Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Epilogue

TALES OF THE SCROLLMAGE

A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure

by Andrew Karevik

Tales of the ScrollMage (Book 1)

Copyright © 2023 LitRPG Freaks

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Chapter 1

How does a dying god improve the life of an archivist? No, this isn’t a riddle or a joke; it’s the start of a very serious question. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Sorry, let me make the introductions first.

I’m Napoleon Lanceman of the Lanceman Family Dynasty. Perhaps you’ve heard of us, all the way out in the Mainland but I doubt it. So I hope you’ll excuse my detailed accounts in this chronicle, as I hope to elucidate you all on the kind of world it is over in the Dread Continent of Usiren.

Anyway, back to the question. How can the death of a god grant me immense magical powers? Well, it’s a secret but since I’m feeling generous, I’ll tell you. There is power in his blood.

Arithane is the last of the gods, a great mountainous man with a body like gravel and flesh of stone. He once walked the lands and sat upon the mountains themselves, holding court and giving judgment. Now he is carrion, pinned to the very thrones he once rested on.

Mankind had enough of the gods one day, as the legend goes. Eight ambitious kings, representatives of every kingdom from sea to sea, rose up and made a pact with a demonic power, forgoing humanity’s connection to divinity. The many horrific demons in the world, devils and fiends, the greatest known as Principalities, received a deal. They would be free to reign on the mortal plane, as long as mankind was granted power within their own blood. Man would be free from depending on the gods for magic.

It was said that long ago man needed the gods in order to use magic. Clerics were required to perform great sacrifices and rituals, chants and spells in order to get the favor of the gods. Many times, wealth and power was required to be given to the churches, which only seemed to grow hungrier and more corrupt.

Man languished underneath the yoke of the oppressive gods and the even more oppressive clerics who imposed their views on the world. Rebellion grew in many hearts and when the demonblood entered the eight kings, everything changed. They had magic of their own and could wage war on the gods as they pleased.

These eight kings, becoming Principalities unto their own, started great families that dispersed the bloodline. A noble Lanceman, a mounted knight, was among those who received the gift of the demonblood and he had twenty sons. Each of them, at the age of 24, manifested their first powerful spell and went on to become sorcerers at the Great Academy.

Well, each of them except for the last. That would be myself. I failed to manifest anything at all. Thus, they tossed me into the Archive at the Great Academy, telling me that I was best forgotten, like the rest of history.

It was here in the Archive, my new home, that I spent the rest of my life dedicated to learning how to get around my innate lack of magic. History was full of stories of the old ways of magic but there was never anything concrete. But I found the answer in blood, just not my own.

Arithane is the last of the gods, that is for certain. He lays across the mountains, blood slowly draining from his wounds. His eyes do not open. He makes no sound. The powerful stake in his heart, a great prismatic crystal conjured from of demonic sorcerer, continues to kill him. Mankind might have lacked the power to outright slay the deity but their collective hatred will do the job. Some day.

For now, his blood pours down the Grandview Mountains, mingling amongst the rocks and oozing onto the ground at various river banks. Many believed it to be cursed or dangerous. But few were brave enough to actually bottle the liquid and test it.

And what did those tests reveal? Well, I’ll be more than happy to tell you in a few minutes. For you see, I had painstakingly procured my own bottle of Arithane Ink. It wasn’t easy to find on the black market, nor was it cheap. I didn’t have access to the family fortune anymore; without magic I wasn’t a Lanceman to them, so I had purchased it with the very last of my funds.

But my studies had led me to one inescapable point. Something that I believe almost everyone else missed. The ink contains mana! And that mana can be used to cast spells. No internal generation required; no need to make a pact with a demonic fiend for power (as was the custom for those who were truly desperate). If my theories were correct, one just needed to write down certain magical formulas, circles and incantations, along with the magic ink, in order to create a Scroll.

This was what I had been working on right before the great interruption that derailed my career and started this whole affair. I was testing out my first scroll design, carefully using the jet black ink from the bottle to create a magic circle on parchment.

It was late in the night at the Archive, but I didn’t mind it so much. Despite having a glass ceiling for allowing the sun in, the cloudy skies of Aetherton never relented. I could see redness on the horizon above and the throaty rumble of thunder suggested a storm was on its way. I liked storms, the rain pattering against the roof as I worked in silence, tending to the archives. But this one seemed a little more ominous.

I stood at a lectern, focused on the paper in front of me. The finest of parchment had been acquired for this, Yoak Paper, as it was known. With a trembling hand, I dipped my quill into the ink and took a deep breath.

“This is my path back to magic, back to the world outside,” I muttered as I brought the nib to the paper and began to carefully scratch away.

A loud thunder crash pulled my attentions upwards for a second. The entire Archive, that old musty building, shook violently as the thunder sounded. “This would be thematic if I were doing anything with a lightning spell,” I mused as I returned to drawing the magic circle. My hand was steady and calm now, moving with ease as I focused.

The blood of Arithane, that strange ink, responded to my foci and began to meld into the—

Crash!

Above, the sound of glass shattering tore my attention from the scroll. As lightning struck, something had destroyed my sunroof. Six ropes unfurled from the top of the ceiling, small men hanging from them as they slid down.

“What the devil?” I started to shout but I was suddenly under a hailstorm of crossbow bolts. The men were firing at me!

I took cover behind the lectern just in time, the bolts going thunk, thunk, thunk as they embedded into the thick wooden podium.

“This is an Archive! It is a library for whoever’s sakes!” I shouted as I squished my entire body inward so that nothing was exposed to crossbow fire. “Just take whatever book you want and go, I’d lend it to you anyway!”

A strange squawk, harsh and metallic, barked out. “Spread out and kill the man. Retrieve the asset.”

Kill the man? There was only one person in this Archive and he was me! I’ll be damned if I got murdered over some books…but what was the asset they were looking for?

I didn’t know what to do. I was no mage, no fighter and certainly no sorcerer. Just a man with a bottle and a scroll…well, time to put theory into practice!

Chapter 2

I pressed the paper against the base of the lectern, furiously scribbling on it with the remaining ink I had. Fortunately I had grabbed the bottle before diving for cover, saving the most expensive thing in this room.

I didn’t have time to think about theory or complicated ideas. All of my simple plans went out the window as I scribed a magic circle with the Principle of Fire and Explosion within the center. Hopefully this would work, otherwise I was dead.

“Flank him,” someone shouted. Footsteps were rushing towards my position. It was now or never.

I popped up and thrust the scroll forward. Reading it was a snap, it took no time. As I spoke the eldritch words, the lines on the paper began to burn bright red. In a flash, ink burst into flames and the next thing I knew, a funnel of pure fire was pouring out of the scroll itself.

Yelping, I turned the scroll towards my encroaching foes. The six little men, gnomes from the looks of it, were heavily armed but lightly armored. They tried to leap out of the way of the flame but it was burning in a huge, endless column that engulfed all of them.

“Sorry!” I shouted as they were burned to a crisp, their screams impossible to hear over the sound of the scroll releasing all magic. “Truly, I am but you forced me to fight back!”

The spell would not end. Soon, fire spread everywhere and I began to panic. I tried to tear the scroll apart but it was too strong. The magic of the ink had reinforced it. The damn thing fell to the ground and unfurled itself, pouring out a beam of flames straight up into the Archive itself.

“No!” I cried out in vain but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The flames were scattering everywhere, consuming the vast books and records within seconds.

I had more ink! I could undo this!

Quickly, I grabbed another parchment and got to work, coughing as the smoke began to billow in. Another magic circle, this time the element of Ice would be in the center. An ice explosion. Let’s hope it works!

I raised the new scroll and activated the spell. Instantly, a flash of white energy pulsed out of the paper, washing over the entire area. All flames extinguished, leaving billowing white smoke everywhere. The temperature dropped by thirty degrees and I began to shiver extensively, the sweat soaked clothing I was wearing doing me no favors.

“I-I’ll be damned if it didn’t work,” I said, looking at the charred but mostly safe book collection. There were a few losses, of course, but the Archive was safe. For now.

“What happened?” I asked as I looked around at the ground. A loud metallic squawk replied.

“Persimmon, status report?” the voice called out. It was coming from the body of one of the gnomes.

At first I thought he was alive and responded, but only upon growing closer did I realize he had something strange on his hip. In fact, the entire outfit of the gnome was strange. Far more foreign to me than anything else I had seen.

The short man was in a black tunic, wearing a hood and goggles. A bandoleer of knives was wrapped around his chest, though he wore no actual armor. On both hips were holsters for hand crossbows; his had been scattered around somewhere else.

On the man’s utility belt was an array of potions, daggers and a single square stone. It was a thick block with a rectangular line carved in the center. The line was red and contained a jewel of some kind, thin and carefully cut to make a Magic Square. This was a Voxi Box, a gnomish communication tool.

The voice was coming from the square. “Report?”

I lifted the strange thing and spoke into it. “It’s done,” I said. “Rendezvous at the usual point?”

“Negative, change in plans. Meet us at the docks in Reinboldt,” the voice replied. “Burn the archive after you leave.”

I affirmed his order and then placed the Voxi back onto the ground. Were these things trackable with magic? I’d assume so. Gnomish technology was quite advanced in that way, and so I best leave it behind, no matter how novel or interesting it was.

The Archive was the target. As was I. They wanted to kill me and then retrieve an asset. But what was it they were after? I had no way of knowing. Well…I mean there was one way of finding out, ambushing the rest of the gnome assassins at Reinboldt. The only trouble was that Reinboldt was the next town over. And in Usiren you do not travel towns without a death wish. It simply isn’t done. Then again…my scroll experiments had worked. Maybe I’d be able to figure out a few spells to help protect me on the way…

Chapter 3

I’m assuming you’re from the Mainland, where things like demons and devils are far less worrisome than taxation and city ordinances. However, for the citizens of Usiren, a continent far from the powerful Principality of Imposed Order, the demonic are the primary concern.

Our land was cursed the worst when the gods were thrown off. Usiren had once been a prosperous port country, full of gleaming ships that could sail across the world at a moment’s notice. But when Vellois the Seaguard was destroyed, the oceans became home to vicious demons known as the Krakenfiend.

These horrific squidbeasts emerged from the various hells, now free to wander the waterways as they pleased. Any ship they spot they seize, ripping from the waters and lifting them high, playing with them like a child plays with blocks.

With the lack of ships coming to Usiren came starvation, war and constant changes in government until finally, my own bloodline seized control. The Lanceman family dynasty used their vast sorcerous powers to lay siege to the few holdout kings of the continent, forcing them to bow in submission.

To make the story short, the cities were reorganized. Great walls were placed around the four main cities within Usiren and anyone who was deemed a troublemaker was sent outside. To the land where the demon king Feship lurks.

Feship is a Power, that is to say one of the greatest forces of demonic presence in the land. Powers can do what they like as according to their agreement with mankind, save for two things. Powers may not enter into human lands without invitation and they must always obey the ruling Principality.

It is a shame that my great-great-grandfather was not a more rational individual. For you see, the Lanceman Principality is one of Exclusion and Misery. Those outside of the sorcerer’s club are treated as second class citizens, essentially slaves and chattel for the truly brilliant. Sorcerers are seen as better than human and enjoy some privileges with the demonic. The strongest of which are rewarded with ranks within the demon courts and the weakest are usually just enslaved.

You may be thinking the Lanceman lineage is some close-knit circle but there are quite literally thousands of us. I didn’t make the cut and thus was tossed to the Archive to serve out the rest of my existence in more or less obscurity. And yet this was merciful.

For you see, Feship’s influence outside of our city, Elantio, is ubiquitous. To walk even a foot outside of the city limits would be to invite the horrors of any demonic entity upon you. I don’t know how it is in the mainland but there’s a saying that there is no travel in Usiren. So imagine my stress upon realizing that Reinboldt was twenty miles away!

Yet, an attempt had been made on my life. Something precious was within the Archive, something that had these gnomish assassins willing to give their lives for it. And willing to take my own in order to preserve the secret. I was a nobody; there was no way they were trying to target me for my bloodline. I had already been humiliated before the entire academy. I had already been stripped of all titles and inheritance. I wasn’t being targeted as a Lanceman. Just the guardian of something unknown.

But what? The Archive was home to thousands upon thousands of books, periodicals, tracts and treatise about magic, all things that are no longer necessary. Trust me, I had been studying for months upon months, searching for an answer to having magic without sorcery or the gods, and the truth was not encouraging.

Aside from the wizards who are able to create staffs and such, something that requires tons of mana, there is simply no way to cast magic. The Archive held no answers. I had learned about the ink on my own, in secret.

Was I the target because of the ink? That would be nonsense. Who would know about my acquisition in the dark? I had been very careful, going into Elantio’s seedier district after dark, dressed in a hood and covering my face. The seller would have had no incentive to rat me out to any, as he was a local apothecary who had great prestige in the city. His name being attached to the scandal of selling illegal artifacts would be too much to bear.

How had I learned about the power of the ink? Theory, my friend. I had read stories about strange tribes who drank black waters by the mountains, tribes who wore many magical tattoos that seemed comprised of ink. How could these barbarian folk gain access to ink, something that required trade with the city? And furthermore, how could they use magic? The only answer could be that the blood from Arithane’s festering body was running down the mountain.

Acquiring a sample wasn’t easy because the substance was illegal for some reason. At least, illegal to my kind, people without magic in their bones. Perhaps the sorcerers simply didn’t want any kind of competition.

But even then, if I were in trouble with the government, I would have just been brought in by the city guard, lambasted and then tossed out of the city walls. They wouldn’t have bothered to try and assassinate me. Such a thing was reserved for somebodies.

There was only one way to answer the mystery of my assassination attempt and that was to do the unthinkable. I would need to leave my relatively safe haven and venture out onto the road. And quickly too, for the enemy may strike at me again, attacking my precious library once more. I couldn’t risk losing the Archive. It had too much knowledge to preserve.

Mankind had lost a great deal of information in the chaos that happened after the Great Uprising. Mages were killed rather quickly, as were clerics, and many secrets were lost as new people took power. Books were sometimes destroyed as relics of the past and on my own continent, Usiren they were gathered and sequestered away. The Archive of Elantio was the only source of open wisdom left, perhaps in the entire world.

And so I wasn’t about to lounge about and wait for someone else to come down to kill me. I ordered the local super to repair the broken glass, packed a light lunch for the trip and gathered as much parchment as I could find. I might be going into dangerous territory, but I wasn’t going to be unarmed.

On the contrary, I had learned some interesting things from the first application of my scrolls. The spells seemed to come out of the scrolls themselves, meaning that they were like wands in a way. I needed to aim them properly. And that was a bit silly. A scroll mage should be able to cast the spells from the paper and aim the energy wherever he pleased. I needed to figure a way to improve this.

Experimentation would be the only way to figure any of this out. There were no guidebooks on how to use scrolls, or how to produce them. This venture had entirely been my own theory. And so I would have to figure something out on the road, because I didn’t have the time to work out different ideas. The best I could do was make another Scroll of Flamethrowing and Frostwave. Here’s hoping these would keep the demons at bay.

Chapter 4

I departed in the early morning, wearing the red robes of a scholar, my hood up high to hide my identity. No one was going to fuss about me leaving the city but I didn’t want anyone to know the library was unattended. Who knows what manner of ruffian would muck around in there, poking at things they shouldn’t be?

But I had more than ruffians in the library to worry about. The guards standing by the gates, men in black clad armor that had spikes on the shoulder pads, clacked their weapons against the ground as I approached the gate. Without a word, the drawbridge began to creak and the gate began to pull up. The soldiers stood to the side, their faces blank and expressionless. No one said a word as I made my way out of the city. No one but a man at the end of the row.

“Son,” he said, reaching out suddenly. “Don’t do it. You won’t survive an hour out there.”

“Get in line, Felix!” a soldier shouted, prompting the man to snap back to attention. He gave me a sorrowful look, one that sent shivers up my spine. What were you getting yourself into, Napoleon?

But I had to press on. There was no other choice for Reinboldt was twenty miles away and waiting for me at the docks were more assassins. Assassins who could answer my questions. I had no allies to call upon in the city, no one to ask to come alongside me. I was on my own and therefore, I had to handle this alone.

I marched onto the road, watching as the red sky grew even worse. The magical shield of the city was gone and now I could see the world for what it truly was. A land of burning red air with clouds of black everywhere. What had humanity done to the world? I don’t know; this was all I had ever known. But I must imagine that things were far better than this once. That the air and land weren’t so hostile to mankind at every inch.

There was a great forest on my right, a huge sprawling wood full of red and orange trees. Every now and then, I heard a slight giggle, a hideous chuckle emanating from the trees, but anytime I looked there was nothing. The giggle followed me for quite some time. My nerves grew worse as the hours pressed on. Finally, I cracked.

“Come out then!” I shouted at the woods, raising a fist. “I’ve had enough of your games.”

I shouldn’t have stopped. It was a fool’s decision and I suppose I was the greatest fool there was. At once, tendrils came lashing out of the woods, bright red pieces of flesh that wrapped around my arms and legs, lifting me high into the air. I was slammed against the ground once, twice and then a third time, shattering a great deal of bones in my body.

The giggling creature laughed once more and tossed me hard into the woods, sending me careening into utter darkness.

Hours passed and eventually I realized that I was alive. Or at least, I was in a hell that was identical to the one I had been living in moments ago. A terrifying and strange thought to have. But the pain in my ribs was intense enough to convince me I was still alive and so I sat up, clutching my side and groaning.

I was lying beside a babbling brook of water, my face inches away from having landed in the water itself. Add another foot to my fall and I would have drowned for certain.

“Why did I do that?” I groaned, clambering to my feet. The pain surged through my body and my ribs informed me that I wouldn’t be able to do much of anything. I fell to my knees, gasping for air. This wasn’t good. I was in a dangerous forest, miles away from civilization and severely wounded. If I didn’t act quickly, I’d die.

I grabbed one of the parchments from my hip holster and pulled it out of the tube, unrolling it against the ground. I gritted my teeth as the pain surged through my body and I took out the quill and magical ink. Focus, Napoleon. Don’t let the pain get to you.

With intensity, I wrote the Principle of Healing on the parchment, followed by a circle that would unleash the natural healing energies to any in the area. Please work, please work.

I placed my palm on the center of the parchment, gasping in pain as I read the words aloud. In an instant, the circle appeared to glow green and I was washed with cleansing light. The pain was gone immediately, as if it had never existed. So clean was the healing experience that I didn’t even notice I had been healed at first. It was that thorough.

“I’m alive!” I said, leaping up to my feet and throwing a fist into the air. My body had never felt better; I think I had even cured my ingrown toenails!

As I steadied myself, I looked around. I was in the Ironwood Forest, a place famous for the Ironwood Render, a horrific creature that looked identical to a tree. When a wagon covered in iron would drive nearby, the Render would swing down with its massive jaws and rip the thing in half, devouring everyone or everything on the inside. It was said they only ate wagons, however, for the creaking of the wheels was what drove them to attack. Smart merchants covered their wagons with grease to quiet them as best as possible.

With that thought in mind, I carefully made my way through the woods, trying to make nary a sound with my boots. The giggling was gone now, replaced with the eerie silence of a place full of sentient, hungry trees. I swear I could see some of them even breathing.

The gods were long dead and so I could pray to no one for help during this attempt to find the road once more. I could only rely on my skills and abilities as an…archivist who barely got any sun. Don’t get me wrong, I was in fine shape, I relied on the latest fitness regimens to be able to traverse the great library but I wasn’t a hiker. The elements were unfamiliar and unpleasant.

A high pitched yelp caught my attention as I made it to an especially large rock. Quickly, I took out my pen and scratched a line into the stone to indicate I had been here before. After which, I bounded towards the sounds of the cry, for it was a human woman calling out.

“Agh!” the woman shouted. “Stay back! Fiendish things! I shall have the best of you yet!”

She was stern and angry, confident but falsely so. As I dashed towards the sound of her cries, there came the sound of snarling wolves, wicked beasts that were twice the size of a man. Through the woods, by a cavern with some rocks in the front, were two huge dire wolves. These creatures, with fur of grey, were twisted and contorted, their bodies jagged and bulbous.

Red and black lines ran down their fur, flashing brilliantly in a light show that pulsed from time to time.

Standing, cornered at the entrance of a cave, was a tall, pale woman covered in tattoos – and nothing else. She was naked, save for the multilayered series of tattoos that formed all manner of geometric patterns. Her right side was heaving heavily, however, as blood poured from a huge bite mark.

In her hand was a spear and she was half leaning against it and half pointing it at the wolves for defense. She was spouting something in a foreign language now, babbling faster than I could understand; perhaps it was a prayer of some kind. Not that there would be a point in praying; there was nothing that could be done to get the divine’s ears now. She’d be better off asking a devil for help.

Chapter 5

I was no devil but I was a decent person. I might not have the power to fight off wolves but I did have a few scrolls on me and enough ink to figure something out. These were stupid creatures, yes? I should just ward them off with a bit of light flashing. No reason to harm them and no reason to risk scorching that poor woman alive.

The wolves didn’t take notice of me right away and so I was able to drop down and scribble out a scroll against the ground, writing down the Principle of Light. It was getting dark enough to where a bright flash would scare these creatures off. I also wrote a scroll of ice, just in case.

“Hey, foul creatures!” I shouted as I leapt to my feet, unfurling the scroll and aiming it towards them. “Why not come after something with a bit of meat on his bones?”

The wolves turned around at this and immediately began to howl. They ran startlingly fast at me and seemed to grow three times in size as they ran. I tried not to panic when I realized just how fast a wolf could move and read the words aloud.

Instantly, three flares burst forth from the scroll, shooting forward in a spiral towards the wolves. They popped and crackled, exploding into flashes of bright lights that caused the wolves to snarl and hiss…and continue charging.

“Gods save me!” I shouted in a moment of idiotic piety, realizing I had time to only utter just a few more words before these massive beasts reached me.

No gods intervened but the wolves, eyes blinded and senses overwhelmed, continued running past me as I fell to my knees and covered my head as if that would help. They darted into the woods, howling and hissing angrily.

It took a few seconds for me to comprehend that I was safe. Soft footsteps approached me and I slowly glanced up to see the navel with a spider tattooed across it. I swallowed hard, glancing up a little more to see the top of the strange woman’s breasts. I was too distracted to notice the spear raised in her hand and I certainly wasn’t expecting her to thump me right in the head.

I was out like a light.

The blow from the spear knocked me down and the next thing I knew, the woman was pouring something into my mouth. I tried to fight her off but she merely said for me to calm myself. She was far stronger than I was, despite her wound, and I found myself fading off into a dark and dreamless sleep.

Was this the end of my story? Murdered by some woman outside a cave in the middle of the woods? I dreamt, perhaps, or worried, that everyone back home was speaking of my end. They were all mocking me for being so naïve. So stupid. So weak and magicless.

Their words burned so hard that I felt a great pain in my chest as I woke up. The pain was so intense that I winced, touching the incredibly raw area. The pain was worse when I touched the area, leading me to open an eye and inspect what manner of wound I bore.

But there was no wound. Instead, there were neat lines of black ink, cut into my flesh and carefully patterned in such a way that it would look that way no matter what. The lines formed the head of a….wolf?

“He rouses,” the woman said, approaching beside me with a bowl in her hand. She was still naked and seemed to care nothing of it. The tattoos covered the majority of her body but still, a woman was a woman. I couldn’t help but stare.

“You attacked me,” I said.

“You carried our sacred inks,” she gently replied, placing the bowl to my mouth. I eagerly drank the cool water. “It is forbidden for outsiders to have them. So I made you an insider.”

“Is that what this is?” I asked, pointing to my tattoo. It burned like hell. But it did look rather cool; the side profile of a dire wolf.

“Yes. It is my thank you, for rescuing me from those creatures. The inkdrinker wolves are growing wilder these days. I fear the time may be coming for a culling, either of us or them,” she replied, placing the bowl on the table and sitting beside me.

“Who is us?” I asked.

“We are the native people to Grandview Mountain, the Ginjari people,” she said. “We drink the ink of the dying god to gain his power.”

“I’ve heard you called Inkmads before,” I replied. “They say the consumption of the ink drives you insane.”

“Mere propaganda, an excuse to kill our peoples and take our inks,” she said. “Speaking of which, I fear that I was forced to use the last of your ink on such a tattoo. I could not help myself.”

“What? There was at least ten scrolls worth of ink in there!” I shouted, trying to sit up. It was painful to do so and the woman raised a hand to stay me.

“I assure you, the power within your tattoo is worth much more than whatever you call a scroll,” she replied. She placed a gentle hand on my chest and slowly pressed against the whole of the tattoo. It burned like hell at first but grew cold and cool after a moment.

Words appeared in my vision. Link Established. Mana Channel created!

“What the hell!” I gasped. “I saw words.”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled, dabbing my head with a rag. “Focus harder and you will be able to see more than just words.”

I focused. Three spheres appeared in front of me, each a different color.

Scrollmaster

Grants you daily mana to create scrolls

Allows you to access Scroll Feats.

Bookbinder

Grants bonuses for storing Scrolls in Books

Spellbooks increase Scroll powers.

Inkcaster

Grants new Tattoos each level

Increases Mana Generated.

You are Level 0. You have 0 XP.

“These spheres, what are they?” I asked, moving a hand up to harmlessly move through them.

“They are the areas of your latent potential,” she said. “The things within you that can become unleashed. They are different for everyone.”

“How do I unlock them?” I asked.

My new mentor smiled at me. “You must gather experience points. This comes from gathering more ink or by using your abilities to overcome situations. Now that you have a Mana Link, every action you perform can generate a considerable amount of energy. Your tattoo will capture that and convert it to excess power.”

“Like the old systems the gods used to give in way of blessings,” I said. “Words in the air, visions of things that were not there.”

“The Ganji people follow the old ways for a reason,” she replied. “And now I impart them onto you, as a thanks for saving my life.”

“You didn’t have to give me such power,” I said, slowly sitting up. “I’m just a nobody archivist.”

“Nobodies do not risk everything to save me,” she warmly said, bringing her face close to mine. I could feel the heat of her breath across my nostrils as our eyes met. There was a longing in her, one that I had never seen before.

“I must admit,” she said, gently placing a hand against my neck. “I’ve not been with a man for many years. Seeing one laying on my bed like this…”

She took my hand and brought it down to her lower parts.

“It may be a bit shameful,” she whispered as I felt her readiness. “But I would like for you to take me.”

“Trust me, my dear,” I said, gently kissing the side of her neck. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Then maybe there’s something you can do for me first, something that would earn us both what we want,” she replied, pulling free from me. Damn, I knew it was too good to be true.

“Ma’am, you don’t need to bribe me with sex,” I said, slowly sitting up. “I’d be more than happy to help you.”

“Bribe? No, incentivize your survival? Very much so yes.”

Chapter 6

Enoja was an intoxicating, exciting and incredible woman. As one of the sole survivors of the Ganji people, she was duty bound to keep safe and sound. She was unable to go out and search for others to bring her back to her tribe, as she was to return to the mountains in order to get more sacred ink.

The woman had lived in solitude for nearly ten years, the last of her allies slaughtered by ink poachers from the mountains. The secret about magical ink had been out, more or less, to various merchants, and so hunters and expeditions would come down from time to time to gather the blood seeping down from the mountains. They viewed the Ganji people as an obstacle to slay or a source of chattel for slavery. They were quickly slain or driven from their homes.

Enoja had overseen a few attempts to get their home back but one particular trading company, the Eastwind Wheel Division had mounted a severe defense of their favored inkwell, ensuring no one would be able to access the magic within.

That was my job now. Breach Eastwind Wheel’s fortress, steal some ink and then get the hell out of there. If I were able to do that, Enoja assured me that there would be great magical rewards for the both of us, as well as some other, extracurricular incentives.

And so, I departed from the cavern and made my way towards the mountain, being careful to follow the map that Enoja had given me.

The Eastwind Wheel Division had set up a large wooden fortress on the outskirts of the mountain. It was a strange place to put a fort, when you consider the tactical advantage of being in the middle of nowhere.

Above, in the mountains, I could hear the baying and screeching of hideous bat-demons as they feasted on the carrion of the dying god. Arithane was so great that he looked like part of the mountain itself, his immense form impossible to take in from the perspective of the ground. I shivered, not looking too long in case there would be some kind of adverse effect at looking at a damned god.

Eastwind Wheel’s fortress was impressive. It was a mighty wooden building with a tower atop it. In that tower was a perturbed looking crossbowman, a fellow who gazed down at the ground with an anxiousness that underscored the seriousness of the situation. But he wasn’t staring at me. Rather, he was staring at the group of rabble that was standing at the front of the gate.

“I told you lot!” he shouted, waving a finger at them. “Your pay is gonna be what it’s gonna be. Now don’t make me shoot one of ya!”

“We’ve every right to protest, Brook!” a man shouted from the ground. He was the leader of the rabble, a tall fellow wearing boiled leather armor. He carried a longsword at his belt and on his hip was a variety of potions that gleamed in the light. I wondered if perhaps those potions were protecting them from the demons above, for the horrid bats paid no mind to the dozen or so humans who were standing out in the open.

“Protest quietly, Lucas, and away from the gates!” Brook replied. “Before I start to load this damn gun.”

The two bickered back and forth for some time. I carefully sauntered up to the area, keeping my body low. The guard was too distracted by the protest to notice me. I was no spy nor was I a sneak, but I could blend in with a crowd. I trotted up to the back of the group and feigned pulling up my trousers.

“What’d I miss?” I asked one of the men who was shouting in protest. He didn’t seem to recognize me as an outsider.

“Nothing’s happening,” he grumbled. “No one here has the guts to do what needs to be done.”

The area seemed tense but the mercenary was right. The protesting group didn’t seem like they were ready to take any actions against the man armed with the crossbow. I, on the other hand, had no trouble picking up a rock and chucking it straight at the guard.

“Who threw that!” Brook shouted, raising his crossbow and hastily throwing a bolt into the chamber. He cranked the lever, drawing the bolt back so it was ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“He’s gonna shoot!” I said, summoning my saltiest impression of a guard. “Charge!”

This was all it took to break the crowd into a frenzy. The fear of getting shot mixed with the indignation over it was enough to get the people moving forward, clambering through the open gates. I ran with the group, getting lost in the crowd for a moment as they charged the ramparts, overpowering the few guards who weren’t joining in on their cause. I don’t know what the complaint was but I had certainly turned the argument into a fight.

Rabble Rouser! 150 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as I ran forward, causing me to do a double take. That had gained me experience? Amazing! I could see that I was only 850 points away from reaching level 1! Perhaps I should start a few more riots…

Before I could celebrate, however, there came the sound of an explosion up ahead. Several men fell from the tower, burnt to a crisp. In an instant, all combat ceased. A tall sorcerer emerged from one of the walls. He wore a black and red robe, armed with a scepter at his side and a wicked dagger in his hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” the sorcerer demanded as he snapped his fingers, causing several more men to fall to the ground, writhing in pain.

“You haven’t been paying us enough to guard a damn demon!” Lucas said, emerging from the tower, holding a small wooden box in his hand.

The sorcerer reached out at once, grasping towards the strange square. It was painted reddish brown and seemed inviting to look at. “No! The Puzzle Box is not yours to touch, fool!”

“Puzzle Box?” Lucas replied, looking at it and tossing the object in his hand. “A strange name. Either way, you were distracted long enough for me to grab it. Now, you’ve got a choice. Pay us our demands and get your box back, or watch me smash it.”

The sorcerer glanced at me, suddenly becoming aware of my presence. I was trying to find a place to sneak by and had incidentally ended up next to Lucas.

Stranger. Take the box and you will have my favor. The sorcerer emoted to me, his mind speaking in the standard telepathic speech of all House Bowlass.

Better the favor of a sorcerer than to be torched alongside the rest of these idiot mercenaries. It was one thing to argue pay, but to mutiny against a sorcerous employer? Surely no one would be that stupid…though I suppose I had been the one to incite such a thing. Still, they were protesting, they were prepared to fight.

I seized the box and took a few steps away from Lucas, raising my hand. “Easy now, everyone,” I said. “Let’s not do anything foolish.”

“What are you doing?” Lucas said, turning to face me. “Wait, who the hell are you?”

“Some security force you are,” the sorcerer replied with a laugh. “Letting this stranger in right under your nose. Consider your lives payment and let us conclude this matter.”

Having lost his only leverage, the mutineers quickly retreated back to their camp outside of the fortress. This left me alone with a sorcerer, one who seemed rather happy with my performance.

“I am Murtan Bowlass,” the sorcerer said as he strolled up to me, expectantly reaching out for the box. “And who would you be?”

“I am Napoleon Lanceman,” I replied, handing him the artifact.

“Ah, yes, the mule,” Murtan said, his expression darkening a little. It was unfortunate that my reputation preceded me. A mule was a rather crude term for one who was incapable of producing mana on their own…though I suppose that had changed now. Not that I was going to tell him, of course. Such a secret should be kept carefully away from the hands of any sorcerers.

“Am I so well known?” I grumbled.

“Bah, do not take it personally, our fate is determined by the strength of our blood and nothing more,” Murtan said, clapping me on the shoulder. “If you are too weak, then it is simply fate. Best accept it and move on. Speaking of which, what are you doing so far out here? This is no place for wanderers.”

What should I do here? I had not been counting on meeting a sorcerer in my journey. Such a person was exceptionally powerful and not the kind I could just lie to. His mental prowess could probably scan through me in the blink of an eye. I was completely at his mercy.

“I am seeking Arithane ink to experiment on,” I said. This was no lie, that was for sure.

“Few know Arithane’s power,” the man replied, narrowing his eyes. “What’s a mule like you mucking around with it?”

“I’m an archivist, sir, my job is to mess with ink and paper,” I nervously said.

Before the sorcerer could answer, an arrow came flying from the air, landing straight in his chest. He gasped and clutched his heart, falling back onto the ground as the box went flying from his hand.

“Holy!” I yelped, realizing that Lucas, from nearly 200 feet away, had fired an arrow perfectly, skewering the sorcerer. The man’s blood was spraying everywhere as he struggled to cast a spell. Nothing happened, however, and Murtan thrashed upwards, grasping my sleeve.

“Mule,” he wheezed. “Lanceman! The box! It must be delivered to a woman in Reinboldt. Do it, this I demand of you.”

And with that, he died, collapsing in a heap of the blood that supposedly made him better than the rest of us.

Chapter 7

“Pick this place over and let’s be done with it,” Lucas shouted as he walked past me, examining the rest of the camp.

I looked up at the mercenary, wondering what would be my fate. The man eventually turned to regard me, shaking his head.

“I don’t know who you are or why you grabbed that damn box, but you almost got us all killed,” he said. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t have you gutted and left on the side of the road.”

“Sorcerer mind controlled me,” I said. “Obviously. And I’m just here for work.”

“You aren’t dressed like a mercenary,” the man pressed.

“I didn’t say I was looking to do mercenary work,” I replied. “I’m just an archivist. I’m here to discuss business with your sorcerer. But now that he’s met his end, I think I’ll take my leave.”

I turned around to see several large men waiting for me.

“I wouldn’t be so fast,” Lucas said, walking up and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Seems you’re in a bit of trouble with me. But I’m not the kind of man to bear a grudge. Give me something worth my trouble and we can call it a day.”

I dug into my bag and produced a few pieces of silver. “This is my entire life’s savings,” I said. “Every last coin. I have no inheritance and do not even own the library I work in.”

“You work in a library? Lots of fancy books about treasure, I bet,” Lucas muttered. “Think we can kindly visit and take what we like?”

“As I said, I don’t own the Archive, I simply manage it for the Great Academy,” I said. “But please, help yourself to anything you like. I won’t report you, that’s for certain.”

Lucas laughed. “Surely you’re worth some money to someone?”

“They’d probably just request you to kill me,” I said. “For my brothers and sisters all look at me as a joke.”

“Why’s that?” Lucas asked, frowning.

“I’m a mule,” I confessed. “A man from a magic bloodline who cannot produce mana on his own. I failed to manifest my abilities at the right age and was thus stripped of all titles, prestige and honor. I’m a joke of a man, simply put.”

“That’s a miserable condition,” Lucas said. “I suppose your silver will have to do for now. But we’re coming for those treasure books. We’ll find something of value, I promise you that.”

“Thank you, sir, for your mercy,” I said, bowing a little.

“Don’t consider it mercy,” Lucas said. “Just…I know what it’s like to be kicked out of the family too. Us bad sheep gotta stick together.”

“Indeed,” I said. “Here, let me give you my card.” It might be handy to have a few mercenaries just hanging around the Archive in case those gnomish assassins show back up. I dug into my bag and produced my calling card, providing the address of the library.

The men returned to their looting and secured the puzzle box for their own. I was free to explore the area as I pleased. As long as I didn’t touch anything valuable, that is.

Fortunately, the treasonous mercenaries and I had different definitions of value. They dismantled all of the wood, taking the nails from the fixtures and all the gold they could get their hands on. What they left behind were the bottles of ink. They did not know their worth.

There were eight bottles total, more than enough to make up for the devastating loss of my first batch. With them was a large bound journal. Notes on Arithane Ink by Devon Valence, was the title. Interesting. They were handwritten and carefully bound, with notes in the margins by all manner of handwriting. It seemed the book had been passed around more than a few times. I cracked it open, curious to see what was within.

Initial studies of mixing sorcerer blood with Arithane Ink are not promising. The magic of the ink doesn’t correspond to the demonic power within the human bloodline. Therefore, I do not recommend the pursuit of using magical inks for anything worthwhile. However, from a purely academic perspective, I am willing to explain a few basic theories on how this ink can be utilized for magic and how one could even theoretically perform a series of spells that would rival sorcerer…

Book Studied! 500 XP Gained! Spell Learned! appeared in my vision as I flipped through the last page of the book, having skimmed through most of it. Immediately a new menu appeared in front of me, showing me a list of spells that I could choose from, all related to the book I had just finished studying.

Conjure Goblin: Summons a powerful goblin bowhunter to aid you.

Rune of Sealing: Traps a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Deflection Shield: Blocks all ranged attacks from striking you for 10 minutes.

Spike Burst: Fires a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

This was power! Power right at my very fingertips…I could feel the energy brimming within me as I selected Conjure Goblin. Immediately, the spell was added to a spellbook area within the Mana Sight. Perfect! What would have taken weeks of theorizing and testing was now immediately added to my mental repertoire!

Why Conjure Goblin? Simply put, I was no martial man. The world around me was a dangerous one and if I was going to survive, I’d need sheer, brute strength. And being able to summon a disposable goblin creature would be far easier than learning how to fight on my own!

I had to test this out. Using the newfound bottle of ink, I dipped my quill and began to work on the new spell. The tattoo within me burned as mana surged through my whole body, empowering the scroll as I worked on it. I could feel magic, real magic, moving in my veins as I worked, transferring power to paper.

The ink was a necessary component to making the scrolls but the mana from the tattoo allowed me to supercharge the paper. I was able to write three separate lines on the scroll, meaning I could cast the spell three times before the paper became too brittle to use.

“Demon!” a man shouted, running out of one of the nearby tents. He was throwing up all sorts of holy signs with his hands. “There’s a demon in there!”

Chapter 8

The entire camp cleared out upon hearing news of a demon within the tent. I, on the other hand, was too curious to leave the thing alone. I snuck up to the edge of the tent and peered within, seeing a great cage where a beast of a demon was resting.

He was a huge, squat thing with grey skin and a large, protruding skull. Two long horns ran from the back of his head and curled outwards. His expression was like that of a bored ape. He had four legs and rested upon his hinds as if he were a hound. I could see the bulging muscles within the creature’s frame; they were easily the size of my head.

“Greetings, mortal,” the beast intoned with a deep, throaty voice as I entered the tent, finally gaining enough courage to go within.

“Greetings, demon,” I said back, unsure of what else to say. I had never been face to face with one of these creatures before. Despite the fact that I had a categorical knowledge of all demon and devil types, my mind went entirely blank upon seeing this beast. Perhaps this was the power of the creature.

“It would seem my colleague is dead,” the demon continued. He shifted a little in his cage. The great iron bars around him burned with red lights as he moved, binding him to stay in one place. “And that is a great shame. For him. You, on the other hand, have a great opportunity in front of you.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

“Indeed. I am the Great Demon Pazu, Power of Flight. Murtan had a deal with me and it is one I shall offer to you. Bring the Puzzle Box to the Occultist Shelly within Reinboldt and I will guard you from the other demons that wander this realm. I will grant you the power to invoke my name and scare off lesser powers.”

I raised an eyebrow at this offer. “Why offer me the job?”

“Who else will take it?” he asked. “All flee from this place.”

“Then you should know that they are also fleeing with the Puzzle Box in hand, no doubt to hawk it for a price at a pawn shop,” I said, shaking my head. “It is lost.”

“Find it then,” Pazu growled. “And do my bidding. I shall reward you with the power to repel demons, a secret that not even the sorcerers know. You shall hold this gift even after you have finished the task.”

Now that caught my attention. If I was going to be able to make it to Reinboldt, a place now forty miles away if my geography was correct, I would need the ability to traverse freely. And there was no better demon repellant than another demon doing your bidding. These creatures respected one another in that sense.

Not all demons and devils worked together but there was a far greater professionalism between their races than mankind. We were ants and they were colleagues. Better to have one on your side to advocate to the others on your behalf.

“You wish me to free you from this cage?” I asked.

“No,” the beast said. “I am better off sealed away for now. Go and do as I have asked. All will be revealed in time.”

I did not linger after that. The presence of the demon was strangely calming, soothing to my mind as if it were meant to fall into a false sense of security. Part of me was keenly aware of this sedation effect and was panicking violently to keep me functioning. It was that energy that allowed me to leave Pazu’s lair, finding the camp completely empty and abandoned.

“Ah damn it,” I muttered, looking at the bootprints. News of a demon being hidden in one of the tents had scared everyone off, but all in the same direction by the looks of it. They had the puzzle box and with it, the power to call upon Pazu to repel lesser demons. Did I want to get involved in this mess? Part of me wanted to wash my hands of it but the other part, the one that was a curious archivist who wanted to know everything, drove me to make my way towards the bootprints.

I caught up with the group right as they made it to the mouth of the forest. There was no particular trail in this area and it seemed they weren’t interested in making a clearing either. They were rather focused on simply moving in between the trees, roughing it slowly.

One of the guards in the back, a tall man wielding Brook’s crossbow, aimed it right at me. “That’s far enough, pal!”

“Easy!” I said. “I’m just here to talk.”

“Talk from over there,” the man scowled.

“Calm yourself, Fritz,” Lucas said as he emerged from the woods, putting a hand up to stay his companion’s wrath. “We know this guy. What do you want?”

“I’ve been informed that the Puzzle Box needs to go somewhere important,” I said. “And I’ve been tasked with transporting it. I was wondering if you kind fellows would do well as to give it to me.”

Lucas produced the small painted square and tossed it in his hand. “This is magical, right? I’ll sell it to you.”

“Do you remember that demon you found in the tent?” I asked. “That box summons it.”

Lucas immediately dropped the thing and took a few steps back. “It does?”

The box clattered to the dirt, no worse for wear. Everyone backed away from it, except for one man. “Come on, don’t be afraid,” the fellow with an eye patch said as he picked it up. “If it summons a demon, it’ll be worth a fortune!”

“Not if that demon kills us all, Bob,” Lucas said. “Give it to the nerd and let’s get the hell out of here before it destroys us.”

Bob looked at the object and then at me. “We’re adding this thingie to our tab,” he threatened as he walked it up to me.

“Fair enough,” I said, grabbing the object and quickly tucking it into my satchel. I didn’t want to fiddle with it too much either, lest I end up accidentally summoning the demon and getting us all slaughtered in the process.

Chapter 9

With the Puzzle Box secured in my backpack, carefully wrapped in some linen to avoid it being readily identifiable, I headed my way back into the woods in order to find Enoja. I still owed her half of the ink bottles, that would be four out of my eight total. I had more than enough to share, especially considering the fact that the magic tattoo she had given me boosted my scrollwriting abilities significantly. I could write with a fourth of the ink required now, greatly enhancing the amount of scrolls I could make. Now if I could just get enough experience to get a level…

It seemed that the universe sensed my desires for adversity, for as I rounded a corner, I immediately dashed for cover. Six men, all dressed in gleaming silver armor, were gathered outside of Enoja’s cavern. They were wielding red tridents and carrying bundled up nets on their hips. These nets were designed to unfurl when thrown short distances, wrapping around anything the size of a human. I had seen these awful people before; they were part of the Imperial Cult of Brevan.

The Brevanites were a wretched class of people, the foulest of whom you will ever meet. Not because they are evil, mustache-twirling villains but because they are so deceptively kind. They appear to be a sort of clergy at first, offering food and vittles to any who need it. But if you are without home, they take you and ship you to their temples, where you are twisted with dark magics and brainwashed to serve only the Emperor of Brevan.

Brevan Thunderspear was one of the human Principalities, ruler of Lightning and Storm. A powerful man in his own right, Thunderspear wasn’t content with killing a few gods. He declared that he was indeed ascending to godhood and none could stop him. The creation of a cult wasn’t difficult, since many worshippers of the gods were left stranded and without hope. Switching teams was much easier than abandoning faith altogether.

The Emperor’s cult formed spontaneously at first, in several different cities in the continent but over time, they were collected by Brevan himself. The man was pleased at seeing his own cult grow and thus he gave them his stamp of approval, regardless of the horrific practices many performed. They say that the followers of evil gods were able to ascend higher in the clergy than those who followed good and thus the organization became corrupt and foul.

What were they doing way out here? The Bristlewood Empire was to the far east of us and my own hometown had kicked the Cult out a decade ago. There was no allying with these folk for they only wanted blind devotion to their emperor and the declaration that he was indeed a god.

“Come out, little flower,” a man shouted as he patted the net ball on his belt. “We won’t harm you.”

“The Emperor has chosen you for his new servant! You should be pleased!” another said.

“Let your impotent Emperor come out and court me himself then!” Enoja called from inside the cavern. Her voice sounded strained. On the verge of agony. Was she hurt?

Six against two wasn’t good math, especially when the Cult had access to all sorts of sorcerous weapons. The Thunderspear lineage had its namesake for a reason.

But…what about one against six? Quickly, I pulled the scroll of Conjure Goblin out from my hip holster and looked at it. I could cast this three times. No reason to show myself, just hide and let the beast take them down. Any stragglers could be taken out with my fire scroll.

As quietly as I could, I spoke the command words to summon the goblin. In the clearing leading up to the cavern, three golden sparks suddenly appeared, followed by a rift opening. The six churchmen all turned in unison, surprised to see the sudden formation of a goblin.

This beast was three feet tall but dense, almost three feet wide as well. It had black, shriveled skin and beady red eyes. The bowhunter goblin’s arms were lanky, with long talons jutting out of its elbows. Long cords with arrows attached to them hung from the goblin’s clothing but I could see no bow upon the creature’s person.

“Monster!” the leader shouted as he raised a trident. “For the Emperor’s Glory!”

The goblin let out a loud ‘skrawww’ sound as it grabbed one of the arrow cords hanging from its belt and immediately slung it around an elbow talon. The goblin galloped forward a few feet, lurching as the men ran to encircle it. As the goblin leapt in the air, he yanked the arrow cord back, using the talon to create tension. In an instant, he released the cord, whipping the arrow out of its sheath and firing it straight into the charging leader’s chest.

The arrow broke through the armor instantly and the man collapsed to the ground, gasping and coughing out blood. The goblin landed and snarled as it barreled into three tridents, ignoring the stab wounds as it grabbed one of the men and carried him into a nearby tree.

The entire oak tree creaked and cracked as the goblin embedded the man into it before scurrying up the side of the trunk, firing three more arrows in quick succession. Two men fell in an instant. One of the remaining survivors rushed forward and threw a net ball at the goblin.

The little sphere flew through the air and unfurled as the goblin leapt away. However, the beast was simply too big; the net snagged its legs and wrapped around them immediately, dragging the goblin to the ground.

Four men were down and only two were remaining. They both looked at the writhing goblin on the ground, unsure of what to do.

“Well, don’t just stare at it, stab it!” one yelled at the other, not moving forward himself.

“The Emperor damn you, you do it!” the other said.

Both argued for a short moment, ignorant to the fact that the goblin’s knee talon was ripping through the fabric. It carefully extracted itself in such a way that they weren’t able to tell the goblin was readying two arrows until it was too late. Two shots came firing up from the ground, expertly spearing the men in the head.

Both corpses hit the ground at the same time. They were dead. Cult Defied! 100 XP Gained!

“So much for the Emperor’s divine protection,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust. There was no reason to mourn these monsters, especially if they were attempting to harm Enoja. I just hoped that she was still okay…

I emerged from my hiding place in the woods, checking the area for any other signs of danger. There were no other cultists around.

A soft pair of blue eyes peered out from the cavern and I felt a thrill run down my spine as Enoja emerged, still nude and still beautiful as ever. She was bearing no wounds and was slightly crouched, carefully checking out the entrance. Once she saw me, however, she quickly dashed my way, leaping into my arms as she kissed me.

“Oh, Grayard,” she said as she wrapped herself around me, holding my tightly. “You are my savior. Again!”

“Grayard?” I asked.

“It means wolf,” she said, grabbing me by the collar. “Now come, quickly and show me your strength.”

I indeed became a wolf that night, taking my mate fiercely and quickly. Enoja was a hungry lover and excited to be with me, driving our passionate lovemaking without relent. I enjoyed her until the dawn finally broke, and we found ourselves intertwined, laying by the warm fire.

The woman was sipping slowly on a bottle of ink, her lips stained almost purple as she drank. Enoja hadn’t said much after our union. She merely lay on the cavern ground in bliss, letting me stroke her long, shaggy hair.

“You are an experienced lover, Grayard,” Enoja said finally, interrupting the long silence.

“I was betrothed, once,” I murmured.

“In love?”

“No, but happy nonetheless,” I admitted. The memories stung me so bitingly hard, it was almost like it had happened yesterday.

“You must tell me, my wolf,” she said, scratching a line in my chest with her nail, agitating the tattoo a little. “What sorrow befell you?”

I sat up and stared into the flames. “What’s it to you?”

“Do not be like that,” Enoja said. “I wish to know more about you, that is all.”

“My book title would be Nothing but Promises and Disappointment,” I replied after a minute. “That’s my life story. My father was one of the greatest sorcerers in all the land. His family was large and his children plentiful. But he was an aloof man and cared only for those who showed as he called it ‘promise.’

“Promise always changed. You had to constantly gain his or his wife’s approval in order to display ‘promise.’ If you did something to upset him, you weren’t showing any promise.”

Enoja frowned. “Seems that the goals were ever-changing.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “But I was gifted and smart. Well-read because I didn’t care much for horseplay and such. I was a serious man from a young age, I suppose. Most of my brothers and sisters were jealous but since I wasn’t very outgoing they didn’t have much opportunity to voice their dislike of me. But my father was thrilled with how much ‘promise’ I was showing and I beat all other competition. I was set to join the Great Academy and betrothed to the most wonderful Anna Lively.

“Anna was a beautiful woman and smart too. I think I would have fallen in love with her given enough time. I would have certainly been happy with her as my wife. And I think she was really happy with me, in truth. There were no concerns.”

“I should think not after what you showed me last evening,” Enoja chuckled as she lay in between my arms and nestled against my chest.

I squeezed her tightly, enjoying the feeling of a warm body against my own. “But then…the fateful day occurred. My confirmation in front of the Great Academy, the Manifestation Day…it was a disaster.”

“Manifestation day?”

“There comes a day in every sorcerer’s life when their mana finally manifests and they are able to cast spells at a whim,” I explained. “We then join the Academy where we are taught how to harness that power for the benefit of ourselves and the city. This is how one becomes a sorcerer, you see. But my gift did not manifest on the day it was supposed to. Nothing happened. I couldn’t make so much as a spark.”

“Why is that?”

“They say talent skips a generation. I guess I was the generation to skip,” I grumbled. “Or maybe I was cursed. Or lazy. I don’t know. They said many things to me but one thing was clear. I was a disgrace to the Lanceman family. In one afternoon, everything was taken away. My inheritance, my title, my scholarship and grants…even my fiancé was pulled from my arms. I was told not to bother with reproduction for my children would forever be bastards…it was awful. No one, and I mean no one stood up for me.”

“My poor wolf!” Enoja said, wrapping her arms around me and giving me the hug I had so desperately needed on that terrible day. “Why did you let them treat you so badly?”

“What could I have done? For the longest time I was convinced there was something personally wrong with me,” I confessed. “Hell, I was grateful when they gave me that position at the Archive, even though it was more like a sentence than anything else.”

“I will not treat you like a bastard,” Enoja said. “Stay here and be my wolf. I will be your Queen and rule you kindly.”

“Afraid I’m not one for monarchies,” I replied. “Though…I may visit.”

Chapter 10

I emerged from the cavern, eventually. Enoja was a kind and wonderful woman, one I would be happy to settle with for a short period of time. But she was a wild woman, one who wasn’t interested in the ways of a society with walls, books and clothes. I was as domesticated as they come. I don’t think she’d find me very interesting once the sex became routine.

My goblin was still waiting for me. The great creature was only three feet tall but was built like a barn. The wide creature stared at me, watching with its red eyes.

“Can you understand me?” I asked.

It shook its head yes.

“Are you a rational thing? Can you think and reason?”

There was no reply. Not even comprehension. The goblin merely stared at me emptily. “Let me try something,” I said, walking behind the beast. Upon the goblin’s back was a small metal brace, perhaps designed to keep its armor together. I grabbed onto the brace and pulled myself up, putting both feet onto the grooves of the creature’s armor.

The goblin did not react to me climbing onto its back. The short beast was easy to see over but he was more than wide enough to carry me without a problem. “Can you get me back to the main road to Reinboldt?” I asked.

My mount spun around immediately and began to bound towards a tree. I held on tightly as the beast clambered up the tree trunk, digging its claws into the bark with ease. My stomach lurched as we went higher and higher, until we were finally at the top. From here, I could easily see the road. Half a mile to the west.

“Great, let’s go doooowwwwwnnnnn….” I shouted as the goblin leapt from one tree to another, taking us nearly forty feet across the air. I clung to the beast for dear life, praying that the damn summon spell wouldn’t expire while we were in midair. But the spell held and the goblin went from tree to tree like a monkey.

We landed in the road, cracking the pavement as the goblin sprinted towards Reinboldt. At this pace, we’d be there in a matter of hours.

Riding on the back of the goblin was awkward but fast. We covered a tremendous amount of ground, not stopping once. A few demon bats swooped down to attack but the goblin was faster than them, allowing us to maneuver out of the way with ease.

Eventually it reached midday, where the red sun seemed to be at its highest. The heat of the day grew worse and I found myself sweating a storm. Humidity built up rapidly as we moved across the barren landscape until the heat was so bad I was no longer sweating. This was not normal weather…not in the least.

Ahead, I spotted the threat immediately. A huge creature was moving across the land; he was a demon of some sort. He was humanoid, with a mighty upper torso that stuck out of the ground. The rest of his body appeared to be submerged beneath the earth. The land tore itself asunder as the great red beast moved, caring not for what he did.

Accompanying the great demon was the burning heat that seemed to encompass everything around me. Before I could instruct my mount to steer clear of the creature, a great fireball rose up from the demon’s head; a great gaping maw with jagged black teeth. The ball flew towards us with remarkable speed and accuracy.

The goblin was fast enough to grab me and toss me to the ground before the flames consumed him entirely. I couldn’t help but feel sorrow as my companion evaporated in a golden mist. Summons were conjured things without minds or reasoning but I had still regarded the goblin favorably. Even his last action had been to preserve me above all else.

I suppose there would be time to eulogize later, for the Burning Demon was roaring, threatening to slay me where I stood. But I had a secret weapon against demons, the power to invoke a greater power than my own!

“In the name of Pazu, leave me be!” I shouted, raising my fist towards the creature. My voice seemed to echo through the great plains ahead of me, but the demon merely snickered.

“Pazu is not here,” he growled in a deep, guttural voice. Before I could do anything, a great fist came slamming down, wrapping around my torso and lifting me high in the air.

The giant’s fist was firmly wrapped around me but I found I could wriggle downwards, finding space in between his immense hand. This gave me enough room to dig in my bag, frantically searching for the Puzzle Box.

I found it just in time and quickly popped the lid open, hoping that it would do something. Pazu had told me to only open it in an emergency and I think this counted!

A loud screech above caused the entire earth around me to shake.

“Who dares defy the name Pazu?” a voice called out. Immediately, the hand began to crush me as hard as it could. I pushed my fists out, desperately fighting against the crushing force.

“You have no jurisdiction in the plains!” the demon trying to kill me shouted.

“Release him this instant!” Pazu’s voice called from above.

“By your command,” the lesser demon snickered, tossing me to the side like I was a sack of potatoes.

I could see Pazu’s form, in that of a great windy shadow, moving across the landscape. It did not regard me as I plummeted to the earth, however, and set about laying siege to the fire demon. “How dare you!” Pazu screamed, his winds consuming the burning demon in an instant.

The energies melted together but I couldn’t see much, as I was too busy hitting the ground with a sickening crunch.

I landed on my right leg, hard. Everything cracked and for a moment, the entire world went black. I had passed out, only for a few seconds, so bad was the pain. When I recovered, I was able to get to my feet, running forward to who knows where. The adrenaline was coursing through my system steadily enough to allow me to push past the agony in my leg, though it got worse and worse as I ran.

Eventually, I found my vision almost completely faded. The humidity of the area was gone, however, and I couldn’t hear the sound of the fire demon any longer. I slowed down, panting for air while limping forward, trying to keep my composure.

“Friend!” a man said, suddenly appearing before me. He caught me as I stumbled to the left, propping me up on his shoulder. “Easy, easy! You’re safe.”

“Demon chasing me,” I muttered.

“I saw that! Don’t worry, we’re close to safety,” the man said, gently helping me forward.

“I’m trying to get to Reinboldt,” I said.

“Yes, Reinboldt…we’re right on the edge of it,” the man replied. “Come on, let’s go to Reinboldt, shall we?”

Chapter 11

Danced with a Demon! 250 XP! appeared in my vision as I slowly woke up. A great flash of light swirled in my eyes as the words Level Up! also materialized. The brightness was an assault on my senses and it caused me to stir slightly.

Burning pain in my right leg prevented me from sitting up any further. I was hurting. The fire demon must have thrown me at least forty feet in the air, and such a fall must have obliterated my leg. It was a miracle I was still alive at all, though I suppose I should thank that kind citizen of Reinboldt for saving me.

As I came to consciousness, I became acutely aware of a slathering sensation against my leg. Opening my eyes more, I realized there was a man, dressed in ceremonial robes of gold and silver, painting my leg with a thick, purple salve.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to fend him off.

“Easy, friend,” the man replied. “I’m just applying a salve to heal you. You were seriously wounded. We barely revived you.”

“Oh,” I said, sitting back and allowing the medicine man to continue his work. “Thanks for the help.”

“Do not thank me yet,” the man muttered. “Just stay still and allow the leg to heal.”

With that, he stood and picked up the whole bowl of salve raising it above his head. Before I could ask him what he was going to do, the stranger tilted the whole bowl so that the liquid splashed my face and ran down my chest.

I coughed and spat out the foul liquid as he continued to douse me in it. I tried not to fight back but it was a strange thing to do. I had never heard of a salve that needed to cover the entire body. Perhaps it was paranoia but something felt off. Maybe it was the fact that it was awfully silent outside for being a city of a few million people. Reinboldt was not a small place.

“Where are we?” I asked.

The man said nothing, finishing up his task of dousing me in silence. He tossed the bowl to the side when it was empty and walked out, slamming the door behind him. That didn’t seem good.

The pain in my leg was brutal, I couldn’t stand or sit fully up. The salve didn’t seem to be doing much of anything. But perhaps it just needed some time to work. Best rest and try not to stress myself out too much.

I turned my attention to the level up sequence within my Mana Vision. I was quickly greeted with a series of options and choices to make. There was plenty of reading material to keep me distracted, that was for certain.

Choose Your Specialization!

(You may choose the others at a later time!)

Scrollmaster

Grants you daily mana to create scrolls.

Allows you to access Scroll Feats.

Bookbinder

Grants bonuses for storing Scrolls in Books.

Spellbooks increase Scroll powers.

Inkcaster

Grants new Tattoos each level.

Increases Mana Generated.

Scrollmaster looked the most promising for right now. I had plenty of ink to use and the more options I had when it came to making scrolls, the better. I selected the option and watched as a new series of bonuses appeared in my vision.

You are now a Scrollmaster!

You may Scribe up to 3 Additional Times per Day! You gain 2 Scroll Feats!

Choose 2 Feats. (You gain 1 Feat each level.)

Extra Spells: Gain 3 New Spells.

Scroll Shield: You may use any magical scroll as a Magic Shield, blocking any number of attacks for 30 seconds. This destroys the scroll in the process.

Rebounding Spell: If your spell is deflected, it rebounds towards the enemy anyway.

Fast Scribe: Once per day you can make a scroll in less than a minute. This scroll can only have one charge.

Extra Charges: Scrolls gain 1 additional use.

Activation Mark: Adds an Activation Mark to a scroll. By touching the mark, you activate the scroll without needing to cast the spell out loud. Only you may use the Activation Mark. You may only have one at any given time.

What a plethora of options! I liked the Extra Spells immediately, as I did Fast Scribe. Scroll Shield, however, seemed to have the highest level of utility out of the bunch. Being able to defend myself with any scroll at a moment’s notice was vital to survival. Hmmm, how about Fast Scribe and Scroll Shield? Two high value, utility feats that I would certainly get the most out of. Plus, I’d be able to make a healing scroll as quickly as possible. That would be nice, considering how much pain I was in.

I made the selection and was immediately greeted with more choices.

You gain 2 spells for reaching Level 1!

Select from below:

Rune of Sealing: Trap a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Deflection Shield: Block all ranged attacks from striking you for 10 minutes.

Spike Burst: Fire a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

Crystal Arrows: Create 5 Crystal Arrows that pierce all armor. Must be fired out of a bow.

Stonewall: Raise a 10 foot wall of stone.

Hypnotic Sphere: Create a sphere of energy that hypnotizes all who gaze at it. Especially effective against humans.

Fireball: Create an explosive ball of fire that strikes a target up to 300 feet away.

Stone of Enlightenment: Create a Stone of Enlightenment. While wearing this stone on your person, you gain Mental Clarity, resisting all psychic and mental attacks.

Conjure Skeleton: Summon a Skeletal Warrior to serve as your aid.

Journey of the Moon: Teleport 1 mile in a random direction.

A rather…eclectic selection of choices. These certainly eclipsed the usual magical missile and such that the Academy preferred.

Fireball seemed to be the best choice for my first selection. A classical ability and far more precise than the flame column that I had access to. Not to mention the range! I would be a veritable warmage with such firepower!

As for my second selection, Stonewall had more than just combat application. It could be used to raise a passage beneath my very feet. The power to shape the land would be quite useful while on the road. And in the city? Why, ten feet was wide enough to block any alley! I could escape my foes with ease!

I selected the two spells and watched as my finalized character profile finished, appearing in front of me, nice and neatly. It was fascinating to see the totality of my abilities listed before me.

Name: Napoleon Lanceman

Level: 1

XP: 0/1,500

Ranks

Scrollmaster: 1

Bookbinder: 0

Inkcaster: 0

Feats

Scroll Shield: You may use any magical scroll as a Magic Shield, blocking any number of attacks for 30 seconds. This destroys the scroll in the process.

Fast Scribe: Once per day you can make a scroll in less than a minute. This scroll can only have one charge.

Spells

Uncontrollable Fire Column: Release a burst of flames in a twenty foot radius. Burns for ten seconds without end.

Healing Burst: Cure all damage in the body and restore it to its best health.

Frost Wave: Freeze everything within a 30 foot circle up to 100 feet away.

Conjure Goblin: Summons a powerful goblin bowhunter to aid you.

Fireball: Create an explosive ball of fire that strikes a target up to 300 feet away.

Stonewall: Raise a 10 foot wall of stone.

Scrolls per Day: 2 + Ink Available.

Charges per Scroll: 1 + Ink Available.

I read my sheet a few times, proud of what I had become. My entire family may have abandoned me but if they could see this, I’d like to think they’d be proud too. Though, it was painful to even think of them.

Speaking of pain, my leg wasn’t feeling much better. In fact, it was just as numb and painful as ever. The salve didn’t seem to be working. I suppose it was time for me to use a scroll instead. Best grit my teeth and bear sitting up…wait a second, where the hell was all my gear?

Chapter 12

Too late I realized that all of my stuff was missing. I was still wearing my clothes and my backpack was hanging against the wall, leading me to think I still had my belongings. But upon checking the bag, I realized everything was gone. The Puzzle Box, my ink, my pens and scrolls, all gone. Damn it all!

I collapsed onto the ground, the pain in my leg too great for me to bear. They had robbed me? Or worse yet, they were planning something far worse. I staggered up to the door, climbing up a table to get to the handle. Locked. Damn it, this wasn’t Reinboldt. My head felt hazy, almost like I was drunk but less pleasant. The salve? Or was it just from the injuries I had sustained?

I leaned against the wall and pressed my eyes against the wooden beams, trying to see outside. Where was I? What did they want me for? Why was I so naïve as to think complete strangers out in the wild would take me in and help me? Had I not heard the hundreds of horror stories of cannibals and madmen?

Most of the windows were shuttered but there was a small sliver in one, a chip from wind damage that allowed me to peek outside.

I was in a village of some sort, a small and spacious place. There weren’t many people around, maybe six or seven, and they were dressed in the same golden and silver robes as the man who had been tending to me. I had the benefit of height for it seemed I was up on a hill, allowing me to see down into the center of the valley.

There was a huge, eggplant-shaped creature laying on the ground. It had purple skin like a vegetable but at the head of the plant was a massive pair of human teeth. They clattered and chattered endlessly, salivating and snapping at people as they walked by. A demon from the looks of it. But not restrained…it looked as if the people were preparing some kind of feast.

“Oh damn it all!” I moaned, realizing that they were preparing a feast. A great spread of vegetables had been laid out on a giant, human-sized platter. This wasn’t a healing salve I was covered in, it was some kind of unguent meant to make me more palatable to their sacrifice. Or maybe it was just seasoning!

Either way, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight! I scrambled through the small room, desperately searching for something I could use as a weapon. The pain in my leg was overwhelming but the desire to survive was even stronger. I had come this far, I wasn’t about to die yet.

I flipped a long table over and fell onto one of the legs with all my might. This cracked the leg off and I pried the thing off, twisting it hard to ensure it would have a jagged edge. “This’ll do,” I said, swinging the leg in the air a few times.

Leaning against the wall beside the door, I waited, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. Just don’t think about the pain, Napoleon. Think about something else, like that hideous, mostly mouth demon outside.

The door rattled as someone unlocked it. I readied the table leg. There was a creak as the door swung open. A woman entered, carrying a small vial in her hands. I slammed the door hard and thwacked her good in the skull, sending her careering backwards into the bed.

“Stop, I yield!” she yelped as I swung the club towards her face, aborting the attack at the last moment as I realized she wasn’t resisting.

I leaned against the table leg, wincing hard. “What is that thing out there?”

“Aphenedes,” the woman said, covering her face with her hands. “Please don’t harm me. I’m just a slave.”

“That potion, you were going to give it to me to knock me out?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s a poison that kills all feeling,” she said. “Your death would have been painless.”

I swiped the bottle from her hand and uncorked it. I poured most of it out, leaving only a small amount. This may be a bad idea but the pain was unbearable. A little numbness might not be a bad thing.

Against my better judgment, I took a sip of the liquid, feeling the bitterness spread across my tongue as I downed a little of the draft. Instantly, a sense of warmth washed across my entire body and the pain in my leg subsided considerably. I felt sleepy but the adrenaline of the situation was more than enough to keep me awake.

“That’s good stuff,” I said, tossing the bottle onto the ground. “Where’s my gear?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a slave,” the woman repeated. She was useless. The numbness spread through my right leg more and I felt better. More able to walk.

“Well, if you can run to freedom, I’d encourage you to before they feed you in my place,” I said, walking up to the now unlocked door. Each step felt better and better. Either the poison was killing me or working perfectly. I didn’t care which at this point.

Opening the door gave me a better view of the village. There were about six huts scattered about, with one right across from me. This particular hut was larger than the others, with enough space for one or two more rooms.

I hurried across the landscape, doing my best to avoid being noticed by anyone. The slave woman chased after me, keeping at my heels.

“Where are you going?” she hissed. “Run away!”

“I need my stuff,” I said. “Scrolls and ink.”

The door across from us opened and the medicine man who had treated me emerged. He stared right at me in surprise. “How did you—”

I threw the leg right at him, chucking it as hard as I could. The club turned into a missile and soared through the air, nailing him right in the face and knocking him against the doorframe. He fell to the ground, out cold.

Improvised Javilineer! 150 XP gained! appeared in my vision as I staggered over the unconscious man’s body to get inside of his hut, retrieving my weapon.

The woman followed me into the room. “That was the chief! He is the only warrior you have to worry about in the village,” she explained.

“Some warrior,” I replied, surveying the hut. It was a large office with a desk in the center, filled to the brim with papers. Among the stacks of parchment were my scrolls and ink. It looked as if they were being dipped into, quite literally!

“Guard the door,” I ordered as I staggered over to the desk and knocked most of the papers off the desk. They appeared to mostly be historical records, torn from books for some reason. I didn’t care, I was in too much pain to focus on anything other than scribing a scroll.

The slave woman dragged the chieftain into the room and then barred the door shut, peering out the window to keep an eye out for anyone. She was certainly decisive when it came to joining my side, that was for sure. I just hope I could get us out of here alive.

Chapter 13

Fast Scribe lived up to its name. Everything happened so quickly that I could scarcely process it. One moment I was unfurling the paper and readying the ink, the next I had written out a magical formula. My handwriting was not only faster but the methodology of the spell was different. The mathematics were cleaner, the formula sharper than ever.

I finished the scroll in less than a minute, raising it to the air and reading it out loud the moment I finished scribing. Magical energies wrapped around me and I was healed in an instant. The fog, that terrible cloud around my mind, faded instantly and I was back to my prime.

“Thank goodness,” I said, stretching my leg out. “I’m free of pain.”

“Can we leave now?” the woman asked, looking at me. Now that I wasn’t in a hurry, I could take a good look at her.

She was in her mid-thirties, with long brown hair and a dirty, pockmarked face. The woman was gangly and tall, with very little meat on her bones. She wore a simple silver robe that covered her from head to toe. There were no chains on her, however, save for a collar around her neck.

“That collar,” I asked, unfurling another scroll and dipping my pen in ink. “Is it magical? Are you bound?”

“No, it is simply to mark me as cattle,” she said. “Someone is coming, be quick with your work!”

I hurried as best I could but I had already used the Fast Scribe ability for the day. My next one would be a normal paced scribing of a Fireball. I was going to come out blasting.

Fortunately, the woman had raised a false alarm. The stranger passed by without causing any trouble, leaving me to work in peace.

“How far are we from Reinboldt?” I asked as I wrote the last line of the fire sphere. The way these spells came to my mind was much better than simply learning them on my own. Each time I wrote a magical verse, it was like the idea was freshly researched. No wonder sorcerers were so damn powerful!

“Six miles,” she said.

“If you can take me there, I’ll see to it that you are looked after,” I said, finishing up the scroll. Fireball was complete and ready to be used. I decided to keep only one charge per scroll, to avoid wasting excess magic in case I needed to use the Shield Scroll ability.

“Very well,” the woman replied. “I am Alana, by the way.”

“Napoleon,” I said, writing the next scroll, this one of Stonewall.

Alana looked at me for a moment and nodded. “It is nice to meet you. I’m sorry you were captured, but I’m glad that we have met.”

“So what’s the deal with your village? You feed the demon in exchange for safety?”

“Yes. Times have been hard and he has devoured most of us. But there is nowhere else to go, for Reinboldt will not allow strangers and foreigners in,” she said. “So we simply wait for our turn.”

“A miserable and fatalistic approach,” I commented, finalizing the spell. These were rather easy to write and took only five minutes each.

“What else can we do? I do not want to die on the road,” Alana replied. She gasped suddenly. “Oh no! Something’s happening outside!”      

I grabbed my scrolls and hooked them into the holster on my hip. The canister holder was a fancy gadget that stored up to five scrolls at a time. They were pressurized; pushing a scroll down into the holder caused the mechanism to click into place. Then, when I needed to retrieve it, I just clicked the top of the canister and the scroll would pop up. Now that I had some scrolls to outfit it with, I could set the device up to rapidly retrieve any spell at a moment’s notice.

Once my scrolls were secured, I gathered the rest of my things, found the Puzzle Box and then headed to the door to see what Alana was talking about.

Out the window, I could see that the demon was screaming about something. His massive gleaming teeth chattered as he shouted. “I’m tired of waiting! It’s feeding time! Time to feed!”

With that, the huge pair of jaws lunged forward, towards a group of men and women who were too slow to flee. They screamed as he devoured them in several gnashing bites.

“He’s distracted, let’s get out of here,” I said, opening the door and slipping out. Alana followed after me.

We rushed out of the hut and towards the main road. I could hear the demon screaming obscenities as he devoured as many people as he could, too distracted to pay any mind to two people fleeing in the distance. Alana and I ran for what felt like miles before we finally slowed down to catch our breath. But even then, it was still a few miles before we dared to even look behind us.

Escaped the Mouth of Hell! 200 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as we reached a hill leading up to Reinboldt. I was already up 350 points, and level 2 wasn’t that far off. If I kept running into trouble at this rate, it would be a matter of days until I ranked up.

Alana pointed down the hill, at the large city. “I see safety! Finally!”

“Don’t jinx it yet,” I said, gazing down at the majestic city of Reinboldt. It was even more magnificent than the guidebooks had led to me believe.

Reinboldt, also known as the Center of Society in some circles, was a major power unto itself. Founded by Hallock Crossbolt, the Principality of Manipulation and Control, the city was built as a bulwark against both demon and god. For a hundred years, the great city was able to maintain its independence, though recent political shifts had begun to show the hallmarks of change.

Namely, the Imperial Cult had managed to get its hooks into the city by getting a Senator appointed. Reinboldt had eight senators, each tasked with a different sector of the city and charged with ensuring everyone within the walls lived in peace and harmony. In theory, anyway. The truth was that Reinboldt was full of corruption, thievery and murder. For a price, anyone could pay off a judge, or so they say. Getting in good with a Senator was a way to ensure you were immune to most laws, as they had the power to pardon anyone they liked.

With the Imperial Cult having secured a seat, this meant that any cult activity could more or less be pardoned by the senator at will. This was essentially a sanction on all Brevanite cruelties, including kidnapping and brainwashing. Such a state was alarming, to say the least.

Still, in spite of the spread of the Brevanites, Reinboldt was a financially successful city with a commercial center, plenty of hospitals and a booming sorcerer academy. They weren’t illustrious or skilled as the Lanceman lot but their brute force and ability to snipe with magic at a range made them formidable in the battlefield. Let’s just hope their city was willing to take in two strangers with a sob story and a strange box of secrets…

Chapter 14

The walls of Reinboldt loomed above us as we approached. In the distance, I could see the waters of the Pomic Bay. The docks encircled the bay, filling the waters with fishing boats that peacefully enjoyed the bounty of the sea. The waters in the bay were relatively undisturbed by demons, perhaps due to the efforts of Reinboldt’s government, or maybe due to the presence of one particularly voracious demon that kept the others at bay. There were rumors of an uberkraken hidden within the bay, but that was just a myth from one particular tome.

More of my assassins would be waiting at those docks. Waiting for a party who would never come. They had the answers I so desperately needed, answers as to why I was the target of assassination. I just needed to take care of Alana’s wellbeing first.

The slave woman wasn’t particularly chatty or full of personality. She followed along quietly enough, speaking only when spoken to. There was a battered air to her and I wondered what manner of horror she had been through. I resolved to take care of her as best as possible, to ensure that she was fed and looked after for the rest of her days. Hopefully I could find a hospitality establishment that would take my credit. I was certainly good for it, I had the power to produce scrolls now. I could sell a few here and there for a great deal of coin.

We approached the gates of the city, only to be blocked by a pair of guards who were armed in full plate mail. They wore heavy visors over their heads, hiding their faces. At their sides were long polearms, halberds that could hack downwards or thrust forward. A versatile weapon for fighting both man and demon.

The gates were open but the long polearms clacked together as they crossed in front of us. “Halt,” the guard on the right said. “State your business.” His words were slightly muffled but he did not raise his visor.

“Scroll sales,” I said, pointing to the case at my hip. “And sojourn from a brutal trip.”

“Beat it,” the other guard replied. “Before we beat you.”

“Come now, gentlemen,” I said, putting my palms out. “Surely you wouldn’t deny two weary travelers a bit of safe passage? We mean no harm to this city.”

“Have you coin? Show us your wealth,” the guard on the right demanded. “Come on, out with your silver and gold!”

I gritted my teeth. “A smart traveler doesn’t keep his coin on him.”

“Then how do you intend to pay for anything, begging? Begone!”

“Come now, I am not a beggar,” I said, though there was little I could produce to show them the contrary.

One of the polearms came shoving towards me, forcing me backwards. I got the hint and backed off, moving out of earshot from the guards. My face was burning with both embarrassment and anger; I was half tempted to sling a fireball straight at them. But alas, I was not one to commit manslaughter over some hurt feelings.

“What are we to do?” Alana quietly asked as I seethed. “It will be getting late soon.”

I glanced around the wall. “How tall do you think that wall is? Twenty feet?”

Alana shrugged but I didn’t wait for her answer. I decided to walk circumspectly for a bit, scoping out the entire wall. There weren’t many guards on the ramparts. If I used the Stonewall spell beneath our feet, we could boost up to ten feet. Then I could hoist Alana up the rest of the wall and she could toss a rope down.

We waited for the evening to come in before we attempted such a daring feat of sneakery. Using my new scroll, I chanted the spell upon the ground, animating it immediately. The floor beneath Alana and I burst upwards without a moment’s hesitation, carrying us ten feet into the air, right beside the castle wall.

“Quickly now,” I said, putting my hands together to give the woman a boost. Alana quickly scurried up and with my help leapt up the side of the wall. She then tossed the rope down to me, tying it to one of the parapets before giving me the okay.

My muscles strained as I pulled myself up. My goodness this was way harder than I had imagined. But I was strong enough to keep going and I hoisted myself up to the top where Alana was waiting for me. The woman reached over and grabbed me, yanking me over the edge of the wall. I tumbled onto the floor but quickly recovered.

“Stay down!” Alana hissed, pulling me right back to the floor before I could stand up. A guard was walking on the other side of the wall, his torch raised high. Ahead, we could see a trap door.

Carefully, we crawled across the city wall, making it to the trap door without incident. Alana slowly opened up the door to reveal a stairwell leading down into the wall itself. The guard on the other side wasn’t moving from his post, meaning there was one way to go: down.

We took the stairwell into the wall passageway, descending several floors before reaching a long corridor that opened up into the city itself. A single guard was walking the streets, whistling as he carried his torch high.

Reinboldt was huge! The streets were wide and full of buildings on both sides. Houses were stacked on top of each other and chimneys puffed out smoke as the fires warmed the occupants within. The roads were made of cobblestone and wound up and down throughout the whole city.

“This place has to go on for miles,” I said as I hid behind a column, avoiding the gaze of the solitary guard as he patrolled the lonely streets. It was too dark for him to see us and no one was around. Sneaking about was far easier than getting in.

We made it past the guard and into the main street where there were no patrols. Most of the stores were closed but a tavern at the end of Harbrook Street had the lights on and music playing. We could hear laughter and song, verse and feast as the people ate and drank. The most wonderful smell of freshly baked bread came wafting out of the tavern as someone staggered out, the doors swinging as he wandered out to take a piss in the street.

“So hungry,” Alana murmured.

“Hang in there, let’s see if we can get something to eat,” I said, entering the tavern.

The bright lights and warmth of the building were a welcome change from the drab and cold exterior of the city. We were greeted by a buxom lass immediately. “Welcome to Norm’s,” she said, smacking her lips together as she chewed on a root of some kind. “Take a seat where you like and I’ll get to you when I get to you.”

Quite the introduction! We sat at the bar, where a large man with charcoal skin was cleaning a glass. He was missing an eye but sported no eye patch, instead opting for all to see where it had been gouged out. He snarled as I sat down.

“You Imperial?” he asked.

“No, goodness no,” I said. My emphasis caused his tension to break and the big man smiled at me.

“Glad to hear you don’t like ‘em either,” he said, pouring me a glass of something indeterminable. I wasn’t about to question a drink, however, and sucked it down before I realized I had not the means to pay for it.

“May I have some water?” Alana asked.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” the bartender replied, pouring her a glass from a canteen. “You’re strangers, yeah?”

“Not too loud,” I said, “but yes. I’m from Elantio.”

“That’s a far ways from here,” the man replied, shaking his head with a grin. “How the hell did you survive such a trip?”

“You wouldn’t believe it but it involves quite a bit of ink,” I answered, laying my head on the bar for a moment. “Are you the proprietor of this establishment, by any chance?”

“Nah, that would be my girl, Irene. She’s upstairs. Why?”

“I would like to work out some business with her, regarding my companion and our lodging,” I said.

“That sounds like fancy talk for you can’t pay for the seats your asses are occupying,” the man replied, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Easy, Bagley,” a calm woman’s voice said, piercing our conversation. Appearing from behind the bar was a short woman in a black suit with white little buttons studding the sides of it. She kissed Bagley on the neck and sat across from me. “I’ll handle the vagrants. The name’s Irene.”

“Napoleon,” I said, shaking her hand. I would have kissed it, if not for the fact that the imposing gentleman beside her was clearly her lover by the way he was handling her. Either that or the employees here were quite friendly with one another.

“So, Napoleon, how can I be of service?” Irene asked, snapping her fingers at the waitress. The woman brought us a basket of bread. Alana looked at me, as if she needed my permission to eat.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not in charge of you,” I said.

The woman quickly grabbed a loaf and began to devour it. I was much more restrained, for a few seconds, before I ended up wolfing down a chunk of bread as well. I was far hungrier than I had been letting on, but Irene didn’t seem offended by my hunger.

“Please, eat, it’s on the house,” the woman said, grinning at us as we worked on our meal. I got the sinking feeling that I was making a deal with the devil here but I didn’t care. The bread was warm and the liquor was cold. This place was a nice slice of heaven from the hell we had been through.

Chapter 15

Irene walked alongside me as we strolled through the garden in the back of Norm’s. It was a quiet area, blocked off from the rest of the city. It was surprising that she could even have this kind of space in such a crowded place. The land must have cost a fortune to purchase.

I had explained the whole of Alana’s situation to the woman. The establishment owner listened intently, without saying anything the entire time. I found the longer she was silent, the more I spoke until eventually I was repeating myself. Finally, she raised a hand to silence me.

“I suppose I can feed and lodge her for a few weeks while you attend to your business,” she said. “But I need something from you first. No doubt you’ve realized I’ve been buttering you up for something.”

“I’ve noticed your generosity has been a bit, unbidden,” I said, sitting on a bench across from a bed of roses. Irene sat on the edge of a potted plant across from me.

“You’re a stranger to the city, and that’s what I need more than anything, an unfamiliar face,” Irene explained. “Someone who can blend into a crowd and gain some information for me. If you can get me what I need, I’ll take care of your friend as long as you want. Food, beverage, lodging, anything she likes.”

“What kind of information?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. This sounded suspicious and potentially dangerous. I didn’t want to end up in any further trouble than I was already in.

“Corporate espionage of the highest level,” she said. “My rival has perfected a moonshine recipe and it’s driving me absolutely mad. He’s stealing my customers and worse, I have to see his smug logo everywhere. Moonstriker Shine, that’s what he calls it. If you can get me the recipe, I will give you pretty much free rein here. Call this your home for all you like.”

“I’m no thief,” I replied. “I am a gentleman and a proper one at that.”

“Ethical question time, is it wrong to steal bread to feed someone?” Irene asked, wagging a finger in my face. Before I could answer, she cut me off. “Because that’s literally the situation here! Except you’re not stealing bread, you’re stealing information that will generate me lots and lots of bread. And hopefully drive my competitor to end his miserable life! Hah!”

“Good gods, what did he ever do to you?”

“Norm? Oh that bastard left me! With a baby and with a shitty tavern that was going nowhere! Now ten years later, he’s suddenly decided to become a tavern owner again and this time he makes a killer recipe! Now everyone is going to him and Norm’s is suffering once more! All because of that bastard!”

“Wait, Norm the tavern is suffering or Norm the person?” I asked, half antagonizing the woman. The desire to steal the recipe suddenly made a lot more sense.

Irene shook her head. “This is no laughing matter. Norm knows this whole town but not you. Get in, find a way to steal the recipe and get out.”

I rubbed my forehead. “This is a fool’s endeavor, madam, and I won’t be a part of it.”

“I’ll throw in ten gold,” she said. “How’s that?”

Damn…money would be nice to have. I could hire a few muscled mercenaries to accompany me to the docks. Ten gold could buy an entire tavern’s worth of fighters…and I suppose Norm’s new place would be where I could potentially find them.

“Well, your vendetta seems a bit personal and almost justified,” I said. “Almost. Fine, I’ll take the job. Bread for bread, as it were. Just take care of Alana.”

“I’ll treat her like the child Norm abandoned,” the woman sarcastically replied. “His tavern is eight blocks over, in the western end of the city. It’s called The Starrise Cafe.”

I confirmed with Alana that she was to be fed and given lodging, as well as some fresh clothes before departing to my new destination. This was a ridiculous venture, stealing a recipe, but Irene seemed quite serious about the ordeal. Perhaps this Norm fellow would be easy to handle.

As I made my way down the dark streets, there came a rattling down one of the alleys. I glanced over to see an elderly man, shriveled and blinded from the ravages of time, carrying a shaker in his hands. The beans within the shaker rattled as he walked forward, searching for something. Even though he was blind, his eyes clearly silvered, it was as if we had made eye contact.

“Young man,” the fellow said as he approached. “Would you like to have your fortune told?”

“I’ve no coins, I’m afraid,” I replied.

The old man approached me anyway. “No need to worry about payment,” he said. “No, I sense something interesting about you. Yes, something fascinating.”

Was this a grift? If so, it was an amusing one. I put my hand close to my valuables as I allowed him to press his hand against my face.

“Ah yes…I see…” The man abruptly grew silent. He dropped the shaker from his hand and staggered away from me. “O-oh no! No! Stay away from me! Stay the hell away from me!”

And with that, he fled from me at top speed, dashing down the same alley he had emerged from. I tried to call after him, to tell him that he had dropped his instrument but he was long gone. What a strange occurrence. A shiver ran down my spine as I pondered what this meant. Was this the theatrics of an old drunk or a portent of something much worse to come? Maybe there was a reason the gnomes had been targeting me after all.      

Chapter 16

The Starrise Café was open late, true to its namesake. This tavern wasn’t particularly large, at least not when compared to Irene’s shop. The storefront was attached to a large building that had many other businesses, all of them closed. It was a rather metropolitan area and I was impressed with the development. If not for the Archive, I could see myself living in a place like this.

I entered the café to find a spry old man behind the counter of a bar. “Welcome to Starrise,” he said. “I’m Norm, what can I getcha?”

“Ah, just the man in question,” I said, sitting down across from him. “I hear you make a famous moonshine. Is that the case?”

“Aw, famous?” Norm said, feigning to accept the praise sheepishly. “Hardly. It’s just a concoction I came up with once.”

“Well, I’m a poor man but I was hoping to get just a taste of your delicious drink,” I said. It would be a good idea to sum him up by acting as if I were wretched. “Would you be willing to give a sample?”

Norm frowned. “If I give you a sample, I’d have every bum in this city coming to me for a free taste.”

“And then they’ll all be begging twice as hard to afford their own bottle,” I said. “Sounds to me like you win in that arrangement.”

The man rubbed his chin and chuckled. “You’re quick of tongue, I can see that. What’s your game, friend?”

“Scrolls,” I said, pulling out one of my magical parchments. “I’m a salesman who’s come on hard times. I could use a stiff one to handle what I’ve been through. Care to make a trade?”

“Magic scrolls, eh?” Norm asked. He grinned. “You know, I’ve got some Imperial friends who are always looking for good firepower. How’s about you and me do some business together? I’m not gonna buy the scrolls but I’ll happily pass the word on to those crazy cultists. They’ll buy your wares, wholesale.”

“And we can celebrate with a drink?” I asked. This wasn’t a bad arrangement. I could just sell the scrolls and buy lodging elsewhere for Alana. Irene’s wasn’t the only tavern in the city that could look after her. I had far more important things to worry about than scrambling around.

Norm took out a bottle of murky black liquid. “Here we go, one shot of moonshine, courtesy of the house,” he said as he poured a small glass. He slid it over to me and I looked down to see a familiar color. It looked almost like ink. Arithane ink?

“Say, what is your recipe?” I asked, lifting the cup high to inspect. The light seemed to avoid shining through the glass.

“That’s a secret, if I told you, everyone would be using it,” Norm replied. “Come on, bottoms up.”

If this was Arithane ink, then consuming it would have an adverse effect on me. People couldn’t drink the stuff without getting sick in the mind. At least, that was what we were all told. Inkmad was the phrase…but Enoja had been far from insane. Still, why would this magical ink be inside of this man’s booze? Was I being paranoid or had I noticed something vital?

“Arithane ink,” I whispered, leaning forward as I put the glass down. Norm’s weathered face went pale as a sheet.

“How the fuck did you know that?” Norm gasped. “Are you some kind of savant?”

“Lucky guess,” I replied. “Isn’t this stuff dangerous?”

“Everything’s dangerous, alcohol is poison,” Norm shot back, crossing his arms. “This ink has a potent numbing effect. I add just a drop of the stuff and it turns my moonshine into something truly addictive. My customers keep coming back in droves and I’m making money hand over first.”

“Look, I’m no health inspector,” I said. “But aren’t you playing with something you barely understand? What if you get all these people killed?”

“A few drops of ink per bottle isn’t going to kill anyone,” the barman said.

“That is a very unfortunate thing to say,” a voice behind us interjected. A man, dressed in leather armor and carrying a hand crossbow had entered the establishment without either of us hearing him. He was followed by three burly fellows wearing black hoods and carrying thick, metal pipes. “For it will very much so kill anyone who sells it.”

I swallowed hard at the sight of these men. They were Imperial from the looks of it, though dressed more to blend in with the local population. What gave them away was the symbol of their supposed lord and savior, Brevan, used as belt buckles and clasps on their cloaks. They had no real jurisdiction in the city, this I knew well enough, but with the Senator in their pocket, we were in trouble. Well, Norm was. I was just a random customer complaining about his booze.

I quickly grabbed my scroll and shoved it into the canister, carefully grasping the Conjure Goblin one, just in case. The Imperial Cult was unpredictable and terrifying. My heart was in my chest as I looked at the captain, who seemed to enjoy the fear on both of our faces.

“Now, forgive me for eavesdropping,” the man said as he approached the lone shot glass on the counter. “But I heard you mention there was ink in this?”

“No, we were just ribbing each other,” Norm said. “He said my stuff tastes like ink. That’s all.”

“I don’t think so,” the captain laughed. The man was a chilling fellow, tall and proper, walking with a command in his step and keeping his hands behind his back at all times. He leered too, constantly. His strange and off-putting grin swung towards me as we made eye contact. “You are free to leave. This will be a messy affair.”

“Come then, I’m just settling in for a nice evening,” I said, against my better judgment. I didn’t know this Norm fellow but it seemed unsporting to leave him in the clutches of the cult. It would certainly solve Irene’s problem but not in the way she would want. At least, I should hope she was so decent! “Can’t we just relax and take the night off?”

The captain smiled even wider at that, now happy to have two playthings in his clutches. “You hear that, fellows? He says he wants us to take the night off. Does our beloved Emperor ever rest?”

“Never!” the goons in the back said, thumping their hands against their chest. “Rest is for the dead and the cowardly!”

“You hear that?” the captain asked me. “Rest is for the dead. Now, if you don’t wish to join their ranks, I suggest you be on your way.”

I had to make a choice here. The Imperial jackasses weren’t interested in me. It was clear they wanted Norm for something and it was related to the ink-drink he was selling. Now, unethical as it was to spike his customers’ booze with something extra, it wasn’t deserving of what the cult would do. But was I willing to throw my lot in with this random guy and set myself against an entire city’s worth of cultists? No, there had to be a better way out of this.

“You seem like a man of rank and stature,” I said, relying upon my refined breeding and etiquette to get me through this. I sat up straight and took a more commanding posture. “Surely you are interested in negotiation, yes?”

The captain raised his chin at that and peered at me with suspicion for a second. He could tell I was working an angle but wasn’t sure what to say back. It was clear no one had ever spoken so directly with him before. At least no one on the outside of his ranks. “I command the entire military division of the Imperial Cult,” he explained proudly. “Within this city, at least. With a word, I could have an army converge on this entire area. And none would dare resist my decision, not even the government.”

“I am Napoleon Lanceman,” I said, bowing slightly to him from my seated position. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Captain Verrick,” he replied, not returning the bow. “Lanceman, eh? You’re one of the houses?”

“Don’t get excited, I’m a mule,” I said. It was a foolish thing to confide but there was reason to put myself below this man in both status and power. I needed to look pathetic enough to not warrant murdering if I failed this negotiation.

“Ah, so why keep the name?” Verrick asked. “If you are useless to your lineage, it would seem best for you to simply just be Napoleon.”

“Funny, my family said the same thing,” I said. “But alas, I refuse to give up my namesake. I was born a Lanceman and I shall die one. Just hopefully not tonight.”

Verrick laughed at this. He appreciated the flattery and seemed to relax a little more. He leaned against the bar and looked at me with curiosity. “What is it to you, that we don’t bother this man?”

“He’s a friend of mine,” I said. “And I don’t want to see him harmed.”

“Bullshit,” Verrick replied. “This is the first time you’ve met the man.”

“So? That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” I replied calmly. The captain pressed his hands against each other, grasping them in thought.

“I was dispatched to plug leaks in the city,” the captain finally explained. “All of them. And Norm here is on my list. It’s nothing personal.”

“How can I be on your list? I’ve been nothing but cordial with you imperial jerks,” Norm complained from the back. A single glare from the captain shut him the hell up.

“We wanted to introduce some ink into the population, to monitor how it would affect the people,” Verrick continued. “The experiments have been only successful in generating more customers for the few saloons we have given the product to. Now it is time to clean up loose ends.”

“What will it take to get you to just take the man’s stock of ink and leave him be?” I asked.

“I think I’m willing to work out a favor with a man as polite as you,” Verrick said, rubbing his chin for a moment. He grinned widely. “Indeed, your temperament is refreshing. Many people within this city don’t know how to talk to my kind. It is frustrating, to say the least.”

“Name your price,” I said.

“A life for a life,” he replied without hesitating. “One of ours is in prison awaiting execution. Our Senator’s efforts have failed to extract him from the situation. I’ve been dragging my feet on sending people in to get him out since it would be traced back to us. And the usual channels of assassins and thieves are full of unreliable bastards…care to take the job?”

A prison break? That wasn’t a way to make friends in this city. Perhaps I could negotiate the man’s release in other ways. Or at the very least, I’d be able to buy enough time for Norm to get the hell out of Reinboldt.

“If you agree that this loose end is closed, I’ll find a way to get your guy out,” I replied after a moment of thinking.

“Boys, I think we’re done here,” Verrick said. He reached out and pressed a coin into my palm firmly. An intense burn washed through my fingers and spread to the rest of my hand for a moment, hurting so bad I almost dropped the coin.

You have been sealed to a Quest! appeared in my vision. I tried to stretch out my hand and release the coin but I found it impossible.

“That’s a Quest Token,” Verrick explained as he watched my amused attempts to drop the coin, only to catch it at the last moment always. “It confers all knowledge of an operation. We use them to ensure our assets are able to function properly. Follow the instructions within the Quest and execute it to the best of your abilities. Failure results in us returning to this establishment, torches in hand.”

Chapter 17

There was some good news attached to this Quest. While I wasn’t thrilled about being wrapped up in this affair, the man in question’s execution was set for a year from now. I had time to handle this problem while attending to other matters.

Irene was pleased to hear about the state of her former husband, laughing at his brush with death in quite a convincing manner. I almost believed that she didn’t care. Almost.

Regardless, Norm’s business was in trouble. The news about him putting strange ink into the moonshine would spread thanks to Irene’s glee and it was doubtful he’d show his face in this part of the city again. This was more than enough to satisfy the woman’s criteria and I was given a room as well as a large wedge of cheese, to thank me for my work.

But I was in no mood for fancy cheese wedges. With Alana now safe and looked after, and with a base to return to in case of trouble, it was time for me to finally head down to the docks and find out what was going on. The gold pieces that Irene had given me for the job were more than enough to hire some help. The only question was where to find someone in this strange city?

I couldn’t just walk into the docks unprepared. No doubt the gnomes were suspicious about the absence of communication from their partners at this point. They would be waiting for a stranger to show up and no doubt they were ready to fight. I wasn’t about to walk into this scenario alone.

Fortunately, Irene knew her way around the city quite well. She pointed me towards a Mercenary Hall known as the Cutwise Crew.

The Cutwisers were smart, fast and efficient mercenaries, often used by gangs to target each other. These skilled assassins were consummate professionals and had no trouble crossbowing their former employers to death. As long as coin was paid, the Cutwise Crew was a sword for hire.

Reinboldt barely tolerated Cutwisers’ existence, namely because they were effective demon hunters. Occasionally, a demon or devil would make its way into the city and the Cutwise Crew would be deployed to put them down. They were the only guild in the city with the people crazy enough to take on the job and win. This gave them a special favor among Senators, granting them immunity to most legal issues.

This wasn’t to say the Crew was poorly behaved. On the contrary, while they were wild fighters, they were extremely reserved and professional leading up to the battle. It was said that the Cutwise were disciplined enough to cut their tongues out if ordered, though this was somewhat of a rumor.

Finding their headquarters wasn’t difficult, for they were in the Prenik District, a business center full of guildhalls. Most guilds tended to congregate near one another, making it easier for the scribes and messengers to move back and forth between the large buildings. While it was evening still, there was a considerable amount of workers present, going about their business as if it were daytime.

No one questioned my presence, I was just another face in the crowd. I made my way through the throng, eventually finding the large Cutwise building.

The center was separate from the other buildings, with a large iron fence around it. Barbed wire sat at the top of the fence and I could see razorferns at the base of the wall. Those nasty plants would grow at least ten feet down and made digging nearly impossible – and painful!

“I’m guessing they don’t play well with the neighbors,” I said as I approached the great gate separating the mercenary hall from the rest of the guilds.

A tall suit of armor was floating in front of the gate, its arms and feet clearly missing. Yet, the suit stayed together, bobbing up and down gently in the air.

“Visitor, what brings you at this hour?” the suit asked, the sound of rushing wind coming from within it. The voice sounded raspy and suffocated, as if it were trying to get the words out in spite of some great struggle. I tried not to shiver at such a strange and unsettling thing.

“I seek men to employ,” I said. “Ten gold is in my palm. Can that bring me any warriors or am I wasting my time?”

“Gold?” the suit wheezed. “That is a great fee to bring. Do you wish for a man or for a suit like myself?”

An interesting question. I tilted my head. “Animated armor?”

“Not animated, possessed,” he replied. “We are the secret to fighting demons. When a Cutwise man or woman is slain, they may return through ancient rituals to bind themselves to these suits. Without pain or feeling, it is easy to slay a demon.”

So that was their secret.

“Sounds like a wretched state,” I said. “No offense.”

“It is free of all pain and worry,” the suit explained. “I am much happier now than I was as a human.”

“Is this forever?” I asked. “Are you to be denied the afterlife?”

“This is a much better afterlife than whatever faces me on the other side,” he replied.

Animated armor would attract a lot of attention, even if it were tactically superior. And intimidating as hell. “I think I’ll take a living soldier,” I said.

The suit nodded. “Enter the courtyard then, and I shall bring the lineup. The fee for looking is a gold and the fee for hiring is five.”

“I am not here to gawk at strippers, I am searching for a man at arms,” I grumbled. “I will not be paying you a coin for anything other than services.”

The suit stared at me blankly. “Negotiation will not work on a being that has no emotion.”

“You may not have emotion but you do have reason,” I said. “If I’m not here to hire a demon fighter then it means my job involves normal men. And if that’s the case then I don’t need the Cutwise explicitly. There are plenty of other mercenary halls in the area. Why should I jump through hoops if I am the customer?”

“Every guildhall will charge you for their time,” the suit countered.

“And I will bitch at every single one of them until someone comes down on the fee, and then they’ll get all of my gold,” I said.

“You make a solid point,” the suit replied. “But since I am unbothered by the passage of time, I don’t mind waiting for you to try that out.”

Frowning, I dug into my pocket and produced a gold piece. “I don’t have time for this. Take it and let us be done with it.”

The suit claimed he had no emotions but he laughed at this and took my money. “Very good,” he said, opening the gate up. “Stay here. I will fetch the meat.”

Chapter 18

Six mercenaries were lined up in front of me. Four of them were bulky men, armed with longswords at their sides. They were thick-necked fellows, with many tattoos upon their arms and legs, indicating the various places they had traveled to. Impressive in size for certain, but there was a dullness in their eyes that indicated lack of real thought.

The fifth was a woman who had fallen asleep standing up. The suit tried to rouse her a few times but she was out like a light. I suppose this was either a sign of someone who worked so hard they entered a coma during sleep or they were incredibly lazy. I didn’t bother to investigate her any further.

The last of the mercenaries was a tall man with a smug grin on his face. He was skinnier than the rest and carried two daggers on his belt, as well as a shortbow on his back. He wore thick black boots and sported a red goatee that was sharply shaven. A dozen throwing knives were affixed to a bandoleer he was wearing across his chest. He was equipped for Armageddon, though he was a few hundred years too late.

“What’s your story?” I asked the smug man.

“Forget Tag,” one of the bulky fellows said. “He’s a scrawny wimp.”

Tag grinned and flexed at hearing this. “They’re just jealous of my lean build. I’m the kind of man who can fit through sewer grates with ease!”

The sleeping woman abruptly woke up. “War is the essence of our division, sir!” she shouted, before falling back asleep.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

Tag shrugged. “Shani’s never been the same after she took a bonk to the skull a few years back.”

The four men had begun whispering amongst each other and were snickering about something. It was rather unprofessional.

“This isn’t much of a group,” I muttered to the suit. “Is this the best you have?”

“At your price, sir, this is the worst we have to offer,” the suit replied.

“Hey!” Tag said. “I am not the worst! I’m an exceptional merc, anyone could have shot the wrong target!”

“You shot our client!” Shani said, waking up from her stupor. “In the ass!”

“He was antagonizing me!” Tag replied. “And besides, that shot was almost 200 feet away, that should have been one for the books with a shortbow!”

That was an impressive fact. I could use someone with a ranged weapon in this operation. Though it seemed he was a bit of a loose cannon.

“What’s the deal with Tag?” I asked the suit.

“He’s a stealth expert, a rogue with exceptional combat abilities,” the suit explained. “However, Taggart is hard to work with for a variety of reasons. Namely he struggles with ethics. Harming unarmed civilians is out of the question for him and so there aren’t many jobs for him. Most work requires no witnesses.”

That seemed like a bright spot in a rather dark portrait. I suppose this meant the rest of the group wasn’t so keen on asking questions when ordered to attack the helpless and the weak. I almost felt queasy at the idea of employing people who could easily dispatch a human life without compunction.

“I’ll take Taggart,” I said after some thought. “He seems to be the best out of the bunch. And that’s not saying much.”

Chapter 19

“Put that cigarette out!” I hissed as we crept closer to the docks. Taggart, who had placed a long white cylinder in his mouth, stuck out his tongue.

“No way,” he replied, taking a puff. “We got this. Eight gnomes, three watchdogs and a Grand Archivist, no problem.”

“How do you know all that?” I asked, grabbing the cigarette from his mouth and tossing it on the ground.

“Hey that was imported longleaf,” the man groaned. He pointed to the darkness. “I can see them on the wharf up ahead.”

It was too dark for me to tell. We were hiding behind a large cluster of barrels on the ramp leading right to the water. “Are you sure that’s all?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Tag said, offering nothing else. This raised a serious question. What was a Grand Archivist doing here?

The Grand Archive was the central depository of all relevant magical books in Usiren. Anything with true potential was brought to the Archive to be either disposed, stored or distributed to the person who could benefit from it the most. Part of my job had been to transfer truly magical sources to the Archive each month.

The Grandium Libraria, as it was known, was located in the dead center of the continent. All roads led to the Grandium and it is said that is where Feship, the demon king, holds his court. Those who wore the robes of a Grand Archivist were known to be worshippers of Feship and thus were extremely dangerous to deal with.

The presence of an archivist was greatly disturbing. But surely they wouldn’t be here if the gnomes were expecting combat? Or perhaps they were a sorcerer, skilled with magic and here to make sure the job was finished for good this time. Too many questions and no way to get answers…at least not without striking first.

“Are they armed?”

“I’d say so,” Taggart replied. He squinted in the darkness. “Oh yeah, they’re armed. But I’d be more worried about the hounds. It’s good we’re by the water, otherwise those dogs might have smelled and mauled us to death by now.”

The mercenary unslung his bow and loaded an arrow onto the string. He looked at me curiously. “So what’s the plan, boss?”

Shock and awe would be the best solution here. But…I couldn’t just attack people standing by the docks, even if they were waiting for me. I needed to know their intentions first.

“What do you think the chances of them parleying would be?” I asked.

“I can shoot the archivist from here,” Taggart replied. “So that might be a good enough hostage situation for you to get back out. Do you need to talk to them?”

“I don’t know what they want. Will they kill me on sight or are they after something else?” I asked aloud.

“Sounds like me coming home to my ex-wife,” Taggart chuckled. “Your best bet is to approach from a distance, draw their attention and then if it comes to it, I’ll snipe them.”

“And you can take them down?” I asked, counting my scrolls. I had five on me. Each could be used as a shield in a pinch.

“I’m the best shot in the country,” Tag replied. “Sometimes.”

That was good enough for me. If it had just been the gnomes, I might have been willing to attack first, but the Grand Archivist was a great danger. Harming them could trigger long-lasting consequences that I might not come back from. Better figure out what was going on from the beginning before I lobbed a fireball at them.

While Tag slipped into position, gaining a better vantage point by climbing up a few stacked crates, I made my way towards the end of the first pier, where the gnomes were waiting. It was dark and they were hard to see in the camouflaged outfits but I could see all eight of them, waiting by the Archivist.

She was a red-headed woman with a long, flowing mane that curled at the ends. She wore the traditional long black, V-shaped robes of a Grandium Archivist. Upon her wrists was a plethora of glowing jewelry, emanating a soft green light that illuminated her perpetually bored face. The woman’s cheekbones were long and she had a cruel visage about her.

“That’s far enough,” she shouted at me as I slowly approached. The three hounds began barking at once, their jet black fur making them almost invisible in the darkness. The gnomes held them back, the chains rattling as the beasts pulled against them, baying for my blood.

“I come in peace,” I said, showing my hands. “Please, I am just here to talk.”

“You are the Napoleon boy, yes?” she asked.

“I am,” I said.

“Then there is nothing to discuss,” the archivist coldly replied. “Kill him.”

At once, the gnomes released the chains, freeing the dogs. My hand could barely get to a scroll before the hounds were upon me. And yet, they did not leap on my flesh and tear me to pieces.

A series of explosives peppered the ground in front of me, causing the dogs to yelp and fall back. The most noxious scent filled the air as the explosion dispersed and I tried not to gag. The hounds, offended by the hideous odor, fled from me in a blind panic, one even leaping into the sea to escape.

Once the explosion had cleared, I realized that six of the gnomes were on the ground, dead. Two were engaged in a blade fight with Taggart who had situated himself between them both. He fought with his dual daggers with ease, grinning as he casually parried and then skewered his foes.

The Grand Archivist tried to raise her hands to perform some magic but she was too slow. A blade was at her neck in an instant and Taggart had her at his mercy.

“Woah, easy!” I said, reaching a hand out to stay the man. “I need her alive.”

“You hear that?” Taggart said to the wriggling woman. “It’s your lucky day. Of course, if you try anything, I’ll have to ignore him in favor of self-preservation.”

“Let me go, you fiend!” the woman gasped as she fought, almost ignorant to the weapon against her throat. “Feship will have your head.”

“Feship’s gotta breach our city’s defense first and that ain’t happening,” Tag replied. This stilled the woman.

“Damn, you’re right,” she replied with a huff. Finally, she gazed at me. “Very well. I am at your mercy, what is it you want?”

“Answers,” I said, walking up to the woman. “Who are you? Why the hell are you trying to kill me? I’m just a mule and a librarian.”

“My name is Aubergine,” she replied, scowling at me. Her expression almost fired daggers. “And this isn’t personal. My orders were to have the Napoleon man put down and his Archive destroyed. If that turned out to be you, I am sorry.”

“Who gave you these orders?” I pressed.

“They came straight from the High Priest of Feship, of the Grand Archive,” she said. “I was handed the job personally and told to oversee it.” She struggled for a moment. “Can you let me go now? I shall cooperate.”

“No, hold her,” I said. “I’m not letting you get away with any kind of tricks. So the High Priest of Feship…why do these demon worshippers care about me?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him,” the woman said. “I’ll make you a trade. I have a map leading to his location. I’ll give it to you in exchange for my freedom.”

“Why not just kill her and take the map?” Tag offered.

I put a hand up to stay him. “My companion makes a hasty but good point…”

“The map is buried,” she said. “I hid it in the woods to make sure I’d have leverage over my boss in case this endeavor failed. I can tell you exactly where to find it. In exchange, you let me go.”

“Sounds like we’re going to have to take you there…” I said. “Otherwise we might just be digging in some random spot.”

“This is a typical scam, boss,” Taggart warned. “She’s gonna take us straight to a camp full of her guys. Let’s just slit her throat and call it a day. I wanna try that new moonshine that Norm fella came up with. They say it makes you blind as ink in both eyes.”

“And you’re interested in that?” I asked, shaking my head. “Look, Aubergine, my companion is making some strong points here. Why shouldn’t I just end you and then go on my way? Finding a high priest in a land of dead gods shouldn’t be too hard.”

The Grand Archivist swallowed hard at hearing those words. “Erm, well…I can tell you where it’s buried now. You leave me with your companion and then go find the map. Then he releases me and everything’s well, yes?”

“How far am I going?” I asked.

“Less than a mile outside the city, I promise,” she said. “But in all fairness, I do have to admit. There is a guardian there. And he is a very powerful demon.”

Chapter 20

It is now at this point in my life that I began to reevaluate all of my decisions. As I trudged through a swamp at the edge of Reinboldt, just far enough to be out of range of the Shielding Spell, I reflected on everything that had led up to this moment.

Weeks ago I had been resigned to a quiet life of study and experimentation on magic. I had no grand ambitions with learning how to use scrolls beyond my own satisfaction and maybe a hope of getting my family to take me seriously once more. Now I was armed to the teeth with powerful magics that would allow me to unleash hell on anyone who provoked my ire. And yet, I was still out of my depth!

Travel was harrowing, Reinboldt was overwhelming and there were monsters at every turn. Death was on the line constantly in the world outside of my Archive and I couldn’t say that I was enjoying any bit of it. At the same time, however, I had advanced considerably in my studies. Namely experience points were the key to growing exponentially stronger. Maybe this wretched swamp would give me enough points to level up.

I followed Augbergine’s instructions to the letter, moving through the dense swamp, following the winding trail that led past many ornate looking toads. These horrid frogs hoarked and harked after me as I walked into their territory, sometimes even hopping in my direction out of anger. I wasn’t afraid of a slimy toad, of course, but the way they all followed me throughout the waters was greatly unnerving. By the time I had made it to the great tree where the map was said to be buried, I had acquired nearly thirty stalkers, watching me from the water.

“You better not try anything!” I warned to the waterlogged frogs, shaking a fist at them. So distracted was I with the monsters in the water that I didn’t notice the great monster behind me.

The tree came to life at once, reaching down and seizing my legs with long, clawed fingers. Barbs dug into my flesh as I was ripped upwards, my items falling out of my bags as the tree violently shook me.

The frogs all let out a satisfied chorus of high pitch croaking as the horrific, bulbous tree smashed me against the ground. More than a few things popped inside of my body when I cracked the ground once, twice and a third time.

“Hur, hur, hur,” the demon gloated as he dangled me in front of him. He was not a shapeshifter, but was rather such a thick beast that his carapace looked like bark. He had planted himself in front of many other trees and blended in just fine until it was too late.

The world spun around me as blood poured down my head. My memories were scrambled and I couldn’t quite remember where I was or what I was doing. I groaned a little, trying to get my bearings as I hung like meat from a hook.

“What is this?” the creature asked as it yanked one of my scrolls out of its canister. My scrolls had been securely in place on my belt the whole time; the only things that hadn’t fallen out. “Ohohoho, a little mage is in my hands! I thought your kind went the way of the turtle!”

“Turtles are still around,” I said. This prompted the demon to swing me up and down like a goddamn rope. My organs did not like the force generated by this.

“Silence, welp! You are my plaything, you will not speak unless spoken to!” the demon replied, finishing shaking me. The world spun for a moment as I lost all remains of my meager breakfast. “But believe you me, you will speak!”

The demon dug one of his other, treelike appendages into the ground and scooped out a huge pile of dirt. This unearthed a large collection of books, scrolls and other curiosities. I could see a ring gleaming with magic potential amongst the collection. That caught my eye. Magic rings were incredibly rare in this world.

My wits seemed to return to me as my categorical knowledge of the 19 documented magical rings came to mind. This could be any one of those treasures! Who knows what secrets could be learned from it? A strange thing to become excited about when on the verge of death, but I’m an academic at heart. I’ll take my motivation where I can.

I reached a hand up towards where the fireball scroll was. Big mistake, for the demon immediately slammed me into the ground.

“Stay still, you little git!” he said. “Don’t make me kill you before we get the task done.”

His other appendage carefully flipped through the collection until he found a scroll. “Ahhhh, yes. Here it is. Finally. Now then, listen up, little magefly.”

The demon lifted me high so that I was dangling in front of his grotesque, bulbous face. He had a dozen eyes in the center of his trunk and a wide maw that looked ready to devour me. Saliva ran down the jaws and I shivered, despite the pain it caused my body. “You are going to read a little scroll for me. A scroll I’ve been waiting to read for a long time. Then, I’ll make you a frog to join my collection. No reason not to add another one to the chorus.”

I groaned, blood pouring from my lips as the demon unfurled the scroll and brought it before me. My eyes went wide at the sight of it, however. A portal straight to one of the Hellplanes. He wanted to bring friends here and quite a few.

There was no way I’d be letting him bring hell to this place. But perhaps there was a way out of this, taking advantage of how the scroll worked.

It was important to clearly sound out each letter when casting a scroll. Even the smallest mispronunciation could cause a great deal of trouble. Regular spellbooks, you can mispronounce all day long without a hitch, but scrolls were dainty little things. They contained such power that they unleashed the moment the words were uttered, so the wrong syllable could bring about the wrong effect at the wrong time.

Sometimes mishaps were small, like a slower casting of the spell or a need to repeat a word. Other times, the mishaps were so colossal that entire archives were destroyed because of a student’s careless mispronunciation. I should know, I’d sorted through dozens of wreckage sites searching for magical remains.

“Speak,” the demon urged as he shook me. “Open the gate and give me an audience for my chorus of frogs!”

I smacked my dried and cracked lips together, then tried to pronounce the first word. I had to be careful about how I sabotaged this. Too big of a screw up in the beginning and there’d be just a fizzle. Too much precision, however, could cause an explosion big enough to blow me to shreds. I might take the demon out but I wasn’t the kind of chess player who flipped the board when he lost.

No, I was the kind to find a cheap technicality, or an excuse to leave long enough for the opponent to get bored and go away. Scanning this document, there had to be something I could work with.

I sounded the second word. Perfect pronunciation. I could see the energy on the page begin to accumulate. This wasn’t Arithane ink powering the scroll, curiously enough. It was a purple stained ink, something mixed with perhaps a mundane dye…I couldn’t tell. But it was powerful. Enough so to make real trouble when I screwed up the third word.

My tone was too low. Just a bit too low. There are many theories as to why tone affects the overall strength of a spell but one thing is agreed upon: the weaker the warble, the worse the warp. And I croaked like the frogs this monster was so found of forming.

Flames burst forth from the scroll, black fire consisting of pure rift energy. This was not how the magic was supposed to manifest and immediately the air caught fire. My outfit was engulfed in the regular flame as the magical, black fire leapt upon the demon.

The beast threw me wildly as he screamed, the flames consuming him entirely. I landed with a splash in the boggy mud water, the flames on my skin doused before they could cause much damage. Thank goodness I dressed in an absurd amount of layers to stay current with the fashion!

I clambered out of the water to find the demon on the ground, shriveled up to a small core, no bigger than an apple. The black fire had scorched the entire area, turning the mud into hard stone and destroying all trees within a thirty foot radius.

Intentional Accident! 250 XP gained! appeared in my vision as the frogs all let out a song in gratitude, pleased to see that their captor had met his match in the most gruesome of ends.

Chapter 21

Most of the frogs dispersed after the tree demon was destroyed. Well, destroyed is a bit of a misnomer.

Demons aren’t immortal by any stretch of the means but compared to a human, they might as well be. Destroying their bodies caused their spirits to disperse across the lower planes for a while but eventually they’d reconstitute. Sometimes an especially powerful demon would be fragmented into multiple spirits.

These were known as devils, split and fragmented demons that had portions of their personalities from their host demon. Sorcerers and devils got along quite well, as any skilled sorc would be able to conjure a devil spirit forth, giving it a body to rain havoc on the world for a while. Those bodies would eventually burn out of energy and the spirit would return to its host demon, incidentally carrying those memories and experiences along with it.

Had I just created a flank of devils, spread out across the world now? Or was this thing gone for my lifetime? I had no way of knowing. But one thing was certain: I should be much more careful when reading my scrolls.

One particularly big frog, with a pair of green horns on its head, remained behind and ribbited at me as I looked through the treasure trove the demon had left behind.

“So are you cursed?” I asked the frog as I picked up one book. It was in a language I had never seen before. Fascinating.

The frog hopped once.

“Is that a yes?” I asked, picking up another book entitled Practical Transformations. This was at least in Sirense.

Another hop. Followed by an angry croak. This seemed to indicate a yes. Perhaps I could undo the problem with the help of this book.

“You’re familiar with the place, am I in danger if I remain here?” I asked.

The frog slowly blinked at me. No ribbit. I guess that was a no. “Very well,” I replied to my toad companion. “You keep watch and I’ll see if I can figure out how to reverse this.”

The frog nodded and turned around, to look for intruders. I flipped through the book to see if I could find anything about reversing transmogriphication…

…the art of transformation is not always appreciated by its recipients. However, it is important to remember that this is a permanent fate. One cannot be transmuted more than once in their lifetime. Those who regard this transformation as a curse should not be entirely in despair, however, as there may be ways to solve this problem. Those ways are not covered or theorized in this book.

“I do not have good news for you, my froggy friend,” I said to the toad as I closed the book. Book Studied! 500 XP Gained! appeared in my vision, despite the fact that I had barely skimmed the thing. I could feel the energy in my tattoo throb a little as it gained more strength. How close was I to leveling now? I had 1,100 XP and I needed 1,500 to level up. It seemed that each time I gained power, my experience reset itself. Interesting.

The frog looked at me with irritation.

“Sorry,” I said, shrugging as I put the book aside. “But you’re stuck that way. At least for a long while. But I’m certainly a gentleman, if you come along with me, I’d be more than happy to try and restore you once I get back at the Archive. But…you might want to get used to the taste of bugs.”

The frog leapt with tremendous speed onto my shoulder, nestling in place next to my head. Familiar Acquired! appeared in my vision. You gain 1 Additional Scribe per day. Get to level 4 for a Familiar Evolution!

“Well look at me, I’m a classical caster, familiar and everything,” I said, patting my frog on the head. “Now, I suppose you need a name. How about Odamere? That’s a good strong name.”

Odamere ribbited at that, his voice neutral. I couldn’t sense satisfaction or irritation one way or the other. I suppose the familiar link wasn’t very strong.

“Great,” I said. “Well keep your eyes open, I need to find a map…”

The swamp grew darker as the day wore on but nothing came near to harm us. I was able to find the map quickly enough; it was in the spot that Aubergine had told me exactly. The furled up scroll contained a subregion of Usiren to the south, known as the Kaiberlands.

The Kaiberlands were not an easily accessible part of the continent, primarily because of the Red Mountain Range that had been raised by King Kaiber. This powerful sorcerer, of the Kaiber family legacy, had managed to not only repel Feship from a particular part of the continent, but had been able to create a magical mountain range that kept all demons at bay. It was said that the Kaiberlands were the only place you could see a truly blue sky.

What was a High Priest of Feship doing in a small fortress hidden in the Kaiberlands? His kind would not be welcome whatsoever, for the Kaiber lineage hated all demons and devils, viewing them as slaves to be forced to work. It was said that most Kaiber sorcerers had homes made by demons that could chew through rocks, shaping them into perfectly cut houses without a single tool. These demons were compelled to work and were expelled into the mountains after they had finished their tasks.

A strange puzzle. More questions and no answers. But I had a solid lead, something that would take me straight to the man who had ordered my assassination. Who was he? What was his motivation?

I couldn’t help but feel that something awful was brewing beneath the surface of all this. Maybe it was being in a horrid swamp but a sense of dread welled up within me as I read the map carefully. What had I stumbled into? And how the hell was I going to get out of this alive?

Chapter 22

Among the tree demon’s collection was a pair of scrolls that were in that same, strange language as the mystery book. These scrolls were written in golden lettering, the ink splotched and similar to an egg-wash. Interesting. These weren’t preserved for a long time; the paper was already starting to erode and I could see the decomposition happening in the magic. In a few years, these spell scrolls would lose all potency and power. Interesting.

If I could translate this book, I could learn what the spells on the scrolls were. And then, I’d be able to record them, learning two new spells! What could they be? More portals to hell? Doubtful. These didn’t seem demonic…but they were hidden and guarded for a reason.

Last and certainly not least amongst the items was the magical ring. It was a silver band with gold on the outer edge. A single diamond was embedded into the center of the ring, certainly worth more than anything I had on me.

There was a gentle heat to the object. Picking it up caused energy to course through the air, making my arm hairs stand on end. I was tempted to put it on but that could be a quick way to die, as I had no idea if the ring was cursed or not.

Many artificers out there were fraudsters who had learned the secret to Devil Binding as opposed to the actual creation of magical artifacts. Devil binding allowed a sorcerer to essentially trap a devil into an object for a short period of time, giving a powerful magic effect. However, the devil within would eventually push its way out, manifesting through a variety of nasty side-effects.

The devil-bound object, also known as Cursed, would eventually kill the owner. Being unable to escape, the creature’s power would weaken and they would fall dormant within the item until some hapless victim picked it up and started using it. These items were far more common than any other kind of magic item, especially with the Flaildauves and their mad crusade to destroy every magical item on the planet.

I would need to study this ring in a proper facility. Maybe the Occultist Shelly would be able to assist me. If I could find her, that is.

I hadn’t forgotten about Pazu and his puzzle box. Rather, I had been holding onto the thing just in case of an emergency. That emergency had come and gone, of course, but I had been bashed against the ground one too many times to remember in the moment.

Fortunately, most of my wounds had been superficial. A scroll of healing ensured that I was good as new for the journey back to the docks. With my familiar and band of objects in possession, I started to head my way to Reinboldt.

It was getting much darker out as I hurried through the swamp, doing my best to keep a fast pace. Odamere croaked a warning as I narrowly dodged a low hanging branch. He sounded a little worried.

“What’s up?” I said. I heard the hum a moment later. It was a gentle tune, a soft lullaby, all around me.

“Oh the fly flew into the parlor, little did he know, his life was forfeit already, there would be nothing left to show…” the voice purred, clearly a woman of some kind.

I drew out my fireball scroll and glanced about. The demon could be anywhere. “Leave me be! I have no interest in fighting,” I demanded.

“Neither do I…” the voice purred.

Odamere croaked a warning just in time and I leapt aside as a ball of webbing struck the ground beneath my feet. I narrowly scampered out of the way of the unfurling white web that was trying to entangle me.

“I’m warning you, I shall burn this entire place to the ground!” I threatened, carefully turning in a circle to keep track of the skittering noise all around me. There was something big moving in the swamp, climbing up the trees and moving across the branches with ease.

“Come now, little fly, let the spider have her feast,” the voice said. Another web came flying at me but I was faster.

I unfurled the fireball scroll and shouted the command words with perfect diction, aiming my finger forward. The eldritch energy of the flame magic coalesced around my fingertip into a perfect sphere then fired forward up into the webbing.

The fire easily burned through the webs and ignited the entire wood above me. The flames spread out in a huge circle, catching a large silhouette on fire. There was a horrific scream, followed by angered curses and then…nothing. She was gone.

Pest Control! 200 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as I quickly fled the area. What was it that I had been facing? I don’t know but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out.

Chapter 23

I arrived at Norm’s, exhausted, waterlogged and with a frog for a new friend. Were frogs and toads different from each other? Was this a toad or a frog? I didn’t have the answer to any of those questions, same as to having the answers to why the assassins were targeting me. But I did have the map to get some of those answers. The rest I’d have to figure out when I was back at the Archive.

I collapsed into Irene’s arms as soon as I saw her. The woman was grumpy at first, protesting my advances until she realized that I could scarcely walk. Being on my feet all this time had worn me the hell out. She escorted me upstairs, stripped and tossed me into bed before shouting about my noisy guests. I barely registered what she said until the next morning when I woke to the smell of freshly cooked eggs.

Irene was frowning as she entered my room, carrying a tray of breakfast. “This isn’t supposed to be a traditional inn,” she grumbled. “Bringing you breakfast shouldn’t be on my to-do list.”

I sat up and accepted the tray of eggs eagerly. My legs were burning. The cumulative effects of having to walk and run everywhere had stacked up and I could barely move. “My apologies, ma’am,” I replied.

“Everything was fine until you came here,” she continued to complain. “Now I have that girl following me around everywhere. She tries to help with everything even though I tell her she’s not a slave anymore. It’s frustrating.”

“Alana will need some help adjusting to the regular world,” I replied. “And don’t forget that this is part of the cost of our arrangement. You knew she’d need looking after.”

Eating gave me my vigor back, enough so to endure Irene’s endless amount of complaints. Eventually I regained enough strength to walk and was able to leave the room, finding Taggart and Aubergine three doors down.

Aubergine was lounging on the bed, reading a novel. Taggart was sitting in the corner of the room, blades in hand, but he was at ease. It looked as if the woman had been a perfect guest in her time of being held prisoner. She bore no injuries nor indication that Taggart had been improper to her either…that was a good sign. I hadn’t quite thought of him being a rapscallion in that way.

Taggart was a good egg with a very strange shell. He was braggadocious and walked with swagger, acting as if nothing were the matter at all times. Even waltzing into combat, he had a grin on his face. I could only imagine the strange background a mercenary like him must have had, to fight so well and without worry. Or maybe he just had a death wish. Hard to tell.

“Finally!” Taggart said as he hopped to his feet. “And here I was thinking you were dead and gone.”

“You are alive,” Aubergine remarked as she sat up, putting the book on the table beside her. She had brushed out the curls in her hair and tied it back into a more functional bun. Exhaustion marred her eyes and I could see the fear inside.

It was a strange thing to be feared. I had never felt it before. Sure, when I was a young pup growing up in my home, I was told I would be feared all the time.

“You are a Lanceman!” my oldest brother, Hortense, had told me. “You will raise a hand and send forth spears of magic through armies! In a flick of a wrist, all will be forced to bow before you!”

Oh yes, Hortense loved the idea of fear. My whole family did. I said I did as well, but I suppose until this moment, I’ve only understood being on the other end of fear.

I hadn’t been nervous on the day of my manifestation trial. Not even worried. Every Lanceman at the right age manifested great power and would go on to the academy to do great things. Money, food, lodging, all of that was included. There was never a word of charge or price to a Lanceman. Most people knew that providing goods and services to a budding sorcerer would pay back triple in the months after manifestation.

But that didn’t happen. My spells failed. I could not do any of the eight challenges before me. Not a single goddamn one. And that was when the fear had arrived.

It was a bleak and ugly thing, a welling sense of dread and terror that gnawed away at my bones. Oh how I remember those terrible days, the feeling of horror within me as I stood before a flabbergasted headmaster. They were confused at first, angry at second and then, third, jovial. Laughter rang out as they all realized I was a nobody. Even my brothers and sisters laughed.

Then came the strikes and blows. The bursts of spells fired from all directions, not to kill me but to make me run like an animal. They chased me through the halls, forcing me to flee in all directions as they fired explosions within the floors, all meant to simply cause me pain and suffering. Even my family joined in. Maybe the sorcerers would have turned against them if they had not.

From that day, the fear my family had worshipped so deeply had arrived to me. And it was not a pleasant thing. It was not empowering. It was sickening and crippling. Only the Archive had been the thing to keep me safe from worry. Only in books was I free from these sensations of terror.

I suppose I wasn’t as afraid as I used to be. Not after the last few weeks. The tattoo burnt into my chest, the scrolls at my side and the spells in my head…they made me strong. Strong enough to face danger head on. Sure, it was all so stressful, but terrifying? No. It wasn’t anything like the day I ‘died’ in the eyes of my family.

These feelings and thoughts rushed through me as I looked at the fear in the woman’s eyes. Was this what my family had wanted to make others feel? A sense of helplessness, suffering and sorrow? Forgotten gods, what would I have become had I manifested? Would her fear feed me? Would I delight in those eyes instead of taking sorrow?

I became rather affected at once. I cleared my throat. “Taggart, go outside.”

“You got it,” the man said, trying to get a ‘high five’ from me as he walked past. I did not indulge him, prompting Taggart to swing his fist at my face. I flinched and he snickered before leaving. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind making him feel some fear for a bit. But later.

“Am I to be murdered now? Or did you want to fuck me first?” Aubergine asked, her voice trembling.

“Actually,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m letting you go.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

“Yes,” I said. “We made a deal. You gave me the map’s location. And a warning about the demon. I have no reason to hurt you, if you truly were simply carrying out the orders of someone else.”

Aubergine tilted her head, still not believing me. “You know I worship a terrible demon lord, yes?”

“I do,” I softly replied. “Though I’m curious to know why that is. What can Feship give you that would warrant you to give your life to him in service?”

“The same thing anyone can give,” she replied. “Power. Feship grants spells. With his blessings, I am able to cast a few useful abilities a day. In the old days, I would have been a cleric of some neutral god but I suppose this is the lot I’ve been given.”

“Why do you need that power?” I asked. “Why pledge to a demonic entity when you know they don’t care about us in the least?”

“I need the power to defend from everything and everyone. I don’t care about the demon lord on a personal level. I just need what he has to offer,” Aubergine explained as she shifted, pulling her legs close to her knees.

There it was again. The fear. I could see it clearly in her eyes. She was afraid of the world and would do anything to gain a power to fight back against the darkness. Even if that meant using darkness itself. A dangerous strategy, I suppose. But then again, who was I to moralize? I’d be slinging spells at villages for a laugh if things had gone just a little different.

Humility was a tough thing to swallow but I had learned the hard way what it means to be on the bottom of the hierarchy. I would not let Aubergine suffer the same way I had.

“You may find this impertinent,” I said. “But it would seem that your demon lord has failed to grant you the security you so desire. I mean, I was able to capture you after all.”

She shrugged. “His powers are limited behind the wall. I thought dogs and gnomes would protect me. I was wrong.”

“Come back to Elantio with me,” I said. “To the Archive. You’ll be perfectly safe behind the walls and you won’t have to deal with Feship anymore.”

Aubergine scoffed. “Aren’t you a kind man? I’m no victim here, I have great power. It’s just not accessible right now.”

“I’m not offering you power nor am I saying you’re a victim,” I replied. “But I am saying that you’re at a crossroads right now. You can escape the life that’s been built around you and no one will ever have to know. Trust me, the Archives are abandoned as hell. No one will be coming around to bother you.”

“And what will I do there?”

I grinned. “Learn magic. Real magic.”

Aubergine squinted at me. “Are you dense? You’re a mule and I’m a Grand Archivist, how the hell can we learn magic?”

I uncorked one of my scrolls and unfurled it in front of her. “Take a gander, just don’t read out loud.”

“A scroll? So what? I use it once and it’s gone for good,” Aubergine huffed. “These things are getting rarer and rarer.”

“Are they now?” I asked, trying to hold back my grin.

The woman looked at the scroll for a moment and then back at me. Her eyebrow had raised as high as it would go. “Is this…fresh ink?”

Chapter 24

Aubergine was swayed quickly once she learned that I had gained the power to replicate scrolls. I would like to be clever and callous here, to write that I had successfully gained a soldier in this fight against some unknown force but the truth was, I just wanted to free her from the influence of fear. I just wanted her to feel safe. In the same way I wanted to feel safe too.

How strange it was, that these feelings would rise up within me. Now, I was no knight in shining armor or someone looking to save a woman. Aubergine seemed like she was capable of taking care of herself just fine but that fear…I simply could not abide by seeing it.

I found myself sitting at the tavern later that day, drinking some indeterminable drink as I watched Norm and Irene make out like newlyweds on the counter. Why the hell the man hadn’t fled the city yet was beyond me but alas.

Taggart approached from my right and tapped my left shoulder, prompting me to look the wrong way as he snagged my beer and downed it.

“Anything else you need before I head back to the Merc hall?” he asked as he clunked the glass beside me, wiping his mouth with his arm.

“Actually, yes,” I said, motioning for him to sit. Alana scuttled up to us and began pouring drinks.

“Hey, you aren’t supposed to be doing that,” I said to the girl.

Alana shrugged. “Mr. Norm has been here all morning and if I don’t serve the customers no one will. I’m tired of being told to stop this or that. Let me pour you a damn drink.”

It seemed that Irene was rubbing off on the former slave. I put my hands up defensively as she poured both beers for us before leaving to serve another customer.

“So what’s the plan? Bury the body or something?” Taggart asked, causing me to almost snort out my drink.

“What? No, Augbergine’s alive and well,” I said. “She’s coming back to the Archive with me.”

“Oh, great,” Taggart replied, drinking his beer down fast. “So what do you want from me then?”

“You don’t seem to play well with your mercenary hall,” I said. “The Cutwise Crew seems a bit…beneath you.”

“Damn straight,” the mercenary replied, raising his empty beer to me before trying to get something out of the glass mug.

“So why not come into my employ? I need private security and you seem like the kind of guy who would do well with a more free structured job,” I said. “You’ll just come back to the Archive and keep everything nice and safe. Gnome-free, unless they’re here to check out books.”

Taggart narrowed his eyes at this question. “You know, I’ve been asked to do a lot of private work before, but none of it was ever described as free structured. What does that entail?”

“You simply live your life at the Archive and look after the building,” I explained. “It’s a large establishment, there are plenty of rooms. You could have an office, a training yard—”

“A bar?” he asked.

“There’s already one in the basement, I think,” I said. “I’ll clean it up and get it operational.”

“Alright, I like this plan, but what’s the pay?” Tag asked. “Because I’m not a cheap whore.”

“I assume you’re much cheaper than a whore because I was going to pay you nothing and you’ll like it,” I said.

This made the man laugh. “I gotta admit, you make a strong argument!” he said. “But seriously, what’s the offer?”

“Room, board and freedom,” I said. “In exchange, you keep the building and its people safe.”

“Sort of like a Constable…” he said to himself. “Alright, fair enough. Believe it or not but the merc hall actually charges rent, so I’m gonna be much better off in the long run.”

We shook hands and just like that, the arrangement was made. Hopefully he would be able to stave off any troublesome gnomes for the good future.

“I just have one more thing left to handle in the city,” I said. “Can you accompany me?”

“Sure,” Taggart replied. “Where to?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” I replied. “I’m looking for an Occultist by the name of Shelly.”

Tag’s eyes went wide at that. “Occultist? What do you want to deal with a spook for?”

“You afraid of magic, Tag?” I asked.

“Magic, hell no, freaky occultists who talk to the dead? Yes!” Taggart said. “You know that’s what they do right? They conjure people’s souls and spirits from black wells made of iron dug straight from the deepest pits of the earth.”

I had not heard the reputation of an occultist before. “I always assumed that was just a colloquial term for sorcerer,” I mused.

“Not in the least, pal! Sorcs have magic blood but occultists? They rely on all sorts of strange ways to commune with the dead. Some say they even kill themselves at the height of their power, to ascend to some kind of astral realm. Terri-fucking-fying,” Taggart said, shivering. “I’m staying here and getting annihilated. Good luck with your spook hunt.”

Chapter 25

Taggart’s glowing appraisal of the occultist profession did not settle my nerves in the least. With the Puzzle Box clutched in hand, I made my way through the big city, careful to not raise attention. I was still technically trespassing (getting in was much easier the second time) but no one seemed to notice or care. Reinboldt was massive, I was easily lost in the crowd.

Occultists had their own district, known by the locals as Ghost Row. The difference between the Row and the city was stark; as I crossed the small bridge leading into the district, I could see dozens of single wooden houses. They were separate from each other with large yards in between, allowing for the growth of plants and herbs.

These homes were eccentric and old looking, droopy buildings that leaned with the hill they were sitting on. Sign posts were clearly marked on each door, giving different instructions or warnings.

THIS HOUSE DOES NOT HAVE ANY EXCORCISTS, LEAVE US ALONE! one sign read. Another said. For appointments, please come on the fourth of every month. One interesting sign warned all that Any who enter this house will be hexed tenfold, go away!

The Occultist Shelly’s house was at the far end of the city, near the wall itself. No one was out in the streets and it felt rather eerie to walk across the cobblestone path, even though it was midday. The sign on her door was far more friendly.

Stop by for tea, palmistry and a hug! The sign read. But all I could think about was Taggart’s rantings and ravings about how they killed themselves to gain true power. That was one crazy leap of faith I couldn’t even imagine.

I knocked on the door and swallowed hard. Odamere, who was sitting in my front pocket, nestled down so that he was hidden. “Coward,” I whispered as I heard someone shuffle to the door.

The huge, imposing wooden door before me swung open, revealing a five foot tall woman wearing goggles on her forehead, tight pants and a button up vest with bright silver buttons. She had wildness in her eyes and her cracked, red lips split wide open upon seeing me.

“The vision was right!” she yelped, grabbing me in a big hug. She was surprisingly strong for being so short. “I’m a genius!”

“Easy,” I said, prying her off of me, trying to prevent Odamere from being squished. The frog ribbited in protest and climbed onto my shoulder. Shelly let out a cry in fear at the sight of the frog and fled backwards, falling onto her butt in the process.

“Eeek! Keep that monster away!” the woman cried as she scooted backwards in terror.

Odamere ribbited at me and then hopped back into my pocket, vanishing from view. This calmed the poor woman down.

“Are you alright?” I asked, reaching a hand out to help the girl up. “Are you the Occultist Shelly, by any chance?”

“I’m fine! And yes, I am! And if my calculations are correct, based on the various astral charts, you should be Fericus Lupern of Fiona,” she said, tapping on her forehead. “I’m quite smart that way.”

“My name is Napoleon,” I said. “Lanceman. I guess you got the ‘L’ right.”

Shelly laughed. “Come on in, I’ll get the kettle roaring.”

I followed her into the rather cozy house. Despite the large size on the outside, the hallways were built to be about her size and that meant they were tight and difficult for me to squeeze through at times. Even the doors were hard to get through.

All of my terror and fear had vanished after watching the young woman fall on her rear because of a frog. Occultist or not, it was hard to imagine anyone being afraid of cute little Odamere.

“So then,” Shelly said as she escorted me to a cozy nook in the house where we could see out the window. There was a garden full of strange looking birds, black feathered beasts with long bills and bright red eyes. Some were stork-like while others were the size of finches. “How can I be of service, my dear?”

“You seem to know more about my arrival than I do,” I said, sitting on a pile of pillows that had looked like a couch. It was quite comfortable, despite the fact that I was on the floor.

“Ahhhh, indeed! The spirits tell us many things,” Shelly said, pulling her goggles down onto her eyes. Bright green jewels were in the center of the goggles and they sparkled with eldritch energy. “For example, there are quite a few dead gnomes following you around! They’re quite mad, you see!”

I swallowed hard and looked around. How long had they been watching me? “My hand was forced,” I said to her. “I meant no harm to any and I wouldn’t have laid a finger on anyone if I had been left alone.”

Shelly nodded and pulled the goggles off her eyes, sliding them back up to where they seemed to permanently reside. “I figured as much. Tell me, do you know much about Necro-diving?”

“Necro-diving?” I repeated, swallowing again. Odamere croaked a little warning.

“Death is so scary to many of us,” Shelly said as she stood up and walked to a stuffed raven. At least, I thought it was. It had red eyes and a yellowed beak like the other strange birds outside. “But not to the Occultist! Not to the scientist magician! Everyone thinks that sorcery is superior but even sorcerers die. But you know what never dies? The human soul! The essence of man! We remain and that means death is nothing more than a second form. A greater one.”

“How can you know that for sure?” I asked. “Many have purported to have overcome death but none has ever returned.”

“So you say!” Shelly said, wagging a finger at me. “But have you ever spoken with the dead? Had tea with a corpse? Whispered to a spirit? There is a world surrounding us right now, a world far more potent than anything the demonic could ever imagine.”

“So your power isn’t from demons?” I asked.

Shelly frowned at that question. “Er, that’s complicated. Occultists prefer to use devils for their work.” She tapped her goggles. “For example, the Death Specks, as I like to call them, have twin devils that provide me with the ability to see the Astral Plane and all the dead within.”

“You keep saying that word. Astral,” I said. “What is this? I have not heard of it.”

“Have you heard the term celestial?” Shelly asked.

“Of course, it once pertained to the gods and angels who served them,” I said.

“Without the gods to maintain the celestial realms, they have simply melted down into primal, esoteric energy. A world hidden upon our own. The Astral Realm,” the woman explained as she hopped up. She certainly had trouble sitting still, that was for sure.

Carefully, as if she were walking a tight-rope, Shelly walked across the room, arms out and precariously keeping her balance. “Each step in the Astral Realm is a fundamental exploration of a world beyond our own. Some think it’s a simple overlay but that is only the first level. There are such depths to the place of the dead, the great crypt, that it would take your breath away!”

“And you navigate such a thing for what purpose?” I ask.

“For my own case?” Shelly said, looking up at me from her pantomime. “Purely academic. I have an insatiable curiosity, I must simply know everything. And when I learned that most everything has already been written down, I turned my mind to the occult sciences. What I have found is far greater than anything a mere book could promise.”

“Books don’t require one to kill themselves to get them,” I replied. “But who am I to judge? I believe this is yours?”

I produced the Puzzle Box from my bag and raised it up to her.

“Aha!” Shelly squealed as she grabbed the box from me and inspected it. “Just what I needed. Pazu’s Puzzle Box. I assume the great demon gave it to you himself?”

“Indeed,” I said. “What do you need it for?”

“I’m in the midst of doing some work for the Imperial Cult,” she replied. “And I’m going to need a safeguard.”

“Do demons stalk the Astral Plane?” I asked.

“Oh very much so,” Shelly said as she placed the box on a shelf. I couldn’t help but notice there were a few other similarly shaped boxes next to Pazu’s piece. What did they do?

As Shelly placed the puzzle box, words flashed across my vision. Pazu’s Blessing Has Been Bestowed! You may now Rebuke Demons once per day.

Rebuke Demon: Invoke the name of Pazu once per day to cause any Demons in the area to become Rebuked. Weaker demons are repelled while stronger ones are forced to cower for a few moments.

Quest Completed! also appeared in my vision, bringing with it a grand total of 300 XP. That was enough to level up! Though I’d have to do that once I was finished with my visit to Miss Shelly.

“So I simply must know, how exactly did you predict my arrival?” I asked.

“Necro-diving,” Shelly exclaimed as she returned to her tight rope act, making her way across the living room to bring us some tea. “Portents. Visions of the future. I bet you’re wondering why they were trying to kill you.”

That caught my attention immediately. I lifted my head and looked at the grinning little woman. She had a fiendish smile, like a fox that had just caught a mole in its den. “And I bet you’re willing to do anything to get answers, too, aren’t ya?”

Chapter 26

The room was filled with a disturbing amount of skulls and crystals. It was a cramped quarters, barely large enough for me to fit in comfortably. I sat at a small round table, my hand gently placed in between the small palms of Shelly. She was staring at my hand lines intently, carefully scrutinizing.

“So… anything?” I asked.

“Shhh,” she hissed, staring down at a particular line. I could feel her hot breath on my hand and it tickled. I tried not to move but it was difficult to sit still. “Stop wriggling.”

“I apologize but how can a hand line show you anything?” I said.

“Ancestors, dumbass,” she said as if that explained everything. Her eyes turned to a corner on my wrist and she tilted it a little. “Aha! So I see all.”

“What?” I asked. She released me and pulled out a little bottle of gin. Uncorking it, she took a sip and then offered me some. I refused. Lancemans did not drink gin, for it was legendarily something that did not agree with our systems. The last time I had it, my hangover lasted almost a week.

“So, allow me to explain,” the woman said, opening her mouth wide to spill the beans. A loud crash outside interrupted her, however, and she let out a yelp. “What was that?”

Windows shattered all over the building and the entire place shook. Shelly leapt up and rushed to the door but I grabbed her and threw her onto the ground just in time. The frame exploded as four gnomes burst in, crossbows aimed straight at me.

“Target acquired,” one of the men said as he fired his shot.

I don’t know how we survived but every single bolt missed. The men all looked at me and then each other, shocked. Their guns started to twang as screws began to undo themselves, tension knots unloosing and bolts falling out.

Quickly, I grabbed my scroll of Conjure Goblin and cast it, expertly commanding the language of the ancient world. Golden sparks appeared and the squat beast burst forth from the ether, seizing the gnomes with its long claws.

In a panic, one of the gnomes drew out a gleaming orange bottle and threw it on the ground. Flames burst forth and began to wrap around the old house.

“No, no, no!” Shelly cried as she crawled out from underneath me. “Spirits, help!”

The flames flickered for a moment but the ghosts of the house could not stop the spread of the lire. I grabbed the small woman and ducked my head down, sprinting through the group of now dead gnomes.

More crossbows fired at us as I ran through the house, carrying Shelly as she beat against my chest. “Stop, let me go!”

“This place is about to burn to the ground,” I replied, leaping through an open window. Thankfully we were only on the first floor so this was safe to do. Outside, I could see a flank of gnomes waiting for me.

I released the woman as I went to grab a scroll of fireball, yet I was too slow. More bolts fired straight towards us but Shelly was having none of it. She raised her hands and screamed angrily, shouting curses as green energy collected in the air.

The bolts turned in midflight, bending in impossible ways, spinning towards their masters and then firing with twice the speed of a regular crossbow. The men were punctured with ease. Their bodies rose up, illuminated with green fire as they began to reload, assisted by floating bolts. But their aim wasn’t directed at me this time, it was at the other assassins who were climbing out of the burning building.

Shelly and I scrambled forward, coughing and hacking as the smoke filled the air. My assassins were dead or at least warded for now; unfortunately, the poor Occultist’s home was going up in smoke.

“My home!” the woman bemoaned as she fell to her knees. “All those precious artifacts!”

“Shouldn’t there be a fire brigade?” I asked, looking around. No one was coming out to help. Not even a single window or shutter had opened to view the spectacle either. Wait! I had an ice scroll! Maybe that could work.

I uncorked the canister and pulled the scroll out. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

Shouting the command words, I unleashed an icy torrent upon the walls of the burning house. Smoke and steam rose up instantly as the elements clashed… still, my power wasn’t enough.

“Damn it,” I swore, forgetting myself entirely.

“Ah well,” Shelly said, as she lit a cigarette and pulled her goggles down. They gleamed in the light of the fire. “They say you don’t really make it as an occultist until you’ve burned your house down, so I guess that means I’m in the club now.”

“What about the puzzle box?” I asked.

“Anything really strong is safe and sound but…” Shelly said as she stared out at the flames. “There are a lot of devils breaking out of their containers. I’ll have to come back later when they’re…less vengeful.”

“There’s an odd tavern by the name of Norm’s,” I said. “You could stay there in the meantime.”

“Nah,” Shelly said as she grabbed me by the arm and tugged it. “I’m sticking with you. Astral charts never lie. This place was always going to burn, one way or another. And I’m supposed to go with you, to the great ant hive where you live.”

“Archive,” I said.

“Archive!” she exclaimed, smacking her head. “That makes much more sense than ant hive. Though I must admit I’m a little disappointed now.”

Another addition to the building? That was quite a few people populating my Archive now. But what did Shelly want from me? I suppose I’d have to ask later, for we were out in the open and exposed. I couldn’t risk sticking around if the gnomes were coming after me again.

“Let’s get the hell out of…” I said, feeling a burning against my chest.

You have a Quest in the City that prevents you from leaving! a warning said as it flared in my sight. Hell, I thought I could slough it off for a lot longer. I guess the coin bound me from leaving the city.

“Go to Norm’s,” I said. “Find Taggart and the crew, tell them you’re with me.”

“Got it,” Shelly said, saluting me. “Enjoy your prison steak.”

“Prison break,” I corrected her.

Chapter 27

There was no experience gained from my encounter with the gnomes. I suppose Shelly’s presence and the spirits who aided us in survival gained the points instead. But still, I had leveled up and was facing a strange task, so it was best to prepare in a local library. My archivist’s license was able to get me in without a problem and no one was going to bother me as I worked in the corner of a dusty third floor.

You Have Leveled Up!

Select a Mastery Rank to Increase:

Scrollmaster: 1

Bookbinder: 0

Inkcaster: 0

Scrollmaster was a fine choice so far. I was pleased with the results and I wasn’t about to change horses in the middle of a race. Better to continue developing one discipline, for as many levels as it takes to get a satisfying level of power. The other two Masteries would have to wait.

You gain 1 Scroll Feat!

Please Select From Below:

Extra Spells: Gain 3 New Spells.

Rebounding Spell: If your spell is deflected, it rebounds towards the enemy anyway.

Extra Charges: Scrolls gain 1 additional use.

Activation Mark: Adds an Activation Mark to a scroll. By touching the mark, you activate the scroll without needing to cast the spell out loud. Only you may use the Activation Mark. You may only have one at any given time.

Quick Draw: You are able to pull a Scroll out in response to any danger that presents itself.

Fast Caster I: Increases your spellcasting speed by 50%.

Memories of the most recent attack by the gnomish assassins came flashing back to my mind as I read Quick Draw. If it hadn’t been for the spirits occupying Shelly’s home, I would have been riddled full of holes like Tardovian cheese. Quick Draw would have let me pull out a scroll to use as a shield from those shots. And then if I took Fast Caster the next level, I’d be able to pull and shoot in response to any danger. That was one combo I couldn’t walk away from!

You gain 2 Spells to add to your spell list!

Rune of Sealing: Trap a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Deflection Shield: Blocks all ranged attacks from striking you for 10 minutes.

Spike Burst: Fire a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

Crystal Arrows: Create 5 Crystal Arrows that pierce all armor. Must be fired out of a bow.

Hypnotic Sphere: Create a sphere of energy that hypnotizes all who gaze at it. Especially effective against humans.

Stone of Enlightenment: Create a Stone of Enlightenment. While wearing this stone on your person, you gain Mental Clarity, resisting all psychic and mental attacks.

Conjure Skeleton: Summons a Skeletal Warrior to serve as your aid.

Journey of the Moon: Teleport 1 mile in a random direction.

Shroud of Familiarity: Strangers regard you as an old friend, though they can’t quite remember how they know you.

Energy Lance: Fire a lance of energy that pierces through any magical defenses.

More spells to add! They were all useful in their own way but I paid special mind to Shroud of Familiarity. I was about to try and break a cultist out of jail, what better way than to simply walk up to the guards like we were old buddies? And if that failed, I’d take Deflection Shield and cast it ahead of time. No reason not to get ahead of the trouble!

My character sheet updated instantly as I made the selections, showing me everything I needed to know about my own abilities. This was quite handy for making new scrolls in preparation for the adventure to come!

I had plenty of ink to work with, so there was no reason I shouldn’t make at least one scroll of each. My scrollcase on my hip only had five canisters. I suppose I’d need to get a better one in the future. Or maybe a bandoleer. That would be a fashionable and handy accessory.

As I wore down my supply of ink, I started to realize that I was getting close to needing to ration it. Maybe I should visit my darling Enoja on the way home to see if she had gained any additional ink or a lead to where her tribe would be. I’m sure I could trade with them for more.

With only 10 uses left for my ink, I decided to make an extra Fireball, Deflection Shield and Shroud of Familiarity. One could never have too many scrolls of fireball and defense, I say! Now then, let’s see if these would be sufficient tools to gain entry into that prison, shall we?

Chapter 28

Rioter’s Keep was technically part of Reinboldt, though it was actually an island four miles in the bay. Getting passage to the imposing tower was difficult but eventually I found a ferryman who was more than pleased to take a gold coin in exchange for smuggling me across the waterway.

I shivered as the boat glided through the water, the cold mists of the morning rolling in hard. Above I could see the red sky grow lighter and lighter, almost to the point of being pink. The closest thing we had to daybreak in the days after the loss of our sun god.

Ekillian had been the great carrier of the sun, hoisting it upon his back every morning as he rose high above the heavens, lifting the sphere for all to see. His hands had been too occupied the day the humans had attacked and they were sliced off at the shoulder. Some say the land fell into the sea and formed entirely new continents, strange and mysterious places where madness and fire reign supreme, but I have my doubts of such rumors.

Regardless of the fate of his arms, the rest of Ekillian was slain brutally and his heart was placed high in the heavens to serve as our new light. The red pulse forever tainted the sky, however, and in places where the demons are strongest is where the red is greatest. Some believe this to be a coincidence while others think they are linked. Myself? I don’t have enough data to make a decision just yet.

“Dead men ahead,” my smuggler comrade, a nameless bearded fellow, whispered as our boat drew near an overturned vessel. It was sinking in the waters and I could see dozens of corpses floating face down. Small tendrils rose up from the black sea to drag the bodies down.

I gripped the side of the boat as we sailed past the wreckage. No amount of magic would save me from drowning and I certainly had no idea how to swim. Water was not a thing Usireners think much about.

“I thought the uberkraken was a myth,” I said.

“Myths don’t sink ships,” the man remarked.

I nodded at that, holding my breath. Eventually we made it to the docks where a few guards were waiting. The man held up a mirror in the fog and tilted it towards the red light of the sky. The gleaming light flickered once, then twice towards the guards and they quickly excused themselves from the area.

“Twenty four hours, I’ll be right back here,” he said. “If you’re coming in hot, I’ll take you to the underbelly of the bay. If you’re coming in clean, I’ll take you right back to Reinboldt.”

“You’ll still stay if I’m being chased?” I asked.

The smuggler grinned. “You don’t get old in this job without learning to love the chase. I’ve yet to lose a race against anything in the sea.”

I almost waited for the kraken to attack us but no such thing happened as we glided silently up to the dock. The guards were gone from the area and the fog was still quite heavy. I could make my way to the front of the prison without being spotted.

I pulled my hood up and prepared my spell scrolls. “Wish me luck,” I said.

“Who would give it to you?” the man replied. This was a common phrase, since the twin goddesses of luck had been drowned in the sea. Now they say there was no fate or destiny beyond that of a single roll of the dice. No one could plead for a reroll, which was what luck was believed to be. A second chance, a defiance of the odds. The ability to escape from one’s fate.

I suppose without luck, I’d have to forge my own destiny. I cast Shroud of Familiarity upon myself as I climbed out of the boat, feeling the energy swirl around me. I didn’t physically feel different…though my head felt a little lighter. More at ease, perhaps?

I approached the great, imposing Rioter’s Keep. The prison was in the center of the small island and was partially built into the side of the incline. Huge mounted turrets with ballistae were atop four towers and they were on swivels. Animated suits manned the turrets, moving them back and forth, sweeping left and right as they kept watch for escaping prisoners. I could see tethers attached to the bolts on the ballista, meaning they were meant to hook runners and pull them back. No doubt that would be excruciating to feel.

A guard emerged suddenly from the bushes, zipping up his trousers. “Morning,” he said, waving to me as he resumed his patrol. His reaction to me was so natural that I was caught entirely by surprise. I merely stood and stared as he walked off, minding his own business. I guess the shroud was working!

The gate to Rioter’s Keep was made of pure iron and had several layers to it. The walls were an imposing thirty feet tall, well out of range for my stonewall ability. Though, perhaps with the magic of the shroud I didn’t need to rely on bypassing the gate the old-fashioned way. Instead, I walked right up to where a guard was manning a smaller mounted crossbow.

“Morning!” I said, waving to him.

“How’d you get out there?” the guard questioned. “Uh…wait, who are you again?”

“They wrote ahead about me,” I said. “Everyone was expecting me. I’m here to speak to the Warden.”

“Ahhhh, yes that’s how I know you,” the guard said. “Hang tight, I’ll get the door.”

Just like that? Easy enough!

The wheels of the gates grinded loudly, protesting their work as they began to rotate, pulling the ropes upwards. The large steel barriers rose, one at a time. I had to stop in between each gate and wait for the one behind me to shut before the next to lift. A handy way to ensure no one was able to breach easily. Such layers indicated that the people in this prison were either very dangerous or the owner was incredibly tyrannical. Although I suppose there was no law that prevented both from being the case.

Dozens of guards were in the common area of the courtyard, training, talking and eating. Training targets were set up in the corners and archers were firing constantly. A sergeant trotted up to me, dressed in full armor.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. He didn’t seem affected by the shroud at all. But I was inside already, I had an air of credibility.

I puffed my chest out and showed him my archivist’s license, thrusting the paper in such a way that he couldn’t actually read what was on it. “How dare you, sir! I was invited to speak personally to the warden!”

The man balled a fist and readied to take a swing at me but something stopped him. He stared at me intently for a moment. “Wait…I vaguely recall something about this.”

“Yes, a letter mentioned my arrival,” I said. The fiction seemed to work in tandem with the Shroud and the sergeant slowly nodded.

“Yes, a letter,” he repeated. “Warden is located on the third floor. I’ll have someone take you to him.”

The sergeant barked out some orders and a scrawny man rushed up to me. He looked barely able to hold the weapon at his side, let alone the armor on his body. My escort took me up the side ramp leading into one of the halls of the great fortress. It was here I could see the prisoners.

There were hundreds of men and women, all shaved and chained together. They were sitting at long tables, eating in compete silence as an animated suit stood over the group. The machination held a whip in his hand and whenever someone dared to utter a syllable, he would crack it over their heads. The second time he would strike them.

“One automaton to watch hundreds of prisoners?” I asked.

“Where are they going to go?” my escort replied as he led me up a stairwell. “This place is surrounded by water. They’re chained together. No one wants to drag anyone else along with them.”

“And what are their crimes?” I asked.

“You name it,” the man replied. “Rape, murder. Theft. Political dissident. Practicing magic without being a sorcerer.”

That last one made my hair raise on end. That was illegal in Reinboldt? Oops. Oh well, I was about to leave this city anyway.

We reached a large wing where a few prisoners were working quietly. These men and women were still shaved (even their eyebrows were missing) but they lacked chains. They were redecorating the walls of the prison, some even had tools in their hands.

“Political dissidents?” I asked, motioning to the group as we walked past them.

“Good eye,” the young man said. “Enemies of the senators or former senators. They’re usually waiting on a pardon so we just let them do some basic maintenance and wander the premise.”

“Seems smart not to make an enemy out of a man who could be restored to power,” I agreed.

“That’s what they all tell us. ‘Before you smack a prisoner, ask yourself, where will that man be in ten years?’” he quoted as we reached a large round door. He slapped the wooden door with the back of his knuckle. “That’s as far as I go. Warden is in there.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Any time, Phil,” the man said, saluting me as he wandered off, leaving me entirely alone. This familiarity shroud was quite strong. The effects were still working too, I bet I could get the warden to actually pardon the prisoner in question!

I opened the door to the warden’s office and was immediately greeted by a cold draft. A chill ran through my entire system as I entered the long hallway. It was incredibly dark; there were no torches or lightstones on the sconces in the walls. Just darkness and cobblestone.

“I smell a stranger,” a deep voice rumbled. The entire ground beneath me shook as the contemptuous sound washed over me. A demon! A demon was the warden?

Before I could turn to run, a long tendril seized me by the leg and knocked me to the floor. I didn’t resist, knowing that he could call an alarm at any time. I was dragged along the ground up to a huge, black writhing mass that was fused into the wall.

The pulsating body had a hundred eyes, all purple and bulbous. They stared at me, my reflection looking up at them helplessly.

“A nobleman,” the Warden said as he released me. “Why are you here? How have you gotten past the guards?”

I could use Pazu’s rebuke to stun him! But demons weren’t irrational. Cruel and powerful, yes, but not mindlessly hungry. They had wants and desires. Bargaining was possible. And it was often said that if you were alive in the presence of a demon, it usually wanted to make a deal. Otherwise it simply would have killed you.

“I’m a man who has unfortunately been gang-pressed into a job he’d rather not be doing,” I confessed as I climbed to my feet and dusted myself off. “I’m here to negotiate the release of a prisoner.”

“One does not negotiate releases with me,” he growled. The entire room shook as he burbled something indiscriminately. “You are running out of time, little man.”

I brushed myself off to show I wasn’t worried. “That is no way to speak to a Lanceman,” I said.

“Your blood is absent of magic, but you still stink of it,” the Warden said. “I do not know how you use power but you are no Lanceman. Not in truth.”

“You sound like the rest of my family,” I said. “But I command great power. And I will not be spoken down to by the likes of a mere tool of the state.”

“I am no tool!” the beast roared. Tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs, pulling tautly in four directions at once. He threatened to rip me limb from limb but I kept my cool. This was a battle of wills, a fight for mental dominance. This creature couldn’t possibly handle being considered lesser and killing me would just prove his point.

“But you said you do not negotiate,” I said. “That means you have no sovereignty. No control over this realm.”

“Rioter’s Keep has been in my control for hundreds of years. Not a single prisoner has escaped outside of my desire!” he snarled. “I could slay them all in a moment, drain the life from every single being here and escape into the night’s sky.”

“But you don’t,” I said. “Why not?”

The Warden paused for a moment and slowly lowered me to the floor. “There are things that even a demon fears, mortal.”

“Then tell me those fears,” I replied. “And let me soothe them. For a price, of course.”

Chapter 29

The Great Warden was a hideous demon, huge in size but lesser in power. He was no Principality or even a Power. He was just a lesser demon who happened to be gigantic in the physical realm. And psychically powerful.

The Warden’s mind could reach out and seize hold of any prisoner within the Keep at any time. With a mere focus of his thoughts, he could put them in such pain that rendered their escape impossible. Turning up the intensity could kill every last person on this island, myself included.

But despite such strength in our land, he was a prisoner to a greater demon. Kazan the Bleeder, famed for his power to make humans bleed to death, was the dominant Power in the Pomic Bay. Kazan’s political allegiance was to the city itself, he worked closely with the various senators, granting them great powers in exchange for whatever he desired.

Kazan would be impossible for me to fight, of course. But the Warden didn’t need me to battle the Power himself. Rather, he just needed me to enter into the dungeon beneath the island itself and find the Golden Chain that Kazan had used to imprison the Warden.

Elephant Skull Reef was the name of the semi-hidden dungeon inside of Rioter’s Keep. Built by Kazan himself, this place was meant to house the Golden Chain and was filled with all manner of nasty traps and devils powering them. Kazan gained power from all who died within the dungeon, and so access to the place was free. Any prisoner could go down in if they felt like trying their luck, for freeing the Warden would be a sure ticket to getting one’s own freedom.

The Warden, eager to escape, struck a simple deal with me. If I were able to break the golden chain and free him from Kazan’s control, he would grant any one prisoner their freedom. The demon had no intention of leaving his post as Warden, for he enjoyed the control of so many lives in his tendrils. He simply wanted his sovereignty, same as any, I suppose.

I had never fancied myself to be a dungeon delver, as there was considerable danger within the many hidden crypts and shrines in the world. But the offer was too tempting to refuse. It would be far easier to locate a magical chain than try to outrun the hundreds of guards who manned this island. I hadn’t quite been planning to break the man in question out anyway, as there were plenty of ethical concerns to a dangerous rescue.

There was another reason I wanted to go down into the Elephant Skull Reef: books. Call me an obsessed man but I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the secrets that might be hidden within the libraries and archives of the dungeons.

Many dungeons were constructed by priests and paladins during the last years of the great war against the gods. Those who still believed and practiced their faith hadn’t been excised from the land just yet and they dug into their positions, building dangerous lairs to protect themselves. Now fractured, these cults dotted Usiren for a few decades before they eventually died out. Many times, demons found the lairs and settled down, bringing even more esoteric and ancient literature to their collection.

This was one thing that made demons distinctly different from the human race. While humans in the modern age crave new things and innovation, the demonic were fascinated with the past. They were consummate collectors of ancient treasures and often had possessions that were held for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Dungeon delvers, Devil Robbers as they were often called, made a career out of retrieving these relics and selling them to antiquarians.

Now I would have a chance to enter into such a place on my own, free to explore and learn the history of the place. What if there had been a shrine there? What if some ancient religion had left behind texts that could teach even more about the world before? I practically raced my way down into the darkness of the depths.

No one bothered me once the Warden had cleared me to stay. My familiarity shroud lasted for another two hours, leading to quite a few guards awkwardly avoiding me as they couldn’t remember how they knew me. I made my way down into the Elephant Skull Reef, armed with as much exploration gear as I could carry.

I considered bringing the cultist in question, Hermas Lako, along with me but realized that if he died in the process I’d be screwed. What would the quest coin do to me if that happened, I wonder? Would it kill me or just deactivate? Something told me it wouldn’t go well.

So, alone, I entered the maw of the reef, my boots splashing against the soft, wet dirt as I trudged through the partially sunken lair.

Water was coming in from a hole in the wall, slowly pouring into the dungeon. The building was large enough for most of the liquid to run off to the sides but it was still forming in pools up to my ankles. I suppose in a few years, the entire place would be underwater. That would make it even harder to breach. Better gather whatever books I could find now. I mean the chain. Better focus on the chain.

I raised my lantern high, adjusting the nozzle to allow the fire gas within to activate. Light emanated throughout the chamber, revealing a great figure of an elephant skull before me. Words were carved on the side of each tusk.

To all who enter, your freedom is possible. Break the chain and return home.

In between the mouth of the skull was a passage leading to dry ground. An incline led up to a medium sized hole in the wall, large enough for a wagon to pass through.

First and foremost, I drew out my scroll of Conjure Goblin. There was no way I was going to go first in any of these rooms!

Hooking the lantern on my belt, I cast the spell quickly as I could, bringing forth the squat beast once more. It looked at me knowingly and barreled forward. There was a sound of a snap, followed by the twinging of a line on the ground.

A huge log came swinging down from the inside of the passageway, slamming into the goblin and shattering it into a thousand pieces of magical energy.

“Oh great,” I mumbled as I watched the golden sparks disperse everywhere. “That was my only scroll of summoning. Should have thought that one through a little more…”

I guess I’d have to be more careful. Trap Disabled! 200 XP gained! appeared in my vision as I walked forward. My eyes scanned the ground, looking for any signs of ropes or tripwires but I could see nothing.

I made it through the passageway without any incident. My movement was terribly slow however. But I couldn’t take any risks here. One wrong move and I was done for. Maybe it would be best to cast my shield spell that I had recently acquired. I only had three of those scrolls though and they only lasted ten minutes a piece. I was moving too slowly to gain such a benefit…unless I was willing to just trigger random traps and hope my defenses held.

I was not a gambling man, so I kept my spell scroll holstered as I came to a cross in the passage. The walls to the right were slick and wet, an incline leading down into deep water. On the left was a wider hallway that led to an expanse. Ahead there was a dead end, so I suppose I had to choose. Swim or walk?

Better not risk getting my scrolls damaged yet. I turned to the left and headed into the wide, circular room. Ahead, I could see a huge pit, a feeble rope bridge strewn across the gaping maw. There was wind in the area, because the bridge was softly moving up and down.

Wait…wind blowing up? I glanced over the edge of the cliff to see there was a massive, six-headed hydra lying at the bottom of the pit. The beast had the body of a horse, though claws instead of hooves and six, snake-like heads that had hoods like a serpent. I laid flat against the ground at the sight of the beast.

Its heads were stacked up on top of each other, snoozing heavily. The hot air from its many nostrils was blasting upwards, causing the rope bridge to sway.

Dead gods! What was I supposed to do with a beast that huge? Hydras were dangerous creatures that could rapidly regenerate their wounds. No doubt it had been placed in here to kill anyone who dared to cross that bridge.

What should I do? That monster would be able to tear me to pieces in a matter of seconds. Even if my shield spell held against a few bites, it would probably just swallow me whole!

Chapter 30

The snoozing hydra was completely oblivious to my presence. Gritting my teeth, I carefully stepped across the bridge, holding the rope for dear life as the vast thing swung up and down. What was I doing? Why was I here? I should be back home, drinking a nice warm cup of tea and reading a book. Why in the hell was I trying to sneak past a hydra?

The answer did not come to me as I froze, the great beast startling for a moment. It roared and rolled over, its heads burying themselves under its body as it continued to sleep. Whew. I decided to test my luck at the halfway point and hurried across, silently stepping the entire way.

There were no gods left to thank for the fact that my boots were soft-leather and were made exquisitely. They made no sound as I stepped and I was able to control myself with ease. I made it to the other end of the bridge, safe and sound.

Still holding my breath, I dashed across the cliffside, to the nearest entrance I could see, a small hole cut in the side of the wall. I scurried up the hole and scrambled to my feet. Sneaking Past Six! 200 XP gained!

A man, ragged and bearded, was nestled on a makeshift cot of straw in the corner of the room. He was missing a leg but had wrapped it tightly with a bandage. The blood was black and matted, indicating he had taken this injury quite some time ago.

The man sat up and grabbed a spear, also makeshift, from the side of his bed and raised it towards me. “Stay the hell back! I mean it!”

“Calm yourself,” I said, hissing at him. “Lest you rouse that awful creature sleeping in the pit.”

“Sixhead?” the man grumbled. “A shame you didn’t kill him.”

“How’d you manage to survive?” I asked, walking slowly over to him. The man kept the spear up for a moment but once he realized I didn’t even carry a weapon, he lowered it.

“Not easily,” he said. “Found this damn cell and been hiding for a few weeks.”

“Are you a prisoner of the Keep?” I asked, glancing at his injury. Would my heal spell cure it? The description did say that it restored the body to its best form. Did that include restoring his missing leg?

“Aye,” the man said, rubbing his face. He smacked his lips together as he glanced at the bottle on my belt. I uncorked the canteen and handed to him. He eagerly drank it down, gasping for air in between sips. “I came down here to test my luck, to get back home to my beloved family. Didn’t get terribly far.”

On the wall, there was a crude carving of a map. I glanced at it curiously. “Is this yours?”

“Nay,” he replied, lying back as he tossed the empty canteen aside. “That was a fine drink. Now I can die in peace.”

“Afraid I have other plans for you,” I said, unfurling my scroll of healing. “Now hold still.”

Before the man could protest, I cast the spell, sending a wave of green energy towards the prisoner. Instantly, his leg regrew, bursting forth from its bandage. The man’s body grew fat and even his beard became trimmed. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds.

“What…how the hell?” he gasped, standing up and looking at his new leg. He touched it a few times. “Oh I understand. I must have gone mad. This is all a hallucination.”

“Nope,” I replied, reaching a hand out. “I’m Napoleon.”

“Brackstone,” the man said, shaking my hand eagerly. “At your service! I was once a knight, sir. For the price of my leg, I’ll follow you into battle anywhere!”

Brackstone looked better than he had probably in ages. His malnutrition had been cured and his body was robust and full. He was muscular and hulking. The spear now looked terrifying in his capable hands.

“Glad to hear that,” I said. “Because I think the only way out is through that damn hydra.”

“It is,” Brackstone replied, tapping on the map. “We’re here, there’s a water filled corridor we need to go through in order to get to the chain. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here, right?”

The corridor in question was the one I had passed earlier. If I had gone that way, I might never have met this stranger.

“Yes,” I replied. “Though, I fear there may not be a way for me to free you in addition to the man I am here to rescue.”

“You saved my life once already,” Brackstone said. “I’d rather go back to prison than languish in that hole. Better to live on my feet than die on my back.”

It was good that Brackstone was ready to fight, for I did not know if we would be able to sneak past the Hydra once more. We climbed out of the hole, quietly as we could. The man was not as stealthy as me, however, and the moment he stepped on a board, there was a loud creaking sound that emanated through the entire room.

Immediately, Sixhead was awake, his eponymous heads rushing up out of the pit to see what had made the noise. Spotting Brackstone, the creature let out a hideous, syncopated shriek that sent shivers down my spine. All heads spat out acid at once, firing a stream straight at the man.

Fortunately, the former knight was fast on his feet. He dodged out of the way just as the stream of burning green liquid struck the bridge, melting through the ropes instantly. I grabbed him and pulled him up into the hole before the beast could chase after us. It let out a scream of anger, spitting more acid onto the walls but the substance wasn’t enough to melt through. We cowered in the corner, holding each other for a few minutes until the sound of the hydra faded. The beast had lost interest in us. And we had lost the bridge.

“Damn it,” I said, grabbing my scrolls and pulling them out of their holsters. “This is going to be a lot more messy.”

“Are you some kind of reading sorcerer?” Brackstone asked as I read through my various spells. Fireball would be enough to harm the creature significantly. I just needed it to be distracted while I got the spell off. Damn, I should have done this while it was sleeping. A surprise fireball would have been much easier to pull off.

“I’m a Scrollmaster,” I explained, picking up my scroll of Deflection Shield. It lasted ten minutes and could be cast on anyone, not just myself…interesting. “Tell me, do you have faith in magic?”

Chapter 31

Brackstone did not have faith in magic, me or my explanation of how the spell would protect him. However, we were quite literally cornered and cowering in a hole in the wall; there was little else we could do. The man would have to be bait and target practice while I prepared my fireball scrolls. I really wish I had been able to take Fast Caster before this…

A glowing blue shield of deflection energy encompassed the former knight as he climbed out of the hole, carefully watching his step this time. The hydra was alert and waiting. It couldn’t reach him with its heads but it could spit acid. Globs of concentrated green goo came flying towards him but the spell activated at once.

Blue energy warped the air around Brackstone, shielding him from the spray of acid. “I’m alive!” he shouted to me. “I’m alive!”

“Run, my good man!” I yelled. This prompted the knight to dash across the land, getting the focus of all six heads on him.

I quickly crawled out of the hole, scroll in hand. Here goes nothing.

Fireball was a little more complex than the other spells I had in my arsenal but it felt good to say the command words. On the end of my finger, the sphere of heat began to build up rapidly and the warmth was a relief from the icy realm of the dungeon.

As I completed the command words, the fireball leapt off my finger and hurtled into the torso of the great hydra. Flames washed over its entire body as it cried out in agony. I dropped the burnt scroll to the ground and       quickly grabbed the next fireball, readying it.

“Hyaaaa!” Brackstone shouted as he leapt from the edge of the cliff onto the back of the hydra, spearing it hard in the back.

“What are you doing, you maniac?” I shouted down, watching as the heads tried to bite at him. They were burnt badly, however, and he was able to fend them off with ease.

“You softened them up, I’m taking him down!” the warrior replied as he kicked one of the heads off the beast before stabbing his spear deep into the monster’s torso. I had to support the lunatic without killing him somehow…wait a minute, the spell of deflection was still active on him, yes?

All ranged attacks must include my own spells, right? Oh I sure hope so, otherwise I was about to commit the most awful of crimes. I drew out the second scroll of fireball and readied it, trying my best not to avert my eyes as I fired a bolt of magical flames straight into the hydra.

The beast’s wounded back made a perfect entry point for the fireball and the explosion rocked the entire cavern, the lights so great that I was forced to shield my eyes for a moment. “Please don’t be dead…or maimed…or anything because of me…” I bemoaned, looking through my hands to see what was below.

Standing amidst a charred pile of bones and flesh was an incredulous Brackstone. “I’m immune to fire!” he bellowed. “Was this also your intention or did I just discover my own divinity?”

“There are no divines left,” I said. “Afraid that was just my defense spell working.”

Hydra Slain! 500 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as I looked at the corpse. The beast was certainly not going to be regenerating from that any time soon.

“Holy hell!” Brackstone shouted from his position at the bottom of the pit. “There’s treasure down here!”

I toyed with the Stonewall spell, modifying it a little so that it only rose up to five feet. Then I cast the spell twice, the first time to create the step and the second to create the greater incline. Brackstone was tall enough to climb up out of the pit no problem, but he was more excited about the mini cavern he had discovered in the recesses.

I clambered down eventually to see what he was so excitedly talking about. Sure enough, there was a large dug out hole in the wall, similar to the dead end at the top of the pit. Inside, there was a collection of shinies, mostly pieces of gold from the looks of it. Far too much for anyone to be able to carry out on their own.

“This seems strange to me,” I said, watching as Brackstone knelt down and sifted his hands through the huge pile of coins.

“It can get stranger. I’d be swimming through these naked if you weren’t here,” the former knight chuckled as he heaped a pile over his head, allowing the coins to rain down on him.

“I don’t mean your reaction,” I replied, stepping back. Odamere wriggled out of my vest pocket, he had been napping during my entry to the dungeon but now he was awake. He let out a croak, warning me of something.

“My frog doesn’t like it either,” I said, scrutinizing the gold pieces. They were off somehow. But Brackstone kept handling each coin, desperately touching each piece as if it were going to flee him. Eventually he grew more concerned with the coins, falling to his knees and pulling them into a pile, compulsively counting them.

I tried to rouse my companion from his fascination but it was no good. He was mumbling to himself now, talking about all the things he could buy. This was nonsense, he was a prisoner; there was nothing on this island to purchase, save perhaps freedom.

I bent down to investigate a coin but Odamere croaked again. His ribbit seemed to carry a strong sense of an impression. Curse he croaked. Or did I just imagine him saying that? I’m not sure but an image came to my mind, a flash of my hand setting on fire if I touched the gold. It was a trap, like I had suspected.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, putting a hand on Brackstone’s shoulder. The man shrugged me off and grunted something unintelligible.

I grabbed the leather straps on the back of his belt and yanked him upwards as hard as I could but the man was much larger than me. He struggled for a moment and threw me off, returning to his frantic collection of the gold coins. He couldn’t stop handling them, piling them and repeatedly counting each one over and over again. I could see blood beginning to drip from his hands, growing raw from the fact that he was frantically rubbing his fingers against the edges of each coin.

Odamere croaked a suggestion. Hit skull. I didn’t miss it this time, I could understand my familiar a little. His intentions at least. Perhaps this was because I had just leveled up. Maybe our mystic connection was getting stronger.

“Sorry man,” I said, picking up the spear that Brackstone had dropped. I lifted the stick side high over the man’s head and swung down hard.

The damn stick broke over the man’s thick skull. He turned around abruptly and punched me in the gut.

All air was sucked from my lungs as I barreled over, coughing and wheezing.

“The hell is your problem?” Brack yelled as he lifted me up with one hand. “We’re on the same side!”

“Don’t touch the gold!” I said, struggling to get out of the man’s grasp. “It’s cursed!”

“What gold?” Brackstone asked, dropping me. He looked around, his eyes wide. “Holy hell, we’re rich!”

Thankfully Odamere jumped on his eyes before the man could bend down to touch the gold again. I grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him out of the room before he could be tempted any further.

No Fool’s Gold! 150 XP Gained! appeared in my vision. That was a close one. We better be much more careful with what we handle in this dungeon going forward. Though I must say, delving seemed to be a fast track to gaining levels, I was almost at three and I hadn’t even seen the golden chain yet!

Chapter 32

The water was an illusion. Touching the surface caused my hand to move through the murky liquid as if it were air. Pressing my head down revealed I could breathe just fine. That was good, as I did not have waterproof containers for my scrolls. No doubt they’d be ruined if I had to swim through actual water.

We descended the slope and entered into a large square room that had two iron doors, one to the west and the other to the north.

“Careful,” I warned, putting a hand up to stay my companion from barreling forward. “There are all manner of traps in this kind of place.”

Odamere ribbited, warning of something he spotted. A gleaming light encapsulated a thin pressure plate in the middle of the room. It was in between two steps. It seemed my familiar’s eyes were far keener than my own. Glad he was awake for this part of the adventure.

We navigated around the pressure plate and made our way to the northern door. The great frame was made out of iron and three large bars separated us from the other side. I could see a lever behind the bars, just out of reach.

I wedged myself between the metal and tried to reach as best I could but it was no good. The bars were just too small. I couldn’t get to the lever, despite it being half a foot away from my hand. If only I hadn’t broken that spear…

Glancing over to the west, I could see that Brackstone was trying the same approach as me, pushing his arm between the iron bar but to no avail. I tried persuading Odamere to go but he was too stubborn. My shoulder and vest pocket were his preferred living spaces and he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. I suppose that was fair, I didn’t want to see the little guy get hurt doing something on my behalf.

Brackstone grumbled and pulled his arm free of the metal bars. “This is no good. I think it’s a dead end.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge,” I said, moving my hands along the sides of the wall. There were always rumors and stories of secret doors in dungeons. No doubt a room like this would be the prime candidate for an alternative entrance…

My hands found something sticking out amongst the stones. A raised rock could be twisted in one direction, causing a tension mechanism to activate. The western gate raised up as I twisted.

Quickly, Brackstone darted through the gate and pulled the other handle. The northern door slid open and I did my part, rushing in to grab the last lever. I don’t know why we were going so fast but perhaps there was timing to this kind of puzzle.

As I pulled the last lever, a door on the southern side suddenly appeared, sliding open to reveal a room with a scimitar resting on a pedestal.

“Free weapon!” Brack said as he walked towards the southern end. He paused, however, looking at me for permission to advance. It seemed he remembered the last time he handled treasure without thinking.

Odamere didn’t croak any warnings and I didn’t sense anything wrong with the weapon. On the contrary, the thing had a magical aura to it. Magic weapons were rare to find.

“We should take it,” I concluded. “It’s worth the risk.”

“Glad you feel that way,” Brackstone said as he approached the sword, rubbing his hands together. He grabbed the weapon off the pedestal and swung it in the air. It moved fast and light, cutting through the air with a hissing sound as he moved. “It feels lighter than a feather!” the knight exclaimed as he slashed a few more times, expertly moving the weapon. “Certainly not what I was expecting to find in a dungeon!”

“Yes, we should make a note of this,” I said. “A magical weapon found in secret? Perhaps it is the key to defeating the monster in the next chamber.”

“There’s a monster?” Brackstone asked, looking towards the northern passage curiously.

“There’s almost always a monster in these kinds of situations,” I replied. The sound of skittering feet, hundreds of little legs crawling at once, was quite obvious to me. Something awful was waiting for us in the next room and unfortunately for me, I was out of direct attack spells beyond my scroll of ice. Hopefully this magic sword would be able to help us.

Or…maybe we didn’t need to fight it at all. I glanced at the pressure plate that Odamere had made me aware of earlier. Who knows what stepping on it did?

“I’ve a plan,” I said. “Hide in the secret room.”

The knight obeyed without question, hiding as best he could as I headed to the northern area, sticking my head through the passage way to see what was the source of that horrid skittering.

A giant centipede was in the next room over. It was nearly eight feet tall and three feet wide, with a hideous pair of mandibles that dripped with corrosive acid. My eyes went wide at the sight of such a big bug and I immediately knew I had made a mistake in being the bait.

The creature let out a hideous shriek as its antennae suddenly picked me up, my scent now apparent to the beast. It skittered towards me, crashing its entire body forward like a wave against the shores. I fled as fast as I could but I wasn’t in the physical condition to outrun a creature with hundreds of legs.

The giant centipede caught up and rammed me from behind, slamming its head straight into my back. I was thrown into the room I was retreating into, inches away from the pressure plate.

“Holy hell!” Brackstone yelled, running out of the secret room. His sword was high and he was readying to charge the monster.

“Hold!” I yelled, waiting for the creature to enter the room. It was still moving straight towards me. I scooted back, keeping the pressure plate in between the beast and I.

The knight obeyed his orders, falling back just in time. The centipede came charging straight at me, one of its little legs touching the pressure plate in the process. Half a dozen spears came firing out of the ceiling and ground at the same time, skewering the beast from all sides.

Bait and Switch! 500 XP! appeared in my vision as the centipede fell over dead. Sweat poured down my brow as Brackstone helped me up.

“That was your plan?” he asked. “I coulda mopped it up.”

“Doubtful,” I wheezed. Everything was hurting but nothing seemed broken. I glanced at my experience points…1,650 already? I was getting closer to level three by the minute. The only problem was that my scrolls were limited. When would a day pass so I could write a few more? It was impossible to tell down here. Perhaps sleeping for a few hours would regenerate my mana faster…or I could just use the rest of my inks…what was an archivist turned adventurer to do?

Chapter 33

I decided to press on. We had slain the monster in the next room already, so there was no reason not to keep progressing. If I could find a library or archive of some kind, I’d be able to set up shop and work on some more scrolls, but in the meantime, I wanted to keep moving.

The next three rooms were identical and empty. A few wrong turns and it would be easy to get lost. Thankfully I had some chalk and thus we were able to mark the sides of the walls with a simple symbol letting us know where we had been. A diamond meant the area had been explored, a circle meant it was left unchecked.

Brackstone thought I was overthinking the task but I wasn’t so sure. If a demon had built this lair as a means to torment and test prisoners, then he would certainly make sure to add some kind of mind bending maze quality to it. Mental attacks were a favorite of demons, as mankind’s collective mind was far weaker than we’d like to imagine.

And so I kept a strict chalk regimen to ensure we didn’t get lost. My instincts were spot on, for after a while, we started to walk in complete circles, despite the chalk system. This indicated some magical trickery was going on and we were able to find an artifact in the second room that was powering the never-ending door spell. The only trouble was that it was being guarded by an animated spike.

The large metal piece of shrapnel was jagged and illuminated, glowing a soft blue as it floated above the little ball embedded in the ground. There was a small chasm between us and the floating shrapnel, and I suppose that was the only thing keeping it from attacking us. The artifact on the ground, a sphere of some kind, was emanating green energies that were keeping us locked in here.

Brackstone wasn’t afraid of the piece of metal, however, and leapt across the chasm with his new scimitar. He fought off the floating spike, parrying and blocking while I snuck across and smashed the sphere on the ground. This granted me 200 more experience points and immediately deactivated the floating spike which had almost gotten the best of the former knight, though he wouldn’t admit it.

We sallied forth making it into the next unknown room after what had been hours of walking through the same passages, searching for the illusory wall that would lead us to the never-ending sphere. Much to my pleasure, the sight of books and the smell of old-bound leather caught my attention at once. This was a library! I had found what I had been searching for!

“Finally!” I exclaimed, rushing into the room without a second thought. Odamere croaked just in time to stop me from stepping on a trip wire. Very carefully I looked up to see a bottle of some indeterminable substance hanging from a cheese wire. Stepping on the trip trap would have immediately snip-snapped the rope and I’d be doused in acid, fire or any combination of the two. Damn, I needed to be more careful!

Stepping over the tripwire, I entered the library and carefully checked for traps. There were dozens of wires laid out across the entire room, little bottles dangling from the ceiling. They cut in all directions, crisscrossing in the center to form a central nerve cluster. Any motion to any wire could cause everything to fall at once.

“You may wish to hold back on coming in here,” I said, holding a hand up prohibitively to my companion. The man didn’t seem interested in exploring the library anyway.

“Be careful, don’t die over a bunch of books,” he warned, noticing my excitement.

“I’ll be fine, just guard the entrance,” I said, turning my attention back to the bottles above. Perhaps they were part of a scorched earth policy: if an intruder got in, the entire library would be destroyed. A brutal way to end so much history. I simply had to preserve these tomes!

Finding the source of the wires was difficult but thankfully it was possible. From there, I was able to find tension strings that could be pulled to adjust the tension of the wires. With some time, I figured out how to loosen the tension in each tripwire enough to unwind the entire thing. The bottle would lower to the floor rapidly in this case, slowed only by my control of the wire. I had a few moments where I nearly dropped a bottle but thankfully I managed to avoid such a catastrophe. Each mixture was lowered to the ground and disarmed.

Trapkiller! 200 XP! appeared in my vision as the last bottle clinked to the ground. Whew! That was as tedious as it was terrifying. But thankfully I had disarmed every single trap in the library. This was for my own benefit, I suppose, for there were no other entrances or exits in the area. This section was entirely self-contained. No doubt it had been the source of all manner of magical and clerical studies when it was functional, however.

This was real treasure. Knowledge. Information. Secrets of the last thousand years. Secrets from a time when the sky was blue and food grew without the need of intense magical intervention. While the rest of Usiren might mock the idea of looking backwards in order to find the truth, I wasn’t so convinced that it was a fool’s errand. This world was far past a golden age. No matter what the rest of the sorcerers said.

I suppose I only learned such a truth very recently. If I had been given sorcery, my mind would never have landed at such a conclusion. But seeing the world through non-magical lenses, as an ‘inferior’ person, had shown me quite a bit in way of these flaws. For all the magic that we had, purging the farm gods had destroyed a great deal of agricultural knowledge with it. The destruction of agricultural cults as a whole meant that few knew how to actually manage the earth without magic. Divine power wasn’t focused on simply achieving results, its goal was to develop ecosystems. Everything grew from a divine spell, whereas the demonic magic of sorcery simply transferred energy from one vessel to another.

Mankind had given up this precious ecological preservation without realizing it. A divine and arcane spell might look the same when they both cause a potato to sprout but only the divine one would be able to reproduce. To create a new and healthier life. Arcane magic could only transfer the energy and thus, a loss was ensured each time someone used agricultural magic. Same with healing.

You would think, Mainlander, that we would have realized this error and turned to mundane sciences in order to solve the problem. But no. We simply brute forced a new method of crop-turning using our magic and called it a day. Imagine my surprise, weeks into my tenure as an archivist, when I found out that farming methods from a thousand years past were able to feed ten times our populations with a fourth of the effort. Suddenly rationing seemed to make very little sense.

But without the luster of magic, the main class of sorcerer simply doesn’t acknowledge the value of knowledge. Hence why I was cast out so easily by the rest of my kin. To them there is only power and power must prove itself at all times. Not like knowledge and wisdom, two things that could be hidden and used at discretion. Then again, discretion was never a Lanceman’s strong suit.

I found a journal in one of the desks of the library as I searched for items of interest, reflecting on my relationship with knowledge. Study had always been a passion of mine but it hadn’t become a thing of true necessity until after I had been thrown to the wolves. It wasn’t until I realized that I would never become powerful without some other source beyond my own self that I realized the value of knowledge. There are simply some things one cannot generate on their own. To think otherwise is to try and build a world that already exists.

Flipping open the journal, I read the entry curiously, to see what fate had befell the people who kept this library intact…

‘There are no better times than the last days, for it is in those hours that you learn who you truly are.’ This was said by the great poet Windem, but I think he was wrong. For as I reflect in these last hours, I learn nothing about myself and everything about this cruel world. Man cannot be stopped in his hunger for progress, even if it undercuts his true potential. We were fools to ever try to preserve the old ways of light and love. Power and strength are the new ways and they destroy everything in their path. We now go to wherever the gods are, to lie down with our forefathers in the hopes that there will someday be a hereafter. That maybe the gods will return. But in these last hours, I find I simply do not think it will be the case. Maybe that says more about man than myself. I do not know…

The journal outlined a series of terrible tragedies that had levied assault against the followers of the bay goddess, Evenoh. These reef worshippers were a peaceful folk who had been forced to defend themselves from outsiders at first and then traitors from within second. The chronicle was harrowing but I couldn’t put it down. We decided to camp for the night and I read through the entire book, searching for clues about this strange place.

It was in the middle of the book that I found an entry pertaining to the reef itself.

The Elephant Reef was expanded greatly this morning. Carola has outdone herself but that was the last of her magic. She has gone to the waters, same as the rest of the defensive casters. We can no longer give our magic freely, it costs our life to use spells. Therefore, we will have to resort to primarily mundane methods of trapping this building to protect from outsiders. I do not expect us to survive much longer and…

It’s been decided that we will not enchant the Reef with any more spells. The goddess would not want us to spend our life force any further. Instead, we will accept the natural end of things – hah! Natural! As if it were a natural thing to be skewered by one’s own countrymen for no reason beyond a simple difference of opinion! But alas…

Our last ditch effort to secure this place has failed. They will breach any moment now. However, I have made efforts to secure our most precious artifact in a place no one will ever find. But I’m not an unsporting individual, I’m sure some treasure hunter is going to be picking this book from my corpse. I’ll give you a hint, reader. If you want to find the greatest thing Evenoh possesses, you must simply look down.

As I read this last hint, there was a flash in my vision. Journal Read! 300 XP Gained!

That was enough to level me up to three! So quickly too.

As I watched my level increase, my spells immediately refreshed for the day. I was greeted with a bevy of new options to select from with my class advancement.

You Have Leveled Up! You Are Now Level 3!

Select a Mastery Rank to Increase:

Scrollmaster: 2

Bookbinder: 0

Inkcaster: 0

No reason to abandon my strategy now. Continuing my mastery of the scrolls was the best option as it would drastically expand my power level.

You have reached Rank 3 in Scrollmaster.

You gain 1 Bonus Scroll Feat in addition to your usual level Feat!

You gain 2 Scroll Feat!

Please Select From Below:

Extra Spells: Gain 3 New Spells.

Rebounding Spell: If your spell is deflected, it rebounds towards the enemy anyway.

Extra Charges: Scrolls gain 1 additional use.

Activation Mark: Adds an Activation Mark to a scroll. By touching the mark, you activate the scroll without needing to cast the spell out loud. Only you may use the Activation Mark. You may only have one at any given time.

Fast Caster I: Increases your spellcasting speed by 50%.

Recall Spell: Change the scroll in your hand to a spell you have previously cast in the day. This may be done once per day.

Tear In Half: Destroy a Scroll to transfer 2 charges to another scroll.

Two choices this time! Excellent. Fast Caster I was already on my list and I was quick to purchase it. Increasing my ability to cast spells faster than my opponents meant I’d be able to outdraw most sorcerers.

As for my second choice, I was tied between my desire to expand my repertoire versus my wish to increase my spellcasting per day. Extra Charges would mean each scroll could be cast twice, granting me double ammunition. But extra spells granted me 3 additional choices from the ever-expanding spell list that could give me a blend of utility and firepower. Damn…but I already had a decent base of spells, nothing incredible but enough to know what I was crafting next. More ammunition would be better, it would give me the power to stay on my feet in the dungeon longer.

Extra Charges it was. My system updated to show that I was now able to generate 2 uses per scroll that I crafted from now on. Excellent! Now let’s see what spells I had to choose from…

Select 2 Spells:

Rune of Sealing: Trap a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Spike Burst: Fire a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

Crystal Arrows: Create 5 Crystal Arrows that pierce all armor. Must be fired out of a bow.

Hypnotic Sphere: Create a sphere of energy that hypnotizes all who gaze at it. Especially effective against humans.

Stone of Enlightenment: Create a Stone of Enlightenment. While wearing this stone on your person, you gain Mental Clarity, resisting all psychic and mental attacks.

Conjure Skeleton: Summon a Skeletal Warrior to serve as your aid.

Journey of the Moon: Teleport 1 mile in a random direction.

Energy Lance: Fire a lance of energy that pierces through any magical defenses.

Frozen Touch: Confer an icy energy to your hand. Touching a target freezes them in thick ice for an hour. They emerge unharmed at the end of this period.

Lure Light: Create a small sphere of light that attracts anything that observes it to follow. The light will take them on a pointless journey away from the area.

Limited Earth Shape: Create a hammer, chisel or house out of stone for 1 hour.

These were…growing more eclectic as I went down the list. There was no rhyme or reason to these spells, no common theme. Was that the order of leveling up? To just gain random magic? Or was there a better way to…oh, I bet Bookbinder would provide a better way to handle my spells. After all, the scrolls were just a way to cast. The spellbook was how the magician primarily handled themselves. Though, there were just limitations to using them in the field that most sorcerers had a field day slaying wizards.

In theory, the wizard who could learn anything from his ivory tower should have been the one to win the battle. After all, they had unlimited magic and unlimited methods of producing magical objects. An endless arsenal should allow for one to meet any number of problems a sorcerer levied at the wizard but this was not the case, as the arsenal itself was limited to the book. Striking the spellbook straight from the hand of the wizard was very much so their end. It was no contest; even the weakest of demonblood had little trouble taking on the strongest of learned magicians.

And such had been the end of magicians and wizardry in Usiren. The profession discredited and laughed at by all, their books were gathered and destroyed or relegated to the useless archives for indexing. It was in these books that I had first learned the theories of magical ink and Yoak paper.

Perhaps I should put a rank in Bookbinder after this. Taking a page from the wizards of old might not be a bad idea. I just didn’t need to rely on books in order to survive. After all, I had scrolls in hand!

As for the spell selection, I decided to focus on expanding my defensive and offensive capacities respectively. Conjure Skeleton and Energy Lance were the perfect complements to my existing arsenal. Energy Lance would give me a pinpoint attack that could penetrate magical defenses, thus allowing me to free my worries about striking my comrade in combat. And Conjure Skeleton would just give me an additional summon to serve as my proxy in battle. Perhaps this thing would work well with the Goblin.

I finished my selections and watched as my character sheet reconstituted itself, including my new abilities. It was never tiring to see my entire existence neatly summed up in a form – no I’m not being sarcastic, I swear! As an academic, nothing made my heart sing more than data reduced to sheet form!

Name: Napoleon Lanceman

Level: 3

XP: 150/2,800

Ranks

Scrollmaster: 3

Bookbinder: 0

Inkcaster: 0

Feats

Scroll Shield: You may use any magical scroll as a Magic Shield, blocking any number of attacks for 30 seconds. This destroys the scroll in the process.

Fast Scribe: Once per day you can make a scroll in less than a minute. This scroll can only have one charge.

Quick Draw: You are able to pull a Scroll out in response to any danger that presents itself.

Fast Caster I: Increases your spellcasting speed by 50%.

Extra Charges: Scrolls gain 1 additional use.

Spells

Uncontrollable Fire Column: Release a burst of flames in a twenty foot radius. Burns for ten seconds without end.

Healing Burst: Cure all damage in the body and restore it to its best health.

Frost Wave: Freeze everything within a 30 foot circle up to 100 feet away.

Conjure Goblin: Summons a powerful goblin bowhunter to aid you.

Fireball: Create an explosive ball of fire that strikes a target up to 300 feet away.

Stonewall: Raise a 10 foot wall of stone.

Deflection Shield: Blocks all ranged attacks from striking you for 10 minutes.

Shroud of Familiarity: Strangers regard you as an old friend, though they can’t quite remember how they know you.

Energy Lance: Fire a lance of energy that pierces through any magical defenses.

Conjure Skeleton: Summons a Skeletal Warrior to serve as your aid.

Scrolls per Day: 2 + Ink Available.

Charges per Scroll: 2 + Ink Available.

Chapter 34

With my spells refreshed, I was able to produce a Fireball and Energy Lance scroll, both with two charges each. These, when combined with Fast Caster I would turn me into a spellcasting machine. I’d be able to hit anything as quickly as possible. I just needed a target.

Using 4 more rations from my Arithane ink set allowed me to create a few more scrolls as well. Thankfully my new feat was working overtime, granting me additional uses for every ink bottle I used up. Two Conjure Skeletons, one Conjure Goblin and a Deflection Shield for good measure. Six scrolls, two uses each.

I was going to need more canisters for my quick retrieval system. I tucked the extra Conjure Skeleton away, reasoning that would be the one I’d need the least in an emergency. The other scrolls I had, the scant few pieces of bad magic that were uncontrollable and dangerous, were also placed in my satchel, the canister being reserved for the strongest of my spells. Energy Lance was closest to my hand just in case I needed to shoot something coming at me in the blink of an eye.

I felt like one of the royal wandsmiths, back in the days when wands were used by artillerymen and cattlefolk alike. Those small rods made of rare elements that were incredibly difficult to process packed quite a punch and had made the aptly named House Wandsmith quite famous…until the peasants murdered them using demonically granted magic. A wand in the hand was nothing compared to blood in the wrist. At least, that’s what I had been told.

But the blood in my wrists was inert and mundane. I couldn’t rely on anything within me to make me special. My strength was in my ability to adapt to the world around me. To become better than my environment by using it. I would not follow the fate of the wand wielders in this dungeon, at least so I vowed as I rejoined a bored Brackstone outside of the library.

“Are you done?” he asked as I walked up to him, strolling proudly with my chest puffed out. I felt stronger than I ever had in my life.

“Indeed I am,” I replied, bowing to him. “Let us go forward.”

“I’ve already scouted the next room. There was a secret passage in the hallway that I found while bored out of my mind. It leads straight to something…concerning.”

The knight fell silent after that and led me to a side hallway that opened up into a semi-submerged cove. All the water was flowing down from a waterfall on a cliffside shaped vaguely like an elephant.

Resting in the center of the cove, on a red beach of reefs, was a colossal fish beast with lips wider than a barn. It was lying on its side, its dozens of fins stretching out in all directions. The creature heaved its entire body up and down with each gasp of air. The water rolled over the reef beach, raging enough to soak the entire front. A golden chain had pierced through one of its fins, affixing it to the reef. That looked to be the thing I had been searching for.

“A demon?” I asked.

“Devil, I’d guess,” Brackstone replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m a natural contrarian, I suppose,” he chuckled. “What’s the plan? I think there’s something behind the waterfall.”

I glanced out at the horizon to see what he was talking about. There was indeed a dark frame within the water, indicating that there was some depth behind it. A treasure? Perhaps the thing the journalist had written about? No, that didn’t make sense. I didn’t need to look down in order to find this treasure. Maybe it pertained to something else…but at the same time, I wasn’t here to find treasure. Rather, I was here to get that chain.

“Perhaps I can snipe it from here…” I said, taking out my scroll of Energy Lance. There were no specifications of range on the spell itself. Rather, the spell executed with a line of sight targeting, meaning I could hit quite literally anything I could see. With my enhanced perception, thanks to Odamere, it was easy for me to target the chain.

Surely it couldn’t be this easy? But I had to try, yes? Otherwise, it would be foolish to just dive into combat with the creature.

Arguing with myself, I decided to cast the spell to see if I could break the chain from the edge of the door I was standing from. This would be the ultimate defiance and technicality, to win the encounter from here but I was willing to test the limits of what this demon king had developed this place into. Had he truly thought of everything?

A magnificent beam of energy formed in my hand. A flash of purple washed over me and in an instant, a great horseman made of light was galloping forth, wielding a lance of magic. Was this always the effect of the spell? Or because I was a Lanceman? Either way, it was fascinating to watch as the great spear of energy struck the chain affixed to the side of the beast’s fin.

The great fish bellowed out but did nothing. The energy beam broke through the defenses of the chain, dissipating the magic but doing little else. I suppose I had broken through the shield spells around the chain but not the chain itself. Not quite a loss, so I’d take it.

“You really came all this way and thought that would work?” Brackstone chided as he raised the scimitar over his head. “Only steel and thunder will save the day! Enchant me and let me fight the thing.”

“Very well,” I said, uncorking the Deflection Shield scroll and pulling it out. I wasn’t about to argue if the man was itching for a fight. I could summon some aid for him during the conflict and fire spells from above.

I cast Deflection Shield upon the man, working much faster than usual. I was able to get the spell off in less than a few seconds, making my casting time almost second nature.

The man eagerly clambered down the cliffside, dropping into the alcove where the waters ran up to his hips.

“Ugh, it’s freezing!” he shouted as he waded forward, weapon held high. The monstrous fish immediately took notice of the brave knight and let out a hideous roar before turning on its side. Its entire body shifted and shimmered, morphing from a helpless, beached fish to that of a massive octopus.

Eight huge tentacles came crashing out of the beast’s body as it lunged forth and seized hold of Brackstone. The man screamed in agony as he was lifted high in the air. Time slowed down. I could feel everything within me fighting to move as fast as humanly possible. I needed to save my man before he was crushed to death.

EnergyL was in my hands before I could register what was happening. One finger aimed towards the big, purple tentacles, the other hand holding up the scroll, I read as fast as I could. My diction was perfect and I easily uttered the four command words required to fire another ethereal bolt.

A galloping knight came crashing forth from my hand, spearing through the tentacles, slashing through four of the thick limbs. They were severed, flopping to the ground, thrashing and flailing as Brackstone was thrown free. He hit the water and vanished beneath the surface as the raging waters poured over him.

“Damn it all,” I swore as Odamere croaked a stern warning. The octopus was looking at me now…and it was regrowing its damned limbs!

Chapter 35

The door slammed shut behind me before I could turn to escape. Tentacles came seizing towards me right as I realized I was trapped. Fortunately, I was able to avoid their grasp by leaping straight into the water of the alcove.

The water was indeed freezing. The iciness overtook my chest and I felt my lungs burn as the urge to gasp became intense. Doing so would drown me, of course, so I kept my mouth shut and my head down.

Tentacles came bursting through the water to find me but I was able to swim up to where Brackstone had theorized a waterfall would be. The force of the fall was intense but I was able to push through in order to get to the other side, narrowly avoiding the seizing limbs of the octopus devil.

A pair of rough hands seized me and yanked me from the water. It was Brackstone! He was alive and looking no worse for wear, though he was waterlogged. His sword was missing as well.

“That could have gone better,” I said, uncorking one of my scrolls and examining it. The water had soaked through the parchment and flooded the chambers. The ink was now running off the paper.

Carefully, I took out an empty bottle and began to squeeze out the parchment, juicing all of the water and ink into the bottle. I did this one after another with all of my now useless scrolls. They had lost all of their charges and worse yet, we were now trapped in some unknown tunnel behind the waterfall.

“Can you find the means to start a fire?” I asked as I looked around. The cavern was much larger than I had anticipated. There might even be some additional rooms in here. But without my scrolls I was worse than naked – I was completely defenseless!

“I’ll see if I can rummage around and find something,” the man replied as he walked off into the darkness.

I shivered, the cold air around me doing no favors as the water dripped from my clothes.

“Hey boss! You might wanna come see this!” Brackstone called out, pulling me from my shivering thoughts. I followed his voice, entering deeper into the waterfall cavern.

The rushing sound of the waterfall grew more amplified as I walked through the tunnel, the roaring noise almost overwhelming to my fragile ears.

On the other side, I could see what Brackstone was gawking at. It was a huge painting on the side of the cavern wall, illustrating a glorious woman descending onto water.

The mural was complex and looked like it was made out of hundreds of different variations of the color blue. How they were able to make something look so compelling was beyond me but I found myself drawn to the feet of the goddess. Her toes were barely touching the water.

Thoughts of the hint from the journal came back to my mind. If you want to find Evenoh’s greatest possession, you just have to look down…

I placed my hands on the stone wall where her feet were resting. Sure enough, there was a loose brick that could be pulled out. A gleaming treasure, a circlet with a sapphire in the center, was sitting on a small pillow, waiting to be taken.

I waited for Odamere’s permission to take the item and inspect it. Lifting it to the air, I gazed at the artifact. The band was made from aluminum! This was a more modern development, as aluminum was rather difficult to acquire through natural means. Even a few ounces of the metal would sell for a thousand gold pieces. This was certainly going to be worth ten times its own weight.

But perhaps the treasure had more than mere shop value. Maybe it was magical. I’d have to test on it later. For now, I pocketed the treasure and searched for anything else of interest in the area. There was nothing.

Brackstone was able to collect some random bits of flotsam here and there, starting a small fire in the cavern that lit up the rest of the darkness. The warmth was good and I was able to dry out my parchments, as well as boil out the excess water in my ink bottle. With the remain of my supply and whatever I managed to secure from the damaged scrolls, I re-wrote my scrolls. At least, I wrote four of them. The rest were simply lost. I’m just glad no water got into my other ink bottle.

As I finished up my work, there came a loud shriek from outside the cavern. The devil was screaming in agony. Both Brack and I looked at each other, quizzical as to what caused the beast to make this kind of noise. He raised his sword and I drew my scrolls.

“Lure it close to the water and I shall fire from—” my words were interrupted by another shriek of the beast. A death knell for certain.

“You can come out,” a calm man’s voice called out from beyond the waterfall, magically amplified. “I killed it for you.”

“Someone else?” Brackstone muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. What are the chances of meeting two good prisoners down here?”

“Rather low,” I suppose,” I replied. “But he knows we’re in here. Best do the gentlemanly thing and reveal ourselves.”

“Funny, I know a few people who were locked up for revealing their gentlemanly things,” Brackstone chuckled as I walked over to the edge of the waterfall. There was a wide berth around the water itself, with a reef barrier allowing me to shimmy around without getting wet.

On the other side of the waterfall was the corpse of the devil, slowly shriveling up into a twisted and gnarled thing. A huge spike of energy was sticking from its body, the ethereal pink, blue and green lights of the magical attack glowing bright in the dark cavern.

Standing beside the dead beast was a grinning man…with a familiar face. My own…in a way. He was a Lanceman!

“Brother?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I noticed the four gnomes who were standing on each side of him. They were in their tactical stealth gear, armed with crossbows and alchemical grenades.

“Cousin, I think,” the stranger replied. He was tall and handsome, with the striking features of a much younger man than what his stature suggested. He sported no beard nor stubble, keeping his face clean shaven which sharpened his chin considerably. A Lanceman of the finest breeding, no doubt. “You may call me Hartwell. Augustine Hartwell Lanceman.”

“Napoleon,” I said, half bowing to the sorcerer.

This wasn’t a good situation by the looks of it. Brackstone had joined beside me, keeping his sword in his belt though I could tell he was paying close attention to my disposition, waiting for a sign of trouble.

“I know full well who you are, you slippery little fucker,” Hartwell said. He grinned at me with that of a predator having caught dinner right in its own den. “And it will be my utter pleasure to finally kill you.”

Chapter 36

The plot thickened, as did the hatred my blood had for me. A Lanceman trying to slay his own kin? Sure, my family taunted and teased me but who would go so far as to kill their own family? Such a thing was absurd and mad; even the craziest of sorcerers wouldn’t fathom such an idea.

The more blood that flowed in a lineage, the stronger it was. This was the principle of expansion that the demons granted to all of the original families. The death of a family member would be felt by all. The shedding of the same blood was forbidden on principle of it weakening everyone. It would be akin to stabbing yourself with a knife.

So you could imagine my surprise to find out that my kinsman here was freely admitting to attempting to kill me!

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked. “You’ll be flogged a million times in the public square for such idiocy. I may be a mule but my blood is still a Lanceman’s. You have no right to end me.”

“Hah, you certainly are a Lanceman, for I see mild indignation instead of fear upon your face,” Hartwell replied, grinning widely. The man carried himself with ease and did not seem to be uncomfortable with the situation at hand. He kept his arms crossed but I knew they could be unfurled at a moment’s notice, unleashing hell in the process. Could I outdraw him? I just needed to get one Energy Lance into the head to take him down…no, what was I saying, he was a Lanceman too! We needed to settle this properly.

“I am not helpless,” I warned. “I have great power.”

“As I expected,” Hartwell said. His grin flickered for a moment as he pondered something. “Have you discovered leveling yet?”

“I’m level three,” I replied. “And a few points from four.” That last part was a lie but why not throw in the danger of me leveling up midbattle. Surely that would provide me a power boost and thus be a reason for him to fear.

“Interesting,” the man answered. He glanced at his minions. “You hear that? Level three. That far outweighs any of your abilities.”

With that, he snapped a finger. All eight of the gnome assassins jerked forward, their bodies suddenly becoming possessed with bright red energy. The essence of power and vitality was ripped from them, sending their corpses to the ground as Hartwell soaked up their life force. He glowed bright red for a moment, his face lighting up like a man seeing his beloved bride after a long time away. There was genuine joy in his eyes as he consumed their lives to empower his own.

Brackstone yelped at this and drew his sword. “Sorcerer!”

“Stand down,” I ordered but it was to no avail. The knight charged forward, only to be severed in half by a disc of energy fired straight from Hartwell’s finger.

“Brackstone!” I cried out, watching as the man fell neatly in two. His eyes were opened wide in shock and horror, and he tried to cry out but nothing would come. The poor man fell over, dead and in pieces.

“Smart man,” Hartwell said, though there was no sarcasm in his words. “He knew a threat when he saw one and tried to put it down. A shame he wasn’t faster.”

“You monster!” I shouted. “Those were your men and that was my…my friend.”

I had grown attached to Brackstone in this time. I knew nothing about him but I still had thought about figuring some way to get him out of prison as well. Now I would never know his past, his crimes and his future. The pain of the loss was unbearable, far worse than I would have thought.

And yet I could do nothing with that pain other than simply hold it down for now. The man in front of me was a cool and collected sorcerer with the power to kill anyone with the snap of his fingers. He wanted to toy with me, obviously, otherwise he’d have just shot me down with magic by now. Damn it, why hadn’t I cast Deflection Shield upon us before going out? A single lack of forethought had damned my ally and friend…though who was I kidding? This man was a sorcerer, what could I have done?

“You really are part of the rabble, as the report indicated,” Hartwell said, shaking his head as he tutted a little. “Cavorting with slaves and tavern keeps alike. How far have you fallen?”

“What do you want? What evil have I done against you that warrants such cruelty?” I demanded. My hand hovered over the Energy Lance canister. I was tempted to try my hand but I had to wait for him to become distracted. Never would he think that I was going to take a shot at him. His arrogance was too great. And that would be his downfall.

Make no mistake, I meant everything I said. But I was not so emotionally compromised to not think of a way out of this situation. I wasn’t about to resign to my death so easily.

“I’m glad you asked. In a way, it’s been kind of burning up inside of me,” Augustine Hartwell said as he began to pace back and forth, gingerly stepping over the gnome corpses. “Prophecy, my good man! Plain and simple! There is bad blood within your lineage, cull it before it poisons the city.”

“There are no prophets left,” I replied. “The gods are dead and demons can’t see the future.”

“So you say, but I disagree. Feship disagrees,” Hartwell said. “And I’m becoming more inclined to listen to his priests these days. Call me a believer but…perhaps it’s time for religion to make a comeback. With a more sensible godhead, of course. More reasonable beings in charge.”

“Beings like yourself?” I asked.

“Heavens no!” the man chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare dream so ambitiously. No, I’m a man who would be content with a continent. And that is what they will give me if I help them.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Who else? Feship’s Grand Court. The Dark Inquisitors. Powerful men who are more demon than human, capable of granting favors akin to the magic of priests,” Hartwell explained. He raised a glowing red hand. “Now, if you combine sorcery with this demonic priest magic, you get something I like to call Demurgy. Demonic theurgy. And let me tell you something, you haven’t tasted true power until you’ve gotten your hands on a double dose of magic. It is impossible to compare to anything…but I digress…” Hartwell trailed off for a moment as he continued his pacing. He grinned at my horrified expression. “You seem in shock.”

“I’m still trying to process this,” I said. “So you have the power of the demons within your blood, the ability to perform miraculous and wondrous acts with the snap of a finger, yet it isn’t enough? You want more power?”

“Of course I want more power!” the man snapped. His expression grew frustrated for a moment but he paused and took a little breath. It seemed like I hit a sore spot. Interesting. This could be pressed. If I were careful about it.

“What I mean is, who doesn’t want more power? Power is how one influences the world around them. It is how they achieve anything. A man’s will to power is the greatest thing he can possess. Without power, well…I’d be like you. Weak and helpless.”

“Sounds to me like you’re just another greedy asshole,” I calmly replied. “Someone who can’t figure out when enough is enough, so you ruin it for the rest of us.”

“Insults will get you nowhere,” the Lanceman replied as he aimed a hand towards me. “Any last words?”

“How is it really power if Feship could just revoke it at his pleasure?” I asked. “Seems like you’re his lackey more than anything.”

This caught the man off-guard and he gasped at the shock of the implication of his low breeding. If he was a Lanceman then he had all the weaknesses of my people, including the fear of being called common.

“I’ll have you know that my power comes—” His words were interrupted as I drew my scroll and cast it as fast as possible, the memory of Brackstone’s horrific death fresh on my mind.

Time slowed down as I unfurled the Energy Lance scroll. Each command word seemed to be a million syllables long and I felt as if I were sweating buckets as I spoke.

Hartwell was caught off-guard again, this time in the literal sense. My speed was faster than he could register and I snapped off the spell in the blink of an eye. My feat investments had paid off.

The hallmark purple bolt of energy crashed into the man’s torso, sending him flying into the alcove waters.

Quickly, I drew two more canisters, both of my summon spells. He wasn’t going to be happy when he came out of the water, so I had to be prepared.

First I summoned the Goblin and took cover behind its bulky frame. Second, I conjured the Skeleton Warrior, hoping against hope that two summons could work in tandem.

The Skeletal Warrior manifested beside the squat beast. He was not what I was expecting at all. This bone warrior was nine feet tall, with cancerous deposits lined all up and down its ribcage, forming huge boney spikes that jutted from all ends of its body. Long blades hung from the sides of its four arms, sharper than steel.

“I live once more to serve,” the warrior wheezed, its voice sounding like an unending wind rising up from within the ribcage of the creature.

“Are you sapient? Do you understand me?” I asked.

“I do,” it said. “Trouble is coming.”

The skeleton looked up at the waters where a soaked and extremely irate Hartwell was emerging from.

“You dare try to strike me with a spell?” the man shouted at me. “This almost perplexes me more than it angers me. Almost.”

“Death to you, interloper!” the skeleton screamed as it charged at the waterlogged sorcerer. All four arms rose up high to slash at Hartwell but the Lanceman raised a hand, conjuring a thin shield of white energy. The shield easily absorbed every last blow. Yet, the skeleton was doing its job, the man was occupied.

My goblin archer began taking shots and I continued casting spells. Another goblin conjured…another skeleton as well. Four summons, back to back, and what did you know, the spells were cumulative. Nothing cancelled each other out.

My own private army was effective at fighting Hartwell back towards the deeper end of the alcove. He was floating above the water, slinging spells by the dozens but most of them were of little use. The skeletons were highly resistant to magic and the goblins were skilled at dodging shots. Summoned creatures were a league of their own it seemed and they were a strong bulwark against sorcerers. This was good to know. Very good.

I prepared a fireball and waited for an opening. It never came for Hartwell eventually flew upwards towards the exit, a large hole that he had blasted in the area that had been sealed off initially. I still took my shot.

Hurling the fireball towards him, I hit with perfect accuracy, getting a croak of approval from Odamere as the explosion consumed the man. He plummeted into the water, steam rising from the cold liquid as the flames were doused.

My skeletons were atop Hartwell in an instant, hoisting the injured and bedraggled sorcerer from the water. He was severely hurt and I could see that he was in need of medical attention. Perhaps he would be willing to negotiate for my scroll of healing.

Chapter 37

“So all of this was because of a prophecy?” I asked as my minions placed the sorcerer on the reef beach, keeping him still.

“Yes,” the man wheezed, struggling in vain to escape their grasp. It was pointless as he had been injured severely and was now bleeding. That was part of a death knell for sorcerers, losing blood meant spellpower was literally leaking from him. Even the smallest drop escaping from a sorcerer’s body was a huge loss of power. This was why the most serious duels were to first drop of blood – any more and the sorcerer might not be able to recover.

“You’re losing a lot of precious essence,” I said, unfurling my healing scroll and showing it to the man. “I can heal you. Give me a reason to.”

“You really think I’m afraid of a little blood loss?” Hartwell chuckled as he stared up at me. “Those days are long gone, friend. I just wanted you to get close.”

And with that, an explosion washed over me. I found myself embedded into the wall, the world spinning around violently as the sound of the explosion seemed to catch up with me. Family Rivalry! 500 XP Gained!

“You okay boss?” my skeletons asked as they yanked me free of wherever I had been lodged.

“Where’d he go?” I asked, looking around once I realized the explosion had simply been forceful and not deadly. I was perfectly fine, save for the bump on the back of my head.

“Teleportation,” one of the skeletons said. “A shame, we had him dead to rights.”

“Damn it…” I swore. He wasn’t nearly as helpless as he had first appeared…though he lacked the power to outright kill me. Or even to maim me, really. Still, escape meant more than just a mere delay in execution. It meant the ability to return and finish the job. I better get the hell out of this place before that happened.

I turned my attention to the golden chain that was still affixed to the shriveled corpse of the devil. Resting beside the chain was a pair of legs…Brackstone’s. The sight of it made me turn pale and I became quite ill, retching even though I hadn’t a bit of food in my stomach. All of the feelings that had fled me during the battle returned and grief overtook my heart.

“Oh Brackstone,” I eulogized as I took my cloak off and draped it over the poor man’s upper half. “You were a brave man. To the end. There are no gods to receive you, but if there were, I’m sure they would say good job.”

A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I processed this pain. It felt good to say goodbye to my comrade in this way. Whoever he was in the past didn’t really matter to me. The man’s smile, his warmth and the baffling way he charged into battle without fear…part of me hoped that he was just too good for this world. I would not ask about the man any further, for fear of tarnishing that memory.

Having laid my companion to rest as best I could, I picked up the scimitar on the ground and swung it towards the chain. The supernaturally light blade cut through the cuff as if it were butter, splitting the golden artifact in half. The light, the golden energy itself, faded in the chain, leaving nothing but a lead object devoid of all power.

The entire dungeon shook. Untethered! 750 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as I glanced at the world around me. Everything was shifting and reconstituting itself, the land around me wildly warping and bending.

“You fool!” a voice bellowed. A red spirit appeared above me, a bleak phantom with long flowing skin that moved like the wind. The spirit perpetually swirled in a violent circle. “Who dares interfere with my prison?”

I wisely kept silent, simply holding my tongue in the hopes the spirit would go away. “I can sense you!” the voice demanded. “What are you doing here? Explain yourself!”

“No, I don’t think he has to,” another voice, deeper and stronger replied. This one was familiar, it belonged to the Warden. The warping around me stopped as the ground beneath began to shift into a platform lifting upwards. Light opened up and I could spot the red sky. I never thought I’d be so happy to see such a horrid sight, but I was relieved to see what passed for daylight.

A cadre of guards had surrounded me, aiming their halberds and spears at my head as I rose out of the ground.

“I’m unarmed,” I said, showing my hands.

“Leave him be,” the Warden bellowed, causing the entire prison to rumble once more. “He has earned the freedom of one of our prisoners. Bring forth Hermas Lako!”

A surprised murmur broke out amongst the guards. There were some protests but they were quickly quieted by their superiors. After a few minutes, a man was brought forth in heavy iron bands. He was gigantic, twice the size of any human I had ever seen.

“That’s Hermas?” I gasped as the giant waltzed towards me. It took three men to carry the key that could loosen his binds.

“In the flesh,” the big man said, reaching out a massive hand to shake mine. Despite the great size of his fist, he did not try to crush my hand as we shook. Instead, his grip was rather ginger and meek. “I take it you are here on behalf of the Imperials?”

I nodded. “Tit for tat or something like that. But my job was to free you, how you get home is your problem. My quest is over.”

Hermas grinned a big, toothy grin. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, friend.”

Chapter 38

The Quest Token in my pocket finally relented in its burning, freeing me from the burden of staying in the wretched city of Reinboldt. I had my fill of the town and was more than happy to accept a boat ride to the dock closest to the exit.

My comrades were collected from Norm’s tavern and we began our journey back to home, back to Elantio.

I had a curious assortment of a crew with me. There was Taggart, armed to the teeth and terrified out of his mind. He was calm and collected until it came time to leave the city, after which he wouldn’t stop sweating. Demon attacks from the road had traumatized him as a boy and he had never bothered to confront that fear until recently. The only thing that could motivate him to keep moving was the fact that Shelly would threaten to curse him.

The little woman had found incredible delight in teasing and tormenting the mercenary. She was barely up to his chest and yet commanded more fear than an army of gnomes and hounds could ever bring. Taggart always shivered when she spoke and did his best to go in the opposite direction of her.

Aubergine, fortunately, was able to keep the peace. The Grand Archivist was not in the mood for goofball antics and sharply rebuked Shelly for her behavior. The occultist showed due respect to the archivist and settled down after that, allowing our group to travel in peace.

Conquest of a City! appeared in my vision as the last great spire disappeared behind a hill. 450 XP Gained! More power! Perfect. I was rapidly ascending to level four and it would just be a matter of time before I could produce even more spells. I just hope that I could get home without much trouble…

The road was kind to us for a short while. But eventually we came across a rather disturbing diversion. In the middle of the road, halfway on our journey, was a young woman waving a kerchief, calling for help.

“Trouble ahead,” Taggart announced as he unsheathed his bow. “Want me to shoot her?”

“Easy,” I said, putting my hand up. “It’s just a woman.”

“Not just a woman, a captive!” Shelly said as she pulled her goggles down. The gleaming green energy of the lenses flashed for a moment as she scanned the person ahead. “Oh yes, I sense a powerful demonic root within her. She is being ensorcelled, bound and forced to drag unsuspecting victims to their death.”

“A honeytrap,” Aubergine remarked. “If we follow that girl, she would certainly take us to her demonic master who would then devour us. Leave her be.”

“Agreed,” Shelly said.

“Is she possessed?” I inquired, stopping in my tracks. I didn’t like the sound of this situation one bit.

“Sort of,” my occultist ally replied. “The mind is in a haze but the body is still in control. She’s barely conscious.”

“We should free her then,” I said, putting my hands on my scrolls. I had managed to refresh my stock before heading out, creating another set of summons.

“Aren’t you a noble hero?” Taggart mocked. “Can’t you just bang one of these hotties here?”

“Hey! Thanks!” Shelly said, objecting for a moment before realizing she had been called hot. Her cheeks turned a little red at that. Aubergine was far less receptive of both the moniker and the suggestion.

“Don’t be idiotic, chances are she offered herself in some kind of deal or sacrifice. Leave things you don’t understand alone,” Aubergine huffed. “Besides, we can do nothing against demons.”

“You might not be able to,” I replied. “But I have my own set of powers.” Pazu had given me his blessing and while the Puzzle Box might have been burned up in a fire (or had it?), my ability hadn’t been revoked. I could still rebuke demons, as long as I could remember to use the damn ability before getting hit. “And a gentleman intervenes when he can. That is what makes us gentlemen.” I didn’t mention how close I was to leveling. I was only a thousand or so away from reaching 4 and that was worth the detour.

“I’m pretty sure something else makes us men,” Taggart chuckled as I broke off from the group, heading towards the woman.

Odamere croaked approvingly. “Thank you,” I said, patting my frog on the head. It was good to know at least some people had class.

“You there! Please, come follow me! My father is very ill and needs help,” the woman said, waving her handkerchief back and forth rhythmically. There was a dullness in the young woman’s eyes, a pallor to her face that showed no comprehension of me whatsoever. I waved a hand in front of her but she didn’t register or track the movement.

“You really are a maniac,” Shelly said, popping up beside me. “Helping a complete stranger out. On the road, no less!”

“How can we free her?” I asked, watching as the woman turned around and began to shuffle off towards the woods. I grabbed her by the scruff of her burlap shirt, holding her from advancing. She barely resisted, continuing to walk in place as I held her.

“Why are you asking me? I work with spirits and such, this is a living person!” Shelly said. “I just came up to watch you figure it out.”

“I’m afraid you are working with a wider knowledge base than myself,” I replied. “For I am woefully uneducated in the ways of possession.”

“Partial possessions are tricky. The soul is affixed to the demon itself,” Shelly explained. “There’s no way to sever the tie without dealing with the demon. That’s what everyone’s in a fuss about. Are you really wanting to face something like that out here? Risk all of our lives?”

“I’m doing what is necessary,” I replied. “It’s not like I have a choice in this matter. This woman is in distress and I have the potential to help her.”

“You’ve got a good heart, albeit a naïve one,” Shelly said, punching the bottom of my arm. “Don’t lose your head over this.”

I shrugged at those words and returned to the woman in question. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to negotiate with this demon for her freedom? And if things went wrong, I could rebuke it and leave in a hurry. Or perhaps I could use my magic to fight it. After all, I wasn’t quite helpless anymore.

Chapter 39

The woman led me to a large, ominous house in the forest. The pines and evergreens mixed together to form a dense cluster around the house, sealing it off from the rest of the woods. As soon as Shelly saw the decrepit manor, she quickly excused herself, returning back to the main road. My companions would all go on ahead of me, with Taggart leading the way. Hopefully they’d be able to find their way back to the Archive quickly. I, on the other hand, was willing to test my strength against this stranger demon.

Why would a man trained by such a cruel family risk his life to save a stranger? Believe it or not, but it is what any Lanceman would do. Strangers on the road were always to be treated with dignity and respect. It was akin to the law of hospitality in other kingdoms. My instincts to help this woman were from a lifetime of being taught to always help strangers on the road. You never know who they might turn out to be later. I suppose such an ideal was potentially self-serving.

I, on the other hand, was feeling more empathy than usual after the loss of my friend Brackstone. Seeing someone in trouble had conjured an indignation that had to be used for something constructive. Fighting or negotiating with a demon would be one such way to resolve those feelings.

This is all to justify entering that damnable spooky house. The grey manor had two stories and a dozen windows on both sides of the house, indicating at least twenty rooms or so. The stairs leading up into the house were made from stone that had long decayed, leaving huge cracks and chips in the pathway.

The woman ahead said nothing as she stumbled forward up the steps, barely cognizant enough to lift each foot as she walked. Odamere bravely hopped into my vest pocket and hid himself from the world, leaving me to enter the decrepit home alone.

“Color me surprised that someone actually came,” a voice said as the doors before me swung open. A great wind tried to suck me in but I was able to keep my footing, holding my hood in place as everything blew around me violently. “I thought this was an obvious trap.”

“If it was so obvious, why set it?” I asked back, entering the hallway of the house, searching for a sign of the demon. I had my Fireball scroll in hand and I had already cast Deflection Shield upon myself. I was ready for a fight.

“I’m lazy,” the demon replied, laughing. The young woman ceased leading me and scuttled to the corner of the room, like a dog having been scolded by its master.

The door behind me slammed shut, bringing in total darkness. I lit my gaslamp and raised it high, revealing a jagged face right before me. It was a wild and crazed shape, like a dozen ‘X’s all pressing out of a rhinoceros skull. Eyes lined up the ridges of the creature’s head plate and its mouth opened wide, revealing even more eyes.

“Do you like how I look?” the creature asked, chortling at me as saliva ran down its mouth. “Does it fill you with terror?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I replied, holding the lamp up high. “For I have faced many horrors recently. A scary face isn’t much. I do apologize.”

The demon snarled and narrowed its eyes at me. For a moment I thought he was going to strike, but there was great hesitation upon him. “You are powerful,” he realized. “But you are absent of demon blood. I can sense no spark within you, yet you stand without fear. Why?”

“Try me and find out,” I replied.

The demon laughed at this. “You are ambitious. Or an idiot. No, not an idiot for you carry yourself like a nobleman. Interesting. Why have you come here, then? Why walk willingly into the serpent’s mouth and then refuse to be eaten?”

“It is possible that I’m here to make a deal,” I said.

“I do not wish to make a deal,” he grumbled. “Go away and leave me be.”

Interesting. The demon had lowered himself in both stature and posture, becoming far more subservient than I had anticipated. All because I didn’t cringe in terror before him. I stood strong and fearless, partially because I was so damn numb from all the violence I had already seen. And partially because I could rebuke him with a single word. I suppose that gave me an edge in the negotiation.

“Come now, surely you want something,” I said. “Something that would free this woman from your influence.”

“Is that what you are after? My host? How else is a monster to get a meal? Go out and hunt myself? No, this woman is my meal ticket.”

“How many have you lured in with her?”

“A handful,” the demon replied. “Far more than I would have gotten if I had done nothing instead.”

“Then consider your venture profitable and free her,” I said. “In doing so, I will do a Quest for you.”

The monster tilted his head. “Is that right? A quest for a life? How much you must value her, to do my bidding on the earth!”

Demons were not free to move about like humans were. These wretched creatures followed strict borders that were sometimes so small that they measured to be a foot and a half wide. Principalities and Powers were the ones in charge of divvying out the property that demons could traverse and without the rights to move freely, they were stuck.

This made humans quite useful for demons who were ambitious. Those who had plans and plots couldn’t do half of it by themselves for they were often stuck in one tiny region. Thus the offer of a quest meant that this demon could do anything he wanted in the world. Whatever he dreamed of, I could fulfill it.

“I do value her quite highly,” I said. “And so I’d be willing to do almost anything for you. Name your quest.”

The demon tilted his head at this and slowly blinked a few times. I could see the excitement growing on his face as he realized the potential. Apparently he had not regarded the value of this woman’s life as worth anything close to a quest. A terrible thing to behold, for certain. She was little more than an ant to him.

“Very well,” the creature said. “I wish for this house to be renovated. You may think it a silly thing but I do not wish to devour my guests initially. It is a lonesome thing, being trapped in this small place. If this home were flourishing, I could have guests for a long time. I could entertain myself endlessly before feasting upon them.”

A house renovation? That was the quest he wanted fulfilled? Far be it from me to question providence, I suppose. “Very well. I will see to it that your home is renovated,” I said. “In exchange, you will release this woman from your possession.”

“A drop of blood to seal the deal,” the monster said. “For I do not trust you otherwise.”

“Funny,” I replied. “For I was about to ask the same.”

Chapter 40

Interior decoration was not my strong suit, so I suppose that I would need to hire someone to handle such a delicate job. Shelly found this situation to be a real hoot and wouldn’t stop joking about it the entire trip back to Elantio. No one else thought it was funny, however, for they worried that the demon was tricking me somehow.

“The demon will eat those contractors,” Aubergine had warned.

“You’re gonna lose so much money on this thing,” Taggart had said. “I can’t imagine anyone taking a job out of city for cheap.”

In spite of this naysaying, I was fine with the arrangement. The men hired for the job would be told up front what the situation was. Not everyone was afraid of working with demons and indeed, there were many companies that had sorcerers who were able to interact with such creatures without fear.

Speaking of fear, I had gained some experience for this. Fearless Negotiator! 250 XP Gained! This put me at 2,100 points, a mere seven hundred away from leveling up! What would I pick next, I wonder? Bookbinder for sure, so I could start getting better spells. Or at least spells that followed a set theme.

The rest of our trip was surprisingly uneventful. Apart from making the deal with the demon for the rescue of Escala the Bound, there were no other problems for us to encounter. Taggart took this as a sign that we were due any moment for an air raid from bat demons and his fear pushed us all to move double time. We made it to the city in two days’ time.

I had never been happier to see Elantio in all of my life. Sure, I had only grown up in that great city for that life but still…the sight of it made me well up with tears. It felt amazing to finally be back home.

The Archive was in one piece. The damage to the building from my first few spells had been repaired and the grand hall was open once more for business. Lucas and his men were still here, lounging about in the library, camping out in various sections as they ate bread while reading books in peace.

“This is your Archive?” Aubergine said as she walked up beside me. “It’s tiny compared to the Grandium.”

“What did you expect?” I replied. “We’re a decent sized repository of knowledge but nothing compared to your incredible palace of learning.”

“I suppose it’ll have to make do…” she grumbled. “Who are these barbarians?”

“Mercenaries that I owe some money to,” I said. “Taggart will whip them into shape, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m taking quite a leap of faith coming here,” Aubergine said as she followed me through the Archive into one of the side chambers. My laboratory was in here, a large blastproof room where I had first experimented with the magical inks. It would be here that I could work on my new projects and prepare new scrolls. “When do I get to learn magic?”

“I’ll show you the books that taught me,” I said. “Then you can figure it out from there. We’ll compare theories when you have your own working system.”

“Smart, that way we can see how our systems developed differently based on our perceptions and personalities,” Aubergine concluded. She tapped her forehead. “You think ahead, don’t you?”

“I try,” I said. “Circumstances are turning me more into a chess player than I’d like.”

“I never had the patience for that game. Give me a solid round of Getherno any day of the week,” Aubergine said.

That perked me up. Getherno was a card game that had recently been released by a brilliant printer by the name of Gessepin Therno. Getherno was strategic, required no luck and only skill. It was quickly becoming the premier game in Elantio and therefore, the rest of Usiren was falling quickly into suit.

“Did you pack your cards by any chance?” I asked.

“Afraid not, my collection is just a single periodical that lists all the available cards for this season,” she replied.

“We have a shop here,” I replied. “The biggest one in the district. Getherno Junction, they call it.”

“Wait, an entire store for the game?” she asked.

“It was invented here,” I said. “Of course we have an entire store dedicated to it.”

“Perhaps my tenure here won’t be as bad as I thought…” Aubergine muttered to herself. There was a clatter in the distance as Shelly started lambasting one of the mercenaries about something. We both grew distracted with other things and parted ways. We were both tired from the journey and I was ready for a long, long rest.

I slept for a while after getting home. At first I thought I was feeling fresher than ever, but then I lay in bed and woke up a day later, my stomach burning with hunger. Shelly had made herself at home in the building already and had started cooking up breakfast for everyone in the house. Lucas and Taggart were getting along famously and even Aubergine was happy, having secured herself a new deck of cards to play with anyone who was willing to challenge her.

It was strange to see the Archive, a normally quiet library, turned into a game hall, filled with food, laughter and people. Strange but not unwelcome in the least. In fact, I felt something beam within me as I watched everyone settle in for the morning, eating their eggs and telling raucous stories, one-upping each other with taller and taller tales. This was what it meant to have a family, in a way. At least, what I remembered of having one. I hope they would stay for as long as possible.

I had this attitude for the first few days. After that, I discovered that the constant barrage of noise from everyone caused a great disruption in my routine. Trying to return to normality was nearly impossible due to the clamor everyone caused. Even Aubergine was loud with her victories against the rest of the mercenaries.

“They aren’t even skilled players!” I barked out of my study, looking down from the top of the banister. “You can’t be this loud over beating newbies.”

“Is that a challenge?” the woman called up to me.

“That is it!” I huffed. “Lucas, get up here!”

The mercenary sheepishly made his way up the stairs. “Ah great,” he grumbled as he followed me into my study. “So uh, you kicking us out? We’re barely eating anything, I swear!”

“No, I’m not kicking anyone out,” I said, returning to my desk. I had been trying to figure out how to decipher those strange books I had found in the tree demon’s possession. Trying being the keyword, as the noise coming from outside the halls had me rereading sentences several times over – despite the fact that I couldn’t understand them to begin with!

“But I am relocating you. There’s an old bar that used to belong to the prior occupant. He sealed it up to hide it from the inspectors when they came by but I know where it is. The damn thing’s a mess, the guy was a real boozehound. You clean that place up and it’ll be your headquarters, rally point, rest hall, whatever you like. The most important thing is that it’s underground and therefore away from my ears.”

Lucas nodded and smiled faintly. “You’re really letting us crash here as long as we like, aren’t you? Limmy says that Taggart fellow is the real deal, he could cut us down in a heartbeat.”

“That he could,” I said. “But you men have behaved so far and I technically owe you a debt. Besides, I don’t mind the company.”

Loud crashes sounded outside in the main hall, followed by a dozen louder sorries. I gritted my teeth. “Take your men and get that bar up and running. By tonight.”

“On it,” Lucas said as he hopped to his feet and saluted me. He tilted his head a little towards my book. “Huh, I didn’t take you for a mathematician.”

Before he could turn to leave, I stopped him. “Hold! You can read this?” I asked, pointing towards my collection of indecipherable script. The man shrugged.

“Mathskine isn’t something you read as much as you try to forget,” he replied, shuddering.

“What is it?”

“A trade language for engineers from the Unterhills,” Lucas said. “I was posted for a few years doing guard duty for the last batch of dwarven workers. They tried to teach us how to read it as a joke, was a miserable affair.”

A trade language? Interesting. I looked back at the book with curiosity. That was one lead. I’d need to get access to a primer on the language so I could decode what was within. Would there be spells, I wonder?

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I said. “Now, go fix up that bar before I lose my mind.”

Chapter 41

The crashing was enough to wake me up. A monster? A demon? No…knocking. Someone was knocking on my door in the middle of the night.

Sweat poured down my forehead as I sat up and grabbed my robe. Had I been dreaming of something awful? My heart was pounding and adrenaline was firing through my entire body. I felt like I could snap off a spell in an instant. Was this the reaction of a warrior to midnight frights? Or was this the mark of a man who had been a bit too damaged from his journey and was responding like a lunatic?

I was unsure, but I still held a fireball scroll in hand as I cracked the door to see a pale Lucas waiting for me. He was drawn back and looked scared out of his mind. It was the fear of a child who had messed up and was now awaiting punishment.

“What is it?” I grunted, tossing my scroll on to my nightstand. Glad to know we weren’t under siege.

“Okay, so we were just doing exactly what you told us to do…we were not having a sledgehammer fight that resulted in knocking a hole in the wall,” he blurted.

“Just patch it, I don’t give a…” my words trailed off as I realized the man was still scared out of his mind. He wasn’t afraid of me.

“There’s something down there, sir. The bar was just a cover. There hasn’t been a drop of booze in there since ever, I don’t think,” Lucas said. “The men think it’s a dungeon. We’re taking our leave, I’m afraid.”

“That quickly?” I asked, closing my robe and tying it shut. “I thought mercenaries were tough nuts to crack.”

“Dungeons are not mercenary work. We aren’t a bunch of devil robbers,” Lucas replied. “Opening the place up is bad luck. I don’t wanna be within a mile of this place when whatever demons lurking in there come out.”

“I assure you nothing will be able to get past me,” I said, returning to my room to grab my scrolls. I guess I would be needing these after all. And pants, that too, I suppose. Odd to have to dress in my own home, but I guess that was the tradeoff to having permanent guests.

After dressing, I headed down to the third basement, to the corridor where immediately a foul smell overtook me. Old bound leather was present in the air, but something noxious was also around. Something fetid and disgusting.

The mercenaries were long gone from the area. Only the brave Shelly was around to investigate.

“Ohohoho!” the short woman cackled as she came alongside me, goggles gleaming in the dark. “This is jackpot! Paydirt! Hitstone! We are gonna be rich!”

“Why would a woman who deals with death care about wealth?” I asked.

“You seen a good burial tomb’s cost these days? Baby, you gotta go down to the depths in style or they gonna make fun of you,” Shelly said as she bumped her hips into my own, surprisingly hard for a woman of her size. “Besides, I meant rich as in, a wealth of knowledge. Who knows what stories are down there? What secrets of knowledge?”

“You sound like you’re reading my mind,” I replied with a grin as I raised my gas lamp high to light the path ahead.

The seal to the room had been breached open, revealing a wide split that led to a dark barroom. Someone had taken great pains to make this place look like a functional tavern, complete with tables, a bar and copious amounts of barrels in the back. But it was all a ruse, apparently. The man who worked here before me had been exploring something a little more…subterranean.

On the far end of the bar was a large cavernous maw that glistened in the light. Cool air blew out from it, reminding me of the chilliness of the Elephant Reef Dungeon. Was this really another such place? Beneath my own Archive? What a curious thing.

Shelly scuttled forward and disappeared into the darkness of the cavern, fearless as ever. “Woah!” her voice echoed all around. “You gotta see how big this place is!”

“I can imagine,” I replied, raising my lantern high as I followed after her. My feet squished a little as I walked along the dirt ground. Water? Hopefully it wouldn’t flood the rest of the building.

“There aren’t any spirits here,” the woman called out as she continued exploring. “I don’t sense anyone. It’s as dead as the dead!”

“I suppose that means we should be wary of the living then,” I said. Shelly appeared behind me in an instant, clinging close to my hip.

“Good point, there might be monsters down here,” she whimpered.

“Not fond of monstrosities, but the dead are fine?” I asked as I continued forward, examining the cavernous network. This tunnel had been carved without tools. There was no sign of cuts or edges, just smooth, effortless opening of a tunnel. No support beams…this couldn’t possibly be a natural formation.

“We all end up as dead so they aren’t monsters, just cousins. Or corpse-siblings, as I like to call them,” Shelly explained.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I replied, stopping at an intersection. Three paths branched off from here, each sloping down deeper into the darkness. My lantern flickered as the cool air rushed out from the center hole.

“Well? Which way?” Shelly asked. “I’ve got no clue without a ghost to guide me.”

Dread welled up in my stomach. Those mercenaries were not idiots. You didn’t survive out in the wilds without a bit of sense to your head. If they were getting out of here at the first sign of the dungeon, that was probably an indicator that we should seal this thing. And yet…

“Forward is where the air is coming from, I suppose that will lead us to something of interest,” I said, taking a deep breath before sallying forth. What did I have to fear? I was the master of this domain, after all. Besides, another dungeon meant I’d be closer to another level. And this one would give Odamere an evolution!

The temptation for more points was more than enough to fill my steps with energy as I bounded down the dark slope. Wind blew harder, causing the lantern to swing in my hand, creaking. Shelly was practically hanging from me, her arms tightly around my hips as she held to me for dear life. I had to give it to her, she was braver than a whole host of mercenaries.

My footsteps echoed across the ground for a few minutes as we descended in pure silence. Eventually we reached an opening, a wide circular room with what looked to be dozens of mechanical creatures, hounds to be exact, laying on the ground. They had clockwork gears on their arms and legs, bronze plating on their heads and tails. Large winding keys were sticking from their backs, harkening back to the old days of steam powered and mechanical technology. The old days when magic was civil and kind.

The gnomes had designed steamwork creatures, using gears and cogs, mathematics and a dash of magic to create their infusions. They worshipped a great metal series of gears in the cosmos, the Helegon Wheel.

The Helegon had once been a great controller of the cosmos, binding all fate to the power of the stars and time. The wheels would spin perpetually, dragging all of time forward, just as the gods had created it to. The gnomes were spawned from the Helegon’s desire to take care of itself and learn more about the world.

When the gods were destroyed, the Helegon was hurled from its position by one of the sorcerer kings, whose desire was to upend all of time itself. As you know, Mainlander, we are still reeling from the effects of such a thing. The stars fled, the planets grew wild and untamed and our moon became vengeful. Worse yet, the gnomes turned their peaceful arts to destructive and mercenary ways. Steamworks became weapons of assassination and murder.

These devices in front of us were not safe creatures. Gnomish devices went mad after the Helegon was hurled into the cosmos. Our only hope was that these things were unpowered.

Chapter 42

I looked sternly at my comrade who stared up at me with bug-eyed goggles. I didn’t need to see what was behind those lenses to know she was terrified out of her wits. She didn’t make a peep. Neither did I.

Carefully, we began to back up, towards the entrance. Movement became much harder when I was expecting the monsters to come rushing any second. My heart was in my throat as we backed up, step by step. The wind continued to blow. We managed to make it back to the intersection without a single sound. I don’t think Shelly even breathed. I know I didn’t.

“Mechanodogs!” she huffed once we were free and clear from the area. “Monstrous marvels of gnomish monstrosity!”

“Speaking of which, are you—”

“No!” Shelly grumped, pointing a short finger at me. “I’m just short. Short people are everywhere in the world, it’s you tall people who are freaks!”

“I didn’t say you were a freak,” I replied. “And keep your voice down. Those things might chase us still.”

“Nah, if they didn’t hear us earlier they wouldn’t have heard us now,” she countered. Shelly flipped her goggles up, revealing a pair of weary, tired eyes. “But it seems my instincts were on the money. This is the place, big guy. The Astral Charts, the visions, all of it. Leads right here.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking down the tunnels once more. I shuddered at the thought of facing those creatures. Even with my spell repertoire, gnomish inventions were known to be magekillers. They were used as hunting dogs by sorcerers in the later purges when magician and diviner alike were struck down in the streets.

“Look, I lost my body of work because I didn’t take the warnings too seriously the first time,” Shelly explained as she took my right hand and twisted it outward a little. “It’s right here. Your bloodline. It’s inert. It’s blessed.”

“Blessed?” I said, scoffing. “How could you call the lack of magic blessed? I’m reduced to learning to use magic through force of will, luck and the blood of a dying god.”

“Blessed because you, my sweet pea,” she continued as she touched my wrist gently, “are able to break the cycle. Break the chain of power.”

“You’re going to need to spell this out for me. I do not have the energy for your riddles and games,” I bemoaned, closing my eyes. Why couldn’t I just be allowed to have my books and magical theories? The most I was ever going to do with my unleashed magical power was fire a few bolts at a bully or two. That and heat my tea up when it got too cold. Mundane and simple applications of magic were all I had wanted…that and the respect of my family.

“Here’s how it goes. The gods took a big loss but they didn’t lose-lose. They still have ways of coming back. Clever people are learning how to get magic without the help of the sorcerers. Well, it is believed that when demonbloods like yourself don’t manifest, it means you’ve been blessed with the power to change the tide. To bring order back to the world. To bring the sky back.”

That was a tall drink she was offering and I wanted none of it. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re actually saying that I’m chosen by the gods?”

“Maybe. In some indirect way. Maybe they hid a contingency in someone’s bloodline. Who knows? The thing is, the spirits had told me all about your arrival for a reason. The Astral Realm wants to help you. The spirits of the dead, all of them, are ready to help you. That’s why I didn’t lose my mind about my house. That’s why I’m following you here. Napoleon, you’re a mule for a reason. And I’m here to see it through.”

“The dead no doubt wish for the gods to be restored so they can go on to their heavens,” I said. “But what about the hells, hmm? Won’t they return as well? I’m no arbitrator of morality but I have no love for the gods. A Lanceman does not bow to any deity.”

“This isn’t about bowing, dumbass. It’s about pawning all the work off of creatures that were designed to do it. Are you gonna hold up the sun all day? No one wants to do that, except the gods. They like that crap and so that’s why they are around. You all worship them because you’re bored idiots who want attention. And now look where it’s gotten us all?” Shelly grumbled at me. “I remember a time when life was much nicer than this!”

“How?” I asked. “It’s been over six hundred years since the last god died.”

“I mean metaphorically,” she quickly said, clearing her throat. “Moving on, you’re fated bud. It’s time for you to know the truth. Your cousin is trying to kill you.”

“Oh hey, you got that one right,” I said.

“I had been trying to tell you that right before we were interrupted by those assassins,” Shelly said. “He has been given a vision of the future by a powerful priest. One that shows you saving the day. This is what the spirits of many tell me, even now.”

I looked around the upper part of the archives. We had wandered out during our conversation, neither of us interested in testing her theory about the hounds. “Are there spirits in here?”

“The Archive? Hell yeah, people die a ton in these kinds of places. I mean that guy over there died because he stacked a book too high and it fell and killed him,” Shelly said, pointing to no one in particular.

“Live by the sword, eh?” I said, saluting the dead librarian, or at least where I thought he was. Returning my attention to the short woman, I sighed. “I don’t know if I’m the right guy for all of this.”

“Well, what choice do you have? Because everyone else is convinced you are,” Shelly explained. “Simply put, it doesn’t matter if you are the man of destiny, if someone had a vision that you were, you are. That’s how you’ll be treated.”

“We better fireproof this damn building,” I said, looking around. “It’ll only be a matter of time before the Archive’s under siege.”

“Now there’s thinking with the old noggin!” Shelly said, clapping her hands together. “Now, I’m a rusty lady who has no interest in dying in a dungeon. So be a dear and plumb those depths for me, will you? The fate of time and space relies on it.”

“Now how can I say no to such a polite request?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. I was all for finding adventure outside of the Archive but beneath? That could lead to some kind of awful earthquake that would upend my life’s work. Kill me all you like, but just don’t bother my books!

Chapter 43

Taggart, the man who actively hid from Shelly whenever she entered a room, was unperturbed by the existence of a dungeon. “A tomb? Let’s fucking devil rob, bitches!” he had shouted upon hearing the news. This was apparently one of the Cutwise Crew’s ancillary functions; delving deep into dark lands in the search for treasure.

I was glad to have the man’s assistance secured, as I intended to go down and investigate the other two corridors in order to acquire some more experience points. Perhaps I could find a journal or two, or maybe disarm some traps.

You may think this a foolhardy thing to do but I was a mere seven hundred points away from another major increase in power. Each level gave me more options and abilities, more powers to defend myself from the inevitable swarm of struggle coming my way. It was for the best that I did this and having Taggart by my side increased my chances of survival drastically.

And so we began readying for our delve, as Tag called it. The only trouble was that we were dead broke. Well, that was a problem for Taggart.

“We need primo shovels, man,” he had complained to me. “Good rope. Lots of it, and hemp! Not the rope, the smoking kind. Just in case we get bored down there.”

“I have no funds for this kind of thing! I am near bankruptcy if not for the monthly stipend I receive from the Librarian’s Union,” I had protested. This wasn’t quite true, I had found that treasure while delving the Elephant Reef.

The Sapphire Circlet was a beauty. I had been hoping to keep it, to place it somewhere on a shelf and regale my tattooed grandchildren of my first real adventure. But now as I stared at the object, I couldn’t help but realize how much it would be worth to the right jeweler. All of my discovered treasure would probably be worth a few coins.

How common it was, to hawk things in order to buy possessions! But it wasn’t like I had word or credit in Elantio. People tended to keep their distance once they recognized me as a mule. Those who would have business with me were free to take advantage as they pleased. Most of the time they’d just upcharge me or impose steep restrictions on what time I was allowed to enter their establishment.

I suppose I had been numb to all of that before, as nothing had been worse than losing my family’s connection, but now I had an agenda. I had a reason to be irate with shopkeepers who would treat me poorly. But at the same time, I couldn’t raise too much of a fuss or else my fellow Lanceman tribe would take notice of my power and probably try to kill me. If a dear cousin was willing to commit murder, what would that say of my brothers and sisters?

How awful it was to make these judgments but I had no choice. My family had turned against me and now I was on my own. I had to expect Elantio to be as hostile as Reinboldt, if not even more. It was tempting to use Shroud of Familiarity but I was going to be making deals and it seemed unsporting to influence a man’s mind against him when discussing his livelihood. That much had always been stressed to the gentry. Power and fear should influence indirectly, control of the mind? Never. That was a lesser bloodline’s efforts. A Lanceman controlled without domination.

And so I simply dressed up in unassuming clothes, took my jewelry in a sealed pouch close to my chest and headed out to the streets of Elantio, to the Bowman’s District.

The night was late and so there were few people out. Occasionally a guardian devil would wander by, carrying firewood for one of its masters. Such creatures stared at me with knowing hunger though they said not a word. Smiles cracked on their lips as if they knew something I did not. I did not like that one bit.

Guardian devils were the most standard form of devil within Elantio. As powerful sorcerers, the Lancemans often attracted a cadre of devils or demons who were willing to serve as slaves in exchange for protection from the many horrors outside of the world. Many demons were not strong enough to fend off greater powers and so, they took shelter in Elantio as servants and magical aids.

The jewelry shop was open, fortunately, and I was able to secure a trade. The sapphire in the circlet alone was worth three hundred gold and I got an additional fifty for the band itself. A fine price that would afford us all of the adventuring gear that Taggart required.

As for the rings, the man took a look at them but was uninterested. “Cursed,” he had warned, shaking his head. “Not unstable but certainly strong enough to ruin anyone who wears them. I would throw them in the river if I were you.”

Such advice wasn’t something I was interested in hearing from the jeweler. I took my coin in purse and headed back towards the Archive, taking the main road into Cenno Square. This was a big mistake. The square was packed full of people all paying attention to one man. Dro Lanceman, my big brother and the most commanding of the Lanceman dynasty, was standing in the center of the square, boasting about some big tale.

The man spotted me despite my attempts to hide in the crowd. “Is that little Napoleon I see?” Dro shouted, putting his hand to his head as he swept it back and forth as if searching for me. “My tiny, impotent brother? Come on, boy, let’s see you!”

I stiffened at this call. Dro had been the biggest bully to me growing up, not because he had any particular hatred in his heart but because I had been an easy target. I wasn’t so easy now, not with the scrolls of fireball resting on my hip…but I couldn’t reveal my power to the man. If I showed I had magic, Dro would undoubtedly challenge me to some kind of duel. And if not him, perhaps one of the other Lanceman. Dead gods I didn’t want to kill any of my family in a duel.

The crowd parted and I was practically dragged in front of the man. He was standing on a platform intended for heralds and criers to use. Dro was a tall man with a broad chest and huge biceps that were overdeveloped compared to the rest of him. He dressed in the typical robes of a Lanceman, a red outfit with a black sash around the middle. The sash indicated his ascendant role as sorcerer.

The big fellow towered over me, staring down with his hands on his hips, grin wide. “You look tired, brother. Books keeping you up?”

“You know me, I was always a fitful sleeper,” I replied, looking at the floor. Eye contact would be seen as a way to challenge his dominance.

“Pathetic, he won’t even look his own flesh and blood in the eye,” Dro snickered. He raised a hand, causing it to ignite on fire. “Care to dance for me?”

“If you do that, you’ll regret it,” I warned, putting my hand on my shield scroll. I wouldn’t let him bully me…except, if I showed my potential he’d kill me on the spot. Frankly, I was surprised he was being genial with me at all.

“You hear that? He thinks he can defend himself!” Dro said, dismissing the fire. “I’d shoot at you but I don’t want to ash my fine clothes.”

Heat rushed up through me at his nonchalance. The man thought he was in perfect control. He had no idea the kind of power I was packing now…but if I let my anger get the best of me, I’d be dead. And then what would be the fate of the rest of the weirdoes in the Archive? Shelly’d be disappointed and Aubergine would just go back to her evil ways. There was no glory in dying here.

I hung my head even lower. “I apologize for talking out of turn.”

“There’s a good boy! Have a copper, enjoy a meal today!” the man said as he tossed a coin to me.

All eyes fell on me as the area grew silent. It was a shameful thing to pick up money in the streets, that was something beggars and those without status did. My brother’s message was clear, I was nothing more than a beggar to him. And I best act like it, otherwise he’d come down on me like a bag of bricks.

With a sigh, I stooped down and picked up the coin, doing my best not to grumble in an audible manner. As I bent down, another coin struck my head. Then another. I took each coin like a pauper, listening as the crowd laughed. My face turned bright red as something deep within demanded that I get satisfaction. That I strike my brother down for his insolence.

But alas, I was no upstart. The whole of my family had turned on me, this was just to be expected. I calmly collected the coins and placed them into my purse before requesting for him to dismiss me.

More raucous laughter. Eventually Dro grew bored with me and sent me on my way, a few coins richer but without any face left. There was a reason I didn’t go out that often.

Chapter 44

Power Restrained is Still Power! appeared in my vision as I wandered back home. 250 XP gained! followed up. I had to say, that was the tonic that made the bitters go down smooth. The words were true as well. I had plenty of power to use, there was no reason for me to feel so weak and helpless. Dro was just an ass, as all of my family was. But what did they know? They just inherited their abilities, meanwhile I was working hard for them. And getting much better results.

It was tempting for me to sit and sulk, to nurse my open wounds but I had more important things to worry about. Namely, exploring the dungeon we had discovered beneath the Archive!

There were many reasons to check the area out, namely the fear that something awful was going to come crawling out. Those clockwork dogs would stay put, they were guardians and so we didn’t need to worry about them, but what about the other two tunnels? Surely there had to be some creatures or demons lurking about. It would be best to map out the entire area.

And so Taggart and I prepared. We purchased climbing rope, knives, pikes and tents, fishhooks and ten foot poles, all for the purpose of entering the Archival Undergrowth, as Shelly called it. I took a week to use my natural charges to ready two of each scroll in my spell arsenal, then an extra day to load up on the more useful ones.

I was able to purchase an additional set of scroll belts, both of them sealed and waterproofed, one on each hip. My offense was on the right and the defense on the left. Overall, I could access ten scrolls in a matter of seconds, giving me a wide variety of responses in case of trouble. I even practiced a few times, drawing like lightning each time.

After two weeks of preparation, readying of a will and a long discussion with Taggart about the protocol for dealing with demons, it was time to descend once more. I would find the secrets of the dungeon and why it was here, as well as determine whether it should be sealed up again.

We arrived at the split, the three-way tunnel that led into darkness. Taggart was wearing black banded mail, carrying a longsword in one hand and a rod with a hook in the other. The man knew his way around traps, proudly bragging about all the times he had broken into wizards’ homes while being employed by the city to flush out unlicensed magical practitioners. He was more than happy to go first and I was thrilled enough to let him.

Following from a slight distance, I trailed after the mercenary as he vanished into the shadows for a moment. A steep decline met us, almost a vertical drop if not for a single step to catch our footing on the way down.

“Watch your step,” he warned as we continued downwards, the wall around us growing rapidly smaller and smaller until we were squeezing through a narrow corridor. This place was certainly more friendly for people Shelly’s size.

“Oof!” Taggart grunted as he popped out on the other side, into a much wider hallway. The room was made entirely of bronze paneling. Concentric circles and hexagons were carved into the ceilings and the trim molding, carefully forming magical patterns.

“Watch your step!” I said, pointing towards the thin wire inches away from Tag’s foot.

“I see it, I see it,” the man said as he took out his hook pole and angled it towards one part of the wall. After a second of fiddling, the wire went slack and there was a ta-tack sound in the distance. Nothing fired, however, and so I let out a deep sigh of relief.

Trap Disarmed! 100 XP gained! appeared in my vision as I climbed out of the hole. Incremental but still, I was closer to four. I could almost taste it.

Glancing around, I examined the bronze room. Our light caused a rather unpleasant glare that made the rest of the walls difficult to look at, forcing me to cover my lantern with a cloth. Once the light was less overpowering, we noticed a large sarcophagus in the corner of the room, lined up in between two tall columns.

“Grave site?” Taggart asked as he investigated the rest of the room, looking for signs of traps. He found a panel in the wall and opened it up, fiddling with a few metal tools in the process.

“Shelly said she didn’t sense any ghosts or geist here,” I replied, walking up to the large bronze box. It was in the shape of a human, with a metal phoenix emblazoned on the front. The wings emerged upwards into handles on the coffin lid.

“Maybe it’s a puzzle…and the solution is graverobbing,” Tag said as he continued working on the panel.

“That seems to be an odd solution,” I said, grabbing hold of the handles. It wasn’t very sporting to open up a coffin but at the same time, all bets were off in a dungeon. This wasn’t plundering, it was archeology!

I yanked the lid off as hard as I could, fully expecting to see a corpse staring up at me in judgment. But there was no body. Instead, there was a passage way, a secret hole that was wide enough for anyone to squeeze through sideways. Below, I could see sparkling gems.

“Curious,” I mumbled. Quickly, I looked away just in case there was some kind of mesmerizing effect. Odamere hopped from my shoulder down into the hole to explore further.

“See anything?” I asked as the frog croaked up at me. I stuck my head through the hole to see a pair of emeralds studded in the middle of a smooth, crystal skull.

“Ribbit,” Odamere said as he hopped atop the skull.

“What a strange artifact,” I said, and I climbed all the way into the sarcophagus’ secret hutch. It was large enough for a man to stand up in and explore. A torch sconce was nearby, with a burnt out torch resting in it.

I took out my lantern and hung it from the sconce absentmindedly, turning to examine the skull further. There was a loud grinding sound as the sconce began to fall downwards, the weight of the lantern pulling down the secret lever. A door opened up to my right, giving way to an even wider passage. A library!

“I have found pay dirt, my friend!” I called up to Taggart.

“You found whores and gold by the hundred?”

“No, better,” I said. “I’ve found a library. All the answers to my questions are inside such a place, guaranteed.”

“Funny, I never found the answer to any of my questions in a book,” Tag called down from above. “I disabled one of the panels up top but I don’t know what it does.”

“Well, come down here and check out the library for trouble,” I said. “And hurry, I can’t wait to read these tomes!”

I peered into the room a little, looking for signs of traps but I couldn’t see any. Still, I held my patience and waited for the mercenary to come bumbling down.

“Woah!” Taggart said as he dropped down into the spacious secret compartment. “You didn’t tell me there were girls!”

“Only sweet lady knowledge,” I replied, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Before I could say anything else, Taggart rushed through the doors to the Archive, vanishing in front of me entirely.

“Tag! “I yelled, my voice echoing into nothingness. The world in front was shimmering, like a pool of water. What was it?

“Fuck! Help!” Taggart yelped as he strained against something. The sounds of a horrific monstrosity hoarked and harked within, prompting me to grab my scroll of Energy Lance and go charging into the portal after the man.

In an instant, I was in a library again, though things were immediately wrong. The ceiling was a mirror image of the ground, matching the bookshelves and layout perfectly. A figure was standing above me, a shadowy creature with a wide grin on its mouth. We were only ten feet apart but he felt unnervingly close.

“What the devil is all of this?” I muttered, looking around the great library. The shelves formed narrow corridors, making a labyrinth that was impossible for me to navigate. Behind me was a brick wall, sealing off where I had come in. It seemed that there was only one way out and that was through the maze. A shame the Labyrinth Lord Gotttsign was drowned in his own maze, else I would invoke him for my aid.

Chapter 45

My ‘shadow’, for lack of a better term, followed me as I trudged through the narrow maze. The most disappointing thing about this entire experience was the fact that all of the books on the shelves, the thousands upon thousands of volumes, were simply decorations. They could not be removed or altered no matter how hard I tried. A shame, for it would have been nice to have something to read on the journey.

Left, right and left. Hundreds of turns. Steps leading upwards and descents taking me nowhere. I traveled until my feet ached and continued to do so until eventually I reached an opening that led to a great checkered floor with dozens of chess pieces upon them.

These pieces were carved from stone and were the size of a man, each resting on a different square on the ‘board’ floor. An interesting design.

I had seen full sized chess sets before and even ‘live’ chess was popular amongst the peasantry within Elantio but what purpose would a device this size serve in an underground lair?

My shadow rushed up to one of the pieces on the other side of the board and moved his knight. The great stone figure lifted up in the air effortlessly and swayed from side to side as the shadow carried it to a spot across from my king. I would be in check from a position like that – if I were playing.

“Oh no, I’ve read too many stories about playing games with shadows,” I said, walking around the board and to the other side of the room. I peered out into the endless maze and sighed…then again, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to change up my tactics. Fruitlessly searching for hours on end was going nowhere fast…

“Fine, I’ll play,” I said, returning to the front of the board and examining my position. This was ridiculous.

I moved my bishop, taking tremendous effort in the process, sliding it over to take the knight. As soon as the two pieces intersected, a great flash of light washed over the area and the knight vanished.

My shadow floated over to another piece and moved it. I countered. Back and forth, defense and offense. Every move put me in check and every counter advanced my own position but never enough. Eventually we were left with only kings and pawns. There was no way I could win against this double, it seemed to know my strategies, so I turned to my favorite losing position: forcing a potential stalemate.

“I think I’ve won this in a few dozen moves,” I blustered, grunting to push my king diagonally. My counterpart said nothing to that and merely mechanically moved his men.

“And that is a stalled game,” I said, moving my king one last time. Every last piece was frozen now, unable to move. Pawn against pawn, kings facing oblivion if they were to take their move.

My shadow double-looked at the board for a moment and blinked before vanishing in a puff of smoke. “I suppose that’s better than flipping the table,” I said to Odamere, who croaked in agreement.

Mirror Match Solved! 300 XP Gained! appeared in my vision as the chess pieces all melted into the floor. A secret hatch opened up in the center of the floor, revealing a stairwell leading down.

What do you know? Forcing a stalemate had inadvertently won the puzzle! As if I had ever meant to do anything other than spoil my opponent’s hard earned win. But, I suppose it made sense in retrospect.

Shrugging, I descended into the trapdoor, searching for my still-missing ally, Taggart. I hope that he’s okay down here. Sure, the man seemed like he could take care of himself but…in a place like this, he could go missing and I’d never see him again. His fate would forever be a mystery.

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the bottom of the stairs, leading into another library. This one was full of real books, however, and I was quick to examine them.

Spells for Fools, one title read. Magical Tomewriting for Fun and Profit, another said. They were fat, short books with weak spines that barely supported the paper within the binding. Some were so old the letters were worn to threads, the ink impossible to read.

“What do we have here?” I mused as I picked up a copy of Plymouth’s ABCs of Madness and flipped through it. I remembered this from childhood.

All of these were books on magic, old and useless tomes that had more or less been replaced by contemporary primers that were later destroyed by sorcerers. It was an archeological treasure trove but in terms of magical knowledge, I had my doubts there would be any wisdom in a book entitled Magic Musings by Auntie Haystack.

The printing press had been the bane of literature; many poets had lamented but when it came out, the mages had their heyday. The sheer amount of volumes and pamphlets about magic produced could fill the ocean, some say.

Elantio in particular was a city filled to the brim with ‘junk pressers’ as they were called, rumormongers and hucksters who took half-truths and misrememberings from magical theory and produced softcovers that were easy to distribute but hard to keep in one piece. The fact that most of these books were filled with useless information never stopped their sales however, nor did their degrading quality. That was fine if you lost one magic book to wear and tear, twenty more were released in the time it took you to go back to the bookshop!

If I sound bitter, it’s because I spent the better part of my early life studying these books under the auspices that they would improve my abilities in the future. Such junk novels were banned in the household but I had mistakenly believed it was due to their ‘forbidden’ knowledge. My parents had never bothered to explain why certain things were off limits and so I merely assumed they were either evil or truly potent.

Imagine my surprise decades later when I discovered that Magius the Great was nothing more than a common highwayman who was literate. True magical research didn’t rely on popular books and prevailing theory but dense literature that was impossible for the layman to read. I had to learn that the hard way.

This still didn’t stop me from taking a few volumes that I didn’t recognize into my possession. No reason not to look for gold in an open mine, right?

“Finally!” a voice said, sounding far and faint, while also rushing towards me like a wind. I fell backwards, against the bookshelf, startled at the call. “I was beginning to think no one would figure out my stupid puzzle!”

In front of me was a shimmering being, a human made of silver energy. He flowed like water, his body ethereal and shining brightly. I could see partly through him.

“Stay back!” I warned, putting my hand on my fireball canister. “I am armed.”

“Do I look like I want to fight?” the figure said. “I’ve been stuck in this damn silvershape for…what year is it?”

“We restarted the calendar,” I said. “It’s the year 120.”

“Oh dear, I suppose that’s not a good sign,” the being said as he reached a hand out to help me up. “I apologize for surprising you.”

I didn’t take his hand and instead helped myself up. Clambering to my feet, I shuffled away from him. “Who…or what are you?”

“I am the Magician Troy,” he said, “Troygathur Eleganto the Third!”

“You sound like a Mainlander,” I said.

“Are we not on the mainland? Why the hell wouldn’t we be on the mainland?”

“Oh boy, you are not going to be happy when you find out what happened to the gods…” I replied, pulling up a stool from a nearby table.

Chapter 46

Troy was speechless for a long time. Eventually the silvershaded being was able to speak, though weakly. “Well, you have to give humanity credit. We are persistent.”

“You can say that again,” I agreed.

“Thank you kindly for informing me of the situation,” the magician said. “I suppose you would like to hear my own tale as well?”

“I’d rather find a way out of this maze,” I replied. “I mean no offense but I’ve wasted time enough telling you current events.”

Troy chuckled. “If I knew how to get out of here, I’d have told you. But that’s the problem. I built this entire dungeon for the purpose of keeping all of my knowledge inside and all of my enemies out. The only trouble is that I sealed it up so well that I couldn’t get out.”

“You created this place?”

“More like renovated it,” Troy replied. “The Grimvine Dungeon is an ancient thing, friend. I just fixed it up and powered the core.”

“So I’m trapped here until that core is destroyed?” I asked.

“Destroying a dungeon core is a shortcut to total destruction,” the mass of silvery energy warned. “It will shrivel up and kill everyone inside, retracting like a turtle in its shell. You’ll be ripped to shreds before your central nervous system can even register it.”

“Now I really need to find Taggart before he wrecks it in the hopes of escape,” I muttered, rubbing my face. “Why did you do all of this?”

“Mania, mostly. I was paranoid and had many enemies, so I wanted to have a place to seal myself away in case of an attack. I had this silvercoat spell to freeze all of my biological progression, allowing me to effectively outlive my enemies.”

“Are you talking about immortality?” I asked.

“Not quite. This state is almost like being asleep,” Troy explained, raising his dripping silver hand a little. He wobbled in the air as he floated a foot above the ground. “Time passes so quickly. I have to focus to stay in the flow, otherwise years could go by in the blink of an eye.”

“Sounds painful,” I said.

“It’s not. Unless you’re in a conversation,” he retorted.

“So you were paranoid, got carried away and built a safehouse too safe,” I concluded. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just that there’s someone else in here. Someone far nastier than I,” Troy said with a hushed whisper. “It arrived some time ago, breaching through a hole in time and space itself. A demon, I think. Rare things for certain.”

“Oh boy, do I have more bad news,” I said, not realizing I had neglected to mention the demon takeover of the seas and air…

Troy was more disturbed at this information than about the death of the gods. “Demons are not good creatures,” he said in what was a colossal understatement. “They are no doubt mucking about with our souls in the afterlife. To hell with that, I’ll wait until you knuckleheads bring a few gods back or something. I don’t mind another few thousand years in here.”

“I didn’t mean to dismay you so greatly,” I said, putting a hand up to stop him from dematerializing. “It’s not really that bad out there. You just have to learn to stay in one place for a long time. And besides, once you have magic, it’s easy to fight them.”

“Prove it,” Troy replied. “Find that invader and get rid of him. If you do that, you might be able to find the Core.”

“I’m guessing you can’t leave the room?”

“Correct, I was bound to the spot where I cast the spell,” Troy said. “It’s a good thing that I picked the library with the dirty books.”

I snickered at that. “Anything of value in here?”

“It’s mostly junk presses and trashy romance but there is a tome you might find interesting, if you are astute as you seem,” the spirit said as he floated over to the corner of the library. He found one of the books and pulled it free, his silvery hands struggling to hold the object for too long. “Catch!” he cried as he tossed the book at my head.

I flailed upwards, catching the book with the least amount of grace possible, but the man didn’t laugh. We were both spellcasters, we knew athleticism wasn’t our strong suit.

Modifications of Spells and the Mastery of Elemental Arts, a Primer by the Colleagues was the title of the tome, a rather lengthy header.

“Who were the Colleagues?” I asked as I opened up the leather bound book, taking note of the mystical shimmering energy around the ink.

“An anonymous group of mages and wizards who believed in widespread and free access to magic. They were pivotal in making magic legal for the peasant practitioner, back in my time,” Troy explained. I thumbed through a few pages, looking for anything interesting.

…spell modification does not take place in the pages but in the casting. Write the theory, cast the spell, rewrite the theory. Anyone who thinks they can achieve a perfect spell through simple pen and paper writing have probably told you a few of their million gold ideas, all while borrowing a copper from you to pay for their beer!...

As I read the snippet, it was like a light went off in my head. Suddenly everything made sense. I was using the same formulas for everything every time, never improving my spells. I was just relying on rote repetition to make my magic better.

Book Studied! 500 XP Gained! appeared in my vision, along with the congratulations. Level Up! You have reached Level 4!

“Just in the nick of time,” I said, as I continued to stare at the book. There were many more things to learn here and it would take me a while to study this. Perhaps I could get some more XP from it in due time, maybe even a spell or two.

But for now I was going to level up my Bookbinder abilities so I could begin developing my spellbook and start modifying these spells. This primer couldn’t have come at a better time! Maybe I’d be able to find a way to get us the hell out of this maze without the ordeal of facing a demon and finding a core.

I took a seat at one of the nearby tables and laid out my tools. It was time to see what level four had to offer.

You Are Now Level 4!

Select a Mastery Rank to Increase:

Scrollmaster: 3

Bookbinder: 0

Inkcaster: 0

Sticking with my plan, I took a rank in Bookbinder. Immediately I was greeted with a message.

You have become a Rank 1 Bookbinder! You may now form a Codex.

A Codex contains up to five different scrolls in one book. It takes no time to flip through your Codex and access different spells. Creating a Codex requires Binding Material and takes six hours.

You may have as many Codexes as you like.

Fantastic! I wouldn’t need to fill my hips with canisters and weigh myself with a bandoleer just to have access to all my spells. The Codex would be perfect for me. More information popped up.

You may now Modify Spells. It costs 1 Charge to Modify a Spell. When you modify a spell, you are greeted with unique options to improve the spell’s capabilities.

Please note: modifying a spell does not change your current spell effects. You must make all new scrolls with the updated spell in order to see an effect.

Great! Modification was just what I needed. I could take Uncontrollable Fire Column and turn it into a proper flamethrower spell.

You have gained 1 Spell Discipline.

Choose from the spell group below to gain 1 spell in that category:

Power

Force

Will

Defense

Summon

Here was the opportunity to focus my spells a bit more. What to choose? Hmm, well, it seemed that the world was against me in many ways. If I was going to survive whatever my dear cousin was planning next, I’d need to be able to defend myself. And that ranged defense spell certainly wasn’t going to cut it.

I selected Defense and watched as a new menu of spells appeared in front of me.

You have gained a Defensive Discipline!

Please select one spell from below:

Elemental Absorption: Attune yourself to one element. You cannot be harmed by that element in any form for 24 hours. Being struck with elemental spells of that type grant you 1 charge.

Stoneform: Target’s body becomes physically stone and cannot be harmed by any normal means. Magic can still deal damage though it is greatly reduced. Lasts 8 hours.

Spell Sphere: Conjure 4 Spheres of Energy that float around you at all times. When a spell or magical attack attempts to strike you, all Spheres will try to intercept. Each Sphere can prevent 1 attack. Lasts until discharged.

Emergency Spell: At your mental command, activate another Spell you have previously cast. This takes no time.

Regenerative Defense: All injuries and wounds reverse themselves for 10 minutes, no matter how much damage is sustained.

Power Shield: Creates an active shield of energy that resists all forms of attack as long as the wielder can will it.

Power Shield was the most useful out of all of these, for it was the only spell that allowed me to channel my direct will into defense. I was a Lanceman, so perhaps my blood would be good for something after all. Or maybe that too was just another disappointment waiting to happen.

No, no reason to let my head become filled with self-loathing and misery. Power Shield would be an excellent addition to my spell collection, granting me the defensive edge I’d need in any combat situation. I just had to learn how to exercise my will in accordance to the principles of magic, focus and refinement.

One last menu popped up as I finished selecting my new spell.

Your Familiar has advanced to Level 2!

He gains 2 Bonuses, please select from below!

Talkative: Your familiar may speak your language back to you for a few minutes a day.

Spellcaster: Your familiar may cast 1 Spell that you know per day.

Frog’s Landing: Once per day you may land from any height safely.

Toad’s Leap: Once per day you may leap up to 40 feet safely.

Shielded Companion: Your familiar takes no damage regardless of how much you do.

Freedom of Movement: Your companion can free you from binding spells.

My worries about Odamere were endless and so it would be smart to give him Shielded Companion. He enjoyed being snug in my pocket when not perched on my shoulder to watch for trouble and I often had to check to make sure he was still okay after a rough and tumble encounter. This would let the little guy sleep safe and sound during even the most brutal of firefights.

I selected Shielded Companion and then Talkative. This frog was still a human and he deserved the dignity of speech. The other abilities were for a traditional familiar and his master, I was just carrying the guy along until I could find a cure for his transmogriphication.

Finishing up, I took a look at my updated character sheet and smiled. Level 4 had opened up the path to stronger spells and a defensive discipline; call me greedy but I couldn’t stop wondering what 5 would have in store for me!

Chapter 47

I sat at the desk, making my first Codex. There was plenty of binding material in the Archive as well as a book press. Rolling the edge of each scroll I had into the spine of the codex, I slowly pressed the little clamp shut to pin holes through every scroll at once, threading them into one spot. It was crude since the press here was ancient and difficult to use but the papers were all held together perfectly. Each scroll page was slightly pressed out so I could just grab a page and open it to the exact spell I needed.

Odamere stared at me from his spot on top of a book as I worked. “You can say something, you know,” I prodded as I worked, crimping the papers together so the spine was a little stronger. This wouldn’t hold very long under stress.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I’m just a frog!” Odamere replied, his voice low and croaky. “Out of all of the transformed victims you could have grabbed, why did you pick me? The actual frog?”

“Wait, you’re not a human trapped?” I asked.

“I tried to tell you before but you seemed not to understand me very well,” the frog replied.

“So just to confirm, you are a frog and not a toad, right?”

“What is a toad?” he asked, tilting his head. “Frankly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around words. I’d much rather just croak my opinion at you, thank you very much.”

And with that, he ribbited and went back to normal. I was flabbergasted at this revelation. Odamere wasn’t cursed? But…but he had agreed with me! Or was it asinine to assume that a frog could coherently reply to my questions? Had I just been misinterpreting the random motions of an insect-munching amphibian, thinking I could understand it? Oh boy, maybe I should get my head checked after this adventure.

Absorbing the shock of the revelation in turn, I continued my work on the Codex, finishing every defensive spell. Now, if my test was right, this little pamphlet should be flexible enough to roll into the tube…and perfect!

The Codex rolled up tightly and pressed straight into the scroll tube. It took considerable effort, however, to retrieve it, meaning that I couldn’t keep these stored away. I had to keep them out on my person.

A leather strap from my supply was used to thread through the back of the Codex’s spine and then the strap secured to my hip. Now I could yank up the Codex at a moment’s notice and flip through the scrolls to the exact area I needed. It wasn’t perfect but was a fine enough working model for what was ahead.

I didn’t have the time or the charges to begin revising any of my spells, unfortunately. Making two Power Shield Scrolls took everything I had and I was out of ink. I needed to visit Enoja soon and acquire more of the stuff, else I’d be running behind.

Once I finished up, Troy gave me the instructions on how to find the demon on this floor. It wasn’t too difficult, I just needed to pull the secret lever that was disguised as a book about color design. After that, a passageway opened up, revealing another maze of narrow corridors surrounded by shelves.

“Just keep going until you hear a roar and then follow the sound,” Troy said. “And whatever gods are left be with you.”

“I’m afraid all that’s left of the gods is in my ink,” I muttered, trudging along the path, raising my lantern high.

The maze’s design wasn’t particularly dangerous. The traps were just designed to remove adventurers from each other, trapping them in different parts of the maze. Eventually they’d find independent exits out – at least that had been the intention. Something went wrong in the configuration of the dungeon core and now anyone inside would be trapped indefinitely. Perhaps I could get this demon to assist me, either by cunning or by force.

Odamere croaked a warning as I drew near to a three way interaction. My spine shuddered and I felt the invisible presence of eyes on my back. Something was watching me. Better cast now or forever rest in peace.

Pulling up my defensive codex, I looked at the first page where my Power Shield spell was located. Sixteen words seemed to be a novel as the world around me grew darker and more cramped as the spirit of the demon grew closer.

Odamere leapt into my pocket and nestled for protection just as the spell triggered. Immediately, I was enveloped with a warm force of red energy that solidified as I focused. The harder I concentrated, the more firm the shield became until it was so rigid that it actually hindered my ability to walk.

“Fascinating,” I said, holding up my solid red hand. With focus I could separate the energy into digits that were like a gauntlet. “It’s like armor that you can control with a mere thought.”

There was no difficulty in maintaining the spell. My fears of the demon in the area had powered the shield greatly and the adrenaline running through my system would keep it up almost indefinitely. I felt no draining effect as I searched around for the monster.

“Come on out, fiend,” I called, opening my arms defiantly. Will seemed to feed into itself, for as I felt more confident about my abilities, the spell grew stronger and more defined. More real even. “Negotiation would be preferable to violence but I’m fine with either!”

A guttural, feminine voice came from all around me. “You seem feisty for a mortal. Demonblood does not run through you, yet you have magic. Interesting.”

“What is your game?” I asked as I walked in the center of the intersection, looking upwards. The shelves seemed to extend forever. Hanging from one of the shelves was a massive bat demon, a ferocious beast with long ears and dripping fangs.

“No game,” she said. “I just want to be alone. This place is a fine place to be in peace.”

“You don’t desire to harm me?” I asked.

“You came here,” she replied.

“I seek the Dungeon Core that’s keeping me trapped,” I said. “Any idea where it is.”

“I’d have devoured you in seconds if you weren’t shielded,” she huffed. “So why would I tell you?”

“I thought you said you just wanted to be alone.”

“I’d be alone if you were dead,” she replied.

That much was true. “It’ll be faster to make me go away, point me towards the dungeon core and I’ll leave,” I said.

A man’s shout echoed down one of the corridors, the hallway to my left. I kept my gaze on the demon, however, in case this was a trap. But the voice, I recognized. It was Taggart’s mangled cries for help.

“It seems someone found what was worse than a demon,” the creature said from its position affixed to the wall. It continued to stare at me curiously with its beady eyes. “You better go save your friend. Before it’s too late.”

Chapter 48

This could be a bluff or a trick but it wasn’t my life on the line. If Taggart really was in trouble, then I had to go help him as quickly as possible. I kept the shield spell active and turned to run down the hallway. Something struck me from behind but it bounced off my energy shield.

“I had to try,” the demon mumbled as I continued running down the hallway. It was hard to focus on moving and keeping the energy shield up at the same time. Willpower be damned, physical exhaustion took its own toll.

Slowing down to a fast walk, I hurried down the corridor until I reached a large room filled to the brim with water. A kraken, a nightmarish octopus creature the size of a house, was in the center, flailing and smashing the fake books to pieces. Taggart was fighting for his life with his twin daggers, slashing and cutting away at the demon’s tentacles as it tried to seize hold of him.

Krakens were technically a kind of demon, though other demons did not view them as the same. They were interdimensional creatures, drawn to our world by a great flood of violence and cruelty. Occupying waters, the krakens have no thought beyond simple destruction. Deals cannot be made with them.

So why were they considered demons? They appeared after the death of the gods and so it was assumed they were just as susceptible to holy magic. Such a theory was never tested and could never be tested.

But where holy magic failed, arcane magic prevailed. I was going to cook this octopus with ease. Sorcerers were the natural predator of the kraken – I had eaten plenty of it at the dinner table back home.

Almost salivating from the idea of roasting this monster up, I drew out my Fireball scroll and snapped off the spell with incredible speed. Reading and holding the scroll seemed easier now, I don’t know if this was the effect of the bookbinder rank increase or the general level up, but I felt steadier across the board.

A burst of fire was met by a huge torrent of water as the Kraken splashed its colossal tentacles towards me, putting out my spell before it could reach the creature. My attack had done little more than capture the monster’s attention.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you forever!” Taggart said as he fell back and drew out his bow, firing a few shots at one of the kraken’s eyes.

The beast roared in agony and it swung a lumbering purple tentacle towards my head. I couldn’t dive out of the way in time; there was nowhere to flee, so I just focused hard, empowering the shield with all of my might.

There was a huge thunk against the shield as the tentacle bounced off. Two more blows came my way but the shield held, the red energy glowing brightly as I kept my hands up. Focusing was getting harder and harder but as long as I kept my hands up, I could keep the shield going.

Taggart shot another arrow at the monster but the attacks were nearly useless. We’d need magical intervention if we were going to win this one.

“Distract the monster,” I said, “I need a second to breathe!”

Taggart leapt from the shallow he was standing on, digging his knives into the sides of one of the monster’s tentacles. The kraken roared at this and began to thrash, losing all interest in me. As idiotic as the plan was, it had certainly worked!

I drew my Energy Lance spell scroll and aimed at the dead center of the kraken. Here goes nothing.

The Lanceman phantasm appeared at once, galloping on a celestial horse towards the kraken. The energy beam tore through the monster’s body, ripping a huge hole in its torso. Taggart leapt from one of the tentacles into the hole, slashing like a wild man. He found some kind of black organ and struck it with force, causing black blood to pour out of the monster’s body.

The kraken jerked and immediately rolled over into the water, floating inert and dead. Black ooze poured into the dungeon water, turning it bleak as the night sky.

“You alive?” I gasped, wiping the sweat from my forehead as I collapsed onto my knees. Casting spells and maintaining one at the same time was nearly impossible. It was almost painful. The world around me bobbed up and down.

“Yeah, I am,” my mercenary comrade said as he walked beside me, trying to help me up. “The only question is, are you?”

“I’ve learned some new techniques and they are a bit draining, I must admit,” I explained as I climbed to my feet. Sweat was still pouring down my forehead and I felt like vomiting. Kraken Dispatched! 1,000 XP Gained! appeared in my vision. Well that was certainly enough to make me feel better!

The monster melted into the water and after a few minutes, the water itself began to evaporate, leaving nothing behind but a burning smell of sulfur. And a massive chasm leading into another level of the dungeon!

“Taggart, you genius!” I exclaimed as I looked over the edge of the pit. “You found the path to the dungeon core?”

“Oh yeah, that was definitely what I was doing,” he grumbled. “You know I saw some women in that illusion before I came in here, but you saw a library. How come you get the library but there are no women for me?”

“Maybe there’s a few down there, waiting just for you,” I chuckled.

“Actually, I think I’d rather go home. And by home I mean the Archive,” Tag said. “I’m not having the most amount of fun an adventurer can have in these kinds of places.”

“Afraid we’re trapped,” I said. “The guy who made this accidentally made it too well. We’re sealed in until we find a way out. And the most promising way is probably down there.”

“Then by all means, be the leader,” Taggart said, motioning towards the pit. “Because I’m too tired to take charge. This horrid bat demon was chasing me.”

“Yes, I met her,” I said. “Though my meeting was far less deadly.”

Taggart glanced past me, up at the ceiling in the corner. “Let’s just hope she keeps her distance.”

Chapter 49

The bat demon did not keep her distance for terribly long. She followed after us for a while as we made our way into the second level of the dungeon. As I entered through one particular hallway, Taggart hissed to me.

“I can’t take her stalking anymore, man. When is she going to strike?”

“The key to fighting demons is to be strong of will and courage,” I said. “She is holding back for a reason.”

“Yeah, she’s waiting for us to become distracted by a trap or something, then pow! We’re having our souls ripped clean out of us,” Taggart groaned. “Damn it, go fight her or something, I won’t move another inch being stalked like this!”

“You know, I thought you’d be a bit more professional about things,” I chuckled, turning around to face the creature that was standing on the other end of the hall. She was strolling towards us, making no indications that she was intending to stop.

The creature was tall, maybe eight feet in height, with long bat wings and a massive head that could easily chew through the strongest of steel. Her lower half was more humanoid, though barely. Saliva dripped from her jaws as her beady red eyes stared at me.

“Finally you seek a confrontation,” she said.

“Why are you following us? We have no quarrel with you,” I demanded.

“I have no quarrel either,” the demon replied. She made an awful clicking sound with her mouth. It nearly caused me to wince. “I am simply curious as to what you are doing.”

“Well my comrade is terrified of you, so begone!”

The monster looked at me with amusement. “You think you can repel me with Pazu’s power?”

“I can,” I said, puffing out my chest. She wouldn’t get in my mind and shake me from relying on the steadfast power of rebuking. Just like my shield, the more will that went into the rebuke, the stronger it was. “And I will.”

To prove my point, I thrust a hand out. “Pazu rebuke thee!” I bellowed. A bright flash of light emanated from my fingertips, causing the demon to leap backwards in terror.

“Oh fuck!” she shrieked as she turned into a bat the size of a small dog. The creature bobbed up and down for a moment, as if trying to resist the rebuke but she was forced to flee the area.

“Do not think I will be as merciful as to simply banish you next time!” I warned while the monster was forced from the area.

Reminder of the Food Chain! 250 XP Gained! appeared in my vision. Very nice! Glad to see that Pazu’s power worked, even in spite of the delivery being slightly botched at the end. Though, honestly, it wasn’t my problem what happened to an item after delivery, right?

“You never cease to impress me,” Taggart said as I joined back with him walking down the dimly lit corridors. The never-ending bookshelves were finally ending now, revealing nothing but cobblestone flooring and granite wall.

“Oh come now, anyone could have rebuked that demon with the proper tools,” I said.

“Few would actually listen to their lackey’s worries, is what I meant,” Tag said as he took the lead in front of me, checking for traps more actively than before. This gave me time to examine the wall a little to see if it was similar to the kind at the entrance of the dungeon. Maybe we were closer to the exit than I anticipated.

After a minute, I realized that staring at stone was going to get me nowhere. I returned to following after Taggart.

“Well, I don’t see you as a lackey, for one,” I said. “Just a companion that I’m responsible for.”

“Aren’t you sorcerer kiddos all supposed to be spoiled and such?”

“Trust me, my silver spoon was torn from my mouth and shoved up my ass,” I said, being a bit crude since the man was a soldier. “But besides that, a Lanceman was always taught to care for their own servitude as if they were part of the household. It’s a status thing.”

“Why do you consider yourself a Lanceman still?” Tag asked as we turned a corner, making it to a large, flimsy rope bridge across a vast chasm. Memories of that poor prisoner, Brackstone, came rushing back to my mind.

“What?” I asked, looking up from the great pit beneath us. There was nothing but darkness below. Something told me there would be nothing but darkness for a long, long time.

“Your family mocks ya, you’re relegated to working in the Archives and you’ve got no respect, why do you consider yourself a Lanceman? Why not change your last name to something better serving?”

I frowned. “I suppose I don’t see my name as a curse, just a…weight. An unbearably heavy weight that I simply must carry.”

“I’d toss it by the road and move on, but that’s just me,” Taggart said. He crossed the bridge without worry, swaggering as he walked. I waited until he was on the other end to risk it. The thing was far from sturdy and I hustled as fast as I could without causing any rocking.

“I will not toss my lineage away just because some bad things happened, it’s not a coat or a relationship,” I said.

“Isn’t it actually a coat though? Coat-of-arms? Heraldry?” my companion countered. We reached a new hallway, one leading to a large, craggy cavern. Bright blue lights emanated from the inside of the cave, creating shadows of ourselves as we walked forward.

“I suppose you might be right in that aspect,” I said, holding a hand up. “But stop moving for a moment. I sense something.”

“No kidding, maybe it’s got something to do with all this blue light pouring out of that cave,” Tag said.

I took out my Defense Codex and cast two rounds of Deflection Shield on both of us and then a round of Power Shield on myself. It felt easier to cast this time and even easier to maintain, like flexing a muscle that was nice and rested.

“Hang back and watch for trouble,” I said, as I walked forward into the cavern, my shield radiating all around me.

Ahead was a profound artifact, a large square chamber carved out of stone. Ley lines were carved on the sides of the stone, special runic symbols that charted the astral movements of the stars. Such a tool was useless nowadays, as the stars were loose and wild, hinting at the age of the object.

In the center of the large square stone was a blue ball, swirling and spinning in midair. It was about the size of a barn.

This was the dungeon core, of that there could be no doubt. I was surprised at the size of such a thing, surprised and in awe. My shield flickered for a moment as my guard dropped for a slight second, so impressive was the sight of the great device.

“What are you?” I asked as I approached.

“I am Construct 847,” the device replied, its voice a raspy male that warped and bent almost like Troy’s phantasmal voice. “Designation: Underground Expansion and Sealing.”

Interesting.

“Who programmed you?”

“Development was by the Archwizard Atamaeus. Programming has been modified over thousands of iterations,” the sphere explained. It shifted and bobbed up and down. “Current Owner: Melechrais of the Deep Blood.”

That didn’t sound promising. “I see. And who is this Melechrais?”

“Controller of my Core Directive, ruler of this dungeon,” the voice explained. “He rests for now. But when he awakens, he will resume expansion of this place.”

Sounds like some kind of mage or sorcerer who was taking advantage of the free real estate here. Waking him up just to get out of this place sounded like stabbing your foot to stop your finger from hurting.

“Can you let me out?” I asked.

“Your directive is impossible to fulfill,” the core said. “Without answering the protective riddle.”

A riddle? The security system was a riddle? How old was this place? “Fair enough, tell me the riddle then,” I said.

“I have mountains but no land, water but am not wet—”

“A map, can I leave now?” I asked, interrupting his asinine question. Perhaps it was impatient but I had heard this riddle dozens of times growing up. It was one of the more popular and easily solved ones out there, yet people still acted like it was a novelty for some reason.

“You have answered correctly. I am compelled to direct an exit towards you,” the sphere said. There was a hideous grinding noise as the wall to the right opened up into a hallway. I could see light shining down from above.

“Come back any time,” the sphere said, chuckling ominously.

Chapter 50

It was wet and hot compared to the cool, dark dungeon but I didn’t care. It was nice to be outside, free of the constricting walls and fears of all manner of horrors coming after you. Taggart and I went out for rounds of drinks immediately after our success, cheering each other on for our collective bravery.

Dungeon Area Explored 1/4! had appeared in my vision, along with a whopping 1,000 XP for escaping, putting me in an excellent mood. We drank well into the night, talking and laughing about our adventure.

As we sat in Milhouse’s Tavern, drinking heartily, there came a commotion from the front of the alehouse. Half a dozen guards entered into the building, swords drawn and expressions firm.

“Napoleon Lanceman?” one of the guards announced as he aimed his sword at me. My heart froze for a moment as I thought he was going to run me through right then and there. Taggart was too drunk to do anything but watch, though I wasn’t sure he’d fight against the city government for me.

“Sir?” I meekly asked.

“You are under arrest for the murder of your brother, Dro Lanceman,” the guard said. “Surrender yourself at once or have your blood shed for your crime!”

The words didn’t register at first. All I heard was murder and brother…shock and horror went through me at once. “Dro’s dead?” I gasped.

The guards rushed forward and grabbed me, throwing shackles around my wrists and securing my gear. I was in shock, barely feeling as they did this. I had seen my brother just a few days ago, right? He had been taunting me like an ass…but he was dead now? No…

“There has to be some mistake,” I muttered.

“No mistake, filth,” one of the guards said as he socked me in the stomach. “One of the greatest men this city has ever seen is dead and we all know it was you.”

“I have done no crime and I demand to see a lawyer this instant!” I said. Taggart merely watched me from his seat, unsure of what to do.

“Er…boss?” he asked.

Odamere hopped off my shoulder and onto Taggart’s. “Go back to the Archive and inform the others,” I said as the guards bound my wrists to my hips and dragged me out of the tavern. “And get me a barrister!”

I was beaten and bruised on my way to the prison tower of Elantio. The guards were convinced that I had indeed done the murder and wailed on me as freely as they pleased. My teeth became greatly misshapen and my vision was no longer straight by the time our wagon reached the great tower where all of our prisoners were sent.

The pain wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was the knowledge that my brother was dead and some murderer was out there loose, enjoying his freedom while I rotted in his place. This had to be the work of my cousin, right? Would Augustine resort to murdering one of his own kin, just to frame me? Perhaps that was an egotistical thought but I couldn’t figure anything else out. What were the chances two people were after two separate Lancemans?

The Tower of Dissenters and Fools, also informally known as The Prison Tower, was designated for anyone who opposed the Lancemans’ political reign. Sometimes regular criminals were sent here as a warning to others but most of the people in here were political prisoners. And unlike Rioter’s Keep, which focused on keeping political dissidents happy in the understanding they’d be free someday, the people here were imprisoned for life. Their existence would be miserable and painful, an example for all to see.

“Now I know what you’re thinking,” the chief guard said as we wheeled up to the gates of the imposing tower in the center of the city. “How’s a noble fellow like you gonna survive in a hellhole like this? Well, I got good news for you. You’re to be executed come morning, so you don’t gotta worry your pretty little head. This is the only day in prison you’ll be spending.”

“Executed? By whose witness? And what evidence do you have that I have committed this sordid crime?” I said as the gates to the great fortress opened up wide.

“Whose do you think?” the guard said, looking back at me with a grin. He had a golden tooth and a wide smile suggesting that it was a new feature. “Your cousin sold you out. Told us the whole thing.”

“I’ll pay double whatever he is bribing you,” I said, not thinking. Attempting to bribe a guard in broad daylight? What was I doing? I suppose the summary execution had put a panic in my mind. I had to figure some way out of here and fast.

“Bribe? Mums the word,” the guard said, cackling a little as we reached a row of cells affixed into the sides of the prison walls themselves.

“What’s this?” I asked as they pulled me out of the wagon and dragged me towards the large wooden door.

“Solitary. Can’t risk you escaping or bribing others for help,” the captain said with a laugh. “Sorry, pretty boy, but you’re a dead man walking. Best accept it and move on.”

I was thrown into the dark, muddy room still bound and unable to move very well. The door slammed shut as I wriggled in the dirt, trying to get to a comfortable position. It was hard when my hands were shackled to my hips like this.

“Gods damn it all,” I growled as I wriggled back and forth, fighting to free myself from my bonds. It was useless though, iron and flax were just too strong for me to break.

Was this really it? Was I going to die tomorrow, executed for some murder I clearly didn’t commit? This was clearly extrajudicial, someone had to be pulling the strings for it to happen…but who? I didn’t know anyone in the city and I certainly wasn’t anyone’s enemy…no one but Augustine Hartwell Lanceman’s…hmmm.

This was a strange angle to come at me from, but it was admittedly clever. The man could dispose of me without anyone ever tracing my murder back to him…although I was a mule, barely a person already. Would anyone have truly come after Hartwell for his crimes against me? Why kill my brother too?

The timeline to act was brief as possible and there was nothing I could do while lying face down in the dirt. Nothing except contact my team and tell them what to do. Odamere could speak now and that meant I could relay my exact location to Taggart. He was crazy enough to try and break me out. I hope.

Tell everyone, I emoted to my frog as I prepared my speech. Here’s hoping he would relay it. “I’m bound and trapped in solitary in The Prisoner’s Tower, in the cell on the furthest right. They will execute me in the morning, come free me as fast as possible.”

And with that, I was left to whittle the hours away, waiting for some kind of response from my team…if any.

Chapter 51

There was a grunting noise above me. It was feminine and irritated. “Come on, I used to be able…to…squeeze…” Shelly wheezed as she suddenly appeared through the extremely tight bars of the prison window. Despite the grid mesh, she was actually able to push herself through, slowly and with focus.

“Dead gods that must be painful,” I said, watching as she wriggled through. It was only once she was through that I realized that she was wearing a bonnet-cap that wrapped around her face, making it immune to the grid wire.

“I’ve broken into prisons before, thank you very much,” the short woman said as she landed beside me and knelt down to inspect my bindings.

“I’ve never seen a human ever do something like that,” I said.

“Enchantment, obviously,” Shelly said.

“Show me what’s enchanted,” I asked.

“Hey, I barely know you, hot stuff,” she squeaked, laughing a little as she cut my arms free from my hips.

My arms burned as I lifted them up. “Freedom!” I said.

“Not quite,” Shelly replied as she took out a lockpick and began to work on my shackles. The iron bands were heavy and hard to hold up but the occultist was rather adept at getting the lock open.

“There we go!” she said as the bands fell to the sides, clattering to the floor. My wrists burned worse than my arms as I twisted and bent them. Oh it felt good to be able to move my hands again.

“Bold of you to just break in,” I said.

“Even bolder of you to be accused of a murder you certainly did not commit!” Shelly said, wagging a finger in front of me. She took out a little matchbook and handed it to me. “Hold this.”

I complied, holding the match for her as she dug through her satchel for something. “I was happily plundering the dungeon with Taggart this whole time. He can vouch for me. He and some silvery shade thing that refuses to come up because of the state of the world…” I trailed off. “Maybe that last guy doesn’t sound real.”

“Me and my mercenary were devil robbing is the oldest alibi in the book!” Shelly replied as she smacked my shoulder. “You better come up with a better defense than that.”

“I’m going to be killed in the morning, so I don’t think I’m getting the trial I so desperately want,” I sarcastically replied, rubbing my face. “What are you looking for, anyway.”

“Saltcanyon boomsticks, as we call them!” the woman replied as she yanked out a stick of red dynamite.

My eyes went wide.

“For heaven’s nonexistent sake, you brought that into a prison?” I hissed. “You’ll get us both hanged!”

“Hah, I’m already wanted for so many crimes in this city, it’s a wonder they don’t have posters of me everywhere,” Shelly said as she stuck her tongue out at me. “Now strike up a match and let’s get the nonexistent hell out of here!”

“Oh I’m pretty sure hell is still real,” I said. “With humanity’s luck that is most certainly the case. And no, I’m not blowing a hole in the side of the wall. It will catch everyone’s attention.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. The explosion will signal Taggart who will swoop in with his glider-crane to pick us up,” Shelly said. “We’re not idiots. We planned this whole thing out perfectly.”

“Just pick the lock and let’s slip out quietly. Taggart can swoop in without an explosion,” I said.

“That’s what he said too,” the woman grumbled as she shoved the dynamite stick back in her satchel. How the hell she had gotten her hands on such a thing, I didn’t know but I was certainly going to be confiscating it when we got back home.

Shelly approached the barred door and examined it. A heavy wooden beam was on the other side, securing us inside. “This isn’t a hard one,” she mused, taking a hook out from her kit. It was a long, thin and wobbly wire that had a metal hook on one end. It whined a little as she shimmied down through the bars onto the bottom of the wooden bar.

“Gimme your arm,” Shelly said. I complied, thrusting my arm out as she draped the wire around me and yanked down, using me for leverage. The tension grew great and I gritted my teeth as the wire dug into my skin, but it was over in a second. The bar jerked upwards and freed itself from its position, dislodging perfectly.

“We’re out!” the woman said as she quickly opened up the door. “Now let’s go before we get caught!”

I rushed out and looked up towards the night sky. The dark, reddish nebulae caused by the defensive shield around the city made it hard to spot him but Shelly let out a high pitched whistle. A few dogs began to bark and some guards started shouting but they were all too far. No one was expecting someone to break a mule out of solitary.

From above, a triangular metal frame came into view, whistling as it flew downward. It was a glider-crane, a gnomish invention that allowed people to fly short distances – only after jumping off of high heights. Such a device was for thrillseekers, scouts and madmen, and I was none of them.

Taggart, on the other hand, seemed to be a perfect combination of all three, for he held onto the metal frame as it glided towards us. The propeller in the back was affixed to pedals on his feet and if he tilted left or right, the speed could increase or decrease. Magical energies surged through the device but I could see sparks bursting out of the back of it.

“How old is that thing?” I asked as Tag came hurtling towards us, his legs pulling up as a landing wheel dropped down. It was the most curious device.

“Old enough to remember when people didn’t bitch about free transportation!” the vehicle replied. “Now hop on my back and let’s go.”

“Devil powered!” I gasped partly in surprise and partly in wonder. This was a fascinating thing to discover but I had no time to examine it. The large triangular glider began to roll itself forward.

Shelly scrambled onto the back of the large brass diamond and I complied as well, hopping on the other side. There were no handholds so I clung with both arms as best I could, trying not to panic as we lifted off into the air. This was not smooth, like riding a hippogryph for a game of polo. It was more like riding a bull that very much so wants you off.

“Oh gods, we’re going to die!” I moaned as the alarm bell began to ring. Dogs were barking more now and our vehicle was noticed. The camp wasn’t nearly as well organized as the prison I had been to prior, however, and they took some time to arm themselves with bows and arrows to shoot at us. By the time they were firing at the night sky, we were high above.

We sailed up and then, once we were clear of the prison, took a sharp turn downward, gliding in between the many buildings of Elantio. I held on for dear life, trying not to scream as we flew at insane speeds through crowded areas. Taggart was surprisingly skilled at flying this devil-glider, or perhaps it was just the creature within that was in control; either way, we didn’t hit anything. There was no pursuit, for what could chase us at this hour? No sorcerer would get out of bed to go on a prisoner hunt, not this late anyway. And the mundane certainly couldn’t catch us, that was for sure…

Chapter 52

I had never been on the roof of the Archive. Imagine my surprise to see there was a small clubhouse built atop it, along with a roof garden and a small putting green. This building was certainly full of surprises.

The glider landed with grace and ease, allowing the three of us to climb off. I practically kissed the ground, so thankful was I to be off of that terrifying and unstable contraption.

“Hey, where’s my end of the deal?” the glider-frame growled.

“Here’s your payment,” Shelly said to the grumbling device, handing it a small sliver of gleaming green energy. It vanished from her hand, causing the entire glider frame to glow bright green for a moment.

“Ahhh, delicious.”

“Are we square?” Shelly asked.

“Square enough!” the device said as it took off, leaving us behind.

“What was that payment?” I asked.

“Just some experience points,” Shelly said. “I don’t use them so much but devils can’t get enough of them.”

Interesting. They could be transferred as deals? That would make negotiating with demons easier in the future.

Taggart, who was getting his land legs back, walked up to me and gave me a big hug. “I’m so glad we got you before you were hacked to pieces!”

“I’d assume my execution would have been a simple smothering,” I said, clapping the man on the back. “Far worse than being quartered. I think.”

“Yeesh, that’s miserable,” Shelly said, joining in on the hug before we broke apart. “So what did you do, exactly?”

“Nothing and that’s the problem,” I replied. “Did you find me a barrister?”

“No one wants to touch a kinslayer, let alone one who’s a mule,” Shelly grimaced. “Sorry but I tried. The easiest way was to spring you. I say you go duck it out in the tunnels for a few months while they forget about you.”

“How will they forget about me?” I asked, shaking my head. “My life is utterly ruined if I’m not willing to fight for it. I’m innocent. I will clear my name.”

Taggart walked over to a small bar on the roof lounge and began pouring himself a drink. I didn’t know how long those casks had been sitting there but that couldn’t have been a wise idea. “I think I’m siding with Napoleon here. The man’s got everything here, if he rolls over and runs it’ll just get worse. Stand and fight.”

“Thank you, Tag,” I said, bowing to the man. He raised his glass to me before taking a sip. His eyes went wide and he spewed the liquids out and snorted.

“Ugh, this is not vintage.”

“I don’t know whose that is,” I said with a laugh, walking up to the one of the chairs and sitting down for a moment. I was facing so many problems right now but the Archive was still safe. At least that was a silver lining.

“Was there anything of interest while I was gone?” I asked.

Taggart shook his head. “Everything was quiet here. A few of Lucas’ boys came back looking for work so I hired them as security but other than that, not a thing.”

“Good,” I replied as I rubbed my chin. Stubble was starting to come in. Better shave and clean up. I was going to need to look my best if I was going to meet with a lawyer.

“Great work on the rescue team,” I said after I took a few moments to collect myself. “But we’re far from done yet. Shelly, can you go find me a book?”

“What’s it called?”

“The Lawyers of Elantio: a directory.”

Chapter 53

My cape was freshly pressed and cleaned. It was nice having some people around who knew how to launder clothes. I normally just had mine shipped off every month or so but each morning I found freshly cleaned and pressed linens by the front door, same as everyone else. I never knew who was doing the work but I was hoping to thank them at some point.

The secretary escorted me into The Colonel’s office, paying me very little mind. My fancy clothes were nothing special to her, she had probably seen the most expensive of outfits paraded in front of her office daily. I was probably one of the poorer dressed men in the office.

The Colonel was waiting for me by the window, a great diamond shape stained glass portal that’s lower half was made so one could view through it. Below, I could see the great Powanic district of Elantio hard at work, hammering and tinkering away at swords and armor sets.

The man was old and short, with a green military uniform and half a dozen medals hanging from it. He wore a military cap as well, suggesting he either viewed the law profession as war or he hadn’t left his time in the army behind. There were no other decorations in the office that indicated military service, however. Most of the items were just diplomas and certifications of different trades from the guilds in the city.

“You are not the man I was expecting,” the Colonel said as he looked at me curiously.

“I apologize for lying,” I replied, bowing my head a little. “It was dire circumstances.”

The lawyer looked at me hard for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I understand. Napoleon, is it?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You could imagine my surprise when my secretary said that Dro was here. His death was in the papers, so I thought there must have been some kind of mistake.”

“If I used my real name, I feared you would call the police,” I said.

“Why come to an old man for help? Go find some hotshot lawyer, not a military defender,” the man grumbled as he motioned for me to sit at his desk. The large oak lectern was easily twice his size and he looked shrunken behind it.

“You’re famous for defending the Lanceman family and you have a reputation as being an honest lawyer,” I said. “Two rare things. Listen, I didn’t kill my brother and you know that. I know you know that.”

“It was a strange thing to hear about the librarian killing his own kin…” the Colonel agreed. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. “If you didn’t do it, who did?”

“I have a shortlist,” I replied. “It’s possible my cousin did this in order to have me killed indirectly. And it almost worked, for I was to be summarily executed after a brief imprisonment.”

The colonel frowned. “I don’t like to hear that. Do you have proof of this happening?”

“An entire garrison of soldiers was ordered to take me in, any one of them would testify under compulsion,” I said.

The lawyer clicked his tongue as he thought this out. “So your cousin kills your brother and pins it on you. Seems a little complicated and not likely to win in court. Do you have any proof you didn’t do it?”

“I have a witness who can attest that I was in a dungeon during the time of the incident,” I said. “That’s better than most.”

“You bring up devil robbing and a jury is going to immediately think you’re guilty,” the Colonel countered. “If that’s your defense, you’re as good as dead. I think you should save your money and just skip town.”

“No,” I said with a shake of the head. “I will not leave my Archive behind. I will not cede territory to my enemy. Please, sir, you have aided my family in many matters. I know that I bear no magic in my blood but believe me, I am still a Lanceman. Perhaps, dare I say, one of the better ones at that.”

This got a laugh from the lawyer. “Well, you haven’t threatened my life or talked about your natural superiority yet, so I must say I have my doubts about your lineage. But alas, I can’t leave you hanging in the wind. It would be unkind to you. Here is what I can do. I can file a petition to halt your arrest warrant. That will give you time to figure out a proper defense. Come back in a week or so with something, understood? Otherwise, you’ll hang for certain!”

Chapter 54

I kept the hood around my head as I moved through the crowd, searching for my target. The Shroud of Familiarity was ironically helpful for keeping people from bothering me, as no one wanted to be stuck in a conversation with something they couldn’t quite remember. This enabled me to navigate through the Blackwind District, the smallest part of Elantio.

Technically known as the Sailor’s District, Blackwind was more appropriate for Eli Blackwind ran the streets. Gambling, drugs, prostitution, anything illegal, Blackwind had it. I had trafficked with them once before, searching for forbidden magical tomes and artifacts. It was in this district that I had first acquired the magical ink that set me down this long and winding path. And it would be here that I would go on the offensive.

With the injunction filed, I was no longer a wanted man. But I only had a week to clear my name. And in that week, I would have to focus on the most important thing: taking down Hartwell Lanceman. Whether he was behind my brother’s murder or not, it didn’t matter. He was an unknown that was hunting me actively. I needed to turn the tables and begin searching for him instead.

This was why I had reached a clubhouse known as Big Toby’s Lounge. Big Toby, a soft-spoken bouncer, was one of Eli’s right-hand men and knew how to get anything to anyone. And unlike the rest of the Blackwind cartel, Toby dealt with the public. Anyone could get anything from him. Therefore, he would also have the highest amount of information about the comings and goings of people.

I was checked for weapons at the door, though my Codexis were ignored entirely (I wasn’t brazen enough to wear my scrolls in public). Once cleared, they allowed me entry into the smokey lounge where dozens of heavily armed men with skin of charcoal and eyes of iron discussed business. One particularly gigantic man, Big Toby, was sitting on the far end of the lounge, resting on a pile of pillows as he smoked from a hookah.

A barmaid with a rather heavy bosom approached, her irritated expression showing how great of a day she was having. “What do ya want?” she asked.

“I’m looking to speak to the Big Man,” I said.

The woman smacked her lips together with annoyance. “Passphrase changed. But do what you want, it’s not like he’ll do anything about it.”

“I’ll take an ale as well,” I said as she walked off. I approached Big Toby and bowed. “Sir, may I speak with you?”

Toby took a long drag from his hookah pipe and blew the smoke towards me. It burned my eyes, causing tears to form in them. Immediately I could feel my head raise upwards as if I were being elevated on a platform. Headweed for certain. Foul stuff that rotted the mind, or so they said.

“Come sit,” the man quietly said. “I know you.”

“Napoleon, you sold me ink once before,” I reminded him.

“Ah yes. I sold you ink and then sold your location to a man,” Toby said. “I assumed you would die after that. It is good to see you are alive.”

“You admit it so easily?” I asked, shocked at this. How could anyone be so brazen about their betrayal?

“I do not pretend to hide people’s dealings, you know this,” Toby said. “I will disperse any information for a fee or a job. It is simple enough.”

“Then let me cut to the chase,” I said. “I need to find Augustine Hartwell.”

“And I need a demon gone,” Toby replied. “Perhaps we can make a trade?”

I didn’t have time for trades. “How much in cash? I have gold,” I said.

“I don’t take gold in many cases, and this is one such time,” Toby replied. “For my situation is rather dire. A warehouse of mine was breached by a damnable devil or demon, I don’t know which. It has nested upon my wares and refuses to leave. My normal men can’t take it down. Now, if I sold you magical ink once before and you come here with the confidence of a sorcerer…I can only put two and two together. You figured out how to use the ink.”

“Aren’t you clever?” I said. “That’s the case, I have.”

“Then put your magic to good use. Save my warehouse and get rid of the demon and I’ll give you your enemy’s current whereabouts,” he promised.

Toby was good for his word, that much was clear. If he were promising me something, he would deliver. The only trouble was that it required me to fight a demon…damn, how many of these things would I be facing in my life? Oh well, perhaps Pazu’s power would aid me here. Or maybe I could make a deal and turn the monster to my side. I could use an ally for my visit to Hartwell.

“Very well,” I said, reaching a hand out. The mountain of a man’s hand was huge and almost entirely enveloped mine as we shook hands. “I shall see your demon excised.”

“I’ll have my men escort you…and confirm that you’ve done the deed,” Toby said.

My team took me to the Archive where I was able to retrieve my proper scrolls and arm up for the conflict. I decided not to bring anyone along with me, for fear of them being hurt in the battle. I was strong enough to protect myself but anyone else? They would just become a liability.

I didn’t have the time to modify any of my spells, nor did I have any indication on how to do so yet. If possible, I would solve this conflict with peace, though if push came to shove, I’d have a cadre of magical solutions to the demonic problem.

As I loaded up on my supplies in my armory (okay, scroll room but still), Aubergine found me. The woman had scarcely been around since getting her hands on those damnable playing cards, challenging half of the city to games and becoming a local maven in the scene.

She was adorned in the traditional garb of a scholar in Elantio, wearing a frilly golden cap, a white ruffled blouse and tightpants that seemed at odds with human circulation. I could never deal with all of those layers but she seemed quite pleased with her outfit.

“I won these in a card game,” she said, leaning against the door frame, showing off her legs. “I don’t know how you northlanders can wear these things without passing out.”

“Funny, they say the same thing about corsets in the Kaiberlands,” I replied, looking up at her. She seemed healthier than ever, her cheeks fat and full of color.

“Nothing is worse than a corset,” Aubergine said as she entered and sat at the desk I was packing. “You need a platoon of handmaids to get you dressed and then you can forget about doing anything remotely athletic.”

“You don’t strike me as the corset wearing dilettante anyway,” I replied, placing a few scrolls into my bag. A Codex couldn’t be used to protect myself with my Scroll Shield feat, so I still needed a few scrolls on me here and there.

“Indeed, that’s why I was drawn to other means to power,” Aubergine said as she looked idly at her hands. “Speaking of which, I’ve finished reading through your notes and books. I believe I’m ready to try my hand at your theory crafting.”

“Already?” I asked, looking up at her. “I must admit, you caught me off guard. I’m not quite prepared to give you the resources to craft scrolls.”

Aubergine shrugged. “That’s what I’ve come to talk about. I’ve heard the news that you were caught for murder. Seems like the heat’s about to start. If you can’t give me what I want, then I think I’m going to leave.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, digging into my vest pouch and drawing out the emergency bottle of ink I had stashed away. I had been saving it for a rainy day and this was certainly the right time for it. “Here, this is Arithane ink. My last bottle.”

Augbergine’s face grew still and quiet for a moment as she examined the bottle, gingerly reaching out to touch it, though hesitating a second before.

“It won’t bite,” I advised, gently placing it in her hands.

She wrapped her fingers around the bottle and swallowed hard. “Magical power is a rare thing to possess. Why would you hand it to me so willingly? Even when the cards are against you?”

“Because you’re a draw worth having,” I said in what was a sentimental and not cheesy remark.

Aubergine laughed at that, snorting a little as she pulled the bottle away. “Oh come now, you barely know me.”

“You just finished a year’s worth of notes in little more than three weeks,” I said. “I feel like I know you just fine.”

“Do you intend to seduce me at any point?” she asked as she examined the bottle. “I’d rather I know if I’m being used.”

“There’s a beautiful woman who bears many tattoos,” I said. “I think of her often. She is also the link to the ink that you will now depend on. My heart lies with her for now. I should hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

“Me? Heavens no, but Shelley might be sour to hear it. That short firebrand likes you somewhat,” Aubergine replied with a little laugh. She relaxed more at hearing I had no intentions towards her.

“I don’t think I’m going to survive a normal friendship with the occultist, so I won’t even entertain the idea of a romantic one,” I laughed as I went back to packing. “Are you satisfied with my answers? Will you stay now that you have some ink to work with? Trust me, I would like to get more but my hands are tied at the moment.”

“Oh come on, I was never going to leave,” Aubergine said as she pocketed the ink. “I just wanted to see if you’d live up to your end of the bargain when things are heating up. The Feship priesthood was far more…cannibalistic, you see. When things got difficult for them, they’d often become abusive towards their lackeys.”

“I don’t see you as a lackey for one, and for two, is there any chance I can get that ink back if all this was just a test?”

“I’d rather be a lackey than run the show,” the woman said as she wagged a finger in my face, indicating I wouldn’t be getting my bottle back. “The title Grand Archivist might suggest high levels of autonomy but you’ll find the more responsibility you have, the less free you are, no matter your title.”

“That’s a poignant truth,” I agreed. I finished securing the last of my gear, affixing the scroll belts to my hip and clicking them in place. “Take me for example, I just gained my freedom for a week and how do I need to spend it? Fighting a demon in a warehouse.”

“Funny, that strangely reminds me of home.”

Chapter 55

Elantio’s warehouse district was sprawling and huge, a veritable maze of buildings, shanties and tents. Anyone who couldn’t afford to live in a house lived in the warehouse district, often squatting in empty buildings that had foreclosed.

Vagrant’s Row was a popular place for sorcerers to find workers and volunteers for magical experiments. The poor would always subject themselves to the worst conditions, just to feed their family. I had been taken here several times with my father and brothers on business but never had I really considered the situation of the people.

But now, as I entered the teeming area filled with life and humanity, I realized just how desperate their situation was. How many homeless people did Elantio have? How many were suffering from hunger and sickness?

It was like I was entering my city for the first time. The smells, the sights, the sounds, all of it was so wretched. Then I realized what was different. I wasn’t taking the Sorcerer’s Path, the road that was restricted only to those who were of magical potential. That path moved away from the rest of rabble and slums, moving towards the nicer parts of the warehouse district, where gates and guards were plentiful.

A waif walked up to me, a young girl no older than eight at most. She had pock marks on her face and carried a small rose in her hand. “Coin for a flower, sir?” she asked.

I had no money on me, so I merely waved her off. She persisted in following me for a time and it wasn’t until I moved closer to the haunted warehouse that she (and several others) stopped trailing me. I suppose they weren’t interested in someone heading towards a demon.

The street grew sparser as I drew closer to Redbrick Warehouse, indicating I was getting closer to trouble.

Red steam was rising up from one of the buildings. My stomach dropped as I grew close enough to note the address, 138 Redrow. This was the place alright.

A stanchion had been placed outside of the large square building, blocking off anyone from entering. Red energy rose from the beige building and a sign on the door read Condemned due to Demonic Presence! Enter at your own risk!

The building itself was nothing impressive, just a square warehouse with two floors. It was one of those places that criminals liked to store things for a short period of time, until the goods were no longer being searched for. Perhaps they squirreled away something possessed and now it had gotten out.

The illegal nature of this building was probably what stopped them from calling anyone proper for help. Elantio did have a ‘devil patrol’ but they were often very expensive to work with and usually took liberties with the properties they rescued. In some cases, the devil patrol caused more damage than a demon, so some folks went with private investigators to handle it.

Big Toby was smart enough to know this demon would probably kill me. I bet he was counting on my demise as well, so he wouldn’t have to sell out his client. Or maybe Hartwell had given him extra to stage an ambush for me.

All of these worrisome thoughts rolled through my head as I made my way to the front door. I was tempted to cast my defensive spells now…was anyone around? It didn’t seem so. I’d use my ranged defense spell first and then keep my power shield for later. Maintaining the shield while casting other spells was rather difficult anyway.

I quickly cast my spell from my defensive codex, enjoying the better book binding, courtesy of the Archive. After that, I opened up the door to the warehouse and entered, eyes peeled for signs of danger.

The interior of the building was sparse and wide. Hundreds of broken boxes lay at my feet. Windows were shattered and barred and I could see a few bodies lying about. One pile of crates remained untouched, however, stacked high upon each other in the corner.

Resting atop the crates was a great humanoid creature, with goat-legs, red skin and ram horns atop his head. His hands were composed of chisel edges and his yellow eyes locked onto me immediately.

“Who dares come into Randrig’s place?” he shouted as he clomped to his feet, hurling a lance of magical energy towards me.

The shield spell around me caused the lance to go wide, striking a nearby potted plant instead – the last unshattered pot in the entire building.

The demon was huge, nearly 12 feet tall, and was hunching over, preparing to charge at me. I would give him no time nor quarter.

“Pazu rebuke thee!” I bellowed. My words were amplified as they fled from my mouth, causing a wave of red energy to wash over the foul creature. He hissed at me and cowered, though he did not flee.

Quickly, I took advantage of his state by drawing out my Summon Codex. The extra speed from my Fast Draw feat applied here and I was able to conjure both the Goblin and the Skeleton Warrior in a matter of seconds.

As both entities appeared, the demon laughed. “Summons? Try this!”

He raised his chisel-hands upwards and unleashed a burst of black energy that consumed both of my warriors in an instant. The golden threads that bound them to me were broken and they were lashed instead to the demon’s hip. A black line, corrupt and foul, seized hold of my summons and began to force them against me.

The goblin archer spun around and fired a shot at me without remorse or compunction. My ranged defenses held, blocking the arrows as they rained towards. The skeleton warrior, on the other hand, was successful in getting close with his scimitars, and slashed at me with his four arms.

I was forced to fall back, narrowly avoiding the blades as they swung at me. Quickly, I drew out a random scroll and activated Scroll Shield, raising the paper just in time to absorb a clean blow straight towards my head. I blocked the weapons as they came slamming down on me but there was little I could do to defend against the demon, who was now flanking me.

A chisel-spear stuck me in the ribs and I fell to the ground, clutching my wound as blood began to pour. I tried to dismiss my summons through force of will but there was no chance of bypassing the demon’s domination. He was much stronger than my own mind.

“Stupid little human,” the demon said as he knelt over me, staring at me as numbness overtook my body. I was no warrior or knight, a single blow had laid me out. Was I to die here? Oh well…I suppose it was better to go out in a blaze of glory than to be executed.

“Any chance I can parley?” I asked, my mouth burning.

My summons faded as the demon reached out a chisel-hand and placed it on my forehead. I could feel the pain as it pressed hard against me. “What would a demon like me want from a little bug like you?”

And with that, he speared me straight through the brain, killing me instantly.

Chapter 56

I lay on the ground, my head wound impossible to survive. The demon had made short work of me…my summons turned against my side, catching me by total surprise. Death was coming now and I suppose I would find out what was on the other side.

Yet, nothing happened.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Why would I kill you when I can torment you first?” the demon chuckled as it withdrew its hand from my head. My wounds began to heal themselves, rapidly sewing themselves up. “Oh don’t make a mistake, the torture has just begun.”

“Is that so?” I asked. The demon speared me in the head once more. Terror and pain rushed through my whole system as I experienced death once more…except I did not die. Every time I was at the edge of extinction, the brink of annihilation, this demon would pull me back.

“Ahhhh, I taste your misery!” he said. “Though you were a little slippery that time. If I do it again so soon, you might not come back.”

The creature picked me up and tossed me over to the crates, where I landed atop one with a sickening crunch. I could feel more than a few bones break.

“Foolish mortals, thinking they can use astral conjurations to defeat me,” the demon snickered as he began to pace back and forth, rubbing his chisels together. “We demons invented them. Created them for our purposes. Idiot.”

“Friend…psst, friend,” a voice whispered from below. It was a soft male voice, careful and cautious not to be heard. The voice was rather familiar though I couldn’t tell from where. “Are you okay?”

“I think I died twice,” I replied, opening my eyes to see a man staring at me from within the crates. He was hidden in between two of the larger boxes and was crouching down.

“Yes, Randrig will do that to you,” the man advised. “He does enjoy suffering on the brink of death.”

I looked at my hands and then back at the demon. “I feel out of sorts.”

“Near death will do that to you. Just focus on my voice and we might just stand a chance of getting out of here,” the stranger said.

“Who exactly are you?” I asked as I sat up, checking my body for damage. My wounds were healing themselves again, repairing me quickly, albeit in a painful manner. As my bones cracked back into place, I could hear Randrig cheer with satisfaction amidst his rants.

“Neman,” he said. “And I was the last sucker to take Toby’s job. Fortunately my will’s good enough to keep me alive. The rest of my crew? Not so much.”

“I take it we’re just going to be tormented until we eventually croak?” I asked. Odamere stuck his head out of my vest pocket at that and ribbited. Good to see the little guy was still okay.

“That’s the plan. Randrig’s not all there in the mind though. He doesn’t seem to keep track of time very well, so he’ll be coming back for you soon enough,” Neman explained. “I’ve managed to escape his memory long enough to avoid being killed but I doubt you should be so lucky.”

The man’s words were stark enough to pull me from my mental fog and I drew out a copy of Frost Wave from my canister. The demon hadn’t bothered to disarm me. I’ll be damned if I was going down without a fight.

“Can you do anything in a fight?” I asked.

Neman nodded. “I’m a decent enough sorcerer.”

“A Lanceman?” I asked.

“Indeed!” Neman said proudly. “Though don’t tell anyone I got my ass kicked on my first job.”

It was incredible…he was about my age. A cousin for certain, maybe even one of my younger brothers and his powers had manifested. Was I the only mule in the family? What if that truly did mean I was special?

“You alright? Don’t tell me you owe my family money, I swear I don’t care about their politics!” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, deciding not to tell him the truth. I didn’t need to be concerned about his reaction to my presence all of a sudden. “Just ready up. I’ve got my own magic at my disposal.”

“Yes, I noticed that,” the man said. “Interesting. Where did you find your scroll collection?”

“Let’s discuss papers later,” I muttered, “are you ready?”

“As ready as a wounded sorcerer can be,” Neman replied.

I stuck my head over the crate to see the demon was still pacing back and forth, apparently enjoying the ‘high’ provided from my most recent bout of suffering. I had heard that certain demons sought human pain like a drug, using it to boost their own sense of reality and to sometimes impede it. I suppose everything likes to get drunk every now and then.

While the creature paced, I raised the Frost Wave scroll and readied the spell. I had to be tactical about this. Fire a spell, grab another scroll, fire a spell. If I could hit him with two barrages of Frost Wave, I might be able to freeze his body enough to break it.

Make no mistake, there was no killing a creature like this. But if I could shatter its body for a few minutes, we could make a break for it. Otherwise, I’d be dying a few more times tonight.

Krakooooom! The ice spell was not silent or subtle. A huge torrent of spiraling blue energy, a vortex of chill wind, burst forth from the entire scroll as I held it up. The demon turned in time to see the waves of ice wash over him, encasing his entire body in blue chips.

“He has some fight in him! All the bettttter—” the monster stammered as I reloaded, firing another spell as fast as humanly possible. My fingers and hands were a blur and I could hear myself intone the words with perfect diction.

The second frost wave encased the demon in a hard layer of ice. Neman leapt out from behind one of the larger crates and opened both of his hands wide. “Here goes nothing!” he cried, unleashing a classic Twin Lanceman Spear.

Two purple horsemen emerged from the mists surrounding the body of the sorcerer as his eyes grew bright violet. He was channeling a tremendous amount of energy into the spell – too much!

“Stop, you’ll melt the ice before you hit the—” I tried to call out but it was no good. Neman poured so much energy and magic into the lances that they generated enough heat to burn the ice off of the demon, just enough so he could cast a spell.

In an instant we were covered in icy splinters as the monster exploded out from its prison. I covered my eyes, shielding them from the freezing cold specks while they peppered my body.

“Help!” Neman yelped, shifting my attention. The demon Randrig was atop him, one hoofed foot embedded in the man’s torso and his chisel-hand at the side of his head.

Neman would be killed instantly, I had to intervene…except…he was a Lanceman. Were we truly on the same side? I could refreeze the demon while his back was turned and flee, letting Neman distract the creature while I readied the spell. The loss of another Lanceman would devastate the entire magical lineage so quickly, weakening my enemies even more. Hartwell couldn’t survive a family collapse, could he?

And yet, I could see fear in Neman’s eyes. From so far off, it was like I could read into his very soul. There was no malice or cruelty in him, nothing that hadn’t been beaten into him or installed through very harsh etiquette lessons. He had been kind to me so far and was willing to risk his life in battle alongside me…that fear. The same that had been in Aubergine…the same that had been in me.

Fear was how these people ruled. Fear was what had created Elantio…hell, fear led to the destruction of our entire way of being. We lived in fear from sunup to sundown, only relying on those who were scarier than the demons to protect us. But they were just as rapacious and cruel as demonkind, if not even more imaginative.

Fear was also why I wouldn’t let Neman die. Fear of some greater evil than what I had faced, fear that things would turn out worse. This man could easily be my enemy, but he could also be my greatest ally. Why did I have to take actions to preserve some imagined future? Neman had given me no reason to mistrust him so far and had even leapt into battle to escape… He might turn on me someday, but he hadn’t yet. And so I wouldn’t turn on him. I might not be able to save him, but I had to try.

“Pazu rebuke you!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, bellowing with all my might.

The great demon swung its head towards me and snickered. “You have no more power in that name. You may as well be wasting your breath.”

“Pazu rebuke you!” I said once more, pointing at him dramatically. Randrig took this bait and turned fully towards me, forgetting about his victim.

“Pazu isn’t here! This is not his realm! Do not say his name again!” Randrig screamed as he stormed towards me.

Neman scrambled to his feet and readied his spells again.

“Interesting, because I say Pazu rebukes thee!” I dramatically declared again. If I managed to survive this, I could make a career as a demon-fighter in the Kaiberlands, for this was expert baiting. I had done nothing magical and now the creature was focused on me entirely. It appeared demons did not like greater powers being invoked uselessly.

Randrig charged at me, roaring wildly. Three thin beams of energy zipped past him and crashed into me, covering my body with silvery spikes. There was no pain, despite the fact that all I could see were huge quills of silver ripping from my flesh. It was only until Randrig collided with these spears that I realized what happened. Neman had cast a defensive spell on me, thus ensuring I’d be safe in this gambit. That was…kind. And unexpected.

The silver barbs had a powerful warding effect on the demon that threw him backwards. He writhed on the ground for a few moments before he melted into a silvery pool on the ground.

“That’s his form breaking, let’s get the colloquial fuck out of here!” Neman shouted as he ran past me, grabbing me by the collar in the process. Everything had happened so fast I had barely blinked and the demon was gone. It was a good think Neman was either incredibly grateful or just a good guy, because I’m pretty sure I would have been killed a second and potentially third time.

Chapter 57

Encounter Survived! 1,000 XP Gained! “Do not stop pouring,” I said as I watched Neman empty a bottle of gin straight into a tumbler in front of me. We were in his clubhouse, a nice little spot on the west of Albrook Park.

Albrook was a sorcerer only district and I could tell immediately upon entering. The streets were clean, people were well dressed and the air was nice. Someone had even perpetually generated a false blue sky above the area, though it flickered occasionally, showing the red hellscape above.

Statues of my family were everywhere as well. The Lanceman legacy was on full display here, with my forefathers and mothers looming over every aspect of sorcerer society. There was a rumor that these statues were actually endowed with golemic magic, allowing them to become fully functioning warriors in times of trouble. Whether this was true or not was beyond me but I didn’t doubt the idea of Elantio having access to a military force that would have no trouble crushing its own population.

Since Neman was a sorcerer, I stood close by him and no one paid me any mind. Prying into another sorcerer’s daily life was bad form and people generally left each other alone. Everyone was usually kin on some level, so they didn’t have any fear of each other. Doors were left unlocked in a place like this – no thief would dare rob a sorcerer in day or night.

The clubhouse was in an apartment overlooking the trees of the park itself. These little places were all the rage for fledgling sorcerers to host meetings with their lackeys while they still secured a position of authority within the Academy. There was no rent for such a place; one just needed to manifest a spell in order to gain access to one of the spaces and a sorcerer was free to use them for as long as they like.

There was a pool table in here, along with a full stocked bar, a mini-library and a few cots for those who were tired. The place smelled of fresh cedar wood, indicating it was brand new. They gave him a new unit too…I should not be jealous but I certainly was. A metropolitan clubhouse beat a dusty old archive when it came to beauty…though this library had certainly seen better days.

When my comrade finished pouring us both a glass of gin, we drank it down and sat, huddled at the end of the bar, watching out the window.

“We’re brothers now,” Neman said, once the drink had steadied his own nerves. “Brothers not by birth but by death! We both died because of that demon, but we escaped. I say this is the start of a powerful alliance. Devil robber and Sorcerer combined!”

“I’m no devil robber,” I replied. “I’m…” I hesitated, looking into my cup of regret. Gin was not what I should be drinking right now but I needed an escape from the post-battle adrenaline. Coming back to life via demonic magic was not…fun.

“What are you then? A mercenary? One of my father’s friends, looking after me?” the sorcerer asked, scowling a little.

“I’m Napoleon Lanceman,” I confessed. “A cousin of yours. Or maybe a brother, who knows?”

“Napoleon!” the man gasped, dropping his glass as he stumbled off the barstool away from me. “You murdered Dro! You’re wanted for high crimes against Elantio!”

“I’m not a murderer,” I said. “Simply put.”

Neman looked at me and then at the door, then back at me. “I suppose I was in the clutches of Randrig and you saved me…though you could have been looking after your own skin.”

“True,” I said. “Though, I recognized you before you recognized me. So if I truly were a murderer of my own kin, wouldn’t I have killed you by now?”

Neman shrugged. “I don’t know. Kinslayers don’t follow logic.”

“Maybe not but I’m no kinslayer,” I said. “Therefore, I do follow logic.”

This caused the young man to laugh. “You’ve got Lanceman wit, that’s for sure. Fine, then what’s your side of the story? I won’t be quick to judge if I know what happened. Were you fighting with Dro or something?”

“You just graduated, yeah?” I asked.

“Mhmm,” the man said, puffing out his chest. “I am Sorcerer Grand Finalio, of the third degree!”

That was a fancy way to say he was a new recruit in the Academy. “You know how the family picks on us because we have no powers?” I asked. “Then when we manifest, we realize it was all good-natured ribbing?”

“That’s a funny way to describe torment,” Neman grumbled, his face darkening. I could see the fear return to his eyes once more. “I don’t pick on anyone.”

“Well Dro was picking on me, same as anyone in the family would,” I said. “Then he showed up dead the next day. Now, anyone who wasn’t a Lanceman would look at our last interaction as something that would cause me to want revenge, but in truth, that was probably one of the more mild interactions I had with Dro. Hell, with the family, to be honest.”

Neman was silent for a moment as he cast a spell to clean up the broken glass on the ground and restore the gin to its previous state of being in a container, free of any pollutants. I felt a slight flash of envy at the ability to perform magic extemporaneously. I’d have needed to study and write an entire theory in order to perform one of those functions he did.

“I’m inclined to believe you, namely because I felt bad for you when I heard about your bad day at the academy,” Neman said. “I wasn’t there but trust me, on my manifestation day all I was thinking about was you.”

“Worried you’d be cursed too?” I asked.

The man nodded. “Terrified. My father even told me he’d kill me himself if I failed to manifest.”

“Dead gods,” I swore. “And to think I was once proud of that family.”

“You’re not proud of us?” Neman asked, raising an eyebrow. “We command an entire city. We run this place like clockwork, ensure that everything is safe and orderly…what, are you ungrateful to what the Lanceman family has done for you? For us?”

“For them,” I said. “Everything the Lanceman family does is for their own sake. Because the moment I was no longer of value, they tossed me on the street. Threw me to the archives after making good sport of my failures. Frankly, without that job, they might have just killed me.”

“Do you not consider yourself part of that family anymore?” he asked.

“I still do in some way but I’m not proud of it. How can I be proud of something so awful?”

“Stability requires brutality sometimes,” Neman said. “It is part of one’s duty to apply strength and ferocity on those who are weaker and therefore out of line.”

“I’ve heard that theory before,” I replied, “but I think it’s false. Namely because I don’t see strength in putting down those who are weak.”

Neman shrugged. “I suppose I just go with what I’m being taught in the Academy.”

“Speaking of which, what are you doing out of the esteemed walls anyway? What’s with your foray into devil fighting?” I asked.

“I’m just trying to get experience points. They’re hard to come by in class, so I figured one or two real adventures would educate me beyond what the walls were providing. After all, I have magic in my blood already, so why not exercise it?”

“And how did that work out for you?” I chuckled, raising my half-empty tumbler to the man. My vision was already starting to blur. The numbness of alcohol was washing over me and I felt much, much better than I did earlier.

“Not so great, for Big Toby undersold a job to me. Then again, I had insisted so maybe it was my own fault,” Neman continued. “Oh well. So what’s next then? We shake hands and part ways? Because I am still fascinated with how you’ve found so many scrolls. And powerful ones too. You don’t find much mage craft that is able to fight a demon off.”

Neman was a different Lanceman from the others I had met. He was relaxed and kind, without much of an ego. The younger ones were usually better than the olders, especially considering how much abuse the youth take at the hands of the strongest. He certainly wasn’t a powerful sorcerer but he was still a sorcerer, and that could be a powerful ally unto itself. What if I could recruit him to my side?

What side? What exactly was I still doing in all of this chaos? Despite surviving, I hadn’t actually evicted the demon from his abode and thus the terms of my arrangement with Big Toby were moot. I’d need to go back into that danger zone…with backup that couldn’t be controlled this time. Hmm…

“Do you know a man by the name of Hartwell?” I asked, looking into my glass.

“Ugh, you better stay clear of that maniac,” Neman mumbled. “He’s my brother. One of the more aggressive ones from the litter.”

“Well, he has it out for me,” I explained. “And I believe he is the murderer in question. But the only way I can locate that son of a…” I stumbled on the expression for a moment. “But the only way I can find the bastard is by taking out Big Toby’s demon.”

Neman fiddled with his drink for a moment. “Are you going to hurt him?”

“Not if I can help it, but I don’t see how there’s any alternative other than violence at this point,” I confessed. “The man believes a prophecy affects me.”

This caught the young sorcerer’s attention. He looked up at me with his olive green eyes, curious as ever. “Prophecy? I thought those went out of style the same day that the gods did.”

“There are apparently some forces that can’t be stopped and the unfolding of the future is one of them,” I explained. “I know an occultist who is also convinced there’s some destiny about me. This all makes me nather revous. Rather nervous, I mean.”

The alcohol was taking its effect as the room began to double. A strange sense of divine euphoria, some call it drunkenness, overtook me as I realized something. If I combined the strength of the Frost Wave spell with the perpetuity of the Power Shield spell…I could create an icy shield that would encase its target.

“Dead gods, I think I’ve got an idea!” I said as I staggered to my feet. “May I stay here and use your library? I’ve got to write some theorems down.”

“You shouldn’t drink and theorize,” the sorcerer suggested. He was starting to slur his words too. “Ugh, I need to lie down.”

Chapter 58

Loss of inhibition had inadvertently freed a creative spark in my mind. Eventually I sobered up but I never stopped working on the Ice-Trap Spell.

It was interesting, to develop a hybrid spell, but theoretically it was possible. My Bookbinder ability gave me the power to modify existing spells, so why not modify one so much it was basically new?

The idea had merit. I found that there were strong similarities between the Ice Wave and Power Shield spell, not obvious at first but in the metaphysics of it all. Sustained freezing and sustained resistance of damage could be conjoined in such a way to make the energies feed off of each other. Freeze magic to fuel the spell, shield magic to strengthen it. Like hot and cold applied by an expert smith.

Neman took an interest in my work. I was reticent, at first, to show him my secrets, but after some time of discussion, I realized that this young man was so similar to me it was startling. It was like looking at a different version of myself, one who had successfully manifested on the right day. He was relaxed and kind, easy going and quiet, more content to read a book than to make noise. We very well could have been brothers, the way we got along.

The sorcerer didn’t know much about theory, nor did he have any interest in it. But he was more than adequate for testing spells on – his ability to conjure targets for me to strike made for excellent sport. More than sport, he was able to fine tune the resistances of these targets to be similar to demons, allowing me to improve the magic

Neman’s contribution to the project was greatly important. It took half a week (incidentally the length of our hangover) to prepare the new spell. If I had more ink, I’d have been able to do more. My heart yearned to see Enoja for more than one reason. That recent brush with death had me thinking about all sorts of things. Perhaps I should invite her back to the Archive. But that would require finding her first.

For now, I had to focus on the task at hand – defeating Randrig with my new spell. If I had more time, I would have developed a few more spells but a warrant for my arrest would be issued at midnight in two days, it was now or never.

Neman, surprisingly, was interested in joining on my quixotic journey. “The way I see it, we started this together and we’ll end it on a high note! I won’t have my death brother go off to his end without me!” he had said, grabbing his gear when he noticed me packing one morning.

“Don’t be mad, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” I said, shaking my head. “You might be powerful but that demon is something else. Wait until you get a few levels before you go back out.”

“And what? I’m supposed to just let you walk away and die horribly?” the man protested. “I think not! We tested this spell out, it should work just fine. Besides, can’t you rebuke him if it fails?”

That was a good point. We could rebuke and run if the freezing spell didn’t work out. Then try again the next day? No, it would be no good if this assault failed a second time. We had to succeed. Maybe I did need the extra help beyond Taggart.

“Tell me,” I asked as I secured three of the ice trap scrolls in their canisters. “The business with Hartwell. Where do you fall?”

The man took a deep breath. “Well, sir, if what you say is true, that he slayed one of his own kin, then he should be brought to justice. I don’t see how that will play out but I suppose that won’t be my problem to worry about. It’ll be yours.”

That much was true. We secured our gear and headed back to the warehouse, late in the day this time. I weighed bringing Taggart but decided against it, since I had a sorcerer by my side. A single mercenary wouldn’t do much and besides, I didn’t want to expose the poor guy to death-and-resurrection by torture if we lost. Those stakes were a little too high in my opinion.

Neman had studied the Power Shield scroll during my experiment and was now able to create his own shield around the both of us, fueled directly with demon energy. This would give us profound resistance to the attacks from Randrig – for a few blows anyway. The ability to sustain such power was not within Neman’s level. Perhaps he’d gain enough XP from this fight to level up.

“Are we ready?” Neman asked as he smoothed out his coat, raising his hands to cast the shield spell. I could see a grin on his face; the boy was eager for a rematch. He had energy and courage, that was for sure.

“Hit it,” I said, pulling out my Ice Trap scroll and checking my notes one last time. A thin shield of silver energy wrapped around me as Neman activated his power shield. With a deep breath, I kicked in the doors to the warehouse as hard as I could.

The doors burst open from the force of my strike, allowing me to easily charge in, scroll up. Randrig was bent over something, gnawing on it like a hound.

“Back for more?” he growled as he tossed three barbed lightning bolts without looking up. The shots all bounced off the power shield, reflecting towards him. The demon didn’t have a chance to reply, he was struck hard, his entire body tossed into the wall like a rag doll.

I wish I could have had time to give a clever quip. I felt like an action hero from one of those copper novels but my mouth was full of modern and ancient words, conjoined to create a powerful new effect.

The scroll actually burst into flames as I finished the spell, so powerful was the effect. A vortex of red ice flew forth from my fingertips, spiraling into the demon as it climbed onto its haunches. He tried to flail against the magic but was powerless, for the spell was fine tuned to demonic energies. In a flash, he was frozen.

Mechanically, I drew the next scroll and cast it again. Another wave of ice built around the demon. A third was finalized, sealing him in for good. Three layers of ice completely encased the horrid monster, trapping him for the next few hours.

“Just like that?” Neman asked as he approached the frozen chunk of creature.

Producing a bundle of ropes and hooks from my bag, I tossed them to my cousin. “Hook him up and quickly.”

He took the ropes and complied, tying a few knots around the icy boulder before stabbing a few chisels into it.

Thankfully the ice wasn’t so hard to pull due to the fact that it was already beginning to melt. Grabbing the rope, both Neman and I dragged the large block of ice into the street. “I don’t understand what your plan is…” Neman said as he huffed, struggling to pull the block along.

“Every demon,” I wheezed, struggling as well. I probably should have brought Taggart for this part at least, “is bound to a location. Leaving that location is an opportunity for something else to attack them. And he’s defenseless right now. We don’t need to destroy him, we just need nature to take its course.”

“How will we know when we’re out of his territory?”

As if to answer the question, the entire ice ball shook violently for a moment and then, in an instant, the demon was just gone.

Pest Control! 2,000 XP Gained! appeared in my vision. You have leveled up! You are now Level 5!

“Holy hell on a hot horned hamhock!” Neman exclaimed. “I’m level three! Three! Dead gods, do you have…two levels out of that? Two levels?”

“I suppose you were right on the money about school being a waste of time,” I replied, grinning widely. No one paid us any mind, for Neman was a sorcerer. He was being loud and excited and I was free to join him in it. I was free for as long as I had this man’s company. All the more reason to keep him by my side.

“Damn straight!”

“What if I were to tell you I know of a place you can find even more experience? A place where you can test your mettle and contribute to the wellness of the Lanceman clan?” I said.

“Are you trying to get me to work in the Archive? I’d rather die.”

“Glad you have that sentiment,” I replied. “For there’s something below the Archive that I want you to look at for me…”

Chapter 59

After swearing him to secrecy, I told Neman of the Grimvine Dungeon under the Archive. The curious man was excited at the prospect of an actual dungeon to explore, for many of the same reasons I had been.

“Imagine the wealth of knowledge and artifacts within that place! The history and magic within!” he had exclaimed when I told him. “You must show me at once!”

An arrangement was made. I would give him free access to the dungeon and in exchange, he’d stay in the Archives and ally with me. This wasn’t a hard deal to make, as Neman and I had a stronger kinship than any I had felt with my family beforehand. We were death brothers, indeed, and perhaps that bond would be stronger than the lack of magic running through my blood.

For now, he would return to the Academy and make preparations for a longer term leave. Leveling up to three had allowed Neman to eclipse his entire classes by several years, meaning he was free to do as he pleased now. And what would his teachers do, for he could defend from their spells just as easily?

While Neman postponed on his academic career, I’d have the more unpleasant task of tracking down Hartwell and confronting him. What was my plan? Simply put, I didn’t have one more than finding him and seeing what I could force him to confess. With my newest level, I was stronger than ever. He wouldn’t stand a chance if I could catch him by surprise. And that’s just what I intended to do.

But first, I needed to level up. Another level meant another mastery rank. Bookbinder had given me a decent boost to my power but I was pondering going back to Scrollmaster. Continuing down that path would give me greater benefits in the short term, since it was further along than Bookbinder. I already had the Codexis and the ability to modify spells. What else did I need from that branch? Nothing I could think of for now.

I turned my attention to the leveling process as I hurried to Big Toby’s lair. I could travel and work on my abilities, it would seem.

You Are Now Level 5!

Select a Mastery Rank to Increase:

Scrollmaster: 3

Bookbinder: 1

Inkcaster: 0

Scrollmaster it was!

You are now Scrollmaster Rank 4! You gain a Specialty Feat in addition to your bonus feats!

You Gain 1 Specialty Feat! Select from below:

Scrollsmith: Crafting one scroll allows you to craft an extra one for no extra charges.

Spellbinder: Spells that require sustained concentration now gain 5 minutes of free power when cast from a scroll.

Redactor: Modifying existing spells is significantly easier.

Editor: You cannot fail when casting a Scroll.

These were interesting. Spellbinder was powerful for the free sustain time…it may seem like a small amount at first, but five minutes was an eternity in combat. Our last bout had barely been thirty seconds and yet it had felt like an hour. Yet Scrollsmith was efficient for bulk production.

I liked Redactor too, as I had a hell of a time modifying my first spell. So much so the idea of doing it a second time anywhere remotely close to soon was far from my head. But it wouldn’t benefit me now. I was going into a fight against a strong enemy who could use all manner of tricks to harm me. A free Power Shield for five minutes might make all the difference.

In the end, I selected Spellbinder and moved on to the regular scroll feats.

You gain 2 Scroll Feats!

Please Select From Below:

Extra Spells: Gain 3 New Spells.

Rebounding Spell: If your spell is deflected, it rebounds towards the enemy anyway.

Activation Mark: Adds an Activation Mark to a scroll. By touching the mark, you activate the scroll without needing to cast the spell out loud. Only you may use the Activation Mark. You may only have one at any given time.

Fast Caster II: Further increases your spellcasting speed by 25%.

Recall Spell: Change the scroll in your hand to a spell you have previously cast in the day. This may be done once per day.

Tear in Half: Destroy a Scroll to transfer 2 charges to another scroll.

Empowered Scroll Shield: You may sacrifice one scroll to activate a Power Shield for 1 minute.

Educational Cudgel: You may use your scrolls as magical blunt weapons three times per day.

Secret Scroll: Conceals one scroll into your flesh, disguised as a tattoo. Upon pressing the tattoo, returns the scroll to your hand.

Educational Cudgel and Secret Scroll sounded like the perfect combination to surprise my foes entirely with a wild strategy…though such a use would be so singular I shouldn’t take it. A shame. But Rebounding Spell would be key to fighting an enemy sorcerer and Fast Caster II was too good to pass up. I had already benefitted magnificently from the first level of that feat, taking a second? I’d be a blur.

Eschewing my surprise strategy, I went with Rebounding Spell and Fast Caster II, ensuring that I was able to overpower my enemy with a rapid series of spells. He might not be bludgeoned but he would certainly be overwhelmed.

You may learn 2 new spells.

Rune of Sealing: Trap a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Spike Burst: Fire a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

Crystal Arrows: Creates 5 Crystal Arrows that pierce all armor. Must be fired out of a bow.

Hypnotic Sphere: Creates a sphere of energy that hypnotizes all who gaze at it. Especially effective against humans.

Stone of Enlightenment: Creates a Stone of Enlightenment. While wearing this stone on your person, you gain Mental Clarity, resisting all psychic and mental attacks.

Journey of the Moon: Teleport 1 mile in a random direction.

Frozen Touch: Confers an icy energy to your hand. Touching a target freezes them in thick ice for an hour. They emerge unharmed at the end of this period.

Lure Light: Creates a small sphere of light that attracts anything that observes it to follow. The light will take them on a pointless journey away from the area.

Limited Earth Shape: Creates a hammer, chisel or house out of stone for 1 hour.

Elemental Absorption: Attune yourself to one element. You cannot be harmed by that element in any form for 24 hours. Being struck with elemental spells of that type grant you 1 charge.

Stoneform: Target’s body becomes physically stone and cannot be harmed by any normal means. Magic can still deal damage though it is greatly reduced. Lasts 8 hours.

Spell Sphere: Conjure 4 Spheres of Energy that float around you at all times. When a spell or magical attack attempts to strike you, all Spheres will try to intercept. Each Sphere can prevent 1 attack. Lasts until discharged.

Emergency Spell: At your mental command, activate another Spell you have previously cast. This takes no time.

Regenerative Defense: All injuries and wounds reverse themselves for 10 minutes, no matter how much damage is sustained.

Heavy Artillery: Fire three fireballs at a target.

Strike from the Heavens: Strike a target indirectly, bypassing all normal and magical defenses. Deals considerable damage to sorcerers.

Lightning Shield: Creates a shield of lightning that damages anyone who gets within six feet of you.

Aha! My defensive spells were added to the overall list! That increased my options considerably. Spell Sphere in particular was perfect, for it would give me the ability to resist several attacks from my foe – effectively tiring him out before I could cast an offensive spell. That would be far better than simply holding a power shield against him until he grew exhausted.

One more spell to choose…Frozen Touch? No, I already had Ice Trap. Turning my foes into ice with a touch attach was actually worse than using a ranged scroll…what about Heavy Artillery? The best offensive spell was a fireball and so three of them would be even better, as the logic goes. Though…if I were using this spell in-city, it would cause significant devastation. What about Strike from the Heavens? That was indirect, bypassed defenses and seemed to… Hmm, odd.

The spell targeted sorcerers specifically. And the name. Strike from the Heavens? Something about this spell felt different from the others. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I wouldn’t dare say it was a divine blessing for there was nothing left to bless…but still. It was fortuitous to have access to such a power.

Strike from the Heavens it was. And with that, I finalized my character sheet, just as I arrived at Big Toby’s Lounge. At level 5, things were looking stronger than ever.

Chapter 60

Big Toby was more than accommodating once he discovered that I had taken care of his problem. He was quite surprised that I had survived, but put up no fuss whatsoever in giving me the current location of Augustine Hartwell Lanceman. The man was holed up in a tower on the far edges of the city, within Elantio’s Disturbed District.

The Disturbic, as it was known, was the one place that demons and devils were free to roam and romp. The area was technically outside of Elantio’s defensive systems. Many demons had offices set up within the Disturbic, established as embassies of sorts. They weren’t allowed anywhere close to the actual city walls but we still considered this area to be a vital spot for sorcerers to perform their dealings. It was also an area where I wouldn’t need to worry about collateral damage, as no one incapable of defending themselves with magic would be there.

I briefly considered lobbing a fireball at the address I had been given but realized that would be far too easy and also indiscriminate. I wasn’t a lunatic flinging attacks at anything that threatened me. I needed to be precise and surgical.

So I donned my darkest robes and waited until the late of night to pay a visit to Hartwell’s location. The apartment itself was a banged up tower, almost leaning over so pathetic it looked. The spire at the top had fractured and it looked as if gravity were planning to take the whole thing down at some point. Despite the fragile appearance, I could see a light on inside one of the circular windows at the top floor. Someone was home.

Carefully, I clambered up the side of the rocky building. I hadn’t been planning any kind of acrobatic infiltration but the damaged state of the tower made it incredibly easy to scale. Hartwell picked his hiding spot poorly, though why he had chosen a tower this awful was beyond me. Was he ducking out the heat after murdering Dro? Or maybe he was recovering from the fight. I can’t imagine that big bastard went down easily.

The heat of a fire caught my attention as I made my way to a window. Peering through the cracks in the wall, I could see the crackling hearth and a large chair where none other than Hartwell was sitting.

The slender man was injured. I could see it immediately. He was holding his side, wincing as he watched the flames crackle in the fireplace. It looked like Dro had done a number on him…no wonder Big Toby knew where to find him. The man needed medical attention and had received several crates of healing supplies from the black market. Yet, in spite of those supplies, the discarded poultices and potions, the man’s wound remained. He was vulnerable.

I was no killer or kinslayer but this had to be stopped before it got any worse. I had done nothing to provoke this man’s ire and I can imagine Dro had done even less. The meathead was a horse’s ass for sure but he wasn’t the kind to pick fights with other sorcerers. I can’t imagine he even knew the man. But he had done a good job in hurting Hartwell, leaving me to finish the job.

Vengeance wasn’t something I was interested in. Yet as I drew closer, I could almost feel a supernatural desire to vindicate my dead brother. As if he were hovering over me, urging me to do something. A fireball would probably incinerate the man to a crisp and if not, the flames would smoke him out. He had nowhere to go…and yet, I needed answers. If Feship’s Grand Court, or whatever it was called, had prophesied that I was going to be a problem for the city, were there others who wanted me dead too? Was Hartwell truly alone in this? I didn’t think so. And I needed to know the truth.

I pressed myself through one of the holes in the wall, slipping up behind the man.

“You live…” he grumbled. “Damn it all.”

“Are you going to fight me?” I asked. “Or do you want to talk first?”

Hartwell laughed at this, coughing hard in the process. He spat up some blood onto the floor and looked over at me weakly. “Do I look like I’m in the condition to fight?”

“Dro got you good?”

“The man was always a talented fighter,” Hartwell moaned as he closed his eyes. “I should have gotten him drunk first.”

My fists tightened at the casual admittance of the murder. “Why? Why kill him?”

“To frame you, obviously,” Hartwell said. He strained to look over at me. “Come now, have a seat. I won’t bite. I can’t bite.”

I strolled to the large red chair sitting across from the man and sank into it. We sat in silence for a moment, the shadow of the flames flickering across our faces. Hartwell was pleased with himself, despite his injury. He looked gaunt and on the verge of death, but happy to see me in some sick way. It was as if he had been hoping I’d be here.

“What’s going on?” I finally demanded after waiting a few moments to gather my thoughts. “You say there’s a prophecy. You say Feship wants me dead. Why? What is all of this?”

“I suppose some answers would be in order, if you could be kind enough to open this bottle of brandy,” the rogue Lanceman said, gesturing weakly towards the bottle that had fallen onto the ground and rolled by his chair leg.

“On your word you won’t try anything?”

“On my word,” he replied.

I dropped down and grabbed the bottle of brandy. Part of me was expecting a kick to the jaw or something dirty but the other part knew this man was on the way out unless something changed. Maybe if he had more time to recover he would have had a chance against me, but now? Hartwell was beaten. I suppose at the end of this I’d have to determine what to do with him. A gruesome thing.

I uncorked the brandy and handed him the bottle. He dutifully drank it down, gulping large quantities in a single go.

“Easy friend, you’re no good to me slurring your words,” I said, taking the bottle from his mouth.

“Dead gods did I need that,” Hartwell gasped. Life seemed to return to him. He wiped his chin and grinned at me. “Glad to see you still know your place, mule.”

“Enjoy the insults all you like, I’m walking away from the tower at the end of this,” I replied.

Augustine snickered at that. “You’re no murderer.”

“Do I need to kill you? Or just wait for nature to take its course?” I asked.

“Touché,” he replied. “Very well. I suppose some answers are finally in order if you’ve made it this far.”

“What is the prophecy specifically?” I asked. “What does it say?”

“Hell if I know,” he said, sitting up a little, though it pained him greatly to do so. “I’m not someone who investigates wordings and exactitudes. I just know that Feship’s High Priest gave me a note that said the mule had to die.”

“So that’s it? You’re just some lackey for the High Priest?”

“More than a lackey,” he replied. “A hopeful king.”

“King of what?”

“Elantio, of course. After it’s conquered,” Hartwell casually replied.

That made my blood run cold. “Conquered? By who?”

“Who else? Feship, of course. That’s why they wanted you dead. You’re the poison that will destroy them. Cull the mule, capture the city successfully. The Grand Demon King has decided to conquer the entire continent. Usiren is going to be united once again, under one power.”

“What? That’s mad, and a violation of many, many treaties!” I said. “That’s war, is what you’re talking about!”

The man grinned. “Hence why I said conquered.”

Chapter 61

I stared at the wounded Lanceman in complete disbelief. Feship was going against the peace treaties that were signed by all of the demonkings ages ago? This was a fundamental peace between mankind and demons, for all wild devils served Feship in Usiren… If it was war, then our entire city would be besieged by the most foul of evils.

“Dead gods…” I wheezed, taking it all in. “You’re meaning to say that he is planning to invade us?”

Hartwell nodded. “Elantio is the first step to conquer the rest of the cities. It’s smaller than Reinbolt but controls all of the trade routes between the east and the western continents. Villages will be easy to roll over once we have control of a major city. From there, Feship will be able to spread his influence and control to the great city of Reinbolt and then…then we can take the supposed Emperor Brevan’s land.”

“Brevan’s cult won’t be pleased with that,” I said. “The Imperials are not going to be easy to contend with.”

“Hence why we’re striking Elantio first. Brevan won’t have any say over what happens here. His influence wanes in many courts as we speak,” Hartwell explained. “By the time we reach him, his power will have eroded greatly. Besides, war between humans will benefit Feship even if Breven wins. The less mortals there are, the better off his machinations are.”

“You sound like you don’t consider yourself a mortal,” I said. “Are you so eager to betray humanity, your own included?”

“There is only one thing in this world that matters, Napoleon,” Hartwell said. “And that is power. Without it, we are nothing to the demons. Without it, we are nothing to rulers and lords. All a man is, is his power. If shedding humanity gains me more of it, then so be it.”

“You truly have no regrets?” I asked.

There was a silence as the man stared at me. “I can’t say I do,” he admitted. “I have done many things in the pursuit of power. All of them have gotten me closer to the prize.”

“And what prize is that?”

“Peace, my boy,” he said, closing his eyes. “Peace and freedom.”

“You make war for peace?”

“For my own, yes. For I cannot have peace without security and I cannot be secure while everyone else’s boot is on my throat. By serving Feship, I gain the status of king.”

“And as king, you’ll be free to finally organize the world so you’re nice and safe, free of worry and fear,” I said.

“Indeed. The only way to truly be free of fear is to become one’s own god. And the closest way to achieve that in life is kingship, I think,” Hartwell explained. “At the very least, I’d be able to sleep with both eyes shut.”

“Are you truly that naïve? To think that once you’re at the top you can rest?” I asked, scoffing at him as I took a little sip of the brandy. “Have you read history? Have you seen a single story of a usurper or traitor that ends without their own betrayal? You’ve already established the pattern of what your life is going to be. You betrayed your kin, you killed Dro and tried to murder me…all of that is what has led directly to your downfall. If you had just relaxed and kept to your own business, you wouldn’t be dying in demon alley right now.”

The man scowled at me. “History? Who has time for that which is dead and buried? The future belongs to the living.”

“That is where you are wrong. The future belongs and always will, to those who are smart enough to glean the past to determine what lies ahead,” I replied. “I’ve read a dozen tales like yours. True stories from man’s past where kings and lords ruled and reigned indiscriminately. Those who betray are always betrayed in the end. Ironically, your decision to fight your way to the top to get peace ensures you will never have it.”

“What are you saying?” Hartwell asked.

“I’m saying you should have read a book or two before committing to this asinine plan,” I said.

The man was silent for a long time after that. “I see,” he finally said after what felt like an eternity. “I suppose hindsight is a luxury few can afford. But it’s not like I came up with all of this on my own. I’m just an opportunist, following Feship because of what it provides. There’s still an army marching towards us from the Kaiberlands.”

That made the hairs on my neck stand up. I swallowed hard. “How big?”

“I’d assume big enough to lay siege to the city for years and years,” Hartwell replied. “My job was to kill you and secure a few key alliances within the garrison before they arrive. Without me, they’re going to have to fight the old-fashioned way. A city siege.”

“Millions will die!” I exclaimed. “No one’s prepared for war! Those are things of the past, ancient relics…we’d perish within a week.”

“It’s almost like the demons wanted us to have long-term peace and stability to ensure our guards were down just for this,” Hartwell said. “It was a con from the very beginning. From the moment the demonic gave our forefathers their power, they have been planning to seize our lands and take our place. They engineered the death of the gods, they’ll engineer the death of mankind too.”

“And you’d rather join their side than perish?” I asked. “Is that why you stand with Feship?”

“I’d rather rule than die, yes, but more than that…I think mankind has it coming,” Hartwell replied. “We are pitiful bugs. Miserable creatures. Let those with more power take what is rightfully theirs. I know I shall.”

It was becoming clear that Hartwell was just a cog in the war machine of Feship’s Grand Court. The Demon King was making a play against humanity…and I was the lynchpin? The key target? This man in front of me wasn’t even the originator of the plan. He was just a piece of the puzzle and a small one at that. Killing him seemed…cruel. Evil almost.

“Will you confess to Dro’s murder if I let you live?” I asked.

“I’ve a signed confession already written up,” the man said. “And of course, it would only be good to you if I were alive.”

He grinned widely at that as he produced a letter and handed it to me. Blood stained the papers and the hand was shaky but it had been sealed with a sorcerer’s mark, a living signature that keyed Hartwell to the confession.

My stomach dropped as I realized what the man had been planning this whole time. He knew he’d be caught, so he had prepared an escape, an ace in the hole. If I had a confession with his sorc-mark on it, then I’d have to let him live. This meant he might have an escape plan…shit.

Still, I had a signed confession. This was the key to clearing my name. For now. But once Hartwell escaped, he’d be free to come after me again…but it wasn’t Hartwell who was the originator of the attack. It was Feship.

The enormity began to sink in as I took this all in. Feship was making a movement towards controlling all of mankind for the first time since his arrival to Usiren. Dead gods…this was going to be total war…unless I could figure out some way to stop it! After all, I was the one prophesied to be the poison in the city. A poison to demons? Sorcerers?

“I can see you look quite perplexed as you try to solve the entire city’s problems,” Hartwell said. “My advice? Just leave.”

“Oh yes, I would love to take the advice of a madman murderer,” I replied. “No thank you. Elantio is my home and these people are my responsibility. I will handle this. Somehow.”

Chapter 62

In the most unfortunate turn of events, it seemed that my cousin was no longer my biggest problem. Not even close. Rather, it was the unknown army marching from the Kaiberlands towards our very own city. The long peace that had been sustained between all city-states in Usiren would be shattered in this invasion and, with it, war would unfold like it never had before.

A fourth of the city was composed of sorcerers proper, the rest were either servants or civilians. In the blink of an eye, the Lanceman family would be pulled together to fight against the invasion…but if Hartwell had turned against us, how many other Lancemans would be doing the same?

There was no solidarity within the family, not in the least. Everyone was an opportunist and a fearful fighter, trying to get their piece of the pie no matter what. Fractures were common in every household and it was rare for anyone to truly cooperate. How would we handle a war when we couldn’t even treat each other with respect?

This problem had fallen right on my feet. But I would not bungle it. I would not allow our city to fall to forces outside or within. Elantio was my home and more than that, it was also home to millions of people who had nowhere else to go. If a siege came to this place, it would kill countless innocents. I couldn’t let that happen.

Taking Hartwell’s confession to the authorities quickly led to the man’s capture. He wasn’t going anywhere anyway, Dro had done quite a number on him and the wounds were incapable of healing from magic. I wondered if the man would expire during transport but he proved to be rather resilient, recovering enough to confirm that he indeed committed the murder.

The man’s sentence? Life locked away in a dank cell deep under the Prison Tower. He was snickering during the trial, leading me to realize this had been his entire plan. He would receive proper medical treatment and then be placed into one of the most secure places in the entire city. He would ride out the siege in comfort compared to the rest of us. He just needed to wait for Feship to collect him.

I kept my silence about the status of war. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a panic. The authorities at the trial had little care about me anyway, accepting my testimony last and with derision. My words mattered little for the confession, both written and verbal, came straight from the horse’s mouth. I was freed from my legal constraints and with the Colonel’s help, my name was cleared. I was free to return home to the Archive.

The old lawyer walked alongside me as I made my way towards the Archive. I could see the familiar building in the distance and my heart stirred towards it. I just wanted to lay in bed and sleep until this whole thing went away. But it wouldn’t. This was a nightmare there was no waking up from.

“You are deeply disturbed,” the Colonel said as we walked. “What is wrong? Are you afraid that your cousin will escape? I doubt that would be possible.”

“I’ve far worse things on my plate than Hartwell,” I confessed. “Tell me, you’re a military man, yes? Can the city handle an attack from an external force?”

“We’ve got nothing to fear if you’re worried about a demon or two getting in,” he cackled. “Come now, you’ve just got a case of the nerves.”

“You’re sworn to silence as my barrister, right?”

“Indeed,” he said.

I told him everything. Right there in the street. It came tumbling out and I struggled to be hushed about it. The lawyer listened to what I said with a hard face, accepting everything as true without a single moment of hesitation.

“This is a most grave situation,” he said once I had finished. I bent over, gasping for air and exasperated as the heat of the day seemed to settle on me.

“That’s an understatement, sir,” I said. “Dead gods, is there a heat wave on?”

“Let’s get you indoors, son,” the Colonel said. He grabbed my arm and escorted me towards the Archive. “And away from prying ears.”

The library was full of life today, as there was a card tournament going on. I could see several of my own kin out in the main room, playing games of Getherno for handsome sums of money. Vendors were set up as well, selling expansions to the game and offering card samples to those who passed. It was a peaceful and kind scene, something warm to see.

Organizing the mess was Shelley. The short woman had a gnomish megaphone and was shouting out match-ups, ruling announcements and short barks to the group. Sweating gallons at one of the game tables was Lucas and Taggart, who were engaged in a serious game against each other.

The Colonel took me to one of the side rooms, away from the bustling mess and closed the door. We were in the globe room, filled with maps of the entire world. An appropriate place to be to discuss world affairs.

“Alright, sit down and have a drink,” the Colonel said as he walked up to the map of Elantio. “Now, according to Hartwell, Feship is marching on us from the Kaiberlands. We don’t have any idea of their composition, size or speed. A small army could be on us in a week, a large one in six months. Hard to tell.”

I opened up one of the globes near the brown leather sofa I was resting in, revealing a series of drinks. I just wanted Fizzlewater for now, something to refresh me and keep me thinking. A bit of brownroot in the mixture would give me just the edge I needed.

Uncorking the fizzy bottle, I gulped the liquid down as I watched the old lawyer begin drawing calculations on the board with some chalk.

“To lay siege to Elantio, you’d need something capable of destroying the shield system, and then you’d need to take down the walls…” the Colonel murmured. “But demons can’t move freely. So these have to be human soldiers coming in. Meaning it’ll be a traditional attack. Full scale assault. Must be over two-hundred thousand strong to do that. Bodies though…”

“What?” I asked, putting my drink aside. The brownroot was kicking in immediately and I could feel more awake at once.

“I’m just doing some math in my head,” the old man said, rubbing his eyes as he thought. “Feship wouldn’t be able to invade because of the established rules between man and demon – he’ll have to rely entirely on proxies. That means there must be people who are in charge of the in-between.”

“The Grand Court,” I said. “The High Priesthood.”

“Priesthood, eh? So it means Feship wants to go for godhood then. An interesting plan.” The Colonel put the chalk in his vest pocket and sat on the edge of a nearby table. “So what are we to do, young man?”

“I don’t know how to safely alert the city.”

“Without hard data, they won’t believe you,” the old man said, shaking his head. “You’re going to need to collect information about this army.”

“Scouts?” I asked. “We could send Lucas and Taggart to find the army.”

“Good, send forward men to get a report,” the Colonel said, eagerly rubbing his hands together. “We’ll need to prepare a war office in here.”

“We?”

“I’m an old man on the edge of retirement,” the lawyer replied. “I’ll be damned if I let this city go down before I get my pension!”

Chapter 63

The Colonel, or Edward Ophilia the Third, had been in Elantio’s military for twenty years, serving as a soldier first and then a lawyer second. He was an extremely well educated man and knew much about the ways of war. He was perfect for the job of being my war secretary, a job he both informed me of and nominated himself for.

The War Office of the Archive was going to act as the official area of function for our military operation. The goal? Save Elantio. We all sat in the War Room, at a great board table with a map of Elantio on it.

“There’s one thing you’ve all got to know about this city,” the old man had said, once he gathered up the entire crew for an address. The time for games and cards were over with, for now war was upon us. “And that is that it’s full of vultures, cowards and opportunities. The Lanceman family is a petty, miserable group that has used their power of exclusion to hoard all the glory and power for themselves. No offense, Napoleon.”

“None taken,” I remarked. It was an accurate assessment. My family wasn’t particularly well regarded by other sorcerers for their refusal to deal directly with anyone but married relations. Even then, being married to a Lanceman was second-class citizenry.

“So, the truth is if the enemy makes it to these walls, we’re in for a hell of a time. I’ve seen the military organization from the inside and I know for a fact that these people have no chance of organizing themselves. Everyone’s going to call themselves general and spend the rest of the war fighting over who’s in charge of an ever-decreasing rubble heap,” Edward explained. “This assessment doesn’t come from my own mouth by the way. It’s on the lips of every soldier inside of the guard garrison.”

A dire situation. He continued. “Once the city is aware of a threat, it will form a Defense Council, the fourth one since the city’s founding.”

“Only three attacks since the start?” Taggart asked. “That means the soldiers are going to be green.”

“Most won’t have seen war in their lifetimes,” the Colonel agreed. “They think they’re drilling for nothing. Things are lax and there are informal standards imposed upon the garrisons. They are not ready for an all-out siege. The Council will not acknowledge this, since they will want to rely on foot soldiers and guards to fight against the bulwark of enemies. Sorcerers will not be recruited until the late stage.”

“Why?” Shelley asked, raising her hand. “It makes no sense that the strongest would fight later.”

“Sorcerers don’t consider themselves soldiers unless it’s an emergency, the idea is beneath them,” I said, looking to Edward for confirmation. The Colonel nodded deeply at this.

“It’s true. Sorcerers alone are powerful but together they can be troublesome. No one wants to take orders. We haven’t prepared for something like this,” he said.

“So what do we do?” Lucas asked.

“We make our own army,” Aubergine quietly said, causing all heads to turn towards her. She was flipping through her deck during this entire conversation, leading me to wonder if she were planning on leaving.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“We get more of that ink and we make scrolls by the hundreds,” the woman said. “Anyone can cast a spell with the right diction. If we make the scrolls easy to read, we could have any mercenary reading from it. I’ve already tested a spell with Taggart. It was shockingly successful.”

Color me impressed. The woman had done quite a bit of work while I was gone. Good to see that she was on our side.

“The sorcerers are hoarding magic and it’s making them weak,” she continued. “We, on the other hand, have the ability to share power. This makes us stronger, and potentially stronger than the army coming our way.”

“You were with Feship for a while, did you know about the attack?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I only know what I was told. And it wasn’t much.”

That wasn’t a yes or no. Frustrating. Still, I had her help now, so I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. Though…she was a foreign asset. What if she were a spy? Pretending to go along with me? No, that would make no sense. Her job would have been to kill me. Not trick me. If she really was supporting Feship, my throat would have been slit in the middle of the night…yikes, I didn’t even think of that. Then again, I had no idea there was going to be an invasion of the city.

“Augbergine’s right,” I said, ignoring her dodged question. “With the right resources, we can turn this around entirely. Flesh and blood will be marching on the city, and that means we can repel them with magic. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a small force of dedicated spellcasters could turn the tide.”

“Then that’s what we’ll focus on,” the Colonel said as he hunched over the map to adjust a few things. He drew a circle around the city and then a line towards a large clearing, the only spot an army would be able to move towards during a fight. The rest of the terrain was covered in woodlands and bogs. “The Redland Valley is the ideal staging ground for the siege. The enemy will want to take and control the valley for as long as possible. We can assume they’ll be heading straight towards it, then will hold the center.”

“I’m guessing that’s what the city is prepared for?” I asked.

Edward shook his head. “They can’t fight outside of the city for fear of exposure to renegade demons. Remember, the shield protects everyone inside the walls, but not outside.”

“Do we even know if Feship is sending demons to fight?” Aubergine asked.

“The spirits aren’t saying anything about the astral lands being crowded,” Shelley offered. “So I don’t think that’s the case.”

“No,” the Colonel said. “If they had the power to move demons in any kind of long-range capacity, they would have attacked long ago. This entire plot seems to be using humans as the chess pieces. But we still have to assume that the city won’t listen to our ideas.”

“Aren’t you some kind of military man?” the short woman asked. “Why wouldn’t they listen to you?”

“Because I’m not a sorcerer,” he kindly replied. “I’m just some asshole with a law degree.”

“Aw, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Taggart said. “At least you’re a barrister, I’m just some asshole.”

“Rein it in, folks,” I said, pulling the conversation back to the topic at hand. “He’s right we don’t have…” Wait a moment! What about Neman?

“Has anyone seen Neman?” I asked, looking around the group. “I realize just now that we could use his help.”

“He went into the Grimvine a few days back, haven’t seen him since,” Shelley said. “Man was very excited about doing some devil robbing though.”

“Damn, we’ll need to send someone to find him,” I muttered. “He might be able to save all of us.”

“How so?” the Colonel asked.

“Neman’s a sorcerer,” I said. “They’ll listen to him!”

“What level is he?” the lawyer pressed.

“Er…three,” I confessed.

“I don’t think they’re going to listen to him,” the man said. “But still, you never know. Tag, can you go find him?”

“I bet I can track him down,” the mercenary said. He seemed to be all smiles upon hearing news of the incoming war. I suppose a merc like him preferred things to be louder. Well, he was going to get all the noise he wanted, and more. The continent hadn’t seen war in hundreds of years…at least not a true war.

Sure there were spats every now and then between cities, leading to armed engagement, but these were often matters of pride and honor. No one would dare actually attack another city. That would violate the great peace that had permeated the continent. That would break everything we had worked so hard for.

“Good,” the Colonel said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Go find Neman. The rest of you, you’re all being enlisted to help in the war effort. Any objections?”

No one said anything. We had a small crew at the Archive but we were all becoming quite friendly with each other. The idea of leaving this new home seemed scarier than the prospect of facing danger. At least, so Lucas had told me when I asked why he and some of his men had come back. This was becoming their home.

“Well, I came here because the stars and the dead told me to,” Shelley said. “If I gotta throw my hand in to help Elantio, so be it.”

“Indeed,” Aubergine said. “You have me at your full disposal. I’ve tasted the freedom of lounging around doing nothing for days and I won’t go back to the Grand Archives. That’s slavery compared to this kind of job.”

There was a murmur from the rest of the mercenaries at the table, indicating that they were in. I suspected they were looking for a payout, but if they were able to save Elantio, they just might be able to secure one.

“Good,” Edward said once everyone agreed to serve the War Office. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to be the bulwark against the invasion. Lucas, you and your men are going to need to head straight towards the Kaiberlands, fast as you can move. Take horses.”

“How the hell are we gonna afford horses?” the man asked.

Edward took out his coinpurse, a large bag full of gold, and tossed it onto the table. “I’ve got a veritable fortune saved up. Take everything you need and your fill, you greedy bastards. Send out the message, there’s money for any man who will take up arms to serve House Lanceman.”

“Er, no,” I said, moving my hand up to intercept that. “I will not operate under the banner of my family name. This lineage is more pain than it’s worth and there’s only one I would dare to call close to being family. Our banner is going to be new. If I’m to save the city, then I want everyone to know it was a wizard, a magician who did it, not some entitled sorcerer. I worked to gain my power.”

The Colonel nodded. “I understand entirely. What House shall we call ourselves then?”

“House Grayard,” I said. “The Wolves of Elantio. Cunning, clever but more importantly, a pack that works tightly together.”

“House Grayard it is then,” Edward replied. “I shall file the paperwork.”

I suppose that was one benefit to having a lawyer for a war secretary!

Chapter 64

A plan was hatched, rough and raw but a plan nevertheless. Taggart was going to find Neman within the dungeon, and then Edward would work with him to alert the city in a responsible manner. Lucas and his mercenaries would be scouting aggressively while Aubergine and Shelley worked on organizing the Archive for war.

My job? It was to find Enoja once more and gain access to as much Arithane Ink as possible. This was something I had been meaning to do for quite some time anyway, as my excess ink had run out weeks ago. I was just working with my daily supply and crafting two scrolls per day wouldn’t make for heavy artillery. We were going to need perhaps hundreds of scrolls.

Finding my way back to the woman in question wasn’t particularly hard. I could feel a burning sensation in my chest, upon my tattoo, when I intended to find her. As soon as this happened, I knew instinctively where to walk. It was as if she had planted the instructions within me magically.

I couldn’t help but feel a thrill as I made my way through the words, guarded by my skeletal and goblin summons. I hadn’t seen Enoja in quite some time but the memories of being with her were so intense that I dreamt about them often. I wasn’t prone to pining but I did find myself being stolen away from time to time with thoughts about her.

The Ganji woman had given me tremendous power with very little oversight. It was a gift, a gratitude for my saving her, she had said, but still…it seemed all of my survival came about directly because of these powers. Without the Grayard Tattoo, I wouldn’t have been able to level up nearly as quickly—if at all!

Was there some ulterior motive to this gift? I now realized as I drew closer to her cavern that I had no idea who this woman was. She was the sole surviving member of her tribe, sure, but what did that mean? Why did her tribe live out in the wilds, drinking ink to begin with?

It struck me how curious this all seemed. Did Enoja know that Feship was after me? I suppose there was only one way to find out and that was to ask.

I checked the cavern first, calling out for her but to no avail. It would seem that she was not here. There were signs of her presence, however. Her cooking ware was still spread out on the ground and her bed was in the corner of the cave, carefully made. She had few luxuries but the wolf-pelt blanket was something I couldn’t imagine she’d have left behind unless there was trouble… Yet, everything seemed kept and peaceful. She was probably just out hunting or foraging.

I decided against sticking around and waiting for her, for fear of startling the woman. Rather, I’d go looking or Enoja in the rest of the woods. She couldn’t be that far.

Dismissing my guards, as I didn’t want to scare her off, I went wandering in the woods for Enoja, hands never too far from my hip holsters.

A gentle hum caught my attention soon enough. I could feel the tattoo on my body pointing me towards a brush where the sound was coming loud enough.

On the other side of the bushes was a dip in the terrain, followed by a long stream that ran across dozens of smooth stones sticking out of the ground. Standing, ankle deep in the water, was none other than my beloved Enoja.

The daylight was raining down on her freely and I could see every inch of her beautiful backside as she bent over to cup water in her hands. Raising it high, she poured the water down the back of her neck, allowing the liquid to run in between her pale, tattooed cheeks.

I swallowed hard at the sight of her side eye meeting mine. She was pale as the moonlight still, adorned with twice as many tattoos as when I last saw her and lovelier than ever.

“Grayard?” she said, putting her hands on her hips and flexing out her rear a little. “Is that you, my wolf?”

“It is,” I said, clasping my cloak latch. “You seem to be struggling to get clean… May I help?”

“Only if you Grayard are very thorough,” she replied, slowly turning to face me.

Her hands beckoned. I threw off my clothes and hurried into the waters. My ankles screamed out in shock as the frigid water covered them but the rest of me didn’t care.

“I have dreamt of you every day since we last met,” I said as I grabbed hold of her hand. She gasped in excitement, allowing me to pull her body into mine. We met in a fierce kiss, our lips pressing against each other. “Tell me, Enoja,” I gasped in between kisses. “Are you well?”

“Things do not move quickly in seclusion, Grayard, my wolf, I have not changed,” she said, her teeth catching the edge of my ear. The bite was electrifying and it prompted me to grip her lower back and squeeze. “Have you?”

Soon, I was showing her how I had missed her, and we found ourselves in the waters, soaking wet and making up for all that time we had lost.

When we were done loving each other, we lay together, on the river bank, our bottoms in the water and backs on the grass as we stared up at the sky.

Enoja was gently rubbing herself, humming a tune that threatened to lull me to sleep. “Are you still not satisfied, my dear?” I asked, looking over at her.

“I am stretching and soothing, for the child,” she said.

With the way we had made love before, I had figured she wanted a baby, though I doubted she wanted a father around.

“I hope your womb quickens, my dear,” I replied, kissing her stomach.

She placed her hands on my head and left them there. “You are not afraid of my desire for a babe?”

“I do not have the right to have children, all of my kids are bastards by law,” I explained. “Should I spawn a life, it is only the mothers’, not mine.”

“There is sorrow in your voice at that, wolf. Do you wish to be a father?”

“I suppose I wish to simply have all the options that normal humans do,” I said, rolling over and straddling beside her so we were pressed against each other once more. She snuggled into me and draped my arms around her.

“Then stay with me. You’re a good man and you have done good. The tattoo upon your chest sings of your praises. You may not have noticed, but the details are growing finer. Greater definition means a great character. Stay with me and start my tribe again. It will be bliss.”

I sighed. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that, Enoja. My life is in the Archive. In Elantio…but, I was thinking about offering the same to you.”

“Surely you jest,” she said, pulling away from me and sitting up proper. “You want me to come to the city?”

“I would love to have you in the Archive. You’d be safe and sound there, free to raise as many kids as you like and you know…we could raise a family together,” I said. The words came tumbling out faster than I could think them through but it made sense. I didn’t want to pine after my woman night after night. I just wanted to do my work, come home and see my wife.

“You are a madman to try and tame me,” she scolded. Despite her tone, she was still smiling, considering the entire idea. “You know my kind are criminals to the governments, yes? Sorcerers hate us. We are enslaved and sacrificed regularly.”

“My home isn’t going to be very stable much longer,” I said. “War is coming to the city and no one will care about one lone Ganji woman.”

“You invite me to safety and then say there is war!” she laughed.

“I am tasked with protecting the city,” I replied. “If you are to be my wife, then I would assume you would die by my side in whatever matter my work involved.”

She grew still and quiet. “Was this burden placed upon you, or have you taken it upon yourself?” she asked.

“I genuinely ask myself the same thing,” I replied. “I don’t know. But I do know that millions of innocents will perish if I do nothing. So I must stop this war from ending Elantio.”

“You will need a good woman beside you, to keep you sane,” she said, diving into my arms and burying herself in my neck. “For you are most certainly going to get yourself killed otherwise.”

“Really?” I gasped, holding her in shock. “You’ll marry me?”

“Yes. Let’s make many wolves, Grayard.”

Chapter 65

Enoja had no interest in abandoning her ways, customs or traditions. But she was sick of living in a cave in the middle of nowhere. While many might think of the Ganji people as savages or uncivilized, they had their own way of living and that was comparable to modern civilization, though they lacked industrial technologies. That had been the only dividing line between them and the rest of the city states.

Now that she was entering another civilization for the first time in ages, she was excited to begin developing a new chapter of the tribe’s history.

“Someday we shall return to the cave as conquerors, as mighty people who control all,” she had eulogized as she performed her rituals to cleanse the cave of all remaining magic. All traces of her vanished and so did my sense of her location. “But for now, I’m content to leave it behind for something with a goddamn bed.”

I laughed at that and kissed my bride. Hands enjoined, we walked through the woods, making our way not towards Elantio but the Grandview Mountains. The great looming corpse of Arithane was visible from here and we stopped upon a hill to observe it.

“Proper marriage in the Enoja circle requires us to bathe in the ink and then tattoo one another, before making love before the entire tribe,” she said. “We can substitute a fetish statue for the tribe, however. I like my privacy.”

“You bring up an important topic then,” I said. “Because I wasn’t just here to collect your beautiful body, I need to resupply on ink. And as much as possible.”

Enoja ran a hand down my cheek. “I know, Grayard. I know you are seeking the means to defend from the invasion. But I fear security around the ink has grown worse since you left. The Imperial Cult has taken over Eastwind Wheel’s territory and has set up a mining operation. They are powerful sorcerers.”

Oh great. I was hoping not to deal with the cult again anytime soon. But…they respected power, did they not? Perhaps I could just walk in and negotiate some kind of deal. I’m sure there was something they wanted more than a few crates of ink.

I bid farewell for a short while to Enoja, leaving her behind to keep an eye out for trouble. We shared a link through the tattoo on my chest and so she could emote when trouble was coming. A handy thing to have. It seemed our bond was stronger than ever now.

The architecture leading up to the mountain screamed Imperial Cult from its design. Tall spires, made from magic and metal lined the roadway, with many signs promising food and shelter to all who needed it. Such signs came with an invisible asterisk, of course, fine print that said you were agreeing to be captured and molded mentally to serve the supposed godking Brevan.

I shivered as I passed a few miners, men and women armed with pickaxes and helmets, covered in black soot and dull, glazed over eyes. They had no personality left, just an impulse to work and to serve.

The mine-slaves paid me no mind as I walked up to the open gates of the mining camp. Anyone who had power within the imperial cult was a sorcerer and thus they didn’t need to worry about invaders coming into the camp. They were the biggest thing to worry about in the world.

I entered the camp and looked around for any signs of a leader. One man, a guard of some sort, wearing a wreath for a helm, approached me and gave me a stern look.

“You lost mate? I should hope not…” he muttered to me. “Best turn around and just go back to where you came from. Starvation is better than what awaits you.”

Odd to find someone with compassion within the cult. I suppose they hadn’t sapped empathy out of him just yet.

“I am seeking the leader of this camp,” I said. “Someone who is in charge and able to negotiate trade.”

The man’s shoulders dropped at hearing this and he seemed to relax a little more. “Ah, an emissary?”

“Sure, on behalf of House Grayard,” I said, making it sound quite official even though it wasn’t.

“Sounds fancy, I’ll take you to the captain…though I warn you, if this is a ruse…it’s going to end very poorly for you. Far worse than death.”

Chapter 66

Half of her face was horrifically burned. It was a fresh wound too, one that looked as if it were still stinging brutally. The woman looked at me with one good eye, her other covered with a patch. “Hmmm,” she said, staring at my face without changing expressions.

I could feel mystical energies reach out to scan me. I didn’t resist them as I sat across the iron luggage chest that Mayas was using as a desk. Instead, I merely let her search me over with her sorcerous powers, hoping that it would detect the one quest I had performed on behalf of the Imperial Cult.

Mayas tilted her head as she squinted at me. “You’re a Starborn.”

“Starborn?” I asked.

“Aye,” she said, sitting back and sighing heavily. “Fuck me, you’re a Starborn.”

She took out a large flagon of ale and began to drink it down. Rather hard. Why was my presence always some reason to consume copious amounts of alcohol?

“Do you want to maybe expound on that?” I asked.

The woman slowly nodded as she wiped her chin, wincing a little as her hand touched the raw part of her flesh. “When the gods were slain, Nixos of the Shades and Stars vowed her revenge. She said that any bloodline that produced magic would have a child born under a bad star. That child would be without magical power, a mule. Starborn, for lack of a better term.”

“So this was the machinations of the gods,” I muttered, looking down at my hands. “Does this mean I’m chosen for something?”

“Chosen? No, the goddess was simply getting revenge however she could before her destruction, you are as free from destiny as the rest of us, there are no prophecies anymore,” Mayas explained.

I gritted my teeth but said nothing. She didn’t notice the change in my expression and continued talking. “When a Starborn comes for the ink, we must give as much as possible,” she said. “Those were my standing orders.”

That came as a shock. So many parts of my journey had been hazardous and involved doing dangerous favors or exploring deadly terrain for power. Now she was just handing this to me? That was rather dubious.

“I fear that I suspect a catch…” I said.

“I’m not the one you’re going to need to convince of being such,” Mayas said. “You’ll have a whole host of people watching you in your duel.”

“Duel?”

“Oh yes, a Starborn must be willing to stand by their claim to power in order to gain the aid of the Cult,” she replied. “It will be a simple affair. One of our best against you. If you survive the ordeal, we’d be more than happy to recognize you as a Starborn.”

“And if I fail?”

“That’s one more slave for the pits,” she said with a smile. “What do you say?”

“A duel to bloodshed and not a drop more,” I said. “I won’t deal with any barbarism related to killing one of your own.”

“Culling the weak is how we grow strong,” she replied. “You don’t think so?”

“How much stronger are you without half of your face?” I bluntly asked.

The woman winced at this almost as sharply as if I had touched the wounds directly. “How do you know one of my own caused this?”

“Because otherwise you’d be healed with magic,” I said, pulling out my scroll of healing. “May I?”

The woman squinted at me for a moment. “Starborns always find magic, be it from demons or fairy things…your power though it comes from the ink, doesn’t it? That’s why you’re here. Makes sense, I suppose.”

“Is the Starborn why you are here?” I asked.

Mayas nodded. “Orders were to supply the right man with the right inks at the right time.”

“And you’re telling me with orders that specific, you don’t believe in prophecy?”

The woman shrugged. “If there’s anyone left to worship, you’d think they’d let us know.”

Fair enough, I suppose. “Do you wish for me to heal you?” I asked. “It is within my power.”

“If I were to accept your kindness, it would show weakness to the rest, for if I cannot heal myself with my own power, what good am I?” she said, though a bit of sorrow tinged her voice.

“Why must you tell anyone the truth? Aren’t lies the foundation of your whole organization?” I asked.

“Why would you say that?” she asked.

“No reason, I suppose.” Perhaps I could put a seed of doubt into this woman’s heart. She seemed rather reasonable. Besides, I hated to see someone with such raw injuries. She really needed the medical attention.

“If the man who saw my face sees it healed, he’ll just make both sides match,” Mayas finally admitted. “I am not stronger than him. And so I am to be tormented at his pleasure.”

“Sounds to me like he’s the strongest of the bunch then, and therefore a candidate for a fight,” I offered. “And if he lost face from the duel, I don’t think he’ll be worried too much about yours.”

Chapter 67

They always constructed an arena wherever they went. The Imperial Cult loved their bloodsport more than anything else, often having prisoners duke it out to the bitter end for their pleasure. This was one of the reasons that the rest of the continent despised the cult. Monsters and humans were regularly captured to send to fight in the Siege Pits of Bristlewood. This included those who committed crimes within the Emperor’s territory as well.

Fortunately, this arena, a small thirty by thirty square, was host to two willing participants, Klesius Alamais of Sackron versus myself, Napoleon Grayard. The name Lanceman was quickly losing its luster, especially since I was on the cusp of starting a new family. I’d have sons and daughters soon, would I tell them they were Lancemans? Would I tell them that they were to be proud of their cowardly, cruel and contemptuous namesake? Nonsense. It was time to move on. Wolf was a much better name than Lanceman anyway.

My foe, Klesius, was a powerful pyromancer. He wore long red robes with ornate orange pauldrons that had flaming spikes on the ends of them. The fire burned at all times and it didn’t seem to bother him. His sleeves, too, were engulfed with perpetual fire, lending a rather terrifying visage to the man. A shame I had two ice spells prepared for this!

The boisterous man had long cheekbones and a rather preposterous grin to him. He looked refined as any sorcerer could be, a man of exceptional breeding and taste.

“You named me as the one to face?” Klesius said as he took his place across from me. “Surely you realize that, as I am the Superior Sorcerer of this camp, you are committing suicide, yes? My power is too great to hold back. A single snap of my finger and you shall be annihilated. That is my guarantee, fool.”

“I asked for the strongest as my opponent and your name came up as a contender, surely you must be flattered?” I offered to the man, raising my hands. He had no idea what he was in for. My scrolls were ready and my senses were never sharper. I had Strike from the Heavens prepared well in advance for this – those scrolls had been to fight Hartwell, a fight that thankfully never came. But I was happy to use them all the same on this jackass.

“Flattery is for those who crave the lesser power,” he sneered back, raising his own hands. Mayas stepped in between us.

“The rules for the duel are simple. Both parties shall use their magic to overpower the other. Whoever is left standing shall be declared the winner. Should a single drop of blood be lost, a winner shall also be declared, though this cannot bind the reaction of the other,” she announced. This was a fancy way of saying Klesius wanted me dead.

A small crowd of sorcerers gathered around. All curious to see what would come of this. The camp was quiet and muted, our proximity to the dead god creating a dense fog of silence in the area. No one made a sound and my ears throbbed from the intensity of the quietude.

“Begin!” she shouted suddenly, her shrill voice piercing the silence. This caught Klesius off-guard for some reason; the supposed superior sorcerer flinched as I drew my first spell out of its canister and unfurled it with blinding speed. Fast Caster II made this process almost instantaneous and automatic; I myself was surprised at how quickly I could snap off a spell.

Instantly, a bolt of lightning struck from the sky towards Klesius. A blue shield of magic wrapped around the man at the last second – though the bolt pierced anyway, striking the man hard. He let out a cry in agony but did not relent.

From his fingertips, a wave of flames came barreling outwards, taking the forms of wild stallions. I drew my Frost Wave Scroll and snapped it off in reply, the blue frostwave crashing into the horses, causing steam to billow forth in front of us both.

The man lost sight of me and I of him. I took this opportunity to cast Power Shield upon myself, greatly enjoying the free five minutes provided by my latest feat. A red shield wrapped around my body just in time to block a barrage of lightning bolts, not from the sky but from a specific point within the steam. The stream of electricity crashed into me and held for quite some time, giving me an opportunity.

I threw a fireball into the center of the stream, pinpointing my hidden enemy from his attacks. I heard a yelp as the flames washed over the entire area but to my chagrin, the steam and smoke dispersed to reveal a still standing sorcerer.

Klesius was holding out a shell of stone and grinned at me wildly. “You really think a few cheap shots can kill me? What level are you, hmmm? Ten? Fifteen?”

“I don’t intend to kill you, just to get a drop of blood,” I replied. “And my level is my own business.”

The man was standing just fine even after two of my strongest attacks. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Or was he simply trying to buy time to recharge his energy? Better strike again but with more cunning…got it!

I threw out a Stonewall spell and thrust a finger forward, directing the wall to grow beneath my opponent. Klesius tossed up another shield of stone to block my attack, not realizing I was simply manipulating the environment. Suddenly, he found himself careening upwards as the earth burst into a twenty foot wall beneath him. The force wasn’t enough to toss him but it didn’t need to be – I dismissed the spell as soon as they reached the peak.

The sorcerer fell ten feet straight down but caught himself with a feather spell, his entire body becoming pink as he glided safely to the ground. “That was clever,” he huffed. I could see the sweat beading on his brow as he realized he wasn’t dealing with a traditional sorcerer. “A bit too clever for my taste. But it seems you rely a little too much on those words. Let’s see how you do without a bit of sound!”

He snapped his fingers and, at once, all noise in the area was slurped up like water from a straw. I could feel the words ripped from my mouth as I tried to speak. It was impossible to make a sound now. Damn it! Would I still be able to cast? Only one way to find out!

I grabbed another Fireball spell and tried to read it. Nothing, no effect but a charge burned off the paper’s command line. That meant I simply failed, right? Maybe it was because I couldn’t hear myself…I tried to read it again, slowly enunciating each word with what I felt was the proper diction, but to no avail. The scroll burst up in my fingertips, gone for good.

Klesius tried to say something at me but I couldn’t read his lips. He snapped and a few bolts of magic struck my Power Shield. I was safe for now, but his silence spell might be able to outlast my own defenses…damn…I should have gotten that scroll bludgeon feat.

What did I know about countering ongoing magic? Not much. I couldn’t counter anything without a spell of my own…though wasn’t there some kind of magic principle about stopping silence?

A few more bolts of magical energy struck me, and my shield still held. The man was powerless to harm me and five minutes was a long time to be standing there. I took the opportunity to quickly dig into one of my satchels and pull out a book on magic. Hey, it’s never a bad time to search for answers.

Flipping to the index, I found the area on countering silence spells. With nothing better to do, since my power shield was working just fine, I quickly skimmed for help.

…silence and muting spells are the bane of all dictation based magicians, unless you perform a simple trick. Form a hook in the right side of your mouth and bite between each vowel…

The instructions were there! Eureka! I did exactly as the instructions gave, forming a hook in my mouth and biting a few times as I spoke. It didn’t feel like I was speaking but I focused on each vowel while casting a new spell; Uncontrollable Flame Column.

The spell, my first spell, written in peril and danger, was composed of two words. I could sound those out with the hook-trick.

Flames burst forth from my fingertips as I aimed at my opponent. Klesius voicelessly cried out as I snapped off the spell, the flames consuming him entirely. He fell to the ground, thrashing and burning, giving me time to ready another Strike from the Heavens.

This spell was far more complicated but I bit my hand hard, going through each letter step by step. The silence was pierced by the tremendous effect of the spell as it ripped through the air, bypassing all defenses for good this time. The fallen sorcerer was struck in the side and he let out a wild cry in agony, the silence spell ending at once.

“Hold!” Mayas shouted. She leapt in between the writhing man and myself. “He bleeds! The match has been decided. The Starborn has won.” Duelist! 1,500 XP! appeared in my vision.

Klesius growled as he climbed to his feet. “Striking me with fire? You damned fool, I ought to kill you where you stand!”

“I figured there were temperatures not even you could control,” I replied, keeping my hands up and my scroll unfurled. “We can keep fighting, if you’d like.”

A fireball flew towards me but several energy spheres from the crowd zipped out in the blink of an eye, capturing the magic.

“You sore loser!” Mayas said, punching the man right in the gut. He wheezed and fell right over, vomiting a little in the process. “You dare try and strike the winner? Guards, seize him and take him to the pits if he wants to fight so badly.”

“Must I teach you another lesson?” the sorcerer screamed as he lashed out at Mayas, raising a torrent of flames straight from his shoulders onto her face. But she was prepared. The spell was absorbed instantly from her own magical recesses and she responded with full force, skewering the man with a magical spear from her own hand.

“Damn!” I yelled, stepping back as the man was impaled, disgustingly hot blood spraying everywhere in the process. “You killed him!”

“Oh no, he’s not dead yet,” Mayas cackled as she lowered her spear arm, pulling the man closer to her face. “He won’t be given that luxury for quite some time.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Mayas had seemed so normal up until this moment. Now I could see her for exactly who she was: a bloodthirsty sorcerer, an Imperial Cult member like any other. I best take my reward and leave.

Guards came and retrieved the flailing Klesius, prying him from the barb and dragging him into chains. I noticed there were specific arcane markings on the chain bracelets themselves, three command lines and an anchor rune. This was the formula for binding a sorcerer against his will. Interesting. Could I memorize it?

Mayas turned to face me as they dragged the wounded Klesius away. “Congratulations on your victory, Starborn. You persevered in the face of true danger. That is something few can say.”

“I’ll take my ink and be on my way,” I said. “I believe that was worth a crate or two, yes?”

“Pack up the camp,” Mayas called out to the group as she raised a hand to her face. A bit of magical energy streamed from her fingertips, green soothing beams that restored the injury back to its normal state. She flipped the eye patch up, revealing a perfectly functioning orb. “We’re at Napoleon’s disposal.”

Chapter 68

The Imperial Cult detachment had more than just orders to give ink to the first Starborn who came waltzing in. They were required to follow and join him in his endeavors. I did not like this one bit. Sure, it might be nice to have a detachment of thirty sorcerers, trained in the darkest of arts and fearless against monsters, let alone men, but they were also psychopaths. Murderers. Slavers.

The Cult of Brevan was not composed of good people. Not even close. I couldn’t dare work alongside them, not just for ethical reasons but for fear of what machinations they were planning. Why would they be so kind and giving to me, hmmm?

We had kicked the Brevanites out a long time ago and no one had fond memories of them. They were a cruel and evil group who devoured their own in order to get ahead. Letting them follow me was like walking alone in a dark alley with a jingling coinpurse. At some point, it was going to get ugly and I was going to be robbed.

“I’m afraid that while I appreciate your enthusiasm,” I told Mayas once we were back in her tent, alone and out of blast range from the other sorcerers. “I simply cannot bring your band with me. The Imperial Cult is banned in Elantio for a reason. Your people will not be welcome.”

“We shall set up a forward office in the Disturbic, no one would dare stop us from working there,” she countered. “We can fend for ourselves outside of cities. We’ve done so here for a long time.”

“It’s less about the logistics of hosting you and more about the fact that…I don’t want anything to do with your kind,” I confessed. “I mean no offense but I must watch my back at all times around you. No one needs that kind of stress in their life.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed. I was surprised at her sympathy here but she was genuine in her words. She sat back and pondered this. “I must admit that our orders stand regardless of your wishes. We will be following you, one way or another. Make no mistake, you are not important to us. I just have standing orders and will follow them to a T.”

“This is unacceptable,” I replied. “I am not going to have the Cult following me like a bunch of puppies, ink be damned.”

“What do you intend to do about it? There are thirty of us and one of you. You think Klesius really was the strongest?” she asked, rising from her seat. Both eyes stared at me intently. It seemed that her ferocity was hidden beneath that lackadaisical exterior. She was loyal to the party as any other member. I would do best to be careful.

“Nonsense,” I said, sitting down in a chair quickly to show I wasn’t challenging her. “I’m just trying to prevent a massacre. If there’s one thing the Elantio sorcerers do not like, it’s the Cult. They will hunt and excise you as quickly as possible.”

“Even in the light of a city being invaded?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

My heart stopped for a moment. I don’t know how long it took for it to start back up again but I felt like my chest was being squeezed from the inside. How did she know about the invasion? “Ma’am?” I weakly asked, feigning ignorance as poorly as possible.

“Oh, don’t give me that innocent look, I know for a fact that there’s an army marching from the Kaiberlands as we speak. Why do you think we were posted way over here? Our unit’s job is to wait for the right opportunity to intervene and then infiltrate the city. You, sir, are the right opportunity. And in exchange, you’ll get all the ink you want.”

The deal was somewhat tempting in a way. There were far more Cultists than I, they could carry dozens of crates to the Archive. But in exchange they’d be loosed on Elantio. And who knows what horrors they would visit upon the city? The dark experiments they would perform in secret…the cruel and evil brainwashing techniques they’d inflict upon innocent civilians…no, I wouldn’t be party to bringing these monsters into the city. Or anywhere closer. I’d have to figure something out here. And quick.

Well…when in doubt, go for playing rank against rank. “Who is your immediate superior?” I asked, crossing my arms. “For I will want to speak with them at once about this mess.”

Mayas snorted at that but realized I wasn’t kidding around. “You’re serious about that? I wouldn’t dare…I mean…you shouldn’t dare…”

That peaked my curiosity. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“The higher up over this particular job is a demon,” Mayas said. “A very enigmatic one. She seems to move through threads and plots with ease.”

“I thought the Cult didn’t worship demons.”

“We don’t but we employ them all the same,” she replied. “Thrinidax the Webspinner is a cruel creature…I wouldn’t dare approach her. But if you wish, she is up the side of the mountain, perched to watch Arithane’s death throes. She seems to take great delight in watching a god die. Let that be a clue as to her temperament.”

“And you will not stop me if I seek Thrinidax’s counsel on this matter?” I asked.

“Little fly,” the woman said, shaking her head at me. “You’re heading right into the spider’s web. Why would I stop you if you won’t take us to the city? There are other Starborn. The right one will come.”

I shivered at those words. Was I truly so replaceable? And what of the others of my kind? Did they have prophecies and destines as well? Who’s to say…who’s to say that I wasn’t the one prophesied about at all? It’s possible everyone just thought I’m the one but what if I was not? What did being the one even mean? I’d have to ask Shelley when I got back. If I got back that is…

Chapter 69

The mountainside was deathly silent. The great gray arm of the dying corpse of Arithane hung over one peak, dangling over what looked to be a river of blackness. Ink, or blood, was pouring down from the wounds on the dying god’s wrists, dripping from his fingers perpetually into the river.

Miners, men and women covered from head to toe in thick burlap clothing, were dropping buckets into the ink and pulling them out. Hundreds of them were lined up on the sides of the cliff, dipping the buckets in and pouring out that which didn’t contain magic. It seemed only a small portion of the blood actually had potential within it. The rest was just tossed back like waste off a ship.

I was on the other side of the gulch, making my way up the path towards Thrinidax’s lair. The demon lived in a cave overlooking Arithane, so that she could enjoy watching him die. The only time the Cult would interact with her was when trouble was brewing – or if she wanted a sacrifice.

Demons who accepted sacrifices of human or magical offerings were even stronger than some Principalities, it was said. The more sacrifice they received, the stronger they became, and since a demon could live infinitely, if they were able to get a population to provide it sacrifices, they would grow incredibly powerful. Such creatures were known as Tribute Demons, or Tridemon for short.

Tributes lead to triple the power. That was the old adage that ran through my head as I approached the ornately carved cavern.

The mouth of the cave was cut with stone chisels to look like eight spider legs, spread outwards in a menacing, capturing kind of look. Words in ancient Bristlewood script read Demon Within above the top of the cave.

Inside, I could hear the sound of skittering feet. A voice hummed out, singing a tune that sounded terribly familiar.

“Oh the fly flew into the parlor, little did he know, his life was forfeit already, there would be nothing left to show…” the voice purred. It was hauntingly familiar. Where had I heard that before?

Memories of something following me in the woods outside of Reinboldt came flashing back. There had been a demon stalking me and I had scared it off with a fireball spell. Was this the same one? Or did they just know the same song?

I uncorked two of my canisters, just in case. “I am entering on behalf of Mayas,” I said. “Do you recognize your truce with the Imperial Cult?”

“I do,” the demoness replied from within the cave. Her voice was breathy and airy. “But you are not the cult, little fly. I could gobble you up any moment.”

“That you could,” I said, “but I warn you, I have powerful magics and even more powerful allies. If you trouble me, I shall trouble you more.”

“Surely you haven’t come here to shout idle threats at me?” she replied. “Come in and let us speak. I would relish the chance to see you face to face for once, Napoleon.”

A shiver ran down my spine at those words. She knew exactly who I was. She had been the one following me so long ago. Why? What did she want?

I gathered what courage I could and marched into the demon’s cave, ready to face anything.

Darkness washed over me as I entered the bleak room. The area was supernaturally warm, despite the cold of the rest of the mountain. I walked forward a few feet until my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting within. Too late, I realized the lights weren’t lights at all but were the red lanterns of the spider-demon’s eyes.

I was standing face to face with a monstrous, nine foot tall spider, though its upper half was a woman, wearing black battle armor and adorning spikes on her pauldrons. Her flesh was pink and purple, splotched with yellow and green patches here and there. One arm of hers was sickly and weak, shriveled up so incredibly small while the other was a healthy human arm, sticking out just fine.

“So we come face to face,” the demon said, grinning at me. She had reflective eyes, just like a spider’s, and I could see dozens of reflections of my own weary face looking back at me. “After such a long time of waiting.”

“Perhaps for you,” I said, not making a move. I was terrified out of my mind for some reason. Was it an aura of fear she was wielding or was my common sense just functioning? This creature was a Tridemon, one who was well fed and nourished for who knows how many years. What was I doing just waltzing in to face off against her? I was out of my mind!

“You look pale,” the monster said as she stepped a few feet back from me, motioning towards a row of pews before an altar. “Sit, please.”

She scuttled up to the altar and took shelter behind it, lowering herself so that it appeared as if she were merely a human sitting at a golden desk. I sat on the third pew, far enough to have some time to react if she were to try anything.

“Who are you? And why were you following me outside Reinboldt?” I asked. Come on, Napoleon. Get it together. Don’t let the fear affect you…shit, my knees were shaking. This had to be an aura.

“I am Thrinidax the Spindler,” she said. “I’m a Lothian. One of the few demons who are able to traverse freely throughout the world. We travel through the webs of creation, the things that few are able to access. No one can chase us, yet we can always sneak up on them.”

“I see. That makes you a powerful agent,” I replied. “No doubt many factions wish to use your services.”

“The little fly is catching on!” she exclaimed with some excitement in her voice. There was slight sarcasm hinted here, however. “Yes, my powers are attractive to many and I receive sacrifices for my work. The greatest of my clients is Brevan, his people love me and I them. For a time, anyway.”

“I didn’t know demons could love,” I said.

The creature grinned. “Are you soliciting me, my dear? This frame is foul but there are sordid pleasures to be found within for sure.”

I shivered. “Perish the thought.”

“Oh well,” she humphed, baring her fanged teeth at me. “I should have loved to taste your flesh. Now then, Starborn, why are you here? What is it that you wish of me?”

“The Imperial Cult has machinations for the city of Elantio. You are aware?”

“Oh yes, I have been privy to every step in the invasion,” she said. “Not that anyone knows. I just skitter about between the Web and look at everyone’s mail. Their words. Their thoughts. And do you know what I have found?”

“What?” I asked, leaning forward.

“A tremendous opportunity,” the monstrous spider replied. “Feship wishes to make war against mankind to extinguish them. Well, I know that there are demons who wish Feship dead as well. And they do not range in the small number either, for he has done great wrong to those below him.”

“I see, so you hope there will be an opportunity to usurp him when the war is underway?”

The demoness shook her head. “Me? Never, I’m just a little spider. What would I do ruling everything? No, I represent other powers who wish to see Feship destroyed. It is on their behalf that I steer the Imperial Cult towards Elantio.”

“So you are the reason they are here?” I asked.

“Feship is a fool who believes in prophecies, despite the death of the gods,” Thrinidax explained. “He received a missive a few hundred years ago that has led him to make many choices. Eight months ago he received a new missive and he is making a series of stranger choices. The Demon King might be a powerful ruler but his subjects believe him to be senile. The more he indulges in chasing after the words of his supposed prophets, the more a fool he becomes.”

“The last prophecy was to kill me for the sake of invading the city,” I said.

“Oh yes, I’m well aware, fly,” she replied with a snicker. “And he grows more afraid by the day the longer you live. It seems your survival has sent him into a tizzy. Sanity is a limited resource in the mind of a demon and once something starts to gnaw away at them…well, they don’t get better.”

“Hmm,” I said, crossing my arms. This was interesting. Feship’s obsession with prophecy was seen as foolish to other demons. This war would bring about more than just the downfall of Elantio. It would bring about an entire civil war within the demonic sphere. And how many more millions of humans would die because of this? “So what will it take to dissuade you from forcing the Cult to follow me? For I cannot have them come to the city.”

“Why do you think it is your choice? There are other Starborn, little fly,” Thrinidax said as she rose up above the altar, extending herself so that she was nearly twenty feet above me. Her body had grown in both size and density in the transformation process. Mandibles pressed out from her mouth, snapping together as she laughed. “Do you truly think you can stand against me?”

“I roasted you once,” I warned, standing up and pulling out a fireball spell. “I don’t have any bones about doing it a second time.”

This caused the creature to cackle wildly. She lowered herself back down, prompting me to sit. “Come now, let us not cause each other pain. We could be on the same side, for the right price…”

There it was. She wanted something from me. This could be leverage indeed. “What is it you wish?” I asked, folding my hands together as I leaned over the edge of the pew in front of me. It was becoming clear that Thrinidax didn’t want to fight me. She was just flexing her power.

“I’m so very glad you asked…there is much to be done.”

Chapter 70

I sat across from the demoness, listening as she explained her trouble to me. “Lothians are skilled dimensional travelers and hunters, we never need to worry about mortals for sustenance. Normally, we could eke on an existence feasting on the creatures in between the folds of reality. But when the gods were destroyed, so were entire ecosystems of semi-divine parasites. Our entire race suddenly was plunged into a competition for food.

“It was a miserable and bloody affair. I emerged strong by necessity but not by desire. Every step since that day has been in unfamiliar land, in the shadow of greater and greater demons who manifest at all times. I was forced to find sacrifices from a cult in order to survive. One calf a week grants me strength beyond anything I had experienced before, even when scavenging. A human? Well, I did not ask for such a sacrifice but when given the taste? I fear it made me quite savage for a while.”

The spider demon paused for a moment to compose herself. I could see she was upset at herself for having lost her sense of control, both in the past and in the present. “Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, when I found the Imperial Cult, I had already learned of Arithane Ink. I sought to use them simply to move into this territory, to excise the mining company that existed prior. My hope was that I could use the ink to empower myself.”

“And did it give you what you sought?”

“I cannot access it,” she complained. “For there is a Graveyard Fiend resting atop the corpse of the dying giant. This nasty brute commands the entire region and slays any demon who dares show their face.” She motioned to her withered hand. “I did not get away unscathed the first time. And so I have simply been waiting here, biding my time and gathering power.”

“For what end?”

“For the same purpose as before. I want the ink. But I wish to drink it from the source, straight from the wound. The only way to do that is to see the Graveyard Fiend killed and that is where you come in. I’m playing games with the Imperial Cult, moving them about in order to secure greater and greater power, all for the purpose of overcoming that fiend. If you should be so clever enough to remove it from the area, I would be more than happy to order them to stay put.”

“Why do you want them in Elantio?” I asked.

“Greater spread of influence, more sacrifices, I suppose,” she said. “I haven’t thought it through too much.”

So there was the offer. Slay a demon for a demon’s sake. In exchange, I could take all the ink I wanted and I wouldn’t have to worry about the Imperial Cult following me. But what about this monster in front of me? Shouldn’t I worry about her growing more powerful as well? Then again…what was one more strong demon in this world? It wasn’t like things were ever going to be safe outside of the city.

Call it pragmatism or foolishness but I decided to accept the deal. I didn’t have the capacity to slip away from the Imperial Cult, nor was I inclined to try and fight thirty people by myself. Maybe if I had taken that Heavy Artillery spell I would stand a chance but those odds were insane in any other condition.

“Very well,” I said. “If you will be true to me in your word, I will slay the Graveyard Fiend.”

“A wise man,” she said.

“Will you answer me a question before I depart to prepare?” I asked.

The creature nodded. “I am holder of many secrets. Ask and I shall see if I can loosen my memories.”

“What is a Starborn, exactly?”

“Ahhh, an easy question. When the night was destroyed, the goddess Nixos who commanded the shadows and the stars cursed every bloodline that struck her. The Lancemans, the Kaibers and the Bowlass family respectively. Each would produce a mule if their child was born under the bad star ‘Megina.’ With the skies permanently hidden and the stars having sunk into the sea, the sorcerer kings assumed they were safe from the curse. But the planet still moves in some strange way. Not everything is fully broken. Megina, one of the remaining stars, passed twenty something years ago and so a handful of babes came out missing their magic. A shame.”

There were others like me? “How many?”

“I would not know without using magic to glean such a secret and I do not feel like doing so,” she said, motioning for me to leave with her good hand. “I am growing tired of your presence.”

“I’ve more questions about my kind,” I said.

“And I will answer them once you have slain the Graveyard Fiend. Otherwise, you are simply wasting my time.”

I was quick to depart from the demon as a foul mood suddenly overtook her. She snarled at me and snapped her teeth, prompting me to scurry out of the cave as quickly as possible. It seemed that she had her limits when it came to conversation. Or perhaps she was just messing with me to make me leave and stop asking questions. It was hard to tell with a demon.

I glanced up at the side of the mountain path leading closer to Arithane’s body. The monster was atop the dying god’s corpse. Standing atop his chest. I’d have to not only scale the mountain to fight the beast, I’d have to climb the god himself. What a strange mess I had gotten myself into!

But I couldn’t go straight into this fight, I needed to prepare. I had cast quite a few spells in the last few days and in that time, I had opportunities to improve them.

The Imperial Cult had plenty of space and ink for me to work with. Once I told them that I was working directly with Thrinidax, they all backed off. Even Mayas grew wary of me. It seemed that these famed god worshippers feared more than just Brevan. I wonder what he would think of such heresy?

Unfurling my scrolls, I began to make modifications to each spell, confidently working with intensity and speed that I had never felt before. I suppose my confidence was at an all-time high after defeating that demon back in the warehouse. Randrig was a powerful creature and slaying him had given me the feeling that perhaps I wasn’t so vulnerable to demons after all.

Uncontrollable Fire Column was the first to get the rework. The spell was great because it was, as the name suggests, uncontrollable both in volume and intensity. This was excellent for overpowering enemies with conventional defenses, for the spell was no friend to shields. The only trouble was that the spell was also extremely wild and difficult to focus. I had cast it as a last ditch effort, due to how easy it was, but other than that, I never used it. That needed to change.

The first thing to change was the uncontrolled nature. This required adding a few more words to the formula, making it far less easy to cast. A shame but I suppose that was the trade-off when it came to making improvements.

The duration of the spell could be as long as five minutes, independent of any focus. This was because of my Spellbinder feat. But five minutes for a stream was too long, I needed something more pointed. Thirty seconds would be better. A powerful stream of flames would wash forth from my hands, crashing over the enemy and holding itself for thirty seconds. That should be enough to cause some severe damage without limiting the rest of my casting abilities.

Second, I wanted to increase the damage. This was as easy as simply adding a few more words, words that amplified the power tenfold. This created the brand new spell, awarding me some XP in the process.

Fire Burst has been researched! You have gained 250 XP!

A nice little chunk but far from the remaining 1,800 I needed to level up. I had time to work on Frost Wave as well, improving its ability to freeze targets for longer. This triggered another spell gain.

Improved Frost Wave has been researched! You have gained 100 XP!

Less of an improvement than the first led to less XP. Interesting. I bet I could get quite a few points if I holed up in a workshop all month and just grinded out different formulas. That’s what the old wizards used to do in their towers, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the full luxury of time, as the army in the Kaiberlands could be anywhere. I needed to get this ink back to the Archive as quickly as possible. I improved one last set of spells: Conjure Skeleton and Goblin.

My summon spells were great – up until the moment they had been seized from me by the enemy. If I was going to be facing another demon, then I needed to be sure it couldn’t gain control of my own allies. If I had known the enemy would have the power to change my summons on me, I don’t think I ever would have taken these spells.

Fortunately, my frustrations were easy to work on the paper. A spell command word was added that turned the energy of these summons to ‘celestial’, making them harmonious beings that would be resistant to chaotic and demonic energies. A demon wouldn’t be able to enslave a celestial creature, right? In the old legends they were often weak and powerless against angels. Here was hoping.

Celestial Summons have been researched! You have gained 200 XP! appeared in my vision as I finished up my spells. The revised list was looking good and I was feeling confident. It was time to scale a god and fight a demon, just like I had always…wanted…to do.

Chapter 71

The winds grew harsher as I pulled myself up over the edge of the massive exposed rib. The giant god’s body was partially devoured, flesh and bone sticking out as the ravens and the other birds feasted on the carrier. They squawked at me as I staggered to my feet, shooing them off while I walked across the uneven landscape.

The giant corpse was so big that it felt like landscape. Before me was a vast grey valley, slowly breathing as the last shudders of life were leaving Arithane. The wind blew hard and I shivered from the sight of it all. This place felt like a desolate graveyard. No wonder a Graveyard Fiend would be here.

Perched atop the head of the great man was a grey beast not unlike a giant gargoyle. It wore an executioner’s hood atop its face, stones of green, red and blue serving as clamps to keep the hood shut. Upon its back was a massive sword, a claymore with a blade as wide as a barn. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration but not by much.

“Dead gods,” I said as I looked up at the hideous beast in the red light of the day. It stared at me with cruelty and contemptuousness, the beady red eyes behind the hood squinting as it comprehended my existence.

“Why have you come to this place?” the monster croaked, placing a hand to its neck. A sound came out from beneath the hand, as if there were a mouth on its palm.

“You have claimed this territory as your own,” I said. “Scaring off all other demons. That will not be the case any longer. I am evicting you, here and now.”

Laughter returned as the monster shook violently. “Surely, a little bug like yourself realizes that I will crush you? Go away, I do not desire the bones of a human to feast upon.”

An odd sentiment to find in a demon. “I fear I must insist you fight me,” I said. “For there is a price upon your head.”

“Then perish!” he snarled, and he leapt from Arithane’s groaning head towards me. The giant sword came out in a flash and struck towards the ground, forcing me to scatter out of the way.

As I ran, I drew out my summon Codex and quickly cast Summon Celestial Skeleton Warrior. Moving and casting was much easier with level five having been achieved and I was pleased to see the blue sparks surrounding the enemy as the skeleton appeared.

Much to my surprise, the summon looked different now. Its body was no longer covered in cancerous growths and tumors, rather it was a clean, pristine skeleton wearing a coat of arms, something from the heraldic age. He had wings as well.

“Have at thee!” the skeleton cried as he flew towards the demon, his own longsword held high. The great monster brought his blade down hard on the skeleton, smashing him to pieces in a matter of seconds.

Well that was as decent distraction, for it bought me enough time to cast Fireball. I lobbed a flame orb at the hulking monstrosity – up close it was nearly fifteen feel tall. A large target and easy to hit.

The flames crashed into the sides of the beast’s ragged body and it roared in pain. “Why have you come to bother me? What have I done to invoke your ire, mortal?” he asked as he seized at me through the flames. I dove out of the way just in time, scrambling to avoid his iron grasp.

My footing slipped and I found myself on the ground, sliding down one of the exposed ribs of Arithane. The demon was running alongside me in an instant, swinging his massive claymore at me. I shifted my weight down, increasing my sliding speed to avoid the huge blade as it smashed into the ground inches away from my skull. I slipped down onto a flat surface, a piece of jewelry the size of a city hanging off the side of the giant god’s body.

Stumbling to my feet, I drew out my scroll of Strike from the Heavens. It was hard to read while moving but I had no other choice, as the demon was rapidly gaining on me. Ink burst out in hot swells as he dragged his sword, causing the giant body to thrash in its death throes.

Barely getting the words out clearly, I cast the spell, watching as a huge cloud of silver energy grew in the sky. A crack of lightning burst forth from the heavens, striking the demon square in his back. He went flying from the body, but leathery and torn up wings burst from his back, allowing him to hover a few feet above me.

“Pazu rebuke thee!” I shouted, commanding the creature with great force as I drew out my next scroll, another Fireball.

The demon fell backwards in midair for a moment, repelled by the power of Pazu’s winds. This allowed me to lob the first fireball. The sphere struck my target true and his entire hood burst alight, consuming his grey head.

“Enough!” he shouted, dropping his sword and flying upwards over me. “See that I have surrendered. What do you wish of me?”

“Leave the area and do not return,” I said.

The demon scoffed. “You are going to need more than fire and thunder to get rid of me.”

This creature, the graveyard fiend, was powerful but reluctant to fight. Perhaps I could make some kind of deal to make him leave. Maybe he just needed the right incentive. “What will it take, pray tell?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he replied. “For it is a simple matter. At the foot of the giant are remains of the mortal who summoned me. I cannot return to my realm until those remains are buried.”

“That should not be troublesome,” I said.

“The remains are worshipped by a wild cult who believes it to be the way to restore their dying god,” the demon said.

“Are they inkdrinkers too?” I asked. Were these members of the Ginjari people? Lost persons of Enoja’s tribe?

“They are not, but they are talented magicians, with a stockpile of scrolls and wands that make them formidable. I would have slain them all a while ago if not for their command of magics,” the demon continued.

This caught my interest. A cult with access to magical scrolls? Did they know the secrets of ink or were they just holdouts from an ancient time? What if…dead gods, what if this was an original cult from the time before? An original cluster of people with a culture preserved and intact…it would be a living history site. Why would I need books when I could speak to any one of those people? What secrets could I uncover?

“Why do you shake?” the demon asked. “Are you so afraid of the scroll?”

“I’m more afraid they’ll all be long dead when I get there,” I replied. “Point the way, and I shall lay your bones to rest, friend.”

Chapter 72

The plot was thickening deeply, as was the darkness around me. ‘At the foot of Arithane’ might seem like a simple instruction but in reality it was several miles of journeying in rough mountain land. Thankfully I was able to summon my goblin to ride across the landscape, its agility well suited for the harsh crags and cliffs we had to navigate.

My nerves were great as we approached the foot of the dying god. The goblin bounded without regard for the long rocks that made traversal impossible for a normal human. I could see the outline of the secret hideout easily enough, one set of rocks had gaps in between that differentiated them from the rest.

“Stand by,” I ordered the goblin as I climbed off his back to investigate the rocks. The demon had told me they were hidden behind a great stone that needed a small amount of pressure in order to open up. But I didn’t want to just break in; doing so would cause the cult within to go on alarm. No doubt they were afraid of the outside world and for good reason. I had to be as forward as possible.

Was I going to try and bury the bones? Probably not. I couldn’t imagine that going well, but perhaps they might have access to stronger spells, allowing me to take the demon down in round two.

“Hello?” I called out. “I know I am a stranger but I am requesting entry into this establishment. Please, allow me asylum.”

There was no answer. I placed my hand upon the stone. “Listen. I possess great magical power. I can enter if I wish. But I respect your people and humbly ask that you simply meet with me. Please.”

More silence. I waited patiently, keeping my hand upon the stone, making no motion. Eventually a voice replied, still and calm.

“Leave us in peace, this is no place for outsiders,” the voice said.

“I come in peace,” I said. “And I am no outsider. I carry scrolls on my side and ink in my bag.”

“Scrolls?” the voice replied, muffled though excited. “How many?”

“As many as you need, I suppose,” I said, patting my satchel. “For I know the secrets to producing them as well.”

The great stone before me rumbled as it rolled open, revealing a small, skinny man. He was a gnome!

“Oh thank the Bones!” the man squeaked. He was about three feet tall, with a metal cap on his head and goggles on his eyes. “We’ve been waiting for a parchment guy for ages! Do you know how hard it is to make scrolls out of stone? Damn near impossible!”

“I’d assume they don’t roll up very well,” I agreed.

This caused the gnome to laugh. “Hah, that’s rich. Name’s Perlinus, you can call me Pearl. I’m the Prefect of this here colony.”

“Colony?” I asked. “I thought this was home to religious folk.”

“Used to be, some time ago, but humans need air and sunlight, things lacking in the colony,” Pearl explained, motioning for me to follow. “Our mining team found the poor suckers dead as a doorknob, right in the middle of their work. They must have suffocated rather slowly, so much so they wouldn’t have realized it. You know, when you run out of oxygen, the brain doesn’t just stop working. It stops comprehending. That’s why folks strip down naked when in the freezing cold.”

“That’s a bit morbid,” I commented as I followed him down the corridor. It was clear right away that this crypt was constructed for religious purposes. Every brick laid down in the hallway was part of a fresco, forming a religious icon of some forgotten god. A tall man sheathed in a cloak of ink, actually. Wait, was this Arithane?

I paused to examine the flooring a little more.

“There’s a better mural of him on the wall over here,” Pearl said, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me into the main corridor.

Hundreds of gnomes were present, lining up rows upon rows of tables. They were all busy reading and studying. The sound of hammer on chisel was omnipresent, filling the halls and echoing endlessly. The buzzing was almost maddening.

“Hey, knock it off, we’ve got fresh meat!” Pearl yelled, causing the entire hall to become silent. All eyes turned towards me. “He’s a parchment man, so be on your best behavior.”

A cheer went out of the crowd at the word ‘parchment.’ The entire hall erupted into applause until Pearl put a hand up to still them. “Easy, easy, you giddy bastards. The man hasn’t made his demands yet, so, like I said, be on your best behavior.”

Within seconds, I was pushed into a large cushioned chair, lifted high up onto one of the tables, an assortment of foods and drinks shoved at me on silver and gold platters. My boots were unlaced and a dozen tiny hands began massaging my feet – strange but not unwelcome, as my poor toes were near dead from the mountainous travels.

The foodstuffs were inedible and not due to any lack of culinary skill on the gnome’s part; the meal was quite literally rocks. The drinks too were sludge composed of blending two different stones together, forming a ‘stone smoothie’ as they called them. I couldn’t even drink it through the straw provided (not that I tried too hard).

Once the dust settled, I was able to pay more attention to the great mural on the wall. It was a painting of Arithane, a great god standing before the mountains, his cloak adorned of deep blue and black inks. Symbols were painted in white across the cloak, a white that seemed to glow compared to the rest of the colorwork. There were nine symbols…but strangely enough, I recognized one. It was…

“The fuck?” I gasped as my eyes fell across the symbol on the far left of the cloak. “That’s my birthmark!”

I clambered out of my chair and out of the grasp of my massaging gnomish servants, stumbling to examine the symbol closer. How? How could this be?

On my left bicep was a small birthmark, a bit of flesh different from all the other parts…something insignificant. A circle with two lines through the middle. Runic in a way, but not perfect. The lines weren’t sharp. They were dull and blunted like simple splotches of ink on canvas.

And yet, staring at me, upon the cloak of the great god Arithane was an identical pattern, down to the very last uneven edge…this could be no coincidence.

“You okay?” Pearl asked as he walked beside me, tugging on my robe.

“I don’t know,” I replied, baring my arm to him, pulling the sleeve up to reveal the symbol. “What in the ever-loving hell am I supposed to do with this?”

Pearl’s jaw dropped. “Woah…and they say there are no coincidences anymore.”

“This is not mere coincidence,” I muttered, pulling my sleeve back down and shuddering. “This is prophecy, this is fate. The gods somehow must have figured out how to get ahead of humanity. They must have prepared for…” My words trailed off for I had too many things to say and no way of saying them all at once.

Everything began to fall into place. Feship was a demon who was immortal, so he would have been around to hear the original prophecy. What if that had been his concern this whole time? Not something he gleaned but something foretold by the gods when they were still around? They must have put some kind of failsafe in place to ensure that if humanity were without the gods, something could bring them back. And I was that failsafe. Well, one of them anyway.

A Starborn…born under a bad star, though there were none in the sky that held any power. Somehow, in spite of everything, the gods had figured out a way to get one of their pieces to the other side of the board. I was one of those pieces. Maybe the only one that mattered.

No, what was I thinking? This was madness! I was no chosen one, no meaningful man who was set apart. That was the stuff of fiction and novels, things I had stopped reading when I grew up…oh who am I kidding? I never stopped reading such things. Never stopped yearning to be a protagonist of some kind. I just wish that I had realized what such an ordeal would actually entail. What it would require of me.

I suppose there was no getting around it now. I was special. At first, I was a mule, a man without power, but now it appears that such a thing was a blessing in disguise. For it taught me the true nature of the Lanceman family, and of sorcery as a whole. I may have been eager to receive all the rewards, the unearned power brought about by wielding such cruelty myself, but when I was on the other end of it…well, that taught me humility right quick.

And go figure, after I was made lowly before all, I was now made high once more. I had surpassed my old expectations, for the gods themselves had chosen me. Chosen me before I was even a gleam in my father’s cruel eyes. Dead gods…or were they? Could they be brought back? And if they could be restored, was that my purpose?

Chapter 73

The gnomes would do anything for a scrap of paper. Research assistance was one of such favors offered and I took them up on it. I had fifteen loose parchments to spare and these were valuable enough to the gnomes to gain their undying loyalty. Some even wanted me to marry into their families.

Gnomish folk were a mystery to me but I was finding myself at ease with them. They were kindly fellows who lacked the basic drive that caused most humans to kill: hunger. Gnomes could eat anything and they often did. They had no sense of gourmet for everything they ate tasted like heaven, so they claimed.

Without the need to fight and kill in order to gain sustenance, gnomes tended to be far more relaxed as a species. Not every group of gnomes was the same but those who lived away from bigger civilizations were the most trustworthy. They hadn’t gained a taste for gold and thus they weren’t corrupted by greed like other races, or so Pearl had proudly told me. I wasn’t so sure about this but I didn’t see a reason to argue the point.

I made myself at home within the great halls of the Arithinian Cult, taking up residence within the gnomish library that had been constructed.

These particular gnomes were archeologists, scholars and students of the past known as Reconstructionsmiths. They had stumbled across this religious human site a decade ago and had moved in for the purpose of archiving everything. It appeared that the gnomes were just as fascinated with human history as I was, and they had taken it upon themselves to simply preserve what had been found.

This meant that a great deal of work had already been done to index the dead cult’s body of knowledge. The gnomes had arrived with hundreds of leather bound journals to be filled and I had access to all of them. Ten years’ worth of archival knowledge, stored perfectly in big leather bound tomes. I almost cried upon seeing them.

“You must tell me,” I said as I sorted through the books, looking for information about the Starborn or the symbols on Arithane’s cloak. “What is the purpose of all this archiving? Do you serve some greater organization or governing body?”

Pearl, who was seated at the opposite end of the library, searching for something of his own interest, looked up at me. “We represent a smalltime human history collector, he’s quite wealthy but has no influence in Gnomedom, so he seeks his fortunes outside.”

“Gnomedom?”

“Er…what’s the word…kingdom but for gnomes?” he said.

“Oh, I understand,” I replied. “So your client collects human history?”

“Indeed. He is particularly fascinated with cults. The bounty he pays for information is more than enough to sustain our entire families back home. So Senter and Sons Adventuring Company goes out devil robbing and when they’re done clearing the dungeon out, my branch heads in to examine it. We found this place by sheer accident, however. But the boss’ orders stand, if you find a cult, index it,” Pearl explained. “The money that comes in is enough to keep us all afloat.”

“Afloat?” I repeated. “I was under the impression that gnome society doesn’t have scarcity.”

“We can eat anything we like, true, but we need magic in order to keep up with the greater races. And magic costs cash, especially when it’s growing increasingly rare thanks to the gods going kaput.”

“Greater Races?” I asked.

“Giants, dragons, humans, demons. The big guys made by all the gods together. We gnomes were made by a single god, the Helegon Wheel, and thus we don’t have the same power level as your kind. Hell, we can’t even reproduce as quickly as you humans do,” Pearl explained.

This was fascinating. “So you use the money to purchase magical wares and such?”

“Magical wares, metals, whatever we need to rebuild our homeland,” he muttered. “It’s still a mess, you know. After the Wheel fell from the heavens, we lost our central society. Fractures occurred in the political sphere and many of us became as the greater races, cruel and capricious. Those of us who remained were tasked with picking up the pieces. And that won’t be cheap.”

“Well, if you hitch your wagons to House Grayard,” I said, “I will see to it that your people are compensated for your assistance.” I was not speaking out of turn here, either.

Privately, the Colonel had confided in me that his money had become more of a burden than anything else. The old man only cared about practicing law and playing an earlier version of Getherno that almost no one liked. He had no family, no heirs and certainly no intentions of giving his money away to charity.

“I worked for the fortune, I’ll be damned if I don’t put it to actual use before I go to the grave,” he had confessed to me. “I have so much coin that it is genuinely a struggle to use it. So take as much as you can for the purpose of defending the city. This is my chance to become a legacy figure and maybe, just maybe, the world can forget I was a lawyer.”

“Come now, your profession is of the utmost importance!” I had said. “Without you, I’d have been killed by the government.”

“Yes, but I didn’t charge you, lad,” he had replied. “I charged every other rapscallion worth a coin in this city, one way or another. People love lawyers until you hand them the bill. This! This can be my legacy. A way to buy a good name. And I’ll spend every last coin I have to ensure The Colonel has full military honors when he’s buried, of that I am sure.”

The gnome looked up at me from his work station. “Are you for real? There’s coin to be had?” he asked.

“A veritable fortune,” I replied.

“It’s so strange how you are the answer to our prayers. Brigand Tom has been dying to get on the road again.”

“Brigand Tom?” I asked. “Is he a bandit?”

“No, no, worse. He’s a merchant,” the gnome said, scowling. “He’s taken to the art of trade and thus we consider him to be a brigand. It’s one thing to trade with those outside of the walls but he charges people within. Gold is all he cares about. So you can take him with you and he’ll represent our interests just fine in the human lands.”

“It sounds like you’ll be happy to see him gone,” I replied. “Is he truly that troublesome?”

“The man sells scarcity in a sea of plenty, I don’t pretend to understand it but I know he’s motivated purely by greed. So yeah, I’m not too thrilled to have him around,” Pearl explained. “We’ll be more than happy to see him gone.”

Harsh words but I suppose it wasn’t unearned. People always resented merchant folk when times got tough, not realizing that these men and women were often the only way to gain supplies since travel was so difficult overland. A good merchant could change the world…though a bad one could do the same, for much worse.

The prefect shuffled off to find Brigand Tom, leaving me alone in the archive to study. I had neglected to mention the bones of the Graveyard Fiend so far, as I didn’t want to cause a ruckus if they were interested in the magical artifact for some reason. But now that I was settling in, I would have an opportunity to find more information.

Thankfully the books were well organized with an index card system corresponding to the titles. I was able to quickly sort through four piles of thick journals, finding one lengthy tome that contained everything I was looking for.

…of the bones relic is that they were worshipped as a primary avenue for summoning something known as a Starborn. The Starborn can be found in Reference #23. The Cult of Arithane’s Demise primarily focused on ecstatic worship and consumption of magical inks, followed by wild paintings that portray potential futures. No paintings remain intact, unfortunately…

Flipping to the mentioned reference brought me to a bigger section.

The Starborn is a mythological attempt to reconstruct the days of old. The rituals performed have no magic within them, all power from this culture appeared to be enabled due to the inkwells that drip in the fountain room. They don’t seem to care that their rituals are only performative, however, for their great bodies of written work suggest they are devoted deeply to a plan known only as the Shadows of a Bad Star. We have tried to find anything beyond a mere mention of the plan but thus far have not been able to produce any. However, we are able to infer several things about this plan, this is speculation on my part, so please forgive me for the inaccuracies.

- There are multiple Starborn produced within a singular era;

- These individuals are supposedly fated to revive the dead gods;

- There is insistence that a prophecy was uttered, The Last Prophecy that foretold the exact details of what would unfold. Such information has been lost to time, however;

- Starborn are fated to eventually converge upon a central location, known as the Celestial Sphere. Where or what this is cannot be determined with the data we have;

- Convergence will lead to the resurrection of the gods and restoration to the good times;

- This has all the hallmarks of a cult simply reacting to the death of all they held dear. We have seen replications in other cults as well, heralding some kind of revival of the gods. However, none were as detailed as to include the Last Prophecy.

Journal Read! 500 XP Gained! More Starborn? So it was true I wasn’t the only one. And we were fated to revive the gods? That seemed a bit much. I closed the book and then my eyes, rubbing my temples. What kind of madness was this? And yet…it was right here in front of me, a book for no one’s sake! Or maybe the gods’ sake…if they could be revived, were they truly dead? Had we humans simply scattered them apart, same as demons? I suppose it was paradoxical to kill that which was immortal.

As I pondered these thoughts, the door to the study creaked open and a ghost-faced Pearl stuck his head in. “Uh…so…” he stammered. “The…bones…they just got up and demanded to speak to you.”

Chapter 74

No one escorted me down into the holy halls of Saint Lathimar. The man’s bones, which had been placed in a glass case in the middle of an ossuary, suddenly hopped up, saluted the nearest researcher and then casually asked to speak to the Starborn. The gnomes quickly filed out of the area and for good reason, the undead were troublesome. Whatever this thing wanted, it was powerful enough to get it with force, so the scholars were quick to produce a willing sacrifice to sate his demands: me.

I shuffled down the hall, up to the great room filled with the bones of many. This ossuary was built with the skulls and femurs embedded into the wall. Even the floors were made up of skull fragments, making travel a little difficult.

Standing in the center of the ossuary was a suspended ribcage along with two floating humeruses. A red, rust-looking substance covered the bones; I could not tell if it was adornment or the effects of the aging process.

“Starborn!” the voice called as I approached. It was the sturdy and strong voice of a man, one who sounded military. “It is good to see you, after all this time.”

“How do you know me?” I asked as I stopped in front of the floating corpse fragment. Time had decayed this thing for so long that it was a miracle it could stay together as it floated. Well, a miracle on top of the miracle.

“Many long strings were pulled, dear friend,” the spirit explained. “Strings that would tug only in the future. You are on the end of one such string. And you most certainly have felt the tug, have you not?”

“If by tug you mean an unending swarm of troubles, nuisances and murder attempts, then yes, I have felt it,” I growled. I was not this spirit’s ‘dear friend’. He wanted to use me, that much was clear. I was no one’s pawn. Not even the dead gods’.

“Destiny attracts demons,” he replied. “And few have greater destinies than Starborn. I am the Spirit Lathimar, a dedicated follower of Arithane.”

“Lathimar?” I repeated. This place was a funerary home to the dead saint from over thousands of years past. “Your spirit has remained here? How?”

“I bound myself to the bones once I was slain,” he explained. “As long as they are worshipped and cared for, I can keep the spiritual energy for myself. I have built a lifetime of sustenance, enough to survive eons if must be. But the time of waiting is over. You are finally here. The Last Prophecy was right.”

I felt a chill run down my spine as he spoke those words. “What is this prophecy?”

“I dare not say it,” he replied. “But just know that it is the last true thing uttered by the prophets before their demise. It has terrified demonkind for their entire existence. It is the last play by the gods, their desperate gambit to turn the tide of the war.

“For mankind was pulled into this conflict by the demonic, twisted and turned to the wicked ways in the hopes of finding their own freedom. What our people did not realize was that destruction of the gods would create a great vacuum of power—”

“A vacuum that the devils and demons immediately filled with their own existence,” I finished. “Yes, I’ve seen it firsthand. Our cities are safe but the rest of the continent is full of cruelty and dread. Only the mainland knows peace, they say. But even then, I wonder how idyllic that really is.”

“You will not find peace anywhere under the red sky,” he replied. “Only the Starborn can restore the old ways.”

“And how am I to do that, hmm?” I asked. “Because I’ve got an army marching down my city’s neck and that is my main concern.”

“Yes, good, then it begins,” the Saint muttered, mostly to himself. I could hear the deep relief in his breath – if bones could relax, I think I saw them do so. “Things are lining up.” He laughed a little. “You did it! You survived long enough to get to one of us!”

“Us?” I asked.

“Those Who Remain,” he replied. “The Venerated. We have taken worship for ourselves for the purpose of extending our lives long enough to support the Starborn. We gave up our rest for the excruciating in-between existence all for this moment. That one of you would stumble on one of us.”

“Excruciating?” I asked.

“There is nothing but pain and misery in these bones,” Lathimar said once more. “My existence is not heaven. This is not peace or bliss. It is miserable work, but it must be done to save not only the gods but also mankind. Restore the balance to all things and humanity has a future.”

“What am I to do?” I said, looking down at the ground. The entire weight of the world fell square between my shoulders and I felt the urge to plummet to earth. This entire adventure had been troublesome but bearable. Now though? Now as it was becoming clear that my existence wasn’t some cosmic joke but rather a setup for something far greater, I could hardly stand.

“Gather the chicks, mother hen,” he replied. “Raise them up and stand firm. Find the prophecy and fulfill it. These are not guarantees, the gods have no more power than what they have set up in this world. This must be done by your hands, lest mankind perish.”

“And if I fail?” I weakly asked.

“Then you shall fall into servitude of devils and demons for all existence. Our spirits do not fade, friend. When the last man closes his eyes, they shall come for our spirits, drawing us forth into a great pit where they shall nourish themselves on our suffering, day and night,” the spirit explained. “I have seen such things before. It is only the collective will of man that sustains our spirits from such torture. When our race dies out, our suffering eternal begins.”

“That’s a lot to lay on a bookworm with a penchant for magical ink!” I cried out. “Fuck me…what? Eternal torment? Why? Why does it have to be this way?”

“It doesn’t,” he said. “Or perhaps it didn’t. But mankind made their choices. We all suffer for them. Now it is up to you to make the choice to right the course once more.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” I bemoaned. “I am a man of morality and principle. I will not stand by and allow the demonic to overtake mankind…but why must this be so heavy? Is there no way to lessen the stakes?”

“Ah yes, allow me to ask the gods to ease the difficulty of this test before you,” Lathimar dryly replied. “Oh wait, they don’t seem to be answering any of my prayers for some reason.”

The sarcasm actually broke the tension, and I found myself snickering. “I thought Saints had to be all prim and proper.”

“I am saint by virtue of being too stubborn to lie down after dying,” he replied. “I am worth no veneration, truly. Speaking of which, I must provide you with your gifts. Each Venerated that you find will bestow tribute upon you, however they can. This is the last of our power before we move on to the spirit world, in the astral plane. There, some semblance of rest can be achieved.”

“I am honored by your aid,” I said, bowing to him.

“First, I grant you the simple protection from arrows that Arithane once gave to all of his followers. Accept it as a brand of ink upon your wrist,” he said, reaching a bone out towards me.

I raised my right wrist and gritted my teeth as the bone touched the center. Searing pain rushed through my entire limb as an imprint of a broken arrow appeared on the wrist, etching itself in blackish blue ink. The process took less than a second but was painful as hell.

“Arrows may not pierce your flesh as long as you keep your arm raised in faith,” Lathimar explained.

“Faith in what?”

“In your magic. In yourself,” he said. “You must believe these things to work in order for them to do so. And you must be pursuing your prophecy. If you fall out of favor of the Star that watches over you, then you shall lose access to these powers.”

“I don’t see that being a problem,” I said, rubbing my wrist.

“Good. Next, there is a small group of gnomes who have taken to following the dead cult’s practices in their heart. They venerate me even now. Gather them and tell them they are to follow you into the city, to serve as magical soldiers. They are educated in scrollwork and diction, they will aid you in defending the city.”

Relief surged through my system at hearing this. Trained in diction? This would improve our capacities to defend Elantio tenfold. Hell, this might be the thing to win the war entirely. Even one trained magician could make a difference to a high degree.

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered. “This is a great gift.”

“Tis a heavier burden that you now carry,” Lathimar said as his bones began to crumble. “My vigil is thankfully over now. Go forth, Starborn, and find the others. Fulfill the prophecy. And remember, if you are lost, seek out the Venerated, they shall guide…you…”

And with that, the bones became dust that swirled in the air before scattering. I hope that counted as a burial, otherwise I’d still have to deal with that Graveyard Fiend up there.

Chapter 75

My time with the Senter and Sons Survey Company had come to an end, but not without great reward. The gnomes who followed the Cult of St. Lathimar, and therefore worshipped Arithane, were easy to convince to my side. They had all privately confessed dreams of the Starborn and instructions for a magical battle to come, so they had studied their diction extra hard. I may be alone in this, but I was supported thoroughly. The gods had set up the plan ahead of time expertly, I just needed to figure out the rest.

With the Battle Division secured, I received a few books on Starborn prophecies as well as a great host of other volumes, all purchased on behalf of House Grayard. Such books were rare and would contain a great deal of magic for us to learn. I might even be able to find some proper spell theory instead of just having to make it all up as I go along.

Senter and Sons also gave me possession of their merchant, Brigand Tom. The sour man had a thousand yard stare to him, gazing out at nothing as if he were watching something at all times. He grunted in short sentences when approaching me and never spoke to any of his gnomish companions. The rest seemed to consider him to be a pariah, a traitor to the gnomish cause. I didn’t understand the people enough to make a judgment, so I treated the man as fairly as possible.

“War is coming,” I had told Tom. “And I don’t give a damn who you are or why they call you Brigand. You treat me with good faith in our dealings and I’ll give you all the respect and gold you deserve. Understood?”

“Any chance I can get twice the gold and zero respect?” he had asked, prompting a laugh from me. I said we would see.

Tom knew exactly how to get to Elantio and the best route, as well as how to hire the local muscle from the Imperial Cult to ensure no one bothered us on our way back. The gnome was handy with a map and a pencil, drawing a straight shot right back to the Archive. Our caravan would have everything necessary to defend the city from outright war. I just hope that we still had time to ready up.

The Graveyard Fiend was gone when I returned to the top of Arithane’s body. Waiting in his place was none other than the spider demon Thrinidax. She was engorged now, her body plump and bloated, each leg the size of a horse.

“You did well, little fly,” she said, wiping her dripping lips. “I have drunk deep of the wound’s freshest ink. The blood of the god sickens me in ways I could scarcely describe. It is depraved and disgusting.”

Despite her words, she did not sound demurred by the decision to drink. “Our business is concluded,” I said. “Will you allow us to take the ink and leave?”

The demon stared at me for a moment, her beady eyes sinking deep into mine. “Oh little Starborn, you are safe for now, take all that you like and all that you need. The camp will not follow you, for I have killed them all already.”

“You what?” I gasped.

“I slew them for they were insistent upon following you. It seems they have their own ends as well. I cannot tolerate mouthy pawns, so I feasted upon each and every one of them. Mayas was most terrified in the end. Would you like to see her last memories?”

I shuddered and stepped back. I had no love for the Cult but these were seasoned sorcerers, capable of putting out immense amounts of power at a moment’s notice. If this creature was strong enough to slay them all…what was I dealing with?

“I’m fine, thank you,” I said. “I will be on my way then.”

“Would you like to know the Last Prophecy?” she hissed as I turned my back to flee. I froze in place, the terror I felt subsumed by the curiosity to know what this damned prophecy was.

“You will speak it to me?” I asked, closing my eyes.

“No, I cannot. But I can tell you how to find it.”

“And the cost?”

“No cost, little fly,” she cooed, stepping right above me. I could feel her cold presence near my body, causing shivers to run down my entire system. “Go to the home where you were born and capture the first spider you see. When you open the jar, listen to what it says. Now…go.”

Chapter 76

Forty crates of ink was the total acquisition thanks to the spider demon’s capriciousness. The only survivors of the massacre were the mooks who had joined the caravan hours before the slaughter. The demon must have struck while I climbed Arithane. It was a horror to behold and we didn’t spend much time lingering, for the bodies were strewn about in terrible ways.

We returned to the Archive as quickly as possible, collecting Enoja on the way. Convincing the woman to wear clothes was impossible; she would not cover herself for any reason. This led to quite a bit of rowdiness from the gnomes scholars, who were not quite the gentlemen I thought they were. But I knew better than to be jealous or short with them, there were far more things on the line as opposed to my ego. Besides, Enoja was quick to box the ears of anyone who was too casual about her nudity.

Thankfully, the Archive was slightly more reserved towards her, and the building was large enough for the woman to find a place she was comfortable, away from the rest of the people. We gave her the upper west chambers, where the new Ginjari tribe would grow.

“It is a great incubator,” she had said, as she touched her own stomach. “Just as I am. We will be filled with life soon. Of that I am sure.”

That line stirred me greatly, not just with longing for her but with a desire to protect the walls around this place. I would fight through hell and heaven to keep this new family of mine safe.

And so I was forced to leave my love behind for a time, to focus on what information I had acquired and to protect the city. There was much to be done and no telling how much time we had, so I launched into action.

We had twelve gnomish scholars at our disposal, eight well-read mercenaries and fifteen bums, bards and students we had recruited from streets. This formed the Lettered Battalion, as Shelley called them. The Letters were educated in reading and writing, and more importantly, they knew their diction well enough to cast spells straight from the pages.

With 35 strong, the Battalion was more than capable of handling an offensive force – provided they had the right munitions and orders. These people didn’t know magic and we certainly didn’t have the resources to train them with live scrolls. There would be flubs, mishandles and accidents to account for, meaning we’d need to have some counter-agents in the group, able to cast curative and preventative spells to stop explosions in their track.

This was a job sorcerers could do, if I had any to work with. Neman’s efforts to alert the city had failed spectacularly. Not only was he not believed, but he was openly mocked. The idea of an invasion at this point in Elantio’s history was unheard of and there were many ‘failsafes’ in place to protect us. So we were told, but the Colonel privately confided that he believed the failsafes were simply teleportation spells meant to take the afflicted sorcerers straight to a safehouse – leaving the city to die.

This response was…predictable, to say the least. War was unheard of in the human lands for as long as I could remember – if not for the history books that I read constantly, I wouldn’t have a single thought of war in my head. We had a strange sort of peace in the continent of Usiren, a dull, muted peace that meant we were collectively safe but individually at risk. Now the inverse was true.

Neman was greatly incensed upon finding out that his brothers wouldn’t take him seriously. The Lanceman dynasty never particularly cared for what the pups had to say and this was no different. People within the clan only saw his rank and level, nothing more.

“I dare say,” he had confessed to me the night he returned from the courts. “We’re utterly screwed here. The complacency seems almost…tactical.”

“There was already one traitor in the midst,” I had agreed. “What’s to say the court isn’t filled with opportunists? This means we must win the fight before they reach the city, otherwise saboteurs may trigger devastating attacks on the inside, meant to open the walls.”

The Colonel agreed with this assumption and a plan was hatched to build a fortress in Redland Valley, the only clearing an enemy army would need to secure in order to lay siege. The land was far from the city but with a straight shot to the gates, meaning siege weaponry could be lined up and fired relentlessly.

Neman was more than pleased to use his newfound power level to raise the structure for us. Having a sorcerer on our side was quite useful for construction, and the man wasted no time in erecting a star-shaped citadel made out of briarwood and bramble. The walls were thicker than that of any castle, that he had guaranteed.

The sturdiness of this structure was tested a few times when random demons came bursting from the ether, trying to destroy the building with their raw power. Neman responded with fantastical spells that repelled them, but this drained his magical energies rather quickly.

Shelley was thankfully able to step in with a spell of her own, using the spirits to create a sanctuary field around the entire building, ensuring the demons couldn’t actually sense it. There were many, many dead within the open lands of Usiren and they were all eager to aid us in this task. No doubt there were a few Venerated within those ranks, urging the spirits to aid as best they could.

Fort Hubris was christened after the sheer arrogance of the Lanceman sorcerers. Elantio couldn’t see past their own nose, thinking themselves safe and sound from all trouble. It was only this little fortress that would protect them from their hubris and I wanted them to know.

Once the Fort was up and running, we moved our operations from the Archive to outside the walls. Many of our Letters were terrified of going out into open lands but they were calmed once a week passed without demonic attack. Training resumed and they grew more confident in their abilities and in this unit.

Aubergine and I settled into a routine of making scrolls from morning to night, ink staining our fingers so badly that I feared they were permanently tinted. There was no experience to be had in industrial development of spells, unfortunately; each scroll netted me a thimbles worth of XP, a fraction of a point. But the items were a reward unto themselves, as each scroll of Fireball would decimate an enemy squadron with ease. And we were writing hundreds of them!

The Arithane ink we had acquired was more than enough to furnish hundreds, if not thousands of copies. A single bottle could go a long way; this quality seemed much higher than the stuff I had acquired before. I suppose the slaughtered Imperial Cult couldn’t object to us taking the best of the best. These bottles would last a long while before they needed to be replaced, which gave us the ability to continue digging into the fortress.

Once we were able to see how many scrolls we were able to produce within an uninterrupted week, Aubergine and I agreed to begin allowing the students to live fire their scrolls. The enemy army was taking longer to get here than my fears had anticipated (thankfully) and it was becoming time to refine our troops.

Neman was more than happy to serve as the commander and trainer of the army. He was organized and a proper gentleman, having served some time in the military barracks as an officer. This came as a surprise to me, as he didn’t seem the military type, but apparently he had been given the position as a gift – the man didn’t have a day of actual garrison training. Someone wanted a Lanceman happy and so they gave a position of power to a complete scrub.

Fortunately, Neman wasn’t incompetent and had spent his time learning how to be a proper officer. This mostly translated to dressing the part and running endless drills, mostly forms and functions designed to look aesthetically pleasing. There was no real military application to sword formations, steps and coordinated flourishes except for the fact that it made everyone involved feel as part of a unit. And according to Neman, unity and uniformity was the key to winning a war. He didn’t appreciate my theory that the side with the bigger spellpower was almost always the winner, regardless of how united the enemy was. But I appreciated his decorum and it seemed to give the Lettered Battalion a sense of pride in themselves, so I let him dress them up and march them endlessly for hours.

Within a month, the Fortress was sitting strong, all six points on the walls occupied by siege wizards who could easily lob fireballs at enemies miles away. The parapets had fireproof crates of scrolls, ready to be cracked open at a moment’s notice. Within ten minutes of sounding an alarm, we could have the entire battalion, 35 wizard-students lining the walls and ready to set the sky ablaze with magic. Neman had timed it to ten minutes perfectly, pushing the Letters harder and harder with each passing week. But they were getting tougher, especially the gnomes.

Being surrounded by tallfolk, the gnomes were quickly looked at as ‘smaller and weaker’ by the rest of their allies, pushing them to double their efforts. If a merc could run a mile in 8 minutes, they would run them in 4. If a student could cast two spells in quick succession, the gnomes would figure out how to cast three. They pushed themselves to compete at the same level as the humans, leading to them gaining respect and mastery rather quickly. They surpassed their peers even faster and soon were the strongest of the group. This was good, for we would need every last ounce of strength if we were going to succeed against what Lucas brought back to me in his battle report…

Chapter 77

Lucas and his scout allies brought back more than just a map, they also brought us a sorcerer, bound and gagged. He had been caught stalking our camp as Lucas returned from his journey, and they were quick to run him down on horseback and seize him. The sorcerer had been taken off-guard by the horses trampling towards him and hadn’t a chance to cast the right spell before someone got him with an arrow.

After which, the man was muzzled, tied up and dragged back to the Fort, for interrogation. They seemed quite confident that he was on the enemy side and I prayed that they were right. I would hate to have to release an innocent sorcerer who was out on business…he would certainly seek revenge in the most violent of ways.

The Colonel decided to attend the interrogation with me, to ensure nothing went overboard. I had no intentions of anything unsavory, however. I figured if he were truly working for the demon lord Feship then he’d probably be interested in saving his own bacon more than anything. They only followed the demonic in order to gain more power and if their lives were in danger, they’d turn easily enough.

This was the profile that Aubergine had given me of the sorcerers and Grand Archivists who worked with Feship. Bribes would work better than threats. He would already know he was in trouble, the goal was to get him to cooperate in a way that was meaningful.

I chose to interrogate him in the cellblock, brambles and thorns keeping his arms and legs separate from each other, suspending him in midair. It didn’t look terribly comfortable.

The stranger was middle-aged, with a scraggly black beard and long, unkempt hair. He lacked the traditional prim and proper look of a sorcerer, and this wasn’t due to anything on Lucas’ part. They had not grown his hair out so poorly, nor had they mangled his teeth.

“So, you finally show your face,” the prisoner muttered as he struggled for a moment in his bonds.

“You know,” I said as I approached, walking slowly, “it’s unfortunate that you were attacked right as you were defecting.”

“What?” the man asked, snarling at me for a moment, unsure of what I had said.

“Surely, a lone sorcerer caught outside of my fortress wasn’t spying, such a charge would be ludicrous,” I continued. “I can only assume that you were here to deliver me vital information and my idiot guards accosted you needlessly. Or…was there some other reason you were here?”

Everything I said conveyed exactly what I wanted. The man slowly nodded as he realized his good fortune. “Frankly, the thought crossed my mind more than a few times,” he confessed. I could see him relax considerably, no longer fighting against his restraints. “Things are going a bit too far, in my opinion.”

“Do tell,” I said. “And I’ll see to it that you’re placed in better confinement until the end of this accursed battle.”

“Battle?” the man laughed. “It’s going to be a washout. They aren’t here to take the land as it stands, they want to destroy the walls and then the magical generator that keeps the demons out. And they’ve got the hardware to do it too.”

“How many siege engines?” I asked. “Catapults, wall breakers, battering rams…all of it.”

The sorcerer sighed heavily. “If only they were using such crude tools. No, they have found themselves a behemoth from the black pits, The Unsleeping Giant as they call him, for he walks day and night without end. With the right blast from a horn, he can be pushed to attack relentlessly.”

A behemoth? Such a monster was rare to see in this world, especially since the last behemoth was an incarnation of the Colossus God Illgamo. When he fell in the bright of day, every great being that once towered over the land and sea crashed into the earth, becoming landscape or carrion. Few great beasts remained; true behemoths were a myth, something that was only hinted at in many ancient books.

“Surely you must be exaggerating,” I said.

“I am not. Hence why I’m defecting,” he dryly replied. “It is one thing to lay siege to a city in war but to simply walk a great beast over the walls? It will smash many people to death and those who aren’t slain by the stomping shall be overtaken once the demons are free to loosen themselves upon the area.”

“Why are they attacking so violently? Do they wish to destroy everyone within?” I asked.

“That I do not know,” he replied. “Just that Feship wishes to do anything in order to win this battle.”

“Then I will do anything it takes to stop them,” I said. “Tell me where they are now.”

“The plan was to march into the Redland Valley as soon as our last ranks arrived, a detachment of Imperial Cultists who are extremely high level,” the prisoner explained. “Last I heard they finally arrived after weeks of waiting. They’re marching from the Kaiberlands and so it will be a month before they arrive.”

That was one more month of drilling and preparations. Enough time to intercept the behemoth on our own terms as well. There was no reason to wait for the fight to come to us if they were using something so powerful. We’d have to catch them out in the open.

The prisoner was brought to better accommodations as a thank you for his cooperation. The man was pleased to be treated by House Grayard with dignity and signed an agreement that he would be peaceful in his time here. Sorcerers were easy to bribe when deprived of the basic comforts like a bed for a few days. He gave us more information, freely now, and this was corroborated with Lucas’ report. We had a month advantage on the enemy – we needed to press it as best we could.

Chapter 78

The Kaiberlands were a huge region to the direct south of Elantio. Nearly three hundred miles away, they would need to rely on a human network of supplies in order to advance. From what Lucas said, the roadways were emptied out and the advancing army was making good time. They had to cross a mountainous region, which would take a minimum of two weeks for any sized army, giving us time to scramble for the forest ahead of them.

The Deadheart Woods were an inhospitable place due to the Mad Bramblers that wandered. Once peaceful ents, raised from the earth to tend and protect the trees, the Mad Bramblers grew violent and wicked once mankind had killed Estavil, their goddess. Now ents were wild spirits, cruel and eager to repay vengeance upon those who had turned against the natural order.

Passing through the Deadheart would be the only way for Feship’s Army to reach the flatlands. Going around would take considerably more time, so it was best to assume that they would cut straight through the forest. And if they had the behemoth on their side, no ent would stand in their way.

But perhaps we could get ahead of them if we were to set up an ambush for the behemoth within the Deadheart itself. Doing so would be difficult and would require the cooperation of the ents.

Brigand Tom turned out to be the perfect answer for this problem. The little gnome didn’t say much but was always quick to assist whenever asked. He was smart, business savvy and… important for this mission, he wasn’t a human. The ents wouldn’t hate him automatically; he’d have to do something in order to earn their ire.

I dispatched the gnome to negotiate an alliance with the treefolk. They were twisted and capricious but not without intelligence. No doubt they would understand the terror that a behemoth would bring to their land. And if the army couldn’t camp in the valley due to the presence of our fortress, they’d take shelter in the woods, making the ents even angrier.

The little man held to these talking points quite well and managed to make an agreement with Oakwine, the leader of the treefolk coalition. In exchange for planting a forest where the valley rests, full of more ents to grow, they would allow the Grayard banner to move unmolested within the woods. The city would be furious to lose their one tactical area outside of the walls but they weren’t taking our warnings seriously. So I made the agreement without a second thought. What was one more dangerous patch of land in a place of terror already?

Oakwine was especially incensed about the presence of a behemoth. He would do anything to see it destroyed and pledged to give a hundred ents to the cause. Part of this anger came from an ancient grudge between the Behemoth Whisperers of old – ents were long-lived creatures, able to remember millennia past – and thus they were easier to convince to join our side in the martial struggle.

Great treemen walked the woods of the Deadheart, fashioning great clubs and swords from wooden trees. Some weapons were even made of living entwood, capable of changing the momentum and speed of themselves with a mere focus of magic. They trained hard and listened to Neman’s directions, despite the fact that he was a human. Ents seemed to lack individual will; when their leader made an order, all of them fell into line. They never spoke back, not even once.

A detachment of the Lettered Battalion would be placed within the woods as well, outfitted with Plant Burst magics, allowing them to take advantage of the flora. These were the mercenaries, the ones who didn’t object to the harsher conditions of living off the land – and more specifically didn’t mind being the frontrunners against an entire army. The gnomish folk had too much pride to allow themselves to be mulched in the frontlines. The mercs? Not so much. Clicking two coins together seemed to be more than enough to motivate them to hold the line.

This was good because on a crisp fall morning, there came a horn in the distance.

Neman and I were busy raising up defenses within the central base of the woods; the goal was to build another outpost, though one less enclosed, which would allow men to move about for cover during the conflict. It was almost mazelike, though far from done.

“The hell is that?” Neman shouted as the horn blared a second time. I could see sweat begin to pour down his head as he realized what it was before I could even say the words.

“They’re here…and ahead of schedule by about two weeks,” I said. “They must have used magic to cross the mountain.”

“Men, to arms! Lettered Battalion, fall into position!” Neman bellowed, letting his war voice ring out in the woods. “Great Entfolk, the enemy is upon us. Give them no quarter, rend every last man to pieces. None shall be allowed to leave this forest!”

The entire woods bristled for a moment in perfect unison, confirming the order. I swallowed at the ruthlessness of such a command but I had given Neman charge for a reason – he understood the stakes. If we could deter the enemy from pushing any further, then there would be no civilian casualties. The Deadheart would contain only the bodies of men and women who died with their boots on. It was going to be a massacre, on one side or the other.

My sorcerer brother waved a hand beneath us and immediately we were spiraling upwards into the sky, hands of stone gripping my ankles to keep me from falling. We burst above the treeline just in time to see, from the mountains, the flags of House Kaiber as well as an unfamiliar flag, a Serpent devouring the world. Probably Feship’s viewsake.

Neman handed me a spyglass as he drew one of his own out of his vest pocket. “Let’s see what we’re…working… with…”

He trailed off as I stared through the peerglass, realizing something. They weren’t emerging from the mountains. One of the mountains was moving with them! It was the Behemoth! Upon its back were huge mountain ranges. It had four thick and long limbs, with a protective shell around its frame.

“I say, they found a turtle demon,” Neman muttered.

“Not a demon,” I said, gazing at the great landmass monster’s face. The beast’s face was flat and fleshy, but looked to be natural. “A Behemoth, and a true one.”

“I thought they were all dead.”

“So did I,” I replied, watching as the creature moved towards us, each step bypassing tracts of land with ease. It was faster than the army it was accompanying.

“Maybe it’s just a summon or something, an illusion?” Neman hoped aloud, looking back through his spyglass. “A very convincing illusion?”

“No,” I replied. “They wouldn’t be bringing such a large force if they weren’t certain they had something to knock the walls down. And I don’t see any siege weaponry, nor lumber. They wouldn’t dare try and take from demon infested lands, so I’m guessing this is their only way to lay siege to the city.”

“So if we kill the Behemoth, we kill their chances at laying siege?” Neman clarified.

“Yes, but that is much easier said than done.”

“You’re telling me,” the sorcerer said. “I am no coward, sir, but I think I am tendering my resignation.”

“What?” I laughed, turning to see that the man was dead serious. “Neman, you can’t be serious.”

“I signed up to fight an army, not a force of nature!” he protested. “I’ll be much better off with my brothers in the city. I’m not a mule.”

I grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him close. “You absolute coward! Neman, we died together, remember? Do you really think we’re going to meet our end at the fate of some big cow with a few mountains stapled to its back? Now come on, this is the moment our kind has always been waiting for! You might not be a mule, but you’re still a runt compared to the rest. Do you remember how seriously they took you when you brought news of this war to them?”

Neman frowned at the memory. “They laughed.”

“And indeed, they will never stop laughing when they hear how you fled this battle. You were appointed Sergeant over the spellcasters for a reason, and now you want to spit on it?”

“Sir, with all due respect, how in the hell are we going to kill that thing? It will just step on the forest and all resistance will be over,” he squeaked.

“That’s for us to figure out, the Dead Brothers, right?”

“I fear I don’t have the same courage that you do,” he confessed. “I just know how to make the men run drills and look good while doing it.”

“And if you fucking run, what is that going to do to their morale?” I growled. “Those men and women will break well before the enemy arrives and they’ll perish. But if they are united and strong? They can defeat this enemy, I know it.”

Neman sighed deeply and relented. “I should hope this episode won’t be mentioned in the history books.”

“Not the abridged ones,” I said, patting him on the back. “Can I trust you will stay?”

“I will not sink with the ship but I’ll stick around for the first few assaults,” he said. “If it starts going terribly south, I have the right to preserve my own life.”

“Fair enough,” I said, looking at the great beast once more. His reaction to such a monster wasn’t entirely unwarranted. One look at that thing made me want to pack up for good too.

Chapter 79

There was only one solution to fighting a creature of that size: flight. Our forces needed mobility, speed and the ability to scale heights in a matter of seconds. There were many ways to gain flight in Usiren, it was just a matter of how one wanted to pay.

Sorcerers often made their fortunes providing flights across town to thrill seekers and fly spells were used by messengers to reach vertical destinations in moments instead of hours. Rings of feather falling and levitation were sold to tourists by the hundreds and they often worked quite well. But we didn’t want magical flight, considering the enemy would be employing sorcerers.

Rather, avian flight made more sense. The Colonel was able to reach out to one of his old contacts, a Gryphon Stablemaster, and with some palms greased, secured a squadron of Clutch Bombers.

Gryphon Clutch Bombers were specially trained beasts that carried payloads, be it alchemical explosives, spell spheres that activated when hitting the ground or even live monsters that unfurled into combat. These magnificent Gryphons were bright white, with brown speckles matting their feathers. Each one weighed 5,000 pounds and was capable of carrying an elephant without slowing down. They were fast, agile and incredibly hearty creatures. Best of all, they were given warmind training by the military, granting them a kind of battle insight that allowed them to serve independently.

The Clutch Bomber squadron, 8 in total, was happy to allow riders and so we hired a band of retired pilots who were looking for work to take up the mantle once more. These middle-aged riders hadn’t forgotten the tricks of flight and were quick to bond with their Gryphons. The Thornback Riders, named after the famed brigand Thomas Thornback who once held up an entire army by himself, were eager to fly, though they needed to be outfitted with weapons.

Here, the Colonel’s efforts turned towards darker alleys. We needed firepower if we were going to be able to destroy or scare off a Behemoth, and that meant access to powerful weapons: spell spheres.

Warfare had long ago fallen out of style, in part due to the destructive power of magic. Sorcerers learned quickly that destruction was an easier force to wield than creation – compare the time it takes to make a good painting versus the time it takes to destroy one. Removing flesh, dirt and bone was far easier than putting it all together in a meaningful way.

In the early days of sorcerous warfare, when man was still scrambling to cope with individuals pouring out tons of magical energy by themselves, city walls had meant something. Then a few sorcerers banded together to form a sphere made up of five collective spells of destruction. A thin film of physical magic was wrapped around the sphere, allowing it to be launched out of any material item – such as a catapult.

Boulders put dents into walls. Spell spheres? They removed them and the population manning them. Warfare turned ugly rather quickly after that, with the spheres quickly becoming known by all sorcerers. Eventually the stakes grew too high and they stopped bombing each other to hell, seeking peace instead of fighting over scraps of rubble.

This wasn’t to say those spheres weren’t still on the market. Sorcerers were up to all sorts of diabolical schemes and occasionally these combined weapons would make their way to the back alleys, often to serve as historical objects or prizes to hold in case things went poorly. The official law was to ban those menaces, of course, and it was rather risky to be caught holding onto such a weapon, so they were often hidden and hard to find.

The Colonel, having served as the legal advisor to one such doomsday weapon smith, knew exactly who to call upon for assistance. No money needed to pass hands here, for the Colonel had given his services away for free, knowing that he would need the favor someday. The man’s gratitude was more than enough to get us access to half a dozen spellspheres, each capable of leveling half a city block on their own.

The access to the weapons was cheap but the cost of the hardware was quite staggering. Secret weapons of mass destruction did not come without considerable costs. These were far outside of the Colonel’s price point, for the man did not have unlimited money.

Neman, on the other hand, did. Well, sort of. As a sorcerer, the man had impeccable credit, especially since he hailed from the ruling family. No one would look twice at him if he walked into any bank in the city and demanded a high loan with no interest. Everyone knew the interest was his family’s favor and that was worth more than the coin that passed hands. He was able to borrow a sizable sum in order for us to purchase things that would be destroyed in the process of using. No one would dare come to collect on a defaulted loan from a Lanceman. That would be akin to suicide.

In normal circumstances I would frown at the idea of exploiting the financial system but this was an emergency. We had to use every last resource at our disposal if we were going to be able to take down this behemoth. And if that meant taking a few bad faith loans, so be it. At least the loan officers were going to have a building to complain in.

We were able to move quickly enough to organize our forces before the enemy army arrived at the base of the woods.

I sat on the back of an enormous gryphon, hovering above the entire forest. The dread behemoth stared at me with dull, black eyes, its flat face devoid of all expression. Necromancy! This thing wasn’t alive at all! From a distance it was impossible to tell, but being this close, I could see that this creature’s flesh was bound together, knitted from magics.

“Sir!” Neman shouted from his own gryphon. “Do you see it?”

“They’ve just raised a giant puppet,” I replied. “Cut the strings and the whole thing will topple.”

The pilot, Manfred, looked at me and nodded. “Permission to intercept?”

“Do what you need to do, pilot,” I said, readying my magical containers. “Your spellcasters will back you up.”

The seven other gryphons around me fell into formation, following after Manfred and I through the skies. The wind blew hard against us as we cut forward, fighting against the tides of air. Clutched in between the feet of each beast was a spellbomb, capable of delivering incredible devastation of different elemental types. We had accounted for every kind of resistance possible, splitting our weapons into fire, acid, air, water and so on. We had eight spheres, enough to annihilate the enemy army outright – if they were the target. Unfortunately, we had a much bigger fish to fry.

“Enemies below,” Manfred shouted. “You’re up, magician!”

Our gryphon began to take evasive action as enemy sorcerers who were standing atop the great beast began to fire at us. Beams of red and green energy streaked through the sky, explosions of black and yellow nearly blinding me.

Drawing out my Scroll of Spheres of Energy (another circular spell!), I quickly cast it, expertly snapping off the words. Immediately, a swarm of magical silver balls flew around us, but only for a second. They zipped off to strike the attacks as they came towards our gryphon, blocking four shots as I cast the next incantation. I had a dozen of these, we could keep this defense going all afternoon.

Neman, too, was intercepting, though he was far swifter at it than I. He had no need to switch between scrolls and thus could strike spells as they came up with the mere flick of his finger. I felt a bit of envy here, but knew that my methods had created six more students who were all doing as I. Neman was only one but there were six of me, each on the back of a Gryphon and using scrolls to defend their bombers.

We began to descend on our first dive. I threw a power shield around us, taking advantage of the free five minutes of concentration time. Fireballs and crossbow bolts bounced off us as I held the red bubbled shield around us.

“There’s a spot!” Manfred shouted. “Kee-yahap!”

The high pitched cry caused the gryphon to barrel roll to the right, darting down in between one of the mountains.

A series of sorcerers were gathered around a large black well, pouring their energy straight into it. Binding magic snaked out into tendrils from the well, stitching and holding the lifeless behemoth together as it lurched forward.

I wanted to shout that this was the perfect target but Manfred was already ahead of me. Our gryphon zipped across the landscape at lightning speed, dropping the spellsphere through our shield bubble into the black well.

The explosion almost encompassed us as we flew upwards, barely able to escape the blast. I could hear multiple explosions of different types rocking the air and the sky, sending shockwaves everywhere. I kept my shield up as best I could but even the free concentration couldn’t protect me from the overwhelming concussive blasts coming from all directions.

My shield shattered as we spiraled into the woods, crashing hard. Manfred was thrown from the gryphon and into a tree, his entire body cracking horribly in the process. I was luckier, I fell off the side into a pit of mud, which softened my fall considerably.

“Manfred, do you live?” I asked as I scrambled to get up. The gryphon climbed up from its fall and stretched, no worse for wear. It shook itself and walked up to the fallen man.

“I’m alive,” he gasped. “But I don’t think we can say the same about our behemoth friend.”

I helped him to his feet and we turned to look outside of the woods. Crashing into the ground was the behemoth, its entire body falling to pieces. Mountain chunks fell off, vanishing into the ether. It wasn’t a true behemoth at all…just a fabrication that was hearty. And we had done enough damage to annihilate it.

“Hitting those sorcerers disrupted their power,” Manfred said as he climbed atop his gryphon. “If you have more of those weapons, we can go clean them up.”

“Afraid that’s all,” I said. “But there’s no reason not to throw some fireballs down at them.”

“I won’t fly out on a harassment job,” the man said. “We’ll be gunned down fast. The only reason we won that engagement was they weren’t expecting to be caught by an enemy force out in the open like that. We were relying on the element of surprise and it’s gone. They’re at full alert now. If you think the fighting is over, then you’ve not seen a real battle. These fuckers are going to be in these woods in a matter of hours, I hope you’re prepared to defend every last inch of ground.”

Chapter 80

Manfred was right. The enemy was brutally shocked by the attack but the collateral damage had been little. The sorcerers atop the construct were killed and no doubt those losses would be felt but we had fired all of our major weapons at the beast. The hope was that it would crash into the army and kill them with its body but once the magic had dispersed so did the rest of the corpse.

Now, we were facing an extremely angry enemy over 200,000 strong. The order was given and the first charge went underway. Scrambling and confused, fourteen units descended on the woods, ordered to clear and hold the position.

I had never seen so many people gathered together for a singular purpose before. Sure, military parades were one thing but this was beyond that. This was a mass of human flesh, walls of steel and iron crashing towards the Deadheart without rhyme or reason. They were scattered and confused, frustrated at the surprise attack. They were supposed to be the ones with the element of surprise and it was clear they were unprepared for any kind of serious conflict coming their way. This was just a reaction, a sending of the dregs to determine what they were facing.

Our gryphons retreated to the central base, where the few magicians of the Lettered Battalion were still waiting. Of the eight who attacked, six came back – not bad considering how much firepower we had gone up against. But there was no time to tally the dead, for the enemy was converging through the woods, making their way to our base.

The ents waited. They remained perfectly still, waiting for the enemy forces to completely enter the woods before emerging from their dormant positions. This took some time, as the units were composed primarily of a thousand strong each.

The entering enemies were sword and board warriors, and wielded longswords and shields. They would pack together tightly, keeping their shields raised high as they moved in formation. Magical threads of energy moved through the air, uniting all of the soldiers’ minds together. A warweave, as they were called.

Warweaves were powerful methods of improving the conduct of soldiers. Rather than enchanting any physical ability, the warweave’s magical potential lay within synchronizing actions and speeding up reaction times. Soldiers attached to the weave would become exceptional fighting machines, empty of all fear and capable of responding to events within seconds of them happening.

The weave was lashing out to the minds of every soldier within the woods, linking them together in perfect harmony. Fourteen thousand connected fighters against six hundred mercenaries, a hundred ents and a handful of spellcasters. This was going to be one hell of a gauntlet. But we may have already won the war; without a siege weapon they would be useless against the city. This would frustrate their plans considerably.

I considered calling the retreat but doing so would be only for those who could get close to the gryphons. The forest was full of hostiles and it would be impossible to flee without being caught. The only thing to do was hold off the hordes with our magic.

The enemy made tremendous headway into the woods for the first three hours of the engagement. Mercenary forces in the trees slowed them down at the halfway point but the fighters were instructed to stay light on their feet – they needed to stay on the move to avoid being caught. This gave the impression that we had more numbers than we actually did, leading to a concentrated force moving through the western part of the wood – right towards our base.

It was in the third hour that the ents finally struck.

In an instant, the tide of battle turned into an absolute frenzy as the forest became alive. Trees seized warrior with ease, lifting them into the air and impaling them on their own branches, collecting screaming bodies as they traversed the field, swiping hands through enemy forces.

If things had been chaotic when the enemy arrived, what followed after the ents took their position was sheer pandemonium. The woods were alive and murderous, everywhere I looked there were men fighting against beast, demon or mercenary. Fiendish beings were beginning to arrive, attracted to all the fresh meat and they were certainly targeting the weaker humans.

Our small forces were devastatingly effective with the assistance of the ents. Spell and sword broke into the melee, turning the battle on its heels for a few hours – but even our superior strength couldn’t stop the sheer swarm of humans coming our way. Even the ents were growing tired as the bodies threw themselves one after another.

That was the other problem with the warweave – it sapped those who were linked of their free will, forcing them to engage in brutal warfare against their own interest. A warweaved soldier could lose a hand and keep fighting without even realizing it.

This constant pressure was too much. Our numbers broke and shortly thereafter, a great flame engulfed the entire Deadheart. The sorcerers had finally entered the battle and were enacting a scorched earth policy. They were determined to win the battle at any cost. I was not.

I called the retreat as soon as I realized the smoke was coming from one end of the forest. The ents could not flee, nor would they – this was their home and they would fight for it. More of them were awakening as the flames spread but I didn’t have high hopes for them. Ents weren’t demons and a sorcerer knew how to take one of those down with ease. I tried to tell Oakwine to flee but he would not listen.

Within a matter of hours, the entire forest was on fire and all life within extinguished. A great many soldiers lay dead but even more were on their way straight to our fortress. We had barely dented their forces…they might still be able to lay siege to Elantio yet.

Chapter 81

Fort Hubris was living up to its namesake, as I was sorely regretting my desires to ever put together a defense for the city. Our gryphons flew back to the fortress safe and sound, taking refuge in the thick walls of the great bramble fort. Most of the Lettered Battalion had survived, but the mercenaries had most certainly been slaughtered.

We had succeeded in our main goal: we had destroyed the siege engine of the enemy. But it appeared that they were confident in more than just their weaponry. They regrouped, reformed their units on the rubble of the Deadheart and began building their camps.

The sky was turning redder as time passed. What few wounded we brought back were patched up and returned to the ranks. We had 33 wizards to deploy and 2,000 soldiers within the garrison. The warriors were not necessary for the battles, however. Their job was just to secure the perimeter and make sure no enemies got in or set the place on fire. The wizards would be doing all of the heavy lifting. They had the scrolls to give them the firepower.

Two days passed before the enemy camp readied for the first assault. Ten ranks of soldiers, each a thousand man strong, lined up in a wide formation a few miles before our tower. Banners were raised and they began to march in traditional formation.

“Vaporize them,” I ordered as I peered through my spyglass.

“Fire the first wave!” our artillery captain, Fenni, shouted, raising her scimitar high in the air. The sound of pop! filled the air as 33 scroll canisters opened in perfect unison. They had drilled hundreds of times for this; the targets were the only thing different.

My students drew out their scrolls and began to read the perfectly crafted formula. Six words, all incredibly easy to pronounce. Six words repeated over and over and over until perfection had been achieved. Now, their words caught fire in midair as 33 fireballs came crashing from our tower.

Shields rose up to block the attacks but the sheer number of fireballs pouring from the air was insane – our gnomish allies had already read off two more spells in the time it took for the human students to switch to the next line.

Explosions rocked the grounds as the advancing soldiers were thrown into chaos. They had been so confident they could live counter the attacks, they hadn’t formed a regrouping plan. For every three fireballs that were blocked, a fourth got in and that was all it took. A ripple of explosions slew ten thousand men within a matter of seconds.

“Ready counter-offensive!” I yelled.

The captain bellowed out. “Switch to Energy Spheres, spread out, two by two, hold…hold…break!”

The group fractured perfectly into groups of two, scattering themselves throughout the walls. They raised their intercepting spheres high into the air and just in time too. A few dozen energy bolts came crashing towards us from high above – fired like artillery. Our spheres fired upwards with ease, intercepting each shot with dissipating magical energies.

“We have them on numbers,” I said, looking up as I counted the attacks. Six energy bolts fired at the same time...and then another wave. Exactly six. “They only have six sorcerers.”

Neman nodded. “I’d wager we’re about to see another war weave.”

“Why do you reckon that?” I asked.

“We’re hitting them hard, they’ll want their forces to break formation and just charge. A lot of men will die but the sheer numbers are in their favor. They’ll be able to overpower the fortress,” Neman said.

“Letters,” I shouted. “Ready to raise walls one after another in front of the enemy.”

The unpopping of canisters replied to my commands as the artillery captain repeated my orders from her position.

Just as Neman had predicted, a huge swathe of soldiers appeared. It was impossible to count all the heads quickly as they moved towards us but I could guess it was around fifty thousand. A brown weave of energy was spiraling through the air, uniting all minds as they charged.

“Split them up!” I yelled, uncorking my own canister and taking out a dedicated scroll of Raise Wall. Casting the spell, I watched as walls broke out of the ground, raising twenty feet high. This caused the charges to become staggered and confused. The men were mindless and struggled to climb over the walls, instead simply running forward like idiots.

“Cut them down!” I shouted once the enemies were separated. More fireball spells rained from the sky, crashing into each segmented area, like dropping oil in a waffle iron. The soldiers were annihilated instantly from the heat – it didn’t matter how many there were, they simply did not have magical defenses to protect themselves. Not compared to what we were able to produce.

The offensive finally broke off. The enemy retreated as the weave flickered and faded. They moved outside of our fireball range. A loss-heavy battle lasting only a few actual seconds after hours of marching. They were not going to be able to keep fighting like this much longer. We had reduced a significant number of their forces and without taking a single loss of our own.

“What do you think will happen next?” I asked as I looked out at the enemy camp in the distance. It was impossible to tell what they were doing but I could guess a meeting was taking place right now.

“A strike team of sorcerers,” Neman said. “They’re going to send their best into this camp to fight us.”

“Think they’re truly that determined?” I asked, looking up at the sky. The world was almost saturated in the red light that bathed the entire area. The sky looked darker somehow…crueler even. A shiver ran down my spine.

“Perhaps not,” Neman said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Is that a white flag they are waving?”

I looked out to see that he was indeed correct. The enemy was approaching with a flag held high in the air. Were they surrendering or was this a trick of some sort?

Chapter 82

This was no true war and therefore a white flag wasn’t really terms for proper behavior on either side. They could be staging some kind of trick here, a trap meant to suss out the truth about our plans. They might not have any idea who they were facing and this was a fact-finding mission.

On the other hand, this might be a proper surrender. I wasn’t sure how the rules would work but if they wanted to give up now, I wouldn’t stop them.

Neman and I decided to meet with the flagbearers in the middle of the road, outside of the fortress. The Colonel came along to mediate just in case this really was a peace deal.

Two men, tall and pale, carried tall poles with white flags hanging from them as they approached, keeping both hands on the poles at all time. This was if to say ‘our hands are tied up, we can do nothing.’ They kept their arms up high and I could see no weapons on their belts. They looked truly like messengers.

“That’s far enough,” I shouted as they got within ten feet of us.

The polebearers stopped, nervously glancing at one another. I could see the fear on their faces. They were nothing more than messengers, unlucky souls who had drawn the short straw. I raised a hand to calm them. “No harm will come to you as long as you are forward with us.”

“Lord Feship has requested your presence,” one of the fellows said, his voice short and brutish. “He promises on his honor that you will not be harmed.”

“What are the promises of a demon lord, hmm?” the Colonel asked. “We know his kind are not bound by their word – for their presence here betrays the peaceful accord we have made.”

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to say,” the speaker said, shrugging at me. “The demon king wishes to parley, either go or don’t. But just know that you are no safer behind your castle than you are in his presence. Only his patience keeps him from emerging in corporeal form to destroy your base.”

I looked at Neman and the Colonel. Both of them blanched at this news. Was it a bluff? It had to have been, right? The cost of manifesting must be greater than the cost of buying peace. That could be my only conclusion.

“Very well,” I said, puffing my chest out. “I will go see him. Alone.”

Neman did not object, for he knew the reason I would go by my lonesome. If I didn’t return, the operation would still continue. At least, so I hoped. The man had threatened cowardice before, would he do so a second time?

“I fear you may not return,” the Colonel said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up to the task of facing a demon lord?”

“Facing one? Not in the least. But I can at least discuss peace with him,” I replied. “I’m under no delusions here, if he tries anything I’ll be killed. But you’ll still be here and that means we can keep up the defense. Nothing changes if I’m turned into paste on the ground. Understood?”

“We will win this conflict, one way or another,” Edward said as he nodded to me.

“Good, then it’s settled,” I said, looking at my escorts. “Take me to Feship.”

The messengers glanced at me nervously but nodded, taking me through the enemy camp, into the center. A great burning fire rested in the middle of the area, placed upon solid black stones that were gathered in the center of the flame.

“Here is our Lord,” the messenger said as he quickly retreated from the area. The entire camp of soldiers cleared out, heading to another part of their forward base. I was left entirely alone within their headquarters. That was certainly not a sign of trust but of terror. Whatever was about to surface would be strong enough to smite me where I stood. I best be prepared.

The flames turned dark red, almost black for a moment as they flickered in front of me. The darkness of night was coming in and the light was nearly blinding.

“And so, a splinter appears,” a voice, low and guttural said from the fire. Something was moving within but I couldn’t make out the figure. It was as if the shape was impossible for me to comprehend. “A sliver. A shard. A tiny little crack in an otherwise perfect plan.”

“You know what I am?” I asked, dread filling my bones. The presence of something foul was rising up within the area and I could sense an evil mind almost everywhere. It surrounded the camp, permeated the air. A cruel hatred, a burning hunger and also a distinct desire for revenge. Revenge against what, I did not know but the energy was strong. Familial in a way.

“I do. You are the result of an oversight, a lack of planning. You are as I said before, a crack in an otherwise perfect plan,” the voice explained. “I am displeased that you have made yourself as useful as you have. What does it benefit you that this city stands? Tell me your desires and I will sate them.”

“I desire peace and safety for these people,” I replied. “Can you sate that?”

“They are ants before me, I care not for them. But I set things in motion long ago for a reason, this is the moment of my ascension!” the voice roared, the flames growing impossibly bright. I stepped back and readied a power shield scroll just in case. “You deny me! You block me from getting what I wish with ease. This was supposed to be what you humans call a cakewalk. Yet I have lost a thousand years of planning in a single afternoon.”

This frustration sounded petty, like a man having a quibble with a teller at the bank. But the monster ranted for a moment, sending a cascade of insults my way. Once the demon lord’s tantrum was over, he continued.

“You probably wonder why I have called you before me, offering peace. You probably wonder if I will stomp you like the bug you are,” Feship said. “But I know that once a Starborn arrives, others will come after them. You are the lantern that will draw out the moths. I will let you live for now because I will destroy all of your kind later.”

“Seems rather sporting of you to tell me in advance,” I said. “Why have you called me here, if not to simply rant and twirl your mustache like a villain from a junk presser?”

“I wish to lay siege to Elantio, for victory or for failure,” Feship said. “You stand in my way. Here is my offer. I shall not manifest and annihilate your fortresss, and in exchange, you shall disarm and allow us to take possession of the land. Retreat to the city and do battle from there.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I will wipe out everything that stands on that patch of land, including a well-constructed fortress,” Feship said. “Consider that building your only saving grace.”

There was tremendous stress within the demon’s voice. He had not planned for a wrench like this to get in his works. “How long will it take you to manifest?” I asked. “And how much power will you lose when you do so? No doubt it will cost a great deal of energy and magic to intercede on human territory.”

“I could manifest in a moment if I wished,” he retorted.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I replied. “Otherwise why would you have bothered to bring me here? I don’t believe that you would rather kill all of the Starborn at once, rather than root them out one at a time. You don’t seem to have the patience for such a plan.”

“What would you know about patience, hmm?” he barked. There was a long pause as I waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Finally he confessed. “You are smarter than I expected for a Lanceman.”

“I’m a Grayard now,” I replied.

“Yes, I can sense your ink,” the demon said. “Another little crack in the plan. You humans…you’re like vermin. Worse than vermin because at least they contribute to the ecosystem. All you do is take away. Consume and destroy.”

“Ah yes, it was us who had the bright idea of killing all the creators and lifegivers in the world,” I dryly replied, crossing my arms. “How long do I have to decide?”

“Twenty four hours seems appropriate,” Feship replied, tossing out a burning hot pocket watch from within his body. I caught it and tossed it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to handle. The black metal piece had a blood red timekeeper within, slowly ticking down to the 24th hour. “All the time you have is on this watch. When it runs out, so does my patience. I will begin to manifest and believe me, it will not end well for your people. Of that I swear.”

Chapter 83

The ultimatum had been given to me, along with a demonic watch that constantly counted every second, a red timer running down the hours and seconds. It was a curious piece of technology, perhaps gnomish in origin but converted to demonic means.

I returned to Fort Hubris in ten minutes, unharmed and unsure of what to do. I needed to bring this to my war secretary and second-in-command. Neman and the Colonel would need to help make the call. I sure as hell didn’t know what the right answer was.

We assembled in the war room, with Aubergine present as well. She was rather curious as to what Feship had said and there was no dissuading her from joining. Eventually I relented and allowed her to sit in, and she listened to the presentation without making a single expression. Neman and Edward, on the other hand, looked rather alarmed.

“So you’re saying he’s giving us a window to retreat? And there’s a question as to whether we should?” Edward asked. “Son, are you daft? This is the win we were looking for!”

“Is it?” I asked. “Because that means the remains of their army is going to be attacking the city. And Feship wants it to happen for some reason. He said win or lose, he must lay siege.”

“Other demons are watching,” Neman said as he tapped on the wooden table in thought. “Strong ones that obey Feship’s authority. Imagine if some of the Principles and Powers out there decided that Feship was unworthy. It’s one thing to lose a battle in a long-term war, but to simply wash out before you even reach your target destination? He would be a laughing stock.”

“So it’s political? He wishes to waste his army on the gates, knowing full well they’ll be decimated, just to save face?” I asked. “I don’t buy that for a moment. He doesn’t want to manifest now. That can only mean one thing. He’s limited in how many times he can manifest and he’s planning on doing so at the city itself. He will become the behemoth that wrecks the gates.”

“Except for the big demon ward in the center of the city,” Aubergine said as she casually filed her nails. “The one that sits heavily protected by the Lanceman family, a group known to be impenetrable, right, Napoleon?”

“Ah shit,” I muttered. “They’re going to try and destroy the demon ward device.”

“The Primordian Protector,” Neman offered.

“I knew that,” I lied. Up until this moment I never even thought about the sanctity and safety of the Primordian Protector, despite the fact that it was the single most precious defense we had. We were so busy focusing on getting ahead of the fight that we hadn’t considered taking one with sabotage on the line.

“I would not believe anyone, no matter how corrupt, would compromise the city’s safety from demonkind by destroying the protector,” the Colonel interjected.

“Then you don’t have a very accurate view of people,” I groaned. “We can assume that Feship is counting on the defenses to be disrupted, so he can manifest. If we push him to manifest now…”

“We’d be slaughtered,” Aubergine said. “Not even the spirits are going to be strong enough to fight him off.”

“Don’t let Shelley hear you say that,” Neman replied. “She seems confident the defenses would hold against anything.”

“I’m not so convinced,” the Colonel said, rapping his knuckles on the table. “We’re looking at an enemy who is reasonable enough to continue fighting but not reasonable enough to surrender. Feship wants something out of this and I say we give it to him. He’s already lost enough and no doubt word has reached the city that troops are out here. We’ll be safer behind the walls, even if he does manifest.”

I nodded. “I was afraid that was the right answer. This feels like a bad move and a loss but I think we should pull back.”

“We’re playing right into his hand, one way or the other,” Aubergine said. “If we take the move he’s expecting, we need to think of what else is in his hand.”

“This isn’t Getherno, woman,” the Colonel snapped.

“Why do you think I play that game? It makes you think about your opponent’s moves,” she coldly replied. “We know Feship wants something. If we give it to him, we need to know for sure what his next play is. And that means we have to guess what cards are in his hand right now.”

“Or maybe we could find someone who knows his deck…” I muttered. “Colonel, head to the city as fast as you can, file an emergency petition for access to a prisoner within the Tower.”

The old man nodded instantly. “Of course. The Lanceman traitor still lives. If anyone knows what strategies are in play, it would be Augustine.”

“That fucker probably counted on this,” I said. “Was probably waiting to betray Feship to save his own skin this whole time.”

“That’s a good move, if you can pull it off,” Neman said.

Everyone scowled at this.

“What?” the sorcerer said, adjusting his collar and sitting up. “I’m not saying I approve of it. But I’m just saying that if a man can betray his race, earn power from a demon king and then get everyone to sweep his actions under the rug? That is some impressive foresight.”

“You say foresight, I say lack of spine,” I replied.

“Maybe I should be the one to chat with him,” Neman suggested. “Since I’m family he’ll trust me more.”

“Can we trust you with him?” Aubergine boldly asked. I put a hand up at that.

“Easy,” I said. “Neman has stood with us in the hardest of circumstances. He’s earned his stripes here.”

“I’m just saying we know that Hartwell’s a smart man, he may have machinations in play already. So just be careful,” Aubergine replied. “Anything he wants, it will suit his escape. Get what we want without giving him anything.”

“That’s the key to any good negotiation with a hostile,” the Colonel agreed. “I say we interrogate him as a group.”

I shook my head. “No. I know Hartwell enough to know he would only deal with me. I’m the one who brought him down, I’m the one he tried to kill.”

“Very well,” the Colonel said. “Then I will head to the city at once. Neman, come with me, as I will need your aid in securing the man.”

“Got it.”

“Bring him to the Archive and have Taggart secure a bedroom for the man, give him books and brandy, cheese and good bread,” I instructed. “We’ll butter him up a little to ease his mood. Perhaps time in prison humbled him a bit…”

Chapter 84

The orders were given. Cut and run. No one objected to the command, no one grumbled or complained. I could see the sheer relief on everyone’s face upon hearing we would be leaving our fortress for the city.

The Gryphons Clutch Bombers, armed with nothing but claws, flew in circles above our forces as we hurried across the flatlands, expecting a barrage of attacks at any moment. A few of the Lettered Battalion flew with those guard gryphons but there was no interception. No attack on us from the enemy. Just eerie silence and a black, starless sky. Well…not entirely starless.

I realized as I peered up into the darkness that there was a star I had never seen before. Well, any star would be one I hadn’t seen, beyond that depicted in paintings and such. It twinkled in the sky, a lone thing.

A flash of light moved above me and I saw, for the briefest moment, the illuminated figure of a silvery woman riding on the back of a goat. The image seared into my eyes and each time I blinked, I could see an afterimage of the woman.

Starborn Awakening! 1,100 XP! appeared in my vision as I shook my head. I had been riding on the back of one of the Gryphons and was just watching the sky mindlessly. In an instant, I had gained enough experience to level up! I suppose this was from all of the activities over the last week. Everything had happened so quickly I was barely able to notice if I was getting much XP for anything.

But now, in the quiet moment, I had been blessed with a vision of what could only be the goddess who had created the bad star above. Whatever this strange omen, this Megina star was, it had unlocked something within me.

You Have Reached Level 6!

The Blessings of the Stars are Upon You! Choose one Star Sign!

The Goat: Your spells automatically deal double damage to demons.

The Woman: You may charm devils for an hour per day.

The Veil: You are immune to mental afflictions caused by demons.

The Eye: You can see into the Astral Realm.

This was new! I had not been expecting that I’d be receiving bonuses based on this blessing but I guess I had been wrong. The gods had indeed put a fly in the ointment of the demonic plans, for these would give me tremendous power.

The Veil was the strongest of the options in my opinion. Demons were often able to use psychic abilities to control and harm our minds, turning our strongest weapons against ourselves. There were spells that could protect me from mental attacks sure, but the Veil seemed persistent and perfect. It was, after all, a boon from the gods.

I selected the Veil, opting for a good defense. I was then greeted with the familiar advancement options for my masteries.

You Have Leveled Up!

Select a Mastery Rank to Increase:

Scrollmaster: 4

Bookbinder: 1

Inkcaster: 0

This level up was at a fortuitous moment in time, for we were regrouping. I had the luxury of preparing more scrolls for the team and even better ones, since I knew there were some good spells on this list. I better expand my capacity with another rank in Scrollmaster. If I had had some time to breathe, I’d have focused on Bookbinder more, but for now I needed raw firepower.

You are now a Rank 5 Scrollmaster!

You gain 2 Scroll Feats! Please Select From Below:

Extra Spells: Gain 3 New Spells.

Activation Mark: Adds an Activation Mark to a scroll. By touching the mark, you activate the scroll without needing to cast the spell out loud. Only you may use the Activation Mark. You may only have one at any given time.

Recall Spell: Change the scroll in your hand to a spell you have previously cast in the day. This may be done once per day.

Tear in Half: Destroy a Scroll to transfer 2 charges to another scroll.

Empowered Scroll Shield: You may sacrifice one scroll to activate a Power Shield for 1 minute.

Educational Cudgel: You may use your scrolls as magical blunt weapons three times per day.

Secret Scroll: Conceals one scroll into your flesh, disguised as a tattoo. Upon pressing the tattoo, returns the scroll to your hand.

Quick Scribe 1: You may scribe up to 6 scrolls in one hour.

Sturdy Scrolls: Scrolls you craft cannot be damaged by mundane things.

Quick Scribe 1 was a tremendous leg up from Fast Scribe, allowing me to make six scrolls in a single hour! I’d be able to knock out a few dozen in the time it would take the enemy army to occupy Fort Hubris. I grabbed that one and Extra Spells, knowing variety would improve our chances of winning greatly.

You may learn 5 new spells.

Rune of Sealing: Trap a spirit or demon within a container or circle.

Spike Burst: Fire a burst of plant spikes at an enemy.

Crystal Arrows: Creates 5 Crystal Arrows that pierce all armor. Must be fired out of a bow.

Hypnotic Sphere: Creates a sphere of energy that hypnotizes all who gaze at it. Especially effective against humans.

Stone of Enlightenment: Creates a Stone of Enlightenment. While wearing this stone on your person, you gain Mental Clarity, resisting all psychic and mental attacks.

Journey of the Moon: Teleport 1 mile in a random direction.

Frozen Touch: Confers an icy energy to your hand. Touching a target freezes them in thick ice for an hour. They emerge unharmed at the end of this period.

Lure Light: Creates a small sphere of light that attracts anything that observes it to follow. The light will take them on a pointless journey away from the area.

Limited Earth Shape: Creates a hammer, chisel or house out of stone for 1 hour.

Elemental Absorption: Attune yourself to one element. You cannot be harmed by that element in any form for 24 hours. Being struck with elemental spells of that type grant you 1 charge.

Stoneform: Target’s body becomes physically stone and cannot be harmed by any normal means. Magic can still deal damage though it is greatly reduced. Lasts 8 hours.

Emergency Spell: At your mental command, activate another Spell you have previously cast. This takes no time.

Regenerative Defense: All injuries and wounds reverse themselves for 10 minutes, no matter how much damage is sustained.

Heavy Artillery: Fire three fireballs at a target.

Lightning Shield: Create a shield of lightning that damages anyone who gets within six feet of you.

Repel Lesser Demon: Causes a demon to flee to the safest point it can reach.

Death Cloud: Creates a 30 foot fog that suffocates all within it.

Rising Star: Summons a Starborn ally to fight alongside you. Requires them to agree ahead of time to the summon.

Five spells felt like a shopping trip. There were a few new spells here, all useful in their own way. Heavy Artillery was the first choice, then Stoneform, Repel Lesser Demon and Deathcloud. These would all be extremely useful for fighting on the walls against the swarms of enemies coming in. And last, I took Emergency Spell. This would allow me to have an extra Power Shield at a moment’s notice.

I finished up my choices and looked at my new character sheet. This was rapidly becoming a wealth of magical power. But would it be enough to save the city? Only time would tell, I suppose.

Chapter 85

With new spells in mind, I quickly prepared as many scrolls I could within three hours’ time. We had enough ink to keep up with such production in the Archive and I had many gnomish assistants to help me prepare. They were practically becoming literate in ink and, devoid of tattoos, they were getting close to be able to come up with spells of their own. Perhaps we could ink them later to ensure they would have the same kind of generative power I did…though such a thing would require a pledge to our new House.

The Archive was abuzz with activity as I finished up my work. Artillery would win us this fight, that I knew. I just had to prepare them well enough for our amateurs to pronounce…no, that wasn’t going to happen. Only the best of the Lettered Battalion could hope to cast these advanced spells. Three fireballs in a single shot was a huge concurrent of power. It would be enough to completely shatter enemy shields.

I crafted 18 scrolls of Artillery and distributed them to the four strongest gnomes in our band. These scholars were eager to use their magic to turn back the tide of the enemy and were quick to take their positions on the walls.

The rest of the city was in a panic. Shelters were not commonplace and so the folks in the streets were rioting, fighting their way into any sorcerer’s home they could. They knew there were magical protections in such places and they were willing to kill to get it.

The statues throughout the city came to life but were not used to protect, rather to enforce the control of the Lanceman family. All living statues converged onto the Lanceman estate as the sorcerers barred themselves from the inside. Word had spread that Feship was on his way and there was no telling what the Lancemans would do.

The embassy exploded less than an hour after news of an army arrived. The foreign offices had decided to destroy the building and all important paperwork within, rather than allow a chance for the information to be captured. This action caused a major panic amongst all foreign sorcerers, who took this as an admission of the city’s inability to protect itself. Many flew or teleported away, taking their buildings and servants with them – though sometimes leaving behind both.

Militias sprang up, looting these empty buildings and arming for war. The city garrison did nothing to stop the peasantry from taking up weapons as long as they were aimed outside of the gate. Anyone who tried revolution within this dark time was swiftly killed by either magic or a statue. It seemed the main concern of the ruling class was to keep power for as long as they could – even if it meant everyone dying in the process.

“We have to move faster,” the Colonel said as he looked out the window while a militia passed by. They saw our mercenaries, heavily armed and waiting outside of the Archive doors, and turned around quickly. “They’re gang-pressing recruits now. That lot would have dragged all able-bodied people out of here if it weren’t for our guards.”

“I can’t have the city let the peasantry run to their death,” I grumbled, finishing up my work. “We need to take command of them somehow.”

“Won’t be hard, no one’s running the helm right now,” the Colonel said. “Word is that sixteen military leaders died in their sleep last night. All at the same hour.”

“Fuck, there are more bad operators in the city than we can count on…what about the prisoner?”

“Hartwell is being transported here as we speak. But I don’t think you should take the bait,” the old man muttered as he looked at me. “He’s going to try and lead you away from the battle. Learn everything you can and then turn the job over to me. I have a few friends who are desperate to keep their investments safe. They’ll do anything we ask, now that they’ve been caught with their pants down.”

“It’s ironic,” I said. “If we were better opportunists, we could have taken control of this whole city in this time. But instead we’re busting our asses to save it.”

“The difference is morality, my good man,” Edward said as he chuckled. “We’ll be able to sleep at the end of the day. And that’s what counts.”

“A lot more might count than you think,” I said, thinking of the gods returning. If they came back, would there be rewards for the righteous after dead once more? I could think that would be nice, that the evil wouldn’t be able to rule and benefit indefinitely. But the road to get there was incredibly long. And not one I knew how to cross easily.

“They’re here,” the Colonel said, finally pulling me away from my scrolls. I was exhausted and hadn’t slept in days but it didn’t matter at this point. I had so much ink I didn’t need to think about charges one bit. I was living off of each moment, fueled entirely by adrenaline. Surprisingly enough, when an entire city is about to be attacked, you don’t feel so groggy.

We made our way into the foyer of the Archive, where a man in heavy iron bonds was being escorted by a band of city guards. It was Augustine Hartwell Lanceman, my cousin and a kinslayer. He looked rather worn out from the trip.

“It was hell to get him out of the Lanceman’s care, they wanted to use him as a bargaining chip to escape. Thank no one that there were some city councilors who realized the danger in handing him over,” Edward said as we walked to receive the prisoner.

“Ah, there is the man of the hour,” Hartwell said as he looked up at me. He had taken a few hits to the face from his time incarcerated, it seemed.

“I was about to say the same,” I said, meeting the man in the middle. The guards surrounded us on all sides.

“Captain Beak wants to meet with you,” one of the guards said, pointing at me. “You’re to come with us and the prisoner to the capital.”

I looked at Taggart, who had come out to take possession of the prisoner. “Go grab Neman and bring him along.”

“On it,” the man said, rushing out to follow my orders. I had really grown to appreciate Tag, the man was a good soldier and listened well. Not to mention he had a knack for navigating the Grimvine Dungeon, finding Neman with ease. I just hope he wouldn’t need to be deployed on the frontline, as he was part of the last wave of defenses.

“I should hope we are being deputized,” the Colonel muttered to me as we marched through the city. Soldiers were beginning to roll out of the city garrisons, heavily armed with pikes and spears. Most were incredibly green-looking, barely able to keep their weapons held high. Reserves.

I walked alongside Augustine and looked at him. “So what is your big scheme?” I asked.

“No scheme,” the man replied, grinning at me. “Just a simple offer. Full cooperation in exchange for full amnesty. Those are my terms.”

“And I must cooperate in order to save this city?” I asked.

“Oh absolutely, I have some safeguards in place that will ensure at the right time, the wrong thing will happen,” Augustine chuckled. “Safeguards that can be disarmed at a moment’s notice.”

“You just need to give the right order, right?”

“Exactly, you’re a clever man. I figured my ass would be tossed in prison at some point. So I made arrangements well ahead of time. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to intercept them,” Hartwell replied. “That changes everything. Since Feship will fail in his assault, I’m better off on your side.”

“Is that so?” I asked. We arrived at the steps to the capital building. It was eerily empty, devoid of all life except for a skeleton crew of guards. The rounded building had been boarded up and a cadre of soldiers came out to escort us in.

“Indeed. I am nothing if not an opportunist,” Hartwell said.

“Sounds to me like you’re just a coward,” I replied.

“Survival is a virtue and cowardice is just survival we didn’t like,” the man shot back. “So what will it be?”

“You full well know what it’ll be,” I said as we ascended the stairs into the building. “I’m prepared to offer anything it takes to stop Feship from annihilating us.”

“You don’t have a proud bone in your body, do you?”

“Funny how being called a mule and stripped of your personhood humbles a person, doesn’t it?” I asked. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this city. I’ll lower myself to any depth if it means we can protect the innocent.”

“And that is why you will never rule,” Augustine chuckled. “You are weak.”

“Full amnesty in exchange for full cooperation,” I concluded. “That’s the deal I’m offering.”

“Are you authorized to offer that?”

“I might be the only one you can trust to give true amnesty to you,” I said. “Every other faction in the city? They’re not suckers like me. You can’t trust them at their word.”

“I suppose that is a point in your favor,” Augustine said. He clicked his teeth together as we made our way into one of the sub chambers, where a dozen men and women in military garb were gathered. “Very well. If you can deliver, I will save the city singlehandedly.”

A tall woman emerged from the rabble of guards, wearing a full military uniform, complete with several medals of honor. Upon her pauldrons were golden frills. This suggested high rank.

“Captain Beak!” the soldiers ahead of us said. “We have collected both assets.”

“Good,” the woman said. “Which is which?”

“I’m the prisoner, ma’am,” Hartwell charmingly offered as he raised his shackles to show his hands were bound.

“There’s no time for introductions,” the Colonel barked as he shoved through the group. “We came here to meet with the Captain, why?”

“Edward, good to see you,” Beak said, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Trish…” he said in between his teeth. I could sense the history between these two and it was vicious. Not a good sign.

“An enemy force arrived outside of the Deadheart Woods, only to be intercepted by your forces,” the Captain said as she approached me, bowing a little. “You took out their behemoth and singlehandedly protected this city from the worst siege in its history.”

That was unexpected praise.

“The Lancemans have shown their true colors, the foreign embassies and their officers gone, martial law has been declared but the peasants know they’re the first to die and it’s a split between offense and turning against the existing government. Not to mention a large amount of our key leaders were assassinated in a single stroke of a clock last night,” Captain Beak explained. She shook her head. “In a matter of minutes, I became the most powerful person in the city. And not by any willingness on my part. I’m just Captain of the Guard, this was supposed to be my retirement gig.”

“I’m sorry that this war has interfered with you resting on your laurels,” the Colonel snapped. I glared at the man but the ornery old bastard took orders from no one.

“Shut it, old man!” the Captain snapped, pointing a finger in his face. “War hasn’t been formally declared, so all power of defense is in the hands of a single executive. The last person who could handle that sort of problem is long dead. So now I’m passing the buck. Napoleon, I’m appointing you governor of the city. This loss is officially yours to handle.”

“Loss?” I asked.

The woman scoffed. “You think we can handle an assault this big? We won’t survive a week before infighting tears us apart.”

“Then I accept your appointment,” I said. “Effective immediately, I’m installing the Colonel as Captain of the Guard. Augustine? You will have your amnesty if you can stop this city’s defenses from falling in the next thirty seconds.”

Chapter 86

The appointment of governor was clearly a solution to everyone’s problem. The mule wanted to defend the city? Why not make it so that he was running the city when it fell? Offices were falling apart as officers defected, fleeing to protect their families from the wild mobs that were wandering the city. The statues were only stopping internal attacks and thus were only adding to the tension.

I sat at my desk, looking at the magical map in front of me. I could see the entire overlay of Elantio, along with a tally of the total soldiers marching on our position. 300,000. A portal had opened up, bringing in reinforcements by the thousands. Feship might not be able to take the city but he was sure as hell going to get in.

Augustine sat across from me, sipping on brandy. The man had been true to his word. A command phrase was given to me, one that would cause the men hired to sabotage the Primordian Protector to stand down. A series of guards were contacted and then…well, nothing happened. There were no disasters that took the shield down. Feship wouldn’t be able to manifest here. We had beaten his gambit by playing a few steps ahead.

Hartwell made out like a bandit here. He gained full amnesty for all crimes, both known and unknown up until the point of signing. From there, he would be able to do whatever he pleased – after the battle was over. Until then, he’d be sitting pretty with me, locked up and waiting for the fight to end.

The Colonel took full advantage of his new appointment and enacted a few policies that eased the rioting within the city. Bread was distributed and shelters were forcibly opened by guards, allowing the majority of the civilians to take refuge. With the women and children safe, many men stood up and volunteered to take up arms to defend the city. This increased our numbers tenfold, though these were not well trained soldiers. They would perish quickly in a fight against someone with a war weave in their mind.

“We’re forty-thousand strong thanks to the volunteers,” Neman said from his position on the other side of the desk. He was monitoring the positions of our troops.

“Any sorcerers?” I asked.

“None. They are all hiding. Or were paid off.”

“Oh no, Feship wouldn’t spread the love so easily,” Hartwell cheerily offered. “That monster worked hard to flip me. I was the weakest link in the chain, of that I can assure you.”

“Traitor,” Neman spat, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t seem to mean it, rather was just attempting to show his loyalty in a clunky way.

“So I just speak into this thing?” I asked, pointing to the little golden circle mounted onto the desk. A nearby secretary nodded at me.

“Frontlines, do you come in?” I asked.

“Frontline copies,” a gruff voice replied.

“What’s the status of the Lettered Battalion?” I asked.

“Morale is high and they’re ready to deploy at a moment’s notice, sir,” the voice of the soldier answered. “Siege weapons have been spotted as well. They appear to be summons.”

Here was the hard decision to make. Deploy the wizards first or last?

First meant we’d have the highest amount of shock against the enemy, but they would run out of munitions quickly. Whatever I produced would pale compared to the sheer number of bodies coming our way. Sending soldiers out to fight in a melee and using the Letters as the last ditch effort would ensure we had firepower all the way to the end, when it counted…

“Oops, they’re moving!” Hartwell cheered, pointing to the map. I glanced down to see the first flank of soldiers was beginning to converge on our territory.

“Deploy the wizards first,” I said through the intercom ring. “Hold the soldiers back on the walls and the city.”

“Understood,” the soldier replied. “Orders have been relayed.”

Hartwell raised a finger and tilted it towards the map, dragging an area out. As if pulling a cloud from the air, he produced a silver bubble that projected an image of the battlefield. “There, now we can watch.”

Breathlessly, I stared at the bubble, watching as an army approached from the east. Then another army, coming in from the south, then west and finally north. They were encircling us slowly, readying a traditional siege.

“Artillery master,” I said into the intercom. “Do you copy?”

“I copy,” she shouted. “Orders?”

“Fire at will,” I said. “Unleash full devastation. I want scrolls burning up faster than the enemy, understood?”

“All units, fire at will! Release hell upon these demonic fuckers!” the artillery woman shouted.

I watched the skies begin to light up with streaks of magical energy. It felt strange to be safe behind the walls of the city, watching as we took shots at an enemy half a mile away, but the Colonel had insisted.

“If you lose your head in this match up, we lose the whole city,” he had said. “Sit in the bunker and use the Battlefield Command devices that the city has built for this exact situation.”

Now I could mostly just watch as the fireballs began to crash from the heavens. The Heavy Artillery spell was easy to identify, for in the sky a great circular pattern of eldritch symbols would appear, flashing three great lights of green and purple before unleashing a barrage of meteors.

Each explosion peppered the ground, causing shields and warriors to rip apart in seconds. These batteries of high powered magic sustained themselves for almost twenty seconds, turning the entire land into a hellscape. The greenery was scorched, the flames having consumed everything.

Long chunks of stone raised themselves out of the ground, forming complex mazes that the warweaved soldiers were unable to navigate. More fireballs, this time thrown one at a time. Clouds of black gas rose up in heavily concentrated areas, snuffing all light like a candle.

Magical warfare was horrific but brutally efficient. There was a reason the old-school methods of siege had failed once magic reached common blood.

Sorcerers appeared on the battlefield from time to time, though they were quickly killed by lance spells, our gnomish scholars aiming specifically for the casters. They were the only ones who could produce magical spells that were strong enough to break through the defenses of a sorcerer. I hoped that they were enjoying their tenure as war wizards, for I was going to need them for the long haul if this war dragged out…

And yet, it seemed that Feship never arrived.

The soldiers eventually reached the walls but hot oil and soldiers manning the ramparts were all it took to repel their assault. Most only had ladders to climb. The enemy siege weapons had been devastated by the first wave of artillery fire, leaving the enemy with little other than brute force. And walls were walls. They easily prevented the enemy from getting in.

It wasn’t obvious at first but within an hour of the fighting, it had become clear that we were winning. More than winning. We were crushing the opposing side. Our 35 magicians were united by training, pageantry and scrolls by the hundred. Sorcerers were simply too precious to risk as shock troops and so they couldn’t counter us easily. For every spell they managed to block, three more got in.

By the time our supplies dwindled down, the enemy force was mulched. It wasn’t even a contest. Feship had committed his troops to oblivion, either to save face or because he was too stupid to think otherwise. It was hard to get in the head of a demon, especially one whose motives were so mysterious.

“Are they…are they retreating?” Neman asked, realizing what was happening. The enemy forces were moving back to the Fortress.

“It would seem so,” I said. “We won the day.”

“We won the day?” Hartwell chuckled. “Friend, you’ve won, plain and simple. Feship was planning this very carefully, requiring many great things moved in order for him to freely move about. Favors granted, domains changed, promises given…he will not be able to attack us again for our lifetimes. Even our children’s lifetimes.”

I looked at the battlefield. The absence of the great demon power was incredibly noticeable. “Do you really think so?” I asked.

“I know so. The demon spent a thousand years planning this attack. You fucked it up in an afternoon. That’ll show him to mess with humans,” Hartwell said as he closed his eyes. I could see he looked rather relaxed. Why shouldn’t he be? He was a free man and would no doubt take all the credit for saving the city.

Neman motioned to me to step aside for a moment. I found this strange, since we were in charge here, but I humored the man and walked off to the corner of the office to discuss.

“Dear brother,” Neman said, clasping me on the shoulder. “I now see who you are. And I see who my family is and who they have always been. Count me as your brother from now on, in the House Grayard. Ink me up, make me a wolf too.”

I nodded. But before I could speak, he continued.

“So I say this with the utter interest of the House, the city and the general good of the population, don’t give the power back,” Neman said.

“What do you mean, don’t?” I asked.

“During some of the chaos, the Colonel handed me a book. It outlines the legal code of the city. Once you are handed governorship, you have full rights. Nothing can stop you from installing yourself as the new ruler.”

“You’d have me become some kind of king?” I asked.

“No, I’d have you become the administrator, the most boring possible job a king could have,” Neman pressed. “For the governor can do everything a full government can do, all in the name of protecting the city.”

“I will not become a despot against the will of the…” I trailed off.

If I didn’t accept responsibility for Elantio, then the Lanceman family would just come back into power. They would learn little from this ordeal and probably just use the experience to gain even more luxury at the expense of others. “Is there precedent?”

“Five times a governor has taken control of the city and, each time, that governor has ruled until the end of their natural life…power only returns to the council and the sorcerers when he abdicates.”

Feship was defeated for now…but not for good. The city was safe and sound, and we’d be able to organize a proper defense…but what would happen in another hundred years? I might be able to go to the grave in peace but what of my children’s children? There would be many wolves in Elantio, for my wife wished to bring her people back from the brink of extinction. This wasn’t just a city of sorcerers and cruelty, it was going to become home to my family. And to my legacy…

“If I take the reins, it’ll be to ensure that Elantio is prosperous and self-sufficient,” I said. “Not to empower our family. We should profit nothing from this.”

“That is why you have to take charge,” Neman said.

I nodded as I looked at the man. I could see that he had his city’s best interest in mind. “Charming,” Hartwell said from his seat. “You’re smart enough to take the title…but are you strong enough to defend it?”

Epilogue

My hand shook as I raised the jar. Getting a hold of this had been a real pain in the rear but Neman had delivered. A spider, caught in a jar from my estate.

Swallowing hard, I opened the lid and tilted my ears to listen. Sure enough, a voice, soft though fervent, was speaking in a feminine tongue. The words sent shivers down my entire being, as I knew this was indeed True Prophecy.

“I heard in the distance a great sound, a voice that cries out ‘A bad star, the child is born under a bad star.’ Though I heard but one voice, seven more came to be, growing louder until the ground shook. A great fire came from the earth, erupting and creating a division between the heavens, tearing the sky from the sea and the sea from the land. And that is when I saw the eagle, straining to hold the heavens and earth together, claws digging deep into their flesh. ‘When the Clock enters the Time will Begin,” he cries. “And only then can the jackass bring back that which is thought lost.’”