B6 Chapter 651: Cross-group Training

Kaius, Helena, and Persellia were leaning up against the far wall of an underground Guild training hall, while the rest of their teams went through a training exercise. Low roars and clashing steel sounded in the middle of the room as Nemtep hurled knives at Porkchop’s head. Porkchop was playing keep-away, trying to stop Gars and Nemtep from slipping past him to tag Ianmus or Kenva. He was doing better than his first attempt earlier in the week.

It had been a few days since getting their measurements taken for their new armour and having lunch with the duke. Most of it had been filled with training — though Ianmus had taken a day to spend time with Kanmost, and vanished into the library for a few hours every evening since. Other than that, they’d been browsing the markets for the various goods that might make their future travels a lot easier. Basic sundries had been sorted quickly, as had other necessities like rope, and even oddities like a medium sized wagon that Porkchop could pull if they ran into a mass casualty event and needed some way to transport thirty wounded in a hurry. And the Pegleg was already full. Or something.

Really, it had just been fun to put a wagon in the Voidvault. It didn’t even cost a full platinum!

Other things had been more difficult to procure. Second-tier artefacts were not common, nor where they sold at any old arms dealer on the street. Worse, the ones they already had were pretty decent. Even the Guild hadn’t had anything that jumped out as good enough to justify the exorbitant cost.

They still had a few more leads, but Kaius wasn’t holding out hope. Besides, they had plenty of other things to spend money on. There were a lot of utility artefacts that could prove plenty helpful even to people of their strength.

Sprinting in, Gars leapt over Porkchop’s Ethereal Phalanx. In a single, fluid movement, Skill-borne speed sent a blurring Gars hurtling under his brother’s bulk. Porkchop stomped. Gars curved around the limb in defiance of momentum. A moment later, Ianmus yelped as the man slapped him on the back of the head.

“Again!” Porkchop demanded.

Kaius just smiled and shook his head. Despite it being a training exercise in rather unnatural circumstances, Porkchop had been getting rather frustrated with each loss.

“Can I see it?” Helena asked.

“Hmm?” Kaius replied, too focused on Porkchop hooking his claws around Gars’ waist and tossing the man across the room to catch what she said.

“The artefact you came back from the palace with.”

“Sure,” Kaius replied, slipping it free of his belt.

After the second time she’d gotten tagged, Kenva had left it with him for safe-keeping, insisting it was slowing her down. Nonsense, of course. It wasn’t that heavy, and it was compact — but he was wise enough not to argue.

Hefting the scroll case, Helena let out a low whistle. Persellia leaned in, getting a closer look.

“That’s nice,” Helena said.

“Too nice for half a dragon,” Persellia said, raising her brow as she read the description. “You the duke’s man, now?”

“It was three hundred thousand!” Kaius protested.

Now Helena’s brow shot up. “It’s worth a lot more than that in an open auction. I can respect it, some offers are too good to refuse.”

Kaius sighed, taking the Voidvault back when it was offered. “It wasn’t like that. Well, not really — he did have a motive.”

“Knew it,” Persellia replied.

“He’s named us friend of the House, and wants us to leverage it. He’s banking on us reaching Mythril. That, and he gave us a stack of letters to keep him informed if we discover anything that might interest or involve him on our journey to and through the Shardworld.”

Twin shouts rang out through the stone training hall, followed shortly by a roar of triumph. Porkchop had perfectly timed a charge with Breaker of Men. Rising shards of orichalchum unsteadied Gars, right before Porkchop’s shoulder slammed into the man and sent him rocketing into his team mate. Both Gars and Nemtep went down in a flail of limbs, pinned in place by one massive paw.

Persellia shook her head at the show.

“You know, that actually makes sense. He told you that outright?” Helena asked.

“He did. Laid it all out on the table, really. It worked — damn hard to argue with a mutually beneficial plan.”

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“Cedric IV might have a reputation for being direct, but he has an even larger one for being shrewd,” Persellia said, watching the bout as their teams reset. “He was the sixth of eight children, you know? You don’t end up duke without being strong and clever, especially not in that position.”

Helena gave him a long look. “You aren’t worried about tactically supporting his reign? Greenseed might be rather mild, but the local nobility can still get vicious.”

He winced, that was exactly what he was worried about. “He’s mentioned a few plans that sound good to my ears — but you’re right. Still, if we do make it to Mythril, or Celestine, what’s he going to do? Say no if we ask him to stop being a prick?”

As soon as he said it, Kaius recognised the flaw in his plan. The others did too.

“That’s assuming you even hear about it in the first place. Be cautious, Kaius. Politics is a very old and very complex game. The duke just made a very large play, with very high stakes — and you and yours are the pieces on the board,” Helena warned.

“You think we made a mistake?” Kaius asked, frowning. The Vault felt just a bit heavier than normal in his hand.

Persellia snorted. “It’s a bit hard to call it a mistake when you walk away with a storage artefact like that.”

“Persellia has a point,” Helena agreed. “I don’t think you have made a grave error — but recognise that you should be careful, intentional, and aware when using your own name in the same sentence as Flowers. By all means, use your letters, keep the man informed, and even support the man's reign if it benefits you. The gods’ know there are worse rulers out there. But make sure it is for your benefit, or you might find yourself a retainer in all but name.”

Kaius nodded, troubled. They hadn’t made any oaths, so they weren’t bound in any real way. What the duke offered was more than reasonable — some level of reform in return for a relationship of some level of mutual benefit. On the other hand, Helena was right. How easy would it be for these ‘academies’ to become nothing more than another tool to entrench the advantages of the already powerful?

Very. It would be very easy. One only had to look at the Spire academies in Mystral to confirm that much. Sure, if they were strong enough, they could force change — but what if they never knew? They could well be busy with the integration, embroiled neck deep in whatever challenges the System deigned to hurl at them in the future. But the duke would be risking an awful lot for uncertain gain if they did find out.

Kaius groaned, turning the thought over and over in his head. Life certainly had been simpler when he was some no-name nobody in the ass-end of the Frontier.

….

Amber light spilled in through the windows of their suite's main room, the slice of visible sky still tinged pink with dawn. Kaius yawned, padding his way across the room, his feet sinking into the plush carpet. It felt like woven clouds.

Making his way to the small kitchen, he poured himself some water and enjoyed the crisp chill as he stared out into the tangled blooms of their private garden. It wasn’t long till breakfast — they’d asked for it early.

Ambling out of their bedroom, Porkchop collapsed down onto the over-sized couch, his head hanging off the end next to the breakfast table. Somehow, it held up — though the floor did bounce.

It had been a week and a half since Helena had warned him to be cautious, and no amount of training or preparation was enough to keep him from feeling restless. That quiet churn in the pit of his belly had only intensified yesterday. They’d gotten news that another greater gate to the Shardworld had been found. On the other side of the continent. Again.

At least their funds from the dragon carcass had cleared, so they were rich. That was nice enough.

Running the tap, Kaius splashed some magically chilled water over his face and sighed. He made his way to the breakfast table, patting Porkchop warmly on the side as he passed the couch.

Across the room, the door to Kenva’s room swung open silently. The ranger stepped out. She was in her armour, their new Vault belted on her waist, and had her bow slung over her back. Her old bow.

The sight of it made Kaius remember the Hiwiann caravan that was supposed to arrive at the city that very morning.

“Do you want some company?” Kaius asked.

Kenva shook her head. “Best I do this myself. The Bloodstones are sacred, so some Hiwiann don’t like discussing them with people outside of the culture. Given the nature of my news, it’ll be easier this way.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure — but thanks for offering.”

Sliding into the kitchen, Kenva carved into a loaf of bread that was left over from last night’s dinner and started stacking it with cold cuts and cheese. Ianmus left his own room as she did so, bleary eyed and holding up a hand to the morning sun.

“No time for breakfast?” he asked.

“I wish! I need to catch the caravan master before he vanishes into the city to make arrangements with the trade authority.”

“They move that fast?” Ianmus asked. “You’d think that they’d take their time, considering they’re arriving at dawn and have been riding through the night.”

Kenva shrugged, slathering a layer of chutney onto her bread. “It is what it is. They might not, but I'd rather avoid the possibility of chasing them over half the city to nail them down for a conversation. There’s a good chance they’ll be floating from meeting to meeting for the next few days to make purchases and sell off goods. Likely, they’ll want to reroute to cross paths with another caravan to chain the news back to the Steppe, so the sooner I catch the caravan master, the less money they’ll lose.”

She slapped her sandwich together and rushed out the door, waving to them as she left.

“Hope she’ll be alright,” Ianmus said, sliding into the seat next to Kaius.

“She’ll be fine,” Kaius replied. Their friend was tough, and she’d had plenty of time to settle with the news.

Moments later, a small bell chimed by the front door. Porkchop’s ear’s perked up, his nose twitching.

“Breakfast!”