As the field cleared and the glowing bodies faded, Olivander felt the strain on his body. He hadn't pushed himself like this in years. Even when he had fought against invasion from foreign kingdoms, there had been armies, magicians of all sorts, and even a few other Magi to support him. He could hang back, comfortably crafting rituals of such destructive might that he feared the gods themselves would smite him for the attempt.
Now it was just him. And around four hundred cooking golems.
With the army beaten back, and his golems churning out food at record speed, he felt like he was actually going to make it.
----------------------------------------
Current progress:
* Active Golems: 430 (26/min)
* Destroyed Golems: 53
* Soldiers Fed: 1602/2000
* Gods Fed: 0/1 (0%)
----------------------------------------
With all the food brought to the tables, fewer soldiers were getting back up to come fight. Most were staying back to eat and feast. He caught what little rest he could as the smaller force of soldiers made their way back to him. When they were halfway across the room, he began beating them back once more.
His mana had been drained dry, and he dared not call upon the power of madness again. His grimoire, now a sword, could filter the madness as he drew upon it, but it wasn't perfect. He simply had to rely on the strength of his arm and the keenness of his blade.
Still, his sword proved to be a great boon to the fight. Being able to cast the occasional "Flames of Annihilation" spell kept the horde from advancing.
Every dozen soldiers that he put down, around four stayed behind to eat as the golems continued to bring food to the tables.
A few short minutes later it was over. All the soldiers were eating, cajoling with one another, and generally having a good time.
"Well done, Olivander! You have fed my legion and proved your combat prowess and crafting abilities. Now it is time for the true test of endurance!"
Olivander didn't have enough energy to sigh, but he really wanted to.
The god clapped his hands and the soldiers vanished. The feast table shrank to two places.
"Come, Olivander! Let us feast!"
----------------------------------------
Current Progress
* Soldiers Fed: 2000/2000
* Feasted with the God: 0/1 (0%)
* Join the god of feasts for a meal. Eat until the god is satisfied.
----------------------------------------
Olivander let go of his sword, and it floated around affixing itself to his back. His grimoire usually vanished into its own storage space but that didn't seem to work when the book was a sword. He didn't dismiss the blade form as he didn't know if there would be additional combat.
"Thank you, Barranch. Fortunately, I seemed to have worked up quite the appetite."
"Good, good! Your golems will now be feeding us! Bring forth the food!"
As they had been doing for some amount of time that Olivander could no longer comprehend, the golems brought them trays of food.
There were rolls piled high on plates next to trays of butter and boards full of cheeses and cured meats. They brought a hearty stew. and salads with dressing. One golem put down two mugs and a goblet in front of Olivander — water, wine, and some mead to wash down his meal. There were roasts, and sides, with savory sauces and spicy relishes. There was more than he could ever eat, but when he looked back towards the kitchen, he saw golems bringing more and more food.
"DIG IN!"
Olivander grabbed a turkey leg and the mug of mead. It was time to work.
* * *
Gregory, Cooper, and Jeremy were sitting in the great hall of the House Rhodes manor. Jeremy and Gregory sat on a bench seat at a long table, and Cooper curled up on the floor just behind them. They looked after the nearby, unconscious Wentzle. It turned out Jeremy's powerset was ideal for securely transporting just about anything. That included wounded men and healing ritual circles.
Wentzle floated on a section of floorboards that Jeremy had separated from the floor and levitated after them as they made their way back to the great hall. He looked healthy, but, according to Gloria, was probably still regenerating some lost blood. Wentzle could be unconscious for days while he rested off the intense recovery.
"So you have no idea what happened?" Jeremy asked.
"Nope. I'm not even sure what would have caused his wounds. They were puncture wounds like something bit his neck," Gregory said.
"At least we know it wasn't a vampire. It wouldn't have left him alive. Do you think it was another person?"
"The magic that affected us seemed pretty advanced, so at least a high level spell or skill. The obvious choice seems like one of the people at the party. Do we know what everyone's powers are? Or levels?"
"I have no idea. I only know that I have some transport abilities, and you two aren't strong enough to cast an effect like that. Oh, and I guess Olivander seems to be wrapped up in something else."
"Yeah, I hope he's doing alright. Do you know what a personal trial is, Jeremy? Leviana didn't really explain it to us."
"I've only read about them. Apparently, in order to advance to a legendary combat class you need to undergo a personal trial. It's like a mini dungeon that spawns on top of you. I've also heard a rumor of a similar thing happening when you advance to certain unique non-combat classes, but I've never seen that verified."
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"So Olivander is advancing a class? I don't even know what classes he has. Magus, at least."
"I actually looked into him a bit more after I arrived here," Jeremy said. "We didn't have detailed records on high ranking members out in Demering. Anyway, he has three spellcasting classes, an elemental swordsman class, and a non-combat expert class. He actually is a Platinum adventurer too. There aren't many of those. It's one of the reasons I didn't take him too seriously when we first met — I assumed he was lying."
"Olivander's a swordsman? He taught me a little, but he never actually said he used a sword."
"He has the class at least. His level in each class wasn't in the listing, but he is a platinum level adventurer. I would assume he's not just sitting on a level one class."
Gregory nodded. Elemental Swordsman sounded a little bit like what he had been going for. He'd have to ask Olivander now that he knew that was actually one of his classes.
They stopped chatting as the rest of the rounded up guests re-entered the great hall. Everyone had somber looks on their faces
Leviana and Constable General McKenzie separated and turned to face the assembled people as they gathered near Gregory and his companions.
"We have two problems," Leviana began, her tone grave. "First is that it's clear that someone attempted to kill Wentzle Grumel. I don't want to point any fingers, but we're the only ones in the house tonight. The rest of the family staff were given the night off, and none of my family is in the house.
"The second problem is that we can't leave, or have anyone come in. It seems that our chef is undergoing some kind of personal trial, and we're now trapped within a dungeon zone boundary."
That caused a small stir as the party guests were apparently more familiar with this occurrence than Gregory was.
"A dungeon boundary!?" Reginald said. "What if this chef fails the trial? Should we assist him?"
Reginald was a handsome man, though he didn't have the heroic build of Wentzle. Jeremy had told Gregory that the man was an adventurer by trade. While he wasn't from a notable family, he had been successful enough in protecting the region that he had built up some small fame within the city.
"I'm afraid the man in question is actually former Arch-magus Olivander Casumus. The minimum standard level for the trial is three hundred and seventy-five."
Reginald just stood slack jawed for a moment.
"Ahh..ahem. Of course, I'm sure the Arch-magus can handle himself," he said after a few moments.
"Olivander is an annoying twat, but he can clear a dungeon. We should be focused on this attempted murder," Belethor, the master illusionist said.
"I'm inclined to agree," the Constable General said, stepping forward. "I would like to begin an informal investigation. I'd like to interview everyone present. To keep things honest I'll have Gregory sit in on the interviews. We can all agree that someone as weak as he is couldn't have done this to Wentzle."
"Ouch," Cooper thought, giving Gregory's hand a comforting head nuzzle.
"Yeah," Gregory whispered, "he could have at least pretended I wasn't insignificant."
There were murmurs of agreement with McKenzie that further lowered Gregory's mood. McKenzie waved Gregory forward and then picked out their first interviewee.
"Belethor, why don't you join us first?"
Belethor nodded and followed them into a sitting lounge just off the great hall.
The lounge was richly appointed, with a full bar on one side of the room and countless bottles of various color liquors lining the wall. There were small tables and chairs scattered throughout the space for both dining and lounging.
McKenzie and Belethor sat and got comfortable in a pair of high-backed leather chairs. Gregory pulled up a nearby stool, getting distinctly less comfortable than the older men.
"Belethor," the constable started, "what brings you to this party?"
"Lady Rhodes' father is an old friend. She had known me for years, and thought I could provide some entertainment. She wanted me to teach everyone one of my favorite ritual illusions."
"And what is that?"
"Duplicatie self," Belethor said, and then a duplicate of himself appeared in an identical chair right next to him. "I of course, have a skill for the illusion, but I have spent many years mastering the fundamental aspects of the skill. In doing so I developed a ritual that can be used to duplicate the effect."
"I see," McKenzie said, revealing nothing. "When Mr. Grumel was attacked, several people observed a field of darkness that they could not see through, and seemed to prevent them from moving. Do you have an ability like that?"
"I could duplicate the first effect. Covering people's vision is my specialty. The second effect is not something I can do. It does sound useful though."
"Have you ever heard of an ability that does that? Covers the room in darkness and freezes the ones within."
"It's definitely going to be a skill. Time manipulation rituals are…difficult at the best of times. They're really only possible if imparted directly by a skill."
"Thank you for the information. Do you know of anyone with this ability?
"I don't think so."
The Constable General nodded to himself, then pulled out some paper to take notes.
"Do you know the victim, Wentzle Grumel?"
"I had heard of him, but never encountered him directly. I am a nobleman by birth, but I mostly identify and work as a magician, so I never had any interactions with him."
"Very good, Belethor. Gregory? Anything else you want to ask about?"
Gregory was caught slightly off-guard by his inclusion in the questioning. He froze for a second, but he did manage to think of a question.
"Do you remember seeing anything else odd happening this evening?"
Belethor thought for a moment before responding.
"There was one thing. I caught a whiff of an odd magical signature earlier this evening. It felt like a rotting beast. It may have just been a passing ill creature, but it stuck with me."
"Interesting…Very well. That will be all Belethor."
The illusionist got up and left, leaving Gregory and the Constable General together.
"What did you think?" McKenzie asked.
"It didn't seem like he really had any motivation. If he is a really powerful illusionist and tried to kill Wentzle, I would expect we wouldn't have found a body, alive or not."
McKenzie nodded. "That was more or less my assessment as well. I never really suspected him, but you should cover all of your bases during an attempted murder investigation. We're going to interview everyone, can you go out and grab Jeremy? I want to talk to him next."
One at a time, Gregory pulled the party attendees aside.