Kavnerrin shook his head in wonder. “It’s not always rings, but the master leash you speak of is the Imperial Scepter, symbol of my grandfather’s authority. It’s a failsafe so no one of lesser blood may turn their slave stock against the imperial family.”
The prince’s eyes drooped for a moment and he scratched his chin, deep in thought. “To lay hands on the scepter would be…unthinkable, a short trip to a golden collar for myself and my conspirators. Now, if a dozen or so heirs disappear or suffer accidents, that may change, but…for now, I’m too far down the list of succession to even consider a bid for the scepter.”
Noah kept working as the man talked, unconcerned with the schemings of royalty. The data he’d been gathering on how souls interacted with bodies and the skills of a person had been utterly fascinating, and he motioned for the next subject, eager for more. Two hulking wolfmen stood before a group of chained slaves, golden bands glimmering around their necks. With a low growl of submissive obedience, one of them reached down and picked up a shaking woman by the throat. Her whimpers turned into choked sobs in the beastman’s grip as his counterpart undid the chains around her wrists and ankles before the two beastkin guards forced her to the table and strapped her down. She began screaming, but the enchantments rendered her silent as she feebly struggled against the straps.
“What benefit would higher-levelled classers bring to your studies, Worldwalker?”
At this Noah brightened, eager to acquire better test material. “Oh, a lot. I’m already learning how skills interact with souls, and more data on different class types would be wonderful. A greater variety of skills, classes…every person seems to be different, although life-long conditioned slaves are limited in their skills.”
The Worldwalker pulled his spectacles off and rubbed them clean with his shirt, raking the fingers of his other hand through unkempt hair. “Some-higher levelled classers would provide wonderful data on how rare and powerful skills interact with souls. If I can get enough data, I should be able to work out how to modify skills without needing to level—or even make entirely new skills!” Noah could scarce contain his excitement, grinning like a schoolboy.
At that, Kavnerrin couldn’t help but grin himself. “You may be in luck, then. The empire has worked for years to infiltrate the Wildlands Expedition, and this year, we’ve finally succeeded. Away from support and help, and unable to send messages back to the city, it may very well be that I can acquire some very unique high-levelled classers for your studies.” Kavnerrin rubbed his hands together, a habit Noah had noticed on the day they’d met. “My uncle’s campaign in the northlands hasn’t been as successful as he’d hoped…this General character has been gathering the locals to him and leading them back and forth across the Golden Meadows, keeping his men at bay.” He snorted in disgust. “What few classers he has managed to get will be going straight to the imperial stables to breed new lines. The rest are children, and the classless.” He shook his head. “But , if my efforts with the Expedition bear fruit…there are many unique classers travelling with that group. I’ve tasked them with capturing that Worldwalker who’s friends with the dwarves, but…they’re instructed to use their own initiative, too.”
“I’ll continue to collect data as well as I can in the meanwhile,” replied Noah.
“Is my little brother planning sedition, or a coup?” The new voice chimed in from the entrance to the laboratory, as its bearer, a woman, strode through the doors. She was preceded by a pair of wolven soldiers, each bearing a drawn sword. Her golden hair fell in thin braids, twisted in loops, and held by a thin net adorned with tiny gemstones woven into the fabric. A hawkish nose and sharp eyes shone with a vicious cunning above a thin figure clad in green tunic and trousers over boots of soft green leather.
“You managed to squeeze some spies into the Expedition and didn’t tell Father?” Her eyes glittered with avarice. “Or, more importantly, Grandfather? I thought you had no ambition, Kavni. And what is this fascinating contraption our friend the Worldwalker has built?”
Noah froze, unable to adjust to rapidly changing environments as quickly as his patron Kavnerrin. The imperial prince simply sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“You shouldn’t have come here, dearest Louisa,” he said delicately.
“Oh, come now, Kavni; you don’t think I’ll be telling Father on you, do you? I hate him as much as you. It took me an entire decade, and three children , before I managed to poison that geezer he sold me off to.” She shuddered in revulsion. “I had my own dreams other than an arranged marriage, you know.”
Kavnerrin simply stood, rubbing his chin with his other hand on his elbow. “That tells me nothing of why, or even how , you are here where you should not be. You never miss one of the Imperial galas, or an opportunity to show off your daughters before the fawning nobility. Father’s schemes aside, it didn’t stop you from planning the same sort of fates for your own children.”
Louisa twirled, circling the table and its bound occupant, and eyeing the kneeling slaves awaiting their turn as experiments. She wandered over to the corner to inspect the ones standing without restraints.
“Amazing,” she breathed. “They stand like the shackled, but they don’t wear a collar.” She spun to face Noah. “What have you accomplished here?”
Noah opened his mouth, always eager to explain the intricacies of his work to an interested audience. However, Kavnerrin silenced him with a quick gesture, dipping his hand into his coat. He stepped back just as the prince whipped a glass vial to the ground near his sister and her guards. Kavnerrin held up his hand and twisted one of the rings thereon, and a vivid green barrier shimmered into existence around them. From the vial, choking black smoke issued forth, filling the laboratory and clinging to the writhing forms outside their barrier. Where the smoke touched it, it fizzed and spat sparks, the sound putting Noah in mind of a breakfast cereal from Earth.
“My own alchemical cocktail,” the princeling explained to Noah, “to neutralize threats. The red mold and parafelis extract cost me a fortune, and a grain of negatite cost three times the rest together, but it’s worth every copper.”
The woman’s guards had dropped to the ground instantly, along with the guards Kavnerrin had stationed in the laboratory himself, the slaves, and the soulless husks. The only ones left standing after a few heartbeats were Noah and the two imperials, and soon only the one imperial; Louisa’s panicked expression intensified as her own shield collapsed. The black smoke rushed in and Louisa fell to her knees, partially overcome. Even without her shield, she could at least somewhat resist its effect; paralyzed but still awake, she slumped to the ground, eyes wild.
“You really shouldn’t have come here, Louisa,” the princeling said regretfully. “I’ve always said I don’t want grandfather’s throne, and I meant it.”
As the black mists faded away, Kavnerrin waited a dozen more heartbeats before dropping his shield. He wasted no time, executing his sister’s guards with brutal efficiency before they could recover. Circling back around the room, he stood over the woman’s crumpled form. Turning back, he looked at Noah.
“I guess you get a high-levelled classer sooner than you thought,” he said with a smile. “I’ll have to figure out a convincing reason for her disappearance, but our work must not be discovered.”
Pulling a small ebony rod out of his coat, he pointed it at her neck. A glowing green whip of energy snaked out, and with its help, he lifted his sister bodily by the neck. She dangled limply in his magical grasp, fingers and feet twitching in outrage. The woman made strangled, whimpering noises, trying to form words as the effects began to wear off.
“I—” she choked the word out as her feet slid across the stone floor. Noah had already begun unstrapping the slave woman from the table, and Kavnerrin’s guards—now recovered—reattached her chains after putting her back in line.
“—thought you didn’t want the throne!” gasped Louisa. Kavnerrin stretched her out over the table, cuttin
g her tunic and breeches away, depriving her of any enchantments that may have been woven into her clothes. The sparkling hairnet came last, and Noah set it aside for study. It reeked of magic, and he wouldn’t forget to analyze it later. Clad in nothing but her fine silken undergarments, the imperial princess finally recovered enough to begin to move—far too late. “What are you doing ?” she asked, horrified.
It was half question, half desperate plea for mercy. She began hyperventilating, tugging against the straps, but in addition to paralyzing her, the smoke had cut her off from her skills.
“I don’t want the throne, sister. I want to be a god. And I can’t let you tell anyone what I’m doing before I’m ready, so…thank you for your contribution.”
Before Noah could activate the device, Kavnerrin did so. Reaching out, he charged up the crystal sphere, and a few heartbeats later—it was over. With a surprised look on his face, he turned to Noah. The shock left him speechless for several heartbeats, jaw hanging open. His expression was ashen, his voice numb.
“You didn’t tell me using the machine would grant a title!”
“I didn’t know it was relevant,” the [Mortis Mathematician] replied. “I didn’t feel anything different upon gaining it the first time I used the machine.”
“You fool!” he hissed. “It’s branded us both with the title of [Blasphemer]! The [Oracle] can see us despite the Elemental Desert’s dead zone now!”
The Dreamer considered for a few moments. “But can she actually cross the desert before spring? The construct will be complete before winter solstice,” he said confidently.
“Rule nothing out with the [Oracle]. We’ll have to accelerate plans accordingly. And I must hurry to fabricate a convincing scenario for my sister’s disappearance.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair.
In response, The Dreamer merely shrugged. Foresight aside, it didn’t matter to him. An [Oracle] can’t be more powerful than a god, surely, he thought to himself. Kavnerrin left after directing the guards to clean up, and Noah turned to inspect the data gathered by the machine. Soon he’d forgotten all about the title and the [Oracle], lost in the wealth of information provided by extracting the soul of a level forty-six [Sultry Enchantress]. His hypothesis had been proven correct, after all, and there was a lot of science still to do.
Chapter 31: A Slight Miscalculation
Morgan Mackenzie was running again. This in itself was not a new occurrence. In fact, she’d spent most of her waking hours since arriving on Anfealt running; she was either running toward something she wanted to eat, or away from something that wanted to eat her . She’d spent her share of time walking, but rare had been the day she had not, at some point, needed to run for one reason or another.
Today was a day the [Skyclad Sorceress] had something to run to. Or perhaps to run for . The thoughts and emotions swirling around her mind yielded to no words she had to describe it. The confused mass of footfalls she’d sensed from her spire might not have been panicked at all, but the rhythmic thumping that had seemed so much like machine-gun fire meant they were certainly fighting something. What that something was couldn’t have been the massive presence she felt approaching, as it was still days away, by her best estimation. The cacophony of sensations, vibrations, and echoes she’d felt were difficult to decipher.
Morgan knew one thing for certain, though: there were people. There were lots of people, using what could only be modern Earth weapons. She realized she could technically be wrong about that, as she had no idea what sort of civilizations lived beyond the mountains—but her gut feelings pointed toward someone else from Earth, and that thought spurred her feet to move faster. The massive presence moving along the ley lines was travelling slowly, but steadily, and she knew it would take her at least two days to reach where she’d sensed the people. While her instincts didn’t warn her of any direct danger associated with whatever it was, she knew an avalanche or a rockslide didn’t have to intend to hurt you in order to be dangerous. So Morgan had packed as much food as she could carry in her [Runic Belt], along with several crystals, and Lulu had latched onto her shoulder, refusing to be left behind when something had its mistress so excited.
And she ran to meet new people.
* * *
Terisa Aras picked her way across the lowlands outside the walls of Castra Pristis. The smell of slaughter and death hung, miasma-like, in the early morning light, and the croaks and caws of oversized carrion birds reminded her of battlefields from her past. Normally the Expedition sent out hunting parties from the fort to gather resources, such as furs, horns, and other valuable parts of the various denizens of the wilds, but a migration year presented new challenges—as well as new opportunities. Creatures tended to swarm up to the walls as they passed, meaning hunting parties didn’t have to travel nearly as far.
I suppose this year’s take will be heavy on furs and crystals…but lacking in witchwood and herbs, she thought to herself. It was too much of a risk to send out gathering parties with so many beasts on the move; there was no telling which areas were even relatively safe this season. The [Dozer Moles] had only been the beginning, and Dana’s rapid-firing gun emplacements had more than proven their worth next to experienced Dwarven Cannoneers. Thankfully the Mana-based weaponry didn’t damage the hides anywhere near as much as her crawler’s guns would have, and there were now racks of hundreds of moleskins stretched out and drying within the walls of the fort. It had taken two full days to salvage that many before the rest simply spoiled, leaving the clearing south of Castra Pristis an abattoir, which the Huntress now carefully traversed.
Giant moles weren’t the only corpses rotting in the field. The first day’s dead had drawn scavengers, and those had to be dealt with as well; they made no distinction between the corpses of the fallen moles and the adventurers seeking to strip them. Many of the creatures of the wilds had trade value in various magical and mundane markets, but not all of them, and Terisa detested the wasteful slaughter as much as she recognized its necessity. If the fort were to be overrun, the entire Expedition could be a wash for the year, notwithstanding the potential loss of life if some of the less stable things stored in the wagons were trampled.
One benefit to a migration year was that certain other ventures didn’t have to travel as far into the wilds to accomplish their goals. It was one of these groups that Terisa was now heading toward, having seen her husband approaching through the trees with a small group of younger beastkin tribesmen. She could see much further than the part-beast man, but his sense of smell had no equal, and the Huntress saw him grinning in the distance when the wind shifted, bringing him her scent and alerting him to her approach. One of Dana’s flying drones zipped by, low over the treetops and heading for the fort. Terisa was used to their passing by now, and simply ignored it.
More of the poofy creatures Dana had called scrubbies had appeared the morning after the slaughter of the [Dozer Moles], and they seemed to be driven to clean up the mess. Terisa stepped carefully around several wurbling puffballs that were gathered around a shiny, gleaming skeleton, and approached the weary group of beastmen.
“Good hunt,” Foz grumbled amicably. “Ka’Na Oko will be well pleased; the younglings fought a mighty Na’Kohe.”
Several Lupara wolfmen panted happily, exhausted from the run, and a lumbering Ursara full-blood bearkin brought up the rear. One of the wolves spoke up then, unable to contain his excitement. “Graz gained a berserking skill during the fight, Lady Huntress! Foz had to wrestle him down so he wouldn’t kill the bear!”
Graz, the younger Ursaran of the group, grinned sheepishly but made no response. Foz chuckled. “Good skill. Be strong, when he learns to control it!”
“Honor to the Children of Ka’Na Oko,” Terisa complimented the youth with a nod. The young Ursara was obviously wounded, deeply enough that he would bear scars, but the Huntress knew better than to belittle his accomplishments by suggesting he accept healing after what was, essentially, his tribe’s test of manhood
. All of the Children of the First Beast were prickly about honor, and the Ursara more so than the rest. She ignored his wounds, and the others responded with nods and flicks of ears, acknowledging the respect given.
The group resumed its trek back toward the fort, and Terisa joined them, falling in step alongside her husband. “Did you find any of the plants Biggles wanted?” she asked.
“Lots of witchwood,” he agreed with a low rumble. “Off to the south. Not far; might be worth the trip. Nothing else.
“I’m sure we can manage it,” she replied, nodding. “You didn’t find any whisperveil mushrooms, though? Shame; Biggles could have made an anti-magic compound for my arrows,” she continued, running a finger along her bow.
“Didn’t see any,” Foz confirmed. “Found bindleberries, though.”
Her expression lit up with avarice, and she leaned in. “Oh? You did, did you? Where are they?”
“Already ate ‘em,” came the stoic response. “They were very-uph!”
Terisa had only held herself back a little bit as she drove her fist into her husband’s solar plexus with a cry; Ursara were tougher than most, even for a high-leveled Classer like Terisa. “Plague take you, Foz, you know those are my favorite!”
“Mine, too,” Foz replied, grinning and rubbing his chest. “Saved you some, though.” His hand dropped to the enchanted belt pouches he wore, and emerged with a cluster of perfectly ripened berries, which Terisa took almost as soon as they were proffered.
“Should have led with that, then,” she complained, the playful acidity in her reply cut with her obvious delight as she popped the berries into her mouth.
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