B6C2 – Platinum Magick

It was the power of the Dimensional Conduits that had allowed Tyron to best the Golden Legion from within the null-magick field, but even he didn’t properly understand them. As someone who had dedicated years of his life to the study and mastery of conduit magick, Tyron considered himself as possibly the foremost expert within the Western Province at the time of its destruction.

He had never heard of dimensional conduits.

No lecture from Master Willhem, no hidden text, no scrap or hint or single line in any of the volumes he had pored over during the sleepless nights or isolated days. All of his efforts had been directed towards making his conduits as durable and lossless as possible, which extended their effective range considerably.

Upon his ascension to Platinum rank, he had been granted the knowledge of the Unseen. At first, he had focused on those techniques which allowed him to craft more powerful minions. A reasonable decision, given the battle he only just survived. Yet even then he had been drawn to this particular parcel of knowledge. Conduits were, after all, his speciality.

Now that he had a little room to breathe, he was finally able to devote all of his attention to them, and what he found was staggering.

His mind on fire, Tyron worked tirelessly, not even manipulating four different groups of demi-liches enough to keep pace with his thoughts. He burned with impatience, ignoring the demands of his body, the weather, the time of day, none of it mattered when compared to what he might learn next.

If not for Filetta ensuring that some wights were devoted to hunting and gathering food to shove in front of him, he wouldn’t have eaten at all. While the master of their souls conducted his research, the bulk of his minions continued to prepare remains and scour the battlefield for the dead. For days, the river ran red as the butchery continued, the ground stained with congealed blood so dark as to turn almost black.

Fires burned constantly, consuming the meat and offal and filling the air with the scent of roasted flesh.

Tyron paid no mind to any of it.

When at last he came out of his trance, he found himself trembling, shaking even, barely able to keep his feet as he leaned against a tree. Every part of him hurt, his head pounded, his eyes were crusted nearly shut and his fingers were raw and bloody.

Despite his terrible condition, he had a broad smile on his face. It was done. A crude design. He could acknowledge that now he had completed the work. The next version would be far superior, but that would have to come later. For now, this was proof that his concept would work and the first fruit of his new knowledge.

Dimensional Conduits would change everything for the Necromancer. Now, he could be in two places at once. Even that didn’t really cover it. He could be everywhere.

Without the tension of his new project to keep him going, Tyron felt his consciousness fade as weeks of sleepless nights and endless work finally caught up with him.

“And there he goes,” Filetta said, catching the Necromancer before he fell to the ground.

She’d expected him to go several hours ago, but he managed to hold on long enough to work out the final kinks in his design. Despite much of the Golden Legion’s camp being a tattered ruin, they’d been able to salvage an intact tent and rather fancy bedding in preparation for this moment. With the help of some minions, she managed to get Tyron inside, stripped and washed before throwing his unconscious form into the bed.

Once he was tucked in and resting comfortably, she stepped outside, posting guards with several mental commands. Outside, she found Dove, hands on his hips, looking at his former student’s latest creation.

“What in the name of all that is holy has he made now?” he wondered, staring at the thing. “I… I have no words. It looks hideous. Is he trying to make his creations as patently evil as possible? First the skull cauldrons and now this?”

As much as she wanted to defend Tyron, particularly to Dove, Filetta couldn’t help but agree with him. She knew he didn’t care what his creations looked like, focusing on the function rather than the form. Yet something this horrific couldn’t be an accident, right?

“What does it even do?” Dove huffed. “It’s beyond complicated. Stuffed with cores and arrays, it had better be fucking spectacular.”

“Well… you’ll have to wait until Tyron wakes up to explain it,” Filetta said, “because he didn’t tell anyone. Maybe Willhem could tell you a little about it? He helped with certain parts.”

“No thanks,” Dove shivered. “That guy intimidates me.”

It was two days before Tyron emerged again, blinking and scratching at his face as he wandered out of the tent in his underclothes.

“How dare you walk around in such an indecent fashion!” Dove squawked, sounding scandalised.

Blearily, the Necromancer looked at him.

“But there’s nobody here,” he mumbled, clearly still half asleep.

“Excuse me?!”

Tyron blinked a few more times.

“No people here,” he clarified, unhelpfully.

“I think I’m genuinely offended. Filetta, aren’t you offended? He’s denying our fundamental personhood!”

At the mention of her name, Tyron’s head whipped around to see the wight standing nearby, watching him with an impassive expression on her ghostly face.

“I’ll uh… put some clothes on,” he said, stumbling back into the tent.

Once he was suitably attired, Dove finally managed to wrangle him into explaining the function of his latest creation.

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“You can’t tell?”

“No,” Dove ground out, “I can’t tell.”

“Huh.”

“Shut up, Tyron! I swear I will throttle you on the spot if you don’t explain this hideous contraption this instant!”

Shrugging, the Necromancer decided he may as well. Seeing Dove be this curious, even if it made him furious, was still a positive sign that should be indulged. Besides, he had a little time. As soon as he had dressed himself, Filetta had served him a plate of poorly cooked meat and wild vegetables which he continued to munch on while pointing out how the construct would function.

“It’s a conduit relay,” he began.

“Nononono. First you have to explain why it looks like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like something out of a child’s nightmare!”