Ted strode into Valbort’s war council room, and wrinkled his nose. The splattered flesh was gone, but the stench was not.

Luther, Ardic, and several unhelmed officers stood hunched over the map. Orlanda stood apart from them, staring off at a wall. She startled upright, glanced at him, cleared her throat, and turned away.

The others straightened up and stared at him as he approached. At least Luther had the decency to acknowledge him with a nod.

“Ted,” Ardic said, pushing the words out like it was torture. “Thank you for your aid.”

Diplomacy prodded at Ted’s mind, and he indulged it with a forced smile. “Happy to help an ally.”

Luther looked between Ted and Ardic, glaring a warning at both. “Strange times make for strange allies. I was just congratulating Ardic on the success of his plan to enlist the aid of the Order of the Battlemage.”

Heat flared in Ted’s chest. The two-faced bastard! “That—” Ted bit his lip, wishing Diplomacy’s parade of red flags didn’t make so much damned sense. “That was a great plan. I’m glad I was able to pull it off.”

Trust politics to get in the way of recognition. It made sense—no Lord could let a subordinate undermine them like that—but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Ardic bowed his head. “Thank you. You played no small part in this victory. For that, you deserve to be handsomely rewarded.”

Well. Ted smiled, or at least came close. Why hadn’t they led with that?

“You wear the same robes as the Battlemages,” Ardic said.

Ted held back a frown. Considering the source, it felt like an accusation, yet his tone was more searching for confirmation. “It was a gift from when I dueled and killed one of them.”

Ardic raised an eyebrow. “You have a strange way of making friends.”

Ted stifled a chuckle. True enough. “You could say that. I’m not a member of the Order, though.” Or a battlemage, for that matter. Not yet, at least.

A crease crept across Ardic’s brow. He glanced at the doorway and forced out a smile. “We took these as trophies, proof of one of our few victories in the Fall of Tarkath. It feels wrong to keep them now. I would have offered them to the Battlemages as a token of our gratitude, but they asked for no reward other than battle. Perhaps you might find a use for them.”

A use for what? What was Ardic waiting for?

A dwarven soldier sprinted into the room carrying a sword and a staff taller than he was. He ran up to Ardic, dropped the weapons at his feet, and keeled over, panting frantically, his gauntlets glowing hot.

Luther stepped forward and healed the soldier. “Thank you, lad.”

Had those weapons burned him? Was this the “reward” that Ardic had been talking about?

At Diplomacy’s insistence, Ted plastered on a smile and waited to find out more. Both weapons were simple designs brimming with powerful magic, and far too large to be designed for dwarves.

Exactly the sort of weapons a Battlemage might use.

Ardic lifted the sword and staff and placed them on the table. He hid it well, but a twitch betrayed his pain at handling them. “These weapons were wielded by the leader of the Order of the Battlemage. We took them after we slew him during the Battle of Tarkath. On behalf of Tonvalbortdelan, the heir of Tarkath, I offer them to you to do as you see fit.”

The sword’s blade was straight and double-edged, not far off three feet long. The handle was large, no doubt designed for orc hands, and a large red gem was encased in the pommel.

Indecipherably complex magic was woven into the entire weapon, all except for the gem. What purpose did the gem serve? Ted couldn’t imagine that vanity or decoration had determined the design for the head of the Order’s weapon.

The staff was nearly as tall as Ted. Almost its entire length was a perfect circle of consistent width, covered in the same smooth bark as the inside of a wood elven tree-room. At the top sat a glass-like orb, a little larger than a tennis ball.

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Did they burn dwarves specifically, whoever was an enemy of the Order at the time, or anyone not a battlemage? Clearly, Ardic suspected it might be the latter. That, or he was still being a complete asshole.

Ted bowed his head. “Thank you for this gift.” This gift that might literally burn me.

Despite that, Ted couldn’t tear his eyes off the weapons. The magic on them was intricate and powerful. After being stabbed, exploded, and repeatedly dying, what was a little more pain?

He reached out, tensed up, and grabbed the sword’s handle.

Fire ignited every nerve in his arm. He dropped the sword and tried not to sigh too loudly. They were beautiful weapons, if only he could wield them.

If he took the Battlemage specialization…

He bit back the urge to pick it immediately. The option was there now he’d hit level 10, but exhaustion clawed at the back of his mind. He wouldn’t get to pick another general specialization for 10 more levels, and that would take nearly 8 times as much XP as he’d gotten so far.

Not that he had another specialization to take yet, and combat specializations were rare. Then again, traits were supposedly pretty much once in a lifetime, if that, and he’d already gathered several of those. Unlocking specializations might well be easier for Heroes.

Sleep first, permanent life-shaping decisions later. “Would you be willing to keep them for me until the morning?”

“Of course,” Ardic said, though his shoulders slumped slightly. “There is… another matter to discuss.”

He paused and looked toward Frieda. She raised her eyebrows and stared back at him.

Ardic nodded slowly. “The wood elves.” He breathed heavily and his eyes darted around the room. “They are under attack.”

“They are.” Ted’s heart pounded against his chest. He knew some of the dwarves would come regardless, but doubtless most would stay without Ardic’s support. The dwarves had suffered many losses already, and the dungeon spawn threat was far from finished. “Any assistance you can give them would be deeply welcome.”

Ardic’s brow furled. “The threat remains. This Transcendent Destroyer… How likely is it that he—it—will return soon?”

Ted and Luther exchanged glances. As it stood, they had no idea, yet how much aid the dwarves could risk sending hinged on the answer.

Luther eventually broke the silence. “I am unsure, my lord. The Destroyer appears several times in our records as a great and terrible danger. However, it is a very rare one.”

Ted held his tongue. The implication was that they wouldn’t see the Destroyer again for a long time, but these were not normal times. Ted knew deep down that they hadn’t seen the last of the Destroyer.

Ardic turned and stared at the wall. “I must look after my people. They are my responsibility now.”

A pit formed in Ted’s stomach. Shit hit the fan, and everyone looked only for themselves. Bloody typical.

Ardic continued, quieter than before. “When you came to me with your suggestion, I dismissed it out of hand. Had you—both of you—not disobeyed my orders, my people would be dead. The world is changing, and we cannot endure alone.”

Ted's heart leaped, despite his best efforts to keep it down. “You’ll send aid?”

“Yes. Luther, you’ll lead an expeditionary force through the portal. Be ready to leave tomorrow. And take a Ring of Communication—if Valbort falls under attack, we may need to recall you. Ted, I believe you can craft us spells to return directly to our portal?”

A portion of the weight upon Ted’s shoulders lifted. “Gladly. I am at your disposal.”

Ardic turned back around and bowed his head. “Excellent. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must discuss matters of state, including the Emperor’s visit tomorrow. You should rest. Orlanda, you as well.”

Orlanda opened her mouth only to be silenced by a glare from Luther. They wanted the room to themselves.

Understanding dawned across her face, and she hurried out, but Ted didn’t follow, not yet.

The Emperor’s visit.

Ted bit at his lip. Had Gramok told them?

Ardic stared at him expectantly. If they were to be allies, there had to be trust. That meant the truth, no matter how painful.

A dark void filled Ted’s chest. His hands clenched up into fists and he swallowed. “The Emperor is coming for me.”

“I am aware of your connection,” Ardic said flatly, obscuring whatever his true thoughts were about the matter. “Your situation is… unfortunate.”

Understatement of the century.

Were they afraid of him? Ted swallowed hard. A Hero and son of the Emperor. How did that stack up against saving their lives? How many more knew? “Thank you.”

Ardic’s stare intensified, and Luther added his own as well.

He’d overstayed his welcome more than enough. “Lord Tonvalbortdelan, Mage-Commander.” Ted bowed from the waist and strode out of the council chamber and out of the keep.

“Hey.”

He turned to find Orlanda leaning against the wall, her face scrunched up into a sheepish expression.

What did she want now?

He scowled and resumed walking. It had been a long day. He didn’t need to be shouted at again for something he couldn’t control.

She sprinted up alongside him. “Thanks for saving our asses.”

He kept walking, pointedly looking forward. Funny how people’s tunes changed once he proved useful.

“Look… I’m sorry, okay?”

Ted scoffed. “Apology accepted. We done now?”

Silence.

Doubt gnawed at his insides. Could he really blame her? How well would he have handled being thrown into the army, forced to fight for his home, and then being confronted by an undying being from a group that wiped out the city of his ancestors?

No better than she had, that was for sure.

He came to a stop and his shoulders slumped. It wasn’t really about that. “It’s fine.” He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “You really want to be a Spellcrafter?”

She shuffled awkwardly. “You’re not staying with us, are you?”

“No.” His gut twisted. It was impossible to deny how useful a Spellcrafter would be, even a lowly skilled one, and it was her life to risk, if that was what she chose. “You want to be a Spellcrafter, knowing the price? Then you be a Spellcrafter.”

Hope lit up her eyes. “Will you teach me?”

“I have… business here tomorrow, and I leave when that is over. But I will teach you what I can before then. Let’s head back to the portal room.” Sleep would have to wait a little longer.

What a shame. Tomorrow couldn’t come late enough.