Chapter 203: Book 3-23.3: Storm Driven

Ivala City was a fortress masquerading as a city. Willem Sarosha snorted at the inelegant square city blocks. Every road was straight and with every corner a perfect ninety-degree angle. Where the terrain would not have fitted such a rigid scheme, the Ivalans had done their best to bend it to their will.

Hills were cut into and terraced, with rather grudging inclines. Sheer rock faces bordered those streets, with the stone polished to a gleam. Every corner had a patrollers’ post, and they kept a sharp eye on the drab populace.

Where his native Garamus City often had streets that were like rivers of colour, Ivala’s citizens often wore drab brown garments. The Season of Water’s cold touch lay heavy on the city, at least compared to home. Willem shivered at the cold wind and he held close his fur-lined cloak. No, Ivala was barbaric and backwards. A row of indentured labourers struggled with shovels to clear the snow from the paths, and another group marched towards the north, headed to the Aegeas Plains, to dig trenches and pile up stone walls.

And it was too cold to observe the city if he was being honest. He stepped back from the balcony and reentered his quarters at the Union Palace. The Summit of Seven was traditionally held mid-Water and the venue rotated between each of the City-States. This year was Ivala’s turn, of course, and the Autarch Ivala was always opulent.

The interior of his chambers was nice and toasty. A side table held a carafe of mulled wine, a covered goblet with hot chocolate, and a pile of sliced roasted Kadrac Beef, assorted fruits, and cheeses. A maidservant knelt beside the table, awaiting his every command.

Luxurious rugs and tapestries decorated the walls and floor, while golden ornaments were set on small tables. His quarters had a formal sitting room, a dining chamber, and quarters for his entourage. The centrepiece of the room was a tall clock, which chimed the hour by having little silverwork dancers strike a small bell. A masterwork that ran on gears, coils, and spring, rather than Animus.

Willem was not only here as an aide to his King but also as the bearer of news from the distant Telurian Court. The One Who Watches and Waits spun words as delicately as a spider’s weaving and it took that many weeks to pin down the Chaos dweller’s promises. Even now, Willem didn’t know if he found all the little hooks that would leave him hanging out to dry from their agreement. He hoped his counterpart who worked on the Asheron Court had better success. Still, he believed he had gotten the better of that bargain, but only time would tell if he was right.

He settled down for his repast, and by the time he finished, it was time for the summit. He put on his dress robes and followed the page to the Union Chambers. He arrived just in time, apparently. His King wasn’t there yet, and neither were the other heads of state. While he waited in the antechamber, he observed the chamber’s familiar features.

The floor had a tile mosaic, a sunburst with seven distinct rays, at the end of each one was a throne. Aides such as he would sit behind his state’s throne. The host for the summit was seated at the centre ray with the other rulers taking their place at the sides. The exact position of the other rulers depended on their relations with the central throne, with those furthest signifying a misalignment with the host.

A chorus of trumpets blasted down the hall, and the rulers arrived and took their places. King Garamus sat just at the left of Autarch Ivala. It was interesting for Willem to note that President Jugen and Prime Minister Uaran took the farthest seats. Not that surprising, honestly, but he had expected First Councilor Haveena to be at the edge.

Once they were all seated, Autarch Ivala began the proceedings. What followed was something Willem didn’t really take note of. A bunch of trade rules, imposed tariffs, troop movement requests and whatnot.

Ivala asked for a bigger share of the joint treasury. The Autarch had spent more than his fair share building up the forts. More materials, more goods, minerals, oils, iron and steel.

“You’re not the only one that shares a border with the Empire,” First Councilor Haveena said.

“Oh please, Faron’s Crossing doesn’t even care about its southern border. All they care about is the Tidelands,” Autarch Ivala scoffed.

First Councillor Haveena pursed her lips, “Are you proposing another ruinous war?”

“That is another proposal,” King Garamus said. “Perhaps the Union would like to pass on the current issue?”

“Very well.” Autarch Ivala said.

“Councilor Sarosha, the floor is yours.”

Willem nodded and proceeded to the middle of the chamber, at the centre of the sunburst. “Rulers of the Confederation of City-States, I bid you good day. I return from a mission across the Tidelands and into the Chaos Sea, bearing tidings from the Sovereign of the Telurian Court…”

“What do those monsters want?” First Councillor Haveena hissed.

“Let him speak, Salazha,” Autarch Ivala ordered, using her given name. First Councillor Haveena glared at him but the Autarch just waved for Willem to continue.

“Ahem, well, the Sovereign of the Telurian, the One Who Watches and Waits, has agreed to a set of, er, shall we say, terms…” Willem continued to speak, spilling out the words the Watcher told him to say. He watched as the faces of the rulers changed. Some in glee, others in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” President Jugen breathed.

“It’s madness,” Prime Minister Uaran muttered.

Prince Kadrac didn’t say anything, but his face was thoughtful. His own King nodded approvingly while City Master Ekelus rubbed her chin. First Councillor Haveena’s face went from horrified to considering as she figured out the repercussions.

“Thank you, Sarosha. Please sit.” Autarch Ivala said, and as soon as Willem left the centre, he continued. “This is our chance. There are elements in Rumiga City ready to welcome us with open arms.”

“No war against the Empire will succeed that easily.” Haveena said, “Not when they receive endless reinforcements and supplies from the Chaos Channel.”

“Then isn’t the answer obvious?” King Garamus said.

“It’s impossibly hard to send saboteurs into Rumiga City.” Haveena continued.

“Then you’d be glad to know that that particular problem is one of the easiest to solve.” Autarch Ivala smirked. “Please invite our guests inside.”

From the entrance, a small group of people came in. At first, Willem didn’t know if what he saw was a mirage. A figment of his imagination. But no, it wasn’t. He knew that the Empire had troubles, he didn’t think it was that bad.

Perhaps the Confederate’s dream of true sovereignty would finally be in reach.

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Kiyo Alfein floated lazily on her Cirrus Skiff as it skated at twenty-five paces a second. Part of the Spell protected her from the rushing wind, and she was able to enjoy her goblet of fine mead as she lounged. Lying on the skiff was like sleeping on a cloud, which was true simply because it was a conjured cloud. It beat the cushion beds back home in Realmheart, the water beds, and silken hammocks.

She absently twirled her hair in her finger, while she glanced at the ground as it rushed past her. She was travelling dozens of times faster than a troop transport, and the fact that she was headed to her destination in a straight line rather than following the zigzag of the roads cut her travel time shorter. She would have left a couple of days ago but a sudden blizzard had delayed her.

Well, that and Silus Gethen gave her a box of chocolate truffles and the two of them spent quite a bit of time…eating. The warmth was much appreciated, too. Kiyo chuckled to herself.

Well, here she was, a couple of days after the blizzard, and already she was close to Fort Aegermonth after a couple of hours flight. A minute later, the fort came within sight. It was quite an impressive structure with thick stone walls, spacious inner courtyards and a sturdy looking keep. But… it was looking a bit empty, wasn’t it?

Kiyo frowned as she flew down to the courtyard. The lack of hail and challenge was disconcerting. It took a minute before the sentry from the gate noticed her and approached.

The boy saluted her with a fist to the heart, recognizing her official robes. Kiyo nodded breezily and said, “I’m looking for an intern named Yuriko Davar. Long blonde hair, blue eyes. Very beautiful.”

The boy started. “Oh, you mean her. She left a few days ago for one of the camps.”

“Huh, why?”

“Er, you’ll have to ask the Fort Commander about that ma’am.”

“I will.”

Kiyo strode to the command centre and once she came inside, she finally saw what she expected a Fortress would have. Dozens of officers were busy on their crystal screens, making notations on a map laid out on a table, and making reports. Kiyo looked for the officer with the highest rank sigil and approached.

“Sorceress.” The woman with the silver hair nodded.

“Commander. I wish to know where Cadet Davar is stationed.”

“Camp Cinderfield. Twenty-five leagues due north-northeast. But we haven’t heard from them since the barbarian raid.”

“Barbarian raid?”

“Yes. I don’t have all the details yet, but if you wish to head to the camp, I won’t stop you.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

Kiyo was frowning when she came back out to the courtyard. Why was Yuriko out in the camps? Ancestors, what has that stubborn girl done now?

She threw up her hands and emitted her Animus, shaping them into runescript and sending her Intent out into the air. The ambient Chaos shaped itself into a cloud, and once she stepped on, it flew faster than before.

She had taken a glance at the map. She had a rough understanding of where the camp was. It was a clear day, and the snow was blindingly bright, but it wasn’t enough to hide the green colour of a cadet’s jacket. Kiyo found that spot of green on a field of white some twenty leagues from the Fort. She dove the Cirrus Skiff back to the ground right next to the green, and as she came closer, she recognized the half-frozen figure.

“Ella-Mai Wol!” Kiyo gasped. The girl was unconscious and her breathing was shallow. “Oh, Ancestors.”

She grabbed the child and sped back to Aegermonth, dropping her off to the healer’s quarters as soon as she arrived. She stayed there barely long enough to find out that the girl would live before she sped off, her heart aflutter with worries. What was Ella-Mai doing in the middle of nowhere and if she was there, where were the others? Where was Yuriko?

By the time she arrived at the Camp, it was nothing but a smouldering ruin. With her heart at her throat, Kiyo landed amongst the burnt buildings, staring about. Aside from ashes, she could smell blood. She could see red snow.

“Where are you?” She muttered.

She walked around the camp, looking futilely. She didn’t find anyone alive, though she did find a lot of footprints. Some leading back to the Fort and others leading to the west.

She staggered out of the camp, muttering the words of another spell. She only heaved a sigh of relief when the spell gave her a negative answer. Yuriko did not die here.

She cast the same spell but asked a different question. It led her northwest. She cast Cirrus Skiff for the third time, her fifth Spell of the day. Her mind was stretched thin and she would need to rest for a day before she could cast another, or risk a deadly backlash. But speed was of the essence.

A few minutes later, she came upon a clearing. No, a crater. In the very middle was a crack in the fabric of Rumiga, and it spilt corrosive Chaos into the plane. The spell had pointed straight to the crack. It was where Yuriko had gone, and Kiyo knew that there was no way for her to follow.

“Oh Ancestors!” She wailed as she dropped to her knees. “Cousin Sadeen will kill me!”

End of Book 3

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