Silence - Chapter 15

1/3 - when this is all done posting, I'll post up a PDF as well, for ease of reading.

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High Elder Fairbanks considered the city from his high vantage atop the Spire. Here at the very tip of the Eyrie, the highest point in the entire Territory, he could see over hill and dale and into the very heart of his domain. In his more fanciful moods, he liked to imagine his realm as an actual Domain, with the Guild as the Domain Core that kept everything in its proper place. A clock with a great many cogs, each perfectly set and secured so that the machinery of war continued without abatement.

Haarwatch. It was a solid city. A place of purpose, to protect the Heirocracy from the beasts that threatened its borders. It was even built atop Ages-old ruins, and sported some few defenses harkening back to those halcyon times.

Like the Wall. It was a relic of the Lost Race that built Haarwatch's precursor city, used even now as foundations for the very tower he was standing within. It was built of solid orichalcum, a metal so rare that the Heirophant once considered dismantling the Wall for her own use. But its defensive capabilities were too useful and it proved a hardy bulwark against the endless waves of chimera that attacked from the Foglands. That used to attack.

Fairbanks leaned over the edge of his balcony, his Adept Tier eyes as sharp as any raptor, and saw the forest. The Foglands, bare of any fog at all. It had been weeks since the fog dispersed, but still he was not used to it. He felt strangely naked, defenseless despite all their protections. Which was why the Guild was sponsoring teams to enter the Foglands and cut it down.

Let's see those chimera take us by surprise now, he thought with a bit of vicious glee. Without their fog, without their tree cover, they are but clay targets to my battalions of Guilders. And eventually, our foothold will expand. The time for Haarwatch to grow has come at last.

For too long his city had been in an immobile war between monsters and men. Now they could press the attack and reclaim land that had been lost to fog for too many Ages. The riches they had unearthed already would fuel that expansion, as well as many other things for Haarwatch. More than enough to push to become one of the Hierocracy's premiere border cities, and to even garner further resources from the Protector's Guild Head Branch.

He had worked hard to bring business and riches to his people, to extend the city into the mountains and delve deeper into the earth for the ore that sustained so many of his nobles. He was a Lord in all but name. Gold Rank granted him a political position similar to a Baron, but it was not a landed title, nor a System granted one. The Heirophant only let rule those that were indispensable politically or economically garner true landed rights. As it was, it was his Guild branch that held the Provisional Authority over the Territory...and that only extended to the city itself.

However, even now resources from the Foglands were piling into the Guild coffers, swelling their vaults with power—both figurative and literal. It was the dream, finally real.

The scheme they had hatched so many months ago—based on Eliza DuFont's questionable intel—had failed. They had intended to gain the Foglands as their Territory by virtue of a little known Hierocratic law:  if a force takes possession of a land, creates a bastion and defends it against all comers for six months, they gain a provisional hold on the land itself. There were bylaws and stipulations to that occupancy, but they were easily smoothed over. No, the greatest threat were the monsters and dizzying fog itself, which had proven too much for their people.

And then, by some stroke of luck, that bitch Magda had handed the Foglands to him on a silver platter.

Hmph. One good thing before her deserved death. Fairbanks had never liked the common-born Aren nor her loudmouthed sister. A pity that little assassin DuFont had hired wasn't able to kill them both.

Though her original plan failed, it was DuFont that he had to thank for their good fortune. She had hedged her bets and set loose a Sworn assassin on the Silver Rank team, ensuring Magda's death and recovering the Dayne girl. He was willing to overlook DuFont's questionable methods as the results spoke for themselves. It only resulted in a few deaths, after all, and of those only the traitorous Magda had any real worth. The rest were Bronze Rank trash, destined to never rise above their limitations. The loss of Calesca and Harn to the Tribunal ruling was a blow, but they weren't trustworthy anymore. That damned Magda had gotten in their ears. Turned them against their better interests. Against the Guild.

Against him.

"Knock knock," said a smooth baritone. "It was unlocked, so I did myself the courtesy of walking in."

Fairbanks turned from his view of Haarwatch to look at the new arrival. He was younger than the High Elder, and though his silvery hair and goatee suggested otherwise, they both had the flawless skin and features that came with enough advancement.

"Uldred. I'm surprised to see you outside your little warren," Fairbanks said. "I've heard you've been enraptured by a new project."

Elder Uldred Teine smirked as he crossed the High Elder's chambers. "You know how it is: time slips away from you when you're uncovering the mysteries of Creation."

"And have you? Uncovered anything?"

"You speak of the reason for the Fogland's sudden surcease of fog?" Teine ran two fingers over the surface of Fairbanks' desk, bobbling the floating, scripted lamp. "No. Other than the fact that Magda entered the Labyrinth, was accosted by many Frost Giants and died, little is known. Our...source, of course, is somewhat suspect."

"Calesca."

"Just so. But she claimed there was a vault or some such below the earth. I have two teams on their way to inspect it, but they haven't yet returned." Teine waved his hand, as if swatting an annoying fly. "But nevermind that. It is the least exciting news I have brought to you, High Elder."

"Oh?" Fairbanks walked to his high backed chair and sat. The chimera leather was as soft as any southern silks, supple and tough after the alchemical baths used to treat it. "What new discovery could so excite my Elder of Spirit?" He gestured for Teine to sit as well.

Teine sat, but the nervous energy in his bearing forced him back to his feet almost immediately. "It is the injured and ill survivors. They are not improving."

"I would think that an issue for the Healer's Ward," Fairbanks said.

"Mhm, and you would be right under standard circumstances. But I've had the opportunity to examine several of the survivors. They range from Humans to Elves to Dwarves and Orcs. Even a few Goblins, if you can believe it," he snorted.

"The Guild is welcoming of all Races," Fairbanks recited.

"Sure it is," Teine smirked, before switching gears. "The survivors. Yes. All of them, regardless of age, Race, level, or Temper have...something swimming through their channels. At first I thought it was debris from a recent advancement, or some sort of core ailment, but no. The longer I have examined them, the more certain I've become."

Fairbanks waited a beat, while Teine stared at him with wide eyes and a wider smile. "Well? Are you a mage or a street magician? Quit with the dramatics and spit it—"

"It is Primordial Essence."

Fairbanks shot to his feet immediately, flaring his Spirit and forcing Teine backwards along the floor. The Elder of Spirit grunted and fell to his knees, unable to withstand the pressure of his power. Even his robes flattened.

"Speak swiftly and with extreme caution, Uldred," Fairbanks forced out. For the first time in too long his heartbeat hammered in his ears and he even felt sweat begin to bead along his neck. "Have you touched the Essence? Has it spread?"

Teine struggled to lift his head, gasping out his words. "It is...inert!"

Fairbanks hesitated, reducing the pressure of his Spirit. "What do you mean? Primordial Essence doesn't go inert. It is an infection, a plague that wipes out entire nations! And you are...toying with it?"

Teine struggled from his knees, still under the influence of the High Elder's immense Spirit. "I—I have tested it in every way we have. Every piece we have found in a survivor is completely and utterly inert. As if—as if it's devoid of a Mind or Spirit."

"The Body without the animus of Mind or Spirit," Fairbanks mused. "How is that possible?" His Spirit retracted fully, and Teine took a deep, measured breath. "The Primordials are nightmares from the darkest of Avet's pits. You are too young to recall the one that ravaged the East, but if you weren't, you would know what you are suggesting is unimaginable."

"Ah, but it is imaginable," Teine said. He coughed twice and his voice was a bit strained. "It is happening, now. And we are in a prime position to use it to our advantage."

"Advantage?" Fairbanks' mouth twisted at the idea. "How could a terror from the dawn of Creation be an advantage to us? Kill the patients and burn their bodies."

"No no, listen!" Teine's face was urgent and his left eye twitched. "They are inert! There is no spread! Which means we can test the Essence we have extracted—"

"You've already extracted the Primordial Essence? And nothing happened?"

"Yes. That is what I am telling you, High Elder. With this, imagine the Essence Draughts we can brew! Imagine the benefits to our own advancement! To the Hierocracy itself!"

"Don't patronized me, Uldred. This is not for the Hierocracy. They would burn you for even suggesting such a thing." Fairbanks drummed his fingers on his desk. "If it is inert as you say...then yes. This is an opportunity. One for the Guild, and the Guild alone."

Teine bowed, his earlier intensity suddenly absent. "As you say, High Elder. As you say."

"What do you need to begin?"

Teine smiled.