The streets of Olise were bustling with activity like they always were, as Folker tried to make his way through the amassed crowds. The city of sorcerers was a place where people all over the world converged. It was the magical centre of the world after all. The large tower houses of Olise housed more than a hundred sorcerers, a magical concentration unmatched anywhere else in the world. In these tower houses ground-breaking magical discoveries were made, and the highest quality of magical goods and services were offered, attracting visitors from as far as Norden in the North and Sodonia in the south. This population of sorcerers combined with the Academy overlooking the city from its Capital Hill, is what makes this city in the east of Spiria a virtual metropolis.
This was also the main reason Folker despised returning to Olise. The slow moving mob of people always reduced him to apathy while he slowly trudged along with them, and the noise made him weary and irritable. He was too old for Olise he thought. When he came here for the first time as a boy, the people and their cacophony had filled him with wonder, now Folker looked at the third swindler trying to sell him magical healing stones in the same disinterested way one would look at an unpainted wall. He did not even notice the woman, claiming that she sold the best pork this side of the Ado, even though she yelled loud enough to make the dead stir. Knowing the city as long as Folker had, he did have some short cuts up his sleeve and he took a quick turn into a side street which led him away from the worst crowdedness.
Folker hoped to continue swiftly now, but he was stopped by the depressing sight of a funeral procession blocking his way. A crying widow and her young children walked at the head, followed by more people, and the coffin of the unfortunate dead man himself. A member of the weavers guild Folker saw, as the men carrying the coffin wore the emblem of the organisation, a white sheep on a red and yellow checkered background.
As he watched the mourning mass pass Folker was reminded of his own grave in the cemetery of Morgenburg. Each Witch Hunter had to dig his own to complete their training, a symbol of their acceptance of death. Most would never lie in it however. Witch Hunters died in the wild not at home. If they were buried at all it would most likely be where they died. Folker hoped he would be an exception. From what he remembered he had chosen a lovely spot.
When the procession had passed, Folker kept going until he reached the tall tower house of the sorcerer Adrian de Wal. As usual several students from the academy were gathered in front of the door of the old lecturer, begging to ask questions about the undoubtedly complex course material de Wal taught. Folker walked passed the students and approached the door. Though it appeared to be of simple ash, Folker knew it was magically sealed and fortified. Folker knocked five times with the iron door knock and immediately was met with the old annoyed voice of De Wal coming from the ape-faced gargoyle that sat hunched above the door.
“For the last time! I do not take questions outside of the lectures! Leave me be!” the gargoyle said
“This is no way to greet your friends Adrian.” Folker said
“Friends? Wha- Folker is that you?”
“It is. Now if you’re kind enough to let me in I promise I won’t ask you any questions about whatever it is that you teach.”
“Yes of course, close the door behind you before any of those bootlickers can get in.”
The doors opened and as quickly as Folker entered they closed again.
Adrian de Wal’s tower was not like other sorcerers’ homes, the interior was mostly made of wood instead of stone and on every wall there hung several paintings. Folker, who had visited the old wizard many times, recognized almost all of them now as he ascended up the steps. Another curious thing about De Wal was that all of the paintings on his walls were made of genuine paint. Magical paint was all the rage these days but Adrian thought that the changing colours and scenery were confusing, and that the sorcerer artists were pretentious. Folker followed the steps all the way up to Adrian’s study where he found the old professor with a dinner plate on his desk in front of him instead of an old scroll or book.
“You’ve come just in time.” Adrian said with a smile. “Lucia is just busy in the kitchen.”
Folker laughed. “The sun hasn’t even set yet. Age may not show in your face but your habits betray you friend.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The 334 years of age truly did not show on Adrian’s face, there were slight traces of grey in his short hair and beard and there was a lot of wisdom in his brown eyes yet he looked no older than forty.
“Sunset or sunup, when a man is hungry he deserves to eat, now sit down and maybe Lucia will be kind enough to give you a plate as well.”
“Fair enough.”
Folker sat down opposite Adrian and while they waited for their food, Folker and his old friend talked about all the regular things. Folker talked about the goings on in the world and the rumours of the road, with Adrian taking special interest in the discovery of an old dwarven ruin in southern Maeckt near Farenburg. While Adrian related stories about the hectic life at the Academy and the never-ending stream of questions of his students.
“Just when you think there is enough stupidity at this school, Aleksander Frezer comes by and gives a guest lecture about the role of sorcerers in society.” Adrian said. “It is a scandal Hover even lets him on the premises anymore.”
“The great uncle of an emperor can get away with a lot of things.” Folker said.
“Agreed, but the things he’s saying are getting more blasphemous by the decade, he wants to place wizards on thrones, legalize just about every forbidden art. Hell if I said the same things him and Avenor have been spouting for the past years they would have sent you to take my head off long ago.”
“Maybe the Order doesn’t think he’s dangerous.”
“You know just as well as I do that the only reason that he’s not in chains yet is because him and his friend Avenor have a seat on the Council. You remember what happened after Ulisch was arrested, locking up council members is more trouble than it’s worth the Order seems to think now.”
“Well let’s say Frezer does try to put a sorcerer on a throne somewhere, the whole world would turn on him in an instant, the Treaty of Olise is basically a holy document. Me and my brothers would have him in a cell within a month.”
“You have a lot of trust in the Order and the Fellowship.”
“I am a Witch Hunter it is what I was trained to have.”
“You hide behind your training too much Folker, I know you’re smarter than that, but we can change the subject if you like, you’re clearly not interested in engaging with me in it, all I am saying is that Frezer should be dealt with before he gains more followers. Ah dinner has arrived!”
Adrian’s maid Lucia came into the room carrying two bowls of steaming tomato soup and a basket of freshly baked bread. A simple dinner but the smell emanating from it was delicious and both Adrian and Folker gulped it down with great pleasure. As they were eating the conversation continued, this time it once again turned to the recently discovered dwarven ruin. Adrian, Folker knew, had a long standing fascination with the dwarffolk of Haggrum and had visited the realm many times. His main interest was in their art of runesmithing, something Adrian himself would have loved to have learned if he was allowed to do so, alas the dwarves are very secretive of their impressive craftsmanship. Folker told Adrian all he knew of the excavations and then they discussed what might be found in the ruins, artefacts, maps, lost magics that sort of thing. It had been a while since a ruin was discovered so there was enough to be excited about. After they finished their dinner, Lucia brought them two glasses of fine Spirian red wine from the Modwina region. They sat in silence for a while appreciating the full taste of their beverage. Folker finally decided to break the silence.
“There is something that has been troubling my mind of late Adrian.” Folker said. “My last time in the wild. There was a girl, a halfblood like me. Her parents had hidden her away in a Maecktian monastery, as if she were some shame. Secluded there she slowly became filled with rage. A daemon took hold of her and she unleashed her anger on the priestesses. She killed them all, slashed them to pieces. Yet when I came upon her I was not greeted by the voice of a daemon it was just her, she knew what she was doing when she slaughtered the sisters and she told me so herself before I slew her.” Folker paused. “Adrian, I know drinking from the Waters is deadly but left to their own devices these children are a danger to themselves and others and if sorcerers keep abandoning them in the wild more people will die. Please Adrian, tell the Order about this and convince them to take action, you can make them see reason.”
“I sympathise Folker I really do.” Adrian said gravely. “But you overestimate the influence I have, maybe fifty years ago when my Loretta was still on the Council could I have made a difference for you but now I am afraid anything I put forward will fall on deaf ears.”
“There’s a new conference coming, I know this, it may not have been announced yet but I’ve heard the murmurs. Please Adrian, for an old friend, tell your peers. You would take a great weight off my heart.”
“Alright, I’ll do as you wish but I am afraid I can make no guarantees.”
“That they know is enough.”
Folker and Adrian sat in silence drinking their wine for a while and then came the time for Folker to take his leave. He thanked his old friend for the hospitality and wished him good luck with his students. Adrian remarked he never had luck with any of them and with those words they parted.
As Folker left the tower for the cool Olisian night, he saw that a sleeping student was still laying on Adrian’s doorstep. Exams must be particularly tough this year, Folker thought as he passed her and he made his way through the now empty streets to his humble quarters at the academy. After finally climbing the long stairs up the Capital Hill and crossing the Academy’s courtyard Folker was home. As he had expected, an owl was sitting in front of his door with a new task for him. He took the scroll from its claws and send it on its way. Folker then packed his travelling gear to leave at dawn and went to bed to sleep a dreamless sleep.