The Chronicle

by David F. Farris

  Lilu smiled and leaned against the banister as she unrolled the note. It was short and to the point. Bryson and friends made it back okay. Mission accomplished. I hope all is well. I love you.

  She balled up her fist and shook it victoriously. Nobody had died. For once, things went as planned. She looked up from the note. Gracie stood in the doorway, observing her with her nose wrinkled. “You know that monster?”

  Lilu laughed and walked past her back inside. “Her name is Radon, and she’s a falcon.”

  “Falcons aren’t native to the Intel Kingdom,” Gracie said.

  The princess sighed. “Stop prodding me.”

  “Was the note from your dad or secret pen-pal lover?”

  Lilu whipped around, her ivy green eyes fixed on her friend. It was a glower that would’ve made any sane person cower. Alas, Gracie was not sane. She was basically Jilly with more of a bite.

  “Hurry up and get ready,” Lilu said. “We’re off to the lab. Today’s the big day; we get to test the travolter.”

  * * *

  Lilu and Gracie met up with Limone in Weavineer Tower’s lavish lobby and even got a bite to eat at the café inside. Often times, Lilu couldn’t believe she worked in such an environment. As they reached floor eighty-seven, they quickly devoured the rest of their food before having to chuck it away upon entry to their laboratory. It was a clean space, after all.

  As history had proven countless times, Frederick was already in his lab coat and fidgeting with a monstrous structure. He was always the first one to arrive, and if it wasn’t for Lilu, the same would have rung true for being the last to leave.

  Lilu groaned. “Cut it out, Frederick. No more adjustments need to be made.”

  Frederick closed a latch in the side of the travolter. “With the company we’ll be keeping today, better safe than sorry.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Lilu said, pulling a lab coat over her shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Limone?” She turned and gave the round young man a pleading look. After a long moment of doubt in his eyes, she sighed. “Color me surprised.”

  Lilu walked across the lab, stopping as Gracie ran ahead to the travolter’s rear and climbed the stairs into the cockpit. She began to fidget with the wheel, nobs, and levers.

  All Lilu could do was stand in shock. “Even you, Gracie?”

  “The Suits are coming today!” she exclaimed. “It’s important to my uncle that I don’t let them down.”

  Lilu shook her head with a smile and pat Limone on the back. “It’ll be okay.”

  As Limone waddled toward the travolter and joined the team, Lilu headed for the chalkboard that stood on the center platform above the kilning pit. She stepped across the miniature bridge that connected the main floor to the stage, the kiln’s heat wafting up her legs.

  She compared the designs to her original blueprints from a few years ago, which were pinned to the corner of the chalkboard. She had come a long way. After a year of training at IWA and several months of being a personal student of Frederick, she had learned more in this brief period than she had in her entire life. And with the combined brainpower of her Weapon’s Weavineer team, the travolter had improved beyond what she had originally comprehended. They each had added their own stamp to its functionality, and she was confident in each alteration.

  In fact, she had been so confident in their invention that she had gone to the 119th floor to personally visit Wendel LeAnce a couple weeks back. That was when she informed him of their daunting project and how it was only a few days away from completion.

  She couldn’t shake the image of Wendel’s reaction from her mind: the expression of awe, his open smile wide enough to create wrinkles on an otherwise smooth face, and his finger pointed toward her as he said, “That’s why you’re in charge.”

  He then requested that she refrain from any testing, for he wanted to be there to witness it—along with a few others who had, apparently, been dying to meet her. Needless to say, Lilu had spent the past few days unable to eat, her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety. Still, she soldiered on. Gracie, Frederick, and Limone were convinced that she had nerves of steel, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  A high-pitched squeal pierced through the laboratory’s wall—the unmistakable sound of the Intelevator reaching their floor. Now the panic really washed over her, and it must have been noticeable.

  “You’re not looking too good,” Gracie noted, hopping out of the travolter and sliding down its front to the floor. “What happened to ‘it’s not a big deal’?”

  “It’s a HUGE deal!” Lilu said, running to grab a wet rag from a nearby bench.

  As she wiped down the travolter’s frame, Gracie laughed. “Of course it is. Nobody was fooled by your charade. You’re the most tightly wound person I’ve ever met in my life.”

  The door to the observatory bridge above opened. From where she stood, Lilu couldn’t see their visitors; they had to walk a bit farther and reach the bridge’s fork. Her head buzzed and insides squirmed as she watched five blonde individuals come to a stop at their desired position. Professor Jugtah appeared last. He looked like a foreign species when compared to the rest of them. Besides the striking difference in body type and hair color, he also didn’t wear a suit like the others.

  Gracie was practically touching shoulders with Lilu. “Did you really manage to summon the entire LeAnce family?” she whispered, simultaneously waving at her uncle. Jugtah responded with a friendly nod.

  Wendel smiled down at the team. “Good morning, Weapon’s Weavineers. Consider this a historic day, for you have managed to assemble the most members of the League of Weavineers’ board of directors at once. We are looking forward to a safe and successful presentation. Take it away.”

  They may have already known who Lilu was, but she introduced herself anyway, along with her partners. It was proper etiquette in an environment such as this. She proceeded to describe the idea of the travolter before it became what it was today. A few of the board members asked questions, all of which Lilu answered flawlessly. As expected from minds such as theirs, they questioned every possible grievance they may have had with the theory. Luckily for Lilu, she had already spent years coming up with the same questions.

  As Lilu approached the travolter, she retrieved gloves and slid her hands inside before adjusting her safety goggles over her eyes. There were several Permanence vessels inside such a weavineering technological beast, each packed with millions of Intel chains that she had weaved herself. If any cracks were present in the surfaces of the hardened provod, it’d mean she had a volatile vessel on her hands. And with something of this magnitude, a small bang wouldn’t be the result—it’d be a detonation capable of clearing out the lab.

  “Gracie will be entering the coach’s seat,” Lilu said, “where she will command two important duties: steering and acceleration. Frederick sits next to her, and he is the gunner. Basically, his role is to aim the cannon by using a crank to rotate it. He also controls the cannon’s blast power. There are seven Permanence vessels contained within the travolter, and it is the job of the person manning the rear seat to keep the vessels filled if the supplies are depleted.”

  Wendel scratched at his chin and asked, “And one person will suffice? That’s an immense amount of weaving for one person—especially if the supply must be filled regularly.”

  “A valid concern,” Lilu said. “But more than one person can serve as a filler. What is important to note if that is the case, however, is that the people filling must understand the weaving patterns of their partner and be able to match it. Because we all know what happens if the EC chains in the supply are erratic and don’t hold a pattern.”

  Gracie threw up her arms from the coach’s seat and said, “Boom!”

  “Alright,” Wendel said. “Time for the show.”

  Lilu nodded and climbed up the travolter’s back steps before dropping into the cockpit between Gracie and Frederick. She leaned in close to her best friend and warned, �
�Do not just press your foot down.”

  Gracie guffawed. “I would never ...”

  Lilu gave her a side-eyed glance. “Ease into it,” she said, her gaze dropping down to Gracie’s green boots.

  Leave it to this girl to make a fashion statement when at work. As her foot gently pressed against the pedal, a zapping sound cracked from within the travolter, akin to when lightning struck a tree and snapped it at its base.

  Gracie inhaled sharply, but Lilu grabbed her thigh and said, “That’s what’s supposed to happen; keep going.”

  The wheels squealed underneath them, and the travolter began to move. Suddenly, Lilu’s stomach and chest relaxed. She looked toward the bridge—now sitting at eye-level—and saw the five board members and Professor Jugtah switching rails to get a better angle of Lilu’s invention. They whispered to each other out of the sides of their mouths, giving an occasional nod.

  “Spin it,” Lilu said.

  Frederick grabbed a handle to his right and began to roll it. As he did, the cannon slowly rotated three-hundred and sixty degrees, displaying its ability to target foes in any direction.

  Lilu’s head yanked back as the travolter suddenly jerked forward. She glared at Gracie, who gave her a guilty look. The travolter began to move with a little more speed—more than she had planned.

  “Take your foot off the pedal!” Lilu yelled.

  “I already did!”

  While the wheels were no longer being fed Intel chains, they continued to spin from the momentum. Lilu cursed out loud, realizing their careless error as the machine rolled across the laboratory. It was like an unmanned market cart going downhill. She forgot to create a method to stop this thing!

  “Get out!” Frederick shouted as the machine continued forward, the wall only a dozen paces away.

  They each scurried down the back steps, Limone already standing a ways behind the contraption. Just as their feet connected with the floor, they heard the sound of a collision and contorting metal behind them.

  Lilu slowly turned to assess the damage, fearing its severity. The travolter’s cannon lay on the floor, snapped at its base. A significant hole had been punctured in the wall. Thankfully, the length of the cannon saved the rest of the travolter from suffering the same fate.

  “It needs to be reinforced with steel,” a woman said from above.

  Lilu turned and spotted the woman. Her blond hair crashed in waves down her back.

  “It’s already a clunky and heavy machine,” Lilu said. “Steel would only make it more difficult to move.”

  “Yes, but hardened provod is weak unless against an elemental energy. A Powish fist would break it. Don’t worry. We have people who can take care of the welding. And we also have people who can improve your invention’s practicality, so that it’s not as unwieldy and awkward.”

  “Others will be helping?” Lilu asked.

  “Of course, young lady. It’s going to take more than four people to make this work. We want dozens of these things not only created, but fine-tuned and capable of reaching their maximum potential ... and you’ll have to leave the lab to lead this grander team, for they’re stationed in a complex in Brilliance’s most protected sector.”

  The lady walked off, heading for the door to the Intelevator. The rest followed save Wendel and Jugtah.

  Wendel grinned. “Don’t forget brakes next time.”

  16

  Socioenergenic

  Archaic King Toth Brench walked the courtyard gardens of Phelos Palace’s west wing alongside Tazama. He had made it a habit to avoid any place on the eastern side, where the destruction from the uprising was still prevalent. The lava may have rescinded months ago, but the charred land remained. Even a few corpses had yet to have been retrieved, contorted within the debris.

  Toth sniffed at the air. It was likely his imagination, but the scent of smoke and ash singed his nostrils.

  “Another import of funds today,” Tazama said.

  “From whom this time?”

  “Power Kingdom, per usual.”

  Toth nodded and sipped a glass of wine he was carrying with him. “I prefer it to be them. It’s less of a hassle since we don’t have to convert money between currencies. Hopefully, they continue such support.”

  “They’re very anti-True Light, so I’d say we have as much support from them as we do from Dev Prince Storshae and his kingdom.”

  Toth glanced at Tazama. “Why do you call him prince? It’s known that the only people who call him that fake title instead of king are those who follow him, which is basically anyone loyal to the Dev Kingdom.”

  The Dev servant’s blue eyes skated toward his. “What is it that you are implying, milord?”

  Toth’s eyes dulled. “Don’t address me in such a way.”

  “I am loyal to you and your kingdom,” Tazama said. “I’ve been separated from my home kingdom for too long to care much about it. And our relationship has been the healthiest I’ve had in my life. It was a welcome change from the Intel Kingdom and that vile man.”

  As they approached a small fountain, Toth focused on that instead of continuing the topic. He knew who she was talking about; she hated Mendac more than most.

  “We’ve made great progress over the past few months,” he said with a slight grin. “I didn’t know leading a kingdom would come as naturally as leading a business. The same rules apply. Of course, it’s made easy when I have the connections I do. It’s all about association. I know powerful people who, in turn, know other powerful people I cannot reach. Kingdoms are forking over cash.”

  Tazama used two hands to scoop up water from the fountain. A couple hummingbirds perched on the edge of her palm and began drinking from her hands. “Well, when you sit in the same realm as your enemies, you need all of the help you can get. The Dark Realm kingdoms in our alliance understand that about our position in this war. They also know if we perish, so does the advantage they have against True Light. They’ll do what’s needed to be done to fortify us.”

  Toth laughed. “Our biggest strength is our geographical location.”

  Tazama smiled. “We are the Dark Realm’s unguarded portal into the Light.” Her smile faded, peering past Toth’s shoulder. “He always manages to find you, that one.”

  Turning, Toth saw his closest partner throughout the past several years walking toward them—Wert Lamay, the King’s Proxy. Toth’s eyes fell to the stump at the end of Wert’s forearm, one of the more gruesome battle wounds from the uprising.When Elyol returned with Wert’s severed hand the night after Toth had been sworn in as the new king, he claimed that Ophala had been the culprit. Toth doubted such an assumption. Ophala didn’t have the stomach for it.

  “Good afternoon, Wert,” Toth said.

  “Hey,” he grunted. He then gazed at the woman behind Toth and said, “Tazama.”

  She offered a nod and a fake smile.

  “Have you come to talk?” Toth asked. “You deserve a day off.”

  Wert chuckled. “My days off were spent in a medical ward for a week, which is entirely too long for my taste already.” His gaze dropped to his deformed arm before he cleared his throat and said, “No, I’ve come with a routine update. We still have yet to find Ophala Vevlu. At this point, we’re not sure she’s even in the capital.”

  “Should we expand the search?” Toth presented the suggestion as a question rather than a statement—he knew how Wert responded to anything that sounded like an order.

  “Way ahead of you,” Wert said.

  “Stop talking,” Tazama said.

  Wert glared at her. “Even for you, such a display of disrespect is far out of line.”

  “Look at where we’re standing,” Tazama said dryly. “Observe your surroundings.”

  Toth understood what she was implying. They were standing directly next to a bird fountain. Any or all of these winged creatures could have been Ophala. Even Wert’s lips flattened.

  Toth shook his head and sighed. “Inside. We have a room for such discus
sion; let’s make use of it.”

  Moments later, they found themselves in an unused study, absent of windows or skylights.

  “As I was saying,” Wert said, “I’ve sent scouting units across the kingdom—from mapped cities to unnamed villages. We will find her, along with those who snuck through the secret teleplatforms recently.”

  “I see,” Toth said. “But you’re continuing to heavily man the teleplatforms, correct?”

  Wert raised an eyebrow. “You are very concerned with this development. It’s not like True Light has anyone capable of constructing a teleplatform. Who cares if they studied the cluster in the Dev Kingdom? It will do them no good.” Wert waved a dismissive hand, curling his lips. “We know that all but three returned to the Intel Kingdom, according to Storshae’s scout who patrolled the normal platforms in the Dev Kingdom. As for the three assassins who we assume teleported here based off the recent disturbance in the outskirts, we’ve been keeping an eye out. Still, they can’t do much with Sigmund on our side. He has a Branian.”

  Toth eyed Tazama, who slowly shook her head. Clearly, she wasn’t idiotic enough to downplay the presence of a Jestivan in their territory. At least they knew it wasn’t Bryson or Olivia. Toth decided to not press the subject with Wert.

  “Speaking of Sigmund, how is the prince?” Wert asked.

  The king gazed at the carpet, not quite sure how to put it in words. “He’s still ... out of it. A few therapists have been with him every day, but they all say the same thing. He’s suffering from insurmountable anxiety caused by his experience during the uprising.”

  “I’ve seen such behavior,” Wert stated. “When soldiers come back from battle, not all of them possess the same sort of minds they had left with.”

  “He isn’t even speaking,” Toth said.

  Wert nodded gravely. “Mindsets vary in response to something of that magnitude. He killed two people who he once considered friends. Now, he questions everything.”