Crown of Velúndé – Chapter 19: XCV — The Sixth Magnitude (Patreon)

Chapter 19: XCV — The Sixth Magnitude

“I think that went well enough,” Xirio hummed, walking ahead of Kayode and through the passages of Sarauta. “I mean, she didn’t kill you, or torture you for years, or torture you for years and then kill you.”

“No she did not,” Kayode agreed. “Where are we headed?” he asked. They had been walking for several minutes now, and seemingly with no end in sight.“To meet our resident Arcanoscientist, Magister  Thaelwen Hatstopa.” Xirio told him.Judging by the name, this Magister Hatstopa was an Elf. 

“We’re there,” Xirio said, coming to a stop in front of a door. Frantic warnings had been scrawled across it:

KEEP OUT.YOU’LL DIE IF YOU ENTER.No, seriously—just touching the doorknob would set your pubic hair on fire.And, lastly:FUCK OFF.

“I—” Kayode didn’t see Xirio next to him

“See ya later!” the half elf said, already walking away,

“You’re not coming with me?” Kayode asked.

But the man just turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Kayode drew in a breath, touched the doorknob, and when his pubic hair did not ignite, twisted it and entered.

The room was brightly lit, its stone walls washed in cool blue from gemstones hung at careful intervals. The surfaces were clean and orderly, the stone smoothed and reinforced. Runes were carved directly into the walls and floor—old, functional markings, worn slightly at the edges from years of use rather than ornament.

The air was warm and dry, carrying the faint scent of oil, parchment, and worked metal.

Heavy tables filled the space, cluttered with stacked folios, measuring rods, inked charts, and neatly arranged tools whose purpose Kayode could only guess at. 

This was no crude workshop like the ones he had stumbled through while searching for a cure. There were no candles burning in corners, no incense. Every object here had a place, and every place served a purpose.

Sprawled across one of the tables lay a bronze form shaped like a man. The gemstone set into its head marked it as a Golem, and the fact that it was dull rather than bright told Kayode it was inactive.

It shuddered.

Then the construct sprang upright, sitting rigidly. Its eyes fixed on Kayode, and words emerged from its still lips as the gemstone flared to life.

“Intruder. Please stand by while the Magister prepares to end your life.”

What?

“I’m going to kill you!” a voice snapped.

Kayode turned to see a crimson haired Elf storming out of a side room, a syringe clutched in her hand like a dagger.

She paused when she saw him, shock in her eyes, “You’re not a little shit servant boy—what do you want?” she seemed only a hint less annoyed at the realization.

“I’m Lord Balógun,” he introduced himself. 

She lowered the syringe, then laughed. “Oh, the one everyone thinks is the Kingdom Maker—yes?”

“The very one,” Kayode confirmed.

She snickered. “Well, we’ll see about that. Absolutely nothing gets by an Appraiser,” she grinned, as if she’d caught him in some elaborate lie and could not wait for the chance to tear it apart. “Stand there,” she added, gesturing to a circle at the center of the room.

Kayode did so.

The edges of the circle flared instantly, erupting into a blaze of fire.

Kayode took a step back and frowned at her. “You could have warned me.”

“Well, yes, I could—but where’s the fun in that?” She reached for a book, and it flew into her palm. The woman began tearing out pages and flinging them toward Kayode.

The paper burned to ash the instant Hatstopa’s flames touched it. Then Kayode saw walls of text begin to inscribe themselves along the surface of the fire. They were barely visible at first, but as she fed the blaze, the text grew ever more legible—though Kayode could not decode any of it.

Hatstopa adjusted her glasses, as if convinced they were malfunctioning. “Level: Fourteen. Health Points: Two thousand, two hundred. Mana Points: Five thousand, five hundred.”

So there were aspects of his stats that his sheet did not grant him access to.

She waved her hands as if scrolling, and the symbols across the fire spun in response. Hatstopa rubbed at her eyes. “C—class,” she began, her fingers trembling. On the surface of the fire was the symbol of a singular imposing beaded crown. “The Kingdom Maker…Tier: S Plus.”

The woman looked on the verge of fainting. She took one step back, then another, before collapsing into a nearby seat. Her eyes never left the fire.

“By the Blade. King’s Due. Loopforged,” she listed—and Kayode’s heart froze.

“Relax. I can only see their names—whatever they are. Even Appraisers have limits,” she added hollowly.

Her fingers rose to her lips as she stared at the scripts, eyes wide, as if his very existence had cracked the foundations of her understanding of the world.

“The Sixth Magnitude,” she whispered. “The fucking Sixth… it’s real.”

Kayode frowned. “What does that mean?”

Her eyes flicked to him now, and she seemed annoyed, on the verge of ignoring him, but something just about changed her mind. She sighed. “Strongest Class in the world and he doesn’t know what the Sixth Magnitude is.”

“Well at least my entire world view didn’t just come apart.”

She glared hot daggers at him. Then nodded. “Touché.” The woman inhaled. “ Okay, so Classes don’t scale evenly. Tiers don’t just unlock Skills—they increase Magnitude.”

She gestured, diagrams reconfiguring midair.

“Think of it this way. Take a Level 10 Fighter—E Tier. That’s our baseline. A Warrior at the same level—D Tier—is functionally one Level higher. A Sword-Bound, another step. Sword Singer, another. Blade Master, another. The Sword Saint? He was Five steps above the baseline.”

A Level 10 Fighter and a Level 10 Sword Saint. Same Level. Extremely different outcomes. The Sword Saint would essentially be double the power of the Fighter.

Then her eyes settled on him. “You don’t sit on that scale. You exceed it. Six steps above E Tier, that makes you a Sixth Magnitude.” She shook her head, focus bleeding into her eyes. “Archibald!”

The Golem turned. “Yes, oh high exalted one—your great, never-wrongness, she who towers atop the pinnacle of intellect upon which all the drooling morons of past and present are doomed to be eternally compared.”

“Clear my schedule!” Hatstopa ordered. “We have work to do.” She was already on her feet. “I need to figure out your—”

The door opened.

Hatstopa snatched up a syringe and hurled it.

The weapon stabbed into the wall just above a frightened boy’s head.

“Fuck! I missed!” Hatstopa cursed. Then she rounded on the child. “What do you want?!”

He trembled, going pale. “I… uh…” He swallowed. “Apologies, oh high exalted one—your great, never-wrongness, she who towers atop the pinn—”

“Get to the point before I put a point in you!” she snapped.

“The Great Lord’s presence is requested!” he blurted out.

“What? By who? Tell them to fuck off—I’m using him now.” She waved a dismissive hand.

“By the Great Lady Lami, oh high exalted one.”

Hatstopa’s face contorted in a stream of emotions, none of them good. She paced, back, forth, back forth, pulled on her hair, and—”Fine! Fuck! Fine! I want him back though!” 

The fire died, and Kayode was heading for the door.

She pointed at him. “And don’t exchange fluids, it might fuck up my readings!”

Kayode ignored the psychopath and left the room before she could find something else to throw.

###

Northern Ayédán styles of dress were distinct from those of the West’s. Kayode had always known that. Tonight, he was made more keenly aware of it, wrapped in one such garment himself.

He was put in fewer beads—only a single strand resting against his chest—but the fabrics were heavier, fuller, layered in surplus to hold back the cold. The cloth draped rather than clung. A broad turban sat upon his head, wound thick and high, its fabric dense enough to trap warmth and shadow his brow.

Still, like all things made by the elite tailors of Velúndéan high society, it was an elegant thing, simply crafted for a different world than he was used to.

“Great Lord Balógun. The Great Lady awaits, just through this door,” a servant said, dressed in fine clothes themselves.

Kayode nodded, placed a hand on the handle and for the third time today stepped through a door he did not quite know what was on the other side of.

There was no high seated monarch in this room, neither was there a misanthropic Elf. 

Only Lami waited for him, dressed in bright, beautiful purple and white Ayédán fabrics, a headwrap framing her face, a playful smile resting on her lips. She sat at one end of a vast, empty dining table.

At the opposite end stood a single chair.

Between them lay a lavish spread of food, far more than two people could reasonably consume.

Behind her were two armored individuals in purple and ivory—one woman, one man. Both stood silently at attention and had the Oathguard crest marked on their breast plate. Kayode thought he recognised something about the male’s face. Was he the one that saved him from Clarke back in Ezeria.

Lami was on her feet, beaming. “Great Lord Balógun—or should I call you The Kingdom Maker himself?” She gestured toward the empty seat. “Please, join me.”

Kayode did so, sliding into the chair across from her and settling in. “Lovely to see you again, Great Lady Gimba,” he said, formal. If he was formal then she couldn’t do that weird shit to his belly.

“Oh please—we’re going to be married,” she giggled, then leaned in ever so slightly. “I did always like you, you know? Remember when we used to play together in Asoburgh? I looked forward to that every single day I was there. It broke my heart when I had to leave.” Her smile softened. “So maybe it’s destiny. Or perhaps the Ancestors themselves have tied our fates together once more.”

“Funny thing, the Ancestors tying us together,” Kayode noted simply, “when you were meant to marry Marquess Okechukwu in two months.”

Lami paused, shocked, then seemed impressed. “Oh? The Great Lord has spies, does he?”

“Something like that,” Kayode smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So what happens now? We get married in two months instead?”

Lami nodded. “That, and mother will be declaring neutrality in the civil war. Officially abstaining with her vote.”

“Abstaining,” Kayode echoed. “So that leaves the Marquess with only two votes. His own, and Duke Adegbite’s.”

“Yup,” Lami said lightly, as if they were discussing the menu. “It allows us to focus our resources on Leveling you up,” she continued, “while the others exhaust themselves on each other.”

Kayode’s eyes narrowed. “Okechukwu won’t survive that. The Grand Duke will make an example of him. You’re fine with letting him die?”

Lami shrugged. “Seems so.”

Kayode exhaled slowly. He did not like Okechukwu. The man had killed him—twice now. And yet, even so, this felt cold. “So you never loved him. It was all a lie. A manipulation to earn his trust and use him—”

“I did,” Lami said simply.

Kayode stopped dead, and had to take a moment to work his wits around that. “...But you’re fine with letting him die.”

Lami laughed, genuinely amused. “If you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, Great Lord, it won’t work.” She met his gaze, utterly unflinching. “If it is best for my House that Okechukwu die, then he will die. No matter how cruel, or humiliating, or twisted the Grand Duke chooses to make it.” She took a sip of wine. Then her eyes narrowed. “Now what about you? Why do you think this is all worth dooming Okechukwu? Why do you want to be King. You’ve shown no interest in the throne before.”

“Because they’ve left me no choice,” Kayode told her.  “I either wear the crown, live as a puppet, or I die.”

Lami smiled, her reply soft, distant, and certain. “The greatest liars are not those who can fool entire courts but those who fool themselves.”

Kayode decided to move onto other matters. “You should know that the Grand Duke has ten thousand troops on a course for Nalefan, however those men are decoys, low Level soldiers dressed in elite wears. His true attack is by sea, where he’s going to decimate the city.”

Lami frowned. “Ten thousand men…surely Appraisers would see through the deception. I mean…An illusion on that scale…that’s impossible.”

“Unless you’re the Arch Arcanist,” Kayode corrected. There was a reason duchies poured their wealth into crafting Definitive Class Stones—despite how resource-intensive they were, how selective they were in choosing a bearer, and their tendency to shatter after a failed Class burning, wasting decades of work. It surprised nobody that the Grand Duke had been the first Arch Arcanist in over a hundred years. Nor that his becoming it had propelled his family’s influence into the heavens.

“Such power,” Lami whispered. Then her eyes flicked up to him, piercing, inquisitive. “How do you know this?”

“Never mind that. What matters is what we’re going to do with this information,” Kayode told her. “I say we tell Okechukwu.”

Lami frowned. “Why would we—” her eyes widened. “Oh!” she nodded approvingly, grinning eagerly. “We wait until the last second. Until the reveal is as catastrophic to both parties as it can possibly be!” She clapped and giggled. “I couldn’t have come up with a better plan myself!”

“Speaking of a plan,” Kayode added, ignoring the fact that she was speaking of intimate betrayal so callously. “I’ve heard that Okechukwu has been in talks with the Northern nations. For what?”

Lami bit her lip in thought then shook her head. “I’ve heard of no such thing. You’re certain.”

Kayode thought back to the Notification flashing upon Clarke’s demise. “Deadly so.”

Lami nodded. “First I’m hearing of it then.” 

“Seems your beloved didn’t tell you everything then,” Kayode smirked.

Lami shook her head. “No…no he didn’t,” then she grinned, proud. “Smart boy.” And then her eyes were back on Kayode, excited. “Speaking of the North—Mother has named you Baron of Cloudhave.”

“Cloudhave? Where is that?” Kayode asked.

“Oh. it’s beyond the Kingdom, in one of the colonies,” Lami told him.

An entire barony. That was certainly welcome news. Given that The Kingdom Maker responded well to acts of rulership, he would have ended up asking for somewhere to rule regardless. That the Duchess had simply given it to him meant he owed her no favours—a good thing, but also a troubling one. She did not seem like the sort of woman to act out of kindness.

“Alright then, when do we leave?”  Kayode asked.

“Right now actually,” Lami said, already getting to her feet.. “Xirio should be done getting the Drifship ready.” She slid her chair back into the table, and began walking towards the door. “Come with me, your new land awaits!” she giggled.

Kayode sighed, got to his feet, and followed.

###

The Driftship did not twist Kayode’s insides like it did last time. Perhaps he was getting used to the feeling, or perhaps Lami’s driftship—massive thing that it was—was just better than a mere spy’s vessel. Probably the latter.

Kayode stood on the bow of the ship, stared into the darkness of the ocean and found the moon’s reflection waiting on the surface.

He was as far from the Grand Duke as he had ever been, and with every second the ship tore across the ocean, he drifted further still. 

I used to dream of days like this.

“There you are,” Lami called.

Kayode turned to see her approaching. The Deck was empty, save from her Oathguards of which two were new. One a male, not much older than Kayode and with a handsome face and a scar that ran along it that made him even more handsome. He had short black hair and dark eyes.

The other was a woman. Older, in her thirties certainly, and carrying herself with a veteran’s certainty. She had a severe face and braided blonde hair.

Both were in the same, full lamellar, They carried a long box between them that almost looked like a casket. They set it down gently.

Kayode glanced to Lami. “What’s that?” He asked.

“A gift from my mother,” Lami told him, and the Oathguards opened the box, revealing a full kit of Relics. All the black and gold of his House. “You thought we weren’t going to get you something for the road?”

Their runes glistened with an energy and a workmanship that Kayode had never seen before. Not even in Mercy.

“Enough Dillydallying!” Lami clapped. “Time for you to try them on.”

###

[Relic]

Name: Great Noble Takoba

Type: Sword

Tier: B

──────────

[Material(s)]

— Oath-Forged Steel

— Relic Stone (B)

— Tempered Core Alloy

──────────

[Bound Skill(s)]

— Edge-Blaze (IV)

— Bone-Cleaver (III)

— Blood-Call (II)

— Ghost-Line (I)

──────────

[Relic]

Name: Great Noble Lamelar

Type: Armor Set

Tier: B

──────────

[Material(s)]

— Oath-Forged Lamellar Plate Steel

— Relic Stone (B)

— Laminated Stress Core

──────────

[Bound Skill(s)]

— Brace-Boulder (IV)

— Force-Caller (III)

— Dash-Blur (II)

— Skin-Stitch (I)

──────────

Kayode felt the static warmth of magic radiating from his armor. It clung tight and well to him, shielding him from the world and any harm it might wish to cause him.

And then there was the edge.

It was not a Native longsword, and despite being Ayédán, it was not an Ida. The Takoba was a long, straight blade, narrow and rigid, built not for wide cuts but for thrusting. An armour-killer. Its guard was broad and horizontal, extending well past the grip on either side—less a cross for catching blades than a barrier meant to keep a hand alive. The hilt was short, wrapped for a single grip, and the pommel was small and utilitarian.

By the Blade made him feel like this sword thirsted not to be used with flourish but with unending discipline. That it was a thing of control, precision, and quick decisive work.

“Thank you…”

“It’s your right, silly,” Lami shrugged. “As are these.”

The Oathguards reached into the box, withdrew two crimson stones, and placed them in his hands.

Within them churned a swirl of hungry, gaseous energy. As Kayode’s gaze shifted from one to the other, the motion followed—subtle—like something inside the stones was aware of him, and watching back. Etched into its surface was the mark of a serpent coiled around a heart, moments from striking.

[Relic: Oathstone (A)]

[Relic: Oathstone (A)]

Kayode looked at the two strange Oathguards with new eyes; their armor was not the white and purple of House Gimba but the Black and Gold of House Balógun.

He stared at Lami, stunned.

She looked back at him, eager.

The Oathguards were on their knees now, heads bowed. Wordless, and uniformly, they took off the greaves around their right hand and then the glove underneath. Revealing the back of their palms to him.

“Hold the stones against their palms,” Lami nudged.

And Kayode did, placing one on the back of each hand.

The lady spoke first. “I, Dame Katria Varghelt of Bymyer, do hereby swear undying and complete fealty to you, Great Lord, Baron Kayode Nathaniel Balógun, by word and by will.”

The man came next. “I, Ser Jorren Gold of Karsūna, do hereby swear undying and complete fealty to you, Great Lord, Baron Kayode Nathaniel Balógun, by word and by will.”

The stone flared to life.[(A) Oathstone: Dame Katria Varghelt has sworn an Oath. Do you Accept? Y/N]

[(A) Oathstone: Ser Jorren Gold has sworn an Oath. Do you Accept? Y/N]

“I accept your Oaths,” Kayode said.

And the stones burned brighter. For Kayode it was warm, but for the knights it was far more intense. Kayode saw the Oathstones sizzle into their skin, hissing as smoke coiled into the air. They tensed but did not pull back, simply gritting their teeth.

The Stone’s contents hollowed and hollowed, and when they were nearly empty, the things shattered, letting a light puff of red gas into the air.

On the back of the Oathguards’—his Oathguards—palms, was the symbol of a snake coiling around a heart. Moments from pouncing.

The pair were on their feet a moment later, sliding their gloves on. 

“We thank you for elevating us, Great Lord,” they said in unison, and wordlessly slid behind him, positioning themselves in a protective posture—from Lami, Kayode realised.

These were Knights trained under her family’s duchy. The fact that they had been chosen for this task was likely a reward for proven loyalty to House Gimba. Surely they knew Lami meant him no harm. And yet, the instant they had sworn their oaths, he had become their priority, and she a potential threat.

He saw Lami’s men react in kind, positioning themselves better to protect their ward.

So this was what it was like to have your own Oathguard.

The Great Lady smiled. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, as if reading his mind. “And oh yes, we can’t forget!” Lami reached into her pocket and pulled out a metal pendant. It bore a mask, crafted in an ancient Northern Ayédán style.

She reached around Kayode’s neck and clipped it around him.

And a wall of text sprang to life.

[Relic]

Name: Pendant of Tauri

Type: Pendant

Tier: S

──────────

[Material(s)]

— Null-Annealed Karfe Alloy

— Tauri-Bound Basalt Core

— Ledger-Silent Relic Stone (S)

— Multi-Layered Stress Diffusion Lattice

— Oath-Sealed Obscurant Foil

— Signal-Dampening Fiber Weave

— [Hidden]

— Authority-Neutral Binding Resin

— Class-Index Scrambler Matrix

— Attribute Sink Substrate

— Registry-Desync Etching

— [Hidden]

— Intent Masking Film

— Rank-Compression Plate

— Read-Back Denial Sigilwork

— [Hidden]

— Verification Breaker

— Metadata Collapse Anchor

──────────

[Bound Skill(s)]

— Secret-Keeper (I)

──────────

Kayode felt his throat dry.

An S Tier Relic…

“To keep the Appraisers back. So no one knows the greatest secret in the world,” Lami told him.

The B Tier Relics, the Oathguards, and now this. It was great. But it was all too much. All too quickly. Something more was going o—

“We’re here!” Lami told him.

Kayode looked ahead and saw Cloudhave. A field of snow-smothered hills broken by scattered settlements, all of them dwarfed by a single town that loomed above the land, watching it like a sentry.

At the shore was a welcoming party, waving the Velúndéan flag—a black and gold thing with the image of a singular beaded crown imposed onto it. No—it was not a welcoming party, too many tents huts, too many soldiers, and a large fence.

“Why is there a military camp on the shore?” Kayode asked.

Lami shrugged. “Probably because the Barony had a successful rebellion a few weeks ago.”

Kayode nodded, feeling the rug finally be pulled from under him and his guts burn. “So I have to take it back.”

Lami nodded. “Yhup!”

Oh, this wasn’t a gift.

It was a test.

###Author Note:Hi everyone, A.C. here. Crown of Velúndé has just launched on Royal Road!

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