No Class Found

Chapter 133 – Mission Log: Council Meeting

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Doc and Mazoga walked through the Academy gates.

The courtyard behind them still buzzed with soldiers and magisters, but the noise faded as they descended the wide stone steps into the Arc Quarter's main avenue.

Doc waited until they passed the first checkpoint before speaking.

"Maz."

She glanced sideways.

"What do you know about divine mana?"

Mazoga frowned and kept walking.

“Not much. I’m not the religious sort.” She adjusted the strap holding her warhammer across her back. “Gods and their powers were never something I spent time on. There were always more practical things to worry about.”

They turned left, leaving the polished stone of the Arc Quarter for the rougher streets beyond. Two watchmen nodded as they passed.

"What do you know?" Doc asked.

Mazoga glanced ahead, considering.

“Divine mana is rare. Extremely rare. It’s associated with beings or powers far beyond ordinary mortals. Ancient things. The kind of things people build temples around.”

“So gods?”

“Gods. Things people call gods.” Mazoga shrugged. “But divine mana can show up in other ways too.”

“Like what?”

“Divine Classes. The Emperor has one. Everyone knows that.”

“And that gives him divine mana?”

“I assume so.”

“You assume?”

“I told you I’m not the religious sort.”

They passed through a stone archway where the road widened and the crowds thickened. Merchants pushed carts while people moved between the shops.

“If you want real answers, find someone who studies gods or old magic.” Mazoga stepped around a handcart blocking half the road. “I’ve seen the Mother of the Vale. That’s about as close as I’ve come to any of it.”

“So there’s no common understanding?”

“Not much. Past the Emperor, it's mostly stories.” She shrugged. “Depends who you ask.”

Mazoga was quiet for a moment. The road sloped downward as they left the inner district behind, the buildings growing shorter and more weathered. Chimney smoke thickened the air.

“If you’re really interested,” she said, “ask Edda.”

Doc looked at her.

"Edda?"

"She probably knows more than most."

"Why would Edda know about divine mana?"

Mazoga's mouth curved.

"Because she's related to the Emperor."

Doc stopped walking.

“Edda is royalty?”

Mazoga chuckled.

"From what I recall, her noble house was part of a faction that fell out of power about thirty years ago. Most of the family didn’t survive the fallout.” She resumed walking, and Doc fell back into step beside her. “Edda was one of the few who did. They sent her out to govern a remote village on the frontier. Far enough from the capital that nobody important had to think about her."

The depot came into view at the end of the street. The yellow duck banner hung above the front entrance, unmoving.

Mazoga looked back at him.

"Why do you think she's so competent?"

Doc shook his head.

"I never thought she was royalty."

"Most people don't." Mazoga turned back toward the depot. "That's the point."

________________________________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ironha pressed two fingers against the man’s wrist and held them there.

His pulse was weak.

“The fever should break by tonight,” Ironha said. “Keep him warm and make sure he drinks water. Not broth. Water first.”

The woman nodded. She held a sleeping toddler against one shoulder while her husband sat on the treatment bed with his sleeve rolled past the elbow. The wound on his forearm was shallow, a scrape rather than a cut, but the skin around it carried the dull gray discoloration Ironha had been seeing more of in the past few weeks.

Necrotic exposure. Early stage. The kind that came from sleeping too close to ground where something dead had bled its mana into the soil.

She had treated the exposure with a small dose of tonic and given him something for the fever. He needed rest now.

That might be harder.

“Where are you staying?”

“An old storehouse near the south wall. They’ve been letting families sleep there.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know. Twenty? Maybe more.”

Ironha looked back at the man on the bed.

“Is it heated?”

“A little.”

Ironha handed the woman a small cloth pouch containing two fever pills and a sealed vial of diluted tonic.

"If the fever gets worse tonight, give him one pill. Not both. Come back tomorrow morning either way."

The woman took the pouch carefully. She looked at it and then back at Ironha.

"How much?"

“Three copper for the tonic. The pills are included.”

The woman counted out three coins and handed them over.

“Thank you.”

Ironha nodded.

She watched the family leave through the front entrance. The woman shifted the toddler higher on her shoulder and took her husband's arm as they stepped into the cold.

Ironha stood beside the empty treatment bed for a moment longer than she needed to.

Behind her, the clinic continued. Maris moved between the supply shelves and the examination area, restocking tonic bottles. One of the newer assistants, a young woman named Sarah who had arrived with a refugee family from the north, wiped down the second treatment bed and replaced the linen.

Ren's voice carried from the front desk as he confirmed a return appointment with an older man.

The clinic worked. Maris, Ren, and the others could keep it running without Ironha watching every step.

But she couldn't give that man a warm place to recover.

"Ironha."

She turned.

Calen stood in the connecting doorway between the clinic and the depot side. He had a crate balanced against one hip and sawdust on his sleeves.

“Doc and Maz are back.”

Ironha glanced toward the window. The afternoon had gotten farther along than she realized.

She handed the treatment notes to Sarah.

“Finish recording this. Maris knows where it goes.”

Sarah nodded.

Ironha walked through the connecting door and across the depot floor.

She found them in the yard.

Mazoga stood near the gate with her hammer still strapped across her back. Doc was beside her. Neither had sat down.

Ironha's Vital Sense reached Mazoga before she was close enough to speak.

The reading came back immediately. Mazoga's mana reserves sat well below resting baseline. The pattern was unmistakable. Deep, sustained skill use across multiple abilities, the kind of drain that came from chaining combat skills in rapid sequence. Stonebound Endurance had been active recently. So had Echo Breaker.

Ironha stopped in front of them.

"What happened?"

Mazoga looked at her.

"The……thing woke up."

Ironha waited.

"It regenerated inside the Academy. Killed two researchers. Broke out and made it into the courtyard."

"And you fought it."

"Doc and I put it down."

Ironha looked between them. Doc had a scuff along one shoulder plate but appeared intact. Mazoga stood stiffly.

Fish must have heard them as she came around the corner of the depot.

She crossed the yard to Doc and pushed her nose into his hand. Then she caught whatever remained on his armor and started sniffing.

Doc scratched behind her ear.

“You missed a fight.”

Fish stopped.

She looked up at him, ears lowering.

Doc smiled.

“Sorry.”

Fish huffed through her nose.

Ironha looked at Mazoga.

“Were you hurt?”

“No.”

Ironha could tell there was more to it.

“I’m checking you properly afterward.”

Mazoga didn't argue.

Doc glanced toward the depot.

“Lux says the meeting starts in eight minutes.”

Ironha followed his look.

“Good. We need to talk about the refugees.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Doc crossed the depot floor with Mazoga, Ironha, and Fish. They climbed the stairs to the second level and entered the small communications room Carl had set up months ago.

The radio sat on a wooden table bolted to the wall. A power indicator glowed amber beside the speaker grille.

Doc pulled the transmission lever and pressed the talk button.

"Foroughfore, this is Doc. Ready for the scheduled meeting."

Static hissed for two seconds.

Then Edda's voice came through clearly.

"Doc. Good timing. Threeburrow is joining us. Ygrana and Rurran are on the line."

Doc glanced at Mazoga.

She nodded.

"Rurran here," the gnoll's voice followed a moment later. "Ready when you are."

Edda started without preamble.

“Before we start talking trade, I’ll give a brief summary from our end. Foroughfore is stable. Brenn’s crew finished four additional rows this week and has already started another.”

Doc could hear papers shifting on Edda’s end.

“We’ve taken in another forty-three refugees in the past two weeks. That puts our population at just over two hundred.”

Mazoga leaned closer to the radio.

“Two hundred?”

“Just over.”

Ygrana spoke next.

“Threeburrow is doing better as well. The students Ironha trained before leaving have kept the clinic running. The tonics and procedures have made a difference.”

Rurran followed.

“The roads between Threeburrow and Foroughfore are secure. Draugr activity remains steady, but the patrols have handled it.”

Edda came back over the radio.

“Foroughfore still has room to grow.”

Ironha stepped forward.

“Then we need to talk about Glasshold.”

The radio crackled.

“Go ahead,” Edda said.

“The refugees coming south have been increasing,” Ironha said. “It was a few families at first. Now we’re seeing new groups almost every day.”

She paused.

“Glasshold is taking them in, but it’s running out of places to put them. Families are sleeping in wagons, tents, whatever they can find. We’re treating exposure and necrotic wounds every day, but I can’t give them a place to recover.”

“How many?” Edda asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Ironha said. “The city stopped letting refugees through the main gate two weeks ago. Everyone gets sent to the Outer Approach now, and that’s full too. People are camping outside the district.”

“Families?”

“Mostly. Some larger groups.”

Mazoga leaned toward the radio.

“They’re coming from farther north too.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Not the refugees. What they’re leaving behind.”

Mazoga rested one hand on the table.

“On my last expedition, we found a village already abandoned. Wagons had gone south before we arrived. An adventuring company got trapped there afterward with more than forty draugr around them.”

“Forty in one village?”

“At least.”

Mazoga paused.

“One of them was different. Bigger. It absorbed bodies and changed as it fought. We cut its head off and brought the body back.”

Maz's brows furrowed.

“It regenerated.”

The line went quiet.

“After decapitation?” Edda asked.

“Yes. We had to killed it again today.”

Kesh spoke for the first time.

“I’ve been finding more empty villages north of us.”

Doc turned toward the receiver.

“How many?”

“Enough.”

Kesh continued before anyone asked.

“Draugr are moving farther than they used to. Roads that had hunters and traders a few months ago are mostly empty now. I keep finding tracks heading south.”

Rurran came in next.

“Any sign the draugr are following them?”

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“Numbers?”

“Different every time. Small groups. Larger ones. I haven’t found another creature like the one Maz described.”

“So we don’t know what’s causing it.”

“No,” Kesh said. “But people are leaving.”

Ironha looked at the radio.

“And they’re ending up here.”

No one answered immediately.

Ironha continued.

“Glasshold can’t keep taking all of them.”

“How many could we be talking about?”

Ironha shook her head even though Edda couldn’t see her.

“I don’t know. A hundred wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe more, if people knew they had somewhere else to go.”

“Hob?”

“We can feed them.”

“A hundred?”

“A hundred.” Hob paused. “More than that, I want a warning.”

Edda didn’t answer immediately.

“Housing is still going up, and more people means more hands once they're settled.”

Ygrana spoke from Threeburrow.

“We can take some of the strain if needed.”

“Then capacity isn’t the problem,” Edda said.

Ironha leaned one hand against the table.

“No.”

“Do we know if they want to leave Glasshold?”

Ironha stopped.

“No.”

“Then find out before we plan around numbers we don’t have.”

“That I can do.”

“And we need to know how many have wagons. How many can walk. How many are sick.”

Marron came onto the line.

“And what they’re carrying. A family with a wagon is different from six people with what they can hold in their hands.”

Ironha nodded.

“A lot of them don’t have much.”

“Then we’ll need supplies waiting for them,” Marron said. “Food for the road, blankets, winter clothing if we can get it.”

Edda continued.

“How long from Glasshold with that many people?”

Mazoga answered.

“Longer than a normal caravan. Children, elderly, sick. You’d be moving at the pace of whoever can’t keep up.”

Kesh spoke.

“The road is still passable.”

Rurran followed him.

“Passable isn’t safe.”

“No,” Mazoga said.

“A group that size will need guards.”

“Threeburrow can send some,” Rurran said. “I can move patrols south and have them meet the caravan before the mountain road.”

“Foroughfore will send militia as well,” Edda said. “But sending everyone all the way to Glasshold would leave too much ground uncovered.”

Mazoga rested both hands on the table.

“So someone needs to bring them to you.”

“Yes.”

Doc already knew where this was going.

Edda said his name anyway.

“Doc.”

“Here.”

“Would you and Mazoga escort them out of Glasshold?”

Mazoga answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Doc looked toward the wall behind the radio room.

He had planned on spending more time at the Academy. There were still books in the library he hadn’t touched.

He looked back at the radio.

“Guess my vacation’s over.”

Mazoga snorted.

“I wasn’t aware Glasshold qualified as one,” Edda said.

“Neither was I.”

Then Doc leaned closer to the transmitter.

“We’ll take them.”

"Good. Ironha, you should go with them too."

"Who covers the clinic?"

"We'll send someone from here," Edda said. "You trained enough people before you left that I can spare one for Glasshold. A caravan that size needs a high level healer."

Ironha nodded.

"All right."

"Then find out who wants to go," Edda said. "Marron and I can work out the rest once you have numbers."

"I'll start today."

Doc let go of the lever. The amber indicator stayed lit beside the speaker grille.

Fish had put her head down on his boot sometime during the meeting. She looked up when he moved.

"Long walk coming," he told her.

Ironha was already at the door.

"We should start tonight," she said. "There's a storehouse near the south wall with twenty people in it. I'll take that one first."

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