A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

The portal's light faded, leaving them standing in a cramped basement that smelled of old stone and dampness. Wooden crates lined the walls, and a narrow staircase led upward toward what he hoped was street level. The transition from the cavern's mystical atmosphere to this mundane storage space felt jarring.

"Well, that's not quite what I expected," Rannek muttered, adjusting his grip on their bound prisoner. The Praxis leader hung unconscious between Kael and Rannek, his arms secured with rope and his mouth gagged. The simple bindings looked almost inadequate for someone who had wielded such dark influence, but they had held throughout the journey.

"The portal was never meant for comfort," Marta replied, checking her weapons. "Just transport. Where are we exactly?"

He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, feeling for the familiar pulse of energy he had learned to associate with the Library. There, stronger than he had ever felt it before, like a warm current flowing through the stone above them.

"Close," he said, opening his eyes. "Very close. I can feel the Library from here."

They climbed the narrow stairs, emerging into an alley between two large stone buildings. The architecture was grander than anything in Aldermere, with carved facades and tall windows that spoke of the capital's wealth and importance.

"Which way?" Kael asked, scanning the street for potential threats.

He pointed toward a massive building visible beyond the rooftops, its towers reaching toward the sky like stone fingers. "There. I can feel it calling."

The Library's main branch was even more impressive than the one in Highpass. Where that building had been grand, this was magnificent, a testament to the kingdom's dedication to knowledge and learning. Broad steps led up to doors that could have admitted a giant, and the walls were covered in intricate carvings depicting scenes of discovery and wisdom.

Inside, the scale was breathtaking. The main hall soared overhead, filled with the soft murmur of scholars and the rustle of turning pages. Shelves stretched up toward a ceiling lost in shadow, and reading alcoves provided quiet spaces for contemplation. But beneath it all, Kaelid felt the same presence he had encountered in Highpass, ancient, vast, and aware.

"How do we find the research rooms?" Marta asked quietly. "This place is enormous."

Before he could answer, Lexicon stirred in his satchel, pressing against his side with unusual warmth. He pulled out the journal, and words began to appear on its previously blank pages in elegant silver script:

The old one welcomes you back young seeker. Your return was anticipated. Follow the eastern corridor to the third alcove. A door will be provided.

"It knows we're here," he whispered, showing the others the message. "The Library remembers us."

They made their way through the hall, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons but nothing more. At the third alcove, Kaelid paused, running his hand along the wall until he felt the familiar tingle of energy.

A section of the wall shimmered, and a door appeared, not the grand entrance he had expected, but a simple wooden door that looked as if it had always been there. He pushed it open, and they stepped into a circular room that took his breath away.

This was like the research room in Highpass, but larger and more elaborate. The carpet was deeper, the shelves more extensive, and the central desk seemed to glow with its own inner light.

"Incredible," Rannek breathed, looking around at the empty shelves that seemed to shimmer with potential.

He approached the desk, and immediately the surface lit up with a soft, welcoming glow. Text began to appear on Lexicon's pages:

You have returned with companions and a burden. The corrupted one you carry poses no immediate threat in this space, but his presence disturbs the deeper harmonies. What assistance do you require?

"We need somewhere secure to hold him," he said aloud, knowing the Library would understand. "And we need to reach the Duke. There's a conspiracy that goes deeper than we first realized."

More text appeared: The prisoner will be contained. A holding chamber exists beneath this room, warded against both physical and mental intrusion. As for the Duke, that presents greater challenges. The noble district has been sealed due to recent troubles in the eastern territories.

"What kind of troubles?" Kael asked, his military training evident in the sharp attention he paid to the information.

Coordinated attacks on supply lines and communication routes. The Duke believes them to be the work of bandits, but the patterns suggest deeper organization. Your prisoner may hold answers to these questions.

He exchanged glances with his companions. After what they had learned about the Praxis conspiracy, random bandit attacks seemed unlikely to be truly random.

"Can you help us reach the Duke?" he asked.

Not directly. But there is another consciousness in the capital that might serve as intermediary. The Duke's palace can grant access to the district, but you would have to gain its attention, and prove to it that your information is vital. Your ability to reach out mentally would allow contact.

"The Sturm Marshal?" he repeated, remembering the gruff, military-minded presence he had encountered during his evaluation at the Praxis facility. "I've spoken with it before."

Indeed? That will make this easier if it had a positive impression of you previously. This prior contact may prove advantageous. Go to the checkpoint and if they deny you access then attempt to contact the palace mentally though at that range it will be difficult.

The floor near the back of the room began to glow, and a section slid aside to reveal a staircase leading downward.

Place the prisoner below. He will be held safely until needed.

Kael and Rannek carried the unconscious Praxis leader down the stairs, emerging into a small chamber with walls that seemed to hum with contained energy. They placed him on a simple cot, and immediately the air around him shimmered, forming a barrier that was invisible but unmistakably present.

When they returned to the research room, more text had appeared in Lexicon:

The prisoner is secured. His consciousness is suppressed but intact, he will be able to answer questions when awakened. The noble district checkpoint is approximately two miles through the merchant quarter. Security has been increased due to the troubles.

"We should go now," Marta said decisively. "The longer we wait, the more time the conspiracy has to react to our prisoner's disappearance."

You will not be entirely alone, appeared in the journal as Lexicon chittered. I will maintain connection with the old one across the city. Guidance can be provided if needed.

"Thank you," he said aloud, feeling somewhat foolish for speaking to a room. But the warmth that pulsed through the air in response felt like a gentle embrace.

They made their way back through the Library's main hall and out into the capital's busy streets. The city was larger and more complex than Highpass, with districts that seemed to flow into each other like layers of sediment. The merchant quarter bustled with activity, traders hawking goods from across the kingdom, artisans displaying their crafts, and the constant flow of people going about their daily business.

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But as they moved closer to the administrative district, the atmosphere changed. More soldiers were visible, standing at intersections and patrolling in small groups. Their presence wasn't oppressive, but it was noticeable, a reminder that the kingdom faced challenges beyond its borders.

"They're expecting trouble," Kael observed quietly, noting the professional way the soldiers positioned themselves and scanned the crowds.

"Or trying to prevent it," Marta replied. "Look at how people move around them. Respectful, but not afraid. These are protectors, not occupiers."

The checkpoint itself was more impressive than Kaelid had imagined. A stone gatehouse spanned the road, with heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron bands. Guards in polished armor flanked the entrance, and more soldiers were visible on the walls above. A small crowd of people waited in line, presenting papers and credentials to a sergeant who examined each document with meticulous care.

"This is it," he said, feeling his heart rate increase. "Once we approach those guards, there's no going back."

They joined the line, watching as person after person was either waved through or politely turned away. The sergeant was professional but thorough, and it was clear that entry to the noble district was not granted lightly.

When their turn came, Kael stepped forward with military bearing. "Sergeant, we request an audience with His Grace on a matter of urgent security."

The sergeant looked them over with experienced eyes, taking in their youth, their lack of obvious credentials, and their nervous energy. "And you are?"

"Kael of the Collegium Militus, formerly of the Third Regiment. These are my companions. We have information regarding the troubles in the eastern territories."

"Information from whom? What unit are you currently assigned to?"

"I am not currently serving, Sergeant, just a civilian now. But the information we carry is vital to the Duke's understanding of the situation."

The sergeant's expression didn't change, but he could see the man's patience beginning to wear thin. "Son, I get a dozen people a day claiming to have vital information for His Grace. Unless you have credentials, a letter of introduction, or some other proof of legitimacy, I can't help you."

He felt his heart sink, but Marta stepped forward smoothly. "Sergeant, we understand your position completely. We wouldn't want to waste His Grace's time with frivolous claims. Perhaps we could step aside for a moment to discuss our options?"

The sergeant nodded curtly. "Step to the side, then. Next!"

They moved away from the checkpoint, finding a narrow side alley between two administrative buildings. The space was cramped but private, shielded from the main thoroughfare by the bulk of the stone structures.

"Well, that went about as expected," Kael said grimly. "What now?"

"Now we try the Library's suggestion," Kaelid replied, though his voice carried more confidence than he felt. "I need to try reaching the Sturm Marshal from here."

"From here?" Rannek looked skeptical. "The palace must be miles away. You've never tried to reach that far before."

"I've never had to," he admitted. "But the Library said it was possible, and the Sturm Marshal knows me. It's our best chance."

Marta positioned herself at the mouth of the alley, keeping watch. "How long do you need?"

"I don't know. Maybe several minutes? This isn't like talking to Curio or even reaching the Library. The Sturm Marshal is... different. Older. More distant."

He found a spot where he could lean against the alley wall and closed his eyes. He tried to center himself the way Elder Myra had taught him, finding that quiet space within where his consciousness could expand beyond the boundaries of his physical form.

At first, there was nothing but the noise of the city, the clatter of cart wheels on cobblestones, the calls of merchants, the general hum of thousands of people going about their daily lives. He pushed past the surface chaos, reaching deeper, stretching his awareness toward the noble district and the palace beyond.

The distance was daunting. In Aldermere, he could sense Curio from across the village, and in Highpass, the Library had been only a few buildings away. But the palace was on the far side of the capital, separated by miles of stone and humanity. He felt his consciousness strain against the distance like a rope pulled taut.

Minutes passed. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air in the alley. The effort was enormous, like trying to shout across a vast canyon and hoping for an echo.

Then, just as he was beginning to think it was hopeless, he felt something. Not the Sturm Marshal itself, but the edges of its presence, a sense of ancient stone and unwavering duty that was unmistakably familiar.

Sturm Marshal, he called out mentally, putting every ounce of his will behind the contact. I am Kaelid of Aldermere. We met during my evaluation at the Praxis facility. I need to speak with you.

For long moments, there was nothing. Then, faint as a whisper carried on the wind, came a response.

Boy who speaks mind to mind without ritual or preparation. The mental voice was distant, strained by the enormous gap between them, but unmistakably the same gruff presence he remembered. You reach far for one so young. What brings you to my domain?

Relief flooded through him, though he tried to keep his mental voice steady. We have uncovered a conspiracy within the Praxis. Rogue agents were conducting unauthorized experiments on the underground Network, using mind parasites to control people. We have their leader prisoner, and the information he carries may explain the troubles in the eastern territories.

There was a long pause, and Kaelid could feel the Sturm Marshal's incredulity even across the vast distance. Mind parasites? Underground networks? These are serious claims, boy. What proof do you offer?

The prisoner is secured at the Library's main branch. The Library itself can vouch for our story and his containment. We also have evidence of the experiments, crystal formations that were being used to amplify the parasites' influence.

The Library... The surprise in the mental voice was palpable. You have made contact with the Library? That ancient creature rarely involves itself in current affairs.

It helped us escape the caverns where the experiments were taking place. It recognized the threat the parasites posed to the Network.

Another long pause. he could feel the strain of maintaining the connection across such a distance, like holding a heavy weight at arm's length. His head was beginning to ache, and he could taste copper in his mouth.

These claims are... difficult to believe, the Sturm Marshal finally responded. But your ability to reach me at this distance suggests capabilities beyond the ordinary. And the troubles in the east have indeed followed patterns that suggest coordination rather than random banditry.

Will you grant us audience with the Duke? he asked, hoping his desperation didn't show in his mental voice.

I will... consider it. But first, you must understand the delicacy of the situation. The Duke has been under considerable pressure regarding the eastern troubles. False information or wild theories could damage his ability to respond effectively.

I understand. But this isn't a wild theory. We have proof, and we have the person responsible for coordinating at least part of the conspiracy.

The connection wavered, and Kaelid felt the Sturm Marshal's presence beginning to fade.

Very well, came the distant response. I will inform the guard captain that you are to be escorted to the palace. But know this, young one, if your claims prove false, if you waste the Duke's time with fantasies and speculation, there will be consequences.

Thank you.

Do not thank me yet. Prove your words with deeds, and then we shall see.

The connection snapped, leaving him gasping and swaying against the alley wall. The sudden absence of the Sturm Marshal's presence felt like stepping from a warm room into winter cold. His head pounded, and his vision swam with dark spots.

"Kaelid!" Rannek caught his arm as he started to slide down the wall. "Are you all right?"

"I'm... I'm fine," he managed, though his voice was hoarse. "Just need a moment."

Marta hurried over from her position at the alley mouth. "Did it work? Were you able to make contact?"

"Yes," he said, accepting Rannek's help to stand upright. "The Sturm Marshal will tell the guard captain to escort us to the palace. But it wasn't easy to get the message across. The distance... it's like trying to have a conversation while shouting across a storm."

"But it worked," Kael said with satisfaction. "That's what matters."

They made their way back to the checkpoint, where he was relieved to see the same sergeant still on duty. The man looked up as they approached, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to surprise as a young officer appeared at his shoulder.

"Sergeant Morrison," the officer said, his voice carrying the crisp authority of the Duke's personal staff. "You will escort these individuals to the palace immediately. His Grace will see them at once."

The sergeant's demeanor changed instantly, snapping to attention. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"

As they were ushered through the checkpoint and into the noble district beyond, Rannek leaned close to him. "How did you convince it? The Sturm Marshal, I mean."

"I told it the truth," he replied quietly, still feeling drained from the mental effort. "About the conspiracy, about the Library, about everything we've learned. It was skeptical, but I think it's been seeing signs that something was wrong with the eastern troubles."

"And it believed you?"

He thought about the ancient presence he had touched, the sense of duty and honor that had radiated from it even across the vast distance. "I think it wants to believe us. I think it's been waiting for someone to provide answers to questions it's been asking."

The palace loomed ahead of them, its towers reaching toward the sky like stone fingers grasping for the heavens. As they approached the main gates, Kaelid could feel the Sturm Marshal's presence growing stronger, not the faint echo he had touched in the alley, but the full weight of an ancient consciousness that had stood guard over this place for centuries.

You have arrived, came the mental voice, clearer now that they were within the palace's sphere of influence. The Duke awaits in his private study. Do not disappoint me, young one.