“He wouldn't live much longer," Rumalan says, "He still has Disfavored captives in there and we don't leave them behind." (This is technically true.) "There isn't anyone in the Blade Grave outside those walls who doesn't want him dead." (Hyperbole, but intended as truth.)

And if the fortress somehow manages to hold out despite this, they probably starve; and if Stalwart negotiates for independence, they don't get food from Kyros and they probably starve, since all the farmland for hundreds of miles has been scoured by the Edict. 

"I see. Do you happen to have a map of Terratus and the Tiers?" 

"We might have one of the Tiers at camp, but probably not a broad one." (False.) "The Oath Bound scout team, maybe. I'm sure the General does, back at Iron Hearth." (True.) She waves in vaguely the direction of where Ipaxalon teleported up, a little way east.

"This is all helpful context, thank you. I propose that I accompany you to camp, if it is near enough, to provide the offered healing and continue our conversation. I would appreciate a look at any map you are willing to share. I do hope to speak to General Graven Ashe once I am better oriented to the region, if he is amenable, but I suspect that will take longer to arrange." 

Well, she can't actually keep him out, not if his flight was real and it doesn't really seem like he could fake it... Unless it's all an illusion? But an illusion this good would be Archon work, probably, and then separately stopping part of the storm...

 "What kind of things can you heal? Most of our wounds heal themselves, and those that don't, usually need a specialist for healing magic to not cause lasting harm."

"At the moment, I am offering to heal nonlethal non-amputation injuries and cure infectious diseases. The kind of magic I would use does not, as a general rule, cause lasting harm unless the target is undead, a type of creature animated by necromantic magic." He already suspected they might be concerned about inviting strange dragons into their camp, so he clarifies, "I would also be happy to heal at a nearby location of your choice, if you are comfortable moving those who need treatment. If you have no need of either kind of healing, of course, then the point is moot."

"If an ordinary person has a bone that's broken and started to set in the wrong spot, will your healing re-set it properly? Disease cures would be appreciated, but the Sigil of Healing, where it's used, is inconsistent on bone and in cases typically only the Legion can survive are significantly worse about things like causing ingrown intestines when healing a local injury, rather than rearranging things back into the proper order before restoring working condition. Therefore the specialists. ...I don't think there are any present security issues with you entering the camp over overflying it, so we can return there now if you'd prefer. Please don't take that as an assumption for the future or for other camps."

Her squad stands slightly more flexibly, ready to turn and move.

"It depends how far along the healing has progressed, and in extremis one can re-break the bone and it will heal properly in the vast majority of cases. I don't know if your Sigils operate on the same principle as the symbol of healing that I would use, but mine provides a surge of positive energy that is generally quite good at putting organs into healthy configurations. Remove disease is not guaranteed to work on the first try, especially against particularly stubborn or magical diseases, but it works on most infections and I can make more than one attempt." He's not going to burn a heal on this, he may need the spells later, but he has a couple symbols of remove disease in his bag. 

He will acknowledge the one-time nature of this invitation and follow the squad at a walk when they set out. (The winds outside the Stormwall will obediently calm themselves at their approach. It sometimes takes him a couple attempts to get a control winds to stick, but as an innate ability he can put quite a lot of power into it. He gives no visible sign that this requires effort on his part.) 

En route, he will ask: "What would be considered common knowledge about magic in Terratus?"

"It all comes from Kyros or Archons, ultimately. Some bookish mages work out the basic sigils from studying the Archon directly, or sometimes their history later. It can't duplicate everything they do, but it does something like it, and - Rufus, can anyone learn sigil magic?"

"Anyone with the head for it, commander. Literate, good memory for the events and complex sigil diagrams that go with them."

"So, most people who are interested, at least. Not me, that's for sure."

"Interesting." It sounds much more like his brand of magic than Earth's did, at least in learnability. "From their history, you say? What sorts of things can mages commonly do, with sigils?"

At some point he should check if these people have souls, but he's not asking the Iron Guard. It might not be wise to risk introducing the likes of Kyros or the Voices of Nerat to the concept of necromancy.

"Pretty varied," Rufus says, "And if you get a dozen clever ones together it's hard to say what you can't do, those Sages left some crazy things in the Burning Library. As I've heard it, any reproducible effect, you need to keep events from the life of the sigil's Archon, appropriate to the effect, in mind as you draw it. Magic comes from Archons, even if it stays in the world after they die. I've seen... illusions, manipulating fire or creating it, same with ice and lightning, moving stone, strengthening the limbs or the skin, weakening bodies... whatever that is that the Chorus Blood Chanters do that causes frenzy and panic. I've never seen gusts of wind but I'm sure you could, unless there's never been an Archon of Wind to trace it from."

Everything he learns about the Scarlet Chorus makes them sound like some kind of horrifying Abyssal death cult. 

"Are there factors that limit how frequently one might use sigils? For instance, could a mage repeatedly move stone or cast lightning for hours at a time, and if not, what problems would they encounter if they tried?"

"I think they tire, but recover quickly."

"If they're not very good, lack of focus makes them make mistakes," Rufus says, "And that gets worse over minutes of battle or hours of work, like any craftsman's work."

"I've never seen it. But then our mages are very good. And barely-trained enemy mages getting all the life drained out of them in seconds, or swallowed in a bonfire, if they didn't have the control they thought they had, that I've seen."

It's probably not a good use of his time to try to learn this magic from scratch unless he's here a very long time. For now, though, there are more pressing problems, like all of the everything going on in this place. He'll stick to the basic practical knowledge for now, with liberal application of discern lies to whoever's speaking. He doesn't particularly expect them to lie, but that makes it all the more informative if they do.

He has a few more questions about the common-knowledge limits of magic before they arrive at camp. Ballpark power and range of a typical combat spell, whether the Blood Chanters seem to be doing some kind of ritual sacrifice, what feats the Archons have been publicly observed to perform which other mages could not match. 

They argue a bit about whether there's ritual sacrifice. They conclude that probably the sending a wave of new conscripts to die and then painting blood on the ones who live when they're inducted into the Chorus properly wasn't actually magic and that's the only time they've seen them deliberately do anything that involved killing their own people. One of the others suggests that's just because they don't keep slaves around to sacrifice, but Rumalan 's confident that Nerat would have them take slaves if it actually benefited his mages, he can't actually care about it. Anyway they've never seen anyone else do it, enemy or ally.

They're a little tighter lipped about range and power of sigil magic but it's pretty much all sounding short range, though you can get catapult-level artillery with preparation. Nerat's made of green flames and floating bronze, and he eats people. Their minds, their souls, who knows, the bodies are never seen again - the General would love to prove he's done it to the Disfavored, specifically to - someone important they won't describe, but they can't. Bleden Mark, Headsman of the Court of Tunon, can travel through shadows and no one's quite sure what else, or how far. Many miles, at least. The Triplets of Winter up north were all born stillborn and still aren't any warmer than that, and it's always winter in the Northern Empire now, except the parts set aside for the Disfavored's families.

Could they elaborate on the Triplets of Winter, that...does not sound like a natural phenomenon, but he's not clear on what events are supposed to have caused what, there.

"That might be a myth," Rufus says, "I'm pretty sure there's another Archon who had power as a child, because she's barely an adult now and her title isn't new, but it's not a common story about any others. And asking too much about how an Archon earned her title - or their mutual title - isn't wise. But Ranna, Nirabel, and Slayr are all ice-cold, they act like one person rather than three sisters half the time, and one of their holidays is about honoring their mother for dying of chills delivering them."

What an awful way to be born into power. Tragedies like that are not unheard of in sorcerer families, but still. 

He'll ponder what he's heard on the remainder of the trip to camp.

There's a camp! It's got several fortified compressed-metal 'tents', and walls, and a dozen more people visible. Most of them are outfitted the same as Rufus and the rest of Rumalan's squad; a few of them are in colorless linen, wearing metal collars and doing menial labor.

"Stadius fixed up yet, Ludovicus?"

"No, Guard Rumalan, still the messy fracture. We sent a messenger to the Oath Bound but haven't gotten a reply."

"They'll be a little busy. This is Ipaxalon, the one blocking the storm; he offered healing in trade, which isn't from the usual Sigil. Also curing diseases - Lysus still has that lingering lockjaw, and check if anyone else has something they could use help throwing off. Bring 'em over."

"Yes, commander!"

"Sir Ipaxalon, if you could join me there?", she says, indicating the largest lean-to.

Ipaxalon obliges.

"I notice your laborers do not wear the same uniforms as what I assume to be enlisted soldiers," he observes. "Under what arrangement are they employed?" 

"Prisoners of war we've kept as slaves. They're more fragile than us, but still useful even treated honorably," she says offhandedly, unconcerned.

"Stadius! Show me the bad leg, would you? This Ipaxalon says he can heal without the usual problems we need surgeons for."

Stadius is on a cot, and his armor is neatly piled on a camp table next to him, though his sword is still sheathed at his side and the large shield in reach. He pulls back the blanket, and indeed, his right leg looks pretty shattered, bare and with bone cutting through skin. There's no blood, and the skin's been washed - no dust, unlike the blanket and most other surfaces.

"Go ahead, sir, if you're offering."

Again with the slavery. Somehow he doubts this government will have a burgeoning abolitionist movement on the cusp of key political victories. 

Ipaxalon opens the pack fastened to his chest with a cantrip, and levitates out a small stainless steel plate on which is engraved a permanent symbol of healing. The burst of positive energy it provides is usually more than enough to bring a wounded ordinary human from the brink of death to full health, sans any missing limbs.

(He could use claws instead of magic to retrieve the symbol, but magic is both more convenient and, he suspects, more impressive. He doesn't plan to reveal too many of his capabilities to a group he may end up fighting, but it is also useful to be seen as powerful and competent when one is attempting to negotiate with those who primarily respect power and competence.) 

They have pretty good discipline, but the brief signs of surprise in their expressions still show.

And when the bones almost instantly withdraw into the skin and the skin heals over good as new, Stadius looks very surprised. He flexes the leg.

"Feels good as new, Commander Rumalan. Thank you, Sir Ipaxalon."

"It is my pleasure." And he means it. There's a strong possibility he'll be at war with these people within the month, but that doesn't make their suffering any less important. He will heal whoever they bring him.

There are only three people here with disease enough to be impairing them but they assume magic on offer is only limited by time to repeat it so five others follow them when Rumalan nods them in. They're all very thankful, and though they're probably thinking about how they'd fight him, they don't show those thoughts overtly.