Times keeper 1 a litrpg.., p.15
Time's Keeper 1: A LitRPG Adventure, page 15
It’d only cost Cedric twelve or so hours, too. More than worth it.
Arcaeus nodded. “Ah, of course.” He stepped over to a crate in the corner of the room, from which he withdrew a steel tablet and a small length of dark metal.
“What’s that?” Cedric asked.
“I need to take notes if I’m going to truly understand what happened to you.”
Arcaeus held the steel tablet high and dragged the length of metal down it, leaving a trail of glowing white light in the tablet. With a swipe of his hand, the line vanished. The gnome held the tablet in one arm and began to scribble something in his own language.
“Hearing… voices…” he murmured to himself as he wrote. “Any other… strangenesses?”
Cedric paused, rubbing his chin and reflecting. “There is one thing that I’ve been wondering about: my lifespan.”
Arcaeus looked up from his tablet. “What about it?”
“Well, I’ve gotten used to the idea of spending it to use my magic,” Cedric said. “But I’m not sure I understand why certain things cost what they do. At first, I’d thought I’d spend, say, four hours to move an object forward or backward in time by the same amount. But that’s almost never the case. I spend four hours and send an object back in time by twelve hours. I spent whole days just to freeze an object briefly.”
As Cedric spoke, Arcaeus was ardently scribbling notes down, nodding. “I see… That’s strange.” He pursed his lips and looked up at Cedric. “Magic may be alive. Magic may be able to do incredible things. But magic doesn’t come without a cost. A cost that should be roughly similar to the result.”
He narrowed his eyes at Cedric. “You should be spending four hours to move something four hours backward or forward. Magic is just energy, and energy should be conserved. The only way to explain getting more than you put in… is if something is making up the difference.”
“What could do that? An arcaeosphere nearby?”
Arcaeus shook his head. “An arcaeosphere only allows you to more easily use your abilities, it doesn’t let you get out of paying the cost of them. It’s actually quite dangerous to use an arcaeosphere with apprentice Maguses because they’ll spend too much. An apprentice channeling a Scroll of Fire might over-channel and freeze himself, sapping all his own heat to fuel a fireball he couldn’t control.”
He paused, looking at Cedric. He sighed. “Your costs being imbalanced is strange, but, then again, nothing about you seems to follow what I thought I knew about magic. I’ll do some research and see what I can dig up.”
Cedric nodded. “In the meantime, I have a new spell I need to get my head around: Temporal Link.”
Arcaeus nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s what happened when you encountered a new Scroll, eh?”
He scurried over to his crate and tut-tutted back with urgency, carrying his magical lens. He peered at Cedric through the small piece of glass.
“I see… You’ve… integrated the Decidium’s Scroll too, just like you did the Scroll of Time. But it seems like the Scroll of Time consumed the Decidium’s Scroll of Binding too, using it to forge another avenue of its own power… Fascinating.”
“So every time I find another Scroll,” Cedric said, “the Scroll of Time will convert them into time spells?”
Arcaeus nodded. “Essentially, yes. Your new spell should reflect the Scroll that you absorbed. Decidiums all use Scrolls of Binding to relay messages, so a spell called Temporal Link makes sense.”
He nodded, reaching up to the arcaeosphere and turning it off. “But the only way to actually see what it does is to try it.”
Cedric nodded. He turned his gaze toward one of the discarded planks laying on the floor. He reached for his magic, but instead of calling on Time Bend, he called on Temporal Link.
White light surrounded the plank.
Words flashed before his eyes:
[Insufficient targets]
Cedric narrowed his eyes. Insufficient targets? It made sense, he supposed—after all, the spell’s name, Temporal Link, suggested that it applied to more than one object.
The plank still glowing, he turned to one of the old storage crates piled in a corner. He reached for his magic, aiming Temporal Link at it.
Sure enough the crate shone with white light simultaneously. Both the plank and the crate glowed solidly. Light streamed from one object to the other, tethering them together.
But nothing else seemed to happen.
Arcaeus, too, hadn’t seen a difference. His eyes darted between the objects. “Nothing’s happening…”
Cedric shrugged. “Maybe I need to use Time Bend on it?”
Arcaeus gestured to the objects.
Cedric reached for his magic again, calling on Time Bend. As he did, he noticed that the tether between the plank and crate didn’t fade. Temporal Link was still active, even as he called on Time Bend, suggesting he was on the right track.
With a mental shove, he sent the plank backward in time. Its dust-caked crevices filled with new wood fibers, and its weathered, pale surface brightened. The plank looked refreshed, restored to a state long passed.
But the opposite was true of the crates. They collapsed in a pile, the wood gnawed by rot and the nails rusted to dust.
[Remaining lifespan: 32 years, 11 months, 4 days, 6 hours, 57 minutes, and 43 seconds. ]
Out of curiosity, Cedric willed his magic in the other direction, driving the plank forward in time. In mere moments, the plank went from bright and fresh to stale and decrepit.
Consequently, on the other side of the room, the crate rearranged itself, reforming into its original form. Its nails slammed themselves into place alongside its planks, which brightened.
Cedric cut off his magic entirely, removing his Time Bend and his Temporal Link in sequence, white light fading from the room.
“Huh,” Cedric said. “Using Temporal Link seems… complicated.”
“But useful nonetheless,” Arcaeus said.
Cedric nodded. Applications for his new spell bubbled up in his mind: speeding up one of his allies while slowing an opponent, slowing the fall of one object while speeding another’s up.
But as useful as it seemed, he’d have to choose his targets carefully. If he suddenly needed to slow an ally down for some reason, in the heat of battle, he’d inadvertently speed an enemy up, which could cause a host of problems.
Temporal Link was tricky, but mastering it could mean doing things he couldn’t even yet imagine.
“Certainly.” Cedric nodded. “I’ll have to practice with it if I—”
“Cedric!” the voice barked in his mind, smothering all else. “Find me in the ruin.” His ears rang and his mind was dizzy.
Cedric scrunched his face and shook his head, one hand on the side of his head. The pain was beginning to fade slowly.
“The voice again?” Arcaeus asked.
Cedric managed a nod. “Saying the same thing: it wants me to find it in your ruined laboratory.” He gritted his teeth and steeled himself.
“Well, then we better oblige.” Arcaeus gestured at Cedric’s head. “If it speaking to you is this disruptive, we can’t risk it interjecting at the wrong time. In the midst of a battle…”
Cedric nodded, seeing Arcaeus’s point. “It’s becoming more intense. And more frequent. Before long, we won’t have a choice but to investigate it.”
Arcaeus turned and marched up the stairs. “Seems like we don’t have much of one as it stands.” He shoved the crate blocking the door aside and yanked the door open.
Daylight and a gust of wind poured into the room, filling it with freshness. Cedric hopped up the stairs behind Arcaeus, following after the gnome as he strode into daylight. After a quick look both ways, they darted over to the fence and ducked through the hole, rejoining the streets of Aevelia.
By the look of the sun hovering in midday position, Arcaeus’s hyperchamber had worked. They’d been in there for a couple hours at least, and yet outside the cage of steel a fraction of time had passed.
Cedric and Arcaeus marched through the streets, past bustling citizens and barking merchants. The walk wasn’t a short one, but Cedric’s mind was occupied with wonder at what awaited him in Arcaeus’s ruins.
As the gnome had said, it could be the Emperor setting a trap, or it could be magic itself speaking to him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which he preferred it to be.
The thought of the Emperor himself luring him into a trap was concerning, but the thought that some amorphous, arcane being was luring him into Gods-knew-what…
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. In truth, he had no idea what to expect.
After a long walk, they approached the wall. Men bustled from the wall to the pile of freshly chopped wood.
Guards heaved great lengths of wood up onto their shoulders and marched them to the wall, where Aevelia’s carpenters hammered them into both sides of the wall, reinforcing it. A pair of older craftsmen worked on the gate, layering wood in tightly packed sheets.
Alwyn’s eyes brightened at the sight of Cedric, approaching him.
“You made quick work,” Cedric said.
Alwyn nodded. “This is just the timber reserves we have on hand. We’ll need to send the woodcutters out in a few hours.”
“Send them out now,” Cedric said. “I’ll go with them myself.”
“Yourself?” Alwyn said.
“It’ll keep them at ease,” Cedric explained. “And if they’d rather not be out there for too long, I can help in that regard.”
Alwyn nodded and began to march off. “I’ll tell them to sharpen their axes and meet you by the gate.”
Cedric nodded toward the mess hall, stepping toward it. Arcaeus trailed behind him, humming to himself faintly.
A few men crowded the tables, sipping their drinks and shoveling spoonfuls of Pickwum’s stew into their mouths. As each spoon warmed their throats, relaxation melted their weathered, anxious visages. Idle chatter hummed through the mess hall, stopping for a moment when the men spotted Cedric walking in.
As Cedric passed, table after table offering him gruff nods.
Walt and Myra greeted him with full mouths, their faces buried in bowls of Pickwum’s stew. Their murmurs to Cedric were interspersed with sounds of enjoyment as they swallowed their food. Rich brown sauce splattered over their faces.
Cedric slipped onto the bench, behind a steaming bowl his friends had filled for him. Arcaeus hopped onto the bench opposite Cedric, a bowl of stew left for him.
Cedric opened his mouth to speak, but the rich aroma of Pickwum’s stew filled in his nostrils. Beef mingled with thyme, rosemary, and onion. Chunks of potato and carrot bobbed in a velvety sauce. His stomach panged, growling audibly.
Myra chuckled, her mouth still half full. “Hungry, eh?”
“Not sure we have… time to…” Cedric took another whiff of stew, his stomach growling loudly.
Cedric grabbed his spoon and plunged it into the stew, stirring even more aromas. Without another thought, he grabbed his bowl and tugged it closer, teasing his food with the spoon. Sadly, he didn’t have time to sit and enjoy it.
Unless…
Cedric clutched his bowl and called on his spell, Time Bend, focusing on himself. He accelerated himself rapidly, his hand firmly gripping his bowl and spoon so they’d be enveloped in his magic too.
[Remaining lifespan: 32 years, 11 months, 3 days, 4 hours, 27 minutes, and 31 seconds. ]
Around him, the world froze. Walt’s mouth hung open, a steaming spoonful of stew approaching it in slow-motion. Myra was frozen as she dug her spoon into her bowl. Arcaeus’s lips were an O as he blew at his too-hot stew.
And Cedric went to town. He shoveled his stew into his mouth with little care and even less grace, barely able to control himself. His hunger had seized control of him.
He swallowed spoon after spoon of warm stew, the rich, layered flavor dancing on his tongue. Before long, he found himself scraping up the last dregs of his bowl, savoring the last spoonful.
With an audible ah, he wiped his mouth and set his bowl down, cutting off his magic.
From Walt, Myra, and Arcaeus’s perspective, Cedric had, momentarily, become a blur, his form moving at an imperceptible pace. Between Cedric picking up his bowl and setting it back down, only a few blinks had passed for them.
Walt and Myra stared at Cedric, mildly stunned.
Myra huffed, chuckling softly. Walt shook his head and smiled. They continued to dig into their stew.
It had, perhaps, been a waste of some minutes of his lifespan, Cedric supposed, but he’d meant what he said. He really didn’t have time to waste on a meal.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood.
“Leaving already?” Myra asked, sounding disappointed. “You just sat down.”
Cedric nodded. “There’s work to do. I need to escort the woodcutters out to gather timber, and then…” He glanced at Arcaeus. “There’s something we need to do: we need to go back to Arcaeus’s ruin.”
Walt slurped up his stew. “Why? You forget something, Arcaeus?”
Arcaeus looked up from his bowl, his hands clamped around the base, tilting it into his open mouth. The gnome wasn’t chewing. He simply poured it down his throat, vegetables and chunks of meat and all.
“No,” Cedric said. “I’ve… been hearing things. A voice, calling to me. It’s telling me to find it in Arcaeus’s ruin.”
“Sounds… like a trap,” Myra said.
“I said the same thing.” Arcaeus wiped his mouth. “But that would be the simple answer. It could be the Emperor trying to lure him into a trap, or… it could magic itself speaking to him.”
“Magic itself?” Walt raised an eyebrow. “The Gods, you mean?”
Arcaeus shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
He paused.
“We don’t know anything for certain,” he admitted. “Well, aside from one thing: it’s a risk.”
“It’s one I have to take,” Cedric said. “The voice is getting louder and more insistent. It’ll drive me mad if I don’t do something about it.”
“We’ll go with you,” Myra said, standing.
Walt snuck one more spoon of stew and stood, his cheeks puffed with food. “Yeah,” he said with a full mouth.
Cedric nodded, appreciative of their continued support. “Finish your meals and gear up. Meet me outside, just beyond the gates.”
He turned to leave, but Arcaeus cleared his throat, pulling him back. “Uh, perhaps we can make this trip a little more… lucrative?”
Cedric turned back to the gnome. “What do you have in mind?”
“I saw you had something marked near my ruin, on the map in your workshop,” Arcaeus said.
Cedric nodded. “I found a few potential sites for other ruins, yeah. Some were too far from our scouting routes to sneak the trip in, or were too crowded by rubble to get into.”
“I built my laboratory where I did because it’s close to the nexus of research,” Arcaeus explained, “where the most dangerous, most restricted forms of knowledge were held. I never ascended to the rank of Grand Magus, so I was never granted access to it, but now…”
“But now…” Cedric smiled. “There’s no one to keep you from it.”
Arcaeus nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “And with everything strange happening with you, we’re operating at the edge of my knowledge. We’ll learn more there.”
Myra snorted. “What is it? A library?”
“Oh, no, far from it,” Arcaeus said. “It wasn’t just the nexus of our research. It was where all our guardians were produced, our Scrolls discovered, our tools forged. Rivers of molten steel flowed through spiraling veins made of crystal, guided throughout by Maguses. A chorus of tools striking steel, craftsmen barking to one another, Maguses enchanting in a steady hum…”
He took a breath, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalled the place. “It was quite a thing to behold.”
“As long as there’s a Scroll to be found,” Cedric said. “It’s worth checking out. And if it’ll help us understand what happened… what’s happening with me, that’s a bonus.” Cedric nodded to Arcaeus. “It’s decided: after your ruin, we’ll head there.”
He glanced at Walt and Myra. “After you’re rested and fed, gather some supplies.”
They nodded.
Cedric looked at Arcaeus. “And I’ll need you to do something, too, Arcaeus.”
The gnome bowed his head slightly. “Name it.”
“You know how to work with ancient steel,” Cedric said. “Can you give our smiths some quick instruction before we leave?”
Arcaeus tapped his lips with a finger. “I can work with ancient steel, aye, but as the clumsy welds in the hyperchamber can attest…”
“And the numerous little yelps he let out,” Walt commented.
Arcaeus huffed, smiling. “Indeed. I can work ancient steel. It’s a fickle material, though. I mostly worked with parts fabricated by other Maguses. Of course, I picked up a thing or two, but my knowledge is very limited.”
“But it’s a thing or two more than our smiths know,” Cedric said. “Some basic instruction will suffice. The Empire is coming, and I’d rather have more than timber reinforcing our walls if we can. Even if the welds are poor and the reinforcements weak, I’d rather try than not. We need to use everything at our disposal, even if we can’t use it completely effectively yet. I’d use every toothpick and butterknife in Aevelia too, if I could.”
Arcaeus nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” Cedric said. “The smiths are near my home.” He glanced at Walt and Myra. “Meet me outside the walls in a couple hours. There’s one last thing I need to do.”
His friends nodded.
Cedric turned and marched out of the mess hall.
Outside, a party of woodcutters stood, axes resting on their shoulders as they exchanged anxious looks and concerned murmurs. Their steady murmur ceased when they noticed Cedric approaching.
“You’re him, eh?” their leader asked. “Cedric Blackfell?”
The name sent a murmur through the crowd of woodcutters. The gruff leader, however, didn’t seem phased by it. He stared at Cedric skeptically, his gaze measuring him, appraising him as though he were a well-aged oak tree.
