A chill ran down Nathan’s spine, but he crushed his fear mercilessly.
Whatever Narime was sensing was faint enough that all she felt was a vague sense of ‘wrongness.’ Even if she could sense Kadria, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t find the Messenger.
But Nathan took this as a warning shot that there were beings in this world that could sense his connection to the demon. He needed to speak to Kadria about this the next time they met.
“Did you find anything, or is this just your mystical foxy senses?” Seraph asked, a mocking smile on her lips.
Fei frowned, turning toward Nathan. He ignored her and instead watched Narime’s reaction closely.
“The defenses on the door were too strong. Hence why I find you suspicious.” Narime pointed an accusatory finger at Nathan, spilling a few drops of schnaps on the table. Seraph clicked her tongue at the mess. “As you said, I can penetrate any defenses with my teleportation magic—”
“Then why didn’t you?” Seraph asked.
Narime ignored her, and continued, “But the defenses around your binding stone are specifically crafted to keep out mystic foxes.”
“No, they’re not,” Nathan said.
“Really?” Narime’s voice oozed disbelief.
“They’re crafted to keep out Messengers.”
The reaction was as if he had put a sledgehammer through the table. Seraph and Narime froze, their eyes widening and muscles tensing. Narime’s fox tails coiled closely behind her.
Fei didn’t react as strongly, instead tilting her head in confusion. “Why is it so important to defend the binding stone from a Messenger? If they get out of the portal, haven’t we already failed?”
Both Seraph and Narime turned their eyes toward the beastkin, then back to Nathan.
Seraph’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve told her about Messengers?”
“I planned to talk to you about them shortly,” Nathan said.
Seraph cursed. “This is why Sen asked me to investigate the portal at Fort Taubrum, isn’t it?”
Nathan nodded.
“You’re talking rather openly about a topic that is usually discussed much more secretively,” Narime said.
She was right about that. The knowledge that a Messenger was coming was not one usually shared widely, let alone with a country he was at war with.
But this was Narime.
“You’re here to negotiate, aren’t you?” Nathan asked.
“I’m here to convince you to start negotiations,” Narime hedged, her eyes narrowing.
“Then I imagine you want to know why negotiations haven’t started.”
“I already know that. It’s because you levied a heresy accusation at Torneus and—” Narime trailed off and her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Seraph muttered, draining her glass. She poured another and topped up Narime’s. “Allow me to give you a word of warning.”
“As if I need a warning from you,” Narime said.
“Oh, and why is that? You’ve always been willing to take my advice before when it comes to politics.” Seraph smiled.
“That was before you changed sides.” Narime glanced between Nathan and Seraph. “You have no idea the difficulty you’ve caused me.”
“I can imagine. That’s why I’m warning you,” Seraph said.
No response. The window rattled from the wind outside, but everybody ignored it.
Seraph continued, “Right now, you can maintain a blissful ignorance about Torneus and the Federation. You’re smart enough to be suspicious, but still loyal to the nation that took you and so many of our people in. That means you’re still useful to Torneus. But once you hear what Nathan has to say, you’ll be compromised.”
“Do you think me some impressionable teenager who will be swayed by a good story and honeyed words from the first attractive male I see?” Narime scoffed and gave Nathan an upturned look.
“I’m glad I classify as the first attractive male you’ve seen,” Nathan said.
Narime rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious, Narime,” Seraph pressed. “Once you find out the truth, you’ll step into a new world. And there’s no going back. You’ll question everything you hear from Torneus. Everything that happens in the Federation. You’ll no longer be useful to them.”
“I’m still a powerful and influential duogem Champion,” Narime insisted.
“And replaceable. Duogem Champions are still very replaceable,” Seraph said, her tone dropping. “At least, they are to a nation.” Her gaze shifted to Nathan.
“You’ve changed,” Narime said.
“Not really, but I want to change.” Seraph shrugged. “And I can tell you haven’t changed. So, I’ll remind you of your real position in the Federation. The regents that you like to think of as equals and talk back to at meetings? Most of them think of nothing more than ramming their cock down your throat every time you speak. I doubt Torneus is one of them, but he won’t need to go far to find a regent who would be happy to have you as one of his maids.”
“You’re a bitch,” Narime spat.
“Am I wrong?”
Narime slammed her glass down, spilling alcohol everywhere as it slid across the table. For a few moments, she seemed torn between storming off and staying put. Perhaps she wanted to hit Seraph, who stared back at Narime with a raised eyebrow.
Eventually, Narime calmed down, and she schooled her expression. She winced and apologized to Nathan.
“Whatever the case, I want to hear the truth,” the fox said. “If a Messenger is involved, then it is my duty as a mystic fox and as a Champion to resolve the situation. Ignorance may benefit my position, but it does not benefit the world.”
Seraph shrugged, then inclined her head at Nathan.
One thing stuck out in Nathan’s mind as he watched the women lounge on the sofas.
Why had Seraph never been brought up in his timeline?
Narime evidently had a strong relationship with her rival Champion, even if nobody would describe it as “friendly.” Sunstorm idolized Seraph. Hint after hint had been dropped that Seraph was far more aware of how binding stones worked than most Bastions were. Even Torneus relied upon her when she was his agent.
But at no stage had anybody brought her up, and he couldn’t recall any events that sounded like Seraph had been involved. It was as though she had been a ghost in his timeline.
“Well?” Narime asked, an eyebrow raised. She crossed her legs, the thigh slits in her dress opening up to reveal plenty more leg. “What does the cause of this war and the protections against Messengers have in common?”
Her pose was so “Narime” that Nathan’s vision wavered for a moment. He didn’t see the fox sitting in a tiny receiving room inside this fortress, out in the boonies of the Empire. Instead, he pictured her sitting opposite him in his bedroom back in the Far Reaches, a roaring fireplace crackling as it lit up the room. Her ageless face barely changed in the decade-plus that he was a Bastion, and although she was one tail short, he knew that the woman drinking schnaps was the same one that he had fallen in love with in his timeline.
Nathan took a large draft of his cognac before placing his drink on the table. The clink of the glass caused Fei’s tail to snap to one side and her eyes to prick up, and she watched him carefully. She had been almost completely silent so far, but her attention was sharp.
“As you guessed earlier, the heresy accusation is at the heart of it all,” Nathan explained. “The current unstable state of the portal in Gharrick Pass is a direct result of the Federation’s assault.”
“Is that the Federation’s fault, or yours for failing to protect the fortress?” Narime pressed, her eyes narrow as she took the offensive.
“I want to say you’re cute for going on the attack, but you’re so off the mark that it feels awkward,” Nathan shot back.
Narime’s eyebrows shot up, and she hid her expression by taking another slug of her schnaps. Too big of a slug, given she nearly coughed it back
up.
Rolling her eyes, Seraph topped up Narime’s glass.
“Um, is she going to be alright?” Fei whispered into Nathan’s ear, her eyes wide and staring at Narime’s very full glass of spirits.
“I can hold my liquor, thank you very much,” Narime said. “And my hearing is as sharp as yours.” She ran a finger along her silver fox ears, and Fei reflexively copied the motion with her own tufted cat ears.
“Foxes are magical beings, like beastkin, but with a lot more magic,” Nathan said. “It takes a lot more alcohol to affect them. Although you are drinking a lot of schnaps.” He sighed. “But back to my point: the Federation actively disrupted the leylines in the months leading up to their assault. Although I stopped the worst-case scenario, months of demonic energy was unleashed in a single reverse cascade.”
Narime stared blankly at Nathan. He paused in his explanation and glanced at Seraph, who shrugged back at him.
“You understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?” Nathan asked, hoping that he was wrong.
“I know what a cascade is,” Narime muttered. Her lips thinned. “But I don’t know what the leylines have to do with heresy, or what a reverse cascade is. Leyline disruption is a common tool in warfare, as it shuts down magical communications and makes detection of covert activities harder. What makes it heretical?”
“You don’t know?” Seraph spluttered. “You were in line to become part of the Guardian Council of Kurai. How can you not know this?”
“I don’t know what I don’t know,” Narime said. “Why do you know about this supposed heresy, and why should I know it?”
“Because I was taught it by others from Kurai.” Seraph shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Narime’s glare told a different story, but she let the topic shift back to the Federation’s actions.
This topic was complicated enough that it needed a proper explanation, Nathan realized.
He pushed his glass of cognac into the center of the table and pulled Fei’s whiskey next to it. She squawked and tried to retrieve her alcohol, but he batted her hand away and told her to stay still. She did, pouting all the while.
“Imagine that these glasses are binding stones,” Nathan said, pointing at the glasses of amber liquor. He dipped a finger into the whiskey and drew lines along the table using the liquid. One stretched between the two glasses, but most ran freely along the table, like streams running out from a river delta.
“Those are leylines,” Narime said.
“Yes. And every leyline connects to a binding stone,” Nathan said.
“I know this.”
“Then you should know that the binding stones are a confluence of leylines. This allows magic to flow from the binding stones through to leylines and into the rest of the world. Although we don’t know where that magic comes from.” He paused. “Demonic energy isn’t much different. We know it flows along the leylines because that’s what happens during a cascade.”
Narime nodded. “If a Bastion forcibly closes the portal or if the invasion is too large, then all of the excess energy flows into binding stones along the same leyline connection. That’s what makes cascades so dangerous, because countless portals can be hit by waves of demons at once.”
“What happens when the reverse occurs?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t follow. How can the demonic energy be in the leylines to begin with? Unless an invasion occurs, the demonic energy is contained in the portal,” Narime said.
“Or does it? Cascades prove that demonic energy can escape into the leylines. What if the same is true of leyline disruption? Don’t answer that, because we already know. Demonic portals form away from binding stones. Huge gaping portals appear in the wilderness, and armies of demons pour forth from them.” Nathan drew lines in the whiskey where the leylines were.
“That’s… Then what’s a reverse cascade?” Narime asked, eyes wide.
“When leyline disruption is stopped before a portal can form, all the demonic energy snaps back to its origin. This causes an enormous invasion similar to a cascade. That’s what I had to stop during summer, when the Federation attacked. And, as you know, defeating a demonic invasion only makes things worse. The portal is showing incredibly unusual activity, and that almost certainly means a Messenger will arrive shortly,” Nathan explained.
A silence followed Nathan’s words. Narime stared at his crude visual aids on the table, as if trying to picture how they might appear in reality. A difficult thing to do, given leylines didn’t have a physical existence. Magic wasn’t tangible until converted into a spell. Leylines did have a physical location, but you couldn’t touch or feel them with your body.
“So, the Federation attempted to trigger a demonic invasion in the Empire?” Narime said.
“Yes.”
“And when that failed, they launched an attack while you were dealing with a much more powerful invasion, one that was caused as a direct result of the Federation’s tampering?”
“Yes.”
Another silence. Then, “That does sound like heresy. But what of Seraph?” Narime glanced over at Seraph, who didn’t meet her eyes.
“For one thing, she’s assisting the Empire as a form of repentance for her actions. As a representative of the Watcher Omria, I feel that’s sufficient,” Nathan said.
“I imagine you would,” Narime said drily, although it lacked any heat.
“More to the point, a Champion isn’t accountable for heresy committed by their Bastion or nation. Champions are weapons and receive special treatment in many laws. If we allow Seraph to be scapegoated for the heresy of Theus or Torneus, it sets a poor precedent,” Nathan said.
“I’m not sure I appreciate being called a weapon. Is that how you like to be thought of, Seraph?” Narime said.
“I’m no longer Torneus’s puppet, unlike you. Words are meaningless,” Seraph said.
Narime let out a deep breath. She swirled her schnaps.
Seeing her weakness, Nathan gave one last push. “This is why negotiations haven’t happened so far. Torneus knows that waiting helps him. Is that the sort of person you want to support?”
Chapter 7
“I’m not here to support Torneus, I’m here to stop a war,” Narime said, looking Nathan in the eye.
The moment passed. Narime straightened her back and drained her glass, before flicking it along the table. It made a series of clicking noises when it came to a spinning stop at the far end, far from her reach. A clear sign that she wanted to get to the heart of tonight’s discussion.
Nathan remained uncertain of whether he had misstepped or had simply misjudged Narime’s uncertainty. There was a reason she had been a close adviser of his in his timeline.
Unlike most of his other Champions, Narime was both wiser and more experienced than he was. She had centuries of experience and a wealth of political expertise.
Nathan had bumbled his way through political meetings alongside Falmir’s princess, and only made it through due to her graces and the assistance of a far more experienced Bastion. Narime was an experienced diplomat.
Maybe he had overstated how badly the news about Torneus had affected her. She might be affecting a more personal demeanor in front of him to lower his guard.
Internally, he cursed as he realized that he had probably messed up from the start. His personal desire for Narime had blinded him.
Narime’s eyes narrowed as she watched him, but she said nothing. An eyebrow raised on Seraph’s face as she looked between the two of them. Only Fei appeared to miss the change in Nathan’s posture and attitude.
“Fair,” Nathan said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He took a deep breath and a slug of his cognac.
After a long second, he lowered his glass and continued, “Then we’re on the same page. None of us want a war.”
“If that were so, you wouldn’t have accused Torneus of heresy,” Narime said. “This would have been over long ago if you had—”
“You know bett
er than that,” Nathan interrupted. “The heresy accusation is political. Do you really think what I’ve told you is enough to result in the execution of somebody as politically powerful as High Lord Torneus?” He scoffed.
Narime frowned. “So, this is all a game to you?”
Was she being intentionally obtuse? Narime was sharper than this. “No, it’s about avoiding a war. The Empire is in a difficult position right now. The Spires and Arcadia could be easily convinced to join a campaign against us. But heresy is enough to make them think twice, particularly given how much they… dislike humans.”
“Dislike is a rather kind way to put it,” Seraph said, amused. “Humans are treated like beastkin in the Spires and Arcadia.”
“I know,” Nathan said flatly. He remembered his first visit to the Spires. Falmir had needed their assistance to stop Torneus at the time.
Narime shifted uncomfortably. Unlike them, she was a mystic fox. Her magical nature meant she was treated rather well in Arcadia, and even the dark elves respected her, despite their insular nature. Nathan knew that the Federation’s good relations with the Spires and Arcadia were due in part to her and the other mystic foxes in the Federation.
“So, you’ve accused Torneus of heresy to keep other nations out of this war. You say it’s with good cause, but there’s not enough evidence to try to convict him. But you want to negotiate for peace?” Narime summarized.
“Yes. The question is: will Torneus allow us to disturb his plans and stop a war that he began?” Nathan said.
“That doesn’t matter.” Narime shook her head, her fluffy ears flapping. “The other regents have no interest in a prolonged war. Torneus delayed the start of negotiations and the Empire didn’t reply. I’m not sure why—”
“An internal issue in the Empire,” Nathan said. He remained suspicious of the timing of the Nationalist faction causing issues with Falmir, although perhaps Torneus had simply picked his opportunity. “But if you can restart negotiations, I think I know someone who can help.”
“Then we are partners?” Narime asked, raising an eyebrow.
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