Chapter Forty Six
“I will only ever do it for me.”
That’s what Myra told her brother. What she told the Grand Priest. Told Mervil. She was lounging on her couch, the one she practically lived on. A blanket was laid upon her, and a pillow had been placed on the armrest, waiting to drag Mervil’s sister into the land of dreams. She claimed to only put forth effort for herself, and yet here she was, resisting the pillow’s pull for his sake.
“If you wish to be selfish, then take the job. The position of high priestess will be of great benefit to you.”
Mervil’s sister's expression was blank, and it stayed blank for several moments. Another man might have assumed she didn’t hear him, or was ignoring the statement, but he knew she was thinking. It took her longer than most to process her thoughts, and many thought that made her dumb. Mervil knew otherwise.
“Would the position be good for me? …Or for the high priestess?”
“You would become the high priestess that it would be good for.”
“…I suppose. Why would I help her though? She’s not me, not yet.”
Convincing Myra of anything was always a challenge, the way she thought was so wildly different from the norm that she almost didn’t seem like a person sometimes. She was though, you just had to see how she saw.
“You will change regardless of whether you take the position or not. Even if you do nothing but sleep, the world will move on around you, and you are not yet detached enough from it for it to not affect you. If you are going to die either way, don’t you at least want your successor to be a person and not a dream?”
“…Maybe. Who will I become if I say no?”
“A Myra who is not Mervil’s sister.”
She thought on that, a displeased expression on her face. Good. Mervil did not enjoy seeing her unhappy, but he needed her to care about this.
“…Threat? Or fact?”
“Fact. I won’t force you to do anything, but I have responsibilities, and I don’t have enough time to waste visiting you, hoping that you happen to be awake. I have even less time to spend trying to coax you into a semblance of social interaction. Siblings do not see each other only twice a year, and while you might stay the same in the time we don’t meet, I won’t. One day, you will find yourself talking to a stranger who took your brothers place. Our relationship will change, regardless of either of our wills.”
A blank stare was all he received in response.
I should’ve known it would take more than words to convince her. No matter what she hears, even if she accepts it as true, if it happens in the future, it simply doesn’t matter to her. I guess I will have to show her what has already happened.
“Myra, how old are you?”
Myra furrowed her brows and thought for far longer than any normal person would have to think to remember their age. Then, with a great deal of uncertainty, she answered.
“Thirty… six?”
“In a little over a month, you are turning forty-seven.”
To punctuate his point, Mervil took out a small hand mirror he had prepared exactly for this moment, and turned it towards his sister so she could see her own reflection.
“…Wrinkles… huh. I didn’t know I was old.”
And she did look old, or at least middle-aged. Her long, straight hair that went down to her ankles was still the same black it had always been, but her skin was less smooth and youthful, and she had a look of maturity that only the older got. She was naturally very pretty, but the large bags under her eyes and eternal bedhead did away with most of her beauty. The fact that she almost never wore makeup and had exactly one plain white dress that she wore didn’t help either. It was a blessing when her butler had it enchanted to always be clean.
“I am old too. Two years older than you, in case you forgot, I just hide it. One day, one of us is going to die. Actually die, not metaphorically, and when that happens, I don’t want us to be strangers.”
“That’s a problem for the future.”
“I could die today.”
Myra looked at Mervil in confusion, so he continued.
“I don’t have some incurable disease or anything, if that’s what you are wondering. But I am getting old, and I do have enemies. None bold enough to try assassinating me, but who knows how long that will last? I could play it safe and not ruffle any feathers, but I’m too powerful to waste my time making friends.”
“Sure… But you’re still stronger than them, right? If they try to kill you… just win.”
“I’m not stronger than everyone. Visia could kill me, her sister too, and there are plenty of people outside of the Celestial Empire that I wouldn’t want to face. I have gotten about as good as I will ever get at magic, but age isn’t something I can stop. Every year, the list of people who can kill me gets larger, and one day it will overlap with the list of people who actually want to do it.”
Another long pause, she was thinking. But Mervil knew that look on her face; she was thinking about the wrong thing.
“You… could become a lich. To not age. Or maybe… turn into an elf? Is that possible?”
“That’s not the point!” Mervil shouted. “You're not taking this seriously; we barely know each other anymore; you haven’t left your manor in months, and if I died tomorrow, I don’t know if you would attend my funeral!”
“I showed up to mothers.”
“You were late to mother's funeral, and you fell asleep halfway through. I would have forgiven you for that, but you didn’t feel guilty about it in the slightest. I refuse to die before you care enough about your own brother to cry for me at my funeral!”
Mervil was angry now; truth be told, he had been angry for a while. His sister didn’t deserve any of it he knew; she couldn’t control her affliction. But, he thought sometimes, how much of it was her fatigue?
“Ok.”
“Huh? Ok? Ok, what?”
“Ok I’ll do it… become the High Priestess.”
*
How long has it been since she accepted the position? Two years? I never thought I would see her work so hard on something that doesn’t interest her. And to think she hasn’t quit yet.
Mervil was pondering his sister as he walked to the Thieves Guild. He had honestly thought she wouldn’t last a month. Her attendance rate was… iffy, but she did show up sometimes, and more importantly, she was talking to people, people she didn’t like even. There was a time when people thought she was mute because she wouldn’t talk to anyone she wasn’t comfortable around. Admittedly, she stopped going completely silent around strangers even before she became a high priestess, but she never did more than tell them to go away or leave her alone. But just yesterday, he saw her have a full conversation with Validus of all people, it had put a smile on his face that hadn’t disappeared since. Not that most people noticed, he was always smiling, only difference was, this time it was genuine. The man beside him certainly hadn’t noticed, but the Archmage of Conjuration wasn’t known for his perceptiveness.
“Fredrick, we are here.”
“Huh? Oh, we are.”
The archmage had been reading a book on the way to the guild, paying just enough attention to his surroundings to follow behind Mervil. It was a talent he practiced frequently, as shown by the fact that not once did he get lost or bump into anything. Fredrick bookmarked the tome he was reading and put it away, which was enough for Mervil to open the door and enter the Thieves Guild. It wasn’t the first time he had been a guest here, or the second. Actually, the Grand Priest of the Celestial Empire came to the Thieves Guild so often that it was said that if you wanted to get a meeting with him, you had a better chance going to the guild than the temple. Admittedly, that said more about the strictness of the Celestial Order than anything else, but still. A few heads turned at his entrance, but nobody made a ruckus about it. If he was here, it was for a reason, and today that reason was that Asheli had asked him. Mervil looked around for the large Gnoll woman he knew so well, but didn’t see her anywhere. He was just about to ask one of the locals about her whereabouts, when an ash-grey paw landed heavily on his shoulder.
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“Looking for me?” Asheli asked smugly.
“You? No, of course not; I was simply trying to find a toilet. You wouldn’t happen to have one in this fine establishment would you?”
“Hah!”
Asheli was laughing, but Fredrick was simply confused.
“Mervil, I thought we came here because we had something important to talk about. Why did you bring me all the way over here just to go to the bathroom?”
“…It was a joke, Fredrick.”
“I do not see how.”
Fredrick never could grasp the subtleties of conversation, but Mervil didn’t mind. The archmage reminded him of his sister, and they had been friends for long enough that he was used to the misunderstandings. Asheli was far less used to them, but she wasn’t cruel enough to bring them up.
“Hey, before we get down to business, I got something for the two of you, though I’ll need Fredricks back after the meeting, I only have a few of these.”
Asheli pulled out what looked like two shoddily made crossbow bolts and held them out for her two guests. Both Mervil and Fredrick could sense the magic on the talismans, but where Mervil was intrigued, Fredrick was very much not.
“Is that a witch’s enchantment? It is nonsense. The spellwork is messy and unrefined; there is no cohesion in the materials, and the magic dust is painted on in nonsense patterns that mean nothing. It makes me feel uncomfortable; do I have to touch it?”
“Yes, you do. Don’t worry, the person who made it is very good at what she does, even if it doesn't seem like it. But seriously, you have to take it, at the very least for the first meeting.”
He didn’t like it, but tentatively, Fredrick did take the talisman, although he treated it like it would fall apart from a slight breeze. Mervil grabbed his talisman, finding no problem with the item's quality.
“So, why are we here, Asheli? Something magic related, I assume; you wouldn’t have asked for Fredrick if the problem was political.”
“As it turns out, it’s a bit of both. I need a curse removed, one applied by an archmage.”
“That is the magic half of the problem, what is the political part?”
“Follow me and find out.”
Asheli walked off, leading the two men deeper into the guild. They were brought to a private room, one normally used to plan heists or split loot. It was, of course, warded against any spying attempt, both mundane and magical. The room was already occupied when he entered - two young women and a quanso were sitting around a table, looking like they were just interrupted from a conversation. He recognized them too, although he had never met them before.
So that’s what she meant by political; she’s harbouring that witch Validus is hunting. Although, is she even a witch? She isn’t wearing a hat, and I’m not sensing much mana from her. Maybe she’s just trying to lay low. Still, she looks more like a scared girl than some sort of menace; why does Validus think she is such a threat? Is she that good of a liar to have tricked even me and Asheli? No, if that was the case, she could have convinced Validus of anything.
“Miss Shuka, I presume? Pleasure to meet you; I am the Grand Priest, Mervil Malan.”
He extended his hand to the nervous-looking black-haired one. She was surprised, but shook his hand, if a bit cautiously.
“Oh, sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?” Fredrick asked. “I don’t know many people who aren’t mages. Ah, and my name is Fredrick.”
“Don’t worry buddy; she isn’t someone you would know about. Oh, you might recognise the other girl though, she’s Servianna’s daughter.”
Fredrick’s eyes immediately lit up with interest as he moved around the table in the center of the room to get closer to her.
“Servianna’s daughter, how intriguing! Is it true that you are a draconist? Could you cast a spell for me? I want to see you transform. Ah, but before that, I need to extract your untransformed blood to act as a control sample against your transformed blood. It is a shame I don’t have any of Servianna’s blood to compares yours to… how much do you think she would sell a vial of her blood for?”
Mervil was regretting setting his friend on the woman; she looked incredibly uncomfortable. Still, it was too late to take back that information, and he wouldn’t do anything without her permission… probably.
“I am terribly sorry about your friend, but you needn’t worry about her. Fredrick is harmless. Now, I was told I am to remove a curse; are you the afflicted or is it someone else?”
“Uh, it’s me, but can’t you tell?”
“I could, with the right spell, but it is rather impolite to look at one's soul without permission.”
Shuka crossed her brows at that.
“Really? No one else asked. Well, whatever, you have my permission.”
With her permission granted, Mervil called upon the familiar power of Xyloth, god of magic, and asked for understanding. Mana moved, half from his will, and half from the will of Xyloth, and formed the spell Mervil desired. A spell to see souls. What he saw didn’t surprise him, he had already been told she was cursed, but the strength of it worried him. The young woman’s soul was a ball of tranquil white light, but wrapped around it in arcane patterns, were strands of foreign mana. They were wrapped so tightly that they dug into the surface of her soul, with one strand even piercing the soul completely and coming out the other side. It was not necessary for the spell, but it made its removal all but lethal using brute force. How it worked was that the soul would produce mana, which would pass through the spell woven around the soul and be converted into a wave of… wariness? Unease? General unpleasantness. It was potent and niche enough to bypass most spells and artifacts that protected from charm spells. Most of those spells only protected you from liking a person more than was natural, not less.
This must be what the talisman Asheli gave me is for. I already have an item that protects me from mental manipulation, and a good one too, but looking at this spell… it’s a coin flip whether it would work or not. The talisman must be specialized against this spell specifically, it would need to be twice as strong as it is otherwise.
“Asheli, you said an archmage cast this spell? Which one?”
“Sandrin. Apparently he’s back from the dead and up to his old tricks again. Shuka is his first victim.”
“That can’t be right, we took every precaution to ensure his death. I even captured his soul and sent it to the afterlife personally; how could he have survived?”
Capturing souls like that was technically illegal, and for good reason, but Mervil hadn’t been willing to risk him getting revived. Besides, the only person on the raid who’d objected was Validus, and he was hardly going to take the Grand Priest to court about it.
“Trust me, I was as surprised as you, but the evidence is pointing towards it either being him, or a damn good imposter. I don’t know the full extent of what he has planned, but considering he stole a sizable amount of Kallium from Rockmarsh, I imagine he is going to take another shot at demon summoning.”
“Didn’t he miss his chance when we killed him three years ago? No, wait, he was still preparing back then. Fredrick, three years ago you said Sandrin was likely aiming for a perfect penta alignment for his demon-summoning ritual. When exactly is that happening?”
Fredrick, who was entirely distracted by Maryam, stopped examining his two newly acquired vials of blood and single dragon scale, and turned to face Mervil.
“The penta? One hundred and seven days from now. But why are you bring up Sandrin? Isn’t he dead?”
“Looks like it didn’t stick.”
Xorvos, who was mostly in the room for morale support, as he had little to contribute when it came to magic, finally interjected.
“Um, excuse me, Grand Priest, but could you explain to me what a perfect penta alignment is?”
Before Mervil had a chance to explain, Fredrick burst into his own explanation with a slightly manic look in his eyes.
“You see, the entire world we live in is known as the Mortal Plane. It’s not the only plane though, there are more, twenty-two more in fact. The sixteen divine planes - one for each god, the four elemental planes - fire, air, water, and earth, the seven planes of hell, although they all only count for one, and the afterlife. For a very long time everyone had assumed that the planes all existed in their own pockets of reality. That is still mostly true, but eight hundred years ago the founder of the Celestial Empire, Emperor Astrum, discovered that the planes were also the celestial bodies that fill our solar system. They are planets and moons, and Humanus’ divine plane is even a comet. They all orbit the sun, which is the elemental plane of fire by the way, and in those orbits they will eventually reach a point where they become as close to the mortal plane as possible. When that happens, it is called their apex. This is important because the closer a plane is to the mortal plane, the easier it is to draw mana from them. Normally, the mana cost of extracting mana from a plane far outweighs what you get from it, but during a plane’s apex you can gain several times the mana you use, making it very useful for mana-extensive rituals. The one flaw is that a plane’s mana is intrinsically tied to the plane it came from, causing it to be incompatible with spells that go against the will of the plane. What was the original question again?”
“Perfect penta alignments.” Mervil helpfully informed him.
“Right, alignments! You see, when multiple planes reach their apex at the same time, it is known as a perfect alignment. During an alignment, you can extract mana from multiple planes at the same time, and not only that, but the mana itself is empowered, increasing the strength of your spell. We still haven’t figured out why alignments empower magic, but the effect gets more powerful the more planes align. An imperfect alignment is when multiple planes are close to their apex but don’t all reach it at the same time. You can still extract mana from multiple sources, but you don’t get the empowering effect. Penta just means five planes are aligning at the same time. It is incredibly rare, even for an imperfect penta alignment, but we are lucky enough to live during a time when a perfect one happens. Isn’t it amazing?”
Mervil was… less excited about it.
“If you recall Fredrick, the last time there was a perfect penta alignment, two kingdoms were destroyed. I would rather not repeat that.”
The Grand Priest was attempting to impart some caution to his friend, but it never got past his immeasurable love of magic. What his words of caution did do however, was inform the three young adults just how dire the stakes were. Shuka’s face was pale, Xorvos was regretting asking about the alignment, and even Maryam was wringing her scaled hands nervously.
Wait, why do her hands have scales? Ah, right, Fredrick wanted samples.
It was Asheli who stepped up to dispel their doubts.
“Sandrin may have a great opportunity in his hands, but it is still months away. We have ample time to interfere and disrupt his ritual. I may not be a mage, but I know a spell of that scale will take immense resources and planning; we just have to make sure that by the time the penta comes, he won’t be able to take advantage of it. We stopped him once, we can do it again. Besides, Sandrin isn’t the only one who can use an alignment, and when it comes to skilled spellcasters, we have him outnumbered.”
The fiery look in her burning eyes was all they needed. Mervil wished it was all he needed too.