The commandeered ballroom hummed with frantic energy. Witches and battle-mages moved at the periphery, whispering urgent reports and ferrying missives, but Orion kept his focus locked on the map of Cyril hovering above the table.
The Wraithgem processed the vast influx of strategic data in a fraction of a second, categorizing everything from troop movements and supply-line disruptions to active combat zones.
Immediately, it became clear why his mother had retreated to Silverpeak. The Iron State had decided to go for broke and had begun sending waves of kamikaze machines rigged to explode into clouds so toxic that even their metal chassis couldn’t withstand them.
This had essentially destroyed any position within fifty miles of the front lines, but it also made it impossible for anyone to move it any further until it vanished, which was predicted to take anywhere from a few weeks to several months. Some projections were as long as a decade, though Orion believed the druid would be able to cleanse the land much sooner if they were allowed to work undisturbed.
More flashpoints were scattered across the Magocracy, showing signs of attacks and troubles far, far away from where the Iron State was operating.
And I suppose the surprise attack on the Sunken Hold by the new Dreadnought was just another of these, one we unknowingly foiled.
Asteria stood opposite him, leaning over the map, her expression as unyielding as cold iron.
"Archmage Ulysses has called for a Vote of No Confidence," she repeated, drawing everyone’s attention. "The Senate will convene tomorrow, and I’m sure he’s working to suborn as many votes as possible as we speak.”
“Why is he so focused on the Senate?" Jordan asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to the map. "I thought the Speaker answered to the High Council. How can a single faction vote him out of power?”
"Because of the structure of the Magocracy," Esmeralda answered smoothly, not taking her eyes off the several red markers around the Twilight Lands. "The High Council is the ruling body of Cyril, comprising all the major factions, but the Speaker is merely a designated representative. Antares only holds that seat because the Arcane Collegium put him there. The Senate is the internal governing body of the Collegium, composed exclusively of Archmages and Mages of great repute. If the Senate revokes his status as their representative, he loses the Speakership by default.”
Garrick scowled. “And they think they can just vote him out? The man has held the country together by sheer force of will. Ulysses is a fool if he thinks the factions will simply accept a change in command while the Iron State is at the door.”
"Ulysses is many things, but he is no fool," Asteria replied bitterly. "He is rushing the vote because he is running out of time. Antares has been dismantling his traps faster than he can lay them, and if he had waited any longer, even his longtime allies would not have been willing to give him a chance.”
Shaking her head, she placed a slender finger on the eastern edge of the map. "The enemy has launched two major blitzes in the last forty-eight hours. One was led by the psychic entity that once held the dragon Behenien in thrall. It forced its way through the Belt and sent enough monsters around the Tower of Ambition into a frenzy, locking the adventurers down, especially since it was followed by a pod of Cetoides, whale-like monsters that can easily reach Tier Four and usually live deep in the Ocean.”
Orion felt a surge of adrenaline at the mention of the creature. He still remembered the terrified looks on the faces of the fishermen who had seen it subjugate Behenien.
He didn’t remember reading about Cetoides, but if they were numerous enough, he could imagine even the Guildmaster would have to be careful when facing them.
"Antares faced the psychic himself," Asteria continued. Though her expression remained professional, Orion thought there was a hint of approval. "He tore the creature's projections apart and slaughtered its escort, forcing it to flee. Ulysses had laid several political and magical snares across the provinces, hoping to bog him down in bureaucracy and skirmishes, but he dismantled a week’s worth of obstacles in a single day and got there in time before the frenzy spilled into inhabited lands. He is still our greatest strength, and Ulysses knows that if he returns to the capital before the vote concludes, the coup will fail.”
"So where is he?" Erethemor rumbled, smoke curling from his nostrils. "The Speaker is strong; we all know it, but why has he not marched into Valderun and burned the traitor to ash? And why has he allowed so many traitors to remain in the Senate if he knew they were connected to Ulysses?”
“I will answer your second question first,” Asteria said, glancing down at Orion, who had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed, since he was behind it. “Antares’ raise was not planned, but it happened very quickly at the urging of a few specific people. This has made his base somewhat fragile and largely reliant on his personal power rather than connections, especially since he himself is not a very social man.”
Saying it happened quickly was an understatement. His father had gone from a reclusive Archmage to Speaker in a single night, and had taken the mantle only because he’d managed to defeat Ulysses in a duel. If that hadn’t been an option, Orion had little doubt the ancient mage would have come out on top.
He’s probably been building up to this moment ever since, suborning and entreating everyone who could vote. He couldn’t have done it very fast, or he would have been noticed, but if he could infiltrate Verner into our team, he must have contacts all over.
“The first question is easier. Ulysses found a distraction large enough to bind his hands, even after the first failed attempt,” Asteria said grimly. She shifted her finger to the southeastern coastline of the map, where a cluster of red markers indicated an active site. "A monster frenzy erupted from the abyssal trenches between the Dragonspite Dominion and the Twilight Hordes. Tens of thousands of corrupted beasts are washing over the coastal settlements. Antares could not ignore it. Abandoning the civilians would cost him the support of the moderates, and fighting the swarm takes time. Ulysses orchestrated the crisis to draw him as far from Valderun as possible, buying himself the time he needed to secure the Senate.”
“We have to go to Valderun ourselves, then,” Orion said with sudden certainty. "We have proof of Ulysses’s collusion with the Iron State from Verner’s own words. If we present it to the Senate, we can cut the legs out from under the vote.”
"Getting into Valderun is the problem," Asteria countered. "Ulysses cast a strange, ancient ward over the entire country, and it is strongest in the capital. It is a suppressing field that blocks all spatial magics meant to transport people over vast distances, and it has been spreading unevenly, which is why I had to drag you to Silverpeak instead.”
Orion frowned, tapping a finger against the table's edge. "You are a Tier Four spatial caster, Mother. Surely you can shatter a jamming field, especially with the help of other Elders or even the High Priestess.”
"Seraphina could," Asteria agreed, though her voice held little relief. "Antares or some of the other faction leaders could break it as well. But doing so would require immense brute force. The field Ulysses deployed is woven directly into the fabric of reality. If we shatter it, we’ll destabilize the dimensional barrier for days, which would be just as bad, if not worse.”
Erethemor shifted in his seat, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Enough waffling. If it is the only way, we must use it.”
"You do not understand what that would cause, dragonkin," Asteria snapped, her patience wearing thin. "A destabilized reality is an open door, allowing Outsiders to slip through the cracks. Eldritch horrors that dwell in the spaces between dimensions. No, we cannot risk an incursion of that magnitude in the heart of our most populous city. Ulysses knows this. He is holding the capital hostage behind a shield we dare not break.”
Silence fell over the table. The tactical brilliance of the coup was undeniable. Ulysses had isolated the only man strong enough to stop him, sealed the capital behind a potentially explosive ward, and cornered the Magocracy’s political apparatus.
"We may not need to break the shield," Orion said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention.
“During our passage through the gate, I felt the suppressing field was a net," Orion explained, drawing on the Wraithgem’s processing power. He projected the ward as a vast grid spanning Valderun and the majority of Cyril, covering the map with red lines. "You said breaking it shatters the fabric of reality. But what if we simply stretch the gaps? If you provide the raw mana, I might be able to fold a spatial slipknot, a wormhole to slip through the gaps in his net without snapping the threads.”
Asteria stared at him in surprise, but quickly began considering the offer in earnest. To thread a needle through an active suppression field without triggering a catastrophic dimensional collapse was a feat that defied conventional magic.
"The danger involved would be staggering, Orion," she warned. "Even a minor miscalculation would rebound the spell, tearing us apart.”
“I’m not worried about making mistakes,” he said, pulling up his pendant to reveal the Wraithgem in all its glory. “It is the power requirements that are my limit. I need someone else to serve as the engine, preferably someone familiar enough with my particular brand of magic to let me direct the power as I see fit,” he concluded, staring at her meaningfully.
They both knew it meant her. There were several others who could have supplied the power, but nobody who’d not flinch before a completely different—and possibly heretical—casting style.
"Could it work?" Garrick asked, looking at Asteria, who gave a slow nod.
"It will get us into the city," Orion confirmed. "But once we get there and into the Collegium, which is no easy feat, we’d be surrounded by Archmages who are currently debating a coup. We need someone who will give us the floor.”
"Archmage Mallon," Asteria stated without hesitation. "He is the former Speaker. A traditionalist, stubborn as stone, but he values proof above all else. He has sufficient authority to halt the proceedings if you claim to present evidence of treason. We must get to him.”
“Then we have a plan,” Jordan said with a smile, even though everyone could see his tension.
Orion didn't think any less of him for that. What they were doing was nothing short of mad.
It would have been more rational to hope that one of the great powers of Cyril would intervene first, or even that Antares would settle the monster waves quickly enough to return.
Going there themselves… Well, if Ulysses won, they’d be dead either way, so Orion didn’t see this as too risky.
"Let us get to work. This won’t be easy,” Asteria commanded, stepping away from the table. She directed the nearby witches to clear the center of the ballroom, pushing the furniture toward the walls.
Orion had to agree. Reviewing the readings he’d gathered during the transition, he could already tell they weren’t enough to establish a working model of the immense ward.
“We’ll have to make a few attempts to get a better sense of how it works first,” he said, earning a nod from his mother, who quickly began drawing on the Field and trying to tear open another portal.
Tuning in with all his senses, Orion watched as the spatial gate fizzled, failed to link to the other side, and eventually collapsed in on itself.
“Damn it, it was fully patched,” Asteria cursed, but Orion didn’t share her despair, too busy building a new model from the influx of data he’d received.
He hadn’t lied when he said it would take a while, but he could see the first signs of a structure coming together.
“Again,” he said.