2412, Diori 12, Briss

Cyrdel peered at the translucent screen tracing the magical signature of a throne. It was a rather ingenious work for such a rush job and limited resources. It had been simple enough and he was a bit miffed he didn't get to try the other alternatives he had calculated in his brain. Another time, perhaps.

Right now, he should focus on getting them into this point in the plane where the scepter theoretically was. For the past three hours, it has been proving difficult. First, they would have to figure out how to disable the alarms around the camp which were hidden and were resistant to foreign and unregistered trails. It was another rip-off from Cyrdel's hidden plans he hadn't dared propose to the King and Queen for territorial security.

It's so annoying how Cyrdel's inventions were the ones keeping him and his companions away from achieving their goal. Everything's so ironic it's almost funny.

The second challenge was navigating the tents pitched on the open field and the number of people bound to notice them if they made it past the alarms. Questions would be asked since there's no doubt everyone knew each other in this tight-knit camp. He didn't know where the other Synketrian camps were pitched and he wasn't foolish enough to conclude that this was the only spot.

Calmly raltzing in wouldn't do either.

Finally, the weird pulse of magic his screen detected almost beside the scepter's signature itched at the edges of his brain. It wasn't exactly a throne but it's strong enough to get detected by the parameters he had set into his gadget. Was it a good thing or not? Who knew? He mentioned it to his two companions and they didn't appear as perturbed as he was.

Cyrdel rolled his eyes when they waved him away. Of course, they have explosive and amazing synnavaimis. It's easy to rely on magic at times like this and expect it to always fix things for them.

However, as he reminded them through and through, they needed to conserve their magic for the real thing they might be walking into when they get to Penleth. If they enter the battlefield drained and tired, it's not going to help anyone. They would just be added dead weight.

At least, Denara had agreed and now crouched next to him. She frowned at the flickering display on his screen and wrinkled her nose. "There's really no way to bypass security at this distance?" she said. She had her head in this game far more than Cyrdel and Nyxis combined.

Nyxis had suggested the tactic an hour ago and from Cyrdel's calculations, it would take at least a week before Cyrdel could even reprogram the alarms. Not to mention, he needed a functional workshop and about a hundred tools Denara hadn't even heard about, some of which Cyrdel had designed himself.

Cyrdel shook his head. "Too complicated," he glanced at the sky and at the pale canopies blocking it. "We don't exactly have a lot of time."

Nyxis took a vial out from his satchel, popped the lid open, and sniffed. He winced as he shut it off. Cyrdel figured it wasn't what Nyxis was expecting as the ice sprite shoved it back where it came from. "Should we just trip the alarms and sneak in to take advantage of the chaos?" Nyxis said.

"Assuming there will be chaos," Cyrdel turned back to his screen. He wasn't exactly a plan maker but none of them were since it's not a job anywhere. "Perhaps they have men who are tasked to shoot strange people on sight who may or may not have tripped the alarms."

"Okay, that plan's horrible," Nyxis crossed his arms.

His accent distressed Cyrdel. It wasn't like anything he ever heard with the flashes of Ylanen-like drawl creeping through at irregular moments. Denara tapped a finger at the screen. The sound of her nail clinking against the delicate glass finish tore Cyrdel's attention off Nyxis's accent. He resisted the urge to slap the nymph's hand away mostly because she could probably rip his neck off his shoulders if she wished.

"So, we close the distance," Denara's voice almost lulled Cyrdel to sleep. It was still a mystery how the nymph ended up more commanding than Xanthy or Reeca. "Let's see what you can do from there."

Cyrdel considered it. "Are we abandoning cover?" he glanced at the thick foliage around them. They're currently on the thickest part of the forest, just a few distance from an opening which gave way into a large, grassland.

Except now there wasn't any grass around. The flowers which would have once littered the plain were now replaced with cloth tents and the blades of grass which once made the whole expanse green and lush were now replaced with the dull resonance of dirt.

Being a brownie at heart, Cyrdel should have been rooting for the emergence of his favorite color but when he thought about the people destroying nature just so they could pitch a tent and terrorize others and wage war, there's no admiration left in his system for the color.

The wind blew softly to shake the leaves above them. Cyrdel inclined his head. How much longer these mighty trees have before they, too, topple over because of the lack of magic supporting their systems?

All the more reason they should hurry.

Cyrdel wrenched his attention back to his screen. The scepter's energy remained represented by flickering red light. Perhaps he should change that display but not now. "How can we be sure nobody doesn't already know we're here?"

Denara pointed at the nearest tents. "Someone would have run out the past three hours."

"Motionless communication?" Cyrdel jerked his chin at the camp. "A thyminka might be monitoring the stream of interconnected thoughts. It's an efficient system of reporting since it's more secure."

"Well, can't you tap in on it?" Denara leveled her gaze at him. "You're a brownie."

Cyrdel coughed into his fist. Lately, his choices of not directing his efforts into discovering his other brownie talents had been slapping him in the face. He just shook his head at Denara's question. "Ravalee was usually the one in charge of the mind department," his heart did that painful twinge it was known to do whenever Ravalee came up in the conversation.

Denara blinked at him once and looked away. "I'm sorry. Losing someone hurts. I know."

Cyrdel was about to open his mouth to ask how Denara knew when Nyxis interjected, "How about we use a bit of magic and then plan?" He scratched his scalp. "We won't need to drain our magic just maybe...draw some from it?"

"Good idea," Denara plopped to the ground before sitting cross-legged and facing Cyrdel and Nyxis. "Let's have an inventory of what we can do individually."

Well, I can do ice magic," Nyxis opened his palm to demonstrate. "I know escuira spells to an extent but we know I can't perform them anymore. And I uh...can wave a sword around."

Denara frowned at that comment. Cyrdel knew exactly what Nyxis was talking about. His arms still have a phantom of hurt from all the physical learning he did the past three days. Now, along with a tool belt tied by his waist, a leather baldric housing a dagger joined it. It sported such an old design which spooked Cyrdel a bit. These things belonged in the galleries of Nanvera yet here he was, tugging it along like a baby pelgar.

Cyrdel filed that thought away. "I can ascertain where the scepter is with this screen and I can disable the alarms if I get close to it," he raised a finger. "I can also throw around explosives and wave a sword around."

"And I can control six sprite abilities," Denara laid a hand to her chest. "It seems like I'm still attuned to my abilities as a nymph."

Cyrdel raised an eyebrow. "Which are?"

"Form alteration," Denara's eyes twinkled. "I can alter my form to resemble water and in turn have all the attributes of water."

Huh. Handy. Cyrdel's gears in his brain began turning. "Will you be able to seep through the soil and emerge through the other side?"

Denara shook her head. "Being in that state means I will be disoriented and focused only on getting back to my original form," she crossed her arms. "It's going to take everything in me to just pull my thoughts together."

"Hmm," Cyrdel tapped his chin, a plan already forming in his head. "And if you're not, say, thoroughly fluid?"

Denara's eyebrows knitted as confusion crumpled her features. "What are you thinking?"

"Something crazy," Cyrdel smiled and drew closer to his companions. The plan had been fully formed at this point. "Listen up."