The long, dim corridor ended in a T junction, and on the left, a set of closed bronze gates barred passage. With no other option, Ward turned right and followed the corridor to another such junction. This one was barred on the right, so he turned left, and a dozen paces ahead, he saw a closed, ornate bronze door, much like the one through which he’d entered. “The hell is this? A maze?” He stomped to the door and gripped the handle, half expecting it to be locked. It opened on well-oiled hinges.
On the other side, he found a cramped square room where a glowing white globe suspended from the ceiling illuminated the space brightly. Another door stood opposite him, and beneath the light sat a small wooden table and two chairs. “Hello?” Ward asked, walking into the space. He edged around the table and tried the handle on the other door—locked. Unsurprisingly, the door he’d come through clicked shut, and when he returned to test the handle, it wouldn’t turn.
“Please sit down,” a bodiless, masculine voice commanded. Ward looked around for a speaker but found nothing. The voice seemed to come from the air in front of him, and he had to assume it was some sort of magic or, he supposed, some clever manipulation of acoustics. “Please sit down. An agent will be with you soon.”
Ward sighed and pulled out the nearest chair. He sat with a huff and folded his arms over his chest, frowning. He hated red tape, and this whole place felt like a big damn swath of it. He sat there for several minutes, and, all the while, he felt the wolf clawing at the restraints he’d imposed. It—he—was tired of being cooped up. He’d gotten a taste of fresh air, and now he was stuffed into a little room deep under the mountain of marble that made up the edifice of the Proving Gate. It rankled.
Before he had to fight with himself for too long, the far door clicked and swung open, revealing a figure in a multi-layered, silky gray robe. Ward did a double take when he saw the head atop those robes. Before him stood a creature out of fantasy or science fiction—a smooth pink head with a single eye, probably two inches in diameter. Beneath that big, black orb, a small purple-blue beak protruded, and at the base of what might have been a chin or skull hung hundreds of little twitching tendrils that looked like nothing if not worms.
“Hello, petitioner,” the creature said in a high-pitched, whistling voice. “I am High Arbiter Kroll, and I’ll be conducting your evaluation.” When Ward didn’t respond, the creature added, “This is a great honor. Few petitioners gain the attention of a judge of my stature.”
Ward cleared his throat and nodded. “Well, thanks, then.”
“Thanks, is it?” The judge pulled out the chair and sat, though it didn’t seem a natural movement. Kroll’s torso was much shorter than a human’s, and his—Ward thought he sounded masculine but couldn’t be sure—shoulders barely cleared the table. “You’re an interesting fellow. What brings you to Primus?”
Ward didn’t like how he’d been labeled “interesting” already. In his mind, when it came to legal attention, less was more. “The Assembly has summoned me.”
“An Assembly summons, is it?” Kroll nodded, reached under the table, and produced a silvery tray about the size of a sheet of paper. Ward wondered if it had been attached to the underside of the table or if the judge had been carrying it in his robes. Kroll set the tray on the table, and Ward saw that the front side was beautifully engraved around the edges, though the center was polished to a mirrored sheen.
Kroll reached under the table again, and when his strange, slender red fingers appeared again, they held a small stand that he unfolded and set behind the tray, propping it up so Ward couldn’t see the mirrored side. Watching him, Ward realized the judge’s fingers looked odd because they had no nailbeds, nor could he see any wrinkles around where knuckles would be. They moved more like long rubber tubes than joints. “There we are,” Kroll said, his words whistling out of his beak.
“Mind if I ask—”
“This is a Judicial Reflection Apparatus, a most sophisticated instrument of adjudication. Within its mirrored depths, the threads of truth are untangled, the weight of intent is measured, and the burden of deception is laid bare. Few petitioners are graced with its scrutiny, and fewer still emerge unscathed. But do not fear—truth, after all, is the cornerstone of justice.”
“Lovely,” Ward sighed.
Kroll peered at his device for a moment, then announced, “I’m afraid we’ve found your description to be dishonest. You don’t find this device lovely, though you certainly should.”
Ward shifted uncomfortably, irritated but also concerned by the creature’s inability to recognize sarcasm. Clearing his mind and his throat, he said, “I’d prefer to make this process as quick as possible. Ask me your questions.”
“Direct, though lacking respect. Very well.” Kroll spread his long, rubbery arms, making his robe undulate strangely, and then he brought them back under the table, presumably on his lap. “Petitioner, what is your name?”
Ward looked at the back of the silver tray, then up into Kroll’s big, depthless black eye. “Ward Dyer.”
“Good. Would I be correct in assuming you are a male of your species?”
Ward narrowed his eyes. Half of him wanted to mess with this guy, but he suppressed the impulse. “Yes.”
“Mr. Dyer, from whence do you hail?”
“Most recently, or?”
“Name the world of your birth, Mr. Dyer.”
“Earth.”
Kroll made a whistling sound as he exhaled and leaned closer to his device. He stared at it for several seconds, and Ward peered at his glossy eye, wondering if he could make out a reflection. He thought he saw a silvery rectangle in there, but he couldn’t see what was on it. “And here in the Vainglory System?”
“Cinder.”
“What was your business on Cinder?”
“I was involved with a few different things. I explored the Catacombs—a challenge—and I did some traveling. I helped to run down a few criminals and eradicate an evil cult in Westview. I also explored Alagenny’s Spire while I was there.”
“Hmm,” Kroll whistled out another breath as he peered into his silvery device. Ward really wanted to know what was on the other side. Half of him suspected that it was nothing more than a serving tray and that the “arbiter” was messing with him. “And your reason for coming to Primus?”
Ward felt his ire rising more and more. The wolf was gnashing its teeth, urging him to stand up and rip the door off the hinges. “I told you.”
“Please elaborate. Why has the Assembly summoned you?”
“I don’t know,” Ward said through clenched teeth.
“Mr. Dyer, it is imperative that you utter the truth; did I not make that clear?”
“I’m telling you the—”
“I’m afraid I’m not seeing evidence of truth in your previous response. It could be that, while you don’t technically know why the Assembly has summoned you, you have an idea that your subconscious has become convinced of. Try that. Speculate: why do you think you’ve been brought to Primus?” Kroll’s voice remained even during his chastisement and suggestion, and Ward decided he needed to try to play his game. He didn’t seem to be the sort of bureaucrat that could be hurried.
“Well, we received the summons through Marshal Gail True. My companion and I helped her to wipe out a cult, as I told you. Many of the nobility were implicated in the cult’s activities, and I think the Assembly wants to make sure we were in the right when we, um, put a stop to them.”
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Kroll stared at the “reflection apparatus” for another minute, then bobbed his head forward and back, his strange worm-like tendrils swaying with the motion. “Mostly true! There’s something you’re holding back. Something you’re worried about. Do you think the Assembly has knowledge of something you’ve been trying to keep hidden?”
Ward felt his blood go cold even as his heart began to race. Was the arbiter talking about Grace? What would the little creep do if he knew he had a “passenger?” As his mind raced, he stalled, “How would the Assembly know anything about me? I’m pretty new to the Vainglory System.”
“The Judicial Reflection Apparatus does not lie, Mr. Dyer. There’s something you’re concerned about. For instance, do you think you were overly violent in your disruption of the cult’s activities?”
Suddenly, things clicked for Ward, and he said, “Well, I’m always a little worried about prejudice.”
“Prejudice, sir?”
“Against my bloodline.”
“Please elaborate.”
“I have a lycan bloodline, and, yeah, there were some witnesses that saw me taking advantage of it—to fight the demonic forces of the cult, I mean.”
“Lycan!” Kroll made a clicking sound with his little beak—Ward wondered how he could even speak with such a mouth—and peered intently at the apparatus. “I see it now. Lycan. Hmm.” He reached under the table and, a moment later, set a shiny black box about the size of a deck of cards beside his apparatus.
Ward frowned, wondering what was next. Kroll tapped the box and, with a snick, a little brass tube extending from one side. He pulled on the tube, extending about four inches. Then, he turned the little box so the tube pointed to his apparatus. “Please place one of your digits at the center of the aetherometer.”
“Care to explain what it’s going to do to me? I’ve never seen one of those.”
“An inquisitive mind is oft ridiculed by the impatient. I’m happy to foster your curiosity. This aetherometer will draw forth a sample of your mana, which has been molded to your mana well and pathways, absorbing the essence of your spirit and mingling with your primal flux. It will provide details about your vessel—your bloodlines, your mana development, and other peculiarities singular to yourself.”
“Is it like a hemograph?”
Kroll clicked his beak, nodding his head forward and back, jiggling his worm-like fronds. “Very much so, though far more sophisticated. No need to pierce your flesh or spill your life’s blood.”
Ward reached toward the little box but held his hand back a few inches. “Will you let me see the report?”
Kroll made a trilling sound inside his bruise-colored beak. “Very unusual. I am permitted due to my high status, but it might raise questions. Still, the reflection apparatus has detected your sincere curiosity. I’ll allow you to read the analysis.”
Ward smiled and pressed his index finger to the center of the little box. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what would happen or if he’d be able to detect whatever it was, but after just a few seconds, his finger grew cold, and he felt a tingling rush of chills run down his arm.
“Hold still, now. The aetherometer must pull the full depth of your mana well’s resources, lest it not perform a full reading. Don’t trouble yourself; it won’t drain you any more than if you cast your limit of spells. Judging by your eyes, you’ve done a bit of spellcasting, yes?”
“Yeah,” Ward agreed, focusing on the cold, tingling sensation of the mana being drawn out of his body. He’d drained himself plenty of times practicing spells with Lisa, determining just how many spells he could cast without resting. It never seemed to harm him, and Lisa had been of the opinion that the more one used their mana, the better—like someone training their muscles.
“I believe it’s nearly finished. Hold still just a moment more, Mr. Dyer.”
“Right.” Ward could feel the pull lessening. The tingling had nearly faded from his arm and ceased entirely after a few more seconds.
“Good! Now observe.” Kroll pointed to the brass tube sticking out of the side of the little black box. While Ward watched, the tube frosted over with icy condensation, and then it began to emit a blue mist toward Kroll’s silver apparatus. Kroll leaned close to the side Ward couldn’t see, and his big eye moved left to right several times as he made clicking and humming sounds. “Very interesting, indeed, Mr. Dyer. I’m pleased to see that you’ve advanced your lycan bloodline to the point where we won’t have to consider you a threat to peace and stability. Some other readings of note, however. You have a pathway enhancement artifact?”
Ward sighed, nodding. “My tongue. Can I see the report?”
“Hmm, yes. As agreed.” Kroll pivoted the silver platter on its stand, letting Ward get a good look at the numbers and letters—like inky black lines etched into the shiny silver:
No previous analysis of this mana has been detected—storing for future comparisons.
Mana indicates an evolved human.
Bloodlines in order of prominence:
- Lycan – Prominent signs
- Aetherborn – Trace signs
- Dreadmarked – Trace signs
Bloodline Integration: Coexisting
Bloodline Tolerance Threshold: 52%
Accumulated Mana: 0
Mana Distribution: Natural – No allocation enchantments detected
Mana Well: Tier 4 – 9% to next tier, Enhanced regeneration from aetherborn bloodline – minor
Mana Sensitivity: Tier 4
Mana Pathways: Tier 5, 2 tiers from pathway artifact influence
Vessel Capacity: Tier 4
Vessel Durability: Tier 3 – 54% to next tier, Enhanced healing from lycan bloodline – notable, Enhanced bone density from lycan bloodline – moderate
Vessel Strength: Tier 3 – 79% to next tier, Enhanced physical power from lycan bloodline – notable
Vessel Speed: Tier 3 – 27% to next tier, Enhanced reflexes from lycan bloodline – moderate
Vessel Vitality: 85% – Tier-3 depletion rate
Anima Heart: Tier 1 – Emerging
Anima Pathways: Nascent
Anima: 12/100
“Well, shit,” Ward grunted. “That’s pretty interesting.” He ran his eyes over the report several times; then they came to rest on his previously unknown third bloodline. “Do you know what the hell a ‘dreadmarked’ bloodline is?”
Kroll’s beak clicked several times as his long, rubbery fingers intertwined on the table between them. “It’s good that you have highlighted that concerning detail for yourself, Mr. Dyer. While much about you is, indeed, remarkable and worthy of a Residential Prospectus on Primus, I’m afraid I’ll have to issue you a Limited Writ of Residency. So long as you remain in this world, and most especially in Ordo Caelus, you will undergo an examination like this on the first of each month. Should your dreadmarked bloodline show signs of progression beyond these trace levels, your writ will be revoked, and you will be remanded for immediate deportation.”
Ward felt his heart rate increase as the man went through his spiel. He forced himself to breathe evenly and listen to every word. It wasn’t the end of the world. He wasn’t being denied, and it sounded like he’d be allowed to stay so long as he didn’t advance his troubling-sounding bloodline. Gathering his emotions with a deep breath, he exhaled steadily through his nose, then asked, “But why? I admit it has a foreboding moniker, but what does it mean?”
“It’s on the list of prohibited bloodlines, Mr. Dyer. Beyond that, I cannot say; you’d have to do some research on your own. While I’m knowledgeable about much, I don’t have the details of every esoteric trait one might see on an aetherometer report.”
“Nothing at all?” Ward pressed.
Kroll shook his head, and his whistling voice sounded almost sorry as he said, “Only that it’s associated with calamity, though that’s a broad term, and I don’t know how calamitous or to whom.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Would you please wait a moment while I have your writ drawn up?”
Ward just nodded, both disappointed and relieved. Nothing had come up about Grace, and he supposed that was a win. Still, knowing his third bloodline was called “dreadmarked” did little but precisely what it was probably meant to—fill him with dread. The door clicked, and he looked up to see Kroll was gone. The table was cleared off, too. Ward peered underneath to see if that was where the arbiter’s strange devices had been stored. Nothing was there. “So he kept all that shit in his robes, huh?”
He only had to wait ten minutes or so before the door clicked, and Kroll returned with a large envelope stamped with an official-looking seal on the front. “This is your Limited Writ of Residency. Keep it safe, Mr. Dyer. On the first day of each month, report to the Gatekeeper’s office in the city nearest you. We have a presence in each of the major city-states.”
Ward took the envelope and stood, nodding. He slipped it into his inner coat pocket. “Thank you, Arbiter Kroll. Tell me, do they sell devices like that aetherometer in the city?”
“I’m sure you can find something similar. There are many talented tinkerers and artificers on Primus.” He gestured toward the door behind Ward. “You may exit through that door. The locked gates will ensure you move in the correct direction.” He inclined his head in a very modest bow. “Good luck, Mr. Dyer.”
“Right. Thank you again.” Ward sighed and left through the door behind him. He walked through several long hallways, finding junctions where only one pathway wasn’t barred by a bronze gate. After ten minutes or so, progressing through that weird, mazelike interior, he saw a bright opening ahead. The wolf in him wouldn’t let him walk slowly. He lengthened his strides, practically jogging toward the light. When he burst out into fresh air, he realized he’d reached the far side of The Proving Gate.
A broad courtyard of white marble decorated with planters of roses and other flowers opened onto a massive pier constructed of matching marble pillars and slabs. All the white stone in the bright sunlight made Ward squint, but he saw crowds of people out there on the jetty. And, in the distance, a great, steam-driven ferry painted gold and white was rumbling over the waves toward them.
“Well, Grace, if you’re listening, it looks like we made it. I’ll go find Haley now.” With a smile, breathing deeply of the clean air and enjoying the vast open expanse of blue-gray sky, he walked briskly toward the gathered crowd, hoping that Haley’s interview had gone faster than his.