The High Sanctum glistened with gold trimmings and onyx pillars, stained glass windows beckoning in the light of the setting coastal sun. Many rows of pews stretched out from the edge of the stage where Drake stood, and ran to the back of the sanctum where two doors of ridiculous size stretched up a giant’s height.
On the stage were three others, whom Drake owed total respect. Arch-Commander Vash in his black and gold armor, High-Speaker Duncan in white and ebony robes, and Executor Naline in her traditional ivory plate-steel. These three were the high-council, of high-sanctum, standing upon the high-city, by order of the high-powers of the Obelisk.
The room was warm with thousands of other knights, squires, nobles, and similar folk gathered tightly in the pews and standing with reverence at the ceremony unfolding.
At the foot of the stage was a Knight-Attendant, young Alaesh. She kneeled with her head bowed, her armor sparkling clean—as Drake had taught her—and who had laid her sword on the foot of the stage.
Drake adjusted his collar so he could swallow. His mind wandered to memories of the young Attendant. She had once been a small thing, smaller than most. A girl whose village had been sacked by daemons. Drake recalled the very moment he’d slain an imp that was ready to carve out her eyes, but his sword had nary struck the blow that sent the spawn back to Infernos. No, it had been this little girl who’d snatched Drake’s secondary sword from his hip and slashed at the creature. Her eyes had shone with fire, and her only words were, “We need to kill more of the wretches.” From then on, Drake had taken her in to learn the ways of his order as an orphan squire, as most of those in the Knights of the Obelisk had been at their start.
Now Sergeant Drake did not look upon a child, but a young woman grown and whose hair had been cast aside so it could not be grabbed, and whose boyish face bore scars of hard training and valiant battle.
Well done, kid. Well done.
“Knight-Attendant Alaesh,” High-Speaker Duncan began. “You have returned from your pilgrimage. Have you brought evidence of your triumphs?”
Alaesh nodded, eyes pointed down at the sanctum’s red carpet. “Yes, High-Speaker.” She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small rock, no more than the length and width of her thumb. It was jagged, black, with violet veins running along its form. A shard of the Old Obelisk.
A ripple of relief washed over Drake. It would have been quite embarrassing to go through all this ceremony had she failed.
Arch-Commander Vash smiled brick-ishly. “Well done. You have brought back a sacred shard of the great Obelisk, and with your achievement, you will be blessed with the full rank of Knight. Do you accept this responsibility?”
Alaesh tightened her grip on the shard and looked up, piercing green eyes like fel-fire. “Yes, Arch-Commander. For the rest of my days.”
The council looked at each other and nodded.
The last to speak was Executor Naline, whose greying hair was tied back in a strict bun. “Very well, young Alaesh. By the blessing of the Obsidian Spire, and the power of our council, may you protect, understand, and serve the Great Obelisk all your days, until the world shatters. Rise, and bind your oath to your liege mentor.”
“Oh, right,” Drake muttered, nearly forgetting his role in this show. He waddled to the front of the stage and stepped carefully down to meet Alaesh, who still kneeled. “Ehem. Knight-Attendant, present the shard.”
Alaesh raised the humble artefact.
It was ice cold in Drake’s grip as he took it. He revealed a similar shard strung around his neck, which he had to pry out of his tight armor. Her shard was half the size of this one, one he’d found on his own pilgrimage to the Arid Wastes many years before her; there were fewer shards to be found in those lands now. He held both of them out in separate palms.
Alaesh stood now and faced him. She sucked in a steady breath and set her hands upon Drake’s. Her fingers were trembling.
He gave her a subtle wink and she relented an uneasy grin. That settled her hands.
“Repeat this oath,” Drake ordered. “Black as night. Bright as day.”
“Black as night. Bright as day,” she replied, her voice shaking beneath a mask of sturdiness.
“Noble as hope. Cunning as truth.”
“Noble as hope. Cunning as truth.”
“Protector of ancient. Keeper of new.”
“Protector of ancient. Keeper of new.”
“By this oath, I listen, I speak, I serve.”
“By this oath, I listen, I speak, I serve.”
“May the Obelisk be my words and my thoughts, my actions and my feelings, my heart and my soul. Amen.”
“May the Obelisk be my words and my thoughts, my actions and my feelings, my heart and my soul. Amen.”
With those final words, the crystals in Drake and Alaesh’s hands glowed vibrant purple, the shards running with light in their veins.
Drake hated how itchy this process was, but in a matter of seconds it was over, and Alaesh’s shard now glowed the same as his.
The council spoke in unison. “Welcome, Knight Alaesh!”
The audience rose up with the same call. “Welcome, Knight Alaesh!”
The young knight beamed at Drake.
“Welcome, kid,” he winked.
And that was about all he could recall of the ceremony after an afternoon of drinking moonshine in the barrack’s cellar. His head throbbed when light pierced his eyelids the next day.
“Blasted afterlives!” he swore, shielding his eyes.
“Drunk from a night of prayer, aye, Sergeant?”
Drake sighed, rubbing his temples and using his bedsheets to shield his face. Bedsheets? Hmm. Apparently he’d made it to his bed somehow. “Just because you’re a knight now doesn’t mean it's wise to go disturbing your higher ups.”
“Right. . . Well,” Knight Alaesh cooed, “the Arch-Commander has summoned us for a mission.”
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Drake sat up slowly, his mind swimming. “What?”
“There was a rider in the night from Maplebrook. Guess there’s some goings on there, but the Arch-Commander won’t say what.”
Wonderful.
***
===
Jevrick’s Quest: Become Mayor of Maplebrook
Side Quests:
- Meet with the Kobold King
- Deal with the Kobolds and Bandits
Maplebrook’s Population: 998
===
It had been a long night to get to the kobold’s hovel. As Atan had suggested, the kobolds did indeed use an unreasonable amount of traps and much of the travel time was spent hopping over tripwires, ducking under hidden spikes, and avoiding covered pits. But, we did eventually make it to the side of a hill where Kipsic had pulled up a patch of grass, which had actually been a hidden door. We hadn’t run into any other kobolds on our journey however, which struck me as odd since Atan had insisted they traveled in packs. Though, if they were all able to camouflage themselves as Kipsic had, well, it was reasonable to assume many more were watching us.
The hovel entrance wasn’t quite made to accommodate men of our size, but Kipsic reassured us that the inside was far more spacious. After some deliberating, the knight relented to the necessity of doffing his armor. I was able to use my spectral hand cantrip with a torch to see deep enough in the tunnel to tell that it was in fact spacious enough for us. It took some more coercion to get Atan to actually go inside, which came in the form of me reminding him about our pact. Finally, he agreed to go in, dragging his armor behind him with a rope.
After an interval of tight crawling, we were eventually welcomed by the coziest of dens. Atan and I could barely stand, though Kipsic did provide us with long benches that served well as beds. Of course, I had no need for sleep, but it did give me ample chance to regenerate my connection with the aether.
I had a simple recovery process. I merely closed my eyes and focused on the invisible force of magic that permeated the air around me. After an hour or so of deep breathing, I would be rejuvenated enough to carry out the next day.
Atan on the other hand was not so easily rested. He still slept hours after we had found this sanctuary, his legs hanging over the side of the bench.
Kipsic curled up next to me, and I had the instinct to pet him—oh, right—Kipsic was evidently a him! I stroked his back along bumpy scales like one might pet a hairless dog. His body relaxed at that.
As the night passed, I procured a small spellbook from my satchel. I flipped through the pages and pondered over what spells I wanted prepared for the coming day. Every page in the book possessed a name, such as Animate Object, Dark Flame, or Visage. The pages were otherwise blank for those spells which I currently had prepared, whereas spells I had yet to prepare possessed full text of runes and ancient words. I thumbed through the hundreds of spells as I thought through what would make best for the next day’s offerings. I was powerful, and could prepare a reasonable amount of spells, but not all of them. Of course, I could still cast spells without preparing them, but it took far more time to do so. For example: Chains of Erabos was a spell I was currently prepared with, so the spell effect was near instantaneous. However, if I had to cast it via reading the incantation, then the spell would take a fair interval to take—as I would have to read the whole blasted page! Some spells took upward of an hour to read in entirety, not to mention accurately. One flub up could see the incantation completely fizzle out, which was a needless waste of materials, as those would also be consumed in the attempt.
Now, there were some incantations that were so simple that I needn’t prepare them or write them down at all, simple cantrips that were perfect for quick and frequent casting. All it took was a phrase or simple motion of the hand to make such spells work, and rarely cost any components to execute. Though, sometimes I’d add an extra flourish or emphasis when casting such spells just to get into the spirit. The spirit was what mattered most. One had to believe what they were doing. There was no-half doing magic.
Anyway, I consulted the spells I currently had prepared:
===
Cantrips:
- True Sight (Arcane and Blood)
- Create Fire (Arcane and Elemental)
- Siphon Soul (Blood)
- Spectral Hand (Arcane and Blood)
Blah, blah, blah—the rest of these are not important right now. . .
Prepared Spells:
- Animate Object (Arcane)
- Chains of Erabos (Arcane and Blood)
- Dark Flame (Arcane and Blood)
- Levitate Object (Arcane)
- Portal (Arcane)
- Aether Harvest (Arcane)
- Raise Thrall (Blood)
- Resurrection (Arcane and Blood)
- Sleep (Blood)
- Visage (Blood)
===
Dark Flame, Resurrection, and Visage hardly seemed worth keeping for now. Dark Flame was fairly costly, needing both an arcane and blood component in order to cast, and I very much doubted that bandits would present much in the way of magical harm beyond drugs and poison—that spell’s main strength serving as a reflection of powerful magic. The renegade druid might be problematic to deal with, depending on his capabilities, but blood magic was weak to elemental magic. Even if the druid relied on trees and flowers, Dark Flame would barely be effective as the flames weren’t actually incendiary.
As for Resurrection, I no longer possessed the main components to cast it, and thus didn’t warrant keeping memorized until I did. Hopefully no one I killed in the following days needed to come back.
Lastly, Visage was a spell that served well when treating with mortals, but based on Kipsic’s infatuation with me I wondered if my true form would serve me better than my human one. Not to mention the fear I could strike in the bandits with a simple stare.
I pressed my hand against the empty pages of those spells and felt my arms and torso tingle as my anima released the magical text from it and back into the tome. Runes and words faded back into place where I had borrowed them.
Then I flipped through my spellbook in search of three spells that might be both cost efficient and useful for our journey. I paused on a very rare spell. Anima Vivifica. A ritual that would serve its purpose sometime in the near future, should things play out as intended. But not yet.
The spells I selected were Force Darts, Darksight, and Sense Mind. Force Darts sent out charged bolts of aether that would allow me to handle multiple targets at range. Darksight would allow me to see in the darkness of the tunnels more effectively without the use of torches. Lastly, Sense Mind allowed me to gain a cursory sense of thoughts from sentient beings nearby, which I figured might aid in detecting any hidden enemies.
To bind these spells to my anima, I simply pressed my hands on their pages and took in a deep breath of aether to allow the magic to imbue me. In a reverse of the process to unburden myself, the text on those pages faded as their power attached to me.
The process of choosing and swapping out my spells took a couple of hours, but still not enough time for the Paladin or Kispic to awaken. It didn't matter, I needed to confirm the materials I had in my satchel.
===
Components -
Catalyst: Arcane Focus, Soul Gem (Filled)
Base: Vials of Blood, Pouches of Bonemeal, Various Aether-Infused Flowers, Sack of Soil.
Main:
- Cat Eyes
- Flattened Tin Top
- Glass Bulbs
- Jar of Fireflies
- Lead Bullets
- Miscellaneous Faces
- Miscellaneous Hands
- Miscellaneous Hearts
- Moonlit Chains
- Obsidian Glass
- Polished Iron Ingot
- Spider Silk
- Sprite Dust
- Various Slivers of Metal
And other stuff that doesn’t matter for now. . .
===
I spent the rest of the time reflecting upon my journey so far. I hoped that Maplebrook was ok. I hoped that they realized the lengths I was going to try and protect them. I hoped that, maybe foolishly, I might see a statue erected of me right next to Clyde’s when I returned. Wouldn’t that be nice?
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