Chapter Text
After Eastpool, it was back into the deadlands. Jill didn’t mind, in some ways. Dominants could use aether in Blighted land, yes, but it was more difficult. It removed the temptation to use magic, the habit, when she had to look inwards for aether. She couldn’t help but notice that Clive looked more at ease as well - he ate more, and slept at night when not on watch. Like he had in the Hideaway. Jill’s heart ached for him and those things he could not change.
The terrain here was not forgiving. Even before the Blight these hills had been rocky, part of the hills separating Rosaria from the Northern Territories. They followed the cracked remains of a road west and north and always uphill.
On the second morning out of Eastpool, Torgal abruptly started to sniff at the road, tail standing straight out in alarm. Clive had his hand on his sword in a heartbeat.
“I think it’s an old trail,” Joshua said. “Look. These are boot prints.”
Jill and Clive both peered at what Joshua’s sharp eyes had seen before theirs. He was right. It was faint and weathered, but someone had passed this way not long after a rain. A boot print was visible in a thin layer of dried Blight ash-mud. Jill tracked several of its fellows, all pointed the same way they were going. “More than one person,” she decided, as Torgal continued to scour the road nose-first. “Three, I think.”
“Not concerned with hiding their trail,” Joshua went on, “but then, who’d follow them out here?”
“Fallen constructs,” Clive said.
“I’ve yet to see those stalk anyone,” Joshua rebutted. “They come awake when disturbed, to be sure, but in years of investigating Fallen ruins, I’ve never encountered any that would give chase.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jill said. “We might not be alone out here, and anyone venturing this deep into the Dim is unlikely to be a friend of the law.” That was their own reasoning for hiding in the deadlands, after all.
“These footprints are going the same way we are, nothing on the way back,” Clive said. “We might catch up to these people.”
“Torgal will know about it first,” Jill said, “so no point worrying.”
Clive and Joshua looked at each other. Clive shrugged. The both of them seemed to decide Jill had the right of it. They weren’t being ambushed right now by whoever these people were, and so they could do little about it but keep going no matter how surprising the find was.
They found more signs of the group further down the trail. Torgal sniffed out a campsite. Complete with a small pit for a fire. Clive looked at the charred wood and ashes that remained and said that it had been used several times. Joshua agreed with him. A little more investigation of the site and Jill found a small stash of firewood in a sheltered spot. “Multiple trips, supplies, and they’re planning to come back,” Joshua said thoughtfully. “There are some people who investigate Fallen ruins. They could be here to investigate the Sagespire as well. I can’t think of anything else nearby that might be of interest.”
“Or to rob it,” Clive said. “We’ve seen that sort too.”
They couldn’t find any tracks indicating their unseen companions on this trail had made a return trip recently. Whoever these people were, they were likely still out here with them. Jill couldn’t help but hope they didn’t cross paths. She wanted this time just with Clive and Joshua and Torgal, not worrying about having to fight or be overheard. Even in the deadlands, this was the best of their childhood, but with the freedom of adulthood as well.
She was almost sorry when the top of the tower came into view above the hills.
The Sagespire, whatever it had originally been, was beautiful. The records she and Joshua had examined back at the Hideaway had mentioned it (except for that damned merchant’s account), but in person she could appreciate it all the more. Its tall, slim profile gleamed white despite the years and the dimmed sunlight. Arched windows gave the structure a strange, textured appearance that none of the masons or builders of Valisthea had yet managed to recreate even with their own magic. Some of the upper tiers appeared to be nothing but windows.
“It’s larger than I expected,” Joshua said. “I wonder why nobody studied it before the Blight advanced.” Immediately, he started craning his neck as if to survey all the terrain around them. His notebook and one of his charcoal writing sticks appeared in his hands, and Jill watched in astonishment as he managed to write and walk at the same time - albeit slowly.
Clive was less enthused. He scowled up at the tower. Jill sped up a little to walk alongside him while Joshua was still absorbed in his thoughts. “Are you well?” she asked.
“It reminds me of Reverie,” Clive said. “I don’t know why. They’re just tall towers, they barely look alike. It’s just… a feeling, I suppose. It’s hard to trust the Fallen.” He managed a wan smile. “And especially their moving floors.”
“We know they were people,” Jill said. “At least some of them shared our goals in fighting Ultima.”
“Did they?” Clive asked, a shadow in his eyes. “Did they want humanity freed, or did they want to kill a god?”
Jill understood his concern and squeezed his hand. “We’ll have to settle for knowing that they wanted Ultima gone. They’re gone too, after all, and their constructs are the only things of theirs that can hurt us.”
Clive smiled at her and then turned back to Joshua. Jill did too - Joshua had stopped entirely and appeared to be sketching. She couldn’t help her smile, and she didn’t want to either. When she glanced up at Clive, consternation and fondness both were writ on his face. Jill’s smile grew.
Whatever they did or did not find in this Sagespire - and Jill did not have high hopes - this trip had done some good already. Anything that helped convince Clive to live and see another day was a good thing by Jill’s lights.
Heart a bit lighter, she went to collect Joshua and continue on.
—
As they drew closer still, Joshua saw that the Sagespire was even taller than it appeared from a distance. As they approached, the tower looked delicate. At its foot, it looked massive. Imposing. The entire structure sat in a shallow depression, which was itself too perfectly circular to be entirely natural, even allowing for the fact some of the hills might have shifted in the past milennia. Gardens, perhaps? The tower clearly had a strong ornamental component to it. The three of them spread out to look around, while Torgal took a well-earned nap.
Something hissed next to him. Joshua whipped around to spot another one of those small Fallen markers whirring to life at Clive’s approach. Clive winced. “I found something strange,” he said. “Come on.”
Joshua followed. It didn’t take long to realise what Clive had found so curious. A mass of dark, dull crystal, stacked neatly by the start of a curving ramp leading up into the tower.
“At least we know where the entrance is,” Jill said.
More worryingly, Torgal had ceased his nap. He was instead sniffing around intently. Their unseen companions, no doubt. Clive moved towards the crystals. “I’ve heard of these. Dusk crystals, they’re called. Poor substitutes for crystals mined from the Mothers. They break after only a few spells.”
“But they work,” Joshua said.
“Not enough to fill the gap,” Clive said.
Joshua picked one up. It truly didn’t look like any crystal he’d evrer heard of before. It didn’t even have the shine of volcanic glass. It didn’t catch the weak sunlight well, and the glow from within he associated with magic crystals was almost imperceptible. He tapped it against the nearest wall - the sound the crystal made was not a soft ringing but a dull click. He’d never tried to use a crystal himself before, and after a bit of fumbling, it didn’t seem he could channel his own aether into it. There would be no testing that aspect of the crystal here. “Shall we go inside?” he asked. “I’m curious how so many of these came to be here.”
Before he could start up the ramp, Torgal bounded across to take point. The wolf cast a baleful glance back at Joshua as though he should know better. Behind him, he heard Jill stifle laughter.
“It seems you’ve been told,” Clive said.
“Nursemaided by a wolf,” Joshua said, trying to hide the prickle of real resentment he felt. Torgal didn’t know any better. Torgal was just trying to protect them all.
Torgal padded ahead of them into the shaded interior. Joshua forgot about his resentment in an instant. All three of them gasped at the sight, and Torgal might have as well had he been capable.
Inside, the first few storeys of the Sagespire had been constructed somehow to let in light while appearing fairly closed-off from the exterior. What sunlight made it through Ultima’s clouded skies slanted through the windows and fell in intricate patterns across the fluted columns and tiled floors. It was art. Plain and simple art. Not accomplished by magic alone, either, but by measurement - understanding of the sky, understanding of their building materials.
“This has to be an important place to the Fallen,” Jill said. “It’s so beautiful. Why make it this beautiful unless they valued it?”
“I agree,” Joshua said.
This was hope. The most intricate site he’d ever seen, and almost untouched. Just this atrium, or whatever it was, alone could keep all the scholars of the Undying occupied for years. There could only be more within the tower itself. He wished they had the months they’d need for even a cursory survey of this place.
Clive said, “I think I can see more of those crystals,” and headed further in. Joshua hadn’t chased three steps after him when a hideous shrieking sound rang out over the grounds. All three humans clapped their hands over their ears, while Torgal dropped and whined.
“What is that?” Clive shouted over the sound. It pulsed, agonisingly, for what felt like hours. Then it cut out, just like that. The silence in the aftermath was a different kind of painful.
Above them, the tower lit up in an ominous red.
Threat detected, a cool and inhuman voice announced. All personnel to stations. All personnel to stations. Omega protocol engaged.
“Something’s made it angry,” Joshua said. Could this be why nobody had investigated? Clive and Jill both had weapons drawn. “Look!”
Above them, at the top of another spiralling ramp, a trio of men fled for their lives. As they watched, one fell and started to slide. Clive swore and ran to help. Jill was not far behind him. Joshua fell in line. His plans for methodical research were well and truly ruined for the moment. Maybe for the rest of the trip, depending on what this alarm woke up. Whatever an omega protocol was.
At least they could be sure of seeing more Fallen defenses.
Clive righted the fallen man by simply grabbing his collar and hauling him to his feet. “Is there anything behind you?” he barked.
“We aren’t staying to find out!” one of the men shouted back. He barely sounded a man - closer to a boy. All three of them had that gangly look that even Joshua himself hadn’t quite shed. The one who’d spoken was the only one with crystals still in hand, though one of the others hadn’t dropped his pickaxe. They didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge the strangers in the tower other than that. They just kept running.
Jill watched them go and sighed as they left their view. “Sometimes I think that might be the sensible approach to Fallen machines,” she said. “Shall we continue?”
“I consider this a promising sign,” Joshua said, entirely honest. This was more promising than anything he’d hoped for. This was something the Fallen had dedicated effort to defending. “I say press on.” Even if they had to camp within the building itself. He didn’t want to waste a single minute.
—
It did not take long for Byron to remember why he and Eugen only caught up every few years. The man was infuriating. The stiff-necked, stubborn, unreasonable -
“Jackass!”
“Bloviator!”
They glared at each other.
“Perhaps a break, my lords?”
Eugen’s manservant was the only mediator they had right now. Clive’s latest stolas said he was sending a man, a proper mediator, but he had yet to arrive and so they fell back on the domestic help. Still, unlike some people, Byron could recognise a good idea when he heard one. “By your leave, Eugen,” he said, maybe a little stiffly. “Shall we try again after dinner?”
“Make it tomorrow’s midmeal,” Eugen growled.
Byron rose, bowed the exact depth propriety required, and stalked out. It hadn’t even been an important matter that brought them to this point, since they were waiting on the mediator for that. Just docking fees! That was it! The stubborn - he wasn’t proposing waiver, just instalments due to the harsh conditions, a delay maybe -
Enough. He’d left for a reason. Time to cool off, stubborn old man. He might end up in shouting matches with Eugen on a regular basis, but he could at least be aware of that tendency.
With Ran’dellah secure again, soldiers on the walls and even civilians arriving at the practice grounds every day to learn a little more of how they might defend their city, Byron had returned to lodging at the Waning Crescent. The inn had pulled through the worst of the crisis well, and they’d welcomed him back eagerly enough. It did him good to spend time away from Eugen.
As he walked through the city, he found his irritation waning. It usually did. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge. How could he, when there was so much of interest around him? Ran’dellah was recovering from its scare most admirably! It was just past the worst of the afternoon heat, when the people of Ran’dellah customarily awoke from their midday rest, and they took to their streets with purpose rather than wandering out in numb despair. The markets were open, though there was little on sale and none of it cheap. The guard shifts changed in orderly procedure. People picked up their tools to repair what was broken; to haul the day’s fish, water, and fuel; to tend their shaded gardens or make arrows or mend clothing. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
He stopped to talk to a few merchants while he could. He even helped a few of them set up for the evening trade as they conversed, since idle hands weren’t welcome. The rapidly rising prices of everything were a concern for all, though Byron knew Eugen had little interest in the whys and wherefores of such things. He got so wrapped up in his discussions that it was near full dark by the time he returned to his lodgings.
The innkeeper came to find him almost as soon as he’d set foot through the door. “A message for you, Lord Byron,” the woman said, a paper proffered. A paper. Not a stolas.
The mediator at last? “Thank you, madam!” Byron said, and plucked it from her hands.
It was a letter of introduction and a letter setting out some expectations. Clive had sent stolases with identifying information - Quinten duBois, formerly a magistrate of Sanbreque, latterly a de facto mayor of a Bearer refuge, late middle age, pale-haired and balding, with deep and fresh scars on his hands - but only the name was evident from the letter. That and maybe the scars, for there were obvious wobbles to the practiced penmanship.
This Quinten intended to present himself to Eugen in two days’ time in order to arrange discussions, which would not take place in the Armoury. He would lodge separately from any and all representatives involved. There would be no representatives from Clive due to Quinten’s presence. He would not accept guests outside of their meetings. Messages to him were to be sent through Quinten’s assistant, a man of Clive’s Hideaway named August.
August? Byron frowned. He knew the man. One of Clive’s Cursebreakers if he recalled correctly. A trusted one. A guard as well as an assistant, and not a man easily talked around or intimidated.
Otherwise, the letter concluded, the timing of the meetings and acceptable conduct during them were to be agreed in person. He would see them in two days.
Byron sighed. It sounded like Clive had found both the best and worst person to handle mediation. A Sanbrequois mediator was a good idea when Rosarians and Dhalmeks had the most leverage in these discussions, while his alignment with Bearers meant Quinten was unlikely to bear much love for the Empire in its more recent forms. A man of the law, too - hopefully one more versed in writing and arbitrating contracts than sending petty lawbreakers to the gallows or the gaol. But also clearly strict and cold, and Clive hadn’t warned him.
His nephew had grown cunning. He sacrificed his own representative in these talks to help his handpicked arbiter succeed, in full knowledge that Byron would advance at least some of Clive’s own interests.
Not all of them. Byron was here for Rosaria. And laying the groundwork for Clive to become Archduke was arguably not in Clive’s best interest, no more than being Archduke had been in Elwin’s interest. But Byron had promised Joshua, and he agreed with Joshua’s assessment of Clive’s talents.
Elwin would be so proud of both his boys. Alive, after all life had thrown at them. Working so hard for the sake of others. Unselfish to a fault, both of them.
Well, Elwin…I’ll just have to be proud of them on your behalf as well. You’ll see.
Byron called for pen and paper and set to composing his reply. He had promises to keep, and by the Founder, he intended to keep them.