Argrave opened the first tome left behind by the elven monarch, reading through it carefully. It began without introducing its author, diving right to the heart of its contents. It was written in a strict yet elegant script. The writing was uniform enough it seemed typed.
I have witnessed twenty disciplined pikemen put an end to a horde of charging centaurs. Though the centaurs were also twenty, and easily quintuple the size of the pikemen, they died easily. That is not meant to diminish the centaurs—certainly they were stronger and faster than the pikemen, and could have killed those measly elves twenty times over.
However, by holding their ground, planting their pikes firmly upon the earth, these spearmen made the enemy’s strength their own. The centaur’s unstoppable charge ended up killing them as the pikemen used their own ferocity against them. That is the principle of this research; using the enemy’s strength as your own.
One may throw a punch at another’s face... or simply have someone run into a firm fist at their own accord. The end result is the same, but the effort expended is tremendously different. Master fighters use this principle with ease. When an opponent strikes their weapon, they allow the opponent’s momentum to redirect it while adding their own, delivering ripostes and parries that have tremendous power while maintaining their own stamina all the while.
Such expertise does not exist in the world of magic. My contemporaries are rather adroit at squeezing the most power out of spells they can, innovating on that front every day... but from the beginning, I believed there was another way. Let them maximize their power; it will become my weapon. There is no better ability for a sovereign, I believe.
My research stalled for a long while, a block partially broken past with the help of a theorist by the name of Lllewellen. His disappearance put an end to that, and I was adrift for many years. Delving into a magic many deemed useless in this day and age—shamanic magic—has yielded something finally worth putting to paper.
By using spirits, one can be freed of the constraints of all other schools of magic. They are a precious resource. In all my years, I have managed to collect only a few dozen. Most spellcasters are not aware of their existence, even. This first tome took eight years to develop.
However... I am satisfied with the results. At C-rank, this spell is resource-light, and dependent largely upon the spirits in one’s possession to manifest its full power. Given their rarity, these spells are thus fully fit for the sole use of the royal family. Before I make this spell known, we must endeavor to gather all spirits in the royal family. Let these spells become my legacy that ensures my bloodline’s sovereignty over this continent and many beyond it.
“That worked out great for you...” Argrave muttered, flipping to the next page where a familiar name waited.
[Requite]
Emperor Balzat I
Argrave looked at Anneliese as she studied another book, eyes furrowed deeply in concentration. These five tomes had the five imperial spells. Ironically, if Balzat had given these to his family ahead of time, they might have been able to use them in the cycle of judgment of their generation, surviving both the slave rebellion and Gerechtigkeit. Spirits were soon to be far more abundant.
The other four imperial tomes—Subjugate, Edify, Inspirit, and Bulwark—shared the same qualities as the one Argrave held: they were incredibly potent, magically efficient, and consumed spirits. The only one of high rank was [Subjugate], and it was S-rank. Their primary expenditure was spirits, not magic.
No other shamanic spells consumed as many spirits as the imperial spells. [Requite] did as Balzat described: it turned an enemy’s strength against them. Argrave’s plan had been simple; steal Onychinusa’s spirits, teleport to the elven gods, enlist their aid to secure yet more spirits, and fight using this spell. With it, he needn’t attack the emissaries himself. Instead, all of their magic would turn against them.
The spell wasn’t without its issues. It was powerless against other shamanic spells, and it required excellent timing for certain types of magic, foremost among them being lightning spells. It was as good a plan as Argrave could come up with, however. But if all was as Anneliese suggested, he could do this and more.
“Argrave, these spells...” Anneliese looked at him, her expression serious.
“Yeah,” Argrave nodded, knowing that look. Each of the four others were similarly useful, but given both the scarcity of spirits and time, Argrave intended to focus on only [Requite]. Still, all five would undoubtedly become another core of his repertoire. Balzat had intended them to serve his imperial family... but now it would serve a royal family instead, Argrave supposed.
Or maybe it will serve his family, Argrave thought, looking to the side where Onychinusa sat atop a bookshelf, juggling half a dozen different pages and books.
“You should focus on this,” Argrave told her, retrieving the tome for teleportation out of his pack. “Meanwhile... I’ll work on the spell we need; namely, this one. Let’s give Onychinusa ample time to digest.”
He gave Anneliese both tomes, and she scanned over [Requite]. He’d told her about it in the past, but seeing was believing. And from the look of her face, she believed it was quite potent.
“I’ll... do my best,” Anneliese said, handing him back [Requite] while keeping the tome for teleportation.
#####
Onychinusa had been internally grappling with the issue of discovering her lineage for a long time. Whenever she had asked her educators, the emissaries, she had always been refused. The general reason for refusal had been that the knowledge was not important. That had never fully satisfied her, but her life had enough distracting her that it seldom came into light. When it had, as in days past, it was quickly shut down by the emissaries.
It was never said, but Onychinusa knew it was forbidden to her.
Yet her entire life had been spent reading whatever was in front of her—spell books, normal books, everything. And now that she had been handed this forbidden knowledge, old habit lined up with desire, and she read everything that Argrave had handed her.
It was an elaborate lesson plan meant to teach children, but as it was meant for a teacher and not a student it had many references. She walked throughout the library, seeking out these references. She found all the history she could ever want—the first elves, the first emperor, the expansion of the empire, the development of bureaucracy and culture…
It might be considered dry reading. But looking upon it, Onychinusa felt a pounding in her heart unlike anything she’d ever had before. Unbeknownst to her, the fact this knowledge had been kept from her spurred her desire to obtain it... and now, with it so personally connected to her by blood relation, it was profoundly interesting.
Both curiosity and self-doubt led her to focus on one thing in particular—namely, the family tree. She tracked the monarchs down, down, and down, finding more and more information about the successive rulers. Finally she came to Balzat, the man who had this library built, and after him she came to the last emperor, Wylar II.
She scanned through entry after entry in book after book, looking for something to tie herself to the man. After she discovered the last emperor had siblings, her search widened... but as she came to realize that she had likely been born in the tumult of the slave rebellion, she realized it would be unlikely her existence would be noted anywhere here.
Onychinusa walked about the library, slapping her forehead as she tried to think of some way to get rid of the awful feeling of doubt and longing welling in her heart. She paced near a painting on the wall, reaching for hope and finding none. She wanted Argrave to be wrong and right in equal measure, but the answers weren’t here.
And then, after she’d paced in front of it perhaps a thousand times... the painting on the wall drew her attention. It was a large family of people with ancient elven features like hers. As she scanned them, her eyes fell upon one person in particular. It was a woman with tan skin, long ears, white hair, and amber eyes.
But to Onychinusa, it looked rather like a mirror.
She took the painting off the wall and came to sit down, studying it with heavy breathing. When the word of ‘mother’ rooted itself in her head, she felt sad. Sadness always made her angry, and so she called magic to destroy something. But everywhere she looked, all she could think of was that her grandfather had gone so far to make this place, gone through so much effort to teach his grandchildren...
For the first time, Onychinusa could only sit with her sadness, unable to muster the anger that drowned out all else. It hurt. She hated it, and she didn’t want to be here anymore.
But this was all she had.
#####
“...I’ll talk to the dryads,” mumbled Onychinusa.
Argrave studied the elven woman. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she carried a painting with her.
"You had a change of heart, did you?" Argrave began happily, but Anneliese slapped his chest to shutter his optimism.
"I think the Lord will be happy," Anneliese said in consolation.
Onychinusa ignored them both, stalking away with that painting in hand.
Once they were out of ear, Argrave said, "Excellent. Damn excellent. Once she hears the visceral details of her birth..."
"That won't stir her," Anneliese disagreed. "She'll never abandon Erlebnis in the time frame we need, just as you thought. Our goal is to make him view her as a liability and abandon her. To that end, she needs to be perceived as the cause of Erlebnis' woes."
"And to that end... first, we make him and Kirel break up, lay the blame on her," Argrave continued.
"Second... perhaps we can use her to indirectly kill Dimocles," she suggested boldly.
"Remaining is Chiteng and Altan, provided he doesn't have other adherents..." Argrave shook his head. "I thought your way would be less cruel, but we'll be ruining her life..."
"Wildlife regrows fastest after a fire," Anneliese said simply. “I will take responsibility.”
#####
Elenore looked at a strange miniature cabinet that had diamonds as handles. Some days past, Nikoletta had returned bearing a paper with Argrave’s magical signature, and personal instructions to be delivered by ear only. There were many extremely paranoid measures she was instructed to take, but take them she did. The most important thing had been raiding a secluded villa owned by a very minor lord named Dimocles.
The villa was a very strange and wondrous place, host to many collectible items. And, furthermore, it had a wide collection of rather unique and talented people. They had all been noncompliant, and so they were in prison. Apparently it was only one of many such places, but Argrave wished for her to raid this one in particular, and then retrieve this miniature cabinet.
“Here,” Elenore handed it to Nikoletta. “Send it well.”
Nikoletta took it with care. “I’ll get this to him,” she vowed.
“Hmm,” Elenore nodded, stroking her chin as she thought.
Whatever that cabinet was, it had been difficult to acquire, being both well-guarded and well-contained. Elenore supposed Dimocles must find it very important, whoever he was. It seemed he’d made an enemy of the state... a very dire fate, indeed.
