Chapter 8

Evocation and Blossoming Futures

11th of Middle Spring, 12529 D.E.

The Silver Wilds of Anciart, The Mistal-Prican Illager Confederation

Lord Prican's Manor

Urie woke up, staring up at the wooden ceiling above him.

The Illager manor's ceiling… He thought, before sitting up in bed. It was still so surreal, getting a first-hand look inside a Manor without being a captive. The sights, the smells… No Villager was ever meant to get a taste of an Illager's life, even the likes of these Illagers in a backwards place like this. And yet…

Urie got out of the bed, donning his robes and thinking of what this day will bring. First off, he's been granted the chance to talk to and share knowledge with one of the manor's Evokers, the Illager's version of a Shaman or Cleric. Perhaps the equivalent of a lesser Villager Scholar of Magicka, such as himself. Yet still, the fact that he has the chance to talk to an Evoker is still rattling around in his head.

Stretching in front of the window, which overlooked the forest of dark oak trees surrounding the Manor, with distant outposts poking just out of the treeline. Illagers of the Manors love to settle themselves in dark oak forest for the abundance of wood and the relative isolation the woods provide. Of course, more civilized Illagers do not live exclusively in either manors or outposts, but have their own villages like their more colorful subjects. Some even live amongst the Villagers, in order to rule them better.

Mirvain was different. It was one of the few mixed nations, where Illagers and Villagers coexisted. It helped that they all spoke Common, or Anciartan if you're unaware of how far the Common tongue spreads. Even in the furthest reaches of the Overworld that one could get to from Anciart, they'd still speak the same Common tongue, perhaps calling it by their own continent's name too. Mirvain saw a lot of trouble in the region of Acciton, due to their tolerance of both Villager and Illager making the neighbors upset at them. No wonder then that when the Black-Eyed King burned his way down from Arlainz, the Duchy (often called a Kingdom by some, though that is a misconception) of Mirvain found no allies, and was even burned worse than other Villager states.

Stepping out of his room and into the expansive and labyrinthine halls, he cleared his mind of home and began to think more about this insight into the past. Some few thousand years ago, something like a Villager Kingdom was a distant idea, a legend of the long past Villager Era, an impossibility comparable to the idea of the Nether and the invasion it launched. Perhaps the legend of Villagers and Illagers uniting was true then, but it proved only an outside force could unite the two races. No such thing exists.

His thoughts once again returned to the manor itself. A few of the Illagers passing by him gave him harsh glances, but his status as protected meant he wouldn't be axed, literally, by the denizens of the Illager equivalent to a Village. Illager society was far more militant than Villager society, even lacking the idea of holding to Peace unless you absolutely needed to fight. Backstabbing others to rise up the ranks? Perfectly acceptable, so long as your schemes aren't exposed or your homicides discovered. Spreading false rumors to tarnish one's reputation? Pervasive and constant, so long as you aren't discovered to be the source. It was already bad outside of Mirvain (and even in Mirvain, it was still not great at times), but it was somehow worse in the Manor Lordist societies like these.

On his way to the Evoker's study, he passed by kitchens, warehouses, crop farms, livestock rooms, barracks, cells, and all manner of other rooms, all meant to serve the Manor and its inhabitants. The number of occupants likely did not exceed a thousand, like many villages he had come across himself. But it only took a small number of Illagers to tax dozens of villages, especially since Illagers can bring in something to deal with Iron Golems: Evokers, and Ravagers.

Monstrous, horned devils that barrel through entire houses-

He shook his head as he arrived at the door to a room on the third floor. With a knock, he gulped down his fear and announced himself.

"U-Urie Nozymas, aspiring Scholar. I came because Lord Mistal wished to let me speak to you?"

Nothing.

For a solid minute, there was no response. Then, the door slammed open, and dark green eyes appeared right in his face, staring daggers into him.

"Hmm, so you're the son of a Villager Scholar that Mistal wanted to have me speak with?" The gray-skinned Evoker, still uncomfortably close to his face. Her breath was icy-cold, and the somewhat familiar feel of Magicka spiked it. "I suppose I could learn something from you. The Pillagers always wind up killing the Clerics in the villages they raid."

She backed away, looking over the rest of him. Now that she wasn't right in his face, he could also get a better look at her. Assuming she wasn't de-aging herself, she looked to be about his age, which didn't make sense if this was the head Evoker. Also, there had to be some effect coming off of her and affecting Urie, judging by the strange feelings going through his head. "Hmm. I suppose you'll do. Come inside. We can talk."

Why does he have a bad feeling about this?

"So, this is how this will work."

Urie sat in front of a fireplace, in the Evoker's study room. Across from him was the Evoker, sipping from the herbal drink that also sat in his hands. It was some bitter concoction, supposedly a luxury from across the desert that he only heard of vaguely before. All the way across Anciart even.

"I will ask you one thing, and then you can ask me something once you answer, and we will repeat that until I am satisfied with your responses. First question." She said, refusing to wait for his acceptance. Typical. "How well do you understand the basics of Manipulation?"

"Obviously, it's split into two distinct forms. Mining, which involves the use of Magicka to move and break apart material, and Crafting, which involves the use of Magicka to arrange and put together material. Manipulation is used by every person in daily life, except when in Violence." He answered, drawing on what he learned from his father's tutelage. He was the most studious of his siblings, aside from the eldest, who… was he still alive?

"Good enough. You may ask your question." The Evoker said, drawing him out of his grief spiral on accident.

"How does Evocation work compared to Enchantment, Manipulation, and other forms of using Magicka?"

"A predictable question. While it is similar to Enchantment with how it must involve the Ancient's Tongue, it does not alter the capabilities nor apply any effects to an object. It is also similar to Manipulation, however it does not involve the altering of material except that of creatures, which Manipulation does not do. Evocation manipulates creatures, empowering both our Ravagers and our own people, and makes the Ravagers in the first place. It can turn creatures such as cows and Allays into, well, have you seen what they look closest to?"

"Ravagers and Vexes, yes. One of those twisted bulls busted in my front door."

"Ah. Anyways, it also allows for unleashing spells, though most Evokers prefer to bring forth Vexes and those things called 'Fangs.' Pure Magicka creatures that exist only for a brief time, unlike other creatures of pure Magicka like Allays. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My turn for a question: Tell me about your home."

Urie blinked, surprised by the sudden topic shift. With a cough, he gathered his thoughts and answered.

"Mirvain was in the middle of Acciton, between Novarrain and Birgendia, so just bordering Ondaberia. It was a Duchy, not a kingdom like so many believe it to be. They chose this name because it was a society where Villagers and Illagers were equals. It was peaceful, despite the domestic issues it faced. It also looked beautiful aswell. Until the Black-Eyed King came."

"Who?" The woman asked, ignoring the fact that it wasn't her turn yet. Not that he could remind her of that.

"Honestly, I don't remember his name. He's an Illager King, not like your Manor Lords, who took power in Arlainz and conquered a huge amount of territory. From the Rin River to Zretonny, and from Haalund and now, to Mirvain. I don't think Novarrain will last long, since it's the last of the Acciton states to not be under his rule. I think. Anyways, he invaded Mirvain and devastated it, moreso than other kingdoms he invaded, because of our tolerance. There's… nothing left of the Nozymas family. Perhaps my oldest brother was away, but I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him since I was little."

The Evoker said nothing, letting him speak his grief. At some point, he stopped talking, creating a silence that filled the entire room, except for the crackling of the fireplace. Even still, she didn't say a word for at least a few minutes.

"Ahem, sorry for your loss? And for your next question?" She finally said, once again pulling Urie out of yet another depressive spiral.

He continued to trade questions and answers, this time more focused on the more minute detail of Magicka, alongside discussions of their respective societies. Throughout the whole discussion though, Urie couldn't help but see the Evoker woman infront of him act a little bit strangely. Was she… actually sorry for him?

Through the rest of the discussion, Urie learned she actually was his age, and was essentially a prodigy in Evocation and other forms of Magicka. Her talent got her recognized by the Sibling Lords, so she ended up in the head position of the Lords' Evokers.

Part of him felt be less on edge now, but there was still something off about her. The way she moved, the slight adjustments to her deep black robe, her posture… She was planning something. But what?

"Well, I think we've reached the end of our discussion." She said suddenly, clapping her hands together. "Yet I can't help but feel we didn't pay equally."

"What?" Urie said, suddenly fearing for his very near future.

"Of course, I can't figure out which of us got the better end of the deal, so we must satisfy this imbalance. I, of course, already have something in mind."

Suddenly, she glanced over at the door, and pointed at it.

"ꖎ𝙹ᓵꖌ"

An audible locking sound could be heard, and Urie's fear only began to rise. What was she planning to do? What horrific deeds was she-

"Oh, and by the way, the name's Istarte."

Why was she loosening her robe-

…Oh. So that's what she meant…

…I wonder if Father would be proud of me right now?

Urie departed the next day, with some new… insights on various aspects of Illager life. Aside from that event, he also learned about how flawed his own view on Illager society functions outside of Mirvain. What he thought was a pit of endless backstabbing was instead a close-knit group tied together by their Manor Lord, or Lords in this case, that simply distrusted other Manors. Internal factions exist, yes, but at the end of the day they're still living under the same roof.

There are also a lot more manors (and a lot more villages, actually) than he thought there were. So many are just hidden and don't have road access, and most manor lords fall in line with another Manor Lord. As it turns out, it was he who had a poor view of the Illagers, and not the other way around. He wasn't quite convinced, after all they were living off the backs of his people, but the hypocrisy does apparently go both ways.

Perhaps something like Mirvain can happen again, but it'd need a miracle for it to happen now. He can see the possibility of it now, if the night with Istarte proved anything.

And wasn't that something? It certainly was… nice, but he hadn't expected that to be his first experience. Thinking back on it, it was rather obvious now that she was interested, but only had any real desire for him after he told his second answer.

Looking back at the third story of the Manor, Urie thought he saw those same eyes looking back at him through that study's window, but it was only after he saw a gray hand wave at him that he realized Istarte was indeed in the window.

He waved back, knowing it'd probably be the last time he ever saw her. Probably.

The Manor retreated further and further behind him, but the protection of it remained on him through a small gray band on his arm, displaying the flag of the Confederation. To the local Manor Lords, it meant he was under the protection of the Mistal-Prican Confederation, and should not be touched. To those in the Confederation, it meant he was immune from tolls and would get special protection from the Illagers of Mistal and Prican.

He'll keep it off in villages though.

Several weeks of traveling seemed to pass in a blur. Compared to Lord Azum's territory, the Confederation was much nicer. The villages were more prosperous, and the Pillagers only tolled at bridges, rather than randomly whenever they encountered a Villager. Not like they tolled him, since the Lords' protection made him immune to their typical charade.

A mixed blessing of the Protection meant he got to speak with many of the Pillagers he encountered on the way. Most just wanted to know why he gained protection from Mistal and Prican, and hearing his story made plenty treat him like how Illagers in Mirvain used to treat him. The respectful ones, anyways. But even this didn't last, as he crossed into the part of wilds controlled by no lord.

Here, survival was more difficult. Monsters roamed uncontrollably here, and while that was to be expected, it was worse than any other grouping of monsters he had ever seen. Rarer, passive monsters like the Spiders and the Creepers were in surprising numbers, though that was nothing compared to the undead.

By his guess, he'd arrived just as the Summer did, though it felt the same as the Spring did. And still, he was no closer to figuring out what the Silver glow was. Some Clerics he spoke to on his way here theorized it may be a person, but nobody could possibly live within this madness.

He sighed as he walked through the picturesque cherry grove with Boor right behind him. It was a pretty distraction, but since there was little else of this area to search, he'd have to give up and head back to the Confederation at some point. Maybe return to Istarte… No, he shouldn't think about that. That was a month ago at this point.

The soft wind blew against his skin, and the feel of the gravel path beneath his feet-

"Wait a minute."

Urie looked down at his feet, and at the thin gravel layer creating a trail stretching to his right below himself. Paying more attention now, he heard the soft crackle of torches placed on the sides of a few cherry trees, presumably to keep the trail lit at night. An expensive feat for the Silver Wilds, and difficult for a few nations outside of the Wilds as well.

With this being the first sign of civilization he's seen in some time, Urie decided it would be best to follow it. As he walked along the trail, he noticed how the trees had changed, becoming far more organized than natural and looking trimmed in places.

Either someone has way too much time on their hands, or he's found the source of the glow he's been looking for.

Eventually, he came upon a small wall of cobblestone, presumably to keep wandering monsters out, surrounding a section of a hill with a cliff overseeing the sea. Behind it, fields of crops irrigated and tended to with clear efficiency were broken up by various tree gardens, with the fields being elevated in tiers around him. He guessed that it was both an aesthetic choice and because the hilly terrain made it harder to do the normal fields he expected from Villagers. Still, the amount of food being grown…

Someone could feed an entire village with all this, He thought, as he found the first actual structures. Despite the fact that there was so much food being grown, there were very few actual residences in this… settlement?

The first he found was a small log house, with a small pen of pigs behind it. A chimney stretched above the house, spewing smoke from inside it, but it seemed like nobody opened the front door in at least a month. What he found most odd was the way it was constructed. The walls were made of tree logs, laid to intersect each other.

"What culture is this village?" Urie pondered out loud. "There isn't a Taiga anywhere near here, but I'd expect something like this from them. Are these settlers from the Pinelands?"

The second building was much larger, two stories, lacked a roof for some reason, and was constructed a bit more in-line with what he expected from this region. Oak logs on the corners, long planks stretching out across them, larger windows than he'd expect, but generally seems to fit in with the typical Plainsman construction method. It even had a cobblestone base, with windows for some reason…

Does it have a basement?

As for the rest of the house, it seems like it was unfinished, judging by the missing planks near the top, so whoever lived here must still be around. It had a porch on the front, and the back led out onto a deck that stretched out past the edge of the cliffside. Whoever lives here must be expecting guests too, as there were already tables and chairs set out near the deck's railing.

Tying Boor to one of the nearby cherry trees, Urie approached the front door of the larger house. The oak door didn't have clear enough glass to let him see inside, but he assumed that somebody must be inside it.

"Guess I'll find out." He said, giving the door a series of knocks, before waiting in silence.

For a while.

He knocked again, but was interrupted on the third knock by the door opening-

What is on her head!?

Standing before him was a pale young woman with a mess of golden… hair? What in the world? She wasn't dressed in any sort of clothing he recognized, some sort of tunic with a strange drab coat lazily thrown over her arms and a pair of simple pants covered her instead.

"Uh… Hello?" Urie managed to say. For someone with such rarely used clothing and hair in the place that it usually isn't, especially in such a large amount, the rest of her was… entrancing, to say the least. Up there with some of the nobility he saw in Accitonia.

Then she spoke… something. Urie couldn't make sense of it. It wasn't in Common, and it didn't sound like Enchantment to him, and she certainly didn't look like one of those fabled "Pigmen". So what is she saying?

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're saying." Urie said with a frown. "Could you say that again?"

The (admittedly poor) attempt at getting her to say it again in Common got her to say something else in what had to be another incomprehensible language. What perplexed him the most about this situation was that not even distant continents speak those languages! Or anything other than Common!

So where did she pick these languages up? What lands did she come from where people speak in those ways? He thought, while his confusion began to appear visibly on his face. The woman must've noticed, and let out a sigh and muttered what he could only assume was a curse of some kind.

He shook his head and caught a glimpse of the setting sun off in the distance. Since he couldn't leave this isolated area in time to find a village to rest at, he would have to try and get accommodations from the strange woman before him. He did his best attempt at miming sleeping, which the woman seems to have understood and pointed him towards the other house.

Was she… alone?

Well, not like she can surprise him too much from here on out.

…Right?