LMS VII: Age of Bonds

Heyo mint! This sounds like a super interesting premise: I don't think I've read many stories that are about the loss of magic from a place. Best of luck with your project!!

Hi @Liminality, thanks for stopping by!! And yay, glad you think it's interesting :3

The unfortunate thing about the ability to speed up time, Councillor Vayuna muses, is that it is ineffective on mental conversations. Naturally, she reveals no hint of that thought to her current partner in telepathic communication.

“Noted, Lieutenant Muzœ. In the future, there is no need to go into quite so much detail on the exploits of individual soldiers. An overview will suffice,” Vayuna subvocalizes. The tetrahedron on her pinky finger’s ring glows softly as it transmits her communication through the bond between herself and Muzœ. The various other tetrahedrons on her person, each representing a different bond, sway gently as she stands up from her desk. “Please remember that my particular role is to determine how the capital–and Riwo as a nation–can best aid the war effort. As such, I would prefer details on planned troop movement, equipment status, and the like, rather than heroic stories, entertaining though they may be.” Muzœ’s response comes as an apologetic voice in her mind.

Vayuna’s office is modest for a councillor of the Second Circle. It houses a single desk, two chairs, a bookcase, and a potted plant that is clinging desperately to its last flicker of life. The small window looks down at the street, which is busy with morning vendors hawking their wares. She claims it helps keep her ego in check, in contrast to the First Circle councillors who unanimously boast mansions for homes.

As one of the twenty elected councillors of the forty councillors of the Second Circle, Vayuna also takes care to maintain her image as one who cares about the common people. Now, she finishes listening to Muzœ’s wartime report and prepares for her weekly tour of the capital.

She hires the usual Looper to transport her around the city. Bo greets her with a smile, the whiteness of his teeth a contrast to his trousers and shirt, which are already dust-stained from ferrying passengers and goods around since early in the morning.

“How are ya, Councillor?”

“Well, thank you. And yourself?” Vayuna steps into the carriage.

“Good, good. Just the young’uns have caught a cold, and the missus is complaining ‘bout the war dragging on so long, but hey, there’s a sale at the market today and- ah, apologies, councillor, I’ll have to recapture the wheels turning. Last did early this morning and it’s not cheap to keep replaying ‘em from that distance.”

As Vayuna settles herself in the carriage, Bo shouts, “Carriage starting up!” The few scattered pedestrians on the road in front of them clear out of the way, and Bo walks to the back of the carriage. He plants his hands securely on the lightweight frame, then begins to push. The wheels gradually pick up speed, and soon enough Bo swings himself along the side of the carriage and back into the driver’s seat.

The tetrahedrons strung along a necklace Bo is wearing glow as he draws on his bonds for power. The wheels of the carriage continue spinning at the same speed as Bo uses his chronomancy to replay the fastest revolution. He chooses slower revolutions as he navigates around corners or is blocked by traffic.

The sides of the carriage are open to the outside, and the breeze carries scents of spices and grilled meats to the councillor’s nose. Vayuna sets her face in a kindly yet serious expression and she nods at the occasional person she recognizes. Less often, she asks Bo to stop as she purchases goods and chats with vendors.

She is about to purchase bread from one such vendor when she sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. “Thief!” the vendor shrieks, pointing at the retreating back of a scrawny boy. The thief clutches a loaf to his chest as he sprints towards the mouth of an alleyway.

Now, Vayuna isn’t in the habit of destroying city property, but occasionally she makes exceptions. She dashes after the thief and draws on the power stored in her bonds. The cobblestones in front of the thief age rapidly and crumble to gravel. His next step lands awkwardly, slowing him just enough for Vayuna to speed up the lifecycle of the twine carrying a load of drying laundry. The twine disintegrates and billowing sheets drop onto the boy, immobilizing him in writhing color.

Before he can struggle to his feet and take off again, Vayuna grasps his wrist and tows him back to the vendor.

“A hundred thanks to you, Councillor Vayuna!” The vendor gives the boy the stink-eye. “We’ll see to it that this thief is handled properly.”

The boy, thrashing around and attempting to free himself from her grip, glares at Vayuna. “Vayuna? Ley say you le one looks out for le commin people. What ‘bout me? Commin as ley come.”

Vayuna notes the Alleys dialect. “You broke the law. I recognize that-”

“Oi yeah? Le law broke my fam’ly.” He spits in her face, then immediately his eyes go wide, fear of the consequences warring with rage.

They’ve made quite a scene. Shoppers at nearby stalls lean in, not bothering to be subtle. The vendor can’t take her eyes off of them. On the street, pedestrians slow down to stare. Vayuna takes all this in with a glance, then calmly wipes the spittle off her cheek.

Yes, leaving the thief with a severe warning–perhaps a withered finger, to remind him when his hands get too sticky–would show her strength. But mercy would win the hearts of the downtrodden, the laborers and criminals who curse the deaf First Circle in the Alleys dialect.

“I see you have strong opinions about how the government could be improved. How would you like a job?”

The boy is frozen in terror. “N-no, Councillor, I-I’m sorry! Don’t send me to le mines, or to le war, or-”

“Nothing of that sort. I simply thought your nimble fingers might be put to better use in aiding my researchers, perhaps the ones that specialize in investigating bonds and improving their efficiency. It won’t be easy work, but it’ll be more stable than being a thief. Now then, what is your name?”

The boy’s mouth gapes open for a long moment.

mint I love how you're showing the different aspects of Vayuna character! Even in the description of her home we see that she's politically minded and good at image crafting, but also authentically seems to be a practical person without much beyond the bare necessities. Her impatience with the lieutenant in the dialogue also shows her focus on efficiency and pragmatism. I assumed a Councillor would be a more passive? managerial? person, so seeing her directly stop the thief herself was also really interesting and adds layers to her personality.

@Liminality Thank you so much!! Appreciate you stopping by and noticing the details ^-^

Finally, he mumbles, "Gawi."

"Alright, Gawi, what do you say to employment at my personal laboratory?" She gestures at the carriage. "We'll go straight there. You may return for any belongings you might have tomorrow."

Gawi looks around, then seems to realize that he has no choice and hesitantly climbs into the carriage. Vayuna feels a slight twinge of guilt at effectively kidnapping the child and forcing him to work for her. But she is certain it will at least be a better life than begging and stealing on the streets.

Bo takes them back to the city center and stops in front of a building constructed in the Zezhaw style, all straight lines and unexpected angles. Once, it was the height of modernity. A few decades later, its dated appearance and dilapidated state had made it a relatively inexpensive purchase for Vayuna, who'd converted it into a place for personal projects on improving bond efficiency. Vayuna thanks and compensates Bo, then ushers Gawi through the triangular entrance.

The narrow entranceway soon opens into a space cluttered with tables, tetrahedrons, and tools. Researchers bustle between workstations, occasionally consulting with colleagues or noting results down on pads of paper.

A man holding a particularly thick notebook soon notices them and rushes over. "Councillor Vayuna. Is there anything you require assistance with?"

"Good afternoon, Gorvu." Vayuna looks critically at Gawi's dirt-streaked face and fraying shirt. "Please send me Reulibu for the weekly report. Then get this boy cleaned up and see if he may be of assistance anywhere."

Gorvu nods once, leaves, and returns within a few moments, Reulibu in tow. As Gorvu leads Gawi away, Vayuna beckons Reulibu into a side room and closes the door.

The researcher adjusts his spectacles as he takes a seat across from Vayuna. Vayuna sinks back into her chair, allowing herself to relax her posture for the first time that day. A tetrahedron on Vayuna's pinky finger and one on Reulibu's index finger begin to glow, pulsing exactly in time with each other.

"Didn't take you for the type to start an orphanage," Reulibu remarks, raising an eyebrow. "You realize it's unlikely that the boy will be of much use."

"I remember you looked even more disheveled when you were that age." Vayuna smirks. "And look at you now, esteemed researcher and expert in bond efficiency."

"Fine, fine. I shall reserve judgement on his abilities. And I suppose at worst, we can use him as a lab rat," Reulibu jokes. Then his expression becomes serious. "Speaking of, we've refined our results into something that seems market-ready. Coating bond tetrahedrons with a thin layer of our formula consistently allows bonds to charge using any emotion, not simply positive ones."

Vayuna leans forward. "Any downsides? Is it still less efficient than positive emotions?"

"No short-time effects. The efficiency is comparable now."

"This is excellent news." Vayuna grins. "If only we'd had this back in our academy days. We could've charged our bond even while actively arguing with each other." She glances at the tetrahedron on her pinky finger and can feel the bond charging as they spend time amicably together, gathering power that she can later use to speed up time. At their bond's level, over four thousand combined hours, they have access to other benefits as well, but thus far she hasn't had the need for any other than telepathy. Swapping chronomancy abilities, physical conditions, locations, etc. are expensive and not particularly useful for them.

"Indeed." Reulibu frowns for a moment. "I know we've discussed it before, and I generally trust your judgement, but I want to remind you to step carefully. We've managed to keep this secret so far, but I expect it won't be long until word gets out. Something like this, especially, has great potential to be abused."

"I'll increase security at the lab. And restricting sales to only those with bond levels of over five hundred hours should help ensure usage for legitimate reasons." Vayuna stands up and begins to pace. "It'll be difficult at first, but I truly believe this will help Riwo. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's wished bonds could be charged with any emotion. No two people have a relationship in which they're happy with each other all the time, and being unable to charge because of minor frustrations with each other is inefficient. And of course, it'll aid the war effort against Zheloa." She stops and meets Reulibu's gaze. "I don't say this enough. You and your fellow researchers are brilliant. This is genuinely revolutionary."

Reulibu smiles at that. He opens his mouth to speak, then freezes.

Vayuna frowns. "Reulibu?" She looks around. A Freezer? But why would they only stop time for Reulibu and not Vayuna? She pushes open the door and sees the other researchers, similarly statue-like. Adrenaline rushes through her as she walks to a window. The street looks like a painting, each carriage and tree motionless.

She turns back to the office. Vayuna sees herself exiting along with Reulibu. Somehow, she knows it is the future. She will walk towards the exit, a slight frown on her face. Reulibu will notice, but Vayuna will brush it off as being due to thinking about details of announcing the new invention.

Time as she knows it collapses. Vayuna inhaled/inhales/will inhale. "Reveal yourself."

"I have/am/will." The voice has always been/is/will always be unfathomable. It is feeling like telepathy, but is filling her mind until it is as if there is lacking room for her own thoughts.

An Ascended? But I will think those were usually found closer to the battlefield…

"Soon, I step down. I searched/search/will search for a worthy successor. They took care of this universe while I moved on to something new."

It is being difficult to think. Then the pressure subsided and Vayuna will walk back to the office… No, she walks back, weaving through the motionless figures. Vayuna's mind fires furiously as she takes a seat back in her chair.

That felt beyond an Ascended. A being with the ability to make one lose one's entire sense of time, as if it determined whether time existed or not… Is this the god the Zheloans worship?

"I think so too," Reulibu says.

Vayuna looks up sharply.

Reulibu continues, "Thank you, we've all put in a lot of work these past few years." And Vayuna knows that he experienced nothing of what has just happened to her.

Vayuna's mind spins. A "worthy successor", she remembers. Surely it is not a coincidence that the Ascended–deity? being?-- appeared to her specifically. The implications are staggering. But, well, she has always been one to be ambitious. Now it appears she has something more to strive for than simply the downfall of the First Circle.

Chapter 2
The Destroyer

Shenoi stares into the depths. Even with the noontime sun glaring harshly into the chasm, shadows quickly obscure the crags and crevices until it feels like a nightmare half-remembered, lurking in smooth darkness and unexpected sharpness. Funny that such an evil-looking landmark could be one of the foundations of modern life, providing rezeu ore that can be refined into sacred bond-making tetrahedrons. Though that is not to say it hasn't also brought its share of horrors into the world…

As if to signal the beginning of another such horror, a runner comes up to Shenoi, wiping sweat from his brow. "The alarm has been sounded. The Riwons approach."

Shenoi nods and begins the short walk back to the warcamp. She does not care much for who controls the chasm, nor does she hold any particular loyalty towards the Sheloan army. She is first and foremost an engineer, and it just so happens that war is an excellent motivator for innovation, and for the government to invest funds in said innovation.

Aides scurry around the camp, relaying final orders. Shenoi ducks into the tent reserved for engineers. There is an eerie quiet in the tent, as the dozen other engineers feel the weight of responsibility. They have been losing the war, and Sheloa is relying on technological innovation to make up the gap.

Shenoi glances outside of the tent in time to see the Riwon army approaching from across the plains. Their armor gleams in the sun, the blinding brightness a stark contrast from the depths of the chasm. The Sheloan army is waiting, arranged in orderly rows that, despite their individual impressiveness, are outnumbered by the Riwons.

The wait is unbearable. Closer, then closer…

The people in the tent make eye contact. Then Shenoi gazes across the plains, sensing the patch of land she had taken a snapshot of. She rolls the state of that land back in time to the snapshot, feeling power drain from her few bonds as she does so. The powder that had been there at the time of the snapshot reappears, sinking into the liquid that had been added after the snapshot.

There is a moment when Shenoi fears that it doesn't work, that everything has been for naught, that she will never do anything meaningful in her life-

And then the plains explode.

Riwon soldiers are thrown up in the air like leaves in a brisk breeze. Dust rolls across the plains, and even though the Sheloans are prepared with scraps of cloth, it is chaos. Gore and blood fall like rain, and Shenoi is motionless with sheer awe at the destruction. Around her, people cry silently, and one man murmurs, "Thanks be to Ashka, thanks be to Ashka" endlessly.

Shenoi draws a shaky breath. The dust clouds clear, revealing the decimated Riwon army facing the nearly fully intact Sheloan forces. While the Riwons had previously outnumbered the Sheloans approximately three to two, the new ratio is closer to one to two. The Sheloan army takes a moment to regroup, then charges forward with renewed vigor.

As the sound of clashing weapons resounds across the plains, Shenoi sinks into a sitting position on the ground. The mood in the tent would be celebratory, if not for the palpable worry others have for loved ones in battle. Shenoi considers herself fortunate to be free from such distractions.

For a while, the battle continues in their favor. And then an Ascended arrives.

One moment, Riwons are screaming and dying. And the next, they are all arrayed in their orderly ranks, approaching just as they were a few hours ago, their spotless armor blindingly bright in the sun. The Sheloan soldiers, bloodied and bruised and exhausted, simply stare as their opponents have apparently been teleported away, sustaining none of the damage they inflicted.

The plains tremble with the aftermath of the Ascended's massive rewind. Shenoi continues to tremble after the earthly tremors have stopped. It took her years to build strong enough bonds to use on this one stratagem. And now, in the blink of an eye, this Ascended has made all of their sacrifices for naught.

At least show your face, she thinks furiously. At least announce your presence. Don't just doom us all and make it look as easy and inconsequential as blinking.

On the battlefield, the Sheloans are quickly overwhelmed, the blow to their morale doing just as much damage as any physical blows might have.

"Ashka save us all," the man from before murmurs. Shenoi resigns herself to her fate. She expected to die alone, after all, even if perhaps not this early.

As the Riwons overpower the Sheloans, the noise gets louder. Soon enough, soldiers are ransacking their tent, casually stabbing the lone engineer who begins to protest. The soldiers glance derisively at the rest of them, and for once, Shenoi wishes she had learned the Riwon language. After a brief discussion in melodic tones (yet another insult, Shenoi thinks, that their language should be so elegant when their actions are not), the engineers are rounded up and their hands tied together. And then they are placed in a cart and Shenoi thinks that perhaps death would have been the easier path than the grueling journey and life of slavery that surely await.


Chapter 3
The Scholar

Dezmilo is rather impressed with Yade's latest victim. Most of his sparring partners can take only a few hits before they begin to bawl and beg for mercy. But it appears that Govimi is not like the majority, who have been pampered their whole lives until something as small as a dismissive word can cause them to become petulant. No, Govimi is fighting back.

Govimi glares at Yade, feints to the left, then slides to the right and throws a fist that Yade just barely blocks. Yade responds by decking him. The professor confirms Yade's victory, and then the next match begins. But Dezmilo keeps an eye on Govimi.

It may have seemed like a quick, embarrassing defeat. But everyone in the class knows that Yade can afford to use bond energy on speeding up his movements. He has at least ten bonds already, most of them bought for him by his father and filled since he was a toddler. For someone without that advantage to last over a minute against him… Well, it’s unprecedented.

At lunch break, Dezmilo chases Govimi outside. When the other boy notices that he is being followed, he whirls around. “No, I will not form a bond with you, and no, it is not because I dislike you. It is simply my preference.” His purple eyes express no resentment. It’s as if he’s reciting a script that he has said many times before.

Dezmilo blinks. “That wasn’t my intention, but now that you say it, I’m curious why not.” He hesitates. “Not to be nosy.”

Govimi tilts his head to the side. “Truly? I thought all you Riwons were about bonds, bonds, bonds.”

“Well, I suppose I may have proposed a bond to you eventually. But right now I was just gonna congratulate you on the fight. I’m curious where you learned to fight.”

Govimi considers Dezmilo for a moment, then spins on his heel. He beckons Dezmilo with a hand motion. “Come, let’s discuss over food.”

The cafeteria is fairly deserted, as per usual. Most of the population of the academy can afford to purchase lunch in a nearby restaurant, or to bring packed lunches made by private chefs. Dezmilo and, apparently, Govimi, are the minority who eat the free lunch on campus. Of course, there is a tradeoff with price and quality.

Dezmilo takes a spoonful of the mysterious grey pudding and watches it fall in clumps back into the bowl. It jiggles alarmingly. “Is this… edible?”

“I consumed it two days ago and have not died yet,” Govimi says seriously.

Dezmilo scrutinizes the other student. He has brown hair tied back in a short ponytail and a lean frame. There are bags under his pale purple eyes. His uniform hangs slightly loosely off his shoulders, as if it is a hand-me-down from an older sibling. “Sorry, but you don’t quite look like the picture of health.”

“No, no, I am stronger than I look, do not worry.” Govimi eats a hearty spoonful of the questionable pudding. Dezmilo is impressed at how his face betrays no discomfort. “Now then, I learned to fight back home, in Nuva. A person relies on their own self there, not on bonds purchased by throwing money willy-nilly.” His lip curls in disgust.

“But you were just defeated by a bond-wielder,” Dezmilo points out.
Around them, a few people sit at tables, most of them surrounded by empty chairs. The cafeteria is a place for the poor and the outcasts, and the mood is about as good as the food. Govimi stands out by seeming rather livelier than his surroundings.

“Ah ah ah, I did not say we do not use bonds at all. We are simply pickier with who we form bonds with. Friendship comes first, then a bond. Not like here, where first is the bond and then a forced ‘friendship.’” Govimi gestures excitedly as he explains.

Dezmilo mulls that over for a moment. It is completely backwards from what’s been drilled into him. Bonds are simply the most worthwhile investment, so those who can afford to purchase the bond-making tetrahedrons do so as early and as much as possible. The earlier one starts filling bonds, the more one can use chronomancy. “Who would win in a fight, then? Someone who follows your strategy, or someone who follows the Riwon way?” Dezmilo takes a bit of the slop on his plate and manages not to gag. It tastes faintly of mashed potatoes and carrots, with a generous helping of salt and pepper.

Govimi jumps up and starts to pace. “You may think the one with more bond energy can easily beat the other. However, you forget the other abilities. A true friend would swap physical conditions and take on the wounds of the other, no questions asked. Even death is not permanent if the other is willing to sacrifice the bond.”

That… makes sense. Dezmilo runs a hand through his black hair as he thinks. “I see your point.” He eats a wilted leaf of salad. “Then… what would convince you to form a bond with someone?” Dezmilo wouldn’t admit it right now, but he finds the prospect of earning a bond somewhat exciting. To form a bond with any other student, all he would need to do would be to scrounge up the money for a tetrahedron. All of them would accept the bond, no questions asked. But they might not participate in filling the bond, and it would be likelier than not that Dezmilo would do the work of filling it and they would simply drain it. This way seems fairer, and he almost can’t believe he hasn’t thought of it before. But then again, it is simply not done.

Govimi grins mischievously and sits back down. “You are interested, eh? Well, I would first spend time with the person and see if we both enjoy it. Perhaps after a month or so of knowing them, I would be able to determine whether to trust them with a bond or not.”

Dezmilo bites back his first thought, which is that a month without a bond is hours upon hours of time that could have been invested into the bond. Instead, he nods silently, and focuses on not gagging as he chews on a hunk of meat. “You are an interesting person.”

“Well, I think you meant to say I come from an interesting culture. But still, I will accept the compliment.”

“No, I– well, I guess I meant both.” Dezmilo gestures around the cafeteria. “You don’t belong here with us losers, not with your skills and bright personality.”

Govimi laughs, and it has a hard, dark edge. “Do not be so quick to assume things. The elite are not quite so accepting of foreigners, skilled and charismatic though they may be.”

Hey mint! Just thought I'd drop by with a comment on your latest writing

“Ah ah ah, I did not say we do not use bonds at all. We are simply pickier with who we form bonds with. Friendship comes first, then a bond. Not like here, where first is the bond and then a forced ‘friendship.’” Govimi gestures excitedly as he explains.

Ooh this certainly subverted my expectations. Just based on the start of this excerpt I'd expected Dezmilo to be the warm one but his thoughts on bonds in the later paragraph actually sound more calculating than Govimi's.

It's mind boggling to think of a society where a 'bond' can be given a monetary value @_@ Best of luck writing mint, you got this!

@Liminality Thank you!! That writing was dashed out desperately in an hour and a half XD So def not polished, but hopefully still has some interesting ideas about magic and the commoditization of bonds!