In the human kingdom of Oriawell, in the border city of Enchre, in the basement of the Temple of Knowledge, a young nobleman sat in his favorite reading nook, procrastinating.

Saul glanced at the hourglass on the wall, then back to his book, Maladies of the Soul. Then back at the hourglass, which read 3:14. He had been looking at the glass at least as much as he had been reading his book since he passed his self imposed deadline fourteen minutes ago. At 3:15, he finally straightened in his chair and gestured at the reading light with his right hand.

“Off”

It unobligingly stayed on. Having given it his best effort, Saul resumed reading. At 3:20, he sighed and closed his book. Reaching into his money pouch, he pulled out a quarter-ring and fed it to the jagged semi-elven tattoo on his right wrist. The tattoo regained its luster, and he waved at the light again. This time when he whispered to it, the light went out, leaving him sitting in a shadowy nook. Looking around, he found no one had been looking his way. Unfortunate, since his mom had asked him to try to show off the functions of the tattoo he had ‘developed.’

While walking back through the basement library, the quick, muffled footsteps of Sister Young intercepted him near the staircase. She was only slightly his senior, but had been working in the Scholar’s Library about as long as he’d been coming on his own.

“Would you like me to hold onto that for you?” she asked quietly.

Saul bowed shallowly in greeting, “It’s not that promising to be honest, but I would still like to read more.” he whispered, handing her the book.

“Very well, you know where to find it,” she whispered back, “Oh, and happy birthday by the way.”

“Thank you for remembering, I guess,” Saul muttered uncomfortably, “I was hoping it wouldn’t be too large of an affair this year.”

“Ah, but do not forget, young lord,” she whispered sagely, “The Scholar’s wisdom is as deep as the seas.”

He looked at her askance. “The Scholar Saint told you it was my birthday?” he asked skeptically, glancing at an idol on the wall near the staircase.

“Of course not, we know each other better than that! Besides, you’ve been one of our most regular worshippers for years. Not to mention that disagreement you had with one of the senior priests when you turned 20 last year.” She smiled at the memory.  “We don’t get a lot of excitement here.”

“I did appreciate the offer,” Saul replied honestly, “Joining a church just isn’t the solution I want right now. I have responsibilities to my house.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, a Saint’s patience is as vast as the skies.”

Saul tried to discreetly check the time as he rolled his eyes.

“And how have you been? If not excitement, have there been any new additions to the collection?”

“Oh, yes actually!” the librarian whispered, “A gentleman in one of the mid regions donated a number of his father’s field journals to the temple, and we got a copy. The man apparently had some stealth and concealment abilities, and observed a number of creatures and daemons in their natural environments!”

“Really?” he looked at the hourglass again with frustration, “I would be interested to hear about it, but I need to leave about ten minutes ago. Could you tell me more tomorrow please?”

“I’d be glad to.”

“Thank you, Sister Young, have a good afternoon.” Saul bowed again.

“Same to you, Lord Saul.”

He reluctantly disengaged and hurried up the carpeted stairs. Passing a few classrooms, he took a side exit and cut through the small park behind the temple, shared with the adjacent Temple of Love. Reaching the end of the temple district, he picked up his pace and made it to the guard station on the edge of the noble district in record time.

There was a Lady speaking with the clerk, but she stepped aside when she felt his noble title.

“I need the weekly duties for House Ficial,” he told the old clerk, “Quick as you can, I’m running late.”

The man nodded and left his seat to look through a small cabinet, returning a moment later with a scroll case sealed with the crest of his house and that of the Marquess.

Heading from the guard station through the noble district, Saul had to keep a more dignified pace. By the time he reached the Ficial estate, it was already 4:30. He wasted a few minutes taking a roundabout route to his rooms while looking for his sister. Neither of the two servants he asked had seen her recently either, so he resigned himself to being a bit sweaty as he changed into nicer clothes for the banquet.

Reaching his rooms, he walked through the dark lounge, the window just a blank rectangle of stone at the moment, down the hall and into his dressing room. It lit up at his command, and he opened the third wardrobe from the right along the back wall. Once he was dressed, he stood in front of a conspicuously blank patch of wall by the wash basin near the door. It used to hold a full-length mirror, but he’d had all the mirrors in his rooms removed last year to encourage himself to practice. He nodded to the wall, keeping his hands by his sides.

“Mirror”

The wall rippled, a circular patch centered on his face becoming reflective. It only reached down to waist height, and the top and left side spilled onto the ceiling and counter. Saul made do, stepping closer to get an angle to check his pants, then grabbing a curling needle to fix his hair.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

“I brought Lady Michah, my lord,” one of the servants from earlier called.

“She can come on in.”

Saul stepped out of the dressing room to meet his sister, who was wearing a nearly identical green and purple outfit to him. Neither of them were fond of fashion, so when one of them had to get a wardrobe made, they would order the same for the other. That way, they each only went to the tailor every other season.

“Great timing, I need a wash,” he said, “I was running a bit late and didn’t have time to bathe.”

“It’s your birthday banquet, you’re expected to show up after it starts anyway,” she replied, walking past him into the dressing room, “This mirror’s sloppy. Are you actually trying to hurry for once?”

“Not really, the mirror’s a new smaller gesture I’m working on.”

“Just pointing at the wall?”

“Just nodding at the wall,” he countered with a smile.

“Hmm…” she studied the mirror like an art critic. “I’m not impressed.”

“Oh yeah? Can you do better? With your water?”

“No, but you can,” she challenged him with a smile, then looked back to where the mirror encroached on the countertop. “Maybe try indicating a shape with head movements for now?”

“That might work,” he acknowledged, “But why did you come in here in the first place? Clean doesn’t drip.”

“If you want me to clean you up, I’m wetting your bird’s nest down.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.”

She tapped his cheek, shirt, vest, and pants.

“Clean Clean Clean Clean. Alright, lean over the basin. Good, Water”

Saul scrunched up his nose as he felt water form in his hair, wrapping around every strand down to his scalp. He let it drip for a moment then grabbed a towel.

“If you want clean underwear, you can change them yourself.” Michah said, then leaned out of the dressing room for a moment before lowering her voice. “Now, listen, there's some politics you need to play along with.”

He straightened up while running his fingers through his hair to even it out.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know many details, but I know what you need to do,” she explained, “Uncle Nathan is going to make his gift into a presentation. You need to act like you’re probably going to accept his suggestion, but not actually say that you will.”

“I can do that. Is there anyone there that I need to butter up or give a cold shoulder?”

“No, Mom said you should just act natural, so I don’t think telling you which house is involved would help.”

“Fine by me,” he checked his hair in the mirror and buttoned his vest, “Just pretend like I’m going to accept whatever icon set he cooked up. Easy enough.”

“Perfect. I’ll head over, just remember to be fashionably late, not late-late.”

Saul mock-scowled at her back, but she didn’t turn around before leaving his rooms. He thought over what she said as he put on the finishing touches. As long as the icon Uncle Nathan gave him offered some versatile powers, he could feign interest easily enough. His pipe dream was getting a skill icon to go with the mirror icon he already had. No matter what the third icon and resulting soul idol were, he’d get an impressively adaptive powerset.

With his clothes straightened out, he rolled his right sleeve up part way and pinned it. His wrist tattoo still stood out nicely, but he fed it another quarter for good measure. Then he retrieved his death amulet, clasping it around his neck and securing it to one of his vest buttons so it wouldn’t bounce. He looked at the hourglass pensively. 5:07, not quite fashionably late territory yet. He put a mist mirror ring on his right forefinger.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Looking around his sitting room for something to kill a few minutes, he considered his small bookshelf, but had read everything on it at least three times. That was his criteria for actually getting a copy of a book or scroll for his own collection, but if he started reading one of his favorites he’d have to put it down almost immediately. Saul expected to receive a fair number of texts about tattooing for his birthday, with how much his family had been leveraging his ‘accomplishment’. He already planned to donate most of the texts to the tattooist who had done the legwork—after he read them once or twice.

Moving to the wall, he gestured with his right hand.

“On”

The window turned on, letting in the light of the early evening. The reception hall was mostly visible to the far left, with a comfortably modest number of carriages waiting nearby. The birthday banquet shouldn’t be too large, maybe fifty or sixty people. He caught a small cloud zipping over the trees, disappearing as it dropped down in front of the hall—Baron Mulward or his son running late. It was finally 5:15, which was good enough.

In the entrance hall, one of Saul’s cousins gave him a small storage satchel for gifts as they walked into the main reception hall where the attendees were mingling before the banquet. He wasn’t expecting any big-ticket items this year, and had requested more personal presentation of gifts to take some of the pressure off both him and the givers.

Most of the other nobles looked his way as he joined the gathering, but quickly returned to their conversations, with only the nearest group breaking up to come talk to him. The greetings and gifts settled into a natural rhythm as he approached members of other Viscount houses, or was approached by lesser nobles when the short conversations wound down.

It was only four or five polite conversations before Saul received a nice surprise. Lady Cemore presented him with a translated dwarven text on light and dark cantrips related to the metal icon she hoped might be applicable to his own mirror icon. Thrilled, he had to prevent himself from being too effusive in his thanks. The next gift was distinctly unusual in a less pleasant manner. While Saul had somewhat expected to receive a few icon fragments to fill out his abilities once he completed his soul, one from the flesh icon was a strange gift. He was unable to suppress his confusion, but the lord who gave it was surprisingly unoffended. 

A short time later, he received a more expected cloud icon fragment from Lord Parmenus, Baron Mulward’s son. 

“You should consider using it!” Parmenus opined, “Aunt Gladys actually used a mirror fragment with the cloud icon to get her Shifting Shard Cloud; if you get something similar, it’s excellent for shredding the lungs of hard shelled monsters!”

No one could argue that they weren’t effective, but the Mulwards had an enthusiasm for the noble duty of monster-fighting that bordered on eccentricity. Their family tended to give out cloud and acid fragments irrespective of the occasion. Saul thanked the man and moved on. The expected tattooing tomes trickled into his satchel along with two scrolls about the mirror icon he’d already read in the Temple of Knowledge’s library. The only slightly interesting book was a record of the abilities and experiences of a noble Thief that had a few powers like those he wanted. He had to be dismissive of the gift, which was from a woman not of noble title, but he made a small note in his schedule to visit the minor house that her brother had married into.

The last person he spoke with, not coincidentally, was the representative of the Marquiss’ family. He waited respectfully a short distance away for the man to finish speaking with Saul’s uncle, then approached with a bow.

“Lord Thaddeus, thank you for honoring me with your attendance.”

“Of course, congratulations on a most successful year, Lord Saul,” Thaddeus replied with a small smile, “My mother sends her apologies for not coming personally.”

“I would have been flattered by her presence, but I really don’t mind,” Saul reassured him, indicating the rest of the room, “I didn’t want anything too large this year and I’m sure many more would have come if she did.”

“I see. Well, she sent a conciliation gift for you that it sounds like you might find preferable after all.”

Thaddeus reached into a pouch and pulled out a familiar disc. It was as large as Saul's whole hand with the fingers extended, half an inch thick, and completely weightless as it was pressed into his surprised hands. He could feel the symbol engraved on it as he ran a finger over the surface, but the shifting collage of black, brown, and red of the warm, almost slick material made it hard to make out. He gripped it by the raised edge, glancing at Uncle Nathan, who was still nearby. The man’s face was perfectly neutral, not a great sign.

“This is the…?”

“Hunger Icon, yes,” Thaddeus said, “You already have the mirror icon, with this and a simple icon, you’ll have a rare form of the doppelganger idol focused on imitating the powers of others. Just your area, I believe?”

Saul hadn’t actually recognized the icon, but he wasn’t about to correct the man. This was a combination he had considered, but it had a slightly higher-than-comfortable tendency to truly alter your species.

Uncle Nathan was moving away discreetly but quickly now, leaving him with no clues about what he needed to do with this obviously political gift. After a slightly awkward moment of silence, he decided to follow Michah’s tacit advice and be honest.

“Uh,” Saul started eloquently, “That’s very thoughtful, really, I do appreciate it. It’s a combination I’ve strongly considered. In the end though, I’m not sure that’s the soul idol I want. Doppelganger actually changes people’s species sometimes. While I somewhat dislike our death affinity, I do generally like being human.”

He tried to play the last part off as a joke while he busied himself sliding the icon into his satchel. When he looked back to Thaddeus, the man’s smile was a bit wider.

“Reasonable, reasonable. Well, the fragments could still be useful.”

“Yes, of course.”

Saul bowed again, and excused himself. Finding one of the discreet alcoves to the side of the room, he rubbed his left fore and middle fingers together and gestured at himself.

“Chill”

His death amulet tingled around his neck as the Chill cantrip took effect; his heart rate slowed, the heat left his face, and he stopped sweating. Physical signs of fluster ameliorated, he immediately returned to the gathering to keep up appearances. It wasn’t long before he tracked down a servant serving a smoky cheese he quite liked, which went some way toward helping him refocus on proceedings.

Only half an hour later, the serving staff began seating people for the meal. Saul was seated at the right side of his father, Viscount Joel Ficial, for once. His mother, Viscountess Junia Ficial, was seated to her husband’s left, where she towered over him. When everyone was in place, his requested feature dish was brought out on platters carried by pairs of servers. The younger man to Saul’s own right, the son of Viscountess Winnell, looked at the platter on their end of the table with obvious confusion.

“Why is it blue?”

“There’s an unusual kind of algae cooked into the noodle sauce,” Saul explained, “Dishes that resemble the meat’s habitat were a short-lived trend in banquets when I first started going to them eight years ago or so. This one is called a Duck Pond. The garnish is actually a boiled water plant that ducks eat.”

“Anything other than water or grass seems like it would be impractical?” the young man observed as he was served a portion of roast duck and blue noodles sprinkled with small leaves.

“Yes, like I said, short lived,” Saul said, “You do still see landscape-themed desserts though, which were part of the same trend.”

Reactions around the two long tables were mixed. The younger lords and ladies around Saul’s age or a bit older were the most appreciative. He could tell who was familiar with the dish by how they ate it. The garnish was actually much better eaten on its own as a side dish, which was unfortunate given the specifics of the presentation. Baron Jeriah looked quite pleased with the dish, which had originally been developed by one of his chefs.

When the platters were about to be taken away, most of the gathered nobles suddenly got to their feet, looking toward the far side of the room. Saul, like most of the younger attendees, was initially unsure what was going on, before he felt his amulet grow slightly warmer. Taking the hint, he drew his right hand past his eyes.

“See Death”

His tattoo immediately lost most of its luster and a headache started brewing, but he caught a glimpse of what had caught everyone’s attention. The ambient death in the room was moving noticeably in one direction, toward a point somewhere below the left side of the room. Toward the end of the table, Parmenus started oozing dark olive smoke.

“Lord Parmenus, please hold off for a moment,” Joel said, stepping behind Saul’s chair and putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat, “Nathaniel, go see what’s happening downstairs.”

Saul’s uncle quickly strode across the room and down the stairs nearest to the kitchen and serving quarters. The phenomenon grew steadily more pronounced for a tense minute or so, before the ambient death suddenly returned to an aimless, meandering current. When no sounds of violence came from below, everyone relaxed. Saul noticed Parmenus attempting to subtly get rid of the corrosive necrosis cloud he had made by eating it.

Uncle Nathan returned to the hall flipping a large black disk between his hands. Saul straightened in his chair, guessing where this was going.

“Not a monster after all!” Nathaniel announced to the party, “It seems we attracted a death icon with our lively festivities. As the man of the hour, I believe it should go to Saul here. In fact, it will go perfectly with a little spectacle I was already planning…”

Saul slid his chair back and turned it part way, trying to put on his best surprised and interested face. His uncle withdrew a second, swirling icon from his vest and, not content with its already eye-catching patterns, used one of his signature light icon abilities to make it hover a foot above his palm while slowly rotating, shining like a rainbow beacon, and throwing off a variety of sounds and smells. Saul could smell a sharp tang and salt water, while hearing three overlapping kinds of crackling or sizzling.

“Water and earth, fire and air, metal and lightning, not to mention a bit of acid!” Nathanial proclaimed, holding the icon aloft while taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the tables. “My ambitious namesake here didn’t want to limit himself to a paltry handful of icons, so what was a doting uncle like myself to do but find him something to satisfy his hunger for variety? Lords and Ladies, I give you the Element Icon!”

Saul’s father’s dry voice cut through the background racket.

“Very thoughtful Nathaniel. I assume you checked what idol it will produce?”

“But of course, dear brother.” Nathaniel replied, seizing the icon from the air and sweeping into a bow. “Worry not, he won’t be so Foolish as I. With his mirror icon, the element icon, and this convenient death icon, he will have the soul of a Guardian. Wielding, weakening, and deflecting any natural forces that may beset our fair people.”

Uncle Nathan slapped the two contrasting disks together in an absurdly valuable stack and held them out to Saul, bringing all eyes back to him. He didn’t have to feign surprise, but did need to fake a degree of enthusiasm.

“Thank you so much!” he stood to take the icons and give his uncle a hug, giving him an excuse to keep his back to most of the guests, “I knew that I’d have to take death sooner or later, and element will give me even more variety. I was actually privileged enough to get a hunger icon earlier, I think its fragments will give me a good base for draining away elemental forces like you said.”

“Marvelous,” Nathanial said with a broad smile, then yelled back across the room, “Go ahead and bring out the dessert!”

As the servers returned to the room on cue, Saul sat back down and carefully added the two icons to his satchel. He was half worried it would disintegrate from the sheer power it now contained. The death icon was common enough, at least in human regions, but hunger was rare and element so rare he had barely considered it, even though he knew it existed. Between that and the translated dwarven text from earlier, he wondered if a dwarven trader had passed through a nearby region recently.

Dessert was much less interesting. He hadn’t put in a specific request, but the baker had made a commendable effort to make all of the small cakes reflective. It made the frosting eggy, but Saul still finished his to show approval.

Soon after, the attendees left for other evening engagements. Saul had asked for a shorter banquet with the mingling beforehand specifically to encourage this.

When there were just extended relatives remaining, his eldest sister Cherith joined them from downstairs. Saul raised an eyebrow at her, and she glanced in Uncle Nathan’s direction but said nothing. The people from his family knew how quickly Saul went through books and how often he changed his mind about his favorite icon combination, so he only received mirror and simple rings from them. With family at least, he didn’t have to pretend that he was that interested in the monetary gifts.

His mother, Junia, surprised everyone with her ‘present’. She produced a peonage contract and several related documents, then explained to the family at large.

“A reasonably competent young man from a family of fishermen has applied to become a peon to our house. The steward provisionally accepted, and I would like Saul to take care of confirming the contract and providing the icon and fragments.” She handed him the stack of vellum. “Most of the details are in here, if you are interested?”

“This is great,” Saul said, rolling the documents carefully and pulling out his schedule, “I’d love to take care of it!”

“Very good dear. Now, everyone, you are free to follow our guests or return to your business for the evening. Children, come with me.”