Chapter 353. The Assembly Commences (Patreon)

“It’s starting in a minute,” Euryphel said. He reclined in one of the chairs situated around the table, his legs perched on an adjacent seat.

Ian stretched an arm across his chest and curved his neck. “Should’ve brought popcorn.”

Euryphel snorted and gestured to a lovely spread of finger sandwiches laid out on the table. “Really, Ian?”

He grinned. “Fine, I take it back. Thank you, August Crowned Executor, for bringing these from the kitchen.”

Eury rolled his eyes. “We don’t know how long this assembly is going to last. Might be fast; might drag on. Regardless, we’re not leaving this room until it ends. And while I know that you”–he pointed to Maria–“don’t need to eat, us lesser lifeforms operate better with sustenance.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “You think Ian needs to eat?”

Eury froze, then blinked. “Excuse me?”

Ian shot Maria a disparaging look, then turned to Eury and shrugged. “Decemancy can make up for a lot.”

The former prince looked scandalized. “You still need to eat, though, don’t you? A living body needs sustenance.”

“I do,” Ian said, a smirk playing on his lips, “but unlike weak mortals forced to feed every few hours, I don’t need to eat that often.” He bent forward and grabbed one of the sandwiches, bringing it up to his mouth. “That doesn’t mean I won’t eat if it’s convenient.”

Eury’s mouth popped open. “You still need to drink, at least.” He held up a mug of coffee in one hand; the transmission artifact was in the other. Ian could sense the strain in the man’s muscles as he did so. They were still weak and damaged, even if Euryphel’s skin had mostly recovered, allowing him to hold objects without debilitating pain.

Don’t say anything, Ian chided Maria mentally.

Fine, I won’t mention that you developed a way to recycle water for maximum training efficiency.

It wasn’t like I had any choice, Ian thought. Ancient Ash considered eating and drinking a tiresome, time-wasting practice.

Ian held up his own cup of coffee. “You know, I think this is the first coffee I’ve had in years. Better be good.” He took a sip and nodded. “Not bad.”

Euryphel smiled. “Though it’s not like you need the caffeine.” Suddenly, his body stiffened. “Achemiss is coming. He’s going to show up exactly on time.”

Ian and Maria shared a look. Euryphel was using the transmission artifact in Regret scenarios to spy on the assembly. His projected self was always noticed immediately, ruining attempts at spying. However, he could run multiple short scenarios, staggering them such that he could catch every second of the assembly as a projection. Ian could then try to access those memories with Remorse, and he could share them with Maria. The process was painstaking, but it worked.

Ian disdained how weak his Remorse was. It was so difficult for him to read complicated memories, requiring his full focus. Without Beginning, he didn’t even think he’d be able to pull it off, even with ascendant energy.

But at least for the moment, his capability was enough.

So far, all Ian had seen from Euryphel were a few seconds of the assembly room filling up, Clara streaming into her assigned seat along with a tide of other important people. Their names were all projected above each of their heads. It was a convenient, albeit odd quirk of the Sere Consortium, but Ian supposed it made sense. The people attending the assembly were on rotation, serving short terms. Having nametags with their roles, affiliations, and affinities made keeping track of everyone much easier.

It also, unfortunately, made a projection like Eury stand out even more.

From Eury’s stilted memories, there weren’t many regulars in the room. Only a handful, and all with high mental acuity like Clara. Ian noticed that they sat separate from each other. It was likely an intentional arrangement to integrate them into the greater assembly, rather than sequestering them in their own section.

People didn’t ignore Clara–she was greeted left and right, appreciated for her role in the Infinity Loop project–but Ian could discern a stiffness in her smile. Having grown up in a family filled with practitioners­–at least until his mother’s excommunication–Ian remembered well the subtle air of alienation.

Those memories of entering the assembly were from minutes earlier. Now that the time of Achemiss’s arrival was upon them, Ian prepared himself to plumb new memories from Euryphel’s mind.

Ian could sense the memories Euryphel tried to share. They swam at the forefront of the Crowned Executor’s mind, unprotected by mental defenses. Ian latched on and internalized them, shutting his eyes as he processed the many disorienting skips from Euryphel constantly running scenarios. He was seeing the same scenes multiple times since the memories overlapped with one another. It took Euryphel a minute of scenarios to see barely twenty seconds.

Ian called his ascendant energy to his mind, quickening both Beginning and Remorse to better process the memories.

Clara’s seat was in the front–though at the far, right end–of a long, curved dais. Easily accessible to answer questions, but largely out of sight.

She plastered a polite, inoffensive smile on her face as silence washed over the room.

Everyone was waiting for the ascendant’s arrival.

They didn’t wait long. Exactly when Achemiss said he’d call, down to the second, he did.

The assembly’s gaze fixed on a live transmission of Achemiss’s face. They all seemed to know that it was going to happen if their absolute silence around fifteen seconds before his appearance was anything to go by. A Sere Regret practitioner had probably sent out a warning. After all, if any of them pissed the ascendant off for any reason–even if they didn’t think the newly-ascended Ian Dunai was as much of a threat as older, more experienced ascendants–the outcome wouldn’t be favorable.

Ian considered the guise of the imposter. Achemiss had no qualms sheathing himself in lifelike puppets to experience the world, and apparently was skilled in shaping his golems to take on certain forms. While Ian could appreciate Achemiss’s skill on a technical level, seeing his appearance perfectly recreated as an “Ian golem” was unsettling.

“I appreciate everyone gathering here today,” Achemiss said, addressing the assembly.

Wearing the skin of Ian Dunai, he acted confident but not rude. Reasonable. It reminded Ian of Achemiss’s seemingly supplicant demeanor at the beginning of their encounter in Eternity.

I wonder what he’d think if he knew we were watching, Maria thought.

In response to Achemiss’s greeting, the members of the assembly seated at the dais all offered an obsequious welcome and introduction. Due to her seat’s location, Clara was last to speak.

This was happening in a Regret scenario, in the future, but Ian still felt for the necromantic oath, rubbing his fingers over the bone bracelet. The oath would do more than just compel Clara to stay silent about what she knew. Ian was unwilling to hinge the success of their plan on Clara’s ability to feign ignorance. What the oath did, in that moment, was strike the memories regarding Achemiss from Clara’s mind. They weren’t gone, but almost blurred, muted, like old, unimportant recollections.

After Clara introduced herself, Achemiss stated his intentions.

Achemiss’s eyes scanned the room. “It has not been long since I last spoke to this body. First, I want to express my appreciation for your trust. The Infinity Loop technology has unquestionable power”–he gestured to himself–“but the dangers of using it are real.”

The assembly was enraptured.

“Give me a status update on your progress.”

The head of the dais, a Beginning and Moon dual practitioner, spoke from memory, likely parroting off notes that Clara had delivered. They all knew Achemiss didn’t care about minute details–the ascendant wanted to understand the bigger picture.

“I would prefer to hear the head of research talk herself,” Achemiss interrupted, pointing at Clara.

All eyes were suddenly on the regular. She smiled, then stood, her legs slightly trembling. Only because Euryphel was so close did he notice it. The power of a wind elementalist projected her voice. “We have not yet been successful finding a powerful enough necromancer to accelerate our research,” she explained. “We’re expanding our search radius into adjacent nations, like the Selejo Imperial Federation, but those efforts have been met with external resistance.”

Achemiss narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t found anyone? Not even necromancers who evaded recruitment?”

Ian suddenly felt a tingling in the necromantic oath. It must be from when Clara introduced herself. The temporal dissonance between what Ian experienced and what was actually happening was disconcerting.

We found at least two potential suspects, but were unable to successfully engage them and they slipped away. Necromancers are illegal everywhere on this world; any that would be powerful enough to help us must be stealthy. Hiding their power is a necessity for survival. As a Death practitioner yourself, I’m sure you understand the situation.”

Achemiss’s gaze was inscrutable as he considered her words. “Very well.” He returned his gaze to the center of the dais. “It appears that with your efforts stalled, more direct assistance may be required. I’ve returned to this world for two reasons. The first, of course, is to solve the issue of soul corruption. The second is to conduct research within rifts. You’ve already provided me five rifts. For ten more, I will personally intervene in the search for a suitable necromancer. I have a feeling we will find greater success in the East.”

Ian knew what Achemiss was implying. He was going to go after Soolemar. His frosty anger at the idea was tempered by his excitement. Achemiss really was trying to acquire more rifts.

There was one glaring issue: giving away so many rifts would be terrible for Sere’s artificers who depended, in part, on materials sourced from rifts. However, Ian was certain the Sere assembly would agree to Achemiss’s terms­. They were likely betting that “Ian Dunai” wouldn’t stay on their world for long, which was a fair assumption. Whatever rifts they handed over, they’d get back once he leaved.

The speaker of the assembly didn’t hesitate in responding, “We are interested in this trade, contingent on you delivering at least one necromancer who can help our research.”

Achemiss smiled without humor. “I never said I would find you a necromancer, just that I would intervene to assist. I have too many enemies. Should I make an appearance, I’ll be putting myself–and the success of our efforts­–in jeopardy.”

“The Sere Consortium covers a large geographic territory but lacks the resources and influence to have private ownership of so many rifts. The best we can do is five more.”

“Five more rifts and access to the classified subject,” Achemiss retorted.

“Classified subject?” Ian murmured, shooting Euryphel and Maria a look.

The speaker of the assembly worked his jaw. “I don’t think we can promise that.”

“You said that the last time,” Achemiss said, “and I didn’t push the issue. But I haven’t been idle since our last meeting. The classified subject is necessary to further my research.”

Ian sympathized with the speaker of the assembly. Achemiss was putting them in an awkward position, claiming that he was helping by conducting his research and making promises of potential future help, all without proof. He could get away with it because he was an ascendant.

But what was the classified subject to make the speaker so reluctant to agree?

“You don’t want to force my hand on this,” Achemiss said softly. “You can trust that I’m doing this for the greater good.”

Ian’s gut roiled. Achemiss’s greater good, perhaps.

“Please give us a few seconds to discuss,” the speaker said.

What ensued was a period of complete silence.

“They’re conferring in Regret scenarios,” Euryphel observed, tapping his lip. “That suggests a higher degree of cooperation and trust than I expected from the Consortium, given the more fragmented nature of government.”

The seconds ticked on. Around fifteen seconds later, the speaker broke the silence.

“Ascendant Dunai, we cannot agree to your terms.”

Ian’s heart nearly skipped a beat. No. Sere had to agree, no matter what. It was the Darkseers’ best opportunity to pin Achemiss down. Euryphel wore a bitter expression, his eyes tight.

This happened a scenario, and without any way to influence the people within it, the outcome will always be the same, Maria thought, grabbing for Ian’s hand underneath the table. Ian understood the implication.

“Eury,” Ian said, his eyes narrowing in concentration, “run the scenario again.”