As the orange hues of sunset dimmed, my carriage made its way to the monumental Vandaris City Hall, the heart of this vibrant metropolis. From the window, the city buzzed with a rhythm that hinted at its intricate history. Thoughts of my conversation with Leo stirred within me, and I recollected tales of the once-great Lumeos Kingdom by the shores of the fabled Lake Lumeos.
It had once been the Empire's vassal, but fortunes shifted in the wake of its fall to civil unrest. Vandaris rose from those ashes, sculpted by the ambitions of influential merchants and nobles. Their combined will birthed a unique governance—a council of trade masters and nobles like Eryn’s uncle, Duke Marion. Like any center of power, it was a stage for continuous power struggles.
Zarn Budow, the distinguished leader of the Merchants' guild, was my primary contact. Leo's praises had painted a promising picture of the man, but I couldn't dismiss the possibility of bias given their shared affiliations. Regardless, my aim was to position myself as a benign or, preferably, beneficial entity for the city's cause, and Budow was key to this endeavor.
My reflections were interrupted as the carriage drew to a stop before City Hall, a towering edifice flanked by statues—representing both the deity of commerce and Alezshara, the winter goddess. As I descended, an attendant greeted me with poise. "Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, you honor us. Follow me."
The doors to the reception chamber opened to reveal Zarn Budow. His regal bearing was accentuated by a beard that spoke of wisdom. His eyes locked onto mine as he extended a firm hand, equal parts greeting and challenge. "Apologies for the abruptness, Archmage. It's crucial we speak."
As we engaged in cordialities, I felt the weight of his formidable presence, reminiscent of military leaders I'd encountered, yet unique in its blend of economic and political savvy. I had to constantly reaffirm my status, remembering the stories of my own power and prowess.
Our conversation, steeped in politeness, drifted from my contributions against the fiends to the arts of local trade. Suddenly, a maiden, straight from the tales of old-world Europe, graced the room with tea. I couldn't help but be captivated. Budow noticed, suggesting that if I needed such a servant, he could assist. Politely declining, I sought to return to the topic at hand.
As we navigated the political landscape, each sipping the exotic tea, an alarming change overcame Budow. His vigor drained, replaced by pallor and then sudden distress. My heart raced. Poison? My gaze darted around, searching for the maid, but she had vanished. Budow's weakening form became the sole focus of my concern.
"Zarn!" I called out, rushing to him. The implications were clear: treachery was at work.
Chairman Budow, previously the master of the dialogue, now convulsed, a shade of cerulean overtaking his complexion. For a brief, disoriented moment, I felt like I was a part of some epic saga, perhaps akin to the tales of Westeros. But my rational mind quickly pierced the fog. There was only one reasonable explanation for this: poison. A window stood agape, hinting at the escape route of the possible perpetrator—a maid, I suspected.
Budow's agonized sounds continued to pierce the room.
“You... okay?” The words spilled out, almost instinctive, even though their absurdity hung heavy in the air.
Moving quickly, I hoisted Budow, trying to avert any danger of him choking on his own distress. But then a chilling realization hit me. Hadn’t I partaken of the same tea?
“Lord Xandros, are you unscathed?” A voice from the shadow queried.
“Remarkably, yes. Could it be my inherent resilience to toxins?” I mused, drawing upon my knowledge of T&T, where a character's defense against poison strengthens with experience. By level 20, one was nearly invulnerable to most toxins. It wasn't the most glamorous of skills, but in moments like these, it was invaluable.
From the doorway, the sharp cry of Budow’s aide pierced the room. "Chairman Budow?!"
Ah, I mused, from the aide's perspective, this must seem a dire tableau.
Fighting for air, Budow managed, “Stay back! Do not approach!” His eyes, now filled with terror, locked onto mine. “Lord Xandros… We are in some perilous game…”
With swift confidence, I told him, "Fear not. Let me tend to your wounds."
Budow’s mumbled response seemed to underscore his belief in the innate goodness of the people of Vandaris. "They would never wish harm upon you... Heal me?"
It became glaringly apparent that Budow feared retaliation—a cataclysmic retribution on his city, given the power I wielded. Reaching into my Bag of Holding, I produced an Anti-Toxin and administered it. As the vibrant color returned to Budow’s face, he managed to express astonishment at my preparedness.
Barely recovered, he issued a clarion call to his aide, "She must be found! The imposter who sought to end us!"
The subsequent events were a whirlwind of apologies from Budow, the mounting realization of the assassin's skills, and the underlying political machinations at play. Whoever had orchestrated this, I reflected, intended not only to kill but to sow discord.
While I had no desire to become embroiled in the politics of Vandaris, the very act of targeting me implied that those dear to me, like Leo and Lana, could be in jeopardy. For their sake, I would wade into the murky depths of this intrigue.
The need to unmask the would-be killer was burning within me—the pretender draped in maid's robes. But the arcane energy I had called upon this dawn had been woven with defense in mind. None of the spells I held at my fingertips would help in tracking a shadowy assailant.
I glanced towards Budow, my reluctant ally in this moment. "I'll cede the sleuthing to you, Budow. But any shard of discovery, I expect it shared."
"Rest assured," he replied, tone icy and formal. "You shall be the first to hear."
It was then, amidst the spiraling chaos, that I felt the taut threads of control. Thoughts of Leo and Lana, potentially caught in this treacherous web, stoked the fires of my determination.
"Budow," I murmured, "I must be off."
He met my gaze, earnestness evident. "I regret the shadows that have fallen upon this day."
For a fleeting moment, I sensed Budow wanted to weave more plans, more defenses. But I couldn’t be anchored here. The safety of Leo and Lana, uncertain as the morning mist, compelled me to act.
"Just one thing," I began hesitantly, "for purposes solely investigational...might I have that maid attire?"
Without a word, Budow encased the garments in a simple box and handed them over. Such an unflinching facade, I mused, was the mark of a consummate professional.
Outside the looming pillars of the city hall, my awaiting carriage beckoned. With practiced ease, I invoked two spells: Fly and Planeshift. A mere nod to the driver, and I transitioned to the spectral realm, soaring heavenwards.
This spectral dance, unburdened by worldly barriers, allowed swiftness like no other.
But where to begin? My mind's eye fixed upon the Weavers’ guild. My suspect list held one prominent name—Henric Saran, the man atop Vandaris Weavers’ guild's echelons.
Despite the spectral world's advantages, I felt the weight of potential dangers. Perhaps the guild had defenses birthed from their weaving prowess? Regardless, formal channels would be futile against Henric if he indeed pulled these deadly strings.
I materialized within Henric’s sanctum, finding him ensnared in bureaucratic webs.
"Lord Henric," I began, drawing his gaze. "A moment of your time."
His surprise was palpable. "Xandros?! By the Cosmere! How...?"
Gathering my thoughts, I pressed on. "It seems someone sought to end my tale prematurely."
Henric's eyes widened. "An attempt on your life? Preposterous!"
Holding my arcane artifact, I cast Detect Enemy, seeking malice's glow within Henric. But as his confusion deepened, it became clear—Henric was oblivious.
His innermost thoughts, laid bare by my artifact, echoed his innocence. Yet, they also held resentment. His vision of a fiend-free world, overshadowed by my abilities.
Understanding dawned. "So, it’s not you. Can you fathom who else might harbor such animosity?"
Henric sighed. "Your reputation precedes you, Lord Xandros. Yet, only a fool or...a devotee of the fiends would dare."
I felt a chill, memories of past confrontations looming. If Vandaris held remnants of these cultists, the implications were dire. Henric’s recounting of their deeds and widespread influence only darkened the tapestry.
Gratitude mingled with urgency. "I must depart, Lord Henric. Our talk was...illuminating."
As I emerged onto Commerce Street, a premonition tugged at me. Fiction often told of loved ones in peril while the hero was diverted. The eerie silence, the fractured walls of Leo and Lana’s home—all pointed towards a dire reality.
The shadows lengthened, and I prayed I was not too late.
In the sweeping, majestic city of Dravus, shadows and light intertwined. The cobblestones echoed with the weight of history, and every twist and turn whispered tales of power and intrigue. It was amidst this landscape that I, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, found myself facing a tide of emotions and responsibilities.
“Lana! Leo!” I cried, my voice echoing through the ancient hallways.
“Master Emberus!” Lana's voice broke the stillness.
My heart swelled with relief upon seeing her, and she collided with me, the force of her embrace nearly knocking the wind out of me. Her body trembled, the chill of fear still present in her.
“Lana, by the Cosmere, are you unharmed? Where is Leo?” I inquired, my voice laced with a mix of urgency and concern.
Suddenly, Leo emerged, looking every bit the lord of his domain, but the tension in his eyes revealed his recent ordeal. “Lord Xandros,” he acknowledged with a curt nod.
Relief washed over me, rendering me momentarily speechless. They were safe. My darkest fears, for the moment, were laid to rest. Together, we retreated to the opulence of the living quarters, seeking the warmth and comfort of familiar surroundings, as we recounted the events of the day.
Leo, with the gravitas of a storyteller, spoke of the audacious break-in. Two women, seeking to abduct Lana, had infiltrated their sanctuary. Yet, as they endeavored to complete their vile task, one was ensnared by an unseen force—Lana's invisible guardian, a testament to the powers I had imbued upon the household. This led to the awakening of Leo and his household forces. With the djinni summoned, the assailants faced an overwhelming force, and in their ensuing retreat, left marks of their desperation.
“I should have been here,” I murmured, the weight of my choices pressing down on me.
“You have done more than any could ask, Emberus,” Leo said, gratitude evident in his gaze. “Had it not been for your guardians, things might have taken a far darker turn.”
“Yet, if they targeted you,” I began, my thoughts heavy, “it’s clear their quarrel is with me.”
The world of Dravus was intricate, a mesh of politics, power, and hidden agendas. While the cultists were but one piece of the puzzle, Leo had heard whispers of their dark deeds, performed in the labyrinthine catacombs beneath the city.
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Lana, ever the beacon of positivity, chimed in, “You are not to blame, Master Emberus.”
“Indeed,” Leo added with a sage nod. “We are but pawns in a larger game. But together, we stand stronger.”
Holding Lana close, I contemplated the path before me. The life of a mage was fraught with choices and sacrifices. Yet, if I wielded such influence, I was determined to use it to protect those I held dear.
Decisions weighed heavily on my mind as the morning sun graced the city of Dravus. Reflecting on my tools and resources, I was drawn to the maid outfit—once worn by our mysterious attacker. Using the spell, Legend Lore, I sought to glean insight from its memories. The ethereal vision of a drow assassin filled my mind. Her transformation was masterful, her deception nearly perfect.
However, the intrusion of Lana’s voice brought me back to reality, and I was left with the awkward task of explaining my unconventional methods.
The day was young, and the Adventurers’ guild beckoned. With Leo and Lana in tow, I sought to fortify our defenses and unravel the mysteries of Dravus. The guild, with its hierarchies and complexities, would be instrumental in our endeavors.
“Leo,” I began, as our carriage rumbled toward our destination, “There are matters we must discuss regarding the guild.”
In Dravus, the guild was not just a hub of adventurers but an institution, a bastion of power and information. It was here that I would set my plan into motion, drawing upon its vast resources to ensure the safety of those i cared for and uncover the shadows that sought to do us harm.
In the sprawling city, where artisans and magicians mingled, the Adventurers’ guild was not dissimilar to a carpenters’ guild or even the leather workers who shaped hides. Such was the nature of hierarchy in this metropolis.
“All right, I think it’s time we set our course,” I declared, a sense of urgency threading my voice.
Lana hesitated for just a moment before murmuring, “Aye.”
Leo simply nodded, a resolute look on his face, “Understood.”
We settled into a carriage that soon merged with the bustling traffic of the main thoroughfares. Yet, our destination was a ruse. Shadows of yesterday's encounters convinced me we were not alone in our moves; eyes, unseen but felt, followed. So, to befuddle any tails, I directed the coachman to lose himself in the city’s maze. In this diversion, we employed the spell, *Move Spectral Plane*, to spirit us away from our carriage and directly towards our true destination.
The Adventurers’ guild, though easy enough to locate, presented an unassuming facade. Save for the emblem mounted over its entrance, it might've passed for any other guild. We had sent word of our arrival, so upon entering, we were promptly greeted by an elder, his status evident in his garb. “Greetings, Lord Xandros. I am President Revishe, and assembled here are the distinguished leaders from our guild’s elite parties.”
The room was a study in concentration. Casting the *Identify* spell prior to our visit, I found myself privy to personal data floating above each individual. President Revishe’s tag read: Human, Male, 65, Level 8 Rogue.
Despite Dravus lacking a traditional leveling system, this data provided rough equivalents to the T&T game. It also tried to fit each individual into T&T’s classes. My gaze settled on Petr, a man whose tag read Level 9 rogue but whose demeanor suggested shades of ranger and fighter. There were others too, whose power was evident, which brought some relief.
The president must've briefed them about my proposition, I mused, bracing for the role I was to play.
In a voice commanding but gentle, I began, “I am Emberus Blazeus Xandros. I seek individuals of daring spirit and unwavering heart. The task I have is perilous, but I beseech your strength.”
A voice dripping with skepticism cut through the chamber, “Oh, you're that sorcerer, aren’t you? Why not showcase a little magic?”
The audacious speaker was a young man, a blade twirling carelessly in his grip. The *Identify* spell marked him as one of the room’s least experienced.
Chatter erupted, some chastising the brash youth, while others seemed to challenge me with their piercing gaze. Observing President Revishe’s silence, I sensed this was a test.
Noting Petr’s subtle nod of permission, I asked, “A demonstration, then?”
The youth retorted, “Exactly, old-timer.”
Perhaps it was the circumstances of recent events, the danger Leo and Lana faced, but my patience was thin. The room's atmosphere, electric with anticipation, begged for a response.
“Very well,” I began, weaving the arcane threads, “By virtue of my magic, I transform thee... Polymorph.”
The arrogant leader's cocky façade vanished, replaced by wool and bleating. The room was hushed, save for the sheep's confused baas.
“Apologies, I missed that last bit about meteors?”
The assembly was a mix of shock and awe. The guild's president, visibly shaken, managed a plea, “Lord Wizard, forgive our ignorance.”
The spell had made my point clear. Only three, including the ever-reliable Petr, stood their ground. Their *Identify* tags marked them as powerful entities, not easily cowed.
The weight of my impulsive decision began to settle, “Fear not, in due course, he shall revert,” I assured, hoping to ease the room's tension.
Petr, ever the diplomat, responded, “It seems I may have underrepresented your prowess, Lord Xandros. Please accept our sincerest apologies.”
The underlying message was clear. Respect, whether earned through diplomacy or display of power, was a valuable currency in this world.
The room was cast in a shadowy hush as I spoke. “Let us not dally. Our business awaits.”
The guild president hesitated, his voice quaking slightly. “Proceed, if you will.”
Silence took hold once more. No one ventured a sly comment or interjection as they once might have.
“This,” I began, weaving the tale of our predicament with practiced flair, “is our reality now. First and above all, ensure the safety of my comrades and their estate. And, let us uncover the puppeteer of these dark machinations.”
The guild president swallowed. “If I grasp your meaning... You're suggesting we primarily ensure their safety?”
Every adventurer’s eye shifted towards Leo and Lana, with Lana appearing particularly uneasy beneath their scrutiny.
“Precisely,” I affirmed.
He cleared his throat. “However, melding protection with investigation might jeopardize their well-being...”
“That's under the assumption of a singular party’s assistance, yes? My intention is to employ every group present.”
He blinked, taken aback. “I mean no offense, but enlisting all ten parties? The cost will be steep.”
I smirked, sensing the direction this was heading. Rising, I unsealed my Bag of Holding, letting its contents rain down. The shimmering flow of gold, platinum, and glinting jewels cascaded, amassing into impressive mounds.
Whispers of “Mister Emberus!” broke the stunned silence. Lana, her eyes wide, gestured frantically for restraint.
I indulged in a moment of satisfaction; I was never rich in on earth, so id never gotten to "make it rain", i guess in this case it would be more "making it hail". The gesture was theatrical, perhaps overly so, but it was for a noble cause.
I met their astonishment with a raised eyebrow. “Haven’t tallied it, but will this suffice?”
The guild president could only nod fervently.
Amid the scattered treasure, the bleating of the transformed sheep Stiller added an amusing soundtrack. A wealth so vast, it could easily be mistaken for a mountain range, was contained within my Bag of Holding.
“If this falls short, do notify me,” I remarked. “But if it suffices, let us deliberate our approach without delay.”
The guild president, together with party leaders, immediately immersed themselves in devising a strategy. The dynamics had shifted entirely. These were no longer mere adventurers but dedicated professionals, outlining their plan.
Petr, with his characteristic grin, remarked on taking Stiller to the Rogues' guild. “Imagine their faces when they see him revert. Might make them more talkative, knowing what you’re capable of.”
I smirked. “Quite the plan, Petr. You’ve always been the reliable sort.”
And as discussions wound down and decisions solidified, I pondered the whereabouts of Eryn.
Petr explained, “Eryn’s ties are to the Weavers. Their talents are...unique. Their allegiances are often singular.”
The adventurers departed, their spirits high, leaving me with assurances of their dedication.
***
Our meeting with Zarn Budow at city hall was laden with apologies, which I swiftly curbed. “Actions, Chairman Budow, speak louder than words.”
“I assure you,” he replied, “Vandaris City will not rest until justice is served.”
With an agreement established and a generous "donation" to boost the city's efforts, I departed, noting the increased vigilance among the guards.
Yet, amid all this, Lana's voice broke through, tinged with concern. “Mister Emberus, might you be... perhaps a tad too liberal with your assets?”
I paused, searching for the right words.
Upon our return, Lana's eyes met mine with an intensity I hadn't anticipated. Given her upbringing as a merchant's daughter, I should have expected her acute awareness to the weight of each coin spent. My own recklessness that day had been more suited to the flamboyant tendencies of Leo than my usual discretion, making her reproach sting even more.
"Remember, Lana, Lord Xandros acts with our best interests at heart," Leo interjected gently.
Her gaze softened, though it remained heavy with worry. "I understand his motives, but it pains me to see Master Emberus bear so much on our account." She sighed, her gaze returning to me. "I apologize, Master Emberus. Despite all you've done, I fear I only seem to hinder you."
I contemplated my choices, recognizing that my whimsical spending was but a mere abstract number in the grand tapestry of Emberus's saga. Yet, for the residents of this realm, those choices bore tangible consequences. Crouching to level my gaze with Lana's, I confessed, "It pains me that my actions have distressed you. You think you obstruct me, but in truth, by addressing me for who I am and not what I am, you keep me grounded. Were you to have praised today’s excess instead of chiding me, I fear the man I would become.”
She hesitated, words trapped behind her eyes, but before she could utter them, I continued, "For you, for your father, there's no price too steep. You are like kin to me."
In my former life, such sentimental proclamations would have been unthinkable. But this realm, less convoluted than the intricate dance of Japan, granted me a theatrical flair worthy of the mage I had become.
Although I yearned for the company of Leo and Lana, my unfamiliarity with the city and its intricacies rendered me a virtual prisoner within their residence. Nonetheless, these days were far from monotonous. The abode was twice ambushed by rogue agents, seemingly under dark elven command, and an unknown waterway emerged in the city's underbelly. In each circumstance, the brave adventurers held the fort, negating any need for my intervention.
Yet, a more personal assault evaded my notice. Eryn, whom I had unwittingly placed in harm's way due to our proximity, had been targeted by the dark elves. I had always seen Eryn as an ally, never a potential victim. Thankfully, her deft weaving skills kept her assailants at bay until timely intervention from a nearby patrol. The mere thought of an alternate outcome made my blood run cold.
Eryn chastised me later, but when I proposed a personal guard detail, her spirit flared. "They'll regret the day they crossed me!" she declared, aligning herself with Petr's investigative party.
By the fourth day, the city's concerted efforts bore fruit with the discovery of the dark elves' lair within the sewer system's shadows. The subsequent confrontation led to the capture of a singular dark elf. Examining her attire, I sighed in exasperation. "Why must her attire be so... revealing?"
In the ebon cradle of the Harkness enclave half a century past, an infant dark elf was christened Ravonica, which in their lyrical tongue whispered the words “beautiful shadow.”
Every enclave of the dark elves was a mosaic of tradition, where members were shaped by roles, much like steel in a forge. Expected to execute these roles with a perfection only rivaled by the starlit sky, Ravonica’s own enclave, whose name, Harkness, bore the weight of "saboteur", shaped her in the clandestine arts of assassination and subterfuge. Upon her ascension as a master in her craft, she was entrusted with five disciples of shadow and was bestowed the title Ray—denoting her as the "sovereign of shadows."
Ravonica Harkness Ray's allegiances, while shifting like sand, found her deeply entwined within the treacherous tapestry of Dravus's underground. Yet, a misstep, a single breath misplaced, led to the demise of one under her watch. The haunting gaze from her fallen kin's eyes embedded a shard in her spirit, a splinter that time only seemed to sharpen.
Two decades past, her enclave sought refuge within the Empire’s embrace, and it was there she encountered a figure—an enigma whose golden eyes seemed to drink the light from her memories, muddling and distorting them. Suddenly, Ravonica's very essence felt ensnared, held taut by thick, pulsating tendrils of black that chained her spirit, their origins tracing back to the omnipresent silhouette that trailed her like a forbidden waltz partner.
A puppet to his unspeakable whims, Ravonica’s hands were stained with sins beyond counting. Resistance meant feeling the very bonds that controlled her squeeze tighter, robbing her of air and will, forcing her further into the abyss of a marionette’s existence.
A decade ago, her strings were pulled towards Vandaris City, where she became an instrument for cultists. The tendrils had become familiar, like old scars, and she wondered about the might she'd possess if free. Yet, the shadow of that overwhelming force dulled such thoughts.
But days ago, in a dance with death she’d rehearsed countless times, Ravonica faltered. Panic, alien and raw, consumed her puppeteer. The city itself seemed to turn on them, a tide of righteous fury in pursuit. As the pressure mounted, she felt an ancient pain, the gaze of her fallen disciple, and it cleaved a fragment of her soul free.
A mere hour ago, her sanctuary was breached by an alliance of guards and adventurers, and she felt a chink in her puppeteer’s armor. Amidst the chaos, the vision of her lost disciple empowered her to act autonomously for a fleeting moment, granting her disciples a chance of escape.
Then, in the midst of her newfound self-awareness, a nebulous and mighty force surged through her. It was a cleansing fire, reducing her puppeteer to mere ashes while cradling her, reminding her of who she truly was.
An exclamation of realization and joy pierced the air, as the puppet strings dissolved. The rebirth of Ravonica demanded a new title, not as Ray, but as Silver, a testament to her unwavering loyalty—Ravonica Harkness Silver.
Amid the dimly lit room stood Petr, Eryn, and the other party leaders, their silhouettes converging over the dark elf. Battered and bruised, her limbs restrained and mouth sealed, she seemed trapped in the throes of unconsciousness. Her silvery-white hair framed her face and her distinct features triggered my memory – she was the one from my Legend Lore spell.
Yet one question nagged at me, and without realizing, I muttered, “Why is her attire so… revealing?”
Her bodysuit was in line with what one might expect for an assassin, streamlined and efficient. But the unnecessary cuts around her back, thighs, and chest were bafflingly provocative.
Eryn's voice, edged with annoyance, broke through my musing. "Would you prefer if I aided your wandering eyes elsewhere?"
I let out an exasperated sigh. "I assure you, my focus remains where it should."
Guilt chided me. There was no room for such distractions. This woman was implicated in plots that endangered us all. Still, the adventurers' barely concealed disdain for the dark elf sat uneasily with me. Whispers of torture and other unspeakable things circulated.
"Enough!" I declared. "We will not resort to barbarism. I’ll speak with her.” I hesitated for a moment, then added, "I'd prefer if everyone but Petr and Eryn would leave."
The room emptied until only the echo of the dark elf's breath remained.
With a nod from me, Petr gently raised her, easing off the gag. As I neared her, I softly jostled her. "Can you hear me?”
Eyes, hauntingly vacant, met mine.
Introducing myself, I tried to gauge her reactions. But there was nothing – just a hollow emptiness. "Might she be under some form of control?" I posed to Eryn.
She replied, her tone grave, "Rumors speak of a vacant gaze in those possessed."
I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "Then let's free her from this.” I invoked the Remove Curse spell, hoping to liberate her from this malevolent grip.
Her reaction was immediate and visceral. Her scream echoed through the chamber, a raw, guttural sound that chilled the bones.
Petr cried out, "What have you done?!”
As the dark miasma erupted from her form, I wrestled with my doubts, praying my decision would save her rather than doom us all.