Rubbing his hands over his face in annoyance, Archmage Jennings muttered to himself, “It’s going to take forever for these fools to clear all this out.”
In front of him, above his desk, he stared blankly at the updated maps he’d been able to create now that he knew what to look for. The entire mountain range was indeed infested with kobald cities, each one filled to the brim with kobalds and spawning chambers. Worse yet, he could see at least five cities that had active portals to the elemental plane from which their pattern had emerged.
Like almost all sentient species in the world, the kobald’s ancestry could be traced back to another plane. Kobalds, by their very nature, yearned to reconnect with where they’d come from. When their societies advanced enough, they inevitably began attempting to restructure the local material plane to be more like their ancestral home.
Already, he could see some of the deeper caves that they’d carved out taking on the aspects of the elemental plane to which they’d been connected. If those portals weren’t closed, and the essence in the area not fixed, in a hundred years the entire mountain range might end up vanishing from the world, leaving a scarred echo that the Populators would end up having to deal with.
Planar dynamics was always a tricky subject to comprehend, and as the preeminent authority on the subject, he was one of the few people in the kingdom who understood how annoying the situation could potentially turn out. Granted, there was plenty of time to deal with it. But, everything would have been much simpler if the city had just fallen and a new population could have been reinstalled after more competent teams had been brought in to deal with the problem.
However, now the dwarves were here, and Dorchester was most likely not going to fall.
At least he now understood why the Tower of Fate had not gone out of its way to save this city and instead planned around its fall. Had he been aware of how thorough the kobald infestation was, he might have made the same call.
Yet, that was no longer an option. Whether the king had intended to set events down this path or not, there was no longer any way to avoid relying on the local forces to deal with this. Theoretically, he could try and convince the locals to ask for help, but he doubted it. They’d likely not want to give up their power or allow higher-level houses to take over. He and the city were stuck with what they had.
Seeing that the king had managed to get the dwarves involved, Jennings couldn’t help but admit that the man truly was inexplicably skilled in the game. The hells be damned man was a hundred moves ahead of everyone else and had probably already taken into account that Jennings was just now finding out about the true threat the kobalds represented.
Growling to himself in annoyance, Jennings opened his link to check on the Tower of Magic’s progress in retuning the array for the locals to understand the scope of what they were facing.
It looked like he still had a day or two before word got out. He could work with that.
He’d have to make a few appearances and play into the all-knowing aspect of his position, but he could do a great deal to soften the news. If he handled this carefully, he might even be able to hint that the kobalds were the real reason he was here in Dorchester in the first place.
He’d also have to find those damnable former evaluators who are now working with Lord Walker. They continually managed to slip his scry trackers, and he had no idea what they were up to. He’d need to be careful with how much he told them, but he’d likely be able to use them to ensure the young anomaly survived this mess.
Lord Walker could not be allowed to permanently die before Jennings had a chance to figure out how he was able to keep his mind intact while being nothing more than a soul.
Tapping his chin in thought, Jennings wondered if it might not be a bad idea to engineer some more controlled deaths for the young man so that he could take a few more readings. Worst case scenario, Lord Walker could probably find another body to take over or possibly even rebuild the one he was using. He’d already practically done it before, and while the circumstances were much more conducive to self-actualization as it was during a material breakdown of the plane, it was possible that his soul had already figured out the process and could now do it under more restricted conditions.
‘The only way to find the answers is to ask the questions,’ he thought to himself, quoting one of his long-moved-on teachers.
—--
After Nero’s surprise smackdown and pep talk, everyone seemed a lot more motivated to train. Although they never managed to reach the intensity that he’d grown used to under Cathleen’s tutelage, they did step up their efforts to push each other. Multiple times Nero found his own training interrupted by having to heal someone or regrow a limb.
Even Peter and Merrick put more effort into their magical training. They both listened closely to Nero’s explanation on how best to conserve and manage their center… or at least they tried to.
“Lord Walker, I believe I understand what you’re trying to say, but I don’t believe center recovery works like that,” Merrick muttered awkwardly.
“Bullshit,” Nero replied while pulling out a book from his personal space and flipping through the pages.
After finding what he was looking for, he said, “Here. It says it right here. ‘Center is the manifested essence of personality that is produced from a person’s identity.’ Look, this entire chapter is about how you can actively regain your center.”
Both Peter and Merrick walked over, intending to stand behind Nero so they could read over his shoulder.
Not wanting to experience two grown men hovering over him, Nero handed Peter the book instead. “Halfway down page two hundred and eight.”
While both of them shared the book, Nero took the opportunity to check on the rest of the team’s training.
Smiling widely, he could see they were beginning to incorporate their abilities into their attacks, both learning how to use them more efficiently and to defend against them. As far as Nero could tell, they were all working hard. He would, however, have to figure something out about their armor, which was being thoroughly destroyed by the constant punishment they were dealing out on each other.
He wasn’t nearly as good at repairing stuff as he was at healing.
‘I really should look into finding some better spells for that,’ he thought to himself.
While he did know a basic ‘repair’ spell, it was insanely expensive in terms of center, and required constant channeling. Instead of using his own understanding together with a person’s identity of how their body ‘should’ look, the ‘repair’ spell he knew worked off the item’s identity alone. If he wasn’t careful, by casting the spell poorly he could end up doing more damage to the item rather than repairing it.
‘I suppose that’s just an inherent difference between trying to use an identity with consciousness versus one without. A piece of armor can’t work with you to tell you where it hurts,’ he remarked to himself.
Back when he’d been training with Cathleen, gear management and repairing stuff hadn’t been all that much of a concern. He had just been wearing training clothes which he ended up replacing every day when he couldn’t repair them himself.
‘Maybe I should have them train without armor?’ he wondered as he tapped his chin in thought.
“Lord Walker, this chapter is indeed about center recovery techniques, but nothing in here discusses anything like you’re proposing,” Merrick said, bringing Nero’s attention back to what they were doing.
“Are you crazy? That’s exactly what we were talking about. How to keep your center levels high enough to keep casting indefinitely,” he replied.
Merrick and Peter shared a look, with Peter’s expression making it clear that he wasn’t going to be the one to say anything.
Rolling his eyes at his fellow mage, Merrick turned back to Nero and said, “Respectfully, Lord Walker. I believe you may have misinterpreted some of what the author was trying to say. These techniques are a form of active mediation in which you focus the entirety of your mind on your identity. Both the breathing and mental exercises require a great deal of uninterrupted effort and cannot be completed while in combat.”
Nero, not understanding what the problem is, replied, “Look, I was shown how to do a quick and dirty version by a war mage a while ago, so we can just start with that. The goal is to mentally train yourself to hold your center together despite how much casting you’re doing. As long as you keep to basic spells that aren’t too taxing, you should be able to recover most, if not all, of the center you expended to cast them. You should only run out of center when you perform feats of magic that you aren’t ready for. So, obviously, you just need to trick your identity into believing that you are worthy of more advanced magic.”
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Peter replied reflexively, “You can’t just trick yourself into believing you’re better than you are. And even if you did, that wouldn’t change the reality that you’re not.”
Nero snorted in amusement before replying, “Sure you can, and yes it will. This entire world runs on bullshit like that. You know, the power of positive thinking and all that. Look, your center is based on your identity, right? Your identity is defined by how the world sees you. The world interacts with your mind, body, and soul to determine how it relates to you. Well, if you’re mind believes that you are a powerful mage with plenty of center to spare, then that’s 1/3rd of the puzzle right there.”
Merrick and Peter once again shared an uncomfortable look with each other, neither one wanting to be the one to contradict their lord. Each of them was well aware that center management and essence control didn’t work at all how Lord Walker had explained it to them. The young lord was picking and choosing which facts he wanted to accept, and discarding the ones that he didn’t agree with. However, they also couldn’t explain how he was able to do the things he did, so they were somewhat in a bind.
With how much center he was expending constantly healing everyone, and casting magic above his level, Nero did indeed look to them like a mage with an unending center. It made absolutely no sense to either one of them.
Nero on the other hand found the entire concept self-evident. If all it took to refill your center was some meditation on who you were as a person, then center was based on how firm your resolve was. He’d spent his entire life back on Earth learning that truth is a relative concept that you could ignore at your leisure. Hell, self-hypnosis was basically a cultural touchstone where he’d grown up. Convincing himself that his center was able to replenish itself without effort was easy for him.
Whether or not it worked for anyone else was completely immaterial.
Luckily for the two mages, their conversation was interrupted by Victor who was dragging a stumbling Sam over for healing.
While Nero worked on the man, Peter and Merrick stepped aside for a private conversation.
“I’m not sure I understand what Lord Walker is saying. Do you really think he’s discovered a way to actively recover center while in combat?” Peter asked in a whisper.
Merrick replied in a whisper of his own, “I’m not sure. He’s obviously able to do it. But, I don’t think whatever he’s doing is actually what he thinks he is doing. It doesn’t make sense. There must be something else going on with him.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“Well, like he said, center is the reservoir of essence that you’ve collected by filtering the raw essence of the ether through your identity. While it does refill itself with time, actively refilling quickly requires your mind, body, and soul to be in harmony. What Lord Walker is suggesting is that he has somehow made his physical and ethereal presence a matter of his will… which as far as I know is impossible,” Merrick stated emphatically, but somewhat uncertainly.
Interrupting their conversation, Nero walked up while clapping and rubbing his hands together in excitement. “All right boys, now let’s work on keeping your minds together while we cast some magic!”
For the next hour or two, the entire team pushed themselves. The physical fighters continued to stress their centers by utilizing their abilities, while the mages and Nero worked on their magic. Bodies were broken, and center levels plummeted. By the time Nero called their training to a close, more than one person was suffering from aching joints and headaches from center over-use. Merrick and Peter were both even suffering from some minor nose bleeds.
Nero on the other hand, felt fine.
While everyone collapsed into their beds for some rest, Nero stayed up to do some more training and reading.
Since they hadn’t been called in to do anything, it was the perfect time to learn some new spells and work on his essence manipulation. He hadn’t spent much time playing with his magic lately, and with his newfound ability to concentrate on multiple things at once, he was finally able to streamline his ability to read while he practiced.
An hour or two later, Cathleen and Natalie approached the camp to see Nero being the only one outside of their tents. He was sitting comfortably on his stool with his eyes closed, his canteen in his hand, while all around him spells were being carved into the ether before being taken apart and their center recollected. To anyone who could see into the ether, he looked like he was surrounded by multiple blinking lights.
Opening his eyes as they approached, Nero smiled widely and greeted them. “Hello ladies, how’s the war going? Finally ready to kickstart the ultra-violence and send the kobalds back to the hell from which they came?”
Cathleen’s stoic expression faltered a little as she had trouble keeping the grin off her face.
“Not yet, my lord. I’ve just come to see how you and your team are doing and to update you on what’s happening with command and Lord Verena’s efforts to pierce the kobald’s illusions,” said Cathleen.
Natalie looked around at the empty camp and asked, “Where is the rest of our team?”
Nero replied, “Oh, they’re resting. We did a little training and they’re all tuckered out. Hey, by the way, any chance we can get someone to help repair their armor? I’m not all that good at using magic to fix stuff just yet, and they’re all looking a little ragged at this point.”
Cathleen, somewhat confused at the request, turned to Natalie and asked, “I believe you said that your fight with the kobald scouting parties was not all that difficult.”
Natalie, just as confused as Cathleen was, replied, “It wasn’t. There were no casualties.”
Not wanting them to get the wrong idea, Nero interrupted, “No, No, No. Their armor is all messed up from the training, not the kobalds. I had them pushing each other pretty hard, and their armor wasn’t as easy to put back together as their bodies were.”
Cathleen, realizing that Nero probably put them through what she’d put him through, couldn’t help but smile evilly. “You had them fighting each other to the death? Warblade training?”
Nero, returning her smile, shrugged. “Not exactly. They never went all in. However, I did get them to stop pulling their punches. It took a while, and I ended up having to stomp on them a bit, but they eventually got the message that training wasn’t something they should be half-assing.”
Natalie, looking worried, replied, “You didn’t kill anyone, did you? Do I need to call in some mind healers from the Center auxiliaries?”
Not understanding what she was talking about, replied, “Well, I only killed them once, and everyone seems fine. Why would they need mind healers?”
Cathleen chuckled, and said, “Most people can’t handle death as well as you do. The training I put you through is a little much for Southerners like them. I doubt any of them have experienced dying in combat before.”
Nero, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, suddenly realized that he might have gone a little too far. “Really? Then why did you kill ME so much? Why wasn’t I given access to therapy?”
Cathleen replied, “Because you didn’t need it.”
Natalie, looking somewhat worried, said, “Don’t worry, my lord. I’ll talk to them. I believe I can prevent anyone from lodging any formal complaints against you.”
Standing up from his stool, Nero asked worriedly, “What the hell are you talking about? Formal complaints about what?”
Cathleen, looking absolutely ecstatic, replied, “Here in the South, Warblade training is more or less illegal. It’s considered too hard on the soldiers’ minds. Even followers of a noble house still have rights. If they wanted to, they could file formal complaints with the Tower of Law and seek to end their life-oath with House Walker.”
Stunned, Nero replied, “Huh. Well, I have to say that I’m a little pissed no one bothered to tell me that Cathleen was being such a bitch to me, but I suppose that makes sense. I will of course have to give Nick a nut punch the next time I see him for not giving me a heads up that I was being abused by my trainer.”
Cathleen laughed, actually laughed at him.
Natalie, on the other hand, stood there looking all kinds of uncomfortable.
“Let’s set that aside for the moment and get back to what we came over here to talk with you about in the first place,” Cathleen said while walking over to take a seat in one of the empty folding chairs.
Meanwhile, Natalie immediately went off to go check on the Wackos, and Nero retook his stump, gesturing for Cathleen to have at it.
“I’ve been told that you are aware that Lord Verena has been working with the Tower of Magic and the survey teams to locate the hidden tunnels that the kobalds have created throughout the upper city?” Cathleen asked.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it. How’s it going?” he asked grumpily, still somewhat pissed off about what he’d been told.
“Very well actually. Mage Adept Newbanks has been in contact with command and they have assured us that the Tower of Magics scrying arrays should soon be able to pinpoint any similar illusionary spells that have been cast in our area. Teams are already being sent out to deal with them,” she said while gesturing to the rest of the large chamber to call Nero’s attention to the activity going on all around them.
“Even better, the technique Lord Verena said you’d come up with has been instrumental in countering the kobalds' larger illusionary wards which their society has been hiding behind. We expect in the next day or two to have the ability to scry their defenses, and hopefully discover what’s awaiting us on the lower floors. However, for the time being, our house’s focus will remain here in the upper areas. Our focus hasn’t changed, and we’ll still be working with the army to clear out the kobalds from the upper city,” she said.
Nero nodded in understanding. “OK. So, when are we actually going to be getting into some action? And is it going to be more of the weaker clone-type kobalds that we’re going to be facing, or are we going to be finally fighting some of the real ones?”
“They’re all real kobalds, my lord. The weaker grunts are merely used as cannon fodder for the upper castes of their society. We should, however, begin seeing more of the ‘real kobalds’, if that’s what you want to call them, now that we’re beginning to push into the mountain. Although, we won’t know exactly what we’re facing until the Tower of Magic finishes their updates to their scrying array,” she said.
Grunting in acknowledgment, Nero replied, “So, more waiting then.”
“Yes, more waiting. However, it does give you the opportunity to continue training your forces personally,” she said with a grin.
Rolling his eyes, Nero replied, “Oh, eat a dick, you old hag. You’re just pissed you are too busy to spend your days killing me over and over again. I hope you enjoy the fancy chair and finger sandwiches they’ve been giving you. You’ll be spending the war watching me have all the fun.”
Grimacing at the thought of missing out on the fighting, Cathleen replied, “When the time comes, you can be sure that I’ll be there in the thick of it. But for now, I will need to continue coordinating with the army.”
Standing up from her chair, she began walking away, without bothering to say goodbye. She did however call out over her shoulder, “Make sure to leave some kobalds for the rest of us, my lord!”
Shaking his head in amusement at the battle maniac, Nero’s mind returned to the fact that he might have unintentionally emotionally scarred the entire team.
‘Maybe I should look up some books on how people usually train here. Taking Cathleen as an example of the typical teacher archetype might not have been the best idea I’ve had,’ he thought to himself.