“Well then, I better explain,” she responded. “What artificers do, is turn magical items into artifacts.”
He paused. “How?”
“Are you trying to squeeze their class secrets out of me?” she joked. “I’m kidding,” she added, seeing the man start to look awkward.
“The exact process is kept a closely guarded secret by the Artificers, but the general details are available to anyone who wants to know at the Athenaeum. You know what Origin items are, right?” she asked him.
“Sort of. It’s not like I’d ever get to see one,” he told her.
She nodded. “Origin items are a phenomena that occurs in very energy-dense and pure areas. I say energy dense because this occurs in the Heavenly Realm and Demon Realm too,” she added. “They are naturally formed items with incredibly strong and highly pure elemental mana or spiritual energy. They usually don’t have a combat function, but cause their surrounding area to be a sanctuary for those who want to increase their elemental affinity. Depending on the element, they can even give unique effects to those within the domain.”
She tapped the table. “Artificers use a similar phenomenal mechanism to replicate this and make artificial versions of Origin items.” She paused for a moment. “I should specify that they’re not actually trying to create copies of Origin items in any way. They make artifacts to make artifacts, not artifacts hoping they’ll be Origin items.”
“There are several conditions required to ‘develop’ an artifact.” She gestured to him. “First is a magical item of sufficient power and age. Over 1000 years is what I’ve been told. The second is an environment with a dense mana environment. Unlike with Origin items, the mana doesn’t need to be a single kind, but you need to control the elemental ratio to get the desired outcome. The environment can be artificially induced.”
She leaned back in her chair. “The last condition is time. Looots of time.” She frowned slightly. “I’ve heard rumours it’s supposed to be about twice the age of the object, and then longer depending on how strong you want the artifact. So if you want a powerful artifact, you’d waiting for quite a while.”
‘You mean you decided to test it one time to discover exactly how long artifacts needed. Was that equivalent to ten years of your life wasted in main realm time?’
Shush.
She shrugged. “That would be the case if they didn’t have a bunch of pocket dimensions with accelerated time. Of course, space is still limited within their artificial mana phenomena, so you’d be on a long waiting list to get your artifact.”
Sedric looked flabbergasted. “I- but I’m sure I’ve heard people say artificers create artifacts! Isn’t that something everyone is told?!”
A bit confused, Lucy shook her head. “Nobody thinks that way, unless you come from the-” She paused, having realised something unexpected. She looked at him with a strange expression on her face. “Sedric, you said you inherited that house and I’m assuming the class from your grandfather a year ago, right?”
Sedric gave her a hesitant nod, feeling the question was slightly off topic. Lucy leaned forward to gaze intently at him. “Where did you live before this? Or if you lived in several places, what were those?”
He frowned slightly and crossed his arms. “We were always travelling. My grandfather was my only living blood relative left, and I’ve followed him since I was eight. We’ve visited several Major kingdoms, and my grandfather did odd work for a few people here and there. He kept it quiet so he wouldn’t be abducted by a Guild or similar, but he had a friend who pointed him to people who wouldn’t ask too many questions,” he told her.
Lucy felt her suspicions increase. “None of the lesser empires?”
“I don’t see how that wou- None of them,” he said, switching his words when he saw the look she gave him.
She leaned back, arms crossed and with a complicated expression on her face. “Do you know if your grandfather had ever visited the Coalition?”
The man scowled, sounding defensive. “No, he-”
“Never mind,” she said, cutting him off after she had seen his reaction. “You said you had no experience with it, so if he had been there, then he would’ve taught you more about them. That was obvious in hindsight.” She pretended to ignore the way he relaxed slightly as she moved onto the next question. “Why did you mention suicide skills back in the room down there?”
Sedric paused, the question having caught him off guard. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly and his expression darkened a tad. “Shouldn’t you know better than me?”
Her confounded expression seemed to confuse him because he leaned forward to expand on his statement. “I mean, considering you know who I am and all, and even my class, it’s obvious you-”
Quickly picking up a fork, she flung it at him and it narrowly missed his cheek. He stared at her with wide eyes as she gazed dully at him. “I missed on purpose,” she stated dryly.
She got up from the table to collect her fork from a nearby bush, and he twisted in his chair to face her with an angry expression.
“What the hell was that for?!” he yelled.
As she went back to the table, she tapped him on the head with the handle of the fork. “It was because you had an idiotic idea,” she stated flatly. She placed the fork back on her plate and turned to him. “Sedric Ferin, please remember this,” she said, holding up a finger. “I hired you for your class and its abilities, there’s no more to it. I couldn’t care less about your origins.”
“Besides,” she added. “There is no way the Head of the Aurelian Commission should have any connection to some random commoner they found by ‘chance’ on the streets. We have no relation.”
The young man blinked, nonplussed for a moment, before his eyes lit up with a ‘realisation’ and he gave her a large nod to show he ‘understood’. “I mean, of course we wouldn’t, what an absurd notion! There is no way that the Commission’s leader, the leader of a powerful noble faction, would have any connection to the…” he withered under her stern gaze.
Lucy sighed. It was obvious he was having another misunderstanding about her, but she couldn’t be bothered to correct it at that moment. She picked up the fork and pointed it at him once more. “Idiotic thoughts.”
Leaving the confused Sedric to his own devices, she took out her pocket watch and checked the time. “I need to get back to organising documents, so I think we should leave our discussion here.” She picked up Scytale. “I’ll see you again on the weekend. Feel free to start getting some equipment or move in over the week.”
“Uh, okay,” the long-haired man said, getting up from his chair. “I guess I’ll see you sometime?” he asked, still confused.
She smiled and waved as she headed towards the rooftop’s elevator. “See you soon.”
She had to finish the last century’s worth of vault documents, and then tomorrow, she would pick up a Prophetess.
----------------------------------------
A few days ago, in a distant plane that glimmered like crystal from afar, 6 golden glass spires could be seen in the centre of the glistening city of the plane. These spires appeared as extremely tall spears rising out of the ground, connected by flowing bridges and elegant curved structures. The dull diamond-shaped yellow stone on top of the tallest spire suddenly let out a searingly bright glow that seemed to fill the entire sky of the plane with white light, before it dulled to a pulsating luminescence, but still brighter than it had been before. Within the spire, a man dressed in opulent white and gold robes was pacing, the hall he was within filled with reflective mirrors of gold glass. He stroked his long white beard, and in his hand was a tall gold staff topped with a gold semi-circle set at an angle. 5 golden spokes could be seen sticking out of it, giving it a shape reminiscent of a sun. The centre contained a hovering glowing yellow gemstone.
The man turned around when he heard the sounds of footsteps from behind him. In front of him were two tall intimidating men dressed in full plate armour, besides the helmet. Both wore armour seemingly cast out of burnished gold, but one had a scarlet cape and scarlet crest on his chest plate. He had salt and pepper black hair, greying at the sideburns, and dark brown eyes, appearing in his mid 40s. The man without a cape beside him was handsome, appearing somewhere in his late twenties to early 30s, but had a head of wild blonde hair and a closely shaved beard. A short scar was across his right eyebrow, and his eyes were a steely grey. The old man looked at the man wearing the scarlet cape and stretched out his hands with a wide smile.
“Sir Louveste! How wonderful it is to see you again. I trust you have successfully completed your last mission if you have responded to my command?”
The man got down on one knee and dipped his head, the blonde haired man beside him following. “It is my greatest honour to rid the realms of those heretical cultivators.”
The older man stroked his beard with a slight frown on his face. “Come now, can we not do away with the formalities? You are my longest time friend after all, Rolland.”
Rolland Louveste shook his head. “How dare I respond to the High Truth Gidelis Annador in such a manner, especially on such a day as today?”
The older man gave a sigh but it could be seen that Rolland’s manner had pleased him. He bent forward to help the armoured man up. “I suppose I’ll just have to acquiesce for now.”
When the man had stood up, Annador turned to look at the kneeling man next to him. “And who is this?” he asked, stroking his beard again. “I do not recall you having introduced this man to me before.”
Louveste nodded, and gestured to the blonde-haired man. The man raised his steely grey eyes and responded to the white-robed man with a fist pressed against his chest, “High-Ranked Paladin Jasten Albrecht reporting to the Great Sage of High Truth Gidelis Annador.” His tone was an entirely formal baritone and held no change in emotion.
The Sage furrowed his brows as he thought for a bit. “Jasten Albrecht? I do believe I recall hearing such a name recently… when was it?” his eyes widened a bit as he looked at the man. “The recent champion of the Paladin rankings?”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
He sighed. “Unfortunately, I was occupied, and couldn’t be there to authenticate your win in person.” He nodded to the man, gesturing for him to rise. “I am glad we have been able to meet.”
Albrecht dipped his head as he stood up. “It is my greatest honour to meet the High Truth.”
The Sage turned to Louveste. “It seems he takes after you with his formality.”
Louveste gave the tiniest of smiles. “He was like this before we met. I have been considering him as a candidate for my successor.”
The Sage’s eyes widened a bit and he turned to Albrecht. “To be considered so highly by the 6th Templar of High Justice, I must see your talent in person sometime.”
Louveste took a step forward to gaze at Annador with stern eyes. “Let us discuss this later. I believe all of Pedestal has seen the joyous signs of our new chosen at the top of the core tower. Has she appeared?”
The Sage likewise took on a stern expression and nodded to them both. “Follow me,” he said, turning around and walking down the hallway while using his tall staff as a cane. They followed in silence, only the sounds of armoured footsteps echoing as they walked across the gilded floor. They went through an open archway to enter a new wide room.
This room was large, and formed of high rising archways coming together at the centre of the peaked roof. In the middle of the room was a gargantuan glass cuboid prism structure, gently pulsating with multicoloured light and gold rays. 5 narrow bridge walkways led to the circular walkway around the prism, but below the walkways was completely empty, only the walls of the spire descending down into a seemingly bottomless chasm below. The Sage and two men walked down one of the white marble walkways, and when they made it to the central ring, the Sage turned around and looked at the men with stern eyes.
“Sir Louveste of High Justice and Paladin Albrecht, please kneel before the Oracle Prisma.”
They both dropped to one knee as the sage spread out his arms, holding the staff in one hand. The Sage switched to using a commanding tone. “On this day, our new light has been revealed to us. The Prophetess, the High Oracle, has been chosen. She will be brought before us so we can guide her and allow her to fulfill her destiny, as custom dictates. Therefore, she must be observed for three days and then brought among us.”
He looked at Louveste and placed his staff before him. “6th Templar Rolland Louveste,” he said. “You shall be beholden to the authority of the Radiance Staff, and guard the Prophetess for 3 days and 2 nights, as commanded.”
“As the Primarch of Fate wills,” the Templar responded, grabbing on to the staff as he stood up. The Sage nodded and he let go. Then Annador turned to the bushy-haired kneeling man beside him.
“A Templar must take a trusted man with him for this task,” the Sage told Albrecht. “High-Ranked Paladin Jasten Albrecht, You shall be beholden to the authority of the Radiance Staff, and guard the Prophetess for 3 days and 2 night, as commanded.”
He grabbed on to the staff firmly. “As the Primarch of Fate wills,” he said formally, standing up.
The Sage nodded to them both and turned around to gaze at the enormous glowing prism behind him. “You shall go, in secret, to the 8th Major Kingdom of Viridescent Emerald, the Evergreen plane. There you shall go to Devidial City and find the village of Verdure Hill. Our chosen shall be there.”
They both gave firm nods as the Sage turned around once more to face them. He spread his arms wide. “Now go! Find the High Oracle, and bring her back when the time is nigh!”
In sync, Louveste and Albrecht placed their clenched fists on their chests. “Yes your Eminence!”
Then they turned around and headed towards the exit of the vast room, walking down the walkway. Once they were out of sight, the Sage turned around and let out a deep sigh. He looked back at the rotating prism.
“A Prophetess, just after we had selected this century’s saintess. How absurd,” he muttered. He gazed at the slowly rotating crystal with narrowed eyes, stroking his white beard. “And a commoner too. Annoying.”
Gidelis Annador considered the state of the Citadel of Fate. Under his leadership as the Great Sage, the Citadel had entered a new era of prosperity. More nobles had come under their banner, and the Olden faction of the Empire and All-Aeon Athenaeum have worked closer with them than ever before, managing to earn a few policies for themselves from the Emperor over the last few decades. But a new Prophetess upset things. Last year, the saintess had been selected from a particularly strong and notable duchy of one of the 24 Major Kingdoms, and the Citadel had managed to sway the attitudes of several more neutral forces into being part of their side. Now though…
He sighed. A new Prophetess meant chaos. And Fate didn’t like chaos. An upset in the stability of the Empire meant the golden rivers of Fate became difficult and muddy to read, which hadn’t been helped by the Millennium Chapter halting the Fate reading abilities of Providence for a while. Luckily, it didn’t impact their ability to read the essence of fortune, but it was only a mid-ranked element compared to the powerful nature of the high-level element of Fate, so they could only attempt to utilise the abilities of the Oracle Prisma for a while. It gave them rudimentary information on the potential pathways of the future, but they were incapable of actually manipulating the rivers of Fate using it.
He shook his head. And now, a mere commoner was selected to become the next Prophetess. It was not the first time he lamented over their lack of control of the Prophetess class. He couldn’t even manipulate Fate relating to the Prophetess, as her innate authority over the essence was far stronger than his artificially earned hold over it. He narrowed his eyes again as he turned around and began walking along the suspended walkway. But a commoner girl was useful. She’d make a good puppet, and judging by the scene he had seen in the Oracle Prisma… she was rather naïve and unknowledgeable, being a country bumpkin, and so he would be able to teach her well indeed.
Some other time he might pity the girl’s fate, but she was only a pawn in the end. When her training is complete and she accepts the entirety of the true class from the Oracle Prisma, then she’ll be used to calculate the outcome of the future with that perfect accuracy of hers, given to her by the System, and likely live the rest of her life within the core tower. It was her Origin Skill that made her a Prophetess, after all. The life of an individual was irrelevant when it came to the prosperity of the Institution. Now, so long as nothing occurs during the observation period, he’ll be able to make use of her for the Citadel.
He left the large open room and its spectacular structure behind. He had to begin preparations for the Millennium Chapter, and locate which plane for the battlefield would grant the Empire the highest chance of winning in five years.
----------------------------------------
The sun was high overhead, beaming down warm rays of the early afternoon as a small country town was filled with lazy and contented energy, this time of year being a relaxing period for them all. The town was placed at the base of a small hill, green fields surrounding them on all sides. It was a picturesque view, providing a sense of peacefulness and security as a soft breeze blew through the grass on the hill.
Not all of it was picturesque, however. Outside the town, a long walking distance away and closer to a nearby forest, was a little squat house. The house was made of brick and had a tiled roof, but it had seemingly crumbled into disrepair. The tiling was patchy, providing poor shelter from the wind and rain, and the window shutters were falling of their hinges. The bricks had cracks running through them, and vines had started reclaiming the building. Inside was sparsely decorated and plain, and it was in here that two young figures could be found.
Beside a low, short bed, a young girl in her teens was collapsed on her knees, sobbing as she buried her head in her hands. A broken stool sat a ways from her, the legs having come off. She wore a plain dress that was slightly too small for her, and had a head of flowing wavy golden-blonde hair.
But the figure on the bed was the more noticeable feature of the room. Laying on the bed was a skinny young boy, shifting restlessly on the bed. He had his eyes closed as his eyelids flickered in uneasy sleep, and his skin was deathly pale and clammy, cold sweat dripping off him as he tossed and turned, clutching his chest. He had shoulder-length messy brown hair that was pasted to his forehead and darkened by his sweat, and he had dark bags under his eyes. His face was gaunt and his limbs were as skinny as sticks. He coughed weakly and the girl lifted her face to anxiously hold his pale hand in her palms, a tearful expression on her youthful face.
When she looked up, her whole face could be seen. The girl could only be called gorgeous, with unblemished clean skin, willowy eyebrows, and large eyes. Her eyes themselves were a blinding, luminous gold in that seemed to gleam like they were cast purely out of the resplendent metal. They were red rimmed as tracks of tears could be seen trickling down her face and into her hair near her neck. She let out a choked sob as she leaned forward and held the boy’s hand to her forehead.
“Raegan, don’t leave me. Not now,” she cried weakly, clenching the hand tighter.
The boy’s eyelids flickered a bit more, but it was unknown whether it was in unconscious recognition of her voice, or because of his restless sleep. The girl looked up at the boy’s face.
“Raegan, we can l-leave here if you wanted! You would always tell me we should run away…” she sniffled. Then she gave him a strained smile. “W-We can be part of the Citadel! We’ll be treated like nobles, and wear fancy clothes! Get revenge on the town who hated you!” She let out a short, hysterical laugh with wide eyes, likely to try and seem excited, but it sounded like the laugh of the insane. Her eyelids drooped as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the side of the wooden bed.
“Just… wake up for me, Raegan. Wake up, please…” she muttered weakly, thick tears dripping down her face once more. She went silent for a moment.
“Why did you never tell me your condition was this bad?!” she then cried out, grabbing on to her brother’s thin wrist once more. “Did something more happen?” She gazed at his pale face and sickly complexion once more, a solemn expression on her face. The, she moved her golden mana into her eyes, making them glow with vibrant light.
The girl’s expression was dismayed when she couldn’t see what she was looking for. She placed her head against the bed’s side again with a loud thunk as she grasped onto the thin sheets of the bed.
“I’m supposed to be this Prophetess...” she murmured. She looked up at the roof being held up by rotting wooden beams with a pleading gaze. “But why can’t I save my own brother.”
Only the creaking of the roof as wind blew through the house was heard, the world unresponsive to her cries, besides the weak sounds of shallow breathing coming from the bed beside her. The girl bit her lip, and clasped her hands together as she kneeled on the ground, ignoring the way her arms were shaking and the way her nails dug into her pale skin. Crimson blood welled from under her fingertips, but the girl rested her firmly clasped hands on the bed’s edge and closed her eyes.
Then, the surrounding air around her gained a mesmerising golden glow as the space shimmered and glinted like liquid metal, the strange aura giving off light in the dark room they were in. Dust and grime disintegrated around them when touched by the glowing light, even their clothes become a pure white rather than their faded beige tone. The girl waited.
Then she frowned as several strong sensations flowed into her. The distant sound of the clang of metal, the scent of dust and dirt, the stale breeze of a dry afternoon and the sensation of an abrasive aura rubbing against her very being, a sensation she could only assume to be the debilitating touch of demonic energies. The metallic taste of blood on her tongue. The girl dropped the golden aura, collapsing weakly against the side of the bed.
“I don’t want to know about a war I’ll never be part of!” she sobbed, leaning her head against the hard wooden board. “I want to know how I can save my brother…”
She twisted the coarse fabric of her dress in her hands, uncaring of strain she placed on the poor quality material. She gazed into the distance with a dismal look, drained and tired. She closed her eyes, as she let out another choked, dry sob, but she had no more tears left for her to cry.
“Take away this class...” she murmured. “And leave me be, please… I don’t want to see this future…”
She was quiet for a while, and almost seemed to be asleep as she laid there, breathing slowly without movement. Then suddenly, the boy on the bed started twisting and turning more vigorously, clutching at his chest with two hands and arching his back. Her eyes opened wide and she got up, turning to face the boy on the bed and hurriedly trying to hold him still so he didn’t fall off the bed. Her face turned more and more anxiously as the seizing didn’t stop, the boy letting out strangulated cries of pain.
“Raegan, Raegan, you need to stop moving. You’ll make it worse,” she said, trying to push him back down. “Raegan, tell me what’s wrong, please.”
She pushed him down with her entire upper body weight, keeping him down, until the boy slowly stopped moving, and his breathing slowed. She waited for a tense moment, and gave a sigh of relief when he didn’t move again. She slumped against the bed, anxiously holding his hand.
Then she froze as she noticed something wrong. She anxiously waited in the silence, listening to his breathing, and went wide eyed when she heard it. She turned to her brother and watched him as he breathed, her face growing paler and paler with every moment. The boy’s breathing was slowly growing quieter and quieter. He was dying.
She placed an arm across his chest as she held his hand. Her vision went blurry as new tears had come to flow where the others had dried, and she put his hand against her cheek.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” she cried. “I tried to help you, but nobody wants to help the ‘cursed child’ of Verdure Hill. Even the orphana-” the words got stuck in her throat, and so she just stroked his hair as she sobbed with her head in her arms. “Please forgive me, Raegan…”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her heart nearly stopped when she heard a strange sound. She slowly raised her head to gaze at the door of their house with wide eyes.
“Excuse me...” she heard what sounded like the voice of a young girl say. “Is anybody in there?”
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she went completely stiff, and gulped as she tried to swallow with her dry mouth. She shakily raised a hand to hold it over her mouth. Fate hadn’t told her anybody was there. Her precognition hadn’t activated. The ability bestowed on her by the very System itself, that granted her 'perfect' visions of the future, had failed. She jumped as she heard the voice cough.
“Just so you know,” the voice said casually. “I can actually sense that you’re in there. Both of you, in fact.”
She anxiously stood up, ignoring the pain in her stiff joints, and stood in front of the bed as if to protect it.
“Well, if I don’t hear you say something in the next ten seconds, I’ll presume you otherwise cannot or won’t say something, and will come in. I’ll begin counting.”
Clutching her brother’s hand tightly again, the blonde-haired girl started to panic. What could she even say? Her brother was dying right at this moment behind her, her abilities were failing her, and someone was trying to come in. Someone who she couldn’t even read the fate of. Her eyes grew wider as she had a terrible thought. They weren’t a Fate Devourer, were they?!
Fate had told her it would still be a few hours before the Citadel would come to collect her, so they wouldn’t be able to arrive in time to save her. She needed to stall for ti-
“I guess I’m coming in then,” the voice said, jolting her out of her thoughts. Ten seconds had already passed, the time feeling shorter due to her muddled thoughts. “Does this count as break and entry?” they wondered aloud.
She felt her breath catch in her throat as the door of their aging home swung inward, dislodging dust from the roof. The new figure coughed as they swept the dust from off their shoulders.
“I feel like I’m setting a new trend here,” she muttered, for the blonde-haired girl could see that she was a female, dressed in a long dark overcoat and strange dark shirt that came up to the middle of her neck. The figure took a step forward and turned to look at the blonde-haired girl. The blonde girl stared.
“Well, you’re definitely the right person,” the figure said, brushing dust off the top of her dark-haired head. She took another step forward as the girl was still standing before the bed, frozen stiff.
The figure was not very tall, but slim, with straight black hair that fell past their elbows and a fringe that just brushed their thin eyebrows. Or, eyebrow, for the figure was wearing a hard black mask that covered their right eyebrow, eye, and part of their cheek. The figure tilted their head as they noticed the blonde girl’s strange gaze.
But the girl was not staring at the figure at all. No, the figure was an interesting sight, but it was not what caused the girl’s reaction. The blonde-haired girl trembled as she gazed past the figure to stare at what was behind her. For there, where a person normally kept there glowing halo of golden fate, which directed their future, there was nothing. Or more truthfully, the absence of everything. Like a great black sun rising behind the figure, an endless void, the gilded rivers of fate halted when they came before that immovable halo of emptiness. Nothing entered it, and nothing would exit. No light, no mana, no essence of Fate or fortune, the golden energy would warp and twist around it like it was some distorted abomination of ill omen.
She could feel the void straining against the world around it like it was trying to grow, and there was a disconcerting sense of incongruity, like the void was something that shouldn’t ever be seen by mortal eyes.
The girl went weak at the knees and collapsed to the ground as the figure leaned forward with their hands behind their back to gaze at her, an intense light filling her one violently violent visible eye.
“Good afternoon, Miss Annaliese Verdon,” the figure spoke, giving her a wide smile.
“My name is Lucille Goldcroft.”