Without a shadow of a doubt, he could surely elucidate things to a greater degree than incomplete historical records and folk legends. She managed to wrestle her own curiosity down to just one more question.
“One more question, then, before we turn to the depressing matter of politics. Tell me about the kalpas of the world, how many there have been.”
“MORE THAN I CAN COUNT. A KALPA IS NAUGHT BUT A VAST STRETCH OF TIME BETWEEN WHOSE BEGINNING AND END THE WORLD CHANGES IN SOME FUNDAMENTAL MANNER. THAT… THAT IS ALL I CAN SAY. I HAVE MADE THE MISTAKE OF SHARING MY KNOWLEDGE IN FULL, AND I HAVE SEEN A KALPA BOUND BY SLAVISH REVERENCE FOR THE LONG-DEAD ASHES OF ANCIENT HISTORY. NEVER. AGAIN.”
“Then… Let me begin with my request. I seek your blessing to venture to Eldartha, so that I might save my spirit weapon, without which I am crippled, as I practice Storm-soul Cultivation. I would not merely see it restored, but reforged to a form with which I might carry out my will upon the world, a form which will not falter even faced with the likes of Tian Feng or a resurrected Dead God. So you see, then, the need I have of your holy forge. There is no place in the land that I know of which could see my blade resurrected in such a manner.”
“AH… ELDARTHA. IT IS A FORGE LIT BY ONE AMONG THE FEW GODS WHOSE DIVINITY YET REMAINS; THE FORGEMOTHER, NOBLEST OF THEM ALL, SAW THE ATROCITIES OF HER KIN, AND WAS STRUCK DOWN BY THEM IN TURN. IT WAS BY HER FLAME, IN THE DEPTHS OF ELDARTHA, THAT ANCIENT MAN FORGED THE ARMS WITH WHICH THE LAST OF THE GODS WERE STRUCK DOWN. YOU, TRUEBORN WARRIOR OF THE MOSAIC SOUL - YOU WOULD SEEK MY BLESSING TO REFORGE YOUR BLADE IN THAT HOLIEST OF PLACES?”
“I would. With the heart-metal of a Fallen Star, imbued by the essence of a Dragon Descendant, enchanted by a kingdom’s worth in Pateirian magic-coin through the skillful hand of Ingvald the Forgehand, so that the divine flame of Eldartha shall have birthed the blade from start to finish. With your blessing, I would forge myself fangs with which to rip out the throat of the heavens.”
“SPEAK OF AMBITION… TRULY, MY MEASURE OF YOU WAS RIGHT FROM THE FIRST. RISE NOW AND COME FORTH, THAT I MIGHT BESTOW MY MARK UPON YOU,” said the King, holding out an open hand.
She did as he asked, though she had to muster substantial willpower to even approach. The Revenant King’s presence even at rest was such that approaching him was an ordeal. Nonetheless she pushed on. The giant that he was, the Revenant King breathed on her across his open hand, and his breath was somehow colder than the coldest wind she had felt during her climb. An ethereal, yet undeniable change took place.
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“WITH MY MARK, ELDARTHA’S GUARDIAN SPIRITS WILL GRANT YOU FREE PASSAGE. WHAT ELSE?”
Backing off in as respectful a manner as she could, Zel sighed: “Firstly, I would recount the deeds of myself and my clan, for we are bloodbound with the Hulsons. Particularly Jorfr Hulson, as he is a member of both the Newman and Hulson clans, especially for his instrumentality in the Blue Moon War and the events thereafter, including his efforts in our coming to Borea. Secondly, I intend to dispute the false casting-down of the Hulson Clan. And Lastly, I intend to level accusations against the Ramdall, Buhaug, Eisen, and Aase clans for their part in the conspiracy which led to the Hulsons’ false dishonor, motivated by petty desire for power in the absence of their ability to attain their ranks via legitimate means. Mere days ago, a member of the Ramdall clan, one Rikke Ramdall, was made to challenge me to holmgang over a paper-thin excuse in an ill-conceived effort by the clan’s elders to prevent me from acting in Borea in any way.”
As Zelsys spoke, it sunk in that her words weren’t entirely her own. She was speaking, but the meaning that resounded was subtly different, yet undeniably true. The Revenant King nodded, prompting her to keep going, and she knew that this was the means by which he extracted truthful testimony from his subjects throughout the millennia of his rule. He didn’t just discern lies from truth, his power somehow reconstructed a more complete truth even if a person didn’t know the whole story themselves.
So it was that Zelsys recounted everything to the Revenant King over the course of several hours. Not once did she feel cold in his throne room.
This brief time of everything going right wouldn’t last, however.
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Some time earlier, hundreds of kilometers across the permafrost…
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The mighty titan Teutobochus extracted a semi-spherical mass of cold-iron from a pit in the ice sheet, walking to the surface with the meteorite on one shoulder.
Soon, its return journey to Oasis City began, with Zefaris trailing close behind.
It was not arduous, and no incidents took place over the course of it.
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Above a particular peak of the Ikes mountains, the weather had suddenly turned to utter calamity. The clouds swirled an ominous purple, locusts and poisonous frogs and acid rain poured down altogether.
Wodan, the White-robed Brother, smiled as he partook of his tea.
Coalescing from a swarm of insects, his Black-robed counterpart thundered at a volume that would’ve shattered any mortal’s head: “You. You filthy liar. You did far more than just send them to the Smoke Witch. You…”
“I motivated the Smoke Witch to return a stolen memory to the Borean people by way of Zelsys Newman, yes! Frankly, I expected that it would take her reaching the Immortal Throne for you to find out.”
“This will not stand. What did you give the Witch?!”