Chapter Sixty-Three: The Solvelis Conundrum

  Selriph stared at the contents of the merchant's cart, his eyes darting through the curious assortment of items. The marred pelts mixed with the loose pieces of armour and wrapped sacks of weapons—spoils from his vigilante activities on the road thus far.

  His eyes gazed at his patchwork map, now rolled out on the wooden floor of the merchant's cart. His mind focused on the depiction of Solvelis on this map, perusing his options and the information he had just received from the girl, he sat quietly by the fire.

  The dire wolf’s unreadable eyes were locked firmly on her at Selriph’s passing instruction—to keep an eye on her in case of any arcane swelling or distress that needed attention.

  As Selriph gazed on the girl who had wrapped herself in the cloak like a cocoon, he attempted to process the confusing contradiction in what he had just heard from the girl, Leian’s own mouth.

  For one, she would not be put to death by burning at the stake. At least, that made no sense through the imperial lens—her gifts were far too valuable. The ability to glimpse the past and future, no matter how nascent, would be of extreme value to the Empire.

  Selriph almost felt a tinge of jealousy—if his own abilities were coveted in a similar light, perhaps his father would have indulged in allowing him to undergo the rites to become a theurgist.

  That was something that seemed unpalatable to the boy now, having experienced what he had at the hands of Thorne and his fellows. He, however, acknowledged that in an alternative life—one not born into the martial-worshipping Daryth family—he might have been granted such an opportunity.

  That was, perhaps something which he might have tolerated.

  However, it was most likely the empty, regretful pondering of a runway with no family. One who never had a home and who was abused within the cold, unyielding walls of the Templar compound.

  Selriph’s head turned back to the parchment before him as he examined the message taken from the Theurgist. The scattered pieces of information gradually began to form a somewhat coherent picture.

  The sight… now that I think about it… It makes sense….

  His deduction ran on two assumptions: one being that the Leian’s mother—Lady Eilsweth’s—‘uncooperative’ stance meant she was not amicable to her daughter being turned over to the whims of the imperial apparatus.

  The other was the implications surrounding the abduction by the mercenaries and the holy mage. The magister likely sanctioned an underhanded attempt to bypass Lady Eilsweth’s disagreement, forcing her daughter into servitude under the guise of being kidnapped.

  Of course, these conclusions could not be confirmed outright. Selriph did not have enough rapport with Leian to pry the main details. However, he was reasonably confident, or at least satisfied with his preliminary assessment of the situation.

  And it was this assessment that was important—because it would determine the constraints he would have to abide by for his next course of action: his entrance to Solvelis.

  The main restriction was spelt out rather clearly: Leian could not be expected simply to waltz back into Solvelis; there was a chance that the prying eyes in the guard and the church would pick up on her return.

  It would not take long for that information to reach all the wrong ears. Then, she would be back where he found her—in their disgusting clutches once more.

  Damn it… If I had known she would bear this much trouble, I wouldn’t have…

  Selriph’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening at the thought. He had already rescued the girl. Her fate was intertwined with his, just as Nightwind’s and Emmett’s were to him.

  Now he just had to navigate the responsibility of his new ward without leading to another disastrous outcome that aligned with the precedent set thus far.

  The frantic whispers of scraping charcoal and the crinkle of paper came as Selriph scribbled over the first lines of his notes. The first option written there had been crossed out: guiding the girl just outside the city and turning her over to the guard and back to whence she came: the Eilsweth estate.

  The runaway youth began to scribe notes for the task ahead of him. Seemingly simple at first glance, however, this was marred with far more complexity than he’d ever care to admit:

  As Selriph stared at the complex web of problems, his mind drifted to the most natural solution, one that he had conjured before: infiltrating the city via the sewers.

  But in contrast to his disastrous trip to Caer Eldralis, that strategy wouldn’t work. The situation was vastly different. The primary distinction in the circumstances stemmed from the absence of a map for the sewer tunnels, which he obtained from Tamros, the Shera Woods merchant.

  Further to that, the runaway youth had only set foot in Solvelis once before. That visit was largely curated by his father, brought to the city centre directly via Sir Harwyn’s personal airship. A journey that took only forty-eight hours, rather than the nearly two-month trek Selriph had just endured.

  It was during that visit that Selriph Daryth became briefly acquainted with his family’s distant political and familial ties with the other noble houses in the city and the wider province of Agurdia—the only reason why he even recognised the salutation of Eilsweth.

  Thus, Solvelis was all but a foreign land to him. For all he knew, even if he took a rough northerly vector through the sewer—from a southerly infiltration from the outskirts—he’d have an equal chance of emerging in a pothole in some unassuming street as the chance to pop up in the middle of a sanctorum. An unideal risk.

  Of course, that ignored the other major difference that rendered such a course of action not just impractical, but fantastical: Emmett and Nightwind did not possess the implements to scale up and down a ladder.

  Selriph sighed.

  Why do they bestow all this trouble on me…

  His mind ran through the only other alternative it could muster.

  Scaling the walled city? The same restrictions brought about Emmett and Nightwind’s natural endowment. That wasn’t to mention Selriph’s own inability to do so. Although the youth briefly toyed with the possibility of somehow using his pyromancy to propel himself up to the wall, which he had dubbed pyromantic propulsion in his own notes.

  If such a feat could be accomplished under the cover of night, he could levitate his three companions over the wall.

  Selriph’s mind flashed with the image of a levitating horse, dire wolf, and young girl being vaulted by otherworldly energy over a section of the wall, curious nightly onlookers staring in bewildered disbelief at the sight before them.

  The youth smacked his palm against his forehead.

  No… that’s pure idiocy.

  His firm internal statement served as an abrupt, but sure stop to his digression. He centred his attention on their primary challenge: they needed to get past the guards without attracting attention.

  Before his recent acquisition—the budding tempest that was the girl with the sight—Selriph had already conceived a reasonable course of action, one that sufficiently addressed his primary concerns about an entry into Solvelis.

  Conceiving the solution required only one night of work, reminiscent of the mathematical puzzles he enjoyed solving in the study at the Daryth estate and also at Gerey’s sanctuary within the Caer Eldralis Library.

  His appearance? He could disguise it and Emmett’s as long as the wolf stayed within a dagger’s length of him. He had refined his arcane abilities to the point where he’d be able to do such a feat.

  Moreover, in the myriad of settlements that punctuated his journey to this point, Emmett had proven himself oddly cooperative. Following Selriph’s orders, he remained by his human’s side, with the mystical power of disguise enshrouding the wolf.

  As for the magical signature emitted from the veil of deception—the very thing that gave him pause when he considered his passage through the mountain pass—Selriph’s dual casting provided a solution.

  It was a remarkably elegant and simple solution: he simply needed to form a ‘bubble’ around the spell he was casting. This was, in effect, an advanced, practical iteration of the basic version of the suppress aura spell—one brought about by his circumstances. This feat, which would probably be classified as a second-tier display, would not only cloak his innate magical signature but that of his active spellcasting.

  The result? A blanket of suppression over his massive aura and the minuscule spell output. If any of the guards somehow possessed the means of magical detection—which wasn’t completely impossible—that issue was now resolved.

  The horse’s black appearance might have drawn some curious eyes, but Selriph could justify it by saying that it was a matter of thrift. After all, a black steed was cheap precisely because of the omen it bore—if one were to ignore the coin the boy actually invested to procure it.

  However, the addition of Leian into this already solved equation added a disproportionate layer of complexity.

  For one, Selriph’s spellcasting now somehow had to modify the appearance of three individuals. He would already push the boundaries of what was achievable by confining the physical changes to just his visage and Emmett’s fur coat. He wasn’t sure if he could stretch the spell’s capabilities any further, not without dual-casting.

  But the additional issue was Leian’s own magical aura. From Selriph’s own estimates, her signature burnt even more conspicuously than his ever did, which already drew the attention of that cursed inquisitor, Varos, in their first encounter.

  And that ignored the fact that, unlike the girl, Selriph’s skin and eyes didn’t glow and hum with magical energy. That was something that would be visible regardless of whatever guise Selriph placed on the girl.

  The youth breathed in through his nostrils, the earthy scent of pine and oakmoss as he centred himself for rational consideration. His intuition screamed at him: there had to be a way to resolve the intellectual tangle he had been presented with.

  Suppressing her aura should be fine … I just have to ‘thicken’ the cloak. The issue is her appearance...

  That was indeed the crux of the issue: Selriph simply didn’t know if he could iterate on his already taxed multitasking to extend the arcane disguise to Leian’s face, his own, and Emmett’s fur coat. Even if he could, the proximity between the three of them would be hard to justify to the guard.

  He had originally conceived the excuse that Emmett, or rather, ‘Temtet’, simply preferred to cling to its owner; that excuse would be shoddy if the young girl and the disguised wolf both clung to him.

  As Selriph turned to look at the girl, his mind fully grasped the problem that he now needed to address: somehow, her magical signature needed to be suppressed if there were to be any hope of entering Solvelis without drawing attention.

  And ideally? The girl herself would be responsible for that act—managing her aura and disguising herself—after all, it was unreasonable to expect Selriph to shoulder all the arcane labour.

  Would that even be possible? … It can’t hurt to try…

  Selriph’s ribcage fell as he exhaled and turned back toward the campsite. He was taken aback by a strange scene: the girl was scratching and petting Emmett, which both surprised and slightly unsettled him.

  As the young girl gazed upward, her eyes curious, the shadow of the weathered youth fell upon her, and the wolf’s eyes mirrored her own.

  “If you don’t mind, I am going to speak plainly—do you want to return to your mother?” Selriph’s posture was straight as his voice came out with an almost butler-like formality for permission.

  Leian’s eyes met his, a tinge of surprise on her face at the implicit offer of safe travel. “Yes… But as I said, you have done so much, I can head back myself. The guard knows of my abduction—my mother would have informed them. They will— “

  Selriph plainly delivered his interjection as if stating a fact. “They will inform your would-be abductors of your safe return. It will only be a matter of time before they make another play for you. They will do anything to attain the eyes you have been blessed with—your gift from the god of wisdom.”

  “I… they wouldn’t…the guards protect, why would they…!” Her words faltered, and understanding dawned on her.

  “We will need to enter the city without the guard or the church being aware of your return—but there are complications” he said, pointing to the soft gold light now glowing from the girl, coating her body like a second skin.

  “I see… You want me to hide in your cart, yes…?” Her eyes immediately found Emmett, and they shared a glance that Selriph could not immediately understand.

  “That would not work—not with your aura,” Selriph gave an emphatic shake of his head.

  “Aura…? You mean that the guard could sense my presence…?” Her gaze traced along her glowing skin.

  “So that’s how they found me…” her voice trailed off.

  Selriph did not need to hear the rest of her unfinished words to infer their content. Instead, he bent down to the girl.

  “You are bright for your age—you understand quickly. Therefore, I earnestly ask for this private detail—it will be essential to our success.” Selriph said, his hand open, revealing a faintly glowing, mystical sphere.

  His words came measured, posed almost as an academic inquiry. “How acquainted are you with the divine arts?”

  Nystul's magic aura.