NOVEL NEXT 143 - Archmund Wants to Just Do Something
"So what are we doing now?" Archmund asked, once they had entered the townhouse, past three sets of locks.
"Now? We lounge about in this second home of ours as you process all of the wonders you've seen so far," his father said. "I still remember the first time I came to the Capital in my youth. I was so shocked to realize there were so many people in this world that I understood my place in the cosmic order of all things, and why the Omnio held the rank they did."
The streets hadn't seemed that dense, but Archmund had been raised on the urban density of Earth's greatest cities.
It seemed that the Lord Reginald Granavale was satisfied bringing his son to the capital and then secluding him in the safety of their home, so that no one could see or threaten him
"…That's it?"
"You have the wherewithal for exploration?" his father said. He seemed actually surprised. "I was overwhelmed. I had to take the better part of the week to relax and convalesce!"
"Surely you jest, father. I assure you that I am fine."
"I am tired, son. I require rest after so many days of travel."
Archmund didn't feel tired in the slightest. On Earth, he'd always feel drained after long car rides or train rides, even though he was sitting mostly still. From what he understood, he unconsciously shifted and tensed his muscles in order to compensate for unevenness in the motions of the vehicle.
"I'm fine. Is it my youth?"
"I had to feed my magic to the city, son," his father said, and if Archmund was the paranoid type he might have imagined he was annoyed. "But I suspect your inexperience overrules your brilliance. Your body may not feel the strain, but what of your mind? Your magic? All travel drains the body and spirit."
That was a philosophical thing to unpack and a half, but he could do that later. Archmund was 90% sure that even the Romans understood the concept of a "vacation" for "leisure". Maybe his father just didn't think of the Capital as a place for play.
Archmund reached out to his magic, reaching out for his Gems. For a second, he felt a sudden shocking emptiness, a great gulf between where his Gems were and where he was, as if something had gone horribly wrong — but then he remembered that he'd left most of his Gems back in Granavale County, a good distance away.
The power was muted yet accessible. There was some binding, some channel of his soul. Even separated physically, his soul was connected, and a part of him was in the Gems. He kept the Skills they gave him and could cast them from the Gems he'd brought with them, but the sensation was weird. Like depersonalization, like viewing the great achievements of his life but thinking them hollow, like looking upon a fond memory.
Gemmy. Status update?
Minimal impact, but your father is correct — you've passively drained 2-3% of your energy from your Gems into your body. Without rest, that power won't regenerate.
2-3% wasn't a lot, but for not doing anything? It was a lot.
"I am also a little drained."
"That's the true shock of wonder," his father said approvingly — or was it smug and superior? "You stop paying attention to that which was obvious to you back home. You lose track of who you are and what you value, where you came from and where you want to be going, easily bedazzled by the beauty and lights of the city."
"I hadn't even realized," Archmund said. "How is that possible? I thought the magic was a part of me. How could I not see the depletion?"
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"As easily as a king forgets the far flung reaches of his kingdom. He is the kingdom, and yet his eyes cannot be upon it all at once; he assumes its health and takes it for granted, and only notices once that health starts to fade."
Archmund nodded pensively. He wasn't so sure he agreed with that, but now that he was aware of it, there was something about the power in his distant Gems. There was some block between it and his mind, his spark, the automatic transformation of his power into a Skill and its manifestation in the outside world, like the barrier that led to procrastination on tasks — insurmountable until breached, and then much more natural.
At least that's how it felt. He hoped he was right, that he could draw on that power, if he had to, but it wasn't automatically load balancing between his Gems. He would be drawing on his own power and the Gems he'd brought with him at first, so it was probably best that he avoid getting into any fights until he was sure that all his power was accessible.
"Regardless, we should rest," his father said. "There is nothing dangerous in this house, but do take care while looking around."
"Tomorrow, then?" he said.
"…Yes. We can speak of this matter more tomorrow," his father said.
Archmund climbed to the highest level of the townhouse. It was only three stories high, like all the townhouses around it. Not five streets away, there were impossibly high skyscrapers, all glowing with Gemlight. Even though night had fallen, the city glowed with the muted colors of the rainbow.
He couldn't see the stars from the light pollution, and he felt as if the towers loomed upon him, trapping him in the maze. From here, he couldn't imagine the brilliant verdure of the Elysian Wall let alone the wilderness beyond it.
This was a real and proper city, lit up by magic and the unrelenting force of human labor.
"I thought you might be up here," his father said. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Archmund nodded. "It's very beautiful. Like the rainbow bound upon earth."
From the distance, it was impossible to make out each of the individual Gems that provided the material-altering Enchantments for the buildings. They all blended together into an endless sea of rainbow light, supported by the rainbow geysers of the Gem-conduits that ran through every street and up every high-rise.
Every single one of those had been harvested from the ghosts of the dead. Every single one of those had to be painstakingly maintained by a dedicated lesser noble.
Necessity was the mother of invention. And with so many available Gems and so many hands to work them, there was no need to make structures that could stand on their own.
Or perhaps there was a disincentive, even. Perhaps there was a very good reason to ensure that many of noble blood were trapped in busywork, pouring bits and pieces of their power into the buildings that surrounded them. Perhaps that gave them a sense of purpose that obscured the overt dominance of the greatest fixture of the skyline.
"That's the Imperial Palace, I assume?" Archmund said, pointing at a massive tower that blotted out half the sky. Gem-conduits ran up its sides, too many to count, as opposed the solitary one that most buildings had.
"I didn't realize we were so close to it."
"This is an older part of the city," his father said. "A historical district. It was originally the home of the Patricians, and over the years their blood has been diluted, and their claims with it… ours is an old family, Archie. Our name may be recent, our lands might be newly-claimed compared to our urban holdings — a thousand years is nothing next to twice that — but we can trace direct male line descent to the Patricians."
Archmund swallowed. "Surely there are many who can."
He was doing it again, he realized. Trying to convince himself that he wasn't special, against a mountain of evidence that he was, because if he believed it he got cocky and careless.
"Of course there are many," his father said with a laugh. "But that legitimacy is the only reason we get this home. It's what even allowed me to get into Marcus Omnio's good graces in the first place. That proximity."
"And yet there's still one more wall," his father said. "One more wall that separates the Capital from the palace proper. With all the same security measures as the rest."
"I would only imagine so," Archmund said. "You wouldn't want anyone who could pose a threat to the Emperor, even in a freak accident, to be anywhere near them."
"Which is a declaration of absolute confidence from the entire Imperial Family, son," his father said.
"…how so?"
It was an impressive bit of subterfuge, maybe. Of tactics and strategy. But confidence? Surely it was the opposite? Or maybe his father meant it was total confidence in their legitimacy, that they could demand all their possible opposition be debased, neutered, emasculated to even be in their presence?
"The City itself is in a wonderful location for trade. Gentle rivers. Good land. Edenic climate. But no paradise lasts forever. The Imperial Palace is not maintained by the same forces that keep the city standing, but by the will of the Emperor and that which lies beneath — the Imperial Dungeon."