Published at 11th of December 2023 12:56 pm

Chapter 3.1 Implications

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Irwyn awoke with a start, his heart beating out of his chest as words beyond mere words rang in his ears. His body convulsed as his mind struggled to catch up with a memory of the vision. Just the recollection hurt. His ears rang from merely recalling what had been spoken and his very being shook from the hubris of hearing.

For they had been words of an Aspect. Not of a broken remnant, not a left-over epitaph, but spoken in the fullness of their power.

Irwyn was torn between majesty and terror. Confusion and uncertain denial as he put his thoughts into better order. And the conclusions he reached seemed almost impossible. Because he remembered the Oath, spoken to Lumen herself. Vividly recalled the words:

To abandon all creation; to form nothing new that would last; to deny his very desire to make.

But that had not been sworn by a mortal thief with a bit of talent. With a shaking breath and trepidation, Irwyn sat up in the bed. It was all velvet and silk, soft and meticulously prepared - much better than a prisoner had any right to expect - but those sensations passed by him as he stood up. There were books strewn across every other surface they could be put - most of them he didn’t yet have a chance to read yet - but he ignored them. He needed a piece of paper and something to write… Which he didn’t have. He had no use for those before, therefore he had not asked for them. Frantic he began to pace. If he left the room it might alert his watchers and he wanted to do this in privacy… but he needed to see if he was wrong.

So he walked to a nearby shelf - all carved mahogany - and cut the side of it out, earning him a mostly flat wooden square. He sat back down on his bed and stared at it for a moment… then he made a knife of solid flames and let it cut into the wood, drawing as straight of a line in it as was possible.

When he looked again he impossibly found a zig-zagging curve with two distinct gaps that couldn’t have been made with a single cut. Not surprised Irwyn reconfirmed the second thing he knew: He moved the knife again but this time did not focus on the material. Instead, he focused on the knife being an attack. A weapon rather than a chisel, moving it through the wood because it was in its way rather than with any regard for it. A shift of perspective and intention.

And it mattered. Irwyn had noticed at one point that despite being unable to even cut a straight line he suspiciously could leave them after battle without meaning to. That had led to this discovery. That such mental gymnastics mattered. If he was not attempting to create anything, he would not be stopped. And now he had a wording to examine as to why.

‘Form nothing new that would last,’ the words went, but what did ‘new’ mean? Was it up to interpretation? An objective meaning enforced by a dead Aspect’s will? Or perhaps the wording did not matter in any way - what were mere words before omnipotence?

But there were loopholes, clearly. Assuming it was indeed the very same Oath, Irwyn could still wield spells. He had even invented his own incantations and could maintain magical images without them distorting as long as he kept the magic under his control. Most likely, those were exceptions under the clause of nothing new that would last. Was then all magic considered as something pre-existing? Or perhaps he simply had not reached a point of skill where he could truly invent anything. Maybe he was just deluding himself by entertaining these questions at all – they each supposed something impossible as true after all.

A voice at the back of his head whispered he might not necessarily want to know the answer. The one at the forefront screamed that he had to understand. So, he looked back down at the board, took a shaky breath, and wrote again. He did not focus on the letters or the parts but instead thought only of the whole. He had no practice with writing strokes but his precision at magic more than made up for it. Still, he did not dare look down until it was done. When his eyes stared, they found a single word, completely legible:

Lumen

It shone in Irwyn’s eyes as well as magical senses. Its light was inescapable. Names were a fixture of reality after all, especially those of the Aspects even long after their demise. So, they could not be considered something new. At least that had been the idea that seemed most correct. Irwyn gulped and continued, writing once again.

Ignis

The all-father’s Name burned a hole into existence. He had seen those two Names written down before and it hadn’t been anything like this. Those had been just mundane words written in ink. But Irwyn could not carve mundane words which, ironically, seemed to elevate them into something more - stripped of the mortal concept of mere writing. Or perhaps it was just because it was him in particular writing them. Something fundamentally different done subconsciously.

Irwyn had never attempted to write them down before after all. Why would he? When he had first discovered his incapacity to so much as draw, much less write, it was the last thing on his mind to try if the Aspects’ Names might be different. In fact, as far as he remembered he had discovered his handicap before even first reading the Book of the Name.

But those thoughts were a distraction. He realized he was stalling in excitement and fear. Yes, he now knew that whatever bound him seemed to be identical to the Oath he had seen in the dream. But it was not definite proof he had been the same person. Because the implications of that were so massive Irwyn wanted to deny it was a possibility at all. But he had come far enough that he had to know. So he wrote again:

Ignis Lumen

Different color, different Name. A son, graciously granted such boon by his parents. It burned and glowed and raged and wept. Even staring at it written Irwyn could almost feel the grief and fury choking him. But there was more… unwilling acceptance, hard-earned; determination, to not crumble; despair, at inevitability; and more he could not quite parse. Not yet.

Intense emotions washed over him, unbidden, uncontrollable. Impressions based on memories he could not recall. By all means, the surge should have made him flinch away, then smother his consciousness. But it did not overwhelm him for a single reason. He reached towards the Name, cautiously, expectantly, and touched it with the tip of his finger. Reality seemed to intensify. The barrage of immortal thoughts multiplied in strength yet still it could not move Irwyn. For in that moment, he was too engrossed in clairvoyance to notice. In absolute, unbreakable clarity about the nature of everything that came with the Name. Because he realized what it all was:

HIS

All the tension left his body as it started breathing again. His eyes stared in detached wonder at the piece of smoldering wood. Then with an afterthought, he turned it to ash. The strange tranquility he had found himself in began to fade as his mental state gradually returned to normal. Irwyn collapsed back into his bed, taking quick ragged breaths. He did not know how he had been so calm just a few moments prior because at the moment his heart was trying to leap out of his chest with herculean effort. He was trembling to the point it was difficult to move.

His

He felt it now when he focused. Incomprehensibly far away, utterly out of reach but there nonetheless: A Name. His Name. Ignis Lumen.

And it was so completely impossible that part of him still denied it. The rest of him was torn between excitement and fear. How would that be even possible? As far as he knew a mortal body could not support a Name in the first place… perhaps that was why it felt unreachable. But that was the smallest of the questions that kept surging into his head every moment.

How was it even remotely possible, he asked himself for what felt like the fifth time. As far as Irwyn had known, the son of Light and Flame was still very much alive somewhere out there. Now his very existence was proof – or at least an implication - of the opposite. What even was his existence? Was he human? He felt like one… for the most part. Perhaps some quirks of his personality could be explained by his newfound nature… or he might just be overthinking it.

He tried very hard to put his thoughts out of the spiral as his shaking and breaths calmed. One step at a time. What did he know? That he was somehow the firstborn Star. How? Not the slightest idea, no matter how deep he searched. Why? Well, there was at least something in why.

Namely, his ‘scrambled’ Fate which people kept mentioning to him. From the fae, through Bhaak and then every other diviner he had ever stumbled upon. Yet it made no sense. Sure, it could be something about his nature being disruptive on its own but that didn’t quite fit. Someone would have called it just natural resilience if it was that, or at least suggested it. Definitely an assumption, given that Irwyn wasn’t a diviner but it seemed to him that whatever blocked him from being read was deliberate. A spell cast by a being of great power which had stuck onto Irwyn through all this while, like there had been a purpose that explicitly required that kind of subterfuge.

That only raised more questions and no answers. Everything he could think of was just going back in circles to him having no idea what was really happening, it seemed. After several such cycles, he managed to calm down enough to think in a different direction. Since he had essentially no way of uncovering the truth as he was, the more important matter was what it changed for him in the moment. And frankly, the answer was: Not much.

Earthshattering revelations aside, it didn’t actually change anything about Irwyn’s current predicaments. Namely, his recent incarceration.

For the past several days he had lived in a luxurious guest house with full waiting staff and no expense catered cuisine… it didn’t change that the ‘please do not leave’ it came with was enforced by eager hitmen. He also had absolutely no illusions that if not for Elizabeth he would have been rotting in a lightless dungeon somewhere, probably quite literally.

House Blackburg had a matter of dispute, as she had put it so formally back in Abonisle. Irwyn had expected that to be something chaotic as people figured out what that meant. That had been, in hindsight, idiotic. House Blackburg had a history spanning to the founding of the Duchy Federation which could have been up to several thousand years ago. Of course, this was far from the first time the heights of influence butted heads together. To the point there was - as Irwyn had been informed - an established procedure.

Hence his de facto house arrest. He had to admit, Elizabeth hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said the nobility of the Black Duchy and those they trusted tended to be blunt. When the young heiress had warned him there would be a number of hitmen ready to dispose of him in case of any ‘escape attempt’ he had expected normal clothes, hidden in plain sight kind of business. Instead, the guest house was literally surrounded by serious men in black suits quite literally forming a fence around the property line in shifts every hour of the day.

It was posturing, mostly. The majority of them weren’t even mages as far as Irwyn could tell, nor carrying anything that posed any realistic threat to him. It did look imposing and Irwyn could completely see how it would make someone nervous. Thankfully, his years of living as a bottom feeder had taught him to not let a constant looming threat of death ruin his day, reminder or not. Not to mention he knew the real threat was somewhere else.

Five presences, just a few meters beneath the ground floor’s tiles. Not nearly on the same level as Dervish - if what he had heard about a Lich War likely sparking up any such ‘strategic assets’ would be quite busy - but seemingly conception mages nonetheless. Irwyn doubted he could escape from one, five honestly seemed like an overkill which he chose to take as a compliment, though he had been struggling to even estimate how powerful exactly they were through their own measures.

He could feel them more acutely now, actually. His power had most likely deepened once again after the vision. The issue was he couldn’t really test it right away, despite itching to. Not at the moment at least. He was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, under watch. Elizabeth had warned him to assume someone was always listening unless she explicitly told him otherwise. It likely wasn’t constant since said someone had to cast the magic and be subtle about it and that they also had to rest from time to time - hopefully at least given that they might have seen his erratic outburst after waking up otherwise. But having someone watch him while he slept would be pointless. Frankly, observing him was probably pointless, period. He was not going to slip up and admit to anything while there was any risk of being overheard. Not that he knew how much that would even matter since he wasn’t really taking an active part in saving himself.

Straightforward politics again. Rather than being subtly hindered or whatnot, he had been flatly told that he had no standing to participate in a matter of dispute of House Blackburg, despite being the subject of said issue. Arguments against such were not successful, which in itself told Irwyn that things were not looking great. Any hope of Elizabeth having the pull to just get the whole problem dismissed outright had dissipated after that.

Seeing as he was fully awake by that point Irwyn sighed and stood up, getting on a change of clothes. He lit the room with a thought a clock quickly revealed it was not that long before dawn. The bedroom did not have a window - which was the main reason he had chosen it from the several options - so no one probably saw the heavily damaged shelf Irwyn was looking at now. In hindsight… that hadn’t been the best decision. But in that feverish state, he had no doubts at the time. Now… now it could be rather awkward.

Looking at the carefully carved mahogany Irwyn was quite confident it was on the expensive side. Would… anyone want him to pay for it? He immediately chuckled to himself at the thought. Money really wasn’t an issue that should be on his mind when his very life hung in the balance. But the clean cut looked a bit suspicious. Might as well cover it up, Irwyn decided. With a thought he sent a surge of flames to incinerate a big chunk of the whole shelf as if he was swinging a massive burning fist, hiding the more precise cutout.

The five mages below the ground level stirred. They certainly felt that given Irwyn had not tried to hide the magic. He had no good explanation for why he had done it but thankfully he didn’t need to explain himself as the mages observing in ‘secret’ wouldn’t question him. He would just let them figure something out themselves - it would most likely be better for him than whatever awkward excuse he came up with. He picked up a bell that he had left on a nearby drawer and rang it. There was no sound but a spark of magic coursed from it to the paired enchantment a few rooms away. Not a dozen seconds later he heard steps approaching. He could not feel the person since they were not a mage as they quickly arrived and knocked at his door.

“Enter,” Irwyn allowed and the maid let herself in. She did not speak a word and instead waited while glancing around the room as Irwyn pointed at the shelf. “I apologize for the mess, if it could please be cleaned up, as well as an early breakfast.”

All Irwyn received was a nod and a quick departure. It had been… strange and frankly embarrassing to have waiting staff so very ready to follow his orders. They were also competent and completely willing to follow his preferences. Therefore, Irwyn had decided to… dissociate by asking the staff assigned to him to speak as little as possible. It made the experience significantly less jarring for him by eliminating most dialogue, not to mention less tiring.

Not that he would forget that they were still very much there and listening. Watching. Sliding into the background wasn’t what he was best at but child thieves all learned to do it. He promised to not let the newfound luxury get into his head and forget about them as he left his room behind heading for the dining hall a floor below. The guest house was honestly needlessly large for just him. The damn table he sat at was large enough to host a feast. Instead, it was used to serve him eggs. Extravagance and luxury, though not quite on the level he had seen Elizabeth indulge with magical cuisine and casual transposition. It was somewhere in between ‘strange’ and ‘I could get used to this’. Though after the vision Irwyn was feeling a bit too broody to ponder it. He realized that he was feeling much more twitchy than he had thought about testing out his new limits.

After breakfast he returned to his room, finding the remnants of the shelf already removed and replaced with an almost identical one. While at it the staff had also done some cleaning, including the books he had haphazardly strewn about. They somehow managed to make them look sorted and kempt without even moving them from the spots on the ground they had been or the order they had been stacked.

He continued where had had left off in ‘Testaments of Saints’, a thick book full of stories and anecdotes about ancient immortals who had fought in the original Great Crusade against all necromancy right after the Aspects’ deaths. Most of it was second or even third-hand exaggerations though some parts were actual quotes or interviews with beings far older than history. For one, a dialogue with their literal Sun, which had been a fascinating transcription read, and made Irwyn realize that even Stars could be brash assholes - though it was difficult to call it unjustified in the context. The part he was on was particularly dry though which made it difficult to make any progress as his itch grew worse by the hour.

He was very glad when a maid had found him to inform Irwyn of visitors.

“Her young Ladyship, Elizabeth von Blackburg,” one of the maids announced with utmost formality as Elizabeth walked through the front double doors as if it hadn’t happened on the daily. What was more interesting though was that she was not alone this time. “And Ambassador Woetin from the Duchy of Red.”

Said ambassador was immediately distinct just by the fact that the man was completely covered in plate armor. Every inch of their body was covered by a layer of crimson-tinted metal to the point Irwyn did not see a single slightest gap, very much including the helmet having no eye or mouth holes. Other than that abnormality decorations were scarce. Not even a cloak or a bit of cloth, just metal. Hot metal, Irwyn could feel. Probably scalding. He wasn’t sure if it was the vision or just the metal itself that he could feel that much without even trying. The material was blatantly attuned to Flame magic in some way after all.

Not that he would let it distract him from the man himself. There was a clear air of conception - the man felt like a thousand miles walked in raging flames, hot enough the ground evaporated underfoot with each step - but there was something else as well… like… like… the man was made of Flames rather than flesh and blood. instead of feeling the magic of a person, they felt like they were only magic beneath the metal shell. Irwyn had never felt anything like it before.

“And you must be Irwyn,” the man spoke in a deep voice as soon as they were past the door, extending a hand.

“Yes, I am, ambassador, though I must admit I was not expecting you,” Irwyn nodded and shook it. The metal was indeed quite hot - even more so than Irwyn had guessed by feeling from a distance - though Irwyn obviously did not burn. Instead, he threw Elizabeth a questioning look.

“It might be best we relocate,” she met his eyes. “To the dining hall.”

“Yes,” Irwyn nodded without hesitation and led the way. By the time they arrived less than half a minute later refreshments were already in place. More of an anticipation than speed thing really, given that it was a pattern for Elizabeth to choose the dining hall for their discussions. As soon as all three of them were seated Elizabeth waved her hand and a black cube appeared in it. City Black had the Duchy’s second Temporal Beacon which meant Elizabeth’s wondrous dress worked just as well as it had in Abonisle. Irwyn felt the slightest twitch of magic and then all sound cut out.

“We can talk freely now, though we are still visible,” she announced and Irwyn let out a slight sigh eyeing the ambassador. Still visible, which meant lip reading was completely viable. Besides the ambassador whose face was obscured, he needed to assume their observers would still know every word spoken… which was probably the point.

“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, ambassador, though I have to admit I am a bit puzzled,” he admitted.

“My reason for being here is quite simple,” the man in full plate armor shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling back down. “Young Ladyship Elizabeth has been trying to convince me to support you in the upcoming trial.”

“Trial,” Irwyn repeated the word, suppressing a slight tremor as his eyes turned towards Elizabeth. “So there is now consensus about how to decide my fate?”

“As I said yesterday, there has been some dispute as to what set of rules should apply,” Elizabeth nodded, though she did not look happy. “Ultimately both sides will get to present their case to the Duke in two days' time who will then decides the party in the right.”

“Your father,” Irwyn pointed out the obvious, raising an eyebrow.

“My father,” Elizabeth nodded. “My father who is dedicated to impartiality to a fault. He has refused to so much as meet with me in person since I returned from Abonisle. We will not find any help there.”

“And is my case good in impartial eyes?” Irwyn asked.

“It is a common misconception to think that political impartiality is the same as the mundane use of the word,” the ambassador interjected. “It is not an equation of justice or truth. It is merely a question of influence. To be impartial is to seek the path that will have the judge beyond reproach, rather than necessarily seek justice. I am afraid that if you expect a fair trial you will be quite disappointed.”

“I would have already guessed that much,” Irwyn nodded. “I am under no illusion that might doesn’t make right. I am just wondering on which side of it I am.”

“That would be a question for young Ladyship, though her tight lips do not speak well,” the ambassador shrugged again, and indeed, Elizabeth was visibly biting her lower lip. “Though I may not have the most insight, I might be able to provide some additional weight for your side.”

“And what would that be?” Irwyn continued speaking since Elizabeth was choosing to remain silent.

“An endorsement, of course,” the man nodded. “I am the ambassador to the Duchy of Red and have the Archduke’s confidence. Convince me and I can have it known that the Archduke would prefer you live.”

“And that will make a difference?” Irwyn raised an eyebrow. The Duchy of Red was quite literally on the other end of the Federation from Black. He had doubts about how much influence its ruler held all the way here.

“Make no mistake, the Archduke, as the title implies, is a Named being,” the ambassador explained. “And only a fool would seek to displease them for no good reason, that is worth more than you might realize to people who might need to deal with that small grudge a century in the future. It could tilt the scale in your favor.”

“And what would you, or the Archduke, want from me in exchange,” Irwyn asked. There was always give and take and given that Elizabeth was not stopping them he assumed she wanted him to make this deal.

“The Archduke is no greedy old monster,” the ambassador chuckled. “From the young and talented he asks for nothing but a more positive disposition should you meet in the future.”

“But you are not the Archduke,” Irwyn noted.

“I agree with the Archduke’s policy of lending a helping hand to the worthy,” the ambassador nodded and Irwyn felt something change within the man. And it was fascinating. Beneath the armor, they still felt like pure magical fire but now that Flame was coursing. Trembling in passing waves. It kept its shape for the most part but it was vibrating. Flowing as though following the beating of a heart. And from it, Irwyn could feel one distinct emotion: Excitement. “The only question that remains is whether you are one of them.”

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