It felt like hours before Roland and Grant arrived in the chamber, and during that time I sat down, cleaning my sword, going through everything that had happened. No matter how hard I tried to think of the possibilities, nothing added up. Who was “his majesty” that the alchemist worked for? What was with the black sand? And how was it able to move like that? Once I was sure that my sword was thoroughly clean, I sheathed it, unstrapped it from my belt, and put it back in my bag. As if she knew what I was thinking, Sylvani spoke up. “I think we might be in over our heads with this one.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, absentmindedly.
“Think about it,” she continued as she went through all the alchemy equipment, searching for things that could fetch some coin. A common practice with a lot of hunters. “First, we find a krogar with black sand in its stone. Next, after fighting a flesh golem and an alchemist, black sand kills our only lead as to what in the hell is going on?”
“Which ends up leaving us with more questions than answers.” I finished. “Yeah, it is something that is on my mind too.” As if on cue, I hear two sets of boots running down the hallway. Looking up I see Roland and Grant, covered in blood, heading our way. “Trust me, I may know someone with the answers to said questions.”
“What questions?” Grant asked before looking at the puddle of black sludge and the husk of the alchemist next to it. “What the hell happened here?”
“I see you two had some fun.” Roland said, looking between me and Sylvani. “Care to tell us what happened? More importantly,” he gestures towards the husk, “who’s the mummy?”
“Gentlemen,” I said, making a grand gesture of the action, like I was introducing royalty. “May I introduce Lord Adrian Aldersal Parr, his majesty’s alchemist. Or at least what’s left of him.”
“Charmed,” Roland replied, barely suppressing a grin before looking up at me. “Your doing?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t have that kind of power.”
“What about the puddle?” Grant asked, kneeling to examen the black sludge.
“That’s what left of the flesh golem that greeted us when we arrived.” Sylvani answered, making Grant jump back in both disgust and surprise.
“You too?” Roland asked with genuine surprise. “We met some down in the entryway. Nothing too big, human sized mainly.”
“Ours was big, had three arms, stubby legs, and was named Hugo.” I said, prompting Roland to laugh.
“What is it with big monsters having names?” He said, looking at Grant. “I swear, every time there is some huge goliath of a spider, it’s gotta have some weird name like Arachnee the Marrow Drinker. Am I the only one who thinks this is ridiculous?”
“That’s not all,” I said, cutting off his laughter. “Something happened.” Grant and Roland looked at me, urging me to continue. “Somehow, and trust me, I don’t know how, the same black sand that we found in the krogar’s stone was here. But, and this gonna sound crazy, it was alive.” There was a moment of silence as everyone let it all sink in. After that moment had passed, Roland was the first to speak up.
“You know that Master Varik will want to hear about this,” he said. “Don’t you?” I nodded.
“I’ll talk to him when we get back. But first,” I hefted my bag over my head and on to my shoulder, “I need to turn in my hunt.”
It took another hour or so before we finally made it to the Hunter’s Lodge in New Dale, the capital city of Cyrus. By the time I had turned in my hunt, marking myself as a full-fledged Hunter, the sun was setting. Not wanting to delay things any longer, we made our way to Castle Valerion. After a five-minute trek, the front gates appeared before us. And, as if he was waiting for me, so was Master Varik. Master Varik Daltmar isn’t really a physically opposing man. He stands at around 3 and a half feet, with white hair, half-moon glasses, and robes of white, brown, and green. Clutched in his right hand, as if it were fused to him, is his staff. It was made completely of wood, with a leather grip, and a large emerald set into the top. He looked old, but he was very nimble, and always had a mischievous glint in his eyes. It took only a few days for me to recognize him as my better. And, I’ll admit, he always seems to brighten any room he entered.
“Well,” Master Varik said, a smile playing at the edge of his lips, “it appears to me that you all just happened to make it in the nick of time. Your father was about ready to send the royal guard after you.” He looked up towards Roland as we dismounted. “Especially you, Sire. The king was most anxious to see you safely home.”
“You worry too much, Master Varik,” Roland said with a hearty laugh. “I’ll head to Father right now and ease his worry.”
“You misunderstand me, your highness,” Master Varik said with a bow. “Your father has been badgering me, nonstop. Even though I kept telling the old fool that you’d arrive before the sky turned dark. And here you are.” Both Roland and Varik shared a laugh, and my brother made his way inside. “As for you,” Varik said, looking towards Grant, “the baker’s daughter sends a message. Telling you that she’s waiting for you tomorrow at first light.”
“Aye,” Grant said, making his way past Master Varik. “I’ll also make sure to let her know that she shouldn’t bother you with trivial things.”
“Quite the contrary,” Master Varik said with a smile, “I enjoy speaking with her. And her father’s honey bread is to die for.” He chuckled, before turning to me and Sylvani. Holding out his hand, he continued. “And who is this lovely lady?”
“Sylvani Dene,” Sylvani replied, shaking Varik’s hand. “Huntress of the Southern Glen.”
“A Huntress,” Master Varik said in surprise. “I’m ecstatic to meet one of your order. Which begs the question, what brings you to our humble home?” It took a few minutes to explain what had happened on our return trip that, by the time we finished the story, we were standing outside of Master Varik’s cottage. “Well, well.” Varik mused, “A krogar in a hot spring, and a life debt. Very interesting. But what is more peculiar is the black sand.” He looked towards me. “You say you saw an island at the center of a storm with a city at its heart when you touched it?”
“Yes,” I replied. And it was at that precise moment that I saw something that chilled me to my very core. The always cheerful Master Varik had a look that was a mixture of both fear and worry. “Master Varik?” I asked, concern creeping at the edge of my voice. “Is everything okay?”
“In all my years,” Master Varik replied, “I never thought I would live to see the day he would return.”
“Who?” Sylvani asked curiously.
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“Theobarr Magnus,” Varik continued as he entered his cottage. “The self-proclaimed King of Mages.” Varik took a deep breath before continuing. “Theobarr Magnus was like you, Markus. A mage born into a royal family. His specialty was the black sand you spoke of. He used it to make a sort of hollow golem that was twice as strong as a stone golem, but with less material. As time grew on, so did his power until he took upon himself the title of King of Mages. Soon, his search for power became a lust for it, which drove him mad. To the point that he attempted one of our order’s most ancient and forbidden spells. A spell that, if cast correctly, would have granted him sole control over magic itself. The Spell of the Avatar. On that day, something went very wrong. The spell was incomplete. A missing component that was lost through the ages that none of our more advanced scholars could find. Now, with most spells, when they backfire, there is mostly a bang and a cloud of smoke. But this spell... when it backfires, your body becomes the magic that you wish to control. This is the price you pay for attempting to become a god. Somehow, Magnus thought ahead. He had his craftsmen forge for him a set of armor, made of maginite, known more commonly as magi-steel, which he used to contain himself. As a means of preventing his body from breaking down even further. Realizing the threat this would make for the rest of the world, the Council of Mages sealed off Garten Island, the home of the mages. Hopefully containing the King and his magic once and for all.”
“But he’s still there, isn’t he?” I ask in anticipation.
“Yes...” Master Varik sighed then looked straight at me before continuing. “Now listen, Markus. What I’m about to tell you, you must not tell anyone. As much as I joke around with your father, I trust and respect him. He is a good man, and a great king. His chancellor on the other hand... Something about him is off, but I’m not too sure what that something is. For now, let us keep this to ourselves.” With a short glance towards Sylvani, he said, “I can trust that you would agree, Miss Dene?”
“Of course, Master Varik.” Sylvani replied.
“Very well,” Varik said with a nod of his head. “If we are to stop what I fear is coming, we will need allies. Not just the entire Alliance, but Ulveskare, Tàiyáng, and the Southern Ilse. Now, I am certain that Tàiyáng and the Ilse will be willing to fight alongside us, but only after the war with Ulveskare has ended. And, as much as I would love for peace between our two nations, most of the Alliance see the men from the north as primitive barbarians. The only exception to this is your father, but he is only one king out of many that sit on the Council of Kings. So, if we are to end this war, we must find a way to convince the other kings.”
“Why?” I said without thinking. Both Varik and Sylvani looked at me with confusion. Since I figured that I was already looking like a fool, I might as well try and make something up. “Why not just have us go to Ulveskare ourselves and try and convince the High King that we want peace? Father said that he was an understanding man, but they have their own ways and beliefs.” Master Varik had an interesting look on his face.
“That is true,” Varik said, deep in thought. “Cyrus sits on the north-western coast of the Alliance. We could make the trip if needed.” Then he shook his head. “But we come back to the same problem. If the other kingdoms within the Alliance were to see one of our ships heading North, they’ll believe that we wish to go to war with them.”
“Not necessarily,” Sylvani said. “If we hire a fishing vessel to take us to Ulveskare, no one will really question us. The Northern Sea, the stretch of water between the Alliance and the North, is a well-known fishing lane.” Varik snapped his fingers and nodded.
“That will work.” He said with a huge smile. “Now all we have to do is convince your father of this plan and we can put it into action.”
“Without alerting him to the danger that the three of us know might be coming?” I asked, even though I knew what that answer would be. All Master Varik did was nod solemnly as I put my hand to my chin. I needed to find a way to convince my father to let us sail to Ulveskare and make peace with the High King of Wolf Rock. But how to do that. It was then, while I was in deep thought, I heard humming heading our way. My mother’s humming. And that was when it hit me. My mother was a princess to the kingdom of Cardal north of us, the kingdom that Sylvani was from. She and my father were brought together through a tradition that the Western Alliance use constantly, political marriage. That was our in. With a knowing smile, I leaned back. “I have a plan. But the person it involves will take some convincing.” Before anyone could say anything, my mother came into view with a soft smile.
“Ah,” she said with her melodic voice, “there you are Markus. Your father was wondering where you ran off to. Master Varik.” She gave a slight bow of acknowledgement to the aged wizard before looking at Sylvani. “Dear, honored sister. Welcome to my home.” Sylvani’s eyes went wide.
“You were a huntress?” She asked in surprise.
“Were?” My mother said with incredulity. “I can still handle a bow, if the need calls for it. Now then,” she turned back to me, “your father is looking for you. Something about an alchemist in our territory?” Cursing one of my two brothers, I looked at Master Varik, who only gave a slight chuckle.
“Go on, Boy.” He said, waving me off. “I’m certain your mother and I would be more than happy to show our new guest around. I for one am curious as to how you hold a life debt with her.” Not waiting for a second longer, I rushed towards the castle. Trusting my gut as I ran through the labyrinthian hallways that I grew up in, I headed towards my fathers study, the one place that I knew he would be in. My father, King Bayard Valerion, is an imposing man of his own right. Tall and broad, he wears his crown with regal authority. But his eyes were always what made me curious about him as I grew up. Beneath his short mane brown hair, speckled with grey, his eyes looked out upon the world with a mixture of curiosity, cunning intellect, and the shrewd gaze of a man who has fought in enough battles to know the true price of war. As I entered his study, I saw him standing behind his desk, looking over what I could only assume was a map of his kingdom. Shutting the door behind me with what I thought was a soft click, my father looked up. His half-moon spectacles set on the bridge of his nose as close to his eyes as he could get them.
“So,” he started with a slight, but heartfelt chuckle, “I see I was correct on sending Willow to Varik to find you. Figures you would go to your teacher before coming to me.” As I was about to ask, Father raised his hand to stop me. “I know what you wish to ask. It was your brother, Grant, that let it slip that we had an alchemist in our territory. I’ve dispatch a troop of soldiers to the castle to clear out the rest of that equipment. What isn’t useful to Master Varik and the castle scholars will be destroyed.” I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding, before he continued. “What has me curious is what your brothers didn’t say. When I pressed them for answers, they only said that you knew more on the subject then they did. So, my question to you is,” he came out from behind his desk, only to sit on the edge. Crossing his arms, he asked, “What happened when you fought the alchemist?” After taking a few breathes, I retold the story of what happened at Astalar Castle. Making sure to omit only the parts that Master Varik had recently told me. After my explanation was concluded, my father removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So,” he said after a second or two of silence, “what did Master Varik have to say on this matter when you told him?”
“He said,” I explained, “that he had a theory as to who’s behind this. However,” I continued raising my hand to stop my father. Which seems to b a habit that I, to his and the rest of my family’s annoyance, had inherited from him, “he believes that if his theory is correct, he is unsure who he can trust.”
“Any Varik would most likely convey his theory to me when he knows that he can control the situation.” Father said with a knowing nod. “Understandable. Varik isn’t one to keep me in the dark unless it is absolutely vital. Now begs the question, if trouble is on the horizon, how are we best going to avoid said trouble?” I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I knew I had to tell him my proposition.
“We know that if there is an oncoming threat,” I began, momentum carrying me, “the war between the Western Alliance and Ulveskare need to be brought to an end.” I paused, both to catch my breathe and to let Father catch up. “My idea, and believe me, this might be a long shot, would be to have a political marriage between a member of one of the allied kingdoms, and one of the children of the High King.” As I looked at my father, I caught what I thought was the faintest glint in his eyes. “I may have an idea as to who would be the perfect candidate for such an occasion.”
“Are you suggesting,” he said as he stood up, “that I arrange a political marriage between your brother and some unknown princess from Ulveskare, behind the backs of all the other kings within the Alliance?” I nod. Laughing, my father patted me on the back. “As your grand father would always say, it is always better to do something right, and ask for forgiveness later.” Heading towards the door with a good natured smile, he looked back and said, “Come. Let us find that foolish older brother of yours, and begin making preparations at once.