Our next destination as part of my involvement with the coup d’état preparations led us to the Nikt’un district. The half-submerged noble district was also the historical military section of the city, as not too long ago, the concept of the army didn’t exist. The nation was just protected by the private armies of the Noble Houses.

So, it wasn’t surprising when our gondola stopped before a heavily armed building. Watchtowers, guards, walls... but most importantly, a brutalist aspect. One could know this wasn’t the mansion of some nobles because it traded vanity for utility. Still, it was an ellari building and it persisted to have more than enough unnecessary decorations. When I said brutalist, I meant ‘ellari brutalism’.

“Where are we?” I asked Fynn once we had left the gondola.

The man looked incredibly imposing from behind. A tall ellari of perfect posture, jet-black military uniform, and impossible power.

“We are on Shin’akt.” He responded keeping his head forward. “This is the military coordination center, and whilst there hasn’t been any summoning, we’ll meet with some of our... supporters. They will appreciate the information we bring with us.”

“Understood.” I nodded, trying to act in my soldier persona. Which was a bit complicated considering I had no training whatsoever.

I blame this on my rapid promotion because I was a supposed mage of the tenth star and a member of the Vanguard Order no one had taught me about military proceedings. They just expected me to know them.

Which I did not.

At least I had learned some military tactics from Sheel, Sergeant Shyz, and that other dude whose name I didn’t remember and didn’t even want to Recall.

We walked down the gondola stop, multiple guards inspecting us, but none dared to stop us. To my knowledge, there were only three types of military uniforms. Lavender for the average soldier. Teal for more important ones (I didn’t know if that applied to only members of military orders or also to other positions like Sergeants, because once again, no one taught me). And Black for the highest positions. In this case, Command Sergeant and Command Sergeant Major, Amira too wore one like Fynn’s.

With this, I meant that having two soldiers walking down with a black and teal uniform implied that they meant business.

With as much as a look, the guards on the gates let us through into the walls. Most people inside wore lavender uniforms, but there were certainly more teal ones than in Lan’el.

It wasn’t until we proceeded into the main building in the center, which was surrounded by training grounds with soldiers sparring and aerial watchtowers, that we finally saw another uniform color.

Black.

A deep purple woman stood before us wearing a jet-black uniform. Unlike Fynn, she looked old. Perhaps around the three-hundred-year mark. Yet nowhere as decrepit as Au’ter had been.

“Ah, Albeyr you finally made it.” She sang with a crispy voice. “Tell me, do you bring good news?”

“I do, indeed.” Fynn nodded.

“Perfect.” She smiled cunningly. “That will calm the nerves of the others. But tell me, who’s your escort?”

“Command Sergeant Major Sharpglass, this is Private Nightfallen. Private Nightfallen, this is Command Sergeant Major Sharpglass.” As expected, the woman named Sharpglass, shared Fynn’s rank.

“A Private?” Sharpglass said with disdain.

“Worry not,” Fynn added his own cutting tone, “Private Nightfallen is the newest member of my order. And you know I don’t accept anyone.”

“I see.” Those words seemed to calm the woman down. “Anyways, we should not waste more time with presentations, people are waiting for us.”

The farther we went into the building, the fancier it became. The austerity of the outside was quickly substituted by the lavish characteristic of the ellari. Purple carpets, golden engraving, turquoise curtains (even though we were on an inner corridor), it was clear the average Private wasn’t allowed to step into these halls.

We entered a room where more prominent figures awaited. Two other more soldiers clad in black uniforms.

“Oh, you finally have made it, Albeyr.” A pink man commented.

“Were you successful in your enterprise?” A blue woman asked.

“Yes, Kryol,” Fynn responded to the woman. “Let us sit, then we talk.”

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“What about that soldier?” The pink man pointed at me with a sway of his head.

“He’s the one that captured the spy a few weeks ago,” Fynn explained as he sat in front of a colossal rectangular table littered with papers. “He knows about everything, Junai.”

Junai and Kryol. I made a mental note about the names of the other Command Sergeant Majors.

We were five mages in the room, and we all were of the eleventh star. At some point, this amount of power stopped fazing one. We were more than enough to reduce a country to ashes. It was easy to forget the power of someone who reached the eleven-star.

The table was mostly occupied by a highly detailed map of Ferilyn at a scale I had never seen. Three big red circles were drawn on the map. One on the Lan’el military perimeter, another here in the Shin’akt at Nikt’un, and the last one on Mor’soi, the mining district.

Another circle, in this case a black one, was drawn on the center of the map at the Sin’fal district. It was highlighting the garrisons near the Arcane Sanctum.

One didn’t have to be proficient in warcraft to understand what the simple marks meant.

“We have sat down.” The man, Junai, said. “Now, what do you have to offer to us.”

“Au’ter has revealed to us a tradition we can use to overthrow the High Arcanist, the ish’mat’era.” Fynn narrated as he put his arms on top of the table. “The tradition consists of a Minister of the Arcane Sanctum and a head of a Noble House selecting a champion to duel the High Arcanist and take over their position.”

“Ish’mat’era, you say? I have never heard about it.” Sharpglass, the purple woman said. “As the eldest of the Command Sergeant Majors, it seems a bit farfetched that such important clausulae existed without me knowing it.”

“It’s an old ‘tradition’,” Fynn added. “According to Au’ter, it’s as old as the founding of Ferilyn, and it has only ever been invoked once before in all of history.”

“Hmm...” Kryol, the blue woman, grunted. “If it has had such limited use, how can we be sure that it will work? Can't the High Arcanist just deny it?”

“Au’ter didn’t seem to think so. His only doubt is how we could get a head of a Noble House to agree.”

“Well, that won’t be that difficult will it?” Junai snickered. “Kryol here is the sister of the current head of the Kryol House. And wasn’t your girl the daughter of the head of the Kalyd House?”

“Don’t call her ‘my girl’,” Fynn grunted.

“Relax, I don’t intend to offend anyone, Ceaseless Storm.”

Wait, what? Is Amira the daughter of a head’s house? She... she certainly didn’t look like it. Though my experience with nobles had been rather... uncommon. That would certainly explain why her soul was that pure though... No one would be untainted by death and corruption unless they had lived protected their whole life from the outside world and its darkness.

And technically, everyone here was, in a way, the heads of their own houses. The founders of all other Noble Houses had been mages of the eleventh star and above, after all.

“If it’s a duel,” Kryol said, “then it would be easy to assume you would be our champion, Albeyr.”

“That was my intention, yes.” He nodded.

“We all can agree on the Ceaseless Storm’s combat prowess,” Sharpglass commented. “But that still leaves us with an issue. Where are we going to get the support of a Minister?”

The room felt silent in ponderation.

“Could... could I give a suggestion?” I spoke cautiously.

“Speak, Private,” Fynn commanded.

“Au’ter suggested we talked with the Ministers of Education or Agriculture,” I explained. “This, he only told me, but he believes that the minister of Agriculture will help as he is his acquaintance. Though the only thing Au’ter said about the Minister of Education is that she hated the High Arcanist fervently, to the point she had asked Au’ter to step up once more as the High Arcanist.”

“Who are the current Ministers of Agriculture and Education? I fear I have become too dislodged from politics as of late.” Sharpglass asked, though that made me inquire how much was that ‘late’ she was talking about. Ellari's time perception couldn’t exactly be trusted.

“I do not know; he didn’t say any names,” I responded.

“If I recall correctly,” Kryol, the blue woman, intervened, “the current minister of Agriculture is a naturalist from San’ner, a Dai Nagor, I think his name was. And the minister of Education... hmm, her name is beyond me. But she’s a mentalist. It was something like Kryz? Kurai? Ki, ki... it was ki something.”

“Kirielle?” Junai commented with a bored expression.

“Yeah, Kirielle!” Kryol fisted the table. “That’s the one.”

Mentalist. Education. Kirielle. My mouth dropped to the ground and my eyes shot wide open upon hearing those words.

“Is something wrong, Private Nightfallen?” Command Sergeant Major Sharpglass asked me.

“Emm, nothing ma’am. It’s just that I may be an acquaintance of Kirielle’s.” Surprise was exhibited in my voice. “Maybe she’s another person though. Do you know where she works? Is she a healer? And of the eleventh star?”

“Well, I’m not an expert on internal affairs and politics, but that sounds about right,” Kryol confirmed.

Oh.

Kirielle is a goddamned Minister. How in the Lady’s name have I just discovered this? A mind healer, the minister of Education, and an eleven-star mage. Is there something that woman can’t do?

“Well, that does certainly ease things.” Junai, the pink man, sounded amused. “We have a minister, some candidates for head of a Noble House, and the strongest soldier as our champion.”

“We don’t know if Private Nightfallen’s acquaintance will accept,” Kryol interjected. “But I guess it would be easy to convince my sister to accept the ish’mat’era. I will look into Dai Nagor, just in case this Kirielle doesn’t accept.”

“Kryol, please do so,” Fynn said. “We will need to have many redundancies. We have seen that High Arcanist’s intrigue runs deep, a single plan won’t cut it. I’ll do the same and ask Command Sergeant Major Kalyd for her father’s support. And even if I do believe in my expertise in battle, we cannot rule out that I am defeated in the ish’mat’era. En’yen is the only mage of the twelfth star alive, let’s not forget that. I do not want to be negative, but we have to plan around my demise and continue with the coup d’état.”

“I agree.” Sharpglass nodded. “Whilst the ish’mat’era is certainly a boon that can help us remove En’yen from the political landscape without shedding much blood, we must not forgo the planning of the coup. Time is of the essence, if the Ceaseless Storm were to fall in combat, we would only have a few hours before the High Arcanist finally declares his war.”

“When’s the projected deadline?” Junai asked.

“The anniversary of the second decade of the Wyrm’s Landing,” Fynn responded with grim seriousness. “Half a season from now.”

Fifty days.

Fifty days until the High Arcanist makes his declaration of war.