Chapter Two

Jerome and Helga

Duke Jerome Halrond and his wife Helga were nearing the end of a two-week journey from their holdings west of the city of Ciel, the capital of the Kingdom of Orel. He was enjoying not having anything to do for a bit. After several years of dealing with large-scale raiding from the mountain clans to the northwest and spillover from the ongoing wars, both civil and otherwise, in the Border Kingdoms across the Degath River further west, they were finally taking a vacation. The elder of their two sons, Anthony, was old enough to carry out his policies and deal with small raids or border incursions for a few months; it would do him good to gain experience before he took over in his right. Yes, he thought, it was nice. Nice and boring.

“I hate carriages,” Jerome spat out. “When we get to the townhouse, can I burn it down?”

Setting down her needlework, Helga glared at her husband, “No, for the hundredth time, you cannot burn down, smash, sell, or give away the carriage. That is both wasteful and unproductive. If you want to do something, why not read a book or something.”

“I’d rather take a couple of horses and head to the city; we could be to the city in an hour instead of two or three,” he groused.

“I will not race to the city with you and show up all sweaty for my first visit in years. Picking up her needlework and pointedly looking away from Jerome, she said, “Let me know when the city is in view.”

They traveled in silence for a while, Helga working on her needlework and Jerome glaring out the window. After about an hour, they rounded a bend in the road and traveled along a small bluff overlooking the wide Lene River valley. A wide, low dam was up ahead, shining white in the sun. Carved on the face of the dam was a mural depicting the rise of the current royal family. A set of locks was set into either bank, allowing barges and ships to pass efficiently to and from the lake above, passing over a shallow part of the river. This was more efficient than the old bypass canal that was inundated when the lake was filled. The dam was an engineering marvel, a mix of magic and science. The lake it created stretched forty miles upriver and was ten miles wide at its widest, flooding hundreds of square miles of land, and displacing thousands of peasants, freeholders, and minor nobles. Those displaced were compensated, of course. They were given land in the far east of the kingdom and some coin. The value of the new land and coin was only a fraction of what they lost; unimproved land in small river valleys in an untamed wilderness could never be as valuable as farmland at the gates of the capital.

The manner that the relocation of those affected was carried out offended Jerome in personnel and professional ways. While Jerome the Duke understood the need to save as much money as possible in such a large public project, that same part of him also understood how much resentment was caused by not only forcing people off lands their families had inhabited for generations, paying them far less than the land had been worth before the dam project was announced made their resentment even worse. Jerome, the man, was offended by the callousness that the evictions were carried out. The army simply showed up at the doors of those affected, handed them a money pouch and deed, and gave them a week to leave. The old dock and warehouse district was also inundated, but those affected there were not even compensated, simply told to evacuate and try to start over.

Sticking his head out the window, Jerome told the driver to pull over.

“The dam is in view; let’s stretch our legs while viewing this ‘great work,’” Jerome said with a snort. Helping his wife out of the carriage, he waved his hand over the panorama and said, “The great public work of our time, The Grand Ciel Dam.”

“It is gorgeous,” Helga said. “Shorter than I expected, but it certainly is grand. You do not seem to agree, dear.”

“It is an impressive work, clearly needed for the continued prosperity of the capital and Kingdom. The fallout of the inundation was poorly handled, in my opinion. More notice and compensation could have been given, barely increasing the cost and timeline. They were basically tossed out with nothing but the clothes on their back. The way the warehouse and dock district were handled would have led to executions back home. And don’t get me started on that mural. That’s simply garish ego-stroking.”

“You think our family portrait is garish, so forgive me if I ignore that opinion,” Helga said with a smile. The smile turned to a frown, and she said, “I did not know how those displaced were treated. If you are right, which I do not doubt you are, then that is horrible.”

After a few minutes of gazing out over the vista, Helga said, “Let us go; while we are not on a schedule, I want to get to the city sooner rather than later.”

The road led past a fortress, over the dam, past another fortress, and into a shallow valley between the hills on the valley’s eastern side. Joining the Great Eastern Road, it started down to Ciel itself.

Getting bored with the silence, Jerome brought up an old conversation, “Have you given any further thought to adoption? I know Fluffly has a large orphanage here; we can at least visit.”

Setting down her needlework again, Helga sighed and answered, “I have. I know you want more children; I do as well. I want to avoid rushing into anything, though. You have a habit of jumping into things headfirst without thinking of the consequences. We will visit the orphanage, but do not take home the first child that hugs you. I really do not want to clean up another mess for you. We are supposed to be on vacation.”

Waving off her concern, he replied, “I’ve mellowed in my advanced age.”

“Right,” Helga replied, rolling her eyes. “We are so decrepit in our old age; we can barely move around on our own. Shall I get Nadia in here to clean the drool off your chin?” She raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously, “Or shall I inform the stable master not to let you ride anymore?”

“Touché, I surrender, I surrender,” he said, holding a hand over his heart in mock injury. “I shall try to keep my impulses in check,” he said.

After another hour, they finally arrived at the gate. Bypassing the commoners and minor nobles, they moved to the head of the noble’s line and were quickly waved through the gate. Upon passing through the wall, Jerome noticed that there seemed to be fewer people begging around the gate. His first impression was that the dam project was having its intended effect and improving the economy. He noticed that there were more Guards around than when he was here last, but many things can change in five years. Turning towards Helga, he was preparing to speak when a loud chime started coming from the roof.

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“What is that? It sounds like one of your Magister tools,” Helga said, glancing up.

“It is,” poking his head out the window, he said, “Driver, stop and get me my Finder Beacon. Probably nothing I’ll have to deal with, the Capital Guild has plenty of Magisters” After the driver handed the beacon over, he checked it, covering his eyes from the brightness of the glow. Sighing, he looked at Helga frowning, “These readings are abnormal. It’s glowing the brightest that I have ever seen. I have to check it out, if nothing else, to see if this thing is broken,” he said, gesturing at the beacon.

With a sigh, Helga said, “I understand; duty never leaves us alone, even on vacation. Go, I’ll see you at the townhouse later.”

He handed her a communication device and said, “I’ll message you if I’m going to be late.”

He gave her a quick kiss, stepped out of the carriage, grabbed his toolkit from the driver, and waved him on his way. Pulling his Magister's pin from the bag and placing it on his chest, he checked the beacon for a direction and headed towards the Merchants District. He didn’t know the city that well, so unless this new mage had a talent that made them stand out, he would need the help of the local Magisters to locate whomever it was. Following the beacon deeper into the Merchants Quarter, he started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was becoming apparent that he would be visiting the Slums. He entered a square near an inn that the Magisters used for meetings from time to time, sent up a homing beacon, grabbed a snack, and settled down to wait for another Magister to show up. After about half an hour, his homing device hummed in answer to a hail. Triggering it, he started to follow it to whoever had hailed him. Reaching the far side of the square, he saw a young Magister scanning the crowd and called out to him.

“Over here, Magister.” When he had his attention, he asked, “Were you sent to search for the new mage, or are you on other business.”

“I’m part of the Awakening Search,” seeing Jerome’s badge, he quickly added, “General. How may I assist you?”

“My beacon went off when I got to the city about an hour ago. I have an advanced beacon, and it is giving off strange readings, so I chose to search for this newly Awakened to see if it’s malfunctioning. I simply wish to join your search; please take me to your Commander so I can avoid stepping on his or her toes. I have no desire to take over; I’m supposed to be on vacation,” Jerome said, hoping to smooth over any ruffled feathers for calling him from his duties.

“Very well. Though I must say, I was hoping you were searching for a rogue mage; I’d rather be doing that. I hate running around the Slums, and that seems to be where this Awakened is. I’ll never fathom why the Gods give Talents to such poorly bred people. Gives people ideas,” the young Magister said.

Jerome looked the man over, taken aback by the other Magisters’ attitude. While his uniform was the standard colors and cuts, he noticed that it was made of much finer material than standard-issue uniforms. Ah, Jerome thought, a young noble that believes that he is better than others by an accident of birth. Well, not my Guild or vassal, so I won’t dress him down. He knew that other Guilds were more socially stratified than his, but if this was the attitude young Magisters had, he was afraid there would be trouble in the future.

“Lead on then,” he said, keeping his face schooled to hide his feelings.

Making their way closer to the Slums, Jerome paid closer attention to how people reacted to them. He noticed that those better dressed tended to ignore them as soon as they saw the Magisters badge, while the beggars and poor workers shied away with fear. Interesting, he thought. Is it because we are nobles or Magisters? While he wouldn’t waste much time on it, he would put out some feelers. He couldn’t interfere in the affairs of the Capital Guild; he did need to know if a rebellion or other problems were coming; those sorts of things had a habit of spreading. They quickly arrived at a small square in front of a checkpoint. That’s new, he noticed; the last time he was in this area, there were no checkpoints around. Things were worse than he thought if they were trying to keep the poor from the rest of the city. He wondered if the King knew what was going on here. If he did, Jerome would need to rethink how much he supported his future domestic policies. He would have to tear him a new one if he didn’t. This sort of thing never helped in the long run. His guide led him over to a group of Magisters congregating as far from the checkpoint as possible. As he got closer, he heard a voice he recognized berating someone.

“….if it is some pox-ridden street whore; that doesn’t change the law or our duty. We are going in there to find the Awakened and bring them back to the Guild for training. Or would you rather have a Destruction Mage lose control and destroy half the city?” said a woman standing in front of the group.

“Personally, I would not,” Jerome interjected from behind her. “Even a trained Destruction Mage is volatile; they rarely have much control. How are you doing, Francine? I haven’t run into you in years.”

Francine jumped at his voice, turned around, and punched him in the chest. “Gyah! Don’t sneak up on people, Jer…err, Your Grace. I’m not doing that great today. I have been straddled with the dregs of the Corps for this search. They seem to think we can ignore them just because this awakening is some poor wretch in the Slums. Maybe you can disabuse them of that notion,” raising her voice, she continued, “since you are a Magister General out on a Search, this is clearly important.”

“Colonel Oncel is correct,” he said, addressing the assembled Magisters, “a Search is one of the most important duties a Magister has. Without us, most new Mages would go untrained. For a vast majority, this would make little difference as their talents are minor and harmless,” he scanned the Magisters and the forming crowd of onlookers and continued, “However, both the Colonel and I have seen the aftermath of an uncontrolled duel talent Death and Destruction Mage. The city of Dalt in the Duchy of Galdtred was wiped off the map by a twelve-year-old boy who was upset because he got yelled at for dropping some apples. The local Guild had not sent a Magister to search him out because he was from a noble family, and they assumed he would be trained. A later record search showed that it had been over a hundred years since that family had a mage awaken, so the signs of awaking had been forgotten. Over ten thousand died because of laziness on the part of a Magister. Never slack on a Search, or the next city destroyed may be yours.” By the looks of horror on the pompous idiot’s faces, he had made an impression. “Before we continue, I must speak to the Colonel in private.” Stepping aside with Francine, he asked, “Are things so messed up here that Magisters don’t want to search for commoner mages?”

“Not really; I wasn’t exaggerating when I said these were the dregs of the corp. The Magister General put me in charge of them; he is hoping I can turn them around. They don’t know it, but they are out if I give them a bad performance review,” she responded. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Vacation, actually. Things have been calm in the west, so Helga and I decided to dump things on Anthony for a bit and relax. My beacon went off just after we passed thru the gate,” pulling it out, he showed her how brightly it was shining, “and as you can see, it’s giving off a strange reading. I’m not here to take over or anything, I just want to find this Mage, check their power and find out if this thing is malfunctioning,” he said pointing at the beacon. “With their attitude, I’m guessing you won’t begrudge some competent help?”

With a snort of disgust, she replied, “If you don’t pull a stunt like you did in Cinder, sure tag along. Hector has a group working their way down from the north, and Kraig, you don’t know him, but he’s good, is coming from the south,” turning to the others, she raised her voice, “Let’s get a move on,” and headed through the checkpoint into the Slums.