Chương 8: 1.7 The ink of arrogance

Irwyn lay on his bed the next morning, the book lying in front of him. The nature of the Named, by Magelord Viriterus von Lonera, the title read. Last night Irwyn had dived into his lexicon of noble households and found something fascinating: The house of Lonera was founded only some 35 years ago by Magelord Viriterus, a renowned Time/Space caster, who had originally been born into a very minor branch of House Blackburg. Then, just 2 years later the house had gone extinct with Viriterus' disappearance.

Likely the skeleton Irwyn had found. There was also a note about that having a significant effect on the succession struggles of the main house Blackburg, however, Irwyn's knowledge about that ended with the knowledge that something of the sort happened and that the current duke Blackburg was not known to have any living siblings. Back to the book, Irwyn took a deep breath and opened it. And immediately realised it was unfinished.

The pre-word still had notes on alternative sentences, possible changes to points, and an insult addressed at 'the damn disobedient brat'. It was overall a self-centered rant about how he was acknowledged by even the dukes of Teal and Black, how he was better than his colleagues and how he had always known he had been destined for greatness. Still, Irwyn read it with interest because it gave him insight into the mind of the dead caster. Moreover, the last paragraph of the page fascinated him.

It read:'And as such, I have naturally come upon the great divide of claiming a Name of my own. To find even faster the path upon the very apex of magic, I shall document upon the nature of the Edict wielders, be it the Named of ages past, present or soon to be myself.' Just the idea of the very apex of magic or at least what some would consider as such. Irwyn felt the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach as he turned the page.

'To claim a Name is to become one with both it and magic. It is also why this leap is the great divide, because a Name can only be claimed by a creature of pure magic while a creature of pure magic can only exist if a Name sustains them. In other words, one must tear both their body and soul apart either at the same time or one after another to successfully ascend. Of course, once a Name is claimed the bearer achieves nigh immortality.

Age does not decay those no more of flesh, they become avatars of the concepts they have polished beyond equal.' What is the difference between a concept and an intention in magic? Irwyn thought. Were they synonymous? Irwyn had, after all, decided by himself to call what he imbued into magic intention. Perhaps they might be one and the same. Or perhaps concepts were higher, something more potent than the intentions stemming from fear or desire.

Either way, he read on, talks of immortality too far beyond what he could imagine for himself to ponder at the moment.

'Throughout history many have claimed names. Who at our circles had not heard of the infamous Soul-catcher or the Archduke of Red? Even still, records from before the founding of our 9 Duchy Federation are scarce as the Tyrant's library had been burned to the ground as he had been overthrown. And make no mistake, for it was no mere tyrant but The Tyrant who the first 9 dukes challenged and overcame. And true legends they were. Conflagration, Thousandsight, Temperance, Twinpresence and most importantly Wrath.

Or as he had later become known, the Duke of Wrath! Albeit my distant ancestor had perished in a great Lich war eternities ago, his influence and tradition have never left. For example, to this day the firstborn son of the second wife among the main Blackburg bloodline serves as the high general, as it had been with the first duke's own children. Or the first son of the fourth wife becoming a dedicated scholar…'

The rest of the page was mostly filled with a description of the surprisingly stringent roles each child of the house Blackburg was obliged to follow precisely. Not to mention going off-topic, the information was clearly outdated as the current duke had vehemently refused any wife beyond his first. Good for her ladyship Avys, Irwyn supposed, the stringent roles seemed to him a bit dumb.

What happens if the firstborn son of the 4th wife is neither naturally scholarly nor celibate or if the first daughter of the third is less than chaste by the age of 18? Maybe the rigorous rules were just exaggerated by the writing, or perhaps the born and bred Magelord lines simply did not think along the same lines as the common folk. Turning the page there was an illustration and Irwyn nearly dropped the book.

Seemingly they were just an array of squiggly and straight lines or shapes, not immediately reminiscent of anything. Yet that was just the surface as Irwyn felt it whisper to him of rage and fury. Of Wrath. It was the frown of an eye before a rampage. It was all that would be before a silence of a wake, as empty as the void itself. All that stains must be ground to nothing. It took Irwyn several minutes to break away from that magical state of just helplessly staring at the lines. Then he hungrily read on.

'A more keen reader would have noticed the supernatural sensation caused by the mark of Wrath. A truly keen one would already understand its nature fully. But I shall enlighten the rest as well. What you might or might not have experienced was no illusion, nay, it was the antithesis of a lie. Though it requires the enchantments of this book to remain, it takes no power nor borrows any spellwork. It is simply the written manifestation of what the Duke of Wrath had once stood for.

As long as the name of Wrath exists, and like all names it shall exist forever, a universal meaning will remain for its symbol. It is a Truth that my ancestor had found. And as long as no new claimant takes and reshapes the name Wrath, this symbol will maintain a smidgen of its power even if written into the dirt with a pebble.' If that were the case, do the Aspects also have marks like this? Surely it must be so, after all, just Ignis' name held the barest hint of something when spoken or thought about.

Moreover, such marks may perhaps not be affected by Irwyn's writing problem.

'As a Named being, the Duke had naturally attained the insurmountable power of Edicts. In the final confrontation with the Tyrant he had brought down an Edict of Wrath, which has contributed to the regrettable formation of the Scar on our lands.' Irwyn put down the book at this point and went looking for a different one, thinking of the edicts in the meantime. It was difficult to quantify besides clearly being some sort of powerful magic; Irwyn had next to no reference frame after all.

He had no idea how or even if magic was classified by the wider society of casters as the recent incidents were the most he had ever interacted with any. All he could do was keep in mind that running from someone casting an 'edict' would be a good idea. It didn't take him long to find the new book he was looking for, titled 'The landmarks of the Black duchy'. Unfortunately, the table of contents did not have the 'Scar', albeit Irwyn was sure he had definitely read about it somewhere before.

Next, he looked for 'The 9 duchy Federation; a traveller's guide' where he found a short description along the section of places to avoid.

'The Scar is an artefact of a great battle from before the federation's forming. It spans a part of a mountain range in the Northern region of the Duchy of White (close to the cartographical centre of the federation). The area is affected by a perpetual magical turbulence. The boundaries of space are frail, causing monsters (and rarely also people) to constantly arrive from other realms, making it a major source of rare alchemical and magical items despite the great danger.

Most lich wars (including the most recent one) have been caused by a greater lich infecting through this area. The Scar is considered impossible to remove by intervention and is surrounded by a military blockade supplied by all 9 Duchies. It is believed to be shrinking. The Everburn Isthmus is technically not a part of the Federa…' This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Irwyn pulled himself away from reading further.

He could refresh himself on places to avoid he would probably never come close to later. The tourist guide didn't specify that the 'great battle' was supposedly one that allowed for the federation's founding, however, Irwyn was inclined to believe that the Magelord who had decided to pay much more focus to this would know better. It also put more perspective on the power of these edicts if their effects could last for centuries. He returned to the 'Nature of the Named' and double-checked the language used.

Yes, indeed, it was 'contributed to the creation of the Scar'. In other words, it was more than just one such spell. Maybe something related to Space/Time or Realm/Matter considering things from somewhere else kept appearing there, supposedly. Either way, he read on. The rest of the two pages involved a retelling of the Duke of Wrath's life after those battles; very little about his involvement in the federation's founding but a lot about the traditions he has introduced in his domain.

He had then died some 200 years later in a great lich war. Irwyn noted that the Duke of Wrath had never been referenced by any birth name or a nickname of any sort as he turned the next page. There he found another mark. It was fire but not quite. It was the in-between of ignition and ash. There was only burning, no before nor after. For all things may burn. The Flame would never be extinguished, as long as the Name that is Ignis remained, so would this one incinerate ad infinitum.

Even with his limited knowledge, Irwyn understood that whoever this mark belonged to had been far more in tune with the concepts involved, going so far as to tap into the Name of The-flame-that-is-origin. Or it could just be that Irwyn was simply able to feel such connections much better because of his own affinity: His Light was the antithesis of the Void where the 7 sins, Wrath included, stemmed from; flame on the other hand was an irreplaceable part of Irwyn.

'The Archduke of Red, the Conflagration. To this day remnants still burn the Scar from the Edict of Conflagration he had called against the Tyrant. Unlike my ancestor a far calmer man vital to the Federations founding, often even credited with the very idea…' Irwyn wanted to continue reading but most of the two pages were actually empty and that was where the coherent storytelling ended.

After was just a note reading 'Request sent to the Flame's archive for their preserved sources and an interview, write a note to check your mail', leaving most of the writing space just empty. Turning the page, Irwyn found even more stubs and comments.

'How do you 'misplace' the records of Twinpresence's mark?' read the first one, followed by a completely empty double-page. Next one read 'To do: Write a derogatory leaked letter about the Duke of White being an overly paranoid asshead with no regard for history', and then one more double-page with 'If we weren't in this damn cold war with the Brightbeaks I wouldn't need this many proxies and expense just to get a god damn historical symbol.'

Apparently, Magelord Viriterus had intended to finish writing these sections once he had obtained the marks of these particular Named which he clearly never did. Irwyn felt a bit grumpy about that. The next page at least immediately returned his good mood. The mark was of dual nature to Irwyn's surprise, it was both seeking and taking away. It was the thrill of pursuit as well as the rapture of capture fulfilled. It was both action and consequence. What that meant unfortunately Irwyn wouldn't get to know.

All the page read was 'The Soulcatcher is, as far as I could find, the only Named to arise without a direct bloodline or backing of the Duke houses. Because of that information on him is scarce.' what followed was a tirade of notes mentioning libraries, census data and other statistics from all across the federation as far as Irwyn could tell.

Apparently the 'scarceness of information' was not an underestimation as the author had insisted in the notes that he was not going to stop before figuring out where a damn Named was even born. The next two pages were completely empty. And so were the next. Irwyn kept flipping through the thick book but there was nothing else to find. Whatever sources, reference materials or other pieces of research data were in use, they had clearly not survived the test of time and magical fallout like this enchanted book had.

All that he had was an unfinished book of a long-dead magelord. Irwyn put the book away and tried to lie away the upset in his bed. How much could he have learned if the book was finished? So many secrets so tantalisingly close yet just out of reach. The odds were that he would never get his hands on something like this ever again. The insights of a magelord eager to share at the tip of his fingertips. Each page could have guided him down a different mystery of magic. And. It. Was. Unfinished.

Irwyn turned around and screamed into his pillow. When he calmed down he tried to be at least a bit positive about it. He had 3 marks with incredible and deep meaning to study after all. One even matched his flame perfectly. It might take him months to fully discover what that path hid and even then he would likely return to it for years to come. Still, his foul mood would not go away, turning the next hour into an unproductive mess of churning thoughts.

He was only awoken from that stupor when someone knocked on his door.

"Do you need something?" he asked after getting over to open the door, a hint of irritation still distinct in his voice.

"Geez, chill Irw," the young lady said. It was Olga, probably trying to mimic Waylan or someone else with an attitude. Not like Irwyn cared overmuch about such things; she was a child after all, a few years before her trials. She on the other hand tried to cross her arms and act offended but after a few seconds of Irwyn's intense stare relented, "Aaron wants a word with you about something. He be at his office."

"Thank you I will go see him right away," it was a good distraction. He considered for a moment and then continued.

"Also, please keep in mind we only need exactly 1 Waylan," then he strode past her as she sputtered. Irwyn made his way down the stairs, through the big hall where all the kids played and slept, and into their meeting room that otherwise served as Aaron's office. When he entered Aaron briefly looked up from the paper he was working on, made brief eye contact and then returned to his work. Understanding how busy Aaron undoubtedly was, Irwyn did not mind.

He had to sort through numerous documents written in poor handwriting, balance their budget, note down verbal reports and then occasionally do something extra like Irwyn's request. To be fair, he had some help from some of the other adults but the Old Crow would only step in if things got really dire. It was no secret that the Fowl was essentially grooming Aaron as his successor and believed firmly in a sink or swim philosophy.

"Thank you for waiting, I called you here because of this," Aaron finished the sheet of paper, put it away while taking another one from a different stack, and without wasting any time immediately got to the point.

"Does this look like the flower you found?" it was a drawing of a petalless bloom with striking familiarity, except it was black rather than teal.

"Yes, but it was a different colour," Irwyn nodded.

"I feared it would be so," Aaron sighed.

"Well, we definitely won't be able to fence it. It's called a 'Lordbloom', an exceptionally magical flower that grows only in extremely mana-dense environments with a very specific fertilizer that can change the very nature of each specimen. I suppose you can guess what I mean by the euphemism."

"The corpse of a magelord," Irwyn said. He had suspected that might be the case and the name only confirmed it. After all, why else would it be growing out of the skull?

"How did you safely figure out what it was?"

"Easy," Aaron grinned, always eager to brag. Maybe that was not the best word because Irwyn had to admit Aaron had some excellent ideas.

"I got in touch with the one-handed alchemist from the Other side, I gave him a list of traits, most of which random, and asked him to give me basic information on herbs both magical and mundane that he knew about that had any of the combinations. Though it isn't like a mana beacon or something after transforming right?"

"No, it feels no different than a really weak enchanted item," Irwyn shook his head, "This one in particular is isolated and hard to notice, like the magic of the man it grew from."

"Sure, not like I can tell the difference," Aaron shrugged, "The missive didn't even mention the transformation. Not a big surprise One-hand never actually saw it before retirement if it's something like this. Damn shame we cannot do smack with it."

"Does even Old Crow have no contacts who would buy it from us?" Irwyn raised an eyebrow.

"That's an ultra-premium magical ingredient you got your hands on. You can fence some minor magical stuff for the few casters from the guild at other cities but anyone with the prowess to use this is gonna be a powerful magelord themselves. And then they are gonna ask questions like 'where did street thugs even get this?' and 'Do I really have to pay for it?'. Not worth the risk."

"So what am I even supposed to do with it? It is Time/Space attuned so I cannot really use it myself in any way."

"I don't know. A pretty paperweight?"

"Fine, thank you for at least figuring out what it is," Irwyn sighed.

"I will hold onto it, maybe I can figure out something useful in the future."

"Your welcome."

"You are," Irwyn corrected.

"Well, see you at tomorrow's briefing," and it went right over Aaron's head. Aaron returned to his documents and Irwyn to his room. At least he had the Book of the Name to read now. He had read it many times before, however, he was sure the full edition was going to be an experience to remember.