Arthurian Cultivation

We'd settled into an uneasy watch, keeping an eye on the nervous gathering of Divine Cultivators. The cultists desperately gathered glamour after being drained by their priest. Ursul returned three hours later, and the same process repeated. I assumed that Ursul wasn't giving them any time to rest, so the group had to be running on fumes.

Our domed hideaway was getting stuffy. We’d reinforced the rune stones, helping hide our signatures from those seeking us, and muting any noise we might make. The cultivators did little of note, though that did tell us they were lax in their patrols and clearly feeling the effects of their exhaustion.

Lance and Gawain joined us in our hide. Archimedes and Gring both headed back to the camp, their huge forms too big for the dome. The pair were windswept, crystals of ice layering their furs. We all had a good laugh when Lance fell through the trick seat Bors had made for me, all except Gawain, who just wore the face of a put-upon father wrangling wayward children. A good sign that whatever they'd seen wasn't so vile as to rob them of their mirth.

“Alright, so we've got four camps. North and South are the same, lots of Paiges and Squires, a couple of Knights and a Priest. Then there are two Knight Lord camps, or at least I assume that's the level they are at. I couldn't get close enough to check their cultivation. They've got fewer people, but each has got fancy tents and all that. One of them is praying in crimson robes, the other in armour. Both have this kind of golden floating disc above their head. So, Taliesin, how fucked are we?”

“So it sounds like we've got a ‘Saint’ and a ‘Cardinal’, which is marginally better than facing off against two Saints but not by much,” I replied.

“Maybe Bors and Gawain know, but not all of us have a lot of training on the stupid names they give themselves. What does that mean?” Lance asked.

“The right so the Clergy, is the name for their equivalent of witches, though way less dangerous in my opinion. The Clergy focus way less on combat than witches do. They are very good at formations though, and kind of passable at alchemy. What they excel at is rituals and something they call ‘Power of the Host’. They're really good at moving around large amounts of glamour from their believers. That's what we're seeing happening when they power the runes.”

“While I agree with Sir Taliesin, remember they're still Steel. They’re no pushover. They might take slightly longer to obliterate us than a Saint, but our deaths are the only outcome if we come to the attention of either of those monsters,” Gawain said, pausing his rough sketch on the floor that mapped out the surrounding area.

“Don't worry, I wasn't about to try and go toe to toe with someone who could punch me over the mountains,” Lance snarked back, needling the staunch Knight.

“And they are all keeping the runes charged? Or is the Saint on watch?” Bors asked Gawain.

“I think they're both keeping the runes going, but the Saint at least. Something about their camp made me think they were able to move about a bit. It's snowing but I could see tracks leading from them and back to where they were kneeling before the statue.”

“There are very few beasts around here, far less than I'd expect. I suspect the Saint heads out to deal with them, so the rest can keep the formations powered. The Cardinal, was it? Yeah, he even had snow on top of him. He's not moving.”

“There’s also something I should make you aware of, Sir Taliesin. On the north side, inside the barrier, we can see the ruins of their first camp. Within, I spotted a banner you'd know well, a bleeding dragon, its blood collected in a chalice,” Gawain explained.

“There’s a Harkley here?” I felt the smouldering coals of the anger I could never quite extinguish flare up.

“I mention this not so you can go on some rampage but in case it tells you who we face. I cannot help but notice that they're hiding which Rays they're associated with. I see no pennants indicating their allegiances.”

“I am a Bard, not a berserker. I'm not about to storm off to slaughter them,” I snapped. Not for lack of wanting to do just that, but I was nothing if not patient in seeking justice.

“Who are we facing then?” Lance asked.

“The worst kind of scum,” I replied, still trying to process my thoughts, exploring the possibilities of who it could be.

“Anything new to add or are you just going to brood over there in the corner?” Lance retorted, her normally warm voice turning icy.

“It’s not a corner. It’s a circular bloody room.” I replied. Then a loud clap silenced us all. We all turned to Bors in horror.

“Thanks for keeping us silent in here, Gaz. Look, we need a plan,” Bors declared, then just stared me dead in the eye.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“You're basically a less pretty version of Percy, and Percy makes the best plans.” Bors waved his hands as if such things were obvious.

“I like to think that the group working together would make the best plans.”

“Yeah, that sounds exactly like something she'd say as well. Then we all talk for a bit, and she'll somehow come up with something that none of us thought of that's the best solution.” He grinned.

“All right, then aren't we missing a step? The bit where we all share some ideas?” I pointed out.

“Oh right, yeah can't just skip to the end.” He smiled sheepishly. We all got a chuckle at that, even Gawain. Some of the tension bled out of the room. I was still on edge about the possible Harkley. But I fought it down.

What followed was a complex planning session. Gawain and Bors worked together to turn his rough sketch on the floor into a scale model of our target. The earth was shaped to create the land, while dull little crystals formed to indicate the soldiers and tents. We used silver coins to indicate the handful of Irons and gold for the two Steels.

The most common idea was to use some kind of avalanche. It had begun snowing again and the mountains were laden with thick sheets of ice and snow. Others suggested seeing if we could lure beasts towards the weaker groups from multiple directions so the Saint's attention would be split. The other big suggestion was we do something to interfere with the formation, stressing it between their camps. I felt that if it contained what was likely a peak steel fae bear, it was unlikely we'd be able to do much of anything. Worse, it put us in striking range.

It fell to either me or Gawain to point out the various problems with the plans. As we argued back and forth, I felt it important to remind everyone of something they were forgetting.

“Remember, just because we only see two Steels doesn't mean that's all there is. Equally, there might be a few Irons around ready to handle problems.” I said, even as I privately thought the chance was remote. The groups looked so incredibly desperate, and when we'd been watching them they had sentries who watched the snows with clear fear in their eyes. Still, it was better to not assume anything, especially with a Harkley involved.

I realised then that Bors had distracted me with his whole ‘make a plan’ goal. The giant man, while often playing the fool, was remarkably good at reading people. He must've seen my mood.

“So I can't be certain, but this is likely the Rays of Bonds, and only them. They've got the greatest concentration of Clergy, and it's where the Harkleys’ allegiances lie. They tend to do the most work with the Inquisition or the Ray of Mercy. I don't see any sign of either group here, and both of those groups are terrible at keeping a low profile.”

“The Inquisition would make sense, that's who we followed to find this place. It's possible that the Inquisitors were mostly wiped out when Ursul came out. The majority of the Knights and Squires we saw within the Fae Realm were aligned with the Inquisition.”

“How much of a timer are we on then? Why haven't they got a load of Inquisitors turning up to help? Or other Rays for that matter? I know you say they don't get along well, but this is a fae realm we're talking about here.”

“Politics. The Inquisitors outrank any single other Ray, but two Rays can unite to question them, and three can overrule them. As it’s basically impossible to get three of them to agree on anything substantial, it means only the worst offences are countered this way. Or lots of politics is required. We know that the other Rays active in this area are Sacrifice and Protection, neither of which are close with Bonds. That means if Bonds gets them involved, it'll lose out more than if it just holds out for Inquisitor backup.”

“And they're not here because?”

“Well, we did kill a couple of their minions which could've messed up their plans, but it's more likely that the Inquisitors can’t deploy their people without the other Rays asking questions. Especially with the attack on Fosburg occurring, the Inquisitors would be under pressure to explain why they aren't helping.”

“I hate that I don't know what's happening there. I checked when we flew, but there's something about those runes which is making it impossible to grasp the dream threads for miles around here.” She kicked the wall and slumped into her seat, leaning against the hard stone wall. “I want to know what's happening in town. Check my family is safe.” We all waited but there was no eruption of emotions like there had been last night.

We'd all been woken when she exploded out of her trance in the middle of the night. A mess of emotions and fear for her family. After we'd identified it was a disruption, not a lack of contact from her family she'd gotten very quiet and begun packing. After Gawain's escape our foes must've become concerned about their unknown opponents still within the realm. Unable to deal with them and the bear they'd drowned out the surrounding area with a distortion of dream glamour. Even after I explained we had no idea how far the distortion spread, we'd still had to spend an hour convincing Lance not to try hiking down an unfamiliar mountain in the middle of a storm. Seeking some new location where the trance would work.

It was Gaz who'd finally got her to see sense, he'd dumped a bucket's worth of ice-cold water over her. As she stood spluttering, and ready to commit murder, he'd explained that ‘if she was going to be an idiot she could do them the courtesy of letting them see the full extent of it before heading off to die’. When she tried to insist that she'd have been fine if she'd not been soaked, his rebuttal was that it was colder out there than any water he could call on. That finally seemed to set her straight.

I had forgotten to extend the stress that this must be putting Lance and Gawain under. Fosburg was their home, for Lance it was basically the only home she'd ever known. I found myself so focused on the problem ahead, and on getting to Sephy that I'd pushed the challenges of Fosburg to the back of my mind.

“As frustrating as that is, it’s another reason they can't get help. Dream mana is what most use for long-distance communication. They can't risk Ursul having some way to use it to reach out, so they've had to block it for everyone just to be safe.”

“So if we take it down we might be opening up channels for them to communicate.”

“Yes. And while they likely don't want to let the other Rays know about this they might reach out for help if they're certain they're going to lose the realm.”

“Not a problem if they're all dead,” Lance muttered.

“Where's the nearest place they could get reinforcements?” Gaz asked, his more political mind no doubt imagining the different paths.

“That's beyond my knowledge, but given we're between Chox and Artoss lands, I'd say the Artoss lands would be the most likely.” I didn't know a lot about the Divine Cultivators movements, my spy work had been focused on the Harkleys and what gossip they brought me.

“Why's that?” Gaz asked.

“I mean the patriarch has been cosying up to them for years. Why do you think I was sold off?”

“No, that's all changed. The new patriarch, Pellinore Artoss, ascended to Mythril and killed his father taking control of the family. He's been scouring the bastards out of his territory with a vengeance.” Gaz corrected me.

“What?” I felt my jaw drop.