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Seris Vritra
I floated ever-so-slightly above the docks, refactoring and re-evaluating my current knowledge like clockwork. I was hyper-aware of Toren and Cylrit below me, each like a pillar of silent resolve.
I'd rushed to Burim as quick as I could manage after my scouts reported sightings of an incoming fleet–the reinforcements that were due in several days. But instead of joy and relief, this news only sparked concern and worry.
I had several ties back to the mainland of Alacrya where I received semi-regular updates using communication artifacts and intermittent messages. There was a relay of steamships across the ocean that allowed the transport of information from Taegrin Caelum directly to me.
The High Sovereign would not allow us to stray too far from his touch.
This could simply be a coincidence. Perhaps the fleet encountered a stretch of calm sea that allowed for faster travel. They could have braved more dangerous ocean currents for a swifter trip.
But I did not rise to my current station by believing in coincidences. Paranoia drove my plans onward, and this was no exception.
And there was purportedly another Scythe on the ships. I had been told that only another Retainer would be sent to bolster our numbers in the war. But that was also wrong.
It reeked of a setup. Of intentional misdirection. Someone had played me, maneuvering my sources of information and seeking to undermine my expectations for the war.
The wind stilled as the steamships finally crested the horizon, inching like inevitable dreadnoughts toward the Bay of Burim. Around me, what few troops I'd managed to call together as a welcoming party shuffled nervously. The sun hid behind blankets of clouds, as unhappy with this development as I was.
As the chugging sound of the engines gradually approached over the course of the next few minutes, the tension seemed to grow. The arrival of these ships was a silent message from Agrona to the pitiable Triunion Council: the war was going to begin in earnest. And everyone around me knew it.
A musical note brushed against my ear, soft yet serious as mana coiled. "Seris," Toren's voice said, carried by sound magic, "I'll do whatever you need me to. The last time such a confrontation happened, you sent me away to reinforce your needs. I want you to know that I'll do whatever it takes for you in this… confrontation."
Unbidden, a slight smile stretched across my face at the earnesty in Toren's words. Such an honest man, my Spellsong was. We had faced some difficulties after my earlier manipulations of him in the wake of the war summit. For the mage to place himself so willingly in the palm of my hand made something in my chest smolder with reassuring heat.
My eyes stayed focused on the horizon as the steamships coasted forward, but when I whispered my response, I knew Toren could hear it. "This meeting shall be different than the last," I said into the wind. "I cannot deny or brush away your importance any longer, Toren. Too many stories of the Ascender and the Sorceress abound for that. But I will need to maneuver you regardless."
I paused as I sensed a familiar mana signature rising into the air from the ships. Dark and ominous, it seeped like molten tar around us all. Not quite aggressive—not yet. But taunting. Provocative.
And as I locked eyes with the approaching Scythe, I knew for certain that I had been played.
Viessa Vritra dressed in paradoxically bright colors, the teal and white of her blouse making the shifting tides of her deep purple hair seem more ominous and consuming. She drifted like a wraith over the waves as she approached like a general leading the charge.
Viessa was the Scythe I was least sure of among them all–and I had no doubt that was by her intention. She practically puppeteered Scythe Melzri, and through her, the Dominion of Etril as well. She never took action herself, only using those around her to play out her schemes in her stead.
Which meant that her current approach heralded something outside my expectations and plans.
She stopped a dozen yards away from me, her eyes empty and devoid of any sort of emotion. The vertebrae of a dozen broken foes hung macabrely across her body, a living testament to her victories.
"Seris," she said simply, tilting her head.
"Viessa," I said in turn, my expression smooth as marble.
The other Scythe shifted slightly in the air, observing the lumbering masses of metal as they approached the harbor. Like great beasts of wrought iron, they cast shadows as deep as the towers of Taegrin Caelum as they vomited black smoke into the sky.
"Wonderful inventions, these steamships," Viessa said. "They make war so much more dynamic." She swept her gaze across the retinue gathered behind me, and she focused with eerie intensity on Toren.
"And it seems everyone is here to welcome me to this battlefront," she said, smiling in a manner that was almost sweet. The way her eyes seemed to shine as they centered on Toren made unease grow in my gut. "I'll need to get well-acquainted with the lessers of this city once my troops occupy it."
"That won't be necessary," I countered sharply, rising slightly. I couldn't afford to rebuff my Truacian counterpart too quickly, lest she perceive weakness or an avenue of attack. But I also could not let her exert her authority without reprisal over my territory. "I have spent the last several days making preparations for your arrival," I said, giving no indication of my surprise at her presence in this war. "The Isle of the Earthmother will be your staging ground, and you will find food and shelter for your troops there."
Viessa was silent for a moment as she finally turned her attention back to me. "Are you saying that we cannot land here, on our shores?" she said with a subtle downturn of her lips that was almost a sneer.
"Of course not," I countered, a carefully crafted smirk deflecting Viessa's scowl. "But I have spent the last several weeks turning that island into an unassailable fortress precisely for this moment." I shook my head slowly. "If you wish for something more lavish, I'm certain it can be arranged."
Viessa sighed dramatically, finally lowering slightly in the air. From the edges of my perception, I noticed two significant mana signatures within the hulls of the nearby ships. Two Retainers instead of just one.
The Truacian Scythe's empty eyes gave nothing away as I shifted my focus. "Cylrit, you will assist our reinforcements in their landing and ensure they follow customs. Give them the courtesy that befits Sehz-Clar."
Cylrit bowed deeply. "As you command, my master," he said sharply, before hovering toward the approaching ships.
"Toren Daen," I said next, turning my attention to the deft musician, "you will inform our dwarven allies of these new arrivals. Ensure they do not misstep."
Toren pieced apart my meaning swiftly enough. He didn't bow low in subservience as Cylrit had, but he did give me a respectful nod. "Of course, Seris," he said, before lifting into the air under the effects of the ambient mana. He flew back toward the cavern with a grace and ease that belied the recency of his ascension to the white core.
I turned back to Viessa, taking note of her expression as she watched Toren fly away. Her brows furrowed slightly in surprise as he went, but she noticed my attention too quickly for me to pick apart anymore.
She was surprised by the fact that Toren could fly, I thought, marking this information away. She didn't expect him to be a white core mage. That means that there is still some information free of Agrona's clutches, or at least if the High Sovereign does know of Toren's current power, he has not informed his Scythes.
"You've learned to control the men around you well, Seris," Viessa said, approval clear in her tone. "They are all the same, after all, and we are women of power. I should know better than all how this works. I have peered into the minds of so many."
Her eyes lingered on Toren's back in a way that made goosebumps rise along my flesh. "But that's the thing about those simple creatures. When something more enticing shows itself, they'll turn tail so quickly."
The implications were not lost on me, and I actually chuckled at the suggestion. Viessa Vritra thought she knew people, but she clearly did not if she believed that all men would bow and scrape at the barest tease of flesh.
I do need to be wary of foul play, however, I thought, shifting my perspective of Viessa slightly. She certainly was not interested in Toren for the reasons she implied. I recalled that she had goaded Toren for his use of emotional music far back in the summit. Considering how hyperfocused she was on Toren, going so far as to direct Melzri…
"We should have a proper discussion on how we shall cooperate in this war, should we not?" I said, beginning to drift back toward the yawning cavern of Burim as Viessa schooled her own mild surprise. I needed to move this conversation somewhere I could more deftly control.
"Yes indeed," Viessa said in reply, moving to hover beside me. "I wonder what you have done with these lessers in the time since you've conquered them. They do need to be forced into shape, yet there have been very few reports found back in Alacrya of your movements after the capture of this… hole in the wall," the dark-haired Scythe said with mild disgust.
"You would do well to recognize the tenacity of the dwarves, Viessa," I chided lightly as we drifted into the cavern. The hanging lavaducts glowed slightly in the darkness as red-hot molten rock flowed along a hundred crisscrossing pathways. "A war is lost when the enemy is underestimated."
I could read nothing from Viessa's grave-cold face as she inspected the cavern of Burim. "There is a difference between facing a worthy foe and pushing aside diseased apes," she said disdainfully. "You know this of course, don't you?"
I affected a sigh as we neared the Divot. "Your previous Retainer, Jagrette, thought the same, and she paid for it," I countered simply. "We all know what became of her corpse. These Dicathians are more tenacious than they let on."
Viessa went silent as we touched down on one of the landing areas. I should have felt a measure of satisfaction from winning the verbal spar, but I knew I couldn't afford to perceive that as a victory.
The battle hadn't yet begun.
The trek to my quarters was short and swift. The Divot was staffed nearly entirely with Alacryan troops and servants, and they all shied away and bowed their heads as Viessa and I strode through the halls.
I knew the Scythe could pick apart minds with one of her runes, but I didn't know the range or power it held. Nonetheless, I led her along a route that was purposefully lacking in personnel and staff. I wouldn't allow her easy access to the thoughts of my troops.
When we entered my chambers, I waved my hand absently. Fires bloomed around the room as mana-imbibed artifacts responded to a flex of my will, and the lavish room was awash with dim orange light. I fondly remembered the night I'd spent here with Toren not long ago as he'd finally told me of his secrets.
But not all of them.
I forced those thoughts aside as I slid into the chaise lounge comfortably, raising a brow as Viessa sat in an opposing chair. A short table separated us, and packets of tea leaves and cups were prepared in advance.
"It is a dim and dark place," I said, "but not unwelcoming, once you adjust. The dwarves have adapted their primitive technology quite well to suit their needs."
Viessa focused on the fire lamps, clicking her tongue. I could tell she wanted to say something scathing about the artifacts, but she'd already lost that battle of wits. "You've made yourself quite the little kingdom here," she said instead. "Complete with subjects and all. I never dipped my fingers too deeply into the politics of Sehz-Clar, but this is very different, isn't it?"
That was a lie. Viessa was a creature of politics and manipulation, and she'd muddied the waters of more political cases than I could count. I pushed and prodded at the goings-on of Truacia often enough, but I was far more subtle. "This is war, Viessa," I said simply. "War at the behest of our High Sovereign. I wouldn't dare fail him."
Viessa laughed lightly as she shifted in her chair. Her makeup was pristine and perfect in the low light, but the pose she took seemed more and more artificial the longer I inspected her. Her motions were fluid, certainly, but they were a predetermined kind of movement. Like she'd practiced the exact placement of each of her fingers across her lap a hundred times.
It wasn't graceful, but mechanical.
"And you've already experienced losses," Viessa said, her dark lips pursing. "My Jagrette fell so soon in battle, and then was used like some sort of puppet to prop up the false hopes of this continent's petty nobles," she said, no doubt aware of the hypocrisy of her statement.
She controlled corpses, after all.
"My victories have been far more substantial than any loss," I said easily, stretching my arms out and inspecting the dark paint on my nails. "The High Sovereign's conquest of Darv is proceeding at an exceptional pace. My victories are his victories, of course, and I would offer nothing less."
"Yet I see no Alacryan troops in the streets," Viessa said in turn, crossing one leg over the other in a way that highlighted the pale skin of her thighs. "This city is hardly conquered, is it? The lesser rebels are the ones who took it, not you."
I raised a silver brow, smiling coyly. "A feat worthy of presenting before the High Sovereign, no? To turn our enemies against themselves. A pack of wolves cannot hunt if they are tearing at each other's throats." I gestured to the low table between us, noting the tea leaves ready to strain. "I've been waiting for you for some time," I lied. "Care to share a cup with me?"
Viessa leaned forward, grabbing one of the packets of leaves. She inspected it critically, that default grave-blank stare returning. The Scythe was like a doll–one who felt and cared for nothing, but had mastered the art of pretending to be human. "No, I don't drink things like this, Seris," she said. "Should you bring me a cup of the lesser's blood, then maybe I'd consider it."
I couldn't tell whether the purple-haired Scythe was making an attempt at humor or was serious. I suspected it was both. "Very well then. I think it's high time we spoke of what's to come in this war."
"I've been assigned leadership of the front of the Beast Glades," Viessa said simply, darkening my mood. "I'll be moving there shortly to replace the incompetent that was Retainer Uto." She clicked her tongue. "With how many Victoriad duels he won, I would have thought the brute would be able to put up a fight against a petty lesser. But it just goes to show that not all of us are worthy of the Sovereign's blood."
I felt a grim amusement at Viessa's dismissive tone. Uto was a crass monster, and I'd savored piercing his core. None could be more deserving of the torture the Triunion Council had in store. But I also felt a deep uncertainty as my thoughts caught on another bit of information. "The Beast Glades, you say?" I pressed. "I've been maintaining control and progressing our operations there smoothly for some time. What warrants this change?"
Wolfrum Redwater, as far as I was aware, was still at large in the Beast Glades. My network had lost track of him and the remnants of the Bastards Victorious as they'd disappeared into the forests, but I knew deep in my core that they were still alive. And though Wolfrum had no concrete proof of my plans, just the hint of them could make certain people peer too deeply at things they shouldn't.
I couldn't let Viessa take control of these operations.
"The High Sovereign himself set me on this path," Viessa said with a blank expression. "He's ready to enter the next phase of this war, Seris, and that means that plans will evolve and change with the times."
Those words caused a chill to flow through my body. I openly frowned as I gave myself time to process this new information. Agrona's plans had changed? They did that often enough, but there was something ominous deep in my gut that told me this was different. I imagined the vise-like grip of Agrona's gray hand as it slowly squeezed Dicathen of blood, siphoning everything away into his maw.
Viessa couldn't be allowed to lay her claws on Wolfrum Redwater, but neither could I defy a direct order from Agrona himself. There was a fine line I needed to thread, but–
"You're expressive, Seris," Viessa said, a false amusement pervading her voice. "So much more so than ever before. It's so strange, seeing you frown and look discontented."
I focused on my Truacian counterpart once more, tilting my head at her words. I needed more time to think of a plan to counteract her orders, and she'd just provided me with a perfect distraction. "Interesting that you should say that, Viessa," I said, raising a single brow. "I can hardly say the same for you. When I see you, I wonder how much is wax sculpture and how much is true flesh from the expressions on your painted face."
Viessa's eyes narrowed deliberately, and I thought I'd struck a nerve. Good. "Oh, Seris. You're so used to knowing everything. Ever since you emerged onto the stage of this continent from under our High Sovereign's cloak so long ago, you've thought of yourself as someone truly worthy of his blood," the teal-cloaked Scythe sighed. "I do wonder what will be painted across your face as this war progresses. There are things in store that I'm sure will surprise even you. Agrona has great plans for this continent, and we're all here to play them out."
Viessa's words lingered in the air like razor wire as they settled in. Inadvertently, I found myself reliving old memories. Memories from nearly a century ago, where I'd faced Agrona and the Sovereign of Sehz-Clar regularly. Where they pushed and pushed and–
I moved myself away from the memories with the clinical precision of one who regularly ignored a tear in a dress or a spot of dark paint on a canvas of vivid colors. I could quell old, glaring wounds with ease. I'd done it for decades.
But as I forced myself away from those memories, a more nauseating possibility settled into place. The Scythe across from me was taunting in her little way. Trying to tease at my ego.
And I'd assumed that the arrival of a Scythe and two Retainers was a deliberate deception to throw my plans into disarray. I was still certain of that: but I'd assumed the source was the doll-faced Scythe across from me. But she wasn't touting her arrival and actions as her own.
But if it was the High Sovereign intentionally suppressing information from reaching me…
"None of us can foresee His plans in full," I said at last, choosing my words carefully. "But even so, there must be rules between us, Viessa. I will deliver my reports and information on the Beast Glades to you, along with a catalog of all that I've done so far so that you may more efficiently carry on."
I inspected my nails in the low firelight, noting the dark paint. Toren seemed to like the aesthetic, as did I, so I'd been making an effort to dress myself accordingly.
If you were in the room with this mannequin, I thought as I internally rehearsed my next sentence, what would you be able to divine, my Spellsong?
Rumors said Viessa was broken. Haunted whispers told of nights in a dungeon spent under Sovereign Orlaeth's thought-melding touch in a swath of cruel experiments. I wondered, absently, what part of the Truacian Scythe's mind Orlaeth broke like a toy.
I would need to keep Toren close in my future political engagements–for more reasons than one. His ability to decipher the emotions of others was invaluable, and though I'd intentionally sent him away this particular time, it wouldn't be so moving forward. I wondered if those rumors held weight, after all.
"You are to take command of the Beast Glades, but my focus is still on the land of the dwarves. If we wish for a smooth victory, then there must be an agreement of noninterference between us as we enact our designs in the High Sovereign's name." I lowered my hand, peering at Viessa. "I assume this is acceptable?"
Viessa watched me with eerie intensity. "As you say, Seris," she said. "Already, Dominions are starting to form. How quickly this continent conforms to the designs of our god… It is interesting, once you start to notice the patterns. Noninterference it is, then."
I smiled slightly. We both may have agreed to noninterference, but what we had truly agreed on was to make all of our interferences subtle and disguisable. Viessa's comparison to Dominions was apt. Outwardly, political interference between domains was outlawed and heavily punished.
That just meant you couldn't be caught.
I unfolded my legs as I gradually stood, sensing this conversation was coming to an end. "I wish you luck in your endeavors, Viessa," I lied to the purple-haired necromancer. "It seems this war will be progressing faster than I had anticipated."
Viessa's smile was like the corpses that followed in her wake. The vertebrae that adorned her body rattled and shook as she stood in turn. "Indeed, Seris," she said primly. "I cannot wait to see how the stage plays out."