Chương 146: AF Chapter 145 – On Rending

The lugian fare was normally pretty plain and stolid, but they had plenty of Isparian guests and could cater to our tastes and preference for less, eh, tough food.

"So you're going to be giving a presentation," Princess Kristie began, and I held up a finger.

"I'm not the smith. You're going to give the presentation. I am going to be giving an addendum at the end for future meetings regarding magical lore." Her expression soured instantly.

"I could order you to do so?" she hedged fiercely.

"So you can ride in and save the day when I bollox up all the smithing and metallurgy terminology and have to give it anyway? Why not do it right from the start?" I asked with an upraised eyebrow. She scowled at me, I just looked back at her, and she finally threw up her hands.

"Fine. How do I start?"

"Ye establish that ye're a master o' the craft fast an' clear, knowin' the important stuff so they can acknowledge ye as an equal. Then go from there," the Mick related, nursing a stein of hard ale and watching us both in amusement.

"Normally, that would involve questions an' answers, give an' take from elders doubtin' ye're all that."

"Meh. We're Isparians. Do something dramatic. Plant Quaver in the middle of the floor, declare that you made this Sword of worldbone, and anyone who can make a better blade of the same stand forth and you'll call them Master. If they can't, they'd best shut up about your age, because you're going to be talking some deep stuff, and the stupid and foolish can just leave now." Kris looked at me, then over at the Mick inquiringly.

"Aye, that sounds like something stupidly rambunctious an' customs-cutting that an Isparian would do. If they get uppity just point at yer Sword an' challenge them t' make its equal. I… dinnae think they can. Ye've got nothing they know of in the way of magic on it t' compare to." He inclined his head thoughtfully.

"Ye didn't use the Biting Strike or Crushing Blow Runework on yer Quaver there… an'd I've not seen any use Cleaving Runes on any Weapon. Seeing it on the Staff o' the Mind there in a strange form were a bit o' a shock, once I understood what it meant."

"Huh." I glanced at Kristie.

"They had a Bludgeon Cleaving Rune formation before arriving here on Ispar, or discovered it soon after. If the Staff wasn't improved after it came here, it's the former."

"That layering system used was novel and nothing like the patterns in the fake Silifi of Crimson Stars," Kristie murmured in consideration.

"Yet they've not used it in anything else since, Lord Mick?"

"Nay, and I'd know. If it only worked on staves, well enough. For the chance t' wield a Cleaving Weapon, every man on the islands would be armed with one, an' the smiths would be going wild applying it t' every mace, hammer, an' staff design t' see if it could be adapted to other Weapons."

"But they aren't. Either they lost the knowledge, they can't replicate the Staff currently with the means at hand… or they never made it at all," Kris nodded.

"And since they don't understand it, that means they can't make it on their own."

"So, point two, do a Holopoint breakdown of the Staff of the Mind, laud whoever designed it, and ask for their name, you want to shake their hand and punch them for not making more of them!" I encouraged her, drawing out her smirk at the image.

"Aye, sounds reasonable. If'n they know not how t' make more o' them, ye just shamed them in the knowledge o' design an' construction o' one o' their own magical craft!" the Mick mused aloud.

"That should definitely establish my crafting bona fides," Kris had to agree, nodding slowly.

"The Lost Light? Silifi? Elemental Stones?"

"The Rose of Celdon?" I added, shaking the powerless Ring on my finger.

"There'll be finesmiths among those coming, right?" Kris asked the Mick quickly.

"Aye. Did ye ken the axes o' the brutes? Most o' them have cosmetic stone an' finework on 'em. If it's metal or crystal, the lugians love t' work with it. They'll be there, an' hanging on most every word ye speak, have no doubts. They have a special love o' diamonds in the culture, too."

"Purest of the earth's tears, can't imagine why," Kris nodded.

"How deep do we want to go with the spellcasting at this time?"

"I'll go with a demonstration of the minor powers and potential, but I'm not going full depth and painting an assassination target on my back immediately. I have to have a LOT of passive defenses up before then.

"Also, I don't want a Matrix design that the undead can pilfer in any form to their advantage. Negative energy matrices are usually unique in that they form to undead made from mortal Casters, they aren't learned after the fact… but I don't trust them not to find a workaround, although they didn't strike me as a particularly innovative culture. Obsessed with secrets they could bargain from elder powers does not good innovators make."

I shook my head at the thought of an undead civilization getting ahold of Metas, Weirding, and Efficient spells, especially with the mana restoration possibilities here. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"You started with a straight Arcane Matrix, right?" Kris asked, while the Lord Mick just listened attentively.

"Yes."

"And you've been adding Theurgic components to the other Traditions?" Kris went on calmly, accepting a bottle of wine she'd called for earlier.

"Yes. Divine and Heartsong, and the Pool Theurgy with the Isparian Tradition," I confirmed.

"But you said there's no Primal magic here…" Kris reminded me.

"There's not. I've been feeling for it, and if it's there, the gridmap of the ley lines in this place is totally obscuring it. I could potentially take Druid Levels, but there'd be nothing there except skill points.

"Divine magic," Lord Mick spoke up, eyeing me.

"We've… no active priests, wielding magic sacred to anything ye might truly call a god. It's just… other magic, save the Void Magic ye've confirmed t' be unclean, although it all be usin' the same Mana Pool…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"I believe one of the reasons the manafield here is so powerful is because so many of the various forms of magic are slurried together in a rough and unstable mana only kept bound by the power of the ley lines. It's just… breaking the ley lines is probably going to do something immense, and given the nature of at least one of the magicks bound there, probably bad."

"Bad?" Kris and Lord Mick asked together, staring at me.

"The Ley Line network under this island is effectively a massive Wondrous Machine on a geographic scale. The whole island is a magic item." I let that sink in before continuing.

"Arcane energy is very flexible, but Eldritch energy in particular has a very powerful aspect that concerns me when you're talking stuff of this size." The Mick just looked at Kris, who nodded slowly.

"Binding and Sealing…" The Mick slowly put down the ale he was raising towards his lips.

"I remind ye that I be familiar with some o' the shite Binding an' Sealing crap puts about. The Vissidal an' Dark Islands were both shoved t' the bottom of the sea when Grael were Bound by the Empyreans, an' the power required might well have doomed their Empire at the time."

"Aye, shoving the problem forward in time for unfortunate later generations to deal with, hopefully after he'd lost his power," Kris nodded, having torn off the cork of her wine with her teeth and taking a long swig, which she rolled around in her mouth for a minute before making a politely satisfied sound.

"Palm nuts, bananas, and pineapple? Well, in a pinch…"

"Well, if you think about it, you have this hugely powerful thing backed by the power of god-level entities definitely interested in messing around, powerful enough that the Deep feels threatened by them. They bound it here, instead of the heart of their Empire where their power was the greatest, and close to a sizable population of Ruschk, by your accounts, although we don't know if the Ruschk aren't found elsewhere," I pointed out for them.

"Only that never seen a Ruschk female have I, nor any being I know," Lord Mick supplied helpfully.

"They could have come here after Grael be bound, I dinnae know, or been just a minor tribe overlooked in the fighting."

"The location is the key part," Kris analyzed.

"Grael came here, they obviously couldn't easily force him to an island of all places, and they chose to Bind and Seal him here," she tapped the table with a black nail like a small hammer for emphasis, "rather than removing him to a more custom location which they could tailor to his specifics." I nodded slowly.

"And customizing is key to Binding and Sealing. Yet, they still chose to do it here." I repeated her own tapping. Lord Mick looked between us.

"Oh, weighty thoughts. There be something here they could draw on that were more powerful than making our dear Grael-thing its own custom cage?" he asked, frowning, and then blinking.

"Ye're saying the entire island is a Seal on something, lass?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't have a proper Commune with the land to find out, but I have a great suspicion that if I can map out even parts of it, they are going to look a LOT like a customized and ungodly powerful Sealing Formation.

"Just what is Sealed, I have no idea. It might not even have a physical body. It could be an entry to a cage at the center of the world. It could be thoughts, concepts, energies.

"It's warping Fate and causality enough to draw in stuff from all over the multiverse to here, on this island, and get everything to fighting atop it for who knows what reason. I'm not even sure the Entities being drawn here have any real idea why, and I severely doubt the undead Empyreans have any amount of understanding of the real significance of this place. They only enjoy its power and benefits, choosing to run here while the rest of the world was overrun with olthoi…"

It was Kris who broke the silence that followed.

"Could it be the gods who are Sealed away here, so no true Divine entities can exist here?"

"Aye. It could be the Worldheart and awareness of the Land Sealed away, that it not rise up and strike the makers down for daring to mess with its lifeblood of mana the way they are. It could be some great Evil not even the Entities messing here realize, or it could be some great Good whose foes captured it and bound it away, disguising its prison as a paradise of power for others to come and defend unknowingly to claim for their own.

"We don't know, but I'll stand by my supposition that the ley line Formation is a Seal of the highest size and power."

"How be that working with yer theory of us being stage actors for something in a play of their own design?" the Mick asked with frosty undercurrents.

"Someone had to make this place. Given the sheer amount of effort expended to do so, what makes you think they aren't still looking after it, in a fashion?" The Mick weighed that idea, and nodded slowly.

"And… they been guarding for so long, an' wanted a bit o' entertainment?" he hazarded.

"Or we are a research project. Or a tool. Or a resource." I put up my hands helplessly. Both of them took a drink in tandem.

"Bah, thinkin' about shite above me pay grade," the Mick groused sourly.

"The sad thing about being a proper senior adventurer is that there are very, very few people more qualified to think about such things," Princess Kristie said philosophically, and held out her bottle. The Mick hesitated, sighed, and reached out to tunk his tankard against the bottle of tropical wine.

"'Tis true," he admitted.

"Tis the ones who never face down the horrors of the dark, never see they really exist, who doubt they do exist, that get themselves set in political chairs an' really fuck things up for those who know what is Out There."

"What was your moment?" Kris asked with a knowing air.