ROD - Chapter 120

Chapter One-Hundred-Twenty: War Chest – Part One

Many believe there are several types of mages. I believe there are only two: those who are assholes and those who are not.

-UWO Sergeant Clayton-

With a bargain struck in good faith, Seraphine has left. My plans do not require her, but I would be remiss if I didn’t leave myself a backup plan for any unforeseen obstacles. The buff is still surging in waves as my body begins to accept the changes once more. I had forgotten how intoxicating certainty felt in an uncertain world.

It will take time for my connection to Sage to be restored since the deity connection is muted again. In that time, I’m rather curious what a mage’s War Chest looks like. The possibilities feel tantalizing. I’m eager to know.

My pace is brisk, like a man filled with purpose, a man possessed with the desire to find all the knowledge in the world and hold it in his palm.

“Carl, what is your official title?” I ask as I press through the shrubs.

“Er… Archmagus I suppose, depending on what circle or order you’re in, why?” he asks, his gaze shifts as he looks me up and down, “You’re buffed past your tits, young man, what fairy did you fuck for that kind of bewildering magic? For fuck’s sake, there’s at least seven thousand cords in one section of it.”

“It’s a divine buff.”

“Divine,” he looks me up and down, “Yeah, that would make sense. Doesn’t have the drivel hollow stroke of system code. That’s handmade, and custom I’d wager.” He raises an eyebrow, “Been a while since I saw true divine works. Well, besides the grimoire…” he pauses, “No asking about that, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

So, her buff is based in magic, as in he can see what she’s done… as in it could be studied… theoretically.

Replicated even.

Interesting. Imagine a world where I didn’t need a goddess to make me like this. Imagine a world where I could step toward the peak of possibilities and move beyond it.

“What does the buff even do? I can’t make heads or tails of any of it, too many lines, too many runes intersecting. Too many threads… gods that’s amazing stuff,” Carl says, blowing smoke.

“It’s an intelligence buff.”

“And I’m the Queen of England. That’s not a normal intelligence buff, boyo. That’s fucking complicated is what it is.”

“Do you… have spells to boost intelligence?”

“Of course, though their dangerous and usually frowned upon. Some cause dementia according to my friend Deb.”

So many interesting possibilities. Can it stack with the divine one I wonder…

Refocusing, I say, “Archmagus is an interesting title. That explains the mana bundles in your body. I didn’t notice anything as obvious when I checked Clayton. Is that a learned skill, genetic, or a side effect from prolonged true magic usage?”

He blinks at me, “It’s a little bit of all three, but how did you see that?”

“I’ve been studying mana tracing with an old nemesis, side effect I think.”

“Right… well, it’s peculiar that you noticed, even with your witch like healing skill.”

My stride does not break as I pass him.

“Archmagus, you don’t have any knowledge of temporal spells or items do you?” I ask, examining the fluctuations of mana in the air as I move. Like little threads everywhere, it’s quite messy and yet, profoundly interesting.

“Temporal, you want to mess with time? Bad business that, trying to go back in time.”

“Not going back, just looking to slow it down, significantly.”

For now at least. The number of books in Carl’s study won’t read themselves in six hours. I need every ounce of knowledge he has accumulated. I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever new player is on the board that has changed Seraphine’s attitude is going to fuck with me. Perhaps get me in a situation where I’ll be reviewed by one of the high gods. Which would not be presently recommended. Presently…

“Also, Archmagus, I’m assuming that you can help me get to New York city rather quickly?”

“Aye, not that I’d recommend such a deplorable city of hags, nothing good ever comes from there, all pompous and no brain mages. Besides a few very rare exceptions.” He chuffs on his pipe, “Been that way for a hundred years. Probably will be for another hundred at least. Why do you need to go there?”

I look at him and smile, “Just have to remind people why they shouldn’t poke the bear.”

He puffs a cloud and beckons me through the door. I hear Clayton interrogating Karen upstairs, she’s cursing loudly again. Moving through the lower halls, we head toward a stone staircase. A circular one with candles that light as we pass and go out after the next lights. Intuitive.

“These are enchanted with intentions, or reactive?”

He looks at one of them, grabbing it and tilting it, “Reactive, boyo, take a look at your feet, it’s a proximity ward that we stepped on.”

“How does it know which direction to move the candlelight? Is that written in some kind of magic code, like a computer code?”

“Erm, I’m not versed with computers and the like, never had a need for it with magic and all that, also, complex magic tends to break most electronics anyway. Not sure why though…” he ponders it a moment, “Could be frequencies or I don’t know, electromagnetic stuff,” he shrugs.

“How is it that you can see it so well?” I ask, studying the man intently. Perhaps his eyes are enhanced somehow.

“It’s a feeling more than a sight. Like you felt the bundles, if you follow that path you can feel even smaller fluctuations, and if you dive even deeper, you can change them, alter them to fit your needs.”

“Like creating a new spell, for example?”

“Well, that’s a bit advanced, but yes, technically, one could use the root of a known spell to perform an unknown spell action. That’s how all spells are born, at least that’s what I was told as a lad. Been many moons since then though. Most people practice the old spells, and give it some personal tweaks when they become more than a novice.” He raises his hand in front of him, incanting some words under his breath, I feel the mana spindle and shape as fire appears just above his palm. “This is a simple fire spell, but if I were to change just a wee bit…” he furrows his brow and pulls out his wand, moving it in slow and precise movements. The flame changes color to blue, then red, then violet… interesting.

“Is there a difference in the mana consumption between those?”

He shakes his head, closing his palm and extinguishing the fire, “Not really… well, technically there is some to make changes to a spell, a marginal cost, depending on how well you understand it. But all in all, no, that was just changing the hue that is perceived, it’s not like a chemical fire, it doesn’t need a specific element to burn a specific color. Most never tweak their magic though, bloody boring shit watching a hundred identical fireballs. Glad I retired from being a professor.”

“Why don’t most people make changes, Archmagus?”

“Well, redoing spells and making spells is a very dangerous business. One wrong move and you could accidentally cause it to siphon all the mana from your body all at once. That’s a fast way to get dusted, especially when you do high tier magics. Nasty those are.” He stops before a stone doorway that has a gargoyle with a mustache that goes past its pointed ears. He coughs, “Gregory, open up, please.”

The stone gargoyle shifts ever so slowly… is that a soul trapped in stone, or something else I wonder.

“Password,” Gregory says with a scowl.

“Catnip.”

“That is an expired password,” Gregory says with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Carl grumbles.

“Password accepted.”

The gargoyle moves to one side of the stone door and flicks his wrist, the doors open slowly. It is now that I feel it, like a pulse of raw magic drifting through the doorway. The Lay Line, wherever he gets his magic from, it is close to this place.

Carl fiddles with some levers that lead to another room, and then another… how many rooms is necessary? There’s something strange with each one, like it’s warded slightly different.

As we march through the lit corridor and down another flight of stairs, I can’t help but think my bag of tricks feels rather full this time around. Despite not having the brokenness of Abyss at my full disposal. Well, technically it is still broken. Especially after what I agreed to with Mythren in his office.

Allowing an item to retain the velocity that it was stored with was rather irresponsible of him. His desperation to have Abyss caged. Where does it actually stem from? Terra becoming Sage’s superior also seems strange under the circumstances, given that she’s a blue now. How did she manage to get those legendary tomes to my friends as well? There’s a connection between Sage, Terra and Mythren, one that… oh.

I blink. Could it be? That would actually make sense, but how does that work exactly? Do they… hmm. Asking it out loud might be unadvisable, if it were in fact true.

That’s such a fascinating theory. Mythren you sly fox. Everything slides into clarity as I parse my world of puzzle pieces.

“We’re here,” Carl says, striking a match and lighting a fresh pipe of tobacco. He turns to me, he snaps his fingers and flames ignite all over the room in wonderfully crafted braziers, torches without wicks hum with the flickers of magic, “Any requests?”

My eyes take in the sights. Hundreds upon hundreds of weapons, books, vials and scrolls line shelves in a semi-organized manner. Some of them have chains wrapping them.

“Any recommendations?” I ask.

He smiles, “Oh yes, plenty. Anything you specifically think you’ll need?”

“Well, if you’re really asking, Archmagus, I do have a list of things I might have a use for. Also, how do you feel about loaning books?”

“Depends on the book, don’t mind letting you read Count of Monte Cristo, but I doubt that’s what you’re after, no?”

“I’m looking more for anything related to temporal manipulation to start, I have approximately five hours to become a fledgling mage and potentially deal with a divine threat on Earth.”

He blinks at me, “What’s your plan then?”

***

“No that wouldn’t quite work,” Carl chuffs, moving a cylindrical device toward me on the round table. There are deep grooves like someone used to throw knives at it while it was laid on its side. “You can’t change a binding mid sequence, or quadruple cast, the human mind isn’t capable of holding that much at a time, even with the intelligence spell you’ve asked for. Even with whatever blessing that goddess of yours let slip from her dress. Just isn’t possible.”

“Theoretically if it was possible, what would happen?” I ask, musing a strange totem he gave me.

His brow furrows, “Well I’m not really sure, but I think it would go bang… like a really big bang. And if you could somehow harness it into a binding… well, it would be a new class of magic. You’d hardly be the first to try it, especially after the world wars. Hell, I even dabbled in increasing explosive damage with my sapper spells. Lost my hearing doing it, but I did manage to increase some of the efficiency.”

“Noted,” I smile, tilting my head to the side, “Mind if I look at your notes for that spell? Also, what are the requirements for that temporal rift you mentioned?”