Chapter XII
Given that the assault on Harunhein would not begin for six months, none of the significant members of the Kosah-Rei had yet to depart Ankalla, but that wasn’t to say preparations were not being put in place. Three battalions of Teeth had already been sent to the Great Northern City to infiltrate it and close the distance between Hellistoir and the cult in order to make communication more efficient. From what Keskivaara knew, Martov would make for the Trovian capital, work out the finer details with King Amund, then return to Harunhein and await Tali’s forces. However, since Trovia would be supplying the bulk of the attack force, Tali had decided to only send Rotana Vesh and Quill Tyrus, leaving the other four, as well as Keskivaara himself, back at Ankalla to prepare for a second, simultaneous operation: The capital city of Erika and the great white tower that was the Citadel.
This was Tali Firrik’s true goal. She sought to use Harunhein as a distraction to split up the Masters of Ijiria and make Erika vulnerable to Kosah-Rei infiltration. Though she hadn’t hadn’t said as much to Keskivaara, he knew she was relying on her visions of Ilirianna Iiji’s future—that rather than conquering Erika, she would create a situation where Ilirianna succeeded Markreas and claimed the throne. With Harunhein fallen, Erika under Ilirianna’s control, and Hiriech and Stellareid far from the heights they reached before the cult’s emergence, a victory for the Kosah-Rei truly seemed to loom on the horizon.
So why do I feel so uneasy? Why does it feel like there’s something more going on?
The plan seemed foolproof, and it was well-known that Tali didn’t take action if she hadn’t seen their success in the future, so there shouldn’t have been much to worry about. They would use Leiolai’s magic to disguise herself, Tali, Uma, Barron, and Keskivaara, then work their way into Erika, putting themselves in place and ideally infiltrating not the Citadel, but the market—an area far less regulated when it came to checking for biological magic. If they could go undercover as prominent merchants and guild masters, they could perfectly position themselves for the chaos that would follow in the wake of Harunhein’s loss. They had the Teritus, they had Barron’s armor, they had Keskivaara’s strength, they had Leiolai’s changeling magic, they had Quill’s durability, yet even so, the People’s Mind felt sick and anxious.
What’s wrong with me? Am I really getting cold feet now, after all this time—after all I’ve done? Stop working yourself up, Rickori. The Kosah-Rei have never led you astray, so why would they start now?
He felt a hand touch his and fingers intertwine with his own, a comforting touch that caused his racing heart to settle down. Keskivaara smiled, clutching the man’s hand tightly and turning a warm, grateful smile to Velanor, who walked beside him as they made their way through the corridors of Ankalla, towards the dining hall.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“Of course, but are you okay, Riko? You look a bit pale.”
Keskivaara nodded. “As okay as I can be, Vel. I think I’m just a bit hungry, so I wouldn’t worry much about it.”
“Oh please,” Velanor said with a sly chuckle. “I know what you’re like when you’re just hungry, and this isn’t it. You’re worried about something, and I don’t think it takes a genius of your stature to deduce what. You’re afraid of the coming battles.”
God, he always reads me so well…though in this case, perhaps it’s an obvious conclusion given the events of the recent weeks.
“Yes, I am,” he conceded, deciding that trying to deny it would just be pointless. “But why wouldn’t I be? There’s a lot at stake, and it’s the biggest move that Firrik has agreed on since Stellareid. If it works, we win. If it fails, then I don’t think the Kosah-Rei recovers. My gut tells me this is the decisive strike…and while normally, I would like to put my full faith into Firrik’s visions the way the others do, my Stellareid-forged mind simply struggles with blindly following the word of a self-proclaimed prophet, no matter how many times I may see her predictions come to fruition.”
Velanor smirked irritably, taking a second to check over his shoulder as if fearing they would be overheard. “Well, I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t subscribe to her prophet-nonsense whatsoever. The evidence isn’t concrete enough, and I do believe that her ‘predictions’ about the Battle of Stellareid were created by her. I think she put pieces in place, got lucky that her plans panned out, and gloated about being able to see the future. Rei’s Voice my ass… She’s more like a very clever conwoman.”
Keskivaara wholeheartedly agreed, for he had never believed in the Goddess Rei, nor was he particularly sure Tali did. He couldn’t quite say the same for the other five, but Tali Firrik gave him a nasty feeling he was never able to shake away. There was something behind those bright eyes and that cute voice and her innocent demeanor that he could just barely make out. There was intelligence within her, a mind that was plotting something that she never put to words—like there was more to her role in the Kosah-Rei than even Vesh or Leiolai understood. He felt like he had ropes tied around his limbs, and Tali was controlling them to make him dance.
Who was she?
Where did she come from?
What were her true motivations behind forming this cult?
And why did nobody ever question it?
Perhaps it’s because they always win? Why question Firrik when she pulled off Hiriech and Stellareid with her only casualty being the young Malloway boy? Even if the others do suspect she’s hiding something, perhaps they don’t care. Perhaps I don’t care, for as much as I’m uncomfortable around her, I’m still standing here in this fortress, prepared to go to war under her banner. Maybe it’s just as simple as that…
Keskivaara and Velanor arrived at the wide open door of the private dining hall on the fourth level a few minutes later, and given that it was three hours past the time the others usually ate, they had assumed it would be empty the way it always was. In fact, the reason they had dinner so late was to avoid unnecessary interactions with the cultists, so they couldn’t help coming to a sudden stop when they found a single person sitting quietly at the head of the long, rectangular table, his fork absently spinning around a plate of tomato-sauced noodles. For a second, he didn’t seem to realize anybody had entered, and it was only when Velanor greeted him that he glanced up.
“You’re here quite late, Miyon.”
Uma’s bespectacled features returned to reality, as if he had snapped himself out of whatever reverie he’d been in before turning his dark eyes first upon Velanor then to Keskivaara standing silently beside the blonde man.
“Ah, yes, I suppose I am,” Uma replied with a humorless laugh. “You see, I fell asleep for an unintended nap around my typical dinner time, and as such, I have had to alter my routine. I hope my presence doesn’t bring you discomfort, Mr. Kinrono, for I know the two of you quite despise our presence.”
Velanor snorted. “Well, it’s not like we can just kick you out, now can we?”
“No, I don’t suppose you can.”
Uma’s grin widened even further, his words addressing Velanor but his attention never shifting from Keskivaara, who remained standing in the doorway with his own eyes on Uma even when his husband moved to approach the tables of food lining the right-hand side of the room.
Uma Miyon. Keskivaara spoke his name in the privacy of his mind. Setting Firrik aside, I think he’s the one I understand the least. An Omaruan who stumbled upon a realm dagger and jumped to Ijiria, only to take up arms against the government under Firrik’s name. Why? What stake did he have in any of this? For what reason does he fight for a country he has no history with? Why risk his life pulling off stunts like the one he took part in at Stellareid for somebody like Tali Firrik? This man is a walking mystery to me…
“Riko? You alright?” Velanor inquired when he realized Keskivaara hadn’t followed him.
Uma raised his eyebrows with intrigue, seemingly sensing the many questions roiling within the People’s Mind. “May I help you, Doctor Keskivaara? That look on your face tells me there’s something bothering you.”
“I…? No, don’t worry about it,” he answered, then made his way over to where Velanor had already filled two plates with pasta, bread rolls, and some green beans.
The man handed one over to him and together, the two took their seats on the right side of the table, as far from Uma as they could place themselves. This was intended as a silent means of telling the magicless man that they had little interest in conversing with him, but whether Uma missed the hint or simply didn’t care was uncertain, for he attempted to spark up discussion anyway.
“You know, Keskivaara, I think it’s a pity you and I have never sat down for a chat,” he mused. “I’ll have you know, I did some research of my own in Stellareid for a time, though it wasn’t officially sponsored by Lord Cartigan or any of the Companies. Instead, Sartella used some changeling magic and we infiltrated a lab to research a rather fascinating specimen we acquired. Naturally, we didn’t linger there for long, but I certainly developed an attachment to the City of Starlight, so much so that I honestly tried to oppose the attack.” Uma laughed softly to himself. “And one does not live in Stellareid without hearing the name Rickori Keskivaara.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would,” the People’s Mind said between bites of food, keeping his tone disinterested in a second attempt to tell Uma he didn’t want to talk.
Nevertheless, the other man continued. “You’re a brilliant and mysterious person who I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on. You were thriving among the elites of Stellareid, your parents and your own work may have even solved the riddle of space travel, but then you left. You turned your back on everything, then came back as a magical powerhouse on Ilirianna Iiji’s level that stood beside the people. Why?”
Keskivaara paused in his meal, a chunk of bread grasped in his hand that he gazed at rather than looking towards Uma. It was a natural question, and as he continued to marvel at how little he understood the Kosah-Rei, it suddenly occurred to him that he must have had a similar effect on them. The mystery of Rickori Keskivaara was known only by himself, for not even Velanor or his close friends back in Stellareid had ever been told where he went, who trained him, or why he suddenly decided to be an activist. Naturally, rumors and speculation had correctly identified the deaths of his parents as being the initial spark, but that was where it ended. Yet, if he wouldn’t tell Velanor then he certainly wouldn’t tell Uma.
“Why indeed?” he grunted. “Who’s to say, really? And I think it’s rather rude to demand the life story of somebody without first sharing your own.”
Uma chuckled. “Would you like to hear mine? I’m more than willing to tell you.”
“No.” Keskivaara gave a blunt response before finally taking a bite of his bread, and since the magicless man still hadn’t said anything by the time he washed it down with water, the man added, “I can’t say I’m not curious, but I have no intention of telling you anything about me, so it would be wrong to ask anything of you.”
“I disagree,” Uma stated. “This need not be a transaction, Keskivaara. I have nothing to hide, and if sharing my motivations with you can earn more trust from you, then I’d consider it a fair deal.”
Again, the People’s Mind hesitated, for it was true that he wanted to hear more about Uma, but he also didn’t want to appear anxious for information, so he decided he would simply say, “Well, I can’t exactly force you to shut up, so if you want to tell a tale as background noise to my meal, go right ahead.”
He could feel the man’s eyes on him, soon followed by the clinking of his fork as he set it down on the table. “There’s a genre of novels in Omaruo known as ‘fantasy’,” he began, an odd opening in Keskivaara’s opinion. “Oh, it’s a wonderful type of story that I read all the time as a child, a teenager, and even well into my adult life when I had the rare opportunity. It tells of magic, heroes and villains, dragons and orcs, kings and queens… Oftentimes, there will be a quest for an unsuspecting protagonist tasked with defeating the dark lord and saving the realm from evil! Sometimes, even, this protagonist comes from a normal world such as mine—a boring world. They’re swept away by fate or by the gods and told they are the chosen one.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Keskivaara frowned, exchanging an uncertain look with Velanor, who interrupted the story to comment, “There’s a genre like that? I mean, aside from the fairy tale nonsense, it just sounds like Ijiria. Magic and kings and the like…”
“You’re right, Mr. Kinrono,” Uma said. “It’s suspiciously similar to the point that I’ve theorized the genre may have been started by an Ijirian. Regardless, it’s not a perfect comparison. Dragons are rare here, there’s no dark lord or prophecy—no orcs as far as I know, and mostly humans everywhere north of the deep Noranian south. Even so, while it may be far from perfect, I love it with all my heart. How I dreamed all my life of one day being swept up into a heroic tale and putting the real world behind me. I had these wishes as a child, they started to pass later, and then as an adult, they came back even stronger than ever. Adulthood was boring, tedious, and my life was unsatisfying. There was no meaning to my existence… Nobody was benefiting from my existence, not even me. I kept reading those books, getting absorbed in them, hoping beyond everything that there was some truth behind the pages. One story in particular caught my attention…”
He stopped for a moment, as if expecting Keskivaara or Velanor to interrupt again, but when neither made any move to do so, Uma huffed at his disappointing audience and went on.
“‘The Eye of God’, it was called. The protagonist, a young college-aged man, is suddenly killed one day by a runaway truck, sending him to an early afterlife. But rather than merely dying, he finds himself before a god, who tells him that he has been given a second chance at life so long as he uses it to defeat the dark lord, Antarok, who’s terrorizing the peaceful realm of Neverash. Driven by duty, a sense of adventure, and the natural desire to keep on living, the protagonist accepts. All things considered, I didn’t see him as anything special. He’s your generic lead, with his honor and charisma and, well, plot-armor. No, I don’t think I would have continued reading if the concept didn’t improve from there, but he had a companion that I was absolutely riveted by! An alchemist who he meets in the town he spawns in—a man named Uma Miyon.”
Despite himself, Keskivaara couldn't deny there was some intrigue behind where Uma was going with all this long-winded setup, so when he spoke those last few words, the man couldn’t help sitting up straighter and finally turning his eyes away from dinner and towards the storyteller.
“Uma Miyon…was a character in a book? Is that not your name then?”
Uma shook his head. “No, it is not. My real name is unremarkable, and you could probably find hundreds of people in my country with the exact same one. When I came to Ijiria, I decided I should have a name to match its magnificence, and thought I’d poach that of my favorite character. That trilogy got me through many months in Omaruo, and without the drive to learn just how it would end, I’m not so sure I would have survived long enough to know a world like this existed.”
“Why not?” Keskivaara inquired, annoyed that he was starting to get truly invested. “Were you sick…or…?”
Uma shrugged. “Some would say I was… But no, I was simply on the verge of ending my sorry existence—of walking up the rooftop of my apartment building and hurling myself over the side.”
“B-but…why?”
“I was lost,” the magicless man muttered. “My mother had passed away from cancer a few years before, I had no siblings, I struggled to make friends, I had no girlfriend, and I was wasting away in a dead-end job I hated with a burning passion. It honestly felt like I was going through the motions for no reason other than it was all I had left to do. And you know what my job was, Keskivaara? A janitor at the local museum.” Answering his own question before Keskivaara could even try, Uma’s tone turned angry and disgusted. “I always dreamed of being a scientist or a researcher, but instead, I spent my time cleaning crusty shit out of the toilets for a living… What a fucking life I lived… But…” The anger then abruptly vanished, his flashy tone from before returning as quickly as it had left. “Had I not been working at that exact place, I’d never be here.”
Once again, Keskivaara looked to Velanor, but it seemed his husband wasn’t quite as interested as he was, and based on the fact that the blonde man’s plate was empty, Keskivaara could tell that he just wanted to get up and leave. A part of the People’s Mind wondered if he should oblige him, but at this point, he was far too invested to not hear the end of Uma's story.
“There was a medieval exhibit that week,” Uma told them. “And one of the items on display was a blueish-green dagger that had been found by archaeologists in the tomb of an ancient king. It was one item among various treasures that had been buried with him and recovered by us. Knowing what I do now, the king was either one of the Realm Forgers, or had taken the dagger from one. Either way, I don’t know. What I do know is that, as I was getting ready to leave my shift, I noticed that the glass casing had been removed, but nobody was in sight. They were dismantling the exhibit that day, and I guess whoever was in charge had been called away for something after removing the glass. At that point, I was tired and bitter, and in a stroke of impulse that I cannot even explain now, I swiped it and ran.”
“You just stole it?” Keskivaara pressed. “Why?”
Uma smirked at his repetitive question. “Money maybe, I don’t know. Like I said, I just kinda did it. It was only once I returned home that the weight of my actions dawned on me…and I didn’t really care. The police would come after me, arrest me, but did it really change anything? I’d be trading one prison for another. I figured I was caught on camera and my time was limited, so I just started fiddling with the dagger, noticed a small ruby button—a button that wouldn’t press because of age and all the shit that built up in the creases. I wondered why it had never been properly cleaned out, but imagined that whoever found it feared damaging it and opted against it given how priceless it was. Thank Rei for that, cause if somebody else had cleaned that button before I, then they would have come to Ijiria instead. But I cleaned it, activated it, and found myself here… My dream come true…more or less…”
I suppose…if that’s all true, then I can see why he came to fight for Firrik… He’s trying to live out whatever fantasy he read about in those books of his, but Ijirian law dictates his erasure. Does he believe in Rei? Maybe… But I think he’s doing this just so he doesn’t have to go back…
“So why spill all of this now?” Velanor demanded after a few moments of silence. “Why tell us your life story so easily?”
Uma smiled. “Well, I may have told you sooner if the two of you weren’t so keen on avoiding us. And as for why I told you at all…” The magicless man then rose to his feet and stretched his arms into the air, his dark eyes locking onto Keskivaara through the lenses of his spectacles. “I suppose I’m laying the groundwork. I’d really like to hear your story someday, Keskivaara.”
The People’s Mind furrowed his brow. “I thought you said this wasn’t transactional. I told you, I have no interest in revealing that to any of you.”
“For now,” Uma responded. “And if my investment doesn’t pay off, then so be it. But, if there’s anything you can take away from this, it’s that you can say without a doubt I’ll fight until my last breath, sacrifice whatever I must sacrifice, to defeat the Citadel.” His expression then darkened, a bitter and hateful sneer turning his lips. “I have learned that my childhood dream is possible…
“…and I will never give it up willingly.”
***
Ever since the Battle of Stellareid, Leiolai Sartella had been attempting to further hone her changeling magic—to take her abilities to a level that surpassed even her already impressive skill. After all, for all the bluster about how special she was and how much of a prodigy she was, she was still unable to hold her own against her opponents the way she wished she could. Abigail Reiner ruthlessly kicked her ass in Soladnay Park, only to do so again barely a week later in the halls of Castle Saientia despite Leiolai having Uma as backup. Even at Hiriech, Leiolai only managed to kill Nyx Rana because she disguised herself as Abi and took her by surprise—a success that was swiftly destroyed by the monster that the Master of Water became. Leiolai couldn’t beat that creature, nor could she beat Abigail, so despite the constant victories that the Kosah-Rei had enjoyed over the years, the changeling found herself far from satisfied. She had never once been the victor of a significant battle, and she wanted to change that.
“It’s not something you need to worry about, Leio,” Tali had once told her when she expressed her feelings of inadequacy. “Your magic is one of the reasons we’ve been able to accomplish what we have. You don’t need to be a combatant. You’re perfect the way you are.”
Leiolai smiled, feeling a flutter of happiness in her stomach as she remembered Tali’s words, but at the same time, she hadn’t been able to accept them, replying with, “Yes, but imagine if I could fight back! We already have Quill, Barron, and Vesh near the level of the Masters, so imagine if I could begin to reach that level! It’s possible, Tali! Just listen to me for a second…”
She remembered the look of surprise as Leiolai revealed the ability she sought to learn—one that could allow her to go toe-to-toe with some of the Citadel’s most powerful warriors, and while she could tell that Tali was still concerned for her safety, she told her that if earning this was what she wanted, then she would support her. That conversation took place two years ago, and now, Leiolai Sartella had, for the first time, successfully mastered that particular transformation and returned to her usual form intact.
The changeling was crouched on her knees, her naked body bathed in sweat as she took deep breaths, her heart pounding in her chest from the exertion of both turning into the form she sought, and turning back into herself. She was alone down in the underground cellar directly beneath Ankalla. It was a massive room with a relatively high ceiling and a lot of empty space that, according to Tali, was once filled to the brim with shelves of wine and barrels of beer. Most of it had been removed and taken to various storerooms on the surface by Leiolai’s request so that she could have a large enough space to practice her biological magic. Now it was just a big empty space. There were a few doorways connected to it, with one leading back up to the castle and the others all a part of the interconnected tunnel system constructed as a means of escaping Ankalla secretly should the fortress ever come under siege.
Once she caught her breath, Leiolai reached up and adjusted her brown bangs, which were plastered to her forehead, before letting out a sigh of satisfaction. My goddess, I actually did it… Not even Lord Kelletos was ever able to successfully pull this one off… If he could see me now…
The thought of the man who trained her in biological magic made her feel both nostalgic and sad, for the old man had long since passed on into Rei’s embrace. She often imagined what he would say should he have lived long enough to see how powerful she became, and though she would have to wait until she, herself, entered Rei’s paradise in order to bear witness to it, she could still vividly imagine the expression of pride on his face as he watched her pull off one of the most challenging transformations known to the changelings. He always told her that he could count on one hand the number of mages in their Order that had ever been successful in all of their extensive history, which meant that if she ever were to return to home and reveal what she had done, her name would be immortalized for eternity.
That is…if they didn’t kill me the second I walked in the door, she bitterly mused, rising to her feet and absently glancing around to find her discarded clothes, only for her to come to a sudden stop when she noticed the individual quietly sitting against the wall beside the open doorway, watching her with a smile.
Leiolai smirked. “Didn’t realize I had an audience. Would it have killed you to announce your presence?”
“I did,” Tali told her with a shrug and a soft little giggle. “You just didn’t hear me, I guess. That being said…I see you’ve done it.”
Laughing, the changeling walked over to where Tali sat and reached down to retrieve the pile of clothes resting beside her. “I have. I actually have…so I’ll be ready for anything. Harunhein, Erika, wherever you need me stationed, Tali, I’ll be there…and I won’t go down so easily this time…”
The two fell silent as Leiolai dressed herself, but where normally, she and Tali could easily sit in a quiet like this comfortably, this particular instance felt different. In the dim firelight of the dungeon, she could just make out an apprehension in Tali’s youthful features, as if there was something she was there to discuss.
That makes sense… It’s nearly midnight, a time when I wouldn’t expect to see her wandering the corridors alone…but she knew I was down here, so I find it unlikely she’s just visiting. She must need something, but what would be so important that she couldn’t wait until morning? And for that matter, what could make her look so nervous and…scared?
Suddenly, a knot twisted at her stomach as her mind flashed back to a particular conversation she’d been trying not to think about—one she didn’t want to give any credibility to and that she could brush off as the paranoia of the others.
“Have any of you ever wondered whether or not Firrik would tell us about visions that don’t predict success?”
That was the question posed to them by Quill Tyrus, and Leiolai had been firm in her dismissal, arguing that Tali always knew best and that they should trust her regardless of the vision she had seen. Barron agreed, but Quill and Uma hadn’t been so easy to convince. From what Leiolai knew, the two of them had been debating how to broach the subject to Tali without angering or offending her, so unless they acted without Leiolai’s knowledge, that topic should still only be one shared between the four of them.
“Tali…?” Leiolai began, deciding that running around in mental circles wasn’t going to get her anywhere. As she had told Uma and Quill, she trusted the Voice of Rei, so if she wanted to know what was wrong, then all she had to do was ask. “Is something the matter? You look like you need to talk.”
Her eyes had grown distant, but when Leiolai asked this question of her, she instantly snapped back to the present, turning those fearful, innocent eyes up towards the changeling still standing before her. Her jaw tightened as she nervously licked her lips, her words not coming out even when her mouth opened to speak them. That was more than enough to terrify Leiolai, so she quickly added,
“You can tell me anything, you know? I promise… If something’s wrong, let me help you…”
But Tali just shook her head and lowered it. “No…” she uttered in a meek, barely audible voice. “There’s nothing you can do… But…you’re right, Leio. I do need to talk to you, and I need you to swear that what I’m about to say never leaves this room…”
Her voice turned intense there at the end, causing a shiver to run down Leiolai’s back. Nevertheless, despite being suddenly terrified of what was about to happen, she responded with all the confidence she could muster.
“I swear it on my life… Not a soul will hear a word from me.”