Chapter 114- The Empire’s Troubles (Patreon)

“Can you explain to us what you two did in more detail? Also, why is she unconscious? Does that happen every time?” The Duke’s voice cut through the murmurs cropped up around them.

“The difference in our tiers is why she’s so tired. If her concentration was as high as mine, she could do that all day. I won’t explain every detail, but I will say that her skill roughly tripled the power of my technique while cutting the cost to thirty percent,” A round of gasps swept through the gathering before they began excitedly chattering amongst themselves.

Seeing the annoyance painted on Jiran’s face, the Duke cut his hand through the air, stirring up a gentle breeze, “That is enough for now, let us return to dinner while the ambassador recovers. May we thrive,” He slowly floated upwards before zipping back toward his estate.

Several of the other nobles followed while a few stayed behind, led by a man with a greedy glint in his eyes. He rubbed his hands together as he approached Jiran with a sleazy smile. His smile lasted right up until he walked face-first into a wall of aura. The man bounced backward in complete shock only for Olive to rush to his side with a diplomatic smile. A moment later, the noble bowed obsequiously to her while backing away, then joined the rest of the nobility in the sky as they chased after the Duke.

Olive stepped through Jiran’s aura without resistance. She wrung her hands, her brows drawn down in anxiety. "Are you purposefully trying to damage Mayalyn’s position? Why can you not entreat with them as you do me? I would be willing to engage with them on your behalf, if you prefer. Anything but this, my nerves cannot take it any longer!”

“Really? That’s perfect! Thanks, Olive. You’re the best.” Jiran’s voice held not an ounce of sarcasm as he gladly dumped the responsibility of dealing with the nobles onto her shoulders.

If things get out of hand I’ll step in, but I have way too many things to deal with already.

Her eyes narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips as realization dawned, “You’ve been hoping for this from the start, haven’t you? Mother warned me of a man’s propensity for strategic incompetence. Don’t think I don’t see right through you! Well, if you think I’ll allow myself to be used without exacting a hefty payment in flesh, prepare to be sorely disappointed!”

Niya stepped in, her voice quivering with mirth, “You want his flesh, and you’re going to disappoint him? That’s … very upfront of you,” Her lips pursed from the effort holding back her giggles.

Cameron had no such qualms as he broke out in an uproarious guffaw.

“Dear Mother above, it’s called a colloquialism! Thank the Voice that at least Mayalyn has some sense of decorum. Eek!” Olive squeaked when Jiran’s aura unceremoniously scooped her into the air along with Mayalyn and himself.

Cameron happily jumped on board the Jiran Air Express. Niya flew close and talked in a low voice. “You’ve run your errand, will you come take a look at my friend now?” Cameron and Olive’s ears perked up but they remained silent.

“I could, but if we leave before cleaning up the rest of the Graymin, a lot of people could die. The city might fall. How many citizens are depending on Mortan to stop the Graymin from spreading out across the empire? I have enough mana to ask Daughter about your friend. If she needs immediate help, we’ll go to her now. Otherwise, I’d like to stay until this Graymin army is dealt with.”

Niya held a deep breath with a scowl before relenting with a sigh. “Okay, I … yeah, you’re right. I’m being unreasonable by asking you to abandon so many to help a single person. It’s just that she’s been waiting for so long. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

“Well, let’s find out. What’s her name?”

“Shara of Lordstone.”

Jiran opened his mana to Revelation, his question already formed before Daughter’s face appeared before him.

“She lives and is stable. I have no way of knowing how long she has left,” Daughter vanished after her quick reply, bottoming out Jiran’s mana which he replaced with the tier six density churning in his stomach. The few bites only brought him back to forty percent, but with the huge buffet waiting for him at the estate, he wasn’t worried about mana.

“She’s alive and stable,” Niya dropped a meter in the air before catching herself as relief slammed into her. Her face skewed with barely repressed emotion as she mumbled thanks before turning her face from them.

“Lordstone? Your scrying technique is impressive to reach the far end of the empire so easily and accurately.” Seeing Jiran’s blank reaction, Olive sighed, “You have no idea how long it normally takes, or the lengths others go through for an accurate reading, do you? Malaniea will be furious with me if she ever finds out. Oh, apologies, Malaniea is my sister, she has dedicated herself to the art of divination.” Not knowing what to say, Jiran shrugged as she continued. “Before we stray too far from the topic of Graymin and saving the city, I must inform you of the situation with the wards.”

“Now that sounds far more interesting than talking about nobles.”

“Then shush while I am speaking and I will tell you!” Jiran saw right through her act, his aura easily detecting the subtle lifting of her lips and the tightening of her abs from repressed laughter. “The formation and wards that protect the walls were put in place by Lostrifar herself when the town was promoted to a city one hundred years ago. To this day, there are only a handful of people in the empire who could damage them. Yet somehow, the Graymin are wearing down the inner layers of the formations while only having access to the repelling wards outside the city.”

“I take it that getting Lostrifar to come look isn't possible? How far away are the formations from the walls and the repelling wards?”

“Correct, we must solve this without her. The wards and formations are exactly two hundred meters apart.” Olive’s response caused Jiran to whistle.

“Is this why we’ve lost so many fortresses in the last few seasons?”

“Yes, exactly. For generations, Lostrifar’s wards have held the northern forts as we slowly chip away at their numbers. However, when stripped of the wards, we are quickly overrun as I am sure you can imagine.”

“If the formations were designed and built by a tenth tier legend like Lostrifar, I’m not sure how you expect me to be able to help. I don’t have nearly as many skills as she must have had when she put them together,” Jiran’s response had Olive shaking her head.

“Supposedly, all formations are made with forming. Manasight would be the only skill that may help. Though, according to Duke Reihnhardt, he cannot see anything wrong, no matter how he examines them.”

Jiran frowned while mentally running through the list of skills he knew about. Tier five gave access to the manabody. Tier six allowed one to teleport, and Tier seven unlocked manasight. After tier seven, he had no idea what skills came next. He had never heard of a single mention of them. “Seriously? There aren’t any skills after the seventh tier that might help?”

“Of course not, there are no skills after the seventh tier. Creating your aspect to ascend to the eighth tier is similar to a skill and is considered by some to be the final skill. At least for us humans,” Olive flickered her eyes toward Mayalyn’s sleeping form with a thoughtful frown.

“What’s an aspect?” Jiran’s eyes lit up as his heart hammered at the prospect of an entirely new type of magic.

“No! You will not deflect this conversation with questions we can cover at any time. Without the wards, the city will fall and the entire eastern flank of the empire with it.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take a look if you promise to tell me about aspects later.”

“Oh, certainly. I’ll add it in the middle of my lecture on how to treat the families with a long, bloody history of protecting the empire with a modicum of respect.” She turned a predatory smile on him, causing Cameron to chortle. Jiran gave him a solid thunk to the back of his head which only made the durable youth laugh harder. Their short flight came to an end as Jiran brought them down in front of the manor.

“Come, I’ll lead you to our room so she can rest.”

“Thanks,” When Niya and Cameron didn’t follow, his eyebrows rose as he shot them a questioning look.

“We’re going to get some more dinner. I’ll bring you a plate if you’re not planning to come back.” Niya offered.

“Oh, I’ll be back. No way you can fit enough on a single plate unless you want to make twenty trips.”

“Suit yourself, see you soon.”

It was another short flight up to a third-floor balcony and down a long hallway to Olive and Mayalyn’s room. As she approached an impressive set of double doors, she swung them wide and led them into a lavish sitting room. The space was stuffed with plush chairs and a couch large enough for three. Jiran was immediately put off by the abundant crimson motif designed to venerate First Father. Olive pushed through the room without stopping, opening another door that led to a baroque bedroom.

“You two aren't big on cleaning up after yourselves, are you? What the heck is all this stuff?”

“It is none of your concern, is what it is!” Olive blushed furiously while motioning toward the largest bed Jiran had ever seen. It took up a quarter of the room and was currently holding at least a dozen crumpled dresses, while many more were strewn haphazardly, forming a fluffy halo of fabric around the bed.

Jiran chuckled while depositing Mayalyn on a clear spot. Olive threw a blanket over her and turned to shoo him from the room with wildly waving arms. Taking the hint, he allowed himself to be ushered out and they walked together back toward the banquet waiting below.

“Are you blocking our voices?” When he nodded, she continued. “Why do you think a mere tier seven is a duke?”

Surprised by the question, Jiran took a second to consider.

That’s a good point. Based on what I learned from the ancient tablet, I would assume the emperors are tier eleven. A duke is basically a single rung below the ruler of a country, so why aren't the dukes tier ten?

“I have no idea,” Jiran gave up, hoping she would quickly explain since he wasn’t particularly interested in politics.

“It is because everyone else is too busy to do the job. Once you ascend beyond tier seven, even the smallest movement expends a tremendous amount of mana, at least from our current perspective. It is not at all in the empire’s best interest to have its most powerful defenders carrying out mundane administrative duties. Only after centuries of exemplary performance do the dukes and duchesses accrue enough merit to be allowed access to the limited tier seven beasts available in our lands.”

Oh, that makes sense. That also explains why someone of a much higher tier hasn’t come in and wiped out the Graymin armies yet. They are saving their mana for beasts that nobody else can kill. If they wasted all their mana on tier fours and fives, and then a tier ten comes in, we would all be screwed.

“I’m glad you are beginning to understand. This is why your knowledge is so vital to our prosperity. If our few highest tier ascenders could improve their mana efficiency by even five percent, it would save years of cultivating mana between expeditions.”

If higher-tier beasts are as rare as she’s implying, then that would explain why it takes them so long to regenerate their mana. How long would it take me if I couldn’t drain the Graymin or a densoon cloud while only having lower-tier beasts to eat? A really long time, and I’m only tier four. Damn, the competition for food must be pretty cutthroat at the top of the imperial ladder.

Seeing him fall into deep thought, Olive gave him a moment before launching into her next point. “Back to the dukes. They are the truest servants of the empire. Don’t look at me like that, just listen! Ahem, they tirelessly toil away their unfathomably long lifetimes in administrative tasks that would drive a lesser person insane. Certainly, they are not perfect beings, they are human, after all. But they are worthy of respect. When you see Duke Reihnhardt next, I hope you can see him for who he truly is; a man who has administered over these lands fairly for nearly two hundred years. All while being denied the thing he yearns for most: Ascension.”

“Sounds to me like he’s working for what he wants, same as any other citizen. I’ll try to be a little nicer though. Thanks for explaining it to me. I was wondering why he changed tunes so quickly on the wall. Now that I know he’s basically a glorified assistant, his actions make a lot more sense.”

“I swear, you’re worse than Cameron. Dornev may not have earned any merit whatsoever, but his parents certainly did before their deaths. While your personal power gives you leeway to administer justice as you see fit, do keep in mind that the lower-tier relatives of the families are forced to follow in their ancestors footsteps, which almost unanimously ends in their demise at the claws of beasts and Graymin. Why do you think there are not millions of royal offspring running about? Most of us do not survive.”

“That’s pretty harsh, I uhh, I didn’t realize it was that bad. I promise to try and be a little nicer, at least to the ones who aren’t rude to Mayalyn.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. We are almost there. Once your mana is full, will you please find me so I can show you the formations?”

“Absolutely! Ancient magical wards that can protect an entire city? I wouldn’t miss it.”

“What’s magic?”

“Oh, uh, nothing important,” Jiran mumbled distractedly while basking in the delectable aromas suffusing the hallway. A few short steps later, they entered the ballroom through a side door. It was positively bustling as people danced and drank. The music had taken on an upbeat and brisk quality that pulled at Jiran’s feet. He resisted the desire to dance and instead tracked down Niya, knowing she would have found the best foods already.

Sure enough, she and Cameron were crowded around a large plate with small brown balls on it and only a few were left. Cameron wasn’t paying attention to the food, his gaze locked on a group of distant giggling women.

Jiran shouldered through them playfully, and they watched with bated breath as he popped one of the balls into his mouth. As the flavor turned sour and then rancid, Jiran spat out the strange substance while they burst into laughter.

“He actually ate it!” Tears began streaming down Cameron’s face as he roared with laughter. Niya held her sides, gasping for breath.

“Gross! What is this?”

“I-I-It's soap,” Cameron barely managed to reply around wheezing breaths. “You were right! He went after it without a second’s hesitation.”

“This is exactly what I meant when I said you still act like a kid,” Niya chimed in with a gloating flash of teeth.

“Yeah, laugh it up while you can,” Jiran approached Cameron with another ball of soap in his hands and a manic gleam in his eyes. The boy bolted, spinning her way to the dance floor and grabbing some random woman to use as a shield. Jiran was smiling as he wiped his tongue off with a nearby napkin, completely swept away in their good cheer.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Niya. Try not to worry, at the rate we’re going, we should have the Gray—”

She pointed a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say it! You’ve cursed us enough already. Should be easy, should be simple, should be quick. The shrelkshit always blows sky-high when you say stuff like that. Now, c’mon and eat up. I want to see those formations just as much as you do.”