As the Delegation flew closer, Alaster prepared to drop down and assist the defenders against the Orcs. After his last experience in the flying carriage, Alaster had spent a bit of time weaving a spell that would slow his descent. It was crude and quite Mana intensive, but it should slow him enough to not be lethal. Should.
Alaster had not quite had the opportunity to test it.
The spell basically just created a balloon of Mana beneath the caster to cushion the fall. It was so basic that practically anyone could do it. Most non-Mages simply did not have the Mana Pool large enough to do so.
Alaster stood up from the seat and stood before the door, stretching his shoulders. His Mana began to concentrate around him as he prepared his spell. Even the Warrior Guards in the next carriage felt it.
Azemar looked up from his book, “Sit back down Alaster.”
“Shouldn’t we help? The city is under attack.”
“It is actually rarer when the city isn’t being attacked.” One of the Nobles said.
“The men and women who defend the city are well trained and experienced. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, most of the casualties for the Galmorians are Minions and summons. The actual damage to the city’s defenses will be minor and the city will only become stronger for it.
You have other matters to attend to. Matters that should not be delayed simply because you are restless.”
“Like what? You have not exactly informed me about anything.” Alaster said with not a small amount of frustration as he sat back down.
“Because it’s more of a sensitive matter. Once we land, the Delegation will be shuffled away to discuss their meetings with Onigas. I will be there to supervise as well as give my own opinion to the City Lord. I want you to stay by my side and remain quiet. Do not speak unless directly spoken to.
We will discuss your training at a later time. Until then, keep silent and don’t do anything.”
Alaster sighed, but accepted it. He was in a new city. A city that had largely grown independently from the rest of the world. He had no idea what the customs were.
As blunt and uncaring as Alaster was, he did not wish to offend anyone, at least not without understanding.
However, if he was going to learn about their customs and habits, he would prefer not to be seen.
His pact armor reformed his helmet over his head and face.
The carriages flew over the walls, allowing Alaster a better view. They flew over the walls and the canals. A few people even spotted them flying high above the walls, but most didn’t.
As they came over the island in the middle of the city, Alaster noticed a small clearing with a large crowd. The carriages began to descend towards the clearing. A ring of heavily armed guards kept the landing site clear, though the crowd was not attempting to rush forward. The crowd seemed to be composed of the city’s influential.
That did not surprise Alaster. The Delegation was sent to another independent city in order to form an alliance. For such a proudly independent city like Galmore, that was a huge deal. Everyone wanted to be the first to know how it turned out. Yet despite their eagerness, they still remained graceful and distinguished.
Alaster hated that about Nobility.
The carriages landed lightly. The guards in the second carriage immediately marched out and opened the door for the Nobles. Azemar subtly motioned for Alaster to stay. The Nobles of the Delegation filed out with dignity. They were quickly escorted away towards the large castle, other guards creating a path through the crowd.
Azemar was next to exit the carriage and a few of the younger Nobles in the crowd began calling for his attention. But they all fell silent once the Elder of their City stepped off the carriage, revealing the armored giant that was Alaster.
The pact armor was meant to intimidate and coupled with the large frame of Alaster; it did its job well. But the armor only intimidated the younger and weaker within the crowd.
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Those powerful, experienced, or sensitive enough were more affected by the aura the giant gave off. A crushing and malicious weight that pressed down on everyone around.
An aura that was slowly crafted by each death Alaster delivered upon his foes. It was not something that the System granted. It had nothing to do with the System.
Such a pressure also had another name, Killing Intent, or Blood Lust. It grew with each kill, but not simply kills brought upon through defense of oneself or others. It was a pressure that grew with each death that was intended and initiated. The user had to have attacked with the intent to kill. Hence the name.
It was not a very creative name, but it did not need to be. It was blunt and cruel. However, it was also very minor. One would have had to kill thousands for even the weakest of heart and will to be physically affected by it. It was more of an early warning system. A warning to those that the one before them had blood on their hands and the will to use them.
Killing Intent grew stronger with each kill, but it could be enhanced and honed through experience and struggle. It was not something that could be gained through the hunting of Monsters either.
Alaster himself did not know he had such an aura. He had felt it a few times around others but had not known what it truly was. His own inexperience prevented him from concealing it, but his constant struggle for survival over the many years had honed it to a blade’s edge. An uncontrolled blade.
Azemar ignored the loud silence and followed after the Delegation. Alaster did the same, but while Azemar was reading his book, Alaster was watching his surroundings through the eyes of his Shadow Assassins. His Shadows had quickly concealed themselves within the Delegation’s shadows, melding into the crowd as the shadows connected. Traveling from shadow to shadow, the Assassins found vantage points above the crowd, where they could watch, and intervene if they needed to.
However, Alaster was not watching the crowd for threats. He was instead studying them.
Alaster was used to seeing Nobility in flashy and impractical clothes. Meant more to impress than to have use. But the Nobility in Galmore, at least the ones present, were very different.
The clothes they wore were still flashy and rich, but they were all practical. It was custom for all adult Nobles to wear either a sword or dagger, and the custom held true in Galmore. Yet the blades were not for show, each one showed signs of use, despite the wealthy designs and gems. More than one of the Nobles wore armor, incorporating it into their fashion.
Chainmail hidden under robes. Grieves with elaborate carvings. Chestplates with the Noble’s family emblem.
Alaster was impressed. Not just by their clothing, but also by the feeling they gave off. Each adult within the crowd was an experienced fighter. To varying degrees, they all had extensive experience in battle.
Hidden behind his faceplate, Alaster approved.
The young man followed after the Delegation into the castle and through the halls. Alaster was happy to find that even the City Lord’s residence was designed for defense. Narrow halls with murderholes built into them, allowing the defenders to funnel any hostile while raining arrows and magic on them. Periodically, there would be an open doorway only allowing single person to comfortably pass through. Alaster imagined the defenders using such doorless doorways as chokepoints where only a handful could hold back dozens.
There were no random branching hallways. Instead there were only intersections where chokepoints blocked each of the four paths, creating a sort of open defense station.
As one would expect, the City Lord’s castle still had wealth. Paintings and art filled the hallways, but none were gaudy in Alaster’s masterful opinion. They all told actual stories. Stories of the City’s struggles and triumps.
Alaster’s Shadows followed him through the fortress, learning for themselves the paths while remaining close enough to defend their master.
The deeper Alaster traveled through the castle, the greater his excitement became. As a child, he had always imagined designing a fortification capable of holding back an otherwise unstoppable horde. He had once drawn pictures in the dirt of his designs, finding flaws as he did so.
As he had grown stronger and more knowledgeable about others, he had come to the conclusion that every fortification had its flaws and weaknesses, especially when it came to magic.
But the longer he spent within Galmore, the more he saw that even the flaws and weaknesses were, in a way, strengths. With each step he took, Alaster calculated more and more soldiers that would be required to just take the castle, let alone the rest of the city.
His number had already grown to the thousands, and he did not know what even a fraction of the enchantments all around him did. He imagined that besides strengthening the structure, they also weakened certain types of magic. Though he was not sure.
Despite all his power and expertise, Alaster knew next to nothing about Enchantments. Belgroth was not much of a help in that regard because his peoples’ way of enchanting was more of a feeling than actual patterns and science. Sedall was equally as clueless about enchanting as Alaster. He had only overcome any challenge through overwhelming power and had not seen a need to learn the intricate and complicated magic of Enchanting.
However, Alaster’s thoughts were interrupted by the Delegation reaching their destination. Two large ironwood doors reinforced with steel and enchantments were guarded by ten Experts in heavy armor, though through his Shadows, Alaster knew there were another ten hidden in the walls and ceiling.
‘The throne room huh?’
‘Please don’t do anything stupid kid.’ Sedall begged.
‘I won’t if they won’t!’
The demigod only groaned in response.