[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 266 – An Unexpected Reunion

His cat brandished her brush.

Droplets of blue paint splattered across the floorboards. The paint beaded together and rolled to a stop.

Sam watched, waiting for something to happen. The stuff glowed faintly with the presence of mana. It reminded him of the sea.

Komachi aggressively shook her brush at the paint. The beads bounced on the ground like ants on a trampoline.

Komachi tilted her head back and yowled in frustration. “Whut gives? It’s not workin’ man! Do I got bum mana or whut?”

Sam scooped her up and took a closer look at the brush. “Hmm, it doesn’t have any Shardscript?”

That meant it didn’t have any enhancements at all. No rarity to empower or channel abilities and spells. The thing was just a normal, ordinary brush given to Komachi by sheer happenstance by that friendly cat girl.

“Bleh, I guess I need a magic tool to use my new stuff. Like what I got for my Bard spells. But you don’t for Void mana!”

“Huh, I guess not.” He wasn’t sure why that was.

Or have I been doing it wrong this entire time? And my Void magic would be hitting even harder with a magic tool.

He rubbed his chin. Nah, no way. Surely somebody would have said something anyway…

Unlike what he could remember from the First Order Jobs, he didn’t have a skill for a magic tool. Void spells came from his Path. He clearly didn’t need that kind of skill to use Void mana. That was what his affinity was for.

Despite arriving at that conclusion, Sam still felt like he was missing something. Mages could have affinities and a magic tool foundation too.

He just didn’t use the equivalent of a magic wand or a manatuned weapon to cast Void magic.

Which means I am missing something, Sam thought. He looked down at Komachi’s mundane painting tools. It was impressive that she was able to gain a Path from such humble origins.

She must have been right on the cusp.

Scrunching up her face with effort, Komachi continued to shake her little brush with the gusto of batting a toy around. “Must. Cast. [Painted Wave]!”

Droplets of blue paint burst from the bristles to no effect.

Sam reached over, scooped her up, and held her close. “Let’s see about getting you a proper magical implement, yeah?”

And maybe I can figure out one for myself.

After all, Raiko used Chaos mana through her weapon. It stood to reason that, since they both had Apocalypse mana, they could likely do the same thing.

Which meant that Sam needed a manatuned weapon. Or something equivalent to it.

Whatever that was.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sam went looking for somebody to talk to about getting some upgrades.

This was the Empire. The beating twinned hearts of Zarishna’s home. Surely there were wonders here that Sam couldn’t even guess at.

Considering their fondness for battle, they surely were at the cutting edge of armaments. They had to have something that blew anything a backwater Blacksmith like himself could accomplish.

If anything, Sam hoped he could apprentice at a smithy here or there and pick up some new tricks.

Or old, technically, Sam reminded himself.

He was somewhere in the Empire’s past. Though how that applied to Il’dran and the Shardrune…Sam couldn’t even begin to guess.

Considering that Zarishna would one day become one of those Immortals, it stood to reason that perhaps she would dodge the physical effects of aging. Though she appeared young now, probably not even in her 20s, he could hardly tell how old she was in the Dead Echo.

Though how she managed to regrow an arm was something Sam was very curious about.

Sam was so deep in thought that as soon as he turned the corner, he nearly bowled over an old man.

The surprised man twisted deftly and turned the stumble into a graceful maneuver worthy of any ballet.

“I’m sorry–” Sam started to say before the old man got within two inches of his face.

Their size difference made it almost comical, if not for the wetness in the man’s eyes, as if he had mistaken Sam for his long-lost son.

“You haven’t aged a day…” the old man muttered.

His green eyes sparkled with youth despite the lines on his face and the white, neatly trimmed beard. Sam thought he should have recognized him.

The old guy certainly expected Sam to. He stepped back and flourished a bow fit for an Emperor. Judging by the jewels on his flowing dark robes, that might be an accurate assessment.

Komachi meowed in greeting at the old man.

“And you, little stinky kitty,” the old man said with a sly grin. The way he said it startled Sam.

There was only one person who he knew with eyes like that and called Komachi such a name.

A name Komachi loved. Largely because it was given to her by a young boy she adored. A young, bright-eyed lad who fished her out of a barrel full of fish guts that Komachi had fallen into while aboard the Wavedancer.

Komachi had reeked for a full three days.

Komachi grinned at that. “Yis, I’ma stinky kitty! Wait…” She looked between Sam and the old man multiple times. Her eyes grew wider and wider until they began to comically drift apart.

“Hey!” the old man said to Sam, poking him with a withered digit. “Don’t you dare look at me like that! I’ve earned every one of these white hairs, don’t you doubt it.”

Unable to find the words, Sam enfolded the old man in a massive hug that lifted his featherlight body off the ground.

“I’m not a little brat anymore!” the old man complained, but Sam noticed he didn’t try to get out of the hold even though he surely could.

There was a tense, coiled power in the old man, like a viper waiting to strike. Sam could hardly believe that this was the boy he knew aboard the Wavedancer.

“Zahif, you have grown!” Sam said as he set him down.

The old man smoothed his robes and gave Sam a sly look. “So you remember me at last, eh?”

“How–?” Sam began, but Zahif seemed to know what he was going to say because he immediately cut him off.

“Nearly a century, Sam.” He straightened his robes once more and then motioned for Sam to follow. He walked straight and proud, unbowed by old age.

“Dang,” Komachi whispered in awe.

“I did as you asked, you know. The crew of the Wavedancer and the captain treated me well. He would have loved to see you again. He passed…oh, a few years back now. Safe and snug in his bed, surrounded by his children and family. The man was a shipping magnate. You can’t take three steps in the markets without seeing his stamp. You’ll get a kick out of it.”

Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes at the news of Captain Galbast’s passing. It was almost too much to bear, for it meant that he would never meet most of the crew again.

Komachi sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “He musta lived a good life!”

Galbast must have been old indeed. When Sam knew the man, he was already pushing into his forties or fifties by the look of him. Then again, the salt aged people differently. Some turned out like hardened leather, while others were rejuvenated.

“What about the Talmoori?” Sam couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah-ha, I knew you would ask about them!” Zahif turned to look over his shoulder and winked at Sam. “Unfortunately for you, Salii found herself a suitable husband and has since abdicated the throne to her third daughter. We keep in contact. They and Galbast were instrumental in helping to form the place you now reside. The Scarlet Lotus.”

“The throne?” Sam got out before his choking cough.

“She was the First Daughter,” Zahif said with a shrug.

“That means Princess of the Talmoori?” Komachi asked, peering up at Zahif.

Sam nodded. “First Mother was like their Queen,” Sam explained. “However, from what Yulan told me, it didn’t seem like a done deal. She had to prove herself first.”

“And she did,” Zahif said, motioning them through a set of curtains that led to the main area where Sam had first met everybody.

“Dang, Sam finds himself with all sorts of royalty,” Komachi remarked with a smug smile.

In the middle of the day, without much to do, the place was fairly deserted. Zahif led them out through a different side entrance that eventually led out onto the second level of a bustling market.

It was like the attack had never happened. No stains, soot, blood, or otherwise marred the stone flooring or walls. People were out and laughing, haggling, yelling, and generally being people.

“I am hardly surprised,” Zahif said. He stepped up to the balustrade and put his hands on the worked stone, breathing in the heady scents of a thousand meals being made and sold. Of exotic spices and the press of so many perfumed bodies.

“Of all the places I have visited in my travels, the Empire remains my favorite,” Zahif admitted. “And believe you me, I have traveled to every corner of this great Shard and back again! It is not perfect, but its many near-tragedies have all been averted by what the imperials call ‘the luck of the righteous’.” He snorted at that. “I’ve begun to think it’s more the meddling of a man and a cat who don’t know when to quit.”

Zahif turned his full green-eyed gaze on Sam. The same youthful sparkle that had once told Sam this young boy was going to make something of himself.

Judging by his fine clothes and the strength he radiated, strength that far surpassed his own, Sam was proud–and sad–to find out he had been right.

He had just hoped that he would be able to go along with the boy. Teach him the things he wished he had been taught. He wanted to be there for him. It twisted his guts to know that a hundred years had passed since they last met.

It was hardly more than a day since Sam said goodbye to the Wavedancer and the spirited boy. Now he stood before Sam, a towering figure of quiet power.

Even if his head barely came up to Sam’s broad chest.

Zahif seemed to sense his thoughts. The man seemed oddly skilled in reading him. “You changed my life, Sam. Meeting you was a blessing from the Kindred gods themselves. Even if Galbast had not given me a ship of my own, I would have forever been changed watching you fight. The Talmoori took me in, gave me the foundations to better myself, and the ship–small though it was–gave me the freedom to see the wide world. You cannot know the depths of my gratitude. I have waited for decades, hoping to find you again, just so I could thank you properly.”

Before Sam could say there was no need, the old man dropped to his knees, bowed his head nearly to the floor and said, “Though you were not with me in flesh, I felt you in spirit. Your guidance lit the way for me. In darkness, you were beside me. In both the good and the bad, I knew I could rely on your teachings, the lessons you imparted. I learned to run only because you taught me the value of walking. I would be nothing without you. Another orphan of a pointless war, angry and alone. Thank you.”

Sam knelt in front of Zahif and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You owe me nothing, Zahif. We are friends, are we not? There is no tally between friends. No debts. Only companionship.”

The old man looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Not even a day,” he muttered in amazement. “Very well, I’ll just have to find another way to repay you.”

“Let’s start with a tour of your home,” Sam said, offering a hand to help Zahif to his feet.