The following day Laurel returned to the city alone. It had taken some convincing but this wasn’t a conversation for young cultivators. The ambient mana was too smooth for a city of this size. Even though Jaranda was much smaller than Verilia, the mana turbulence would have been enough to make cultivating difficult if someone wasn’t helping things along. This city had a functioning Core, which meant there were cultivators around, strong ones. In their tour of the market the day before, she had asked around about open spaces and been informed of the Governor’s Park, an area on the eastern edge of the city, a slice of the island preserved as undeveloped space for the locals to use for leisure. She went in and found a secluded area with some stone benches surrounding a small pool, a handful of tall trees perfectly framing a view of the ocean.

  Ensuring there was no one nearby, she dropped her veil and flared her mana. Extremely rude of her in another sect’s territory, but it was the fastest way to get the local’s attention without resorting to more visible means. If whoever was cultivating the Core was doing so without the government’s knowledge, that would stir up trouble she wanted to avoid. Deciding it had been long enough, she veiled herself again and settled in to wait. It wouldn’t be long.

  That prediction proved correct, as ten minutes later, a woman walked over and sat on the other bench. She wore clothes similar to the rest of the locals, loose and light to combat the heat, in layered shades of green. Long, gray-tinged locs were tied in a tail, leaving sharp eyes examining Laurel in turn. No mana was coming off her, which pointed to extreme control. Taking a risk, Laurel decided to be the one to break the silence, and she spoke in Alrasian.

  “Laurel Stormblade, sectmaster of the Eternal Archive, I’ve come to pay respects while visiting your city.”

  The other woman’s eyes flared wide, at the language or in recognition of the name, Laurel couldn’t tell. “Welcome to Jaranda, Laurel Stormblade. My name is Jade Treeborn of the Southern Wardens, the protector of this city,” She replied in perfect Alrasian, all but announcing that she was from the same time as Laurel.

  “I’ll be direct, Jade. Are you a member of the group that attempted to cripple the world? If so, tell me now and we can skip to the fight.”

  A slow smile spread across the other woman’s face. “I’d heard of you by reputation, Stormblade, I’m glad to see it was all true. I woke years ago in a stasis chamber on the mainland to the north, with no recollection of how I got there. I returned to the island where my sect had lived to find this city built up, but no sect. It has been many years, and even their memory of us has faded into oblivion, but my duty to this land and this people has not. They know nothing of the dangers in a world with mana so I have been cultivating the Core and protecting the city.

  “If, as you say, some group has done this on purpose, I am not one of them.”

  Laurel relaxed. She had sensed nothing behind the other woman’s veil, but was inclined to believe her. The sorrow in her voice when talking about the loss of her family was not something easily faked.

  “My story is the same, in spirit if not in details. I awoke alone in the ruins of a sect I was supposed to be helping. Laskarians have… concerning views on magic, and I was attacked when I approached the mortals as a cultivator. Finding my sect gone and the area hostile, I traveled to Merista and have since re-established my sect in the capital there. It was only recently I learned of the conspiracy while hunting for resources.” She skimmed past the more painful memories in her tale, keeping to the broader details to stay in control.

  “I see.” They sat in silence for a moment. “Well what now, Laurel Stormblade? We can fight, as you said, though I don’t think it will go exactly as you may expect.”

  Laurel gave a seated half-bow in apology. “I have no wish to fight. Well, perhaps a spar if you are open to it. But I do have a need for allies. Laskar is looking for war, and there are groups of cultivators still operating from the same group that trapped us. We need as much strength as we can get.”

  “A sect alliance with the Eternal Archive, how prestigious. I couldn’t possibly pass that up. Resources to resist Laskar will be trickier. The local government is not fully aware of me. I’ve started training a few students, but they are still so young.”

  “I sympathize, I have a few of my own along with me. We can start with the sect alliance.”

  They stayed up long into the night. First, they discussed the terms of an alliance between their sects. This was standard, though Laurel had never been part of forming such an agreement before. She was sure the goodwill her sect had garnered in Merista could be leveraged to gain Jade an official relationship with the government in Somorin as well. After all, the woman had been keeping the majority of the public safe from random monster attacks or other mana manifestations. As the shadows grew longer and the sun set over the horizon they discussed how out of place they both felt.

  “It was like my heart broke anew each day. These people, for all they’ve advanced, are not so different from those who lived here in the past. But every steamship in port or newspaper tossed into the street is a reminder that my people died without me. I’m the only one who remembers them now. You’re lucky so much of your sect’s legacy survived. Our library was not so well-secured, our secrets were stolen or shattered when the world changed.” Jade described her struggle trying to remain unnoticed while cultivating the City Core, working as a wise-woman to the locals to afford her accommodations.

  “When your students are advanced enough, have them visit. I can offer them all one technique of an appropriate level from the library.”

  “You would do such a thing?”

  “For our allies, yes. For my personal goals, I suspect we will need as many competent cultivators as we can get in the coming years.”

  *******

  Martin strolled down the main thoroughfare of the Garion district. Skeletal trees defiantly budded amid the latest spring snow, while warmth and light spilled out of the restaurants he was passing. Spring it might be but northern Merista had not gotten the notice. It reminded him of home. He found the right restaurant and entered, brushing past the host with a smile and sailing into the dining room. Without pausing he made his way to the table in the middle and took a seat, just as the server was leaving.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “I’ll have whatever he’s having, thanks love.” The man looked confused but wrote down the order and left Martin sitting across from a slender man wearing an impeccably-cut suit in a ridiculous crimson paisley pattern. They stared at each other for a few moments.

  “Devon you twat, what are you doing here?”

  The waiter chose that moment to reappear, stumbling at Martin’s language. He caught himself and poured wine for both of them before scampering away again.

  “Fuck you, Martin. Maybe I’m here to have dinner with an old friend. You could be happy to see me, you know.”

  “Oh yeah? You just stopped in after a millennium and a half to say hello?”

  They were interrupted again as their salads were delivered by an increasingly nervous waitstaff. Martin didn’t need a master cultivator’s senses to hear the discussions around the room. This restaurant was trendy enough right now that several of the patrons had recognized him from his recent forays into the local art scene.

  “Well, if you put it so bluntly, I am in something of a bind. Much like yourself I found myself waking up recently in a prison. Some prick I’d never heard of before was waiting to tell me about ‘how things were now’. I dealt with him of course –”

  “You dealt with someone?”

  “Ouch, Martin, I’m not completely inept in a fight. And whoever they sent was an expert at best. Even I can punch down when it's called for. I had to get out of the new Laskarian Empire in a hurry. Unlike you, I didn’t have someone picking up my entire sect’s legacy and smuggling it out to set up somewhere else. Who did that by the way, Imelda?”

  “Laurel.”

  Devon whipped his head around, and finding nothing, closed his eyes to sweep the surroundings with his spiritual sense. “The madwoman is right behind me, isn’t she?”

  “She’s mellowed since that tournament. But no, she’s out of the city on sect business at the moment.”

  “Anyway, the point remains that my sect’s legacy stone is still at large. I can hardly move forward until I get it back, but with the way things are looking, I’m not sure I have the right kind of skillset to retrieve it. The whole world has heard about the mages defending this city, so I decided to stop by in the hopes it would be a friendly face.” He ended with a shrug that was meant to be casual, but it was clearly not so simple.

  Martin leaned back and surveyed the man. Devon was a bit annoying sometimes, but he wasn’t a bad guy. It was true that he wasn’t a combat-oriented cultivator, but people underestimated him at their own risk. He was also an excellent enchanter, something the entire country, maybe the world, was notably lacking.

  “Tell me this, Devon. How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth? Treachery is what got us here in the first place. How do I know if I go with you, I don’t end up delivered into our enemies’ hands? Are you even sure the legacy stone is still intact, that they haven’t already looted it, cracked it open and sucked out the secrets?”

  All traces of joking dropped off the man’s face. “For the first, I’ll tap into the City Core and swear an oath. With what I can tell, it's definitely developed enough for that. For the second, I’m sure. My mentor was the one who placed the wards around the Legacy Stone. They could operate in null ambient mana, and no one outside the sect would be able to retrieve it. I can still feel that the link is active, they don’t have it.”

  “I’m inclined to help, but it’s complicated. I can’t leave until Laurel gets back, at least. Do you even have a plan once you get it?”

  Devon waved his hand around the room. “The same as you. I’ll start a new version of the sect. Find some people to teach. Get materials to craft. Learn the new techniques and perfect them. Leave this backwater world for something new, eventually.”

  Their dinner arrived and the conversation halted to appreciate the food. It was some sort of bird, stewed in wine and herbs, served over rice, with roasted root vegetables tossed in a spice blend Martin hadn’t heard of before.

  “This is excellent. How did you even hear about this place, you just got to the city,” Martin asked.

  “Oh, some chap in the market I was hanging around in. I think his brother is our waiter.”

  “You have frustratingly good taste. In food at least, that suit is hideous.”

  “You have a leg to stand on there, not in that getup.”

  It wasn’t until dessert that they got back to discussing business. A decadent vanilla mousse that melted in his mouth was a nice distraction until it was time to get to it.

  “Let's talk terms. We help you retrieve your sect Legacy Stone and reestablish your sect. You do so in a city in Merista, or an allied country, that needs help with their City Core, which you will provide. Your sect swears a supportive alliance with ours. And we send people to you to learn enchanting, you can send people to us to learn how to fight.”

  “Agreed.” Devon took a sip of his wine. “Not like I have much of a choice unless I want to join up with the Laskarians.”

  They finished dinner and stood to leave. Martin clapped Devon on the shoulder with a friendly smile. “Let’s get this oath over with then. Also if you’re lying I'll rip your heart out.”

  Their poor server was coming over to clear the table and stared at them aghast. Martin flipped him a silver as a tip for the stressful evening and they made their way back through town to the sect house, catching up on the time since they’d last met.

  Devon let out a slow whistle as they approached the sect house. “That is some quality enchanting work on the dome. There’s no way you and Laurel did that.”

  “City Core design considered it part of the building. The city’s so big we have mana to spare and could use it for perfect directions. Laurel had the Core project the pattern and she etched it in and infused it.”

  “That woman has more luck than cultivation, I swear,” Devon muttered.

  They made their way inside and up to the rotunda. If Devon didn’t turn out to be a lying liar, Martin figured Annette could have one of the kids give the full tour and absolve him of the responsibility. Most of the sect was lounging around when they entered. The kids were scattered around the room, some reading, some cultivating, most relaxing and joking around after dinner. Another few months and the next batch would be ready to open their meridians and start some real cultivating. Seeing the eyes turned towards him, Martin figured it would be easiest to do this all at once.

  “Hi everyone. This is Devon.” He gestured vaguely at the man next to him. “He was an acquaintance from another sect, back in the day, and he wants to form an alliance. I’m going to make him swear an oath on the City Core and kill him if he’s lying.”

  Annette stood up from the central area where she and Adam were engaged in what looked like an intense game of byd. “Martin,” she said sweetly, “please don’t announce murder without discussing it first.”

  “Who is she? I like her.” Devon said, not intimidated by the threat, or at least not showing it.

  “Introductions after, come on.”

  The two masters walked over to the crystal pedestal acting as the manifested anchor for the City Core. Golden light still cycled through it and the map on top picked out the city and surroundings in minute detail.

  “Okay everyone, quick overview. A City Core that is developed far enough, can imprint oaths on people’s souls. If the oath is broken, cosmic mana tears that person apart. Or at least their cultivation. In theory a mortal might survive. There’s more to it but that’s the basic idea.”

  Not wasting any time Devon placed both hands on the pedestal and opened his mana. Martin followed suit. Any noise had cut off as the sect gathered around for the show. The golden light in the pedestal started cycling faster. A glow began to pulse like a heartbeat, faster and faster. When it reached a crescendo, Devon spoke.

  “I have not, am not, and never will be involved with the organization that defiled the world to restrict cosmic mana flows, nor those who are attempting to control the world’s cultivators now. I swear this on my cultivation, my sect, and my life.”

  “I hear and accept this oath.”

  The glow became blinding, suffusing through both Devon and Martin. When the light faded, the two men were still standing in the same position, eyes closed. Martin broke contact first. Stepping back from the pedestal he led the sect leaders and Devon back to the couches and began pouring tea. They had much to discuss and he could now hand the responsibility off to Annette in good faith.