Grand Saint Alloy

“What do you mean I can’t take Luke?” Tristan complained.

You need to sneak in there not fight the whole city, “Commander Blacklake said, “stealth and that boy are opposites he throws around forsaken thunderbolts.”

Tristan grumbled, but there was not much he could do. Blacklake was right, and if this didn’t succeed, Plan B was just straight up kill his father. It felt weird going on a mission to save his dad’s life by kidnapping him, but it was necessary.

When the plan was first made, Tristan wondered whether or not Siren would be comfortable, killing Elder Forest. The idea of loyalty and honor seemed to be opposed to murdering a helpless victim. Surprisingly Siren had been fine with it. He had no qualms about killing someone who had done so much harm to the Caldera as his oath had been made to the people not any member of its leadership.

Tristan had wondered why the oath was worded that way it seemed like an issue for the elders to leave such a loose end. Elite warriors did have to swear to their specific elders, but the standard warriors needed to work with each other on the ramparts, so anything that would make them inherently, suspicious of each other‘s motives was counterproductive. Siren had noted that Elder Forest was unwilling to take counsel on multiple occasions while both Elder Lake and Elder River constantly asked for advice. In short, he saw this as removing a tyrant.

“ You don’t want a horse? “Blacklake asked.

“No, “Tristan answered, “ I can jog at around 30 miles an hour. Tier four is kind of fun.”

Blacklake gave the first smile Tristan had seen, “Must be nice being a superhuman. “

Tristan shrugged as he hefted his pack, “A year and a half ago I would’ve thought you were a superhuman. “

He had gone from tier zero to tier four in a record time. Unfortunately, the methods used weren’t repeatable on a large scale. It was akin to flipping a coin, if it came up heads he lived, tails he died. No matter how many times it came up heads, it only took one tail to spell death. This period had also been the most chaotic in the caldera’s history, except for its inception.

Outside of war breaking a kern had little benefit unless the person was tier two. Sure the extra strength was nice, but not worth the risk of death. Warriors lived a little longer, but Tristan chalked that up to the hardships of life impacting a stronger body less harshly. Forces might sway that number up or down, unfortunately, he had no knowledge of anyone who was both old and had a force.

“You should reach the Forest Caldera in about four hours, assuming you can actually maintain that pace,” Blacklake said, “Maintain your disguise, and remember your job.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, “I’m not inept, I just don’t care much for what the Elders think.”

He turned and strode toward the Forest Caldera with a maul in hand. Originally he had assumed that a cover story would be necessary. Maybe a farmer, or merchant. Both were rejected as, despite the relatively warm weather, it was still the middle of winter, and no crops were being grown. There were no merchants either because of the packs of elementals.

It would be less suspicious if he was carrying the tools of a lumberjack, at least when he was on the road. When he arrived at the Forest Caldera, there was no way to avoid being suspicious. While his rapid rise made his movements appear more like a tier two than the lithe lethality of the average tier four, there would not be many people coming and going from the city.

He was considering simply climbing the walls. They were meant to keep beasts out, not people. Making a pair of spikes should allow him to easily scale the wall, and he could just jump off the wall from there. The walls that had appeared very tall when he was young were a very manageable obstacle now.

The plan was for him to cause as much chaos as possible so that Siren could come in like a wrecking ball two days later. They would leave that same day in different directions. Tristan was also not going alone, Blacklake had already sent people into the Forest Caldera as soon as it fell, though none could offer any real backup in the case of a fight. While he could not be sure, Tristan assumed they were all between tier zero and two, not good at fighting, but they could still knock over a candle to burn a barrack or inn.

No one was even there to wave him off as he returned home. It was understandable, all of them had a bunch of stuff to accomplish. Luke was torturing Siren’s elite into breaking their kerns. Eve was doing something in administration and Kerri was wasting space. Not that he wanted Kerri here. It was an odd feeling, one that he did not like, but one that was also probably a good sign.

He sent a mental nudge to Vulcan, “You doing alright.”

The artifact was still silent. Conni had not been sure what was wrong, but his ancestor blade claimed that he looked injured. Tristan hoped that was something that would heal with time, but he could not be sure. If he did not heal, Tristan would need to leave the Caldera to see if an expert existed in another nation who could heal Vulcan. He owed the lamp at least that much.

With no more fanfare, Tristan started jogging. The pack he was wearing had a few important supplies and a load of more mundane items. A bed roll, several dried rations, a first aid kit filled with gauze, and a glass vial filled with a paralytic nerve toxin. He would use that to subdue his father and drag him out.

If anyone searched the bag, they would find nothing amiss. Maybe the lack of money would raise some eyebrows, but the value of a parce had dropped off a cliff with trade all but stopping. He had a rough cornsilk tunic and a straw hat, it was different from the cloth armor that most people had seen him in.

The pine trees passed quickly, the lack of snow making the trip faster. Most of the mud had hardened back into dirt, at least on the upper part of the Caldera. Both the Forest Caldera and the Stone Caldera were at a higher elevation than the Lake Caldera, so it was uphill all the way. Maybe he could just shove Shadow Fist in a barrel and roll him back.

Four hours later he arrived at the edge of the fields of grain. They were empty now, and a few cows grazed on whatever greenery they could find. Their handlers were nowhere in sight, the only thing stopping Tristan from simply walking off with one of them was the bored-looking guard dogs. He made a mental note of the vacancies and kept on running.

He continued towards the city. Originally he had been considering cutting his way through the sewer pit and making his way through the subterranean network to the Elder’s home. That was now impractical, as the guards had nothing to distract them from his approach. Tristan was not known for his stealth, his physical adaptation to a metal kern made it almost impossible for him to move without leaving any trace.

His weight had jumped another seventy pounds, making his body incredibly dense. Though now he was starting to realize why higher tiers moved differently. The control they exhibited was not due to their skill, but instead due to the fragility of their surroundings. If Tristan leaned against the wrong wall, he had a good chance of damaging it. Especially if it was a mud hut.

Without any other method of approach, Tristan simply jogged up to the gates. He slowed down to around base tier two speed, still a good thirteen miles per hour, but nothing these guards hadn’t seen before.

Predictably he was stopped, “Hold up, are you trying to dodge the draft.”

Tristan stared at him blankly. Both guards stared back, waiting for an answer. What should he say? Tristan was not going to be here long enough for a web of lies to be important. If all else failed he could just knock both guards out and enter anyway.

So he went with the truth, “I don’t know. Was a draft called, and for what?”

The two looked at each other before the larger one answered, “Lord Ajax has called a crusade to rid the Caldera of the infestation of devil worshipers at the Lake Caldera.”

Tristan tried to look as shocked as possible, he had thought that the knowledge of his survival was still unknown to the Lord of the Underworld, “What devils are they worshiping?”

“One served Elder Forest in his machinations to have Lord Ajax killed, and the other you may have heard of,” The man leaned in conspiratorially, “They call him the lightning devil. He can kill people with a glance.”

Lighting devil? Why had Luke never bragged about that title? The other had to be Siren, no one else had conspired to kill The Lord of the Underworld. Ironically, they did not have to march to war to find the only silver devil in the Caldera.