Darrik gave Verona a possessive squeeze as they walked off together. For a moment, he thought he saw her shiver under his touch. Darrik snickered to himself. The dumb low-born bitch must want it more then he thought.

Verona spoke up. “I wish you could get along with Mar. He’s my oldest friend.”

Darrik glared. “We talked about this. I don’t want you seeing him, ever. It’s bad for our public image. We’re betrothed now.”

“Yes, I know but-”

“No buts. I’m sorry, but you know how strict my father is on this.” Darrik whispered apologetically, while inside he was grinning. A mage of Verona’s caliber he couldn’t dominate with his magical caliber alone. Oh, he was an excellent combat mage, but even Darrik wasn’t fool enough to think he could take Verona in a straight fight.

Darrik had thought swaying her to his cause would be harder than this, but as it happened growing up as a ward of the state with a single friend had left Verona with virtual no experience in politics and deception. Verona only knew magic. All Darrik had to do was cut her off from her old friends and surround her with his own network. Soon she’d be moving in with him, and then all that destructive power she had at her fingertips would be his to wield. Not only that, but he’d get a fine piece of ass to toy with whenever he wanted. Even if it was tainted by a little elvish blood. For now, he had to play the fiancé card, but once she was deep in his clutches he could drop the title and turn her into little more than a concubine who could kill people for him.

Darrik noticed Verona was still talking.

“—And I miss him a lot. As a friend, I mean. If only he had been born a mage.” Verona complained.

Darrik asked a question with feigned interest. “Why did you become friends with him then, knowing that without magic he was bound to a different destiny?”

“We both thought we were going to be mages. That’s the reason why we were taken in as orphans. When the inquisitors went around testing all the infants for magical ability, both me and Mar broke their scales. According to their tests, both of us had such a high aptitude for magic it would be a waste to let us die or become street rats, so we lived here. On one of the buildings just off this very school.”

“But then what about Mar?” Darrik asked, slightly curious.

“For me, the tests were absolutely right. I hate bragging about it, but I have decent affinities across the elemental spectrum, and my aura can hold nearly thirty spells at any given time.”

Having an aura that could hold thirty spells was considered huge, especially for a seventeen year old mage like Verona. Darrik’s aura could only hold twelve spells at once, and that was considered larger than average for a third order mage.

“So, the tests were wrong?” Darrik frowned. “But the tests are never wrong.”

“They were for Mar.” Verona replied.

“Bah. The kid must have found some way to cheat tests. He probably faked magical abilities so he could get free food and a bed, and eventually a free education.” Darrik had to admit such a scheme would be quite clever. It almost respect Mar. Almost.

“I don’t think so.” Verona said quietly. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Alright, enough about Zar. Flar? Nar? Anyway, enough about him. Just promise me that you won’t make my father break us up by embarrassing me with him.”

Verona didn’t say anything.

“Verona. You know how important this is. With my families backing you could become First Mage. That’s a destiny within your grasp. You could never attain that if my father decided to cast you out for insulting the Pyrastern name. Besides, do you really want to get him involved in the dangerous life of high-level politics? You letting him go is for his own good.”

Verona slowly nodded. “Yes. You’re right. I’ll make it up to him once I’ve claimed the title of First Mage. Once I have my foot in the senate I’ll have to power to protect him.”

“Yes. Of course. Once we’re married you’ll have all the power of the Pyrastern family at your back.”

“Isn’t your cousin the next person in line as head of the family?” Verona questioned.

“Things change my dear.” Darrik was grinning wildly now. It wouldn’t be hard to arrange for his stupid prick of a cousin to get thrown into a duel with Verona, lecherous little creep that he was. With him out of the way, Darrik would have the entire Pyrastern family at his beck and call. Mostly. He’d still have to wait a century or so before his uncle finally keeled over and died, but if he could break into the fourth order of magic and master at least one life extension spell it was very much possible.

Or at least that had been his plan before, but now a new piece had practically fallen into his lap. The Warlock’s Totem. To think that such a powerful object was in the hands of a dirty beastkin druid. And to have it sealed with crystal magic! Repairing the seal might be tricky, but Darrik was confident he could break it without a hitch. With a warlock’s power, he could attain the fifth, sixth, even seventh order of magic. He could become among the most powerful men in the city. Maybe he wouldn’t even need Verona after all. All he’d need to do is bend one pesky spirit fragment to his will. Darrik had bent plenty of people to his will before. How much different could a demon be?

“Alright so you three this time?” Verona asked. Darrik noticed that the three mages he’d hired to help Verona practiced were watching him grin like a madman. He quickly hid his smile with a scowl.

“I’ll be back latter. I need to make arrangements back at my family’s estate.”

“Preparing to help that druid out?” Verona asked.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Darrik hurried back to his family’s estate. He spotted that puppet of his, Roy. Excellent. The easily manipulatable earth mage was paying his respects to his family’s benefactor on a visit with his family. Mar was truly grateful that his uncle had saved that poor and dying noble line. Roy made excellent dumb muscle, though he was a bit too soft for Darrik’s tastes. No matter though, he’d harden up under a few months of Darrik’s training.

Darrik grabbed Roy by his tunic, pulling him away from his mother, who was making small talk with one of Darrik’s less important aunts.

“Hello Roy. I need you.” Darrik said sternly. Roy looked at him with wide eyes and gulped. But he followed. Between his and Roy’s magic, Darrik had no doubt that he could subdue the druid, but brought on two of his uncle’s household guards who he knew to enjoy the extra coin he put in their pockets and knew how to keep their mouths shut.

“So, uh, you want me to trap this girl who’s going to show up here?” Roy asked dumbly.

Darrik rolled his eyes. “Trap her, stab her, toss her underground until she suffocates. She doesn’t matter. It’s the package she’s carrying that I want. Just make sure you get that to me intact.”

“Surely you don’t to ki-kill her?” Roy stuttered nervously. One of the two guards snickered at him.

“Toughen up, Roy. You’re going to have to do worse than this if you want to stay in my family’s good graces. If we took away the mana stones we provide your family to distribute on our behalf, how long do you think it would be before you lost that proud ancestral home that your family has held for generations? Not long, I’ll tell you that. And you know what Roy? It would be your fault. So get your act together and do as I say.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Roy nodded slowly.

Darrik paced a hand on the trembling boys shoulder. “Good man. And don’t worry, you’re just there for back up in case something goes wrong. Odds are all you’re going to have to do is watch. Can you do that for me, Roy?” Darrik asked kindly.

Roy took a deep breath. “Okay. Whatever you say, boss.”

Darrik smiled. “Exactly. Whatever I say. That’s an excellent attitude to have. Now, I’m going to go send a carriage for our guest.”

The arrangements were easy to make. All Darrik had to do was order one of the servants to see it done. That was one of the many benefits of choosing to be born into wealth.

With his duties done for the time being, Darrik was able to seclude himself for a few minutes of privacy. He closed and locked the door to his private bedroom. Once the latch was shut he let the veneer of arrogance and contempt slip off him like distasteful gown soaked in mud and pig shit. His was a hard role to play, but it had to be done.

He knelt down and clasped his hands together in prayer.

“My god, thank you for sending this gift my way. I have sent word to Wolfsdown. My plan will soon be complete, I will finally be able to destroy the abomination known as Mar.”

Like a man ten times his age, Darrik stood up with a groan. He closed his eyes and the familiar distasteful expression that Darrik always wore in public returned to his face.

Soon…

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“No no, silly tall one.” Grob complained as he gently pushed Yavin’s hands off to the side. “Needs more work. Needs to be blended good.”

Yavin glanced at Mar, silently asking for a translation.

Mar obliged. “Grob’s saying it needs a few more minutes in the cauldron. You need to get the fibers of the paper to break down a little so they’ll stick together.”

Yavin stirred the caldron of papery gunk one last time. Grob took the wooden spoon from her and swished it around a little. Okay. It good. I show you how to pour it over the old. Need to make it smooth.”

Mar chuckled. It was only a year ago that Mar was teaching Grob how to make paper, and now the goblin was teaching somebody else. Mar imagined that if it wasn’t for the fact that he only had access to the small alchemy labs supplies and a single paper mold, Grob could probably churn out a hundred pages a day. Heck, if there were a hundred goblins like Grob then Mar would probably be able to supply the whole scribe’s guild with all the low-quality paper they needed.

Mar meanwhile was copying down the last bit of a book on artificing for a client of his, one of the artificer masters, Master Warric.

Much like the paper he was working with, Mar’s writing wasn’t fancy. He couldn’t do the illuminated letters and the fancy flourishes that a book produced by the scribe’s guild had, but it Master Warric commissioned this work directly from him because Mar could do what the scribes guild wouldn’t. And that was to compile a custom book from multiple sources. It was a fairly common request from Master Warric. He liked to make his students read, but usually only a dozen or so pages from any one book. That meant his students either had to go hunting throughout the library or buy dozens of different books.

It was the same problem Master Warric had every year, so when Mar offered to hunt down all his favorite readings and combine them into a custom book that he could hand off to the scribe’s guild to have copies made for all his student he leapt at the chance. And Mar was glad for it. Master Warric was his first and most reliable customer among the faculty, and work for him was part of when kept him off the streets after his food stipend was cut off when the magistrates found out there was no way he was going to be a mage.

“More paper done.” Grob dutifully handed off a piece of paper to Mar, where it was added to a rapidly growing pile. The goblin had just finished drying it off with a drying iron.

Mar tossed Grob a piece of candy. “You’re making paper faster than I can write on it, Grob.” Mar replied with a smile. “Grab the ink-filler on the shelf there for me please Grob.”

Mar had the privilege of writing with a dwarven pen, specially manufactured to hold a tube filled with ink inside the pen itself, which meant Mar wasn’t constantly having to dip his pen in an inkwell. It made his work go significantly faster and his hands significantly cleaner. Normally there’s no way Mar would have been able to afford such a marvel, but this pen had been a gift from Master Warric, who had just returned from visiting his homeland in the dwarven mountains.

Magical as it was, it still needed to be filled. Mar drew out the last of his ink by sucking it up through a straw. He held his thumb over the end until he had over the empty cartridge for his dwarven pen. Mar judged he had just enough paper to finish this job, but he’d have to remember to buy more.

“So, Yavin, you’re a druid, right?” Mar asked.

Yavin nodded curiously. “That’s right.”

“What kind of spells can you cast? If you don’t mind me asking that is?”

“I modified my aura to contain several combat spells, a shielding spell, and a night vision spell. Six of them in total.”

Mar nodded appreciatively. “Six spells total. And one of them a shielding spell you say? Even the weakest shielding spells are second tier spells. Between that and your spell capacity you must be second order.”

“I have herd your mages constantly boasting about what order they are. What does that mean?” Yavin asked.

“It’s the ranking system we use in Orlem. First order mages can cast only the most basic spells, second order mages are competent spell casters, third order is where people about where someone of average talent maxes out after a lifetime of study. Beyond that you must be gifted or uniquely talented. Generally, second order mages are ten times as strong as first order, and third order mages are ten times as strong as a second order. It’s a logarithmic thing. Of course, there’s variation within the orders themselves. Two mages could both officially be in the third order, but one might be three times as powerful as the other.”

Yavin frowned. “You think I’m only a competent spell caster?”

“Ah, well, I meant that as a complement really. You’re a druid and don’t have the benefit of schooling. Second order is quite impressive.”

“Hmf.” Yavin tilted her head away in disdain. “Typical of city mages. They’ve even convinced the rest of you that they’re better spellcasters just because they can read and live in stone houses.”

“Sorry. It’s just that…” Mar wasn’t sure how to reply. Now that he thought about it what he said was pretty rude. She could be a fifth order spell caster for all he knew, limited to six spells only because she was using some really hire tier spell weaves.

“I’ll forgive you.” Yavin said. “If you answer a question of mine.”

Mar nodded. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you get mad at me when we were talking to your friend Verona back there?”

Mar recalled his earlier suspicion. Now that he wasn’t stressed and emotional from dealing with Darrik and seeing Verona for the first time in a while he felt a little silly. “I got it in my head that you might have been manipulating my mind with magic.” Mar confessed. “Silly, I know. But I just got suspicious for some reason. You’re not manipulating my mind with magic, are you?” Mar asked jokingly.

Yavin looked troubled. “Oh no. I would never do that. But I think…” Yavin clutched at the pouch around her neck where the grey stone was dangling. “I think I really need be rid of this troublesome thing. And soon.”

Mar was going to ask her a question when there was a tapping sound on the door to the alchemy lab. Mar wondered curiously who it could be. The reason he could use this alchemy lab was because the last master to use it was over a century dead. Everything in here was outdated and useless.

“I am looking for a Miss Yavin.” Came a gentlemanly voice muffled by the wood of the door.

Yavin looked up. Mar walked over to the door and opened it. Behind it stood a man in a well pressed white silk shirt. His hands had fine leather gloves, he wore a tight-fitting vest and shiny black shoes. He looked exactly like a butler stereotype.

“Are you Miss Yavin?” The butler asked Mar in a dry, humorless tone. Mar looked at him incredulously. “No? Then please step aside please.”

The butler surveyed the room. “Ah. There you are. You match the description I was given for Miss Yavin. Now come along, Master Darrik Pyrastern has requested your presence.”

“Already?” Yavin asked with surprise.

“Yes. Already, now please come with me.” The butler insisted.

“Uhm. I’m not ready. I’m all covered in paper pulp. Give me a moment to clean up and change.”

The butler clicked his tongue. “Very well. I will give you two minutes.”

Yavin shut the door. “I don’t think I trust this Darrik.”

Mar snorted. “I told you. I knew you wouldn’t like him.”

“I need him though. He’s a crystal mage, and I need to repair the seal on this… thing here.” Yavin gestured to the bag around her neck. “I can’t afford to refuse his offer just because I don’t like him. That being said, I didn’t get this far by not being careful. I need your help.”

Mar put up his hands. “No no, I’m not going to Darrik’s estate with you. Sorry, but seeing him once this morning was bad enough.”

“Mar please, this is important. If this totem falls into the wrong hands it could mean the deaths of thousands.”

“Darrik hates my guts. If I walk onto his family estate, surrounded by his retainers and friends it very well could mean my death.”

Yavin sighed. “Fine. You won’t even need to go inside. Just… Yavin slowly took the bag off from around her neck. She gingerly reached her hand inside and slipped out the grey stone. She wrapped it in a piece of paper Grob had just finished drying.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Grob huffed.

“I just need to borrow this one.” Yavin replied. Once the stone was wrapped she sprinkled a bit of wax on it and sealed the package with her thumb. She handed it off to Mar. “Just… hang onto this for me.” Yavin slipped a regular grey stone inside her pouch. “If Darrik is going to legitimately help me I’ll be back for that. Just don’t touch it or let it near anything magical.”

“O-okay.” Mar said slowly.

“Don’t open it.” Yavin repeated meaningfully. Then she opened the door. “Alright.” She said to the butler, who was waiting impatiently. “Take me to Darrik.”