42

The Trinity Arcana

‘Aren’t you going to take one?’

‘No need, for shedding season is still a while off. We reptilians produce no noticeable odour, either. I can’t imagine what it’s like to produce such noxious, bodily stench constantly. I pity your kind.’

Even to Ludgar’s nose, he noticed no smell. Strange, and completely unfair. However, he had heard of what a nightmare reptilian shedding is, so he didn’t feel too jealous.

The towel clad Ludgar entered the washroom, leaving Sethel out and alone, not sure what to do with himself. He wondered if this fort held a library, then remembered that most mercs can’t read, most likely. He had heard of the wonders of Savanti, but was quite unfamiliar with the layout. Maybe a wander through the streets would find him something of interest.

He was about to set off on his excursion, when a voice called out at the end of the grey, stone hallway.

‘You there! Wizard!’

The commanding grey wolf Toulmonde approached, now out of the battlefield overcoat that she and Ludgar always chose to wear, and now in a more comfortable sleeveless shirt.

‘Whatever it was,’ he said, hands raised in a gesture of innocence, ‘I assure you, it was a pure accident.’

‘What? No… Why? Have you done something?’

‘Probably.’

‘Come. Have a drink with me. It’s not often I have a chance to speak with a mage.’

With no better option, Sethel chose to follow her. It was probably for the best, as Ludgar found that Sethel should never be left alone and unsupervised.

She brought the mage to a lounge room with velvet couches, heavy sitting chairs, and a grand fireplace that in total consumed the logs from many, many forests. Given the luxury of furniture on display in this room once meant for war, he deduced that Savanti had seen little war in its entire existence.

‘Please,’ she said, making her way behind a counter to an exuberant liquor cabinet that was built into the stone wall, ‘make yourself comfortable.’

Sethel sat in a way that he found most comfortable, which was back straight, hands on knees, and head facing directly forward. He only really found himself comfortable when he was alone and with a good book, but he didn’t want to disappoint his host. In truth, she actually scared him a little. There was something quite commanding about her. He wasn’t used to it. Ludgar was his leader, at least technically so, yet he always let Sethel do what he wanted, and didn’t care so long as he got the right results.

‘I must say,’ Sethel began, ‘I would never have thought a city full of artists would require such a security force.’

‘Would you trust any of these people to be able to police themselves?’ Toulmonde brought over a few glasses and a tall decanter, which she placed on the table between them. ‘It’s why no army recruiters come through here. They tend to do more damage to their own side than any other.’

As cities go, Savanti is one of the least tactically defensive ones in possibly the entire world. It lacked walls, had no moat, the buildings were fragile, and the people had no combat experience beyond what had been acted out in plays and street performances. They made for nice bards, but could never figure out which end one should hold a sword.

Even so, it is the only city that has never been besieged, as far as anyone was aware. There are many factors contributing to this: it was quite out of the way, provided no military advantage, and proved impossible to hold. And if the country is overthrown, then Savanti acts as the palm trees that surround it and bends with the changing wind.

When an army does invade against its own better judgement, Lord Trister is usually the first to greet them.

That was Lord Trister’s entire strategy: let everyone in. You go in ready to fight, then you’re hit by so many beautiful women, so many drinks, and so much more illicit things that you end up walking through to the other side a lot more satisfied, a lot more confused, and your pockets a hell of a lot lighter.

Their old crew had invaded once before. In fact Ludgar was the one leading it. Ludgar insisted he remembered invading, or everything leading up to the invasion anyway. Then it all became a blur, with strange memories of a bed made from water, an entire barrel of plumtree oil, and for some reason, a pineapple.

No one could tell for sure where the strange memories began, but they could guess it had something to do with the eccentric Lord Trister. Having him in charge of the city was a treat, and like all treats, should only be indulged in moderation.

Sethel and Toulmonde spoke at length about this, and soon the conversation drifted to more immediate events.

‘Ludgar is… he’s stronger than I expected,’ Toulmonde said, between sips of her brandy. ‘I don’t think joining the Evandian army would have made him that strong. Something’s… off.’

‘You assume it’s magical in nature?’ Sethel said.

‘I do, and I’m willing to bet you have something to do with that, or at least know something.’

‘Quite astute. You’re more perceptive than most soldiers for hire; even more so than the average person in general.’

She smirked at that as she poured full some glasses from a tall decanter containing a rich, caramel coloured liquid. ‘You don’t spend years fighting alongside someone without understanding them.’

‘It has been a while since you last met, according to your last interaction.’

‘Not long enough for that kind of a difference. At any rate, it’s clear. Ludgar has eclipsed me. If I hadn’t resorted to the tactics I did, I would have lost. I would have lost by a wide margin. If that happened in front of my men, well… you can imagine how that would look.’ She handed him a glass.

‘I suppose so.’

‘You know how big that makes you feel?’

‘Not very, but I can hazard a guess.’

‘Exactly. I never want to feel that small again. I must eclipse Ludgar. Take things back to the way they should be.’

‘An eclipse of an eclipse. Some see it as an ill omen, should the sibling moons join to block out the sun. If you will, allow me a moment to indulge my curiosity.’ He pulled a handful of coins from his robe and dropped them onto the table. ‘I want you to bring your hand over, just above the coins.’

She was confused, yet curious, and did as he asked.

‘Now, Commander Toulmonde. Focus.’

Plumbing is such a marvel. It’s a wonder how anyone had ever lived without it. A crank of the lever, and steaming water poured forth from a brass pipe into a copper basin. Toulmonde must be doing well for herself. She lived better than most people in the city.

It was quite a difference from the Evandian way of heating things, which involved pouring the water in yourself and heating it from beneath with polished atterrock. The League didn’t have access to anywhere like the Vesterwys University until after the war, and had to rely on other methods to give them the edge. Mostly that of steel and industry, which he could see through the window in the smoldering, amber haze of the sun setting beyond the clouds of the glassblowing foundries.

The water came out hot, filling the room with gentle steam.

When was the last time he bathed in hot water? Longer than he’d like to admit.

As the basin filled, he looked at the various soaps and glass containers coloured liquid that lined the shelves.

He opened one. It smelt of lavender. He opened another. It smelt of fruit.

Why couldn’t they have the scent of something more appropriate? Like a nice meadow, or cooked meat, or a forest fire.

He couldn’t decide which and went for both, hoping they would mix into another smell altogether. The liquids merged with the falling water, and rapidly bubbled up. It surprised him how little he needed to get so much.

The tub got good and full and radiated inviting steam and heat.

An experimental dip of the toes broke the surface. Too hot.

He pulled another lever and the water came down to a more manageable level. The bubbles rose around him, as he lowered his body into the tub.

Warm. Clean. Purifying.

How long had it been since he was this comfortable? Maybe the bed after he got his strange blade. Then again, he had been asleep for most of that.

He sank down, so only his nose and above was out of the water, and his mind began to wander.

Toulmonde was doing well for herself; far better than Ludgar was. Hell, even Belfry seemed to be doing pretty well. Had he made the right decision all those years ago?

Quite a few winters had passed since the war ended, around eight or nine maybe, but he lost count. What did he have to show for his time in the Evandian army other than a lot of wasted time and a lot more wasted money?

Perhaps he should have stayed. Guild work didn’t seem so bad…

No.

Guard shops and the wealthy was not what he would like to be doing with himself. A steady career was the last thing he wanted.

Then what did he want?

He sank down below the water, letting it wash over his head.

The only time ever felt truly alive was in the fight, dancing on the edge of death. His mind always wandered back to that moment with that girl, deep below the ground in the secret temple to ancient, unknown gods.

Lazuli.

That was it.

That’s what he wanted.

That was the last time he felt like he was fully living.

‘You see the way the coins move?’

‘I- I do!’ She gazed at copper discs gently rotating beneath her hand.

‘I knew it. I had an inkling that your body enhancements were more magical in nature than alchemical.’

‘How do you figure?’ Her hand turned over, and the coins followed, tumbling over themselves with a calm grace, as though they were cubes of ice floating in water.

‘Because no potion has ever been able to make enhancements like yours. I know. I’ve tried. If Lord Trister made that type of potion, he would be richer than all the kings of the world. Do you know how the universities make most of their money?’

Her concentration broke, and the coins fell into her hand. She handed them back to Sethel. ‘The ridiculous tuitions?’

‘Certainly a part of it, but no. They get the vast majority of their money from ludicrous grants by nobles to receive court magi who teach them all of this.’

‘I... Oh. Wait. Then that means-’

‘Yes. Arcana is not necessarily inherent to the nobility. They’re just the ones who can afford to explore it. A clever mistruth to keep magic exclusive. You can have some who are gifted by nature, like the young vulpine of ours, and the natural evolution of the mixing of noble bloodlines would lead to some lords who have attained vast amounts of reserve arcana. Then this develops into Talents, and here we are.’

‘Are you saying I could be of noble descent?’

‘Possibly. Possibly not. But if you don’t train it the correct way, it could just manifest in peculiar ways. Such as your current... brassiere predicament.’

‘Then what magic do I have?’

‘The effect you have upon the objects determines the type of magic which you have an affinity towards. By this, I deem you as an Alterator.’

‘A what?’

‘One who may alter themselves or the world around them in some manner. Look.’ He pulled out a necklace carrying a pendant of a triangle with equal length sides. Lines ran from the centre outwards, like rays of powerful light from a luminous, central source, and the lines touching each of the three points being much thicker than the others. ‘This is the symbol of magic. The Trinity Arcana. It represents each discipline that we study, and what it can develop into. Each point represents a different discipline: Emission, Alteration, and Conjuration. These are the ways by which we impart our divine will onto the world, as the gods did when shaping it, either through what we channel from within ourselves into an outward force, what we harness to change the world around us, or what we bring from distant places.’

‘What about the centre point?’ She pointed at the middle within the triangle. An eye-like circle which metal lines representing rays of light radiated from.

‘Ah. Now that is technically a different discipline. We call it the Inner Discipline: Augmentation. This is where the latent arcana resides; that which seeps into all others. From here derives the other three disciplines, and a high level of mana results in superior strength, speed, durability, attributes like that.’

‘So you and all mages are this strong then?’

‘Unfortunately, no. We sacrifice our latent Augmentation to become proficient in all Outer Disciplines. I may be able to summon thunder and cause the ground to quake, yet a single punch may render me unconscious.’

‘Well, that actually seems a fair compromise.’

‘So it seems, yes. Magic has a way of working itself out like that.’

‘Arcana and magic? What’s the difference?’

‘Technically, nothing. It’s all just different terms for the same thing. From the days when they believed it to be a divine gift from the heavens, and understood little of it. Today, we still understand little, but now we have managed to categorize how little we understand. At least, until the categories change again, then we go right back to square one. For now, we call it “arcana.”’

‘How interesting. I never really got the chance to talk to a real mage. You’re all so secretive.’

‘Oh yes. Deservedly so. If this knowledge was to be made public, then can you imagine all the chaos that would cause?’

‘So then, why tell me?’

‘It’s complicated. There are many reasons. Let’s just say I’m getting revenge, in my own way.’

‘That I can understand.’ She finished off her glass and filled it again. ‘So… You’re just telling me all this?’

‘That right.’

‘For free?’

‘Certainly so.’

‘And you get nothing out of it?’

‘I wouldn’t necessarily say that I get nothing out of it. Consider it an experiment on my part. A way for me to satiate my natural curiosity. Arcana manifests in so many ways for so many people, that we are simply hampering ourselves by keeping it exclusive in the pursuit of fiscal gain. I believe it should be open to the public, so we can study and devise new spellcraft from unique individuals. Plus, those bastards threw me out and I’ll be damned if I don’t make them pay for it in some way.’

She chuckled and took another swig. ‘This is a huge secret, right?’

‘Correct.’

‘You’ve told me why, so how are you telling me this? I doubt they would just let you walk with all this knowledge.’

‘Very astute of you. You’re right. They have methods for extracting memories. “Expulsion” doesn’t just mean being kicked out of university, after all. I found a way around such methods. Right now, they believe I’m just a magicless madman yelling at people in the streets.’ He took a glass, had a swig, reflexively scrunched up his face and put it back down. ‘What they don’t know is that I’m a madman who still knows magic... who only sometimes yells at people in the streets.’

Strange. Sethel found himself talking much more than usual. That’s not the unusual part; he liked talking a lot, but most people would either stop listening or quickly find a way to make him stop.

Toulmonde listened. She listened well, and absorbed every detail.

Maybe it was because he was telling her secret information that the mages may want him killed for.

Either way, it was nice having someone listen this much. Made for a nice change.

The doors flew open, and a fresher looking Ludgar walked in, now clad in comfortable, expensive, and completely unsuitable night robes.

‘Where the fuck are my clothes?’

‘Being washed. They stank as much as you did.’ She lifted her glass, presenting the liquid sloshing inside. ‘Come. Have a drink.’

Ludgar sat beside her, and lifted a glass. The caramel coloured liquid glistened in the candlelight, and smelled rich, familiar, and beyond inviting.

He took a sip.

That was Goustenwal brandy alright. Rich and sweet with slight oaky tones.Yet there was something off with it. Something strange with the aftertaste, just at the back of his tongue.

Was this a bad batch? No, it tasted the same. So why didn’t he like it?

Maybe it wasn’t the brandy.

Maybe it tasted the same as it always did.

Maybe it wasn’t the drinks that had changed.

He poured himself another glass and downed it in one go.

Fuck it. He wasn’t there for the taste.

He was there to get drunk.