Chapter Vb - Into the Battlefield

"Amiable and high-spirited," answers the Earl's man.

"Friendly, but dignified," adds the King's man.

"Intelligent. Decisive. Inspires confidence."

"But a sickly fellow. I never took him as the soldiering type."

"His mother urged him to seize the throne. Many years ago the throne used to belong to her brother, the Earl's uncle."

"Yet the Earl's father was a loyal subject of the King. Died in that fiery crater, opposing his son."

This seems like an extraordinary point, but neither man seems to make much of it. They both seem to accept it.

"The Earl had new ideas."

"He didn't want to depend as much on fish and shellfish."

"He wanted to domesticate the sheep and goats that live in the mountains."

"For the meat as well as the wool."

Both men seem to think that this is a somewhat radical notion. Neither of them openly question it, but Drace can tell that the thought makes them raise their eyebrows. To them it's a more radical concept than a father opposing his own son's bid for the throne, on the battlefield no less.

<<Late Afternoon - Day 23 - Early Spring - Tower - Wilderness>>

Late in the afternoon, Drace and Draern finally see the castle. It is in the foothills of the mountains. Behind the castle there is a sheer cliff that leaps up hundreds and hundreds of feet. The cliff has a sharp, jagged top that is intensely steep. It is clear that it protects the rear of the castle, making an approach from that direction impossible.

(Draern's keen eye, combined with his outdoors experience, thinks that the cliff wall looks unusual, in the sense of being not entirely natural. He suspects that it may have been subject to terraforming in the distant past.)

The castle itself is a splendid thing. It is clear that it is the product of many skilled craftspeople who took pride in their work. The walls are thick and strong, the towers are tall, and the stones are so clean that they practically gleam.

Riders who raced ahead alerted the residents to your arrival. Various dignitaries stand outside, waiting for you. They wear fine clothes, and each of them has a red sash worn over their shoulders. It seems to signify a person of importance. They are all very obsequious. The castle gates are wide open, and on the other side you see a throng of towns folk waiting. They line each side of the street, presumably to see their new sovereign(s).

Then, a curious thing happens. As Drace and Draern cross the threshold into the castle, they get a funny feeling. The air and the wind change immediately, almost like you stepped into a cave even though you are very clearly outdoors. There's a heavy feeling that presses down on your shoulders. It almost feels like the air is thicker, denser than usual.

Drace feels tired, hungry, and thirst, as if his tireless vigor had expired. Draern feels his connection with Rima fade, until it is just a candle in the distance. His senses are dulled to those of a mortal man's. It would be too strong to call it a sickening feeling, but it is unnerving.

The crowd of peasants and craftspeople watch you closely as your procession advances, presumably toward a palace or a keep of some sort.

Draern shies away from the threshold at first, but being aware of all the eyes on him, pushes himself forward. He feels numb and... alone. The smells, sounds and subtle vibrations he usually senses are gone. It's like he is underwater. Involuntarily he gasps for air. What is this? Some evil magic?. He turns around to see where Rima is. Leave from here, it is not good for you. he tries to tell her, but no response. With a desperate look he turns to Drace and whispers "What is this, I can't breath. This is an unnatural place. Do you feel it too?"

" Yes. This place likely dampens certain abilities. Cithrel and Omirius will have to be informed. Stay calm. We will take a tour of the outside of the keep shortly, and get our bearings without making a scene." Drace looks out into the crowd, impassive as ever, trying gauge whether they are expecting them to react to the sensation.

Draern and Drace proceed through town.

The crowd is... peaceful? Mostly they seem to be standing at attention politely. They don't cheer, but they don't boo either. Perhaps there is a little concern among their faces, or even anxiety, but the predominant reaction seems to be curiosity.

Draern feels like he has something in his ear. He can hear, but not hear. He's used to picking up on whispering, coins jangling in pockets, the clink of shoes on cobblestones. In this case there is almost nothing. He looks around to see if people are talking amongst themselves, but for the most part the answer is no. You seem to have their full attention.

You wind your way through the town that's surrounded by the castle's outer walls. It seems to be a prosperous place. The people generally look well-fed. Drace does not detect signs of the pox, or malnutrition. Their facial skin is clean and clear, from what you can see. Their eyes are bright and don't suggest any jaundice or vitamin deficiencies.

Things are relatively clean. Many of the buildings are made of stone. There's little moss or lichen on the stones, suggesting that they are occasionally scrubbed. The buildlings made of wood are hewn out of huge logs and are elaborately carved. In those cases it looks like the owners have made a conscious decision to use wood.

The castle backs up against a sheer cliff that leaps up hundreds and hundreds of feet. The cliff has a sharp, jagged top that is intensely steep. It is clear that it protects the rear of the castle, making an approach from that direction impossible. In front of this cliff is a either a palace or a fortified keep, or perhaps both. The keep is taller than the surrounding buildings and has strong battlements up top. There are tall double-doors carved out of heavy wood that lead into it. There is a royal red carpet that runs out the open doors and down the front steps to greet you.

Draern drags himself through the streets, mostly for the others sake than his own. He barely picks up anything of his surroundings, for one part due his dampened senses, for the other part to the sheer amount of concentration everything costs him now.
His head and shoulders bowed forward he more stumbles than walks, just following the feet in front of him. "How much further, Drace? When can we leave?"
He knows his way around a battle and around soldiers. But this social protocol is foreign to him, thus he relies on his friends guidance.

Drace makes a point of taking in the ornate wood carvings when they come across them. He asks about the choice of wood as opposed to stone, and the meanings - if any - of the carvings. When they arrive before the massive doors, he pauses and looks them over. This is as much as out interest given the other wooden structures, as it is to have an opportunity to gather his thoughts. It did not look like Draern could put up with much more of this dreary little burg, and he is ready to admit that he would also rather be back where the gnaw of hunger and the drag of fatigue were a choice rather than an obligation.

"I will indicate our intention to leave now," he begins, leaning in to speak quietly. "This place wears on you. Apologies for not taking note sooner."

Drace signals to the most senior staff who have accompanied them, and just as he had promised Draerngromlaes, declares that they will be leaving to await the arrival of their fellow counselor, the Court Scholar, and the Emperor.

"Come now, Draern. It would be unseemly for the Emperor to arrive before us."

Draern sees that the wooden doors of the palace have subtle scenes carved into them. A closer look shows that the carvings are of tall trees and taller mountains. In short, an accurate representation of the local landscape, but nothing that would indicate any sort of narrative. There are no people in the carvings, so it doesn't seem like the can represent any sort of creation myth or story of conquest or any other history of these people.

"Do you not wish to see the throne room?" one of the counselors asks, confused.

"It is just through that doorway," adds the other counselor.

"We do so hope that it will be satisfactory to the Emperor," continues the first.

"And we would value your estimation of his esteemed opinion," bows the second.

But Drace's explanation that it would be unseemly to enter in advance of the Emperor seems to override any further objections. They bow lowly.

"We will endeavor to learn the Emperor's way of doing things," says the first, remorsefully.

"And conform to them the best that we are able," says the second, almost apologetically.

Drace and Draern ride out of the town. The crowd hasn't even had time to be dismissed yet. They look shocked and surprised to see you leaving so soon.

<<Evening - Day 23 - Early Spring - Tower - Wilderness>>

Dinner is brought out to Draern and Drace, the cornerstone of which is smoked fish. The meal also consists of nuts and dried berries. There's also some sort of root vegetable involved in the medley. It is not the rich food of kings and queens but it is tasty and far better than what most adventurers enjoy in the field.

At sunset, Cithrel repositions the Tower without difficulty. During the Tower's descent, Cithrel can detect a protective bubble that envelops the castle and makes it impossible to land inside the castle walls.

The doors of the Tower burst open and the undead horses take up their positions as guardians on each side of the doorway.

As soon as Draern leaves the area of the castle his senses come back and almost overwhelm him for a moment. He stands up straight, takes a deep breath and takes in the smells, along with the sounds of his surroundings. Smoke, the fires for dinner are burning. There is the faint smell of cow dung from some fields outside of the village. And then the familiar, comforting smell of the soil, the trees and Rima.
"It is good." , he nods. Rima is quickly back by his side and he kneels next to her, scratching the large wolf behind its ear. "Good girl. We're out of the evil place."

As the meal is served, Draern is back to his old self. Never been very cheerful, but at least not complaining. He helps himself to several large portions.

When the tower lands, he gets up quickly and walks over. He finds Cithrel and tells them about the castle and its effects. "The place is cursed. We must leave quickly!"

Drace eats the meal with gusto; he could not remember the last time that he had seasoned a meal with hunger, and it truly was a superlative spice. He notes with satisfaction Draern's return to his usual demeanor. The small, cowed man that he was inside the keep was discomfiting, and he had found himself missing the bombast of the esteemed "General" - not that Drace would ever say as much.

He is not as quick to get into the castle and only hears the tail-end of what is said. "There is not enough data to confirm a curse, only that there is a phenomenon that affected us both, and would likely do so to Omirius and to yourself. I do, however have a concern for our safety within the keep absent the full breadth of the Emperor's powers"

Drace falls silent and waits. Would the scholar want to have first hand experience of the phenomenon? Was there something that they, along with Omirius could do to stop it? He has many questions but little subject matter expertise, and in such a situation, he has found that he is often better served by silence.

Cithrel had spent the day quietly reading in the Tower's library. A peaceful break necessary to prepare themselves for the undoubtedly trying time that was waiting for them at the Castle.

The elf smiles at their companions as they are reunited at the Tower's entrance, but the smile falters at Draern's warning and insistence on leaving immediately. "We can't, we just landed..." they start saying before Drace provides further elaboration. They listen intently and their smile returns as they grow excited about the mystery.

"What phenomenon? How were you affected?" they ask excitedly as they turn their gaze to the protective dome surrounding the castle, trying to discern its effect with their Sense Magic Art.

"I experienced hunger and thirst," he says flatly, adding, "Involuntarily."  

Cithrel's enthusiasm is concerning but he again favors silence and waiting. Should the scholar demonstrate that their intelligence far outstrips their good sense, he would intervene. In the meantime, his focus is on not getting swept up in their curiosity. Draerngromlaes might not survive it.

Cithrel is no fool. Between their magical senses and the descriptions provided by Draern and Drace, it would seem that the bubble suppresses magical activity within its confines.

Such would be the product of a Great Magical Working, in the parlance. One would presume that this would interest Cithrel greatly, but - to Drace's point - everyone would be uncommonly vulnerable while affected by it.

Cithrel observes the curvature of the dome, then takes out their survey tools, a piece parchment and their writing implements. They start taking measurements and drawing the Great Working, trying to figure out its exact size and where in the castle (if there) its center would be. "If something is manifesting it, rather than it simply being a field, it stands to reason it would be around its edge or at its center," they explain to their companions as they work.

"How was it inside? Did you hear any sort of rumbling noise? Were there areas that the locals were reluctant to let you see?"

Once they're done with their calculation, they look at their companions and smile. "Alright, we should rule out an external manifester before risking another entry."

If it looks like the bubble continues to expand underground, they requisition some laborers and shovels to start digging at the edge of bubble until they reach the point where its circumference grows smaller.

If it looks like the point perpendicular to the ground is already visible, they search along the edge for anything (runes, machinery, carvings) that could be creating the bubble.

Throughout the whole exercise, their excitement is palpable and they blather on their theories to anyone willing (or feeling obliged) to listen.

Cithrel requisitions diggers. The town is full of miners - or retired miners, as active miners would actually be in the mines - who have strong backs and the tools for the job.

The bubble extends just a few feet beyond the outer wall of the castle, and aligns more-or-less with the defensive ditch that surrounds the walls. Therefore Cithrel concludes that the walls of the castle do not support the bubble.

Cithrel thus orders the diggers to dig in the middle of the already-existing ditch. They do so without question, assuming that the ditch is not sufficiently deep for their new overlords. As they work, Cithrel can see that the bubble always touches the ground. The diggers can never create a gap underneath it. After quite a lot of digging, the bubble begins to curve inward at a rate that suggests that the bottom half is symmetrical with the top half. This, combined with the fact that the bubble seems independent of the walls, suggests that the origin of the Great Magical Working is in the center of the bubble. It would trivial for a surveyor like Cithrel to determine that position.

Drace and Draern did not hear any sort of rumbling inside, nor feel any vibrations. The locals did not seem to hide anything from them explicitly, although their parade was conducted on a predetermined route. (Although one could simply say that route was simply the most efficient path to the palace.)

There doesn't seem to be anything stopping Cithrel from investigating it themselves, other than the effects of the dampening field on the elf's own powers and abilities.

"Well, looks like the answer is in there." Tentatively, Cithrel puts a hand in the bubble and waits to see what the effect is. If it's not too bad, they step in and wait some more, stepping out at the first sign of trouble.

The diggers look on with curiosity while Cithrel thrusts a hand into the bubble, then steps in and out a few times.

Moving a hand inside produces no meaningful effect. Things are more pronounced when Cithrel steps their whole body inside.

Cithrel feels like they stepped into a cave, or a tomb lined with lead. The air feels thicker. It's not, of course, but there's a discernable impression of being cut off from the world.

Perhaps strangest of all, Cithrel can no longer sense magic. From the outside, the bubble is as bright and obvious as a phosphorescent sea. But from the inside, it is invisible. The bubble wall is just the width of a thumb. There is a point where Cithrel can stand and have one eye on the inside seeing nothing and one eye on the outside seeing the bubble right in front of Cithrel's nose.

After watching Cithrel for a time, Drace's curiosity far outpaces his lukewarm  if not dispassionate appreciation of most things. "So?" He is not sure whether he is looking for validation, clarity, or something else from the scholar.  The entire situation is so far beyond anything that he had trained for, and surely having lived multiple lives will have given them some kind of insight. Right?

"It's not going to kill me, so I say we go in and look for the center point. This is a mystery that's worth unraveling!" Cithrel says enthusiastically. "Shall we?" they ask, motioning to the castle. They were willing to go in by themselves, but having their companions watch their backs seemed a wiser proposition.

Draern is clearly conflicted. Going into the dome is something he would like to avoid at almost all costs, but he vowed to himself to protect his companions. "I will come with you, but we must proceed with haste and caution. The sensation in there most discomforting. Maybe we find the source of the spell and can nullify it."

Draern's willingness to return comes as a surprise to Drace, who had not expected the huntsman to be particularly amenable to the idea.  He looks at the man in silence for a time and posits that having knowledge of foresight might be bolstering him.

"Let's," he says with a shrug. Before they head back in, he makes sure to mention that they will have to specify that they had spoken to the "Emperor" and that they had his blessing to proceed.

"Actually, we should tell Omirius before heading in." He is not particularly keen to find out how disgusting de-animated horses could be.

Omirius looks politely curious at your report. "Let me know if you desire my presence," he says, although he stays at his desk and doesn't look inclined to move. He seems to be having some trouble overcoming a long-time habit of being a shut-in. Either that or he's concerned about Mr. Vackle collapsing into a heap if either of them enter the bubble.

As a trained surveyor, it is trivially easy for Cithrel to identify the center of the bubble. Indeed, there is a curious tower of stone located there. It is taller than the surrounding buildings, but not taller than the outer castle walls. The only thing unusual about it is that it lacks windows; it is otherwise unadorned. There is a strong door at it's base, which is locked but unguarded.

You indicate you desire to go inside.

"It is forbidden to enter the Spire," one advisor says, bowing apologetically.

The other advisor jabs him in the ribs with his elbow. "It was forbidden," the second advisor corrects the first.

"Yes, yes, of course, my apologies, Your Graces," the first says with another bow. "The old habits of an old man."

"We will retrieve the key at once."

This actually takes some time, as the key is not commonly needed and thus not readily available.

After an uncomfortable wait - which causes Draern to pant as if out-of-breath - the key is produced and the door is unlocked. The heavy door swings open. Inside there are bare walls. There's nothing to see other than a spiral staircase leading to the top of the Spire.

You enter; your retinue bow and stay outside, citing ancient tradition. You haul yourselves up the stairs. (Drace, accustomed to his tireless vigor, becomes winded for the first time in a long time.) At the top of the stairs, there is a chamber.

Inside the chamber is a beautiful Working. It takes the form of a cube about a half-meter on each side that seems to float above a pedestal in the center of the chamber. The cube is made out of a smooth, dark metal but it has cracks and fractures in it. However, these cracks seem to be intentional and part of the design rather than the product of age or wear and tear. Inside the cube is a deep, enchanting purple glow that infuses the whole chamber. The cube rotates and spins slowly; the effect is hypnotizing, mesmerizing. In addition to being a Great Working, it is also a remarkable work of art.

The Working seems to be in fine health, both by appearance and also by its continued effect on you. Cithrel knows that unlike a conventional magical item, a Working cannot be moved from its set location, and, unlike a spell, it will normally persist until damage or thaumic decay finally disperse it. The Working in front of you is the product of a fine, accomplished magician. It is beyond Cithrel's capabilities, although presumably it is within the realm of Omirius' power and experience.

Almost unnoticed due to the beauty of the Working, the walls of the chamber are covered from top to bottom in an elaborate, geometric, arcane script. Under normal circumstances Cithrel would be able to magically understand it, but the Working's suppression of magic makes the script's meaning tragically outside of the elf's comprehension.

Cithrel studies the markings on the wall. After ten minutes the elf starts to have a sense of things. Cithrel's best guess is that it's some combination of history, instruction manual, and ode to the creator. But the form of it is curious, almost like poetry or verse, with a certain rhythmic and repetitious quality. Perhaps that makes sense, given that the Working itself is very much like a work of art itself.

There's one set of symbols that's repeated so frequently - ꙨꙩꙪꙫꙮ꙰꙱Ꝍꝍ - that Cithrel is convinced that it either represents the name of the creator or the name of the Working itself. Naturally, the translation of this has been lost to time.

Cithrel feels like a lifetime of study - or perhaps just a decade or two - might decipher this. Of course, at that point it would be quicker to destroy the Working in order to read the script and then recreate the Working based off these instructions. Making a copy of the inscription and removing it from the field of the Working would not be sufficient; Cithrel's ability to translate is dependent on the writer's understanding of the script. Since you have no understanding of it, the copy would have no meaning to translate. More elaborately, it's conceivable that dismantling the Spire's walls and removing the stones with the inscriptions from the castle might allow Cithrel to translate the symbols, but such a brute-force approach might have negative ramifications for the Working itself.

Since Draern knew what was coming this time, it felt a little easier going into the bubble. Still it draerns him. When they reach the working he stares at it in awe. "This is the source of it all? What if we destroy it, will everything be normal again?" then in a sudden moment of realisation he adds, "But what if it holds some other magic back or at bay? When we destroy this thing, whatever lies beyond will be released, no?"

Cithrel mumbles to themselves as they examine the Working and the script on the walls. "It's definitely the source of the magic nullification bubble. Destroying it would remove the effect, but without knowing why it was built in the first place..."

Despite the limited use of it, Cithrel transcribes as much of the writing as possible. "Omirius might recognize some of it. Otherwise, perhaps the Tower's library has a tome that'd help... We should leave it as is until we know more. I think the script might contain instructions of some kind, but destroying a unique creation such as this just to read it would be a crime."

The inscription covers the walls in the room at the top of the Spire. It would take a great quantity of paper, ink, and time to transcribe it all. Cithrel is confident that paper and ink could be acquired, but patience and time are in shorter supply.

The elf fills a single page to take to Omirius. It is a painstaking process, as every character is unfamiliar and must be transcribed one-by-one. It's not like a language where you can read a word or a sentence and then write it down from your short-term memory before repeating the process. One character at a time, Cithrel fills the page.

Then it's down the Spire, out of town, then up the Tower to the top where Cithrel shows it to Omirius.

"Yes?" he asks politely.

Do you recognize it?

"Yes!" he says brightly.

Do you know what it says?

"No."

He goes through his library and finds a dusty tome that's on the bottom of a neglected shelf. He pulls it out, blows the dust off, then opens it. Turning, he hands it to Cithrel who sees that the entire book is written in this language!

Free of the limitations of the Working, Cithrel has no trouble reading the book, which is an immensely dull history with occasional asides (that are rather more interesting) about animal husbandry, crop rotation, and tips about washing ink stains out of linen shirts.

So, Cithrel has a codex of sorts. It would be a laborious process to find every "word" of the Spire's inscription somewhere within this dreadfully dry tome. It is conceivable that Cithrel would learn this language somewhere along the way, but even that process would take weeks or months. Translating the inscription is within the realm of possibility, but it would require a significant commitment to do so.

Cithrel brings their companions up to speed on their findings regarding the strange Working. "Until we know more, I don't think it would be wise to tinker with it, which leaves us with a problem: the castle is unusable for us. It leaves us handicapped and vulnerable. Draern, I know you had... ambitions... for this kingdom, but seeing as we can't use the seat of government..."

"Maybe the Earl had his own castle? We could relocate there? I would like to keep studying the Working, which means keeping access to it, but until I translate these markings, I don't think I need to see it again." They sigh. "We could also just leave. I don't have much interest in state-building, but we'd be leaving a big mess behind us, which... doesn't sit right with me."

"A seneschal and council would provide stability in our absence." Drace is not keen on statecraft but an unacknowledged touch of avarice with regards to power prevents him from letting go of the kingdom just yet.

<<Days 24 to 52 - Mid-Spring - Tower - Wilderness>>

Four weeks go by.

Drace and Draern wish to tour the new land. Cithrel faces competing interests in mapping the territory their satisfaction vs. translating the runes that describe the Working.

The Working - and the Spire that contains it - are of some reverence to the local population. They don't exactly worship it, but they have a deep respect for it to the point of caution. The scholars of the kingdom agree (i.e. can be ordered) to help translate the runes, but none of them wish to step foot inside the Spire. Evidently it had been sealed for generations prior to your arrival.

So Cithrel needs to inscribe the runes from the Spire themselves, then bring them out to get the scholar's help in translating them. Then there's the limitation that there is only a single book with the script in question, and only Cithrel can read it. So then Cithrel must translate Omirius' book so that the scholars can begin to cross-reference the runes from the Working with the runes from the book. The process is somewhat sped along by the use of 2 to 3 scribes who take dictation from Cithrel's translation. It's a painstaking and painful process.

~

Cithrel does not have the endurance to do this all day every day, so the work is diversified with mapping. This is facilitated by the movements of the Tower, which allow you to skip from place-to-place around the kingdom. Drace and Draern venture forth during the day to examine the countryside and question the locals; Cithrel emerges when they need a break.

It's clear that the locals are deeply impressed with the Tower. Seeing the Tower appear and disappear creates a sense of respect that borders on the obsequious. You face little resistance when your Tower appears out of nowhere and later vanishes into dusk.

The kingdom faces the ocean to the west and the north, and steep mountains to the east. There is a river that marks the southern border. Before, they had told you that the kingdom was perhaps 20 miles wide (from ocean to mountains), perhaps 80 miles tall (from river to ocean). Upon review, these numbers are a bit fluid. There is no firm border in the mountains, as they are a natural barrier and few if any people live within their jagged peaks. The kingdom could extend further east and nobody would really object, but nor would it be a great benefit. There are villages to the south, including a floating fishing village just off the coast that stories say is protected by a huge sea monster, but they seem to be of little interest.

Why?

"They are not us," one of the guides shrugs.

"We have what we need," the other agrees.

Indeed, the kingdom does seem to have a great wealth of natural resources. Fishing communities along the coast provide a bounty of seafood. There are berries and game in the thick, dense forests on the western edge of the mountains. The forests provide ample wood for any need, and the mountains provide both stone and metals sufficient for any reasonable purpose.

Drace and Draern discover rivalries between the regions, but they are modest as such things go. The fisherfolk know that the miners would starve without them, but they don't seem keen to exploit that. The forest folk know that the fisherfolk need their wood for boats and houses, but don't hold it over them. The miners know that their metal is needed for tools to chop trees and process fish, but there's no question of withholding it.

What is notable, especially to Cithrel, is that there is no magic throughout the kingdom. There are no healers nor spellcasters nor any other sort to bend reality. As such, your magical gifts - including the Tower - are met with great awe. Stories of Omirius' brimstone have also been brought home by the soldiers who witnessed it, much to the shock of all those who were not there.

~

At the end of four weeks, the Book of Runes is about half-translated. This is enough for the scholars to begin work on translating the Runes of the Spire. Scholars cycle through so that progress continues both day and night. The Working itself is only one-quarter translated at best, although Cithrel knows that the pace will improve as the scholars get more practice and become more familiar with the most common runes. Cithrel's initial impressions seem correct: that the runes are a combination of a history of the Working, a manual for maintaining it, and an ode to its creator. The language is either some sort of poetry or very high prose. It must be lovely for those that can understand it, but it does slow down comprehension by adding extra layers of nuance and understanding.