Marshal Leopold's words clearly didn’t sit well with the audience, as I saw multiple people around the table make faces. In particular, the Sculpted in the room seemed most upset. One of them, which seemed to be made of gold of all things, nearly jumped to his feet before being restrained by another, less ostentatiously crafted Sculpted.

The Marshal paid no attention to them, merely focusing his attention on Grey.

Grey spoke first, though. “In what way? Even in my…absence, I heard of a battle that occurred near the Duchy of Helstein that went poorly for our forces. Surely one lost battle hasn’t spelled doom for the entirety of the Uprising.”

Leopold grimaced. “Normally, you would be correct. While we were pushed back in the Battle of Helstein, we didn’t suffer a decisive defeat. However, we were sent reeling, and elements of the Loyalist intelligence forces took advantage of that chaos. They chose that moment to strike directly at the heart of the Uprising. Our support from the Nobility.”

That didn’t sound good.

“They must have been waiting for the perfect opportunity,” The Marshal continued. “Because in an operation that must have taken months of planning, hostile operatives struck simultaneously across the Kingdom. They didn’t choose to assassinate our backers, no. That would have merely emboldened their successors. Instead, these operatives chose to kidnap the children and heirs of every sympathetic hand that was outstretched to us. Since that time, the Loyalists have been holding these children hostage against the Nobility to keep them from supporting us. The knock-on effects have been costly for the Uprising.”

Grey furrowed his brow. “I had thought the amount of forces gathered here was thin.” I gave him a side-eye at that. That huge gathering of soldiers outside the wall was considered thin? Grey leaned forward in his huge chair. “Do we know where they’re being held? Surely, attempts at rescue have been considered.”

Grey’s words caused an uncomfortable stir to sweep through the room. Looking around, I saw plenty of faces that looked like they were either apocalyptically angry, or in the depths of despair.

Leopold took a deep breath. “Our efforts to locate these hostages recently paid off. Since then, however…we’ve been at a standstill. It turns out, the Loyalist leadership decided to place them in the most well-defended and simultaneously horrific place in the Kingdom they could. The island prison of Caer Drarrow.”

Grey’s head reeled back as if he had been struck. “Unconscionable,” He said in shock, before furrowing his brow in genuine anger. “These up-jumped peacocks would dare to place children in those halls? In the very prison that I designed to contain classers?”

“We didn’t think they would stoop so low, either,” Leopold answered soberly. “Which is why it took our agents so long to discover where they were.”

Grey drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. “Where is the High King in all of this? Surely, he wouldn’t have approved of such a course of action?”

“He hasn’t been seen in months,” One of the bystanders seated around the table answered. Flicking my eyes in that direction, I saw that it was an older, grey-haired man dressed in rich blue clothing. His drooping face was etched in a pained frown. “We…think that he might be…” He trailed off.

“Dead.” Leopold finished for him grimly.

A tense silence descended on the room.

“Dead?” Grey said, shocked. “How? Surely these ‘Loyalists’ wouldn’t actually turn on the King they’re supposed to be championing?”

Another richly dressed man around the table snorted in disgust. “It depends on which King.” He said bitterly. This one was…kind of fat, and dressed in browns and reds.

Leopold nodded. “The problem is that Prince Alaric, King Otto’s heir apparent, has decided to back the Loyalists. We believe that he’s working with them in order to secure the throne. However, it’s odd. They haven’t announced the King’s death, even though we strongly believe His Majesty has passed. If they did, Alaric could easily ascend to the throne. Instead, Alaric has been dividing the royal family by turning on his younger brother’s faction. Prince Oskar has been vocally supportive of the Uprising, to an extent.”

“Extent is right.” The fat noble said sourly. “Oskar supports the idea of Sculpted personhood, but not to the extent of rebellion. Still, that’s apparently enough for Alaric to turn on him. From what we’ve heard, the capital is on the verge of exploding into a third side in the war. Oskar is well-loved by his supporters. Still, we can’t act on it. Alaric’s Loyalists have a knife to our children’s throats.”

“Which is why we’re relieved to see you returned, Headmaster,” The droopy noble from earlier said to Grey. “You constructed the Prison, and we were hoping you knew a way to bypass its defenses in order to free our heirs.”

“Not only that,” Leopold interjected. “But certain members of our leadership have, unfortunately, been captured as well. We believe that they’re being held at Caer Drarrow as well.”

Grey sighed. “Who have they captured?”

At that, the gold sculpted from earlier burst from his chair. “They have Rick! They have him, I know they do!” He shouted in a flanging voice.

Leopold rounded on the shouting Sculpted. “Control yourself, Aurum.” He growled. “You are not the only one to be missing comrades,” Under the Marshal’s glower, the golden Sculpted man sunk back into his chair, chastised. Leopold turned back to Grey. “It is as he says, Grand Marshal. It is believed that the Loyalists captured the current leader of the Sculpted, Woodrick. However, we’re unsure. He simply disappeared one night from the Sculpted camp, with no one the wiser. That…” Leopold hesitated for a moment. “That, however, hasn’t been our greatest loss.”

Grey raised an eyebrow at Leopold. “What could have happened that was worse than losing the elected leader of an entire people?”

“In your absence,” Leopold started slowly. “The Academy was left leaderless. Shortly after your disappearance, the proper succession of command took place, with your Deputy Headmistress assuming your duties. She was allowed to remain at her post in an uneasy agreement of enforced neutrality with the Loyalists, until the Battle of Helstein. In the aftermath, and when the abductions took place, many of the children and heirs that were taken were within the walls of the Academy. The Deputy Headmistress objected to this. Strongly. However, she was overpowered by the force sent to secure the children, and captured as well. We believe Lady Honoka has been interned at Caer Drarrow as well.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I heard Sylvia gasp softly in surprise. But that wasn’t what caught my attention the most.

During Leopolds explanation, the room began to darken gradually in a familiar way. By the time the Marshal was finished, there was a visible shadow in the room. Glancing down at Grey, I saw what I was expecting. Grey was furious, face twisted in rage at what he was hearing.

“These fools think to strike directly at my Academy, do they,” Grey seethed. “They will come to regret their decisions, I promise you. Leopold, correct me if I’m wrong, but the primary instigators behind the Loyalist faction are Lords Rosberry, Valeard, Graden, and Olsen, correct?”

Marshal Leopold was unphased at the environmental display of might. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the room, many of whom looked unsettled. “You are correct, Grand Marshal. After your disappearance, those Lords were the ones who exacerbated the situation. Were they also the ones who…facilitated your absence?”

Grey took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. The lighting in the room returned to normal, to the visible relief of its inhabitants. “I suspect so, though I was not held by any of them. Rather, I was held in a location within Principality borders by a group that is…no longer of any concern. Incidentally, I suspect that the Loyalists have had some degree of dwarven support.”

“What?” A noble said, this time a woman dressed in white. “The dwarves are interfering in the war? Who was it?”

“To a degree, I suspect so,” Grey said carefully. “However, if my suspicions are correct, then that support has likely ended with my escape. At the moment, we have bigger things to worry about than the Principality.” He blatantly ignored the question of who had actually been holding him, which confused me a little and definitely irritated the woman.

“And who are they?” She said sharply, gesturing towards me and Azarus. I stiffened, feeling the attention of the room fall in our direction. It wasn’t hostile attention, but people were definitely curious about our presence. Leopold in particular had an assessing glint in his eyes. “They are dressed in your colors and bear your mark, but we have not seen them before. I cannot help but find these individuals suspicious.”

Grey smiled slightly at the noble, unperturbed. “Why, these are the people that helped me escape, Lady Turnold,” He said, causing a stir in the room. “If not for their support, I’m unsure if I would have managed it myself. You see, in order to keep me imprisoned, I was affixed with a slave brand and collar.”

The room exploded into outraged shouts at that. Marshal Leopold put a stop to that, however, by slamming his gauntleted hand down onto the table with a thunderous crash. That worked to silence the room. “Quiet,” He growled. “Let the Grand Marshal speak.”

“Thank you, Leopold,” Grey dipped his head at him. “As I was saying, I was inflicted with the curse of slavery. However, this young man,” He said, gesturing to me. “Successfully devised a method of breaking the slave bond with my tutelage. I have chosen to take him as my personal apprentice”

There was an audible intake of breath at that. This time, the gazes that were sent my way were tinged with astonishment and awe. I flushed at the attention. Though, I also felt a familiar tingle run down my spine. I repressed a smirk. Yeah, you try and Observe me. I’d been keeping my Status completely concealed since we escaped Addersfield, not even letting my name show.

I guess nobles didn’t care about how rude it was to just Observe someone out of nowhere.

The woman in white wasn’t finished, however. “And the dwarf?” She said, gesturing to Azarus skeptically. “You just finished saying that you were imprisoned by dwarves, and yet one stands at your side?”

Grey met her eyes across the table calmly. “Yes. This particular dwarf risked a great deal and lost even more to help facilitate my escape. I will not hear a word said against him. Understood?” His last word was said with a sense of finality.

The woman was unperturbed by Grey’s heavy tone, but seemed satisfied nonetheless. She inclined her head at Grey slightly and sat back in her chair.

The table was silent for a moment before Grey broke it. “Returning to our next course of action, yes. Yes, I do believe I can free both our comrades and the children from Caer Drarrow. There are certain aspects to the wards of the prison that will recognize my presence and grant me access. However,” He said to the now electrified room. “I will require some time to recover from my ordeal and to assemble the tools I need for such an expedition.”

That deflated the mood a little. I think some of these nobles expected Grey to immediately charge out of the room like some kind of heroic storybook character to go rescue their children.

“Only a few days, however. A week at the most. Then I intend to depart Hollow Hill once again. This time, for Caer Drarrow.” Grey finished grimly.

……………………………………..

“So,” I said to Grey. “Are we going with you?”

It was later that night, and the meeting was over. After it, Grey and his followers, which included me I suppose, had followed him up to the third floor of the tower. Apparently, those were where the actual living quarters started. Thankfully, everything past the second floor had been left untouched by the chaos of the Uprising planning. People had actually respected Sylvia’s wish that they stay on the first two floors.

It was me, Grey, Azarus, and Sylvia sitting up here for now. Illuvia had left to report to the Marshal, while Venix had wandered off…somewhere. I’d retrieved Fade from Walter, so he was sitting in my lap as well, trying to see up over the lip of the table we were gathered around. Well, that or trying to get the scraps off of my dinner plate. We’d actually just finished eating dinner when I spoke up. I scooted my plate closer to the edge of the table so Fade could reach it. He enthusiastically set into the scraps of poultry left on the plate, even though he had just been fed earlier.

Glutton.

While I was playing with my pup, Grey had finished wiping his mouth with a cloth. “Coming with me? Do you perchance mean to Caer Drarrow?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

I leaned back in my chair. “Yup. Are we?” I said, gesturing to the rest of the table. Azarus was nursing a beer of some kind, watching the conversation with a raised brow.

Sylvia meanwhile was meticulously clearing off her plate of food as well. It had actually surprised me to learn that Sculpted needed to eat every once in a while as well. Not as often as us organics did, but it was still helpful to them in some way. Something about Aether input? Apparently, as part of their design, they had one of those dissipating runes in their ‘stomach’ that I saw used mostly for…toilets. Organic material was the most efficient source of dissipated material for them, so that was why Sculpted still ate the same things we did. They could get by with just about anything, though. Some even preferred eating things like raw stone or tree bark, from what I’d been told. But they could actually taste what they were eating at the time, so most of them preferred an actual meal.

Grey hummed. “I suspect Sylvia is,” He exchanged a nod with his daughter when she looked up at the mention of her name. “And Azarus could accompany us as well, if he desires. Venix will insist, in his own way, on coming along. I’ll need to acquire the services of a healer as well. Perhaps Preceptor Eduard? The nature of this mission means that it will need to be a small strike group to get in and out quickly.” He mused, before shaking his head and looking at me. “But, well, you Nathan…”

Azarus spoke up before he could. “Yer a bit low-level, Nate.” He said bluntly, before taking a drink of his booze.

Grey winced but nodded. “You are…slightly under-leveled for such an expedition.”

“Yeah, but I can punch above my weight class with my racials,” I said, unbothered. It was the truth, anyway. I was the lowest level person at this table by far at thirty-two. Azarus was somewhere around one-fifteen, I think Sylvia was around ninety, and Grey of course was in his fucking seven-hundreds. “Plus, Aetherial Melding is a pretty great multi-tool if it comes down to it.”

Grey nodded slowly. “That is true. If you insist, Nathan…then you may accompany us.”