Several hundred years later....
Ellen woke from her slumber with a start, already sloughing off the remnants of a strange dream. Her sword lay propped up next to her pillow, and she grabbed it reflexively in passing; strapping it to her back as she used a mirror to smooth the night’s sleep from her hair. Her hair was blond, and wavy. Cut to ear length in a popular military style used by mercenaries, and professional soldiers. Her face, originally smooth, and cherubic, had been lined by scars, and pitted by work from a hard, violent life.
“Not like some prissy mage.” she said aloud, satisfied with her appearance. In truth, she didn’t much care what she looked like, but as a mercenary, clients wanted someone who looked professional. The rough and tumble crowd may get hired by units, but clients responded best to someone different. A hybrid of the upper-crust professional types they were used to dealing with in their daily lives, and the stereotype they imagined when thinking of a mercenary. She smiled at herself in the mirror. The civilized barbarian. That’s what she liked to be.
“I think it’s funny you have such a thing against mages when you’re such a powerful magic user yourself.” Her partner said from behind her.
She turned to face him. He was half a head shorter than her, and thin. Not to an unhealthy extent, but he liked to maintain the appearance of frailty. It made opponents assume they should try to overpower him, when speed was his specialty. By the time their powerful strikes connected with the space he had occupied a moment before, their head was already falling from their shoulders.
“Ha! Hey Blaise. I’ve got nothing against magic users. I’ve got something against mages because most of them are pissants who see magic as a way around having to work for what they want.”
He shrugged, and smiled slightly. “Fair enough. You ready to go? We’re meeting a client later, and we should leave soon to get the lay of the land.”
Preparing the room before client meetings was one of the tactics Blaise liked to use to eke more money from the clients. He had found an ancient tome about an old form of mental magic named “psychology” years ago. Ever since then, he had gone on about the importance of “setting up triggers” and “environmental preparation” when establishing new business contacts. Supposedly he could surreptitiously convince them to pay more money this way. Ellen was dubious about his ability to trick people into giving up money they hadn’t wanted to spend, but she liked having the opportunity to check for traps. Mercenaries with reputations tended to attract personal ire from their targets in a way nameless grunts hired from mercenary companies didn’t.
“So who’s the client this time?” She asked Blaise. He was better at dealing with other people, which meant he was in charge of handling the business side of their partnership.
“I’m actually not certain this time. We’re meeting them in that cafe by Macy’s Castle.”
Macy’s Castle had another, more official name, but for the life of her Ellen couldn’t remember what it was. Some past feudal lord had claimed the old ruin, fortified it, and left the old metal lettering intact. Some people claimed it was a relic of the time before the great flame, a disaster hidden in the mists of time that had scoured great swathes of the world. Ancient or not, it loomed over what was otherwise a small castle town in the petty kingdom of Calivern; on the western edge of the American continent.
Ellen looked at him sharply. “I thought we agreed no more anonymous clients? Remember last time?”
Blaise returned her glare with a sheepish expression. “I know, but they’re not actually anonymous exactly. It’s more that they don’t want to reveal their identity until after we sign the standard non-disclosure paperwork, and have it legally notarized. I guess it’s some kind of secret wetwork, and they don’t want their name broadcast.”
“I’m not sure there’s much difference, but fine. Just remember that I told you so when they leave us holding the dagger like last time.”
The pair occasionally took on the more unsavory kinds of work when they were short on money. This included assassinations, and the previous anonymous client had turned out to be a government official who used them to eliminate a rival. He then influenced the investigation, making sure they received the lion’s share of the blame. To this day, they were still wanted in the Kingdom of Idano.
“This won’t be like last time I swear. This will be a proper face-to-face once we sign the confidentiality waiver.”
She sighed, but allowed him to lead the way to the cafe. They were pleased to find no sign of any threats, and Blaise was able to prepare the area to his satisfaction. With that, the pair settled in to wait, both nursing cups of coffee. Nearby, a man and his son were having a very animated discussion about theoretical magic that she had to restrain herself from joining when a voice came from behind Blaise.
“Hello, party of two for Mr. Shadow?” Blaise stiffened, disturbed that he hadn’t heard the man coming at all, but recovered quickly.
“Indeed, mister...?”
“Groghause sir, Jason Groghause. I am a clerk in Mr. Shadow’s employ.”
“Very well then. How would you like to proceed?” Blaise asked, one eyebrow raised.
“If you will follow me, we have prepared a room in the basement of the establishment to allow us privacy while we conduct our meeting.” Ellen didn’t like this man. He claimed to be a clerk, and spoke like an aristocrat; but his posture was one of a trained killer. It was a hand-to-hand defensive stance she recognized from her lifelong study of combat. His eyes scanned their movements, and his surroundings in the same manner as her own. His presence felt like a threat to her.
“That sounds lovely.” Blaise said brightly, not betraying any hint of the irritation Ellen knew he felt at having his preparations foiled.
They followed Jason down into the cellar, pausing a moment as they entered to adjust to the dim light. In the center of the floor space, was a desk. Behind the desk were three chairs, Two more lay in front. The space was lit by a large candle ensconced in a groove within the desk. Jason sat down in the leftmost chair behind the desk, motioning at them to sit in the front two chairs. They did, and he pulled a well-worn leather folder from a drawer within the desk.
“Now, I have here two copies of a standard issue mercenary non-disclosure form. I’m quite sure you are familiar with it, but you may take as much time as you wish to inspect the wording. My clients are prepared to wait.”
It was a test, and both sides knew it. If they took too long reading the document, they risked giving offense to the client, or appearing unsavory. If they didn’t read it at all before signing, the client would likely judge them incompetent, potentially reducing the amount he was willing to pay. Blaise scanned through the document deftly, gleaning the highlights as best he could without spending too much time on any one portion. Finally, he nodded.
“Everything seems to be in order.”
Jason nodded, handing them quill pens, and old-fashioned letter openers. The mercenaries made no comment as they opened gashes on their hands, and dipped the quills into the welling blood. Blood-bound contracts were a time-honored tradition. Any mage worth his salt could track a person via their blood. Ownership was a powerful magic in it’s own right.
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“Lovely, I will be right back.” Jason told them after having waited a moment for the blood to dry. He gathered up the two sheafs of paper, and retreated up the stairs. The duo remained silent. Anything they said could possibly be overheard by a surveillance spell at this point. The clerk soon returned, followed by the man and boy Ellen had seen arguing just prior to relocating.
“May I present to you his grace, Duke Cal Liventius, and his firstborn son, Saran Liventius.”
The duke was a middle-aged man, with brown, salt and pepper hair. His face was lined, but in a way that spoke of laughter. He wore clothes that were well-made, but not ostentatious. If Ellen passed him on the street, she’d likely think him a mid-level merchant. His son on the other hand wore a long black robe like a wizard from a fairy tale. It was complemented by copious eyeliner, and hair that was clearly died jet-black. She could tell because the roots were a bright reddish color. He seemed lean, and low on muscle-mass; though it was hard to tell beneath the billowy robe.
Ellen wondered if he attended court like this, and had to restrain a laugh at the absurdity of the notion. For his part Blaise’s face remained impassive, and inscrutable.
“Greetings to the both of you.” Blaise said, bowing at the waist. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise for us.” The Duke said, nodding. “I’m sure you’re wondering about all the secrecy, so I say we get right to business.”
“Indeed.” Blaise said, neutrally.
The party of nobles sat down in their seats, adjusting themselves for a moment before the duke continued speaking. “As you might imagine, someone of my rank has a number of enemies. People who disagree with my policies, or think my seat should be theirs.” The mercenaries nodded silently. “Well, I’ve recently gotten wind of an assassination plot against my son. That is; information, but no proof. You see the king’s half-sister Emerilla has a claim upon my title. Saran is my only child, and were he to fall, she would have a very high chance of inheriting when I die. Aside from my personal stake in this matter, she is already counted as Duchess of another county. Were she to consolidate power in such a way, and handle the politics of the matter correctly, she could conceivably usurp the king himself.”
The mercenaries remained silent. They were both familiar with the dark workings of internal politics, and knew they had nothing to contribute on the matter. “All of this is leading up to your mission. I need you to escort my son to the University of York, and act as his guards there while he finishes his education. The king has decreed that all nobles must receive a formal university degree before they are considered adults. By sending him to York, on the other side of the continent, he will hopefully be safe from her machinations. From there, we have plans to ensure proper succession once he becomes a legally recognized adult.”
The mercenaries nodded. It was a sensible plan. Blaise began to discuss payment, when Jason shut him down. “Before we get to that, we require information from you. We know your reputations, but you are so well-traveled, it has been difficult to track down verifiable records on your abilities. To put it bluntly, we wish to know what we are purchasing from the standpoint of hard facts.”
Blaise nodded. “Ellen is a Spell-Blade, accredited by the mercenary guild, and one of the top three in the guild in terms of ratings. Besides that she has devoted her life to all manner of martial disciplines, and picked up or invented a number of spells not contained within the official spell-blade curriculum. You can understand, we do not give out specific details on such things freely, as information is the greatest weapon. For myself, I am the top-rated Shade in the entire mercenary guild, and skilled in the relevant techniques. I also have masters degrees in medicine, magical theory, and molecular physics. If I pursued it as a career, I would likely be a more highly accredited teacher than most of the professors at our destination. Individually, we are rated as being equivalent to a small platoon of regular troops each, and together our different skill sets multiply that exponentially. All of this information is of course on-record at the mercenaries guild, but our files were sealed due to our high rankings. If you have the proper consent forms, we will of course sign for consent to view them.”
The Duke’s son voiced his opinion for the first time, scoffing derisively. Blaise raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Something I might clarify for you young sir?”
“Battle magic? Really? That’s all you bring to the table?” The young man said.
“I would hardly say that is all we have. We also wield martial prowess, and considerable experience in our fields.” Blaise replied, the irritation cracking his professional veneer.
“It’s just… so old-fashioned. Like, there are just so many better ways to do things these days.” The Duke’s son replied haughtily.
“Indeed? I assume you practice something you deem better?”
Saran smiled widely. “Hit me with whatever spell you want. See what happens.”
Blaise looked to the Duke, who had his head buried in his hand. Next to him, Jason rolled his eyes, and nodded. It was clear this wasn’t the first time they had had this particular argument. Blaise turned, and nodded at Ellen, who’s magic was better suited to the task. Saran smiled widely at her, encouraging. She looked at him consideringly for a moment, raised a hand, and fired a small snowball directly at his face. The air around him distorted for a moment as it got close, only to disappear. A moment later she startled as she felt a rough impact against the back of her head.
“See? Isn’t Spacial Magic better? It’s so much more mana efficient too. Rather than wasting all my energy on big attacks, or swinging a sword around, I open up a little tear, and the enemy gets their own attack back.”
Ellen looked at him for a moment, unspeaking. She held one hand to the side under the table, while the other remained where it had been. Silently, her hand to the side casted another snowball and her primary hand casted one directly at his face a moment later. The first snowball arced around the desk as if guided by an invisible hand; while the more obvious one streaked toward him, drawing his attention. He smiled confidently right until the moment where the guided snowball smacked into his leg. She had added harder snow to this one until it was more solid, almost ice. He exclaimed loudly “ow what the-” right before the other snowball impacted his face, his attention having been drawn away from his spell. To her amusement his father whooped with joy, laughing heartily. Saran narrowed his eyes.
“Best two out of three.”
She nodded. This time she casted a snowball toward his face, and then immediately whipped her other hand around, casting one behind her head. Saran’s eyes widened, but he was too late as the snowball she had cast behind her flew through the tear in reality. It impacted wetly against his face, and a moment later the other one did as well. His father was nearly falling out of his chair with laughter at this point, clapping with applause. Even Jason was looking away, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin behind his hand. Ellen turned and nodded her head at him.
“It’s not a bad spell, but it’s what we call a gimmick spell. A gimmick spell only works once. If the enemy survives then it loses its value. Use it twice against the same enemy, and anyone worth their salt will find a way around it. Or they’ll turn it against you like I just did.”
“Whatever.” He said sullenly, and he used his magic to create a visual distortion around himself, making it impossible to see his face.
The duke wiped his eyes, regaining his composure. “I’m sorry, it’s just you have no idea how long we’ve been listening to him brag about how superior Spatial Magic is, and how the other schools are just soooo outdated. It’s good to see him taught a lesson for once.”
Ellen smiled at him, and nodded; doing her best to honor her agreement to let Blaise do the talking. For his part, Blaise smiled a predatory grin.
“If you wish, we would be happy to continue teaching him as we travel in exchange for say an extra thirty percent? We might even throw in some of Ellen’s homemade spells if we feel he is up to learning them.”
The Duke sobered for a moment when he mentioned money. “Make it twenty-five percent, and you will teach him the spells the moment it’s not dangerous for him to learn them. I won’t have my son becoming overly reliant on the protection of others.”
Blaise nodded. “A wise precaution. Very well, we accept.”
What Blaise and Ellen both knew, was that they would have done it anyway. The most difficult part of any escort job was always the client. A client who was incompetent at defending themselves was not only more vulnerable, but also made poor tactical decisions in life-threatening situations. Given that they were facing a long-term guard, and escort mission, they would have done anything to reduce the burden on themselves. Even teaching custom-made shield spells for free.
Jason interjected at this point. “We will of course check your credentials as you have stated them.”
The Duke nodded, and spoke. “Other than the formalities, consider yourselves hired.”
That decided, the group disbanded, the mercenaries leaving while the Duke attempted to talk his miserable son out of hiding.