Chapter 410

Where day one of the festival was a much-needed first glance and a somewhat foolish attempt at ending things before they could even begin, day two was a dissection.While the rest of the city drank spiced wine and marveled at the minor miracles freely performed by the acolytes that would normally cost them quite a pretty penny to see, Nick spent the hours sitting on a crate near the secondary stage, his eyes half-closed, watching the weave of magic with the cold detachment of a surgeon.

He watched a Priest of Sashara light a hundred candles with a single breath. He watched a cleric of Ulter purify a stagnant well with a hum and a prayer.

Throughout it all, he stuck to observing. After the Tidemaster’s passage, it was obvious to him that he was still missing something essential about faith-based magic, and with time running out before the Blessing of the Tides was performed, he had to learn what that was very quickly.

he observed, watching the ether ripple after a priest healed a child’s scrape.

It was a fundamental difference, one that would’ve been useless in battle, but when it came to winning the hearts and minds of the people, it was like a cheat code.

It also explained why the faiths had been allowed to persist for so long without much serious opposition. Sure, some of it might have been because old figures like Marthas were in the background, ensuring that their chosen gods could be proselytized without interference, but that couldn't have been the entire reason.

He slowly nodded to himself. The division of power within Berea was much more complex than most people realized, with each faction playing its part to keep the others in control, preventing their natural advantages from giving them too much power.

And now, the priests were trying to overturn that, while simultaneously acting as victims and strengthening their stance against any retaliation.

Considering the power Politod had shown him in the “lesson” he’d administered, Nick doubted there was anything the Tower couldn’t do, yet they were sitting on their hands, which meant there had to be something else at play.

He spent the afternoon like that, watching the ripples caused by the holy powers being invoked throughout the festival, observing how they altered the ether and the people within.

It was hard for him to keep to himself. He truly wanted to make a discordant note, but he had learned his lesson. When he next struck, he would have to make it count.

Day three was both more of the same and a completely different challenge.

There was nothing in the priests’ behavior to raise suspicion. They continued offering free healthcare and spectacles to everyone who visited, which by this point was almost the entire civilian population of Alluria, yet a feeling of anticipation was growing beneath the surface.

Everyone, even if they weren't aware of the broader situation, seemed to realize they were working toward something, and they all looked forward to seeing what great things the Blessing of the Tides might bring.

“What’s the status?” Nick murmured, his voice barely audible over the chatter of thousands of people.

“The crowd density is reaching critical levels," Bellamy’s voice returned, carried on a whisper of wind. "If there's a panic, people will get crushed. The guards have prepared to divert the flow, but many casualties are likely if mass panic takes over.”

“The target is moving," Eona reported next. "Marius is ten rows back from the stage, just to the left. He looks pretty bad.”

Nick spotted him and saw that indeed, Marius Illismonde looked like a ghost. His skin was gray, his eyes feverish and sunken, and he was clutching his satchel to his chest with a grip so tight his knuckles turned blue.

Radiating off him in waves thick enough that Nick was surprised no one else could sense them was fanaticism and terror.

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Nick thought. The idea that a noble scion would risk his life in such a reckless act would have many ripple effects, even beyond the death and destruction it would directly cause.

Yet, Marius’ madness wasn’t the main thing he was worried about. Oh, he’d need to do something about it, no doubt, but over the past hour, the main balcony that overlooked the plaza had filled with a gallery of monsters, and it was becoming very distracting.

Duke Alluria sat in the center, looking like a lion bored by the antics of sheep but very much present despite his efforts to stay out of the current tensions so far. To his right sat Tholm, who occasionally made a comment, provoking a snort or a snipe from the noble. Next to him, Vice Master Politod was reading a book, seemingly ignoring the whole event. On the other side of the Duke, Bishop Umlaut had his eyes closed, although his lips moved in prayer from time to time.

Other nobles and priests mingled around, not important enough for a front-row seat but still deserving to be on the sidelines.

People sometimes looked up at them, curious about the display of real power, but they seemed unaware of the true strength right in front of them.

Nick, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the fountains of power, and the more monsters joined them, the more he wondered how it was even possible that the priests wanted to carry out their plan right before their very eyes.

Again, he had the terrible feeling that he was just an ant beside giants. He knew that wasn’t true, but after Politod’s lesson, it was hard to see it any other way.

As mid-morning neared and the final VIPs arrived, a quiet silence settled over the crowd.

The High Priest of Ulter, Tidemaster Ismal, stepped up to the white stone platform.

He looked as humble as ever, though Nick could see the faint shimmer of several artifacts embedded in his brow, but his mere appearance was enough to bring everything to a stop.

“Welcome, children of Alluria,” his voice echoed in the sudden silence. There was no real spell around him, but the weight of his presence was enough to make sure everyone heard him anyway.

In a way, it reminded Nick of Xander’s ability to project his aura. He didn’t think the Tidemaster was as powerful as the Grandmaster, but maybe, in this tense environment, he could be.

“Today, and over the past two days, we have all gathered to celebrate life and freedom. Our faith was tested in recent months as criminals and demons attacked our peace, but our spirits proved stronger! Together, we rose from the ashes,” and here he nodded to the red-robed priests, giving Sashara’s cult their due, “together, we set sail toward the horizon once more!”

A cheer arose from the thousands of people gathered, and even more were on their way, drawn toward the plaza by the Tidemaster’s voice.

In the crowd, Marius moved, unnoticed by everyone, as even the guards’ attention was on the platform.

Slowly, he circled around, slipping through the cracks. Only Nick and his friends kept track of him, pushing through the crowd, until Marius reached the back of the platform.

The Tidemaster continued speaking, urging the people to keep their hearts open to the grace of the gods and to draw inspiration from the kindness shown by so many priests over the past few days. It was a nice speech, and he was certainly charismatic enough, but Nick only had eyes for one person.

Despite all odds, no one stopped Marius as he slipped beneath the platform. It was like they couldn’t see him, or maybe the draw of the Tidemaster was simply too strong.

Power was building in the air as the priests’ hard work over the days began to show. With every beat of the speech, the ether rumbled, and the sense of gratitude, of subservience, grew to dangerous levels.

Nick admitted to himself, before snorting at the understatement. The Blessing of the Tides was approaching, and he desperately needed to put a halt to that, but even more importantly, he had to prevent Marius from turning the whole thing into a massacre, especially since he would likely be vaporized in the blast, given that it was supposed to take out the Tidemaster.

Time seemed to slow as Nick finally moved out of the crowd and under the platform.

The ether thrummed once again, and he almost lost focus long enough to miss Marius’ glee as he pulled out a box and flipped the lid open.

Inside, a purple crystal sat on a red velvet cushion, and its mere reveal was enough to send a discordant note through the ether.

Power continued to surge all around them, and from afar, Nick could sense the reactions of people in the VIP balcony, finally realizing that something else was happening.

The Tidemaster’s draw was too strong to notice where the disturbance originated, though, and he knew it was up to him, just as Valeriana had told him. No one else could react quickly enough or even understand what the threat was.

By then, the speech was reaching its climax. It would be just a minute or two before the blessing was given, and Nick would have worried about having to divide his attention between the two, because just as he couldn’t let Marius interfere, letting the Tidemaster finish his magic would be just as disastrous.

Fortunately, it seemed that the young noble simply couldn’t wait any longer. His finger moved across the jagged edge of the crystal, splitting as easily as if on a blade, and blood ran down its length, causing the artifact to flash with mana.

An insidious power started to grow inside, almost as repulsive as demonic taint, if it were changed in some strange manner.

Nick, however, didn't panic. He remained calm and rooted himself in his Pride.

Was it not the height of arrogance to think he could do this on his own? That all the mighty warriors and archmages standing just hundreds of feet away were merely spectators, while he was the one turning the wheel of fate?

Had he not withstood the lesson Politod wanted to break him with, only suffering wounds of the flesh, but not the heart?

He was the center of the tangled web of influence and power within Alluria. It was through him, and him alone, that the Shadows could sway the board. Tholm’s help would ensure that no one interfered with his work, but it was still he who had to see it through to completion!

Pride built up inside him, and Nick had to suppress a mad laugh at the realization that, despite several people trying to deflate his arrogance, it was that very trait that would help him succeed.

He raised his hand and pointed a finger at the crystal, unconcerned that he was stepping out of the shadows or that Marius’ wide, unfocused eyes had snapped to him.

",” he chanted, and there was light.