5.46 Conscription (Patreon)

Difference: Minimal

AN: Uni semester has begun and it has fucked me up. Waking up sooner than I am used to going to sleep sucks and the minor illnesses I have been going through all week don't help. I hope I can keep a reasonable writing schedule despite that, but if there are any delays that is why. Enjoy the chapter.

Irwyn felt the touch of sunlight on his skin, pleasant and warm even despite the thin clouds interrupting parts of it. This would not be particularly notable except for one fact: He was sitting inside the Dry palace.

“Fuck,” Desir aptly put it.

There was not a hole in the roof, as such a statement implied there being such a structure left. Rather, it seemed as if the top half of the Dry palace had been erased. The parlor they had gathered at just so happened to be somewhere in the middle elevation wise, and now Irwyn could only see the walls up to the height a few centimeters above his scalp where he sat. No sign of the rest that should by all means be towering above the room. Was there even anything left beyond the walls?

“Is everyone alive?” Elizabeth asked while the rest of them reeled.

“Yeah,” Waylan appeared, confirming that he was unwounded as everyone else was plainly visible.

“Desir, examine them for Soul damage or infection.”

“I am not touching Irwyn’s Soul, but will do the rest.”

“What was that?” Irwyn questioned instead, even though he already knew. 

It was still not unusual for powerful magic to be too subtle to notice, but this had not been like that. This was not secrecy, it was speed. Something so instant he had not seen even the echo, only witnessing the conclusion afterwards. Even when they had watched the battle of Truths with minds of Conception, the struggle had not been this instant. Like the cataclysmic spell was over before it had even started.

When he stood up from his chair, his amazement was not diminished. It was as if the ancient structure had been sheared down the middle with the world’s fastest rusted scissors, leaving countless little uneven gaps and cuts in the walls of half open rooms, but the shearing overall retained that same altitude. While his worst fear had not been realised, it was still true that something had completely obliterated a structure built to delay even Titled Liches without being so much as felt.

“What the Dukes had feared,” Elizabeth estimated. 

“Indeed,” a new voice sounded beside them. 

Irwyn burst with all the power he had already been gathering in an instant, though it immediately amounted to nothing. A Truth mage. But thankfully not a hostile one. He vaguely recognised the woman as the one who had been representing the technically headless Duchy of Yellow at the Summit.

“Is my father alive?” Elizabeth asked before further questioning could begin.

“Miraculously, yes. But the damage is still devastating. So far, nine have failed to report their survival, including the Dukes of Green and Brown. Of those targeted, only four seem to have made it through.”

“NINE?” Alice exclaimed, her ring flickering from the rush of emotion.

That was… extreme. Irwyn vaguely remembered that on average a Duchy would contain two to four Truth mages at a time, so three on average. Times that by the number of Duchies for 27, perhaps excluding intercalate and presumed theoretical hidden cards. It still meant that a third of the Truth mages in the Federation had just perished.

“Possibly ten, since the Duke of White is still missing. Someone might have survived by a thin enough margin they cannot even call for help… but I doubt it.”

“Why waste this attack on us then?” Irwyn glanced at the open air where a palace used to be. Not so much as a piece of debris had dropped. From Soul magic, which should be the most incorporeal. 

“You weren’t the target. Or at least, not the main one. I was,” the woman said looking them over. “And my countermeasures had been insufficient. And yet… Were I standing a floor above you, what would have happened?”

“You may forward any inquiries towards Lord Conflagration or my father,” Elizabeth deflected.

“Politics poison your heads in the Black. The guess is not even that difficult, I just hoped for a nod, because the Rot will figure out every secret. That makes them all harmful in the long run, as the Duke of White has just proven. But stay as silent as you want to. There will likely be a follow up attack and I need to be ready. Good luck.”

Then she was gone.

“You could have tried to extract a favor out of that,” Desir said. “Those are hard to get from Truth mages.” 

“Which would mean admitting to things,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Better to leave some doubt in case it’s needed. And if she is genuinely grateful, that will be remembered even without an explicit promise.”

“So you do know what caused us to not be dusted.”

“Yes…”

A Fragment will not intervene with another or a Name, just as Conflagration had said. Which ironically made Irwyn incredibly more resistant to it than to regular magic, as he was touched by both without the power that would usually accompany that. An attack clearly invested with a part of the Betrayer’s Fragment, and it ended up being utterly useless against Irwyn where even a casual spell from the Named Lich would have meant certain doom.

“It relates to things discussed at the Summit,” Irwyn interjected. “This will probably lead to questions, but who will have time for the now?”

“The Rot,” Alice answered dryly.

“We already were targets,” Elizabeth said. “So that won’t change. What is more likely to become different is the opportunity to attack.”  

“The Federation will not be keeping any reserves after today,” Desir agreed. “We should get any leftover business finished.”

The summons were delivered in person by someone they were already familiar with. Half an hour later, they were standing just outside the heavily damaged Dry Palace when the messenger approached.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Elizabeth question, but a faint smile was at her lips.

“As just a humble Conception mage, this is well within reason, Lady Elizabeth,” Calm replied.

“Not even ‘your Ladyship’,” she mused.

“It would be quite silly to call a Magelord that, wouldn’t it? Not that I am the most fond of strict definitions…”

“What are our orders?” Desir stepped in. 

“Something that I expect you to be unhappy with. This group is being split up,” he announced.

“They are lawfully part of my entourage,” Elizabeth frowned. “That right should only be stronger since I am a ‘Lady’ now, as you said. Is such a command even actionable?”

“During a Lich War? Of course. A Duke can issue any order with Despair sounded. That being said, it has not escalated that far. That would leave a lot of unwanted paper trail as to how powerful you have become. So, for now, it is merely an unwritten ‘suggestion’ made by your father. But that is just law and politicking. The Truth is, you will split because those three cannot survive where you are headed.”

“Which is where?”

“To a rapid response unit.” Calm said. Elizabeth seemed actually quite impressed, judging by her expression quickly shifting into something almost excited.

“That is?” Irwyn, however, had no idea.

“What the Federation sends when a city is falling, but manages to send out a signal in time,” she explained. “Or for raids so far behind enemy lines anyone without a Domain will be dead before their first breath.”

“In other words, the deadliest and most important work anyone can contribute, short of a Truth,” Calm added. “If you recall, the team which had secured Abonisle after the siege was exactly one such group.”

“I thought those squads were all established and trained between the wars,” Elizabeth questioned.

“And what do you think the attrition rate has been? Stealthy wars like this one are the deadliest for rapid response, because the lack of open engagements leaves much greater forces to lay in ambush.”

“While the Lich in charge has a clear grudge against them,” Desir pointed out. “Is this a barely disguised suicide assignment?”

“Only if it were at the start of the War. The undead are genuinely exhausted. Even after that devastating attack, we are still barely ahead in the number of combat ready Truth mages. As for Raveners, those have been thinned out radically as well. As for weaker forces, there are so few remaining that they likely have no more than a few of those Federation wide ‘distractions’ left in them. And they will be saving a lot of it for the final push.

“The logic is rather simple: You are both so young that the way you fight is actively changing between weeks and individual battles. The undead will not be able to easily adapt to your styles to prepare a trap without overwhelming force. Additionally, due to your unusual cooperation, the universal counters to any Void or Light mage are not feasible. With the other countermeasures already in place—such as rotations and random assignment—your chances of dying are low enough that the Federation is willing to play those odds.”

“Unless we get set up face to face with a Truth Lich lying in wait,” Irwyn pointed out.

“In which case they will be exposing themselves to elimination, or their absence will open them up to counterattack. The timing of this devastating spell was no coincidence. The Federation had just started wiping out the major gathering points we have known about, forcing the Archlich’s hand to commit limited resources or have half his forces completely routed in short order. Even Lord Conflagration had left to participate. Now that the power of Truth mages is roughly equal again, the moment one of those hordes is unprotected, Ezax or anyone else could easily destroy them.”

“And at this point that is an acceptable risk?” Desir questioned.

“At this point, it is impossible to justify not sending them out. Two particularly powerful Domain mages like you two are a significant force and your father does not have the authority to unilaterally deny conscription when it is most needed. Even Johnson will most likely join the fray despite having minimal combat ability. Only Conflagration himself could possibly exempt you at such a desperate hour out of ‘potential’.”

“Desir,” Elizabeth interjected just as the shapeshifter was opening his mouth to speak again. “This is everyone’s War. While it would be for the best if I had decades to become a Truth mage and make a real difference, I am not so brazen as to shirk duty where a managed risk might nudge the outcome. There still needs to be a Federation for me to fight for in the future.”

“Fine,” he calmed down. “What about the three of us then?” 

“Field hospital, though with some pulled strings. There is a certain Domain healer from the duchy of Cyan in charge who specializes in combining Wresting of Fate as well as Grafting of Life, using them as separate elements to efficiently heal. You were arranged to become one of his assistants.”

“I have very little experience as a proper healer,” the shapeshifter pointed out.

“Which is why this wouldn’t have been possible before. Now that everyone expects the war to intensify again we are scrambling for new healers to fill in for casualties, since it had seemed like we would have until the next war to properly train those replacements. Experienced mage in this area with so much as a single Concept will be in charge of their own minor hospitals, which makes you uniquely suited to become a helper. Charm the man and maybe he will teach you more than just the bare minimum.”

“What about me and Waylan?” Alice asked.

“You are naturally suited for logistics. Not only to that same hospital, but you will be mostly working nearby. Doing anything from recovering patients to transporting supplies. As for Waylan, he is best used for counter-intelligence. Search nooks that magic couldn’t find. Listen in to conversations between living traitors or spot them being recruited away from where spells can see. Your ability to dodge magical detection is incredibly valuable and incredibly hard to work against without at least Domains.”

“In the same area?” the sneak surfaced briefly.

“Of course. The ‘field hospital’ might be moving from time to time, but a Domain healer will not be sent anywhere that is not heavily fortified and well staffed. You will have a lot of discretion in how you do your work which should be mostly safe.”

“It at least sounds reasonable,” Desir nodded. “When are we leaving?”

“Elizabeth and Irwyn have… ten or so minutes before they are taken away. The rest of you have a few more hours.”

“Fast goodbyes then,” Desir sighed. 

“We will be fine,” Irwyn said. “The situation has worsened, but the War is unlikely to drag on much further. 

“Assuming one of our groups doesn’t get picked off. Did you not hear Calm talk about ‘casualty rates’ bad enough he didn’t even want to elaborate?”

“That just what the War is.” Elizabeth shrugged. “You have seen it yourself. Sometimes we cannot stop death, so we at least kick it in the face.”

“But not to us!” 

“They will live and so will we,” Alice grabbed his hand. “Have some faith.”

“To be clear, none of us have any intention of dying,” Irwyn reminded.

“Fine, fine, this is just getting on my nerves,” Desir admitted.

And it made sense. He had not grown up in the Duchy Federation after all. It was difficult to say how much of the culture he had absorbed before the disaster at Abonisle.  Waylan probably wasn’t too enthused about the risks either, he was just much quieter about his anxieties. But neither had spent a lifetime listening to the virtues of sacrifice to preserve mankind.

Alice and Elizabeth had. From the day they had first channeled mana, they had known they would one day use it to fight the Rot. Irwyn presumed every noble child was indoctrinated to some extent to accept that. Even back when they had not even carved a single Concept, Elizabeth felt like she had to justify to herself why she wasn’t fighting as a foot soldier in the conflict.

As for Irwyn himself he wasn’t quite sure why he was not trembling because of that lethal danger. Looking inward, perhaps it was confidence? He was indeed quite powerful and when prepared and supported few things were actually a threat to his life. Or that Fate would not let him meet more than he could match. Other than that, it could also be his upbringing in the streets of Ebon Respite. But no… the answer lay deeper. It was a leak.

Deep within his Soul, the ancient thing still stirred. Far harder to ignore than it used to be, to the point it was easier to pretend to notice he wasn’t constantly perceiving it rather than actually having no constant feeling come from it. And within that Name had been engraved a grudge strong to reach into a lifetime past death: 

The son of Light and Flame despised undead enough there was simply no place within his emotions for fear to fester. Irwyn realised that to some unknown extent those feelings influenced him. Likely had for years. 

“We will make a difference, then come back and make you swoon with the tales,” Elizabeth said, grinning. “So you better learn from that healer because I am not trusting some frontline hack to fix any of the scars.”

“One minute left,” Calm interjected. “And I have a gift for you two.”

He took out a wooden box as Elizabeth shot him a frown. He really did wait until the last moment to reveal it and by his slight smirk it had been on purpose. Quickly unwrapping it revealed two masks. One was familiar, almost identical to the one he had gotten from Bhaak when first fleeing from Ebon Respite—except for the color—while the other was clearly inspired by it. 

Except it was slightly off. Many small details were different, but the eyeholes were the biggest change. They had been moved slightly to the side and curved to be more aggressive. Not the sight that belonged to the middle of a food chain, but rather something held by a real bird of prey. A predator.

“It’s only been six minutes and forty seconds,” Alice complained as Irwyn continued his examination.

Just as interesting was the material. It was white with the slightest tinges of red mixed, so subtle Irwyn could barely tell. But the feeling of it war familiar, like something he was seen before but couldn’t quite make the connection. After a moment he realised what it was. 

“To quote the artisan: A dragon is a being of pure potential. Even I do not know exactly what will sprout from this commission.”

“We gave you enough scales and leftovers to build a barn with,” Elizabeth frowned.

“And those haphazard remnants have been condensed into something much more compact. Draconic remains are just about the most malleable material in existence after all. It could have been an amulet or a ring, but your mother decided it would be suitable to also help hide your identities a bit better.”

“Thank you,” Irwyn said, then put the mask on Elizabeth’s face. It attached easily, making her look quite fierce alongside the playful glare hidden beneath. “It suits you well.”

She mirrored his actions by putting his own on, giving a satisfied nod once it likewise attached. Irwyn barely felt it present, his field of view not obscured in the least. He could well not even realise there was anything there. As for more potent effects though, he had no idea. According to what Calm had said, there might not be any yet, the mask instead ready to adapt and develop in accordance with what he did with it.

“It’s been 80 seconds since you said ‘minute’ left. Are you just…” Alice started but did not get to finish.

A man appeared close to them. Irwyn had noticed the magic appearing, but it had still been incredibly fast. Not nearly to the level of a Truth, but there was likely more than one Domain involved. That much was confirmed when the newcomer’s power exuded a strangely conflicting presence that he couldn’t parse past being Time related.

“Confirmation?” The man asked, turning to Calm. His voice was incredibly deep, almost like gravel.

“L62-Esquire-KAV. These two are the right people.”

“Confirmed. Fanthom-WW47-PAU.”

“Confirmed. I was not told who exactly this is, but the code is correct. He will bring you to your destination.”

“Strict communication silence for this transit and afterward,” the man instructed. “I don’t care how secure you think your enchantments or spells are, the Rot knows how to track and crack them.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth nodded and Irwyn did likewise.

“Get moving, I will explain the rest during transit.”

Then a portal opened right next to the man who took a quick step inside, leaving it open for them. Irwyn and Elizabeth said brief final goodbyes, then followed. Though Irwyn definitely wondered how long “transit” could actually be with teleportation.