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Dexter
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Our last errand, thankfully, was finished quickly. The long walk between the prison and the eastern barracks gave me enough time to cool down. There weren't any other surprises either, except maybe the price of renting a practice court and instructor; a hundred teef a month for access to their courtyard and fifty teef an hour for an instructor. I felt the pain at the thought of such an expense for our admittedly limited funds. Amelia and I each got an allowance of five hundred teef a month, accumulated for only three months, but even that was starting to cut in tight with all the new purchases we were being faced with, not to mention the costs we were already faced with studying at the institute. I imagined that the safe would cost a decent amount as well, in addition to the ingredients for the enchantments we had in mind.
I pushed the extensive list of expenses to the back of my mind as Dumag and I finally returned to the Institute, having completed our long loop around the city and being four trinkets and a few hundred teef lighter for it. I rubbed my eye as I felt the fatigue catching up and we approached the front door. “You think they managed to find the right spell?” I asked, hopefully for some good news.
Dumag nodded tiredly. “I know the Institute has a record of the spell,” he explained as we climbed the steps of what counted as a porch. “It is merely a matter of finding the correct tome. That, and collecting the ingredients.”
I nodded as I pushed open the door and stepped inside. My next thought was smothered as a cacophonous murmur filled my ears. Even in the normally quiet entrance hall, filled with various displays of common magical items, the doorway to the left practically vibrated as excited and disbelieving whispers barreled through it. I glanced, confused, towards Dumag as he shut the door behind us. He gave me an equally puzzled expression as we set off through the doorway together. We needn’t walk very far to find the origin of the murmur as we passed through the hallway and entered the Inquiry room to find a large crowd gathered near a board. It was the announcement board.
I didn’t have time to crane my neck to try and see what everyone was looking at before a voice shouted from across the room. “Dexter!” Amelia’s chipper voice said. I turned to see her rushing over, a wide smile plastered on her face. “They finally finished it,” she said happily, pointing towards the crowd.
I glanced over then looked back at her, still confused. “What is?” I asked, a million things whirling through my mind. There was so much they could have been announcing, things that would have pertained to us. It could have been the announcement of new high grade manastones being available in the storehouse, the discovery of the Archive and an invitation to have it studied, the revelation of a collection of spellstones and the possibility to have them studied in order to replicate or even improve upon them, it could even have been … I stopped as I realized what they must have been announcing. My eyes went wide and Amelia’s smile grew as she seemed to know what I was thinking.
Amelia then took my hand and began leading me towards the crowd. “Come on,” she said happily. I followed without protest, a whole world of possibilities opening up as we approached the board. The murmuring grew quieter as we approached, mages turning and stepping aside to let us through. Within moments, Amelia had led me to the announcement board and pointed to a large roll of parchment that dominated the center of it. It read;
The Elder Mother’s Institute of Magic and Alchemy formally recognizes the magic guild known as Iridescent Embers.
Iridescent Embers was the name I had initially chosen for our group when I went to register our discovery of the Archive and the name we had placed on all the papers we gave to Garahk. Below this title was a list of the seven of us, each accompanied by an illustration.
The members of this guild are as follows: Dexter Rodriguez, Champion of the Butterfly, Defender of Snakhagr; Dumag Urbul, Combat Instructor at the Institute, Defender of Snakhagr, Warrior of Gashur; Amelia Belrose, Mage of the Institute; Brokil Zugorim, Introductory Instructor at the Institute, Healer of the Infirmary; Bruga Parfu, Defense Instructor at the Institute, Defender of Snakhagr; Gremach Vetorkag, Lower Mage of the Institute, Defender of Craglekan; Salthu Orok, High Wizard of the Institute.
Beside each name was an illustration, a near perfect representation of our faces, caught with various expressions. If I had to guess, they might have had a spell of some kind to capture a moment in ink. Either that, or they had a really good illustrator. I looked up at the parchment in amazement as the possibilities barreled through my head. The fact that we were a recognized guild now simplified a lot of things. We had an offer for a quest before the papers had even been finalized. From what Uloth had said, guilds could earn a lot by accepting and completing quests. Then again, it also drew a lot of attention, something we didn’t want from the Elites or the other orc tribes right now. I felt my heart leap into my throat, however, as I saw the line at the bottom of the announcement.
This guild has been given conditional permission by Chief Dubak Farod, son of Farod Gashur, to operate within the city of Snakhagr at the request that no damage occur within the city walls. Any and all magical or alchemical trials are the sole responsibility of the Iridescent Embers and their members. Speak with the inquiry desk for the location of their guildhouse.
My sigh could not relieve this new weight on my shoulders. It could only harden my resolve. It was only now that I realized my hands were shaking. I jumped as a shrill voice shook me from my thoughts. “Not what you expected?” She asked, her own voice filled with excitement and concern.
I instinctively shook my head, nervous and excited at the same time. “They didn’t take a great picture,” I deflected. “I know my own frustrated concentration when I see it.” I wasn’t wrong. My own illustration had my brow furrowed and lips pursed slightly. I could only guess I wasn’t happy with whatever I was looking at. They even managed to capture the angry crack in my glasses. Then again, with all that was going on, I hadn’t exactly had the time to enjoy myself.
Amelia looked up at the board and let out a chuckle. “I could say the same for mine,” she said, pointing. Her illustration seemed far more graceful, her face calm but also concentrated as she rested her head on the arm of a chair. “I’m pretty sure they found me when I was playing a contortionist on one of their benches,” she continued, pointing. “You can even see my knee in the corner.”
I squinted near the corner, but all I saw was an extra line or two. She might have been telling the truth; or she was just trying to make me feel better. I chuckled as I took a quick glance at the other illustrations. Each of the others seemed caught unawares and had equally candid expressions as me and Amelia, save for Salthu who seemed to be looking right at whoever had made the illustrations. “At least we know what was in that message for Garahk,” I sighed, still trying to deflect from my sudden nervousness. “I just wish we didn’t have to deal with this mystery bullshit.”
Amelia chuckled again and seemed about to say something when a hand slammed into my shoulder and Brokil’s cheering voice met my ears. “The Day Just Keeps On Giving, Does It Not?” He said loudly, pulling my attention to him. A wide smile was plastered across his face. I found myself being put a bit at ease as Brokil began listing off what he, Gremach, and Salthu managed to accomplish that day. Salthu was a good pick to send to the library. He found the books we needed and made a list of ingredients in the time it took Gremach and Brokil to place an order for a safe with Urog. Down another hundred a fifty teef and we’d have it within a month. Not ideal, but not much we could do. It also turned out the storehouse had a surplus on many of the ingredients we needed and Gremach was able to negotiate a discount on some of the more common ones; more ideal. Some of the ingredients we needed we’d have to gather ourselves, which meant a trip outside the city, but we had most of what we needed. Brokil finished up by flipping through the tome and showing me the spell that would go around the barn. It was simply titled ‘Detection’ and had an illustration of an orc in a building grabbing some kind of staff as dark figures outside the building approached.
I sighed in relief as I read the description of the spell. From what it said, it would allow us to build an apparatus that would alert anyone attuned to it if an unattuned person had entered an area we designated. It wouldn't protect the barn, but it would prevent us from being jumped in the middle of the night, even if we were asleep. “This is perfect.” I said, showing a genuine smile as I turned to them. “Good job. How long before we can gather the last of the ingredients?”
Brokil gestured towards the entrance as he replied. “I can purchase a pair of them from the Apothecary to the North. The last one will require a hunting trip to the mountains near there. The sponge stones must be freshly harvested from the mountain goats.”
I nodded as I closed the book and handed it back. “Perfect. What about the other enchanting spells? Amelia and I still need our own gear for situations. Scrounging up what we can from our Archive relics is only going to get us so far.”
In retrospect, Brokil’s jovial expression faltered for a second as he opened his satchel and thumbed through the books. “That was a more difficult matter,” he admitted. “We gathered some books on basic enchantments, but did not procure specific ingredients.” He then pulled out a tome and handed it to me. “You gave no instruction on which enchantments you would need. This left Salthu to merely gather information on the craft.”
I thumbed through the book as Brokil explained. The contents were extensive and complicated. From the looks of it, imbuing an object with magic wasn’t as simple as casting a spell at it. There seemed to be a myriad of circles, foci, constructs, and ingredients that went into making them. From active to passive effects, elemental, illusionary, transformative, even something as simple as a wand for enhancing the Levitate spell required a laundry list of prebuilt items that each required their own constructions to make. I furrowed my brow again as the material cost of things practically exploded in my face. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” I muttered, continuing to flip through the pages. Most of the book was filled with the various constructs that served individual roles in the making of an enchantment. The rest of it was dedicated to some simple enchantments; Protection, Enhance [Spell] or [Element], Fortify, Gleam, and the like. None of them popped out at me as something to have and the material cost to even make them was preventing me from choosing. “Another god-damn cost for this god-damn magic on this god-damned-”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Amelia giving me a concerned expression. “We don’t have to figure this out right now,” she said, pointing to the board. “We should celebrate. We earned it after yesterday.” I felt like slapping myself as I realized I'd done it again.
Before I could offer an apology, another hand slammed onto my shoulder and Dumag's voice rang out over the murmurs in front of the announcement board. “An excellent idea. A night of celebration is in order.” I was then pulled, along with Brokil back towards the entrance to the Institute. “Come. Bruga tells me of an excellent tavern where we might be merry for the night.”
I offered as genuine a smile as I could as I mentally kicked myself again. “Yeah. Let's go,” I said, tucking the book under my arm as I began keeping pace with Dumag. I glanced at Amelia as I gave an apologetic expression before turning to Dumag. “So, what's the place called?”
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In retrospect, I should have known exactly which tavern Bruga would recommend. Yet, it only took us getting all the way there before I realized. Regardless, it didn't take long for us to make our way to the Foaming Flagon and the tavern of Bruga's brother, Brugo.
Visiting the tavern after the sun went down was a completely different experience to the two other times I'd gone. The end of the day crowd was filling the tables, leaving only a few of them open by the time our group pushed through the door. In the corner a trio of musicians were strumming away, harmonizing and singing about a farmer that apparently made a deal with the devil over a lute of gold.
A vague familiarity tugged at my mind as Bruga strode towards the bar, arms outstretched. “Brother!” She said cheerily.
Brugo looked up from beneath the counter, grinned widely, then threw his arms out as the pair embraced over the bar. “Sister!” He said happily. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Brugo’s eyes had a moment to flit towards the rest of us entering the tavern before Bruga replied to his question with enthusiasm. “Well, me and my guildmates are in dire need of celebration and I knew just the person to turn to for some drinks after these last couple of days.”
Brugo's smile widened at the mention of guildmates and his cackling bellow filled the tightly packed tavern. “HAHAHAHAAA. So they finally did it?” He practically shouted, turning to us. “About sarding time. My sister was starting to worry, with how long the Institute was taking.”
Bruga’s expression flashed to annoyance before becoming … amused. “You should have known the Institute would never turn down a request from one such as myself.”
I felt a modicum of ease as I finally realized that Brugo and Bruga were participating in their own form of sibling banter. At least, I hoped it was sibling banter. I could only assume such, as Brugo produced a half dozen mugs and filled them with amber colored ale. “Then you lot have earned a celebration. Come. This round is on the house.” Bruga beamed in response as she took the mugs and handed one to each of us. “Thank you, brother.” She said smugly. “I will be sure to parade around our guild when it finds fortune.”
Brugo only grinned at the cocky boast as he wiped a spot on the bar. “So long as that parade finds itself here with intent to spend that fortune.” He countered.
Bruga smiled as she picked up her mug. “You know it will,” she said before leading everyone to an empty table. I saw Amelia take a hesitant sip as Bruga raised hers in toast. “To the Guild!” she shouted. All of us lifted a mug in unison as we officially celebrated our group, but I could not shake the feeling of paranoia as my eyes flitted to the door, half expecting an Elite to burst through at any moment.
The back of my mind nagged at me as I downed the drink. The tingling buzz of alcohol was almost a welcome distraction. I tried to focus on Amelia’s assurance that we had earned a break, but couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia as we ate and drank. My mind whirred with scenarios; some I could prepare for given our current capacity, others that would require more trips to the library in hope of a solution. Still, I forced myself to enjoy what I could as the musicians in the corner moved onto song after song. Most had the same jovial and raucous tone that had first appeared as we entered the bar, but the occasional grim tale of some adventure or another always seemed just around the corner. Word spread quickly about the new guild and we quickly became the center of attention. Our adventure in Vedug was recounted by Gremach and Salthu, the pair of which seemed to have a knack for storytelling, followed by our most recent outing against the elites told by Brokil and Dumag. Their knacks did not seem to be in the field of oral narrative. Bruga, meanwhile, wasted no time in downing vast amounts of alcohol, seeming to shock even her brother as she finished three mugs in the span of an hour.
As the night wore on, the musicians became more of a backdrop as the other patrons began recounting tales of their own. Our table soon became just a place for us to kick back and watch the rest of the tavern enjoy themselves. I found myself wandering about, hearing stories from other groups; with the bar being the best place for anyone to just listen in.
Throughout the evening I heard patrons recount tales of old scars that criss crossed each of their bodies. Anywhere from a large fish that almost escaped to a battlescar that had warned its bearer of every storm they had seen in the last 50 years. I ran my thumb along my own handful of scars as I tried to focus on the buzz the alcohol was delivering to me. They didn’t hurt, but I felt uneasy at the scant few adventures we had already embarked on that had already stacked up marks on my body. My mind began to spiral as I tried to formulate the next logical step for the Elites given what little information we had on them.
My internal cognition was interrupted as Amelia sat beside me and leaned in close. “Penny for your thoughts?” She asked bluntly.
I jumped at the intrusion and quickly fished around for a response. “The-uh-the drinks are good.” I deflected. Amelia's expression of concern didn't falter. She didn't believe me. I sighed before reluctantly continuing. “I’m worried about the elves.” I admitted. “These last couple of days have been such a whirlwind that … They turned the entire city on its head before anyone even realized they were there. You only hear about that kind of thing in movies and books. Sure, we set up some things to be cautious, but we don’t really know what kind of group they-”
“Dexter.” Amelia’s firm voice stopped me before I could continue. I turned to see her giving me a reassuring expression. “We’ve earned this.” she said simply. “We’ve done all we can for right now. What we need now is food and rest. We can worry about them in the morning.”
I pursed my lips as I took a deep breath, knowing the truth behind those words. “I’m ruining it, aren’t I.” I muttered, guilt briefly washing over my paranoia.
Amelia shook her head as her hand gripped my shoulder. “You’re not, you’re just ….” Another sigh left Amelia’s lips as she took a swig from her drink. There was a pregnant pause before she finally continued. “I’m just worried about you,” she said finally. “I heard about what happened in the cave, after the ambush. I see you with this intense expression all the time. … I know you just want to help, but you can’t help others if you get hurt, get separated, … get killed.” I bit my cheek hard at the last part, remembering Dumag’s words in the cavern. Amelia continued. “I just want to make sure that you know it’s okay to take a break once in a while. You said it yourself. The elites are likely going to need to regroup and assess their situation, which will take time. We can take one more day to rest; enjoy what we accomplished.”
I took a deep breath. Hearing those words from someone else …. helped. It felt like putting a blanket over my emotions. I knew it was still there, but I could stand to look away for a little while. “You would have made a good psychologist,” I said, giving Amelia what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Amelia smiled back as she lifted her drink, offering me a toast. I lifted my drink to accept when I noticed the scar on Amelia’s arm, barely covered by the sleeve of the T-shirt she was wearing. I felt a surge of guilt as I remembered where she got it. "Does … does that hurt at all?" I ask, pointing at the splattered ridge of skin. The scar looked to have been caused by a stab that turned into a slash, also completely ignoring the leather armor she would have been wearing. I made a note to be careful about another enchanted knife from the group.
Amelia glanced at her arm before lowering her drink and covering the scar with her other hand. "Not at all." She said quickly. I couldn't tell if she was lying. Another unfortunate product of my hypothalamus condition. Unless you had piss poor deception skills, or you were saying something categorically false, it was impossible for me to know if you were lying. Amelia quickly deflected as she downed the last of her drink. "Besides, I'm not the only one that got a scar yesterday." She tapped her chin, indicating the slash across my own. It ran diagonally from just below the left corner of my lip to just above my Adam's apple. "Don't know what you were thinking to run after the Elites. They fought off a sneak attack against all of us. You were just asking for trouble when you ran after them."
I let out a frustrated sigh at the last part, feeling the blanket tear a bit. "Obviously, I wasn't thinking." I replied, internally berating myself. "As a matter of fact, I …” I stopped as I took a second to wonder if I was really about to open up that can of worms again. The next second, I felt a familiar surge of anger as I took my drink and downed the last of it, drops of the golden amber liquid spilling past the corner of my lips. “She deserves to know about it.” I told myself, lowering the now empty mug. I let out another sigh as my fingers gripped the cup tightly. “I … have a condition. It’s something you should be aware of.” Amelia gave me a quizzical look as I started my spiel. I told her everything I told Dumag; the condition, the effects, the side effects, the consequences of said effects. It was easier telling it to her, which was a relief. She already knew about the parts of the brain, probably better than I did to be honest. Her confusion turned to intrigue, then turned to sympathy as I spoke. Knowing enough about her, I could understand why.
By the time I was done, Amelia had a stunned expression. “Woah,” she gasped simply. “I had no idea that condition was even possible.”
I nodded as I tapped my head. “I think my dad had his suspicions, but it wasn’t confirmed until he had a health scare and got a CT scan. Then we found out it was extremely hereditary when my oldest brother hit puberty. Dominant genes are unpredictable sometimes."
Amelia nodded as she sat back on her bar stool. The patrons took no notice of us; too wrapped up in their own tales and stories that filled the bar with raucous laughter. Amelia merely sat in stunned silence as she took in my revelation. “In retrospect, that makes so much sense.” She finally replied. “You always seemed to be on the hair’s edge of rage and it just makes sense now.”
I chuckled at the admittance. The buzz of alcohol seemed to be helping somewhat. “I’m glad I could admit this to you,” I sighed. “It’s … stressful without people that understand.”
I let the words hang in the air as I stared at my empty cup. It felt good to just let the moment rest. A cheer rose up behind us and I turned to see Bruga and Brokil, seemingly in the midst of a drinking contest against two other orcs. Salthu had passed out on the bench beside them. I craned my neck to see the third orc that once sat beside the other two in the drinking contest, but was currently slumped to the floor, mug still in hand. Dumag stood in the crowd and cheered on Bruga and Brokil. I chuckled as I turned back to Amelia. “We should get back in there.” I said, momentarily forgetting my worries.
Amelia nodded as she watched the contest for a moment before a smile crept across her face. “So,” she said smugly as she turned to me. “Rodriguez.”
I smiled back and chuckled. “Belrose,” I replied. I examined my empty cup before I turned to Brugo and held up the mug. “Another round, please,” I declared, setting the mug on the bar and holding up a pair of fingers.
Brugo nodded as he reached behind the bar. Amelia smiled as our drinks were poured and we lifted our now filled cups. “To the guild.” Amelia said simply. “To our glorious Servident. May he serve the guild well.”
I chuckled at the weird toast before accepting the toast and lifting the mug to my lips. “That sounds like a movie quote.” I remarked, before taking a sip of the warm amber liquor. “Where did you hear that one?’
Amelia gave me a weird look before she took a sip of her drink. “I paraphrased the first words to the inaugurated Washington. I can’t believe you haven’t heard them before.”
I gave her a confused look as I set my mug back down on the bar. “George Washington?” I asked. “Or is there some other Washington I haven’t heard about?”
Amelia shook her head before she took a large swig of her drink. “No, it’s definitely George Washington. Y’know, the first Servident? The current servident just had a meeting with the General Secretary.”
I furrowed my brows at the weird combination of words. “Do you mean the Secretary Gener- Are you talking about the President?” I asked, suddenly realizing the much more blatant discrepancy in my historical knowledge. “Who calls the position a Servident?”
It was Amelia’s turn to furrow her brow as she set her mug down. “In all my life, I have never heard anyone call the office a President. Even in the African nations, they call it a Servident. Y’know, He who serves?”
I felt my confusion rising as I wracked my brain for any logical explanation for this unexpected twist. “Amelia, I have textbooks of American and world history back at the barn and none of them ever use the word Servident or General Secretary. You’re the one that got taught weird history.”
Amelia shook her head insistently as she rubbed her head. “Dexter, that’s impossible. I even had a class trip to the capital and every museum there used the word Servident. There’s no way you have a book that could- …. Unless.” Amelia suddenly seemed deep in thought and I in turn tried to parse how this situation came up.
I gritted my teeth as I thought intensely. It was impossible that an entire part of America would call it anything other than a President. Even in the D.C area couldn’t have had so many misprints, and nowhere did I ever see the word Servident. Even in all the parallel world stories from the comics, they still called the position a president. They had that in com-
My eyes suddenly widened as I suddenly realized the obvious answer. I turned and met Amelia’s eyes as she finally looked at me. ”Are we from different worlds?” we asked in unison. A chill ran down my spine as a further realization dawned on me. We were both very far from home.
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