Patrick, Invictus and Irene were all Initiates. To send them off on a mission, alone, across several countries was akin to a death sentence. Or at least, it should have been. Yet not a one of them was normal.
Between their uniquely powerful innate abilities, their ability to detect and avoid dangerous enemies from afar, and the special, golden card that Invictus used, the actual combat level of their group could be considered to be at the Arcanist level. That, combined with the fact that they would always be underestimated, and generally avoid arousing suspicion due to their relatively weak ranks, they beca the perfect soldiers to infiltrate other countries.
Creta, unlike Saint Codale which was ruled by sects, was ruled by the royal family. The centralised power ant that Creta’s relatively few resources could all be put to good use. Even though many considered Creta to be the weakest country in the world, their continued survival was not due to the generosity or kindness of others. Instead, they had learned to live with the natural dangers that filled the country, making them the foremost authority in surviving in highly cursed or dangerous areas. They used those very dangers as forms of self defense, keeping the armies of other countries at bay.
What all of that ant for Patrick and the rest was that they could not just ride horses through the wilderness. In Saint Codale, if they were spotted traveling, they could simply pretend to be from another Sect, traveling for whatever reason. Here, they needed proper Creta identification to travel on the protected routes.
Since they could not do that, they had to bear the risk of traveling the wilderness, but in that case riding a mount increased their chances of being spotted. So they traveled by foot, maintaining a light jog and taking frequent but short breaks in between.
It was far from safe, or easy, but conversely, their low ranks and few numbers also ant that they attracted less attention and the chances of them being targeted by stronger curses were low.
Due to their gradual, yet consistent pace, it took them six days to reach Enfield. Even from afar, the sprawling city looked magnificent, truly deserving of capital. In person, it was the exact opposite of what one would expect, at least based on Kolari school education.
A nation starved of food and deprived of resources, Creta was supposed to be weak. But reality was the greatest testant to the true worth of this belittled country. They had learned to live with the land, learned to harness its challenges, taming it for themselves. Just as the Kolaris were a testant of how strong soldiers humanity could produce, Cretans were a marvel of their ingenuity and survival skills. As Patrick looked at the city from afar, Emonsfield looked less a construct of man and more a monunt of mankind’s sheer tenacity. Truly, no one in this world could be underestimated.
Made entirely of large, grey rocks mined from the surrounding hills, filled with clay dug from the ground, designed by the old Sages, Emnsfield was equally a city, and one, massive continuous castle of grey.
The city walls ended in the water, naturally unable to completely surround the city. Yet all other sides were protected behind tall structures, pulsing with an imnse amount of aether.
There were three gates leading in and out of the city, and without proper identification, it was impossible to enter. Fortunately, they did not need to enter to et their contact.
There were a number of small settlents around 30 kiloters (18.5 miles) away from the city walls, acting as logistics hubs for resources coming in and going out of the city. While these, too, were heavily protected, it was much easier to approach them.
The group approached one such settlent while a sparrow tattoo grew out of Irene’s body and flew away to deliver a ssage. A short while later, a trader left the settlent with several cals carrying goods to be taken into the city.
Patrick and his group seamlessly mixed in with them, and no one said anything, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world. Under the guise of workers for the trader, they entered the city with proper identification, and were then led to a safehouse.
Within a matter of hours, they had rested, eaten, recovered fully and then had been put on a transport carriage that joined another trade caravan, heading towards the Novan border.
Now, with proper transport, it only took them one day to reach the border. Even that was only because of how many checkposts there were on the official roads, for Ensfield was actually quite close to Nova. Only one river and one set of hills separated the capitals of the two nations.
Despite the short distance between the two, the difference between the countries was imdiately obvious. It was not just because Nova had a lot more greenery than Creta. The presence of Novan technology, which was present everywhere, made it seem like they had entered an entirely new world.
Drones flew overhead, monitoring each move made by the caravan as they crossed the border, where soldiers were already waiting to scan everything that was brought into the country.
The security at the border had not always been so strict - it was only the recent terrorist attacks on the country which had caused such mobilisation. Yet the trio were not worried. Once they were in Nova, even if their identities as Kolaris was discovered, it would not be as big of an issue. The relations between both countries were quite good.
Of course, the best case scenario would still be if no one discovered them. Fortunately, the network established by Whisper Guard proved to be extrely reliable. Even with their many thods of scanning and investigating, the Novans were unable to find anything amiss with the trio’s identity docunts, allowing them easy access into their country.
Once in Nova, they switched from carriages to trucks, and in only a few hours they reached Masvail. If the sight of Ensfield awed Patrick, then Masvail was beyond anything he had ever even imagined. It was beyond what could be real - beyond what should be real.
Skyscrapers filled the skyline of the city, and thousands of flying ships patrolled the skies around it. Artificial canals brought water into the city, filled with small ships, of both civilians and the army.
There was not a single curse nor speck of cursed energy in sight. Instead, Masvail was a massive, pulsing whirlwind of aether, consuming and producing energy beyond what Patrick could comprehend.
"How is this possible?" he whispered. How could such a massive entity be maintained without suffering endless curse attacks? The aether in the city was so dense, Patrick could feel it from far away.
"The world is a big place," Irene whispered to him, though she herself was just as srised by the beauty of the city as he was struck by its grandeur. Invictus, too, watched in awed silence as he beheld the most technologically advanced city in the world.
Upon gazing at such a sight... upon beholding two such back to back grand achievents of humanity, Patrick could not help but wonder if humanity really was as weak as he once thought they were. Were they really barely surviving this cursed world, or were the curses the only thing holding humanity back from conquering it?
Their sense of wonder did not decrease, but only increased as they closed in on the city, able to see its many amazing features up close and in person. But by then, at least, the three had composed themselves.
They barely got a glimpse of what Masveil truly contained before they found themselves in the Kolari embassy, submitting an encrypted report. It would then be sent to Whisper Guard, and in a few days...
"Get up kid, you’re following ," said Edward who appeared behind Patrick, seemingly out of nowhere, starting all three of them.
Invictus, especially, was alard because he had not sensed the man coming at all, which should have been impossible.
"Dad!" Patrick exclaid, a grin painting his wide face, yet Edward did not give him back his usual smile. Instead, a very serious, almost furious gaze looked back at him.
"What’s wrong?" he asked, feeling like sothing had gone horribly wrong.
The only response he got was Edward’s foot in his face.
"You ungrateful piece of shit! How dare you get married without telling ?" Edward roared as he started to beat up his son, leaving a seriously bewildered, and honestly frightened, Invictus.
Irene, of course, saw none of that. In her eyes, her father-in-law had walked into the room wearing a pleasant smile, and greeted them all filled with extre emotions. The father and son had a grand reunion after years of separation, while Edward placed a hand on Irene’s head and gave her his official blessing, welcoming her to the Grant family, apologising for his son’s many, many shortcomings.
"Dad, I think you broke my hip bone!" Patrick cried, but it didn’t work. Even his passive ability had stopped working, leaving him unable to absorb the fold to boost his own defense, leaving him at the rcy of his raging father.
Deep inside, he was horrified. How could soone interfere with his innate ability? How was that possible?
"Dad you’re not supposed to actually kick the ass!" Patrick yelled, hoping his father would relent.
"Oh, so now you’re going to teach your father how to do things?" Edward roared once more.
Invictus hid in the corner, completely forgotten, and entirely happy for it.
"So Patrick won’t be returning to Kolar with us?" Irene asked, a hint of disappointnt in her voice.
"Unfortunately not," Edward said to her apologetically. "He needs to join the cross-fog expedition in their training. It’s about to start now, and will last three years, give or take. For you, Marilyn has made so arrangents back in Kolar. Of course, you can also choose to go through KMA, if you wish, but if you plan on leaving the army after the mandatory enlistnt period is over, I recomnd you take the path she has selected for you. In the long run, it will help you out a lot."
Irene sighed, while Patrick wailed, and Invictus whimpered.
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