In the Hennings Tower of Magic, time was both an abundant resource and one that required careful budgeting. Research projects, paperwork, meetings with subordinates, meetings with superiors, studying, training, and whatever personal pursuits one chose to indulge in… there was always something that needed doing. Luckily, a skilled mage had hundreds of years to get it all done. Life in the tower was a constant struggle, one which felt like it would never end.
Or, at least that’s how it was for Mage-Adept Hana Sovros, who was currently sitting in her office rubbing her eyes with her palms while trying to stifle a yawn. The holograms floating above her desk displayed the current research grant requests from the cities she was in charge of monitoring, along with historical records showing how similar cities had been treated during equivalent levels of development. Dropping her hands to the arms of her chair, she leaned back in her seat and stared blankly at the floating ‘headaches’ for a while.
Not for the first time, she wondered what the Walker would think about her chosen profession. As a liaison between the Hennings Tower of Magic and the Directors of Research, she helped them discover the answers to questions that had already been answered. Her entire job was to subtly and carefully guide research directions for the younger cities while ensuring they didn’t kill themselves due to their ignorance. Were it not incredibly illegal, she could simply give them the completed research papers from the archives, but she knew she wouldn’t. It was just so exhausting to have the same cycle repeating itself with every new city founded within the kingdom.
‘The Walker would tell me I’m wasting my life with this nonsense,’ she told herself, probably for the thousandth time.
But, part of her knew that what she was doing was both necessary and important work. What she was doing was like gardening. She was helping these cities grow, aiding them while they chase their dreams and reach for a higher level. It was a proven fact that lessons given were not nearly as useful as lessons learned.
‘But do I have to be the one doing it?’ she mentally griped.
She remembered when she’d first joined the tower. She’d been so young and full of life. Everything was new and exciting. Each day was filled with hard-earned knowledge and victories against her competitors. By the time she was 100 years old, she was already level 53.
But then came the responsibility she’d earned with her success. Her pace along her path slowed like everyone’s does, and now it had recently slowed to a crawl. For over 200 years she’d been at her job, and she was barely level 67. She hadn’t achieved Arch-mage status, or done anything of note in years. And while age creep hadn’t caught up to her, it was only a matter of time.
But, if there was one thing she’d learned from the Walker, it was that everyone’s journey was personal. She needed to decide what she wanted and not let anyone’s opinion or perspective influence her identity. Her personal beliefs and desires should be the only thing that mattered to her. How she contributed to society was up to her, and no one else. She was on her own path, and it required courage and resolve to walk it.
For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was moving forward again.
The door to her office slammed open, and her assistant Kevin rushed in followed by Mage-adept Dustiny. Hana could tell right away by their faces that it wasn’t an emergency. They were both just overly excited about something again.
“What is it this time?” she asked.
Kevin’s smile was so big his eyes were nearly closed, while Cadence was bouncing around like she’d just leveled.
Mage-adept Dustiny couldn’t contain herself and shouted, “Cadence just uploaded a new record of the Walker! We need to go to the Hall of Adventure to access it!”
Not wasting a second, Hana began closing down her work. From what she could tell from the last record she’d seen, this one should be showing the Walker’s return to combat. After the introduction of his ‘Wackos’ and several interesting philosophical discussions, she was looking forward to seeing some action again. ‘Even after having been raised to a unique, he chooses to stay and fight. He walks his path in defiance of convention, choosing to protect what he loves while manipulating the system into having others pay him for it. He makes the game look effortless. The Walker is an inspiration!’ she remarked to herself happily.
She heard Kevin ask from the door, “Do you mind if I come along? I don’t want to wait until my shift is over.”
Not bothering to pause what she was doing, she asked absently, “Did you finish the analysis on Veceen’s request for military aid? If I recall correctly, it had something to do with their research into the Barrow-site dungeon, correct?” Immediately changing her mind, she continued, “You know what? You can finish it later. This is more important.”
Ignoring Kevin’s gratitude, she marched through the door. Mage-adept Dustiny smoothly took up her place alongside her while Kevin followed along behind them.
Kevin nervously noted, “This is the first time I’ll be seeing the Hall of Adventure after it was renamed!”
Looking over her shoulder, she glared at him and sniped, “Not in the hallways!”
“Sorry, Mage-adept,” he replied sheepishly.
On the right, Mage-adept Dustiny chuckled merrily at the young man’s awkward enthusiasm.
Hana resumed walking while thinking about how well their little group was doing. They’d finally agreed on a name… The Adventure Society. Unsurprisingly, it was due to the Walker’s influence more than anything else. After thinking about it, she couldn’t believe they had actually been trying to start a knightly order under the Walker. That wasn’t what her Lord was about at all. He truly was… an adventurer. Even thinking about the word made her smile.
It was the reason they all chose to follow his example. The sense that there was ‘more’ to discover, more to see, more to do! Never in her life had she felt like her path was so unobstructed, and it was all thanks to the Walker.
She couldn’t wait to see him in action once again!
—--
Nero had seen many variations of Nick’s ‘shocked’ expression, but he had to admit, this one was something special. The man was absolutely paralyzed with indecision as to how to reply to his statement. Having spoken without thinking, Nero had to mentally rewind to figure out what he’d said to cause such a hilarious response.
Recalling what he’d said, Nero had to admit it probably sounded pretty crazy to someone who’d grown up with peer pressure being more than a mere psychological tactic. In this world, ‘community’ and ‘the soul of the people’ were real, measurable things. For Nero to so blatantly dismiss them, while also priding himself on his individuality, Nick must be both confused and horrified.
Choosing to clarify his statement, Nero tried to calm his friend down. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I don’t want to be part of the community, or that I want to ‘reject my humanity’ or anything. It’s just that I want my choices to be free of any outside influences. The idea that other people’s feelings can affect my thought process is terrifying to me. I’m too much of a snowflake to allow myself to melt into the puddle of mob mentality,” he said while chuckling internally at the pop culture references he was able to slip into his explanation.
Nick’s dropped jaw closed with a snap, and Nero could see the man struggle to understand his point of view.
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“I suppose I can see that. Without having grown up with a physical sense of those around you, it follows that the people from your world were very individualistic and self-centered. From what you told me of your world, I can only assume that a lot of your culture's problems came from people choosing to band together with others who shared similar or compatible personal beliefs,” replied Nick with a thoughtful look on his face.
Nero nodded quickly, accepting Nick’s point immediately. “It feels like it was the total opposite of here. In this world, a sense of community happens when a bunch of people come together. But back home, communities were founded by people who went out and searched for people who agreed with them. I’m betting that’s why the culture here follows ‘logic’ and separates opinions from their laws. Otherwise, you’d all end up agreeing with each other to death,” he said.
Nick frowned as if insulted. “Well obviously. You can’t just create laws that follow the will of the people without reason. That would lead to nothing but chaos… Oh, right,” he replied, before remembering how Nero described his old world.
Nero chuckled, not even remotely offended by Nick’s categorization of Earth’s factional nature.
Their conversation was interrupted by an explosion in the center of the kobald horde. Nero felt himself instinctually duck at the sound. ‘Right… war’s still going on. Not the time for philosophy lessons that are actually physics lessons,’ he reminded himself.
The crowd of troops had pushed both him and Nick further back from the line, and he had to admit he wasn’t exactly unhappy about it. While he’d enjoyed his time on the front lines, his mind seemed to be struggling with the real-world applications of social philosophy he had been confronted with.
All around him, he could still ‘feel’ the communal desire to fight for humanity and the inherent ‘need’ to wipe out the invaders. It was hard not to just let himself go and get lost in it.
Nick’s hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. “Not that I don’t enjoy our little talks, but I don’t think this is the right time for it. You should probably be seen fighting with your adherents if you wish to successfully bind them to your house,” Nick said as if he were reminding Nero that only good boys get dessert.
Nero nodded in agreement before letting Nick lead him back through the crowd.
On the way, Nero wondered if ‘loyalty’ here was more like animal imprinting back home. Would the wackos become more loyal over time as they grew closer? In a world like this, where philosophy and magic worked together to define reality, was joining a house more like choosing to let yourself be brainwashed?
Remembering the overwhelming feeling he had when he’d given his oath to Dorchester, he suddenly worried that he might have already accidentally drunk the metaphorical Kool-aid. ‘Could that be why I haven’t already ditched this city? I mean, I’m all for adventure, but why the hell am I putting my ass on the line for these people? Has their stupidity somehow infected me through my essence field?’ he wondered.
Nero’s thoughts were interrupted by Nick’s not-so-subtle push, and he found himself back in combat with the kobalds. He idly noticed that he was replacing one of his wackos who’d retreated with a limp. ‘He’s probably heading off to get healed,’ he thought absently.
He felt himself fall back into the rhythm of combat. His shield and sword were becoming second nature to him at this point. The kobald’s hissing and poor weapon skills were getting easier and easier to overcome. Although, this time the fighting was much more continuous. It wasn’t at all like it was when he’d been fighting them in waves. Here, they were packed together like sardines, and it reminded him of when he’d fought with the elites to close the portal.
While he’d prefer to be practicing his magic, he had no problem with fighting in melee. After all, he still had his mage armor up, so he wasn’t in all that much danger at the moment.
Speaking of which, his armor was much easier to maintain than he remembered. It might have something to do with how he’d cast it, but it was probably just due to good old-fashioned practice.
After skewering a kobald on his sword, he used his shield to push the corpse off the blade. He took a moment to enjoy a brief respite while the dead body hindered the kobalds behind it. However, that didn’t last long as the kobalds simply shoved their former comrade into the dirt and stepped over him like he was already forgotten.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand how these things think,’ he told himself.
Blocking a spear thrust with his shield, he lashed out with the tip of his sword to keep another kobald off balance. There were so many bodies under his feet that he had to be careful to watch his step. With the fighting being in such close quarters, there just wasn’t enough room to clear out the enemy casualties.
It was almost shocking how quickly circumstances changed when the kobald bodies piled up enough to be an actual problem. Nero guessed it only took around 20 minutes, and a few discrete 10 or 15-foot retreats before the kobalds were forced to physically CLIMB over their dead to attack them. Yes, they still did attack, but the pace of the battle became slow enough that their efforts became almost sad.
Eventually, Nero watched as kobald shamans who’d been hanging back were forced to start burning their dead to clear a path. The fact that they were even out here in the middle of melee seemed pointless to him. Between the overhead shields, their short stature, and the instability of the ether, it wasn’t like they could actually DO anything. ‘Maybe they are feeling left out, and just decided to try and be helpful?’ he wondered.
Unfortunately, setting fire to piles of bodies with magic in the middle of their forces turned out to be a terrible idea. Who knew?
Whatever fight the kobalds had left was burned out in short order as the magically-fed flames spread rapidly. Nero backed up with the rest of the army and just watched the poor lizards burn in their own personal hell. It was a monstrous sight that would haunt his nightmares for weeks… probably… or at least possibly.
Nero couldn’t help but snort as he watched one brilliant kobald try and smother the flames on another one by hitting it over the head with his spear. Had there not been as much death and misery in the air, he would have laughed out loud at the sight of it.
He got his answer to why the kobald shamans and casters were there when the shields over the kobald’s forces faltered. They must have been there to actively maintain the shields. But, apparently being in the middle of a tempest of fire was enough to disrupt their casting. As a result, it suddenly became open season for the human casters and Nero was finally able to witness what spell casting could do when it wasn’t held back by an opponent's shields.
Isolated pockets of kobalds erupted in fire and death as balls of multi-colored light rained down on them like artillery shells. Nero tried to spread out his senses to find out where they were coming from, but it was pointless as wherever the casters were, it wasn’t anywhere near him.
Regardless, at least from his vantage point near the front of the lines, he could see the spells target any area where the kobald’s shields fell. Which in turn seemed to open up more holes in the shields. Which led to more spells mercilessly bombarding them.
Nero stood alongside his wackos, having nothing to do but watch as the battle ended with the complete obliteration of their enemy. Neither he nor anybody else felt like cheering. It was a massacre.
When the spells finally stopped falling, he heard Cathleen along with numerous other battle leaders call out, “Forward! Sweep and eliminate any survivors!”
Nero and the others did as they were told, striding forward to give mercy to any kobalds still among the living. The smell in the air of fried kobald was sickening, and the smoke hurt his eyes, but he still did it. ‘This is the shitty part of adventuring… but at least I’m not in a conference room,’ he told himself.
The clean-up took longer than the actual battle, but eventually, they got it done. When Cathleen finally called a halt to their search, Nero was well and truly ready for bed. The emotional turmoil from going from excitement to boredom, to defiance, to victory, to confusion, and then to the acceptance of the grim reality of war was enough to numb his mind to the point of apathy.
Luckily he recognized the signs and released his hold on his mage armor before he started staring at butterflies again. Or in this case, start seeing celebrities in the smoke clouds coming off the pyres of kobalds. The war-time version of cloud gazing wasn’t something he wanted to indulge in.
Before long, Nero found himself sitting on the ground with the wackos, looking every bit as drained as everyone else. He couldn’t even muster up the energy for one of the many lectures he needed Nick to give him or listen to Cathleen’s probable condemnation of his performance. All he felt like doing was sitting on his ass and sipping warm water from one of the canteens he’d squirreled away in his personal space.
“My Lord, sorry to bother you… but you’re the Smiling Death, right?” a man’s voice said, causing Nero to look up with confusion.
Nero squinted his eyes as he was currently in the man’s shadow, so it was a little hard to see. But, in front of him was a blood-soaked man who’d obviously had a rough time of it. The man’s shabby excuse for armor was in shreds and he was missing an entire pant leg. But, what Nero noticed most were his eyes. They were filled with an intensity that nearly made him flinch when he looked up at them.
Nero, still a little befuddled from recent events replied, “The ‘what’ now?”
The man, standing tall in front of him repeated, “The Smiling Death. The Little Lord. The Walker. You’re him… aren’t you? As a penal conscript, me and the other don’t have access to the identification functions on our links… but we know a hero when we see one.”
Nero, completely confused, replied, “Um… ok.”
Whoever he was didn’t seem offended, he just went on with what he had come over to say. “A lot of us weren’t happy about being forced to fight. Yeah, it was nice to get some serious time toward our sentences, but nobody wants to die for a few months of pay. But, seeing you out here fighting with us… foiling the hells be damned plans of the nobles to sacrifice good and decent men and women… Well, it was enough to remind us what it felt like to be part of Dorchester. We didn’t want to bother you with a bunch of people coming over and thanking you when you’re probably just as eager for a good meal and bed as we are… but I and everyone else just wanted to say ‘Thank you’... and may all the gods above bless you. You’re a true noble, and we’re proud to have fought alongside you,” he finished awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the emotions he was holding back.
Nero gulped to clear his throat before replying softly, “No problem. You all saved a lot of lives today. You go back and tell them that if it weren’t for them, our victory would have been hollow. So, thank you… you and everyone else who bled for Dorchester here today.”
The man’s smile was uncomfortably white on his soot-colored face. “Yes, my lord. I’ll tell ‘em. Thank you… I mean… Have a good rest, my lord,” he said, before shuffling off and rejoining the group he’d come over to represent.
Nero made eye contact with the group, widening his eyes at the look of respect on their faces. Subtly glancing around, he noticed that everywhere he looked, people were trying to stare at him without making it look like they were staring at him. The sense of everyone talking about him behind his back immediately made him emotionally recoil. He felt just like he did back in high school when he’d found out that everyone knew about him shitting his pants at Dough Fleischman’s birthday kegger over the weekend.
The wackos sitting around him were watching in silence, each filled with pride at what they’d accomplished. Their new lord had led them to a noble victory, reigniting the flame of humanity in the darkest of hearts and saving countless defenders of the city from a pointless sacrifice. This… this was a good day.
Their lord’s voice broke them out of their thoughts. “What did he mean by ‘penal conscript’? Are all these assholes criminals?” he whisper-shouted in surprise.