Chapter 632: Alive Yourself (Patreon)

Anneliese had gone to talk to Elenore, and after, she intended rejoin the research team—Argrave could feel her presence inside the parliamentary hall in his sister’s office. Raven hadn’t been lying in saying that they’d become a closed loop, sharing everything. Argrave had been lying in bed trying to think of what was to be done next to prepare when Durran came to him, spouting a rather outlandish idea.

“It was Garm’s idea, not mine,” Durran clarified as he stood in front of Argrave.

“Well… what… I mean, how… what’s the limit?” Argrave pressed, incredibly eager now that he’d heard the idea. He rose up off his bed. “He’s really willing to do that? If there were anything to get second thoughts about, this sounds like it. We’re going to have an army of the strongest people in history at our disposal—that’s what you’re telling me?”

Durran held out his hand as if to calm Argrave. “Just judging based on what Llewellen cost him, he suspects the upper limit for this matter is about thirty people. Still… he claims he’ll be able to remake them perfectly, A-rank ascension and all.”

Argrave felt like he was getting dizzy with greed after hearing that. “I’m almost tempted to ask if he’s exaggerating.”

“Check him with Anneliese, I suppose. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Durran shrugged. “There are two limits to it, though, insofar as resurrection goes. He needs either the location they died, or the location where their body is. Buried in the ground, mummified, cut into a thousand pieces—so long as the body ended up somewhere, he can catch their impression. He said it’d be best if their ashes were cremated and scattered, because that would extend the ‘net,’ so to speak.”

Argrave tapped the table. Though he had admittedly first thought of Castro, the man had died in Sandelabara. That place was buried beneath magma, now. With the limitation, he couldn’t be retrieved. But even with that limitation…

“I think I should help him pick the right people,” Argrave proposed.

Durran’s face scrunched up and he crossed his arms. “He was pretty adamant about doing this on his own after we get the body parts.”

“Hell, Durran.” Argrave paced around his bedroom. “We could bring back just about anyone. I could scan through the wiki for days picking out the right people.”

“For my sake, I hope you be careful—he’s very attached to doing this, and if you try and usurp his role, I’m not certain he wouldn’t kill himself just to get back inside my head, torment me.”

Argrave briefly weighed if it was worth pissing off Durran to exert control over the project, but dismissed the idea—he didn’t care to make things tenser than they already were. Orion still hadn’t even spoken to him, and Elenore kept an unpleasant distance between them.

“He’ll at least speak to me,” Argrave hoped.

“I’m sure he will.” Durran nodded. “Considering how enthusiastic you’re being, I assume you don’t have any objections about this?”

“None at all. Rather, I’d have an objection if you didn’t go, now that I know Garm is fully willing.” Argrave rubbed his hands together. “Don’t worry—I managed to change Garm’s mind once before. I think I know how to get through to him.”

“I don’t think I sounded worried,” Durran said disaffectedly. “I’ll look forward to it. I’m sure the illustrious Argrave, leader of the Blackgard Union, king of Vasquer, ruler of all the Great Chu, will succeed where I failed. He can overcome any challenge, after all.”

#####

“So, not only do you want me to kill myself, but you want me to do so on your terms? Good gods, Argrave. How selfish can you be?”

Argrave tried several different approaches to influence Garm into choosing the people that Argrave could find in the wiki bestowed to him by Erlebnis. Every response was more or less an iteration of the above. He was adamantly opposed to allowing anyone other than himself have the final say in who was brought back. Argrave, in a small bout of paranoia, thought that Garm might be bringing back some people that might aid him in doing something nefarious—gathering mischief-makers for a coup, perhaps.

To kill his paranoia, he brought Garm before Anneliese, disrupting the research team. She confirmed Garm’s honesty that his sole intention was merely to prepare a force that was willing and able to enter into the Shadowlands. All that Argrave ended up looking was foolish—and Durran, who had warned Argrave, mocked him about that fact.

“I think there’s only one thing you should worry about,” Garm said as he stood besides Durran, both of them ready to depart. “Yourself. The people that I’m bringing back aren’t small players. They’re people that shaped the world, in one way or another. Even you, with all your fancy doo-dads, can’t necessarily tame them so easily. They’re born leaders who reached the top of their fields. Very few of the people I’ve chosen thus far actually died in battle—instead, they often died in bed, having never fallen.”

“I get the picture.” Argrave crossed his arms, realizing Garm had a point. These people would have some difficulty accepting him as their leader.

“And as you’ve proven, you’re very persuasive,” Durran continued to joke.

As Argrave rolled his eyes, a voice cut into their conversation.

“Bring back my grandfather.”

Argrave, Durran, and Garm all whipped their heads to the right. Onychinusa sat on the grass inconspicuously.

“I want to talk to him,” she explained further. “I want him to see me. You have to give that to me.”

Garm looked at Argrave. “Who the hell is she?”

“Last of the imperial family of the ancient elven empire Llewellen was a part of,” Argrave explained quickly. “Hi, Onychinusa. Hope you’re well,” he greeted cordially—she barely acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. He pointed at Garm. “She’s right. Far as I know, that man did die in bed.”

“Ah. Emperor Balzat.” Garm nodded, then walked closer to Onychinusa and squatted. “Listen, woman. I don’t take requests. If he’s worth bringing back, I’ll bring him back. If he’s not, I won’t. Simple as.” Garm tapped his chest. “Every time I bring someone back, I spend a little more of my life. It’s my artistry—my final work. I don’t care who your grandfather was. All I care about is the product.”

Argrave was certain that Onychinusa was going to burst—she wasn’t known for her patience. But to his surprise, she tore up a clump of the nearby grass, and then vanished into magic. Argrave exhaled in relief.

“Just give it some thought,” he insisted. “And good luck. As for you, Durran… I hope you find some answers about your ability. I had Lindon to help me discover mine—you, though… think about who you really are. Think about what you’re capable of, and what drives you. Think about whether you’re a Scorpio, a Gemini, or just an asshole. It’s one of the three, I’m certain.”

Durran smiled. “I only recognize the last word, so it must be that one. See you in a day or ten, Argrave.”

#####

Several days passed without much word from either Garm or Durran. Elenore was keeping in touch with her husband, but apparently Garm was insisting that he not disclose too much information. It was a rather disconcerting turn of events given how much stock Argrave had in Garm’s idea. Ordinarily he might’ve called upon Elenore to extract a little information out, but things remained somewhat frigid between them despite Argrave’s attempts to show his warmth.

Anneliese’s work in the research team, meanwhile, continued to flourish. Their efforts led to several advancements which, while not the target, were immeasurably useful. Countless defenses against illusion magic developed for those without magic—and the Hall of Enchantment eagerly adapted them to sell nationwide for profit. Besides that, the research team even submitted a formal request to Argrave to head to the Burnt Desert to speak to one of the southron elves. They hoped to examine and experiment with their strange illusion magic that defied conventions.

Given what Erlebnis had compiled on the subject, Argrave could’ve taught them all himself—still, he did manage to talk Florimund, leader of the last of the southron elves, into paying a visit. Last time they’d spoken, Argrave had claimed that the elf would hear his name again someday. The witty veteran took great pleasure in reminding Argrave of that fact, boisterously telling tales about far Argrave had come, and how skinny he used to look, before joining him in Blackgard. Argrave was pleased to see their community continuing to flourish under Durran’s ‘government,’ which only consisted of several completely autonomous communities protected by his wyvern riders and Argrave’s own forces.

But once Llewellen had finally caught up to the rest of them, and began to take part in the research team… everything was flipped on its head. He ruthlessly closed off other routes that people had been exploring by showing them how they ended. His knowledge was so sweeping, and his points so robust, that very few could genuinely challenge them. Anneliese had a deep respect for the man who’d taught her the A-rank ascension she’d used, so she lent him considerable authority to conduct the team.

He steered them away from study of illusion magic toward druidic magic. Llewellen had barely stepped a toe onto the field when he’d departed, but after only a few days, commanded an impressive mastery over the field that even most Veidimen couldn’t contest. Only Rowe was his superior; even Argrave wasn’t privy to how Rowe had tamed a dragon, despite having Erlebnis’ wiki at his disposal. Once the team began to examine the control of animals, they hit something of a snag—barring the Veidimen, few present knew and understood druidic magic. It was overcome quickly enough.

Complex philosophical debates arose as they all delved deeper—how were elves and men actually different from animals? What lent druidic magic control over animals, while exempting humans? Indeed, a rather dark question took hold. Could men and women be controlled just as the animals were? It was a very grim road to tread, and many questioned if such research should even be allowed.

Anneliese reminded them it was this very prospect that threatened Vasquer, and as such, it was necessary to proceed.

With Llewellen as their shepherd, on the eighth day, people began earnestly experimenting on how to seize and control the minds of mortals, only so that they might find out how to defend against such a thing. While the notion chilled Argrave, his attention was diverted to something else.

Garm and Durran had returned. And they had brought a rather large retinue.