Victor of Tucson-12.10 Small Interactions

Victor of Tucson-12.10 Small Interactions

10 – Small Interactions
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Victor asked, tilting his head as he measured Arona’s facial expression.
She nodded reassuringly. “I will await the second and third legions and deliver your full instructions to Lesh and Bryn. I…” She paused, glancing to the left, the slightest hint of nervousness entering her bright, crystalline eyes.
“Go on. What is it? You’re having second thoughts about Sojourn?”
She hurriedly looked back at him, locking his eyes with hers. “No! I will not slink away from that challenge. It’s your home on Fanwath—I enjoy a visit, of course, but I think having me there helps you to find excuses not to properly connect with your loved ones. It’s too easy to draw me into conversations about the war or mantles or my experiments with spell design. Meanwhile, I get long looks from Efanie as she tries to discuss…
other
matters.”
“Efanie
likes
you! She told me—”
Arona snorted. “It’s not just her! Your governor always feels shorted when it comes to your attention. There’s Thayla and Tellen and, most importantly, the
girls
! I always feel out of place. I’m not good at
relaxing
, and none of my things are there. The ambient Energy isn’t dense enough to continue many of my experiments, and—”
Victor held up his hands, palms out, laughing softly. “I give up! It’s fine. We can meet when I’m finishing up in Coloss.” He hadn’t misspoken; after he spent some time on Fanwath, he intended to deliver Deyni and Dalla to Coloss, where they’d earn a bit of education communing with the Degh Ancestor Stone and helping out with that effort. He also intended to make good on his promise to give the Warlord’s citadel a proper ransacking.
Arona gave him a quick nod—more a jerk of the chin down and up, really—then gestured to the notes she’d been taking. “We’ll begin the excavation immediately, and the legion’s Elementalists will begin preparing the site for the new citadel. As always, any recovered wealth will be distributed using the Legion rules, with your portion primarily being transported to Ruhn through the gateway. As for artifacts and other unusual treasures, I’ll instruct them to save anything of note for you to inspect.”
Victor rubbed his chin, looking out over the parapet toward the immense corpse of the World Tree. “I’m hoping there are some vaults underground that weren’t destroyed. I would think an ancient being from my homeworld might have some things I might be interested in. If there are antiques—furniture and art—use them in the new citadel.” He’d already gone over his expectations for the
scale
of the structure; Victor wanted the legion to build something monumental. Even so, he reiterated, “I want this to be a stronghold. Our gateway to the central continent will be here, and I want it to be unassailable.”
Arona gently rapped her knuckles on the table, her face serious, as usual. “We’ll put everything we have into it.”
“I know. I’m glad I’ve got you here to direct the efforts. I mean, at the start.”
She looked up, and her lips quirked into a small, brief smile. “Meanwhile, you should go rest and try not to spend too much time playing with your mantle. Give some attention to your loved ones.”
“Oh, I will!” Victor sighed happily and pressed his hands into his hips, rotating his back as he stretched. “I’m sure I’ll find some time to mess around with my magic
and
my mantle. You know I can’t sit idle for weeks at a time. My mind will go mad.”
“Just don’t shirk your duties with those girls.”
Victor sucked his teeth, smiling wryly at her. “Not a chance. Now,” he said, summoning the components for his teleportation array, “I’ll go ahead and travel up north to my palace”—he’d long ago stopped referring to it as Fausto’s palace—“and then through the gateway.”
###
Victor felt light. It was a figurative way to describe the sensation, but he thought it was appropriate. He was—unburdened. If he were honest with himself, he couldn’t exactly explain
why
he felt that way. He still had several extremely weighty matters on his mind: his mantle, Xelhuan, his schemes against the Sojourn council to put the Ridonne in their place, and, not least of all, the matter of the girls and their…
shenanigans
. He laughed at the word. “Corny,” he muttered, trying to imagine where he’d ever heard it.
“Did you say something, milord?”
Victor looked at Kris, trying to remember if the man had been his first recruit on Dark Ember. He was fairly sure that he had been. Now, the former thrall was the governor of his first conquered lands, and the man responsible for maintaining the garrison that guarded the portal to Ruhn. “Just mumbling to myself, Kris. Anyway, things look good here.” Victor gestured to the huge archway that Florent had built more than four years prior. “I’m going to pass through. Anything else you need from me? It’ll be awhile before I’m back.”
“No, sir. The matter with the training dungeon was the only thing on my agenda. I appreciate your guidance.” There had been a bit of a squabble between units at the training academy Victor’s captains had set up back at Brighton. The academy was designed to be competitive by nature, with three different soldier “houses” vying for points throughout each training “season.” Apparently, the various houses had been sabotaging each other a little too enthusiastically when it came to accessing the dungeon up in the hills.
“Just make sure the squad that created the quagmire outside the dungeon entrance has to fix the damage by hand. I stand by what I said earlier, though—I don’t think further punishment is warranted. We want our soldiers to think outside the box.”
“As you say, milord. I agree wholeheartedly.”
Victor chuckled. Kris had certainly adapted to his role as a minor noble over the years. “Good enough.”
He stepped up to the gateway arch and pressed his hand to the activation plate. After a few moments, he felt the rush of Energy, heard the snap of air being displaced, and, with a
whoosh
, the crackling, void-attuned portal ripped open a hole in the universe. Victor looked around the amphitheater where the portal sat, his spine straightening involuntarily as he took in the ranks of soldiers—five hundred, all above tier seven, commanded by a steel seeker at all times.
In the distance, standing atop the highest tier of the amphitheater, the captain of that shift of guardians nodded to him. His name was Bravit Corallian, and his shiny, silvery helm, adorned with a brilliant, feathery blue plume, danced with the motion. Victor returned the nod and even offered a quick wave, then he said, “See you soon, Kris,” and stepped through the portal.
When his foot set down, he was standing in the portal hall at Iron Mountain, and a cry went out immediately, “Lord Victor, Duke of Iron Mountain!” Following the call of the Duty Captain, a hundred fists slammed against chests, and boots clicked on the marble floor. Of course, they’d seen the portal open and had prepared accordingly, but Victor was still impressed by the quick response. He looked at the assembled guardian force—always on duty, just like the one back on Dark Ember—and returned the salute, endeavoring to make eye contact with many of the soldiers as he held the position for several seconds.
These soldiers were also high-tier, and he knew there would be five or six steel seekers among them—the children of nobles on rotation from serving in the legions back on Dark Ember. Over the years, the noble houses of Ruhn had gradually embraced the idea that their children could gain valuable wartime experience by participating in his conquest. Arona kept a list, and the last time she’d gone over it with him, she’d said something like eighty percent of the Great Houses owed him a favor or two for babysitting their troublesome scions.
Victor turned to the exit, contemplated spending some time at Iron Mountain, and thought better of it; he had plenty on his plate. The last thing he wanted was for Kynna to get hold of him and rope him into a state dinner or public assembly. He motioned for the captain to approach; it was a woman he didn’t recognize, sadly—someone Bryn had promoted on one of her leaves from the war. She marched forward and slammed a fist against her chest. “Your Grace!”
“I’ve pressing business on other worlds. Let Lord Haveshi know I passed through and that I’ll be checking my Farscribe books, as usual.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. sightings.
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Victor smiled, for the first time recognizing how young the woman was. She looked like a teenager, and not because of the timeless, near-immortal nature of a powerful Energy user. He couldn’t see her hair under her polished helm, but her pale blonde eyebrows over her dark opalescent eyes were striking. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Rasha Dar, Your Grace!”
Victor’s eyes widened. “Dar?”
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Victor chuckled at her enthusiasm, but when he saw her eyebrows quiver, no doubt mortified that he was laughing at her, he smoothed out his expression and nodded. “How are you related to the Empress?”
“Milord, we’re distant cousins; our great-grandparents were siblings.”
Victor nodded, stroking his chin. “Very good. And did the Empress station you here?”
Her facial expression didn’t change as she replied, “No, milord, I sought service at Iron Mountain when I witnessed your duel against Trinnie Ro.”
The name brought images and memories rushing back to Victor. Trinnie Ro had been a hell of a talented fighter. He stood there for a minute, reliving the battle and the feelings he’d experienced prior to the fight. He’d made the mistake of learning too much about Trinnie Ro and struggled with the guilt of having to kill her.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. Did I upset you?”
Victor blinked and refocused on the young woman’s face. “No. Just remembering things. Captain already, hmm? I guess I’m lucky to have you in my service. Did Commander Bryn promote you?”
“Yes, milord, just last year.”
“Well, I’m glad we met. Keep up the good work.” With that, Victor walked over to the gateway arch that would take him to Fanwath, and he heard the captain perform an about-face and march herself back into line. He stood before the arch, but found his mind wandering down the strange roads that often opened up when he interacted with people who struck a particular nerve in him.
That captain, Rasha Dar, was a cousin to the Empress of an entire world. Of course, Kynna hadn’t been Empress back when Rasha signed up at Iron Mountain, but it made him wonder what kind of life she’d been leading before then. Kynna didn’t get along well with her cousins—people who would be a generation or two older than Rasha—so her relation didn’t necessarily mean she’d been pampered. In fact, House Dar had been struggling mightily before Victor came to Ruhn.
He turned to regard her standing in line again, thinking to himself that she looked about the age he’d been when those
pendejos
had summoned him to Fanwath. How old had she been when she signed up at Iron Mountain to serve in the guard? Fifteen? And here she was, a captain and, if his inner eye weren’t deceiving him, nearly a steel seeker. Shaking his head, he turned back to the portal. She
had
to be older than she looked.
He pressed his hand to the activation plate, and as the portal snapped into existence, he contemplated his earlier musing. He’d gotten distracted thinking about Rasha’s age. The important thing—what had really gotten his mind wandering—was the idea that he’d profoundly impacted that girl’s life, and he’d never met her. How many others were like that? How many soldiers, or adventurers, or students of the spirit had heard his tales and been inspired in one way or another?
He stared into the void of the gateway, and another thought came to him: how many
hated
him? How many were inspired to violence? Victor thought of himself as “good,” and he tried to do what he thought was right, but there had to be some scions of fallen champions, at least, who would love to mete out some vengeance if they ever got the chance. He wasn’t worried, of course, but he didn’t like to think that he’d driven some young man or woman down a road like that.
When he blinked and refocused on the crackling portal, he realized he had no idea how long he’d been standing there; it might have been five minutes or an hour. He looked over his shoulder at the ranks of soldiers standing at attention and, rather than leave them wondering what was wrong with their lord, he reached into his spirit space and drew forth a heavy bag of Energy beads.
Holding it aloft, he said, “Captain Dar, I’d like to fund a banquet for your soldiers there. I’ll leave you in charge of arranging things.”
As he set the bag down, Rasha slammed her fist to her chest in another salute, and the company thunderously followed suit. Victor saluted again, then turned and walked through the portal.
When he stepped into the much smaller portal hall at his estate on Fanwath, Victor was immediately aware of a dangerous presence behind him. He turned, smiling, and said, “Sora Deval. How goes your lonely duty?” After speaking to Rasha Dar and contemplating her youth, it was an interesting contrast to see Sora’s ageless, Fae-blooded face as she separated from the darker shadows of the hall and beamed a smile his way.
“Victor! A nice surprise! You should know I’m not lonely, though; Drobna’s here, too, but I think he’s out on the beach warming his shell.”
Sometime into his second year of conquest on Dark Ember, Sora, a young woman he’d nearly killed while under the influence of his Aspect of Terror, had come to Dark Ember, seeking to join his army. She was one of twenty steel seekers whom he employed as guardians of his home. They worked on weekly rotations in pairs. When they weren’t on duty, they’d return to Dark Ember, where they served in a high-rank cohort.
Whenever Victor saw Sora, he remembered the connection they’d shared when, as his first lesson as Ranish Dar’s student, the Spirit Master instructed him to cleanse her spirit of the lingering curse of terror. “It’s really nice to see you.”
“It’s been too long!” She made a pout. “That big lizard is not very fun! Why can’t I join your army?”
“I hope he never hears you call him that!”
“Pardon me,” Sora said, folding her arms. “Of course I mean
Lord Commander Lesh
.”
Victor clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Anyway, you’ll be glad to know the armies are gathering for the next phase of the conquest.”
“Oh?”
Victor nodded. “Dragomir is no more.”
“The Great Master? Was he as strong as the locals claimed—a true veil walker?”
Victor tilted his head and hummed in contemplation. “He was strong. Much stronger than the minor lords we’ve vanquished so far.”
“That’s incredible!” She stepped a little closer, looking at him with big eyes that told him she was just as eager as ever to make their relationship into something more. She’d been like that since he’d first cleaned her spirit, and the truth of the matter was that Victor wasn’t so sure he hadn’t had some kind of
influence
on her when he’d done that. It made him wonder if her feelings were truly natural, though he supposed if they weren’t, they’d have faded over time. It didn’t matter in any case; Victor’s heart had enough hooks in it.
“Well, thanks.” He shrugged. “I’m happy things are moving along nicely, but it’ll some time before we advance to the next continent. There’ll be some downtime, but I know Lesh and the other commanders will have work for you. You should probably go and check in.”
Her pout returned. “But I’ve got house duty for another four days!”
Victor pretended not to notice her disappointment, nodding to the portal. “You can head back early if you want. Or, heck, go to Sojourn and have a few days to yourself. I’ll keep my house safe until the next shift starts.”
“
Victor
, why can’t I just vacation
here
?”
“Oh, um…” Victor reached up to run a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly stupid. He hadn’t thought through a proper objection. “I guess if you want to.” As her smile returned, bigger than before, he hastily added, “I’m going to be very busy with the girls… and meeting with local lords, and—”
“Not to worry! I know how to entertain myself. Even so, I hope there’ll be time for us to have a meal together. Wouldn’t that be nice? I have a hilarious story about Drobna and Dovalion.”
“Really?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “But you’re not getting it out of me unless we’re sitting down for a nice meal!”
Victor looked longingly at the door.
“So? What do you say?”
He relented. “Yeah, okay. I won’t promise we’ll be alone, though. I have a lot of obligations here.”
“That’s fine! I just want to spend a little time with you.”
He nodded, waved, and said, “See you around.”
“Definitely!”
Victor made his way toward the house, pausing to speak with a gardener who nearly fainted at his approach. As always, when he visited Fanwath, he’d reduced his size considerably and walked around at a mere seven feet tall. Even so, he towered over the poor man and felt so bad that he reduced himself a bit more.
He made it only about halfway through the garden before he felt another presence behind a nearby hedgerow. Grinning, he squatted down and crept toward the corner. Then, as the presence started to fade—clearly his quarry was working on her aura shielding—another presence popped into his awareness, this one streaking toward him out of the sky. Victor stood and spun, and barely had time to catch a dog-sized, bright blue drake out of the air.
It hissed and mauled his thumb—or pretended to. Pakrit, Deyni’s juvenile spire drake, knew Victor well and wouldn’t really bite him. He lifted the creature high, admiring its sky-blue scales and broad, leathery wings. “You’ve grown a foot!” Naturally, Victor felt Deyni approaching, but he still acted surprised when she leaped onto his back.
“Gotcha!” she growled.
Victor laughed, reached over his shoulder, and yanked on her belt, tugging her up and over his shoulder, catching her around the waist, and squeezing her tight while he kissed the top of her head. “Who’s got
whom
?”
“Victor!” she squealed, kicking her feet until he let her go. “I’m too old to be manhandled like that!” she said, furiously brushing her clothes off and trying to straighten her shirt that had come untucked from her pants.
“Hey! You jumped on
me
!”
She looked at him, her big magenta eyes softening as she watched him cradle Pakrit. “Fair enough.”
“Your little scout here saw me arrive?” Victor tickled the drake’s lower jaw, right behind where his top fangs hung down.
“Yep! He sensed you the second you stepped out of the portal.”
“Oh, yeah?” Victor arched an eyebrow, looking into the drake’s pale, ice-like irises. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”
As Pakrit trilled, Deyni stepped closer and grabbed his wrist. “Want to run a dungeon with us while you’re here?”
Victor laughed. “Du won’t let me in his dungeon.”
“He won’t? But—”
“
Besides
,” Victor said, interrupting her. “We’ve got big things to talk about. You might be done with that dungeon for a while.”
“Seriously? Did
Efanie
write to you? My
mom
?”
As she whined, Victor felt two other Cores approaching—their strength similar to Deyni’s. “Your much
slower
friends are almost here. Let’s wait and sit down together to talk.” He glanced up at the sky, squinting toward the sun. “Looks like it’s about lunchtime anyway—”
“I already ate—”
“That’s fine. You could use some more muscle.”
“Rude!” She squeezed his arm. “And what did you mean about the dungeon?”
“
Patience
,” Victor said with a chuckle. “I only want to have to give this speech once.”

12.10 Small Interactions