Kashur

“I trust His Majesty’s view was adequate?” Kashur asked a wide-eyed Kenji Zamora.

Kenji narrowed his gaze at him and leaned an ear to the Emperor’s slot before answering, “It was adequate.”

“We, too, have experienced the effect of these crystals on our technologies.” said the frostbitten Dwarf, holding up his blackened finger for a Disciple to attend to. “They’re impressive.”

“Yet destructive,” Mol Morin finished for him. “Using the crystals appears to harm Terris itself. Wherever they are used, the land beneath them perishes.”

The Dwarves muttered amongst themselves, and their spokesman added, “Yes, this has been our experience, too.”

Mol Morin gave him an acknowledging nod. “Thank you, Brother Dwarf, for sharing that information. As keepers of the Celestial Arts, we propose that the Wizards take charge of this new magic. Collect any crystals found, keep them safe, study them.” He paused. “We would also assess the site where the meteorite landed to see what damage it might have inflicted upon Terris, since the Elementals are not here to speak for her.”

Discomfort rumbled through the domed room.

“It would be better if the Elementals were here,” a Dwarf insisted. “The Elves, too. Why does the queen not make her presence known? This is too important a decision to make without all parties present.”

“Right,” Kenji sneered. “This feels like a play for the Wizards to keep this new power all to themselves.”

Mol Morin’s cheek twitched. “It has long been the responsibility of the Wizards to safeguard magic. Have we not been good stewards, Emperor?”

Kenji, his ear to the slot, only glared in reply.

Mol Morin raised his voice. “Our Peoples have lived for centuries committed to the peace our ancestors earned after the Rift War. Why would we jeopardize that now? We only wish for the common good. Celestial magic is the realm of the Wizards, and this meteorite came from the sky itself. Who better to assess its effect on Terris? Should the magic prove safe, we will share it amongst the Peoples of Terris so that all may benefit. What we don’t want is for a dangerous, destructive alien magic to spread unchecked throughout our realm—”

Kenji Zamora's arms were crossed over his broad chest. “We’ve seen no evidence that this magic is dangerous or destructive, only powerful.”

Kashur winced inwardly. The Dwarves could be convinced, but leave it to Kenji to muck things up.

A pregnant pause swept the room. Kashur glanced at his mentor, but the old man remained silent, a twitch of the eye the only outward sign of his distress. The Sky Engineers shifted in their seats. A Dwarf coughed.

Now what?

Finally, Mol Morin gave a little chuckle, almost inaudible, like a schoolteacher humoring a precocious child. “If his Majesty doubts the toxicity of the magic in these crystals, perhaps his Sentinel would like to test its effects personally.” He produced another purple shard from his robes, letting it hover over his palm.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Well played, Sir.

Kashur adjusted his cloak to hide his wriggle of delight. If the demonstration of the crystals’ power wasn’t enough to overcome the greed of the Imperials, this little improvisation should do the trick. Let the crystals take the Sentinel down a notch or two. He could certainly use it.

A murmur rippled through the room, then quieted as Kenji Zamora locked eyes with the Alchemist. A tiny smile played on Mol Morin’s lips. Kashur felt one on his own.

Go on, you sword-happy idiot.

The dragoon reached across the broken table, his hand closing around the floating shard. Sweat beaded on his forehead. All parties around the table fixed their attention on its pulsing purple lights. Kashur found himself holding his breath.

Any minute now. His eyes will roll back in his head. He’ll froth at the mouth.

Seconds passed, and more seconds. Nothing happened. Kashur’s chair felt like it was upholstered with needles.

Why wasn’t Kenji getting sick like the Imperial Disciples? Kashur could feel the foundation of his world shifting with each millimeter of Kenji Zamora's expanding smirk.

Mol Morin knew more about this new magic than he was letting on, and while Kashur didn’t appreciate the old man’s reticence, he too sensed the danger it carried. The convergence was coming. When it did, all celestial magic would become even more powerful. This new magic had to be contained, managed, lest it spark a war. Or worse.

Bloody griffins, why wasn’t he succumbing?

Zamora's eyes were locked on the Alchemist who sat across the table from him, powerful hands resting on the melting ice-covered surface of the table. Kashur saw the infuriating helplessness in his mentor’s dark eyes. Mol Morin, pinned by the Sentinel’s gaze, could do nothing.

That meant it was up to him.

Kashur’s gloved fingers moved in his lap. A whisper danced on his tongue, but his lips did not move.

Kenji’s grin faltered, and his eyes widened. His meaty hand went to his throat. When he tried to speak, only a choking sound came out. He pointed his other hand at Mol Morin, but the Alchemist sat still as an oak, powerful hands resting on the table.

Kashur sat paralyzed, too, lest he call attention to himself.

Someone else was working not to call attention to himself, as well, but the movement caught Kashur’s eye. The skinny Dwarf was the only one not watching the spectacle playing out before them. Instead, the hooded figure was leaning behind the chair of their companion, hand slipping into an exposed pocket. A flash of purple disappeared into the folds of their cloak.

What the..? Why was a Dwarf pickpocketing his own?

But Kashur had a bigger fish on his line. If Kenji didn’t drop the crystal soon, the stubborn Sentinel was going to asphyxiate.

Let go already, you over-muscled lug!

Finally Kenji dropped the crystal. It hung in the air like a dandelion seed as Kashur halted the spell, watching as Kenji staggered backward, coughed, and recovered, straightening to full height.

“Is His Majesty convinced?” The tiniest smile played on the Alchemist’s lips.

Kenji’s glare was freshly sharpened. Leaning down, he muttered into the Emperor’s latticed slot, then cleared his throat as he stood. “His Majesty the Emperor suggests that we allow the Wizards to take charge of this new magic. For now.”

The Alchemist’s smile loosened and he bobbed his head in a short nod. “What say you, Dwarves?”

“Gloombriar Conclave agrees,” said a thick-browed Dwarf. “We’ve no need for magic. Never have.”

His white-bearded neighbor chimed in. “Icevein Conclave as well.”

“Obsidianhold Conclave does, too, for the purposes of studying this new magic,” said the Dwarf with the frostbitten finger, now healed.

The Deeplow Conclave delegates nodded, and Mol Morin turned his attention to the final foursome, including the thin Dwarf with the sticky fingers. “And you, Silverkeep Conclave? May I assume you’ll make it unanimous?”

A Dwarf with an emerald loop in her nose rose. “Silverkeep Conclave concurs with our brother and sister Dwarves.”

But her short-bearded counterpart with the headlamp popped to his feet and cried out, “No!”