Book 2: Chapter 23: Oaths and Invitations

  [Time Remaining; 655 Days, 16 Hours, 39 Minutes.]

  The room didn’t feel cold, a fireplace provided a source of heat in the suite without even needing wood, nor fire. It generated some sort of heat in a way he guessed an electric stove might back home.

  That was the unsettling part.

  Everything was lavish. Thick carpets, polished stone tiles, buffed gold and silver trims, all to excellent taste. The doorway at the end of the main room led to a contained hallway as he had suspected. Each door led to comfortable rooms with equally lavish interior. Bathroom adjoined each bedroom with large clawed bathtubs and immense mirrors. But regardless of the visuals and the comforts, he couldn’t deny the fact that the rooms still felt like cages. Silken restraints, magical wards, and polite guards who never spoke unless spoken to.

  Even outside the suite, the entire place stunk of contrived civility. Like the sort of kindness one might give you by smiling as you slowly drowned in front of them.

  Alex sat cross-legged on the bed he’d chosen for himself. He meditated, breathing evenly. He let his senses drift just far enough to feel the ambient aether around him. The energy moved different there, The path it took here were tighter, narrower. Suppressed by design, no doubt.

  Obby had already confirmed the walls and floors contained enchantments which were nonlethal. Instead they were defensive in nature, protections and barriers that would nullify most high-tier techniques. They kind of enchantments that were sophisticated, and vastly expensive.

  But of course, a gilded cage was still a cage.

  Getting the sentient rock back was a relief for him though. Even if he had to see the freaky slender-man body that the rock insisted on still making every time they talked.

  He quickly brought Obby up to speed on everything he had missed since being locked away. The travels with the Terraxum soldiers, meeting with the King, the vote that would be held some time in the future. And of course, the System Oath that Malric had made them all make.

  “System Oath? Oh, yes those are very powerful. The most powerful, as they are made with… well the system itself.”

  He nodded along with Obby’s commentary. He knew all this already, but the little rock had no one to talk to for weeks, so he kind of felt sorry the thing. So as the sentient item spoke, he decided to look around his soulspace once more.

  Everything was the same as before. His broken core, the bond with Obby, both the same. The Wyrmblood Heart seemed to have gained some color and life back though. He beat as before, and its tissues were glowing again as they had when it had first appeared within his soulspace.

  The other change was a complex rune that seemed to be etched in the floor of his soulsapce. Where before it had always been blank. Either blank stone, blank shimmering water, or whatever else his subconscious seemed to manifest in certain moments, now it was not. The rune shown faintly on the floor, covering a large thirty foot circular area.

  He knew this to be his oath. Or a representation of it at the very least. There was the same in-bedded intuition surrounding its contents. The oath he had made, the rules and punishment involved. Things he knew already, but could look back at for any reason.

  “System oaths are not fool proof, no matter how powerful The System may be. There are always ways around things if someone knows what they are doing.”

  Oh I know Obby. He smiled as he sat on the bed. For example, Malric said that any breach of the oath had to be seen by a Royal familiy member. Meaning, if the Royal family doesn’t know what we did, or at least have knowledge of it, then the System won’t punish us. That also implies that one of the Royal Family members has to do something, signal the System in some way, that an the Oath has been breached.

  “Yes, that is true. The System won’t monitor and act on its own when being the judge of an Oath. That is between the two parties of the Oath itself. It certainly could do that, yes, but I think it doesn’t care enough to. Or maybe it’s taking its side of the oath literally too. Judge, not investigator or prosecutor. It lays down the verdict, the rest is up to everyone else.”

  Alex stood then, heading out of the bedroom and back toward the large common area of their suite. Exactly. So anything the Royal Family doesn’t know, won’t hurt them.

  There was also another very important detail regarding their Oaths. One that Alex kept in mind, but didn’t mention, not even to Obby. He left it as an idea in the dark corner of his consciousness. Later it might come to it, and he didn’t want to give the Heavenly System and heads up on his plans.

  He entered the area to find everyone else was already up. Allie and Holly chatted on the couches by the large window. Devon hunkered over a small table back to working on his aether crystals and glyphs. Henry tended to his plant, which didn’t look like it had handled the neglect of their travel very well.

  Others milled about lazily, drinking tea or coffee, or this worlds best equivalent.

  “Morning,” he said as he picked up a pastry from the large table.

  He got a smattering of ‘morning’s in return. The blacony gave him a wonderful view of the plaace gardens below. Despite their suite being on the ‘ground floor’, the back of the Palace opened up to an even lower area which sprawled for hundreds of yards. Gardens, walkways, pnds, fountains and many other decorations covered the area.

  He leaned against the railing and watched the few nobles, guards and church members that walked about below. The breeze tikled at his next and hair, refreshing, calming.

  “What do you think,” Eric asked, stepping up behind him.

  He shrugged, taking another bite of his pastry. “I think I might go and walk around down there later. Once the crowds lessen up. The line to ride the elephant topiary is a forty minute wait right now, scandalous.”

  “I meant what do you think about the, visits?”

  They came in pairs, not the soldiers, but civil inquisitors. Nobles, Merchants, Sect representatives, even members of the Kingdom church itself. Visiting them in their suite through almost all of yesterday. They asked questions in soft tones, always smiling.

  "How did you learn to use the System?"

  "Do your people have Core apertures?"

  "What does your world want from ours?"

  Alex gave vague answers. Honest ones, when he could afford it. He played the same game they did, polite, slow, careful. They pestered him, in the most polite way possible, about the world he had left behind. To what end, he wasn’t sure. But he refused to betray his home world to these people, and he had no idea what information was safe.

  They never asked about what he wanted. What they could do for him. That silence said more than any interrogation.

  “I think they are wanting to play a game,” he finally answered. He finished off his pastry before turning back to look at Eric. “Whatever this vote is, it decides our fate. These people, they are those votes. They are putting their toes in the water for now, testing the temperature. But eventually, they will want to see what we can do for them. What they would get out of giving us our freedom back, or keeping us as prisoners, or even keeping us alive for that matter.”

  Eric’s face drew into a grim scowl, nodding, “Yeah that’s what I thought. Its not ideal, how slow this is going to be. We are the ones on a timer after all. But this game has rules, and they are the ones in charge of those rules.”

  “Yes,” he walked back into the common area, Eric followed behind them. Kate and Zach had noticed their talk and were already walking toward him from other side. He settled in the wide seating area in the middle before he continued. “For now, I say we do the same thing they are doing. Gather information, gain intel, find out who these people are, how powerful they are, everything.”

  Everyone was listening at this point. Kate nodded, Eric gave a grunt that sounded like agreement. Zach said nothing at all and just picked at the collar of his silk blouse.

  They all wore rather lavish clothing, himself included. That turned out to be what the last two boxes crates were that were brought with their items. One box full of clothes for the men, and one for the women.

  It seemed that the Royal Family was not too impressed by the team’s choice in fashion. Which was fine, as no one in their right mind would turn down free clothes. Unless they were made but slave kids in sweat shops maybe. But he doubted that was the case, and the felt rather comfy.

  He currently wore a pair of black pants and dress shoes with a shirt in Terraxum colors of green and gold. They were made of silk, or fabrics close to it, and we wasn’t sure he could go back to the itchy cotton or wool of the clothing they had bought in Vrung’s Quarry.

  The rest all gathered, uncertainty showing on same faces, determination on others.

  “Once we have a grasp on the games rules, the pieces in play, and the opponents we are playing against. Then we can start making moves.” he said.

  A loud pop! Sounded off to Alex’s right. He swiftly looked over to see Devon holding a broken crystal in his hand.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Alex shook his head. I need some better teammates.

  And then, on the next day, he arrived.

  The prince was nothing like his father. Younger, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. Clean-cut, and elegant. He wore no crown, only a deep green robe woven with copper-thread runes. He carried no weapon, though Alex had the sense he didn’t need one. He could see the complicated glyph tattoos under the man’s skin. With his aether sight, he could see that these were without a doubt more complicated than any of the ones he’d seen on the other soldiers before.

  The military must get a reduced version of the Royal Family’s tattoo, because Alex saw a dizzying amount of complexity on the man. He had to blink and look away so he didn’t get to hypnotized into trying to decipher them. It would be rude not to pay attention to a member of the Royal family.

  The Prince didn’t bring guards. Just two servants who waited silently outside.

  He entered like he owned the room, because he did, and knew Alex knew it. Alex didn’t stand to greet him, he stayed sitting on the couch, waiting for the man’s arrival.

  The others all quickly made their excuses to leave. They all knew who the man was as well, and they knew who he was coming to see. The prince may have hoped for the meeting to be a surprise, but servants whispered, and it was hard now to talk about where the youngest prince of Terraxum was, or what he was doing.

  The prince walked once around the suite, studying the subtle lines of the runework in the floor and walls. Then turned to face him.

  “Alex Pierce,” the prince said lightly, vaguely amused. “Worldstrider. Monster-slayer. Alleged criminal. Future martyr or future myth, depending on how things go.”

  “Prince,” Alex said evenly.

  “You know who I am?” A lift of an eyebrow. A look that showed the prince was amused but not concerned.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’ve been paying attention,” Alex replied.

  The prince gave a small smile. “Good. I despise stupid guests.”

  He didn’t ask permission to sit. He simply did, folding into the plush armchair across from Alex, elegant hands resting in his legs in a professional display of manners.

  “You’ve made quite the stir,” he said. “Even before confirming what you are.”

  Alex waited, he didn’t bite at the bait. The prince tilted his head, studying him the way a scholar might study a blade.

  "You're not from a mage empire, are you? Not like ours. Your magic must be... crude. I’ve heard of your sparring matches with the soldiers on the way here, your fighting style. Your tactics are reckless, but they work. And your companions have no noble discipline, yet fight like seasoned veterans."

  “You came here to insult me?” he asked.

  “I came here,” the prince said softly, “because you interest me. And because my father sees only danger. He’s not wrong to see that, but he isn’t right either. You are an art piece that requires more understanding. But then again, as an old man, sometimes he lacks vision.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “So I’ll ask you something, Alex Pierce. Not as a prince. Just as a man.”

  It was a strange way to go about things, especially as a political maneuver. Alex wasn’t certain on the prince’s angle. The man was either uncaring of the general politics which he knew Alex was currently submerged in, or the man was a genius beyond even himself.

  Don’t tell me it’s another Adam. His hearbeat quickened at the thought.

  The prince suddenly spoke in earnest, deeper, but softer, “What do you really want, Worldstrider?”

  Alex held the prince’s gaze for a long moment. Then answered, quietly, “To go home.”

  The prince blinked, and for a heartbeat, he looked almost sad. “I hope you realize,” he said, more neutral now, “that might not be possible.”

  “I realize,” Alex said. “Doesn’t change the goal though, does it?”

  The prince didn’t answer, he simply mused over Alex’s reply for a moment and stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robe. “I’ll visit again,” he said. “Perhaps soon. The game’s already begun, after all. I’m curious to see how well you play.”

  He left without waiting for a reply, his two servant following closely after. The door closed behind him, and Alex was alone again, but the silence now felt different.

  More dangerous.

  The others reentered the suite’s common area quickly, they didn’t even try to pretend that they weren’t listening at the hallway door.

  “He seems like he is actually interested in us,” Allie sat on the same chair the prince had just vacated.

  Eric and Kate took places on the couch to Alex’s left. The other’s crowded around them all.

  “Yes, he might be,” Alex sighed and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “He’s a potentially powerful ally, which makes him an even more potentially dangerous enemy.”

  ***

  The next day was when the invitations arrived.

  A knock come from the door.

  It didn’t sound urgent or hesitant, just… practiced. The kind of knock that had never been ignored before.

  Peter moved first, opening the door with a kind of slow, smooth caution someone reserved for objects the expected to explode at any moment. A young palace servant waited on the other side of the door, dressed in silver-accented robes with creases so sharp they could’ve drawn blood. He said nothing as Peter starred at him, he held out a scroll.

  It wasn’t sealed with wax like all the old movies had led Alex to believe. Instead, the parchment shimmered faintly, cross-crossed with veins of gold and tied closed with a ribbon that looked like woven starlight. It was expensive, yes, but more than that. It was a statement, it was the type of item that was a status symbol in and of itself.

  After no one moved to take the scroll for a few long seconds, the servant bowed, and spoke in a way that crisp and melodic. “A personal summons from the High Crown. Attendance is expected.”

  Peter took the scroll, uncertain. The servant said nothing else and he didn’t wait for questions. The man bowed again before he made a hasty retreat down the corridor, his footfalls soundless against the polished stone.

  Alex stared at the scroll in Peter’s hands. No one reached for it.

  Eventually, it was Kate who moved. She broke the ribbon with a finger, and the scroll unfurled in her palm like flowing silk.

  *To the Honored Travelers of the heavenly System.

  You are formally summoned to the Crown’s Unity Gala, to be held this evening in the Grand Ballroom.

  Expectations are understood.*

  —By Order of His Radiant Majesty, Sovereign of House Terraxum.

  Kate snorted and tossed the scroll to everyone else so they could read it for themselves. “‘Expectations are understood.’ That’s not ominous at all.”

  Garret blinked. “So... what happens if we don’t show up?”

  “Nothing,” Peter said, “aside from dying in obscurity.”

  Devon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So its an order?”

  “More like a warning,” Allie added, in dry agitation. “They’re telling us the game has started. If we don’t walk onto the field, we forfeit.”

  Alex took the scroll, turning it slowly in his fingers. The light in the room caught on the golden etchings, not just decorative, he realized, runes. Communication triggers, maybe even passive scry anchors? He wasn’t confident enough in glyphcraft to decipher them, and Obby wasn’t able to help much either.

  He had been hoping his skill level in Glyphs would give him the upper hand in noticing enchantments. But he was disappointed to find out that [Glyphcraft] was not the only way to enchant things. There were many different enchantment skills, such as [Imbuement], [Arcane Forging], [Totemic Crafting] , and more. Or one could even use other skills for similar effects, such as using [Alchemy] by itself to brew an enchantment into a potion then pouring it over an item.

  Suffice to say, Alex nor Devon would be able to figure out all the items they may come across. The number of paths to power under The System was simply too vast, and the Kingdom had many resources at its disposal.

  He tossed the invitation back to Kate. “Burn it, it might be enchanted.”

  No questions were asked, and Kate ignited the parchment with her firebolt spell without a second’s hesitation.

  It could be said Alex was crazy for having their only invitation to the Gala burned. But he very much doubted they would actually need it to get in. Everyone knew who they were and what they were doing around the palace. And they would all know they were invited if they showed up.

  “This is our first look,” he said finally. “Not just at who wants us dead, but at who wants to use us. We skip this, we walk in blind for the rest of the war.”

  Zach spoke flatly. “No one survives a war blind.”

  They fell silent. Outside, the palace bells rang once, low, somber, ceremonial. Signaling a new hour. A new game.

  Alex looked up at them. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s meet the kingdom. We have a game to play.”

  They weren’t just prisoners anymore, they were players in a social game, and in the court of Terraxum… good players survive.

  And bad players didn’t.

  ***

  The suite had gone from silent to true shit storm in less than an hour.

  Silk and spellthread hung from dressing racks like war banners. Illusion mirrors flickered rapidly through minor-illusion glamour options. To top it all off, the air smelled like polish, soap, and the faintest undercurrent of nerves. Their gifted formal-wear, enchanted to fit perfectly, wasn’t supposed to need adjusting, but that didn’t stop Garret from muttering under his breath while trying to remove a gold-threaded cuff loop from his arm.

  “I look like a gilded hostage,” he said.

  “You are,” Lance replied as he adjusted a lapel with military precision.

  Across the room, Devon fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “Are we sure these don’t have surveillance runes?”

  “They do,” Garret said. “But only ten.”

  Allie arched a brow. “Just ten?”

  “Classy, really.”

  Alex stood by the wide windows, the city beyond painted in lowlight. He was already dressed in lavish suit jacket with long coat-tails. The fabric had glittering azure spirals woven over the entirety, the color expertly matching the blue dress shirt he wore underneath. His dress shoes shone like mirrors, hand polished to the degree of practiced military perfection. He hadn’t spoken for awhile. The gala was minutes away and the pressure hadn’t yet crested, but it was rising.

  Then the door opened without a knock.

  The mood shifted instantly as Malric Vaunt stepped inside like silence incarnate.

  No entourage accompanied him, no guards flanking either side, and there were no servants hovering in the shadows behind. Nothing followed Malric into the suite except for the faint whisper of his longcoat as it brushed the marble floor. His eyes swept the room once and the quiet hush of the room hardened into something... brittle.

  “I see you're dressed for a dance,” he said. “Good. But don’t mistake it for celebration.”

  The team stilled. Malric didn’t wait for permission to join them as he moved toward the center of the suite, each step poised and stoic. The way a man might walk across a battlefield that hadn’t yet erupted, a general stepping to the front to give his men an inspiration speech.

  “I’m here to ensure you understand the gravity of your position,” he said. He turned to face them fully now, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

  “In ten days’ time,” he said, “your fate will be placed before the Grand Deliberative Council. Each bloc will vote. Do not be confused in what this vote is about, it is not on whether you’re guilty, but on whether you are valuable enough to keep breathing.”

  The words landed like quiet gavel strikes in a courtroom.

  He tapped the blackwood table in the room, its glossy surface came to life with text and images. Names, pictures of crests, sigils and craftsman marks. All aligned in neat rows grouped together by some logic they didn’t understand, yet.

  “Noble Houses, five votes. They represent the foundation of Terraxum’s governance. They are old, fractured, endlessly feuding, and eternally proud.”

  He gestured with two fingers, sharp and fluid, at five crests all grouped together on the table. As he spoke, each house’s crest lit up breifly. “House Vaelros are military traditionalists. Loyal to the crown, but only so long as it serves their bloodline. House Duskmoor are shadow players. Trade, secrets, quiet influence. Most don’t speak unless they’re orchestrating something. House Thorneth are pragmatists. Warriors and wall-builders. Their loyalty is rented, not given. House Caerwyn, the courtly edge. They see everything as through a polished mirror, even their own ambitions. House Velcryn, archivists, relic-seekers. Obsessive about knowledge and magic. Dangerous, because they believe they understand everything. And, House Halvaran, they are a minor house compared to the others, but aggressive. Young blood, with something to prove. The kind that sets a fire to earn a seat at the table.”

  Malric’s gaze sharpened, making sure everyone was paying attention. They were.

  “These are their House Heads, some have heirs whom also have sway in their own right. Be prepared.” He tapped the many names that sat under the crests of each house. He didn’t give them much time to read the contents, let alone ask questions, before moving on.

  “Merchant Guilds, they have three votes. These are less houses, and more consortiums. They trade in everything from aether-silk to blood contracts.” A cluster of three images flashed at his words.

  “Vess Auralde leads the largest bloc. She smiles like she’s already sold your secrets.”

  Garret muttered, “She probably has.”

  Malric ignored him. “Brennick Hollis, Metalworks Guild, is an industrialist at heart. He favors hard work and grit over magic itself. And, Lira Sanvek, Spice and Transportation Guild, sees all things in ways of trade lines and logistics. She will already have formed an opinion on your fate, even now.”

  “Martial Sects, two votes. Combat philosophers and power monks. Some believe in enlightenment. Others just believe in strength. Master Halraen of the Azure Vault Sect, he is a soldier at heart. Direct, strict, but open to ideas if they show merit to the battlefield. He respects skill. If you bled well in the arena, he noticed. The Silver Fang Sect, led by Mistress Sayla Karlite, it a hard line cultivationist, she sees Heavenly System and its rules as exactly that, divine.”

  Henry didn’t speak, but his posture straightened slightly.

  “Lastly, the Church, two votes, split. One for the Conservator Bloc, traditionalists and ecclesiarchs who view you as abominations, you time might be wasted on them. And one vote for the Reformists, who are watching to see if your souls cast shadows.”

  “Mother Theralyn leads the Reformist voice. She is... measured. And quite cautious. But she listens.”

  Allie and Holly exchanged a glance.

  “And if,” Malric continued, “there is a tie, or a deadlock… then the deciding vote falls to the royal family. The King has chosen this honor to go Prince Kailan.”

  He let the name hang in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall. Alex had already met this man earlier. He just didn’t know he could be their deciding vote when the man had come to visit.

  “Youngest of the crown. Third in line. He smiles too easily. Charms too smoothly. But nothing he does is ever without weight. He is fair, and by all accounts, actually cares about the kingdom and its people. You might even be able to strike a true friendship, should you show him you have similar values.”

  Malric took one slow step forward. His gaze found Alex’s. “You are not guests here,” he said. “You are weapons in a vault. Relics under inspection. Some see your existence as a threat. Others, as a tool. And some —” he glanced briefly toward Holly, then Kate, then Henry “— will decide which with the thinnest of margins.”

  The room was still.

  “I do not advise fear,” Malric said, finally. “But I suggest caution.”

  “And what side are you on? What vote do you have?” Alex asked, eyes locked on Malric’s.

  “You misunderstand. I am on no one’s side. You may consider me a neutral party.” The man tapped the table once more, the images changing to that of a map. Alex recognized a few markers from their travel as prisoners. It was a map of Terraxum.

  “Terraxum may be a kingdom, but is the grand scheme of things, it is but a low-level power.” The map zoomed out then, showing neighboring Kingdoms and territories. Eventually Alex and the others could see the whole continent, a name floated above the landmass, ‘Urhara’. “King Terraxum and his lands are but an Adept Regency. None of their citizens are yet to show their talents to step into the Third Realm, or Magus Tier as I think you may call it.”

  Alex’s brow raised, he head tilting just a millimeter. “So then you are here on behalf of?”

  Malric smiled at him, as he obviously figured out the Arcanuum’s implication. “I, and the Arcanuum, am an observer on behalf of the Uhara Empire.” The entire continent on the displayed map was highlighted then, encompassing nearly every crumb of land, and some of the waters.

  “The Uhara Empire is vast, powerful, and beyond these small politics. These Kingdoms and City-states exist at the Empire’s leisure. But not without rules. That is where the Arcanuum come in.”

  “So you’re an interstate police force?” Garret asked.

  “You can say that. But know that I will not help, nor hinder you. I am simply around to ensure everyone plays by the rules. Uhara is not ignorant of Worldstriders or their potential. But its also knows many never live long enough for that potential to manifest, or for an investment to make a return.” Vaunt’s voice lowered in temperature suddenly, a cold bite lacing the words. “You are fish not big enough to reel in quite yet, so your fate means little to the Empire as of now.”

  “It, and by extension, I, will only watch and make sure Terraxum does not overstep. Otherwise, it may run it lands, and enforce it laws as it sees fit.” He looked at each of them in turn, nailing down his point.

  He tapped the table once more, reverting back to the display of the houses and sects. The names floated and shifted slowly next to each symbol of power. Each deciding vote.

  Malric turned then, walking back to the door without waiting for a reply. At the threshold, he paused.

  “You’ll meet them all tonight,” he said. “Smile, if you must. Dance, if you dare.”

  And then he was gone.