Chương 224: Chapter 297 - Positioning

Together, Song Jei and Iliya Torres looked over a copy of a part of the schematics for what Mirian had humbly called her "leyline regulator." It was sort of like calling the Labyrinth a series of hallways, or the sun a glyph lamp. The device, when complete, was supposed to be the size of a city. Not a particularly small city, either. Torrviol by now had been almost entirely evacuated, except for the militia and army members who would continue to fortify the town.

The academy's arcanists joining in on the project were still working on forming working groups to either teach needed skills or develop artifice production pipelines. Iliya scratched her head.

"She says we've done it before. I have my doubts. I don't even recognize most of these glyphs."

"They're runes," Selkus said from one table over, looking over his own fragment of the schematic. Iliya didn't envy him; his part of the project was, if anything, more complicated than hers. She just had to deal with glyphs—and runes, apparently. He had to deal with several hundred types of plants, all of which would be grown in stages around the entire circumference of the device. This was, apparently, not an optional part of the design, but critically key to the function of the regulator.

However, Even Svani Endresen didn't know the arcane physics behind however that worked. If they'd needed to grow it in Baracuel, even the scrublands would have been fine. But Mirian wanted them to grow this all in the middle of the Persaman desert, by some ruined city that she'd never even heard of. It was a good thing Selkus was in charge of that part. Iliya knew she was a genius. The ease at which she'd been certified as a master artifice, the innovations she'd made, the prototypes she'd helped develop…

people had said she would be the next Tyrcast. Now she'd been humbled. She felt like a child staring at the insides of an illusion engine.

"The main conduits are simple, at least, as long as she can deliver the arcanists we need to grow them," Song said, speaking her native Gulwenen. Mirian had casually handed the group six devices from the Labyrinth that grew perfect conduit crystals. Mining teams in Persama were, apparently, already moving ore into position and starting on digging out trenches.

Here in Alkazaria, the rest of them were making preparations, working on producing the components here where full artificing factories could make the more delicate parts. Or had been; their group was scheduled to start moving to Mayat Shadr today. Iliya went over to the window. From it, she could just make out the ports, where dozens of ships were being loaded up with gear to be shipped south to Falijmali.

Trains had been arriving all day with refugees from Cairnmouth, while the Elder Gate below the city had been letting out a stream of people from Palendurio.

"This isn't going to be enough. This isn't going to even be close to enough. I've sat in a lot of meetings about military logistics. Baracuel can't supply the war effort and a project this big. Not in the timeframe given. Can Zhighua really…?" Song looked at Iliya and raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what you're really worried about." Iliya grimaced internally.

"I don't like to badmouth my students."

"She's not your student anymore."

"Easy to say. Hard to grasp."

"Over a hundred years in the loop, Iliya. She's older than both of us combined." The words came spilling out.

"How do we know she's telling the truth? How do we know this device does what she says? You've seen those pamphlets that are getting passed around—what if she really is trying to end the world instead?" Song nodded.

"Good. Stab at the heart of the issue, don't bite around at the sides. First, wanting to end the world is a nonsensical motivation. Even the other Prophets are doing it because if they succeed then the world won't actually end in the next iteration. Second, we have confirmation these magical eruptions have been happening decades ago. Third—" Another woman's voice broke through.

"Third, you have a reliable source who can vouch for her. Hello, Song." Iliya turned in time to see Song's eyes widen.

"Zhuan!" She'd never seen Zhuan before. Song had gotten a letter from her once every few years while she was living in Torrviol, until one day the letters had stopped coming. They had similar, stern continences, though Zhuan was clearly older with her silver hair. Something was off about her eyes, too. Belatedly, Iliya realized her dark eyes had a subtle glow to them. The two women embraced each other. Song pulled away and gave her old colleague a serious stare.

"So she is…?"

"As steadfast as I am. Come, I just redirected this Gate to the Jiandzhi. I'll be leading your groups to Mayat Shadr. The sociopolitical dynamics in this cycle are more prone to volatility, so we have little time. This excursion is already an indulgence on my part. Viridian, the Gate will redirect to Ukalax again sometime tomorrow. You have your samples?" Selkus nodded, the grin on his face making him look at least a decade younger.

"All packed up. These hybrid myrvites are fascinating. May I ask how you—?"

"No. There will be time when this is all done, I assure you." To the room, she said louder, "Artificers, with me." A dozen people rolled up their own schematic copies and started following the Zhighuan woman. Iliya rolled up her own and followed.

"It really can be done?"

"Yes," Zhuan said.

"Though I will admit, we were never able to do a full test run of this scenario, for obvious reasons." Song was looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"This Gate leads to… the Jiandzhi?"

"Yes."

"You intend to move artifice overland through the land of spires?"

"Yes." Song's jaw clenched and unclenched several times.

"You are aware…? Yes, you are aware. Apologies, but I can only think of problems with the plan." Zhuan smiled.

"You weren't here when Mirian led her little friend through here a few days ago. I assure you, though, it will work. Far better than trying to brave the eastern storms or trying to move through Urubandar after Gabriel's had a few weeks to poison the minds of the populace. And far better than trying to deal with moving material from the bottom of the Mahatan Oasis or across the northern desert. The secondary laborers can afford the delay; the primary design team can't." They made their way through Alkazaria Academy.

More of Zhuan's retinue was spread out, leading contingents pulled from the artifice's college here, as well as the local artificers. Outside the building, they could see the chaos of the city. Tens of thousands of people had been pouring into the city, first the people who answered Mirian's initial call, then refugees from west Baracuel looking to escape the fighting. As they approached the area south of Citadel, they saw hundreds of carts lined up, waiting to descend down to the Gate.

Zhuan snapped out orders, fluidly swapping between Gulwenen and Cuelsin depending on who she was talking to. Iliya had seen experienced generals with less presence of command. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. With Prophet Zhuan by them, they quickly bypassed the line of carts and people slowly moving through the Gate. Thousands of people, all trusting in the orders Mirian had given, now followed a Zhighuan they didn't even know based on her word.

Iliya still couldn't grasp it. Mirian had been her student just a few weeks ago. She'd nearly died the first time she'd given a presentation. She still couldn't reconcile that young woman with… this. Soon enough they were at the Gate. There was another thing she couldn't wrap her mind around. Somehow, Mirian had solved an arcane puzzle that the greatest minds of Enteria hadn't been able to crack.

On the other side of the whirling sphere of magic, she saw the distorted movement of people, old ruins, and the jungle beyond. They stepped through. There was a large clearing around the Gate, with dozens of people directing traffic. As soon as the officials caught sight of Zhuan, they gave the customary bow of respect before continuing. Iliya felt the humidity and the heat wash over her. It'd been a long time since she'd been in Zhighua, and she didn't miss this part. She examined the old ruins around them.

Some of the lower sections had been cleared, but the upper parts of the derelict builds were still dripping with vines. One column of people were moving south along the route the Zhighuans had carved through the forest. That would mostly be industrial artificers, spell engine experts, and artisans specializing in mundane machinery; according to the plan, they'd be heading to Benansuo to help refine and bolster device production.

Coming from the south was another column, this one mostly of, from their dress, poor laborers. Song was staring at the column of people.

"She really did it," the woman whispered, a note of awe in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"The Zhighua I know was divided. Strangled. Dejected. When I left, it was easy to say goodbye, because I despaired that there was no hope for the future here. But… there's hope. Look at their faces. Look at—at this," Song said, gesturing at the rolled up schematic in her hand. Then she shook her head.

"I can't put it into words."

"It's like watching a military parade. When you see people organized like that, it stirs something in you. A pride in something bigger than yourself."

"Yes," Song said.

"Except not military parades. Those were always very boring to watch." Iliya chuckled. Song certainly wasn't one for mincing words. They moved to the northern part of the encampment, joining the large column that was assembling. At least a thousand marusaurs were scattered about, munching on foliage, unconcerned as caravaneers tied bags to the beasts. Far more people were crowded in the clearing, looking at the jungle with trepidation. She could see why.

There was an ominous hole in the foliage to the north, as if a great beast had passed by. Iliya felt her neck tightening. Zhuan was still shouting orders as they joined the northern camp, not breaking her stride as she did, only briefly interrupted by the reports messengers were handing her.

"Form up! Loggers to column one. Fire sorcerers, column two. Remember to keep control of your blazes. Engineers, bring up the rear!" Then, there was motion beneath the shadows of the canopy in front of them, inside that hole she'd been looking at. Iliya's heart started pounding faster.

"Zhuan," she said, mouth dry.

"Hmm, is our escort here? Ah, yes. I'll talk to them." Zhuan levitated forward as a colossal beast stepped forward, six glowing eyes examining the people spread before them suspiciously. It made rumbling noise. Then, it turned around.

"Excellent. Apophagorga reports they've cleared out the path ahead. Columns, proceed!" the Zhighuan Prophet shouted out.

"That's our escort?" Iliya whispered.

"I may not have mentioned this, but my good friend Zhuan has always been a little insane," Song said, her face just as pale as Iliya. And yet, as the titanic beast started plodding through the forest in front of them, the columns of people were following, even if they were giving the titan a healthy distance. World's gone mad, Iliya thought. But she followed too.

"Keep moving. Keep moving!" Betella shouted as another building crumbled nearby. Daith conjured another force shield, aura waning, breath coming hard. As the dust from the crumbling structure blew into them, he doubled over in a coughing fit, but stumbled on with the rest of the group, trying to keep up with his sister. They'd been tasked with helping the coastal towns of west Baracuel evacuate.

Daith had thought they'd just be providing security against the few wild myrvites in places where the spellward barriers had gone down. Instead, there was an Akanan battleship bombarding the town while flying skiffs ran sorties, picking off groups with artillery and spell barrages. There was another explosion nearby. Daith's force shield shattered, and he found himself stumbling. He hit the dirt and covered his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Combat Magic had not prepared him for this. He was going to die.

He felt a rough hand grabbing the back of his robe and hauling him up. One of the Pure Blade mercenaries, the big hulking one that looked more like a lumberjack than a battlemage.

"Come on, kid. Let's go," he said gruffly, dragging him forward until Daith found his feet. The man cast something in front of them, and a winding lightning bolt from above slammed into his spell with a resounding crack! that left Daith's ears ringing. Daith looked up to see an Akanan skiff moving overhead. His sister and several other Pure Blades were throwing up beam spells while a contingent of infantry fired a mix of spellpiercer rounds and magnetic detonation rounds.

The skiff fired another shot with its forward artillery, then veered off under the intensity of the return fire. Daith just wanted to hunker down and wait for it all to be over. His vision was tunneled, his heart was beating out of control, and his limbs were practically vibrating.

"Kid, that airship is calling in locations to the battleship. We have to move. I need you to run. I've got the shield, you just run, okay?" Daith swallowed and nodded. They took off, passing by a building that had been reduced to rubble. There was a dust-covered body sprawled out by it, but he couldn't think about that. He just had to move forward. More explosions went off nearby. His throat was raw from all the running, and from breathing in so much smoke.

"Over here!" his sister shouted. They ran into a smithy. It was an old building made of solid stone. As soon as they entered, he saw Betella channeling mana into an uncharged ward that was designed to reinforce the building. Daith was gasping like a fish out of water. He sat down hard. He'd never complain about Professor Cassius making them do exercise ever again. When he finally found his voice, he said, "What in the hells are they doing! They're just… they're blowing up everything! They're killing… everyone."

"Yeah," the gruff mercenary said, crouching down by the window. His eyes were on the door and the window. Betella looked grim.

"You shouldn't have… I shouldn't have let you come. This is what war is like. You shouldn't have to see it." The other mercenary grunted in agreement. Daith didn't know what to say to that. Now he had seen it. But now that he'd seen what they were doing, how could he not fight?

"I thought… I thought war was different now. There's rules to war. We learned about them in History of Combat Magic." The gruff man and his sister both shook their heads. The man said, "That's a thing you tell people because they don't like thinking about what war is. It's organized murder. Always has been. Always will be. The winners are all in high towers, and the losers are everyone else." Betella was looking at the man.

"You're unusually reflective today." He grunted.

"When an Elder God smites two of the people in charge of your merc band, it makes you think about things." The ground shook, then shook again. He peeked out the window, then ducked back down.

"They got the healing temple."

"Fuck," Betella said.

"Daith, you okay? I've got a remote whisper telling me we found another group of people trapped over by the bakery. If you want to stay here…?" Daith swallowed. He wanted to stay. It was terrifying out there. Betella and the other mercenary stood up and carefully approached the far door, checking the skies for the skiff with quick divination spells.

"Lock the door when we leave. They might start deploying squads here with those skiffs." No. He needed to be there for his sister. Needed to do something about those Akanan bastards.

"I'll help," he said, joining them. His sister looked like she was going to tell him no, but then she turned and led them forward. Once more, they ran out into the streets. All around them, black smoke continued to billow into the sky.