Rilka follows the conversation with increasing unease. Assume Calios is free... she shudders thinking of her time in his lair and the combat at the Sky Forge.
The revelation that the Hand’s memory has been altered snaps her focus back. ”Is there any manner for finding out when your memories were changed? Drosil, have you been affected as well?”
Drosil quietly nods.
"When is hard to tell, but we should be able to figure out if it happened as long as it wasn't too long ago."
"The potency of that magecraft is likely beyond my ability, and it's not even my specialty; I've eschewed the school of enchantment over the years. I'm afraid my help will yield little." The scenario at hand wasn't a pleasant one to consider, but Dalton was encouraged by the Aestherics' seeming desire to get to the bottom of the assault on the council with haste. It seems they are good at prioritizing themselves.
"Given such an assault, may I inquiry if a contingency spell is known to one in these parts? Perhaps creating a defense mechanism with appropriate conditions can help counteract future attacks of this nature."
"It is possible, but the nature of contingencies is limited to only having one, and I'm not sure if that precaution is worth no longer having the life-saving contingencies we currently have in place."
Ianna watches Jasper sympathetically as he lashes out at her. Perhaps I should have chosen different words, since their hearts are pricked by guilt.
"During this new round of training will we have the opportunity for short travel? I would like to avail myself of Malan's craft."
Toramin's reminder of Dalton's father gave the mage pause. He might know what that amount of adamantine could be used for, but bringing him into this could endanger him. Perhaps there was a way to seek his counsel in a circumlocutive manner.
"I would hear of this new plan Krokar alluded to you having for us before moving on though."
"Of course, if you need to go somewhere we can fit it into the schedule."
"Well to give you the short of it, tensions have been rising between Andril and Brumik, and war is probably inevitable at this point. Brumik has it's own government but they're most figureheads who pass laws they can't enforce; the true rulers of Brumik are the merchants. It's a very complex situation, I'm sure once it's fully explained you'll understand it better than I, Dalton."
"What economic incentives does Bremik have for war?"
If memories can be erased, she thinks, can they also be altered? Or people reveal secrets but believe they’ve kept them? For now, we definitely need to be quiet about the time loop.
”War with Brumik?” Rilka says. Her expression is equal parts surprise and dismay. ”Even if I didn’t have friends in the army, I’d want to help stop this.”
"War is good money for the right people. Exactly how much power do the merchants have over Brumik?"
"War is lucrative for the industries that can be turned towards supplying and outfitting large forces, but exports dwindled and luxury items find no markets. War can hurt the overall prosperity of a nation. This suggests to me that there should be divisions amongst the ruling merchant class."
"Resources. It's being made under the guise of liberation, but the areas they plan on annexing they've been sowing the seeds of discontent in, and they just so happen to be some of the richest ground in Erandor in terms of natural resources."
"The merchants have complete control. The government is nothing more than a fleeting shade of an organization."
"Yes they are divided, and we have allies within their higher ranks. That is why we've come to know this information, and they should also be of help."
"If Krokar is coordinating this mission, it will be less focused on spy-craft? How high profile will it be? What exactly is the mission? While Dalgin Kalp supports Andril's sovereignty, it may be awkward diplomatically if Ianna were seen to be involved in a border dispute if there have been no formal declarations from the Voices in the Stone. Have there been?"
"Liberation? That doesn't even make any sense. Are these areas taken by Xilres during the war that Andril hasn't had the manpower to reclaim yet?"
"Alright now, all in good time. We have an entire briefing scheduled to go over everything. For now, you should handle any personal affairs and then be prepared for your next training session."
"Alright now, all in good time. We have an entire briefing scheduled to go over everything. For now, you should handle any personal affairs and then be prepared for your next training session."
Dalton sighed. "How about a training session on getting a good night's sleep? That seems to be quite a formidable challenge these days."
Over the next several days, Ianna goes into seclusion. She fasts and prays, purifying herself, emerging only to speak with other religious scholars and pursuing rare prayer books in the libraries of the hidden fastness of the Aestherics.
As she delves into the deeper aspects of her theology and studies with the other holy men and women, Ianna finds that her connection to her own goddess strengthens. At the Sky Forge Ianna had worried that this blessed connection had been tainted by Droskar, but she discovers that her faith in Bolka is not as strong as Bolka's faith in Ianna. One morning while performing the sacred dances of the Golden Gift, Bolka's light takes physical form and fusing into her skin. Interlinking golden bands twine and glimmer on her right wrist to mark the bond between Bolka and her exalted one.
When the Aestheric leadership sends the riches, which they lavish upon their successful operatives, Ianna commissions a gold plated portable altar. She anoints it will holy oils and dances before it for an entire day and night.
"Altın Hediye, bu sunağı lütufla doldurman için yalvarıyorum. Lütfen ışığını içine boşaltma. Sevginin ışığı tüm ölüm gölgelerini harekete geçirsin. . ."
During the climax of her prayers, Ianna experiences a vision of Bolka reaching down from the Heavens to caress the altar. Her priestess places the accursed bracelet on the hallowed altar, and then channels the healing grace of her goddess to drive out the maledictions of disease.
"Kırık bir adam kendi kırıklığını yaymak için saptırdı. Tanrıça, lütfen kalbinin hastalıklarını bu mücevherlerden arındırıp sağlığı korusun. . ."
Once she has redeemed the Bracelet of Mercy, Ianna places the Tear of Bolka on the altar and begins the longer process of strengthening its enchantments.
Between bouts of training and sparring, Bjorkus explores the Aestheric compound (where he's allowed) and getting to know some of the rank and file Aestheric operatives - some intimately so.
Unlike his first bout of extended training, Bjorkus finds himself taking more and more to the more studious aspects of what it meant to be an Aestheric. On one hand he worries so much easy living is making him soft but on the other he feels new spaces within his mind opening up and he likes it. He might never be a learned mage like Dalton but there were advantages in understanding more of the world around him.
At one point Bjorkus finds himself considering equipment for the next mission. The ferocity granted by Targ's strip of rawhide had served him well but the dark enchantments on Calios's headband were powerful and versatile. Unable to decide between the two of them he approaches Ianna to see what can be accomplished with her knowledge of dwemorcraft.
During one particularly intense sparring session Bjorkus discovers a new transformative talent. One that ends up flattening his opponent and the Aestheric arena. Fearing he might have caught something from the party's shapechanging mage, the bull seeks him out for guidance.
Since being out-of-time, Dalton had a bit of a haze with his thinking. It wasn't him forgetting details; his memory was actually quite good for someone of his years. Rather, the problem seemed to be his thoughts wanted to stretch further, farther into uncharted possibilities than he intended. But are they truly uncharted after being in such a place? Perhaps I just did not observe the final results of those realities. Indeed, the more the mage dwelled on the various paths of his percolating thoughts, the more he felt he needed to appeal for help.
As he went to his chamber that first night back with the Aestherics, he had difficulty sleeping. Tossing and turning, his mind refused to stop running. It was as he was in his youth, except the thoughts were more moribund, more foreboding. Eventually, he found his way into the realm of the subconscious. There, however, a particularly clear dream took hold of him.
At last, the ribbon thrust him in front of the library's steps, perfectly perpendicular as most intersections in the city. He climbed the steps, pulling open the door. Before him, aisles of bookcases stretched nearly to the first of five stories. This seems a familiar sight...
And it was.
Dalton realized during his time after the most recent use of his primal magic had incorporated itself into this dream. This was one of the thought paths he'd entertained in that infinitesimal piece of not-time, his mind exposed to more than he truly knew and retaining only faint remnants of understanding. This particular thought was his consideration of the outer planes, thinking their denizens might be interested in the cosmos not being torn into riddled cheese by time loops - and memory wipes now, evidently. He approached the librarian at the circulation desk with haste, attempting to explain the situation. Only a few sentences in, and it was clear the clerk wasn't giving him the time of day. Odd, for Dalton couldn't seem to perceive precise details about the person, no matter how hard he tried. It's as if certain things are not meant to be revealed to me ... or cannot be predicted.
His fantastical account of events being too far-fetched for the rational-minded inhabitants, he scaled the floors, looking for information about time and paradoxes. Religion ... ethics ... philosophy. One book on the second-to-bottom shelf seemed to stand-out to him, a gentle golden glow surrounding it. He grabbed the book, flipping through the pages. It was an account of noteworthy judgments in a court. Many of the specific details regarding the individuals involved were omitted out of various legalities, though it seemed each case changed the perspective of the community in a profound way. It seems they find insanity to be a defense against crime? Interesting. Non-citizens are entitled to only the most basic underpinnings of humane treatment here? I wonder how often they get visitors like me. Then Dalton saw a name that stood-out to him in the book, for some reason radiating the same golden glow. What significance?.. The case seemed to involve a great deal of sensitive information, most of it redacted from the reports used to form this text. Lifetime imprisonment. That was a long time for outsiders. Confused, Dalton put the book back on the shelf. As he looked outside the window before descending the staircase, he noticed across the street a building with a familiar name. It was the name of the court he'd read about. Time for a look...
After his dream, Dalton woke in a sweat. The information encountered troubled him greatly. If a librarian won't help me, I know someone with books who can at least parlay information. It was time to contact the steward.
Unlike his sister, Toramin does not seek solitude and reflection. He pours his energy into sparing. He seeks to hone his battle skills, and spares with many of the Aestherics.
During a fight with against several construct, he realizes that his blows against such things are particularly potent. Ymir has also grown in size and celestial majesty, and begins to work in tandem with Toramin during team battles.
That is not to say that Toramin does not spend time on spiritual matters, but rather that each swing of his godstouched weapon is prayer to the Father of Creation. His devotions bear fruit, and he improves his abilities at blocking blows meant for others.
There is some restless fire in Toramin that will not let him sit still. In his free time, he wanders the streets of Taryn, or seeks out Geoffrey, or his grand uncle Thrungr. He is in particular eager to show the latter the work of his hands.
Two weeks into what appears will be a lengthy and welcome respite from conflict, Toramin will ask Dalton to teleport him to Wasco.
"I am eager to see Malan. He has the skill to imbue my new arms and armor with greater enchantments, and he is one of the few merchants I would trust to sell Calios' axe and armor. Whatever there origins, they are works of great craft."
A woman cannot enchant and do nothing else.
During the third week or so of their vacation, Ianna will invite Rilka to go dress shopping with her. Ianna will want to patronize the finest dressmakers in the capital. After months dressed as an adventurer, she misses her silks and clothe-of-gold. She will commission ten different dresses, though each must have an element of gold or emerald in honor of her goddess.
Ianna is particularly taken with a black dress of velvet and silk embroidered with interlocking golden gears.
If Rilka comes, Ianna will suggest colors and cuts to highlight Rilka's charms. "Your girlfriend will love this one . . ."
Once fabrics have been selected and cuts considered, Ianna will want see a hairdresser to find what is fashionable in the courts of Taryn and the salons of Darien.
Extended periods of fussing over fabrics and hems wasn't Bjorkus's version of a good morning but in light of the weeks she'd spent in prayer enchanting items for him, providing an escort during Ianna and Rilka's shopping trip is the least the bull can do.
"Why didn't you bring some of your dresses with you when you left Dagn Kalp?" he asks while rubbing some of the delicate lacy material between his rough digits. "I can tell this kinda thing is important to you."
Ianna blushes prettily and ducks her head. "When we left Dalgin Kalp, I wanted you all to take me seriously as an adventurer. I was worried that you would see the lace and the pearls, but miss the woman. I realize now that I was being silly. For better or worse, who we are will always shine through. And it is better to surround ourselves with beauty and those whom we love."
Bjorkus snorts and returns the dress to the elaborate colorful box he'd pulled it from. Those familiar with the bull easily recognize the expression as one of surprise, not dismissal.
"That's probably the smartest damn thing I've heard in days - maybe you should share with the Council. Sometimes I think our minders forget who we were before we came into their service. The amount of blind faith they ask from us sometimes is scary considerin' they're supposed to be all 'peace and freedom'."
The priestess does not respond immediately. She looks thoughtful as he fingers play against a bolt of satin.
"I am not certain that they actually expect trust. Sometimes when we repeat things so often they become more like talismans and less concretely significant. But, I cannot guess at the truth of their hearts.
Each of us sees from our own horizon. From what you, my brother, and Dalton have said at least one of the council has done much to earn mistrust. But how must we seem from their horizon? I know that we horde more than one secret.
Nevertheless, I believe much of the conflict stems from their perception of their own authority and the defiance that the three of you offer in your own ways. Leaders expect their followers to follow. You once told me that a ship can have only one master."
"A ship can only have one captain alright", Bjorkus admits. "But a captain's authority requires his crew's respect. How he comes by that respect varies with the crew but there's usually two options: earn it or demand it. Earnin' it's harder but a captain that forces his crew in submission finds himself with a mutiny on his hands. It's just a matter of time."
The bull shrugs his powerful shoulders. "But what do I know? Pirates aren't aesthertics. Maybe they depend on the conflict their ways breed. Maybe it's just part of the process."
She glances over at him, "It would also help if your crew members actually wanted to be on your ship. Given your mistrust, why do you stay with your current employers? I know why my brother stays: duty. Do you stay for love?"
~Toramin visits Malan in Wasco~
Either by Dalton or a member of the Aestherics, Toramin is teleported to Wasco to visit the old elven smith of legend. Malan is in his same shop, hard at work with his forge when Toramin comes in. He gives a glance at the stony dwarf, then stays on the forge for a few minutes and finishes what he was doing. Then he turns around and leans against an anvil, taking a long drink of water. "What do you need?" He asks bluntly.
~Ianna's Shopping Trip~
Ianna quickly gets caught up on the latest fashions in Taryin. For the women with longer hair, wearing it down with elegant designed braids is all the rage right now. Delicate falling waterfall patterns, wrapping it around their head like a halo, curls that fall like silk; just avoid putting it up, don't want to seem all prissy and uptight!
For Darien, it's a little more complex. As the trade capitol of Erandor, it's the most diverse melting pot in the world. People from all walks of life and corners of the globe are coming through. Even among dwarves the styles are varied enough to warrant a headache. But for a woman of Ianna's station, what seems to command a fair amount of positive feedback is the intricate bumps that almost appear to make one's hair into an ornate headdress.
~Toramin exploring Taryin~
Grand Uncle Thrungr
Imagine Thrungr's surprise and pride at the creation of his grand nephew! Thrungr spends nearly an hour fussing over it and asking questions, like an excited student witnessing smithing for the first time. "Truly, marvelous. How did you come to create such a work of art and war? I simply must know." He says eagerly with a look of anticipation and expectation.
~Everybody~
Toramin has no trouble finding Geoffrey; he has his own office in the castle after all. But getting through the clerk outside to schedule a meeting with him...well suffice it to say it's testing even a dwarf's patience. But at one point Toramin manages to catch Geoffrey just as he is returning, one hand full of half a dozen half-opened scrolls and the other hand massaging his temples. As Toramin calls out his name, Geoffrey's head turns up to reveal a look that's half annoyance and half anger. But as he meets gazes with Toramin they quickly melt away into a tired relief. "Toramin! Oh it's been far too long." He dumps the scrolls on the clerk's desk, much to his annoyance. "Cancel whatever I have coming up, tell them they'll have to come back later." The clerk practically stammers in protest. "B-but sir! The Duke of-" Geoffrey cuts him off with a dismissive wave. "I dissapoint a dozen people every day, if I dissapoint one more in order to keep my sanity I won't lose any sleep." Geoffrey waves away any protestations of Toramin and ushers him into his office.
Geoffrey shuts the door behind them, sitting in one of the chairs next to Toramin on the same far side of his desk. He pulls out a decantor and pours out a rosy-amber colored liquid into a glass, pulling out a second glass and offering a drink to Toramin as well. Regardless, he sits heavily and takes a deep drink, draining over half the glass.
As they're sitting down, Toramin gets a good look at Geoffrey. He looks...older. Like he's aged another five years since he's been gone. The crow's feet under his eyes, the stress marks around his mouth, the very uncharacteristic sag of his posture, the wrinckled clothing and unoiled armor, the shadow of stubble on his face. It even looks like his hair is getting thinner. He seems like a shadow of the bastion of righteousness and youthful energy he used to be.
But all the same he has an open, friendly smile on as he sits down with Toramin. "It is good to see you well. Truly." He smiles and swirls his drink. "Things have been a bit hectic here. Just a lot to do, and everybody wants different things done, and nobody ends up happy." He gives a weary chuckle. "But that's politics, eh? Gotta chip away at it slowly, all we can do to put a little more good into things."
"I've got my reasons", Bjorkus says elusively. "And I'd be lyin' if I said the aestherics weren't doin' some good. For now being part of that is enough."
***
Wasco
Equally brusque, Toramin replies, "I have custom for you both to buy and to sell."
He then lays out the axe, the armor, and the pauldrons. "The armor and the axe are a testament to the craft, though the axe bears a malign enchantment. I do not trust other craftsman enough to sell them such items. You, I believe, could turn their enchantments towards other purposes.
As for the buy, I would like you to strength the wards on my armor and make the saws of my weapon keen. Is this agreeable to you?"
With Grand Uncle Thrungr
"I had a most able teacher. Stone-River advised me at the forge. It was the next best thing to having the Father of Creation himself teach me. What of yourself? What were you able to make of the supplies I sent you?"
Ianna elects to highlight the beauty of her natural curls with a few small braids woven with a plaint thread of gold wire to provide some structure to a very extravagant look.
With Geoffrey
"It is good to see you as well. It is less good to see that you look so unwell. I have told you before, but I will tell you three times: you give no service in self-destruction. Your burdens are heavy. Share them. Lay them down for a time. Take care of yourself, or soon you will have no ability to care for others."
Blunt and to the point, Toramin tries to offer what help he can.
~Malan~
Malan simply nods, taking the sold pieces into the back and putting out the pieces to be modified in the corner. Once the money is handled he says "Two weeks." And promptly gets back to work. A man of few words indeed.
~Grand Uncle~
Geoffrey gives a sad smile and shake of his head, running a hand through his lank hair. "Alas, I can only delegate so much. Some matters must be done personally, and it seems near all my matters these days are as such. And laying them down isn't really an option. Things are...delicate right now." He trails off vaguely.
Toramin's grand uncle goes slack jawed.
Toramin nods.
"There are those in my family who have heard murmurs of trouble between Andril and Brumik. Should the Trealamhgabha be worried about our banking concerns? Is there anything I can do to help ease your burden?"
"He is a giant bullette; swims through magma. Divine servitor of the Father of Creation." Toramin deadpans.
Geoffrey grimaces at mention of Brumik. "Definitely one of the larger issues." He seems conflicted on Toramins question. He drains his glass, reaching to pour himself another. "I...can only say so much. But...if we become at odds with the trade capitol of Erandor, saying that the economy will come under fire is something I wouldnt think is unreasonable to figure out." He takes another sip, looking to Toramin with an honest smile. "Your company and compassion are worth more than you know. Just talking to somebody concerned and wanting to help without just doing it for a favor or to get on my good side. It reminds me of the good people in the world." The sound of raised voices outside is heard and Geoffrey sighs. "Well I suppose I've shirked my duties long enough for the day. Is everyone else doing well? I should treat you all to dinner before you leave again!" He says with somewhat restrained eagerness.
"Well of course I know who he is! Oh Toramin that is incredible! Come, you must tell me everything. Does he still remain in this world? Can others witness him?"
"Likewise, while I hold no great influence in the halls of Dalgin Kalp, it well known that those who do prefer peace and trade in the lowlands. Stability is greatly desired. There were some who thought that stability was achieved when Xilres came under Andril's influence. I, for one, would be surprised if overt hostilities broke out between Bremik and Andril, if only because hostilities might speed Andril's consolidation of Xilres as some one your Queen's council desire. I would be very curious to see who benefits from a war here.
But enough about such matters, I would love to have dinner with you soon. My sister recently returned from Grastle Hollow where she was opening a new banking concern for our family and helping ship in material during their recent shortage. I know she would love to see you again. Though I would suggest rest and a bath before you do, or you may find your house filled with the sacred attendants of a love goddess and yourself married off before you can blink. A husband or wife, she would say, will ease your burdens.
Dalton and Bjorkus both seem well to me. Dalton has mentioned his gratitude that you have been visiting his mother.
Again, please call on me if you need my help."
With Great Uncle Thrungr
Toramin pauses before he speaks again, "I do not know and could not say if I did. Part of his mission was a secret one, but I believe I can show you some of the techniques that I learned under his tutelage."
The paladin is eager to share the technical knowledge. It would only serve to enrich his family, and if he were being completely honest with himself, turn some of the attention away from the peerless craft of the Master Maker and more towards a more deserving smith, his great uncle.
~Bjorkus~
With some magical help, Bjorkus quickly gets in touch with his crew and sets to meet them on the eastern coast of Gesthil. In three days time he is teleported there, where he sees his ship, fine as ever, rocking gently on the waves. He is hailed with grins by his crew; this time he sees they managed to keep control of the ship in his absence.
~Toramin~
Thrungr eagerly sets in and spends as much time as Toramin will allow on learning the lessons Stoneriver taught him.
Geoffrey looks down sheepishly. "Well I can worry about such matters when there's less to do. But yes, let's get that set up. In nine days, come hell or high water, I will make the time." He gives a final smile and ushers Toramin out past what appears to be a very upset man with a violently quibbling double chin and rich colorful clothes.