The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

Mirian's aura was almost completely depleted. She was rapidly burning the ambient mana that she was absorbing, and now that she was far enough from the depths, the larger soul fragments she'd been relying on were gone. By the time she neared the surface, she realized that maintaining both a total camouflage and levitation spell would be impossible. That she was actually coming up against a limit of her mana annoyed her. She was also annoyed that she'd spent so long down there. If Gabriel didn't have an inkling of her true capabilities before, he would now.

She cast levitation just before she reached the surface. It was the easier of the two spells to maintain, partially because she'd cast it so much its mana efficiency for her was excellent. Then she burst forth from the center of the oasis, hoping that the late hour meant the crowds had mostly disappeared.

A collective gasp erupted from the shore of the oasis and everyone started pointing.

Great, thought Mirian. There was a gathering of Holy Sentinels and, by their robes they wore, several ministers. Her plan of claiming she never actually had touched the sacred waters of the oasis was, in fact, not going to work; she was dripping wet and covered in mud from the ruins.

Might as well get this over with, she decided and flew towards the shore.

A few people shouted at her. Others gaped. Some were still pointing at the water. Light from the gate was just making it up to the surface so that the waters glowed.

Mirian landed in the midst of the delegation from the palace.

"You have trespassed in the sacred waters of Mahatan," one of the robed ministers said.

Mirian had discussed this sort of scenario with Rostal. The Isheer only disagreed slightly about the status of the First and Second Prophets, calling them Chosen of the Ominian rather than the Ominian, who was the only Prophet. Different Sanctuaries had different ideas about all the Prophets after that. Either way, Chosen were not above the law. They were instead given great freedom to act, but most traditions called for councils of Rectors to assess the decision of a Chosen. This all stemmed from a time the Second Prophet was rebuked by a council of elders in ancient Alatishad.

However, traditions only really stayed as such when they were routinely practiced, and most Isheer hadn't recognized any of the later Prophets that Baracuel's Luminate Order did. That meant that they hadn't actually formed the Judgment Councils since the collapse of the Persaman Triarchy. And, with the collapse of the Persaman Triarchy, so had gone so many traditions and laws.

That was all to say, they had strategized about what Mirian might do, but there was no really predicting how most of Persama would react. Ibrahim had obviously figured out what to say, but he was also an established figure. Mirian was a stranger to these lands—in a sense.

Mahatan also didn't yet have news of Rambalda's rebellion. While the authorities of Urubandar couldn't suppress the news along the coast, they could stymie the news from traveling up river.

One of the Sentinels stepped forward. "By law of Prince Rehiz, Lord of Mahatan and Protector of the Sacred Waters—" she began.

Mirian interrupted him. "I am a Chosen of the Ominian." Belatedly, she realized that she'd forgotten to cast her illusion spell to veil the glow of her eyes. So much for that particular deception.

Murmurs ran through the crowd.

"And what, pray tell, did the Prophet of God have you doing mucking about in the oasis?" one the ministers snapped.

Mirian used the same commanding tone she'd grown to use when she revealed herself. Projecting overwhelming confidence and authority was a good way to get people to believe she had it. "Your wizards will have noticed the instability of the leylines and the resulting arcane eruptions. I activated an ancient device that will suppress the volatility of the leylines, for a time."

"A device? There are no constructs of man beneath the sacred waters!" the second minister complained, her voice shrill.

"If you don't believe me, send someone to check," she said. Do they think the waters are just glowing by themselves? "The Ominian has tasked me to investigate all forms of magic to prevent a great calamity. My next task requires access to the palace."

"Nonsense," the first minister said.

Another of the ministers was silent. He had just been listening the whole time. Mirian caught the whispers of the crowd on the wind:

"…did she cause the waters to glow?"

"…times and bandits. Something has to…"

"…think she's above the law? Why aren't they…?"

"…did she say a Chosen? There's been no…"

"…her eyes!"

The second minister said, "The Ministry of Sanctuaries commands the Sentinels to arrest this so-called 'Chosen' until a determination can be made."

The silent minister at last stepped forward and spoke. "The Ministry of Towers contravenes that order. Prince Rehiz must decide her fate."

"Minister Koyar, surely you do not mean to—"

"The Ministry of Streets accedes to the Towers," the first minister said.

That made the second minister's face turn sour, but she kept her mouth shut.

As the guards parted the crowd and escorted them towards the Mahatan Palace, Mirian went through what she knew of the city's law. The ministers clearly have some sort of long-running political game I've stepped into. But Prince Rehiz wants to be able to claim the authority to recognize or deny a Chosen. Perhaps I'll have more free rein after that. By the time the councils can assemble and discuss me, it'll be too late. It was Dualan. They had another three weeks in the cycle, depending on if Liuan stopped the Akanan invasion or not. Perhaps more if the connecting between Mahatan and Torrviol was even more effective at mitigating the leyline disturbances.

I wonder what Gabriel's doing, she thought. She scanned the crowd, but couldn't see him.

The Palace was near the oasis. A large pumping system ran behind a series of old fortifications, then led into a network of aqueducts, which in turn poured beautiful waterfalls down onto several tiered gardens. The Palace was a mess of spires, tiers, arched windows, domes, and courtyards. If Viridian was right, one of those courtyard gardens had the jeweled lotuses that were otherwise impossible to find in Persama. There was also an old treasury that Gabriel had said he'd gone rooting around in. Presumably, the ancient spellrod that Mirian had spent so many early cycles using as inspiration for her first artificing designs had originated here in Mahatan.

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As they entered the palace, Mirian noted several servants cleaning up the shards of what had been a large decorative vase. She glanced around. Several tapestries were hanging askew, and a second shattered vase lay down one of the perpendicular halls they passed. Was that because of the landslide? she wondered. She hadn't realized the collapse had been that big.

Oops.

No wonder there'd been a crowd and three ministers waiting for her. That, and she'd made the whole oasis glow. Hopefully, she could use this all to get useful information. At the very least, she'd learn more about the political dynamics of the ruling elite here.

She also could always knock her temporal anchor to end her experience of the loop. She considered that a last resort. Ending a loop prematurely just felt wasteful.

More servants were tidying up the throne room. Several of the vases inside were perfectly fine. The design looked top-heavy to her. The earthquake hadn't been that big.

The three ministers entered first, while the guards told Mirian to wait outside the throne room for several minutes. With detect life, she could see them by the prince, just in front of the dais. He was pacing back and forth. Then, after the brief discussion, he summited the dais and his throne and took up an imperial posture. Somehow, a signal was transmitted, perhaps by remote voice, and then the doors were opened to her.

Prince Rehiz was dressed simply enough. He wore a fine wrapped robe and the traditional overcoat of station. The cloth was all black, white, or gray, but the slight shimmer to the fabric indicated a quality of craft that only gold could buy.

In yet another tradition—one that Lord Saiyal of Urubandar had forsaken—Prince Rehiz wore no jewelry at all. This was symbolic of his commitment to the city. Jewelry was a mobile form of wealth, and here, he was saying he had no intention to ever leave.

"Kneel," commanded one of the Sentinels.

"I am Mirian, and I am Chosen. I am not a subject of the prince, nor is he a subject of mine," Mirian said. "There is only one king, and we are both subjects of Them."

"And of God," the second minister said. She had taken a place to Rehiz's right. The first minister was next to him.

The third minister, Minister Koyar, he'd been called, was by the prince's left side.

"I did not come here to discuss the Ominian's position in the cosmic order. Whatever you believe, we can agree They command the respect of all of Enteria, and it was by Their hand Enteria was saved. It will be through Their grace Enteria is saved again."

Prince Rehiz looked at Mirian curiously. "She is the one responsible for the recent disturbances, Minister Zeysum?"

The second minister, the one who didn't seem to like Mirian much, said, "Yes, your highness. She emerged from the oasis just after the quake and the lights. No one can account for how she entered."

"And how did you violate the sacred waters?" Rehiz asked.

"Your arcanists have informed you of the disturbances with the leylines? There's already been a leyline breach west of Alkazaria and another near Ferrabridge. Soon, arcane eruptions will become commonplace, wreaking untold devastation across the known lands. Nowhere will be safe," she told the prince.

Minister Zeysum made a small hand gesture. The prince seemed to pick up on it.

"You did not ask permission, you simply barged in. We do not take kindly to thieves or invaders in Mahatan. Tell me why I should not have you whipped, fined, and then cast out of my city like a common criminal."

Mirian assessed the balance of forces. There were six guards in the room, two of them Sentinels with spellbooks, four with wands. The Holy Sentinels also were likely equivalent to a Praetorian in strength. There were dozens more guards of various capabilities in the palace. Gabriel had mentioned a Head Wizard of the palace, and that usually meant someone with a great deal of experience. If she wasn't able to end a fight quickly, it would go bad for her as reinforcements showed up. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, but she'd drained her mana to nearly empty, and it was still slowly recovering. Nor did she want to siphon more soul fragments. There weren't so many here, and the B-class mana would further destabilize her soul before she'd had a chance to recover. Her mana reserves were vast, now, but not endless. It would be best to avoid a fight.

"Do the healers of Mahatan know the signs in the soul to look for?"

Prince Rehiz glanced at one of the Sentinels.

Mirian grit her teeth. Every conversation is a puzzle, she could hear Sire Nurea saying. So what's the angle? I doubt he'd believe me if I talked about moonfall, and he doesn't care about the leyline eruptions. I doubt even showing him a relic would help. No, he wants something. "I am a harbinger of change. Persama will not look the same when I am done here," she said.

That got Rehiz's attention again. "Really?"

"In Baracuel, I will stop a military coup against the Parliament. I will stymie the invading armies of Akana Praediar. The end result will be the collapse of the spell engine and fossilized myrvite mining industries. The balance of forces will change, but only those who are ready to seize the opportunity will benefit."

Minister Zeysum shot Minister Koyar a glance. Mahatan depended heavily on income from its mining.

"Was Mahatan poor before it began mining?"

"Of course not," said the prince, puffing up his chest. "Mahatan has always been blessed."

Thanks to Viridian, Mirian had an idea of what sort of blessing she could leverage here. Thanks to Calisto, she knew something of the economics at play. She began to spin up a story of a distant scenario. It didn't have to be true, just plausible. "As the world reels both from social upheavals, magichemical production will become even more critical. Akana's myrvite hunting will collapse as demand for spell engines plummets. Baracuel's myrvite ranches will suffer without the ability to use spellwards." She thought of Palendurio. When rule-of-law had broken down, the law of the rifle and wand had become sacrosanct. People either had an army, or they didn't. "And of course, in Persama, you already know where authority comes from. You will have both the wands and the ability to grant them to who you please—if you have adequately prepared."

The mood in the room had shifted. Regular people want the hope of a better future. But rulers… Aurum could see no boundaries, no end to his expansion. Eventually, he thought his airships would cross the uncrossable oceans. General Corrmier and Director Castill couldn't be content with being second in command. Lord Saiyal no doubt thought he could turn the might of Akana's armies against his enemies, then create an unassailable position. Prince Rehiz, it seemed, was no different. If they didn't have the ambition and pride that blinds them, they would have never reached these positions of power in the first place. In Persama, some were born into nobility, but birth alone wasn't enough to elevate them. Such inheritance might give them a manor, not a city. Rehiz had needed to overthrow a ruling council Baracuel had supported some years ago. It took endless scheming and being willing to maneuver people like they were gameboard pieces. Something I now do too, she thought bitterly.

Minister Koyar spoke up. "Your highness, the implications of this claimed Chosen are… profound."

Minister Zeysum still had a look of mistrust about her. "What reason do we have to believe any of what you said is true?"

Don't go on the defensive in a conversation, she remembered Nicolus telling her once. She continued to push at his ambition. "You have the hidden gardens. Jeweled lotuses and other rare myrvite plants, and the expertise to reproduce them. You have alchemists, but not enough. But what if you could be linked to the professors of an Academy that could quickly train up hundreds of your most ambitious workers? What if I could bring you the foremost expert in myrvite plants on the continent?"

Zeysum grinned. "That seems like a claim that can actually be tested."

Mirian kept her eyes on Prince Rehiz. He knows I'm right about the arcane eruptions. And he wants an advantage over the other factions in Persama. He doesn't want to let the mining industry go, but if he believes there's a key resource he exclusively controls, perhaps it's enough.

"You are making impossible promises," Prince Rehiz said.

"Then let us make a bargain. I will bring you several professors from the Torrviol Academy. In return, you will proclaim me as Chosen and allow study of both the hidden gardens and the scepters in the palace. This will be the first step in assessing what is required to bolster your control of what will soon be a new era. By the end of the month, you'll have your first report."

"Any fool can travel to Baracuel and back," Zeysum said.

It was Mirian's turn to smile. "Give me access to the oasis and a mana elixir and I'll have it done in four hours."

Prince Rehiz considered this. "Agreed, with a stipulation. If you have not fulfilled your end of the bargain in those four hours, you will submit to judgment by the Mahatan Council of Magisters." He gave a dramatic pause. "Likely, the punishment would be execution for profane acts and perjury to a lord."

"Agreed," Mirian said.