Sayrin rushed up the grand steps of the central palace. Though he’d been here many times before, and though he’d also run late more than once for one reason or another, this was the first time he’d felt truly, deeply anxious about it. Security had been a nightmare to get past, even though they all knew him by name, and knew he was expected, there weren’t to be any exceptions to a full security sweep of the person and of the carriage.
If he was lucky, and Sayrin usually wasn’t the luckiest of men, then he would still manage to beat their guest and arrive if not in a timely fashion, then at least in time to greet him. Looking around, Sayrin felt at least a measure of reassurance at the fact there wasn’t yet a large procession near the palace. Any 4-Star on the planet afforded some measure of grandeur when visiting any foreign city, and Cain of all people would have at least a full entourage of lower ranking 4-Stars and several dozen 3-Star attendants.
Blasting open the doors without pausing or even a break in his stride. He did, however, have to leap to one side to avoid a pair of men in formal suits like his own, also three stars working in the building judging from the glimpse he took at their aura’s, then kept running. He knew that his pace to a zero or 1-star would seem almost like teleportation, but this damnable city was so large and grand, that even just running down the hallway to the grand balcony where Sayrin knew he would find Orrin felt like it took a hundred years longer than it should have.
It was in the opulently decorated main hallway of the palace that he usually started to feel the edges of Orrin’s aura. It was common in high society to keep one's aura contained, to avoid bothering those with it and to avoid… mishaps that can come from blasting an aura on those not powerful enough to withstand its pressure. The only exceptions were when mingling with another person on an individual basis, as he’d done with the pair of men earlier as a way of identifying each other and greeting one another, and of course if you were the most powerful person in the building.
Sayrin felt it was an interesting custom, but one that he personally enjoyed when he was able to do it himself. The military had a custom wherein if a higher ranking individual than anyone currently in the room were to walk in, the entire room should go to attention. Once you reached 3-Star, this applied to any buildings you entered as well. There were several practical reasons this was done, in an emergency, you would always know where to find the commander, and the commander would also be able to, in the back of their mind, have some awareness of the goings on of the building. When a 4-Star entered a building, their aura control was at such a point that they could typically cover the entire area with ease, while simultaneously keeping to a manageable level, even for those of far lower ranks. The palace being as large as it was, and with its many enchanted protections and thick polished granite walls, Orrin’s aura was not omnipresent, but rather only able to be felt a few rooms away. But as he was usually the highest ranking member in the central palace, aside from the king of course if he ever deigned to descend and visit from the Northern palace, it was his right to project his aura as much or as little as he wished.
All this and more flashed through Sayrin’s mind as, at least five hundred meters before he should have felt Orrin's aura, he felt instead an overwhelming sense of profound bloodlust. Skidding and stumbling to a stop, Sayrin gaped like a fish out of water, as he took it in, then saw further down, several 2-Star palace guards and dozens of 1-Star staff and servants all collapsed to the ground, struggling to remain conscious.
As he finally managed to continue his trek forwards, he instantly understood why. This aura, he was still only on its fringes, at its far reaches. As he walked deeper and deeper into its depths, he felt the pressure on his own aura increase by orders of magnitude. It wasn’t a suppression, nothing so invasive as that, rather it felt as though he was staring down the face of a monster. One that he knew, deep in his bones, in his heart, in his very being, that he was utterly helpless against.
Sayrin persevered, determined to meet not only Orrin, his own commander, but also to simply stand before the one who was capable of doing this to most of the palace. Each step was an ordeal, and he leaned against the wall as much for support as to simply remain grounded in the present. It was not so much as to be entirely debilitating, he could move. But damn if it wasn’t difficult.
For Sayrin, there was no doubt in his mind he’d be able to get there, to stand before the source of this strength. However, with only fifty meters to go until the large embossed doors of black marble leading out to the terrace, he felt the river in his mind begin to stir.
It was always there, he’d found. Always flowing in the background of his thoughts. Most days it was simply thus, an ever present companion. Today, though, today he could feel it. Its power, it’s magnitude, the waking nightmare that he so loathed.
But… no, this was different, unlike what he’d always felt before. Sayrin found new strength entering his limbs, felt steel in his bones, and fresh air in his lungs. He felt the pressure of the overwhelming bloodlust lessen, little by little. It wasn’t gone, it wasn’t even diminished by half really, but it was lessened. Moving away from the wall, he found he could even stand up straight again. The raging torrent in his mind wasn’t taking away from him, it was helping him. Boosting him along, as if it too wanted to see the source of this strength. Wanted to confront it and overcome it.
Sayrin wouldn’t question it. Straightening his olive green overcoat, and rearranging the medals he wore over his heart, he continued forwards now with confidence in his step, and fierce determination in his eyes.
Pulling on the polished silver handles of both marble doors, he swung them open with an audible grunt, and then, as if entering the eye of a vast hurricane, stepped out into the utter bliss that was the open air terrace. So overwhelmed by the sudden and severe lack of the bloodlust, that he took several moments just to breath and orient himself to the feeling of not being surrounded by it. It was to the point that he didn’t even notice the entire group of people not fifteen feet ahead of him, a couple of whom were turned and looking back at him with amused, knowing smiles on their faces.
He knew most of the group, of course. They were all fellow officers in the service of Orrin. Moreover, they had apparently made it here under equally harried conditions judging by the haggard expression some of them wore on their faces.
However, Sayrin paid them all hardly more than a cursory glance. Again, both he and the slowly building torrent in his mind were in agreement: they didn't matter, not right now.
Walking confidently to stand shoulder to shoulder with the other officers, Sayrin finally laid his eyes on the sole object of their fixation: Cain, the Conqueror.
He was a large man, not fat but physically large, standing a head above even Orrin himself, who was by no means short. He had dark curly hair, kept relatively short, that flowed almost perfectly into his beard of the same color and length. His ears were perfectly round, confirming the fact that despite his herculean size, he was human, or at least once was. And herculean he was, he wore a simple flowing toga of mottled black and brown, draping over his left shoulder. Underneath, and barely concealed, were the mass of rippling muscles that made up his chest and shoulders. Each fiber, each tendon on each muscle, they all stood out in high relief. While muscles didn’t matter overly much as one increased in magical power, neither were they inconsequential. This was a man who had forged his path through a brute strength and force of will that bordered on insanity.
Without meaning to, Sayrin took a step forward, breaking from the group of 3-Star officers to approach Orrin and Cain where they were sitting in high back chairs, talking. He didn’t know why he wanted to, he didn’t have a plan on what to do or say when he approached, but nevertheless, he was compelled forward. He needed to be closer, to understand, to speak to these men, these demigods, these paragons of power.
Then all at once, like a keen knife through warmed butter, Cain tilted back his head, and let out a raucous bout of laughter that boomed across the entire terrace with an almost physical force. Sayrin’s mind cleared in an instant, yet he still found himself inextricably standing far closer to the two men than any other person in the room.
Orrin, his direct commanding officer and de facto leader of the Loterran military forces in the region, was looking at him with a mixture of equal parts lingering amusement and cynical confusion as to what exactly Sayrin was doing. Having enough tack to use the situation, Orrin said in his deep baritone “Ah, Lord Cain, this is one of my most esteemed captains, Palorie Sayrin. He was the one who discovered the spatial user down south in Lyra.”
Sayrin had met and been in the presence of, and had innumerable conversations with Orrin. He himself was a powerful 4-Star user, and had an aura like an iron wall. Through the years, he had grown accustomed to being in his presence, and thought himself strengthened to the oppressive power that came with advanced ranks.
As Cain’s bright scarlet eyes settled on Sayrin, corners still crinkled by residual amusement, he saw therein a terrible, horrific depth. He saw decades and decades dedicated to destruction and decay. He felt no aura, no suppression, no power of arcane origin. But gazing into those eyes, and looking at the history of carnage they held, Sayrin felt the blood drain from his face, his hands grew numb, and ice entered his veins. All of that and more happened from his gaze alone, and then, he heard the man's voice.
Shockingly soft, and yet holding a resonance that allowed it to carry across the entire group, he said “So it was you who allowed the fruition of current events. How came it to pass, pray tell, that you failed to capture a single child who had their class for less than a handful of hours?”
Having snapped to attention the moment Orrin first gazed upon him, Sayrin clenched and unclenched his fists numerous times, before swallowing past the lump in his throat and answering in a voice that remained as steady as he could make it “Lord Cain, I was away searching the area, when the woman took-claimed her class. She had been left with one of my soldiers, who came to get me as quickly as she could. But by the time I got to her, she had already… registered… at the guild.”
Sayrin trailed off towards the end of his response, as both Orrin and Cain looked at him with disappointment. It was a classic mistake, and he realized too late that he’d made it. Dropping his gaze, he said “By which I mean, gentleman, that I have no excuse. It shouldn’t have happened.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Orrin opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but was beaten to it by Cain, who said “What actions have you taken since then to rectify your oversight?”
Looking sharply at Orrin, hoping the senior officer would step in and save him, Sayrin was crestfallen to simply see passive stoicism on his face. Looking back, Sayrin said "I-I haven’t been given leave to… to… I have done… nothing, Lord Cain. I’ve been taking care of my wife and son, and haven’t taken any actions to that end. I have no other excuses or reasons.”
Cain for a long moment, assessed Sayrin, taking in both his words and appearance. Sayrin watched the man’s eyes move from the medals on his chest, to the polished shine of his boots, and back up to his face. Finally, after what felt like hours being the object of a science experiment, Cain said “Let me see your hands, boy.”
A moment passed wherein no one moved, and nobody said a single thing. Finally, Orrin said with a smile playing at his lips “Sayrin, show Lord Cain your hands.”
“Uh… Yes sir” He said, belatedly raising his hands in a jerky, bird-like fashion. Taking first his right hand, and then his left, Cain studied them both for what Sayrin felt to be an inordinately long time. Cains own hands as they touched his were not only like the mitts a blacksmith might wear with their sheer size, they were also as rough as sandpaper all throughout, and each bore a large, deep scar along the palms, as if he’d rubbed them nearly to the bone at some point in the past.
Cain made an odd pinching motion as he flipped over Sayrin’s left hand, he began to study the stars that had bled into existence there, without being called forth by Sayrin himself. The three stars, all appearing as the same five pointed cluster of golden topaz gems, were conjoined in a perfectly straight row in line with his knuckles. The first two were identical, two facets of the gems collared a deep sandy brown, with radiant gold shining out from within, with a third section holding midnight blue and orange brighter than a hearth's flame at its core. His third star had only two facets, both sandy brown and both with their golden cores looking out like a pair of eyes in the dark.
Cain caught Sayrin’s eye, studying him as he himself was studied. Releasing his hands, and reclining back in his chair, he turned to Orrin and said “This child has had a hard path. Do you know of it?”
Orrin nodded “I am aware of his particular… abilities. Luckily his aforementioned wife, as well as some others in our unit, are able to provide support so nothing too untoward should happen.”
Cain looked off into the far distance, at the rising suns, the ocean and ships in the sheltered bay, and finally said “I had a brother once, many centuries ago. Though his was a shorter path than most, with a particularly tragic end, it taught me the true importance of family, and treasuring those around you.”
Looking back at Sayrin and meeting his eyes once more, he said “I would never fault a man who cares for his family before all else. Never lose sight of them, nor allow them to lose sight of you. You will look back and rue the day, should it ever come to pass, and curse yourself a fool for allowing it.”
Mind moving a mile a minute, Sayrin took an extra, and unnecessary step, but one that felt right in the moment, and executed a formal bow. They were not common in this day and age, nor were they in regular use in the Loterran Military, but for some reason it felt the only right course of action in that moment. Sweeping his right leg out and behind him, then right hand over the medals on his chest and left fist in the small of his back, he bowed at the waist to the sitting Cain, and said “Thank you, Lord Cain, for your sage words. I will always remember them, and take them to heart.”
~ ~ ~
After that, Sayrin stepped away, back in line with the other officers. He got several looks, some envious and some dirty and spiteful. He didn’t care. Sayrin was a long way from caring what these men and women thought of him in even the tiniest of capacities. Orrin and Cain talked for a while longer about various topics, with Sayrin and the others simply taking it all in, appreciating each grain of wisdom as if it were the most valuable gemstone in the world. Eventually, however, Cain stood with Orrin following suit, and they bade each other farewell by grasping one another by the forearms, and releasing a sudden, powerful spike of their auras. The instantaneous clash of aura and will sent shockwaves through the onlooking crowd of officers, one or two of whom fell to their knees entirely, before Cain finally departed, leaping over the edge of the terrace and falling to who knows where with a full bellied laugh.
Orrin shared instructions and guidance for the next weeks' worth of activities that would take place as, after all, Cain was only the first of many who would be arriving in the city after the cavalcade of recent events. Dismissing them all, he said “Sayrin, stay back a moment, if you would please.”
He watched the others file through the double doors, and without glancing away from the distant horizon, Sayrin waved a hand and pulled the massive black marble doors closed.
Joining him at the railing, Sayrin stood behind and to the right of Orrin, and settled into a parade rest stance, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped at the small of the back. Neither of them spoke, the silence around them palpable in the distant crashing waves, and the warm spring winds blowing across their faces, and cries of people coming up from the city far below.
“What held you in getting here this morning? I sent three messengers.” Orrin finally asked.
“I was with my wife, sir.” Said Sayrin, moving immediately to attention as he began to speak. “I had instructed my servants not to bother me for any reason, which they took to include your messages.”
Turning to look him in the eye, Orrin said “You were with your wife? Are you two...? And relax, Sayrin, please.”
Returning to parade rest, even as some of the energy drained out of him, Sayrin said “No sir, not… not yet. She still flinches when I go near her, or move too suddenly.”
Orrin didn’t speak to the news, simply nodding his head, and looking back out at the sea.
“I heard about the sparring bout with your son.” He left the statement hanging in the air. It was an invitation to talk, and again, Sayrin deflated with the new topic at hand, leaving the invitation unanswered.
As if able to understand this, Orrin once again nodded, without saying a word more about it.
Finally, sighing, he turned and said “Lord Cain is an interesting man. He’s very much a creature of dualities. As serious as a blade to the chest, but with the levity and whimsy to leap from a building simply to enjoy the feeling.” Here he stopped and shook his head. “More than that, though, he was right, Sayrin. We need to find this girl. She isn’t the only new spatial user now, we’ve gotten reports from across the guild networks of several more popping up, but she was the first.”
“Yes sir, I know.” Fire of passion raged in his belly, and the energy he’d lost before returned three fold now “I would be more than happy to head back down to-”
“No.”
The single word reverberated through the air like the striking of a gong, it’s power and effect stopping Sayrin in his tracks.
“No… sir? Then what will you have me do, exactly?” He couldn’t help it; a slight edge had crept into his voice. There was a spatial user out there, multiple spatial users. Sayrin didn’t care if he had to go up against Cain himself, he would do that a hundred times more if it meant he could hunt down these murderous bastards.
“Sayrin... What happened with that Lieutenant of yours, and the 1-Star as well… I know you intervened and directed them towards Lyra, and I know the spatial user is there as well. But with all that in mind, I won’t- can't let you near there again. Not for now, anyway.”
Sayrin worked his jaw for several seconds, trying to physically work out his emotions before his tongue got the better of him. He had been in the military for too long, been too conditioned and well trained to respect those in positions of authority to lose himself now, in front of Orrin no less. But he came close then, at that moment.
“However, I will send you after one of the other spatial users.”
Shocked into silence by the sudden prospect of a deployment to other parts of the world, he realized he didn’t even know where the others were.
“Sir, where… where would I be going? And how soon would I leave?”
He seemed to think for a moment, before saying “I’ll give you to the end of the week. I want you to meet the next dignitary due in town as well before you depart. Give your men notice of the deployment as soon as you leave here and get your affairs in order.” Orrin eyed him with particular attention for this last part, then said “you catch my meaning, yes?”
Giving a sharp nod, Sayrin said “Yes sir, I do, and I will.”
“Good. As for where you’ll be going, I’ll give you the choice. There have been six additional Spatial users registered at guild branches, two of which are in allied nations that would be willing to accept our troops without undue attention being called to the matter. The Cheole region, specifically the Tortian branch. As well as the Western Nioa islands, Kaoe branch. Almost literally polar opposites, and each set to be at least a several month deployment. Thoughts?”
Sayrin looked down, lost in thought for a moment considering the two places. The Cheole mountains were frozen peaks so tall, they should by all rights be uninhabitable. Due in large part, however, to the air users dominating that region, they had formed, if not a comfortable place to live, then at least a suitable one. They were famous for their massive monasteries and world class musicians, but also regarded with a certain… well, they were just odd. They almost never spoke a single word to anyone, not that they specifically lacked the ability to, but that they had this taboo about sound. Picturing his soldiers in such a place, he could immediately see several obvious issues that would eventually come about, due to cultural differences alone.
The alternative location then, seemed the obvious and even desirable choice. The Nioa islands were viewed as a natural wonderland; several dozen islands set in the most calm and clear part of the ocean as if by sheer providence. They were all held on a continental shelf, meaning the waters between each island never got more than twenty or thirty feet deep at their lowest points, and the waters remained as clear and bright as the noonday sky. The people there, primarily water users, were long and historic allies of the Loterran kingdom, and would openly welcome any and all visitors with hearty excitement.
Despite all of this, everything he had to consider and everything guiding him towards the tropical vacation for all intents and purposes, he found himself saying “The Cheole mountains sir. That’s where we need to be, and that’s where we’ll go.”
Orrin nodded with finality and said “Excellent choice. We don’t have much of a presence in that region, so you’ll be under the care of our allied commander while there. Report to her once you arrive, and follow her orders as you would my own...” He paused for a moment, before adding “within reason.”
“Absolutely sir, understood. Will this be an accompanied tour?”
Responding without hesitation, as if he’d expected the question, Orrin said “Accompanied. The Cheole people are certainly different from us in many ways, but it should by no means become a war zone. Non-combatants are welcome to tag along. Talk to finance to ensure you secure proper accommodations for those bringing families.”
Feeling the end of their conversation was at hand, Sayrin said “Roger that sir. Will that be all?”
“That’ll be all Sayrin, go. Make ready your men and yourself. The next several weeks will be hectic and I’ll need you as you are now, not as you were coming through that hall.”
Snapping to attention, Sayrin gave a firm, crisp salute. Once it was returned by Orrin, he executed an about face, and began to walk firmly away, determination and purpose propelling his stride. Just as he pushed on the large silver handle of the right double door, he paused at the sound of his name, looking back.
“One more thing, Sayrin. Your son, I’m returning him to active duty. I want this to be clear that he won’t be part of your deployment to Cheole.”
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, and a hundred emotions played out on his face. But finally, reaching the forefront of the tumult, an uncomfortable acknowledgment at the wisdom of the move prevailed. With a lump in his throat for the second time that morning, though this time for entirely different reasons, Sayrin managed to force out one final “Yes, sir.” Before once more walking on, closing the doors behind him with the resounding boom of fate itself being sealed.