Chapter 12

Chapter 12

In the hours following the meeting, the fort erupted into fervent activity. Whistles pierced the stillness, summoning soldiers from their slumber, the scramble of boots and clattering of equipment creating a cacophonous symphony above. From the depths of Alaina’s subterranean dwelling, Carrack could only make out muffled noises—a symphony of chaos that reverberated through layers of earth and stone.

Occasionally, a particularly loud disturbance overhead would catch his attention, drawing his eyes to the ceiling. But mostly, he remained engrossed in his own thoughts, surrounded by the soft, earthen aroma of a room where Alaina cultivated her crop of potatoes. She had left earlier, keen to oversee any issues during the troop mobilization. While Carrack had the desire to go above to help in the mustering, his injured leg stifled any such desires, leaving him to his contemplations amidst the roots and soil.

Carrack caressed the verdant leaves that sprouted from the soil. Their usual green was tempered by Alaina’s mystical tampering, causing the edges to take on a peculiar purple hue. But the room was noticeably sparse, with vast patches of hand-tilled earth barren of mature vegetation. Seeds sprouted inconsistently, with many succumbing before even pushing through the surface.

Alaina had poured immense effort into coaxing life from this unnatural environment, but the right balance remained elusive. Only the Dwarves, secluded and almost mythical in their existence, were believed to have mastered subterranean agriculture. Yet their reclusion from the wider world made them distant legends, with little interest in the affairs of men and a well-known territorial ferocity. Their true nature was still but a guess to the average man.

Alaina’s voice pierced the stillness, catching Carrack off-guard. “Honestly, I thought a gaping wound in your leg might convince you to obey when I say to stay in bed,” she remarked, standing at the doorway with an arch of her brow.

“Just needed to give my muscles a little stretch.”

“The muscles that were torn apart only a few hours ago?” Alaina replied. “Yes, of course, makes sense.”

“I would apologize, but you know I’m not one to sit idly for long, wounds or no.”

“Wouldn’t have accepted it anyways, your apology. Part of me half-expected to find you trying to climb up those stairs.” Alaina approached the plants, brushing a finger over their leaves.

“Hurts too much,” Carrack admitted, massaging the bandaged area on his leg. “I’m restless, but I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Alaina plucked a frail plant gently, a smirk forming. “Well, let’s hope miracles come in pairs then.”

“I’m just hoping for this miracle,” Carrack said, motioning to the plants. “Any breakthroughs?”

A cloud of disappointment shadowed Alaina’s expression. “Growing them isn’t the hurdle. The challenge, as I’ve mentioned, isn’t making a magical greenhouse. It’s time.”

Carrack nodded. “Time.”

“Yes, time,” she echoed. “I can’t expedite their growth to where they’re ready for mass consumption.”

“I never assumed this would be simple, but—”

Alaina interrupted, “But it’s a daunting task. It’s akin to concocting a potion that hastens a child’s growth or reverses aging. Manipulating time, even in theory, is a monumental task.”

Carrack sighed dramatically. “My whimsical notions about magic continue to be shattered by your pragmatic approach.”

Alaina chuckled before saying, “Such practices aren’t impossible. Yet, they lie beyond what I know or can achieve. I doubt even the most accomplished magicians could muster such a feat.”

Carrack’s gaze swept across the room. “So, are you hinting that this endeavor may be … impossible?”

“No, not impossible,” Alaina corrected. “Just … intricate. The simplicity of plants masks their inherent complexity.”

Carrack pointed to the thriving plant with a purple tinge. “This one seems promising.”

“It is … intriguing,” she admitted, inspecting it closely.

“Did you apply the same method to others?”

She shook her head. “This was a solitary experiment.”

“Maybe it’s time to replicate this success?” he suggested.

She hesitated. “The process is resource intensive. It drained my supplies, and I can’t confirm its edibility yet.”

“What supplies are we talking about?” Carrack probed.

Alaina looked away, discomfort evident in the line of her mouth. “The ingredients are rare. You won’t find them on this island. It’s impractical.”

“We’re cornered, Alaina. We need solutions, not obstacles.” Carrack’s voice grew tense. “If this is our best shot, tell me what you need.”

“It’s a dead end.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Alaina—”

She raised her voice, cutting him off: “It’s not worth it!”

The echo of Alaina’s voice lingered, casting a hush over the room. The distant, subdued bustle from the fort seeped in, emphasizing the sudden stillness. Carrack, always accustomed to Alaina’s calm demeanor, was taken aback. He had seen her face Weiss’s relentless probing without batting an eyelid. Her uncharacteristic outburst now left Carrack grappling with unease.

Recognizing Carrack’s disconcerted expression, Alaina attempted to smooth over the rupture in their conversation. “Please understand, sir,” she began, “some of my methods exact a heavy toll. Not just on my resources, but on my very essence. I’d rather not delve into specifics, but believe me when I say it’s not a path we want to tread. The results could render me … incapacitated, to put it lightly.”

A sharp pain lanced through Carrack’s injured leg, causing him to clench his fists reflexively. The discomfort, physical and emotional, was palpable. He finally said, “I understand. I need to remember that your craft has its boundaries, and I still have much to learn about it.”

“It’s intriguing,” Alaina said as she rose and began to meander about the room, engaging in assorted tasks, “that someone as well-traveled and experienced as you claims to have met only one mage in their life. Namely, me. Hard to fathom, really.”

“I won’t deny there might’ve been one or two I’ve crossed paths with without knowing. Brief exchanges, inconspicuous meetings, and the like. But, before you, my understanding of mages was primarily based on what I heard or read. No real personal interactions or conversations,” Carrack mused.

Alaina quirked a brow. “And I’m rather curious about the picture those tales painted of us.”

Carrack grinned. “Well, if I went by every bit of hearsay I’ve heard, I’d think that storks are the couriers of babies and Dwarves ate nothing but rocks.”

“I’ve heard that one too,” Alaina chuckled, recalling a familiar myth about mages. “It’s said we only associate with beautiful people, absorbing their allure like plants do sunlight.”

Carrack hesitated momentarily, collecting his thoughts. The age-old belief was that mages, irrespective of gender, bore an intrinsic beauty. Alaina, with her striking features, only reinforced that notion for him. “Stories that celebrate beauty always find more eager listeners than tales of the ordinary or grim.”

“Yet so many are foolish.” She rifled through her papers, her tone taking on a touch of scorn. “While I know that I’m not hard on the eyes, the stereotype of all mages being exceptionally comely baffles me. Many haven’t laid eyes on mages who barely hover above the destitute, using modest enchantments to earn a meager meal. You, I’m sure, have unknowingly encountered more mages than you realize. Many prefer anonymity, their talents known only to an inner circle.”

“The image of them is far removed from the influential court mages of yore, those who counseled kings and nobles,” Carrack remarked.

“Such an odd period,” Alaina mused, shaking her head. “To grant a mage significant political clout without checks and balances never made sense to me. It’s a wonder the subsequent uprisings and purges didn’t wipe us out entirely.”

Carrack’s thoughts drifted to the infamous Fulcrum War, a dark chapter in the annals of the continent. Centuries earlier, when a plethora of small realms, fiefs, and territories jostled for supremacy, mages often occupied the role of counsel next to every ruler. While forbidden from participating as weapons of war, they excelled in courtly politics, science, and even the orchestration of royal lineages. But such a precarious balance crumbled when a circle of mages plotted to overthrow the established order on a day known as the Veilfall Night. The retaliation was swift and brutal, with wars that razed lands and purges that nearly obliterated magic users. Carrack found himself agreeing with Alaina: it was a wonder any mage had survived that tumultuous era.

“With the gift of hindsight, history always seems riddled with missteps. Future generations will undoubtedly critique our actions just as we do our predecessors’,” Carrack mused. “For instance, choosing to settle on this island: storm-battered, barely self-sustaining.”

“Or endorsing today’s particular mission,” Alaina added pointedly.

Carrack’s eyes narrowed. “Do you believe today’s choices will reverberate through time?”

“Not in the annals of history, per se,” she clarified. “But certainly in the collective memory of those here, especially for you.”

Carrack sighed. “I was referring to a broader legacy, not the immediate aftermath.”

“Both perspectives are valid,” Alaina argued. “While we analyze the Fulcrum Wars from a distance, we also self-reflect, questioning our own past decisions. That personal retrospection is as significant as any historical account. Someday, we’ll reflect about this very moment, wondering if we made the right call.”

Carrack pondered her words. “And when you look back on today, reflecting on our circumstances here, how do you anticipate you’ll feel?”

Alaina paused, seemingly lost in thought. “I believe,” she finally said, choosing her words carefully, “that, regardless of the outcome, we’ll remember you as someone who did his best.”

A chill ran down Carrack’s spine as Alaina’s words settled in. The thought of today’s turmoil being mere footnotes in a distant memory was both comforting and disquieting. “I can only strive for my best, and hope that it’s enough. But there’s this looming fear inside me that suggests I may not live long enough to reflect upon these times.”

Alaina arched an eyebrow. “Such gloomy premonitions aren’t like you. Cautious, yes, but you speak of dread so casually. Rest assured, I’ll ensure that neither you nor the garrison go hungry.”

“It’s not the thought of starvation that bothers me,” Carrack countered, “but the desperation of the people outside. If push comes to shove, they could overrun us. Yes, I could point our guns at them, even unleash our cannon meant for ships, but if they’ve lost all hope … we’re doomed.”

The mood was solemn, but Alaina smirked, her eyes dancing with a mischievous glint. “If that day comes, I’ll take as many as I can with me. They’ll remember the fight—it’ll be a tale for the ages.”

Carrack let out a rueful laugh. “The very fires of hell unleashed.”

She waved him off. “Perhaps. But knowing my luck, I’d probably implode before setting the world ablaze. Still, it’d be quite the spectacle.”

“The mood has turned darker than I anticipated with this chat,” Carrack observed, chuckling.

“Oh, absolutely!” Alaina exclaimed, feigning exasperation. “I already live in a basement, Carrack. There’s no need to darken the ambiance any further!”

Their laughter echoed briefly, a fleeting moment of levity amidst the tension. But Carrack’s thoughts soon clouded over, and he grappled with a question he felt compelled to ask.

“You’ve checked in on Harper, haven’t you?”

Alaina looked taken aback. “No, not yet. Should I?”

“With what’s on the horizon, I believe it might be wise to settle any pressing matters. To be prepared for any challenges we might face,” he suggested.

She paused, thoughtful. “Other than the routine procedures, I haven’t done anything extra for him. But it may be prudent, given the looming storm. Should I help you to rest first?”

Carrack began to rise from his chair, pushing past the pain. “Actually, I’d like to accompany you.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ve never shown interest in observing my work before.”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Harper’s dilemma comes from decisions I made. I spoke to him while we were out there. Somehow, it feels … necessary to be there. Can’t quite explain it, but I hope you understand.”

Reading the sincerity in his eyes, Alaina nodded slowly. “I understand. Let’s go, then.”