Chương 22

Later that night, Administrator Ranya stood at the top of the wall of the keep, glaring out toward the tents flapping in the darkness. Do they know the preparations I've been making? Her thoughts spun on a low undercurrent of panic. Can the Wryton girl's words be trusted? Her story is unusual. But if a lie, why would the Imperial Sanctum come? A familiar presence appeared at her side.

She only noticed Maylor Balkan, an assuming man with the Archetype Shade Walker, because of the silver armband gleaming in the starlight. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Visitor is here. Might want to pretend you aren't about to have a stroke." She scowled at him, but he had already vanished. Still, the joke had worked. Ranya took a deep breath and suppressed her tension. If nothing else, Maylor's presence was a reassurance. Due to the treaties between the two countries, unsanctioned delegations could contain only a single Silver Conduit. And within the Silver Tier, she had never met someone as capable as Maylor.

To her surprise, it wasn't one of Maester's toadies that came to pester her during her vigil. It was the leader of the third faction operating within Peakhold. The portly leader of the merchants, Tafaro Wheedle, took the steps one at a time.

"Greetings, Administrator." Wheedle said.

"What a fine night."

"It would be a finer night for sleeping," Ranya groused.

"I wish- wait, Tafaro, why do you smell like flowers?" Ranya's nose twitched. The floral scent was strong and mixed. Wheedle offered a pained smile.

"Just some domestic matters, of no concern. Any movement?"

"None," Ranya clicked her teeth.

"Since their initial demand that I had over the Conduit, they've sent no ravens. But with the Maester's hasty response response- really, demanding the Wryton be held for tribunal?"

"What about the Duke?" Wheedle questioned. Ranya shook her head.

"Obviously, word has reached him. But, to us, he's said nothing. So we are in this cursed standoff. Those foolish Sanctum snakes and their pride." Wheedle pursed his lips.

"I've spent most of the day watching their movements. And rather than what they say, perhaps it is better to consider what they are actually doing."

"What do you mean?" Ranya asked. Wheedle rubbed his chin.

"Now, initially, I was quite fearful of what their presence might mean here. I have business involvements with some from the Sanctum. It occurred to me that certain intolerant individuals, if they were to discover those relationships, might want to seek vengeance. Yet a strange encounter today had me rethinking. Look at them. They make no move toward the hold itself, where they Conduit they are seeking waits. They are just sitting on the ridge, observing the camp."

"They see the farce of this trial for what it is. They judge us, waiting for our excuses to run out," Ranya sneered. Wheedle gave her a sharp glance.

"You are speaking from prejudice. Set aside your assumptions and look." The Administrator tensed, anger swirling in her gut. She didn't appreciate being chided. Yet she forced those instincts down. Wheedle wouldn't have risen to become the unchallenged merchant leader in Peakhold without certain instincts. So she looked.

"A camp ringed with guards. Double shifts, even into the night." Gradually, Ranya's expression turned thoughtful.

"Also, rather than looking to the hold, most of their vigilance is around the hold. Into the wilderness. But that makes sense. From Wryton's story, the individual she liberated should have had the opportunity to return to the Sanctum."

"True," Wheedle nodded.

"But in fairness, did she have time to observe the truth? And I think the behavior of the Sanctum speaks to their true thoughts. Their arrangement is more about preventing someone else from making it in to Peakhold."

"Then the individual that Trier rescued did not-" Ranya rocked back on her heels.

"An Imperial defector? That would be- How did you come to this conclusions?"

"If I'm honest?" Wheedle hesitated.

"It was a Kirkland Albion." Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"A quarrelsome, tiresome troublemaker," Ranya shook her head.

"Sometimes, you seem quite ignorant of a distinction between of past and present, needing those separate manifestations to be compressed into a single monolith." Wheedle looked amused.

"Perhaps Kirkland Albion was once those things, but he has now Ascended to Tier I. And his Archetype appears powerful." Just as quickly as he had vanished, Maylor Balkan reappeared.

"This I can confirm. He may be an arrogant ass, but he's still an Albion. He burns with energy, struts around with it. Near the limit of Tier I already."

"He bought a chair from me earlier today" Wheedle continued. He pointed to massive tent across the hill.

"So I was thinking about sitting- well. I can feel a Silver's energy from there, just poised. The one Silver the Sanctum is allowed, on an unsanctioned visit. But I've been starting to wonder-" Maylor flickered out of existence. Both waited in the cool night air. When Maylor reappeared, his expression was grim.

"I don't fucking believe it; that isn't a Silver at all, just an overstuffed bronzie." Ranya's stomach did flipflops.

"Which means there is a genuine Imperial Silver somewhere in the area."

"Probably trying to track down that defector before we find them," Wheedle nodded.

Kirk yawned and stretched. The air within his tent was warm as summer simmered its way to fall. Yet it just made him feel lazy and relaxed. His attention wandered down to his Archetypes. He released a sigh of relief. While sleeping, his Runic Battery II had refilled with energy. Not that it had gone anywhere near empty, even while nourishing his two Archetypes during his return to Eira. Just it was a relief to know he wouldn't run out of fuel. The first few moments of exiting the Rift had been very unpleasant.

Kirk dressed and reached for his pack for breakfast. Then he paused; he had given the remnants of his food to that tall woman. He scratched his cheek. Okay, first things first, get breakfast. Then… track down Maett and Zuri? Stretching, Kirk loosened his muscles and dressed. But the entire while, his mind whirred. Most of this new life had felt like jumping from one situation to another. And he could think of a half dozen things he wanted to accomplish today.

On the one hand, he wanted to hurry back into the Rift as soon as possible. But there was the issue of tall woman, left by the Administrator to stand in the sun. Then there was the dead laborer- Kirk wished to make sure he was buried, see if he could find the dog. Finally, his own abilities: getting more experience with the Larian Saber and improving his growing Manifestations. But he also needed to find out more about his new Ascension requirements.

He checked the book he had brought; it hadn't listed the method to cultivate Greater Fire. And what did a Greater Hunt indicate? Kirk pushed his way out of his tent and stretched one more time for good measure. It was less satisfying than having an immediate goal that he understood, but it was at least reassuring he still had so much more growing to do. He could spend a little time improving his Runes as well. Kirk froze. He poked his head up. Already the sun was peeking over the horizon. Kirk paled.

"Shit, the dawn patrol." He wiggled into this leather armor, strapped the Larian Saber across his sore back, and plucked up his supplies. Grimacing, Kirk decided that half a waterskin would have to do. He was sprinting out of the residence quarter when a new crowd caught his attention. By the Administrator's building, an aide stood on a platform and read from a large scroll.

"-recent developments, Administrator Ranya has seen fit to exercise an emergency power: all justice matters will be handled by her personally. In response to the foreign presence, all Conduits are asked to comply with hold-regulations, to the letter. Extreme care is recommended for those on patrol.

"In addition, the Administrator is also exercising her emergency power to put two more Conduit Troops on retrainer. Consult the noticeboard for further details. I repeat, Due to-""Kirk!" Kirk twisted and looked around. Clara, and will obvious unwillingness, Rufus hurried over. She smiled at Kirk.

"Wow, I worried you would be waiting for us, because we wanted to hear the announcement. But now we can all go together." Kirk nodded, feeling some of his internal tension ease. He took another glance at Clara's sunny disposition. He even had time to use a silver coin, some of the change from purchasing the chair last night, to get a breakfast bun. His growling stomach finally let out a noise of contentment.

"Let's adjust our normal route," Clara suggested when they exited the hold. Her eyes drifted toward the flapping tents of the Imperial Sanctum.

"Perhaps we head more west than usual."

"Extreme care. Utmost caution." Tall and sullen, Rufus repeated these phased to himself and clenched a fist.

"Familiar routes might be better. And we can't chat like we usually do. What if an imperial spy sneaks up on us?" Kirk frowned.

"Why would they attack us?"

"Well, they are trying to get their treasure back, right?" Rufus countered. Today, he seemed almost eager to clash with Kirk.

"They can't get that woman, but they could kidnap us. Well, you, and ransom you back. Basically, you painted a target on our backs."

"Rufus!" Clara chided. But Kirk rocked back on his heels. He pressed his lips together. He didn't know if the Imperial Sanctum was true, but he had lived long enough in this body to acknowledge that he attracted a disproportionate amount of attention. Rufus continued to talk, sneering at Kirk's silence.

"We need to be especially vigilant, because we are all Tier 0s."

"I'm actually Tier I," Kirk said.

"So-" Rufus eyes widened.

"That's just a rumor!" Kirk said.

"It might be a rumor, but its also true."