Sitting across the desk, Bergman shrugged his broad shoulders with less enthusiasm than Alarion would have liked. The once chubby boy had slimmed down considerably during his time in Ilvan-Trai, but the weight had bled from his face and belly, shrinking his width but not his breadth. If anything, Bergman was stockier than before, with new muscle packed into his shoulders, back, and arms that made him less spherical and more… rectangular.
It was still quite the improvement in Alarion’s opinion. And perhaps in Lily’s, if Alarion wasn’t imagining things.
“A shrug is not helpful.”
“K-Kali says you can trust her.”
“Kali says plenty of things.” Like he wouldn’t go below the belt. “I really do not think-“
“Y-You need the paperwork,” Bergman reminded him. “You either get it from someone willing to forge it, or they send someone who we can’t buy off. S-She made her condition plain from the start, she wants to know what she’s being paid to h-hide.”
“That was a deal we made before…” Alarion sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”
The Grand Awakening had only escalated in the weeks since Bergman first brought it to Alarion’s attention. What had started as a trickle of unexpected Awakenings had become a steady stream already threatening to overflow its banks. There were nearly a hundred of the new ‘low Aptitude’ Awakened in Ashad-Vitri alone, with smaller numbers of similar cases cropping up throughout the province.
And the problem would only get worse.
Most of those who’d Awakened were specialists of one kind or another, the sort who would have gained a class ages ago if their Aptitude allowed. But for every unexpected Awakened there were ten more who were slowly accruing experience, a catastrophe in the making, as far as Alarion was concerned.
One that was self-reinforcing.
The Vitrians could censor the news with minimal effort, but not word of mouth. What had started as a rumor became common knowledge as travelers and merchants spread the news from town to town. Something stirred in Ashad, a phenomenon seized by both the good and the bad. The Bones continued to claim credit, and some believed them, but for most, it did not matter why. It was an Ashadi awakening, a point of national pride and honor.
Such patriotic thoughts, of course, led many to embrace their heritage in ways the Vitrians had thought had been stamped out of them. There were parades and celebrations in the peaceful parts of Ashad, and a sudden surge in militia and Auxilia recruitment amid a sense of national danger. The overwhelming sentiment was that they would fight for their country, even if the Vitrians currently controlled it.
Such fervor sought out symbols of national pride. And who better than Vaelde, oto sai, their Martyr in the West?
It was a lit fuse waiting to explode, but so long as it remained peaceful, he felt he had no right to interfere. His skill was the mechanism, but their faith in their people, and in him, was the cause. The Ashadi needed hope after such a disastrous year, and the Grand Awakening provided it.
And if he gained a few levels in the process? All the better.
Level Up! Congratulations, your Orphan Class has advanced to Level 39! STR +10. AGI +10. VIT +10. INT +5. PER +10. WIL +5. LUK +128.
Skill level increased. Shared Burden is now Level 3. Free Points +200.
Alright. Perhaps more than a few.
A myriad of factors influenced how quickly a skill leveled up with usage, but rank and rarity were two of the most significant. Higher rank skills took longer to level and more effort to evolve, and the same was true of higher rarity skills. Unique skills, in particular, were renowned for being difficult to level and impossible to evolve.
ZEKE had suggested it would take a decade for [Shared Burden] to reach MAX level, and even that only if he carefully cultivated its potential. He was on track to do so in a year. Maybe two or three, if his popularity waned.
Yet even the sizable boost provided by 200 Free Points paled in comparison to the two levels it had granted him in [Orphan]. A passive way to circumvent the class’s troublesome restriction was worth far more than mere attributes.
It would be dishonest to say that the unexpected growth of his namesake class had no impact on his decision to maintain the skill. But that very admission made him feel… unclean. If push came to shove, or to riot, he had to be willing to cut it off.
But until then, he might as well enjoy the fruit of his lack of labor.
A knock at the door made Bergman jump, and Alarion roll his eyes. He touched a small rune on his desk, killing the privacy wards just long enough to shout, “It is open!”
Kali led the way, followed by a surprising, but very familiar figure.
“Master Sergeant Orphan.” The bald girl bowed deeply, her loose robes sagging beneath her as she tried—and failed—to conceal her amused smile beneath the courteous display. “We are once again honored to make your acquaintance.”
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“Her?” Alarion asked, his eyes on Kali.
“Am I missing something?” The Sergeant asked as he shut the door.
“Nothing of substance, Kalim,” the Ordinate reassured him. “We conducted the Orphan’s last appraisal, and we suspect he expected someone else.”
“Someone with gambling debts,” Alarion said pointedly.
The woman made a sheepish gesture with one hand, as if to say ‘oops’, then pressed her long sleeves together as she adopted the more formal posture of her order. “We are not all as lucky as you are, Master Sergeant.”
“No, but your taste in women is certainly more expensive,” Kali muttered.
Alarion and Bergman exchanged glances, but the Ordinate gave them little time to process the comment.
“Pay him no mind, and do not worry your nerves. You have coin, and we have expenses. Considerable expenses for an Ordinate’s salary. And little love for the empire.”
“S-Someone who turns cloak for coin-“
“Is hanged for treason should they turn back,” she finished sweetly. “Make no mistake, if we could find a buyer and Kalim did not have a firm hand on our leash, we might be sorely tempted, depending on just what it is that you are hiding, Master Orphan. But our people are not known for compromise; the law is not a suggestion.”
“Kali,” the Godborn reminded her.
“Mm, so formal. Remember when I held the-“
“Enough,” Kali snapped, his pale skin just the slightest bit more vibrant than usual. “She is a sneak and a liar, but she has as much to lose now as we do.”
“Just so,” she confirmed without a hint of offense despite what was—to a Vitrian—a mortal offense. “Provided that what Kali conveyed about Master Orphan’s skill proves true. We will not be complicit in hiding an illicit skill.”
“Understandable,” Alarion agreed. She’d asked him a similar question months earlier, when inquiring about the then-unselected [Orphan] skill. Illicit skills were not a System designation, but a cultural one, a shared understanding that certain paths, such as those involving disease or ritual sacrifice, were beyond the pale. “You can look when you are ready.”
“There is no time like the present,” the Ordinate agreed, finally crossing the small room to stand opposite Alarion. She chanted for several seconds, her hands moving through complex gestures within her sleeves before she finished with a single Vitrian word. “Evaluation.”
A minute of humming and hawing followed as the woman studied Alarion’s Status, navigating from screen to screen in search of what she was there to hide. Though meeting a celebrity like Alarion had undoubtedly been the highlight of her month when it came to work, the particulars of his Status had not stuck with her, and it took her longer than he’d have expected to find what she was looking for. But he certainly knew when she did.
“Haha…. Hahaha!” she burst out, struggling and failing to maintain her composure. The initial bout of giggles gave way to a cackling laughter that only intensified when she saw Kali scowling at her behavior.
“It was… it is you! You are the… oh, Mothers. Oh, sweet Mothers,” the Ordinate struggled, for breath and composure in equal measure, calling on all of her training until the indifferent emptiness returned behind her blue-grey eyes. “I had… we had no idea. The entire Ordinate is in a fit, trying to discern how the Bones of Ashad are forcing these Awakenings, and it is you…” she bit her lip hard to tamp down on another round of laughter, then smiled. “We see nothing here that breaches our agreed-upon terms. All that remains is the geas?”
“Mm,” Alarion agreed, and glanced at Bergman.
“U-Until the end of my service?” he confirmed.
“Unless extended by more than two additional years,” she agreed. “Or if it is discovered, or I am ever reassigned.”
The geas was a last-minute addition to their agreement, driven in part by the unexpected growth of [Shared Burden]. For all her laughter, what the Ordinate was concealing was far closer to high treason than it was simple document fraud. She wanted—needed—reassurance that she had a way out, and Bergman was the only one with the resources and connections to make that possible.
Alarion would have demanded she submit to a similar spell, or a dual binding geas that would ensnare them both, but it was impossible. Even if they had someone capable of imposing a geas upon her, and they did not, Ordinates had their own routine appraisals. She could hide Bergman’s geas the same way she concealed Alarion’s unique skill, but concealing one on herself would require yet more conspirators, who would then need to be bound in turn.
They had no option but to trust, if not in her, then at least in Kali’s assessment of her. The Sergeant claimed to have more than bribes to keep her in line, but he remained tight-lipped on the specifics. The fewer people who knew, the better.
Though given their interactions, Alarion was now deeply curious.
The casting of [Ordinate’s Geas] took considerably longer than the woman’s [Evaluation] spell, but seeing them cast back-to-back was interesting. There was a particular flavor to the rote magic used by the Ordinates, for lack of a better word. Each spell carried components of the other, basic building blocks such as syllables and gestures that should not have been compatible. [Evaluate] was a Sight Affinity spell, while [Ordinate’s Geas] was mostly Enchantment. They weren’t on the same axis, not even oppositionally, but when the resulting patterns were so close, they were the magical equivalent of siblings.
The real work came after the spell was cast.
Much like the [Evaluate] spell, an [Ordinate’s Geas] was an entirely voluntary spell. It could not be entered into under any substantive form of duress, be it physical, magical, or even emotional. When compared to something like the [Dual Binding-Geas] forced onto Alarion so many years ago, it was a profoundly weak spell, made functional only by the strong sympathetic ties of a willing oath, and it could only be enforced under the specific terms of that oath.
Alarion’s Oath and Vow powers functioned similarly, but because they were more powerful—and limited—their activation had more room for nuance and perspective in ways that an [Ordinate’s Geas] could not. A proper geas’ oath needed to be precise, detailing the specific conditions under which it would and would not trigger, the relevant duration, and the punishment that the System would enforce. For Bergman, a willing failure to act on his side of the arrangement would result in a total forfeiture of all class levels, a tremendous punishment made possible only by the life-or-death stakes of the oath.
Precisely outlining the details of an oath was a critical part of an Ordinate’s job, and whatever her vices, this one had not skimped on the details.
“-and so shall you be bound?” the Ordinate asked, her voice hoarse from ten minutes of uninterrupted recitation.
“I do,” Bergman answered.
Alarion flinched as a loose thread of sympathy snapped so taut between them that it invaded the passive expression of [Unraveller’s Sense]. Delving deeper, it was the strongest bond he’d ever seen, more powerful than even his link with Nessa, though far thinner. Thankfully, she had other such links, other geases that she had imposed as part of her regular duties, enough to conceal the aberrant connection from the eyes of anyone but a true sympathetic specialist.
“There, formalities out of the way, and we feel better already.” She smiled as if she weren’t knee deep in treachery, then looked to Kali. “Lunch?”