Toren Daen

I groaned slightly as I awoke in bed. I rubbed my forehead, furrowing my brows as a slow pulsing headache pressed against the backs of my eyes.

I immediately wanted to sink back into my bed. It was so warm; so soft. There wasn’t that irritating sunlight out and about.

The events of last night slowly dragged themselves to the forefront of my mind. How I slowly nodded off during Darrin’s story. And I hadn’t drunk any water or eaten any food with my magically enhanced alcohol. And this body had never indulged in a drop of booze before in its life.

Crap.

“I wasn’t even that drunk,” I said with irritation as I rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a dull thump. “Ow.”

I wallowed there in my blankets, every now and then taking in new details about the room. It seemed Darrin had rented me a bed in the Shimmerken’s Hoard. It was a cozy little place, if spartan. A simple bedstand was next to my little bed, and the room was small. I spotted a door leading to what I suspected was a bathroom.

The Unseen World washed over my vision, revealing a very disappointed phoenix looking down at me from above. “I advised against this course of action,” she said. “And now you suffer for it.”

I groaned again, rolling to my hands and knees. I’d need to make myself presentable before I went downstairs. “For all your magic enhancements, this world has to have some sort of hangover cure,” I moaned, slowly pulling myself to my feet. “It's got to.”

“Our asuran bodies are more than powerful enough to banish ‘hangovers,’ as your races call them. After nights of revelry in Epheotus, our Clans have never needed to soothe such pains,” the phoenix replied.

Lucky bastards and their improved physiques. But my bond’s words made me pause as I hauled myself up. “Asura have parties?” I asked, somewhat incredulous.

“Of course we did,” the phoenix replied, sounding almost affronted. “Lifespans stretching toward infinity does not negate the desire for short bouts of enjoyment.”

I remembered the aftermath of college parties in my previous world. What kind of cleanup would deities have to do? “How did the continent handle that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The phoenix appeared to flush, something that gave me pause. “Clan Aerind hosted the grandest of gatherings. Hundreds of leagues away from our populous centers.”

Ah, I thought, understanding the implications. They don’t clean up.

Honestly, that wasn’t too far off from my previous life either.

There was a quiet silence as I finally got to my feet, one that was finally broken by my Bond shaking her feathered head. “You are a troublesome bundle of human desires, Contractor,” she said, trailing behind me as I lethargically brushed my teeth in the attached bathroom.

I spit out my toothpaste. Really, it was a common mixture of baking soda, charcoal, and a bit of mint for freshening the breath. Not even a paste. “Don’t put it that way. I think I’m growing on you,” I said with a weary smirk as I washed the mix down the sink.

“You have burdened me with caring for your wellbeing,” the phoenix replied primly. “That you do not make it easy does not endear me to you.”

I rolled my eyes, moving some mana from my core to them. It helped dull the pain somewhat. “That's an interesting way to say you were worried about me,” I said, withdrawing a brush from my dimension ring and doing a once-over on my hair, which was starting to grow out. I would have to tie it back into a tail eventually.

The phoenix narrowed her fiery eyes, meeting my own in the mirror. I smirked slightly.

“You have a troublesome habit of putting yourself in dangerous situations, Contractor,” she said. “Somebody needs to worry for you since you clearly do not do enough of it for yourself.”

“Thank you,” I said, a bit of my teasing tone evaporating. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

The asura raised a hesitant hand, resting it on my shoulder as I stared into my own eyes in the mirror. They were the same hazel of my previous life, but there was a tiredness there that wasn’t present before. They’d seen more than they ever wanted to. The asura’s hand was warm, even through my clothes.

“If you could face this world without empathy and pain,” the phoenix said after a moment, “I would not have Bonded myself to you.”

—

Hofal was waiting for me when I finally trudged down the stairs, lounging in a corner. The Unblooded Party was there too, chatting away with the retired shield.

Darrin noticed me trudging down the steps first. “And here he is now!” he said, smiling his familiar jaunty grin. “How are you faring? Better than our sentry, I hope?”

Alandra was curled up on one of the booth seats, her face buried into the leather. “Stop,” she groaned. “Stop thinking so loud. It hurts.”

Yeah, she had been far more intoxicated than I was last night. I winced as I imagined a sliver of her hangover woes.

Are you sure you don’t have hangover cures? I asked mentally.

“I know of no such tonic,” the phoenix replied, a hint of amusement tracing over our bond.

“I’m doing better than her,” I said honestly, lowering my voice so I didn’t aggravate her headache even more. “Thanks for getting me a room.”

Jared sat nearby, for once not goading the woman with his regular taunts. Despite the copious amounts of cider he’d consumed, he looked none the worse for wear. “No problem, kid. Though I hoped you would’ve drunk more. It would’ve been funny seeing you try and levitate things while drunk. I had a bet going with a few other mages whether your spells would wobble in time with your steps, but you never drank enough!”

I glared at the man. “You had a betting pool based on how I’d act when drunk?”

He shrugged, his one eye glimmering with mischief. “I failed this time, kid, but I’ll get you back here one day. We’ll get that answer, and I’ll get my money!”

Darrin laughed lightly, but cut off as Alandra groaned from the noise. “Yeah. We’re going to go sell our accolades soon, and I’ll wire what we agreed on to you after.”

I nodded. “I’m planning on going back to Fiachra for a couple of days before going on another ascent,” I said. “It’s also almost time for the annual bestowment ceremony in Fiachra. It's my last chance to attend before I reach my majority.”

Darrin nodded. “I think we’ll take a break ourselves. I’ve been thinking of retiring for a while now to my estate out in Sehz-Clar. If you ever want to visit, my door is always open.”

I nodded, exchanging a few more words with the Unblooded party before leaving the Shimmerken’s Hoard with Hofal. The man hadn’t drunk anything last night, so his steps were just as sure as ever.

Our trip out of the Relictombs was uneventful. Part of me was worried I’d suddenly be accosted by a patrol of guards, whatever Alandra had said to that strange ascender last night causing a stir.

But logically, that was extremely unlikely. I couldn’t let myself grow paranoid, or else I’d never be able to do anything without second-guessing my every move and every look a person gave me.

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When I stepped out of the Relictombs portal in Fiachra, the temperature change immediately struck me. It was below freezing, and I hastily funneled mana from my core to warm my body. My breath misted on the air as Hofal and I exited the Fiachra Ascender’s Association.

I immediately sensed several presences focusing on me. Familiar presences.

“Hofal,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead, “Go on ahead a ways. I’ll meet you at the Cistern.”

He gave me an odd look, hearing something in my tone, but the man thankfully trusted my judgment. “Watch yourself, Toren Daen,” he said. “Call for me if you need my help.”

I nodded as Hofal strode toward a stall, pretending to be checking out the wares. I leaned against a nearby wall, closing my eyes for a moment and gathering my breath.

“I thought I told you I’d leave your bodies to float down the canals if you tried to follow me again,” I said in a whisper. The man a few meters away from me, however, dressed in casual clothes and looking for all the world like a normal pedestrian, heard it as if my lips were next to his ears.

To his credit, he barely reacted. He must have sensed my attention on him and his nearby compatriots. This was the same striker who had tried to follow me into the canal tunnels a few days ago. He had mossy green hair that hung around his face like reeds.

The man was silent for several seconds. “Then we should be grateful we were not following you,” he settled on. His voice, quiet though it was, was carried to me by eddies of sound magic. This spell I was maintaining was more costly and mana-intensive than my template spells, but creating a conduit between us with sound mana was relatively simple.

And he was right. The man hadn’t followed me, merely been waiting outside the Ascender’s Association. “True enough,” I said, but he heard my annoyance. “What does Renea Shorn want with me now?”

That provoked more of a reaction than my surprise whispers. He turned toward me subtly, then averted his gaze. “My employers have never named themselves,” he said. “Why do you assume it is this ‘Renea Shorn?’”

“It was a simple deduction,” I replied shortly. After breaking the enchantments set on my new weapons, I expected some sort of investigation from Bloodstone Elixirs. And none had displayed quite the same level of knowledge about me and my habits as Renea Shorn. “Why were you waiting for me?”

The man sighed slightly. “The Joans’ backers have begun to move,” he whispered. “They take up residence in East Fiachra, reestablishing a power base.”

My body went cold. I remembered the mage who had shoved me to the ground through his killing intent alone. That King’s Force may have paled in comparison to Lady Dawn’s, but such a thing made an impression. And Mardeth’s eyes… one empty, the other conniving… “The Doctrination is setting up in East Fiachra?” I asked, feeling the weight of that knowledge. The Rats wouldn’t be safe. I wasn’t sure the common people would be safe.

“So you do know the threat you face?” the man said. “Good. Mardeth is a dangerous mage. You cannot fight him on your lonesome as you did the Joans.”

I ground my teeth. “I will take your advice in the spirit it was given, and dismiss the implications it holds.” I felt familiar anger rise. I wasn’t as weak as I was when I first came to this world.

“You don’t understand, Toren Daen. He is a crafty snake, sinking his fangs into all that he touches. Bloodstone Elixirs has danced a deadly waltz with this mage for years, and he still lives to tell the tale. And he has already taken measures to cripple your advancement in magic.”

“How?” I asked. The mossy-haired man was silent for a while. For too long. “Tell me,” I said, restraining my tone more.

“He has declared that you will not receive a rune at the upcoming Bestowal Ceremony in East Fiachra,” the man said slowly. “He has already subsumed the vicars who manage the bestowals. They will not grant you more magic.”

That revelation took the breath from my lungs. Most Bestowal Ceremonies were accomplished by the Doctrination because the cultural understanding was that the Vritra granted us ‘lessers’ magic. And so the vicars acted as a stand-in for the Sovereigns themselves, bestowing runes and spellforms upon diligent mortals. But if somebody could control the vicars?

They would never get another rune.

“Don’t follow me,” I said to the mossy-haired striker, trying to keep my anger restrained as I pushed off the wall. I approached Hofal, stalking past him as I tried to grapple with this revelation. I’d been planning to attend the annual East Fiachra Bestowal Ceremony on the New Year, only a couple of days away.

I would have to double-check this spy’s information with Wade. I couldn’t implicitly trust everything he told me, but it felt plausible. A mage who was registered to a certain city, like I was to Fiachra, could only attend bestowals in that city. It kept the distribution of magic controlled and regulated.

I wouldn’t be able to go to Aedelgard and just get my bestowal there. I wouldn’t be able to try and weasel my way into West Fiachra’s bestowals, either. This Mardeth was a dangerous mage, in more ways than one.

“Hofal,” I ground out, “Who is Mardeth, exactly?”

The shield stopped in his tracks, his eyes watching me unreadably. “That man is dangerous, Toren. You shouldn’t try to go after him.”

“I’m not,” I said, not turning around. “He is going after us. Blood Joan had powerful backers.”

The shield blanched, then nearly tripped on his own two feet. “What?” he said, his breath coming up a bit short. “Mardeth is after us? That’s the worst possible thing that could’ve happened!”

“Why?” I asked, finally turning to look at my friend fully. His face was white as a ghost.

“Mardeth is from Etril. He’s been a vicar for the Doctrination for decades, but everyone expected him to challenge Scythe Melzri’s Retainer a year ago for their position at that year’s Victoriad. When the time came, he openly forfeited his match, yielding to the mage who would become Retainer Mawar. But that’s the power he has, Toren. He’s out of our league.”

I thought I vaguely remembered hearing about that incident. The lead contender for Scythe Melzri’s Retainer had publicly withdrawn, stating rather openly to the crowd he had found an even greater calling. The Scythe in question had nearly murdered the contestant there for the perceived disrespect, but she had stayed her hand for one reason or another.

I ground my teeth. I felt an itch to dive right back into the Relictombs; to focus on getting stronger and perfecting my power. But I needed to check in on the situation in East Fiachra, especially with this new information.

“We’ll see,” I said, moving toward the Cistern.

—

“A few vicars and their servants have been renovating the temple nearby,” Wade acknowledged. “They came by not long after you two left. They cleared every person nearby out of the way, and from what little information my rats catch, they’ve been fixing up the inside and refurbishing the structure.”

He had been sitting on the sofa in front of the Fiachran planning map, going over a few papers when I’d interrupted him.

“Damn,” I said with a breath. “Is that all they’ve been doing?” I asked.

Wade shrugged. “They’ve only been here for a couple of days. Not long enough to really do anything, but you know damn well I’m keeping an eye out. These people have enough to deal with without the Doctrination sticking their noses in.”

I sighed. The public image the Doctrination tried to portray was of stern but fair priests who attempted to fulfill the High Sovereign’s will as his ‘mortal hands.’ But their message was cruel to those who had not awoken their mana. According to the Doctrination, nonmages simply never wanted to be mages enough. They didn’t desire to please their High Sovereigns enough, so they were spurned. If you were a nonmage, the only person you could blame was yourself.

It furthered the stigma against nonmages. And these people of East Fiachra, who were doomed before they even started?

The Doctrination would rip their brittle hope apart.

Naereni sauntered in before I could reply, holding Apple in her arms. The little skaunter crooned whenever she scratched under its chin.

The striker plopped herself down on the couch, sidling up to Wade. The sentry absentmindedly laid an arm around Naereni’s shoulders as she cooed at the little skaunter. Wade’s face flushed slightly as I smirked at him, giving a covert thumbs up. I was even able to set aside my reasonable suspicion of the skaunter for this new development.

“Sup, Toren!” the black-haired striker said, side-eying Wade’s flushed face and seeming proud of herself. “Are you an ascender now?”

“Yup,” I said, flashing my ascender’s badge. It had a nice chrome sheen since I was from a Named Blood.

Naereni snatched it from my hand, catching me off guard. “Hey!” I cried indignantly.

“You even look like you’re fresh off your prelim,” she said, snickering at my photo before tossing the card back. I narrowed my eyes at Apple, who looked like he would’ve enjoyed gnawing on my new card. “It seems like you won’t be coming back here nearly as often,” she said with a bit of a somber note.

I sighed. “Not nearly as much, no, but something’s recently come up. It seems your problems didn’t end with the Joans.”

Wade’s eyes flashed as he seemed to understand my implication from our earlier interactions.

“It looks like the Joans were being supported by a vicar from Etril,” I said slowly. “A mage named Mardeth. He’s set up camp in East Fiachra, and according to Wade, is currently restoring the temple there.”

Wade’s previously flushed face drained of color so fast it looked like a blur. “Mardeth? The Vicar of Plague is here? In our district?”

I nodded slowly. “I had a tense meeting with the man at the Fiachra Ascender’s Association,” I said. “And agents of Bloodstone Elixirs warned me earlier that Blood Joan had powerful backers.”

Naereni seemed confused by her beau’s change of demeanor. “Who’s this Murdeth person? And who names their kid Murdeth? That sounds like murder.”

“Mardeth,” Wade corrected with a breath. “The man was almost a Retainer. He has a brutal reputation, even for the Doctrination. Enough that I know about it, even from outside his Dominion.”

As the three of us began to talk, I realized that East Fiachra’s woes were far from finished.