“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”
- Allen Saunders
Magister Illimen regarded his long-term friend and colleague Calvin Ambrose. The younger man was nearly bald with a fringe of brown hair sprinkled with gray, he was not a large man and had a scholarly build devoid of the muscles that define even wizards who pursue the art of war. But his eyes were a deep, piercing blue and held a sharp intelligence that had first attracted the Magister’s attention. From a gifted protege, he had matured into a professor in his own right. His face now was more lined than in his days learning at the academy, now he rarely smiled in public and he had a reputation as being harsh but fair.
They had known each other near on twenty years now and there was no one Illimen trusted more.
Calvin cleared his throat. “We have a formal call to council. I would bet my first edition Eremeus that it is the work of Grenzwald and his cronies. What do you think they intend?”
Drathur Illimen, magister of the Academy of the Arts and chairman of its council, stroked his beard and answered, “I think they will try to harm either my reputation or my personage or both. The vector this time and the last as you might remember are the students themselves. And this time it vexes me greatly because they have some arguments on their side which I can’t – yet- refute.”
He stood up. They had both sat at the massive desk in Illimens study, the shelves full of scrolls and paraphernalia. Even in the daytime, the dark wood gave everything an aura of aged refinement but also darkened the room. Grabbing his half-filled tumbler with an amber-colored liquid he went to stand before the great window. “I have sent some inquiries by Shadeling. The rune-sparrow would not suffice for such a distance. Alyssa and her friend are from beyond the Erbor peaks, one from Firswending and the other Saintscrossing.” He pointed to a map that was held open with a bottle of whiskey and a piece of dark bread.
He sipped from the whiskey and continued, “What I could gather is that Alyssa killed the scion of the local potentate, a viscount, who may or may not have been in a brothel as he met his end. Her father is a notorious drunk even though he is said to be a capable foreman and was, at this time, visiting said establishment. Several possibilities suggest themselves. But the death of the young man was without a doubt caused by void energies. We have a report by the church of Ielenia and for all the self-righteousness they suffer from, they do not normally lie about such things. It would not be...pure.”
He sighed. “And that my dear friend is the problem. I think that after what we know she did since coming to Margrinar she most likely defended herself. It makes the most sense. So, in the best case, we have a case of self-defense with lethal results by an untrained user of void magic. I think they will try to curry favor with the church of Ielenia, damage me, eliminate a so-called ‘low-born’ and raise their own standing.”
Calvin smiled. “And you will not do what is expedient and rational.”
“You make it sound as if I was unreasonable.” Drathur laughed.
“Hardly, but stubborn and vengeful does characterize you well. No, don’t argue.” The other mage interrupted the magister as soon as the latter drew breath.
“Guilty as charged. They killed Zephyra, you know they did. She was a gifted summoner, a prodigy you see only once in a generation. She was low-born and she showed some of those noble scions up on the dueling field, she did not accede to demands and threats to become a mistress or servant and even as we protected her in the academy, once she set foot outside the walls she was killed in a ‘robbery gone wrong’. As if a graduate of this academy would not at least manage to protect her own life against a common burglar. Laughable. They did not even try to hide it!”
“I think we would be well served to stack the cards a little.” Calvin looked pensive. “You will continue to investigate her past. And I will...I think it is time for another Exhibition of the Arcane. If she is as gifted as you claim her to be she can showcase her talents and if that is not enough…We could hold a tournament. Magical might is still seen as one of the greatest assets a noble of Margrinar should have, going all the way back to our sunken magocratic fatherland. So, your facts and my attempts at swaying public opinion, and everything should take place before they get to hold a council. Good thing that two of our councilors are at the court of the Lord of Nar-Holm, the realm of Cyclopes, it will take them some time to get back. What do you say?”
“Accepted. Pour me another one will you.”
Standing with his back to his friend, one arm folded behind his back the other presenting the tumbler for a refill Drathur Illimen looked out onto the courtyard and remembered another young girl with straw blond hair and a stubborn personality.
‘I have become a teacher to mold the best and brightest magicians, not to let politics and classism devour them.’
“As always, it is a pleasure to hold discourse with you, Calvin.”
A sparrow flew through the glass of the window and alighted on the forearm of Mr. Ambrose.
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Meanwhile at the inn near the grand market plaza.
“Could you pass me the water please?” Lieseleta smiled at Alyssa.
They sat together in the private room of the inn they had left their coaches at. The room was airy and brightly colored, a large window led to the small garden behind the main building and showed ivy-hung masonry, a dry water fountain, and a small vegetable patch.
In the center of the room was a large table fit to seat at least a dozen people. The girls had congregated on one end with the princess and Alea in the middle, much to the latter's chagrin.
“Here you are. Thank you for coming with us and showing us around. No one of us is familiar with the city yet and I think we would have wasted a lot of time or worse but for you.”
“I concur. The Breach is much smaller and even though we get a lot of people for our fall festival it cannot begin to compare.” Vivienne gave a half-smile.
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“Alyssa, is Cyrus truly your familiar?” Lieseleta asked. “I don’t doubt it, but isn't that rather complicated magic for a self-taught first year? I don’t mean anything by it, I am simply curious.”
“Yes we had a turbulent journey to come here, and on the way, I had the misfortune to witness an attack by a full-grown wyvern and later, in the company of Mireille, stumbled on the cave she had used to lay her eggs. I don’t know how that happened. And I have some very specialized knowledge of old elven spells. One of them fit the situation perfectly.”
“That is quite something. I was warned severely against making the first cute cat to catch my fancy my familiar. It is a temptation, they live quite a bit longer afterward and even gain a semblance of sentience while also stabilizing your soul and helping with magic.” The princess looked troubled. “A cousin did just that, and someone, I guess we will never know poisoned her familiar, a cat, she suffers to this day and her magic never was the same again.”
She looked apologetic. “Sorry, I am really in a good mood today and even so, something comes up and I think about such things! Please don’t let me ruin your lunch!”
Alyssa hugged Cyrus. “I think he might be a bit more resilient than a cat, but I understand your concern. I was warned as you have been, but it is a bit different with him I think.”
“In the Breach, it is not unheard of to bind a shark or even a killer whale. It prohibits you from ever leaving the shores of the sea, but some don’t want that to begin with.” Vivienne mentioned.
“I don’t think I can manage the spells?” Mireille asked. “Or is there one that is nearly all lightning?”
“No, you shouldn’t attempt that. I don’t think anyone ever has.” Alea looked a bit concerned. “If you ever feel the inclination come and see me that I might dissuade you!”
The food was plentiful and contained spices the two girls from Rivenlorn had never eaten before.
“What is this?” Mireille looked to be in heaven as she bit into a piece of cake with brown frosting.
“It's cinnamon. It grows in hot and slightly humid regions. There is a chain of large islands in the southern Sea of Origin that is mostly inhabited by a mix of human refugees, even if you should no longer call them that after the centuries it's been and some lizardman tribes.” Lieseleta smiled as she recalled the facts. “It is described as a very beautiful region but difficult to reach. The people there have pacts with all sorts of deep-sea creatures helping with the navigation of the ocean. Sometimes they turn to piracy though the council that rules them disavows their actions.”
Alea took a dainty bite and a smile showed her enjoyment. The spider turned towards the princess and the girl said, “Do you want to accompany us to the townhouse of my family in Ivy Terraces?”
“Sadly I won't have the opportunity. There is an event hosted at the palace and my presence is mandatory even though I will not get to do much. It's something I have resigned myself to. But thank you for inviting me, I would like to postpone that, how about the next weekend?”
“That should be fine.” Alea smiled a bit bashfully. “You would naturally be invited too.” Remembering the other occupants of the table she hastened to add.
“I don’t know yet, but I will get back to you on Monday. Is that sufficient?” Vivienne was pensive for a moment. Valens simply looked to his sister for guidance and then nodded along.
The meal came to a close and everyone said their goodbye. The half-elf siblings would accompany them to the townhouse where the trio of girls would disembark and Adam would then drive them back to the academy.
Ivy Terraces was quiet as usual and there were only a few servants going about their business. They got off the coach and waved to the departing vehicle before turning and going inside.
Mireille looked anticipatory. “Vanessa wanted to come again tonight, did I have that right?”
“She said as much. I am looking forward to it too. I have some questions.” Alyssa grinned at her friend.
Alea shook her head. “Do you think she knows something other than void and necromancy?”
“She mentioned that it was not even her focus of study, she was a...what was it? Arcanist? And she did say, that she dabbled or had some proficiency in ice and poison spells.” Alyssa tried to remember.
“That sounds like it could be interesting. Arcane magic is something that is most useful in large-scale magics or altering existing enchantments. Much was lost in the destruction of our homeland. It was simply seen as less important for short-term survival.”
“Puh, my feet hurt. Is there an enchantment for preventing blisters?” After they had reached Alea’s room Mireille took off her boots and rubbed the smarting soles while sitting on an upholstered chair.
“There should be. But the expense would probably preclude its use other than for a very affluent person.” Alea looked a bit amused at the question.
Alyssa had occupied the small couch near the window and stretched like a cat. Cyrus lay down on her lap to sleep. He was nearly too large for her shoulder now, some weeks or months later and she would have a problem. And sadly her own body grew at a snail's pace. ‘Perhaps with the good food around here I will get my desired growth spurt.’ The white-haired girl wistfully imagined.
After eating dinner they soon retired to Alea’s room again. Her quarters were larger than the other two guest rooms and the furniture was much more suited for the smaller girls than the standard fittings the other rooms contained.
A cloud of mist obscured the entryway and out of the haze strode Vanessa. She wore the much-too-large cloak and a dress that was more her size in dark blue and grey. Her blue-white hair hung loosely to her hips and the eyes, which reflected light like a cat’s, glowed in a blue-green tone. “Dû vaer. Good evening.”
“Vanessa! Good to see you. I hope everything is well.” Alyssa smiled brightly at her.
“Yes it's been mostly uneventful, but I must caution you. There are people in this city who both know of me and my kind and are actively hunting me. I don’t think that I am in much danger at the moment, and thankfully it is not a religious institution who could draw upon specialized support.”
They had much to catch up on.
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Meanwhile.
The cavalry uniform had been immaculate but for the three drops of crimson soaking darkly into its collar. “Ah, a damn shame, it is so hard to get the last bit of stain out of the fabric.” The obese human cleaned his mouth with the back of his right hand streaking his cheek with red. A dead male human in his twenties lay before him on the stony ground blood seeped out of his torn throat. It was nighttime and the uniformed man was standing behind a large house probably a brothel from the sounds coming from the upper floors and the commotion coming from the taproom. It seemed to be a busy night.
The man called ‘Hunter’ stood beside and behind the vampire, his companion the female dwarf was not with him today. A man with a mask made of stiff cloth and red robes reaching to his ankles looked down on the dead figure with disdain visible in his posture if not his hidden face.
“He tried to deceive you, my lord. And I had thought him to be above such stupidity. A shame.” The robed man spat on the corpse.
“Now, now. He has suffered for his crime. The slate is now clean. Please relay my best wishes to his widow and children. They will have his blood money for all the years he did serve me well. Poroskar. Do we have a lead?” There was impatience and a desperate eagerness in his voice, well hidden, but present nonetheless.
“Hunter?”
“We nearly got to her, the night before last, but she escaped. We think she might have had some business at the von Graufurt manor. But she has not been there for days now.”
“Von Graufurt? I remember Poroskar you mentioned something about some girl affiliated or from that family going to the academy with your nephew?”
“Yes, my lord, that is indeed the case. I gave you an overview because you always look for new customers that could be made pliable to your will.”
“Please ask your nephew to get close to them. I want to know more about them. Do they have a connection to this vampire girl? And do take out the trash.” The last was said while gesturing toward the deceased.
Silence reigned into which the noise from the inn intruded, shutters poorly latched in the upper stories rattled with a breeze, and underneath it all the splashing of water coming from the wharves along the river.
It was all in all a typical night in Kronenburg.