Chapter 171: Solfirus |
Like his brother and father, Solfirus sported ceremonial armor in his family’s colors, predominantly gray with accents of white and orange. He had dark-gray hair that fell beneath his shoulder blades, nearly as long as Vivi’s own. Unlike that of his kin, his build ran lean and lanky—for a dragon, at any rate. Still imposing by human standards.
He surveyed her calmly as she walked up, a half-raised glass of wine perched in long fingers. She had located him, alone, on the edge of the courtyard, seated at a small round table that could fit no more than four people.
“Can I join you?” she asked as she arrived.
“By all means, Vivisari.”
His cool voice carried a different brand of regal composure than the rest of the family’s. Serious and aloof. Reminds me of Lysander, a bit. A proper mage. She tended to do worse with those sorts.
She slid into the chair across from him, secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to strain her neck by looking up at him the whole time. Dragons really are way too tall.
A brief silence lingered, Solfirus offering nothing to dispel it. The quiet wasn’t unfriendly, but neither did he seem to be going out of his way to welcome her. Given that she only had a vague idea of his personality, she couldn’t draw any concrete conclusions about what that might mean. Could be from his innate detachment, or a dislike of her.
Her starting point was obvious in either case. “I should apologize.”
“Oh my. Whatever for?”
“I surmised.”
“No matter the circumstances, I attacked you while under your family’s hospitality. So, I’m sorry about that.”
Orange eyes studied her, inscrutable, one hand absently swirling the fine crystal glass. She felt a flash of sympathy for all the people who had to deal with her own lack of expressiveness. Like hers, Solfirus’s mask didn’t seem intentional, but automatic. A natural state of being.
Finally, he took a sip of wine and set the glass down. “I don’t mean to antagonize, Vivisari, but as a tendency, I dislike hollow apologies. Would you act differently, were you to arrive in the same scenario tomorrow?”
She hesitated. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Indeed. So it is an empty gesture. But I accept it for what it is.” He chuckled in good humor, which caught her off guard—she’d started to think this would be a hostile encounter. “Too, there is no need. You apologized long before this day.”
“…I did?”
“Pride is everything to a dragon. Tactless as it is to admit, more than failing my father, it was who I lost to that offered the most insult. Or rather what.”
She paused, then a small frown pulled at her lips. “You mean a group of mortals?”
“Yes.”
“Then I agree. That is tactless to say straight to my face.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “You have my apologies in turn, but it is the truth of my people. We are arrogant. We see ourselves as better than others. ‘Know your nature,’ my father told me as a hatchling, and though it took many years, I learned to.”
Her slight frown remained, but he at least seemed to be aware it was a failing of his. She chose to move past it. “How did I apologize earlier?”
“Even my father didn’t think you would emerge victorious against the Ashen Hierophant,” he answered plainly. “So when the news of that impossible outcome arrived, any lingering shame I carried was erased—and thus much of my bitterness. If that ancient creature fell to your party’s hand, even the proudest among my kind couldn’t blame me for a similar loss.” His tone turned dry. “And then you etched that point deeper still not a week ago, and in full view of our court. So yes. I hold no animosity toward you for prior events, Sorceress.”
She deliberated over her response. This wasn’t going exactly how she had expected, and Solfirus himself wasn't what she had anticipated, but she didn't dislike his bluntness, and she was pleased that he truly didn’t seem to harbor a grudge.
“I’m glad,” she finally said.
“I suspect I know why you approached, but there is no need to make assumptions. How may I aid you?” A hint of humor crept into his voice. “Or is this a social visit?”
She huffed. Apparently, even he knew her better than that. “I hope it’s not rude asking in the middle of a celebration, but I was wondering if we could discuss the void.”
“Not one for revelry?” Solfirus replied. “Neither am I. Nor could I join if I wanted to, as I am here as the First Prince, not a participant.” The corners of his lips turned up. His cool demeanor wasn’t as impenetrable as Vivi’s. “Too, I know better than most that our nobility can be trying.”
That’s part of it, but I’d be looking for an excuse to run away no matter whose nobility it was. She could maybe suffer through a party where she wasn’t the center of attention, but certainly not one where she was.
“Magic is more interesting than dancing,” she said.
He seemed to find that especially funny, laughing aloud. His mirth hadn’t settled even after he took another sip from his wine glass. “In that,” he told her, “we are of the same blood, Vivisari. Yes, my father has authorized me to discuss this ‘void energy’ of yours. He warned me that we would be doing so extensively tonight, so I came prepared.”
At least I’m not easy to predict, she thought sarcastically.
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Despite the self-mockery, she sat up straighter with intrigue. It hadn’t been a guarantee that Cinereus and his kin would share their knowledge. With Solfirus openly divulging their secrets, Vivi knew for a fact they would crack the first stage of the void enigma. She was already so close by her own efforts that chatting with any intelligent caster might have allowed for a breakthrough.
Vivi stood. “Excellent. In that case, I’ll be right back.” Questing her senses across the spatial abyss, she located the anchor that represented Meridian. Two [Greater Warps] and a [Blink] later—a round trip—she sat down again, not more than ten seconds having passed.
She laid a violet-and-black dagger onto the table. She would have carried it around in her inventory, but void energies didn’t play nice with the System. Not for her, anyway. Damon Caldimore had managed to force the activated voidglass to interface with the Red Tithe’s class somehow, but that was a mystery a layer deeper than the one she was trying to decipher.
“I haven’t found it especially useful as a research target,” she said, “but I'd be negligent not to let you take a look. It’s a good starting point. You might see something I didn’t, and besides that, context always helps.”
Solfirus studied the weapon, not wary but also not jumping at the opportunity. At last, he reached out and slid his fingers under the hilt. He lifted the item and inspected the blade’s length, turning it side to side as his molten lava eyes appraised the alien material.
“Though I don’t know how much context you already have,” she added. “Is this even new to you?”
“This, at least, is.”
The answer relieved her more than it disappointed, which was probably irresponsible. It would have been much better news for the world if the dragons had possessed all the answers she needed, ready-made.
Just unsatisfying, after hundreds of hours of research.
After a minute of study, he turned his other hand over and began layering dense magic around it. He made to press the dagger into his spell-coated palm but stopped a few inches before making contact. “Is this safe?”
That’s already more caution than I would’ve shown, she thought, mentally snorting.
“It cuts through all forces both natural and magical. But otherwise it’s just a dagger. Cutting your hand will be cutting your hand, not anything more.”
He pushed the blade down.
She wouldn't call the First Prince of the draconic kingdom a potential Cataclysm, but he was at least within swinging distance of that title. And that was an accolade very few beings in the world could claim.
Nevertheless, the dagger sliced through spellwork like a razor blade through silk. Even Vivi’s strongest defensive magics had barely stopped the artifact when the Red Tithe had thrown it at her, so Solfirus’s wards didn’t stand a chance.
Red sprang up across his palm, yet he didn’t flinch. The ancient immortal raised an eyebrow, pulled the weapon away, and cast a spell to knit his flesh together and clean away the blood.
“Interesting.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“You cannot circumvent the effect either?” he asked.
Vivi sensed no malice in the question, but she became aware of the fact that she had handed over a formidable weapon to one of the most powerful people alive. Who, for all that he had claimed to hold no grudge, she didn’t know well enough to confirm.
The Red Tithe wielding the voidglass dagger had been a minor threat at best. A problem mostly because of complicating factors. The blade in Solfirus’s hand was another matter altogether, and she hadn’t thought twice about passing it over to him.
Thankfully, it wasn’t some possibly suicidal lapse of judgment. She would have let Solfirus inspect the item even after having those thoughts. Just, she should have considered the risk beforehand, not afterward.
“I could, even the first time I was attacked by it,” she said. “Though it’s not easy. I’ve made a number of strides on how to build defenses against it. That’s how I’m sealing the breach above Prismarche. But I’m not looking for advice on how to force classical magic to interface with it. I want to harness the power itself.”
“Make another such weapon, you mean.”
“As one application to be gained from our understanding, perhaps.”
He stated the obvious. “This would be a very dangerous artifact to produce more of.”
“Of course. But I assume the quality of the material matters. The base for this one was taken from the Shattered Oracle’s workshop.” It was one of the few concrete facts they had about the item’s origin. “So I’m guessing it came from a very strong Greater Voidbeast, if not something even more powerful.” Like a voidgod. Though the heavens only know how he would have got his hands on one of those. “Neither of which are in high supply. The effect wouldn’t be this potent with regular crafting material, surely.”
“Supposition?”
“Almost everything I say tonight will be.”
He hummed. “Regardless, if you succeed, I would besparing in how many you create. And keep meticulous accounting of them.”
“I don’t think anyone wants weapons of this sort going missing,” she said flatly. She normally didn’t take offense at well-meaning advice, but Solfirus’s warning was common sense even by her standards. “Including me. Especially me.”
Properly used, voidglass might be able to cut through the barriers with which she defended people she cared about. Like Saffra.
Voice growing tight at the idea, she said firmly, “I’ll likely destroy them once it’s all over. I certainly don’t intend to share the creation process after I figure it out.”
Working with Solfirus was ideal in that regard, because he and his family already ruled their realm with an iron fist and could have destroyed the mortal world millennia ago. The secrets of voidglass wouldn’t change their capabilities much, realistically speaking.
Forcing herself to relax, she added, “The more we learn, anyway, the better we’ll get at countering it. So it won’t be as serious a threat forever.”
“How did you bypass the effect originally?”
She hesitated. “…inelegantly.”
“You overpowered it?”
“Yes.”
“I sensed no resistance from my own attempts. None at all.”
She awkwardly looked for a tactful way to respond. ‘Yes, you’re too weak’ wouldn’t go over well.
“It’s resilient.”
Someone like Aeris might have been amused, but Solfirus’s expression soured. Not quite as comfortable with his relative inferiority, then. He didn’t point the disgruntlement her way; it was focused inward, and he moved on after a moment.
“May I observe?” he asked, handing the weapon back.
“Observe what?”
“How it interacts with your spells.”
“Any in particular?”
“You decide.”
She granted the request. With some difficulty, she snagged the item with [Greater Telekinesis] and floated it in the air, then began summoning barriers and demonstrating how the blade sliced through them. She used both void-hardened variations and regular ones, not hiding the diagrams and going slowly so that Solfirus could glean whatever he could. Throughout, she remained silent. Better to let him draw his own conclusions, not pollute his potentially unique way of viewing the problem.
She was vaguely aware of drawing stares from other dragons, but as she’d hoped, sitting with Solfirus dissuaded any of them from approaching. They weren’t so eager to speak with the Sorceress that they would interrupt obvious business with the First Prince.
“I’ve always found it fascinating how mortals cast,” Solfirus said, somewhat abruptly. “In my youth, I considered it offensive that they stole what was ours by birthright. As if magic coming naturally made us more deserving of it.”
“You no longer think that?”
“Mastery is all that matters. Or perhaps results. What difference is there if a wound is inflicted by claw or sword, or a life is saved by scale or armor?”
“Not everyone shares that view, I assume.”
“It takes a long time to overcome one’s nature,” he said in answer. A faint, self-deprecating smirk crossed his features. “For me, longer than most. That is enough, thank you. I’ve seen what I wanted.”
She stopped cutting spells with the dagger.
“Now,” he said, leaning forward. “To the matter at hand. I do not have all the answers you wish, as I have never encountered an artifact like that. But I am not ignorant. We discovered the boundary between worlds long before this day, as my father indicated, and so I have insights that may prove useful to your research.”
Excited, Vivi leaned in as well. “I’m all ears.”