25. Life Is An Endless Grind

The samples found in the undercity kept Penelope busy and Lukas and Elvis mostly free. She only needed a porter and courier in the evenings, and it was mostly to run scrolls and stacks of research notes to mage towers in distant corners of the city. Hooded strangers watched the package runner. A couple shot crossbows at the clones and even pursued them. None managed to catch their target or land a projectile. Agility empowerment and low mass ensured the clones were fast and slippery. Growing knowledge of the city and shortcuts meant the clones were also nearly impossible to track. They slipped through businesses, residential courtyards, and even gambling and drug dens. Some proprietors charged him for the privilege. A shell here and there no longer stung.

Lukas offered to look into whoever was trying to interfere in Penelope’s work. She refused and didn’t elaborate on whether she had someone else on the job or just didn’t trust him with it. However, they discussed the mastermind’s intentions.

“I’d like to think it’s a competing researcher pissed off that the city brought me in instead of employing them,” Penelope said over breakfast. She and Lukas had started to dine together in the mornings after Elvis departed for the smithy. “These men.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Their egos are insane. It doesn’t matter who has been at it for longer or has more recognized accolades. The only thing that matters is who is best for the job.”

“I assume information regarding your draconic lineage is privileged information?” Lukas asked.

“As are my age, experience, and accolades.” Penelope laughed. “They only know me as the Cold Fire Sorceror and the fact that I represent the conclave. I also have a reputation for solving draconic issues across several kingdoms and city-states. It's the only reputation that matters.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I think you're wrong.”

“I appreciate a good debate.” She gestured for him to carry on.

“If it were a competing mage or researcher, they'd know how to counter you better,” Lukas said. “They wouldn't send two-bit, inexperienced awakened to ambush you in the undercity. And they'd employ professionals to deal with me, a newly sharded.

“Whoever it is that's trying to interfere doesn't know you. Or who you are. They only have a rough idea of what you're doing in Iskander. Hence, they're employing anyone desperate enough for a job. That kid you had me put down, I looked him up. He has a sick mother and an underage sister. They were already struggling to keep their home while paying for medicine before he died. Now, their fate is sealed.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. Penelope only gestured for him to continue. “I think the people responsible for the draconic issue are just trying to slow you down. So whatever they have planned gets done before you figure everything out.”

“So the ambushes, hunters chasing you and Elvis for the packages…all of this is a distraction? An inconvenience?”

Lukas nodded. 

“You're surprisingly insightful for someone your age,” Penelope said.

“Especially for some ordinary country blood-bag hic with no memories,” Bass added before returning to his slab of raw fish. It looked and smelled like tuna.

“You think I'm talking out of my butt,” Lukas stated before returning to his meal. He ignored the familiar as usual. “I probably am—”

“Not at all. We're discussing theories, and I respect your analysis and insight. Sorcerer is what I am. Investigative research is my profession. I believe we'll know who's correct soon enough. If it's one of my self-proclaimed rivals, their magic will show, or one of his hired thugs will give him away. 

“On the other hand, if you're correct, they’ll get scared as we close in and cease using riff-raff. Whoever or whatever organization is behind this is an entity of influence, wealth, and probably military strength. Their personal forces will get involved, and then we'll know for sure.”

“Well, now I hope that you're correct,” Lukas said. “If not, war is coming to Iskander.”

Penelope nodded. “That's my concern, too.” Her smile betrayed sorrow. “I like your theory because of how probable it is. Maybe I prefer mine because it will involve significantly less death and destruction. We might see early signs because it will involve smuggling people into Iskander. The port authority flags everyone and everything coming in. They’re far less corrupt than the city guard.”

“Not corrupt enough to shut down the slave trade,” Lukas stated.

“The what?!” Penelope exclaimed, eyes wide. “That’s still going on here? Does the city council know?”

Lukas shrugged. “At least that’s what I think I saw.” He jumped up from his chair, swiftly closed the window, and checked the door. Penelope preferred dining in her room for privacy. They often discussed sensitive topics and couldn’t afford to have anyone eavesdropping. “It was on the day I got my essences.”

“Do we need a Dome of Solitude?”

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” Lukas said. “The bastard shopkeeper tried to shake me down for my sword. He called it a trade. The weapon for an essence.”

“Not equitable trade at all,” Penelope said.

“That’s what I said, but he had thugs ready to force the deal. So, I knocked over a shelf of alchemical brews. I don’t think he had them stored properly. It was a disaster. They mixed, started fires and explosions, and sent acid bubbles everywhere. Anyway. I couldn’t go out the front and tried the back instead. The rear storeroom was full of empty cages. Human-sized. Full of cuffs and manacles. There were more in the alley behind and poorly covered.”

“That could be anything. Perhaps the merchant also sold magical beasts. Illegally, but it's easier to pull off than slavery.”

“Perhaps. Stairs led down to a section of the port shielded from the rest. It's behind where the easter cliff face ends. There was a galley. More cages. The vessel didn’t look like it was designed for transporting ordinary cargo.”

“I know the city guard was corrupt, but not enough to let something of this magnitude go on under their nose.”

“I could be wrong. My point is there is a system for sneaking living cargo in and out of Iskander. It could be the means for sneaking enemy forces into the city.”

“Or bring in contraband for their undercity antics. If this is really a cult at work, trying to awaken something deep underground…” Penelope drifted off, eyes moving her familiar. “We need to check this out.”

“I can show you where it is. How about—”

“No,” she quickly said. “Not yet, anyway. Get better with your ability first. Let us scout it out first and investigate. Then, if we need you, we’ll use you too.”

“Got it.”

Much to Lukas’s surprise, Kat bought Elvis’s lie. The attempt at sabotaging the relationship failed. Instead, his time and responsibilities at the smithy increased. Every evening when Lukas dispelled the clone, memories of all his daily tasks, escapades with Kat, successes, and failures filled him. The increased mass and the improved strength and toughness that came with it allowed Elvis to push harder, strike harder, and tolerate more discomfort.

It took half a dozen attempts, but Elvis successfully made a knife that met the blacksmith’s standards. They put it in the shop’s window display and granted him the title of Apprentice Blacksmith. It was probably the most insignificant of titles he had ever earned but came with an odd sense of pride that Lukas didn’t recall personally feeling in quite some time.

Things also progressed at the Shadow Seekers. As a favor to Lukas, Penelope registered Lukas’s employment as a guild job. It helped the guild’s reputation while improving Lukas’s standing with them. It made the relationship more equitable, so he was doing something for them and not just using them for training.

“Why don’t you ever bring both weapons with you?” Kwame asked one morning when Lukas personally visited the guildhouse. “Are you trying to emulate me? Spear one day. Simple shortsword another?”

“It just feels like I’m neglecting the shortsword when this is my most potent weapon,” Lukas said. “Three-Stage Spear most days. Short swords when I have magic to spare after arcane training.”

“You have an arcane tutor?” The guild’s quartermaster raised a bushy eyebrow.

“It's just my employer. My soul ability—”

“Your real soul ability or the made-up one you told everyone here?”

“My real soul ability—” Lukas grinned. “—is useful to her work here in the city. I help her, and she guides me in exchange.”

“Interesting. So, what is it you want to practice today?”

“I'd like to combine my new Body ability with the sword's enchantment to fight and move as fast as possible.”

“Details, please.”

“I can essentially half my body weight but retain normal strength. Enhanced speed and agility. Flexibility is improved, too. On the downside, I’m more fragile, and my pain tolerance is significantly lower. Alternatively, I can double my body weight for toughness and strength but lose agility and flexibility. Currently, I can only do one of them per day, and I’d rather prioritize the former.”

“So you essentially want to train using bird bones,” Kwame said thoughtfully. “And I’m guessing your priority is to use the sword as an arcane focus first and weapon second?”

“Yes, but currently, all of my magic revolves around using the sword or melee combat. Speed and sharpness enchantments. And a light spell. My arsenal will hopefully expand before long, but it might take a while to achieve combat competency.”

“You don’t need an offensive technique then. Be strategic. If you’re also going to be using magic, you can’t use a shield and need a hand-free for spellcasting. Parry. Riposte or counter-slash. If you have speed and sharpness enchantments, they’ll ensure you do significant damage with just that. Your skill set should focus on deflection and survival. Outlast your opponent and put them down.”

“What about when I’m facing larger, inhuman opponents?” Lukas asked.

“The skills certainly won’t be any less useful,” Kwame stated. “You’re going to learn avoidance and redirecting incoming attacks. Combined with the footwork from unarmed training, it’ll come in pretty handy. Think about it. Big thing charging at you, and you gracefully dance out of the way and slice it from neck to tail. Harpy descending from above? Swipe aside its claws and take off a wing in two swift strikes.” The weapons expert shrugged. “I know swords lack reach and are best used as a backup after all else fails. Generally, I advise people to use them only as backup weapons. But things change when you bring magic and shard abilities into the mix. That shortsword of yours might prove more potent than the spear.”

“I don’t know. I really prefer hit-and-run tactics and swift, killing strikes. The other day, you were teaching this girl—”

“Forget her.” Kwame waved dismissively. “The three-stage spear is a perfect balance of offense and defense. If that fails you—” He paused, eyes lighting up. “I know! How about a demonstration? Come at me!”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Kwame. We—”

“Just come at me!” The man interrupted him again. “Put everything you have into it. Full speed. Shard ability. Enchantment. Everything!”

“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

Kwame shook his head, so Lukas complied. He moved the slider to the lowest position, drew the shortsword, and held it an inch away from his lips. “Frar.” The exercises Esther had taught him, and the clones’ endless training proved fruitful. Magic Lukas had gathered and compressed in his solar plexus dissolved as he spoke the word. It coursed through his body, snaking through his blood vessels, nerves, and all organs. 

One moment, the sky was overcast, and sunlight filtering through the clouds painted everything grey. Then, as magic pulsed through Lukas, colors brightened, the still air turned into a cool breeze caressing his skin, and surrounding murmurs became detailed conversations. He tuned out everything unnecessary and sprinted forward, drawing all the knowledge he had gathered over the past few weeks.

Kwame sidestepped the first thrust. Lukas transitioned into a quick slash, but the quartermaster ducked under the attack, but just barely. Despite the close call, the man’s nonchalant expression didn’t change. He didn’t even draw the arming sword dangling from his belt. Kwame stepped around the following two swift thrusts and hopped just out of the next slash’s reach. 

When Lukas attempted striking again, his opponent didn’t try to avoid the blow. Instead, a rough cylinder of light solidified in Kwame’s left hand. He casually pushed aside Lukas’s sword, barely using any force at all. The quartermaster dipped out of his line of sight, lightly tapping Lukas’s side and back. The same happened following the next strike. Kwame used more force, tapping the torso and inner thigh. He didn’t stop just there and hooked a foot with his own before lightly pushing Lukas.

“Ouch!” Lukas exclaimed, falling on his hands and knees. The rough sand shredded his hands and knees instead of just scratching him. Jolts ran up all of his limbs, and it felt like they were going to pop out of their joints. If Lukas hadn’t slowed to strike and turn to follow Kwame, he was sure the fall would’ve resulted in a break. The frailty would require some getting used to. “Laeknir.” The wounds rapidly knit themselves closed, expelling all debris stuck within.

“See what I mean?” Kwame asked. The cylinder of hard light, magic, or whatever it was disappeared. “It didn’t matter how much faster you were than me or how much force you used. Technique and understanding helped me avoid everything you had and use all that power against you.”

“Message received.” Lukas groaned, sitting up. “I’m still struggling to see how this will help against some of the stuff I saw in the undercity. But I suppose that’s what the spear is for—”

“That’ll be the case until you’re competent. Your growth thus far has been incredible, but half the time, it still looks like you're flailing wildly. Either too many large or unnecessary movements. Sometimes both. But I’ll beat that out of you.” Kwame grinned, showing off his incredibly, almost unnatural, teeth. “That’s a promise.”

“Not every day, though. I’d like to prioritize the spear. Maybe once or twice a week, we’ll practice with the sword.”

“Master of all. Jack of none. That’s what they call me.” Kwame laughed. “Honestly, it’s not the worst thing ever. Better to be okay and capable of adapting to a bunch of different situations than specialize and get stuck in a niche.”

Or use clones and become a master of everything.

The training session went on for three grueling hours. El-Two’s spear-training sessions were much harsher. Kwame used considerable strength during their sparring, leaving the clone with bruises and shallow cuts. Training in the ‘Delicate Blade’ came with surprising gentleness and forgiveness. The trips and falls still hurt, but Lukas was more careful and measured as he focused on Kwame’s demonstrated techniques instead of what he already knew.

Lukas resolved to part from the sword from time to time and trust the clones with it. Occasionally, he wanted to partake in martial training personally. He enjoyed the burn and satisfaction. It came with more significant psychological benefits than memories gained through clone death or dispellment. However, the clones were still better than him at pushing themselves. Pain that floored Lukas or gave him pause—for the sake of self-preservation and to avoid more serious injuries—barely affected the clones. They could afford to suffer broken bones or more serious wounds. None of their injuries had long-term consequences, after all. Lukas didn’t have the same luxury.

After finishing with Kwame, Lukas visited the guild’s diviner. The journal refused to tell him how far he had to go until Arcane Clone was ready to ascend or what he needed to do to cross the threshold. Its answer was the same: serve Lady Silverspine’s interests for answers. Lukas refused to go out of his way for quests. If they happened to come across something while on another job, he intended to consider it. And that was assuming it didn’t inconvenience him too much, and the probability of personal survival was high.

“You’re close,” the diviner told him. “I can’t say how close or what you need to do to be ready for essence absorption and tier ascension, but it's close.”

“How will I know?” Lukas asked.

“You just will. It's like knowing when your stomach is full or that you need to relieve yourself. Your body, more specifically the Pillars, will tell you.”

“That’s helpful,” Lukas grumbled, leaving. He also visited a local temple, hoping for more clarity, but got a similar answer. It was frustrating, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Modify Mass gained two ranks in the week since the Pillar awakening, while Arcane Clone’s progress had slowed down to an annoying pace. At the end of every day, Lukas summoned and dispelled clones until his magic stores were near empty and his head throbbed but nothing worked. Neither Esther nor Penelope—two of the most knowledgeable people he knew—had answers for him.

Lukas returned to the inn tired and dejected, ready to complete his day. Unfortunately for him, the people of Iskander had other plans for him.

“Good evening!” Greeted Captain Stefan Santana. Cadet Humphrey Jones stood close behind him, appearing far more amenable than the last time Lukas and he met. “We’ve been waiting for you, Mr Zaun.”

“Oh?” Lukas raised an eyebrow, recalling the last time he had seen the guard captain. He had made an effort to avoid bumping into the man since. “To what do I owe the pleasure, captain—”

“Please. Call me Stefan.” The man smiled. His eyes drifted to Lukas’s left breast. “The rumors were true. You’ve joined the Shadow Seekers. Given how healthy you look and since you’re still putting up here, I assume things are going well with them?”

Lukas nodded. “Their training has been excellent, and I’ve also scored a long-term contract that pays well. None of this would’ve been possible without you, Stefan. Thank you.”

“Yes. I’ve heard of you and your employer through my men and—” Stefan paused, side-eyeing his subordinate.”—and other sources. A friend of mine has been asking to meet you, in fact. It's why I’m here.”

“If it’s regarding my work with the sorcerer, I’m afraid there is a magically-binding contract swearing me to secrecy. There is nothing I can do.”

“Oh, no. No one would dare mess with the Cold Fire Sorceror. Not a lot of people in Iskander are powerful or stupid enough for that. Word of your soul ability has leaked.” Stefan shrugged. “I’m sorry. People at the research center got drunk and mouthy in a tavern, probably. My friend wants to use your gifts.”

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Lukas asked. “Am I free to say no?”

“Of course! However, you should know this friend is powerful and connected.” Stefan chuckled, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry. That sounded like a threat. I mean that they have connections, and rejecting their offer might close several doors. Accepting, on the other hand…”

“I get it.” Lukas sighed. “Do I have time to go up to my room and freshen up?” He gestured at his clothes. “I don’t feel presentable at all, and if this friend is as important as you say, I’d like to present my best.”

“Is ten minutes enough?” Stefan asked.

“It’s plenty.” Lukas smiled, slipping past the pair and racing up the stairs.