Ch. 24

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Yeeeahhh, my focus tanked recently. And the line about "what was he supposed to say" that comes up in this chapter? That was basically my brain, on that scene especially.

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Voltar wanted to show him something. Ingressus was sure of that. He didn't know why else the staff would've kept showing him a distinct memory of walking along a specific path, one he could only assume was in Voltaria. There was somewhere Voltar wanted him to go. He knew the trail his predecessor had followed, could see it in his mind's eye. Past the mossy boulders that housed a spring, under the tree that split into a Y-shape, along the dry riverbed and over the patch of exposed granite, and then straight until he hit the shallow cave where the ancient Voltaris had done– whatever they did. Voltar hadn't shown him that part. It had just been insistent on showing him the path he was to follow.

The problem was, that path and the landmarks he'd seen could've been anywhere in Voltaria. It was a big province, covering a lot of space. On the one hand that was a good thing: there would be plenty of space for his clan and any non-mercenaries. On the other, that made finding a place by looking for specific landmarks no small task.

Ingressus leaned against a birch at the edge of the forest, looking over the map he'd gotten back in Stoneford. It wasn't a map of Voltaria itself; he doubted there was much demand for that with how empty the province was. But it was the best he could find in the absence of such a thing. The map covered the trading routes north of Conchord, stretching out from the district into Senadria, Kaltaria, and other surrounding lands. But that scope put Voltaria conveniently in the middle, and it at least marked the few trade roads that ran through the otherwise sparsely-detailed province. The rest, Ingressus had done his best to fill in as he wandered. He had marked farms, possible camp locations, (village locations, that's what they'd be, when his people could have permanent homes again), and had done his best to trace out the paths he'd taken. So far, he'd come across nothing that resembled the landmarks in Voltar's memory.

Ingressus tried to think of other clues from the vision. Based on the shadows of the trees, his predecessor had been walking roughly east at the start of the vision. The path had then angled slightly north, and he had heard the soft sound of water as the past Master had approached the cave. It didn't have the quiet roar of a distant river; it was more like a trickling stream. There was a waterway somewhere near the place Voltar wanted him to go. The cave was in a forest but it was near the edge of one; the split tree stood alone out in a grassland. That landmark wouldn't be hard to see– assuming it was still there. The memory was at least six centuries old, much could've changed since then.

Ingressus kept wandering. He followed the treelines, keeping his ears pricked for the sound of running water. He'd stowed the helmet away after leaving Stoneford, and his sore ears were thrilled for the mercy from the hard, confining metal. He did find several small creeks, but wandering the woods within earshot of the creeks didn't turn up any caves he recognized.

The day wore on. The sun inched towards the west behind the patchy clouds, dropping slowly down from its zenith. Thicker clouds drew in, and soon a drizzle was pattering down from the sky.

Ingressus took shelter from the rain in an alcove under a pair of boulders. There was more room than he'd expected and he scooted further back from the opening, then summoned Voltar again. Maybe he could pick up some more details from the memory to help him track down the cave. He leaned against the stone, holding the staff in his gloved hands.

But no memory arose this time, no visions playing in his mind's eye. Ingressus frowned behind his mask, looking curiously at the staff. Voltar had been showing him the vision over and over for the past two days, why the sudden silence?

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