RE: Monarch
Chapter 36: Enclave VI

With Ephira’s help, the vote to grant me a year probation to prove myself worthy of the sanctum was three to two. The fallout was glorious. It appeared to everyone else as if a thirteen-year-old boy had somehow melted the heart of Ephira, a notoriously cold and ruthlessly pragmatic member of the High Council through an impassioned speech. Only Nethtari, Guemon, and I knew the truth.

And Guemon had navigated himself into a corner. He glared at me across the room in a manner that let me know this matter would not be settled so easily.

Ralakos approached us afterwards. He grinned an easy smile, flashing his pointed incisors. “Quite the show young Cairn. They’ll be talking about this for years.”

“It’s all thanks to my excellent solicitor.” I deflected, as the time for grandstanding and puffing myself up had passed. “Were it not for her, I fear I would have made an ass of myself.”

Nethtari shook her head. “Ephira was not the only one sandbagging in that hearing.”

Ralakos pointedly ignored the comment. “Now that the ruling has been made official, I did want to extend an offer for young Cairn to stay at my estate. There’s plenty of space, and he will need to learn much in the coming months to prepare.” Ralakos said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Nethtari stiffened slightly. I saw her tail peek out from under her dark robes towards her wrist before she stifled the motion Maya made often.

Ralakos seemed like a kind man. He was an ally, and the last thing I wanted to do was alienate him out of turn. But I’d seen this kind of thing from nobles one too many times. He had conducted himself well in the hearing, but always maintained a retractable position. Now that the battle was won, so to speak, he intended to sweep in and pilfer the spoils. If I was successful, I would be a boon of respect to those who supported me.

But Nethtari had jumped into the fire for me, without knowing the outcome.

I bowed deeply to Ralakos. “With all due respect, my people have a custom regarding this matter.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s best to dance with the one that brought you.” I stepped next to Nethtari, reinforcing us as a unit.

Nethtari looked genuinely surprised. Ralakos looked between the two of us and let out a deep boisterous laugh that turned several nearby heads.

“Of course, I forget myself. Solicitor Nethtari did excellent work this fine day.”

“Thank you, Master Ralakos.” Nethtari bowed.

“If at all possible, I would like to take you up on your offer of assistance for further preparation,” I said, hopefully.

Ralakos waved away the request. “Consider it done. Nethtari, let me know if you need anything to make Cairn’s stay more comfortable.”

It was a backhanded comment, but the sort that was absentmindedly spoken. I talked briefly with Ephira on the topic of the trade route, Guemon leering from the side all the while. She was the upper echelon sort I had the most experience in dealing with, the kind that, in the end, only cared about money. I did find myself wondering why, exactly, they were both so comfortable with the idea of abandoning the people within the gate. For now, that knowledge was beyond me.

The next six months passed incredibly quickly.

Despite my fears to the contrary, my father simply removed the blockade after receiving my letter. He sent no response, which was alarming. It made sense that he hadn’t responded to the first letter. The fact that he’d received the second, and acquiesced easily to my request, and hadn’t responded was ominous. Perhaps he’d found some of my predictions to be valid, but somehow, I doubted it was that simple. Things were never easy when it came to my father. He was playing his own game now, and I had no way of knowing what it was.

Most of my gold had been expended in the process of my recovery, and something I found out rather quickly about Maya’s household was that everyone chipped in.

Early mornings were spent maintaining the routine I’d built within the magus cell, jogging and working on my body. I woke up before everyone else and showered when I returned. After that, things turned hectic, either helping Kilvius with Rin or making sure Nethtari had everything she needed before she headed to the council for the day. Maya had daily responsibilities at the precipice, healing injured returning from the chasm, including infernal children that had given up on the sanctum.

Afternoons were split between studying and visiting one of the local apothecaries, usually to swap techniques and recipes with a kindly red infernal named Casikas, who paid me a modest wage. Once a week I visited Ralakos, though the man seemed more fascinated with the sound of his own voice than training me. He did send tutors to Nethtari’s house, as well as one of his guardsmen to spar—the man was no Cephur, but at the very least it meant I was improving.

There was, indeed, a class system within the enclave, though it wasn’t as much about skin-color as it was about magical affinity. The violet infernals held the highest potential for magic, followed by the blues, and finally the reds. There was significant variance within these categories, but generally, there was a relative cutoff. The most powerful blue would never exceed the level of a strong violet, and a weak blue would almost always be stronger than a red.

Nethtari was a weak violet, but still a relatively talented water magician. Kilvius had minor earth magic, and a slight affinity for water he had inherited from his wife.

That drew my attention immediately. They were reluctant on the details, but the short of it was, the infernals had a method of mingling souls. It was an intimate gesture, something done between romantic partners or lifelong friends. It wasn’t terribly practical or effective—in most cases, what little magic carried over would be significantly weaker, often not manifesting at all. There were other benefits as well. When I asked why they didn’t use it constantly to maximize the potential gain, they reacted like I’d just asked them why they didn’t just open their marriage, and Nethtari rather aggressively instructed me to stop talking so much and finish my vegetables. I marked it up to a cultural thing.

And then, there was magic itself. And it was so much more challenging than I could have dreamed.

Jorra and I sat side by side, cross-legged. We were using one of the larger side caverns to practice. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling, glistening cones that occasionally dripped water into the small mineral well below. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I reached out my hand and called the flame. It could be called a flame now, rather than a spark. Though it was small, no larger than a candle’s, it was still exponentially bigger than the spark had been months ago. The pain in my chest was practically nonexistent.

From what I understood, the method I had been using before was the equivalent of playing a harpsichord with a mace. It worked, yes, and higher level practitioners of dantalion did sometimes use it that way, but it was a method best used in emergencies, as it was notoriously hard on the soul.

Every mage had at least a single element. That I had already known. What I had been mostly ignorant of was that the flashy elemental magic often featured in stories was only meant to serve as a base. There were increasingly complex methods by which these elements could be weaved into spells. The infernals within the enclave generally looked down on the sole application of elemental magic in combat, finding it primitive and unsightly. In the case of the dantalion flame, flagrant use of the elemental form was especially dangerous, as the flame spread so quickly it could easily get away from the practitioner if things got out of hand. On the other side of the coin, many human mages found spells unreliable and unwieldy, preferring to focus on the raw elemental side of things.

I looked within me and found my mana, and pushed. The flame dispersed into a purple haze. I focused on it, willing it to stay together, pushing more of my mana into it to expand the cloud of wisping flame until it was large enough to envelop me completely. It encircled me, ghosts of flame swirling around my form. The surrounding temperature increased slightly, and a second bead of sweat dripped down my forehead.

Then all at once, I gathered it into a sphere in my palm, and threw the sphere forward. It impacted my target—a straw man soaked in rosewater—and exploded, leaving a sizable impact mark.

“Good,” Kilvius nodded, “But too slow. Jorra?”

Jorra encased himself in a ring of mist, performing the action that had taken me thirty seconds in less than ten. He sent a spinning disk of pressurized water at the dummy, the projectile curving upwards and slamming down into the target. Water as an element wasn’t great for that type of projectile, and he still managed to hit harder than me. He grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes and bumped his fist.

“Showoff.”

“You’re getting better. I no longer have time to nap while you cast.” Jorra stuck his tongue out.

He wasn’t wrong, exactly, I was getting better, but the rate of growth wasn’t nearly as significant as I would have liked. Pushing and pulling objects with the flame came natural to me, as did some other minor cantrips.

I rustled Jorra’s spiky hair. “Keep talking big guy. One of these days I’m gonna miss the dummy and set you on fire.”

“Only you could miss that badly. And only if I don’t drown you first.”

“Think fast.” Kilvius said.

I immediately called the flame and twisted towards him, expanding it into a round, violet aegis. The pebble missed me entirely and pegged Jorra right in the forehead.

“Why?!” Jorra exclaimed, holding the spot painfully.

“Because I knew Cairn would block it.” Kilvius tossed a second pebble up and down cheerfully. “You’re the better caster, he’s got better defense and reflexes. You’ll balance each other out in the sanctum.”

Kilvius did this sort of thing constantly. It completely threw me off at first. Whenever my father taught us anything—whether it was swordsmanship, statecraft, hells, even basic history—we were constantly and incessantly pitted against each other. If one succeeded, it automatically meant that the others had failed.

But Kilvius always found a way to praise both of us. Even early on, when the best I could manage was a pathetic puff of aura. He’d correct my mistakes, and then ask Jorra to explain what it’d been like for him when he first began to weave spells. He was constantly reinforcing the fact that we were allies, and that in the future, we’d be relying on each other.

Learning being constructive and rewarding, rather than bitter and stressful, was a novel experience.

On the other side of the miniature lake, Kastramoth made a particularly loud shuffling noise in irritation. Maya sat next to him unperturbed, meditating peacefully, bathed in green light. She brought the demon out to work with him whenever we went to the outskirts—lesser demons were allowed in the city, but greater ones were considered a security threat. He really was just a big brute. A clever one, but his capacity for physical violence and natural regeneration were his best traits. I watched Maya breath in and out evenly, a slight pang in my chest. She’d enter the sanctum in less than a week, the day after her fifteenth birthday. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴ0velFɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

With the age gap between us, it couldn’t be helped. The council was already bending the rules by allowing me to enter at the age of fourteen, assuming I followed through on my end of the bargain. Still, the idea of being away from her for such a span of time felt wrong.

This time, the pebble did peg me in the forehead.

“Ow.” I shifted to look at Kilvius, who was watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“Pay attention.” There was the slightest touch of amusement in his voice. “As I was saying, we’re gonna have to cut this short. I’ll be taking Jorra with me into the marketplace to pick up some supplies for Maya. Better to not wait ‘till the last minute. Do you want to come, or stay here and practice?”

“I’ll stay.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

Kilvius looked between me and his son for a moment, then spoke. “Jorra, go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” Jorra stretched his arms above his head, then jogged away, heading out the mouth of the cavern and towards the path that would take him back into the enclave.

Kilvius crouched beside me, arms on his knees. He watched Maya meditate, a wistful smile crossing his lips.

“You know, you don’t have to push so hard,” he said.

I wasn’t sure how to respond that. His comment was well-meaning, but felt antithetical to my entire situation. “If only that were true.”

“I’m speaking purely from a practical standpoint. I get that you think what you’re doing is important. And it is. There’s a lot of weight on your shoulders. I can only speak from my limited experience, but you have to take a break now and then. Enjoy life a little.” He eyed me knowingly. “Get adequate amounts of sleep.”

I flinched. Apparently, my vurseng enhanced reading and late night expeditions to the cavern had been noticed. He was probably right, of course. My behavior over the last few months was probably growing to the point of being unsustainable.

“I’m… afraid.” I admitted.

“What are you afraid of?”

“That if I stop, even for a moment, I’ll go back to the way I used to be. That I’ll fall back into the same pattern of coasting day to day, expecting the world to handle itself for me.” I scowled.

Kilvius laughed. “You’re too young for that much self-awareness.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “It may not seem like it right now, but you’ve made excellent progress. Working hard is fine. Just don’t burn yourself out. I know I’m practically a stranger to you, but still. I’m proud of you.”

I’m proud of you.

“…Thank you.” I said awkwardly. It was such a small thing, but no one had said those words to me since my mother died. The emotion that swelled in my chest was embarrassing and I looked away.

Kilvius said goodbye and took his leave.

I waited for a few minutes, then went to check to make sure there wasn’t anyone lingering outside the chamber. Maya had stirred from her meditation and watched me.

“All clear?” She asked. Kastramoth rose on all four legs in anticipation. A string of drool dripped from his mouth.

“Yep.”

I removed my outer garment, not wanting to bloody it, then strode to the center of the chamber and drew my sword, staring down the demon.

“Shall we?”

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