Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 401

"So," Tholm murmured, tapping the ash from his pipe into a floating crystal tray. "Count Boer wants the Tower to flex its muscles and remind the city that, although the Gods promise the afterlife, it is the Mages who uphold the walls in this life.

"He framed it as a mutual defense," Nick said, sitting opposite his mentor. "The Priests are encroaching on their judicial rights at the docks. According to him, the merchants are just the beginning. If we let them, tomorrow it’s going to be the enchanting supply lines that suffer.”

If it had only been a matter of internal politics, Nick wouldn’t have cared too much, trusting the Duke to handle it. However, his family’s situation, both with his father in the north and his brother’s girlfriend, needed his direct involvement.

“He is offering to funnel resources to the Northern Front in exchange for our support.” He had thought about dressing up the offer to make it seem more neutral and less like he was trying to curry favor with him personally, but it was unlikely he could fool the Archmage, and this wasn’t the kind of matter he could fix on his own.

Tholm leaned back, watching a smoke ring drift toward the ceiling. His eyes were half-closed, and Nick knew he was calculating variables stretched across decades.

"Boer is an old hand at these games," Tholm said softly. "But his goals, for once, are quite clear. He seeks my influence in exchange for direct favors and is using the current northern situation to establish a contact I've avoided for a long time.”

Put it that way, it was a big ask. Tholm was the premier artificer in the West, and his support would bring enormous wealth to any noble house.

Still, Nick stayed silent, giving him the time he needed to think over the matter.

“On the other hand, it is true that the Temples have become too aggressive, and something needs to be done about the stasis on the northern front…”

So many threads are getting tangled into the same mass. If I weren’t directly involved, I would do my best to stay out of it, but I really can’t.

Luckily for him, Tholm was in a similar situation. His descent into the field after abandoning his neutral stance forced him to strengthen his position.

"We will accept the alliance. I need to discuss the matter with Politod and draft a statement about the Tower’s jurisdiction over magical anomalies within the city limits. That should give the Nobles the legal cover they need to push back against the temples’ overreach, but only through us.”

That seemed like it would solve several problems at once, if at a slower pace than he’d have liked, but Nick couldn’t forget about the one person who could throw a wrench into everything. “And Archmage Hone? He’s the reason we’re in this mess, but I don’t expect him to just lie down.”

Tholm’s expression hardened, and he put the pipe down. “No, Hone doesn’t have the humility needed for that. He is the rot at the foundation, and despite being the source of the current chaos, I expect him to use it to his advantage.”

“We could still turn the priests on him,” Nick suggested, but he was cut off by a raised hand.

“That’s not possible. The independence and stability of the Tower are and always will be our guiding principles. Giving up an Archmage is not just unfeasible, but also the last thing we would do.”

Nick pursed his lips, trying and failing to find a solution. “So we’re stuck threading the needle.”

"Indeed," Tholm sighed. "It is a silent war, Nicholas. Hone knows we know. He is waiting for us to make a mistake, to overplay our hand so he can frame us as the threat to the Tower’s stability. We must be patient.”

Nick nodded slowly, even as his thoughts drifted to what he could do in the meantime. Hopefully, the Tower stirring would be enough on its own, but he doubted it.

"I'll keep my eyes open," Nick said, standing up.

"Do that," Tholm said, picking his pipe back up. "And Nicholas? Try to enjoy being a student for a few hours. Trouble might have a tendency to find you, but don’t make it easier than it has to be.”

“Ready?" Nick called out, rolling his shoulders and filtering out the hum of the suppression wards on the chamber’s walls.

Since developing the Tree of Life, such magics had been all too clear to his third eye, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted by them. Losing was not an option, and even just struggling would be embarrassing.

He stood in the center of the arena, gripping a dull training staff. Facing him were three of his oldest friends in the Tower, looking determined and unexpectedly dangerous.

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"On my mark!" Eona shouted. She wore a set of enchanted armor that made it harder to decipher what her mana was doing, a clear sign she’d learned from their past spar, and he was eager to see how much she’d grown.

“Go!”

“[Weight of Ages!]” Tim shouted, and the world slowed around Nick. It wasn't enough to freeze him, but it felt like he was moving through waist-deep water.

He’s gotten faster. Still lacking the power he needs to punch above his weight class, but a while ago, he wouldn’t have been able to hit me if I didn’t let him.

Before Nick could break the hex, the ground beneath him erupted.

"[Stone Jaws]!" Bellamy roared, slamming his hands onto the floor. Two massive slabs of rock snapped shut like a bear trap, aiming to crush Nick between them.

The combination of the two magics was clearly practiced and would have been enough to stump any first-year apprentice. Yet Nick was not like the others, and simply slammed his practice staff on the ground, unleashing a weak version of [Quake Push].

The shockwave shattered the stone slabs before they could close, sending dust billowing into the air.

Through the haze, a flash of silver appeared, and moments later, Eona was upon him, swinging with all her strength as her sword became engulfed in light.

She’d activated the spell at the very last second, leaving him little time to prepare, and he wondered if she had trained specifically with him in mind.

Still, he raised his staff, coating it with kinetic mana. The impact vibrated through his arms, and he slid back a foot, his eyebrows raising.

She’s grown a lot stronger—at least five levels, if she hasn’t killed herself during physical training.

"Don't let him breathe!" Eona commanded, spinning into a backhand strike.

"[Quicksand]!" Bellamy shouted. The floor turned into liquid mud, and Nick’s footing disappeared.

"[Lethargy]!" Tim said, applying another speed debuff.

Nick grinned, delighted. They coordinated and used their environment to their advantage, playing off each other’s strengths. It was as if he were a dungeon Guardian being besieged by an entire adventuring team.

It made him strangely proud to be seen as such a monster by those who ostensibly should have been his peers, just to justify using such tactics. I guess I can play the part too. Guardians certainly don’t stay still and simply endure the blows.

For a moment, he wondered if he should overwhelm their magic with [Territory], but he quickly dismissed the idea. He wanted to show off a bit, yes, but not end it so fast.

Instead, he returned to his kinetic magic. He had been neglecting it somewhat lately, but it was easy enough to improve the spellforms with his new understanding of esoteric energies.

“[Push!]” he growled, releasing a burst in all directions.

The shockwave blew away the dust, knocked Eona back a few steps, and hardened the mud beneath his feet by saturating it with energy.

Finally allowing [Blasphemy] to do its job, he shrugged off the debuffs, spun his staff, and blurred into motion. He deflected Eona’s blade, stepped inside her guard, and tapped her neck.

"Dead," he grinned.

He pivoted, launching a [Wind Blast] that tagged Tim in the shoulder before he could recast.

“Dead."

Bellamy summoned a stone wall, but Nick was already soaring overhead, vaulting over the obstacle and stopping with the tip of his staff inches from his nose. "And dead.”

Breathing out of his nose, he lowered his staff. "Not bad," he said, looking around at his panting friends. "Eona, your speed has improved. You almost caught me in the transition.”

"Almost isn't good enough," Eona huffed as she sheathed her sword. She wiped sweat from her forehead, grinning. “I suppose that just means I need to work harder. Have you hit the high seventies? I can’t imagine you are any lower, with those reaction times as a mage class.”

“Somewhere around there, yes,” Nick deflected with a smile. "But you guys have been busy. You’ve all gotten stronger, I can tell.”

Tim, on his part, didn’t seem to have thought victory was even a real option and simply shrugged with a slight smile. “Classes have been pretty slow recently, so we had some free time. The teachers have been occupied with other things.”

They grabbed towels and waterskins and moved to the benches by the arena.

"It’s not just the teachers," Bellamy said, taking a long drink. He looked troubled. "My family... The atmosphere at the ducal palace is suffocating, and everyone seems to be waiting for the match to be lit.”

"How so?" Nick asked, draping a towel over his neck. He hadn’t really worked up a sweat, but the cool sensation was nice.

"The Duke issued a Gag Order," Bellamy revealed, keeping his voice low despite the numerous privacy wards around them. “He wants us to stay strictly neutral. No member of House Alluria is allowed to intervene in conflicts between the nobles and the priests. Not legally, not financially, and definitely not magically.”

Eona frowned at that. “Why the change? He was extremely proactive before, and now he’s letting the city devolve into chaos?”

"No," Nick said, realizing the game. “He wants them to bleed each other.”

Bellamy nodded with a mildly disgusted look. "Exactly. If the nobles fight the temples, they will both weaken each other. They will have to spend gold, favors, and reputation, and when the dust settles, whoever wins will be exhausted. Which is when the Duke will strike, being fresh. He can swoop in, restore order, and consolidate everything.”

“That’s cold," Tim murmured. He didn’t seem surprised, reminding Nick that a similar, though lesser, conflict had happened in his own hometown when Lady Chandra had solidified her power. "People are going to get hurt.”

"People were always going to get hurt," Nick replied. "But it clarifies why the Duke hasn't stopped the priests. He views them as a valuable tool to weaken the nobles' independence. There was a lot of reticence on their part in helping with the operations before the Circle's attack, so this could also be regarded as a form of punishment.”

And in the middle of it all stood the Tower, both held back by its usual neutrality and pushed into the scene by the actions of its players, Nick included.

“Well,” Eona grunted. “That just means we have to keep pushing ourselves.”

They shared a chuckle and gathered their gear, heading for the exit.

As they entered the main corridor, they found a group of students gathered around a large, shimmering illusion projected onto the wall near the notice board.

"What's that?" Tim asked, craning his neck.

Nick moved closer, peering between the other students' heads.

It was a poster, but not just a static image. It depicted a moving scene of the sun rising over the harbor, with the light shimmering on the water in an almost sacred way.

“THE FESTIVAL OF RENEWAL” was written in golden letters.

To celebrate the healing of Alluria and honor the peace, jointly hosted by the Temple of Ulter, the Temple of Sashara, and the Faith of Eztie.

Three Days of Feasting. Free Healing for Everyone. The Great Blessing of the Tides.

"A festival?" Eona read aloud, skepticism dripping from her voice. “Now?"

“They are taking a victory lap,” Nick muttered. He should have felt surprised, but this was in line with the overwhelming arrogance the Temples had shown so far. It would let them control the narrative, and even if they technically hadn’t won yet, it would seem so to the populace.