Chapter 46: Ch. 42: Serendipitous Meetings Part II

“…Queen Sequoia on the other hand, has also been used as an ingredient in making perfumed oils that restore vitality to the skin as well as varnish that lends an exotic fragrance to furniture. Their non-toxicity is what makes them so popular, but nonetheless, getting through the impenetrable bark to tap the sap is a difficult undertaking. Only mature trees provide the extract, younger trees are considered toxic as a defence mechanism of sorts.” -Sylby’s Apothecary Guide for Herbalists and Alchemists.

---

All his artefacts were there; from his sword, dagger and arm-sleeve to his wurmhide armour and hoverboard. However, some seemed to have undergone some visible cosmetic changes; someone had even gone through the trouble of inlaying runecraft through the Litchenberg markings on the wurmhide armor.

It was mostly the cuirass and the cuisses that had suffered the markings. Consequently, the three pieces of armour had been dyed a gunmetal grey, but the blue etchwork was hard to miss. Needless to say, it ended up looking like some knockoff of a superhero costume with a lightning decal, but it was subtle unless you were looking for it.

An [Arbourmancer] had also smoothened out the wood, patching the scars it had suffered from arrows and other miscellaneous scrapes of wear and tear.

The hoverboard was now a unibody, the underside of the engine housing having been streamlined to curve with the rest of the board. It ended up looking like some sort of hypersonic drone missile without stabiliser fins. Whoever had worked on it had done their homework on aerodynamics.

The wurmhide’s alterations, he could live with; it had been a lost cause anyway. That was fine with Arthur. It was the hoverboard that was a different story altogether. Arthur felt as though he was being shown up on his own creation and seethed, itching to take it apart just to see that nothing of its internal mechanisms had been touched. But that would have to wait for later. Arthur bottled his vexation, letting it go unmentioned as he had an impromptu tour of the Sylvani aer dock.

The aer dock had been cleared out with the last shift since the rest days began after. As a result, the place was as quiet as an abandoned warehouse. Half a dozen Sylvani aerships sat in their berths, under the glow of chromastone lamps.

It was hard to believe that they were in fact inside a grove of trees larger than the ones at the Diplomatic Grove. For this was a Bough of a Mother Grove, specifically Elder Volemhir’s private bough. In Arthur’s world, Elder Volemhir would be something of a visionary CEO with money to burn. Here, he was the equivalent of a high ranking [Lord].

”Beautiful aren't they?” Elder Volemhir commented.

“Ah yeah," Arthur rasped, swallowing. His throat had gone dry as he stared at the double keeled hull of a Sylvani Longship. They were like longboats but with prows that slowly eased to a sharp point rather than the serpentine curve. As a result, they had the appearance of a krill whark’s ventral section down to the grooves that marked their white underside.

Furled asts extended from the bow, then at the waist. Two pairs were vertical while two pairs were spread like a lionfish’s pectoral fins on articulated rigging. The promenade deck was therefore largely unencumbered, freeing up some viewing real estate. It also meant that the helmsperson had an unobstructed line of sight from the ship’s stern.

From the ship’s quarterdeck was a glistening curved canopy of iridescent glass akin to the carapace of a silver jewel beetle. And below that, behind the main wingsails, the ship’s waist bulged into bulbous vents before the stern narrowed into a tail with two rudder stabiliser sails.

“It won't come cheap, Esteemed Elder,” Arthur said calmly and concisely. He looked askance at [Mage Scout] Szephia trailing them with an inscrutable expression on her face.

“In due time, perhaps young Arthur—there is no need to place the war game’s lynchpin on the board yet,” Elder Volemhir said, giving him a wobbly wave of his hands.

“Then?” Arthur asked frowning.

“That was the inspired work of Ascal Cornieva,” Elder Volemhir began. “Three decades ago, he suddenly went underground without a word to me. His last correspondence was an update on a magier core based on an ancient Illvari artefact of the same name. It might not seem immediately apparent, but the Dwar and the Sylvani were in competition to restore ancient mana source artefacts which proved a somewhat tall task.”

“So, Ascal Cornieva featured somewhere in this competition and managed to come closer than most to unravelling the workings of a magier core?” Arthur asked, catching on.

“Astute, young sprite. Ascal Cornieva had a contract to deliver the first magier core and already had an aership prepared, “ Elder Volemhir said. They paused in the shadow of one of the longships. It was about the size of a trailer.

“We suspect he hid both in plain sight where the dwarves wouldn't have wanted to be seen meddling as it might sour relations with the Sovereign Cities. Ascal Cornieva was a human [Runesmith] and [Artificer] you see; the most highly sought after in fact.”

“And deeming him a threat to their magitech superiority, the dwarves are somehow alleged to have had a hand in his disappearance,” Arthur said the unspoken. He paused to gather his thoughts. “But for some reason, none of the races involved are saying a word because what? It might inflame tensions?”

“A plausible deduction,” Elder Volemhir said, looking towards the maw-shaped entrance of the dock. A weather ward kept out the elements. “Saying that, I want you to find the magier core—you may keep the ship of course.”

“Huh?! A Sylvani made ship?” Arthur gawped. “Wait wait wait. Isn’t this information based on speculation? And you want me to walk into a cold case and potentially, pardon my Dwarven, light another fire under my ass?”

Szephia hid a smile as she tried in vain not to burst into laughter.

“I would think that the reward is commensurate with the risk, no? Where else would you get a ship for the artefact you possess?” Elder Volemhir asked, quirking his brow.

‘Damn oldie. Way to go,’ Arthur mulled tousling his hair in exasperation. The Elder was hedging his bets. He knew that Arthur had the capabilities of sygnumeracy, and that he had a hand in what had happened on the other side of the Humpbeast Ridges.

They had already talked about the mana storm and mana poisoning. Szephia had been there to get his testimony off the record so that he could clear his name and get that vouch of identity. Without a vouch of identity, there could be no patenting his Magier Engine. A magical patent would enforce Arthur’s ownership and protect him from those who would hold him ransom for it.

And Elder Volemhir was rather greedy in that regard; shamelessly greedy. On one hand, he wanted the Magier Engine patented through their Crafter’s Grove. On the other hand, he wanted to make sure that Ascal Cornierva’s work did not fall to the dwarves. Arthur was virtually the stone that would hit two fowl in one blow. What he was going to do would potentially paint a target on his back, but that was a matter of when, not if.

“What does this magier core look like?” Arthur prompted.

“I shall leave that up to you to find out,” Volemhir said, lips crinkling with a transient grin.

“Right, I didn't think it'd be easy—” Arthur said.

“It would be remiss of me to send you unprepared,” Elder Volemhir said. “However, before we do that, you would do well to receive your companion. “ he said, gazing towards the aer dock’s entrance.

A look of recognition crossed Arthur’s face as he followed his line of sight. Though the sky outside was blurry as though seeing it through poorly glazed glass, the two silhouettes growing larger by the moment were hard to miss.

“Young Faerieborn. With me,” Arthur heard the Elder say as both the sylvmaid and the Elder pivoted to take their leave. With butterflies aflutter in his stomach, Arthur waited for Nora to arrive; on the wing of a wyvern.

---

The beasts that touched down a couple of paces from Arthur had a wingspan close to 11 metra and might have been as long as 12 from snout to tail. That was just barely the size of a Spitfire warplane from WWII and while they didn’t spit actual fire, they were no less deadly predators in the air.

If you choose to look past that fact, despite their imposing size, the wyverns were cute. Like red-eyed-crocodile-skink-with-wings cute. Faerie wyverns were just pleasing to look at; their more feral cousins, not so much.

The creatures landed and hobbled the last few metras on their knuckles. The motion was reptilian, more graceful than a gator and less clumsy than a bat on the ground. Their prominent colours were a subdued charcoal grey and green.

A crimson crest undulated, shuddering with every ripple of the muscles that rippled across their bodies, proclaiming the veracity of the beasts’ power. Striations of red flowed from the tip of their snouts to the end of their fin-like tails.

However, the thing that caught his attention were the front-facing operculi that opened and closed like the vents on a supercharger.

As they came alongside, light green eyes with nictitating membranes regarded him almost curiously from alongside a reptilian visage. There were spikes running from the back of its neck under the saddle to the tail like a crocodile's, while twin back curving nubs that could’ve been growing horns sat atop its flaring nostrils.

Wound around its snout was a bridle, but the reins were threaded along harnesses around the wyvern's head and sinewy neck before disappearing into the saddle at the back. Rather than stirrups, there were some kind of footrest like the ones on a bike, which worked like pedals.

The bulges and metal housings on the saddle housed some kind of mechanism made of cams and pulleys that adjusted the tautness of the reins and the harnesses against the wyvern's belly to signal it to turn or manoeuvre.

In effect, riding a wyvern was no different from riding a racing bike, where the rider leaned forward. And one of those riders was Nora, bundled up in black wurmhide leather fitted to her form. She looked up from atop her mount, pulling back her cowl to shake her platinum blonde tresses free like a model in a commercial.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

Heart shaped lips crinkled in a smile as crimson upturned eyes regarded Arthur from beneath frosty eyelashes. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Or perhaps it was shyness? Arthur did not even remember approaching the wyvern, uncaring of the warm breath emanating from its operculi as he threw his arms open.

Nora barely hesitated as she dismounted and crashed into Arthur in a fervent embrace. The top of her head just came under his chin. The leather was cold from her flight, but her head and hands were warmer than the last time Arthur remembered.

“Arthur,” Nora murmured, squeezing him as though his presence was ephemeral.

“Nora,”Arthur replied in kind, formalities forgotten. Whether he intended it or not, the dhampir was going to be a constant in his life on Eryth. She was the only one he could reasonably trust to have his back; she had earned it.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Nora said, staring up to him. “They said you had disappeared and wouldn’t tell me where. I thought you’d left me behind.”

Arthur winced; he found himself stroking the back of her head. “Yeah, this and that happened, “ he said, blushing furiously at her straightforwardness. “There is a lot I want to tell you. I am glad you are safe.”

“Er,” a familiar voice said, clearing their voice from the side. “If you are done, the [Mage Scout] would like to see you.” Galearon grinned.

“Ah, [Watch Ranger]. Didn’t see you there.” “Pardon me.” Arthur and Nora said respectively, suddenly separating and looking abashed. The Sylvani Watch Ranger had a rather inscrutable expression as he fumbled with the wyvern’s saddlebags.

Arthur could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come to terms with what might have happened a few days past. Arthur had been stuck for three days in that mysterious realm.

“I didn’t know you could ride a wyvern,” Arthur said, aiming to clear the awkwardness before it could ensue.

“Me too,” Nora grinned, reaching for the beast. She stroked the crest beneath the head as big as her torso. The wyvern purred like a feline engine.

‘If those things bother aerships when feral,’ he shuddered. ‘I have to revise my plans for the aership. Stronger glass canopy,’ he gulped. ‘Stronger hull…Iron wood. Weapons…ballistas and magic cannons.’ He clenched his fists. His blood pumped, and it wasn’t from anxiety or fear; it was plain unbridled excitement.

 

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---

“The Grove is bigger on the inside,” Nora observed.

“It is. But wait till you hear about entire rooms that can move around,” Arthur said. They were in a new part of the complex with the same hallways Arthur had seen on his way to the Elder’s study. The doors were almost innumerable and the hallways labyrinthine.

Without the help of Iridelle and Aithlin, a sylvani and a sylvmaid in Szephia’s cohort, they would have lost their way. All compunctions of formulating an escape plan just in case things went awry were scrapped before they even manifested. The two were admitted into a palatial suite, a penthouse rather, on one of the top floors before their shadows stood guard outside.

The penthouse was just like the living quarters back at the Diplomat’s Grove, only bigger with a separate lounging area and dining area, a full kitchen, and a much bigger library in its own space.

Where the loft should have been, there were bifurcated stairs leading to four ensuite bedrooms big enough to be studio apartments. The upper hallway was also connected to another staircase that continued to climb elsewhere, maybe the attic or unused rooms.

Szephia was in the living room, sitting on the lounge seat when they arrived. She stood up when the two made their appearance, throwing a nod of recognition towards Nora as she motioned for them to sit. There were drinks already prepared; it looked like it would be a while before they would have some time to themselves.

“The Esteemed Elder has tasked you with a significant undertaking,” the sylvmaid started. Nora threw Arthur a questioning glance.

“By all means I would deem it foolhardy and perhaps insurmountable, “ Szephia sighed. She paused to take a sip of whatever beverage had been prepared for them.

“However, the Esteemed Elder’s machinations are far reaching and too nuanced for my level of statecraft to glean.”

“What is it that has been asked of us?” Nora started. “I hope that, for our sakes, it is not unsavoury business. I left that line of work behind me,” she trailed off, looking towards Arthur to gauge his reaction.

“What? Oh,” Arthur said, as realisation dawned on him. “No such thing Nora; there is no wetwork involved whatsoever.”

Nora nodded as she unclenched her pale palms, a visible sigh of relief escaping her lips. Arthur wet his throat with the beverage; a spicy blend that tasted of pineapple, passion fruit, ginger and honey that was mildly alcoholic.

“That said, it is my job to appraise you and prepare you accordingly; especially Master Arthur. Much of your foundation is lacking, or so I would like to think.” Szephia said. “I think your companion is somewhat capable. We have two nundines.”

“Why two?” Nora asked.

“Because we used a loophole to get you released. The [Arbour Sentinel] was the only one who could have overruled my decision to release you. Other Mage Scouts might not have been so forthcoming. What I do is none of their business but other Elders might decide to move in other ways. Not even the Matriarch can protect you,”

“The Matriarch?” Arthur asked looking up. “You met the Matriarch, Nora?”

Nora narrated how the Matriarch had heard about the Dhampir healer. She had come calling because of the novelty of her skills as a healer. [Blood Healer] was the rarest of the healer classes due to its unorthodox and perhaps unsavoury ways of acquisition.

However, its utility in combating poisons had prompted Matriarch Selessia’s interest, and as a result, Nora had been treated well. That Mage Scout Szephia was related to the Matriarch must also have been a factor, and no one batted an eye at Nora’s release. But they were not going to push their luck.

With two nundines to work with, Szephia broke down the list of things they would have to cover. On the outside, it looked simple with its objectives broken down. They had to settle in Aldmoor, nose around Ascal Cornieva’s house or lease the property if they could.

The caveat was that they would have to keep away from the dwarven mercenary corps, which was an outpost away by carriage, and squirrel away Ascal’s purported invention, if it was even there at all.

Nonetheless, the whys of how an Aesylvani-made longship had gone untouched in Ascal’s former residence were up in the air. There was no doubt the mercenary corps wanted to avoid incrimination in a Titled and Sovereign frontier town.

It was turning out to be a mercenary black ops mission of two people with an indeterminate time frame and untold resources. It might have been glamorous and worthy of an A-list movie but the ground work behind the scenes was another matter.

The planning put his nose to the grindstone for sure and if he succeeded, the rewards were massive. Having his identity as a crafter vouched for and affiliation with Lysfall’s Crafters Grove was also on the list of things he would gain. Also, the Esteemed Elder in his corner would go a long way towards helping him find his sister and potentially anyone else who would have been caught up.

“With that out of the way,” Szephia said, rising from her seat. “I shall take my leave. Aven tidings for now and have a pleasant rest.”

“ Aven tidings,” “ A pleasant rest to you too,” Arthur and Nora replied. Their hashing of preliminaries had been enough to drain the whole pitcher of honeydew. Now, as Szephia left, they had the whole suite to themselves.

---

“So…” Nora started. They’d appropriated one of the libraries because of its austere atmosphere and privacy. That said, it was no less cosy because it had a fireless hearth with illusion magic in place of actual wood and flame.

“Yeah. We really need to talk,” Arthur said, slumping back against the padded chaise lounge. Nora sat on a high back chair, like a therapist seeing their client. A brief lull; a breath long passed. Nora was content to wait, seeing as Arthur was wrestling with his thoughts. When he finally seemed like he was resolved, he said,

“Nora. I am dragontouched and I come from a land far from here.” Arthur said, earnestly meeting her eyes.

“You’re not lying,” Nora’s eyes went round, almost jerking from her seat. “That explains everything.”

“Eh?” Arthur swept his legs off the chaise, an obtuse look on his face.

“You knew?” Arthur gawped.

“Not really, no,” Nora said, shaking her head in embarrassment. “I have an uncanny intuition, at least that would explain your blood’s mana density. You also might have a strange accent and mannerisms,” she said, blushing furiously.

“Is that so?” Arthur remarked with a wry smile. “I thought I was good at hiding things from most people.”

“From the rest of the clan perhaps… However I am not most people,” Nora smiled.

“I should probably thank you for looking out for me then,” Arthur said, scratching at the nape of his neck.

“So then, which lands do you come from? Occidania? Past the Cern’Orbis Ocean perchance, the Jhordic Northlands?” Nora piped up.

‘Huh?’ “Not even close, Nora.” Arthur chuckled, almost tearing up.

“The Túran Imperium of the dragonkin? At least that might explain why you’re dragontouched,” she mumbled unsure.

“Stop stop―” Arthur said, putting up his hands to forestall her train of thought. ‘ Now that I think about it, mentions of beings from another realm in Eryth’s history are only tied to the Fiends, Faeries and monsters in dungeons.’ Arthur mulled. ‘ So how am I supposed to explain the concept of another world? The phone? How do I explain a world without magic?’

Arthur had never thought that trying to explain that he was from another world could be harder than hiding it.

“Arthur,” Nora said, grasping his wrist.

“Huh?” Arthur started, snapping out of his funk.

“You’ll run yourself bald thinking about it; I would like your hair where it is,” Nora said smilingly.

“Ah, heck of a colour I have eh?” Arthur grinned. “It's close enough to yours too.”

“Mmh,” Nora nodded. “It's all the proof I need to tell me you’re not lying. Or rather, my intuition was right. I have never been so wrong before.”

“You mean with the clan?” Arthur asked.

“Yes. I thought they would keep their word; I have been with them for decades, you know,” Nora said. “I never realised that I would not truly fit in. They kept a lot of things from me.”

“I suppose, people have a lot of layers to them…like alliums. You never truly know who they truly are unless they show you.”

“They were rotten alliums. I have been so naive Arthur―” Nora murmured.

“Hey now,” Arthur said, stilling her trembling hands. “No-one can blame you. If it's any consolation, I also knew I could see it coming but damn, even I didn’t expect Livierre to be the coup de grace. Speaking of showing…”

Arthur retrieved his smartphone from [Inventory Chest].

“That artefact,” Nora gasped. “You were doing something with it before―”

“Yes, before I went critical,” Arthur chuckled, as he unlocked his phone. “I guess since I cannot explain it, I wanted to show you instead, “ he added, scrolling to the phone gallery. Then he began to show Nora his world.

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