Sacrifice Mage

The expedition from Claderov was a lot smaller than ours. Maybe a quarter of our size. Made sense since they had only travelled a fraction of the distance that we had gone through. I wondered just how much of the Nether Vein’s obstacles they had gone through, because they certainly didn’t bear many marks of struggle or effort.

No blood in their robes and tabards, hardly any dust or wrinkles. More than suspicious, it felt annoying how pristine they seemed.

This was further exacerbated by how little time, relatively, it took to finally get to the Nether Vein gates in Claderov. I did spot signs and remnants of some chaotic battles, so my suspicions did abate. Still. Best to remain wary.

The initial meeting occurred between the leaders, of course. Se-Vigilance accosted the Claderov party, addressing them in a neutral but friendly manner. Lassikhio was significantly more reserved. Though, he had been taciturn since the end of the last battle against the Demons and the Tyrant, and I didn’t know what was up with him.

Their discussion didn’t last long, and soon, we were walking the last leg of our journey towards Claderov. We didn’t even need to wait for the engineers to finish the last station. Several members of the Claderov expedition remained behind as they insisted that us Zairgonites had “done enough” and needed a “well-deserved rest”.

It reminded me of the island of the lilies situation in the Odyssey, but I tried not to let my biases get in the way of finally finishing this whole trip.

Since the journey had nothing else going for it, I could only take note of the expeditioners from Claderov. A few Ogres, a Theoriceph, and a gaggle of humans. It still felt a little odd at seeing other human beings just happily existing in higher positions and stations in society when in Zairgon, they were all so… limited.

I had thought human beings in general had gotten shafted during the Rupture, genetically ending up with poor potential for manifesting powerful Paths. But that didn’t seem to be the case for the ones in Claderov.

It should have felt freeing somehow. Enlightening. There were human beings besides me who had noteworthy Paths, Aspects, and so on—there was Revayne, of course, but I meant more in general. That should have given me hope for the people in Ring Four too, like even if this generation couldn’t naturally gain power through the Weave easily, then maybe their descendants could.

And yet, all I felt was a sinking suspicion that whatever Claderov would end up representing to us, helping in that sense wasn’t it.

The gate was already open. Just like with the Nether Vein for us, the metal links making up the gate had sunk into the cavern walls, leaving an opening that could have easily accommodated a cruise liner.

It felt like stepping out into the sun after a long time underground, which was kind of true despite how lacking the sun was on Ephemeroth. But my spirit definitely felt lighter outside.

My assumption was wrong. Unlike Zairgon, the Nether Vein gate in Claderov wasn’t actually inside the walls. We emerged about a mile from the outer bounds of the city, a bit higher up on elevated land as the city itself was nestled in a valley. It wasn’t bad because I got a good look at Claderov from a distance, which I appreciated.

My first impression was that it was bright. Like if I was a traveller, I’d have spotted Claderov from miles away.

The contrast of a city of white stone and walls, glimmering with brilliant lights glinting with all possible colours under the sun, against a deserted, barren land was slightly harrowing. I spotted what looked a dried-up riverbed emerging from either side of the city, though Claderov itself seemed to have incorporated the lack of a river into its infrastructure.

Another little facet of the city struck me as we made our way over. The layout was dotted with a small handful of palatial structures placed at random distances from each other. Each one also looked far too individualized for them to have been planned, state-built structures.

One of the Claderov expeditioners fell back as we neared the city.

“I hear some amazing things, Ross Moreland,” the Ogre who had first greeted us said. “Ah, where are my manners. I am Gigor. A pleasure to make the acquaintance of an illustrious person such as yourself.”

I nodded politely, even though I felt like Gigor had come here with an angle. Or maybe he just naturally sounded like that. “Nice to meet you, but please, you’re praising me way too much.”

“Nonsense. If the stories I hear are all true, then I’m doing you a great disservice.” He smiled, his teeth like little bricks stuffed in his mouth. “You deserve a great deal more praise. But praise alone makes for poor conversation, however much it is due. Instead, allow me to offer you some friendly advice as we head into the city.”

His tone had changed all of a sudden, and I found his eyes glimmering knowingly.

“Advice alone makes for poor conversation too,” I noted.

The Ogre, Gigor, laughed with a low rumble. “You aren’t wrong. Nevertheless, it’s a starting point. You would do well to be wary of what you mire yourself into, Ross Moreland. But not so wary as to ignore everything entirely. Tangles are dangerous but untangling them can reveal something rather… interesting.”

That was a whole load of vague bullshit. But he was right, the bastard. It was a starting point.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “So unless you start making sense, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this conversation short.”

“The machinations, Ross Moreland. The plots. Everyone everywhere wants something, and often, they’ll want something from you. Knowing what they want is the key to untangling any mess you ever land in.”

“I see.” I looked him squarely in the eyes, even if he was almost half again as tall as I was. “And what is it that you want, Gigor?”

“Just that, if you ever end up untangling any knots you land in, you remember that I always wanted to be a friend.”

He gave me a short bow even as we were walking before heading back towards the front of the group.

“Slimy git, that one,” Khagnio hissed.

My friends hadn’t technically been a part of the conversation, so they had stayed out of it. They only spoke now that the Ogre was gone.

“He’s right, though,” Cerea said. Her face had a dark cast, like we had only emerged from the frying pan of the Nether Vein to land in the fire that was Claderov. “The Great Houses in Claderov are a lot more active and direct than the Great Houses you’re used to in Zairgon, Ross. I have no doubt more than one of them will be interested in you. And that’s not good.”

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Great. Looked like a good chunk of the city had it in for me or was otherwise far more invested than was good for my health.

The gates to Claderov—because it had huge walls with actual gates, which felt a little odd for a city that also boasted a functioning rail line—opened up and admitted us in. I spotted a few too many soldiers manning the walls and the gatehouse, and even lining the streets, all smartly saluting us as we entered.

Soon enough, and rather unsurprisingly, we were all boarded up into a much bigger and fancier train than any I had seen so far. With steaming hisses and mechanical grinding, we were off to our destination.

Honestly, I had thought I was going to have trouble relaxing and not focusing on improving my Aspects and Attributes and all that, with all the awkwardness of training in a foreign city. But it was surprisingly easy. It sounded obvious when I thought about it, but being in a completely new location was tremendously distracting.

Our first stop was the hotel we were supposed to be residing in. To their credit, Claderov was sparing no expense to make us feel like heroes.

The hotel itself was amazing. Its architecture fascinated me. I was reminded of both gothic buildings and Mughal palaces, the two styles somehow melding together into a satisfying whole here. It probably helped that they were made from the same kind of glazed tile and artfully carved grey-gold stone.

Then there was the stellar service we got. Free food whenever we wanted, staff on hand whenever we needed, and access to the regular pool—which was luxurious enough in this world—and a milk pool of all things. Why… anyone preferred that, I had no clue.

But the idea was that we’d spend some time resting, recuperating, and enjoying everything Claderov had to offer while they finished up preparing the rail line.

We would then head back home on the first train to run all the way between Zairgon and Claderov.

It still felt rather off to me that we were creating a rail line that ran through the Nether Vein. Sure, the Klevacite seemed to be highly effective at warding off any malicious attention from the Monumental Opus, but still. To me, it was still a massive safety hazard. We had already seen the Nether Vein plotting, adapting, cunningly throwing up all sorts of obstacles.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole train business stopped within weeks of starting due to a completely foreseen disaster.

But it wasn’t much of my concern. Plus, it was relieving that initial stages of the implementation would absolutely not include any regular passengers. It was for transporting goods and important personages who needed to travel fast.

Forgetting the train business, I focused on my stay in Claderov. I didn’t even get to spend time at the hotel. With my limited time in the city, I readily agreed to Cerea’s offer of showing us around town. Right. I had almost forgotten that she was a native of Claderov, and I was now curious what her home here was like.

Which we were apparently going to see soon. Right after we checked out fancy locations like the telescope at the edge of a lake that allowed us to peer into the water’s murky depths.

“I didn’t even know fish like that could exist,” Khagnio murmured.

While I hadn’t been surprised at the existence of pufferfish, I supposed it made sense it would be an amazing sight for others. Fish alone was such a rare idea on Ephemeroth, so of course, fish that looked even a little odd with weird properties to boot would blow people’s minds.

It was still a nice little experience though, and I made sure to thank Cerea for it.

We also went to the bazaar, where Cerea personally got all of us a few souvenirs to take back to Zairgon because we all looked like we “missed Zairgon so much that we would never again come back to Claderov”, which wasn’t far from the truth, honestly.

I looked down at the brooch of a star Cerea had gotten for me. “You really like it here, huh?”

She smiled broadly at me. “Well, this is where I grew up, Ross.” She looked like she had been about to ask or say something more but held herself back.

I didn’t push it. It was pretty obvious what was whirling in her head, and I wasn’t sure I had an answer that would satisfy her.

We also took frequent train rides. Cerea was familiar with them all—there were multiple variants of trains within Claderov, so we were never left confused about whether we needed to take the giant, barrel-shaped trains rushing overhead on hanging rails or the sleeker versions that ran underground.

Honestly, the more I found out about the trains, the more I was impressed. Cerea said the woman who had set it up was one of the first ever Vaunted of Claderov.

We visited Cerea’s home the next day. It was a nice little house on the far eastern side of Claderov, not far from its borders. The view from her balcony enthralled me—distant hills cresting and troughing, the diminished red sun sinking in between them like a fading fireball.

“This place is nicer than your Zairgon apartment,” Ugnash said, enjoying the drink of warm milk Cerea had brought us. Yes, I was starting to understand that milk was something of a… thing at Claderov.

“This is my home base, Ugnash,” she said. “Of course it’s going to be nicer.”

“You’re also right on the border between the two nearby Houses.” Khagnio raised his brows questioningly. “What are you really trying to do here, straddling the edge like this?”

As we had spent time in Claderov, I had slowly learned more about it. The seemingly haphazard locations of the palaces I had noted earlier made sense in the historical context.

Unsurprisingly, the Great Houses of Claderov were terribly competitive against one another. So much so that they had carved up the whole city into areas of influence where they held sway. If I had thought that the lowkey rivalry between the cults in Ring Four was akin to a background turf war between rival gangs, then this was full blown territorial aggression between sovereign nations.

There was a physical divider between the areas controlled by different Houses, which was actually one of the main roads running through Claderov. It was an interesting boundary, that was for sure.

“I’m not planning anything,” Cerea said. “I just happened to get a nice deal for this place a few years ago so decided to splurge on it a bit. And it’s perfectly fine too. There hasn’t been any disturbances or anything, mostly because we’re kind of far from the heart of the city.”

That there were disturbances was totally unsurprising.

Cerea looked at us all challengingly, like she was silently daring us to counter her, even if all we had were assumptions and suspicions. Khagnio fell right for it.

He hissed out a harrumph. If I hadn’t heard it, I’d never have thought those two sounds could lead into one another. “Yes, well, some of us aren’t exactly at home here.”

Cerea rolled her eyes.

We had a nice little chat at her place. It was inconsequential, discussing nothing of importance, just meaningless talk between a bunch of friends. I hadn’t realized how much I would go on to enjoy it. Pleasant company was, well, pleasant.

I was almost sad when it came time to leave. Ugnash’s grunts, Cerea’s frequent explanations and exposition, and Khagnio being a jerk as always made sure our little get-together never got boring, and I tried to reciprocate and contribute to the same level as the others. But we could only bother Cerea for so long.

She was, apparently, expecting guests.

“Guest,” Khagnio corrected with a whisper aimed at me. A hissed one that still reached Cerea perfectly fine.

“Sod off, Khagnio,” Cerea said. “Just because no one’s ever going to love you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have love lives.”

Khagnio scowled at her, before realizing he didn’t have anything to counter her with. He was terribly single.

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised Cerea had some sort of romance going on. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to get tied down by things like marriage, and she wasn’t clear if what she had was a relationship, a situationship, a friend with benefits, or some other even stranger arrangement. I didn’t enquire. She seemed happy, and that was all that mattered.

But it turned out her guest wasn’t who she was expecting. Right from the knock itself, Cerea frowned.

When she opened the door, a human stepped through after asking for permission to do so. A human Cerea clearly didn’t know personally. He looked around the room, taking us all in, before his eyes unerringly settled on me. Uh oh.

“Ross Moreland.” His smile was brilliant, his teeth shining almost like they were mirrors. “Welcome to Claderov! Please, take this.”

I was a little reluctant at reaching out my hand towards a complete stranger who had just dropped in out of nowhere, but I accepted the very official-looking letter. “What is this?” I looked up with a frown. “Who are you?”

“I am Emissary Yan Atrin,” he said. “And you, my honoured guest, have just received an irrefusable invitation to the illustrious Great House of Atrin. Isn’t that wonderful?”