93. Naturalist II (Patreon)

The garden was completely different from the small house. Whilst the house had a single story and wasn’t that big, the garden extended for tens of meters, maybe reaching a hundred. Tall dark blue shrubbery blocked this sight from the outside world.

A myriad of colors composed the landscape. Purple, blue, white; every color of the mana spectrum was present, but it didn’t end there. Some flowers had vibrant petals, red and yellow were the most common, but still traces of blacks, browns, and greens were present.

The sheer amount of color already left me breathless, and that was without even mentioning the flora itself.

There were ter’nar, of course. The weeping willow-like trees occupied much of the aerial landscape, but the undergrowth, beneath their canopies, still bloomed with life.

I couldn’t recognize most of the flowers, but some looked like lilies, other roses, and some others appeared like sunflowers even if they didn’t have their characteristic yellow core, but in the end, I wasn’t an expert in the field.

Ellari loved to overdecorate, and vines were already a staple of such vanity. This garden wasn’t an exception, but an exacerbation. Though, unlike the average monochrome and stale vines that lingered around Ferilyn (which still were of a deep blue), the ones in the garden had many shades and bloomed with flowers of equally diverse colors.

This refuge, hidden from the outside world, felt more mystical than my own magic.

My accelerated thoughts came to an end.

Fynn and I walked to the center of the garden where an old man waiting sat on a chair in front of a round and white garden table. The table had a stained-glass top of a plethora of colors. Below the table, an artificial rainbow spawned from the myriad of glass.

“Come in closer.” The man, who had his back towards us, spoke. His voice was dry and coarse, yet it felt incredibly powerful. More than following his suggestion, we obeyed. “Sit.” He added when we got closer to the table.

There were four white chairs around the table, so there was more than enough place. Fynn sat on the exact opposite side from the man, whilst I sat on his left.

My surprises didn’t end there, as when I had a clear line of sight of the man, Au’ter I supposed, my eyes shot wide open.

Au’ter was old. Really old.

I cannot stress enough when I said he was old. Wrinkly skin and sickly white hair without traces of platinum. Not ellari white, but true white hair from age. I had never seen something like it.

Ellari lived for a long time, and we didn’t truly age, we just dropped dead when our time came, or so I had been told. You could distinguish adults from the elderly, but the traces of age were small and few. Maybe accentuated bags under the eyes, a wrinkle here and there, ears that were a bit floppy instead of straight.

But this man, Au’ter, he was beyond all of that. He looked even older than Amyr. And the draconid emperor already looked decrepit. How old was he?

“Four-hundred and fifty-two,” Au’ter said with a wrinkly smile.

Was he reading my mind? Yet before I could ask, he continued.

“No.” He, very slowly, swayed his head. “But I know that look. Every visitor has it. I know what you were thinking and going to ask. This isn’t my first time, not even close.” Then he chuckled, his coarse voice making it seem more like a cough.

It was impossible to not be intimidated by his age. The lifespan of the ellari were four centuries, keyword: lifespan. I wasn’t talking about the life expectancy, but the lifespan. People got it mixed it together here on Ferilyn because for ellari they were basically the same. But the lifespan dictated that ellari wouldn’t live more than four hundred years, yet Au’ter overshot that mark by half a century.

“How?” The words naturally left my mouth.

“Just a few tricks of an old naturalist. Nothing easily replicable, I fear. Faunamancy can offer significant upgrades to one’s body. Not as much as Body affinity, but it allowed me to go far beyond the ellari lifespan. In a way, it would be wrong to call me ellari, for I’m not one any longer.” The naturalist smiled beyond the ominous words he had told. “Though I guess this prowess on my field is to be expected. I was not the High Arcanist for two centuries for nothing.”

My head turned to look at Fynn with a deadly gaze, my eyes screaming “Why didn’t you tell me this is the previous High Arcanist?” and the man just shrugged with amusement ridden on his visage.

I did some quick math in my head. The current High Arcanist has been in power for around a century and a half, Au’ter is four-hundred and fifty-two, and he had been in power for two centuries... meaning he was a century old when he first became the High Arcanist. I turned back to face Au’ter, the old man was unbothered by our wordless and short exchange.

“Any problems?” The old man said with a smile. It was impossible not to see four centuries of age in his visage. The wearing of his aspect confirmed his age.

“No, none at all,” I responded with the best neutral tone I could muster. “It’s just a bit hard to cope with such big periods of time.”

“Oh, I can understand you.” Au’ter placed a wrinkly hand on top of the table. “I have been the most longevous High Arcanist, both in power and age. Elisandre Stargazer was still alive when I was born, and I eventually took her mantle as the High Arcanist when she, unfortunately, passed away of old age.”

Elisandre Stargazer? That name sounded awfully familiar... It took True Recall to find the correct memory, but the first time I heard that name was on my first day at the Academy of Applied Magical Arts of Ferilyn back in Sin’fal, nine years ago. She had been the founder of the Academy.

“Have I finally satiated your curiosity, youngling?” This was the first time I actually felt like a child even if already had more than thirty years on my name.

Four-hundred and fifty-two years...

“Yes.” I nodded.

I had more questions, but I didn’t doubt they would resolve on their own. Mainly, why had Fynn brought us to meet the previous High Arcanist?

“Naturalist Au’ter,” Fynn finally talked, his voice reverberating powerfully as expected for the Command Sergeant Major of the military, “we have come here to discuss affairs that may affect the state of Ferilyn.”

“I had expected as much.” The merry blue visage of Au’ter became less lifeful as seriousness took over. “What would want the Ceaseless Storm from a frail old man like me?”

“Frail?” Fynn’s brows raised. “That’s a curious way to describe one of the most powerful eleven-star mages in Ferilyn.”

Sorrow grew on the naturalist’s face. “I may be of the eleven-star and a High Arcanist on a time long past, but powerful I’m not. Wise? Perhaps. But power is something I do not possess, soldier.” He spat the last word with repulsion.

“Excuse my words then. It wasn’t my intention to offend you.”

“It never is, is it?” Au’ter said. “Yet people always end up insulting each other.”

Both eleven-star mages were relaxed, their bodies lingering on the garden chairs, but the tension in the air was palpable. If I wasn’t myself of the eleventh star and virtually immortal, I would have already run away.

“Drop the courtesy.” The naturalist continued. “I have gotten the gist of the message you sent me a few days ago. You aren’t seeking my power, but my knowledge.”

Albeyr nodded. “We have our reasons to think that the High Arcanist, En’yen Yagul, has become a menace to the status quo of the Ferilyn Meritocracy. I’m inclined to believe that you possess knowledge that could help us in our... operation.”

Au’ter’s expression became dead still, I could not even read his soul. The ancient man had excellent control of his emotions in all three planes. Was that control obtained from age or his natural immunity as an eleven-star mage? Unbeknownst to my inquiries, the naturalist raised his hand.

“Alain?” Au’ter asked the maid who had appeared from the house’s backdoor.

“Yes, Au’ter?” Alain responded as she carefully placed three cups of tea on the glass table on top of intricate porcelain cup holders.

“Take the rest of the day off.” He answered powerfully, a tone not expected from someone that should be dead long ago.

“Yes, Au’ter.” The maid bowed cordially without disputing the elder’s statement. She put the tray she was carrying on her armpit, bowed again, and disappeared inside the colorful house.

With all the time in the world, Au’ter picked up the steaming cup of tea and took shallow sips. Only after he had taken three and left the cup on the plate, he talked back.

“Alright, gentlemen.” The hardened visage showed a wisdom like none other I had seen before. “Let’s get down to business.”