(I) Capital

199 (I)

Capital

As the Educator's power seeped out from within Solzimort, the distant darkness faded, growing from an impenetrable black to merely being a translucent veil of mist. Shiv tasted the divination and empowering spell she was weaving. A dizzying array of shapes began dancing and twisting upon the surface of Solzimort, and that power lent itself to everyone within the Hydra as well.

The first thing that came to light was the soil beneath their feet, soil that Shiv hadn't paid any attention to. It ran under them like currents of ash, but it was bright and rich with nutrition. He could practically taste the vitality radiating from it, ruby red and gleeful in intensity.

The Yellowstone Supervolcano rumbled behind them, and waves of heat radiated forth, leaving faint distortions upon the air. The ceaseless clamor of combat continued, but ahead the horizon was clear. They crossed the mess of trench lines fused in the side of the mountain and slipped beyond the hovering stages forged from mithril and the countless members of the Prismatic Guard that spawned from them. Now, the path before them loomed with uncertain promise.

A sea of clouds drifted nearby, splashing against the sloping face of a mountain. They seemed as if the surface of a lake reflecting the sheen of a clear sky. It was then that Shiv realized how high up they were, how grand and tall the supervolcano was, and far below, from end to end, stretching on beyond the bend of the horizon, was the capital of the Yellowstone Republic.

The mithril spires he saw in the distance were connected to the massive castle crowning the apex of the supervolcano. Streams of magma bound the varied peaks that dotted the capital, but below, stripped bare of shadows, was a glorious city forged of brass, silver, and mithril.

Shiv had described Blackedge as quaint and rustic in certain ways. Its architecture was mostly transplanted from a village upon the outer edges of the town. The military installations built upon Blackedge were designed with practicality in mind. They were brutalist structures, made to endure, made to serve as soldiers of war, rather than for any manner of comfort. But ultimately, Blackedge had disarmed, as per the conditions of the treaty, and what followed was something deceptively meager.

As such, Blackedge couldn't be compared to the capital. It barely looked like a place spawned from the same civilization. The first words you would use to describe the capital were vast, grand, and made for walking. The exterior of the houses here reminded him of a beetle's carapace. They were mostly brass, radiating a burnished gleam that was nearly reflective in terms of texture. Silvered filigree outlined the frames of windows and doors, and they continued crawling forth along the exterior of the building, serving as illustrative decor. Even from afar, he could see intricate art pieces depicted by the silver; depictions of people outlined in glimmering traces upon the sides of the buildings.

And then there was the mithril as well. The Republic was rich in that magical-conducting material. It ran from the tops of buildings, connecting each to each in rigging chains. Spellstuff circulated from point to point, and Shiv realized that the mithril supports within the prison had been built similarly. The capital was a network of magic, and using his Farsight, he followed the flow of the mana, watched as it circulated from large towers forged of mithril and guarded by hovering dimensionals.

And that was another thing: the dimensionals. The skies were full of them. But these weren't any kind of dimensional Shiv knew. They were armored, clad in dense adamantine, bearing spear tips imbued with fire, ice, or some other element, holding shields that were not of solid alloy but instead resembled a complex array of ever-shifting constellations. Within their helmets burned a single cyclopean eye, and they scoured the streets below with waves of Divination.

"The Watchers are out," Adam rasped. "And now there's a lot more than I can remember seeing before."

Shiv started counting the Watchers. Each tower seemed to have about four assigned to it. But then, with how wide the capital was and how many mithril towers stood in the distance, the Deathless felt a building sense of awe and apprehension grow within him. They had a few more minutes before the shadow shape infusing Solzimort wore out, but even if the Educator could hide them from the other Ascendants, that didn't stop them from being physically observable.

They needed to find some place to hide, and that wouldn't be on the streets. Not a chance in all the hells.

As Solzimort started moving again, more of the city came into view. Compared to Weave, the Yellowstone Republic’s capital was much flatter. Instead of climbing high, it was content to spread. The grand structures of Weave were bathed in the soft glow of night glass, and the structures there were connected by bridges, while people traveled through the air on summoned demons. Here, the airspace belonged to the Prismatic Guard and the so-called Watchers. The chirps of birds were their only companion, and aside from that, the sky was clear.

Upon further observation, the buildings of the capital were often stacked together, connected horizontally before ending along the edge of a street. And the streets here were wide. What counted as a thoroughfare at Blackedge was a common road here. The center of these streets was lined with rolling tiles of polished stone, their color faint and gray, as if to not reflect so much light nor carry too much heat from the glare of the sun.

Flanking the streets were stretches of rich black soil, manicured shrubbery, and constantly blooming plants, erupting in petals of myriad colors, with the palette offering something for every eye to enjoy. Every few meters, there seemed to be a grand pine, or some manner of pointed tree. His eyes fell upon a few of those grand pillars and saw birds perched upon thick branches, yet some of the birds looked different from the others. Some seemed mechanical, their eyes glowing with an automaton's gleam, their wings things of reflective metal.

The telepathic broadcast washed out from the mithral towers in spreading waves. It looked like translucent eddies dotting the surface of a lake. Even from afar, you could hear the notification repeating over and over again. Looking upon the streets once more, you would realize that there were people fleeing into every building, but some stayed. Some who wore grand arms and emitted powerful magical fields. Some dressed in the regalia of the Prismatic Guard, some who were obviously inquisitors, and some Pathbearers who just didn't seem to care.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Bursts of static blackness caught his attention then, and he looked down to see the doors of one of the mithral towers swing open. He caught sight of the building's inside and saw what looked to be pulsating spheres of Dimensionality.

"Jump towers," Adam told Shiv. "That's probably what you're looking at right now. They're shuttling the auxiliaries all across the city. Soon, the streets will be packed with soldiers. The Geomancers will be arriving first, followed by additional Jump Magi. They're going to be placing wards all over the buildings, making sure that the infrastructure suffers as little as possible should an actual battle take place."

"Why don't we have any of this cool shit at Blackedge?" Shiv muttered.

Adam gave a bitter snort. "I asked my father about that the first time I came back from the capital."

"What'd he say?"

"That anything constituting an arms build-up would be damaging for relations between the surface and the abyss. That the monsters of the Abyss would be provoked by a growing force of arms. The crisis and dilemma of escalation, he called it."

"Yeah, turns out the Republic might be full of shit," Shiv said.

“Turned out that the actual agitators were coming from within,” Adam spat.

"So, uh, where should we go now?" Solzimort asked. The Hydra sounded worried, and Shiv didn't blame him. The streets were being swept by beams of Divination. There were people everywhere, and wherever they spotted a threat, one of the mithral towers could simply deploy an emergency wave of troopers to contend with the matter.

"So, what's stopping us from making a run for the border?" Shiv asked, addressing the Educator. "We're fast enough; we can clear the capital in no time at all. We don't need to stay here."

A moment of hesitation followed. Before the Educator could say anything, Shiv's Psycho-Cartography called for him to bite down on her metaphorical neck and be aggressive. "How powerful is that tome of yours anyway? I know that Harlock can't notice us right now, but there's gotta be a reason why you don't just go, 'yeah, let's leave,' if our goal is to escape."

A scoff came from the Educator, and Shiv tasted the frustration radiating from her mind.

"Wait," Adam cut into the conversation. "An incandescence was leaking out from you earlier." A beat followed as the Gate Lord consolidated his thoughts, and when he came to a realization, he announced it with a laugh. "Your tome's emitting divine mana. Are you melding your divinity into Harlock's? Is that how you hide yourself? By using someone else's mana as a cloak?"

The Educator hesitated once more, but this time she let slip a breath of annoyance, and now Shiv let out a bark of amused laughter. "Alright, so that's why we can't make a run for the border. The moment we break free of Harlock's darkness, he'll see us again, because there's nothing hiding where we are. Cute trick. Are you the one doing it, or is that mainly your tome?”

the Educator said, her voice thick with suppressed anger as she ignored both Shiv and Adam,

"Same goes for you, I suppose," Shiv said, directing a final taunt her way.

the Educator snapped. She was effectively done speaking to Shiv and now dispatched orders directly to Solzimort.

But Solzimort didn't move. Instead, he waited for Shiv or Adam to offer their own confirmation.

Adam asked Shiv as the Deathless formed a telepathic link between them

Once more, they were in motion. Solzimort jetted toward the horizon as if a bolt of lightning cast through the air. Yet, though he moved fast, he made no noise, for he was a thing of shadow, as were all beings melded into his scales. Gone's speed made them agile beyond measure, and in a moment they were in the city, slipping past another layer of wards, gliding by risen battlements and by dutiful watchers and Pathbearers alike.

They were in the thick of the city then, and the colors Shiv once beheld from a distance revealed themselves as Solzimort emerged along the thoroughfare. He crept close to the walls, using other shadows to hide himself, and between that and his speed, they went utterly unnoticed, even as the lockdown tightened around the city. As they drew close to the jump tower, he couldn't help but be enchanted by the surrounding sights.

Plants in bloom glistened as if they had a film of dew sculpted across every petal, along every branch. To call the view scenic was an injustice; things felt here. There was a dynamic artistry to everything in motion, and despite the horrors he'd experienced in the prison, the thoroughfares of the capital, at least on the surface, seemed like something found in the pages of an idyllic story.

Furthermore, Harlock’s darkness thinned in the city itself, and it left most of the streets unburdened by that crushing haze. It was left to the Watchers and guards to serve as observers here.

Once more the warning broadcast repeated itself, and this close, Shiv felt every Psychomantic message hammering against the outer walls of his soul. Some of the utopianism died within him. Though the streets looked pretty and the horticulture was well maintained, it was that pervasive sense of intrusion that reminded him where he was. The Ascendants were watching. The Republic was always on guard, but its blades were pointed within and without, its soldiers meant to face adversaries coming from the outside while also delivering another brand of justice to those who knew too much within.

"Okay, I'm here," Solzimort declared. A grand square was situated just before the front gates of the jump tower. The soft pitter-patter of spring water served as an uncannily comforting ambiance alongside the incessant messages being broadcast. Gorgeous fountains served as the centerpiece of this place.

They were comprised of three rings, and the jets of water sprayed into the air were timed perfectly and painted something of a strange, hydromantic spell. Everything around the fountain was glistening bright, and the moisture in the air seemed to undulate, cleansing everyone nearby. A few Prismatic Guards walked down the street, and as they did, Shiv pointed his Farsight upon them and saw bits of grime and dirt scrubbed free from their bodies.

Farsight 72 > 73

"It gets rather humid and hot here during the summers," Adam commented, "and so some of the fountains have cleansing enchantments worked into them."

“How much investiture does it take?” Shiv asked. “Because this looks expensive to keep up.”

"The Republic is quite wealthy." Adam sighed. "How wealthy? I am not sure. Too much has been hidden from me. But from what I have gleaned—the prison and how large the capital truly is when gazed from the side of the volcano—I dare say that the Ascendants can more than afford this, even if it is just a mechanism of vanity."

"Alright, so where do I go next?" Solzimort asked. They were nested right beside one of the jump tower's doors, using another shadow to mask their own presence.

the Educator whispered.

“You’re talking about the mechanical birds in the air?” Adam asked. “Gods… I had to assemble a few of those in the Academy. Part of my engineering course. Are you telling me that I was making surveillance agents for the Ascendants this entire time?”

The Educator laughed softly. The alloyed birds fluttered past them. But still they didn’t move.