Chapter 406

Although it was still early morning, the training grounds at Wolfram Manor were quite lively."Again," Devon grunted, stepping back into a high guard. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead, and his chest heaved, but his eyes remained clear and focused, despite this being the twelfth bout.

Nick didn’t argue and shifted his stance, holding a training staff weighted to match the Shard. He wasn't using magic this time, at least not actively, and was instead letting his stats do the work, testing the limits of his physical body against a dedicated warrior.

Initially, Devon insisted he use all his abilities, but they both reached a point where going all out would cause too much collateral damage, not to mention the more esoteric abilities Nick had been developing over the past months.

Eventually, they agreed to restrict themselves more and more with each fight, which was how they became so tired despite never going all out.

Devon lunged forward, feinting and quickly shifting into a sweeping low strike aimed at taking Nick’s legs out.

Nick saw it coming thanks to his heightened perception, but reacting physically was a different matter altogether. He barely managed to hop over the sweep, bringing his staff down in a chopping motion.

Devon twisted his torso, causing the staff to slide harmlessly off his shoulder plate, and drove his elbow into Nick’s ribs.

Nick noted, catching the blow on his forearm. The impact shook his bones and sent him sliding back a few feet.

They broke apart, circling each other on the sand.

“You're still holding back," Devon accused, though a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know you can do more magic than just cast spells.”

"If I used anything like that, Xander would make me replant his entire garden," Nick retorted, spinning the staff. "Besides, I need to remember what it feels like to get hit. Mages get complacent behind their shields.”

The next clash saw him subtly damage Devon’s blade with , forcing him to disengage repeatedly, lest he be left without a weapon.

Just as he was about to strike through the blunted steel, he lowered the staff to signal a break, and they headed over to the water trough to splash their faces.

“Not that I mind sparring with you, but I know you didn't come here just to get bruised," Devon said, wiping his face with a towel. "You have that look. The 'I'm plotting something that might get us all arrested' look, and I should remind you, I’ve already been arrested once in the past few months. I don’t want to add a repeat experience.”

Nick chuckled dryly. "Is it that obvious?”

"Only to me," Devon said. “At least here in Alluria. I’m sure there are quite a few people who’d see through you in Floria. So, what is it? My bet is on the festival; there’s just too much going on around it. Am I right?”

Nick nodded, his expression sobering as he quickly explained what he had managed to piece together. "The Priests are trying to claim the city, Dev. They're saturating the ether with Faith to make Arcane magic harder to cast. If they succeed, the Tower will lose much of its influence. And if the Tower is forced back…"

"Then the Nobles fall, given how little support they’ve been receiving from the Duke,” Devon finished. "And Father loses his supply lines.”

Exactly. We can't allow them to gain that much influence. Nick lowered his voice, glancing toward the manor house where Sonya was sweeping the floors. "And we definitely can't let them establish such a strong foothold in the ether. Otherwise, they'll be able to find her.”

Devon’s grip on his towel tightened, and although he probably didn’t grasp the full danger of the priests claiming the ether, the threat to Sonya and his word was enough to sway him. "So what's the plan?”

“The first thing to understand is that this isn’t part of some big ritual. There’s no single failure point we can exploit,” Nick explained. The Blessing of the Tides could be one such chance, but if at all possible, he’d like to avoid having it all hinge on one shot.

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In a way, it was beneficial because it meant the temples weren’t trying to forcibly expand their gods’ domains, likely because that would cause them to clash with each other, rather than unify them. However, it also made sabotaging their efforts more difficult.

“I believe that the main thing they are working on now is to gain the trust and belief of the general population. That will make any attempt at permanently altering the ether much easier, just as a matter of numbers. Which is also what we need to prevent if we want to stop them.”

Devon slowly nodded, showing that despite being a musclehead, he had a functioning brain and could use it effectively when needed. “So we should undermine the festival, making it seem like the priests’ power isn’t that strong.”

“Indeed,” Nick agreed. “I’ll give you the details of what I need from you later, once I have a better idea of where we stand, but I think it’s possible to do it.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Nick shrugged, “It is what it is. They won’t like it, no, but it’s better than the alternative. Anyway, given how risky it is, I intend to collect a prize.”

Devon lifted a curious eyebrow.

"I'm meeting with Drusilla and Penelope tonight. I'm going to sell them the sabotage,” Nick replied.

“Sell it how?”

"I'm going to imply it's a Tower operation," Nick explained. "Tholm’s shadow is long. If they think the Archmages are finally moving against the temples, they'll be emboldened. I can trade that confidence for concrete support in the North.”

Devon looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're getting scary good at this, Nick. Just... be careful. These people don’t play around.”

“I know," Nick said, tossing the towel into a bin. "But so do I.”

Now he just needed to persuade Xander to join in this whole operation.

The Antler & Ink had now become a kind of unofficial neutral ground for Nick to carry out the more informal parts of his business.

It was fancy enough that nobles wouldn’t be offended by an invitation, since a single bottle of wine could cost anywhere from dozens of silver coins to multiple gold coins, but it also had a rougher look that made it seem less snobbish.

Nick walked past the heavy velvet curtains, ignoring the eyes that followed him through the front room. The maître d', a man who looked like he had been starched along with his suit, bowed deeply.

"Lord Crowley, your party is waiting in the Obsidian Room.”

Nick nodded and followed him to the second floor.

The private room was soundproofed with multiple layers of high-quality silence wards that Nick knew could withstand even a dedicated wind mage, and as he entered, he made sure to subtly layer the over the room to prevent any divination magic.

Inside, Drusilla Boer and Penelope Osmond sat on plush armchairs around a low table, in their official roles as heiresses of their families.

Drusilla looked bored, swirling a glass of red wine as she waited for him to arrive, while Penelope appeared ready to set something on fire. Considering she had always been the more reserved of the two, that was unusual.

"Crowley," Drusilla said as Nick entered. "You're late. Again. It's becoming a habit.”

"A wizard arrives precisely when he means to," Nick quoted sagely, ignoring their confusion as he sat opposite them. "And I had to ensure the preparations were complete.”

Penelope leaned forward, meeting his eyes in a challenge. "Preparations? Does that mean Tholm has finally decided to act? My father is losing patience, Nicholas. We’ve had to endure far too much sniffing about our lands lately, and the sooner we can finish with the priests, the sooner we’ll be able to get a grip on the situation up north.”

"Tholm is cautious for good reasons," Nick said smoothly as he poured himself a glass of water. "He cannot be seen to attack a religious ceremony openly. It would start a civil war, and things would fall apart even faster.”

“So should we twiddle our thumbs while they keep growing stronger?” Penelope shot back, her agitation intensifying.

"We do not do ," Nick corrected with a reproachful look, and it was a testament to his growing reputation that it was enough to give her pause. “But it means we must be subtle about it.”

He placed his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers, and began to outline his plan. “The Festival of Renewal is a multi-day event, with spectacles and blessings to be distributed each day. The priests intend to use the occasion to strengthen their hold over the city, but by positioning themselves in such a public space, they also risk damaging their reputation if things start to go wrong.”

Drusilla stopped swirling her wine and looked at Nick, dissecting him with her gaze. “I imagine these unexpected difficulties would be very public and very embarrassing?”

"The ether is a volatile thing," Nick said, with a mask of polite neutrality on his face. "Especially when so many conflicting intents are gathered in one place. Accidents happen, even to High Priests. There is a reason why mages are so cautious of it, after all.”

The implication hung in the air, unspoken but very clear.

"If such accidents... were to happen," Drusilla said slowly, "it would definitely change the conversation in the city and show that the Priests do not have the absolute authority they claim.”

Nick nodded, and even Penelope calmed down, seeing the sense in his words.

“But it still wouldn’t fix the underlying problem,” Drusilla pointed out.

Hiding a grimace, Nick waved her off. “Yes, their grudge will keep festering, and they will look for another way to execute their revenge, but we’ll have gained time and space to maneuver. As things stand, no one is moving as quickly as they are, so our priority is to stop their ascent. Then we can start thinking about resolving the origin of the conflict.”

If he could, he would hand over Hone and watch the temples burn him alive for his actions, but no matter how much he disliked the man, maintaining the Tower’s independence was more important.

“If this were to happen,” Penelope said, “then we will make sure to strike while the iron is hot and take back control of the strategic infrastructure.”

She gave him a meaningful look afterward, and he nodded, indicating he understood. Without easy access to the Valis waterways, it would be difficult for them to meet their obligations beyond the bare minimum.

"Trust in the Tower," Nick said in lieu of an answer, raising his glass. “Or at least in its self-interest.”

An hour later, Nick was leaving the tavern, his pockets noticeably emptier. The two heiresses might have had far more wealth than he did, but they certainly weren’t shy about spending other people’s money.

Still, the deal was made. If he pulled it off, his father would get the support needed to advance the front line, and the Tower would regain its footing in the city.

Turning down a quiet side street to avoid the main road where festival preparations were causing a traffic jam, he suddenly stopped.

A wave of emotion swept over him. It was cold, jagged, and all too obvious because of the tense atmosphere. Hate, pure and focused, was festering nearby.

Nick’s flared, and he turned his head, looking down a narrow alley that ran parallel to the tavern.

Someone was lurking in the shadows, and they were up to no good.