Chapter 154 - Confrontation

Mirian readied herself for a fight. She only had a single repository with her, but she always had combat spells prepared in her spellbook and the levitation wand up her sleeve. Behind her was a glass window, so if she needed to, she could escape. Or, she could summon Eclipse. She started to reach for her spellbook, but then froze.

Troytin didn’t have a wand or spellbook ready. Instead, he was just glaring at her.

“Micael Nezzar?” he asked.

“Yes? What are you doing in here? This—ah, Archmage Tyrcast! I’m… honored?” She hoped her confusion sounded genuine. In a sense, it was genuine. If she’d been found out, what was he doing asking her disguise-name? But if she hadn’t been found out, what was he doing with the archmage in tow?

Tyrcast rolled his eyes. “No honoring being done here. I’m just here because I made an ill-advised deal.” Tyrcast swapped to Eskanar. “He’s clean, by the way. No illusions, no unusual anti-divination wards.”

“Damn,” Troytin replied, then swapped back to Friian and said, “You know Mirian Castrella. How?” His Friian had gotten significantly better, she noticed. He still had an accent, but it wasn’t so pronounced.

Gods above, he doesn’t know, she thought. “Who?” she said.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “You’re too erratic to be self-guided. She’s manipulating you. How? What did she say? What did she promise? What happens at the beginning of the month?”

Mirian thought about how someone not in a time loop would respond. “What? Who are you and why—?”

Tyrcast piped up. “I’m here to make sure you answer the questions,” he said, still sounding bored. “Please do so, honestly, so we can both be done with this embarassment. Then you can forget this strange little incident ever happened.” He let a stream of light dance around his fingers like a serpent weaving in and out. It was an impressive display of raw magic control.

She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her, so she hoped she looked sufficiently intimidated. She swallowed, since that was a thing people who were scared did.

“Answer the damn question,” Troytin snapped. “What happens at the start of the month?”

“I… I came here? And then my transfer records got lost in a fire and I had to annoy the registrar for several days.”

“What else? How do you know Svani Endresen?”

She looked at Tyrcast, who looked back at her and shrugged. “Just keep talking and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. I just—” Mirian’s mind raced, trying to come up with pieces to Micael’s backstory she’d never thought to put into place. “—I got a letter from my grandma. She used to be an arcanist and I guess she knew the professor, so she suggested I talk to her. So I did.”

Troytin looked hungry. “Where’s the letter now? Do you have it?”

“Of course not, why would I keep it? I wrote her a letter on the back and sent it through the post. Why do you want to read my grandma’s letter?”

“What else did she say?”

Mirian wracked her brain. I also need to introduce a reason he can’t find Micael. She decided, then and there, that Micael’s story should be that he started the cycle in Cairnmouth, on his way up to Torrviol. “Uh, not to go down River Street on my way to the train because she thought it was too dangerous. Which was weird. Why—?”

“What’s your grandmother’s name?”

Mirian tried to think of a common west Baracuel name. “Uh, Cordelia. Nezzar, of course.”

Troytin’s eyes narrowed. “What else happens at the start of the month? What would make you go to Cairnmouth with Calisto Ennecus?”

Mirian’s heart raced. Shit. “What? Why would I do that? I mean, she’s nice, but we’re pursuing very different majors. What’s going on? Why are you even investigating students? You’re Akanans!”

“We were hired on as outside investigators,” Troytin said, lying easily.

 Behind him, Tyrcast rolled his eyes, speaking Eskanar again. “Do you really need me along for this?”

“I sent two airships after her, and never heard back from them,” he replied, looking back. “You’re profiting plenty from this, I might remind you.” He obviously hadn’t talked to any of the students Mirian had told Micael’s transfer history to.

Troytin turned again to look Mirian up and down, scowling. He looked over her spellbook, then at the work she was doing. Thank the Ominian I wasn’t working on tri-bonded glyphs. Mirian looked between him and Tyrcast. If she summoned Eclipse, she wondered how fast she could kill Troytin and run down Tyrcast. She embraced the Dance of the Dusk Waves form so that her reaction times would be just a hair faster. After all, if either of them had a focus, they would already know she wasn’t who she seemed. All of a sudden, she wondered what happened to a body that died with binding runes on it. Did it revert to its original form? Either way, revealing herself had to be a last resort. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Finally, Troytin took a step back. “She’s finding high-variable actors to focus on now. More subtle than arson.”

“Are we good?”

“Fine. Yes,” he told Tyrcast. To Mirian he said, “Tell no one about this, or there will be consequences you really don’t like. Your family won’t like them either.” He came a step closer and said, “And I have eyes and ears everywhere, so I will know if you talk.” Then he gave her an infuriating smile and started for the door. “Let’s go,” he said, and Archmage Tyrcast obediently followed.

As soon as they were gone, Mirian let out her breath.

Shit that was close.

But the disguise had held up. Troytin had been right there, and he hadn’t known. If he digs deeper, he might figure it out, though. With Specter no longer actively deceiving him about how soul magic worked, it would only be a matter of time before he figured out the pieces he was missing. Both the Deeps and Republic Intelligence Division were using soul magic. Troytin knew Mirian was associated with both Xipuatl and Marva who used soul magic.

She considered running, but decided that might make Troytin look closer. It seemed he was going around investigating anyone suspicious for connections, trying to reverse-engineer the disruptions Mirian was doing. Looking for a pattern. Looking for my objectives. He would depart Torrviol shortly and return during the invasion.

After this cycle, though, Micael had to disappear. She’d concocted a backstory that wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny. If Troytin did hear Micael was an exchange student and started investigating Akanan census records, he’d quickly realize Micael Nezzar and his family had never lived there. Port records would reflect the family never transited the straits. If he had access to Baracueli records, he could check those too.

Far too close. She’d overused the disguise. She also had to step up her efforts to misdirect him. The next time she confronted him, she wanted it to be on her terms entirely.

For now, at least, she could continue her stone mole experiments.

***

The day before the Akanans attacked Torrviol, Mirian stood with Viridian and together they watched a stone mole vanish as it phased around a spellward, then reappear to start munching on the golden cap mushrooms on the other side. As the stone mole eagerly chewed at the mana-rich fungus, Viridian turned to look at her.

“This is going to create quite a stir in myrvite research,” he said.

Mirian smiled. “I’m sure it will. Thanks again for all your help.” Now I just need to figure out how to hit them with spells when they phase.

***

Over the next four cycles, Mirian dedicated more time to disrupting Torrviol’s initial state. For this, she relied on Calisto and Nicolus, who both knew far too many people at the Academy, and Valen, who enjoyed stirring up drama even more than Calisto. Together, they worked on crafting various pranks that left embarrassed students making fools of themselves publicly. For example, they tricked Platus into thinking another student had challenged him to a duel, which left both of them in the hospital getting treated for burn wounds by a priest.

Platus was a bit too unstable, so Mirian targeted more sane students for the next parts. Valen and Calisto convinced a group of girls that one of the boy’s dorms was stealing women’s underwear by stealing it themselves, then planting it in their rooms. That led to utter chaos and a message from the Dean of Housing that three of the dorms had to gather and endure.

The cycle after that, Nicolus pretended to be a member of a secret student organization, but recruits had to scrawl messages on the Academy walls in an ancient language. Nicolus had, of course, drawn random symbols on the papers he handed them. The next round of qualifications involved running through Torrviol without pants while casting flare spells. Both caused quite the stir.

Mirian’s goal was to encourage odd behavior in students so they’d become targets for Troytin’s investigations. Or, there’d be too many of them for him to investigate. Troytin knew her connections with several students and professors, but she broke off contact as soon as the airship arrived so he wouldn’t be able to trace it back.

She also made sure to change her disguises and names regularly. As for Professor Endresen, it had been nice working with her, but the risk had become too high. In two of the cycles, she didn’t even make contact with Torres, simply so that she would act differently.

In the meantime, she continued her experiments with stone moles, setting up a secret experimental room in the Torrviol Underground. She handed off results for Jei to analyze, disguising the papers as math homework, and Jei in turn left them in a dead-drop behind the secret door in Griffin Hall.

She could get the stone moles to phase regularly, and worked with Jei to map out end-point coordinates of a spell that were in the fourth dimension. With trial and error—mostly error—she could figure out how ‘deep’ in the fourth dimension they were going and hit them with a very small force blade spell. It was a nasty thing to do, and a lot of stone moles died in her lab when a spell hit them in a vital organ. For a greater purpose, though.

The other thing she did was practice impersonating Adria Gavell. By delaying her assassination of Specter, she could analyze the bindings in detail. Then, once the traitorous spy was dead, she could memorize as much information as possible from her correspondence and notes.

She also took acting lessons from one of the women who helped run the town theater. It was a skill she’d been working on for some time, ever since she realized she’d need to infiltrate the Akanan airships, but getting instruction and feedback from a professional helped her perfect her gait and demeanor.

As she practiced her part and studied Specter’s notes, she paid special attention to Adria’s contacts at Fort Aegrimere and the other Praetorians. 

There was, after all, a perfect magical strike force, highly trained and with spellpower at a minimum of 80 myr. Better, they were just south of the myrvite titan, and were experts enough in combat she could quickly train them on her new attack techniques.

It was time to see what was going on with them.

***

Mirian recruited her old school friends to disrupt Torrviol again and went back to killing Specter and arranging for the spy cell to be arrested on the first day. Then, she left town on the 3rd, bringing her supplies with her and doing most of her scribing on the trains.

The Arcane Praetorians were scheduled to depart Palendurio on the morning of the 4th for their secret mission. They moved by a specially arranged train north to Cairnmouth, then took another special train to Alkazaria. Mirian still knew nothing about that operation, other that they were hunting a fugitive. That then landed them serendipitously in Alkazaria before Ibrahim could possibly block them. It seemed to be one of the only reasons his armies couldn’t take the second capital.

She departed from Cairnmouth that evening so that she’d arrive ahead of the Praetorians. That would give her a chance to observe Ibrahim’s forces as they moved into position.

Mirian had last passed through Alkazaria about three years ago to visit Grandpa Irabi, but had done little to study its layout, and nothing to examine its defenses. Now, she really took in the city.

The white spires of the city spoke to the past glory of the city; even before it was part of Baracuel, it was part of a powerful kingdom. During the Unification War, it was one of the few cities to never have been taken by an army. She had learned in her history class that this was not due to any special fortifications the city had, but the resilience and courage of its people. Those people never wavered in their faith of the Elder Gods. Quietly, east Baracueli people liked to speak of the hand of Shiamagoth personally shielding the city.

That was all well and good, but as an ancient city, it also had an ancient sandstone wall that encircled a vast portion of the city. During the Unification War, it had been reinforced with both new stone and the best in defensive wards, which also might have had something to do with its success. It was those walls, and the Ibaihan River that passed south of the city, that were probably giving Ibrahim the most trouble. It was also a port city. With no navy, Ibrahim had no good way to cut off food or supplies from flowing into Alkazaria from its fishing fleets or from trade with Madinahr. In all likelihood, the same olives and grains from the farms she knew in Arriroba were helping feed the city each cycle.

Mirian spent some time wandering the second capital, becoming more familiar with its main roads, the docks, and each of the large gates. Everywhere, merchant traffic moved through the streets. The sailing routes within the East Sound were some of the safest in the world—which didn’t mean they were safe, but it did mean there were plenty of goods from distant cities to be sold. Smaller businesses tried to hawk their wares to the many pilgrims and travelers visiting the city.

Walking the streets, Mirian felt more at home than she did in any of the western cities except maybe Torrviol. They were broad, well kept, and felt safe. Perhaps it was having so many temples with people praying out in the open instead of in dark cavernous churches. Perhaps it was the way the sun felt brighter without the oppressive low clouds that always seemed to smoother the western cities.

Or maybe it was just nostalgia. Alkazaria felt like Madinahr, and that reminded her of old friends and the days of her youth.

On the evening of the 4th, a special train arrived. The Praetorians were in disguise, making gratuitous use of illusion spells to make the train look like a normal one. Only, there were dozens of soldiers escorting them who were also getting off the train, the train was unscheduled, and they all couldn’t help but move around like disciplined regiments. The rumors started circling the west station immediately.

She followed the group as they moved, trying to get a good count.

There’s got to be at least 30 or 40 Praetorians, and they’ve got assistants and the escort soldiers with them. No wonder there were only a handful in Palendurio—they’ve damn near got the entire strike force. But why?

Mirian also kept an eye out for Ibrahim’s spies. No matter how good the southern time traveler had gotten at all this, Dawn’s Peace had been a smaller rebel group at the beginning of this all. Rostal had been surprised they hadn’t been exterminated. That meant almost everything Ibrahim was building wasn’t already in place. The simple limit of distance meant it would take time for him to move people into position. The limits of ability would prevent these new recruits from being expert spies. Unless he’s able to do what Troytin’s done, and usurp factions and institutions that are already built up. Commander Hirte had been sure there were traitors and spies at work, but Mirian wasn’t. To someone who didn’t understand the nature of the time loops, it would be the only reasonable explanation.

But that was why she was here. To understand, first, what was happening. 

As the sun set, the Praetorians made their way to the center of the city, winding up the shallow central hill, past the great temples. At the gates of Alkazaria Citadel, a delegation of more soldiers and Praetorians was waiting for them. As they entered, Mirian broke off. Subtle as an artillery blast, she thought. The operation, whatever it was for, was not well hidden. Still, I don’t know the target yet, so it’s not a total failure in operational security.

She’d find out more about it in time. For now, she wanted a good view of the city.

Mirian spent the next day continuing to survey the city as she scouted out magic shops and accumulated supplies. Her room at the inn began to fill with boxes. Then, she rented several machines in an artifice shop to forge a few seals. She only took out a few hundred gold doubloons, and made sure to rotate her disguises each time. In the grand scheme of the second capital’s economy, a few hundred gold really wasn’t all that much, so she thought it was unlikely to trigger any metaphorical divination wards.

The day after that, Mirian scouted around the central district, looking for a luxury apartment that was in one of the old towers. She had some fine clothing tailored for her, then burned most of her little fortune renting an apartment on the ninth floor of one of the towers on central hill. It was well worth it, though. By the 7th, she’d gotten her supplies shipped in and was starting to subtly ward the rooms. From the balcony, she could look out to the west and north where Ibrahim’s armies would arrive.

Likely, nobody else in the city even knew it, but tomorrow, the Siege of Alkazaria would begin.