Adamant Blood

It had been a few days since the Ether Turtle attack. There was no follow up. No surprise bombs. No attacks on the settlement at all. Or at least none that Mark knew about, and Mark had been waiting for something to happen. There wasn't much to do besides wait, though. Mark wasn't a part of the investigations and he would not become part of the investigations, either.

"You can't leave the settlement, and we're doing investigations outside, Mark," Lola had said, "We'll be back to training soon enough."

Since then, Lola had been working with Walter and others.

Mark had other things to do, anyway.

Mark was gonna see what this whole Mage Society thing was about again, and he even had an appointment.

The Mage District of the settlement was in the same place it had started, north of the lake, between the Noble District and the original castle complex, where Castle North and Castle South still stood, as the center of the settlement. Out of all of the settlement, the Mage District was the one place that Mark had rarely been to, because he was specifically disallowed. Oh sure, there was the public tram stop and lots of shops in the exterior district. Lots of those places.

But Mage Society and the original tram stop were all behind high walls enchanted to obfuscate what was going on inside. This was rather normal for Mage Societies across the Two Worlds. They weren't very good illusion wards; not like the ones on Inquisitor's Hall. They were basic distortion wards, making sure that you couldn't look into the arcanaeum, onto student notebooks, to see what they were talking about.

Inquisitors could go through to the walled compound all the time, though, as could anyone who was invited.

Mark was not an Inquisitor yet, but he had been invited.

Mark got off of the main tram, at the main tram station, where hundreds of people disembarked and embarked at the same time. He walked across the platform, to turnstiles that had mages in robes standing near them. Big signs held on the walls in this part of the station read 'Mage Society Only' and in smaller words 'Or approved guests'.

Mark held out a letter of introduction—

"You're already approved, Mister Careed," said the guard on duty, on the other side of the turnstile. "Come on through."

Mark walked on through, saying, "Well alright then."

Beyond the guard on duty, near the small trams that went into the walled compound, stood a guy who was waiting for Mark.

That guy bowed a little, saying, "Greetings, Mark Careed. I'm Mage Tombsigh, and I've been assigned as your escort here in the compound. Would you please follow me?"

"Sure!" Mark said, fine with playing along. "So that's a unique mage name?"

"I cannot speak on Mage Secrets, Mister Careed," Tombsigh said.

The small tram cart opened up, and Mark walked onto the car. Tombsigh walked in with him.

Mark wanted to roll his eyes and say something crass about 'mage secrets', but what he did was grab onto the railing overhead and hold on as tram doors shut, now that there were passengers. For the transition into the actual mage compound, through the curtain wall, every tram car only had room for four people, and a rather strict weight limit. Mark and Tombsigh and Mark's backpack made of 187 kilos of adamantium took up a lot of space in the small, almost private vehicle. The three of them were well under the weight limit.

Still, though… This was a lot of adamantium, and maybe Mark should have gone to the bank before coming here. He just hadn't had the time, really, ever since fighting that ether turtle had given him a little over a whole liter of adamantium.

Tombsigh focused on Mark's 'backpack' a lot, even though Mark was wearing his Ring of No-Wealth.

It was slightly concerning, but then again, one didn't need to know the direct value of something to understand that it was a lot of money, and mages understood the value of adamantium more than anyone, even if Mark's adamantium was hidden by the illusions on his belt. The black metal currently looked like soft grey fabric. The coloring was the only thing changed by the illusionary belt; the fabric texture and shape was all Mark—

Some guys in the walls were looking at Mark's backpack a lot now, too.

Mark frowned a little bit.

The tram was going through a long tunnel of scanners and there were some alerts, no doubt, when the better scanners overcame Mark's trinket of a ring. The guys watching the cameras were freaked. 16 billion goldleaf would do that to some people. Some of them were arguing loudly with others over what they were seeing, for whatever reason. Greed and worry; seemed like.

Lots of people got really fucking greedy when 16 billion goldleaf was right there in front of them.

… Mark needed to dump some of this stuff off with Marigold Metallic, and Metallic bank. It was honestly uncomfortable sometimes to walk around with all this wealth, and today was one of those times. Oh well. Too late now.

It always got like this around mages, and it was especially bad ever since Mark outed himself as adamantium blooded at the end of the Battle For Memphi. For two months there, Mark was getting veiled and sometimes real threats to get him to make deals with this guy or that girl or whatever organization, and so Mark had said 'fuck that' and gone his own way.

Mark had cut off a few more limbs here and there when a few people got really 'pushy', but Marigold dealt with all of those people now...

This tram ride was slow-rolling into town, it seemed, so Mark asked, "So? Tombsigh? You're not ravenously hungry for adamantium right now, which is strange considering the argument I hear in the walls, and the reason that the tram is going this slow."

Tombsigh was still and silent.

The guys in the walls went stock still.

And then someone pressed a button out there and the tram got moving faster, and then the argument in the walls continued.

The tram exited the wall and entered into the sunlight of Mage Society, and Tombsigh said, "My Power doesn't come from things like adamantium. It would be useful, of course. But I need strong souls to bind, first, and I have all of those I can handle."

"Ah! Necromancer, then? What with the name and all."

"Spiritualist. Necromancer is the more general Skill."

"It occurs to me that you might have asked to escort me, because of the Ether Turtle?"

The tram stopped and Tombsigh had a twitch of satisfaction in his vector as he stepped off, saying, "I would greatly love to speak with you about your battle with the Ether Turtle, but only if you wish."

Mark looked at the guy and saw a man in his 40s who seemed secure in his power, but who also wanted more, for whatever reason. Probably normal reasons. This was a settlement and everyone here desired the strength to make the world into what they wished it to be. Mark walked with the guy, off of the tram platform, saying, "I have a question first. What would a possible timeline of events look like, with regard to populating the death cave, and the installation and activation of the control module on the Ether Turtle?"

The two of them stepped onto the main avenue of Mage Society.

The walls of Mage Society were maybe a kilometer in diameter, with the main thoroughfare going from here, at the tram station at the southern area, to the northern area, where the arcanaeum sat. The whole road ahead was maybe 300 meters long, and more like a park than a road. The center was all rolling grass with a few nice trees, with specialty mage shops lining the edges.

Mark caught sight of that one building up ahead where he had sat on Tartu's chest and cracked the guy's nose and teeth with his fists… Gods, that felt like forever ago.

Mark still smiled at that memory. Back then you could take the tram directly here, but Mark attacking Tartu like that had sped up some security timetables. The walls around this place went up just after the Battle For Memphi.

There were lots of students up and about, wearing robes and learning from books as they talked to each other at tables here and there, like this was a college campus. Mark supposed it was an arcanaeum campus, so that made sense. 'College' students abounded.

"The Ether Turtle's timeline seems straightforward, but it is not straightforward at all," Tombsigh began, "The events as we know them are: 6 days ago, an unaware team punctured a seemingly natural seal on the death cave, and then 3 days later, the Ether Turtle makes a move that it has never made before, due to being notified of the presence of the death cave. Then you and your team kills the turtle, and the turtle self-detonates into deathfire. The death cave, meanwhile, was filled with… let's call it nascent death. Nascent death allows for death-aspected monsters to grow in strength very quickly. It's also one of the most insidious and dangerous forms of death. Like brawny-strength steroids. Not good for any normal person, and only useful in small doses over long times for brawnies.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"In a normal situation, considering no subterfuge, the turtle meeting that cave would have had the turtle settling in on the location and very slowly drinking the nascent death over the course of 2 to 5 years. Any faster than that and it would have risked what we saw happen: the explosion. Which was the point of bringing the two things together, so we can safely assume this was a planned horror.

"Incidentally, the actual value of that cave, as it was, was probably somewhere in the 3-million-goldleaf range. It's safer that it's gone, but it wouldn't take too much to build another one, though building such a thing close to civilization is a terrible, terrible idea.

"The longest possible time frame for the creation of the death cave is months long, but I doubt that would be the case of what happened here. Old scans of the location show just a normal cave, maybe 20 meters deep, until about 17 days ago, when the images on the scan starts to remain static. The algorithms tell me that, though; I have no way of actually verifying it myself.

"Depending on how much money they wanted to spend, or how much access they had to funds or everything, someone with death mana could have set it up either 15 days ago, seeding the cave with various things that caused a cascading death slime accumulation and spawning. Or they set it up as little as 7 days ago, and they flew in all of the slime. The second one is the more expensive one, changing the costs.

"If someone made the cave on a budget, then they knew what they were doing and it cost them maybe 300,000 goldleaf, and they started 17-ish days ago.

"If someone made the cave as an attack, using a short time window, then they could have started 7 days ago, a day before the delvers opened the cave, and that could have cost them 3 million goldleaf in nascent death and another several million in transportation costs. The transportation costs would be the big thing.

"There's no actual evidence that the two events were connected at all, though; only that the control module on the turtle likely directed the turtle down there. All I know is that there was a cave full of nascent death, and it was opened, perhaps early, and the turtle was told of it." Tombsigh finished with, "Anyway! That's most of my rambling opinion on all of that. I already spoke to Inquisitor Lola about it. I hope she finds whoever did all of that, but it is very possible that there were no true ill-intents at all. Perhaps the person running the cave had installed the module on the turtle to warn themselves if the turtle came closer, and then something malfunctioned. Either way, the turtle getting near that cave was going to be a very bad thing, as we almost found out."

He had more to say, but Tombsigh wrapped it up because they had reached the main arcanaeum building.

Mark simply asked, "And you told Lola all of this?"

"We had a 3 hour conversation yesterday. Reminded me of being a child again and getting my Inquisitor pass to let me graduate from arcanaeum."

Yet another interesting thing, right there. So you needed an Inquisitor to sign off on your education? Or was Tombsigh telling Mark that because it was an odd thing to have such a requirement for graduation, and he wanted to be outside of the pool of suspects.

Mark said, "Thank you for all of that. I didn't know."

Tombsigh paused. "You're not in the investigation?"

"You thought I was? Ah heck no. They don't tell me shit."

Tombsigh paused a lot, and then he laughed. He smiled as he turned toward the big walkway leading into the arcanaeum, to the open doors and guard station in the middle of it all. "Let's get you checked in."

Mark walked up the stairs with the Spiritualist mage. This time he had to actually show his introduction letter to the guard. That guard knew him, too. Most people did. In fact, all the way through Mark's walk up here, people had been taking notice. Some even got out their phones before older parties near them started telling the kids 'no pictures inside the walls!'. Some guys took pictures anyway.

The guy next to yet another scanner right inside the doors to arcanaeum did not know who Mark was, though.

"Please empty your backpack onto the table, and turn off all possible magic, thank you," said the guy manning the scanner.

"… I realize that's probably normal procedure" Mark said, wanting to be polite to the ignorant but not willing to be separated from his adamantium at all, for any reason, "But check with someone else who actually knows me and then see if I need to do as you request."

The guy, who had been bored, now stared at Mark and frowned. "Take your backpack off, kid, deactivate all magic, and then—"

Tombsigh, who had already walked through the professor's line, and who was on the other side of the check, stepped forward, saying, "Uh, Bertrand? Please let Mark Careed, AKA the villain Blackvein, through the checkpoint."

"No way," Bertrand said, staring at Mark. "I know this trick. Mister Careed is not allowed on Mage Society land, so…" Bertrand looked at Mark again, and then he blinked and kinda froze. He recognized Mark, now, and so he reached over and pressed a button, muttering, whispering, "Black gods." Mark probably wasn't meant to actually hear that curse. The scanner flickered and visibly turned off, lights going dead. Betrand spoke in a more formal tone, saying, "Apologies, Mister Careed. I would, of course, not seek to separate you from your…" He shook his head, not willing to finish his own incrimination, or whatever it was he was feeling.

The guy had a complicated, embarrassed vector right now.

Mark said, "No worries," and kept walking, into the heart of the arcanaeum of the settlement.

There were people. Mark knew some of them by sight, but not by name at all. A pair of guys stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing Mark, and they waved. Mark waved back, and the guys —unknown to him— kept walking—

Mark stopped in the middle of the center of the arcanaeum.

His heart had skipped a beat.

Oh my god, I'm actually here. And I'm not trespassing! I was invited.

The original arcanaeum of the settlement was built by Eliot and so Mark had seen parts of it, but that was when it was a great big box of a building. The arcanaeum of today was crafted by stone and other mages in great efforts and magics, and that showed. It was art, and Mark was properly awed. Mark almost imagined himself as a normal student, too, following in his parents' original footsteps to take a single year of arcanaeum to get a chosen Power, and then be done.

Tall ceilings and domes were full of light and imagery that Mark had never seen before, anywhere. He was used to depictions of the Pantheon high overhead, of Freyala with her wide wings, of Hearthswell and her lighthouse-like castle, of Verdago like a green light inside farmlands. He was not used to seeing open books and people standing hand in hand around great lights, and darkness being destroyed by beams of power, but mostly, he was not used to hidden messages in the art. There were strings of shapes, from hexagonal to boxy-stuff, to lines and twists, and more. A lot more. The shapes were printed like words on the pages of the painted books, and they were inside the beam of light, like repeated mantras. Quark noticed the 'mana shapes', as Mark recognized them, and he instantly began marking them in Mark's vision.

They were everywhere.

They were in the signs over the hallways beyond this central courtyard, and doubled up with normal words written in a language of Daihoon that Mark also did not know. Some other language? Well sure. Lots of those running around. A language that would make walking through this space impossible for people not familiar with the language? Very yes.

Mark saw nothing written in English, or Xerk, or any of the other languages Mark knew.

He could learn a new one easily enough…

Mark found himself kinda buoyed. Floating, almost.

This was fucking awesome.

Mark knew he would probably never cast any real magic, because he already had a whole lot of magic going on, but unless Grand Mage Rekaro Solari offered him a bad Mage Society contract today then Mark was going to accept and start learning some real deep secrets.

Mark turned toward Tombsigh. The guy's face and vector were excited and satisfied. Mark was simply thrilled. "Which way to Solari?"

Mark could feel out where the Grand Mage was, because Mark had been feeling out the place for a little while now and the Grand Mage had 'felt back', tapping Mark's Unionsense with his own whatever-Skill, or spell, or whatever he did. Blackthorn could do the same thing. So Mark could have walked there from here, but that would have been rude to Tombsigh.

Tombsigh gestured down the hallway to the left, toward Rekaro Solari, saying, "This way please, Mister Careed. And if you don't mind me asking about the Ether Turtle…?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Did it really not have an attention vector?"

"90% of the time, it felt like a trap monster. Is that significant for necromancy?"

"I will be sure to make a list of your questions and answer them, as soon as you have a Mage Society contract."

Mark snorted. "Okay, sure. Any other questions?"

"Were you able to feel any living monsters in the swarm..."