Chapter 155: Little Plots

Chapter 155: Little Plots

/There are many events I consider tragic in my life, but perhaps the hardest one to stomach was the breaking of Trinitarum, the greatest Mages' Tower of all time.

I am old now. I know much about magic that people will never find even when they dedicate their life to its study. I have cast spells that others would consider myths, and I have created wonders that wouldn't be misplaced in the times when divines still walked the earth. Despite that, the spell that brought the tower down was as much a work of art as it was cruel.

There's a reason it marks the end of a book, after all. The old wizards who tampered with things far beyond what they should tore a hole in reality, a wound which has not yet healed, and may never do so.

Sometimes, it makes me think whether we should truly have access to the power we do. Whether magic is good for this world at all. I try to remind myself of all the people it has helped, how it transformed my own life, and yet, I arrive back there. Seeing the tower crumble before my inner eye.

Thousands of disciples, torn into the folds between realities, no bodies to be recovered. The stones that made up the tower being twisted and strewn across infinity, reduced to less than dust. I imagine how the mana made me feel that day. I could hear the very essence of my power scream and die.

That is something I believe no single person should have access to, and that is why I believe that magic must be taught safely. A rogue mage can so easily destroy things, while it takes dedication and practice to create./

"Irresponsible Magic" by Inyraxa Aruget, part of "The ramblings of an old magician".

- - - - - -

Zagan stood, looking at a waterfall.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Midas asked her, running his hand through the stream, leaving an imprint of gold upon the bed of the river that sprouted from the phenomenon.

The ruler of a demon city blinked. In truth, on Arterus, there were few bodies of water. Demons hardly needed sustenance, most living off mana or stamina or some other thing they found. A couple ate rocks, or some wildlife, but few really needed to drink.

"It's gorgeous," she murmured, listening to the water flow.

"Makes you think about what art is," Midas said.

Zagan paused at it. That… was true. She wasn't allowed to witness art, not hear it, not see it, not even hear about a specific piece. It had left her days dull and boring. Yet, somehow, this wasn't art?

To her, art had always been in beauty. Anything that was sufficiently beautiful was art. Faces could be art, music could be art, even weapons could be pieces of art. Despite that, this strange, chaotic crashing that still gave off such a wonderful noise, wasn't?

"It's about intent," Midas added to her thoughts. "No one wanted to create this. It just happened, naturally. No hands shaped this rock, no single mind poured their heart into it. It's just… there." He smiled, running a finger along the rock, leaving a small streak of gold behind.

"Intent, huh," Zagan muttered, losing herself in the flow of the water. If there was no intent behind this, had no one shaped it? What about the gods? Or Chronagen itself? Did neither of those have a will? Or was this area just neglected?

Her heart thumped brightly in her chest. So many questions that made her curious. Beautiful things truly did get her heart pumping. She smiled. "So, Midas. There are… more things like this?"

"Many more," he assured her. "Each of them unique as well."

"I believe I may wish to see a bit more of this world, then."

Midas smiled. "Well, I have a few places in mind…"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Let me just… watch this a bit longer." Then, the four armed demon sat down on a wet rock, and simply enjoyed watching the water fall. Damoy truly was a beautiful place. What more was there to see?

Dimly, in the back of her mind, she thought Midas might be taking her along on this journey as part of a scheme. But she didn't mind.

The water was too peaceful to care.

- - -

The two of them travelled for quite some time. Sight after sight, wonder after wonder. Sparkling lakes, stretching out until the horizon. Mountain peaks surrounded by thin bits of fog. Sunsets over the shore, forests full of life. All of it was alien to Zagan, and all of it was beautiful.

The queen who had been so frustrated with her situation soon found herself enjoying it. There was still a strange quality to it all. The fact that her contract didn't consider it art meant that deep down, she didn't consider it art.

It made her think. Had her views shifted? Could there be beauty without art? Perhaps that was so. She shook her head, and gave a grumble from both her mouths. Those thoughts mattered little; the moments she was currently experiencing mattered far more.

Slowly, bit by bit, the demon queen and golden once-king travelled the continent. From the west, they headed slowly south. They stopped to see deserts, and swamps, trees that scratched the clouds, and lagoons full of emerald water.

Zagan indulged the feelings of wonder this all gave her. It made her feel as though she was Kurt River, one of her favourite authors, exploring the world in search of beauty. Where he had sought music, she was seeking natural wonders. Or being shown them, rather.

Every stop they made, she learned to like more. To be content. To worry less about consumption.

The queen learned that perhaps there was beauty to be found in waiting for the next experience as well. In cherishing a memory and holding it dear, rather than chasing the next big step, the next wonder. She got messages, occasionally. Letters which found her magically, communication via telepathy, and she turned much of it down.

Hearing it all in her state of mind made Zagan realize just how much scheming she'd been doing. Get those people to visit, exploit these people for a vain picture. So much thinking for a little bit of ink on a canvas. So much effort for a few words on a piece of paper. Did it truly matter that much?

The two of them were circling the continent. From west, down to south, then curving along the coastline to the east, and following it back north. They visited a monastery. By then, the season of her punishment had passed, yet they stayed there. Zagan learned from the monks, how to breathe, how to maintain serenity. Keep one's soul as clear as still waters.

She left feeling rejuvenated. It had been… a few more pages. Her and Midas began heading westwards again, towards the center of Damoy.

The path would lead them through the Nevarzahri, then through the Guardian's Nation. Zagan dreaded the encounter a little, but her resolve was steeled. She would have to apologize to lord Friaminth.

- - - - - -

Mercury took his time dealing with the spies.

His Skills weren't infallible. Sometimes it would take quite some time for him to even notice a mark. Tracing them back was also far from child's play. He'd been doing it on instinct up until then, which had proven effective, but a bit unreliable.

Instead, Mercury now had to meditate, and use ihn'ar on himself as he fell into the dreams, trying to find any changes. Night after night, he would notice nothing off. Then, a small change, a tiny little thread, and he had his target.

Reeling them in without snapping the connection was also hard. Once, for the faintest mark of them all, he had to reinforce it himself, before being able to leave his own little hook. After that, however, drawing the spy into his realm was swift.

One by one by one he found them. Dragged them into his dream realm, and negotiated.

Of course, that didn't mean he let go of the hooks. He only needed a thought to draw them back in. And once he found no new mark for half a page, he decided to call the little meeting he'd promised.

There were only three besides Lic. A lizardperson, a figure that seemed made from fire, and an orc. Tray, Blaze, and Gruk, as he'd learned.

With a tug from his mind, all three of them were back in his dream realm.

'Hello all,' Mercury's voice echoed in their heads. 'I believe I've now found each of the spies Berthorn set onto me. Which is you three and Lic.'

Their faces sunk, hope slowly draining. Mercury was reasonably sure he'd found everyone at least, given that <Seeker Of Secrets> and <Intuition > hummed with agreement.

'Now, that doesn't mean any of you get hurt. In fact, I really wanna make your job quite a bit safer. Has Berhtorn caught onto any of your fake reports yet?'

All three shook their heads.

'Good. Very good, even. See, Zyl and I are going to leave here soon. By soon, I mean tomorrow. And you guys are going to cover for us." He smiled a big, toothy grin.

'Now, of course I can't exactly force you to do this. But I can promise you that if I come back and there's something wrong with Unbar, you'll pay. This mark works as much to track you as it does to drag you in here. Spill even a word of this to Berthorn, and regret it.'

For emphasis, he sent along a small bit of what it had been like having one of the stalkers kill him in the starving dream. It caused three distinct flinches.

'So. Best for us all if you just keep lying to your pretty crappy previous employer.'

They nodded.

'Right, one more thing,' Mercury added. 'In case anyone comes to visit, do any of you have a disguise Skill?'

Tray raised their hand.

'Perfect. You'll be Zyl's body double,' Mercury declared brightly.

Tray could feel a cold shiver down their spine.

- - -

By then, it had been five pages since Mercury's return from the eclipse. It was the last page of winter, and things were slowly warming up. Luckily, <Adaptable > kept Mercury at a comfortable temperature no matter what.

Zyl and him needed to travel. But Zyl was being watched by probably a dozen more spies than Mercury was. So, somehow, he needed to swap Tray with his lovely boyfriend so that the two of them could make their escape.

Now, of course, swapping them wouldn't be very hard, unless the spies had marks on Zyl. Which they did not. Because the very nature of his mana somehow burnt them. Mercury more than triple checked to be sure; whenever he'd used ihn'ar on himself, he'd also checked Zyl. Could never be too careful.

To exchange him and Tray, it was quite simple. Mercury asked the dragon on a date to a very specific place that had a bunch of anti-scrying wards pre-prepped. They went in, and Mercury came back out with Tray, while Zyl drank an invisibility potion that Leon had acquired for them.

Thus, the switcheroo had been completed.

Only a few days after, Mercury said his goodbyes, leaving the city. Zyl, being undercover, also made his way out. The mansion was left in Leon's capable hands. With him there, Maclroy hopefully wouldn't ruin anything. Somehow, Zyl was not worried about any of the spies in the slightest.

Another day later, the two were able to hop onto a carriage that randomly left the city in disguise. Mercury's fur had been tinted completely white, making him look like an ordinary housecat, and Zyl mildly changed his face, stature, and dyed his hair black, simply looking like a pompous noble.

Where were they even headed? Well.

Mercury decided that maybe, if Berthorn wanted him watched so bad, the fucker could lay his own eyes on the cat.

He had about another five or so pages before meeting the others in Stormbraver. Plenty of time to cause some havoc. Especially with some asshat trying to control him.

Walking away from Nemo had been fine. He'd confront the bishop again once he returned to Stormbraver. But this was different entirely.

Spies? Seriously?

Coming from the 21st century, Mercury knew more than his fair share about privacy concerns, and he had absolutely no interest in being stalked by some weirdo family member of his boyfriend. So, it was time to put a stop to it.

The fact that he got to spend multiple days of riding a carriage sleeping on Zyl's lap was only a small part of his motivation.

Luckily, the journey went by without any major incident. Somehow, apparently, Tray was keeping up the illusion of actually being Zyl. Mainly by lying in bed and "recovering". Zyl himself already felt a lot better, but wasn't quite in top shape yet. He was still getting better with each day though.

They had been going northwest from Unbar, heading toward where the dragons lived. It was the tallest mountain range on Damoy. Naturally, that was so that the dragons could look down on everyone else.

Mercury would show them what to look down on.

- - - - - -

Berthorn felt like he would be making Anoth proud.

The lady of webs had also been his favourite among the divines. Stories of plots and planning and deception suited him much better than a straightforward approach.

Even now, when he was in the middle stages of a coup, he was behaving more like a spider than a dragon. He had spies, informants, and little saboteurs in every corner. Just today, one of his workers had delivered inferior tea leaves in the name of some clan to another one, sparking a grudge over food poisoning.

Dozens upon dozens of little things.

He smiled. Slowly, bit by bit, he was tearing the unity of the dragon clan apart. Their combined target had disappeared, and their smiths were busy forging the spark into a worthy item. Up until now, the family to get the item had been certain, but recently, more and more clans were vying for it.

Berthorn revelled in that. The greed of dragons was often so easily sparked. They had basically been a powderkeg. Well, no, more like a dozen powderkegs stacked atop each other.

Now, he had allies, and was slowly depriving them from his family. His sister seemed to revel in the chaos as much as he did. She challenged scion after scion and wiped the floor with them. If she weren't so unpredictable, he might have even considered her for an ally.

His father was lethargic. Too lazy to do anything about things. Perhaps he would act once his pillows were pulled out under him. But that was why Berthorn had people watching him anyway.

No, the greatest obstacle was currently his mother. The woman was greedy for power, and had been greedy for Zyl's spark as well. She had ordered him to get it, and now wanted to claim the spoils for herself. Already she was the matriarch of one of the greatest dragon clans this world had ever seen, and despite that, it was never enough.

Nothing would ever be enough for her, and that meant she needed to be removed. One day, she would come after Berthorn too, he was sure of that. After all, it was in her nature to take and take and take.

He took a deep breath, centering himself. Those thoughts were taking it a bit too far.

Slowly, he shut the window he'd been leaning out of and went to prepare himself. There were a few events he needed to attend, after all. Reports to receive as well. Perhaps the spies he'd set onto the beast his brother fraternized with had more news? The creature had simply decided to leave, and the spies had been tracking it just… living in a forest. In the middle of nowhere.

Who did that? It was beyond suspicious, especially after one of the spies had been compromised. The others seemed safe, but something nagged at him, telling him that things were wrong.

It was weird. And it wasn't the first time he'd felt this nagging sensation in relation to the mopaaw. Somehow, the creature seemed to defy his expectations commonly.

The thought brought a scowl to his face. He was dedicating too many resources to it already. Compromising his network further was not an option. Sending additional people was not an option. He would, despite his own kindest wishes, need to wait and see.

At the very least he knew he would not hesitate to crush the creature if it messed up his plans once more.

In the meantime, however, other things demanded his attention.

Just in time, there was a knock on his door. He had finished up his hair just when the sound reached his ear, the oily green strands tucked behind his ears.

"Come in," he called, buttoning up his jacket.

The person who entered was a woman with snow white hair, except for frosty blue tips. Her skin was immaculate despite her advanced age, and her dress a pristine ivory, matching that of her face. If he didn't know better, he would've thought he was looking at a ghost.

"Lady Revershire, a pleasure," he said, giving a small bow.

She replied with the tiniest curtsy she could manage. "Master Berthorn."

"I see that you have made it here despite your previous grievances?" he asked, politely reaching out a hand, which she took. The two began striding down the hallway together.

"What can I say? The proposal on the wineries seemed too attractive to decline. Matters of my family must still come first," she replied, her thin lips curling into a thinner smile.

"Indeed, I do like to be generous to my allies." Berthorn's smile was a little wider as he spoke. "And the favour I request is quite simple, is it not?"

"To spread gossip, yes," the lady scoffed. "It is something my daughter is quite capable of. After the next tea party hosted at our estate, all scions will have heard of the failings of the old grimmerling family."

"Good, good." Berthorn's smile grew wider than that of a human should. "I will see that the deeds are delivered safely to your estate."

"The summer one, if it pleases you."

"Naturally." He took his hand out of hers gracefully as they stepped through the doors into the ballroom. It was his family's turn to host, and he had gotten into a position where the celebrations would be held in his ballroom. Naturally, that meant most of the servants were his.

Of course, if there was trouble, he might be affected. It made him paranoid, and as the announcer spoke his name and he bowed, his eyes drifted over everyone present. Within moments, he had marked out enemies, and scouted potential allies to further bonds with. This was all still just the steps leading up to everything.

Soon it would be time for the dragons to fall, and for a new lord to take his rightful place.

Once everyone feared him, he would no longer need to fear anyone.