A castle set upon a small hill, the general construct of wood and stone. It's defining feature is it's central tower, which in inverse to what one would expect, is the shortest tower of the castle. For in the castle's construction, it was literally built into the hill, the tower extending down inside of it. It's purpose was twofold, for the magic utilized by the mage who once was stationed here so that he could acquire more magic, and so that his research would disturb the rest of the castle. The research he was doing was nothing of world shaking importance, merely on ways to better understand how mana could affect a population, as it was with everyone.

That is how mana is, ever present, seeping into people without their knowledge. It served no function for them, less they were a magical creature or one with the ability to sense it. Think of it as a limb you possess but without any ability to 'feel' it, and even when told you have it you haven't any idea on how to use it. To use it, one needs to feel it, knowing it is there within them and that it is something they can use.

Alas magic has much still left understood, even the mages of the Great City of Alberra whom have the respect of all who practice magic admit there is much they do not know. What is known, however, is not to be trivialized, for it holds great power, such that a single mage is stationed for every castle for the Lindol Kingdom, as a sign of power and deterrence. It is to be further exemplefied as a single castle is in charge of the defense of many villages and a few cities. This is because of the might of a single mage, capable with enough preparation to thoroughly annihilate a good portion of any army without its own magical protection. Which the Lindol Kingdom has no fear of, as they educate and employ all mentionable mages in this portion of the world, however minor in the grand scheme of it all.

Yet the Mage's Quarter of this castle does not house its original occupant who would still be rather healthy for his age at this time.

This castle is that of Count Horth, he who governs the defense of innumerable villages of various sizes, and the two cities of Vella and Irlow. The guards, however, are rather mechanical in their movements, an unsettling quiet resting over it all. All that can be heard is the occasional cry of a bird, always emitting a feeling of loneliness. The top of the central tower lies Count Horth's office, presently occupied by him and a crooked man.

The silence permeated in the room as well, till broken by Count Horth.

"I can't provide you any more specimens at this time, as it is not of a great concern for me at this time. I'm already benefitting greatly by your actions and do not wish to find myself at the King's order to be executed by further delving into your black arts."

The crooked man lifted his head, staring towards the Count, his body shaking. It began to shake more, and more, till a sound could be heard that could be called laughter, if only by those of evil repute. To all else, good or at the very least not too far on the opposite side of the spectrum, it was a grating squeal that rather than get louder simply became faster.

The Count grew very concerned about this, his eyes slitting, having believed the man before him to cower and meekly leave, for despite not being a mage Horth was quite adept at fighting them and was outfitted at all times in magical protection. So when the mage in front of him began to laugh, it put him on edge.

Finally, after what felt like ages yet was merely ten seconds, the mage replied.

"Ye' not be rid of me, foolish boy, already havin' let me in. You can not stop what I have begun, and it will be seen to the end. Already you are powerless, believing that I would be subservient."

Horth leaped into action, drawing his sword and cutting down the mage before him. Or, at least, that was what should have happen. It, however, did not. No, he merely remained sitting before the crooked mage, sweating as he could not control his own body except to speak.

"What have you done to me, no magic should be able to touch me, not with magical protection granted to this armor by a Royal Magician himself!"

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The crooked mage gave a crooked smile.

"Those idiots couldn't stop a fart from me, to believe their half ass protections could stop my magic is an insult. For that, I believe it's time to silence your tongue."

Horth could no longer even speak, having lost all control over his body, his mind working fast trying to figure out what went wrong....it all started with the stationed mage here, and his mysterious affliction...

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the Mage's Quarters, specifically the bedroom which housed a king sized bed that would put a nobles to shame including Count Horth's own, laid in it the stationed mage of the castle, a sir Hervault. Despite the nature of mages to be highly unsociable for they prioritized their magic over that of their relationships, Horth and Hervault were good friends, having shared many a drink together.

This was not a time of merriment for the two however, for Hervault's magic no longer worked and his body began to shrivel and die. This condition was entirely unheard of by Horth, and even more surprisingly by Hervault himself, having mana and its effects as his area of expertise in the research field. Unable to contact the Royal Magicians of the capital city of Eurl1 due to the inability to use magic by Hervault, they could do nothing but hope that the messenger sent to the nearby city of Vella would be able to return with a mage before Hervault's condition went critical.

The time to travel between Castle Levee and Vella was four days, and neither man had much hope. With a wispy smile on his face Hervault addressed Horth.

"Horth my friend-"

A fit of coughing overtook Hervault before he could continue.

"This infernal...weakening is getting to be...very annoying."

Horth smiled at his friends lack of concern about his own condition, but knew he did not believe he would make it.

"Horth, do you remember....when we first met?"

Horth nodden his head, and answered.

"I was in employ as a guard for the Mage's College, and you were a bumpkin from the sticks who some how managed to get to the capital and find out you had the ability to sense mana. Really makes me think this affliction you have now is your luck finally running out!"

Both men laughed at Horth's statement, as Hervault's luck truly was quite good, one time having gotten the consent of two sisters for a night of fun just because his first success with a spell to change his appearance was when showing off to Horth in the street, the ladies in question having arrived after, there for Horth yet quickly taken up by Hervault, not having seen his transformation.

"I'd believe your to make a full recovery, with this reminiscing we're bound to to bring it back from whatever hole it's crawled into, having finally figured out it only was used for you embarking to become a mage and for chasing skirts."

Both men laughed again, though Hervault quickly began to cough once more, and when he was done Horth continued.

"As I said, a bumpkin, who didn't fit in with the other mages due to the difference in upbringing."

Hervault snorted.

"Says the oh so posh...noble Count."

Horth smiled.

"Whether noble or not, a guard of the Mage's College is on equal ground, both in skill at arms and reputation. It wouldn't do for the guards of such an important place to be made inefficient by trivial matters."

"No...not iw ould not..." Hervault gave a small smile.

"And it was because of that, you being a bumpkin, and I being an oh so noble guard, we found oursives in a fist fight in a tavern! My face still feels the pain whenever I touch alcohol.."

Hervault laughed himself back into a fit of couhging, and even then his body shook with spirit. After he recovered, he finished that tale.

"It's not my fault it happened, I don't even remember how it started. I was minding my own business, drinking my liquor and drowning away my woes, when the next thing I know there's a full on bar room brawl, suddenly including me into it. Drunken as I was, foolishly I joined in with glee, and may have punch your own drinking self not too far from where I was. Talking about it still hurting, the punch you sent back at me had me mostly toothless for a week till they finally let me have them healed back at the College. Oh, but it was worth it, when your face lost its color when you saw my mage's robe and patch denoting me as a student of the College. You bout nearly pissed yourself, I do believe!"

"I actually did, just not then. It sorta happened later...when I became more sober I was better able to imagine the consequences to the point the fear was too much."

Once again both men laughed, and this conversation continued long into the day, till both men retired for the night...

A time after Horth left, Hervault unable to fall asleep due to his condition, went still.

His body did not stir, nor did it seem he was breathing.

Only after a period did his body move once more, but it was awkward and uncoordinated. A major change, however, was that the movements no longer seemed to correspond with the health of the body, what should be weak movements of a frail, sickly being were instead filled with determination and vigor.

Clearly, it was not Hervault who was controlling the body...