1

Somewhere in the Northlands…

“Leader Luftar!”

A distress voice shouted from outside. He groaned and opened his eyes, groggy from sleep.

“What’s going on? It’s too early…”

A faint smell of burning wood reached his nostrils. He jolted awake and looked out the window in alarm.

“Oh no…”

He grabbed a piece of clothing and ran out the door. First he saw the Head Shaman’s shocked face; then he heard the screams.

“No! No-no-no!”

A wall of fire was engulfing the village.

“Sound the alarm!” he commanded.

But it was too late. The fire was methodically devouring a decade of work. The air was filled with the frantic screams of his tribe.

“Onyeya!” he pulled the Head Shaman by the shoulder.

She was staring at something in the distance, speechless. The fire’s glow was reflecting in her pale blue eyes, as tears started rolling down her face.

“Are you hurt?!”

“The fields…”

He followed her gaze and saw that the fields were on fire too, harbinging famine in the soon-to-come winter. He looked back at the Head Shaman.

“Help me get everyone to safety! We have to evacuate the village!”

“We worked so hard to make Skullhorn our home…” she muttered.

“We can’t save it now. It’s just… a place. We’ll find another one. I promise.”

She wiped the tears and nodded. At this point it was clear—they couldn’t save the village. Their only goal now was to save as many souls as possible.

2

Somewhere in the Sorcerer State…

As it was typical during the weekend, there were many people out and about on the breathtaking streets of Magiopolis—the capital of the Sorcerer State. Two guards desperately wanted to join them, as it was almost lunchtime, which meant they could take a break. They were guarding the entrance to a three-story gray brick building. From above one could see that the building formed a perfect circle on its outside perimeter. Inside was a courtyard, also circular—Wizards really loved their geometric architecture.

“Halt!” one of the guards—a young blue-haired male elf—stopped a man in a black hooded cape. “Please show me your papers.”

The man lowered his hood, revealing his short black hair, gray eyes, and a charming smile. He was a tall lean human in his early thirties.

“Hold your horses,” the other guard—a brown-haired older human—said to the first one. He smiled warmly at the caped man. “Sorry sir, he’s new here. You can go in!”

“Come on, don’t be harsh on the rookie! He’s doing his job well, which is commendable,” the human turned to the elf guard. “I’m Egon, a Circle Mage. And, sadly, I don’t have my papers with me. You see, I wasn’t planning to come to work today. But, alas, here I am.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t recognize you…” the elf guard lowered his gaze.

“Oh, please, it’s me who should apologize for breaking the rules,” Egon walked past the guards, then came back a second later. “How was the delivery?” he asked the other human.

“Splendid!” the brown-haired man beamed, “It’s a boy!”

“Wow, is that the third one?” the Circle Mage chuckled.

The blue-haired guard listened to the dialog with genuine astonishment in his eyes.

“Exactly! The wife now demands a fourth try—she’s determined to have a daughter. Speaking of her, she insisted I invited you to the baby shower. I told her you are beyond busy—”

“Quite the opposite; when and where?”

“Tomorrow evening at our place.”

“Wonderful; is our new friend invited?” he pointed at the elf.

“Of course! Could you please extend the invitation to your Companion?”

“What did you say?” Egon squeaked and stamped his foot theatrically. “Do I look like an errand boy to you?! How dare you—Of course I will, see you both there!” he added in his normal tone, while slipping inside the building.

The human guard laughed happily.

“What?” he saw the puzzled look in the elf’s slowly blinking eyes. “Not every Wizard treats us as inferiors. But I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him!”

***

Egon walked through the corridors, which were mostly empty except for some staff. He reached the door with the number thirteen on it and knocked.

“Come in,” a confident male voice said from inside.

Behind the door was a large office filled with bookshelves on every wall. Papers, folders, and maps were strewn all over the place, but there was a sense of calm order amid the chaos. There was one circular window, which looked out onto the courtyard, where the leaves of trees started transitioning from green to yellow.

At the center of it all was a wooden desk with another human man sitting behind it. This man had short gray hair and a goatee, and he was in his late fifties. He wore green mage armor with white accents.

“Ah, it’s you, Circle Mage Egon,” the older man said. “I honestly didn’t expect you to come so quickly on such short notice.”

“I was sure it was very important, since it came from you, Circle Mage Elskan. In fact, I believe this is the first time we are meeting face to face. It’s a pleasure to see you in person, sir,” the younger Wizard said, bowing respectfully.

“Please, please, there’s no need to be so formal! We both work at the Circle, don’t we? I may be older than you and I may have been in this position for a while, but that’s really nothing in the big picture,” he said, waving his hand casually. “Please, have a seat!”

Egon sat on a wooden chair in front of the desk.

“May I speak freely in your presence, sir?”

“Of course!”

“Then let me tell you that we both know that’s not the de-facto state of things around here. Otherwise, that old fart wouldn’t have scolded me six months ago for being the first to sit down after the Triangle gave their New Year’s speech. As if the speed at which my butt reaches the chair is somehow indicative of the level of my respect towards authority.”

“Ha-ha! Well said, well said.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, but why am I here? I got to Magiopolis this morning and was really looking forward to my first vacation since I joined the Circle almost two years ago. And then, right at the city gate, I get a note that summons me to you!”

“Hm, straight to business. I respect that. Have you heard of a village called Mistfall?”

“Yes, I think…” Egon’s forehead furrowed. “Somewhere up there in the Mankind Monarchy… Oh, yes, that’s the one near the border with the Elven Empire. What’s so special about it?”

“There is a certain… predicament around it.”

“Interesting,” Egon crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “And why exactly should this concern an Inner Circle Mage like yourself, Mr. Elskan Concord?”

“I… suppose I should be honest with you.”

“Please.”

“It is a personal matter. You see, I have… descendants in that area. Two sons. Their mother and I never got the chance to properly formalize our… relationship.”

“Wow. I can understand one, but two! That’s hardly an ‘oopsie’. I can only imagine that your wife here in the capital doesn’t know about your procreation crusade. And, just a wild guess, you want this to stay between us, right?”

Elskan managed to not let the young man’s snide remark be reflected on his face.

“Yes, that would be very helpful.”

“So what’s the exact issue with the village?”

“As you are well aware, the coming winter will be severe. And, according to my intel, there is not enough food in the village. And this is where—”

“…an Outer Circle Mage is needed, because you have no authority outside of the Sorcerer State. I get it. But why me? I excel at covert operations, yet logistics of this magnitude are anything but covert.”

“Two reasons. The first is that I need someone who is, as you said, good at not making a scene. As you can imagine, my situation is very delicate.”

Egon nodded with a fake serious face.

“And the second is that Felix vouched for you as someone reliable.”

Egon’s eyes rolled back in his head. He said after a pause:

“Fine. I owe him a lot. But not you, my dear colleague. I still don’t see what could make this venture worthwhile. And the matter of authority still remains. I can’t just stroll into the village and shout ‘Let me fix your food problems!’, don’t you suppose?”

“Well, I’ll have you know I actually came prepared. And, I think this is a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ situation.”

Elskan fished out a key from under his mage armor that hung around his neck. He opened one of the cabinets and took out two pieces of thick paper. He gave his guest the first one.

“I’m impressed. A promotion to Earldom,” Egon looked at the paper with curiosity. “Signed by the High King Jaeden, no less! I don’t know what kind of connections you have in the Mankind Monarchy, but this must have been hard to get. I’d like to get indignant now that it would have been nice to ask for my consent first, but this is way too useful to pass up.”

“Happy to help, my liege,” the older Wizard bowed slightly with a sarcastic grin, while still sitting at his desk. He handed the second paper.

“Huh. Looks like I’m the Earl of Mistfall now,” Egon said after glancing at it. “It’s a bit odd that an Earl would get only a small village; but it’s getting rather hard to find reasons not to help you. With these two pieces of parchment this mission just became a breeze. You have a deal.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The two men stood up and shook hands.

“You are doing me a huge favor. I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Elskan looked as if a great burden had been lifted from his soul.

“Please, let me solve your problem first, then accept your gratitude. Now the only issue we have left is convincing my Companion.”

***

A woman in a plain white hooded cape strolled through the streets of Magiopolis. She smiled constantly—it had been a long time since she could wander the roads of this city, which was magical in every way possible. It was noon and the streets were crowded, making it easy for her to blend in. She usually enjoyed the attention, but today she craved some peace and quiet.

There wasn’t much in terms of vegetation here, especially compared to elven cities, but what was here looked rather tasteful. It was late summer, but since the Sorcerer State was the southernmost country on the continent of Gynireka, the leaves were still mostly green.

She reached the rendezvous point—a famous tavern called “The Open Hand”. Here Companions gathered to tell stories about their adventures. She entered and sat quietly behind the bar. The place was slightly more than half full. The bard was singing a song about a faraway land. The bartender—a green-haired elf man in his forties—recognized her. He smiled and whispered:

“The usual?”

She nodded. He poured her a dark ale and signaled to the kitchen staff to prepare food. A young man, in full plate armor, except for his helmet, approached the woman in white from behind and asked:

“Sorry to bother you, but… F-Flavia? Is that you?”

The woman let out a long sigh. She turned around and lowered her hood, revealing her short orange hair, orange eyes, and long pointy ears. It is always hard to tell an elf’s age, but she seemed to be in her late twenties. Under the cape she wore a set of high-quality light studded armor, which was tailor fit to her petite, yet athletic physique. Her signature twin daggers hung on her belt. She faintly smiled at the armored man.

“In the flesh. But now I feel like I wasted money on this hooded cape. What gave me away?”

“Well,” the man shrugged, “everything. Your posture, the way you walk, your flowery cologne. You have this certain aura around you—”

“Flavia!” a man with a nasty scar across his face shouted across the tavern. “Why the devil are ya sitting there all alone? Come ‘ere, sit with us, will ya!”

“Would you look at this!” a young woman in a black dress objected to the scarred man. “Why would a noble like Miss Flavia sit with filthy and smelly men like you? She should join us ladies over here!”

“Flavia, oh fiery-locks Flavia!” the bard stopped his song and started mincing towards the elf woman. “Please hurry up and share with me some story from your wanderings, for I am completely out of ideas for songs—Who threw that tomato?!”

“Hey, I was here first!” yelled the tomato thrower, a muscular man. “I’m still waiting for a rematch with her after she beat me in an arm wrestling contest! Get in line, you pathetic excuse for a singer!”

Flavia leaned back against the bar, resting her elbows on the countertop and crossing her legs. The noise was getting louder and louder.

“Enjoying the view?” the bartender whispered in her ear.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss this. Sorry for causing all the fuss.”

“Don’t worry! Having you around is good for business. Oh, your food is ready, let me get it for you.”

“Thanks.” Flavia noticed a huge shadow blocking the light from the windows. A tall and muscular beastman towered over her. The verbal sparring quieted down as everyone’s eyes were fixed on what would happen between a delicate-looking elf woman and a brown bearman who utterly dwarfed her.

“Flavia,” he said in his low voice, “I… still don’t have enough money to pay my debt. But, I swear, I’m working on it—”

“Kodur,” the elf woman interrupted.

“Y-Yes?”

“Our deal still holds. Fix your crippling gambling addiction first, then worry about the debt. If you don’t quit playing cards, you know what I’ll do?”

“N-no…”

“I’ll strangle you with my own ‘bear’ hands.”

The pun was weak, but that didn’t stop anyone from bursting into laughter.

***

After going to the canteen and explaining to the guard that he won’t make it to the baby shower, Egon went into the city to meet with his Companion. It felt like the entire populace of the capital collectively decided to go outside by this hour.

To the outsider the society of Sorcerer State was idealistic: people of all walks of life got along and respected each other. Indeed, this is how it was supposed to be seen by the average “guest”—a colloquial term for those not affiliated with the State, but allowed to stay in its territory. But, if one is to find a particularly talkative citizen, then the pecking order will be made known shortly.

Egon spent the last fourteen years of his life here, so he could tell who’s who at a glance. He turned a corner onto a busy street and saw three people walking against the direction of the crowd. The crowd parted and let them pass, as if repelled by some force. But there was no force involved, magic or otherwise—the mage armor that those three wore was enough to earn recognition from those around them. Unmistakably, they were magic-users, who have sworn the Wizard’s Oath, pledging to keep the interests of the State as their number one priority. What this meant exactly varied greatly from one individual to another.

One thing that was hard to tell was which of the top two layers of society they occupied. They could be Wizards, Mages, Sorcerers—all interchangeable nomenclature for full-fledged magic-users. Or, they could be “mere” Apprentices—those who already sworn the Oath, but were not yet trusted to act on their own. Judging by the quality of their apparel, Egon concluded they should be the former.

The Circle Mage tried to escape the crowd by going into an alleyway. It was blocked by a group of half a dozen heavily armed people: greatswords, warhammers, bows—they had it all. Besides guards, only one caste was allowed to carry weapons openly—Companions. They were the next on the social ladder. What these people lacked in magical abilities and mana reserves, they made up for in every other field under the sun. They are the Wizard’s assistants, protectors, accountants, spies, and more. They are the right hand, left leg and all other appendages that help their magic-user achieve any goals.

The tallest among the group was a muscular human woman. When she saw the face under the magic-user’s hood, she excitedly yelled:

“Wizard Egon! Golly, you haven’t aged a day in five years! Hey, gits!” she addressed the people around her. “It’s the man I was telling you about! When the boss Wizard had to clear out wolves in the Monarchy near Ironwall and our party almost died—this man came to our rescue!”

“Good day,” the Circle Mage nodded. “I appreciate it, but it was nothing really—”

“Nothing? Ha! If not for you, we’d be wolf lunch! Well, what are you gits waiting for, make way for the humble sir to pass!” she shoved everyone to the walls, making just enough room for Egon to squeeze past them.

One unspoken truth was clear above all: life in this nation would’ve ground to a halt if it wasn’t for the regular citizens. These average Janes and Joes work tirelessly to keep the cogs of this magical machine turning. The farmers, the bakers, the blacksmiths, the guards, the clerks, the administrators—they were at the bottom of the totem pole. The State did at least try to treat them fairly, even if not everyone “above” them demonstrated the due respect.

Egon rapidly passed by a cafe, when one of its patrons got up and sprinted after him.

“Excuse me!” the patron addressed the Circle Mage, who stopped and turned around.

In front of him stood a blonde human man with green eyes. He was slightly younger, around his mid twenties. He was wearing beige mage armor, which looked brand new.

“Sorcerer Scion Begabt!” Egon bowed slightly. “To what do I owe your attention?”

“Please, you don’t have to use that title, we’ve known each other long enough. How have you been lately?”

The older magic-user looked surprised for a moment, but then smiled. He replied:

“Splendid, honestly. What about you? Haven’t talked to you in Magiopolis for what feels like a long stretch of time. Did you come here to update your wardrobe?”

“No, I was just… uhm… visiting my parents, yes!”

“Ah, right. Of course. Forgive my ignorance, but weren’t you with the Discoverers? I bet this year you’re already the one who brought the most unregistered magic-users here, mmm?”

“Sadly, no. This year has been extremely unfruitful for me. But I was hoping you could change that.”

“Oh my, it seems you have extremely high expectations for me.”

“I know, but that shouldn’t be a challenge for someone with your reputation. I’m certain of it. This is about where you work.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, but I need to get to my Companion rather quickly. Shall we walk together and discuss the matter at hand?”

***

After Flavia managed to say hello to everyone who wanted her attention, she could finally enjoy her food and drink. She was almost done, when on the far side of the tavern a human woman, who was previously quiet, rose to her feet. She had blonde hair and was wearing basic leather armor.

“You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?” the woman blurted in a slightly slurred voice.

The tavern went silent for a split second, then buzzed with whispers. Flavia looked up from her bowl and met the woman’s gaze. The orange-haired elf narrowed her eyes and smirked, saying:

“Matla. Glad to see you too. That’s a thought-provoking question! I don’t think I’m better. I’m just… different. And that’s what makes me fun to be around with.”

“You make me sick,” the blonde continued, despite her table mates trying to hold her back. “Some say you’re the benchmark for all adventurers. I say it’s hogwash!”

Flavia whistled in a flirty manner and replied:

“That envy looks hella sexy on you, girl.”

“You think you’re so special, being your Wizard’s only Companion, huh?” the blonde walked towards the elf. “Wow, just two people, achieving so much! I bet when things get tough, you’ll ditch him and run away like the coward that you actually are!”

Flavia’s sarcastic smile faded. She got off her chair and said slowly:

“I take my duty as a Companion extremely seriously,” her voice was icy, as she walked away from the bar and towards Matla. “When I signed the Contract, I vividly saw the ‘protect your magic-user with your life’ clause. My bloody fingerprint on that paper means so much to me, that I hardly believe it will be able to fit in that narrow forehead of yours!”

At that point, both women were standing in the middle of the tavern, with their faces a finger’s width apart. The rage in their eyes suggested violence was imminent. The tavern door swung open. Two male figures stood in the doorway.

“Stop this at once!” a man in beige mage armor called out.

“Master Begabt!” Matla turned away from Flavia and ran towards him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice, that—”

“Apologize,” the blonde man’s voice was stern. “Right now. To both Mage Egon and his Companion!”

“It’s Flavia. The ‘Companion’s’ name is Flavia,” the other male figure corrected.

The blonde woman’s face and ears reddened more than before.

“I… I’m… But she’s the one who… I’m really sorry, alright?” she forced out every word.

“Apology accepted,” Egon said loudly. He then added more quietly, “Mr. Begabt Grimoire, this is hardly the first time something like this has happened. Your inability to keep your Retinue in check will make it nearly impossible to endorse your candidacy for the Circle.”

“I completely understand, Wizard Egon. I promise this won’t happen with my Companion ever again—”

Egon didn’t wait for the other magic-user to finish his speech and walked over to Flavia. The crowd around them resumed their loud conversations, pretending nothing had happened. They all respected the Circle Mage and his Companion and didn’t want to make them feel awkward. The elf woman was looking down at the floor, slowly regaining her composure.

“Are you okay?” he asked, placing his hands on her neck and caressing her flushed cheeks with his thumbs.

“That filthy blonde did a fabulous job of learning how to get under my skin. Now I feel like a fool for making me lose my cool. Last thing I want is for my temper to be a problem for your reputation. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But I hate seeing you so upset by Matla’s babbling. You know I trust you more than anyone. But just in case you want to make it up to me, I have an idea.”

“Alright, alright, you win,” she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I’ll make you that dessert you love so much. But why does your favorite confection have to be the one that takes three days of hard work to make?”

“Cause it’s you that’s making it, duh! But, to be frank, I was thinking more among the lines of you accompanying me on an unforgettable adventure, into the depths of the Mankind Kingdom—”

“We’re kissing our vacation goodbye?” Flavia smiled at Egon.

“I’m as disappointed as you are! But wait till you hear what we’re getting in exchange!” he grinned back at her.

3

Somewhere in the Mankind Monarchy…

A luxurious carriage glided smoothly along the country road with two passengers inside.

“I’m beginning to understand why this mode of transportation is so expensive,” Egon wondered out loud. “I might just get used to it. Bet this is nothing special for you.”

“Ha!” Flavia scoffed. “We only used them once or twice per year, when the Empress threw a ball. And the last time I rode in one I was, what, six or seven? You’ll seldom see ‘rich’ and ‘elven noble’ in the same sentence. But with your new title we have to look the part, don’t we?”

The elf hopped onto the seat next to him and straightened his tie. Egon was wearing dark gray noble attire, which complemented his eyes handsomely. She went on:

“I need to start getting used to calling you by your title. Earl… Numis. The notorious cake lover Earl Numis. The definitely-not-a-magic-user Earl Numis!”

“Wow, shall I start calling you Miss Everwind too?”

She pulled a face and stuck out her tongue.

“Heh,” Egon smiled. “I must admit, this classical maid outfit that we bought yesterday looks marvelous on you. Love how the black and white fabric contrasts with your fiery hair.”

“Yes, I noticed how you eyed me when we were picking one out.”

“…After which you sneakily dragged me into the dressing room.”

“And I’m still thoroughly disappointed that you escaped from it immediately!”

They both giggled. Flavia lifted her finger, as if she recalled something, and said:

“Look at this,” she proceeded to lift her ankle-length skirt up until her knee and then some more. A sheath with a dagger inside came into view, which was attached to her thigh.

“Isn’t that a bit too tight,” Egon tried to put his finger between the elf’s leg and the strap that held the sheath.

Flavia let out a moan and said in a mockingly embarrassed tone:

“Milord is so insatiable! The poor maid can’t keep up with his appetites!”

She placed her palm on his chest and lowered her head, gazing at him from beneath.

“Na-na-na, so insatiable,” he echoed in a teasing tone and made a wry face. He pulled the hem of her skirt back down to the floor.

The elf giggled, rested her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. He wrapped his arm around her, and looked outside at the stunning autumn colors.