Elenore sat in her study, working hard in silence… or near silence, as she discovered. Her eyes slowly raised up and her gaze fixed on a clock on the wall. Its pendulum waved back and forth, ticking as it reached certain points. It seed the only active thing in this room frozen in ti. As it waved, the second hand moved ever onward—tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Yet in her study, alone, the connections that she’d ford made the world around her move right along with the clock.
She felt Durran soaring through the sky, leading his n against gods with the blessings of Stout Heart Swan at his beck and call. Through wind and rain he tracked those who would claim the land of Berendar as their own. And through fire and storm he rode, cleaving through their ager claims to the lands of Vasquer and the Burnt Desert. Their spirits fed the dwarven instrunts they bore, empowering Argrave’s forces day by day. Each day he endured as fiercely as the last, as constant as ti.
But was it days, or seconds? Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Argrave walked through Blackgard, officiating the things that Elenore deed necessary to happen. His tongue weaved in and out of conversation, bending egos like he could grasp them. Magisters and nobles walked up to him with a gut full of spite and grievance, but left with smiles and empty pockets. The places he walked upon seed to sprout buildings—the Church of Law, the Bank of Blackgard, the House of Public Appeals…
Yet his other side, like a face beneath a mask of flesh, delighted in the joys of magic and power. With the Domain of Law strengthening his activities at every turn, he weaved incomprehensible script to his end, perfecting spells one after another. And on his mind was a looming figure he sought to surpass—though whether it was Mozzahr or Erlebnis, Elenore could not tell. On and on he worked, passing the days by.
As for Elenore? Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Galamon stood at the head of the three Veidin officers, Grimalt, Bastel, and Rasten, following their lead into the army that had been made for him to command. He called upon the power of his goddess, Veid, granting those honorable souls beneath him strength equal to what he possessed. He walked like a commander and soldier both, learning nas as he made one for himself. Galamon’s prowess as a leader, now with his god at his back, was undeniable. A sorely needed thing, too—it wasn’t long until they pressed into the underground, where the Ebon Cult would await.
But when had the ti grown so short? Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Anneliese worked with Argrave in the day, giving wisdom by the handful when it was needed. In ti, during their party’s search for a champion for Almazora and Rook, she naturally ca to advise a large retinue of spellcasters. Teaching ca naturally to her, and in only a few days, even Magisters deferred to her insight.
At night, Anneliese went to the Alchemist. No two etings between them were the sa, and she ca to marvel at the power her Truesight offered. He role in the heist ca to light, taking precedence over even her looming teacher. She accepted this role, bolstered by her curiosity. And as ti passed, she grew into her position.
Could Elenore say that a week passed? Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Orion did not let ti slip him by. In the day, he guarded Argrave, following the king around as he worked miracles with Law. In the night, he t with lanie, paying little regard to her newfound noble title of Countess of the Low Way of the Rose as he beat her relentlessly. Elenore figured out it was ant to be training after several days of observation.
But after a ti, lanie began to beat him, too. Her sword cut through space itself, attacking from places that Orion could not see or react to. And he was utterly unable to catch her as she danced through reality, swinging chain and blade in an adept show of maneuverability. Her ti as an experience lent her experience in learning, it seed.
What ti was it? Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
Elenore rembered the events of the two weeks before. She had been just as active as everyone, moving desperately to prepare things to be perfect. At the dismay of Anestis, their not-quite captive dwarf, she brought all the tools for dwarven talworking lanie had retrieved to the city and set their forges ablaze again. The spirits that Durran collected were poured into the forges, setting them ablaze with wondrous purple fire. Clang, clang, ca the hamrs, every bit as constant as the clock. The first batch of dwarven steel ca free, taking the shape of crude scimitars of purple tal. Though a sorry sight, they were sharp enough to cut through rock. And in ti, every man in the field would have a blade capable of slaying a Shadowlander.
Tick, tock, she listened to the clock.
The door opened, and Elenore was drawn from her trance. Argrave walked in.
“It’s ti,” Argrave declared, holding his arms out as he entered. “These two weeks seed to blur by, didn’t they?”
“…yes, they did,” Elenore said quietly as she rose to her feet.
In a few monts, Argrave was alone no longer. Orion was the first to follow, being bodyguard to the king. Galamon and Anneliese followed right behind. lanie and Durran were the last to join them.
“Everything is ready on our end,” Argrave said, tapping her desk. “Can you think of anything else we might need to prepare?”
“No. We’re prepared to confront the Ebon Cult,” Elenore answered, not believing these words ca from her mouth. “What about the Alchemist’s end of things?”
“He is completely ready,” Anneliese said. “Having studied the ritual he performs while under his tutelage… I understand fully what he intends, and how each god we allied has decided to play their role. We will have no trouble breaching Erlebnis’ realm, I’m certain. The uncertainty lies primarily in the before and after—naly, in Mozzahr, and in what Erlebnis has prepared.”
“Then… I will remain here, as the connection between all of us,” Elenore said, sitting back down. “And all of you will confront a man who could be a god, and then rob one who is a god.”
“We’ve co a long way in a short ti,” Argrave nodded. “Ti was, I ca before Erlebnis begging for power. But nobody ever asked him to do what he did in the Bloodwoods. And so, let’s see the ttle of the divine. Both ours and his.”
######
“It’s as you said,” Mial, daughter of Mozzahr, said to Georgina, her voice muffled behind her lifelike purple owl mask. “King Argrave will always choose the possibility of a peaceful outco, provided it’s offered. And so he cos down to our city.”
She held a piece of paper that had been delivered in response to theirs, speaking of a parley between Mozzahr and Argrave. It had been posted randomly throughout the underground, but by consequence ca into the hands of the cult rather quickly. Though so in the Ebon Cult thought this communication was a sign of weakness on both sides, Mozzahr allowed Mial to persist in this strategy. And though it had taken an inordinately long ti, a response finally ca. King Argrave of Vasquer was coming.
“How will this go?” Georgina questioned. She wore a mask of her own, now, hiding her pretty face. It depicted a fox. “What does Mozzahr intend for Argrave?”
“That depends on what he does,” Mial said. “My father rely sought an opportunity to gain an advantage in the inevitable war. If Argrave cos and fights, he wins. If Argrave cos and genuinely parleys, father will give him the opportunity to submit. If Argrave doesn’t co, he loses nothing. Whatever the outco, things are swayed in our favor.”
“Will the two actually speak at all?” Georgina questioned.
“If all goes well? I believe so,” she confird. “That new arrival you warned against, Traugott… I believe he talked my father into at least speaking to him.”
“And what if…” Georgina began, but then cut off. “Never mind.”
“Speak freely, Georgina. We are off the record, speaking as friends, not as High Priestess and Initiate,” Mial beckoned.
“What if Argrave has devised sothing to use against Mozzahr?”
“My father once had a building fall on him,” Mial said. “Not any building—one from down here. The entire ceiling caved in on him, bringing tons of the earth’s soil above bearing down on him. He was fine. For my part, I have cast an S-rank spell at him. I’m not totally certain he even blinked.” Mial crossed her arms. “His Emptiness is his strength. So long as it persists, he remains nigh invulnerable. Not even gods are his peer.”
“Can he be separated from it?” Georgina pressed curiously.
“People have tried this in the past. The answer remains no,” Mial said simply. “He can call it back to him wherever he might be. He is its Castellan, and it heeds his call.” She focused on Georgina’s fox mask. “Do you fear for him? Fret not—Mozzahr is not arrogant, I am rely arrogant in his stead. He makes no moves without calculating every possibility. He operates under the assumption that Argrave might be as strong as Gerechtigkeit himself. And it is because of his humility that I am certain he will prevail.”
“And if Argrave is stronger than Gerechtigkeit?” Georgina continued to push.
Mial laughed. “Then I suppose we must worship him, instead. But you get ahead of yourself. It is not set in stone that he cos as an enemy. If Argrave hears Mozzahr’s vision, and is swayed, perhaps they might fight side-by-side against the gods in service of his dream.”
Argrave and Mozzahr, fighting side-by-side… sohow, as Georgina heard it, she could picture it truly happening. King and Castellan, fighting the gods…
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