Zenith of Sorcery

Chapter 33. Oddities

Chapter 033

Oddities

Marcus sat in his office at the top of the tower and stared at his table, lost in thought. There were two objects placed on it: the soul amethyst, and the fruit he’d gotten from the tree in the frozen vault.

The two items were key to accelerating his advancement to next rank. While most people marveled at Marcus’s fast growth in power, the truth was that he actually possessed certain deficiencies which were holding him back. The first was that he lacked sufficient soul power for the next step, and this was a hard thing to rectify. The soul grew slowly in power. Simply using magic regularly strengthened it, so souls of adepts naturally grew more powerful as they rose in ranks and kept practicing their skills over the years. However, this growth was almost an unintended byproduct of magic use, and one couldn’t focus on it to speed things up. Methods to strengthen the soul directly were rare even in the Outer Planes, and typically the domain of necromancers and other death-aligned mages. They tended to be parasitic in nature.

The flow of soul seeds from animals would speed up Marcus’s soul growth, but the effect was by no means enormous. At this rate, it would still take a few years for him to reach the next rank. However, his intuition was telling him that the soul amethyst in front of him could be used to accelerate his soul growth to a far greater degree… if only he knew the right method to do so. In fact, after examining it for so long, Marcus was certain that he could use a certain ritual to shatter the gem and absorb the energies trapped within to receive a small but instant growth in soul power. However, he didn’t want to do that because the process would be very inefficient and most of the power would be wasted. There had to be a better way to do this…

Alternatively, it just occurred to him that he could involve his students into the ritual and let them absorb some of the energies too. Most of the energies would still be wasted, but at least they would get some benefit out of it too. He would have to think on this more.

As for the fruit, it seemed to be a mixture of memories, magical instructions, and potent wood logos. It could be absorbed easily, with no ritual or special preparations needed. It was designed to be consumed and absorbed, Marcus was pretty sure. But would that be a good idea? The fruit was really powerful, and Marcus was not sure if he could emerge unaffected by whatever memories and magic the tree put into the fruit in its last moments. Since the fruit did not appear to be in any danger of rotting, Marcus was not inclined to risk it at this moment. In his younger days, when he had been impatient to grow quickly and had not had a bunch of students relying on him, he would have swallowed the fruit the moment after returning to the tower, for sure. Now, he had to be at least a little bit cautious.

He would need to talk to the Sacred Oak about it. Marcus knew this was a dangerous subject to bring up: if there was anything that could inspire greed and ambition in the ancient oak, it was this: but he feared what might happen to him should he consume the fruit more than he feared Sacred Oak’s betrayal.

In any case, while he didn’t consume the fruit, he did study the wood logos emanating from it, copying whole sections of it to integrate into his microcosm. This was the second of his deficiencies: the lack of sufficient wood logos. From what Celer told him, most wood mages acquired that from wood-aligned spells they learned, but Marcus obviously could not do the same. The wood logos he currently had, he acquired from powerful magical plants encountered in his wanderings. This kind of logos received from observing nature was often romanticized in texts, and was known to birth novel, and sometimes potent traditions, but it was not a fast route to advancement by any means. If Marcus had access to a more traditional source of wood logos like existing wood spells, he would have absolutely used that as his source instead.

It wasn’t just a matter of wood spells being purged from Tasloa, either. Even if the wood spells existed, high-ranking spells were hard to find on the material plane. The higher rank a mage achieved, the harder it became to get access to spells of appropriate level of power. There just weren’t that many high ranking adepts on your average planet. When one was on Marcus’s level, there were very few people that he could truly learn from, assuming they even wanted to help. For instance, it wasn’t like Marcus could go to Heartfire Academy and ask their leader to exchange insights. It would be a political scandal, and doubly so if said leader agreed to the request.

Therefore, most adepts that reached sixth or seventh rank of power, and did not have any regrets or duties tying them down, would inevitably decide to ascend to the Outer Planes to continue their pursuit of magical power and excellence there. The Outer Planes were a much bigger place than any individual planet… and more importantly, they were where most powerful adepts from the material plane had converged for countless millennia. Because of this, the level of power and sophistication of the Outer Planes was much higher. In general, Marcus had been informed that it was a good rule of thumb to take your rank and then halve it to get an idea of what kind of reception you would get on the Outer Planes. At rank four, an adept would be seen the same way the academies saw your typical rank two mage: a competent professional, but people like this were everywhere. A rank eight powerhouse would have the same status as a rank four adept here on Tasloa: an impressive individual, someone who could easily establish their own minor faction, but definitely not one of the movers and shakers of the plane. Powerful organizations of the Outer Planes had no shortage of rank eight, or even rank nine adepts, and were led by literal gods.

This was obviously a problem for prideful people, and for this reason some adepts never ascended. They preferred to be a big fish in a small pond. But having so many people on your own level or higher meant that it was much easier to find teachers and partners, suitable spells and abilities were much easier to acquire, and there were marketplaces and auction houses that sold incredibly rare items and materials. If one was truly dedicated to reaching the pinnacle of magic, going to the Outer Planes seemed like the obvious choice.

Marcus didn’t want to go there, however, despite the advantages. Ascending to the Outer Planes was not a casual matter. Once a person reached rank five, ascending there was relatively easy: the structure of reality almost encouraged it for spirit-rank adepts: but coming back down was very hard. Ascending in the traditional way involved converting one’s body completely into a spirit, re-anchoring one’s existence to one of the Outer Planes. It was a permanent thing that couldn’t be easily undone. When an adept became fully a spirit of the Outer Planes, they could only descend to their old home by sending temporary avatars, and even that typically only worked if one was being summoned by someone already down there.

He couldn’t fully understand it, but he still felt lingering desires binding him to his home here. He felt as if he hadn’t accomplished everything he wanted here on Tasloa yet, and so did not want to move on from it.

Which was fine. Advancing through the ranks on his own here on Tasloa was hard, but he was managing somehow, even before he had acquired the two items in front of him. Now that he had a source of powerful wood logos and two different ways to strengthen his soul, things should only get easier.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Marcus said, his eyes still fixated on the large gem and fruit in front of him. He did not attempt to hide them in front of the newcomer. He recognized Helvran by the way he knocked on the door.

Sure enough, his death priest friend walked into the office. Marcus glanced at him for a moment to confirm his identity before his gaze drifted once again to the two objects on his desk. He motioned with his hand towards the chair in front of him, which Helvran took as his cue to sit down.

“You’re still thinking about the soul gem,” Helvran noted.

Marcus had asked the man about the soul amethyst before, asking the priest to analyze the object and tell him his opinion. His logic was that Helvran already knew about the source of the gem, and Renatus had already blabbed about it to his fellow students when he was retelling what happened to them in their little expedition to another world. Therefore, showing the soul amethyst to Helvran wasn’t any additional danger, and there was a chance that an adept of the Raven Temple, who specialized in this kind of magic, could tell him how to use this right.

Alas…

“I still haven’t found anything useful I could tell you,” Helvran told him. “I may be a death priest, but this is something far beyond my level of understanding. I am not even a spirit-rank priest.”

“And once you are one, you’ll have to leave Tasloa for the Outer Planes,” Marcus noted.

“Yes,” Helvran confirmed.

Marcus shook his head, finally putting the two objects away into his storage bracelet. He focused on Helvran in front of him.

“What did you need me for?” he asked curiously.

“I’ve come to ask for a favor,” Helvran said.

“Oh?” Marcus said, raising his eyebrow at him.

He wasn’t really surprised at the frank, direct approach: that was just how Helvran was in general: but the priest lived a pretty ascetic life and wanted little. It was curious to see him approach him with a request like this.

“It can wait,” Helvran said. “I know you’re planning a visit to Adria with your students soon. I’d like you to set aside some time after you get back and go on a journey with me. I have a… personal quest I need your help with. Forgive me for being somewhat mysterious, but I’d like to keep things close to my chest until you’re ready to set off. That is, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll make time for you,” Marcus said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’d like to believe we’ve become friends by now, and I’m not just taking advantage of you to teach my students. As for being so mysterious… well, I’m used to it. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” Helvran said. It was subtle, but his body relaxed slightly. It seemed that despite his stoic demeanor, Helvran had some doubts about whether or not Marcus would humor his request.

It was slightly insulting. When did Marcus ever not help his friends?

But he said nothing.

Both men were silent for a few moments.

“I have another parable for you,” Helvran suddenly said. “The parable of the tyrant.”

“Let’s hear it,” Marcus said, resting his chin on his hands.

Helvran had told him a number of these during their time here, and they were always amusing if nothing else. He wasn’t sure if the entire Raven Temple was fond of these weird tales, or if that was something specific to Helvran, but his priestly friend liked to use them whenever he spotted an opportunity.

“In a bygone age, there had been seven glorious cities,” Helvran told him. “Six had been ruled by righteous and upstanding kings, but one was ruled by a stubborn and paranoid tyrant. The six righteous kings were friends and allies, and had given each other keys to their respective cities, so they could come and go between each other as they pleased, but the tyrant was snubbed by the other six because he refused to hand anyone the key to his city. One day, a foreign army invaded the land, seeking to conquer the seven. However, the cities were protected, one and all, by high walls, and so the foreign army could not overpower even a single one. Instead, they tricked one of the six righteous kings to hand over the key to his city, and another foolishly gave his key to a passing merchant, who sold it to the invaders. Thus, two of the cities fell by subterfuge. The other four, sensing danger, came together to forge an alliance against the invaders, swearing they would not hand over their keys to anyone except each other. They invited the tyrant to join the alliance, but couldn’t come to an agreement, for he adamantly refused to hand anyone the key to his city. The four turned to face the invading army together, but alas, it turned out that one of them was not so righteous after all. He betrayed the alliance, handing over all four keys to the invaders in exchange for favorable treatment. Thus, all six of the righteous kings fell, but no matter how hard they tried, the invading army could never take the tyrant’s kingdom… because he refused to hand anyone the key to his city.”

Marcus mulled the tale in his head. Much like the other parables Helvran had told him, it was strange. It wasn’t that these parables were hard to understand, exactly: it was more that the lessons they were meant to impart sounded a bit cynical and complex. The parable of the stormbearing tree, for instance, taught that you couldn’t expect mercy from someone you had repeatedly wronged. The parable of the peaceful man suggested that being too peaceable would result in you having everything of worth taken from you. And the parable of the fallen implied that righteous behavior was worth nothing if it caused you to lose to your enemies. These lessons weren’t exactly wrong, but it wasn’t the sort of morality that Marcus had been taught by Old Pliny and his elders.

“So the lesson of the parable is…?” Marcus asked.

“As usual, it is up to you to interpret these,” Helvran told him.

Marcus could see two interpretations. One was that it was actually a good thing to have a line you wouldn’t cross; something you refused to give up no matter what because it was so precious to you. Another was that being paranoid came useful sometimes. It wasn’t paranoia if they were really out to get you.

Honestly, he could see the value in both lessons.

“Do you have these written down somewhere?” Marcus asked curiously. “I’d love to sit down and read a bunch of these one day.”

“If I just gave you the book, how would I entertain you with new stories like this?” Helvran countered.

“True, I suppose,” Marcus conceded. “I’m bound to hear them all from you, sooner or later.”

“The Book of Heresy has more than two hundred of these parables, so that might take a while,” Helvran said.

“Book of… Heresy?” Marcus repeated slowly.

“The Raven God has an odd sense of humor,” Helvran explained. “I think it is named that way because the lessons are a bit unconventional. The book is not actually heretical to the Raven Temple.”

“Ah, so it’s heresy to other people, not you,” Marcus nodded. “Still, having one of your holy texts named ‘Book of Heresy’ has got to be confusing. What do you do when discussing actual Raven Temple heretics?”

“We just call them deviants or traitors instead, depending on how severely they’ve strayed from the Raven God’s teachings,” Helvran said. “And the Book of Heresy is not a holy text as such. It is a… supplementary material.”

“So not every Raven Temple priest studies and quotes these?”

“No,” Helvran admitted. “But it is a reasonably popular book. I think everyone has heard of at least a handful of parables from it.”

Marcus made a mental note to look for some collections of fables and short stories while he was in Adria, and present them as a gift for Helvran when he got back. They might not appeal to the priest, but it was worth a try and wouldn’t cost anything except time and effort. Worst case, he would just add the books to the tower’s collection for his students to amuse themselves with them.

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The two of them ended the meeting, agreeing to talk more after Marcus came back from Adria.

* * * *

Marcus had contemplated travelling to Adria with his students by ship, just to show them how it was normally done. After all, while powerful adepts typically reached Adria by flying on griffins and giant swans, most of them boarded a boat. Great Sea had an extensive fleet of ships, some of them essentially powerful magic items with how heavily they were enchanted, and so it usually wasn’t difficult to find a vessel to take you there.

However, he eventually decided that would take too long. This visit would already disrupt his students' routine, and it was hard to study while travelling. There was a reason why most mages did not set out to travel until they were rank two or three, even if they followed traditions that encouraged travel.

In the end, he decided to simply take them there by air, just like he had the last time. Before they left, however, he gathered them in the lecture hall to discuss a few things.

“Before we set off, I want to warn you about some things while we are here, far from prying eyes and ears,” Marcus began. “As you may have noticed, I am not exactly on best terms with the leadership of our Academy. I did not want to burden you with such things the last time we were there, but I was one of the candidates for leadership of the Great Sea Academy after the last consul died. I lost to Gaius, and so we don’t get along. You being my students, he and his faction are not very keen on you either. Most of you aren’t even from Adria, so that’s another strike against you. We will remain in Adria for a while this time, so I need you to keep that in mind and not cause trouble or get baited into pointless conflicts.”

He gave Renatus and Volesus especially pointed looks after that.

“Especially you two,” he told them. “Think twice before you act and speak.”

“We’ll be careful,” Volesus said, sounding unusually respectful for a change. “What about the siege and the whole thing with that? What if people ask about it?”

“I don’t care if you discuss this,” Marcus told him, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be any kind of secret, and most people will understand that you might not be impressed by the academy’s response. However, you might anger some people if you’re too critical of the Academy’s leadership, so exercise some common sense. Oh right, this is something all of you should take heed of - do not mention anything about the dead giant’s cave underneath the tower or the trip to another world! Do not discuss the topic at all while we are staying in Adria, not even obliquely. Not even if you’re alone and discussing things among yourselves. Assume there are always spies eavesdropping on you.”

There were so many different magical methods of spying on people that it was really difficult to defend against them all. Especially when your enemy was the leader of a powerful organization, and you spent your time in a big city that served as the seat of his power. Marcus had no idea whether they would really be spied upon in Adria, but it was safe to assume they would be.

“Aren’t we going there to recruit new teachers? Surely it’s inevitable that they’ll find out about that stuff eventually,” Claudia reasoned.

“Yeah, someone is going to slip up if they’re around us constantly,” Cassia said. “There never was a secret that lasted long in the orphanage.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Marcus told them. “Presumably my own employees won’t immediately rush to betray me the moment they figure out a secret.”

Plus, even if they caught wind of something suspicious, it would take months to confirm such a thing, assuming they even wanted to dig deeply enough and risk his wrath. Unless his students did something really stupid, Marcus felt he could keep this secret for years if he had to. Maybe even permanently, if his academy stayed small.

After some more irrelevant back-and-forth, he confirmed they had all done their preparations, led them outside, activated his Orb of Flight, and set off in the direction of Adria.

* * * *

Even with flight, such a long journey could be arduous. Marcus stopped frequently in various places along the way, much more frequently than he would have if he had been on his own or with Beortan, and he avoided venturing in the mountains. He was pretty sure he could protect his students, but why risk it? There were some things living in the wilder parts of the Silver League that could tear apart an apprentice mage in an instant. A single moment of inattention was all that was needed to lose one of them.

Since he was already taking the slow route, he would talk about the various cities and places they passed. He doubted most of them would remember much out of what he was saying, except maybe Julia and Diocles, who seemed to be listening attentively, but it helped pass the time.

“Teacher, I heard from your friend that you got your Orb of Flight from Giant Thunder Hall, and that it’s their priceless ancestral artifact,” Cricket told him. She was always the most enthusiastic one about these kinds of flying trips, and tended to be the most talkative.

“Yes, I won it when I killed their previous leader during the Academy War. First Academy War,” Marcus said, correcting himself.

“But it’s so useful and you use it so openly,” Cricket protested. “How come they haven’t tried to get it back more often?”

Truthfully, that surprised Marcus a bit, too. The new leader of Giant Thunder Hall was a lot calmer and more patient individual than his predecessor.

“They were devastated in the recent past, almost as much as Crystal Mountain was,” Marcus told her. “They’re probably just biding their time until the right moment, but for what it's worth, Giant Thunder Hall have historically been the biggest proponents of the right of conquest.”

“That’s when you get to claim all the possessions of those you kill, right?” Cricket asked.

“Defeat, not necessarily kill. But yes,” Marcus confirmed. “Their territory is cold and mountainous, and lacks many things that southern powers take for granted. As such, they have been notorious raiders for a long time now. Most powers have a tendency to take magic items and other treasures from defeated enemies, but Giant Thunder Hall is especially notorious for this. Their adepts regularly assault people outside of their official territory and claim spoils from such fights. Therefore, there is no need to feel sorry for them for losing Orb of Flight. They probably took it from someone to begin with.”

Marcus did not actually know the origin of the orb, which was not that unusual for something this rare and potent. It was a very powerful item, and the only reason it did not attract more attention was that it wasn’t a weapon or defensive artifact. Most adepts were very combat oriented, and had a tendency to look down upon and underestimate the usefulness of magic items that were not designed for combat. Possibly current Giant Thunder Hall felt the same, and so was less desperate to get the Orb back from him than they would be if he had claimed a powerful weapon or suit of armor.

“Perhaps, then, they consider Teacher’s claim on the orb to be at least somewhat legitimate,” Agron said. “I also come from mountain people living in harsh lands, and while the strong often take from the weak, they also show understanding when someone even stronger comes along and takes from them. It is the way of the world.”

Marcus was not particularly convinced this was true for Giant Thunder Hall. The Orb of Flight was still their ancestral artifact, traditionally wielded by their leaders as a sort of badge of office, so it was a huge embarrassment for their academy that it had been taken by an outsider. Marcus would not expect them to take its loss with good grace.

“So Teacher believes in right of conquest, then?” Claudia asked.

“Most adepts do, even if they don’t make it explicit,” Marcus told her. “Most enemies will rob you if they beat you. You’ll be lucky if that’s all they do. The real question is what happens when you are beaten by a fellow adept from the same organization. Great Sea Academy strongly forbids their adepts from assaulting and robbing one another, as do most other adept organizations, but there are a lot of edge cases. What happens when two adepts make a bet, or fight over a natural treasure that technically belongs to neither of them?”

Some organizations also actively encouraged a certain level of in-fighting, considering it useful to build fighting spirit.

“The world is such a cruel place,” Claudia sighed. “After my family was driven from our home, I thought I could live peacefully if I became a powerful mage. Teacher, is there no place free of war?”

“Only the dead are truly at peace,” Marcus told her. “But you can catch a break every now and then. If you travel the world and avoid most attachments, perhaps you can have many peaceful years. Even then, I imagine trouble would find you eventually.”

“I do like the idea of travelling the world,” Claudia conceded.

The journey lasted for two days. For the most part, the journey was uneventful, but while they were traveling above the sea, Marcus spotted a large ship and decided to take a brief break by landing on its deck. This caused a brief commotion on the ship, but a mage flying over open sea with his own power and carrying ten students with him was obviously very powerful, and so the mage escorting the ship did not attack him. Once he introduced himself and paid a small fee for the inconvenience, the captain allowed them to stay on the deck for as long as they wished, and even invited them into his cabin for a talk. Apparently they were an official Great Sea exploration ship bound for northern water, meant to bypass the lands ruled by the Lament Spire and explore the lands beyond it to see what was there. If possible, they were to also make contact with dwarven powers that were known to be operating in the area.

How interesting. It had been a long time since Great Sea actually showed interest in such long-distance exploration. Demonic forces didn’t have a particularly numerous or potent navy, but it was enough to ward off casual explorers. Perhaps when Marcus’s students grew up a bit and no longer needed him so much, he would also go north and check up on the dwarves, and maybe the elves too. He had seen pretty much everything else this world had to offer, after all.

After some time, Marcus took his students into the air again, and they continued their journey.

* * * *

After arriving in Adria, Marcus reunited with Fabius, the one-armed soldier he had met when he last visited the city. He had already arranged the meeting with the man here, since he would be attending to many tasks here on his own, and he couldn’t leave his students to deal with the challenges of the city on their own. It was one thing to leave them for days at a time when they were in the middle of wilderness, and another to do so in a place like Adria. Fabius, as his former subordinate and one of his last remaining friends in the city, agreed to find a place for them to stay and some guides to make sure no one takes advantage of them.

“Actually, you could say the situation has improved for you since the last time we spoke,” Fabius told him. “It seems you left a good impression on a lot of people. I’ve had quite a few people come and ask me about introducing them to you, and most of the people annoying Publius have backed off since then too.”

“That’s good to hear,” Marcus said. “I might agree to meet some of these people you’re talking about. I need to attend to some urgent matters for now, but I’ll see how much time I have left afterwards.”

“You’re leaving us again,” Volesus said accusingly.

“Only for a short while. Don’t be so clingy,” Marcus told him. He really needed to get those additional teachers. He turned towards Regulus. “I wanted to visit your uncle today. Do you think he’ll receive us, even though I didn’t announce my visit in advance?”

Marcus really should have sent a letter to Cato before coming over, asking him for permission to visit, but eh. He forgot.

“If he’s inside the estate, I don’t think he’ll refuse,” Regulus said. “Uncle Cato is basically unemployed these days. He wouldn’t put it that way, of course, but most of the time he’s just checking up on the family olive groves, reading philosophy, and meeting people. In the worst case, the servants will tell you to wait in the guest room until he comes back.”

“In that case, you and I will be setting off,” Marcus told him. He turned to Diocles. “You have family here. I assume you’ll go and catch up with them, yes?”

“Yes, Teacher,” Diocles confirmed.

“Since you know your way around the city, I want you to help out the rest of the group navigating the place and tell them off if they’re doing something dumb. Fabius will get you all a guide, but it’s always easier to talk to your fellow apprentices than go bother a guide, especially for minor stuff.”

“Yes! I’ll do my best to keep them in line!” Diocles said enthusiastically.

The rest of the students mumbled a variety of derisive comments but did not protest.

“One final thing - keep those staves I’ve given you on your person at all times,” Marcus told them. “Never leave them out of your sight. They are valuable enough that thieves would be tempted to steal them, and there are a lot of them around here.”

“Yes Teacher!” they chanted, clutching the staves harder in their hands.

“Let’s go,” Marcus said to Regulus, turning towards the Uticensis family estate.

As one of the oldest and richest lineages in Adria, the Uticensis family had a large stretch of land reserved for themselves: not only a single building, but a whole cluster of mansions surrounded by a low wall, and encompassing a garden and an olive tree orchard: a huge luxury on an overpopulated island like Adria where space was at a premium. It was situated on the outskirts of the city, not the center as one might assume, and one couldn’t really just walk up to the houses and knock on the door. Before Marcus could even approach the main gate separating the estate from the rest of the city, he was stopped by a pair of guards: rank four warrior adepts by his estimation: and asked to explain his reasons for coming.

That said, since he was with Regulus and one of the guards immediately recognized his student, they didn’t give him as much trouble as they probably could. Rather than forcing him to wait until someone from the family came to receive him, he was ushered inside and told to go seek out Elder Cato in his study.

“Come in.”

Cato looked up from the book he was reading when they walked inside and then immediately perked up when he saw Regulus.

“Regulus!” he said, snapping the book shut and standing up. He was pretty spry for an old man. “What a surprise! I am glad to see you.”

He then gave Marcus a much less friendly look. “Young man, it is polite to notify the host when you intend to visit. Would it have killed you to send me a letter beforehand?”

“I forgot,” Marcus said honestly.

Cato’s frown only deepened.

“Please Uncle, forgive Teacher. He-“

“I know who I’m dealing with. I won’t make things difficult,” Cato sighed.

He looked around and then dragged a chair from a corner to the center of the room. There was a stack of books already on it: it seemed to serve as makeshift book storage since all the shelves were full, which Marcus found amusing. Such a messy, disorganized way of handling things, so unlike Cato’s usual image of a disciplined and virtuous elder.

That said, Cato didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the sight. He simply took the stack of books and put them on the floor before motioning toward his guests to sit down. There was already one chair for guests present in the center of the room, so now they could all sit down and talk.

“I am glad you are alright,” Cato told Regulus. “How has life been treating you, young man?”

“I can’t complain,” Regulus said. “Teacher Marcus is a great teacher, very knowledgeable and more patient than you said he’d be.”

Marcus raised his eyebrow at Cato, but the man ignored him.

“The facilities are a little… rustic,” Regulus continued. “However, considering what it was like in the beginning, it is understandable. He turned a run-down tower into a fully-functional school in less than a year. I like it there.”

Cato nodded. “So long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He glanced at Marcus. “I heard what happened, of course. Forgive my inaction, but I had no idea your tower was under siege until the whole thing was already over. I would have never let Gaius sacrifice one of my kin like that if I had any say.”

“I deliberately made visiting you my first priority when I landed in the city,” Marcus told him. “I know Gaius wants to meet me, but I want to delay that for a few days. It will be hard to ignore his invitation for that long, but I’m hoping that by visiting you like this I can make him back off a little.”

“Taking advantage of the Uticensis family’s influence, are you?” Cato asked. “Considering what happened, I’ll allow it. I try not to oppose Gaius unless I really have to, but I’ll speak on your behalf. You’ll get three days. I cannot guarantee anything beyond that.”

“Why did Gaius let two foreign groups menace me? Do you know?” Marcus asked.

“This is only speculation, but the reason is probably not overly complex,” Cato said. “Some people do not appreciate that you’ve made a base in so remote a location, away from Great Sea’s power centers. They worry what you might be plotting from there.”

“I was told in no uncertain terms to stay away from Great Sea’s politics,” Marcus protested. “I’m doing exactly what Gaius wants. Why should I be punished for that?”

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Cato told him. “You might want to meddle in Great Sea’s politics at least a little, just so you have someone on your side in the future.”

“I am here to recruit some more adepts as teachers and guards,” Marcus told him.

“Oh? I can recommend some if you want,” Cato told him.

“Please do, although not right now,” Marcus told him. “I wanted to talk to you about Regulus first.”

“What about Regulus?” Cato asked suspiciously.

“In all this time he has been at my tower, there have been no real attempts by the Uticensis family to contact him. There was that Great Sea delegation that came to check up on my students and confirm they were alive and well, but other than that, nothing. It seems to me there is something strange going on between him and the rest of the family,” Marcus explained. “Is Regulus really an Uticensis family member?”

Regulus seemed shocked at the question. “Teacher? What do you mean?”

Cato seemed torn on the topic, his eyes rapidly glancing between Regulus and Marcus, as if dwelling on something.

Finally, he sighed.

“I really hoped this wouldn’t come up until much later,” Cato said.

“Uncle?” Regulus said hesitantly. He seemed really alarmed.

“There is no need to worry, young man,” Cato assured him. “You have been raised among us since birth, and all of the lineage tests have confirmed you are indeed a child of your mother.”

“You… you did multiple lineage tests on me?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Even if you were adopted, I wouldn’t care. Our family accepts adopted children into the fold with some regularity. You know that,” Cato told him.

“So if Regulus is a true scion of the Uticensis family, why does his position seem so uncertain?” Marcus pressed. “I need to know. You already know that he had a curious inability to resonate with any foundational technique until he encountered mine. I now know why, but the reasons are odd, to say the least. If I am to teach Regulus to the best of my ability, I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Cato thought about it in silence for several seconds.

“Odd, you say… I am not surprised,” Cato said, staring at both of them. “You see, Regulus came into this world in a very odd way. Although his mother swore to the High Heavens that he was her true son, she did not give birth to him like you would expect.”

“What? Did he spring, fully formed, out of her forehead?” Marcus asked.

“Teacher…” Regulus sighed.

“No,” Cato said. “He hatched out of a giant egg.”