Chapter Eleven: A matter of course

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Awash like blur, I slipped past the soliciting ire. Time, a frame of reference laid around me the air, feeling of clothes rubbing against skin. Sole of my boots muck the waste slick with slime, the goddamn-- Rats scurrying all which way, infesting and feasting atop my tower. Constructs built not in a day, but years, decades. More of work. Entrenched piping, sewage all the shit flowed down cementing this encroachment. Mage spire's, pointing at edges of sight erected outer confines forming a perimeter of eyes, leeching no doubt my creation. Glistening aurora like beams swayed in the wind overhead buildings, an unknown phenomenon to layer the oppressive fog that was it all.

The budding sore mark of this city, Freywyn was blight enough, bleeding dry my make; some deluded fool praying on me from upon heavens reign laughing at this offense. No, it was truth more than I know- Three celestial moons, two more than there should. So I focused, the task at hand, fantasizing was all well' but till I have hands around the fool's neck. Due my tower under it's proper lord, find where the hell I am. Neither can I delude myself from Sarieth, those who'll impede.

Not till then will I rest.

...

'What becomes of me, is this death?' Asriel's voice prodded one existential question after another, the same lamenting one vaguely understands but wishes to not realize, the death of the body had already occurred. All that remained was footwork, an afterimage of what was. Turns out the belongings of grave robber had little worth, much any keen observer would surmise that's what a teller, pawn artist would tell you, they'd be right of course. Ceron rummaged through the waist satchel, they' would not consider the alternative.

The prospect of the often overlooked was, the numerous usage mundane provided especially concerning, the most abundant one's own blood. To ritual sacrifice, offerings to a demon, a witch birthday celebration or simply the most cost effective supply to activate runes. Some small coin, brass wire a tinge of blood and half the purple crystal' would provide some security in the unknown. Rough and incomplete, the carvings no doubt crude, the cleaver no precision tool. But the slight change the pull at Ceron's fingers swayed his compounding doubts, rune alit the crystal's surface, surged with the brief trickle of that a water spout; this was his world. No matter how the surroundings differ, runes were tied to the very essence of a world's law, the oldest formation of magical representation.

A rune of force did not fair well stuck. More so when bound within insulating brass wire, the current inert crystal would burn alive at the drop of blood forcing upon the confines of it's chamber and in theory fragment to shards the tangled up wire and coin serving as tiny arrows, puncturing those too close. There was enough for only three, while the crystal was deluded, much discerned from color and opacity alone, Ceron had still a tiny piece left it wasn't right to have all your tools disposable. Despite how average they may be.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Grimacing Ceron could feel it, intuitively he didn't need to scour the innerworkings of this body' feeling no sensitivity to ambient mana. Likely cause' The body was mana retardant. A fact that contradicted what Ceron held, a letter of enrollment. To be specific, a chance dictated by results of an annual selection process as the words phrased, mixed amongst unknown symbols and odd wording. 'Asriel Elrad, son of a former Sorcerer's Knight Nicholas Elrad, unassigned.' Ceron mouthed the words as a flash of images sided his mind- 'Whoever, whatever you are-- You don't own my body. Mine and mine alone.' With anguished cry Asriel's voice pounded, with more say than deceased should.

Ceron whipped his head back, eyes adrift toward a flickering stormcloud, lighting but hairlines on horizon's edge tickling a mountainscape. Dull pain not withheld, the rush of memory pieced together by tattered cloth; "Your intent released me, those who gutted you now lie in ash what tell me, what do you expect to do. Fleeting as you are, this body is no wagon to hide. All I can offer as payment is peace of mind. Ease not death's embrace, but worries laid in the waking world." Ceron spoke in calm tones non lavished with belittle or arrogance of way' A debt was to be paid, if not just for a matter of pride.

Duality of this vessel, a prison and release for one. Stirs of emotion not Ceron's own conflicted, tempting to sway thought an intrusive force; a naive one. 'Liar! Give me my--' Ignoring the barking in his head Ceron sighed, he had little time, little patience seldom found for this. "More taut than chain, rope your word is binding actions define us all- Make note of the decisions that led here Asriel. If you hadn't the guts to own to it, the completion of our contract should have died' right there, pleasuring that buffoon with your corpse open sideways.

Asriel scoffed 'What of me? Supposed to wallow, trapped in my own skin?'

...

Yes.

Why did words hung in Ceron's throat? A truth he'd say any other day, reasons even unbeknownst to himself- Still, drifting off to the abyss, void of afterlife would be sweet release than becoming fragments of distorted mind. It was a cruel fate but it be damned, Ceron never believed in the handwashers of "fate" deriving coincidence, hardwork of others to fact. Time never stops neither for one or another, a fate of drowning in a flood and making it to the boat were both the same.

'As I said, a cup can only hold so much before it spills. One mind and body the dominant force will erase any other for sake of stability. My will is stronger, little by little you'll be gone something unrecognizable to yourself like sugar at the bottom slowly dissolved into water... Powerless within your own body final moments by whims of whatever I choose.' Ceron kept stride with confidence, the puzzle work of Freywyn's back streets a chore.

'But- "But' Ceron cut Asriel off, as he audibly spoke a duo of passing children whom stared with confused looks' You awakened me someone often known for my magnanimous gestures... Too much? Well, you'd better keep a sense of humor it'll keep you human. I wont retire this body, but neither will you reclaim it Asriel.

'Then.. What of your plan.' ..

"Not a plan, more a mutual benefit, make sense of these galleries in my mind,

I will stop your disintegration."

Gusts of sideways wind, splashing rainwater Ceron stopped feet away from the main street, a flow of disbelief, almost incredulous even-- Past the black plumes gushing from horseless carriages, intertwining cogs and gears jolting about a Torkan stood. Wearing a symbol Ceron's legion.

...

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