Allanther

Wizard's Tower book 1 Amazon release!

Hello! So there's been a lot of ups and downs recently in my life, and I apologize for not being more communicative here. 

One of the ups, though, is that book 1 of Wizard's Tower has just been released on Amazon!

....Technically it releases on May 3rd, which is like 2 hours from now for me, but I'm so excited I can't wait, lol.  

It's available in ebook, paperback, and audiobook formats. The cover for the paperback is illustrated by an awesome artist, Caleb Smith.  The narrators for the Audiobook, Justin Thomas James, Jeff Hays, Andrea Parsneau are just phenomenal.  This is gonna be great!

Ebook: https://www.amazon.com/Wizards-Tower-LitRPG-Progression-Fantasy-ebook/dp/B09RKNJQS3 

Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Wizards-Tower-LitRPG-Progression-Fantasy/dp/B09YDDPC4H/ 

Audiobook: https://www.amazon.com/Wizards-Tower-LitRPG-Progression-Fantasy-ebook/dp/B09RKNJQS3 

I owe a special thanks to the folks that helped make this possible, so thank you!

All payments paused

For tragic personal reasons I won't be publishing new chapters for a while.  

I've paused all this months payments. I apologize to everyone who was looking forward to it. Please be assured that when I return I'll return to patreon first.

General updates

Hello!  Just wanted to give a quick update for anyone wondering where the next chapter is at. Before that, though, thanks for being so understanding about the break!  

Update 1:

Plotting for book 4 is ALMOST done. It still needs to be tightened a bit, but it will take the form of ~seven interconnected short stories that lead to a final bam. (+/- the intro and epilogue). My plan is to push those short stories out in a way that will have the relevant chapters posted at the same time. 

I will also be taking about a month-long break from posting to Royal Road in February, so chances are, you all will be way ahead of them by the time I start posting there again in March. In clarification, this break for patrons is almost over. The break begins for Royal Road readers on 1/31 and will be longer for them than for you.

Update 2:

An Old Man's Journey has an Audiobook coming out on 2/1. Super excited about it.

Update 3: 

Wizard's Tower books 1-3 have been signed with a publisher and book 1 is set to release sometime in May. I was bouncing off the walls in joy at what's likely the first major step in becoming a real author. What does that mean for you? No real changes at your end, other than you will be able to brag to friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances, and complete strangers that you read it here first. 

Update 4:

I'm looking into possible stuff like t-shirts and those kinda things for those interested. Not sure how much call there is for it at present, but having it available if you want it is what I'm going for.

As always - thank you for reading and your support!

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 58

As the spell finished, I floated down to land on the top of Froom’s tower and couldn’t withhold my smile. Alred, though, sighed and shook his head.

“What is it?” I asked with a brow raised.

“Nemon, it’s… I… well, are you certain this is what you wanted for payment?” He asked.

I nodded vigorously. Of course it was! “Come now. I told you that this is the best moment to vanquish this evil. To try any other time would give them time to return. It must be now. And when I return to my tower, I will continue the fight.” 

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Only a decade or so,” I lied with a straight face. Who would admit to fighting against an enemy for longer than that and not already being victorious?

Alred sighed again and turned to walk beside me. His back was bent with age and his pace was slow compared to what it once was. In a way, I envied him for that. As we began to descend the great spiraling staircase down his crystal tower, he spoke again. 

“I know that it is a lot to ask of you my friend, but this seems an unequal bargain for you. I was reluctant to ask, originally.  I just can’t see another way. Four times now my mages have found others sneaking in hydra eggs. Not just merchants, either. There is nobility behind them. Closing the gates is the only—”

“It’s fine.” I waved my hand dismissively. It wasn’t, of course. Who knew when the threat of the Pestilence would wane? To be charged with watching for when it was safe to reopen the gates and allow the return of humanity was an enormous responsibility. Yet, because he asked, I would grant him his request. “Let us speak of other matters. How is Lilly?”

Alred smiled in response, an earnest smile that was good to see. “You know she calls me uncle? We never had the chance for a child, the adventuring life was too thrilling. She’s a lively young lady, and meets with me every time I walk to visit Natali’s tree.”

I was already in a pleasant mood, and that news only propelled me further. “It’s a shame she wouldn’t meet with me today. I may never see her again. Yet, if she is happy here, then I will not bother her.”

Alred chuckled but said nothing.

“And my other assistants?” I inquired as we both ignored the mages who stopped and offered bows as we passed.

Alred paused in his steps as he thought, only continuing when he began to answer, “Stelk tells me that Phillipe and Drina are wed. They’ve laid claim to a tower on the northern coast of Tervan.”

My smile only grew. “Good for them. I will check on them myself when I find time then.”

Alred frowned, and I knew the next news might not make me happy, “I’ve heard that your assistant Jax has achieved some kind of 5th Tier [Beast Magus] class. I’ve also heard that two Heroes, Diedre and Leslie, have built separate towers atop fallen Mirktallean cities. And that Jax stops at both between assignments.”

I withheld a sigh. Of course, it wouldn’t be all good news. That would be too much to ask. I could see Jax doing something of the sort as vengeance for how Leslie had once treated him and his brother. Those types of things can sometimes twist people, and while it wasn’t pleasant to hear, I was slightly appreciative that he waited until after the evacuation to do so. 

We had neared the bottom of the tower, now and were making our way through the first floor towards a tunnel that led to the gateways. Alred took my silence as a grant to continue talking, not that I minded.

“The Hero Tond has wed Queen Eistoni, though she forbid him taking on title. There is rumor that he slips away to visit with Diedre when they argue. If I am right, closing the gateways will leave him trapped at her tower.” 

If Jax arrived while Tond was there, that could lead to… I shook my head of the notion and noticed Alred’s smirk. Well, at least someone would get some enjoyment out of that. As far as wizard tricks go, I couldn’t think of one to top it. 

“Have you heard from… what were their names? Meathead and that priestess?”

“Diedre. And no. After she healed his head injury, he thanked her very vigorously at the inn. They were so loud that complaints rose to my ears and I sent them off adventuring.”

“Adventuring?”

“Yes.” I coughed into my fist and looked at Alred with a suppressed smile. “I may have issued them to find the crown of a fallen king in the Tervan mountains. A crown that doesn’t exist.”

Alred gave a great belly laugh in answer, and we stepped into the room he housed all the gateways. I couldn’t help but frown. The room had been greatly changed. Rather than a marketplace and crossroads, he had made it a throne room. Thick colorful carpets lined the hall, and the great number of enchantments thickened the very mana. 

Behind the throne, stood two tall statues. On the right, a statue of Mena stood, looking heroic and beautiful. The inscription along the bottom of it read ‘blessed of Elora’. The other side was graced with a similarly made statue. Paladin Adam’s figure cut a more disciplined pose, though the sculpture had taken liberties with a mustache. The inscription beneath his read ‘blessed of Bi’. 

My pleasant emotions fled at the sight of the two, a reminder of those who had fallen. A reminder of duties to fulfill. I was more and more considering taking the magical Authority of Life as my third. Kine’s request pushed me in that direction even further. It held the promise of healing Mena, of a solution to my Longevity spell, and of fulfilling Kines request. I didn’t think the hydra would take long to die out, but I don’t know how long the End of an Age should last. It had already been a year and there was little change I could see.

Yet, in thinking of Mena, another name crossed my mind. A man who suffered similar injuries to Mena and would serve as an excellent test subject for healing spells. “Alred, have you heard anything on the whereabouts of the assassin Cothram? I’ve not seen or heard of him since the battle.”

Alred, sensing my change in mood, shook his head. “I heard that some bard hired an assassin to kill an up jumped bandit pretending to be a nobleman, but I don’t know if that killer is the man you seek.”

We stopped before the gateway leading back to my tower and turned to look at each other. We shared a quick hug followed by parting words.

“Farewell, my old friend,” Alred said with thick emotion

“You as well,” I answered. We both knew we would never see each other again. 

As I stepped through the portal, Kine stood there to greet me. He was wearing fine robes and looked healthier than I had seen him in a long time. 

“Welcome back, Master.” He bowed.

I nodded in return. His expression told me that he wanted to speak about something, so I motioned towards the tower. “Walk with me.”

 The afternoon sun felt warm against my back and went well with the thin air of the plateau. Behind me, the gateway fell silent. I could start it up again when I desired, but, for now, I let it be.

“Of course!” He paused and, as we walked, he then began what was clearly a prepared speech. “Master Nemon, I wanted to request an audience with you.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I have been thinking about Rhaela recently, and she’s already been imprisoned for—”

“Say nothing more. Free her or execute her. Justice is for you to decide.” I offered him a smile but was thrilled at his request. I was more than annoyed with her constant watching me while I experimented. Not that I blamed her, I imagined confinement was an utterly boring experience. Still, the feeling of a set of eyes on you as you worked wasn’t a welcome one to me.

“I—I see.” Kine fell into a silence as we entered the tower and began walking up the staircase. A confused look passed over his face, and he glanced back down the staircase to where he knew Rhaela was being held. “So, master, if you will set her free, then what—”

I clapped him on the shoulder, and offered a happy grin, “Kine, today you will see mankind’s worse enemy laid low!”  

“The Pestilence?” He asked in confusion.

“No—well, perhaps, but it wouldn’t be what I am speaking of. Kine, my good man, today you will see me cast a metamorphosis spell that will make every other spell you’ve ever seen seem like a worm compared to a hydra.”

The confusion on his face seemed to grow worse. “A worm compared to a—"

“Yes! I’ve already struck the dreaded foe from the crystal planes, and now I will eradicate it from what remains of the five kingdoms.”

“What enemy is this?!” [Magus] Nichols asked. She had crept up behind us as we walked. While normally I would reprimand her for not attending to her duties—she had recently been assigned to work with the [Totem maker] Bimly to see if an entire tower could function as a totem as well—but I was too excited. 

“What enemy you ask? Carrots, of course!" I took a breath and began to lecture, "I simply couldn’t destroy every carrot, unfortunately. Our farmers need their crops, and I wouldn't want anyone to starve. But to change them all into something else? Something like a turnip? Turnips are severely underappreciated. That, I tell you, is the path to victory!” I turned to look at the two who were following me and basked in their stunned faces. Having another see and understand the magnitude of such achievements was such a pleasant feeling.

Surprise! This chapter is the epilogue for the third book / arc!  Thank you for reading and supporting the Wizard's Tower story.  I hope you enjoyed it.

I will be taking about a two week break from today to outline the next arc/book. This will likely be about a one month or more break from when royal road reaches the end of arc. So there may be a brief overlap when both RR and patreon are all caught up, but you all won't have to wait nearly as long to get the next chapters.

If you have suggestions for what you liked and didn't like for this arc, please feel free to mention them here!  No suggestion or comment is a bad one, and I will be collecting them all for when I looked to edit and rewrite this arc.

Again, thanks for your support and for reading, Wizard's Tower will be back soon!

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 57

My spell didn’t fizzle out, though it was a close thing. Seeing three large gateways open on the other three plateaus that surrounded the monster was a surprise. Even more so, when soldiers and mages began to emerge from those gateways in quickly-marching formations. Catapults, trebuchets, and mana cannons as well. 

To the west of the Heroes, Queen Eistoni’s forces were the first to form up for battle. Knights and soldiers from western nobles with familiar heraldry seemed eager to do battle. Queen Eistoni herself was at the back of the formation with Count Wilchrest and Countess Nix. The vanguard was a host of armored bulls carrying [Paladins] of Bi, with the familiar face of the former adventurer’s guild leader leading the troop. 

On the eastern plateau, the armies of Sena poured forth like ants from a hill. The mage corp was in rare form, marching in lockstep with the rest of the forces. Catapults and trebuchets were pulled by teams of oxen, and my daughter Lilly came last, riding a stallion so fine it was fit for a king. An entire battalion of freed slave soldiers joined them, still wearing Mirktallean armor and weapons.

Opposite of the Heroes, the forces were less orderly. The mages of Sena City, under the direction of Froom’s disciples, went for a more haphazard placement with little unity. They stood together in clumps, like crowds at a festival. Next came adventurers from across the kingdom—and perhaps beyond that began to fill in the gaps between the groups, many at the fore. Froom’s mages and druids followed, as well as golems and three great mana cannons.

I looked down on them all, four forces standing proudly facing an enemy from four directions. Had it been any other foe, they may have surrendered, but this monster—a monster in the truest sense of the word—wasn’t the kind to acknowledge such a thing, if it even understood it. I doubt it was even aware, given the intensity of its current battle.

The bird of light, with its iridescent feathers and hooked beak, screeched in pain as the enormous head of the former snake god bit onto its leg--the live one from the center of the hydra necks. Shaelra screamed with it as if the injury were shared. The bull charged again, valiantly ramming into the hydra even as its body faded. My spell whisked Meathead away even as he tried a leaping overhanded swing at our enemy. 

I outstretched a finger and pointed, altering the spellcraft to strike more directly—even at the cost of some of its strength. A blast like the last time I cast it would send arcing strikes of lighting into the armies, and I couldn’t risk it. Tiny arcs of electricity buzzed along my hand, stinging reminders that changing the spell after it charged comes at a cost.  Still, I held, waiting and watching. 

Elora’s wings flapped in panic as more heads latched onto its leg, their bites climbing upwards. Its beak pierced one eye of the snake gods’ head. Boiling black blood gushed from the wound. It didn’t let go. I floated around the battle, trying to reach a side away from the bird, but they were too entangled. Then—then one of Froom’s mages cast a spell. A familiar spell that brought spikes of stone up from where the hydra twisted. 

That genius mage was but the first. Two breaths later, more mages cast. [Field of Spikes] struck the monster again and again. Another mage cast their own unique version, one that left the spikes twisting. That was only the beginning of the onslaught. A mana cannon blasted against the tail. Groups of mages called down carefully aimed blades of fire. Ice crashed against its scales. The monster let go and twisted to look southward at the new enemy.

The attacks slowed to a stop, and I knew what it was like to be transfixed by under a predatory eye. Yet, this was the moment I wanted. The bird of light flew high and circled, looking for its moment to attack. I didn’t wait for it. I infused my voice with mana so the words I shouted echoed across the canyons and ravines between the four plateaus. I wanted them all prepared should my efforts to limit the area of destruction be insufficient. 

“[Finger of the gods]!”

Mana from myself and the artifacts hanging from my belt poured like a river into the spell. Clouds overhead formed in a twisting spiral. Lightning arced towards the center, building a glowing light in the sky above. The circling bird summoned by the [High Priestess] let out a screech of triumph and shot towards that growing light. In a mixture of magic I wasn’t certain I understood myself, the avatar of Elora joined with my spell and with a bright flash, a column of holy lightning struck down. Thunder cracked.

Dust flew in great clouds up from the strike. The image of the bolt of lightning felt burnt into my eyes. I turned my gaze away from where it had fallen and saw the bolt there as if it were still striking. With heavy blinks, my vision came back. The dust began to settle, and I could hear cheers rising from the armies around us. I allowed myself a smile, but that smile fell away. 

As that dust settled, I could see the hydra still there. Half its body was charred and black. Its tail was missing, and the wings were naught but bones. Yet it still moved. Its body twisted in a knot. 

The cheers fell away, and if I was feeling the gnawing growth of fear in my stomach, I was certain I wasn’t alone. An utter silence bore down on me, on us. A low his could be heard from somewhere inside that ball, and I grit my teeth. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy! Whatever this monster was called, it had killed and eaten a god. 

Perhaps I had been wrong to come here. Perhaps I had doomed all of us. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling resigned. No, I wasn’t giving up. I would fight with everything I had to make sure the men and women around me escaped. I wasn’t certain this monster could find a way into the crystal plane, but I doubted it. They would be safe there. 

I opened my eyes and began to reform the spellwork for another cast of the same spell. Without Elora’s contribution, I wasn’t certain it would be nearly as powerful. Yet, it was my most powerful magic. That was when I heard the words of a dear friend.

“Kill it, you fools!” Alred’s voice whipped across the air, and struck the armies. Where before, it was simply his mages that had cast spells against the monster, now every spellcaster in all armies struck. Volleys of arrows and boulders flew. Beams of mana blasted. Each strike chipped away a little more, bit by bit. Somehow, [Paladin] Adam had led his bull-riders down the steep slope of a cliff and crashed into the monster—most doing more harm to themselves than to it. Golems ran off the edge of the cliffs, turning themselves into an attack.

The hydra twirled about, snapping at the air around it in a futile defense. There were just too many attacks coming from too many places for it to decide. Leslie and Diedre attacked just as much, no longer needing to worry about defense. Their spells wove in patterns around an arrow that Tond let fly, and it pierced deep into the monster and its head cracked like a stone.

An hour I watched them whittle it down, sometimes flinging my own spells when it grew too close to one plateau or another. When it finally fell, letting out a defeated hiss that was loud enough to be heard from miles away, they didn’t stop. No one wanted to risk it moving again. More than that, I didn’t want to see a piece of its body be turned into a weapon. I struck it again and again until there was naught but ash.

By the time night fell, the single day’s battle was something no one here would forget. I flew to meet with Alred, Lilly, and Queen Eistoni. The three had moved onto the northern plateau the Heroes had fought from, and now stone arches connect all four pillars. The armies rested and feasted, with campfires and song floating out into the bright starry night.

As I floated down to stand amongst them all, I smiled at the three army leaders and bowed my head.

I had prepared in my mind when the battle had been won and we were destroying the corpse. I wasn’t interested in celebrating the victory, and the thought of being forced to shake hands with each soldier and mage to thank them was a worry heavy on my mind. I took a breath, and began with a dignified air, “Thank you for coming to save the Heroes, I don’t think—"

Alred’s voice cut me off. “Nemon, you fool, we didn’t come for them.”

I started and my brow creased. “What?”

“We came for you!” His face was more than a little exasperated.

Queen Eistoni gave me a humoring smile, “How could I let my most loyal vassal fight without me?”

Lilly was looking off into the sky as she spoke next. “You’re the only family I have left…” Her hand then moved to her stomach, and—in a whisper under her breath that I don’t think she meant for anyone to hear—she added, “For now.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 56

“I must say I am surprised as such a quick decision.” Crylus held a half-smile.

“Why?” I scoffed. “If the price is to forgive you for breaking your word, how is offering a second chance not worth it? I care for those below.” I answered him, the words coming from my mouth without any forethought. Yet, as soon as I said them, I drew in a sharp breath. I was admitting to Crylus as much as to myself, and I wasn’t prepared for the consequences.

“I see. Yet, that price isn’t the only one I would ask. The debt doesn’t truly equal the challenge.”

I had suspected as much. Not that I expected him to have some internal method of weighing the value of actions, but I had expected him to be less than forthright in his bargaining. “What else would you ask of me? I shall not be providing you a vial of my blood.” 

The gnome shook his head, though his hair stayed precisely in place. “No. That wouldn’t balance the scales, and I no longer desire it.” He paused as if waiting for me to rebuke his claim. I didn’t, not because I believed him, but because the battle below was growing fiercer. He continued shortly after, “If I am to act, it comes with risk. Heavy risks. I would have your oath that should my actions lead me to the Seat of Blood, that you guide my followers to ensure I am never trapped as my kin was.”

“What do you mean?” I had purposely stayed far from religion, and this conversation was a good example of why I had chosen to do so.

“Idols should be human. Scripture should show I am intelligent. Would you have me become a beast to aid your cause?”

I ran my hand through my beard. If it wasn’t the End of the Age and the Heroes weren’t in danger, then I would never have considered it. I didn’t want to traffic with the gods, and I had already done more of that in the last five years than my entire life together. I worried that I would shrink and turn green at any moment.

Yet, I saw the cracks in Leslie’s magical shield creep dangerously high, and the representation of Bi that Meathead rode shuddered and faded more. I hadn’t the time to argue the price. “I shall not be your priest or acolyte, but offering guidance I can do. Not forever, and I won’t let it consume my purpose in life.”

“Neither do I ask for that. I ask to call on you thrice to steady the path. No more than a year of work at each call.”

I withheld my grimace. Three years working with idiots who wanted to see their god as an animal rather than a person? It wasn’t the ideal way I wanted to pursue my time. Yet, I couldn’t turn my back on the gnome to join the battle without an agreement, either, or he may strike me in it. “Very well.”

“Then as it has been said, so shall it be. You should attend to your pets below. The ones in the cave more than the others.” The gnome said as he flew higher into the sky. 

I immediately went to work. Magic to reinforce Leslie’s shield came first. Not an immediate jolt of support, but rather a link from one of the dungeon core lanterns to it. The cracks filled in quickly, and I could see color return to Leslie’s face. Meathead was next, a simple spell to save him should he fall, and a ward similar to Leslie’s were all that I thought he needed at the moment. I would look again after I checked the cavern Crylus mentioned. 

Finding it was simple enough. Reaching it, though was another matter. I had to dodge the snapping heads and flapping wings of the monster in quick succession to do so. As I had flown lower to the ground between plateaus, I saw the beast was even more horrendous than I had thought from above. The rotting and bleeding wings were hiding things. 

Beneath each was the rotting head of the blood god. On one side, the head of an enormous crow was embedded in the flesh. A broken beak and dangling eye made it a macabre sight. On the other, the second head of the snake was there. This one hung low and scraped along the ground. The neck was almost entirely without flesh, just bones and organs. The head had a hole broken through the top corner as if something had eaten its way into it. 

I cast a shielding spell as soon as I entered the low cave, and was none too late as the tail of the fallen god slapped against the plateau and sent it shakings. Inside, I found Mena—what was left of her—laying on the floor. Cothram knelt over her, using his body to shield against falling rocks, some heavy enough to break bones. When the shaking stopped I heard him speak.

“Mena, I don’t know who you follow. But whether it be in the grace of Elora’s light or Bi’s pastures, I hope that you find the peace you deserve.” 

Despite his prayers, Mena wasn’t yet dead. Not that she had long. Her body was missing not only its legs, but I could see her pelvic bone clearly from where I stood. Blood and rot mingled together where her legs should have been, and the haze of unholy magic hovered over it. 

With one hand, Cothram laid Mena’s arms across her stomach, placing her sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Next, he closed her eyes. I could see his other arm suffered from the same rot that had hurt her. The skin peeled away in purple and black boils that left splatters of melted flesh on the ground. 

Still, Mena breathed, and that meant something to me. “Stand back.”

Cothram jumped in surprised, and gave me a shocked look, before following my order. I stretched my focus to the limit to cast three spells. The sleep spell was first, and easiest. I couldn’t tell if it truly took effect, with the pain she must be in, but I could hope. Next, I cast two spells simultaneously. [Petrify] took effect quickly, though its cost in mana was high. [Eart Manipulation] was less costly, though compacting the stone in the cavern so that no rock would shatter her petrified form took much more focus. I wasn’t used to trying to change stone that was already moving and shaking. 

I followed it up with a dense magical shield to protect her stone body should it need it. I hoped it didn’t, but I wouldn’t risk it. Petrified as she was, there was still a chance to save her if I could find the correct spells to heal her wounds. It wasn’t much of a chance—a large part of me doubted I would succeed. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from trying. 

When I was done, I turned to Cothram. For once, he bowed solemnly and seriously.

“I can do nothing against this foe. None of my skills or weapons even scratch its scales. Pulling Mena here is all I could do.” The look in his eye was painful for me to see. It felt like a confession of failure. 

Why he told me, I wasn’t certain. Still, if he had pulled Mena here, then he had done a more important duty than I have for the battle so far. I couldn’t help but to appreciate that. I clapped him on the shoulder and, with Crylus’s recent conversation, answered his plea. 

“Then you did right. Consider any debt you owe me to be absolved, and carry on doing all that you can.” I watched as his eyes changed from self-pity to determination, and he nodded his head once. Together, we turned and walked towards the barrier I had placed at the entrance of the cave and gazed up at the monster. 

“I will alter this ward so that you and others may enter, but not the—” I stopped as I realized I wasn’t certain what to call the enemy. I hadn’t even used [Analyze] on it. Regardless, my words shared my intent, and with a wave of my hand, the ward was altered. 

We waited together for just a moment or two, but when I saw the timing was right—and the monster was far enough away from the entrance—I took off in a flight up the canyon wall. Just in time to be hit with a field of necromantic energy stronger than I had ever felt before. My wards held; it wasn’t aimed at me. 

It did slow my flight, though, and I witnessed the effects far closer than I would have ever wanted to. The great monster squirmed like a dying worm, writhing in pain. Squelching and popping noises combine with loud hisses echoed through the canyons. The odor of death grew until it was all I could smell. Ethereal chains fell from the sky, piercing into the two dead heads on the sides of the beast. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the chains tightened and pulled at them, tearing them from the monsters. I continued to fly up, no longer conscious of my path but fixated solely on what was happening. The broken and featherless wings of the beast beat against the canyon walls with abandon, and the smaller heads futilely snapped at the chains.

I found myself floating a few steps above the top of the nearest plateau, with Crylus in my sight when it happened. His spell had the two heads half the distance between him and it, and the field of necromantic energy shattered. Holy energy flooded the canyons as a great bird made of light appeared over the Heroes. Shaelra had finished her spell.

Crylus fled, faster even than when he chased me. The chained heads followed, bouncing off the cliffs until they got over them. I couldn’t imagine what the backlash of a spell like that would be, but I was surprised he survived it. 

The hydra, though it still squirmed in pain, looked up at the new arrival with an angry hiss. I wasn’t certain if this was an avatar of Elora, or summoning a part of her, but it was stronger than the bull the Meathead rode. Perhaps, the bull had been stronger before I arrived, but I had no way of knowing. 

The two creatures crashed together in a flurry of claws and teeth; combat that seemed as feral as any I had witnessed before. Meathead’s bull still attacked, occasionally, but it was clear that whatever skill he used to summon it had reached its limit. 

I wasn’t one to stand by and watch, either. I flung fire and lightning at every opportunity. I could see the spells hurt it, but not nearly as much as either of the godly beings. Those spells weren’t my focus, though. I was waiting for Meathead to be far enough away that my greater spells wouldn’t hurt him. 

Mena’s statue was safe behind two wards, and the other heroes were safe behind the shielding spell tied to my artifact. I was at the appropriate distance above and away to call it down—a distance I had measured thoughtfully after striking down Loralie’s assassin. 

I was ready, almost eager to put the monster down. A vicious sneer on my lips, and a major spell at my fingertips. That was when the first gate opened.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 55

It was four days later, I found myself flying as fast as I could south. Heedless of clouds or wind, I hadn’t flown this fast before without being in a panic. Those fools, the Heroes, had departed without a word and left me behind. I wasn’t certain what they were thinking or why they had gone without me. Certainly, I had secluded myself in my laboratory while I checked on the newest threat from the Pestilence, but it was only for a few days to develop better spellwork!

The plateaus and canyons sped by as I fumed at their lack of judgment. In the distance, I could see a battle taking place already. This Hydra was larger and more grotesque than any I had seen before. Its normal heads easily rose over the nearest plateau, though the larger head that once belonged to the snake god rested in the center like the center of some ungodly flower. Enormous wings, barren of feathers, bleeding and broken, flopped uselessly at its sides.

As I grew closer, it looked like the parts of the blood god had merged with several hydra broodmothers to create something more disturbing than any of my failed experiments. On one side of the beast, atop a plateau, I spotted four of the Heroes underneath a magical shield.

Tond was shooting arrows, though they couldn’t pierce its thick scales. Leslie cast spells at it, empowered with some skill I didn’t recognize. Shalrea was kneeling in prayer, but I couldn’t discern to what end. The pyromancer, Diedre, was casting her silver flame spells, aiming for the eyes that looked their way. Heads snapped against their shielding, the force of which sent the entire plateau they were on shaking each time, but they ignored it.

They had been called the Heroes of Broken Collars when they returned to my tower. I had thought the title a little dramatic, but—as they stood together against this monster—I felt any reluctant doubts fade.

Yet, even the bravery of those four wasn’t what drew my eye. Rather, what drew my eye was Meathead, riding atop an enormous silver bull half the height of a plateau. A great creature that seemed to glow with holy energy. Perhaps a skill of his new class? It wasn’t as solid as the avatar of the blood god was when I saw it, not even close. Yet, the avatar of the blood god had also been summoned with human sacrifice. Likely many sacrifices.

I didn’t immediately join the battle. Instead, I watched to see if they even needed my help. Their timing and teamwork appeared better the closer I came. I was able to get a sense of their plan. Meathead would ride his bull, charging into the side of the beast, and then the other Heroes would attack to distract it so he could retreat and do it again.

I stopped in the sky above them and looked more. I didn’t expect to find Cothram, not without wasting precious time on detection spells that might not even work against his skills. Nor did I expect him to contribute much to the battle. Regardless of how enchanted his daggers might be, it would be no more than a small thorn to a monster this large.

What worried me was that I saw no sign of Mena at all. I expected her to be riding with Meathead or ready to defend the others should the magical shield break. Had she already fallen? Had this thing eaten her?!

I growled as I looked at it. Part of me wanted to strike now, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was helpless unless I wanted to risk the lives of the heroes as well. Lesser magics wouldn’t hurt a monster like this, and the spell I had crafted to fight it was so powerful that I doubted I could defend against it myself.

“I knew them once.” A voice spoke to my left, a tone both dignified and sorrowful. A voice I immediately recognized. He allowed his invisibility spell to fall and reveal exactly who I expected based on the voice. His clothing had been changed, not in material but style. He wore a robe, cut similarly to the one I had met him in. I don’t know if he met others in robes as well, but if he had, they wouldn’t be of the Tervan people.

I bowed my head in greeting, while carefully readying additional defensive wards. “Greetings, Crylus.”

Several yards away, floating in the air beside me, the vampiric gnome I had once fled from gazed almost longingly at the beast. He didn’t return my greetings, instead continuing to speak.

“We all served the first, then, and he, in turn, served the eternal raven. But he was an ambitious fool. I see that now. I had been entombed as punishment for my failings, and he sought to usurp the raven while I slept. Do you know, wizard?” The only 6thTier person I had ever met turned to look at me with clear eyes. Any evidence of his prior madness was gone. I didn’t take that to mean I was safe, of course. If anything, should he decide to attack, it would be a more hard-fought battle—one that I had no desire to partake in even if the circumstances differed.

“Know?” I prodded him. Talking was better than fighting, most certainly. Especially right now.

“That when one ascends to godhood they lose themselves? That a god is can only be what their worshippers believe they are?” He shook his head with a dismayed expression. “When I had seen my old master in his new form, I spoke to him. I desired knowledge—to know what happened while I slept. Yet, he could not answer. I do not desire a seat of power that robs me of who I am.”

I was befuddled by what he was discussing. There seemed an entire history here that I knew nothing about. Seat of power? Ascending to godhood? This whole conversation may be the most sacrilegious thing I had ever heard. I glanced about fearing the gods would strike me down just for hearing it.

Yet, no strike came, and the little man seemed content to float beside me in silence. Not that I was content as well. No, I—more than anything—was thinking about how I might contribute to the battle without distracting those fighting in it. Each passing breath was a chance that a mistake might be made that would cost a life. My desire, not necessarily for victory, but to protect these heroes grew.

I could easily reinforce the shielding so that whoever had cast it could focus on their attacks. I could ask Tond to withdraw them to a distance so I could cast a more powerful spell—though I wasn’t certain I wanted to be low on mana with Crylus so close by.

But perhaps… “Do you have any desire to avenge the death of your old master? To fight against the evil below us?”

Crylus tilted his head, in an almost unnatural way, as he considered it. “I could. Before my punishment, I would have already done so. Thousands of years in a coffin, [Wizard], is more than even an immortal should bear. I hold no more love for my master, even if he punished himself more than I ever could. From greatness to a snake. Fitting really.”

I waited as he spoke, wondering if perhaps he was simply lonely. I doubted goblins made the best conversational partners. I feel as though I had pitied him for that once before. Seeing him again, though, refreshed that impression.

“I do owe you a debt. I broke my word when we met, and it beleaguers me. I sometimes… forget who I was. Yet, I remember that honoring my word used to be important to me. I would aid your cause, but for a price. I seek to resolve the mistake between us.”

The ‘s’ sound of his last word carried longer on the wind, stretching out as if it carried more meaning somehow. Below, the hissing of the new horror seemed an ominous echo to his words. The sounds of battle echoed through the ravines, making it feel as though entire armies fought, rather than a select few.

I wasn’t certain of the implications of the bargain he sought. Was he simply asking me for forgiveness? To speak as if he hadn’t tried to enslave me for eternity? I was hesitant to answer him immediately. I found it difficult to believe that he might simply want to come by for wine and cheese. It seemed like a trap.

But it wasn’t something that I could consider for long. The shielding spell protecting the heroes was failing, cracks grew up its sides. The bull Meathead rode was growing more and more transparent. I wasn’t certain how long until whatever it was disappeared completely.

With a hidden reluctance and a foreboding feeling, I turned to look the ancient vampire in his eyes.

“I accept.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 54

It’s a contradiction, of course: wanting to hold someone you care for, but not wanting them to be in enough pain to need it. A conflict of emotions that I had never truly needed to deal with before now. It was a bittersweet twisting of emotions I felt when Lilly calmed enough and no longer cried on my shoulder.

Yet, that was part of yesterday’s problems. An unfinished part, to be certain. I had created a gateway to the Froom’s plane, and sat with Lilly as we watched the grim soldier march through in an orderly fashion. The royal attendants had prepared a meal fit for a king that the two of us sat, and though the conversation was sparse, I did speak some on how much of a mistake it would be for Lilly to attempt to charm Alred or his mage followers with her magic.

She was disinclined to even join those men, no longer feeling any desire to remain a queen. It wasn’t just her husband’s death, but the death of other soldiers under their command that had been a slow-killing poison to her ambition.

I hadn’t the heart to tell her that she was stuck with the decision. I did inform her that few, if any, could have accomplished the ascension into royalty she had and that she owed it to those who died to try.

I certainly wouldn’t be interested in taking such position if it were offered, though I did mention that if she truly sought to forgo her new title, Queen Eistoni would likely be a good person to discuss it with.

The transport of Lilly and her army had taken the remainder of the day and most of the night. I hadn’t been able to return to my tower until this morning, and was eager to check in on the parasitic mushrooms I had left in the canyon over the mountains. All the plateaus and armies and evacuations were distractions from the things I could do to halt or even reverse the Pestilence.

This is why I was perturbed at finding myself standing at the top of my tower amidst the Heroes of Broken Collars. I had just peeked in on the canyon a few moments ago and hadn’t even the opportunity to record my findings when it happened. A shrieking cry, like a bird dying, pierced through all the enchantments in my tower and caused me to spill an inkwell over the tome. Following that sound, there was a wave of holy magic that made me feel as though something had grabbed hold of every vein and artery in my body and squeezed before letting go.

It was too close in sensation to the effects I felt with the Mirtallean’s slave god fell for me to not recognize it. Somehow, that enormous snake in the Tervan jungles was dead. Just the remembrance of their blood god sent bumps across my skin and fear down my spine. I quickly cleaned the spilled ink, and traveled towards the top of my tower to see if there were any other effects.

[High Priestess] Shaelra was the first to find me, unsurprisingly, entering through the front door to the tower. She would be the person I imagined stood closest to the gods of all those nearby. We shared a look of concern, and she walked by my side as we climbed the stairs to the roof. In ones and two, the other heroes—as well as Kine and some of the higher ranking among my guards—joined us.

The view to the south was unlike anything I had ever seen, and for a moment I wished that Pyl was still here. I imagined that he would have forgone a leg to be present. The new height of my tower allowed us to see further, much further, than ever before and the southern skies were lit with unusual sights. Steams of grey and black flowed like rivers upwards into the clouds. Balls of deep red shot forth into the skies to pop and rain blood back down.

I could hear the wails of souls – a sound that any adventurer that ever fought a ghost or ghast would recognize—faintly in the distance. Yet, those wails weren’t singular, but a chorus of sound. One that left me fearful that if a single black stream were to flow this way instead of upwards, few would survive.

Considering the number of other questions I was receiving from 5th Tier adventurers, I was glad that it was only my elven ears that let me hear those screams.

“So, another god falls,” Leslie said, feigning her courage in front of the others.

“Boss, that looks much stronger than what happened for us,” Mena’s words were directed at me, the unspoken question clear to all.

“It is.” I nodded and refused more details. How was I to know what made one god stronger than another? A high priestess was standing right there!

“What kinda god was it?” Tond asked as he leaned out.

“The Tervan’s god, the blood god, takes—took—two forms. A two-headed snake during the day, and a bird during the evening,” I began. The habits from years of teaching at the Arcanum took over, and I went into detail. I hadn’t planned on giving a lecture, but I also hadn’t had a truly attentive group of students in a long time.

It was several hours later when both the questions and my patience had gone past the point where lunch would revive that I decided to leave. The fall of the blood god had large implications for me. I expected to see waves of Pestilence coming from the south now, and not just the east. The ones coming from holes under the earth were many, but nothing like the density I had seen in the canyon.

I turned to leave, but my way was blocked. Both Meathead and the [High Priestess] Shaelra stood in my way. Meathead looked about nervously, but Shaelra’s face was pale and distraught. Both seemed uncertain but utterly serious. Meathead was shifting his weight from foot to foot, his armor tinkling as he moved. The priestess’s mouth moved as if she were trying to form words that wouldn’t come out.

“Yes?” I asked, to which both spoke at once.

“First boss says—”

“[Wizard] Fargus, there is—”

Neither finished what they intended to say, as a loud hiss echoed from the south. Followed by another. And another. I spun around to look, though there wasn’t much to see. The streams of black still flowered into the sky, and the blood had long since stopped rising. The hisses, though, became an unholy chorus and I had to grit my teeth against the noise.

Around me, the guards fell to the ground clutching their heads. The heroes all showed pained expressions, some more than others. From my vantage point, I saw more than one villager collapse screaming to the ground. Animals across the plateau panicked. Even my gargoyles flapped their stone wings about as if they had been struck.

When the sound faded, no one spoke. Not for several long minutes. The horror that I felt, I was certain the others did as well. Meathead was first to break the silence.

“First boss says we should go south. Before it becomes a god, too.”

I glanced at Leslie and Mena, intending to give them a meaningful look. Yet both seemed to be in their own minds. Mena had a fist clenched and a look of spite on her face. Leslie’s expression was that of worried resolution.

“Elora shared a vision with me. That of a hydra god consuming the entire world. I—I think she wants us to go south as well.”

“This battle, it won’t be like the last.” Tond chimed in, his tone that of warning.

“Aye, there is no holy artifact to stab it with.” Cothram agreed—wait! Had he always been here?! I shook away the thought. Now wasn’t the time.

I spoke next, “I will send my elementals south to see what this thing looks like, and share it with you. It will be much easier to plan if we know what we are facing.”

“You—you will fight, too, Master?” Leslie’s surprised voice seemed to have slipped out. She looked a tad embarrassed by the question.

I pressed my lips together. I was confident in the new defenses I placed around my tower. Should a wave of Pestilence near, I could rain lightning down among the horde three or four times a day for as long as I wanted to. If a broodmother approached, I was more than certain my improved [Finger of the gods] spell could lay it low.

But some unholy Hydra ascending to godhood? Who knew what it would take to defend against such a thing? No, better to slay it far away from my new home and the villagers below. Or worse, it destroyed my library and all the research results I’d recorded over my life? I was so close to a longevity spell! No snake-headed thing was going to take that from me!

I’d die before—well, no. I could restart the research pretty easily, all things considered. I stroked my beard as I considered Leslie’s question more, but it appeared the Heroes lacked the patience to wait for an answer. They had already formed a circle without me, and were discussing what form it likely took and how to trap it. Ungrateful louts! I shook my head and headed down to my laboratory. I’d need to summon a few stronger wind elementals to see what this enemy looked like. I’d not have these fleeing before they served their purpose.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 53

Atop the pillar of stone I had created, with the wind whipping at our backs, I wrapped Lilly in a big hug. It was good to see her again, even if the circumstances were a little unusual. She brought me an army? Why? It made little sense, but now that I had found her there was no urgency for an immediate answer.

“Come child, let me get a look at you,” I smiled and held her back. She wore a thin dark green dress that seemed to be made of some kind of soft leafy fabric. Behind her, where she had just stood, the wolf companion lay curled, its eyes focused only on its master. I had thought it part of her gown when I first saw her—and I couldn’t help but have a smattering of fearful thoughts. Without hesitation, I cast [Analyze] on my adopted daughter.

Name: Lilly Sena

Species: Human

Classes: 4th Tier Natural Queen level 17

Sena?! She was already at the 4th Tier? A [Natural Queen]?! I felt bewildered by the information.

I knew nothing about the royal classes, as they were a more carefully guarded secret than even the mage ones. Information on Mage classes could possibly be obtained with sufficient monies or connections. Holding information on Royal classes was grounds for execution. Perhaps the Dukes and Duchess’s had it, though. It might be how Duchess Eiston rebelled.

The 4th Tier was surprising as well, but not so much as the change in her name. Sena. Lilly had not only married, but she had married the current King of the country. Knowing what I did about the Asrid Flower Tea, and how the last king comported himself, I immediately began to search for spells or skills to make sure that Lilly wasn’t under some strange form of slave or control magics.

Yet, what I found was more disturbing. There were vast amounts of charm and loyalty magic at play here, a subversive mixture of the two that was as insidious as it was powerful. But it didn’t come from the king at all. It came from Lilly. Through the use of some skill she had obtained, the small yellow flowers growing amidst the ivy on her wolf were throwing tiny specks of pollen into the air—specs smaller than I had seen even in dust.

That pollen was flowing all through the encampment, carried on the wind and the breathe of the soldiers. Once it landed, it then grew, much like the compounding effect of continuing to drink the tea. The difference was that it also grew into a complex charming rune—one that had the new king of Sena staring at my daughter with the eyes of some love-struck fool.

Despite the ostentatious velvet robe flapping in the wind, and the gleaming golden armor with elaborate etchings and inlaid gems, he seemed to disregard standing in a way befitting royalty. No, his shoulder hunched forward slightly, and his posture looked more like a commoner begging boon from a temple’s altar.

I quickly checked my own protections and wards, and bit back a sigh of relief when I found that the pollen couldn’t break them. The newest additions I had made to protect myself against Pyl had proven to block this as well.

“Dad, is there something the matter? Aren’t you happy?” Lilly asked with a tilt of her head.

The look in her eye was almost threatening, I felt. Though that might have just been because I had seen the extent of her new class in action. Even if that was only one skill—who knew if she had others? If she controlled the new king to this extent, I doubt there were many royal secrets she hadn’t uncovered. I used [Earth Manipulation] to form several stone benches from the ground and carefully answered, “Lilly, I just need to sit down for a moment. I’ve been flying about all day just to find you.”

“Oh! Before you sit down, there is something I want you to hear. Dearest?”

“My love?” the King answered.

“How did my brother die again?”

“My father, fearful of the mad wizard, sought to kill his apprentices to weaken him. While it was his decision to send your brother to the battle of Sandy Brook, I gave the order. All those that followed it have already been put to the noose, and I am filled with infinite sadness at my actions.” The prince said and bowed, even shedding tears. He looked as though he felt sad about it, but I couldn’t tell where his emotions began and where Lilly’s control took over.

I frowned at the king as he spoke, the truth of the matter uncovered like this was an ugly, ugly thing.

“You aren’t surprised,” Lilly whispered. “You knew…?”

“I suspected.”

“Suspected? Suspected!? Why didn’t you tell me?!” Lilly threw her hands into the air, and the pain was clear to see on her face.

“I had no proof.”

“I have made myself such a fool, such a fool. I went to Sena City with the dreams and hopes of a child and came away with my brother’s killer as my husband.”

The new king tried to speak with her, “My love, I—”

“Silence!  Just—just jump off a cliff.”

“At once.” Without any hesitation, the man dropped his spear—a thing that let a harmonious clang out as it hit the ground--and casually stepped off the side of the pillar. The king didn’t die from the fall, though his leg broke in what could only be a painful expression. His golden armor crumpled around it, piercing the skin in places and torn open in others. His cloak was caught on some parts and ripped open in others.

I looked in surprise at Lilly, as she covered her mouth in shock. It seemed that she hadn’t expected such obedience. The former first prince, though, stood up on one shaking leg and began to hobble forward. His broken leg trailed behind him, leaving a thick line of bright red blood in the dirt.

“My king!” A soldier reached for him.

“Your majesty!”A knight ran forward, his armor clanking with each step.

The newest King of Sena raised his hands in the air, and began shouting. It was clear by his voice that he was used to commanding. “My brothers! I have committed a grievance wrong and must atone. I ask out of your love for me and my queen that you allow me to do so! In my absence, I task unto you the duty of serving the Queen as you would me! Now, move aside.”

Those around him made space, a small but dense circle, the worry and concern apparent on their faces. Lilly knelt at the edge of the pillar and reached for him with one hand. Her other clasped at her heart. “…no…” she whispered.

A circle of soldiers formed around the king as he made his way forward to the edge of the plateau.

“No,” Lilly said again more firmly, and I had to grab her shoulder to keep her from tumbling down the pillar as well.

The plateau had grown quite high by now, and the prince hobbled ever closer to the edge.

“No. No. No.” Lilly shook her head. Then she shouted “No!”

Yet the wind atop of our pillar took away her words, and her husband stepped off the ledge to his death. As he fell, Lilly cried out in an agonized scream, and I held her tight against me. I held no love or loyalty for the prince. His fall, even as tragic as it was, meant little to me. Less so that even a stranger after he’d spoken of his part in Walker’s death.

My heart hurt, though, just imagining Lilly’s pain. I rarely find myself without words to say, but, at that moment, I could do nothing but hold my grieving daughter. From the wails and cries below, I could tell she wasn’t the only one who grieved.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 52

As the land the city rested on began to rise, I slowly floated over to the courtyard the spread from the gatehouse between the second and third rings. Along the battlements and towers, I could see cheers erupt from those fighting as the hydra began slipping and falling back. Soldiers and mages ran forward from the various buildings in the city to climb the walls and see what was occurring – or perhaps to make one last strike.

I didn’t float there for long, though, as I was certain the magic users in the city could feel the source of the spell raising it. They would arrive soon, and I hadn’t considered changing into pants. The courtyard had once been an epitome of cleanliness and style. The colored cobblestones had been a small map of the city itself, well-trimmed bushes and flowers had rested in raised planter beds at the hair edges, the gates had been of steel plated in silver, and the guards had worn finely polished enchanted armors. Banners for the various noble houses had been hung from the walls to either side of the gate. That was how I remembered it. 

Now, the cobblestone was more smeared muck than picture, many of those bushes had been burnt or chopped down. The banners were still present, but they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. The once fine silk, enchanted to be stronger than iron, now had algae or moss growing on top. I could see moths or butterflies nesting within. The guards at the guardhouse had tripled in number, and looked a bit cruder than the tight discipline I remembered. Several times I felt their eyes peeking out at me, but I ignored it.

It wasn’t long before the first of the mages arrived. A teacher from the Arcanum who had advanced to the 4th Tier class of [Hydrabane Magus]. As more and more entered the courtyard, I could see that she wasn’t the only one. As more arrived, they formed groups that chattered amongst themselves and hurled insults at one another. Some groups, such as those from various academies, I recognized. Others were completely unknown to me. 

When I felt that most mages had arrived, and one or two start to slip away due to impatience, I tapped the end of my staff on the ground and let loose an illusionary thunderclap. It was something that even a 2nd Tier mage would recognize, if they had a mentor. Not just a call to attention, but also a signal that meant the beginning of a lecture. 

“Attend me,” I called, letting a small spell spread my voice over the crowd. 

The meeting of the mages in Sena City didn’t go as well as I would have hoped. I had hoped that raising the plateau and saving them all from the ongoing battle against the Pestilence would have endeared some kind of reasonability amongst those present, but that was a hope dashed quickly. 

For the better part of the rest of the day, I watched them argue with each other over their various ideologies for the future. None of the instructors from the Arcanum, though they were present, were able to do more than support me with their own small faction. Alred’s recruitment of their former students positioned the academy poorly amongst the rest. It was only through the combined threats from myself, one of Alred’s gatekeepers, and the Baker’s Guild that I was able to piece together some semblance of a plan for the defense of the various plateaus and the rescue of dwarven clans.

Even worse, the various heads of the noble houses arrived in the afternoon to witness the true level of pettiness and bickering that we magic users were capable of reaching. I met the eyes of Duke Laxtoni once as we greeted each other, but I couldn’t meet them again afterward. It was a shameful event, to be sure, and one I held no patience for with the prospect of Lilly’s safety weighing on my mind. 

I think the biggest factor in securing their agreement was when the head of some minor baronial house asked me how much of the farmlands around Sena City had been saved. Of course, the answer was none of them. Those lands were chewed through by the Pestilence, and everyone standing in the square knew it. That the fear of starving to death outweighed any gratitude for saving them from being eaten themselves was disappointing, to say the least. 

It was late into the afternoon when I departed the meeting. I made certain that those present reached agreement on protecting the lands and offering refuge to any who called for it. Yet, when the conversation turned to a squabbling auction of plateaus, marriages, compensation, and trade agreements amongst those present, I couldn’t find the strength to will to remain. I’d done my part, and should anyone think they could claim the rights to my tower and lands I would see a definitive end to the matter. 

Ignoring any cries and pleas for assistance, I flew westward from the city in haste, stopping only once at the crumbling walls that marked the edge of the city to don a pair of pants. It was a tiny bit embarrassing to have forgotten to do so as I departed, and could only hope those present would not be inclined to discuss my oversight. The guards along the walls certainly avoided the topic.

The sun shone brightly as I flew, but it wasn’t a pleasant thing. The light revealed the masses of squirming hydra devouring the countryside below me. I scowled as I watched the uncountable numbers of the things gnashing at anything that wasn’t one of their own. 

When I had first seen the ocean of hydra in the canyon, I had known that it was an insurmountable foe. Had I known that those I saw were only the first of many to emerge from the depths under the world, there were many things I would have done differently. 

I also noticed that the further west I traveled, the less of them I saw. I wasn’t certain if it was because they were coming from the ocean or if the ground between the surface and underworld was thinner along the coast, but it gave me hope against the fear of finding the new king’s army shattered and hearing news of Lilly’s death. 

For a child that had only lived with me for but a handful of years, I found that I had grown attached to her. More than even Walker or Kine, her youthful and inquisitive mind had wormed its way into my heart, and I knew now that just as desperate as she had been to have a father, I had been as desperate to allow myself human contact. 

It was to the north of my tower, about halfway between it and Goldcastle that I found them. The great trees of the forest still stood in part, though I spotted the Pestilence chewing through wood and leaves like leeches on a great body. To the northwest, great spikes of death crystal rose above the horizon like the ribcage of some fallen beast. My tower was easily visible from the ground here, having been raised high up on a plateau. Sunlight reflected off moonstone in the center like a jewel at the top of a crown.

The army, though, wasn’t doing well. Three snapping [Lesser Hydra] and an [Armored Hydra] had surrounded it, and the soldiers and knights weren’t prepared to fight such monstrosities. I spotted Lilly, wearing a thick gown of dark green in the center, holding on to the arm of a man in shining golden armor that could only be the king. Spearman and archers tried to hold the beasts at bay, while mages' spells crashed into the bodies. 

As I watched, I realized I was wrong in my assessment. I had thought they weren’t doing well, but the army was holding its own. Ten thousand men formed an admirable force, and I could see the bodies of dead hydra along the path the army had traveled. The difficulty it faced now wasn’t the [Lesser Hydra] but the armored one. It crashed through walls of spearmen and ignored volleys of arrows in pursuit of a cavalry force that rode in circles around it. 

Again, I found myself with a tough decision. I could join the battle to fight the Pestilence with them, though I had no confidence they wouldn’t turn on me as soon as victory was in sight. I could raise a plateau underneath them to prevent more hydra from joining—hydra I could see coming, attracted to the noise. I could leave them to their fate, and pluck Lilly from their midst, saving her from whatever vile schemes the crown was using her for. I could… I stopped myself. 

Even if the army turned on me, even if they held Lilly hostage to my surrender, how could I allow so many men and women to die? Every tough choice I’d made in the past, treating lives as numbers, was something I’d heavily regretted. Others were better suited for such decisions than I. I had the power to save these people, and I would.

With careful aim, I cast a heavy bolt of lightning at the [Armored Hydra]. It wasn’t enough to kill it, but it would stun in for a while. Long enough for me to establish the borders for the plateau spell and raise the lands under the army. As soon as I finished casting the spell, pushing the speed of it higher than what might be safe for buildings, I returned my attention to the battle. 

The shaking ground didn’t do well for many, and the hydra took advantage of that to break through the ranks of fallen spearman. Their serpentine forms almost seemed gleeful at the sprawled forms beneath them. It made for an unusual image. when I cast my fire blades and the heads fell to the ground, their mouths open in some parody of a smile. The fire blades weren’t strong enough to slay the [Armored Hydra], but between it and the stunning lightning I had cast, it wasn’t doing well. 

Once the height of the plateau was raised enough that other hydra wouldn’t be able to reach, I slowed it so the shaking would stop. As soldiers and mages stood to their feet and saw one foe remaining, they began to attack so ferociously that I had to look away. I knew the anger one could hold against an enemy that killed a comrade. 

I saw Lilly and the king staring up at me as I floated above the army, though their expressions were indecipherable. I couldn’t hold back my smile at seeing the young lady, though I did consider my next step. If I flew low enough to speak with them, I could easily become a target or fall for some trap. I could raise a smaller pillar of stone with just Lilly, something high enough that I could whisk her away, but there was an entire army here not far from my tower. The geomancers in the mage corps would have no problems creating a ramp down. If they were had enough time, they might even create a bridge from this plateau to my own.

This close to my tower I would be able to pull on the reserves of mana from it. Even the king’s army wouldn’t be able to break my wards here, not without hammering at them for a day or more. I didn’t fear the army itself. Yet, what if they brought some ancient artifact? A weapon I had no defense against? I could see a spear resting against the king’s shoulder, something that looked speciously like one.  

I wouldn’t go into such a meeting unprepared. I covered myself with an illusion of… myself, and then cast an invisibility spell. In this way, I would be able to step aside from an attack and none would see me move—hopefully. I reached out with [Earth Manipulation], and raised the stone around Lilly and the King, lifting the pair the height of five men over their army. Should it be a trap and the army prepared to attack, I doubted they would risk their king being caught in the crossfire. 

I slowly lowered myself to the edge of the pillar and stepped down onto it. My flight spell was still ready, and another was prepared to be cast on Lilly so I could simply grab her hand and pull her away if needed. 

And despite all my preparations, I was unprepared for Lilly flinging herself from the King’s side to grasp me in a great hug.

“Daddy! I brought you an army!” 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 51

The tavern I left was in the center of the third ring, near the walls of the second, but neither the street nor the buildings nearby were left unmarked. The soldiery of different noble houses marched down the street with urgency, and the scent of death, blood, and magic hung heavy in the air. Injured soldiers and mages were being carried back from the wall that separated the third and fourth ring, and I could hear the shouts and screams of battle even from this side of the circle. 

It was a poor sign that there was fighting along the walls of the third ring. It meant that the fourth and fifth rings of Sena City were lost. The grim faces of those around me spoke of an expectation that it wouldn’t be long before the third ring was lost as well. I dropped the illusion of a commoner I had cast, and instead opted to cast an invisibility spell followed by a flight spell. I had come to Sena City to gather mages to help save dwarven clans, but without seeing the scope of the city’s predicament, it was unlikely I would be able to.

As I rose into the skies, my stomach turned in knots. The fourth and fifth rings weren’t lost to just any enemy. The Pestilence had arrived in full force, and those once tall and beautiful walls were now nothing but rubble. In more than one place, I saw where the [Field of Spikes] spells had been used to corral beasts in one direction or another to slow them. Streaks of blackened stone or toppled and smoking buildings spoke of flame spells unleashed.

The walls around the third ring weren’t doing well either. Hydras were throwing themselves against the stone or trying to chew their way through. Mages atop the walls slung spells at the horde, and archers fired arrows as quickly as they could draw their bow, but to little benefit. For each monster that fell, its body attracted ten more of the starving creatures that feasted on the remains. 

Alongside the mages and archers, warriors of all kinds – from adventurers to the retainers of nobility tried to fight off any that reached the top. The monsters slithered over, under, and around each other in a growing pile against the wall, and those that rose to the top of the pile and could reach over the battlements resulted in a savage melee that often did little good against the hydra’s regrowing heads.  

The one thing I didn’t see were the soldiers and mages of the kingdom. None of the royal colors showed on any of the fighters, and only a handful of city guards fought alongside those on the battlements. I doubted the entirety of the royal forces had fallen with the first ring and cast a dubious glance back towards Sena Castle. 

There, I could see a few royal guards standing watch on the turrets or before the entrance, but nowhere the numbers I expected. As I flew higher, I did get to witness something spectacular. Outside the walls of the third ring, standing about half the height of those walls—around that of a two-story building—were ten sand golems. Each one was fighting the hydra with the abandon that only a creature that didn’t feel pain could, and I stood amazed. 

The golems of that size and quality required a skill that I doubted even Alred possessed, and I could only surmise they must have been relics from the Age of Seafolk. It made sense, after a fashion. What better type of golem to fight seafolk with? They were beautiful creations, modeled after some heroes of old, and I immediately wanted to obtain one to research. A futile desire, in truth. While each one fought tirelessly against the swarm, the enemy was unending. What they lacked in killing power, though, they made up by keeping hydra away from the walls where they stood. 

My mind turned in consideration of what I needed to do. I could join the battle. While [Finger of the gods] might be more suited to killing a single powerful creature, [Heaven’s Descent] would be perfect for clearing away much of this horde—temporarily. No doubt the bodies of any dead monsters would only serve to attract more. 

And that was if I could adjust the spell to leave a circular hole in the center so that it didn’t strike the city’s defenders as well. I didn’t know that I had time to do that and trying an untested spell with so much at stake could easily lead to disaster.

No, better than joining the battle, I needed to raise the remainder of Sena City onto a plateau. A task made nearly impossible with the defensive wards woven into the castle. I resolved myself to the task though. If I needed to turn off the defensive wards myself, it would be better than letting those around me suffer. I could only hope that the new king, whoever he is, would be more reasonable than the last. 

I drew the king’s summons from my Magical Bag and flew towards the front gates with no lack of uncertainty. 

In the throne room, I met with yet another surprise. The Grandmother Regent was a stern woman with heavy wrinkles to accent her dour expression. Grandmother of the current king, mother of the last, Queen Regent Sobina sat on the throne with the seriousness one would expect of a person in her position. 

I was once again on a walkway made of pearls, and surrounded by the sycophants of the court, those much less in number now than before. Guards lined the hall, though they were fewer as well.

“Now you arrive, [Wizard]?!” She asked incredulously with a sharp barked laugh. Her frilly royal gown shook with her movement.

Still in a deep, respectful bow, I answered as calmly as I could, “I have been otherwise occupied, and regret the delay.”

“Arise.”

I stood, and let the woman take me in. Her sharp eyes not dulled with her age traveled from my face, to my staff, and then to the feather accenting my robe. “I remember you from when I was but a child, you know? A hero of the kingdom who established a magic academy. An orphan who rose through the ranks. Oh, how Count Debrail hated your name after his son’s academy failed to outshine you.”

I said nothing as she seemed to look back in memory. The Debrails had been a noble house sixty years ago before the name was lost to marriage. Ginoths now, if I remember right. Still, it didn’t surprise me at all that some count I had never met had disliked me. I wasn’t the most likable person at the time.

“You know my son has named you outlaw? That your life has a bounty?”

I raised an eyebrow and acted surprised. “Truly? For what reason?”

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and a bitter face. “It doesn’t matter now. Our treasuries are empty. Our library pilfered. Our vaults were plundered by my grandchildren as they fled the city like rats from a burning barn. My own family left me here to die. Powerless beyond a few guards and not the gold to pay them with. Why they haven’t turned on me to rob what little remains allude me.”

The guard to her left stiffened and dropped to a knee. A woman’s voice spoke from beneath a polished helm. “Grandmother Regent, our loyalty cannot be bought!”

Calls from the other court officials in the audience echoed the thought, though some less adamant than others. The woman pounded her hand on the rail of the throne she sat, until the voices fell away. 

“Enough, enough! Your king has run off with the army and the royal knights and the city guards because his eyes only see that twit of a girl. I wouldn’t blame any one of you should you turn your backs on us.”

I glanced around quickly, but returned my attention to the royal grandmother. “Your—”

She spoke over me before I could finish, “Our country is at an end, and you have come before the throne warning us of such before. My son was a fool to ignore your words, certainly, but what can change the past? No, you are here for more than to belatedly answer his summons. You want something from me, but I fear I have nothing left to give. A pardon? What good is that if there is no kingdom left? No. You are here to either witness an end to this dynasty or offer to save it at a price I doubt we could afford to pay. Our souls maybe? Ha! I doubt mine is any less wrinkled than I am.” She shook her head and then sighed. “Tell us, [Wizard], what is the price you ask?”

It was a few hours later that I floated above the center of the castle and watched as the wards protecting it fell one by one. Some remained, old enchantments carved into the stones themselves, but I didn’t need to bother with those. It was the largest wards, the ones meant to stave off attacks from the sea gods themselves, that I needed disabled. The movement of stone underneath the city wouldn’t affect those small enchantments. 

Little adjustments needed to be made to the Plateau spell, the circular shape of the city making it easy to cast. A few of the hydra may be caught and lifted as well, but I had to trust the defenders to rally when they saw themselves being lifted away from the bulk of the horde. 

The negotiation with the Grandmother Regent still echoed in my mind, and my hand stroked the Magical Bag now filled with a walkway’s worth of pearls. Her suspicious nature made it so that any talk of moving mages away from the city was unlikely to take place until the city itself was safe. This made it so that I had to be creative in what I asked for as payment. Asking for no payment would have been an offer she would see as too good to be true, and too much would have seen as—well, even now I wasn’t certain that all the ancient weapons of House Sena had been lost. I wouldn’t put it past the wily woman to have something prepared if she suspected betrayal.

What irked me most about the entire conversation was how she welcomed me to the family at the end of it. How was I to know that the new King Sena was to wed Princess Lilly of the Quad Isles? I knew immediately of whom they spoke, and it set my mind to racing. I was pushing myself to finish here so that I could race along to find the King’s Army. I hadn’t seen my surrogate daughter, and I worried what games the royal family might be playing with the young lady. I had lost too many too recently to allow them to toy with my adopted daughter.

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.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 49

Another week had come and gone as I struggled to understand Pyl’s decision. It was almost a suicide, in a way, the trading of his soul for the king’s. Pyl had left a bundle of tombs and scrolls that contained his various spells and research on a table in my library, one of which was a fairly emotionless farewell missive. Another was a journal, though he hadn’t written in it consistently. The dates of his entries jumped sometimes weeks or months. A whole year in one case.

It hadn’t taken long, though, to understand what he had done. Once I read through his research, I could understand the new spellforms and enchanted that trapped the king’s spirit easily. Understanding what he had done wasn’t anywhere as difficult as understanding why he had done it. I would have been more than willing to help him research spells or enchantments that could maintain his undead form in a way that could undo any unpleasantness that arose. 

The working did give me new insights into the connections between spirit and a living body – something critical that I had overlooked in my own research into immortality. Well, overlooked wasn’t accurate. It would be better to describe my lack of research in the area as avoidance. The realms of spirits seemed the responsibility of the gods, and I had cautiously stayed my hands from delving too far into research that could encroach on their territory.

That didn’t mean that I wouldn’t now. In fact, with the gods distracted with the coming end of the age, now seemed the opportune moment to conduct illicit research. The only thing halting me was the new arrivals to my plateau. Nearly twelve thousand dwarven refugees, most at the 4th or 5th Tier, had been found fleeing the growing swarms of hydra by the Heroes and escorted to my plateau. 

Yesterday had been an agonizingly long time spent attempting to negotiate with them, as they crowded the village and lands around my tower in a haphazard fashion. We didn’t have supplies to keep them fed, and the merchants from Froom’s plane had been unwilling to budge on the ridiculous costs asked for what little they were willing to provide.  Alred had to be contacted at the other end of the negotiation to place pressure on them just to begin the trade itself. The diplomatic and trade talks had been so agonizing, that yesterday evening I had retreated to have wine and a bath simply to keep myself from blasting them all. 

Still, this morning I was more prepared for the matter. Yesterday it had been a surprise and an annoyance. It felt sometimes like the world itself was working to keep me from my research. Today, I was better mentally prepared to hold an audience, I had already met the four clan heads of the dwarven refugees to know who I was dealing with, and I was confident that I understood what they wanted. I also was dressed appropriately for such a meeting, in a fine scarlet robe with a yellow sash. 

The clothing wouldn’t make much of a difference to them, I was certain, but I would feel more comfortable knowing that I was dressed correctly for the occasion. 

With confident steps, I entered my first floor and stood next to the high-back stone chair I had crafted for the curving table. The morning light was just now touching through the amethyst walls behind me, and the shine lit across the engravings in the room with sparkling grandeur. I nodded once to Fentworth to signal my preparedness, and he responded by opening the door to allow the clan heads entry.

Four dwarves, each with heads that came to my shoulders and bodies twice as thickly made walked into the room with a dignified grace that belittled that of any of my previous guests. Yesterday, they had been clad in armor, with weapons near ready and tangled heads of hair. 

Today saw them in a different light, with elaborate ceremonial robes, oil-slicked and braided hair, and each holding the instrument of their clan’s specialization. A small silver pick, a helmet of mithril, a golden trowel, and gem-crusted boot, each sized to comfortably fit in their right hands and held the items at their midriff. I glanced at each to see if they were enchanted, but was disappointed to find they were simply mundane ornamentation. 

“Presenting the heads of the Clans Firedrinker, Dimhair, Coughing, and Clubfoot,” announced Fentworth after they had all entered. Three female dwarves at the 5th Tier and one at the 4th clicked their heels together in what was their equivalent to a bow. 

I had spent enough time around Ram to recognize the gesture and returned it. I gestured to the stools across from me as I sat, “Please have a seat.” 

In silence, they walked with measured steps to the stools and sat across from me, though the male dwarf, head of the Clubfoot Clan, waited for the other three to sit first before he did.

Yesterday, these same four had been ferociously loud and obnoxious when negotiating with the merchants, and I half expected this to turn into something similar. Their current decorum was entirely unexpected but very much appreciated. 

I glanced at each, noting that the fourth was doing everything he could to subtly downplay his presence while the other three ignored him, before I spoke. “While the circumstances are unfortunate, I am pleased to meet you. I had a dwarven friend once who I lost not even five years past. While I do know some dwarven customs, our relationship had always been informal. I ask that if there are any slights against your traditions that you excuse them as ignorance and I will offer the same.”

The three women nodded their agreement but didn’t speak. I blinked at that, but assumed that the silence fell within the realm of dwarven customs I had just mentioned and waited. I didn’t have to wait long, soon the four ceremonial pieces were placed atop the table and then slid to the left. There, the clan head was an older dwarven woman that seemed to give off a presence of strength and humility. Her grey hairs were braided into several tight buns that resembled stacked rocks around her head, and her eyes held a keen intelligence. She only spoke once all the ornaments were placed in front of her.

“We have come to you seeking asylum, Head Fargus. That your first words are of friendship and wisdom speak well for you. We have little to offer, and much to ask.”

Her words were spoken slowly as if each word were carefully considered, and I bit back a sigh at that. I had hoped to do other things this day, but if this were the speed at which the conversation would occur, I worried that it might take several days. 

I considered the matter as the dwarves seemed content to wait for my reply in silence. “I am very much interested in discussing this with you. But… perhaps we could speak more informally?” 

It seemed that all four released a collective breath all at the same time. Two even allowed themselves a smile. Their chosen leader, as I was assuming that was what the placement of ornaments meant, chuckled. 

“Aye. I think we can do that.”

Several hours later, I saw the four clan heads depart with a satisfied smile. While the meeting had lasted longer than I would have preferred, it was still shorter than I had feared. Four clans, each wanted to live inside mountains. I had mentioned that once the pestilence had swept through the southern parts of the western mountains, they wouldn’t likely return. And if the clans were safely ensconced inside those mountains, there was little likelihood of them being found. 

I was thankful for that. Constructing their new homes would be easy enough with [Earth Manipulation], a spell that their mages were already familiar with. They carried dried mushrooms and the spores needed to grow more, so food was only a difficulty for the week or two it would take to get them to their new homes. The biggest barrier in their minds was transportation, a barrier resolved by traveling through the planar gates. 

It did mean that I would need to send some mages to those mountains to create gateways, mages that needed the [Earth Manipulation] spell to create a room inside the mountain to arrive at. Finding those mages was easy enough, once I delegated the task to my potential assistant [Magus] Nichols. In my mind, this was something that could be accomplished within a week’s time if all things go as they should. 

It was their last request that troubled me. They weren’t the only clans out there. Many had already been lost to the Pestilence, and many more were likely to surface. They begged for my aide with these clans as well, though we could all see that the swarm of hydras was quickly approaching. I wasn’t certain how to meet this request without having a few mages on each plateau to watch for them, and I didn’t have the forces available to me for that. Not at my tower. 

I might be able to sway the remaining students and masters at the Arcanum of Elementalis to serve, but that would mean returning to Sena City. 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 48

“Nemon, I apologize for lying,” Pyl’s voice echoed across his laboratory—a room that had seen significant changes since my last visit. 

“Oh?” I had arrived as Pyl was overlooking several open scrolls on the table, and patiently waited for his attention by trying to figure out the purpose of his new design. What had once been a sloppy mess of spare bones and death crystals, then an organized laboratory had now become a ritual chamber had left me stunned. The bare stone walls had been covered in a pale white that looked to be solidified bone dust. Death crystal glowed inside the etched runes and spell circles along the walls and ceiling. At the very center of the spell circle in the ceiling hung an enormous death crystal in the shape of a tear.

No longer were their shelves of scrolls or tomes, bins of bones and other body parts, nor mounds of death crystals. The only furniture in the room was a smooth, ivory table and a matching highback chair. If I didn’t include the undead knights that Pyl had animated to serve as guardians stationed around the room like statues.

“When I said I no longer feel emotions, that wasn’t the truth. I have a hunger and a hatred now. As if all living things are an affront to who I am. With each passing day, it grows greater.”

I didn’t say anything to that. What could I say? I had no notion of what that truly meant or what he faced. I did, however, immediately check the new wards I had placed to protect myself from the smoke he exuded when unmasked and felt relieved they were still in place. An act that made me frown with an uncomfortable realization. I feared Pyl. 

Pyl said nothing, still not having turned towards me since my entrance. I watched as his fingers slowly traced along a line of writing in the scroll he read, carefully considering my words. Should I encourage him to fight the hunger he mentioned? Should I admonish him for it? I knew nothing of his new body. Was this a side effect of his new form? It seemed likely.

The mirror along the wall, the one that allowed us to look into the Plane of Death began to glow, and Pyl stood straight. 

“I hoped to surprise you with a gift, but perhaps it is better that you are here. The… thing… at the center of the Plane of Death is something I have no name for. As ancient as the oldest gods. Yet it can speak. It can bargain.”

A chill went down my spine as his words came out. For all he claimed hatred towards the living, the way he said the word “thing” made his thoughts clear. Yet, the scariest word to me was the word bargain. What deal had Pyl made with some archaic power? I had just sent Leslie and the others away. Without them, I couldn’t think of anything that could contend with Pyl as he was now. Maybe my elemental if Pyl simply didn’t fly over it and lay it low from afar. 

“Tell me more,” My words were softly spoken, barely more than a whisper. If he planned to kill me, perhaps I could distract him long enough to—

“There is no time, master Nemon. Before I go, I wanted you to know that without you I don’t know what I would have become. I can see myself slowly turning into a monster. A thing of death, and I don’t want that. I want to be remembered for who I was and not what I have become.”

The mirror shone brighter, and an image began to appear on it. I could barely make out the form of something repulsive and indescribable before the light grew too bright for me to see. I covered my eyes with a hand, trying to make out what was there, but it wasn’t enough. Instead, I had to place my entire arm before my eyes and turned away. It had become so bright, it felt like it pierced my skull.

I could hear Pyl speaking now, though I couldn’t hear who he was speaking to. “I am ready. Just as we have agreed. A soul for a soul and the window shall be destroyed.”

What followed next was the tortured scream, so painfully loud that I could barely hear my own thoughts. The scream rose, not in volume but in height as whatever was making it moved towards the death crystal in the ceiling. Wind, a stale and bitter tint flowed around the room, flopping the two scrolls onto the floor and tugging at my robes.

Then, the light was gone. It didn’t fade away, or grow brighter, it simply disappeared. I blinked in the darkness, trying to make sense of what just happened. With one hand, I cast a small light spell along the wall, something to see by, but it did little. My head ached, and there were spots in my vision making it hard to see. I didn’t need to see to cast more defensive wards, though, and that’s what I did. Barrier after barrier sprung up around me, yet nothing happened for a long time.

“Pyl?” I called out into the darkened room, even as I rubbed at my teary eyes. There was no answer, only my own voice echoing back to me. It irked me that I was crying, not over pain or sadness, but because of a bright light. I resolved myself to wait in the room until I could be sure my face held no evidence of this.

“Pyl?” I called again, waiting in silence. It was long moments I stood there until my vision came back. The circle of light from the mirror seemed to be ever-present no matter which way my head turned, but I recognized this. Some blinding spells caused it afterward, and a simple healing potion was the solution. 

When my head no longer hurt and my eyes were fine, I saw Pyl’s robes, gloves, and mask laying haphazardly on the floor. The wall that held the mirror now showed an empty space of stone, which was odd given the white and black walls of the room. I reached down to pick up the scrolls that had flown about, but they crumbled to dust in my hands. 

I still wasn’t certain what Pyl had done, nor what I had witnessed. As advanced in necromancy as he’d become, it would take me months to decode the intricacies of the spellforms on the walls. I gathered up his clothing and placed them into my Magical Bag, holding on to them should Pyl be found elsewhere in the tower. I ran my hand over the table, feeling the smooth, gleaming ivory beneath my fingertips. It was excellently made, and not even the grooves of bones remained. 

Finally, with nothing more to do here, I resolved myself to look for Pyl elsewhere. Perhaps he was hiding in the crypt under the lake. I wouldn’t put it past Alred to bring another of my assistants in on a wizard’s trick if he had the chance. That seemed like something he would do. I nodded to myself. Delegating wizard tricks is something I should look into.

It was as I turned to leave, I found someone standing behind me. A ghost and not like the vengeful spirits of a dungeon, but the full figure of man, though I could see through him like cloudy waters. Not just any other man, but one that I recognized. The clothing, the stature, the face--all the same. 

“King Sena?”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 47

“Leslie, that is not a concern of yours,” I shook my head, though I don’t think she was listening to me. 

“Master—Nemon—I just want to know what you plan to do with her,” my former assistant whined. 

Her eyes were locked on Rhaela the Red, the spy who was currently sitting on the bed in her cell pretending not to hear the conversation. Leslie stood between her and me so I could only see the back of my former apprentice’s head. 

Another cell nearby held still held the messenger, who wasn’t handling captivity nearly as well. The man had already tried to break out by chipping away at the stone floor with a wooden leg from his bed—a plan that got him nothing but splinters and a lop-sided sleep. He was currently red-faced and screaming at us—not that we could hear after I placed a silence spell around him.

I sighed, maybe a bit dramatically. It wasn’t that I couldn’t answer her, it was that it had nothing to do with my experiments, those being the preface that she used to enter my lab and ask an inordinate number of questions these last three days. In the past, she hadn’t been one to find extermination interesting, but I had hoped her new tier level would make her more curious about the boundaries of known magic. Little did I know, that most of her questions revolved around she should carry herself now that she was a high Tier magic-user. 

“I didn’t know her well, but I have heard she has done good work for you. And Kine cares for her. Isn’t that enough to grant some mercy?” she bleated, regardless of my prior response.

“I will answer this question once, and it will be your last question that does not involve furthering your mastery over magic. You are no longer my apprentice, so you should understand your presence in my laboratory is a courtesy that will not continue. One that most other mages would find offense even to inquire about. Is that understood?” I pinned the woman with a stare that I used on unruly students when I was a teacher and watched her squirm uncomfortably. 

She straightened the arm of her new blue and gold robe nervously before answering. “Yes, master.”

I hmphed at her, but I had laid the groundwork for kicking her out of the room should she not adhere. I straightened my back and adopted an educator’s tone, “She has betrayed me and harmed those who lived here, but I don’t believe she intentionally would have allowed any action that would result in the deaths of Loralie or Pyl. This betrayal should have consequences she should atone for. Yet.” I paused and smacked my lips once before forming a sterner impression, “She had betrayed Alderman Kine more so than any other. And I will leave her fate to him to decide.”

Leslie was silent for a moment, and I took that as her understanding. I turned back to my worktable to look at an artifact looted from the Mirtallean wizard’s tower, a chunk of red stone I hadn’t seen before that gave off heat and flames without burning away. I would have assumed it a piece of the Plane of Fire, had I now seen that planes were constructed atop a base of the same type of crystal used to summon elementals. This was the second of three artifacts they had brought to me for investigation. The first was a living human eye that blinked and moved, for all that there was no body attached to it. The third was a holy artifact I refused to touch or near me.

I felt I was close to understanding it. Unlike the eye, which had an intricate and powerful spellwork I had never seen before crafted onto it, this one had no spells I could detect at all. Which made it solely a material. My [Analysis] spell, even with the increased utility from my tower crystal, only returned [Eternal Coal] when cast. My current hypothesises were that it was a chunk of dragon detritus or a spiritual mineral taken from the plane of some god; maybe even a—

My line of thought was broken as she asked one more question, “Master Nemon, does Kine know that?”

I huffed and turned back around. “He would if he asked me! And no, you may not tell him. I warned you about touching the parasitic mushrooms, didn’t I? And how many times did you touch them and require my help to purge it?”

Leslie looked down at her feet, her curly black hair partially covering her face. She looked more like a girl her age in that moment than the 5th Tier mage she was, “Twice, Master.”

“And the jar of pollen I had saved from the monsterized Asrid Flowers, how long were you under its sway?”

“Half a day, master.” 

“And my elemental air squirrels?”

“I couldn’t know that trying to pet one would free them!” She answered, frustration leaking into her voice.

I stroked my beard as I waited for her to calm herself and meet my eyes. When she did, I spoke with a caring but firm voice. “Young lady, you have grown powerful in your success. Moreso than any of your peers. That is a talent to be proud of, and I certainly am proud of you. Yet hear me now. Just like I warned you not to touch those things, do not discuss this with Kine or anyone else. Kine needs the time to calm his emotions lest he makes a judgment he would regret. When he had calmed, he will inquire. Let Miss Rhaela’s fate free from your mind.”

“Yes master—yes, Nemon.”

I eyed her for a second or two more to make sure she wouldn’t roll her eyes or give another sign that she wasn’t going to follow my direction, and then I turned back to the table. “Come, look at what I have learned, and share with me your thoughts.”

“But that—that is boring. I don’t understand how you can spend all day here.”

Without looking back at her I nodded, “Yes, I suppose it might be boring after three days. Perhaps you and the other heroes might be up for slaying some of the Pestilence nearby? Searching for survivors that are fleeing from the monsters?”

“I could see,” She answered thoughtfully, before voicing perhaps the worst idea I ever heard. “We could also see about the snake god. We slew one god already.”

“No. Absolutely not. That foe is beyond you and your comrades.” I answered her with more force than I intended, and she looked surprised at my response. I tried to soften the blow, “I don’t mean that you aren’t strong, you are among the strongest—”

“No. I understand.” She turned away so I couldn’t see her expression and began walking towards the exit as she muttered to herself. “I’ll ask the others about hunting hydra. I know Mena and Tond would agree. And if Tond agrees, so will…” 

I watched her leave, concern in my eyes. I spared a glance towards Rhaela after she left, but the woman was sitting on her bet lost in her own thoughts after overhearing us. In truth, as angry as I was about the assassin she let in, I could see she harbored more guilt and shame over it than any punishment I could imagine. As fellow magic users at the edges of the hinterlands, Loralie had been her friend long before I met either. I doubted I felt any worse over the loss than she did herself. 

That evening, I bid farewell to the heroes. It was just after dinner and they were off to a new quest to slay hydras and bring me back hearts, eyes, and blood. The scales were useless to me as reagents, but they were also on the list now that copper and leather were more difficult to obtain.  According to Eni, the only smith in the village could partner with a tanner to create a set of armor from the hides of the monsters, and I wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea. Especially so if the monsters' magical defenses could be something transferred over in the armor. 

I was eating the last bit of my dinner, fried flame boar pieces and vegetables, when occurred to me that while Tond had a class title that included leadership, Leslie was the actual leader of the group. It was an odd sort of leadership, as well, given how Leslie seemed to run her ideas through Mena before presenting them to the group. Perhaps Tond was given command in battle? I shook my head at the thought before biting and realized my error immediately. 

I had picked out the pieces of carrots from the meal and set them aside on my plate, but I missed one. I could help but sputter it back onto the dish like an uncivilized lout. I would need to have words with the cook again, it seemed. 

I was rising to do just that when Fentworth entered holding a missive. He spared a single glance at the mess on my plate, and tactfully held back his judgment. “My lord, a missive from Lord Froom, for you.”

I watched the man with an even gaze before accepting the scroll. He had a dry sense of humor that made it so I wouldn’t put it past him to choose a specific moment to give it to me. Not that he would hold a missive overlong, especially given our current circumstances. Still, it seemed like a very coincidental timing considering the words I had in mind for the cook. 

“Thank you Fentworth,” I said with a tight smile. 

He bowed slightly in response and went off to handle other duties. I suspected they had to do with using my bath when I was otherwise occupied, but I wouldn’t begrudge anyone a desire for cleanliness. I tapped the missive on the table as I considered that thought a little more carefully. I hadn’t seen a single bathhouse in the village during the ceremony. Not that I had toured the entire village, but I would think a building that large would be apparent. 

“Mister Fentworth?” I called out towards the staircase, loud enough I knew he could hear me. It wasn’t long before he returned, only twenty-four taps of the missive against the table. 

“My lord?” he asked once he reached the base of the stairs.

“Is there a bathhouse in the village?” I asked with all the innocence I could muster. 

With a straight face, he tilted his head in thought before shaking it. “I don’t believe so, my lord.”

“Hmm. Be a good man, and send one of the runners to Kine with the idea, will you?” 

“Certainly,” he answered with a small bow and stepped out the front door. 

Now, I wasn’t certain he was using my bath, and it did have a significant amount of cleaning spells enchanted into it so that it wouldn’t matter. Yet, I still watched him carefully as he went about the duty to see if there were any signs of it before turning my attention to the scroll.

I dispelled the wizard trick, a minor illusion that would make it appear as though my nipples roamed my body at random times, and carefully inspected every inch of the scroll for other hidden tricks before opening it. Having only a single, obvious trick was almost a trick in of itself, as Alred would know I suspected more. My former apprentice was likely giggling to himself at the thought of me spending hours looking for a second trick that wasn’t there.

The missive itself was simple enough. He granted [Magus] Nichols leeway to depart his service for mine should she choose, and offered a commendation for the work she performed so far. He also detailed how the efforts to create gateways in the fallen Mirktal kingdom and the more northern country of Furing were doing. 

His assistant Skelt was heading the efforts there and had recruited my three assistances to further the effort. They had been more than helpful with raising plateaus. Froom’s mages wouldn’t have been half as complete with their tasks now without the aid of my assistants. Without the magical items needed to fly, having companion bonded wyverns to ride made them able to travel to the furthest reaches of each country. Only the capital of Furing remained untouched at the present, as fighting hydra seemed to have replaced the normal gladiatorial death matches the men there needed to win to be allowed to mate.

I still had trouble fathoming how that country could function, especially without any centralized institution of learning for magical classes, but politics wasn’t my strongest suit, to begin with. Still, Froom's response regarding Miss Nichols was more than enough to improve my mood after the dreadful carrot fiasco, and I hummed to myself as I walked the missive upstairs and laid in on the very top of the stacks of maps with a small enchantment to make it glow. 

That should be more than enough to attract her attention when she returned to her duties in the morning, and I wanted to check in on Pyl. He had been diligently working duties to let travelers enter and leave the plateau during the day, and retreated to Loralie’s tower during the evening. I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing there, but given his previous lack of diligence regarding safety wards and his reports of lack of emotions, I wanted to ensure that someone was taking their time to speak with him on a regular basis.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 46

As plans go, I was especially proud of this one. While the children had certainly crafted that horrendous hat as a gift to me, a whispered discussion with Kine had concluded that for all practical purposes, it was [High Priestess] Shaelra that had led them to their new homes and cared for them along the way. She certainly warranted it more than I did—in fact, I was pretty confident that I was only a surrogate recipient because she was off on her quest. 

That being said, I forwent giving my prepared artifacts to the heroes in favor of a much-needed rest while Kine set about seeing what those children thought of the idea. When I awoke, I was felt refreshed. After a quick cleaning spell, I dressed in a fine robe of green silk with white suns embroidered into the sleeves and a matching white hat. I was so satisfied that when I opened the door to find my seneschal Fentworth awaiting me I was humming a tune to a song long lost.

“My lord,” he greeted with a quick bow.

“My good man, what can I do for you?” I answered with a smile.

“The villagers are gathering in preparation of the ceremony, and Alderman Kine estimates it will be only an hour or so until they are ready.”

“By Elora’s Light, that is great to hear!” I answered and clapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me questioningly and I realized it might be a bit unusual to act with such forthright joy. I coughed into my hand and schooled my face into a more neutral manner, even if I couldn’t keep the smile from my eyes.

“Come then! Let us find something to snack on until the time is ready. Unless you have other duties to attend?” 

“You decide my duties, my lord.” He answered with dry humor, but I was already several steps down the stairwell.

“Yes, yes,” I answered as I kept walking. The song I was humming became a whistled tune.

After a quick snack of griddle bread and a chat with Fentworth where I approved stocking up on supplies and sundries that might be limited in the aftermath of the evacuation, we walked outside and down to the central part of the village.

As we walked, I took in the village. It had expanded greatly under Kine and Rhaela’s influence, despite her subversive allegiance, and many of the buildings stood two stories tall. Kine had kept to the circular pattern for the layout, and there were only a few services left to fill before it became a full-fledged town. The population was already viable for a township, and only needed the approval of a noble—I paused and considered that I had just been promoted to a position of authority under the self-appointed Queen Eistoni. 

I could very well declare it a town. Doing so, however, would be a use of the granted authority and a signal that I was in support of her rebellion. Not that I expected the Kingdom of Sena to view me as a loyalist considering how the last king had spoken of me. More than that, I wondered what would happen if I declared the village a town without reference to any grant of authority. Would it be recognized? Who would object? Baroness Lark? 

I shook my head of the thoughts as I approached the crowd. The villages were gathered and excited, with many of the festivities from yesterday still ongoing. Meats roasted over open flames. Froom’s mages tossed funny illusions at the children and other kinds of illusions at the adults. My not-yet assistant [Magus] Nichols joined to follow me, her having waited just beyond the crowd. A crowd which parted at my arrival to allow us to walk towards the freshly made stage.

Kine stood at the forefront of the stage, happily nodding along to an animated villager who may have had too much wine, while the heroes congregated in twos or threes and talked amongst themselves. Yet, my arrival had drawn all their attention, and soon the crowd fell into silent anticipation. Only the squeals of the youngest children and babes in mothers’ arms hung in the air. I pulled back my defensive wards so as not to unintentionally harm those around me as we walked through, and found myself looking forward to this ceremony. Even the crowd couldn’t dull my feelings, and I nodded or smiled widely at those I passed. 

As I took the stage, Kine offered me a low bow and a loud greeting, one I matched with my own shallower bow and followed with a wave towards the crowd. My seneschal Fentworth and [Magus] Nichols stood at the bottom of the stage, and simply watched from there.

Kine raised his hands and used a minor wind spell to project his voice, “Residents new and old, honored tradesmen visiting from afar, master mages working diligently to save our kind, I am honored to present to you the lord [Wizard] Nemon Fargus and the Heroes of Broken Collars!” 

The crowd cheered loudly in response, and I saw more than one babe tossed into the air and caught. I took a few more steps to stand beside Kine and turn my body so that I could see Leslie and the others as they lined up behind me. I was a small bit annoyed that they were willing to present themselves so cordially here, but had been so informal at their feast, but I didn’t let that show on my face. 

Kine continued, “Some of them you know well, and others are new faces, but each one played a valuable part in the quest to stop the evil slaver god from visiting this world and chaining us all. I will now ask them to step forward when I recall their names and feats.”

What followed his words was a long ceremony where he would call a name and tell several tales regarding things they had done over the course of their adventure. How he recalled it all in such a manner was beyond me, but he must either have prepared all night long or had another mage with his speech reading it off to him via wind magic. Knowing my former apprentice, it could easily be both. 

After an hour and a half or more, the sun was beginning to set and my face was feeling tight at having held my smile for so long. It was something that I‘d done before, yet it had been a while and I had forgotten how taxing it was. Plus, the tip of my nose itched terribly, but it would be unseemly for me to scratch it from where I stood. Not that conduct such as that mattered to Meathead, who had scratched his rear no less than four times and was now shifting from foot to foot with impatience. 

When last Leslie was called, and I presented to her the warstaff I had crafted, I could hear the mutters from Froom’s mages across the crowd. Words greed and envy were the highest topics among them, though several of the more lecherous mages spoke of other things. Thankfully, I was the only one who could hear such whispers, otherwise, I feared Leslie might not appreciate the words spoken of her even if they were compliments in an odd sort of fashion. 

“And finally, we have a gift from the orphaned children of Sena to present!” Kine called as the crowd was beginning to grow unruly with the long ceremony. “Children?”

Five young children came from behind a building to the right. Each child was no more than eight years old, and four held a familiar box at each corner. The fifth led the way in a march, some silly imitation of the guards, yet the lad was no less serious than they. 

There was a bit of a jostle as they reached the stairs, and one of the girls almost tripped, yet soon they overcame that and stood before [High Priestess] Shaelra. She looked down at the children with a motherly smile and opened the box containing the Hat Which All Abhorred, and lifted it high into the air for the entire crowd to see.

“Thank you, children,” she whispered to the five, who turned and marched off the stage with their empty box. 

For my part, my smile didn’t feel taxing at all anymore until she stepped forward and turned in my direction holding the horrendous thing. 

The [High Priestess’s] voice was melodious and carried far into the crowd and she began to step in my direction. “[Wizard] Fargus on behalf of these orphans who would be lost if they weren’t here today and the Sisters of Elora who could not carry the weight of their burdens until they leaned on your strength. On behalf of the Heroes of Broken Collars, we present to you this gift of thanks. Made with the love and admiration of more than a hundred children and blessed by Elora’s Light.”

My eyes widened, and it took every ounce of my self-discipline to stand and smile where I was. Every instinct in my mind to me to flee. Tens, no hundreds of illusion and invisibility spells crossed my mind in that instant, but a calm and peaceful presence from the woman allowed me to overcome my fears and humiliation. It was the second time I had felt it from her, and it must have been a skill because I detected no magics from the woman. 

Biting my tongue to keep any foul words from my mouth, I withdrew my own perfectly acceptable hat and closed my eyes to accept my fate. One day. I could wear this for one day and be fine. There was no shame here. I repeated these words over and over to myself as I felt the hat touch my head and the crowd let loose a laughter-filled cheer. 

With the stupidest hat I had ever seen in my life resting atop my head, I raised a hand and smiled at the crowd, all while ignoring Mena’s belabored laughter behind me. I kept my forced smile on my face as I ignored it when she fell to the ground and clutched her sides. I said nothing when Leslie couldn’t look in my direction and Kine quickly disappeared after a guilty look. I acted as though it didn’t bother me at all, without saying a word, all the way back to my tower rooftop. There, I demanded several bottles of plum wine and stared at the stars shining on my reflection lake. 

And when I was certain that I was alone on the top of that tower, that no one could see me, I touched the hat on my head and smiled. 

Patron exclusive content

Hello!  I had some ideas for patreon exclusive chapters / POV interludes / etc, and was considering additional chapters such as one where Nemon attempted to rebuild his destroyed couch from book 2. 

Yet, the more I thought about it the more I thought I wasn't certain if that would be something you all might want, or if there were other things that would appeal to you more. 

So, let me know what you want! If you have ideas, you can comment them below. If you want to see someone else's idea made into fruition, feel free to click the like beside their comment. 

As an aside, please don't suggest any additional content of the mature audience variety, lol.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 45

Cothram, the 5th Tier [Dark Blade] who the king sent to assassinate me dodged the strike by leaping to the side. The man was agile, I’ll give him that. That wouldn’t save him. When we last met, he destroyed my only couch! I had that couch for seventy-five years! I had been forced to use Mirtallean long chairs! I went couchless because of this miscreant, the rogue, this—this—I couldn’t even think of good insults for the man! 

Despite the calls from the others and the pleas from the man, it took me more than an hour of me flying and him dodging for me to calm myself. My spells weren’t trying to kill him, just express my displeasure. When we both finally returned to the festivities, I found that the rest of the party was drinking and laughing in jovial spirits. Seeing them like this brought a smile to my face, and I couldn’t help but be proud of them. 

I took time to speak with them all in turn, using the same order that they arrived at to do so. Except for Mena, that is. She had continued to drink and had reached unintelligible gibberish that I simply smiled and nodded at. Leslie proudly shared with me the requirements of her own class, although slaying the avatar of a god was something that I doubted could be easily replicated. Not that I wanted to. 

She was the first to detail to me how they traveled north into Mirktal, hiding from bands of slavers, slave-soldiers, and slaver-priests to reach the Cathedral of Binding to stop the ceremony. It made for a harrowing tale of narrow escapes, magical duels, and fortuitous encounters. 

Interestingly, she spoke of an attempted raid against one of the Mirkallean wizard towers to gain access to a magical device that would hide them from detection by holy magics, only to find that most of the tower was already defeated and Diedre was in a duel against the current leader of that tower. It struck me as odd the way she described how many apprentices and mages in training they encountered until she mentioned that the mage towers in that country also served as academies of a sort, wherein the pupils were enslaved to the master of the tower. 

I was abhorred by that structure, but also mildly enticed. Such a method would be much more efficient at dealing with unruly students or those that weren’t putting true effort into learning their craft. After winning the battle, Diedre had not been eager to share the spoils of their victory or join them on their quest until Tond had talked her into it. According to Leslie, Diedre was truly afraid of my wrath at her departure, and only Tond’s promise they would speak to me on her behalf swayed her mind.

Meathead had also ascended to the 5th Tier, and classed up from [Champion of Bi] to [Chosen of Bi], something I noted for future reference, but he couldn’t clearly articulate what that truly meant other than he was now best friends with his new “boss”. He had been busy speaking with Rolf and Rolf’s new bride. I avoided an in-depth conversation on either matter, as I felt apprehensive enough in garnering the attention of other gods, nor did I have much to say on child-rearing. Instead, I prodded him more on an offhanded remark about a freed slave named Qultan who had joined them only to die happily flinging himself on the god’s avatar as a distraction.

My former guard, Tond, had also ascended from his 3rd Tier class [Elemental Archer] to a 4th Tier [Elite Elemental Archer], and then again to [Elite Elemental Archer Captain], as he specialized in the planning and execution of their great adventures. He and Diedre were standing before a group of Froom’s mages, all women, who seemed to be paying more attention to Tond than was normal. I first suspected some kind of charm artifact or skill, but as I listened to him speak more about several parts of the adventure that seemed very unlikely to occur, I concluded it was just a natural charisma. 

Diedre apologized profusely for her departure, but I waved the matter off. In comparison to a lost couch, it was a tiny slight. I did use her guilt to get her to agree to share any of the 5th Tier mysteries she had gained during her departure, something she was all too willing to do. I willing accepted her return, after that.

[High Priestess] Shaelra was more radiant than I remembered and exuded such a calming and peaceful presence, I ended up speaking with her the longest. She was still concerned about the orphans and her sisters she’d left behind, eager to catch up with both. Moreso, she detailed the many trespasses against family and love that she observed amongst the slaves of Mirktal and was eager to spread the news across her church that their presence was needed now by those lost souls. 

Eventually, though, as the party stretched into the night and many began to go their separate ways for the evening, I found myself standing in front of Cothram. At first, he refused to meet my gaze. Then he shriveled before it. Without speaking a word, a tense silence grew between us that slowly spread out into the crowd. Eventually, he found his courage.

“I apologize. I—I will replace your couch.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Two couches.”

I tilted my head forward.

“…Three couches…?” he asked hesitantly. 

My brows furrowed.

“Four—no—five couches! I will bring you five couches to replace the one you lost.” 

I snorted. “I lost?”

“That I destroyed.”

I nodded my head once. After my answer, not only he, but several more around us seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and the party continued after as if nothing had happened, and lasted long past when I retired. 

The next morning, we regathered downstairs in a much more subdued atmosphere. The other revelers were nowhere to be seen, and only a few hungover servants lethargically served us leftovers from the feast. 

I hadn’t slept that past evening, rather I spent my time enchanting new gifts for Leslie’s group. What had begun with the idea that I needed to give her something to celebrate not just her victory in the task I had given her but also a way of acknowledging she was beyond the realm of serving in an assistant position had expanded to include the other members. The consideration that Meathead might feel a childlike disappointment at not having a gift either, had then expanded to Mena and then Tond. 

Before I knew it, I had crafted for them seven different items of profound and unique powers. For Leslie, who skipped over the [Elementalist] class during her adventurers, I crafted a warstaff that of mithril with a four-prong top shaped like how I envisioned a dragon’s claw might look. Each finger of the four in the claw was shaped from head-sized gemstones that belonged to each of the major elements with 3rd Tier elementals summoned to serve within. The base of the claw wasn’t a gem itself, but rather the cage around one of the dungeon cores I had gathered on my travels. 

I was so satisfied with how I made the warstaff, that I made a second for myself and secreted it away in my Magic Bag. I don’t think any mage had ever received a staff this powerful before as a gift, and I suspected that it was the type of artifact that would stand the test of time to maybe one day become one of the ancient weapons that noble housed held in their vaults. That idea didn’t leave me pleased, but I couldn’t very control what Leslie chose to do with it after I gifted it to her. It was already bad enough that I secretly hide spellwork inside to ensure that it couldn’t ever be used against me. 

Meathead’s gift was easier to construct, even if I had to secretly measure the man’s head while he slept. Another head-sized crystal, this one solely of emerald to match the ring he possessed, would summon a 3rd Tier earth elemental shaped like a stone bull as tall as a tree.  I hoped that the god Bi wasn’t affronted in that I had taken liberties with the shape of the animal’s head to enlarge the horns and give it an angry look, but I reasoned that if the bull was summoned it wouldn’t be for a parade.

Mena was a bit trickier to create a unique artifact for. I had known her for a while, but she had made some significant changes in her life since the quest began. The first being, that as I observed her throughout the evening, I found that her inebriated state was an act. One that came to light in the small hours of the morning after the party had ended and she snuck off to see her friend Michael who was now one of my head guards. 

I had watched them carefully with a scrying spell when she left, fearing that she too might be plotting against me or spying as Rhaela had only to discover that she had a secret deal with the man to ensure I was protected. The entire conversation caught me off guard, but when their rendezvous turned in a romantic direction, I stopped my observation. I wasn’t certain why she felt the need to pretend to be drunk, but I wouldn’t pry any further. 

For Mena, though, I cast analyze on her I did find that she had ascended from her previous [Elemental Guardian] to a sword and shield combat style that was a 4th Tier [Elemental Vanguard]. I don’t know why only she of all the others wasn’t at the fifth tier, but again it wasn’t my position to pry. Instead, I took the shield she had left on the first floor when she snuck her way out to the guardhouse and constructed one from mithril with an inner base of sapphire. 

With it, I summoned a 3rd tier elemental that would take the form of either a wall of ice or a wave of water. It wouldn’t offer any powerful offense, but it might save her life. On the handle of the shield, I also snuck in several rings that could be used to casting Rock Armor, though they were of finite uses. I also, somewhat shamelessly, engraved the image of my tower onto the front.

For the [High Priestess], who I assumed would turn down anything too ostentatious and gift it to her church instead, I took several small beads of moonstone onto a necklace and wove in enchantments that would allow her to summon illusionary birds of light once a day, or twice at night provided it had access to moonlight. It wasn’t something that could necessarily function as anything more than a brief distraction in battle, but it would pair well with any religious ceremonies that she might undertake. 

Tond’s gift was a circlet, similar to a crown with small topazes embedded around it. I made it from normal copper, as the man’s grandstanding was already at a barely-tolerable level. Gifting him a crown fit for a king might push him beyond what anyone could stand. The stones in this circlet had summoned air elementals that would carry whispered words to anyone nearby, something I assumed would be of great use to a captain.

Diedre I almost didn’t craft anything for. She had already slighted me once, and I felt hesitant to allow her the opportunity to do so again. Yet, the opportunity to tie a scrying spell onto her gift in case she vanished again was too much to let pass. Rather than craft anything for her, though, I simply selected an old grimoire from my library that detailed several unusual 4th Tier [Pyromancer] spells and rituals. I no longer had a use for it other than the novelty, and illusionary fires were not something that would be of any risk to me or others. 

Cothram’s gift was almost haphazardly crafted. A part of me felt that until he provided the couches promised, that he was still courting death. Another part of me reasoned that I already had more than enough couches in my sitting room and truly didn’t have space for more. A third part of me recognized the role he played in their adventure—that of using the holy artifact I had provided to stab the god’s avatar in the back when they nearly lost the battle. An enormous risk to himself, entirely selflessly made, that proved to be the difference between success and failure. 

That particular holy spike, of course, was destroyed in the process, but I was glad to not have it returned to me. Beyond the hesitation to make him something unique as a reward was also the fact that I truly didn’t know the man. I didn’t know his likes or dislikes. I didn’t know what magical items he already possessed from his adventures. I didn’t want to gift him something like a magical cloak when he already had one, or an enchanted dagger he might be tempted to try to stab me in the back with.

In the end, I used a piece of amber to craft a belt buckle. It would only summon a 2nd Tier nature elemental in the forms of either entangling vines or a flower that sprayed sleeping pollen, but—given the elemental’s duplicitous nature—I thought it a fitting gift for the man. 

It was as I stood in front of the mostly attentive eyes of my sleepy guests, gifts readied in my Magical Bag, that I realized I hadn’t prepared a proper speech. My mouth twisted in a grimace. I had been irritated at their lack of courtesy last evening, and now found myself tired, grumpy, and about to present to them gifts without any ceremony. 

It was at that moment, I turned to see my former assistant, Alderman Kine enter and give me a bow. 

“Lord Fargus, the children are ready,” he said the words nervously and followed with an awkward bow.

“The children?”

“Yes, Master. I spoke to you before about this. I had hoped they had forgotten, but the festival yesterday reminded them.”

“Reminded them that they wanted to present to you a hat.”

I recoiled at his words, remembering a hat that was crafted by orphans that not even monsters would wear. I, too, had forgotten their intentions in the midst of experimenting. I couldn’t keep the apprehension from my voice, “I—I see…”

Behind me, I heard Mena chuckle. “This I hafta see.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 44

The [Lesser Hydra] twisted and curled in useless anger against the tight grip of my 5th Tier elemental. The spikes on my elemental’s tentacles scraped away deep gouges on the iridescent scales of the monster. Its regeneration was quick to replace the flesh even though the scales took longer to regrow. I watched on with my mind adrift, even as the creature was pinned against the wall of the plateau, and slowly brought up. 

Three other hydras coiled beneath, snapping up at either it or its captor, and several of Froom’s mages were practicing flame and earth magics from the tome I had spread.  These three were resting from their various travels across the country, and the others were scheduled to return today. I paid them no mind, as I found myself in a daze of recollecting. 

One of the heads of the hydra had a pinkish tone to the scales that reminded me of a rogue I had adventured into my first dungeon with. I had been in the middle of the 3rd Tier, a [Pyromancer] working to learn the other elements and she had been at the top of the 3rd ready to ascend to the 4th Tier. I had been a new addition to the party, an uncertain one for them, and was only accepted because of my military accolades. In hindsight, my arrogance from back then ashamed me now. They had been doing me a favor and my inflated pride from war victories had nearly spoiled it. 

The woman, I can’t recall her name now, and it bothered me. I hadn’t written her into my Book of the Dead because we parted ways a year later. I did remember there was a small pink viper’s head stitched into the breast of her tunic, and that image stuck with me. Mostly because I had overestimated my capabilities and nearly died. She was the one who pulled me away from certain death at the bottom of a dungeon trap. A simple pitfall with stone spikes at the bottom. A foolish oversight that I hadn’t even known to look for.

Saving my life grew into a whirlwind romance, one highlighted by drunken arguments and impassioned reconciling. There weren’t many romantic relationships in my life. Dalliances, certainly. Yet, relationships I learned to shun after a while, as they aged and I didn’t. I could count the number of them I had in less than two hands—but I couldn’t remember her name.

It was a slight against her and what little we had together, that I couldn’t. A memory that resurfaced that had been long at rest. I wondered if I would eventually forget Loralie’s name, too. I might. Part of me hoped I would. Another part of me spoke of greater culpability. That if I had enacted my vengeance against the king earlier, then she might still be alive today. That it had been a mistake to hold my wrath after Walker’s death—his murder.

My feelings were more complicated than that. A few moments ago, one of the lads that served as a messenger had come by to let me know that Leslie’s group was on their way up the plateau. The village was hosting a celebration of their success, and a feast was being prepared in my kitchens. How was I to look Mena in the eye knowing that Walker’s death didn’t move me to action but Loralie’s did? That was an uncomfortable truth I wasn’t ready to deal with myself, let alone discuss with others. 

I shook my head and tried to dismiss the heavy melancholy that enwrapped me, as the hydra grew closer. This was the second I’d captured this week – the first had already been reduced to reagents in preparation for testing. This, well this one was to see if hydra meat was tasty. What better time than a feast to learn? Even if it didn’t, it should silence some of Kine’s complaints on food rationing.  I told them to kill the wolves, yet every idiot villager wanted a pet. Morale doesn’t matter when there’s no more food on the table, no does it? 

The magic being cast beside me stopped as the hydra beneath ceased moving. The eyes of the young mages turned to the one I captured with a hatred that could be seen and understood by all. 

“No,” I answered their unasked question. Even if the hydra was large enough to feed the entire village, that wasn’t the entirety of this investigation. If there was a difference in taste between an older snakehead and a newly regenerated one, I wanted to know. Was the meat softer? More tender? Was the older tougher or gamier? If this monster could be eaten, these questions were the ones that came next. Then I paused. Why should I do the work here?

“You may each remove a head in a fashion that leaves only one head remaining. I want you to document which spells were used on which parts of this thing and to what effect. Consider this an exercise in precision and record-keeping.” I turned away from their savage grins and walked towards my tower. 

I doubted that any who had seen the monsters now would bemoan their deaths. Maybe that insane alchemist. He’d probably want to breed them as materials for—I paused in my steps, and withdrew the tome I wrote new experiment ideas in. I glanced around quickly to ensure no one could read it and quickly wrote ‘If edible - breed hydra for maximum taste’ into the line. 

I glanced up at the series of other possible experiments to see if there were any that caught my eye and could be completed before the new heroes arrived and scowled. ‘Teach mushroom men magic – breed magical assistants?’ was scratched away in annoyance. The things had proven themselves too stupid for that, after creating some kind of cult that required them to draw and quarter each other instead of whatever their normal breeding process was. 

It was hours later and evening had set by the time the heroes arrived. I’d been hearing loud cheering from the villagers for nearly an hour and seen the illusionary spells shot into the night by Froom’s mages. Their victory over the Mirktallean priests had earned them this much and more – many of the villagers were refugees, orphans, or former slaves that had suffered because of the war. Even I felt a proud sense of satisfaction knowing that those cursed slave-priests had been so greatly humbled. 

I stood between my chair and the table was laden with food when the door was opened. Fentworth, my dutiful seneschal, entered first and bowed.

“My lord [Wizard] Fargus, I present to you the Heroes of Broken Collars. First, may I present the 5th Tier [God-slayer Magus], Leslie Freedom.”

Leslie, who had been my assistant and might still be, entered with her head held high. She had been a young lady with short, curly black hair when I first met her, but had changed considerably. Her young features were thinned and more elegant, her robes were of considerable design and enchantment, and her hair had been prepared as if she were nobility. At the 5th Tier now, and in such an unusual class, she certainly should be. More than that, her body radiated a magical power that seemed to make the air itself crackle. She bowed, not as low as an assistant, but low enough to honor me before stepping aside.

I returned her bow with one of my own, equaling her depth exactly. While I had a current need for assistants, at her tier now, I didn’t want her as one. She would have her own experiments and designs, things that I wanted to part in helping her with – though I would be more than happy to discuss any results with her. 

“Presenting the 5th Tier [Elemental Scourge], Mena Downsright.” 

Downsright? I hadn’t heard of that surname before and wondered why she chose it. Given her sense of humor, I had some cautious suspicions it was an unruly bit of humor that stuck longer than she expected. Mena, in a new suit of armor that would make any knight I knew jealous, walked in with the grace of a dullard. Her swaggering steps were punctuated with a stagger and a hiccup. Drunkenly, she saluted, “Hey boss!”

I wanted to give her a hard time, showing back up at the tower in such a slovenly state, but I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw her smile. It was the kind of infectious, heartfelt smile that one doesn’t simply ignore, and I had to return it.

Rather than step aside, she walked forward and heaved herself into one of the stone chairs with a clang. Both Fentworth, Leslie, and I watched her as she began to devour the food. I shared a glance of understanding with Leslie and turned to Fentworth just in time to see Meathead walk in. 

“Hiya Boss!” He called, just as happy as Mena, yet without the drunkenness needed. Without care for protocol or ceremony, he sat down beside Mena and began to eat as well. I bit back a small sigh and glanced at the doorway. As I feared, the next to enter didn’t adhere to ceremony either. A smiling Tond, with an arm around a certain [Pyromancer] named Diedre that had run away after the battle of Gold Castle, strutted in like a rooster. On the stairs to the kitchens, I heard a loud growl, and I looked over to see a very unhappy Chelsea standing next to her son Rolf. 

Tond didn’t look much different from before, besides a sturdier longbow and new confidence. I couldn’t say the same for Diedre. She now had silver hair that seemed to burn, a physical manifestation of a 5th Tier class.  

Tond, though, either ignored the woman or didn’t hear her as he bowed low. “Lord Fargus, may I present to you—”

“I know who she is Tond. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” I said with a contained smile. I was still a bit cross with how she had simply vanished.

She at least had the tactfulness to look embarrassed, “Yes, [Wizard] Fargus, I am ashamed that I left in the way I did, but the circumstances gave me no other options. I would like to tell you the tale, should you wish to hear it.”

“She got caught by slavers. We saw her on the journey and set her free,” Tond said offhandedly as he winked at the silver-haired woman under his arm.  Diedre pouted but said little else. I gave a nod in answer and they stood to the side.

The next to enter was the Sister of Elora, whom Fentworth announced as a [High-Priestess] Shaelra, who bowed and followed all the normal courtesies of the court. I couldn’t help but feel annoyed that only two out of the six followed the correct manner of attendance, but, based on their new classes, it was no longer my place to instruct them. 

I motioned for the standing four to sit and straightened my robes to sit, but Fentworth coughed into his hand. I glanced up, surprised there was another member of their party, and saw someone completely unexpected. 

“You!” I snarled and pointed, letting fly a quick blast of lightning.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 43

After a full day and a half of much-needed sleep, I awoke to an excellent breakfast of eggs, sausage, fruit, and freshly-baked biscuits. After nearly a week of eating travel rations, I may have eaten more than I should have, and it lay heavily on my stomach. Afterward, I quickly changed to a fresh robe of green and blue before standing for a long moment. It was a great feeling. I breathed deeply and exhilarated in the pleasure of not having to wear pants. Certainly, trousers served an important function for society at large, but that didn’t mean I had to enjoy them. 

I headed downstairs, knowing that Froom’s mages should have begun to arrive and wishing I had the chance to relax in my bath with a cup of fine wine. It had been too long since I had done so. Yet, as I arrived at the first floor of my tower, my seneschal was waiting for me. 

Fentworth Aide, still dressed prim and proper, and somehow in a tailored suit of matching colors. The afternoon sun came through the amethyst windows and its reflection on the room’s copper inlays throughout the room made the geometric design shine. It was the perfect scene to meet other mages in, as they would no doubt be looking for the light or illusion spells that weren’t there. I smiled at the thought until I remembered the vast crystal tower Alred built. That his was more magnificent and grander than my own tower killed my budding joy. 

I bit back a sigh and nodded to Fentworth. I would need to make do with my uncomfortable chairs. “Good afternoon. They have begun arriving?”

Fentworth bowed in return, “Yes, my lord. Alderman Kine has begun construction of an inn near the gate and commissioned furniture from the village. There are thirty mages currently exploring the village as they wait. Shall I summon them?”

I waved my hand towards him, granting him permission, and headed towards my seat. The room would be crowded with thirty mages, but I was sure that Fentworth had some plan to manage that. I smirked at the thought of them forming a line and entering one at a time like children. Then, I turned to more serious thoughts. The duchess had declared herself queen in the middle of the end of the age, and I suspected she would assume I would support her political move. I had no intention to do so, not at the cost of innocent lives lost to the Pestilence. 

I also had the stasis spell to deconstruct. I wanted to replicate it first before I began to pull it apart. If I could do so, that would soothe much of my concern that the holy magics weren’t a necessary part of the spellwork, but rather the type of magic used for that particular spell. I had gathered more dungeon cores that I needed to convert into artifacts, though I had no further intention of handing them out. I could vaguely trust my current assistants, given that the only spell they could cast with it would create a plateau. My fingers strummed against the table. I did need to place wards around my plateau, however. It wouldn’t do to have a rebellious assistant cast a plateau while I slept and lift my tower so far into the sky the air went bad.

I also wanted to capture a hydra or two to experiment on. Their body parts were used in the alchemist potion, and I wanted to see if they could also be used as reagents to improve the longevity spell. I also, as hesitant as I was to admit it, wondered how they tasted. If they tasted good, a single hydra could potentially be used to feed an entire city for centuries. Would they taste like snake or turtle did? Fish? Would it be better to grill one on an open flame or fry it? 

It was as I was imagining stone-sized pieces of hydra steak covered in molasses that the first mage entered. Fentworth, ever the expert, announced him.

“Presenting [Crystal Magus] Truhan Blue-eyes to the lord [Wizard] Nemon Fargus.” 

I nodded a greeting in response to the low bow the man presented before seeing his bright blue eyes. He must be a commoner then, one that chose his surname. I hope the eye color passes on, or the man’s children will certainly be mocked for it. 

My seneschal continued to speak, past the normal greeting, “Magus Blue-eyes is the senior-most mage among those present, and highest in authority under Lord Froom’s structure.”

Excellent choice Fentworth! If this man is competent, then I would be able to delegate the entire task of evacuation to him with only minor input. That way, I can continue my research! I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

Then, the [Crystal Magus] opened his mouth and began to speak and that hope was dashed. 

Two weeks later, I was ending a meeting with the four lead mages of the lot Froom had sent when my seneschal announced that Honest Brom had arrived and was requested a meeting. [Geomancer] Stuth, a quiet and calm woman, was head of a group of five mages whose sole responsibility was to ferry fresh soil through the gateways. [Crystal Magus] Nilter, a young lad of great potential for magic but much less potential for tact, was responsible for the fifteen or so mages that traveled to each plateau to construct gateways to Froom’s plane.  It was a task that would normally have been assigned to an older mage, yet Nilter seemed to be so aggressively demanding and insulting that the others eagerly took to their tasks simply to get away from the lad. 

[Magus] Nichols, a friendly woman who was the daughter of a merchant, was responsible for the stacks of maps that now rested on my table. Mapmakers, by and large, didn’t consult with each other. Many, despite their skills, had never been to the areas they drew and relied solely on the words of others. Those words came from bickering nobles and merchants who wanted to hide roads or claim tracts of land from each other. Even maps made of the kingdom were often differing in proportions. That was before most of the villages and towns were lifted onto plateaus. Her level of organizational skills was so great, that I was considering offering her an assistant position when this was all done with.

[Pyromancer] Stroon, the son of a minor noble house I had never heard of in southern Laxtoni, and three other mages, tracked the products of those who remained towns and villages instead of evacuating. I paid particular attention to his results, as I was keen on knowing where the best wines would be made in the future. I also had another plan that I would need the knowledge for, but that would be best acted on after the evacuation was complete. 

[Crystal Magus] Blue-eyes had spent a few days in the body of a sheep to determine if the animal’s form could hold a human’s mind. When visiting another mage’s tower, you should never insult it. Especially not as the first thing one says. The results of the experiment were inconclusive, however. The man’s intelligence didn’t seem to be affected, though I wasn’t certain if that it was at a level above a sheep, to begin with. He did randomly “bah” in the middle of conversations now, but thankfully, the other mages had been quick to return him to the Crystal Plane before he could say anything worse.

Now mages regularly came and went, through my gate to get their assignments. At first, there had been arguments and disagreements, of course. They didn’t like to take orders from each other regardless of Froom’s hierarchy, so I had to intervene on more than one occasion. Now, mages came through the gate and stopped at the first floor. There, they would be assigned a plateau to travel to, a ring I’d constructed to allow for flight, and a list of duties to accomplish once they arrived. I wasn’t interested in simply ensuring they built a gateway. I wanted to know which place had the finest wines or best tailors and whether they would remain on the plateaus or evacuate. 

Kine’s inn was finished, and a local man, one who used to be a minor before lifting the plateau robbed him of his career, had taken to the role of innkeeper. He was doing well for himself, not just financially, but was, apparently, a much-desired partner amongst the female mages due to his muscular build. I met the man briefly and toasted him with his own ale as thanks, but had little interest in dealing with him.

I stood, and dismissed three of the mages, leaving [Magus] Nichols. The woman was the only one of the mages I allowed to live in the tower, in one of the assistant’s old rooms, because her duties revolved around the stacks of maps and tracking the assignments of mages. I also wanted her here for the meeting with Honest Brom because I had a plan that might entice her to ask to become my assistant. I wanted her to express interest in the chance rather than me asking her directly. A mage of my standing simply did not ask others to be their assistant, they asked me. 

When Honest Brom arrived, the brown-haired man spared a glance at the number of maps on the table and then offered a low bow in greeting, one that was far deeper than I imagined was comfortable for his short stature. 

“Count Fargus, I offer greetings on behalf of Countess Nix.”

I clapped my hands once, “Excellent! Brom, I would introduce [Magus] Vioa Nichols, in service to Lord Froom. She has been a great aid in recent endeavors. Let us reconvene in my sitting room. Fentworth, if you would have snacks delivered?”

Fentworth sketched a small bow and set off ahead of us to the kitchens, while I lead a curious magus and a fearful spy down the spiraling staircase to the sitting room I had created. Neither one paid any mind to the kitchens, but both cast curious stares at the heavily warded Hall of Valor. When we arrived at my sitting room, stock full of the finest couches and chairs, I was surprised to see that neither batted an eye at the room. Which made me curious. 

I waited until we all sat, each on different couches facing each other, and I waved my hand around, “Brom, what do you think of my sitting room?”

“It’s a fine sitting room, my lord,” his words were spoken hesitantly.

I sensed an unspoken ‘but’ in the way he said it, so I pushed, “Come, you are called Honest Brom, are you not?” 

He nervously glanced around, his eyes falling on Miss Nichols who only smirked in his direction, before he slowly spoke, “My lord, with the evacuation underway, couches are no longer the symbol of prosperity they once were. Nobles are trading them away for chickens.” His eyes widened and he was quick to talk more, “But! But dirt and soil are! And you, my lord, with your swamplands and bogs, are sitting on a veritable mountain of riches!”

Despite his assertion about dirt, I was crestfallen. All the work I had put into gathering this furniture if felt pitifully pointless. I pressed my lips together to help bite back the curse words on the tip of my tongue, and ignored the awkward moment I had inadvertently created. Quickly, though, I feigned recovery and motioned towards the man. “Come, you have news to share?”

He nodded eagerly at the opening to change the subject. “Indeed, Mighty Wizard, I have important news from Mirktal, from our Queen, and from Countess Nix. I fear the news from our Queen is not a pleasant subject.” He said the last sentence with a grimace. 

I considered the order for a brief second and wanted to correct the man about his choice of wording. It wasn’t ‘our queen’, as I hadn’t been consulted on her ascension at all. I hadn’t sworn any oath of loyalty or obedience and hadn’t been asked for one. She had appointed me to a governing position without so much as inquiring with me. I wasn’t interested in involving myself in those politics, less so to call her ‘my queen’. Still, he presented the news in an order I assumed he wanted to follow, so I granted him that.

“Tell me of Mirktal.”

I noticed that Magus Nichols lean forward ever so slightly from where she sat as he began.

“The entire country is in open rebellion. The slaves have been unchained and are murdering the nobility and priesthood with a vengeance. Many rumors are circulating about why, but my man heard from a drunken priest who couldn’t cast his spells anymore that their god was silent. He suspected two reasons for this. The priesthood tried to enslave King Sena with forbidden magics, but he threw himself from his castle tower to stop them, martyred himself to save the kingdom and strike back at his enemies.”

Brom paused to let his words sink in, though I didn’t believe that at all. In fact, I suspect the priesthood may have been successful, and my hex was the reason for his suicide. There was only so much pain anyone could tolerate, and the spell Unending Agony was the kind that pushed past that. 

Brom continued, “My informant, she also said that the priest mentioned a summoning spell gone wrong. That a group of heretic adventurers interrupted the ceremony in a way that their god was forced to retreat in silence to heal. I don’t know the accuracy of these rumors, but I do know that most of the priesthood is dead. The freed soldiers turned on their masters with a powerful vengeance and their bodies are still being mauled long after death.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Magus Nichols sigh in relief, but I said nothing. “Go on.”

“That is all I know of Mirktal. Oh, no. I had heard that wyverns attacked a month ago, but no one seems to know where they’ve gone.” 

When I said ‘go on’, I meant for him to tell me of Duchess—Queen Eistoni, but he must have misunderstood me. I chose my words carefully as I spoke next, “Very well, tell me of the queen.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but a servant entered before he could. A platter of fruits and cheeses, three cups, and a decanter of fine blueberry wine was laid on the table, and Brom carefully watched the servant leave before he spoke again. With an expert hand, the man plopped a few blueberries into his cup and poured himself a drink as he spoke.

“The Queendom isn’t doing well publicly, and there have been some changes in leadership across different baronies. The new King of Sena, his firstborn son, has led an army to Fort Mount to launch attacks into the lands of Count Hirkley. He has geomancers with him that let him raid. The Queen sent Count Wilchrest to counter, but battles have been lost. The only thing stopping the young King’s army from completely taking the duchy… is, well, that great serpents are digging themselves up from the ground.”

He looked at me intensely for a moment before he asked, “Are you calling them? These many-headed monsters? Do they rise in defense of the duchy?”

I frowned and shook my head at the accusation. “No, those are the true foe. Not Mirktal, not King Sena. Those monsters want to eat the entire world.”

Miss Nichols whispered to herself, “So it’s true.”

Honest Brom didn’t hear her but instead looked into his cup as he swirled the wine around. “Of course.”

I picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into my mouth as I held back a sneer. Did he think just because I invited him to sit with me that he was in a position to judge?! He was only an actor for someone else! 

Still, punishing the man for his lapse would do me no good. I would simply have to remind him of the distance between us in our next meeting. I most assuredly would not be sharing good wine with the man. In fact, if it weren’t for the potential for an excellent assistant, I would have had him write down the news and leave it with Fentworth. 

Yes, that’s exactly how I would handle the man in the future. “And the countess?”

Honest Brom took a quick sip of his wine. “She is well.” He glanced at the Magus before continuing. “Her vengeance was swift and deadly. She wanted to let you know that your offer was not needed.”

Ah, her vengeance and the offer of refuge. She had granted me the ancient elven tome that the goddess of knowledge wanted me to research not too long ago. I had nearly forgotten about her request, but it seemed that remembering it would have been pointless. “Very good. Is there anything further? No? Then, I trust you’ll see yourself out.”

I dismissed him with a wave, and he took the hint quite well, though I did make sure to cast a cleaning spell on the couch he had been seated before he left the room. Not that my couch didn’t have a self-cleaning enchantment already. It was simply a minor return for the offense he had given. He had no right to judge me, nor did anyone else for that matter. I waited in silence with Miss Nichols for a moment as I watched through my elementals to ensure he left as he should. I wouldn’t want to try to explain to Countess Nix that I had accidentally slain her subordinate by letting him walk into a trapped room he shouldn’t be in.

After he was gone, I turned to [Magus] Nichols, and offered her a smile. 

She asked, softly, “Lord Fargus, why did you invite me here to this meeting? This is unrelated to my duties.”

I nodded, having decided while I had spoken to Honest Brom. My plan had been thwarted by things outside of my control, and if couches hadn’t impressed her, I doubt dirt would. “Not the duties related to the evacuation, no it doesn’t.”

“I—I don’t understand, my lord.” She responded and her hand subconsciously tightened around the collar of her robe. Her cheeks brightened a tad, the beginnings of a blush.

I looked at her questioning if I had made the right decision. What was going through her mind? She wasn’t unattractive, for a human, but she was no Loralie. Her hair was long and dark, and her face was a bit rounder than what would entice me. “I will be straightforward with you, then.”

She nodded and watched with a strange look of apprehension.

“I am in need of a research assistant, and your organizational skills are excellent. I am certain Alred would release you from his employ to mine if you agreed. Shall I send a missive?”

I watched the young woman go through a series of different emotions, from disappointment to anger, to uncertainty, to general confusion before she answered. “S-sure.”

I nodded as I stood up. “Good. I will see you this afternoon to begin going over your additional duties.”

I turned to leave her where she sat, and head down to my laboratory. I had been so busy of the last two weeks that I’d forgotten to feed the tortoise Alred had gifted me as a potential familiar and it starved to death. Feeding it, of course, had been the responsibility of my assistants before I sent them all away, so I was greatly anticipating having someone else here that could handle such tasks.

New map! The duchy of Eistoni

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Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 42

My words, of course, warranted no reaction from the soldiers. These weren’t normal soldiers, mercenaries, or adventurers – they were Mirtallean slave-soldiers. Regardless of any fear they might hold or risk to themselves, the magic in their collars would force them to follow orders. I could see in their eyes, how they tensed their muscles, and in their ashen complexion on tightly drawn faces that they didn’t want to kill me. They believed it meant their deaths – and any other time, it would have.

Subtly, I prepared to cast my flight spell. My wards weren’t as strong as they had been before my rampage as several of the priests had thrown their unholy magic against me in useless attempts to save their own lives, but if I flew fast enough, I should reach a height unassailable by the archers. It was a risk. In theory, my remaining wards should hold against more than a few arrows. Still, I didn’t know for certain how much was left of them, and I had neither the time nor the mana to correct that.

I was halfway towards completing my spell when my concentration was forceable broken. The sounds of chains rattling, louder than ever before, resounded from the north to echo inside my mind. It wasn’t just the normal spells the slave-priests cast, nor was it the aftershocks of the Mirktal summoning their slave-god. No, it was far worse and one of my deepest fears. I had attracted the attention of the god itself.

Wizard. It called into my mind. Different from the thoughts of an elemental. The voice was more powerful, it had more depth. I felt my attention falling inward, and closed my mind to concentrate. Serve me, wizard. I will grant you anything you desire. Power. Riches. Fame. Women. Serve me and you will have the power to protect humanity. All will cheer each time your name is spoken. All lands will be yours to do with what you will.

I felt paralyzed. When I had been filled with righteous anger at the priests’ sacrifices I hadn’t considered the potential results. It was more an emotional reaction based on how offended I was at what I saw. Part of me regretted acting so quickly. I had attracted the attention of a god. A god that could easily curse me into a goblin.

I could grant you what you most desire. A partner of your choice to live alongside you.

A chill went up my spine with those words, and that fear became panic.

A lover that will never turn you away. A mind that will understand your every need. An equal in magic and thoughts.  I can give you this wizard.

I was sorely tempted and I could somehow feel this god knew that. It was like it could somehow see inside my mind, shape its words to match my desires.

I could share secrets from the earliest age, reveal hidden powers you could barely comprehend. Magical tomes and spells the likes of which you will never find without me. This and more, I could give to you if you but kneel and submit.

My knees began to bend on their own. My hands reached down, nearly touching the broken ground that had once been a courtyard. I struggled against it, refusing to let anything other than myself control my body, but that did no good. Because I wasn’t struggling against someone else but my own inner desires laid bare twisted my mind until I was struggling against myself. I could feel the ward that should have protected me from this, the spell I had crafted after I had seen the snake-god, start to crack and fall away.

Whatever scant protections it gave me were failing, and I was already weary. Several days traveling and casting on end. Recrafting a spell for immediate use. Fighting against the slave-priests. The threat of the soldiers killing me if I should refuse its offer. My willpower was weaker now—the slave-god had chosen the right time to ensnare me.  Had it set this trap just for me? Did it already know my name?

I cursed myself for allowing my emotions to drive my actions. Had I not, I would have been guarded against this. With more mana, I could have pushed it into my failing ward.  I wouldn’t be at risk of death should I refuse. I wouldn’t be—my mind blanked as I could feel chains start to crawl up my legs. I opened my eyes to stare down, but they weren’t visible. Yet, I could feel them climbing my legs inch by inch, and I rejected it. Even if I died, I would be no one’s slave.

I pushed my mind forward on one thought, on a singular word that escaped my mouth as I struggled, “No.”

The chains didn’t stop, but the temptations faded. Words came into my mind, thick with anger. You reject my offer? I offer you more than I have offered any other mortal, and you refuse?! Then you will be the lowliest slave of the empire. No task shall be beneath you. I will take from you your magic and your hopes. You will know only regret and—

The sounds of chains rattling gave way to a loud snap of metal breaking. The words stopped and my head snapped to the side on its own. Something had happened, and the god’s presence was gone. Not just from my mind, but as I looked about around me with wide eyes, I could see slave collars falling the necks of the soldiers.

Some had collapsed on the spot, whether dead or from exhaustion, I couldn’t tell. Others cried and jumped for joy; their faces held expressions of happiness so great that none could doubt what it was. A few looked troubled, holding their collars and praying, as if their prayers would bring back their slaver-god.

“You!” A woman called from within a group of hugging soldiers. “It was you! I heard you say no, rejected our greatest mast—the god of the slavers.” She bit back the words, habit had seemingly ingrained a title for their god that she didn’t want to use. She, to my growing apprehension, pressed on “You did this! You freed us from the collars! I—I didn’t think I would ever be free! What is your name?”

I shook my head vigorously and waved my hands in her direction, “No. No, no, no! I didn’t free you; it wasn’t me. It was simply a coincidence. It was—it was you! I could tell you all didn’t want to die to my magic. Your refusal broke your own collars!  You should thank each other.”

The soldiers, the conscious ones, began to murmur as they focused on the conversation between me and this woman. I took that moment, to walk out of the courtyard, past the growing cacophony of newly freed voices, and walked towards the center of the city. The courtyard before the keep led out through gates to a cross-section of pebbled roads that all met at the worn stone statue of some historic figure. I could like puzzle out who it was if I concentrated hard enough, but I had more important tasks at hand. I needed to recast my ward, let my mana return, and return to my tower. Yet, I didn’t want to travel unprepared, nor did several more days flying the skies seem like the best use of my time.

No, I could use this opportunity to build one of the gateways to Froom’s plane. His people could sort out what to do with the freed soldiers and food concerns that came along with raising the city of Laxton Bay. I could then use his gateway to return to my tower within the same day, bypassing any need for travel. So, with a trick of mana and prepared pieces of quartz from my Magical Bag, I began constructing a gateway.

I worked through the remainder of the morning and afternoon, and it was evening by the time I had finished the gateway. A crowd had gathered by then, which started as something of an angry mob. While I worked, the residents of Laxton Bay took their revenge in a series of emotional trials against the soldiers, each other, slavers, and even a goat at one point. While the human criminals, most of which were found guilty, were sentenced to being thrown from the plateau, the goat had been sentenced to a different kind of death that resulted in other animals and food being publicly prepared as a celebration of the city’s freedom.

By the time I had finished the gateway, a festival was underway, with half the participants intoxicated to levels that prevented any form of normal communication. Bonfires of driftwood billowed smoke into the sky, and the scent of sizzling fish permeated the air. Songs and dance filled the cross-streets with revelry and general chaos the theme of the evening, but I paid it no attention. My mana had filled over the course of the day, and while the dungeon core artifacts I had created were nowhere close to full, I had more than enough to fix the remaining parts of my defensive wards and open the gateway.

Despite the light from several nearby bonfires, when the portal opened, it shined a bright blue into the surroundings that caused all the rambunctious partiers to stumble to a halt and stare with open mouths. I pushed a stick I had found through and withdrew it to see if it suffered any damage. Not that I expected it to, I had cast the spell and made the gateway to the exact specifications that I had read and witnessed. Still, I wouldn’t risk myself on such an unknown. The stick came back fine, and I took a deep breath as I prepared to step forward into the portal. If it wasn’t made correctly, my wards should offer me more protection than any of the others present.

Yet, before I could walk through, a drunken man holding a wooden mug of foamy ale quickly staggered past me. In seconds, he returned, wide-eyed and smiling. “Quickly now, you must see! A whole new world!”

I was quite surprised his speech wasn’t slurred, considering the way his body swayed as he stood, but I understood sailors often had different thresholds than those of us who stood on land all day. Instead, I took it to be confirmation that the portal was fully functional. I stepped forward with much more confidence than before, and the portal lead through into the same building I had entered before.

Two of Froom’s mages stood with guarded expressions and spells readied to defend against a threat, but I ignored them to cast a quick cleaning spell on myself. I hadn’t cast one in a day in a half and was worried that my appearance wasn’t the best. Then, I looked at the two, a young man and woman with guarded expressions on their faces, gave them a curt nod, and began walking towards the tunnel in the corner that would lead me to Froom’s tower. They turned to stop me but were soon overwhelmed by a veritable flood of drunken.

It didn’t take long for a servant to meet me along the crystalline tunnel, one who bowed and asked me to follow. I assumed that meant that Alred had received some kind of notice that I had arrived, though I hadn’t seen any specific detection magics. Perhaps another mage from the room of gateways had sent an air elemental ahead. Regardless, I was too exhausted to worry over much about it and let myself be led into the tower and up to a sitting room near the top.

Unlike a more official audience hall or sitting areas I had seen at castles, this seemed to be a room more focused on comfort than grandeur. A rug of monster fur lay on the floor, and light spells hung on the wall. Three couched and two sitting chairs were placed in different areas, and a few bookshelves were set against the walls. I saw tables with personal curios and portraits by artists of various adventurers that hung on the wall. Compared to the murals on the first floor that announced victories, these portraits seemed to be an attempt to capture a memory – something I was more than familiar with.

Alred, looking more lively than when we last spoke, sat in one of the chairs and sipped at a cup of tea. A tray of crackers and cheese was on a small table to his side, and an open book lay on his lap. “Nemon, may I ask why you thought to unleash hundreds of drunks into my receiving area at the small hours of the morning?” His voice had an edge to it, but I also saw him suppress a small smile.

I straightened my robe, and took a seat on a couch across from him, sinking somewhat into the fluffy cushion. “Oh, those are the remnants of Laxton Bay, cheerfully expressing their joy at a newfound freedom from Mirktallean clutches.”

Alred placed a silken strip into the book to mark his place and closed it. Then he took a sip of his tea before speaking. “You freed Laxton Bay?”

I waved away the question. “For all the good it did. I bring poorer news. The Pestilence has reached the coast. They swam around Tervan’s jungles and are eating their way through Laxton as we speak. I’ve raised as much as I could, but as we last spoke…”

“Yes, I’ll send mages to see about evacuating them from the plateaus. I wanted to speak with you about working as a coordinator on the world above for that.”

It took me a small moment to parse that he called the land we came from “the world above”, but that seemed to match with it being seen in the sky from here.  I nodded my head. If Alred needed someone to coordinate his people, I could do so from my tower. I nodded, “I could do that. I will be departing back to my tower soon enough.”

“Before you go, I have good news. My mages report that the Mirtallean ritual to summon their god failed because of a team of adventurers yesterday,” he said with a contained smile.

I nodded my head, “One less worry, then. That should make evacuating their lands all the easier.”

“Thank you Nemon. I will speak with you again, soon, old friend,” Alred said as I stood to depart.

“You as well,” I said as I headed to the door.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 41

The earth magic spell I used to draw plateaus wouldn’t work well with Laxton Bay. It could lift the city, but the bay itself would spill out. Then the city would follow, being as it wasn’t built on firm ground but rather sandy beaches. I knew from past travels here that some of the wooden buildings had poles mounted deep within the sand, but those few buildings weren’t enough to call raising the city a success. In addition, without the bay and its waters, I would be saving the people from beasts only for them to starve. 

Even if I saved the bay, they might starve, as it wouldn’t connect with the ocean and the city relied a lot on imported food.  Yet, on the other hand, I wasn’t certain how much of the population hadn’t already been dragged away in chains. I could still see the lights from candles and fireplaces flickering through the darkness and illuminating the windows of many of the buildings. I didn’t know if that meant civilians or Mirktallean soldiers were housed within.  I bitterly thought of leaving the entire city to fall to either Pestilence or starvation should they be northern soldiers and slavers, but I shook my head of it quickly.

Saving these poor souls from the jaws of the Pestilence came first, and I could consider how they would live after. With deep concentration, I altered the complex layers of the spellform to pull tough stone from deep underneath the city, forming it into the shape of an enormous saucer with edges that rose above the ocean in a grand, curved wall. Waves crashed over one side into the bowl I had created, filling the bay with more water than normal. The heavy rains did as well, I imagined, but it was a combination of the two that created a rising water level that I did not want to leave unattended for long. 

When the base was completed, I began to raise the city. Slowly at first for fear that the shaking would spread fires and there were few enough trees growing in the area around the city. As I watched it rise, though, I saw hydra approaching the shore in great numbers. Groups of five or ten, each headed directly for the city itself. The broodmother was still battling some giant of the sea off the coast, but the other hydra paid it no mind as they drew closer and closer. 

I increased the speed of my spellwork, pouring ever more of my depleting mana into it so that it would lift faster. I could have tried to actively defended the city from the attack, but the monsters seemed without end. The mana I could use to fuel my spells was already lower than I would have liked, and I felt a small twinge of shame for not arriving at the city sooner. Had I arrived later, there would be nothing left, and I feared for how many towns and villages I didn’t reach because I allowed myself distractions. 

The first few hydras that reached the rising plateau bit and struck at the rising rock chipping some away, but as more arrived they began to flow around it and focused on consuming the plants and animals nearby. I watched with amazement as one large creature nearly choked itself swallowing a whole tree. The city on the plateau seemed an afterthought for them, and I made a slow cautious circle around the plateau and nearby areas looking for anyone who may have been hiding from the Mirktallean slavers. 

I found a family in hiding inside a broken barn on an abandoned farm. Two adventurers were in the process of freeing a group of slaves from their overseers. Another child, a boy of eight perched in a tree, and a small undisturbed village located inside a thick grove with a rocky overhang, the village one that I had overlooked in my previous journey because of that same overhang. I dropped all the people I had found in that village and proceeded to raise it onto a plateau as well before returning to the city of Laxton Bay. 

The sun was rising, and rays of light were piercing through the clouds overhead when I arrived at the newly formed plateau city. The storm was settling, and now only scattered rainfall pattered down on the city. I could see the surprised faces of Mirktallean soldiers and slavers near the edges watching as hydra invaded and blocked their way home. I saw more than a few weary faces of the original citizens of Laxton Bay peaking out windows and doorways. 

Yet, what drew most of my attention was in the courtyard before a castle that used to belong to the duke. Mirktallean slaver-priests, in their thick robes and a clawed gauntlet on their hand, had gathered there for some kind of elaborate ritual involving the sacrifice of slaves upon a stone altar. Their chanting was loud enough to be heard now that the winds and rain were gone. With rising anger, I saw a man and his son, both struggling against their rope bindings on the stone and a slave-priest slicing their throats as he raised his voice in prayer. On the sides of the altar, I saw the bodies of the dead piled high, with no regard to age or gender. With each death, I heard the chains of their god in the back of my head pressuring me to submit.  

I would not submit to that. Never. This kind of foul ritual might be understandable from the Tervans to the south, but Mirktal was supposed to be a civilized country. Ritual sacrifice? Of slaves? I found my anger growing, and not the kind of anger I had held days ago for Loralie’s killer. No. It was a righteous anger at an injustice so revolting my hands and arms shook with it. I could not allow this to continue!

And I didn’t. Without regard to my depleted mana reserves, and without regard to how my actions would be perceived, I arrived like a storm interrupting their ritual. Lightning bolts and chain lighting, pillars of fire, spikes of stone, my spells swept across the courtyard as if I were knocking stones from a table. The altar itself was broken and destroyed by ten different spells; the shattered stone became glowing pebbles strewn into the wall. I held nothing back and didn’t stop at just the courtyard. 

I flew across the city in a rage, hunting down any of their priests I could find, and giving them no mercy other than a quick death. Some tried to run, those easily tossed off the plateau with wind magic. Some tried to hide, but their holy magics gave them away. When the city was cleared, I returned to that courtyard and used [Earth Manipulation] to pull down the walls of the castle itself. I wouldn’t hunt through it to find any remaining priests, and whoever lived in that building and oversaw the horror below without action—I felt no sympathy for them. 

The castle crumble before me as the Mirktallean soldier advanced from across the city into the courtyard. Spears and halberds pointed in my direction; archers stood ready behind them. I was soon surrounded by no less than five hundred men and women, each watching me with an intensity of rivaled hatred. I breathed deep as I looked about, waiting for their commander to come forth. I had little mana left, maybe enough to fly away. The mana in my artifacts was empty, and I was too far away to draw from my tower. 

I took the time to regain my composure and straighten my robes. I very much wanted to pull at the seat of my trousers, as the material was creased in a way that was mightily uncomfortable—something that robes wouldn’t do—but I couldn’t in good conscious do that with others nearby. 

As I fixed myself, the soldiers became uncomfortable, their lack of discipline showing in scared whispers and jumbled shifting about. Heavy breathes steamed into the morning, and more than one soldier glanced back towards the archway that led into the courtyard as if they planned to run. 

When no commander showed himself, and I heard no commands, I looked about these soldiers with a tight smile on my face and an inspecting eye. I arched an eyebrow and clasped my hands behind my back, “So, I assume you have gathered to me because you want to live?”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 40

The young messenger from the duchess stayed with me at the tower for two days, waiting for me to pen my response to the duchess-turned-queen. An amenable lad, though he had a penchant for going to the additional cell I created for the King’s messenger and taunting him. Apparently, they’d waited beneath the plateau for three contentious days, and he’d had to take grave insults from the man and the four knights over the wait. 

I would have put a stop to it, but the idea that the King’s messenger had not only behaved so poorly, that they also bet his life’s savings hiring the four knights to kill me did a lot to smother any mercy I might have felt. While I could have slain him as well, I was still considering sending a response to the king. 

Jax had arrived last evening riding atop a fourth-tier wyvern, an event that startled the locals and my guards—all of whom reacted as though he were the frontrunner of a beast wave. The beast was an enormous green thing of a grotesque appearance that I had difficulty not frowning when I looked upon it. 

That Jax requested permission to build an aviary in the side of the plateau, a request that came from the Wyvern Lord himself, made me shudder. I politely declined. Seeing one up close was more than enough, I felt no need to see such things every day. I did hint that after his new task of raising as many Mirktallean towns and villages as he could, that he could then go on to raise a plateau for them as well.  Jax only stayed one night for rest and then half the next morning so that he could transcribe the requirements of his new class [Beast Magus] for my library.

Duchess Eiston’s missive was a long, convoluted mess of historical references, treaties, pacts, and overly pretentious poetic ramblings that I spent nearly two hours trying to parse. In summary, King Sena demanded she execute me, and she refused. She then declared the Duchy of Eiston separate from the Kingdom of Sena and formed the Eistoni Monarchy. She used her new title to appoint me a Count and overseer of all magic within the Kingdom—a title and authority I wish she had inquired with me about before granting. She mentioned that the whole of Eistoni, with the exception of the Barony of Broole, was united behind her ascension to Queen. King Sena had not responded well to the new, and a declaration of war was issued.

I was as equally uninterested in the ongoing politics as I was annoyed at the new title. I had no wish for further responsibilities beyond those I chose to take for myself, least of all taking part in any rebellion. It took my two days to formulate as tactful a response as I could, an equally flowery message that could be summarized as stating I would be pursuing magical endeavors of the highest calling and that I wished her whatever fate would provide. 

So, it was to my surprise, that I saw another messenger arrive as the first departed, this one carrying simple news: King Sena was dead. He had thrown himself off a balcony, and his son would be crowned in the coming weeks. This new messenger had been received at the bottom of the plateau where Pyl stood by, dutifully opening and closing the entrance as needed. An older, wiry man this time, who held a mean smile as he shared the news aloud for all to hear as if it were the duchess’s victory. I simply thanked him for the news and bid him return – there was no sense in postponing my plans any longer. 

What had been a warm afternoon quickly changed to storm clouds as I traveled eastward. The dark clouds provided a thick cover of darkness, and the heavy rainfall dampened my mood even if the rain didn’t pass through my wards. The pants I had chosen for this travel stretched uncomfortably around my legs, even though they had been a loser fit with I tried them on. The fabric was rougher as well, and I could only sigh as I realized that it wasn’t any of the other things that had held back my plans of travel. It was my aversion to pants. 

I quickly made my way through the central part of the kingdom, stopping only briefly to raise a monastery or a hidden village I had missed during previous trips—though I circled around Sena City from a good distance. I didn’t know the temperament of the King’s heir, and the fear of ancient artifacts taken from vaults still had me wary. I was more than certain the kingdom’s vaults had weapons from previous wars, especially now that I had seen the powers held within the Tervan jungles. If they didn’t, then the country would never have survived. 

It was half a day after I passed the capital when I first heard the sounds, a rattling of chains from the north that pierced the winds to crawl around in my head. I sensed holy magics in play, a sensation I was more familiar with now that I had seen the Tervan snake-god up close. I could also feel a shift in the air, that followed behind the echoing sounds. For a moment a felt that shackles and direction from another would provide me a sense of safety from the threats of the world, but my wards against mind magic flickered to light, and it was gone just as quickly.  I paused in my flight to choke back the urge to vomit, as such insidious magics would no doubt enrapture weaker minds. 

I turned my gaze northward trying to pinpoint the source as I wondered—did Mena and Meathead fail? They had been granted a quest to stop the Mirktals from summoning their chained god. This power I felt… was it the god announcing its presence or coming into the world? What if they were dead? I had already lost Loralie recently. I found that I couldn’t help but worry, and closed my eyes to focus on a small scrying spell I’d secreted among Mena and Tond’s equipment back when I wanted to ensure they wouldn’t return to banditry. 

In my mind, I saw the five—no it was more now. Tond was laying atop the curving spiral of a Mirtallean building looking into the distance. Mena crouched next to where Meathead sat, speaking hushed tones. I couldn’t make out the words on her lips and my spell only showed me the sights. Behind them, I saw a cloaked form with the robes belonging to a Sister of Elora peaking out from underneath. Leslie was facing a new addition to their group: the fire mage Diedre. That woman had scampered off after the battle of the four—after the battle of Goldcastle without even the courtesy to say farewell. 

Yet, the group didn’t seem in any danger, and I could only hope they would return alive to tell me their quest failed. I wouldn’t pit myself against the Tervan’s snake god, even if there were five of me. I certainly didn’t expect them to beat the Mirktallean god.  Good luck, I wish them as I opened my eyes again. 

I rested for an hour in the air afterward. I don’t normally use scrying spells. Not only is it not a spellform I enjoy constructing, but I find myself opposed to the idea of others looking in on me. What if I were using the chamberpot? No. That wouldn’t be pleasant for either one of us. I preferred not to use that kind of spell at all when I could. It was the antithesis of maintaining a reserved decorum. I would keep my privacy and so should others keep theirs. 

With a nod that confirmed a new promise to myself that I wouldn’t look in on them again, I continued westward into Laxtoni and the settlements on the plains and shores of the duchy.  The storm had only grown more powerful, and I could see rising funnels of water off the coastline in the distance. I had already raised most of the south of the duchy in my last travel, but I could only stay and wait out the storm—who knew if the great winds that my wards protected me from would blow a village right off a plateau?

I was slowly flying about, searching out the villages and towns I planned to raise as soon as the storm abated when, movement in the distant waters caught my attention. It was hard to see in the rain, but I could make out the enormous form of a Hydra Broodmother fighting against some monstrous sea beast.  Something with a toothy maw bigger than I had ever seen. I quickly retreated back westward and away from the coast. The rocky beaches and mangroves giving way to fields of grass and bush and crevasses that—crevasses that weren’t there my last flight this way. Crevasses that looked to be formed as hydra were digging themselves up out of the earth. 

I couldn’t see many, two or three at most, but now that I did see I couldn’t help but be horrified as I grasped what it meant. I launched a few lightning bolts, magic that wouldn’t be seen in the storm, and killed the hydra I could see. Yet, it meant little as more came squirming from the wet ground. This—this was not good. With a new anxious pressure on myself I turned my back from the horrors below and traveled as quickly as I could from village to village and town to town, raising plateaus even as I emptied myself of mana. I had long since disciplined myself to never use more than half if I could help it, but that discipline was gone here. 

Mana fled my body like never before, and I stopped at each place only long enough to cast the spell, tie it off, and move on. I ignored the confused screams and cries of the people in those places as I went. They may never thank me for saving them, in fact they may curse me if the storm blows away their homes, but I didn’t care. Even if it wasn’t my decision to make, I thought it was better for them to die crushed in their own home than to feed the Pestilence and let it grow stronger. 

The final town on my journey north was Laxtoni Bay, a city that was more harbor than buildings. The largest city in the duchy, or it was before Mirktal sacked it. I could see the damage from here, the town mostly empty. Even now, in the midst of a storm, the Mirktalleans were leading townsfolk northwest in long caravans of caged wagons. An entire city enslaved, it seemed. I flew there above them all unnoticed as I considered what I should do and let my mana come back. The wind wailed around me, and in the far distance, monsters crashed. 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 39

Leaves fell around Pyl and me as we walked the curving path that circled my plateau. Some of the trees near the edges of my plateau weren’t taking well to their new elevation and had begun to drop leaves as though it were Autumn already. The wind carried them in curling loops, fluttering about like a flock of silent birds.

The path was well made by my apprentices. The stone path was made to look as though it were well-cobbled so the grooves would provide traction, and a waist-high wall was at the edge to prevent falling. It was only wide enough for a single wagon to travel up and down, a good method to stop all but the smallest hydra from traveling it. 

To my side, Pyl had a gloved hand brushing against the stone face of the cliff, smoothing the surface as we walked. It was at my request that he learned [Earth Manipulation] so that he could move the massive stone barrier at the bottom to allow for traders and the like to come and go. A request he accepted immediately, for reasons that were soon becoming startling clear as he spoke.

“It’s not that I have none of my previous desire, Nemon. It’s that I am now separated from all my emotions. My joys and my hates. My happiness and anger.” Pyl pulled his gloved hand from the tan stone and held it out to me as if an example. “Even the stone that I can see brushing beneath my fingertips doesn’t feel like anything. I feel… nothing at all.”

His words concerned me, and I could only worry at what such a lack of emotion and sensation might do to a man. The end of my staff struck against the stone walkway in time with my steps, and the sound echoed against the rock as we walked, “I see. That must be frustrating to know what something should be like, yet no longer is.”

Pyl shook his head, and I glimpsed a new mask beneath his black robes. It was a wooden thing, painted yellow with dark spots for the eyes and mouth. It looked as though the wood were untreated, and the paint applied in the sloppy splashes a child might make. “No. There is no frustration either, for that is another feeling. Everything just… is. Or was. I can understand now why Loralie and the others would not respond when we called to them through the mirror.”

“Oh?” I might have missed a step when he mentioned her name. I was doing my best not to think of the woman.

“This new body has its merits and demerits alike, yet it leaves me at an impasse. I want for nothing, and have no desire for anything. I could lay in my tomb today and not move for a century, I think. I appreciate you asking me to do this for you, or I know that I should. I think I would stand unmoving without direction. That you continue to try to guide me reaffirms my past belief that you are a good person.”

I ignored his assertation of my moral standing, it wasn’t a topic I wanted to consider any time in the near future. “I was hesitant to ask this of you. Such a duty is beneath you. I fear I have failed to consider that this responsibility was being performed by my assistants before sending them away. Alderman Kine could do this as well, but the man hasn’t been himself since Rhaela’s imprisonment.”

Pyl didn’t respond to my comment and instead placed his hand back on the stone to continue his practice at earth manipulation. Since his change in form, the man would enter and leave a conversation seemingly at random. Something that left me a bit baffled at first, especially when compared against the excitable fellow he used to be. 

It was like this we traveled down the plateau, though I felt a bit impatient at the task. My last assistant, Jax, would be arriving this afternoon. Giving him new instructions was the last item I needed to accomplish before setting out towards Laxtoni and finishing my task of lifting towns onto plateaus—a task I was eager to see completed. 

When we reached the entrance, a massive wall of stone cut across the pathway, its placement still high enough to prevent most creatures or people from climbing the side. I could hear horses and people waiting on the other side.  I looked to Pyl and saw the man was standing next to me without a hint of movement. It was a bit unnerving, and I considered briefly inquiring about the possibility of him pretending to breathe before discarding the thought. 

“Do you think that you can move this much?” I asked instead. He had been practicing the whole trip down the plateau, yet it was a large amount of stone that needed to be moved here. I wasn’t certain how his mana reserves worked in his new body and feared that overexertion might lead to an unexpected true death.

“Not yet.” 

I nodded and ran a hand through my beard as I focused on the spell. The thick stone wall was the height of three or four men, and it had been melded into the cliff face.  Rather than moving the entire wall, I used my [Earth Manipulation] to create a tunnel through it. 

“Ah. I planned to move the entire wall like an enormous door. That is a much better option,” Pyl commented while I worked. 

It didn’t take long before I was done, and four 4th Tier [Knights of Sena] rode through the tunnel first. Their horses looked well-rested, and their armor polished. They brought the scents of oils and metal with them, stronger even than that of their horses. I couldn’t see their faces behind their helms, but their movements contained an excited energy about them. 

“There he is! We can take him now!” The third one to pass through eagerly whispered to the others. 

Behind them, a fifth man called out, “Gentlemen, if I may remind you, that my duty should be carried out first.” 

The third knight looked back and snorted, but it wasn’t long until they were spread out before me. The four men sat atop great warhorses, and each had a weapon drawn and ready. The fifth man to emerge from the tunnel was shorter than the others. He dressed in the colors of a royal messenger, and held a scroll in his right hand that he pressed against his rotund chest. He had a small, well-oiled beard that had been combed so much it lay flat on his face.

“Alderman Nemon Fargus?” he asked with the dignity and tone I would expect.

“I am Nemon Fargus,” I answered curiously as my eyes flicked back and forth between the man and the knights. Each of the knights was of a high enough level to threaten most nobility. A 4th Tier knight was a dominating force on the battlefield, the skills granted by the class designed almost entirely for killing. Not killing mages, in most cases, but normal soldiers couldn’t compete even if fighting twenty to one. 

The messenger sat straighter and with a quick jerk of his hand unrolled the scroll to read it aloud. “By the order of his royal majesty, King Sena, you have been found guilty of refusal of a lawful order, disruption of trade and tax, conspiracy to commit treason, and seven other petty offenses. You are hereby stripped of any noble title, any lands and wealth are to be conceded, and you are ordered to submit yourself for summary execution. Do you submit?”

The man stopped in his reading, and looked around the scroll he held up to see my response. 

Summary execution? Was this a jest? I didn’t imagine that Alred was in good enough condition yet to put together a trick this elaborate. No, something told me this was all too serious, and I would not be submitting life to pay for crimes I didn’t commit. I shook my head. “No.”

The messenger nodded to himself as if he expected as much, and then continued reading. “Then you are declared an outlaw by the king and kingdom. You will no longer be afforded protections under the laws of this land.” 

The messenger rolled the scroll up and turned to the four knights. “Gentlemen, thank you for your consideration.”

The knights needed no further acknowledgment it seemed to charge me with the intent to kill. Polished iron reflected the sun, and their horses breathed heavily as they began to yell. “For Sena!”

I had many options at my disposal to respond, from simply flying away to electrocuting them all, but I found myself a little stunned. Not that I was worried. My wards were strong enough that should they get close they would simply be flung away. I had been declared an outlaw? After all I had done for this country?! Even now, I was preparing to travel for days on end just to cast spells to keep the citizens safe! 

Then, my surprise calmed as I began to piece things together. The King had made peace with Mirktal recently, but I had already received news of that.  That this messenger and these knights were here, meant that he must have sent this message shortly after, but before I had cursed him with Loralie’s spell. It made the feelings of guilt I still harbored about using the curse melt away, and I found myself more at peace with it. 

The Knights were almost upon me, and I pointed my staff in their direction. Chain lightning should work very well on men in iron suits. Yet as I began to manifest the spell, I saw a billowing cloud of smoke, darker than I had ever seen, cover the lot of them. Horses and men screamed, and then I could hear the sounds of bodies falling to the stone beneath us. I looked to the side and saw Pyl standing there with his mask removed.

The smoke, if that is even what it was, was still flowing outwards from his visible skull. It lasted just a moment or two longer before the smoke stopped and began to flow back into him. When the clouds began to be removed it revealed the withered bodies of man and horse, the four knights no longer among the living. I felt a bit uncomfortable at the sight and glanced between it and Pyl. The man had returned his mask to his face with no one else the wiser. I, though, promised myself to immediately update my defensive wards to protect against such magics as soon as I was alone.

Across from us, the royal messenger looked on, his face twisted in fear. Behind him, another messenger arrived, this one wearing Duchess Eiston’s colors. The new messenger was quick to clobber the old in the back of the head with the very scroll he looked to be delivering, before riding forth. He didn’t even look back as the other man slid from his horse and fell to the ground. This new messenger, a young man with a big smile, dismounted from his horse and approached me offering a scroll in hand. 

“I bear a message from Queen Eiston, for you Count Fargus.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 38

I rose from the couch I sat, carelessly knocking down the bottle of wine. For as much as I chastised Alred for taking to his cups to alleviate his grief, I was little better. I had tried burying myself in my research, something that had worked all too well in the past. 

I found breakthroughs in combining [Finger of the gods] and [Heaven’s descent], making my first truly sixth-tier spell. While I doubted a hydra broodmother could survive [Finger of the gods], I knew it couldn’t survive my new spell. I wasn’t certain that the avatar of the blood god could. 

I reworked my own wardings and magical shields immediately afterward. Fearful of this powerful magic falling to an adversary kept me guarded against it. I devised other additional wards that should keep my mind safe against the fear-inducing or hypnotizing effects of the snake god, as well as any other similar type magics. I hadn’t had the opportunity to truly test it, thankfully, but after reviewing it seven or eight times I was acceptably confident in its defense.

I had been in the process of unraveling the stasis spell cast upon the giants when I stopped myself. My normal enthusiasm for my magic wasn’t present. The research and spells I had completed were more dutiful work than exciting discovery, regardless of how well any colleagues might receive them. It was this feeling that caused me to stop and look into myself.

I was not well, not in the slightest. The breaking of the barrels in my mind when I learned of Loralie’s death changed something in me. I hadn’t felt that kind of overwhelming anger for vengeance in a long time, and for good reason. There were many different aspects of myself that I had suppressed for long enough that the piece should have wilted and fallen away. 

I didn’t want to be the type of wizard that was so lost in his pursuits that he gave up entirely on the people around him. It was why I put so much stock into titles. I didn’t want to be Nemon the Merciful any more than I wanted to be called Nemon the Wrathful. The titles given by others were a path that travels both directions. Nemon the Merciful would have every farmer and their sons and daughters at my doorsteps asking for aid. Nemon the Wrathful would close doors to those around me, for fear of offending me. 

I was already known for my pettiness, but so were most of the nobility and other mages. Pettiness itself was almost its own currency in Sena, and I didn’t want to be seen too poor or too rich to my colleagues. Yet, for all being known for pettiness had warranted, I was also known for valorous deeds. I had fought a long battle of attrition against the title ‘savior’ and lost. 

Yet, the titles the citizenry labeled me, how I was known to the masses, was only a small part of my considerations. I was fraying at the edges, I felt. Or perhaps that could be the wine talking. I should have put more enchanted protections in place for the residents of my plateau. With a flush face, I found myself stumbling back to Loralie’s tower for the first time since I had cast her curse. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss her still, but that I had immediately regretted cursing the king. Without question, he deserved it. It wasn’t a question of justice but a question of who I am. I didn’t want to be the type of person that does what I did. Seeing her artifact would only remind me of that.

Yet, my steps carried me forward, into their tower. Instead of up to her old chambers, I headed downwards with a single thought pushing me forward. Perhaps… perhaps I could find her through their mirror. I didn’t know if she had been religious, but nothing in her journal hinted at it. If her soul were in a god’s heaven or hell, then I might not find her. Yet, if it wasn’t, then perhaps I could speak with her once again.  

It was three sobering days later that I found her spirit in the plane of death. She was walking along the outer edges, her form taking the ghostly form of her half-elf body with the wounds from her death remaining visible. I had fallen asleep before the mirror on the floor, like a common drunk. A dismal shame that thankfully no one else witnessed because of the wards I had once placed in Pyl’s laboratory. Still, the shame was something that led me to bathe and eat before returning and beginning my search. 

Pyl himself joined me today, and our combined efforts found success where yesterday, I had failed alone. Yet, I found myself unsettled by the former man. His ritual had placed his spirit in some kind of container hidden from the gods’ sight, and he controlled the frozen and bleached bones from his former body in a macabre way. 

When he first arrived, under the cover of night, I had demanded he wore a robe and a mask to hide his undead appearance. If it unsettled me, it would absolutely frighten the villagers. Even knowing now what was underneath unnerved me. Yet, for all his appearance changed, his personality was still the same as I remembered. 

Loralie’s, however, was not. The image of her ghostly form that we saw through the mirror of death crystals, was nearly hostile to speak with when we first approached. It was only now, on our third attempt that she deigned to speak with us in any manner. Pyl had been shocked at her appearance the first time, used to the illusion of an old crone she had kept while alive.

“Nemon, you fool, why are speaking to me? I have nothing to say.” Her rattling voice echoed around Pyl’s laboratory as if attacking the world itself. 

I straighten my robes, stood at full height, and raised my chin. “There are things between us that lay unresolved.”

“Things between the living have no hold here. Let me be, Nemon.” Her hissing words echoed.

I blinked and pursed my lips. This is not at all what I wanted. I glanced at the monstrous form of Pyl and considered my next words. The unspoken bond between us was not something I wanted to address with him in the room. Instead, I chose another topic, “Loralie, I have used your artifact, I thought you should know.”

“Heedless of my words? I care not! The past has no hold here. Thrice I have rejected you, and there will be no more.” A strum of power flowed somehow through the mirror, granting an eerie sense of finality to what she said.

“Master Nemon, I could pull her to this world, I think.” Green light glowed from Pyl’s skeletal hand. “It would be only once I could do this, and the mirror would break.” 

Loralie’s expression changed immediately, her eyes widened in true startled fear. “No! Pyl, you mustn’t! You don’t know what that would change! That would be the cruelest of fates!”

I shook my head at the man, and the light on his hand faded. “Farewell, then, Loralie,” I called towards her, but she had already turned to resume the same slow walk like the others.

Author's note: I'm sure some of you have noticed smaller recent chapters. This is a side effect of having temporarily gone off outline, and is resolved on/after this chapter. The edited version will likely combine some of the previous chapters for a smoother read. Thanks for sticking with me!

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 37

I sat on my stone chair in the first-floor greeting hall watching the merchant spy Honest Broom depart. He had just returned from his trip north and urgently requested an audience to tell me his findings. The shady brown-haired man was still annoying to deal with, but he must have passed through Gold Castle and reported to his mistress before coming here. This meant that anything he told me was by her direction, and I appreciated that this time I hadn’t been inundated with trivial gossip. Sena had ceded Freetoni to Mirktal in a peace treaty. The war was over.

I tapped a finger on the table as I considered many different matters. Matters that had little to do with the war, but would distract me from the thing that tempted me. A week had passed quickly since I left Pyl in the cold cellar beneath the lake. While I understood his interest in the project and looked forward to seeing the results, I felt the need to put as much distance between it and myself as possible. I would check in with him in a week or two to see how his transition went. 

The two witches and the seer had been buried nearby, more because I hadn’t designated any specific land to be the cemetery, and preferred that any death mana generated by their corpses be contained to that part of the plateau. The only attendees to the burial were the few living residents that remained from Loralie’s tower and my two assistants.

Those assistants were no longer present. I had given them several enchanted items and tasked them with flying north and then heading east to raise plateaus in Furing to save the people living there. I modified two of the dungeon-core artifacts so that they could only be used for raising land and gifted them both bracelets enchanted with wind elementals so that they could fly there. I also cautioned them to spend little time apart given the way that country was organized. The last thing I wanted to do was be forced to go there myself to pull an assistant out of one of their arenas. 

I shook my head, still coming to grips with the fact that the war was over. I hadn’t slept well since returning and found that lack affected my thoughts more than it should. I would flow from project to project and task to task with little attention for the other things that warranted my attention. 

I glanced back at the two statues behind me.

Yesterday, I unpetrified my assistant Orwell to determine if he was aware of the things going on around him. I discovered and noted that he was pitifully aware of everything, and helpless to the boredom of his own thoughts. It was a great disappointment to me, as that meant I wouldn’t be able to use a mass petrification to save people from the Pestilence. 

He was, however, a lot more forthcoming about himself. Orwell confirmed his status as a spy for the King of Sena and told me all about Rhaela the Red and the assassin who killed Loralie in a desperate attempt to save himself from being petrified again. That was, however, a futile attempt. I gave him a small drop of the age-reversing potion, to confirm how it affected the time he was petrified and was pleased to see that he forgot the whole time as he reversed. It made it easy to turn him back into a statue, though I did place him under a sleep spell before petrifying the man again.

Of course, I already knew that Rhaela the Red was a spy. The day I had stepped forth from the frozen beast crypt, the woman had thrown herself at my feet with screams and tears. She’d begged for mercy, claiming that she was first asked to spy with the promise of removing the bounty on her head—a bounty I was unaware of—and then later coerced into moving more spies into my tower under the threat of exposure. Kine had stood nearby looking displeased and disgusted with the whole matter, and I had locked her into the cell outside my laboratory until I decided what I wanted to do with her. 

All these small matters added up to little, though, in face of the End of the Age.  Those hydras squirming forth from the hole I unintentionally created worried me. I’d checked on it every night, and didn’t see an end in sight. It was a constant cycle of emerging, eating their dead, impaling themselves, and then dying, only for the next wave to do the same. 

I stood and began walking towards Loralie’s tower, something I’d done every day since my return. The guards bowed silently as I passed. The elementals in my moat were still and silent. The only sounds I heard were the wind as it whispered around my tower, and the trickle of water as the moat moved. I had already shifted the entrances to the other towers to be inside the circle. A walkway connected them all to my front door so that anyone who entered or left needed to do so from the guarded front gate. 

The sisters of Elora objected to this, of course. Yet a quick reminder that it could be them murdered next, sent them whispering to each other. The dwarves had no issues, though they were strangely silent this week as well. I did see Ram’s wife peek her head out the window once or twice, but couldn’t make sense of her expression. Seeing her, as selfish as it sounds, reminded me of Loralie. 

I found that I missed her greatly, despite not knowing her well. I’d hoped to one day have the partnership between Loralie and me that Ram did with his wife. The green magic spell that would allow us to have children was now a bitter thought instead of a hopeful one. There were moments I even felt full of guilt and self-recrimination. Maybe I didn’t even miss her Perhaps it was the idea of her I missed. The hope of having a true partner died when she did, and I found myself returning to her room even if it was akin to torturing myself. 

At least the war was over now, and I could put more focus on the Pestilence. Yet, I found myself angry. Angry at the King. He’d sent spies and assassins, threats, and more. By the time I made it to Loralie’s room, I no longer held the numb state of mind I’d walked through the previous week with. I’d shoved as much emotion concerning her parting as I could into barrels in the back of my mind, but there seemed to always be more pain and anger. 

Today, when I walked into her room, I didn’t read through her grimoire or the hidden journal she had kept. I didn’t parse through the different magical items on her shelf. I went straight to the artifact she had crafted. Previously I had seen it and been tempted. With my level of magic, justice or vengeance was always at my fingertips. There was something coldly satisfying, though, with the idea of using the thing she created in achieving it. 

That temptation had only grown with each visit, but I had been able to stay my hand each time with the consideration that the many innocent citizens of Sena needed the king in power to stave off the threat of Mirktal. That, even if he was belligerently targeting me for no reason I could fathom—the idea I allied with the Seafolk was laughable at bet—he still served a valuable purpose. That his insults and attempts hadn’t harmed me directly, at least not until the most recent one.

Yet, now I held the triangular artifact in my hand, a meticulously crafted weapon that would curse anyone I directed it to with a powerful spell called [Unending Agony], I found that I no longer had a reason to stay my hand. The war was over. The two kingdoms were at peace. Would I regret using this magic? Was I acting out of emotion when I should think it through? I had pondered it all week, without a firm decision. What would happen to the country if I used this? Would I make things worse or better? 

Yet, I had done so much for humanity already. I hadn’t asked for much in return. This vengeance was something personal that I wanted. Not a good thing, I knew. I also knew that if the king was willing to target me, there had to be so many others that already fell to his devices. New leadership might be exactly what the country needed. Yet, who was I to make that decision? No. 

This was not about the Kingdom of Sena. It was about me and the king. About righting a wrong. 

The war was over. The curse was cast.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 36

I was stunned by the magnitude of the spell I had cast. It hadn’t happened since I learned my first fireball spell and the explosion from it scared me. The mages beside me at the time had faces of excitement and thrill at their newfound ability to cause such explosions, but I was instead frightened at the power at my disposal. I don’t think I had felt that feeling in a long time. The bolt of lightning called forth by the [Finger of the gods] spell was so powerful that it would have killed me had I been any closer.

When the shock of witnessing my own spell faded, so too had my anger. Instead, I felt empty, both of mana and anger. I closed my eyes and looked inside my head pulling back any remnants of the emotions I felt and stuffing them back into the barrels they had come from. I regretted my actions, my carelessness.  The scorched earth around the strike was cleared of all trees for miles around it, and beyond that I could see smoke from growing fires. I glanced down at the corpse of the seer below me and wondered to myself just how far she had seen. 

I was tired and weary, not physically but emotionally. I wanted to retreat back to my tower and throw myself into research to forget about the pain and anger. Hesitantly, I admitted to myself, I also wanted to hide from the shame of my overreaction. But I had a duty to put out those fires before they consumed the countryside. I doubted the circle of smoke would grow to compare to what I did to Tervan, but I was able to learn from my mistakes. 

I flew back towards the strike site, using [Fire Manipulation] to kill the flames, and summoning water elementals to come behind me and smother any embers. Most of the fires were at the edge of the circle of destruction, though some minor ones burned from lightning that had struck further away. I was halfway around the circle, numb to anything that wasn’t the task at hand when I first saw movement. 

The ground at the center of the strike had been blown away, leaving a deep crater in the earth. That crater was blackened and scorched, parts of the rocks and ground had been twisted into smooth rocks, that glimmered like glass when not covered with ash. Yet that ground in the crater began to crumble and fall, as if the earth beneath it had been hollow. In the center, the movement I saw was the head of a great serpent. No, not the head of a serpent.

The heads of a hydra. First one, looking upwards out of the hole to take in its surroundings. Then more.  I recalled the dwarves telling me that they had battled the hydra beneath the earth. With a growing sense of horror, I released what I had done. I had opened a new path for the Pestilence to emerge from. I quickly cast an arcing blade of flames, severing the heads that I could see and waited. I fearfully reasoned with myself. Perhaps it was just the one. A single hydra left behind the swarm, but that was quickly disproved as I saw more heads emerge and heard the sounds of monsters eating their dead. 

I didn’t have the mana to cast the spell again, not at the moment. I had used up all that was in the lanterns I carried, a quarter of what was in the tower, and half my reserves to call forth the spell that killed the assassin. I cursed myself for my hasty actions, regret at allowing myself to be overcome by emotions was verging on self-loathing. Yet, I had to do something and do it quickly. 

I reached my mind back to my tower and began pulling the mana needed to cast the spell in my mind. The earth around the crater was already dead and broken. It didn’t take hard calculations to alter the spell for the field of spikes to turn it into a trap for the Pestilence. Miles of broken dirt and rock soon became enormous deadly spikes that I watch the hydra impale themselves on. It should be enough for any but an armored hydra of a broodmother, but the thought of those two beings loosing the others kept me working. I pulled forth the death crystals I had with me, embedding them into the sharpest and largest of the spikes throughout the enormous field. My lightning strike had generated enough death mana to cause more to grow into the spikes as well. 

When I had finished the great trap, I breathed a sigh of relief. The fires still burned in the distance, but now I saw them as a good thing. Any hydra that escaped this pit would find little nearby to eat. In the center, I watch as the ones that emerged from the hole impale themselves on spikes. Their squirming bodies were quickly set upon by their kin, who were similarly impaled. The dead monsters gave off death mana causing spikes to grow.  

It was already nightfall, and I had done what I could to stem the tide for now. I left an air elemental so that I could check back tomorrow to ensure it was working. Slowly, I returned towards my tower, bringing along the corpse of the seer in a stone coffin for proper burial. Whatever her motivations, she had given her life and saved mine. 

The next day, I visited the Necromancer Pyl. He was the only one who had fought the assassin and survived, though just barely. His weakened body was being cared for at the temple of Elora, though their magics hurt him more than helped. The death mana that he had used in fighting had invaded him, and his control over it was the only thing that kept him alive. Holy magics might heal his flesh, but it weakened his control over his magic. 

Still, the sisters cared for him. I hadn’t been inside the tower temple since it was built, mostly due to my fear of the gods, but I did seek him out to speak with him once I learned that he would be passing soon.  The bottom of their tower held an altar, a few cots, and a long table with chairs. They surrounded their alter with sacred burning candles, the light burning a little more brightly than a normal candle would. Great windows had also been built into the temple, allowing sunlight in from outside. 

My eyes were focused on the man who lay sweating on the cot before me. Pyl, struggled with his pain. His normal cheerful expression twisted into a grimace. He held a hand on the shoulder of the other arm, though that arm was dead flesh. A leg had been removed at the thigh; the cloth bandages soaked with blood.  

“Master Nemon, you are here,” he whispered.

I gave him a nod with a sad smile. It hurt me to see such a man in such pain. I remembered clearly the love of magic that he always kept. A deep enthusiasm that reminded me of my own.  

“I couldn’t stop her. I was too late.” 

His words were spoken with regret or guilt, but I just shook my head. “You did what you could, and that was enough.”

He took several wheezing breathes before speaking again, “Master, I want to do one final experiment. I need your permission. And your guidance.”

My brows furrowed. One final experiment? Did this have to do with the mirror? My thoughts were so far away from the artifact that I’d forgotten about it. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could reach Loralie through it. If her ghost were on the Plane of Death, then perhaps she could offer guidance from the other side. If not, perhaps I would at least be able to bid her farewell. Pyl’s next words though brushed my thoughts away.

“It’s in the crypt beneath your lake. I’ve been preparing for this day, though I thought I had more time. Will you take me there and watch over me?”

“In the crypt?” I asked, puzzled.

He nodded. “It will be my last request. Will you aide me?

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 35

We spoke more as we traveled back towards the gate to my home, casual topics such as slow growth of the plane and transporting earth as well as people. His plan to increase the speed seemed to be the grant of permission to build a tower and hold lands for each mage that contributed a certain amount. Likewise, druids would be granted forests and the like. I managed to speak to him about the inclusion of commoners from the other kingdoms, though we were both against slavery spreading to humanity’s new home. 

I informed him of my progress in lifting plateaus, but also warned him of the threat of the Hydra Broodmothers, something he found equally alarming and fascinating. Yet, for all our small conversations, my mind was awhirl with the possibilities the stasis spell presented. If a spell could convert death mana to life mana, then what about fire to ice? Electricity to water? Could it be cast offensively? Certainly, it wouldn’t be a quick death, but a spell field that caused the effect could be a potential barrier against the Pestilence. The possibilities were many, and in a way, it felt as if I were torturing myself with distractions.

It was after we parted ways at the gateway to my home and I stepped through the portal that I became aware something was wrong. On the other side of the portal, I was greeted with many serious faces. Few could look me in the eyes, but Kine reluctantly stepped forward.

“Master, something horrible has happened.”

That was when they all began speaking at once. I quickly pieced together there was an attack and several deaths. An assassin managed to make it into one of the towers, disguised as a maid. Several guards and mages were dead. Not mages—witches. Pyl injured the assassin, though he was at death’s door. Loralie was dead. The seer was gone, possibly involved as well. Guards and wolves gave chase, but the killer escaped down a prepared rope off the plateau. 

I found myself shaking with emotion. The recent visit with Alred and his grief had weakened me more than I suspected, and left me in a precarious position. Loralie’s death tipped me over that edge. The barrels in my mind creaked and cracked, and I felt myself sinking beneath decades of loss. Waves of emotion frightened me far more than even the eyes of the snake god. Those eyes were that of something unfathomably powerful. This was something that should be within my control but wasn’t.

I found myself howling with anger and pain as I flew above my tower. I summoned air elementals by the dozens and sent them north to find the killer. I envisioned long and painful tortures that I would inflict on the culprit. 

It wasn’t that I loved Loralie. I barely knew her, for all we lived close by for so long. It wasn’t her beauty or death that truly move me. It was the loss of potential. The loss of what she represented. How dare anyone take that from me?! I was so close to having an answer, to finalizing my longevity spell. So close to never being alone again.  

The gargoyles flew around me in a deadly circle. The elementals around my tower and in my lake thrashed about violently. My fifth-tier earth elemental squirmed and convulsed, its tentacles writhing and slapping about in panic. Yet, I didn’t care. Those elementals were tied to my mind, but they were only reacting to a thimble's worth of my pain. They wanted to experience what this world had to offer? I would let them.

By the time my howl had finished, I had hundreds of wind elementals winding through the forests and above glades to the north of my tower. The sight I could see through them was fractured, the different views I could see painful, but I welcomed it. It was a weak pain compared to the waves that racked against me. 

Yet, my attention fell away from the hundreds as one elemental found the seer. The woman, I met only a few times, could scry through blood and peak into possible futures. I never put much stock into oracles, their prophecies had never been relevant to me. And if their powers had truly worked, then why was I the one who warned about the End of the Age? I flew north from my tower to get a better look at what my elemental had found, but when I arrived, I wanted to look away.

Yet, my mind couldn’t look away from her now. Her body sat cross-legged on a stone, with a wooden bowl held between her legs. Her torso had fallen back, and one arm and a finger pointed northeast. The bowl in her lap held blood and intestines, the requirements she needed for her spellcraft, but they weren’t animals’ this time. They were her own. Scrawled in blood on the stone she sat were three words. ‘Ask about Wavecrest’.

Was this another trap? A trick? A plot? Even as I sent more elementals in the direction her finger pointed; I didn’t dare trust it. The pressure of the hundreds I had summoned was beginning to hurt, and I could feel a pain in my head that was building, but I ignored it. The wind elementals flew faster at my demand, and I looked through their eyes in a way that I never had before. 

It felt like my mind was beginning to fracture when I found the assassin. She had hidden in a hollow of a tree to sleep, using a leather cover over the entrance that had been made to blend in. A hiding spot prepared beforehand, and one that I would not have found had I not been pointed in the exact direction by a seer’s dead finger. 

I dismissed many of the elementals as I went. My pain had given over to anger, and my anger guided my actions in a way that hadn’t happened in more than two hundred years. Part of me, a very small part, knew that I would regret anything I did while enraged, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. How many men and women had already died under my care? How many deaths could be laid at my feet? Why did this woman think that she could get away with creating more?

When I caught up to her, she was already running, sprinting away from her hiding spot. A change in command told the elementals chasing her to snatch her into the skies before me and hold her there. I looked over the woman. She was still dressed as a servant, though the clothing was torn and ripped. Her brown hair was a tangled mess. Upon seeing me, she spat in my direction, though the spit was torn away by the wind. 

“Vengeance is ours!  Our god demands retribution!” She screamed.

I simply stared at her, as I slowly realized my face had bent with anger and pain. 

She continued, heedless of anything I might say, “Sena will fall! The entire country will be a slave before our god!” Her voice was growing hoarse with her screams as she continued extolling the northern god and insulting the Kingdom of Sena. 

I ignored it as I struggled against myself. Part of me wanted to kill her immediately. A large part. Yet, I had been here before. I had raged and murdered in the name of vengeance, and that vengeance had been hollow. I knew that it would do nothing to soothe the pain I felt or calm the rage. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill her. Letting her free after she attacked my people was not something I was willing to do. That would just invite more killers. 

No, she needed to die, and I needed it to be a message. My thoughts went back to a spell I had recently learned, the [Finger of the gods]. The spell was powerful enough that the flash would be seen across several kingdoms. I began building up the spell, its complexity higher than the normal lightning magic I used. Clouds began forming high in the sky, each one dark and foreboding. As I worked, a thought came to me, and on the briefest of impulses, I asked.

“Tell me of Wavecrest.”

Her anger and venomous words halted as soon as I said the name. Her face paled and her eyes widened. In detached observation, I noted that it could be an act but I wasn’t certain.

Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Her vitriol continued as if uninterrupted, “Just another village that will soon be chained by our god! Just like the rest of your pathetic country!”

“So, if I smite that village, it is nothing to you? If I leave it for the Pestilence to devour?” I asked though I regretted it as soon as I spoke. It felt as though I was being used as part of someone else’s plan. 

The killer though, changed her words immediately, begging me not to harm the village and promising me anything and everything. She told me it was Sena that gave her orders, and blathered on about how long she worked for them. She told me Rhaela the Red was a spy, and many more secrets fell from her lips. I listened for a while, long enough to see that she believed her words. The names and dates of her previous targets were too detailed to be lies imagined on the spot. 

When she finished, I simply flew away. I ignored her begging me not to visit my vengeance on Wavecrest and the words after were lost on the wind.  When I was far enough away, hovering over the dead body of the seer, I turned about and cast the spell I had prepared. 

A bolt of lightning, bigger and brighter than any I had ever seen or imagined crashed down from the clouds onto the woman. The ground beneath it sprayed into the air, fully grown trees flew away with the dirt and rocks. Lightning, smaller bolts darted between the debris and that ground, before arcing away for miles.

Cracks began forming as if giant daggers were cutting deep into the earth with jagged lines, and I watched as the ground shook afterward, worse than most of the earthquake spells I knew.  Even as far away as I was, my wards still felt battered by stray bolts of lightning. The stray bolts were like hairs from a shedding dog compared to the original.   

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 34

It was a slow, meandering walk back towards his crystal tower, but one that I quite enjoyed. Mostly because the exertion left Alred sweaty and out of breath. It was a petty joy, certainly, but one that was easily added towards the tally of vengeance for his wizard tricks. Skelt joined us, silently walking behind and to the right as soon as we left the forest proper, Alred giving the man only a shallow nod for greeting. 

While I hadn’t yet entered the tower, the entry hall was as grand and pompous as I imagined it would be. Crystalline statues of maidens and young men in somewhat artistic, if garish, poses created a corridor within the round room. The walls themselves were designed as murals that depicted the various adventures and important moments in Alred’s life that he wanted to display towards his guests. Powerful creatures slain, battles being waged, dungeons cleared, triumphs and failures all told of the Planar Lord’s life. I was particularly annoyed at one mural that seemed to show me breathing fire down his neck as he worked to study magic. 

Around us, the robed mages paused to bow low in greeting to the man, but he didn’t even bother to acknowledge their presence. Instead, he focused a conflicted expression on the one or two murals that depicted him with his late wife. I didn’t slow in our walk, not wanting him to distract himself from the goal of showing me the sleeping giants from a bygone age. 

At the end of the corridor of statues, we paused before the archway that led to the spiraling staircase, Alred giving it a grimace and a look of distaste before sharing a knowing glance with me. At the same time, we both cast spells that would levitate us a few feet up the floor and began to traverse the stairs in a hovering fashion. 

Behind us, I heard Skelt struggling to keep up. Alred hadn’t taught him the spell needed to travel this way, though I could only offer suspicions as to why. On the stairwell, other mages that were going up and down would pause and move to the side as Alred passed. The doorways that led off to different floors showed me a multitude of quarters, meal halls, libraries, lecture halls, laboratories, and more. Magic workings of many different types were wrought in great numbers, even this early in the morning

If I had to place a number, I imagined there to be at least three hundred mages housed in his tower, more than I had seen in any place that wasn’t one of the academies. That he gathered so many was noteworthy. That he gathered so many to work for him was extraordinary. I didn’t envy the man his position, though. I wouldn’t want that responsibility interfering with my own research. I did note a few interesting applications of spells that I hadn’t considered before, even though they were too low tier to make an immediate difference in the world at large. 

Yet, it was when we reached the top of the tower that all my thoughts and considerations fell away. I was dumbfounded by what I saw. Behind us, I could see clearly into the void. Easily, I recognized other planes that circled the world like the one we were on. Crystal benched had been wrought around the tower’s top, and we weren’t alone. Other mages sat or stood and whispered to each other their observations. Yet, none of that was what caused me to hold my breath. It was the giants. 

The top of the tower was maybe the height of three men above the top of the quartz cliff. But on that quartz cliff was an enormous flat shelf filled with the sleeping forms of giants. Not any kind of giant that I had imagined, either. I had pictured a giant to be an elf as tall as my tower. I knew humans pictured them as large humans, three or four times the size of an ogre. Yet true giants weren’t those at all. Each one was the size of a mountain itself. Their sleeping bodies rested in great mounds that made even the Tervan’s snake god pale in size.  Four enormous clawed legs. Bodies covered in giant spikes. A face that held a long, thin snout. It was preposterous and alarming to consider. These giants were some relative to a porcupine or a hedgehog. The mountains full of giant ants struck me now as something I should have considered more. 

Even greater than these giants was the domed spell that kept them in their slumber. A spell that could easily cover the entirety of Sena. Maybe all of the five kingdoms. I could see in the working the hints of many different types of magic. A powerful sleeping spell, a barrier that contained all within it and prevent anything from entering. More than that, I saw the spellwork that took death mana from the sleeping giants and converted it to life mana. What looked like time magic, as well, though I wasn’t entirely certain. This spellwork held complexities beyond what I ever thought or seen. 

I withdrew my tome and began to write, both my observations and the intricate spell forms that were used. I sat on one of the many benches that had been placed around the rooftop solely for gazing at the giants. While I couldn’t possibly power such a spell without the holy magic of the gods, I didn’t need to. This sleeping spell, that kept them alive, was the Statis magic that my tower crystal had asked for only a couple of years ago. That told me it was possible for mortals to cast such a spell and had done so before. If I could pull it apart to see how it worked, the piece that converted death to life could be the answer to the Longevity spell I had sought after for so long!

I was so enraptured in my writing and analysis that I didn’t hear Alred depart. He must have, because he was coming back up the stairs when his words interrupted me, “Still at it?”

I had already finished transcribing the spellwork, and had been studying the patterns to see if I could comprehend it when he spoke. With a glance up, I gave him a pleased smile. “This might hold the answers I’ve been working towards for a long time.”

“The slumbering spell? Aye, I considered looking into it as well. I thought if I could master it in time, I could put Natali to sleep until I had a cure. She didn’t want that.” Alred shook his head. “She wanted to do her damn ritual and ‘return to the soil’. I—she, she could be so hard-headed at times. It was part of why I loved her.”

“Loved? Have you stopped?” I asked, quietly.

“No. And I don’t think I ever will. Not in this lifetime. Yet, she’s all I can think about. Like a bird constantly pecking at my head,” Alred confided in me as he came to sit down on the bench beside me. “What do I do, old friend? I don’t think I can live without her.”

I nodded sympathetically and stroked my beard before answering. I knew the question was rhetorical, but that didn’t mean that I could let his words lay unanswered. “You work. You work on the dream you and she had. You work to save as many as you can. Because, for all the pain you feel now, how many others will feel the same if you don’t? Yes, it’s a sacrifice, but this is the end of the Age and we all must work or we will all die. If you can’t do it for anyone else, do it for Natali.”

My words hung in the air, the chatter of other mages that had been in the background for as long as I had been up here fell away to a heavy silence. I hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, so adamantly, but I had. I regretted speaking my words immediately. Not the message or the tone, but that I had more audience than just Alred. I wished I had more time to prepare my words, to select each one specifically so that they would echo further or carry Alred’s motivations higher. However, that was just one more tiny regret and I shoved the emotion away. 

Instead, I filled myself with determination. How hypocritical would I be to deliver such words and taskings unto my friend and not apply myself equally? No. I had visited long enough. I made my decision. It was time to return to my tower. I stood up, tucking away the tome I had been holding and offering a hand to my old assistant. I could tell from the look on Alred’s face that he understood, both my words and what I intended by standing up. 

We might not see each other again, but so long as we carried on in our work, that too was a sacrifice we were willing to make.