MrReaves
Steamlord
A pair of mules pulls a wooden carriage over a cobbled street that winds between fields of grain and pastures. The driver, dressed in plain farmers’ overalls, peers out at the valley from under his cap when the cart crests a hill. The sight never fails to fill him with awe, even though he sees it monthly, when his wares are brought to the market at the foothills of the greatest city in Naedria.
A city in levels, of stone and brass, great pillars supporting platforms stacked partly over one another like scales; rails snake above and between them, carrying people and goods on skytrams. It climbs to the base of a sword that has been stabbed point-first into the river valley, rivaling a mountain in size, and in the light of midday its stone gleams as though it were steel.
The farmer remembers asking Father what had carried the Godsword, and Father had recalled the Time of Titans. For days after, he’d awoken to nightmares of creatures that could crush his town underfoot.
The mules comes to a sudden stop and bristle when they spot a figure approaching on the side of the road. He does not need to wait to hear the hissing and rattling; the marching gait is unmistakable. The farmer jumps from his perch to take his mules by the reins and still their nerves, but his own heart flutters when the Stiff closes in, and comes to a halt not five feet from him.
The man of brass plates and steel bolts, carrying a halberd and glowing with an eerie green light from within, fixes its cold, pupilless emerald eyes on him, making unknowable assessments. The farmer can think of nothing to do but tip his hat. A few more terse seconds, and the Stiff’s head snaps away and it marches off. The man releases his held breath shakily.
“The Stiffs keep us safe?” His father had spat once. “From bandits, sure, soldiers and wolves, and things that live in the dark. But not from their masters, not from mages. And a man with any brain fears mages above all.”
Before the farmer climbed back onto his carriage, he picked up a pebble from the road. With a call, the mules began to move once more. He opened his hand and looked to the pebble, which softly rose an inch or two from his palm on a stream of the faintest white light.
He’d held no secrets for Father. None but this one. It would’ve broken the old man’s heart.
~~~
Phicus gave the door to Master Gütrichs' magisterium two sharp knocks, a feat given the thickness of the stack of paper in his hands. A mechanical eye set into the richly decorated wood sprang open, looking him up and down with a glowing purple iris set in black stone, before retracting. The door then split down the middle and its halves retracted into the wall with a soft scraping sound, permitting entry.
His master only gave him a glance from the workdesk riddled with finely crafted metal parts and old, dusty tomes. As he approached, he tried not to look out the tall windows to the city sprawling far below. "Yes, Phicus, what is it?" Gütrichs started curtly, his attention focused on a glowing instrument before him.
"Sir, the Captain of the Tempest Guard thinks it time for you to see to the Artifice Knights." The scribe-assistant replied. "Preliminary testing of the arms- and their wielders- has yielded no dangers to the Fragment stability, so with your approval of the lineup, we may move on to the next phase." Master Gütrichs arched an eyebrow. “If I did not think Leanna could procure a workable lineup, I would not have asked her.” He grumbled. Phicus nodded. “It’s a formality, Sir, but an important one, I’m afraid.” With a sigh, Gütrichs arose from his high-backed swiveling chair. “I suppose I might as well see whose hands my creations have ended up in.”
“The subjects have been gathered on the Guard’s grounds, Master. Sixth Circle.” Phicus said, trailing out the door behind the magister. “Shall I call for a private skytram?” Gütrichs did not break his brisk gait. “Nonsense. We will take the lift and be there in half the time.” He replied, to Phicus’ dismay.
On the outer balcony of the Seventh Circle, the city’s highest and smallest plateau housing only the Assembly’s most important members, laboratories and seminaries, a large cylinder of wrought steel and glass stood separate from the grand halls. Within, a circular walkway surrounded a central spire with brass teeth, which large gears and a complicated mesh of wires and weights allowed the walkway to ascend or descend.
Gütrichs activated the lift with an idle wave of his hand over the tablet on the inner fence, and it rattled to life, descending with some speeds. As it dropped through the circle’s floor and then revealed a bird’s eye view of the Sixth beneath, Phicus gripped his papers with one hand and kept the other firmly on his focus, a wand of ivory tipped with drakeglass.
His master spoke up over the clunking of gears, surveying the city with hands clasped behind his back. “Since it is only my approval we wait on, I am to assume all went well with the passing of the project’s motion?” Phicus did so wish his mentor would keep the slightest bit up to date with things outside his laboratory. “By a certain definition, Sir. The Exalted Council was split, and it only passed by a difference of one vote.” He replied. “Some, naturally, would support any project you deem to put your name to, let alone head. Others saw good reason to explore the potential of the Fragments as a method of bolstering the ranks.”
Phicus rustled through some papers at the back of his stack to scan the transcriptions. “The detractors seemed mostly concerned over the sheer amount of requested resources being allocated to a project with a… volatile track record, when several others of the Assembly’s ventures are already stretched thin.” He continued. “Then, a good number protested the idea of allocating the Fragments to young, unproven novices rather than, say, well-trained Champions.”
Gütrichs scoffed. “Last that I checked, our preeminent Champions are quite busy keeping back the Unmade Kings’ forces, and the fiends of the night, to name a few.” He said. “They do not understand that there is no greater test for these armaments than to be wielded by the spirited and inventive. A Champion would wield a weapon exactly as it is intended; these youngsters will push them to their limits, in ways we will not expect.”
“I hope more will come to see it that way, Sir, before the first assessment is held.” Phicus agreed tentatively. “I somewhat suspect that the disapproval may have been in part due to the ‘lowlier’ backgrounds of some of the prospective knights.” He admitted.
~~~
Leanna Thaumatan, sometimes-mercenary, currently Private Envoy to the Office of Iziquil Gütrichs, observed her team from the balustraded platform from which steps led down to a cobble square. The straw-and-burlap dummies, at the very least, were no match for the young fighters she had set loose on them so their familiarity with the weapons they had received only earlier this morning could develop. They already seemed like an ensemble in their Ivermore uniformers - black pants, white blouse, deep purple waistcoat, though none were wearing the cumbersome black overcoat in this heat. Though the warmth of late summer was nearly too much in her armor, Leanna had respite from the shadow of the Godsword that seemed to be almost cleaving the Circle in twain.
When she heard the clunking of the approaching lift, she brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and leaned on the balustrade with her arms crossed. The old wizard was dressed in opulent and immaculately kept robes of blue and gold, peering at her with stony eyes set deep in a wrinkled face, over a voluminous white mane that fell to his navel. He approached with his scribe in tow, a subdued man whose largely unkempt black locks of hair and stubble spoke of many missed hours of sleep. “My Envoy.” The old man said by way of greeting, and Leanna returned a nod. “I’m afraid that since our last consultation, I’ve been quite preoccupied in my workspace. Care to enlighten me about your endeavors, and the state of our newest regiment?”
“Sure.” Leanna said. “Per your advice, I took to Ivermore two weeks ago. The administrators were not too charmed the idea with bringing their novices into armed conflict, but interestingly, the mention of your involvement seemed to open many doors.” Gütrichs gave no sign of finding this in any way surprising. “Word travelled fast, unfortunately, that I was recruiting for something unique- not even what, and yet the little tykes beset me. I spent most of two weeks weeding out the mages who felt they deserved my attention merely for their name.”
“I filtered my options by every directive you gave me. I looked for novices with training in armed combat, not just arcana. Once I had a shortlist, I let them show off their craft to me, even sparred a few.” Master Gütrichs piqued a brow. “And did any prove an even match?” Leanna couldn’t see if he was smiling, but thought he might be. “Of course not.” She replied. “But how long they held out, and how they handled losing, gave me some indication too.”
She motioned for her employer to step toward the balustrade and survey the team. “You asked for five, and these are the ones I felt most secure in. They’re spirited, show potential to grow. All have much to learn, naturally, but most of them had to fight to even get into Ivermore. I took the liberty of having their arms of choice prototyped by the artificers. Pending your approval, they’ll be implanted with the Fragments following the initiation ceremony.”
Gütrichs clasped his hands. “Very well. Talk me through each of them, the pertinent qualities.” He said. Leanna pointed to the figure furthest to their left, a tall and broad-chested young man who could be mistaken for older with his scruffy, straw-coloured beard. He was hacking at the straw dummy with precise jabs and cuts, arms straining. “Nagengast, of Altricht. If you’ve never been, it’s a quaint place. Values its traditions. He’s the last in a line of noble soldiers, and they aren’t fond of the Assembly, but he’s more than proven himself.” She started. “His mentors call him diligent, if not particularly given to the arcane- except a subset of metamancy concerning sound and vibration, which he excels at.”
“Vibromancy?” Phicus piped up. “Right. Of the pupils who’ve shown martial gifts, he ranks near the top, but I truly felt there was virtue in his inclusion after we sparred. He grandstands, plays the fool, but he’s as strong as he looks and equally swift. He knows to use the reach of his poleaxe to his benefit.” Leanna continued. “He’s gallant, a good sport even when I knocked him on his ass. You’d be hard-fought to find a better figurehead for this group, and I don’t think he would mind.”
She indicated to the second novice from the left. “Jamrock, of Valley’s Edge.” The short, red-gold-haired girl seemed to have no trouble lifting her sizable staked gauntlets and making fast jabs at a dummy that had already broken in a places. “She’s a special case; came recommended by Master Adniel, who apparently met her in Valley’s Edge and was taken by her skills in tinkering.” She said. “Not long after returning, he apparently pulled some strings at Ivermore to have them offer her a full scholarship, and it’s not hard to see why. She’s prodigious. Even the gauntlets we made for her are based on her own designs; she was using drakeglass shells to amplify explosive cavitation spells. Frankly, a miracle she never blew her arms off.” Leanna mused. “She learned not just to mine with them, but take down the denizens of caves, too. She’ll do more when the Fragment powers her gauntlets; she won’t be limited by shells, just by how well she controls the power.”
Leanna thought back to her interviews and sparring with the girl. “She’s not the kind of disciplined, trained fighter you’d find in the ranks of Champions, and her bodily strength may be underdeveloped, but she’s got the vitality to get back up quickly when she’s knocked down. She’s steadfast, never gives in and has her heart in the right place. There’s not much more we could ask for.”
She looked to the third Knight-prospect. The taller young man with short-cropped black hair was using his hands much like the girl, though his weapons seemed much smaller in make, wristguards and brass knuckle-caps with intricate wiring between them. Currently, he was honing the strength of his jabs- not much else he could do against the stationary target. “Yangero, of Gelwave, and thus unsurprisingly, a healer. Far more skilled at that art then any other field of arcana- seems to resent that fact, though.” She told the wizard. “Transferred to Ivermore at the start of this year to further his education. All the teachers I asked, though, say he barely scrapes by with his theorem work for lack of effort, but that he aces his practical exams. He was pleasant but impassionate, until we stepped into the ring; doing fisticuffs with him put a fire in his eyes.” She watched Jaro dance on his haunches, keeping balance from every angle. “He’s tactically minded, driven to fight, and with his abilities he can keep the team in shape. There wasn’t a reason not to include him.”
Master Gütrichs’s gaze had already drifted to the next subject. Each time the fair-skinned, blonde young man struck out with his longsword, small wisps of blue flame seemed to flare from his skin even though the weapon was unpowered, as though he could scarcely contain it. “Celestine?” The old mage inquired, and Leanna gave a nod. “Well spotted. Weisse Feonix, latest in a long and honoured line of pyromancers. He has an exceptional record at offensive elementalism- in fact, I caught rumour he was sent here to control his powers rather than grow them, after he set alight the family’s estate. A diligent student, apparently, even if his powers do not seem to stretch beyond fire.”
“His name should lend some credence to the Artifice Knights.” Phicus mused aloud. “It’s quite possible.” Leanna replied. “At any rate, he is a powerful combatant; doubly so once his longsword is powered and channels his art at higher efficiency. To be truthful, he actually challenged me when we sparred; I could tell he’s been honing his swordsmanship since he could hold a blade.”
“A valuable asset, then.” Gütrichs noted. “And the girl?”
Leanna looked to her final acquisition, the girl who was striking true on her mark with a rapier, despite the fact that a crimson cloth had been wrapped around her head, obscuring her eyes, stark against her auburn hair. “The wildcard. Casanova, of Sycaria.” She said. “Heiress to one of the great crafters of Sycarian steel blades, for all that’s worth today. Lost her sight after a duel gone awry, is all I managed to sniff out; and yet, she hasn’t slowed.” There seemed to be a hint of admiration in Leanna’s voice. “She has drakeglass prosthetics, but isn’t dependent on them. I thought there would be a little challenge in fighting a blind girl, but it’s her psionism and divining skills that have kept her formidable, all things considered. She sensed the vibration of my movements through the stone, my essence through psionic wavelengths, and put up a fair fight without even involving her prosthetics. Only to prove something to herself, I think.” She shrugged. “I’m eager to see what else will become the girl. And her story may be the most inspiring of all.”
The old wizard Gütrichs turned to Leanna. “I can’t see a fault with the novices you’ve selected. You have my blessings to continue with this lineup, Envoy. As well you knew.” Leanna nodded in agreement. The old man would never have denied her and have her waste another week or two finding new candidates, anyway. He had more pertinent matters to attend to. “The initiation ceremony will be prepared for tomorrow’s eve, then. Since the Knights fall under your purview, your presence will be required for the swearing-in.” She cocked her head. “Perhaps a short speech would be in order?”
Master Gütrichs grumbled something into his beard, and sighed. “I suppose it’s to be a historic occasion, if the concept of the Artifice Knights proves itself. Very well, I will attend.” He inclined his head. “Lady Thaumatan.” He said, and departed. Phicus gave a friendly wave before following the elder mage back to the lift.
“I neglected to ask before, Phicus…” Gütrichs started when they reached the platform and the glass door fell shut. “Whose vote did we swing to our favour to pass the motion unadjusted?” Phicus looked to his papers again. “That would have been Grand Consigner Brae Ashfield, Sir. On the grounds that, I quote-”He pulled a face. “The pupils of a Fifth Circle institution are, if nothing else, expendable.” Master Gütrichs did not reply. From behind him, Phicus could not see the shadow that befell the old man’s face.
~~~
Leanna pushed open the oak door with her pack of novices in tow, most of whom seemed to be varying degrees of elated and intimidated by the earlier news that their inclusion in the rank of Artifice Knights would soon be fact (even if the rank had only just been invented, and none knew what it truly entailed). They stepped into a large open hall, lit by gaslight and sunrays coming through the roof half constructed of glass set into iron frames.
It was a sober quarters by Sixth Circle standards, and therefore luxurious to most of its new inhabitants. One of the long walls was split into two levels with various rooms- as they would later uncover, a large enclosed kitchen (surely manned by staff around mealtimes), bathing amenities (with hot water available through brass taps!) and an open storage on the ground floor. Above that, six evenly spaced doors with nameplates (one empty) set into walls of plaster and wood, which led to bedrooms with ample furnishing. A set of wide stairs wrapped around the lower storage up to the gallery of bedroom doors.
Before them as they entered was a large dining table with heavy oaken chairs, but the rest of the hall seemed taken up by two features; a square platform walled on three sides by stone, targets stacked in the corners, and secondly a library with seating and bookcases filled to the brim, as well as a table laden with alchemical instruments and a few tinkerer’s choice pieces.
“We did this up before you were even picked.” Leanna started, her voice calling the immediate attention of the Knights; they had learned, if nothing else, to listen closely to Lady Thaumatan’s every word. “It should serve every purpose it needs to further both your education as arcanists, and your training as Knights. This all may seem like great privilege, but do not forget you will also be held to higher standards than any of your peers in Godsword.” She assured them. “What exactly your responsibilities will entail is nebulous to you still, I know- this is a tumultuous and unsure time for us all, frankly. Much will be cleared up following your initiation and the start of your training proper.”
She looked to the weapons that the former students of Ivermore still held on their person. “Keep your armaments close. They are not, as you know, completed, but they are priceless artifacts by their make and much of your future will depend on your handling of it. For now, grow accustomed to one another’s company. Your cohesion is as vital as your individuality, though much of it will come with time. You will be awoken at dawn tomorrow, and are expected at the same Guard’s field as today at seven-thirty sharp.”
She calmly made for the door, but turned to face the crew again just before stepping through. “Oh, and since I was assured of your participation, I took the liberty of using your measurements for Ivermore’s school uniforms to have your armors crafted. They’re on stands in your bedrooms. Wear them to training tomorrow.” It was all she had to say, but still her gaze lingered for a second on their wide-eyed faces. In the chaos of stringing together a project this great in scale in so short a time, it had become easy to forget who they were drawing into the ranks. Children, they looked like to her. Would their missions ever lead them into greater danger than any their age should face?
“Rest well.” She said, and pulled close the door.
~~~
OOC NOTES;
A city in levels, of stone and brass, great pillars supporting platforms stacked partly over one another like scales; rails snake above and between them, carrying people and goods on skytrams. It climbs to the base of a sword that has been stabbed point-first into the river valley, rivaling a mountain in size, and in the light of midday its stone gleams as though it were steel.
The farmer remembers asking Father what had carried the Godsword, and Father had recalled the Time of Titans. For days after, he’d awoken to nightmares of creatures that could crush his town underfoot.
The mules comes to a sudden stop and bristle when they spot a figure approaching on the side of the road. He does not need to wait to hear the hissing and rattling; the marching gait is unmistakable. The farmer jumps from his perch to take his mules by the reins and still their nerves, but his own heart flutters when the Stiff closes in, and comes to a halt not five feet from him.
The man of brass plates and steel bolts, carrying a halberd and glowing with an eerie green light from within, fixes its cold, pupilless emerald eyes on him, making unknowable assessments. The farmer can think of nothing to do but tip his hat. A few more terse seconds, and the Stiff’s head snaps away and it marches off. The man releases his held breath shakily.
“The Stiffs keep us safe?” His father had spat once. “From bandits, sure, soldiers and wolves, and things that live in the dark. But not from their masters, not from mages. And a man with any brain fears mages above all.”
Before the farmer climbed back onto his carriage, he picked up a pebble from the road. With a call, the mules began to move once more. He opened his hand and looked to the pebble, which softly rose an inch or two from his palm on a stream of the faintest white light.
He’d held no secrets for Father. None but this one. It would’ve broken the old man’s heart.
~~~
Phicus gave the door to Master Gütrichs' magisterium two sharp knocks, a feat given the thickness of the stack of paper in his hands. A mechanical eye set into the richly decorated wood sprang open, looking him up and down with a glowing purple iris set in black stone, before retracting. The door then split down the middle and its halves retracted into the wall with a soft scraping sound, permitting entry.
His master only gave him a glance from the workdesk riddled with finely crafted metal parts and old, dusty tomes. As he approached, he tried not to look out the tall windows to the city sprawling far below. "Yes, Phicus, what is it?" Gütrichs started curtly, his attention focused on a glowing instrument before him.
"Sir, the Captain of the Tempest Guard thinks it time for you to see to the Artifice Knights." The scribe-assistant replied. "Preliminary testing of the arms- and their wielders- has yielded no dangers to the Fragment stability, so with your approval of the lineup, we may move on to the next phase." Master Gütrichs arched an eyebrow. “If I did not think Leanna could procure a workable lineup, I would not have asked her.” He grumbled. Phicus nodded. “It’s a formality, Sir, but an important one, I’m afraid.” With a sigh, Gütrichs arose from his high-backed swiveling chair. “I suppose I might as well see whose hands my creations have ended up in.”
“The subjects have been gathered on the Guard’s grounds, Master. Sixth Circle.” Phicus said, trailing out the door behind the magister. “Shall I call for a private skytram?” Gütrichs did not break his brisk gait. “Nonsense. We will take the lift and be there in half the time.” He replied, to Phicus’ dismay.
On the outer balcony of the Seventh Circle, the city’s highest and smallest plateau housing only the Assembly’s most important members, laboratories and seminaries, a large cylinder of wrought steel and glass stood separate from the grand halls. Within, a circular walkway surrounded a central spire with brass teeth, which large gears and a complicated mesh of wires and weights allowed the walkway to ascend or descend.
Gütrichs activated the lift with an idle wave of his hand over the tablet on the inner fence, and it rattled to life, descending with some speeds. As it dropped through the circle’s floor and then revealed a bird’s eye view of the Sixth beneath, Phicus gripped his papers with one hand and kept the other firmly on his focus, a wand of ivory tipped with drakeglass.
His master spoke up over the clunking of gears, surveying the city with hands clasped behind his back. “Since it is only my approval we wait on, I am to assume all went well with the passing of the project’s motion?” Phicus did so wish his mentor would keep the slightest bit up to date with things outside his laboratory. “By a certain definition, Sir. The Exalted Council was split, and it only passed by a difference of one vote.” He replied. “Some, naturally, would support any project you deem to put your name to, let alone head. Others saw good reason to explore the potential of the Fragments as a method of bolstering the ranks.”
Phicus rustled through some papers at the back of his stack to scan the transcriptions. “The detractors seemed mostly concerned over the sheer amount of requested resources being allocated to a project with a… volatile track record, when several others of the Assembly’s ventures are already stretched thin.” He continued. “Then, a good number protested the idea of allocating the Fragments to young, unproven novices rather than, say, well-trained Champions.”
Gütrichs scoffed. “Last that I checked, our preeminent Champions are quite busy keeping back the Unmade Kings’ forces, and the fiends of the night, to name a few.” He said. “They do not understand that there is no greater test for these armaments than to be wielded by the spirited and inventive. A Champion would wield a weapon exactly as it is intended; these youngsters will push them to their limits, in ways we will not expect.”
“I hope more will come to see it that way, Sir, before the first assessment is held.” Phicus agreed tentatively. “I somewhat suspect that the disapproval may have been in part due to the ‘lowlier’ backgrounds of some of the prospective knights.” He admitted.
~~~
Leanna Thaumatan, sometimes-mercenary, currently Private Envoy to the Office of Iziquil Gütrichs, observed her team from the balustraded platform from which steps led down to a cobble square. The straw-and-burlap dummies, at the very least, were no match for the young fighters she had set loose on them so their familiarity with the weapons they had received only earlier this morning could develop. They already seemed like an ensemble in their Ivermore uniformers - black pants, white blouse, deep purple waistcoat, though none were wearing the cumbersome black overcoat in this heat. Though the warmth of late summer was nearly too much in her armor, Leanna had respite from the shadow of the Godsword that seemed to be almost cleaving the Circle in twain.
When she heard the clunking of the approaching lift, she brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and leaned on the balustrade with her arms crossed. The old wizard was dressed in opulent and immaculately kept robes of blue and gold, peering at her with stony eyes set deep in a wrinkled face, over a voluminous white mane that fell to his navel. He approached with his scribe in tow, a subdued man whose largely unkempt black locks of hair and stubble spoke of many missed hours of sleep. “My Envoy.” The old man said by way of greeting, and Leanna returned a nod. “I’m afraid that since our last consultation, I’ve been quite preoccupied in my workspace. Care to enlighten me about your endeavors, and the state of our newest regiment?”
“Sure.” Leanna said. “Per your advice, I took to Ivermore two weeks ago. The administrators were not too charmed the idea with bringing their novices into armed conflict, but interestingly, the mention of your involvement seemed to open many doors.” Gütrichs gave no sign of finding this in any way surprising. “Word travelled fast, unfortunately, that I was recruiting for something unique- not even what, and yet the little tykes beset me. I spent most of two weeks weeding out the mages who felt they deserved my attention merely for their name.”
“I filtered my options by every directive you gave me. I looked for novices with training in armed combat, not just arcana. Once I had a shortlist, I let them show off their craft to me, even sparred a few.” Master Gütrichs piqued a brow. “And did any prove an even match?” Leanna couldn’t see if he was smiling, but thought he might be. “Of course not.” She replied. “But how long they held out, and how they handled losing, gave me some indication too.”
She motioned for her employer to step toward the balustrade and survey the team. “You asked for five, and these are the ones I felt most secure in. They’re spirited, show potential to grow. All have much to learn, naturally, but most of them had to fight to even get into Ivermore. I took the liberty of having their arms of choice prototyped by the artificers. Pending your approval, they’ll be implanted with the Fragments following the initiation ceremony.”
Gütrichs clasped his hands. “Very well. Talk me through each of them, the pertinent qualities.” He said. Leanna pointed to the figure furthest to their left, a tall and broad-chested young man who could be mistaken for older with his scruffy, straw-coloured beard. He was hacking at the straw dummy with precise jabs and cuts, arms straining. “Nagengast, of Altricht. If you’ve never been, it’s a quaint place. Values its traditions. He’s the last in a line of noble soldiers, and they aren’t fond of the Assembly, but he’s more than proven himself.” She started. “His mentors call him diligent, if not particularly given to the arcane- except a subset of metamancy concerning sound and vibration, which he excels at.”
“Vibromancy?” Phicus piped up. “Right. Of the pupils who’ve shown martial gifts, he ranks near the top, but I truly felt there was virtue in his inclusion after we sparred. He grandstands, plays the fool, but he’s as strong as he looks and equally swift. He knows to use the reach of his poleaxe to his benefit.” Leanna continued. “He’s gallant, a good sport even when I knocked him on his ass. You’d be hard-fought to find a better figurehead for this group, and I don’t think he would mind.”
She indicated to the second novice from the left. “Jamrock, of Valley’s Edge.” The short, red-gold-haired girl seemed to have no trouble lifting her sizable staked gauntlets and making fast jabs at a dummy that had already broken in a places. “She’s a special case; came recommended by Master Adniel, who apparently met her in Valley’s Edge and was taken by her skills in tinkering.” She said. “Not long after returning, he apparently pulled some strings at Ivermore to have them offer her a full scholarship, and it’s not hard to see why. She’s prodigious. Even the gauntlets we made for her are based on her own designs; she was using drakeglass shells to amplify explosive cavitation spells. Frankly, a miracle she never blew her arms off.” Leanna mused. “She learned not just to mine with them, but take down the denizens of caves, too. She’ll do more when the Fragment powers her gauntlets; she won’t be limited by shells, just by how well she controls the power.”
Leanna thought back to her interviews and sparring with the girl. “She’s not the kind of disciplined, trained fighter you’d find in the ranks of Champions, and her bodily strength may be underdeveloped, but she’s got the vitality to get back up quickly when she’s knocked down. She’s steadfast, never gives in and has her heart in the right place. There’s not much more we could ask for.”
She looked to the third Knight-prospect. The taller young man with short-cropped black hair was using his hands much like the girl, though his weapons seemed much smaller in make, wristguards and brass knuckle-caps with intricate wiring between them. Currently, he was honing the strength of his jabs- not much else he could do against the stationary target. “Yangero, of Gelwave, and thus unsurprisingly, a healer. Far more skilled at that art then any other field of arcana- seems to resent that fact, though.” She told the wizard. “Transferred to Ivermore at the start of this year to further his education. All the teachers I asked, though, say he barely scrapes by with his theorem work for lack of effort, but that he aces his practical exams. He was pleasant but impassionate, until we stepped into the ring; doing fisticuffs with him put a fire in his eyes.” She watched Jaro dance on his haunches, keeping balance from every angle. “He’s tactically minded, driven to fight, and with his abilities he can keep the team in shape. There wasn’t a reason not to include him.”
Master Gütrichs’s gaze had already drifted to the next subject. Each time the fair-skinned, blonde young man struck out with his longsword, small wisps of blue flame seemed to flare from his skin even though the weapon was unpowered, as though he could scarcely contain it. “Celestine?” The old mage inquired, and Leanna gave a nod. “Well spotted. Weisse Feonix, latest in a long and honoured line of pyromancers. He has an exceptional record at offensive elementalism- in fact, I caught rumour he was sent here to control his powers rather than grow them, after he set alight the family’s estate. A diligent student, apparently, even if his powers do not seem to stretch beyond fire.”
“His name should lend some credence to the Artifice Knights.” Phicus mused aloud. “It’s quite possible.” Leanna replied. “At any rate, he is a powerful combatant; doubly so once his longsword is powered and channels his art at higher efficiency. To be truthful, he actually challenged me when we sparred; I could tell he’s been honing his swordsmanship since he could hold a blade.”
“A valuable asset, then.” Gütrichs noted. “And the girl?”
Leanna looked to her final acquisition, the girl who was striking true on her mark with a rapier, despite the fact that a crimson cloth had been wrapped around her head, obscuring her eyes, stark against her auburn hair. “The wildcard. Casanova, of Sycaria.” She said. “Heiress to one of the great crafters of Sycarian steel blades, for all that’s worth today. Lost her sight after a duel gone awry, is all I managed to sniff out; and yet, she hasn’t slowed.” There seemed to be a hint of admiration in Leanna’s voice. “She has drakeglass prosthetics, but isn’t dependent on them. I thought there would be a little challenge in fighting a blind girl, but it’s her psionism and divining skills that have kept her formidable, all things considered. She sensed the vibration of my movements through the stone, my essence through psionic wavelengths, and put up a fair fight without even involving her prosthetics. Only to prove something to herself, I think.” She shrugged. “I’m eager to see what else will become the girl. And her story may be the most inspiring of all.”
The old wizard Gütrichs turned to Leanna. “I can’t see a fault with the novices you’ve selected. You have my blessings to continue with this lineup, Envoy. As well you knew.” Leanna nodded in agreement. The old man would never have denied her and have her waste another week or two finding new candidates, anyway. He had more pertinent matters to attend to. “The initiation ceremony will be prepared for tomorrow’s eve, then. Since the Knights fall under your purview, your presence will be required for the swearing-in.” She cocked her head. “Perhaps a short speech would be in order?”
Master Gütrichs grumbled something into his beard, and sighed. “I suppose it’s to be a historic occasion, if the concept of the Artifice Knights proves itself. Very well, I will attend.” He inclined his head. “Lady Thaumatan.” He said, and departed. Phicus gave a friendly wave before following the elder mage back to the lift.
“I neglected to ask before, Phicus…” Gütrichs started when they reached the platform and the glass door fell shut. “Whose vote did we swing to our favour to pass the motion unadjusted?” Phicus looked to his papers again. “That would have been Grand Consigner Brae Ashfield, Sir. On the grounds that, I quote-”He pulled a face. “The pupils of a Fifth Circle institution are, if nothing else, expendable.” Master Gütrichs did not reply. From behind him, Phicus could not see the shadow that befell the old man’s face.
~~~
Leanna pushed open the oak door with her pack of novices in tow, most of whom seemed to be varying degrees of elated and intimidated by the earlier news that their inclusion in the rank of Artifice Knights would soon be fact (even if the rank had only just been invented, and none knew what it truly entailed). They stepped into a large open hall, lit by gaslight and sunrays coming through the roof half constructed of glass set into iron frames.
It was a sober quarters by Sixth Circle standards, and therefore luxurious to most of its new inhabitants. One of the long walls was split into two levels with various rooms- as they would later uncover, a large enclosed kitchen (surely manned by staff around mealtimes), bathing amenities (with hot water available through brass taps!) and an open storage on the ground floor. Above that, six evenly spaced doors with nameplates (one empty) set into walls of plaster and wood, which led to bedrooms with ample furnishing. A set of wide stairs wrapped around the lower storage up to the gallery of bedroom doors.
Before them as they entered was a large dining table with heavy oaken chairs, but the rest of the hall seemed taken up by two features; a square platform walled on three sides by stone, targets stacked in the corners, and secondly a library with seating and bookcases filled to the brim, as well as a table laden with alchemical instruments and a few tinkerer’s choice pieces.
“We did this up before you were even picked.” Leanna started, her voice calling the immediate attention of the Knights; they had learned, if nothing else, to listen closely to Lady Thaumatan’s every word. “It should serve every purpose it needs to further both your education as arcanists, and your training as Knights. This all may seem like great privilege, but do not forget you will also be held to higher standards than any of your peers in Godsword.” She assured them. “What exactly your responsibilities will entail is nebulous to you still, I know- this is a tumultuous and unsure time for us all, frankly. Much will be cleared up following your initiation and the start of your training proper.”
She looked to the weapons that the former students of Ivermore still held on their person. “Keep your armaments close. They are not, as you know, completed, but they are priceless artifacts by their make and much of your future will depend on your handling of it. For now, grow accustomed to one another’s company. Your cohesion is as vital as your individuality, though much of it will come with time. You will be awoken at dawn tomorrow, and are expected at the same Guard’s field as today at seven-thirty sharp.”
She calmly made for the door, but turned to face the crew again just before stepping through. “Oh, and since I was assured of your participation, I took the liberty of using your measurements for Ivermore’s school uniforms to have your armors crafted. They’re on stands in your bedrooms. Wear them to training tomorrow.” It was all she had to say, but still her gaze lingered for a second on their wide-eyed faces. In the chaos of stringing together a project this great in scale in so short a time, it had become easy to forget who they were drawing into the ranks. Children, they looked like to her. Would their missions ever lead them into greater danger than any their age should face?
“Rest well.” She said, and pulled close the door.
~~~
OOC NOTES;
- As indicated, the weapons are currently unpowered as the Godsword Fragments are not yet implanted. Play them as if they are regular, if supremely crafted metal weapons for now.
- Over the past two weeks, the PCs have been officially removed from their studies at Ivermore and fallen under the employ of the Arcanist Assembly, specifically the department of legendary artificer Master Gütrichs who is renowned for his hand in the inception of the automatons that ended the Totality Wars. They have been kept largely in the dark and know only that they are part of a project to test the efficacy of a new genre of weaponry that is not enchanted in a normal fashion, but will be powered by some unheard of, much greater source called a “fragment”. A fragment of what?
- “Champions” are defenders of the realm, who carry both blades and spells to enforce the might of the Arcanist Assembly. The Artifice Knights won’t quite be Champions- not lesser than, but just different altogether.
- The armor is part leather and layered fabrics, also partially enchanted platemail covering the vital areas, arms and lower legs, all in a colour scheme of immaculate white, cerulean, and chrome. It would likely be slightly personalized to your character to optimize their fighting efficiency- feel free to use your imagination!
- Contact me in the OOC thread or PM with any further questions if you get stuck or are unsure on any matter.
