50 - Ghostwater (Patreon)

By the time Bai Rou and Renfei had finished briefing Lindon and his group on their Ghostwater mission—another frightening reminder of Sky’s prescience—, the door to their private little room opened with a violent kick, and a bright presence blazed in his spiritual perception.

A totally bald-shaven and eyebrow-less Sky walked in, wearing the Skysworn apprentice outer robes—white and green—but not the inner robes, exposing his chest, as well as the enormous scar he bore, and his star pendant dangled above it. For all that it looked grotesque now, it had looked many times worse before his treatment.

His eyes were sunken, and he had a sheen of sweat on his face. Just from sight alone, he looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over, and that the backpack he was wearing, small as it was, was filled with iron weights.

But his spirit blazed with the unmistakable power of a Highgold.

Bai Rou stood to meet him. “Hope I’m not late,” Sky muttered as he simply walked around Bai Rou. “Where are we dropping?”

“You should be resting,” Renfei said, arms folded.

Sky shrugged and made a long noise. “Eeeah, no. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Renfei replied.

“Last I checked, my aesthetic rank was higher than yours,” Sky replied with a mocking grin, cutting past his sickliness. “Rumors of my indisposition were… exaggerated,” he turned around to give Lindon, Yerin and Mercy a smile. “Glad to see you all got out safely. Things could have gotten a lot worse—”

Yerin ran up to him and almost tackled him in a hug. She pulled back almost immediately afterwards as Sky made an agonized grunt, doubling over and wheezing. Then he drew himself up. “I’m fine,” he whispered, though his face seemed to darken a shade.

“Sorry,” Yerin said, smiling sheepishly.

“Order!” Renfei yelled, and Yerin’s Goldsign immediately pointed towards her. Bai Rou and Renfei backed up together, madra cycling, and Lindon stood up to defuse the situation.

“Stop it, Yerin,” Sky said sternly. “Go and sit.” Like always when he took on this mood, his voice darkened a little, and his eyes widened slightly. He turned back to Bai Rou and Renfei. “I’m coming with. Tell me where we’re going.”

Renfei spent several seconds just looking at him before acquiescing with a sigh.

Since there was no chair for him around this table, Sky remained standing while Renfei ran through the mission once more.

Soon, they were on their way. Orthos waited outside as usual, and they let Bai Rou and Renfei walk a little up ahead so they could have the opportunity to talk.

“You’re not as weak as I thought,” Orthos said to Sky, and as always, he took whatever the old turtle said as the height of praise.

“I was only ever weak in my sacred arts,” Sky said, “But thank you. I’m glad to be back.”

Mercy walked with her hands behind her back, cradling her staff. “How are you feeling?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “I am in unimaaaginable pain.”

Mercy’s expression fell. “Oh. Should you really come with us, then?”

Sky looked down at her and flashed a brilliant smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Then he whipped his head towards Yerin. “Also, hugs? From the sword maniac? I would roughhouse with you so hard right now if I wasn’t confident that would set my recovery back,” he said as he threw his hand over her head and gave it a vigorous rub. She slapped the hand away and looked at him like he had grown an extra arm.

“I didn’t know that last hit popped you in the head, too,” she said. Sky turned to Lindon next.

“How are you mastering that scythe?”

It was… Lindon had to be honest with himself, but it was an incredibly awkward weapon. He wasn’t like Eithan, who could wield a broom or a pair of tailor’s scissors in combat. A scythe just didn’t make very much sense. It failed as a chopping weapon where an axe would have more success, it couldn’t thrust, and it couldn’t slice anything that you didn’t end up pushing towards yourself. Every cut you tried to make would only hit the opponent’s back, leaving nothing standing between them and you.

Without the binding, it was all but useless.

But it was an incredibly potent sacred instrument. To be ungrateful for it would be the height of disrespect.

“It’s difficult, but I am working hard,” Lindon said, and it was the truth.

Sky laughed. “I never should have given it to you. It’s a farming tool with a binding you can’t use. Might as well have given you a rake.”

“Swear on my soul, that’s what I said too,” Yerin said with a sardonic chuckle.

“I think you just need practice,” Mercy said, and Sky laughed.

“Yes. Hear Mercy? It’s a skill issue, Lindon. Just skill up.”

Lindon frowned at the ribbing. “Whether or not it’s a useful weapon, it’s still a powerful sacred instrument. I would much rather you give that to me than not.”

“I did have other weapons,” Sky said, “Same level of power, too. Arakmedes was quite the collector. I just gave you the scythe instead. There was a hammer, a halberd, an axe, a couple of spears, too.”

Lindon gaped. He couldn’t believe his ears. All this time, Sky had been carrying real, proper weapons of a similar caliber, and in his infinite, prescient wisdom, he decided to give Lindon an overpowered grasscutter? 

He turned his head to look at the blade of the Death Scythe, and looked back at Sky in aggrievement. “Why?!”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Sky said with a cryptic grin. Then he started whistling a tune.

“Who is Arakmedes?” Mercy asked.

Sky put his hands together. “This guy.” He spread his hands apart—

Then the entire hallway filled with searingly bright light. Lindon looked away almost immediately. Bai Rou and Renfei up ahead turned around in shock to see Sky laughing and coughing.

They shook their heads and continued walking up ahead.

“You trying to blind me?!” Yerin yelled.

“I forgot your eyes were so weak,” Sky said, “I could stare at the sun all day and not feel a thing. I do it sometimes when I’m bored,” he turned to Mercy, who was blinking away spots in her vision, grimacing, “Arakmedes was the owner of the Remnant that I used to advance. He was also a mentor of mine.”

“Oh,” Mercy looked sad at that, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lindon winced at that.

“Don’t be,” Yerin said, “He buried him himself.”

“That’s missing a lot of context!” Sky quickly interjected before giving a sharp glare to Yerin. He turned back to Mercy and sighed, telling her the story. Mercy’s initial reaction had been bewilderment, but as Sky kept talking, she began to understand.

“It’s still a shame,” Mercy said, “But you ended up becoming a scholar, right? Did you spread his knowledge?”

Sky nodded. “I got catapulted to the forefront of academia for it. I probably would have benefited from quietly continuing my research on the topics that I wanted to learn about, but I felt like I sort of owed it to him. And the fame was fun.”

“Sky,” Lindon interrupted, “Where are those weapons?”

“Hm? Eithan probably has them. He may have sold them off to afford my treatment though. Some of them, maybe.”

“Where is Eithan?” Lindon asked. Sky raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged.

“Hunting down Redmoon Hall with Gesha, I guess. If not, then I don’t know. He didn’t exactly check back with me.”

“And…” Lindon asked, looking at his shiny head.

“Listen, Lindon, just forget about the weapons, okay? The scythe is interesting. Just… deal with it.”

“Why are you bald, Sky?” Yerin asked.

Sky stopped.

A shadow passed over his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it.

He schooled his expression, and his jovial grin returned. “Man, I’m so excited to see where we’re headed!”

000

For the three days that Mercy had spent in the cramped cloudship, silenced by Bai Rou and Renfei and told only to cycle whenever the opportunity arose, Sky had seemed… remarkably compliant, compared to his usual self.

At times, he reminded her of her uncle, jovial and ready to joke around with the others, hardly conducting himself with that stifling decorum that most sacred artists did. Mercy still couldn’t forget how on their second meeting, he had tried to balance a chest of top-grade scales on her head to try and force her to take them. It was a ridiculous memory, and always served to elicit a smile from her.

Seeing him sprawled, with an ugly wound, barely able to breathe for three days straight, Mercy hadn’t known how to feel. The world would weep the loss of a sacred artist with so much potential to change the world. His strength hardly mattered compared to how radically different his ideas were. Even if he never became strong on a global stage, the Blackflame Empire would have stood to gain a lot from him.

Now, as opposed to when he dove for Yerin to try and save her life, he had proven his strength to her. Not based on his skill, but based on the fact that he still had it in himself to persevere.

Sky was out on the main deck, smoking an herb that smelled of mint and bananas rolled up in brown paper. He had gotten special leave to do so, explaining that it was to alleviate the discomfort in his chest. That he had only revealed this necessity after they had taken off was probably just another ploy to appear healthier than he was.

He was not. She could see it in almost every step, every breath. His voice had changed. He constantly seemed to be covered in a sheen of sweat, and at night, he hardly ever slept.

“Land ho,” Sky called out lazily as he stood behind the bow of the cloudship.

Bai Rou had been steering the ship, and Renfei was cycling next to her. Upon his word, they went to investigate. Sky walked into the cabin of the ship, and out from his pocket, he pulled out a pink and polished stone. He kicked Lindon, who was cycling quietly. He opened his eyes. Sky crouched and put the stone in his hand. Lindon’s eyes widened as he read the dream tablet. Mercy poked Yerin from her cycling, and she inched closer.

Sky then tossed her the same stone, and she read it.

“The first thing I’m going to want you to do is to hold the flag. Make sure we are all surrounding Bai Rou and Renfei before we activate it. Once he’s neatly in the middle, showtime.”

She opened her eyes to see Sky hand her a scripted boundary field flag. She snatched it and hid it before Bai Rou and Renfei would see it. “Sky,” Mercy hissed, “Please don’t do what I think you’ll do–” Yerin kicked her.

“And what is that?” Bai Rou and Renfei asked, from behind Sky. He had blocked her sight of them, so she hadn’t noticed their arrival. Her spiritual perception was also dulled by the impressions of the dream tablet.

Sky raised his hands placatingly, inching away from them so that his back was turned against the bow of the ship. “Nothing, sir!”

Madra flashed from him, and the boundary flag in Mercy’s inner robes flashed as well, unbidden.

Sky had maneuvered so that Bai Rou and Renfei had stood inbetween them all.

They instantly fell, as though dead. Mercy held back her shock, waiting to see if Remnants would rise. They did not.

Sky flashed her a grin. “Thanks, Mercy. Exactly as planned.” Lindon and Yerin immediately stood up, and Orthos popped his head out from his shell as well, surveying the scene.

“Finally,” Orthos said.

Sky clapped his hands together, “Okay, kids. Today, we’re going to do some fun pirate activities.” He knelt down and rummaged through Renfei’s pockets until he found a strange construct that looked like nothing less than a fist-sized sapphire made of dark seawater, its crystalline facets glimmering as though the gem contained a strange kind of inner sunlight. He stashed it in his pocket. Then, he unslung his backpack and removed a pair of constructs that were aspected with shadows and dreams. They took the form of spiders. He planted one on both Renfei and Bai Rou’s necks. “Now for the sabotage. We’re going to fake our deaths, commandeer this ship, and enter Ghostwater.”

“What do you need?” Yerin asked.

Sky turned around, and opened a door-sized void key in the middle of the cloudship.

The key was blocked by white light. Sky walked inside, and then walked out with a pair of buckets.

“What is that?” Lindon asked, staring transfixed at the void key. “What did you do?”

Sky put the buckets down, revealing them to be filled with… blood! Then he took his star pendant and kissed it. “A gift from my late mentor,” he looked up at the sky, kissed two fingers and threw that kiss up, “You will never be forgotten. Anyway, this is blood. We’re going to throw it around.”

He started doing just that, pouring blood all over the cloudship.

After that was done, he threw both buckets overboard into the ocean. “Listen, and listen very carefully,” Sky said, “We’re going to land the cloudship, and then we’re going to make a beeline directly into the portal frame. Don’t think about anything else.” He bent over and opened his sack, pulling out what looked like half a bubble. He put that in his pocket. “Each of you, take one. Lindon, steer the ship. I would myself, but my madra would probably not do the scripts any favors,” Finally, he turned to address Mercy, “I know this sort of stuff isn’t exactly your cup of tea, Mercy, but inside that facility is our shot at Truegold, and my shot at healing myself fully. We could have worked with Bai Rou and Renfei, sure, but they would never have allowed us in to begin with.”

“Why?” Mercy asked.

Sky looked over his shoulder. “Because, Mercy, we won’t be alone.” He turned to face the group again. “All Lord level weapons go into the void key. I’ve got spares for all of you.”

000

The island was getting closer and closer as their commandeered Skysworn cloudship lanced towards it. 

It was smaller than Yerin had imagined from Renfei’s mission briefing. it seemed abandoned, at least from a distance; a nameless point of nothing on the Skysworn’s maps, surrounded by nothing but the waters of the Trackless Sea. It seemed pretty enough, white-sand beaches and green palms with a strangely mountain-like hill in the center, but there was nothing else about it that seemed worth the effort of noticing.

Yerin’s skepticism was mounting. This the place Sky’s been talking up so much? Yerin wondered. Am I as chipped in the head as him, going along with this?

It was only when they reached the sands that Yerin could tell something was off; her spiritual senses suddenly gained a strangely hazy feel to them, a sort of invisible, formless fog shrouding the sands, the forest. What even was this? 

It was only when she noticed her two Goldsign swords raising around her like hackles that she realized what her instincts were screaming.

Veils. Heavens-only know how many. 

He was right. We aren’t alone.

And through that spiritual mist shrouding the island, there was one point that flared in her senses. A lonely doorframe, with an endlessly deep blue light shimmering within.

“Go!” Sky shouted. “Don’t stop for anything!”

Yerin did exactly as she was told, running like the wind, kicking sand behind her with every step. Lindon was on top of Orthos’ shell as he ran, having learned nothing from the last time he tried that, and Mercy seemed to propel herself with her dragon staff, that occasionally doubled as some kind of bow for her Striker techniques. Burn her soul to ashes if she knew why she even needed a bow when she had Striker techniques, but if her mother was a Monarch, then nothing she did was ever without reason.

Sky kept up easily, white bands covering his body and speeding up his movements. He ran just a little in front of her, and on his hand was a wide tablet.

The portal frame was upon them.

An immense, suffocating awareness fell on them, like spiritual chains. The will of an affronted Lord or higher. It was only a flash in the pan, but it was enough to give Yerin third thoughts on top of the second thoughts she already had.

Still, they rushed straight through. 

Reality seemed to tear apart in her senses like paper, revealing a deep, endless, textured blue, before another image settled in its place.

The space on the other side of the portal was strange, a dark, bubble-shaped pocket of air choked with thick, turgid water aura. It felt like being at the bottom of a deep, dark sea.

Underneath them was sand, slightly different than the sand from the beach. The only light-source inside was a green, tube-like plant that grew like a tree. Yerin recognized it as a kind of plant that usually grew underwater, though she couldn’t name the species if a sword was at her throat.

Yerin’s spirit immediately informed her of the others. A man with green horns camped inside a hut made of sticks and leaves, an effeminate boy with long black hair, wearing white robes with a halo of darkness above his head seated on a giant boulder, cycling quietly, and a woman with long hair draped in front of her face wearing a red cloak that reeked a familiar scent. Yerin almost lost her focus there and then, but even if her goal wasn’t to run away, that would have cost her dearly, considering the fourth presence, a lizard-like woman decked in silken robes of almost every color under the sun. Her scales were golden, mirroring her golden eyes, staring at them like they owed her money.

“Who are you people?” The dragon woman in gold said, her eyes flickering to their backpacks. Her long, snakelike tongue flicked out, as if tasting the air. “What… are you carrying?”

Yerin drew her sword. Lindon cycled Blackflame. But from the corner of an eye, Yerin noticed Mercy… hesitating, staring in shock at the white-robed young man cycling atop the rock. 

Out of all of these Truegolds, he felt the most dangerous of all. 

Sky’s madra flared, and he looked at the tablet. His head turned in a single direction. “This way,” he said quietly. “Run.”

They did.

The womanlike lizard threw a stream of golden flames after them, bubbling and billowy. Sky pointed his spear—a mundane wood and steel version of it—behind him and shot off his own Striker technique. Yerin looked away from it before it could blind her. The technique lit up the environment, revealing a wall of water in their way.

The two techniques canceled out.

“Masks on,” Sky said, putting on that half-bubble that he had given out to all of them, and then he dove head-first into the water.

Yerin looked behind to see the golden dragon girl follow them.

Run was Sky’s advice. It rubbed her raw to be told to run away from a fight, but the dragon woman’s Truegold spirit shone far too brightly to ignore. Still, they were five against one measly Truegold. How hard could it have been?

In the end, her trust in Sky won over. This was supposed to be his bright and shiny treasure island. If wasting time standing and fighting was worse than moving on ahead, Yerin wouldn’t argue. And there was no telling how the other three would react if they stood and fought. She dove in after him. Orthos followed, and as did Mercy.

The moment she dove in, the mask expanded to cover her entire head, not only giving her breathable air, but letting her look through the water without her eyes blurring. The mask was a heaven-sent treasure at this time. Cycling madra without being able to breathe was like pushing mud through a straw, and if her perception wasn’t yanking her chain, they weren’t alone in these waters. With each exhalation, bubbles of air gushed out from the bubble, and the mask supplied her with more fresh air.

Fortunately for them, they didn’t encounter anything in their way before popping on out into another expansive bubble of air.

Sky continued running, this time forgetting himself and moving far faster than the rest of them. He stared at his tablet as he did, taking them to a big and rocky building. It was hard to tell where the entrance was, but Sky was making his way to the face of one wall.

He pulled his sack off, rummaged through it, and produced a glowing sapphire orb, putting it into some inlet in the rock. The rock melted away into the ground, as did the rocky wall, granting them access to the building. Sky waited for everyone to pass. Yerin cast out her senses to look for the Truegold dragon lady.

“She caught our scent,” Sky said with a growl. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll annihilate her if she tries to gang up on us. She’s delusional to think she’ll win.”

“Why run, then?” Yerin asked.

“She’s not worth our time,” Sky said. “More importantly, the portal’s still open, and her Underlady big sister’s waiting outside, and an entire dragon army–all under the guardianship of their Herald. Multiple Heralds and Sages are outside.” Sky worked his jaw, and looked as serious as Yerin had ever seen him. “The fact that they even let us in was half the battle, and just like I suspected, they don’t think we pose a threat. We’ve forced ourselves through the cracks of a truce between world factions, and we don’t want to upset them. Yet.”

Yerin felt a chill at that. “Got it.”

Finally, Orthos had arrived, with Lindon on his back, hacking and coughing. He threw himself off from the turtle’s back and got on his feet, entering the cave, leading to a stairwell further down.

Once they traveled down the stairs, they heard grinding as the entrance once again closed.

Sky fell on his knees and wheezed. He patted his robes down and produced another one of those rolled herbs. Shakily, he put it to his lips and lit one end with his finger. The burning end shone brightly as a result, and he took deep inhalations, calming himself down.

By the time he had collected himself, everyone had surrounded him.

“Are you okay?” Mercy asked, looking down at him in concern. Sky stood up and dusted off his knees, the roll hanging in his lips.

“Not yet,” Sky said, though there was a hint of bitterness in that statement. Sky looked around in the room. It was a wide hallway filled with doors. He took the roll out from his lips, letting them rest between his index and middle finger. “There should be a purple pond somewhere. First to find it gets a sip of the mystery water. You may encounter a talking construct. Don’t break it. It’s the most valuable treasure on this planet.”

Her heart thundered at that. At this point, Yerin was almost inclined to believe him. He’d taken them this far, after all.

Then he gave a strained smile and spread his arms. “Welcome to Ghostwater!”

000

The Sage of the Silver Heart raised a hand to encourage peace in a meeting between Heralds and Sages. Encourage was the operative word. One would think that sacred artists advanced beyond the stage of Archlord would be capable of discussing important matters with cool heads, but Charity had never found that to be true. As the Heart Sage—a title earned in part due to her perfect control over her emotions—she knew that she was in the minority in terms of her attitude.

The meeting room in her castle could hardly contain the displeasure of the two bickering Heralds in their midst. Cracks ran through the violet and ebony walls, the amethyst chandeliers up ahead shook precariously, and the obsidian tiles on the floor were starting to shatter into spider-web patterns. Thankfully, it would hardly cost her much to repair, else she would have stopped them long ago.

Instead, she left them to their tantrum such that the result of it would further aid her in making her point. 

“Does a plot this hamfisted carry even a sliver of my signature?” Charity asked the people in attendance. Well, ‘people’ was a stretch. There were three people, two rabid beasts working themselves up in a frenzy, and a person that had long-forgotten how to be a person. 

Xorrus snarled at her. She was as human as they came, outwardly. Long golden hair, pale skin, and perfectly human eyes, gold with black pupils, perfectly round. There was no part of her that suggested a draconic ancestry, apart from her manners. Her dress, too, betrayed wealth and opulence beyond words: the rarest of sacred silks, gold and white with diamonds, rubies and assorted gems festooned around her in silver strings. Her clothes alone would empty the coffers of the country from which these Blackflame interlopers hailed from. Still, one could not buy humanity. Not even with advancement. It gave Charity a measure of satisfaction, however, to know that these sacred beasts who were always at odds with humanity still could not deny the power of their form. “Perhaps that is a part of your trick, Silver Heart,” Xorrus said, “Your ways have always been dark and mysterious.”

“Veil yourself before you harm my servants,” Charity commanded, “I will not sit here and be accused of crimes with zero basis in reality while you destroy my home.”

On the invitation of the Sage of the Silver Heart, all six faction leaders had come, ostensibly to discuss the fate of the intruders, but it took all Charity’s will to prevent this meeting of Heralds and Sages from devolving into little more than a petty forum for the grievances of overly-advanced children. 

She was not sure if she was succeeding. Rather than staying on focus, the aggrieved parties had used this meeting as an opportunity to vent their ire about every petty internecine insult under the sun–an inevitability when so many world factions were brought in such close proximity. The Beast King’s apprentices had stolen a feast of sacred sea urchins from the Tidewalkers while their sect leader had looked the other way. Despite not even having any Refiners that could make use of it, Xorrus had stolen the Blood Sage’s refining equipment. The Ninecloud Sage had been robbed of some valuables the morning after a botched attempt at courting one of Xorrus’ Archladies—which in itself was a mindboggling idea to entertain, that he had even attempted this in the first place.

Akura Charity had a list of her own petty grievances as well, though she would never have had the gall to share them, knowing how insignificant they were in the grand scheme of things. Rather than use them as a defense from other accusations and lengthen the proceedings, she would rather get the meeting back on track as soon as possible, even if it cost her some concessions. The combined fury of King Wenye of the Tidewalkers and Xorrus, left hand of the Desert Monarch, was regrettably enough that she would rather cut her losses before this tropical island became a drowned desert.

King Wenye, the Herald of the Tidewalker sect, drummed four fingers on the table, one arm slung behind his chair, head tilted to reveal three slits of flappy skin revealing pink underneath: gills. He was brown-skinned, with long, perennially wet brown hair that fell down to his shoulders, and around his head was a crown of fangs of some aquatic beast. He had a necklace of sharp hook-shaped fangs as well, over his bare and rock-hard chest. He didn’t wear inner robes, only a set of blue and black outer robes. Though his human form was almost perfect, aside from his gills and teeth, he also looked like a shark: small, beady eyes, a pronounced jaw, and a prominent nose, the bridge connecting it to his forehead in one near-unbroken curve.

Irritated as he looked, at least he had heeded Charity, drawing in his titanic spirit. “Even when it was revealed that your heiress was among this group of Golds, we decided to let them in,” he grimaced in displeasure, revealing rows of stubby, triangular, hooked teeth. “Then, one of them activates a map of the facility, picks a direction, and runs, ignoring everyone in the vicinity, as though they knew they were there. This is clearly indicative of preparation. Even you cannot deny it. They are not mere vassals blind to the wider world.”

“The Blackflames were once our most powerful vassals,” Charity said, “That they possessed an Eye of the Deep should not be a surprise. That they would have some information on the facility as well should not stretch the limits of imagination. They act independently of our express orders, therefore we cannot claim responsibility for them.”

The Beast King, a grinning wolf of a man with wild, unkempt hair and an equally shaggy beard, laughed. He wore no sacred artist’s robes at all, just a wide-brimmed straw hat, currently resting in his lap, and a cheap set of loose-fitting white cotton trousers and matching shirt that could have belonged to any humble desert wanderer, let alone someone of his advancement. He wasn’t even wearing footwear. Among them all, he appeared least like a venerable Herald. “And so they send a crippled and an able-bodied Highgold, an aging sacred beast and two Lowgolds, all coached by Silver Heart herself. A rather pathetic attempt at sabotage, I would say. Definitely not the Heart Sage’s style.” The man thought he was helping, but in the process, he also made Charity sound inept. Not ideal, but what else could one expect from a king that only knew war and nothing else?

Xorrus pounced on that. “Then explain Akura Mercy’s presence.”

Charity replied levelly, “Mercy is on an expedition to explore the vassal states. Her actions are not representative of the family’s agenda.”

The Ninecloud Court’s Sage, Sha Jandar, cleared his throat before he spoke. “This is a rather egregious breach of trust, Silver Heart. And I am inclined to share in Wenye and Xorrus’ concern. That group is hiding something.” The Tourmaline Sage was a bald man with a neatly trimmed and contoured crimson beard cut in swirls that evoked fire, and the nine-colored eyes typical of the core Sha bloodline. Like most Sages, he looked young, like he was in his mid twenties. He was a master of royal madra and authority, and one of the world’s most preeminent soulsmiths. Those factors alone might have won Charity’s respect.

Unfortunately, Sha Jandar leaned into the fashion choices typical of the upper ranks of the Ninecloud Court, and went even further than them; he could be, accurately, considered the progenitor of the current generation of the Ninecloud Court’s gaudiest fashions and design choices. His sacred artist’s robes were spun out of royal-aspected liquid gemstone that couldn’t quite seem to decide which spectrum of the rainbow to settle on, a gaudy thing of woven rainbows that might have embarrassed a sacred peacock.

He was also considered an inveterate libertine, an irredeemable pursuer of any unmarried (and sufficiently highborn) Ladies in his vicinity, even his own students. In all, he was by far more vulgar than the typical Sage; even looking at him for long enough was mildly unpleasant to Charity’s own more reserved tastes.

“We are in the process of interrogating two of their companions,” Charity said, “Whatever they are hiding, we will discover it.” Very early into the interrogation, it had become eminently clear that neither of the two ‘Skysworn’ as they called themselves had any love for the people that had knocked them unconscious. As far as they knew, that hadn’t been those children, but some other unseen attacker. Her servants had not given them any new information, and were instead intent on extracting everything they knew about those children.

Charity had a headstart on one of them, however. 

He had lost his hair, and received a grievous injury that had disfigured him, but she recognized him anyway. Him and his Path. It was the same boy that had taken the last true treasure of the City of Broken Stars. And now he had come back for more.

Whatever he was doing associating himself with Mercy, she intended on finding out. But this could be an opportunity for the clan. Rarely had a mere Gold outside of the family ever taken up so much of her attention, but this one had gone from Jade to Highgold in under a year, in an aura-poor nation at the very edge of Akura territory.

“Then here is a proposal,” the Blood Sage said. He wore a stark white set of sacred arts robes, and on his face, two trails of red ran down his eyes like bloody tears, his Goldsign. He sat with his feet on the chair, rocking back and forth, raising up two fingers, “Two Lowgolds, two Highgolds,” he put down one finger, “One Truegold. We all send in that many, to counter Charity’s.”

The Tourmaline Sage grimaced. “I did not bring any more Golds than absolutely necessary. I only have Truegolds at my disposal.”

The Blood Sage hopped onto the table, and Charity remained the only person who didn’t grimace at the blatant foolishness. While crouching, he paced around the table, and said, “I don’t intend on sending any more Golds in. I, myself, am quite satisfied with what we have retrieved from the facility thus far. I’m only saying this because it seems like a logical solution. Take it or leave it, but I believe there is nothing left for me to gain while listening to you all bicker. As such, I shall take my leave.” It was just like the Blood Sage to sow chaos for its own sake, even when he stood to gain nothing from it. 

The Blood Sage let himself fall on his back, and just in time, a portal like a bloody pool appeared on the table. The blood madra spilled over the table as the Blood Sage disappeared, and Charity evaporated it into essence with a single wave of her hand. In all honesty, just having him sit for this meeting for ten minutes was ten minutes more of his presence than Charity had expected to begin with.

“The madman speaks the truth,” Wenye said, slapping the table emphatically, though not hard enough to destroy it. A rather measured reaction for a Herald. “The Akura empire has five additional players in the game. We must treat them as though they are not constrained by any rules. We send in five Golds of equivalent ranks, and they can do battle,” Wenye eyed her intently, baring his shark teeth. His dark blue eyes evoked the depth of the seas, and Charity wondered if he would spring to violence at any moment. “You will deny this proposal if you have any vested interest in their continued survival, which would in turn suggest guilt.”

Xorrus gave a serpentine grin, lips stretching widely, “I like this idea! Five Golds to match their five. No rules and no holds barred.”

“That’s three Golds for you,” Charity said sharply. “We already allowed your granddaughter two Lowgold servants who will aid her. Now you want to give her two more, on top of the three other Golds of higher ranking?”

“Charity is right,” the Beast King said, pouncing on any opportunity to embarrass Xorrus. “If this wild scheme cooked up by a literal madman is what we’re going with, then we should at least be consistent.”

“Yes, dragon,” Sha Jandar cut in. “Your outrage does not afford you special treatment. You are no more important than anyone else on this table.” Charity repressed a sigh of exhaustion.

Wenye’s spirit flared and Xorrus glared daggers at the Tourmaline Sage specifically, while he only returned a vindictive grin. “Bitterness does not become you, Jandar. One failed escapade should not render you in such a pathetic state.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. Before he could respond with some disgusting innuendo, Charity cut him off, “You get three Golds,” Charity decided, “Or hold your peace.”

Xorrus’ growl was now distinctly draconic. Her human eyes slitted into draconic pupils as her spirit flared, eyes flickering between all three humans sitting at the table, soulfire weaving to fuel a transformation.

Everyone else’s spirits flared as well, and it was all Charity could do to repress it in order to prevent her house from simply exploding.

Eventually, Xorrus simmered down. All the others followed. 

Even though it was more or less decided, Charity still weighed the pros and cons of the Blood Sage’s solution. Then, she looked to the Beast King intently. They had an alliance, and he would be obligated to honor it in some way. He sighed. “I can spare one Truegold and two Highgolds. I won’t risk my Lowgolds, however. They are not combatants.”

The Tourmaline Sage rolled his eyes. “I will not send one of my Truegolds into this death game completely alone with no rules to protect them from… the wildlife,” he gave an obvious sarcastic grin to Xorrus and Wenye. The latter ignored it, and the former growled again, though this time it was a human sound. “But I do expect answers, Silver Heart.” This Sage was a genuine liability for this meeting, even if he was ostensibly aligned against the beast factions. Such were the vagaries of world politics. 

“You will be the first to be elucidated, Tourmaline Sage,” Charity nodded. Her personal feelings aside, it was only good form to be on, at worst, neutral terms with other human factions. The Sage smiled in satisfaction, his eyes lingering on her a tad too long for comfort. Then she turned to the beasts. “Acceptable. On one condition. None of them are to be harmed, robbed or made to trade their winnings against their will once they exit the facility.” It was unlikely that they would escape with anything more valuable than some well water or natural treasures, but in case they did, they should be allowed to keep them in order to further the power of the Akura clan’s vassals.

That Mercy was among them was hardly as relevant. This was for the good of their Blackflame Empire.

Xorrus smiled viciously, and Wenye gave a satisfied nod.

“Then let us make the oath,” Charity said, casting her die, as always hoping that her decision was the one that would save the most human lives down the line.

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Major thanks to Coldbringer/SnowGN for beta-reading and extensive editing!