The rest of the journey to Calador was relatively uneventful; a cycle of almost two weeks of walking along the main road, stopping for the night at a roadside inn or a village hovel. The smallfolk were all too happy to provide room and board for a Paladin, and they rarely had to pay for a bed or a meal. As their journey stretched on, Clara found herself incredibly thankful that she had somehow convinced Gideon that she had good intentions. If she had been alone on the road to Calador, she would have probably been foraging for food and sleeping outside by now. Or maybe she’d still be a few towns away, doing odd jobs to fund her travels; or maybe she’d have been dead and forgotten in the wilderness between settlements. Or, perhaps a less understanding - or would it be less naive? - servant of the Church would have found her and brought her to justice.
These thoughts were still occupying Clara’s head when Calador finally came into sight, but they were momentarily swept away by the grandeur of the capital. She had never seen the city before, but she had heard many rumours about it.
The rumours didn’t do it justice.
Even though they were still at least a day’s journey away, it was unmistakable. It towered in the distance, a gleaming edifice of pure white stone that was more akin to a fortress than a city. Sturdy, even walls ringed it in a smooth circle, broken only by a handful of gates to allow passage inside. The entirety of Almerra could probably fit inside those walls several times over, Clara estimated.
It was said that the city had been constructed by angels long ago, when they still walked in the realm of men. Clara had never put much stock in tales of the Church’s holy patrons, but gazing upon the city, she could almost believe the stories. She didn’t consider mere humans capable of creating something so immaculate. But even for all its splendour, she could make out a sprawl of buildings of more traditional construction that extended away from the walls, probably built as the population of the city grew too large to be contained within the inner walls. Fields dotted the land surrounding the city as well; it was as though someone had fit all of the villages and towns of a small kingdom into one area, all to support the city that they encircled. Clara couldn’t blame them: Calador was a magnificent sight.
They spent their last night outside of Calador’s walls in one of the inns in the outlying district, and set out for the final stretch of their journey well-fed and well-rested. It was slow going despite the large and well-maintained street that cut through the district towards the walls, mostly due to the sheer amount of traffic crowding the road. Clara had never seen so many people in a single place at once, even on Almerra’s busiest festival days. Though they had left the inn fairly early in the morning, it was approaching evening by the time the city’s gates were within sight.
“Do you think you’ll be fine on your own once we’re inside the city?” Gideon asked as they neared the gates. The sudden question surprised Clara; they hadn’t spoken much since the encounter with the ghost, focused on their travels as they were. She had almost preferred it that way, not having to constantly dissemble and keep her reasons for venturing to the city from the Paladin.
“I should be. I have a contact within Calador, someone who used to sell me magical texts. They should be able to help me get settled,” she replied. It wasn’t technically a lie.
“That’s good. If you find yourself needing help with anything, feel free to seek me out at my order’s headquarters. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be staying in the city, but it should be at least a week. ”
Clara nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever take the Paladin up on his offer. Even if she wanted to risk visiting the heart of the Paladin’s order, she didn’t want to keep relying on him, especially after how she had deceived - was still deceiving - him. Better be done associating with him once she was safely inside Calador.
Passing through the gates was a simple matter with a Paladin at her side - all he had to do was display his holy symbol and the guards let them through without question. The city past the walls was just as impressive as it appeared from outside. The streets were immaculately cobbled with the same white stone that made up the walls, and the same was true for most of the buildings. Some few were newer constructions of timber or brick, though of far higher quality than the ones outside the walls. There were less people crowding the streets, and from what Clara could see the majority were clean and well-dressed.
“I suppose this is where we part ways,” Gideon said. “Good luck, Clara. Angels guide you.”
“Thank you for accompanying me this far, Gideon. May they guide you as well,” she replied. The Paladin set off down the street and was soon out of her sight.
With the Paladin gone, Clara realized that she had no way to inform Holden that she had reached Calador, and she had no idea where in the city the warlock and his followers were hiding. Only a few moments after Gideon had left, however, she heard a voice near her ear. “My master will be delighted to learn of your arrival.”
Clara’s turned her head to scan the street as she sought the owner of the voice, but she couldn’t spot any likely culprits. “Calm yourself. I am hidden from your sight, and theirs,” the voice continued, and Clara finally recognized it as that of Holden’s imp.
“How did you know I had reached the city?” she asked in a low voice, glancing around to make sure none of the passersby were listening in.
“I have been monitoring the gates for the past few days. A boring task, but a necessary one. Now that you are here, I am to guide you to my master’s current abode. Keep along the road in front of you,” the unseen familiar instructed, and she felt it settle on her shoulder.
Clara followed the imp’s directions, which took her on a winding path deep into the unfamiliar streets of the city. After what felt like hours of walking, she found herself in a district of the city that seemed to be mostly residential, populated by a mix of closely built townhouses and more elaborate manors with - at least for being in the middle of a city - sizeable grounds. It was as though a slice of the countryside had simply been transplanted into the city, and by Clara’s estimate this district alone covered more ground than the entirety of Almerra.
The imp guided her to the gates of one of those manors, and its invisible weight left her shoulder. A few seconds later, the gate swung open to allow her inside, closing behind her after she had stepped through the threshold. “My master awaits within,” the imp said as its invisibility melted away to show it motioning to the manor’s front door.
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Clara pushed through the front door into an interior that was not at all dissimilar to her family’s home. The layout of the entry hall was much the same, at least, though where her family had long since sold most of their furnishings, Holden’s manor was decorated with rich rugs and fine paintings and quality vases. The floors and walls were spotless, and Clara caught sight of a few servants shuffling around to their tasks with heads down, doing their best to stay out of the way. A well-dressed man was sitting on a chair with a line of sight to the door, reading a book. He looked up at Clara’s entrance and she gave him a nod of greeting, though he all but ignored her; his eyes found Holden’s imp and, apparently satisfied that it was guiding her, went back to his reading.
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The imp winged up a stairway and Clara stayed close, following it down a small hallway where it perched on a doorknob. The demon had to wrap its arms around to open it, and for a second Clara contemplated stepping in to help, but after a few seconds of struggling the door swung open to reveal a regal study.
Holden sat at a desk of polished mahogany, writing, and looked up when Clara entered the room. “Ah, you’ve finally made it. You acquired the reagent, I hope?”
Clara suppressed a scowl at the abruptness of Holden’s greeting and produced the vial of ectoplasm, stepping across the study to hand it to the warlock.
“Very good,” Holden said, rising from his chair to take the vial. “Welcome to our home, for the time being,” he continued with a slight nod. “Now that you are here, your training can begin in earnest. We have had one of the rooms prepared in anticipation of your arrival, if you would follow me.”
Clara followed Holden back out into the hall, where he guided her at a leisurely pace down another wing of the second floor. “The manor belongs to one Count Haford,” he explained as he walked, “an old friend of mine. He is out surveying his lands, so for the foreseeable future we effectively have free reign of the house.” Clara recognized the name, vaguely, but she couldn’t recall anything of note about the count. It did raise the question of who exactly this Holden was to have friends among the nobility, as well as remind her that she knew almost nothing of the warlock beyond his craft, not even whether Holden was his fore or surname.
Despite the lavish decor, the manor was not particularly large, sequestered in the city as it was. A few moments later Holden opened another door, motioning inside. “Here it is: your room, for as long as you stay here.” Clara stepped into a bedroom that was just a touch smaller than her own back home, sparsely furnished with little more than a bed and writing desk, though those looked to be of high quality. “The hour draws late, so I will leave you to your rest. I will have one of the servants collect you for your first lessons in the morning,” Holden said before closing the door, leaving Clara alone in her new abode.
She rested her staff against the wall beside the door and walked over to the desk, placing her pack atop it. Her imp crawled out of the bag, chittering, and fluttered around the room like a pet exploring a new home. As Clara slowly turned around the room, properly taking it in, she allowed herself a small smile. She had finally made it. No more running, no more long days on the road, no more dealing with the Paladin. Her own room, a mentor, fellow students, and the uninterrupted study of magic. She did not let the fact that it was not the magic she had sought, or that she was still outcast, take away from the joy that simmered within her. It was almost all she had once dreamed of, and the rest of those dreams were not far from her grasp.
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Clara woke the next morning feeling refreshed from a night in a good bed with no worries eating at her. That was compounded when some of the house’s staff arrived at her room to inform her that they had drawn a bath and washed her clothing - a luxury she had not had in a long while. She very nearly hummed to herself while she prepared for the day. Her good spirits seemed to affect her imp, as well, as the creature was bobbing its head back and forth when it alighted on her shoulder after she threw on her freshly-washed dress.
Shortly after she finished dressing, another servant arrived to lead her to Holden and her first day under his tutelage. She was guided all the way down to the manor’s basement, where one of the cellar rooms had been left bare but for a small table in the corner. Scorch marks marred the stone of the far wall.
Holden looked up from the table as Clara entered the room, and rose to greet her. “I trust that you are well-rested, and prepared for today’s lessons?” At a nod from Clara, he continued. “Very good. For our first matter, I believe we should test how far you have come on your own. As you might have gleaned,” he said, motioning to the wall, “we use this room for the practical testing of our art. If you could simply throw a few spells at the wall, so that I may judge your progress?”
Clara turned to the wall as Holden retook his seat, preparing to conjure a fireball. The magic stirred within her at the thought, though it seemed… more placid, today. Like a smoldering ember, rather than the raging inferno it had been far too often in the past month. She pointed at the wall, and flames blossomed forth to scour the wall as she spoke the incantation.
Holden remained silent at the display fireball, and Clara wasn’t sure how effective an example her curses would be when used on an inanimate wall, so she recalled the words for the chains she had used used on the Paladin. They came forth far easier than the last time she had used them, and though they couldn’t ensnare the wall as they were meant to do, they nonetheless battered their searing links against the stone.
“Remarkable, for one so new to the craft,” Holden said once the chains had dispersed. “But I suppose that’s to be expected, considering your diligent pursuit of the arcane - as little luck as you had with in that field, it prepared you well for the first steps in our discipline.”
Clara’s good mood faltered, and her eyes narrowed as she stared across the room at Holden. “How did you know about my prior studies?”
“It was not a difficult tale to hear in Almerra - the noble girl who’d been trying for years to get her hands on any arcane knowledge she could find. We just did our research before approaching you. To make sure you would be a suitable addition to our assembly, I’m sure you understand.”
With how infernalists were treated in the kingdom, Clara had to admit that it made sense, and she warily nodded. “What next, then?”
“Eager to learn more, I see. Good. There is one flaw in your technique that we need to correct, though it’s no fault of your own: this is beyond what’s written in that tome I entrusted you, but you’ve far outstripped its teachings by now. You focus too much on the incantations.”
“How is that a flaw? I thought the incantations were what shaped the spell.”
“Only to the most fresh initiates. Due to, how do I put this… ancient bindings, of a sort, it is necessary to use a ritual to establish a link between the soul of a mortal and the energies of the Hells. After that ritual is complete, it is only a tiny fragment of the power of Hell that dwells within the soul - a touch difficult to harness for an apprentice, hence the need for incantations. The more you use it, however, the stronger it will grow. And here’s the important part: demons, and by association their magic, are raw chaos. It does not like to be constrained by incantations or formulae. It is far better shaped by imagination and fueled by strong emotions - it feeds and is fed by feelings such as anger or fear.”
Ah. That explained why she had felt so quick to anger in the past few weeks, and why the magic seemed to come to her unbidden in response. “So I just… imagine a spell, and it happens?”
“It will be easier for you to try it yourself than for me to continue explaining it.” Holden stood from his seat and stepped into the middle of the chamber, turning towards Clara as he gestured to himself. “Try to strike me with a bolt of fire. Ignore the incantations that you have learned. Think of some memory that elicits emotion, imagine that emotion as kindling for a fire, and shape the spell in your mind. Worry not about harming me; I can defend myself.”
Clara eyed him skeptically for a moment. Did Holden really think so little of her abilities that he thought her incapable of harming him? That provided the anger she needed as fuel, at least. She imagined it kindling a fire, extending a hand towards Holden as she shaped that fire into a weapon in her mind. The flames gathered in her hand, then leapt towards Holden in a loosely controlled burst.
Tendrils of shadowy energy flowed from the warlock, coalescing into a barrier in front of him that the hellfire splashed against harmlessly. “Very good. A bit lacking in control, perhaps, but that will come with more practice. Now, it will be slow going, at first. You will find yourself less effective than your previous methods. But if you are diligent and apply yourself, you will soon be able to accomplish far greater things than when you were shackled to incantations.
“For the next few days, I will leave you to exercise this on your own. This chamber will remain open for whenever you wish to use it. When I feel that you have sufficiently progressed, we will speak again.”