The warm water cascaded down, washing away the sweat and some of the nerves that the dream had wrought, Xia carefully thinking about literally anything else.
The showers had always posed something of a conundrum for Xia, one that often occupied her thoughts in said shower; where exactly did the water come from? With what she knew of the Citadel there was almost no way it could be a natural water source and though she’d met mages who could bring forth truly tremendous sprays of water the thought of supplying it for the tens of millions who dwelled there was a daunting one.
An external supply wasn’t the answer either. A permanent portal to a river or ocean somewhere was even more unlikely, that kind of security risk would cause anyone in administration to have a conniption on the spot. Deliveries were a possibility but then where was the infrastructure for it? The manpower? She’d looked and found no hint of either.
Perhaps she was looking in the wrong place, not everything extraordinary had to be magic, she certainly wasn’t. Although despite assurances to the contrary she certainly didn’t feel extraordinary.
She was smart, she knew that much, she’d never have been kidnapped… Xia took a moment to pause as she quietly if forcefully took control of her internal monologue. She’d never have been recruited if she wasn’t. But she had no magic, and it was terribly hard to feel good about yourself for having a good grounding in physics and human anatomy when surrounded by people in open defiance of both.
With a soft growl of annoyance she turned the shower off, another relaxation session ruined by moping. Still at least she’d gotten out before the alarm had forced her out. Her own disappointment she could cope with, she was used to it afterall. Her teachers’ on the other hand…
*
Xia raised the longsword in an overhead parry, transitioning swiftly into the counterstrike. As always it did nothing, her sparring partner tantalisingly out of reach as she recovered, bringing her blade back to a guard, point kept unwaveringly aimed at his throat.
“You’re eager for the kill today.” Vitorio noted idly, flourishing his own blade in an almost comical display of poor form, bad practice and arrogance. She didn’t fall for it, the damned vampire wanted her to take the opening and she knew that by the time she’d even begun to put tension into her legs that sword, a slim steel falchion would be back where it belonged. “Another dream?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to get distracted by speaking even as she resisted the urge to mop the sweat out of her eyes.
Her teacher gave that some thought then carefully placed his sword on the wooden slatted floor, the movement absolutely soundless, before raising his hands, palms open and exposed to signal his lack of a weapon.
Gratefully Xia mimicked him if without the same silent grace as she tried to get her breath back, “Why?”
He’d sit down on the floor cross-legged, gesturing her to sit beside him. The vampire was dark-skinned, and somehow sun-worn, indicating a life of hard work before he’d been turned and there was a warmth to him that Xia had not encountered amongst the other undead she’d occasionally brushed shoulders with.
“Because it’s consuming you, bit by bit, and because I think you’ll get more out of this chat than another half hour of being carved to ribbons.”
Xia suppressed a wince, the use of live blades in training had proven painful, even if she healed in seconds, which she did – it was the reason she’d been recruited in the first place. “So what do you want to know?”
“I think that’s what I should be asking you.” Vitorio replied, poorly stifling a chuckle.
She took a moment, running back through her dream for avenues to explore, eventually settling on her question, “What’s a cultivator?”
“I’m going to need some context on that one.” He admitted with a shrug, his posture all but perfect as he sat straight. It was a vampire thing apparently. For the first few years a vampire, almost no matter the variations on the theme, would automatically perform the same reflexive actions as they did in life, breathing, grinding of teeth and also, for the truly determined to slowly deform their spine into a question mark, slouching but bit by bit those trappings of humanity would fall away as unneeded, or be obsessed into exaggeration.
The problem was bad enough that the Citadel of Eternity did in fact host mortality classes to help the undead or never-alive to better blend in with the living, or at least put them better at ease.
“I don’t honestly know. I’ve been starting to get more details, my own thoughts mostly, one of the fighters I thought of them as a cultivator.” Xia explained disjointedly as she tried to piece together her own thoughts.
“Some kind of plant based magic then? Though I’m pretty sure the technical term for that is a chloromancer, it could be a local term, heavens know there are more than enough of them, and that’s just here.” Vitorio mused. “Have you thought more about my offer? I really do think it would help.”
The young scientist arched an eyebrow at that, “Are you talking about the meditation or the vampirism?”
“The meditation, though I feel you should take both seriously.”
“Why would meditation help with this? Or vampirism for that matter.”
“Meditation would help your clarity of thought and self-awareness, perhaps helping you notice details you missed in the dreams. You believe them to be important yes?” He asked calmly to get a reluctant nod in return, “Then I would be happy to run you through some guided meditations to help, it’s certainly a better use of my time than teaching swordplay to arrogant wastrels who believe a big enough gun solves all problems.”
That got a pause out of Xia, in the seven months the vampire had been her personal tutor he’d never once even suggested that he was dissatisfied with his lot in unlife. Still he’d only answered her first question so she pressed on with the second undaunted.
“And the vampirism?”
“It’s… complicated. And political.” Vitorio rubbed at his forehead as he tried to figure out how to phrase this in such a way his student wouldn’t just run for the hills never to return, though whether that was lingering humanity or carefully cultivated affectation Xia couldn’t tell. “The short answer is because I think you’re going to get killed and it’s really easily avoidable but no one with the power to stop it gives a damn.”
“That’s… emphatic.” She said slowly, surprised at the bitterness in his voice. “And how does turning me undead help? Also can I even be turned undead? I mean… how do medical nanites and vampirism work?”
“Well my brand of vampirism is magical rather than viral so the two should be able to coexist. The process of siring you would be… unusually painful I’m afraid.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Wonderful. And this helps me how?” She asked, a hint of waspishness finally creeping in.
“It does and it doesn’t. It would… reduce you, your potential, limit you in ways you would not enjoy, enhance you in others.” As monsters went Vitorio was unapologetic in his honesty, “But as your sire I would have final say in your education. For example I would not allow a future healer and crisis response agent be apprenticed to one of our foremost scouts who neither wants or cares for her presence.”
Xia’s first instinct was to reject the offer out of hand but she had to admit there was a temptation to it. Not to the vampirism itself, even if she knew for a fact the largest downside of Vitorio’s could be mitigated with a good enough sun block she was already considered able to live forever by the byzantine classifications of the Citadel, in fact she was considered Class 7 when Vitorio was just a Class 8, something that had never once made sense to her.
No, the appeal was to get out from under Master Ouro’s thumb. Supposedly it was great honour to be picked by one of the Scouting Division to succeed them but Ouro was not a nurturing teacher by any measure and his reasons for picking her were… suspect. Not only was she not selected as a scout, instead in the Crisis Response (Medical) training program, but most of her interactions with her supposed mentor had involved attending parties with him in her best clothes, more accessory than protégé, Ouro leaving her training to a hand-picked selection of teachers; though begrudgingly she’d admit in that single aspect he hadn’t been lacking.
“Would I have to call you Master?” It probably wasn’t the most important question but it was definitely the first that came to mind.
Vitorio just laughed, “Technically the correct title would be My Sire when not using my name, though no, I don’t insist on such things. He does rather cling to it though doesn’t he.” Another wry chuckle, “It’s not an ownership or apprenticeship thing in his case, he’s an acknowledged master of one of the magical arts. On his homeworld such a title would be his right.”
“Then why am I the only he insists calls him that?” She demanded.
“Because you’re the only one naïve enough to actually do it.”
Xia practically bit her tongue swallowing her retort. “So no fancy titles. Any other reasons I should agree to this?”
“None come to mind.” He admits, “But I think not dying is a pretty good incentive.”
“If I’m in such danger then why haven’t you brought it up before today?” She demanded, going so far as to take a calming breath. She wasn’t sure why she was so angry… no that was a lie, after a year of being kept in the dark she was lashing out at the person taking the metaphorical blindfold off for not doing it sooner.
To be fair unless the reason was really fucking good then it was justified anger, but probably best to make sure the reason was not in fact really fucking good to avoid ice cold shame washing over her the next time she was in the shower.
“Ouro got called in first thing this morning. As did all the other scout team leaders, the diplomatic corp and a special envoy got sent to Bastions Twelve, Thirteen and Sixteen.” Vitorio said as if the words were lead. “Now maybe it’s nothing, but if it’s serious then it’ll be an all hands call and until you qualify for Crisis Response you’re officially in Scouting.”
The last bit wasn’t exactly news for her but the implications were starting to sink in. Scouting had the fourth highest mortality rate of any in the Citadel of Eternity, beaten out only by the Memetic Warfare Department and the Deep Library Exploratory Group. And calling in the Bastions was… well even virtually confined to the training section of the Citadel the Bastions were big news, the expected last holdouts of reality should the forces of Beyond ever succeed in their suspected goal of universal universe collapse. Numbered in order of discovery or creation most were locations, the Citadel of Eternity for example was officially listed as Bastion One, but a few were people.
She’d never seen what happened when one was invited to the Citadel but the protocol for it had been part of her training, it was fairly complex and detailed, but only one part of it had applied to her:
Section 2, Subsection C:
All personnel rated below Class Two Eternal are to take shelter in their rooms unless specifically ordered otherwise.
As she went to respond Xia was surprised to find her mouth was dry and there was this deep well of cold weight in her belly, “So you’re saying-“
“That the threat has gone from theoretical to imminent.” Vitorio completed for her as her voice failed her. “I try to conduct myself in a good manner. I was content to just leave the offer out there in the ether, without urgency, but now I have to press you for an answer. I didn’t want you to make it out of fear but here we are.”
“How long do I have to decide?” She asked quietly, the words almost dying on her lips.
“Until Ouro calls for you to aid him in whatever task he has been assigned. However long that may be.”
“I uh… I…” Xia bit her bottom lip, sometimes the pain helped her think more clearly when her brain was mess of wool. “I… no. Thank you for the offer but I’d like to stay human.”
The vampire nodded, “Very well. Would you like to take the rest of the session off? Give yourself a break?”
“Please.” She got up to leave, stretching copiously first and leaving behind the longsword (it wasn’t hers) only to stop at the door, “Oh and Master Vitorio… thank you for caring.”
He smiled, and despite the flash of fang it was a kindly one, “Thank me when I do something difficult my dear. Go in peace and safety.”
*
The Council of Eternity had a far grander title than those who composed it. It had not always been so. Eliza could remember all the way back to when the Citadel was newly founded, little more than a few rooms shielded from the Great Void and the sight of those that lurked in it. There’d been fewer on the Council, just three to the current six, always an odd number to avoid deadlock, but oh how they’d blazed with power and purpose. But like all burning things they went out eventually, only two remained now from that halcyon era.
They called her Eliza, Scion of the World-Serpent, Mistress of Stone and Scale, The Familiar Who Broke Her Pact and all but the last of those titles were so terribly wrong… almost all the stories about her were wrong. They thought her immense size, best measured in kilometres than metres was the result of some terrible heritage, a child of a Jormungandr or other world-eater, but though she had to fold space itself around her to make room in the Council chamber the truth was she’d been born a tiny viper, not even a magical species, just a snake who’d been lucky enough to try and bite the right person. Her wonderful master who had given freely of his magic, his knowledge and, most importantly to a growing snake, his food. Time and a few System enhancements had done the rest.
Her official title on the Council was Master of the Menagerie, the voice for all the familiars left behind by their bonded’s death, doomed to eternity with part of their soul missing. It was a prestigious position, and she hated it every day. The reminder of what she’d lost. But the work was important, and she could do it, and, as he had always told her, that had to be enough.
Today especially the work was important as Malidu, Head Librarian, and wow was that a title that didn’t capture the scope of the work involved, summoned up the Multiversal Map. Even after all this time she couldn’t help a little bit of awe as the map resolved into a wondrous cloud of purples, blues, reds, greens and golds, with a few minor notes of other colours for the truly rare world types. The only copy was here, perhaps the only copy could be here, the mana needed to power all its abilities was excessive.
It wasn’t a true map of the myriad realities and their relationship to one another, the Council was many things but with a few exceptions they were beings limited to just the four dimensions and thus the map had had to be simplified into something they could actually work with, a 3D visual representation.
But still every known world still living, every detail about it available at just a thought if you wanted but today the map seemed smaller than usual. Far out in the distance, so far out that it was almost off the table, a tiny blue dot blinked. Far past all recorded worlds, far past where worlds should even be able to support what they regarded as life, where mana should not, possibly even could not, exist, a mana beacon blazed across the dimensions.
It was new, and as a rule the Council of Eternity hated new; needed new. New was a threat. New was opportunity. Right now the Citadel could ill afford a new threat, they were already overburdened, but they could even less afford to pass up the opportunity for the cold truth was they were losing the war.
The end wouldn’t come today, tomorrow, a thousand, possibly even a million years from now but all evidence pointed to a slow, inevitable death.
“Overwhelming force.” M’kal, Demon Lord and the Master of Scouts, “Everything we can spare.”
“It seems somewhat preemptive.” Eliza noted softly, voice lacking any of the characteristic hiss of her youth, “This world need not be a threat to us.” As she waited on a reply or interjection she tasted the air. It was heady with both fear and hope in equal measure, as she’d suspected, and the one taste of excitement bordering on lust.
“I agree with M’kal.” Crooned a rasping, reedy voice, the withered and faded crone of Susan, who bore no title and held no rank, (and who Eliza knew for a fact tolerated the name out of a perverse bemusement), and was here regardless for none dared gainsay her. “Everything we can spare.”
The words sent a shiver down Eliza’s spine, and for a snake that was a shiver indeed, because she knew already what the damned succubus wanted, because she knew the consequences of giving it to her, and because she wanted to give it to her more than anything. She may have betrayed her bond, committed treachery against someone who had shared part of her very soul, and she his, but some things could not be killed, just inconvenienced.
Fortunately Malidu found his tongue before she could get too lost in that train of thought, “Moving to a war footing would leave us dangerously overstretched, four of the seven are unaccounted for at present, if they struck a core world we would be slow to respond.”
She wanted to scream that they were playing into the witch’s hands, nearly opened her mouth to protest until she caught Susan’s gaze, never pretty given the unreserved hate the demoness held against her for the betrayal she’d bestowed up her own bonded companion, and saw something she wasn’t prepared for; compassion.
‘Have we not both suffered enough?’ The thought echoed in her head, the mental voice gentle and kind, the Susan of so long ago, before the betrayal of Eliza’s beloved master, cutting over Malidu’s continued speech.
‘It was necessary.’ She sent back as everyone waited on a reply from either of them, ‘He was out of control.’
‘Control? Why should he let others control him? He was magnificent, gods trembled when he spoke, the Seven knew his name, worlds shattered at his ire, why should he ever let flickering lights such as these command him?’
‘And always to tyrants…’ Eliza hissed back in her head, ‘He taught me those words, and I know he taught you too.’
“I say we put it to a vote.” Susan declared, “Recall the immortals, all of them.”
“Seconded.” Malidu added solemnly, “A final roll of the dice before we face oblivion.”
Darat – Regent of Recruitment as he insisted on being called – nodded, “That’s enough to force a vote. I vote against, the immortals don’t listen to us at the best of times, we don’t want to make them pick for or against us.”
“I vote against,” This from Elaya, Repository of Lore, and one of the two actual immortals on the Council, “A matter like this requires delicacy and care, one does not need to use a power maul to crack a nut.”
“I vote for, these may be a boon but it could be a new foe as well, better it be crushed than lose a scout team.” M’kal insisted.
“I must also vote against the recall.” Lillian, Mistress of Intrigue, whispered, though it carried all the same, allowing the gathered beings to remember her existence long enough for the vote.
All eyes turned to Eliza. The Master of the Menagerie hissed out a long and sibilant sigh, “I vote to recall them. May we one day be forgiven.”