Despite the hunger and the unsettling events of the previous night, Xandar's sleep was deep and peaceful. He slept uninterrupted, awakening only to the vibrations rippling through his stomach. He sat up, expecting the cozy presence of Alberon curled beside him, but was met with an empty bed. The cat was perched on his chair, watching him expectantly from across the room, while the rumbling that had disturbed him turned out to be a protest originating from his belly, echoing its emptiness.
“I'll feed you in a moment, Alberon.” Xandar yawned.
The sun beamed brightly that morning, and Xandar relished his walk to the university, pausing to purchase a bag of pastries on his way. He arrived to find Erdrik toiling alone in the dimly lit cellar, arranging small crystals on every desk. A significantly larger chunk of smokey quartz gleamed nearby, waiting to be assigned.
“What are these?”
Erdrik turned with surprise, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Quartzes,” he said. “ I want us to start being mindful of time.”
“To make sure we’re not late?” Xandar asked, with Daernian in mind.
Erdrik pivoted back, positioning the final crystal on a shelf adjacent to Xandar’s desk, the first thing one would notice upon entering the hall.
“I’m not particularly concerned about when you begin your work, as long as it’s within reason, of course. No, this is meant to measure our work hours and task durations,” Erdrik explained.
“So we're supposed to track how much time we spend on each spell?” Xandar frowned. Even novices, let alone experienced wizards, understood that pressing a wizard for a timeframe was preposterous. Spellcrafting often brought about its own share of complications, making queries about completion time just a way of asking for trouble. The typical retort was 'It takes however long it takes', often delivered with a hint of irritation that the wizard didn’t even bother to disguise.
Xandar shuffled uneasily, shifting his weight between feet. “And that would be helpful, you think?” he asked cautiously.
“You tell me.” Erdrik said, poised for yet another speech. “When a request for a new spell arrives, how do we determine the appropriate pricing? It depends on the complexity and the amount of work it takes to construct and test the spell. Having clearer understanding of how long different spells take to complete will help us better estimate, and therefore price our work. This isn’t exclusive to you and Daernian. Myself and Sheila, or anyone else who collaborates with us, will do the same. It's meant to help us, not complicate our lives.”
Xandar silently nodded his comprehension.
“Speaking of Sheila,” Xandar changed the subject abruptly, aiming to steer away from the entire time-measuring fiasco. “Will she be joining our group? You said she was too shy.”
“That's the impression I got, yes. But she also turned out to be the only one to pass my test. But we'll see if she even shows up after last night's little adventure. I’m quite skeptical, to be honest,” Erdrik chuckled, “I mean, that was quite a lot of blood!”
Xandar thought it would have been quite the dramatic entrance had the cellar door burst open right as Erdrik uttered the words, revealing Sheila at the entrance, but it was only after Erdrik had retreated to his office that the door above produced a creak, admitting the sound of careful steps.
Sheila emerged in the hall, her gaze sweeping it hesitantly, as if bracing herself for some impending horror. Erdrik beckoned her into his office, and after a lengthy conversation that Xandar saw no need to eavesdrop on, they emerged, carrying two bundles containing the enchanted weaponry - all but the sword on which the protection spell was cast.
“Tell Daernian to start keeping track of time once he arrives. I'll write down instructions and pin them to the wall when I return,” Erdrik said, pausing by Xandar's desk on his way out. “Also, please make sure he focuses on that protection spell today. I’ll want to take a look at it when I return. No testing in the meanwhile.”
A smile curled on Xandar’s lips when he was left alone. It was not in his nature to gloat, but he had to admit that watching Daernian flutter through his tasks and dance around Erdrik was starting to hit a nerve. He made himself a cup of tea, took his time savoring the sweet pastries - one with his tea, then two more as he worked - and just as Daernian walked in three hours later, he wrote down the time it took him to finally complete his spell on a fresh scroll.
Xandar half-anticipated to be greeted by a smug, cheerful expression from Daernian, but that morning the wizard was not his usual self. Daernian’s hair drooped lifelessly on his head, and a frown stretched beneath the two dark crescents under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days.
“Not hungry,” he mumbled when Xandar extended a pastry toward him. “What are these for?” he gestured at the crystal on Xandar’s desk and then the larger one across the room.
“To measure time,” Xandar explained. “Erdrik believes it will help us plan and price our work better if we measure how long we spend on each spell.”
Darnian rolled his eyes but said nothing. He slouched into his chair and, without bothering with tea, plunging into his work.
Throughout the day, Xandar caught Daernian mumbling to himself on several occasions. When he shot inquiring looks his way, he often found the wizard hunched over the desk, cradling his head in his hands. Xandar decided not to interrupt. Instead, he tackled several scrolls that had been awaiting his attention - more magical items, weapons, healing potions, and artifacts sought by the recent surge of adventurers streaming into the city.
It turned out to be a good day. Xandar not only managed to disentangle himself from the spell that had ensnarled his focus for days, but he also successfully concluded the remaining weapon enhancement and healing potion orders they had received. He was ready to tell of all his accomplishments to Erdrik when the heavy door to the cellar opened, but instead looked in surprise when Sheila entered the hall alone. She cleared her throat, looking around the room nervously, as if about to make a speech before a packed stadium. At last she said, “Erdrik asked me to find out about the progress of the healing spell.”
Both himself and Sheila turned to Daernian, who remained seated at his desk, head between his hands, staring at the scroll before him while his lips moved silently. He did not respond at first, but finally turned when Xandar called his name.
“Huh?”
There was a hint of shock on Sheila's face at the sight that met her, though she was quick to mask it. “Erdrik asked me to ask you about your progress on the protection spell,” She repeated diligently.
Daernian stared at her for a while, his eyes vacant as if he didn't know where he was or could recognize the people around him. He blinked slowly before stating, “Should be ready.”
Sheila nodded in acknowledgement then took a breath, preparing herself for the next announcement. “In that case, Erdrik asked that Xandar would review the spell with Daernian and if you, Xandar, are convinced it is ready, we should perform another test.”
Xandar arched an eyebrow. “Didn't he want to go over it himself?”
Sheila looked as if she had anticipated precisely this question. “Erdrik was summoned to a very urgent meeting and will not return until much later.”
“Very well then.” Xandar said. He made more tea and polished off the last pastry that still lingered in its paper enclosure, then sat down beside Daernian to study the spell. The other wizard stared vacantly into space the entire time.
“Looks good to me.” he said at last. “Did you manage to find out what was wrong with it?”
Daernian shook his head heavily. “Haven’t a clue. But I made some tweaks just to be sure. Should be fine now.”
Sheila materialized behind them, peering over Xandar’s shoulder. “Does this mean the spell is ready for testing?”
“I think so,” Xandar said.
“In that case I shall go and retrieve the test subjects,” She announced.
“You’ve already found test subjects?” Xandar raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“I have. They are waiting at the nearest tavern. I will be back shortly.” she didn’t wait to finish her sentence and was already on her feet, disappearing into the hallway.
The news of the test subjects appeared to rouse Daernian from his trance. He stood, stretched, and smiled for the first time that day, though it was a smile you wouldn’t like to encounter in a dark alley late at night. “I’ll go prepare the room.”
Xandar cautiously followed. A rush of nervous, twitching activity had taken over Daernian and he was rushing this way and that, moving the targets and the straw figure out of the testing hall, clearing the area, dragging the swords and preparing the protective circle. When they cast the spell to create a power source to draw the spell's energy from, Daernian regarded it with the thirst of a man parched in a desert. When Sheila was back, accompanied by two youths whose facade of fearlessness wavered before Daernian's haunted appearance, Xandar suggested they use an additional protective spell, as a safety measure.
“If you put a protection spell on them we wouldn’t know if the sword spell works.” Daernian said, staring Xandar down from beneath furrowed brows. Xandar backed off, reluctantly admitting to himself that the argument made sense.
The test subjects were young, hardly beyond their teens. They tried to laugh and joke as they lifted their weapons - the regular sword and the magically enhanced one - full of confidence and the need to shout out their fearlessness to the world. But Xandar could tell that they were nervous.
The testing procedure consisted of two phases: first, the designated attacker would charge at the test subject labeled as the target, while the later wielded the simple weapon. The exercise would then be repeated, this time with the target wielding the magically enhanced sword. Both participants needed to possess fundamental training in weaponry, enabling them to safely issue and deflect attacks, then to assess the contrast in the ability to evade assaults when employing the magical sword. Xandar still insisted that they wore helmets and basic armor.
The first round went well. As the audience held their breaths, the attacker advanced with hesitation thinly veiled as smugness. The target adeptly parried the attack without excessive effort, later exchanging his ordinary sword for the enchanted counterpart. He moved it this way and that in his hand, inspecting it before assuming a battle stance.
“Alright, let's see what this magic sword's worth.” he smirked.
The attacker seemed more reluctant this time. He momentarily shifted his gaze to where Xandar, Daernian and Sheila were positioned, as if seeking validation, before redirecting his focus to his opponent.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
And he charged.
To Xandar, the entire thing seemed like a blur. The attacker bridged the distance to his opponent in an instant, their swords colliding with a resounding clang. There was a scream, and the fighter wielding the magic sword crumpled to the ground. Sheila, always quick to react, dashed to his side, with Xandar following suit, trying to ignore the icy chunk that seemed to have settled in his stomach. But something was amiss, and it was Sheila who picked up on it first.
“I don't see any wounds,” she said.
Xandar cast a perplexed glance back, finding Daernian utterly entranced by the wall ahead, his eyes gleaming and his mouth agape.
“What are you doing? Give us a hand!” Xandar called out, but it appeared that Daernian couldn’t hear him. The fallen fighter lay sprawled on the floor, one hand still clutching the sword. His eyes were shut, eyelids fluttering as if trapped in a dream, feeble sounds escaping his lips, as though he was trying to say something.
Xandar attempted a basic healing spell, but found it had little if any effect. Worse still, as he invoked the magic, instead of the usual surge of energy coursing through him he felt a strange pull, as if some unseen force were draining the energy into a vortex, whisking it away before it could take effect and leaving Xandar weakened. He was on the brink of casting another spell, already feeling the power building up and buzzing in the air around him, when a peculiar sensation brushed against his hand, slithering between him and the injured youth. The touch was frigid and disconcertingly slick. His instincts joined into a screaming choir which urged him to withdraw his hand, but Xandar suppressed the urge and held his ground. He cast a different spell instead - a protection spell - attempting to shield the wounded fighter from the compelling force. Beside him, Sheila sat with her eyes tightly shut, her lips moving soundlessly. He realized that she was praying.
The spell failed to work as he had intended. An invisible barrier prevented Xandar from releasing the magical energy, compelling him to keep directing it. All the while, he sensed his strength waning as he became increasingly aware of a strange, chilling and colossal presence tugging from the opposite side of the room. It all ended just as he thought he could endure no longer, the pressure abruptly released. Xandar slumped back, drained, but jumped back to his feet when he heard Daernian's voice behind him.
“No!” the wizard wailed.
“What the…” Xandar turned, bewildered, but realized that Daernian wasn’t addressing him; his wild gaze was fixed on the wall behind Xandar.
“No, they won’t escape this time! I vowed to you!” Daernian screamed at the wall. Xandar saw Sheila inching away from him, her movement deliberate. The fighter, now regaining his senses and staring in terror at the mad wizard, started scooting away on his backside, too petrified or shocked to stand.
Daernian reached into his robes and pulled out an ornate dagger, raising it high as he shrieked, “No matter, I’ll do it the old fashioned way! I won’t let you down again!” His frenzied eyes darted around the room.
Xandar struggled to recall a spell, but, in his shock, couldn’t summon the words.
“Yes, I’ll give you that one,” Daenian muttered, locking eyes with Xandar. He charged the next moment, and in his desperation, Xandar chanted the first words that came to mind. An invisible force struck Daernian an instant later, hurtling him across the chamber. The dagger slipped from his grasp, but he seemed oblivious, transfixed by the wall, attuned to words he alone could hear.
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“He’s lost his marbles,” Sheila’s hushed voice reached Xandar’s ears.
“Back away, while he's not looking,” Xandar whispered back urgently, “Get help!”
But before Sheila could make a move, the wall that had held Daernian’s attention began to stir. It twisted and distorted, fluctuating like a curtain swaying in the wind. Appendages, black as midnight and devoid of digits, slithered from it, advancing like serpents. They rushed toward Daernian, entwining around his legs and drawing him toward the inky abyss materializing on the wall.
“No, no!” Daernian babbled frantically. “I'll offer you another, all of them! One last chance, please! I didn’t let you down before! I gave you that farmer the other week; this isn’t fair!” But his attempts proved futile. He continued to kick and scream, blathering like a lunatic as the things coiled around his legs pulled him further. For a short instance, Xandar was horrified to feel the massive presence that filled the room focusing on his mind - it was as if time had stopped, and he was blinded by a velvety darkness, blank save for the faint glimmer of distant stars. A voice echoed in his mind, soundless yet overwhelmingly loud, a voice that had no words but resonated with power.
“Your mind intrigues me, wizard,” it reverberated without sound. “I could grant you power surpassing all the knowledge contained in every tome that had ever existed, or will ever exist.”
Xandar swallowed hard. He didn’t wish to converse with the eldritch entity, but while he could control the words that left his mouth, his thoughts were laid bare. The words materialized before his mind’s eye before he could stop them: And all it would take is a bit of human sacrifice now and then, right?
The entity seemed to hum with amusement. “It doesn’t have to be human, you know. Halfling, elf, tiefling… I can be flexible.”
“I think I’ll pass.” Xandar responded, now speaking aloud.
“Your loss, buddy.” The creature replied, and in an instant, Xandar was back in the chamber, watching in horror as the tentacles pulled Daernian through the stone, until he vanished entirely.
A few hours had passed, and still, there was no sign of Erdrik. Xandar was starting to entertain the idea of leaving. He had restored the testing hall to its former order and compensated the two test subjects who, much to his astonishment, were in awe and wouldn’t stop raving about how awesome the whole experience had been.
“Wait, so you’d consider returning to help us in testing again? I mean, once we finalize the spell,” Xandar asked them cautiously.
“Will there be more monsters and tentacles and such?” one of them asked with alarming enthusiasm.
“Uh, I should hope not...” Xandar replied, and though they seemed a bit disappointed, they agreed.
He had almost made up his mind and was organizing his working area, preparing to close shop for the day, when he heard someone entering the cellar.
“Heya,” Erdrik declared cheerfully, stopping by Xandar's desk. “We’re one contract away from sealing the deal on a big project,” he told him, surveying the now empty hall. “Where is everyone?”
Xandar had been preparing himself for that very same question for the past few hours.
“Well, we figured out the reason for the protection spell issue…” he rubbed his forehead.
“Well? That's a good thing, right?” Erdrik said, apparently sensing that less positive news was about to follow.
“You could say that.. Looks like Daernian was trying to offer the test subjects as sacrifices to some tentacle monster from a different plane. I managed to save the guy, which the creature evidently wasn’t pleased about, so it, well, took Daernian instead.” Xandar said, forcing the words out.
Erdrik considered the news with gravity. “And what about Sheila?”
“She left. Said that blood was one thing, but dealing with tentacles and other worlds was more than she could stomach.” Xandar told him.
“And she was a butcher's daughter, non the less.” Erdrik mused. “Oh well. Too bad about Daernian too. If not for the sacrificing people bit, he would have made a good wizard, or should I say, warlock. That's the issue with warlocks - they're too volatile. Magic can be capricious too, sure, but at least you're not bound to the whims of some otherworldly horror.”
Xandar nodded ponderously, then brightened up again as a thought struck him. “Oh, and by the way, I did complete the test on that protection spell. The guys agreed to run it one more time and everything worked perfectly. So it's not all bad news after all!”
“Nothing is bad news,” Erdrik agreed. “It's all part of the process, an experiment. No one's done anything like this before - organize wizards into a profit driven group. We are the first, so we're constantly learning and improving and consequentially, becoming better.”
After the day’s events - Daernian’s attempt to sacrifice their test subjects to some otherworldly beast and his subsequent teleportation through the wall into what must have been a very unpleasant encounter, along with Sheila’s flight in terror - the one thing Xandar craved above all was a drink. He even managed to get Erdrik on board, though the man made him wait another hour while he tied up some loose ends in his office. The Tipsy Horse was too loud and rowdy for Erdrik's taste, so Xandar suggested the Pouncing Fox instead.
“It's a short distance to the north, near my place and right on the way to the Barking Toad,” he told Erdrik, “You're still staying there, right?”
“Hopefully not for much longer, but yes.” Erdrik admitted.
“Are you looking to settle down here in Rovalia?” Xandar asked.
“It is still a trial period, right? We're testing out this new concept I came up with, this society, guild, venture - whatever you want to call it. If it proves to be profitable and stable enough, there’s no reason for me to leave,” Erdrik said.
They walked briskly through a light drizzle, using protective aura’s to shield themselves, and soon reached the doors of the Pouncing Fox.
Erdrik surveyed the bustling main hall. There wasn’t a single vacant table in sight. “I thought this place would be quieter.”
“It usually is,” Xandar followed his gaze. “Though it’s still quite popular, and with it being spring - adventure’s season - everyone’s drawn to the big towns, gearing up for their summer expeditions.”
Xandar took a few steps inside, trying to gain a better view, and almost stumbled into a waitress gracefully balancing a massive tray with just one hand.
“Looking for a table?" she asked matter-of-factly, skillfully steadying the tray. “There's one by the window in the corner over there,” she indicated with a nod.
Xandar followed her gesture, his eyes settling on a small table tucked discreetly into a niche on the far side of the hall. Adjacent to it was a dartboard hanging on the wall, while a small group nearby took turns hurling darts and occasionally knives at the target.
Xandar looked back to Erdrik. “I doubt we can find something better at this time,”
Erdrik agreed with apparent reluctance. It was either that or going back all the way to the town’s center to try their luck with the smaller taverns there. The Barking Toad was out of the question.
There was a loud thud just as they settled into their seats, and both swiveled their heads to witness a throwing knife embed itself in the wall just above the target. The group standing in front of the board erupted into laughter. Erdrik, who sat with his back turned to them, shook his head with evident disapproval, and turned back to Xandar.
“Adventurer and traveler season, what can you do?” Xandar shrugged, answering Erdrik's disappointed expression.
“Playing such games in an area where people are dining is simply irresponsible,” Erdrik muttered in response.
“So, you're going to start spreading flyers around again?” Xandar asked, attempting to divert Erdrik's attention. “You know, to find another wizard and an assistant for you?”
“I have no choice now. Though it would be better if we could get some recommendations - word-of-mouth kind of thing. It tends to filter out the more, well…”
“Insane?” Xandar offered.
“..Problematic individuals, let's put it that way.” Erdrik said with a diplomatic nod. “Think of your fellow students. It’s possible that among them, we may find someone who’s both talented and responsible, right? We just need to think outside of the box here.”
The moment Erdrik finished saying the words, an object clattered to the floor beside them. Both Xandar and Erdrik directed their attention downward to find a throwing knife resting at Erdrik’s feet. Leaning to the side, Erdrik retrieved the object just as a member of the group of players approached their table. Xandar watched in fascination as a young woman with a grin walked over. She wore traveling clothes, though they weren’t the typical rugged leather pants and dirt-stained tunic one might associate with a seasoned traveler. Instead, her clothes appeared fine, with two rings on her right hand and a leaf-shaped pendant around her neck to punctuate the elegant attire.
“Apologies for my poor aim,” she extended her hand to Erdrik in an unspoken request to receive the knife back. There was a calm confidence in her tone that Xandar did not encounter before, and when she shifted for a moment, her long hair parting like a curtain, he caught a glance of slightly pointed ears. These weren’t the long, blade-like ears of an elf, but they were not the rounded ears of a human either.
Erdrik was apparently unaffected by her charm. “Please try to aim better next time.” he said, reluctantly handing her the knife. “Who puts a dart board right next to a table?” he muttered when she left, scanning the room and ranting to the world at large, “And where is the waitress?”
“Must be a busy night,” Xandar suggested. He would have been annoyed on any other occasion but now, with his eyes drawn to the woman in the fine clothing and the fox-like grin, the pangs of hunger seemed momentarily forgotten.
“So as I was saying,” Erdrik refocused his attention, his words carrying the strained calmness of someone who was far from being calm, “I'm sure that if you think hard, you can come up with a few names - individuals who are smart, open to learning, and, hopefully, have a firm grip on reality.”
Xandar’s eyes remained fixed on the waitress, who appeared to have been approaching their vicinity from the far end of the hall. Erdrik followed his gaze expectantly.
“About time,” he muttered.
But just as it looked like their long wait was over, a man by a table to her side raised a hand and the waitress stopped, momentarily sidetracked. Erdrik and Xandar were once again forgotten.
“This is unbelievable!” Erdrik exclaimed when she retreated into the kitchen once more. “I've never had to wait for so long, even at the busiest of taverns!”
“I must admit that I didn't have much time to acquire friends during my study years,” Xandar began, hoping to distract Erdrik, “But I could-” he stopped mid-sentence as a dart landed on their table, skidded across its surface, and came to a rest in his lap. Xandar looked up with anticipation. As expected, the same woman was making her way towards them.
“I am terribly sorry,” she said with a wide smile, though there was no hint of remorse in her tone. “My companions are becoming rather inebriated, I hope we are not too much of a nuisance.”
Xandar stared at her in wonder until he remembered himself and handed her the dart.
“Thank you kindly,” she beamed at him, then turned to Erdrik and added, “I will do my best to ensure you are not disturbed again.”
“The audacity..” Erdrik muttered.
“Look, I think the waitress is headed this way,” Xandar nudged Erdrik, raising a hesitant hand and gesturing to catch her attention.
“About bloody time!”
This time she saw them and approached their table. “Sorry for the wait, boys, now what can I get ya?”
Xandar sensed the impending assault but was too stunned to react. The woman with the slightly pointed ears and the enchanting smile was taking aim, a dart poised in her ring-decorated hand, just as Erdrik seemed to regain his composure. Xandar watched the dart’s trajectory as if it were moving in slow motion. The projectile soared above the dartboard, struck the wall above it, and veered to the left, striking Erdrik on the head just as he opened his mouth to speak. Their eyes met and all Xandar could see in Erdrik's expression was smoldering fury.
“Bloody hell! That’s it!” he slammed his hand onto the table, springing to his feet abruptly, causing his chair to scrape across the floor with a sharp screech. The dart-paying group near the board pivoted to observe the commotion.
“I have seen bad taverns in my life, but this is by far the worst!” he announced, fighting to contain his voice. “You’re welcome to stay here, Xandar, but I refuse to endure such treatment,” he directed a swift glance at him before storming out.
A hush seemed to envelope the tavern, as people turned inquisitive looks towards the source of disturbance. In front of the dartboard, Xandar noted how some members of the group were stifling laughter behind their hands or averting their eyes in a bid to muffle their chuckles.
“Well, he sure was in a sour mood, huh?” The waitress broke the silence after the door slammed shut behind Erdrik. Xandar felt guilty to admit that there was something in her statement that made the entire situation all the more amusing. He felt uneasy, not sure how to behave, but the lighthearted remark seemed to relieve the tension and his stomach gurgled, a reminder of more pressing needs. The waitress had barely departed with his order when the woman with the confident smile and the poor aim walked up to Xandar's table.
“We’re all genuinely sorry about your friend,” she offered, “Can I make it up to you with a drink?”