Zeke lowered his hand, watching the retreating figures. The elven delegation passed through the gate of his estate and disappeared from sight. This time, he could no longer sense their Life Magic as they made their way through the streets of the third circle.
The reason was simple.
He turned his head toward the potent source of Life Magic standing beside him.
"I didn't think it would be you."
Raileh inclined her head haughtily. "Why would it not be me? Or have you suddenly changed your mind, human?"
Zeke shook his head. Her attitude didn't bother him in the slightest. Nothing could dampen his spirits now. This was truly a blessing. Not only had he found an exceptional mentor for Maya, but he had also secured the aid of a Life-attuned Archmage.
Truly, fortune came in waves.
Zeke motioned to a servant as he turned to leave. They would see to it that his new guest was settled. Now that the ball had started rolling, he suddenly found himself pressed for time. A thousand matters demanded his attention at once.
Before he could reach the door, Raileh's voice stopped him. This time, her tone carried far less attitude. "I would have a word, if you'd allow it."
Zeke paused. Though they had agreed that Raileh would assist him, the nature of their relationship had yet to be defined. An Archmage, regardless of race, could not be treated as a common servant. It would fall to him to set the terms.
He gave a small nod. "Walk with me."
A calculated move—it signaled that his time was valuable and that if she wanted any of it, she would have to meet him halfway.
Raileh fell into step without hesitation, waiting until he gave the signal before speaking. "I would like to know my exact duties while I remain in your service."
Zeke was mildly surprised, though he kept it from showing. He knew the elves lived by a rigid hierarchy, but he hadn't expected even an Archmage to fall into line so readily.
Instantly, his mind conjured a list of duties, as if prepared long ago. It would be far easier to keep the elf in line by acting as one of the strict superiors she was already accustomed to. Accordingly, he phrased nothing as a request—only as orders.
"Until we make for Rukia, you will serve as head healer of the house, tending to any and all injuries. Second, you may wander the grounds of my estate, but you are not to leave it. Third, you will act as a preliminary instructor for my sister until she meets her official mentor."
"Understood."
The word came naturally, as though she had received orders this way countless times before. Good. He had successfully positioned himself as a superior in her mind. Now he only needed to maintain the act until the idea settled firmly.
"…Anything else?" he asked as they continued walking.
"I was wondering how long we would remain here before setting out for the lowlands."
The lowlands—the term Yggdrasil's chosen used for the lands of their distant cousins. In other words, the elven name for Rukia.
Zeke shook his head. "In a few days, I'll take my sister to visit your homeland. If—and only if—everything is in order, I'll begin preparations to depart."
"Understood."
Zeke glanced sideways. The elf still kept pace beside him. More than her famed beauty, it seemed persistence was her true hallmark.
"Anything else?" he asked again.
She nodded without hesitation. "Will I be allowed to join you on your trip home?"
"No," he said without hesitation. "I do not require a healer during my visit to your people. And you have your own duties, do you not?"
"Understood," she said a third time. This time, she seemed satisfied and finally stopped following him.
Zeke didn't turn, nor did he look back. Yet the moment he rounded the corner, he vanished from sight.
The entire walk had only been a front to appear busy. In truth, he had no need to walk anywhere—he could traverse space freely within the bounds of his Sphere of Awareness.
Likewise, the reasons he had given her for not accompanying him to Yggdrasil were only half-truths. While he truly doubted he would need a healer there, the real reason was different: he didn't want her people to see her acting subservient to a human. That would invite mockery—and risk undermining their future relationship.
But that was all the attention he could spare the elf.
Now that he had resolved to go to war, countless matters demanded his focus. Despite his confidence, Zeke would never throw himself into danger without preparing a few trump cards. Some of which he had been working on for some time. But ideas alone would not suffice. It was time for action.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Thankfully, the crushing workload became infinitely more manageable thanks to Akasha. Even while he had been walking with Raileh, the Spirit had already begun carrying out his plans.
When Zeke entered his study, he found it alive with controlled chaos. Letters were being penned, orders dispatched, strategies drafted. And at the center of it all stood Akasha.
Her calm, detached presence was a sharp contrast to the flurry of activity around her. She appeared—and in truth was—the eye of the storm, untouched by its fury.
Of course, the Spirit did not need to appear in physical form to perform these tasks. She did it for him, so that his words felt natural spoken aloud.
"How are we doing?"
"No unexpected hurdles."
Despite her lips moving and her voice sounding perfectly natural, Zeke knew both her appearance and her words were nothing more than illusions woven straight into his mind, invisible to anyone else.
With a brisk nod, he stepped behind his desk, his gaze shifting between the half-dozen letters being penned at once.
These were for the people who most needed to know of his decision to go to war.
David, who led the reformation of Undercity, topped that list. From the latest reports, progress had been smooth, with no outside forces moving to suppress their growth. That might change once David left, but Zeke had no choice. He could not leave the only Archmage in his service behind while marching to war.
He could only hope Undercity had grown strong enough to stand without David's shadowy hands guiding events and removing obstacles.
The next letters were for the three Chimeroi still in the wilderness.
Ash would remain in place, continuing to serve as liaison to Winter and his people. Gravitas, Vulcanos, and their small army of Frostscale warriors, however, would join him on his campaign. For now, they were the only fighting force he could mobilize, and he would have to rely on them if he hoped to make any meaningful impact on the battlefield.
The final letter was for Leo, urging him to hold on just a little longer.
Zeke nodded approvingly as he skimmed the letters. The concise phrasing, the cadence of the words—if he hadn't known better, he might have thought he had written them himself. Akasha was getting frighteningly good at mimicking his mannerisms.
"What about—"
Before he could finish, Akasha raised a hand and pointed toward another desk.
Zeke crossed over, his eyes scanning the blueprints, building instructions, diagrams, and material lists taking shape.
This was to be one of his trump cards.
The Alexandria, his warship turned floating residence, would serve as a mobile forward base. But the ancient Destroyer-class vessel needed a heavy overhaul to live up to his standards. As the man at the forefront of airship technology, he could hardly ride a relic from a century ago into war.
The plans Akasha was finalizing here were the product of a project they had been refining ever since the conception of the Wraith.
It was still far from complete, but what they had already finished would be enough to establish basic functionality. The rest, they would improve along the way.
Zeke rubbed his chin as he scanned the blueprints. Some of the concepts he thought were still in development had already been worked into the preliminary designs. It seemed Akasha had been holding back. This was more than he had hoped for.
Satisfied that everything was in order, he turned back to the Spirit—though he didn't need to say anything.
As expected, Akasha was already pointing to another desk, the one swarmed with the most activity. Clearly, this was where the bulk of her attention was focused.
When he walked over, he saw why.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of documents were being referenced, layered into the foundation of his strategy for Rukia. As promised, Lyriel had provided him with the names of the other forces that had already accepted the elves' deal, and more updates would follow as new allies were revealed.
But even the names he had now were enough to keep Akasha busy for the time. More important than the names alone was what forces each would commit. None of the great houses would risk deploying their entire strength. The number and quality of troops they sent would determine how much use they really were.
And then there were the hidden dangers.
The chance that one might take a bribe from the Empire was small, but not zero. Zeke would not leave such risks unchecked. Akasha was already digging into each house's background, highlighting those who might require closer scrutiny.
It was a monumental endeavor, one that would occupy an entire spy network for weeks, perhaps months. Yet Zeke had no doubt Akasha would manage. Even the faintest clue—the purchase of grain, the shipment of steel—could be enough for her to draw conclusions invisible to anyone else.
One name leapt off the list the instant he saw it.
Bloodletter.
His father's ancestral house. The one that had cast him aside for failing to meet their standards.
They had tried to court Zeke ever since he appeared on the international stage. But he knew they didn't value him, not really. As a Mage with mixed affinities, they held little hope for his personal future.
What they valued was his Bloodline.
His perfect Blood affinity made him an ideal vessel to sire high-affinity offspring when paired with the right partners.
The life of a stud—destined to father exceptional children while remaining unexceptional himself.
Few fates disgusted Zeke more.
Naturally, their pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and their attempts to move against him legally had failed as well. Especially now, with his position as a Merchant Lord of Tradespire secured—a title many considered higher than that of the Bloodletters, an ordinary house of Valor.
Yet Zeke could already see it. They would use this conflict as another chance to approach him.
Whether that connection would prove a boon or a curse remained to be seen, but he would keep his eyes open for these nominal relatives—among many others. He had become so engrossed in the list of houses that he didn't notice Akasha's projection appear before him. Only when she spoke did he finally register her presence.
"What is it?"
"There is one more task that must be accomplished," she said in her flat tone. "One I cannot do in Host's stead."
Zeke froze. He knew at once what task she meant. The step he had dreaded most, the one he had unconsciously postponed until now.
With a sigh, he tore his eyes from her work. "Where are they?"
"…Just about to have dinner."
Zeke nodded. "Keep up the good work, Akasha."
With those parting words, he vanished from the study and reappeared in a far more ordinary room, where five people sat gathered around a dining table.
The scene froze as he materialized behind the last empty chair.
"Did you make enough for me?" he asked with a somewhat awkward smile.
His expression contrasted sharply with his mother's beaming face. "Always, Zeke. Always. Come, sit, sit!"
Zeke looked around the table and found every pair of eyes fixed on him. His mother, father, and sister—along with Lue and her grandfather, Jett.
Slowly, he sat, letting his mother fill his plate as he considered how best to break the news.
This would not go over well.