Book 2: Chapter 43: Re-Supplies

  The courier arrived sometime between dawn and breakfast, a gap of time where most people were too exhausted to greet the day and too hungry to return to sleep.

  He wore the pale blue trim of the royal delivery corps and had the thousand-yard stare of a man who had seen far too many officers and far too few latrines.

  “I have delivery for... the Worldstriders?” he announced with all the enthusiasm of a wet paper towel.

  Alex took one look at the stack of chiseled wooden crates, scroll tubes, and wax-sealed satchels and immediately knew something was wrong.

  “…We don’t usually get mail,” he muttered.

  “Or friends,” Holly added brightly, peeking over his shoulder.

  “Or food that doesn’t come in lumps,” Garret helpfully chimed in, popping something grey and vaguely meat-adjacent into his mouth with a wince.

  But the courier, dutiful and slightly dead inside, simply unfurled a parchment and began reading names aloud. “Gifts to the worldstriders an behalf of the Nobles Houses of Terraxum, the Holy Church of her Lady in Light, and the MetalWorkers Merchant Guild Consortium.” He said in with a affeck that made monotone sound damn right cheery.

  The First Package: Spell Scrolls from House Caerwyn. Elegant, tightly bound parchment edged in gold-inked glyphs. A note was affixed, in the cool, formal script of Lady Thessalia herself:

  “To the Worldstriders:

  Consider these formation schematics and spell scrolls a further investment in your survival — and thus, our continued alliance.

  — T. Caerwyn”

  Devon unrolled one scroll and let out a low whistle. “Adept Level Spell, [Razor Rain]. We could blueprint an entire skirmish strategy with this. Henry, catch.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow at the burly man who looked down at the scroll in his hand. “Then start studying.”

  Henry gave him a mock salute with the scroll. “Yes, sir.”

  That was the only Adept Tier scroll in the bunch, but there were plenty others that the team divvied up among themselves. Alex picked himself out something that he was sorely lacking and desperately needed, a ranged attack option.

  As the knowledge of the spell entered his mind, he immediately understood the aether pattern to cast it, as well as the basic power he could utilize from it. He cast the spell just to see it in action, his azure energy forming into a long three foot construct almost the shape of a spear. The edges rippled and undulated in a way that told Alex it wasn’t entirely stable, like losing the Air element portion affected it in some way.

  He dismissed the attack and recast it, changing the intent of the spell slightly as he did so. The newly formed spear of aether energy ended up being shorter, perhaps a little over two feet, but it was more condensed then the last, and for more stable.

  With a flick of his hand, he launched it out at the training dummy that was set up in the field. The projectile pierced through its wooden body, embedding itself nearly a foot and a half into the pretend-enemy. Then the aether lost cohesion and exploded, blasting away fragments of wood and leaving the dummy with a ten inch wide hole at its center.

  “Oh yes, that’s going to burst so many fleshsacks. Very good. How many can you cast?” Obby formed his illusionary body and flitted about in the air between him and the dummy. His lanky-limbed formed seemed to crawl through the space in a way only eldritch abominations could.

  I can cast it maybe ten to twelve times before I’d start exhausting the energy in my body. But that’s if I only cast this new spell, excluding all the others. Chains, Shield, and Flare are still going to be essential in my close combat fighting. He explained to the enchanted rock.

  “Forget all those spells. This one is where the real fun is at. Except maybe [Flare] when you burst people into pieces. Hmmmm… “ The creepy little pebble-consciousness paused a moment, floating eerily. “Maybe you other spells have promise too. Can you form your [Shield] inside someone’s head and pop it like a balloon?”

  Once we are done with this war, I’m finding you whatever in this world passes as a therapist.

  Luckily, everyone else was busy with their own new spells and hadn’t noticed Alex starring awkwardly into space for no reason. He quickly moved on to the next create the courtier had brought them.

  Second: Armor pieces bearing the sigil of House Velcryn. The create contained polished plates, flexible undersheaths, and high-grade battle-silk etched with elemental runes, speed-boosting enchantments laced with subtle strength amplifiers.

  Kate practically purred when she held up a new breastplate in the low sunlight. “Velcryn steel. Reinforced aether channels. This is bespoke.”

  Even Henry, normally unmoved by such things, nodded appreciatively. “They secretly took our measurements?”

  Allie narrowed her eyes. “That’s either a little touching… or deeply unsettling.”

  Zach shrugged. “I’ll take unsettling if it comes with a mobility boost.”

  And they did. The armor pieces were all a mixture of medieval metalwork and the strange technocrat steampunk style of House Velcryn’s crafters. Breastplates with spinning gears on the sides that had sigils painted into every spoke with aether laced inked. Greaves that had tubes poking out the side like metal wings which belched smoke when activated. Gaunlets that contained a whirring device set in the back of the hand.

  Alex quickly pulled out his Echo Memory Lens to scan the enchantments where he noticed glyphs or runes. Between the item, Obby, and his own skill knowledge, it didn’t take him long to figure out what House Velcryn had sent them with these armor pieces.

  All of them had enchantments what would give an augmentor boost with activated. Either increasing their speed or strength for a short time. The enchantments were energy hungry, and left their bodies strained when over used, but they were amazing.

  “Wow, these, coupled with the spells, what else could they have sent us?” Peter asked.

  Every looked at the next create.

  The Third create was just a large amount of straw, buried underneath was a small lacquered box containing a sealed vial from Mother Theralyn.

  A thin crystalline flask, pulsing gently with a gold-and-lilac hue. No one recognized it when it got passed around, but eventually, Obby was able to feed him some information on the item after he scanned it.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Lumenflare Draught, that’s an expensive gift for sure. Its a light cultivation resource so rare it usually lived in church vaults and prophecy-stained glass tales. If you were to use it, it could probably push you half way to the middle stage of Adept Tier.” Obby explained.

  Alex passed on the info, pretending to have figured it out with his Echo Lens and his special aether sight abiltiy. Which wasn’t to far off the mark given that through his sight, Alex saw the vial to be condensed liquid-state light aether. It also helped that Mother Theralyn left a note at the bottom of the crate, further buried under the straw.

  A tag was attached with only a single line, written in perfect calligraphy: “For those who walk in shadow, and still bear light.”

  Eric picked it up reverently. “This stuff’s worth more than most noble houses?”

  Alex said nothing, just tucked it into their shared supply pouch. Later. If someone needed a breakthrough. If one of them was on the edge. That’s when they’d use it. Not before. Really though, everyone knew who it would go too, Allie. Having their best medic as powerful as possible was a no-brainer. The problem was, she had a dual element core, light and dark elements in equal measure. Using just the Draught would ruin that balance. They needed to find an equally powerful Dark attuned item for her as well.

  The Fourth crate: Natural Treasures and Enchanted Weapons from the Azure Vault and the Metalworker’s Guild.

  These came in noisier packaging, a crate that clinked and glowed faintly as it was pried open.

  Inside were vials of compressed aether nectar, frost-lotus petals, flame-pepper seeds, various alchemical cultivation pills and more.

  Everyone seemed to have a natural treasure that would fit them contained within, except for Alex. He settled for picking a single item, one that he might not even need based on Obby’s explination of the its effects.

  “[Aether Convergence Elixir], an Adept tier item actually,” the rock said. “Mages drink these to temper their bodies with the massive amount of raw aether energy it contains. Like what you attuned body abiltity already does. Probably won’t do anything at all for you. But it does contain a vast amount of energy over all.”

  So nothing exiting for Alex, but having items to helps his team more than made up for that fact.

  And besides...

  That was just the resources from the Azure Vault. The crate also contained enchanted weapons of varying kinds. A shimmering Jian blade, a rune etched shaft to a halberd, longwords, spears, jiuhuandao, and a set of six perfectly balanced throwing knives etched with combustion runes.

  “Oh. Now we’re talking,” Lance murmured.

  “Hot damn,” Cole added, holding up a two-handed maul with embedded wind-surge nodes. “I think this hammer purrs.”

  There were no names attached to the Metalworkers' gifts, but someone had bundled them lovingly. Which, in the military, was the closest thing to a hug. They passed the weapons around, needing no debate to know who got what, until they emptied out every item.

  And the last, a simple slip of parchment tucked into a satchel filled with aether crystals along with a single note. No glyphs, or seal to be found. Just clean, ink-pressed handwriting. “Seems you’re good for business after all. — VA.”

  Devon blinked. “Vess Auralde sent this? I figured she would have wanted us dead two weeks ago already.”

  Allie leaned over. “Is… is that a compliment?”

  “From a merchant? Yes. And possibly a marriage proposal.”

  Alex chuckled. “Don’t accept. You’d bankrupt the guild with your glyph materials budget.”

  As the sun crept higher over the jagged hills and the sound of drills echoed from the next ridge, the team sat with their packages strewn around them like kids at a very lethal birthday party.

  They hadn’t won the war, they hadn’t even secured safety. But the message was clear. “You’re still alive. You’re still fighting. And someone, somewhere, is rooting for you.”

  Even if it’s a noble lady with a frozen heart, a merchant with suspicious morals, or a priestess who believes in second chances.

  Alex exhaled slowly. Then looked toward the next ridge, where a fresh cloud of smoke had begun to rise over the area. The forward camp was a scattering of canvas shadows and half-buried fire pits. Most soldiers were still asleep or pretending to be. The ones that were awake whispered low or cleaned weapons that didn’t need cleaning.

  “Move the things into our tent, and start getting outfitted. We can get called forward any minute, so don’t waste this time gawking at these things like kids on christmas.” With that he snagged some guantlets from the second crate and walked off to prepare in his own way.

  By that time, Allie and Cole had already ventured off to the medic tents again, no doubt showing Veldan their new toys. The Regiment’s medic may have been the teacher when they were traveling while prisoners, but the two worldstriders had really turned that on it its head. There was no doubt in his mind that Garret, Lance and Eric were doing the same with Bromi, the regiment’s smith, as well.

  And so the student’s become the master. He smiled to himself from the thought as he walked through the camp. The bustle around him a familiar chaos that somehow calmed his nerves rather than excited them.

  He still heard a few whispers from the soldiers as he walked by. The terrifying visage of the

  Demon of Terraxum’ was hard not to notice, especially sense he made absolutely no attempt to hide. He just ignored all the many hushed tones and kept moving.

  He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when he heard someone screaming about a hidden pair of boots, and punishments being dished out to whoever is found responsible, all coming from a possibly rather pissed Lieutenant a couple tent-rows over. Garret was right, a true classic.

  Ten minutes later Alex was alone near the outer ward line, seated on a worn stone bench that had once been part of a lookout tower, before an aether-mortar round had redefined its career.

  That’s when he heard the voice.

  “Well, this is grim.”

  Alex didn’t look up immediately. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come pay a visit.”

  Prince Kailan Virell, royal heir, reluctant manipulator, and expert smuggler of fine alcohol, stepped into the firelight with a hood drawn over his head and a casual glamour spell blurring the edges of his face. At a casual glance, it made him look like half a dozen different people at once.

  In his hand was a bottle of winterwine. He held it up. “Peace offering?”

  Alex stared at it. “If it’s poisoned, I’m letting Kate stab you. Twice.”

  Kailan uncorked the bottle, took a drink first, and handed it over. “See? Trust.”

  He accepted the bottle, more out of tired curiosity than anything else, and took a swig. It tasted like frozen apples, mountain wind, and a bitter memory of better times. They sat in silence for a few minutes, passing the bottle between them like soldiers who met in the middle of the dead zone and weren’t supposed to be friends.

  Eventually, Alex broke it. “You sent us here.”

  Kailan didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

  “You could’ve freed us.”

  “I could’ve.” The prince looked off into the trees, face unreadable. “And watched as the political field stripped every supporter I had from me, one by one. Seen half the merchant guilds turn their ledgers against me, and the noble blocs label me a liability. I’d have been a prince with no court. And you’d be fugitives again. Dead within the month.”

  “Nice speech,” Alex said flatly.

  “It’s not a speech,” Kailan replied. “It’s just the truth. My leash is longer than most, but it’s still there. Golden handcuffs, wrapped in silk and smiling obligation.”

  Alex leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tried to control his rising heartbeat and building anger. “So what? You compromised? You chose politics over people?”

  “I chose survival, Alex.” The name landed heavy between them. “Yours, mine, everyone’s. You think I like this war? That I sleep easy while sending children to die with a blessing carved on their bones? I don’t want any of this. But wanting doesn’t undo reality.”

  The anger in Alex faded like a receding tide. Not gone, but quieter. More tired than furious.

  “…You still made the call,” he said.

  Kailan nodded. “I did. And I’ll carry it.” They passed the bottle back and forth again. The silence this time felt less like a wall and more like a pause.

  Then the prince smiled faintly. “That said… I didn’t come just to drown in guilt and drink my own wine.”

  “Then you’re a terrible conversationalist.”

  “I came with information.”

  Alex looked sideways at him, unsure of where this would lead them. He knew the prince was a shrewd man, even when friendly. And he had learned the hard way he couldn’t trust him completely.

  Kailan’s voice dropped low, almost conspiratorial. “Aeralith’s about to make a push. A big one. Multiple fronts, coordinated strike teams. They’re aiming to cut the spine out of our supply chain before winter sets in.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I still have… contacts.” The smile was too sharp. “Not all nobles in Aeralith are fond of their warmongering Kingship.”

  “And you’re telling me because…”

  “Because it’s not an order. It’s a favor. I’m not sending the army. They won’t believe me until it’s too late. But if you are ready for the push, can anticipate it and cripple it before it begins, you could save hundreds. Maybe thousands.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “Or you’re using us as a knife again.”

  Kailan raised his hands. “Probably. But it’s still a sharp one.”

  There was another long pause. Another drink passed between them. Alex sighed. “Give me the map.”

  As he had guessed, Kailan produced a scroll from his sleeve and handed it over. The seal was already broken. As Alex opened it and studied the markings, attack patterns, enemy squads, predicted timelines, he felt the weight settle into his chest again. But beneath it, something else. Not bitterness or anger. It was a quiet, reluctant understanding formed from many experiences in high circles back on earth.

  “You didn’t just come here to deliver this,” he said. “You came to make sure I still trusted you.”

  Kailan didn’t deny it. “I came,” he said softly, “because you’re the only one who never lied to me. And that makes you dangerous. But also… worthy of my trust in return.”

  Alex looked at him, then passed the bottle back one last time. “Let’s just drink before this gets any more heartfelt. I have a reputation.”

  Kailan smiled as he accepted the bottle. They didn’t talk much after that. But they didn’t need to. Because sometimes, in war, friendship didn’t come with oaths or cheers. It came with shared silence, a bottle passed between tired hands. And the unspoken promise:

  You do your best. I’ll do mine.