“So you almost got arrested?” Alina said, staring at me dryly.

“Yes,” I sighed, “But it wasn’t my fault.”

Alina looked at me with a long-suffering expression. Lord Balar was merely stroking his beard in a most unhelpful manner as he stared somewhat distantly into space.

While talking to both of them was nice, I admit I wished it was under better circumstances.

“This smell,” Lord Balar said, “You said you smelled it when you found me with that atrocious dagger in my back?”

“Yes,” I nodded tiredly, “That’s why I followed it.”

“Then I suppose somehow you must have been somehow smelling Black Magic,” Lord Balar said slowly, though he looked rather apprehensive.

“That’s what I thought,” I shrugged, “But I still have no idea what Black Magic is.”

Lord Balar nodded his expression unchanging, “I’m not surprised. I know you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the library, but the records of the Black Mages are sparse to begin with. They were regarded with some level of fear and suspicion.”

“But why?”

Lord Balar rubbed his forehead, looking somewhat nervous, “Well, simply put, Black Magic is considered the opposite of White Magic. Where White Magic can heal and strengthen, Black Magic destroys and weakens. Black Mages were feared and regarded with suspicion, especially because there were rumors that Black Mages could control the spirits of the Dead. Black Mages themselves would sometimes travel by themselves and sometimes with White Mages. What did they do exactly? Well, they never truly talked about their purpose, or at least if they did, it’s not written down anywhere I can find it.”

“And what actually happened to them?” I asked.

“Well, they disappeared just as the White Mages did, and while there are some known remaining White Mages, I have heard nothing of any remaining Black Mages. The only thing that was left were some artifacts, which is what I thought that dagger was.”

“Right,” I nodded my head, “Wait, you thought?” I frowned at Lord Balar; what do you mean, you thought?

Lord Balar looked down at the untouched bottle of ale he was holding somewhat carelessly as he sat in one of his plush armchairs.

“There is some evidence that has been revealed in our meetings that there may be a Black Mage within the city. One we believe was the original poisoner of the King and also my likely attempted assassin.”

“How could you know that?”

Alina grimaced, “The Kingdom has spies called the Ravens. They have heard seemingly nothing about Imperial Assassins. To manage to poison the King with his level of protection should be nearly impossible, but we heard tales of a shadow that seemed to move by itself. It’s a known skill for Black Mages to disappear as if they were made of such.”

I blinked, taking in Lord Balar’s words, “Should you be telling me this?”

I don’t know why those were my first words but after all the secrecy…

Lord Balar gave me a grim smile, “Lady Dellar and I were both asked to keep the strictest confidence, but here, I don’t believe there is any other choice. You’re the only person capable of healing anyone the Black Mage attacks.”

I took a deep breath, mind swirling, attempting to process the information before I felt a cool, soothing presence seep through my mind.

‘Thanks, Sara.’ I thought and felt a gentle warmth surge through me.

Black Mages are friends. Worked with children. Protected and nurtured together.

Those were the first words I had heard from her in a while, and strange ones at that, considering everything I had heard so far. Yet wouldn’t Sara know more than anyone else, given how intimately familiar she was with the White Mages? Sara should know at least bits and pieces of what the White Mages had known.

There was a disconnect here, yet I had a feeling it could only be answered by a Black Mage. Unfortunately, the only one I knew about at the moment, or at least the potential for one, was one who had poisoned the King and stuck a dagger in Lord Balar’s back.

Still, the question was how I should proceed; in some ways, this wasn’t my problem. It really wasn’t. I had to help heal Sara. Whatever this Black Mage thing was, it wasn’t my problem.

I looked at Lord Balar and Alina, but the words would not leave my lips.

“I’ll do what I can, but my priority needs to be that person I mentioned,” I looked meaningfully at Lord Balar, who frowned a little bit but nodded regardless.

“I understand,” he nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something,” Alina said, who had remained silent to this point.

Oh. I hadn’t mentioned that, had I?

I turned to Alina, raising my hands, trying to communicate something, though I didn’t know what, “There’s a person back in the Great Forest who needs my help.

“Who?” Alina looked confused, “Are there more White Mages still in the forest?”

I shook my head, thinking rapidly, “No, there’s not. They’re not a White Mage, but they took care of me..”

I tried to put every one of the compressed feelings I could in those words. I couldn’t even really explain it to myself, but despite some odd feelings about calling her my Mother in many ways, Sara really was, or at least the Mother of my life here.

“Right,” Alina nodded slowly, “So what kind of help do you need?”

“Well…” I waffled slightly before I threw caution to the wind, “Lord Balar is helping me find other White Mages to help heal them.”

“Other White Mages? Wait, you don’t mean,” Alina’s eyes widened, “No, you can’t-“

“It’s not like that!” I interrupted, raising my hands, trying to calm her, “I’m not going to join the Empire. I’m trying to find any other White Mages that don’t serve them.”

Alina looked at Lord Balar, who nodded; she turned back, looking slightly abashed, “Right. I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t join them.”

There was a lot of meaning in the look we shared, but it was nice to see she had some faith in me. I wasn’t sure I had the same level of faith.

“I’ve been spending some time in the records,” Lord Balar said suddenly in a seeming non sequitur, “And I believe I’m on to something.”

I turned and looked at him, confused at his sudden words.

Lord Balar seemed to hesitate before seemingly barreling ahead, “If there are other White Mages, they’ve kept quite the cover, but I had the thought that if they did exist and were anywhere near other people, it was a possibility that their rates of illness and sickness would be far less.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Right,” I said, nodding slowly.

“There’s a province that’s rates of illness and even death by injury have been low for the last seventy or so years. It hasn’t really attracted much attention from our governance, but that’s because the reports that are filed are filed every year at our busiest time and don’t receive much scrutiny. I need to do more research, but I believe it’s possible there is a White Mage there.”

“Right,” I nodded again, suppressing a faint feeling of hope.

“Still,” Lord Balar sighed, “ I need more time as it keeps getting cut short by these meetings. I promise, though, I will finish as soon as I can.”

“It’s okay,” I said, “I believe you.”

Alina looked between me and Lord Balar, “Is there anything I can do to help?? She asked suddenly.

“Alina, you don’t have to,” Alina raised a hand, stopping my words in their tracks.

“It’s not about having to; if you need help, I’ll help.”

Lord Balar's beard rustled as he looked between us, looking somewhat confused.

“I see,” he said very clearly, having no idea what he was seeing, “Well, I won’t say no to more help. Perhaps after our meeting tomorrow concludes, we can go to the records together.”

Alina blinked before sighing, her expression taking on a somewhat crestfallen look, “You’re right. I had completely forgotten we had another meeting.”

Lord Balar chuckled and finally opened his beer, “Ah, don’t be so down. Trust me, you wouldn’t prefer meetings of the Dwarven guilds.”

Alina winced but nodded Lord Balar’s point.

Confused, I looked at Lord Balar. “What do you mean?”

Lord Balar looked confused for a moment, his eyes widening before he chuckled heartily, “Well, you see, Dwarves like settling our matters quickly, so when we reach an impasse, we have a tradition where we simply issue a challenge of skill. Whoever wins gets their way.”

“Skill? So what like making an item?”

Alina sighed, shaking her head, “If you’re lucky. Oftentimes, they bash each other to pieces in a fight, and whoever’s still conscious wins.”

My eyes widened, and I stared at Lord Balar incredulously, “You’re not serious. That can’t lead to the best solution.”

Lord Balar laughed heartily, “Aye, sometimes not, but it is quicker. Stone sharpens stone and all that.”

“So this elf,” I turned the conversation back to our first topic of conversation, “What should I do about her.”

Lord Balar stroked his beard, “For now, nothing. I’ll speak to some people and get some new information. We don’t know enough for now to take any real action.”

Alina nodded and continued, “Just whatever you do. If you encounter her again, don’t aggravate her. From what you’ve described, she’s part of the King’s Guard, and if you give her reason, she’ll arrest you.”

“Relax,” I waved my hands in a soothing manner, “Her boss told her to let me go.”

Alina frowned, looking serious, “I know. Something about you attracted her attention in the first place, though. She still may not let it drop. Not to mention you smelled the Black Magic near her.”

“Right,” I nodded, “Consider me the definition of careful.”

_-_

Once again, I found myself killing time on the streets of Haven. I had spent earlier that day in the midst of the pages on a treaty on the economic ties between the Dwarven holds built into the Eastern Mountains and the Kingdom of Glass.

Suffice it to say there was a reason I was outside rather than still reading that book.

The hustle and bustle of Haven flowed against my senses as I wandered the streets. The buildings were gleaming smooth stone and clear glass that gleamed gold in the morning light. Wares and food were hawked, and the clang of stone and metal echoed intermixed with the faint strains of music from an Elven flute player who played a sweet yet sorrowful melody that had some people bursting into tears as the air itself gleamed and shimmered with strange light.

I was somewhat tempted by some of the pastries I saw, but even with the moderate amount of coin Lord Balar had given me, I didn’t think it was a worthwhile purchase. It was hard to justify eating sometimes when I knew I didn’t need to; it was almost like a waste of the other person's time to consume what they worked so hard to make for no purpose. However, that didn’t stop me from giving them long glances, tempted by the crispy, sweet outsides glazed with something yellow.

Still, my attention ended up being drawn more to the smithies. There was something fascinating looking at the crafters. The green magic flashes would shape metal to something silver and gleaming, glittering like glass in the sun, yet not see-through like glass should be.

I observed an elven woman singing to a length of wood that shifted and swelled under the depth of her song until the shape of a long bow emerged, which she strung with a swift and simple motion, the bow bending with ease.

A broad human man with long tied black hair held a ball of flickering flames, which he would blow onto a rotating skewer of meat, occasionally cutting off strips to pass to other citizens who would pass him coinage in return.

The energy I could feel among these people was almost choking. The very life present generated so much more energy than I had felt from nature, where I had last focused on the external life around me.

“You again,” the stern words drew me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Tol holding a crate of what looked like half-smelted metal items.

“Me,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at Tol.

We locked eyes for a couple of moments before Tol snorted and turned away.

I weighed my options. Follow a grumpy dwarf who seemed to not like me or keep walking bored out of my gourd.

I followed him.

I was really bored.

“Working on something new?” I asked him.

“Define new,” Tol snorted.

I shrugged, “Just wondering on what you’re trying to make.”

We walked in silence for a couple more steps, and I was almost sure Tol was about to punch me, but to my surprise, he responded, “A Stone Mender.”

“A what?” I looked at Tol, confused.

Tol sighed, though he made even that sound grumpy, “A Stone Mender. You see these buildings, they’re all made of Stone, yet somehow it looks like one piece, yes?”

I looked at the buildings, eyeing their smooth, gleaming sides, “Uh yeah.”

“A Stone Mender joins two pieces of stone into one structure like there was never any break in the first place. It makes for a strong building material. Incredibly hard to fracture.”

“I see,” well, I mean, it wasn’t that tough of a concept.

We walked for a while, trailing through the city. The silence was uncomfortable at first but seemed to ease slightly as we walked, and I wondered if continued exposure was lessening the effect of his demeanor on me.

I was about to question Tol further before I smelled the cold, empty smell again. I paused for a moment before I kept walking. It was probably just the elf who had been stalking me before. If she didn’t have anything better to do than stalk me, I would just be the most boring person who had ever been stalked.

My resolution lasted for several feet until I realized that the smell was getting stronger. Despite myself, I turned my head slightly about attempting to figure out where exactly Lieutenant Ilsa was. I knew I was looking for that patch of slightly unreal against my surroundings, but no matter how much I looked, I couldn’t find anything.

“What’s got you bothered?” Tol asked gruffly, and I turned to see he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing, “ I replied too quickly.

Tol groaned, “Yes, very believable. What is it?”

Well, if that didn’t work, I would rely on deflection, “I didn’t think you would care.”

“I don’t,” Tol replied quickly.

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Tol eyed me strangely but then shook his head, and we continued walking.

The smell grew stronger, though, as we walked, and despite my commitment to ignoring the smell, its edges scratched against my mind the more I tried to ignore it. Was it just me, or did it smell different? More pungent?

We walked further, and soon, it almost felt like the smell was all around me. I realized we had walked underneath an overhanging bridge that led to a grand circular tower. I turned to my left and felt like I had been walloped by an overpowering cold abyss that seemed to seep into my brain. Unconsciously, I stepped forward under the archway into the tower to be greeted by a room of pillars supporting the structure above it.

“Where in the Roots are you going?” Tol had followed me and was looking about confused.

“I-“ Whatever explanation I had was interrupted by a sharp crack.

I looked at the center of the room where the sound originated and where a giant crack had emerged on the pillar, splitting it in half into a dark, gleaming black vein. I spun at another crack and saw another pillar with somehow the same crack.

“Get out of here!” I shouted at Tol. He blinked and then turned to run.

The world erupted.

I came to with the weight of what felt like a building on my shoulders. As I stumbled more into conscience, I realized there may be more truth to that feeling than I had given credit.

Grey stone rested on my shoulders, and my hands were pressed against the same stone above me.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to near the pitch black. I was in a small compressed cavity holding the rock above me. Laying flat on his back below me, still clutching his crate, was Tol, who was looking at me with gleaming brown eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.

We stared at each other for a tense moment.

“What happened?” Tol said before breaking into a coughing wheeze.

I wanted to shrug, but I dared not disturb the pressing weight down on me, “Explosion, I think.”

Tol looked at me bewildered, “An explosion?” he said slowly.

“I think,” I added, frantically trying to think of something to do.

Yet, as much as I thought there was nothing I could do. I was holding who knew how much rock over my head and couldn’t let it go for fear that Tol would be buried. I was reasonably sure I would be alright, but Tol and whoever was above the rock would be in serious trouble.

“Can you move?” I asked him.

Tol frowned and shifted about till he managed to sit up, setting his crate to the side.

“I can, but not much, what in the First Blaze happened?”

“I don’t know,” I shook my head, “There was something…”

That hadn’t been the Lieutenant Ilsa. It had been Black Magic but something stronger. Something imbedded into the pillar.

I had fallen right into a trap.

This was my fault.