Last Lord of the Fey (Progression Fantasy)

Reaching the graveyard, Tristan made his way past the rows of mausoleums. Standing at the entrance to the one he had sealed off with an ice wall, he saw two of the city guard – Demonkin standing at ready attention – holding a defensive posture with pikes crossed before the threshold. "Excuse me," Tristan said in Demon's Tongue, "I am Marius Lestrange. Lord Dalphatroux had me investigating the Feather Scourge."

The two guards looked at each other, then the one on the left spoke to his fellow. "Fancy Demonkin with the silvery armor and sword. Seems like him."

The one of the right nodded, "Yup. Looks like the guy." The two faced Tristan and raised their pikes out of the way, "Go on in. A few of the city guard are down there already. Just holler if you hear voices."

Tristan walked past them with a curt nod and made his way into the depths that he had just the day before day before sealed off. He could feel sleep drawing him inexorably onward, having been awake for well over a day now. Felicity seemed unperturbed by the lack of sleep, as she kept making frantic little paw-claw biscuits on his head. Deep inside the warrens of the tunnel network, she spoke. "That was a great plan! Having me fake being you was genius. I wish I had come up with it."

Tristan scratched her head, delighting in her praises and the little purrs she emitted from the scritches. He replied in the Standard Tongue, "You played me perfectly. A masterful blend of arrogant tone. I almost cracked."

"How many times?"

"Once," Tristan replied with a smile. "I thought you were going to say something really offensive and make me slip up."

She giggled, "Sorry. Next time I'll try harder."

"How about not making me chuckle when I'm supposed to be translating for Lord Winterbloom?" Tristan said as he poked her slightly in the side.

Felicity nodded, "Okay. Oh, that reminds me, been meaning to ask – why do you let everyone in the Fey Realm call you Lord Tristan? And at the Citadel, even. In fact…everywhere we've been except for the Demon Realm."

"Just another layer of safety precaution," Tristan replied. "Granted, in hindsight, I should have always used Lord Winterbloom…but honestly, having the reminder that I'm the last of my bloodline…" he trailed off for a moment, feeling the weight of that statement once more, then continued. "I am Tristan, first and foremost."

"Well, not right now, since right now, you're Marius Lestrange."

Tristan smiled, "True. Now hush in the Standard Tongue, I hear voices." Tristan's keen hearing had picked up the slight sound that now was clearly Demon's Tongue being spoken further ahead. He cleared his throat and spoke in kind, "Hey! Friendly, coming in!"

He heard a shout back, "Alright!"

Proceeding forward, Tristan came across a group of Demonkin. Two of them were dressed in white cloaks, with simple attire and vials strapped to their belts. Next to them were two of the city guard. One in a white cloak, a woman, turned to face Tristan. She had deep, cerulean eyes, deep blue skin, and her horns curled up from her head like a ram's, with long, silver hair flowing down the back.

"Ah, you must be the mercenary who identified this location. Silvery armor, fancy sword."

Tristan nodded, "Marius Lestrange, at your service."

"What are you doing down here?" one of the city guard asked.

"Just looking for clues as to the source of this plague. Yourselves?"

"The same," the woman replied. "My name is Turien Firin. You're welcome to search deeper, we are only just getting started down here." She sighed as her mouth tightened, "Only the infected were found down here. And corpses that had been cut apart. Those have all been taken for examination and then burning."

"Any ideas on where the Feather Scourge came from?" Tristan asked.

The male, white-cloaked figure, silent until that moment, spoke. "Yes…there are enemies of Lockwood, and the Dalphatroux house. Most likely, the Mericlau to the north."

"It could be from another Realm," Turien replied quickly. "I would judge given its feather-laden final appearance, that is more likely."

"Why not just ask a diviner?" Tristan asked. "Surely it would be easy to query with a divination spell."

Turien shook her head, "It's been attempted. The knowledge is well concealed; it does not exist in the Thought Realm."

"You know a bit about divination," Tristan replied.

"Well I should, I am one of the few diviners for the city of Lockwood," Turien replied haughtily.

Tristan nodded, spinning his crucible, and activated the Locate spell artificed inside the Archon's Favor. Once more, his sight entered that black, liminal space, and Logos' eye opened to gaze upon him.

"Lord Tristan…what do you seek?"

"I'm looking for the location of any clues that could lead to more information about The Feather Scourge."

Logos chuckled, "Some information that is very well concealed or not widely known, even I do not hold. But, no diviner in this matter has asked about locations that could lead to more insight. Diviners are almost all the same – they ask the question, and go with the answer they get, or think it is fruitless to attempt other spells when I reject their query for lack of essence or lack of knowledge itself."

Tristan saw the world painted around him, deep in a dark cavern that had a caved-in entrance. A small study, with papers, scrolls, and tables – all in varying states of having been burned. But, scraps and fragments remained. "Thanks," he said.

Logos' eye narrowed, "If you find out more information and willingly share it to others, it falls into my purview. Do unravel this mystery so I may add the new information to the Thought Realm."

The painted scene faded as Logos' eye shut, and Tristan blinked a few times as his body oriented itself to face forward, and he pointed slightly to the right. "There's a caved-in room with papers that have been burned."

Both white-cloaked individuals turned to face where he pointed, and Turien looked back at him. "How do you know that?"

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Tristan tapped his belt, "Artificed Locate spell. Instead of asking about the Feather Scourge, I asked where I could find clues leading to more information."

The woman frowned, and muttered, "That's unconventional," under her breath.

Tristan walked past them and began his descent down the slight slope, noting the few empty chambers that had been cleared out and seemingly scoured by fire – most likely, he reasoned, a means to purge the infection. Just in case, he spun his crucible faster and pushed essence into his armor, feeling the familiar tingle of the fortune spells. He also tucked his fist into his chest, with the thumb facing down and extended, and all other fingers curled in. He spoke in Elvish. "The best of luck to you. May the good fortune of the world grace you." The spell took hold immediately, and he could see faint wisps of green in the edges of his vision that vanished when he tried to look at them. And now, he thought, I'll have optimal outcomes thanks to Good Luck.

He kept walking for a good ten minutes and finally came upon a caved-in section that was well concealed as it looked like part of the natural rock wall. Looking back he watched as the white cloaked Demonkin and the two guards were close behind. "Well?" Turien asked.

Tristan pushed essence into his Pocket Dimension II amulet and grabbed his Starmetal Maul from the extradimensional space, pulling it out and flipping it so that the end that was more like a war pick was facing down. "Now, I get to dig a bit."

"Where'd you pull that from?" one of the guards asked.

"Artificed item," Tristan bluntly replied as he set to using the war pick side of the maul's hammer-head to smash through the collapsed rock and stone.

"You have a lot of those, don't you?" Turien asked.

Tristan let out a grunt as he pulled back and swung again, "Well…" another swing, and more rock came away. "I'm pretty good friends…with an Elf…and they can…artifice…plus…Citadel student…"

"Ah, that explains it. If not for my vows, I would visit and be a student for some time."

The other white-cloaked Demonkin stared at Turien with murderous intent, then looked back to Tristan. "You said you saw a location with burned up parchment. What do you hope to find?"

"I've got…fire elementalism…I've got a spell…to restore burned…objects." Tristan finally broke through and a singed, scorched scent reached his nostrils. A few more swings and he was able to make a hole big enough to crawl through. Putting his maul back in the storage dimension, he crouched down and got into the room. Standing up and moving to the side, he took in the scorched chamber. Holding a hand up, he stopped Turien from entering behind him, "Wait. For the spell to work, I need to have as much of the ashes and fragments gathered together in a big pile. Any chance you lot have a broom?"

She shook her head, "No, of course not! Why would I bring one?"

Tristan frowned and poked Felicity, who had been uncharacteristically silent as she made her paw-claw biscuits.

Felicity sighed, "Nope. I don't have one."

Tristan replied to Torien, "Then we need to be very careful and use our hands and feet to push all the ash and scraps into a single heap. Okay? So we go slow." He moved his hand out of the way, and then offered it to help the woman through the last bit of the dug-out collapse. The duo were quickly joined by the rest of the investigators, and under Tristan's direction, they made a small pile in the farthest corner of the chamber. A pile of ash, fragments of paper and parchment, and splinters of wood. Tristan spun his crucible once more, opened his storage dimension, and grabbed is Omnitome, flipping it to the spell he needed.

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From the Ashes (Second)

Spell Phrase: I call upon the lingering fragments of these items. Ashes that still retain trace of what they once were. Reform by my will.

Spell Gesture: Place both hands over the pile of ashes, with arms extended. Ring finger and thumb are to touch for both hands, palms facing down to the pile of ashes, and all other fingers extended. Then, as you say the spell phrase, push the essence into your fingertips, and slowly curl the remaining fingers in, directing the essence flow to the palm.

Other Notes: The objects and substances may be incomplete if all of the ashes and other pieces comprising the original object are not gathered together.

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Tristan set the Omnitome down on the ground next to him and performed the spell gesture, reading directly from the book as he spun his crucible and directed the flow of essence. He could feel the cool power turned into one of warmth and heat, and as he finished the incantation and pulled the essence into his palms, he felt a warm flush; as if he had held his hand just too close to a candle.

Beneath his palms, the ashes, wood, and paper scraps all glowed a brilliant, ashy grey that sparkled like diamond turned into dust. Then, the objects split themselves into different stacks, and reformed or partially remade themselves. Tristan grabbed his Omnitome and put it back into the storage dimension, willing that space to close, as he stepped back. "There's all the evidence we could recover," he said.

The two white-cloaked investigators knelt and began going through the information. Some incomplete, some complete, and the way they worked in tandem – laying out information, using small strings to draw connections, and eventually creating a huge web across the floor. Tristan stood, taking in the whole process, and he heard scribbling up on his head. Felicity spoke, only hearable by Tristan. "This is neat! I'm learning firsthand how to be a better detective!"

Turien stood up and leaned back, her spine popping a few times as she let out a grunt. "Well…that's about all I've got in me. What do you make of it?" she asked her companion.

The male white-cloaked Demonkin stood up, "We can conclude that it comes from another Realm, but I do not know the language." He glanced back at Tristan, "Marius, you are a well-traveled mercenary. Ever seen this language before?"

Tristan could see the paper from afar, but he chose to kneel as to not arouse suspicion based on his sight prowess. "That looks like…" wait a second, he thought. I've seen this type of runic writing before! When I fought that skeletal juggernaut back on Maladonia. The same type of runes as the summoning circle they used. He stood up and spoke, "Looks like Death's Breath," he said, pretty sure that based on the appearance of the entity, it came from where legends said the undead species and Vantir heritage originated from. "Undying Realm."

The faces of all the Demonkin around him soured, and frowns replaced any other expression. "Shit," Turien said, breaking the silence. "Okay, pack up the evidence. We'll confirm, then take appropriate actions." She looked over to Tristan, "Thanks for your help, Marius. If the Undying Realm is using our city for some nefarious experiments, we'll put a stop to it. You've done all you can."

Tristan nodded, "I'll keep my ears and eyes open for any sign of more of this disease."

Exiting the tunnel network and leaving through the graveyard, Tristan followed the curve of the city walls until he came to the road leading back to the main path that would lead to the capital Saumur. He recalled the fork that they had taken to go northwest, and knew that going down the other fork would take him to the next destination – Brightmarch. Home of the Alphinaud Demon House, and ruld by Demon Lord Stramal.

"It should be a lot easier," Tristan said to Felicity as he walked through the mid-morning air, suppressing a yawn. "Since we've got the letter from Debera Dalphatroux."

Felicity was making little paw-claw biscuits on his head with her hind legs, and scribbling in her Omnitome with her front paws. "Hmm?"

"What has you so occupied up there?" he asked.

"Thinking of a mean plan," she replied mischievously. "Want to hear it?"

"Sure," Tristan replied. "I love hearing you talk."

Felicity giggled and her tail thwapped against the nape of his neck, sending a slight tingle down his spine. "Well, I figured that our goal is to ally these Demon Houses, get them on our side, and then use that military alliance to lure out the Demon King's forces. What if we also had the outer regions struck by a plague from another world? Not actually, of course, we don't want to spread that nasty, icky disease. But…what if we got enough rumors and reports going about it?"

Tristan thought on that for a moment, "It could be a good idea," he replied, giving it serious consideration. "But a mass disinformation campaign like that would need heavy coordination. I'm not sure we could accomplish that."

"Well, I'm brainstorming how we could do it," she replied. "Maybe find some demon birds or something like it, pluck their feathers, and then use some illusion spells and disguise trickery to make the Demon King think that a disease has spread to the capital."

"That…that's not a bad idea," Tristan replied as a mischievous smile graced his lips. "I love it when you put on your evil mastermind mindset…as long as its not aligned against me."

"Only when I'm trying to figure out how to best get that jumpy reaction out of you in bed," Felicity replied.