Exploration- Chapter 40

This one grew so I split it. The next chapter is 3/4ths done, but I'm about to hop on a planning call with Aaron Renfroe about Apocalypse Breaker 4. Then I have to pick up my grandkids from school (since the wife is out of town), so I probably won't get Chapter 41 to you for another 3 hours.

Chapter 40- Learning More

Crynane stepped forward without hesitation. The dark elf didn’t glance at anyone else or seek reassurance, and she didn’t ask what the process would cost her. She simply knelt across from Tad and folded her hands, posture composed and deliberate, as if this were a duty long anticipated rather than a gamble with her soul. There was no fear in her, only resolve.

This matched the few observations I’d been able to make about her. She was different from the other elves. There was always a bit of tension between her and them despite the fact that they both followed Tad. The little bit about her past that I learned was that she had been the only one of the elves who was an adventurer before she met Tad. The others had been living in a small village and living mundane lives.

          The concept of hostility between different variants of elves was hardly outside of my expectations. Plenty of fiction had presented that concept and more often than not, I was finding that our fiction had apparently drawn upon multiversal norms. Thinking about it though brought the RA Corporation to mind and the blind favor that I owed it’s owner Salvor Tore. If I were to accept the herald offer, I had a feeling that debt would be called in sooner. That kind of power might let me accomplish whatever it was that he was angling for.

 Then, I realized I was letting my mind wander and focused in on what was happening before me. Crynane’s presence felt a bit different. All of the forest elves, even Dylus with his apparent grief had a sense of light and growth about them. It made it easy to understand the tension with Crynane. They were inherently different beings. She was all shadow and silence.

Tad paused longer than he had with the others. “I know you chose to follow me for your own reasons, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you a chance to leave without binding yourself this tightly to me. You know that with the fight we’re going to have, just here in Basetown that there are real risks.”

“You didn’t ask any of the surface elves this.”

Tad seemed flustered with that and after letting him hang there for a second she said, “If you can do this for me, then I promise that I can bring a few hundred more dark elves to your banner just for a chance to be awakened.”

“I just want to run a shop, not build an army.”

“Mmhmm, you are what you are my prince whether you want to be or not.”

For a moment there, I felt for Tad. Life had a way of growing out of control, but then I glanced over at Samvek. I thought about all the friends, and even a fiancé that I’d made because of the changes in my life. My lips settled into a smile. I wouldn’t give any of it back even if it saved me from all the pain and suffering.

Meanwhile Tad’s attention turned inward. His senses were clearly engaged in ways I still didn’t fully understand, and when he finally moved, his actions were careful to the point of reverence. He offered the vial, and Crynane drank it in one smooth motion, not a sip. The time for testing was gone and she was fully committed. The ascendant energy spread through her as with the others.

The warehouse seemed to dim, not in brightness but in activity, as though motion itself had slowed. I felt the power descend through Crynane’s channels like a cold current beneath ice, reinforcing instead of tearing, compressing instead of expanding. Tad leaned forward slightly, guiding only when necessary, his authority present but restrained. This wasn’t a flood to be shaped. It was a foundation being reinforced.

Sprites appeared, but only a few. They flickered at the edges of perception in muted tones, dark violet and pale silver, hovering without drawing close. Unlike before, they didn’t circle or cluster. They watched from a distance, as if recognizing that this soul was not something to meddle with lightly.

The oath took hold without spectacle. I felt it settle, heavy and final, like stone placed at the bottom of deep water. The bond between Tad and Crynane didn’t feel like allegiance in the way the Order imposed it. It felt like acknowledgment, a recognition of worth rather than a claim of ownership.

When the power finished settling, Crynane rose without wavering. Her aura didn’t grow larger, but it became denser, harder to shift, and I realized it had become difficult to read her without effort. Spirit Sight showed fewer bright flares than the others, but the channels that existed were deep and reinforced, built to endure strain that would have shattered lesser beings.

Her nature, everything about her was more muted than the other elves, but by examining her I could better understand the duality in Tad. He’d said he was from two different fey courts. I’d never been one for fey romance books, but I knew a little lore and at least some of it was accurate. That might be what made Tad so interesting. He was a man straddling two different worlds.

The notification arrived quietly, almost incidental compared to what I’d felt. Crynane had reached level 155, but the number barely mattered. What mattered was how real she felt now, how firmly she occupied the space around her. Just as with the others, this awakening was personal.

Then I noticed it. There was something different. There was an extra concentration around her soul. Before I knew what I was asking, I blurted out, “What’s that ring around her soul?”

Tad shook his head. “You saw that, huh?”

I nodded.

“It wasn’t intentional, but I’m getting the hang of this. I was able to refine her a bit more. The awakening connects us and opens up their potential, but I’m beginning to see how I can guide that potential. I was able to boost the power of her magic further enhancing both her curses and her healing.”

Then he glanced at the other elves. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can redo your awakenings, and I know she got an extra boost, but it wasn’t meant as a display of favoritism. I’m just learning as I go.”

They all gave him short bows and Mirren said, “We would never question you about that, my prince.”

 Oliver didn’t move right away. He’d been watching every awakening with the intensity of a scholar who knew he was witnessing something that would rewrite entire fields of study, and I could see the conflict playing out behind his eyes. This wasn’t just about power for him. I was paying attention and I got him to some extent. He was a man driven by duty to his kingdom and people. At some point, rather recently, he’d discovered that much of what he’d thought to be true was not.

It was fascinating for me to watch from the outside as Tad shook up these people’s lives without intending to. It was also a cautionary tale and reminder to me about the impact I had on those around me. In many ways, these insights alone would have made this trip worth it. The fact I was having a ton of fun only made it all that much better.

In Oliver as well as Clay’s case, their understanding of the universe they lived in had changed. The limits they thought were real turned out to be barriers placed by a being from beyond this world. The Lawgiver had proven himself to be no friend of Aerth.  When he finally stepped forward, his shoulders were squared, but there was a gravity to his movements that hadn’t been there before. His decision had been made.

He didn’t kneel at first. Instead, he looked at Tad directly, meeting his gaze without arrogance or defiance. “If I do this,” he said quietly, “then I’m done pretending that reform is possible from the inside. I won’t hedge. I won’t keep one foot in the empire and one foot out. I’m committing because it’s the only way to save my people from being bled dry by the Order.” His voice didn’t waver, but the cost of those words was written all over him.

Tad studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “I won’t lie. I hate the Order with a passion that is in my blood. I mean that literally. It’s just a part of me and I can’t change that. It may color how I see thing but you have my promise that I want to improve life for regular people. Once I learned I could create magical items, all I could think about was running a shop that would not only sell sharp magical sticks to adventurers but also things like the ice boxes, endless water supplies, and magical lighting to improve daily life. I am and always will be that orphan. I’m connected to the people here despite what’s in my blood not because of it.”

In response to the sincerity in Tad’s voice, Oliver knelt, far less gracefully than the elves had, and accepted the vial with both hands. When he drank, the reaction was immediate and violent compared to the others, the ascendant energy slamming into him like a storm front instead of settling gently. Oliver gasped, fingers digging into the floor as raw power tore through channels that had been shaped by study and discipline rather than instinct.

This awakening was messy. Mana flared and snapped around him in unstable arcs, and I felt Tad lean harder into the process, authority firming as he guided the surge away from catastrophic overload. Sprites appeared in a sudden burst, far more numerous than before, their colors erratic and bright, clustering and scattering as if arguing with one another. I realized then that Oliver’s magic wasn’t just personal. It was academic, layered with borrowed frameworks and half-understood theories that now had to be reconciled with something real. He had been at a higher level of power than any of the others for a longer time.

The oath took longer to settle. I felt it form in stages, each one locking into place as Oliver consciously accepted what he was becoming bound to. When it finally held, his aura snapped into focus, less elegant than Mirren’s, less predatory than Lia’s, but expansive in a way that made my scalp prickle. Knowledge had always been his strength, and now that knowledge had weight.

When Oliver stood, it was with visible effort, but his eyes were bright in a way I hadn’t seen before. His level had shot up to 201 with the extra XP that he’d collected on our most recent dungeon run. More than that, I saw how he was refined inside. Tad really was getting better at this and I was taking notes.

He mumbled, “I can feel all the magic around me. I don’t know what you’ve done, but my class changed.”

          I hadn’t paid attention because I’d only been curious about his level but when I looked at the identification, I saw the difference. His class was now listed as Meta-Mage rather than Grand Mage and the description was interesting.

Meta-Mage: One of the blessed few mortals who can both see and feeel the very flows of magic. Your soul has been deeply connected to the magic of the Fey which powers this realm. You can now work with any spell and shape them as you see fit or even use no spell at all and craft your own.

For achieving this class you gain +300 to your Magic stat. Further as a meta mage, whenever you are in the presence of a fey, your magic stat and potency are increased by 10% for each fey. In the presence of the one who awakened you that is increased to 30%. As your oath of loyalty has been accepted you gain the 25% boost to all stats, spells, level efficiency, and traits based upon the power of the Twin Prince.

There was so much to unpack but before anyone could speak further. The dungeon opened up in the floor and practically spat out Selena and Fara. They looked a bit scuffed and Selena was breathing harder than she would have admitted to. There were scorch marks on Fara’s armor and a thin line of blood along one scaled forearm, already drying. Neither of them offered an explanation, and no one asked.

Fara’s gaze went straight to Tad, then to the empty space beside him. The impatience that had been simmering in her earlier had hardened into resolve. Whatever had happened in the dungeon, it hadn’t slowed her down. If anything, it had sharpened her focus.

Tad exhaled slowly and looked around at the group, now larger, stronger, and irrevocably changed. “All right,” he said, fatigue creeping into his voice at last. “One more.”