Near the entrance to a city four guards sat at a table and played cards. It was thundering and raining, but the weather didn’t seem to hinder their game.

“It’s been pouring all day and night…”

“That’s just how it is here.” An old guard responded. “I forgot you were from the south, Otto.”

“Yeah. First time I came here was in the winter, which was… Only one year ago, I suppose?” He sighed. “It’s so fucking boring here it felt like a decade…”

“Bah, you’ll get used to it. Once you get hitched the boring nights turn into something you pursue.” The old guard chuckled. “How about the blacksmith’s daughter? I could hook you up.” He laughed even louder.

“I’d rather plow a goat than that cow. She’d break my every bone before winter.” He took a sip from a cup. “Maybe we should throw her to the beasts, that way the roads will be safe once they hibernate.”

“Or they’ll get a taste for manflesh.”

“Doubt they would get more aggressive than now. Didn’t the miller’s cousin disappear recently?” Otto asked.

“Yeah. His family and the wagon – all gone. Didn’t even find the bodies.”

“Maybe he realized what hell awaited him here and chose to flee.” Otto said while sneering. “Wish I was that smart.”

They stayed silent for a minute, contemplating on what horror the family had to experience to disappear without a trace.

“Think it was orcs?” Otto broke the silence.

“They don’t eat horses.” The old guard said flatly. “Trolls, on the other hand, eat all they fucking can. I heard once of a village they raided, further up north. All that was left were bloody spots and the foundations of what used to be homes. All of it probably ended up as a shack for some stinky greenskin.”

“Aye, heard a similar story down south as well. My Pa used to scare me with stories of goblins wearing skulls of children as trophies. Bullshit, right?” Otto noticed sadness appear on the old man’s face.

“The miller’s cousin had children, twins I believe, barely four years old…” He gulped down his drink. “Hope they ain’t danglin' like those stories tell.”

Once more silence took over, this time lasting longer. Sounds of cards flipping and silver rolling on the table dominated the area. The dark clouds in the sky seemed ominous for reasons unknown.

“I win again!” One of the other guards finally broke the depressing atmosphere with a loud laugh and then scooped up the thirty silver coins lying on the table. The coins were rather small, only the width of a pinky finger.

“Fucking shit,” another guard slammed the table, “you must’ve cheated! This is the fifth time already!”

“Luck favors the bold.” The winner snickered.

“Bold? Did you forget the time you pissed your pants, Dave?”

This seemed to ruin the man’s mood, somewhat, but the tips of his lips were still curled up.

“Oh yeah? Tough shit coming from your dumb ass.” He took a slight pause and then muttered. “Shagging his own sister…”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” The table shook, spilling cups over.

“Calm yourself.” The older guard grabbed the man’s shoulder to sit him down. “Any more and I’ll have to write a report on you, Jack. While playing is fine, doing so for money is another problem.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Jack’s red face seemed to calm a bit. “Alright, Serge… But I can’t allo-“

“Quiet.” The Sergeant said, motioning towards the stone road. The guards pocketed their money and then looked back onto the horizon. Trees and the night darkness hid anything from sight, but the sounds of hooves managed to reach them.

“Someone at a time like this?” Someone whispered.

Soon after a lone rider came into view. He wore a red robe that screamed of importance.

“Shit. Otto, go wake the governor.”

“What?! He said to never bother him!”

“Just fucking go!”

The fourth guard named Otto cursed something under his breath and ran off through the wooden door at the side of the gate. The leftover guards stood like planks waiting for the rider to approach. It didn’t take long for him to do so and stop within 5 meters of the group. The Sergeant stepped closer.

“Sir Magus, we didn’t expect you.” he bowed. “Were you perchance attacked on the road?”

He couldn’t make out the face under the cowl, as if the shadows themselves worked their hardest to hide the visage within. His robe was ragged with visible signs of fighting. He must’ve been through a lot.

Five minutes passed in an awkward silence, which creeped out the men. Why was the mage not responding?

“Hello? Sir Magus?” The Sergeant moved even closer, slightly lifting up the lantern to see better. In response, the horse neighed at the top of its lungs and reared, flailing its front legs wildly. Had he not backed away, it would’ve knocked the lantern out of the Sergeant’s hands, or worse, crushed him.

At least this got the Magus’ attention because he slowly turned towards the old man. Both wind and rain halted making the moment eerily silent as the men awaited a response.

“Yees.” The mage in red responded shortly in a voice one could only describe as ‘inhuman’.

“A-ah. Okay…” The old Sergeant barely mustered. He never spoke to a magus before, nor had he seen one up close, so perhaps this was just the way they talked? It was hard to believe, but that’s what the governor was for - to talk with people of higher status. In any case, the scary voice filled with power made the men anxious so he decided to not question the man any further.

***

Inside a manor slept a middle-aged man. He was a recently appointed governor of a fort city Bargor. Having little experience in such matters, he left most of the work for his secretary Josephine though. Unfortunately, not even he could avoid the event taking place right now.

He was woken up by a hysteric knocking on his thick oak door.

“What the hell is going on…” he yawned and rolled around on the soft bed.

“Gov…nor! G…venor!” the voice behind the door screamed and made the person in question unable to keep his eyes shut.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath and climbed out of the bed. He brought it from his family house back in Grillinbane. “I’m coming!” he shouted back as he slipped into his slippers. The person in the corridor didn’t hear and continued knocking.

Feeling the anger going through his head the governor slammed the door open. “What is it damn it?! Didn’t I say to not intervene with my sleep?!” The halls echoed with his voice, probably waking up all of the servants. Not that he cared of course.

“Y-yes, Sir Governor,” the guard straightened his back and saluted, “Serge told me to come. A magus has appeared!”

“A magus? What are you on about?” It didn’t make sense to him. The fort city was all the way in the north, where the winters were cold and annoying, filled with all manner of beasts and other troublesome things he had to constantly take care of.

“I don’t know, Sir, but he was alone… Maybe bandits attacked him?”

Bandits? Didn’t I take care of them already…?

“What school did he belong to?”

“I couldn’t see, Sir.” The guard thought for a moment and then added. “But his robe was red.”

“A magus of fire then.” Governor nodded. “But weren’t they summoned at the Capital? It’s unusual to see rogue mages.” The guard couldn’t respond; politics wasn’t something commoners meddled in.

Maybe he has an important message for me?

“Go wake Josephine, I’ll meet this magus.”

***

Approximately 20 minutes later the governor rushed out through his front door. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go far, since Sergeant Gibs stood in the courtyard with the mage. The rain seemed to have stopped at some point.

Remembering his training the governor approached his guest and executed a perfect bow. “Welcome Sir Magus. I’m Josset Gide, the governor of Bargor.” He peeked at the mage, catching the glimpse of his sigil. “May the inferno guide you well.” A long pause passed as Josset stayed bowing waiting for a response.

“Welcome.” The mage finally answered making the governor straighten up and a chill go down his spine. Disregarding the owner’s voice, Josset wondered why the magus didn’t introduce himself.

“If I may be so bold to ask, what is your name?”

Another long pause took place, making the governor pop a single vein on his forehead.

“Magus. Is my name.”