A Soldier's Life - 420 - The Lifeblood Of Sanctuary (edited 7-11-25 +250 words)

Chapter 420: The Lifeblood Of Sanctuary

Lesna had already descended some stairs into the bowels of Sanctuary, and my Hound training kicked in to get me familiar with our new home. Unfortunately, the only escape routes were aboard the large trading galleys, the Salty Widowor The Mourning After. They were the only ones capable of traversing the vast ocean safely. I assumed the dozen or so small cutters were used for fishing and to reach the Isle of the Dead.

“Evie, do you want to explore with me?” I asked while looking over my remaining group. She looked well-rested but was unsure about where to go. We had agreed that one of us would keep Evie in sight at all times until we were comfortable. She nodded, and I let Blaze and Benito head off together. They were discussing trying to find an archery range so Benito could get a few coins out of the Sentinels before they realized how good a shot Blaze actually was.

“Where are we going?” Evie asked, looking at me expectantly.

I decided to turn our exploration into a lesson. Not a trial by fire lesson like Konstantin would do, but a fun discovery of our temporary new home. “Our goal today is to make sure we never get lost in the future. We will explore the plateau and then each staircase.”

Evie groaned as we could see at least six visible stairwells from our position, and the descent to sea level was over fifteen hundred feet in my estimation. The plateau's buildings encircled the large stone plaza. The black stone pavers on the plaza seemed to have been fused together, not from dragon fire, since that would have made it look like melted wax. Instead, it was likely the work of stone mages. The surface was slightly angled to help water runoff. I explained all this to Evie, and she was fascinated by how I figured it out, which led to me discussing observation skills and Hound training. I omitted the more delicate training methods Konstantin had used.

We made our way to each building, read the Elven script, and entered if possible. Most were modest apartments, though some were classrooms, workshops, or administrative offices. We explored a few of the workshops.

The leather worker shop had four elves and an ancient-looking dwarf focused on their tasks. The scent of tanned hide and oil drifted out before we even stepped inside. A leatherworker moved with quiet precision, cutting thick, slate-colored hide along the grain. Strips hung from beams overhead like drying laundry, while shelves were crowded with buckles, dyes, and tools I couldn’t name. The others barely looked up as we entered, too focused on stitching reinforced patches into what looked like a Sentinel’s chest guard. Delicate Elven fingers moved like they had done this a thousand times. We lingered a moment longer, admiring the skill honed over the course of decades before exiting.

The next workshop was warmer and better lit, almost cozy. Rolls of undyed cloth fabric were neatly stacked along the dyed gray rolls. A humming elf with silver-threaded braids worked at a long table, measuring and cutting gray cloth with elegant care. A half-finished gray robe dressed a mannequin beside her. A dozen other wooden mannequin torsos of varying sizes were spread across the room. Two bickering elves appeared from the back room, going silent when they noticed us. They did not look happy, so we stepped out with apologies for interrupting.

The third workshop smelled of cedar, sap, and smoke. Shavings curled across the floor, and a wiry man with heavy eyebrows stood bent over a bench, carefully shaving a plank by pulling a blade toward himself with slow, practiced motions. Finished chairs hung on the walls. Whatever he was working on, it demanded full attention as he never looked up.

All the other craft buildings were locked, but their purpose was marked in Elven script. We took the widest stairs down to a series of tiered terraces carved into the western cliffside, each one packed with gardens bathing in sunlight. Sentinels, clad in their gray robes, moved quietly among the plants, tending to them. One of them, a slender elven woman, stepped forward to speak with us.

Her bright smile was disarming. “The new initiates?” she asked with a lyrical voice, and we confirmed with a nod. “I was not told any of you would be joining us.”

“We were given the day to explore. This is Evie, and I am Eryk. I would be grateful if you gave us a tour of the terraced gardens,” I said humbly.

“Of course! I am Nymira, and I am in charge here. Maybe during my tour, I can convince you to join our work group,” she said eagerly. “This side of Sanctuary is the best place to get the most daylight. Our biggest problem is keeping the soil salt-free from the ocean spray that reaches this high in the storms. The fast-growing plants are on the plateau’s raised beds. These,” she indicated the three tiers we could see from our vantage point, “are for slowly maturing crops, mostly vegetables for consumption. There are some terraces reserved for the alchemist’s requirements, too.”

I interrupted. “Can we see those?”

We spent hours walking along the garden ledges until I noticed Evie’s boredom showing and decided to explore elsewhere. The most interesting thing about the gardens was that many of the Sentinels tending them had spell forms or spells to help improve the health and growth rate of the plants they tended. The alchemy herbs were the most carefully cared for, and I only recognized half of the plants and mushrooms in those boxes. We also learned that the death essence from the isle was unable to infect or corrupt the plants, unlike its effect on people.

We ascended and chose another stair. We hadn’t walked ten steps when we met an energetic young Elven boy named Noren. Norena was a whirlwind of motion, his silver-blond hair always half-tamed and his green eyes bright. He was happy to show us around the lower levels, abandoning whatever task he was currently on.

He brought us to the dark side of Sanctuary, which was shielded from the sun for most of the day. Most of the levels facing this side had expansive, sealed storerooms. Most were locked, but Noren managed to get us into one that had stacks of crates containing goods manufactured over the centuries. Each crate was labeled in Elvish, noting the contents and the date it had been sealed. I got the feeling that the Sentinels were preparing for something much bigger.

I was interested in the workshops on the lower levels, and Noren took us to a section where most of the Sentinels worked during the day. Each workshop focused on a specific good and featured frosted large glass windows to let in some natural light, complementing the powerful glow stones in the ceiling. There were too many craft rooms to spend more than a moment peeking in each. This was not what I had been expecting would occupy the famed Death Sentinel’s days. From Durgin, I knew the Sentinels traded their crafted goods sparingly, so it was curious that they devoted so much time to these professions.

It was getting late in the day, so the last stop on Noren’s tour was his favorite place—the heart of Sanctuary, known as the Sentinel Repository. Here, dozens of interconnected floors spiraled up and down, each lined with circular shelves filled not only with ancient books and fragile scrolls but also carefully cataloged skulls from countless creatures, exotic weapons, fatigued pieces of armor, and many other artifacts too numerous to count in the brief time we moved between the floors.

Around the edges of the Repository were several sealed vaults with sturdy locks reinforced by shimmering aetheric wards I could see with my aether sight. Sentinels in their gray robes moved slowly through the maze of levels on their tasks, but their alert eyes watched our every move as Noren led us through his favorite collections. Theft probably wasn't a concern since we were confined here, but they weren’t aware of my dimensional space. I made a mental note to keep it secret if I could, though I had no intention of stealing anything.

There was so much knowledge stored here that it would take an Elven lifetime to go through it all. The knowledge was even more impressive than the ruined collections in Caelora. We hadn’t even scratched the surface of how vast the inner workings of Sanctuary were before the sun was fading.

I guessed Sanctuary could hold tens of thousands of people if needed, with the only limitation being the need to feed them all. The rock itself jutted out of the ocean to two thousand feet in height, according to Noren, and was almost two miles at its base, with the plateau summit being half a mile across. The inner workings were like a beehive with thousands of rooms, each with an assigned purpose.

The climb to the plateau was tedious, but we found Lesna in the kitchens waiting for me to cook for her. She didn’t say that outright, but asked, “What are we having?” as she relaxed into her seat. She exchanged tales of her explorations with Evie as I prepared dinner. Evie and Lesna quickly got into a friendly contest on who had the most interesting day.

Benito and Blaze returned shortly after sunset while I was heating some oil. Benito looked devastated as he collapsed into the chair at the table. Blaze told us why. “He lost a dozen silver.”

Benito narrowed his eyes at Blaze like it was his fault. “Turns out elves who spend five centuries shooting a bow are pretty good,” Benito whined and pressed his head into the table.

“He also has to scrub the salt off the range’s walls in his free time,” Blaze added with a grin. Maybe it was a good lesson for Benito to learn.

“Eryk, maybe you could challenge some of the weapon masters? You know, just give me a little time to place a few wagers of your magnificence to regain my silver?” Benito said hopefully, his face still planted into the table.

“Probably not. What are you going to use the coin for anyway? There are no stores here, and everything is free.” I said, which had Benito raise his head, perplexed, as he had not realized that yet.

I made an onion soup, simple fast rosemary bread, and fried something akin to eggplant, and topped it off with fried eggs. I realized I needed to delegate cooking duties, or I would spend two hours at every meal feeding my companions. Most initiates seemed to fend for themselves when it came to cooking and relied on the larders’ prepared foodstuffs. We divided up the week, with each of us taking a day, and the two extra days, people would be on their own.

Everyone slept better that night, feeling more comfortable in their new home. In the morning, we were called to the classrooms after breakfast. We would continue our lessons from Veilmark until midday. Once we passed the exams for all the courses, our mornings would be free for whatever we wanted. Each job location in Sanctuary had a morning and afternoon shift, with one person in charge who delegated which one you worked.

After the midday meal, we were sent to our respective work locations. Rather than go to the artificer’s workshop, I walked with Evie to the hatchery in the lower levels of the Sanctuary. Evie immediately started to become apprehensive.

“I am going to have to walk all the way down here every day?” she said after we had descended for twenty minutes and were only halfway according to the script on the walls.

“It is excellent conditioning,” I said with an edge of Konstantin’s mirth sneaking into my voice.

She huffed but didn’t complain again as we made our way all the way down. The hatchery was hot and brightly lit. Wooden pens and nesting shelves lined the smooth walls. Dozens of brooding hens and geese fluffed their feathers protectively over eggs, while chicks—noisy and newly hatched—peeped and tottered across sawdust-covered floors in pens.

Though the ocean was hidden, its presence was inescapable. A low, rhythmic rumble echoed through the stone, indicating we were close to sea level. The hatchery was heated with thermal stones in the floor and lit by dozens of bright glowstones hanging just out of reach from the ceiling.

A narrow water channel trickled fresh water from a reservoir high above. It made me wonder if Sanctuary had any baths. It would definitely make our time here much more pleasant. Three elven boys and one girl collected eggs and cared for the chicks. One archway was clearly labeled as leading to the slaughterhouse, and I hoped Evie wouldn’t have to work in there.

“Are you going to come and pick me up every day? You did say it would be good exercise,” Evie said teasingly. I could tell she was anxious to join the others and play with the chicks, but hadn’t moved yet.

“I will come down with you, and Blaze or Benito will come to get you at the end of your day,” I said gravely. My internal warning bells weren't triggering, but Sentinels were too focused on Evie to ignore her safety.

An old, frail human woman entered the room and, upon seeing us, smiled. “Evie? Come, let me show you what we do here.” Evie eagerly left my side, and I watched for just a minute before turning around and climbing the stairs.

I had to pull up my robes so I could take three steps at a time to rush to get to the artificer’s workshop. The Sentinel artificers were near the plateau, so it still took time to climb all the way back up, and yes, it was a good workout as my legs were burning. The door was locked when I reached it, and I had to knock. When the door opened, I cursed inwardly as I faced the man inside.

Caracalla Lepidus’ voice echoed from under his bone mask. His unnerving eyes locked onto mine. “You are late.” Although his voice was flat, I think I could hear some disapproval in it.

“I had too…” I started to say, but he interrupted me.

“Arrive on time tomorrow, or don’t come back. You can head down to the glassworks today and help out there.” He shut the door and locked it. I almost knocked again but thought better of it. I was soon cursing because the glassworks were all the way at the bottom of the spire, next to the piers where the ships were moored. Good exercise, indeed, I muttered to myself as I took the stairs once again.

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