Chương 10

Muytta eventually left, after providing Kirk with a few supplies to clean and maintain the saber. Yawning, he stumbled to the bathhouse for a soak and then collapsed into sleep. The next morning, he turned his mind to his next goals. I don't have enough Feats for two Archetypes, Kirk bit his lip as he rubbed the oil along the Larian Saber. If I want to improve, the predictable Feats seem like Solo Kills and Alien Moon. If I work hard, I can probably try to improve One Strike Kill and Runic Castor.

But this is all contingent on the importance of Refinements. Why doesn't the Maester Council release any information on those? Kirk despite his lack of understanding, he trusted one thing: effort. So he went to the merchant quarter and purchased more food and water. He carefully checked and repacked his bag. He also asked the runner for a copy of the Conduit Code, which was quickly fetched for him. But as he expected, none of the information offered by the Council was helpful.

It was all high-minded rhetoric about loyalty to the just cause of the Kingdom. None of it related to actually being a Conduit. As usual, walking around the shopping area, with the other Conduits and guards, was uncomfortable. His presence created a magnetic field, pulling attention to him. And true to its nature, the Beast Archetype catalogued and informed Kirk of all of it. It was almost a relief when a voice rose, a short distance ahead.

"Make way! Peakhold business. Clear the gate." Kirk looked over. A group of about fifteen Conduits, all dressed in shining metal armor, moved from the Administrator's quarter toward the front of the hold. Other Conduits, usually in groups of two or three, scrambled out of the way as they marched forward. Kirk narrowed his eyes. Who are-"Feeling prurient? That's the Iron Hammer Troop." Kirk turned around to find Maett and Zuri walking toward him.

The slight man strutted forward, while Zuri pulled a handcart covered in a tarp. Maett shook his head.

"Such a blunt instrument that it is almost beneath me to mock them. But that's one of the perks of being a retained Troop. Queues and political niceties are beneath you." Kirk nodded to the two of them.

"It is good to see you." He scratched his cheek. Even to himself, his greeting sounded stilted. The corner of Maett's mouth quirked up, but he didn't comment. Instead, he said.

"Truly an auspicious morn, Brother Kirk. Since our paths have crossed, is there any manner to settling our debt? Does the indigestion of unsatisfied curiosity burn at you? Perhaps an old foe has poked their grotesque visage back into your life, and you need an expedient-""Maett," Zuri interrupted. Kirk's focus shifted toward the woman. Her tension had been elevated even more from their previous departure. The woman was tense and silent, looking at the ground rather than at Kirk.

"Don't be a fool. We're wasting Young Master Kirk's valuable time." Kirk thought it was strange. Although she didn't point her gaze toward him, the buzzing tension of her frown bothered him even more. Kirk's gaze shifted from Zuri to the covered handcart behind her. In response, she sidestepped to block his gaze. She gave Maett a sharp glance. Zuri's expression twisted- it reminded Kirk of the fury he had seen on the wounded woman's face as she stomped away from the merchant. Again, Kirk scratched his cheek.

Maett shrugged.

"Well, ponder it. Fare thee well, the ever-present taskmaster of necessity drives us-""Kirkland Albion." The trio turned. Administrator Ranya strode across the dirt path, heading in their direction. Behind her were several aides and two armored Conduits. Kirk felt Zuri behind him flinch and take a half step backward, then stop herself so as not to attract more attention. Kirk didn't know why Zuri was acting so differently from their first meeting, but he had a connection with these two.

He took several steps away from them, meeting Administrator Ranya in the middle of the open space.

"Please call me Kirk." Administrator Ranya stopped with her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Fine. Kirk. I'm here to inform you that, due to the fact you flagrantly ignored your mandatory patrols, you have been placed on probation. Despite the fact I specifically reminded you. Given your… history." For a moment, Kirk's mind went blank. But from his own memories, he did recall that the Administrator had mentioned something about patrols. But he had been so fresh in this new consciousness that the requirement hadn't sunk in. The Administrator raised her voice.

"Although we might be far from the Capital, law rules here in Peakhold. You will patrol tomorrow morning at first light. And if you ignore your responsibilities as a Conduit once more, I will strip you of your Runic Interpreter." A nearby Conduit unleashed a low hiss, like a sauteed tea kettle. As always, Kirk's Beast Archetype made him uncomfortably aware of all the sharp gazes that pressed on him. Yet he did his best to ignore those looks and focus on the two emotions warring in his chest. First, frustration.

He hadn't known; or he had, but he had very reasonably forgotten. Without a rudder, he had been tossed into this life and now was being punished for failing to keep up. Secondly, guilt. He still remembered the power those three phrases had exerted on his nascent consciousness. No compromise of justice. The price of glory is responsibility. He had failed on one of his responsibilities. Even if he felt like the situation, this sudden stormy sky that swept over him wasn't fair, Kirk couldn't deny he had failed.

But the sky isn't fair, is it? He sucked in a breath. He forced himself to calmness. No use dwelling. Now is the time to focus on what I can do. The one thing you can rely on is suffering. Yet just as Kirk had reined in his emotions, the Administrator continued to expound, more to the crowd than him.

"Here in Peakhold, all Conduits must do their share. No matter your family, you wield not special influence here." Kirk narrowed his eyes, his temper almost a physical organ, swelling with the rush of hot blood as his heart beat quickened.

"You aren't talking to my family. You are speaking to me." Administrator Ranya finally turned from the crowd and looked at him. They held each other's gazes for a time. Kirk could tell she wanted to reprimand him, but couldn't find fault with his words. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. In the end, he bowed his head.

"I'll be ready for the patrol tomorrow morning." The Administrator snorted and turned away. As the confrontation ended, the surrounding Conduits whispered to one another. Kirk spun around; sometime during the face off, both Zuri and Maett had vanished. He released a small sigh at that; at least the two of them had managed to avoid being dragged into the spectacle. A part of him was disappointed he wouldn't see them, but considering Zuri's strange mood, perhaps it was for the best.

Kirk hefted his food supplies and grimaced. Well, well, well. As much day-old bread and dried fish as I want today. Kirk headed back to his tent. A part of him rankled to be prevented from going into the Rift and taking another step toward earning his Ascension, but he also understood his current Feats weren't quite enough. And also, Kirk didn't mind admitting to himself, the kerfuffle with the patrol served as a reminder. There was much he didn't understand about this world.

Rushing into an Ascension without research would be foolish. After dropping off his pack, he spent an hour rubbing a rag across the Larian Saber until the dark blade shined. With each deliberate movement, Kirk's bubbling emotions settled. Away from the gazes, and the Administrator's sharp tone, Kirk decompressed. Then he ate a late breakfast and proceeded back to the merchant's quarter. By now, the rest of the hold had woken up; it wasn't just the Conduits intending to delve into the Rift about.

Common laborers were also present, sweating from hauling wood from the valley up to the ridge. Due to the few awkward interactions Kirk had with the one merchant, he approached the small, wooden shops of a few others today. Specifically, to ask about the catalytics required for Ascension. The responses he received sat like cold stones in his stomach.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare sell catalytics to you, Young Master Albion," A sweaty man tittered and rubbed his hands together.

"Consider the purity- the obvious quality of your Archetype, the energy required for a proper Ascension- a disappointing result would be- ahem. Not that you won't thrive no matter what-" Across the dirt track, at a much dingier establishment, Kirk tried again.

"By the great wound." The woman gasped.

"Kirkland Albion? Buyin' Catalytics at my shop?

'Ere? Never."

"Call me Kirk," Kirk said. The two stared at each other, both unsure of each other, but for different reasons. Kirk cleared his throat and tried again.

"Let me ask something different then. How much do catalytics cost?"

"I ain't sellin' to you," The woman repeated. Kirk felt his jaw clench.

"I ain't buyin' from you. What is the price?" She narrowed her eyes at him. Then shrugged.

"Well. If you weren't you, Young Master Albion, I s'pose I would tell you that the cheap Catalytics are about 50 silver a set. Would recommend against it- shoddy refining means you might as well just suck down toxins inside the Rift, rather than payin' me for the privilege. Finer stuff would run ya four to five gold." Kirk thanked the woman and departed, letting that information sink in.

Kirk's understanding of the economy was shallow, but for the cheap merchant to sell catalytics for four to five gold meant that they were out of the reach of most. He looked around the hold with new eyes. A few dozen individuals dressed in mismatched armor stood around the gate of the hold, shouting to attract attention.

"Tier I Conduit, skilled in scouting," A young man with a scraggy beard said. From the bags under his eyes, he hadn't slept peacefully in a mouth.

"Got a reliable lead on a geode. Looking for reliable partners."

"Willing to porter!" An older Conduit said. His limbs were thin and malnourished, to the point the leather cuirass hung off him. He licked his lips; even his tongue looked dry.

"Willing to do anything." A duo of women in well cared for plate armor spoke quietly to one another. In the end, they approached the scraggy beard young man. The older man watched the discussion and the departure with hollow eyes. When they were gone, he cleared his throat, coughed slightly, and then rasped out.

"Willing to porter." Kirk's heart felt uneasy as he turned away. Without strength, what choice do you have? And to gather more strength, according to most, you need expensive catalytics. But that's all based on the premise that the energies inside the Rift will drive you mad. He continued to inquire with merchants, but they all started to point him in a certain direction.

"If you wish for catalytics worthy of you, Young Master," A merchant demurred.

"Surely, only the wares of Tafaro Wheelde will suffice." Sighing, Kirk found himself outside of the same wooden merchant stand. He frowned at the crimson ribbons hanging down the sides, shook his head, then walked inside. And immediately froze.

"What are you doing?" Kirk blurted out. Two people turned to look at him. Merchant Tafaro turned his head slightly, then shifted it back, showing only his silhouette. He jutted out his chin and sucked in his cheeks to emphasize his jawline. On either side of him, two torches burned in metal stands. The windows had been thrown open, but it was still quite smokey inside the building. Opposite the merchant was an artist, pausing in his labors with a stick of charcoal. In front of him was a half-made sketch.

"You." Tafaro grunted the word.

"It is none of your business." Kirk sneezed from the smoke. The artist offered Kirk an awkward smile.

"Ahem. I'll give you two some privacy."

"You do not need-" Tafaro said, but the artist already hurried away. The merchant sighed.

"Alright, out with it. What do you want?" Despite the smoke, Kirk took a few steps into the house and peered at the sketch. It was pretty good, albeit slightly stained by soot. Apparently, his examination took a bit too long, because Tafaro offered an awkward cough.

"If you must know, it will be a gift for my wife. She misses me. As such, I will provide a remembrance to satisfy her." Kirk gave Tafaro Wheedle a strange look.

"You think what she wants is this?" For a second, Tafaro's eyes turned sharp.

"You have spent your whole life coasting on privilege, you fool boy. And now you even dare stick your nose into domestic issues? You have no idea of what it's like, to bind your life to another. To know them, wounds and all. Especially what it's like to marry a Conduit, to watch her push herself to the limit, to nurse her back to health over and over again. At the bottom of the Rift wait untold horrors. Yet she cannot let it go. Our family isn't-." Tafaro's breathing was heavy as he stuttered to a stop.

The two stared at each other. Kirk's skin prickled, even as the Beast hissed out its distaste. But in the end, Tafaro sagged.

"You are right, of course. This isn't about her. This is about me. About the compromises that I cannot make. So. Your business?" Kirk blinked several times as he pushed aside the strange vulnerability of this merchant. And perhaps because of his attitude, Kirk decided to cut directly to the point.

"I wanted to ask about Catalytics. The price to Ascend, and also- is the environment of the Rift so dangerous? Will you absorb pollution if you Ascend inside?"

"Unequivocally yes." Tafaro frowned at Kirk.

"Surely, your parents-" Tafaro blinked at what he saw on Kirk's face.

"They truly didn't tell you? You know nothing?"

"I have no memories," Kirk shook his head. For a moment, the merchant remained still. He moved over to a shelf, pulled down a small silver flask, and took a sip from it. Sighing, Tafaro said.

"The Bloody Solstice. Even a Maester died on that day. Not an Outer or even an Inner Maester, but a Peak Maester! One of the core figures of the Lor Kingdom. And even-" Tafaro's gaze swiveled to Kirk.

"Did you know you had an uncle? Your mother's brother. He, too, died on that bloody day." Kirk shook his head. What don't you understand about no memories?

"In the past, Ascension in the Rifts was more common." Tafaro took another swig from his flask.

"Although there is a trace of alien otherness, the energy there is vigorous. So many took the risk. Until that summer day. At a routine Maester meeting, to which many powerful Conduits had been invited, one woman's Archetype exploded with madness. Insuppressible envy, it was said. Her Archetype possessed her body and rampaged.

"Because the attack was so unexpected, a dozen individuals, including some of the Kingdoms most powerful Conduits, were slaughtered." Tafaro's gaze became grim.

"It is why the Kingdom is in a state of crisis. The greatest talents of the previous generation died or were maimed. Due to that, the position of Kingdom's Protector, the most powerful Conduit of Lor, remains empty. Even to this day."