Chapter 12: An exchange of secrets.
There were audible gasps of awe coming from the crowd at Xerath's form. Uebel was perhaps the most moderate and welcoming of Murakishur. The tales of a magi who had effectively wiped out the Shuriman empire were remembered, but that was three millennia ago and there were more pressing matters than what happened back then.
Xerath scanned them all with his sight, attempting to not give an impression of arrogance.
Impressions that might improve his chances of redemption in their eyes.
He was still sat in the moving half-track heading to what appeared to be a large palace. Its massive porcelain dome edged with arcane symbols, a sign that magical wards worked as a nexus of sorts to divert projectiles.
An interesting work indeed, but the symbols were decaying and with them formed weak points. Small ones for sure, but Xerath guessed with the potential technology that was constantly moving forward, these weak points could malfunction easily and form arcane bursts as the remaining shield rushed in to fill the gap. He had experienced such phenomena first-hand during his academy days, where they had used the same phenomena to crack brick tiles with shields in the size of mere millimeters.
"Xerath, come on."
The truck had stopped, with Ezreal calling for him in a jovial mood.
Xerath sat up, his tethers reigniting themselves, and moved off the half-track. His feet never touched the sandstone bricks below him as his tethers rebounded off of them, holding Xerath half a foot off the ground when he stabilized.
"I welcome you to Uebel, my fellow friends."
The figure in a purple robe, Malz was it, said with an implied smile that was hid behind the enwrapping robe.
Did they not know what I did to them? No, they do know. But do they not care?
"I heard you had some trouble getting out of Murakishur. Well Ezreal has always had a habit of getting into some form of trouble one way or another. Methinks he might one day actually need a map."
A small chuckle came from Malz, with Ezreal smirking at the joke.
"Not yet Malz, not yet."
"I'm not sure I have introduced myself to you and your, disciple?" Malzahar cleared his throat.
"I am Malzahar, the Prophet of the Void and the High Seer of Uebel. I welcome both of you to this fine city of prosperity. I hope your brief stay here will be remembered fondly."
Xerath responded, bowing his head and replying.
"I thank you, Seer Malzahar. I accept your welcome with honor."
Xerath signaled for Azel to follow suit.
"I thank you, Seer Malzahar. I accept your welcome with utmost humility."
"Do not worry child, you are a disciple of Xerath. I greet you with the same respect as your master."
She wasn't. Azel briefly looked up at Xerath to grant her the illusion of being one of his disciples. Xerath briefly nodded, acknowledging it.
And thus, they were lead into the Fortress Palace of Uebel.
"Xerath, Sivir and I have stuff we need to do. How about you two just talk with Malz for a little bit."
With that, Ezreal and Sivir disappeared to deal with attaining more fuel and getting the 'bucket of bolts' working again.
"So Xerath, might I ask what your arcane discipline is?"
Xerath turned his head to Malzahar, stunned by this. A Mage's discipline gave immense levels of information about his magic, yet Malzahar asked such a thing of him? In his time, to so quickly declare one's discipline would effectively been suicide because of how the discipline dictated the type of flow the mage would conjure with each one having a specific flow which could very well be adapted on by even the common mage to massively disrupt a spell's arcane balance, resulting in the mage's own fireball blowing up in his face. Was Malzahar really asking this of him?
"My own discipline is…"
HE WAS! Malzahar was actually going to tell him what his discipline was!
"I'm sorry to interrupt Seer Malzahar and neither do I mean disrespect, but I assumed you not to be so naïve and foolish as to simply give away the knowledge of your discipline."
"Mine is already known throughout the world thanks to the League, it will not make a difference, or at least they know of what my powers can do."
"It does make a difference. One's discipline is used to fuel one's powers. One can make different powers or distort powers around one's discipline, but not make new powers through a new discipline."
"I could also say that this is a trust exercise."
Xerath stopped for a moment.
Trust.
It had been a long time indeed since he had been required to rely on such a deadly double-sided blade.
"Xerath, do you wish me to tell you mine?"
Xerath hesitated for another moment.
"Fine then, an exchange of disciplines."
"Psychological Induction."
"Hmm, an interesting one indeed. Mine is Particle Induction."
"YES! Finally another who understands the awesomeness of induction!"
Azel looked at the two mages in puzzlement.
One minute, Lord Xerath and Seer Malzahar had been at odds over these disciplines.
The next, both of them were deep in conversation about the same thing they had been at odds at. How could they do such things?
"Disciple of Xerath, what might your discipline be?"
Azel looked at Malzahar, like her master, stunned at this. She didn't know anything about these disciplines. Her father had told her nothing about them.
"I-I-I d-don't know anything about these disciplines my lord." She said reluctantly.
"Ah. I see. Then we shall figure yours out then shall we? Conjure us a fireball and we shall see what your discipline is."
"Y-Yes, my lords."
She could do that.
Cupping her hand, a kindle appeared above it. It soon swelled into a goblet-sized fireball.
"That is fine my dear, we can use this." Malzahar said plainly.
It wasn't enough, not for such experts into the arcana. The fireball continued to grow in size.
"Azel, enough." Xerath exclaimed. "We do not need power. We need to know what it is. Hold its shape now."
Azel calmed down. The amount of power before her was probably pathetic to what either of these two could muster.
"So Xerath, would you do the honors?"
Xerath gazed into the fire, watching every flicker of light curiously.
He raised his hand and beckoned forth a small tether of electricity that attached itself to the fireball.
"Azel, put one of those apricots into your fireball." Xerath pointed to one of the small dishes standing on a table that had been set out for the three, all of the dishes filled with an assortment of appetizers.
Azel moved over to the table, the fireball still in hand. Taking up one of the apricots in her hand, she tossed it into the flame.
In a whoosh of orange flame the apricot was reduced to naught but ash.
"Arcane Conduction." Xerath declared.
"I believe that means that she had another master before you then, Xerath."
"I-I had my father. The city where I come from do not take magic as a useful art, more as a tool which can be used to do , so I had no chance at formal study into the arcane arts."
"Ah. And what city might that be?"
"N-…" Azel stuttered. She looked down in dismay, for she knew what she was about to say would definitely doom her in this city.
"Nalepsis. Please forgive me for being born from such a place."
Malzahar's furrowed his brow at this. If Azel had not been a disciple of Xerath, then she may well have been declared a spy and summarily executed.
"Xerath, care to explain this to me."
"Fine then. This girl and her father belonged to the Thunder Disciples, a group of followers that noticed my awakening form. Her father was both her teacher and the first human to welcome me back to living after my millennia in isolation. Ezreal made a deal with him to get his daughter to become my disciple while I was still in the ground."
"You could have left her, what did she mean to you."
"She did mean nothing, but I after I realized what the deal was, I lightened up to her. I have already created enough destruction, so I felt and still feel like I need something to use my power on. In this case, her protection."
Malzahar sighed.
"Be thankful that I am not one of those paranoid politicians. If one of them heard about this, then Azel here would have been escorted to one of the dungeons and awaiting a thousand papers to be signed for her execution. I will keep this secret for now. I just beg of you to not tell anyone else of this."
"I understand Seer Malzahar. But I must ask of you to keep my secret as well."
"Very well then, an exchange of secrets. You really are an interesting man, Mage Xerath."
"As are you, Seer Malzahar."