Chapter 630: Royal Regalia

Chapter 630: Royal Regalia

Argrave and Anneliese wore strange robes of Artur’s design. They were made of metal formed into a wire—how it had been crafted was beyond Argrave, but apparently, it was made of electrum. Argrave had rather embarrassingly thought electrum was a fantasy metal, but no—it was an alloy of gold, silver, and a few other metals. Both of them looked like they were going into a rave, doubly so because every single inch of metallic thread had been enchanted. The worst part was, Artur had insisted their flesh be bare against the metal robes. To say the least of the situation, it made cotton seem pleasant by comparison.

Despite the uncomfortable garment, watching Artur consumed by his strange mood was truly a sight to behold. His ability to multitask was exceptional—he spent as little time travelling as possible, efficiently routing his path around the forge so that he would move to one task and stick to it until all that he’d gathered had been put to use. He mumbled to himself all while he worked.

It all seemed rather excessive until one realized the level of detail each part of the work contained. If every inch of the metal robes they wore were enchanted, that same level of detail was doubtlessly replicated elsewhere. It was heartening to know he was putting so much work into creating this artifact. No one else could likely create something so intricate in this day and age.

The former Magister of the Gray Owl was very secretive about his unnamed A-rank ascension, but it was a large part of his success as a craftsman. In essence, he could use magic to determine something’s structure. It was a vague description, Argrave knew, but he supposed its true effect could only be experienced by the one who bore it. He could tell at a glance something’s material composition, the layout of an enchantment, or how an object was held together. It might be likened to [Truesight], but that was geared toward perception while Artur’s was geared toward analysis.

“Alright.” Artur descended off his cloak, alighting and looking between everything. “We’re ready.”

With that declaration, Artur opened a small metal box that contained the Fruit of Being. He turned it upside down, and it fell into his hand. As Argrave and Anneliese both came to attention, he beckoned them forward.

“Reach in. You, there. And you, that one,” he instructed them, pointing out two metal boxes with openings barely large enough for a hand. “Take hold, firmly.”

They both heeded his instructions, reaching inside their respective boxes and grasping what was within. It took Argrave a moment, but he recognized the feel of the Resonant Pillar. Additions had been made, but the core of it was the same. Artur squeezed in between them and placed the Fruit of Being in a chamber bridging the two boxes. He slid a lid shut, then rested his hand on a knob at the top of the box.

“Door locked?” He looked over, confirming the door to the workshop was indeed closed. “Alright. Whatever you do, don’t let go. It shouldn’t be painful, but if it is, bear with it. I shudder to imagine what the things I’ve coded to happen will do if one half of the equation is simply missing.”

Anneliese studied him. “Coded?”

Artur pushed the knob in, and Argrave heard a squelch. Had he just crushed the Fruit of Being?

“In craftsmanship, many things are about efficiency. It’s a lot easier to make a machine that makes what you need than to do it by hand. Imagine if we smelted with magic instead of a forge, for instance, or ground wheat by hand instead of with a mill. This process might’ve taken us weeks if I hadn’t made this contraption—weeks during which your royal presences would need to lie stark naked on a table.”

Argrave was sure of it—the Fruit of Being had been crushed. As a matter of fact, he was certain he heard juices flowing.

“Instead, I’ve delegated the minutiae to the powers that be, so to speak.” Artur stepped away, examining things. “While they do their business, let me tell you about the royal heirlooms I’ve made. Indeed, you’ll be passing these items down to your heirs for time eternal.”

Argrave wanted to look at Artur, but he couldn’t turn with his arm embedded in the box. He stared at Anneliese as she, too, exuded the same desire to turn around.

“Argrave’s staff is the negative side of the equation. It negates, erases. It’s intended to take in what permeates the Shadowlands, leaving behind emptiness which can then be replaced by the positive side of the equation—Anneliese’s staff. Hers can take that which is negated and recreate it in a fashion more hospitable to you and those near to you. These weapons can effectively rebuild the Shadowlands into a state more habitable for you and yours. I wish I could give you more detailed information about what that entails, but all I know is that’s what it’ll do.”

“You’re sure?” He insisted of Artur, giving in to Anneliese lest she pull out his hair.

“I’m certain,” Artur nodded, his eyes gleaming. “I can see it happening right in front of me.”

#####

After a few hours, Anneliese’s only remaining affliction was a touch of embarrassment. She had put on a beige shirt with brown pants and sat on a bench just beside Argrave, who wore something roughly matching. Artur floated a comfortable distance away.

“I forgot it all, Your Highness,” Artur insisted as she cast glances at him.

Anneliese covered her face. Argrave told him, “Lying only makes it worse for her. She knows.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “More importantly, I can feel the changes. Not just the weapon, but much else.” She offered her hand to Argrave. “Let me show you.”

He put his hand on her own, and then... he felt magic flowing into his body. Shortly after, vitality, energy. He withdrew his hand in surprise.

“[Life Cycle]’s functions have been expanded,” she informed him. “I can perform both—absorbing and ejecting energy. It feels even more efficient than it once was. And... you can feel it too, right?”

Argrave nodded, staring into her eyes. “Yeah. The connection.”

“Those artifacts are a part of us, now. But they’re also bound together,” she said in wonder. “I am curious... just how far we can feel it?”

“The artifacts were the only thing I’d intended,” Artur admitted. “But it seems as though you two have changed in more ways than one. You can conjure the weapons, though, correct?”

Argrave held his hand out, reaching within himself for that presence he felt. Then, it took shape just as a magic spell might’ve. He gripped what had once been the Resonant Pillar, examining it. Once, it had been a quarterstaff, evenly weighted. Now, it had turned into a long scepter of sorts. Its base was black, gilded and studded with gemstones tastefully. There were ornate carvings related to Vasquer’s heraldry all along its surface, and sunbursts of gold at points. He could feel an ominous resonance from it. It felt attuned with his blood magic—he could feel it by instinct.

Anneliese, too, conjured hers. The staff crafted of Veid’s heart had been an ungainly wooden thing. Now, it was sleeker and white, with silver and amber for decoration. He saw some magic script scrawled all along it. Anneliese gave the top a pull, and the blade came free. It looked almost divinely white, with silver accents. Artur certainly had a flair for the beautiful. Both staffs were something Argrave were almost decorative.

“...I added some magic to make it easier to use as an actual blade. Barring the access to the Shadowlands, I know they have yet more powers that you’ll need to discover,” Artur said quietly. “I designed them intending for there to be deep synergies between the two weapons. Apart, they will still be tremendous assets. Together... is there any cycle more potent than that of life and death?”

Argrave and Anneliese looked at each other. Both of them knew what the other was feeling—unbridled excitement.