Artorian's Archives Omnibus

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  Dawn was pleased, and motioned at Jiivra. “Even though I have requested it, your student is afraid because she cannot afford to chance the possibility of an offense. Perceived or not. A Mage would do this to a High Mageous, because that is again such a vast gap in power that the roles take on another category. Think on this: a king bows to a Mage, a B-ranker. Then the person the king bows to shows deference to someone else. The social impact of this is heavy. Further factors are compounded when High Mageous types are involved, as their relative scale of power is even wilder when they try to compare to one another.”

  She grimaced and waved away her next words, “I have avoided the topics of items and equipment so far, for at this rank most cease to hold relevance unless the object is something truly potent. Such as a dungeon Core, or crafts of true significant power. The Soul-item one manifests in their soul space has an incredible impact on ability output. The theme one ties themselves to as an A-ranker directly impacts their Actualization process—their S-ranking.”

  Dawn made a motion for Artorian to really break up his student’s poses, as it was visibly making her uncomfortable. Artorian took a few steps and lay a hand on Jiivra’s fist. He hadn’t realized she was sweating so heavily. Her breathing was steadied only by sheer force of will. Artorian had a thought as to why that might be. Vicars must be A- or S-ranks, and she had her cultivation ripped out of her once already. That kind of mental scarring doesn’t just get glossed over.

  “My dear. She’s serious. Please relax.” He met her gaze and gave her a warm grandfatherly smile. “You asked how I survived? I would like to introduce you to my best friend, Dawn. She just so happens to be an S-ranker.”

  Jiivra’s stared at him and whisper-screamed, “What is wrong with you? How do you know people like this? What even, old man!”

  She was trembling as Artorian pulled her a single step in the direction of the Saint. She stumbled, and Dawn was eager to help; sadly, her sudden appearance in front of Jiivra hurt more than it helped. Jiivra went from pale to chalk white, eyes flicking between the offered handshake from the Saint, and the… utter otherworldliness she exuded. Her hair and eyes were made of empty space, or something! Her eyes had irises made of fire suspended in black emptiness! This was entire existences too much for her.

  A weak *eek* left the combat instructor as Dawn took her by the wrist and gently shook it with a smile. Frozen in place with her muscles taut, Jiivra tried to say ‘hello’ but all that came out of her was a squeal-noise with a *huuu* attached.

  Dawn let Jiivra go and shoved a thumb across her shoulder to motion at what she brought. “Fresh meals are in the rock, just take the top off with… nevermind.”

  She snapped her fingers and the lid of the ‘pot’ popped off, revealing steaming piles of meat-buns. All that bear had to go somewhere, and steamed buns were easy to make in large amounts. Artorian spoke to fill the silence: “What makes Saint so different from a High Mageous? For a mortal like myself, I’m not sure the difference is graspable. Just another tier of who bows to whom.”

  Artorian received a nod from Dawn in return that said ‘essentially’, and she pushed up from her toes to hover in mid-air. Blanket awoke, and did itself a startle! There was a thinger next to it, a floating thinger! Its tiny eyes blinked at Dawn, and it didn’t know what to think for a moment, until it got a very gentle scritch under the chin from the floating warmth that smelled of fresh buns. “Do you want some treats too, big boy?”

  Blanket’s loyalty was bought with honeycomb within the minute, and Dawn beamed at him as he lapped the sugar up with munchy pleasure. Artorian harrumphed. “That little traitor!”

  Jiivra nudged her Headmaster in the ribs after an hour. She had to get comfortable while the entire student body lined up to give Dawn a handshake. “The Saint title is the faith version of what adventurers call the S-ranks. Those people are so powerful that… I don’t even know if I can make a comparison. They end up ruling countries because there is simply nothing to oppose them. Entire wars have been decided by which side’s S-ranker fell first, as that single detail determines an outcome immediately.”

  She swallowed and steadied her voice. “In the Choir, all S-rankers automatically become Saints. Even if you were an A-ranked Vicar before. The title swap is instant, as are the expectations. There’s so few left in the world that you just don’t see them outside of positions of incredible influence and reach.”

  Artorian nodded and motioned for another bun; he was handed a few and copied Blanket’s eating pattern of ‘more food in the stomach is better’. Jiivra said nothing even though she would ordinarily scold him, since it put a fraction of a smile on the Saint’s face. She was glancing over far too often. Also, she was an instructor, not a student! Jiivra quenched that thought immediately; the Saint could call her a piece of grass and her only response was going to be a resolute ‘thank you’.

  She sipped her tea with a hint of spite, and a long slurp. The tiny smile vanished from Dawn’s face, and the celestial cultivator just about gagged on her drink. Oh, come on! Jiivra stood with a grumble and quickly took steps away to plop herself down next to Astrea. Abyssal Saints and their abyss blasted preferential treatment.

  Astrea enjoyed the addition of the company. Her social status had risen significantly, and she was no longer getting the cold shoulder. Fully included in a very familial feeling unit as the Skyspear survivors paid no further mind to her infernal nature. She was getting buns and water refills with the rest of them. Astrea was included in jokes and jabs, and didn’t get flak for returning them.

  Artorian noted the interaction, pleased as a busy bee after finding lots of honey that his granddaughter was getting some well-deserved social time. His little one was smiling and laughing. Surrounded by devastation or not, that made his world just one bit better.

  “She doesn’t look like you.” Dawn weightlessly leaned on Artorian’s shoulders, curling around his back like a ghost that didn’t bother to adhere to gravity’s rules. Her hands were atop one another, placed down just so she could rest her chin on them. Artorian smiled with a grandfatherly sigh, matched with an expression that signaled both pain and pride.

  “She’s my daughter all the same, and I love her so. We’ve two more kiddos to rescue. I’ll figure out the rest from there.”

  Dawn nodded as she bit her lip. “About that… talk. Is now a good time?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Artorian held his chin as Dawn told him about her mistake: that she’d accidentally been fooled into making a land-vow which prevented her from leaving the region. She was full of guilt since she wanted to help his other ventures. It’s not like she was otherwise tied down with social responsibility, or the usual confines an S-ranker tended to lock themselves into. She was fresh, with the ability to freely do as she pleased.

  He pressed a bun into her hand when she was getting too down on herself. “Eat something, you’ll feel better.”

  She just ended up shaking her head. “I no longer need to eat. Or anything of the sort.”

  “You’ll feel better.” He pressed the bun into her hand regardless. His tiny supportive little smile made her take a weak, unnecessary bite from the dumpling. He gave her a look of ‘go on’ and she took a bigger bite. It gave Jiivra a migraine to watch her Headmaster make a Saint eat.

  “So, so long as Skyspear stands, you have to protect it from a possible threat. I’ve got that right?” Dawn pursed her lips, body language making her seem small as she curled in on herself. Her tiny, almost nonexistent *mhm* squeaked out at such a pitch that Blanket thought there was another animal around. The C-ranked beast momentarily poked his head up out of Astrea’s lap, but went back to napping while several people rubbed his fur. Such was the difficult, rough life of a soft sugar glider.

  Artorian glanced at the mountain, and exhaled, “Well, alright then.”

  He leaned back and called to his family. “Alexandria, dear. Those Fellhammers. I mean, the Dwarven group we had come by. Did they mention th
ey were going to come back? What happened to them?”

  His spry youngest got up from her group huddle, taking her bowl with because there was no way she was done snacking. She plopped down next to her Headmaster as best she could, but Dawn was taking up an incredible amount of space even if she was just hovering around her adoptive grandfather’s back. She wasn’t bothered, but glared at Dawn while deliberately scooting her butt closer. The entire idea of power dynamics and differences didn’t quite… register. Dawn smiled from ear to ear at Alexandria’s feistiness. She loved people with fire in them.

  “They left after you went on your walk. I had someone write it down, but it’s up there.” Her tiny hand pointed to the top of the mountain.

  The Headmaster exaggeratedly made large upper body nodding motions. “Beautiful, beautiful! I figured you might remember more, without the writ? You are the smart one after all. What did they say?”

  Alexandria sat up a little straighter, trying to fit the image she was being given. She didn’t dislike feeling smarter than the tall ones, and her chest puffed out a bit even though her eyes squinted and her forehead frowned. “They…”

  Both her hands held the side of her head as she tried to remember. It was kind of adorable. “They said they would be back in seven moons with reinf… reinfurt? Reinforcing mints!”

  Her grandfather leaned over and whispered into her ear, and the youngest jumped to repeat it. “Reinforcements!”

  Artorian pretended to not have said anything at all, performing another dramatic iteration of positive nodding as he closed his eyes. “I see, I see.”

  Alexandria didn’t follow. “Grandad, your eyes are closed, you can’t see.”

  Dawn snorted and had to look away, covering her mouth with her hand while Artorian beamed, and peeked through his eyelids. “Boo!”

  Playfully screaming, Alexandria jumped up and ran away, ducking for cover into Blanket’s grasp. The critter had jerked up upon hearing the outcry. It bundled her up and hissed at anyone in the vicinity trying to touch her, not realizing they were all family. Blanket wasn’t exactly awake, so it was all instinct. The interaction got a chuckle out of nearly everyone, but Jiivra’s expression remained flat and unamused.

  “What’s wrong?” Astrea whispered in Jiivra’s ear, and the quiet words shook her out of her visual, albeit silent grumbles.

  “Nothing.” She glanced to Dawn a little long, pouting over how she was just fawning over her Headmaster. “Nothing.”

  Astrea was doing her best not to giggle. “Uh-huh… don’t worry, there’s someone out there for you.”

  The surrounding students said nothing as their combat instructor was being figuratively slain. It was feed for the gossip mill, and the sheer discomfort of their instructor fed them better than any feast Artorian could plan.

  The red-faced instructor was on her feet and marching away while Astrea smiled broadly with her teeth showing. Interrupting Dawn was preferable to this torture! Sure, it was harmless and nothing was meant by it beyond being the butt end of a joke. Still, she was terrible at handling it. “Headmaster. What do we… what do we do from now on? Everything is gone.”

  The students quieted down. The answer carried some importance to them. “Well…”

  Artorian raised his hand up, and Dawn helped him stand. The answer was important, and he understood that in this case, there wasn't any joking allowed. This was their lives. “I have a teensy plan. It is going to sound like an odd plan until you hear it all the way through.”

  “You’ve had normal plans?” Alexandria’s face was hooded by Blanket’s wing, but her eyes were exposed, and she saw no problem with butting in to blurt out her comment. A stifled laugh went through the student body.

  Dawn decided she really liked this one. Her friend was stumbling over his words for a moment. Oh yes… definitely liked that one. Recovering, Artorian began to pace without thinking. Dawn let him go and floated up so as to not be in his way, lying sideways on vacant space to watch the show.

  “So, I asked about the Dwarves because I am going to pull off an absolutely bonkers idea.” Eyebrows went up. We’d gone from ‘teensy and odd’ to ‘absolutely bonkers.’ Oh, they needed to know. Their Headmaster motioned at the devastation all around them.

  “We can rebuild on the land, but all of the value, all the gold, all the treasure, really anything of value, is under it. When the Dwarven reinforcements come, I expect they’re not quite going to expect… this. I want to play on that viewpoint. For reference, I am no longer the landowner.” He motioned to Dawn. “She is, and since it’s only been roughly a week since they left, they don’t know that.”

  His pacing quickened. “We, as the little family we are, will steadily move the academy down from the mountaintop. We’re moving! Now, I know this might sound strange, but that’s what I meant with odd. When the Dwarves come, we’re going to ‘convince’ them to build a settlement here. ‘Here’ including…”

  Artorian pointed down. “Under the ground. I’m sure you’re all very aware of the tunnels. Now I don’t know about you, but I hate the idea of leaving those unguarded; shifted around or not. The promise of free wealth should be enticing, but I want to sweeten the pot.”

  He motioned at the mountain. “Recall how we’ve been mining it for wealth and trading the metal to Jian? Well, underground construction takes a lot of stone, and starmetal is no joke. That should get them to salivate. I want to rebuild the academy above ground. With some silly feature, like on a lake or something if we can get a whole lot of water together. It’s an idea in progress. Don’t look at me like that.”

  His pacing continued. “While beneath the ground, using the entire mountain as a mineable resource likely means an inquisitorial secret base gets constructed. One able to house an entire—if not multiple—Dwarven clans. They’re fantastic at keeping tunnels in check, and who would suspect a secret Dwarven base under a cultivation school?”

  He spoke under his breath, eyes flicking to Dawn as he turned so nobody saw. “Skyspear specifically refers to the menhir shaped mountain. If the mountain doesn’t stand, there’s no land-vow to apply. Contract loophole, found!”

  Tiny cogs started turning in the Incarnate’s mind. Would… would that work? It was dumb, and taking a vow to the letter. However, if that was enough, she’d be free of the location she’d otherwise forever be trapped within. Her glimmering smile let the old man know she was on board with his scheming. A student's hand went up, and he pointed at it.

  “What about a really awesome tall tower!”

  An *oooh* resounded around her, and another student filled in. “A nine-tiered pagoda!”

  “Why stop at nine? Why not more, like a spear!”

  Artorian rolled his shoulders at the student suggestions. Yes, excellent. That was exactly the kind of positive forward thinking he was hoping for. He glanced to Jiivra, and she gave a thumbs up. For her, it was several beasts with one stone. Her academy would get saved, she wouldn’t be separated from her family, and she’d make a branch of the Church do work for her.

  Now that would be tasty, tasty vengeance.

  The students had glints of scheming joy in their eyes. They got to be included in one of the plans, and what a plan it was! As a bonus, no more mountain meant no more stairs. That was huge for them, and the whispers between them would ensure that detail would be kept quiet, lest someone get the bright idea to add some.

  Artorian beamed and rubbed his hands together like an evil villain. “Looks like everyone’s in. Here’s what we’re going to do…”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Inquisition rolled up on a hill far steeper than they remembered. It wasn’t that detail they were bothered about, but that rain the size of marbles pelted them from above. The kicker was that the water was black, like it contained the remnants of a massive forest fire. Even midday, it was dark. Pyrocumulus clouds densely packed together overhead, visible cracks of red lightning snapping between them.

  The gloom served to make t
heir trip all the more eerie. A league and a half away from their goal, the entire cohort dropped to a standstill. All foliage and vegetation this far out had been flattened, and some still burned regardless of the heavy pitter-patter of rain. They could see the horizon in every direction because there was nothing left to block their line of sight, save for the hill.

  A roughly five-hundred strong force had marched to Skyspear, the majority of whom were grumbly. The reason they’d stopped a league and a half away was the road itself. The trodden dirt patch changed into packed, dense clay and charcoal. Further up, shimmering flat patches of glass could be seen reflecting the scant trickles of light that made it through the clouds. All in all, not enough of a concern to stop a military convoy.

  Kiwi Fellhammer pressed his hand over his eyes, shielding his Essence fueled vision from the unwelcome shower. “Those are definitely suits of burnt out armor lining the roadside. It doesn’t seem like anyone be in ‘em.”

  O’Nalla’s expression was sour, she didn’t like the rain. Her arms were crossed while she rode atop the front of the primary support cart. Even though the hooding of the Dwarven caravan kept her dry, it didn’t improve her mood any. “So can weh go now?”

  Kiwi grumbled in Dwarven under his breath. “Ah think so. ‘Bout half a league from the hilltop, there be kneeling suits of armor on either side of the road. There’s a destroyed sword in front of each of ‘em, and their helmet be resting on the hilt. They’re as ruined and scorched as the rain that’s fallin’, and there be a person sitting at the hill’s apex. I can see the back of a robe, and the interesting bit is that it ain't wet in the least. There’s a bubble around the bloke keepin’ all the water away.”

  That last spot of news was far more interesting to O’Nalla Fellhammer. Anything that kept water away was a friend of hers. She pulled on the warhorn and tooted the combination for the march to continue. When the Dwarves came up behind him, Artorian didn’t turn to greet them. He just sat on a dry pillow in the middle of the road, overlooking the desolation. O’Nalla was pleased as a Dwarfling who’d just gotten her first clan mug to be immune to falling water once she stepped within the bubble, but the sight that awaited her made even her hardened heart drop.