Chapter 355. Advice (Patreon)

After the assembly’s conclusion, Ian waited until Clara was back home, scoping out her activities through Euryphel’s Regret scenarios. Then, he summoned her with the transmission artifact. Knowing that she’d appear behind him–the artifact always manifested the projected person directly behind their quarry–Ian turned around.

Sure enough, Clara’s lifelike form stood before him. She jumped reflexively, her eyes snapping wide in surprise. She nearly fell over herself, probably from the disorientation.

“Hello, Clara,” Ian said, “we need to talk.”

“So, the communication can go the other way as well,” she murmured, her eyes fixating on the room. Suddenly, she seemed to remember her audience. She stiffened and bowed her head. “Ascendant Dunai,” she said first. “The Crowned Executor.” She stopped on the third figure, her brow furrowing in disbelief. After a moment of mental processing, she inclined her head to Maria as well. “The Eldemari.”

Maria chuckled. She was seated at the table, her back straight as a rod, not touching the back of the chair. The blue diadem was active overhead, giving her a lifelike appearance.

Ian cleared his throat. “Clara. I can’t read your thoughts with Remorse while you’re here like this. Please inform us about what happened during the deliberations.”

Ian had considered asking Eury to interrogate her in Regret scenarios, but decided the Crowned Prime had endured enough for one morning. Euryphel would never complain, which meant that Ian needed to be more conscientious about when to ask for the Crowned Prime’s help.

How does she seem to you? Maria asked mentally.

Mostly fine. The shock of working with us has faded significantly since we first approached her. She even took your presence in stride.

Ian felt Maria’s agreement through their bond. She’s used to eccentric peak practitioner behavior. We’re just one tier higher than the practitioners she’s used to. Still people. She’s learning to internalize that.

Clara gave Ian a probing look. “Where should I begin?”

“Just when the deliberations started–no need for anything earlier.

The trio of experts hung on to every word as Clara explained what she had seen, narrating how she’d spoken strongly in favor of accepting Achemiss’s terms. But she emphasized how she didn’t know why she acted that way.

“You don’t remember why you said what you said?” Ian probed.

“No–I only remember what the Remorse practitioners stitched together and shared with everyone. As I understand it, passing memories back and forth to a Regret practitioner is exhausting, tedious work.”

It was more than just exhausting. Ian knew how hard it was to ingest the memories of others. Even if the assembly members all freely let down their mental defenses, processing all those memories, remembering them accurately, passing them to a Regret practitioner, and then reading them back from the Regret practitioner’s mind in future scenarios and the real world… it was highly infeasible.

Maybe Cayeun Suncloud could pull it off, but mortals had no chance.

“That’s why they had three Remorse practitioners,” Euryphel interjected, looking at Ian. “Redundancy.”

Even though Ian understood why Clara didn’t have first-hand memories from the deliberations, he was frustrated by the lack of information. He’d wanted to hear how his oath had worked from Clara’s perspective.

Maybe it’s for the best that she doesn’t remember, he considered. How would she react to me compelling her through the necromantic oath?

Ian had only done what was necessary to ensure the desired outcome, but he didn’t find pleasure in commanding Clara’s behavior. More than anything, he felt annoyance that he had to control her so directly. Why had he needed to intervene in the first place? He wished she would have acted under her own authority to ensure the success of their plan.

She didn’t have a Regret practitioner to guide her, Maria mentally reminded him.

In her explanation, she rather deliberately pointed out that her saying anything at all was unexpected. Had she really planned to stay silent during such an important discussion?

We can’t know for certain, Maria replied, though Ian could sense her agreement. Clara wasn’t a politician. She was a scientist and a regular. In the spaces where she held real authority, she wielded it. The assembly chamber was no such place.

I’m not convinced she’s fully invested in our goals, even after telling her everything, Ian thought. We still need to use her now that she’ll be directly interfacing with Achemiss. But after…

She’s a liability, Maria finished, her mood somber.

“So,” Euryphel continued, his expression aloof, “how are you supposed to help ‘Ascendant Dunai’?”

“He is supposed to reach out to me,” she said, her words slow and uncertain. “He will contact me tomorrow to arrange the details. When we eventually meet through the same method of transmission as in the assembly chamber, I will provide the false Dunai information on the promised five rifts. These will be classified rifts, unknown to the public.”

“How does he trust that Sere won’t keep a record of them?”

Clara sighed. “When we made the original agreement, we had to give him repeated assurances about the nature of our system. All who handle the classified rifts sign life-death oaths that prevent them from ever speaking about them. Only within the specific offices where the rift managers work are the oaths suspended. And when a rift is removed from the classified rift database, all traces of its existence are wiped from the minds of the workers.”

Maria hummed her understanding. “But what about those at the highest levels of power? Don’t they have access to knowledge regarding the rifts?”

“Normally, yes–they are excluded from the mind wipes. As part of our agreement with Achemiss, however, everyone was forced to sign oaths to forget, and to ensure that anyone that they knew with compromising knowledge be forced to undergo the same oath.”

“How did he trust that you all actually did so? He’s not an End practitioner.”

Clara shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

Ian, Maria, and Euryphel shared a look. “You will be able to inform us about the rifts, correct?”

“As long as you can subvert the oath I’m sure to take, yes. Or if you don’t care that I die.” Clara chuckled humorlessly. “But you’d need to be careful–as soon as I know that you have learned of the rifts, I’ll die since I intentionally worked to divulge the information. Achemiss will then know the rifts are compromised and won’t use them, and you’ll have lost your insider.”

“We will subvert the oath,” Ian assured her.

Or rather, he’d send someone to break it. If they didn’t want the oath to kill Clara eventually, it would need to be destroyed. And to avoid notice, it would also need to be reconstructed.

It was a daunting task. And it would need to be done in person, as close to the meeting time with Achemiss as possible. They would need to destroy the oath right before Clara met him and reinstate it as soon as he left. She would still have her memory wiped, of course, but this arrangement would allow for Clara to show the locations of the rifts when she knew others not beholden to the oaths were listening.

Maria, Ian thought, can you handle this?

Her firm fingers squeezing his was the answer.

“Tell us about the classified subject,” Ian demanded. Ever since he had seen Achemiss request the so-called ‘classified subject’ in Euryphel’s memories of the assembly, a seed of dread had grown in his stomach.

“This is one of the subjects that I cannot speak about out loud, even when no people are present,” Clara said. “You’d need to subvert my oath.”

Ian frowned. “Can you say anything about why Achemiss might be interested in the classified subject?”

Clara just shook her head. “Just know that I will meet Achemiss in the compound where the classified subject is held. He wants proof that we actually have it.”

Ian exhaled slowly. He felt the necromantic oath from where it sat on his wrist, tethered to the bone bracelet. He could use the necromantic oath to control Clara, to compel her to speak–but that worked alongside existing oaths. He had never successfully disabled an existing End oath with necromancy.

That was why Maria was so key. She was their ultimate oath breaker.

“Never mind then,” Ian said, “we’ll find out later.”

—

Maria was surprised that Euryphel was so agreeable about the “send Maria into danger” plan.

It’s because it keeps Ian safe in Ichormai, by his side, she mused, looking between the former prince and her necromancer.

“Don’t look so surprised,” the Crowned Executor said, giving her an eye roll. “You’re immortal so long as your phylactery isn’t destroyed, right?” He looked to Ian, who still sat in the same chair as he had been half the day. Ian hadn’t even stood up to stretch after Clara’s dismissal.

Ian nodded.

“The only danger is discovery,” Euryphel continued. “You need to get into the Sere Consortium and we know for a fact that they screen for necromancy on the borders. Ian was able to bring you in as an artifact when visiting Clara, but such a plan becomes complicated when you’re going alone. Then, you’ll need to travel to where Clara is meeting Achemiss. She wasn’t able to tell us where that was, but she said that if we use the transmission artifact tomorrow morning, we should be able to listen in on a meeting where the location will be discussed. You should already be in Sere by then.”

“Do you have a plan to send me over the border?”

Euryphel grinned and turned to Ian. “I think it’s time for Maria to meet your mentor.”

Ian coughed lightly. “She already has. But I agree–it will be indispensable for Maria to learn how to hide herself from detection. Sneaking her past the border is more than feasible, but we can’t assume Sere will only hunt for necromancers there.”

“Also worth considering is that Sere is expecting the presence of a powerful necromancer. They’re going to be wary of his actions, even if he’s only sending an avatar in his stead.”

Ian knew Maria had a point. Sere knew that the real Ian Dunai could control armies of constructs. If Dunai supposedly didn’t like the rifts Sere offered, or he found issue with the classified subject, what would stop him from rampaging with an undead army?

Nothing–unless Sere put emergency defenses against necromancy in place.

Ian just hoped Soolemar’s wisdom would be enough to conceal his lich.

—

Before calling Soolemar, Maria and Euryphel clinked glasses of wine on a balcony within the palace. Maria’s face was obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, and she wasn’t overly worried about discovery. The balcony overlooked the grassy fields of the inner palace, populated predominately by members of the former SPU’s nobility.

She swirled it, the motion smooth and well-practiced. When she inhaled, though, it wasn’t the same. Drawing the glass to her lips, she took a sip, tasting nothing.

She stymied her disappointment.

“It’s been too long since we met in person,” Euryphel said quietly. “Years.”

“Too long since we talked at all,” Maria noted. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For one, recovering. Healing from Ari’s strike was slow in the beginning, but it’s been a lot faster recently.” The words lingered in the air. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Healing you?”

Euryphel inclined his head.

“I have no idea,” Maria answered, “but I would believe it. If Ascendant Ari used ascendant energy to strike you… it stands to reason that only another ascendant could fully heal the wounds.”

Euryphel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you not know?”

“We like our privacy,” Maria replied. “Emotions are more likely to slip through, but passing whole thoughts requires intention. Ian never told me that he was healing you.”

Silence descended.

Maria decided to bring up the one topic that Euryphel probably wanted to never discuss. “How are you feeling about Ian?”

His smile became bitter. “I’m proud of him. By becoming an ancient, he’s potentially achieved more than anyone who’s ever lived on this world. Sometimes it’s easier to not think about that when interacting with him.”

Maria gave him a dissatisfied look. “Is that all? Such a bland response from my favorite cousin.”

Euryphel snorted. “With all due respect, cousin, must I discuss my feelings with you, when you’re with him?”

Maria certainly wasn’t ignorant of that fact. “No other knows both of you as well as me. I ask because I care.”

Euryphel raised an eyebrow. “I have someone to talk to. A professional.”

“Who doesn’t know Ian.”

The former prince sighed and leaned back in his seat, his pale hair stark against the navy cushion. “What is there that needs saying?”

Maria crossed her leg. “Ian doesn’t experience relationships as I believe that we do.”

Euryphel’s gaze flickered to hers, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t think you can expect to change how he feels. But I don’t think that was ever your goal, was it? I know how unkind you can be to yourself. Rejection is but another misfortune to decorate your mantle.”

She sighed. “Apologies–that was antagonistic. I mean to give you advice.”

“Then give it.”

Maria took another tasteless sip of wine as she considered her words.

Around Euryphel, Ian’s entire demeanor shifted. He smiled more, laughed constantly. It was as though he were a teenager, one unburdened by a bad childhood. Euryphel was much the same way. The two just clicked. They meshed better than most–maybe all–couples that Maria had ever met.

She empathized with Euryphel’s desires and unfulfilled expectations. He wanted a typical romantic relationship. Ian simply couldn’t give that to him. Maria knew that Ian didn’t feel any spark of physical attraction.

She reached up to her diadem, disabling it. Her skin turned pallid, her eyes glowed, and her mind became a colder place.

“I’ve had time to think about love after dying,” she said, studying the Crowned Executor’s reaction. She’d never triggered the transformation in front of him, and the transition from living to dead was admittedly disconcerting.

But Euryphel revealed no outward reaction, maintaining perfect control.

“In the beginning, I feared that losing my emotions–for they were even weaker back then–prevented me from loving my son. As a lich, I simply didn’t feel the same way. After the change, my incessant worry faded to a general curiosity. It was as though my own son had been reduced to the same status as a good friend.

“But my situation forced me to realize that there’s more to relationships than the emotions our hormones stir within us. Love isn’t just a chemical. With or without this crown, I love Ian. You can love a person, appreciate them, want to spend your time with them, if you can. That’s how I feel.” Her lips pressed together. “It’s what I see in the two of you.”

“What you describe could easily be friendship,” Euryphel argued.

“It could.”

Euryphel swirled his wine, the red hue melding with the dark shadows of twilight. “I still haven’t heard any advice. Just statements, observations.”

Maria set down the cup. “Don’t try to put your relationship with Ian in a box. What you both have is unique.” She thought of the statue that Euryphel had commissioned of Ian in the outer palace’s gardens, a statue that specifically celebrated the concept of brotherhood. The word was inadequate.

“You’re his girlfriend–shouldn’t you be telling me to get lost?”

“Get lost.” She playfully kicked his leg. “Do you have advice for me?”

“Based partially on what you said, don’t alienate Zilverna because you’re afraid you can’t love him as a mother. Your interactions with him the other day were cold.”

“Easier said than done. For both of us.”

It was time she paid Zilverna a visit. But first, she had a necromancer to talk to.