Chris

North of Frostheim

So far, as my steps took me farther and farther from home, it didn't feel anything like the last time I had done this. Last time, years ago, I had left at the start of winter, in the middle of a snowstorm, after weeks of snowfall that had accumulated up to my mid-thigh.

Now, at the height of Summer, when there hadn't been snow in months and the temperature was a blistering 70 degrees, or if you were like most of our city and hailed from Canada Before, 20 degrees.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly blistering, but it was distinctly uncomfortable compared to how it felt during the Fall and Winter. I just didn't like it, and the further my body temperature rose, the less pleasant it was.

Our first summer up here wasn't all that bad, but then I went on to expand my Bloodline, evolve with Jotun bones, and otherwise do everything I could to increase my power over the cold.

Which didn't exactly prime me for a good time during Summer.

My Fortitude and natural resistance were high enough that even much higher temperatures wouldn't affect me, but that didn't change my preference for the cold.

Other than it being about a hundred degrees hotter than last time, there was a much larger change compared to my last trip.

I could actually see the ground.

There wasn't any snow blanketing the area in a sea of white, and trees actually had leaves on their branches still. The forest was active, with things scurrying about and birds calling.

Not at all like the quiet of winter, where things had either migrated or gone into hibernation.

It was... nice.

Different, but still nice.

My aura was enough to make most things leave me alone, which was good. I didn't want to ruin the area's ecosystem by killing everything down to the roots. We hunted here regularly, and Hal made sure that it was regulated enough not to cause problems.

As I went, I kept trying to form my aura into something tangible. While the idea was good, and I knew it would work, it was rather difficult to achieve. Willing it to grab on to leaves didn't do much other than cause them to flutter.

I imagined picking them off, but accomplished something equivalent to a stiff breeze. It would be a long time until I could use it to grab hold of the ground, but I would get there. I had time.

Time was another thing to consider. Five years ago, I thought it would be nice to maybe make it to ninety, maybe ninety-five years of age. Then, after a relatively long life, I would shuffle off gracefully.

Now, I would live for much, much longer. Having somewhere north of seven or eight centuries of life to look forward to was... odd. It was the only word to describe it. Obviously, there was always the chance of that getting cut short, but if things went naturally, seven centuries would be the low end of what I could expect to see.

With my Vitality, I'd see something closer to eight or either eight and a half centuries. Especially once all of the stat points from my Rank were gained. Even if I didn't use a single one of my Free Points into the stat, I'd see an increase of 2200 in Vitality just from my Class and Profession by the time I hit level 200.

How many generations is that?

I shook my head and sighed. A lot. It was a lot.

My next thought was interrupted by a message from Abigail. Her ability to talk to me over great distances was sometimes creepy when I wasn't expecting it.

I just left, what could it possibly be...

"Rachel signed the contract. The meeting starts tomorrow."

Signing the contract was the best path forward; it would give us another opportunity for an affinity treasure, even if it would eventually cause some problems. The other bit, though, I did not envy Rachel one bit.

The Council meetings of my own faction were bad enough; I couldn't imagine being in the room with 14 others. It would take hours to get anything done.

I wished her luck, and I was glad to be doing what I was, rather than stuck down there.

Rachel

New Norfolk

In a way, she had gotten 'primed' for this entire altercation when she first took over Emberhold. Her position in Frostheim didn't require any sort of administrative role or leadership position.

Her days were filled with mana training, research into her new powers, and playing with her spells, trying to find new applications for them or ways for them to grow.

After taking control of Emberhold, that changed. Not all of it, she still spent a sizable amount of time on her own advancement, but a portion of her day had been dedicated to what the city needed or what people were asking of her.

While sometimes frustrating, it got her ready for her role here at this Assembly.

The role of a Diplomat.

Rachel felt Sophia enter the room, and she knew it was time.

"The carriage is ready," she said.

Rachel nodded, mentally preparing herself. The two of them, as that was all she was going to bring, entered the carriage, and the driver pulled away from their assigned lodgings toward the tallest building in the city.

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Brayden said it was an entirely new construction, using skills and techniques he hadn't seen before, which was saying something.

The summer heat down here was a blessing compared to the frigid north. Rachel couldn't remember the last time the temperature had been so high. They had to specifically make new clothes to breathe better and not retain heat, opposite to what the Tailors were used to.

They also had to make them well, so they didn't look destitute.

Chris would probably show up in whatever he was wearing at the time, but Rachel wasn't about to do that. Instead, she wore a dark blue dress with white accents to match their Faction's colors.

Rachel didn't have blonde hair like her husband's family, and her brown hair was done up for the occasion. She wore no makeup and had no jewelry on, save for the amulet everyone in the family wore.

After Christian, it was a habit everyone had gotten used to.

Her attire was chosen for a few reasons. The craftsmanship was the best they had, showing they had means and good artisans, but she forwent any opulence to lean into the rugged assumptions.

It was supposed to show that they were Warriors first, or something like that.

While Rachel wasn't against the showmanship involved, it was a bit much for her. She didn't see that what she arrived in was all that important in the long run. She was with Chris on that front.

She was just glad no one pushed for a plunging neckline like she was some harlot. During the planning, she was waiting to sear the first person who brought it up, but no one had.

Instead, the cut was rather modest, in her opinion, but still enough to draw eyes. She didn't just feel young again, but looked it too. The wrinkles and age spots she had just begun to form were reversed by her many evolutions.

She didn't look a day over 25 now, and she was more than a little glad about that. No one liked aging.

The only other accessory she had was her staff. The large red gem caught the sunlight beautifully, and while it wouldn't match her dress, it didn't mean it didn't look good.

Vincent, while he was the leading expert in all things metal, didn't really have that much expertise in staff making. He'd tried his hand at it, but she found doing it herself was best in the long run.

She would have asked Chris to help with the runic pathways and enchantments if it wouldn't have ruined it. Him and his Arctic affinity seeped into everything he touched. Her attempts to get him to control it better hadn't worked all that well.

Instead, she had taken pointers and tips from the two but had done the work with her own hand, and she was proud of it. The gem was a polished and cut beast core that came from a fire salamander, which had been a Boss of the 12th Floor in Emberhold's dungeon. The wood was sourced from the dungeon as well. It was a treasure trove of fire-aligned resources.

Nowhere on the invitation did it say that they couldn't bring weapons, and she was curious to see how the Admiral dealt with it. If Chris were in her place, there was no way in hell he would give up his hammer, and she was starting to feel the same.

Her reliance on her staff wasn't anything close to Chris and his hammer, but like he would say, it was the principle of the matter. She didn't need it, per se, but it made her spells stronger and saved her mana. She could still burn the entire place down with or without it.

The carriage ride was quick, as their accommodations weren't that far from the center of the city. Sophia opened the door, and Rachel stepped down into a rather large courtyard.

Around her were others stepping out of cars or carriages of their own. That had been a surprise. Seeing cars once again, after going without for so long.

They had heard about them being reintroduced, but seeing them was different.

She recognized Vanessa, in a stunning red dress, stepping out of what looked like a repurposed military vehicle. Luxury cars still weren't a thing again, but Rachel didn't give it long. Already, carriages were becoming more and more opulent.

Vanessa had brought Michael along with her, which wasn't a surprise. She had probably left Gail to run Flame Falls. Both wore red, matching their faction colors.

Off to the side, Marcus stepped out of his own carriage, missing his usual glaive. Instead, he had a sword on his hip. A weapon Rachel had never seen the man use.

A glaive would be rather unwieldy indoors.

He was dressed in a nice tunic and pants that were on the dressier side. His black hair was trimmed and styled, along with a clean-shaven face. He wasn't wearing a suit, like some of the other male Faction Leaders Rachel saw.

Tracy Strong wasn't wearing her Faction's colors, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if that was on purpose. The Stormlands had chosen cerulean blue on grey to mimic the colors of lightning and a thunderstorm. She also wasn't wearing a visible weapon, but that didn't surprise Rachel. She was never one for melee.

That was the last of the people she knew, or had at least seen before. The rest she had only ever heard of. Patrick Staffords, one of the Leaders of the Great Lakes Alliance, dressed similarly to Marcus, but wore his twin axes on his hips.

Ryan Clairmont wore a suit and appeared weaponless. Rachel wasn't sure what to make of the man. His aura was drawn in, and it was hard to get a read on him.

Vanessa was letting hers out a little bit, making her powerful fire affinity easy to see. Marcus and Patrick didn't hide their connection to water, but Ryan was keeping everything close to the chest.

Rachel knew who the next woman she looked at was instantly, and not because she was the only dark sinned woman here. Small freckles glowed on her face, highlighting the contrast between them and her skin. Her silver dress flowed, and she carried a staff tipped with a silver gem.

The Starlight Mage.

During her visit to Flame Falls, it was hard not to hear about the woman. Seeing her in person, though, made her think only one thing.

Powerful.

Not that the rest weren't, or that Rachel herself wasn't, but the woman was a wall of power that was hard to ignore.

I guess you have to be to rule a city of so many. It was a dog-eat-dog world out there, and if she didn't have the strength, Rachel doubted she would have come out the ruler of one of the most populous cities in America.

A man she didn't recognize or know from rumors was the next person her eyes found. He had blonde hair and sported a close-cut beard, similar to what Chris kept years ago, before he got too tired to keep up with it and let it grow out. His only visible weapon was a dagger, but Rachel doubted it was his main weapon.

She knew he wasn't a mage, though. He didn't have a Core like every other mage here. He had a Mana Heart, similar to Chris. It was rather funny that they had similar features and were both warriors, but that was the end of their similarities.

His affinity was nothing like Christopher's.

It was hard to grasp and tried to escape notice, slipping away from her senses like smoke in the wind. Not because he was hiding it, but because that was its nature.

Shadow.

It didn't feel sinister at all, which was good. It would be a shame if the first thing she did was get into a fight. If it had any hint of Demonic taint, Rachel wouldn't hesitate to burn the man alive where he stood.

"Sophia, who's that?" Rachel talked through her aura and indicated the man. It was hard to gather news on Factions so far away.

"His name is Rhett, a newly risen Baron who rules Nashville. Same name and placement as before," her assistant answered.

The next two Rachel knew from rumors. Their getting out of the same car and both wearing a rather vibrant green also made it easy. Mikayla Stuart, the Leader of the Heartlands Alliance, and Sylvia Woodwright, the newly risen Baron of Velmara. The description the merchant Alaric gave was spot on. Both had staves in hand.

Of the four that were left, she only knew one more based on looks. Tasunka Witko, leader of The Reservation. Him being the only one of Native American heritage helped. Marcus had spoken of him before, and looked exactly like he was described.

He dressed similarly to the rest of the men and had a saber sheathed on his hip.

The last three were unknowns. One was a scholarly-looking man who looked more like a librarian than a fighter. Calling him bookish seemed rude, but if the shoe fit. He was one of the few without a weapon. The next was a muscular brunette woman, dressed in something closer to armor than dress clothes, sporting an axe. The last was a man with bright blonde hair and stubble, with the most sun-kissed skin in the entire city, most likely, wearing a sword.

She didn't even have to prompt Sophia to get their names.

"Edward Halstead, Baron of St. Louis, taking lead after the test. Bri Farlands, Baron of New Boston, and Drake Ellison, Baron of the Golden Isles, or what used to be Florida."

And waiting for them at the entrance was the Admiral.

He hadn't changed since the last time Rachel had seen him, keeping his rather stiff posture and all.

Let's start this pony show

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