Chapter 5

“If repetition is the mother of learning then failure is its father. But while those who pursue the lesser disciplines can make full use of both of education’s parents, the mage is limited to repetition alone. Failure in most fields is not immediately lethal, while for the mage protected by modern medicine and wards, failure is their most likely cause of death.”

—The Argument for Unification, Albrecht Magnus

Everything on Sylvas schedule that morning had now vanished. His whole life was now consumed by ‘Training with Instructor Vaelith’ and if it was anything like the training that he’d experienced last time around, he might not survive it.

Gathered in the Blackhall mess, he got to catch up on how the upcoming tournament was effecting everyone else. So far, it mostly wasn’t. The majority of the recruits on the naval track hadn’t even heard about personal training with an instructor, let alone known that they could request it.

“I’m going to ask Quartermaster Chul to train me.” Havran grinned. “She can spend all day doing bicep curls with me as the weight.”

That drew only a momentary awkward silence before everyone else pushed on. Ironeyes stroked his beard. “Reckon I’ll see what Vilmander can do for me. Get the old battery to full charge.”

“Forget all that, go to Sagran, get some gear made up.” Kaya’s eyes were gleaming with the possibilities.

“But none of you have had your schedule changed yet?” Sylvas tried to bring them all back to his original question.

“It is still weeks away, is it not?” Bael’s eyebrow raised minutely.

Sylvas settled back in his chair with an internal grumble. It was obvious that he was getting special attention, first because of his affinity, and now because of his potential to damage worldsouls, but this intervention from on high to put him directly under Vaelith’s control seemed ham-handed, even by the usual standards of the Ardent.

Bael moved on seamlessly. “I believe that I might make an attempt to secure some one on one time with Instructor Fahred. I understand that he is free and his contributions would doubtless be invaluable to my improvement as a caster.”

“Good call.” Sylvas felt slightly numb as he said it, unsure if Bael knew enough to know he was twisting the knife, or if it was just a coincidence. Every time it looked like there might be some path for Sylvas other than violence, the Ardent intervened. The same had happened in Hell Week. They might have claimed that everyone was free to make their own decisions about their progression, but he increasingly suspected that freedom was only extended to people that the Ardent judged to be less important. It didn’t seem egotistical to believe in his own significance at this point, given that the whole Empyrean, and everyone else close enough to get the news, had been obsessing over him since his affinity came out.

Kaya jostled him out of his grim thoughts. “So you and Vaelith are going at it again?”

Choosing to overlook whatever double-entendre she was aiming for, Sylvas nodded. “Looks like it.”

Thwarted, she switched tact. “Think she’s going to kill you this time around?”

Sylvas couldn’t help but chuckle. “It is a distinct possibility.”

“Can I have your stuff when she does?” He turned to look at her, and the big sincere look of pleading that she’d plastered on her face.

“Kaya…” He just rolled with it. “You’re my best friend. Of course you can.”

She clapped her hands together and turned back to her dinner. “Sweet. Going to read all the filthiest smut in the universe on that eyepiece of yours when I’m meant to be in class.”

Sylvas chuckled and returned to picking at his own plate. The food was good, and he should have been starving after the day’s exertions but he just didn’t seem to have an appetite.

“She probably won’t kill you.” Kaya reminded him after a long pause. “Don’t reckon they’re allowed.”

“I’ve no doubt it will look like an accident.”

“Are we contemplating Vail’s inevitable death at the hands of Fal’Vaelith? Because I would like to place a bet on a first session decapitation.” Bael was probably joking, but with friends like these, Sylvas could never be entirely sure.

“Please don’t gamble on my death in front of me.”

“Yeah Bael, that’s gross.” Kaya nodded firmly. “Come find me after he’s gone and we can get you penciled into the death-tontine.”

“I am surrounded by the kindest friends anyone could ever hope for.”

“Oh, shut up.” Havran smirked. “You love getting your ass kicked around campus by Vaelith.”

“And you certainly see the benefit from all of the personal attention that the instructors are investing in you.” Veltrian had just plopped herself down at the table, and apparently felt no compunctions about saying what everyone else was only thinking.

“I’m very grateful for the help that I get.” Sylvas replied, almost automatically.

“Yeah, sure. Bet we’d all be grateful too, if it was offered to us. Bet we’d all be a big deal.” The fiend was glowering down at her dinner, which didn’t seem fair, since the beef hadn’t done anything to her.

“Do you want to swap?” It was better if Sylvas put this kind of backbiting to bed now before it could grow into something more dangerous. “Do you want to spend all day, every day, being beaten down, over and over and over.”

Vel’s eyes reflected the flames of the fireplace when she looked up at him. “Maybe they’re hoping you take the hint and stay down.”

Before he could say anything, Kaya snapped back. “Maybe they’d give you the attention you’re craving if you stood up for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Vel had stopped eating, which was a very bad sign to anyone that knew about the frankly ridiculous calorific intake that was required to keep a fiend’s body running.

Sylvas spoke over Kaya as she drew in a breath to start yelling. “I wouldn’t change anything. I’m getting the most benefit I can get out of being here. I’m getting stronger faster than I ever dreamed. And some of that is just blind luck. I didn’t choose to have a gravity affinity. As for the rest…”

Vel let her shoulders slump. “I know you’ve earned it. I know you’re strong. But we could be strong too. Stronger. If they just helped us the way they’re helping you.”

Kaya snorted. “Aye, he’s getting so much help. Did you sign up for the death tontine yet, by the way?”

The fiend couldn’t restrain a wicked grin. “Put me down for week two, mana burn.”

“Of course I succeed when I’m surrounded by my kind and supportive friends.” Sylvas grumbled to himself.

If Sylvas had hoped that he might find some solitude to turn his attention back to his new field of research when dinner was over and he mad a successful tactical withdrawal to his chambers, he was in for an unpleasant surprise. His slate was abuzz with messages. The first was from Malachai, hastily scribed in the time between the end of his own classes and his meal time. 

“Sylvas Vail,

It is with delight that I can report that at last we might test ourselves against one another in battle without unwanted influence upon the outcome. No special circumstances. No shards. Nothing but your power and skill pitched against mine. I cannot wait until the day that this Crucible comes to its end and we face one another in the arena. I will be the first among the Whitehall, as you shall be first among the Blackhall, and our clash shall be a legendary sight to behold.

Yours,

Malachai”

Sylvas stared at the message for a little while, trying to formulate some sort of rational response. He wasn’t sure that there was a rational response to the other man’s obsessive desire to fight him. When they’d first met, he had been certain that Malachai was out to kill him, but by the end of their conflict on the Citadel the truth became far more apparent and concerning. Malachai was obsessed with his own advancement and power in the way that few truly were. He considered becoming stronger to be not only his duty as one of the Ardent, but as his true calling. And having surpassed the limitations of his peers, he was now looking around desperately for some new challenge that he might test himself against.

He personified the way that the Ardent tried to drive on their trainees through competition, and to him at least, Sylvas represented the first real challenge that he’d encountered in a long time. Someone who had an affinity as rare and powerful as his own. Someone who was just as driven to succeed and grow. Sylvas wasn’t sure how he felt about being the focus of such attention, but it did definitely give him some incentive to advance quickly. Not because he cared about being the best of their year, as Sylvas had abandoned that pursuit after seeing his rankings tanked when the Instructors were trying to emotionally manipulate him, but because despite everything, Malachai’s enthusiasm for their competition was infectious. Sylvas had gone unchallenged by his peers for almost as long as the death mage, and having someone to race against for the first time in his life was proving to be oddly invigorating. 

“Dear Malachai,

I shall endeavor to make it to the end of the tournament so that we might finally clarify the balance of power between us. Kindly do the same as I would be most disappointed to face anyone else.

Out of curiosity, have you started personal training with one of your instructors yet? It seems that most of the Blackhall students have not. Also, on that subject, have you been assigned an instructor for your training, or were you given the freedom to select and request one?

Kind regards,

Sylvas”

It was as close to an emotional outburst as Sylvas had ever managed to commit to writing, this admission that he was looking forward to their competition. He had found that Malachai couldn’t handle Sylvas being self-effacing in conversation, so did so as often as possible now to keep the other man on the back foot. And of course, he’d snuck in a request for information that the death mage would almost certainly try to avoid answering in case it gave away anything about his training or plans for the Crucible. Still, at least Sylvas had tried to get more information.

The next message had arrived sometime about midday, and was considerably more intriguing. It was from Professor Kalisdrothan of the Veilbohr Institute.

“My dear boy,

In the midst of all the ruckus upon Citadel Onslaught, I fear that I provided you with insufficient praise for your recovery of the materials that were returned to me. I’ve had time to peruse them more thoroughly and in great detail, a fact that that was helped by the Ardent cutting short their typical review procedure of recovered artifacts, and found the journal to be nothing short of a godsend in allowing us to move forward in a timely and accurate manner. To say nothing of maintaining our funding for the whole endeavor. With the information that we have recovered from the journals we have been able to compose a more accurate timeline of the downfall and extinction of Strife than ever before in the entire history of the planet’s study. While the broad strokes of the history seem to reflect what we already ascertained from study of the various exposed sites on world, we now have a clear picture as to what we believe happened.”

From what Sylvas had managed to glean from the sparse records that the Ardent made available to them, there had been no primary sources recovered from the planet when it was discovered by the Empyrean. No documents, no books, nothing. The catastrophic destruction that had been wrought on the surface of the planet had destroyed practically everything, with only the largest and most solid of structures surviving whatever had occurred. Furnishings and décor were gone. Technology mostly molten slag. As for the libraries of this world, if they had ever existed, they were long gone now. There had been some hypotheses passed around for a while that the natives of Strife didn’t have a written language, or that they communicated exclusively through telepathy, but with the discovery of the diaries, things had changed.

Interest in the relic world was booming with this new discovery, the language was being relentlessly analyzed for any hints that the natives of Strife had made contact with other species throughout their history, or if they might be some offshoot of another known progenitor race. For the first time since the Ardent laid claim to it, there was an actual desire among academics to visit, and a mounting frustration that they were almost instantly blocked from doing so by the Ardent. So far as Sylvas had been able to tell, the only organization outside of the Ardent themselves that were being allowed access to the world where the Veilbohr Institute, and that mostly seemed to be because Kalisdrothan was a savvy player of the political game, and had held the information retrieved from the Mournhold as hostage until he was guaranteed the access that he wanted. It hadn’t been viewed as terribly professional, but there could be no denying that it was effective.

“Exact dates currently escape us, as we do not have any comparative materials from the world to work from, but there is, nonetheless a case to be made for all of the events now being placed in time relative to one another, and the precise time that those events happened to unfold being markedly less important than that comparative positioning.”

“To whit; it seems that at an uncertain date open warfare broke out between some ideologically opposed groups on the planetary surface, with the net result of one faction attempting to summon eidolon reinforcements to ensure that their side was successful. To a certain interpretation, they were indeed successful in eliminating all of those they held to be enemies. However this left them entirely alone with these newly engorged Eidolons. It was at this point in proceedings that ideology was left behind entirely and survival became the exclusive goal of all living beings on Strife. In the face of this existential crisis, the various remaining factions managed to unify into a single cohesive force, setting aside all of their differences. One might consider it to be quite a noble undertaking, showing their better nature coming to the fore, but once one has passed the threshold of summoning extra-dimensional entities to slaughter one’s neighbors, I believe that the moral high ground may be permanently lost.”

Sylvas found himself smiling as he read it. Hearing the elf’s imperious tone of voice in his head as he went. Everything in the Ardent was brusque and to the point. Reading through Kalisdrothan’s rambling was a breath of fresh air. 

“Ceding the vast majority of their territory to the eidolons, there was a tactical withdrawal from the population centers to more defensible locations, military fortifications and the citadels in orbit. The Citadels in particular served as a tactical command to help the various forces work harmoniously without danger of being overrun, while the planet side defenses were under considerable and constant strain, leading to repeated withdrawals and regroupings and the ceding of more territory. The natives were on the back-foot. They had never dealt with this sort of incursion before. The number of higher circle mages available to them was negligible. They had no sort of tactical expertise that could be brought to bear. I believe that it is important to bear in mind that they truly believed themselves to be alone in the universe. Their world was all they had, all they knew, there are indicators of some exploration of the solar system and beyond but they had no contact with the greater universe, they did not know that help might be available to them. They believed truly and firmly that if they could not reclaim their planet, then they faced extinction. Withdrawal to the Citadels simply wasn’t an option as they were already above capacity. This led them to what many might consider to be questionable decisions.”

The downside of the more flamboyant method of communication was, of course, that Kalisdrothan seemed to be entirely incapable of getting to the point.

“Once more factions formed among the surviving resistance, but their points of division at this point differed greatly from whatever original issues they may have had with each other, and instead turned to more practical and immediate matters, and the age old conflict between borrowing from the future to pay for the present, or borrowing from the present to pay for some distant future that one might never see. In the case of our soon-to-be-lich who wrote these diaries we see a member of the former camp, who believed quite firmly that the creation of the undead would provide the kind of counterbalance required to turn the tide against the Eidolon menace, while others were of the opinion that this was simply replacing one crisis with another, and others still simply felt that the resources being squandered to empower such rituals would have been better placed in other projects. As the diaries are from the perspective of one of the pro-undeath faction leaders, there is understandably little information regarding whatever alternatives were being proposed.” 

While this was all fascinating, it didn’t tell Sylvas much more than he’d already been able to piece together for himself, and he could feel his interest waning even as the letter continued. 

“Unfortunately, it cannot be ascertained at present whether the plan to unleash an undead horde of all those that the eidolons had slaughtered against them was carried out, as the diary entries cease at about the time that such a plan would have gone into effect, presumably with the death of the author. Though given that he was returned in a revenant form when the Mournhold was taken by the Ardent, it seems somewhat presumptuous to assume that death would have been sufficient to halt his diligent notation. One must assume that other factors intervened.”

He had found his way, over the course of his reading, from the desk in his room to the bed. He lay there, using the eye-slate that was usually feeding him a steady flow of information regardless of what he was doing, to continue with the letter, even as he could feel sleep starting to tug at him. Some of the others stayed up late into the night, playing games of chance and chattering about their day, Kaya would have enjoyed doing the same, if she weren’t having to work so hard to stay ahead of the course of study, but with the week that Sylvas had ahead of him, the idea of a long rest in preparation seemed to be the most sensible.

What luck that he had the letter to ease him off into sleep.

“With this newfound knowledge of the events preceding the ultimate extinction of the native population has also come a dearth of information with regards to those positions on the planetary surface that they deemed to be both the most defensible and resilient in the face of the Eidolon onslaught, and more importantly those that they felt would be catastrophic to lose. It is to this latter category that we have turned our interest. They may represent important sites relating to the heritage of the people of Strife, repositories of information, or even the location of whatever magic allowed the world to be rendered inert rather than dead. With such a discovery, similar protections might be brought into place to defend other inhabited worlds when they are overrun, opening up the possibility for evacuation and return to become viable options in the face of an incursion. So you see, for all that I made light of my suggestion that you might prefer to retire from the Ardent to work with the Veilbohr Institute’s archaeological team, the suggestion may not have been so entirely without merit as you first presumed. While our work may not offer up the opportunity for vengeance, it is advancements in our field that might prevent events like the destruction of your homeworld from ever occurring again. Prevention that I am certain you will agree is far more important than any amount of direct intervention.”

That last bit drew him back from the edge of sleep with a startle. Sylvas didn’t advertise his origins. At first because Kaya had suggested that they might face discrimination from the Empyrean born recruits, but later because he was secretive about almost everything, given the way that every scrap of information could be used against him. Which meant that if Kalisdrothan knew about the fall of Croesia, either the information was more widely available than Sylvas knew, or Bael had shared more than was comfortable with his cousin. Sylvas didn’t want to provoke any sort of conflict with his friend, and elves were notoriously touchy about this sort of social maneuvering. If Sylvas confronted him, then it could only lead into a spiral of recriminations about not trusting his cousin, or some pointed comments showing Sylvas just how easily his whole personal history was available to people who actually knew how to use the systems available to the Empyrean’s citizens. The best thing would be to stay quiet about it.

Sylvas skimmed through the rest of the letter, which would probably have qualified as a short book in other circumstances. The Veilbohr Institute had secured their permission to come down to the surface, pending selection of the site, and they had managed to narrow their options down to only three locations. Once the choice was made, Sylvas and his team would be signed off from regular duty to babysit the visiting academics until their work was done, or at least until the location where they planned to work had sufficient protections dug in that there was no danger of the wild eidolons of Strife sweeping through and eating them all in the night. Sylvas had been hoping for a return to normalcy after the tournament, but it was looking increasingly like they’d be going straight from one trial to the next. Though judging by how few eidolons there seemed to be still roaming Strife, perhaps this could be considered more of a holiday. An opportunity to explore the alternate career path that Kalisdrothan was proposing. Not that he had any intention of leaving the Ardent, certainly not at the moment, or perhaps ever.