Chapter 712 (Patreon)

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ToC


* * *


The Daynes lead the largest group of the three, featuring all of the conscripted soldiers and nearly all of the Dragoons. Laur and Tzfell were with them as well, though they stuck by the Daynes' side at Felix's orders. Harn agreed with the tactic; they needed clear leadership, and the Daynes offered that. If push came to shove, the Chanters would be able to keep the Daynes—and the chain of command—alive.

He and Evie brought up the rear, ensuring that no one was following their army as they marched through town. No matter how good Felix's Void Skill was, Harn was relieved that the Glassworks was the closest of the three entrances. He didn't much like marching an army through the open.

Ain't got much choice, do we? Harn shook his head. Blind gods, but it's a strange life we live now.

"Took you long enough," Harn said as Evie fell into step beside him. "You give Felix the package?"

"I did." The girl paused and Harn knew what she wanted to say. "What is it?"

He grunted. "Focus on the mission, Frost King. Look, we're here."

The Glassworks was before them, and it was entirely unremarkable. A simple brick building among near identical buildings, it had the dubious distinction of being marred by streaks of soot from the roof all the way to the ground.

"Looks burnt," she said. "Smells burnt weird too."

Harn sniffed. "Alchemy. Likely part of their process. C'mon."

They both entered the Glassworks behind the others, finding a wide open workshop at least two hundred strides long and half that wide. The walls were brick but entirely covered in elaborate shelving, featuring innumerable metal parts and pieces. The ceiling was high, adorned with wooden beams as thick as a man was tall, and faint magelights shone down from among them.

Dozens of workbenches filled the floor, each made of wood and metal that was exquistely carved with dragons in flight. Tools were arrayed meticulously across nearly all of them, but a few had been swiped clean, and the strange implements were scattered across the dark brown floorboards.

In the very center was the master craftsman's workbench, much like Harn's own Forge. It was covered in tools and materials, each placed into a specific spot. A number of antique hourglasses, some with intricately carved frames and others with delicate filigree, sat upon a shelf over the top of the workbench.

"Oh, this ain't just a glassmakers," Evie said. "What're all these twisty metal things?"

"Springs," Harn said, picking one up. It was thick and it resisted slightly when he squeezed it, before popping back into place once he let up. He pointed to a giant barrel in the far side of the room, marked with the sigils for 'sand.' "This is to make hourglasses."

Aside from the soldiers drifting through the aisles, Harn didn't spot a single worker, guard, or redcloak. That was a surprise, but a welcome one.

Harn lifted a machined gear from a worktable and inspected the tool marks on its edges. "Flat file was used to shape this, and they're refining it til they're smooth as silk." He ran his eyes over the tools around him. "Fascinatin' work."

"What sorta Skills do you need to make all this?" Evie wondered aloud.

"Dunno. Gotta be Rare at least, though." Harn turned over a metal pin as thick as his finger. "Possibly Legendary."

"Precision is required for their craft," Patrim said a measure of pride. "Their Skills are hard to learn without exceptional baseline Dexterity and Heat Resistance. It may not seem it now, but these places are a furnace when the furnaces are running."

"You know a lot," Harn said. "Did you craft before takin' a throne?"

"A barony is no throne, but yes. I was apprenticed here, in fact, when my father ruled. No where near as talented as you are, warrior-smith, but I enjoyed it." The pride in his voice curdled, and Evie fought to keep her nose from wrinkling. "Sa'Vrell even had its own glassworks before the Priests tore it down along with half my city."

"Husband, we have the way open!"

Patrim perked up. "What say we pay the bastards back, eh?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Harn grunted.


* * *


The door to the Vrell Scriptum slid open on well oiled hinges, adding an ineffable harmony to the tide of silence contained within. Aisle upon aisle of tomes and scrolls filled the wide chamber, segmenting varnished wooden floors into discrete pathways around alcoves filled with wooden podiums. At those podiums, scholars sat, painstakingly copying illustrated tomes onto empty sheets of thick vellum.

Still wrapped in Felix's Abyssal Skein, they slipped past them all. The scribes were incredibly intent upon their business and didn't so much as glance up.

Vess led them through the aisles, followed closely by Yintarion, Beef, Archie, and a contingent of Dragoons. They were all volunteers, those who wanted to save the Duke and felt comfortable with the dragon-bonded warrior leading them. To Vess, it was a surprisingly large group.

As they walked, memories resurfaced as the smell of glue, paper, and ink filtered through Vess' senses. She recalled running through these halls as a child when she was learning governance, history, and everything else required of an heir to the ducal seat.

"Is this a library?" Beef asked. He struggled down the aisles, his wide shoulders and thick crystalline Hallow armor making it difficult to avoid knocking over podiums and tomes.

"No. And yes," Vessilia answered. "The Scriptum was originally meant to accumulate knowledge for the nobility as a way of gathering influence…but my mother changed its purpose. Now it is where we disseminate knowledge as best we can. The scholars are copying books that we procure and those books are made freely available to my people.”

“Doesn’t the Heirocracy frown on that?” Hallow asked. “I recall something of the sort in Ahkestria.”

“They do. My father has had to fight tooth and nail against the Hierocracy's edicts to keep it in place.”

"So you're just telling people all about Skills and Titles?" Archie asked.

"No," Vess admitted. "Those are unfortunately too dangerous to just hand out. My opinion on that has changed a bit in light of—"

"Felix," Archie completed for her. Vess nodded.

"Yes, since Felix. But here at the Vrell Scriptum, we copy down what I would consider foundational information: mathematics, geography, and history. All useful tools for the citizens of Pax’Vrell. My mother was once proud to call our city the most well-educated in all the Continent, even including the mage-city of Levantier.”

"A proud tradition," Yin said with a sage-like nod. His new body was huge, but he maneuvered through the aisles with a serpentine grace that Beef clearly envied. "We can use them later."

Vess patted her Companion on his neck. His scales were warm to the touch and very smooth. "Perhaps. For now, we need to find the tunnel entrance and the—"

“I see it,” Archie said, pointing. “There, at the back of that bookshelf.”

Vess peered ahead, and she too could just barely make out the lines of her House Seal. “Dragoons. On me.”

"Oh, wait! Is that a secret bookshelf door?" Beef asked excitedly. "That's so cool!"

Vess strode forward, running her hands over the shelving as she followed the mark of her House Seal. "This is definitely it," she said. She reached up, drawing on old memories as she grasped a book and pulled it backwards. A sharp click sounded behind the bookshelf, but nothing opened. She turned again, pulling slightly harder. The bookshelf was solid as a mountain.

"It's locked," she said, somewhat deflated.

"Beware," Yin warned. “Company.”

An old man wearing the robes of a Scriptum scholar came down the aisle, humming to himself. In short order, he sat down on a podium nearby and opened a thick book before pulling out quills, vellum, and inks from a pack at his side. Vess could tell that he was clearly planning on being there a while, intent on copying down the tome. It was also obvious he couldn't see them, but he was decidedly in the way of their progress—Vess blinked. She recognized him.

"I need to drop Abyssal Scheme," Vess announced. "Bring everyone close."

"Why?" Archie asked. "We can just knock the old man out and slip away."

"No. I know him. He's the entrance guardian for the Scriptum, and he can open this far faster than we will be able to if I can convince him. But I can't talk to him if he can't perceive me."

"You trust him?" Yin asked. Vess nodded, so the Drake shrugged. "Then let us not waste time."

Dropping stealth was less about deactivating a Skill—it wasn't hers, first of all—but more like denying its influence. Felix's power acted on connection and consent, at least this working did. The moment Vess denied it access, Abyssal Skein dropped from all of them.

Immediately the scholar’s head snapped up, but Vess was at his side and her hand clasped over his mouth. He jerked, trying to dislodge her grip, but he was no match for her Strength. "Calm yourself, Uldred. I mean you no harm. Do you recognize me?"

The scholar nodded, his rhuemy eyes wide.

"If I release you, you must remain silent. Do you agree?"

Another nod, and Vess stepped back from the old man.

"Ve–Vessilia Dayne? You are alive?"

"I am. And I have come back to save my city."

The man worked his jaw, unintelligible sounds flowing from his throat. "Uh, I—my dear—save us—No, you cannot contend with the Hierei or his forces. They've bound the Dragoons. You—"

"They have imprisoned my father," Vess said, quiet but fierce enough that the old man went pale. "I will tolerate them no longer."

"Vessilia, you mustn't—"

"Uldred, I know you haven't seen me since I was still in braids, but I am no longer that little girl. I have grown...and I bring allies."

The Dragoons came into his sight, along with Beef, Hallow, Archie, and Yintarion. "Rebel Dragoons, and...A Dawn Drake..." Uldred whispered in terrified awe. "What have you done?"

"The right thing. Now, it is your turn. Show us the way into the hidden tunnels."

The scholar licked his lips, eyes flicking between everyone until finally he straightened himself. "Very well, Lady Dayne. Let it not be said that Uldred Anders Latvere shrank away from his duty."

The scholar stepped to the bookshelf, pulling a series of books in a particular order. Six sharp metallic sounds rang through the wooden facade before it split apart. Wood and stone rearranged itself like a spinning puzzle, pieces flowing nearly silently before they resolved into a tall archway. Beyond, a well-lit tunnel extended down into the earth.

"Beef, Archie, lead the way," Vess ordered, and the two quickly led the Dragoons into the tunnel. Vess turned back to the scholar and gripped his hands. "Thank you, Uldred. My family is in your debt."

"No, Lady Dayne I—I am sorry that we failed your family," he said, and tears fell down his wrinkled cheeks.

Vess smiled. "There is no failure where there is still hope. Keep your head down tonight. The next few hours will be eventful."

"Good luck, Vessilia."

She slipped through, her steps lighter as she moved onward toward the Citadel.

Toward death, one way or another.


* * *


The moment the bookshelf rearranged itself, Uldred clutched at his chest. From the moment he had recognized the Dayne heir, there was a ringing in his ears that drove him to distraction. It had only grown as the young woman had told him of her plans. Now, after he’d assisted her into the tunnels, it burned through his core like a fire poker.

Uldred had little time, and less choice.

He pulled out a green stone shaped like a coiled Dragon. "Attention, my Lord. I must report an intruder in the city..."

Coerced or not, he had an Oath to fulfill.

Forgive me, Lady Dayne, for I do not wish to die.