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TRAS Chapter 111: Trust
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 15:18:10 +0000 UTCThis was the first Ailn had even heard of an echo stone.
“Tonight?” Ailn blinked. “You’re telling me there’s an artifact that can communicate hundreds of kilometers away instantly?”
Havrek gave Nisé a curious look, his brow furrowing. “Have we not already dispatched envoys to Varant?” Then, turning to Ailn, he added, “They’ve become popular within the capital this last year.”
“I believe we have sent envoys to three other major duchies,” Nisé replied, still beaming. “It seems they’ve been dragging their feet in reaching Varant.”
Internally, Ailn was fuming. He’d spent months sending couriers when this world already had telephones?
“So, with these echo stones… I could hold a conversation with someone in the capital right now,” Ailn probed.
“Not quite,” Havrek replied. He beckoned them toward his desk at the back of his office, where a white stone with a dial rested—same as the one on the reception desk outside. “Two-way speech without delay holds only within a few paces.”
He gestured out of his office’s tall windows. “Within the range of a city, a message may be cast, reaching all stones attuned to its frequency. This takes roughly a quarter hour.” Then, raising an index finger, Havrek pointed toward the floor and traced a line along the ground. “Beyond that range, one must utilize leylines.”
He flicked his finger upward as if the line he was drawing raced off into the distance. “And naturally, sending a message over such a distance requires a powerful mage—whose mana is properly attuned to the flow of mana through the land.”
At that, Nisé performed an exaggerated curtsy, emphasizing the leyline-mimicking glyphs etched into her robe—it was a little off-putting.
“Even so,” Camille spoke up, after recovering from the momentary distraction, “The imperial capital is at least three days’ ride, and our courier informed ark-Chelon’s retainers only two days prior.”
Which meant even if they’d caught wind of the ring immediately, and were merely waiting for confirmation to swoop in like a hawk, they should arrive tomorrow at the earliest.
“Aye, well, the crown prince labors under his own whims,” Havrek said, a dull look entering his eye. “It happens that he was already within the duchy. Vacationing.”
Then, failing to stifle a brief yet disdainful sigh, he addressed Ailn with a sympathetic look. “I wager his siblings hastening as we speak—lest he steal a march on them.”
“Did he give any indication he wants to meet me tonight?” Ailn asked.
“He did not,” Havrek informed Ailn in an unimpressed tone. “And I suspect he’ll have distractions enough to occupy him tonight.”
“What, is he just sightseeing?” Ailn arched an eyebrow.
“...More or less,” Havrek replied.
“Huh. Whatever the case, I appreciate the heads up, Havrek,” Ailn shut the ring box with one hand. “We’ll be out of your hair, then.”
“Duke eum-Creid, before you take your leave—Nisé, see that the duke receives an echo stone as he departs—I’ve left one secret yet unrevealed to the imperial family,” Havrek said. His gaze fell upon the ring box. “Take the opportunity to submerge the ring in water before locking it away. As far as I can tell, it is merely a curiosity. Still, perhaps it will prove meaningful.”
“Is it really alright to tell me and not them?” Ailn asked.
Both hands clasped behind his back, the dwarf gave a stately shrug. “It is a mere whim.”
________________________
“Were you not accompanied by Dame Camille this morning?” Ashton asked curiously. “Despite our strict measures, she of all people would have been allowed to accompany you—given her lineage.”
“Dame Camille is taking care of something urgent for me right now,” Ailn replied.
Plus, Camille seemed to have a particularly complicated relationship with lineage. As none of the other knights could accompany him, Ailn opted to enter the vault of Calum Trading House alone.
The path to the vault was winding and labyrinthine—not the most comfortable walk alone with Ashton and the elderly vaultkeeper leading the way. Ailn had already had his fill of dark tunnels over the past few months.
“Not unlike Varant, Calum boasts rather elaborate quarries beneath the city,” Ashton explained. He raised his artifact to cast light over granite tunnels they passed through. “Unlike Varant, however, we have never faced such dire straits that we were forced to repurpose them as catacombs.”
This was a particularly malevolent comparison between the two cities, but Ailn ignored it.
“Calum was chosen as ark-Chelon’s capital not solely for its proximity to the Carapax Crests,” Ashton continued his explanation smoothly, “but for the convenience of transforming these granite quarries into vaults,” he said. “Naturally, those nobles who amassed their fortunes through mining gravitated here, seeking secure storage.”
In short, Calum’s serendipity ran far deeper than its access to precious resources. The city had accumulated a second type of wealth—one which would eventually prove far more enduring: trust.
Calum had caught all the breaks, and between its technological edge and burgeoning institutional complexity, it was unmistakably edging toward modernity.
“‘Ere. Not that way,” the vaultkeeper grunted, coming to an abrupt stop.
They had been moving down a straight corridor, but he drew to the wall and gave it a firm push. The false stretch of wall swung around like a turnstile.
“Tell me, Ailn—are you familiar with the legend of the Carapax Crests?” Ashton asked.
“Can’t say I am,” Ailn said, wishing they would soon arrive at the vault.
“One could call it the duchy’s founding legend—that a great turtle dove into the depths of the ocean to retrieve its most precious treasures,” Ashton said. “Yet when it sought to surface, the turtle discovered, to its great consternation, that it had unwittingly swum beneath the land. Desperate to find air, its great shell pressed upward, forming grand mounds with its every attempt to rise.”
He concluded his story. “Which we now know as ark-Chelon’s mountain ranges.”
“Interesting,” Ailn said flatly. They continued through the former quarries.
Ashton filled the silence on his own. “I suppose if the turtle’s treasures were left in our mountains, then the great beast must have drowned.” He gave a performative, thoughtful frown. “What do you make of that, Ailn?”
“I don’t know,” Ailn said. “Sounds pretty macabre.”
He was beginning to conspire for ways that Kylian could interact with Ashton in his stead.
Thankfully, they seemed to be reaching their destination. The cut of the quarry was beginning to refine itself, looking more like a proper corridor. Artifacts lined the walls, cradled in gleaming silver mounts.
“I trust you’ll understand, Ailn, that most individuals—even quite distinguished nobles—are not afforded the opportunity to personally see their treasure to its vault,” Ashton informed him. “Take it as a sign of good faith.”
They came upon a wall of what appeared to be adamantine safes. From left to right, the safes actually decreased in size, and the vaultkeeper brought them to the end with the smallest.
“Tell me, Ailn. Do you trust me?” Ashton asked.
“No,” Ailn replied.
“As you shouldn’t,” Ashton replied. “This safe at the end requires a very special key to open.”
He pulled from the vault what looked like a mythril sphere. With some effort, the sphere actually came apart into three pieces—two half spheres, and a shell-like piece which connected them together.
“The key is divided into three parts, each entrusted to a different individual. The vaultkeeper here will deliver the first piece unto the guildmaster of Calum Trading House—with your accompaniment and observation, of course,” Ashton said. “The second is held and guaranteed by House ark-Chelon.”
“...You’ll be holding it,” Ailn said, arching an eyebrow.
“My father will,” Ashton said. “Though more honestly, his head knight will act in his stead, as my father’s health is waning. Rest assured, I will not hold it myself. As with the first piece, you can personally see it into the head knight’s hands.”
Ashton placed the shell-like fragment of the key into Ailn’s hands. “The last piece, of course, stays in your possession.”
“And if I lose it?” Ailn asked.
“Take care not to,” Ashton smiled.
At the end of the day, no matter how many layers of security, trust in the vault required trust in the family ark-Chelon itself. Ailn wondered if the safe might only be as secure as his ability to protect his own piece of the key.
“I can understand the symbolic value of Duke ark-Chelon holding a piece of the key…” Ailn murmured thoughtfully. “But if his head knight holds it instead, isn’t that rendered worthless?”
“When the ducal house of ark-Chelon acts as guarantor, it’s partially an assurance that none outstrip us in wealth—and any loss can be rectified,” Ashton clarified. “Though I will be clear: it’s never come to that.”
“I can’t imagine any amount of wealth could make up for losing The Dragon’s Promise,” Ailn probed.
“You’re quite correct,” Ashton said. “It’s an extraordinary situation. And the security we can offer is merely exceptional.” He gave a palms-up shrug, theatrically emphasizing that it couldn’t be helped.
“...Should I trust in this vault’s security, Ashton?” Ailn asked, trying to read his expression.
“It’s certainly never failed before,” Ashton replied pleasantly.
“Guess that’s the best answer I’m getting,” Ailn muttered, carefully placing the ring box into the safe.
________________________
“I appreciate the favor you’ve done for us… Father.” Camille hesitated on the last word, unsure if she had come as a knight or a daughter.
“...I haven’t met the new Duke eum-Creid since his childhood,” her father replied. “I don’t want that to become a wall between House Gren and the eum-Creids. Ask him to see me before he leaves Calum.”
“Of course,” Camille replied.
Seated across from each other, Camille Gren and her father, Viscount Horace Gren, bore a remarkably similar demeanor. Though she wore the garb of an Azure Knight, and he maintained the fastidious appearance of a Calum bureaucrat, the two shared the same serene smile.
Camille’s discomfort around her mother Ennieux stemmed from their differences. Around her father, however, it was just the opposite.
“Is Nicolas doing well?” Horace asked. “I… worry for him.”
His speech was smooth, yet taciturn.
“Nicolas is perfectly well,” Camille replied.
“And your mother?” Horace inquired.
“Mother as well,” Camille replied.
“...Good.” Horace gave a conclusive nod.
Not even Camille could say for certain whether her father truly cared about her mother. As a child, she believed she could read through his inscrutable demeanor, to find the sincere interest and shadow of love kept beneath.
But the older she became, the more she wondered, her suspicions set off by the way the maids of the Gren estate would look at him.
________________________
His time to prepare drastically shortened from his expectation, Ailn couldn’t shake the creeping dread of negotiating with the imperial family.
For the short-term, at least, Varant’s finances would be alright. Count Fleuve and Ailn had eventually worked out an increase in Sussuro’s subsidies to the duchy—in exchange for the contents of Noué’s vault.
The problem was the ring had proven consequential in a far more immediate sense than Ailn had anticipated, and he’d been abruptly pulled him into the conflict for imperial succession. The fact that imperial princes and princesses had set out to meet him without hesitation, based merely on the plausible authenticity of The Dragon’s Promise, showed he’d severely underestimated the artifact.
He would quite possibly be forced to play kingmaker.
“They could stand to be more skeptical,” Ailn groaned, running his hands through his hair.
By the time they’d surfaced from the guild’s vault, the sun was already beginning to set. They’d spent longer down there than he thought. Ailn had just assumed that Ashton’s presence had made time stretch into a long, dreadful sigh.
He was returning to the ark-Chelon estate in the same carriage that had brought him to the guild hall of Calum Trading House. The Azure Knights were waiting to receive him at the estate, their demeanor oddly restless.
“Did something happen?” Ailn asked Kylian, upon dismissing the knights.
“The crown prince has arrived at the estate,” Kylian informed Ailn with a troubled tone. “And though we’ve yet to cross his path…”
“It’s the closest they’ve been to the imperial family, huh?” Ailn finished the thought. “Seems like he’s got a poor reputation, too.”
“The imperial family has a reputation for self-indulgence,” Kylian explained. “And the crown prince is known to be… particularly capricious.”
With a grimace, Kylian added, “The true weight of this endeavor is perhaps only now fully impressing itself upon the knights. I myself had expected, at least at this stage, an envoy.”
Things had escalated rather quickly—hardly more than a week had passed since they left Sussuro.
“...What exactly are your intentions tomorrow, Ailn?” Kylian asked.
“I’m still figuring that out,” Ailn said, scratching the back of his head. His hand stopped mid-scruff. “Huh. Got something for me?
Kylian handed him a missive. “This arrived while you were in the Calum Trading House’s vault.”
It was thick vellum—the expensive stuff. And the blue wax it was sealed with bore the eum-Creid’s lupine family crest.
Comments
Viktor Alexia
Yes, the three part keys; the emphasis on the safety of the vault; and the stakes feels like an elaborate set up to a detective mystery. I'd be more surprised if the ring does not get stolen.
Krish Gupta
That ring is about to get stolen.
