Theo ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it the best he could before stepping off the island. He slipped through the space between worlds like a ghost, only briefly flashing over the Bridge. That shadowy world was once again filled with conflict, a signal that Fenian was drawing closer. While it was an assumption, the alchemist figured it was a good one.

Stepping as though it was normal, Theo appeared in the meeting room of the town hall. Tresk offered a simple wave, while both Alise and Alran shrieked. The alchemist didn’t break his stride, coming to rest the head chair. He stirred his tea, grabbed some Zee flatbread, and regarded those gathered before him. With plenty of time to consider the meeting, he presented a cold exterior. On the inside, excitement buzzed for his magical progress. Benton had insights, after all.

“We’re here to put old things behind us,” he said. “If you haven’t left your feelings at the door, then leave.”

The Archduke’s eyes were locked on Alise. He didn’t blame her for the problems with Rivers. Those sins fell on Alran, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Like a good spy, he was concerned about his situation. There was nothing worse than lacking information when you were in the business.

“I’ve brought nothing but good intentions,” Alran said.

“As have I,” Alise said. “I’m ready to settle this misunderstanding.”

“Right,” Theo said. Benton said they would be more hostile to his intentions. The alchemist made a mental note about the bear-god.

“So, Alran is a dirtbag who hid his stock of gold and food,” Tresk said, setting the table the way only an assassin could. “Alise is a hot-head with a mean temper. Dirtbag gives up his seat, dissolves the Chairs. Hot-head goes home to her lover. We’re all happy.”

Theo cleared his throat. That was the breadth of their conversation today. Put so simply, it sounded silly. But there were more subtle things in motion there.

“And Alran gets our support as a Spymaster,” Theo said. “Which god gave you cores to do the spying?”

Alran shifted uncomfortably again. He might have been a smart man, under all that fat and bluster, but he wasn’t smart enough to spy from such a great distance. Even with agents, the task would be too much. From experience, Theo knew spies were the first ones to jump ship when things got too hot. His mind spun out ideas, ranging from autonomous constructs to flying, drone-like creations.

“Well, you’ve got me by the tail,” Alran said.

“Wasn’t Fan’glir or Zagmon. They’re dead,” Theo said.

“You can’t really kill a god,” Arlan said.

“Ulvoqor,” Theo said, nodding to himself. “Good, he’s an ally.”

“Perhaps you should be the spymaster,” Alran said.

“I’m too busy.”

But it was obvious. Ulvuqor represented knowledge in the Prime Pantheon. Most considered them a neutral god, and the concepts represented lined up with spy craft. There was also the chance it was a specialized core, designed specifically for the task. How the head of a merchant organization got ahold of the core was a mystery, but the motivation was not. The core would make deals effortless. Updated prices across the globe, the sudden shift of the wind at his fingertips…

“[Ulvuqor Spy’s Core]. There. Simple as that,” Alran said. “I can view through the eyes of any agent without detection, enhancing their stealth abilities at will.”

“Didn’t expect that,” Theo said, leaning in over the table. He took tentative bites of the flat bread, washing it down with tea. “Well, that settles it. Doesn’t it?”

“I’m not sure it does,” Alise said, drumming her fingers on the table. “We need to solidify his position in the nation. Give him a title, a contract, and so on.”

“You’re willing to dissolve the Chairs?” Theo asked.

“I’m prepared to do so,” Alran said. “I’ve been watching my allies closely. And I’ve come to realize something.”

“That you’re super weak and stupid?” Tresk asked, laughing.

“Weak, not stupid,” Alran corrected. “Smart, I’d like to think. Only a smart man would bow when he knows he’d be bested before the fight started. You were planning to… remove me from my position by force.”

“We were,” Theo said, nodding. “Which means you have agents in my town. That’s fine. First, tell me everything you know about the war. Both of them.”

Alran finally brightened up. He threw his shoulders back and his eyes shimmered with a pale silver light. “Veosta has retreated beyond the spine. They’re having trouble holding back the tide. Karasan is missing from Qavell, and the undead have pushed to their gates. The surprise is that there are interlopers on Iaredin. Masked soldiers my spies don’t recognize, conducting hit-and-run tactics in the sea. Hamstringing fleets from Tarantham.”

That was to be expected. Theo didn’t know who would want to attack the Elves, but it didn’t matter. Karasan being missing lined up. He was likely fighting with Fenian in the heavens. Why they fought was beyond the alchemist, but that hardly mattered. It was nice to know that the spine was holding, leaving the Veostians alive for a time. He wanted to trade with them, if there was anything left of their nation at the end of the war.

“Any spies in the Khahari desert?” Theo asked.

“A few,” Alran said. “Nothing interesting there, I assure you. Khahar ascended, taking several million of his people with him. What remains are custodians. The southern islands are sending a small trade fleet north. They’ve gotten word we have a port to trade. Partopour also has a single scout vessel coming, as does Bantein.”

“Seems like you could have told us that,” Alise said, trying not to fume.

“I was gathering information, double-checking everything before bringing it to the Archduke’s attention,” Alran said.

There were several times Theo had reported information before getting the whole picture. The crater that was once Berlin flashed in his mind for a single moment, but it vanished before it could take hold. Alran was more clever than he thought. Farseeing abilities like these would be useful. Not just useful. Vital.

“That’s an impressive network of informants you’ve gathered,” Theo said.

Alran swelled at the compliment. “Decades of work.”

“Let’s set the terms of the contract,” Theo said. “You use your abilities to better the nation, dissolve the chairs, and offer a decent Duke or Duchess. You’ll promise never to harm our people directly, give away information, and so on.”

“What do I get?” Alran asked.

“The full support of the nation,” Alise said. “As our official spy master. Access to our resources. Our port. A potential for you to spread your web tighter over the globe. Your spies don’t work for free, do they?”

“They’re indebted,” Alran said, offering a grim smile. “But those terms are more than agreeable. I’ve been eager to shake off the mantle of Chair for some time. I have no love for the Merchant Chairs. No love for Rivers and Daub—not that you should tell anyone that.”

“He has a love for his craft,” Tresk said, nodding with approval. She climbed on the table, crawling across to poke a finger in the spy’s chest. “I like that.”

“Me, too,” Theo said. He went into his administration interface. It was hard to find Alran’s name. He had to select the option labeled ‘Rivers and Daub’ to find the man. “You want ‘Spymaster’ or ‘Lord Spymaster’?”

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Alran rubbed his hands together. “I’d like the one with ‘lord’ in the title, please.”

Theo made it so, closing the interface to draw up the contract. They went back-and-forth on the matter, changing things to suit the needs of both towns. Everyone was glad with an absurdly verbose contract, binding each party to specific needs. When the tension in the room cleared, they sat and ate breakfast.

This was the first time Theo had spoken to Alran about things other than their towns. The Spymaster was eager to share tales of his journeys. Before he’d settled down as a Merchant Chair, he was an adventurer. With several cores, all related to stealth, he’d traveled the world and made his fortune. After gaining his spy core, he settled down and pushed things from afar.

“My plans changed when Theo took over Broken Tusk. They changed again when you mentioned a position as a spy,” Alran said. He sipped his tea with grace, bringing the cup to his lips and slurping politely.

“How many backup plans did you have?” Theo asked. “For if we didn’t work with you.”

“He really was like me, wasn’t he?” Alran asked, looking for sympathetic responses from both Tresk and Alise. The Marshling nodded excitedly while the Lady Administrator gave a curt nod. “Four plans. Including this.”

The Spymaster withdrew something from nowhere, placing it down on the table. It looked like a jumble of artifices duct-taped together. They surrounded a pulsing core. Radiating an energy of pure chaos, the item vibrated on the table. Alran stored it back in his inventory, chuckling.

“That would have split a hole in the realm. Allowed me to jump onto the Bridge and get out of here. Some sunny beach in the Khahari Desert,” Arlan said. There was a tone of pride in his voice, and Theo wouldn’t blame him. Splitting reality like that wouldn’t have been easy.

“But the path on the other side would have been dangerous,” Theo said.

The meeting had gone on long enough. One mention of the Bridge and his mind darted back to his injured friend. Xol’sa, resting in his tower. Waiting for someone to come up with a solution for his illness. Theo withdrew the potion he’d crafted from his inventory, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. Ignoring the questions of his staff, he inspected it.

[Reforge Soul]

[Potion]

Legendary

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Good Quality

Alignment:

Drogramath (Middling Bond)

Imbibing this potion reforges a mortal’s soul. The process is extremely painful, but all impurities, imperfections, and scars are cleansed.

“That looks expensive,” Alran said, leaning to get a better look.

Instead of pulling it back, Theo held it out for the man to inspect. The Spymaster let out a whistle, shaking his head.

“You couldn’t even put a price on this,” Theo said, staring into the silver substance. It was more opaque than his normal potions, holding flecks of both red and silver powder. It caught the light from the window, glinting in the sun. “Or this one.”

The alchemist withdrew another potion for the group to inspect. While the [Reforge Soul] potion was made with the [Primal Soul] and [Primal Searing Regeneration], this was the failed attempt using [Primal Rejuvenation] and [Primal Soul].

[Cleanse Soul]

[Potion]

Legendary

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Good Quality

Alignment:

Drogramath (Middling Bond)

Imbibing this potion removes the yearly requirement for soul-forging tasks. This potion may only be drunk once per season (70 days).

“I don’t even know what soul-forging is,” Theo said. “Is that like core forging?”

“Never heard of it,” Alran said, shrugging.

“Don’t look at me,” Tresk said, crossing her arms. “Does it make me stab better? No? I don’t care.”

“Archduke, you could scour the world asking for coin for those potions,” Alran said. “And you would find not a soul willing to give you a price.”

“Priceless potions,” Alise said with a nod. “Well, Spymaster, I just wanted to say… I’m very happy that we’ve come to an agreement, and I apologize for yelling at you.”

“It was good fun,” Alran said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is a calling for me. Something like you’d never believe. I can serve with my passion. How many people can say that?”

“To the Southlands Alliance,” Theo said, holding his teacup in salute. The others joined, and they drained the moss tea away.

Theo nodded for Tresk to join him, leaving Alran and Alise to mend fences. He’d steered them both in the right direction, but now it was up to them to finish the job. As their leader, he needed to find that balance between telling people what to do and putting them in the right direction. Too firm a hand led to folks relying on him for everything. Too gentle, and he’d find himself with rogue factions within his nation. It was a fact he wasn’t ready to face, but time wouldn’t wait for him. His confidence was bolstered beyond anything possible before thanks to Tero’gal. Twelve hours of reflection a day did wonders for him.

Could you prepare a group of adventurers. I need to go to Xol’sa’s tower, Theo said, using their communication skill.

Tresk saluted and disappeared, leaving Theo in the town hall. There were crowds forming below. The junior administrators were handling requests from citizens. Getting them on paper and shuffling those words off to whoever needed to hear them. He even spotted some people who weren’t from town. This was the center of the alliance, so that made sense.

Theo made his way out of the town hall and onto the street. He took a breath of the stifling morning air, thanking the sparse trees overhead for their cover. The heat of the day was ramping up, something the Season of Fire would make worse by the day. He walked to Zarali’s place, not surprised to see her working on something within. He could feel the presence of the enchantments, even read some of the script. The alchemist should have told her he’d found a cure earlier. She was trying to fix her betrothed with Drogramathi enchantments.

“I figured it out,” Theo said, producing the potion from his inventory.

Zarali looked up from her work. Her eyes were rimmed red. Hurrying over, she inspected the potion. Joy mingled with sorrow as she wept on her brother’s shoulder. Minutes passed before her words became understandable.

“I knew you’d figure it out.”

“Did you?” Theo asked. He stopped himself before going on. It didn’t matter who was right, he had the cure for a failed soul-slaying in his hands. “Right, you did. Tresk is assembling a team of adventurers to escort us to the tower.”

“Thank you, Theo,” Zarali said, pulling him into a tighter hug.

Theo hugged her back, letting out a sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. Xol’sa meant more to her than he first expected, but their bond ran deep.

“I’d lie if I said it wasn’t a fluke,” Theo said. “That bear-god I mentioned was helpful.”

Zarali couldn’t shower enough praise on Theo, but the alchemist had to remind her of the risks. The potion said the process would be ‘extremely painful’, but she promised she could handle it. The priestess had been hiking all the way out to the wizard’s tower daily, taking care of him as he rested. But things were getting worse. The wound, which she expected to close, had widened. Theo didn’t want to share his theories.

The first he had was that Xol’sa wasn’t from this plan. As an extra-planar being, the rules might not apply to him the same. The second theory was that the wound was just that deep, and perhaps his extra-planar nature was the only thing that prevented a true slaying. In the alchemist’s mind, the mention of slaying wasn’t in regard to killing someone. A soul-slaying attack was deeper than that. A strike meant to remove someone from existence entirely. He shook those thoughts away as Tresk sent a mental message.

“We’re ready,” Theo said.

Near the town square, an army of adventurers stood ready. Trainees from Gronro-Dir stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the local adventurers. Aarok and Luras headed the group, standing at attention before an army, 100 strong. At the sight of their Archduke, they saluted, offering different gestures depending on their culture.

“When the Archduke calls,” Aarok started.

“We answer,” the group finished, a thunder of voices that echoed through the town.

Tresk was somewhere nearby, laughing her ass off.

Aarok approached the alchemist, bringing him close with a sly smile. “Just a training exercise. Organization, formations, stuff like that. Tresk said we’re just going to the tower, but you can’t throw these chances away.”

“Understood,” Theo said, letting his eyes linger on the soldiers.

Soldiers. That’s what they were. Arrayed like that on the cobbles of his town. Disciplined peoples, holding no regard for their disparate races. Cultures clashed together like the armor they wore. Elves from Tarantham, clad in their finely crafted scale armors. Dwarves from Gronro, wearing pitted and burned plate armor. Bantari Marshlings and the wayward Half-Ogres, wearing a hodgepodge of whatever they could strap to their bodies. There were even at least two Humans from Rivers.

Aarok and Luras must have been having a blast. When they gave the order to march, the army filed out into distinct columns. They didn’t segment themselves by race, or their hometowns, but by specializations. The stealthers, led by Tresk, went first into the swamp. Then those wearing heavy armor, close-range fighters mostly likely. Then the ranged folks, some holding bows and others throwing weapons.

Bringing up the rear were the only two spellcasters. Theo, representing the only standing wizard in town, and Zarali. A chant of words, exalting Lord Drogramath, and the army moved faster. Her blessing fell over them like a soothing rain, washing away the heat. With unnecessary organization, they forged a way through the swamp. To save their wizard.

“It’s a bit much,” Theo said, leaning in to laugh with Zarali.

“A training exercise, he said,” Zarali giggled. “I think Aarok is worried about our wizard.”

“You can never have too much training,” Luras said, falling back to walk with Theo and Zarali. “Not when an army of bones is knocking on your door.”