HUMANS – MAGE YAVANNA (Elbak Kingdom’s First Mage)
Yvanna did not stay long in Kael Margonos' company, though she would have liked to enjoy his presence a little more. He always holds so many mysteries, and the arcane arts seem so simple when expressed through his lips—his voice, so captivating when he speaks of magic.
Yes, he can be exhausting at times, especially when he talks of the Inquisition and its schism with such fervor and belligerence. But for the greatest mage of Elbak, what happens within the order is of little concern. At worst, the consequences will be such that she will simply have to deal with a different interlocutor than Kael. Whether the Inquisitors tear themselves apart over their reckless experiments with creatures beyond their understanding, or whether they deem it admissible to sacrifice apprentices for their rituals—none of it matters to her.
That is precisely why she has always refused to officially join the Inquisition—too many secrets, too many hidden orders, too much danger. In Elbak, she is a big fish in a small pond. Within the Inquisition, she would be just another mage among many. Being a big fish suits her well, yet it has not stopped her from setting off in the dead of night toward the capital, to speak with King Aldrick.
The meeting was long—filled with shouts and exclamations, everything that defines human discourse—only to conclude with the decision to assemble a true contingent. Not the mere dozens previously sent, but thousands of men and women, creatures and artillery.
A woman of significance was present, one who shot dark glances. Ironically, her name did not sound so different from Yvanna’s. It was she who made the final decision, who requested that the King of Elbak not only participate but actively cooperate in the Inquisition’s war effort. Apparently she was directly given orders by the so called Archémiums.
Now, on horseback, guided only by a dim light and accompanied by a handful of unfortunate soldiers, she prefers the discomfort of the night over staying in Kor Morne. By now—surely even now—the abominable creatures of the Inquisition are being released from their iron cages. The enormous Baldakaïs, their twisted, spiked bodies, their gaping, round maws lined with countless fangs—a sight to make one wretch. The war machines inherited from that barbaric people, which the Inquisition now claims as its own—death spheres, harpoon spikes, slicing chains. And then the Inquisition’s own arsenal—the hordes of apprentices serving as fuel for transic magic, the arcane cannons, and all manner of sinister tools.
Yes, better to stay far away. If she could, she would hole up in her tower, have no part in this conflict, and let the dwarves and the Inquisition slaughter each other.
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ALBION
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I push forward, finally reaching the golems. They close in like Cerberus guarding the gates of the underworld—except what they bar me from is the outside. Freedom. My freedom!
Before any metal fist can smash into my face—shattering a nose, cartilage, and likely more with their sheer density—I see him. Beyond them, in the light. That strange man who barely knows how to talk. He is there, panting behind the Bavils.
He’s back.
Why so soon? Why alone? That idiot forces a weak smile, his face marked with exhaustion. I’m thrown backward—not fatally, but hard enough. As my body is hurled toward the moss-covered ground, I can’t help but think of his face. The absurdity of his return almost makes me laugh.
The impact is worse than the blow. My body feels suddenly so heavy, the moss already worn from our days of captivity, our starvation, licking moisture from the walls illuminated by those strange lights—lights Lyrel and the others have desperately tried to decipher. Perhaps their only beacon in this darkness, like a moth burning its wings as it brushes against the flame.
Yes, maybe I am too heavy. Maybe my bones are too dense, my belly too fat, still floating despite the hunger constricting my stomach in a grotesque, silent performance.
“Arrggh.” No need for elaborate words. Everyone understands my immediate thought. I probably didn’t even need to vocalize it. But too late now—and honestly, it felt good.
“Albion! Are you a damn fool?!” Groboln reprimands me, worried.
I give him a desperate grin. “He’s here, Groboln. The strange man. The Admiral.”
Groboln shakes me, his face twisted with confusion and growing tension. I blink, struggling to gather my thoughts after the impact. Everything feels blurred, the shock still rattling my ribs.
“Where the hell is he?!” Groboln exclaims, his frantic gaze darting between the Bavils.
Slowly, wincing in pain, I lift my head and gesture vaguely. Him. The Admiral. He stands there, still panting, his features strained, as if he had run until his lungs were on fire. Our eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, an odd understanding passes between us.
Why did he return so quickly? He could have fled, escaped this misery, never looked back. Yet, here he is.
The Bavils remain motionless, an impenetrable wall of metal and menace. But something shifts in their stance. Their stillness is no longer absolute; they sway slightly, as if waiting. For a reaction? An order?
Around me, the tension is suffocating. Lyrel has risen, still transfixed by the strange lights, while I sense Salina creeping closer behind me.
Why did he come back?
The Admiral looks at each of us, one by one. Then, slowly, he raises his hands in surrender. As if to show he means no harm.
The Bavils do not move.
He takes a deep breath and, in a language still rough, still uncertain, he speaks:
“Let… out.”
A deathly silence falls over the cavern.
Groboln arches a brow, stunned.
“Did you just hear what I heard?”
“Yeah. And so did you.”
Salina tightens her grip on my shoulder.
“No way… He can speak our language?!”
It’s not perfect, far from it. But the words are clear enough to understand. He learned to speak?! In so little time?!
The Bavils remain impassive. Not a movement, not a sound.
Then, after an agonizing wait, one of them slightly tilts its head. It does not look at the Admiral.
It looks elsewhere.
“What the hell is going on?!” someone whispers in the darkness, shattering the silence.