The King was one of the most troublesome Vroshir, a man who continued to exist only because the expense of eliminating him was too much for Makiel to justify.
He was a true threat on the level of the Court of Seven, one of the few beings in existence that could match Razael, Ozriel, or Makiel himself in combat.
Makiel’s heart hung heavy. He knew what he would see if he continued to watch. But he watched still, with only his eyes, viewing the events through the celestial lens.
The Angler and the Mad King, two of the greatest enemies of the Abidan, exchanged conversation for only two-and-a-half minutes. The Angler acted like a bored child, squirming on her luminous living throne, while the King stood like a regal corpse.
Finally, he offered payment.
When the Mad King cracked open the box, even Makiel leaned forward. Inside was a ball of life and potential, a picture of hope and power, a condensed pearl of raw existence and authority. With the physical eye, it was hard to perceive it as anything other than a ball of light, but Makiel recognized it as one of the most valuable objects to ever exist.
A Worldseed.
Even the Angler scrambled forward to clutch at the box, desperate to put her hands on this jewel of impossible value. With disgust, Makiel realized she probably wouldn’t even use it, just display it to visitors as another part of her gaudy collection.
The entire Abidan Court only had three Worldseeds to their name, and it was their fate to be used for true emergencies. There was very little a Worldseed could not do.
The Mad King pulled back slightly, and one of the robotic arms on Iri’s back reached into empty space and pulled out a black scythe.
Makiel sucked in a breath. He had personally forged the twelve prototype scythes that the Angler had stolen, so he would recognize any of them. This was an artful blend of them all, as though she had taken the best aspect of each of them and fused them together. It was masterful work, he had to admit.
It might not match Ozriel’s original scythe…but it would come closer than Makiel had ever thought possible.
Makiel felt his hope die, and he released the celestial lens. He had hoped that the Angler had been the one to eliminate Iteration 943 as a sort of test run. She was entirely self-interested, predictable, and therefore safe. If the Mad King had done it, this was only the beginning.
The King hated the Abidan. He would do anything he could to tear them down. With a Scythe in his hands…
Makiel realized his lens hadn’t closed. He looked back up into the purple-tinged screen.
He met eyes like two red suns.
The Mad King looked up at him as though he could see across time and space. This was nothing but a memory, a recording, an imprint left on the Way. There was no way to detect such contact before it occurred.
Even so, the Vroshir locked eyes with the Abidan.
Then he slowly reached out and gripped the Scythe.
Chapter 18
“Sixteen competitors remain,” the Ninecloud Soul announced to a roaring crowd. “Since we have such a wonderful even number, our patron Monarch Northstrider has decided to select this year’s Uncrowned with a round of single-elimination duels.”
The crowd gave a verbal reaction, and the Ninecloud Soul provided a few more details. Once it had finished setting up the fourth round, it returned to the topic that most interested the competitors: the prizes.
“At last, the rewards will begin. Between now and the day of the fourth round, each Monarch will bestow a gift on two participants other than their own. These are truly treasures that would inspire envy in any ordinary sect, and is a chance for the honored Monarchs to demonstrate their legendary generosity.
“As each prize is awarded, we will make an announcement, to express to the world the fortune of our surviving Underlords!”
~~~
Eithan popped out from behind a corner to surprise Veris Arelius.
She, of course, was not surprised. She had turned to face him before he emerged, eyebrows raised. “Cousin Eithan, I was just about to sit down to dinner. Would you like to join me?”
Jumping out of nowhere wasn’t nearly as satisfying when the other party could feel you coming. “Cousin Veris, a pleasure to see you again. I’m afraid I don’t have too much time, I just thought I’d make a request of your House. Could you perhaps consider not giving me a prize?”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re the best candidate. We don’t have so many resources that we can afford to spend them outside the family, and you’re our opportunity to stay within the rules.”
“Ah,” he said, “but not your only opportunity. It just so happens that there are two others with the surname Arelius in the top sixteen.”
“Not blood members of the family.”
“It’s not blood relation we need, is it?” he challenged. “It’s goodwill…and it’s money. This allows me to make sure my students get an excellent gift apiece from someone who appreciates them, while I can take a prize from outsiders.”
Veris still looked doubtful, but eventually she cocked her head. “It seems like we were too late. Someone must have very much wanted to reward you.”
“Yes,” he said, and they both looked in the direction of his room two floors up. “I had noticed that myself.”
Within the center of his room, madra from the Path of Celestial Radiance shimmered in a pillar, holding the prize he’d already received.
Veris nodded to him. “We’ll speak again before the tournament ends, but until then, don’t let me keep you. Go open your gift.”
Grateful, Eithan obeyed.
He wasn’t altogether excited about his prize. Besides House Arelius and the Akura clan, only one other faction would reward him so quickly. It would be nothing good.
When he opened his room and saw the rainbow column drifting in the center, he sent a flow of madra into it. Instantly, the nine-colored light unfolded, presenting his prize: a majestic golden cloudship the size of his palm, drifting on a cloud of the same size.
Reigan Shen’s voice echoed throughout the room.
“Eithan Arelius,” the Monarch’s recording said. “This is a model of a full-sized cloudship, The Bounding Gazelle , among the fastest my Soulsmiths have ever produced. You can use the help, can’t you? I know how much you love running away.”
The Monarch’s self-satisfied voice faded away, leaving the model of the golden cloudship drifting in midair.
Eithan let nothing affect his mind, his expression, or even his spirit. Reigan Shen’s spiritual perception could be on him, so he did not allow himself to feel any cold anger, any desire for revenge, and certainly not any flicker of contemptuous amusement. If any emotion showed in his spirit, Shen might annihilate him.
With a smile locked on his face, Eithan thanked the empty air.
~~~
A woman’s voice lectured Mercy from within the column of rainbow light. “An Archlord’s archery is very different from an Iron’s. You should be studying deeper principles, or you’ll just be propelling sticks with string forever.”
A mundane-looking scripted stone, a dream tablet, floated in the air. Mercy might not have been excited except that she recognized the voice in the recording: it was Larian, renowned archer of the Eight-Man Empire.
She had the best archery tutors in Akura territory, but other than Akura Malice herself, none of them could measure up to Larian.
“I’m going to study it right now!” Mercy promised, settling down into a nearby chair and diving into the tablet.
~~~
Ziel rolled a smooth, round pill between his fingers. It was an inch across, far too big to swallow, and glossy as though sealed in wax. It was colored cream and pink, and it smelled of a thousand types of flowers.
Emriss Silentborn’s voice was rich, motherly, and relaxed. “My Herald Chryleia refined this herself, from fruits and flowers gathered throughout the world as well as a drop of my own sap. It will not restore to you the power you’ve lost, but with time, it will begin to loosen your knotted madra channels. This will be painful. It will take time, and your soul will need great nourishment. However, with the blessings of heaven, you may function as a normal Underlord one day.”