Chapter 462
The idea of an elemental catalyst buzzed in Nick’s mind as he left Ogden’s shop.
If he could find an appropriate medium, he could weave fire and water, or wind and kinetic force, without them tearing each other apart. It was a puzzle that would require effort and dangerous trial and error, something he would save for the long days on the road ahead. But now that he’d seen it done, he knew it was possible.
Conceptually, it’s not so difficult, but something tells me it won’t be as easy as finding the right emotion.
For now, however, he had a few loose ends to tie up.
He headed toward the southern outskirts, where the noise of the expanding town faded. As he approached Arthur's secluded property, the crack of practice swords clashing rang in his ears.
Knowing that a stealthy approach wouldn’t be appreciated, Nick walked openly, letting his boots crunch loudly on the dirt path to announce his arrival.
The clashing stopped as soon as he reached the property’s boundary.
Arthur caught his granddaughter’s blade with the flat of his own, expertly halting her momentum. He didn't look back, but his posture shifted, and he pointed toward the farmhouse’s front door.
“Get started on lunch, Rose," Arthur instructed, though his voice held an unyielding edge. “We are done for the morning.”
The girl looked disappointed but stepped back and sheathed her sword. She glanced over her shoulder, spotted Nick walking up the path, then sighed and hurried up the porch steps, slipping inside the house.
Nick stopped a few paces from the training yard. It was highly suspicious to hide the girl the moment he arrived, but he kept his expression neutral.
Curiosity prodded him, and an instinctive flare of [Empyrean Intuition] washed over the retreating girl just before the door closed.
Her soul was striking. She had grown significantly stronger since their last brief encounter, and he had no doubt her level had risen as well. But it was the flavor of her mana that truly caught his attention. It carried a strange signature that didn't neatly fit into any of the standard elemental categories he had studied, nor did it seem as one-dimensional as most warriors’.
Before he could analyze the intricate signature further, Arthur stepped directly into his line of sight.
His expression was carefully blank, but his aura hummed with the tension of a coiled spring. This was a clear boundary line drawn in the dirt: he did not want Nick to look into his granddaughter.
Since prodding the old man about his secrets would be a quick way to sour an alliance, and Nick had no intention of making him an enemy, given that he’d come to ask a favor, he immediately retracted his senses, offering a respectful nod.
"Lord Nicholas," Arthur greeted, leaning his practice sword against the porch railing. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “I would have thought you’d be busy dealing with the consequences of your plotting. I’m no expert, but I do not believe building a merchant alliance is a simple matter.”
"News travels quickly," Nick noted. He ignored the fact that Arthur seemed to know it was his hand that had led the recent events, since the old man was one of the few people who knew he was far more than met the eye.
"Bah, gossip moves faster than wind magic," Arthur replied, crossing his arms. “You should have covered your tracks better if you didn’t want people to find out.”
“Sometimes it’s better if the enemy knows enough to hesitate,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I’m leaving soon, anyway. The whispers will die down.”
Arthur’s expression darkened slightly. “I hope you won’t do anything foolish, like trying to join your father at the front.”
Shaking his head, Nick explained. “I have matters to attend to in the north, but hopefully I’ll be able to avoid the dwarves. But I’m not worried about myself. In my absence, only Mother and Devon will remain here.”
"The town militia has grown, and Darien is capable," Arthur pointed out. “They won’t be alone.”
"The militia can handle a few bandits and mercenaries," Nick countered. "But Xander is returning to Alluria soon. That leaves only two people within the walls with the power to stop a serious threat. And quite frankly, the Temple serves the Temple, and Ogden serves Ogden. I need someone who serves Floria.”
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Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked out over the plains, a profound weariness settling on his face. "I did my duty, Nicholas. I just want to be left alone in my retirement. Have I not protected Floria when it was at its weakest? My debt to your family is paid.”
"It is," Nick agreed without hesitation. "Which is why I am not asking you to honor a debt but to make a trade.”
Arthur looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. "A trade.”
He seemed wary, and he had good reason to be. Though he didn’t know Nick was an Occultist, agreements with mages were touchy things, especially with powerful ones.
"If a threat reaches these walls that Devon cannot handle, I need you to step in," Nick said, dead serious. "Just until my father or I can return. Keep the town standing. Keep my family safe. If you do that, House Crowley will owe you a favor. Anything you need, no questions asked.”
Arthur studied him for a long moment. A favor from an up-and-coming House like the Crowleys was valuable currency, and given how shifty he seemed, Nick suspected it would be called in sooner rather than later.
He was taking a risk here. In truth, he suspected that if the town were attacked by such a powerful enemy, Arthur would have interfered anyway, even without such a commitment, but he couldn’t be sure. The next few months would be crucial to the survival of House Crowley while both he and his father were out.
His mother and Devon had proven politically savvy, which was why he was only asking for military protection. In time, he didn’t doubt his brother would grow strong enough to protect Floria on his own.
But that time had not yet come, and things could go very badly if someone took advantage of this window.
Nick was getting close to Prestige, and he had little doubt he’d met the System’s hidden requirements to take the step. Once that happened, House Crowley would have two such powerhouses and become much, much more dangerous for anyone to make an enemy of.
Of course, there was a very real chance he’d die. Ephor Ultimer had a contract with a Greater Demon and was a Prestige Artificer. No doubt, House Elpen’s revenge would be hard-fought.
But even if that were to happen, Arthur’s protection would give his family time, at least until Eugene returned.
That would have to be enough.
"A blind favor," Arthur clarified, his tone heavy. "To be called in when I need it most, regardless of the danger.”
"You have my word," Nick swore.
Arthur held his gaze for a long moment, gauging his sincerity. Finally, he nodded.
“Good luck on your hunt, Nicholas," he said softly. "If the wolves come to Floria while you are away, they will find me waiting for them.”
“Thank you, Arthur," Nick said as a weight lifted from his chest.
With the ultimate contingency plan secured, Nick didn’t overstay his welcome, sensing that Arthur was getting twitchy. He turned and headed back toward the town.
He made his way toward the lumber-processing yards near the northeastern wall, seeking the last person on his list.
He found Elia amid the noise of crosscut saws and shouting foremen.
She stood at the center of a tense circle, directly between a group of human laborers and three burly beastmen.
Nick hung back, leaning casually against a stack of cured timber, choosing to watch her work without interfering.
Tensions in the yard were running high. A heavy cart loaded with quarried stone had tipped over, snapping an axle and spilling rock across the main thoroughfare. Accusations were flying, with the humans blaming the beastmen for shoddy loading and the beastmen growling about the humans rushing the transport. Hands were drifting dangerously close to hammers and heavy wrenches.
"The stone is on the ground. Shouting will not put it back in the cart," Elia said, projecting her voice clearly over the din. She turned to the human foreman. "Take your crew and clear the road before the next timber shipment bottlenecks.”
She then turned to the bearkin, a towering figure covered in thick fur. "Take your team and fetch a replacement axle from the wainwright. This will be covered as an accident under our agreement with the Crowleys, but it’s no reason to make the damage worse.”
Her tone brooked no argument. The men grumbled, casting dark looks at one another, but the underlying threat of violence faded. The humans began gathering the spilled stone, while the beastmen marched off to secure a new axle.
It was a slow, fragile process. The integration of the beastmen into Floria's society was fraught with deep-seated prejudice and friction, but seeing them work in the same yard, with their disputes fairly arbitrated by someone like Elia, proved that the foundation of their vision of peace was solid.
It just required patience.
The mere fact that the humans listened to her, rather than demanding that someone else judge the matter, shows she’s making significant headway. Once, they would have ignored her.
Elia watched the crews disperse before turning around. She spotted Nick soon after and offered a tired smile as she walked over.
"They are getting better," Elia sighed, leaning against the timber next to him. "Last month, a broken axle would have led to a brawl. Today, it just ends in complaining.”
“I couldn’t have handled it better," Nick praised honestly.
"I am just trying to do my duty," she replied humbly, looking out over the busy yard. She turned to look at him, her expression sobering. "I heard the Valerius Consortium matter was resolved. You are leaving, aren't you?”
“Tomorrow’s the day unless something unexpected happens,” Nick confirmed.
Elia nodded slowly. "I wish I could go with you.”
"I need you here," Nick said earnestly. "You have control over the beastmen, and the militia trusts you. House Crowley has given you this authority for a reason, and you have only proven us right.”
"I will do my best to keep the peace," Elia promised. She looked at him, and for a fleeting second, her eyes seemed to lose focus, tracking something unseen.
Nick knew what was happening and resisted the urge to groan. A prophecy now was not what he wanted, but Fate was a fickle mistress who would not be denied just because she was inconvenient.
"You are moving past the shadow," Elia whispered, her voice taking on a detached quality that sent a chill down his spine. "But ascension will not come in the quiet. When the frozen throne burns and the blood of the past stains the snow... the crystal will crack. You will have to let the shell break if you want the light to embrace you.”
She blinked rapidly as she returned to the present, looking slightly disoriented.
Nick absorbed the cryptic warning, committing every word to memory. It was an unfortunate fact that prophecies could only be fully understood when they came to pass, but hopefully he’d be able to recognize the signs as they approached.
"I will keep that in mind," he said softly. He pushed off the timber and offered her a reassuring smile. “Be safe, Elia. We will see you when winter breaks.”
With that, he turned and left. There was another person he suspected would welcome a visit, but the confrontation with Marthas would have to wait until his return.
Someone had been tracking the Basilisk Core, after all. While he’d managed to handle it, he wanted to be strong enough to look the Prelate in the eye when he came to ask questions.