Her Power

The shattered sky appeared worse than it did before.

The cracks were larger, bolder, as if the seams holding reality together was ready to burst.

The pattern became harder to read, but investigation showed the numbers accelerated by two weeks. They were waiting to see if it will change again before they made the announcement to the rest of the congregation. The news would likely upend whatever discussions they were having.

Lwenas Presea sat at the upper left side of the Grand Symposium of Tristen. The seats were arranged in a circle that cascaded down in rows, facing a podium at the center of the room. Unfortunately, she was positioned next to the window where a constant reminder of their predicament was hard to avoid.

One month and six days left before the end. Sun above.

She brushed the thick locks of red hair away from her face and adjusted her spectacles before she tore her gaze from the glass window. She should really be paying attention to the leaders of Vastille.

If only they weren't so vain with their discussion.

"Still nothing from the Hero of the Creed?" 

"Kirsten already sent half of their army to the final spire and Duhalin barely have any left to see to its own defenses!"

"The knights are there for the beasts, not the spire itself, Magistrate Erich. Only the hero and her guardians are capable of activating the tower."

"The point is that we keep losing people as the hero continues to struggle."

"Do you suggest we replace the hero then, Duchess Edwill?"

Lwenas furrowed her brows and held herself back from screaming at the leaders.

Not only was Ilara irreplaceable, any progress she had made would be for naught if the beasts got to her. The spire must be protected no matter the cost.

Perhaps... accepting help from the unified republics was their safest bet. 

But of course, nobody would dare bring it up. It would be unprecedented. 

Throughout all of Vastillian history, they have been sheltered by the Spearhead Mountains to the west and the great desert to the east. Let alone the enormous wealth of mana that saw them defended by the greatest sorcerers in all of Feonas. They have never been invaded nor needed help in the past.

But their time was almost up and the mana that nourished Vastille had also made beasts far stronger than they should be. They barely have any options left.

Lwenas should really say something.

She wasn’t headmaster of the Magic Academy anymore, not after her best student killed the hero six years ago. but they still elected her to be a part of this congregation. They still wanted her to have a voice.

If only Princess Irenea attended the meeting. Lwenas glanced at the empty seat of the royal family at the highest table across from her. Irenea didn’t ascend the throne, so why wasn’t she here?

More importantly… 

There were rumors about her former student escaping Serenti Prison and murdering King Rewald, just like he did the previous hero. They tried to suppress news of the king's death, but as soon as Kyr Solian’s name got attached to it, the rumor spread like wildfire.

That would probably reflect on Lwena's voice in today’s meeting. The magistrates already liked reminding everyone of her vocal support for Kyr Solian’s innocence many years ago. Perhaps that was why they chose her to begin with.

But... what if she used that to her advantage?

What if Lwenas voted for something she didn’t like on purpose so that choice would be attached to her and the rumors?

And if Kyr Solian truly escaped his imprisonment…

What if, indeed…

*

The land was surprisingly fertile on the way to Lumis.

The old town was relatively close to the Spire of Knowledge, but leading the beasts away from the hero’s parade had their group run east all the way to Lake Selas, before the creatures finally gave up.

At the very least, they bought the people a lot of time to escape. Though it was Kyr's fault they had to leave in the first place.

Kyr sat at the coach’s box next to Cinza, while the others slept inside the caravan. He stared at the shattered sky, wondering if the giants still looked down at them.

His horn didn’t open again, even when he channeled large amounts of mana to fight the beasts. It was good to know that.

“What is that, thirty-six days?” Cinza asked, looking at the same sky.

“I’m sorry…” Kyr whispered, clutching tightly at the sorcerer's hat in his lap.

Cinza laughed. “If you’re going to blame anyone, why not blame the heiress of House Ryhart? She’s the one who desperately wanted to see what’s under the spire ever since Master Morick told her of it. Or perhaps that woman Vysa for coaxing you. Though Aven’s killer is probably the most to blame. But if we really want to bring it all the way back, then whoever shattered the sky is truly at fault.”

“Alright, I get it,” Kyr said. “...thank you.”

Cinza shrugged.

“I can’t help but notice you called Morick ‘master’,” Kyr said. “Did you used to work for him?”

“Of sorts,” Cinza replied. “I tried to rob House Rhyman once upon a time. It was the cleverest heist I’ve ever hatched. Twenty of Esmerand’s finest thieves was in on the job. They would’ve sung songs about me and my merry band!”

“You had a band?"

"You met one of them," Cinza said with a wink. "Well, three, technically. Karlan, Teodan and Yaden. Bron was there at the prison too, but the warden got to him before you had the chance to meet."

"The people you and Leatrix assembled to help me escape..."

"That's them. There's more in Esmerand, and they'd be here with us if they weren't mistaken for foreign saboteurs. Sun-damned disk heads. But as much as I hate the royal guard, I hope they caught whoever was bombing the capital city. Bastards have been a menace for a long time."

"If only we can get news." Kyr sighed. "But what was this heist you were talking about?"

“Ah, yes. I posed as Master Morick’s right-hand man. The heir of the Great House of Rhyman didn’t even blink when I told him I was assigned to serve him since childhood.” Cinza’s voice shifted. “Are you? He said to me. Well, that’s my bad for not paying attention all these years. Please, take all my keys and wax seals.”

It was a really good impression of Morick.

“I wouldn’t call Morick the brightest,” Kyr said, “but he’s better in other ways.”

“And don’t we all know it," Cinza replied. "Probably the only charitable man in all of Esmerand. I felt bad when I learned of it later.”

“Must’ve been a lot of gold you stole.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

Kyr raised an eyebrow.

“Lady Leatrix caught me at the verge of my success,” Cinza said with a chuckle. “This was long before she joined the inquisitor’s office. And to be fair, while my introduction to Master Morick was lacking in imagination, everything else was accounted for. My papers, the people I bribed, everything.”

“But she figured you out?”

“She made me a deal. ‘I can see worth in the work you do,’ she told me. ‘But it must be hard having to run from the city guard all the time. I followed your trail and the slums aren’t the nicest place to live’.” Cinza turned to look at him in the eyes. “I would've done anything to leave that place. Rhyman’s riches were my ticket.”

“But?”

“But she was right. If a bystander like her could figure me out, then it was a matter of time before the real inquisitors rained down apocalypse on me.”

“I know it firsthand…” Kyr lamented.

“The deal Lady Leatrix offered me was that I’d work for House Rhyman the way I pretended to be. We even found regular jobs for the crew I assembled across the city. There was only one catch.”

Kyr could easily picture a young Leatrix acting all coy as she made this brazen thief into an ally.

“She told me that after she was appointed inquisitor, I’d switch jobs and work for her instead. And the thieves would be her web of information across Esmerand. I was afraid the young lady had read too many outlandish stories from drunken poets.”

“But then it became a reality.”

“Such is her power.”

Kyr thought about that.

Such was her power…

Beyond the crest of the hill along the road, the town of Lumis finally came into view. Just as he heard, the old place had been rebuilt, primarily for its mining operations nearby.

Its stone walls remained blackened from what transpired six years ago, but the houses within appeared to be new, painted white like the bigger cities across Vastille. They even had a clocktower in the middle.

What secrets would they unearth this time?