Shardrunes
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[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 112 – The Starling Tower
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 03:49:18 +0000 UTC“That’s murder!” Heath protested.
“Technically, no,” Elian corrected. “So long as you are a competitor in the Convocation, you are competing for the prizes and glory associated with the Convocation. Whether you are in a trial or not, you still possess an Authority Level and move up or down in the rankings.”
“Wait,” Mel said, holding up a hand. “Are we getting battle points even outside of a trial?”
“For anything that applies.” Elian gestured to the window. “For the most part, if you were to go out into the wilds and slay a beast, you would gain runes of experience and battle points as normal.”
“No rune coins?” Heath asked.
Elian shook his head. “Not unless you were fulfilling a contract or quest that specifically rewarded them. Most monsters do not award rune coins.”
“How is Logan’s beard even bigger?” Gwen whispered, returning to her food. “It’s not fair. Thomas shaves his.”
Heath rubbed his chin, plainly self-conscious about his baby smooth cheeks. “What if we drop out?”
“You would once more fall under the aegis of the local governing body.” Elian turned to Mel. “I would like to make something very clear. You are not immune to laws or incarceration should you break them. It just so happens that taking out fellow competitors is a singular protected action by the Shardrune. Those reporters you threw around? They could press charges and you would answer for them.”
Mel brushed off the concern. “They liked it and you know it. Everybody wants to see the firecracker. The one who causes all the drama. Why do you think people like that exist? They just want to push more stories, and I’m able to give them what they want. Which means they’ll pay less attention to what my friends are doing in the shadows.” She winked at Heath and Gwen.
“Me, blend in the shadows?” Gwen glanced at herself. Armored like a viking and the tallest one there, she made noise just walking down the street. “Not a ranger anymore, unfortunately.”
“I do prefer the shadows,” Heath said quietly, then his eyes widened. “Wait, you were what?”
“Be that as it may,” Elian began, “it would be best if you kept your hijinks to a minimum.”
“Sorry, my hijinks stat is maxed out.” Mel grinned smugly. “A triple Perfect starred stat.”
“Now you’re just making things up.”
Mel held Elian’s doubting gaze long enough for the self-assured man to begin doubting himself. “Right…?”
“You don’t know.”
Gwen chuckled from the sidelines of the exchange, then got up to play some dart game with Heath. Though instead of just darts, there fwere a bunch of different types of tiny throwing weapons and the target kept changing the location of its bullseye.
Heath started to lose fast. The boy couldn’t keep his cool, even though he had performed fine during combat when it really counted.
Elian looked away. “I can’t stop you, only advise you. However, considering your high-profile antics, you should watch yourself. Your winnings alone would make you a target, Mel.”
Oh shit, that’s right. It wasn’t that they were rich, especially with the [Exile Gold Chest] and [Exile Silver Chest] being held in some sort of System-based escrow until Thomas came out.
All of their rewards from the Convocation were in there.
“On that note, how much is a hundred iron coins?” Mel asked.
“Each rank value is ten times the previous. An iron coin is worth ten coppers. A bronze coin is worth ten irons, or a hundred coppers and so on.”
Mel nodded. “Easy enough.” She looked at the others. “So that means we’ve got something like twelve hundred coppers to split up amongst ourselves.”
Heath nearly choked on his drink. “Really? If we split that four ways–”
“Who said we’re doing an even split?” Mel asked.
Gwen gave her a look.
“Oh, all right, fine. I’ll think about it. That’s the best you’ll get out of me. Don’t you give me those puppy dog eyes, Heath. I’d expect that out of Gwen, not you.”
Gwen glowered, holding a miniature throwing axe a little too threateningly. It probably couldn’t do more than take an eye out, anyway.
“So what can you tell us about the Syndicate?” Mel asked, eager to change the subject.
Elian looked a little nervous. “They are a powerful Grand Order. A conglomerate that deals in everything from common goods to rare luxuries. They rarely reach out to anybody. The fact that you have been approached by not just one, but two Grand Orders in the first days is auspicious indeed. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the Archmage walk through a portal to shake your hand!”
Mel motioned for Elian to sit. “Tell us about the Grand Orders.” The seating area was U-shaped around the viewscreen. In a lot of ways, the penthouse was familiar to those on Earth.
Provided you were richer than a god.
For once, the reporters were following somebody other than Magi. This time it was an opportunistic thief being chased across the rooftops near the sea by several guards. Their bluish steel equipment appeared enchanted, judging by the mana seeping out between the plates.
More of that smoky mana burst out when the guards suddenly picked up speed.
Elian sat down and smoothed his jacket. “There are countless Orders, but those that rise to the title of Grand Order are exceedingly rare. Of them, six are the most powerful and, in our present context, the only ones worth mentioning.”
“Which are?” Mel motioned for him to hurry up. She was getting impatient. This was the longest she’d gone talking without punching something or planning to punch something.
Being ripped from a violent, no-holds-barred tournament to suddenly being required to observe social norms would be difficult for anybody. For a Magi whose restraint on violent tendencies was paper thin already, it was borderline torture.
Need to find a way to channel that before the rest of the Magi arrive, Mel thought. Without an outlet for their violence, a small disagreement (which was common among Magi) could blow up into something much worse.
With the city guards not interfering, any scraps the Magi might get into could escalate beyond any hope of salvation. Their fragile alliance would be over before it began.
Gwen might be a particular trigger point. Her friendliness tempered her aggression only so far.
Elian counted on his fingers. “You have the Syndicate, which I’ve already discussed. Anything you buy has likely passed through their hands. Interestingly enough, they don’t actually make anything.”
“Typical merchants,” Gwen said with a snort.
“The Holy See covers all manner of religions and gods from countless cultures. They also are our primary healers and doctors. If you’re sick or wounded, the Holy See will take you in, no questions asked.”
“Universal healthcare?” Heath asked. “Now I know this is a fantasy world.”
Gwen wandered away into the kitchen. The rich, aromatic smell of coffee wafted into the room.
Elian continued, “If you want anything crafted, that’d be the Vulkan Consortium. They’re the preeminent crafters. If you get an item with their seal on it, they’ll service it for the life of the owner.”
“Don’t you mean the life of the item?” Heath asked.
Elian looked at him. “No.” He turned back to Mel. “The Circle consists of Mages and practitioners of magical arts. If you find a new spell, you’ll want to let them know. The Mages can be…particular about people practicing unlicensed magic. They maintain the ring networks that link realms and distant reaches together. They also manage the portals and pretty much anything else magical.”
Mel frowned. “Hold up. What do you mean ‘unlicensed’?”
“Only licensed Mages are permitted to create or use non-standard magic spells. I must confess, I don’t use much magic myself beyond the standard set my class is awarded. You would have to take it up with them.”
“Sounds restrictive,” Gwen said, carrying a tray of various coffee drinks into the room. Some were topped with whipped cream, sprinkled with cinnamon, and drizzled with various sauces. Others were blended into frozen drinks layered with chocolate and pumpkin syrup.
She adjusted the settings on the tray. Circles glowed to life beneath the mugs and glasses. Blue for cold, red for warm.
Heath was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. “Is there a magical school?”
“Of course,” Elian said. “There are many schools and universities that would be happy to have a First Champion among their ranks. They might even offer a waiver for some of the tuition. Then again, finding a sponsor might be easy enough to avoid that.”
Heath’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“By my count, we’re missing two Grand Orders,” Mel said to put them back on track.
Somehow, I doubt my scrap ritual is considered normal. I haven’t seen or heard of anybody having a similar spell, even though it’s such a low tier.
Mel had to remind herself that just because it was G-Tier and Common rarity didn’t mean that it was literally common. The rarity was just another marker for power.
“Correct,” Elian said. “The other two are less concerned with the competitors of the Convocation, however. The Monster Menagerie cares only for finding–and sometimes hunting–monsters of prodigious power and rarity. Meanwhile, the Adventurers aim to explore every nook and cranny of the multiverse.”
“Both sound like they would be interested in the Convocation,” Mel pointed out.
“Yes, but not in the competitors. You see, the Convocation opens up old and ancient pathways to places that have been lost to time. Entire worlds appear. Dungeons and Towers that didn’t exist suddenly pop up in the middle of a peaceful field or even below a quiet village. That attracts the attention of both the Menageries and the Adventurers. So, you see, they’re very interested in the Convocation, just not the competitors.”
“Their loss,” Mel said. “So I can expect a visit from the Mages and the crafters then?”
“They are likely to send a representative,” Elian agreed. “Do you have any idea which you will take up?”
Mel shook her head. “That’s not for me to decide right now. Plus, it depends on what they’re offering. The first one who doesn’t try to cheat me or shortchange me is going to get a massive lead on the others.”
There was no way to know if Elian would report to the Grand Orders, but in Mel’s mind, it would be a good idea to plant the seed. If he was angling to get something more than runes of experience for doing his job, then he would want to sell the information to the highest bidder.
That meant the Grand Orders.
And what better way to pit them against each other for Mel’s gain than to let it be known that she is looking for an honest partner.
None of them will be honest. That much she knew for sure, but if they thought they couldn’t get away with much because some other Grand Order might be straight with her, all the better.
“If you don’t mind, I think we’d like to get cleaned up,” Mel said, giving Elian a definitive look.
“Right.” He stood up and looked at the door. “Should you need my assistance, please ask an attendant and they will get me. I am not important enough to have a calling crystal, unfortunately. While I’m out, I’ll make sure the other Magi are brought here.” He paused, looking around. “For what it’s worth, I hope you continue your winning streak. I know it sounds like a useless platitude, but it’s true. You’re different from what I was expecting, and for that, I’m glad.”
Once he was gone, Mel hopped up. “I’m going to scrub the filth of glory and awesomeness off my hot bod before the other Magi get here. You know how they can be. They’ll smell the awesome on me and get all defensive.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I smell,” Gwen said.
Heath sniffed himself. “I kinda smell like a hospital.”
Mel rolled her eyes and went off on her newest journey: finding a shower with plenty of hot water and pressure.
