't want to remind them too much that you're native to Sehz-Clar. Some are still bitter about the war half a century ago."
I snorted. "Fair enough," I said, thinking about Renea's story of the Redfeud War. "Do I look dashing enough?" I added playfully.
Lady Veza completed her circuit. "I don't know," she said with a slight smile. "Is there someone special you're hoping to impress? I can't define 'enough' without a standard to compare."
My mind flashed traitorously to Renea Shorn once again. The way she captured a room simply by entering it; drawing the eye like a dark star. Her subtle smiles and knowing eyes that peered too deep. I could almost smell a phantom of her floral perfume.
And I could feel Aurora rolling her eyes.
I coughed into my fist. "I don't think they're here tonight," I said with a bit of disappointment. As I'd missed Renea Shorn watching my performance last time, I'd made a concerted effort to spot her in the gathering crowd tonight and on the guest list. Yet she wasn't here. "But I can only hope I would be charming enough otherwise."
Lady Veza shook her head. "Never settle for 'enough,' Lord Daen," she said, patting me on the shoulder as a grandmother would. "If you wish to entrance a lady, you must put in your best. Show her you care. That she is the center of your world. Give her gifts! Attention! You'll be one of Alacrya's most eligible bachelors before long with these concerts. For her to have your eye would be a privilege!"
I smiled lightly at the praise, but I couldn't let it get to my head. "I don't think gifts are the right avenue," I said mildly. "She's different from most."
Renea Shorn was far more wealthy than I, and also intelligent enough to see such gift-giving for the ruse it was. Empty gifts would get me nothing. And it also was difficult to shower a woman with attention if she was a blank to my senses. "Though your advice is appreciated."
"I'm sure you know your beau better than I, Lord Daen," Lady Veza said with a humble bow. "And speaking of Alacrya's most eligible bachelors..."
I turned to the side as Sevren Denoir strode in, his brilliant white hair tamed into a respectable side part for once. "Lord Daen," he said with a nod.
"Lord Denoir," I replied, though there was a note of amusement in my tone. "Any news for me?"
In the couple of weeks since I'd last been in the Relictombs with the Denoir heir, we'd met on and off to try and test the limits of his spellform and my aether abilities. Progress was slow.
Sevren looked at the seamstresses near me. "A moment of privacy," he said surely.
Lady Veza bowed deeply; showing far more respect to the highblood heir. "Of course, Lord Denoir," she said, giving me a subtle wink that said, 'I wish you luck,' before shuffling off.
When there was nobody in earshot, Sevren pitched his voice lower. "I did a bit of digging," he started. "There's a high presence of vicars in this city. Higher than the Dominion average, even accounting for its central location. There are shipments of supplies sent up the Redwater on a regular basis, theoretically to this base at the headwaters that you're looking for."
"So we track the shipments," I replied. "Follow them to the source."
It sounded too easy. Too simple. Yet Mardeth had never been one for subtlety. He'd openly peddled blithe in Scythe Seris' Dominion and tortured civilians without repercussions. And even before that, he'd insulted Scythe Melzri to her face at last year's Victoriad. Was I surprised that he wasn't making an effort to hide his operations?
"We still need to be careful," I said to Sevren. "I have no doubt that Mardeth knows I'm in Aensgar. It wasn't exactly a secret."
Sevren looked at the Bloodstone Elixirs staff, who were giving us an even wider berth now that the heir to the Denoir legacy had arrived. "I spotted a vicar in the seats outside," he said. "They're absolutely here to keep an eye on you."
"Or stir up trouble," I said, thinking of the Bloods that had confronted me after my last show. "Either way, it isn't a good sign, even if it was unavoidable."
Sevren looked at me. "Are you ready for this?"
"The concert, the infiltration of Mardeth's base, or something else?" I asked, trying to lighten the serious mood.
"This concert," he said after a moment of silence. "I know I'm not the most believing in your cause here of being able to make highbloods understand, but–"
I waved a hand in light dismissal. "I get it, Sevren," I said. "It is an idealistic goal I have. But I have to believe that I'm doing the right thing." I paused. "Do you remember what J'ntarion said? About peace?"
Sevren exhaled, something akin to pain flashing over his eyes. I took that as a yes.
"This is my path," I said, standing up and patting the Denoir heir on the shoulder. "It isn't your job to trust me without evidence. It's my job to prove its viability to you and everyone else."
I strode toward the stage entrance as Denvish called me. I had a show to put on.
—
I drew out a long note on my violin, holding it in a suffering grip as the ambient mana churned with my intent. Images of days long past; of running through the streets of Fiachra with Norgan and studying with Arlan faded from the air. I exhaled as the breath that had captivated me for so long, memories leaving my system like mist on the wind.
I felt a bead of sweat slowly trail down my face. It narrowly missed my eyes, tickling my skin as it traced a slow path along my jaw.
In my last showing, I'd played to the rhythm of thunder and lightning overhead. The pitter-patter of raindrops had guided my bow as surely as any arrow, projecting the terror, dread, and relief I'd experienced in the Relictombs.
Today, I'd done something different. Today, I'd thought of Norgan and summers I would never have again. Of the simple times; before the Relictombs. Before the Joans. And before the world upended itself.
That drop of sweat finally hit the ground.
I stared out at the silent crowd, taking in their enraptured expressions. I noticed a few with tears running down their faces. Another struggled to restrain their arm from trembling.
How many of these people had lost a brother? A sibling? A friend?
Vechor was one of the most military-oriented Dominions and had sent the most troops to the war in Dicathen, so I crafted my message to match. The seeds I planted here were small, of course. I pushed these people to think of their loved ones, who may be dead on foreign soil already. I pulled their emotions in tune with my own, urging them to think of their past joys.
It was a small step. But it was a step nonetheless.
I bowed lowly as applause slowly started, building into a crescendo that threatened to rattle the foundations of the theater. As my blood cooled, I spied something else out of the corner of my eye.
A vicar, who had been in the crowd all along, pushed his way out toward the back, his dark robes making him stand out amidst the crowd of color. Not showing any sign that I'd noticed his retreat, I raised my arms to the sky, then retreated toward the back of the stage.
Sevren was in step with me before I'd even reached the preparation room. "The vicar is likely going to make for the closest temple," he said. "If you want to catch him, we can't waste any time."
"Unfortunately for him," I said lowly, "There isn't a soul in Alacrya who can outpace us together."
Sevren smirked dangerously.
Denvish was rushing toward me, that same constipated look on his face. "My lord," he started. "They'll have questions! You can't leave now," he stuttered. "I mean... It would be inadvisable to leave so quickly!"
I brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair out of my face. It had somehow escaped my ponytail. "I have more urgent things to attend to," I said, walking past the man. Then I paused, turning to the flustered bubble of a man. "And next time, tell me exactly what you think. Stop sugarcoating it."
I turned to Sevren, then nodded. We quickly weaved our way through the men and women in the preparation rooms, finally reaching a back exit.
I pushed open the door, immediately sighing as the cool spring breeze brushed against my face.
Aensgar was unlike any other city I'd visited. Every bit of architecture I saw was composed of steel and earth. Rounded towers, squat keeps, and sturdy walls dominated the evening skyline. Vechor's gem of a capital was a living fortress, situated atop a tall slope along the Redwater. Every building I looked at emitted a presence that told me exactly what this place was.
As Sevren and I zipped through the winding streets on lashes of telekinesis and tugs of wire, I quietly marveled at how different the cultures between Dominions were. I whipped around a sharp crenelation, the edge as sharp as a spear. The entire sprawling cityscape goaded any potential attackers to try.
No wonder the Redwater Initiative failed. This place was designed with repelling a siege in mind.
And soon enough, I spotted our quarry. The vicar was dashing through the streets, his black-and-red robes trailing behind him. People moved out of the way as fast as they could, bowing deeply as the vicar passed. He didn't pay them any mind.
I perched atop a dark stone outcropping, watching the man zip toward a nearby temple.
"Your guess was correct," I whispered to Sevren, who knelt next to me. His teal cloak and bright hair made him stand out in the darkness. "He's heading straight to the temple."
The Denoir heir narrowed his eyes, his fingers clenching tightly around Promise. "Still, something doesn't feel right about this," he said quietly. "It's too simple. Too straightforward."
I exhaled. Truth was, I felt the same. The vicar wasn't doing anything to conceal himself. Actually, it seemed as if he was trying to make himself even more obvious. How much of that was the Doctrination's usual pomp and posturing? "If it's a trap," I said lowly, "We'll face it when we get there."
The vicar was almost at the temple. He darted into a dim alleyway, cutting straight toward the temple. It was now or never.
My legs tensed as I prepared to jump. The vicar was directly below us now; perfect for an ambush. I leaned forward, ready to freefall.
Except something happened that I did not expect. The deep shadows in the alleyway seemed to shift strangely, and the vicar was jerked to the side and out of my sight. His mana signature cut off abruptly.
I stood up in shock, trying to comprehend what had happened. The vicar was gone, but it didn't seem intentional. I exchanged a glance with Sevren, then finally stepped off the roof. My clothes fluttered in the wind for a few seconds as I plummeted, then cushioned my fall with a push of telekinesis. Sevren tapped down a split-second later.
The shadows writhed with dark power, mana pulsing familiarly. And I saw the vicar.
He was entangled in a mishmash of solid black wind, everywhere the tendrils touched draining him away. He couldn't even scream as he died, a dark corded tentacle piercing his lungs. The vicar gurgled as his body withered. Time seemed to accelerate as his body broke down in real-time, the tentacles constricting as their prey succumbed.
I grit my teeth, feeling adrenaline course through my veins anew as this unexpected variable revealed itself.
"Retainer Mawar," I said, my hand clenched tightly around the hilt of Oath.
The mage in question stepped from the shadows. Her short-cut white hair was almost the color Sevren's, except it took on a more silver sheen. Mawar's dark red eyes watched me warily as she extricated herself from the cover of the wall.
The vicar's body crunched to the stone ground, then flaked away as wind chipped at its broken form. The tendrils of void wind dispersed into nothingness.
"Toren Daen," Mawar said. Her voice sounded confident, but her intent carried an undercurrent of something else. "I've been waiting for you."
I felt Aurora become more alert and more focused as I ran over possibilities in my head. Vritra-blooded humans scratched at the deepest of her ideals. Behind me, Sevren hissed in surprise. I could taste his fear.
He didn't know, did he? I hadn't told him about this encounter. "Retainer Mawar," he said with a strained voice, clearly trying to sound respectful. "We were just–"
I took a single step forward, the clack of my shoes on cobbles cutting Sevren off. Mawar flinched backward. "I left you alive last time you got in my way," I said with a hint of venom. "Are you planning to try and fight me again?"
Mawar opened her mouth, closed it, then visibly steeled herself. "You're going after Mardeth, aren't you?" she said, taking another step forward. The shadows at her feet shifted like a tide. "I'm going to join you. You can't do this alone. You were about to walk into a trap anyway! You need me!"
I inspected the woman in front of me. No, she was more girl than woman. As I stared her down in this alleyway, I could almost sense her inexperience. I noted her claim I was waltzing into a trap, but that wasn't the priority. "No," I bit out. "I'm doing this myself. And I remember telling you exactly where you stood in comparison to the Vicar of Plague."
That was Mawar's goal, after all. She wanted to kill Mardeth.
The retainer wasn't here to fight me. We both knew the outcome of such a confrontation, and I'd grown stronger since. "Look," she started, trying a different tactic. "Since our fight," she said, visibly flinching, "I researched who could've tried to attack the temple in Nirmala outside the Doctrination. And that's where I dug up info on Mardeth's infiltration of Fiachra. It led me straight to you; the only reasonable explanation. And I was right! I can help you with this!"
I hadn't given the Retainer my name after our clash, but what she said added up. Still, I couldn't afford to have someone I barely knew accompany me to infiltrate Mardeth's base. Sevren and I coordinated on a seamless, instinctual level. Mawar? Mawar would be a liability.
I turned around, ignoring Sevren's clenched expression. "No," I said, turning around. "I need certainty on this mission."
I started walking away, internally mapping out the route toward the Redwater's start. It would be a week or so of traveling regardless. Every Dominion was massive; each easily larger than Texas on Earth. The Redwater was about half the length of the Mississippi.
I was stopped by a hand gripping my arm. Small fingers clasped my wrist, holding it tightly.
I turned around, glaring at Mawar. Her position as a Retainer represented one of the things I hated most about this continent. The epitome of the poison urn that Agrona had created, where the most venomous creature claimed its spot at the top. The ambient mana churned with my concealed irritation.
The girl flinched. I could taste her fear in the air. I felt it in my bones and in my core. Yet even as she wilted under my stare, she only clasped my wrist tighter.
"Please," she said, almost begging. "I need... I need to prove myself worthy."
I exhaled. Mawar was terrified of me. But something else scared her even more.
"What do you want to be worthy of?" I asked, my eyes piercing her own.
She looked away in shame, but didn't release my wrist.
Aurora understood before I did. "Not what," she said to me as the Unseen World washed my vision. The phoenix circled the nervous Retainer like a hawk, gliding across the earth as she inspected the girl. "Who."
I rephrased my statement. "Who do you need to be worthy of?" I asked instead, my voice softer but still commanding.
The silver-haired retainer swallowed, not meeting my eyes. Her mana wilted.
"You should take her with you, Toren," Aurora said, resting a hand on my shoulder.
Why? I thought back. I thought you hated Vritra half-breeds. 'Lessurans,' as you called them.
The phoenix stared into Mawar's defeated eyes. I do, Contractor, she replied. But this is no lessuran. This is a scared girl who wants to please her mother.
I looked at Sevren. He had seen many, many strange things while accompanying me on our 'adventures,' but this seemed to strike something on a deeper level. He looked between the unsure Retainer and me quickly, trying to assemble the pieces in his head.
"What do you think?" I asked the highblood heir. It wasn't just me on this mission. Sevren had a stake in this as well.
Mawar looked up hopefully, her eyes darting to Sevren. He seemed utterly unprepared for the question. "I don't know what to think," he said slowly, "Considering we don't know what Retainer Mawar could bring to the table," he said diplomatically. His eyes, however, demanded answers from me.
The Vritra-blooded mage puffed herself up more. "I can help," she said quickly. "I've built a network along the Redwater for several months that can help you reach Mardeth's base quicker. My intel is what led you here in the first place, after all. And I am powerful. I can help in a fight."
Sevren looked at me questioningly. An unspoken conversation flashed between us. He didn't seem innately opposed to the idea, but we both knew there needed to be limits.
"If you need further enticement," Aurora said, "Taking her along will put this Retainer in your debt. And considering you are dipping your toes into the waters of Alacryan high society, such a thing could be invaluable."
I sighed, carefully extricating my wrist from Mawar's grip. My bond was right. Having a retainer owe me a favor was a powerful card to keep in reserve. "If you're going to follow us," I said. "You're going to do what I say. This is a stealth mission; not a combat one. We aren't trying to fight anyone."
The retainer looked at me with wide eyes. What had she been expecting me to say? To deny her?
I likely would have if not for Aurora's quiet desire. She had a soft spot for children that influenced me in turn. And though I had a hard time thinking of Mawar as a child, apparently it was quite easy for Lady Dawn to do so.
I didn't give her a chance to respond. I still felt irritated by the entire confrontation; especially due to all the extra variables that just got dumped into my lap. I swiveled on my heel, then looked up at the rooftops I'd just dropped from. I internally prayed this wouldn't explode in my face.