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3.14 Mishap
🕑 Added 2023-11-06 08:52:19 +0000 UTC1/2
Difference: Small
AN: I am gonna stop mentioning next chapter progress on Mondays since I have not written a word until the weekend over more than a month. Anyway, enjoy.
The room flinched. Irwyn did not, staring directly into the intense Light and seeing straight through without an issue. What it revealed were three figures that would stick out like a loose nail anywhere in the Duchy of Black, much more so on an occasion like this. That was for a simple reason: They were clothed in bright golden silk.
The people were three, two wearing full-face masks and a step behind the last one. Rather than suits or dresses they wore robes, wavy clothes that screamed they had to be silken or even more exotic. While the followers were relatively unadorned besides that, their leader wore a golden gem-encrusted amulet and an insignia ring all in shades of yellow. On it was what appeared to be a golden triangle with its base on the right edge and a horizontal line cutting halfway into it, as well as what appeared to be a sun in the background right behind it.
“Who is this?” Irwyn glanced at Elizabeth who seemed to still be blinking away the bright flash.
“Moment,” she grunted and rubbed her eyes, then blinked a few times again. It took her a good dozen more seconds to recover enough to see. And she did not like what she did. “Fuck.”
“Who is it?” Irwyn stared at her and saw her expression shift. From realization to shock. Then anger and, if he wasn’t wrong, a hint of dread.
“That would be Illius di Brightbeak,” she grimaced, the slightest tremble going through her.
“Who?” Irwyn inclined his head. “Couldn’t be too important since they ring no bells.”
“If only,” Elizabeth sighed, smiling slightly and regaining her composure. “Illius of House Brightbeak, the sole heir to the Duchy of Yellow… also a cruel and hateful entitled brat.”
“I assume there is history,” Irwyn nodded.
“More than I care to remember,” she mirrored the gesture, then still grit her teeth. “I can see that Alira was not the unwelcome guest my brother had intended to warn me about.”
“Should I be worried?” Irwyn asked, trying to be indirect. He wasn’t sure how angry Elizabeth actually was but it seemed deep-rooted. Would he need to calm her down if things went too far?
“I can keep my cool,” she replied, tersely. “I am not a child anymore. For all Illius seems to always know the most hurtful thing to say.”
“If you need help, I am here,” Irwyn reassured. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth nodded.
In the meantime, Illius was just kind of… strolling around the room. A bright smile was plastered on the young man’s face - he couldn’t be much older than Irwyn or Elizabeth. Meanwhile, the reaction the parlor gave him could only be called universal wrathfulness. Like an outsider intruding on their sanctuary. The anger was almost physically seeping into the air. Not that it seemed to bother the heir to a whole damn Duchy any. Why was he even here?
As if to answer that question, Illius wandered wordlessly for a while longer, looking around in seeming amazement before his eyes wandered towards Elizabeth and Irwyn. There his gaze lingered for a moment before he smiled even wider and approached.
“Finally, a face I bothered to remember!” Illius exclaimed with a peal of laughter as he approached, loud enough for anyone in the whole hall to be potentially offended by the statement. “Elizabeth! How is my 26th favorite noble lady doing?”
“Quite well, Lord Illius,” Elizabeth smiled stiffly, though she did not contradict the man. He supposed that one of the daughters of a Duchess was not quite like being a sole child. Or perhaps she was just being polite and would punch him in the face soon. “Though I cannot say you were expected.”
“It is only natural!” Illius exclaimed, still smiling wide. “Your mother basically accused our Duchy of supplying the Liches souls! Such insult... I had to come myself to show that we are not traitors to the mutual cause! And demand an apology.”
“I see,” Elizabeth slowly nodded. “It does ma…”
“What are you waiting for?” Illius interrupted. “Why are you not apologizing?”
“Am I responsible for my mother’s words?” Elizabeth was surprised by the interaction but did not let it shake her.
“Are you not of the same flesh and blood?” Illius scoffed, the smile suddenly gone off of his face. “Who else would be responsible if not the daughter?”
“You stretch your logic far, Lord,” Elizabeth’s tone became warning. “I have heard an apology has been issued by the Duke himself. How could I possibly dare lessen it by attaching my meager self?”
“So you will not.”
“I believe it would not be appropriate,” Elizabeth shrugged slowly.
“Then how about I speak a tongue your thick skull can comprehend?” Illius smiled again, just much more viciously. “I challenge you to a duel.”
“Then I concede,” Elizabeth said without missing a beat, loud enough to be heard. “What point is there in fighting a battle I cannot win? Your attainment as a duelist is widely known, Lord. Far above mine.”
“Cowardly!” he screamed.
“A coward flinches and runs,” Elizabeth countered. “Am I retreating, Lord Illius?”
“Then have our entourages fight,” his gaze immediately landed on Irwyn. There was not even a pause left for consideration. “One on one.”
“Hmm,” Elizabeth glanced at Irwyn calculating. He did not give her a nod or any visible sign. She knew he would do what she thought best. “I hardly see the point of it. But if you wish they fight for the sake of fighting, then it shall be so.”
“Bethal,” Illius did not even reply to Elizabeth, instead turning around to one of his two followers. This up close, Irwyn realized that she was distinctly a woman. “Crush this one for me.”
“It is going to be done,” Bethal nodded, stepping towards the arena while Irwyn was still standing up. As he walked towards the ring he noted that Illius chose to occupy the seat opposite to Elizabeth, much to her displeasure. Soon enough, the familiar sand was beneath his feet.
“A challenge has been issued,” the arbiter announced, as they had before every duel of the day. “Over the proof of might! On one side stands Irwyn of no House, representing her Ladyship Elizabeth von Blackburg. On the other stands Bethal, also of no House, representing his Lordship Illius di Brightbeak. They shall battle to first direct strike. On my mark, begin!”
“Presence of the Loyal”
“Lightstorm”
Irwyn chose to open with a relatively simple spell - a wide cluster of slicing solid Light at the three intentions he was willing to show. Bethal on the other hand began to glow. She shone brightly, until the light took physical integrity. In a radius around her, it solidified into something close to a barrier, bearing 3 intentions, though even beyond Irwyn found the leftover glow attempting to disrupt his spell. Trivial enough for him to ignore when holding back this much but the effect was surprisingly potent for the power invested into it. He wasn’t sure why; he especially would have expected Light magic to be less effective at disrupting his own.
“Armaments of the Loyal”
When the Lightstorm clashed with the protective Light Bethal cast another spell. Irwyn wanted to almost curse because even before it manifested, he immediately recognized it for what it was: Another three-intention spell. All the while he was restricted to one lest he showed himself talented enough that their foes would spare nothing to kill him.
It was mightily inconvenient though as Irwyn watched Bethal grow a short sword and a shield from thin air as well as a thin glowing layer over her robes. Then she swung and the Presence spell seemed to extend with the swing in perfect sync, slashing into Irwyn’s Lightstorm, damaging it enough that Irwyn decided to scrap it.
“Loyalbane Lightblades”
And immediately tried to counter. Did he have a loyalbane spell properly figured out? No, not at all. But since the spell only used 3 intentions, he could compensate for that with his leftover willpower. What did loyalbane even mean? Irwyn didn’t really know either. But presumably, it would make the spell much better against ones so insistent on the ‘loyal’ in their own names. Half a dozen sharp crescents manifested around Irwyn, poised to fly forward at a thought. Bethal seemed unworried as she stepped forward.
Irwyn sent the blades forward while backing away. It cut into the Presence surrounding Bethal, yet did not quite make it all the way through, as if trying to imprint into rubber: The further in the spell reached the greater the resistance. That was troublesome.
Fighting with one three-intention spell against two was a significant disadvantage, especially since the two seemed to synergize. The aura-like magic of the first followed the swing of Bethal's magical blade while the shield seemed to reinforce whatever was in front of it. She kept approaching while Irwyn made distance as best as he could in the ring’s limited space, slowing her approach with his Lightblades. Which wasn’t ideal given that they could be dispelled by a good hit from the extended sword or if they got stuck inside the Presence for too long. Given the restrictions imposed upon him, Irwyn found it might not be feasible to win. At least in a straightforward fight. Sneak attacks would be difficult given the glowing defense enveloping Bethal but Irwyn had a path to victory: Stall until his opponent ran out of mana.
It was basically impossible Bethal had even a fraction of his reserves after all. And she was actively maintaining two seemingly rather powerful spells, no one would find it strange if she ended up out of steam. And thus began an exemplary game of cat and mouse. Once his Lightblades were broken, Irwyn took a page from Elizabeth’s book, using waves and fogs that obscured line of sight, switching between Light and Flame as randomly as he could manage to avoid becoming predictable. Bethal was indeed powerful… but her two spells severely lacked range. Although Irwyn’s physical condition left much to be desired, he maintained his Starflesh spell at two intentions which was more than enough to leave him fast and unwinded in such a small area, avoiding any attempt to encircle his.
It took Bethal several minutes to admit Irwyn would not make a mistake large enough to allow her victory in one swoop. So, she changed her strategy, dismissing the Armaments spell, instead using the newly freed focus to bombard Irwyn with three intention Light spells…
But those were not as powerful as the previous combination. Lacked the destructive power to break Irwyn’s barriers when he reoriented into full defense. Seemingly she had only exactly enough reserves to maintain two three-intention magics as she had not summoned anything beyond that. But if she dismissed the Presence spell keeping her safe Irwyn was ready to exploit such a window of opportunity to steal away victory.
And he was having a great time. It was different than when he fought Elizabeth. There he had felt it a fight against equals, outsmarting, outmaneuvering each other every step of the way, the victor often determined by jumping one mind game ahead. In the fight against Bethal Irwyn felt in control. No chaos, no real surprises. A plan that was going exactly as he had envisioned it for all he was technically on the back foot because of his restrictions. And his opponent had to know that, the attacks getting progressively more desperate. She would eventually run out of mana. If she started to try and conserve some, Irwyn was ready to immediately go on the offensive…
“Fascinating,” a familiar voice sounded. Irwyn had enough leeway to pay attention to it as well as the fight. It was Illius di Brightbeak speaking, at some point, he had approached the arena. “Very well, I will admit I had underestimated you. Bethal, all out.”
There was a pause. A short lul in the battle. Then Bethal chanted.
“Break resistance,
Obliterate insistence
Shatter any veil,
The Loyal prevail”
Naturally, Irwyn had tried to stop her but the Presence of the Loyal was not a defense he could quickly break with just three-intention magic. He made some effort, yet not enough to make a difference. Then halfway through the chant he had a dreadful discovery: The spell held four intentions. Irwyn did not know why, but he had not been the only one holding back much power.
Perhaps it was his affinity with Light that allowed him to tell that much even before the spell was fully cast. It gave him a few moments to contemplate the unfeasibility of his situation. No matter what it was, his barriers would not hold. Perhaps there would usually be some hope with three intentions against four but that did not sound like a spell weak against barriers. It was a simple truth that he would lose as long as he held back.
Irwyn felt the sting on his Pride. He was not just fighting for himself. He was also representing Elizabeth. And what shame it would bring her, for him to be defeated by a retainer of their rival Duke Household. Not to mention he felt unwilling. Not wanting to lose a battle he had every right and all the power to win with ease. He itched to reveal more. To properly counter and curb the arrogance of thinking they could defeat him.
But he did not. Avys’ warning still rang true, that revealing his true talent would make him so much more threatening to his enemies. From an eyesore to a genuine danger in just a few decades. He refused to deny all the effort it undoubtedly took to keep such information locked away after Abonisle. Perhaps, he thought, this was the trap the vision had warned me about? A snare of arrogance.
All he could do was helplessly smile and attempt one last desperate gambit. He let go of the barrier for it would not save him. Instead, he channeled a different spell: A spear of flame. Pierce, penetrate, puncture. And he created it just behind Bethal. Not far away from the protections still shielding her. And as the chant finished, the Presence spell boiled.
For a moment it looked like heated water, the surface and insides of the spell roiling and twisting around as if in chaos. Then the protective aura exploded into a rain of thousand needles. Mirthlessly, Irwyn noted that his spear did not survive, targeted by more than enough to shatter it. He stared at the majority of the spell's power directed at him for the split second they traveled and just about managed to start a defeated sigh.
Then the needles impacted on his skin.
Not the protective layer of the formation that governed the ring. His skin. Unprotected, undefended mortal flesh. His mind flinched with surprise and anticipation of agony as thousands of pinpricks simultaneously drove into him with power that should in any and every circumstance shred the body to less than smithereens.
Yet it was Light.
And just like Irwyn did not burn, Light did not cut him. Did not pierce more than his clothes. Irwyn stared numbly as the lethal attack tried to pierce his skin, then seemingly realized its mistake and rather cease in place than continue the attempt.
A split second later the needles shattered and vanished without a trace. Irwyn realized that in between instants - so fast he could not point out when - the referee had moved in front of him and was staring at Irwyn with an utterly mortified stare. The next moment it was replaced by flabbergasted shock as he realized Irwyn had not been reduced to puree as anyone else would have been.
“Are you… alive?” the man muttered, then flinched infinitesimally. “I mean, how are you feeling? Help is on the way.”
“What happened?” Irwyn asked, more buying time than confused. There was really only one possibility. “I am fine.”
“The array malfunctioned,” the referee admitted. Whether that was an accident or malice Irwyn could leave for later. “Are you really uninjured? Forgive my curiosity but I am not sure how you have not… died.”
“How I…” Irwyn pretended to extend his shock, then faked a flinch. Urgently he reached into his pocket, summoning a few sparks of Starfire as subtly as he could into his palm. He then withdrew a closed fist, opening it in front of the room for all to see said few sparks seemingly disperse into the air. “Oh,” Irwyn re-flinched staring at them.
“That is?” the referee asked, though clearly suspecting the answer.
“My lifeline,” Irwyn grimaced, putting into it all the feeling of loss he could muster. “Not something that was supposed to be used in a duel, damnit.”
“I would apologize on behalf of House Blackburg,” the judge sighed. “Though that would not be appropriate given your relation to it is greater than mine. There will be an investigation immediately. This is unprecedented. Here.”
“Thank you,” Irwyn nodded as he was handed a large black cloak. Which was a good thing as he now noticed his clothes had been reduced to tatters - less in some places.
“Go rest,” the judge nodded. “Her Young Ladyship will undoubtedly be updated.”
And so, he did. He didn’t stop a grimace from appearing over his face on the way back as the room stared at him, though most of it - he noted - was not hostile. The common target of the communal Wrath seemed to be the young heir to House Brightbeak, speaking to his masked servant to the side of the arena. Whether those were justified, Irwyn deferred judgement.
“Anything from the ‘investigation’ yet?” he said as soon as he returned. Of course, he didn’t mean the incident from perhaps a minute ago but rather what he suspected might be the cause: The hunch of lurking necromancers the vision had given him.
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked instead. Irwyn glanced at her, inclining his head… only to realize she was wide-eyed. Visibly shaken.
“Of course,” he nodded, sounding more confident than he necessarily was. If that had been any other magic that struck him… Yet it wasn’t. In truth, with Light he had never been at risk. Perhaps that was why the ‘near-death experience’ did not shake him as it ought to have.
“The array malfunctioned, as in completely failed,” she kept staring. “You took the full brunt of a four-intention spell. Of course? How are you even fine?”
“Well, it was Light magic,” Irwyn said slowly.
“What do you m…” Elizabeth started, then stopped, flushing. “Oh, I am being an idiot, aren’t I?”
“I can hardly begrudge you being worried on my behalf,” Irwyn smiled.
“Is this the ‘emotional blindsiding’ my mother is so keen on?” a frown appeared on her face. “I had already thought that you would be seemingly immune to Light as well as Flame. I can’t believe I was so panicked I didn’t think of it.”
“Don’t beat yourself over it,” Irwyn shrugged, then frowned. “What I find much more interesting is how that array might have malfunctioned. And whether it was a malfunction at all.”
“I know what you are thinking,” Elizabeth nodded. “But this isn’t the style of the Duchy of Black. It’s too… underhanded. Hidden. If House Fathomsight thought it was a good option, they would have pressured you openly into fighting without the array.”
“The Brightbeak then?” Irwyn voiced the next obvious possibility, though his real suspicion lay elsewhere. “The timing was convenient.”
“No,” Elizabeth dismissed. “For all he is an abusive, petty bastard he doesn’t have an actual motive to kill you. Not enough to implicate a close subordinate and himself by extension. And that is not mentioning means - Illius must have been under perpetual close watch ever since he stepped into City Black, as well as anyone coming with him. Disabling the array in the middle of the day without anyone noticing is not something even the best conception mages should be able to do. And anyone stronger than that would not have been able to enter the city secretly.”
“The undead then,” Irwyn suggested.Because who else benefited the most? If he had died it would have been a significant incident. Irwyn did not know all the political undercurrents but he was pretty sure that the Prideful House Blackburg might take issue with the infringement. To the point it might weaken cooperation before the Lich war even fully began.
“Here,” Elizabeth shook her head and handed him a slip of paper. It simply said: ‘No traces of infiltration. Suspicion noted. High inquisitor Wesuvian.’
“So, I take that as a confident no,” Irwyn sighed. That rendered him out of ideas. “But there is no way it could be a coincidence, right?”
“It could be half of one,” Elizabeth said after thinking for a moment. “Fate magic.”
“I should be particularly hard to predict.”
“Yes, but Fate mages don’t need to rely on divination,” she elaborated. “If there was a Fate mage ready on standby someone could have notified them that you were losing the fight. Then all it would have taken was them maximizing the odds of a malfunction and getting lucky.”
“How feasible is it,” Irwyn was willing to entertain the idea, given the others had been dismissed.
“A late conception Wrester - mages who specialize in offensive Fate magic - could conceivably accomplish it without being found out,” Elizabeth. “At least, I think. I am only vaguely familiar. They are not the most common in the Duchy of Black. But House Blackburg will find out.”
“Not just your mother,” Irwyn noted.
“You are part of my entourage Irwyn, and that does make you part of House Blackburg, if distantly,” her eyes took a serious edge. “For all the posturing and politics, even those who oppose the main line will hold nothing back in finding out if this was an assassination attempt made by an underhanded outsider. And then if it was, they will hound those responsible to the end of the world and beyond if need be. Do not forget Irwyn: Wrath and Pride. When the latter is infringed, the former follows.”
And well, there was nothing Irwyn could think of to say to that. They sat in silence for a while and Irwyn realized the atmosphere in the room had gotten much heavier. People were glancing their way, as many had been before, but those eyes were far less hostile. Not worried, no, but angry. Not for Irwyn - most likely didn’t like him after what had happened earlier in the day - but furious that someone dared infringe on their event.
Well, at least they seemed to be on the same page that this was too coincidental to be an accident. Not five minutes later, a group of men in black cloaks trod out of the Voidways and began openly investigating the dueling grounds. Not that anyone had dared use them after the earlier mishap.
And interrogating. Irwyn felt an old instinct twitch as he was approached by the enforcers of law though he remembered that this time they would be on his side. So, he calmed down the best he could and tried to predict some of the upcoming conversations in his head. They had questions for him too after all.
Comments
Observer Whimsy
Hey I’m not complaining man, you write at your pace. Sweet timing for my insomnia
