Chapter 623: Small Enough to Be Big (Patreon)

Many of the people of the research team had a unifying thought. This thought was shared between some few members that knew one another and had a rapport.

The queen only received her role because of nepotism.

Some few quietly dissented against that opinion, arguing that the fact that she had become an S-rank spellcaster at all was evidence enough of her right to belong here. Still, there were quite a few stages of the pinnacle of magic. Ancient casters like Castro, Rowe, Moriatran, or Tarah could not be put on the same level as those that had just breached the barrier. Her knowledge, rather like an iceberg, was doubtlessly grand, yet surely tapered off at the top where it breached the water. Theirs were mountains, looming far above the sea.

Rowe the Righteous spoke to one such doubter hailing from the Great Chu. He listened patiently, not displaying the fickle wrath he was well known for. At the end, he suggested, “Why not give her some difficult questions? If she’s embarrassed, her authority over us will be lessened.” He prodded the man. “Put her words of treating all as equals to the test.”

Though the person Rowe spoke to did not immediately do as he suggested, the idea spread rapidly among the proud spellcasters assembled. As everyone else reviewed the notes that she had distributed, someone gained courage and walked up to her where she sat.

“Anneliese,” the man said boldly—a caster from the Great Chu. He knew her prowess on the battlefield, but the battlefield was not research.

“Yes?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Have you considered the possibility of the S-rank illusion spell [Unperson] being one of the points of attack?”

Anneliese nodded. “Yes. That’s one of the points of reference in the third booklet—I can’t recall the page, but it’s about midway through. I, myself, have scrutinized it in some detail. I wrote some of my thoughts on the matter within the annotations.”

Hearing his question answered thoroughly and respectfully, others yet approached the queen. They posed reasonable, if increasingly esoteric, ideas. No matter how thoroughly they delved, the queen had an answer ready for each and all. Moreover, she answered follow-up questions adroitly, demonstrating insight that did not come from rote memorization. Rowe continued to shepherd people into undermining her position, sometimes even directly supplying them questions they could ask her with a devious smile on his face.

Eventually…

“I don’t find your joke particularly funny,” Anneliese rebuked someone calmly.

“A joke? It’s a perfectly reasonable question,” a Magister of the Gray Owl defended. “Is there some reason you can’t answer it?”

“Your question was answered on the first page of the notes I distributed,” she retorted, then looked around. “It appears I need to give clearer direction, as a startling number of questions posed are already some that I answered in the distributed texts—in short, surface-level.” She rose. “We may be inventing a new field of magic. New fields do not revolve around S-rank magic. They must be capable of casting spells from F-rank to S-rank. Read what was distributed. Catch up to where I stand, theoretically. Only then can we press past all of this, getting into the meat of the matter.”

The people that sought some sort of humiliation walked away humbled, though none could protest. She had indulged them as equals, but in so doing, proved she deserved her title as their superior. Rowe, though, walked past all of them and greeted Anneliese.

“Well done,” he told her quietly. “It’s about what’s expected of my apprentice.”

She shook her head. “Most of the questions were about illusion magic. Considering it’s new to our people, can you really claim any credit?” She smiled, and Rowe himself stood humbled. “Still, thank you for forcing that opportunity. Now, I believe you should catch up to me as well.”

With no retort, Rowe managed a few awkward words then shambled away, joining the rest in having been artfully cowed by the Queen of Vasquer. When everyone had begun poring over the notes, she sent out word to Elenore through their mental link.

“Thank you for speaking to Argrave, despite your tension. His wiki spared me in a few tight moments. I think the results will be wonderful in the team. As a matter of fact, we may be far ahead of schedule.”

“You’re welcome,” Elenore replied simply. “I hope it goes well.”

In unfair games, Anneliese found it felt rather good to cheat a little. She wouldn’t make a habit of it, but she saw why Argrave found it so addicting.

“Anneliese,” someone said, and she turned her head in response. There, Artur floated. “I wished to consult you further about the matter we discussed yesterday.”

She nodded, judging his emotions. He seemed ambivalent. “Certainly. Seek me out at the end of the day,” she told him.

“I will.”

#####

“I can confirm that the unusual seismic activity is directly related to mass movement of Gilderwatchers,” Raven told Argrave as they walked together through a particularly gloomy volcanic cavern. Lights from spells billowed around them as they walked, illuminating their path. “And I can confirm they converge on a point of unusually potent power. Furthermore, I did some preliminary investigation on the affected feathered serpents.”

Argrave was intensely focused on the cavern ahead, but he did listen intently. “What kind of preliminary investigations?”

“I compared them to the sample that I had collected from Vasquer. The comparisons were rough, and I took no samples, as I did not wish for the same sort of mental energy that assaulted you to come for me.”

Argrave looked at him. “You don’t have their blood. You’d be safe.”

“I do,” he disagreed. “I consumed countless things in my time as the Smiling Raven. Gilderwatchers were not exempt from my wrath. If I wished it, I might’ve communicated with Vasquer. How else do you think I recognized your heritage when no others did? Mine is a different relation than yours, but it is present.”

Argrave scoffed in shock, then stopped to survey a branching path. “Alright. And what was the result, then?”

“We can safely assume that the words Lindon contacted you with after Vasquer’s death were genuine. I felt the same energy I had extracted from the sample coming from the Gilderwatchers. And the point of power upon which they converge, in the continent of Anorexhai… somehow, it is subtly similar to the Fruit of Being.”

“Where is Anorexhai?” Argrave asked.

“That would be the place I wiped out, millennia ago,” Raven said. “A few gods occupy it, lording over the coastal mortal populations. Nothing worth mentioning.”

“I see.” Argrave digested that information, but looked to Raven out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have anything else to say?”

“I reported everything.”

“No comments about the lottery?” Argrave pressed.

“Now that I heard your rationale, I believe it somewhat ingenious,” Raven said ponderously. “None could guess one as vacuous as Durran might have such potential lurking within. Garm will prove invaluable. I hope you will lend him to me, as I have many dead people I hope he might visit. And the short one… I cannot guess how he might be of use.”

Now that Argrave had heard some praise from Raven, he knew something was wrong about the way he’d handled the situation. There were cracks in the foundation. Argrave hated the feeling intensely. He would need to have a long think about what might be done to mend the fractures. Hopefully, something stronger would be born as a result.

Still, the situation demanded little time to rest and think about what had been done. The present demanded action, not the future.

“Erlebnis’ information is millennia-old, but if everything that he said holds true…” Argrave pressed onward over a steep incline in the volcanic cavern. “We’re nearly there.”

Things were hot and damp down here, and the black rock had shards of obsidian embedded at random intervals that made the light dance. Sudden glances of light often caught his eyes, making Argrave glance about wildly seeking enemies that didn’t exist. At times like this, Orion’s presence eased Argrave considerably. Even Raven wasn’t a suitable replacement.

The pathway steeped until it was a sheer wall. The volcanic rock had many pores, and Argrave climbed up with great ease. At the top, the cavern opened up, and the light pooled upon it. What was ahead rather reminded Argrave of the obsidian pathway one needed to take to discover the Alchemist’s lair. They shared their material—so-called volcanic glass, black and brilliant. It looked so smooth as to be polished.

“Yeah…” Argrave kneeled down, peering ahead. The light from their spells strangely didn’t carry very far into the pathway of obsidian. “Just as the wiki describes. This is one of the potential early entrances to the Shadowlands, for sure.”

Raven walked ahead, stopping just short of the volcanic glass. “Do you know why I employ obsidian so often? At my home, for my staff…”

Argrave might’ve just read Erlebnis’ wiki for the answer, but he answered, “Some quirk, I imagine. Or maybe you just like it.”

“Obsidian is the single best receptor for earth magic,” Raven explained. “Nothing else moves so fluidly, so smoothly. Nothing else can respond to the most whimsical of whims without falling apart beneath the burden of the magic inscribed.”

“That’s good, right?” Argrave looked back at Raven. “We can just walk through all of this.”

“If you control the obsidian, perhaps.” Raven knelt. “If we don’t, we may be in for quite the time.”

Argrave ground his teeth together somewhat anxiously. “We were just scouting. I think we take note of the location, and then get ready to return.”

“Does this fall outside the purview of scouting?” Raven questioned.

#####

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea of consuming the Fruit of Being,” Artur told Anneliese.

Though Anneliese could see a great degree of hesitance in his voice, she saw something else—frustration. She couldn’t begin to guess the source of it.

“May I ask why?” Anneliese prompted him.

Artur stroked his well-trimmed chin. “I’m not sure I wish to shoulder the responsibility such a bestowal might entail,” he said.

Anneliese could tell he was lying, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. She thought about angles she might approach this from, thinking hard about how to pry the answer from him.

“Argrave and I both believe you’re well-suited for the responsibility,” she said, stroking his ego—he had quite the large one, as she knew.

“Well… thank you,” he smiled, eyes sparkling with the praise. “I have done a great deal for… but…” he cleared his throat, realizing he was getting carried away. “Nevertheless, I’m hesitant.”

Anneliese took a deep, considerate breath. “Is there any other reason? I am willing to listen to anything that might be on your mind.”

“Well…” Artur looked at her, then around the small room they both stayed within. “I’m not…”

“Nothing you say here will be held against you. You’re a vital part of the kingdom,” she told him. It was true, though she meant it to flatter.

“Then… if I can be frank…” Artur adjusted his position on his cloak as he sat atop it. “The very idea of being a chosen one appalls me.”

Anneliese tilted her head. “Could you help me understand that?”

“I was born to a common family in Vasquer. I was born with dwarfism. Both of these things, you’re abundantly aware of.” Artur looked at her. “Nothing that I obtained wasn’t achieved by my own hand. Everything I have, I clawed and scratched and fought to earn. I’m proud of that. The idea of simply being bestowed some fruit to enter the upper echelons of Vasquer…” The man shook his head. “You say it might do wonderful things. I don’t care if it makes me normal, even—it’s not earned. I’ve done nothing for it.”

Anneliese bit her lip, surprised at his conviction. She respected it, even if it was rooted in pride.

“Be that as it may, you’re the best candidate,” she told him bluntly. “Is there anything I might do to allay that concern?”

“I’m not sure.” Artur looked around. “If there is, nothing comes to mind. Might something else be done with the fruit?”