Allanther

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 9

After spending most of the day dealing with the mundane tasks needed for me to manage the tower, from speaking with Lilly to accidentally killing a man, I was ready to return to my research.  However, I also knew myself well enough to know that if I did so, then I wouldn’t take on the handful of remaining tasks.  

It had been a long day for me, though, so I called for several of the new runners my seneschal hired to arrange for a meeting with Alderman Kine over dinner on the rooftop of my tower. 

I had missed watching the sunset and looked forward to a good meal, a good discussion, and a glass of wine while I watched.  

I spent the hour or so I had to wait for the meal to come together considering different gifts I could give to the Count and his wife.  Honestly, I knew little about the couple or their desires.  I was aware of the Baroness’s ambition to reclaim her estate, and Count Wilchrest seemed to have more than achieved his own goals with his new title.  I knew nothing of their hobbies or personal interests.  Yet Baron Froom did.  No doubt his wedding gift to the couple would demonstrate how much better the relationship between them.

Nor could I call on the third adventurer of the trio, Baron Llal, for advice.  Not only did I not know his current whereabouts, asking would be obvious to my former assistant Froom.  It created quite the conundrum.  I couldn’t gift an enchanted item, because Alred was also a better enchanter—for the moment. 

A gift of gold or riches would be worse.  The baroness had gone out of her way to spend her riches to obtain gems to gift to me to fight against the coming Pestilence.  Giving her coins or gems would be considered an insult at best.  

I couldn’t help by to sigh. 

Matters of love and politics were not my specialty, and any involvement usually taxed me more than I cared for.  I created and discarded many ideas over the hour until Kine arrived.   When he did, he was led up by my seneschal and followed by my new cook.  The cook came bearing a large platter that held steaming food.  The eel had been quartered and roasted over the fire. 

With it came cuts of baked squash and apples.  

It mixed well with the plum wine that was served, and I could only nod my thanks at the man.  Truthfully, I would have been more vocal about the great meal if I could remember his name, but that would come with time.  

Kine and I ate slowly, though from his expression he had more to discuss than I had to discuss with him. 

“Master,” he began between bites. “You are working Philipe too hard.  The duties you require have only expanded since I served you, and I could barely do them alone.  He is too scared you will dismiss him to speak to you of it.”

I nodded.  It was something I knew and expected.  I hadn’t had the opportunity to seek out additional assistants but had planned for it.  I had hoped one of the new additions to Loralie’s tower would work, but none had the appropriate training.  I was certain that one or two of the mages in the nearby Woodhoot would be willing to take employment as well, though I would wait to hear from Rhaela, first.

“I am aware.  Do you have recommendations?”  I asked, though I didn’t look at him when I did.  The sun was beginning to set, and I had a reflection lake for a reason.

“No, but I shall inquire,” he sounded disappointed, but quickly changed the subject.  “Is there something you wish to discuss with me?”

I nodded my head slowly, “There is, but I would hear your concerns first.”  Not that I would answer them, but letting the man air any grievances he might hold should make him more open to taking on the tasks I would soon be giving him.

Kine took a large breath before he began.  His speech had started slowly and methodically, but the words flowed faster and faster as he went on.  “The villagers are concerned.  The village I had planned is growing too fast.  There is little enough food, and more and more people arrive every day.  Homes aren’t being built fast enough.  It’s nearly the size of a town, now, and I don’t know that I can keep up.  I spent the last three weeks just making basic homes from mud so that people would have a roof over their heads. I barely have time to eat or sleep, let alone study my craft.”

Even though I didn’t respond immediately, that didn’t mean I wasn’t carefully considering his words. 

There were little clues in it that told me all was not as it seemed.  He said the villagers were concerned, not he was concerned.  That he can’t keep building homes, not that the village can’t. 

I spared a glance from the sunset to see his exasperated expression, and then returned my gaze to the waters below.

“Hmmm.”

With a miserable tone, he spoke again.  More a mutter to himself than words to me, but my ears caught it nonetheless.  “I wish I could give it all up and go back to just being an assistant.”

I didn’t respond to that at all.  If that was truly his wish and not just a sign of his mood, he would have made the request clearly.   Instead, I waited for several long moments so that the silence stretched between us, before I began offering my guidance.  “How do you see yourself fixing that?”

“I—well, I hadn’t the time to even think that far along, master.”  He said it honestly, but I could also tell he was thinking it over now.

“Hmmm,” I offered and waited.  

Kine started again, this time speaking more to himself than to me, “If I asked—no.  If he’d just complain.  If I asked the miners, they could help with the foundations.  The loggers would probably start helping on their own even if Tilburet argued against it.  I could also set her on him if he was.”

The way he said her left no doubt in my mind he was speaking of the nosy old crone I had met before.  The word came out of his mouth as if he were cursing.  I couldn’t help but frown as I listened.  She wasn’t welcome in my tower, but that didn’t mean I had forgotten about the woman.   Yet, I didn’t speak and continued to listen as he spent most of the sunset planning his work.   

When he was done, he offered a bow, “Thank you, master.”

I snorted and waved a hand to dismiss it.  I had already ruled out one of the tasks I was going to assign him.  I needed to source more quartz, but I’d give that duty to an adventuring party or merchants.  Perhaps both would see it done quicker.  Instead, I moved on to the only thing I truly needed to speak with him about.

“Kine, I plan to raise the tower and village up soon, onto a plateau with cliffs around it,” I began, hoping to get him to see it in his mind so that he could prepare the village and supplies needed to live apart from the rest of the country.

Yet, instead of seeing the tasks needed he tilted his head back and exclaimed, “Oh, thank Elora! 

That’ll stop the refugees.  I should have come to you a week ago!”

I tapped my finger on the side of my wineglass as I watched my former apprentice jump up and dance in excitement.  I pursed my lips.   Then I held the rest of my words back.  If he truly saw my raising the plateau as a reward, then he would approach the tasks needed to prepare for it with excitement.  I didn’t want to rob him of that.  

Instead, we parted ways shortly after that, and I took a bottle of wine with me into the bath.  It had been a long time since I had soaked in the hot waters, and after the events of today, I needed to relax.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 8

On the bottom laboratory in Loralie’s tower, past a rather friendly [Shaman] named Nictus who was dancing to imbue a mask with the ability to poison anyone or anything that looked upon it, past the Pyl’s laboratory where two [Witches] and a [Necromancer] were attempting create a mirror to speak with the spirits of the dead, and past a shy [Blood Diviner] named Corianne who spent her morning peering into a pool of sheep’s blood to try to see the coming horde of hydra, was an [Cultist].

The man in question looked nothing more than an average farmer, if more flab than muscle.  Grey eyes and brown hair dominated an otherwise plain face.  He wore only plain clothes and an apron one might see on any barkeep.  What separated him from any other person in my eyes was the peasant girl he had tied to the center of a summoning circle and the horrid chanting that was his spellcraft.  

“Excuse me Larn, I wanted to introduce you to Wizard Fargus,” Fintak the Illusionist called into the room. 

He had once again donned the illusion of a muscle-bound warrior, not that it made a difference to me.

The [Cultist], Larn apparently, impudently held up one finger as he continued to chant even louder. 

The girl sitting in the center of a runic circle began screaming and struggling fearfully as dark mana began to flow around the spellwork and into the lines on the floor.  

As his chanting grew to a screaming crescendo, the lines began to glow an ugly dark red color and the heat came off in waves.  The girl’s eyes rolled into her head as she fainted, and along the ceiling a portal to some hell opened.  A red infant with horns and wings flew from the portal straight towards the girl, only to find itself trapped behind a barrier of magic as the portal behind it closed.  

“Finally!” Larn cried in triumph, his voice hoarse.  He turned to look at the two of us as the flying baby beat itself against the barrier like a fly against glass.

“Hmm,” I said as I walked past him and into the room.  The runic circle was poorly made, the heat it gave off a sign of incorrect geometry. 

The girl, bait for a demon, was unnecessary as most demons saw other worlds as an escape.  The demon, only a first-tier summon, was too weak to be of any use to anyone.  Its strength was likely less than that of the monsterized wolves I had once bred.  Even the chant, designed to smooth the flow of mana into the circle was spoken with the tonelessness of a deaf bard.  All in all, I wasn’t impressed.

I lifted my finger to point at the demonic baby thing and cast.  A small bolt of lightning jumped from me to it, leaving it shaking and dead on the floor. 

“Mister Larn, I presume?” I called out without turning.   

Instead, I was attempting to ascertain which hell this demon came from.  Lorn appeared Senan, so I had discounted the Mirktallean god.  Tervan didn’t have a hell, as their god took the unworthy to serve as a wing or scale.  Elora didn’t have a hell.  Those who passed on to her requirements lived in her light and love, but those who didn’t were cast out into the darkness.  Bi’s hell was only for cowards, where they would be forever trampled beneath a stampede of bulls.  That left one god, but his hell was one of starvation.  Perhaps it was one of the gods of antiquity?

“Who—what—that took me a week to prepare!” the man’s shriek rudely interrupted my thoughts.

“You spent a week to prepare this?” I scoffed. Yet, when I turned back to look if the man was serious, he had already drawn a knife and charged me.  I hardly had the time to raise my eyebrows in surprise before my defensive wards counterattacked with a thick bolt of lightning that left his body sizzling on the floor, much the same was the demon.  

“Well.” I paused and smacked my lips.  Times like these often required the best choice of words so the people around you didn’t get the wrong impression, “That’s unfortunate.”

I gave Fintak a few moments to pull himself together as I looked about for the tome Larn must have relied upon.  I wasn’t certain if his mistakes were because of personal failings or failings of instruction, and I certainly didn’t want any literature around my tower that would misteach such basic requirements.

I found it inside the drawer of a small table tucked behind the door.  The tome was bound with dried human fingers, all woven together with hair. 

The pages were written with smeared human blood, and mostly described the requirements to obtain the [Cultist] class. 

Ridiculous requirements, such as eating the eye of a living baby goat on the winter solstice or sleeping with another man’s wife while the cuckolder watched and chanted a particular song, were just a few of the possible requirements.  

It seemed a collection of folktales more than any type of instruction manual and culminated in bargaining with a demon summoned through a gate.  That culmination was the ritual the man had just performed, which could explain his outrage even if it didn’t explain how he expected to bargain with a flying red babe.     The drawer contained a few other miscellaneous items, from a gutting knife to a roll of fishing string, but nothing of magical value.  

With a sigh, I used my fire manipulation to burn away the tome in my hand.  I was disappointed, to say the least.  I had hopes of a collection of experts in their fields, and instead, it felt like I was gathering misfits who barely grasped the basics of their crafts.  

Fintak had pulled himself together in the time I had spent searching the room.  The color had returned to his face, and only the dampness of his sweat-soaked hair gave away that he had been surprised, to begin with. “Mister Fintak, you may inquire with the guards to help with the disposal of Mister Lorn.  I don’t suppose he traveled with any kin?”

The illusionist shook his head quickly, “No, Master Nemon, not that I—”

“You saved me!  I thought I were dun fer!” the girl squealed in joy and happiness from where she had awoken on the floor.  I glanced her way to ensure she wouldn’t run to give me a hug and suffer the same fate as her captor.  Maybe fourteen tears old, with dirty, flaky skin and a few missing teeth, she wasn’t the epitome of feminine beauty.  Her bindings still held, so I had little to fear from her dying in a similarly unfortunate manner.

Yet, her appearance wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the words she had spoken. So, I answered her quickly, before I had to deal with another instance of being mistaken for a hero, and pointed at the illusionist, “Young lady, you have Mister Fintak there to thank your rescue.”   

A quick casting of a spell freed her, and before I could say more, she sprinted from the floor to give Fintak a hug. I used that particular moment to depart.  I had other obligations I needed to see to rather than be bogged down with gratitude or other such nonsense.  As I made my way up the stairs to leave the tower, I paused once—just for a moment—outside the doorway to Pyl’s laboratory.  Loralie was in the room with him and the other witch working on their mirror.  

As much as I wanted to look into her luminescent eyes, I didn’t want to interrupt their work.  Nor was I truly of the right state of mind for a game of words.  I was afraid my annoyance at the ritualist would taint the interaction.  Instead, I forced myself to continue and try to make use of the rest of the day.     

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 7

As the guard opened the shining bronze gate for me as I headed outside. A late summer breeze brought with it a dry heat, though I could see the grey bottoms of distant storm clouds that might mean rain later.   There weren’t many changes to the field in front of my tower.  The markings of tents and temporary living space that refugees had used were still in place.  It was much busier than I would have liked, with workers and soldiers moving about.

In the swamplands nearby my fifth-tier earth elemental, shaped like a giant octopus, waited patiently for new orders.  The shadow of its head and tentacles lay about unmoving.  For whatever reason, any of the folks who passed it by would place a hand on it as if they would be granted luck from the gesture.

I also frowned as I saw a single merchant waiting outside, his tall yellow wagon opened to show overpriced wares.

“Lord Fargus!” Honest Brom, the small man called.  His enormous fake smile flashed.  Honest Brom was an information broker in service to Baroness Nix, a mischievous-looking man with bowl-cut black hair and a clean-shaven face.

I forced a smile in his direction to return his greeting before I turned left.  Loralie’s tower was in this direction, and I didn’t feel any desire to interact with him at the moment.  That, of course, didn’t stop him from leaping forward to walk beside me.

“My lord, word has spread quickly of your amazing victory in Gold Castle,” he began.  His head bobbed up and down as he spoke.  Both his words and demeanor were designed in an attempt to ingratiate himself to me.  “They say that Duchess Eiston holds a grand reward for you.”

I glanced to my side to see his eye alit with unspoken greed, no doubt picturing vast sums of coin or gems.

“Hmm,” I answered.

“I, myself, have been tasked by my lady to head north.  Through the lands of Mirktal and into Furing to warn of the Pestilence.  My cousin, Brom, will be holding my trade route while I am gone,” he turned and gestured back to his wagon.

I stopped in my walk and looked back to see another man that looked identical to Honest Brom.

Maybe a hair taller, though I couldn’t be sure without getting a closer look. He waved as he stood from one of the steps on his wagon, and I nodded in return. “I see.  I wish you luck on your journey.”

“Oh, aye, it will be a perilous journey for a man such as myself.  A harrowing adventure to escape the eyes of slavers and the grasp of matrons.

I can only hope that—”

I sighed as he kept talking, and turned back to walk towards Loralie’s tower.  The man stepped to walk beside me, still chattering away like a squirrel, but I paid him no mind.  The walls on the outside of my tower, a light blue marble that now matched the interior walls and walkways made me smile.  The stone was of a much higher quality than the home I had in Sena City, and parts of it glimmered in the sun.

The doorway to Loralie’s tower approached, one that matched that of my own door, and I stopped just outside of it.  Behind me, Honest Brom stopped walking as well and wrung his hands nervously.

“The necromancer lives here, don’t he?  And the witches?  And that demon-worshipper?”

I had nodded along to answer his questions until the last one. At that, I furrowed my brows in thought, “Demon-worshipper?” I didn’t recall anyone of that class.  I tried to keep my distance from any gods or goddesses, as my heritage placed me at risk.  According to the histories, the high elves had brought godly vengeance upon themselves and were cursed to be goblins, something I wanted no part of for myself.  Summoning something from the heavens or hells might attract holy attention that I wasn’t comfortable with.

Of the occupants I knew. There were Loralie and Grena, two witches. Pyl, the necromancer.  Fintak, the illusionist, though I was still unsure of his skill level.  Bimly the totem-maker.  While I didn’t believe any of them worshipped any demons.  Maybe it was one of the new additions I had yet to meet?  I stroked my beard and then waved the man away, not even bothering with a farewell.

I waited until he finished bowing and was well out of my sight before I knocked on the door.  The tower was part of my own, so I could have simply entered, but politeness was worth a moment or two’s wait.  The brass door squeaked open, the sound of metal on metal a little jarring, to reveal Bimly the totem-maker.

Bimly smiled and waved me inside with his scarred hands.  The smile seemed authentic, as it rose to his brown eyes, as he spoke, “Master Nemon, please come in!  I have just made tremendous progress on your tasking, and am surprised the runner made it to you so quickly.”

I shook my head, and answered with a smile of my own, “I have seen no runner today.  Perhaps they will arrive later. You have made progress?”

“Indeed!  I have been working together with Fintak, and we have something that might interest you.” He turned and excitedly started down the stairwell to our right.  The first floor, a poor imitation of the first floor of my tower, hadn’t changed much and I only gave it a cursory glance before following.  When a mage was this excited, it was usually something interesting.

The rooms under the tower held the laboratories for the different magic-users in residence.  I understood that some rooms were shared and others had their own.  The room that Bimly led me to was filled with various crafts.  On the left, uncut logs the height of two men were stacked.

Behind in, a crate filled with moonstones sat with the top open.  Those stones I had placed under Fintak’s care so that he could enchant them to hold the illusion of a rabbit that would entice the Hydra into attacking one another.

In the center, a raised stone bed with a long divot held a well-carved totem.   The totem was cut in the shape of multiple serpents, all in various degrees of injure with the top carved into a snake’s head.  The mouth was open and Fintak was busy concentrating on placing an enchanted moonstone into it.   Fintak was a short man with a round body, though he normally wore the illusion of a handsome, muscular warrior.  Now, though, he had dropped the illusion was seemed to be applying his full concentration to merging the enchanted moonstone with the totem.

Both Bimly and I stood to the side and watched in silence until he was done.

“Bimly!  We did it!  It appraises as—good morning Master Nemon.” Fintak had begun with an excited shout but quickly changed his tone to a more formal and reserved manner that he followed with a short bow.

I snorted at his gesture, dismissing the formality entirely, as I approached the totem with interest.

With mana sight, I saw the magic imbued into the wood in a way that would project pain to any serpent for several miles, and along that border the illusionary rabbit with run and jump.

It seemed an excellent trap.  Any hydra that attacked the rabbit would feel attacked in turn.  That would work excellently if there were another hydra nearby actually attacking it.

It should send them into a great frenzy until only one was left.

I nodded in satisfaction and glanced to the right of the room.  There, several similar totems were leaning against the wall, though half appeared splintered and broken.

I turned back to the two nervous mages and smiled. “Excellent work!  We will need as many of these as you can make.  Is there a way to increase the range of the spell?”

Bimly and Fintak shared a glance before Bimly grimaced.  A note of apology was in his voice as he answered, “I may be able to in the next, but at present, this is all I can manage.  The illusions can go further.”

“No matter.  This is still excellent work,” I said and clapped them both on the shoulder.  “If you need more lumber, inform my seneschal and he will see to your needs.  Now, I go to greet the new additions to the tower.

Who is able to provide introductions?”

Bimly moved away towards the newly completed totem as he spoke.  “Fintak fought with them at Gold Castle. He would be better for that.  I’ll begin work on the next totem.”

“This way, Master Fargus,” Fintak said as he began leading out of the laboratory and further down the tower.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 6

After meeting with Lilly, I decided to continue the interrupted survey of my tower and its surroundings. With my seneschal, Fentworth Aide, in tow, I left the tower to first inspect the moat. While the rooms inside the tower were circular, the outside was marked by four distinct corners. Around the tower was a walkway wide enough for one person to walk. My moat lay beyond this walkway with another one on the far end that was encircled by a wall. 

It was along the inner walkway that I traveled first; my mind divided along several different lines of thought. Disappointment in Lilly’s desire to become a queen the foremost among them. Where had I gone wrong? She was such a promising apprentice that had excellent potential as a mage. Was it assigning her to survey my dungeon? I frowned at the thought. Certainly, having a tribe of rodent-sized mushroom men worship her might have a strong impact on her ego. 

It was not a far walk to make it to the still-smoldering remains of my nature elemental. Dead, dry leaves crunched beneath our feet. A small breeze blew around the tower, one that carried a feeling of coolness from the top of the waters but did nothing for the smell of burnt leaves and vine. The entire side of my tower was covered in soot and ash, and the moat held blackened and burnt debris. 

The waters, normally clear, now looked murky and thick. They wouldn’t be for long, as the water elementals inside were tasked with keeping it clear, but that fact didn’t give me any measure of joy to see my once pristine moat dirtied. Along some of the edges, I saw the mists created by my second-tier water elementals. Their shape was that of a predatory mouth, though their bodies were only mists that trailed behind it.  Green sparkles of nature elemental wisps twinkled inside those mists, as both fought against the late-morning sun.

Fentworth hadn’t spoken yet during the walk, but after I cast a cleaning spell on the side of my tower, he began to give me a report.

“My lord, in preparation for today, I have tallied several items for your attention,” he carried himself with a calm dignity that I appreciated.

“Go on,” I said, as I stroked my beard and looked out into the waters of the moat. The moat itself had several pillars jutting out of it at equal distance from each other.  Each supported a first-tier fire elemental atop, the tiny flames shaped into that of a mouse that scurried about. Between and around the pillars floated large lily pads, large enough to hold a person, though they were topped with a lesser kind of nature elemental called an Aldruane. I couldn’t see them now, though as they sheltered inside of their closed flowers.

“You have several men that have reported to the tower requesting to be assigned to your guard. One of which, a man named Michael, claims that you had granted him such a position if he confirmed himself with a Paladin Adam. With him are twenty more men and women he calls his ‘Trusted Twenty’, and claims they have all been confirmed by the Paladin.”

I nodded and stroked my beard. More guards? I didn’t see any problems with the addition. Certainly, it wouldn’t harm my accounts. “Yes, that is acceptable. Have them report to Eni.”

“My lord, and the others?” Fentworth asked.

“There are others?” I turned to look at him but stopped when something caught my eye. An eel swimming up to the surface to nibble at a piece of burnt leaf. In the waters of my moat, I had transplanted fish and eel, both known for their beauty. Yet, as I looked at one of the eels now, I couldn’t help but wonder what it tasted like. 

“Yes, sir, nearly two hundred.”

His answer pulled me from my musings on grilled eel, but I wasn’t necessarily surprised. Of the soldiers who fought at Gold Castle, many were without station or rank. Former bandits, adventurers, mercenaries, and conscripted peasantry had all fought in the defense of the town. Those not already employed would no doubt look for hire. 

“I will employ no more than fifty in total. Ensure that their armors, weapons, and uniforms are ordered soon. I prefer not to have any guards dressed as bandits. The others can inquire with Alderman Kine or Baroness Lark.” I answered, though the number I chose was mostly arbitrary. 

“Yes, my lord. Concerning the guards, there are two other items of note. Guardsman Eni indicates that the guard tower is insufficient to house any more guards, and requests to build another tower on the other side of the gate such that together they would be a gatehouse.”

I looked towards the guard tower as I considered it. The wall that circled my moat already had a number of towers attached to the wall around it. One for the unusual magic-user classes. One filled with dwarven potters, granted to the widow of a dead friend. One was built for Alderman Kine, so that he had an administrative area to oversee the village around the tower. Having one tower beside the gate was not truly an appealing sight. Adding a matching tower to the other side of my gate would do much for the entryway. 

“Granted.” Yet, I continued to think about the symmetry of the smaller towers around my own. If two guard towers would stand the front gate, that left three others. Following the circular wall, the next two towers on either side were the dwarven tower and Loralie’s tower. Following the wall behind the dwarven tower was Kine’s, the one closest to the village. It left a walled gap that didn’t appeal to my sensibilities at all. My tower also had less than ideal defenses against priestly magics, something I needed to rectify.

“When he finishes with the second guard tower, have him work on constructing a sixth tower for the Sisters of Elora. They can use it as an orphanage or a temple. Now, there was another matter with the guards?”

“Yes, my lord,” Fentworth answered, though his normally stern expression took on a look as if he were uncomfortable with the topic. I waited patiently while looking about to see if I could spot an eel that looked more appetizing than the others. “The residents of the village and towers have been airing a grievance regarding fleas, sir.”

“Fleas?” I tilted my head. I hadn’t seen any in my tower, but I had wards against them.

“Sir, the fertility spell created an abundance of fleas.”

Well, that concern was easy enough to resolve. I cast a second-tier curse on one of my fish that would attract all fleas for miles. If they didn’t drown in the waters, it would provide plenty of food for the young eels and fish. I cast another curse for ticks on a different fish, and a third for lice, to be certain. While my seneschal hadn’t mentioned them, I imagined that if the fleas were troublesome, then the other pests would be as well. 

“The fleas should be gone within a day or two. Do you see that eel, there?” I pointed to a rather long specimen. It floated near the surface eyeing a piece of burnt ivy. With a predatory snap, sharp teeth opened and swallowed the leaf whole. In the span of a couple of heartbeats, it was gone beneath the waters.

“Sir?”

“I would like that eel served for dinner tonight. Grilled, preferably,” I could imagine the taste now. Eel with rice or noodles, some grilled vegetables, all in gravy or spicy sauce—it would be wonderful. 

“I will see it done,” Fentworth answered perfunctorily. 

We began walking back along the walkway towards the bridge. I felt no need to truly survey any of the towers, yet I was curious as to the new addition to my mages' tower. Magic from far-flung areas or strange classes often performed in unexpected and interesting ways, and any new additions might unknowingly hold the key to victory against the Pestilence. 

We were halfway across the single bridge over my moat when he spoke again, “You also have many petitioners beyond those seeking employ as guards. When would you like to see to them?”

“Oh? How great a number?” I asked, offhandedly. 

“Nearly four hundred in total, sir. Most camp at Woodhoot awaiting summons.”

I stopped and looked back at the man in surprise. I had thought that the quests and tasks assigned to the various parts of the army would have been sufficient to avoid such a debacle. I could only close my eyes and sigh. 

“I don’t suppose they all have the same request?” I asked. 

For the first time since I met my seneschal, the man offered a wry grin in response. 

“Very well,” I waved my hand dismissively. “Inform Rhaela the Red I have assigned her to sort them by priority. Those without true reason should be dispersed.” 

Rhaela had requested the station of spymaster for my village and tower, a position that I didn’t believe was necessary. Assigning her to this task would have her believe I suspected spies among these petitioners, and hopefully, her eagerness to find them would resolve the matter in a swifter fashion.

“I will see it done, sir. Those remaining?”

“I’ll hear her report first,” I answered. Then, after a brief moment’s reflection, I dismissed him, “I will be surveying the new magic-users that have joined Loralie’s tower.” 

“The Conclave Tower?” The man asked.

“Hmm,” I stroked my beard. “Is that what they are calling it?” The missives requesting admission made more sense to me now, if that was the case. Yet, I couldn’t help but snort in derision. As with so many human things, it was a stupid name. 

“Yes, my lord,” he answered with a small bow.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 5

While I paced the rooftop, I opened and closed the scroll several times in disbelief. I turned it to see if there was something on the other side. I checked the seal to ensure that it wasn’t a trick from another wizard. I read through the king’s summons thrice to ensure I wasn’t going mad. After all of that, I called for my seneschal, Fentworth Aide, to confirm that it was truly a royal messenger who delivered the message. 

That a full moon rose tonight, which only added to my concerns. Lunar mana was closely tied to illusion magic, a fact that didn’t make me feel any better. I sent Fentworth away to request Loralie to meet with me as I paced back and forth on the top of my tower. King Sena was not a man I respected. He already owed me a debt for not heeding my warning of the Pestilence. Another for drawing me into a war. A third for whatever his part was in distributing Asrid Flower tea. Each on their own was a reason for dislike. Walker’s death was another matter entirely.

I hadn’t taken my revenge against him yet, not for fear of retribution, but because I didn’t want to be the cause for turmoil across the kingdom when the Pestilence arrived. I had enough things to feel guilty for in my past without adding the weight of however many deaths would result. Yet, I knew this summons for what it was. There was nothing I could say or do to prove I hadn’t joined hands with the Seafolk. No doubt, wherever that claim came from had also manufactured evidence as well. Likely the work of the Laxton household. 

No, answering the summons was nothing but a trap. I had opened the scroll in such a way I could feign it lost for a time, but that would only work for so long. I had hoped to support and be supported by the kingdom when the Pestilence arrives, to take my vengeance only once the threat passed. That hope faded now because I knew that regardless of how I responded to this summons, the King and I were adversaries. 

I stewed in my thoughts for several moments before Loralie arrived. When she did, she greeted me with a smile. The beautiful half-elven woman still wore her illusion of a crone about her, but I saw through it. A [witch] that had lived two hundred years longer than I, and undoubtedly had just as many secrets. Any other night than this, I might have gotten lost in her luminescent yellow eyes.

“Good evening, Wizard Fargus. I had hoped you would invite me to your tower for some time,” She began with a happy tone but her voice trailed away as she saw the look on my face.

I enjoyed the back-and-forth pleasantries we normally shared, but tonight I was in no mood for verbal games. 

“Is this about Lilly and the Elemental? I don’t know what it did, but I’m sure you did the right thing.” Loralie whispered in a comforting tone. I shook my head and glanced back to the stairwell into my tower. There, my seneschal stood prepared, but I waved him away. I wanted a private conversation at the moment. 

After he had departed, I handed the King’s message to Loralie and sat on one of the benches to wait while she read. Now that the moon had risen and I was no longer pacing in agitation, the owls within the roost that my guard Eni cared for began to shuffle and hoot. Even the large, owl-shaped gargoyles that sat on the four corners of my tower were more active, as if they could sense my agitation.

Loralie’s forehead creased as she read, and a small breeze fluttered her long hair in a way that captivated me. That someone could be so attractive and look so serious at the same time was a rarity I had seldom come across. She glanced back and forth from the message to me several times before she finished reading.

“This is unusual, Mister Fargus. Are you working with the Seafolk?” she asked. The look on her face as she asked held a bit of curiosity, but also held preparation for judgment. That she might know Seafolk was a bit of knowledge I tucked away to discuss on another day. 

I snorted, “No. I’ve never met a single one. This is a trap the king sets, a way to collect my head.”

“I—see,” Loralie said, though she sounded unsure of herself. “What do you ask of me, then?”

“This wretched excuse for a king slew someone dear to me,” I couldn’t keep the heat nor pain from my voice and didn’t try. “You hadn’t the chance to meet him, but Lilly’s brother was once an assistant of mine. My magic is strong but direct. When I—” I paused. “Before we met—” I paused again.

Before we met, I had investigated the insides of her abode, a ramshackle wooden hut in the middle of the woods. It was rather rude of me, and I worried that reminding her of that action before I ask a request of her may not work as well as I hoped. I pursed my lips and then tried again, “In your grimoire, there is a curse, an ensorcellment named ‘Unending Agony’. No doubt the king is guarded and warded from much of my spellcraft, but yours? I suspect not.”

“Nemon, that spell requires the sacrifice of three newborn babes,” Loralie started, while shaking her head.

Yet I interjected before she could decline. I had no intention of sacrificing infants. That type of ritual was simply clumsy. “Yes, Yes, but that’s only to provide a source of magic for the spellwork. I believe I have something that we could use in its stead.”

“Oh?” she asked, and I could tell from the sparkle in her eye that I had her interest in the matter. 

I grinned as I stood, “Yes, perhaps it's time that you see one of my secrets. Something in exchange for your help in cursing a king. Have you heard of a Tower Crystal before?”

The next morning, after breakfast, I met with Lilly in my study. She was already sitting on one of the couches and reading through the literature I had pulled from the shelf yesterday with wide, concerned eyes. Beside her, in a woven basket lined with leather, a muddy pup wagged its tail. The young lady already looked healthier, with a better complexion and her eyes were no longer as sunken in as before. That she had dressed in a gown and brushed her hair made the difference even more noticeable. 

So entranced by what she was reading, it took her a few moments to notice that I had sat down across from her. I was a little tired from the several hours I had spent speaking with Loralie on how to adjust the Curse of Unending Agony, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make time to discuss with Lilly the actions I had taken and why.

“Good morning, Master. You set this out for me to read, didn’t you?” Lilly asked.

I nodded in answer. I didn’t grace her with a smile, but I wanted to. The young woman could be very astute when she needed to be. 

“Then, if it had stayed in my arm, would I turn into a plant?” 

“If it didn’t kill you first, which is much more likely,” I answered while meeting her gaze.

“I see. And you killed Miss Ivy because she did this to me?” Lilly’s question came, but softer this time. 

I saw a flash of some emotion in her eyes as she asked, but it wasn’t the rage I had seen from yesterday. “ ’Miss Ivy’ was a nature elemental, child, don’t be fooled. Elementals aren’t human and don’t think the same as we do. They are tools, and nothing more. You may not believe me now, but in the time your familiar takes to grow, you will see it true. It was given orders to safeguard anyone in this tower, and it didn’t. That is why it's dead.”

“Isn’t she worth more than me, though? She was powerful elemental and I—I’m just a useless girl.” Lilly blinked away tears and turned away as she spoke.

I was a bit taken aback. At first, I was uncertain if this were an act. I had assigned her to study under another magic-user, one who focused on charm magic. If she also learned how to manipulate others without magic, it wouldn’t be too unusual. After I waited for a moment, though, I saw a shake in her shoulders and the tremble in her hand. I couldn’t imagine she would have learned so well in such a short amount of time.

“Young lady, I don’t want to hear such a thing again. An elemental cannot compare to a person. Today or tomorrow, I will summon another. You? There is no way to replace you.”

My words seemed to calm her, though she didn’t look pleased with the idea of summoning another elemental. Yet she didn’t ask me not to, either. I would have taken such a request into consideration for a time, at least until she grew out of her attachment to the plant.

“Master, what should I do with the puppy? I can’t make it a familiar too, can I?” she asked and glanced at the muddy basket. 

I noticed the change in the subject but didn’t return to it. We would speak more later if she needed it. “I wouldn’t suggest it. The plant is likely to take it over within a decade or two. If anything, I would suggest the Animal Bond spell. It’s enough to complete a bond, but not strong enough to physically harm you. You can always move your familiar to a new animal when it outgrows the wolf.” 

Lilly nodded despondently while looking at the puppy, which wagged its tail in happiness over the attention. “Master, I…” Lilly began and then took a deep breath. “Master, I don’t want to return to the Arcanum to study.”

That surprised me, but given the current politics, it did make me glad for her decision. “That’s acceptable. There is more than enough knowledge here to continue your education. I can put together a new curriculum for you. Many famous mages in the past never attended an academy.”

Lilly was silent after I answered, her gaze still on the pup. After a few moments, she spoke again, “No, master, I don’t think I want to be a mage. It’s—it’s too much like I would be following behind Walker. I’m not as good at it as he was, and it isn’t as fun for me as it was for him.”

Her admission stung quite a bit. I had high hopes for Lilly, and she was more than capable of casting what little magic she had learned. To say I was crestfallen would be close to the mark. It was one of the downsides of allowing a close attachment to humans. They would inevitably say something that hurt. Of course, I didn’t show my feelings on my face. I ran my hand through my beard and answered with a “Hmmm.”

“I don’t know what I want to do. I wish Walker had never left. I miss him so much.”

I nodded along and let her talk for a while about her feelings for her brother. I could see the sadness and loss, and knew that at times like this speaking about the pain could help some. Not a lot, but some. I spent an hour with her on the topic before I redirected the conversation.

“Child, if you don’t want to want to study magic, then what do you want to do?”

“Be a queen!” she said excitedly and sat up in her chair. Her energy at that moment reminded me of when she had first traveled with me from Sena City to the tower. She would ask questions as if she were seeing the world for the first time.

I chuckled at her answer, and she looked abashed.

“I know, I jest, but at the same time I dream, father,” Lilly said, and looked towards the ceiling in thought as she continued to speak. “I dream of being the ruler of a kingdom, and everyone looking up to me. Of knights and mages bowing and taking my orders. It’s silly, I know. Queens are born, the title isn’t something that can be achieved through study or hard work. It’s a little girl's dream when I’m a woman.”

I searched my mind for any way I could answer her, a suggested method of study or a way to progress down that path, but it wasn’t something I was familiar with. I didn’t know what classes or positions would allow the young lady to grow into a noble. I would need to discuss it with Count Wilchrest or even Duchess Eiston to see if it were even possible. Perhaps a marriage into a title of some sort? I certainly had the money to afford another barony if such a deal was offered, but, given the ongoing war and the coming pestilence, there was no telling what the future would hold.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 4

I was still angry at the nature elemental as I returned carried on up the stairs. I berated myself for the modicum of trust I had granted it, thinking that the threat of death would keep it in line. Nature elementals, unlike the others, could not return to the Plane of Nature if killed. Other elementals could, so long as the gem that they were summoned through remained whole after their destruction.

I had once spent long hours to study why they were required to be bonded to an existing plant to be summoned and why killing that plant killed them as well. That was the impetus for my foray into the Plane of Nature. Yet, even after that misguided adventure, I was still no closer to a confirmed answer. Suppositions, I had plenty.

The two floors above my assistants’ quarters contained a library, a bath, and my quarters. Despite my earlier instructions to bring tonight’s meal to my quarters, I wanted to prepare for tomorrow's conversation with Lilly. I was certain I had a tome or scroll that detailed the effects of bonding with a parasitic plant familiar, and that would be great reading material for the young woman.

It was in my library that I found my assistant Philipe. The young man was tall, with freckles and wavy red hair, and was sitting at a table studying one of the tomes from my library. I had warded the books so that a certain level of skill was needed to access the ones that contained higher-tier knowledge, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull literature from the shelves if he were capable of it.

Upon noticing me, he stood and bowed his head, “Good afternoon, master.”

I greeted him with a nod in return. I didn’t trust myself to keep my anger over Lilly and the nature elemental from my tone. That he sought to improve his magic by studying in his free time was something I appreciated, and I didn’t want to interrupt him further.

It only took a few minutes to pull the scroll, a journal from a third-tier green mage entitled ‘Record of the Creeping Moss,’ a long and tedious read from an overeager woman who eventually succumbed to her own familiar. The final entry was written by the adventurer who found and slew the shambling corpse only to realize that it had once been a mage.

After I sat the scroll on the table, I looked to see I had several missives that I had not read since my return to the tower. Notably, none were from any of the gem merchants or academy mages that had once belabored me with their tedious requests. Instead, I found three requests for trade agreements, two requests from mages seeking to join my ‘conclave’, a missive from Baroness Nix and Count Wilchrest, a fancier scroll that was a missive from Duchess Eiston, and, the final scroll of heavily carved jade that came from the King.

I glanced at the trade agreements first. Two, for fish, I would redirect to my former assistant Kine who was an alderman for the village that had grown around my tower. The third was for pottery, and I would pass it along to Ram’s wife to take to her clan for consideration. I did need to find a source of quartz to carry out my agreement with Alred to construct portals, but that was something I could assign to another tomorrow.

The two missives from mages seeking to join my ‘conclave’ confounded me. I didn’t recall having a conclave unless one counted the tower I had granted to Loralie and the others residence in. I set those scrolls aside, to respond to later. The two did much to extol their experience and knowledge, but neither was superior in any way to any of the teachers at my old academy, the Arcanum of Elementalus.

With the easier mail dealt with, I had two missives left. The one from the Duchess was a congratulatory letter that promised to deliver four more couches to me within the season, along with a formal confirmation of Count Wilchrest’s new title, Count of the Eastern Baronies. With only a need to send thanks in return, it required no immediate action.

The next scroll was from Count Wilchrest and Baroness Nix. Given that I had seen them within the month, I thought it strange they would write me so soon after the battle. It was unlikely that any Mirktallean armies had arrived at Gold Castle already, if Mirktal was even willing to risk more of their forces. I opened the scroll to find a short message written in Count Wilchrest’s handwriting.

To the illustrious Wizard Nemon Fargus, Master of the Arcane, Champion of Western Sena, Savior of House Shielding, Hero of the Battle of Gold Castle,

It is with great honor that we announce to you our pending nuptials.  Countess Nix and I have the honor of joining our two houses this coming autumn. Our wedding will be preceded by a ball to coincide with the local fall harvest festivals.

We cordially invite you to attend in a place of high honor, to be seated at our table during the feast. We would be delighted for you to join us and witness the ceremony. Your attendance would be as great a blessing as any couple could wish for, and our joy would be exuberant should you participate.

Baron Froom has already confirmed he will be in attendance.

Count Wilchrest and Baroness Nix

The message itself was rather standard for an invitation. It was the last line that caused by eyebrow to twitch. I drummed my fingers on the table. Certainly, my former apprentice’s attendance didn’t necessitate mine. I would attend or not based on my own desires and events as they unfold. Yet, even if I didn’t attend, I would be responsible for providing a wedding gift. That Baron Froom was attending would mean that my gift would need to be superior in every way. My pride wouldn’t allow for anything less. I spent a few moments considering different ideas before I placed the invitation down on the table for future consideration.

The message from the King was last. One that filled me with an anxious hesitation, as we had not parted on good terms. The scroll was locked by an enchantment, something to notify when it was opened and ensure that the receiver was the only one that could do so. I didn’t expect any wizard tricks from the sender, not like I would from my colleagues, but at the same time I wasn’t certain that there wouldn’t be a trap of some sort inside. The locking enchantment was nothing that I couldn’t bypass, a third-tier spell that I wasn’t entirely familiar with but could piece together or take apart easily enough.

I considered it for several moments before making a decision. I took the scroll with me to the roof and set up several protective wards. The moonstone on the pedestal in the center of my roof was enchanted to prevent scrying, and I doubted any mage could pierce its veil. By the time I had finished my preparations, the scroll case was resting inside a magical circle on the stone floor and the sun was setting. I stopped for an hour to watch and to eat a wonderful meal of beef and broccoli slathered with thick gravy that a servant had brought to me while I worked.

When I finished dining, I ordered the roof cleared. With a deep breath, I cast my spell to unlock the King’s missive in a way that would leave no notice I had done so. I was fully prepared for a trap inside, but nothing happened. I then followed it with several other detection spells to tell me if it was poisoned or cursed, but I detected neither. I racked my mind for any other possible answers, and eventually shielded myself from the possibility hidden of scribe skills as I approached.

The first and last time I had met with this King Sena, I had refused a direct order from the man. Certainly, I had valid reasons for doing so, but I knew that he had felt insulted. Enough to kill my former assistant Walker, and to send assassins to kill me. If he had taken my warnings of the coming Pestilence to action, then perhaps I would have been more trusting. Yet, he hadn’t. In fact, he withdrew the Senan armies east, away from the Duchy of Eiston where I lived, in an attempt to force me into the war with Mirktal. An actioned that resulted in the death of Duke Eiston and left three Mirktallean armies free to march across the countryside. Armies that would have undoubtedly arrived at my tower if they weren’t stopped.

As I carefully opened the scroll, I had a wide range of possibilities in mind for what the message it might contain. Everything from being declared an outlaw to congratulating me on my part in defeating the kingdom’s enemies. Even with such a wide range of expectations, I still found myself surprised enough to wonder if the man had gone mad. In my hands, I held a summons to answer to the king under an accusation of treasonous cooperation with the Seafolk.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 3

Lilly didn’t hide the frightened look on her face.  Rather, she cringed and looked at the ground as if she expected to be scolded.  I could have used this as an opportunity to teach the young lady, and had half a mind to give her the scolding she expected.

Instead, I clasped my hands behind my back and walked into her room.  In a firm voice, I spoke one word to the young woman.

“Sit,” I ordered.

She hurried to sit on her unmade bed, a hand clasped around her wrist as if she still thought to hide it from me.  I closed my eyes and took several deep breathes to calm myself and organize my thoughts.  Lilly was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. That she made those decisions, for good or for ill, was something I knew would be needed for her to grow into adulthood.

I wasn’t her father, regardless of what she called me, and any authority I held over Lilly was that which she gave me.

Should I come across too harsh, then she may flee my tower to never be seen from again.  Part of me wanted that.  I already knew I cared too much. If she fled, I would be able to release my concern for her wellbeing.  It was a selfish part of me, that was true. It wasn’t a big part, though, and I immediately felt guilty for even letting the thought cross my mind.

“Let me see,” I told her, as I leveled a stern gaze.

Slowly she drew one hand away to reveal the leafy bracelet that grew from her tanned skin.  Tiny leaves, almost like clovers, grew evenly around her wrist.  Each was no more than a knuckle tall and not more than the size of my smallest fingernail.  If I hadn’t known better, it would be difficult to tell apart from a freshly woven bracelet.

I took her hand in mine as I leaned in close to inspect the thing with my mana sight.  The roots grew from the leaves and all connected to a single larger root that dug from her palm up into her forearm.  It looked incredibly painful, and I couldn’t tell how she wasn’t screaming this very moment about it.  Worse, it was a parasite of some kind.  The mana flow in Lilly’s body had shifted to feed the plant.

While I investigated it, I was still considering how I should treat the young lady.  Should I come across too soft, then it would be coddling the young woman.  I felt a very strong urge to sit down beside her and console her.  To tell her that it was okay and that everyone makes mistakes.

A truth that rang especially true when one considered the lengths that grief can drive us to.  I couldn’t expect this young woman to have mastered the ability to shove the emotions into a barrel in the back of her mind so that she could think clearly.  It took years for me to master that ability.

My options weren’t those two things.  They represented two directions on a road that had many intersections.  I didn’t want her to grow to have either a shortage or overabundance of caution, and my reaction today could inspire each.

Within the plant’s root, though I found some oddities of spellcraft.  A familiar contract.  A tiny, tiny chip of amber.  Green magic and blood magic, intertwined in a blunt, archaic fashion.  I could remove the plant, but the familiar contract made odd chains that meant that if I did it could hurt Lilly even more than the physical pain.  Familiars normally bonded to a mage in a way that helped both, yet the loss of one was almost always the death of the other.  Given that not even a season had passed since Walker’s death, I feared what killing it would do.

I must have poked and podded the plant for longer than she could tolerate because she soon interrupted me to speak.

“Master, please don’t kill it.  I—I know I should have asked you first, but Miss Ivy said it would help.  I have been feeling so melancholy that I just wanted to sleep and not awake.  It helps, and I don’t want you to take it away.” She shifted about as she spoke, as if physically uncomfortable from the very words.

“Hmmm,” I answered.

Of course, I knew that the nature elemental was the cause of this.  There was no one else that I could think of who could do it.  That the elemental did this to Lilly told me that she hadn’t learned her lesson when I last had given it.  It was a time-consuming annoyance to break a summoning like the one I had made without killing it.  A day or two’s effort that could be better spent in my research.

“Please, fath—master,” Lilly asked again, almost begging.

I sighed before I answered. “Young lady, I am very,” I paused as I searched for the best word, “disappointed.  Have you considered that if your brother passes to the beyond, you should be sad?”

Lilly didn’t answer me.

Instead, she blinked back tears and looked away.  Her uninfected hand curled into a fist and she lightly bit on her knuckle.

I wanted to continue to explain how what she did was wrong, but, when I saw her react that way, I couldn’t bring myself to scold her further. Instead, I placed my hand on her shoulder and began to pat.

“Young lady, we will discuss this further, but now may not be the best of times.  No, I won’t kill this thing you have on your arm, but some changes will need to be made.” I said it calmly and with a small smile.

Her golden eyes caught mine, just for a moment, before they rolled up into her head.

I leaned her back onto the bed, as my sleep spell took hold.

“Mr. Aide, if you would, fetch Eni for me.  I require one of his pups, preferably one tied to the earth element,” I spoke without even looking back at the man.  I trusted he had been reliably waiting outside Lilly’s room the entire time.

It was late afternoon by the time I had finished, and the summer sun was streaming into the room.

The process had been much more intensive than I had originally imagined.  I had to bend the spellwork for the green and blood magic in a way that disconnected it from Lilly without harming her or the plant, and then move it to the puppy swiftly enough that it remained intact.  All while I listened to the dying screams of my nature elemental and smelt the acrid smoke that fumed from her vines.

I could have killed her quickly, but that wouldn’t have done much to show my displeasure.  Instead, I slowly burnt it from the top of my tower down into the dirt where its roots grew. The thing had begged, threatened, screamed, or pleaded the entire time, but I would show it no mercy.  Several times during my efforts to restore Lilly, I had paused in my work to allow for my seneschal to answer questions and concerns from others.

I assumed that the residents of my tower and the nearby villagers would have plenty of questions regarding the reason for the noise, yet I wasn’t concerned by their worries at the moment.  I should be, I knew.  Rumors of a strange wizard who tortured women would undoubtedly float about for many years, but I focused on reviewing the spellwork I had crafted the last several hours.

On the floor beside the bed slept three wolf pups.  One was a pup with cracked rock for skin, and I used it to test the spellwork.  Its skin made it unsuitable to plant the familiar on.  The second was a normal wolf pup, the last resort if the parasitic plant didn’t take to the third.  The third, for whatever reason, had been born with skin and fur made of mud.  It dripped and dropped splatches onto the floor when it was carried in.  While all were dirty beasts, this one was undoubtedly the worst of the three.

Still, I hoped its muddy fur would be the perfect ground for Lilly’s familiar to grow.  The transfer was a success.  One of the priestesses of Elora had come by to heal Lilly’s arm.  Miss Ivy had burnt low enough to the ground that no one could hear her screams any longer.  It was time for me to wake Lilly.  With a wave of my hand, I stopped the sleeping spell I cast upon the young woman and waited in a nearby chair for her to wake.

It wasn’t long before she rubbed her eyes and yawned.  In less than two breathes, she sat upright with a start. “Master?!  What happened?  We were talking and—” she stopped mid-sentence when she looked at her wrist. Then her eyes widened as her gaze fell to the pups sleeping on the floor.

Finally, they turned to look out the window.  She leaped from her bed and darted to the window to stare down at the missing ivy and scattered ash.

Her lip quivered, and her eyes flashed with anger as she spun around to face me. “You killed her!” Lilly screamed.

I nodded as I answered, “I did.”

“She betrayed my trust,” I said.

She was so upset, her arms shook, venomous words spewed from her mouth, “And would you kill me, too?

She was helping me!  I agreed to it!  What have you done?  Off to fight in a war, and then hiding away in your sitting room like Walker’s death meant nothing!”

The accusation hurt some, but I didn’t let my feelings show.  Instead, I reached down and plucked the two extra sleeping pups into my hands as I spoke, “Miss Lilly, I have some matters to attend to, and will speak with you tomorrow.”  I gave her one last small smile I as left the room.

I paused outside of Lilly’s room to hand the two pups to Fentworth, “I believe I will take dinner in my room tonight.  We will continue my survey tomorrow.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 2

The day after Baron Froom departed, I had left several things on my mind, not the least of which were the additional responsibilities I would need to complete to meet his request.  While it was mildly overwhelming to consider, I also didn’t need to do anything this very day.  It would be better if I took stock of my tower, supplies, experiments, and the various residents in and around me.  With this in mind, I decided to start with the lowest part of my tower, the dungeon.

After a morning meal of eggs and oatmeal, of course.

A long flight of circular stairs led to the dungeon beneath my tower, where I found three and a half rooms.

The circular chamber that housed the dungeon core was alive with activity.  The core itself floated above a pedestal, lighting the chamber.  In rows around it grew my cultivar of the Asrid Flowers, the blooms bright yellow.  Mushroom men watered, pruned, and harvested the flower petals, before they placed them on top of the dungeon core to quickly dry. The dried petals were then  stored in a nearby crate.

This chamber, of course, was warded to prevent any of the dungeon creatures from escaping.  Outside it, and opposite to the entryway was another chamber I had once created to store the various dungeon creatures and plants when I had come across a parasitic mushroom that required it the previous dungeon environment to be burnt to the ground.  Now, the chamber was mostly empty, the shelves of clear bottles and jars that remained held dried or dead things that I had decided not to return to the dungeon.  Each shelf was clearly labeled with a sheet of parchment describing what had once been placed there, along with an illustration.  This was the work of Lilly, my former Assistant’s sister.

I took measured steps into the dungeon and ignored the now knee-high mushroom men that stopped working to bow their greetings.  Instead, I roughly measured the mana crystals that grew on the walls and ceiling, those crystals being the source my tower would draw from to support some powerful enchantments I had prepared but not yet cast.  The glittering lights held from within the crystals gave me a rough estimate of how much more power the room could hold and how much I could draw from.

None of the spellwork I placed previously looked frayed with use, a good outcome.  A few of the crystals looked cracked from having too much power drawn too quickly, but that was something I had expected and planned for in my spellcraft.  This spellwork was, to me, the most valuable part of the dungeon.  The dungeon had another room to the left, and the beginnings of a third room behind the crystal’s pedestal and opposite to the entryway.

In my last visit down here, I had turned the beginnings of the second room into a full room for the mushroom men’s village to relocate.  It would free up the main room to grow more Asrid Flowers and mana crystals.  I didn’t have any plans for the newly developing room, and decided to let it be for now.  I did check in on the room for the mushroom village to see what changes they had wrought.  Their social growth was amazing and a little frightening to me, as their miniature society continued to develop under my tower.

The room hadn’t gone many significant changes since I last looked in.  The mushroom people had grown a handspan taller and adjusted their homes to match.  On the walls, flat mushrooms grew out like shelves and supported more homes.  In various parts of the village, well-made statues depicting myself, Lilly, or some of my other assistants still stood. In other parts of the room, there were farms for other plants and pens for creatures like centipedes and frogs.  The biggest change in the entire room was a platform that was raised two knuckles high that appeared to be some kind of arena.  There, a mushroom man was in a fight against a centipede as long as my arm, all while other mushroom men stood around.

I watched for a few moments, trying to understand how the concept of a fighting arena had made its way to these people, before I shook my head.  I didn’t have enough time to study the matter, which was unfortunate.

Perhaps I would need to hire yet another assistant solely to monitor the dungeon.  Instead, I took myself upstairs to continue the survey of my tower.

The next stop was the floor halfway between the dungeon and the rest of the tower’s basements.  The cellar.  I stopped in for only a moment, mostly to check that we had good wine reserves, and noticed that one of my assistants had expanded it some.  What was once a single hall, now had two additional rooms built from the sides. All the vegetables and fruit seemed store on one side, but I was happy to see the other was entirely stocked with shelves of various wines.  I would need to commend my new seneschal for his foresight.

The next floor up from my dungeon was my laboratory.  Two doorways led off from the landing in the stairwell.  One went directly into my laboratory and the other a prison cell containing a female scout.  Murittita seemed much more composed than last I had seen her.  The woman I felt the need to title ‘the quivering mess’ sat calmly on her bed with a slightly worried look in her eye, her thick lips pursed as if prepared to speak. I nodded a greeting to the woman with intent to let her be while I checked on my different experiments, but was stopped by her call.

“Matronless Wizard, something is wrong with your bird.”

It was one of the first sentences she had spoken to me without including a belligerent insult, so I considered that progress for the woman.  Yet, I didn’t respond, not wanting to set her off.  Instead, I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.  It didn’t take me long to realize she didn’t plan to say anything else, instead I noticed that she only stared at me.  Her eyes, once lifeless, seemed to have a little spark to them.

Yet, once I stepped inside my laboratory, I immediately saw what she was referring to.  The bird, a once colorful animal that could repeat words was one of two that were gifted to me from my former assistant Baron Froom.

The animal was supposedly long-lived and would make a good potential familiar, the other being a tortoise that was also in the room.  Instead of finding a colorful speaking bird sitting in its cage, I found a hip-height monstrosity that could barely breath.  The feathers had turned grey, and looked to have tiny faces in them, the beak was more predatory, with a longer sharper point.

Even more startling, though, was what it said.  As soon as it saw me, it shrieked, “Blood!”

The sound was so loud, I stopped in my tracks.  When it did it again, I applied a spell I had crafted for Chelsea, something that would make the speaker not heard by those around them, and paced around the cage.

It was a disappointment.  Since the animal was something caught and found in Tervan, I suspected that it had some sort of link with their bloodgod and gained an aspect from it that caused it to monsterize.

I felt torn on the matter.

On one hand, studying such a phenomenon could lead to new spellcraft.  On the other, I didn’t know if the reach of that god included seeing through the eyes of such an animal.

The tortoise was doing fine at the moment, but now I had doubts.  If this bird had become my familiar before it monsterized, would that give the Tervan’s bloodgod a way to attack me?  If so, would some other deity, one that linked with tortoises have the same option?  Doubts such as these were why I hesitated to bond with one of the familiars gifted, something that I was now doubly grateful that I waited on.

I allowed myself a sigh, and used a combination of earth magic to kill and fire magic to burn away the corpse of the dreadful creature.  I simply couldn’t risk having something like that around.  If the Histories were to be considered, the gods were quick to kill any who opposed them.  The elven side of my heritage already placed me in a questionable spot and I had no urge to test if those waters were hot.

Shuffling sounds from the cell caught my attention, and I saw Murittita huddled on the floor again.

I considered that she had been here for more months now, with less improvement than I hoped for and that the calming effects of the tea might do well for her.  Somehow the crates I had brought to war had not found their way back to me, and I was uncertain what kind of outcome would come from that.

Still, I put the thought to the back of my mind for further consideration later, and directed my attention back to why I had come. On one side of the laboratory contained cells hosting rodents of different types, each with a variation of the longevity spellwork cast on them.  Their short lives made it easier for me to determine the effect of the spell, and the small bodies were easily destroyed if they turned into an abomination.

Beside those experiments were three extremely warded cells, each with a variation of the parasitic mushroom that had been fed only hydra body parts.  I had already released one into the hydra that filled the western canyon.

Along the far wall were the monsterized versions of the Asrid flowers, many of which exhibited signs of further evolution.  I had already proved the Asrid flowers came from a dungeon monster plant, so it was only curiosity regarding what the evolutions would entail that kept this experiment ongoing.

The desk on the left side of my laboratory contained an assortment of things.  A long table held up my notes and journals associated with each experiment.

Crates filled with unused equipment and supplies sat well-marked and organized.  The broken cage of the parrot and the remaining cage containing the tortoise we closer to the entrance, near where I stood.  I used a quick cleaning spell on the dust that had accumulated in my month-long absence from the room, and then opened the tome I used to track my other experiments.

With a burst of magic, I reached out to look through the wind elementals I had monitoring the experiments in the canyon of hydra, and began to write.  The illusionary rabbits continued to function as they had last time, distracting the hydra into fighting each other.  The pile of hydra infected with the parasitic mushrooms had grown. It had become a squirming mount that covered half the width of the canyon, but too dense to observe how well the mushrooms performed.  The fifth-tier earth elemental I shaped into an ever-rolling boulder continued to churn through hydra. Now, more boulders now followed behind it like chicks behind a hen.  While I felt some concern about the growth of naturally occurring earth elementals, I would only continue to observe.  Naturally occurring elementals were something I hadn’t seen before, so I was eager to see what the outcome might be.

After I recorded the results, I rose and stretched my arms.  I had only worked for an hour, but I needed to continue to review my tower.

If I didn’t force myself to step away now, I would likely find that I had spent days reviewing and tweaking my experiments.   I paused on the way out to glance at the freed Mirtallean slave, and ask her a simple question.

“Are you ready to be freed from your confines?” I spoke with a calm, emotionless tone as if whispering to an unruly horse.  Yet the woman, who was on the bed with her arms around her knees only shrunk back into herself and shook her head vigorously.  I waited for a few breathes to ensure that was truly her opinion and not an instinctual reaction, before departing.

The next floor contained my tower crystal and its guardian monster, a young giant spider that hid among the rafters I designed.  I had spent a few hours last week changing the design so that the acoustics of the room echoed back words in a delightful manner. Yet I had been in the room yesterday, and didn’t feel the need to further review it.

Instead, I continued my way to the next floor, one I both loved and hated.

The landing for this floor led to a small room that opened to two doorways.  On the right, was my new sitting room.  Four Senan couches and several Mirktallean Longchairs were carefully placed to allow me to rest in the comfort.

I need to further decorate the room, with wooden tables to rest my wine glasses and an elaborate painting or two.  A rug would do wonders as well. Yet, despite my desire, I didn’t enter the room.  If I did, I would likely spend the next few days in the comforting arms of a couch with a wine glass in hand as I explored my Authority over earth spells.

The other doorway led to what I called the Halls of Valor.  There, pedestals and alcoves held the memories of lost friends and loved ones, or rather the items they left behind.  The wall on the far end of the room supported the symbol of Bi, Senan god of strength and valor, and before it was a pedestal that held my most prized possession.

The Bood of the Dead, a journal where I wrote the names and stories of those who had passed before me.

Those pages likely contained just as many dried tears as they held dried ink. Even as I gazed at it for the briefest moment, I felt a sense of melancholy threaten to overwhelm me.  One day, I would do something more for those friends I had lost. Perhaps something that brought the images and memories recorded within to life in sculpture or mural.  Not today, though.

The next floor, and the level closest to the surface, held the kitchens.  The room had been divided into five parts, with the center of it being an oven heated by a fire elemental.  This oven led up to the highest floor of the tower, though it functioned more as a heater for anywhere but here.  Immediately from the landing was a small dining table and chairs, with two doorways on either side.  One led to the servants’ quarters, the other to the kitchen and pantry.  I heard the sizzle of fish grilling and smelled bread baking.  I had no desire to disturb my servants at the moment, though, and continued to my first floor.

I was proud of my first floor, the entrance to my tower.  The brass door that led outside was so well polished I could see the reflection of the rest of the room on it.  The centerpiece of my room was a fire pit engraved with elaborate geometric designs, designs that extended onto the ceiling. The etched lines were filled with copper underneath and an amethyst coating on top.  On the opposite side of the room, three grand windows with panes made of amethyst allowed a purple-tinted light to flood the room during the day.

My favorite part of the room, though, was the curving table that wrapped around the fire pit with stone chairs on either side.  A wondrous gift created by my two former assistants, Kine and Walker.  The table and chairs were all engraved with designs that matched the firepit and ceiling, though only the table had those etching filled in.  What made it my favorite was how uncomfortable sitting in those etched stone chairs would be for guests, a silent way to let them know that I didn’t want to be bothered.

My Seneschal, Fentworth Aide, was seated in one of those uncomfortable chairs now.  The man leaned back from the tome he had been scribbling in, something that looked to be a ledger for tracking expenses, and stood to greet me.

His black hair with speckles of gray and serious expression hadn’t changed since he took the position at my tower.

“My lord, what do you require?” the man asked, the pomp and dignity oozing off from him in a wave that left me glad I had hired the man.  Formal and disciplined were his two best traits in my opinion, and I wished my other servants held themselves to the same standards.

“Today I have decided to take an account of my tower and its surroundings.  You may join me if you wish.”

Fentworth nodded his head, closed his ledger, and tucked it under an arm as he took up position to my right and two steps behind me as we walked to the next floor.  There, the landing let out to a circular room with four doorways and each doorway led to quarters for my staff.  Two rooms were reserved for my assistants, though only one was in residence at the tower.  My seneschal had taken another room, and the fourth room belonged to Lilly.

Thinking of her now, I hadn’t seen much of the young lady since I returned from the battle, with her only leaving her room for meals.  I had related the news to her upon my return, but then had gone on to focus on the new options for spells that my Authority afforded me access to see.  While I had no official responsibility for the young woman, I had unfortunately allowed myself to feel as though I had.  Leaving her unattended, even with the responsibilities I had assigned to her, was an oversight on my part.  Doubly so, knowing that she still grieved Walker’s death.

So, after I considered what I would discuss with her, I knocked on her door and waited.  I heard the rustle of cloth and the shuffling of steps before her door creaked open to reveal a barely clothed young woman with messy yellow hair and a defeated look.  Her shoulders were slumped forward, and her golden eyes took time to focus on me, as if she had just awoken.

Yet, despite all of those things, I felt an immediate swelling of anger.  I gritted my teeth and scowled, lest I take my rage out on Lilly, but that didn’t stop my face from twisting as I saw something she had hidden from me.

“Master?” She asked softly, a hint of fear in her voice.  Her eyes followed to see where I stared, before she quickly hid her arm behind her back.

Yet it was too late, and I had seen it.  Around her wrist was a bracelet of tiny green leaves, leaves that grew from her skin.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 1

I stood on the roof of my tower beside my former assistant and now fifth-tier [Planar Lord], Baron Alred Froom.  Both of us were reeling from the red-tinted night sky to the south, a sign that the Tervan’s had summoned the avatar of their bloodgod.  The wind carried the scent of blood in the air.  Even my four owl-shaped gargoyles perched on the roof were unsettled, which they showed by turning their heads in the direction.  

I had the urge to cast a scrying spell, to see what things were unfolding in that distant land, but I withheld it.  It would do no good to attract attention of that kind.  Yet, there was only so long one could spend staring in the distance, “Come, let us return to our meal.”

The man simply nodded, the grey hairs on his head shook in the wind.  Downstairs, the meal we had been eating had grown cold, though I didn’t feel hungry anymore.  The wine tasted the same, and I drank a heavy gulp hoping the fragrance would overpower that of what I smelt above.  

The room had previously felt warm and inviting with the fire flickering off the expansive copper and amethyst geometric designs I had placed.  Now, it felt darker and foreboding.   An uncomfortable silence passed for a few moments, the two of us trapped in our thoughts, before I spoke again.  

“Tell me of your fifth-tier class,” I said, an attempt to return us to the previous jovial conversation, the one from not even an hour past.

Alred waved his hand as if dismissing the thought, “I will, but first, we should speak of the Tervan’s. 

Do you think they mean to war on us?” 

His eyes were startlingly clear as he asked.

I considered the matter. 

It wasn’t impossible, though normally the Tervan people stayed in their jungles.  When they did come north, it was raiding parties looking for sacrifices and not war.  The shattered lands and their people stood between us.  Claimed by neither Sena, so that the Kingdom would have no obligation to defend them.  Tervan only saw viewed those settlers of the shattered lands as cattle to be sacrificed.  

If they were to point their god north then there was little Sena could do to stop them, not with the ongoing war against Mirktal.  A fearful thought indeed.  Yet, an even more fearful thought was that the Pestilence, the ocean of hydra that would end our age had broken through the mountains or even circumvented them through the ocean.  That the summoning of their deity was because they had little else to fight off the monsters. 

My frown only grew as I considered both options.  Neither one was pleasant.  I found myself scowling by the time I answered him, “I doubt they intend to war with Sena.  More likely the Pestilence has arrived on Tervan shores.”  

“Tell me of their god, I only know bard’s tales and tomes.  I understand you campaigned there?” Alred asked.

“Yes,” I said and paused. 

The war against Tervan was long ago, and one of my most unpleasant memories.  Rather than rehash the past, I pulled out what I could remember of their religion and began to speak, “I won’t speak their god’s name, especially not at the moment, but they believe it has two forms.  During the day it is an enormous snake with a head on each end of its body. The king of all serpents who seeks to drink the blood of the world.   At night, it is said to become a raven that ferries the souls of the honored dead to the afterlife.  The souls of the unworthy become feathers in its wings, wings that cause night itself.”

“The king of serpents?” Alred muttered in a growing shock. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision, “Then we must move swiftly if we are to save anyone.” It was a declaration stated more firmly than I had ever heard him speak before.  

I sipped my wine as I watched and waited.  I hadn’t considered it much before. If the Tervans could use their god to control the hydra somehow, created so deep a fear in me that I didn’t dare to approach the thought.  It wasn’t long until he spoke again.

He withdrew a tome from one of his bags, and slid it across the table to me, “This is my observations regarding the Planes and my class.  I have detailed all I could for your library, but let me show you what I have planned.”

In the air beside him, he began casting an illusion.  First, a globe of green and blue formed, and then the image of plate-sized crystals formed around it. Each crystalline disk seemed as big around as the globe itself. 

“With the world we live on at the center, the planes float around it.  As you know, each plane is tied to a type of crystal.”

He began speaking as if an instructor, but I didn’t interrupt.  The plates began to rotate around the globe in some pattern that I was having trouble following, if there was a pattern.

Alred continued, “The elemental planes are known, yet when I went to the plane of nature, I was able to make it to the edge and see the other planes as well.  There are far more than we ever suspected.  And they fight constantly with each other.  Each time one nears the other, there is battle.”

I nodded along, watching as a plate topped with fire brushed against one topped with water and small creatures within both began to war.  Alred was much better with illusions than I had realized.

“But there are some planes that do not battle.  The Plane of Nature,” he paused to make one of the discs larger, this one with an enormous tree growing in the center. “That tree in the center is the Woodfather, one of the original gods that created this world. The nature elementals say it sleeps and waking it might end everything.”

The plate shrunk back to its previous size and continued to spin around the globe.   Next, another plate stopped rotating and grew.  The crystal looked clear, and on the top of it, a shimmering dome of magic hid what was within.  “The Plane of Giants.  Built upon a Plane of Quartz.  They are trapped sleeping, and none of the other planes go near for fear they might wake.”

I glanced curiously between the image of the plane and Alred.  When I had attempted to send my mind through quartz in the past to discover what kind of elemental connected through that crystal, I had never received a response.  Never would I have guessed that this was because giants slept on the other side.  I had assumed that this meant there was nothing associated with the crystal, but if that wasn’t true it had a whole host of implications.  I glanced at the amethyst I had used to make patterns in the room with new ideas floating in my head.

Alred, though, continued and brought my mind back to the conversation at hand, “My class allows me to claim a plane and territory to build upon.  I plan to claim quartz and build outside this dome.  Humanity can hide beneath the shadow of giants.  Humans are likely too tiny to wake them, and the other planes won’t attack us because of where we build.”

I gave him a knowing smile, “You say it is your plan, but you have already begun, haven’t you?”  It wasn’t that wild of a guess.  I knew the man, and when he was my assistant, he often began projects before asking for my permission.  

The illusion disappeared into the air. Alred returned the smile and gave me a single simple nod of his head acknowledging that he had already begun.  It seemed he hadn’t changed much in his ascension to fifth-tier.

“It sounds dangerous, but so is what we face.  What do you need from me?” I asked, though my mind was already traveling.  

My class gave me access to a magical Authority, three of them in fact, and the first I had chosen recently as Earth.  One of the spells I had been investigating this past week would allow me to grow crystals.  I had planned to summon elementals to fight off the Pestilence, but perhaps I could put it to better use now.  I owed the man a gift tonight, and such a spell would likely offer him much more benefit than what I had prepared, a book of recipes for Flame Boar.

He leaned forward, his face just as grave as when we stood on my tower-top moments ago, “I have my assistants and disciples working on creating quartz doorways.  I would ask for your help to place them and evacuate as many as we can.”

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 48

A month had passed since what the commoners were calling the ‘Battle of Four Couches’.  I absolutely loathed the name.  Certainly, the was a commonality between their being four armies, four mages, and four couches, but it just left a bitter taste in my mouth.  It wasn’t the first time a battle was given a ridiculous name, though, and my expectations for humans’ ability to name things weren't high, to begin with.

I shook my head, as I considered the matter before me.  I stood before my tower crystal with the inert dungeon core in hand.  The tower crystal could absorb it to improve somehow, though I wasn’t certain exactly what it would do.  There were few records on the topic, and most were simply suppositions. 

This was also the first time  in more than a month that I had visited this room.  I was happy to see that the giant spider I had placed as a guard was still alive, given that all those tasked with feeding it had been preoccupied elsewhere.  That it could survive on mana alone was a little troubling, but I would annotate that as another area of study.  Between the doorways available through my new Authority, the studies on the Asrid Flower, and the research into a Longevity spell, I had more than enough to occupy me. 

And that was just the magical studies I had tasked myself with.  Jax had requested to depart my service to apply the new Beast Bond spell across the country, supposedly in preparation for the coming Pestilence.  While it might save a few lives, I doubted it.  That didn’t stop me from agreeing to the matter, though.  The young man had the urge for adventure, and I wouldn’t keep an assistant that didn’t want to be here.  I'd provided him with a bracelet crafted for conjuring two wind elementals to fly with, somethung I hoped might speed his journey.

With both he and Leslie off on quests, it left Philipe a very busy mage.  Between his responsibilities and assigned studies, the man was teetering on the edge of a stress-induced breakdown, and only the advice given to him by my former assistant now Alderman Kine seemed to keep that from happening. Still, the three of them had proven more trustworthy than the Pyromancer Diedre. 

After her supposed revenge was sated, she had absconded with everything the Silverflame had owned without a word to anyone.  Given her promises to me beforehand, I couldn’t help but to be disappointed in her duplicity.

Loralie and Pyl had returned with me, as well as several new guards and magic-users.  A shaman named Nictus, among them.  Pyl had been able to study the growth of Death Crystals among the battlefields around Gold Castle. and was working on a new project that excited both he and the witches to no end.  Some sort of crystal mirror to commune with the spirits of the dead, and possibly summon them forth into the world.  I was both apprehensive about it and enticed.  

If it worked, I would be able to speak to my mother, Ram, or an entire number of lost comrades and friends. 

Even the ghosts of old mages with secret knowledge.  The opportunities presented were worth the risks, even if I urged them to proceed cautiously.  I believed I fooled them all on the matter, except for Loralie.  Somehow, the woman seemed to be able to see right through me in a lot of things. Still, the matters of romance and the heart were a distraction I didn’t need at the moment.  Hopefully, we would survive long enough to have time to explore a relationship, but that was only if we survived.

I sighed and shook my head.  Even here in my sanctum, the woman distracted me, and I could hear her musical laughter tinkling in my ear.  

With a glance at the tower crystal, I chose yes on the option for it to absorb the dungeon core.  Some other time, I might have been able to reconstruct the original artifact, but I wasn’t certain how long that kind of research would take.  Rather, empowering the Tower Crystal would give me a more immediate gain, even if I wasn’t certain what that gain would be until after it occurred.

I analyzed and documented the changes for the next few hours, before I proceeded back upstairs to attend dinner.  Lilly was conspicuously avoiding me since my return, and I planned to address that today.  However, as I reached the first-floor dining hall, I found my former assistant Baron Alred Froom sitting at the table eating.  If I had thought Count Wilchrest’s expression after victory was smug, Alred’s looked like a cat that had just eaten a bird.  

Beside me, my seneschal bowed, and spoke, “Presenting Alderman Nemon Fargus.”

I gave him a look that said there would be discussions concerning this afterward.  While I might have given orders not to be disturbed when left to my sanctum, and turning away a guest wouldn’t be appropriate, there had to be a better solution than this.  So dour, he didn't even smile when I informed him his family in Gold Castle was safe and sound.

Alred bowed his head, “Good Evening, Nemon.  I was just telling your seneschal how great Derrick’s cooking is.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “Derrick?”

My seneschal politely coughed into a fist politely, “Derrick is your new cook’s name, my lord.”  

“Ah, yes.  Quite so.” I answered quickly, though I was thankful neither of them pursued the topic.  After the pause, I spoke again and moved to take my seat at the table, “Good to see you, Alred.  You look excited.”

Excited might have been an understatement.  Despite his advanced age and his noble dress, the man looked as giddy as a child getting sweet cake.

“Nemon, I was able to reach the fifth-tier.  Not just that, I was able to select Planar Lord following your instructions.  I have been to the different planes, and I think—I think we might have a place to retreat to.  You may have given me the key to saving humanity, my friend.”  He spoke quickly, ignoring the crumbs that flew out of his mouth.  His eyes were alit with an excitement and hope I’d only seen in wizards and freed slaves.

Yet more than his tone and expression, I was taken by his words.  The different planes had always held an interest to me.  They were close to the frontier of magic, and even I could only reach a small part of their power.  If Alred shared what he learned there—I was beyond interested in hearing.

“Alred!  Tell me everything.  Where did you go?  What did you see?  Your class, what skills does it grant?  Have you created your own—”

I couldn’t keep speaking before something crashed through the wards of my tower.  It wasn’t an attack, but a signal of divine might.  The odor of blood, and the loud piercing cry of a raven echoed through all of us.  Both Alred and I looked at each other in surprise. I rose and rushed up the stairs to the top of my tower.  I could hear his footsteps behind me as we ran.  When we reached the top, I could see all my guards staring south, and I looked in that direction as well.

There wasn’t much to see. I thought there was the barest shade of red against the black horizon, but it might have been a trick on my eyes.

The sun had set. Beyond the stars and darkness, the skies were clear.  Yet we all felt it.  The Tervans had summoned their Blood-God.

“What does this mean?” Alred whispered behind me as we started in the darkness.

“My old friend, it means we have much less time than we suspected.  The Pestilence is here.”

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

As mentioned previously, I will be taking about a week from today to outline the next arc/book.  

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

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

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 47

Later that day, I was awoken by a servant’s gentle tapping on the door to the guest quarters I had slept in. Likely less than a half night’s rest, but it should be enough to make it through the rest of the day. I was not looking forward to today, in the least.  The tedium of orchestrating all the after-battle details was often more difficult than the combat itself, especially for a wizard of my ranking.

No doubt, the new Count and other nobility would want to provide me with the details on deaths and injuries from our soldiery. The costs incurred, and the plunder gained. I suspected there would be a large amount of coin and weaponry obtained, especially considering the number of losses incurred by the enemy. Yet, I had no interest in those details.

I had already plundered what little I could from the Grand Magus Ison, the artifacts and magical items not holding up to the fifth-tier earth magic curse as well as I had hoped. The gains of any substance turned out to be little more than an inert dungeon core and the holy spike that had pierced the shriveled heart. Both were still valuable, but not as valuable as I had hoped. If the other fifth-tier mages had artifacts, then I would be interested.

With a taxed expression I followed the servant to where the nobility had gathered, the same hall we feasted at not even a full day prior. While I was somewhat refreshed, I could see by the sunken eyes and unbathed bodies that not many others had the same opportunity.

“Greetings, Savior!” Count Wilchrest boomed as I entered. The other conversations fell quiet, as I took in the audience before me. The Count, with his pig-nose, looked to have seen some battle. His previously polished armor was dented and scratched, but he showed no sign of injury himself.

Beside him, with a hand on his shoulder, Baroness Nix looked weary. Her armor had seen fire magic, with burnt holes that displayed scarred flesh.  Many of the enchantments in her wardrobe were dulled or spent. Of all the in the room, she looked to be the most exhausted.

On the other side of the man, Baron Aide and his mother both stood gracefully, neither showing that they participated in the battle. They wore the same clothing as yesterday, and but stood with an air of happiness. Mercenary captains, officers, and others throughout the room all had varying degrees of exhaustion on their faces, and I didn’t judge them for that.

I nodded back at the Count. “Good afternoon. Twas victory then?” I asked rhetorically.

The answer was a resounding cheer, with cups of wine or ale raised high in the air. I didn’t know if they were waiting on me to say as much or if it was another toast to winning the battle, but it made little difference to me. I took it with aplomb as I walked through the room to approach the Count and give answers to whatever questions he might need.

“Wizard Fargus, we have you to thank for this victory. Without your magic, Gold Castle would have been lost. I can see why the Count calls you Savior,” Baron Aide said after his mother whispered in his ear.

I returned his words with a smile and a nod. I didn’t need more people calling me Savior or granting me titles, and had learned that ignoring such things was often the best response. Support or denial would be seen as a reason to continue.

The Count spoke next, “Savior, we are looking for some direction for the forces united here. Even with our victory, none of our three houses could support an army of this size for long.”

I raised an eyebrow. They were asking me for coin on the back of victory?  That was preposterous! I was about to say as much when Baroness Nix spoke first.

“What my beloved count is asking for is direction, Wizard Fargus. The town cannot feed all these soldiers, especially in its current state,” she spoke demurely, with a sultry glance at the Count.

My anger abated instantly. It was one thing to ask for coin, and another for a solution. “I suppose, I can come up with some direction for some of the soldiery. The farmsteads and citizens of Sena should be warned of the coming Pestilence. That would be a good task for the adventurers that joined us. The mercenaries and former bandits could be directed to provide additional defenses to towns that might need it.” I mused as I proposed different solutions to the problem.

The Count coughed into a hand to draw my attention before he spoke again, “There is another small matter as well that we thought to consult you on.”

“Go on,” I answered.

“Savior, how best should we move people down from this raised town?” the Count continued.

Beside him, Baron Aide nodded vigorously until his mother pinched his side.  It was a shame to see the man, a grown adult, needing such control, but that wasn’t my concern. The count’s question was a good one, and I hadn’t fully considered the matter before.

“Hmm,” I said. Any ramp or switchbacks down the plateau could be used by the Pestilence to climb up.  Perhaps tunnels spiraling inside the stone that could be sealed back by any second-tier mage with the correct spell? Yet, then I would need to create the tunnels and develop the spell for them to learn. Perhaps, it would be better to set one of my apprentices, like Leslie or Philipe, on the matter.

As I was thinking, I saw Leslie enter the room, her expression that of panic. It was as if I only had to consider the person and they would arrive before me.   When her eyes met mine, she immediately began rushing towards us.

I turned back to the nobility, “I will consider it further, it appears I have something I need to deal with.”

Count Wilchrest and Baroness Nix smiled. Baron Aide did nothing to hide his look of relief at my words as we parted.

It was only a few minutes later that I found myself following the woman as she hustled down the fourth set of stairs in the keep. The stairs let out into a dungeon built beneath the storeroom. Guards walked up and down the hallway in silence and I heard the cries and muttering of prisoners held within. Even louder than the other prisoners, a man’s voice screamed from the end of the hall.

“Stormslayer! Stormslayer! Bring him to me! Stormslayer!” the voice cried in a mixture of agony and desperation.

“He will talk to no one but you,” Leslie whispered as she stood beside me. I could see the night hadn’t gone easy on her, as her dark curly hair was strained from sweat and her face lined with weariness.

I simply nodded and walked with her to the end of the hall. There, I could see a man chained to the ground, the formerly rotund fifth-tier pyromancer.  Now, he looked deflated. The one hand he had left was locked into a gauntlet that would keep it from moving. His entire right side and chest were covered in bloody bandages with no arm or shoulder to speak of. His face, panicked and sweaty matched only by feverish eyes.

Beside him, one of the Sisters of Elora was using her priestly magic to try to heal his wounds, but it didn’t look like it would be successful.

“Stormslayer, it is you! Listen quickly, as I haven’t much time!” he cried hoarsely.

“I am here,” I answered and watched as the tension fell away from his body.

“Good, good! You must know. You must—Magus Ison was lying. The kings know nothing of the Pestilence. They don’t care.”

“Oh?” I asked and stroked my beard. I had been hoping for magical secrets laid hidden for centuries, but this might be fruitful to hear as well.

“The priests, the Binder, they have both kings’ ears and want them to spend their strength against each other. Then, when the Pestilence comes, they plan to summon the Dominator.”

Beside the pyromancer, the Sister of Elora paused in her administrations to stare in shocked fear.

“Who is the Dominator—” Leslie began, but I squeezed her shoulder softly to urge her to silence. If the priests were trying to summon the slave-god’s avatar, then I needed to hear what the man said. Not that I trusted him entirely.

“Tell me more. Do you know when, or where?”

His voice was growing raspy, and I recognized the signs of a man on the verge of death, “The winter equinox, but I don’t know where. Their ritual, they need to enslave an entire kingdom. That’s—all that I know. We three, we were slaves as well. We were never meant to kill you. Only ourselves so our king would have no recourse.”

My brows furrowed as I considered his words, “If you were slaves, how can you speak to me thusly? Why tell me?”

The man barked sharped, forced laughter, and glanced at his missing shoulder. “The slavers' chain was on my arm. And if they were to spend my life for nothing after all I had done for them, then I will tell any who can grant me my vengeance.”

He spoke so firmly and defiantly as he stared at his missing shoulder, I couldn’t help but believe him. I waited for several breaths to see what else he had to say before I realized that those were his last words.

It was a week later when I finished the tunnel within the plateau that would lead to the outside. Mena, Meathead, Leslie, Tond, and—for whatever reason—the Sister of Elora stood behind me waiting to go off on their grand quest to stop the ritual to summon the slaver god. Each had achieved fourth-tier Classes, and I had given them what protections I could against the slave-priests’ magic.

I had also given them the holy silver stake that had been part of the artifact used by the Grand Magus Ison.  Given my heritage, I wanted as little to do with ancient gods as possible and l feared the longer I held it, the more likely some ancient power would seek me out.

Standing behind them were the assortment of mercenaries, soldiers, adventurers, and freed slaves that were eager to leave the plateau. Some had agreed to undertake missions to prepare against the Pestilence. Others sought to join the war. More still had their own desires to work towards. I would be wishing them all success as they departed the tunnel to achieve greater heights.

Earlier today, Count Wilchrest had done the same before these men and women entered the tunnel. A planned ceremony of sorts that the two of us had agreed upon. Many of those that remained would be joining the town of Gold Castle, though there was still the matter of some of the slaves not wanting to be freed. I had long ago learned my lesson in trying to free a person who didn’t want it and didn’t seek to repeat it. Instead, I spoke neither for nor against the matter and would let the others learn that lesson on their own.

As I finished the spell and the wall of stone before me pushed out and slid to the side, light burst into the tunnel. Outside, I heard a number of swords being drawn and shouts of soldiers readying for battle. I wasn’t surprised by their presence, having seen them camped around the plateau yesterday, but I was taken aback by their preparation to do battle.

I cast a few additional wards on myself and stepped out into the light to see the men and women surrounding the exit. I didn’t respond to their provocation, instead, I called out in irritation, “What is the meaning of this?”

Before me, dozens of Paladins of Bi sat proudly on their bulls. Archers and swordsmen of ill-repute were gathered around them. One man in full-plate armor walked his bull forwards and his voice thundered through his helm.

“I am [Paladin] Adam, and I have come seeking to free the good wizard Nemon Fargus from Mirktal’s evil clutches. Release him, and be spared!”

I rubbed my temple to try to abate the oncoming headache, as I heard the laughter of those behind me echo back from inside the tunnel. Unfortunately, Meathead chose that moment to misunderstand the situation. He drew a great ax from his back and stomped out into the daylight with an angry expression on his face.

“Second boss is my boss! You can’t have him!” Meathead roared from where he stood beside me, oblivious to the incredulous look I gave him.

While others attempted to stop the two from their ensuing argument and possible battle, I removed a specific tome from my bag to further document reduced intelligence in Paladins and Holy Champions. With this, I believe I had enough proof for a full thesis.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 46

We ate in silence after my words, though the meal didn’t last much longer.  The return to Gold Castle was a pleasant affair, the warmth of the sun wearing away the morning's cool breeze, and the grassland path we walked made for a pleasant stroll.  Not for the servants who carried the tables and dirty plates, perhaps, but for me it was leisurely.

Count Wilchrest walked beside me and spoke of what Baroness Nix had learned while dining.

Apparently, the Mirktallean armies had depleted their food supplies.  One of her fourth-tier skills was suited towards learning secrets, which explained her ring of thieves and spies.  I would have liked to taken credit for this, with the raising of my plateaus, but the Baroness’s rogues also poisoned and sabotaged their supplies.

When we reached the town, many went their separate ways to prepare, myself included.  While the Count didn’t expect an immediate attack, I didn’t want to be ill-prepared for one.  Soldiers, mercenaries, and adventurers rushed through the streets.

Townsfolk huddled in their homes where they could.  I could see equal amounts of hope and fear in their eyes as I walked.

My destination was the keep at the center of town. Baron Aide’s seat, despite being the size of an inn, still stood as one of the tallest buildings, as if the rest of the town built lower out of respect.  The gold-painted building was easy to get to, and Tond accompanied by the two Sisters of Elora, met me along the way.  From the glances and blushes between the three, I suspected their previous absence was related to a special kind of comradery that was built on the eve of battle.

Yet, besides a nod of greeting, I said nothing to chastise the three. If they would have asked me, I would have warned of my own experience.  Still, I was comforted by their presence.  Despite Tond’s small stature, he was an excellent marksman.  The nuns also were tasked with defending me against any holy magics of the slave-priests.   I could contend with the other mages, but religious magics weren’t so easy to defend against.

Inside the keep, we were escorted to the top in a pleasant fashion.  From the top, I could see the entirety of the town, and peer over the walls into the fields beyond.  It was an excellent vantage point, and one I intended to keep as long as I could.   As servants followed us to bring chairs, tables, wine, and cheese, I used my staff to create an enormous magical barrier that covered Gold Castle in a half-globe-shaped ward.   The archers that were already present made way for us all, moving themselves to two sides.

It only took a few breaths to cast but had an immediate effect.  Not just in tinting the light over the town to a light blue color, but also in the general attitudes of the soldiers inside.  I could hear a cheer rise along the wall, and see a small bit of the tension disappear in the guards and servants.  I wasn’t done either, but that would be the most visual of my spells.

For the next step, I cast shields and wards on all those about me.  Simple spells that any third-tier mage could dispel given enough time, but ones that would turn an arrow or spear should some skill allow an enemy archer to strike at a distant target.  Finally, I watched and waited as the three armies positioned themselves outside the three gates to the city.  I had several powerful spells readied, but wanted to use them to counter Mirktal’s mages should they strike.

Yet, waiting was all that I seemed to do as the sun slowly shifted from morning to afternoon.  It was clear, as the enemy made camp, that they would not be attacking immediately.  With nothing further to do, I sat and nibbled at the array of foods prepared for us.  The nuns prayed or flirted with Tond, who himself went back and forth between them.

Night fell, and the stars were shining brightly in the sky when Count Wilchrest arrived.  It was impossible not to hear the man coming as he and his retinue of guards were covered in plate mail that clanked together as they stomped up the stairs.  When he arrived, he gave me a small bow before coming to sit beside me.

“Good evening, Savior,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.

I nodded in return, and continued to survey the town and sip wine.  The nights felt cooler here than at my tower, and I suspected I had the bog to blame for that.  Compared to the afternoon sun, it was a welcome relief.

It wasn’t long before the Count spoke, the urge to share whatever made him happy seemed to almost overwhelm the man.  “Baroness Nix and her band of nightmen are striking Dulther tonight.  If successful, one army will be taken off the field before the battle even starts.”

I had no idea who Dulther was.  One of the Mirktallean nobility, no doubt.  Assassinating the slavers and leaving a slaver army indisposed had been a common tactic for Sena for as long as I could remember.  If successful, it would prove a mighty blow.  Yet I doubted they failed to take measures against it.

I didn’t want to dampen the man’s excitement, either.

So, with a soft smile, I asked, “Oh?”

The count looked out over the town and let out a wistful sigh.  “Baroness Nix is… quite a woman,” he said.  “She is like a rose.  So beautiful, yet dangerous. I see in her the potential to be—"

I began ignoring the words.

I could tell what words he would be speaking next, having heard them so often.  I forced myself to keep my soft smile, but inside I couldn’t help but be irritated.  What caused these humans to tell me when love strikes them?  Don’t they realize who they’re talking to?  Even Count Wilchrest, who knows he sat next to the most powerful mage in Sena.

He could ask questions beyond the realm of everything he knows, mysteries that have laid unsolved for a hundred years. Instead, he tells me about his feelings for a woman.

Still, as much as it irked me to listen to, I did.  If nothing else, him prattling on about his infatuation helped the time go by quicker.

It was well past midnight when the results of Baroness Nix’s attack became evident.  Even from the distance, we could also see the roaring pillar of flame that burst up from the eastern camp.  The light from it shone for miles around. Our soldiers and mercenaries began to rush up the stairs leading to the nearest wall with shouts of alarm.

I stood from where I sat and turned towards the west to prepare should I need to involve myself.  The flaming pillar provided enough light to see the slave-soldiers prepare and march towards the gate.  I had a suspicion at this point, but a warranted one.  I’ve seen Mirtallean commanders give orders to their armies that should they fall the army should attack until no soldier remained.  A complete sacrifice of their troops, but one that caused morale to plummet among the Senan soldiers tasked with defense against their suicidal charge.

I sneered as I watched as those soldiers charged forwards.  Their archers dropped bows to draw swords.  Their calvary steamed ahead as if to batter the gate with their horses’ heads.  Even the servants gathered up knives and bowls to join.  It was an example of everything I despised about the country.

The archers along the wall let loose volleys on the incoming horde, felling many.  It did nothing to stop the charge. I saw Meathead and Mena standing before the gate ready to meet the charge.  Behind them, their retinue of reformed bandits screamed and yelled for the glory to come.

Mages along the wall began to cast a joint spell, and I guiltily hoped they were from the mercenary troop and not the mages under one of my apprentices.  A field of stone spikes would certainly stop the charge, as the slaves would have no choice but to impale themselves to follow their orders.

Yet, before the spell could be cast, the flaming pillar began to move closer to town leaving a trail of flames burning in the grasslands.  I started preparing several spells that could counter flame magics, as I moved closer to the edge of the tower.  I could see now, inside that flaming pillar floated the fat [Pyromancer] I had met earlier in the day.  His shoulder and chest were gashed open, and flames wreathed around the injuries.  The blood that dripped from his tattered robe caught fire burning out before it even touched the ground.

Still, I waited.  I had tasked Loralie to deal with the mage, and I trusted her to do so.  I also was keeping an eye out for how the other Mirtallean armies would react.  If we saw the flaming pillar, no doubt they did as well.  I couldn’t spend time trapped trading spells with this mage only to allow the barrier to fall to the others.

I didn’t have to wait long.  I could see the witchcraft the moment it  released.  From a window in a far building below, a blue twinkling appeared.

It flashed several times in an array of patterns, before going dark again.  Not a spell that I was familiar with, but I could judge the effects well enough when it hit the pyromancer.  The bleeding wounds on his body covered in ice.  His scream of pain echoed out louder than the roar of his flames, and his arm and shoulder grew fat before exploding.

His fires died out and he began to fall from the sky.  Archers along the tower made shots at him, but the arrows fell short.  I considered intervening again, yet I wasn’t certain if Loralie was done.  A spell like that, to freeze a man’s blood inside his body from that distance, was a powerful working of spellcraft.  I hadn’t seen it in her grimoire when I read it once upon a time, but I had plenty of spells I hadn’t written in mine either.

Before I could see his body hit the ground, a great cascade of fire magic lit up the northern part of the barrier.  In the skies above the wall floated the other Pyromancer, SIlverflame.  She was battering at the barrier with powerful fifth-tier flame spells that caused the dome to shake with each hit.  The army with her approached, but at a defensible speed and positioning.

I scoffed at the woman.  It would take weeks for her to get through at the rate she was going.

Yet, then it occurred to me.

If she was attacking here without hope of bringing down the barrier, then she was trying to draw my attention.  I turned towards the west.  There, my elemental was under attack.  Mirtallean riders were circling my summon at a range the tentacles couldn’t reach, an attempt to draw it away from the wall it guarded.

In the skies above them, I saw the [Grand Magus] in his bearded glory working on a spell of his own.  I recognized this one too, my recent Right of Authority already proving its worth.  He was in the middle stages of casting [Earthquake], though I couldn’t tell if his target was the city or the elemental.

Not that it mattered, either one would have a devastating impact on the battle.  With the counter-spells I prepared, I might not be able to disrupt the magus in the time I needed it to. I released it towards the man in a yell. The enormous bolt of lightning likely wouldn’t harm him through his own wards, but the sheer force of it should cause him to falter in his casting.

The lightning struck.

His wards flashed.  His spell faltered.  From the distance, I couldn’t see his expression, but a backlash of fifth-tier magic would be severe.  To the side, Silverflame paused in her assault.

She didn’t stop for long, though, and soon I could see her working her magics on her own summon.  Could she also bring a fifth-tier elemental to battle?  It was possible, especially so because she specialized.  While her spells couldn’t break my barrier alone, an elemental alongside them could have them down in an hour.

I readied myself again to interrupt her casting, but the [Grand Magus] had already recovered.  I could feel his clumsy attempts to dispel my barrier, though the power he used was shocking.  He held in his hand an artifact as well. It looked like a lantern, though it was something much, much more.  Something that seemed to double the mana he had available.

I couldn’t allow this to continue, caught between the two.  I had my air elementals lift me into the sky, and readied some of my most powerful spells to rain down on the two.  It would drain me and the tower, but stopping them here was important.  I turned towards the pyromancer first.  While the magus could reap lives if he brought the barrier down, it would be nothing compared to what a fifth-tier fire elemental would do.

I stretched out my hand and pointed a finger to cast, but before I did, another spell struck the woman.

A fifth-tier spell in the shape of a flaming blade.  From the top of the wall, above the very gatehouse, Diedre stood proudly.  The blade was swift and powerful, striking the woman across her stomach and cleaving her in half.  The summoning spell fell apart, and I sighed for relief.

With this, I could deal with the [Grand Magus] on my own.  It would have been more taxing to deal with all three, but now I could take my time with the man.  Instead of immediately attacking, I floated over the town towards the western gate.  I stayed inside the barrier and waited for the man to finish his casting.

It took a few minutes, even with the extra mana in his artifact.  An artifact I realized was an enchanted cage built around a repurposed dungeon core.

I hadn’t considered using mine in that fashion, but now that I had seen it, I would be able to replicate the lantern after a little testing.  I should take a different dungeon core for the testing first.

I had enough time to plan out several designs for thefts of cores before he finished.  His finish was a spectacularly powerful spell that cracked the barrier open like an egg and left him breathing heavily in exertion.

I gave him my most patronizing smile, before using my own artifact staff to recast the barrier.  I don’t often enjoy being smug, but the way his face fell after he realized that all his hard work was for naught made it the appropriate moment.

Neither of us acted immediately.  I had seen the fall of two of the three already.  They would have been put to better use against the coming Pestilence, if I had my say in the matter.  Yet I didn’t.

Instead, from where we floated in the sky, we saw the layout of the battle.  Here at the western gate, my elemental was tearing through the army.

None of their weapons or skills doing more than splashing mud.  Belatedly, I realized I had forgotten to give it instructions to capture instead of kill.

On the eastern gate, the army was almost entirely dead.  The few survivors were those that had impaled themselves on stone spikes in a manner that left them alive but unable to move.  That it was my mages had cast it felt distasteful.  The bandits that had been so excited for combat were now mournfully putting to rest those slaves who fell but didn’t die.

On the northern gate, the battle continued, but it was mostly a stalemate.  Here the slave-priests had gathered and were still driving their army forward.  It was doubtful they’d take that gate, but victory was far from assured if they did.

More troops from elsewhere about town were heading there already.

When I looked back to [Grand Magus] Ison, he saw it too.  With pursed lips, he shot out a flare of green illusion magic that lit up the sky.  The sun just now began to peek over the horizon, and below us, soldiers started to call for the retreat.  I gave the man a smile and a hearty laugh as I spoke, “Do you think it will be that easy?”

The preparations for the spell had already been made, the spellcraft waited for only my trigger.  I didn’t move a muscle as I made it.  I didn’t have to.  The effects were clear enough.  Three miles away, the earth cracked.  A great circle formed around the town, and the earth began to lift.

The retreating forces stopped at the edge; a few unlucky soldiers fell into the cracked earth below.  Others panicked and fell to their knees.

The [Grand Mage] turned about as he stared at me and sneered, “All your mana must have gone into that spell.” I could see the spells start to form in his hands, but I simply smiled back.  I was out of mana, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t draw on my tower ring’s power even if he had a spell that could bypass the town’s barrier and my personal wards. 

Yet, then he drew another artifact into his hand.  One with power so immense it frightened me.  It looked to be the shriveled heart of a man staked through by a silver spike.  Holy and Unholy magics intertwined in a way that radiated danger.  I hadn't expected this kind of magic here.  The Sisters of Elora were back on the top of the keep and would offer no protection.  This thing, whatever it did, could pierce through my barrier and wards, of that, I had no doubts.

Yet, one of the newest spells from my Authority would be perfect to combat it.  Sure, I could try other spells I had prepared.  Fifth-tier magics, but I wasn't certain they would work in time. I pulled on the ring's power to fill my own.   I lifted my staff and pointed. I spoke the word of the spell that would stop him.

"[Petrify]!"

Within a heartbeat's time, he had turned to stone.  An unremarkable pale grey stone.  Then he fell, hundreds of feet down.  There, he shattered into pieces, a statue lost. I sighed and shook my head as I looked down at the remains of the former magus.  It had been a long night, and I couldn’t account for everything.  No doubt, the aftermath of the single night would take days.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 45

I set my food down as withheld a sigh at the disturbance.  Of course, I had already seen the armies approaching from atop my elemental. That they were within sight from the city walls already wasn’t news to me. 

It allowed me to finish my meal in peace as the others began to congregate around Count Wilchrest and discuss troop placements in more detail.

I didn’t envy the Count that particular responsibility, but he took to it as if it were expected.  I suspected that the other nobles and leaders were quick to recognize his higher rank in part because of natural charisma, and in part because it was easy to lower their eyes when confronted with his smushed pig-nose.  Still, he made for a striking figure, standing tall and speaking authoritatively. Soon enough, I was called to join them and add my magical opinion to the matter. 

“Savior!” Count Wilchrest’s nearly made me cringe with its volume.  

While, in truth, I would have rather been back at my tower preparing for the real battle, I wasn’t so inattentive to fail to recognize how big a function that magical combat would play in the coming battle.  In fact, I needed it to play a pivotal role so that Mirktal wouldn’t bother this end of the country again.  So with an easy smile, I walked towards their table to discuss my part.  

Which amounted to nearly nothing.  My elemental would defend one gate.  I would put a shield up over the town to prevent magical attacks.  My three apprentices would each lead a cohort of mages to cast the Field of Stone Spikes spell under the direction of whoever was tasked to defend each gate.  I would personally counter any or all of the three fifth-tier mages should they act.  My presence alone should deter them, but who knew if they were slaves themselves?

After reassuring the lot of them, I set about the tasks needed to prepare.  My assistants, along with Loralie and Diedre waited outside the building for me, as well as Tond, Mena, and Meathead.  While I greeted them all, I informed the former guards that they would be serving under Count Wilchrest.  My assistants were all given their instructions as well, that they raced to do as if it were an epic quest.  

It left me alone with Loralie and Diedre as we walked toward where my elemental waited.  The town wasn’t large, but it was large enough that I needed to get closer to it to give it my orders.  Peasants in worn rags, wealthy merchants, and others stepped aside as we walked a part of the way in silence, though Diedre was the first to break the silence.

“Wizard Fargus, will I see my revenge soon?” she asked eagerly.  

Too eagerly it felt to me, but I wasn’t interested in dampening such enthusiasm before a battle. 

It did give me a more opportune moment to ask her a question I had been holding. “Miss Diedre, certainly the entire country isn’t responsible for your pain.  Do you know the name of the person you seek?”

She didn’t answer immediately, rather walking beside me in silence for several moments.  “Yes.  One of the Grand Pyromancers here, a woman who calls herself ‘The Silverflame’.  It's her I want to kill the most.”

That her enemy had a moniker told me that this enemy had no shortage of arrogance. I could see by her clenched jaw and the challenge in her eyes that if my plans didn’t involve the death of the woman, Diedre might lose control that very instant.  Still, it begged another question.

“How do you plan to achieve this goal, if your enemy is also a pyromancer?” I asked.

Diedre looked away and didn’t answer.  I looked to my other side and Loralie just shrugged, her golden hair shifting along her petite shoulders.     When I looked back, I saw that Diedre had the sorrowful, determined eyes of a person that was planning to die.  Was she planning to burn her entire mana for a single spell?  It seemed a likely decision considering her limited options. 

Which would be a waste, in my eyes. 

Not that I would attempt to stop her. 

Instead, I looked forwards and pretended to muse to myself, “When the battle begins, I will be shielding the town.  No doubt someone with the gall to name themselves ‘The Silverflame’ will seek to test my wardings.  If they do, then we all know what a moment’s distraction could cost a mage.  Even a mage at the fifth tier.  If someone were to take advantage of that, though, they would need the correct position and…” I allowed my voice to trail off as I watch Diedre’s eye grow bright and she disappeared into the crowd.  

“Hmmph.  She could have allowed me to finish,” I said.

“The short-lived ones never have the right amount of patience,” Loralie answered me.  

I nodded in agreement. 

“And how will you and the magic-users that report to you contribute to the battle?”  

She chuckled and shook her head, “If you expect less than a dozen unusual classes to make a difference then your eyes see trees taller than they grow.”

I had to tear my gaze away from her eyes in order to keep from getting lost in them.  She still wore the illusion of a short crone, which left the men or women who stood behind her to wonder why I was looking oddly at them.  Their confused looks helped me to pull myself back.  The last time I engaged in romance on the eve of battle had cost me more than it was worth.  It was a lesson well learned.

After a moment, she did answer my question.  “They will be supporting the fighters at the gates and walls.  Magical armors or bear’s strength or healing or a number of other small spells.  Where would you have me, Nemon Fargus?”

I blushed at the innuendo but kept walking for a few moments before answering her.  Now was not the time to play word games.   “The other pyromancer.  Can you keep them occupied?  I would not see Diedre’s vengeance thwarted by ill-timed support.” 

Loralie huffed, “Has she caught your eye then?”

I stopped walking at that moment and turned to look at Loralie, leaving the crowds around us confused as they sought to move out of our way.  Looking directly into the witch’s eye, I answered her in truth. “In the past century, there has been only one woman who caught my eye.”  

Behind Loralie, three human women swooned and a fourth fainted.  Loralie, though, just blushed and looked at her feet.  I waited a full six breaths before I turned and began walking again.

With laughter in my voice, I called out behind me, “And she was a barmaid at the Scholar’s Delight.”

I kept laughing when I heard Loralie’s melodious voice cursing.  She didn’t follow me as I continued toward the gate and my elemental. 

While I wasn’t entirely certain of her reasons for departing, I had hoped that those reasons leaned more in the direction of preparing for the battle than plotting revenge for my joke.  

The guards let me out of the gate with no problems, and soon I stood alone before the massive earth elemental I had summoned and rode.  We looked at each other, as I was planning out how best to communicate my desire to it. 

When the Mirktallean armies attack, I wanted them thoroughly defeated, but that didn’t mean I wanted their slave-soldiers to suffer more than needed.  

An elemental at this level should have access to a variety of its own magics, and it might be able to sink them into the ground so that they were left alive but not able to fight.  This would allow my assistants to use wands and free them after the battle.  The towns and Cities of this duchy were already overflowing with refugees, and I expected other parts of the country were as well. 

I didn’t want to create more of them. 

A freed slave warrior might not be anything more than a refugee, but a company of them might turn into a rebel army to keep Mirktal occupied.  It had happened a few times in the past, after all.  But before I could entirely put together the imagery I thought would convey my intent to the elemental, it contacted me.

Mortal.

“Yes?” I asked. I was uncertain of what it might want, give that none of the earth elementals in the past had ever expressed any desires to me.  If anything, they communicated a resistance to any order that required movements.  

Grasp your Authority.

Take my Authority? 

Did it mean the Rights of Authority that came with my class?  I had waited on taking any action with those because I didn’t have enough information.  If this elemental knew what those were, then I had so, so many questions.

“Tell me, what is a Right of Authority?  What do they mean?  Authority over what?” I began, the questions spilled across my lips as soon as they crossed my mind.

Follow.  

This time the word came with an invitation of some sort.  Unsure of what it meant, but feeling no distrust, I allowed my mind to be pulled by the being into another place.  A long, long hallway made of earth and stone.  Many different types of earth and stone, like striations in a rock, curved in a beautiful pattern, making it feel more like a tunnel than a hallway.  On either side were doors of stone, each with a life-like face carved into it.   

Before me in the hallway, a stone floated in the air.  From it came the mental voice of my elemental.

Follow.  

It began to float down along the corridor, moving ever so slowly.  I walked behind it, though my curiosity burned at each door.  Some of them were cracked open, and I could see light coming from within.  A few were opened completely, and I saw the spellcraft inside, many spellforms more perfect than I could have made myself.  I didn’t stop, but I didn’t need to because the elemental moved at a steady pace.

We walked for what felt like dozens of miles, and never once did my curiosity falter.  Sometimes I could peek through the crack of a door and see a spell that I had only barely learned or touched on.  Other times, the open doors showed me a spell at a level I had mastered and improved upon.  A few times, I thought I recognized a face or two.  Once I saw my face in the open door of a spell I had crafted.  

When we finally reached the end of the hall, there stood a pedestal with a scroll upon it.  The elemental stopped at the entrance, but I knew it waited for me.  I stepped into the room and approached the pedestal with the greatest caution.  

Yet there were no traps, no surprises. 

When I reached the scroll, I opened it with shaking, nervous hands and read the single word the scroll contained. 

But that single word hit my mind so hard I reeled back.  

Earth.

The word echoed around my skull in infinite variations, and the Authority flooded me until all I knew or could see was the stone and sand and earth around me.  Countless different types.   When I returned to myself, I felt the weight of that Authority within me and knew that I could open every single door within this hall eventually.  The Right to Authority didn’t give me authority over anyone. 

It gave me access to every spell of that type ever made or used.  

When I looked back down the hall, the Elemental was nowhere to be seen, but that was acceptable.  It had given me more than I ever could have asked for and hadn’t asked for anything in return.  I knew the way out, and could return here with just a thought. 

Yet I wasn’t ready to leave. 

There was one spell, from a door that had been cracked open, that I felt I needed to open fully.

The morning came quickly after that.  The elemental seemed to understand my desires, and I was happy to explore my new Right of Authority.  That it gave me access to every spell made, and even ones in the process of being crafted was a novelty that I wasn’t ready to fully distract myself with.  Not so close to battle.  Yet, at times of waiting it was easy to slip into and learn. 

With the morning light, though, came news that the enemy had sent a messenger.  They wanted to meet before the battle.  Likely, they planned to intimidate the nobility to see if they could force a surrender, a common tactic for both Mirktal and Sena in these wars. 

I allowed a soldier to guide me back through the town and was soon joined by both Pyl and Loralie. 

It was natural that if the Mirktallean army leadership brought their fifth-tier mages with them, that the Count would want us there as well.   Loralie didn’t speak or look at me as we walked. Pyl seemed as if he wanted to speak more than once as he would open his mouth and then shut it again.  I would have thought Diedre would want a chance to look her nemesis in the eye, but that she kept hidden away also made sense.  

The Northernmost part of Gold Castle was more poorly built than the rest.  Where the southern part of the city contained large warehouses protected by the gateless city wall, and the eastern and western parts were heavy with inns and shops, the northern gate was better defended.  It seemed this wasn’t the first time they had faced Mirktallean raiders, even if this was the largest force intent on raiding them.

Count Wilchrest stood in between Baron Aide and Baron Nix, each walking in step with the other.  Around them, Meathead and Mena were talking with several of the mercenary captains, and a small cavalry was readying themselves on the sides of the wall.  Every single one of us was dressed for battle.  We stood and talked for a few long moments before the gates opened and the cavalry made way to escort us.  

As we walked, servants followed baring finely-carved wooden tables and chairs, food and drink.  I offhandedly noted that a crate of my tea was also being brought, but made no mention of it other than to frown at the unfortunate servant tasked with carrying the box.  Loralie, having noticed my gaze, whispered to me.

“It was Count Wilchrest’s decision to have it served here.  We all know the effects, and none care a wit about feeling less loyal to a King who abandoned us.  There was been talk of crowning you a new king and declaring ourselves free.”

I missed a step as she spoke and my eyes felt as though they were bulging out of my head.  I looked at her to see if I could determine if she was joking, but her expression was entirely serious.  I shook my head in dismay.  The last thing I needed was a civil war to disrupt my studies of the Pestilence.  With my newfound knowledge of Rights of Authority, I had expanded my available geomancy spells ten-fold.  I also had two more Rights that I had yet to choose as well.  

The tables and food were set up in quick order, treasured plates, jeweled goblets, gold-plated forks, and knives all made for a lavish display of wealth.  More food and wine than had been prepared for the feast last evening was laid out in the center of each table while we stood and waited for Mirtallean commanders to arrive and join us.

Several times I had to talk myself out of sitting and nibbling on the food as we waited.  The aroma of cut fruit and cooked meats floated up from the tables, every bit as enticing as I could have wished.  Certainly, it was discourteous to not wait, but they had invaded the country.  I leaned on my artifact staff and sighed in discontent.  It was only because I could distract myself with peeking through doors of Earth spells that I didn’t ignore those around me and enjoy the meal.

The Mirktalleans held no shortage of pomp and formality as they arrived.  First, several musicians walked to us while playing finely crafted instruments with well-honed skills.  Each [Bard] dressed in finely cut red coats over bright white shirts.  Next, a series of dancers hopped and skipped through with trails of twirling silk that flowed on the wind. The dancers’ steps were coordinated with the musicians so that bells braided through hair would chime in time with the song. Then a line of palanquins made of embossed metals and polished woods followed.  The mid-morning sun reflected off different parts of the covered litters in sparkles that caught the eye.  

Soon enough, I found myself seated in between Pyl and Loralie facing the three fifth-tier mages that I had heard so much about.  In the center, the [Grand Magus] sat with a face that seemed molded to show permanent disdain, his braided beard was held firm with sting thin golden chains. With a short black head of hair and green eyes, his features mirrored what I had seen of Mirtallean low nobility. On either side, sat the pyromancers.  One, a woman of sixty with silver hair that seemed to burn under the sun, and the other a rotund man with his red robe open to display a hairy chest.  His body seemed to give off heat, and his head sweated even in the cool morning air.  He had a servant that stood behind him with a large fan, whose sole purpose seemed to be keeping the air moving around him.  

I gave them a nod of greeting, and picked up a honeyed biscuit to nibble on as our Senan servants poured wine and tea.  Loralie followed suit, though Pyl fumbled his wine glass nervously.  I wouldn’t admonish him for it, being a third-tier mage around so many more powerful magic-users.  His presence wasn’t because of his tier, though, but because of his class. 

A necromancer could completely change the course of battles by raising the dead.  Such a feat was easier to do in mass battles, where death mana grew like strangling vines.

“You are the Stormslayer,” The Magus broke the silence and picked up his cup of tea to sip.

“Bah!” I waved a hand. 

“One [Tempest] spell at the right time, and the soldiery takes up a name.  And you are?” I glanced at the man when he didn’t respond and found him staring in fascination at my staff.

“You know it is considered rude to be jealous of another mage’s staff,” I declared with a harrumph.

While every other person at the table paused, and Pyl nearly choked, the man shook his head as if dismissing a thought.

“I am the Grand Magus Ison. Heir of Culinar, Lord of Stricton, and Hand of the King. If only you chose to serve Mirktal, you could be well cared for. Money and power of unlimited amounts.  Women at your beck and call,” he started with the traditional posturing and threats of their country.  It was a rehearsed speech that all Mirktilleans seemed to know.

I waited for him to distract himself before I stuck my fingers into my wine goblet and flicked wine at his face.  It wasn’t magic or an attack.  There was no poison or ill-intent.  So, none of his defense worked to stop the spray of wine from splattering on his face. 

It was a lesson I had learned by being victim to a similar tactic once.

It worked, though, and the man sputtered to a stop.  I took that time to interject my thoughts, “Yes, yes.  You say that the slaver-god is good, and slaves love their lives.  Then I say that he isn’t, and we want to be free, and then we banter back and forth for a few moments uselessly.  It’s a rather futile affair.  Can we discuss something else, perhaps?”

The magus scowled, but before he could speak, the fat pyromancer beside him spoke out angrily, “Twice now you have mocked us.  Do you want us to speak of something else?  How about your terms of surrender?”

I frowned and nodded my head to the nobility who sat at a nearby table.  “That is for them to discuss.  Are we not mages?”

“Some of us are,” the older woman said, though her eyes were on Loralie and not me.  

When I didn’t respond, the other member, the rotund man, spoke.  His voice was a deep baritone with a nasal twinge, “So you want to discuss spellcraft as if we are colleagues.  Fine, we will answer a question for each you answer.” He paused, after he spoke, giving the magus seated beside him a fearful glance that I almost didn’t catch.  

I didn’t care for their internal politics enough to ask about that glance.  Instead, I met the green eyes of Grand Magus Ison, and graced him with a pleasant smile, “Certainly.”

“Then I ask you about your elemental.  What tier is it?  How did you make it?” the fat man leaned forward as he asked me with a victorious smile on his lips.  The woman of their group, the Silverflame, had been using a fork to pick at a piece of fruit, but her fork skipped across the plate betraying her surprise.  

Not that I wasn’t also taken aback by his question.  It was one thing to discuss spellcraft in general, and quite another to ask about a specific spell.  Something that could easily be taken as an insult at worst and tactless at best. 

Still, even if it was deserved, I had been somewhat rude.  These three enemies across from me likely represented the highest tier of Mirktal’s magical forces, and the country had gathered them together to draw me out.  To disrespect an enemy was one thing, to disregard them was another.  

So, in response, I sipped my wine with a polite smile as I considered how I would answer his question before I spoke.  With as pleasant a tone as I could muster, I looked at the bald pyromancer and answered, “It is a fifth-tier elemental supported by fourth-tier elementals for its legs, and more than a hundred first and second-tier elementals for each spike along those legs.  I made it specifically to deter the prospects of attacking, as I have many more important things to do.”  

The three across from me all sat back, their eyes widening.  I wasn’t certain if the reaction was because I had answered the question rudely asked or because they didn’t expect the elemental to be as powerful as I claimed, but in my mind, it made no difference.  It wasn’t as if any of them could replicate the feat even if I guided them through the process.

It also set them off-balance for me to ask the question on my mind, “Now, I expect an equitable response from you.” I paused as Loralie grasped my elbow from under the table, as if in warning.  I wasn’t certain why, but when she didn’t give any other signal of her intentions, I continued, “What is your country doing to prepare for the coming End of the Age?”  

Both [Pyromancers] looked at me in confusion, but the [Grand Magus] stiffened in response.  He let out a small breath before speaking, “Why ask a question you already know the answer to, Stormslayer?  It is the very reason we meet you today.  Our kings have agreed to this war so that our warriors could level to fight off the threat.”  He paused, as if searching for correct words, before continuing, “Or is this a proposal I am misunderstanding?  We already saw your spellcraft lifting our cities onto plateaus. Quite inspiring. I thought you were cutting off our supply routes, but you could have accomplished that and more with the magic you used.”

I tapped my fingers on the table in agitation but didn’t immediately answer him.  A war to level the armies?  It might make sense if the foe had numbers that could be fought against, but that wasn’t the case.   If leveling the armies was the pretext for this war, then why would Mirktal sack Laxton Bay? If the King thought the threat I foretold was real, then why call me to war?  Things weren’t adding up. While I wanted to consider the matter further, now wasn’t the time.  I returned my mind to the topic at hand, and answered the man, “Is that the question you wish me to answer?”

The grand magus’s lips twisted as if he wanted to curse, but he didn’t.  He shook his head no.  “I would like to know about the staff you brought with you.  That is my question.” He asked, his eyes darting to my artifact once again.  I could see the man struggle to contain a look I would have called greed bordering on obsession.  

“Ah,” I answered with a smile, “But I have nothing further to ask of you.”  

This time, the man did sputter a curse, as my words struck home.  It was fun sometimes to play such games.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 44

For two days we traveled unimpeded.  I sat atop my elemental as it crashed through trees and rocks with equal nonchalance. 

There were several traps, from pitfalls to magical wards, that were set off by its movement, but none of them caused it to slow let alone be damaged.  

From my perch, I used air elementals to monitor the surroundings.  A few miles to either side of the army train scouts from both sides engaged in quick and deadly skirmishes.  When I could, I used an air elemental to shake branches or bushes to alert our scouts to hidden enemies.  In one instance, I had found one of the enemy’s slave-priests, and didn’t hesitate to have them lift the woman and drop her from high in the air.  

We had camped the night tonight, and I could see the walls of Gold Castle when standing atop my elemental. 

The army moved slower, but we would be there sometime in the afternoon tomorrow.  The campsite tonight was little more than the road we stopped on, but my assistants had placed my pavilion near the front of the train. Around it, other mages placed their tents in what some might call a circular manner.  If they were blind.  

As had been the case for the previous night, Jax and Philipe had prepared a stone table and benches for the evening meal.  The fare was decent for army food, and my stationed allowed me and the others to dine on roast pheasant and potatoes instead of the gruel the standard soldiers ate. 

Seated around the table were all three of my assistants, the [Witch] Loralie, the [Pyromancer] Diedre. Mena and Meathead also joined us at my request, as I had a plan for the evening conversation and wasn’t certain how it would go.

The meal began normally, with the various pleasantries and small talk that accompanied such events, but it was only partway through the meal that I drew everyone’s attention.  

“Miss Diedre, I fear that I have not done right by you,” I began.  The words weren’t spoken loudly, but they did have the effect of silencing all but Meathead’s loud chewing.  I then went on to explain the effects of the Asrid Flower Tea, and how she had been unknowingly been subject to those effects the last several meals.  I could have kept silent, but knowing I subjected her to the same thing I was subjected to made my stomach churn at night.   

When I stopped talking and looked at the woman, I had been expecting anger and outrage at my deception. 

I’d even prepared defensive measures for the others should she grow violent.  Instead, she thumped her hand on the table several times and burst with uproarious laughter.  The reaction wasn’t anywhere close to what I expected and she was wiping tears away before she finished laughing.

“Wizard Fargus,” she began with the first honest smile I’d seen on the woman.  “Your price is loyalty for what I want?” She shook her head and her smile grew to a more malicious grin. “I simply want to kill Mirktalleans.  I would pledge you any oath, give you my body for pleasure, sell my very soul for the vengeance I seek.  Loyalty? Dead Seagods, that is the least you could ask of me.”

I tapped my fingers on the table as I considered her words.  The others around me all remained silent as they too processed everything that had been said, from the tea to her vulgar offer.   All except one man.

“True,” Meathead chimed in. 

His enormous bulk was slouched over the table as he picked up the pheasant so he could eat more quickly using his hands. 

He hadn’t changed much over his journey, I could see.

I glanced around the table, but none of the others seemed to be prepared to respond.  When my eyes returned to meet Diedre’s gaze, I could see by the intensity in her eyes that she was willing to challenge me or anyone else for this opportunity.   Or perhaps, that intensity was madness.  Sometimes, it was difficult to tell.  

“I see,” I said, and went back to eating.  It was a subdued experience after that.  

Gold Castle was an ostentatious name for a rather normal town.  Stone walls circled it at twice the height of a man with a covered wooden walk build atop.  A small keep, the size of a large inn at most, stood in the center of the town.  It stood out among the other buildings mostly because it was painted bright orange.  The color did make me wonder if the color was the reason for the town’s name or the town’s name the reason for the color.

The afternoon sun beat down on my brow by the time I made it to the town’s gates.  Behind me, the mages and soldiers seemed to walk a bit faster now that they had a destination in sight.  The townsfolk crowded the guards along the wall as they cheered our arrival with happy hoots and loud whistles.  I took in the sight of the over-crowded wall, and the overcrowded town behind it from atop my elemental for a moment, and then flew down to stand in front of the gates. 

There, I was joined by Count Wilchrest and a serious-looking Baroness Nix.

The Count looked resplendent in his shining armor, but the Baroness still wore her adventurer’s garb, setting them both in contract to one another.  I hadn’t changed the feathered robe I left the tower in, keeping only to cleaning spells so that the mages in the army that didn’t recognize me by my face would recognize me by my robe.  

The heavy wooden gates before us weren’t made from processed lumber.  Instead, I could tell by the bark that still covered the trunks, that they were recently cut from the nearby forest.  The three of us didn’t wait long for the gates to open, and several nobles greeted us.  There were guards surrounded them and keeping the excited crowd away.  

A proud and well-dressed man that had similar facial features to my seneschal was the first to step out of the town.  Following him were a woman that appeared to be his wife, another that looked to be his mother, and five children of various ages.  They weren’t all.  There were guards among this family as well as several well-dressed or armored men that were likely either smaller noble houses or officers of some kind.

The introductions were made swiftly, as the air had grown uncomfortable hot, and the forces of our army were invited inside to camp on the streets even the largest warehouse in town was bursting with refugees.  The three of us, however, were led through the town to the keep, and inside to a dining hall where a feast had been prepared in honor of our fortuitous arrival. 

The feast hall was a long room with three large circular tables filled with food.  The walls were the same stone as the rest of the keep but painted a light blue color.  Portraits and banners hung on these walls, though they were more scenic paintings that demonstrated the Aide’s wealth than remembrances of lost family.  A huge hearth was built into the far wall, and I could smell servants roasting cuts of meats and baking loaves of bread.

Most of the nobility crowded around the table furthest from the hearth, no doubt wishing to forget the heat of the day.  I didn’t even bother to feign interest in the matters of state they discussed, once Baron Aide recognized Count Wilchrest’s claim to title and governance.  Or, in particular, his mother dud.  The crone seemed to be the true head of the family, for all her age had left her back hunched.  Instead, I partook of the local wines and cheeses at the second table, trying to keep solace to myself.

 The roasted goat was particularly flavorful, and I passed the time nodding as what I had thought were smaller nobility introduced themselves to me.  Yet, instead of being smaller nobility, they were the heads of four different mercenary companies hired for the town's defense.  

Two companies of archers each represented by a different brother, a company of spearman led by the shortest man I had ever met, and a cadre of mages that I wouldn’t allow to learn at the Arcanum all came to me one after the other to interrupt my self-imposed distance.  Some local merchant who was appointed head of a large amount of barely armed conscripted townsfolk and refugees also begged for supplies.  

I found it too tedious to remember their names, and simply mumbled when they sought answers from me. 

Not that they asked many questions in their misdirected competition to impress me.  Each of the four was eager to tell me of their company’s exploits. 

They spoke over, under, and around each other in attempts to regale me, and I was almost to the point of silencing them all with magic when a sweaty runner burst into the feast hall to interrupt us all with news.  

The Mirtallean armies could be seen on the horizon and were converging on the town.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 43

The spell [Earth Fist] was a third-tier geomancy spell.  Fourth-tier if using two.  As unimaginative as most humans' spell names, it created a fist-shaped stone the height of a man and sent it careening towards the designated target.  I didn’t use this spell, though I certainly wanted to.  

Instead, I used [Earth Manipulation] to mimic the spell's shape and entrap Deidre the annoyance.  One of the benefits of [Earth Manipulation] used at my level of expertise is that it only takes concentration and mana, without any gestures or words.  A benefit that left the pyromancer surprised at her sudden entrapment.  With her hands trapped at her sides, and only her head free, she shrieked in surprise.  

I began to speak as I withdrew a spare mana crystal from my bag of holding, “I have heard you.  Your words might have had some merit had we been debating this in the confines of a lecture hall if you had spoken them respectfully.”  The mana crystal glowed with a steady light that was almost as bright as the torch behind me.  With a thought, I snuffed the torch’s fire.  It wouldn’t do for the woman to have ideas of freeing herself from her confines only to cook herself in an oven.  

“Yet you did not.  Nor did you seek me out to discuss this privately,” I began to form an attached from the stone fist to the mana crystal, one that allowed the fist to retain shape based on a power source outside my own. 

“Instead, you announced for all to hear a direct challenge to authority in an army.  How would your superiors in the mage corps respond?” I asked as I looked up from the crystal to her eyes.  She stopped her struggling inside the stone fist and scowled at me. 

She also refused to answer.

After a moment, I turned from her to address the others in the crowd, “For those of you unaware, the standard response to insubordination in Sena’s mage corps is the loss of a body part.  A finger, or ear.  Maybe an eye.”  I could see that many in the crowd didn’t appreciate the idea of losing a part of themselves, some on the verge of decrying such a punishment.

“But!” I called, and began casting another spell on my prisoner, a mana sensing one that would tighten the grip of the stone fist should she attempt to cast a spell, “But we are not in the mage corps, and I would not enjoy seeing any of you marred in such a fashion.  Miss Diedre Firefist will need to endure her present circumstances for the evening and speak with me on the morrow. I trust that none—”

“No!  You can’t do this!  I’m a fourth-tier mage!” she cried in interruption.  

I frowned and cast the same spell I had constructed for Chelsea’s irritating talk, the one that silenced her words.  Then I continued, “I trust that none of you will act in any similar manner.”

I stopped in my speech there, feeling as I had already talked too much.  These were mages, after all.  They should be carrying themselves with a degree of decorum that would make regular soldiers jealous of their dignity.  Without further consideration to those outside my tent, I entered.  It had been a tedious evening already, and I wanted to attain a measure of sleep before the sun rose.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get the immediate opportunity as I heard the tent flap swish an extra time behind me.  When I turned, I found Loralie standing at the entrance.  I tilted my head and nodded a greeting to her, but she simply looked at me for a moment before seeming to make up her mind.

“Mr. Fargus, why did you place me over the other spellcasters?” she asked in a tone I couldn’t quite place.  I would have labeled it simple curiosity had it come from anyone other than her.

“I placed you there because I believe you to be the most competent,” I answered firmly.  If she didn’t prove competent at more than four hundred years old, then my opinion of the woman would fall drastically.  

“It had nothing to do with surprising me so that I would come to your tent all alone?” she asked, this time her tone made her insinuation very clear. “What will people say if we spoke here uninterrupted for hours?” she raised a brow.

While I had in the past engaged in much witty wordplay with an assortment of women, it had been nearly a hundred years or more since I actively engaged in the verbal game.  I was still slightly embarrassed by how I conversed when we first met.  Sometimes my experience in the matter, though, gave me an instinctual need to react, and before I could stop myself, I returned her poke with one of my own.

“I suppose what other people will say is entirely dependent on if you remove your illusion or not,” I didn’t smile or cringe, but retained a very neutral expression between when she entered and now.  It was a difficult task, even as I succeeded.  

Her eyelids closed to leave little slits, as if she had grown suspicious of me.  Her words were barely more than a whisper, just enough for my half-elven ears to pick up, “I see.  How you do so twist my heart, Nemon Fargus.”

She turned and left, leaving me feeling a bit out of sorts.  I didn’t want to lead the woman on.  I had no intention of forming a relationship with her beyond that of professional colleagues.  I also feared that she had misinterpreted me on purpose as a reason to continue playing whatever game she was playing.  I stood there in the dark for several moments trying to think of the best way forward with the woman, but eventually gave up the train of thought.  Tomorrow would be a new day, and with it, perhaps some clarity.  

The morning didn’t actually provide any additional clarity with regards to Loralie.  It did present me with an opportunity, though.  I had yet to fully investigate the effects of using different versions of the tea on humans.  I brought the tea along not for use with my army, but in hopes that I could find a way to allow the Mirktallean forces to capture it.  While I didn’t imagine that it would affect the slaves’ behavior much, I also didn’t expect the slavers over them to share anything beyond gruel.  

It was a warm early morning before the sun had risen, one that promised a hot summer day to follow. Yet, that didn’t mean the army slept.  Most had woken up early to pack their gear and take down their tents in expectations of today’s march.  I wouldn’t be far behind them, but had to deal with the matter of the [Pyromancer] first.   Diedre had picked herself up from the ground after I released her, and walked inside behind me in stunned silence.  

Most of the furniture had already been packed away and loaded by my assistants, leaving only a stone table and two stone stools that I had created a few minutes ago.  On that table waited two wooden cups, one filled with steaming tea and the other with apple wine.  Beside each cup was a small plate with a slice of hard bread.  In the center of the table, a metal teapot rested. 

I sat on the stool next to the apple wine, chosen because its color was the closest match to that of the Asrid Flower tea, and gestured for the woman to join me.

Her legs had been trembling greatly as she walked, and she plopped down on the stone stool with a relieved groan. 

Her eyes were darkened, and cheeks puffed.

“I take it that you aren’t in service to the Tervan’s.  Let me hear you curse at the Slaver god.” I began the conversation with a bit of misdirection.  I highly doubted the woman was a Mirtallean spy.  Likely she was in service to the Senan King.  I could sense the magic of older Asrid Flower tea moving about inside her. 

Her response was a litany of heresy against the Slavery god so great that my ears burned at the thought of a woman saying some of those foul words.   She stopped a few minutes in with a bout of coughing and patting her chest.  I simply gestured at the tea, which was a little cooler now, and watched as she drank the cup dry in great gulps. When she finished, she opened her mouth in a snarl that I knew meant she was prepared to continue, but I held up my hand.

“It is clear you hold no admiration for Mirktal,” I spoke softly and calmly, to set the tone for the rest of the conversation.

Diedre lifted the corner of her lip in a sneer.  Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, “Of course not!  Those bastards killed my husband.  I came here because I couldn’t stop killing them and figured you of all people would understand.  To hear you speak of Pestilence is an insult to his memory.”

I hadn’t suspected that her motive was personal.  Nor that she would have left the mage corps for a lack of enemies.  It came as a surprise, but I hid it under the guise of sipping my wine as I thought about it.  Now, I felt guilty at testing the tea upon the woman.  It was clear that she was still suffering greatly, and I suspected the calming effects of the tea would likely only postpone her anger until she no longer drank it.  

Yet, when I set my cup back down, I poured refilled hers.  The experiment had already started, and it would do neither of us any good to stop it now.  I stuffed away whatever guilt I felt by doing it with the lies that the calming effects were needed.  That I had to see the reaction to gauge if I could use it to turn the King’s men against him.  

“Tell me then,” I began again, this time with a conciliatory tone.  “Are you here to seek your death?”

“No.” She lied.  She didn’t meet my eyes, and immediately drank more of the tea.  

As I watched, the effects of my tea overwhelmed what was already in her body.  She, a fourth-tier mage sensitive to her internal mana, didn’t appear to notice the little turmoil between the two so I doubted anyone else could.  I nodded, “We will arrive at Goldseat in three days or less.  By then, I expect you to know if you will be fighting in the vanguard or the mage corps.”  I stood, a signal of her dismissal, but she didn’t move or speak.

Instead, she fidgeted with her cup tilting it around and around.  “Wizard Fargus,” she said with an agitated tone.  “How am I to march after standing all night with no sleep?”

Her question confused me and I couldn’t help but frown.  How was this my concern?  As far as I considered the matter, she had brought it on herself.  To have her march with no sleep and sore legs was just an additional punishment.  I almost said as much but decided a more tactful response would be better.

“Why not ask a [Wagoneer] to sit in their wagon?”

She looked up at me with a vicious smile, “And tell them what?  That I am too weak to walk because I was held in your hand all night and didn’t sleep?”

I stiffened, having not expected that.  I should have though.  She was a pyromancer for a reason, after all.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 42

Hi!  Thanks for being patient during the bit of randomness the last few weeks!  I will be working to try to return to my previous 5 chapter/week posting schedule.  

The room had grown silent, with few even daring to move at Count Wilchrest’s declaration.  I felt their eyes watching me intently to gauge my reaction, a familiar feeling.   My first thought upon hearing that there were three fifth-tier mages arrayed against us, or me rather, was disappointment and eagerness.  Disappointment because I might need to remove three knowledgeable mages before I could discuss magics with them.  Eagerness because as long as I could obtain their magical signatures, I would be able to track their vaults and libraries to add to my own.  

That wasn’t what the people around me wanted, though.  They wanted reassurance that I would be able to counter such powerful magic-users. 

That, for me, was easy enough to provide.

“Bah!” I waved my hand as if swatting a fly. “Let me worry about them, then.”

“How?” Came a woman’s voice near the back.  Dressed in adventurer’s gear, she had dark wiry hair that peaked out from underneath a leather spiked helm.  I noted her appearance for later, as she might be a Mirktillean spy trying to draw out knowledge of their enemies.  I certainly wasn’t about to answer the question on the chance that could be the case.

“Well, I plan to seduce them with my dashing looks, my dear,” I answered with a wink.  I still hadn’t donned my illusion again.  It was past the time when I sought to be underestimated by enemies under the guise of frailty.  

She blushed in response and then backed away, to the amusement of many, but my remark was enough to relieve their worries. Soon the planning was back to the movement of forces and soldiery.  Three armies were arrayed against us, each led by Mirktillean nobility.   The armies were mostly constituted by slave-soldiers, warriors, and archers without fear. A smattering of random military units dotted the area around the main army, scouts, and calvary units whose purpose was to find and enslave any that escaped the battles.  

The military forces from the Kingdom of Sena had retreated East towards Freetoni, leaving only the duchy’s beleaguered soldiery behind.   Those forces were all defending the town of Gold Castle, the seat for Baron Aide’s domain.  The Barony of Nix was already lost, and her forces had joined with his, though they had no defense against Mirktal’s mages.  The only reason the town still stood was that the armies hadn’t arrived to siege it yet as they were busy plundering the mines and lands around the town.

I stayed silent as the military minds debated and argued.  Most of the discussion on the array of forces for the coming battle I was already aware of thanks to the use of my air elementals the day before.   It allowed me to gauge who among the army’s leaders had the degree of intelligence needed to truly consider strategy and who would be best leading a vanguard.  

We ended the council with an agreement that we would travel north.  My elemental would lead the front of the army, clearing away trees and springing any traps or ambushes set by enemy scouts.  The mages that could, would travel behind it to smooth the trail of destruction it left into a serviceable road.  While it might give the enemy a quicker means to strike south should they prove victorious in the coming battles, it would turn a two-week journey into one of several days.  That it would also leave a path for reinforcements to follow should they be needed was left unspoken.

When I departed the inn, I met with my assistants in a pavilion they had set up for me.  A large bright yellow tent with all the amenities that I could wish for beyond my own bed.  The two-story tent also made a statement among all the other parts of the army, a declaration that I was with them.  Outside, Leslie had gathered all the magic-users from across the various parts of the army and was discussing the spells held within the tome I tasked her to distribute.  

I found it quite endearing her diligence on the task, and was able to watch quietly for a few moments before being noticed.  

“Master!” Jax and Philipe both called out at the same time with low bows.  I suspected they may have practiced that, but it did work well.

“Good evening,” I answered with a smile, as Leslie broke away from her discussion to greet me as well.

“Master, we have seventy-four magic users available.  Most are tier-two mages.  We had two dozen more at Lark, but many weren’t willing to risk their lives.  Some of the adventurers aren’t willing to leave their teams, either, or we could have more than a hundred.” She reported to me the numbers as if it were a personal failing of hers that they weren’t higher.

I patted her shoulder and commended her, though, “You did well.  This is more than enough.  Have those with [Earth Manipulation] prepared for tomorrow.  They will smooth the path for the army.  All others should practice joint casting.  The Giant Earth Spike Field may be above their skill level, but jointly casting should put it within reach.”

“Master, I’m not sure that…” Leslie began, pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.  Both Philipe and Jax also looked away.   I started to take in the mages in more detail and realized that while the group she had been speaking with before was large, they were mostly second-tier.  To the side stood a group of seven third-tier mages listening intently to an older fourth-tier woman.  

There was another group, further away with Loralie, Pyl, and all the non-standard magic-users.  They were an odd assortment of men and women, many of which stood with hunches or furtive glances around them as if they were being hunted.  

“I see,” I answered, and walked forward to the center of all three groups.  It also coincided with the entrance to my pavilion, a single tall torch set in the middle-beaten ground lighting the whole area.  There, I tapped my artifact staff on the ground, and cast a small light spell that flashed to grab the attention of all.  

“Good evening,” I said for the second time in a handful of minutes.  This time I said it as a call for attention.  A greeting that drew the eye.  Then I began speaking, a recital of the beginning children’s story from a hundred and fifty years ago.  Those who would know my reference would likely get the subtle humor of a tale of vampire mages that awoke once every twelve years to feast on the blood of misbehaving children. 

“I call to order, on this auspicious night where the stars align just right to guide us on the morrow.  I call to order, this warm eve’s conclave, this joining of the knaves, to speak of future sorrow. Grant me your ears, so that you may hear, your instructions to follow.”

I gave the crowd a confident smile as I looked around, noting only Loralie had covered her mouth as she snickered.  None of the others seemed to have placed the quote, and while I had thought it would be amusing at first, it left me feeling disappointed afterward.  

With my head held high, I spoke clearly to all, “I shall begin with a request.  Those of you who are mages, I ask of you to follow my assistant Leslie’s instructions for the tasks ahead.  We have little time.  I, for one, don’t imagine myself being happy in chains.  Those of you of a different class, I ask that you work with Loralie,” I gestured at the surprised woman.  She contained her surprise well, but I saw she wasn’t happy with the responsibility.  Yet, I found myself uncaring.  This was war, and I intended to grant positions of authority to the most competent.  

“Wizard Fargus,” the fourth-tier woman, a [High Pyromancer] called out to me.  She had short blond hair, with streaks of brown.  Her face led me to believe she was in her thirties, though the way she held herself indicated she likely served once in Sena’s mage corps. 

“Yes?” I answered her with a polite smile.  

“My name is Deidre. 

The army called me Deidre Firefist. 

I’ve led mage cadres before, and have more experience than this girl,” she spoke proudly, yet her tone made a great shift one the word girl that left no one in doubt that she meant it as an insult. 

Her stance was one of challenge as well, with her shoulders thrown back and her chin held high.

While one part of me was thrilled that I had another military-trained mage in the group, another wanted to throttle the woman for questioning my decision publicly.  That she used her military nickname as a declaration of pride was ridiculous.  Every mage was named by their peers in the corps, it was a tradition.  Although, that may have changed in the last hundred years in ways I was unaware of.  

I answered her calmly, “You wish to lead joint casting of earth-element spells?”

Her stance shifted, and her eyes took on a confused look.  “No, I—No. My specialty is fire spellcraft.  I would think that pyromancy would be more useful—”

I interjected before she could go further, letting my annoyance shade the tone of my voice, “Deirdre Firefist, I have no doubt as to your competence with pyromancy.  That is not in question.  Nor your ability to lead.   I have not requested you lead these mages for a simple reason.  The coming battle with Mirtal is but a training exercise to prepare you for the enemy to come.”

The woman then chose to scoff at my words.  A scoff! 

At me!  “This Pestilence you talk of?  You ruined your whole reputation with that nonsense!  A celebrated hero to a joke among our kind.  They even took down your picture in the training hall.”

She said all this with a sneer on her face, and spoke the words as if she believed them to be magic missiles sent to flight.  She even had the gall to spread her hands and jeer as soon as she was done.  If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed she had just challenged me to some battle of insults. Had she challenged an officer above her in the mage corps thusly, she would likely have had an ear or finger removed. 

However, I couldn’t do that here.  These mages were not military trained, but volunteers.  Some of them hadn’t ever seen combat before, let alone a battle.  I stared at the woman as I thought, trying to ascertain her motives.  Was she truly the belligerently ambitious pyromancer she made herself out to be?  Or was a spy from the King sent to undermine me?  An agent of Mirktal sent to sow discord in our numbers?

Yet, as I stared, I grew angrier and angrier.  Who was this woman to question me?  She thought her fourth-tier class made her invaluable?  Did she think to press her way into a more advantageous position?  Whether by arrogance or deceit she had pushed me too far.  

Yet, just as I couldn't refuse to respond to this woman, I also could not show my full power for fear of spies reporting it back to Mirktal.  It was good, then, that putting her in her place wouldn't take much power at all.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 41

The preparations for my departure from my tower to meet with the army were well underway.  My assistants energetically ran to complete the tasks I set out for them.  More time to prepare would have been better, yet that always seemed the case for battle. 

I could only do so much.  I had crates of bread that Chelsea had spent yesterday, last night, and this morning to bake being loaded up into the wagons first.   

Crates of my version of the Asrid Flower tea had already been loaded throughout the evening.  The mushroom men, at Jax’s direction, had taken to drying the leaves of the flowers atop the dungeon core.   This not only dried them faster than hanging but also infused them with mana making them thrice as potent.  While I hadn’t tested the reactions among humans yet, it worked wonderfully on the rodents and wolves I tested it on.  The normal tea leaves I obtained from the Scouts could potentially overpower mine, if given later and in a higher dose.  Otherwise, as long as my tea was imbibed later, it would overtake the effects.

This morning, I turned down the men and women from Kine’s village that sought to join me in battle. 

Not only were they untrained, but I preferred that they care for the orphans.  The nuns, though, I sought out two of them to accompany me.  I intended that they would serve as my defense against any religious magics during the battle and act as healers afterward.  

My former guard, Tond, requested to join me for this battle, claiming with pride that it would be his ‘last act of service’, and I accepted under the condition that he would serve as a personal bodyguard, even if such were unneeded.  It wasn’t that I didn’t think him capable, far from it.  It was that I had no desire to listen to Chelsea blather on about the man for the rest of her life should he fall.  

I was joined by a nascent magical cadre in the form of my three assistants, and most of the local magic users.  Rhela the Red deigned to stay behind with her new position, as well as the man who carved totems.  I doubt I could keep Pyl the Necromancer away from the opportunity to see how death mana formed on recent battlefields, the man practically dancing to himself with his excitement.  

For my own personal attire and weaponry, I chose an elegant robe made from the leathers of a wyvern. 

The tailor had left the large, blue feathers on the shoulders and upper back. I’d gone further to enchant the robe with a quite obscene number of magical protections. Wach feather would not only nullify a specific type of spell but also absorb a fraction of it to grow its own framework. No traditional magics below the fourth tier could harm me.  I’d patterned it after the internal matrixes of mana crystals, with some very specific variations.  

In my hand, I held the Staff of Umin-Lile, an artifact I’d found as an adventurer after defeating the fifth-tier beast at the end of a dungeon.  While I may have been able to craft something more powerful if I gave over twenty years to the task, whatever I crafted wouldn’t have the sheer fame associated with the artifact.  The staff was made from the bone of some creature, with a dark red mana-crystal at the top.  The enchantment in it was a simple, yet powerful magical shield.  A fifth-tier shield spell that could cover an entire army.

It was in this manner, standing proudly atop my newest summoned elemental, that we traveled towards Woodhoot.   One of the unfortunate things I had failed to consider when designing the elemental was the damage its spiked tentacles would do to the road.  It left me traveling to the side of my caravan rather than at the fore or rear of it.   

It was afternoon when we arrived at Woodhoot, and I contained my smile as I watched the soldiers and mages gaze up at the powerful beast I rode.  While I’m not certain morale was a problem before our arrival, the delivery of a massive amount of freshly baked loaves of bread and a beast that towered among trees certainly didn’t hurt if their cheering was any indication.  

The forces I could see below as I flew down to the army were varied.  Many of the townsfolk that joined from Lark had been formed into their own unit, and I could see them as they trained in formation with cheap spears under the guidance of mercenaries.  The adventurers kept to themselves, all in a disarrayed mix of classes, but did set their tents in some semblance of lines.  

The main soldiery of house Shielding was situated in the center of the camp, with tents circling around the inn so that it was clear it served as the command center.  They dutifully marched in patrols through and around camp, and clearly took great pride in their uniforms and discipline. 

Not that I blamed them, the Shielding soldiers were well trained, and looked to be well experienced as well. 

The six guards outside the inn bowed low in greeting and stood opened the door for me, indicating I was expected.

I joined the newly raised Count Wilchrest and his command staff in the inn called Walker’s Rest.  I was relieved that Lilly hadn’t pushed to join me because the very name of the Inn left me in a foul mood.  That she may have stopped here on her trip to my tower and already gone through the same inner turmoil I felt only made me feel worse. 

The Count performed admirably in imposing a commanding and authoritative presence.  His polished armor and oiled hair showed he was well-disciplined.  The way he carried himself and gave orders with the expectation that they be followed without doubt or question lifted him a step above several other officers I had worked with before.  

The inn itself hadn’t changed much in appearance, but felt entirely different as it functioned as a command post for the surrounding soldiery.  Two of the long tables had been pushed together to support a map of the area, with different wooden tokens denoting the forces arrayed in the area. 

It only took a moment to note that it was the same map I had seen in the Scout’s headquarters, and how it came to be here wasn’t a question I was willing to ask for fear the answer might implicate me in some crime I wasn’t a party in committing.

Beside Count Wilchrest was a dangerous-looking woman that I belatedly recognized as Baroness Nix. 

Gone was the courtly attire, replaced with well-worn enchanted leather armor.  In fact, as I looked closer, she was wearing a great number of enchanted items that displayed the truth of her history in adventuring.  Rings of protection, a belt for agility, a thin sword that induced bleeding were only a few of the items.  The scuffs and scratches on her seemed fresh, and one of her hands was bandaged, both marking recent combat. 

On the other side of the man and across the table were many of the different officers and important figures from the various collected parts of the army.  This included both Mena and Meathead, and I did not intend to stop the conversation with my entrance, that’s exactly what Meathead’s boisterous greeting did.

“Hiya second boss!” the man called from the center of the room much more loudly than was needed. He followed the greeting with quick waves of both hands that knocked some of the surrounding men aside.  

I nodded my head once to return the greeting, and then again to Mena before looking towards the Count. 

Count Wilchrest gave a formal bow, a greeting for equals, before speaking, “Savior, it is good of you to join us.  We have some unfortunate news you should hear.”

His words were spoken with a grave face, and I could tell by the looks of the others in the room that I might not like what he was about to say.  Many of those faces also held fearful or nervous expressions, so I suspected that his bringing the matter up as soon as I arrived was purposeful.  

“Oh?” I asked as I nodded a greeting to Baroness Nix and a few others before walking across the room to stand before the map.  The officers and others in the room were quick and polite as they shuffled to make room for me to get there. “What news?”

The Count had a tight smile on his face that he held for just a moment before speaking, “The enemy forces we face,” He paused to make a displeased face, “With them are three fifth-tier mages.”

Interlude - King Sena

“You, my son, have demonstrated the intelligence of a chicken.  Pecking away at seed on the ground when a fox is in the henhouse,” my father started into me with an anger I hadn’t seen more than once a year before his mind broke.  His royal brow furrowed, and the regal hairs that crept up to the middle of his forehead only further demonstrated his ire carried on waves of creases.

“Leave us,” I commanded. 

The silent guards and servants all rushed to comply, ignoring my father’s harsh words as he continued to berate me. I only partially listened, myself.  He would return to himself when he ran out of breath and calmed.  Instead, I looked out the window of the tower, gazing across the expanse of sky, though I didn’t approach.  He’d already pushed two women and a guard out of that window during his bouts, I wasn’t willing to be the son he murdered as well just to get a view of my city below.

“You have doomed us! Doomed us all!  I knew your sister would have made a better queen, but you went and killed her! M-my daughter,” He slowed his speech and gazed at his two hands, lost in contemplation of his love for the dead harlot.  

I crossed my arms and waited.  My patience was had already been worn thin by the simpering of noble men and women who supported the kingdom.  It didn’t take long before my father blinked his eyes and looked around with a renewed dawning of comprehension.  

“My apologies, son. King.  I don’t know what came over me,” he muttered.  Spit and blood stained his chin and robes, it felt each fit was worse than the last.  

I could tell him.  I had before, reveling in the shame and guilt as vengeance for the unwarranted spite he inflicted on me, but I didn’t have time for that any longer.

“Father, I need your guidance,” I began.

“Of course, of course.” He said though he didn’t meet my eyes.  Instead, he straightened and smoothed the silk sheets and blankets that he had slung around in his recent fit.

“The wizard.  He took the duchess’s offer and now heads to war against Mirktal,” I said in as calm a voice as I could manage.

My father looked up at me sharply, his hands still stopped.  I could see the thoughts turning in his head at my words, the reflection of candles flames seemed to pale in comparison to his eye’s brightness.

“That is odd.  If he didn’t swear to Mirktal, then where does his allegiance lie?  Not Tervan, they wouldn’t have him.  The Tea’s chains must lead somewhere,” I listened to my father as he spoke.  He didn’t always think aloud but had given over to the habit so that his thoughts could be written down and finished later if interrupted by a bout of madness.  

“If he heads to war, the assassin failed.  Though, it wasn’t ever a certainty,” the former king kept talking.

I interjected, providing more in case it might prove to be the missing piece of the puzzle, “His disciples are all accounted for.  Alred too far away to matter.  Thuril was killed in a dungeon.  Nire committed suicide before we could get to her.  Walker was killed by the Mirktals.  Kine is watched closely.  The girl retreated to the tower.  If he had found a way to counter the effects of the tea, we’ve stopped his plans.”

My father followed along, nodding his head slowly, “You think the elves plot?”

I shook my head, “All spies report the six enclaves have retreated through some portal.  Abandoned their homes.”

“Not elves.  Not dwarves, either then.  None of the five kingdoms.  You swear you felt tea inside him still?” he asked, though it was rhetorical.

I nodded and watched one of the greatest minds in the world work through the problem.

“His ridiculous demands for couches.  His blatant embarrassment of the Laxtoni’s.  Why would he seek to weaken that duchy further?”  the king asked himself, though I think the both of us arrived at the answer at the same time.  There was only one power left, though we dreaded to even consider it.  That the wizard would align himself with the Seafolk would be a thing of night-terrors.

“Father, he couldn’t have…” I trailed off, afraid to even speak my fears aloud.

 My father shook his head, “We can only prepare for the worse. 

I’ve heard of dark, ancient things that sleep deep underground as well.   If he has betrayed us to the Seafolk, we may have already lost.  Him in the west to cut retreat as they swarm in from the east while we are weak?”

“How would we even prepare for that?” I whispered, hoping that his mind remained clear enough to finish our discourse.

“Warn Mirktal, call off this war.  Ask them if they want to defend Laxton Bay when the Seafolk crawl ashore.”

“I—I can’t just ask cousin Rilt to call off the war.  He doesn’t care for me.  We need our armies at higher tiers, regardless.”

My father looked at me, unrelenting.  I stilled my back, keeping myself from shuddering.  “I will, father.”

The man, the former king, accepted my words with a relieved sigh, and looked towards the ceiling before speaking the prayer, “Hallowed are the chains that bind us to our duty. 

Responsibility to others is the greatest chain of all.  Each of us a slave to one another.”

“Hallowed are the chains,” I closed my eyes and answered him, repeating the prayer.  When I opened them back up, I could see his madness had returned.  Seeing the man that I had always looked up to, the former pride of Sena, in such a state hurt more than I could ever speak.  Instead, I turned away to allow the servants and guards to resume their duties as I would resume mine.

“Hallowed are the chains that bind us,” I whispered again to myself, seeking solace in the holy words.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 40

The next morning, I awoke well-rested.  Sleeping in my bed after a feast left me feeling renewed, but that energy came with a strong sense of urgency.  I had today and some of tomorrow to complete my preparations for going to war, and it didn’t feel like enough time.  Certainly, I had kept some things at the ready, but a good portion of those were magical defenses tied to the tower.

If I pulled the gargoyles away, that would leave fewer defenses should Mirktal aim for my residence.

My first order of business was to send the air elementals I had stationed around the top of the tower north to survey the positions and forces against me.  I wanted to see what, if any, of Sena’s forces remained behind to slow the advance and where the best place to join them would be.

I did this even before I attended breakfast.  To my surprise, breakfast had become a very social endeavor, with all the guards, assistants, and mages all dining in on the first floor and chatting with each other.

Lilly didn’t join them, preferring to keep her own company at the smaller dining table outside the kitchen. I joined Lilly downstairs and we ate in a companionable silence that was only broken when she asked a single question.

“You’re going to fight Mirktal?” her voice shook with constrained emotion.

“I am,” I answered.

“Good,” she declared, more to herself than to me.  Her golden eyes shone with determined anger for a moment before returning to the meal before her.

That small exchange served as a reminder to her of the promise I made to make those responsible for Walker’s death pay.  While that included Mirktallean armies, it also included those in Sena’s army who gave him his orders.  To an extent, I felt it also included myself, even if I knew my sense of guilt was driven by questions of whether I could have done more or prepared him better.

After eating, I tasked myself with checking the spellworks I had laid on the dungeon and the tower crystal.

Lilly walked beside me, though she didn’t speak.  I almost allowed myself to become distracted in considering why or attempting a discourse to see if there were any words of wisdom that I could provide her.  Yet, I didn’t.  I had more than enough to do, and could only hope that she didn’t give into despair after I left.  Between the duchess’s summons and the coming battles, I felt as if I were abandoning her.

Regardless of Lilly’s disposition, I began checking through the preparations I had made. I put in place a system that allowed the mana that the dungeon drew from the ley lines to fill the mana crystals that grew within it.  I had connected those crystals back to the dungeon core in a complex spellform that allowed mana to be pulled up into the tower crystal and then flow further to the ring I had prepared.  When the ring wasn’t drawing power, that energy would remain and grow the mana crystals in the dungeon.

It was an elaborate bit of spellcrafting that had taken me the better part of a year just to design, and months to perfectly place.  It was completely worth it as well, for I could cast spells that would take entire corps of mages in synchronization to cast.  Truly powerful spells.  I’d already tested the distance and the power I could pull when I raised the towns on plateaus, so this morning’s task was simply to check the connecting spellwork a final time to ensure it remained complete.

At lunch, Lilly and I met with Rhaela the Red, and confirmed that I would employ her as a spymaster.

I doubted she had true experience at the task, but what she lacked there she made up with enthusiasm.  While she may not stop or catch any high-level spies should they take interest in my tower, I didn’t see the harm in allowing her to attempt.

I also tasked her with providing training to Lilly.  While it wouldn’t be a formalized class like she would obtain at the Arcanum, I felt it important to distract the girl with something she wasn’t already familiar with.

I could re-evaluate her course of study after my return from the battles ahead.

After lunch was when I prepared the second of my projects.  If I was going to war, I wanted a powerful elemental by my side.  One large enough that it could frighten entire armies.

One large enough to keep around to use against the hydra later.  With this in mind, I stood at the top of my residence and pulled from power from my ring to use [Earth Manipulation] on the surrounding bog.

As the mud began to slide towards my reflection lake and grow into a massive pile, I heard the villagers shout as they came to watch.  My water elemental swam to the side of the lake, looping around the growing hill.

It took time to gather that much mud, as it wasn’t as deep as I might have wished, and in that time I found that many had gathered on the tower tops or the sides of the lake to watch.

When the top of the growing hill reached level with my tower, I stopped pulling in the mud and began to shape it.  Unlike other materials, mud was best for a crushing or smashing attack.  I also needed a beast with the capability to fight against the many separate heads of the hydra.

What I pictured was a monster that I had seen illustrations of in tomes with warnings of its nature.

A beast from the deep waters off the Laxtoni coast.  I had come across versions of its young caught by fishermen and purchased to experiment on a half-century ago.  Something that had a strong main body with many flexible and deadly limbs.  It was midafternoon when I finished the shaping of the mud and left my tower to approach closer.

Of the use gemstones gathered, I had paid close attention to the emeralds.  While my first third-tier class was Pyromancer, courtesy of the Sena Mage Corps, my experience with geomancy was the one that I leaned on the most.

The gemstone I’d purchased and those provided by Baroness Nix left me with a great supply that would undoubtedly be needed for the coming Pestilence.

Yet, I wasn’t done with constructing the form I wanted this elemental to take.  On the underside of each tentacle, I added sharped stone spikes a man’s height in length.  It was a painstaking process that took more time than I would have liked.

After I completed the entire shape of the beast, I started adding in the emeralds and summoning elementals to inhabit the creation.  First and second-tier elementals for each of the stone spikes in the limbs.  Fourth tier elementals for the limbs themselves.

The main body, though, was the most intensive.  While my request for an elemental lord was eventually granted, it took time to communicate with the master of that domain.

Finally, I had to add the sapphires to summon third-tier water elementals. These elementals were tasked with keeping my new servant from drying out completely.  Not that it couldn’t replace all its limbs with stone and continue to function—something that I ensured it could understand—but that the capability of a mud elemental to regenerate lost or damaged body parts was something that would surely be needed.   Given what I had seen in the canyon the Pestilence inhabited, mud was likely the most common element left to use.

It was early evening when I completed it, the reflection of the sunset marred by my creation on the water.

Lilly brought me a meal of warm fish soup and flaky flatbread that paired better than I would have expected.

“Master, what is this?” she asked quietly as I ate.  Before us, the elemental was adjusting to its new body, the coiling limbs flexed and retracted with odd intervals.  Its large body towered over the surroundings, a moving monument that demonstrated the power of magic.  The spikes shook and shuddered, sometimes individuals and sometimes in groups.  The pops of splattered mud and squelch of earth lifted from mud created an odd ambiance.

“This,” I gestured with my spoon, “Will be the most powerful fifth-tier elemental ever summoned in the Kingdom of Sena,” I answered proudly.  To be fair, I wasn’t entirely certain of the summons made during the founding of the kingdom, though I suspected that anything this powerful would have left behind records.  Not that anyone other than a historian would be able to argue against my claim—something I would be more than happy to partake in if the timing were better.

Lilly shook her head. “Master, I meant the shape.  The arms and head.  The way the teeth move.  It’s,” she paused, “disturbing.”

“The shape?” I chortled, “That beast, my dear, is called an octopus.”

Interlude - Froom

The news came fast, setting my whole town talking in excitement. Few of those villagers and tradesmen knew what it meant, but I did.  Or I thought I did.  Years of study and adventure had gained me the tiers to fight off hordes of monsters on my own, yet my own magic, even here in my seat of power, felt a pale imitation in comparison to his.  Rather than dwell on my misgivings, I strode from my study towards my love, my life.

She was outside, little more than a half-mile away working in her druidic grove with the others of her class.

My walk from my study through my grand tower, the fortified courtyard, and the overstuffed village didn’t go unnoticed.  Guards and apprentices followed in my wake, while others rushed about carrying out the final tasks needed to prepare.  Even the villagers and refugees stopped in their activities to watch.   I rarely left, and when I did, I rarely walked with the determination I had today.

I met my Natali at the edge of the forest, the head of the trail that led to her grove.  More than a dozen other druids draped in tiny strips of fur stood behind her and did their best to appear uninterested in our conversation.  Some examined trees or whispered to nearby animals.  Another time and place I would have labeled them savages, but here I paid them no heed. In my eyes, the only woman that mattered was standing at their fore.

“Lady Natali,” I greeted with a smile as I approached, knowing she hated the title.  A gentle ribbing was always on the table between us, after all the years we had been together.  She looked as beautiful in her moss-made robe now as she did when we met, or would have if she returned my smile.  Natali, though, didn’t return my smile.  She knew why I had come and what it meant, and wasn’t about to allow the argument of the past months to lay silent.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said with a frown. “We don’t know what’s there or if it will be able to help.”

I didn’t grow angry, nor did I dismiss her concerns.  They were concerns made of love and care. With a sigh, I took her hand in mine, “My love, if there were another way forward, you don’t think I would be setting my mind to that?”

She looked away for a moment, her expression the same one she had when I went off to adventure.

Without another word, she turned and began leading us all down the trail into the forest.  Behind us, the [Porters], [Guards], and [Mages] all sorted themselves out into lines of people.  The druids walked ahead of the two of us.  Neither they nor my wife spoke a word as we walked.

Even if it was a slow and steady procession, it still left me winded.  We passed the hill with the grove of Maple and Birch trees surrounding a pond that made up Natali’s grove.   The forest beyond it was even wilder and more untamed, though the druids used their magic to move plants out of the way.

Hours later, we arrived.

What had once been a quiet Wood Elf village, was now a bustling glade.  The birds chirped, and woodland creatures had already made their nests in the vacated hollows of enormous trees that once served as beds and homes for the elves, but they were the normal denizens of the forest.  It was my people that stood out of place.

To our left, a path led from the glade back towards my tower and town.  The field beyond the elves’ trees, a field that should have overgrown with lush and fragrant wildflowers was a trampled pit of mud with thousands of first-tier golems waiting in silence.

To the right, a thicker forest of trees heavy with fruit clattered with the refuse of humanity.  The Bents had served an important purpose once, that of being the missing key my wife had used to open the door to conversation with the wood elves.  Now that the elves were gone, they were once again a tragic example of failures.   Not that I intended to remove them from this orchard.

In the very center of the village stood a magnificent edifice, the reason why we had come.  A sheet of cloudy amber that stood twice as tall I any man and filtered light into the hues of summer dusk across the glade.

In front of that doorway, my mages, guards, and golems hustled through and around.  Flashes of pale green light shone brightly when someone entered or left it.

Stelk, one of my most promising mages from the Arcanum came forward from the doorway as we approached, “Master, the portal remains open and ready.”

My wife gripped my hand tighter when he spoke, but didn’t say a word.  She left that to me, but I knew what she wanted.

“The other side?” I inquired.

“We’ve cleared out the beasts and elementals for a quarter-mile.  It cost us, master.  Sixteen mages and a hundred and a half golems fell in the taking.”

The loss in golems I didn’t care about, they were replaceable.  The mages, sixteen, I would add to the long list that burdened my conscience late at night.

Hopefully, this would lead to the path forward.  Planar Lord might be the only thing that could save us.  I nodded and watched as he turned to shout orders.  More golems began marching through the portal as we stood.

“Alred, are you sure you want to do this? What if Mirktal attacks while we’re gone?”  Natali asked softly.

“Now is the best time,” I smiled as I looked down at her.  She was only an inch or so shorter than I was, “Didn’t you hear the news?”

“What news is that?”

I grinned and spoke proudly, “Nemon Fargus has entered the war.”

I had expected her to be shocked, but she just nodded and said, “Good.”

“Good?”

She nodded again, “Yes, good.  Now I can come with you.”

This time, she smiled up and me, and I did my best to hold my fears from showing on my face.  From the satisfaction I saw in her eyes, I could tell she saw right through me.

Maps - Early look!

I'll be sharing these on Royal Road in a week or two, but wanted to give you all a first look!

Feel free to let me know what you think.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 39

The table was laden with pork and fish meals.  Sliced cutlets fish, roasted and marinated were my favorite among the offerings, though the grilled pork steaks drizzled with thick apple cider was a close second.  The bowl of mashed carrots somehow got hidden and thrown into the firepit in the center of the room with none the wiser.

To my right sat Lilly and beyond her Leslie.  Lilly had dressed in one of her gowns, though her face held the deep sadness of loss.

Leslie kept trying to draw her into a conversation, though she only reluctantly spoke.  I would need to spend some time with her before I went off to war.

To my left, Kine and Ram’s wife, Lutha, were deep in discussion on how no one truly owns the western mountains, despite what the maps said.  Apparently, many of the dwarven clans were still in contact with each other, and many were still without home or shelter.

It was only partway through my meal that my seneschal, Fentworth Aide, came to my side to whisper, “My lord, you have some petitioners that seek an audience.  Would you hear them now or shall I send them away until tomorrow?”

I suppressed a shudder at his words.  It was a reminder of my new station, something that I had accepted as a possible outcome of my title and lands but hadn’t put thought into beyond that.  I hadn’t needed to before now, but it appeared that I would need to hold court. I wasn’t opposed to the idea of doing so, in truth.  I was opposed to the idea of the time it would take away from my experiments and other duties.

At the other end of the room, I saw the two guards that had served the longest, Eni and Tond.  Both were looking rather nervous and whispered to each other in low tones.  They had polished and cleaned their armor to an impressive degree.  Before answering Fentworth, I glanced around the table to see who sat with me.

Lilly to my right, along with Leslie and my other two assistants.  Beyond them sat Shaelra and another nun I hadn’t spoken with.

To my left, Kine and then Lutha, with Ram’s son on her lap.  The child was merrily bending the iron spoon in his hands, a young blacksmith in the making.  Beyond those three sat the other magic-users, Pyl and Loralie in an animated conversation.

I didn’t see Rhaela the Red among their number, but given her history of charm magics, I hadn’t believed she would stay in a small village for this long.  There were just too many who could see through her magics.

These people around the table, while not the most ideal of candidates, would make for a good council to handle minor petitions in the future.   It would do them well to watch as I held court before delegating the responsibility.  That I could hold court and eat at the same time was only a small benefit to doing so now, so I cast a quick cleaning spell on myself and nodded in answer to my seneschal’s question.

“Very good, sir,” he said, as he walked back around the table towards the front door.  From there he called out over the small conversations around the room, “Presenting tower guard Tond, third-tier [Elemental Archer] to address his lord, Wizard Nemon Fargus.”

Despite a higher pitch in his voice than I would have expected, the man’s words had the immediate effect of silencing all conversations.  Tond, in his uniform, approached with an awkward gait, embarrassment clear on his face.

“Sir,” he saluted, then bowed, and then started to kneel before I waved him off of it.

“Tond, you have a request?” I asked.

The man looked around at all the people sitting around the table with me before gazing at his feet, “Sir, I would like to be released from my position here.  Ya offered it a while ago, and I think I done a good job.  Would that be okay?”  He glanced up to see me looking at him, and then back down at his feet.

I considered the matter.

That he would request it meant he was serious about leaving.  I had no desire to retain the man if it caused his loyalty to rot.  He was also one of the longest-serving guards here, and with the three new guards, it left only Eni to oversee them.

Not that I provided either Eni or Tond any particular training, but they did know by now what I expected of them.  The timing did feel unusual, though.  I would be going to war soon, so perhaps he wanted to see battle with me?  I could only hope for that kind of loyalty, even if I doubted it.

“Why?” I asked.

I heard Eni snicker from where he stood by the door waiting his turn, but Tond just looked nervously around before stumbling over his words, “Well, my lord… you see, I, uh—”

Eni called out from behind him, “Sir, he ain’t seeing Miss Chelsea no more and don’t wanna be around her.”

Tond’s shoulders fell in response, but he didn’t refute the matter.  Rather, he gazed at me with a pleading look in his eyes, not that I blamed the man.  I was rather annoyed, though.  My first petitioner in the first court I ever held, and it dealt with something ridiculous like the matters of the heart.  I hoped the other petitioners had more important matters to be addressed.

“Granted,” I said simply.

Tond exhaled a big breath he’d been holding before bowing again.

Before the man was even halfway around the fireplace, Fentworth called the next petitioner, “Presenting tower guard Eni, third-tier [Beast Master] to address his lord, Wizard Nemon Fargus.”

Eni, came forward with a much more confident gait.  His head was held tall, and his chest was puffed out.  He saluted me directly and then stood to wait for permission to speak.

“Eni, you have a request?

I hope you aren’t asking for release from your duties as well?” I spoke, though I didn’t even bother to keep the tone of annoyance from my voice.

“Sir, I have come for two requests.  I have been speaking with Lady Ivy regarding your wolf experiments, and—” he paused, the words stopping in his mouth when he saw my face.

My face, of course, had changed when he mentioned he was working with the nature elemental, a frown of consternation and a furrowed brow.  I schooled my expression and dismissed my immediate thoughts of burning the woman to the ground and salting the earth where the roots lay.

“Go on,” I said.

Speaking a little slower, and with some added uncertainty, “And she was able to cast a spell to speed their fertility.  Given your previous orders, we culled all the lines with birth defects, but we still have an abundance of more than nine hundred pups.  Your assistants have successfully completed their animal bond spell,” he paused to give the two young men a pleading look, “And I was hoping to put the new pups up for adoption among any who want one.”

Phillipe stood as soon as Eni had finished, “Master, we can confirm the spell is complete.  Testing is over, though casting the spell for everyone who wants an animal will take a significant amount of time.” He bowed after he spoke and returned to his seat.

I glanced at the brothers, and raised an eyebrow, “You can confirm there is no side effect to the fertility spellwork?”

Philipe stood back up, “None that we could find, master.  We also asked Kine, Loralie, and Pyl to check, and they could find none either.”

That relieved my biggest worry at the moment, I glanced at Kine who shrugged before speaking, “Master, I couldn’t find any.  I can report that the spell worked on more than the wolves.  Half the villager women are pregnant, the fish swim in abundant schools, and we have more mosquitos swarm.”

I tapped my finger on the table, and poked at my food with my fork as I debated burning down the nature elemental for the second time this evening.

“Sir?” Eni’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up at him and then realized that he was still waiting for an answer.  I had already made up my mind though.  “Certainly.  Get rid of them all.  That experiment is over as I won’t have time to complete it before the Pestilence arrives. Any wolves not spoken for can be culled.” I spoke while gesturing with my fork, and then took a bite as I finished.  Wolf pups were so far below my current priorities, it wasn’t worth spending any more thoughts on.

“Any other petitioners?” I looked to my seneschal.

“Three, my lord,” he answered with a swift bow.

I nodded and then filled my glass of wine a little higher as he gathered the next one.

The next petitioners were simple matters.  A case of adultery and a case of theft.  For the adulterer, I deferred to Sister Shaelra, and the thief was tasked with gathering night soil for three months.  The third and final petitioner, though, was concerning something beyond my expectations.  When the door opened, it revealed Rhaela the Red in her best attire leading a prisoner who had a bag over his head and his hands tied.

“Presenting Rhaela the Red, third-tier [Charm Caster] to address his lord, Wizard Nemon Fargus.”

She approached with a sway in her hips and a flirtatious look in her eye, leading the man behind her like a dog on a leash.  “My lord,” she said with a bow.

I nodded in return to her greeting and waited.

After a quick glance toward Kine, she returned her eyes to me and spoke, “Great Wizard, I have found within your domain, a spy under the guise of a villager.”

With an overly dramatic flair, she snatched away the bag on the man's head and revealed a rather normal-looking fellow underneath.  The man’s gaze seemed unfocused at first and then his eyes widened in the realization of where he was, darting around in panic.  However, when his eyes met those of his captor, they became wistful and his panic was replaced with a doe-eyed fascination.

She waited for this to occur before she turned back to me and continued to speak, “Fourteen days ago, I noticed that Leenu didn’t socialize much with the other villagers and would often disappear for days on end.  After carefully plotting where and when he went…”

I waved her speech off.

I didn’t need to know about the methods or details of how he was captured.  “Who does he spy for?” I asked, numerous possibilities going through my head.

“Mirktal,” Rhaela claimed, which sent a round of mutters through those around me.

Lilly, who had been paying little attention to the ongoings until this point, became fixated on the man.

Her hands curled into a fist and her jaw clenched.  Some of the others had similar responses, though not as severe.

“Go on,” I commanded.

I had begun to feel flippant about holding court until this moment.  It was good that I hadn’t dismissed the event entirely.

Rhaela bowed, “Sir, I know he is from Mirktal with orders to track your movements, but that was all I was able to gather for now.  Given more time, I could learn more.”

I had been considering how best to correct the problem of the spy, until she said these words.  The man didn’t have any slave-magics or wear an enchanted collar, so there was little freeing I could do.  That the prisoner was brought to court meant that all those around me knew he was here, and I couldn’t secret him away to a cell in my dungeon to take care of the matter quietly.  Yet, when Rhaela spoke of wanting more time, I saw a sharp look in her eyes, not much different than the look of a merchant.

“Shaelra, your thoughts?” I called, and waited for the nun to speak.  She stood and began discussing how she felt about Mirktal and the problems of the way, but I didn’t listen.  Her speech was a distraction for the others.

Instead, I leaned towards Kine and whispered, “What is she asking for?”

Kine tilted his head lower and smirked as he whispered back, “She wants to prove her value.  Thinks she can be a spymaster for you.  I told her you wouldn’t have need of such a thing, but she is a difficult woman to curtail when she sets her mind.  That’s part of what I like about her.”

I nodded and sat back up as I disgested his words.  My first thoughts were on how painful something like that could be to a romantic relationship, and that I should warn the man, the look in his eyes told me that such a warning wouldn’t be heard.  Then I considered the rest of it.  Did I need a spymaster?  Clearly, there are people spying on me.  There have nearly always been mages seeking to better their craft through looking in on mine.  My wards would prevent that easily.

Yet a glance at Lilly’s angry face and my assistants sitting beyond her reminded me that I was no longer responsible for solely myself.  It was a disappointing line of thought, as I only had myself to blame for the growing number of people living in the shadow of my tower.  Perhaps a spymaster would be useful.

I permitted others to address the room as well, Lilly next, followed by whoever else wanted a say.  It took an hour for their remarks to conclude, and by the end our dinner had grown cold.  Still, it was worthwhile.

When no one else desired to speak on the matter I turned towards Rhaela, “You may have the time you requested.  Come by tomorrow and we will discuss your employment further.”

Lots of names this chapter!  Let me know if there are some you think need descriptions or refreshing on!

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 38

The night had been spent in discussion with Mena, though I listened more than I spoke.  It was the type of serious conversation that meant something when you looked back years later and thought about how it achieved nothing actionable but held a value that was difficult to describe.  

It was the dark early morning when we traveled back to the inn, and I certainly slept through most of the next day.  When I did awaken, I found that many of the adventurers, guards, townsfolk, and refugees had gathered to voluntarily join the growing army, and Count Wilchrest had his hands full all day long sorting them into groups for rudimentary training.  I didn’t comment on the matter other than to give the man instructions to rejoin me at the village of Woodhoot when the forces were prepared.  

When I finally left the comforts of the inn, and stepped into the bright afternoon sun, I found four nuns outside waiting on me.  I wasn’t certain how it came about, not bothering to look further into the matter, but they were rightfully upset that the town of Lark would not afford them a building or lands for a new orphanage.    

While I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of moving children any closer to the lines of battle than they already were, I did need to establish a religious building attached to the wall of my tower to guard against attacks from religious magic.  Both the weakness in my defenses and the idea of leaving so many destitute children adrift were enough grounds to commission ten large wagons to carry the assortment of orphans and nuns with me to the tower.   

During the last few days of travel, several of the soldiers had grown close with the children and likely would have adopted had the circumstances differed, and they were more than happy to accompany us.  I did get to witness a heartwarming reunion between one child and their aunt while we were loading them for travel.  

The travel to my tower was slow-going, but I expected as much.  Mena and Meathead had stayed behind as leadership of the reformed banditry, which left me to travel directly with my assistant Leslie, the nun Shaelra, and—for some reason I have yet to fathom—the orphan Jacob.  The three-day journey consisted of listening to more details of Leslie’s adventure and discussion with Shaelra over what materials would be required for a temple and orphanage.  

Jacob, though he had joined us physically, spent most of those two days making moon-eyes at Leslie. 

The young man was of that age, though, and Leslie seemed to enjoy having a rapt audience for her stories even if she was oblivious to the reason why.  When I wasn’t discussing those topics, or the myriad of concerns that traveling with such company entailed, I was planning for the magics I would need to use in the coming battle.

It was too late for me to construct more than a dozen or so wands that would undo Mirtallean slave magics, not enough to make any difference in a battle.  I also didn’t have a cadre of mages trained in joint casting. 

The mages that had joined would be a benefit, but not compared to a trained mage corp.  In fact, I wasn’t certain how many of the non-adventurer mages had seen actual combat, let alone war. This meant that I was likely the only defense against any magic-based combat units, and I hadn’t done battle against Mirktallean forces in more than a century.  

Still, with careful planning, I should be able to do my part in the coming battles.  In the past, most of their armies were filled with slave-soldiers.  Those soldiers usually outnumbered Sena’s, and it was impossible to cause them to retreat. 

 Men or women that would fight on without regard to how grievous their injury. 

Child-slaves pushed to the forefront of the battle lines had caused even the greatest of Sena’s warriors to pause.

That didn’t mean their armies didn’t have detriments.  Their command structure was the greatest weakness, as without someone giving the slaves their orders they would simply continue with their last known orders.  A good assassin could cause a camp of soldiers to stay encamped for years.  Traps and ambushes had powerful effects, especially if the Mirktallean commander issued a full charge.

Yet, I didn’t want to see more death.  I had already seen enough of war and we would need every able body to fight against the Pestilence that we could arm.  No, what I wanted was to appear on the battlefield with such an overwhelmingly powerful force that the Mirtallean commanders simply retreated.  The question was how best to do that.  

My old war staves could summon hundreds of second-tier elementals, but that was something they would expect. 

No, my plans involved an elemental more substantial.  Perhaps even a fifth-tier one merged with lesser elementals.  That in combination with spells prepared and cast with magic through my ring would do well.

While my mind was on these thoughts, it didn’t escape my notice how the children reacted to our trip. 

While they had been subdued and sad for most of it, the looks of excitement and wonder filled their faces now.  The stop in Lark where they could eat their fill had helped, but I liked to think that it was the covered road to my tower with its glowing nature elementals and sunbeams that altered their outlook.  Not that I took the time to speak to any children beyond Jacob and those who sat around the campfire listening to my stories. 

Night had fallen by the time we arrived.  The wagon caravan just in time to see a veritable mob of unhappy humans and dwarves outside my gates.  From a distance, I could hear them shouting, the noise loud and unruly.  Kine was standing in front of the gates with Tond by his side.  Eni stood with his back to the guardhouse, leaning in what looked to be a relaxed manner. 

Light spells were active above both the crowd and the different towers making it almost as bright as day.   

Fortunately, whatever caused these people to be upset wasn’t enough to make them unaware of the approaching wagons, and the boisterous yelling fell to a small muttering.  Still, it wasn’t what I wanted to see upon my arrival, let alone how I wanted to introduce the nuns and children to their new homes.  The [Wagoneer] called us to a halt a few feet into a crowd that spread beside the horses, and I stepped out onto the road beneath as if I hadn’t noticed the crowd at all, and instead affected a look of surprise at them as I spoke.

“What is all of this then?” I asked, using small magics to make my voice heard.  Unfortunately, this had the result of causing all to speak at once, an uproar that made my ears ring even if I feigned nonchalance. 

After a moment or two, when the noise didn’t stop, I clapped my hands loudly, a sound that was amplified by my magics and loud enough to startled the horses pulling the wagons.

When silence resumed, I looked at the faces once more, noticing that the dwarves had quietly moved to stand in and among the mob of humans.  I wasn’t certain why they would do so, but it wasn’t important to me at the moment either.  Instead, I frowned and spoke again, “I cannot hear you over each other.  Appoint one person to speak your grievance.”

That caused several mumbles and quiet arguments until one man simply shouted, “We didn’t know we would have to live next to a necromancer!  It just ain’t right!”

The man, skinny yet toned, shrunk back after his shout, his face red with shame or embarrassment.  Or maybe, he simply didn’t like the entire eyes of the crowd turning in his direction when he spoke.  Some were like that.  Around the crowd, I hear low but clear sounds of agreement.

I looked at him for a moment in surprise.  Necromancer Pyl hadn’t been hidden away, and I knew he had been active around my reflection lake and its underwater crypt for a while.  Anyone with eyes should have been able to see him doing necromancy. 

I failed to see how this was a reason to form an angry mob now, unless there was some hidden spy amongst the villagers causing trouble.  I voiced that opinion with my next question, “And how is that a problem?”

The man who spoke before widened his eyes in surprise and looked around at the others to gather courage before he answered, “Master Fargus, with all due respect, I don’t wanna live next to no necromancer, sir.  My wife was cooking a hen in the pot this evening and the darn thing leapt out and ran away!  We had to chase down our dinner both before and after we done cooked it.”  

He almost sounded apologetic as he spoke to me, a thick woman and child at his sides both nodded in agreement though.  I couldn’t doubt the truth of that.  If there was too much death mana in the surroundings such a thing was easily possible.

Another man near the back of the crowd spoke up, “I gotta cut the heads off my fish right as soon as I catch ‘em or they just keep wriggling around!”  

His words were answered with several louder voices of agreement.  A woman near the, impassioned by growing voices called out soon after, “Why, Chandar’s wife Elsa died three days ago and woke back up!  He keeps her locked in a room because he loves her too much to lay her to rest!”

“Hey now!  I ain’t dead, you heifer!” the woman, who must have been Elsa called from further within the crowd.  

“Might as well be as much time as you spend with me!” Another man answered from a different part of the crowd, which seemed to be some sort of signal for everyone to talk or laugh or shout all at once.

I sighed and clapped my hands together to silence them once again, “I will look into the matter of your dinners… rising… and will resolve it.  If there are any other matters you may consult with your Alderman Kine to bring to me.” I followed up with a gesture to the man, whose look of relief and changed to surprise and then resolution all in the time it took to blink.

My words left them muttering, but I didn’t stop there.  I prepared a spellwork that would cause thunder to echo in the skies as I spoke my next words, “Additionally, this village will be housing the largest orphanage in the country soon.  In the wagons behind me are hundreds of children who have lost their families.  Their journey here was arduous and taxing, and I ask of you to show them your kindness.  If you have the means to take in a child to raise, then I suggest you do so. 

Those of you who have the means and do not will no longer be welcome on these lands.  You have until tomorrow to decide.”  

With that out of the way, I began to see to those in the wagons behind me.  My three assistants reunited briefly before I tasked them with the construction of a new tower to serve as a temple to Elora.  The children, in a mass of bewildered confusion, mostly left the wagons to meet with other children from the village and soon a great feast with three pits roasting flame boars were going.  Casks of ale were opened and the city was celebrating as if they hadn’t been an angry mob two hours ago.  

It wasn’t long before I was sitting in my chair at my table amongst my seneschal, Kine, Eni, and others enjoying a feast of my own.  Fentworth Aide had taken it upon himself to hire an additional cook for the kitchens so that food was prepared for the outer towers as well as my own.  Chelsea had been relegated to cleaning and baking bread, an admonishment she wasn’t happy with but deserved.

It was at this table that I was presented with a number of matters of real importance that I needed to answer quickly before preparing to rejoin the army headed north.  

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 37

The next day, we were on our way towards Lark. My carriage had gained two new occupants, though I didn’t mind. The young lad, one of the orphans from Sena City, turned out to be a Jacob. He was the brazen youth who had first told me of the conscription of orphans when I visited not so long ago.

The other was the nun Shaelra, a stern woman who had little sense of playfulness about her.  She had said only a greeting to us along with a strongly worded warning that Jacob should behave before she fell asleep from exhaustion. Even now, I could see her brows furrow and raise as she was beset by whatever dreams that held her.

The rest of us maintained an unspoken agreement to remain quiet in respect for her efforts. Both Jacob and Count Wilchrest looked from their windows and considered their thoughts. I had withdrawn a tome I had taken from Sena City and began to read it, though the rattling of the carriage on the road was an annoyance. It was around lunch time, when she finally awoke. The scent of hard cakes and wine we were served while moving had drawn her from her slumber.

Both she and Jacob ate as if they had never had sweets before, so I slide my lunch over to them, an act that the Count quickly mimicked. While they ate, the man watched them in amazement before turning his gaze to me.

“Savior, I have been thinking,” he began softly.

The words he chose could mean that this conversation could go in any number of directions.  It brought to mind that I truly knew very little of him, only of his pedigree. While I didn’t doubt that he was and would continue to be an excellent example of House Shielding’s honorable line, I hoped that the next words he spoke were ones that could show me something more.

“You have?” I asked politely and sipped my wine. It was one of the more complex grape wines with hints of something else, the taste tart and sweet at the same time.

The sides of his mouth creased, not a frown or a smile, but something else that said he wasn’t certain of the best way to approach his chosen topic. Given that he had the entire morning to think about it, it must be either extremely weighty or uncomfortable for him. With the book still open on my lap, and a desire to return to its words, I raised my eyebrow to urge him on.

He glanced at his wine as he spoke, only raising his eyes for the question at the end, “I have no position to ask this, but my curiosity. My grandfather lost his title and position to warn the king of the coming Pestilence. You have risked much to warn the King himself, as the Duchess said. Yet, why would you now agree to partake of this war when the threat we face is so dire?”

“What Pestilence?” Jacob asked, curiously.

“Shh, child,” Sister Shaelra hushed Jacob, before turning to look at us, “Yes, what Pestilence?”

I took a large slow breath and glanced at the new Count.

His eyes were opened in surprise and he glanced at me a few times before speaking, “I—I had thought you were already aware. Why else would your god send you all the way out here if not to protect you from this danger?”

I watched as anger flashed in the woman’s eyes and her mouth twisted in a way that likely meant she would be stabbing the Count with words shortly. I simply waved a hand to dismiss his words and spoke before she could, “The Pestilence is an uncountable number of monsters, any single one of which could destroy a city like Eiston. A terror that threatens all the world. Soon they will flood the lands to usher in the end of this age.”

The woman sat in a stunned silence, but the child Jacob seemed unperturbed by the idea. With an excitement that only young children could muster for such a subject, he asked, “Uncountable, is that a lot?”

“It is a lot, more than I myself could count,” I answered with a smile.

Young Jacob and I conversed that way for the next few hours, with Sister Shaelra looking paler and paler the entire time. Count Wilchrest had taken to sitting with an uncomfortable silence, as if ashamed of speaking of the topic.   It was as we reached the town of Lark that the conversation fell away.

For a handful of days we continued our travels, our speed slowed by the addition of children. They were of little burden to the duties of a soldier and seemed to cause those men and women to stand taller and carry themselves with more professionalism than before. The children were, however, a burden on supplies. Four times we stopped farmers traveling to or from Lark and purchased wagonloads of food.

The rest stops I had made during my previous trips weren’t available either, both having been taken over by enterprising merchants. One was a farmers’ market, with seven different stands of local produce left behind happier and wealthier.  The other had created an inn called Stones Beauty, having boxed in the stone rest stop with walls of wood, though we didn’t stop at it along the way.

The walls of Lark had changed greatly since I last stopped to look. Where once they were large timbers, and then later blocks of stone replaced part of the walls, now they stood finished. Nearly a hundred feet high, looking heavy and thick. It wasn’t the walls that drew my attention, though, but what awaited us outside of those walls.

A grouping of bandits, at least a thousand strong, led by none other than Meathead, Leslie, and Mena. The bandits looked disorganized and were in various states of health. Some stood injured and still bleeding, while others wore finely polished armor and stood firm. Many had a military bearing that I recognized and hoped meant they weren’t deserters. I had little mercy for a deserter, unless they were Mirtallean.

On the other side of the road, a more random allotment of people waited. Some of them were Scouts, standing in line in their uniforms. A grouping of about a hundred children wearing little more rags. A dozen mages of various stages. Adventurers. Merchants. Refugees. Others that I couldn’t quite place. The carriage stopped maybe fifty paces before the grouping and I graced the other occupants with a contained smile before exiting.

Behind us, several of the soldiers ran towards Count Wilchrest, I assumed to seek guidance on the bandits. I ignored their chatter as I walked forward to meet my assistant Leslie and my guards. They seemed in a cheerful mode, but I was apprehensive about meeting with them. It was unlikely that they heard the news of Walker’s death.

Mena was the first to greet me, having changed little in the time she was gone. She stood with a confident pose, with her arms clasped before her, and a spear and shield on her back. Her belt hung with an assortment of weaponry. A short, curved sword of some type on the left, three daggers, and a long knife.

“Hiya boss!” she called with a welcoming smile and hand waved over her head.

I returned the smile and nodded as I approached. Perhaps I should have brought my staff with me to this meeting, as I could see all the men and women behind the three watching me closely. It was only after I was less than ten steps away, that my assistant greeted me.

Leslie, her black hair grown longer but no less curly, bowed formally, “Good day, master.” She said it with a smile on her lips that I hoped meant she was successful with her task. If she was just relieved to see me, I would be disappointed.

Regardless, I nodded back, “Good day.”

“Hey, second boss!” Meathead called out as if I were several paces further away than I was.

Second boss? I take it that meant that Bi had usurped my position in his mind. Which was fine, as I expected it to happen eventually. [Champions] of gods rarely submitted to others. Now that Bi had taken his place, I needn’t worry over any potential conflict. Truly, he wouldn’t even be my guard any longer. “Meathead,” I answered in a normal tone. I wasn’t about to answer him at his own volume.

“Boss wants to ask you a question,” he continued, oblivious to the looks both Leslie and Mena were giving him.

I raised my eyebrows. A question from a god? “Oh?” I asked.

Meathead nodded, “Yup! He wants to know if you want a bull.” He said it like it was the most natural question in the world, then he followed with, “That’s a boy cow.”

“Hmmm,” I stroked my beard and looked towards Leslie and Mena.  Leslie shrugged and Mena smirked, but neither had any explanation. I turned to look at the ongoings around the entrance to the town. The nuns were meeting and fussing over the new orphans, who in turn were being loaded in with the others. Count Wilchrest was meeting with a scribe of some sort from the town. Several of the merchants were calling out their goods to the soldiers. Mages and adventurers were slowly crossing the road, intent to speak with me for some reason.

“Meathead, I don’t know that I need a bull this day, but please give ‘Bi’ my kindest regards,” I answer with a controlled smile and hoped it didn’t offend the deity. Then, before the conversation could go further in a direction that I didn’t want, I turned towards Mena and Leslie, “It appears we have much to discuss. Let us speak more when we can do so privately and handle our other business here.”

Several hours later, we were gathered in a tavern inside of Lark. A finer establishment than the one I had stayed at in the past. This one had tiled floors of recent cut, finely polished and shining wooden walls and furniture. A large stone hearth of the same stone as the tiles rested in the very back, though the fire was kept small because of the warm summer night. By the bar, a bard sat and blew on a set of pipes in a manner that suggested he could use slightly more training, though it was easy enough to ignore.  Sitting and relaxing was a pleasant change from dealing with the petitioners of the last several hours.

The former bandits had turned out to number in the eight hundreds with a complement of a hundred and fifty mercenaries. Mercenaries led by a fourth-tier landless knight who had taken a few disreputable commissions and sought to redeem his company.  I had no reason not to hire them, the price asked was only a hundred gold with half up front and the rest due in three months. The knight, Gorgian, sat at a table in the corner with Count Wilchrest discussing whatever it is knights discuss in their downtime, likely how best to brush horses or oil armor.

The adventurers and merchants were seeking money as well, but I diverted them towards the Count’s quartermaster to deal with. The mages, on the other hand, sought me out after purchasing copies of the tome I told Leslie to spread, seeking to profit from reporting her theft to me. My opinions of the lot fell swiftly after that, and I instructed them to join the army or face charges of receiving stolen goods.

The worst of the lot, however, were the Scouts. Nearly thirty Scouts in all, fourteen of which were present. They requested to join the army as well, stating they when King Sena had recalled his king’s armies, they could not allow this duchy to go undefended. It left me in a very precarious position. They were, technically, deserters. Normally, I had no compunctions about issuing death sentences for such a matter, but these men and women were seeking to defend the kingdom even at the price of their honor and lives.

I don’t know why they chose to report to me, but by the expressions on their faces, I doubted they would return to their posts if I asked. Instead, I told them to return in the morning as I considered the matter. It could very well be some plot by the kingdom to show that I supported desertion and was a traitor and I needed to carefully consider that matter.

At the moment, Meathead, Leslie, and Mena were regaling me with the stories of their adventure. The bandits that followed them now were calling themselves ‘Fargus’s Forgiven’, although I wasn’t pleased with the matter. It seemed they had a harrowing journey of monsters, treasure, religious awakenings, and more. It paired well with the ale and the small fire.

Despite their enthusiasm, I stayed subdued throughout. It was only when they were done, that I approached the subject I dreaded. With a sad smile and a sigh, I gave Mena a meaningful look. While I knew Meathead and Leslie knew Walker, it was her that had been closest to him while he stayed at the tower.

“I have come by some ill news of late,” I began with a serious expression to contrast the smile I wore during their stories.

She slowly sat her flagon down, and sat up a little taller, “What happened, boss?”

I was thankful that both Meathead and Leslie stayed quiet when I spoke next, “Walker fell in battle, not a month past. Slain by Mirtallian forces. Lilly is back at the tower grieving his loss.” I said each sentence slowly and, in a calm, low voice. Despite that, I couldn’t keep my eyes from feeling watery. I didn’t cry, it was easy enough to blink away with the amount of practice I’ve had, but Mena didn’t have my restraint or experience.

With a scream, she stood and smashed her hand across the table spilling its contents on the floor. She stared at the mess as silence overtook the other patrons of the inn, before turning on a heel and marching away.

“Walker and Lilly?” Leslie said with a soft voice. I knew she hadn’t met them at the tower, they were gone before she arrived, but I assumed she knew them from the orphanage. “Poor Lilly. I never liked her, but wouldn’t wish this on her.”

Meathead mumbled something as well, and I could see he was crying. I patted the man on the shoulder and stood, “I’ll return.”

It wasn’t hard to find Mena after I had left. She’d angrily marched right out the gate, and into the woods where she hacked uselessly at a thick pine tree with her sword. Sometimes bark or chips would fly off, but it was in no risk of falling. I watched in silence for a few moments before calling her name.

“Mena.”

“Let me be old man,” she said through clenched teeth as she continued to hack.

“I don’t imagine the tree would survive that, if I did,” I mused.

She stopped mid-swing, he arms falling limply to her sides, and she turned to look at me with passionless eyes. “What do you want? Magic can’t fix me—this. Unless you can bring him back? But if you could you already would have, and there’d be no reason to tell me.”

In response to her dead voice, I nodded slowly. She was right, after all. Nothing I could say would make her feel better. Time was the only thing that could heal, and I wasn’t entirely certain why I was there with her. I had come to trust Mena, not entirely, but trust her to act with a degree of competence and cunning that allowed me to have faith in her capabilities.

Our relationship wasn’t a friendship, not like my friendship Ram’s was. There was certainly no romantic interest. It was more of a comfort that I could rely on her for certain things. I degree higher than what I would expect from any but my assistants. This, in and of itself, was a thing that twisted my emotions. To know that I would grieve her passing soon enough, perhaps even harder than I grieved for Walker.

Another part, a small and greedy part of myself, sought her out in some inane hope that she would have some answer to dealing with grief I hadn’t considered. Not that I hadn’t already investigated many mundane and magical possibilities.  There was simply no magical cure for it.

The biggest part of the reason I was there, the biggest factor in following her to the middle of the woods in the early evening, was that I simply didn’t want her to be alone. I knew what that was like as well, and even the company of strangers was better than being alone with the pain.

With a tilt of my head and the same sad smile I gave her before, I answered, “Tell me.”

No a chapter - updates and news!

Hello,

I wanted to give you all some quick updates.  

Tier rate decision - so I've taken all of your feedback into account and I will not be changing the $/tier for any patrons at this time.  

Stolen work - I'll be removing my last post from my Patreon so as not to get that website any more attention than it already has.  

News!  - I've been approached by a publisher for Wizard's Tower, and am super excited about it.  The rest of this week I'll be working to edit and polish arc one to submit to them.  What does that mean for you?  I will have a chapter out this week tomorrow or Friday.   I had planned to spend two weeks between arc 2 and 3 editing and plotting, but with the editing pushed forward, I will likely only be spending one week between arc--if all goes well.    

Allanther

Chapter Delayed - work stolen

Hello!   I found out not to long ago that the extra chapters you all are paying to read have been stolen and hosted on another website in violation of copyright laws and common decency.  

On one hand, I'm happy that this means my work is valuable enough to be stolen, lol.   

On the other hand I'm annoyed because so far I've kept the tier price low enough it shouldn't have been a real barrier to anyone.  Not only that, all these chapter will eventually be free when they get posted to royal road.   

Unfortunately, what this means for you all is that the time I would be spending writing today's chapter was instead spent looking into how to fix this. Possibly Monday's too.

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To anyone reading this message on any other website than Patreon: please take a look at my tier price and tell me if it's truly beyond what you can afford.  I didn’t think I priced it too high, but I'm also willing to listen if you think it is.

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To the person who downloaded and shared my work illegally: I thank you for your zeal in trying to share this story to a wider audience.  I also request that you not do so again.  If you have the capability to remove what you have stolen and uploaded elsewhere, please remove it to make my life easier. 

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If anyone not involved in this took the time to read it all, I'm sorry for taking up your time and thank you for your support!   Next chapter will be out as soon as I can get it out.  Have a good weekend!

Allanther 

Patron tiers discussion

Hi!  

I've been peeking in at a few of the other authors patreon accounts (lol something I should have done before I started mine), and noticed that they are working with multiple tier levels.  As other patrons here pointed out, Wizard's Tower is a lot further ahead on its lowest tier than most.

So, I wanted to touch base with you all to gather your thoughts about it.  Obviously, if there are any changes to tiers, it won't be until next month so that you get the best bang for your buck.    

What tiers have worked best for you in the past?

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 36

Sorry for the delay!  I'm still not happy with the beginning of this chapter, but I'm having problems figuring out why.  It might be me being a perfectionist, or it could be me overlooking something obvious.  If you can tell, please let me know!

I gazed at the newly raised Count Wilchest who sat across from me in the carriage. He and nearly half of the Shielding’s family had been in Eiston, along with a good portion of their soldiery. Apparently, when the King had demoted his father, the former Count Shielding, the man had sent his forces and his sons eastward to swear into my service.

That wasn’t something I wanted, the responsibility for the lives of others was more burden than power for me. I wouldn’t even have known they were headed my way except for sheer happenstance. The Duchess had been adamant about negotiating my participation in the war, and while I normally would have been dismissive of the idea, I had not fully prepared myself for publicly negotiating with a widow while standing over her husband’s corpse.

Even now, her words held a power within them. I felt the echo of them in the back of my mind. I will pay any price for justice. It was not a skill or a spell, but a sheer depth of emotion that resonated with a part of myself that I had long sealed away. Those barrels stuck in the corner of my thoughts had creaked and cracked. I had to contend with the woman at the same time I had fought off emotions from long past that threatened to overcome me.

Yet, I was also no general. I wanted no higher position or responsibility. Her treasury? It didn’t interest me. The gold and paintings and whatever else nobles collected would be useless in the face of the coming Pestilence. Couches? Certainly. She had trapped me well. If I had declined her request in front of her court and over the body of her husband, I would have my entire reputation ruined. If I had taken all she offered then, likewise, I would be viewed as a wasp that feeds on carrion.

Above all those thoughts, though, I had been struck by my own sympathy. It wasn’t long ago that Walker’s death had consumed my thoughts, and the grief I felt for him seemed only a paltry thing compared to what the woman must be experiencing. If I were in her place, what bargains would I not strike? What distances would I not travel?

This is how I found myself in a carriage traveling toward Lark ahead of a wagon carrying four couches, a wagon with supplies, and a troop of more than a thousand knights, soldiers, and guards. Certainly, I could travel ahead and trust these men and women to guard my new furniture, but I had waited more than a hundred years for a good couch. Now I had four.

One of the couches was a soft cream color, plusher than the others. Of the other three, one was long enough for two people to lay head to feet, covered in a thick blue fabric. While its cushions were firmer than the rest, I believed it would go perfect along a wall. The other two, nearly identical tan couches were of a—

“Savior, shall I regale you the tale of my exploits in the north while we travel?” Count Wilchrest asked as he looked out the window of the carriage.

My thoughts were interrupted, and I couldn’t help but scowl at the new Count. The man had been more than thrilled with the honor afforded to him with his new position. It verified whatever misplaced trust their family placed in me, and he had hummed and quivered with sheer joy at the circumstances. That was even without having any kind of estate in the barony to speak of.

But for all of his joy yesterday and today, I had no desire to listen to him prattle on about his battle accolades.  So, with a firm unquestionable tone, I answered, “No.”

The nostrils on his upturned nose flared, but he showed no further reaction beyond that.  It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the actions he took at my words. He had clearly paid for it, if the new scars I could see on his forearms and face were any indication. It was that I was having fun considering how I would arrange my new couches in my sitting room.

“Savior?” he asked, his hand waving towards the window. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it looked as though one of his fingers had been shorted by two knuckles.  

Outside the window, I saw something that irritated me to no end. I could feel a vein at my temple pulse. There, on the road, walked a large band of dirty children. Their worn, distant faces displayed a misery I could feel from even inside the carriage. What clothes they wore were barely rags, and most had no shoes or sandals to speak of. A few sported fresh injuries, either bruises or bleeding.

That these children looked injured, dirty and malnourished wasn’t the worst of what I saw. The worst was the three nuns I had met in Sena City that accompanied them. I overlooked their burdened expressions and dirty uniforms to foresee that there was only one reason they could be leading this band of children down this road. They intended to make it my responsibility.

I rattled on the top of the carriage, then opened the window to tell the driver to stop. The carriage, and the entire train of wagons behind us, slowed until we were no longer moving. When Count Wilchrest and I stepped from our carriage, we were nearly a quarter-mile beyond the first of the children and nuns.

Beside me, Count Wilchrest softly cursed, “By the dead sea gods.”

I could have gone to greet them, but I didn’t. I stood and waited for their slow trod to reach me nearly half an hour later. As they came near, I realized they looked much worse now than I had considered them to be at first glance. One nun carried a limp toddler in her arms, a child so pale I doubted it still lived.

There were also many, many more than those I had seen at the orphanage. Even if they took every child from other orphanages across Sena City, I couldn’t imagine it would have led to this number of children. At a swift count, I estimated at least five hundred, though trying to count their tiny figures was a task unto itself.

The crowd of children grouped into a giant throng, pushing and jostling each other in mean spirits. The three nuns conferred amongst themselves before the nun carrying the dead child passed her burden on to a different nun and approached.

“Master Nemon, it is good to see you,” she greeted with a low curtsey, lower than the difference in our stations called for. The woman was much thinner now than I remembered from our brief meeting in the capital, though I had never caught her name.

“Sister,” I started, but then stopped myself. I wasn’t certain how to properly put into words the questions on my mind.

She gave me a look I had seen on children before, but rarely on adults. It was the kind of look a child gave when they knew they had been caught doing something wrong but weren’t ashamed of their actions.

“Great Wiz—” she began and then stopped. She did that three more times, each seeming as if they were the beginnings of a speech she had prepared but couldn’t remember the words to. After the third try, she gave up her attempt, and instead slouched her shoulders. With a defeated tone in her voice, she spoke again, “Great Wizard, we had no other choice. The army kept coming for children younger and younger. We fled the city. Yet, once we were outside, we could think of no place to go. The king’s men would find us at any temple or monastery we could seek refuge at.”

She turned, then, away from me and gave the quieting crowd of children behind her a look filled with sadness, “And along the way, we came across more and more orphans. It was as if Elora’s light was guiding them onto our path. Giving them a family when theirs was lost. I never forgot your words, either. That you could think of no way to save them save for adopting them all.”

She turned back and looked into my eyes, a pleading look, “When the King’s men found us, I lied. Elora forgive me but I lied. I told them you had adopted all these children. If they felt umbrage, to take it up with you.”

She paused, as if expecting a rebuttal, and then starting speaking as if I had given one, despite my silence, “Lord Fargus, I know you cannot adopt all these children, not even the greatest among us could care for so many. But I beg you not to turn us away. Elora will help us find a way, I swear it! Please, please have faith.”

Beside me, I heard Count Wilchrest sniffle. When I glanced over, there were tears falling freely from his face. He met my eyes, and we both came to the same conclusion without speaking a single word. With a slight nod of my head, he turned and began barking orders towards his soldiers, assigning two per child. For my part, I graced the nun, with a contained smile.

Her face brightened, and a look of immense relief graced it.  I imagine if I were steward for five hundred children and someone relieved me of that task, I would feel similarly lightened. I returned to my carriage before I had to face any overabundance of praise or thanks, prepared to once again consider my placement of couches in the sitting room. It was unlikely we would be traveling further today, given the condition of our additional travelers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend time among them at the moment.

So, it came to me as a complete surprise when there was already someone inside the carriage. A boy of maybe twelve winters was fast asleep, curled up on my bench. I pressed my lips together, before turning back around and heading towards where soldiers and children were greeting each other. While I couldn’t do anything for their injuries or hunger, I could possibly tell a tale or two to entertain them for the rest of the day.

Chapter delayed

Hi!  Wasn’t happy with today's chapter so it'll be coming a later today than normal.

Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 35

I took one final look at the commotion around my tower before I departed. Pyl had arrived and was assigned, with the help of the two witches, to resolving the growing numbers of the undead. In his typical fashion, he was thrilled at the opportunity to research more types of naturally occurring undead and I could only tip my hat in understanding the thrill that came with exploring new magics.

While I could have easily destroyed the monsters, I didn’t necessarily feel the need to do so if they could be contained. I even allowed him to recruit Jax and Philipe to create rooms within my cellar to trap and contain the undead he brought back down for further research. He was especially excited about a skeletal fish he had found, and I myself was interested in seeing his analysis of the monster.

Kine and Rhela were busy leading assorted villagers and a few of my guards in rounding up the refugees scattered throughout the forest. Even a couple of the dwarves assisted in the matter, much to my surprise. I was surprised at the lengths they went to in order to find them though, spreading out and searching through the woods. I would have simply used an illusionary beacon and waited for them to arrive, but being thorough was one of the things I appreciated about my former assistant.

Satisfied that they had it well in hand, I took to the air towards Eiston. It seemed that I had been there not long ago, and the route was more than familiar to me. I saw no further evidence of goblin attacks along the way, though the burnt husk of the Farmwell’s former home hadn’t been touched.

I didn’t stop at the gates to the city this time. Rather, I flew over it and directly towards the gates to the Eiston castle. The castle itself was a large hay-colored stone building that had seen better days. It was smaller in size than one would imagine for a city of this size, as if built before a growth in population. That I estimated was even before the population boom from war refugees who I had seen sitting in alleys and street corners looking for work or begging for food.

There were two newer towers of a different construction on the right side, a reminder of the damage done by the first Pestilence when it had struck here. Large cracks, too thin for anything more than insects or perhaps a rat could be seen coming up from the foundation.

Guards, well armed and armored patrolled the keep, and six stood guard in front of the main gate diverting traffic away. I had made it here in a timely fashion, so it was still early afternoon and I didn’t envy those guards wearing heavy armor in the heat. They must have expected me as well, given that they didn’t draw weapons or fire arrows as I floated down before them. Rather, one guard left through a small doorway to the sides of the main gate while their leader, a woman wearing a cloak on top of her heavy armor and a plumed helmet stepped forward.

“State your name and business,” she said in a loud neutral tone. No emotion crossed her face as she spoke, either, and I felt it a mildly impressive display of discipline. It also made me wonder how often they had dealt with wizards dropping in from the sky. Was it a common occurrence here? If so, I would need to arrange a more stunning entrance.

“Wizard Nemon Fargus, answering the Duchess’s summons,” I said with a contained smile.

Some emotion flashed across her brown eyes, though I wasn’t certain what it was.  Her face hadn’t moved and it was gone so quickly I thought nothing more of it. Perhaps a dawning of recognition or something to that effect. Regardless, the motioned to a guard beside her who saluted.

“[Guard] Diter will guide you. Pleasant day,” she said, and immediately returned to her station.

I glanced at the guard, though it was difficult to make out the difference between him and the others when only their faces were displayed. In fact, if it weren’t for his thin yellow mustache and the fact he was motioning for me to follow, I wasn’t sure I could tell them apart.

The small doorway led directly to the inner bailey, with more soldiers training for battle in loud clashes of sword against shield. Some fools shouted their skills before using them, as if announcing a skill gave it more power. My guide didn’t slow at all as we walked towards the main doors. In fact, he seemed to walk faster through the courtyard.

I followed with steady dignified steps, much to his annoyance. I had already flown here faster than a horse could ride, and I wasn’t about to be rushed by a simple gate guard unless an attack was underway.

Inside the keep presented entirely different than the outside. The entrance room was a long hall with two guards. A chandelier with cut emeralds sparkled among sunlight that came from a stained-glass rooftop window. It seemed an affectation of the king’s castle, though the stained glass was in simple patterns and not as fanciful as the mural there. The walls were pained a light blue that went very well with the columns covered in nacre that stood to either side. The floor was the same hay-colored stone as the rest for the keep, but a long white and blue carpet was placed along the center.

Paintings and sculptures hung on the walls in between each column, but my guide did not see fit to allow me to stop and view them. Instead, his armor clanked and jangled as he hurried across the entry hall. We walked through no less than three other rooms, including an enormous dining hall, before arriving at the Baroness’s seat. I could tell we were getting closer by the smell of death that hung in the air.

When we finally arrive at the hall, the doors were already propped open, and the hall was full. To either side stood several nobles and powerful figures from across Eistoni. The Duchess sat on one of two chairs at the end of the hall, wearing an elaborate frilly yellow dress. The other chair was empty, but on a table before her lay the corpse of her husband. The body still wore a duke’s enchanted armor, and from the multiple rends in it that displayed the gory mess beneath, the odor of death arose.

Around the hall, the other attendees stood awkwardly, with men and women holding scented cloths to their noses to disguise the odor. Two guards in full plate armor and holding halberds stood like statues at the end of each table. I stopped at the entryway to be announced, and subtle cast an enchantment against the smell as I stroked my beard.

“Presenting Wizard Nemon Fargus, Alderman of Lark,” the shrill voice called from somewhere inside the room but near the entryway. I crafted a smile as I walked forward towards the duchess. While her mournful gaze had been stuck on the corpse of her fallen husband, her eyes widened when they caught sight of me.

To the duchess’s left stood three different priests, one for each of the major temples within Sena. To her right stood several military men, high ranking by the uniforms they wore. All of their eyes followed me in silence as I walked forward in measure steps.

Indeed, many of the others throughout the room began to whisper amongst themselves. I almost grimaced when I realized that I hadn’t recast my illusion over myself and was standing before them in my true form. I had dressed in a very fashionable white robe enchanted to shimmer when struck directly by sunlight, an orange sash with a matching cylinder-shaped hat, so I knew I was dashing. The sash and hat were specifically chosen because they matched my eyes.

When I finally reached as far as was reasonably possible to attend the duchess given the table in the way, I stopped to give her a bow appropriate to her station. It was an odd thing, this, as it meant that I had to bend my shoulders and head in a manner that left me looking directly at the corpse of her husband.

While I no intention of replicating the corpse, it did bring to mind that perhaps I should leave a design or message on the floor of my tower's entrance. Something to consider later, alongside how I could obtain a shipment of nacre.

When I rose, I noticed the Duchess was studying me intently as were the others throughout the room. I recognized only a few faces. Baroness Nix was present, though she had painted her face in the way of noblewomen and stood silently. Baron Wilchrest, from House Shielding, also stood in the crowd, his sandy hair oiled down and his brown eyes distant. Even his upturned nose was now level with the floor as he held his head downcast.

“Alderman Fargus, your appearance today is different than that of when you reported to the king. I wonder if this is a mask or your true face?” The duchess spoke with a raw, scratchy voice. Despite her soft tones, the words echoed across the room.

Rather than answer her, I just smiled and studied the woman in return. She held a matronly figure, often the case when a woman births a child.  She did have several noble features that displayed a heightened station, the upturned nose, the unibrow, a cleft chin. When I had seen her in the king’s court she had worn a significant amount of powder on her face, but here I only saw the traces of that powder, traces which stained tracks along where her tears had once trailed.

Clearly, she was grieving the loss of her husband. I just hoped that the intensity I saw in her eyes was a sign of her passion or anger and not a sign of spiraling into madness.  That would be an unfortunate occurrence for these dark times.

She snorted and looked down towards her fallen husband then back up at me, “What say you for your part in my husband’s death?”

The accusation silenced an already quiet court. The members seemed as if they were holding their breaths. Though, I paid them little regard. Instead, I was surprised at the accusation itself, and my eyebrows raised to reflect that. With no small confusion, I asked, “My part in his death?”

She pointed a single finger directly at me, with little regard to feminine graces, “Yes, his death. You refused the king. The king withdrew his forces. My husband fell. The lines are clear.”

I pinched my lips together rather than immediately retort. The claim she made was so fallacious that I was surprised her servants hadn’t already talked her out of it. I thought it through and was certain if I had been more prepared for the accusation I could have voiced my response with more consideration, “Duchess Eiston, we are both aware that the only ones at fault for your husband’s death are Mirktallean. If you have a request of me, I implore you to simply ask.”

Her expression changed in response to my words. From one of determined self-righteous anger to a frown of outrage. Then she grimaced and I saw real pain in her eyes, a pain that I could certainly sympathize with. She returned to a more controlled expression quickly, with a small frown of disdain and a lifted chin.

“Master Fargus, I do have a request. I would like you to lead the remaining forces in defense of the duchy. I would like you to kill every single Mirktallean that sets foot over the border and then set fire to their entire country.” I saw the military leaders nearby stiffen in response to her words, and they didn’t look happy.

That didn’t stop her from continuing to speak, “What boon can I offer you that would sway your mind? Title and authority? I would name you Count of the western baronies. Riches? I will empty my coffers. In the King’s court, you requested couches. I have sixteen and you can have them all.”

She paused to take a deep breath and give me a meaningful look, “I will pay any price for justice.”