The wind runner book 10.., p.47
The Wind Runner: Book 10 (The Wandering Inn), page 47
Not just [Strategists], but [Lieutenants] who got hands-on experience, [Commanders] who would see action in the jungles, even [Generals]. But it was known for [Strategists]. And those who were able to join Niers’ coveted classes, much less the rare group of elite students, were sure to become forces that would influence the world in the decades to come.
That was what Niers spent most of his time on in days of peace. In war too; there was nothing more instructive than letting a [Strategist] command a battalion of [Soldiers] if they were ready for the job. And if they weren’t? Well, that was why the Titan’s nickname was also the Professor among his students. He liked to think he could bring out their best quality, and his lessons were often…inventive as a result.
“How are the students doing, by the way, Peclir?”
The [Chamberlain] sighed at the innocent tone in Niers’ voice.
“Your core students?”
“Those? No, I gave them the weekend off. They’re preparing, no doubt. Getting up to no good. Give me a report on all their movements later. I want to see how they’re planning for this—if they even know what’s coming at all. Wil has some idea, but I think the others haven’t read the signs. I know Venaz hasn’t. He thinks this will be a little event.”
“I shall light a candle for his survival later. And the report. But your new students are currently in their beds. Most of them. The children of nobility sent from Terandria were particularly distressed. After being made to survive for three nights in the jungle with no supplies. I believe their parents have sent several angry [Messages], sir.”
“I’ll read them in my bath with a glass of wine.”
Niers chuckled to himself, in a good mood. He glanced at Peclir.
“Anything else? Wait, I asked about meetings.”
“Ah. Right. I was waiting upon a list…here we are.”
A door above Peclir’s head opened. A little Fraerling popped out using the Fraerling walkways built into the citadel.
“Sorry, Master Im! Apologies, Lord Astoragon. There was a rat in the tunnels.”
“Another one? I thought I got rid of all the nests!”
Niers sat up, alarmed. Rats were a danger to Fraerlings. But the [Messenger] only grimaced.
“You did, sir. This one was quite dead. It wasn’t cleared, though. I had a [Servant] remove it.”
“Ah. Oops.”
Niers sat back and shrugged as Peclir gave him a long stare. The [Chamberlain] accepted the small bit of paper the Fraerling carried and adjusted his spectacles to read the tiny handwriting.
“Hm. Ah, yes, there are a number of people wishing to see you, Lord Astoragon. As always.”
“What’s new? Anyone of note?”
Niers sighed. People always wanted something of you if you had something to give. And the Titan of Baleros? He had money to spend, which meant there were [Merchants] offering artifacts, [Mages] trying to get him to fund their research, adventuring teams hoping for some fame or a tipoff from him, [Cooks] trying to get him to eat their cooking—one time a [Chef] had even baked a life-sized replica of Niers. Now hadn’t that been fun to use as a prank on his students?
But generally all they wanted didn’t really help Niers, so he’d made it known that you could come and petition the Titan for an audience—but you weren’t likely to get it. And still, they came. There was actually a quite profitable business in the city for people waiting to see him for months or even years. Mostly in vain.
“Hm. Well, here is the list, sir. I don’t see anyone too notable, but then again, I would underscore the Naga near the bottom.”
Peclir handed the sheet to Niers. The Titan grunted and ran his eye down the list. The same old suspects. But he paused at the Naga.
“Xalandrass. War merchant. I don’t know the name. Small fry?”
“Fairly. His fortunes turned south when he was caught up in that incident by the, ah…Razorshard Armor company?”
“Ah, I remember. Those two idiots broke the rules of engagement. Well, it seems Xalandrass survived. Why’s he here and why do I care?”
“I couldn’t answer the first part, but I understand that he tried to bribe his way to the front of the queue.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred gold pieces. As much as he could afford, sir.”
Niers’ eyebrows rose. Bribes weren’t uncommon, and they were wasted effort since Niers just gave it back to the briber, but two hundred gold pieces wasn’t small. And if Xalandrass was in trouble, it made it more interesting still.
“So he thinks he has something I want, does he? Very well. Send him in. I’ll meet him in the sitting room with the velvet curtains. You know.”
“I will send him there at once, sir. Refreshments?”
“He may have whatever he wishes.”
Niers hopped off the desk and strode onto Peclir’s waiting hand. The man spared Niers the effort of climbing all the way to the Fraerling walkways and departed via the door. Niers took the considerably quicker tunnels running through the citadel. Along the way, he spotted where the dead rat had been.
“Ah. Oops. I remember that one. Caught it running away. Must’ve slipped my mind. Oh well.”
Niers strode up the sloping walkway, navigating by memory to the waiting room. Along the way, he met a few other Fraerlings. They were employed by his company—a rare thing. Even in Niers’ company, Fraerlings were a rare sight. They wanted to stand aside, but the Titan waved them onwards.
“Keep moving, for dead gods’ sake! It’s not as if this tunnel isn’t big enough for all of us. Let the Tallfolk bump into each other.”
That made them laugh. Niers saw a new hire, the [Messenger] who’d done the delivery, point at his back. They did that, the first few months they were here. After all, there were legends of Drakes, kings and heroes of Lizardfolk, giants among the Dullahans, and so forth. Even the Goblins had kings, wretched though they were. But the Fraerlings only had one hero.
Sometimes it weighed on Niers. Sometimes he wanted to go away. To Liscor, in this case. But he couldn’t. Not just yet. So Niers sighed, kept his back straight, and prepared his entrance.
——
Xalandrass the Naga had seen better days. Worse days too, like fearing for his life while two companies battled feet from his wagon’s door. But better days, still. He’d spent a lot of his coin, or rather, lost it escaping from the battlefield. And the days since then hadn’t exactly refilled his coffers.
Still, the Naga was, if nothing else, vain. He’d brought out his best silk vest, and his hair was combed. He wore jewelry on his arms, decorative bangles, but nothing too ostentatious. His serpentine head was gently powdered, and he had oiled his scales. His long, serpentine lower half shone as he slowly entered the waiting room the [Servant] had pointed him towards.
He was afraid. Despite being a Naga, one of the forms a Lizardfolk could turn into if they were truly exceptional, Xalandrass was acutely aware of whom he was meeting. He had treated with company commanders with a mixture of arrogance and deference, but this was someone else.
“Ah. Hello?”
Xalandrass looked around as he entered. He slithered into the room slowly, watching the ground. A Naga was a humanoid upper half and a serpentine lower body. Their tails were powerful, and they were similar to Centaurs in that they resembled a cross of species. Xalandrass paused, afraid of running over something.
He knew the Titan’s true stature. In that, he wasn’t a fool. He was, slightly, in assuming that Niers would be anywhere near the ground. Xalandrass glanced over his shoulder at Peclir Im, whom he was taller than by quite a bit.
“Lord Astoragon…”
“He may be along shortly. I cannot say when he will arrive. Your patience, please. If you have any wishes for refreshment, simply ring the bell.”
“Oh, no. I am quite fine. Quite—quite fine.”
Xalandrass coughed and reassured the [Chamberlain]. Of course the Titan wasn’t here yet. He was incredibly busy. Xalandrass was just lucky to have gotten a meeting this soon. He settled back on the open carpet, breathing a sigh of relief as Peclir Im clapped his hands and a gentle [Light] spell filled the room.
Xalandrass looked around, noting that this was a room built to accommodate Naga or Centaurs. Open, without more than a single table. And on it…was a little armchair? Oh! Just the size for a Fraerling. And a fat candle, in case the [Light] spell ran out. Of course.
Xalandrass chuckled. And in that moment, as he relaxed, preparing to wait as long as it took, he was at his most unguarded. So that was obviously the exact time when Niers made his entrance. He stepped from behind the fat candle he’d specifically had placed in every room for such moments and turned.
“You—wished to see me?”
The Naga’s eyes locked on Niers. He recoiled with a shout of horror that filled the room. Niers smiled as Xalandrass reared back instinctively and then fell over himself with apologies. He flourished, giving the Naga a small bow.
“Niers Astoragon, at your service. I am pleased to meet you, Xalandrass the Naga. Peclir, thank you for bringing him here. I will see him now.”
Peclir rolled his eyes as he shut the door. Niers winked at him and then turned his attention to Xalandrass. The Naga was trying to collect himself—and failing.
“My apologies for the little surprise. How may I help you? I was told you had a matter of importance, and of course I’m eager to hear any information…of merit.”
Niers stepped around the candle in front of his armchair. This too was a tactic. Xalandrass was trying to calm down, and now Niers had cut to the heart of a subject. The Fraerling watched him carefully.
A smart negotiator might calm down and take a few breaths. Someone with ice for blood might even address Niers’ rude introduction. But Xalandrass, [Merchant] though he may be, wasn’t that good. He rushed over himself, tripping over his words in his haste to address Niers. As if he was afraid he’d be tossed out for not instantly answering the question. Well, in another company. But not here.
“Lord Astoragon. I’m so delighted—forgive me, I hardly noticed—er, I did come here with vital information! To the best of my ability. I was…you are no doubt aware I was involved in that unpleasantness between the Roving Arrow company and the Razorshard Armor company? Well, aside from the tragedy that unfolded, I made a number of significant encounters at that time.”
“Indeed?”
Niers put a lot of emotion into that one word. Impatience, a hint of intrigue…Xalandrass nodded as fast as he could.
“Indeed—yes! A number of personages took to the field. I don’t refer to the companies. But rather—that was the battlefield on which a unique individual appeared. I don’t know that you’ve heard, but the Last Light of Baleros—a [Doctor] who cures the wounded—took part in that battlefield. And I observed her work. Truly splendid. And I came here to…to tell you…”
He was mopping at his brow with a handkerchief. Niers stared at him. Suddenly disappointed, he sat down in his tiny armchair. If all Xalandrass wanted to tell him were more rumors about this Last Light, then Niers would pass. Baleros was full of legends, heroes who rose and fell in the course of a moon’s cycle.
“I’ve heard of this Last Light. But an individual, even a [Doctor] isn’t a unique occurrence on the battlefield, Merchant Xalandrass. I trust she isn’t the topic of your visit?”
The Naga gulped.
“Not entirely, Lord Astoragon. But she is related! I did, in fact, meet her. And several others whom I can only describe as—they were all part of—but perhaps I should show you this. It speaks far better than I can.”
He was fumbling with something at his side. A bag of holding. Niers eyed the odd object that Xalandrass pulled out. The Naga tried to flourish it and then panicked as he realized the only place to set it was on the table where Niers was sitting. He offered it up with two hands, slithering closer to let Niers see.
“What is that?”
Niers frowned. Of all the things he’d expected Xalandrass to pull out, this wasn’t it. He stared down at some kind of…it was a compact tube, that was for certain. And there was…glass on one end? Glass and something inside of it. But the rest was made of a colorful steel—no, it wasn’t steel. But it wasn’t wood either. Or any other substance Niers could name.
“This, Lord Astoragon, is a device I obtained on that battlefield. Not from the companies, but from some strange individuals. Humans. I believe it is known as a…flashlight. If you will allow me to activate it?”
The name was instantly familiar to Niers. You didn’t need to be a genius to know what it did. But he was intrigued. So he clapped his hands, and the lights in the room went out. In the darkness, lit only by a pair of windows covered by velvet drapes, he saw Xalandrass fumble with the device.
Belatedly, Niers wondered if this was an assassination attempt. Well, he had on his gear, and Xalandrass would have been screened. So if it was, it was original. But Niers didn’t sense a spell come at him. Instead, he heard a click—
And a beam of light shot from the end of the flashlight. It was bright. Almost painfully so. And as Xalandrass swept it up and down the room, Niers saw the glow came from the thing inside the flashlight. It was being magnified outwards. Strange. Xalandrass swept it across the room, flashing it at Niers once and then apologizing hurriedly. Then the Fraerling clapped his hands and the lights returned.
The Naga swept backwards. He gestured to the flashlight proudly.
“You see?”
“I saw a light. A cute artifact, but hardly better than a mage’s lantern. And too bright to do more than give away your position. Unless you can control the spell?”
Niers replied drily. Xalandrass wavered, and then he slapped his forehead.
“Oh! Of course! I neglected to mention—Lord Astoragon! This isn’t a mage’s artifact. This device isn’t magical. Not at all!”
He raised the flashlight. And now Niers’ eyes locked on it. He frowned.
“Explain. And bring it closer. You may place it here, please.”
He gestured to the table. Xalandrass did so, talking hurriedly.
“No magic at all. Feel free to examine it, Lord Astoragon. It’s got components inside—you can see the metal and glass past the…”
“Odd surface. Too smooth, but it’s definitely not metal. What’s it made of?”
Niers interrupted Xalandrass, running a hand along the strange body of the flashlight. He glanced up sharply and saw the Naga hesitate.
“I’m told it’s called ‘plastic’, Lord Astoragon.”
“But you don’t know. And it’s completely non-magical. Not even a rune or mana stone inside?”
“I had a [Mage] friend of mine test it. She swears there’s no magic at all.”
Now that was strange. Niers studied the device. There was no fire to it, even when he pressed the button and it lit up. Something was glowing, but—Niers went blind for a second as he stared at the glowing filament of…whatever that was inside it. That wasn’t magic. No, that was some kind of metal. Wasn’t it?
He glanced up and saw Xalandrass was watching him hopefully. Niers stepped back, hit the button on the flashlight, and decided to sit. He blinked spots out of his eyes.
“Well, Xalandrass, congratulations are in order. You’ve got my full attention.”
The Naga puffed up a little. Niers held up a hand.
“Don’t waste it. Without exaggeration, tell me. What is this device? How did you get it?”
“Ah, well, I would love to embellish the tale, but the answer is simple. I acquired it in the line of my business. A few mercenaries from a suppression company hired for the battlefield came over and tried to barter for some alcohol. They offered this in trade, and I took it.”
“For alcohol?”
Niers’ eyebrows shot way up. Even a weak artifact was worth far more than that. Xalandrass smiled.
“They were desperate. And I offered them quite a bit to drink for these trinkets. And others.”
I’ll bet you did. Niers had a low opinion of war merchants, who sold to companies when they were at their most desperate. They preyed on the short-of-luck. But he didn’t say any of that out loud.
“So, you made a good business deal from some soldiers desperate for fun. Who didn’t realize what they were carrying?”
Xalandrass pondered that.
“Let’s say that their good sense was in shorter supply, Lord Astoragon. There were others whom I made better offers to who did not relinquish their…objects. All part of the same company I might add. All Human. All new to warfare.”
“Ah.”
Niers was getting an image. A group of desperate travellers who’d bartered this away. Poor enough to work in a suppression company. But rich enough for…? And they didn’t know the worth of this.
“Tell me more. Or rather, show me.”
“The flashlight is a good start. But I obtained a handful of these during the battle. Taken from the…deceased. I traded for it with some Dullahan soldiers. To them, it was only a flash of light and sounds, but I discovered they could be [Repaired]. Sir, please look.”
If the flashlight had been calculated to grab Niers’ attention, the second thing that Xalandrass showed Niers was intended to seal the deal. Because Niers had no idea what it was. It was a rectangle. Some object made of the same foreign substance as the flashlight, but the front was smooth as glass. And it had a…button on it. And when Xalandrass pressed it hard and it came to life…
“What is that symbol? An apple?”
“Keep watching, Lord Astoragon. But—steel your eyes. There are a number of bright shapes.”
“Sound?”
“And look. If I touch this…”
The screen came to life. Xalandrass’ fingers delicately tapped one of the square beacons of light, and it expanded. Niers stared as something appeared. He saw words. Nonsensical. Xalandrass tapped one of the words, and it lit up. Everything on the thing in front of him changed. And then a face appeared. Niers jerked back, but the face was still, like a [Mage]’s illustration. And then there was music.
