Sovereign

The low hissing of air escaping a confined space pounded in Isala’s ears as the chamber began to unseal. It was an almost rhythmic sound, lining up with her observation of time spent within, and it being something she heard on a day to day basis. The air escaping, followed by her standing up, then opening her eyes. Air. Stand. Eyes. Door.

The door had already moved out of her way by the time she got to it. On schedule. She stretched her bare body out as she emerged into the primary area of her chambers, to avoid anything from cramping up after her usual night in a metal tomb she used to keep her power from triggering in her sleep and wasting her reservoir. A few close calls involving particular dreams caused her to commission this piece, and her position delivered it with potence. She’d noticed feeling stronger since she began her nights within the simple cubical chamber, lined with a magical absorbing metal and a vertical bed within. Her advisors had thought it a bad idea, considering the lack of her equipment or anything protective she could have within while using it, but she had fired back with confidence that if someone broke in there and survived all other defenses, her clothing and equipment wouldn’t make much of a difference. They’d deferred to her choice.

She outstretched her hands, feeling slight cracks down her arms as she held them upwards, and tapped her wellspring, a sensation akin to submerging in a pleasantly warm pool of water. Her robes flew out from their storage and wrapped themselves around her body in an instant, their magical properties flaring into her knowledge and comprehension. They were one of a kind, a gift from the blue caste upon her ascension to the throne, expanding her reserves and sharpening her mind, according to them. She hadn’t noticed much of a difference, but perhaps that was thanks to her reservoir being truly and effectively endless even before the gift. Still, a nice gesture, and the emanation of power which came from the blue gold and white garments seemingly by the sheer nature of what they were, a magical item stronger then most people would ever see in their lifetimes, and they’d someone become a symbol of her centuries long rein, something the blue caste would use to maintain relevance anytime their necessity was called into question. A staff slipped itself into her hands next, an artifact which dated back even before she’d been crowned, a hefty weapon barely liftable in any hands besides hers, in which it was lighter then air. It was made of wood of what she’d been told was a living tree, and tipped with a crystal charged with mana, a focus which to channel her reservoir through. Next to slip itself on was three rings. One was her wedding ring, a silver band imbued with a diamond, which she still wore out of spite and for its magical properties of flight. Another was a golden band inlaid with a ruby, a spell storing gem which contained one of the few apocrothos spells still able to be cast, something which she kept close to avoid…incidents. The final one was a simple though odd quartz ring, which was shined so she could see her reflection refracted in it. A backup focus, and an important reminder of where she’d come from. Penultimately, her spellbook attached to her side, a tome which appeared to be the size of the average magical volume, but was also enchanted to instead contain the volume of her entire lifes research, much bigger on the inside then it was on the outside. Every feasible spell and magical feat she knew how to perform was recorded within, and it was somewhat vital to her abilities. In addition to its magical proportions, it was indestructible and unopenable by anyone but herself. Necessary measures.

Finally, came her crown. Composed of a mix of gold and platinum, with six colors of gems, one for each of the castes, and a diamond to represent her role. It was magical as well, though it’s properties were all over the place. Each caste had forged its gem, which made it one of the most powerful artifacts in existence to be forged within Phirine’s walls. Anything from storms of fire, to resurrection from the dead, to negation of existing magic up to the highest levels, if you could name it, the crown could probably do it, drawing on reservoirs that weren’t even hers.

All items called to her, she moved for her mirror on the other side of the room, a massive gold framed object with an almost glittering surface. As she stood before it, tapping her reservoirs once more to cast a brief glamour over herself to make herself look as imposing and authoritarian as possible, she spoke the command phrase.

“Jewel of the Triumvirate. ”

As she spoke the all too true phrase, the surface of the mirror rippled and morphed, the face of her secondary advisor Trombly looked back at her, slightly tilted since the corresponding mirror was of the hand variety. A fair faced elf which had served her five centuries, the slight signs of age on him was ever lessened due to his elvish nature, hair still blonde and straight cut in an orderly fashioned, and his golden robes indicated him as apart of her personal chosen.

“The assembly is ready for your arrival whenever you wish to present yourself, my Queen.”

She considered, as always, being a bit late, just to spite the squabbling castes only a few hundred feet below her. But, unfortunately, she had something of a reputation to uphold. Her mental clock said she had a little over a minute.

“Understood Trombly. Prepare to herald my descent, and have the silencing array ready. I expect I’ll need it.”

“It will be done my Queen.” He bowed his head, then deactivated the mirror. Isala turned, and headed for the door, the glyphs on it thrumming though not triggering thanks to her design of them. The door led into a small circular chamber with a variety of magical symbols on the walls as if indicating options. She outreached her magic once more, manifesting a simple telekinetic spell, a false nonexistent hand laying itself onto the symbol which read in Old Aulian “The Children”

The room glowed, and she closed her eyes to not get spots in them, as she seamlessly was transported somewhere else.

She opened her eyes again, and she saw the walls all around her, the darkness mixing with the light pouring in from below, along with the silence of the area she was now in mixing with the cacophony of voices from below. She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes again and trying to isolate any running theme of the voices below, or to see if it was just an endless tide of squabble and foolishness.

It was naturally the latter, since this was the castes she was talking about. Her internal clock said ten seconds left. She slowly drew on both her ring and her reservoir, taking out a metaphorical cupped hands worth of magic into herself to fuel and focus the rings properties, and to obscure it from it’s creator, another act done out of spite rather then true sense. When previously she was simply hovering, now she had direction, slowly lowering herself down into the light and sound filled room like she did on routine at this point. The multicolored sections of the room would be blindingly disorganized to anyone who hadn’t spent centuries in this assembly, and thus intrinsically understood the incomprehensible ways the mages of the city had chosen to organize themselves in the assembly. She picked out the red caste in a line through green and blue, yellow cutting through red in a squiggled line as if drawn by a child, grey having actually stayed together, and purple encircling them all in a likely very petty move and something which would be changed the moment the other castes felt like filing the rearrangement motion.

As she floated down to her platform, a floating balcony composed of golden light mixed in with the colors of the castes, Trombly stood in front of a pair of royal guards dressed in sea green armor. The elf shouted, his voice amplified by magic and the simple nature of the massive room causing a slight reverbing echo throughout.

“All silent in the Assembly for the descent of the High Wizard Queen of Phirine, Archmagi Isala Matadele!” His voice commanded respect, that and his status around Phirine meant no one was keen on getting on his bad side. The Assembly for likely the only time that day, went silent, as Isala made the final stage of her descent, gently and gracefully making little sound upon her landing on the ‘solid’ ground of the balcony. She surveyed the room with a cold stare, her green eyes finding themselves somehow acutely visible to each person in the crowd who thought their whispered conversations were going unheard. When all were truly silent, she straightened herself, cleared her throat, then began to speak, once more taking a cupped hand full out of her reservoir for more glamour and to project her voice across the room.

“Good morning. Where do we stand?”

*The cacophony began to start again, until Isala slammed her staff down, using it to activate silence projectors, silencing all in the room briefly, before she released.

“We shall do this in a set order, since you all are too childish to take your turns like sound minded people. Red Caste. What do you have to propose or report.”

The primary speaker for the Red Caste, a lizard humanoid with fiery orange scales, a perpetually flaming two pronged spear slung over his back and a red robe with an eye on the top by the name of Juxis took the primary platform afforded to the group, also magically projecting his voice with a slight bit of warm flare to it. She negated it with the crown the moment she realized what it was, being a charisma enhancer, but she almost commended the effort. Almost.

Without missing a beat at the loss of his spell, he began to speak.

“We have desired to begin construction on a new grand design for three and a half years now, and request approval for an Alpha Crystal to be used for the project.”

“Denied.” Isala said, for the fifty sixth time now.

“-and if not that, then we request the blue caste be asked to cooperate in acquiring an alternate power source.”

“Do you intend to pay them for their services?” She inquired with a twinge of annoyance.

“Freely and fairly my Queen.” He fired back.

“Then your proposal is granted, on the condition that any payment is approved by my branch first.”

This elicited a set of groans and gripes from one corner of the mass of people, the ones wearing blue specifically.

“Anything else from the Red Caste today?” She said, ignoring them.

“Not at this time, my queen” Juxis said, seeming to have gotten what he wanted as he stepped down from the pedestal.

“Very well. Does the blue caste have anything helpful to propose or report?” She turned her head over to the section of people still seeming annoyed. One, a high elf with a staff and chain mail armor stepped up to the primary pedestal for the blue caste. She knew them as Phran, not a common speaker, though she couldn’t locate the normal speaker in the crowd either.

“While the previous ruling is regrettable, looking past it, we do have a report. The city is under an epidemic of magical abuses as of late, and we request something be done above it. We are the city of Phirine, the magical capitol of the world, we shouldn’t be overrun with cases like these”

Isala raised an eyebrow, the first she was hearing of this. “Give me an example of the highest profile case.”

“I could go on all day. We have a botched super solider programs subjects running amuck and their creator still at large, an imaginator in the underground, and a group calling themselves the orange caste trying to build a apocrothos generator. The grey castes protections and divinations have been insufficient and we motion for their immediate removal and execution.” They said this calmly, despite its outlandish nature.

“Denied. I will have order in my city however. I’ll deal with the generator personally the moment we adjourn, the other two I expect the purple caste to collaborate with the grey caste to to deal with the other-“

A purple caste member raised a hand to object. She gestured towards him with her staff.

“If we are to help, we request an incendiary cyclone wand from the red caste to deal with the imaginator.”

“Motion granted.”

A disgruntled look from Juxis and his sect.

“Anything else from the blue caste?” She said, eyes casting over back to the elf. They shook their head.

“Not at this time.”

“Very well. Green caste. Anything to propose or report?”

A well regaled human in simple cloths took the podium. She knew his name to be Halamar.

“A proposition. Our normal speaker, Caliban, is our east dealing with the growing Noctis issue in Zariya. We motion for him to be recalled in favor of a split effort between the castes. It is unfair for our largest asset to be taken up fighting a foreign dignitaries war while the rest shoulder no burden.”

“Motion denied. The Exemplar requested Caliban by name to deal with the threat. We believe Noctis may be consorting with demons, which if true, leaves him best equipped to deal with the issue. That, and it wouldn’t bode well to have an allies city be taken by rebels beneath them, and disrupt the balance of power in the region.”

“Then we motion for the other houses to have to contribute as well. If this issue is as large reaching as you say, then it seems only fair.”

“Motion denied. It won’t be a good look. We must appear as if just one of us is enough to turn the tide of conflicts.”

“Then we motion for greater compensation, if we are being used for the purposes of image of the entire city.”

“Motion denied. You are being rewarded fairly, and Caliban was happy to go.”

“That will be all.” The human sat down without another word, expression still neutral.

At least he was a good sport. “Yellow caste, anything to propose or report?”

“We propose to adjourn, because we have better things to do then to sit here and barely get anything done” An unknown speaker called out from the crowd.

“Denied. Enjoy your tongue being attached to your forehead for the next few hours however.” Isala said this coldly as she used more of her reserves in a personal act of spite, a muffled scream being silenced by a projector moments after it escaped his mouth.

“Grey caste. Anything to propose or report.” Moving on as if nothing had happened.

A female lionkin stood up onto her castes podium, in full plate armor without a helmet, a sword bigger then most people present strapped to her back. Her name was May, and she was normally not big on speaking, which meant it was likely important.

“Potential portals across the east. Soon after the start of the Noctis conflict in Zariya, our precognitive mages began to pick up traces of abyssal corruption. I had submitted this report to you previously, and Caliban was dispatched. I am here to state to the assembly that the problem has worsened. The corruption has started to impose physical changes to areas in the Central States, and the border with the Kingdom. If they become something full scale, then we may have issues.”

She paused, considering, before responding. Actually valuing the Grey Caste’s opinion.

“Should we trust The Exemplar and his men to handle the situation?”

“The Kingdom is our direct neighbor to the North. If they fall to corruption, either us or the Central States are next. We can hold off, the states cannot, unless they form themselves together. If they fall, it could domino the entire continent, save for us and the Dwarves.”

“Could, being the key word. How likely is it that the Kingdom can repel this corruption, with Caliban’s help?”

“Likely. But it’s not impossible for them to fail.”

She nodded slowly.

“Remain on standby. We will monitor the situation more carefully, and if things go poorly, we will dispatch the Grey Caste. Anything else to report?” She had her cities image to consider. Just sending one archmage provided the view she wanted, that the city’s will was indomitable, that one of their mages could spell doom for adversaries. Sending anything more could compromise that. She also didn’t want to reach too far. The city was on thin ice as it was, considering the strong coalition of powers on the Continent.

“Nothing, my Queen.” She said with a bow. Seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“Very well. Purple caste, anything to propose or report?” She said, looking to the encircling group as May stepped down from her podium.

Stepping up next was a well dressed green skinned goblin, wearing full formal wear all colored purple, and a purple top hat served to complete the look. A wand he’d likely need to hold in two hands was slung over his back. His name was Zrokatilan, and he was one of the most powerful destruction mages the purple caste had, and was pretty much the pinnacle of what the group strove for.

“We propose full apocrothos access”

“Denied.” She said sharply. The purple caste had started every meeting like this for the past seventy years.

“Then we report to confirm that our suspicions about the uprising out east are true. Theosien is behind it, however, he is working for someone else.”

“Caliban will deal with him and whoever else is necessary.”

“We propose to send him a stockpile of scrolls nonetheless.”

“Granted. Send the list of the requested ones to me and I’ll approve it.”

She’d part with a few scrolls if it meant bringing one of few traitors to Phirine down. Theosien was strong…but Caliban was most definitely stronger. And even if there was some kind of greater power, he had The Exemplar’s help. Nonetheless, the group gathered called Noctis was certainly problematic, and perhaps additional support would do the green caste’s archmagus well.

“We also propose a vote of no confidence in your leadership.”

That one was new. She was speechless for a solid two seconds. She couldn’t actually deny that motion, by the rules of the assembly.

“Fine. A vote, then, who votes no confidence?”

She cast her voice out to the room.

The blue and purple caste almost entirety raised their hand. A few higher up greens did, and a fair few reds, grey and yellow didn’t raise a single hand.

“And who votes against no confidence?”

Most of green, some of red, and yellow and grey raised their hands.

“That matter is settled again. Am I to be privy to what garnered this affair?”

She said, glaring at Zrokatilan, the goblin remaining resolute and neutrally calm.

“You have been levying your power inappropriately according to some. I intend to be adding a second entry to my frequently asked questions. Other representatives of the assembly, I encourage you to come find me and we can discuss our grievances in accordance with each other, and hopefully we can all get what we want.” He said to the room, before stepping down from the podium with a smug energy.

Isala took a moment to calm, then spoke out to the room.

“Then, I shall conclude this meeting of the assembly with this note: I don’t believe I have d one anything to any of you outside of refute frankly rather silly requests. The ones that haven’t been childishly simple grabs for power have been strains on the cities resources or causing more greater harm then good in any net gain. I have done nothing not befitting my position, and anyone who thinks otherwise is recommended to consult the history books and see for themselves. We are consistently in crisis for centuries now, and for those circumstances I feel as if I have done remarkably well, in protecting both my investments, all of your investments, and the city of Phirine’s investments. The city is intact, you are are intact, and magic is intact. All of these things reflect great success, not to mention the expansion of all of the aforementioned things. If you truly think all of that is worth nothing, I’d recommend listening to the power hungry well dressed goblin. If not, brush him off like the glutton he is. Assembly is adjourned, thank you, and good day.”

She turned, and began to walk away, her impudent compatriots bickering and shouting at each other the entire way she made. She didn’t get angry at them, not anymore, but this was the closest they’d been in nearly half a century. She really did hope this wouldn’t go anywhere, she didn’t want to have to deal with vote of no confidence proceedings every meeting, especially since the castes might just be spiteful enough to work together just to oust her and replace her with someone who would fulfill all of their wants via the cities vaults and values simply by virtue of being afraid of the caste’s power to hurt them without anyone noticing.

Which is why she couldn’t allow it. The caste’s run rampant would destroy the city. And her objective of clawing her way back into security of position meant starting with a bunch of nobodies trying to build an apocrothos.

She materialized in the undercity. No one actually lived down here anymore, they’d seen it as a barbaric thing to force on anyone, living underground. Now, it was mostly for the purposes of mining out the crystals beneath the city, or, in this case, hiding illicit magical artifacts and constructions.

This one was especially dangerous as well, being an apocrothos generator. She wore a ring containing one such spell, the pinnacle of mortal magic as it was known. Apocrothos spells could level countries, darken the skies near permanently, raise an entire nation as undead, tear massive holes in the planes, and much, much more. They were originally cast by the liches of old, using their entire reservoirs and stored powers, and they tended to drain even them to the point of near exhaustion. However, no mage alive could still cast an apocrothos from their own reserves. She even only had one, and it was simply contained in her ring, she hadn’t cast it. The city had several contained spells like that, and had used a few in truly dire situations, or to be used in less dire situations if something managed to slip through. Those were the incidents Phirine ended up known for. Thankfully, it had been over a century since one had been cast, and she intended to keep it that way.

Based on the name of the so called ‘orange caste’ she assumed that these ingrates were trying for a more destructive spell. She doubted they could have the skill to contain it, and would botch it, spelling destruction for the grand city above. She obviously couldn’t allow that. Even if they could contain it, she couldn’t risk anyone but the city of Phirine having access to that kind of power.

She lowered herself slowly into the cavern. She could smell the magic, the rancid attempts to leech power, to combine it, to throw it together into a foul smelling magical power amalgam, with nothing but raw energy to show for the sacrifices needed. She saw the prisoners first, mages of several classes, tied up and not moving. Likely already drained. The orange robed people were seen next, tending to the ugly machine of bronze and stone, imbedded with the crystals she knew all too well. It was a crude job, but she had no doubt it would work, given time. Generating the power for someone to tap and cast the spell.

She was spotted after a moment. Two of the orange robes took up combat stances, making broad gestures and firing blasts of flame at her. She decided to not bother with her own reserves for this, simply cancelling the blasts with the grey gem on the crown, before countering back at one caster with a beam of blue, which he, for his credit, attempted to defend from the blast with a decent enough shield, but the beam was simply on another level from what he could feasibly do. The beam punched through the shield, and blew a clean four inch hole in his upper right chest, not an instant kill, but a slow, incapacitated and painful one, which his compatriots could see. She simply hovered silently, as they repositioned and all focused on her as opposed to splitting focus between that and the main task of the machine. Fireballs mostly, but with some thrown in force beams, propelled stones and acidic streams.

Rather then cancelling them, she actively defended, forming a purple dome around herself, each attack hitting it and slowly transmogrifying into a greater mass of energy and dome circumference, the protective barrier expanding as more attacks struck it, and the magi below emptied every spell they could throw into her. Once the attacks began to slow, she counterattacked.

The dome dropped away from her, and she felt the reserves she held personal expand, enough to where she wanted to use them.

First, a whip of flame formed in her grasp, she cast it outwards towards one mage, wrapping his midsection in it and tugging, the flesh already melting through, and with a yell of agony, two sizzling halves fell to the floor. The whip then arced forward and incapacitated two others nearby with sheer heat, unable to notice the flames catching on their bodies in their unconsciousness. None of their allies were keen on helping given the circumstances.

Next, a hail of daggers, transmuted from thin air, cascading downwards in an array of steel, wholly puncturing the flesh of three more and injuring others. The daggers were gleaming, glinting…green, on their tips. The poison was fast acting, and the ones who’d been even just nicked didn’t last much longer after that.

Thirdly, she turned over to the right flank, who were attempting to kickstart the machine and throw something stronger at her. Since that could actually be problematic, she focused on them next. The earth beneath them softened, and they sank within, just to slow them down a moment before they could activate the machine concretely. A triage of lightning bolts then struck all three of them dead. She heard the calls for help from another passage, reinforcements footsteps hurrying down, along with others running to the other side of the machine, while those in front continued to try and engage her with more spells forming within their stance and grasps.

She cast a hand outwards, and summoned an old friend in the passage, opening up the briefest of gateways for that purpose. The sound of a blade slicing and flashing of radiant light indicated Eaiel was doing her work. She was an angel of the radiant sea, and she was very particular about who she was summoned to deal with. This seemed to suffice, by the looks of things.

With more immediate concerns, she looked to the spells being thrown at her from down below, and turned her skin to steel just as the flame rolled over her, then dispersed it, and cast molten metal leftover downwards, blinding them and likely far worse as they were left writhing on the ground. She flew to the right, not quite vain enough to land on the ground and give up the tactical advantage of flight. One of them had activated the machine, drawing the power into herself, and draining her friends, who laid unmoving at her feet. She smirked up at Isala, and fired the strongest thing she could with every single reserve afforded by the machine at the sovereign of Phirine. Not quite an apocrothos, but close enough.

It manifested in the form of a pure black ray of…it couldn’t be called light. It was the antithesis of light, something which stripped all away. Isala widened her eyes, and made a split second call to pull out the stops. Containment wasn’t worth it.

She outstretched and hand and manifested power from the crown and her own reserves, only slightly. Dipping both hands into a sea. But it was still more then she’d withdrawn in months.

The barrier came first. A refraction of magic and power, something to buy her a second, before it punched through, ready to annihilate her. It then struck every personal magical defense she could muster, and it was winning, nearly reaching her flesh. But she didn’t allow it. Instead, she pointed a finger forward, and fired about a handful of magical energy straight into the body of the orange caste member. The spell empowered, but more barriers warded it off, as the woman began to scream, hitting the ground as her flesh began to melt, her body consuming itself to maintain the amount of energy she’d been given, and her aim faltered, the beam striking the roof of the cavern. Isala used this chance to switch away from her defenses, fueling all of it into a single pinpointed blast of energy which punched a two inch hole in the center of the would be apocrothos caster’s head.

The beam vanished, and Isala breathed a small sigh of relief, before getting to cleaning up the wreckage. She had at least a hundred more things on her itinerary for the day more important then this.