Chapter: 498 Bonus - Torrap, Winston, Ron, Gobban, and Talax (Patreon)

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Torrap gasped for breath, despite his magically enhanced physique.

Not that I have any magic left by this point.

They’d been out of the Ironhold for only a quarter hour, but he’d already fully bled off all his hold-granted power. He still had the lingering effects of having had that enhancement, which was the only reason he was capable of the three mile sprint through the subtly rolling plains that their Terror had led them on so far.

Noclaf had been a Talon for longer than Torrap, and he had managed to keep a scrap of power, but he was panting almost as hard as Torrap just the same.

Even as Torrap stumbled, however, the Terror was there.

The avian flickered into being just ahead of him, sized to knock Torrap upright once more before flickering behind him to bump him back into a headlong run, somehow resulting in the Talon keeping both his pace and his place amidst the group.

The terror bird was flickering around almost constantly by this point in the heedless dash, always where he needed to be to chivvy the Talons in the various clutches back into position.

They were almost back to the portal—Ironhold was leaving that morning, after all—and that meant they were almost to their enforced stretching and break time, at least what counted for a break in the Talons.

Time in the magic-rich environment is a respite. It would also allow their bodies to heal stronger than ever.

The Terror had recognized the potential of that all too quickly, and Torrap and his Clutch had volunteered to be trained by the soulbound companion of the Hold’s Mistress before any other.

The other Clutches currently on this run with them had been voluntold to join them.

Still, it was training like no other. Even training directly with Mistress Tala didn’t see as great a result in their physical capacities. Though, that was because those sessions were focused on combat skills rather than conditioning.

As he stumbled again—and was kept upright by the not-so-tender ministrations of the Terror—Torrap was comforted in the knowledge that soon, every Talon would be encouraged to do this same training.

By that time, he would be used to it.

He was sure he would be.

He had to be.

…

Right?

  *

Winston was more than a bit sad that Irondale was moving on from the site of old Marliweather.

Even though he was new, having only joined the gateless community weeks before this sojourn into the wilds, it had already changed his life.

He’d been a simple cobbler before this, but he’d always loved things of magic. He hadn’t had a family—most women didn’t want to marry a gateless man if they knew, and since he did know, he was always upfront about it. So, when this opportunity presented itself, he’d taken his time to verify it was real, then he’d applied.

To his joy, he’d been accepted. It hadn’t taken too long to sell all he had and make the move. He hadn’t known what he would do within Irondale, but he had known it would be something more.

Besides, he could always step back into shoes if he needed.

Diving in head-first to his new life, he had paid for an Archive recorder, and when Irondale—Ironhold he supposed now—had opened its portal into the wilds, he had spent what time he could out in the countryside, recording walks up and around the rise in the landscape where the city had been and would be built again.

Winston was just grateful that a Talon, Julia, had been kind enough to go with him in case of any danger. There hadn’t been any, but he found he enjoyed her company while he worked.

He’d done as much research as he could in every spare moment, so that his commentary for the various recorded segments would be at least moderately intelligent. Though, if the messages he received from those who’d purchased his recordings were any indication, he was only exactly right about half of the time.

Originally, he hadn’t been having very much success making back the gold he’d spent on the device, that is, until he made it clear that all messages would be included in the recordings on an ongoing basis.

Honestly, he’d only done that because he was getting a bit tired of becoming a go-between for arguing people who reached out to him with conflicting corrections of his commentary.

That had changed everything.

One Archon was now paying him an extra gold per recording to get access first, so that she could respond with a ‘corrective’ message as soon as the recording was available, ensuring that anyone who saw the recording would see her comment.

She had refused to tell him the information beforehand so he could make changes, but that was alright. Her commentaries almost always sparked heated debates, causing people to want to bring in their colleagues for the back-and-forths.

That meant more customers for him.

Others seemed to enjoy arguing with each other about things far, far outside of Winston’s understanding, and they just found his recordings—and the accompanying messages—as a convenient place to do so.

They also took much of the work from his shoulders, by suggesting, requesting, or even outright demanding what the next recordings would cover.

And now that was ending. Irondale was moving on.

He sighed.

Still, he wouldn’t let it get him down. The Mistress of Irondale—all of Ironhold now that there were other mini-areas within the expanded dimension—would go to other interesting places, and he, Winston, would show them to his patrons—those who supported his new-found work.

Until then… Maybe Mistress Lyn would approve my taking recordings for sale within the Ironhold?

It was definitely worth asking.

He was positively giddy with excitement at all the possibilities before him. Though, without any potential danger within the dimension, Julia wouldn’t be needed…

I could probably ask her to come anyway. Who knew? She might even say yes.

Thus, even as the countdown for final closure of the portal out of Ironhold was not quite at its end, Winston set off to find the Administrative head of Irondale with a spring in his step, a message already sent to Julia, requesting her company in the coming days.

  *

Ron stood, internally slack-jawed as he watched the devastation wrought by Mothe—Mistress Tala.

Be better, Ron. She requested ‘Mistress Tala,’ and so I need to model that moniker. He needed to be an example to the rest of the Talons. He’d been put in charge of training their new members, and so he literally set their mindset on most topics that were new to the Talons.

He needed to be better, and he would be.

Still, he was overawed by the spectacle before him, and that made it difficult to really consider anything else—even if his enhanced mind was allowing for quicker thinking than he’d ever hoped to have.

The cone of destruction was… captivating.

He could feel an odd sort of counter-resonance throughout the magic within his body at the power destroying everything before her, before Mistress Tala.

He could see the tight line of magic that connected her open mouth to the cone of destruction, even though he knew that his eyes couldn’t actually detect magic by mundane means.

That was yet another benefit of the gifts they’d been given in rebirth.

He stood beside Mistress Lyn, ready to get between her and any of these magics at a moment’s notice. The power flowing through his body was exactly counter to that in this attack, and he would do his duty to preserve her life.

I, Ron, will protect you from hostile magic at need. A small smile pulled at his lips at that.

Mistress Lyn—for her part—was wide-eyed as she witnessed the marvel of obliteration before them. Though, her wide-eyed stare didn’t seem to be slowing down her hand, which was feverishly taking notes.

Noticing that caused his smile to grow even further.

Yes, he would gladly take the backwash of power if it kept her safe.

  *

Gobban stared at the overwhelming data before him.

It wasn’t overwhelming in quantity. Instead, it was overwhelming in kind.

Reality-nodes could be manipulated, and it wouldn’t irrevocably ruin them.

This changed… everything.

He was insanely grateful that he was on the City Builder Advisory Council, because he knew himself very well. He would never have paid even the small fee for access to these results. He wouldn’t have believed they could be meaningful.

But here those results were.

Here was proof—even if secondhand—that the most basic parts of existence that they knew of were manipulatable.

Even with the monumental nature of the discovery, he shuddered in unrepressed concern. So many people are going to die, trying variations of this.

At least Mistress Tala wasn’t testing and distributing the results of a destructive application of this power. There were already enough of those in Zeme.

As if his thought was a curse, the arrival of an Archive message drew his attention. Mistress Tala was going to test out her endingtree-derived ‘breath’ attack.

He sighed. Now there was a young Archon’s wisdom on full display. She had the keys to stabilizing Zeme itself within her magical power, and she chose to pursue something else, something else bent toward destruction.

He sighed again. He was delaying.

He had already skimmed the reality-node experimental results but hadn’t delved into them. It was time.

Even with his newfound resolve, he’d only been studying for ten minutes or so when another Archive notice came to his attention, and he seized on the distraction.

Oh, it’s just the results of the pointlessly destructive endingtree… breath… Wait… what?

His eyes narrowed as he examined the findings closer.

Farming applications? What the rust?

  *

Talax cackled as he ducked and dodged among his friends through the park. Reveling in the feel of power flowing through him.

They were, once again, playing ‘Talax-tag’ which meant that everyone was working together to try to tag him.

Mom had made it clear that he needed to let them win every so often in order to keep them interested in playing—and so he wasn’t showing off—so he carefully maneuvered over toward where Asher was in the rotating swarm of children trying to reach him.

Asher was his best friend, and if he could let him get the tag, so much the better.

He’d also told Asher that he’d let him get the tag this round. So, that was important.

Mom said it was important to do what he said.

…but then, he came near Estar, and his plans went out the window.

She had a look of intense concentration that his heightened mind and reflexes took in in a passing instant. She was set on tagging him…

Mom said he should be kind to girls…

Then, she’d tag him, too…

Asher would understand. He’d make it up to his friend.

“GOT YOU!” Estar shouted triumphantly, looking to the Talon who was on yard-duty for the children that day.

The Talon glanced to Talax, and the boy gave a small nod.

He’d noticed that he was faster than the adults who had been reborn, and it seemed like he was more observant than most too.

Mom and the Healers said it was because he’d had the power his whole life, and that made sense, he supposed.

His honesty meant that they usually just checked with him, regardless.

Mom was right, being honest had quite a few benefits.

He smiled, turning to Estar even as the Talon confirmed the tag. “Good job, Estar.”

She laughed and gave him a quick hug, “Good game!”

A moment later, she was swept up by a few other kids, all congratulating her on getting their elusive prey.

A tag and a hug… He’d made the right choice.

Asher came over with a grumpy mask across his face. “Friends first, eh?”

“Well…” Talax glanced away. “She’s our friend too.”

“Not your best friend, and you didn’t tell her that you’d let her get the tag this round.”

“Yeah, well the others don’t know that I choose who wins each round. But…” He didn’t really have a good response otherwise. “You can have the knight as your fake friend.”

Asher brightened, even if something seemed a bit off in the look. “Really?”

They each loved ‘claiming’ various things and people as their fake friends, then arguing over whose friends would beat the others, or whose friend each was really.

“You’ll really let me have the knight?”

“Of course.” Talax didn’t recognize the other boy’s slight change in expression until it was too late.

“You mean the knight who’s already my fake friend? Head of my cohort? The one who beat your terror bird.”

Talax stuck out his tongue and gave his friend a raspberry. “A knight could never defeat a terror bird, let alone Terry. He lost fair and square.”

“Hah!” Asher pointed at Talax. “So, you admit that they fought? That the knight was already mine?”

Talax grinned. “Of course he was yours, but then I beat him, and he became mine.”

Asher grimaced, shaking his head in irritation. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just take someone’s friend.”

“Of course I can, but it’s okay. I just gave him back.”

Asher stared, slightly dumbstruck at Talax’s amazing logic.

“I know. I’m so magnanimious.”

“...I don’t think that that’s a word.”

“Sure it is.”

“No… I don’t think it is.”

Talax shook his head. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I’m eight just like you!”

“I’m eight and a half.”

“Exactly.” Asher nodded definitively. “We’re the same age.”

Talax sighed, trusting that the topic had sufficiently moved on. “Come on, let’s play again.”

The other kids had finished congratulating Estar and taken their water break. If they hurried, they could get one more game in before class started again.

Talax grinned as he called to the other kids, letting them know that he was ‘ready.’

Mom said it was better for them to think he was the reason for the breaks rather than them.

It wasn’t always convenient or simple, but he loved his life, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

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