Chương 266

Pauline, demonstrating the survival instincts of a seasoned rogue, stood up immediately. She offered a respectful bow to the Veil Priestess and slipped out of the hut without a word, leaving the two of them alone. Asteria walked slowly to the edge of the cot and sat on the carved stool Pauline had just vacated. For a long moment, she just looked at him, her silver eyes tracing the lines of his face as if to verify he was truly there. Then, the facade shattered.

She reached out, wrapping both of her hands around his right hand. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly as she clutched it with a desperate grip.

"For a moment, I feared you were going to take his hand," Asteria whispered, her voice cracking.

"When Uther offered you the path to the truth of the universe, with an entire nation's resources to pursue your path... I felt my heart stop. I know what your Class demands of you, love. I know how deeply you hunger for such answers." Orion looked down at their joined hands and was not offended, strangely enough. Once, he would have raged at her lack of trust, but he could see now that her words were born of fear, not conviction.

"I want the truth, yes, but not if the price is turning the world into a graveyard. I will carve my own path and find my own answers. I have no need for one such as he." Asteria let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against their knuckles.

"I am so incredibly proud of you. You stood before a monster capable of unspeakable horrors and held your head high. Even rejecting a temptation that would have broken a lesser man would have been enough, but you managed to slow him enough for help to arrive. I'm truly proud of you, Moonbeam." She raised her head, her silver eyes shining with unshed tears.

"But I am terrified, Orion. You are brilliant, yet brilliance draws the darkest eyes. If you keep putting yourself between monsters and their prize, sooner or later, you will fail. And I cannot lose you. I cannot. Please."

"I will be more careful," Orion promised softly. There was a fragility in his mother he'd rarely seen, perhaps only hinted at after their reunion in the Forge, and he didn't know how to make things better. For all his intelligence, some aspects of the human condition still eluded him.

"You are recklessness personified," Asteria corrected, offering a fragile smile. She squeezed his hand once more before letting go, her posture slowly straightening as she pulled the Veil Priestess's mantle back over her shoulders.

"But we survived. And now, we must face an entirely different kind of battlefield." She stood, smoothing her robes.

"The High Council convenes soon. Your father has summoned the leadership to address the threat posed by Uther, and you are to attend." Orion swung his legs off the cot, gingerly testing his balance, before reaching for his coat.

"Pauline told me as much. What do they want from me?"

"Information, of course. You were the one who spoke with him most, on topics unknown to all who listened," Asteria said smoothly. Again, she looked torn between pride and exhaustion.

"But you must tread carefully. These are Cyril's true leaders, not merely their representatives. They bow to no one and tolerate no insolence. You will speak only when spoken to. You will answer their inquiries clearly and concisely. Do not volunteer theories unless requested, and do not, under any circumstances, reveal the full extent of what you gleaned from the Alchemist unless you are directly questioned."

"I understand," Orion nodded. He didn't exactly know why Asteria was worried, given that he'd publicly rejected Uther's offer, but perhaps it was a fear born of the difficulties they'd faced in the Sanctum. For a moment, Orion was struck by a strange sense of disconnect. Not even a year ago, his greatest problem had been evading Morliana's notice and surviving long enough to escape her repression. Now, it seemed like such a minor worry.

The entire Magocracy was at stake, and he was at the heart of the effort to protect it, despite lacking the power of many others. But that won't always be the case. I have been growing stronger, and soon I'll reach tier three. When that happens, I'll gain an A-rank class and all the power that comes with it.

"Good. Now, stand up," Asteria commanded.

"Show them the heir of the Voidwalker Line." They left the infirmary, stepping into the warm air of the druidic settlement, and walked toward a heavily warded command tent at the village's edge. The air around the canvas structure hummed with power that even his glasses had trouble parsing, a clear sign that Seraphina had cast the wards. As Orion stepped through the flap, the temperature plummeted. The tent's interior was vast, expanded by spatial magic.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. In the center stood the High Priestess. She wore sapphire robes that drifted with phantom constellations, and her face was hidden behind a silver lace veil. Surrounding her in a wide, imposing circle were ten floating panes of polished obsidian glass. They were divination mirrors of the highest order, broadcasting the true leaders of the Cyril Magocracy from their respective strongholds.

Names were etched on the bottoms of the mirrors, revealing their occupants. Reflected in the mirror directly opposite the entrance was Archmage Antares, his father, looking troubled yet commanding as the Speaker of the High Council. Mallon certainly chose the right moment to dip. This is the worst crisis Cyril has faced since its founding, and it's been entrusted to a young Archmage to see us through it. Of course, Antares was not helpless.

Orion had witnessed firsthand the might he could bring to bear and the intelligence shining in his eyes, but those things still didn't make waging war any easier, and he suspected wrangling the faction leaders was even harder. To Antares' left was Cassian Auric, the Golden Regent of the Crimson Wheel, swirling a glass of crimson wine, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Beside him was the face of Zeon Silverhand, Grandmaster of the Radiant Vigil, radiating stern authority in his gleaming armor.

Orion's eyes swept across the remaining mirrors, finally seeing the faces of the monsters behind the Magocracy. The Death King of the Ebony Gauntlet sat upon a throne of dark stone, his skeletal form draped in regal finery, with emerald soul-fire blazing in his empty eye sockets. In the next mirror lounged Esmeranth Zaulthes, the Night King.

The vampire lord was impossibly pale and handsome, flashing a brilliant smile that seemed entirely too kind for a creature of the dark and had probably led countless to enter his service. The Guildmaster General of the Adventurer's Guild caught Orion's eye and flashed a spirited grin, so different from the oppressive tension in the room. Beside him, Lord Xanthurtath of the Dragonspire Dominion loomed, his draconic horns sweeping back from a face of arrogant perfection, his slit pupils fixed on the other leaders.

The High Druid, a man who looked more bark and plant than flesh, muttered to himself in his mirror, visibly distressed. Likely the assault on the Heartwood had left him that way, though Orion would have liked to know where he'd been while they fought. They certainly could have used someone like him. Amarillis, the ageless Prince of the Greenwood Enclave, watched with serene eyes. Finally, Captain General Zusamin of the Leviathan Watch stood at attention, with armor adorned with sea pearls and a stern expression.

"The Adamantine Forge isn't here?" he asked sotto voce, and his mother shook her head.

"Their King was called to battle, and the princes were either too young or too dead to take his place. Their Assembly of Elders will be informed after this is over." That meant they wouldn't have input in the decision-making, but given that the dwarves made a point of keeping themselves separate from all other factions as much as possible, they likely had no one to speak for them. Orion approached when Seraphina motioned for him to join her, feeling small despite his recent advancements.

Silently, Asteria slipped out of the room. He knew she wanted to be there with him, but she hadn't been asked for, and the High Council wouldn't be tested.

"The Council acknowledges the presence of Orion Voidwalker," Antares intoned in a formal tone. He looked at Orion, betraying no familial warmth, only the cold duty of his office.

"We have convened to address the escalation in the Ironwood. Captain General Zusamin, your report states that your forces took a northeastern base."

"We finally broke through their defenses," Zusamin reported with a grunt.

"We recovered the territory they took from us, but we cannot advance. The damn Alchemist dropped into the field, obliterated one of my units, and effectively paralyzed our movements. We cannot march further knowing he might pop up out of nowhere again." She looked pained by the admission, but several others nodded as if it were expected, and Orion realized they all considered her too weak to stand up to Uther. She's probably tier four, then.

What madness to consider such a monster weak, but when your enemy can rewrite reality like a god, even she might seem powerless.

"An abomination, one and all," the Death King hissed. His voice was cold and without inflection, yet Orion sensed genuine anger.

"The Iron State builds soulless husks and defiles the natural order. They must be eradicated, root and branch."

"For once, the corpse speaks the truth," Amarillis agreed smoothly, the elven prince folding his hands beneath his chin.

"Machines hold no place in nature, and no respect for the Order. If they are allowed to poison Cyril's mana, forests will wither, and even graveyards will turn to dust. We must stop them as soon as possible."

"Eradication will require greater commitment of forces," Cassian mused, taking a slow sip of wine.

"We are speaking of an entity that forced the High Priestess to take the field, after all. Any conventional assault would be a waste of coin and men."

"It hurts to agree with the merchant," Zeon Silverhand grunted.

"But it is the truth. The enemy has abandoned any pretense of civility, even breaking the unspoken rules of warfare passed down through the millennia. We must respond in kind." That was probably unexpected, given how everyone's expressions stiffened into cold masks. They were all too canny to show surprise, but the suddenness of their shuttering was still enough for Orion to read. Given the paladins' reputation for righteousness, even when it leads to their deaths, yes, it's quite surprising.

But I guess the cause is just too great now. It's not about a single glorious death. We're talking about the possible destruction of Cyril here.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Silverhand," Esmeranth Zaulthes chuckled, baring his fangs in a lazy smile.

"I knew you'd come around to seeing things my way, sooner or later. My invitation to join my bed is always open if you've decided to change your mind about more things." Before the meeting could descend into bickering, Antares intervened.

"Enough! We all agree that a change in strategy is necessary, especially to deal with this Uther!" he thundered, bringing things back under control. From the pleased expression on the vampire's face, it was clear that eliciting such a reaction had been its intention from the start, likely to test the new Speaker's boundaries.

"Which brings us to the boy," Xanthurtath rumbled, his voice vibrating the glass of his mirror. The dragon prince leaned forward, pinning Orion with a predatory stare.

"The High Priestess claims you spoke with this Alchemist and learned of his methods. Speak, little human. What manner of magic does he wield?" Seraphina did not look at Orion, but she gave a slight, permissive nod. Orion took a steadying breath, recalling his mother's advice. Clear. Concise. No unnecessary theories.

"He does not wield magic as Cyril understands it, my Lords," he began, preparing to skirt the truth about his own magic as much as possible while still giving Cyril the Knowledge it needed to face Uther.