Chương 82: Caer Virell

Distant columns of smoke were the first things they saw, rising beyond the mountain ridges ahead. Thin plumes trailed into the evening sky, staining the red beneath the descending sun. The horizon burned copper and ash, the light catching on the drifting haze and turning it molten.

"Mommy, is something burning?" Serel asked, pointing ahead as she shifted in Vera's arms atop Vorthalor's back.

"No. Those are from the forges," Vera said, leaning closer.

"Caer Virell has more forges than you can count. It's the heart of the Covenant. Most of its weapons and armor are made there. You've got smiths working day and night, just hammering away in front of open hearths." She eyed the smoke.

"With that much of it, I'd guess they're preparing for something big." Serel turned to look at her.

"Don't they get tired?"

"I bet they do."

"And hot?"

"Probably."

"Then how do they do it?"

"Who knows?" Vera considered that with exaggerated seriousness.

"Maybe they're all made of leather at this point. Forced to work in front of so many fires, they've forgotten how to be anything else. Just hammer, quench, hammer." Serel's eyes widened.

"Do not listen to her, Serel," Elaria said from the front without turning.

"They work in shifts. There is no forced labor within Caer Virell." Serel blinked. Then a slow realization crossed her face as she looked back at Vera with unmistakable accusation.

"Mommy, you lied to me!" Vera laughed.

"I didn't lie. I was speculating." Elaria's head angled slightly, burning crimson eyes glancing back through the slits of her visor. Vera raised both brows.

"Don't give me that look. I'm teaching her critical thinking. It's an important skill." A faint frown touched Elaria's mouth before she faced forward again. Serel mimicked the motion, turning away from Vera with a small, just slightly too dramatic huff. Vera didn't mind. She only laughed under her breath as the wind rushed past them. They crested the tree-lined ridge of a high mountain, bright foliage clinging to the slopes below.

Vorthalor spread his wings wide, catching an updraft that lifted them in a smooth, rising arc. Serel squealed, her earlier indignation immediately forgotten. At the peak of the climb, the dragon folded his wings halfway and tipped forward. The gentler ascent snapped into a sharp dive, and they plunged down the far side of the mountain in a clean drop. The maneuver wasn't anything new. Vorthalor did it nearly every time they crossed a high ridge, presumably because he knew Serel enjoyed it.

Vera was also fairly certain Elaria had told him to stop more than once. It clearly hadn't made much of a difference. Their descent carried them along the slope until the forest broke abruptly at a wide river, shimmering water cutting through a valley in a broad, steady sweep. It stretched across their path like a strip of hammered steel, reflecting the last of the light.

Vorthalor leveled out just above the surface, his glide smoothing into something more steady and controlled as they followed the current toward the distant smoke. Caer Virell didn't announce itself with a single skyline the way Marrowfen did. Rather, it unfolded in tiers. Built by a high crest that curved with the river's bend, the terrain itself served as a natural defense, dark basalt and pastel granite climbing slopes along broad terraces.

Each level was defined by walls and arches that caught the sinking sun and held it in bands of amber light that threaded the city in veins of orange. It was big. Not sprawling or messy, but big in a way like it had been built by endless generations of people who kept expecting to need more—more soldiers, more wagons, more work. Even to Vera's untrained eye, it felt like a city built to hold and endure.

"Is that it?" Serel asked, awe blending through her voice.

"Sure is," Vera replied.

"It's so big! It's where Mama lives?"

"Yep." Serel leaned sideways, trying to peer past Elaria for a better look. Vera tightened her grip around the girl's waist but let her lean as far as she dared. The distance closed quickly, details sharpening further with every beat of Vorthalor's wings. The dark sweep of the outer walls resolved into layered stone reinforced with iron-banded gates, while red-veined basalt towers rose at intervals, their surfaces etched with sigils of old suns.

Vorthalor dipped lower, gliding over a guardian tower set into the wall. Two armored sentries looked up as they passed, fists striking their chests in salute. Elaria nodded once in response. Caer Virell was divided into three primary districts. The Lower Tiers spread widest beneath them, serving as the civilian heart of the city. Homes, markets, halls, and plazas filled the terraces in orderly clusters.

Roads curved and intersected in patterns that were too clean to be accidental, with clear lanes for wagons, supply lines, and marching columns visible even from above. Beyond that lay the Middle Tiers, where the city's pulse grew louder and industry dominated. Most of the smoke rose from here, originating from walled forge complexes packed tightly together, their stacks breathing steadily into the sky.

Vera also spotted several sections that struck her as barracks and drill yards sat alongside warehouses and armories. She found herself idly wondering how many soldiers the place could house if it had to. Too many, probably. And not enough. At the highest point stood the High Tiers, nestled against the inner rise of the crest and encircled by walls brighter than anything below. This was the core of the Covenant of Flame. Flamehold Virell. The Ember Court and Pale Court. The Conclave Spire. Cinder Council Hall.

The Shardvault Complex. And more. Locations she knew. Or had known, in the game. They spread out across broad walkways and polished squares, the stonework cleaner, sharper, and less crowded than the tiers below. Vera took her time with it, comparing what she saw to what she remembered. Beyond merely being bigger, there was a real weight behind seeing it like this. A weight that witnessing it from behind a monitor couldn't capture.

She wanted to say that it had something to do with the way the air seemed to hold heat and expectation at the same time, like the city itself carried a certain readiness. It felt like there was a trace of panic and fear mixed in as well, but not in an overtly bad way—sust in the sense that it had been built with war in mind and had accepted that fact a long time ago. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Caer Virell might not be the most beautiful of the cities built by the hands of man, but it knew exactly what it was for.

"It's so big," Serel breathed in her arms.

"What's that, Mommy? And that? And why is that road glowing?" Vera followed her pointing hand, sorting through her memory as best she could.

"The glowing roads are Ember Roads," she said.

"They're heat-veined stone. They light up more as the sun goes down." That had always been cool. She didn't really understand why no other cities had it. Serel made a small sound of delight.

"And those?" She pointed at large circular basins set into several terraces.

"Vigil Pyres," Vera answered.

"Oathfires. They're kept in honor of the Quiet Pyre." She glanced around, then motioned toward a severe, dark structure rising near the center of the High Tiers.

"That's the Black Archive. Records in there go back to well before the fall of the Ember Throne. Even as far back as the Pale Cycle. But it's guarded by the Veilbound Archivists, so no one is allowed within the inner sections." Serel gasped as if that meant something enormous.

"There are bridges between tiers too," Vera added, spotting the sweeping arcs of stone spanning the drop between levels.

"I think they're called… Warwind Bridges? Is that right, Elaria?"

"Yes," the woman answered from the front.

"Their purpose is to allow full formations to move easily through the city when necessary."

"I want to walk on one!" Serel declared.

"Yeah?" Vera chuckled.

"Maybe we'll try it sometime then." The girl kept asking questions about the city as Vorthalor carried them past the Lower Tiers and over the Middle without slowing, heading straight for the High Tiers. Below, people paused and looked up, and Vera caught the shift in posture among them. They recognized Vorthalor, as well as what he signified. Crossing into the High Tiers, Vera's gaze drifted toward a section set slightly apart near the inner wall.

From here, she could just about see a large cluster of buildings arranged around a number of courtyards that looked somewhat familiar. If she was right, that was where her guild, the Last Hearth, had its base. It had also been where a lot of players kept their homes. She would need to go there and see what was left. Vorthalor angled toward one of the tallest rises of the High Tiers, where a massive bastion of dark stone stood reinforced with pale granite ribs.

Its upper walls were lined with braziers, low flames burning steadily beneath banners marked with blackened suns. That was Flamehold Virrel, seat of the Pyric Oath. The order Elaria served as Keeper of. Connected to it by an elevated walkway rose a spire ringed with narrow balconies. As it climbed, the material gradually shifted to a warmer, ember-toned stone near the crown, like the structure had been dipped in fire and never completely cooled. The Ember Courts.

Vera supposed it could technically count as Elaria's throne. The woman was about as close as you could get to royalty, after all. Throne felt wrong, though. Office fit better. Either way, that was where they were heading. A faint tightness settled in her stomach. … Nervousness? Again? It was similar to Karthvale, right before meeting Lorin. At least this time, she was reasonably confident she wouldn't be accused of a crime. Probably.

Still, it was mildly irritating how things related to Elaria could make her feel like this. Irritating. And, if she was being honest, a little embarrassing. Vorthalor circled Flamehold Virell once before angling toward the attached spire, slowing near the back where tall vertical openings split a portion of the stone and offered a clear way inside. Serel let out a small cry as the dragon shifted, and Vera tightened her hold on her automatically.

Vorthalor's claws struck the wall with a heavy scrape, biting into the stone as he latched onto the side of the spire beside the opening. His wings folded in as he lowered his neck toward it. Elaria rose without hesitation. She kept a firm grip on Vorthalor's scales as she moved along his neck and then jumped through the opening. Vera stared at her. The woman glanced back.

"Are you coming?" Vorthalor angled his head slightly, one golden eye turning toward her as if wondering the same thing. Vera felt slightly awkward, clinging to the dragon's back with Serel in her arm. Instead of climbing along his neck like Elaria had, she shifted Serel into a proper princess carry and allowed herself to fall off. Serel yelped—sounding startled and delighted at once—as they dropped. Vera rolled midair and extended her foot downward, feeding the lightest touch of Resonance into it. Breakstep.

Her foot met resistance where there was nothing. A subtle force pressed back. She placed another careful step, then another, half-walking up the empty air toward the opening before finally stepping through and landing beside Elaria. She set Serel down. Elaria gave her a look that might have carried just the faintest hint of judgment, as if Vera was in the wrong for showing off just slightly.

"You know," Vera said, ignoring that look and taking in the room's clean stone and austere atmosphere, "have you considered getting Vorthalor a landing platform? This isn't exactly the most dignified way for someone of your standing to arrive at her office."

"I very much doubt anyone has concerns regarding my dignity, Mournvale," Elaria replied evenly as she removed her helmet and ran a hand through her vermilion hair.

"No? Fair. You do have that intimidating holy-warrior thing going on." Vera shrugged.

"Still, it might be easier for Serel if she didn't have to dismount a ninety-degree dragon every time she visits." Elaria's brow creased. She glanced toward Serel, who had already wandered back to the opening to peer out at Vorthalor clinging to the spire's side.

"…Perhaps you have a point."

"I do sometimes," Vera said with a small smile. Elaria gave her another brief look before turning to walk toward a dais at the far end of the room. Light gathered in her hand, coalescing into a long sword. The steel gleamed as if fresh from a forge, with veins of trapped fire pulsing along its length. Vera's eyes locked on it and the Resonance rolling off the blade. That was Dawnbrand. Elaria's Legacy-tier weapon. This was the first time Vera saw it in person. Elaria hadn't drawn it once during their journey.

"Wha—!" Serel spun around, staring.

"Mama, is that yours?" Elaria stopped, looking back with a slightly surprised expression.

"It is."

"So cool—!" Serel hurried over to get a closer look.

"Cool…?" Elaria murmured. Vera smiled as Elaria had to subtly adjust her grip to keep the blade just out of the girl's reach. It didn't stop the girl from circling it like she was inspecting loot in a preview window.

"Mommy, her sword is cooler than your axe," Serel announced. Vera's smile tightened. Stillwake appeared in her hand, marrow-bright metal settling into her grip like muscle memory.

"It's a halberd, Serel, not an axe," she said, letting a thread of Resonance from her own Legacy-tier weapon bleed into the room. The chamber reacted as Stillwake's presence pressed against Dawnbrand's heat, the two signatures meeting in the air with a faint, charged tension. Sure, Dawnbrand was iconic. A poster-weapon of sorts in Ashen Legacy. It had cutscenes and lore entries. It deserved respect. But Vera had farmed Stillwake herself.

She hadn't spent countless hours, optimized routes, and suffered through maddening drop grinds just to have it casually dismissed as an uncool 'axe.' Not even by her own daughter. Serel looked between the two weapons, seeming to weigh both of their appearances. Then she shook her head firmly.

"Mama's is still cooler!" Vera shot Elaria a glare. Elaria returned it with a faintly perplexed one. After a moment, the woman gently nudged Serel back and mounted Dawnbrand above the dais.

"If you wish to see what it can do, I can show it to you on another occasion, Serel," she said.

"Mmm, I want to!" Serel nodded eagerly.

"I can show you what mine can do, too," Vera added, giving Stillwake a smooth, controlled spin before resting its butt against the floor. Serel glanced at her.

"But I've already seen that."

"No, you haven't. You've seen me swing it a couple of times, that's all. Trust me when I say I can do cool things with this as well." Serel licked her lip, thinking it over with maybe a touch too much seriousness before brightening.

"Okay! I want to see that too!" Vera's smile returned.

"Great." She was aware she was being slightly childish, but she didn't care. Her daughter was not going to grow up thinking she was the uncool parent. A faint sigh drifted past her—subtle enough that she couldn't be entirely sure it wasn't imagined—as Elaria stepped away and moved toward a desk positioned near the opening in the wall. There was a stack of documents waiting there.

A knock sounded from the heavy redwood door set into the far wall, its surface darkened as if it'd been cooked above a fire at some point.

"Enter," Elaria spoke without turning. The door opened. A bald man in a fitted crimson-and-white uniform stepped inside, a sigil stitched over his chest. His eyes went straight to Elaria.

"Keeper, welcome back," he said, inclining his head.

"Preparations have been completed as you instructed through Ashmark."

"Good." Elaria flipped through the documents with her thumb. Vera studied him. This had to be Andrin, the adjutant. He did look vaguely familiar. She was impressed by how he hadn't so much as glanced at her or Serel yet. Was that out of professionalism? Eventually, Elaria's documents vanished into her Vaultring, and she turned toward Vera.

"We are leaving."

"Leaving?" Vera looked away from Andrin.

"We just got here."

"And now we are leaving." Elaria stepped past her and walked back to remove Dawnbrand from the dais she had only just mounted it on.

"Where to? Your estate?"

"Yes."

"Does that happen to be where those 'preparations' have been completed?"

"Indeed."

"…And what exactly are they?" Elaria paused just long enough that Vera somehow felt unsettled. The woman's eyes settled on Vera. She swore she caught the corner of Elaria's mouth rise.

"You will see."