Orphan At The Edge Of The World 22 Oew 21

Orison woke to silence. After having spent nearly three days of enchantment a.s.sisted stamina recovery with no proper rest, the rebound was mildly intense. The silence did what all the boisterous noises and goings on could not. With a steadily increasing panic, Orison drew open the window shutters to see the center square out front had a relatively orderly formation of men at parade rest while a bench that had been moved to the side had the now three disabled veterans in silent attendance as well.

In front, with Captain Nadir at her side, still as a stone statue, Droya organized her notes and addressed all the men. "Thank you all for giving me an opportunity to stand before you as we are today and hearing this month's state of affairs address. Captain Nadir, if you would please."

Bold and clear, Nadir commanded, "Consul Sentry Unit, Come to attention! Salute!...Rest!"

The pitifully small unit that would barely make a squad, stood comfortably as Droya reported, "For two of you, Specialist Cray of Evergreen and Centurion Calix, this will be your first formal address. For the rest of you it will have simply been a long time and I want you to remember the pride you had at your first because soon there will be a reason for you to be proud again. As a symbol of that pride, I urge you to use each other's given names and ranks during duty hours. The names of friendship and survival that you have earned from one another are badges of honor that you have no need to feel anything but pride and grat.i.tude to have but they are also symbols of a dark time now coming to an end.

"In a little over two weeks time, some of you will finally be given leave to return home. Today is a blank slate day. All past a.s.sumed offenses are wiped cleaned. Take these days to adjust your minds and hearts to behold the land of your birth as well as the friends and family that await you there.

"Legionary brothers Tulius, you have the choice of staying or finishing your duty under Praefect Medici. In either circ.u.mstance you will be afforded honorary patrician status and your children with have the rights therein at the end of service. This is an additional reward for your personal sacrifice to save the serving legatus of two terms before. For all those who had suffered losses at that legatus' hands be informed that he is currently serving indefinite consecutive life sentences in Gray Cliff. The honor of the soldiers who serve above and beyond the call of duty shall not be diminished for the unworthiness of their charge.

Finally and most importantly, a five clan a.s.sembly led by Clan Fvaris' shall begin constructing New Fvaris on and in the crescent and bay that is our neighbor. From all accounts, they are strong and stable. a.s.surances have been given that as long as no soldier or resident of this post commits a crime in the eyes of the ruling clans of New Fvaris, all hara.s.sment will cease. Revivalist, Progressive and Pact leaders have temporarily agreed to this truce in an attempt to allow New Fvaris to settle roots without incidence. The Fvaris Dowager will be visiting the consulate in four days. A lot is riding on a positive impression from this woman, including being given the right to promote our humble consulate to an emba.s.sy. Lets do our best to present her with the bastion of order, unbending will and discipline that has been the trademark of the Centerland Empire since it's founding.

"Oh, and before I forget, official payroll is reinstated as of today. Back pay will have to wait until the main envoy arrives late this month. Which, fingers crossed, will coincide with the finished construction of an inn, Centerland trade warehouse and government access port. I think I don't have to spell what that means, men... But remember, if you don't want to scare all the potential flowers away, be gentleman or find someone who accepts coin. Captain Nadir is capable of filling you in on military punitive law if your time here has allowed such knowledge to become unclear. It's going to be a rough few days to prepare but a good showing comes with high rewards so give me your best and I will give you mine... Thank you for your service and good day gentleman. Captain, if you please."

Nadir barked crisply, "Consul Security Unit, Attention! Salute! Dismissed!... Eat heartily at midday soldiers. It's about to get very busy around here."

When Droya returned and saw that Orison was up she asked with a broad smile, "I didn't know if you'd be up in time to see my first public speech. How was it?"

Orison returned an equally wide smile and said, "You were great out there mom. What was with the soldiers' 180, I mean, about face in att.i.tude today?"

Droya, momentarily confused and also slightly relieved, said, " I thought... Well, it's a collection of coincidences, it seems. After your performance in the sick room last night, the man known as Hammy died from complications due to his head injury. His friend, Legionary Calix and the two disabled soldiers that take care of the sick room all shared some kind of hallucination where a woman's voice told them 'When the child cries the mother always listens' or some such. All three claim that you performed a Silent Order ritual in front of them but no evidence could be found. The next morning all three of them were pale as sheets and weak as cubs until they got some fluids and a meal in them.

"You heard the part of the address today that urged them to hang up their nicknames while on duty? Part of the reason is because half of them are wanting to call you Keeper, as in the keeper of the gates who determines if a person between life and death will continue living or die, and the other half want to call you Dark Child. I'm not saying all of this is because of you but you're a good half of it. The other half is the letter from New Fvaris that was accompanied by an incredibly generous caravan of supplies that included mixes for mortar. There's also an Ashland architect waiting to meet you or more specifically, waiting to meet your golem. Apparently, one group of hothead revivalists wanted to get one more jab in. Only one made it out and your golem is the reason why three didn't. He wants to know more about it as the spell isn't a known one.

Orison thought, "I don't want to be called either of those horrible handles. They sound like bad party deejays... Here comes Deejay Keeper and Deejay Dark Child, b.u.mping and grinding their way to a community art center near you! Well, Deejay Dark Child isn't bad but I don't have the qualifications to rock it. Hehe, I kinda want to find someone who does and bestow it upon them with the holy task to save techno and dubstep."

Droya sighed. "h.e.l.lo, Little Cub. Are you still tired?"

Orison snapped out of his head and said, "Okay, yeah. Where's the architect?"

That first three hour meeting turned into a three day session of exploring every facet of the golem and it's capabilities as the crotchety old Ashlander worked him to near fainting exhaustion renovating the consulate and quarter mile land around it. The one good thing that came from having his mind and magic pool murdered on a daily basis was that under the old man's expertise, his knowledge of the model surpa.s.sed its static state. The sliding state nature of the model's malleable parts had remained a mystery to him until the old man had pushed him to discover them under duress.

At the end of the third day, Orison said, "So, did you manage to steal the model yet?"

Master Kretch bl.u.s.tered, "Wretched little boy, acting as if all I've done hasn't been for your betterment!"

Orison chuckled, "I'll take that as a no. Look, I don't mind. You did help me out a lot since I had to subtly change the model every time I cast it to confuse you and to keep up with your increasingly bizarre demands but allowing you to learn it from me in any way is technically treason because it's a controlled war spell. As far as I know, the original creator of the model is Court Mage Gerrald of Whiteriver. If it isn't him, then he knows who is. Since you could do a lot of good with it I'd really like to see you get it. Magic would be best off serving the betterment of people than finding new and creative ways to maim and murder them."

The old man snorted, "At least you know how to be grateful. You know, long ago, the ancient ancestors' most powerful spells were all related in some way to engineering and architecture. Their most treasured goal was not to own this world. They wanted to make one of their own. Too many of their descendants have forgotten this... Orison, if you push to reach the very heights possible you may touch the feet of their glory someday. If you succeed, I hope you can remember their lofty goals and not the ugly legacies that get paraded around by the hubris filled and power hungry."

Orison nodded and said with a saccharine smile, "Alright grandpa... I think your blood sugar is getting low. Lets get you some juice."

Kretch shook his cane at Orison and said, "Is that another one of your obscure senility references!? If we weren't under truce, I'd show you what for, boy! Even on my deathbed I'd still beat you down."

Orison raised a hand to his mouth in mock concern then started walking faster. "Deathbed!? Are you still catching chills in this heat? Don't worry, I'll fetch a blanket for your afternoon nap."

The old man bellowed, "Slow down, you little abyss larva. I'm going to tattoo some respect into your backside with this cane here!"

When Kretch thought Orison was out of earshot he chuckled and said to himself, "So what if he's killed a couple people and taken their souls, he's no harbinger or avatar. That old rabble rouser needs to lock himself in seclusion and ascend off this rock or die trying instead of working the rest of us up."

After saying his greetings to a few people, Orison made his way back to his room. Sitting on his bed, he looked hollowly at the wall until it was dark outside. He hadn't been sure but there was something about the old man that had put him on edge like no one else he had ever met. Playing the 'better than most but not by much' game with Master Kretch had been exhausting. All that effort and the old man had been playing a much more advanced game right back.

Orison thought, "So magical monk world police are real...At least some form of them. Not only that but I've somehow pinged their radar. So crafty for the old man to blow his own cover just to warn me. Well, I got the message loud and clear. Your unchecked authoritarian group is above petty matters of good and evil on the small scale but if I step over an invisible line I get squashed.

"See, this-this right here is a paranoid schizophrenic's worst nightmare. I won't focus on what they might know. I'll just stick to what I believe they don't. I don't think they can read my thoughts, at least not unconditionally. They probably know what I can do but not what I have, a small but important difference. Any other thought on the matter is going to be drowned out by annoying, repet.i.tive children's songs until I fall asleep. Cowardly lion...Tin man... Mp3 player, I miss you most of all... It's not you, p.o.r.n, it me. I'm embarra.s.sed to be seen with you."

He had been asleep for what had felt like only a moment, when Orison was awoke in the middle of the night by a light pecking at his window slats.

Orison walked to the side of the window and whispered, "I'm a bit young to be getting admirers by moonlight. Who is it."

An unfamiliar sounding soft laugh came from the other side before he heard a return whisper. "Friend of the silence, we have have matters to discuss. A cursory tip for services rendered would be appreciated but not mandatory, unfortunately."

With suppressed reservations, Orison unbarred the window and shifted the slats to the side until the lanky man had entered. As soon as the figure was fully inside Orison closed the slats and sat on his bed, putting as much immediate distance as he could to the stranger without being rude. The figure, respectful of comfortable distance sat himself on the foot locker and leaned his back on the bedpost. The stranger pulled back his cowl, revealing a friendly looking Ashlander face with gold stripes in hair and beard that seemed natural rather than cosmetic.

Noticing Orison's curious observations, the Ashlander stroked his neat beard and lightly tugged once on a bit of gold fluff on an ear tip before he said, "Two consecutive generations of Bastet intermarriage left a bit of its mark on me. Quite fetching, I think...Oh, right. I'm Nub, Old Bastet for gold. More specifically for you, I'm your contact. I thought you might have a hard time reaching me due to your circ.u.mstances so I followed a Revivalist rumor and was going to use that as a way to get to you but who knew you'd slap together a c.r.a.p ritual. Between the tightened security and the need for a mission run, I've just been able to get back."

Orison asked, "Are you a, no offense, vampire?"

Mock surprise flashed over Nub's face before he said, "What gave me away?"

Deadpan, Orison delivered, "Hallucinations and signs of anem-er, blood loss."

Nub showed genuine surprise and said, "Now, I thought you might guess because of the side service I provided -You're welcome, by the way.- but blood loss?"

Orison nodded and said, "Most might pa.s.s it off as shock but even after they bounced back with some water and a meal, they were still pale for a couple of days. If you want to hide signs of feeding with light snacking your targets, I'm afraid you're going to have to take a swallow or two less.

"This is going to sound like an odd request but I've been wondering about something and if I figure it out, it would be a big help to meeting dietary needs with less volume. It would also increase the chance of being able to leave friendly donors alive to volunteer again."

Orison handed Nub six vials and explained, "There's not anything bad in any of them. Those three came from an Ashland youth and those three from a mature Highland mage... As I understand it, unless you're full, the hunger is a constant?"

Nub chuckled a little nervously but answered, "I didn't expect our first meeting to be like this but Grandsire Portia did tell me to expect the unexpected... Yes, the hunger is a constant but the closer to satisfied the easier it is to ignore."

Orison nodded thoughtfully and made a note after grabbing his stationary. "Since you can leave 'donors' alive, you must have practiced a good deal of control but how is your sensitivity to levels of satisfaction?"

Nub scratched his head and said, "There's some good material for ribald jokes in there I wish you were old enough to appreciate... Before I answer your questions and subject myself to old blood mixed with who knows what, would you answer me a question? It's a simple one... Why? Why would-are you thinking about asking to be sired?"

Orison said, "That's fair... No, but I have a feeling that it's possible my brother might be, uh, sired at some point. I'm not really for it but being supportive and being ready to help is what family should do, right? Besides, with you and Portia as examples, what am I supposed to do if I'm stuck somewhere with a hungry vampire who happens to be an ally? CYA, cover your a.s.sets."

Nub nodded and said, "Sensitivity is crucial to control. The opposite of...never mind... Time is important, so let's get through this and after we have our talk, you can ask more questions with that in mind. Small side detail, Grandsire Portia is strict on her siring rules so the last two of her first line have a lot of sentimental value to her. Consider yourself forewarned."

Nub took the first one of six and downed it, noting nothing out of the ordinary other than it being fresher than he thought it would be. The second caused him to lick the inside of the vial and smack his lips appreciatively, rating a low amount of satisfaction increase. The third made the vampire's eyes look a little less monstrous in the dark and he noted a barely noticeable euphoria.

After taking the fourth one he stopped and said, "What I'd expect from a small amount of mage's blood. Magic doesn't really help with hunger but it does slightly empower other talents... Can I a.s.sume, other than having a bit of magic invested, that five and six are like two and three?"

Orison nodded and the vampire asked, "Then may I suggest that magic won't have much of an effect on five and only intensify six a little? The reason I say this is because I'd like to mix five and six together before I drink it. It was a barely noticeable thing but I think that what is in two and three would benefit each other but I'm not certain."

Orison said, "Go for it. I'm kind of stabbing in the dark anyway and if it produces a solid result, then great!"