Though the siege against Kirel Qircassia persisted above the skies in the Great Chu, Argrave was infinitely more engaged with the changes that had taken place within himself. He and his family returned to Blackgard, and thereafter to the mountains, enduring Raven’s constant scrutiny. Along the way, he explained to his companions what he believed he had experienced. But rather unexpectedly, he received contact from the source of all of this the moment his foot stepped back on Berendar soil.
“You work quickly. I thought we would again speak long after Vasquer had remembered that which she has forgotten,” Lindon observed, his voice bringing pause to Argrave’s step. “You walk a route that few before you have travelled. Only the dead, by this point.”
Argrave looked around, only to see that none of his people were moving. Another trick of the mind brought about by Lindon, but seeing it still made nervousness flourish in Argrave’s chest.
“Seems like the first order of business I have is shutting you out, somehow.” Argrave looked around, trying to sound disaffected despite the futility of deceiving the deity. “I was in the middle of something, Lindon.”
“That’s the second order of business. I’m sparing you the time you’re about to spend,” Lindon countered.
“You could’ve spared me the time a long time ago.”
“No. The terms of the treaty I forged were clear. I am disallowed to reach out to people unless they seek me out first, under extraordinary circumstances. In return, I am entitled to be able to perform some protective mental measures, such as obfuscation of my presence or that of the Gilderwatchers. I never expected to be able reach out to someone. The dictates of the treaty are so strict it was a wonder you met them at all. But circumstances are extraordinary, and you did seek me out. Dumb luck? Some grand plan? Shrewd planning in the negotiation, millennia ago? It hardly matters.”
Argrave poked Anneliese in the forehead to be sure she was still, then said idly, “By extraordinary circumstances, you’re talking about the changes to Gerechtigkeit.”
“I’m talking about Traugott, actually.” Lindon manifested before Argrave’s eyes—now a small serpent, comparatively, about twenty feet long.
“Him?” Argrave raised his brows. “We learned a little of where he’s been when we were travelling through the Tree of Being. What did we miss?”
“The glaring red flag. The Shadowlands,” Lindon explained, coiling his body until his head rested at Argrave’s height.
Argrave broke free of his companions, coming to stand just before the silver serpent. “I thought this would be about the Undying Soul he claimed, but it’s the Shadowlands? I’ve read about them more. According to Erlebnis’ records, they always appear when Gerechtigkeit descends. The creatures there are brutal, barbaric... but they’re not new. Even if Traugott did open a large portal, what’s the worst he could do?”
“You and he are parallels. You possess mortal sensibilities, but with immortal husks.”
“Immortal husks?” Argrave repeated. “That dream was real, then? And Traugott, he...?” His head spun.
The snake’s silver eyes flashed, and vivid memories rose to Argrave’s mind unbidden. “With Norman’s body, born of Sophia’s power, he had a template. Through experimentation, he found out how to mimic her power.”
He saw that inhumane workshop of Traugott’s hidden within the Great Chu as clearly as if he’d been there only yesterday. There, Traugott had made Good King Norman be born again innumerable times. It was only a small comfort that apparently Norman experienced unimaginable torment during this process. Traugott had claimed hundreds of lives worth of ‘materials’ in pursuit of his goals, and all without blinking an eye.
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