The Warden of Zaichaer.
Posted: Wed May 22, 2024 6:54 pm
A crater, Zaichaer
1st of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
1st of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
"As you can see," the High Sentinel explained to his cadre of warders, "my initial ward was haphazard. There were too many targets and too few warders. Thankfully, now I have you and we can strategically strengthen wards. Due to this new tear into the Warren's association with the apostate Lyra, it will not be used for ingress to the Warrens on sanctioned business. With your aid, we will remove my wards and raise something a bit more sophisticated and a bit more powerful. Unfortunately, due to the eldritch nature of the Warrens, it would be too complicated to bar a clever and dedicated Traverser from crossing into the Warrens. The Railrunners have been warned away, but we will leave alarums behind so we can, at least, attempt to police passage. Hopefully, we shan't need to."
Angevin's warders were appropriately attentive.
"Take a moment, if you like, to look around. Lessnau will prepare the artefact we will use to work more closely in tandem. Rest assured, there will be no side effects."
He nodded, and some of them took the temporary dismissal as an order to circumnavigate the crater. Others stayed close to be ready should he require their attention quickly. After he nodded, though, all his attention turned to Klaus-Dieter Lessnau, his shadow.
The zealous Watcher nodded in a manner that seemed almost a bow. At first, Angevin had felt vaguely unnerved by the man's devotion, but one could become accustomed to anything in time and now he saw it as natural. He would not be able to wear so many hats—admiral, High Sentinel, husband, father—had he not learned to delegate and depend upon devoted servants like Dienerin and Lessnau, among several others. Heavy was the head that wore the crown, so to speak.
Lessnau pulled out a fist-sized cluster of what looked like rutilated quartz, its facets scrived with arcane symbols and inlaid with aetherite. Angevin could well understand why even his warders would glance askance at such a thing. He was considering initiation in Semblance—likely from Lessnau himself—the better to understand the various magics he might be called upon to block. He was the Warder of Zaichaer, after all. If he could catch a glimpse of Talon Novalys' aura, he might just be able to interdict the presence of gods and mistborn devils from Zaichaer.
That was the dream.
It took the Watcher some few minutes to attune his mind to the artefact, and when he nodded to the High Sentinel, Angevin stuck thumb and forefinger between his lips to let out a shrill whistle. Everyone double-timed it back to his presence. Once gathered, he indicated the artefact in Lessnau's outstretched hand. His eyelids were lowered to half-mast, his lips moving as if murmuring to himself.
"One by one, we will touch the stone—I will lead lest you fear 'tis unsafe—and through it, Lessnau will pull our minds into synchrony through his Rune. We will be able to work together, think at each other more clearly than we could articulate in words. Thus I will be able to lead and instruct you more effectively." Lessnau had also brought up the fact that he could easily work his Mesmer into the aetheric matrices so that Angevin could out and out control their minds and their magic, but Angevin had merely kept that idea in his back pocket. He did want to develop the talents of his warders, and the idea of enslaving their minds, even temporarily, made him feel dirty. Best to save that for a more dire emergency than this.
"When the stone grows too crowded, merely place your hand on the hand of another. The contact will be enough to form the temporary bond." He slightly emphasized the word temporary in order to assuage any anxieties. They were patriots all, but he could understand the fear of submitting to any sort of magic.
With no further ado, he placed his hand over the crystal artefact and immediately felt what he had felt before: as though Lessnau had held out a hand and accepted his, but it was all in the mind. He felt a frisson of pleasure and pride when Lessnau felt his respect for the man, quickly tamped down, replaced with Lessnau's fervent respect, and then that too cooled. By the time other minds joined theirs, Lessnau had feelings under control other than the vague wonder, trepidation, and myriad of other feelings from the other warders. This too calmed until they were all a tentative sort of hive, while still retaining their individuality.
Without words, they were able to sense his old warding with greater intensity and clarity due to Lessnau's Semblance. They observed as he unraveled his work deftly, recycling some of that energy into what was to come. He showed them how to hand him their power, and with greater ease, he was able to weave something new over the crater. Then, he was able to show them what he needed to do, where he wanted them to reinforce the geometry of the thing with portions and processes that required less in the way of power, and more in the way of keen attention.
With Angevin as the leader and Lessnau as the fulcrum, they moved the proverbial mountain.
When the work was complete, he let his pleasure shine through across the network of minds and was pleased to feel answering pleasure and pride. He showed them how to relax their hold on Lessnau, and then, as they did, Lessnau released them from the binding. First to advance, last to retreat, Angevin let go of Lessnau's mental grip with a squeeze of gratitude, and then held a post-mortem with his warders, who were also now, perforce, his students, while Lessnau pulled himself out of the artefact and out of trance.
"...and now you are all dismissed for the rest of the day. You may feel fine, but you did a great deal of work and exhaustion might creep up on you suddenly." With a nod, he let them go, and they departed.
Angevin clapped Lessnau on the shoulder once he had put the artefact back in its carrying case, offering him a cigar.
"Come, Lessnau. Let's have a smoke, and then a drink. Your work had been invaluable."
The strange man beamed.
High Admiral's Office, Fort Cathevelle
27th of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
27th of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
"I can assure you, Grand Marshall Lang," Lucrece was saying, "that we of the female persuasion are more than willing to take up arms to defend our homeland." The older man attempted to get a word in edgewise, but she would not allow it. Eitan was definitely not smirking, remembering how she used to put her father in his place. Her hand was on her rounding belly as if to dare him to tell explain womanhood to him. "It is only fair to require the same military service of women as of men before they begin their state-sponsored higher education. I am perfectly willing to lead the charge, so to speak—do you see how I can already speak the language?—once my baby is born and weaned and I am physically recovered. I will happily serve as an exemplar to other young citizens, show how they can serve their fatherland, pursue their education, and marry and have families. Think of it—two years of military service will help teach the young adults discipline, which will only help them with their academic and even non-military careers. A Reserve Officers' Training Corps can keep their skills sharp should their academic careers be geared toward military careers, and the forces under your and my husband the Admiral's command are supported by trained levies should emergency strike again, which, if we should have learned anything by now... emergency will strike again. Unless you mean to tell me that military luminaries such as Commander Vonnegut and even my husband the Admiral's dear, departed sisters—"
"Half-sisters," Eitan interjected.
"—not relevant, my love. It would behoove you not to underestimate the female population, sirs."
Eitan blinked. When had he joined Lang's side of this argument.
"Now see here, Mrs. Angevin—"
"Oh, do call me Luca. All my friends do. And I shall call you Leo. We are friends, Leo, aren't we?" She leveled the sweetest smile upon him and Grand Marshall Leopold Lang couldn't seem to decide whether to agree with her or succumb to apoplexy. At least Eitan knew how to assassinate him should he need to consolidate power; just delegate the task to his darling wife.
"While it may be counterproductive," he interjected smoothly, "to require military service in exchange for the education that we wish to afford our populace and which will also, in the end, serve Zaichaer, we could certainly discuss short-term enlistment as a bridge from secondary to tertiary education. While my brother-in-law, the First Minister, certainly learned a great deal from his service, Zaichaer might have tapped his true genius earlier had he gone directly to the Institute. There will always be a need for exceptions, but I would be happy to see my exceptional wife—" he coughed to cover up a sudden shock, "—go through basic training, if only to better understand my working life and those of the little soldiers we are making together." He smiled. "And, of course, my stepmother will forever remind me that she is, in fact, a better shot than me. And now," he stood, "I must beg your indulgence and forgiveness, but I must leave. There has been a breach of one of the wards and it must be investigated. Lang, if you would be so kind as to see my wife to a taxi? Darling, I—"
"Yes, dear," she said, standing so he could kiss her cheek before departing post-haste, "you will be home for supper, I know."
Whatever else he might have said came out of him in a defeated exhale. He shared a rueful, commiserating glance with Lang, and departed.
Klaus-Dieter Lessnau, whose office was adjacent to his own, was already gone. Eitan allowed him to keep a tab on his mood like a medic with their fingers at a man's pulse. His alarm was a silent alarm, and then man would have an airship waiting for him with soldiers and, likely, more Watchers for whatever the problem was.
It was good to be the operator of a well-oiled machine.
Someone was looking for the apostate Lyra.