Anneliese looked up at the Alchemist as he toiled with Felipe’s bones in seemingly incomprehensible manners. When she’d first met this giant standing beside Argrave as he endured the worst pain of his life, she had been utterly afraid of him. He seemed unreadable, unfathomable, unknowable, and most of all unreasonable. Maybe there was still some truth to that. But the events of day passed showed that he wasn’t necessarily as monstrous as he presented himself to be.
Indeed, perhaps there was something mortal beneath that shell of his.
Argrave was absent, if only briefly. It was her and the Alchemist alone. But with his guarantee of safety, she dared ask, “Why do you pay attention to Onychinusa so much?”
The Alchemist did not pull his hands away from Felipe’s body, but a mouth opened on his elbow. “You presume wrongly that I speak overmuch because I have become open to dialogue. Begone.”
Anneliese’s search for emotions among the Alchemist was a fruitless one as ever. But her intuition did not fail her on this matter—she knew that the Alchemist was particularly interested in Onychinusa. “She’s been through much and more. Please do not make things worse on her by confusing her yet further. I do not wish to involve her in our struggle against Erlebnis. She has suffered enough at his hand.”
“I am not interested in puppets cut from strings,” the Alchemist scolded. “You overstep. Return to your bedmate.”
Anneliese was not entirely contented, but there was little good in jeopardizing what was promising to be a fruitful cooperation with the Alchemist. She turned and walked away, still mulling over this matter.
“Hold,” the Alchemist called out, and Anneliese turned around in surprise. He stepped away from Felipe’s corpse, coming to stand over her. “Your A-rank ascension. Describe it to me.”
Anneliese narrowed her eyes, shifting on her feet uncertainly. “It’s… called [Life Cycle],” she said hesitantly. “With it, I can absorb magic from a variety of sources. I take from any spells cast in the area or any enchantments I touch. In addition, my spells themselves are conduits that can take magic. Spells that strike my wards, for instance, replenish me.”
“And living things,” the Alchemist added.
Anneliese nodded. “Yes. And living things.”
“And does this place, this area… has it any relation to your power?” the Alchemist held his hand out and gestured to the mountains.
Anneliese nodded once more. “Yes. Argrave took me to the method, buried beneath these mountains. It was here I learned it from a man long ago dead.”
“Was Llewellen dead?” The Alchemist’s stare was colder than the grave.
Hearing that name, Anneliese blinked in surprise. “Yes, he was. He left his knowledge behind on a dwarven music box. I still have it, if you wish to hear it.”
“He failed, then.” The Alchemist turned, stepping back to Felipe’s corpse. “Pity.”
Anneliese could not help but walk back toward the ancient creature. First, Emperor Balzat of the ancient elven empire had known of Llewellen—now, the Alchemist?
“How did you know him?” she asked.
The Alchemist waved her away. “Ask me no more, for I shall speak no more.”
“You opened this clam,” she protested.
The Alchemist seemed to genuinely hesitate, then turned his head toward her. “Both you and that… elf, will be adrift for a long time without proper tutelage. Llewellen’s methods are as much a curse as they are a boon.” He turned back to Felipe’s skeleton. “Not my concern. I’ve said enough. Let your mate fret over your future.”
Anneliese stared at the Alchemist, mind swirling with questions. After a long while of silence, she turned and left. Each question she asked bred more. She didn’t think this matter was over. In fact, she was nearly certain this was the first of many conversations with the Alchemist.
#####
“Here it is. The Hall of Enchantment,” Elenore gestured grandly as she and Argrave stood near the entrance. “Artur will be waiting in. He’s a little displeased that he was kept waiting for a week. And I don’t entirely disagree…”
Rather than build some monumental building in the streets of the burgeoning city, they had elected to hollow out a portion of stone within the mountain. The quarried stone was then used for construction elsewhere. The magic-infused stone here was incredibly easy to mold, and even easier to work magic into. If the place were enchanted, it improved the strength of their defenses, and so it was a win-win situation. Looking upon the Hall of Enchantment… it nearly doubled as a fortress, so formidable it was.
“It was a lapse of judgment, delaying,” Argrave agreed. “But to tell you the truth, I’d do it all again.”
The great door was easily thirty feet tall, and seemed to be controlled by magic. Argrave looked around and then walked inside with Elenore, shadowed by his two royal guards. One was still reeling from the news of meeting with Veid, while the other seemed perturbed by the notion of involving gods further.
“I hope it was worth it,” Elenore sighed, following.
“Very. I earned what some might call ‘enlightenment.’ I call it long overdue.” Argrave conjured a bloody flame in his left hand, and Elenore flinched away.
“It’s red fire,” she said after she calmed. “Should I be awed?”
“Every single spell I can cast can receive essentially a fifty percent increase in strength,” Argrave said. “So, yes, you should be awed. This is the primary benefit of using blood magic as your ascension method. Anneliese can’t do this. Castro can’t do this. Rowe can’t do this. Only one or two others can, and you can bet I won’t be helping them.”
“Fifty percent. Could be a lot… or a little. I suppose I’ll understand better if I spontaneously develop magical talent that I lacked all my life,” Elenore said drolly.
The entry hall opened up into the gigantic main chamber, and Argrave looked around at all that was waiting for him. What he saw was farbeyond his expectations. At the top, glowing like a second sun—or third, he supposed, given the fact this world had two already—was an enchanted lamp that bathed the whole place in sterile white light. And from there, the entire Hall of Enchantment was revealed.
The Tower of the Gray Owl had an elevator in the center of it, allowing one to ride stone platforms to various level. This Hall of Enchantment, however, was only navigable with these stone platforms. They swirled about the air everywhere, docking and embarking at various portions throughout the whole hall. Entries to offices lined the wall top to bottom, where enchanters, theorists, and spellcasters traded off various artifacts, books, and scrolls. On the higher floors, he heard the clanging of steel as smiths worked to hammer out new artifacts that might be created and tested.
“It’s busiest in the front,” Elenore explained. “But there are enough offices and rooms for thirty thousand people.”
“Thirty thousand?” Argrave repeated.
“We’re outfitting an army,” Elenore said simply. “I doubt we’ll reach max capacity this decade—at present, I’m told not even a tenth are used. But we have it here just in case. They research diligently. When the time comes, they can switch to production. We can have enchanted arrows pumping out day and night—warding rings, strengthening armors, or whatever we need. I’m simply upscaling an old business of mine. It has a lot of overhead, but in time it’ll be a juggernaut sustaining the entire kingdom.”
Elenore walked over to an attendant, and the man diligently called over a stone platform to carry them. Argrave got on, felt his feet get fixed in place, and then they were off.
Elenore stood there with hands politely before her, but Argrave looked at her. “While we’re on the way… that Mozzahr meeting? It’s happening. Not immediately, but it will happen.”
Elenore looked at him. “It is? You’ll involve the Dwarven Senate with the Ebon Cult?”
“I can’t promise that,” he cautioned her. “First, there are some things I need to attend to. Galamon needs to visit with Veid.”
Elenore looked back at the knight-commander. “You mean his goddess?”
“Mmhmm,” Argrave nodded. “More than that, I think it best that we pick out patrons for all of us at this juncture.”
His sister took a deep breath, digesting all that he said. She faced ahead and said dismissively as though it didn’t affect her, “Good luck with that.”
“You can’t wish yourself good luck,” Argrave said, staring at her. “That’s against the rules.”
Elenore spared an uncertain glance, but when she saw he was staring returned her gaze. “You don’t mean…?”
“I said ‘us,’ no? Got no doubt in my mind that there are plenty of gods looking for you just as there are me.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “And the Alchemist made a very good point—now, with every god coming out of their hidey hole and being exposed to the daylight in the first time in over a millennium, it’s a buyer’s market. We need to get in front of this thing and earn ourselves some killer benefits. The ground floor of a divine empire—that could be us. And at the end of it all, vanquishing the whole damned cycle.”
“You can’t be serious,” she laughed in exasperation. “Me? Look at my wrists,” she raised her arm up, displaying thin arms. “I’m not cut out for swinging knives or slinging spells. The only blood I’ve ever spilt with my own hands came from rare steak.”
“There are more deities than those that combat others,” Argrave explained. “Ones of subterfuge, deceit, manipulation…”
“And they sound like great allies,” she said pointedly.
Argrave laughed. “Alright. There are gods of wealth, prosperity, and bountiful harvests, too.”
“Choose someone that could best utilize them in combat, not some paper shuffler like me,” Elenore disagreed strongly. “We need every advantage we can get.”
“I want you safe. I care about you,” Argrave said simply. “And frankly, there’s no one I trust more at my side in the politics of the divine than you.”
“His Majesty is right,” Orion agreed strongly. “You are vital for this entire kingdom. And you are vital to this family.”
Elenore lowered her head a little in embarrassment. “We’re in public. Don’t say things like that here.”
Argrave slowly removed his hand from her shoulder, smiling.
“But what does this have to do with Mozzahr?” Elenore pressed. “I fail to see how getting involved with the divine correlates to the Mozzahr problem.”
“As did I. But the Alchemist has been extraordinarily generous with his stake in this heist. He’s putting up some major resources to go through with this,” Argrave mused. “And frankly, he’s the best insurance I could possibly have heading underground. In terms of mortals, the Alchemist is in the top two for people I’d like as allies. He’ll be coming with me.”
“What, will you attack Mozzahr? Is this how you intend to earn favor from the gods?” Elenore guessed.
“Not quite,” Argrave shook his head. “It’s not finalized, but I have a pretty solid notion. Let’s just say some people are so far behind in the race they actually believe they’re leading.”
Elenore nodded dismissively as she pressed, “Yeah, yeah, that’s cute. What are you going to do?”
“The best I can.” Argrave smiled broadly. “After this little meeting with Artur… I need you to start setting things in motion. Prepare for a meet with Mozzahr. It could take some time, but keep the option in mind.”
“And what will you do be doing in the meantime?” Elenore asked.
“You’re coming too. Job hunting. It’s well time for me to get another job beside ‘King of Vasquer.’ Lot of new positions have opened up.”
