I have taken it under advisement that I should break character, or I think the term is kayfabe. To anyone reading this document, it is of course a matter of historical record. I am penning it much after the fact and it is my duty as historian to prune the information available. However, I do not do this task alone. I have with me some of the laity who look over my texts as test subjects.

Upon their reaction, I have made the difficult decision to prune down this chapter for, as they call it, brevity. The history of the colossus of Ley Port isn’t strictly necessary to understand the story of Lucius von Solhart. Technically, it suffices to know that the brass sculpture stood upon a frame of steel, encased perfectly to prevent rust. Anyone with a lodestone can confirm that magnetic forces have no effect upon brass. This is how Primarus moved it.

Perhaps I will write an appendix entry.

Alas, the battle was fought with only a functional understanding. Anyone who looked upon it understood that the enemy could move the mass of metal. No shield wall could stop it. Keeping their distance didn’t work either, for the stolen cannon was at their disposal. Thralls ran about the fresh-built fort, moving it here and there before blasting gravel into the ranks of men and cutting them down by the score. Three times the cannon fired as Lucius struggled to maintain a hold upon the army formation.

The reveal of the giant was nearly decisive. It twisted morale and made men think that their success had been but a trap, and in a sense it was. Acceptable sacrifices can be like that, in the hands of a callous commander.

Often, the only way to combat an overwhelming stigmata is with another, and Lucius was forced to rely on himself. The fundamental problem of fighting such an enemy hadn’t been solved however. The image of Nikolai’s pincushion body still burned in his mind but that also fueled his anger. With no armor and no weapon, Lucius leapt upon the arm of the colossus.

Primarus had made many sweeping gouges through the city, brutalizing the once great statue by hammering it into jutting ruins. The men had quickly learned how to shelter from the lumbering swats. The damage also provided ample handholds for Lucius to grab onto. He scrambled like a monkey, clambering up the sweeping limb as wastelanders shouted and flung missiles at him.

Had he been alone, I would have seen no fault in his strategy. It leveraged the strengths of his stigmata against Primarus’. The only issue was the indignity of the act and like many winning strategies; what matters first is victory. I have no doubt that Lucius would have been able to dart across the body of the colossus. The cumbersome, self-attracting movements of the metal behemoth gave him ample opportunity to scamper away from attacks and search out the gaping maw of the monstrosity. From there, he could have gotten inside and attacked the magic user directly.

This is not how history proceeded however. While the two entrenched forces attacked one another, the blue flags of Vassermark sailed into port and my seeing-eye crow returned to me.

As I previously noted, I had a personal attachment to the art piece the wastelander had defiled and destroyed. While previously, particularly in this document, I have kept my capabilities subdued because of the potential ramifications from other entities, I admit I took the affront somewhat personally.

I don’t mean to diminish the potential power of mastery over magnetics, though I think this particular stigmata would not have granted particularly useful controls. Had Primarus been a secret weapon, he could have disarmed entire armies in a storm of stolen blades and allowed for catastrophic routs. Trying to use his ability as the lynchpin of a defense was an improper use.

There are simply far more effective means of attack.

Both armies witnessed the white dragon as they termed it, but all I did was suck up a froth of water and apply cyclic compression. Water is treated as an incompressible fluid for good reason. When I opened a spigot in the spell, the so-called white dragon breathed.

A jet stream of salt water cut through the air and carved open the colossus. Ancient patina evaporated, then the plating split. Pressurized water exploded within the body of the giant, bludgeoning the stigmata user until my searching beam ripped his guts out. I only stopped my meager attack when the colossus faltered and collapsed like so much scrap metal upon the fort.

Lucius eventually found Nikolai’s killer trying to pull his intestines back into his belly. My pupil lifted the man off the ground by his hair then slid his blade in through the wastelander’s mouth and out through the spine.

Naturally, the battle was an enormous victory for the men of the north. I had even conspired to bring barrels upon barrels of wine and ale for the victory that I knew would come. The ensuing revelry cemented a good opinion of Lucius among the men but the most critical member of the party did not drink. He did not toast or congratulate minor accolades.

Lucius barely even acknowledged the necessary performance. I could even go so far as to say he completely neglected his duties in favor of tracking me down amid the dismal ruins. Perhaps he thought of assaulting me. He nearly grabbed me by the scruff of my robe. Too many years of obedience kept his hand stayed, but he had enough frustration to speak to me like the surly boy he was.

“You didn’t tell me what you were doing.”

There was no question. He knew he was right. I could only respond, “When have I ever?”

Then he did get into my face. His nostrils flared and his breathing grew strained as he nearly grabbed hold of me. Then he said to me, “Let me make myself very clear, if I find out anything has happened to Aisha while I was away then I will stop at nothing to destroy you.”

“Nothing has happened to the bard, nor what will be your firstborn,” I promised him. “Except that she has met your sister, but they’re getting on fabulously. You have nothing to worry about.”

“The entire reason I swore myself to you was to have the strength to protect the people close to me. So I think you can see the problem here if you start endangering them.”

“Of course, of course. My boy, what happened to you while you were gone?”

Then he told me. “Nikolai died.”

I was at a loss for words. My impression of perfection broke. “How? From that wretch?”

Rather than answer me, he snarled. “When we get back, release Kajsa’s memories.”

I made a hasty inspection of the revelry, spotting dozens of soldiers and thralls that were watching us but perhaps too far to listen. In the name of caution, I put my arm around the boy’s shoulders to guide him further away. The tensing of his muscles was as clear a sign as if I had opened up his brain for inspection, but he followed along.

“My boy, my boy, you know as well as I what is about to happen to Vassermark. These forces have been in motion since before you were born. They’re coming to a head. Soon the secrecy won’t matter.”

As we trekked out to the shore, where the wash of the ocean would muffle our voices, Lucius said, “I may not have lived even a fraction of your lifespan, Master, but don’t you think that makes me a better judge of people than you? You are too different. You see everyone as replaceable.”

“Not everyone,” I said, keeping my hand on his shoulder. “My boy, you are not replaceable.”

Finally, his body softened and he met my gaze again. “You didn’t say you’d release her memories.”

“It’s dangerous! At least until your history will no longer be a threat to the plan.”

“You still haven’t said you’ll do it!”

“She’s just an acquaintance from long ago…”

He snarled and pulled his shoulder from my grasp. “She is my friend. She, and Aisha too, are irreplaceable.”

Relationships and attachments are a gamble in these sorts of affairs. They can provide great motivation to act, but also a great fear of what can be lost. I had several plans about how to secure political alliances, the most obvious of which was Kassandra vi Arandall. For him to be emperor of the world, he would of course have to start with the royal line of Vassermark, or at least one of the great kingdoms. I needed his affection there, in the advantageous realm.

But, the very thing that made him so valuable to me also hindered me. His stigmata, [Undying], relied entirely on his self-image, and that included his mind. No oath, binding, geas, or illusion could be forced upon him and not slowly erode. I could not force him to love someone because of political advantage, and I could not force him to stop loving another. And, of course, a crude method such as murder would never be forgiven.

“I promise,” I said, and gestured to the north where his future awaited. “The moment we return to Puerto Vida, I will have word sent to Rackvidd and from there to the Misty Isles. She will be recalled and set to Podrest to await your arrival. There, she will be restored. But, you cannot ask for more. You have too many duties and responsibilities that must be attended first and foremost. The middle kingdoms are in fractured revolt. It is only a matter of time before it is declared war and you must be the one to bring Jumeaux back into alliance. There will be hardly time to rest after Puerto Vida. Just enough to furnish your army with proper weapons and supplies. Then you will have to march north and she cannot be brought to a warzone.”

“What about Aisha?”

“She is already in Puerto Vida, waiting for you to arrive and surrounded by a garrison loyal to Lord Raymi.”

He turned away from me, eyes set upon the sea. Perhaps he could see the glimmer of Giordanan sand across the horizon. It at least existed within his mind. At last, he nodded. “Fine.”

My relief was palpable, and I ventured to ask, “Did you preserve Nikolai’s body?”

“Cremated. Get your answers from the killer’s corpse. Have you seen to Jean yet? She needs help only you can give.”

My scowl was so fierce it made Lucius step back and nearly grab his sword. “I can save her, but first I will need the book.”