Chapter 183: 183
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Juniper blinked a few times and said, "Aurora acknowledges the truth of your anger and has authorized me to pre-approve you team's maverick status after you pass your trial by fire. First, you need to pass this trial by fire."
Orison replied, "I acknowledge the truth of Aurora's consideration."
With the justification of this last insult that was undeniable in the eyes of Avalon's citizen's, he had the excuse to do what he should have done when he had the chance the first time this test had been brought up. He filed for a dissolving of Jacques mentorship. He didn't want to but being too close to the Triumvirate had caused this whole current mess to begin with.
While the testing equipment was in it's final stage of assembly, LeStrange's bleary and tired voice voice cut into Orison's mind through The Weird on a secure line. "What's with the theatrics? You know why I'm doing this. I suppose saying you SHOULD know why I'm doing this."
Orison replied with affected anger to cover his nervousness, "You never took me to Shambhala. I said I completed your training, not the training that Dr Odd gave you... I completed the 'field version'."
With a bit of mockery in his tone, "Oh? What equipment was used for this supposed field version?"
"What kind of holiday do you think I was on? You took care of the Third Triumvir's adjunct? Then our business on that alternate future is taken care of. The first domino was plucked before it could topple. As for your concerns about my claims, they'll be laid to rest after this test is done. Our business as Triumvir and citizen, as mentor and student, will be done with it," the young mage said.
Jacques laughed menacingly. "You talk so well that it's only in moments like these that you show your lack of maturity and experience. You have no idea how much inconvenience and suffering you have avoided due to our efforts. Perhaps that was a mistake because it seems you take it for granted.
"Let me shine light on a fact you might not have realized. Whatever relationship we might have had in that alternate future, hasn't happened here. Less than a month ago, you were a stranger to me," Jacques said, finally sounding fully awake and cranky.
In his heart of hearts, Orison knew there were legitimate concerns LeStrange faced as a Triumvir that he brought up as a provisional citizen with potential sensitive knowledge of future events. But it rang a bit hollow when the man switched mentor and leader hats at awfully convenient moments. It made the young mage feel used.
He had been broken, watched helplessly as everyone with a bit of kindness towards him burned it out and then the dark things he had done to avert it all. His hands had been stained with blood and some of that blood was innocent. He had no plans on justifying himself but there was no need to beat himself up over things he wouldn't have to do, either.
The memory of the moment when he took the time manipulation artifact from the dying Dr Odd's withered hands was a low point. He could remember the old man laughing at him when he took it, telling him that those who had never been to Shambhala would never be able to grasp its power. He also remembered the look of despair on the old man's face when he fed it to Gan's conduit to fuel his own return, coincidentally saving Dr Odd's life as the old man was snatched up by an entity from Alpha Minoris.
The only saving grace was that communication between Alpha Minoris and Beta Prime could only be accomplished by a very different Triumvirate. Supernatural beings who, thankfully, were keeping their own council. If that dark time were to be known by anyone in the present, Orison would be in the Irregulars, a fugitive or dead. Despite that, he couldn't contain his anger towards Jacques.
"A stranger!? Well, I hope you had fun throwing back all the special goodies that your Patron gave to ME, stranger! Let me 'shed some light' on something that hadn't occurred to you. I lived nearly powerless through hell on earth for over three years and kept everyone from having to experience THAT. My reward, nearly incurring a debt... from YOU!
"If you want some evidence to chew on, how about that I was the one to return, not you. You were the one who received the training and preparations to handle that, not me. Who holds the artifact now? Who's beating me over the head with that power now?
"Think of how Dr Odd treated me and how you are handling the olive branches I've extended to you. You think that I'm taking things for granted!? What the hell do you think you're doing? T
"The impressions, gratitude and respect for the Jacques I know from that future motivated my generosity to you but all this one has done is humiliate and mock me. So, Jacques the mentor, f*** you. Jacques the Triumvir, I respectfully desire to deal with another Triumvir in the future when it's necessary because I don't trust a leader who abuses and takes advantage of his subordinates. Thank you."
LeStrange raged, "You over privileged brat! Welcome to a typical Wednesday I can look forward to for the rest of my life! Stuff your three years. How can that even compare!?"
Orison was speechless. All the things that he had experienced had been downgraded to a p*ssing contest. He suddenly felt calm. There wasn't a single shred of anger, just sadness and disappointment.
"You're right, Triumvir. It seems I had unrealistic expectations. Is there any other business you have left to discuss with me, sir?" he said with an absolutely neutral voice.
The man let out a belly full of fire only to get a polite agreement. By the time that Jacques finally realized that he wasn't dealing with a tactic but how Orison planned to respond to anything he had to say indefinitely, they were past the point where apologies or concessions could easily wipe away the damage. Worn out from punching cotton, the Triumvir ended the communication.
For the time it would take til the finer instruments were calibrated, the young mage meditated and entered a light trance. When they were ready, he made a farce of the whole proceeding by choosing to do a combat and utility defense of privilege at the same time. Within three seconds of the opening virtual challenges thrown his way, Orison cast a specialized version of Dispel called Lesser Disjunction that wiped all virtual projections and hit the small handful of purely technological based equipment like a low power electromagnetic pulse.
To finish off, he mended the piece of equipment that broke and relieved Juniper of discomfort from a lady issue with an effect that would last for a couple of days. It was the most lackluster and least showy defense of privilege they had ever encountered. And though it bare made the mark, it had undeniably been the quickest and most effortless one they had attended as well.
While the equipment specialists packed up, Orison exchanged the spell model. He explained that his purpose in learning it was to be reversed for creating enchanted items capable of cycling spent magic. He told them about Trisha's necklace gift and how he hadn't coded the enchantment. With some study, he had no doubts that such an item would become the best friend of equipment specialists and a superior option to surgically transitioning low reserve wizards into arcanists with weak and easily damaged magic channels.
What he didn't share was that without the model for Curse Breaker and intimate understanding of inert essence, the necklace he made for Trisha would set the golden standard and their best efforts wouldn't compare to a quarter efficiency of what he could produce but it was still enough to save a lot of people from making painful choices. It would also ease some of the burden equipment specialists faced when using life eating equipment that was inefficient or malfunctioning.
Halfway through the delayed Summit instructor briefing on what to expect in Plague Barrens and what would constitute a successful trial, Orison received a notification. He would receive the merits for the spell model exchange but credit for the discovery of the nearly life changing magic item would go to the master enchanter who made the first one. Having knowledge of the future, he was under suspicion of stealing someone else's achievement.
Not bothering to respond to LeStrange's secretary, he sent a message to Juniper that he didn't care about receiving credit but the spell was from his own legacy. He dared anyone to find a spell that could reveal the secret of recycling magic by showing how it could be pulled apart, capable of being cast at a Journeyman level. He finished the message by saying his generosity to Avalon wasn't infinite and this was the second time he had done something for the betterment of all only to be spit on.
"Cantrip, are my words boring you?" the instructor said with a vein sticking out on his head.
Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "Of course not, instructor. I was just informed that an award winning innovation I made was going to be stolen and given to a random master enchanter, gift wrapped. I could have been set from that alone but since I'm destined to continue being a cog in the wheel, I don't dare to find your words boring."
After using his authority to check Orison's messages only to find that nearly all of them suffered from one form of redaction or another, he said, "You need a few minutes to cool off your head?"
Weariness bleeding through to his face, Orison said, "I appreciate it but no."
The craggy face of the instructor bent into a scowl that was likely the closest thing to sympathy he was capable of producing and said, "I don't know whose boxers you bunched up but I'd suggest you find your favorite stick of lip balm and apply it to their *ss one set of kiss marks at a time until it's liberally coated."
Continuing to smile, Orison said, "Let them keep applying boot marks to mine. They're going to be really surprised when they find out it's their own pants seat they've been dirtying and bruising up. What a fun day that will be."
"Suit yourself," the man said before returning to his briefing.
Once that was done, Orison handed Roy his uniform with patch already applied and told him about its functions.
After he was done excitedly playing with his new toy, Roy said, "I don't know what's going on, but the rumor mill in Planar Response is that your trial isn't going to be messed with and your status as a Maverick team leader is all but certain. The problem is, your acquisitions are going to be chopped and screwed to death,"
"At this point, I'm counting on it... That's not what you signed up for, though. It's not too late to back out," Orison told him.
"Come hell or high water, you've got me for two years as long as you want me, Boss," Roy said.
"Last call, Garret. Just a little effort and you're a Rogers main family pick-up. You don't have to stick it out through whatever frustration storm that's coming," the young mage directed at the sturdy teen.
"I'm good," Garret said simply.
Orison nodded thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "It's relatively early in the afternoon. You all have 100K assigned to your accounts. Go handle your personal business. Just try to keep it to a level where you'll still be ready to go by nine tomorrow."
The brothers couldn't get out the door fast enough. Stag grabbed Roy before the man could take off as well and conned him into showing the green haired man around.
Orison turned to Gan, the scout said, "What were you planning?"
The young mage answered, "I need to stretch out and train some. After that, I think I'll do a nice, long, deep trance so I'm fresh for tomorrow."
"It seems to me that someone on this team should be aware of what the leader is capable of. How about you show me how far you've gotten on that tree swinging cannibal elf training," Gan said with a familiar grin Orison hadn't seen in quite some time.
Until early evening, it was like old times. There was no weirdness or stress inducing moments, just the reliable scout that had been with him since the beginning. Gan even pretended to be a bit worse than he was so Orison could get a few clean weapon touches in. Then, the scout owned him in every way possible combat wise.
The young mage was so shocked, he was almost horrified. Even with magic augmentation, he could barely hold his own. Considering it wasn't something he could waste in warm up training the day before mission start, he only did some quick comparison before being owned some more. From there, it quickly escalated into disarming pins until Orison found himself face down and about as aware of an uncomfortable issue as he could be.
Not quite ready to let him up, Gan let his feelings be known in a way that didn't require words and spoke his thoughts. "Before you get fed up and put me in my place, hear me out. Even if I was ready, you aren't. I can't put you back into that old box because you're not a courageous child I want to protect. You are someone I want to make mine and protect.
"I don't want you to put me back into the old box you have for me because I don't want to be your funny sidekick. You can feel what I want. This little arrangement you made isn't going to work, no matter how much we want it to. Neither one of us are that good at pretending."
Gan let him up and added. "I think I'm going to go with Gurrut and his people. I'll understand if you don't want to share anything with me from the place we're going... I need to go home.
"By the time you make it there, maybe things will have changed. Maybe I'll be dead and it won't matter anymore. But if you do make it there and I'm still alive, don't hug me and call me Gan. Don't tell me it's good to see me again or try to invite me on another long road. Don't do any of that unless YOU are ready to exchange rings... That is, unless you want it back."
The last part was said with so much fear and uncertainty that it hurt Orison's heart. It was true. Regardless of what might be possible in the future, accepting Gan wasn't something he could do then and there. Maybe in the future that could change. Maybe one of them would die and it wouldn't matter anymore.
Whether it was from some unwillingness to lose, a hope that it would be possible someday or a sick desire to keep some part of Gan on the hook forever, Orison said, "I told you that I'd never stop you from walking away if that's what you wanted. I owe you too much... I told you it would hurt like hell and it's going to. Don't you dare take off that ring in this lifetime or I will personally drag you back from whatever hell will have you and..."
He couldn't finish what he was going to say and refused to see Gan waver or break his resolve out of pity. To get through it, he shut off his emotions entirely.
With a mask of a face, he said, "We'll keep our agreements and you'll take what I give you from that place or you'll insult me in a way I can't forgive. In case things get too hectic, good travels, Gan. The next time we meet on the long road, I hope we can travel together again. The hole you'll leave behind won't be able to be filled with anyone else."
Seeing the lewd smile stretching across Gan's face despite himself, the young mage added, "Don't ruin my memory of our talk on the tower with an inappropriate joke."
Woodenly, Orison walked away, back to his room where he shut the door. He turned on the shower and turned off the emotional freeze, letting all of the things that would get in the way of their mission out and away with the water, down the drain. He would have kept the promises he made but he wouldn't promise what he couldn't give. He couldn't give it yet. Maybe not ever. but climbers could live a long time and strange things where part of the long road.
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Juniper blinked a few times and said, "Aurora acknowledges the truth of your anger and has authorized me to pre-approve you team's maverick status after you pass your trial by fire. First, you need to pass this trial by fire."
Orison replied, "I acknowledge the truth of Aurora's consideration."
With the justification of this last insult that was undeniable in the eyes of Avalon's citizen's, he had the excuse to do what he should have done when he had the chance the first time this test had been brought up. He filed for a dissolving of Jacques mentorship. He didn't want to but being too close to the Triumvirate had caused this whole current mess to begin with.
While the testing equipment was in it's final stage of assembly, LeStrange's bleary and tired voice voice cut into Orison's mind through The Weird on a secure line. "What's with the theatrics? You know why I'm doing this. I suppose saying you SHOULD know why I'm doing this."
Orison replied with affected anger to cover his nervousness, "You never took me to Shambhala. I said I completed your training, not the training that Dr Odd gave you... I completed the 'field version'."
With a bit of mockery in his tone, "Oh? What equipment was used for this supposed field version?"
"What kind of holiday do you think I was on? You took care of the Third Triumvir's adjunct? Then our business on that alternate future is taken care of. The first domino was plucked before it could topple. As for your concerns about my claims, they'll be laid to rest after this test is done. Our business as Triumvir and citizen, as mentor and student, will be done with it," the young mage said.
Jacques laughed menacingly. "You talk so well that it's only in moments like these that you show your lack of maturity and experience. You have no idea how much inconvenience and suffering you have avoided due to our efforts. Perhaps that was a mistake because it seems you take it for granted.
"Let me shine light on a fact you might not have realized. Whatever relationship we might have had in that alternate future, hasn't happened here. Less than a month ago, you were a stranger to me," Jacques said, finally sounding fully awake and cranky.
In his heart of hearts, Orison knew there were legitimate concerns LeStrange faced as a Triumvir that he brought up as a provisional citizen with potential sensitive knowledge of future events. But it rang a bit hollow when the man switched mentor and leader hats at awfully convenient moments. It made the young mage feel used.
He had been broken, watched helplessly as everyone with a bit of kindness towards him burned it out and then the dark things he had done to avert it all. His hands had been stained with blood and some of that blood was innocent. He had no plans on justifying himself but there was no need to beat himself up over things he wouldn't have to do, either.
The memory of the moment when he took the time manipulation artifact from the dying Dr Odd's withered hands was a low point. He could remember the old man laughing at him when he took it, telling him that those who had never been to Shambhala would never be able to grasp its power. He also remembered the look of despair on the old man's face when he fed it to Gan's conduit to fuel his own return, coincidentally saving Dr Odd's life as the old man was snatched up by an entity from Alpha Minoris.
The only saving grace was that communication between Alpha Minoris and Beta Prime could only be accomplished by a very different Triumvirate. Supernatural beings who, thankfully, were keeping their own council. If that dark time were to be known by anyone in the present, Orison would be in the Irregulars, a fugitive or dead. Despite that, he couldn't contain his anger towards Jacques.
"A stranger!? Well, I hope you had fun throwing back all the special goodies that your Patron gave to ME, stranger! Let me 'shed some light' on something that hadn't occurred to you. I lived nearly powerless through hell on earth for over three years and kept everyone from having to experience THAT. My reward, nearly incurring a debt... from YOU!
"If you want some evidence to chew on, how about that I was the one to return, not you. You were the one who received the training and preparations to handle that, not me. Who holds the artifact now? Who's beating me over the head with that power now?
"Think of how Dr Odd treated me and how you are handling the olive branches I've extended to you. You think that I'm taking things for granted!? What the hell do you think you're doing? T
"The impressions, gratitude and respect for the Jacques I know from that future motivated my generosity to you but all this one has done is humiliate and mock me. So, Jacques the mentor, f*** you. Jacques the Triumvir, I respectfully desire to deal with another Triumvir in the future when it's necessary because I don't trust a leader who abuses and takes advantage of his subordinates. Thank you."
LeStrange raged, "You over privileged brat! Welcome to a typical Wednesday I can look forward to for the rest of my life! Stuff your three years. How can that even compare!?"
Orison was speechless. All the things that he had experienced had been downgraded to a p*ssing contest. He suddenly felt calm. There wasn't a single shred of anger, just sadness and disappointment.
"You're right, Triumvir. It seems I had unrealistic expectations. Is there any other business you have left to discuss with me, sir?" he said with an absolutely neutral voice.
The man let out a belly full of fire only to get a polite agreement. By the time that Jacques finally realized that he wasn't dealing with a tactic but how Orison planned to respond to anything he had to say indefinitely, they were past the point where apologies or concessions could easily wipe away the damage. Worn out from punching cotton, the Triumvir ended the communication.
For the time it would take til the finer instruments were calibrated, the young mage meditated and entered a light trance. When they were ready, he made a farce of the whole proceeding by choosing to do a combat and utility defense of privilege at the same time. Within three seconds of the opening virtual challenges thrown his way, Orison cast a specialized version of Dispel called Lesser Disjunction that wiped all virtual projections and hit the small handful of purely technological based equipment like a low power electromagnetic pulse.
To finish off, he mended the piece of equipment that broke and relieved Juniper of discomfort from a lady issue with an effect that would last for a couple of days. It was the most lackluster and least showy defense of privilege they had ever encountered. And though it bare made the mark, it had undeniably been the quickest and most effortless one they had attended as well.
While the equipment specialists packed up, Orison exchanged the spell model. He explained that his purpose in learning it was to be reversed for creating enchanted items capable of cycling spent magic. He told them about Trisha's necklace gift and how he hadn't coded the enchantment. With some study, he had no doubts that such an item would become the best friend of equipment specialists and a superior option to surgically transitioning low reserve wizards into arcanists with weak and easily damaged magic channels.
What he didn't share was that without the model for Curse Breaker and intimate understanding of inert essence, the necklace he made for Trisha would set the golden standard and their best efforts wouldn't compare to a quarter efficiency of what he could produce but it was still enough to save a lot of people from making painful choices. It would also ease some of the burden equipment specialists faced when using life eating equipment that was inefficient or malfunctioning.
Halfway through the delayed Summit instructor briefing on what to expect in Plague Barrens and what would constitute a successful trial, Orison received a notification. He would receive the merits for the spell model exchange but credit for the discovery of the nearly life changing magic item would go to the master enchanter who made the first one. Having knowledge of the future, he was under suspicion of stealing someone else's achievement.
Not bothering to respond to LeStrange's secretary, he sent a message to Juniper that he didn't care about receiving credit but the spell was from his own legacy. He dared anyone to find a spell that could reveal the secret of recycling magic by showing how it could be pulled apart, capable of being cast at a Journeyman level. He finished the message by saying his generosity to Avalon wasn't infinite and this was the second time he had done something for the betterment of all only to be spit on.
"Cantrip, are my words boring you?" the instructor said with a vein sticking out on his head.
Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "Of course not, instructor. I was just informed that an award winning innovation I made was going to be stolen and given to a random master enchanter, gift wrapped. I could have been set from that alone but since I'm destined to continue being a cog in the wheel, I don't dare to find your words boring."
After using his authority to check Orison's messages only to find that nearly all of them suffered from one form of redaction or another, he said, "You need a few minutes to cool off your head?"
Weariness bleeding through to his face, Orison said, "I appreciate it but no."
The craggy face of the instructor bent into a scowl that was likely the closest thing to sympathy he was capable of producing and said, "I don't know whose boxers you bunched up but I'd suggest you find your favorite stick of lip balm and apply it to their *ss one set of kiss marks at a time until it's liberally coated."
Continuing to smile, Orison said, "Let them keep applying boot marks to mine. They're going to be really surprised when they find out it's their own pants seat they've been dirtying and bruising up. What a fun day that will be."
"Suit yourself," the man said before returning to his briefing.
Once that was done, Orison handed Roy his uniform with patch already applied and told him about its functions.
After he was done excitedly playing with his new toy, Roy said, "I don't know what's going on, but the rumor mill in Planar Response is that your trial isn't going to be messed with and your status as a Maverick team leader is all but certain. The problem is, your acquisitions are going to be chopped and screwed to death,"
"At this point, I'm counting on it... That's not what you signed up for, though. It's not too late to back out," Orison told him.
"Come hell or high water, you've got me for two years as long as you want me, Boss," Roy said.
"Last call, Garret. Just a little effort and you're a Rogers main family pick-up. You don't have to stick it out through whatever frustration storm that's coming," the young mage directed at the sturdy teen.
"I'm good," Garret said simply.
Orison nodded thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "It's relatively early in the afternoon. You all have 100K assigned to your accounts. Go handle your personal business. Just try to keep it to a level where you'll still be ready to go by nine tomorrow."
The brothers couldn't get out the door fast enough. Stag grabbed Roy before the man could take off as well and conned him into showing the green haired man around.
Orison turned to Gan, the scout said, "What were you planning?"
The young mage answered, "I need to stretch out and train some. After that, I think I'll do a nice, long, deep trance so I'm fresh for tomorrow."
"It seems to me that someone on this team should be aware of what the leader is capable of. How about you show me how far you've gotten on that tree swinging cannibal elf training," Gan said with a familiar grin Orison hadn't seen in quite some time.
Until early evening, it was like old times. There was no weirdness or stress inducing moments, just the reliable scout that had been with him since the beginning. Gan even pretended to be a bit worse than he was so Orison could get a few clean weapon touches in. Then, the scout owned him in every way possible combat wise.
The young mage was so shocked, he was almost horrified. Even with magic augmentation, he could barely hold his own. Considering it wasn't something he could waste in warm up training the day before mission start, he only did some quick comparison before being owned some more. From there, it quickly escalated into disarming pins until Orison found himself face down and about as aware of an uncomfortable issue as he could be.
Not quite ready to let him up, Gan let his feelings be known in a way that didn't require words and spoke his thoughts. "Before you get fed up and put me in my place, hear me out. Even if I was ready, you aren't. I can't put you back into that old box because you're not a courageous child I want to protect. You are someone I want to make mine and protect.
"I don't want you to put me back into the old box you have for me because I don't want to be your funny sidekick. You can feel what I want. This little arrangement you made isn't going to work, no matter how much we want it to. Neither one of us are that good at pretending."
Gan let him up and added. "I think I'm going to go with Gurrut and his people. I'll understand if you don't want to share anything with me from the place we're going... I need to go home.
"By the time you make it there, maybe things will have changed. Maybe I'll be dead and it won't matter anymore. But if you do make it there and I'm still alive, don't hug me and call me Gan. Don't tell me it's good to see me again or try to invite me on another long road. Don't do any of that unless YOU are ready to exchange rings... That is, unless you want it back."
The last part was said with so much fear and uncertainty that it hurt Orison's heart. It was true. Regardless of what might be possible in the future, accepting Gan wasn't something he could do then and there. Maybe in the future that could change. Maybe one of them would die and it wouldn't matter anymore.
Whether it was from some unwillingness to lose, a hope that it would be possible someday or a sick desire to keep some part of Gan on the hook forever, Orison said, "I told you that I'd never stop you from walking away if that's what you wanted. I owe you too much... I told you it would hurt like hell and it's going to. Don't you dare take off that ring in this lifetime or I will personally drag you back from whatever hell will have you and..."
He couldn't finish what he was going to say and refused to see Gan waver or break his resolve out of pity. To get through it, he shut off his emotions entirely.
With a mask of a face, he said, "We'll keep our agreements and you'll take what I give you from that place or you'll insult me in a way I can't forgive. In case things get too hectic, good travels, Gan. The next time we meet on the long road, I hope we can travel together again. The hole you'll leave behind won't be able to be filled with anyone else."
Seeing the lewd smile stretching across Gan's face despite himself, the young mage added, "Don't ruin my memory of our talk on the tower with an inappropriate joke."
Woodenly, Orison walked away, back to his room where he shut the door. He turned on the shower and turned off the emotional freeze, letting all of the things that would get in the way of their mission out and away with the water, down the drain. He would have kept the promises he made but he wouldn't promise what he couldn't give. He couldn't give it yet. Maybe not ever. but climbers could live a long time and strange things where part of the long road.
Juniper blinked a few times and said, "Aurora acknowledges the truth of your anger and has authorized me to pre-approve you team's maverick status after you pass your trial by fire. First, you need to pass this trial by fire." Orison replied, "I acknowledge the truth of Aurora's consideration." With the justification of this last insult that was undeniable in the eyes of Avalon's citizen's, he had the excuse to do what he should have done when he had the chance the first time this test had been brought up. He filed for a dissolving of Jacques mentorship. He didn't want to but being too close to the Triumvirate had caused this whole current mess to begin with. While the testing equipment was in it's final stage of assembly, LeStrange's bleary and tired voice voice cut into Orison's mind through The Weird on a secure line. "What's with the theatrics? You know why I'm doing this. I suppose saying you SHOULD know why I'm doing this." Orison replied with affected anger to cover his nervousness, "You never took me to Shambhala. I said I completed your training, not the training that Dr Odd gave you... I completed the 'field version'." With a bit of mockery in his tone, "Oh? What equipment was used for this supposed field version?" "What kind of holiday do you think I was on? You took care of the Third Triumvir's adjunct? Then our business on that alternate future is taken care of. The first domino was plucked before it could topple. As for your concerns about my claims, they'll be laid to rest after this test is done. Our business as Triumvir and citizen, as mentor and student, will be done with it," the young mage said. Jacques laughed menacingly. "You talk so well that it's only in moments like these that you show your lack of maturity and experience. You have no idea how much inconvenience and suffering you have avoided due to our efforts. Perhaps that was a mistake because it seems you take it for granted. "Let me shine light on a fact you might not have realized. Whatever relationship we might have had in that alternate future, hasn't happened here. Less than a month ago, you were a stranger to me," Jacques said, finally sounding fully awake and cranky. In his heart of hearts, Orison knew there were legitimate concerns LeStrange faced as a Triumvir that he brought up as a provisional citizen with potential sensitive knowledge of future events. But it rang a bit hollow when the man switched mentor and leader hats at awfully convenient moments. It made the young mage feel used. He had been broken, watched helplessly as everyone with a bit of kindness towards him burned it out and then the dark things he had done to avert it all. His hands had been stained with blood and some of that blood was innocent. He had no plans on justifying himself but there was no need to beat himself up over things he wouldn't have to do, either. The memory of the moment when he took the time manipulation artifact from the dying Dr Odd's withered hands was a low point. He could remember the old man laughing at him when he took it, telling him that those who had never been to Shambhala would never be able to grasp its power. He also remembered the look of despair on the old man's face when he fed it to Gan's conduit to fuel his own return, coincidentally saving Dr Odd's life as the old man was snatched up by an entity from Alpha Minoris. The only saving grace was that communication between Alpha Minoris and Beta Prime could only be accomplished by a very different Triumvirate. Supernatural beings who, thankfully, were keeping their own council. If that dark time were to be known by anyone in the present, Orison would be in the Irregulars, a fugitive or dead. Despite that, he couldn't contain his anger towards Jacques. "A stranger!? Well, I hope you had fun throwing back all the special goodies that your Patron gave to ME, stranger! Let me 'shed some light' on something that hadn't occurred to you. I lived nearly powerless through hell on earth for over three years and kept everyone from having to experience THAT. My reward, nearly incurring a debt... from YOU! "If you want some evidence to chew on, how about that I was the one to return, not you. You were the one who received the training and preparations to handle that, not me. Who holds the artifact now? Who's beating me over the head with that power now? "Think of how Dr Odd treated me and how you are handling the olive branches I've extended to you. You think that I'm taking things for granted!? What the hell do you think you're doing? T "The impressions, gratitude and respect for the Jacques I know from that future motivated my generosity to you but all this one has done is humiliate and mock me. So, Jacques the mentor, f*** you. Jacques the Triumvir, I respectfully desire to deal with another Triumvir in the future when it's necessary because I don't trust a leader who abuses and takes advantage of his subordinates. Thank you." LeStrange raged, "You over privileged brat! Welcome to a typical Wednesday I can look forward to for the rest of my life! Stuff your three years. How can that even compare!?" Orison was speechless. All the things that he had experienced had been downgraded to a p*ssing contest. He suddenly felt calm. There wasn't a single shred of anger, just sadness and disappointment. "You're right, Triumvir. It seems I had unrealistic expectations. Is there any other business you have left to discuss with me, sir?" he said with an absolutely neutral voice. The man let out a belly full of fire only to get a polite agreement. By the time that Jacques finally realized that he wasn't dealing with a tactic but how Orison planned to respond to anything he had to say indefinitely, they were past the point where apologies or concessions could easily wipe away the damage. Worn out from punching cotton, the Triumvir ended the communication. For the time it would take til the finer instruments were calibrated, the young mage meditated and entered a light trance. When they were ready, he made a farce of the whole proceeding by choosing to do a combat and utility defense of privilege at the same time. Within three seconds of the opening virtual challenges thrown his way, Orison cast a specialized version of Dispel called Lesser Disjunction that wiped all virtual projections and hit the small handful of purely technological based equipment like a low power electromagnetic pulse. To finish off, he mended the piece of equipment that broke and relieved Juniper of discomfort from a lady issue with an effect that would last for a couple of days. It was the most lackluster and least showy defense of privilege they had ever encountered. And though it bare made the mark, it had undeniably been the quickest and most effortless one they had attended as well. While the equipment specialists packed up, Orison exchanged the spell model. He explained that his purpose in learning it was to be reversed for creating enchanted items capable of cycling spent magic. He told them about Trisha's necklace gift and how he hadn't coded the enchantment. With some study, he had no doubts that such an item would become the best friend of equipment specialists and a superior option to surgically transitioning low reserve wizards into arcanists with weak and easily damaged magic channels. What he didn't share was that without the model for Curse Breaker and intimate understanding of inert essence, the necklace he made for Trisha would set the golden standard and their best efforts wouldn't compare to a quarter efficiency of what he could produce but it was still enough to save a lot of people from making painful choices. It would also ease some of the burden equipment specialists faced when using life eating equipment that was inefficient or malfunctioning. Halfway through the delayed Summit instructor briefing on what to expect in Plague Barrens and what would constitute a successful trial, Orison received a notification. He would receive the merits for the spell model exchange but credit for the discovery of the nearly life changing magic item would go to the master enchanter who made the first one. Having knowledge of the future, he was under suspicion of stealing someone else's achievement. Not bothering to respond to LeStrange's secretary, he sent a message to Juniper that he didn't care about receiving credit but the spell was from his own legacy. He dared anyone to find a spell that could reveal the secret of recycling magic by showing how it could be pulled apart, capable of being cast at a Journeyman level. He finished the message by saying his generosity to Avalon wasn't infinite and this was the second time he had done something for the betterment of all only to be spit on. "Cantrip, are my words boring you?" the instructor said with a vein sticking out on his head. Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "Of course not, instructor. I was just informed that an award winning innovation I made was going to be stolen and given to a random master enchanter, gift wrapped. I could have been set from that alone but since I'm destined to continue being a cog in the wheel, I don't dare to find your words boring." After using his authority to check Orison's messages only to find that nearly all of them suffered from one form of redaction or another, he said, "You need a few minutes to cool off your head?" Weariness bleeding through to his face, Orison said, "I appreciate it but no." The craggy face of the instructor bent into a scowl that was likely the closest thing to sympathy he was capable of producing and said, "I don't know whose boxers you bunched up but I'd suggest you find your favorite stick of lip balm and apply it to their *ss one set of kiss marks at a time until it's liberally coated." Continuing to smile, Orison said, "Let them keep applying boot marks to mine. They're going to be really surprised when they find out it's their own pants seat they've been dirtying and bruising up. What a fun day that will be." "Suit yourself," the man said before returning to his briefing. Once that was done, Orison handed Roy his uniform with patch already applied and told him about its functions. After he was done excitedly playing with his new toy, Roy said, "I don't know what's going on, but the rumor mill in Planar Response is that your trial isn't going to be messed with and your status as a Maverick team leader is all but certain. The problem is, your acquisitions are going to be chopped and screwed to death," "At this point, I'm counting on it... That's not what you signed up for, though. It's not too late to back out," Orison told him. "Come hell or high water, you've got me for two years as long as you want me, Boss," Roy said. "Last call, Garret. Just a little effort and you're a Rogers main family pick-up. You don't have to stick it out through whatever frustration storm that's coming," the young mage directed at the sturdy teen. "I'm good," Garret said simply. Orison nodded thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "It's relatively early in the afternoon. You all have 100K assigned to your accounts. Go handle your personal business. Just try to keep it to a level where you'll still be ready to go by nine tomorrow." The brothers couldn't get out the door fast enough. Stag grabbed Roy before the man could take off as well and conned him into showing the green haired man around. Orison turned to Gan, the scout said, "What were you planning?" The young mage answered, "I need to stretch out and train some. After that, I think I'll do a nice, long, deep trance so I'm fresh for tomorrow." "It seems to me that someone on this team should be aware of what the leader is capable of. How about you show me how far you've gotten on that tree swinging cannibal elf training," Gan said with a familiar grin Orison hadn't seen in quite some time. Until early evening, it was like old times. There was no weirdness or stress inducing moments, just the reliable scout that had been with him since the beginning. Gan even pretended to be a bit worse than he was so Orison could get a few clean weapon touches in. Then, the scout owned him in every way possible combat wise. The young mage was so shocked, he was almost horrified. Even with magic augmentation, he could barely hold his own. Considering it wasn't something he could waste in warm up training the day before mission start, he only did some quick comparison before being owned some more. From there, it quickly escalated into disarming pins until Orison found himself face down and about as aware of an uncomfortable issue as he could be. Not quite ready to let him up, Gan let his feelings be known in a way that didn't require words and spoke his thoughts. "Before you get fed up and put me in my place, hear me out. Even if I was ready, you aren't. I can't put you back into that old box because you're not a courageous child I want to protect. You are someone I want to make mine and protect. "I don't want you to put me back into the old box you have for me because I don't want to be your funny sidekick. You can feel what I want. This little arrangement you made isn't going to work, no matter how much we want it to. Neither one of us are that good at pretending." Gan let him up and added. "I think I'm going to go with Gurrut and his people. I'll understand if you don't want to share anything with me from the place we're going... I need to go home. "By the time you make it there, maybe things will have changed. Maybe I'll be dead and it won't matter anymore. But if you do make it there and I'm still alive, don't hug me and call me Gan. Don't tell me it's good to see me again or try to invite me on another long road. Don't do any of that unless YOU are ready to exchange rings... That is, unless you want it back." The last part was said with so much fear and uncertainty that it hurt Orison's heart. It was true. Regardless of what might be possible in the future, accepting Gan wasn't something he could do then and there. Maybe in the future that could change. Maybe one of them would die and it wouldn't matter anymore. Whether it was from some unwillingness to lose, a hope that it would be possible someday or a sick desire to keep some part of Gan on the hook forever, Orison said, "I told you that I'd never stop you from walking away if that's what you wanted. I owe you too much... I told you it would hurt like hell and it's going to. Don't you dare take off that ring in this lifetime or I will personally drag you back from whatever hell will have you and..." He couldn't finish what he was going to say and refused to see Gan waver or break his resolve out of pity. To get through it, he shut off his emotions entirely. With a mask of a face, he said, "We'll keep our agreements and you'll take what I give you from that place or you'll insult me in a way I can't forgive. In case things get too hectic, good travels, Gan. The next time we meet on the long road, I hope we can travel together again. The hole you'll leave behind won't be able to be filled with anyone else." Seeing the lewd smile stretching across Gan's face despite himself, the young mage added, "Don't ruin my memory of our talk on the tower with an inappropriate joke." Woodenly, Orison walked away, back to his room where he shut the door. He turned on the shower and turned off the emotional freeze, letting all of the things that would get in the way of their mission out and away with the water, down the drain. He would have kept the promises he made but he wouldn't promise what he couldn't give. He couldn't give it yet. Maybe not ever. but climbers could live a long time and strange things where part of the long road.
