Unbound - Chapter 618

“Silas Veil. Your Grace Vessilia Dayne. I am honored to host the daughter of the Howling Hurricane, but I must admit a certain fondness for you, Mr. Veil. The Titanslayer himself.”

The Hinterlord Kragan Red Shield lounged on his throne. Up close, the man wasn’t as portly as Felix had thought. His golden-plated armor was ill-fitting around the neck and belly, as if he’d lost weight fairly rapidly and his armorer hadn’t had time to make adjustments. His beard was splayed over his chest, hiding most of his weight loss beneath its volume of braids, gold fasteners, and gems. A diamond-studded goblet of win dangled from his hand.

“Titanslayer?” Felix asked, trading a look with Vess. “You think she’s dead?”

“I have heard the reports of your fight. If she has survived your powerful attack, then she would be a fool to return. And if she does, then I have the Titanslayer here to fend her off, aye?”

Felix inclined his head, but said nothing.

Kragan set his goblet into the hands of a waiting servant and leaned forward. “I also hear that you originally came to this Hold in order to establish trade with my clan. Is this true?”

“It is.”

“Red Shield Hold does not often form trade agreements with foreigners, no matter their bravery, but…as you have done my realm a service, I shall at least inspect your wares. Do you have them with you in your apartments?”

“Better. I have a sample here.” Felix reached into his coat and withdrew a stone bottle corked and sealed with inscribed wax. “This is an Essence Draught attuned to earth Mana.”

The Hinterlord gestured and a servant scurried forward to take the bottle from Felix and bring it to the Dwarf’s outstretched hand. He turned it over twice, inspecting it from all angles. He even brought it to his nose and sniffed it. With a flick of his wrist, the Hinterlord broke the wax seal, releasing a cloud of dusty brown infused heavily with pale, undifferentiated Mana. From all around, the ambient power in the room was drawn forward, gathering in heavy clouds and shimmering auras around the bottle’s open mouth. The music halted, the dancers paused, and all conversation died away.

The man blinked, throat working for a second before any sound came out. “Powerful. Truly, magnificently powerful. Distilled from the Spirit Fruit of the Atlantes Anima. What is that?”

“A Spirit Tree.”

Kragan Red Shield blinked again, and then he laughed. “Stones and stars. You speak the truth, Mr. Veil?”

“I do. My source distills these draughts directly from the Tree itself.”

“Astounding.” The Hinterlord handed the bottle to a servant, who held it away from themselves as if it were a bomb. “These could be a mighty boon to anyone who trades with you, Mr. Veil. Have you established contact with anyone else?”

“I have not. You are my first, Hinterlord.”

Kragan rubbed his chin. “I would offer you a grand sum of gold for the shipment you have with you…but if you have not approached any others as of yet, that makes me question why.”

Felix smiled and spread his hands. “For future trade, I would be more than happy with gold. However, for now I am looking for something more important. An item to heal a friend.”

“Far be it for me to spurn coin, but that would be a simple solution not suitable for a trade of such opulence. Red Shield Hold claims the allegiance of many great alchemists and herbalists. They are able to concoct any number of remedies that could easily heal your friend.”

“It’s not a Status Condition or an ailment,” Felix said. “It’s a curse wrapped around my friend’s core space.”

Kragan sucked at his teeth, thick fingers tapping at his lips. “A dangerous thing. Few could cure that…and fewer still would try without great urging. To fail would have a terrible cost.”

“I have heard a great deal of the treasures the Hinterlords possess. One such item has been mentioned to me in my travels.” Felix took a bracing breath. “An artifact that could heal anything, Body, Mind, and Spirit. The Mote of Frenzy.”

The Hinterlord dropped his hand, gripping the golden arm of his throne. “I am aware of that artifact…and I am disappointed. Not because what you say is untrue, but because it is a treasure I cannot offer.”

Felix’s gut dropped, and a curious heat crawled up his back. “Why?”

Kragan narrowed his eyes, perhaps at Felix’s tone, but he answered. “It is a clan treasure, one passed through the Ages from one Hinterlord to the next. They are sacrosanct, not to be touched by any but the Hinterlords themselves, and even then, only when it would strengthen the clan.”

“The Essence Draughts would greatly benefit your clan,” Vess pointed out. “It would empower your people with potent Aspects and solidify their foundations. In time, with our draughts, the Red Shield clan would strengthen its base tenfold.”

Kragan grunted. “You’ll forgive me for not taking you at your word, Your Grace. The Hierocracy, who your father serves, has been attempting to grasp the treasures of my people for many long centuries.” The guy blew a deep breath out of his lungs, setting his mustache fluttering. “However, for the Hero of Birchstone I am honor-bound to do something. Bring your friend to me, and I’ll have my finest healers look into their curse. Perhaps they can find a solution.”

“That’s…generous,” Felix said. It wasn’t the Mote, but it couldn’t hurt. If only we had more time.

“In return, I would ask that you stay in the Clan Hold until the summer begins. Your prowess would be a potent solution to our current issues of security and—”

A Dwarf with an iron gray mustache stepped up to the throne, a conical helmet set with scrolling gold knotwork upon his head to match the mithril armor he wore. “My Lord. A development.”

“Hm. My Marshal-General beckons. In the meantime, please enjoy yourselves at the gala. It is for you, after all. I will have your answer later, Mr. Veil. Your Grace.”

With less than a nod, the two of them were dismissed from the dais. Forge Knights led them back down to the polished floor before they returned to the throne. Felix chewed at his cheek, considering their options as he mindlessly returned to their original table. He turned and considered the dancing nobility, watching them fake laugh through song after song, their Spirits belying their savage dislike of one another.

“We tried,” Felix muttered at last. “He won’t trade for the Mote, and clearly won’t give us access to it.”

Vess took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think his healers would be able to accomplish anything?”

“We don’t have the time to figure that out,” Felix said with a sigh. “Archie. Imara. It’s all coming to a head. Soon—”

A piping voice interrupted his thoughts, as Pit’s excitement rippled through their bond.

Felix? I found them.

Where are you? Felix asked.Just outside the servants quarters. I made… Pit paused, tracing his thoughts back along the path he’d followed. Lots of turns to get here. Not sure how far.

The Flight of Elegance was ahead, and Pit watched them from around a corner. Their door opened and all of them started piling in. Pit danced indecisively, his little feet shuffling. I’m gonna go for it!

Wait, go for what?

Pit didn’t answer and instead rushed the open door. Thankfully his stealth and small size was more than adequate to squeeze through unnoticed.

Inside it was modest, clearly designed for servants and a bit too small for the entire troupe. The Korvaa started chatting among one another, while the three Sylphaen gathered in the far corner. Pit hopped up onto a narrow bed and dropped his Gloaming Shroud.

“Where—? Did someone get a dog?” a falcon-like Korvaa asked.

“What? No. Where did that come from?”

“Musta snuck in.”

The Sylphaen were looking at him, but their heads were tilted to the side, as if Pit confused them somehow. A bulkier Korvaa approached carefully.

“Come here, little fella. We’ll get you back out of here.”

The guy looked like he was going to grab him, so Pit took away the option. He shifted from Dire Hound to tenku. His body spread out in a flash of light, tail bumping against the headboard while his forepaws and head just about hung off the end. Everyone in the room jumped back, startled and cursing.

“Hello,” he chirruped. “I’m Pit.”

That’s one way to introduce yourself, Felix said.

There was a beat of shock, but to Pit’s surprise and delight, every single person in the room dropped into a bow.

“Honored Tenku,” Falcon said. “How are you here…Are you trapped by the Dwarves?”

Pit laughed. “What? No. I came here with my Companion.”

“Companion?” The Korvaa and Sylphaen exchanged surprised looks. Maybe even alarmed, but Pit hadn’t a clue why that would be. His Etheric Concordance was one of the best things that had happened to him.

“Yup. Anyway, we had some questions.”

“What sort of questions?” Falcon asked.

Ask them if they know of a multi-colored Sylphaen, Felix sent. She would have shown up a year ago and—

“Why do you call me Honored Tenku?” Pit asked instead. “I met some Korvaa once in the Void and they called me the same thing. Is it like…a cultural thing?”

Falcon slowly considered Pit’s words, likely because they were so incredibly wise. “The Chimera are to be honored. Such is our way. Such is our truth.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. That doesn’t really answer anything. How do you even know what Chimera are?” Pit twitched his ear tufts. “We’re not common.”

“In Sunara, tenku and wyverns are known to fly the tempest. They are powerful and worthy of our respect.”

“There’s…more tenku?” Pit sat back on his haunches, stunned.

“We have seen only a few during the worst of the seasonal storms, but yes. There are Chimera in Sunara.” Falcon gave him a look that Pit couldn’t interpret. It was…misty eyed. “Where are you from, that you’ve been so isolated, Honored Tenku?”

Pit?

I’m fine. I just didn’t think… “I’m fine. My Companion wanted to ask the Sylphaen a question.”

The Elf-like people tilted their heads again, this time their mouths opening to release a trilling song. Pit frowned. Falcon answered for them.

“The Sylphaen cannot speak the common tongue. Their mouths are not right for it. But I will speak with you, Companion of the Honored Tenku.”

“Do you know of a woman with multi-colored wings? She is a Sylphaen, like you guys.”

The Sylphaens straightened, their curious body language suddenly guarded. The Korvaa spoke to them in their fluting language, but they only replied with a series of terse notes. “Sorry. They will not speak on it. They say it is forbidden.”

“Why?”

Without warning, the Sylphaen gave Pit another bow of respect, before they walked out of the room entirely.

Falcon sighed. “Honored Tenku or no, their people hold Oaths to be powerful. I am sorry.” He and the other Korvaa looked to Pit curiously. “Do you have any other questions?”

…Felix?

Annoying. Yeah, let me list a few off for you.

After giving Pit a list of questions to ask the Sunaran troupe, Vess had dragged Felix back onto the dance floor.

He’d never been a big fan of it back home, but he had to admit it was quite fun so long as you had the right partner. Matching Vess’ impeccable footwork was tough, especially as the steps grew more and more complicated, but it was a satisfying challenge. And it kept his Mind from worrying at the plan.

“They have returned,” Vess whispered.

Felix completed a half-turn with Vess in his arms, and saw a Dwarf and Elf hustling down the pale stairs of the ballroom. The Chanters scanned the room for only a second before they made a beeline straight for them.

“My…Mr. Veil,” Laur said, panting slightly. Felix raised an eyebrow at that; for a Master Tier to get winded meant they had really pressed themselves. A bubble of wards surrounded their group, cutting off any eavesdroppers. “I have traced the faults from the High Roads into the Clan Hold, and, following the patterns, have developed a method to identify the disruption in—”

“We found the way into the Undermount,” Tzfell finished, her own excitement mounting. “It’s close, as we guessed.”

“Oh good.” Pit, fully stealthed, leaped into the air and landed on Felix’s shoulder. He dropped a rolled up scroll into his Companion’s hands. “I’m done too. After all those questions, the dancers drew a map.”

Felix unrolled it, glancing over the hastily scribed mountains and what looked like water. “Excellent. Laur, send word to Loquis and Mervin. Have them engage their distraction. We’ve exhausted our efforts here.”

As if waiting for Felix’s words, alarm bells rang out. They were distant at first, a sparse far-off ringing, but they grew closer and closer until even the ballroom of the Nightfall Palace shook with their warning.

“The Hinterlord is gone,” Vess said.

“The Marshal-General with him.” Felix scanned the crowd. The nobility had frozen at first but now they gathered in fast-talking clusters, glancing worriedly out through the vast windows.

“Is this us?” Pit asked. “The distraction?”

“No.” Tzfell’s tattoos squirmed, a sign of her fear, Felix had learned. “Someone has breached the city gates.”

“Again?”

One of the many stone braziers around them flared with fire, popping as it consumed whatever fuel it ran on. In that noise, Felix’s Affinity tangled with something else. A voice, just on the edge of hearing.

The Pathless’ Vessel Has Arrived.

“Did anyone else hear that?” he asked.

“I cannot hear anything over these forsaken bells,” Yintarion grumbled.

It wasn’t his Hunger. The voice was old, grandfatherly even…and distantly familiar. If it was true…Felix licked his lips, sorting through his options. Evie, Beef, and Harn weren’t back yet and the Claw might not have moved onto their second phase. They had to move fast.

“We need to act now. Stick to the plan,” Felix said. “Go.”