Across from him stood Dace, calm, hands folded behind his back, and Reetz, silent and unmoving, eyes sharp as glass.
DACE
REETZ
Levy gritted his teeth and pulled harder.
The vines didn't budge.
Dace sighed, almost bored.
"It's useless to struggle," he said evenly. "Those are Working Flower Vines. Most Artimancers favor the dramatic, Grave Hands clawing their way from the soil. But there are... more refined disciplines."
He gestured subtly toward the vines.
"Grave Traps."
Levy scoffed through heavy breaths.
"I've heard of Grave Traps," he said. "Haven't seen one till now."
Dace tilted his head. "Are you impressed?"
Levy barked out a laugh.
"Heck no. Grave Hands are way cooler. I'm gonna get out of here you just wait and see. I am the second strongest artimancer to ever live."
Dace studied him, really studied him, eyes narrowing, curiosity replacing irritation.
Levy felt the akward observation.
"...Is it true," Levy asked slowly, "that my father plans to help execute all the Knights?"
"Yes, those are Sephisses orders" Dace answered plainly.
Levy's voice cracked as it rose.
"Even my mother?"
Dace didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The words landed like a blade.
Levy's breath hitched. His struggle stopped completely, shoulders sagging as reality caught up to him.
Dace stepped closer.
"You must understand, Levy. We Artimancers are the ultimate authority over those who govern through power."
"That's insane," Levy snapped, looking up. "What did the Knights do that deserves death? What did innocent people do?"
Dace's expression didn't change.
"Because that is hierarchy."
Levy shook his head.
"I get hierarchy. But are we killing people because we want to, or because the King told us to? If it's the second, then what are we? Machines? Where's the honor in that?"
Dace exhaled softly, almost disappointed.
"You ask important questions," he admitted. "But the answer is simple. Artimancers do not decide right and wrong. We enforce those who do."
He turned slightly, pacing.
"That is how we survive. Across the Sky Lands, generation after generation, Artimancers have aligned with the establishment. And we are rewarded for our practicality."
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Reetz finally spoke, her voice low and precise.
"In the Old World," he said, "there were Constants and Liberators.
The Constants clung to order so tightly it became tyranny and oppression.
The Liberators preached absolute freedom and progressiveness, until ideology fractured them into endless factions that devoured one another."
She looked down at Levy.
"Artists with beautiful dreams... and catastrophic rules."
Levy stared, unsettled.
"The Artimancers," Reetz continued, "stood in the center. We let both sides destroy each other. Then we pledged loyalty to the victor."
Levy whispered, "...That's wrong, just siding with the victor, what if the victor wants to just murder people, like the king or what if they want to enslave us, we just kneel to them?"
Dace smiled faintly.
"Levy," he said, "do you think Zoners, Artists, and Artimancers are the same?"
Levy hesitated.
His mother's smile flashed in his mind.
The Zoner people.
Braxill.
"...No," he said quietly. "I don't think we are. But I don't even know if I have the right to think this way. Not long ago, I didn't even believe in God."
Dace nodded.
"Artimancers do not belief in Gods. Gods are impractical constructs. Historically, belief in them has birthed superiority complexes."
He began listing calmly:
"The Crusades.
The Thirty Years' War.
The Inquisitions.
Holy Wars justified by divine mandate."
Levy snapped.
"No, you're wrong!"
Both Artimancers turned.
"I saw Joy," Levy shouted. "He's real! He shot lightning from the sky and killed a parasite. He fed the Zoner people, real food, and he made ice cream!"
Reetz blinked.
"...Ice cream."
"Yes!" Levy said desperately. "It's this really cold stuff, And it was good. And my mom, she's not an Artimancer, but she loved it too. Joy made something for everyone. If being different mattered that much, we couldn't all enjoy mango flavoured ice cream at te same time"
Reetz "What is he talking aboout, what the heck is ice cream."
Levy "Aghhh, it's surface food."
Dace stared at him, something dark and curious flickering behind his eyes.
"Do you love your mother?" Dace asked softly.
Levy swallowed. His eyes burned.
"Yeah, she pretty cool."
"Would you abandon the Artimancers to save her?"
Levy shook his head.
"I wouldn't abandon my people. But I won't let them hurt my mother and friends."
Dace's voice sharpened.
"Then you would become an enemy of the Royals."
"Maybe," Levy said, lifting his head. "But I think it's right. And if that means fighting the King while everyone else kneels, then I'll be the Artimancer who proves we don't exist beneath Artists or Royals."
Silence.
Dace "What about your father, he may not have the same resolve as you?"
Levy "My Dad wouldn't really hurt mother, he complains about her but deep down I think he misses her."
Reetz's gaze pierced him.
Dace was highly entertained by the child.
"One last question," he said. "Who is the strongest Artimancer to ever live?"
Levy's eyes fell.
"...My father, he can use Grand Macer 2, then it's me"
Dace smiled faintly.
"What if I told you I was stronger than him?"
Levy looked up, focused, unafraid.
"You're not."
"Even with these traps?" Dace said to himself.
He sighed.
"Children," he muttered. "Empty canvases blinded by their own dreams."
He gestured to Reetz.
"Untie him."
Levy's eyes widened.
"Wait, you're letting me go?"
The vines loosened, slipping away like dying roots.
"You love your mother," Dace said simply. "I won't stand between that."
Levy whispered a stunned thank-you and ran.
Dace scratched inside his ear absently as Levy disappeared down the corridor.
Reetz frowned.
"You sure about this, Levin gonna be pissed off?"
"The boy has the will of a Titan," Dace replied.
"An overstatement," Reetz said. "His Artimancery is insignificant."
Dace smiled, slow, dangerous.
"To us," he agreed. "But tha's because he's a child, I can see the future and he has the potential to redefine what it means to be an Artimancer."
He turned to face Reetz fully.
Hierarchy breeds obedience. Collaboration breeds manipulation. Until Artimancers stop seeing themselves as servants or comrades and recognize themselves as superiors, our position in soicety will never change. That is not practical.