Practice, Art, and Opposition
A worldbuilding piece for the King!Atemhotep universe. With a special guest!
It felt good to breathe.
Five thousand years spent in disembodiment could cause one to forget the enjoyment of sensations one took for granted in their mortal lives. Now that Atemhotep had a body forged to his exacting specifications - a body he could manipulate at will, durable enough to withstand the battles he knew were to come - he needed tools. And so, as he enjoyed the crisp alpine air of the monastic temple hidden along a cliff face in the mountains of Alaska, he pondered the specifications of his new tools.
He had his staff - no tool he could ever forge would outstrip an artifact of divine might. But today’s mages were faster, and he had to get with the times. Even as he’d worked in the shadows to build the foundations of his empire, forces moved against him. Even in his time, he’d been opposed. Naive servants of light insisted that his dark magicks were inherently evil, and sycophants of the Empty Lord’s rival had already made political and economic moves against his infrastructure.
But this place he’d managed to keep hidden. It and a few other important outposts - like the one he’d just come from, where his new body had been forged; and the next to which they would travel, where an essential keystone of his empire had just been completed - had been warded against detection. And so, he climbed the shadowy, torch-lit steps of the frigid temple.
One of the Artificiers greeted him at the door. “My lord,” the large man said as he bowed slightly. His “robes”, such as they were, could only be called utilitarian - a black leather poncho over black denim overalls. He measured almost two full meters high, his short hair was a grey-faded brown, and his hazel eyes held the maddening juxtaposition of eager energy and condensed exhaustion as he met Atemhotep’s gaze. His voice echoed through the corridor, it’s lower and somewhat nasally tones resonating back into something tolerable. “I am pleased to inform you that the seed crystals have been prepared to your exact specifications, and the initial wards for the weaving ritual are being set as we speak. Your workplace will be ready when you arrive.”
“Thank you, Artificier,” Atemhotep said, his commanding baritone returning from the hall to lend authrority and weight to every word he spoke as they began walking together down the hall. “Your people have done well, and you will still be instrumental in the work to come. We must make haste, however - once the craft begins, we will be detectable. Enemy forces will be on us - are your forces ready?”
“The temple Medjay are prepared for battle, my lord,” the Artificier responded. “We will have time to finish the work, and then you may lead us in routing the Light Pact, if that be your will.”
“It be, Artificier,” Atemhotep said with a smile. He paused for the moment and clasped the Artificier’s shoulder, fixed him with a cheerful but serious gaze. “It has been too long since I have had the thrill of a good battle, and these new foes are unlike the warriors of old. The only way for a warrior to meet another warrior is on the battlefield.” They resumed walking, discussing the minutiae of their work.
When they entered the central chamber of the temple, the round chamber seemed layered. Though the floor was smooth, it was patterned in concentric rings surrounding the emblem of the Empty Lord. The outermost circle was filled with shadow, as if a curtain of unnatural darkness had been hung. The middle circle, however, was lit with ethereal purple glows. The middle section was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the gold inlay forming the Empty Lord’s signet. Acolytes stood just within the middle circle, at loose attention and ready to begin. The Artificier stayed near the entrance as Atemhotep strode across the circle, standing at a pedestal at the center. He reached out his mind, connecting them all - each was within his staff’s curse, making the matter a trifling one And so, Atemhotep focused on the crystals.
Two specimens lay before him on the pedestal. One, long and needle-thin, was woven with lines of red, blue, green, purple, and black. The second, slightly shorter but much thicker and mostly black with trim of light blue. He set to work on the one on the right, the thin crystal. This would be the hardest to do, woven as it was of all the Dark Elements. They had been grown into each other, meticulously woven by magic and science for this task.
He started by shearing part of the long crystal off, feeling for inset lines of shadow within the crystal lattice. His acolytes had done their work well - there was a perfect subatomic perforation for him to exploit, and the bottom end came clean off. He set this to the left, next to the larger crystal - it would be needed later. Next, he poured his own power into the thin crystal, growing it with his energies. It went from a length of nine centimeters to twenty-one, and the large veins of black at the base expanded. The crystal levitated as Atemhotep shaped it, aided in the delicate aspects of his work by subtle tweaks from his apprentices. Atemhotep reached out his right hand and grasped the crystal, shaping the grip to fit his hand and imprinting within it a ward to prevent others from using it. He aligned its internal crystal matrices as his Artificier and his acolytes shaped the exterior, and the seed went from potential to potency. It would make an excellent focusing lens for the magickal energies Atemhotep would channel through it. Deposits of dense frozen crystal within would allow the wand to expand up to the size of a rapier if so desired, and the crystal’s form could be reshaped by Atemhotep at will.
He set down his first tool, and focused now on the second. The first would operate as a precision instrument - a scalpel edge, a laser sight. This needed to channel more energies in a broader area He lifted the second crystal with his mind and began to work. At one end he used a shadow gap to remove a piece of fused crystal, revealing a hole perfect to encase the sliver of his wand from before. He placed it inside, replaced the cap, and fused them all together. Now he and his assistants worked to hone the prism’s lattice for its tasks, hardened and condensed it so more amplifying layers could be added even as Atemhotep grew it to keep its size. It too would be reshapable, able to form things like shields or a gauntlet for Atemhotep, while also acting like a large parabolic dish for his power, allowing large area broadcasts. He finished by creating an indent at the end opposite that which held the wand piece. It would be able to hold the wand itself, allowing him to at will fuse the tools to create larger weapons and work greater feats. Finally, he set this down, too, and drew on his aides’ power to tie the tools into the ley lines of magical flow - that way, he could draw on that as an extra small boost when he needed it. Finally, he hefted his new tools, and gave thought to the passage of time. It had been almost two hours.
And there were sounds of pitched battle just down the hall. Prism in his left hand and wand in his right, Atemhotep rushed for the door. The Artificier raised his arm, and into his waiting hand teleported a quarterstaff of powerful dark blue crystal. Each of the acolytes similarly conjured their weapons, and the battle was joined.
The powers of light were inherently effective against the dark powers of the Ancient Magicks used by the acolytes. But that did not mean the acolytes were helpless. Archers on the far cliff held crystals that focused bolts of light light magical arrows, and they pummeled the front of the temple. But the acolytes, masters as they were of crystallization, used Ice magicks to freeze moisture in the air, creating lenses to deflect many of the bolts. With the Artificier and his head acolytes now aiding them, they managed to erect an umbrella-like overhang of ice, momentarily halting the barrage. The enemy then brought up their mages - adepts at the arts of channeling magic into the newer Light Elements that modernity knew well - Earth in place of Shadow, Water in place of Ice, Air in place of Smoke, and Fire in place of Blood. These magi began to rain fire and earth upon the hardened ice.
Meanwhile, their infantry finally made it up the narrow snow path to the temple. A line of Paladins clad in heavy armor led the charge, brandishing greatswordds with edges of glowing white crystal. Behind the six of them were a dozen Light Pact Spearmen - they conjured thin bolts of powerful light to fire from mid-range. Each was accompanied by an elemental mage and a Bulwark - an adept that wore heavy armor, carried a large shield, and was an expert at forming hard light barriers. They had formed the outer edges and rear of the Light Pact advance, preventing the meager force of acolytes from stopping their advance - those few that managed to get into position to try through the barrage of light beams, anyway. There were only two dozen acolytes, plus the five head acolytes and the Artificier. They were outnumbered. They were trapped. The enemy infantry was at the bottom of the steps, and no manner of ice bolts or shadow strikes managed to penetrate their armor. Worse, Light Pact forces were warded to prevent Shadow, Smoke, and Blood magicks from affecting the insides of their bodies. This was a problem.
Atemhotep was the solution. He extended his wand to a rapier and used the focus to manifest a buckler of ice harder than steel. “Artificier, with me! The rest of you, suppressive fire! Draw them up the steps, slowly!” Atemhotep then ran out from his force’s lines, buckler before him as he raced down the steps toward the first Paladin. He leaped from the steps just above him and collapsed onhis foe buckler-first. He hopped off the warrior, felled by his weight and skewered a Spearman before two of the Paladins turned.
But with the Spearmen dead, his wards failed. His blood and body now Atemhotep’s to command, he drew out the body’s blood as he yanked out his rapier, and with a stroke away from the corpse, sent missiles of frozen blood through the gaps in the two Paladins’ armor, severing tendons and rendering both quadriplegic. He felled them as they collapsed, neatly decapitated in a single spin that carried from his earlier momentum.
This also brought him in position to raise his buckler and deflect the overhand chop of the first Paladin,who had now risen and had been about to severely damage the old Pharaoh. Light Pact swords were lined with crystal to hone their cutting edge, help the edge stay sharp... and permitted them to be enchanted to damage the dark souls of their adversaries on strike. Atemhotep did not want to be cut by them. Atemhotep responded with a stroke of his rapier aimed at the Paladin’s left elbow, but he spun in. The rapier glanced off the plate mail on his back, and the Paladin delivered an armored elbow to Atemhotep’s face. It staggered the ancient king, but before the Paladin could try to strike again, a spear of ice caught the side of his throat. The Artificier - slower to reach the fighting than Atemhotep - had exploited the Paladin’s distraction. And while the spear had not directly hit, it had torn open the Paladin’s jugular. Atemhotep seized control of the blood, penetrating the Paladin’s wards and freezing every drop of blood in his body. He stiffened and toppled over, dying as he hit the ground.
But the other three Paladins were regrouped, and behind them were the lighter forces. Three Spearmen and their Magi had been charging a powerful bolt of divine light while Atemhotep had been focused on the last Paladin, and he was exposed. Then, a great crack from above - part of the ice shield had broken off! it would have tumbled safely into the chasm between the two cliffs, but Atemhotep seized it with his mind and threw it into the path at the last second. The blast struck the thick ice plate, and - angled as the plate was - the bolt bounced away, through the gap left by the plate, and devastated part of the cliff below three of the Spearmen above. The cliff collapsed, sending them to their doom, and Atemotep rotated the plate to be level with the floor and shoved it through the enemy formation. Fully a third of the force was flung off the cliff by the impact. Many of the lighter infantry were knocked aside, but the three Paladins at the front that tried to block the slab had been frozen into it on impact, and they were crushed in their armor when the slab hit the far wall. Broken, but not dead, they fell to their fate as Atemhotep tossed the slab over the cliff.
The Paladins thusly removed from the field, the acolytes surged to the to p of the stairs. Bands of shadow lashed at the Bulwarks, and the snow under their boots turned rock solid to slow their advance. Atemhotep saw a space in their formation just big enough, and wrapped his arms close to himself. He moved his body to the shadows on the ground at that spot, teleporting into the heart of their defensive line. His first stroke gutted three Spearmen and two Magi. Distracted, two Bulwarks turned to face him and were felled by experts attacks from the acolytes.
With his focus, Atemhotep dispelled the buckler, and called upon his vast reserves of magickal power. It had been building as he’d been on the battlefield, and he unleashed it now as a frozen tornado from his fist. Two of the remaining Bulwarks were caught in this, frozen into solid blocks of ice. As they died by cold, asphyxiation, or a number of other causes, Atemhotep began manipulating the blocks telekinetically, crushing Magi and Spearmen between them. The final pair of Bulwarks were overwhelmed by the Artificier and his acolytes, but almost a dozen of the light infantry - five Spearmen and six Magi - managed to escape down the path to relative safety.
But above, there was another great crack. And then a second. And a great portion of the shell broke and fell into the chasm, exposing the entire unit to the remaining Spearmen and Magi on the far cliff.
But now, Atemhotep was ready.
He issued commands to his acolytes, and they followed each with zeal. As the Spearmen retrieved their raiding force and recharged, Atemhotep’s forces gathered the giant chunks of ice that had once been their shield. The first bolt of powerful light and flaming rock missed by meters, but did come first. But Atemhotep’s plan was prepared: he had reshaped the ice plates into missiles filled with two gaseous volatile chemicals that would detonate when mixed. Chemistry and Smoke Magicks, it seemed, went hand in hand. The darts would shatter on impact and violently explode, flooding the area with shrapnel and toxic, darlk smoke. There were several hundred; Atemhotep would devastate the entire cliff and then teleport his forces over to rout and decimate his enemies. As the second mighty bolt from the enemy struck closer to home, Atemhotep seized his arsenal and, with his acolytes... fired.
A few seconds later, the cliff top erupted with explosions and distant screams, Atemhotep focused on the darkness within the smoke, and his Artificier with his remaining seventeen acolytes joined him atop the cliff. The acolytes controlled the smoke, tearing the remaining foes limb from limb with shadow grips and wind pressure torque. The Light pact was in complete disarray, and not a single soldier sent to attack survived.
Panting, and with a dozen nicks, cuts, and bruises, the Artificier approached Atemhotep and knelt. He felt the shadow he cast grip him and haul him back to his feet. Atemhotep met his eyes. “Artificier, you have done extraordinarily well. Without the tools you helped forge and the acolytes you trained, much would have been lost today. From this day forth, feel no need to bow in my presence. You are among my greatest mortal compatriots.” When the shadows released him, he found his wounds mended by Atemhotep’s Blood Magicks. Indeed, he felt better than he had in a decade. He nodded curtly. “As you will, my lord. Shall we move on?”
“Yes. Prepare the acolytes for transport. This facility, useful as it has been, is being deactivated for now. Its wards will keep it intact and secure in our absence. you and your Medjay may be needed elsewhere.” As he spoke, the acolytes gathered close. on a mental signal from each, Atemhotep teleported each of them...
...to an underground citadel. The heart of the empire, and Atemhotep’s personal design, no one but the Pharaoh knew where it was, only that it was deep underground. As they stepped from the Dark Room into the control center, a face on the screen greeted them with a neutral face. “Greetings, Lord Atemhotep. How may I assist you?”
“Zadkiel, I have seventeen Medjay Artificiers and their Master at your disposal; deploy them as you see fit. I need compiled status reports on Light Pact movements in grids Two-Gamma and Two-Beta, and I need these new recruits debriefed on the recent battle. I trust your surveillance systems detected the fight?”
“Yes, sir. A sizeable Pact raiding force to be so deep in our territory. I will begin an analysis of how they may have infiltrated the area. Additionally, provisioning and humanitarian aid deployment reports have been prepared for review at your discretion.”
Atemhotep nodded to the screen, an affectation he knew the AI enjoyed. “Thank you, Zadkiel. As you were.” The group dispersed to the task they knew they needed to perform.
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