Low-Fantasy Occultist

The outer wards were a shifting labyrinth of fire and violence. Nick kept the [Mire] tightly woven around the group, guiding Gaelen—who carried the frail, unconscious form of the old retainer over his shoulder—and Rhea through smoke-choked alleys.

They bypassed two major skirmishes between the Black Hounds, some other mercenaries, and the city watch, watching from the shadows as armored men hacked at each other with desperate fury. Several times, Nick observed signs of a King's Shadow moving through the periphery of a clash. A subtle distortion in the air, followed by the sudden, inexplicable death of a mercenary captain, which immediately reignited a stalled battle.

The Crown's men were working tirelessly, ensuring no truce lasted longer than a few minutes. It was enough for him to wonder whether the King had ordered Toneburg destroyed, but if that had been the case, there would have been no need for such subtlety.

More likely than not, they are also trying to learn what is really going on here. Or they have some other plan that still eludes me.

Plots within plots were being hatched and dismissed every hour. Whoever came out on top would do so mostly by luck, as too many great powers had interests in the city for something not to go wrong.

By the time they reached the dilapidated warehouse and descended into the cellar, the distant roar sounded like the breathing of a wounded beast. Gaelen threw the heavy iron bolts shut, sealing them in the dark.

Rhea immediately cracked a fresh alchemical stick and directed Gaelen to lay the old man on a flat wooden crate.

"His mana pathways are deeply scarred," she murmured, pressing her hands to the old man's chest. “It seems that they kept him in a suppression field for years. It’s enough to crush the soul and shatter the mind, yet he survived it all.”

She pulled a series of dark vials from her kit. Working quickly, she mixed a restorative brew that smelled strongly of pine and bitter licorice, carefully tipping the liquid past the old man's cracked lips.

It was in moments like these that Nick realized just how much knowledge Ogden had passed along to her. He might have been able to cobble something together to achieve a similar effect, but that was mostly because of his spiritual senses. She had none of those, yet could still identify such maladies.

She’s likely been working on a cure for Gaelen since she first saw his condition. This is just downstream of that.

Fortunately, although the old man was severely damaged, there was no active corruption festering within him, so her alchemy could fully affect him.

For a long moment, the cellar was silent except for their breathing. Then a gasp echoed, and rheumy eyes snapped open.

The man thrashed weakly, seized by panic as he tried to scramble backward. "No! I told you, I know nothing! The oaths hold!”

"Raul, peace," Rhea said softly, catching his frail hands and holding them gently. She leaned closer, letting the dim blue light illuminate her disguised features, only to realize her face meant nothing. She whispered a few words in a guttural language Nick didn't recognize, but the old man froze in recognition, so it must have been something the Elpens had developed.

Raul stared at her, his breathing hitching. He slowly turned his head toward Gaelen, who had lowered his hood, and spoke another phrase.

“Little Rhea?" he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. “Master Gaelen? The... the heirs live?”

"We are here, Raul," Gaelen said, his voice thick with emotion as he knelt beside the crate. "We were always going to come back.”

Tears spilled from the old retainer's eyes, tracing the deep lines on his face. He reached out with trembling hands, touching Gaelen's cheek as if to confirm he wasn't a hallucination caused by the suppression runes. He was clearly confused by their appearance, but the words had been enough to convince him.

"They told me you were dead," Raul wept, clutching Gaelen's sleeve. "Ephor paraded the heads of the household through the streets. I thought the line was broken. I thought…"

“Grandmother got us out, and we survived," Rhea promised, gently wiping the tears from his face. "You are safe now.”

Raul's expression suddenly crumpled as a fresh wave of grief washed over him. "My grandson... Aris. He sold himself to them. He traded his honor for coin and comfort.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Observing his presence in the ether, Nick could see that Raul could only think of the gentle boy he’d raised, and whenever his mind wandered to the creature he’d become, he rejected the memory as too painful to bear.

"Aris is dead," Gaelen said, his tone flat but not unkind. "He chose his path, Raul. We did what we had to do.”

Raul closed his eyes, a heavy, shuddering sigh escaping his lips. "I know. The boy was craven, afraid of his own shadow. It was the only way. I mourn the child I held, but the man he became deserved his fate.”

Nick approached slowly, the soft sound of his boots drawing attention. The old manager's eyes narrowed, taking in the disguised, rough-hewn features, while his mind sensed more. Even suppressed as he was, Raul could feel something about Nick that told him he wasn’t normal, that he was more.

"This is Nick, a friend of our family,” Gaelen introduced, ignoring the mildly surprised look he shot him. "He is the reason we are alive and the reason we were able to bring you here.”

Raul tried to sit up and offered a respectful nod. "Then I owe you a debt that cannot be repaid, my lord.”

"Tell me why you are alive, Raul," Nick asked, getting straight to the point. "Ephor Ultimer eradicated the rest of House Elpen. He slaughtered the retainers and seized the estate. Why keep you locked in a suppression room?”

Raul coughed, accepting a waterskin from Rhea before settling back against the crate.

"Because Ephor might have taken the estate and won the battle, but he failed to take what he truly wanted," Raul explained with a bitter, triumphant smile. “More than primacy among the northern houses, he sought the Elpen Forge. It is the greatest artifact the House ever produced, capable of binding higher concepts into physical form. Ephor is a Prestige Artificer, yet even he cannot replicate its power.”

"The Forge is still intact?" Rhea breathed, her eyes widening in shock. "We thought it was broken. Grandmother said it would never fall into their hands.”

“Indeed, to this day, they cannot touch it," Raul said proudly. "When the estate fell, Lady Rosmaria knew what Ephor sought. Before she escaped Toneburg, she smothered the Forge’s flames, using her own power to lock it down.”

Nick blinked, processing the new information. He’d known the siblings’ grandmother was a Prestige artificer in her own right, but to craft a ward capable of holding Ephor Ultimer for a decade, even with a demon’s aid…

I now see why she didn’t take her own revenge. She must have bound her soul to it. That would hold as long as she lives, but the price must have robbed her of much of her power.

"They kept me alive because I was the chief manager of the Elpen business," Raul continued, his voice growing raspy. "Ephor believed I held a way through. He subjected me to every kind of interrogation. Mind-breakers, truth serums, pain... but I could tell them nothing. My secrets are bound by oaths taken upon my very soul. If I try to speak to them as an enemy, my heart shall stop, and with it, any hope they had.”

"So Ephor has the estate, but he is locked out of the real prize," Nick deduced. And Alexander needs a tremendous amount of materials and mana to power his ritual, something that only such an artifact could contain.

But they were still doing something there, which meant they believed they had a way to use it. More likely than not, that was why Ephor had welcomed the Circle into Toneburg, even knowing the chaos it would cause. If he’d tried and failed for a decade, he might have become desperate enough to resort to those madmen.

"Exactly," Raul nodded. "They cannot use the Elpen Forge, so they have been building a replacement. His Chief Apprentice, Nestor, is said to be constructing it from null-glass and cold iron in the upper subterranean levels. They told me as much themselves, to try and break me.”

Possible, but not likely. Not that I expected Raul to have accurate information. Maybe both are true at the same time, though. Ephor doesn’t strike me as the kind to put all his eggs in one basket, so he might be preparing in case Alexander fails or betrays him.

He said none of that for now. He would inform the others of his suspicions once Raul was back asleep, and they would adjust their plans, but for now, he could let them talk.

"We need to get in there," Gaelen said determinedly. "The Forge must be secured, and we have to stop whatever Nestor is doing.”

"Breaking into the estate is suicide," Raul warned, grabbing Gaelen's arm. "Ephor has fortified it beyond reason. He has mighty enforcers at the main gates, and the inner courtyard is patrolled by Nestor's homunculi, built to kill anything they see. You cannot fight your way through.”

"We don't intend to," Nick replied calmly, though he was already thinking about the experience such kills could bring him. “Our plan is to walk through the front door. We know Nestor is receiving constant shipments, so we must simply disguise ourselves and follow through.”

Raul’s eyes brightened with sudden understanding. "The supply convoys. Yes. Nestor is ruthless about his schedules. A convoy arrives at the end of every week, exactly three hours after dawn. Even amid the chaos tearing the city apart, he will not delay the shipment, though I expect the guard to double.”

"Tell me everything you know about this convoy,” Nick demanded.

For the next hour, Raul provided a wealth of intelligence. He detailed the staging grounds the Ultimer quartermasters used in the industrial sector, described the sigils burned on the sides of the wagons, the kind of draft horses used, and the route they took through the noble district to reach the Elpen gates.

It was almost surprising that he knew so much, but after a decade of torture, it was unlikely the Ultimers still considered him a threat. That he’d been allowed to live in his grandson’s house, if only under lock and key, showed that much, and Nick couldn’t sense any malice or falsehood in his soul.

People always talk too much around those they believe are powerless.

More importantly, he gave them the names and abilities of Toneburg’s strongest remaining players. He warned them about Varg’s berserker rage, the Silver Falcon’s defensive formations, and Nestor’s advances in homunculus creation.

As Raul spoke, the sounds of battle still echoed faintly through the stone ceiling. Nick could feel the vibrations from distant explosions—likely another brief truce shattering under the invisible blade of a King's Shadow.

“If the riots haven’t changed anything, the convoy will move in half a day," Nick murmured, pulling the makeshift map of the city toward him. He traced a line from the industrial sector to the Elpen estate. “For now, the fighting is concentrated in the eastern and southern wards. The route cuts through the merchant district, which is a no-man’s-land."

“We should intercept them there," Gaelen agreed, tracing the same path. "In the fog of war, no one will notice a brief skirmish over a supply wagon, especially if we ensure some of the fighting spills over nearby.”

"We could take the wagon, get rid of the guards, and take their tabards," Nick hummed. "Rhea's disguises should hold up against whatever alchemical detection they have. By driving the supplies, we will be able to enter without suspicion.”

The plan still had many kinks to work out, chief among them how to replace the guards without being noticed by the others. Raul’s weary eyes told him just how much danger they were walking into, but this was their best shot at learning what was really going on in Toneburg.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!