Aren made sure to prepare everything he could need before entering the city. His pack ballooned with a multitude of measurement devices he had crafted during his research. Many were designed for detecting magical resonances and pure mana, but some were made for identifying various types of holy and life energies. He also made sure to bring the barrier relic that he could use in the city.
When his pack had grown to half his size, he accepted a black band from a guard. The woman watched him with an incredulous look but did not comment, as Aren was still part of the Luminous One procession’s guards.
The archmage hoped to dissect the device and find a way around it, just in case he needed to use magic stealthily. He could not dismiss that it would also serve his peace of mind, as the idea of being under its limitations for months irritated him.
When he tried to pick up the pack, he nearly staggered under its weight and almost reached for his magic to augment his body, only to remember he had already put the band on and cursed under his breath.
“Too heavy?” Bar’tik asked, a mirthful expression on his face.
“I… yes,” Aren admitted, finding pride unhelpful in this situation.
“Split some with us. I still have space in my bag,” Lan said helpfully, with Wes nodding along.
The stockier of the brothers started putting some of the devices in his own pack. “What do you need all of those for?”
“Some light research,” Aren responded.
“Just know if you get caught using magic, we will get into trouble for it too,” Wes said.
“Don’t worry, I’m an expert at this,” Aren said with a cheeky smile.
“That’s what worries me…” Wes mumbled but relented.
The trio of warriors looked increasingly beaten up every day, with wear and tear visible on their clothes as they sparred relentlessly whenever they could with the training golems. Each day, the golems would adapt to changes in their strategy and fight the trio until they were left breathless on the sand.
When Lan broke his own arm on a golem’s axe on the third day, Aren tried to add a dampening field to their attacks. The warriors quickly realized something was off, and he eventually gave in to the endless complaints that followed. Still, this did not please the priests, who had to heal the resulting injuries and saw the warriors training with magic as offensive. He felt a conflict brewing, but since there would be no golems within the city walls, it would have some time to calm down.
Aren did not speak with Marie and Crina over the last few days much, having no reason to. The exemplar was becoming more impatient with each day, Aren guessed it was the result of stress from the lack of any moves by the assassins. Her mood worsened especially after their fake procession reached its destination without any issues, and he dismissed his clay stand-ins, turning them to dust. Crina, unable to leave the watchful gaze of Marie, also seemed slightly put down by the situation.
He shook off his thoughts as they entered the city, his now smaller pack still heavy on his shoulders. The procession was already underway as he mounted his skalith. Crina sat on a raised platform carried by four holy warriors, with Marie riding before her. Four skalith pulled the pure golden core on a sledge behind her.
People gathered in confused silence and once they realized what they were looking at, kneeled, observing their passage to the city’s temple. The city resembled the one Aren had ended in before, but the colorful paintings on the buildings represented religious scenes instead of abstract flowers or vistas. One caught his attention, an exemplar identified by a long green cape, standing on top of the corpse of an ancient dragon, one of the three that once ruled this continent.
It took them nearly an hour to reach the center of the city, and by the end of it, Aren regretted everything as his calves burned while holding onto his lizard. He seemed to be the only one struggling and swore to find a way around the band’s effect as soon as he could, sweat pouring down his skin as the sun reached its peak.
They stopped in front of a set of wide stairs that led to the temple, and everyone started dismounting. He did his best to stand tall despite the pain in his legs and followed at the end of the group, taking the steps slowly. A few of the holy warriors watched him with amusement in their eyes. He had to do his best to breathe through his nose once he reached the top.
The temple was the largest he had seen, its broad circular foundations supporting successive levels that rose one above the other, gradually narrowing as they ascended. At its peak sat a spherical golden figure, gleaming in the sunlight. Only the scarlet palace, a short walk away, surpassed it in scale.
Entering the building, they were greeted by a searing heat from another imitation of the sun, leading Aren to scowl as he stood in the back row. A few teenagers in white togas took their packs and hoisted them over their shoulders, carrying them to their rooms. The procession lasted long enough for the whole city to prepare for the prayer. He looked at Mar’tei, who, like him, didn’t have any magic but seemed to bear it far better, her skin shining slightly in the light. He now noticed that she had tanned a little during the long travels in the sun.
“You are doing alright?” the younger mage whispered in question to him.
“Fine…” he answered, trying to regain calm breath.
She looked a bit worried for a second, but the ceremony started, and they had to sing the opening prayer. Aren quickly found the correct words recorded in his memory and uttered them, the room growing brighter as a few dozen local priests glowed with golden light.
When Crina stepped next to the radiant orb, many of the priests looked with surprise. A few looked at a well-dressed older man, a scarlet cape hanging off both his shoulders, yet the man himself didn’t react, his bright green eyes focused in prayer, embracing the words and reflecting on them.
Crina told of the city of Orvalin, whose people’s hearts had grown sick, and how a few faithful had raised a monument to the sun. As its golden light reflected across the city, the people’s spirits were healed, and warmth returned to their hearts.
Then the prayer continued for what felt like hours to Aren. Over time, he started stumbling on words as badly as Bar’tik. The berserker had refused to practice beforehand. His throat felt dry, and he was thankful that the hall got slightly darker as time went on because his eyes were starting to hurt too.
Finally, when it ended, he saw many people trying to reach Crina, their voices distorted by their sheer number. They were shortly stopped by Marie, who cited the long journey and the need for rest. Crina promised she would listen to their voices after the morning prayer the next day.
When Aren finally stepped outside, he was thankful for the fresh air. The sun was already lowering, and the cooling air shimmered in the fading light. Then he saw something that rooted him in place, a bundle of swaying red hair charging toward him, an angry gaze piercing straight through him, a long curved sword swinging with each step. He tried to make out the features of the face, but he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What… how…?” Aren stammered, the world spun in his eyes.
“Ren!?” Mar’tei shouted.
Aren tried to turn toward her, but the ground shifted beneath his feet. He lost his footing and slammed into the hard stone floor. He cursed. He didn’t feel any kind of spell or curse affecting him, yet it must clearly be some kind of attack. He reached for his mana, but it felt distant, unreachable, just like his consciousness as it began slipping into darkness.
Aren jumped into a sitting position. A wet towel flew across the room as he prepared his mana, only to stop halfway when the damp cloth slapped Mar’tei in the face. He looked around in surprise. The place looked luxurious, finding himself on a scarlet sofa inlaid with gold rims. The walls were covered in hanging tapestries representing the city from different perspectives, and the sun shining over it serenely.
“Are you okay?” Mar’tei asked, holding the towel in her hands and placing it on a low table.
“I? What happened?” he asked.
“You fainted from the heat,” she said. “The governor took you to his manor. Everyone is preparing for an audience right now. You have been out for an hour.”
“Wait, there wasn’t any…?” Aren didn’t finish his thoughts about the attack. While he didn’t use any mana, he felt it flow through his soul smoothly, neither did he detect any abnormalities that would accompany interference, though his throat felt dry and cracked.
He felt his cheeks reddening and tried to hide it by quickly grabbing and downing a half-filled cup of water that lay on the table. He couldn’t believe his first ever heat stroke was because he wasn’t able to use magic for a little while. He shook his head, trying to stop the embarrassment that filled his mind.
“Let me get you a clean cup,” Mar’tei said, standing up and grabbing a jug and cup from a nearby credenza.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the new cup and emptying it. He felt his black raven hair sticking to his forehead.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Yeah…” he let out a huff, calming down a bit and hanging his head low. “Thanks for taking care of me…”
“I learned quickly that the desert can be just as dangerous as the deep cold on our plains,” she said, trying to sound comforting. “I felt exhausted every day for the first few weeks when I was not able to use magic to cool down. I lost consciousness once too during a very hot day. My brother had to carry me as well. Acclimation takes a long time.”
“And it won’t happen if I’m using magic to keep cool whenever my mantle’s natural coolness isn’t enough,” Aren sighed. “Did Bar’tik carry me? Where are they?”
“Yes, and they are getting new clothes to attend the audience in,” she answered.
“I should change too,” Aren said, feeling the sweaty clothes still sticking to him. “Are our packs here?”
“No, they are at the temple,” she answered. “Maybe we will have time to go there. The two of us were asked by Governor Bar to join his meeting with Exemplar Marie. Can you walk? The priest who healed you said you should be fine after waking up.”
Aren stood up, then took a cautionary step. He felt alright, if a little out of energy, and would have preferred going back to sleep. Noticing his feet were bare as he moved on a soft carpet below him, he looked questioningly at Mar’tei.
“They do not wear shoes in the palace,” she explained. “Everyone’s feet were washed by servants, yours included. It felt weird.”
“I see,” Aren shook his head. “I’m okay. I’m guessing the governor does not like us mages being here? Most likely wants to criticize Marie with our presence.”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “He did not seem like the sort, although he only addressed me once.”
Aren found that curious, but he would meet the man soon enough. His thoughts wandered to Leilara, as he thought he saw her before collapsing, but that may as well have been his mind playing tricks on him. If it was truly her, she would be here even if the whole garrison tried to remove her.
He took the cloth that Mar’tei had placed on the table and wiped off as much sweat from his body as he could without stripping. Mar’tei waited patiently until he was ready to leave the room after emptying another cup of water.
He followed her as she led him outside into an opulent corridor. The walls were made of deep red sandstone with scarlet and gold accents, tapestries hung on the walls depicting religious symbols, and an expensive carpet stretched across the entire floor.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
A servant was already waiting for them outside, a young woman of dark complexion wearing deep blue clothes with flowery embroidery bearing the One Sun symbol on her sleeve. A symbol of a burning torch on her other side, now that he saw it, could be found on nearly all of the tapestries. On some, it received rays of light from the sun, on others lighting a night above a city, or simply adorning a corner in some cases.
The servant led them efficiently through the corridors of the palace. After going up three flights of stairs and taking eleven turns they stopped in front of a set of large wooden doors. The woman knocked gracefully three times and an elderly looking man opened the door. From the lack of color on his shoulder Aren guessed he was a servant too.
When they passed through they were led through another corridor that, unlike the rest of the palace, was made of plain ivory stone. Only a few smaller tapestries hung from the walls and the carpet on the ground was more rough and less auspicious. A few guards stood in front of another set of wooden doors and the elderly man knocked on it as well.
“Enter,” a deep voice ushered them in.
On the other side Aren found a simple room with a wooden desk and a stack of sitting cushions next to a large but simple low table. Crina and Marie sat on the floor opposite a middle aged man, a shorter crimson cape hanging from his shoulders. Now that Aren’s eyes were not swimming, he could see a quiet kind of strength in the man’s posture, despite gray streaks in his auburn hair and wrinkles under his green eyes.
“I welcome the saviours of the Luminous One to my personal quarters,” the man’s voice boomed deeply, full of vitality. “Please sit.”
“Thank you, Lord Bar,” Aren said, slightly uncertain if that was the correct form of address, but no one corrected him. He took two of the cushions, passed one to Mar’tei, and sat next to Crina, then thought it might have been better to sit at a distance, but it was already too late.
“It’s an honor,” Mar’tei said as she sat down. “Although I personally did not do much.”
“You did your part in protecting the Luminous One. No one could ask more of you,” the governor said. “The One Sun’s light brought you where you were needed.”
Then he turned to Aren. “And I must thank you personally, Ren. I heard it was your friend who lent assistance to the Luminous One in slaying the great worm. I was greatly troubled by the decision to abandon villages in its path, but with the Rain Season approaching there was no other choice. The Luminous One even tells me it was your idea to save the warriors from their sin through holy service.”
Aren glanced at the mentioned young woman who smiled at him, he nodded, “It felt like a waste.”
“Oh? Please explain.”
Aren took a second to think through his words before speaking. “Louis and his people were ready to lay down their lives to save others from monsters. Their efforts were desperate and misguided in their plan to divert the worm, especially without an inciter, but in my worldview, people like that deserve a better fate than the noose. Of course, I realize it is a difficult thing to rule, and no man can be allowed to take actions that could endanger everyone.”
“I see,” Governor Bar said without any judgment. “What is an inciter?”
“Ah, it is a quite recent discovery in our academy. It is a method of directing a worm’s attention. It was first discovered through magic but was also adapted to be usable through life enforcement,” Aren started explaining. “It was actually discovered by a young researcher a few years ago. He was studying the reason why worms always end up attacking large settlements. It was found that it is part of the corruption of the dragon’s essence, its hatred for humans causing a slow override of the monster's self-preservation instincts. They were able to combine vitalic and emotive resonance to create a spell that produces a highly dense human-tasting mana or life force, though the practitioner needs to be fifth stage…”
“Mage Ren, this is not a scholarly debate,” Marie interrupted him.
The governor chuckled. “It is alright, Honored Exemplar. You seem passionate about the subject.”
“It can help in preventing losses of life. Although in the long term every worm still needs to be dealt with, so it is really just a delay tactic, but people capable of dealing with such a threat are not always available,” Aren said honestly.
“Would you be willing to share this method? I could share the life enforcement method with other cities and send the magical one to the Dark Pavilion,” the governor asked.
“Your mage prison,” Aren said. He had heard from the few Ayru students who left their lands that it was a place where people who awakened a sense for mana were sent and never left.
It was the exemplar who responded. “It is not a prison. Only willing people go there, those who wish to respect the words of the Prophet-Kings. Those who wish for a normal life can still wear the bands for the rest of their lives in cities or leave for other countries.”
“I see,” Aren said, not wanting to argue over definitions. “I will write down the methods and give them to you, Governor Bar. I expect it would have trickled here soon enough anyway, as it has been widely spread in our lands.”
“Thank you, Ren,” the man smiled. Still, he noticed something in Aren’s eyes and asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No well, I heard you are a deeply religious man, so I expected to be scoffed at, not thanked,” Aren answered.
Marie closed her eyes in exasperation but the man only smiled.
“Our religion does not teach that magic itself is evil,” the man said with reverence and measured calm. “The sacred decree is clear: ‘Thou shalt not wield magic in the haunts where life flows and breathes.’ Our society’s distrust of mages, and their arts, arises from our history. Without debating who ignited the first war between our nations, war never begets love. And even setting wars aside, the devastation and the hundreds of thousands of lives lost at the hands of the deathless Xardis alone hardened our view of magic.”
Aren ended up sitting in silence, having no counterargument. He had thought the hatred of magic ridiculous, but he had to admit that many in his own country felt negatively toward the Sands for no reason other than their past. Still, the ban on magic in cities probably did not help the outlook on magic once it was used against them.
“That is why your rescue of the Luminous One is such an auspicious sign,” the man said. “Perhaps now we can begin transforming that hatred into something better, so long as you abide by the laws of our lands.”
“And what of emergencies?” Aren asked.
“I was already informed of your use of magic on that dreadful night,” the governor said, his smile fading. “It is a shame, but you are a foreigner, and that transgression can be forgiven, as the Exemplar has done in the face of even greater sins committed by our own people. To think someone would dare attack the Luminous One… Do they not fear the Year of Darkness? The abandonment of our God?”
“Year of Darkness?” Mar’tei muttered under her breath.
“It is a tale mentioned only in the oldest passages,” the man said solemnly. “Shortly after the Sun delivered us from the void, the first Luminous One was chosen. With her came the foretelling, should she fail to reach the veil, the darkness would rage for a full year, consuming many. Those spared would not emerge untouched, they would be hollowed, twisted by its touch.”
Noticing the looks exchanged by Crina and the two adventurers, Marie added, “It has never come to pass before, yet these are indeed the words spoken by the first Prophet-King. Those of weak faith may doubt the passage, taking it not as literal truth but as allegory.”
“That’s… we have something similar in our own tales,” Mar’tei said, and all heads turned to him. “Apologies for interrupting. It is told that after the great clouds of darkness and the rains of fire and stone, our ancestors swore that should the longest of nights ever return, we would march south and fight alongside our distant brethren.”
“Truly?” the governor said. “It is a pity that most of your traditions are passed down orally. I have long taken pleasure in studying other cultures. Alas, the Church of Power is rather simplistic for my tastes, and the morbid sacrifices of the Vapunga Union gods strike me as too dark. Texts from Akz’en or Therionia are likewise difficult to obtain.”
“I see your taste has not changed, Governor,” the exemplar stated.
“,” the governor quoted with a smile. “By learning the ways of others, I come to understand more clearly why the One Sun is my only true faith.”
Then he brightened. “But let us not speak any longer of those dark topics. We should celebrate. Once the official greeting of the Luminous One is done, I will proclaim the start of a month long Sunlit Festival to honor her achievement in defeating the vile creature and acquiring a new core for our country. That should be enough time for the Prophet-King delegation to come and retrieve it.”
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Governor,” the exemplar started, “we cannot stop the journey for so long. Not only would it be offensive to other cities that await the Luminous One coming, we would give more time to the heretics to prepare.”
“Ah, you are right, of course, Holy Exemplar,” the man admitted. “A week I implore you, you deserve that and more.”
“That is acceptable,” Marie stated. “We need to prepare for the audience now, but I would like to discuss the possibility of some of your warriors accompanying us tomorrow.”
“Of course, Honored Exemplar,” the governor nodded and stood up after they did.
Aren noticed that the man was taller than him by a head and had telltale signs of muscles enhanced by life enforcement. This meant that the man could be even older than his appearance suggested, since from the third stage visible aging slowed significantly, although it did not extend life span by much until the sixth stage.
The man bowed as he led out Marie and Crina, and he smiled at the two mages when they passed by him. Surprisingly, Marie did not give him any glares as they were escorted by servants to the temple, who also returned their shoes. Still, she prevented Crina from chattering in public, and the walk proceeded in silence.
“Do you have clothes to change into, something presentable?” the exemplar asked.
“I have a white-and-blue Teolian summer suit,” Aren said, remembering that he had stored it in his bag among his change of clothes.
“That is… well, whatever you wear there will be critique, as long as it is tidy.” Marie sounded defeated, then turned to Mar’tei.
Mar’tei thought for a bit. “I have a ceremonial dress somewhere at the bottom of my pack. If I detach the fur it will not be that hot in it.”
“Maybe its exotic nature will redirect some attention from your band,” she said.
“Oh, do you need any help?” Crina asked, stepping forward. “I am good with thread and needle, and I want to see your homeland style.”
Mar’tei looked a little stunned. “I would not mind an experienced hand. I’m just okay at it. If that is okay?”
The exemplar shrugged. “You can come to the Luminous One’s quarters with it.” Despite the detached words, her voice softened a little.
Aren separated from the group and was led to a larger room with multiple beds. Louis, along with a few people, was sitting around, staying quiet, only turning his head for a while before resuming silent milling. The mage found his pack in a pile of other similar bags and, after fishing it out, started looking for his clothes.
The suit he wore was made of sleek white silk, consisting of long pants that reached his ankles and a jacket that hugged his body perfectly. The jacket closed over his chest, fastened with four buttons arranged diagonally across the right side, reaching toward the center of his waist. A deep blue embroidery, that resonated with the color of his once-violet eyes, traced like vines from his waist around the front and back, meeting at his heart in the emblem of his home duchy, a dragon’s six-chambered heart pierced by a sword.
He had ordered the clothes back when he first became an honorary noble. Since then, they had become more of a keepsake, as he usually wore his academy robes to the public ceremonies he couldn’t avoid. But when he put them on, they still fit well, perhaps a bit tight, though it didn’t show. He didn’t have a mirror, yet he was confident that the white complemented his dark hair and eyes. He did not pay attention to his shoes, only dusting them off, as he would need to take them off anyway.
He looked at Louis, who sat there watching him, still in his guard gear. “Are you not attending the ceremony?”
“We?” the man asked rhetorically, with a sad smile. “It would do no good for us to attend after our disobedience. That would be like spitting in the governor’s face. We discussed it with the Holy Exemplar, and she agreed to assign us to the perimeter guard.”
“I see,” Aren nodded. “I guess that makes sense. At least you will get to enjoy the festivities, right?”
“It would be rude not to celebrate the success of the Luminous One,” Louis smiled. “Don’t worry, those audiences are usually quite dull. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“I won’t,” Aren smiled back.
“We will need to discuss tonight your date plan for the festival,” Louis said, his honest expression showcasing his resolve to see this through. “There are many musts for young couples, like dancing under sunbeams, flower prayers performed by priests, and dusk plays.”
“Right…” Aren felt something twist inside at more talks of romance. “I will go. I’m sure we will depart for the audience soon.”
“Make sure to compliment Mar’tei’s outfit!” Louis shouted as he closed the door behind him.
Aren ended up waiting in an empty viewing balcony above the temple’s large chamber, where they were supposed to gather. Still, he welcomed the silence compared to more advice on his love life. He put his weight on the railing overlooking the searing orb that had rendered him unconscious and sighed loudly.
He could not help but feel the creeping inadequacy climb back through his stomach. Archmage fainting because of a little heat, archmage getting rejected and throwing a tantrum, getting lost in another country. He had felt a little better after killing the dragon-class worm, but that now seemed far away. He hoped he would at least have something to show for all of this in the end.
Aren waited for around thirty minutes in silence, mentally sorting through the experiments he could perform safely on the band to figure out how it worked. When he heard someone walking in his direction, he closed his eyes to steady himself with the mental exercises he had once practiced for casting, quickly imagining in detail formations for creating algebraic graphs with light.
He turned to see Mar’tei walking toward him, barefoot. Her dark hair was braided and woven together down her back, silver chains and dangling blue tear-shaped gems entwined in the upper braids to form a circlet-like crown. Around her neck hung a necklace of polished white wood etched with animal symbols. At the center, a bear and a boar sat side by side, flanked by a fox, an owl, a wolf, and a snake.
Her dark green, sleeveless one-piece dress hugged her chest and waist, then flared at the bottom in folded wave-like layers that added depth and volume. Silver threads, embroidered in the shapes of beasts, traced the edges, lending the garment a ceremonial air. Draped over her shoulders was long, sheer beige fabric, a lighter substitute for the fur she would wear in her homeland, falling to her wrists, where bracelets of polished bone encircled her arms, the black band blending in with the white of the organic material.
Aren opened his mouth to compliment her, then remembered Louis’s words and grimaced slightly.
“Something wrong?” she asked, glancing at herself. “I said the lack of sleeves was too much, but she insisted.”
“No, no,” Aren hurriedly denied. “You look good. Just… remembered Louis’ unsolicited advice. It fits you well, really. You wouldn’t look out of place in the king's court.”
“Thanks,” she smiled cheerfully. “I still don’t know how I feel about the sleeves, but it is cooler this way. You look good too, looks sharp. Is that what you wear in Vo’Teol? The peak of fashion for men back home is clean fur mantles and leather.”
“Well, I mostly wear my mage robes, but the one set I had with me is in tatters, and the rest are at the academy,” Aren said. “And I don’t think people here would appreciate them very much.”
Mar’tei chuckled. “Probably not.”
Then Crina and Marie joined them, wearing their ceremonial attires. Donnavan and the other fifth-stage warrior, whose name Aren still didn’t know, followed behind them in clean white clothes that looked simple but well made.
“Where is the rest of your party, mage Mar’tei?” the exemplar asked.
Mar’tei looked at her for a second, then the smile on her face disappeared. “Those idiots were supposed to be back by now.”
