Chapter Eighty-Six: Heptarchis – Part Two (Illustrations!)

Chapter Eighty-Six: Heptarchis – Part Two (Illustrations!)

Orchta was the name of the place where the meteorite crash landed all those years ago. As such, it was constructed at the bottom of a colossal crater and surrounded by rugged cliffs that made descent perilously dangerous unless you used one of the seven roads. The Orchta was a ‘holy ground,’ so to speak, so it didn’t offer much in relaxation or entertainment.

We were traveling down one of the roads—one that held torches alit with green flames. I stood on top of the carriage and saw the other six paths with my enhanced eyesight, flanked by torches lit with their respective colors. Ayroix’s group was on the one meant for Atrix.

At the bottom, we entered through a gate after Gretchen confirmed her identity to the robed monks standing in front. The roads were left unpaved, and they were bumpy and uneven. Surtr attracted much attention from the onlookers—all were dressed in colors not matching any of Parthina’s Vestiges. Since this was the heart of Parthina, the overwhelming natural phenomena from the city-states didn’t exist. That purple wind was nowhere to be seen, and the trees and grass were clear like colorless glass.

It was like...those seven colors had vanished from this place...

The carriages stopped in front of a building, and I hopped down. Gretchen met me and explained that Orchta was not to show favoritism to any one city-state. Their colors and symbols weren’t supposed to match the Vestiges. “The Heptarchis is to take place at a structure in the middle of the village called The Entente Sanctum. Seven paths radiate outward and lead to seven buildings. That is where we will stay while the discussions are ongoing.”

“I can think of them as embassies, yes? The Plymoise dorm is considered Plymoise’s property?”

“That’s correct. Follow me, and I’ll escort you to the sanctum. We must meet with the Wisefolk and check in. The Heptarchis isn’t scheduled to start until tomorrow.”

After unhooking Surtr from the harness, we followed Gretchen to our destination. My lion really attracted attention, but no one said anything.

We reached the sanctum, met up with Ayroix and the others, then walked around to where Plymoise’s embassy sat. Two guards in leather armor opened the door for us. They shared looks after Surtr was too big to fit through. He had no choice but to return to my bracelet—much to his chagrin.

After stepping in, I was met by the grandeur of the magnificent hall. Seven marble columns nearby supported the roof, and they were ornately carved with prior tales of unity and cooperation from the seven city-states. Sunlight filtered through the green stained-glass windows, and the air was filled with anticipation.

“Have you been here before?” I asked Ayroix.

“No. I read Gregory’s journals after you left, so I understand the traditions and schedule well enough. But his words fail to do Orchta justice.”

“It is a unique experience, Lord Atrix,” Gretchen said. “But don’t worry. I shall impart what I know. We are allies, are we not?”

“Thank you for your generosity, Lady Plymoise. It will not be forgotten.” Ayroix bowed very slightly.

My lord, permission to stay here? I could begin the process of indexing the city.

Go for it.

Tris remained behind and entered the room that would be ours. I subtly left five tiny balls of slime that rolled under the door when we departed for Atrix’s embassy.

That one was mostly the same, but everything was colored orange. We then left and walked until arriving at the Entente Sanctum. It was a circular structure-- one without a roof—and it housed a magnificent meeting table. It was an open-air auditorium—almost like an outdoor theatre—a circular structure without a roof. I was sure it was enchanted with wind or some other magic to keep the area dry should it rain. Well, Tris later confirmed my thoughts a second later.

And we weren’t alone.

“Ah, Lady Plymoise! When I heard word of Atrix’s aggression, I certainly feared the worst,” said a bald man with a striking red mustache and beard, which matched his suit. He was flanked by a pair of soldiers wielding flaming weapons across their backs.

“Lord Indiko, how kind of you to worry about me,” replied Gretchen. “It was a harrowing experience, but it is behind us.”

“Pray, I hope it is. However, might I inquire why you didn’t request a Heptarchis before the assault happened? Surely you saw the signs, Lady Plymoise.”

“That is why we are here, my dear friend. It concerns this very Heptarchis. Have you seen Lady Riotic, Lord Terokai, or Sir Hairokei?”

“They arrived yesterday, as did I. Lord Napoli is missing, but I’m sure he'll arrive within the half-day. The Wisefolk departed an hour ago for dinner.”

“I see. I would have liked to check in, but it will wait.”

“About Lord Atrix... Lady Plymoise, are the rumors I hear true? Is that...?” He eyed Ayroix and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Ayroix Atrix, Lord Indiko. Atrix is under my rule—”

“Under your rule? As I understand it, boy, the High Elf of Liberation is responsible for your successes.” He looked at me. “Without her, you wouldn’t—”

“Don’t misunderstand, Lord Indiko. What I did cannot possibly compare to leading a rebellion with a just heart,” I interjected. “The seven rulers of the seven city-states are equals when you are here, are you not? It would hardly be appropriate to start calling each other by demoralizing titles.”

“And that’s where you’re mistaken, Madam High Elf.” He looked me up and down and refrained from commenting on my outfit.

“It’s Lord Springfield. And pray tell, why am I wrong?”

“Until the Wisefolk convene and decree the boy of having the blood of a Vestige flowing through him, he is none other than a child not deserving to be here. He has not earned acknowledgment, for in my eyes, he is merely pretending to be worthy. Until he has been accepted, he is less of a man and more of trash not befitting to sully my boots or gaze.”

“The Wisefolk? I see... This will be an interesting moment in Parthina’s history?”

“Oh? You’ve got me curious, Lord Springfield. I am awfully intrigued to test the extent of the rumors I’ve heard. For example, they say you ride a flaming lion while wielding the firesalt-fueled armaments commonly used by Dark Elves. Is that true?”

I didn’t have any guns equipped because it felt like walking in with five firearms holstered on my body was probably asking for trouble.

“And they say Atrix and Plymoise have signed treaties of defense and trade. How peculiar. Care to wage in, Lady Plymoise?” he continued.

Gretchen smiled and spoke for me. “Rumors can be powerful tools, Lord Indiko. Very powerful, very damaging, and very useful. But let us save that for the Heptarchis, yes? The trip was long, and we must recover before tomorrow.”

The Wisefolk were seven individuals, three male and four female, who wore colorless robes. Even their hair and facial hair lacked color and seemed to be transparent. They were already sitting, leaving a space between them. Seven of the remaining eight spots had a small rock, which matched the Vestiges’ colors.

We arrived first, so Gretchen took her seat. Me, Tris, and Surtr, who had all eyes on him, stood behind her. I crossed my arms.

“Is that the elusive lion we’ve heard so much about in the past weeks? The one that killed five drakes and three hippogriffs single-handedly? The one contracted to the fabled High Elf of Liberation?” The speaker was Sir Hairokei, the second city-state ruler to join the Heptarchis. He wore a yellow robe, but his left eye was made of yellow stained glass.

I’m fabled now?

The two women standing behind him were dressed as kunoichi. Their outfits were yellow, but their hoods and lower face masks were black.

“Ah, I wondered when it was going to show up. Let me guess, Lord Springfield. Your powerful spirit resides within that bracelet you wear, yes?” Lord Indiko was the next to arrive a moment later.

“You may be correct.”

“Lord Indiko, don’t tell me you’ve never seen a catalyst like that, have you?” Lady Riotic arrived next with her male entourage. She was a tanned woman who wore a purple suit. Her freckles and ponytail shared the same color. After she sat, she lifted her hand. The purple ring she wore flashed, and a violet cobra materialized. It slithered to her head and rested, coiling while acting like a sentry.

“Can’t say I have, Lady Riotic. I choose to employ spirits that don’t need to remain locked away. It diminishes their value. Oh? Is that Lord Napoli?”

A dark-skinned man with black scales on his forearms walked into the sanctum. He remained silent when sitting down. His orcish guards each had two warhammers on their backs.

“...”

“Still a man of few words, huh?” Lord Indiko shrugged.

“We’re missing Lord Atrix, yes? Should I take his absence to mean the rumors I heard about his city-state are true? Has it really fallen to rebellion?” Lord Terokai asked. He sat and crossed his legs. He shared the same skin tone as Napoli, yet rather than have scales, Lord Terokai’s face was covered in glowing tattoos that matched his blue suit.

“Not necessarily, Lord Terokai,” said Ayroix, who was the last to arrive. Blackthorn stood behind the young lord as he took his seat.

“Ah, the whelping has returned,” Lord Indiko said. “Care to regal us with how Atrix was given to you? Are you sure you’re supposed to be here? Return home, boy.”

“Why the hostility, my friend?” Lady Riotic asked. “Should we not wait and see if he carries the blood of his Vestige?”

“Look at him. That’s all the proof you need.”

“Wisefolk, could you resolve this issue? We won’t get anywhere if we continue to squabble like this.”

All seven raised their hands towards the rocks in front of the leaders. Gretchen and the others touched them, and they illuminated in their respective colors.

Lord Indiko looked at Ayroix and referred to him as Lord Atrix, and it seemed that was all he needed. But the bastard didn’t apologize. He just shrugged it off with a jolly laugh.

“You have my thanks,” said Lady Riotic. “Furthermore, it’s not often we have an empty seat. Care to fill us in, my dear Wisefolk?”

“Due to the circumstances behind this Heptarchis...” One Wisefolk spoke, then stopped, and another continued their sentence.

“...the Kingdom of Aquanis has taken note of the skirmish and hasty conclusion of Atrix’s aggression...”

“...the Dark Lord of Justice contacted Orchta and offered his assistance to reach a peaceful conclusion...”

“The Dark Lord of Justice?!” Terokai and Indiko exclaimed. “The Head Arbitrator of Aquanis? Coming here?”

Suddenly, my ears twitched. A second later, a hole in the fabric of time and space opened, and two people walked out.

One was a man—a towering figure of seven feet with a commanding presence. His brown skin spoke of strength and resilience. His bald head gleamed under the warm sunlight, complementing his sharp facial features and deep, contemplative eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom.

He was adorned in flowing orange monk robes. The fabric cascaded down his muscular frame, accentuating his wide chest and broad shoulders. Each sinewy muscle spoke of years of rigorous training and physical prowess. A turtle shell necklace adorned his neck, its ornate patterns and earthy tones signifying wisdom and protection.

That was Enele, the Dark Lord of Justice—the most powerful existence I’d seen in my life as Lyudmila Vredi Springfield. His skills were a dozen miles long, and he was a master of many different fighting styles.

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But he wasn’t alone. A slim, slender woman was with him. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown.

Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, shimmering in the sunlight and highlighting her delicate features. Her elongated, elegantly pointed ears revealed her Elvish heritage. She wore a flowing cloak that draped gracefully around her shoulders. Its telluric hues and intricate needlework reflected her connection to nature.

The staff she wielded struck a chord in my heart because I felt Susize’s memories pass me by. It was forged from the oldest tree in Vredi Forest—the one that imparted the wood for Susize’s first bow. It gleamed with runes and symbols I recognized as being from Ancient Elvish. It was a protective poem Susize chiseled into it after she opened Holy Lord Amos’s Soul Crystal and became his Soul Warrior-- the same words were engraved on her outfit, which was sewn by those she loved very, very much...so long, long ago.

This elf was Lv. 155, a master of magic, and over 1,200 years old.

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And her name was Seraphina Vredi.

Things just became more complicated.