In another part of the region, hundreds of meters in the air, servants busied themselves in the late hours of the night. Their work would not see completion until well after the light returned to Aughal, despite the relatively small space in which they toiled. It was a suspended platform, in simple terms.
To describe it more accurately, or at least give it its title, it was The Eye of the Spires. A circular platform that bridged the four towering structures that had been the result of finishing this region’s Spoke. In a normal world its position between them would be untenable, the bridges and shallow supports at four points unable to bear the weight of the stone it was made of.
Magic answered many questions physics asked. Not the remnant magic of the Spoke, but that of Builders who’d stabilized the creation through group effort until the Eye had been accepted by the Spoke. A fountain was placed in the center, from which an enchantment produced water that would otherwise have no source to flow from. A cruel throne had once stood in its place, but those days were over.
The earliest preparations saw the servants cleaning. Polishing the surfaces of many tables, dusting the sand from statues placed on plinths that had been dragged here in the earlier hours, and otherwise maintaining a space exposed at all times to the elements. Those important enough to even be this far up a Spire, and not for reasons of employment, could enjoy this space at most times. It was by no means unattended, but today was important.
Two more hours were spent this way. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as good as it would get. A few wondered amongst themselves when the city’s elites would have the stone itself enchanted to resist dirt. Was it possible? Surely, just look where they were standing. But there were other problems, and for the most part there was silence. None spoke of what had happened to their sibling region. They didn’t know.
By the time the sun rose, the tables were dressed and flowers placed to greet it. Not of the desert, there were brighter things that needed almost constant watering to keep fresh. They’d be dead by the end of the day, which coincided with when their usefulness would be at an end. The band arrived at that point. There was no proper Bard among them, that wouldn’t do at all. They were just normal people who’d learned to play and who’d been confirmed to hit their wall, so it would never be a problem.
Music filled the air as they practiced, tuning their instruments and adjusting positions according to the instructions of an overseer to best accommodate the space. Without powers, there was nothing else they could do to compensate for the poor acoustics of the space.
Hours before the Spires’ Eye would see the main event, it fully emptied. The day’s heat was beginning to climb. To the four that approached, one from each Spire, all that was noticeable was the sun on their faces. Over the years, Aughal had seen tumultuous changes in the power landscape prompted by alliances, betrayals, and assassinations. There were not always four factions, and not always one leader for each, but that was the case for now. Such as it was, each approaching from one side of the Spires’ Eye fulfilled both the need for a sense of equality between them, as well as the draw of symmetry that inexplicably called to all races.
Two humans, one avianoid, and a dusker. The leaders of Aughal for now. They maintained power solely through influence, wealth, and the Legacy of their ancestral lines. Aucrest Seliri, or Silver Eye as he did not like to be known, knew he’d die one day. It wasn’t going to be soon, and he would end his line before handing it over to the likes of Eddor Kaysian. Two generations ago, Eddor’s grandfather had stood where he was now. That man’s loss and his gain.
The avianoid stood in the slight breeze. The silver that his white feathers ended in caught the sunrise. For a moment, he was reminded of that ridiculous rumor that he painted the tips. How would that even work? One of the humans had started it, that was for sure. He adjusted one of the rings on his fingers and walked forward.
The two humans made their approach together, meeting midway but still walking a meter apart. They were allies, though also rocks in each other’s path. Aughal’s political backdrop included no shortage of racial division that Aucrest himself had run against. In general, like kept with kind but only so far as it benefited them. Both of these humans gained security from the other’s presence, though these matters had become cloudier as of late. It wasn’t the death of Lord Rodreick, it was what he’d done.
“Lords. Lady,” the fourth member spoke first. Ytaya, to omit the pointless title they all shared. To Aucrest she looked like any other dusker, save for the fact that her natural armored plates were separated under the sun. Strips of silk also flowed across her body. The duskers’ ability to double their height made clothing difficult to design, and unnecessary as far as manners were concerned. Either way, appearing as she was was a power move, making the others look up at her.
“Let us not mince words,” the older human, a woman, fired back immediately. Claret Sosa. If this wasn’t a private meeting that son of hers would be clinging to the teal gray dress wrapped around her old bones. Two mistakes he could see there leading to one conclusion. Her line would fall from prominence within a decade. Another Eddor. The only poison stronger than the Assassin’s was complacency. “We are still under threat. We still do not know the exact manner of Rodreick’s death, or who hired the Assassin responsible!”
“Yet it seems you two received plenty of his former allies,” Aucrest noted, just detached enough to avoid a blatantly accusatory tone.
“You would know a thing or two about stealing supporters, wouldn’t you?” Bennar Hammerson remarked coolly but with a definitive accusation. He was the most dangerous individual of the others of the Council. Not in the strength of Legacy carried, each was powerful enough to make comparison meaningless. No, Bennar had Claret’s cunning and the years to make use of it.
“Are you suggesting that has occurred?”
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“No, I just find hypocrisy distasteful.”
“Gentleman.” Ytaya was amused. In this dispute, she had little stake either way. “I agree with Claret. Discuss this quickly. The sun is so bright today.”
“I heard a storm was going to come through in the next hour. It might last all day.” Aucrest didn’t feel it necessary to mention that discussing the weather was hardly moving on.
“Really?” Ytaya sounded hopeful, then concerned. “Will we need to delay the event?”
“Hardly not,” Claret denied sharply. “If you bothered to stay informed, you’d know we’re temporarily extending the Shroud over the platform.”
“I was not informed of this!”
Claret gave the dusker a look of fake innocence. “Really? How odd, we received approval from your faction. Well, regardless, we have a majority behind the action and I doubt you’d oppose us.”
Now that was interesting. Aucrest hadn’t done anything, not that this kind of game was beneath him, which meant either Ytaya was scheming or Claret had done something dangerous. Any manipulation of the Spires required something akin to a group vote between Council members, with the majority enacting their will over the divine shard entrusted to their region. Three Council members could go around the fourth and get things done, but that opened the door to reprisal later and if they were especially egregious, it might provoke a strong response from the public. Claret was inviting risk for relatively little gain. No doubt she foresaw what the immediate future held for her line and was growing desperate. A house of Eddors. She’d been getting bolder, but Aucrest didn’t sense a direct admission in her taunt either. Maybe Bennar had-
Ytaya’s incandescent bellow cut over his thoughts. “I wish to be fully informed of all the details immediately! If I find I was intentionally left out, you will not like what happens next.”
“I assure you, I am not to blame for your lapse in awareness,” Claret said acerbically. “If you need to know so badly, have your people do it. We’re not here to discuss the weather.” It was a decent backhand. Not worth the trouble for if she truly had set this up, but Ytaya might as well have been half their size after finding herself off balance. Claret continued, “Now, matters of Assassins aside, I assume we agree about announcing the fate of the Thormundz?”
Bennar shifted but nodded. A compromise. Aucrest saw the telltale signs of one human bending over for another. He wasn’t going to make an issue of this. “Of course, I agree. Though you are aware word will inevitably spread down the Spires? I’m surprised it hasn’t already.”
“It hasn’t, because we’ve kept the secret well!” Ytaya protested, somewhat lamely as she again found herself one to three. She directed her massive head towards Aucrest. “You only say that because they have a majority!”
“If that’s the case, why waste time protesting? No, I feel it agreeable to spread the news. They are to reach our gates by the end of the week. I suppose you would have us keep the secret, even then?”
It was not Ytaya’s day. Aucrest hadn’t planned this takedown with the humans but wouldn’t be where he was if he couldn’t pounce on an opportunity. “What of any rare classes?” she asked, voice louder than any of them could shout. Movement flickered in the doorways leading to the Spires, but nothing happened. “We are to let anyone have this knowledge before we have a chance to act on it? Our neighbors have denied us before, and from our allotment no less. Has anyone else forgotten how Threst poached the first Artificer we’ve seen after Arpan only days after they’d awakened their class?”
“You expect a failed region to have produced anyone like that?” Claret tsked. “No, the Fate was clear. No survivors with rare powers. No chance of a rare class and none on the Regional Log. If Threst, Kallical, and Vellus want to sort through the weeds for a good Builder or Craftsman amongst the commons, let them. The survivors may be strong, but it seems Threst has snapped up a majority before they even crossed the border. What I am concerned about is the support contracts our region would be liable for if we continued to allow goods transit through our lands ostensibly for the Thormundz.”
Aucrest’s eyes widened as he read the subtext and made an assumption, which he attempted to cover with a cough. Bold indeed. Claret must have been requesting materials and funding from Rikendia for some form of relief effort into the Thormundz, despite their agreement to let that situation play out on its own. The lightning dragon they’d detected in the pass made any thoughts of helping pointless, especially after the news had reached them that it had decimated a relief force sent by Threst in the early days of the disaster.
If the region had continued to hold on, the losses of what had been given could be written off. Perhaps a failed evacuation attempt would have been made if Claret was willing to sacrifice a few of the guard. With the survivors breaking out so quickly, leaving no doubt as to what happened and the lack of aid given, the plan had backfired. If she could cite reasonable concern of their necessity in some future hypothetical, and the goods were promptly returned, there would be no penalty.
On the other hand, if she continued accepting goods and payment whilst aware of what had happened, Rikendia would be out for blood and levy her house’s holding. If that wasn’t enough it would spill over to the region in general and may just be the end of Claret’s entire faction. The knowledge had to be made public in this region for her to cleanly stop the shipments. The longer this stretched on, the worse the position she was in.
Should he fight this? No, she was already on her way out. Ytaya seemed prepared to capitalize on the weakness she’d seen as well, but he got there first. “Of course! Whatever exposes us to the least liability. Our status amidst the kingdom will already suffer for this, but if we can at least lose no less than Threst that would be preferable.”
Aucrest had earned the ire of two of the three now, and the surprise of Claret. “Then there is no further need to discuss this. I-”
“However,” his words cut her off. “I would ask a thorough accounting be made of anyone who had taken goods under such contracts. To limit liability, of course. Say, headed by one subordinate of each of our choosing? We must show good faith if we want to have these deals forgiven without penalty.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Claret tried to hide her nerves but a shaking hand betrayed her. How much had she signed up for under the table?
Bennar looked between the two and came to his own decision. “I think it sounds reasonable. Like the bird said. Limit our liability.”
“I find this agreeable.” Ytaya was smiling for the first time, not counting when she’d heard about the storm. “Should there be no discontent, we have a majority of our own. No need to further discuss this.”
This time, Aucrest could feel Claret urging him to interject again, but he stayed silent. So did Bennar. “Good. There are no further matters of state?” No response. “Well, I hope all of us can enjoy the festivities.”
Aucrest walked away from the fountain feeling largely indifferent. Honestly, he was more worried about his daughter returning from the Thormundz than anything that had been just said. He’d had his moments of fun, but in the end, he’d neither gained nor lost anything important here. For a five-minute conversation that could be expected. Still, he kept wary. The balance of power in Aughal could tilt on four words, as they had famously two centuries ago. He chirped them under his breath idly as he walked away from the very spot it had happened. “Death to the Tyrant.”