Домагой Курмаич - Mother of Learning

"After this invasion of yours," Daimen noted shrewdly.

"Yes. As I said, lives depend on it," Zorian insisted.

"You expect me to help you out for a mere promise of an explanation after the deed is done?" Daimen asked him.

"No," Zorian said, shaking his head. "All I want is for you to take my warning seriously and to make sure the Taramatula do the same. So long as you survive the month and protect your fiancée’s family from the invaders, I will consider this a success."

Daimen stared at him angrily for a few seconds, before rising from his log again.

"Let’s go," he told Zorian.

"Go where?" Zorian asked, taken aback at the statement.

"To Cyoria," Daimen said matter-of-factly. "You’re going back there now, aren’t you?"

"Yeah," Zorian admitted. "So you want to go with me?"

"I need to confirm things personally," Daimen said. "And check up on Kirielle, just in case. Let’s go."

"Just like that?" Zorian asked for confirmation.

"Is there a problem?" Daimen asked, frowning at him.

"Well, aren’t your fiancée and her family going to freak out if you suddenly disappear for a few days?" Zorian told him, cocking his head sideways. "I mean, surely you want to explain things to them before we set off."

Of course, Zorian could just get him back to Koth in a few hours, but Daimen didn’t really know he could open a Gate between continents at will…

Sure enough, Daimen’s eyes widened in sudden realization and he slapped himself in the forehead a few times.

"Focus, focus…" he mumbled to himself. "Alright, so we’re going to put the journey on hold for now. I… need to talk to a few people first."

In the depths of the Ziggurat of the Sun taken over by the sulrothum, a strange meeting was taking place. Zach and Zorian stood before a huge stone dais that contained this tribe’s sacred fire. The high priest and his honor guard stood in front of the fire, looking down at the two arrivals. The massive bonfire writhed and crackled in a strange, somewhat ominous manner, casting light and shadows alike on the surrounding walls.

Both sides silently scrutinized each other for a full minute before the sulrothum high priest decided to break the ice.

"Welcome, guests," the high priest said. "We have been expecting you."

"You have?" Zorian asked curiously.

That was quite unusual, since their visit here was completely unannounced.

"The angels have informed us of your coming," the high priest told them.

Of course. Zorian had kind of expected that, to be honest. Funnily enough, the angels were not nearly as willing to contact human organizations to help them out. For example, Zach and Zorian had been in secret talks with the Triumvirate Church representatives, and at no point did the angels contact the Church hierarchy to make the negotiations go more smoothly. But a random sulrothum tribe in the middle of the Xlotic desert merited them sending actual instruction? Just what made this tribe of devil wasps so special, anyway?

"Did they inform you why we were coming?" Zach asked them.

"You’re here to ask for help, of course," the high priest said easily. "A great battle is about to take place, pitting the allies of heaven against an ancient evil."

"Well… yeah, that’s what we’re here for," Zach admitted after a second.

"We accept," the high priest immediately said.

"Just like that?" Zach asked incredulously, arching his eyebrow.

"What more is there to say?" the high priest asked rhetorically. "Only cowards would shirk from this kind of battle. To fight and die in the name of heaven is glorious. Surely you understand this? I can sense the mark of the angels shining bright on you."

"The mark of heaven…" Zach said sourly. "Yay. What an honor ."

The high priest’s multifaceted eyes stared at Zach for a second, antennae twitching, trying to interpret his statement.

"Children often do not understand the importance of what their parents try to teach them," the high priest eventually remarked.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Zach asked, annoyed.

"Just a random remark," the sulrothum high priest said, waving his hand in front of him dismissively. A very human gesture. Zorian wondered if sulrothum really did that, or if the high priest was familiar enough with human customs to mimic their habits. "I just realized you are quite young in human terms."

"We thank you for your help from the bottom of our hearts," Zorian quickly said, cutting Zach off from continuing the pointless argument. "If it’s all right with you, we’d like to discuss battle plans."

"Let’s," agreed the high priest.

In a small, out-of-the-way alley on the outskirts of Cyoria, simulacrum number two was painting a picture on a wall. It was a small, abstract picture the size of a human head, vaguely resembling an eyeball if one viewed it from the right angle.

To a casual observer, the painting would likely look like a random graffiti, the likes of which were quite common in Cyoria. The city was crawling with young beginner mages, after all, and they often used their newly gained magic skills to vandalize the walls of nearby buildings. Painting spells were beginner stuff, and nearly every mage was capable of using them.

But the painting was more than just idle amusement. So much more. After half an hour, the simulacrum carefully connected the last two lines of the drawing, causing a faint blue sigil to momentarily flash into existence within the painting, before quickly fading away from sight.

After observing his handiwork for a few more seconds, the simulacrum placed his hand on the painting, activated the spell formula hidden within it, and then dived into it with his mind.

Almost immediately, a sea of glowing suns popped into existence inside his mind, connected by a dense web of light. His mind raced from one sun to the next, his mind sense and telepathy manifesting itself throughout the whole network. There were sigils like this one scattered throughout most of the city by now, and through them, Zorian’s mind powers could envelop nearly all of Cyoria. Every building, every street was within his reach. He could see and invade anyone and anything, from the lowest pigeon to the most high-ranking mage…

He quickly retracted his mind from the sigil, afraid he would get noticed by someone. This had to stay absolute secret. No one, not even his closest allies, was allowed to know about the sigil network.

Taking one last look at the painting, simulacrum number two nodded to himself and wandered off to place more sigils elsewhere. Some of these paintings were bound to be found and erased by the city authorities and building owners, so it best if he had some spared scattered around.

"99 telepathy nodes on the wall, 99 telepathy nodes… take one down, wipe it away, 98 telepathy nodes on the wall…" the simulacrum hummed to himself.

He had lots of work to do today.

In of the empty academy classrooms, Zorian and Tinami sat facing each other, both silent.

Well, for a few moments, at least.

"Are you serious?" Tinami asked incredulously. "You can connect me with the legendary aranea?"

"I’m not sure I would call them legendary ," Zorian remarked. "They’re more common than you’d think, and a bit underwhelming once you get to know them. But yes, I can indeed do that."

He had gotten to talk to Tinami the same way he did in the past – by answering her call to have someone help her practice her telepathy skills. Naturally, the moment she experienced his innate mental skills, she wanted to know how she got them, and that quickly led the conversation to the topic of aranea.

The point of all this, of course, was to get House Aope involved in preparations for the invasion. They had shown themselves to be quite resourceful and capable the one time he and Spear of Resolve had brought them into the whole invasion conspiracy. The awful, catastrophic outcome of that restart aside, the Aope had played their part perfectly.