Chương 203: 5.2 Doorbell

Staring at the bottomless lake surrounding Abonisle was both fascinating and disturbing. Irwyn had at first been worried that staring into it could even be dangerous, though Elizabeth assured him that it would be fine. Unless he spotted another dragon or some such being just crawling out, in which case they would have bigger problems than observing it. Therefore, Irwyn got to experience a much diminished version of the existential dread of travelling through the Void.

Much like just looking at blood and viscera from a distance was a lot less nauseating than being completely enveloped in the smell. It was still very unpleasant and probably ill-advised to continue doing for too long, but relatively fine. Which gave him the leeway to notice the deeper strangeness of it. Very much unlike his diving experiences. Namely, how twisted the Void seemed to be across the city.

No matter where in the bottomless lake Irwyn tried to look, literally every angle and direction revealed to him the exact same image. Not just generic sheer blackness, but rather a specific place. Or at least one facet of it. It still looked pitch black, but Irwyn could tell that everywhere he glanced led there. Like ten thousand identical paintings. No matter where he stared, it was always that one scenery.

Even if he struggled to identify it by sight alone, Irwyn could put things together from what he already knew.

"Is that… the Dredge?" he recalled the name.

"Presumably," Elizabeth nodded.

"The enchantments on it are quite something, since it literally forces anything crawling out of the Void in the entire region to be redirected inside its bowels. Or outright blocks that passage, depending on the configuration. I once overheard it had been more expensive to build than any one of the three Spires."

"Would it stop even you?" Desir inquired with apparent curiosity.

"Most definitely even me," she nodded.

"A Domain dedicated to slipping through the Void might be able to barely get someone through - with decades of experience in using it. And only while it's just running idly like now. At the highest levels of empowerment, the Dredge could stop even my father for several hours at a price. As has the undead attack shown. The resources plundered to maintain that effect throughout the siege have probably cost the Duchy more than all the lost property combined."

"That just seems like an overkill," Desir pointed out.

"Especially given how it had been turned against the Duchy."

"An oversight that I am sure has already been solved or at least accounted for," Elizabeth shrugged.

"The reason it has that much power is, so that if there is another dragon rising from the Void it can't wipe out the whole city. Even if it's held back for just a few minutes, that is enough time to set up an ambush and mobilize the forces needed to deal with one - with the Temporal Beacon active, teleporting them here is practically free. Or any lesser monster for that matter. You would be surprised how profitable the Dredge actually is.

Most days it serves as a slaughterhouse for haphazard imbuement creatures not smart enough to avoid certain death on this side, but sometimes it fishes out genuine treasures."

"I think someone has noticed us skulking," Alice interrupted the conversation. They were standing on a hill overlooking the Northern bridge. Those had not greatly changed, though the checkpoints at both ends seemed to have been assigned more people. Stronger as well - the inner checkpoint even had a Void mage with a single Concept, which was significant for guard duty. Said extra personnel was also slowly gathering to stare at them with somewhat nervous expressions.

"Waylan, stay close," Elizabeth commanded.

"I expect their protocols against anything invisible sneaking into the city are going to be rather indiscriminate."

"Aye," the sneak answered, not bothering to even appear. Then they walked back down to the road, quickly reaching the outer checkpoint. There they were surprisingly not asked any questions by the strangely nervous military men and women. Four mages somewhere in the middle of imbuement and four times as many regular soldiers. But instead of stopping the group of four, they were just waved through.

"I think they were instructed to let us walk in unopposed," Desir commented as they began to walk down the bridge.

"Some kind of communication link connects them with the city. Though I don't think I am good enough to tap into it without disrupting the magic altogether."

"Strange," Elizabeth nodded.

"Almost like they are preparing to attack us."

"Maybe just helpful paranoia," Irwyn hypothesized.

"I don't believe they actually expect all that many people returning to the Federation from the North."

"So the assumption is that we could be undead," Elizabeth realized.

"Very suboptimal to approach like this if we were. But that is exactly why the Rot occasionally tries to catch people off-guard with such outwardly stupid methods."

"They will probably be much more careful about everything," Irwyn said.

"Even to a noble lady like the one with us?" Desir gestured towards Elizabeth.

"I will have us through in a few minutes." She just rolled her eyes.

"Hard to tell, actually." Irwyn was not as optimistic.

"None of us have seen if those privileges stay during the last Lich War. Not to mention…"

"Approaching," Elizabeth interrupted him to state the obvious - so probably on purpose. Well, he wouldn't ruin her fun then. There was an incredibly pale soldier coming towards them from the inner checkpoint. Had there been any of that characteristic stench, Irwyn would have thought them undead rather than just fearful. Was such a strong reaction really warranted? Well, perhaps. Irwyn had certainly rarely been happy in the presence of a stranger that could kill him with a thought.

Either way, those were just idle musings. And, as the soldier stutteringly explained, they had an interview in front of them. Senior mage Verg was suddenly having a very bad day. Usually, the Northern entrance was the post everyone fought over. Slacker's bridge, as it was often dubbed by the soldiers, on account of nothing ever happening there. Same for the other three, in all honesty.

With the Temporal Beacon - not to be mistaken with those others that had sounded recently, as his underlings somehow often did - most travel in and out of Abonisle went by the way of teleportation. But the Northern had far fewer desperate vagrants, nor any cheap peddlers that couldn't afford bulk teleportation for their goods. The group approaching him was clearly neither of those.

Just a band of four Conception mages arriving unannounced was worrying, because the military had to assume that anyone unidentified could be undead. Undoubtedly, the city was already searching to see if this could be a distraction of some kind, meant to enable a different plot by the Rot. But there was something more Verg could not put a word to. A gut feeling making his hair stand on end. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Which he had already reported. And would hopefully bring him reinforcements soon. Because his guests were already nearing the end of the bridge, making that terrible feeling stronger with each step. But still, he would maintain the guise of civility as long as the other side did. One of his subordinates was doing as instructed, bringing the lot of them in for an entrance interview in the adjacent building. Conducted by Verg himself. How he hated that.

Soon enough, all four of them entered the gatehouse's humble office. So humble that it had no arrays that would even slow down a competent Conception mage. Those had not been a priority with the outer city only halfway through rebuilding. Still, he had a duty as a senior mage, so he did not outwardly flinch as the bad feeling redoubled as soon as his company was in the same room as him. The first thing he finally noticed was the source of that dread. It was, somehow, his Concept.

Void - the obvious and optimal choice for anyone's first - was trembling. The carving itself was seemingly experiencing some kind of instinctual fear, which was then projected into the Soul it had been etched into. Which was absolutely ridiculous. Verg had never so much as heard of such a thing. Therefore, he was likely mistaken, possibly under illusion or minor manipulation. The second and just as worrying observation was that those four in front of him were simply impossibly young.

Not one seemed above 20, yet each bore a Concept. Most of them blatantly more than one, though the exact number they managed to conceal from him. One such person at that age would make him frown with doubt. All of them? Stretching credulity even outside wartime. It just did not fit. So he kept using his obvious, intentionally easy-to-intercept, line of communication to 'assure' his superiors that everything was fine. Meanwhile, he triggered a second, thoroughly concealed, message to indicate the opposite.

To maximize the efficiency of those enchantments, all they could relay was that something was 'wrong', but not quite escalated yet. The senior mage really hoped those reinforcements were on their way.

"Please, take a seat," he managed to feign calm, gesturing towards the chairs. All two of them. Verg suppressed another flinch over the oversight. By protocol, such a group should have been separated and interrogated individually if there was a remotely valid reason to be suspicious of them. But that had seemed to run too high of a risk of provoking the lot of them, hence the divergence.

Before the senior mage could figure out a way to play his mistake off, two chairs of pure solid flame appeared besides the already present furniture. He had felt no mana. Even for something so simple, there should have been something. Verg kept sending his modified stream of thought to his superiors, underlining it with another 'wrong' from the secondary line. He could feel no mana rising to tap into the messages, but that was clearly no reason to believe there actually wasn't any tampering.

Hopefully, the hidden system would hold.

"As you might expect, I am mandated to inquire about your business in the city," he pushed through and quietly hoped no offense had been taken. None that would matter, at least.

"You can imagine we have few visitors coming the way you have."

"We have returned from a journey, as the Beacons demanded," the lady in a black dress explained. Were her clothes made of pure magic, despite giving off no such feeling? And those facial features were definitely too symmetrical and flawless to be natural. Though, a more worrying thought was quickly becoming apparent.

"I see, though admittedly we have not been expecting anyone," Verg nodded, and pretended to note something down on a piece of paper, meanwhile sending another message of 'wrong' to his superiors. Two of them, actually. That was the only recourse, as the next 'message' the system allowed after that required ongoing violence. Which would probably be coming soon. The mage always stationed at the mountain crossing would have sent a word ahead if their story was true. Such a blatant lie was almost strange.

But then, that is what the Rot did to catch people unprepared.

"It is somewhat obvious when you write nothing down," a new voice interjected. Verg looked up with a jerk, noting the unbelievably handsome man with piercing blue eyes.

"It doesn't help that you scribbled over a crossword." How he had not properly noticed someone like that earlier was a testament to Verg's rising dread. He could not afford to dwell on appearances, given the situation. He at least also noted the other man, golden-eyed, was actually likewise attractive, though not quite as much as the first. The senior mage refocused on the actually urgent situation before him.

"The right paperwork was not on hand," he improvised an excuse.

"I am told it is reassuring if it seems like I am taking notes, even if my own memory is sufficient. Though it is rather embarrassing to be called out as so."

"You are a surprisingly competent liar." The brown-eyed man chuckled. Weren't they a different color just a moment ago?

"I dread what might have given you that impression." No time to dwell on it.

"The lies tend to do that." The golden-eyed man interjected.

"We have gotten somewhat off track…"

"As ever." The woman in black also interrupted with a sigh.

"But as you surely understand, security has to reflect the current times. Arranging an entrance for such powerful mages like yourselves is no simple matter. Though there are naturally several options. I could contact…"

"20 people just teleported in to surround us." The other woman, who had been quiet so far, interjected.

"Only eight or so with Concepts, none with more than two." The golden-eyed young man shrugged. Not a hint of fear apparent. Verg somehow began to sweat even harder than before.

"They even set up an eavesdropping funnel," she added.

"Should I block it?"

"Leave it for now. The obvious internal panic was one thing, but such overt hostility is downright insulting," the lady in black spoke with a frown. But likewise, no fear.

"Even during a Lich War, this type of conduct is unbecoming of trained soldiers."

"It is completely reasonable from their point of view. Do you know why it seems so strange from your perspective? I thought you were doing it on purpose at first," the man with golden eyes replied, a seemingly playful grin on his lips.

"Well?" She nodded, clearly curious.

"You forgot to put on the ring." That seemed to give her pause. There was a moment of silence when she opened her mouth as if to respond, then closed it. A thoughtful expression came and passed, as she reached into the bag attached at her side. A part of Verg wanted to stop her by any means necessary, but in the end it was the fear that prevailed - unwilling to strike the first blow. Then she retrieved a ring, deftly placing it on her finger.

Upon it, the black tower with rampart parapets and windows opening into a gray background. Everyone in the Duchy would recognize it at a glance and know how restricted actually wearing the insignia was. It could still be a forgery. But a damn good one, because every single array and enchantment within the room was instantly recognizing the woman as surpassing the senior mage's own authority over them.

"There seems to have been a misunderstanding. To actually introduce myself, Elizabeth von Blackburg, presumably still within two digits in the line of succession, despite my recent absence. With me a retinue, as is my right." Of course. The casual arrogance suddenly felt very familiar with the new context. Like nigh any noble-born he had ever met, confused the moment even a bit of special treatment was stripped away.

So used to skirting doctrine outside Wartime, it often did not even occur to them why it was suddenly so ironclad. Except there was more to it. Though he did not recognize her right away, pieces quickly assembled in Verg's mind. Because he did recall a rumor about an heiress fleeing North well over a year prior. Even the name sounded vaguely familiar. But that had been called a borderline desertion in disgrace of someone barely a few steps into imbuement.

Someone that could not even be called prodigious among the upper nobility. Especially with her reputation tarnished by rumors that had spread surprisingly widely in hindsight, considering the direct relation to the Duke's own bloodline. The woman in front of him, on the other hand, was blatantly not that rumored coward. Even a single Concept at such a tender age would be a renowned achievement.

He literally recalled the celebration that the firstborn son of House Blackburg had been awarded for carving his first just before nineteen years of age. The lady before him looked like she could feasibly be even younger than that and yet obviously held more. Age could perhaps be deceiving, but there was one other thing. Verg's Concept was still quivering in fear, which suddenly felt a lot less like an illusion and much more like the ludicrousness of their ducal House.

Every Void mage had heard the legends of Ezax von Blackburg ruling over the element so firmly that spells from his enemies refused to even strike him. Refused even being cast to oppose the man. So, his daughter could achieve something similar. Could the senior mage actually even attack her in his current state? He sincerely hoped that it was indeed her and not some mad shapeshifting abomination. Either way, that was going to be out of Verg's hands in a few minutes.

Someone much more important than a senior mage was inevitably going to check in person. Given the circumstances, they were probably already on their way.