Unbound

Rogier Knacht returned to find the Emperor sitting on the ground.

The Alderman of Southern Korsk stopped at the mouth of an alleyway to catch his breath and fished out a kerchief to mop the sweat streaming down his neck and brow. He’d run the length of Watersnap Street twice over to get the Lord Governor and his coterie, and he could feel it in his legs and lungs. His Tempering was a weak thing, Uncommon all the way through, and he felt it in his bones.

The Emperor was lounging on the steps of a dilapidated residence, talking animatedly with the members of the Tusknights while that strange hound of his rolled around the dirt.

“—keep from their centers, and the Kings will not pursue you. Once they do, they are impossible to evade, even on the back of the fastest Avum.”

“So straight through gets their attention best.” The Emperor rubbed his chin. “What about overhead?”

“In a ship?” Uvan folded his arms. “They don’t work either. The Kings rip Manaships outta the sky—it’s why none dare travel the short path between Andiva and Amaranth. It’s also why trade in this city is underdeveloped. We can’t reach Levantier either without going south through Tavan. The beasts isolate us.”

Rogier ground his teeth. Unlike most in frozen Korsk, he knew the shape of their problems intimately. As Alderman, he had to fight for every scrap of budget he could to maintain Southern Korsk’s crumbling infrastructure. It was a thankless task and one that demanded every scrap of political goodwill he could muster—goodwill he may have just squandered on his rudeness to the Emperor.

I can turn this around. He’s amiable with the Tusknights, that means he can be kind. If I can get him to favor Korsk, then—

Well, anything would be possible.

“Alderman. Do not make such haste! These robes were not made for a mad flight across the city!” The Lord Governor lumbered behind him, fast but also in far worse shape. He, at least, had a Tempering worthy of his station—he simply never used it. Behind him trailed a dozen officials, Alderman from across the entire city, each carrying chests hastily stuffed with enough treasures to beggar Korsk even further.

Rogier cleared his throat. “Lord Governor. We have reached our destination. If you wait a moment, I can introduce—”

“Nonsense! Ah! Your Majesty!” The Lord Governor swept past Rogier and into the street, lowering himself into an elaborate bow before the Emperor. His fur cloak thumped against the street. “It is an honor to have you here in Korsk.”

Rogier and the other Aldermen bowed as well, lowering themselves well below the Lord Governor’s bent spine. Rogier’s Spirit boiled. By casting him aside so casually, it was clear the Lord Governor planned on claiming any victories here for himself.

“Happy to be here,” the Emperor said, not bothering to stand. His hound, however, stopped rolling around and fetched onto his small feet. “You’re the Lord Governor?”

“I am. I came as soon as I heard of your arrival. The activation of the Shadowgate set City Hall aflutter, I’ll tell you! Only one man would arrive through such an artifact. I knew it in my bones!”

“Your official didn’t.”

The Lord Governor shot a look over his shoulder and Rogier winced. “Not all among my Aldermen are as…practiced in the ways of Authority. I beg for your manifold forgiveness for the disrespect we've laid upon your feet.”

Rogier’s gut clenched as stone shifted, but the Emperor had merely shifted his feet. His young face was even smiling.

“No. Inconvenient for me or not, Rogier had the right of it. Despite my many protections, there is always a chance a threat has pressed itself through the Shadowgates. Slackening your guard would be unwise. Still,” the Emperor stood up, a swift, easy motion that put him a whole head taller than the Lord Governor. “The fact that you have declared messages through the Beacon as untrustworthy makes me question your leadership.”

The Lord Governor went pale. “I—you see, we could not verify the origin of the messages—”

“They were signed and sealed by my Chancellor. He even used a Skill to notarize the thing. What was confusing about that?”

The man was sweating now, and Rogier couldn’t blame him. The Emperor stared down at them all like judgment personified, his wide shoulders and dark scales as intimidating as his eyes that glowed in the faint shadows.

The Governor drew back, nearly stumbling when he ran into the Alderman of North and Eastern Korsk. Neither was any less pale. “W-We have no excuse, save that we were not expecting your visit, your Majesty."

“Had you read my Chancellor’s letter, you would have been.”

The Emperor didn’t unveil his Spirit, but he might as well have. The Lord Governor and all the Alderman—Rogier included—fell to their hands and knees.

“Stop that.” The words were a whipcrack, and Rogier flinched. “I’m tired of all of this. The Beacon is my way of keeping in contact with every major city in the empire. The letters we send through with my House Seal cannot be counterfeited. You understand?”

“I do, your Majesty.”

“Good. You’ll soon be visited by more of my people. Ambassadors and their escorts. I trust they will not receive the same reception I did.”

“We will celebrate their arrival, your Majesty. I swear it!”

The Emperor shrugged. “Just don’t start a fight. They aren’t nearly as nice as me.”

The Lord Governor’s lip quivered. “I-If it pleases you, Emperor, we have assembled some gifts for you. If for nothing else but to blunt the edge of our terrible rudeness this day. The one responsible is being punished."

Rogier tried to keep his scowl away from his face, but he could not hide the swelling bruise on his cheek. The Emperor noticed, and as strange as it was, seemed displeased.

"No rewards are necessary, and no punishment is needed. Your man was doing his job. He was…overeager. That’s not an offense I care about. I am just looking to move through the city. All I need from you is to be left alone to do so.”

"Of course, of course, Your Majesty.” The Governor lifted himself up, his bulk greater with his fur cloak, and gestured hastily to his Aldermen. “But let us please give you this. As a token of our esteem.”

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“No, it’s—” The Emperor cut himself off as the Aldermen of Northeast and Eastern Korsk hefted a Platinum Chest between them. The pair were straining, veins in their necks sticking out like cables on a ship, but they managed to lift it up.

The Governor cleared his throat. “We found this Platinum Chest within the bowels of the Nymean ruin, nestled amid countless coins marked with visages long since Lost. All of it is yours, your Majesty, given without string, requirement, or Oath.”

For his part, the Emperor was as shocked as Rogier was when the Chest had been trotted out of City Hall. The contents of a Bronze Chest would have been a windfall to the city, let alone a Platinum—whatever lay inside was surely enough to fund the operations of entire Territories!

“No one has opened this?” the Emperor asked.

“No. It was decided that all bounty found in the ruin would be held until the entire place had been mapped and catalogued. We are unsure of its provenance, only that beside it was the desiccated remnants of a vast beast, as if the Chest had been spawned within its heart.”

“The Mana Well was empty,” the Emperor muttered. “A Quest reward for its slaying, perhaps?”

Rogier didn’t understand the meaning behind all of the man’s words, but they sent a chill down his spine regardless. Receiving a Quest at all was a special privilege, but to have the reward be worth Platinum meant its difficulty would have been…Grandmaster Tier? At least.

The blue-eyed man reached out hands that looked more like claws and grasped the Chest. Immediately the Alderman holding it gasped in relief, even as the rest of them stared, open-mouthed as the Emperor hefted the Chest as if it weighed nothing.

“Fascinating. Pit, do you see all the—”

“Yeah. They’re thick like jelly.” The hound stuck his face above the Chest, snapping at the air itself. “Tastes nice too.”

“The dog speaks…”

Rogier rolled his eyes. He’d told the Lord Governor that himself, but it seemed the man hadn’t believed him.

The Emperor opened the Chest.

Shouts rang out from everyone present, from Tusknight to Alderman, as a terrible wind tore through the street. It roared down alleyways and across open windows, howling through thin recesses and wide thoroughfares, until it swarmed…right above them all. Rogier gagged, unable to breathe beneath its onslaught, until the air sparked alive. Suddenly he could draw breath, but awe stopped him. Atop the Chest, surrounding the Emperor and his hound, was a field of luminous ribbons. A river of light wound around itself in a mad cataract of illumination, all of it sourced by the opened Chest.

“Oh, wow.” The Emperor reached into the light and pulled free an object. Once clear of the Chest, it expanded, growing into a wide piece several strides long.

The Chest vanished with a distinct pop.

Analyze!

Rogier’s Skill shuffled within his center, a series of paper ledgers flipped to the correct index. It surged from him, encompassing the odd object in the Emperor’s hands….and slid smoothly off.

Analyze Failed.

Really? Rogier’s Analyze Skill wasn’t his strongest—perhaps if it had it would have pierced the Emperor’s amulet—but it should have garnered something from the object. To have it be rejected so thoroughly would mean that it was beyond anything Rogier had ever seen before.

“What—what is it, your Majesty?”

Rogier couldn’t believe the words came from his mouth until the man turned luminous blue eyes toward him. By then, his dismay could only brace for the impact of brutal, deserved contempt. Yet the Emperor smiled.

“A really useful tool. Here.” He swiped his hand and a window rolled before Rogier’s eyes.

Name: Crucible of the Grand Magi

Type: Training Tool

Lore: A training tool designed as a belt in order to free up the hands of the Grand Magi who would employ it to enhance their abilities at handling Mana itself. Enchantments abound upon its Scourge-leather and Crescian Bronze construction, woven so deeply into its materials that they are as much a part of the tool as the stitching. Used for centuries, the Crucible was Lost when their makers vanished, but it is a powerful tool meant to strengthen magi beyond their levels. Use with caution.

Sing The Woven Thread - Strengthens the fabric of the Realms for the wearer of this tool, providing varying levels of resistance to their every action.

Unsundered Hide XIX - Increases the durability of its materials, all but eliminating the chance of damage or destruction. Enhanced by the nature of Scourge-leather.

Crescian Resonance XX - Awakened material sings through the Realms, enhancing all other tool enchantments.

“Merciful Stone.” Rogier couldn’t believe what he was reading. The enchantments were unrecognizable to him, but even the Alderman of Western Korsk was flummoxed by their meaning. He, at least, could recognize it was nothing like any artifact he’d ever seen. “A tool to enhance a mage beyond levels.”

“How would that be possible? I see no stats added to it—”

“Perhaps this resistance is—”

“I would think—”

“Regardless of its use, it is clearly a potent tool.” The Lord Governor spoke over the lot of them, his voice forcing their own to silence. He turned a wide, unctuous smile upon the Emperor. “Korsk is happy to provide it to you, your Majesty.”

The man glanced up, as if just remembering they were all there. He frowned. “And the coins?”

The Governor faltered. “Ah-ah, yes. Those as well. You can take it all.”

“Thank you.” The Alderman set the remaining, entirely mundane, chests on the ground before him. They were full of gold coins, gemstones, and even rods carved from precious materials many could not identify. “In return, I give this back to the city of Korsk.”

“Your Majesty! Such generosity—!”

He lifted a clawed finger. “With the exception that it goes entirely to improving the town, its infrastructure, and getting people off the streets and into housing that they own.”

The Lord Governor visibly wilted. Rogier might have laughed had he not been scared of the Emperor’s dark tone. “Of course, your Majesty. It will be done.”

“Good. You can work with the Tusknights. They’ve been given a similar task.”

“They have? But they are among our finest defenders. This would only distract them from the threat the monsters pose beyond our walls.” The Governor licked his lips. “Without defenders we will be in this same position again, no matter how much we rebuild.”

“I’ll be taking care of that for you.”

“My Lord?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Very well,” the Lord Governor said through his quivering mustache. “Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you? Anything we could provide? Supplies, perhaps? Where are you traversing? We can provide guides."

The Emperor raised a hand, cutting the man off. "I don't need anything. I appreciate the belt. Now go."

The Aldermen, one and all, scurried away at the Emperor’s word, and the Lord Governor was not too far behind. Rogier tried to flee as well—he’d done his duty and had survived—but was stopped short when a strong hand snagged his cloak. He grunted, nearly falling, before he realized who held him.

“Your Majesty.” Rogier swallowed. “How might I begin to apologize—”

“I told you I don’t care about that,” the Emperor waved his clawed hand. Rogier eyed it like the deadly weapon it was. “I do need something, and I only trust you to get it.”

From the satchel at his side, the Emperor pulled a potted plant. "Do you have some water for this?"

Rogier blinked. "I can get some." This is my chance! “As much as you need!”

The Emperor inclined his head. "Do so.”

Rogier needed no other word than that—he sprinted off, uncaring that his robes dragged in the muck. If he could do this, then perhaps things weren’t so ruined for him after all.