Heir of the Fog

Power of Names

History is studded with documents that bent the course of civilization, our constitution among them, which sets the bounds of what is lawful. In recent years, the most consequential text is Lirien Elrod's Proclamation of the Refoundation of Araksiun as New Araksiun. Her life ended soon after it was issued. Yet, the proclamation furnished her son, Tarin Elrod, with a casus belli to seize the route along the Via Appia toward District 96, the sole producer of batteries.

Under that banner, his actions seemed justified to those he governed. Step by step, Tarin leveraged control of battery supplies to draw people to his cause of unification.

District 96, alone in its manufacture of batteries, grew dependent on New Araksiun for shipments it had once received from other districts without the need for chainrunners. By means of agreements whose terms remain speculative, the district dissolved its council and elevated a single family to rule, which pledged allegiance to New Araksiun not as a neighboring district but as a vassal state.

Why this quasi-monarchical order was so readily accepted is difficult to say. Many believe the decisive influence was not Tarin's but that of his adoptive brother, Omen Elrod.

People in District 97 claim Omen slew a giant serpent of legend, raised walls of ice from thin air and called forth things that ought not be. Whether any of these tales is true, their effects are indelible. Those who participated in the rebellion that toppled District 98's council speak similarly, describing Omen not as a man but as a creature of myth. Though he neither refounded Araksiun nor ruled it, and has long since vanished into the fog, the weight of his name remains one of the strongest pillars of New Araksiun; some even believe he will one day come back.

Excerpt from Elrod Dominion by Elina Ferrin, Librarian of District 98

The gardens of the D'Velmont estate were always beautiful, even in winter. Little sunlight reached the ground, so banks of glass globes emitted a gentle white glow that kept the beds alive, despite their high maintenance costs.

In the early morning, nobles from other houses brought their children to breathe what passed for fresh air in District 99. Today was no different. Children darted along narrow paths bordered by shallow grassy berms, the low green ridges faintly shimmering under the garden lights.

Frost clung to the iron trellises, and the heating stones ticked as they cooled. Beyond the ward, the fog sat like a sleeping beast.

"No, Omen, not that way," Selene D'Velmont called out as she gathered her skirts and ran after a child, who kept on without a care.

"Omen, come here or…" She let the word hang. The unknown was threat enough. Omen slowed, scuffed to a stop, and looked back.

Selene led him back toward me. Omen kept close to her, wary of her displeasure. "Children this age, you know how it is," captain Cairen D'Velmont said at my elbow. "Soon, his name alone will call up obedience. Just wait."

"To be completely honest, I don't know," I told him as we watched both Selene and the little Omen. "Training was all I knew at his age."

It was the truth. My mother, Lirien, hadn't been like Selene. The fog surely stripped away any compassion she might have once had. However, my wife, Selene, never faced the fog, which was why I trusted her more than myself to raise our boy.

We named him Omen, after my long lost brother.

"I know, I know—Elrods as always," Cairen said, lifting his cup. It was early, but highborn men like him kept no clock for wine. "Still, the boy is D'Velmont too. He is exactly as I was at his age. But tell me, what did your brother do when he was this small?"

The wine had an aroma of dark fruit and spice, creating an unexpected warmth in the cold garden air. A gardener, seemingly oblivious to our presence, was clipping with shears in a steady rhythm. A clear act by someone pretending not to notice our conversation.

A spy?

No, his mannerisms gave him away far too easily. This man was simply curious to hear what I had to say about my lost brother, something that often drew distant ears. His presence in the districts might always have been brief, but it wasn't forgotten.

I rubbed my chin and tried to count the years. I was unsure what exactly he was doing at this age. They called him the Bad Omen, the sign of ruin, because with him came the fall of many districts and a break with the lower ones. "I believe he made his first run at this age," I said, then paused and corrected myself. "No, actually, he was much younger, all the way from District 7 to 98."

We never confirmed his true origins, as he himself could not recall. However, since he did not arrive through the Via Appia, that left only one possibility according to our maps. This meant he must have traversed hundreds of miles through the fog or come from an unwarded district entirely.

Cairen coughed into his cup. "What? You cannot be serious, Tarin."

"He must have learned how to hide from the fog back then," I speculated.

Cairen recovered and grinned. "Then this little one will live through his legend. See? I told you it was a fine name for your first son."

He had been the one to convince me to name my son Omen, the legend of the districts. Eighteen years had passed since the day he vanished into the fog, yet people still spoke of him and the giant serpent he defeated.

They spoke even more of the frost golem he left behind, the Guardian of the districts. It stood as proof that he had lived, though his long absence sharpened every question about his fate.

My son and my marriage, however, were not chosen but born out of duty. Gaining control of District 96 was achieved within a few years, but the other two districts were far more complex. Unification demanded bloodshed, yet Cairen proposed something different.

Marriage, the union of two houses, Elrod and D'Velmont. My son would not only inherit my brother's name but also inherit the influence from both houses, allowing me to rule District 99. Cairen, as captain of the guard and the most powerful family in the district, made the process straightforward, needing only a few assassinations along the way, without any civilian casualties.

I didn't know what fearsome creature had killed my brother out there, yet that thought only pushed me toward my duty to guard the districts, to ensure we stood as one even as the beasts grew fiercer, day by day.

Selene approached me with our son by her side. "Stop running, Omen," she said softly. "Spend time with your father. He will not be here long."

"Really? But you only arrived yesterday," Omen said.

It was difficult to break my son's heart, since I saw him so rarely. He lived here in 99, and I in 98. Still, I would never put my child or my family at risk by bringing them into the fog. "Yes," I said. "In a few hours."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"But why? Can't you stay longer?" he asked, voice tight.

Cairen saw my trouble and stepped in. "He cannot," he told the boy. "Your father has duties. He is the Great Overseer."

Great Overseer, the unification of both the title of Overseer of District 98 and High Commander, a title that allowed me to draw the districts, piece by piece, under a single command.

Many called it a regression when we stepped back from councils into a monarchy with vassals, giving the noble families their due weight. Even so, that single line of command opened the way to growth where there had been none.

A bell chimed softly somewhere in the house. I watched my son's breath plume in the cold and wished the morning would last a little longer.

***

Back in District 98, our chainrunners unloaded the runic carts crafted by the genius Lucious himself. "No casualties," Leslo reported to me.

The runes carved into the cart frames still emitted a faint blue glow, even as the chainrunners detached the chains from their backs. Just a few meters beyond the ward, the beasts remained lurking in the fog. Some of them vainly attempted to breach the ward while arrows flew toward them.

The run was mostly uneventful. Although we did lose some members now and then, most casualties happened during hunts. The equipment manufactured at District 97 proved crucial against the beasts, significantly reducing our losses and enabling us to transport even more supplies in the new carts.

"Good," I told Leslo, my second in command.

I still missed Dain. Age claimed him as it did everyone fortunate enough to survive the fog. One night, he fell asleep and never woke up again. The years spared no one, well... almost no one. Still, Leslo was doing a marvelous job in his place.

"We also slew a few minor beasts along the way," Artemis, Leslo's sister, said as she wiped blood from her daggers.

Artemis, once a guard from District 97, became an Artifact Holder of a mysterious pair of daggers. She never revealed exactly what powers they possess, yet she often drew blood from beasts without being noticed, even by her fellow chainrunners.

She moved as quietly as falling snow, and even amid the bustle, men parted to let her pass.

Her talents were deeply employed in many assassinations in District 99 during the unification period, where bodies were never found. "Good. Send these to the dining halls. Rations are growing short this winter," I ordered.

They bowed and carried on with their duties. A few of our chainrunners were injured. Among them stood Gustav, the first chainrunner captain in District 98 not from House Elrod. He bore an artifact, yet had no enhancer, unlike most captains. "Getting slower?" I asked, smirking his way.

"Ha. A minor scratch," he said. "These new folk do not know how to switch between fighting and running. They fight too long, tire themselves out, forget to trade places with a rested partner, and then we have to save their asses."

The art of chainrunning was knowing when to trade the blade for the sprint and when to hand the fight to a rested comrade. Volunteers brought energy, but their bravado often courted grim fates. "Have them run twice as many drills," I said.

"I sure will," Gustav said. "But first I need to see the healer." His voice betrayed both his age and the lie of a minor wound. I suspected he had cracked a few ribs.

By healer, he clearly meant the healer, Meris herself. "Yes, you should," I said, then paused. "Now that I think about it, I should as well. It has been some time since I checked on her."

Together we walked toward what had once been Poltov's Herbs and Healing. Poltov was an old master herbalist who took Meris as his apprentice, and, strangely enough, his shop was the one my brother, Omen, had invested money in.

He never understood much about money or cared for it, so the reason behind that investment was always clear to me: he was taking care of Meris, as he often did.

When old Poltov died, the property came to me because he had no children of his own, and the only one with any claim was my deceased brother. So, I immediately transferred the property to Meris.

Over time, she expanded her business by acquiring the neighboring shops and transforming the place into Meris Herbs and Healing. Her fame only grew with time. She was, after all, a true magic healer. People from other districts sometimes even braved the fog with chainrunners to seek her when the cases were severe.

"Great Overseer," both guards at the shopfront said at once.

"At ease," I said, and went in with Gustav and a few injured chainrunners.

The air inside was warm and pungent, with the scent of mint and boiled bark. Bundles of dried plants hung from the rafters. Glassware lined the shelves, ranging from medicaments she created using magic to those made with the mundane.

"You again? Are you trying to get yourself killed out there?" Meris said when she saw Gustav.

The chainrunner's life did not favor the old. Gustav would soon have to pass the mantle to his son, or the fog would claim him as his injuries became frequent. "You know how it is. The young have no sense," Gustav complained, laying the blame elsewhere.

"You, mister, are the one without sense. Retirement is what you need," she said. It always amused me how Meris treated everyone who stepped into her shop the same, no matter their rank or fortune. Titles meant nothing to her. And even if someone took offense, where else could they go? There was no other magical healer like her, and her gift gave her the freedom to speak her mind to anyone.

Gustav merely nodded. He wouldn't argue with Meris after so many chainrunners had been saved by her.

She closed the shop whenever runs were scheduled to arrive, saving her mana so she could help more of us. Even so, it was not unusual to see her push past her limits.

"Not all of us have the blessing of life," I said, announcing myself when she seemed not to notice me. The blessing of life was what we called it, for she not only wielded life but seemed untouched by the years. Even at thirty-two, Meris still looked in her early twenties.

"Great Overseer? What are you… are you injured as well?" she asked.

"No," I said. "If I were, you would need many more people here." I carried the Dawnbreak Bow with the Arrow of Pure Light, a safeguard that dispersed most beasts in the fog. If I were wounded, it would mean I had used it and even that had not been enough.

It had happened twice since I took up this mantle, and both times came with the death of countless other chainrunners.

"Indeed, so don't scare me like that. I almost fainted," she said. "You know I don't have many herbs in winter."

"Herbs? Why would the great healer need herbs?" I asked jokingly.

"You—You know why," she said. "So why are you here? Did someone die? You know I can't bring back the dead," she added, her tone dry.

"No, and again, I have nothing to do with that. That is on Gustav," I replied.

Some time ago, a man from District 96 paid Gustav quite well to bring his dead wife to Meris, hoping that some of the exaggerated rumors were true. As expected, Meris wasn't happy when she received that… delivery.

Gustav shot me a look. "You didn't complain when I gave you the sack of coins."

"Because you had already done it," I said.

Meris glanced between us and then at the line of chainrunners forming behind. "Enough, you two. Anyone who wants treatment needs to hush," she said.

Just as she spoke, the shop shook and some of us dropped to our knees. Windows shattered, not just here but along the street. It was an earthquake unlike any we had experienced in Araksiun. The tremors did little to my balance; still, I rushed toward Meris to protect her from the falling glass flasks, which shattered and sent glass flying everywhere.

She fell, and I threw my cloak around her as shards rained down. If a single piece had cut her, I did not doubt my dead brother would have risen from his grave to hunt me. I reached her in time, even as the tremors grew stronger.

Outside, the earth gave way with a grinding roar; inside, people clung to the walls and tables, doing anything to stay upright. Mere seconds felt like an eternity.

"What is this?" Gustav muttered as the tremors steadied and, moments later, ceased.

"An earthquake. A big one, very big," I said, taking note of the damage to the shop. The walls held, but every glass vessel in the shop lay in glittering ruin, and their contents bled into one another across the floor. Meris's face went flat when she saw it.

"No, this wasn't an earthquake. It felt more like… something else," Gustav said, sending a chill through us. The last earthquake we experienced was nearly ten years ago, caused by a colossal beast that breached and devastated District 100.

But even that was nothing compared to this one.

I could do little but agree. That was no ordinary earthquake. It was something out there in the fog. Certainly, another of its terrible horrors was unleashed upon mankind, one far worse than those we had seen.