tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37319784913555609662024-03-18T08:32:54.513-04:00The Zombie Knight SagaA dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02775956087855415064noreply@blogger.comBlogger3661125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-87511079178735590432024-03-18T03:00:00.005-04:002024-03-18T08:32:20.817-04:00Page 3543<span style="font-family: courier;">“Huh,” said Hector, feeling abruptly like he might need to elaborate. “But, uh... Nykeir seemed kinda amused by the giant tentacle. Like more amused than worried. He just... sort of stood there and took it. Then it gooped him up and yoinked him away.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>“Gooped him up and yoinked him away.” Once again, your word choice continues to impress.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Look, I don’t how else to describe it. It was really fucking weird-looking, man.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>No, no, I wasn’t saying I didn’t understand. If anything, I’d say you’ve painted quite the picture for me. I’m imagining it very clearly.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Oh. Well, good. But anyway, my point was that maybe the Yigorosk <i>wasn’t</i> actually that powerful. Y’know? Considering how unbothered he seemed when it happened? Maybe he survived. In... another dimension or something.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Given everything else we’ve seen lately, I suppose that’s possible. But it’s also been well over two millennia since his disappearance. If he really did live through that, then he probably got killed some other way, else he would’ve almost certainly returned by now.</i>’
<br /><br />
“You sound confident about that. Did you... know him personally?”
<br /><br />
Garovel allowed that question to breathe. ‘<i>As a matter of fact, yes, I did.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Why’d you never mention that you knew an ancient emperor?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Why should I have? He’s far from the only one I’ve ever encountered.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Really? How many past emperors have you met?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Oh, I don’t know. A lot. You have to understand: things weren’t always like the stalemate that we have with our current four emperors. There’ve been many times throughout history when the term “emperor” barely even applied, because they were popping up like weeds and dropping like flies. And many, despite how fleeting their time was, still managed to leave quite an impact on the world. In fact, I suspect that was all some of them cared about. Going out with a bang.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector thought a moment. “You’ve really known lots of emperors-class servants?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Okay, first off, you’re making it sound a bit more grandiose than it really was. And secondly, it’s not like I was intimately familiar with them all during the height of their power. Most of them, I met when they were younger. Once they got all high-and-mighty, they were usually out of my reach.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Usually? But not always.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>...No, not always.</i>’
<br /><br />
“So you <i>have</i> known some at their strongest.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Yes. And Nykeir, I’d say... hmm. I knew him when he was quite powerful but not at his strongest, probably.</i>’
<br /><br />
“And he didn’t leave a favorable impression, from the sound of it.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>He did not.</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-35171242041848117982024-03-17T03:00:00.002-04:002024-03-17T03:04:32.588-04:00Page 3542<span style="font-family: courier;">‘<i>You did, huh?</i>’ said Garovel. ‘<i>Well, uh, that’s neat ‘n all, but still not technically anything new. I’ve already seen Rathmore.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t really what I was--”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I’m just sayin’. I asked for a new thing, and you gave me an old thing. A been-there-done-that thing. Kinda disappointed in your weird new memory powers, honestly.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Garovel, there was more to it than just that.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>That’s good. Because I don’t see how just seeing Rathmore’s face would prove helpful at all.</i>’
<br /><br />
“...I actually didn’t see his face.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Say what?</i>’
<br /><br />
“The memory was, er... I mean, for some reason, people in the memories were all blurry. Faces included.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Wow, so after all that, you still don’t even know what he looks like?</i>’
<br /><br />
“Ah--yeah...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hah! Your new memory power sucks!</i>’
<br /><br />
“What the--?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Garovel’s still on top, baby!</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector’s face went flat.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Go on, ask me something! See how well I can remember stuff!</i>’
<br /><br />
In spite of himself, Hector couldn’t help snickering. “You done?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Not really. Feel like I could gloat for another ten minutes, if I needed to.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Can we skip that part? I <i>did</i> actually learn some useful things, I think.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Oh, alright. Out with it, then. Astonish me.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Agh--don’t build it up like that. I don’t know if it’s that good!”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Okay, okay. My expectations are lowering with each passing second. As usual.</i>’
<br /><br />
“As usu--?! Fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
<br /><br />
Eventually, they managed to actually discuss the subject in question.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hmm</i>,’ mused Garovel for a long moment. ‘<i>So you saw Anicca and even Nykeir here, too. Interesting.</i>’
<br /><br />
“And the giant tentacle monster. Don’t forget that. Turns out that thing really existed, after all.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Yeah, I know. I told you that when I first brought it up. What, you didn’t believe me?</i>’
<br /><br />
“I mean... not really, no.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Wow. I’m hurt, Hector. Blindly believing everything I say is part of your sacred duty as a servant, you know.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Uh-huh...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Gotta say, though. I wasn’t expecting to learn the truth about Nykeir’s sudden disappearance this way. So in the end, he got devoured by a Yigorosk... And a pretty gnarly one, from the sound of it.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Gnarly? Were they not all that powerful?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Of course not. Nykeir was probably the strongest servant alive at that time. A normal Yigorosk shouldn’t have been able to touch him. Frankly, while I do find that son of bitch’s death hilarious and well-deserved, I also find this information rather terrifying. A Yigorosk that strong is, uh... not a pleasant thought, given everything else I know about them.</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-5107579005351553092024-03-16T03:00:00.005-04:002024-03-16T03:47:58.434-04:00Page 3541<span style="font-family: courier;">In fact, given the relatively close proximity to Warrenhold, Hector began to further wonder if his castle might have some tangential relation to these monuments. Voreese might know more, given that she was Stasya Orlov’s reaper, but from the way that Voreese had talked about her before, Hector had a feeling that the reaper wouldn’t be able to provide many new details. It seemed like, even now, Stasya was still something of a mystery to Voreese.
<br /><br />
And as he recalled, Stasya was herself a descendant of the Nykeirian people.
<br /><br />
Which was a crazy thing to think about. This fucking prick that had been making Rathmore’s life hell had been such an important historical figure? It felt hard to acknowledge that as even possible, let alone true.
<br /><br />
According to Voreese, though, Stasya had not actually been born until after the collapse of the Nykeirian Empire. She’d been “a product of the Mohssian culture,” as the reaper had put it.
<br /><br />
Whew. He was feeling a little woozy, all of a sudden. Perhaps he needed a break from this weird-ass memory-diving. And so much the better, since it seemed like he’d reached the end of this memory, anyway.
<br /><br />
He opened his eyes again, felt breath in his lungs again, felt his whole body again.
<br /><br />
And felt even more woozy, actually, enough to make him stumble backward and fall on his ass.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hector!</i>’ came Garovel’s voice.
<br /><br />
Hector had to shake his head a few times before the ground beneath him finally stopped spinning. “Hey, Garovel...”
<br /><br />
The reaper gave a silent sigh. ‘<i>Geez. You were gone for quite a while there, buddy. Startin’ to make me worry you’d slipped into another soul coma. I was getting ready to just sit here like an asshole for two weeks, watching you.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Ah. Uh. Yeah, sorry about that...” He took his time climbing back to his feet, still feeling a bit drained, like he’d just gotten done with a full body workout. “How long was I out?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>A few hours, I think.</i>’
<br /><br />
He straightened. “Hours?!”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Yeah. Didn’t feel like that for you, I take it?</i>’
<br /><br />
“No!”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hmm. Did it feel shorter or longer?</i>’
<br /><br />
“I mean, uh--” He had to think about that for a second. “Shit. I only looked at, like, two memories...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>So shorter, then.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Ugh. I guess I should be more careful about doing that again in the future. I didn’t intend to spend so much time on this.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Well, did you at least learn something new?</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector looked at the reaper. “I saw Rathmore.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-22337118325487304222024-03-15T03:00:00.003-04:002024-03-16T02:16:12.513-04:00Page 3540<span style="font-family: courier;">The scene went dead quiet after that, to the point that Hector wondered if that was the end. Everything in sight was silent and still, including Rathmore, who merely stood there, staring at the Gate through which Nykeir had just vanished.
<br /><br />
Wait a minute. Had this guy just yelled “Yigorosk?” Hector hadn’t forgotten that name. He still, unfortunately, remembered researching it. A yigorosk was supposed to be mythical creature, infamous for its ooze and tentacles, among other things.
<br /><br />
But then... this memory would mean...
<br /><br />
Ugh. Hector did not appreciate this kind of confirmation.
<br /><br />
At length, Rathmore moved again. He tossed something up into the air and caught it again, then let out a small laugh.
<br /><br />
Hector froze the memory there, wanting to get a better look at the object in his hand. Had he had it on him the whole time? Or had he pulled it out of the rubble earlier? Nykeir had seemed quite confident nothing could have survived the forge’s destruction, so what could possibly have--
<br /><br />
Ah. Hector recognized the object instantly. A small black pyramid with protrusions on some of its sides.
<br /><br />
A Kag. A type of ancient key. He’d seen one just like it back in Himmekel.
<br /><br />
Come to think of it, that Kag had been what brought them to the treasure they’d been seeking--and to Malast.
<br /><br />
Huh.
<br /><br />
Wow. Suddenly, this seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. Like he should have been looking for a Kag all along.
<br /><br />
But hold on here. It wasn’t that simple, was it? The Kag in Himmekel had actually been used like a proper key. Diego Redwater had slotted it into a monument--one not unlike the Gate here. But Rathmore, from what Hector had just seen, had not slotted this Kag into anything. Instead, the guy seemed to have just magically activated it in his hand.
<br /><br />
That was quite a difference. Hmm.
<br /><br />
He rewound the memory in order to check more closely on what Rathmore had been up to when he’d been digging. The man’s blurry hands didn’t make it easy, but eventually, Hector spotted it. A moment where Rathmore did indeed appear to pull something out of the debris.
<br /><br />
Yes.
<br /><br />
While the forge and everything else in the area had been annihilated, the Gate was not actually the lone survivor. The Kag had endured, too.
<br /><br />
Damn. Did that mean these things were made out of the same stuff as the rest of Rathmore’s Materials? Hell, they kinda looked like nightrock, now that Hector was thinking about it, which made him wonder if that was a coincidence. </span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-23111133967115657552024-03-14T03:00:00.005-04:002024-03-16T22:35:05.345-04:00Page 3539<span style="font-family: courier;">Rathmore took a deep breath and took a step closer. “Lucky am I that you have become such an arrogant, careless fool. Never could I have accomplished this when you were younger.”
<br /><br />
Nykeir straightened. “Accomplished what?”
<br /><br />
“Curious, are you?” said Rathmore, raising one hand slowly, palm upwards. “Or merely frightened?”
<br /><br />
The other man gave an audible sniff. “Go on, Seer. Stupefy me, then. Show me what your Heavenly Sight has seen.”
<br /><br />
“I can grant you but a glimpse. ‘Twill be up to you to see anything beyond.”
<br /><br />
“Hmph.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore’s hand tensed suddenly. “Now, Behold!”
<br /><br />
Light gathered into his hand, then burst forth, shooting toward Nykeir and enveloping him.
<br /><br />
It clashed against a wall of yellow flame, with Nykeir remaining comfortably in the center, apparently unbothered about being entirely consumed by fire.
<br /><br />
“Tell me this is not all,” said Nykeir, his voice distorting from behind the inferno, sounding lower and almost monstrous, as if the flames themselves might be speaking for him.
<br /><br />
But indeed, that was not all. Because the light still enveloped the flames, and then bounded backward to the Gate, first touching the smaller rock, then connecting to the larger one. The beam stayed there, bright and strong, linking Rathmore to Nykeir, and Nykeir to the stones.
<br /><br />
“Yigorosk!” said Rathmore.
<br /><br />
And Hector blinked, in complete disbelief of what he was seeing.
<br /><br />
A gargantuan tentacle shot out of the Gate, appearing from the shimmering line of light between two rocks and arcing over Rathmore’s head to slam down on top of Nykeir.
<br /><br />
The ground exploded from the impact, filling the area with a cloud of dirt and debris, and Hector had to wait for it to clear. When it did, he saw Nykeir still there, standing within the fire and light, a massive hole burned into the tentacle where it fell upon him.
<br /><br />
From his body language, he seemed a bit confused but not terribly concerned. Then he started laughing. “What in the world is this?!” he said happily.
<br /><br />
Rather than answering, the light from Rathmore’s hand shone even more intensely, and the burned tentacle shivered and melted into a bluish ooze, which splashed over Nykeir, coating him entirely. The yellow flame and even the light surrounding it were both smothered.
<br /><br />
And the tentacle reformed, yanking itself back through the Gate, whereupon it winked out of existence, taking all remaining traces of the light beam with it.</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-50657450484825783432024-03-13T03:00:00.005-04:002024-03-14T01:05:00.629-04:00Page 3538<span style="font-family: courier;">“Have I?” said Rathmore, sounding mildly curious, though more haggard than anything. “So after all is said and done, you <i>do</i> value my opinion.”
<br /><br />
“Hah. Of course. I should think that obvious by now.”
<br /><br />
“The only obvious thing is that you take great joy in belittling me and my work.”
<br /><br />
“Oh? Perhaps so. But what should that matter, if you are the genius that everyone says you are? A truly great man would not be bothered by any of my playful jabs, surely.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore stepped toward the Gate. “When the most powerful man in the world makes it his life’s mission to ruin my own, what is there to be done? Tell me, O, Nykeir the Great. In what ways have I erred in my dealings with you? What other paths might I have taken and when? Please, be quite specific.”
<br /><br />
“You are sounding rather bitter, my friend.”
<br /><br />
“And you are sounding rather predictable.”
<br /><br />
“Am I? What shall I say next, then?”
<br /><br />
“Something either self-congratulatory or derisive of me, I’m sure.”
<br /><br />
Nykeir chortled. “I shall have to mix things up, then. I do so hate being predictable.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore placed his hand against the Gate, saying nothing.
<br /><br />
“Here, allow me to administer a well-earned compliment. Of the two reasons I brought you to this place, one of them was to have you tell me what you know of these monoliths.”
<br /><br />
“In what capacity does that qualify as a compliment?”
<br /><br />
“You do not see? Because I am wondering if you may know something that I do not! The most flattering of notions, no?”
<br /><br />
“You sicken me, madman.”
<br /><br />
Nykeir scoffed. “Biting words--and wholly undeserved. Please, my friend. You must have learned something of these things during your time with them. Else you would not have been able to alter them as you have.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore turned to look at him again. “Yes,” he said, suddenly confident. “I did learn of them. Many things, in truth. And that is knowledge you shall never possess.”
<br /><br />
“Oh, do not be so quick to say so. If you tell me, I shall let you live.”
<br /><br />
“You will let me live, regardless.”
<br /><br />
“Hmm-hmm, you believe so?”
<br /><br />
“Yes. Because of the other reason you brought me here. I have realized what it is.”
<br /><br />
“Heh. Speak it, then.”
<br /><br />
“You want to watch me suffer. You brought me so that I would see my work undone. My time and energy, wasted. And at your hands, naturally.”
<br /><br />
Nykeir was silent for a few moments. Then somehow, Hector felt like he could see a smile appear on that blurry face of his. “I shan’t deny it.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-6244323202593879542024-03-12T03:00:00.001-04:002024-03-12T03:00:00.149-04:00Page 3537<span style="font-family: courier;">When the fire finally died all the way back down, it was as expected. Aside from the Gate itself, only mounds of ash remained, which were already beginning to blow away in the wind.
<br /><br />
Disappointed, Hector thought this might already be the end of the memory. No new information to be gleaned.
<br /><br />
Then two figures stepped into view, one of whom was stumbling forward, as if having been pushed.
<br /><br />
They were both blurry, just as before, but he did not have long to wait in order to begin learning their identities.
<br /><br />
“Rathmore, Rathmore, Rathmore,” said the more composed one, sounding almost pitying. “See what has become of all your tireless work.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore had fallen to his hands and knees and was struggling to stand.
<br /><br />
“The worst is to know that this could have been avoided,” said the composed man, stepping closer. “If you had but listened. Accepted my terms. But no. You were in love, I suppose. And for that, I am possessed of a morsel of sympathy.” He broke for a laugh. “Never have I known a fortress more impenetrable to the sieges of reason.”
<br /><br />
Finally on his feet again, Rathmore still wasn’t answering. Instead, he’d begun sifting through the smoldering heap of dust, leaving fleeting clouds in his wake.
<br /><br />
“Looking for something? I left nothing to find. Apart from that lone monolith. Quite the irritants, these Materials of yours. Or was it Tools? Which name was it again?”
<br /><br />
Rathmore ignored him and just kept digging.
<br /><br />
“You are wasting your time, my friend. I promise you that I was quite thorough. Ah, but perhaps you wonder how I am so certain. It is because I have already visited several of these other sites. This may be the first time you are present for it, but it is not my first time doing this. Hah. For a man heralded as a genius, these constructs of yours were all surprisingly similar in how primitive they were. Hardly even worth calling forges, in my view. I made sure to burn the heart and roots out of each and every one.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore’s hands stopped moving, and he slumped down onto his knees again. “Why bring me here?”
<br /><br />
“Aha. Glad am I that you have asked. Two reasons, truth be told. But they are... conflicting, now that I am thinking on it. Hmm.” The man scratched his head. “Alas, perhaps you have made me somewhat unreasonable, myself.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-61420309225786221212024-03-11T03:00:00.003-04:002024-03-11T19:09:54.728-04:00Page 3536<span style="font-family: courier;">“You would ask me to <i>forget</i> what Nykeir has done to my family? That man deserves a slow, sunless death without mercy or hope.”
<br /><br />
“Aye, that he does. But you do not deserve to waste your life in the miserable pursuit of him.”
<br /><br />
At that, she turned away and made no response.
<br /><br />
“At this point, ‘tis a matter of mere pragmatism. You must realize this, my dear. On some level, you must. You have acquired much of the influence that you might have once inherited, but Nykeir’s kingdom is no longer the fledgling power that it was when he conquered your home. He is among the most powerful men on the continent. Perhaps the world, even. There is no victory for you against him. And even if there was, there is no kingdom to reclaim. Better to focus on defending what you now have, rather than risking it all to take back what once was.”
<br /><br />
After that, the memory fragmented--but it didn’t quit break down entirely. Hector could see that the conversation between the two was continuing. He just couldn’t make out what they were saying. It felt like there was more here. He thought he could sense it, somehow. But then everything seemed to speed up and fade away, disappearing into a fog.
<br /><br />
Damn. He supposed that was still pretty informative, but he’d really felt like--
<br /><br />
Wait a minute. No. There <i>was</i> something more here. Another memory. Linked to that one. How? By time? By the people?
<br /><br />
He found it.
<br /><br />
The scene that appeared before him one of utter devastation. Pillars of flame shot up into the air, roaring with such intensity that he could almost <i>feel</i> them. Red and orange filled his view, blanketing the Gate in its entirety.
<br /><br />
So it was as he’d thought, then. He was convinced. That giant thing had indeed been a Fusion Forge, and this memory here was its destruction.
<br /><br />
How had it happened, though? Why was the memory starting off like this? Shouldn’t it have begun earlier? With a bit of context or something? He tried rewinding, but it didn’t work. Whether that was because the memory itself was incomplete or because he simply wasn’t doing it right, Hector couldn’t quite tell.
<br /><br />
Until he tried fast forwarding, instead. That worked like a charm. The flames raged higher and higher, seeming to reach impossibly high into the sky, before eventually beginning to dissipate. Hector had no concept of how long it might’ve taken. These couldn’t have been normal flames, surely, if they’d been able to destroy a forge. </span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-43784816188501940972024-03-10T04:00:00.002-04:002024-03-10T05:59:36.392-04:00Page 3535<span style="font-family: courier;">Rathmore continued on, mumbling low enough that Hector couldn’t hear what he was saying.
<br /><br />
After a short time, Anicca stepped closer to the Gate. “You are getting lost in your own musings again,” she said firmly. “Rein that wandering mind of yours in, please.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore stopped and looked at her. Hector wished he could see the expression on the man’s blurry face. Given how wildly Rathmore’s mood had shifted, Hector wondered if he would get upset with her again or become even more timid.
<br /><br />
Anicca left him an opening to respond, but when he didn’t, she spoke up again. “How will any of this help me to reclaim my birthright?” she said. “I’ve granted you the resources you asked for. I’ve bestowed titles and land to you. I’ve given you influence of your own within my court. And yet the years continue to draw on with no destination in sight. No path to my crown.”
<br /><br />
“You have a crown.”
<br /><br />
“Not the crown of my mother. Not the one that was stolen from me.”
<br /><br />
Rathmore scoffed. “Even now, you cling to this idea of vengeance? After all we have built together?”
<br /><br />
“What have we built? A palatable place to hide and die in? A little corner of the world to call mine, only because none else know to claim it? You speak of nothing. Empty lands and hollow words.”
<br /><br />
“And you speak of greed and ingratitude. What you have is more than most in the world, and yet it is not enough for you. Nor will it be, ‘till you have brought ruin to it all and perhaps finally realized your own foolishness.”
<br /><br />
“Again, you speak out of turn.”
<br /><br />
“Because again, you push me when you should not. You do not make it easy to love you, dearheart.”
<br /><br />
Anicca said nothing.
<br /><br />
“You say I speak of empty lands and hollow words? That is your crown. Nykeir has made it so. There is nothing to reclaim. It has been too long. Your people will not rejoice upon your return. They did not fight for you. They did not weep at news of your death. They do not care. And why should they? You were little more than a babe, hardly out of your swaddling clothes.”
<br /><br />
She turned and walked over to Rathmore, right up to his face, and slapped him.
<br /><br />
Rathmore just took it.
<br /><br />
“Yours are craven words,” she said, sounding not just bitter but almost tearful, too. “Repeating such lies. Why? Cruelty ill suits you.”
<br /><br />
“If you think that was cruelty, dearheart, then you truly have learned nothing of the world, even after all this time.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-46554093685899067362024-03-08T02:23:00.001-05:002024-03-08T02:23:18.047-05:00Next page on the 10thThanks for reading, guys and gals. Hope you're doing well. Me, I'm doin' pretty good. Thanks for asking. Damn, you're really thoughtful, y'know that? Wow.George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-53344181670933690912024-03-07T03:00:00.002-05:002024-03-07T03:00:00.153-05:00Page 3534<span style="font-family: courier;">At length, Hector decided that he wanted the memory to resume, but since he still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to pause it in the first place, he didn’t know how to make it continue. He floundered for a bit, searching up and down and all around him, as if he might perhaps find a hidden button somewhere that he could press.
<br /><br />
Thankfully, though, it soon started back up on its own. Or had that been his doing, too? Yeah, it probably was, huh? He didn’t see how anyone else could’ve been responsible for something that was occurring his very own mind. Other than maybe Rasalased. But he didn’t sense the Dry God anywhere, right now.
<br /><br />
The apparent queen was now quiet, perhaps thinking twice about saying something to further antagonize Rathmore. And Hector couldn’t help feeling rather anxious for her. Rathmore didn’t exactly seem like the nicest guy so far. He wasn’t about to kill this woman, was he?
<br /><br />
For a time, the blurry Rathmore seemed to just be staring at her, but eventually, he took a deep breath, rubbed his face with one hand, then exhaled a heavy sigh. “...Apologies, dearheart. I seem to have... overreacted.”
<br /><br />
“‘Tis unlike you to speak to me so.”
<br /><br />
“Yes, I... let emotion get the rule of me. I suppose I was more frustrated with my results than I realized. Please forgive me, Anicca.”
<br /><br />
“Hmm. I shall have to think on it.”
<br /><br />
“Anicca, please...”
<br /><br />
“Tell me again why this monument confounds you so. I recall you mentioning before that you believe it to be some manner of gateway, yes?”
<br /><br />
“Ah...” Rathmore turned away from her to look at the Gate again. “Belief has no bearing on it. It <i>is</i> a gateway. And so much more than that, as well. In truth, calling it a mere gateway may be doing it a disservice.”
<br /><br />
“You know this how?”
<br /><br />
“I can see it. The full breadth of its divine form and heavenly function. No doubt, when you think of a gateway, you think of a simple threshold which marks the passage of one area into another, but this monument... it can bend those areas as it pleases. It can make them overlap. Or distort. Twist them up and down. Turn them bright and beautiful. Or dark and ugly. Or perhaps something else entirely. Perhaps a ‘bridge’ might be a more apt term for it, in some sense. Ah, no, but even that will not do, naturally... what then... hrm...?”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-41229308727255801062024-03-06T03:00:00.007-05:002024-03-06T05:12:46.395-05:00Page 3533 -- CCXCIV.<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Chapter Two Hundred Ninety-Four: ‘O, Wonder! O, Threshold...!’
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://thezombieknight.blogspot.com/search/label/ch294?max-results=30#order=ASC">Click to display entire chapter at once</a> -- (<a href="https://thezombieknight.blogspot.com/search/label/ch294?max-results=30#order=ASCm=1">mobile link</a>)</span>
<br span="" /><span style="font-family: courier;">
<br />
The memory froze when Hector heard that. Had he frozen it himself? Yeah. He felt so. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done that, but it seemed true.
<br /><br />
If this blurry figure in front of him was really Rathmore, then he wanted to take a minute and reexamine the scene.
<br /><br />
Recontextualize it, actually.
<br /><br />
This giant metal-and-rock formation all around the Gate...
<br /><br />
Could it have been a Fusion Forge?
<br /><br />
Hector knew that they could look like just about anything, so perhaps there was no telling for sure. But if it was, then that might explain, in part, why it no longer existed in the modern day. Forges were too highly sought after to be left alone. Someone would’ve either taken it or destroyed it.
<br /><br />
Furthermore, it might also explain how Rathmore had been able to affect the supposedly un-affectable stone. If anything in the world could modify the unmodifiable, it would probably be a Fusion Forge, wouldn’t it?
<br /><br />
Hmm.
<br /><br />
The more he looked at the enormous formation, the more he wondered about how it might have functioned. All those spiked points focusing on the Gate. Were they for channeling ardor, perhaps? Or extracting it, maybe? Dammit. Maybe if the scene hadn’t gone white earlier, he would’ve gotten a clearer picture of things.
<br /><br />
He found himself hovering higher, floating above the stony contraption in order to get a better idea of just how huge it really was. It extended out farther than he’d realized, seemingly embedded deep into the ground, making it difficult to tell where the natural rock ended and Forge-rock began.
<br /><br />
Perhaps that was the point. The Candle had a similar design philosophy, didn’t it? Built right into a tree. Made inseparable from it. In which case, it might’ve been better to think of the “natural” rock as still part of the forge. Like a root system.
<br /><br />
And that lever. That was distinct. Hector looked for any other mechanical parts, but he couldn’t find any. How could that be the only thing? Was there a vast network of cogwheels underground? Probably not. That sort of technology seemed a bit advanced for how long ago this must have taken place.
<br /><br />
But then again...
<br /><br />
Ancient integrators were no joke. Stasya Orlov, the creator of Warrenhold, had apparently invented locked door mechanisms long before the technology became commonplace. So maybe Rathmore had done something similar here.
</span></span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-46359428037021516502024-03-05T03:00:00.001-05:002024-03-05T03:00:00.128-05:00Page 3532<span style="font-family: courier;">But the scene surrounding it was quite strange indeed. Instead of a simple forest, there was a tremendous formation of... something. Rock? Metal?
<br /><br />
Both.
<br /><br />
Almost like a massive, tangled web. It rose high into the air above, with dozens of metal spikes pointing downward at the Gate, looking almost like scorpion tails preparing to strike. But they were not moving. Nor did it seem like they ever would, Hector thought.
<br /><br />
What was this? This giant structure didn’t exist in the modern day. What had happened to it?
<br /><br />
He observed the scene for a while, unsure if anything was even going to happen at all. No one was around. The structure seemed perfectly still.
<br /><br />
Then, at length, a person stepped into view. Hector couldn’t make out any details about them, as their face and body were a blur. They hovered around the base of the structure, perhaps examining things, until they eventually approached an apparent lever on the far western edge of the structure and pulled it with both hands.
<br /><br />
The scene exploded with bright light, and it remained that way for so long that Hector began to think the memory had ended. When the light finally faded, however, Hector looked for some kind of change to the scene.
<br /><br />
But he couldn’t see a difference.
<br /><br />
“Does this qualify as success?” came a voice from his right, and Hector turned to see a second blurry person approaching.
<br /><br />
“No,” said the first person, still by the lever, “but perhaps it will have to.”
<br /><br />
“Truly? You are finally putting an end to this nonsense?”
<br /><br />
“For this monument, yes. But only because there are still so many others left.”
<br /><br />
“Bah. You gave me hope for a moment there. I ask again: what is the point in all this if no real results are achievable? Even if your theories are true, why bother with--”
<br /><br />
“Cease your incessant whinging, woman. If you still do not understand, then I expect you never will.”
<br /><br />
There was silence, until the second spoke again. “I did not expect to find you in such foul temper. You are normally so calm, even in failure.”
<br /><br />
“Hmph. Perhaps that is why your insufferable attitude has gotten so out of hand. Because I have been too calm. Because I have allowed you to forget who I am.”
<br /><br />
“You are my consort, and I am your Queen. You would do well to--”
<br /><br />
“No, you ignorant wench. I am the Seer of the Distant Dawn. I am He Who Has Touched the Heavens. I am Rathmore of Andeyal.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-64706836240564567112024-03-04T03:00:00.002-05:002024-03-04T10:02:01.621-05:00Page 3531<span style="font-family: courier;">Hector almost resented that. But the reaper probably had a point. “I think... the way it works is... I need to see something in order to search for it in my memories. Specifically, I mean. I’ve tried to search based on just ideas before, but the results I got back were always kinda... shitty and vague. Almost like the Candle itself was trying to figure out what I want. And not quite succeeding.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>So you’re saying the Candle is stupid.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I did <i>not</i> say that. Not at all.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>That’s what I heard.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I’m saying that words like ‘Rathmore’s Materials’ or whatever are not helpful. Maybe if I knew what they looked like, then I could find something relevant, but...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Well, the Gate’s right here. Put those photoreceptors to use and get a good look. That’s basically why we came all this way, isn’t it?</i>’
<br /><br />
“I <i>have</i> been looking,” said Hector, extending out his iron platform so that he could eye the Gate up and down again. “I’m just trying to...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>No rush</i>,’ said Garovel. ‘<i>Take your time and think. You’ve got a lot in there, right? Soak in the view and think back. Hell, meditate if you have to.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hmm. Hector did as the reaper said, circling around the Gate to get a series of good looks in from all different angles, including from above and below. Maybe he couldn’t search for someone mentioning the Gate, but perhaps it would show up in the background of a memory. If he could just learn to recognize its shape...
<br /><br />
‘<i>Okay, but don’t actually take that long. I’m getting bored over here.</i>’
<br /><br />
“You were being so helpful for a minute there...”
<br /><br />
He concentrated. And yet also didn’t. He wanted to find just the right headspace to occupy for this. He wanted to be loose and free. Moving through memories quickly and easily. Not lingering. Not getting bogged down in details. But he also wanted to have enough awareness so that he could actually detect the Gate if it appeared.
<br /><br />
It was a balancing act, of sorts. A long and strange trek, speeding by countless memories like a passenger looking out the window of a train.
<br /><br />
There was a temptation to simply... keep going. Because, also like a train, there was a certain rhythm to this. A certain... comfort. Passively observing the world. Observing history. Hmm.
<br /><br />
Stop.
<br /><br />
There.
<br /><br />
He had to rewind a bit. Had to journey backwards. Not sure that he’d seen what he thought. Had to take his time, too. Look over each scene a bit more thoroughly.
<br /><br />
But he found it.
<br /><br />
Rathmore’s Gate.
</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-964367592289845902024-03-03T03:00:00.002-05:002024-03-03T12:05:17.907-05:00Page 3530<span style="font-family: courier;">“Yes, I’m sure,” said Hector. “Shut up with that, already.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>But what if breaking it unlocks its hidden power?</i>’
<br /><br />
“Why in the world would that do it?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Why wouldn’t it? It’d be like breaking open a locked door.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Yeah, okay. Or it’d be like smashing a priceless vase.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Y’know what? I bet you’re not even strong enough to break it. I bet it’s probably too powerful for you.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector snorted. “You must be getting desperate, if you think <i>that’s</i> gonna convince me.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Ugh, damn you and your lack of pride. You’re a lord now, you know. Your ego is supposed to be inflating every day.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector ignored him, knowing they were going to get sidetracked again if he didn’t.
<br /><br />
In a background thought process, he’d been trying to sift through the memories of the Candle for anything about Rathmore’s Gate or Rathmore’s Materials--or even Rathmore himself. In truth, he’d been searching for a while, on and off for the past few days.
<br /><br />
With all the things that the Candle had left him, it felt like there had to be <i>something</i> in there. Somewhere. Right? If these Materials were as old as Garovel said, then surely the Candle would’ve learned something about them as some point.
<br /><br />
If only it was that simple.
<br /><br />
Perhaps Hector was taking too long with his thoughts, because Garovel seemed to realize what he was up to.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Find something relevant in that head of yours?</i>’ the reaper asked.
<br /><br />
“I’m trying, but... I don’t think so.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hmm. Nothing at all about Rathmore? He was pretty damn famous, so it would make sense if the Candle knew about him.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Unfortunately,” said Hector, “that’s not really how it works. The memories are... just, like, scenes in my head. And emotions, too. Those are able to come through. But names? And words? I can’t really use those like keywords for a search.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>No? That sucks.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Tell me about it,” said Hector. “I can sometimes remember... conversations. Sort of. But that’s about it. And they’re usually kinda... weird and muddy. Probably because they were taking place in a language that I don’t actually know.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>So you just need to search for someone mentioning Rathmore’s name.</i>’
<br /><br />
“You make it sound so simple...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Maybe it is. Maybe you’re getting into your own head and overcomplicating things. Not that you would ever do such a thing, I’m sure.</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-8858754218045232772024-03-02T03:00:00.001-05:002024-03-02T03:00:00.128-05:00Page 3529<span style="font-family: courier;">‘<i>What, so you’re saying you really DID lose track of it beforehand?</i>’
<br /><br />
“Um... maybe? Do you remember when I last had it?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>It was on the ground. Not technically in your possession, I suppose. You were carrying it in orbit around you until Malast, uh... gave you his “blessing.” Then you dropped it, along with everything else. When you came to, Malast gave you everything back... except the mirror. Hmm.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Oh. Huh. You think he left it out on purpose?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Tough to say. He might not have even known it was a special artifact. You had it encased in your iron the whole time, so perhaps he merely mistook it for debris or something.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Yeah, but he was a ‘god.’ And he, like, knew stuff.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>You have a real way with words, sometimes, Hector.</i>’
<br /><br />
“What I mean is, he would’ve known that it was special, wouldn’t he? Because he could just tell. With his weird god-powers or whatever.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I’m inclined to agree with you. But remember, he was also a big idiot.</i>’
<br /><br />
“That’s, uh... hmm.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>And a bigger douche.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Wow, Garovel. Tell me how you really feel.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I’m just saying we can’t assume much about what his intentions might’ve been. If we’re feeling less insulting in our choice of labels, then we would probably call a guy like that a “wildcard.”</i>’
<br /><br />
“Okay, well, even if he didn’t hold the mirror back intentionally, we’re still at least certain that I didn’t have it on me when we returned to Atreya, right? Which was the important point.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I suppose so, yes. Which would mean... we REALLY have no idea how it ended up in the Gate.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Oh, maybe Malast sent it afterwards. Like, maybe he saw it on the floor and realized he’d forgotten something, sent it through on its own, and then it got stuck here.”
<br /><br />
The reaper was quiet.
<br /><br />
“What?” said Hector.
<br /><br />
‘<i>We didn’t have much time to get to know Malast, and yet... somehow, the scene you just described sounds incredibly likely to me. I can just imagine him fucking up like that.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Geez. Y’know, you’re ragging on him so much that it’s starting make me feel bad for him.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Really? You’re the one who shit-talked him to his face, though.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I--well, that wasn’t--I mean... er...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Yeah. There’s the Hector I know.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector wasn’t sure what to say now. And rather than continuing to struggle with that, he returned his attention to the mirror.
<br /><br />
‘<i>You sure you don’t want to break it?</i>’ said Garovel.</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-49878749850559011052024-03-01T03:00:00.003-05:002024-03-01T05:34:47.002-05:00Page 3528<span style="font-family: courier;">‘<i>Ooh, wait a minute</i>,’ said Garovel. ‘<i>What if this thing is a teleporter now like the Gate? Try sticking your hand through it. Watch it pass through the mirror like an open window.</i>’
<br /><br />
“You really think that’ll happen?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Well, of course. It was my idea, and I’m never wrong, so yes, I’m sure it will.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector bobbed his head and decided not to retort. “Alright, then. Here goes.”
<br /><br />
He pressed his gauntleted hand flatly against the reflection. And waited.
<br /><br />
Nothing happened, still.
<br /><br />
‘<i>You’re obviously doing it wrong</i>,’ said Garovel.
<br /><br />
“Oh, am I? How so?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Uh. Well. Your armor. You gotta use your bare hand, of course.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Okay, then.” He dematerialized one gauntlet and repeated the same action.
<br /><br />
It made no difference.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Alright, it’s useless. You can break it now.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I’m not gonna break it!”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Oh, c’mon. It deserves it. Just look how smug it is. With its. Reflectiveness.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Even if it is useless, what would be the point in breaking it?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>To make me feel better?</i>’
<br /><br />
“Garovel.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I’m kidding again. Relax.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Are you, though? You sure this isn’t one of those sarcastic confession-type things?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Maybe a little. Maybe I think that mirror is being a real prick, right now.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Okay, Garovel.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I don’t appreciate your tone, Hector.</i>’
<br /><br />
He decided to move on before the reaper dragged him down another conversational rabbit hole. “I wonder if whatever power the mirror had... got sucked out by the Gate ‘r something.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>That sounds possible. Hmm. Maybe even plausible.</i>’
<br /><br />
“But why would it only affect the mirror and not anything else? The Shifting Spear of Logante had power in it, too, right? And it came through the Gate just fine. Not to mention the Scarf.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Perhaps the nature of the mirror’s power was similar to that of the Gate. So they interacted with one another.</i>’
<br /><br />
“So... maybe it’s actually the opposite of what you were saying. Maybe it <i>was</i> a teleporter, but now it’s not?’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Maybe. And if so, then... man, that bites. Bad luck on our part.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I mean, at least <i>we</i> didn’t end up fused into the rock.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>I guess that’s true. Way to look on the bright side, Hector.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Hmm...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Now what’re you thinking?</i>’
<br /><br />
“I’m trying to remember the last time that I actually <i>saw</i> this thing,’ said Hector. “Because I feel like... I didn’t even have it with me when we went through the portal. Not that I knew we were going through a portal, at the time.”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-29626769059605737782024-02-29T03:00:00.001-05:002024-02-29T03:00:00.137-05:00Page 3527<span style="font-family: courier;">Hector hesitated. “But what if... what if it gives me, like, a crazy vision or something when I touch it?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Why would it do that?</i>’
<br /><br />
“I don’t know. Why did it fuse with the rock?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Fair point.</i>’ Garovel allowed a beat to pass. ‘<i>Eh, but I’m sure it’ll be fine! Go on! Touch it! See if it does anything!</i>’
<br /><br />
“Garovel...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>What? Don’t chicken out on me now. Where are those massive iron balls of yours, all of a sudden?</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector sighed and chuckled at the same time. “You’re such an idiot, sometimes...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Like reaper, like servant, my friend.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Fuuuck you...” Hector did lift his hand, though, readying himself to grab the edge of the mirror. It was probably safe enough, he figured.
<br /><br />
He touched the golden paneling.
<br /><br />
Nothing happened.
<br /><br />
He gave it a second, just in case, but still nothing. So he grasped the edge of the mirror more firmly and gave it a tug.
<br /><br />
It didn’t budge. Not even a little.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Put some elbow grease into it.</i>’
<br /><br />
“What if I break it?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.</i>’
<br /><br />
“The more you say that, the less convinced I become.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Alright, I’m mostly kidding this time. Don’t break it yet.</i>’
<br /><br />
“‘Yet?’”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Let’s just have a little look-see here...</i>’ The reaper hovered nearer to it, looking at it from directly above now, straight into the reflection. ‘<i>Hmm. Y’know what would’ve been a cool power for this thing to have? If it let me see myself in it.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Cool and useless.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>C’mon. Being cool is its own use.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector decided to raise his iron platform a bit higher in order to join the reaper in looking into it. As one might’ve expected, he could indeed see himself in it.
<br /><br />
Huh. So that was what his helmet and pauldrons looked like from the outside. Despite how much effort he’d put into making it, he hadn’t actually bothered to check what this new dark armor looked like in a mirror yet.
<br /><br />
Pauline had mentioned that it looked scary, and... now he could see why she thought that. He hadn’t bothered to add any ornamentation to the helmet, because the material had simply been too difficult to work with, but it had still ended up with a T-shaped eye slit, thanks to the faceguard, and a smooth overall profile that fully concealed his neck, thanks to the way it interlocked seamlessly with the gorget.
<br /><br />
And because of how dark it was, it made him look less like a person and more like a shadow. </span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-12929087531283495352024-02-28T03:00:00.002-05:002024-02-28T08:48:36.282-05:00Page 3526<span style="font-family: courier;">“How could that be?” said Hector. “And how do you know?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>How do I know? Because I was paying close attention, that’s how. Rathmore’s Materials are always of interest to me.</i>’ The reaper hovered around the mirror, inspecting the different sides of it. ‘<i>As for how it could be possible, well... the only explanation that I can think of is that the properties of the mirror interacted with the properties of the Gate, creating an unexpected result.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hmm. “But where did the mirror come from?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>You don’t recognize it? This is the same mirror that I had you grab during the middle of that worm fight, remember?</i>’
<br /><br />
Oh shit. Hector looked at it anew. The reaper was right.
<br /><br />
‘<i>You thought you’d dropped it at some point during all the confusion, didn’t you? You were quite bummed about it.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Yeah... I thought I’d lost another artifact of power, like with the Moon’s Wrath. Or if not an artifact, then something that we probably could’ve sold for a lot of money, at least.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Right. We never did figure out what kind of power it harbored, if any. But I think we can safely say now that there was indeed something more to it. Otherwise, it never would’ve gotten stuck on the Gate like this.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Huh...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>In fact, this is... entirely unprecedented. In all the time I’ve been studying Rathmore’s Materials, never have I seen anything or anyone modify one of them in any way, apart from Rathmore himself.</i>’
<br /><br />
Dang. “When you put it like that, this, uh... this seems like kind of a big deal.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>It is</i>.’ Garovel eyed Hector for a moment. ‘<i>Wow, buddy. All this time, I had no idea you were the most powerful integrator since Rathmore. Talk about impressive.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I--?” Hector’s expression flattened. “Okay. First of all, I definitely didn’t do this. And second--”
<br /><br />
‘<i>You don’t know that. Maybe it was your aura playing havoc with things.</i>’
<br /><br />
“No. I don’t accept that. That’s bullshit, Garovel.”
<br /><br />
The reaper laughed. ‘<i>You seem surprisingly confident about that.</i>’
<br /><br />
“I’m confident that you’re trying to fuck with me.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Heh, maybe. But we genuinely don’t know what caused this. I’m just having fun speculating, right now.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Uh-huh. Anyway, how do get it out of there?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Good question. I suspect that we simply can’t. It looks like it’s fused with the stone. But go ahead and try pulling on it, if you want. Maybe looks are deceiving. Maybe it’ll slide free, easy as can be.</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-51742532871449071302024-02-27T03:00:00.002-05:002024-02-27T11:03:47.914-05:00Page 3525<span style="font-family: courier;">‘<i>I mean, the guy was brilliant. I’m not contesting that. Even if he didn’t actually create these things, he’s still the only person in history who’s ever been able to affect them in any way. And my interest in his Materials definitely stems from that fact, at least in part. I just feel it in my non-existent bones that these things must harbor some kind of incredible power or secret.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Well, this one was secretly a teleporter, so I guess your bones were right.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Indeed.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector circled around the base of the Gate, inspecting it. The formation was simple enough at a glance. Two big rocks, one almost twice the size of the other, similar in overall scale to a small office building. There hadn’t been much opportunity to examine the Gate before, so Hector wanted to take his time now.
<br /><br />
He recalled Garovel mentioning that Rathmore had marked all of his works with a certain type of etching. Hector had seen it firsthand back in Himmekel, during the treasure hunt that ultimately led them to Malast. The etching had been quite hard to spot, though, nearly invisible to the naked eye.
<br /><br />
He looked for it now on the Gate, getting up close to the rock and squinting. He was a little afraid of touching it with his bare hands, even though it was almost certainly fine to do so. There was just a slight fear in the back of his mind that it might suddenly teleport him back down to the Undercrust--or to some totally random place, maybe.
<br /><br />
He was fairly sure it didn’t work like that, but still. A bit caution wouldn’t hurt, he figured.
<br /><br />
If there were any etchings on these rocks, then he wasn’t seeing them yet. It <i>was</i> quite hard to tell, though. He tried looking even closer.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Hector</i>,’ came Garovel’s voice. ‘<i>Over here.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector ventured to where the reaper was pointing and found something entirely unexpected.
<br /><br />
There was a flat object jutting out of the larger rock formation, about two-thirds of the way up to its peak. It had a golden sheen to it.
<br /><br />
“What is that?”
<br /><br />
Garovel was already up there, investigating. ‘<i>Um... hmm. Wait a second. This is... a mirror.</i>’
<br /><br />
Hector raised an iron platform for himself to join the reaper. Indeed, it was a moderately large mirror with a golden, jewel-encrusted panel. “What the heck? Why would Rathmore stick a random mirror into his Gate?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>He didn’t</i>,’ said Garovel. ‘<i>This wasn’t here before.</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-54438473342771727022024-02-26T03:00:00.003-05:002024-03-15T02:18:19.230-04:00Page 3524<span style="font-family: courier;">It wasn’t quite as impressive as he remembered. From this high up, he could see most of the forest’s edges in the distance.
<br /><br />
But perhaps he was being unfair. After having spent considerable time in the great Imara Forest of Lorent, this place felt downright quaint. Hence why House Carthrace wanted to preserve it, he supposed, rather than letting it dwindle away into nothing. Lorent clearly didn’t have such problems.
<br /><br />
The Gate itself was quite easy to find, too. Not only was the Reserve smaller than he expected, but the battle that had taken place here had left a giant hole behind.
<br /><br />
Which made him feel a little bit bad. He’d talked with a few different Carthraces now, not the least of which being Amelia, but the subject of their nature reserve and his involvement in its partial destruction had never come up.
<br /><br />
He landed with a thick thud, not quite as graceful as he’d intended, feeling bolts of pain shoot up both legs as he barely managed to stay on his feet. Thankfully, he regained his composure quickly enough, which told him that he’d probably avoided injuring himself, at least.
<br /><br />
The sundered battleground did seem to be recovering, he noticed. That was good. It looked like all the felled trees had been cleared away, too, leaving room for new sprouts to pop up all over the place. Or had those been planted by hand? Yeah, some of them must have been, if not all. A few were nearly as tall as he was already, and while he was no botanist, he was fairly sure that trees didn’t grow that quickly.
<br /><br />
Some pristine red flowers were blooming amid the tall grass, as well, making for quite a painterly view as he laid eyes on and finally approached Rathmore’s Gate.
<br /><br />
So this had the power of teleportation. In part, at least. Hector highly doubted that he and Garovel would be able to get it to work here and now. He wasn’t even sure what they would do with it if they could.
<br /><br />
But it did make him wonder if it might be capable of anything else. “So Rathmore named all these things after himself,” said Hector, recalling what Garovel told him before, “but they actually existed long before he did, right?”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Yep. Kind of a wily prick, that Rathmore.</i>’
<br /><br />
“And you knew him personally, you said.”
<br /><br />
‘<i>That’s right.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Doesn’t seem like you have many fond memories of the guy...”
<br /><br />
‘<i>Actually, I do. It’s just that I have some particularly horrible ones, as well. Horrible enough to ruin everything else.</i>’
<br /><br />
“Ah...”</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-45847540863019498182024-02-25T03:00:00.004-05:002024-02-25T09:59:15.654-05:00Page 3523<span style="font-family: courier;">‘<i>You should do something nice for him</i>,’ said Garovel. ‘<i>Get him a present for being such a bro all the time.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>What kind of present can I get for one of the richest dudes in the country?</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Beats me. Put some thought into it. That’s the part they say counts, right?</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Real helpful, Garovel.</i>’
<br /><br />
In the end, he decided to trust the reaper’s judgment about being able to handle more intense flying maneuvers.
<br /><br />
So he stepped it up, pushing for speed. He told Garovel not to render him numb, because he thought that pain might actually be the best way to gauge how much his own body was able to handle.
<br /><br />
That nearly turned out to be a mistake. Rather than pain, he found instead that he was struggling not to pass out.
<br /><br />
He was stubborn, though. In addition to no numbing, he also went without the undead vigor and regeneration, knowing that they would just leave him exhausted afterwards.
<br /><br />
He didn’t quite recall how much of that fight he’d done without those enhancements, but he did know that he’d endured the last part of it that way. Specifically, he remembered how much of a relief it was when Garovel invoked the regeneration once it was all over.
<br /><br />
So he knew that he could do this. These movements were nowhere near as intense.
<br /><br />
But why did it feel so much harder, then? Because the stakes were so much lower? Because he was less focused?
<br /><br />
Agh.
<br /><br />
Mind over matter, huh?
<br /><br />
He hadn’t expected the difference to be this dramatic, though. It made him wonder if he was remembering things wrong. He supposed training simply didn’t compare to the real thing.
<br /><br />
The flying practice wasn’t meant to be fun, but as they sailed over the capital city of Sescoria, catching glimpses of famous buildings and landmarks, Hector couldn’t help wanting to take in the view a little more.
<br /><br />
He made sure to gain plenty of altitude, though. No sense in spooking people on the ground by flying too low.
<br /><br />
When he saw Bosliat Palace, he knew they were making good time and decided to slow down a bit to admire it. The place looked completely different from above. Being able to see the entire breadth of the compound made him wonder how Warrenhold might look from this perspective, if it weren’t underground.
<br /><br />
Briefly, he considered popping in to say hi to the Queen, but she was probably busy. And besides, he felt like she might surprise him with some kind of new task or request.
<br /><br />
So he pressed on, pushing for even more speed this time. It was about staying focused, Hector felt. Concentrating. Maintaining the flying armor wasn’t enough. He had to press harder. Remind himself what he’d been able to do before. The urgency.
<br /><br />
Sescoria quickly fell away into the horizon behind him, and soon enough, the vast forest of the Reserve came into view.</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-89125593039098115672024-02-24T03:00:00.005-05:002024-02-24T17:39:09.040-05:00Page 3522<span style="font-family: courier;">With Garovel on board, Hector was a bit reluctant to go <i>too</i> crazy with the flight practice. That last fight with Banda had been the absolute pinnacle of what he could currently achieve when it came to flying--and he was still feeling the after effects, even now. Aches and pains lingered from breaking every single bone in his body a dozen times over.
<br /><br />
He wasn’t sure the damage had ever been that extensive before. Thinking back, it was tough to compare. The fight with Harper Norez had been pretty damn bad, though. And the time he’d been blown to smithereens. And maybe the time he’d gotten dissected...
<br /><br />
But no, this time still felt worse, somehow. Sure, he might’ve built his pain tolerance quite a bit since back then, but the intensity of the pain wasn’t the issue. It was the stubbornness of it. He again found himself in a state of existence where it felt like he might never be pain-free again. Like all these dull aches were just a fact of life now.
<br /><br />
Was this how old people felt all the time?
<br /><br />
Goddamn did he sympathize.
<br /><br />
Still, he tried to push himself a bit during the flight to the Carthrace Nature Reserve. It was good chance to test his actual comfort level, now that he had definitive experience with being incredibly <i>un</i>comfortable.
<br /><br />
He kept checking in on Garovel, who’d tucked himself into the armor, but the reaper just kept telling him that he was fine.
<br /><br />
‘<i>Are you sure?</i>’ said Hector. ‘<i>I don’t want to bank too hard to the right and accidentally knock you out cold. Or worse.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Relax already, you worry wart. As long as I’m attached to your body, I’m unaffected by physics.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>...Is that really how it works? Kinda sounds like bullshit.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>You think I’d bullshit you about something like that?</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>A little, yeah.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Wow, buddy. What the hell?</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Or you could just be honestly mistaken. I mean, you’re not exactly the most safety-conscious person I’ve ever met, Garovel.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Okay, you’re the LAST person who can lecture me about that, Mr. Dimension-Hopping-Dinosaur-Wrestler. At least I’ve never needed to be puked out of a monster’s stomach before.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>...Wait, how’d you learn about the puking? I don’t think I mentioned that part.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Roman told me.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>He saw that?</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>He sure did. And judging from the way he described it to me, I think he might be scarred for life now, by the way.</i>’
<br /><br />
‘<i>Aw, shit...</i>’</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-39724923808220270772024-02-23T03:00:00.003-05:002024-02-23T12:49:36.437-05:00Page 3521<span style="font-family: courier;">Not long afterward, the two of them went their separate ways, with Ms. Rogers returning to her office in the Tower of Night and Hector going to grab a bite to eat in the refectory. He spotted Garovel along the way, chatting with a few of the other reapers, as usual, but decided not to bother him.
<br /><br />
Garovel soon found him on his own, though, and brought up a subject that the both of them had been meaning to find the time and opportunity to address for a while now.
<br /><br />
The subject of Rathmore’s Gate.
<br /><br />
The Gate was a peculiar location, deep within the Carthrace Nature Reserve, where a large, seemingly natural rock formation resided. The first time he’d visited the place had been during a battle for Atreya’s fate against a group of Abolish terrorists. The second time had been upon their return from the Undercrust, via some kind of still-not-understood teleportation mechanism and the newly ascended “god” Royo Raju. Or had that been Malast’s doing? Hector couldn’t quite recall.
<br /><br />
Regardless, they had been wanting to return there and investigate the location again, but it was starting to seem like they would never find the time. Hell, even now, when things were starting to feel relatively calm again, Hector still found himself a bit reluctant to go.
<br /><br />
But he supposed if he’d been able to justify a trip to Klein, then he could probably justify this, instead.
<br /><br />
It helped that Atreya was such a small country. And that he could fly pretty damn fast now with his armor. He wouldn’t need to be away from Warrenhold for all that long, and he could of course keep in constant contact with the castle’s guards and scouts, not the least of which was one Pauline Gaolanet in her roost at the top of the tallest aboveground tower that Hector had materialized.
<br /><br />
Plus, he didn’t know if he was <i>ever</i> going to be completely free from concerns over an attack. Even if the war came to an end tomorrow, that didn’t necessarily mean Atreya and Lorent were much safer. In fact, maybe that would make the Abolish remnants go looking for some softer targets that weren’t being defended by the Vanguard.
<br /><br />
Which was assuming that Abolish ended up on the losing side. The other possibility... Hector didn’t even want to think about that.
<br /><br />
So he decided, as ever, to think of this as another opportunity for training.</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3731978491355560966.post-30041434419114138132024-02-22T03:00:00.004-05:002024-02-22T07:56:53.749-05:00Page 3520<span style="font-family: courier;">Why was he getting the impression that she wasn’t being entirely honest with him, here?
<br /><br />
He supposed he was putting too much thought into it at this point. Better to let it go. “It’s okay, Ms. Rogers. I might’ve, uh... er... I think I might’ve been at fault, too.”
<br /><br />
Her gaze twitched. “In what way?”
<br /><br />
“By not being clearer from the start, I... put you in a bit of an awkward position, didn’t I?”
<br /><br />
“No, lord, you did nothing wrong.”
<br /><br />
“That’s kind of you to say, Ms. Rogers, but you don’t need to sugarcoat things for me. I’d rather you spoke your mind. I’m still new to this lording business, after all.”
<br /><br />
At that, the Stewardess of Warrenhold was quiet.
<br /><br />
Hector, finding that curious, decided to just wait for her. Perhaps she was thinking about what to say.
<br /><br />
And indeed, that appeared to be the case. “...In that case, lord, please forgive me if what I am about to say comes off as rude. I do not mean it that way.”
<br /><br />
Aha. He braced himself.
<br /><br />
“It seems to me,” she went on, “that, occasionally, you do not quite realize just how much more valuable your time is, compared to that of other people. I suspect this is because you are... humble in the extreme, to say the least. Which is an admirable thing, by and large, but there are also certainly realities of your station that should not be ignored, both in terms of your own scheduling and in terms how others are to perceive you.”
<br /><br />
That was a lot to take in. Hector chose not to say anything right away, instead just mulling her words over. On impulse, he wanted to disagree, but this was someone whose opinion he held in high regard, so he didn’t want to discard her thoughts here too quickly.
<br /><br />
She returned the favor of giving him time to think. But after a while, she decided to say a bit more. “But to be clear, lord, I do indeed think that you did nothing wrong in this particular instance, especially now that I have have given it more thought. This was clearly a more important matter to you than I at first realized. I will be more careful in the future.”
<br /><br />
Hmm. Hector was starting to feel like an asshole. But he didn’t quite know how, why, or what he might say or do to counteract that feeling, so he merely remained silent. Backpedaling didn’t seem like the right call here, either.
<br /><br />
Man.
<br /><br />
He’d thought he was getting a little better at being a lord, but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he barely knew anything.</span>George M. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02177281465439734445noreply@blogger.com0