Red sky at night; shepherds delight,

Red sky in the morning; shepherds warning 

- Old Proverb

14th of Taka, 1000

Fort Kitapüru, foot of the Yochi Mountains, west most oasis in the Õkina Kansõ desert 

“Captain Devereux, the new castors have arrived.” A young, green guard had braved the captain’s early morning solitude.

Sitting on the parapet, looking towards the south, he sighed at the interruption. “Thanks Mickie. I’ll be down in a minute.” The captain did not take his eyes of the horizon. It was going to be a hot day he thought. “Castors you say. Not Mages?”

“Not that I could tell captain. My inspection skill is not like scouts sir, but even I can tell, only one of them has a AGP over two.” Mické replied. He hated his name, or at least its pronunciation. His mum had named him after someone from her home town a place of thick accents and peculiar tastes. He actually didn’t mind the captains effort, it was better than others.

The captain grunted. “Thanks Mickie. You can go now.” He stared out over the desert towards the Fujika fort. Castors. What was he supposed to do with castors? In fairness some of the best medicine came from hedge witches. If he was being gender sensitive he should also say warlocks but nobody could police the mind. 

In his youth he had asked his pa what the difference was between a castor and a mage. Naturally the answer was filled with the superstitions of the illiterate. His father hadn’t been an educated man but he had been a hard worker. He had provided well for his poor family and so the captain and his brother had been able to move up in the world. He must be getting sentimental in his old age thinking about pa at a time like this.

Castors. Innate magic affinity. Mages grade one in something. Military Mages, the only kind he was really interested, accumulated grade points, ay ge pe in the military vernacular, of two or more. Like many before him he wandered why ‘Inspect’ handed out zero grades as distinct from no grade. And why for that matter some ‘zero’ grades were worth more than others.  

Still, he reflected, climbing down form the battlement, they wouldn’t be here for nothing. Perhaps they could help his only major magical weapons Max and Silvia. His only offensive mage, Max was a young fire mage. Nothing too special, the requisite single grade in his fire element. Zero grades in air element and solar source. A bare minimum two AGP but good for a decent size fireball once a day..

Silvia was an earth mage also only just scraping the two AGP. Her minors were also air and source. What did he expect out here in the Ōkina Kansō desert. Kitapüru was a small fort originally built by Fujiama to guard the trade route from Machikei to the villages in the Ryu forest. 

He'd never understood why it was a trade route. The Shinano river ran through more pleasant grasslands south of the desert. Surely it was only a quick few days overland between it’s headwaters and the Ishikaki river which flowed through the Ryu forest. Perhaps the terrane was harder than he thought. In anywise there were a number of desert oases that allowed one to traverse the desert. Perhaps that was it.

Whatever the reason, after Miylan gained independence, Kitapüru became a boarder fort. Not that anything interesting ever happened. The frequent conflict between the kingdom of Miylan and the Empire of Fujiama had never ventured here, even during the last full war. The fujian army had rolled up, built another fort, Minapüru, at the next oasis to the south. So the two forts had watched each other for the last fifty years. Nobody stopped the trade, in fact both sides did nicely out of the taxes. 

Perhaps that was changing. Boarder skirmishes abounded on the far side of the Ryu forest. Nothing too surprising there. But recently they’d turned very nasty. Reports coming back down the trade route indicated that casualties were escalating. Wanderers traveled back and forward between the two countries in hopes of preventing another costly border war. Hopes the captain thought were vein.

“They sent castors.” He mumbled out loud. In the eternal game of cat and mouse countries played with each other it was a curious move. On the one hand sending magical reinforcements was a significant escalation of things. It signalled Miylan’s intent to halt the gradual erosion of its boarders by Fujiama. On the other hand, nobody regarded low AGP castors as anything serious no matter what uniform they wore. 

What could low AGP castors do? Nothing. They imbued elixirs, poultices and other consumables. Apart from that they needed to be artificers to imbue anything permanent. Artificers, a whole different ball of wax. Nobody in their right mind sent an artificer to the front. Those people were worth their weight in gold, literally. The Emperor of Fujiama once hired an artificer from Osaka for two years and paid enough gold to cover Miylan’s national tax. 

Any further thoughts were cut off by his subordinates as he entered the station. Casually acknowledging their salutes he continued into his office. 

His valet, Mark, started speaking as he entered. “Dispatches from head office have come in. Looks like HQ's resumed sending our dispatches over the Yochi mountains. The latest came with nine castors. If I understand their conversation, five are expected to remain here and the others push on through to Shinori.”

“Thanks Mark.” Devereux was quiet in the mornings. He preferred a quiet and peaceful start to the day. Something the effervescent Mark never understood. He seemed incapable of maintaining silence. A personality trait that grated the captain. Not that he could chastise the man. Perhaps they taught inane chatter at whatever finishing school the military procured its valets from, he speculated again.

Sure enough Mark spoke, missing the hinted dismissal. “I see the mercury glass forecasts a dry day ahead. Perhaps today will be as hot as yesterday.” 

Trying to maintain his peace, the captain grunted a noncommittal response.

“Still today should be busy. Those recruits who arrived two days ago are still green. Have you decided on their allocations and training?”

Mark’s question hung in the air for a moment. The captain refusing to respond. In his mind he thought the person most in need of training was his valet. It wasn’t the job of valet to read his correspondence nor comment on force training and deployment.

“Oh, there is a lieutenant Fitzhugh waiting outside. He came in with the dispatches. He would like a moment of your time, sir.” Mark looked expectantly at the now seated captain.

“Very well, Mark. Please show him in.” A certain amount of exasperation crept into the captain’s tone.

“Very good,” the valet commented as he left the room to summon the lieutenant. 

Devereux decided that he was going to have to sit the young valet down and discuss a few facts of decorum. It would be one of those delightful conversations, he could see it coming. One where everyone left feeling they had snacked on a particularly sour lemon.

“Sir, this is lieutenant William Fitzhugh.” 

Mark had retuned with a blond haired undersized youth decked out in the most fashionably tailored uniform Devereux had seen in many years. Great, he thought, the dandified son of some upper-class toff was coming to play military dress-ups in his fort. “Thank you Mark. Lieutenant you can be seated.”

There was a pregnant pause. Before the captain looked pointedly at Mark and repeated, “Thank you Mark.”

“No problem sir.” Mark replied affably. 

There was another pause. Before the captain sighed. “You’re dismissed Mark.”

“Oh right.” The valet turned and with exaggerated slowness left the room.

The captain was about to speak when the lieutenant held up his hand. “A moment sir.” He pulled a curious looking engraved hexagon shaped stone disk out of his pocket placing it delicately on the captains desk. He pulled a small wineskin out of a different pocket. Unstoppering it, he carefully measuring a single drop of a curiously luminescent liquid onto the disk before putting the wineskin away. Carefully touching the disk with a single finger he spoke. “Quildë argad nómë.”

There was a moment of strange over pressure. The captains ears popped. A feeling of stillness settled into the room. After a moment’s hesitation Devereux spoke. “Was that sendian?”

“Yes sir.” There was a brief pause. “Thank you for encouraging your valet to leave. I wasn’t sure how to remove him with my limited authority in the military." He paused indicating the faintly glowing disk. “This curious little device, obtained at great expense from V’nasenda, only responds to sendian commands.”

“Why do you care what my valet knows.” The captain was genuinely curious.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

William smiled. “I don’t. Your superiors, however, care a great deal.”

The captain raised a single eyebrow. “Really? Why do you say ‘your superiors’ as if you’re not reporting to them yourself?”

The smile grew. “My attire and its associated rank confer some benefits. I, however, am not within the military’s chain of command. I can provide some bone-fides when required however the disk’s effect will wear off momentarily and we have a couple of issues to discuss before hand.” 

“Really?”  Devereux’s tone conveyed a definite sense of disapproval.

Not that the youthful lieutenant was perturbed. “Yes. Sir Jordan was explicit.”

Surprise coloured the captains response. “Oh. And what did his majesty’s chief Mage have to say?” It was time to find out a little more about the man before him. He triggered his inspect skill making sure he utilised the full version not the more condensed version he reserved for other occasions. 

There was the usual listing of physical attributes, name, Willian Fitzhugh and gender stuff. The only point of interest being his house affiliation, which was his last name, confirming his belief that Fitzhugh was a noble son. His reputation with various nations confirmed his loyalty to Miylan. The institutions were much more interesting. He was intimately tied to the national spy agency and passionately connected to the national castors guild. Which prompted a question before the lieutenant responded to the previous question. “Sir Jordan, or lady Juliet?”

“Ah, neither sir if the truth be told.” A raised eyebrow seemed to suggest that Fitzhugh new he was being inspected. “My orders were directly from his Majesty. Not that I am allowed to say so to any.” There was a slight pause. “Other than yourself off course.”

The captain grunted. “And what did Harry have to say?”

Fitzhugh took a breath. “Well I’ve been sent here because Lady Juliet believes that the hammer will fall here. Not the other side of the Ryu forest as the royal courtiers believe. Fujiama’s after the Yochi mountains she says. She believes the latest aggression is due to Fujiama’s zinc shortage. Previously they procured zinc from their mines in the Spine. Increasingly the movement of orc and goblin populations though the Spine has forced many of their more productive mines closed. We think Fujiama’s pre-independence records show significant zinc deposits in the lower western Yochi mountains.”

“Makes a certain amount of sense I suppose. It they are after zinc that is.” The captain steepled his fingers under his chin. An affectation he’d picked up from his mentor many years before. He continued. “Why do they care about zinc?”

The younger man paused for a moment. “Officially, zinc is quite useful in the production munitions.”

The captain zeroed in on the first word. “And unofficially?”

The young man pulled out his little potion skin allowing another drop to land on the disk before them. The glow brightened. As he re-stoppered the receptacle and returned it to his pocket, he commented.“This stuff comes from V’nasenda. It is one of the best reagents known to HMCC. We use it in about seven of every ten casts. Sometimes a drop will suffice…” He gestured towards the hexagon disk. “…and on other occasions we need buckets of the stuff. It has some fancy ‘sendian name but we just call it ‘reagent’.”

He glanced again at the disk before continuing in a lower tone of voice. “We, like all nations, pay V’nasenda, in gold, platinum, tin, zinc, copper and wheat. We suspect they use some of those in making reagent.” He dropped his voice even further. “The rumour is that Fujiama tried to short pay V’nasenda. V’nasenda responded by suspending trade. Fujiama now makes a much less efficient alternative. It requires lots of zinc. Much more than trade with V’nasenda would seem to indicate is required for reagent”

The captain rocked back in his chair another affectation. “So no zinc means no magic for Fujiama. Hence, they’re coming for ours.”

The young man grimaced. “So believes Lady Juliet, her opposition point out that Fujiama has put it’s disagreement with the Confederation behind it. They have a significant oversupply of zinc. So the opposition claim that Lady Juliet is off with the piskies. If you’ll pardon the colloquialism.”

“I’m in the military son. Racially offensive colloquialisms were insignificant side events in the foul mouthed tirades rained on my head by my drill instructor. I’ll hear worse again I’m sure.” The captain allowed the chair to drop back to all four legs as he changed tack. “There’s a reason Juliet is the head of his majesties spy network. Boris is smoking the stoner weed again if he’s betting against her.” He sighed. “The only person likely to have a better idea about the Fujian military movement is General Wallace. He’s predicted their movements pretty accurately for the last twenty years. What’s his opinion on Juliet’s position.”

The young man nodded as he spoke. “His majesty said you would like to know the general’s opinion.”

The Captain smiled. “Harry always understood I took Bill’s advice over my own.”

“Bill?” Fitzhugh asked.

“General Wallace to you, lieutenant.” Devereux replied curtly

“Right. Anyway, the general says you need to prepare defence against forces coming in from your south west up the road from Minapüru but that will be a feint. The main offence will come from the direction of Shinori. West, north west sir.” The young man explained. 

“Son, I’ve been stationed here for three years. I know the way to everywhere from here not just Shinori. So perhaps you can continue with the Generals thoughts not your own.” The captain remarked.

 “Ahh. Yes. Right.” Fitzhugh was surprised at himself. He didn’t normally get flustered by rank and station. But the fatherly way he was being corrected reminded him of standing in front of his own father. It was a little unnerving truth be told. 

 “I’ll continue sir. The general isn’t sure if they will take that fort first or just wheel thought the deep desert out of Minapüru. He rates the odds as five in seven we will be attacked within two weeks and one seven we will survive without reinforcements.”

“Ouch.” The captain winced. “So how soon are reinforcements arriving.”

The lieutenant tensed. “They’ve already arrived. Unfortunately the general also believes that Fujiama is going to push significant force through the Ryu forest hoping to sweep the entire central lower portion of Miylan in a significant land grab.”

“Really. How significant?” Captain Devereux asked.

“The general believes they are aiming for everything between he Yochi river and the Ryu forest. So about a quarter of Miylan by landmass, less by other measures.” Fitzhugh replied.

The captain’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “That’s not 'significant’, that’s ‘ruinous’. Its enough to break Miylan. Sarness and M’hym will use it as a reason to commence their own land grabs. The nation could get rolled up.”

“Which is why you get me and the main army is off to the Ryu forest.” Fitzhugh responded.

“Did Harry tell us how many we are expecting?” The captain asked.

Fitzhugh took a breath. “No. But General Wallace said, and I quote, conservatively eight to twelve regiments.”

“What?” The captain exploded. 

“Is that many?” Fitzhugh asked. Lady Juliet’s previous reaction indicated it wasn’t good but the numbers meant nothing to him. “The general said we only need to hold out for six weeks. After that we will have truly lost or reinforcements will arrive.”

“Many he asks.” The captain grumbled to himself. “Eight regiments is almost six and a half thousand men. I have nearly two thousand men. Twelve regiments is almost ten thousand men. Five to one odds and they sent me five castors as reinforcements. Harry’s been at the wacky weed again. I knew mum should have spanked him proper.”

“Ahh sir, it’s not as bad as you think.” Fitzhugh tried sounding placating. Then his mind turned in a different direction. “Your mum knew the king?”

“Yes. She cleaned his rooms.” The captain waved away the question before posing a snarky question of his own. "And why isn’t it bad?”

“Well the real reason for this disk is actually what comes next. HMCC has developed a new spell.” Fitzhugh was jubilant at the prospect of trying it out which reflected in his upbeat tone of voice.

The captain didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t quite hide his skepticism. “Must be an impressive spell.”

“Yes sir. The short version is that it allows us to form a cast coven.” Fitzhugh paused waiting for a reaction.

Devereux didn’t infer anything useful from this, dryly commenting. “Forgive my complete amazement but perhaps there are a few useful details you can add.”

“Right. A coven is significant as it allows common castors such as myself to form a shared nguvu pool. From this pool the leader of the coven can cast any spell that there is affinity within the coven for. Even spells requiring multiple affinities not met by individual castors. Furthermore because the nguvu pool is in common, castor regen de-buffs are negated.”

“That’s interesting.” The captain paused. “Max and Silvia can only cast once a day. But if your five castors join with them they can cast, what, every seven hours or there about. So three and a half fireballs a day, roughly? Same for say earth walls from Silvia”

The young castor grinned. “It’s better than that. The common pool applies to spells also. So increased ‘recoup’ with reduced ‘rate’ means seven fireballs in the first five minutes of battle and another every two hours after that. Conceivably, nineteen fireballs or nineteen walls, or some combination of the two, on day one.”

A hint of smile appeared on the captains face. “Now that is good news.”

Fitzhugh wasn’t done though. “Better still, make the first two casts as the enemy expects. Everyone’s recoup kicks in and in four hours the pool is full and you can drop seven completely unexpected casts. Or…”

The captain held up a finger halting the young man. He pointed at the disk. The luminescence was starting to fade.

The young castor. Looked sharply at the disk. He deflated as he realised he could expand the many possibilities his team had dreamt up over the last few months since they had formed the cast for the first time. “I can’t afford too waste too much more of the reagent. We don’t have a lot and we will need most of it for the Coven Cast itself.”

The captain nodded. “Then lets leave it there. I will have a good think about the best way to deploy your team when the need arises. Can we do this again if I need a further chat to clarify details.”

The young man paused for thought. “No. Not like this. We don’t have the reagent. Once the coven is cast the disk can be powered without the reagent. However there are some details about the coven cast you need to understand.”

He paused before continuing. “Firstly it is a long cast, taking about eight hours, so we cannot wait until we see the enemy to make the cast. On the flip side we cannot cast it today and not use it for three weeks. All things have a penalty, the coven exacts it’s price from the mental resilience of the coven members. Too long in the coven and the water madness comes early.”

“That’s a problem,” the captain acknowledged. The history of those poor unfortunate souls who went mad because of nothing other than an innate affinity for water magic was  well known to the captain.

“Quite.” The disk started blinking. “Time is almost up. One last unrelated matter. The general says it would be unrealistic for there not to be at least two well placed spies in your fort. Hence the use of the disk. I was asked to bring this to your attention and to remind you that your actions should always reflect a belief that your enemy is watching your every move.”

Fitzhugh took a breath to go on but stoped as the light on the disk blinked out. 

Instead the captain spoke with a surprisingly gruff tone of voice. “Thank you lieutenant. I still maintain that five no gift castors does not reflect suitable reinforcements and I will be certain to address the oversight with Lord Jordan in my next communique. I guess you had better get acquainted with your betters in the Mage quarters. Senior Mage Silvia is in charge there. Oh and stay out of my way until you return to wherever sir Jordan found you. Dismissed.”

The young castor turned a little red in the face at the abrupt change in conversational tone. In haste he stood and pulled open the door. Surprising both the captain’s valet and a few junior officers gathered at the nearby hessian water cooler. Seeing this the light dawned. Perhaps the captain was better at the cloak and dagger stuff than he previously thought.