Victor of Tucson-12.29 A Proposal

Victor of Tucson-12.29 A Proposal

29 – A Proposal
Victor felt his Core swell with the Energy he drew from the spirit—Vesavo, he reminded himself. He was the Abyssal Tyrant, but he was still
Victor
. It was perhaps the most significant change in the Epic-tier spell—that ability to remain in control. He could feel Lifedrinker’s pull on Vesavo, draining his Energy, all the while, Victor’s terrible Core Domain of fear, his awful Dread Imperative, and his Tyrant’s grip drove the Death Caster to greater and greater heights of despair, torment, and terror.
Victor had been feasting a while; the pressure in his Core, already mounting before the battle, was verging on something painful—the pressure of a volcano, a hurricane, something beyond mortal understanding. Still, it didn’t break through; the legendary-tier cliff was steep, and whatever heights awaited beyond ever elusive.
Vesavo fought, though his attempts were feeble. Fear paralyzed his greater reasoning capabilities; his spells were down to instincts, and Lifedrinker robbed them of any great efficacy. Physically, he was less than helpless before Victor’s terrible form, and so, after a time, he simply…
expired
. No great fanfare awaited his demise, though Victor immediately felt a thread of spirit Energy burst into being, upon which Vesavo’s spirit attempted to flee.
Victor snatched hold of his spirit, and with another talon, he severed the thread. Then, with a tremendous effort of will, he forced his Abyssal Tyrant to sleep. The talon that grasped Vesavo’s wispy, Energy-starved spirit faded in a cloud of shadows, revealing a powerful, gauntleted grip. Not just anyone could hold on to a spirit, but Victor was a Spirit Master; his body was infused with the Energy of his Spirit Core, and such matters were trivial—second-nature, even.
As more shadows bled away from him and the world of nightmares returned to one blasted by earthquakes and magmatic eruptions, Lifedrinker reformed in Victor’s free hand, vibrating with contentment; she’d drunk her fill. Victor pulled the spirit close, peering into Vesavo’s ghostly face. He shifted his grip to his scrawny neck, gripping tightly as he stared into the horror-filled eyes. “Funny that you maintain that guise in death. I’d bet you had a truly terrible alter-ego on the spirit plane when you were alive.”
The spirit opened its mouth, but no voice was forthcoming; Vesavo was utterly helpless. Every drop of Energy had been drained from him; all he could hope for was that the enchantments he’d placed upon his spirit, combined with those on his phylactery, would draw him home. Even as Victor contemplated it, another thread of spirit Energy flared to life, attempting to tug on the spirit. Victor scowled, grabbed the thread, and tore it to bits.
“How many phylacteries did you make, you old
pendejo
?”
Again, the spirit’s face—a youthful, powerless version of Vesavo—attempted to wail or shout or scream, but no sound came forth.
“I should pull you apart. I should make this the last life you live. If not for me, then for what you did to Arona—what you did to the
worlds
you conquered.” Another thread of Energy appeared in the air, attached to the spirit, and
tugged.
Victor tore it apart. “I won’t do that, however. You’re not going to remember this life in your next one; your command of the spirit is too feeble. You focused everything you had on making yourself immortal in this life. Now, I’m going to send you into the next one without any Energy. I stripped your spirit down to
nothing
. I hope your next life brings you a taste of humility.”
With that, Victor ripped a hole in the veil, revealing the spirit plane, and then he pushed Vesavo’s spirit through. He felt the currents of that realm drag him, howling noiselessly, away. Vesavo was too weak to travel that plane on his own; he’d be drawn through veils into purgatory realms, until, eventually, he’d find a way into life again. Victor watched him whisked through the twilight realm until he was well beyond the reach of any further phylacteries that the crafty old Death Caster might have stashed away.
Grunting with satisfaction, he closed the rip in the veil and stood. He had only a few seconds to survey the battle-torn landscape before a portal rippled into existence before him. Victor didn’t hesitate, ready to be done with this chapter, and stepped through. As soon as he emerged in the tiny box canyon atop the mountain, a flood of Energy poured into him, and the System awarded him with several messages:
***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 161. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 will, 20 vitality, 10 strength, 10 dexterity, 10 agility, and 10 intelligence. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality.***
***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 162. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 will, 20 vitality, 10 strength, 10 dexterity, 10 agility, and 10 intelligence. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality.***
***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 163. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 will, 20 vitality, 10 strength, 10 dexterity, 10 agility, and 10 intelligence. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality.***
***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 164. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 will, 20 vitality, 10 strength, 10 dexterity, 10 agility, and 10 intelligence. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality.***
As the euphoria faded and Victor settled back down to solid ground, he stared at the messages, comparing what they said to his status sheet. He laughed when he saw his total Energy had broken a million, never mind the fact that he could sense his Core was
this
close to shattering the ceiling of the legendary tier. Inhaling deeply, smiling with the pride of his accomplishments, he let his veil walker senses drift down the mountain, onto the stony plain.
He felt the Cores of hundreds of powerful beings, but he was looking for a few in particular. His smile spread, and the remnants of his tension faded away when he felt them: Cora, Arona, Tes, even Dar. They were there, and they were relaxed. There had been no mad, desperate attack by Vesavo’s loyalists when he fell. Even more, Lord Roil wasn’t there; Victor knew the feel of his Core well. Neither Tes nor Dar—nor Victor, for that matter—had much to fear from any other individuals down there, not unless they acted in concert, and there was little risk of that.
“Let’s finish this, then,” he said, descending the steps ten at a time with his titanic strides.
###
A few days later, after many celebrations followed by dozens of meetings with Dar and his allies, Victor once again found himself waiting to be admitted to the Assembly Hall, this time for a closed session. Dar, the highest-ranking member of the Assembly—not the Council—had called the meeting, something that usually occurred only twice annually. There were pressing matters to attend to, however: thanks to Vesavo’s demise, a vacancy on the council needed to be filled, and there was precedent for his rival, victorious in a lawful duel, to take his place in the Assembly.
Victor didn’t care if he was admitted into the Sojourn Assembly, but it would help with Dar’s schemes if he wielded a certain level of respect. He had a role left to play; hopefully, it wouldn’t involve any further slaughter. During his meetings with other assembly members—paving the way for what he and Dar hoped would be a successful vote—he’d felt the deference with which those people, whom he’d once looked up to with fear and awe, addressed him; nobody wanted to see if they’d fare better than Vesavo.
He was with Dar this time—no Arona or Tes with whom to while away the minutes. A closed session meant there wouldn’t be any spectators. He looked at his former teacher and gestured to the massive doors. “No consuls, right?”
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“That’s right. Serving on the Sojourn Council precludes any votes in the assembly.” Dar was the picture of calm, though it was always hard to gauge the man’s emotions, what with his stony flesh and ability to stand as still as a boulder. Still, Victor could see the schemes roiling around in his blazing eyes as he scanned the grand hall. Their allies were there, and their enemies, too, though most people stood apart, too leery of proclaiming allegiances in front of their peers.
The votes in the Assembly were anonymous, so despite suspicions of alliances, most Assembly members would attempt to maintain the appearance of neutrality. Victor, like Dar, tried to read expressions, but it was hard; these were old masters, long-time players of the game, and they were good at avoiding eye contact.
Before long, the doors opened, and the guard captain ushered them inside. There were no grand announcements this time, and most of the Assembly Hall was thrown into shadows—only the section reserved for the Assembly was lit up with Energy lamps. The Sojourn Assembly consisted of three hundred and twelve powerful and influential members, many of whom, like Dar, had served on the Council more than once. That said, there were five hundred seats in their section, so there wasn’t any worry about whether Victor should sit beside Dar.
The Assembly meeting was run quite differently from the public assembly with the Council present. There was no officiator; once everyone was seated, it was Dar, as the most respected member, who stood and approached the dais. Like the rest of the hall, the Assembly section was enchanted to reduce the noise of the crowd, so, even though some members continued to talk in hushed voices, Dar’s voice echoed clearly through the space.
“We are gathered here today to choose a consul to fill the vacancy left behind by Vesavo Bonewhisper.” He stared at the crowd, eyes smoldering, waiting to see if anyone would speak.
An avian with dappled gray and white feathers called out, “Why beat around the bush, Lord Dar? We all know you’ll put your name in the hat.”
“You’re welcome to vote for me, Lord Trallak, but that’s not my intent. In fact, before we vote on that matter, I think we should talk about my guest.” He gestured to Victor, and, as he’d been prepped to do, Victor stood. “I believe my former student has earned a place in this Assembly. He’s been an influential member of Sojourn society for years now, and, as you all well know, he slew Vesavo, a member and a sitting consul.”
On cue, one of Dar’s allies, a fae-blooded woman named Chiss Seluva, called out, “It’s tradition, is it not?”
Dar nodded. “There is precedent.”
“Being a proficient killer does not an Assembly member make!” someone shouted; Victor knew about a third of the Assembly members' names, and he didn’t recognize the voice.
Dar spoke to the entire Assembly as he responded to the objection, “Do you deny that he’s an influential citizen? Do you deny that he couldn’t open a school today and steal a good percentage of your students?” As the hum of murmurs grew louder, he continued, “Lord Victor is a man of great influence, one who has learned more in the last decade than most of us did in our first century. He’s a world-conqueror and the most potent Spirit Caster I’ve ever met. Excluding him from this collective would be folly, one we may come to regret if he’s forced to build alliances elsewhere.”
“A
threat
?” an avian voice shrieked.
Dar shrugged. “Only if you understand that the loss of talent threatens the long-term influence of our city.”
Another of Dar’s allies called out, “The case is well made—the young man is accomplished, he’s a citizen of this city, and he’s bested a sitting consul. It’s enough for a vote!”
“Yes! A vote!” yet another ally shouted.
Victor could feel the heat of their stares, the thrum of poorly contained auras. It was stressful being there among so many hostile veil walkers, the center of their attention, but not overly so. If Dar’s proposal won through, it would be icing on the cake, so to speak, but not necessary. Their greater plan could still succeed, even if Victor weren’t an Assembly member.
Dar raised his voice, and like boulders clacking over each other, his words ground out, silencing the chatter. “Do any object?” There were grumbles and murmurs, but no one could deny the call for a vote without cause—it was a rule of the Assembly. When no one dared to stand before the Spirit Master, Dar said, “Cast your votes!”
All the Assembly members, Dar included, tapped their position—aye or nay—on their official rings. When every vote had been cast, or perhaps after a specific amount of time—Victor wasn’t sure—a chime sounded, like a clear, crystal bell:
ding
. The audience erupted, some people clapping, and others grumbling their dissatisfaction, but, again, Dar’s voice silenced them. “Welcome, Lord Victor, to this illustrious order!”
This time, the celebrators overwhelmed the grumblers, and Victor lifted his arms, almost like he was in the pit, standing over a defeated foe. After a minute or two, the applause died out, and Dar said, “You may be seated, Lord Victor.”
Victor turned toward Dar and performed a perfectly respectful bow, then sat back down.
“What’s next? I’ve lunch plans!” a particularly loud, rainbow-feathered avian shouted. He was an ally of Dar’s, one who’d met with them at the lake house for breakfast two days prior.
Dar nodded. “The matter of the empty Council seat still lies before us, but before we take nominations and vote, there’s an important matter we need to address, one that the Council has been deadlocked on, one that threatens the peace—the very existence—of our fine city.”
Grumbles echoed around the hall, and one woman, tall and slender, with silver hair adorned with tatters of fiery-red silk, stood. “Lord Dar, the agenda was clear: a new consul and the vote on your protégé. It’s inappropriate to bring up another matter now, especially one that should be decided by the Council.”
Dar held up a hand—a request for patience—then, when the room was mostly quiet again, he said, “This matter is related to the empty Council seat. You see, I have a solution to the threat that only the Assembly, not the Council, can consider.”
“How’s that? The Council rules this city!” a yellow insectoid cried.
“Hear me out, please.” Again, Dar paused, and after a beat, he began the spiel that Victor had heard so many times in their private meetings with other Assembly members. “As you all know, it was discovered a few years back that the prisoners in the Iron Prison were not only surviving longer than anticipated, but were growing far more powerful than ought to be possible. Lady Rexa has worked to extract children—the result of a gross lack of foresight—from that place, but her efforts only scratch the surface of the problem. Thrice, members of the Council have brought forward a vote to close the Iron Prison. Thrice, those votes have failed. Why?”
Dozens of voices clamored to answer, but Dar spoke over them, his powerful voice unassailable. “Because the people of this city fear the repercussions if Ronkerz and his students were let loose. They fear their inability to contain those we’ve punished with hundreds of years of deprivation.”
“With good reason!” a booming voice roared. Victor looked to see a giant of a man with ebony skin, wearing jewel-studded ivory robes.
“Exactly!” Dar replied. “We have good reason to fear Ronkerz's wrath; however, the council only delays the inevitable. I call upon our newest member, Lord Victor Sandoval, to speak. He alone among us has spoken with Ronkerz. He alone knows his mind.”
Victor stood and, despite protestations, worked his way to the dais, mounting the steps to stand beside Ranish Dar.
“Go on,” Dar said, stepping to his left and turning to face him.
Victor looked around at the lords and ladies of Sojourn, gathering his thoughts. In a way, it was the most intimidating host he’d faced, but in another way, they were anything but intimidating. To him, they were like well-trained dogs, whereas Ronkerz and his Big Ones were wolves, and the vampire lords of Dark Ember were mountain cats. When he didn’t speak right away, the crowd grew more and more quiet until all the murmurs faded to silence. Nodding, he began with a statement aimed at waking them up: “Ronkerz is more powerful than any of the members of the Council.”
People shouted their disbelief, their devotion to Roil or Rexa. They cursed him for a fool. They hollered simple protestations like, “Impossible!” When Victor only stared, waiting for silence, though, they gradually complied, and eventually it was quiet again.
“I speak the truth. I’ve felt Ronkerz’s aura. I’ve felt his
strength,
his force of will, and his desire for bloody vengeance. He will soon break that dungeon, and when he does, he and his army will be deposited here on Sojourn. You won’t know when or exactly where, but he has a plan, and if he takes this city by surprise, fragmented by our ideologies, then we’ll all die or be driven away.” Victor let his body swell until he towered over Dar. He let some of his aura bleed out, pressing against the people in the first rows. “I won’t be killed. Ronkerz respects me. He respects Ranish Dar. I don’t know about the rest of you…”
As he trailed off, the audience erupted again. Victor knew he was betraying Ronkerz’s trust with that pronouncement, but he also knew that, in the end, what he was doing would aid the gigantic simian warrior. When people began to stand, faces inflamed, fists raised, shouting their questions over one another, Dar stepped forward and roared for silence. His voice was an irresistible force and, eventually, even the angriest of them returned to their seats.
“Lord Victor has more to say, including a solution.”
Victor nodded, pacing from one end of the dais to the other and then back to the center beside Dar. “Ronkerz is a philosopher at heart. He will not bend to authority, but he believes in justice. I propose that we give him a voice in this city; we give him and his people the chance to take part in shaping Sojourn's direction going forward. We can quell Ronkerz’s rage and his lust for vengeance with an offer. Take away his need for war—give him Vesavo’s Council seat.”

12.29 A Proposal