On his way home from the successful training session with Aquillus, Alan noticed an unusually large amount of soldiers on their way to the outskirts of the city. They were all armed with large shields and spears, had heavy looking packs, and wore the recognizable royal blue uniforms marking them as part of the King’s personal retinue. Among them, Alan also spotted several knights riding massive war horses and clad in heavy armor. They were equipped with both lances, shields, and swords hanging from the waist, and were majestic to behold. Alan was most impressed by the sheer size of the horses, and guesstimated their weight to be close to a ton. Every knight was given a wide berth by the common people in the streets, and in many cases people bowed their heads as the knights passed. There was clearly a lot of respect for the royal knights among the inhabitants of the city.
When Alan entered his home, he was quickly met by an agitated Naida in the entrance hall.
“Alan! What took you so long?” Naida asked, seemingly stressed about something, though Alan couldn’t remember any plans for the evening.
“There were a lot of soldiers about, so I had to stop here and there to wait for them to pass. Why, what’s going on?” Alan answered calmly, as he stepped inside.
“You’ve been invited to dinner at the residence of Archmage Storm!” Naida said excitedly, fidgeting with her hands. “A messenger just came by with the news, and also informed that the archmage hoped you could arrive early, as he had something to discuss with you. We have to find you something appropriate to wear, come on!” Naida pulled Alan along, with no ear for his protests.
After Naida had put together something she deemed barely acceptable, which included forcing Alan to try out a lot of different combinations, he was finally on his way towards the Storm Estate.
Alan had never been there before, but the messenger had left detailed instructions, and to Alan’s relief, the place was quite easy to find. It was situated in the central part of the city, relatively close to the Royal Palace. The mansion was the size of a small palace itself, and had large gardens surrounding it, and the entire lot was fenced in by two meter tall walls. As Alan approached the main gate, a piece of art made of wrought iron, he noticed a guard stationed by a smaller entrance to the side.
“State your name and business at the Storm Estate, young Sir” The guard said in a stern voice.
“Alexander Moltus, I’m here at the invitation of Archmage Storm,” Alan answered uncertainly, taken aback slightly by the strict tone of the guard.
“Ah, Sir Moltus, you are expected. Please proceed to the main entrance.” The guard responded, opening the side door while he spoke. His tone did not change however, which still made Alan feel unwelcome. He guessed that the guard had been told to treat any visitors with respect, but probably found it difficult if said visitor was no more than a child.
“Thank you,” Alan said as he went through the door, trying to dispel his unease.
He followed the road towards the main house, which gave him a good look at a rather spectacular garden, filled with beautiful flowers of all colors of the rainbow, arranged in intricate patterns along the path. Alan passed a pond on the way, with a small, white pagoda situated neatly on the other side. The trees also added a vibrant green color to the garden, which together with the soft looking grass made for quite the idyllic scene.
Alan was lost in the beauty of the garden, and almost walked straight into the front facade of the house. Luckily, the sounds of a door opening pulled him out of his stupor, and he quickly turned towards the open door.
“Welcome to the Storm Estate, Young Master Moltus. We’ve been expecting you.” An elder man dressed in black attire akin to a butler suit, held open the door and addressed Alan.
“Thank you very much, Mister.. Eh..” Alan had no idea what the name of Storm’s head butler was, he realized half way through his sentence. He couldn’t see on the butlers neutral expression of this was expected or a surprise.
“I am Edgar Heath, head butler and secretary of Archmage Storm. If you’ll kindly follow me, Sir.” The butler quickly shut the door after Alan entered, and led him deeper into the mansion.
The hallways were richly decorated, draped in colorful fabrics and several large paintings. Alan had to hurry to follow the butler’s determined gait, so he could only glance at the portraits and landscape paintings as he passed them.
The butler stopped in front of a set of double doors, knocked twice, then entered.
“Young Master Moltus, my Lord.” The butler announced shortly, waited for Alan to go enter the room, then immediately retreated and closed the doors behind him.
“So, we meet again, professor.” Magnus Storm said as the butler left. The archmage was sitting at the head of a long table, and looking towards Alan with a mischievous grin. “I thought we could use this opportunity to chat a little, before dinner is served. Please take a seat.”
There were only a few chairs around the table, and Alan sat down on the seat closest to Magnus, which was still a few meters away from him. There was some tension in the air as Alan turned to Magnus, but less than he had feared. Alan had expected a sort of interrogation about what was revealed in their last meeting, but found that the dinner table setting diffused some of his nervousness. Also, the chair was surprisingly comfortable.
“I’d like to start off with a few questions,” Magnus began slowly. “As you can imagine, I have quite a few. We’ll start with the most important ones, and take it from there.” There was no twinkle in Magnus’ eye now, only a stern and serious face. It was clear to Alan that this was indeed an interrogation of sorts, and that he, too, had to take it seriously.
“Who are you?” Magnus regarded Alan with interest.
“I’m Alan, but I’m also known as Alexander Moltus around here. I prefer to be known as Alan, though.”
“Where are you from, Alan?”
Alan contemplated the question for a while, not sure what he should answer. Not only was it a difficult question to answer, it was also a matter of how much to reveal. Could he trust Archmage Magnus Storm with the truth about him?
“I was born here in Patros, if that answers your question.”
“It doesn’t, actually. What are you, Alan?” Magnus leaned forward now, an intense look in his eyes.
“I’m human, I think. I don’t have any evidence to the contrary, at least.” Alan was working hard to ignore the pressure of Magnus’ stern gaze.
“You’re human, you think… very well, I’ll accept it for the time being.” Magnus sat back and relented somewhat on the intensity in his bearing.
“What are your intentions with my daughter, Catherine?”
“I have no intentions towards your daughter at all,” Alan answered honestly. “She asked for friendship, at some point, but I assume it was a part of one of her ploys. To be honest, I think she might simply have been using me to get closer to Marissa, but it’s difficult to say.”
“Do you practice lightning based mind enhancement magic?” Magnus asked suddenly, as soon as Alan had finished his sentence.
“No, and neither should anyone else, I think. Messing with the mind is not something to be done lightly.” Alan was accusatory in his statement, showing some of his anger over the fact that Magnus had taught Catherine such dangerous magic. Assuming Catherine hadn’t lied about that as well.
“I’m having some difficulties believing that you are actually twelve, understandably so, wouldn’t you agree? No twelve year old should speak the way you do, with your level of insight. Are you really twelve?”
“Yes.” Alan answered as simply as he could. He imagined that part of the “truth-telling” ability of Magnus was based on his immediate thoughts and feelings when he answered something, so he thought it best to answer difficult questions with simple and accurate wording.
“You still stand by that, huh?” A sigh escaped from Magnus, as he sank back a bit into his chair. Suddenly, he was looking a lot older and more fragile, his posture no longer radiating strength. “You know, I was hoping to come out of this conversation with mutual trust and respect. I understand it is difficult to confide in me so suddenly, and I expect you to keep most of your secrets to yourself, but still…”
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A heavy silence filled the air between the two for a while. Alan was debating internally, struggling to decide how much he was willing to share. He didn’t understand what Magnus wanted, what drove him to this interrogation. It was obvious by this point, however, that refusing to share even the tiniest bit of information might antagonize the archmage, a less than ideal outcome in Alan’s mind. There were no easy paths in life, though, Alan had to remind himself. And in the end, he had always been better off with friends than on his own previously.
“How much do you know about death?” Alan asked eventually, with some reluctance.
“Are you talking about death magic, necromancy?” Magnus asked in return, with a tinge of anger in his voice.
“No,” Alan answered quickly, “not magic. Just death. What do you know about what happens after death?”
“Assuming no one interferes, the body rots and the soul moves on, or so the story goes. There’s little knowledge on the subject, only speculation.” Magnus said with rising interest in his look.
“I have no proof of this,” Alan began, aware of the intense curiosity in Magnus’ eyes, ” but I believe reincarnation might be the best description of what happens after death.”
“So that’s your secret? You’ve lived another life?” Magnus asked with trepidation in his voice.
“I think everyone has lived many lives, though I might be wrong. It is not impossible someone implanted memories in me when I was born, or potentially even before, but it seems unlikely. I have memories of another life, as you correctly guessed. And they are too vivid, detailed, and consistent to be confused with dreams, I think.” Alan felt immensely relieved to have confided in someone, though he was still wary of Magnus’ intent.
“That… does not seem completely impossible, based on the limited knowledge I have on the subject.” Magnus finally said, having relaxed into his chair again. He seemed to be considering the implication of life after death, and what it meant for his world view.
“It does lighten the prospects of death a bit, doesn’t it, to believe we just restart again somewhere else?” Magnus eventually said.
“I’m sure it will seem like a consolation to many, but I’m not sure what I think of it myself.” Alan answered. “I assume it doesn’t really matter if you don’t remember anything of a previous life, but if you do, the memories can sometimes be a heavy burden to bear.”
“Hmm, I guess you’d know better than most.” Magnus answered, seemingly shifting gears towards another discussion.
“Well, now that you’ve extended trust to me, it’s only fair I do the same. I assume you’ve heard of the fact that a prophecy has been delivered to the King?”
“I have.” Alan answered, not sure where they were headed.
“Then you’ve probably wondered what it was warning about. As an extension of trust from my side, I can explain what the prophecy entailed, and the general situation our kingdom finds itself in.” Magnus was smiling now, clearly happy that they had ended up more or less where he was hoping.
“And this knowledge doesn’t endanger me or my family in any way, I hope?” Alan had to ask, since the secret had been kept even in an extended period of public interest in the subject.
“No, it shouldn’t be a problem, the King will make an announcement soon anyways.” Magnus waved Alan’s concerns away, at the same time diminishing the worth of the information greatly, though it hardly mattered to Alan. What he hoped to get out of his confession was trust and possibly friendship, which was worth a whole lot more than a piece of information.
“The prophecy spoke about a war, unlike any other this world has seen. And it specified “this world”, which is part of the reason I’m so interested in your circumstances. Our King is naturally wary of a war “unlike any other”, since we assume it means more casualties than we’ve ever seen before.” Magnus paused, looking at Alan intensely.
“The largest armed conflict in documented history saw more than two hundred thousand people perish, eventually leading to the fall of the Empire Austere, some five centuries ago. The war involved several other kingdoms at the time, with a series of diplomatic scandals leading up to the conflict. It was called The War of Seven Crowns, and was the bloodiest and most brutal war in recorded history” Magnus sighed heavily, before continuing.
“The situation today is quite different from then. We have amicable relations with most of our neighbours, and there are even several non-aggression treaties between us and a few countries around us. The only exception is the Syrodin empire to the west, which has been expanding and absorbing smaller nations around it.”
“The Syrodin Empire is by far the largest threat of war, and we are preparing for a diplomatic expedition to depart soon, which is the reason for the troop movement throughout the city. The King himself will be joining this expedition, to do everything in his power for it to be successful, which is why we need such a large amount of troops in the first place.”
Magnus was coming to the end of his explanation now, Alan saw on his whole demeanor. Now the real questions would come.
“I have faith in our King, and in this diplomatic mission, but I still need to ask this of you,” Magnus somberly said, and if Alan wasn’t mistaken there were traces of fear in Magnus’ eyes now.
“You have memories from another world. Have you ever heard of a war more brutal than the War of Seven Crowns?” Magnus finally asked. Alan expected he would not like the answer.
“I have, sadly, heard of several.” Alan answered slowly. “The most horrific among them, was simply called World War II.”
“World… War” Magnus repeated slowly.
“TWO??” A feminine voice squeaked out from behind one of the doors, which Alan just noticed was slightly ajar.
“You might as well come in now, Catherine.” Magnus said, a small smile fighting for life on his face.
Catherine entered quickly after, with only short lived embarrassment on her face, clearly not feeling guilty for eavesdropping. She plumped down opposite of Alan, with curiosity clearly showing in her eyes.
“You had two world wars??” Catherine asked, excitedly.
“They were horrible and honorless affairs, with millions of casualties.” Alan stated darkly, not enthused by Catherine’s excitement.
“Millions..? That can’t be right,” Magnus stated, seemingly confused.
“The commonly known estimates of casualties in World War II, indicate somewhere between 70 to 80 million deaths, if I recall correctly.” Alan answered slowly. “And the most horrifying aspect of that number is that about two thirds were civilian deaths. I sincerely hope this world will never know of anything even remotely resembling the absolutely catastrophic events of World War II.”
At hearing such numbers, even Catherine’s expression fell. Alan knew she felt pride for her father’s involvement in wars that the Kingdom of Alamar had been involved in, but he suspected it was a result of a coping mechanism more than anything else. To children, war should be a completely foreign and unrelatable concept, to such a degree that it makes more sense to latch onto whatever positive sides they could find, than to try to understand the reality of it. Alan didn’t blame Catherine in the least for finding war fascinating, as he himself had no experience with it whatsoever, and could only recite other sources on the subject.
“I think we should table this discussion for now,” Magnus stated after a short silence, “and since we’re all gathered now, we might as well ask for some food.” A mischievous look was directed towards Catherine as Magnus took utensils in both his hands.
“Please don’t-” Catherine began, but was quickly interrupted.
“WE WANT FOOD! WE WANT FOOD! WE WANT FOOD!” The old and well respected archmage shouted out, hitting the dinner table with his utensils, and laughing out loud when Alan joined in. Catherine buried her face in her hands, clearly not of the opinion that this was a perfectly fine way for High Nobles to act in the presence of guests. The fact that Alan joined in somehow didn’t seem to help either.
Mister Heath quickly arrived at the scene. “The food is being prepared, and will arrive shortly. Please refrain from damaging the silverware or the mahogany table in the meantime.”
“Did he just reprimand me?” Magnus asked, looking at Alan with mock surprise on his face. “Scandalous!”
“A most heinous crime, my Lord,” Alan played along. “A deduction of salary should put him in his place. How about an entire copper coin deduction? He’d feel that damage to his economy for a while.”
“A most brilliant idea, Sir Moltus!” Magnus exclaimed. “Did you get that, Secretary Heath? Please deduct a copper a month from Head Butler Heath’s salary, and place it in a fund for young Miss Catherine, for when she comes of age.”
Heath didn’t change expression in the slightest from the tirade, and left the room with a simple “I’ll see to it, my Lord.”
After another few more or less successful attempts at embarrassing Catherine, the trio ate the subsequently served food with great appetite. Catherine brought up the latest scandal, which apparently was about one of the councilmen who had been seen leaving a brothel. Since said man was also married, with several children, this had sparked an angry response from the Church. It had turned into a nightmare for the King, who had been asked to remove the man in question from the Council.
The debate had apparently created something of a conflict between the Church and the King, who had refused to remove the man on the basis of what he referred to as unfounded accusations. Catherine was excitedly describing the entire thing as a conspiracy to weaken the King’s position, though she had yet to identify the main culprit behind it. Magnus was adamant that the intentions of the Church were strictly beneath the King, and that he should simply ignore their ramblings. Alan didn’t know what to think, but he thoroughly enjoyed Catherine’s ideas of who stood to gain the most from weakening the King.
When the time came for Alan to go home, Magnus suddenly took on a more serious expression. “There is something I would like to ask of you before you leave, a rather large favor.”
“Okay?” Alan said, uncertainly. “What is it about?”
“It has come to my attention that you’d like to take a look at our family legacy, our texts and manuscripts describing how to learn and wield the power of lightning. Is that correct?”
“Well, yes, but it was more of an innocent question than a strong desire, to be honest,” Alan said, still uncertain about where this was going.
“If you do this favor for me, I’ll allow you to read some of those texts in return. Sound interesting?”
“Dad, what are you doing?” Catherine asked, confused. “You said you wouldn’t take on any other disciples.”
“It does sound interesting, sure, but it all depends on the nature of this favor.” Alan said warily. He understood the value of the offer, or at least that what Magnus offered was very valuable, but that didn’t excite him as much as it scared him.
“I’ll be leaving on the diplomatic expedition to the Syrodin Empire shortly, and I expect it will take us at least eight months of travel time, and probably a month or two with negotiations. In the meantime, I would like you to help protect Catherine from potential suitors.” Magnus had a serious expression as he stated his request.
“What?” Was all Alan managed to say in response.
“I don’t need his help for that!” Catherine exclaimed.
“I’ll be gone for almost a year, and possibly more.” Magnus continued, ignoring Catherine. “If the worst should come to pass, gods forbid, I won’t return at all. I trust Edgar Heath to do what he can to protect Catherine, but there are certain arenas it will be difficult for him to help on. I’d like you to help wherever you can, in whatever manner you can. In return, I’ll let you look at selected scrolls, when Heath has deemed your help valuable enough. What do you think?”
“Don’t answer that!” Catherine said sharply to Alan, then turned towards her father. “That’s my legacy you’re giving away! You can’t do that! You promised me that I would be the…”
Catherine’s complaints became background noise as Alan thought about the request for a short while before answering. It wasn’t that big of a commitment on the surface, but it might have the potential to drag him into a dispute between powerful noble factions.
“I can’t promise much,” Alan began, which stopped Catherine in her tracks, “but I’ll try to help out when I think it is needed, and it won’t create too many problems for me or my family.” It was a vague answer, but the request was similarly vague.
“That’s great! I can’t reasonably expect more than that.” Magnus said, clearly happy with Alan’s response.
“What exactly did you two just agree on?” Catherine asked in a mix of confusion and anger, staring daggers at both of them.
Alan pointedly avoided making eye contact with Catherine, and went towards the double doors to leave.
“Oh, Alan, one last thing,” the old archmage said before Alan had reached the exit. “Try not to fall for Catherine while protecting her. It’s not worth it.” Magnus had a mirthful smile on his face, while Catherine gasped in horror.
“DID YOU JUST SAY I’M NOT WORTH-”
“I know.” Alan said, and quickly made his exit. Behind him, a cacophony of sound indicated something had been hastily thrown his way, and shattered at the wall right next to the door. Alan beat a hasty retreat before he became a victim of Catherine’s rage, feeling slightly bad for egging her on, but thoroughly enjoying it in the process. His only true feelings of guilt was for the butler, who probably had to clean up the mess after hurricane Catherine had passed.