Artificer Borus sat within the royal courtroom of clan Verdan, sipping from a glass of sweetened wine. His position oversaw the window that revealed the entirety of jade peak itself, from the market districts to the jade towers and even the lower districts themselves. Sighing to himself, he flicked his eyes to the stoic-looking figure that stood next to a large door, eyes trained on him, spear gripped firmly in her hands.
Lirien Verdan had the look of a cold killer, her Ethra cycling continuously as she drew from the ambient jade Ethra in the air around them. Calmly assessing her look, he strayed his eyes to the artful yet powerful and deadly runes that had been etched into the walls of the room around them, all geared towards the enhancement of jade Ethra in the area.
“How did a tiny clan like yours gain access to the services of one of the lofty arcanists?” he asked.
Lirien said nothing for the next few seconds before speaking.
“you’re the artificer, you tell me” She replied.
Borus gave a short tight-lipped smile.
“you’ll find out that the artificers and arcanists don’t see eye to eye most times” he responded.
“Too bad,” she said, ending the conversation.
Irritation grew in his chest but Borus wasn’t in the habit of destroying every single cultivator that looked down on him. Besides, he didn’t stay hidden so far by responding to every single slight towards him, he turned to his glass, staring through the clear container as he reclined on his chair. He had been kept waiting for half an hour, no doubt at the advice of Iphan himself, the upstart who had fashioned himself a small kingdom away from the prying eyes of the true powers of the technocrats.
Dropping the glass, he sighed, his one metal arm glowing with runes even as Lirien responded fluidly, Borus impressed. Jade Ethra flowed from her core to her spear like calm waters, the green energy brimming to life on her spear in a serpentine shape, Borus smiled as he snapped his fingers, metal clinking as they appeared from nowhere.
He decided to play her game, allowing it to take the shape of a spear as well, his running with lines of blue Ethra before it coalesced on its spear tip. The two stared at each other for a few seconds when the crushing power of a high lord came down on them, Lirien willingly fell to her knees, the large door opening and admitting the patriarch of the clan in.
Rowan Verdan, decked in twice folded Ethereon armor, his soulbound blade forged by Iphan at his waist and his aura leashed close to his body but still carrying the full weight of a high lord behind him as well. He seamlessly stepped into the room, his regal yet relaxed pose stating the fact that he didn’t consider him a worthy adversary, Borus wanted to laugh at that.
Artificers while able to refer to themselves as cultivators desisted from doing so, they left it for the battle crazed people of this part of the continent. They ranked themselves by tiers, tiers that explained their levels of proficiencies with Ethra and metal manipulation, and he was a master of mechanisms, the fourth of the five ranks of artificer advancement. He could disassemble the soulbound weapon in a few seconds, all he needed to do was to override the authority of Iphan on the weapon, shattering it from within.
And even if decided to truly fight, his homunculi army left back at the iron wolf forge could be here in less than a few minutes, leveling the entire structure to the ground, the large green jade rock that capped the building as well. Instead, he let the patriarch strut to the middle of the room, staring him down as a frail figure that walked on mechanical legs stepped through the doors as well.
Borus stared at his fellow artificer, watching as the servo whining of the joints of his limbs echoed quietly across the room.
“You look like a sight for sore eyes, Iphan” Borus said.
The frail yet obviously powerful artificer turned his gaze to Borus who hid his surprise at the true visage of Iphan well enough. Mechanical eyes that glowed stared back at him, a head sparse with hair and yet tiny glowing nubs stared at him the moment Iphan drew back his cowl.
“The sculptors?, really Iphan? Have you fallen so low?” Borus asked.
Iphan gave a small chuckle, raising one hand to point a finger at Borus.
“you’re one to talk, your metal limb is all but evidence” he replied.
“Have you grown dim-witted with the centuries? a true son of the cult sacrifices one valuable part, or have you forgotten that as well?” Borus challenged.
“And yet, you boldly wear forbidden runes on your arm, runes only to be found within the secret vaults of the archivists” Iphan replied.
“Enough, I will not discuss guild business with outsiders,” Borus said with an air of finality.
Iphan gave a hoarse laugh, Borus horrifyingly realizing that his entire throat had been remodeled in metal.
“You think me ignorant; the guild will never let one of its masters go, not unless a true tenet was broken” Iphan replied.
Borus watched as both the patriarch and lord of Verdan retracted their auras with shock, mentally rolling his eyes, they considered him a literal master in the cultivator’s terms. He cracked his neck, willing his Ethra to life within his core, cycling it and grabbing a hold of it in a tight leash.
“I will not be disgraced in my own home” Rowan’s voice thundered around them.
Borus watched the runes around the room light up, Rowan placing one hand on his blade as the sharpness of blade Ethra honed to the deadliness of a high ranker and then some. Borus also noted again just how close Rowan was to advancing to the rank of master, something Iphan must have noted as well.
Was that why they were keeping the affairs of the clan silent?, why they thought themselves invisible to the reach of the Heralds?, perhaps it was Borus’s jaded view of existence, alive when the empire had just begun to find its footing, even if he had been an initiate then. He had seen his fair share of cultivators come and go, and one thing he knew was that few cultivators made it to the top when they underestimated obviously powerful rankers.
Whatever was going on in Jade Peak, Borus was intrigued, especially what ripple effects would come after when the surge waxed to its strongest and then waned. Rowan Verdan flicked his hand, one of the neatly stacked furniture at the corner of the room flying towards him, an ornately designed chair he sat on calmly.
“Now that we’ve revealed our strengths, why don’t we get to the main issue?’ Rowan said.
Borus sat back down, calmly assessing Iphan whose construct limbs released a soft hiss of steam, the artificer sitting on a chair as well.
“Patriarch Rowan of clan Verdan, it is an honor to meet you,” Borus said.
Rowan stared at him for a few seconds before speaking.
“What about clan Verdan makes it so interesting for a master of constructs to come all the way from the technocracy?” Rowan replied
Borus gave a soft smile.
“The quiet” Borus replied.
Rowan’s eyes flashed with power, the patriarch calmly nodding.
“Decency dictates you introduce yourself to the leader of whatever place you find yourself,” Rowan said.
“Especially one who is on friendly terms with the Heralds” he added.
Borus smirked, tapping the armrest of his chair.
“You really think I’d come this far without the knowledge of the Heralds?” Borus asked.
“Yes, I do” Rowan replied.
Borus scratched his chin with a sigh.
“You feel it in the air, I believe you have bigger issues than me,” he said.
“What we want to know, is why you created a soulbound weapon for some disciple,” Iphan said.
“Unlike your artificer who considers his invention akin to that of a regent bestowing a gift on we lesser beings, I simply do it for the fun of things” Borus replied to Rowan.
“You lie,” Iphan said as Rowan raised a hand.
Sitting up straight and staring into Borus’s eyes, the patriarch spoke.
“What is it you’re after?” he asked.
“What makes you think I’m after something?” Borus asked calmly.
He turned his gaze to the daughter of the patriarch who calmly watched him.
“Everyone wants something, Lirien here wants to advance to highlord, something artificer Iphan here assures me is plausible with the surge” Rowan stated.
“Assuming she has the mettle to test herself against the tier 5 rifts further into the empire, by now the families of Talahar are gearing up for the truth surge itself” Borus replied.
Rowan stapled his fingers together.
“You present an unknown factor to my plans, artificer Borus, one I’m afraid I cannot overlook, especially in the light of the current situation of things,” he said.
“What that sounds to me, is that you consider the presence of one tiny disciple and my insignificant help towards him more of a threat than the empire itself” Borus replied.
Rowan gave a soft smile.
“The empire holds a tiny fraction of the continent, artificer Borus, not even as large as the enclaves of the Heralds themselves” Rowan stated.
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“Granted, there are a few thousand miles of land between here and Talahar itself, the capital of the empire is simply a figurehead ruled by a master, nothing more, nothing less” Rowan stated.
“Bold of you to reveal your plans to me, high lord Rowan” Borus noted.
“No, no plans, merely stating the truth” Rowan waved his hands dismissively.
“It was only a matter of time Borus,” Iphan said with his throat mechanized voice.
“This is one of the strongest surges we’ve ever encountered during our lifetime, the last one, centuries ago brought the Talahan clan and their empire to prominence, this one will redraw the lines of territories within the continent” he completed.
“You barely have two lords, one highlord, and an assortment of adepts,” Borus said with a frown.
“What do you hope to accomplish with that against the might of the empire’s armies?” he asked.
“Surely your isolation this far into the borders hasn’t given you an illusion of the true power of Adamath” Borus continued as Lirien’s gaze shifted to him.
“Adepts are servants, foot soldiers in battle within the empire itself, the noble families breed them by the hundreds, lords are merely captains and highlords are generals, what hope do you have against hundreds of lords and thousands of adepts?” he explained.
“The surge serves as a balance to Adamath Borus,” Iphan said.
“Oh, spare me the lecture,” Borus said, irritated.
“The surge this, the surge that, Adamath is home to untold trillions, Bloodfire alone home to billions, you think a massacre on this scale would change anything?” he asked.
“Unless you have some concrete plan to start producing lords and highlords by the dozens, then you best believe that the empire would turn this stretch of barely habitable land into a proper wasteland” Borus finished.
Rowan chewed on those words, Borus staring at him, would the patriarch reveal his strength?, show how close he had gotten to the stage of master?, knowing full well that the moment the clan head of the Talahan empire sensed the presence of another master unknown to him within the boundaries of his domain would come down hard on them.
“we’re beset at both sides, artificer Borus,” Rowan said.
“We?” Borus thought to himself with a chuckle.
“The wasteland king has been silent for too long; you know what that could mean” the patriarch continued.
Borus frowned.
“You think he’s advancing,” he said.
“Well, the Ethra within his mini kingdom of a wasteland is reaching the peak, bandits are shifting ever closer to my borders without any particular reason and the first creatures of the surge haven’t been seen,” Rowan said.
“Which means someone has been killing and harvesting them” Iphan stated.
“precisely” Rowan added.
“What do you think would happen if and when the king advances to the rank of master?” he asked.
“Then your city of Jade Peak and all the other clan cities around these parts would become nothing but an afterthought” Borus replied.
Rowan nodded as Lirien got up to pour him a glass of wine.
“The surge would make travel impossible, it’s hazardous as it is, rift creatures would run rampant, the native creatures of Adamath and these wastelands would suddenly leap in tiers and grades, the empire would have their hands occupied as it is, no help would be forthcoming” Rowan stated.
“You know all these, your point is?” Borus asked.
“That my clan will not be collateral damage in a battle between two powers, the empire, and the wasteland,” he said.
“The Heralds would step in, especially with the current discovery of the revenants on your doorsteps,” Borus said.
Rowan swallowed his wine calmly.
“You know quite a lot artificer Borus, that wasn’t public knowledge” Rowan stated.
Borus snorted.
“you’ll come to find that the only thing keeping that information from spreading is the simple fact that the surge is in progress and travel has been banned” Borus replied.
“Then again, with that now in play” he continued, pointing at the large tower-like structure that stood in the middle of the city.
The A.R.K. spire had brought a new method of cultivation for them, along with a new way of communication.
“It stands to think that it’s only a matter of time before the empire and by extension, the Heralds themselves hear of the revenants and the one you kept within your dungeons” Borus calmly replied as Lirien stiffened.
“They know of that already, the prisoner I mean, a team of Heralds should come retrieve him when the surge calms down after its first cycle” Rowan stated.
Borus nodded along.
“Debatable, you think they’d risk their lords during the period of calm between the first cycle and the next?” he asked.
“they’d have to if they want to know just what the revenants have planned for Bloodfire, the regent of forests was smart pushing them out just before the surge,” Iphan said.
Borus sighed.
“You need something from me” he stated.
Iphan snorted.
“Do not think you’re of such importance to us,” he said snidely.
Rowan raised one hand and Borus caught the flash of irritation in the eyes of Iphan, to be under the control of a mere highlord must be infuriating, but Borus sympathized with him albeit mockingly. Whatever the end goal of Iphan was, if it was related to the disgusting practices of the sculptor’s faction, then Rowan would rue the day he brought the artificer into his fold.
“Yes, we need you” Rowan stated.
“How versed are you in a rift duplicator?” he asked.
Borus froze, the wine glass in his hand held firmly as his face went through a myriad of expressions. First was confusion, the word familiar as his mind parsed through centuries of knowledge, then realization at what Rowan intended to do, laughter ending it. Borus restrained himself, disbelief in his eyes.
“Was this your idea Iphan?” he asked.
Rowan frowned.
“Do we have a problem, artificer Borus?” he asked.
Borus waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh no, not on my part, although I must applaud your brazen idea” he replied.
“it’s banned for a reason, unstable, dangerous” Borus warned.
“Artificer Iphan has assured me here that with the right procedures, and precautions, of course, it is possible,” Rowan said.
“Ha!” Borus exclaimed.
“The last time it was done, a peak master had to step in, do you understand the gravity of what you intend to do?” Borus asked again.
“Yes, we are aware, the question is, can you accomplish it?’ Rowan asked.
Borus shrugged.
“I’m an archivist, not that it means anything to you, but yes, I have knowledge on it, intimate ones that abominations such as Iphan here don’t have access to,” he said as Iphan seemed to swell with rage.
“Very well, what do you want in return?, apart from keeping you from the Heralds obviously,” Rowan asked.
“You still don’t believe I came here with their knowledge?” Borus asked.
Rowan gave a tight smile, Borus shrugged, he had tried his best.
“One thing, you keep your hands off the disciple,” he said with a coy smile.
“What about that insignificant child has an artificer been this protective?” Rowan asked.
Borus shrugged again.
“I’ve lived for a very long time patriarch Rowan, indulge an old man” he replied.
Rowan nodded.
“And the elder Joran?” Rowan asked.
“I could care less about him, I’d be careful with him though, if I were you, he seems like the slippery type,” Borus said.
“he’ll be handled when the time is right, he and all those who thought to cut away from the clan” Rowan answered dismissively.
“Black Rock,” Borus said.
“Something has to act as a buffer between us and the wasteland pending when we gather our strength” Rowan replied.
“What better buffer than the dark fists?” he completed.
**************************
Shame, anger, and rage swam through Zehra’s mind as she cycled ice Ethra from an ice Ethra crystal, the tier 4 crystal more than enough for her needs. Lord Akero sat at her side, the two aboard a floating construct that shot through the swampy forest and towards the middle of the rift itself, bypassing several rift creatures that came for them. The lord idly killed them, the peak tier 3 creatures dying in droves, their cores left behind.
Vaya sat on the construct as well, sweat beading her forehead as she cycled her water and air Ethra, a solemn quiet aboard the vessel. Tunde had stolen her ring, her void ring, filled with so many resources that she had literally drained her personal vaults of a substantial number of lumens. She gritted her teeth, frost mist pouring from her as she saw the lord crack open his eye in a warning.
It had been her fault, Thalas had warned her, the traitor had given her one piece of valuable advice and her curiosity had led her astray. She had paid heavily for it as well, now barrelling towards unknown danger without elixirs and pills of her own. She could make use of the lord’s reserves, she knew that, but all the same, shame filled her at the thought of begging. Her father had been right it seemed to prevent her from taking the really valuable elixirs given to her by the Frostleaf kingdom, and she dreaded returning to him with the evidence of his words.
She took a deep breath, gathered her Ethra again, and continued to cycle wordlessly, keeping to herself.
“we’re approaching the border of the swamp,” Akero said.
“Adept ke- “she said freezing, swallowing her rage.
She took a deep breath, stilling her heart, she was ice, the affinity of cold, logic, brutal yet calm logic, she would find him, she would make him pay, a swift action to keep him helpless then take him back to the clan, perhaps he’ll grace the ice garden she had started, there was always a first time for living breathing human sculptures after all.
“Adept Vaya,” she said.
Vaya turned to her, the adept now healed completely, disgraced by the blind tiger, it showed that while adepts could be of the same ranks, there would always be differences in strengths, irrespective of the tiers within their ranks.
"Prepare yourself, we draw ever closer to the rift core itself,” she said.
“I will lay my life down for you,” Vaya said as she bowed.
“Adepts Keto and Vasriq have done that, I need you to kill any obstacles on my path to lord rank” Zehra replied.
Vaya stiffened before nodding, sitting back up.
“The revenant lord draws ever closer, I drained him of a lot of his strength, but he infects the rift, creating undeath abominations of the creatures within it,” Akero said.
“Can you handle him while I advance?’ Zehra bluntly asked.
Akero nodded.
“Even with his hordes of revenants, I should be able to buy you enough time to advance, but you’re aware of what it takes to advance to lord, right?” Akero asked.
“Yes, the weight of Adamath, I know,” she said.
Akero nodded.
“Good, then we make sure we get that rift crystal, I will hold the guardian along with adept Vaya, this should have been a job for four, but we’ll make do,” Akero said.
“All for the rise of Acacia,” Zehra said.
“For the clan” Akero and Vaya replied.
*****************
Elyria walked through the deserted canyon, staring at the destruction wrought around as she, Rhyn, Shiro, and Sorin made their way into the distance.
“They were here, Tunde and the elder,” she said.
“How do you know that?” Shiro asked.
“Because I know well enough the marks of Tunde in battle,” Elyria said as she knelt on the ground, running her hand through the dust.
Shiro twirled his staff with a whistle, what madness held him?” he asked.
The destruction to the canyon looked like a monster had rampaged through it with wrath.
“The greater question, is what happened to both of them?” Sorin asked.
A flash of light came from the distance, Rhyn snapping his head towards that direction.
“The swamp,” he said.
The four of them raced towards it, the trace and flash of power they saw was unmistakably one they knew well enough. Rhyn dashed forward, his body imbued as he swung his blade, his attack cutting through the frail leaves to land on a tree branch, eyes wide. Elyria grounded to a stop, Shiro spinning his staff as he gathered wind as he landed, disciple ranked power running in his body. Elyria stared at the adept and his son, Jashed and Thalas.
An adept ranked Thalas.
She watched as he turned to them, his gaze cold.
“About time” Jashed groaned as he got to his feet, his clothes looking haggard.
“We greet the adept” Rhyn said as the rest bowed.
“where’s lord Alaric?” Jashed asked.
“Holding the exit for us, where’s adept Joran and Tunde?” Elyria blurted.
Something about them didn’t seem right.
“Betrayed us,” Thalas said softly.
Rhyn snapped his gaze to them silently.
“What do you mean Thalas?” he asked.
“Adept Thalas?” Thalas responded, eyes flashing.
Sorin narrowed her eyes, Elyria quietly cycling her Ethra, going through her options, would she have to face Thalas? she was sure she could handle him to an extent, but with the peak adept with him, it would go from a battle of strength to one of escape.
“Enough,” Jashed said.
All attention was drawn to him.
“Adepts Joran and Tunde have betrayed us for clan Acacia, the revenant lord gathers power and they all are heading for the rift core, but we can still win this race,” Jashed said.
“How?” Shiro asked softly.
“The revenant lord is hunting them, it’ll delay whatever plans they have, we need to head straight for the crystal itself,” Thalas said.
“You think you can take on its guardian yourself? An adept against a tier 4 rift guardian? a lord guardian?” Rhyn asked incredulously.
Elyria could hear the rage in Rhyn’s voice, he was wary and jealous of his power, and the balance of control in the clan had just drastically shifted towards the side of lord Lirien.
“I estimate that we’ll get close to them the moment they reach the crystal itself, we take advantage of their fight and we get the crystal, they both think we’re dead either way,” Jashed said.
“Sounds good to me,” Shiro said with a shrug.
“What say you, disciple Rhyn?” Thalas asked.
Rhyn said nothing, bowing at Jashed stiffly.
“Good, then we leave, and perhaps, along the way, we see items to take you all to the stage of adept, this rift has been benevolent,” Jashed said with a glazes smile.
Elyria watched as Jashed and Thalas led the way, Rhyn glancing at her, nodding shortly.
Be careful.
Sorin and Shiro followed, Elyria glancing around them before leaving as well, totally ignorant of the slowly sinking limb in the ground.