Sensus Wrought

AKI:

"I have been patient," Royce growled.

I shrugged off my surprise and reclaimed my step. "For your own sake," I countered.

Royce stared me down with a quiet fury foreign to him, so much so that he seemed to me a stranger. The room, once filled with the hum of matrices and the crackles of their effects, had gone still. Merlin stared past the ruins of her latest work, as unfamiliar with this version of Royce as I was. Even Malorey paused mid-weave, her hands straining over her unraveling matrix.

I stood my ground as shredded dandelion heads drifted to the floor between Master Royce and me. "For your own sake," I repeated.

Royce's jaw tightened. "Do not be childish. Ultimately, everything that everyone does is to serve themselves?" He laughed, but it was a bitter sound, stripped of its usual cheer. "You think I waste my time on you because I seek favor? That I endure your stubbornness, your evasions, your endless refusal to see what you are, because I want something from you?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

Royce turned away, gesturing for Melin and Malorey to resume their work. His stern expression had them fumbling to obey. The room stirred again, the hum of Arts returning, though the rhythm of their practice was staggered by trepidation.

He stepped closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Say it is true."

"It is."

Royce's jaw clenched, a precursor to his budding scowl, but he ignored my provocation and continued his point. "Are the merits of my advice rebutted by my motivations?"

"It calls into question whether or not the merits are, in truth, faults in disguise."

Royce shook his head, frustration giving way to disappointment. "Another specious argument. I am not the reason you've forsaken your talents as an Arcanist. Dispense with these lies of yours and tell me why."

I resumed my work, but try as I might, the Alchemy would not let me escape Royce's attention. "My reasons are my own."

"As is my support, young Aki, and my offering it to you is quickly becoming—"

"I know." With a sigh, I let go of my matrix and looked up. "My reasons will not satisfy you."

"Withholding the truth of the matter irks me just the same, if not more."

"The Art… disgusts me. It is by its very nature a desecration of what ought to be inviolate."

Royce laughed. A genuine laugh, I realized, because unlike the flat titter of his usual mirth, this laugh was wild and hoarse. It ran the length of his body, arched his back, shot his open palm at the worktable, and cast his face toward the ceiling. And like any sincere bout of laughter, it dwindled chaotically, rising several times to lower and lower peaks until all that remained was a smile.

"You think this is humorous?" I asked, unsure if I should feel insulted.

Royce chuckled briefly before he answered me. "You're an Auger, Aki."

I frowned. "What of it?"

"Son of a God. A Fiora."

"An Auger godling that dares to question the morality of the Arcanist Arts?"

"Not all Auger Arts leave permanent markings, and few dare to strip the very soul of sentient beings." I had more words about Gods and godlings, but they were too dangerous to spout into the open air.

"You are thinking with your emotions, boy," Royce, once more composed, his mirthful façade hiding him. "But I shall not dissuade you of your stance this day. Not all of it, in any case. Consider the materials you've brought along. Are their primitive souls, by your estimations, sacrosanct?"

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I looked down at what remained, the mindless life of the plants lying dormant in their dying bodies. "I think not—they, unlike creatures of thought, do not travel to greater plains of existence upon their deaths, merely decompose to join the sensus of the world."

"Then start there, and as you master the simpler workings of Arcanist Arts, I shall endeavor to unravel the foolish emotions that bind your convictions on the Art I've given my many years of life to."

"The Art of my blood threatens to bewitch me every waking moment," I said. "You are asking me to invite another adversary into my mind to further wear away at my resolve." Royce smiled, and I knew my words had just helped him with whatever lesson he was trying to impart.

"That is the nature of power, young Aki," he said.

And as I had feared, I found myself agreeing with him.

***

The refectory was a cavern of quiet, its long benches sparsely peopled by the few students who'd come to avail themselves of the cooks' rustic fares. Sil and I sat shoulder to shoulder amongst their meager number.

"Will you heed Dako's advice?" Sil asked.

I swirled my spoon, watching soft vegetables swim in my bowl of stew. "Do you think I should?"

Sil tucked her lips between her teeth before she spoke. "I'm not sure I'm in a position to answer that question the way I want to."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know if my answer would be free of… selfish motivations."

I raised one eyebrow in question. Sil, who sat beside me, continued with her meal, ripping off a piece from a freshly baked loaf of bread and dipping it into her soup. I waited. Sil was never vague by accident. Just as I resigned myself to my own meal, she spoke.

"I'm not a Leaf, Aki," she said. I had never heard her so… unsure. "When Dako and I met, when Mistress Brittle introduced us, we had come to an agreement. A bargain, you could say. This was before we became friends."

"You are going to join his banner." I turned to look at her once more. This time, she looked not at her food, but away, hiding behind the back of her head.

"I was to become his adjutant," she said.

"Was?"

Her fingers tightened around the bread. "I fear Dako's plans have changed."

"He would not renege on an agreement, let alone—"

"I…" she hesitated, bit her lips once more, then continued. "I cannot say."

"What do you mean?"

"It's for him to tell you."

"We're talking about you."

Sil turned to look at me, her expression hesitant. "We're talking about us."

Realization struck. For a man so clever, so deep of memory and quick of mind, I can be mighty slow. The signs had been there: his lack of a following, his cryptic words when Efeleese approached me, his sudden silence on the Admin Institute he once aspired to join so incessantly. Dako meant to fall under my banner. To cede his Leafdom. First Efeleese and his collective. Then Ricell. Now Dako and Sil.

Everything, I thought. Or did I? Yes. I did. I mean to kill a goddess. I mean to reshape the greatest of pantheons. The masses of Evergreen are to become my wards. Why not start with two friends? Knite and I will see to it that my grandfather's dream is reborn and made a reality. Why not, indeed.

Sil saw the spark ignite behind my eyes. "He shouldn't have pushed you down this path," she murmured, "but he believes it's best for all of us. He trusts you. I do too, but…" Her voice faltered. "It's hard to trust myself in this. Am I—"

"You should," I said. "Trust yourself, that is. As should Dako and your father."

Sil stiffened at the mention of Ricell. "What has he to do with this?"

Sil saw them first, and her pursuit of the topic was stolen from her. There were seven of them altogether, Efeleese among them. They were fewer than the original tally that had approached me in the courtyard. I figured the missing members, by force or fate, had fallen to one Leaf or another.

Efeleese detached from the group and strode forward. He stopped across the table from me and Sil. Though the lanky Zephyr did not bow, he stood erect, chest out, and arms clasped behind his back. Sil, noticing my discomfort at how Efeleese stood at attention as though he were a soldier under my command, snickered even as she sipped at her bowl of bone broth.

"Sit down, Efeleese." I looked behind him at the others. They huddled together uncertainly near the refectory door, a mass of nervous ticks and hushed whispers. "And tell them to join us."

Efeleese waved the group over. They shuffled to us in tandem, heads down. I asked them to sit. I glanced over the seven of them. Four men and three women. Efeleese alone sported the characteristics of Iuslander godlings. A mousey woman with short, curly hair of a fiery red, pale, freckled skin, and dark, green eyes sat on the far left. She shivered under my assessing gaze. Beside her was a stocky man, touched by Golodanian heritage, with grey skin tone, thick brows, and thin hair the color of tar. Next was a bookish boy, small in stature, with a coldness to him. Efeleese was in the middle, his lanky frame the tallest among the seven. To his left sat a dark-haired girl with thin lips and an upturned nose. She fidgeted with a small knife, spinning its black hilt on her palm. Beside her was a boy I assumed was her brother. Or cousin. He had the same thin lips and dark hair, though his face was somewhat more angular. At the far end was the third girl. Olive-skinned. Beautiful. Hands on her lap. Hair pulled back into a tail.

"Are all off the path?" I asked.

"Except myself," Efeleese said.

"Why?"

"They—"

"No, why are you still on it?"

"That is a complicated matter."

"Simplify it for me."

Efeleese sighed. "In the matriarch's absence, our House has split into two camps—those clinging to tradition, and those bending to survive Evergreen's brutal game. The latter grows stronger by the day. I mean to reverse the tide."