(II) Capital
Chapter 439 of "Path of the Deathless" opens introducing the plot: 199 (II)CapitalThe Hydra's form was massive, but the gates to the Jump Tower were grand,... Continue exploring!
199 (II)Capital
The Hydra's form was massive, but the gates to the Jump Tower were grand, running thirty meters high into the air. Their exterior was layered in intricate decorations of silver, and it depicted a man in a triangular cap with a feather jutting out from the side, riding upon a mess of snakes. In his right arm was a grand lance, the kind a rider might use when jousting. A smirk adorned the man's face, and faint motes of incandescence leaked from the silver.
the Educator commented. A snarl of disgust followed thereafter. She hummed.
It took a while for Shiv to find what she was talking about. 200 meters away, he saw a row of three-story-tall buildings, each of them lined with brass on the outside, framed in silver, and ridden with mithril chains along their sides. They looked expensive, and from within came a heavy pressure, doubtless a Portomancy spell at work. Perhaps something to expand the space within.
But that wasn't what the Educator was talking about. Sticking just above those houses was the tip of a massive fist, shaped like a column of slats of metal put together. It was a fist that Shiv had seen before, had been struck with before. It was a statue made in the image of Cripple's fist, an imposing sight indeed.
Solzimort said,
They arrived in a blink. They slid around the corner of the Jump Tower and then dashed across the street just as an Observer passed by, finishing its Divination sweep, and Shiv found himself in a different section of the city. Where the bulk of the houses near the supervolcano were static estates that seemed quaint but well maintained, there were clusters of buildings here, packed tight together, with many small-celled rooms lining the walls and countless windows dotting their sides, making them seem as if brass-carved beehives. More mechanical birds lingered from mithril chains connecting each of these cluster residences, and the streets below were packed tight with people.
Most of them weren't of the Prismatic Guard, yet all of them bore various assortments of arms and armor. They stood there, at the ready, gazing upon the explosions blooming atop Yellowstone supervolcano and the castle hovering just over its peak. Nearby, a congregation of automata knelt before the massive fist occupying the intersection of two clashing thoroughfares.
Shiv guessed the automata were acolytes of Cripple, judging from their missing left arms and the way they casually flagellated themselves using whips that sprouted whiskers of razor wire. The backs of their chassis were marred with deep cuts, and a single priest stood above the others, holding its right fist high in prayer.
"O strongest martyr of the Ascendants, martyr of the Republic, heed us now, speak to us now. If there is a time of need, if you demand it, we will give our lives for home, for Earth, for the Grand Program!"
Shiv muttered.
Adam explained.
the Educator hummed.
That made Shiv frown internally.
A humorless scoff escaped her.
There was a note of genuine sorrow in the Educator's voice, because of course there would be. She was a sort of historian, judging by the way she spoke about things, by what she had recorded in her tome. Shiv realized.
Psycho-Cartography:
the Educator asked the Hydra, unaware of Shiv's musings.
Solzimort shifted subtly. The shadow constituting his scales returned beneath a cart. He was blended with the cart's shade, but a tip of his toe still stuck out, and that provoked one of the nearby Pathbearers to turn and narrow his eyes.
Adam hissed. The Hydra went still. The Pathbearer stared at Solzimort's shadow for a few moments longer and then looked up. A flag was flapping high above. It bore the Republic's emblem: thirteen mithril spires—one partially eroded—planted atop the apex of a fissuring volcano.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The Pathbearer let out a breath and ran a hand across his face. "Really need to stop knocking back those jugs of absinthe…"
As he turned away, Solzimort moved as Adam gave his confirmation of their safety. Solzimort cut between the two residential clusters that the Educator spoke of, and there, behind in the alley, they found a round staircase leading down. Sounds echoed up the stairs, and Shiv knew there were people far below. Yet, he couldn't quite see them and was beginning to get an apprehensive feeling about what he was looking at.
Adam said, his voice thin with exhaustion,
the Educator replied with a breath of haughtiness.
Psycho-Cartography:
Psycho-Cartography 90 > 91
Solzimort was large, but that mattered little when one could phase through matter. He glided through the stones and stairs, and upon reaching the bottom, Shiv saw the walls lined with barrels and taps. Glowing droplets of magically charged alcohol dripped from brass liquor dispensers, and Shiv saw groups of goblins filling large mugs before returning to a stretch of tables.
There, at the far end of the room, was a massive sign that read
Shiv said sardonically.
Adam said.
the Gate Lord struggled to find the words.
A moment passed. Solzimort did nothing.
Solzimort mumbled.
Shiv said.
The Educator huffed.
“Custiel!” A voice bellowed from up the stairs. Heavy footsteps came hammering down, and the Educator fell silent. “Custiel!” Came another ragged cry. The man’s words were slurred and furious, and when he came into view, Shiv felt his insides pinch as he saw a heavily-armored Pathbearer wearing the regalia of the Prismatic Guard.
“Custiel! You bastard! Come out! It didn’t work. The enchantment didn’t work!” The rainbow-plated Pathbearer stomped into the goblin speakeasy, and most of them groaned and spat at the ground as he approached.
“Hey, asshole,” a blue-eyed goblin sitting on a high chair by the entrance and holding a cigar between her pointed teeth said as she gestured at the sign. “You got a Legendary Illiteracy Skill or something?”
“No. I got a non-functional set of armor, and now the rest of the guard is looking for me. As fucking such, your boss owes me a stack of mithril.”
“Oh, now?” she sneered. “What're you gonna do? Report him to the guard?” The other goblins in the room roared with laughter. But it quickly died down as the armored Pathbearer reached up. Hands went to daggers and shaped quick spells.
But rather than clutching the halberd and shield hanging from his back, the armored Pathbearer removed his helmet and tossed it aside. Shiv saw a smear of blood on the back of the helmet—along with bits of skull tissue. It looked like the armored Pathbearer had used it to smash someone’s face in at some point. “Not the guard. But I can go to the Dragon Brokers. And I can see your protections revoked. So. You tell him to come out. You tell him to do the job right, or I need my mithril back.”
The Pathbearer’s eyes were wild and bloodshot hazel. He had a mess of stubble covering his face, and it looked like he had grains of sand dotting his head. His cheekbones were high, and his chin was practically a square wedge. If Shiv tried to imagine a generic Vanguard, this would be the face that appeared in the depths of his mind. But while the Deathless took in the man’s features without much reaction, Adam’s breath hitched.
he choked out, voice high with disbelief.
Shiv said.
Adam breathed.
the Educator said.
The twenty or so goblins scattered across the room shot each other looks. After all the bloodshed Shiv had gone through, he was battle-hardened enough to tell how dangerous someone was at a glance. These goblins weren’t. They lacked armor, their mana fields were those of Low Adepts at best, and their knives didn’t look like combat-dedicated designs. More than that, they were scared. Shiv could read the fear in their body language and in the twitching movements of their eyes.
Comparatively, Irons was angry, but he didn’t regard the goblins as threats at all. “Bring him out,” he repeated, voice hard. “Don’t keep me waiting. I don’t want to hurt any of you, but the same rules that apply to me apply to you. I won’t kill you. I will take your hands. I will ruin your establishment. And you will live to lose this little patch of sanctuary. Neither of us wants that. Just make this easy for all of us and bring him out. Please. The life of one of my students depends on it.”