A servant led Shade into Vaidvėlis’s lair, a shadowy chamber hewn from dark stone and illuminated by flickering blue flames that hovered unnaturally in midair. The room exuded an aura of mysticism suffused with power. At its center rested a stone table, upon which an ancient map was unfurled, its surface meticulously marked with glowing runes. The map’s symbols pulsed faintly, as if alive, radiating the weight of centuries.
Shade stopped near the table, waiting as the servant retreated silently into the shadows. Moments later, Vaidvėlis appeared from an arched doorway at the far end of the chamber. His silver hair shimmered like liquid moonlight, and his white eyes glinted with quiet intensity. As he approached, his robes swayed lightly, the embroidered runes on his dark robes faintly echoing the patterns etched into the chamber walls..
“It was a fine victory,” Vaidvėlis began, his voice calm yet resonant. “The dungeon master's defenses were formidable, and the Legion’s strength exceeded expectations. Yet, your decision to strike early proved correct, you are a fine schemer. The Unholy Alliance, no the entirety of umbrae will feel the ripples of this for years to come.
Shade turned his gaze toward the mage, his expression unreadable. “Ripples are a start. But I didn’t fight this battle for ripples, I fought it for waves to flood the land.”
Vaidvėlis’s lips curved into a faint smile. “And waves you shall have. But waves cant be gotten by throwing a few pebbles and stones, Shade. To get such waves requires special powers, not mere coin and men in mass. Which brings us to our next move.”
He moved to the stone table, his long fingers gliding over the ancient map. The runes beneath his touch flared briefly, casting shifting shadows across the chamber. “Relics,” he intoned, his voice carrying a note of reverence. “Artifacts of power scattered across Breccia, forged in eras long past. Each one is a key to bending the tides of destiny. Some are buried in forgotten tombs, or wielded by great beings, others sealed within the dominions of rival factions. These are what I seek, these are what we need.”
Shade stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the map. The symbols were precise, glowing faintly with an ethereal energy. It was evident the ancient map was no ordinary artifact. His gaze lingered on the map, his mind calculating. “And you expect me to expend my forces and resources chasing treasures around the world for you?”
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Vaidvėlis didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved to a small recess in the wall, retrieving a pendant set with a milky, translucent gem resembling an eye. He returned to the table, holding it aloft letting the gem catch the flickering light. “This is the Seer’s Eye,” he said, his voice quiet but weighted with significance. “An artifact that allows its wielder to see through the eyes of anyone they wish, wherever they may be so long as they know them. A tool of unrivaled advantage for a machinator such as yourself.”
Shade’s normally impassive form betrayed a flicker of interest as he listened to the spiritmancer's words.
“I could grant this to you,” Vaidvėlis continued, his tone smooth, “but only if you commit to the greater purpose. With relics like this, you would not just react to your enemies’ moves—you would anticipate them, outmaneuver them at every turn, with this the rules of engagement will never be the same again. But these treasures must be hunted, and their gain will not come cheaply.”
Shade’s expression hardened again, his voice level. “Power is all well and good, but I won’t waste resources chasing fables. If I’m to commit my forces, there must be clear gains—territory, influence, and leverage at the end of it. Otherwise, I’ll keep what’s mine and let you chase relics on your own.”
The Spiritmancer’s smile deepened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “And you shall have all of that, for the relics lie in the hands of those who already stand in the way of your conquest. Consider the closest targets:
In the Eastern Wildlands, a circle of frost magi, disciples of Morozko, guard a relic of stillness, hidden in a remote glacial citadel.
In the Great Eastern Forest, a relic of the blight is concealed, its location shrouded by the dark mists.
Beneath the Breccian Divide lie countless treasures, but one of particular interest hidden in the deepest caverns: The orphic egg, the one I desire the most, yet understand the least.
In the north west in the Nebelinseln, there lies a dark relic, the Morrigan's veil.
The eastern Darklands are home to the Necromancy Cult of Hel, they already posses and use the relic of binding sorrow.
And in the western blighted swamps, a relic festers under the protection of the beast tamer clan and their monstrous abominations.”
As Vaidvėlis spoke, he placed the Seer’s Eye on the table, its gem pulsing faintly as though alive.
Shade studied the pendant for a long moment. He had dealt with alliances of convenience before and knew the risks, but the opportunity was undeniable. Finally, he met Vaidvėlis’s gaze. “I’ll do it—but on my terms. My forces will pursue these relics only where it serves my first goals. We’ll secure strongholds, cripple rivals, and ensure that no move is wasted.”
“Agreed,” Vaidvėlis said, his tone laced with mild satisfaction. “You will have the Seer’s Eye. Use it wisely—it is but a taste of what lies ahead.”
Shade picked up the amulet, its power already sparking ideas in his mind. The Spiritmancer might have his ambitions, but Shade would ensure they never outpaced his own.