Winter 4986, 22 Aoimoth

Rasnah found Branston in the chapel of Soleil and was grateful she wouldn't have to climb the stairs to his office. She waited in the back for him to finish his prayers and blessings, the stack of heavy books weighing down her mind more than her arms. "General..." one of the parishioners greeted her in a respectful whisper as he passed, and she managed to force a smile.

"My dear Sir Rasnah, is that a library in your hands or are you just happy to see me?" Branston asked with a jovial laugh that shook his belly.

Rasnah wanted to smile for him, but he was too good a friend to deserve something fake, "I was hoping to use one of your classrooms, I assume the children are done with their studies for the day?"

The shift in Branston's demeanor was subtle, but she was relieved to see he understood her mood. He continued the smile for the sake of his priests and petitioners still mingling in the chapel. "Right this way, General." he opened the door to the courtyard for her, whispering, "Need a change of scene, my dear?"

"I need a blackboard," she explained, following him around the outer edge of the courtyard to the classrooms where the city children took their lessons. "The Temple has great rooms for planning battles, full of maps and tokens galore, but not a single blackboard."

"Seems like a great oversight," he chuckled, opening one of the classroom doors and gesturing her in, "Let us hope that fixing that particular problem isn't the only heroic accomplishment you're known for in generations to come."

Rasnah snorted out a genuine laugh at that, placing her pile on one of the tiny desks but going straight for the board. "The Clerics of Lune were able to identify four of the ten bodies from the tower," she explained, searching the tray for a large piece of chalk. "I've had someone tracing the names, but they weren't natives to Clearhelm, and they didn't come here through legal channels."

"Not surprising, considering..." he moved to stand beside her, squinting at the board, "What are you...?"

"Warlocks, Branston. We know there were Warlocks at the tower, but that's the only thing we know. What do you know about Warlock magic?"

Branston sucked in a pained breath, "Probably little more than you, my dear. Tell me what you know, and I will fill in any blanks I see."

With a sigh, Rasnah began to write on the board, speaking as she did so. She wanted to get everything out so she could actually see it, maybe draw connections she was missing from turning too many pages in too many books, "Warlock magic is neither divine nor arcane, though it is more similar to arcane in nature..."

"Except it's gifted to them by a patron, much like divine magic is gifted by the gods," Branston interjected. Rasnah had started to draw out the standard venn diagram with the 'divine' circle, and 'arcane' circle intersecting but stopped halfway through writing the word 'nature' between the two. Branston shook his head, "I'm afraid this won't work quite so cleanly in two dimensions..." he moved to the teacher's desk, taking a blank piece of paper and drawing out the venn diagram again, filling the page with the circles, so they touched the edges. Picking it up, he rolled the page into a tube, so the two circles intersected twice, "Warlock magic is the opposite of nature magic, though it has the same overlapping sources." he explained.

Rasnah groaned and erased her started 'nature' with the side of her hand, scrawling, 'warlock' in its place for simplicity's sake, "Let's just ignore nature for now then..." she tapped the new word, "Warlock magic leaves a very distinct residue, like both divine and arcane, but unlike them, it can't be accurately identified as anything other than 'warlock'..." But Branston hummed to interrupt her again.

"There are different types of warlock magic depending on the patron granting access to it," he explained, picking his own chalk and starting a list, "Demon magic from the hells, and necromantic magic from the abyss, are the two most documented..." both the hells and the abyss were seen as outside the heavenly planes, segments of the 'outer planes.'

Rasnah's nose crinkled in disgust at both examples. They were not new to her, but she hadn't known they could be identified by residual spell effects alone. Needing to make sure everything stayed clear, she recited what they both knew, "Demon magic is granted by patrons only interested in collecting souls. It can cut the ties between a person and their god, preventing them from going to the heavenly planes after death. Some accounts even state a Warlock powerful enough can cut off a Cleric or Paladin." it was the most terrifying thing any follower of the gods could imagine, but a close second was... "Necromantic magic raises the dead as undead, trapping and twisting souls in their decaying bodies."

"Do we know what kind of Warlocks we're dealing with?" Branston asked.

She shook her head in frustration, "Are there any other types?"

The Cleric nodded but then contradicted it with a shrug. When Rasnah arched an eyebrow at him, he sighed again, taking up his chalk, "Warlocks get their magic from a patron on the outer planes. Some theories suggest this is where the gods originated and that the beings who dwell there are the parents of our gods. Though 'parent' isn't the right word..." he drew out the names Hengist and Horsa side by side. Rasnah felt her nose crinkle again, a growl slipping out as he drew lines from each name up to a single word, 'law.'

He tapped the word, "Please keep in mind that all of this is theory posed by Mages and philosophers, there is no way of confirming any of it without making a pact ourselves, which obviously isn't an option..." Rasnah nodded curtly and gestured for him to continue. Branston cleared his throat, "In the outer planes exist beings of pure concepts, such as law and order. They embody ALL of the concept, even the parts that seem contradictory. Their children split these contradictions. You have to admit, my dear, that Hengist and Horsa both value law and order, only their execution of the concept contradicts each other."

"Horsa is evil." Rasnah growled.

"I'm not going to argue that, Sir Paladin, but humor me," he managed a smile and tapped the combining word again, "Warlocks make pacts with these sources and communicate with them directly. Such communication in itself is enough to drive them mad, add to the fact that the beings themselves often embody contradiction..."

"Which is why all Warlocks go mad." Rasnah interjected, "Even if they started off with good intentions for the power they gain from the pact, they all eventually end up crazy and dangerous. And most," she underlined the types of warlock magic they did know, "Start off insane..."

"Yes," Branston confirmed, tapping the types of magic as well then drawing a new word below them, 'law,' "Just as an example..." he muttered as he wrote, then louder explained, "Basically there are as many types as there may be beings to make a pact with. Unless these Warlocks have formed a pact we are already familiar with, we have no way of knowing who their patron is."

Rasnah threw her chalk into the tray in frustration, "Damn it, we know so little..."

The classroom door slipped open, and an elderly priest poked his head in before pulling back into the hall, speaking to someone there, "I found her, Sir."

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A young Paladin stepped into the classroom, and Rasnah cleared her expression, becoming the General once again. The knight saluted, and Rasnah nodded for him to continue, "We found where they came from, Sir."

"Ask, and you shall receive." Branston muttered under his breath. But Rasnah had heard the hesitation in her Paladin's voice and narrowed her eyes at the man.

"Swailand, General..."

"Damn." Rasnah slammed her fist on the desk, her unopened books rattling with the force of it. She couldn't hold back the whispered, "Fuck..." her mind racing.

"Uh... Sir?" the Paladin started cautiously then snapped to attention as she glared up at him.

"Go to the Mages Guild, have them send a blanket message to all Hengist Temples, they are to find the Master Monk Veon-Zih, Ally to the Temple, First Class, and have him contact me through mirror as soon as possible."

"Sir!" the Paladin saluted, and just in case, repeated Veon-Zih's name and credentials before hurrying from the room.

"A Horsa province..." Branston sighed, "You think they'll let him in when they won't anyone else from the Temple?"

Rasnah sighed, leaning back on the desk and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, "Veon-Zih has connections everywhere. If anyone can insert themselves into this investigation, it's him." and the only people expressly banned from crossing Horsa's borders were Clerics and Paladins of Hengist. It took kingdom intervention to get such divine representatives across.

Branston took her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake, "I'll see what strings I can pull from my end. Soleil's light shines on all lands."

She managed a weak smile, "Thank you, Branston."

***

The same Paladin who delivered the first message brought the second four hours later. Rasnah ordered him to get dinner for himself and at least six hours of sleep before reporting to her again and made her way to the Mages Guild at a brisk walk, only a step removed from a jog.

The attending Mage at the front desk recognized her rank right away, even if she didn't know Rasnah personally, and stood to escort her to the call room. Rasnah was in enough of a hurry that she almost considered letting the other woman off, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She cleared her throat loudly, taking out her identification papers and tapping them on the table.

The Journeyman Mage had the decency to look ashamed before she resumed her seat, taking Rasnah's papers to confirm her identity and purpose. "My apologies, General..." She muttered for the breach in protocol.

Rasnah wasn't the type to yell or punish on a whim, but she did explain curtly, "These protocols are kept in place for a reason, Journeyman. You above all others should know the capabilities of magic to disguise an individual or take another form,"

"Those spells are very difficult, General, and highly regulated..." the Mage started but stopped at Rasnah's glare,

"And only those capable of both high-level magic and breaking the law would risk impersonating me. Those are exactly the people this protocol is in place to stop." She took back her papers without further admonishing the young woman, who hurried to take her to the call room.

The room was more like a long hall, lined with high-walled stalls. Above each stall's door were set two gems, this late in the evening, nearly all the red gems glowed steadily, mixing with the illuminating white light to tint the walls in pink. At the far end, above the largest stall, the red gem blinked. Rasnah's guide opened the stall door for her, chanting quietly as she did so until the red gem dimmed and the green began to glow in its place.

Within the stall was a single mirror, reaching from Rasnah's waist to just above her head, but the reflection was not her own. Veon-Zih had his eyes closed as he stretched with one arm and scratched his chiseled belly with the other. His already tan skin looked even darker with blotches of dust and dirt from the road. He'd obviously taken Rasnah's request for immediate communication very seriously.

The sight of him couldn't help but make her smile, "Hengist's pure soul, you're filthy, old man."

Veon-Zih scoffed, his eyes still closed as he finished his stretch, "And after I made a point of washing the blood from my knuckles just for you young whippersnapper..." his voice echoed in through the mirror, a reminder that he wasn't actually with her. As if to drive that point home, he said, "If you need me up there, Ras, you could've just sent an order to gate."

Rasnah shook her head, "Except that I actually need you in Swailand. Where are you now?"

Veon-Zih dropped his hands, "Halakon. Why Swailand?" Rasnah arched an eyebrow at the Monk, momentarily distracted by personal concerns for her old friend.

She resisted the urge to ask him about what had taken him to the desert province and instead stated, "Well, that explains the dust." before continuing with the matter at hand, "We have a lead on the Warlocks. The corpses originated in..."

"Corpses?" Veon-Zih interrupted.

Rasnah sighed. In her rush to continue the investigation, she'd forgotten he didn't already know about the tower, "We've found the Warlocks in Clearhelm, or more accurately, we found some of their bodies, a few of the corpses were still able to be identified after the fire and..."

"Fire?" Veon-Zih shook his head, "Start from the beginning Ras. If you want me to be your eyes and ears in Horsa land, I'll need to know everything."

So Rasnah told him what little they knew about the burning tower, but when she was done, he asked, "Where was it?" which made Rasnah look away. "Ras?"

"Just north of Hamerfoss... Shon was there. He's the one who saved the girl."

"What?!" Veon-Zih shouted, becoming larger in the mirror after stepping closer, "Rasnah, he's fifteen, what in all the hells was he..."

"He's a Sorcerer." Rasnah interrupted, and Veon-Zih's jaw dropped.

He swallowed, then -just as she feared- he nodded, "I'm coming up there, send orders for a gate."

"No, I need you in Swailand. We are taking care of Shon."

"I know how the government takes care of Sorcerers, General." he spat, "I'm coming up there. I might not keep money on hand, but I have enough favors I can cash in. I won't let them seal his ki. He can get his clearance and..."

"We are not going to give him the tattoo." Rasnah shouted over him, then continued calmly, "And he isn't leaving Hamerfoss." Veon-Zih arched a disbelieving eyebrow, and Rasnah rolled her eyes, "I can't tell if you're mocking me or genuinely don't believe me. The Temple is vouching for Shon so he can get a sealing item instead of a tattoo. It will block the ice magic but allow him to cast divine spells after he takes his Oath. We are taking care of him, V, and I need you in Swailand. If Horsa tries to take over our investigation I'll be left in the dark up here."

Veon-Zih sighed, leaning forward to rest his hand beside the mirror on his end. He rubbed his face and over his head with his free hand, still torn. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper, "Did he hurt anyone?"

"Hamerfoss has no less than forty-two men capable of healing all but the most deadly wounds..."

"Rasnah. Please?" Sorcerers rarely woke without some collateral damage.

"He was sparring with a fellow and froze his feet to the ground. The boy broke an ankle and suffered minor frostbite; both were healed the same night." Rasnah answered, trying to stay detached from the issue. Veon-Zih was already invested enough for both of them.

"I should have suspected... he's always been so cold." But ice was also incredibly rare. The cold of those who possessed that element made it difficult to find willing partners to carry on their bloodline. Instead, it passed through siblings and cousins who didn't manifest until it finally did many generations later.

"Shon is fine, Master Veon-Zih," Rasnah spoke quietly, waiting for her friend to meet her eyes before she continued, "he is one of the best Squires we've ever had, and we will not let him go so easily. I'll have you brought up here by gate as soon as possible. As soon as you're done in Swailand. I need you there, my friend."

Veon-Zih stood straight again and rolled his shoulders back with another sigh, "Let me get a shower, and I'll head out tonight."

"Would you like a horse?" Rasnah forced a smirk to try and lighten the mood, glad when Veon-Zih returned the smile.

"First you offer to get me up there faster, then you threaten to slow me down? General Rasnah, I thought you wanted to stay involved in this investigation?"

Rasnah snickered but continued on topic, "Branston has already contacted the Abbot of the Church in Sanoloa," the capital of Swailand, "I will have the reports and orders delivered to you with a gate to the closest Hengist-controlled Guild, after your, much needed, shower."