Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 50

I donned the robe I wore to the battle of Gold Castle and withdrew my most powerful war staff. The memory of taking my time to reach Laxton Bay burned me, and I didn’t want a repeat of that. The near-loss of an entire city wasn’t something I felt any pride in, no matter how much the locals had celebrated. Knowing I could potentially lose entire clans of dwarves, numbering anywhere from fifty to several thousand, was not something that rested easily on me. 

I found the prospect of returning to Sena City a distasteful matter. The king, in all his maligned wisdom, had declared me an outlaw and a traitor. There was an order for my death, no doubt with a substantial reward. I could visit the ghost of the king left behind by Pyl’s bargain, but I refused. I knew doing so would threaten to unravel one of the barrels I had shoved my anger and grief into, the feelings I felt regarding his decision. If one barrel broke, then it might break them all.

I stood on the precipice of something dangerous there, and needed to be extremely cautious in my approach to such things.  It was my fault, too, to be sure. I had allowed myself to grow too close to those around me, despite knowing better. I could—no I would—pay the cost of such excess in time, I knew it. I just hoped that the toll for that came after the end of the age. The humans and dwarves of the next age could call me Nemon the Morose for all I cared, so long as there were humans and dwarves alive to do so.

I snorted at myself for such melodramatic musings, and donned a belt that could carry the four Lanterns of the Grand Magus. If I had time for such thoughts when I returned, I would compose a poem. I had made some improvements to the artifacts recently so that I could draw their power more quickly, or use them to cast some very specific spells directly without me being the conduit. In this manner, if a battle took place, I would act as five spellcasters instead of one. And that was without considering the enchantments in my warstaff. 

I had five other dungeon cores remaining in my laboratory in various states completion, and a design to turn them all into one singular artifact of overwhelming power. At present, I copied the frame from a war banner, but I intended to improve upon that as soon as I proved the artifact functioned as needed. In my mind, I pictured modifying my war staff so that it rose above my head by an arm and a half’s length, with four crossbars that each held to lanterns. An unwieldy thing that would be difficult to carry, but that was only the first version. 

With my preparations complete, I slowly walked out of my tower and across the bridge to the gatehouse. Today, the skies were covered in clouds, and cold rain drizzled downwards as if the world itself were crying. The guards who walked the battlements between towers stopped in their patrols to watch, and the bronze gate was opened for me before I even made it halfway across the bridge. Where yesterday I had found the faces of those around the tower to reflect the happiness of the Heroes’ victories, today every face I saw was drawn tight with seriousness. 

On the left side of the path beyond, I could see small buildings had arisen beside the captured hydra. A smokehouse drifted dark clouds into the sky. A butchery that cut up the meats and bones stood nearby. The skin and scales were being tanned and stitched into armor. Or perhaps it wasn’t stitched – the details of making armor eluded me, and I didn’t bother to ponder them. 

On the other side of the path the dwarves had makeshift homes set up. With more skill in [Earth Manipulation] than I had, their dome-shaped buildings looked like nests in the ground. The buildings possessed a certain type of artistic flair that I couldn’t copy, but I wouldn’t necessarily want to. They looked perfectly mundane in a way that irked me some. Likely a limit they put on their own craftmanship after the Age of Dwarves to keep the gods from coveting what they made. It still amused me that they named their clans ridiculous names in an effort to keep themselves humble. Of the dwarves I could see out and about, they would pause and wave in my direction as I passed. 

I nodded back, of course, as it was the polite thing to do, but I was headed to the gateway at the end of the path. I small market had risen there, one that bought and sold all types of things—though the most common of the village’s trade was in muck from the bottom of the swamp. While the traders and villagers would stop in conversations to look in my direction, none offered me a greeting and I didn’t bother to greet them. 

I paused outside the gateway and considered turning the defensive ward on it back on while I was gone, but the small market was bustling with activity and I knew the dwarves would be leaving soon. [Magus] Nichols would see to that. I had been more and more impressed with her actions recently, and she took to her duties with a new eagerness now that I had offered her apprenticeship. More, she had grown more confident in directing the other mages after the offer, and now there weren’t any issues being elevated to my attention.

One of Froom’s mages stood by the side of the gateway, either to monitor the comings and goings or to ensure the gateway worked. He stepped up next to me as I stood there and offered a deep bow. 

“[Wizard] Fargus, how may I serve?” The mage was a young man with blonde hair whose resemblance to Walker struck a little too close to my heart. He had the same matching skin tone, though his eye color was off. Yet the facial features suggested a possible familial connection. His age was about that of when Walker had joined with me as well, and I dreaded finding out what would happen when Mena spotted the fellow. 

With the hope he wouldn’t take it as arrogance, I kept my gaze on the portal as I spoke, “Direct me to the portal to Sena City.” 

“Of course!” he said, as if doing so was the greatest of honors. What followed was a few steps through the portal and then a roundabout route through the gate hall Alred had constructed on his plane. The gateway to Sena City was much like the others, with the difference of six mages guarding it instead of one or two. My escort was quick to announce my name and title to allow my entry, and I gave him a nod of thanks as he waited. 

I considered briefly that this portal may lead to a trap, but shook my head of that notion. Alred would have no reason to trap me, beyond my artifacts and library. The library I would let him visit at his leisure if he asked, and my artifacts—well, the protections on them would likely make any other mage of our standing hesitant if not outright fearful.  With only the barest pause in my steps, I stepped through the gateway to Sena City. 

Contrary to what I had been expecting, the gateway had been built inside a wine cellar beneath an inn or tavern. I stepped through to find my shoes on a stained wood floor and myself at the end of a hallway created by enormous barrels of drinks. The odor of fermented drinks of different types was so strong that it felt like I had been struck, and more than one barrel dripped from tiny leaks onto the wood. Dimly glowing mage lights were placed in the four corners of the room.

To either side, 3rd Tier mages hidden under illusions stiffened and prepared defenses, only to let them go as they saw me. I had my own defense that made their magics useless against me, but I think that I simply caught them off guard with my arrival. I smirked at their smiling faces when I nodded in their direction before walking down the hall. I could hear whispered confusion about who I was and how I had seen through their magic as I departed, but paid little attention. Not being recognized had its own benefits.

I, myself, donned an illusion of a normal citizen of Sena City before climbing the stairs to the first floor of the building and passing through the bustling kitchens into the main room of a tavern I didn’t recognize. No one stopped me or gave me a second glance as I departed, and soon I stood in surprise and worry as I looked around at a very different city than the one I had left. I had stepped into a battlefield.