Chapter Four Hundred And Thirty Five – 435
Felix stalked the halls, followed close by a grumbling Pit. "Yes, we'll get some food in a second," he muttered at the Chimera. "We have to do this first, alright?"
"Fine," Pit said, sounding anything but.
"I saw you, Pit. You ate two of those Hatchlings."
Somehow, despite having a beak, Pit managed to pout. "They tasted like sour feet."
Felix let slip a soft chuckle, but didn't stop his march. The opulent halls of the grandmaster's mansion oozed by, his power walk more akin to a steady jog thanks to his beefed up Agility. His Mind, however, was turning over the things Karys had said a few minutes prior.
His Stronghold had grown. The Offensive rating had risen from a measly 5% to a whopping 52%, and his Defensive rating from 40% to 61%, thanks in large part to the influx of warriors. Almost two thirds of the new residents joined the ranks of his Legion, and their training had been non-stop thanks to Rory and a few other former Guild trainers. Rory had come to visit a while, but according to Karys the Dwarf had chosen to stay on and help whip the Legion into shape. Felix had grinned at thathe remembered all too well the brutal methods that Rory employedif they listened, the Legion was almost guaranteed a substantial increase in ability.
The other facet of that increase in offense were the ballistas that Atar and Alister had been working on before they left. Hector and the apprentices had been able to make several prototypes of the inscribed siege weaponry, each one designed to absorb ambient Mana and throw it back as bolts of force. As it stood, the things were absolutely massive, requiring a wagon and crane to move them about, and their operation wasn't so smooth either. Large stores of Mana were necessary to fire them, as the siphon arrays were entirely too limited for reasons Felix didn't understand. If they returned, Atar and Alister could look into them, and a great many other issues.
At Felix's order, Karys was getting people ready for war. Neither of them believed High Justiciar Haim had been lying when he'd told Felix of the Hierocracy's plans; why would he? The man had been confident in his success at the time, and frankly it was what they had all been expecting since the System had declared Felix as Autarch. Karys was meeting later with the heads of the various Factions to mobilize their forces out of the Stronghold and back toward Haarwatch within the week. Felix hadn't wished to wait, but he doubted resolving the issues in Ahkestria and a journey back to the Shadowgate would be done any sooner.
To that end, Felix's swift movement through the halls came to a sudden halt as he beheld a tall, wooden door layered with a ludicrous amount of Mana crystals. The type varied wildly, forming a mosaic from a certain distance that Felix could appreciate: a figure stood atop a rock, holding aloft a bundle that was clearly a crown, scepter, and orb while waves crashed at their feet. Standing before the door were seven Yttin, all of them around six feet in height and muscled like swimmers beneath their chitinous armor. The armor in question was ridged and spiked in places, covering their chests, arms, legs, and head with an imposing, crustacean look. They varied in hue, from greenish blue to blueish purple generally, though one of them had a deeper reddish hue, like a lobster. The crab-like legs on their back, also covered in segmented chitin, hung loose against their own shoulders like a curled up spider, until they spotted Felix. Then they flared outward in alarm.
"Halt, traveller. You encroach upon..." one of the older Yttin said, before his mouth dropped open in shock. "Lord Autarch. I apologize. I did not see you"
Felix waved off the man's words, just as Pit prowled from behind. "I was moving kinda fast around the bend. I sneak up on people all the time. Is your shaman available? I would like to speak with him."
"For you, Autarch, he is always available," the Yttin said. The other guards pivoted smoothly, and the crystal-laden door opened to reveal a sumptuous apartment filled with, of all things, plants. "Please, enter. Shaman Klzix is just beyond the dream pool."
"Uh, thanks," Felix said, and walked past the Yttin. He stood a good half foot over the tallest of them, which was a weird experience he hadn't grown used to yet. "C'mon, Pit."
His Companion followed, giving the Yttin a cheerful chirp of greeting. A warmth spread among the guards' Spirits as they passed, a clear fondness for the Chimera, and then the doors closed. A chill wind breezed across Felix's shoulders, but he shrugged it off. "Made friends while I was asleep?"
"They have a nice boat," Pit chirruped. His tufted hears twitched. "Why is there a pond in here?"
Somewhere along the line, the tiled flooring had turned to soft, slightly glowing moss. The walls were lined with more Mana crystals, most of them a soft green-gold, and which grew along the geometrical architecture of a large, domed chamber. Above them a pale blue crystal hung, festooned with growing vines and flowers, swaying in a warm breeze that smelled of honeysuckle and lilac. They stopped, booted feet and furred paws at the edge of a softly babbling stream that extended from one of the ornate walls and down into the center of the chamber, where it formed a pool at least thirty feet wide.
"Ah, be welcome, Lord Autarch. Be welcome to the dream pool." A Yttin with a handsome face and a too-wide smile greeted them from across the pond, his soft body not covered in armor but loose, flowing cloth.
"Klzix. You look different," Felix said, and then gestured to the greenery all around them. "What is all this?"
"The usurpers to the Cerulean Throne destroyed much. Very little of our ancient city remains, and what little does is hidden in mansions and behind walls and tiny armies." The shaman ran a finger through the pool and the water clung to him like glowing paint before evaporating. "This is something old, something that I believe the Grandmaster of the Desert's Fire chose to construct his home upon."
"Something that once belonged to the Yttin," Felix said, grasping at a truth that danced around his recent interactions with the transformed people. Things the shaman had mentioned to him a long time ago, in the sands. "You used to rule Ahkestria, didn't you?"
Klzix chuckled. "We did, when the tides were high and the waves at their fiercest. The crystalline groves and fecund jungle like a green blessing beneath the bluest of skies. All of it under the reign of our kings and queens."
"Until you were cursed," Felix added. He considered using Rime Shaping to form a bridge across the pool, but that felt rude. Sacrilegious, almost.
"Until we cursed ourselves," the shaman corrected him.
"What? Why?" Pit asked.
"Explain this curse to me," Felix asked, trying to keep his tone respectful. "I don't really understand what happened to your people. Your messenger with the Platinum Chest mentioned some of it."
"Ah yes. And did the Chest prove worthwhile? It is the least we could do for our Savior." Klzix raised a hand, forestalling Felix's objections. "It is clear the name causes you some distress, but it is what you are, Felix Nevarre."
"The contents of the Chest don't feel like they are mine, Klzix. If your people were rulers of Ahkestria, then it seems they belong to the Yttin." Felix pulled the crown from the pouch at his waist, and it glimmered in the soft light from above.
"The Crown," Klzix sighed, before shaking his head. "Let me tell you the tale then, Felix Nevarre. Decide then how you wish to proceed." He shifted himself and ran his fingers through the luminous pool again. "What do you know of the godlings of the Realm?"
"Godlings. You mean Urges?" Felix asked.
"Yes. Long have they dwelled among the Continent, many of them intangible spirits, feeding off of us but causing no ill effects. Even now, nascent Urges walk the world, growing and changing with every passing moment. They are as sure as the dew upon the Weavings, clinging to the warp and weft of the Realms no matter how it changes shape." One of the shaman's appendages, clad in white wrappings, reached out and drew a glowing line atop the water. "They are...travellers, between Realms. The Mind of the gods give them a spark of life while the Minds of mortals give them shape. Long before the Highest Flame was That Which Burns, it was an idea, a mote of significance in the endless dark. Then it found followers, mortals that eased it from Thought to Action, from Mind to Body. They fed it, kept it stoked through the dark."
"And when it ran out of fuel, it demanded sacrifices," Felix growled, his lip curling at the thought of it. "Disgusting."
"I wholeheartedly agree. Yet to them they are simply acting as their natures dictate. Some are more heavily influenced by their source than others, though only a few are able to garner strength from the merest mention of their purpose. Pit told me of Urges that died at your hand, horrors that fed upon the worst inclinations among mortals, inclinations that no doubt kept the Urges alive for Ages. Godlings are ideas given shape, and ideas are so very hard to destroy." Klzix tilted his head, and tawny hair cascaded across his face. It did not obscure his glowing copper eyes however. "Until they met you. A man that is more than a man. A Devourer."
"He said that, huh?" Felix frowned at his Companion, who just looked back at him with wide golden eyes and a happy expression, as if waiting for praise. Felix could only roll his eyes. So much for secrets. "What's your point?"
Klzix's other appendages reached out, each one describing a glowing line atop the pool's surface. Mana swirled in Felix's senses, flowing toward the water and pulling the bright lines deep within it. In moments, the water lightened, until Felix swore he saw shapes flickering beneath. "It was not the first Godling to lay a stake upon this Territory. Far from it. Long ago, before my grandfather's grandfather was anything more than a whisper of lineage, there was a massing of such creatures." The flickering increased, now furious as if describing the vast shapes of creatures Felix couldn't begin to identify. "A battle that became a war, between the Withered and the Godlings' dark leader. The Treacherous One, a creature of secrets and hidden depths."
The light darkened at the center, as if the dream pool had become a window into a dark, smoke-filled tunnel. Felix almost felt like he'd fall in if he stared too long...and yet he couldn't pull away. "The Withered? You mean the Primordial of Withered Dust?"
Klzix nodded. "Yes. In the most ancient of our stories, the Withered was our protector against the predators of the depths. The Treacherous One suborned the glorious leviathans, turning them against the Withered, taking their name and steeping the waters in darkest ichor." The water fully darkened, flooded with black blood...before it cleared to show a strange, long shape twisted upon itself. A sudden golden crown stitched itself atop the twisted mass, filling the waters with a sickly radiance. "The Leviathan Urge was graced with a bounty from the heavens, and with it the Treacherous One confused us, convinced us that the Withered was our enemy. We...struck down the Ancient One, smote it with magic and steel and the gifts of our allies. It was severed and entombed. Trapped for all eternity."
Images of wave and wind spiked through the waters, followed by rupturing earth and descending lattices of crystals. A vast, amorphous shape was trapped, thrust through with a flash of bronze, and sunk away into the abyss.
"Too late, we found out the lie. The Leviathan was poised to end us all, to entrap all of our people within its vastness, to hold us as it holds so much else." Klzix's voice broke, and a deep grief welled up from his Spirit. "We should have died then, wiped from the Continent as surely as if we'd been Lost. Yet the Withered...it managed to drain its own significance and power upon one last move."
"Your curse," Felix said, and Pit chirruped at his side.
"Yes. The sea itself drained away, slaying the leviathans of the depths, and the Treacherous One fled before it's unrestrained might. The Queen made a choice to take the curse upon herself. The royal family joined her, and soon all of our people stood as one, to stop the calamity from unfolding. It worked. The curse was stopped, spreading no further than the borders of our Territory...and in return, cursing our people to a life of the wandering wretch. Reducing us, in Mind and Body, so that we could not even struggle against it.
"All we had to hope for, was the Quest."
"Right." Felix shook himself from the vision in the pool. Already the water was darkening again, the illusion of its tale fading. "The Quest. You received that after?"
"We did. The Quest was passed down among the shamanic line, passing from eldest to youngest in an unbroken tradition. Each year we sought our penance in the sands, each year attempting to keep our people alive long enough to see the curse broken. There was no sign, however, until the two of you arrived."
"Were the gods involved?" Felix asked. The golden crown and the light it radiated was awfully familiar to him.
"Yes. The Withered and the Treacherous One. Their clash is what"
"No, no. The Divine gods, not Primordials and Urges. Like Noctis and Siva and all of them?" With each successive name, Felix watched understanding flit away from the shaman's face. "Do you not know of those gods?"
"We do, but they are not our gods. They were not present at the creation of the Yttin, nor the leviathans that sustained our way of life for Ages beyond memory. Those came from the Ancient One. From the Primordials."
That was new. Felix hadn't heard of anyone worshiping the Primordials before, mostly because everyone kept insisting they were extinct. "Okay, but the golden crown. You said it was a bounty from the heavens. From the Divine?"
"Perhaps. It is an old story, and I have recited it, enacted it, as it was taught to me many decades ago." The shaman shrugged and stood from the pool with an effortless grace. His body was far more lithe than the bulky guards. A priest, not a warrior. "The truth of a story lies not in its facts, but in its essence. It's Spirit. And the Spirit can hold far more than the Mind or Body."
Felix tried and failed to keep the scoff from escaping his mouth. "The spirit of a story isn't going to help me solve the issues in front of me, Klzix. And this still doesn't answer why you would give up these artifacts." He pulled free the scepter and orb to join the crown in his hands. Felix could literally feel them buzzing with power, each one so charged up it was a wonder he wasn't electrocuted.
"We do not deserve Authority, Felix Nevarre. We who failed the Withered, who failed ourselves, cannot hold the crown again. Will not." The shaman smoothed his robes, each of his back appendages tugging and draping cloth. "This is a stance held by all of the Yttin. Bred into our hearts by an Age of desolation and sacrifice. We have witnessed the end of our old world." He bowed to the tenku, almost folding in half. "We thank you, Savior and Beast alike, for what you have done in ending this curse. In returning the sea and our treasured Bodies to us. You have ended our old world, blackening the skies and letting the sands flow as blood. We are free of our shackles...and would pledge ourselves to you once more, Autarch."
You Have Lost A Faction!
The Yttin (Beastsworn) Have Abandoned Your Fledgling Nation!
-25% To All Positive Relations With Yttin!
Congratulations, Autarch!
You Have Recruited A Faction!
The Yttin (Beastsworn) Have Joined Your Fledgling Nation!
+50% To All Positive Relations With Yttin!
"Let us know what you wish us to do," Klzix said from his deep bow. "You have only to ask, and the Yttin shall obey."
"Uhm, alright," Felix managed, unsure of what else to say. "But servitude isn't what I had in mind." He grasped his hands tight around the artifacts, unsure whether to clench them in anger or throw them up in disbelief.
Klzix straightened, more than a little hesitantly. "Servitude is all I fear we have to offer, Lord Autarch. We are capable warriors, sailors, and craftsmen. We are nimble and strong, and we offer all of that to you."
Felix looked around the chamber, at a bit of a loss. "Right. I'm glad you've decided to follow me, because that makes this next part far easier. I need a Chancellor."
Klzix lifted his arms and backed up a single step. His face was stricken. "My Lord, we are not worthy of rule. I cannot"
"Worthy? That's stupid. You didn't do anything," Felix said, and this time he did activate his Rime Shaping. The surface of the pool flash froze, and Felix trod across it with crunchy steps. "Your ancient ancestors made some bad calls, and everyone paid the price. That's not on you." He reached out and placed a hand on the cringing shaman's shoulder. "Listen. I don't need you to rule, but Ahkestria is your ancestral home. I would see that its native people hold the reigns while I'm not here."
Klzix couldn't quite meet Felix's eyes. "We have erred in the past, my Lord. Why would we not err in the future?"
Felix shrugged. "People fuck up. I do it all the time. That's how you learn to be better, right? I've heard a lot about what the Yttin once were," Felix said, staring until Klzix met his eyes. Copper and blue shone in the dark. "But tell me, who do you wish the Yttin to be?"
The shaman blinked and opened his mouth. "I"
A vile, burning surge flashed across his senses, and Felix snapped his hand out instinctively. His scaled fingers closed around a sudden, deadly projectile. A blade, hissing with poison Mana...stopped mere inches from the shaman's neck.
"Killer!" Pit let out a ear-piercing shriek. "Sworn!"
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