Toren Daen

I looked up at the towering fountain, tapping my foot as my eyes traced the intricate design. It displayed a hooded mage, their features obscured by their robes, pouring a beaker of liquid with each hand into a larger carafe. The water that flowed out of each beaker converged to make a single stream, which then circled back up to repeat the process.

The water was tinted a slight reddish color, and I could just barely sense mana flowing through the liquid as it filtered through the fountain.

Aedelgard was different than I expected. The terrain wasn’t as hilly as Fiachra, but it was far more busy. The scent of saltwater was always in the air, drifting in from the ocean currents. Steamboats–likely ripped straight from Arthur’s schematics–were docked at the deepwater harbor of the Vritra’s Maw Sea. Sailors were constantly milling about, shouting orders, and delivering goods en masse.

Sevren’s strange spellform had worked, changing the descension destination from the second layer of the Relictombs to Aedelgard’s descension portal. After all, I had a meeting I needed to attend.

Except as I waited in the courtyard of Bloodstone Elixir’s main branch, I found myself growing increasingly irritated. I watched the water flow through the fountain one more time, then turned back to the guard who had stalled me.

“Are you absolutely sure you sent word about my arrival?” I asked. I’d been milling about for around half an hour already, and the fully-armored sentinel had not shifted an inch.

“I am certain, my lord,” the man said in a monotone voice. The stick shoved up his ass must have been barbed or something. I couldn’t think of any other reason why he stayed so still. “I must repeat what I said earlier. Lady Shorn rarely accepts personal visits. Perhaps you should return another day.”

I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets. I’d told the man I had an appointment with Renea Shorn a while ago, and while he claimed to have sent the message on, his attitude made me doubt that statement.

The closed courtyard was quite beautiful. There were a dozen different flowering plants I didn’t recognize, each emitting a scent that mingled with the sea air in strange, cloying mixtures. The colors were simultaneously chaotic and ordered, like a dozen random brushes of paint coming together to form an image. While I’d been content to wait for a while at first in this peaceful garden, that patience was wearing thin.

I sat down on a nearby bench, settling in for what I expected to be a long wait. I closed my eyes, settling into a meditative state of mind. I reached into my core, caressing the Will nestled there; teasing it upward.

I didn’t descend into my First Phase, instead keeping just outside of that range. I allowed bits and pieces of knowledge and insight to flow into my mind, exercising extreme mental control to keep that stream steady and small. With what faculties weren’t occupied, I did my best to latch onto that insight. To keep it leashed in my mind so that it would not leave me a moment later.

I breathed in, feeling the mana in the atmosphere swirl toward me. I allowed myself to feel those eddies as I exhaled, the energy in the air flowing away in tune.

Lady Dawn wasn’t awake to help me with this process, but at this lower level, I didn’t need it. My bond had explained something crucial about Beast Wills in asuran culture.

The first step in mastering a Will was the assimilation phase, where you slowly dispersed mana throughout your body, allowing your muscles and bones to absorb it and strengthen in tune. This prepared you for the strain of a Beast Will.

Yet this was the barest step. Assimilation of the body was only the prerequisite. The greatest push forward was the assimilation of the mind.

I tried to draw understanding and insight from my Will, hoping to absorb the knowledge it granted me. This was the fundamental second stage of using a Will; the entire point of its existence. To understand what your ancestors taught, then add to it and pass it on further.

I lost track of time as I slowly pulled myself through the motions of mental assimilation, feeling the push and pull of the mana around me.

How different is water mana from fire? I asked myself. They each have their own rise and fall. Push and pull. Yin and Yang. Cold and Hot.

My mana flowed along my channels in warming currents. But something cut my concentration short. The guard’s lifeforce, which had been a static thump-thump-thump for as long as I’d heard it, jumped erratically. A sign of stress and anxiety that was further exemplified by the burst of nervous intent I felt from his mana.

I opened my eyes, exhaling steam.

Renea Shorn stood in front of me, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. My grip on the ambient mana faltered as my concentration fully broke, my Will retreating back into my core.

The guard had left his station, looking nervously between me and the leader of Bloodstone Elixirs.

“Lord Daen,” the woman said, leaning forward slightly. Her deep black hair shifted to expose more of her pale skin. “Every time I meet you, I am left with far more questions than answers, and it seems today is no different.”

I smiled slightly. In this garden of unending palettes, Renea Shorn stood out like a tear in space. She wore a conservative, black dress, though this one exposed more of her arms than the last. In this courtyard of color, her black-and-white ensemble drew my gaze like a magnet. Her eyes were rimmed with a deep eyeliner, which accentuated her shadowed style.

“The feeling is mutual,” I responded, standing up. “I will admit, I never thought you were a person who would enjoy flowers,” I said, casting an eye around us. “I find myself wanting to know why.”

The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow. “If you want to learn more about me, Lord Daen, you’ll have to work for it.” She turned to the guard, who suddenly looked very, very nervous. “Why was I not informed of Lord Daen’s arrival?”

“I, uh…” the guard stuttered. His face was covered by metal, but from how fast his heart was thumping, I was sure it would be colored crimson from shame. “I assumed he was another highborn lad looking to gain your favor again. It wasn’t my intent to–”

The look Renea gave the poor man was cold enough to freeze even my own heartfire. He curled in on himself, lowering his head in apparent guilt. I was reminded again how much this woman looked like the reaper.

“It’s fine,” I said with a bit of a sigh. “I didn’t exactly provide proof of our agreement beyond my word.”

Lady Shorn turned away from the guard, who gave me a grateful nod. “Fair enough. Though I think you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?” she said with a raised brow.

I cracked my neck. “I was prepared to wait a bit more. I have a feeling you wouldn’t leave me out to dry for so long.”

“You do, do you?” the woman asked, her cherry-red lips curling into a slight smile. She turned around with a swish of her dress. “Come along, Lord Daen. We have details to discuss.”

—

The headquarters of Bloodstone Elixirs was bustling with activity. Though Renea and I quickly ascended past the lower levels of her operations, I got glances at many of the employees bustling about with mana artifacts, papers, and more. When they caught sight of Lady Shorn, they stopped what they were doing to bow slightly in respect, or in the case of one pair who were carrying a heavy crate, simply nod in acknowledgment.

“Everyone here seems to know you,” I said, trailing behind the severe CEO. “And respect you as well.”

And it was true. Perhaps individually, it would’ve been difficult to dissect the passive effects these people had on the ambient mana. But as those effects compounded with mutual emotions, I was able to pick it out more accurately.

Indeed, what these people were expressing wasn’t fear. It was respect. Adoration. Awe.

“I have found that treating those beneath you with respect is the most surefire way to beget their own,” Renea said, not missing a step. A few eyes lingered on me within the office spaces as we passed. It probably wasn’t every day their boss personally escorted a stranger. “For maximum profits, it is wise to account for every variable.”

“You say that as if these people are merely another checkmark on your list,” I replied, amused.

“And you speak as if I think otherwise,” Lady Shorn said, turning her head to look at me slightly. Her onyx eyes glittered.

I did think otherwise. I’d seen Renea’s passion in the streets of Fiachra. Her passion and ideals had bled through this facade of ice in the face of Mardeth’s cruelty.

I raised a single brow. “I think you once told me I’m free to think what I will about your motives. I’m merely exercising that privilege.”

Renea did not grace my mild snark with a response aside from a roll of her eyes.

Gradually, we made our way to the top of the tall building. Lady Shorn pushed open a small door, revealing the room within.

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but what I saw defied all my expectations.

I walked in, turning my head to marvel at the room. The walls were dotted with paintings, each a splash of color that somehow melded with the others.

But the majority were of a very specific kind of scene. There weren’t abstract designs or personal portraits. There weren’t wonderful landscape pieces to add a hint of nature to the room.

I walked toward a gilded frame depicting a man on his knees, covered in blood, gore, and battle wounds. He stared blankly at the sky, the bodies of dozens around him coating the plains crimson. A spearpoint pierced the soldier’s arm. The detail was remarkable. I could pick out a drop of sweat that rolled down his nose.

The caption underneath read, “Too often we forget what we fight for and simply fight.”

“That piece was painted in the aftermath of the failure of the Redwater Initiative,” Lady Shorn said, standing by my side. I hadn’t sensed her move there. “It’s called The Kneeling Man. There was only one copy produced. It is one of my favorites in my collection.”

All the artwork around the room depicted gruesome battlefields. Mud, blood, and sweat were king. It was a brutal contrast to the hearty atmosphere just beyond these walls. “What was the Redwater Initiative?” I asked. I didn’t know enough about Alacryan history to comment on wars.

Renea turned away from the painting, strolling toward a large desk. She opened one of the compartments, retrieving a few items.

I recognized one of them as a Sovereign’s Quarrel board. It was a bit like chess, except the pieces you had were far more limited. Instead of a king, players needed to protect their sentry while sending forth casters, shields, and strikers to outmaneuver their opponents.

The other items were more surprising. A teapot, a couple of intricately painted porcelain cups, and a small packet of what I suspected were tea leaves.

“The Redwater Initiative was the penultimate battle of the war between Vechor and Sehz-Clar several decades ago,” Renea began. “It was the final push of the Sehz-Clarian infantry against the Vechorian flank on the banks of Aensgar’s mighty river,” the prim woman continued. Renea moved toward a couple of mirrored leather chairs, setting the contents of her arms onto a small table in between. “It was a catastrophic loss for our Dominion, and nearly lost us the war.”

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Renea retrieved a jug of clear, pristine water from a dimensional storage, then deftly poured some into the teapot. I sat in the opposing leather chair, wondering where this story went. “If I remember correctly, the last war between Vechor and Sehz-Clar–the Redfeud War, if I’m right–didn’t have a conclusive winner. Just two losers. What changed?”

Lady Shorn looked up at me, a measuring look on her face. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I cleared my throat. “History is probably my weakest subject,” I said. “The only tutor I had in noble arts was lacking in funds to purchase any textbooks, so you’ll have to enlighten me.”

Arlan had been a stern and well-meaning man, but he was also just as poor as Norgan and I.

Renea shrugged. “The armies of Vechor were primed to sail across the Vritra’s Maw Sea,” she said, turning toward one of the windows in the room. It provided a splendid view of the ocean beyond. “But the newly appointed Scythe Seris challenged Scythe Kelagon to single combat to turn the tides. Being the brash and brutish man he was, Scythe Kelagon accepted. He lost. Completely and utterly. And for a time, there was no replacement worthy of the title of Scythe of Vechor, which utterly demolished their war machine. Afterward, the Victoriad was instituted as a way to keep Scythes from butchering each other on battlefields.” The pale woman held the teapot out to me. “Would you mind, Toren?”

I hummed, taking the teapot from her with a pulse of psychokinesis. I flexed my mana, lighting a fire underneath the pot and leaving it to hover in the air.

Renea looked at the floating teapot with a magical flame underneath with an approving twist of her lips. “Perhaps I should have lobbied harder for you to work for me, Toren. Your talents are very useful.”

I snorted. “I think I can do better in my career than being a water boiler full-time.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Renea said loftily. “You’d be working directly under me. It’s quite difficult to surpass that station.”

Arrogant, I thought. Or confident?

I leaned back in the leather seat, crossing one leg over the other. “I’d argue working with you, Renea, is a greater station than working for you, regardless of what I’d be doing. Speaking of which, I think it’s about time we talked about how this agreement of ours is going to play out.”

Lady Shorn began to set up the Sovereign’s Quarrel board. Her slim, dainty hands put piece after piece down on the intricately etched playing field, setting it up with the ease of practice. “We will. But we have more than enough time to play a game beforehand, don’t we?”

I leaned forward, inspecting the board. The truth was, I had little confidence in winning a game of what was essentially chess against Renea. I’d seen the measures she set in place with Karsien, slowly building him up to take down her competitors. And the advances she'd made toward recruiting me were masterful. If I were in any other circumstance, they would have sealed a new hire without a sweat.

I looked from the Sovereign’s Quarrel board to the brutal paintings all around us. There was a strange kind of beauty in them despite their grim depictions. But at their core, they showed the ugliness of war. Of us versus them. Of fighting your enemy without care for the consequences.

Renea’s onyx eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t decipher as I made a slow inspection of the room.

“Do you still view me as an adversary to conquer?” I asked honestly, sparing a glance at the one-on-one board between us. “I personally thought we were past that.”

Lady Shorn chuckled lightly, the sound of her demure laughter echoing through the still room. I realized after a moment I’d never heard her laugh before. “We are, Toren. You are an ally now. But I need to know my allies as much as I do my enemies. So I’ll learn how you think in one of the best ways I know.”

As a fighter learns about their opponent in the clash between blades, I acknowledged internally, Or you see a flash of a person’s truest self as they face their end.

My enhanced hearing picked up the sound of water bubbles popping. Slowly, I allowed the nearby pot to hover back to Renea. She gave me a raised brow as it settled down in front of her. With a deft hand, she handed me one of the porcelain cups. A strainer with ground, red leaves sat atop the rim.

Lady Shorn leaned forward over the table, her navy-streaked black hair falling in tresses along her shoulders and chest. Her perfume was something floral, though different from all the flowers planted below. It was utterly distinct. She slowly poured boiling-hot water into the teacup, then proceeded to do the same for her own.

“Thank you,” I said, swirling the tea slightly to disperse the leaves. “What type of tea is this?” I asked, genuinely curious. I could swear I felt some vague mana fluctuations from the leaves in the strainer, which was beginning to taint the clear water a silky red. “I sense some mana from it, but it’s… murky. Indistinct.”

“Your senses are sharp,” Renea complimented. “Better than most.”

I looked at the raven-haired CEO. Despite my elevation to silver core, I still could not pierce her cloaking artifact. Either it was extremely well made, or she was far stronger than I was.

The latter is nigh impossible, I thought logically. Where did she get a cloaking artifact that can even suppress her heartfire from my ears, I wonder? Such a thing would be extremely useful. I’ve been able to suppress my asuran mana signature with relative ease, but once I start unleashing my Phoenix Will, that becomes more difficult. With an artifact like hers, it would become a nonissue.

“Not enough to detect your own mana, though,” I said. “One day I’ll be powerful enough to do so.”

“I invite you to try,” the woman said, resting a finger on one of her striker pieces. “Though to answer your first question, I’ll need to tell you another story. Are you free to hear, or are you still impatient to talk business alone?” she asked with a hint of a teasing tone.

I huffed through my nose. “I think I can wait a while for that,” I said amiably. And I did enjoy hearing the woman’s voice. It was smooth and measured in a way that made me feel grounded. “You were saying?”

Renea moved her striker forward, taking what I assumed was an aggressive opening move as she shifted it up several spaces. “It is rumored that a battle between many great asuran warriors ended at the headwaters of the Redwater River,” she said, brushing her finger over the intricately carved pieces. “Thousands of lessers died, their cries lost to the ages. The land was rent apart as great powers clashed. And eventually, one inevitably fell.” Her eyes flicked up to me. “Your move, Toren.”

I scrutinized the board, taking stock of my options. The strikers were best at taking pieces, but they could be stalled by the shields. The casters could move in more complex directions–namely, anywhere within five spaces–but once a striker piece got in close, casters had very little defense to protect from being captured. And the sentry at the back could barely move at all.

After a minute to contemplate, I hesitantly moved one of my shield pieces forward, blocking off Renea’s advance. I determined I was going to play more cautiously. I was new to this game, and while I’d played it before, I was far from an expert. From my minimal experience in chess, I knew one of the most important things I could do was get as many of my pieces in play as I could safely manage.

To win, I either needed to capture her sentry or move my own sentry to her hold. The latter was considered a true win, and far more impressive.

Renea responded by shifting one of her casters to the side, opening up her pieces. “It is said that in the aftermath of this great clash, the land was so scarred by the enormity of their battle that even the soul of the earth bled in empathy.”

I shifted a caster to threaten one of Renea’s front-facing strikers. “And does the land bleed?”

Renea moved another striker, deftly shifting her own piece past my rudimentary defenses. I furrowed my brow. “To an effect. The river is a deep crimson color and is saturated with mana. None can say except the Sovereigns themselves what truly happened, but the waters are certainly unique across Alacrya.”

I crossed my arms, staring at the board for a while, trying to figure out another move to make. Renea was threatening the leftward flank of my sentry with one of her strikers, which was likely bait to try and move one of my forward-facing shields to intercept in sacrifice. Eventually, I decided to put a striker of my own in play, a knife pointed at one of her own rear-guards.

Lady Shorn smiled, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I felt like I’d made a mistake somewhere, but as I rescanned the board, I couldn’t see where.

Renea slowly moved a caster to the side, opening up a straight path for another of her strikers to threaten my western flank. And now I didn’t have many options to shore up that weakness. “But the tea leaves nurtured with water from the Redwater’s source turn a crimson color as they absorb the water and are imbued with enhanced properties. They make a wonderful, lasting taste that is savory and slightly sweet, though they are poisonous to any who are not strengthened by mana.”

I stared at the board, trying to think of a way out. I could sacrifice one of my shield pieces to eliminate both Renea’s casters, but that would leave my eastern flank exposed. I looked down at the bottom of my board. My sentry could shift to the side instead. For a few turns it would be more open, but I wouldn’t need to sacrifice a piece to secure its safety.

With a careful hand, I shifted my sentry to the side. This would hopefully change Renea’s angle of attack to something else.

Before making her next move, Renea looked toward her tea. A few minutes had passed, and the woman seemed to deem this enough time to let her beverage steep. With a careful hand, she removed the strainer, setting it off to the side. Then she raised the steaming cup of reddish liquid to her crimson lips, taking a savoring sip of the drink. Her eyes fluttered closed in an expression of bliss.

“I think I’ve gotten your measure, Toren,” she said, cradling her hot cup with two hands.

I followed suit, removing the strainer and giving the tea a sip. I pulled back, feeling a flash of surprise at the taste. It was slightly sweet, though I caught metallic hints here and there in the aftertaste. I hadn’t expected to actually like the taste: after all, I was far more of a coffee person. But I found the drink to be utterly unique. “And what do you think you’ve learned about me?” I asked, still staring at the reddish tea in my hands. I could feel the mana within the drink settling into my stomach, then disperse across my body in a relaxing sensation. I could feel my own mana reacting with something inside, protecting me from potential poison.

She told me the truth about the tea, I thought. Why am I surprised by that?

“You hesitate to sacrifice the pieces you have available,” Renea said, making a single move with one of her rear shields. I exhaled, my eyes widening as I took in the new board state. A striker near the rear of Lady Shorn’s board had been opened up to attack the exact space I’d moved my sentry to.

She’d predicted my move exactly.

I took a gulp of my tea, feeling the near-boiling beverage trail down my throat. With the level of mana in my body, it couldn’t hurt me at all, but I used that warmth to center myself.

“You could have easily avoided this exact scenario had you sacrificed your shield instead. But though I know you saw the option, you took the chance at moving your most important piece to the side instead, forgoing the difficult decision of sacrifice.” Renea sipped at her tea, then licked her lips slowly. “And now you struggle further because the only options you have involve that sacrifice.”

I looked up at the demure owner of Bloodstone Elixirs. There was a deeper tinge of red around her lips from the tea she’d been drinking. I almost imagined it could have been blood.

Despite the warmth in my gut from the tea, I felt a bit of adrenaline course through my veins. This had become its own kind of battle, even if we didn’t use swords or magic.

I looked back at my board, hesitating for several minutes. But no matter what scenario I tried in my head, it all came back to the same conclusion. Renea was correct. Sacrifice was inevitable.

Finally, I shifted one of my shields to cover my sentry’s exposed position.

As it became clear that Renea would inevitably win this board game, I shifted my aim from winning to bleeding her pieces for every victory they took. I tried to make each sacrifice as meaningful as possible; reaping more damage than they took. As the minutes wore on, Lady Shorn gradually adapted to my own tactics, masterfully circumventing me and getting closer to inevitable victory.

I stared, stunned, at the end result of our little mental duel. My sentry was cornered near the edge of the board, almost entirely surrounded. Next turn, it would inevitably be taken.

Except for the fact that, somehow, Renea’s own sentry had managed to entirely cross the board, landing it solidly in my hold.

A true win for the enigmatic owner of Bloodstone Elixirs.

I narrowed my eyes at Renea. “You toyed with me,” I half-accused. “That wasn’t very polite.”

Lady Shorn reached a hand toward her tea. When she noticed it was no longer hot, however, she reluctantly set it back down. She sighed in disappointment. “Perhaps. But this has been enlightening, has it not? I have a much better idea of how I need to work with you now.”

I leaned back into my chair, feeling a bit tired from the back-and-forth I’d had with this mercilessly clever woman. “I think I can say the same,” I said.

Renea leaned forward slightly. “Oh? And what do you think you’ve discovered?”

“Well,” I started, “You told me I’d have to work to understand you,” I said a bit haughtily. “And I think I’ve put in a bit of work.”

Lady Shorn folded her hands over her lap, tilting her head. Her earrings–both a striking silver–flashed in the low light. “I’m curious what you think of me, Toren.”

I raised my hand. “Well, for one,” I said, lowering a finger for each point, “You very much enjoy a good mental spar. Two, you are invested in history. Three, you like to pretend like you’re not an idealist. And four…” I said, trailing off. I flared my mana, engaging my telekinetic emblem to latch onto Lady Shorn’s lukewarm tea. She tracked it with her onyx pupils as it floated over to me, watching as the delicate porcelain settled into my grip.

Once again, I called on the fire mana in the air. With a bare effort of will, I imbued the tea with a helpful measure of warmth. After several seconds, it began to steam again.

I swirled the cup, looking at the contents. Then I raised it to my lips, taking a measured sip. Yeah, it was warm enough. Renea watched me with something akin to amusement on her face, her eyes shifting amidst the vapor rising from her tea. Gently, I handed the steaming brew back to the pale woman. She took it from me, her hands brushing mine for a moment too long.

“Fourth,” I continued, “Is that you like your tea hot, Renea.”

Renea smiled. For the first time since I’d met her, her lips stretched fully across her face, showing teeth whiter than her skin. It was a predatory expression. “You learn quickly, Toren,” she said, taking another sip herself. “But I think it’s time we talked about how you’re going to display your music.”