Allanther

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 33

I found Alred snoring in a bed, filthy and surrounded by bottles of wine. Some bottles were empty, and others were half-full. I could see a couple had been flung at a wall and shattered. The one still grasped in his hand was tilted and slowly making a puddle on the bed, one which the man slept through unnoticed.

My former assistant looked drained. As if all the vitality in his body had been pulled away by a parasite. I stroked my beard in thought as I took in these sights, only interrupted once by a nervous serving boy who seemed both relieved and wary of my presence. 

“Alred,” I called softly. Then again three more times in growing volume just to confirm that he was in a state of deep slumber. He was, though my voice did attract two more servants, who held the same expression as the first. 

“Clear away all the bottles. Lord Froom is not to have another drop of wine for three seasons, no matter what he says. No wine, no ale, nothing of the sort.” I gave the command as if were lord here, but only the first servant gave me a questioning look. I answered the looked with a snort, “It is by his own command that you do this. Shall I offer proof? Alred, speak now if you don’t want your servants to carry out your last command.”

My former assistant, naturally, said nothing. I sat in a chair nearby, one of the few other pieces of furniture in the bedroom, and withdrew the tome I had to work on combining the lightning spells. It was nearly completed, and only a handful of possible mistakes could cause it to fail. Possible, because without testing, I wouldn’t know if they were correct or if they required adjustment. What I could do, though, was work through the other stages of the spellcraft to add in components to shield it from interruption and prevent backlash. With the volume of mana invested in such a spell, backlash from it would result in the death of anything that wasn’t a lightning elemental. 

“Wine!” It was the small hours of the morning when Alred finally awoke from his deep slumber, calling immediately for wine instead of food. His cracked voice was a yell that had all three servants rushing into the room to stand there awkwardly, though the man didn’t even notice their arrival. His face was still red, and his eyes didn’t track anything. 

“Wine!” he called again, a hint of anger in his voice.

They stood at the entryway, looking at each other nervously, before glancing at me. I nodded to them, something that must have bolstered their courage, and one answered Froom’s, “My lord, you ordered us not to give you wine yesterday.”

Alred’s eyes slowly came into focus, as confusion momentarily replaced the anger on his face. “I did? Bah! Now I order you to bring me wine.”

Again, those three servants looked to me for guidance. I bit back a sigh, and raised my chin to speak, “Alred.”

It took a bit of a struggle for the man to prop himself up on his elbows and finally notice my presence. “Master Fargus?” 

“Indeed. I arrived at your cabin three days ago at your invitation. You greeted me in such a state of drunken shame that you swore off wine for an entire year and immediately collapsed into slumber. Do you not recall?” I lied, smoothly and calmly. Perhaps I should have been honest, but the man had something to do with naming the Battle of the Four Couches. This was only the beginning of my vengeance for that. 

“No,” he answered and then mumbled more to himself, words of half-finished thoughts. Eventually, his wine-addled mind settled on bitter anger. “Well, now you have arrived and seen the wizard, the lord, Alred Froom in all of his greatness!  You can leave.” He waved a hand in my direction as if shooing me away.

“No,” I said firmly.  I watched as the rejection sank into his head, and he sat straight up to look at me. His face was twisted into a mask of anger so foul that I wished I had hired a painter to capture the sight to taunt him with in the years to come. 

“No?!” Alred’s breath became heavy, and his eyes bulged from his face.

I ignored the theatrics to subtly motion for the servants to depart, something they seemed eager to do. “No,” I said again, just as firmly as the first time.

“I am lord here! The first planar lord! All of these lands are mine! I have spells that will send you spinning off into the great void! You will depart or I will make you leave!” His voice had become a shout that thundered through the bamboo cabin.

I appraised the man. Spells that would force a person off the plane? I hadn’t seen anything of that sort in the tome he provided. It sounded more like the type of threat one gave to an unruly noble to stay their hand and force their behavior. Still, if a spell like that, one tied to a location existed, then I would be very interested.  Regardless, “You’ll be casting no spells in that condition.”

“I…” his voice trailed off and his anger fled as he seemed to realize his state. Then, as if a bottle shattered, he began to cry. Not just cry, but unreservedly sob. His words came out in bits and pieces between wails of pain, an ugly sight that I had to school my face against. “I—She is gone! She left me! Turned—turned herself into a tree! A thrice-damned tree!  I—I—I, it’s not right!  I want her back. She was my only…” 

I waited for more, but the pain he felt was so great his emotions overcame his actions. Softly, I spoke, “A tree you say?”

“Aye! A tree!  What use have I with a tree?! I go and sit and look at her sometimes, Nemon, and wonder why.” 

“Care to show me, old friend?”

An hour later we sat on a bench before the oak tree I had seen looming over the forest. Great boughs lifted high into the sky, and it was truly a wonderful tree to behold. Beside me, Alred once again slept, his head leaning against my shoulder. I had refused to depart until he spelled himself clean, so the stench of wine wasn’t in his clothes. Though, that didn’t help the smell of his breath as he snored. Luckily, the forest itself was alive with the smell of flowers and plants. 

It had been a long time since I had simply sat and not worked on something. It was almost an uncomfortable feeling to not be productive, but I didn’t want to wake Alred. He seemed to need a more restful sleep than the kind that drink forced. 

At first, my thoughts were on the words of conversation that took place when we arrived. He described the spellwork used to change her, a druidic ritual. I could still see the telltale signs of it in place. It was still an unfortunate thing to see. I knew what happened when a mage changed themselves into an animal. The mind of the animal wasn’t large enough to contain the mind of a human, and the result when returned to their humanity was not a pleasant one. 

To change into a tree was assuredly worse in my mind. There was no chance that her mind remained. In fact, I don’t recall any trees that possessed an organ like a brain, though it was something to research later. If there was one, then perhaps longevity by transformation could be possible in that fashion. 

Alred had also briefly mentioned the tomb he had created in the crystal beneath the tree. One he had prepared for himself when he departed. While it was a bit morbid, I did approve of the idea. It’s much easier to deal with the bodies of those who die when they make their own arrangements beforehand. Provided that they can afford their arrangements. 

I recalled a time or two when a Master at the Arcanum had requested an elaborate burial more fitting a national hero, and didn’t have the coin in their estate to fulfill their request. The first had been easy to deal with, as they didn’t have any relatives. The second, that an unpleasant situation where some of the remaining family wanted to grant the Master their wish, and another part wanted a simple burial so that the estate could be divided between them.  I had to summon a priest to deal with the matter, as it was so outside my purview that I was tempted to simply electrocute them all. 

Beyond that, my mind continued to wander down thoughts forgotten and distant memories, and I allowed it to do so until it arrived at the barrels in the back of my mind. Something I knew would occur, as Alred’s immense grief was sure to lead me to my own. The barrels were many and seemed only to grow in time. Yet, I was able to find one or two small ones in the back. People that I wasn’t as close to from when I was much younger. 

I would peek inside, tentatively at first, before opening them up and recalling. Hours passed like this, and more than once I found myself unwillingly shedding tears. Finally, Alred awoke and seemed to be thinking more clearly than he had been. A guilty expression passed through his face, and a shamed one from falling asleep, but I ignored it as I stood and stretched. 

With my back to the man, I asked, “As I arrived at your invitation, I assume there is something you wish to show me?”

“Oh yes!” I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. “Would you like to see the giants?”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 32

I didn’t know what to expect when I stepped through the gateway behind Alred’s three apprentices, but we entered into a long hall inside a building made entirely of quartz. Around the walls, I could see other portals, larger than the one I crossed opening and closing as they allowed all sorts of people and animals to cross. Most were coming through, bringing people and goods who formed into a herd that headed out in one direction—an empty space that appeared as though an entire wall had been removed. The bustle of noise from talking, children crying and animals braying was more than unpleasant.

Before me, the two other of Alred’s apprentices, a pair that I hadn’t met before today, set off in the same direction as the crowd. Those apprentices had arrived at my tower earlier this morning with a large supply of carved quartz and proceeded to construct the gateway. I had watched them for a while, to see how they enchanted the thing, but it wasn’t anything I didn’t recognize. The tome Alred had gifted me on the topic covered more complex spellcrafting pieces.

Behind me, two guards from my tower came through and gawked in wonder at the scene. A quick glance had them discipline their faces and take a position to either side of the gate to my home. My tower might be well-defended, but I hadn’t placed any defensive wards on any of the surrounding towers or village yet beyond fortifying the stone from monster attacks. I had more guards than needed, and few monsters would be able to climb the plateau’s cliffs. That, in combination with my fifth-tier elemental, could hold against an army. They were well enough defended. 

With an approving nod to the guards, I turned and followed Skelt against the flow of the crowd until we reached a curving staircase in a back corner. Skelt began speaking as we descended, leaving the crystalline building and walking away, “Lord Froom has designated this building to receive all newcomers.” 

I nodded my head. The stairs descended into a tunnel made entirely of quartz with magical lanterns on the walls. The walls to either side weren’t clear, but I could see the foggy outlines of others moving along similar corridors. Sometimes, I could also hear the muffled noises of their conversations, but rarely could I make out a word of what was being said. 

Skelt continued speaking, “We are headed towards his tower and then on towards the cabin in which he has been residing.”

“Oh? He allows others access to his tower?” I raised an eyebrow.

Skelt shook his head. “Not anyone. Just his disciples and direct staff. Commoners and others have a petitioners’ hall, though I don’t think he has stepped foot inside. His seneschal, Marrik, has been presiding there since our arrival.”

“Yet you can bring guests into his tower? That is a lot of trust.” I remarked.

Skelt nodded, “It is, and that’s one of the reasons we all follow Baron Froom so diligently. Even if that has been more difficult of late. We carry on the tasks he’s already assigned us: growing the crystal of the plane, bringing those who would come, transporting dirt and plants, but without his leadership, it all falls to me. And I am…” Skelts voice trailed off as he winced and shook his head. He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.

I nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. The man was maybe in his mid-twenties. To task him with the logistics of organizing the exodus of mankind from Sena was a lot to ask. I took a moment to parse my thoughts as we walked in silence before continuing the conversation.

“I take it that all is not well in these taskings?”

He chuckled sardonically. “The mages that grow the plane are too slow and we are crowding. Without the additional lands, we cannot bring more plants. Yet people still arrive daily. We have an entire portal built beneath a lake near Eiston, but nowhere to bring the waters. If the druids weren’t working day and night, we’d have all died from bad air months ago. Every day is another problem, and many problems lay unresolved until they grow from seeds to trees.”

“When you speak of growing the plane, what do you mean?” It was a curious turn of phrase.

“Beneath us is quartz. On much is the loam and sand and dirt we can bring in from Sena, though we can only bring in so much at a time. Druids work to grow plants and rot wastes to make the land. Master Froom gave all of us disciples the spell to grow the crystal, though it is a boring and taxing spellwork. The mages assigned to it tarry often, even knowing what is at stake.”

I tried picturing it in my mind but found it difficult. I put the thought to rest, deciding to revisit it when I could see examples of that which he spoke.  Instead, I turned over the problem of lackadaisical mages in my head, considering various punishments and rewards that might motivate dreary work.  We fell into a companionable silence as we walked, both lost in our thoughts until we reached the end of the tunnel. 

It exited out into a small guardhouse with a warded door. The ward was simple but strong, and, while I would have no problems unraveling it, I didn’t need to. With a single gesture, Skelt disabled the ward long enough for us to pass through the doorway. The guards saluted us as we continued out of the guardhouse and into the plane proper. I stopped on the steps leading down from the guardhouse and gasped in surprise. I wasn’t certain what I had expected the plane to look like, but the view took my breath away.

The skies above us were neither day nor night, and completely unlike any skies I had ever seen. My journey into the Plane of Nature had not prepared me for it, as the plane had multiple layers of canopy that blotted out anything but the barest hint of light from above. Here, I could see the vastness of the void, and the ringed plates that made up the other planes, all circling about the world I was from. A world that looked so tiny from here, I could only make out the lands, clouds, and oceans. 

To either side of us, rose walls of quartz several hundred men high. It reminded me of the great canyon the hydra had come from, but the walls were higher still. Buildings of quartz were all around us, many seemed to be as if they were enormous crystals themselves, hollowed out to house those that lived inside. I could see people moving about in each, though they appeared as jagged shadows against the foggy crystalline walls. 

Yet, before me was an even greater building than I had ever seen. A tower so beautiful that made me ashamed of my own. Clear crystal, like perfect ice or fine glass, formed a spiraling structure that stood taller even than the walls of the plane. The outside was patterned in triangles and other geometric shapes so that it reflected the light of the plains in thousands and thousands of tiny, twinkling reflections. Inside was a spiraling staircase that let up and around the building, and I could see Froom’s disciples going up and down the staircase. Behind that staircase was an inner crystal tower, its walls fogged beyond what anyone could see through. 

This building was worthy of one of my apprentices. Hundreds of mages must have worked diligently to create it, the craftsmanship alone enough to give wonder to anyone first seeing it. I hadn’t before considered using my grow crystal spell to construct a tower, but couldn’t stop myself from imagining the possibilities now. Diamond or ruby, sapphire or emerald, each one represented a new design that flitted across my mind like I was running through a corridor of paintings. 

I kept my composure though and gave my guide a bored expression, “A little gaudy. He always did seek to impress.” 

Skelt, wisely, didn’t respond. He continued to lead me the distance around the great tower and down a crystal street towards a massive forest. Above the forest rose a massive tree, standing nearly half the height of the tower we passed.  The buildings to either side were rather opulent, though, and I could see the minor nobility had reacted to Froom’s tower as if it were the capital. I could sense first-tier wind elementals moving the air back and forth above us.

There weren’t many people out and moving, but we walked in a near silence that allowed me to hear the words spoken by the few that were present. Women discussing new fashion. Traders and merchants compared the prices of different types of dirt with surprising viscosity. Based on the prices discussed, it appeared that most things were worth less than dirt here. 

As we approached the forest, buildings fell away from view to leave a plain of wildflowers and shaped thickets that housed druids. The very last building we reached was a cabin that appeared to be made from living bamboo, each stalk twisted and shaped into the walls of a home. 

Skelt stopped nearly an entire field away from the cabin and gestured towards it. “Master Froom is inside, though I don’t know his state. He’s forbidden anyone from nearing it except the servants than bring wine.” 

It was clear to me that Skelt wouldn’t be guiding me any closer, and my first thought was to consider this a possible trap. Yet, I could sense Froom’s magic style on the wards of the cabin, and couldn’t picture the man not being present. With a smile of gratitude towards my guide, I began walking closer. It was time to see how my former apprentice was doing.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Interlude 3 of 3 - Loralie

I watched Nemon leave the laboratory with a smile, one that turned bitter when he left. Grena and Pyl were both continued on in their discussion of the mirror, questions that the wizard had brought up to push them in a new direction. I almost allowed myself to be baited into it as well, the artifact we had created was as interesting as it was novel. I snorted and shook my head.

He was so arrogant and self-centered. I spent weeks working from dawn to dusk on altering that curse and he hadn’t even bothered to ask me about it! It was ungrateful. I left the others behind as I walked the halls of the tower to my laboratory, a den of witchcraft more furnished than I had ever used before. 

Shelves and tables stocked full with all I could ask for and more. Grimoires of other witches, borrowed from the wizard’s library, held rituals that opened my eyes to many things. In the center of the room, a pedestal holding up the artifact that Nemon had asked for. I had gone beyond his request, to adapt the hex to work with his tower. I had made it an artifact that anyone with the knowledge and the mana could use. Eight small copper pipes, no bigger than twigs, came together to form a pyramid. The panels between them were hardened gemstones, each painstakingly cut with the needed runes to activate it. 

I huffed and swiped my hand knocking it to the floor. The ungrateful ass. I did it at his request, and he hadn’t even thanked me for it! Did he think it was easy? Witchcraft isn’t like magecraft, our spells are almost entirely rituals! What other woman would curse a king without asking for payment? Did he think the soft mattress in my room, and the shelter within a side tower were enough for my work?! 

Well, it wasn’t. He might be half my age, but he was not a human that didn’t know better. I left the artifact on the floor as I went to sit at a table to read more from one of the grimoires that I found. A [Shadow Witch], who had a large number of small hexes and curses that only worked during the night. While her spells were interesting, the little passages she wrote about her life on the back of each page were more. 

She lived for a long time as a slave of Mirktal before escaping into the sewers beneath their city. She lived underneath them for longer than she was a slave before she was eventually found and fled to Sena. A silly thing to want to read, but it presented a lifestyle I was both familiar with and one that was completely unknown to me. Rather than sewers, I had retreated to the wilderness, a [Forest Witch]. 

I read for the rest of the evening, under candlelight, and then on into the next day with heavy eyes. Nemon was departing again today, and that meant the bath in his tower would be free to use, something that I relished. Yet, even with that promised comfort, I continued to read. The witch’s story spoke to me in a way that I hadn’t realized I needed.

I was so engrossed in the woman’s story that I didn’t notice the next day had slipped by until a servant arrived to deliver the evening meal. It was odd, as normally they knocked before entering, but when I looked the woman who carried the platter wasn’t the normal serving girl.  I greeted her with a smile, something so that the peasant wouldn’t feel as scared of the old witch, and reached for a glass of fine wine.

The wooden cup was halfway to my mouth when I felt the sharp pain of a knife. Knives. One stabbing and the other a circular cut that would have sliced my throat open. Instead, they stabbed into the back of my thigh and cut my leg open.

With horror, I looked back at the servant and slide off the chair away. The woman looked at her knives in puzzlement and then back at me, as if to ask how I was still alive. I had few spells to cast to defend myself with, not if I wasn’t in a forest. I cast the first that came to my mind, a poison bolt. Its green light flashed from my hand and flew the few feet between us to strike the woman in her chest.

I saw her stagger back, and then smile at me. The poison had no effect, and it wouldn’t surprise her again. I cast another spell, Whithering Limb. The killer jumped to the side out of the way, and it splashed uselessly against the wall. I wasn’t prepared for a fight. Not here. Instead, I scrambled out of my laboratory and down the stairs. In my mind, I could only think of Pyl’s laboratory and the wards the wizard had set up. If I could make it, I would be safe.

The woman, this killer, didn’t let the happen. I was at the doorway to the room when I felt the knife enter the back of my thigh again. This time I screamed as she twisted it before pulling it out. I stumbled forward and fell. Yet, I wasn’t dead, not yet. I crawled forwards, inching away. 

That was when Pyl and Grena turned the corner, looking down at me in shock. Pyl was the first to react, throwing a bolt of some kind of dark energy towards the woman. Grena leaped forward and grabbed my arms to pull me back, but I knew it was too late. The last knife used had been poisoned, and I felt it working as my legs and back grew numb and cold. 

“Run you fools!” I screamed at them. Or tried to. The words became a gurgle in my mouth, the poison tightening my throat. 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 31

Inside Pyl’s laboratory, I was surprised to see that both Loralie and the other witch, Grena, were already present. He had redesigned nearly the entire room after our last meeting here, and I was pleasantly surprised at the level of organization I saw. The bones had all been sorted into different bins, stacked atop one another with clear labels. The death crystals were also sorted by size, with stone shelves cut into the alcove that had been created. He had a small library of tomes and scroll, some of which I recognized as material borrowed from my own library, all neatly organized. His table, the one he experimented with undead on, had been moved to the side of the room, where it now lay empty.

The biggest change in his laboratory, however, was an oval-shaped mirror as tall as a man. The frame of the mirror was entirely made from death crystal, and as I approached it, I realized that it didn’t have glass or silver at all. The flat, reflective surface of the thing was also made from the death crystals, though I could see complex necromantic enchantments and layers of witchcraft that created what should be a window. Yet, the mirror’s magic lay still and unmoving.

“Wizard,” Loralie and Grena greeted one after the other, and I realized that I had walked across the room to inspect the mirror without proper courtesy.

Chagrinned, I greeted them in return, “Ladies, a pleasure. It appears you three have been hard at work.”

Loralie’s real face smiled at me, while her illusionary form, that of an old crone, huffed and began to berate me. Grena, quickly moved to stand beside her, and bowed her head once, “Lord Fargus, please forgive the old witch. She does not mean ill by her words.”

I glanced between Grena, the illusionary crone, and then Loralie, noting that Loralie’s face was full of barely-contained mirth. I was tempted to smile as well, but wiped it from my face as I stroked my beard. When I felt it contained, I stuck my nose in the air and answered her, “Yes, well, I apologize for my rudeness. I will do no such thing for another’s.”

I could see the real Loralie’s stomach shake and her head bobbed up and down as she laughed silently. Her illusion sputtered and then went to using foul words to insult my lineage, much to Grena’s horror. Pyl, for all his excited talking on the way here, was notably silent and busy looking elsewhere a little too deliberately.  Yet, as much as I wanted to continue to play Loralie’s game, I just shook a finger in her direction and turned my attention back to the mirror.

“So, it is complete?” I inquired.

Pyl, seeing his opportunity, jumped back into the conversation with a renewed boisterous volume, “It is! We are able to not only view the Plane of Death, but speak to those within it! There are several safeguards both within the mirror, and on the plane itself that prevent passage through either side. I am currently working on a solution that would allow us to call forth and bind the dead to this world, but it is no easy task.”

 Both Grena and Loralie grimaced at his last sentence, but neither said anything.

“I see,” I answered the man as I pondered the workings. Some of the spellwork was unknown to me. I could see the wards implanted into the mirror, as well as the magical barrier on the other side. Calling the dead to this world didn’t seem as though it would be a good idea to me. The soles on the Plane of Death had been placed there by the gods, and my recent encounter left me even more hesitant to risk attracting negative attention.  

After a moment of silence, I inquired at the few different magic workings that I wasn’t familiar with and soon we were all discussing how the mirror was constructed. I was fairly confident that I could make my own in the future, so long as I had a witch to case the few parts that were within their realm of expertise. I could research replacement spells for their magic, but why spend the two decades to do so if finding a witch was so much easier? 

Yet, as I considered it further, my reticence to research different versions of those spells was unlike me. I noted it, but didn’t think any further on the topic. It was only after an hour or two of us discussing it, that I asked, “So, has it already been used? To speak with a loved one?”

The three others in the room went silent, before Pyl scratched the back of his head, “Well… there are a few stumbling blocks.”

“Stumbling blocks?” I asked it with as neutral a tone as I could manage.

Pyl responded, “The dead—the dead aren’t interested in speaking with us. There is nothing we can give them, nothing they want. A few are willing to speak out of boredom, but for most our words distract them from their eternal toils.” 

Loralie spoke next, her words filling the otherwise silent room, “We have found that not all dead are there, either. If they worshipped a god, then they went to that god’s domain. If they served the god well, they go to its heaven. If they didn’t serve well, or angered a god, they are sent to one of the hells. The plane of Death is for nonbelievers.”

“Hmmm,” I answered as I thought about the issue aloud. “There is nothing we can offer? No chance to speak with a loved one? News about the world? They have no need for—no, I imagine they wouldn’t.” 

“This is one of the reasons I hoped to pull a spirit to this world and bind it. It would have no choice but to share ancient secrets,” Pyl said as he rubbed his hands together like he anticipated a delicious meal. I took note that his ambitions had recently increased, but held my tongue in front of the witches. It was something to address if we had a moment alone. 

“Even if we cannot bargain with the dead, I would like to see how the mirror works. Have you thought of a name?” All good magical items deserved a name. If they needed one, I could name it well enough. The Sovereign Planar Communique of Death-Crystal Reflection, perhaps.

“We spoke at length on that before we decided to call it the Dead Mirror, Lord,” Pyl said with a smile. I glanced at the two women beside him, who both nodded along. 

I pressed my lips together, so as not to voice my disappointment at the poor naming convention, and waved for them to show me how the mirror worked. 

Grena move to one side of the mirror, and pressed a hand onto the crystal frame, her eyes closed in concentration. What I thought would be another spell, or a control word woven into the existing spellcraft wasn’t there. Surprisingly, it only needed an infusion of mana to operate. Then, as that mana went through the death crystals and along the enchantments, the mirror slowly began to glow an unholy purple color. Mana swirled through each crystal that bound the reflective panel, growing stronger and thicker until it shined onto the surface and our reflections faded away.

What replaced our images in the mirror was the view of a different world. The view began from above, showing a ground made of jagged black crystals, no different than that of the mirror. Ghostly apparitions of people, monsters, and beasts they trudged in a giant parade that moved in a continuous circle, like an enormous wagon wheel moving. Our view fell slowly from the sky over the Plane of Death, until we were level with the ground. I could see the ghastly faces of the dead walk past with no regard to our presence.

I was no stranger to ghosts and wraiths. Angered spirits that refused to move on had been something I fought against as an adventurer and researched briefly at the Arcanum. Yet, these spirits were different from those that I had seen before. There was something more substantial about them, even if they offered no immediate threat. 

Those spirits weren’t the only things we could see there, either. Many other stranger creatures existed on that plane. Things that I had no name for and the very sight of made me shudder. I didn’t know if my magic would be of any use in fighting them off, but was secretly relieved when they seemed equally uninterested in the mirror.

The four of us watched and discussed what we were seeing for several hours. We tried everything we could think of from illusions to resemble the dead, to bribes and offers, to outright insults and yet were unsuccessful in speaking for more than a moment or two with one of the spirits we saw. It was both exhilarating and frustrating at the same time. Yet, as all things were, it eventually came to an end. The mana provided by the witch Grena faded, and we agreed that we had no additional need for the mirror at the moment. 

Before I departed, I placed several powerful wards in the laboratory to prevent anyone beyond the four of us from entering, and anything from escaping beyond. The mirror was a wondrous item, to be sure. It was also a dangerous one, in my opinion. I had seen more than spirits when I was looking into that mirror. It wasn’t that I expected their own wards to fail, it was that I feared it. For magic of this nature, there were many things we didn’t know, and I didn’t want to risk even the slightest oversight. 

It had been a long day today, and a long time since I fully rested. If I were to be following Baron Froom’s disciple to travel to another plane on the morrow then I wanted a bath, a good meal, a glass of wine, and a restful sleep.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 30

For four days I searched the doorways of Lightning magic from the comfort of a couch and with a glass of wine in hand. I knew how I appeared to the others, a wizard sipping wine and gazing blankly as if I had no concerns at all. I found and learned several powerful spells, though whoever had created them had given them presumptuous names. 

[Heaven’s Descent] was a fifth-tier spell that called nearly three dozen lightning strikes to hit the earth. It wasn’t the ideal spell, as it was nearly impossible to designate a particular target, but an area was feasible. Against a sea of hydra, it would do wonders. The truly magnificent part of the spellcrafting in it was how it was constructed. The framework was created in a way that I could pour as much mana as I wanted into it, and the result would be more bolts summoned. This placed it potentially much higher than the fifth-tier. The downside was that it could only be used once a week at most, as it pulled on the natural forces of lightning in an area and left it dry afterward.

[Finger of the gods] was another fifth-tier spell, an improved of [Call Lightning], which summoned one singular powerful lightning strike on a chosen place. It was five times as powerful as call lightning because it was essentially five casts of the spell woven together. The name, though, left much to be desired.  

I had been in the process of extracting the framework that weaved the bolts together from the latter and trying to apply them to the former in the hopes of being able to make my own sixth-tier spell. While the doorways provided by my Authorities were excellent showing me existing magics, the spells I could view were limited to only the fifth-tier. I didn’t know if that would change if I ever ascended to the sixth-tier, but I held hopes it would.

Yet, my research, still incomplete, was interrupted by my seneschal, who was wearing a new tunic and trouser set of yellow that matched the robes I hadn’t changed in four days. In fact, now that I considered it, it also matched the robes my apprentices wore and I had seen much more yellow in the clothing of those whom I had met with when I returned.

With a bow, his words brought me back to the present, “Pardon the interruption, my lord. There is a guest who arrived claiming a matter of utmost urgency.”

The interruption was an annoyance, but I didn’t expect my seneschal to interrupt for me just any random villager, “Who is the guest?”

“A mage claiming to work for Baron Froom.” 

I sighed. Alred had mentioned his wife’s coming death when we last spoke, and he hadn’t attended the Wilchrest wedding. Likely, he was as subsumed by working to evacuate as many people as he could as I was in preparing defenses, and it was something related to that. Although… he was working in a new field of magic and he may have discovered something. That thought excited me, and I jumped up from the couch with new enthusiasm. 

“Well? Lead on!” I said with a grin.

The moment I arrived on the first floor of my tower to greet the mage, I knew I wouldn’t be receiving any good news. The man who greeted me was the same fellow Froom had sent to stand in his place at the wedding, though he appeared much more worn. Stelk’s eyes were wrinkled with worry, and his brow furrowed as he paced back and forth before my curved table in deep thought. He didn’t even note our arrival, but Fentworth cleared his throat and announced me.

“Presenting Lord Nemon Fargus,” Fentworth called, my seneschal’s voice and actions still at the height of propriety. I gave the man an appreciative glance, as I entered the room and nodded to my guest.

Stelk stopped in his pacing, and turned to bow low as he said a formal greeting, “Good day, Grand Master.”

“Good day,” I answered. It wasn’t the first time I’d been called grand master, that was an affectation from the other teachers at the Arcanum. It was the first time I’d heard it in several years, though, and was reminiscent of times not long ago when my worries were much fewer. 

Skelt rose to stand, and I took in his appearance more closely. His red robes were worn but clean, and I could see little frays around the green cuffs where the fabric was beginning to thin. Likewise, his hair was clean and pushed back, as if he ran his hands through it rather than brush it. Stubble grew on his cheeks and chin, evidence of shaving recently but not in the past week or so. 

“Please sit,” I offered, my hand gesturing to the seat before him. I sat in my own chair, across the table and to the left of the stone stool he had taken. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to forestall him. Turning to my seneschal, I called for food and wine. 

It was several moments of silence between us while we waited. I could see his impatience in how he carried himself: a finger tapping, a knee bouncing, his face making assorted expressions without any care of discipline. Soon, the food and wine arrived, cups of strawberry wine with a platter of grilled fish the same as breakfast this morning and cuts of tender, freshly cut cheese. Not enough to be considered a meal on its own, but enough to fill a hungry stomach or two until lunch.

Stelk ignored the food and drink. Instead, after it arrived, he bowed his head once while he looked up at me with imploring eyes. “Grand master, I am a disciple of Lord Froom, and I have come to beseech your aid. He has taken to drink heavily in his mourning of Lady Froom’s passing, and has given us no further instructions.”

“Go on,” I said calmly, though now I was beginning to feel worried as well. Alred had adventured for many years, and he must have had experience with dealing with loss. To throw himself into the bottles—what was he thinking? I reached for a glass of wine, but Stelk placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward. 

His words came out with all the sense of urgency he felt, the intensity of his emotions clear on his face. “We have not been able to get through to him. All he does is drink. None of us. His disciples are ignored. His retainers are ordered to carry on, as if whatever they were doing before, they should keep doing. His followers, many of who have known him for years and settled his lands, only to move and resettle the plane are disregarded. We know what is at stake, but we are at a loss for how to proceed without his guidance. I implore you—beg you—to help him so that he can once again lead us!”

I leaned back as I stroked my beard in thought, but I already knew my answer. How could I decline?

“Very well. I shall ready to depart after we eat,” I answered. 

The man gaped at me as if he didn’t expect assent. I picked a slice of cheese to nibble on while he came to his senses. It only took a moment for him to look chagrinned. “Grand master, I apologize for my outburst.”

I waved the cheese at him, “No need. I can see you care for your mentor very much.”

“I do. He has taught me everything. I must also confess that I wasn’t ready for your quick agreement.” Stelk spoke, yet his eyes were now on the plate of food and his tone full of shame, “Master once said you were mule-headed. He called you the most stubborn man he’d ever met. I thought I would need to spend days convincing you.”

I nodded, “That sounds like something Alred would say.” In fact, it was one of the more pleasant things I expected the man to say about me. 

“The quartz needed to build the portal won’t arrive until tomorrow. I—I planned to build it while you were considering the matter,” The mage grimaced, still not looking at me. 

I picked up a piece of the fish and chewed on it slowly while I thought. The mage kept his head bowed while I did, as if awaiting a reprimand. Though part of me did want to reprimand the man, I suspected that the pressures of the coming End of our Age affected many people in different ways. That, and if he was Alred’s disciple, it should be up to Alred to judge the matter. 

“Very well. We will depart when you are prepared. I have other matters to attend to. Mister Aide, if you would, find some quarters for our guest?”

My seneschal bowed in response, as I moved a piece of the cheese across the plate in thought. It was as I was thinking, I heard the front door open and someone tactfully cough to announce their presence. When I glanced up, Pyl was standing there with a happy face.

“Lord Fargus, are you available?” he asked, nearly giddy with excitement.

“For?” I inquired.

“To view my greatest work! To see through the mirror that looks down upon the plane of death. To call upon those who have departed,” he said with an infectious grin.

I couldn’t help but smile in return. I had already been interrupted once, and I did have a moment or two.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 29

I awoke mid-morning feeling more well-rested than I had in weeks. My decision to rest before pursuing the next Authority was a good one. The fact that I hadn’t taken off my pants upon arrival and actually slept with them on was proof enough of that. It only took me moments to change from my travel attire to a more comfortable cotton robe dyed to a solid blue and patterned with defensive runes. It was something I had commissioned to adventure in. The runes only provided a small modicum of protection, but inside dungeons and labyrinths, the unexpected was a given and even small protections could save lives.

On the first floor, I was greeted by a host of people that stood around a great selection of breakfast foods resting on the semicircular table. Many were chatting comfortably with each other, and the smell of sausages, eggs, and cut fruit sent my stomach to rumbling. Those dining paused in their conversations upon my arrival, and my seneschal announced me to the group.

I was uncertain at first if I had interrupted some kind of celebration, but, as I was led to my chair, it soon became apparent that these people had all gathered to speak with me. Kine sat immediately to my right, and my assistant Philipe to my left, and several of the men and women in the crowd seemed to look to each other as if attempting to gauge the importance of their relative needs.

I was about to dismiss them all when a plate of food was set before me and my stomach rumbled yet again. I speared a piece of sausage with the twin tines of my fork and motioned for Fentworth, my seneschal, to come closer. When he arrived, I gave him instructions loud enough for many to hear.

“I will be here for breakfast, and then I have a task I must accomplish. I will only see to those who cannot wait for two days,” I said magnanimously.  Not that I suspected I would be done with the Authority in two days, but that if they would wait two days, then they could wait for three or even five.

“Yes, my lord,” he answered, and then gestured towards Kine.

Kine ran his hand through his hair, which had been cut shorter recently. It was maybe a knuckles length from his scalp, and I was certain that it was done to draw less attention to the growing bald spot on his head. He also had a beard and mustache of similar length that gave him a much more distinguished look than when he had been my apprentice. It seemed that Rhaela the Red’s influence on him had helped some with personal appearance.

“Master, I wanted to inform you that there was a crime committed that requires justice seen. The mother of one of the adopted orphans has been severely beating the girl and forcing her to sleep in the muck beneath their home.” Kine began, then he grimaced, “A girl of eight summers, maybe nine. From what we’ve gathered of that evening, she was beating the child past the point of unconsciousness when the child’s bonded wolf attacked, killing the woman. Her father wanted the wolf killed and the daughter to have a new home, but both the wolf and the father are currently caged in town. The wolf, for murder, and the father for allowing the beatings.”

I nodded in understanding and used the spoon to feed myself a mouth full of eggs only to see that Kine had stopped speaking as if expecting me to answer. After I finished chewing, I asked, “And?”

Kine glanced around uncomfortably before answering me, “And I would like your advice on administering justice here. The child is with the sisters of Elora now, being healed. What should be done with the wolf and the father?”

I took a sip of the wine, a pleasant peach vintage that went well with the breakfast foods, as I considered the matter. Eventually, I arrived at a decision and nodded while I spoke, “If you find the crime warrants death, send the father my way. I can use him as a subject for experimentation. I have no need for the wolf.”

The small conversations about the hall seemed to fade into silence, and Kine graced me with an uncomfortable smile. He asked hesitantly, “Experiments?”

“Of course,” I gestured to the statue of the woman behind him, “Meri—” I paused, having forgotten the rest of the assassins’ name.

After a small pause, I turned and gestured toward the other statue, “And…” And I had forgotten my former assistant's name as well. “They both have been petrified. I would like to test the spell on another to see if they are aware of what occurs around them while petrified.” I returned my meal and began eating with the hopes that this was the only matter that I would be bothered with.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have an interest in the crime or the punishment. It was a question of relative importance. What if spending the day it took to sort the matter out resulted in the difference needed for me to save a thousand people from the Pestilence? It was also a matter of delegation, as Kine was an Alderman, and therefore had the authority to administer justice as much as I did. His asking my opinion was likely because he wanted a measure of approval from me in case other villagers disagreed.

“Master, can I ask what these two did to warrant being turned into statues?” Kine asked. His voice was soft, but because no one else in the room was speaking, it carried.

I had been eating the eggs, which were boiled, and then cut and mixed with some kind of spices that made for an excellent dish, and regretted that I had to set my spoon down to speak. I turned my body directly towards my former assistant, to show I was unhappy with the interruption in the meal. I wasn’t unhappy with the question, as questions were good for learning. Calmly, and with a pleasant smile, I answered, “The woman is a fifth-tier Mirktallean assassin.”

“And Orwell?”

Ah! That was his name. I don’t know why I had forgotten. Still, as I took in the silence in the room, and the wary looks of those nearby, I thought perhaps it would be better to jest and remove some of the tension. I pointed towards the ceiling, and strongly announced, “Orwell didn’t bath properly!”

“I—I see,” Kine said.

I chortled to myself at the joke, as several in the crowd sniffed at their armpits. I saw more than a few find other places to be, which was fine as that meant fewer delays in getting back to my plans.

Kine took his time as he gathered his thoughts, and then asked, “Might I ask what you believe should be done with the wolf?”

“Seems to me that a wolf that defends a child is a good thing. Reward it perhaps?” I shrugged and went back to eating. I was almost halfway through the meal now, and I was mentally preparing myself for the tasks I needed to do to summon the lightning elemental.

“My lord, presenting Necromancer Pyl and Witch Loralie,” my seneschal called, and the pair approached the table. Loralie instantly had my attention, though she only behaved in a mannerly way. I was both disappointed there wasn’t further reaction from her, and at the same time glad she acted in that manner.

Pyl, though, behaved in his usual excited manner, nearly bursting with excitement, “We have completed it!”

“Oh? It works?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow and a glance towards Loralie. If I remembered correctly, they were working on a mirror that would allow us to speak with the spirits of the dead. Something like that would be of great value, though Loralie had also been working individually on converting a powerful curse so that it took its energy from the tower instead of the sacrificing babes.

Loralie nodded in confirmation, and Pyl lifted his fists into the air, “We have succeeded! We can now speak with—opf!” his declaration was cut mid-sentence by Loralie stomping on his foot.

“We talked about this,” she hissed at him.

Pyl made a pained face and seemed to calm just a tiny bit. “We would be happy to show you at your convenience.”

I nodded, “Good. I will look forward to seeing it as soon as I am able.” Then I turned to Loralie, “And your project?”

She gave me a small bow, “Ready whenever you desire, Lord Fargus.”

When no one else came to the table, I instructed Philipe to document the changes to the mushroom men in the dungeon, a statement which stirred a host of whispers across the hall. I only rolled my eyes at the antics of the uninvolved and finished my meal.

Having a clear mind, and organized thoughts left me much more confident than I was the night before. Lightning elementals were different from the others in several ways. Beyond their unique way of thinking, they didn’t tend to last long when summoned to our world. More than that, they needed certain types of items nearby. Metal mostly, though water could sometimes work for lower tiers. The more metal available, the longer they stayed before returning to their plane. They were also much, much more dangerous.

So, after I emptied one of my testing areas in my laboratory, I moved several large pieces of copper and bronze into place about the cell. I set up wards that would keep the elemental contained in one spot, and then withdrew the small, finger-sized lodestone. The gem was a rarity among all the gems I had, mostly because alchemists used it for something or other. Obviously not potions that increased their intelligence. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. That wasn’t fair to them, maybe they were born with less intelligence than others and did succeed in such potions only to be brought to normal levels.

Either way, it had nothing to do with the elemental I needed to summon.

With a reluctant sigh, I used wooden tongs to hold the gem inside the warded cell, and focused my mind on it, sending my thoughts through to connect with the plane of lightning. I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation to come.

I focused harder than any other elemental, and sent my appeal out to the Lord of Lightning to grant me the use of one of its feet. That wasn’t how I would have preferred to ask or call them, but the lord considered each elemental a part of itself, and it responded quickly to my request in the usual way.

Dance?

I pictured a being, a dog-shaped creature made of lightning, its paws touching the various bits of copper I had strewn throughout the room. I imagined it moving from one to the other the way that lightning moves between things it strikes. I didn’t ask for more, because I didn’t need it for long. Instead, I only picture obedience and honesty. Then, despite all I had pictured and sent to it, it responded the same way.

Dance?

I sighed and frowned, reluctant to admit failure here. Yet it wasn’t truly a failure, I knew the lord of that plane would grant my request if only I agreed. So, I agreed. Dance, I sent, though I withheld any imagined scene from my mind.

Dance! I heard the word echo back in my mind, in a tone of excitement I would attribute to a child. Lightning spewed forth from the lodestone, bouncing across the walls before it began to arc back and forth between the pieces of copper. I had placed many in the cell, knowing that it would slowly melt them all. Slowly, I sat the lodestone down and focused my thoughts on the second-tier lightning elemental trapped inside the cage.

First, I tried to communicate with it the same way I would any other elemental, but its responses flickered back into my mind too fast for me to understand. Responses always followed with the emotion of being thrilled with excited movement.  It took long moments of harsh focus for me to get it to finally respond to my request and take my mind into the corridor I desired.

This hall wasn’t like the one for earth. Instead, it was a vast web of metal and wire, some so thin they may have been string. Pulses of lightning surged forth from deeper in the tunnel, like a heartbeat, though the lightning didn’t harm me. The doors here were made of a mirror-like metal that I couldn’t identify, something like silver and glass polished so well that all one could see was a reflection and the outline of the shape. The lightning elemental bounced back and forth between those doorways excitedly for several moments before disappearing. Whether because it was bored and returned to its body, or its body had melted the copper away, I didn’t know. I had what I wanted and knew where to go.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 28

My tower was a welcome sight as I flew towards it. I hadn’t come directly home, but instead had flown in several circles and changed my wardrobe midair. It wasn’t my finest moment to do so, even hidden inside a cloud, and the lack of propriety had left my cheeks burning with shame. Still, I feared something from that horrid jungle country might be able to track me by scent alone, and had an air elemental carry my travel robe all the way to the western mountains. 

I had made a quick stop in Eiston along the way to inform the Duchess what I had seen, not that I expected her to be able to defend against such threats. She did seem to accept my warnings with the due diligence of a true leader, though she had proposed that I marry her daughter for some reason I couldn’t fathom. It made for an awkward end of that conversation, but I hoped that I convinced her well enough.

The travel also gave me plenty of time to consider a new authority, and I thought deeply regarding all the options that might be available to me. I had only been at the third tier of necromancy and nature magic when I merged them into my Elementalist class, so I feared I wouldn’t be able to learn the intricacies of the advanced spells in those fields quickly enough to combat any of the threats I had seen. I wasn’t certain they would be worthwhile, even at the height of the fifth tier. The giants of root and vine I had seen combating the Pestilence seemed a good representation of the height of nature magic, and they would most assuredly have fallen to the broodmother.

I yearned for the lost knowledge of spellcraft related to space or time, yet beyond simple spells in those fields, I had even less of a foundation there than I did with necromancy and nature magic. I had studied enough space magic to create my own bags of holding, but when I had considered using similar magics to increase the inside of my tower, I found the intricacies for those enchantments to hold complexities beyond what I imagined. The spellwork to expand a simple room’s size would take several years of constructing the enchantment. Time magic wasn’t even a real consideration. There were no spells that I knew of in the field, only written hypotheses concerning the potential. It would make my experiments infinitely easier if I could quicken the rate time affected them, but again I didn’t know if there was anything in either field that could help against the monsters I had seen. I certainly suspected there was, but it was too important to risk it. 

Likewise, I knew much more about defending against charm and mind magics than I did about using them. Certainly, mind magic had an excellent appeal. If the circumstances were different, I could imagine using either to plunder the knowledge of other magics from other mages with great enthusiasm. I was tempted to choose mind magics anyway because of its potential to allow me to learn spellcraft from others.  Only the knowledge that there was still a third Authority I could choose later stayed the decision. That and I knew where my strengths were.

I was an Elementalist first before I was a wizard. I could be more, I knew I could be more, but elemental spells where was I was comfortable with. I dismissed wind magic first. While it was the key to my Tempest spell and held great possibilities in regards to combining it with other magics, I didn’t consider it ideal for attacking such monstrous beasts. Likewise, water would be an excellent field for many foes, but the way the Pestilence looked when I saw them infesting the ocean made me pass on this option as well. 

I had narrowed down my choices to fire or lightning. Both fields contained enormous offensive spellcraft, many of which I was familiar with. The more advanced spells would be quicker for me to understand and use. Of the two options, I favored fire. Fire could burn away the Pestilence in great waves and I felt it would be the best suited to combat the monsters’ innate regeneration. Yet I didn’t choose it for a very simple reason: there were already several fifth-tier Pyromancers. I knew that given time, I could raid their towers and take their knowledge for myself. Why would I use the opportunity that the doors of knowledge within and Authority granted me on something I could gain another way? 

No, it made much more sense to choose lightning. So, as I landed on the rooftop of my tower, startling my guards when I dropped my invisibility, I headed directly towards my laboratory. It was near midnight and most of my staff would be asleep. I longed to sleep in my bed as well and to eat a freshly cooked meal instead of travel rations, but I knew my time was limited. I passed by a startled Pyl, the necromancer pacing my library with a tome in hand. I ignored the cracked door on the next floor down where my two assistants were busy in the same room. I passed the empty first floor, where someone had decorated the two statues with garlands of woven flowers. The kitchen was dark and quiet. My goal was to gather supplies in my laboratory to summon a lightning elemental. 

I was confident I could find the corridor of magic for the authority on my own now, after my earth elemental had led me to the earth one, but that didn’t mean I wanted to risk wasting time if my confidence was misplaced.  There was too much at risk to become overconfident. 

Yet, despite the determination I felt in my goal, and the seriousness I carried myself with, I could only come to a halt as I came across the unexpected. When I had last departed my laboratory, I had left the remains of the mushroom man atop a cloth-covered wooden board, its body cut open and held that way with four long, thin metal pins. The tome I had recorded the details of its innards was left open on an illustration I drew of what I had found inside. I had planned to revisit it after the body had dried a bit to detail how time affects the corpse.

On that very table, in the very place I had expected the project to be, I saw something else instead. I saw four mushroom men, all standing and very much alive. Each one wore a bit of the cloth that had covered the board around their bodies like a robe. In their… well, they weren’t hands, but the things at the end of their arms were almost hands, they held the pins in the same manner that I carried my magic staff. One of the little mushroom men was pointing and gesturing towards the illustration I had detailed in the book while the other three nodded as if in understanding. 

I cocked my head to the side, as my mind worked to take in the unexpected. It wasn’t long, though, before the four noticed me, and they all hustled to stand headcap to headcap a line on the table facing me. As one, they lifted their pin-staffs and pointed them in my direction. They held them like that for a long moment, and I wasn’t certain if they were imitating me casting a spell. I fine-tuned my wards so that the wards wouldn’t kill them in response if they were, but I never looked away. 

The standoff between us was only a moment before the mushroom man on the right swung its pin down and to the side as it bowed. The next one followed, and then the two after that as well. I may have forgotten to close my mouth in surprise for a moment, but they held their bowed positions as if waiting for my response. Uncertain how I should respond, as they didn’t speak and I wasn’t certain they could understand me if I did, I clapped instead. 

Clapping, as one might or might not know—I certainly didn’t before now—is the correct method to respond to mushroom men’s bows. They rose and began to gesture towards me with their arms in a manner that felt like it would go well with speech, but I hadn’t the faintest idea what they meant. Instead, I pulled the wooden board from where it rested beside them on the table and held it before them.  They were hesitant at first, but they climbed onto it, and I carried them down to return them to the dungeon. I wasn’t certain the impact such a change would have on their people, but would ensure that my assistant Phillipe monitored them tomorrow to see. 

When I returned to my laboratory, I could only chuckle and shake my head as I gathered the ingredients necessary to summon a lightning elemental. It was as I held those ingredients in my hand, I felt a sense of relief. The stress and fear of my trip south had rattled me more than I had realized, and I knew that I shouldn’t be summoning any elemental or assuming any new Authority without resting first. With a pleasant resignation, I took myself to my room to sleep. 

I would assume the Authority for lightning tomorrow.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Interlude 2 of 3 - The First Prince

The sun shining off the tall gates of Sena City was a welcoming sight, despite my grievance in returning. Home would always be home, and the Castle Sena had long been that, but I didn’t look forward to returning. Castle life had made me soft, I realized that now. The perfumed sheets and eager servant girls inspired laziness compared to the furs and whores I suffered during the war. I was no longer bitter about the change in lifestyle, and now looked forward to staring down at my many brothers and cousins with disdain. Let them speak to me after they’ve beat a man to death with a stone.

A pace behind me, Longston and Blue rode to either side; the three of us heading the procession of a five-hundred-man cavalry. My constant guards and companions throughout the war had come to know me well. They knew I wasn’t satisfied with being recalled before I had advanced my second class from a third-tier [Commander] to fourth-tier [General]; a few more battles were all I needed. They knew me so well, they could tell my mood simply by how I rode towards the gates, and their conversation reflected that.

“Be nice not to hear them damn chains rattling,” Longston said, loud enough for the three of us but not for those who rode behind. The tall man had a way with words sometimes, I could give him that. 

“Aye, damned Mirks and their pox-marked their priests. Every cursed day, at dawn and again at dusk, I heard them chains. Say what you will about Elora or Bi, but I’ll be spending an hour or two in their temples to clear my mind. Started to hear chains rattlin’ in my head at night.” Blue cursed more now than when the war started.

Longston laughed loud and deep in response, “Don’t think they got a temple in any of the brothels, brother. I know that’s where you’ll be.”

“They say Elora is the goddess of Light and Love, so I think I’ll be worshipping her tonight. I can’t help but love me some women. And they love me right back.” I could hear the smile in Blue’s voice.

“They love your gold, you mean. Might as well pray to the Heron, maybe he’ll barter you a discount,” Longston guffawed.

I heard Blue spit to the side, “The Heron’ll see me poor. I don’t have enough coins in my purse ta be foolin’ with no merchant’s god. No, Elora is whose name I’ll be calling tonight. Only one of the three that sounds like a proper maiden’s name.”

“As if you would know what to do with a proper maiden,” Longston retorted and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

The merchants and commonfolk in lines before the gate made way for our procession, and the guards at the gate saluted as we approached. I wasn’t certain how many of them had seen battle as we did, but they did a fine job of standing tall and still in my honor. I took off my helm and carried it under one arm. I was a proud Prince of Sena, and I intended to show it. “At ease,” I called to the guards arrayed before me.

More guards rushed down from the guardhouse and battlements to form a small platoon, ten men wide and twelve men deep. After forming up, the guards went still until their captain called out, “Kneel before the First Prince!”

The guards, row by row, took a knee. Each man that knelt punched an armored first into the ground, creating a metal clang that was almost musical in its repetition. 

Yet, I was no longer paying attention, “Captain.”

The man rushed to my side and knelt like the others, “My lord, what is your command?”

“Why did you call me first prince, do you not recognize me?”

The captain looked up from where he knelt and blanched. Beneath his plumed helmet, I could see his green eyes widen and his face lose color. “Forgive me, my lord, I thought you knew. Your brother Fermont has passed in battle not three weeks hence. Please pardon me for bearing this news!”

I was appalled. How had I not heard? I could hear the rising sound of whispers behind me, though from my men or the commonfolk I couldn’t tell. My brother was mine to kill! I had devoted every waking moment of battle dreaming of his stupid face. Every soldier slain, every commander beheaded, every priest I had run down were only steps rising up to where Fermont stood. I had a plan, a challenge to duel him in front of the entire court. 

“What—what happened?” I asked in shock. Fermont held a fourth-tier class, and several more besides. He wouldn’t fall without a battle.

“Wyverns, my lord. They say a host of wyverns dove from the sky on the eve of victory at Lice Hill. They say he killed three by his own hand before he fell.”

“Wyverns?” I whispered to myself, feeling breathless. That made no sense at all! I sat on my horse in stunned silence trying to piece together how that could happen for many moments before Longston spoke.

“The prince is stunned at the loss of his beloved brother. Please continue your duties and we will see to him.” Longston road to my side and tied my horse to his as we rode through the gates. 

I felt as though I was in a fog as we entered, yet even I noticed that there was almost no one in sight. Fearing a trap, my hand gripped the hilt of my sword, and I turned my head to either side. My knights likewise appeared on edge. Normally, the fifth ring was a bustling hive of degenerate filth, the worst that Sena City had to offer.

“Blue,” I called but didn’t look in his direction. Blue knew what I wanted, and road away from us towards the nearest peasant.

“You there,” he called, singling out a destitute old mother in rags, “Where are the people?”

The mother sat alone before a hovel of dirt and straw, something that looked as though it would blow over in a strong wind. Her face was covered with dust and grime; her hair matted and greasy. She had been watching us as we entered, but now she looked towards blue with a grim smile.

“Gone. Gone. All gone. Is that the Prince? Prince of No One?” she asked, her face one of intensity.

“Aye, that’s yer prince. Mine too, and I ain’t no one,” Blue answered his voice threatening. 

They spoke a little more, but I no longer listened. If this wasn’t a trap, I could return to my thoughts. My brother was dead, at the hands of—who? Wild monsters? It was absurd. He may as well have tripped on the battlements and fallen to his death. 

We continued onwards into the fourth ring, a place that should have been filled with tradesmen hawking wares and haulers moving crates or barrels. Instead, it was half as busy as it should be, and the faces I could see were more downcast than I could understand. We weren’t winning the war, not by any perspective, but with the added armies from Eistoni, we were taking back the Freetoni Lands we had lost. These people looked as though they expected Mirktallean troops to siege the city any day, and we were far, far from that.

The market was no better. Half of the stalls lay empty as we rode by, and the merchants I could see weren’t nearly as busy as they should be. Only a few looked to be happy, and the rest held stony expressions and eyed our knights with open contempt. This wasn’t the city I left. Had my brother’s death had such an impact here? A wyvern attack, no matter how many he slew, was not the glorious death due a prince of Sena.

It was in the third ring, I began to see more oddities that made no sense. Entire roads that should have been cobbled were instead a lane of sharpened stone spikes jutting from the ground. Buildings of stone that should have stood clean and proud were marked with lines of fire as if someone took a flaming whip to them. One store, abandoned, was filled with hundreds of illusionary rabbits hopping about and people walked it without regard, as if it had been that way for years.

“What in Elora’s light happened here?” Blue whispered. That he didn’t curse was as much a sign something was wrong as his question.

“It’s like the city has gone mad,” Longston answered. 

The second ring was untouched by madness from what I could see. The same noble houses and estates stood in manicured perfection, their fountains running and their servants working. It was a relief to see that this part of the city was untouched, but it was also the part of the city I wanted to see touched the most. As much as I had planned the death of my brother, I still loved him in a way. He was my brother. That none of these great houses showed signs of grief at his passing almost felt an insult to his name. Would they disregard my death as well?

The gates to Castle Sena were opened for us when we arrived, and servants in the dozens rushed to meet us. I didn’t bother to change from my armor as I entered the keep and followed a servant to where my father was waiting. The servant was a little slip of a girl, barely budding. Still, the sense of unease I felt only rose as I grew closer. The halls and rooms that should have made me feel welcomed and safe now felt constricting. Grandfather had descended into madness. Had father as well? How would he receive me? I wasn’t my brother, and Fermont had always been the son more doted on.

She turned to me in one of the halls and whispered, “Your lordship, the king is in a fierce mood, I hope you are wary.”

“A fierce mood?” I asked, looking down at the girl.

“Aye. He killed old Andrik just for sayin’ his first son’s name. Backhanded him and Andrik’s head turned right ‘round, it did.”

“Ah,” I answered. Andrik had been a loyal butler for us for many years, a quiet man with a dry sense of humor. I hadn’t known him well, but I knew his name and face.

I met my father in the solar, the room designed to reflect sunlight in a way that it always seemed overly bright during the day. Many mirrors hung from brightly painted white walls, the white marbled floor polished to a shine. Furniture of polished glass or white cloth sat beneath great windows that curved from the eastern wall into the ceiling.  So bright the room, I had to shade my eyes when one of the two doors into the room opened.

Contrary to that brightness, my father sat on a couch dressed in entirely black as he read through missives. Not necessarily the color of mourning, but one that gave no doubt to his mood. He looked more aged today than I had ever seen him before, even after my third mother’s death. 

“Stallmont,” he said, not bothering to look up from what he was reading. 

“Father,” I answered with a quick bow as the servant who had guided me here departed.

“Sit.” My father commanded, his voice both firm and pained. 

Uncertainty and fear began to creep into me as I walked into the room. If he found me wanting, would he have me killed to let a younger brother take my place? Would he send me forth into a battle that I held no hope of victory? I sat down on the couch across from him, the fine furniture creaking beneath the weight of my armor. 

I was silent for many moments as he read, and then he placed the scroll down and rubbed his forehead. When he looked up, I could see the red rings around his eyes, evidence he had been crying earlier. 

“Your brother is dead.” 

I nodded, “I heard just today. Wyverns, the said.”

My father snorted and spit the word, “Wyverns.” He shook his head, “What else did you hear? Did you hear that the mad wizard summoned them from the west, laughing all the while? That his assistant was seen riding the largest one not three days ago?”

My eyes widened. The mad wizard?! He killed my brother? I didn’t voice my thoughts, but my shock was seen.

The king sighed, a defeated sound. He looked at the scroll he had just placed down as he spoke, “The mad wizard. Our trap for him failed. Some rogue alchemist enraged the monster before he arrived, and it killed three hundred men. This is his retribution.” 

My father’s eyes slowly rose to look at me, then he shouted, “My son! Your brother! He took him from us!” 

Spittle flew from his lips, but I said nothing. I had no answer for that, and I feared this was a sign of the beginnings of his descent into madness. Yet, he calmed from his outburst quickly. “You aren’t angry, because you know not what he has done to Sena.”

Softly, I asked, “What has he done father?”

My father, I had never seen him display such rage and passion as he did in his answer, “Duchess Eistoni rebels, the traitor. Duke Birktoni has gone silent, but his silence speaks to conspiracy. He has destroyed all trade throughout the kingdom. The gemstones he hoarded forced us to withdraw gold from the vaults, gold that is now beyond our reach because it is trapped in cities that stand a hundred feet high! How will we pay our soldiers with empty coffers? And my city. Our city. Our beautiful city. It lays half empty, and those that remain are afraid to leave their homes lest they be slain by spells that my mages level at each other!”

I leaned back away from him as he screamed. When he finished, I was too surprised, by both his intensity and his words to truly consider a response. All I could ask was, “He did all this?” 

My father stood and began pacing, “This and worse. He would take all I love from me, from us, so we will do the same.”

I didn’t answer right away. I searched for words to answer with. My father had always been a calm and astute figure in my life, and seeing him so enraged left me uncertain of how I should carry myself. Still, I couldn’t fail to answer him, “How will we do that?”

“Send her in!” he called towards the other door, the door I hadn’t entered through. Outside it, there was some shuffling before the door was opened, and in walked a beautiful young woman I had never laid eyes on before. She walked with tiny steps and a slow grace that befitted proper nobility, though her face bore none of the traits I had come to recognize. Instead, she had a dainty nose and piercing yellow eyes that matched her golden hair and skin. 

She dressed in a scarlet gown of frills and lace, the color accenting that of her lips in a way I found positively enticing. Behind her, a dog of some sort trotted in as well leaving brown footprints on its path. I would have named it a young wolf, if it didn’t have tiny leaves and flowers for hair. She came forward to stand between us at just the right distance and curtseyed with practiced ease. Was she some northern noble? A lesser Mirktallean house? The young wolf, if that’s what it was, sat on its haunches, as formal and well-mannered as its masters.

“Greetings this day, your grace, King of Sena, and greetings to you as well, First Prince. It is an honor to meet you,” her words were spoken elegantly with a small smile. 

I felt captivated but knew better than to show weakness before anyone, not here in the castle. I glanced towards my father who looked at me with a smirk on his face. “Prince Stallmont, I would like to present to you Lady Lily, Princess of the Quad Isles. Your new intended.”

The Quad Isles? That made no sense, the isles were but rocks and reefs, and a single port town that wouldn’t exist without trade. Was this some trick? A test? 

My father continued, “Lady Lily comes to us directly from her steward’s home. Raised in a magical tower by the Mad Wizard, himself. A talented young woman who offers much to the family.”

She was raised by the Wizard? The one that father was furious at only moments before? I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself and spoke them out loud before I thought them through. “Father, how can we trust her then?”

My father had been smiling at the woman before I had blurted my question and turned towards me with a fierce frown, but Lady Lily curtseyed again with a smile and a fluttering of her eyes. “I can answer that, your grace. If I may.”

My father’s angry frown didn’t disappear, but it did lessen. He nodded once and granted her permission, “You may.”

The resplendent Lady Lily turned and beamed a bright smile that warmed my heart, “First Prince, it is truly a simple answer. The Mad Wizard, Nemon Fargus, tried to kill my mother. He failed, but what could I do? I am but a girl.” 

I thought I saw a gleam of madness in her eyes when she spoke, but then I watched her as she leaned down and pat the young wolf on the head as if consoling the wolf were the proper course of action. No, that couldn’t have been madness. It must have been anger I had. Anyone would be angry at the man who tried to kill their mother, it was only natural. 

It made me angry too. How dare anyone harm such an innocent young lady? My betrothed deserved so much more!

Poll - Second Magical Authority

As you read in the last chapter, Nemon's feeling the pressure. He'll need to select his next magical authority soon. Options are below!  

A comment option with enough likes might break into the ones I have here.

(Or - if you just think of something funny (and not R rated), feel free to share!)

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 27

Of course, he bounced right off my defensive wards. If I fell to every physical attack that came my way, then I would have long ago perished. It would take a creature the size of the hydra broodmother or larger to strike me through my wards. Cyrus, the vampiric gnome, looked more surprised at his own actions than he did that he bounced off my wards. The wee little fellow glanced down at his hands in shock, as if they had acted on their own. 

That, of course, was the last time I looked at him, as I turned and fled as quickly as I could. I knew better than to fight a magic-user of his tier in his own home. Or at all, if I could help it. The warding on the doors was potent and would take time to bypass. The warding on the walls around them didn’t exist. The doors fell outward leaving a loud clang against the stone ground, but I was already flying over them as they fell.

I recast my invisibility spell as I flew over the shocked faces of the shamans. I sped through the mines, over the bridge and goblin villages, and through the long earthen corridor. I could hear the pitter-patter of little feet behind me. Cyrus was much, much faster than I imagined. Nearly as fast on foot as I was in flight. Nearly.

I flew out from the mouth of the cavern and into the night’s sky around the plateau. I slowed there, turning to see if he would continue to follow me, but he wasn’t. He stood at the entrance to the cavern with his eyes closed. I waited and watched, with only the sound of my heart beating fast at first. 

Then as I calmed, I heard other things. The dense night jungle around the plateau was alive with the sounds of violence. The screams of many beasts in a near-constant struggle filled what was once a quiet place. Not peaceful, but quiet.

Then, I heard Cyrus speak, his voice deep and powerful. Not what I would have expected from a person his size, but the sound of it and the way his eyes shone in the dark sent a tremor down my back. 

“This smell is quite exquisite.”

It seemed every beast in the nearby jungle paused in their struggles, afraid of what had spoken. What answered him was the piercing cry of an enormous crow to the south. So loud, my head jerked to the side of its own accord. 

I wanted to flee, but I hesitated. If Cyrus was as he claimed, a powerful being from the ancient past, and I released him onto the people of Tervan—how would that be different than the fires I had spread so long ago? 

Yet when I spared a glance away from the gnome, I saw the Mirktallean priest casting unholy magics on the bodies of the dead bloodmages. The bodies and parts had been dragged from where they fell onto a platform of wood that looked constructed for this very purpose. Around the mage’s corpse were dead beasts. Corpses of mutated snakes and birds, of panthers and hydra, and other men were being cut apart with bone saws and sew together into something new. Streams of blood flowed through the air around them. Their forms had been twisted to horrific purpose, mutated by the power of their blood god into something I knew would give me nightmares for years to come. 

I waited no longer, turning and flying North as fast as my spellcraft could carry me. This entire country was mad! If it were a person, they would be shrieking in the throes of mind sickness and plague. Thrice I had come across a vision of my death. The blood god. The broodmother. The ancient vampire. Thrice I had escaped. These people can have their mad country, and I hoped the hydra swallow them all. 

The flight North into Sena, and then west towards my tower was a speedy one, but it still gave me time to think. To fear. The ground sped by beneath me, and I paid it no mind at all. Instead, thoughts circled in my head forcing me to relive everything of note that occurred in Tervan.

I wasn’t strong enough to fight one of those three beings. Even if the bloodgod prevailed, if one hydra broodmother existed, surely another did as well. That didn’t speak well to humanity’s survival even atop plateaus. 

I needed more strength, more power. With the additional mana from the dungeon cores, I could cast something truly devastating if I had a spell for it. Yet, I hadn’t found one within my Authority over the spells of earth. I still hadn’t looked behind all of the doors available, but I felt I had looked through enough. 

I knew it was fear of what I had seen that pushed me. An overwhelming anxiety that the world was coming to an end, and myself with it. A fear that I would be eaten alive or worse. I wished that I had the time to consider my options more carefully. Truly, I wished for so many things. My wishes, though, were ashes in my mouth. 

I accepted it. There were no other options. 

I would choose a new authority.

Hi! Sorry for the short chapter. Chapter 26 was long, and 27 was short - something that will likely get fixed during the editing process.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 26

It wasn’t difficult to defeat the animated weapons and shields so that I could land at the opening of the cave. A few strikes of low-level lightning bolts shattered the copper into smoldering pieces. Most dungeons I had entered had a hall or foyer that was devoid of traps or enemies, usually with some sort of warning. This one didn’t, but I simply assumed that it was due to my spell cutting the dungeon in half. 

It made me curious as to what might happen to the other half. Were dungeons like worms that could regrow from broken sections? I took my tome out and began writing down questions I had that required further experimentation. Then I frowned as I recalled the two enormous monsters fighting to the south, snapped my book shut, and put it away. 

I gazed further into the darkness of the tunnel before me and asked myself if this was the best use of my time. How many lives might be lost by adventuring here instead of returning to my tower to further prepare for the coming Pestilence? Could I even prepare a weapon powerful enough to defeat either the Tervan blood god or the hydra broodmother if I had enough time? What if I accepted a new Authority? 

I had a suspicion that choosing another elemental would also open the adjoining spells. Learning fire would open magma spells or water would open mud. What was I doing adventuring at a time like this? I shook my head and turned away but something sticking out of a broken spear shaft caught my attention. Mana crystal. Why would the enchanted weapons require mana crystals as a power source if they were dungeon creatures? That didn’t make sense. 

I looked closer, and also saw death crystals in the remains, some with souls still trapped inside. That explained the air of necromancy I felt, but it didn’t make sense either. I began to sift through the parts and pieces of these animated copper weaponry, and I could see the tell-tale signs of hand-wrought enchanting work. These things weren’t dungeon creatures at all! Someone had made them! Was this a crypt of some long-dead enchanter? If so, the knowledge it held might be useful in the coming battles. 

With renewed enthusiasm, I shifted my attention back to the dark tunnel and prepared myself for a dungeon dive. Additional wards for exotic attacks, my flight spell exchanged for a levitation one, recasting my invisibility spell, adding new layers to my existing wards that prevented magical fear or charm, and more. Even a new defensive ward that would respond to magical attacks with my nullifying lightning, a reminder of the three dead blood mages above. 

I had lost my friend Ram to a dungeon monster in the time it took to blink an eye, and I had entirely too many responsibilities and burdens to lose myself the same way. Only when I felt completely prepared, did I proceed. 

The first tunnel I traveled down contained numerous more enchanted weaponry, just like the ones I destroyed above, but I was more cautious now. I pulled at the walls of the tunnel and created barriers of soft earth that hardened when pierced, entrapping the enchanted weapons inside. A few went into my bag of holding after I carefully removed the death crystals. 

The swords were of a thick curved blade that had no guard. Their handles were hollow and filled with a cylindrically cut mana crystal, with a death crystal mounted on the pommel. From the enchantments, it looked like the mana crystals drew mana from the air and the trapped souls inside the death crystals which directed the movement. The shields and spears were constructed similarly. 

I was an hour or so into the tunnel, using a light spell to find my way when I came across the first deviation. Instead of the three types of weapons I normally saw, the entire tunnel was covered with throwing knives. The light from my spell glimmered off bunches of them as they scrambled about in groups. The clinging or chiming when they touched created a chaotic noise, and I just watched on in amazement. There were hundreds—no, thousands—of them! All in this one hallway. 

Of course, that made them easy to trap. I simply softened the earth around them and hardened it back when they touched it. Beyond the sheer number of them, it was also interesting to see that I could recognize the type of creature bound to the death crystal: rats. The movements when they moved, the way the tip quivered when it held still, it was clear to me that they were rats. Then, upon considering the age of the things, I recognized that it may be the spirits of some animal precursor to rats. 

The style of weapons, the enchantments, and the use of spirits all spoke to me that this was a cavern from a previous age. I had been in a few, but most of those known across Sena had already been explored. I was the first to discover this tomb, and if there remained a single scroll on enchantment or necromancy here, then it could advance my knowledge in those subjects tenfold! 

A few more miles of tunnel led me to another type of enchanted creation. This one was a suit of bronze armor, full plate, though the size of it was too short. The height was barely to my waist, but the length of the halberds they carried were a man’s height. Still, nothing that could escape being trapped within walls of stone and hardened earth, but the enchantments within were even more complex. I only took two of these for future examination and noted that the stylistic designs on the outside didn’t match any of the five kingdom’s art styles.

The tunnel carried on for miles in such a way, with odd turns that led down deeper into the earth.  The twists and turns looked as though they were carved out by primitive hand tools, with no worry as to aesthetic. It made me wonder if I would be coming upon an enchanted pickax or shovel soon. I was certain it had turned to nighttime when a came to a large open cavern, bit enough to house my reflection lake inside. 

My weeks-long journey made me miss sitting on my tower-top as sipping wine as the sunset. It was the type of habit that help me to relax and calm myself when my thoughts grew too jumbled. 

Yet, my lake wasn’t here. What was here was an uneven cavern that dipped in the center like a valley. Water dripped from stalactites in little rivulets into a shallow stream at the bottom of the valley. Here was the first place I had seen light other than my own as I traveled, and it came from low burning fires on either side of the cavern.  I had seen the lights as I approached and dimmed my own until it was nothing so as not to be noticed myself.  

Those fires revealed two villages of goblins, one to either side of the cavern, and I used my magic to float up towards the ceiling to take the sight in. I wasn’t certain what I had been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. The design and make of the weapons and armor were much more well-crafted than anything I had ever seen made by goblin hands. The enchantments as well, much more complex than any spells I had seen a goblin cast.

It made me wonder how this group of goblins came to be. I had heard stories of dark elves that lived deep beneath the world, creatures of shadows and whispers, but I had assumed that those elves weren’t affected when the gods cursed my kind to their goblin forms. The questions that drove me so far beneath the surface seemed to compound here, as I watched on. Inside the villages, there were pens of rats. A goblin would pick one from the pen with his hands, heedless of biting and scratching, and bring it to a long table or alter to kill it. On that alter was only a sacrificial dagger made of stone and a handful of tiny death crystals. It confirmed my suspicion that the daggers acted like rats. 

The more I watched, the more details I took in. Each goblin wore a death crystal tied to their arm, belt, or about their neck. Those crystals were larger, the size of the crystals used as the pommel of swords or the counterweight on the spears. 

Yet, it wasn’t peaceful in these two villages, instead, they seemed to be in the midst of an ongoing feud. Warriors from each side would dart across the stream at the bottom of the cavern and ambush warriors from the other side. Or kidnap what I assumed to be goblin women. The goblin children weren’t protected from this, either, and I saw more than one cut down or grabbed as well.

Despite the ongoing violence, I saw goblins that grew mushrooms, goblins that sharpened stone tools, goblins braiding rope from hair, and all manner of normal activities. Other goblins, tattooed with strange pictograms, moved among them untouched. Their sole duty seemed to gather the dead.

It was only when three goblin shamans stepped forth from the tunnel on the other side of the cavern that all activities halted. Three figures, each wearing armor made of bones and leather, their faces tattooed in poor designs, carried a woven basket in one hand and a staff in the other. From what I could make out, each staff was also made of bone and leather with a death crystal cut in the shape of an orb on the top.

Those three shamans went about their business collecting the filled death crystals and little else. When they departed, most of the other goblins continued their work as nothing happened, but the tattooed ones lifted the dead bodies and followed behind.  My focus was no longer on them or any but the magic users. Where were those shamans headed? I followed along, ignoring the renewed movements and noises of the goblin villages below.

First, through several twisting tunnels that branched out in unusual ways. Goblins toiled in these tunnels as well, mining copper ore and mana stones from the walls with tools of stone and bone, and placing them in woven baskets. A procession of goblins carrying these heavy stone baskets formed behind the shamans, mixing in with those that carried bodies, as they all walked forward. 

Strangely enough, it was a silent procession. I suspected it might be religious in nature, but I had never seen goblins worship anything that wasn’t a twisted idol or monstrosity. If that was the case here, I didn’t know. I had never suspected that anything they worshiped might be intelligent. What intelligent being would want the worship of goblins? The elder wyvern I had seen came to mind. It wouldn’t, but if a creature like that existed, then perhaps another ancient beast might. Yet, I found that difficult believe. Even if they did worship a beast, what beast enchanted weapons?

The next chamber that we came to was a stone bridge, roughly cut, that passed over a large cavern. I marveled when I looked over the side and saw that the cavern was completely filled with the standing suits of armor. Suits just like the enchanted ones I fought earlier. It was several armies’ worth of suits of armor, all precisely the same. These were enchanted as well but stood unmoving in the darkness. 

The goblins paid them no mind, and I only looked down appreciating the work it took to craft for a moment before I carried on.

On the other side of the bridge, the tunnel continued, leading to an unusual room. The walls here were cut with more precision, and the floor was flatter, even if I didn’t land to test it. Inside the room, the walls broadened to either side, and three things immediately attracted my attention. 

The first was the large pool of stagnant blood in the very center of the room. The goblins passed it by with nervous glances as they went about their business. 

Bodies of the dead were tossed into a shallow pit on the left, sloshing onto piles of other decomposing corpses. Around it grew other death crystals in numerous small, jagged spikes. Two other shamans stood to either side of the pits, both harvesting and cutting death crystals. 

On the right, lit forges burned brightly, the heat strong enough that I could feel it through my wards. Around those forges, the skeletons of ogres or trolls worked the metal or fashioned the blades, a beautiful working of necromancy. Stone bins were nearby and the goblins dropped mana stones in one and death crystals in another before retreating to the center of the room.  

There an elderly shaman, the sixth one I had seen and apparent leader of the group, sliced the forearms of each goblin before it was allowed to leave. Those injured, held their arms over the pool, dripping blood into it, before departing. The three shamans that had brought the filled death crystals joined the other two by the pit of bodies, and all began continued to harvest and cut the crystals. 

There were so many novel sights here that I wanted to observe, but the most novel of all were the double doors on the opposite end of the room. Those doors carried the same markings as the armor being crafted, and I was sure that whoever or whatever enchanted the armors and weapons was behind them. Did they work for the goblins or did the goblins work for them? Were they a prisoner held captive or a commander?

I had yet to feel the flows of mana I had come to associate with a dungeon core, but I felt them now. Not nearly as strong as I suspected, but that dungeon core was also behind the door. That was what I had come for, overtly. I considered turning back now. There were miles of tunnel behind me, and I hadn’t slept. It might not be best to challenge the last room of a dungeon in my condition. Yet when one of the skeletons stopped crafting weapons and gathered up an armload of spears for delivery, I swiftly followed behind. 

I wasn’t disappointed.

When I entered, I found myself face-to-face with an enormous suit of armor. Polished bronze of a size that would stand half my tower tall. From the inside edges of the open faceplate, I could see the metal plates were at least a hand’s width thick. A small dungeon core rested in the center of the breastplate, and spiral engravings adorned every inch of the thing. I could feel the layers and layers of enchantment it had been built with, though those enchantments were inlaid to the inside of the armor and I would need to take it apart to find them. 

The entire left side of the room was taken up with shelves and tables, the shelves filled with scrolls. Those scrolls looked to be made of goblin skin, and the handles were carved from bone. It would have seemed gruesome had I been anywhere else, yet I hadn’t seen any other good materials for parchment nearby. The right side of the room was glowing with an advanced enchantment, a spiraling pattern that circled the disc embedded in the wall. A disc made entirely out of a singular piece of carved mana crystal. While I couldn’t tell the particulars, it appeared as if this disc was the commanding authority for the army of enchanted armor a few chambers behind me. 

While everything in the room called to me to investigate, I was wary. I had been too overconfident in coming to Tervan and paid the price when the snake god had induced a controlled state on me. It was several long moments that I waited, but my wariness was rewarded. I began hearing tiny, tiny noises coming from the enormous suit of armor, noises that grew louder for a moment until it culminated in a squeal of metal on metal. 

The back of one of the legs opened up, and the small man-shaped monster that emerged was something I had never seen before. He was the size of a goblin, with pale white skin and pointed ears. Red irises darted around the room and he sniffed the air. Was this one of my dark-elven cousins? Were they of such diminutive size? Perhaps the confines underneath the earth made a smaller size an advantage and they purposely bred themselves for this form?

Then, the figure spoke, though I didn’t understand the words. The words were clipped and seemed to string together. I considered dropping my invisibility and revealing myself. Trying to negotiate a dialogue between us. I didn’t recognize the language, but perhaps he spoke mine as well.  Yet, before I gave away a potential defense, I cast my [analyze] spell.

Name: Crylus

Species: Vampiric Gnome

Classes: 6th Tier Sanguine Potentate of Necromantic Rituals / 4th Tier Enchanter Lord

A sixth-tier class! I had no idea what the strength of this individual was, but I no longer had any desire to stay and investigate. Especially because as soon as I cast, his eyes darted to where I floated. I slowly floated to the side, to see if they would follow, but thankfully they didn’t. 

After a moment, he walked to a table and dipped his fingers into a cup I hadn’t taken notice of. Those fingers then flicked the blood into the air, where it formed a rune and he cast a spell I hadn’t heard before. 

“Perhaps you can understand me now, elf-blood?” Crylus asked, his voice sounding smooth and harmonic. I noticed his eyes were magical as well, somehow attempting to pass through my wards to charm me even though he hadn’t even seen me. “It had been a long time since I have conversed with anyone else. I will not take offense to your intrusion if you grant me news of the world. This, I swear on the Seat of Blood, whichever god now holds that throne.”

The vampiric gnome, whatever that was, carried himself in a regal manner. His clothing was made of the tanned skin of goblins but despite it. Short, curly dark hair rested atop his head, and I could see that only his time inside the suit of armor had left it in disarray. 

“Of course, I can also seal the door until you starve. Or chase you until your heart bursts should you manage to flee. The choice is yours. Will you treat with me in a civil manner or are you of the wild-bred elves?” 

I wasn’t certain of his meaning when he said wild-bred elves, though it sounded like it was intended as an insult. Yet, despite the unusualness of his barbed question, I knew I no longer had a choice in the matter. It wasn’t the threat of sealing me in or of chasing me to my death. If I could escape, I doubted he could track me. Not when his home would be under siege by the pestilence in a matter of days. 

No, what truly moved me to action was his question. I couldn’t allow anyone to ever claim I was uncivil. I would not have my name tarnished in such a manner. The very idea was preposterous, and I couldn’t accept anything measure less than dignified should I be described! 

Without further hesitation, I dropped my invisibility spell and floated to the ground. There, I bowed slightly, a greeting of one equal to another. “Greetings. I do apologize for being too forthright in entry into your home. I hope to take you up on your offer. My name is Nemon Fargus, wizard, researcher, teacher, and, unfortunately, Alderman. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

We spoke at length, for several hours on all assorted topics. I proved a few articles of clothing from my bag of holding, and he marveled at their make. I recounted the histories to him, and he was outraged that it was the ninth age. 

When I spoke of my life among humans, and how pained I felt at outliving them, Crylus laughed! He claimed to have been born in the fourth age, the age of spirits, and while I didn’t believe it at first, his recounting of the time changed my mind. We discussed the use of dungeon cores, and he showed me the enchantments he used on his masterpiece while I showed him my Illustrious Core-Touched Mana Fountains, though he claimed he didn’t have the need of such artifacts, his eyes said otherwise.

Crylus spoke of being punished by his former master when his enchanted swords and armors failed in battle against a revolt of snake-men slaves. Of being imprisoned in a coffin sealed with enchanted silver chains to be buried for two centuries. Two centuries that had turned into uncountable millennia, to be freed not by his master but the effects of time as the strength of the chains failed.  He told me that he had spent the last eight hundred years rebuilding his army hundreds of times larger and stronger. I didn’t speak of how easily I defeated them, and he never asked. 

As the conversation slowed, I told him of blood magic and the kingdom above him. Of the coming Pestilence and how I had seen the Tervan’s blood god begin to battle—to which he laughed in excitement and claimed that if that god fell, then he could claim the seat for himself. I had nothing to say to that, and his eyes had grown wilder and wilder the longer we spoke. The silence after his statement stretched on for several uncomfortable moments before he looked at me and made me an offer I hadn’t expected.

“You are the first person I’ve truly spoken with in such a long, long time. You’ve brought news, and I will release you, but I want to ask first. If I offered you immortality by my side, would you join me?”

There was a desperation in the tone of his voice, one that I didn’t fail to recognize. I had felt lonely above, surrounded by intelligent humans whose only fault was that they didn’t live long enough. How must he have felt these past centuries alone, with only goblins to speak with? I was looking for a partner, someone to stay by my side, but I was also wary. He had spoken of a master, one who held power over him, and I suspected that he would have such power over me. 

“I am truly sorry, but I must decline,” I told him in an apologetic voice.

“There is a way. If you allow me to drink your blood, I can leave you with a few drops of mine, should you change your mind,” He offered with a smile and a very hungry look. 

I was no fool, though. I certainly wasn’t going to allow any sixth-tier master of blood, necromancy, and rituals to have a single drop of my blood. I did give it due consideration. If his blood held power, even if I didn’t drink it, then I could test it to see if there was anything I could learn to apply to my own [Longevity] spell. I doubted it, as his body wasn’t living the way I desired. I took a breath and grimaced as I began to answer.

That was when he lunged.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 25

The fools didn’t wait until I was done. I was only mildly disappointed. I had hoped for more wisdom. Instead, they attacked as soon as it seemed I was in the midst of crafting the spell. Likely, they hoped for a magical backlash that would render me defenseless. 

Yet, when I saw the look on their faces, it had been sufficient notice to prepare my spell in a way that tied off the spellcraft while casting. I wouldn’t need to monitor it. The manaflow was directed directly from my artifacts, the Illustrious Core-touched Mana Fountains of Superlative Arcane Might, to the working. My attention and personal mana could be spared.

More than the attack, even the direction of assault was poorly thought out. Once the mana left me towards the ground, other spells could potentially disrupt the flow. Such disruptions might cause a range of results from only raising part of the area to lifting random pieces too high. 

I didn’t have the time to monitor it as I flew back from a barrage of blood shaped like spears. The spears flew quick, their points sharper than needles and stronger than iron. Even as I moved back, they followed. Some missed their speed too high to turn. Others arced towards me as I moved, evidence of the difference in spell control among the three. 

I could have withstood the attacks directly. Perhaps I should have. The three mages took my movements as fear and gave chase. Each one recast their same spells and held them in threat should the first spells not succeed. Yet, I wasn’t fleeing from their attacks. I was positioning myself between them and my working. This should reduce many possible unintended consequences. 

Once I felt properly positioned, I turned sharply and allowed the remaining spears to strike against my wards. This put my back towards their rising city and left me facing all three as they came. I could see three vicious smiles through the tail ends of their previously cast spells. We watched each other as the last trails of blood bounced against my wards. It splashed away and fell like the patter of rain onto the ground below. Now I could better see three vicious smiles showing sharpened teeth, but their eyes held looks of grim determination. I could tell that those smiles were just posturing. They intended to trade their lives for mine this day.

A silent breeze blew through the air around us and the trio slowly floated closer. Faint cries and cheers whispered up from the crowd below. The second set of spells hovered around us, a deadly threat to many. I watched on as each filled with more mana than was safe for the spell to hold, making that threat even deadlier. 

Even if they didn’t cast, the backlash from doing so might kill them. I wasn’t new to the trading of spells. There have been many, many times, I battled with my life at risk. That they overfilled spells was a declaration. It was a signal that they thought either I would die or they would. To them, there were no other options. That was what they were telling me with their grim looks and inflated spells.

But how could I have not learned how to deal with potential backlash in others? I was a teacher at the Arcanum for a long time, and those students often overfilled their spells in ignorance. Granted, they were much lower spells, often cantrips and the like. Yet, it had been my duty to safeguard those pupils. I had developed spellwork just for that occasion. 

A lightning spell, because I needed the swiftness. One that would cut away their current casting so that it discharged into the air instead of them. One that was simple to replicate into higher-tier forms. One that was simple to alter into [Chain Lightning] with. I called it the [Mentor’s Superb Nullifying Lightning Guard]. The other tutors called in [Null Lightning], the butchers. 

I could easily cast that spell now. I doubted they had many, if any, defenses against lightning magics. Especially my advanced lightning spells. I could also simply cast [Chain Lightning], and let them deal with the backlash of their own spells. Just as I had developed defenses against backlash, I am certain they did as well. 

A part of me thought to consider that I was there to help these people. To attempt to save them from the Pestilence as repayment for my past actions. That nullifying their spells was the correct option. Yet, in the face of the danger these three presented, I didn’t dare hesitate. 

“[Chain Lightning]!” I called, and the spell flashed across the skies. Lightning struck all three mages. It bounced back and forth between them. I frowned at cries of pain. The blood magic spells reversed, attacking their casters.

Three mages fell from the sky. One woman died from taking the brunt of my spell. A man died due to the backlash of their own. The third died when she hit the ground below us. I frowned at the result. I turned back to the city, seeing its people watching on in shock and outrage. The priest still stood where he had been, but now two warriors stood by his side.

I glanced at the man briefly, and then looked about for further attacks. What I found was shocking. Of all the people in this city, I saw no more mages. No other priests than the one. The only warriors I saw stood next to him, their heads held tall and their stone hatchets held firmly in hand. Where were the rest? The other mages? The other warriors? Surely, I hadn’t just killed the only defenses this city had?

Hours of the afternoon passed, as I pondered that question. The guild of their three deaths added onto untold others. I pondered if the few extra seconds it would take to cast nullifying lightning would have been worth the risk. I could have pushed the spell to cast it faster at half the effect, but that might not have stopped them. Even if I had nullified their magics, was I swift enough to be able to save them while they fell? I hadn’t even been swift enough to save the one let alone three. I went over the confrontation with them over and over, sickening myself with new doubts each time.

I had been unprepared, and there was always a cost for that. Just as there was a cost for careless magics, like the fire I created that brought me here. The price, the tax, the burden of being a wizard seemed to only grow heavier with each passing year.

They were heavy thoughts on my already exhausted mind. Despite the city continuing to rise, and the people now going about their business, I saw no more of the Tervan’s military strength.  Not even a single lone adventurer lost in a strange land.  Three mages now dead, a priest, and two warriors. It shamed me to think this was what remained of the country that had defeated the Senan armies so long ago. 

It was late afternoon when I saw light glint from something far below the growing plateau. The shine of something metal near these jungles was unusual, and I had lethargically dwelled in my own thoughts for too long already. After I considered it a moment, I realized I hadn’t seen any metal in this journey so far, not since I had left Senan lands. The thought and the reflecting afternoon light grabbed my attention. 

I knew partly it was because I was eager to distract myself from the mental burden I had been considering, but I curiously flew closer to find a hole in the side of my growing plateau. It was an oddness given that I hadn’t seen the like in any of the other plateaus. Flat rock had been the face for each that I recalled, and only certain magic could prevent that from occurring here.

The hole itself was as wide as two people and barely as tall as I stood. The depths inside were unlit except for what sunlight shone inside. As I approached, I saw that the reflection I had seen before was sunlight bouncing off polished copper swords and shields. The weapons were of unusually ancient make floated about as if carried in the hands of ghosts. 

I felt necromancy in them, but not enough to power a wraith or spirit during the day. Instead, I used my mana sight to see that they were heavily enchanted, a curious thing. I had not seen an enchantment such as this. It felt inspired, and I immediately wanted to study it closely to see how it worked

Then, I stepped back from my curiosity as I realized. They had been so far from my mind today that it took those moments to place what I was saw. Yet, I couldn’t help but smile. This was a dungeon, one untouched for a very, very long time. It was just the thing I could use to distract myself with. 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 24

I raced through the air back the way I came with such speed that the land blurred beneath me as I traveled. Only the change in greenery that marked the Tervan capital brought me back from the state of panic I had allowed myself to fall into. I hovered there for a moment catching my breath and looking down on the city from above.

The last time I had felt anything close to fear like this was when I returned from my experiments over the canyon of hydra. Then, my body had reacted without my permission and I had succumbed to a nervous shaking that left me helpless. What I had seen now was so much worse. There, I had the knowledge that my flight would keep me safe, but there was no such guarantee in the face of the monsters I had seen battle. My mind and body were in complete agreement now that my fear was warranted.

I stayed there for more time than I would have allotted had I been in the correct frame of mind. Part of me wanted to continue to flee so that I wouldn’t risk the snake god’s return. Another part of me feared that the only reason I still lived was that their god had somehow ascertained my intent. I held no expectations of limits on power when it came to such an unfathomable type of monster.

I had even changed my mind with regard to prayer. Not that I would pray to it or any of the other gods—my elven heritage left me no desire to risk such a thing. Yet, I felt I could understand why people prayed now more than ever. Before, I had dismissed it as a form heartening oneself and a minor form of magic drawn from elsewhere. Now, I couldn’t dismiss the sheer potency of the gods nor their intentions. It made me leery of the symbol of Bi I had so haphazardly constructed in my tower and the temple that the followers of Elora were constructing.

The two monsters I had just seen also did something else to me: it had brought to the forefront of my mind the realization that this was truly the End of the Age. The ocean of hydra I had seen in the canyon, had done much to that effect, but it was still a far-away threat. Monsters over the mountains that I could experiment upon and dither with. Yet, now, I saw the pestilence pressing the Tervan peoples to the point they summoned their god. Yet, even with that being by their side they were not assured of victory.

My previous efforts to prepare the people of Sena against the tide of Pestilence seemed futile in the face of what I had seen. I wasn’t certain if the hydra broodmother was the only such powerful creature among them, but I doubted it. The plateaus I created might stave off the multitude of these monsters, but a creature like that could simply throw its body against the stone until it collapsed. My former apprentice, Baron Froom’s efforts to flee the entire world seemed to hold much more promise now.

I was so overcome by these thoughts and lost in my own mind, that I didn’t realize I had been surrounded until I heard someone speak.

“Who is this northerner who spies upon us?” Came a woman’s voice, though the ‘s’ sounds in her words were stretched.

The words pierced my attention, and I turned to see three bloodmages floating around me. Two women and a man, dressed only in simply leaf clothing that left little to my imagination. I never liked the Tervan’s level of indecency, yet I also understood that I had magics to cool myself where most of them did not. These three mages though circled me like wolves, their yellow skin shined under the sun and made the blood-red tattoos of snakes and birds seem to move across their hairless bodies. Each had sharpened teeth and red irises, but it was their magics that they held about them that gave me pause.

Each one had a fifth-tier attack spell readied. That meant that I was facing either fourth or fifth-tier bloodmages in a confrontation with little time to prepare myself. I had let my invisibility spell dissipate in my urgency to leave, and while I had enough defense against blood magic to not fear their prepared spells, it was the other magics they might have hidden that gave me concern.

“Look at his pale face and frightened eyes. He must have seen the body of our god!” The man said, his voice also stressing the ‘s’ sounds of his words.

I nodded once in response. I still felt short of breath, even though it had been hours since I had been above the coast. It took me a moment to parse my words, but these three seemed to be in no hurry, “And what it fights against.”

The man laughed, and declared proudly “Our god will prevail against the deep ones!”

Yet, he was the only of three laughing. One gave him an uncertain glance while the third, the first woman to have spoken was staring at me intently. It was when I noticed her stare, that her eyes widened, and she let out a long, deep hiss.

“You fools! Do you not see who is before us? His pointed ears? His eyes that glow like embers of fire? This is the Harbinger himself!”

I breathed deep and stifled a sigh at their melodramatic name for me, “That was—”

“The Harbinger! You come to strike us down when we are low?!” The man shouted in outrage.

I paused in my words. I didn’t like being spoken over, that was the very embodiment of rudeness. Yet, given his apparent volatile emotions, perhaps I should wait until he calms himself? I shook my head at the thought.

And the man gazed at me in disbelief, taking the shake of my head as an answer to his question.

The woman, the one who recognized me spoke next, “Then why have you come, if not to do more evil?”

My brows furrowed at her words. Evil? I had done evil? They were the ones that capture and sacrifice children! I light one small fire in a forest, and an entire country considers me evil! How is that—I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to refocus myself.

It was no use arguing with them, and as much as I felt scared and threatened by their god, they likely felt scared and threatened by the folk tales they told about me. I needed a different approach. When I opened my eyes again, I looked only at the woman who had spoken, ignoring the other two. “I have incurred a debt among your people and I mean to repay it. You ask why I have come, and I ask that you let me show you.”

The three mages eyed each other, unsure of how to proceed. I saw the woman who hadn’t spoken yet look down to the city below, her eyes looking at a priest there. The man was built like a warrior with teeth that pierced through parts of his skin, though his skin looked more red than yellow with all the tattoos that covered him. He nodded once up at the bloodmage, and it seemed the signal for them to back away from me. They didn’t drop their prepared spells or seem any less wary, but they did seem willing to let me work.

I considered first preparing more defenses, more wards to protect against the blood spells they had prepared. My defense should be sufficient should they attack, but I wasn’t entirely certain. I had spent decades after the last war against Tervan studying their magics and weaving wards that would hold against them, but these were higher-level bloodmages than the ones I had fought against. I didn’t truly know what they were capable of.

The current spells that they had readied wouldn’t harm me, but it was what they might cast next that was more worrying. Still, if I began by casting more defensive wards there was no way that they wouldn’t assume I was about to attack. I know I would if I were in their position. It was for this reason that I decided to focus first on the earth spell to lift their city onto a plateau. That was the entire reason I had come this far south.

I began by designating the area, the city itself with its tan, egg-shaped buildings, then stretching the area to cover as much of the jungle around it as I could. I estimated the amount of mana it would take, and altered the size so that it wouldn’t draw more than half of what I had available from my artifacts.  The mages around me tensed when I began to cast, and I glanced back up to see if they would attack.

They didn’t, not yet. I could see the look in their eyes, though. I had been in enough wars, enough battles to know. They weren’t attacking right now, but they would. I kept my face neutral as I realized this and maintained my casting speed.

I hoped they waited until I was done before they attacked.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 23

In my excitement, I had flown northeast for more than an hour before I stopped. Belatedly, I remembered my intention to head south into Tervan and lift some of the jungle people’s towns or villages onto plateaus. My return south was circuitous as I traveled outside the area I had found the alchemist rather than experience any awkwardness that might come should he see me again.

It was almost morning when I arrived at the shattered lands and saw the thick jungle from where I had flown, yet I didn’t immediately fly into it. Their god, I recalled, was a raven or crow during the night, and a snake with a head on each end during the day. While I had my most powerful invisibility spells and dampened much of my magical aura, I simply didn’t know what such a being might be capable of. I had no proof of the matter, but it seemed to me that my chances of successfully escaping if I were discovered would be much greater if I could fly when it could not.

While I waited, I noticed the odd movements of beasts and monsters in the crevasses below. Mutated snakes and birds seemed to be traveling south towards the jungles, while different jungle creatures such as great cats and unusually large reptiles were headed north.

I watched quick and brutal fights take place when their paths crossed but spent no effort to interfere—except on one occurrence where a young mother and her babe were cornered. I delivered them to a small holding nearby, all while I ignored her pleas to take the child because it was destined to save the world. There were no magical traces I could see which would confirm such a claim, and I doubted her words put forth for any more reason than she thought I would be a better protector than she.

When dawn did come, I traveled slowly and cautiously over the thick Tervan jungle. Bloated and twisted trees covered much of their lands, the greenery dark and foreboding.  I used wind elementals to scout far, far around me so that I wouldn’t be surprised, and through them, I could make out several unusual things on the horizon. The way I had traveled placed me closer to the center of the jungle country, and I suspected the very center more likely to find their castles or towns, but the height I was flying gave me a good view of much of the surroundings.  

To the west, through the eyes of elementals, I could see massive figures. Man-shaped creations of roots and vines that looked like the local dryads had combined their various vinemen to create giants that stood as tall as the trees themselves, equal in size to my fifth-tier elemental. They battled along the border of the jungle against numerous hydra, but both sides were seemingly at a stalemate. The vine giants regrew parts of their bodies that were bitten away by hungry hydra.  The hydra regrew heads and necks when the giants tore them away. While I wanted to watch to see the outcome, I turned east to search for their city.

I could tell I was growing closer to their capital as I flew, but was astounded when I found it. Their buildings, which would have been dome-shaped constructs of thatch, leaves, and mud, appeared more like enormous eggs when surrounded by the enormous serpent that was their god. The avatar of their god was so enormous that even laying coiled around the city, its viperlike heads breached the treeline.  

When I had seen the vine giants earlier, I had been impressed at the power of the dryads to construct creations that could compare with the elemental octopus I had summoned. It was quite humbling to see that either their giants or my creation could fit inside its mouth. The scales looked black at first glance, but the way they shined and reflected light made me uncertain—more so when I realized that I could vaguely see the impressions of faces within, each one stuck in a macabre scream. 

Then, the great snake lifted one of its ponderous heads and looked up at me despite my invisibility. The two eyes seemed to pierce my very being, and I shook in unadulterated terror. This was the gaze of a predator, a creature beyond even my understanding. Sweat began to drip from my scalp and my back.

To it, I was an ant; less than an ant. I was insignificant. Not even worthy to hunt. I felt my mouth open and tears pool in the corner of my eyes, as I fought against the sheer fear that ran through me. Those monstrous otherworldly eyes made me feel cornered, and I knew right then and there that not even my most powerful magics, not my wards, nor my flight could save me should I be deemed prey.

Then, the second head rose as well, thankfully not looking at me. I didn’t know if I could stand before both pairs of eyes and not be left a gibbering imbecile. This head looked south toward the ocean, and when it lifted the other head turned to face the same way. I watched on, still unable to move, as the Tervan god slowly uncoiled and slithered southwards, heedless of trees or rocks that stood in its path. The second head rose higher than the first, poised and ready to strike as if a scorpion’s tail.

I watched for several long moments, seeing the crevasse that its body had created around the city start to fill with water before I followed behind the creature. I knew it had done something, used some kind of magic to set me into a trance. It was against my better judgment, and a good part of my mind was screaming within my head to turn around and flee—yet I couldn’t. Instead, I floated, both in body and mind, along the trail of destruction left in the wake of the creature, a path no one could fail to recognize.

Soon enough I was gazing down at the southern coastline of Tervan, seeing turbulent ocean waters filled with hydra. Their serpentine forms curved in and out of the waters, churning in frantic motions. I felt startled by the sight, as what should have been peaceful waves were instead frothing and chaotic waters. Yet, the beast of Tervan approached the shore and raised its massive head. An enormous forked tongue flicked out of its mouth, and it let loose a hiss so powerful I had to close my eyes and cover my ears.

That single hiss was then echoed by the other head, and I felt blood pool behind each of the hands I held to my head. When I could open my eyes again, the churning ocean waters had stopped and numerous hydra heads were floating on the surface facing the shore. In the shallower waters, I could see the shadows of their bodies beneath.  Motion from the jungle caught the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to see monsters, the corrupted and perverse snakes and birds of the jungle, quietly form a line along the coast.

When I turned my attention back to the ocean, I could see the hydra part, forming a space along the waters, and that became the path to something I hadn’t known existed. From the depth emerged on hydra head three times the size of those around it. Then another. And another.

Before long, an eight-headed monstrosity emerged and approached the shores, its eyes showing far more intelligence than the others of its kind.  It roared in challenge as it emerged from the waters, though the sound felt muted, perhaps by my blood-clogged ears.

Still, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the coming confrontation. This hydra, was only a third or perhaps half the size of the two-headed snake god, but it didn’t appear frightened at all. If anything, it appeared hungry.

I let my curiosity get the better of me, and used a quick analyze spell to see what I could learn. [Greater Hydra Broodmother] was the name, and though it didn’t provide a tier, one of the hydra’s heads looked in my direction as if searching for me. If the elder wyvern was of the sixth tier, I wasn’t certain this creature could be any less.

I realized, after casting, that I was no longer in a trance, yet I couldn’t help but watch in morbid curiosity to see what would happen between these two mountain-sized monsters as they began to circle each other. Then, one struck. In a snap that belied its size, the rear head of two-headed snake god bit away an entire head and neck of broodmother’s eight.

The broodmother’s body coiled as if in pain, but it made no sound. Instead, two heads began growing back in place of the one, while the snake god watched. Only once the two heads finished growing, did the snake god snap again, but this time the broodmother’s other heads snapped back. The smack of their collision vibrated the very air around me, and I turned and fled. My curiosity could only carry me so far.

The blind panic and horror of the snake god’s predatory gaze, the ocean filled with hydra and their broodmother, the fight between the two, it was all too much. I was lucky to be alive, and I knew it.  The shock of everything I had seen today was overwhelming, and I couldn’t stop myself from shaking as I flew away from the battle as quickly as I could.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 22

Though his last words had granted him my undivided attention, I forced my face into as neutral expression as I could manage. Of course, I suspected another trap or perhaps an assassin, I was certain that there were very few who knew of my interest in such pursuits. Regardless of whether he was an assassin or not, I was too tempted by the offer to depart.

“Oh?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage.

Thankfully, the alchemist didn’t seem to notice anything and had already returned to cutting at the body of the dead hydra as he continued speaking, “My secret, my secret. Likely not as much of an interest to one such as yourself. Ageless elves likely need not such secrets. No, not needed. But it is the only thing I have to offer.”

I looked around suspicious of hidden figures that might lurk in the shadows as he continued to speak, and quietly used earth manipulation to close the pathway between two plateaus that the soldiers had escaped down. I added a few more defensive wards, not that they were needed, and then a few spells that would prevent scrying or eavesdropping.

“Ha! Showing immortality to an elf. Like showing a coat to a sheep. The irony isn’t lost on me, no not lost on me. You’re likely the only one I could show such a secret to. I told a baroness once, and she held me captive to make it. A baroness! Yes. A baroness. Two years I toiled under her, but I planned my escape.” More pieces of flesh and innards flew from the hole in the monster as he spoke. Sometimes his words were so low that I wouldn’t have been able to hear them if I had been human.

“A potion to turn her into a troll, ha! The troll baroness, killed by her own husband and the very guards meant to protect her. Funny, funny. Keep me a captive, will you! Lucky I didn’t turn her into a pig! Then, there were the other alchemists who tried to steal my work. Scavengers the lot of them! It’s why my recipes are written the way they are. Ha! I wonder how their guts melted, it would have been beautiful to—aha!”

I waited for a few minutes, considering whether or not I should have a glass of wine, while I listened to the alchemist struggle inside the beast. Slowly, an organ rose up through the hole, with two human hands on either side. By the time he had made it down the side of the body with his prize, I had eaten a few slices of cake and had drunk three glasses of wine.  The food and wine had placed me in a much more subdued mood than the giddy excitement that was bubbling within. I had a spare tome out and busied myself with sketching the man and his scenery so that I wouldn’t be overcome with excitement.

“Ah, almost ready! Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea, yes, it is!” The alchemist said from the ground next to what looked like the heart of the hydra. He then wiped his hands off on his smock and reached into his satchel to bring forth his tome to write in. After a moment, he paused and scratched his head with the ink-covered quill. “Excuse me, wizard, but what is your name?”

I had continued sketching while he wrote, but glanced up to him as I answered, “I am Nemon Fargus.”

“Ah! A name I have heard before, yes. Nemon. Fargus. I have heard that name, yes,” he spoke without looking up and continued to write.

I watched, but then it occurred to me that if he was telling the truth about immortality, I should also learn the man’s name. “And you are?”

He stopped and looked into the air with confusion. “I am,” he pursed his lips. “Pinio? No, that was the last one. Rulio? No, no, that was a while ago. Drumio? Yes! I am Drumio! For now. For today. Will be someone else tomorrow, though. I’m sure you understand. Can’t be the same name forever, or people will know the secret.”

He looked at me with a crooked smile when he said it, but then the smile fell from his face, “Or maybe you don’t know. Don’t need to hide. I must hide, yes, or they’ll know the secret. You? They know you’re immortal just by your ears alone.” He gave a forlorn sigh, and then his eyes lit up. “But! But I could give myself elven ears, yes! 

Would just need a little blood, and I could.”

His gave then turned my way, with an expression I didn’t care for. I almost said something, but he shrugged and went back to scribbling in his book before I could.  We did that for about an hour or so before he sat his book next to his satchel and began to withdraw items from inside. Potion bottles and tongues, herbs and droppers all appeared in a half-circle around him. 

I continued to sketch the man and his process as he went about the ways of alchemy, cutting and measuring different pieces of his ingredients and preparing them.  It was well into the night, and I had to use light spells to continue to see before he was finished. The final product, a purple motion that shimmered in iridescent colors on top was poured into three potion bottles, with enough for one more potion still inside the kettle it had been boiled in.

“At last! At last!” Drumio said with some happy laughter. “I can finally show you my secret! Ah! But I have to warn you. Yes, warn you.  After I drink this, I might—I might not remember the debt. But do not worry!  If I don’t, simply point at my journal. Yes, point here!” He made a grand gesture at the tome he had written in that rested on the ground next to his now-empty satchel.

I nodded my head as if I understood, but simply annotated his words into the book. I had nearly six pages of illustrations and notes from this day, far more than I normally write in it.  

Seeing my nod, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he began drinking the potion that had remained in the kettle. After it was done, he carefully placed it back into his bag and began to place other instruments there as well. I wasn’t certain if this meant that the effects of the potion would take place over weeks or months, or if they had already taken place, but I was surprised when he clutched his stomach and fell over.

Before my very eyes, his face and body began to change. What had been a worn man of fifty or sixty began to age in reverse. Hair, dark brown hair--not grey--sprang from his head as the old hair fell out. His wrinkles shrunk and disappeared. Many of his burn scars, not all, faded away to reveal healthy skin beneath.   I watched on with wide eyes and held my breath, as this happened.

In the span of a few short moments, he was done. I knew it was complete when he pulled himself up onto his hand and knees and began to vomit the foulest yellow bile I had ever seen. Afterward, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked around in confusion before his eyes settled on me. He made an expression of surprise, followed by confusion, followed by anger. I simply pointed at his journal and hoped the answer was in there. It would be a pity if such an accomplished alchemist, perhaps the only one I could think of that warranted respect, were to attack me.

I watched as he scrambled on his hands and knees to his tome, and flipped through the pages until he got to the last thing he had written.

The man sighed in relief and shook his head. “So, you saved my life?” he asked, his words tentative. Even his voice was younger than before.

“I did,” I answered with a single nod. My previous awe in watching his actions was still there, but I reverted to acting in an aloof manner.

“And I offered you this secret in exchange? How to make the potion of youth and three bottles?”

There was an edge to his voice now, though I didn’t know why. Perhaps he thought that if I felt greedy and lied, then he would be justified to attack me to keep his secret? I scoffed at him and didn’t bother to even answer. If he thought he could harm me, then he was a fool.

After a few minutes, the tension fled from his shoulders, and he sat down in the dirt. With a hand, he waved towards the bottles, “Take one.”

I raised an eyebrow in his direction. If this was the same man, and they looked quite alike, then I had heard him speak of poisoning a baroness and tricking fellow alchemists only hours before. Certainly, I would like to get my hands on such a potion. If I could test it on someone else in low doses, and watched more closely, then I might be able to see the magical effect in a manner that I could replicate them.

“It’s done. I read what I wrote. I know you have no need for such a potion. Yet, you have seen the effects. Maybe you’ll find a human you take pity on one day, or maybe we’ll cross paths again. There are so many possibilities—”

While the younger version of the alchemist didn’t have the habit of repeating himself as the older one did, he made up for it in long and rambling talk of intertwining fates and other nonsense. I didn’t listen to the end of his words, as once it was clear he wanted me to have the potion, I took it and left. I did have the good intentions to leave an illusion behind for him to speak at.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 21

Night had fallen by the time I departed. The two gargoyles that had accompanied me so far, stopped in their circling of the tower to fly by either side.  I rose into the sky and headed immediately westwards. The maps I had told me I was headed through the lands of Baron Pulk and further west were the lands of Count Hirkley.  

Baron Pulk had been one of the nobles at the Duchess’s ball who had requested I lift his villages and towns, though he had also told me that many of the villages were lost in the war. Where his lands didn’t have any quartz that he knew of, he had agreed to grant me the cores of any dungeons found in his lands.  Count Hirkley was a man I had never met, nor interacted with, so I could only assume that he would appreciate me saving the lives of his citizens.

It took me four days of casting the spellwork that would lift villages and towns to complete my journey westward into Freetoni lands.  The kingdom armies that had once defended the western Barony of Eistoni had marched eastward, and I could see the signs of their battles as I followed their trail from the sky.  Bands of soldiers, most five hundred strong, still scouted these lands, but I took care not to leave them stranded atop a plateau.  

The Freetoni lands were much more ravaged by the ongoing war than the lands of Eistoni.  Many of the lands in the northern half of the duchy were gained and lost during previous wars. Broken citadels and overgrown ruins of past keeps were more common than the villages or towns in these lands. In times of peace, these places became the hunting grounds for adventurers seeking to find lost items of power or slay monsters that had made these places their dens.

While I tried to overlook these places, many of them were sites of battles I remembered. It made me feel as though the places were haunted with the ghosts of fallen comrades and bitter enemies. I might have lifted one or two such sites onto plateaus as well, just because of those memories.  A few times I found myself floating above ongoing battles and fighting the desire to join. Now that the effects of the tea were controlled, I could recognize that desire as patriotic nostalgia instead of something else.  The armies of Mirktal seemed to be in a full retreat and only stopping to do battle when they could not escape.

Yet, I didn’t stop my actions there. After completely raising the towns and villages in western Freetoni, I headed south into Birktoni. I had already raised some plateaus across the southern part of this duchy, but I made a more concerted effort to raise lands closer to the center as I headed south.

Two things were pushing me in this direction. The missive from the king asking for assistance against a hydra was one. I had doubts as to his motives and suspected a trap, but that didn’t mean I would not act should innocent lives be at risk.

The other concern was the request from the bloodmage. I had put off consideration of any debt I owed to his people on the account that it was war, but the further south I traveled the more I saw wild animals, beasts, and monsters headed north. I wasn’t ready to open the barrel in my mind to consider how I felt if I had truly killed half his people as he said.  I didn’t know if I ever would be.  Yet, if raising their lands on plateaus to save some might mitigate that guilt if I opened it later, then I felt the need to do so.

I had been away from my tower on this business for almost three weeks when I finally came across the Hydra the king had mentioned.  It was a hot afternoon, and I could see the terror-filled looks of soldiers as they fled through the shadowed corridor created from two plateaus that were raised close together. I headed in the direction they fled from and found more and more signs of battle. Broken catapults and crushed soldiers marked the battlefield around a pillar of stone that stood eight times the height of a man.

The hydra curled around the base of that pillar, but its attention was at the top, and the heads snapped in an attempt to eat the one figure that stood there. At first, I suspected a mage, given the pillar on which they stood, yet as I flew closer, I realized the man was an alchemist of some sort. Beside him on the pillar were two crates of potions that he reached into and threw down onto the monster. I could hear his curses and vulgarities in the air before I got a good look at his face.

“Vile beast! I’ll not die today! No! I’ll make you wish the dead sea gods never birthed your kind as I boil your blood and grind your teeth! You have chosen the wrong enemy to make this day! Your scales will make a fine rug and your teeth a comb! I’ll breed your children with goats and feed them your flesh!”

The alchemist, between even worse vulgarities, threw another bottle at one of the heads, and I watched as it exploded in a great ball of flames that didn’t seem to do more than blind the creature. I could have let the fight continue, but I was afraid the fellow would run out of potions and become food before I could act. With a swift casting of my improved fire blade spell, I cut the hydra in half.  

The hydra snapped a few more times, not realizing its death before it slid down the pillar. The alchemist stopped in shock; a potion held over his head. Now that I was closer, I could easily make out the signs of alchemy. He had burn-scars across his skin and face, long white hair long-neglected grew in varying spots on his otherwise bald head, his eyes pointed in two different directions. A good alchemist, despite the wild appearance, as he looked nearly sixty and had survived his own experiments. He wore a thick leather smock with thick gloves and a large satchel across his back.

“No!” he screamed in outrage, “If you damaged its heart I will—” he paused in his frothing madness as he seemed to take a look at me for the first time. “My apologies wizard, thank you for saving me!”

I waited for him to say more, but the man quickly scrambled down the enormous pillar at a speed that made me wonder if I had mistaken his age. I had no love for alchemists, as a profession. The majority I had met never seemed to be right in the head, and could go from calmness to belligerently violent in a moment's time.

“You must have been who they were waiting on,” the man said when he reached the bottom. He hadn’t looked twice at me and seemed to only have eyes for the corpse of the beast before him. “Yes, yes. Eyes and heart are in perfect condition! This is exactly what I needed. Troll blood is too volatile, but this will be wonderous!”

He pulled his satchel from his back, and withdrew a long, thin knife, and began cutting into the monster. I watched him for a few moments, ensuring that I wouldn’t interrupt his work before I inquired, “You say they were waiting on me?”

The alchemist paused in his examination of an eyeball larger than his head, one he had been holding close to his face with two hands, to turn to me and speak, “Oh, yes! Yes, they were, yes, yes. Those soldiers were expecting you to land on that pillar to fight the beast! Ha! Imagine their surprise when they got me! Had their catapults and ballista aimed right at me and couldn’t fire a thing!”

I tilted my head to the side. I knew the answer, and yet I felt the need to hear it spoken out loud, “They weren’t aiming at the Hydra?”

The alchemist carefully placed the eyeball down on the ground and started moving towards the main body of the beast with his knife readied. “They Hydra, you say? Is that the name of this monster? Not the Pestilence?” He shook his head and then began to carefully cut away a section of the scales. I could see his arms shake with the amount of strength he had to use until he decided to climb atop of the body and apply his body weight into prying a scale use.

“Well, yes. One is a type of hydra, such as this one. The Pestilence is the all of them.”

The man grunted with exertion and a scale made a squelching noise before I heard a snapping sound and it flew off. The alchemist, unbalanced by the scale’s removal slipped and slid face down the side of the beast until he hit the ground. He jumped up quickly enough and dusted himself off before climbing the body again, though he spoke between heavy breaths as he spoke, “All of them? There are more of these beauties? What an excellent, excellent thing!”

I sighed and reminded myself that I had chosen to attempt to engage in conversation with this man. “Excellent? If you mean so many of the beasts that you cannot see the ground beneath them for miles around, then perhaps my understanding of excellence is different than yours.”

The alchemist had been cutting away at the meat beneath the removed scale but stopped in his motions until he was completely still. I could see my words piercing whatever layers of fume clouded his mind. After a moment, he whispered, “That many. That many is not excellent at all. Decidedly not excellent. Not good, either. That would be,” his mouth moved but no words came out.

“Bad?” I suggested.

His eyes lit as if he had just discovered the notion, “Yes! Bad. That would be bad. Very, very bad. Very, very, very, bad.” Then, he went back to cutting into the monster, throwing out pieces of meat or organs as he dug into the beast.

I waited for a few more minutes while he worked before I turned as if to leave. That was when I heard him cry out, “Wait! Wizard, wait!”

I glanced back to see him, his head sticking out of the hole he had made and waving his hand in the air.

“Yes?” I had dealt with enough men such as this in my many years to know that sometimes it is better to simply leave than waste my time.

“Wizard, you saved my life! You did! I was going to die, I believe it. I owe you a debt, so I offer you a deal! A deal you will want, I assure you! No alchemist is my match for a reason, and I will show you a secret! Yes, my secret. You must swear to me on your magic or your staff, you will keep this secret, but I can show you! And repay my debt.”

I didn’t necessarily feel that the man was indebted to me. It was true I saved his life, but if that was currency, then there were many outstanding debts I could collect on. Neither did I want yet another person walking around calling me savior. I weighed the matter in my mind for a few moments before I inquired. “How long will this take?”

That unruly-looking alchemist grinned at me. “Not long! Not long at all! I will show you my secret! The secret to immortality!”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 20

As I departed my tower, I didn’t see the Prince and his entourage still on the cliffs. It was a mild relief to know that among the young man’s people was someone intelligent enough to see them down from such a minor height. A part of me had feared that the Prince surrounded himself with others of his intellect and they were in the midst of starving from a height that warrior classes should have been able to jump down from.

The Prince’s absence did remind me of the two missives the King sent that were in my bag of holding. 

I hadn’t found the time to read them before I left, but the wedding was scheduled for tomorrow.  As long as I wasn’t drawn into too many pre-wedding festivities, then I would have an opportunity to read them then.  

It was a pleasant few hours of flight that took me to Goldcastle.  The weather was warm and sunny, the clouds were big puffy things that held no threat of rain. A cool western breeze blew down from the western mountains, and I saw nothing of the wyverns that had flown by recently.  

When I arrived, the town itself was in an uproar of preparation, as the townspeople prepared for the ceremony. For a Count to hold their wedding in such a far-flung area brought great prestige to their Barony, and the commonfolk seemed thrilled at the idea. 

Young lads were fighting with wooden sticks and barrel tops in the street, and young ladies had taken to dressing in dark-colored shirts and pants as they snuck about in games of hide-and-seek.

Imitating the renowned rogue-turned-baroness that would soon be uplifted to countess was an exciting idea to them, as she had never made public mention of her noble upbringing. To these people, it was as if the Count were marrying a commoner. It wasn’t unheard of for such a thing to happen, but it was a rarity.

Streamers of bright colorful cloth hung from nails on roofs, and many men and women were singing bawdy songs.  I could hear cheers rising as I flew over the town towards the castle, and couldn’t help but wonder if these folks would be cheering more or less if I hadn’t worn pants today. I chuckled at the thought, as I realized I was sharing the happy mood of the town.

The guards at the gate, bowed low when I landed before the building. It was odd to see, but there were three sets of guards there: two in service to Baron Aide, two in service to Baroness Nix, and two in service to Count Wilchrest. The runners and servants outside the manor all stopped to take note of my arrival, some with expressions of wonder I wished I hadn’t seen. Yet, there was little I could do, unless I wanted to address the growing crowd, so I nodded my head at the guards and waited for them to open the door.

It was two hours later, after an irritating welcome and an annoying ongoing feast that I found myself alone. While the feast had been one of exuberant joy and loud happiness, I simply sampled the wines long enough to be noticed before retiring to my assigned quarters.  The only thing of note was that I had been approached by a mage named Stelk, an apprentice or disciple to Alred, to provide a missive from the man.  

Thus, I found myself sitting on the bed, going through three scrolls.  The first one I read, from Alred, was terse and unexpectedly morose. Moreover, it contained none of the wizard’s tricks I would have expected. It wasn’t even warded against another opening it.  I recognized his writing, of course, otherwise I might have suspected a trap.

Nemon,

Natali is gone.

The invitation to visit remains, but I am not the same man I was.

Alred

I could see the tear stains that smudged some of the ink, and knew the feeling well.  With pursed lips, I placed that scroll in my bag of holding and decided to visit the man soon. Not immediately, though. As familiar as I was with loss and grief, that didn’t mean I enjoyed seeing others as they went through that first week or two of madness.  Three weeks would be enough time, especially as I had more towns to lift.

The two scrolls that had come from King had come at different times. My Seneschal had intelligently chosen to wrap a string around the first.  In the King’s last missive, he accused me of treason with the Seafolk and summoned me to the capital to answer for it. That missive I had entirely ignored. The sheer absurdity of it didn’t leave me with expectations that any further communications would grow fruit.

If he had declared me an outlaw for not answering his summons, I should at least know of it before a cadre of greedy mages attacked my tower for the knowledge in my library. I pursed my lips, undid the string, and then checked for traps or poison. Finding neither, I unrolled the scroll and read an even more preposterous claim than the last. This missive accused me of creating an illusion that the Tervan’s had summoned their blood god and fomenting rebellion in Sena City.

The most curious part was that it described the mutated monsterization of snakes, something I had experienced with the bird Alred had gifted to me as a possible familiar, and then linked it to the snake pits I once had used for my experimentation.  The missive ended with a second demand that I answer summons and report to the capital.  

While, the accusations and demands didn’t irritate me like the last scroll, as I now found them a small bit humorous, I did feel somewhat alarmed. That experimental pit that contained monsterized snakes could have easily become an unholy terror released on the villagers around my tower if I hadn’t destroyed the things. It was easy to see how close I had come to unintentionally creating a disaster. There would have been no way to defend myself from the words of any survivors if that would have taken place.  I only considered it for a moment, but, at that moment, I was relieved at my unintentional foresight.

I had decided to make light of any demands and accusations the King would have of me by the time I picked up the second scroll he sent.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t what I expected. This one, while not apologizing for the previous two missives, alerted me to the arrival of Pestilence coming across the border in the southern parts of Sena. While there were no outright demands or requests for action on my part, the tone and specifically chosen wording, implied apology and requested aid.

Even if the King never apologized or recognized my contribution, I felt the need to send word back to Loralie not to continue the preparations for the Unending Agony spell. I had no use for apologies or recognition.  I cared little for the man, but he was in the best position to orchestrate the defense of the kingdom against the Pestilence until a solution could be found.

The next day, I stood through the long ceremony that constituted the couple’s wedding. For whatever reason, the two nobles had decided to walk the entire way from the town’s gates to the manor leading a procession of nobles, knights, adventurers, and anyone of even potential note. I, of course, stood at the manor and waited.  

When they arrived at the manor, dressed in the most fashionable of ways, mages around me began to cast illusions of birds made of light flying upwards into the air. This was normally done so that the commonfolk would see the illusions and assume the blessing of Elora was being given to the couple, but I couldn’t help but imagine a swarm of wyvern seeing the illusions as a midday snack and attacking the town. Those wyverns had headed Northeast and not directly North, but I wasn’t certain how far they had traveled.

Rather than take the risk, I used my magic to create an enormous bird made from bright light and had it fly circles around the town. Its wingspread was at least triple that of the ancient wyvern I had seen, and I held little back in detailing its beak and claws. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes when the Priestesses of Elora throughout the town began giving sermons, and folks randomly fell into fervent prayer.

When the ceremony was finally finished, and after the celebration had begun, I found myself sitting at a table with Count Wilchrest and his new Countess. Both were in extremely high spirits, and I was happy for them. That didn’t mean I wanted to sit at their table and partake in their current conversations over local politics, though. Without hesitation, I withdrew the gift I had prepared for them and slid it across the food-laden table. However, when neither one immediately reached to open it, I became wary.

“Honored Wizard, I wanted to thank you on behalf of the Shieldings for restoring our title, the people of Eiston for saving them from slavery, and on my behalf for your part in introducing me to my new wife,” Count Wilchrest said with an earnestness that surprised me. Beside him, Countess Nix nodded along with a serious expression.

I waved a hand, “Think nothing of it.” I then took a sip of my wine and used my eyes to try to tell the couple to open their gift. As soon as they did so, I could officially excuse myself from the celebration and continue on my travels. I know I was letting my impatience get to me, but the King’s missive regarding the Pestilence’s arrival had worried me more than I realized. Each moment spent here could be an entire village of town I could have saved with a single spell.  I would not have people accuse me of drinking and being merry when hydra ate their children.

Despite my growing sense of urgency, the couple didn’t relent. They tried a variety of topics that I continued to brush away, until they seemed to reach some conclusion of their own. “Wizard Fargus, my mages tell me you cast the illusion of the Dove of Elora that that has the townspeople in awe. The priestesses have already performed a hundred and thirty weddings today, and count more than double that in engagements.”

This time, I did roll my eyes, “There’s always a reason. Now, if you will excuse me, there are many matters to attend to.” I gave a formal bow, the kind given to equals, to the new couple and departed. I had observed enough merriment for one day, and the anxiousness I felt regarding the Pestilence was only growing.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Interlude 1 of 3 - Baron Froom

I sat at the edge of her bed, listening to her shuddering breaths, but I had a hard time looking at my love. Instead, I found myself staring at my hands. Once strong and full of life, now they were wrinkled and spotted. I hadn’t looked at my hands in a long, long time.  Really looked, with intent. Now that I was, I realized that they weren’t familiar anymore. 

It was a part of life to age, I knew that. Yet, it had always been something in the back of my mind as I pursued the next adventure, the next spell. The excitement of fame and power.

“Alred,” Natali’s voice called, and it sounded stronger than yesterday.

I turned to look at her and hid away my pain to give her a smile. She always seemed to have an intuitive notion when I was becoming too disheartened. Not that it mattered this time, as the weight of her approaching death smothered all my other thoughts and shaded all my actions.

“You,” she spoke slowly between gasping breaths, “have too much faith in your old teacher.”

I knew Natali’s opinion of the man. Whatever words had been shared between her and that nature elemental outside of his tower she kept to herself, but it had changed her view. Before she had met Nemon, I had done much to describe his eccentricities, a way to prepare her for meeting the wizard himself. Natali had always been quick to judge others, and find fault within them—a habit that had saved my life more than once, but still aggravated me to no end.

Her reaction to Nemon had been different. Before she met him, she had seemed optimistic, almost excited about the prospect. Yet, whatever words the elemental had shared with her had shadowed her opinion, and she held him in low esteem now. It confused me, as I didn’t know why her opinion changed, but I still defended him whenever the topic arose.

This time was no different, “Too much faith? When I discovered the pestilence, it took you a week to leave my room. Even then, I could only react with fear. Goblins? Wild monsters? Those don’t scare me. Not like they do, and my reaction was to hide away. Even this place,” I gestured at the crystal walls of the tower. “Is a way of hiding. But do you know what he did? His first reaction was to look for ways to defeat the creatures. I spied on his work, and he was already developing methods to defeat the beasts. No fight them, defeat them. Even now—”

“Lord Alred,” my wife’s voice interrupted me. I hadn’t realized it but I had risen and began pacing back and forth as I spoke. Her interruption brought that to a halt, and I had to once again take in the image of my dying wife.

She didn’t let me dwell too long, though, instead, she spoke the two words that I had most dreaded to hear, “It’s time.”

I watched her struggle to sit up for just a brief moment before the full meaning of the words hit me. Then, I rushed to her side. The ceremony had been prepared for weeks now, and our current room was only a small distance away. It took much effort to lift her and carry her on my side. More physical effort than I had given in a long time, and had it been anyone else, I would have used a golem to carry them.

Yet, for me, no matter how much I struggled with her small weight, it had to be personal. With staggering steps, we left the small room with the bed and approached the field that had been prepared. Wagonloads of dirt came through the portals every day, to cover the crystal land that we had taken. To create fields for planting, and places to bury waste, but this place was untouched by either.

Four great stone pillars, wrought by geomancers with runic designs prepared by druids rested atop the thickest layer of stone in the quartz plane.  Seeds of every type we could attain had been brought and planted in the soil outside those pillars, but only a few had sprouted so far. It smelled strongly of dirt and stone.

Other druids seeing our approach stopped their work and began following behind us as we walked. She had discussed the ceremony many times before, and my part was only to help her walk around the pillars thrice before leading her to the barren center. Yet I still feared. I feared for her loss, for what I would do when she was gone. I feared for how much I would hurt, as selfish as that sounds.  

Despite my fear though, I lent my strength as we slowly began walking around those four pillars. Her aged and broken voice began chanting a druidic spell I had never heard before. I felt the power building in her, and then build the others behind us as they took up the chant as well. Their tone effortlessly matching that of my wife, and the rise and fall of their cadence seemed as though they were born for this one task.

I stopped focusing on that, though, or the walk. The burdens of my body left my mind, and I found myself simply watching her face as she worked.

I didn’t want to remember her as the sick woman lying in the bed moments before. I wanted to remember her how she was now. Strong, vibrant, determined. That was the woman I fell in love with, and even if her face was aged, it was still beautiful to me.

Three times we walked around those pillars, though my thoughts were elsewhere and I didn’t count. So far away from the present, I was startled when she turned to step inside the pillars. She was weak now, barely able to move her foot a step, but I helped her in every way I could. She was too proud of a woman to allow me to carry her, I knew, but I was still tempted to try.

It took over an hour to reach the center, and my wife could no longer contain the strain of the walk from her face. It was a look that left my insides churning. Yet when we stopped there in the center, she turned and reached one hand out to touch the side of my face.

With a sad look in her eye, she whispered, “I love you, Alred.”

I watched her through teary eyes and opened my mouth to tell her how much I loved her as well, but no words came. That didn’t matter, though, because she had already closed her eyes and raised her hands over her head. The effects of the spell were taking hold. Her body shuddered and changed. Her robe split open as her feet became roots, then tore further as her body grew to a tree’s trunk. Her head and arms reached higher even than the pillars around us as the spell finalized her new form. From the woman I knew to a great oak tree.  

At some point, I had fallen backward and was caught by a pair of strong hands behind me, the other druids no doubt. Yet, I wasn’t concerned with anything but my wife, even as the seeds planted around the pillars sprouted into vibrant new plantlife. Eventually, those same hands lowered me down to sit on the barren dirt around the tree and I came back to myself.

“I love you too, Natali.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 19

Three days passed by in a blur of excited experimenting. I berated myself for being annoyed at the interruption in my plans, as the inspiration I felt from seeing such a powerful monster was more than enough to replace whatever tiny ideas I had beforehand. Feelings of impatience were something I still struggled with often, despite my relative age.

The first experiments with petrification that I tried were all dismal failures, unfortunately. Breaking off a limb and repairing it back using earth manipulation didn’t result in anything positive once the squirrel or rat was unpetrified. The limb would either remain as stone or return to flesh only to slide away from the main body. If it remained stone, it would be stone attached to the body that weighed the creature down and caused it to drag the limb around.  

Further experimentation showed me that any damage to a petrified body was experienced in full once the petrification spell was removed. When I moved an additional limb from one to the other, it created a horrible gory mess—which was still an improvement from my fear that they would turn into an abomination.

Likewise, the addition of more stone to a petrified creature would not provide any additions to their flesh or body once they were unpetrified. The animals that I tested the idea on rarely survived, and the ones that did, screeched in pain. Creatures returned to life with stone melded throughout their bodies in disturbing ways only to die moments later. The only mild success was one squirrel that I had added a stone casing on top of, which was able to return to its normal form only to be promptly crushed by the stone that it had been underneath.

Given that stone was not living, and I could find no magic patterns in the spell that would cause an extension of life, it appeared that petrifying and unpetrifying a person would only halt their aging process at the time of the spell. It wasn’t any true extension of their life at all, but rather a period frozen in time. The lack of success here was a disappointment that might have left me perturbed on any other day, as it was yet another branch of magic that proved unfruitful in regards to furthering my own research into longevity magics. Yet, for these three days, I couldn’t contain my excitement.

I did find that summoning of an earth elemental into the petrified form of a being changed the elemental entirely. I had used a selection of four petrified rats and three petrified squirrels for the experiment and found that each elemental summoned into one exhibited the behaviors and instincts of the animal rather than what I would have expected from an elemental.  The fusion also corrupted the elementals in some way, making it so they did not return to the plane of earth upon destruction.

This had unprecedented possibilities with regards to petrified people, but I was loath to begin experimentation immediately. Would a petrified human possessed by an earth elemental act like a human? Would it retain skills and tiers? If so, then it would be far and above the benefits offered by golem guardians. However - would it retain its human memories? That, that was a line I wasn’t certain of crossing. Even if it could, and I could find a way to heal the moving statues with earth manipulation, I wouldn’t want to curse anyone with that kind of life.

Were humans aware of the world while petrified? I didn’t think they were, but the inclusion of an elemental could change that. I, for one, didn’t want to fathom the idea of being made immortal at the cost of not being able to drink wine again.

Then, there was the experiment where I unpetrified an animal inhabited by an earth elemental. The change was so unusual, I lacked even the words to describe it. I did, however, mark the experiment as something not to repeat. I didn’t imagine any of the gods or goddesses would be pleased in learning that a mere mortal had found a way to create entirely new species.

I pressed forward often with things new ideas and I simply had too many other projects and concerns to remain fixated on just one. For example, the spell I had considered making for nearly a century was prepared and ready to cast. Now was not the proper time to enact that particular plan, but it would be soon enough.

I was much more successful in my experiments remaking the Mirktallean artifact that from dungeon cores. I wasn’t certain what they had named the device but also didn’t have any illusions that it was a good name. The artifact’s function was to gather and store mana from the environment for a mage to draw from, something that allowed them to expand their mana pool. I doubted they called it anything more than a mana reservoir or some other simplistic term.

Of the three dungeon cores I had gathered for it, I only destroyed one in the process of converting them to their new purpose.  That particular one was an error on my part for not knowing where exactly the limitations on mana storing were for the crystals.  I had falsely assumed that since they were prior dungeon cores that they would stop gathering mana when they were filled. While the explosion didn’t harm anything other than my selection of monsterized Astrid Flowers, an experiment I was no longer interested in, the loss of one of the crystals was an annoyance.  

So it was, that once I had created the other two artifacts in more durable form, that I provided them with a proper name. Something that would echo in the annuls of history. That was how the Illustrious Core-touched Mana Fountains of Superlative Arcane Might were created.

I captured one of the mushroom men from my dungeon, since their war was long over. Or, perhaps captured might be too strong of a word, as the little creature had volunteered with exuberance. They had divided into two castes now, with one caste growing Asrid Flowers from their heads or backs like strange hair.  Yet, it was one of the normal ones, the apparent winners of the war who now commanded the others that I took. It had irked me that I had to wait for one to pass away before dissecting it, and I tired of the wait.

For such small creatures, they lived a seemingly long life. Which meant, beyond my normal curiosity, that their tiny bodies might hold a key to understanding longevity. Not that I would accept being transformed into a mushroom man any more than I would accept being turned into a statue, but that was beside the point. Unfortunately, the corpse didn’t reveal any answers in that regard. It did provide me with a much more thorough understanding of mushroom anatomy, and I was able to record several new types of previously unknown organs.

Yet, as with all good things, my time experimenting didn’t last as long as I would have liked it to. After three days, I had to prepare myself for travel yet again. This time, the destination was the town Gold Castle in the Barony of Aide, where Count Wilchrest’s marriage to Baroness Nix was to take place. Why they had chosen that location beyond it being a site of a military victory was beyond me. I would have held mine in the biggest city possible with the most extensive ceremony I could afford.  I’m certain they had their reasons, but those reasons were beyond me—and by beyond me, I mean that I didn’t care enough about them to stop and attempt to discern why.

I did stop and put due consideration into my gift to the couple, though, and had designed a set of rings that held an enchantment given to me by Baron Froom a while ago. With his understanding of the Baroness exceeding my own, and the weight of change from the coming end of age pressing down on us all, I needed to prepare a gift that would not only be beneficial to the couple but also easily transportable should the need arise.

It was as I was thinking the matter through, that I came across my idea. Baroness Nix’s age and time spent adventuring left doubts as to whether she would be able to produce an heir. It was likely a matter the couple had completely disregarded while in the maddening throws of love, or perhaps an arrangement that could be met by secret concubines. I doubted the Baroness had failed to consider the matter. So, I had crafted two rings of swirling amber, each holding half of a fertility spell. The same spell that I had been gifted as a solution to my own infertility.

I had, of course, made several changes. The spell wouldn’t function except between the two of them, and it would only function once a year. In truth, it was one of the most powerful enchantments I had ever wrought into such small things. I had them packed into an ornate box, with a hand-written note. The note explained the effects and was written in as fine of a penmanship as I had ever used. I hoped that this gift would exceed whatever Baron Froom offered on the sheer basis of its continued utility, the kind of gift that could become a unique family heirloom.

I dined once more, a succulent meal of roasted flame boar and buttered peas paired with plum wine, before I departed from the roof of my tower. It was early into an evening and a cool western breeze flew down from the mountains. The cloudless night let the evanescence of a field of stars light my way. Two of my gargoyles accompanied me on the flight, the recent memory of a swarm of wyverns still very fresh.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 18

I had just seen the young woman out and was six steps down the stairwell when I heard her scream. I stopped mid-step, and my foot hovered in the air as I considered my next course of action. Of course, I should go see what she was screaming about. Yet, in my heart, I simply wanted to keep walking down the stairwell to reach the laboratory I hadn’t set foot inside for several weeks. It called to me, as new ideas for experiments swirled in the back of my mind, like words on the tip of my tongue.

I knew if I turned around, those vague thoughts might never solidify into proper ideas. I closed my eyes and tried to force them up, but those nascent ideas slipped through my fingers. With a heavy sigh, I turned myself around and went back up my staircase to see what the woman’s scream was about. If it was over something silly, like a rat, I would be very upset.

Yet, when I opened the door and walked out onto the bridge over my moat, I only saw her standing still. One hand covered her open mouth, and her terrified expression was cast towards the skies.  When I followed her gaze, I saw what she did. Thousands upon thousands of wyverns were flying over the tower, headed northeast.

Seeing monsters in those numbers would have once terrified me as well if I hadn’t spent time floating above an ocean of hydra. Not that I wasn’t wary, I was.  It would only take a small change in their direction to go from flying overhead to landing around my tower, and I had few magical safeguards against powerful foes in such numbers.  

No, I wasn’t frightened at all, I realized as I sneered upwards. Wary? Yes. Cautious? Yes. Annoyed at the interruption in my day? Very much so. I turned and walked back inside my tower and headed upstairs towards the roof for a better view. Guards ran up and down past me, each carrying armfuls of bows or quivers of arrows. Philipe stepped forward to walk by my side on the second floor, awakened by the commotion.

At the top of the stairwell, six different guards whispered to each other as they looked out onto the rooftop. I could see and hear their fear clearly as they refused to take the final step that would place them outside the tower, but they moved aside when they saw me.  Given that I had an audience around me now, I stepped forward onto the rooftop with dignity and grace, rather than the irritated pace I had carried myself up the stairs with.

There were two guards, a man and a woman, already outside on the rooftop, both with bows readied but not drawn. I ignored their salute and relieved faces as I walked towards the center of my rooftop and beheld the spectacle above me. There were so many wyverns in the air that they made the sunny morning feel overcast. Most were fourth-tier monsters, but there were hundreds of fifth-tier greater wyverns mixed in.

I never much cared for the look of the things. They lacked the elegance of drakes. I had once attempted to correct the illustrations used in the adventurers’ guild and around the capital. Some famed artist had drawn them to appear as flying drakes with a scorpion’s tail, which was a misrepresentation at best. The things' bodies were shaped closer to that of a hornet’s, with a thick, bulbous tail. It was absurd that the rendering had become so widespread, especially as it risked the lives of adventurers hired to slay the monsters. Unfortunately, I wasn’t successful at the time, owing to the death of the artist. My attempts at fixing a misconception came across as an attempt to slander a dead man’s name, and no number of reasonable arguments would even be heard on the matter.

Just thinking over that time pushed my annoyance with the wyverns even further, and I couldn’t help but frown. Today was to be my day for experiments! I wouldn’t get many more days like this until my responsibilities with the Pestilence were completed, and those seemed to grow greater by the week.  Not that this was anyone’s fault but my own.

Soon, the guards and my assistants braved the rooftop to stand near me. I considered casting more wards on the tower and village below, but the wyverns showed no interest in us. I began considering sending one to fetch wine while I watched. Guarding against the possibility of attack wasn’t the most thrilling of experiences.

Yet as I was about to open voice my request, the swarm shifted. In the very center of it flew a wyvern larger than the rest. Its wings spread at least three times as far as the others and beat much more slowly than the rest. Curious, I cast an [Analyze] spell and was dumbfounded by the results. This beast, an [Ancient Greater Wyvern], was a sixth-tier monster! Even from the distance, I could see its head tilt towards me, and an all too intelligent eye met my gaze.

I couldn’t help but shiver with fear and excitement. I had traveled across Sena and Mirktal and Tervan for years in war. I adventured and fought numerous beasts and monsters. I had studied tomes of secret and forbidden knowledge and called upon the powers of the elemental planes. In all of my experience, I had never heard a word or seen proof of any being beyond the fifth-tier. I had suspicions, of course. Yet, those suspicions included suppositions that it was the tier of gods and planar rulers. The tier of dragons now gone.

Yet, here before me, was proof that this tier existed. That the world was still far greater than I knew. And if sixth-tier monsters existed, then it meant something even more important to me. Something that I knew would drive me forward for decades to come. If monsters existed at that tier, mortal monsters, then there must also be mortal magic. What outlandish new spells would I find? What concepts of magic and what complexities in spellforms could I learn?

I found myself elated at the prospects and filled with a joy I hadn’t felt in years. I couldn’t help but laugh. The laughter erupted out of me in deep, uncontrollable booms. I didn’t care what those around me thought, nor what expressions they made. I didn’t care that rumors of me laughing beneath a swarm of deadly monsters might find their way back to the king and nobility. No, I cared some. I just didn’t care enough to stop myself.

The thrill of hope and potential was burning inside my mind for the first time in more than a century, and that feeling was worth more than any amount of coin, or titles, or land.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 17

I didn’t know whether I should have felt guilty for petrifying Orwell.  My smile was enough for him to realize that he should take his place along the wall for petrification, but the only thing he said was a whispered ‘how did he know?’ said so softly I knew it wasn’t intended for me. That made me confident in my assumption that he wasn’t what he claimed to be.  

In fact, I wasn’t certain exactly who he was. He could have been a spy, an assassin, a thief—I wasn’t entirely sure who he worked for if he worked for anyone.  Yet I did know I couldn’t trust him.  It made me wonder if I could trust Rhaela the Red, who had picked him out from all the available assistants that had been nearby.

Either way, it wasn’t something that I intended to resolve this evening.  Instead, I took my dinner of wonderfully roasted mutton with potatoes, had a hot bath that was entirely too short, and turned in for the evening. 

After weeks away from my bed, I was asleep in mere moments and awakened the next day feeling refreshed.

The morning brought with it several surprises, not the least of which was a mild regret when I saw the stone bodies of Orwell and Murattita, if those were their real names. I wondered if perhaps I had acted hastily or if I could have handled the matter better. I couldn’t think of a better solution, even the next day, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Petrifying the two was only putting the matter off for later, and I knew it. It left me feeling uneasy.

It didn’t help my feelings on the matter when I saw the faces of Philipe and Drina made as they saw the statues. I could have chosen a better location to explain they would have to pick up on some extra duties than the first floor, but it was the best place for the other meetings I had today.  Still, the other residents of my tower were very tactful and didn’t broach the subject, the cooks going so far as to pretend the statues weren’t even there.

Kine was the first to enter, carrying a bag over his shoulder.  The man looked to be in high spirits, though, as he approached my curving table and sat down across from me.

“Good morning, master,” he said cheerfully. Then he paused as he noticed the two statues. He shook his head as if dismissing an errant thought and then placed the bag in front of me. “I wanted to show you something.”

“Good morning,” I answered, happy he was in a much better mood than when we last spoke.

Kine spoke as he began to unwind a string that closed the bag. “The village children wanted to do something to thank you, and came to me for guidance,” he began. “While I wasn’t certain what they planned to do before speaking with me, I noticed that you have an interest in unique clothing. It was my suggestion to them to make a hat.”

 “Oh?” I asked.  I didn’t expect anything from the orphaned children at all, least of all a gift. It had been a long time since I had been given a gift without some kind of ulterior motive behind it, so I felt a little excited at the prospect.  

Kine’s hands undid the final string, but he paused before revealing the present. He spoke in a conciliatory tone, “Master, the children want to present this to you, but I know how you are. I thought to show it to you before they did, so that you wouldn’t be too surprised.”

That warning didn’t bode well, but I was still excited. With a hand, I motioned for him to continue, and he did. He revealed a monstrosity; a disaster of epic proportions. The thing was so hideous, I couldn’t help but grimace. A single tight band of cloth at the bottom made a cylinder, but the top was outrageous. Strips of cloth of every color and type imaginable and been woven together haphazardly. Together the band and strips presented the general shape of a beaten mushroom, but the sheer unsightliness of the thing was far, far worse than the shape.

“Oh.” Were the children looking to mock me? Had I done something to earn their ire?

Kine scratched the side of his face. “So… you see the reason I wanted to show it to you before they presented it.”

“Indeed. Do they expect me to… wear it?” I asked, not able to keep the apprehension from my voice.

“I’m afraid so,” Kine answered.

“Hmm.” I stroked my beard as I stared at the most tragic form of headwear I had ever seen. Perhaps, I should ready myself to depart today before they get the opportunity?  I shook my head. No, it looked as though each child had contributed their own bit of cloth, and I didn’t want them to think their thanks were unwelcome. Most were orphans that had already lost much and traveled far. I didn’t want them to feel unappreciated.

And yet.  

Yet, the thing resting on the table before me was absolutely horrible. I could maybe wear it once for the children and then stash it away to never be seen again. Yes, that I could do. It would be easy to claim that I didn’t want to damage something so valuable.

With a sigh, I looked back up at Kine, the man sitting with a nervous and hopeful expression on his face, “Very well, but—”

“It won’t happen again, I swear!” he answered fervently.

I nodded, “Good. Is that all?”

Kine began re-wrapping the Death of Fashion in the bag as he spoke, “One more thing, a minor grievance. With your new guards, and the village raised, the men are complaining there aren’t enough women.”

I snorted, “And?”

Kine looked resigned as he spoke, not daring to meet my eyes, “And they would like to know if they could visit some of the flowering ladies from time to time.”

“Flowering ladies? The nature elementals? There is a good chance they will be eaten if they do. Are they aware of that?”

“They are, and consider it an acceptable risk—from my understanding,” Kine had finished hiding That Which Not Be Named, but still wouldn’t look me in the eye as we spoke.

It was a complicated request. On one hand, I hated the idea of anyone relating any part of my tower to a brothel. On the other hand, any man stupid enough to be eaten in the attempt should probably be removed before their idiocy created a worse problem. Or worse, before they bred and created an entire family line of morons.

I tapped my finger on the table as I thought about the matter. Kine waited patiently, though he shifted about in obvious discomfort. It took long moments before I made up my mind.

“I’ll consider the matter later,” I pronounced definitively.

Kine nodded once, whether in agreement or acceptance, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll let them know, master. Have a good morning!”

I bid him farewell and waited for the Sister of Elora to enter.  I didn’t recall this one’s name, but she seemed relieved to see me and bowed low.

“Good morning, Lord Fargus,” she called from her bow, though she remained bowed.

“Good morning, Sister, please have a seat,” I answered and gestured to the chair Kine had just sat on a few moments ago. Then I waited as she approached, sat, and spent far too long trying to situate herself.

It was only after her sixth tug to straighten the same sleeve that I spoke, “Sister, you wanted to see me?”

She didn’t answer right away, rather her shoulders fell. She placed her hands into her lap and stared at them for a moment. I wanted to push the conversation along, as I had numerous research plans that I would be looking into in my laboratory after this meeting. I also feared she was here to resign her position, and I was completely unsuited for that conversation.

When she finally did look up at me, it was as if she resolved whatever turmoil she had been facing, “Lord Fargus, the goddess Elora has sent me a divine message to communicate to you.”

I tried to hide my surprise, but I wasn’t certain how well I did.  The young woman continued regardless of my expression.

“The goddess wanted me to tell you to prepare yourself for betrayal. That a woman close to you will betray your trust soon.”

A woman close to me would betray my trust soon? With the presence of her statue nearby and the recency of it, I couldn’t help but think of Murattita’s act. If that were the warning, it came too late. Was it another woman close to me who would betray me soon? If it wasn’t the assassin, who could it be? Loralie? She was close by. Chelsea? I wouldn’t be surprised if she betrayed me by accident, but I doubted she would do so intentionally. Lilly? She had left, so she wasn’t that close.

The other assistant hired, Drina? That was possible. Orwell had been a spy or something close to it. It also called into question Rhaela the Red’s loyalties, as she had hired them both and volunteered to be a spymaster of a sort.  If I had hired someone else’s spy as my spymaster, how foolish would I be?

I thanked the sister for her message and departed for my laboratory. I could consider the matter further while I worked.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 16

The several days of my trip back to my tower were ones of quiet contemplation.  I stopped to raise more than fourteen different towns and villages along the way, but none took anywhere close to the power I used to lift the City of Eiston. I also raided three different dungeons for their dungeon cores. 

Only one was of the same size as the one I had taken from the Mirktallean mage, but I could use the smaller to experiment with before the bigger.  

The concept of having an additional source of mana to draw from while traveling appealed to me greatly.  At the moment, traveling beyond the range that I could draw from my tower’s supply filled me with apprehension.  I doubted that many magic-users had the strength to pierce my wards, yet if the mages in Sena City gathered in numbers and were commanded by the King, I could see the benefit of an extra safeguard.  

It was a quiet sunset when I set foot back onto the top of my tower. Three people stood on the rooftop as I landed.  One of the new guards was there, though I didn’t recognize the face, the uniform now matched my expectations.  I nodded in response to their sharp salute and turned to the other two: Philipe and Drina. 

My assistants looked happy, and I felt a little awkward having interrupted a romantic evening between the two of them.  Before I landed, I had seen them standing and staring at the reflection of the sunset in my lake, Philipe’s hand on Drina’s hip, and her head on his shoulder.  Both were young, and such things weren’t beyond my expectations.  

In a way, I was happy for them. Yet, in another way, they reminded me too much of the bleak sorrow I had seen in Alred’s eyes a week before.  The rigors of time and fate weren’t things they appeared to consider at the moment, and they bowed in greeting.

I nodded at them in return, and spoke quickly, “Carry on.”

I had already interrupted their moment, and any taskings I would give them could wait until tomorrow. With no small urgency, I walked down my tower steps to my room and quickly removed my trousers.  The vile things had perpetuated too many hardships on my legs, and it would be good to do without them for a while. My robe was also changed from my traveling robe to a more comfortable one, though it was more the air on my legs that offered me relief.  

I promised myself a bath later but knew that I might be lying to myself. The news of the Pestilence in the mountains had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I had hoped for more time.  I had hoped for a way to organize a defense and evacuation in an orderly manner.  If they came from the West instead of the south, then all the work I had done with totems and moonstones had been a waste of my time.  

My seneschal was waiting for me when I left my quarters, and I bit back a sigh.  My intentions were to check on my experiments first and deal with any other matters second, but the man’s presence told me there were things I would need to attend to first. It wasn’t truly a bother to me; I had hired him for this purpose after all.  

“Mr. Aide,” I greeted him.

“Lord Fargus,” he answered with a quick bow, but then stood and remained silent.

“Is something the matter, Fentworth?” I inquired.  I couldn’t recall him not alerting me to the duties of my position before now, but perhaps something significant had changed in the weeks I had been away.

“Indeed, milord.  Two additional missives have arrived from the king. We experienced a delay in receiving them due to the elevation of your estate, so I am uncertain as to their timeliness.”

I waved my hand.  I would read the king’s letters before I departed for my next round of land lifting, but they could wait for now. While I had been traveling, I had come across an idea that simply fascinated me to no end, and I needed an answer.  What would happen to a petrified animal if I added more stone to their form? What if I moved their features? Could I remove and reattach a stone limb? The ideas and more had swirled around my head.

It was the manner of death for [Grand Magus] Ison that propelled the thoughts forward. It was likely too late to gather the petrified pieces of the Mirktallean mage and attempt to repair him, but I needed to know if I even could.  From what I recall, his head was still intact. Even if I couldn’t find a stone arm or leg, if a broken statue that used to be a person could be repaired and unpetrified, then I may be able to replace his arm with another.

The was another spell that I had been considering as well, something that lingered in the back of my mind for nearly a century.  With the population centers being lifted onto plateaus, it would be the perfect time to begin using it.

Yet, there was one matter that took precedence over even the urgency I felt for that experiment, “Has Lilly returned yet?”

My seneschal glanced at me for a small moment before looking towards the floor, “No, Lord Fargus, she has not.”

I felt disappointed in the answer. Not in my seneschal, he was simply the carrier of the news, no I was disappointed that Lilly hadn’t returned. A part of me wanted to think through all the conversations I’d had and the time I’d spent with the young lady and examine them to see if there were things I could have done better. Was her leaving a sign of personal failure? It was a possibility. I had spent an inordinate amount of time on my experiments when she could have done with greater oversight.  

I did allow myself to sigh this time, if only a small one, before clapping the man on his shoulder. “She will return when she returns.  If she is not back within a season, I shall send an apprentice to look for her. Hopefully, she’ll return before her suitors arrive.”

“Suitors, milord?” The butler looked at me in confusion.

I waved the matter away, “Oh yes, but I’ll tell you at another time. First, tell me of the ongoings of my tower. Are there any changes that I should be made aware of?”

We moved into my library and spoke for nearly an hour in regards to the different tasking of my tower’s residence, so that I could sit and sip wine while he spoke.  The dwarves had requested a meeting to discuss the possibility of moving to one of the mountains, but I didn’t have the heart yet to inform them that those mountains were infested with giant ants. My other assistant, Orwell, was awaiting me on the first floor with something he deemed important, but he could continue to wait until I finished my conversation with Fentworth. Both Kine and one of the Sisters of Elora had requested a meeting with me upon my return, though neither were willing to provide Fentworth with their reasons.

When we finished, I took my cup of wine with me as I descended to the first floor to meet with my assistant Orwell.  The forty-year-old man looked as though he had paced back and forth the entire time, and when I arrived before him, he released an enormous sigh.

“Master,” he said with a low bow, one that revealed the entirety of his balding head.

I lifted my cup slightly as if preparing to toast, “There is something urgent?”

He rose and began speaking. 

His words felt rehearsed, “Indeed, master.  During my adventures, I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet with one of Mirktal’s two most powerful assassins.  The Barbed Whip and the Deadly Beauty, they call them. Fifth-tier women responsible for more bloodshed than—"

I waved my hand at the man, the one not holding my wine, and interrupted his speech, “Yes, yes.  What does this have to do with me?”

He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, and pressed his lips together as if searching for an answer. It was only a brief moment, though, before he looked at me and said, “Master, the woman you keep in the cell downstairs is one of those assassins.”

That was a potential annoyance.  I had thought that Murittita was an ex-slave of Mirtal, one whose will had been broken. If that had been an act this entire time, then I had wasted good time and energy in the attempt to coax her into accepting her freedom. If the other assassin was the woman I had sent to the Scout Commander, then it would make sense why I hadn’t heard from the man recently.

Yet, I couldn’t help but question it. That an adventurer recognized the woman was beyond suspicious, and tall tales were known to circle such communities. “Are you certain?”

“I can offer proof, if you would like,” he said and gestured towards the stairwell that led into the depths of my tower.

“Lead on,” I ordered and began walking behind the man.  

After we had passed the entryway to the kitchens, he slowed and whispered to me from over his shoulder. 

“Master, I ask that you say a few feet back, out of her sight for a moment. Her words will reveal her intentions.”

I didn’t respond, yet I did slow my pace some and took extra care to step softly.  Soon enough, he was rounding the bend in the stairwell that would place him in full view of the cell the woman stayed at. I could make out the room, and the magic barrier that shone around it, but I couldn’t see her face. I could hear them well enough.

“Orwell,” she said with pointed venom. “I see you can’t stay away. Come to gloat again?”

I recognized it immediately but was not beyond suspicion. Instead, I cast a quick detection spell to ensure the man wasn’t using magic to mimic her voice, but he wasn’t. No illusionary or other magics were being used.

“No, I was lucky to survive our last encounter. I would not want your anger.” Orwell said, with a small, sad smile on his face.

She scoffed and began laughing, “I see, I see. Even behind this wall, you so fear me?”

I took that moment to step around the corner and see the woman who had spent a large portion of her visit to my tower quivering frightfully in a corner. Her once dull eyes now looked excited, and her thick lips were lifted in a malicious grin.  Although, that grin slid away when she saw me. It was clear enough that everything she had done had been an act. A good one, to have fooled me and so many others, but still an act.

Her eyes darted between me and my assistant before she spoke again, “I see, I see. If this barrier weren’t in place, I’d have your heart in my hand, Orwell.”

The way she stressed his name when she spoke made it clear that she knew it wasn’t his name, which wasn’t quite that much of a surprise to me anymore. Shadow games of spies and assassins were always an irritant to me, and I tried to stay away from such wastes of time. That didn’t mean I was oblivious to such things, though.  What third-tier adventuring mage could not only recognize an assassin by her face but also survive previous dealings with the woman?

Still, it was odd for her to speak of the barrier as if it held her within.  I had altered it almost a month ago so that she could step outside the thing if she so chose to do so. It would prevent spells and skills from passing through, but it was meant to protect what I thought to be an unfortunate victim from anything around her—not the other way around. An obvious misstep, in hindsight. Not that she would have been a threat to me, even if she were roaming free.

So, what did I want to do with her? If I slew her in her cell, I would no doubt be forced to answer several questions, and I knew two lads who would likely be upset to find out I had done so. I couldn’t free her—not an assassin of that tier.  I doubted she would be of use against the coming Pestilence. 

I sighed and stroked my beard as I considered the matter. Both Orwell and Murrittita watched me in silence. It took me a long moment to arrive at a decision.

With a wave of my hand, I lowered the barrier, an action that surprised them both.  Then I motioned for them to follow, and headed back up the stairwell to the first floor.  It spoke to their surprise or curiosity that they both followed dutifully behind me. 

It was as we reached the first floor, I stopped beside my fire pit and turned to the two who were not what they seem.

“Murrittita,” I said, and the woman smirked to herself as if she had won some kind of battle of wits. “If you would, please stand over there, between the two windows.”

The woman’s entire head moved back in surprise, and her eyes flashed in muted anger. I could see the resistance to my request building on her face.

“Please, this will only take a moment. If I were planning to pinch your life, I would have done so below.”

That seemed to sway her some, and she took wary steps to where I had pointed.

“Thank you, now if you would turn so your back is to the wall. And position your arms like so—good! Yes, just like a painting. Lift your chin some. Good, now—[Petrify]!”

Now, I wasn’t one to normally decorate with the petrified bodies of fifth-tier assassins, as it gave off a slightly morbid impression, I knew that I could unpetrify her in the future. 

Perhaps once the Pestilence had rid the world of Mirktal.  Without allegiance to the country, she should be much more amiable.

“Master?” My not-quite assistant Orwell whispered from my right. For the first time since I had met him, I heard fear in his voice.

I turned and smiled at the man. There were three tall windows along the wall, and only a single statue between two of them. It wouldn’t be balanced without another statue, and symmetry was important for an audience chamber.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 15

I nodded in response to his statement.  The man wouldn’t have sought me out here above the city, if he didn’t believe it was needed. 

That didn’t stop my current tasking, though.  I had already mentally modified the spell so that it could raise not only the town but the terraced hills around it.  It would take the majority of the mana available from my tower, and half of my own to complete.  In any other circumstances, I would feel wary enough to double my defensive wards before this undertaking.  Yet, with Alred by my side, I was confident he would rise to my defense should there be any need.

I closed my eyes and stretched my legs before beginning my casting.  The time I had spent yesterday without trousers, still felt as though a freeing dream, and it made my desire to return to my tower all the greater.  A wizard should be able to wear a robe without such concerns, but that wasn’t meant to be.

Within the space of several breaths, my spellwork had been cast, and the grounds below us began to rise. 

I could see the startled people looking about in surprise, though they looked tiny from my vantage.  Another moment was spent ensuring the spellwork was working properly, and all I needed to do was maintain the flow of mana before I turned my attention back to Alred.

My former apprentice looked little different from when I had last seen him, though the robe he wore was of a more fanciful design.  It was a thick robe of dark blue with a very nice golden embroidery.  He also wore a silver necklace with abundant quartz crystals shaped into the designs of tiny petals and flowers, a druidic design that gave me the assumption it was a gift from his wife.

Taking my look as a signal to continue our conversation, Baron Froom began, “Did you know that the mages in Sena City are fighting in the streets?”

My brows furrowed. 

That was an odd thing to happen.  If two mages had a feud, they would normally go outside of the city. A group would normally take any grievance to their leadership to sort.  More unusual than the behavior was that he brought it to my attention. If mages were fighting in the streets, then what did it have to do with me? “Oh?”

“Yes, apparently revealing the nature of several fourth and fifth tier classes allowed many to tier up before they were mature enough to handle their new power.  Even those that didn’t use the information you provided on those classes were offered a new mage class upon third and fourth-tier so long as they studied your spell tome.”

That made more sense now. 

Many people simply weren’t suited for power at a young age.  It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of learning and advancing in their craft, but that they wouldn’t know how to conduct themselves afterward.  If my efforts to prepare Sena to combat the Pestilence had led to this, it would make sense for Alred to bring it to my attention. Yet even more surprising to me than infighting was the news of a new class. “What are the new classes?”

“Hydra-bane Mage and Pestilence Guard Magus,” Alred said with a contained smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I see,” it was interesting that the soul scroll system had recognized the shift in course of magic study to this extent. At another time I may have taken the opportunity to study what the limits were to such, but I had more than enough research already on my plate to fuel my desires for decades.  Still, I made a mental note to look into it further in the future.  Perhaps I could prepare a course of study that would grant mage’s a research assistant class that came with skills to better aide me. “What would you have me do?”

Alred shook his head, “There’s nothing to be done. Just be aware that it is happening, and that the nobility in Sena City treat it as though you are inciting malcontent.”

I snorted and then chuckled. First, the crown accuses me of colluding with the Seafolk, and now inciting mages?  Would I be taken to trial for every possible ill the kingdom faces? It was preposterous.

Alred, though, didn’t like that I found it amusing, “This is no laughing matter, Nemon.  My assistants are in Sena City securing portals to evacuate the rings, and now they need to hide themselves from not just guards, but unruly mages as well.”

I withheld my sigh and didn’t bother to explain my thoughts.  Now was not the time nor the place.   “I apologize if my actions have led to disruption of your plans.  This, however, surely isn’t what you desire to speak of.”

Alred didn’t answer immediately, instead, his gaze focused on the slowly lifting city.  I could tell he was deep in thought and didn’t press the issue. I watched with him for a time, the breeze carrying with it the smells of fruit trees, vegetables, and herbs from the terraces along the hills.   

“Did you know that the mountains stir?” Alred asked after a moment.

“The mountains stir?” I inquired.  Mountains stirring could mean many things, and I wasn’t about to guess. I doubted he meant the mountains themselves, though there was no doubt he meant the western peaks closest to his lands.

“Inside the western mountains are monsters I have never seen in numbers I haven’t seen before.  Ants larger than horses, with thick shells.  They crawl across the ground like a carpet. Each a fourth-tier monster by itself. The wyverns and harpies take flight eastward.”

That was surprising. 

If that was the case, then it made much more sense why few had ever seen the other side of the mountains. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder, “And the Pestilence?”

Alred sighed, “The Pestilence eat them as we would ripe grapes.”

That was disappointing. 

And unnerving.  It didn’t leave much to my imagination to know what would happen to the kingdom of Sena when the Pestilence arrives here.  I looked at the city below as it was almost finished rising.  We floated now much closer to the parapets of the castle towers than before.  A sobering realization that made my current efforts seem futile.  Even if this plateau saved the city of Eiston rather than just delay the hydra, how many others would still fall?

I didn’t speak in response, and Alred gave me time to take in the news and consider it fully before he broached another topic.  “I would like to invite you to travel to my new home on the crystal planes soon.  I have already sent an assistant towards your tower to construct a gate and gift you the methods we’re using to create more.”

He paused for a moment as I nodded.  My eyes were still on the city below us and the news he brought of the Pestilence already in the Western mountains.  That the threat was so close was a pressure and an urgency that made my tasks all the more important.  Certainly, I was interested in seeing the place where humanity was retreating to, and even more assuredly interested in securing my own method of escape should I require it.

“And,” Alred said in a softer, pained voice. A voice that cracked in speaking that one word. It immediately brought my attention back to the man.  Instead of seeing the proud mage that had stood beside me only moments ago, I saw a weathered, old man barely holding himself together. His face was wracked with pain and tears streaked down his face.  “And Natali is dying. She and I both know it.  What am I to do without her?”

New book available for pre-order!

For those of you who don't know, I have another story called An Old Man's Journey that I've been working on getting published.  It's been a long time coming, but it's finally close to ready.

Blurb:

At the end of his life, Charles was left with one question: What was it all for?

After his tour of duty and an unremarkable post-Army business career, Charles spent his twilight years watching old movies and waiting for his grandkids to call. He'd lived a good life, been a decent man, but now that his wife was gone he was... Lonely.

Until his old friend Bert introduced him to Crossroads, the new VR sensation. In this virtual world he can move without pain, explore new lands, and most importantly - see his family again. For as long as he can hold their interest, in this fast-paced modern world of instant gratification and VR thrills.

The solution: Build a place his family wants to visit. Armed only with a magic stick with game-breaking powers that should be nerfed, Charles sets out on a journey to find a place to call his own. Along the way, he will be mistaken for an NPC quest giver, become the antagonist in epic questlines, and attempt to teach the next generation proper behavior - even if he has to beat it into them.

This is the story of one man's search for belonging in his second virtual life. A search for a place to belong, and what it takes to get there. It's also a hilarious romp through online fantasy clichés that will appeal to fans of Ready Player One, The Wandering Inn, and slice-of-life comedies.

Because at the end of a man's life: What's more important than family?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09GP1ZHGR 

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 10

I scowled as I put on my robe, a white, silken thing with elaborate metallic frills that chimed when I moved. It was a gift from a lady I had courted once, a memento of easier times when I had fewer responsibilities.  A glance at the mirror in my room showed me that I looked as weary as I felt.  The efforts of the past week had taken a toll, and I had only today to see to a number of things before I prepared to travel.

I sighed as I took one last sip of wine from the goblet and turned to head downstairs.  There, I would be holding court.  Something I had no desire to do.  I would much rather finish reading the tome Baron Froom had provided me detailing what he learned of the planes.  The spellcraft to create portals of quartz was detailed in a way I could easily replicate, yet his notes also indicated the lack of land to settle on the plane he had claimed.  Lack of arable soil as well.  It was an interesting problem that he presented.  Even if we could move the citizens of Sena through, how would they live?

That wasn’t all I would rather be doing.  New possible experiments excited me.  The [Petrify] spell was much more interesting than I realized when I first cast it.  I had found the doorway that led to the spell that would reverse the hex, and now had several stone animals in my laboratory.

They didn’t age while petrified, and figuring out why could be the answer I needed for my longevity research. That I had only found the time to study it for a few hours was like a glass of wine just outside of my reach. It was with a feeling of dull acceptance, however, that I proceeded down my stairwell to my first floor.

There, on either side of my stairwell, stood my two new assistants. Both were dressed in shimmering yellow robes with white sashes around their midriff, a new uniform my brilliant seneschal had picked out.  Mage Orwell was a third-tier [Hydromancer], a worn-looking man in his forties.  His leather skin and balding head told of his harsh life lived as an adventurer.  On the other side stood Mage Drina, a rare [Aeromancer].  A younger woman, in her mid-twenties, who had served in Sena’s Mage Corp until she chose a tier advancement they didn’t agree with.

Her dismissal didn’t hurt her attitude, though, as she was more than eager to learn.  The enthusiasm for magic that she displayed was incredibly refreshing to me in a way I didn’t know that I needed.

Lilly’s decision to not pursue magic had bothered me more than I had known myself.  That she took off without a word to anyone two days later was even more troublesome.  I had been tempted to track her down myself, or send someone to look after her, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that she was an adult.  Between the magics she learned from me and her brother, she was more than capable of defending herself.  Whatever charm magics she may have learned from Rhaela the Red would only make her travels that much easier.  If she chose to return, I would welcome her with open arms.

I feigned a smile and a nod of greetings to the council that stood around my table.  Kine, in his finest robe, was speaking with the sister of Elora, Shaelra.  Loralie stood nearby, though a few feet away, as she listened to their conversation but didn’t participate.  With a reserved step, I made my way to stand beside my chair.  It worked well enough as a signal, and soon the three others stood in a similar manner.  Our guest today was royalty, and some formalities were required.  I gave the nod to Fentworth to bring in our guest, and he slipped quietly out the front door.

It was then that I saw Philipe peeking his head around the corner from the stairwell that led into the bowels of my tower.  He had a worried expression on his face, and his eyes darted around as if he were unsure if he should participate.  With a small gesture, I called him forth.  The man, now also dressed in a yellow robe with a white sash, hustled around the edges of the room until he stood a little behind me.

Despite breathing hard, he leaned in and whispered, “Master, there’s a problem in the dungeon.”

I was immediately alarmed. A problem could mean anything, and right before our guest’s arrival was the worst time that something like this could happen.  With the amount of magic power situated in the mana crystals and dungeon core, a small problem could cause an explosion of mighty proportions.

“Go on,” I said through clenched teeth, keeping my face still.

“The, uh, the mushroom men are fighting, master.  With each other,” Philipe’s worried tone was flush with uncertainty.  He’d been the one I assigned to monitor the dungeon this week, so no doubt he feared he had done something wrong.  Perhaps he had.  Though, more likely, whatever was happening downstairs was a natural progression of their society.

I nodded, “Very well. We’ll see to it when we are finished here.  Now stand back against the wall, between those two windows there.”

Philipe quickly took his position, and just in time, too.  The doorway to my tower opened, and my seneschal entered in a stiff, formal walk.

Following him was a young man of maybe thirteen years.  His fine silken attire was adorned with gemstones and gold that left no doubt to who he was.  Though, if it had, then his royal unibrow would have resolved the question.  A burly royal guard, and a servant in finer clothes than any servant I had seen followed behind him to stand at his left and right.

“Now presenting his highness, Grethrus Sena, Sixteenth Prince of Sena,” Fentworth announced to the room.

Yet before any could respond, the prince's head darted to my seneschal.  His servant, a woman with finely curled hair and a powdered face, stepped in and whispered into Fentworth’s ear.

Fentworth, disciplined as he was, made no outward expression before he bowed. First to the prince, and then to me, “My vast apologies.  His highness is currently the Fourteenth Prince of Sena.  Please forgive this humble servant his error.”

The prince sniffed in disdain and lifted his nose as if he were too important to say a word.  It was an impressive amount of arrogance contained in such a small gesture.

I gave a wan smile and interrupted before the child decided to demand my servant’s head, “Greetings, Prince of Sena.  What brings such an important figure to my small holding?” I doubted it was truly anything important.  I doubted the king would send children for important work.

The prince looked my way with an irritated expression, and then proceeded to walk around my first floor.

His gaze took in my assistants, the council, and then spent an overly long time looking at the geometric shapes I had patterned into the room.  He even bent forward to inspect the firepit and the elemental lizard within.

“It is a nice building you have here,” he finally said.  His voice was plagued with the annoying crack that came with puberty, but he didn’t seem to care at all.  “If it were placed in Sena City, I would purchase it outright.  Perhaps I will have one made in its likeness when I return.”

I wanted to sigh.  I truly did.  His statement was a compliment and an insult wrapped in one, and it took a surprising amount of willpower not to simply dismiss the child.  Yet, I didn’t.

I wasn’t certain of the reason for his visit. If the royal family were aware of the personality, then it could be that they wanted to provoke my ire to have reason to move against me. While I didn’t fear assassins or armies, I did fear an interruption in trade.  Having full stocks of wine was important. So, I waited, with a smile on my face.

“You know, when my uncle, the King, spoke of a mad wizard in court, it intrigued me.  The way he described it, I pictured in my mind a mighty wizard hopping about and screaming of snakes in the ground.  I laughed at the thought.  Yet, here I stand and you aren’t as funny.”

My desire to sigh had been replaced with a desire to scold, and I felt my tolerance decreasing with each word he spoke.  It wasn’t necessarily his words, though those were belittling.  It was the sound of his voice that grated on me.  The mixture of a kid’s maturing voice and arrogant tone made it painful to my sensitive half-elven ears.  I tried to console myself that he didn’t have control over it, but that made it worse.

So instead, I began to consider the various projects I wanted to complete. I had two additional Authorities that I could choose from, but I feared that choosing one now might lead to limitations in the future.

“—I did enjoy the view of the waters around your tower—"

The gains from choosing Earth were already apparent.  I could easily choose another field that would have a direct impact on the Hydra that were coming.  Yet what would happen when the Age passed?  Would the immediate choice of something to fight the Pestilence limit my future options?  It seemed likely.

“—The leaping waters and the shimmering fish.  What kind of fish were those?  I didn’t recognize them, but I’m sure I could arrange them to be caught—”

The worst conundrum was my longevity research. I didn’t even know what field of magic that spell would fall under when it was complete.  Nature? Life?  Yet, isn’t life magic in the realm of the gods? Wouldn’t they object? I certainly didn’t want that kind of attention.

“—The flower whores were a bit excessive, yet the novelty of them is unique, more than I have seen even in my uncle’s menagerie.” He kept talking while he investigated the etching in the stools and table.

I found my patience worn thin.  While possibly accurate, calling my nature elementals ‘flower whores’ was wildly crass. While I kept the irritation from my voice and face, I did interrupt him, “Prince, what is the purpose of your visit?”

I watched as his face twisted in anger at the interruption, but the child managed to get it under control. He turned to me and straightened his back.  Light from the firepit caught on the rings on his finger as he lifted and pointed it at me. He tilted his chin up so that he could look down his nose at me, and then he spoke.

“Wizard, I am bored. Entertain me.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 14

Before the mage made three steps towards the door, the Duchess’s commanding voice rang out, “If you leave this room, I’ll have your head on a pike.”

The bloodmage stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the Duchess. His face turned slowly to look back at her.

She gave him a vicious smile, “You aren’t in Tervan. My citizens would cheer your death.”

“Great and honorable Douchess,” he began through clenched teeth, though he didn’t move from where he stood. “I don’t think you are aware of whom stands before you. He is responsible for more deaths than I can count. Men, women, children. His fires almost consumed our nation. Even now, the priests whisper of the Harbinger of Smoke and Fire without daring to say his name aloud.”

“Oh?” the Duchess turned to inspect me.

I couldn’t help but sigh at the melodrama. More than a hundred years ago, during the last war with Tervan, our armies had been slaughtered in their jungles. Tens of thousands dead at the hands of their warriors and mages. Even more to the jungle itself. The Tervans left lifelike carvings of their creatures all over their jungle. Giant snakes, predatory cats and more. I had personally witnessed the deaths of ten good mages who had mistaken a real beast for a carving only to be pulled into the underbrush screaming.

It was after the generals had declared the war a loss and ordered our retreat that I summoned fire elementals to vent my rage. I was younger and more prone to anger then. Yet the leadership of that army used my actions to turn a defeat into the appearance of victory, claiming we had set them to the torch. I hadn’t realized my action resulted in the deaths of any Tervans, let alone the number this man claimed. The barrel in the back of my mind containing the grief of lost comrades in that war swelled and threatened to overflow with that realization, but I squashed those thoughts before the emotions reached my face. It was not the time for grief or self-pity.

“Duchess, the fire he speaks of did not come close to consuming his nation. Not more than a tenth,” I paused and considered the number, while I stroked my beard. “At the very most a quarter caught flame. Not nearly enough to threaten an entire nation. And that was a long, long time ago. I doubt he personally knows anyone who died, if any did. Tis likely nothing more than a children’s tale.”

“You—you fiend! Even now you show no remorse!” Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted.

“Enough! Return to your seat,” the Duchess command struck the man, and it was clear she used some type of skill. His motions were methodical as he returned and lifted the seat and then sat in it. Though, he never took his eyes off me the entire time.

“Wizard Fargus, please sit as well. We have one more guest that should hear this man’s tale.”

I nodded and took a seat in the chair next to hers but facing the mage. The chair was well cushioned, with a soft cloth upholstering it. It felt like a thicker type of silk, I couldn’t help but run my hand on the arm rest a moment while we waited.

It was only a short moment later, when three knocks announced the entrance of Duke Birktoni. The duke was a fat, greasy man with a balding head, though the hair on the side of his face was more than thick enough to make up for it. He also displayed the upturned, piggish nose, the feature of some noble lines.

I wasn’t certain why I hadn’t noticed him at the ball until I saw that his breath was heavy, and drops of sweat pooled atop his head. He must have been dancing, one of the areas that I studiously avoided going near or even looking at. Yet, the man appeared jovial, with his face flushed and his eyes alit with happiness.

“Good evening, Duke, I hope the ball has been to your liking?” Duchess Eiston inquired, with a little more formality than she had previously displayed.

“Indeed, indeed. Ah! Wizard Fargus. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he added with a small bow, as if he had just seen me. I returned his greeting with a nod. It would be improper to attempt a bow from my seat.

“And who else,” his smile faded from his lips. A grimace appear for a moment, before he replaced it with another smile, “A Tervan! A bloodmage by the look. A pleasure as well.”

“Most excellent and powerful Duke. I am pleased to see you,” the man answered, though he only took his eyes from me for a second. When he spoke the word ‘pleased’, the sound seemed to stretch. I wasn’t certain if it was a product of his dialect, or a difficulty caused by his sharpened teeth.

“Duke, please have a seat,” the duchess began, and then gestured to the bloodmage, “You may begin.”

The next hour or so was filled with the man’s tale. How the Pestilence had arrived on Tervan’s shores. How the priests of the bloodgod,Taol had begun to sacrifice everyone that wasn’t needed to summon their bloodgod to fight against them. How the jungle changed. That monkeys grew feathers and beaks, snakes grew larger and more grotesque. Panthers grew scales, and the priests themselves began to change. Their heads began to change to raven or snake.

That these priests lost their humanity and would take men, women, children, warriors to the alter. Even bloodmages weren’t exempt. How those sacrifices grew more and more with each day, until he and a handful of countrymen sought their escape in a harrowing journey north. He regaled us with the fight through a jungle full of hydra and mutated monsters, sneaking through the crevasses in the shattered lands, and turning themselves over to the soldiers of Sena. Then, to beg asylum here.

At the end of the story, the Duchess asked, “And your king, he does nothing?”

The mage sighed, “Most excellent leader, Tervan does not have a king. We our led by our priesthood, and the head of the priesthood is the Prophet of Taol. The god’s voice. None dare question him, even before our god was summoned.”

Duke Birkton’s good nature seemed to have a limit, though. His happy expression was gone, and replaced with a face reddened in anger, “Bah! Duchess, I just mustered my soldiers to put down a tribe of these folks who invaded and killed an entire township in one of my southern Baronies. They had left the town burning and all the occupants with their throats slit. Four thousand good folk dead. Your lands and your justice, of course, but I’d advise you against leniency.”

The duchess took a moment to sip her tea before answering him. “That is not at all why I asked you to listen to his tale. No, I wanted you to hear a first-hand account of the hydra. The very threat our good wizard warned us about while we stood in the king’s court.”

The duke glanced my way before dabbing his head with a silken cloth. “I see, I see. Well, wizard, what do you advise? The meat of my soldiery is supporting the king’s war in Freetoni, and what’s left is but the broth of young and old.”

The duchess raised her hand, “But a moment before you answer. Guards, return this man to his cell.” Two of the guards that stood around the edge of the room came forward and led the bloodmage away.

I watched and waited, and even as they led him by the arms, his eyes never left mine. Instead, he had gave me a cold, accusing stare. When he had reached the doorway, he shouted at me, “Death-dealer! If you have any shame for the killing of my kin, I beg of you: save my people! We deserve not the fate that awaits us!”

“Well, that was an unusual request. A bit like a stocked henhouse realizing their purpose,” Duke Birkton said with a chuckle and a wry smile.

“Indeed,” I added, though my thoughts were on his request. So entangled in the plans for saving the people of Sena, I hadn’t considered that the citizenry of other countries nearby might be in dire circumstances as well.

The duchess spoke then, directing her words to the duke, “Wizard Fargus was able to raise a township in my duchy onto a plateau. My people tell me it stands at least the height of twenty men. The whole town now rests high above the ground, protected from Mirtktallean armies, lifted in just a day’s time.”

“Oh? I would need to see such a thing to believe it. I have geomancers in my employ, but even they could not accomplish such work without a year of effort. I’ve seen them raise houses in a day or two, but what you speak of sounds like the working of a…” the man trailed off, not wanting to say the last word of that sentence.

I didn’t blame him, either. To even compare a mortal to a god was to ask for their wrath. “I have done so, and plan to do so much more. Many of your nobles approached me this evening asking if I could do the same for their towns and villages as well, Duchess.”

She snorted, “Their concerns lay with refugees and bloated towns more than defense of the realm, no doubt. Still, is this something you could demonstrate? Could you raise the city of Eiston as you did Gold Castle?”

I nodded my head to affirm I could. One of the benefits of feeding a dungeon core to my tower crystal was an increase in the range I could draw power from. The range would easily reach here. The conversation between the three of us that evening went several different directions. The Duchess was more than receptive to the thanks offered for the couches. Duke Birkton claimed that several townships in his Duchy had quartz mines, and he could negotiate shipments of them as payment should he agree to having his lands raised on plateaus.

When I inquired about the possibilities for Lilly, both the Duke and Duchess offered a number of relatives for possible courtship, but, sight unseen, I was wary of agreeing to anything. Eventually, it was decided that any possible suitors would come to my tower where I could inspect them firsthand and then introduce them as a possible match to Lilly if they met my standards. Which was good for me, because I was determined to be exacting in my expectations. The duchess also ordered several servants to depart the next day, servants who would serve as handmaidens that could teach her proper etiquette. I protested, but the woman had set her mind to it and I could tell she wouldn’t be swayed.

The next morning, after an excellent breakfast with hundreds of hungover nobles, that I found myself in the skies above the city of Eiston. Beside me, carried by a similar set of elementals, floated Baron Alred Froom.

“Come to watch and learn?” I joked when he arrived.

He cracked a small smile, “I came to ensure that you didn’t forget anything important. Like the cracked foundations of the castle.”

I took a sharp intake of breath. The foundations should hold, shouldn’t they? I wasn’t certain. I had been so eager to complete this spell and be on my way back to my tower, I had overlooked that. If they didn’t hold, then the entire castle could collapse and kill most of the nobility of western Sena. The king certainly wouldn’t overlook that accident, either.

Yet, Alred chuckled when he saw my worried look, “I took care of them last evening while you spoke with the Duchess.”

“Of course, you did! That’s what properly trained assistants do,” I answered, though I only feigned my good humor.

“Yes, well, that aside, there is much to discuss,” Alred answered as the smile fell away from his face.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 13

The tables were laden with all sorts of delectable treats that I hadn’t seen since I moved from Sena City.  I directed the servant stationed there to load my platter with such joys as boiled Birktoni snails, candied yams, and fried clams fished from Laxton Bay.    The aromas mixed together in a way that made my mouth water, and each was presented in such a fashion as if the cook were not just making food but art.  

I also had four different rare vintages to choose from, each with its own merits and pairings.  A very astute servant had appeared at my side, and her sole purpose was simply to hold a plate with my four wine glasses for me. 

I stood not far from the tables as I ate, and it was as I slurped on my third snail that some of the nobility began to approach me.  First were two gentlemen, aldermen or poorer barons by their clothing, that stood nearby speaking of the ongoings in their lands.  A harmless conversation, but one I could tell felt forced as they positioned themselves to include me at a moment’s notice.

“…this sheep followed his wife to their neighbor’s house, it for some reason decided to stay there.  Both families were clear that it wasn’t theft. 

Yet the owner of the calf demanded restitution.  Claimed the animal had betrayed him. The other farmer said it wasn’t his fault the sheep liked him better, and that it should be allowed to stay if he wanted.” One of the men spoke in an aminated fashion.

“So, to which side did you judge?” the other asked, though it was clear he lacked any real interest.

“Well, I put the calf on trial and declared it a traitor.  Had it served for supper, and compensated the first for his loss,” the noblemen said with a loud laugh.

I lost any interest and picked at the clams.  I couldn’t help but hope they had been transported live, as the batter they were fried in prevented me from determining if the clam itself might have been spoiled.

“Wizard Fargus?”

The young woman’s voice attracted my attention, and I looked up to see a young lady of maybe sixteen with the lighter skin tones and facial features more often seen among the Mirktallean. 

She had delicate skin and long dark hair with blue eyes. Certainly, many others would find it attractive.

“I have a very particular issue, and I was wondering if you might be willing to help me resolve it,” she said and bit her lip. While she appeared slightly nervous, I doubted it was more than an act.

I gestured at her with a piece of crawfish I had speared with a fork, “Go on.”

“I am Lady Bushwah, Calleri Bushwah.  My father was a baron before he… passed.  Count Lahal now administers our lands until I marry,” She began and stopped to look at me as if I should know about what she spoke of.  When I didn’t do more than continue to look at her and wait, she continued.

“However, I find myself in a difficult place. I cannot marry, for I find myself with a rare and unusual affliction,” she spoke as she moved closer, her voice growing to a whisper.  

I had already discounted her a potential assassin, so her moving closer hadn’t bothered me.  I also carried in my bag a wand of [Cure Disease], so any affliction would be easy enough to resolve.  Yet, any priest could also cast the spell, so there was no needed to seek me out for that.  I curse or a hex, maybe, but I would need the details to be able to resolve it. “An affliction, you say?”

She leaned in even closer and stood on her toes so that her cupped hand would be closer to my ear. Her words were whispered now, as though giving the world’s greatest secret, “Yes, Lord Wizard, I find myself attracted to other maidens, more so than gentlemen. 

In fact, I hold no place in my heart for any man other than my father. It makes courting them ever so difficult. As I am, I could never find happiness in romance with a man. Do you think that your magic could help me?”

I sighed.  Certainly, there were humans of one gender that only felt romantic emotions to that same gender. I had even captured one once to test if there were a magical reason for the occurrence. Once I found there wasn’t, I further examined the anatomy to see if there were an extra organ or such, but found none either.  After that, I lost all interest.  It wasn’t the most unusual of human proclivities, and without a magical cause, it wasn’t for me to study.  

Yet, her question did lead to an interesting idea.  I handed my platter to a nearby servant to hold and withdrew a tome I used to track my various ideas for future spellworks.  With a pen I had magicked to hold ink, I scribbled furiously. I didn’t want to forget the idea when the next noble-born idiot came to take up my time.

There existed a curse that would cause everything a person ate to taste like ash. It was a second-tier spell that I had remade from a witch’s hex.  Even though I didn’t know the reasoning, that it existed at all proved there may be a way to cast a spell that alters the very perception of the people around me.  If I developed such a spell, then I could possibly rid the world of carrots.  I never understood how others could enjoy eating those things.    

When I finished writing, I took back my platter and saw the lady still awaited an answer from me. I gave her a look I hoped contained sympathy and answered, “I’m sorry, my dear, but marriage isn’t about romance and happiness.”

“You will do nothing?”

“There is nothing I can do and no magical solution can change who you are.”

Her previous demeanor of pleasantry disappeared in an instant and her face clouded with scorn. She hissed her words at me, “You are only an alderman, I could order you to do so.”

I used my fork to spear another bit of crawfish and then gestured at her with it, “And you, young lady, I could turn into a fish in a blink of your eye.”

Her eyes widened, and without a good response, she turned around abruptly to walk away.  Certainly, it was a threat I wouldn’t have kept.  A fish would suffocate quickly on land.  A squirrel would be too difficult to catch without using a subsequent sleeping spell.  No, if I changed to her anything, it would have been a sheep.  I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see if a sheep’s brain could hold a human’s mind, and that would be interesting to learn.  

The irony of telling the young lady that there was no magical way to change who she was and then threatening to turn her into a fish was not lost on me.  I did wait a few good moments to chortle about it before I resumed my meal.  Or tried to.

Over the next few hours, I was approached by many nobles.  Sometimes alone and sometimes in groups.  While I had feared they would try to bring similar concerns as that young woman did, that didn’t turn out to be the case.  Instead, they offered me thanks for my part in the battle and inquired as to the cost of raising their towns and villages onto plateaus.  

I negotiated some, but not with any real emotion.  I had already planned to raise towns and villages throughout Sena to save who I could from the threat of the pestilence.  That the nobility offered me payment for my services was only proper, of course, but I would not deny any who could not afford it.  

It was only after I had finished my meal, that a servant came to touch my arm, “The duchess would like a word with you Wizard Fargus.”

I raised an eyebrow in response.

“This way, if you please,” he said with a bow.

Soon we were weaving in and around guests towards the doorway the duchess had made her entrance from a few hours ago.  As we approached, the door opened and Baron Froom came out of the room.

“Nemon,” he said with a nod as we walked back into the ball.

“Alred,” I answered him with the same nod.  The servant stopped outside the heavy oaken door and nodded three times on it before opening it for me.  As I entered, I saw a sitting room that had been prepared away from the noise and activity of the ball.  A light blue plaster and several ornate tapestries were on the walls. A plush red carpet covered the floor.  Several fine chairs were placed around a low table, but I could see the indentations left on the carpet where a couch used to sit.  

The table had a tea set prepared, and in one chair sat Duchess Eiston in all her glory. The woman looked much better without tearstains on her face, and the golden-colored gown she wore complimented her face.  Several guards stood at attention along the walls, but none of these things were what drew my eyes.  Rather, my focus was instantly on the man sitting in a chair opposite of the duchess.

His dark skin tones, shaved head, and clothing made from large, flat leaves immediately gave him away as Tervan. 

When he saw me and his eyes grew wide and his face panicked, it revealed the teeth filed to sharp points.  The sign of a Tervan Bloodmage.  

“The—the Harbinger! 

You brought this villain here!” He hissed in a terror. His chair fell backward to the ground as leaped from his seat to flee.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 12

I stood at the entrance to the dungeon doing my best to contain the urge to stare in amazement. 

I had seen a lot of things in my long life, but this was a reminder that I had not seen it all.  Of course, I couldn’t let the emotion show on my face. 

Beside me, Philipe stood as well. 

Every few seconds he’d glance nervously at me and then return his gaze to the sight that captivated us both.

Past the barrier into the dungeon, in its main circular room, two forces battled. The growing Asrid Flowers appeared like a forest surrounding their battleground. The two opposing sides, each comprised of shin-high mushroom men, looked identical.  I could see no weapons or magic being used, rather they uselessly beat against one another.  The soft bodies of these people seemed to spring back from any strike without issue.  

Every once in a while, one of the bodies would fly across the room to bounce against the wall or the floor.  A victim of another who had used his mushroom cap head to flip his enemy away.  Not that it did any harm either, as the victim would stand and charge back into the fray. The only sound heard was the soft patter of mushroom violence.

“Hmmm,” I knelt to get a better view of the combat, though it didn’t help.  There were too many tiny arms and legs bouncing back and forth for me to find a difference between them.  I could imagine that if I were under attack by either army, that their strikes would feel no different than someone tapping a finger on my shoulder.

“They’ve been doing this all day, master,” Phillipe spoke softly, his words came as his eyes tracked yet another flying mushroom man.  This one flew back into a wall and bounced twice on the floor.  After a moment, it stood to shake its head before quickly waddling back towards the fight.  

 “I… see,” I stroked my hand through my beard.  One mushroom man fell to the ground and pretended to die. 

Its arm reaching upward in an imitation of a fallen soldier asking for help before shuddering and falling still. 

When none of its comrades came to its aide, it rolled away, leaped up, and resumed its attack.   

This would be an interesting study.  What had inspired them to violence?  I had seen them use tiny weapons and fight against insects in their arena.  What was stopping them from using an insect to fight with?  Was this some kind of mating ritual?  Was this a game? An act? Did it have to do with Lilly’s sudden departure? I shook away my thoughts, now was not the time.

“Very well.  Continue to monitor them without interfering. and write a report for me when I return. Also, should any actually fall in this,” I paused.  The word was on the tips of my tongue, but I felt hesitant to say it. I did say it, but couldn’t keep the mirth from my voice, “battle.” I coughed once into my fist so that I could maintain a sense of decorum before continuing, “then please obtain the corpse.  I haven’t yet had the opportunity to dissect one.”

Philipe’s eyes were filled with contained laughter as he answered, “Yes, master.”

The day I had departed my tower had been tumultuous, and I only felt ready an hour after sunrise.   It was a cool morning, with light sprinkles falling from thundering clouds.  The weather had promised a heavier rain later in the day, but I wouldn’t be here for it, which was a pity.  Afternoon thunderstorms provided an excellent atmosphere for napping.  This weather continued for nearly the entirety of my weeklong trip, making it a dreary journey indeed.  A journey made worse by the need to wear pants the whole time.

When I had left, my self-given mission was fourfold.  I had used the entirety of the more than two hundred of the totems prepared.  Even warded them with defensive magics to prevent the items from being damaged, though I didn’t know how well that would hold against the Pestilence.   

I intended to learn what I could of the ongoings of Tervan from the border, as the redness in the skies hadn’t yet abated, but aside from a smattering of refugees struggling north, I couldn’t see far into their lands.   

I also raised any smaller towns and villages along the way, lifting them onto plateaus.  I hadn’t heard back from Baron Froom yet regarding the gateways he had claimed his apprentices were building. I didn’t doubt the man at all, yet I feared the efforts might not be quick enough. 

Between plateaus and warded totems, I hoped that would be enough of a delay. I also located several vineyards that I would ensure were raised on plateaus.  I doubted that whoever remained after the end of the age would forget how to make wine, but wanted to ensure that I always had access to a good vintage just in case.  I hoped the elevation didn’t ruin the stock.

While the mundanity of this work left me feeling as though I were only putting up a futile resistance to an inevitable outcome, I did it nonetheless.  It was on my return trip north that I stopped in Eiston to meet with the Duchess.  I planned to personally thank her for her gift of couches.  I had changed garments from my normal traveling attire to a courtlier robe, and my lower half was once again happy to be freed from the confines of pants.  

As I made my way through the city, those present bowed and stepped out of my way.  The murmurs on the street were loud as I passed, though the people sounded more excited than disturbed.  I hadn’t thought that my presence would have been as noticeable as it was, but I didn’t stop to question why as I made my way to her castle.  

The castle itself was smaller than one would think should be for a city of this size, and had seen better days.  The building was mostly built from hay-colored stone, though the two towers on the right side were of newer construction.  Long cracks were apparent along the foundation, though the cracks were too thin for anything beyond an insect to crawl inside.  

As I approached the entrance, the heavily-armored guards saluted and stood aside.  Their leader, a woman whose helmet had a long plume on top stepped forward and greet me. Her cloak rustled behind her with her movement.

“Good day to you, hero! 

The duchess was concerned her invitation wouldn’t reach you while you were away, but will be glad to know her guest of honor has arrived.”

I answered with a smile, though I didn’t give away my surprise.  Whatever invitation I hadn’t received was no doubt back at my tower awaiting me. 

I hoped it wasn’t to a ball.  My legs might feel free now that the pants were put away, but that didn’t mean that I enjoyed such formal wastes of time.

“I will escort you,” she said after my smile, before proceeding to turn about and march through the entrance. 

I followed at a stately pace behind her, though it was nice not to be rushed this time.  When we entered the courtyard, where archers and men-at-arms practiced, their trainer called them to a halt and ordered a salute. 

I responded with a nod, though I was starting to fear what might await me.  

I was led inside, through the nacre pillars in the entrance, and down a different hallway than the one that led to the Duchess’s audience hall.  This hallway was to the right of the entrance, and I could see further hallways leading off to guest chambers.  Servants hurried up and down those chambers, cleaning with an air of urgency.  

The hallway ended into an open room that was as big as the courtyard. Several tall, round tables were placed along the edges, and the entire right side contained long tables with a feast laid atop.  Noblemen and women of various ages and attributes mingled and ate.  Their words echoed off the ceiling in a way that made the room feel as loud as a river.  

I couldn’t help but give a resigned sigh as I saw the center and back of the room. The back of the room held a stage with musicians playing music that could only barely be heard over the chatter. The center was cleared of tables and food but made up for it with dancers. I mentally cursed myself for not going to my tower first.  Of all the events the Duchess could be holding, why did it have to be a ball? I had thought my attire entirely presentable for court.  Had I known it was a ball, I wouldn’t have come at all.

Yet, as I looked about, I noticed several familiar faces.  Baron Llal was surrounded by three noblewomen as he told some story of adventure or battle.  Count Wilchrest, with Baroness Nix at his side, was standing with two other men and their wives, likely the other two counts in the Duchy.  Several noblemen and women of various ages surrounded Baron Froom and his wife as his wife talked.  His eyes met me from across the hall, a look that pleaded for me to assist his escape from where he stood.  I returned his gaze with a conspirator’s wink that promised I would try if the opportunity presented itself.

I considered turning about and getting a room at an inn to wait for this to pass, but before I could the guard beside me shouted, “Now presenting, Alderman Nemon Fargus, Wizard of Lark, Hero of the Battle of Four Couches, and guest of honor!”

I froze.  While I paid no mind to the name the soldiery had given to the battle, I loathed the idea that the nobility would follow suit.  No doubt my name would be written in history books now with that detail included.  Future scholars would read it and wonder ‘Why did this wizard fight four couches?  He must have been as mad as the king claimed!’  It certainly wouldn’t do me any justice.  By the dead sea gods, I fought against a fifth-tier mage with a holy artifact while defending an entire town against magic!  

The music died down. 

Many of those sitting stood, and then a round of clapping began.  Slow at first until soon all were putting their hands together in appreciation.  While the nobles here smiled and clapped, I could see the mirth on my former assistant, Baron Froom’s, face. No doubt he had something to do with the naming of the battle, and I would have my vengeance.  

Wizard tricks should never be taken to this level.  It was—It was barbaric!

Yet I smiled and nodded, as appropriate, waiting for my chance to make my way to the man and let him know my thoughts.  Before I could do so, another loud voice called out from a doorway toward the rear.  “Now presenting Duchess Eiston!”  The heads quickly turned, and the matronly woman walked out from the side door, followed by several handmaidens and guards.  Then, the clapping began anew.  I took that moment to head towards the tables holding the food.  If I was forced to attend a ball, I would sample every type of wine they had.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 11

“You came to my tower for entertainment?  You were not tasked with delivering a message? No one sent you to me?” I asked in disbelief. I ran my hand through my beard and the metal hanging from my robe’s sleeve chimed lightly.  I glanced at the servant and guard behind them, but their stony faces gave no hint of mirth. I looked to my left and right, but none of my council seemed any less bewildered than I felt.

The child scoffed before answering.  He had a thin body with a weak-looking hand that he raised to press against his chest as he spoke. “My uncle, the king, sent me on an important quest to see to the morale of the further baronies, but that is all.  I chose where I grace the citizens of Sena, as is my right and their privilege. And I chose to grant you this privilege in the hopes you could entertain me.”

“I see. I see.” I muttered, more to myself than to the brat. With a smile, I answered him, “Perhaps I can show you something you have never seen before, Prince.”

I turned to look at Alderman Kine, my former assistant, and smiled.  The man had aged gracefully, though his hair was still balding some. I noted the quickly hidden look of fear in his eyes, but ignored it to ask him a question.  Today was the day we were intending to raise the tower, and all the preparations the village needed should be complete.  Hopefully, my council would catch on to my act.

“Alderman Kine, are the villagers safe and secure?”

With only the briefest pause after my question, Kine answered with a small bow, “They are ready, Master Fargus.”

“Good,” I nodded and turned the opposite direction to face Loralie, looking down at where her illusionary eyes would be.  I winked at her with the eye the prince couldn’t see from where he stood. “Witch Loralie, are there any demons or fiends that will plague us today?”

The illusion of Loralie didn’t respond right away, and a blush crept across her face.  It was then, that I noted I was staring at her bosom, but I didn’t give away a hint of the thought.  The illusionary crone closed her eyes and then hummed.  The aged voice of an older woman whispered from its lips. “Not today, Master Wizard.”

It was a useless question. 

Of course, there weren’t any that would attack today.  I hadn’t heard of such a thing occurring beyond children’s tales.  Though, I was happy she caught on quickly enough and I graced her with a small smile of gratitude as I turned back around to the last member of my council.  Shaelra, the nun was only a little surprised when all the eyes in the room turned in her direction.  

“Shaelra, can we say a prayer before we begin?” I asked with a genuine smile.

While she was a little taken aback, she quickly let her role take over.  “Certainly, my lord,” she answered with a bow. Then she clasped her hands and turned her face to the ceiling. With closed eyes, she began, “Elora, goddess of love and light, we seek your guiding grace to watch over us this day.  We ask that you support Lord Fargus’s efforts as he has done so much for the children here. He has given families to those who had none, reunited those who were thought lost, and is a beacon of hope in trying times. “

I closed my own eyes as I pretended to pray as well.  Instead, I was reaching out with my mind to the elementals around the tower.  My owls were orders to fly in a circle.  My fire elementals on pillars were ordered to spout gouts of flame into the sky.  The mist elementals were ordered to fly low around the bridge.  My enormous fifth-tier octopus was ordered to squirmed and writhe in a menacing manner.

When she finished, I turned back to the Prince.  I called forth an illusionary staff that looked as if it were made of sunlight to my hand, “Now that we are prepared, please follow me.”  

Without waiting for his response, I walked around the table and towards the door to my tower.  My seneschal was quick to open it for me, and I stepped forth onto the bridge to see five more royal guards as they warily looked about. 

I say their hands clenched tight on sword hilts and spear handles, though none had drawn a blade yet.  

“Good Morning, please lead the way!” I called to them and gestured towards the gate.  Behind me, I heard the Prince whispering to either his servant or his guard, but I paid it no mind.  Instead, I continued forward to the gates, as my own guards were quick to open it for us.  My robe chimed with each step, and my nature elementals chose that moment to begin playing the instruments they practiced with.  Their instruments played a soulful marching tune that was in time with my steps.

Beyond, I saw even more royal guards.  The Prince’s forces were likely a hundred soldiers with a handful of mages and priests. 

I graced them with a grand smile and walked forward with my head held high.   “If you all would follow me this way,” I said loud and clearly as I walked further away from my tower and the village beside it.

Many of the men and women muttered, but follow me they did, until we were more than half a mile down the road from my tower.  I stopped when I found a stray stick, something the size of a staff, and stood above it before I turned about.

“Prince!  If you would, please tell your guards to be at ease,” I called to him, though he was only a dozen or so steps behind me.  The words, though, were clear enough for all to hear. 

I began using [Earth Manipulation] to raise the ground around us.  At the same time, I struck down on the ground with the illusionary staff I held, not that it was required.  The ground for nearly forty paces in a circle around me, enough to support the Prince and all his guards, began to rise and stopped once it had reached three times the height of a man.  

Once it had stopped, I turned and looked at the Prince with a tilt of my head, yet all the child did was scoff.

“You think I have never seen Geomancy before, wizard? Is this all you can show me?” His voice broke as he spoke.

I laughed, “Prince, this wasn’t the demonstration.  This is to allow you the proper view for the demonstration.”  Then, I cast the spell to begin raising the village, tower, and my reflection pond, as well as several miles of swampland around it.   The ground rumbled.  The walls of stone rose to encircle it so that mud and earth didn’t slide off.  Then the land began to rise.  First the height of a man.  Then two men. 

Then it kept growing, the raised land becoming a cliffside.

While the others were around me, I reached down and grasped the stick I stood over.  The raising plateau would take maybe half an hour to complete, and was more than enough time to enchant the stick.  A small enchantment, one that would only last a year or two, but a solid one nonetheless.  When tapped on the ground with the word ‘light’ spoken it would light up like the illusionary staff I held.  If done again with the word ‘dark’ spoken, the light would fade.  

A simple enough enchantment on a random stick, but one that would serve my purposes.  As much as I disliked the Prince’s arrogance, he was still royalty. 

I wouldn’t have anyone say that I was visited by royalty and didn’t offer a suitable gift.

The plateau wasn’t one entire level as it rose.  Most of it was.  But once the largest part stopped rising, more continued.  My tower and reflection lake raised another twenty or thirty feet above the village, and then my tower continued for another twenty feet beyond that. 

When it was finally done, the Prince turned to me with wide eyes.

Before he could speak, I spoke to him, offering the staff with a demonstration of use, “A gift for you young prince, to help illuminate your path.”

The Prince seemed still stunned by witnessing the raising of the plateau and grasped the staff almost without thought.  After gaping a bit, he asked, “How will we return to the tower?”

I stroked my beard, as if pretending to think the matter over.  Then I answered, “I am unsure how you would, Prince, but I will be flying there.”  When the Prince’s expression gave over to confusion, I demonstrated by flying away.  Of course, I didn’t fly straight there, rather a more circuitous route that ensured no one was beneath me.  I didn’t think I would be flying so soon today and hadn’t worn pants.  

Behind me, I could hear the Prince shout.  His voice echoing from the raised viewing platform I had made, “How will I get down from here?!”

Upon hearing those words, I smiled to myself and kept flying.  I had much left to do if I were to leave tomorrow, and a battle between mushroom men had been added to my tasks.

Arc 3 interlude options

I will only be doing three interludes this arc, but you all get to choose!