210 – Ferry

After qualifying, Vivi tracked down Rafael. She knew her Steward was a busy man, but her encounter with Mina obviously needed to be reported. One tidbit in particular deserved relaying.

“Dead?” Rafael asked. “No, I’ve received no news that Vianora passed away, Lady Vivisari. With that said, we aren’t in frequent contact.”

As with everything, he took the announcement in stride, leaning back in his chair with merely a frown. She wondered whether the reaction was callous—but he and the elf might not have had much of a relationship. They’d known each other well enough to make the arrangement, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

“When’s the last time you heard from her?” she asked.

“More than a decade ago.”

That’s definitely a no to the friends thing, she thought. “Is there any way we could reach her? Or confirm or deny her… status?”

“Not easily and not quickly, no.”

“Hm. Then if we take Mina at face value, what do you make of it all?”

Rafael worked his jaw as he considered. “It’s difficult to say without having seen her in person. How she delivered her words, her expressions… it would have told me a lot. She was clearly implying she was responsible, but she sounds like the kind of person who would encourage a misunderstanding.”

Vivi couldn’t disagree there. “At the very least, she knows Vianora.”

“Her face, yes. That’s all we can say for certain.” Rafael drummed his fingers against his desk, brow furrowed in thought.

Vivi took some solace in the fact that nothing had immediately jumped out at him, since she’d more than once been embarrassed by how quickly he could deduce things she’d given a fair amount of consideration to and come up blank on.

“It goes without saying that when both the Sorceress and a Sword Saint sense danger, we should focus our attention on the threat,” Rafael said. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on our participants, and—” He cut off, tilting his head. “What is it?”

Her confusion must have shown.

“Sword Saint?” she asked. “Who?”

She made the connection even as the question was leaving her mouth. There was only one person he could be talking about: Xun. Vivi had clocked the old man as somewhere around Aeris’s strength, and so it didn’t come as a shock—she just hadn’t made the jump to ‘Sword Saint,’ since not all blademasters attained that title. It was significantly more prestigious than even the magical equivalent of ‘archmage.’

“Yxamas Faleryn, of course,” he responded. “The man you’ve been—”

Vivi started in surprise properly this time. “Yxamas Faleryn?” she demanded. “Excuse me?”

Rafael’s lips began twitching in amusement. “You weren’t aware.”

No, she hadn’t been! The Sword Saint revelation had caught her the slightest bit off guard, but only because she hadn’t known yet—it made plenty of sense.

Yxamas Faleryn, though? He wasn’t just a Sword Saint; he was the Sword Saint. Lore about him had been scattered all throughout the game of Seven Cataclysm, but he’d never appeared directly—much like the Primogenitor of demonkind. The man had been one of the major heroes of the previous era, like Osmian.

He was kind of a big deal.

“I knew he was strong, but…” Vivi trailed off, then shook her head. “Wait, how did you figure out who he is?”

“As I said, I’m keeping track of our participants. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Still.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything different from Rafael. He would always have the upper hand over her when it came to the trade of secrets.

Even when I’ve been talking with the man in question every other day? And went out for drinks with him?

She stared down at her lap as she tried sorting through her memories. There’d been plenty of hints that he was strong, but even on careful recollection, she found nothing that would have told her that he was one of the most legendary figures of history.

…his stories had gotten a little fantastical during their drinking session, yes, but not anything she’d chalk up as evidence of that. Much less his exact identity.

“I didn’t even know Yxamas Faleryn was alive,” Vivi said.

“Prior to this week, I would have given it fifty-fifty odds too.”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice. You didn’t answer. How did you know it was him?”

“And tear asunder my shroud of mysterious competence? If my lady insists, I will do as she demands, but it would pain me greatly.”

For the second time that day, Vivi almost rolled her eyes. He wasn’t as bad as Jasper, but even Rafael had a ridiculous side. 

“We’re getting sidetracked,” she said. “Mina.”

He returned to the previous topic seamlessly. “A petite necromancer with a skull painted on her face, high-Titled, likely very high-Titled, wielding a cleaver larger than she is,” he listed off. “Such descriptions are conspicuous.”

“So she’s not a known quantity.”

“No, my lady. I can conjure no matching profile.”

“How does someone that strong slip through the cracks? Titled don’t just pop up out of nowhere.” Even the Selrath-Kyn were known to a certain degree.

“As I’ve discovered numerous times since you’ve returned, my network is not omniscient.” Rafael sounded vexed by the admission. “So it may be as simple as she’s taken care to remain hidden over the years. Furthermore, a cleaver might not be her preferred weapon, necromancy might not be her primary discipline, and her body might not be hers at all—or any shade of obfuscation between.”

“Fair,” Vivi said. She wasn’t cut out for investigative work, because she’d taken Mina’s appearance for granted. That was doubly embarrassing when Vivi herself had been wandering around in a transmogrified body, testing a weapon that wasn’t her primary one, and using an alternate magic discipline. “So we don’t have anything to work with?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve only just been informed of this.” A grimace twisted his face. “That said, I can form no immediate theories. I’ll need to contemplate.”

“I’m only really concerned if she’s part of the Selrath-Kyn.” Pulling out Cinereus’s journal and offering it to him, she said, “You probably memorized this whole thing, but another look might help.”

“My memory is good, but not supernatural,” he remarked, accepting the book and studying the cover. “I’m assuming you poked through as well. Nothing drew your attention?”

“Well,” she started.

He looked up and quirked an eyebrow.

“Sort of,” Vivi said. “Let me explain.”

***

Days passed.

Vivi’s theory on Mina was just that: a supposition, and so while the woman was worth keeping an eye on, nothing warranted immediate intervention. The necromancer didn’t jump out to kidnap anyone, nor did she approach Vivi, Suyin, or Xun over that time period. Intimidation from a distance was the worst it got. Not exactly a model citizen, but hardly an evil monster terrorizing the city.

Not that the Selrath-Kyn would be so obvious.

Vivi qualified for the tournament, and so did Suyin. The disciple even managed to win all five of her matches, though she only went up against orichalcums. Everyone in Vanguard who should have qualified also did, but Derrick—Mae and Jasper’s third party member and their tank—needed to duke it out in the final filtering rounds; it had been a close call.

Vivi continued her research inside the void. In particular, her experiments with divination. Not just the attempts to locate Concepts, but also her previous theory: integrating void magic to penetrate divination-prevention measures. A path to tracking down the Fell Apostate seemed more and more promising, but only as a long-term goal. It would have to wait until after the tournament at the very least.

Before she knew it, it was time to pick up the candidates from the elvish, dwarvish, and demonic territories—an event that had loomed menacingly on the horizon from her perspective, though it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

Shouldn’t being the operative word.

“Elves and dwarves first,” she mumbled to herself. “That’s not so bad.” Demons were the ones she was worried about.

She was tempted to bring Rafael with her to smooth out any mishaps, but dragging along an emotional support Steward would be way too embarrassing even by her standards. She’d been willing to exploit other people’s social prowess in the past, but she couldn’t justify it in this instance, not when the man was spinning a thousand plates already. He didn’t have time to handhold her when the task was as simple as ferrying groups of people across the continent.

She checked the time yet again. She’d been fidgeting in her bedroom for half an hour. Even though the Sorceress shouldn’t be wasting precious minutes, immense magical power hadn’t rewritten her personality. It was hard to occupy herself in a productive manner when waiting for a scheduled event to arrive.

The clock on the wall ticked past the hour marker, announcing she should get going, so she took a breath and rose.

Just get it over with. It’s really not something worth stressing about.

Even so, she hesitated for a moment before waving her staff and casting [Greater Warp].

The scenery shifted, and suddenly, an ethereal forest was swaying around her, the noise of wind rustling leaves filling her ears. The oldest and largest of the elven glades was as striking a sight as always: ancient, thick trunks of gray-brown wood supported a majestic canopy overhead, and blue and green lights flitted all around, luminous wisps lending the landscape an unearthly look. In the distance, wooden structures encircled and melded into the trees holding them, bridges and pathways ambling across the canopy. The architectural style of the elves was nearly as organic as the forest itself.

Rafael had arranged for the meetings to take place in secluded areas, thankfully, so no cheering crowd met her. Just twelve individuals, whose conversations cut off the moment she popped into existence.

Only twelve, because the elvish race was scattered across the human kingdoms. Their people had hosted two mini-qualifiers, one in the north and one in the south, to accommodate easier travel between their many forests. Twenty-four candidates in total, the allotment equal to that of the other two races. Humans had the lion's share of spots simply because so many had chosen to journey to Meridian for the ‘real qualifiers.’

The dwarves had done something similar with the geographic split, seeing how they were also spread across—or rather beneath—numerous mountain ranges. She would need to stop by all four of the locations before heading for the demons last.

Eyes crawled over her as a collection of elvishkind's most powerful figures confirmed that the Sorceress was truly alive. Not that any of them had doubted it, but seeing was believing, Vivi assumed.

She also stood there and took in their faces. The elves were elegant and beautiful creatures to a one, and each had either lustrous silver or gold hair and eyes. Their outfits, weapons, and postures varied, as did their reactions to her. Some were interested, some surprised despite the circumstances, some inscrutable. She’d dealt with this exact situation so many times she was almost desensitized to it. Almost—she still struggled against the urge to fidget.

“Greetings, Sorceress,” said the most familiar elf as he stepped forward from the pack. Her eyes locked onto him. It was a figure she recognized from her time playing Seven Cataclysms: the Greywarden. “It is an honor to meet you again after so many years,” he said with a slight bow. His voice was smooth and refined, an almost playful cadence hidden underneath the formal speech.

He was old for his kind, though not so absurdly ancient that he stood bent over and relied on a cane. The youthful features of the typical elf had begun to wrinkle, and his long silver hair had lost a hint of its shine. Keen gray eyes studied her with careful reservation.

She’d known he would be here; he was as strong as or stronger than Aeris and a revered hero of his people. It’d been a given he would represent elves on the world stage.

She’d been hoping he wouldn’t talk to her, though. Not because she disliked him or found his personality troubling like, say, she did with the Archbishop. She did find the ancient elf a little suspicious, admittedly, but only because elves as a whole were seclusive and wary of outsiders. Mae, Eshara, and most of the others Vivi had interacted with in the human kingdoms were as good as human themselves, having culturallyintegrated after so many years.

No, the problem stemmed from how he was the headmaster of the elvish academy for magic, the Sylvan Conclave. The elves were more naturally gifted with the arcane than any other race, and with a threat looming over the world, she should’ve gotten in contact with him and his colleagues directly.

She hoped he didn’t feel slighted. It wasn’t that she’d dismissed them; she just hadn’t wanted to deal with the headache.

“…hello,” she finally returned.

It probably wasn’t the opening he—or the rest—had expected from a legendary hero.

Before she could open her mouth to explain that she would be ferrying everyone off, now, thank you very much, the Greywarden continued speaking. She cursed herself for not taking the initiative like she’d planned.

“The Sylvan Conclave has received much news from our human brothers and sisters,” he began in a polite tone. “I even heard stories of a class you supervised yourself… what a privilege. I’ve been wondering whether our halls would be graced in a similar manner, though I understand your attention is divided a thousand ways, Lady Sorceress.”

…as she’d feared, he was capitalizing on the encounter. Procuring an audience with the Sorceress could be difficult, and it made sense a headmaster would advocate for his academy.

An elvish warrior smirked in the background, telling Vivi she wasn’t the only one thinking the man had shamelessly exploited the opportunity.

While she wouldn’t shut him down, she wasn’t going to have this conversation with eleven other people watching them. Especially since it might encourage more chatting.

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about the Conclave,” she told him. “Later, though, after the warps. Let’s get everyone to Meridian.”

Her voice sounded cold to her ears; she tended to close up in situations like this. Too many new people, and ones with expectations of her.

“Of course.” He took her words in stride. He didn’t quite give off the same aura of a politician as some others she’d dealt with, but neither did he seem as genuine as Aeris or even Lysander.

Again, elves as a whole felt a little withdrawn to her.

“Gather around, please,” she said. “We’ll be visiting the other elvish site first, and the two dwarvish ones after.”

“In succession?” the Greywarden asked. He sounded curious, not doubtful. “Are fewer jumps with more passengers less strenuous? I would have assumed the opposite.”

Vivi had mixed feelings on how the mage apparently wasn’t intimidated by her. Normally she hated people tiptoeing around her, but it also would’ve come with less conversation in this instance, so… tough choice.

As for his question: yes, it would be cheaper to do more trips with less cargo. But bringing others to the next meet-up spot would give her a natural reason to hurry things along—the more people she had in her company, the more it’d feel like an impersonal event.

“It’s trivial either way,” she said, lying about her reasoning. “So I’ve decided fewer jumps are better.”

He stared at her. She realized she’d accidentally said something ridiculous. Even for the Sorceress, a thirteen-person [Greater Warp] should be tiring. The word trivial didn’t belong within a hundred miles of what she was doing today.

“Brace yourself,” she said, ignoring the misstep entirely.

Without further ado, she warped their group across the continent.