The Great Core's Paradox

Elara trailed far behind the group of guardsmen and warriors, being careful to stay outside of their ability to perceive her. It was difficult, and had meant that she’d needed to remove her distinctive armor to avoid notice - in the great halls of the White Towers, the black, enchanted armor of a Virtun Shadowguard drew attention from random civilians, let alone those she was attempting to hide from.

Admittedly, Elara had some concerns about walking around without her armor. Namely, that anyone who found it could steal it. However, with the seemingly terrifying reputation that the warriors of Virtun had within the White Towers, she thought the chance was unlikely. Even so, she’d made sure to hide the armor well.

She still carried her blade, of course, but that was hardly so distinctive - at least as long as it remained sheathed. When revealed to the light, it was another matter entirely. The many death-imbued crystals that had been interwoven into the very metal itself, achieving the same sort of superposition that had crippled her left arm, shone with a baleful purple glow that marked the weapon as anything but normal.

As Elara followed the group through the main junction of the White Towers, where the flying bridges that connected each of the three structures that formed its namesake connected, they were met by even more warriors to fill out their group. Her eyes roved across their ever-inflating numbers, taking a count. From its original set of ten, already enough armed and armored men that Elara would have hesitated in issuing a challenge, the group had grown to a full three dozen. Even they seemed surprised by their numbers, clearly unused to moving about in such large groups - and discomfited by the necessity.

Meanwhile, a crowd swirled around Elara as she continued to keep pace, the populace of the White Towers none the wiser to the happenings going on in their midst - even if a few were rather curious at the sight of so many guardsmen and warriors in the same place. A few enterprising individuals hawking their wares from stalls were set up at the edges of the junction, calling out to passersby, and shoppers eagerly stepped into place.

Elara’s ears, enhanced by her mana-given bodily control to an extreme degree, caught snippets of conversation between a few members of her quarry, even through the din of the crowd.

“...I’m supposed to be on leave for the rest of the week. What’s so important that those old bastards are calling everyone in like this?”

“I heard it’s something to do with the mines; word is that pretty much everyone inside died a few days ago - prisoners, guards, everyone. Very hush-hush, but Arthur’s always got his ear to the ground. Got in his cups and bragged to me about it earlier. You know how much he hated big ol’ Horik, that mean motherfucker. Just had to celebrate when he heard he was gone.”

“The freak’s dead? Huh. Good riddance.”

Whoever this Horik was, he wasn’t well liked. A few other men chimed in with similar words of agreement before they finally reached their destination. Peeking out from around a corner, Elara noted a set of double doors, left open wide to reveal a typical meeting room within, if the typical meeting room also served as an altar of wasteful opulence.

Why does a table need to be lined with enchanted metal?

Elara was certain that it served no real purpose other than to announce the wealth and power of those who owned it. And, while it was a powerful statement, Elara heavily disapproved - as she ever would, unless each and every one of the people in the rest of Erandur’s towers were outfitted with guardsmen and warriors possessing mana-enchanted metal just as those of the White Towers were.

It was a complete waste. Didn’t they see that -

Someone started talking, and Elara was forced to push her frustration aside.

“...all have questions. Well, here’s your answer. The mine’s been cleaned out. The prisoners - gone. The last of the xenlite we were waiting on - destroyed. The guards - dead, barring one.”

There was a momentary uproar, as those who hadn’t yet heard the news reacted with surprise and dismay, before a bid for silence turned the group of warriors towards listening again.

“...means that we’re going to have to push, and push hard. We have a very short amount of time to make up for our losses. It’ll be dangerous, trying to mine so quickly, far more so than it usually is. The miners will have to be worked to the bone and then some, if we’re going to finish in time.

“Unless you want you, or your brothers, or your sons, to be the ones down in those mines, working to the bone, we’ll have to find some help somewhere else. Luckily, there’s more than enough volunteers waiting for us in this city of so many towers - and, let’s be honest, would some of them really be missed? Ungrateful criminals in the making, the lot of them, always vying for what we have. What we worked for.”

There was a pause at that, and Elara heard a surprising amount of agreement for something so coldhearted. Ewan had been right. She clenched her jaw, fingers itching to wrap around the hilt of her sword. The disdain in the speaker’s voice made her blood boil, even as the topic at hand set it aflame. It almost sent Elara into a spiral of rage, reminded of her time spent enslaved by the Nature Core’s spores. Because this was the same; slavery, in all but name, just perpetrated by fellow humans instead of monsters.

Are they even planning on coming back from this?

Elara couldn’t even imagine how it would look to the other towers, seeing a raid placed upon one of their own - not by monsters, but humans. Ones that, with the absolute imbalance of power that currently held sway in Erandur, couldn’t truly be resisted. Would they just look away, thankful that it wasn’t happening to them? Because it wouldn’t happen to most of them. Erandur was known as the City of One Hundred Towers, and even if that number wasn’t strictly accurate, it meant that most of the towers would skate on by unmolested in the White Towers’ quest for captives.

Or would the other towers, seeing what the difference in strength meant they were worth, align themselves together and fight back?

Unfortunately, Elara had a feeling she knew what the answer was. Without someone - or something - to push them into it, most would just watch and be grateful that they were chosen to be spared. The difference in strength was just too high.

While Elara thought, the meeting continued apace. Soon enough, Captain Sario, who was leading it, finished assigning tasks to the gathered warriors and called for the group’s dismissal. By the time they tumbled out of the room, Elara was already gone.

Incensed, she made her way back to her room, quickly recovering her armor from its hiding place and donning it. As she tightened the straps, furiously pulling at the leather, someone spoke.

“I’m guessing it’s happening, then.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Elara startled, nearly jumping out of her skin, and only managed to prevent her heart from racing with a concerted effort of will. Her head jerked to the side, and she noted Ewan sitting off to the side, in one of the many far too many seats that the room contained. He looked distraught, far from the overconfident boy that had first challenged her to a duel in return for the chance of a date.

“When did you get here?” Elara asked, glaring at him in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Then, with a thought, she brushed the feeling away - and was embarrassed no longer. She kept the rage, though. It felt good.

Right.

“Who even let you in?” she continued. Elara had locked the door when she left. Though, once she thought about it, she realized it was unlikely that she’d possess the only key to the room. A thought that was confirmed a moment later, when Ewan held up a brass key by way of answer.

“I knocked. You didn’t answer. Figured, rather than wander around looking for you, I’d just wait for you to come back. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything. Thought you might be the same; based on how upset you are right now, I was right. So, like I said, it’s happening?”

Elara, deciding not to be upset at the invasion of privacy implied by the boy letting himself into her borrowed rooms - mostly because she’d proved time and time again that she could beat him into the ground any time she wanted - nodded her head.

“Yes, it’s happening. Which means that I don’t have time for this,” she said, turning her attention back towards violently adjusting the straps of her armor. Why were straps so frustrating slow to adjust? “I need to get out there and make sure nobody gets hurt. That nobody is made captive against their will just for the crime of being too weak to resist.”

Ewan looked surprised, and then conflicted. “That’s…noble of you. But you’re not thinking this through. I’ve fought you, and you’re…incredible, really. I’ve never seen anybody able to move the way that you do in a duel. And I’m sure that, with that armor, there’s a lot you can do that I haven’t even seen. But this isn’t a fight you can win. It wouldn’t be a duel. It would be…how many warriors?”

“Three dozen or so,” Elara quietly admitted, already starting to see where the conversation was headed.

“Three dozen, then,” Ewan agreed. “More than thirty warriors, all with armor and armaments enhanced by wind mana and coming for your throat. Can you dodge three dozen spears of deadly wind? If you can do it once, can you do it twice? Three times? Because you’d have to. And then there’s potential body enhancements to think about - do you really think that none among them would be more than human?”

Elara fumed, but Ewan continued. “Because let me tell you - they all are. Maybe they haven’t enhanced themselves to the degree that you clearly have, but they all have something. Speed, strength, durability. And, however small of an advantage those bring individually, the weight of numbers will more than make up for any superiority you might hold there.”

Elara opened her mouth to protest. “I can heal any…” she paused. She couldn’t heal her wounds; even if there was a Guardian Statue in the area, and even if its influence happened to spread far enough to reach whatever tower the White Towers’ warriors collected their captives from, Elara wasn’t attuned to it.

She…might have been too used to the advantages the [Little Guardian’s Totem] bestowed upon her. Finally seeing that her anger was making her think irrationally, Elara took a breath - and she purged it from her system. The fires of righteous indignation, that bonfire that had felt so strong as to set her very soul alight, were doused.

And Elara began to see more clearly.

Unfortunately.

With her rationality restored, Elara could admit that her idea was hopeless. There would be no rushing in like a savior to save those people. Not without a plan, and not when she was already having to play catch-up. By this point, they’d have left the tower and she would only be able to chase. It was a fight that, even with everyone with her - Doran, Erik, Kala, Valera, and the Little Guardian, all so strong and competent - wouldn’t be easy to emerge victorious from. Not without time to prepare the field beforehand.

In the embrace of a fully realized Guardian Grove, with a Guardian Statue nearby, Elara would have bet everything on their victory - but this wouldn’t be that.

“Fine,” she said. “Fine, you’re right, damn it.” Elara, the straps of her armor still only halfway cinched, threw herself onto the bed in frustration. “Skies, I hate that you’re right.”

Ewan barked out a laugh, the sound a short and clipped thing, and the two of them descended into frustrated silence. A few times, it seemed like Ewan was about to speak, opening his mouth as if to voice some thought or other - but, each time, he stayed silent.

“I hate this, too,” he admitted somberly. “You know, I grew up thinking that we earned everything that we had. That our home was the greatest in Erandur because we were the ones willing to work the hardest, to accept risks that others wouldn’t take, that it meant we deserved it.”

Elara remained silent, listening intently to Ewan’s words. There was a conflict there, mirrored on his face, a struggle between loyalty to his people and a growing awareness of the injustices they were willing to perpetrate.

“But now…” Ewan continued, voice tinged with bitterness and doubt, “now I’m starting to see that maybe we didn’t earn everything ourselves after all. I mean, it should have been obvious from the start! We catch way too many thieves slipping in from other towers. Criminals that get sent to work the mines for us. Sure, some of them probably are thieves, people do steal sometimes, but after this…I’m equally as sure that some of them aren’t. We need miners, and nobody in their right mind would actually want to do it, with potential null-water hidden behind every nook and cranny. So…prisoners to do it for us. Skies, I’m a damn idiot.”

Slumping in his chair, Ewan looked like his world was crashing down around him. “I don’t think that we can do this anymore. It’s short-sighted, cruel, even if it ends up working this time. And…I’m assuming it won’t. You aren’t planning on leaving this be, are you?”

Elara shook her head. “Not a chance. I may not be able to stop the prisoners from being taken on such short notice, but I can set them free afterwards.” She hesitated, and then decided to just say it. “The others will agree with me on that end, too. Besides, the mine exists for Virtun. I told you our history with them. Even if it wasn’t cruel, we would probably want to put a stop to it. No sense in giving them something they want.”

Ewan nodded slowly. “And, if you do, Virtun takes the Wind Core and the mines as punishment as per the contract.”

Before Elara could muster a proper response to that, Ewan straightened in his seat and peered carefully in Elara’s direction. His eyes were focused, surprisingly clear. “Is it true, what you told me - about your Little Guardian’s powers? The…healing, the food, the protection it can offer?”

Surprised by the sudden interest, Elara only nodded.

“The deal we have with Virtun has done a lot for us. But, believe me, I grew up here. I know the people. Despite all this, most of them aren’t cruel. They’re just people. People who didn’t play any part in the decisions being made, even if those same decisions ended up making their lives better. Losing the Wind Core…it would hurt.”

Ewan laughed. “But I guess that’s going to happen, anyway, isn’t it? And I suppose we don’t really deserve to keep it, either. So…I want to make you a deal.”

Elara perked up at the serious tone in Ewan’s voice, leaning in close just as he did the same. “What kind of deal?” she asked.

Ewan took a deep breath before continuing, his words measured and deliberate. “I want to see it - and, if you prove what you say is true, and my people can receive its benefits as well, then I’ll do everything that I can to assist you. I’ll help turn my people against Virtun. It shouldn’t be hard; they’re easy to dislike. I’ll spread the truth about the mines. People will believe me, with my father being who he is. I’ll even…” he swallowed, “...I’ll even push heavily for punishment for every person that has taken part in sending innocents there to be exploited. Including my father.”

“And, finally…” he said. “I’ll make sure we trade you the Wind Core for it.” He smiled, a wry twist of his lips, both tremulous and determined. “It’s either trade it to you in return for the power you offer, or lose it to Virtun in return for nothing, right? Shouldn’t be that hard of a sell. We’d be breaking a contract, but…apparently, we’ve already done far worse for far less. I don’t think that will end up being the deciding issue.”

Elara would have thought about it, but there wasn’t much to think about. She didn’t really care about the contract made with Virtun. In her eyes, any agreement made with a city willing to do what had been done to her home was worth less than the paper it was written on. They didn’t deserve to have their deals honored, because she knew that - if they thought they could get away with it - they wouldn’t honor their part, either. And, despite Ewan’s age and lack of true political power, he seemed remarkably sure that he could succeed in everything he offered.

The perks of growing up as the son of one of the most powerful men of his city, she assumed.

Ewan leaned in a little closer, asking one final time. “So…will you prove it to me?”