Rise of the Archon

Our departure the following morning was unremarkable. Several Graythorns, most notably Kathryn and Allistair, joined us to say their goodbyes. They extracted promises from a smiling Flynn to remain in contact and, strangely enough, the young noblewoman all but demanded the same from me as well.

I agreed to write Kathryn in the future, doing my best to put out of my mind another person whom I had recently tried to contact. I had no way of knowing whether or not Amelia had received my letter. Even if she had, there was no guarantee she'd have any interest in speaking to me. We had only known each other for a year, after all.

We carried on with our travels, days turning into weeks as we made our way ever south. As we did so, Flynn and I carried on training and sparring, and it was here that I finally began to truly grasp his skills.

Flynn was a near-flawless mage in that he had no glaring weaknesses. He understood at least the fundamentals of all magic, combat-related or otherwise. His mana was potent yet perfectly controlled, and there was only a thimble of power wasted when he slung spells.

While any mage of higher advancement could outmatch him in raw power, I doubted many would boast a more well-rounded skillset. Yet despite this, he did have limits where I had already surpassed him.

For one, my core and channels had been tempered far beyond what he could match. This, coupled with their superior size, meant that I could strain them without injury, though Flynn's greater efficiency and control made the difference in our reserves negligible.

Beyond that, my strengthened body continued to show its benefits. I could move, train, and fight with less regard for food, water, and rest than a regular human. These improvements had limits, but I estimated that my physical needs had dropped by roughly one-quarter.

Lastly, to my great delight, my theory about the Ocean mana within my core proved true. By damaging the shell around my counterpart's Aether, I had released enough of it to increase the pull on the ambient energy around me. This difference wasn't staggering, but combined with my improved gathering technique, it allowed me to recover and progress more rapidly than ever.

It was thanks to these advantages that I could train longer and more frequently than Flynn. We continued to spar every day, discussing areas where I might improve during meals and exchanging ideas on magic, but that was far from the extent of my studies.

I practiced my spells whenever possible, running Aether through my body even while reading or taking notes in an effort to make my control unconscious. Whenever my core ran dry, I would stretch my senses in all directions, seeking to improve both the range and precision as I sought out regions of higher or lower mana density.

My notebook soon filled out with ideas and theories on what I had seen in the Graythorns' garden, and how it might relate to my body rebuilding array. When those thoughts ran dry, I started expanding out, trying to hypothesize other uses for such concepts.

But more than anything else, I trained my Forging. Flynn had correctly identified it as the place where I had the best chance of impressing his father, and I had no plans of failing in that endeavor.

I crafted daggers of solidified Aether, focusing on improving my control and efficiency as much as possible. My original limit, even after advancing, was a handful in one day, but I soon learned to smooth out the flaws in the process. Little wasted bits of effort and deficiencies in the process vanished under the weight of constant practice, and the time it took to craft these weapons shrank with every repetition.

As my control improved, I continued to hone my skill with the strange 'intent imbuement' technique I had learned. Focusing my will into these weapons was like looking in two directions at once, but I knew it would serve me well. Once I mastered this ability, I would have a near-unstoppable blade at my disposal.

And even though my control and skill fell short, these failures gave me another opportunity. Each imperfect construct was an opportunity to practice my Destruction technique. I mastered sensing the flaws within my own creations and learned how to break them back into their component Aether with far greater ease.

When I had reached the point where my permanent constructs took just seconds to break down, I expanded my training. Rocks taken from the sides of the road became my new quarry, and I found that they were a more interesting approach. The varying structures, ranging from flaws to material components, made for a more challenging training regimen.

Yet despite the progress I made, rote repetition had its limits. I needed to apply the technique in battle, but such a notion was impossible.

My mana had still not fully returned to normal after my abrupt advancement. Beyond that, maintaining my existing spells was already straining my control and focus. I was sure that I could combine Destruction with the rest of my abilities someday, but not for months yet.

So, it was with the familiar feeling of frustration that we reached the ancestral home of the Sions.

---

All noble families owned at least some land. The lowest and least might span only a few miles, and the greatest boasted vast parcels of fields, forests, hills, lakes, and rivers, but it was a universal truth.

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Most families selected arable lands, a hard-learned lesson. Early Ferren society lacked the infrastructure and technology to transport and store food, and hadn't yet discovered agricultural magic. Growing enough crops to support an entire kingdom was just not possible.

Instead, people took to growing their own crops, hunting for food, or, for those inclined to theft and violence, stealing from others. Nobles had acted as shields, protecting those who worked their lands in exchange for claiming the lion's share of the product.

It was a sensible thing that had persisted across dozens of generations in nearly every house, great and small. All, in fact, save one.

The Sions hadn't chosen vast swaths of fertile lands. They didn't own raging rivers upon which to trade with nearby towns or cities. There wasn't some great lake beside their manor where they could fish.

Instead, they'd built their home at the end of a small valley. It wasn't a particularly large or impressive plot of land, a low spot lying between what might be generously called mountains, but it provided the Sions with two great boons.

First, the geography acted as a natural defense. Traversing the mountains was difficult, despite their relatively small size, meaning attacks would have to come from a single direction.

Far more interesting, however, was the ambient mana.

I caught the change from miles away. Mana tended to ebb and flow, forming pockets of higher and lower concentrations. Beyond that, the precise mixture would also vary, with some places well-balanced and others heavily skewed to one or two elements.

Yet within the Sion's valley, mana was dense and potent, yet remarkably balanced. It felt as though I were slipping underwater, and as we made our way deeper, this sensation only grew stronger.

As our party walked, I began to parse out the individual sensations. Light mana, blinding and searing in my mind's eye, was strongest, but it was far from alone. Wind blew past me, water bubbled up around us, earth shifted and ground, and fire burned. In the space between those more common elements, I caught hints of the cold strength of metal, the flickering power of lightning, and the slow, ever-growing life of wood. Even Aether, an ever-chaotic maelstrom of untapped might, moved here and there. Only darkness was absent from this mixture, save a few flickering wisps like shadows at midday.

Not for the first time, I found myself wondering about that connection. Were light mages more common in such regions, or had the Sions chosen such a place because light mana was so prominent here? The question was worth considering, but not now.

Trees clustered the valley, making it difficult to see further than a few hundred feet in any direction. We followed a wide road that cut eastward, passing through autumnal foliage. Slowly, the Sion estate came into view, and I found myself impressed once more.

The Sion's primary mansion was a somewhat modest two-story building of wood and rock, broken up only by small windows. Surrounding this was a short stone wall, maybe eight feet tall, which seemed more a formality than anything functional.

However, clearly the family must have been unsatisfied with just one residence.

Six other buildings lay scattered about the end of the valley, built partway up the face of the nearby mountains. The smallest of these was as large as the mansion, while the largest was several times the size. I had no idea at a glance what their purpose was, though I could guess that at least one must be servants' quarters, and suspected a second might house guests.

"Any chance you could give me a tour?" I asked Flynn, who walked beside me with a confident smile on his face. We'd stepped out of our carriage several hours early, ostensibly to 'stretch our legs.'

"After we convince the Duke to accept you as his son," Flynn replied with a grin. "And...maybe after one more sparring match. You almost got me last time!"

For emphasis, he tapped his chest with one hand. I tried not to scowl at that.

I had tried to narrow the skill gap, but my efforts always fell short. Anytime it seemed like I took a step closer, Flynn pulled ahead. Every bit of refinement to my magic was matched and exceeded. Any plans I tried failed to best the noble. I knew it was in part the result of past generations' efforts at perfecting their spellcraft, but it was still frustrating.

Our latest duel had been particularly galling. I had closed the gap with a quick series of Flicker Steps, moving like a phantom within range. Flynn's attacks had missed by a hand's width, his spells just a hair too slow. Landing a telling blow had seemed oh so close.

Then, Flynn had twisted his feet and, in a flash of blinding light, vanished only to reappear on the other end of the open field. I had turned, Aether flowing through my body, but the sudden jump had left me momentarily stunned. Even with my superhuman speed, I was too slow to blow the twin beams of golden mana that threw me to the ground.

"I maintain that you should've told me you had a movement spell," I replied, glaring at him.

"And I think you should've expected as much. I fight at a distance. Do you think I have no way of repositioning myself?"

Of course not, and that annoyed me more than anything. Well, almost. I should've considered it, but the fact that Flynn had never found it necessary was particularly frustrating. I suspected he either hadn't known the spell when we first fought or hadn't been skilled enough to use it, but it was yet another reminder that my style was an unrefined, self-made creation rather than the polished path walked by my vaunted ancestors.

Strangely, that also sent a surge of pride through me.

We made our way to the central building of the estate, and as we walked, Flynn spoke.

"Remember, my father respects spine and competency, not manners. Don't go insulting the man, but don't do...that."

"That?"

"The thing you did when we first met, where you played at being some fawning advisor. Speak to him like you would a well-respected mage, not some living god."

I wanted to protest that Flynn's father might as well be a god. If the stories were true, Duke Sion was arguably the strongest living mage, barring the Archmagi.

Still, we'd gone over a plan twenty times in the past few weeks. In fact, even this was a part of it. It was impossible to spy on us thanks to the enchantments built into the cart, but outside of it? Easy enough, particularly for a Duke.

Duke Sion respected talent and boldness above all else. If Flynn was to be believed, the man had little need of mewling sychophants. I would need to catch him off guard, and the best way to do that seemed to come prepared, with my skills as polished as possible.

Soon, we reached the main building. A servant awaited us there, an older man with graying black hair dressed in a fine suit and tie with tasteful golden decorations and the Sion crest on his chest. He bowed to Flynn low.

"Welcome home, young master Flynn," the man said, rising to smile. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"

"Very, thank you, Henry," Flynn returned the smile before clapping me on the shoulder. "This is Vayne."

Henry's eyes widened a hair, but he bowed in my direction after a brief pause. "Welcome, young master Vayne. We have been awaiting your arrival as well. My name is Henry, servant to the great house Sion."

"Henry here has been with our family for decades. If the stories are to be believed, he helped raise my father," Flynn explained. "And trust me, he knows these grounds better than I do."

"An exaggeration, my lord, I'm sure," Henry protested, a faint smile curling his lips." Though if you forgive me some pride, I would be happy to answer any questions you might have, after you meet with the Duke."

"He's expecting us, then?" Flynn asked.

"He has commanded your presence the moment you arrived home, my lord."

"I expected as much," Flynn smiled, shaking his head. "Very well. Henry, can you have the men unload the carriage? And do be careful. There's a cat in there that—"

Fortunatus, who had slipped out of the carriage some time ago to follow after us, jumped onto my shoulder. His tail wrapped around my neck, and he leveled a flat stare at Flynn.

"—that is a little sneakier than I expected. Never mind." Flynn matched Fortunatus' stare before shaking his head with a laugh.

"Of course, my lord," Henry seemed to take it in stride, nodding once before walking over to the rest of our traveling group.

Flynn followed the servant's departure for a few seconds before turning back to me and smiling. "You ready?"

"Yes," I lied, straightening my back and taking a deep breath. "Lead the way."