“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter, and the Half-Blood Prince
Carmen of Perrilen Heights tried to smooth the perpetual wrinkle between her brows and sighed deeply. The room before her was the deepest chamber underneath the academy's main hall and the security was tight. The room was perfectly circular with a diameter of fifteen meters and a height of nearly twenty. Six crystals larger than the head of a full-grown ogre adorned the walls and represented a significant fraction of the wealth contained in the Academy as a whole, flawless mana jewels that they were.
She wore her customary black dress with a high collar decorated with a choker bearing a large opal, hands clad in long dark gloves. Her ebony hair was pulled back with a band of silver exposing her pale face flickering in the unsteady light.
Beams of coruscating power flashed between the poles and crossed in the middle over an array of intricately carved magical circles. Even a mundane untrained person fresh off the streets would have tasted the magic in the air and possibly been able to wield some instinctive magics but that was neither the cause for her growing dissatisfaction nor the reason she was here.
Black tendrils flashed in the bright energy and gave the light a sickly-grey touch.
“Can we do something to speed the decay of this void contamination?” An older man with his long grey hair tied in a long knotted braid leaned on a stone balcony overlooking the room and frowned in concern.
“Use less magic. If you use the more common elements you deplete them, not significantly, mind. But it might be enough to respectively strengthen the void corruption. Void use could possibly help but with the dark energies gathered at the site of the Exhibition we could be unlucky and draw on it like a lamp with a wick draws on the oil. And it disperses more quickly in the wild under the light of the sun than back here in the ley-line network. Each time you draw on ambient mana not channeled by a gate you also risk infusing your body with void.”
“The cleansing wards around the infirmary are working well at least.”
“Small blessing that that is.” Carmen coughed and shook her head weakly.
“Are you alright?”
“I will be. Missed sleep and even more work will do that to you.”
A low thrumming sound hung in the air and a distinct reek of ozone tickled their nostrils.
“Let us depart, we will gain nothing more by observing the phenomenon.”
“Who would have thought that the geomantic formation of fortune and prosperity could lead to such terrible results.”
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Mireille knocked on the simple wooden door. She had become so accustomed to the relatively high-class Wisteria Dorm that she was sort of surprised to see such a common house nestled a ways from the Academy in a small dell.
‘Mh, is it snobbery to think that or am I becoming used to luxury as I always intended? Maybe both?’ Mireille grinned a bit at that and entered the room without waiting for an invitation.
The room was relatively tidy and clean containing two beds as well as one desk and chair. At the moment only one bed was in use and a small head wreathed by dark brown hair that framed a pale face still tanned from all the hours spent practicing outside. Her head sported a bandage as well as her shoulder and hand. Without her energetic personality, she seemed somehow smaller lying here like that.
“Paula! Wake up, I got some cake fresh from the kitchen!”
Paula nearly fell off the bed as she was startled from sleep and had to calm her breathing after seeing Mireille present her with a largish piece of cake.
“What are you doing?”
“Bringing you cake!” After seeing the incomprehension in the still sleepy girl's eyes Mireille continued, “And I wanted to see if all was well. I heard you were wounded.”
“You had some pretty serious cuts too. I was not nearby but I saw how you finished that wight.” Paula became more energetic and then winced in pain as she made a wrong move.
“Sorry for startling you but getting cake at this time was a lot more difficult than you might think.”
Paula laughed before this caused some of her bandages to shift and she flinched. “I’m mostly okay. The hand is what worries me the most. Could you ask Alea to have a look?" she looked a bit uncomfortable asking that before she continued more energetically, "She has become quite famous after her stunts with light magic. What happened to her by the way. The light pillar and then healing the sick, is she a saint or what?”
“Mh. How did you know?” Mireille looked honestly interested.
“What?!”
“She has been blessed in a big church. Was some god of mystery. There are so many I cannot be bothered to remember them all. Only Nirileth is worthy of my time.” She looked pious.
“Jaros.”
“That’s the one.”
“That explains it. You don’t have any normal friends do you?” She smiled and then became glum all of a sudden, “Beside me I suppose.”
“You are not ordinary in the least. You like sparring with me and give me a real workout every time. That’s no mean feat especially with my lightning magic becoming better and better.”
Paula struggled into an upright sitting position and looked at her friend. Mireille was clothed in the normal first-year student’s robes carrying her degen belted at the hip, the red hair fell nearly to the middle of her back and her freckled face was no longer as youthful as it had seemed at the start of the semester. Her cheeks were somehow thinner giving her a more adult look. And did she have a growth spurt lately? Her sleeves seemed too short as well as the hem of her robes. Her light grey-green eyes seemed to hold a spark of lightning as of a few weeks back. She rarely noticed this consciously but the energy seemed more prominent since the last time she had really looked.
“You look like a young warrior maiden.” Paula praised.
Mireille pushed out her chest, one arm behind her back looking proudly down her nose at her friend. “Good that you know!” Laughing she quit her posing and grabbed a knife cutting the cake in two. “Here- have at it.”
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“Isn’t that my cake?!” Paula looked alarmed as the sizable piece was reduced to barely acceptable levels.
“Couriers fee! You are well enough that you have no need of a full cake.” With a mischievous grin, Mireille bit into and swallowed half her piece.
Paula, not to be outdone, hastily began to eat too and had to fend off the hungry Mireille as she grabbed for the last crumbs. “Hey! That’s mine! I’m still injured and need the food to heal! Rascal away with your hand.”
They joked and talked until Paula became sleepy again and soon a light snore signaled that she had drifted off to sleep.
Mireille tiptoed out of the room shutting the door quietly behind her. Grinning she flipped a coin through the air and whispered, “Thank you night-thief for the excellent opportunity to grab some cake. I will make it worth your while.”
The snow crunched underfoot as she walked back to the Wisteria Dorm, whistling all the way.
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The palace, a study
“Jera what is it?” Lieseleta closed the thick ledger lying before her and turned toward her faithful guardian.
“I have some of the information you requested about the girl that checked the armored undead fighting alongside Carl.”
The princess nodded, “Well, what did you get?”
“She was seen with Alea, Alyssa, and Mireille. She has been with them at least when visiting the alchemy store of Valeria Jangres, a patrol saw her and the guardsman remembered her beauty and that she was an elf. There have been unsubstantiated rumors that as the Reborn made their attempt to oust the old crime lord Vadislav Orpen, she was fighting him. Our royal knights saw a person whose description fits the girl at the scene of the battle in the lower city. Later there have been rumors of two women, one relatively small fighting the blood creatures in the city. And then there was the incident where Alyssa used unusual magics to draw upon the void. She mentioned that a friendly sorceress taught her- Said person was never presented or found.”
“Your conclusion?”
“They are your friends, and she has been on the ‘right’ side when fighting at least for all we know. In addition, she arguably saved your life, the warrior tossed me aside like a sack of flour. She is probably an ally- if one you cannot openly acknowledge.”
“Yes, that should never become public, we depend on the goodwill of the great churches and if there is one thing they cannot accept it is an intelligent, powerful undead.” Lieseleta sighed, “But I don’t want to make an enemy of someone who helped me so much. Should I ask Alea or her friends?”
“Depends on your long-term goals, your highness.”
“Lieseleta or Liese please.” The princess looked displeased.
“As I said you could gain political capital with some of the larger churches, but it would not be as beneficial in a larger sense as you might think. They would find it a matter of course and it would certainly cement your image as a ‘good’ queen but only that. The more important consideration would be that when you were found to be cooperating with an undead then you would lose a lot of trust. I would recommend turning a blind eye without entangling yourself further.”
“An undead saved me.” Lieseleta looked distressed. “The world is stranger than a fairy tale sometimes.”
“On that note when will the funeral and the coronation be?”
“Next week on Gesserach’s day. I will hold the vigil for father and Carl the day before.”
“I think you would do well to honor the commitment made to the Reborn, they can be useful for their connections to the darker side of Kronenburg.”
“I think so too. The coronation should be after the mourning period of one month. Then when I have the crown I will bestow the baronetcy on Kadira. That will cause an uproar I’m sure.”
“Nothing to it, those that will condemn you the most are part of the opposing faction anyway.”
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A cursed mansion outside the city proper
Iseret was playing with her daggers throwing them high into the air and catching them as they fell down, with her reflexes it was relaxing and in no way dangerous. The room they were sitting in was once a salon on the ground floor of the mansion. In the middle stood an old stone table surrounded by rickety chairs that were covered with clean blankets. The table itself was carved with runic formations and on the parts that were not spelled, tools fit for enchanting were meticulously organized.
Vanessa was busy dribbling mana-crystal dust into the receptacles feeding the runic circuits which began to glow with a soft blue light. A monocle inscribed with spell-glyphs sat over her right eye. As she gazed at her half-reptilian friend she frowned.
“Say, you really use unenchanted steel?” Vanessa looked at her questioningly. “Is it for religious reasons?”
“No, I never had the funds on hand, and getting an enchanter to put dangerous spells on weapons used by a ‘snake’ is not as easy as you think. Orpen had a stranglehold on the ones operating beyond the law.”
“And the Reborn don’t have something like this?”
“We do actually, but the person involved is more useful for formations or enchantments protecting your privacy like anti-teleportation charms and such.”
“That would not be helpful in that regard.”
“Are you offering?” Iseret smiled and caught both daggers at the same time sheathing them with a flourish.
“Might as well. You buy the ingredients. I can’t be bothered to acquire funds at the moment.”
“There could be some money in it if you were not averse to enchanting some knick-knacks for my colleagues…?”
“Let us not be hasty, yours first.”
“Thank you.” Iseret winked at her.
“Any news about Alyssa, Mireille, and Alea?”
“They are well. Alea did some mass-healing in the Academy and rumors are making the rounds about her blessing. Some people in the city are petitioning the temple for an introduction.”
“Mh.”
“Lieseleta has some troubles. The nobles that have been opposing the royal faction have taken the death of the king as a signal to increase their activities and there are persons outside the peerage that would use this opportunity to lobby for more rights of representation for the common people. They are citing the free city of Pareus as a role model.”
“That could get ugly. I’m not well-versed in human politics but power is seldom relinquished voluntarily and taking it is a bloody business. I would have hoped that the threat of Ulsolm might serve as a catalyst bringing the factions together.”
“Sadly the fact that the attack failed has made some people complacent, they believe that Ulsolm will have its hands full with Rivenlorn and that the mountains will shield us adequately.”
“They should listen to the reports from Rivenlorn about the undead crossing the unpassable heights.” Vanessa frowned.
“Who reads a report they don’t want to hear.”
“Give me your khopesh.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Make it sharper, let it cut deeper, have it carve through magical shields.”
“You know how to make a lady blush.” Iseret looked at Vanessa coyly causing the elf to look away in embarrassment.
“Stop that!”
Even the vampire's sharp hearing did not notice Iseret’s light steps and suddenly there was a smiling voice whispering directly in her ear, “But you are so adorable when you are embarrassed.”
If she were still living she would have had goosebumps from the warm air blown past her sensitive ears but as it stood her fangs involuntarily lengthened and she hunched her shoulders before turning into mist, reappearing on the other side of the table. “Don’t do that! One of these days I will bite you out of reflex!”
Iseret put on a contrite face and dropped the khopesh on the table. “Sorry about that.” She said unconvincingly.
Vanessa sighed, “Bring me more mana dust and some ground meteorite. I will have it done by the weekend. The enchantment will not be permanent unless you find some really good mana-jewels or the heart of a magical being. You would have to regularly charge it with the dust.”
“That seems to be acceptable, I will see what I can do.”
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Calvin adjusted the half-mask made of leather and a crystalline lens covering the right half of his face. Some lurid scars radiated from underneath giving him a dangerous and somewhat rakish look- expertly made they looked quite real. He wore a leather coat and a vest and dark green trousers. A long warstaff held in a holster at the side of his horse completed the picture of a mercenary sorcerer.
A fading unit insignia that seemed to have been some sort of horned beast adorned the saddle. Snorting the horse bowed his head and stamped its hooves impatiently.
“Whoa, Petal. Calm down.” He patted the lustrous brown flank and the animal quieted down. Jumping into the saddle he gripped the reins steering his mount into the open street and into the foot traffic. Some hour later he left Kronenburg by the west gate and rode along the road bordering the great river. Even as he knew that this could be quite dangerous a grin flashed across his face playing at politics had never been his passion, adventuring, however…he urged his mount into a gallop leaving behind the academy, the royal court, and a whole lot of paperwork.