An Arcanist's Citadel 14 (Patreon)

An Arcanist’s Citadel

Chapter 14

-VB-

Ktella.

Her mentor gave her that name. He told her that it was the name of his own orphaned master, and seeing as she didn’t have parents or even a name, he thought it fitting to bestow it to her. It was a name she kept when she chose to remain with the Ordamunth after reaching her maturity, because it had become her name by that point in her life. 

Though it was a meaningless word for those who walked in the light, it possessed a meaning to those who had Spirit Sight. In the old tongue of the forgotten kingdom whose records were wiped from Palaven’s archives thousands of years even before they flew out into the void, her name meant serenity. 

She did not feel serene at all.

She’d been an agent of the Ordamunth for close to ten years now. She could go so far as to say that she spent most of her life in the Ordamunth. She was a veteran by her people’s standard. With veterancy came knowledge. Then with knowledge came understanding. And finally, understanding led to wisdom.

And what little wisdom she possessed screamed at her that humans were mental.

On Palaven and any other turian colony, an Ordamunth agent would be lucky if they ran into a spirit once a month. They would be very unlucky if they ran into a hostile wraith once every year.

But here on a human colony that wasn’t even a hundred years old, there were dozens of spirits in this city alone. 

She didn’t know what implications that had. Were humans more spirituals? Or were turians more likely to move on? Was it the differing attitude, culture, or even religion?

Whatever the case was, what she and the magi of the Ordamunth had thought about humanity had been grossly miscalculated if there were individuals like Alan Marris.

What if he was exaggerating? This was a reasonable question, and it would be one that that the Ordamunth would visit Earth and its colonies to verify. 

For now, she needed to deal with the situation on the ground here since she received the latest order from the Ordamunth’s elders. 

[Continue to observe the situation. If you have basic primers available, then you may exchange those at your discretion.]

This was the worst part about her situation. 

A First Contact scenario. Sure, it wasn’t with a new species, but it was still a First Contact scenario because if the Ordamunth learned anything over the last several thousand years, then it was that a species’s First Contact generally differed from its magical/spiritual society’s First Contact. 

Almost always the “Hidden Worlds,” as the asari liked to call theirs, reacted violently. Aggressively so. 

The krogans had been the exception, apparently, from what she learned from her peer in the Hidden Worlds. 

In a way, human’s hidden society had reacted violently when faced with outside contact. No one would deny that Alan Marris had been thorough in his extermination of the raiding slavers. 

She wished he had been less so.

Ktella took a deep breath in. “So that’s the situation,” she finished while looking around her squadmates. 

All of them looked sick at the thought of essentially being voluntold to represent the Ordamunth to the most powerful individual Ordamunth ran into. Normally, this would be a great honor, but after seeing what the human man had done to thousands of batarian souls, every single one of them was terrified. 

Death in the line of service was always a possibility for everyone here. No, not a possibility. It was the expectation. Normal people - regardless of race - just didn’t understand the horror of the afterlife. Of the monsters that prowled between the gaps in reality. Of the soul eating demons that patiently waited for their next meal. 

Often times, newcomers had to be educated on the threat ratings.

Ordamunth possessed five frigates, one destroyer, and one cruiser. All of them were better equipped, better armored, and better crewed than all but the 1st Palaven Fleet, the crown jewel of the Hierarchy Navy. More importantly, all of the weapons and hull of those ships were blessed and enchanted with willingly given ritual sacrifices to protect them against the horrors.

And none of those ships - including the cruiser with its spinal cannon - was rated to fight what Ordamunth and the rest of the hidden societies classified as “world-class” spirits. Spirits who can make and remake worlds on a whim. Spirits who have in Ktella’s span of life so far remade at least two worlds that the hidden societies knew of. 

And right now, she was expected to negotiate and treat a being who was just a class below that: the god-class.

Because what was a god if not a being who can enslave thousands of souls by his lonesome? 

Worse than that, each of the spirits were being drained to fuel something. After Marris visited them, they already released the four spirits they managed to catch, but even catching those four had been an arduous task that burned through all of the minor artifacts they brought with them. Those artifacts would have been worth a fortune on the market, but they chose to let all of their work go because that’s how terrified they were.

But what they found out…

A long, slow, and torturous final death.

Every single one of those batarians suffered, and their suffering was being used to fuel the defensive wards covering the entire goddamn planet. But because of how efficient the wards were, the batarian souls were being eaten away very slowly and very painfully.

If there was a hell, then it would be here.

And Ktella sat here in this room on this world with the knowledge that if they pissed off this god-class human, that might be her fate.

“D-Do we have to?” someone asked. 

Under normal circumstances, she would have berated him for cowardice. 

“I’ll… go and talk with him,” she said, but taking care to not say the human’s name. In the spiritual worlds, names held power. And speaking the name of the human man whose reach covered the entire planet, enslaved thousands of souls who patrolled the world while they were being sucked dry, and possessed more mystical knowledge than even her mentor? 

For all she knew, it may be the same thing as inviting him into the heart of their temporary operation. 

Because this shit was going to be temporary. She was not coming back here if she could help it!

-VB-

Instead of meeting inside of their base, I chose a venue close by to negotiate with them. It wasn’t a cafe but a library. I felt that it was fitting. 

The turian woman had come with a second, and they sat across from me. The second had a backpack while she didn’t. 

With but a flick of my wrist and a snap of my wrist, I warded our immediate table to prevent people from reading things they shouldn’t or hearing things they didn’t need to know. 

“Thank you for your hospitality,” the woman said with a nod. “I am Ktella Fr’Andrisui, and this is Tan’Inuis Wel. We are of the Ordamunth of Palaven.”

“And you know me,” I smiled. “I am Alan Marris. I hold no formal position or association, but I am friends with the Emperor of New Qin.”

I saw her mandibles twitching a little. 

---

Ktella knew of New Qin.

It was currently the only open society as far as she knew. Its ruler was a magician, not a shaman or spiritualist, and openly peddled enchanted products for sale. Most people didn’t understand or even acknowledge the tiny human state, but 

In fact, New Qin had been the basis upon which Ordamunth and other hidden societies gauged humanity’s spiritual and magical capacity. 

Apparently, that had been the wrong assumptive move.

“You are an acquaintance of the New Qin Emperor?” she asked. 

“I am,” he smiled. “When it comes to rituals and wards, he is my superior.”

… What?

A man who put a whole planet under lock and key using thousands of souls as fuel for it … was the lesser? The New Qin Emperor never gave off that kind of mystical competence. It was another thing to add to her report. 

“You asked us about our … notes.”

“Indeed,” he said and reached into his backpack that he brought with him. “I came with my own notes. What are you interested in?”

She blinked.

What was she interested in? 

EVERYTHING!

Of course, that wasn’t go well because it would sound like an order. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure which one would be worse in her current situation. 

“... You are willing to let us ask for specific topics?” 

“Well, I don’t see why not,” he replied as if he wasn’t talking about mystical knowledge that would cost the GDP of small cities (if it was common information) and up to the worth of a whole world (if it was rare knowledge). “Now, let’s see what I brought with me. I don’t know how exactly you and your people classify your knowledge, but I should have at least one note on every topic I know of.”

He pulled out paper booklets, and her brain implant started to translate the “English” language into Palaven standard.

Spiritual Matter Extraction and Processing.

Soul-based Enchanting.

Shintoism-based Warding.

Abrahamic Magics.

Theory of Multiversal Operations.

And on and on.

Things that didn’t make sense. Things that couldn’t make sense. Things she didn’t want to know was possible. 

She grimaced as her second, Tan, brought out what they brought. 

5th Class Warding and Detection.

Codex Enymus wes Gaemonii.

Cultus teu Ordamunth.

“What is this one about?” Marris asked as he picked up Codex Enymus wes Gaemonii.

“It’s… a standard identification booklet for all standard types of spirits, souls, and demons that the Ordamunth is aware of and expects its people to encounter.”

“Ho…” he hummed. Then he slid the Abrahamic Magics and Emotional Sacrifice booklets. “Would these be a good exchange?” 

“May I?” she asked as she picked one up and made the motion to open it up.

“By all means.”

She opened it up and quickly skimmed through it. 

Her eyes widened as she went through the Abrahamic Magics. Even if she couldn’t use it, the thought that humans can … meant that she and Ordamunth needed to be prepared for them. 

She nodded. 

He smiled. “Wonderufl! And what is this about classes?” Marris asked after he set the codex down on his side and pointed to the 5th Class booklet. 

“The Ordamunth classifies certain practices and effects based on how hard it is to perform them or how effective they are against corresponding spirit classes,” she replied. 

He hummed as he opened the codex and flipped around. “I don’t see 5th class here.”

“5th class refers to the giants.”

“Giants…” he hummed. “‘Giant-class spirits, demons, and Others are those who are capable of matching a standard Hierarchy army platoon in combative firepower or their equivalent,’” he read. “Interesting, interesting. So that booklet would have spells and wards for … anti-artillery?” he asked. 

She blinked. “That is a good way to put it, yes.”

“Fascinating,” he said. And he sounded genuinely so. “And what are they based on? Belief? Personal mana reserve?”

“M-most are based on ancient rites and blood ties.”

“Blood ties?”

“Yes, they are …”

The discussion continued, and the longer it went on, the more Ktella felt at ease about Marris. 

It was clear to her that Marris, while powerful, was not an uncivilized warlock she’d feared he’d be but a scholar. 

A scholar who had a penchant for merciless torture but still a scholar worth carrying the title. 

And if there was something she knew about scholars and scientists, then it was that they craved new information.

She was fairly sure that as long as the elders of Ordamunth didn’t pull something stupid, then they will be able to enter an amicable relationship with him.

Then she noticed something. 

A human began to walk toward them. Cautiously, slowly, and openly. Her second noticed, too, and looked up.

Her senses warned her that the newcomer was someone on par with her spiritually. 

Marris noticed them noticing and looked over his shoulder. “Ah, Major Kim. What brings you here?” he asked. 

This “major” bowed once when he reached them at the edge of the barrier. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m just here to deliver a message. Vicar Emiliano is here on Elysium, and will wait for you to meet with him.”

“Ah, yes. You did mention that to me last week,” he hummed. “Very well.” Then he paused. “Oh, right. Introductions. Major Kin, this is Shaman Fr’Andrisui of the turian Ordamunth. Miss Ktella, this is Major Young-Gil Kim of the Exorcisia Militant of the Roman Catholic Church.”

She sized him up.

He sized her up.

‘Well,’ she thought. ‘If regular human spiritualists are on his level, then that’s a relief.’ She gave him a nod. “A pleasure, major.”

He nodded back. Then he nodded to Marris and left. 

“... a major?” she asked. 

“The Roman Catholic Church is an independent entity from this colony or the Systems Alliance,” he replied. “But that’s for later. Unless you want my notes on them?”

She and the Ordamunth knew little about the Roman Catholic Church beyond that they were the face of the most prominent and populous human religion.

“I would like your notes on them, actually.”