Chương 41: 40. Treatment

Tavian examined the system notification curiously. ⬣ New Perk: Mandate (passive) ⬣ ⬣ The word of a [Ruler] is law, within his domain. Direct commands to your subjects carry the weight of law. ⬣"Lea," Tavian said, and she appeared beside him.

"I just got the Mandate Perk. Does it mean… Does it mean that nobody can disobey me?" Lea's brow creased.

"Let me check… No. They can still disobey you. They just won't question your authority. People disobey rightful rulers all the time."

"What did I do to earn this? Lie to everyone?"

"You navigated a very difficult political situation and held your kingdom together. The core doesn't make moral judgements. It responds to your actions as a leader." Tavian nodded. He walked down the steps of the throne room, and found a guard at the door. He recognized him as one of the Captains, who had hesitated when he'd ordered them back to their posts.

"Walk with me," he ordered. The man snapped a salute and fell in crisply with Tavian. He didn't look to anyone else for confirmation.

"See to it that any surviving priest that seeks refuge is admitted to the fortress, and treated as a guest," Tavian said.

"Of course, sir," the man said. He ran off to relay the orders. Tavian continued down the corridor alone. His mind turned to his wound, and he checked the spread of miasma from his wound. Calli's earlier round of treatments had greatly reduced the spread, but it had begun spreading again. It threatened to creep back up his neck and down his arm. He had a headache too, now, and shadows appeared to run across the hall in front of him. Footsteps echoed in the hall behind him, in sync with his own.

Tavian turned to see who it was, but there was nobody there. Probably just his own. Maybe Valliroth had been right. Maybe the miasma was affecting him more than he realized. Why had he put it off for so long? Had he really been too busy? So, he went in search of Calli. He would have all the miasma extracted. Then what would Valliroth have against him? He found his sister working in the kitchen. She was sweating over a bubbling pot of something mysterious. A blackened loaf of bread smoked on the counter.

"What are you doing in here?" Tavian asked.

"You don't know how to cook."

"Oh," Calli said, looking startled.

"Well… I was hungry, and nobody was here, so I took matters into my own hands." Tavian rapped his knuckles on the bread.

"What did you put in this, stones?" Calli turned on him, lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

"I'd like to see you do better."

"No chance," Tavian said with a chuckle.

"I'm a prince, not a cook." Calli cocked an eyebrow.

"Still a prince? I thought once you ruled a kingdom they made you a king."

"I guess," Tavian conceded.

"Feels wrong to call myself that without a crown. Or a throne. Or an actual kingdom outside this fortress."

"Oh," Calli said.

"I think I might still have a little silver tiara in my room. You can wear it, if that would make you feel better." Tavian rolled his eyes.

"Are you withholding things from Vanal? We're tight on stuff to sift."

"I know," Calli said, "I gave him everything else. I saved the tiara just for you." Tavian sniffed at the stew pot, then recoiled.

"Where are all the cooks?"

"I think you've recruited them all to guard the walls," Calli said. Tavian grimaced.

"So you're cooking now?" he asked.

"How are the provisions?"

"Running low, as always," she said.

"Hungry?" Tavian hesitated, and she slopped a scoop of her soup into a bowl, then sliced a bit of burnt bread for him. Tavian had a taste of her concoction, then dropped the spoon back in the bowl. He discreetly spat the liquid out while her back was turned.

"Calli, you look exhausted," he said.

"You need to get more rest. You shouldn't be cooking, there are other people who can do that."

"I'm just trying to help," she said.

"Maybe go find a cook guarding the walls and switch with them?" Calli ignored him.

"There's something you can help me with," Tavian said.

"How is the miasma extraction going?"

"I've treated everyone with a miasmic wound," Calli said. She tasted her soup, blanched, and added a few random pinches of spice to it. She crossed the room and picked up a large leather sack, and brought it over to Tavian. He opened it up and pulled out four miasmic daggers, each blade bound in cloth, and then the miasmic condenser. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Careful of the spikes," Calli said.

"I used a few parts from the other spell modules to enhance the channels, and it works faster now, without burning out." The glass orb in the center of the condenser swirled with a violent black storm of miasma.

"The daggers?"

"I've been using them for testing," Calli said.

"They have a higher concentration of miasma than any of the treasures from the vault. So far there doesn't seem to be a limit of how much we can condense into that glass sphere." She unwrapped one of the daggers.

"This one's nearly drained," she said.

"Watch." Calli tapped the blade against a knot of spines at the top of the condenser. Black mists flared around the blade, swirled into small vortexes which were sucked into the dark spikes surrounding the glass sphere. The storm within seemed to gain strength. Tavian's miasmic wound ached in unison with the waves of the pulsing storm. His head throbbed, and the room darkened. The miasma in the orb seemed drawn to him.

"Good," Tavian said.

"We can use this to purify the treasures from the vault that we weren't able to sift. We can give it to Vanal, and—""Vanal can't use it," Calli said.

"He doesn't have the coresmith spark to activate the channels."

"Then you'll have to do it," Tavian said. He lifted his tunic, and Calli nodded.

"Give me a second, and we'll get you patched right up." She started fiddling with the miasma extractor.

"Valliroth accused me of being controlled by the dark," Tavian said.

"He thinks the miasma in the wound is taking over."

"It is spreading," Calli said.

"Do you feel it affecting your mind?"

"I don't know," Tavian said.

"I mean, I have a bit of a headache." And visions. But he was aware of those; he knew they were visions. She pressed the condenser to Tavian's side. Miasma clouded over his skin and began flowing into the device. Water dripped down onto Tavian's head, wetting his hair. It accumulated into droplets, and trickled down his spine. He was thirsty. He turned his head, letting the water drip into his mouth. It tasted foul, but soothed his dry tongue. He had to keep moving, or else she would find him.

Tavian snapped back to awareness. He touched his hair, and found it dry. The miasma spreading through his flesh from the wound had reduced. The miasma condenser sat on the table nearby, and Calli was rummaging in a chest.

"Are you well?" Calli asked.

"You went a little strange for a second there."

"I'm fine," Tavian said, the taste of brackish water still in his mouth.

"Aha!" Calli said, producing a handful of clean rags. Blood dripped from Tavian's wound onto the floor. His boosted constitution did not seem to be able to heal the wound as long as it was infected with miasma. At that moment Shona burst into the kitchen. Her face was ruddy, and her eyes were wide with astonishment.

"What are you doing in my kitchen?" she exclaimed. She'd found a new blouse somewhere. Calli jumped, as Shona held her nose and waved her hand in front of her face.

"It smells awful in here!" she declared. Shona crossed to Calli's bubbling pot and sampled it. She shuddered, spat her mouthful out on the floor, and wailed.

"A crime against life itself!"

"It just need to simmer a little longer," Calli protested, moving to protect her brew.

"Shona, stop! Add some more salt if it needs it…"

"By Ishtoran," Shona said, looking at Tavian.

"You look awful! Calli, tell me you didn't try to feed him some of this!"

"Shona, no," Calli said.

"We can't waste it, it can be salvaged!" Shona was not listening. She gently pushed Calli aside, then grabbed the pot and hauled it out of the room.

"Not fit for pig swill," Shona announced.

"Couldn't even sift this disaster." Calli watched her, hands on her hips.

"It wasn't that bad," she said. Tavian smirked.

"Maybe you should stick to coresmithing for the time being, Calli," he said.

"Look here, you," she said.

"I made that food for you. At least be grateful." She returned to his side, pressing one of the rags to his bleeding injury.

"I already survived an attempt to poison me this week, thank you very much," Tavian said. Calli began mopping up the blood on the floor.

"I forgot that your wound was still so bad," she said.

"Should have had some bandages ready." Shona returned a moment later with an empty pot and began bustling around the kitchen.

"The larders are bare, but we can still fix up a little something," she said.

"What are you doing, Shona?" Tavian asked. She turned on him with a frightening speed.

"Well," she said, large hands gesturing aggressively.

"You fired me as a battlemage, so I'm getting back to what I know best. Oh, and I was looking for you. The girls are having a hard time deciding on who's going to be in charge of them, so you might want to figure that out."

"You, Shona," Tavian said.

"I still want you to lead them. When did I strip you of command?"

"You took my class," she said.

"I thought—""You don't need to be able to shoot elemental darts to lead," Tavian said.

"Besides, I thought you had a bow?" Shona nodded, slowly accepting the words. She seemed slightly taken aback.

"Fine," she said.

"I'll do it. But first I'm going to make a proper meal for you." And she got back to work. Calli finished cleaning, and returned to the condenser, tinkering with it and preparing for another activation.

"I wish we had a bit more influence around here," Shona announced.

"The fire feels so hot without it."

"We're keeping it low intentionally," Tavian said.

"We keep losing tiles to the dungeon, but they're automatically reclaimed due to encirclement. A 1. 1 influence tile flipping loses us 1. 1 Essence. If we pushed up to two or three, we'd lose that much more Essence each time. Unless we can get up to five, or even seven, to prevent the flipping entirely…" he trailed off, seeing that Shona did not care.

"Doesn't change things for me though, does it?" Shona asked with a sigh.

"I just want things to be a little easier, you know?"

"The point is, until we can get enough to sift to lift our influence a lot higher, it's better to keep the level low, and just replace what we lose."

"What happened with Braun?" Calli asked.

"Someone said that you put him in the tower."

"I did," Tavian said.

"I had to. He disobeyed a direct order and I had to make an example of him."

"Made an example of me too," Shona exclaimed.

"And it bloody hurt."

"What? Why?" Tavian explained briefly what he had done.

"Oh," Calli said.

"You kidnapped Anella?"

"And Valliroth," Tavian said.

"He's not happy about it."

"I wouldn't be either. They've dedicated their whole lives to that place, and you just let it all burn down." He didn't mention that he'd actually taken part in the burning.

"I was saving their lives," Tavian said.

"Is Braun going to manage?" Calli asked.

"I think so," Tavian said.

"He understood what I was trying to do, I think."

"When are you going to let him out?"

"When I'm reasonably sure that Anella isn't going to try to murder him."

"I see," Calli said, hefting the condenser.

"Ready?" Tavian nodded, and she brought the device back to his side. He scratched at a scab on his arm. Black, miasmic puss oozed from it. He sat huddled in a dark corner, hoping that he would remain unnoticed. A distant light flickered, occasionally casting massive shadows on the wall. There was something there, near that unearthly light. He should leave it behind. Abandon it; and the danger he represented. But it was light. And to abandon it meant more darkness. He needed to tell Tavian. The relic.

It was in there. With… with Her. Something tugged in his gut. A gnawing pain of hunger, an urge to explore deeper. He wished he hadn't lost his sword. Tavian would come for him. He wouldn't be abandoned to the dark. He looked down at his belt, and adjusted it, pulling it a notch tighter. The empty scabbard at his hip taunted him. There were too many enemies in the darkness. Too many monstrosities, that wouldn't grant him the mercy of a quick death. And the voice. Always the voice. Calling him. Taunting him.

Urging him deeper. She wouldn't get him. He would never go to her. Tavian, please. Help me.