Letty turned an even deeper reddish hue as she heard yesterday’s words again, trying to steal glances at Regis.

“Oh come on,” Valerie smacked her brother in the shoulder. “They were adorable in their awkward nerdy way. I remember your first confession back at that gathering of the five families went far worse.”

“Oh no.” Fabien shuddered as he heard those words.

“What? Juliet was a lovely girl.”

“Please, stop!” The infernal cringed at the memory.

“Okay? What’s this about” Mary asked the two, Valerie laughing as she answered.

“My big brother had the hots for one of the daughters from the Cascara family, so after having a few glasses of champagne to gather his courage, he confessed.”

“Did he got rejected or something?” Regis looked at his friend’s awkward and pained expression.

“Quite the contrary,” Val chuckled. “The girl was blushing and all kinds of happy, except that she wasn’t the one he meant to confess to.”

“Wait, what?” Cruz looked at the two puzzled.

“Twins.”

“Oh shit.” Regis crunched his nose bridge as he imagined the awkwardness of the situation.

“Yeah. Juliet was so happy right until the moment Fabien called her by her sister’s name. Then all hell broke loose.”

“I can imagine that.” Cruz nodded along, excitedly waiting for the rest of the story.

“She chased him across the ballroom, hurling fire bolts after him, calling him all kinds of idiot for not being able to tell them apart, despite supposedly being in love with one of them.”

“So, how did it end?” Letty finally spoke up after getting to her senses.

“Jeanette swooped in and saved my brother, only to gently let him down by telling him that she already had someone.”

“Ouch,” Osmond sighed, patting the infernal on the shoulder. “Must have been painful, but don’t give up my friend.”

“Anyway, we should wrap this up and get going. There’s plenty to do.”

And there really was plenty to do. After a quick breakfast, the outlanders joined up with the rest of the early arriving villagers to clear up the area around the Landwaker tree. Regis erased the firepit using his ‘terraforming’ magic before using his spells to clear away whatever got spilt on the cobblestones. Half an hour later almost everything was back to normal, so he turned his attention toward the more pressing matters.

He walked over to the empty plot of land where the small bakery once stood and he began to raise condensed earth walls according to the construction drawings he made for the chapel. When he had a two-metre high outline created, the earth wall got turned into bright-coloured sandstone. The dark elf then conjured piles of sandstone bricks for the construction team to work with before heading back to the inn.

“Milord,” Lars called out to him, struggling to catch up. “Are you sure about the drawings? Why would we put a circular hole above the door and those long ones on the side? There’s no need for seven windows for both sides on a chapel this size.”

“Lars. How many paths and saints exist?”

“S… seven.” The man answered as the realization dawned on him.

“I intend to get a set of stained glass windows for each.”

“But the price of fourteen stained glass windows that big would be…

“It’s not that big,” Regis sighed. “Most chapels back on earth had larger ones. A one-fifty by seventy-five centimetre window would count as average at most. And don’t worry about the price. I have it covered.”

Saying that the dark elf went inside, cutting the argument short. After reaching his room, he spent some time donning his armour and meditating before he returned to the gateway gazebo, using it to travel to Hunor in a flash of bright light. The port town was as busy as always, but no guardsmen could be seen anywhere close by. ‘Looks like I got lucky this time.’ He thought while knocking on the door of the spellcasters’ guild.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming.” A familiar voice could be heard from the other side of the door, followed by a familiar face when the door got opened.

“Hey there Salvador.” He greeted the man, earning a genuine smile in return.

“Regis, come on in! What brought you here?”

“Well,” the spell weaver sighed. “The thing is, a new ally of mine managed to inherit the head position of a noble family and she’s in dire need of a mage advisor.”

“Oh,” the man nodded while the two walked closer to the counter, the dark elf returning a few nods aimed at his way. “And you came here to recruit one for her? What rank?”

“Tier two or above would be the best, but a high tier one should be fine if no one here fits that level.”

“Second-tier spellcasters don’t grow on trees you know,” the man hummed. “There’s only three of us left in Hunor and…”

“I’ll go.” Another familiar voice resounded throughout the common room as Galen walked closer from a corner table he was sitting at, followed by a black-haired woman.

“Now hold on Galen...” His friend tried to stop him, but the man just shook his head.

“Hunor doesn’t welcome us any more. You know that and so does everyone else here. This might be the best chance Magda and I get to leave while we can.”

“Magda?” The spell weaver asked, the black-haired woman stepping closer with a slight smile.

“That would be me. Nice to meet you, Regis. My husband told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise nice to meet you,” Regis answered with an obvious surprise on his face. “So the two of you are willing to come with me?”

“Yes,” Galen nodded. “There’s no point staying in Hunor any longer. As long as your lady friend isn’t as bad as Verhen, we will be better off there.”

“Alright,” the dark elf agreed. “Do you need time to pack up or…”

“Just give us five minutes,” Magda answered before heading upstairs. “Dear, don’t forget to collect your debts.”

“Oh, right. I’ll be back.” Galen snapped into attention, hurriedly leaving the guild building.

“Damn,” Salvador cussed. “First Chera and now Galen too. You’re taking away all the good people from here.”

“It was their decision.”

“I know, but what about the rest of us? I’m starting to hate Hunor, or rather I hate what it’s becoming under that posh prick’s rule. Day after day I have to watch as folks flee.”

“Then why don’t you leave as well?” Regis asked with genuine concern in his tone. “I’m sure you’d be able to find a place to settle down inland. The war and the plague left a lot of vacant positions.”

“True,” the spellcaster sighed. “But there are still people here who need me. I think I’ll wait for a few more weeks to see how things turn out. If nothing changes for the better, I’ll head out toward East Fork.”

“Are you still moping?” Magda asked as she returned with two heavy-looking knapsacks, the dark elf taking one of them to help.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just look after Galen, will you?”

“You know I will. Take care Salvador and come visit us sometime.”

“I will.” The man nodded as he escorted the two out of the guild building.

Galen was walking towards them with hasty steps, his previously cheerful attitude long gone.

“I hope you’re ready to go because we have to leave. Now!”

“What happened?” His wife asked as the three hurried over to the gateway.

“They did.” Galen looked over to a nearby street that had several armed figures rushing out of it.

“Not this shit again.” Regis sighed as he activated the gateway, teleporting them to Mistfield in a flash of light.

“Who were those soldiers?” Magda asked her husband after fighting off the slight dizziness caused by the gateway.

“Someone must have informed Verhen’s guard dogs about us leaving.”

“Why would that matter? You’re free mages.” Regis looked at him puzzled.

“The bastard wanted to coerce me into becoming his new advisor after Chera left. I said no and he took that rather personally.”

“It might have something to do with you telling him that you would never serve a bloody tyrant.” His wife hummed, making the man scratch the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Lord Regis!” They heard from the side, noticing a small group of guards walk closer to the gateway with hasted steps.

“Are they…”

“Welcome back to Mistfield, sire. We didn’t expect you to visit us so soon.” The leader of the soldiers said cordially, although his voice was a bit strained.

“I promised Lady Zola that I would try to bring over a skilled spellcaster to replace House Vidal’s former mage advisor. Luckily for her, a friend of mine and his wife chose to accept her invitation.”

“I see,” the soldier hummed while giving a slight bow to Galen and Magda. “Welcome to Mistfield. Please follow us to the Lady’s manor.”

“Thank you!” Magda said with a gentle smile, easing the soldiers’ nervousness.

While they were led to the Vidal manor, they saw soldiers and servants busily working around the area. When the group reached the entrance, the guards at the entrance snapped to attention. After they gave a slight bow to Regis, one of the soldiers hurried inside, only to return a good minute later with a greying-haired and formally dressed man.

“Greetings, Lord Regis,” the man nodded with a warm and courteous smile. “Lady Zola is waiting for you in the study.”

“Thank you, Sir Desimir.”

“Oh, you… you remember me?” The man with the scar on his face looked back at Regis surprised.

“How could I not? You were the first to swear your fealty to Zola.”

“Indeed,” the man nodded as he ushered the three inside the manor. “She was gracious enough to name me as her steward not long after you left.”

“An important position,” Magda remarked. “And one that needs an experienced person. I’m sure her ladyship trusts you deeply if she entrusted the role of stewardship onto you.”

“And I’ll try my hardest to earn her trust.” The old man replied while leading them through the corridor of the manor, reaching the door of the previous lord’s study.

“My lady,” he said after gently knocking on the door. “May we enter?”

“Of course.” Zola’s familiar voice resounded from the other side.

As Regis and the others were led into the room, the sight of a somewhat tired-looking young woman greeted them. Zola stood up from her seat and walked around the desk to greet her guests.

“I must admit; I didn’t expect you to visit me so soon. And with guests. Welcome to Mistfield!” She said with a tired smile.

“Thank you, Lady Vidal.” Magda spoke while Galen just nodded.

“Might I know who the two of you are?”

“I am Galen Horst and this is my wife Magda,” the spell caster introduced himself and his wife. “We came here because young Regis told us that you find yourself in need of a mage advisor.”

“Oh,” Zola hummed somewhat surprised. “And you have decided to accept my invitation?”

“My husband and I were already planning to leave Hunor, but we didn’t have a good enough incentive before. Your current lack of an advisor brought us that motivation.”

“Wonderful,” the young noble beamed with a relieved smile before a frown and a slight disgust showed on her face. “Our family’s previous advisor was less than capable in my opinion, but he still managed to weasel himself into Lord Vidal’s favour and thus amassed quite a collection paid for by the people’s hard-earned coins. Of course, whatever he owned would be at your disposal. I can’t offer much since Mistfield is a small barony, but we have fertile lands and high walls.”

“A peaceful home is more than enough for us,” Magda remarked, easing Zola’s obvious nervousness. “I hope that we can help Mistfield become safe and prosperous once again.”

Regis felt that the atmosphere was getting friendly enough so he decided to excuse himself.

“Sorry for leaving so soon, but my steward is waiting for me with a foot-long list of work to do.”

“Oh,” Zola nodded understandingly. “Please take care and thank you for the help.”

“Don’t mention it. Magda, it was nice to meet you. Do take care of Galen.”

“I will,” the woman smiled. “Safe travels.”

With that, Regis left the room and one of the guards escorted him outside.

“You’re leaving already, sire?” The old steward asked when he noticed the dark elf.

“Lady Zola seems to have everything under control, so I figured I’d let the three of them have a proper conversation without me butting in. And besides. My steward’s likely waiting for me.”

“I see,” the old man nodded. “Take care then, sir.”

“Likewise.” Regis nodded before heading over to the gateway at the local market square.

On his way, he could see how the town of Mistfield became livelier compared to the previous day. Life seemed to be returning fast with people running about to do their job. Once at the gateway, the spell weaver activated his amulet, the portal swallowing him up in a flash of light. As the light faded, Thornfell greeted him in all of its grandeur.

Regis let out a sigh as he saw the familiar faces walk about on Landwaker Square.

“Judging by that goofy face of yours,” he heard a quirky voice from the side. “Things must have gone well with Zola.”

“She managed to get two advisors for the price of one, so I’d say it did go well,” the dark elf said as he turned toward Cruz. “Did anything happen while I was away?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. Druig dropped by, bringing back a corrupted wild boar he hunted down. Quentin has already cleansed it and Harrow should be done skinning it.”

“Some extra game it’s always welcome in the kitchen.”

“That’s what she said.” Fabien remarked with a wide grin as the two got closer to the inn.

“Is Quentin still...”

“He’s still a bit moody,” the infernal nodded. “But he seems to do a lot better now.”

“He just needs time.” Mary remarked.

“Or a good beating.” Cruz added.

‘What’s the meeting about?” Osmond’s voice resounded from behind them, the pale youth walking closer.

“Regis just got back from Zola’s place.”

“Did you manage to solve the mage advisor issue?”

“Yeah. Two for one type of deal.”

“Good. That should keep them off our back for a while.”

“Where are the others?”

“Quentin should be in the barracks. Letty is in the greenhouse with her apprentice and my sister went out once again to check out her supposed vineyard’s territory. Amanda and Sophie are busy in their workshop if the sound of hammering is of any indication.” Fabien hummed.

“So what should we do now?” Osmond asked the ominous and heavy question.

“Welcome back, milord.” Tristan said from afar as he walked toward them.

“For now,” Regis spoke after a few moments of silence. “We should do what we planned to do.”

“Which is?”

“We should turn Thornfell into a place worth living in.

“That’s an idea I can get behind.” Fabien agreed with a content sigh.

“We sure have our work cut out for us with all the new houses and whatnot waiting to be built.” Cruz remarked as she jabbed Osmond in the side.

“Perhaps, but we should have the means to do it. Isn’t that right, Lord Regis?”

“You’re going to work me to the bone aren’t you?”

“We wouldn’t dare.”

“Milord,” Tristan nodded as he finally reached the group. “I’m glad you have returned safely. Several matters need your attention.”

“Fuck.” Regis groaned as the rest of the group let out a slight chuckle.

The spell weaver looked at the still-growing Prismatic Landwaker glowing with a myriad of colours in his eyes that could see its true form beneath Letty’s spell and let out a sigh that was a mixture of excitement and relief. ‘I guess we really do have our work cut out for us, don't we?’

End of Book 3