Halfway through the fifth day of their journey, they reached the edge of the forest. It was well too because the newt had started to subtly complain about the smell their group had accumulated… well the not-undead members of it anyway. Roderick had the advantage of not sweating.
“And I think I even see a town in the distance,” Rhys nodded. Not much larger than a big village, but that was actually ideal. Likely not too poor either, given it was surrounded by ripe fields. “We will stop by to resupply.”
“There will be knights there,” Beatrice warned, a light shudder going through her before she suppressed it. “Unless… you have a way around them?”
“How do you think their ‘sniffers’ notice us?” the necromancer asked instead of a direct answer.
“By the smell of magic. Of… the Change?” she tried.
“That is a common misconception,” Rhys shook his head. “But it is actually a sixth sense originating from an organ situated near the lacrimal bones - that is, a small area roughly behind your nose and under the back of your eyes. The sensation of ‘smelling magic’ is merely a misconception caused by the proximity of the organ to the nostrils. A self-inflicted illusion.”
“Do we also have this organ then?” she immediately wondered.
“Certainly,” Rhys nodded. “It is quite literally what gives mortals the ability to perceive and interact with the Change.”
“Wouldn't that mean that all their sniffers are also mages?!” Beatrice’s eyes widened for a moment, then a disbelieving chuckle escaped her. “Oh, if only they knew!”
“One cannot be called a mage without the proper training,” Rhys corrected. “It is our knowledge and repeated use that makes the Change naturally gather around us in gradually increasing quantities - hoping to be used. It is that accumulation that stands out to the sixth sense of others. It is also what you tap into as fuel for magic most of the time.”
“Do we then… remove it somehow?” Beatrice suggested. “If there is nothing there to notice, it can be easily hidden.”
“That would be a last measure, leaving us defenseless. And a complete purging of the Change would be both difficult and shortlived,” the necromancer shook his head again. “No. We will use perfume.”
“Perfume?” the newt repeated, seemingly confused. In the meantime, Rod had already retrieved the herbal concoction from a few days prior, neatly dosed into two vials. Rhys gracefully took them and opened one, releasing a mild herbal scent - somewhat close to mint.
“Since their sniffers over-rely on the misconception that they smell the magic, it can be used against them. A scent made with the will to disguise us from exactly that achieves such an effect,” though Rhys omitted the few assumptions he was making about their awareness of these tricks. Knight orders hunting mages wouldn’t comission their foes to help them.
“Could you teach me how to make this?” she immediately inquired.
“Hmm, alchemy is a bit distant from what I have been teaching you.”
“Please?” she tried.
“We can buy additional supplies and see if you have the knack for it,” Rhys shrugged. He had already gone far enough, a few more steps hardly mattered. “Well, how do you fancy a brief return to civilization?”
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Roderick had to stay behind, choosing to scout the way ahead of them - knights with no apparent affiliation stood out too much in towns. That was experience speaking and Rhys relayed to Beatrice as much in case she ever had a need for the knowledge. She was barely listening though, too genuinely excited to take a break from their hard journey.
They walked by the edges of wheat fields until encountering a dirt road which lead to the town. Rhys did not know its name nor did he care to find out. Something was definitely off though, because instead of a couple of bored guards maintaining order at the gates, there was a full squad of knights there. Beatrice grew nervous at the sight but Rhys remained unimpressed.
“Should I be worried, seeing good oathmen at the doors?” Rhys asked as they approached. There was no queue the way they had come from so he could call out from a good few steps away.
“Nothing to worry yourself over, old timer,” one of them grunted. “Just staying vigilant against the kingdom’s enemies.”
“Well, that is exactly what I would be worried about,” Rhys muttered under his breath but loud enough they would still hear for the most part. “Does that mean a cheaper toll, since there be dangers about?”
“Just go in,” the same knight waved them through, not even bothering to check anything else or collect a fee as would be customary around these parts. It did not escape Rhys that their sniffers had been staring intently at them the whole way, then whispered something to his squadmates which made them all relax.
They clearly did not expect any mages to get by them undetected. Over-reliance tended to lead there, though it was still a bit strange. Knights would have better things to do than admit outsiders - and not collecting fees was a tad off. Almost as if their leadership was expecting some particularly unpalatable travelers to pass through the region…
Soon enough, they were through the gate and in the middle of busy midday streets. Rhys quickly located a more isolated alley where they could talk, intently not mentioning that the puddle not far from them was most definitely semi-fresh vomit. He assumed Beatrice would not appreciate knowing.
“It really worked,” the newt whispered with some wonder. She also still seemed a bit shaken from the closeness to the knights. Maybe she wouldn’t even care about the contents of the floor, though no need to test that.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Remember, reapply a dab on your navel every two hours or after extended contact with water,” Rhys reminded instead, tapping the vial of ointment at his own side. Then he took out a small pouch, quickly placing it into her hands. “Now go get yourself a bath and some better travel clothes. Still a long way to Florencia.”
“Will I be fine… by myself?” she looked at the street they had come from suspiciously.
“Just be polite and it will be fine,” Rhys shrugged. “Towns this size rarely even have real thieves. Highly unlikely there is actually so much as a single proper cut-throat running around.”
“I was thinking about the knights!” she exclaimed wide-eyed.
“You have the ointment for that,” was the necromancer’s answer. “Anyway, unwind and enjoy - briefly.”
He then unceremoniously turned around and left her standing in the middle of the street. She sputtered, then looked down at the little pouch of gold he had put into her hand. She hesitated for a while longer but when she saw no sign of him anywhere, Beatrice decided to head off. Just in case, Rhys still followed her until she - after a surprising number of awkward conversations with the townfolk - found a decent enough inn.
Satisfied, he went to buy a new backpack and plentiful food and water for the rest of the journey. It would be on the heavier side for the moment but Rod would thankfully have no qualms taking over most of the weight once they reunited. Afterward, he himself had to figure out who might sell beginner’s alchemy sets. To his pleasant surprise, he quickly found the town actually had an actual concocter!
At first, Rhys had expected a half-competent herbalist given the ban on mages. But that idea was dispelled once he had actually approached the store. Because it was heavily warded. Much like Rhys’ own concoctions hid him and the newt from being sniffed out, the store was hidden from being perceived by those less skilled with the sixth sense. Very well so, actually.
But while Rhys could not smell anything, he had refined the other parts of that sense enough to recognize the magic at play. And whoever had wielded it had to be decently competent at the very least. He briefly considered just turning around and leaving but a fellow mage hiding from persecution would not be eager to cause a ruckus by fighting. Perhaps it was an opportunity to figure out what the whole regicide thing was about. All his two sources so far had not seemed the most informed.
Rhys stepped into the store - called ‘Tinks and Concoctions’ by the sign - a bell ringing as he opened the door. “Hello,” he added belatedly, spotting the mage who had to own it. Dressed as ordinary townfolk, all basic cotton or simple leather. The kind of person that would not stand out, seeming maybe thirty with a black goatee and not much else to mention.
The man tensed, clearly recognizing Rhys’ own nature at a glance. Well, much like Rhys had not been fooled by the disguised wards, neither had been his new acquaintance. There was a twitch as the Change sharpened, almost on instinct. Versed in battle, Rhys judged impassively. The man wouldn’t have that edge around him otherwise.
“Should I turn the sign to closed?” The necromancer asked. There were no customers in the store at the moment. “I expect we will talk for a while.”
“Please do,” the man nodded tensely but did not move to actually do anything hostile. Rhys did as he had suggested, then returned inside the store. The two of them stared at each other, judging silently. The man was understandably nervous, given the sudden encounter.
“To simplify the confusion, I have come hoping to trade,” so the necromancer tried to clarify.
“Holy shit, Rhys?” the man suddenly spoke, eyes widening in surprise.
“Sorry, have we met?” the necromancer was equally caught off-guard. He looked over the face again, trying to recall if he had seen it before, but to no avail. There were too many visages to go through.
“Well, yes briefly… I can see why you wouldn't remember,” the man said, tension leaving his body for the most part. “Wait, let me get you a stool and something to drink. Wine?”
“Whatever is local,” Rhys shrugged. The still unnamed man disappeared in the back and quickly returned with two small chairs, then he left again to come back with a pitcher of the promised wine. “Well, it doesn’t get more ‘here’ than the town’s brewery. I will be dammed, you might be the last person I would expect.”
“I have no idea where you would rank on such a list,” Rhys replied. “Where have we met again?”
“50 years ago, Granimbar’s Great Fair in Florencia,” the man replied.
“The meeting of Covenants,” Rhys nodded, recalling those events. That narrowed things down a lot. Thinking back at the time period he did actually recall a familiar face. Well, mostly. “You look younger… ah, you were chasing the recipe for a philosopher’s stone at the time, I recall. I take it that means you have had some success.”
“Well, you yourself don’t look over 90 either,” the man nodded. “Barely a few years older. That’s why I remembered you, actually. You had sold me a tome describing how to distill Perpetual Motion into semi-physical form, which led to my breakthrough. Not quite immortality yet but I am halfway there. I might be just a few more steps away from true success.”
“Hmm, I might stop by at some point to compare notes,” Rhys nodded, seeing the expectation in the man’s eyes. “I happen to be a bit busy at the moment. You could help me wrap things up faster by answering a few questions. Such as what the whole assassination is about.”
“Heavy topic,” the man nodded. Rhys still had no idea what his name was and thought it might be too late to ask without sounding rude. He had clearly left a stronger impression than the other way around. “Well, the king was murdered by magic in front of the whole court. Showy too: Black vines bursting from inside the body as the boy screamed. Not a pretty sight that.”
“And the court mage was supposedly framed,” Rhys nodded.
“Well, who knows,” the man shrugged. “I don’t think Markus would have done it but he could have - the nobles certainly say he had. Their Covenant had been playing high politics for a while so someone is probably somehow involved or at least knows more. Though if you figure out who did it, give them a curse for my old laboratory. I had only managed to get half the equipment out before I had to flee from the knights.”
“It seems you were far more inconvenienced than me,” Rhys inclined his head empathetically. “I am sure there could be a colon sealing for your sake if I stumble into the truth. On that note…”
The nameless man was a good conversation partner and knowledgable enough they could even talk some magic. Rhys had thus stayed a bit longer than he had originally intended but left armed with a somewhat up to date knowledge of the Covenants in Florencia and what individual mages to look out for - if any could even be found after going to ground.
And also with a novice’s alchemy set in pristine condition. Rhys had even received it as a gift, the other mage very eager to entice him into returning for mutual research when times were less trying. Rhys quickly walked to the tavern he had left Beatrice at, pleasantly surprised to find her just returning from shopping. Finding the newt by her magic would not have been hard but it was still nice to avoid such chores.
Besides the new, much less worn, clothing there had been another rather striking change. Because her dirty ginger had apparently been exactly that - unwashed. Perhaps even deliberately sullied to be significantly less striking. Looking at her in the afternoon’s light, Beatrice’s hair had become burning, fiery crimson after she had her bath. Well past orange and properly into the realm of carmine. Not the kind one got to see on just any village girl.
Well, Rhys thought. I think we can safely cross out merchant’s daughter, Roderick.