Zuesius of Sandaria

‘’Come on old man be serious, this cannot be worth 2 silvers,’’ I say to the good humoured man showing his rough mail scarves that he apparently designed himself.

‘’That price is a burgeon Sir Mage and is only so low because these are still just experimental until that lazy smith perfects the process,’’ the merchant says enthusiastically. ‘’See these links, they are just like regular mail but see here? That’s a double layer of main so added protection to the neck of any soldier,’’ he leans closer and whispers. ‘’I hear the barbarians like to go for the head mhmm.’’

I lean back away from him shaking my head amused, both Canca and my guard actually snickering at the audacity of whole selling strategy. The man is bold I’ll give him that much, and probably smart too if somewhat odd. This scarf is crude right now and too heavy and definitely not a feasible expense for the army to outfit soldiers but I could see the Mageocracy taking to wearing these because indeed the Savage Tribe of the Barbarian people do take heads, just mage heads.

The rest of his stall is full of a variety of trinket many of which I cannot easily identify with a cursory assessment. I grab a messenger scroll from my pouch thinking of the implications I see for this that I doubt this old man has considered yet. ‘’What’s your name?’’ I ask even as script write itself beautifully on the empty scroll as I detail my thoughts to my magister assistants back at Capital.

‘’I good sir am-‘’

I watch the man pause with his mouth open as though frozen in time, I’m amused by the antic but no smile reaches my face. I make to frown and move but nothing happens, there is silence everything is silent except for the wind and the sounds of falling objects, Mind-Purse. I purge my mind of any and all type of control even as immobile as I am my mental faculties are unaffected, the pure cleansing comforting power of my mind and mana washes over me and I feel relief, but only a split second as I twitch but nothing else happens. Then the fear comes like an unpleasant scent waffing its way towards us from the town’s gate.

Not just fear but dread, completely debilitating dread like nothing I have never felt before in my life. I want to crumble into a ball and be as small as possible, I want to scream my lungs out so someone, anyone comes to my rescue, I want to be as quiet as a mouse so nothing and no one sees me. Sweat runs from my body in rivulets now yet I've completely stopped trying to move for fear of... of... I don’t even know. I smell the piss and shit of an entire town of 10 000 people shit themselves in fear, I curse the sudden gust of wind that blows a hat right towards me conspicuously.

Somehow I know I’m at the precipice between life and death, somehow I know its not in my favour. I cast cleanse after cleanse after cleanse. My sphincters loosening releasing everything in my bowls as I desperately try to cling to life, cowardice I never knew I had coming out of me for the first tie in nearly 200 years of life. Me a veteran of 3 Sandersonian expansions, me a survivor of 80 mage duels 7 of which to the death, me the Royal Master Magician of Sandersonia. I whimper as I feel my death incarnate take notice of me, not even a whimper but an involuntary exhalation of breath as whatever it is that is about to end me-

Help

I manage to mentally scribble onto the massager scroll. Is this what’s left two villages without even a stray dog to bear testament to what happened, am I about to disappear with all these people without anyone knowing what happened?

can’t move, whole town cant move, fearfear frea dreaddreadreadread, its coming its coming! Not mind control, something else, wolf beast big,swallowing everythi-

* *

Theodor Sanderson

The Mages are scared, not the magisters or even the master magicians but the actual hidden powers of the kingdom, the old dogs the grandmasters of magic a whole other level of power age and patience, and they are worriedand that worries me.

On top of that two villages that have been wiped out a completely. An already impossible occurrence so deep within the kingdom with all the checks and balances our civilisation has developed after more than a thousand years of formal establishment. Investigations have been ongoing on recent reports of beasts stalking the land like scavengers, stealing children livestock and hunting parties. This in a completely opposite direction to the two disappeared villages but too close to each other for it to be coincidence.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

On top of that we have a large war-band of our savage warrior neighbours somewhere unknown within our own boarders because someone had the bright idea to delay the violent savages with an indirect route to their destination so as to appease the Maori. Now we have no idea where the war-party actually is.

I shake my head even as we ride hard through the night towards where a small party of about 50 barbarians have been reported in the Woodlands of Maq immerging from the deadly Red like they are taking a leisurely stroll. I shake my head again at the absurdity of the report. My stallion Majesty running hard eating up the miles with a few galloping steps coasting through the night, his powerful muscles rippling the wind blowing pleasantly in my face easing some of my tension.

I look back to check how far behind my entourage is falling, a grin forms on my lip as I notice Austin’s younger mare keeping pace and actually catching up to my more superior bred beast. I look forward and tuck my head, lightening myself with aura which is a clear sign for Majesty to let loose with all speed as the burden on his back is all but gone. The other’s aren’t that far behind at only a few kilometres back, a visible distance. I grin in anticipation of the look my ‘minder’ will give me, of late I have been taking less joy from frustrating the man but I have to have my fun somehow.

A few minutes of happily chasing the wind follow as we race through the twisting dips and rises of the three cart wide crush-stone layered road of the most forested Province in Sandersoria. The gap between Austin and me doesn’t change by much but we leave the rest of our cobbled together delegation far behind grinning like idiots galloping through the night. There is no one on the road at this hour so far between the next town and even if there were they should be smart enough to get out of the road long before we stumble upon them with how loud I know horses at top speed to be.

One of Megister Aaronion’s messenger births flies low above me and I sigh at the reminder of duty and the ambiguous purpose of this trip. Could the barbarians be responsible for the disappearance of the two villages even without a drop of blood or the signs of struggle observed?

I slow Majesty to an eventual canter and the bird lands on my shoulder and starts whispering in my ear in Megister Aaronion's voice while to everyone else I know it sounds like just normal bird chirping. The barbarians seem to be performing some sort of exhibition fight or otherwise fighting amongst themselves.

I grunt resisting the urge to immediately ask what my new wife things about this new development. If they fight they fight, there nothing we can really do about their own internal feuds and I are still an hour away from Maq so not much we could do even if I knew how to optimally handle that. I path my sweaty companion with Austin riding besides me as we wait for the rest of the party to catch up.

‘’What news?’’ he asks noting my thoughtful frown with a hint of steel in his voice. I smile again at his protectiveness.

From my superior in the army to my friend to the captain of my guard Austin has been with me through many things and knows me almost completely. I tell of the message I just received from the magister in our party and a frown blooms on his face as he tries to bring up everything he knows about the barbarians to the fore.

‘’What does Princesses Circia say?’’ He eventually asks as we both hear our party catching up through the silence of the night. I smile as his thoughts are very similar to my own.

‘’We will soon find out’’ I say amused at how similar we actually are to each other in behaviour, like fraternal twins or brothers of the soul raised in different families.

He watches for threats as we move forward slowly so the others can catch up. I look back grateful to have had such an auspicious marriage arranged for me. Circia is from the House Alvalon, born and bred in that den of psionic vipers to be a queen even with how unlikely that would ever be, will never be if I have any say in the matter. For my political stumbling she is a graceful swan, to my impulse for quick action she is sometimes a staying hand, to my reluctance of political responsibility she mhmm, she has pushed me along.

The woman baffles me and inspires me, of course I am thoroughly cleansed and checked for mental meddling, potions and suggestibility markers fairly regularly just to make sure the Alvalons are not brainwashing me somehow. And father does have her silently watched by the royal shadows to ensure she isn’t up to anything nefarious in her spare time but everything checks out, has been checking out for the last 10 years of our union. I still don’t want to be king though, I don’t ever want father to die and I have made it very clear to her and everyone that will listen that I never want to sit on that uncomfortable chair. I am a warrior first and foremost and I guess sometimes a delegate, maybe someday a general but that’s it, I hate politics.

I see them coming over the rise behind us and immediately know something else is wrong, fuck what now?

A bird flies over sits on my shoulder and starts whispering, everyone and every living creature bigger than a rat has disappeared from the town of Jader.