About twenty gold altogether worth of coins had been in the pouches. The assortment of valuables were probably worth something, but not enough for me to worry about at the moment.

However, the two chests held a veritable fortune. It must have been the compensation for whatever dirty jobs these butt openings were supposed to carry out. Well, to the victor goes the spoils, chumps.

My argenti helped me sort and count it all. Bars of precious metals, coins, and gems were piled and accounted for. Without a proper appraisal, the gem values were guesses as close as they could approximate. In total, our haul was worth more than two hundred platinum or six thousand gold.

“Who would pay these thugs so much? And what were they paid for?” Morslon asked what we were all thinking.

“It must have been a monumental task,” Dorstark said.

“Like stealing my grimoire or assassinating me?”

My argenti nodded grimly. We were looking at piles of blood money on the table. The sole redeeming factor is it all being in my possession now. I would have called it a consolation prize, but really… I had not lost my life or my belongings, so it’s really a bonus. Who didn’t love bonus loot? Or, was all loot a bonus?

The thought of diving into the magic books broke me out of my philosophical quandaries about loot.

“What can you tell me about these books before I start reading them?”

Morslon and Dorstark exchanged a look before my mentor spoke up. “That you should not begin your journey down this path by reading random books, Sully.”

“While I hate to agree with him on this, the old guy is right,” Morslon agreed. His comment about Dorstark was more than a little sassy too.

“Young Morslon, if you ever reference my age again, you will not live to equal my many years to regret such a transgression.”

They stared daggers at one another. I was almost certain that if I did not intercede, they may start swinging on one another… or slinging spells.

“Stop. Both of you. First, will one of you explain why talking about your ages matter so much? Second, will someone tell me why I should not just read these books.”

“No,” they said in unison before storming out of the tent and walking in opposite directions.

Well, fuck.

If they were going to leave me without answers, I couldn’t make informed decisions. Despite the books we took pictures of in the library of the Mors, I hadn’t read any of them yet.

What I did know from seeing those is that very few of them had been written in Norvosian. Some journals and collections of notes were, but many of the arcane texts themselves were typically not. That realization had been disheartening to an extreme. Magic would be gated behind learning yet more languages.

Fortunately for me, these two books were not just notes and they were both written in Norvosian.

My first task was to skim them both to learn what they were about. ‘Spatial Transitioning’ was, somewhat unsurprisingly, a guide on various magics used to move objects and people. What did manage to shock me was the number of spells the book seemed to cover, if my assumptions were correct.

It began with ways to levitate or remotely manipulate items, which seemed a lot like telekinesis. The latter half of the book was more interesting; translocation. Teleportation! There was no better way to describe what it was referring to. Short and long distances. Inanimate objects, animals, and people.

I almost turned back to the first page to start reading it. The other book was still there though, simply titled ‘Imbuements’. Almost immediately I discovered that it covered some sort of enchanting. Literally imbuing items with spells!

Of the two, it was immediately the most intriguing. After leafing through the pages I found it covered processes for both temporarily adding effects and instructions on doing so with more permanence.

Back to page one. It was possible to add a whole damned spell to items, though many would add various effects. I read swiftly over much of the book. Slower than my earlier graze, yet faster than a thorough examination which would be needed to actually absorb the information.

Page after page brought an endless array of questions to mind as I had no foundational understanding of magic. This was a primer for an advanced course on the topic and I lacked the most elementary information. It was infuriating. Imagine finding an advanced astrophysics textbook while waiting to enroll in grade school physical sciences.

At least I could read these, unlike so many others. Also, I owned them. They would be the first additions to what I envisioned as being the largest library in this world, eventually.

“What is it that you believe you are doing?” Dorstark asked, having emphasized ‘what’ with more volume and intensity.

I yelped like a teenager caught looking at naughty sites on the family computer.

“‘Come on! Fuck…’ Really, Dorstark?”, I yipped. “Do I need to put a bell on you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A bell my lord?”

“Nevermind.”

“I see that you did not heed our warnings, my lord.”

“Neither of you would give me answers. And you know I want to learn magic. Have wanted to learn something for months now, yet you refuse.”

“With respect, you have not been ready. Still you are not, clearly,” he said, gesturing toward the books.

“Dorstark, you both left me with a metallic red… ‘button’. A lever of sorts. Or a latch release.”

“I fail to see the point you are attempting to make.”

“A temptation.”

“Right. That was my failing, for which I apologize. We should have taken the books with us seeing as you lack self control.”

Morslon entered the tent, stopping to stand next to the elder mage - with a nicely bruising eye.

“What happened Morslon?”

Dorstark cleared his throat. “You both lack discipline and respect. He was recently tutored.”

I guppied my mouth open and closed a few times, not sure what to say. During my time studying I had received corporal punishments all the time, but never anything so severe as to leave a mark visible to others. Even the two times I had called Dorstark old…

“I have apologized and will refrain from such transgressions in the future, High Magister Dorstark,” Morslon said. “Please forgive me Lord Sully.”

“For what?”

“Causing an upset among your argenti.”

“We are all fallible and make mistakes, including myself. Now that everything is forgiven, may I have some answers?”

Morslon remained silent, deferring to Dorstark. “If you are asking for my opinion, we should burn these texts.”

“What? Why would we do that? They are my first magic books. Would they not be worth a small fortune?”

“Because they have been translated to Norvosian. Though you know I do not ascribe to the faiths, there is sacredness of magic in the original Zedak.”

“That really explains nothing.”

“The Zedak, collectively, are languages which are beyond ancient. We may copy them in the original form, but never do we attempt to translate them to Norvosian.”

“Or any other language,” Morslon said. “It is not done.”

“We are making progress now. Why not?”

“‘Fuck’ and ‘digital’ are words from your native tongue, are they not?”

I was impressed at hearing him use the word for the first time. “You know they are.”

“What is the Norvosian word for them?”

There may have been something similar to fuck in Norvosian, but not for digital. I thought about it for a moment. “Rutting, maybe. Nothing accurately translates to ‘digital’ either.” A light went on in the attic. “Ohhh.”

“Precisely. There are words, and whole concepts, we cannot readily translate to Norvosian from arcane manuscripts.”

“How are these translated?”

Morslon walked up to the table and flipped open the imbuements book, “Poorly.”

“If that is true, how do you know any magic at all if entire chunks of those texts are not actually interpreted.”

“As Morslon stated, poorly. We know a great deal while also knowing that we do not know everything,” Dorstark said.

“That literally sounds like a summary of my time in Norvos thus far.”

“Magic, when practiced, loses efficacy as more of the original meanings are lost or strayed from. They can still work with quite a bit missing or being misunderstood, but their effects are weaker or may fail altogether.”

“I believe I understand. As these are written in Norvosian, these would have me starting at a disadvantage compared to their original counterparts.”

“Compared to their older counterparts, yes. It is possible that the originals have been lost to time and we are left with copies of translated copies.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“They could have been written by someone in Norvosian from their own knowledge, introducing even greater flaws as well,” Morslon said.

“There is a chance that someone with a greater understanding could also then improve on it too then, right?”

“In theory, yes. That is highly improbable however,” Dorstark replied.

“For those reasons you both believe I should not use these books then? For now anyway?”

“It is worth stating that you may also develop bad habits which must then be retaught properly, slowing your progression… I was guilty of this at one point,” Morslon said.

“I advise that they be burned.”

“They may be worth something in Videm’s markets and the colleges may be interested in purchasing them, Lord Sully. At the very least, you should wait until you do not actually need those books before deciding what to do with them.”

My mentor sighed, “That would be the most pragmatic decision, which is an improvement by leagues to attempting to learn from them at present.”

“I can accept that, on one condition…”

“Is this a negotiation now?” Dorstark asked

“I suppose so. You will both help me understand at least the basics of magic by the time we reach Videm, if it is possible.”

They both agreed, if a bit reluctantly. My argenti, each in turn, expressed their concerns with me starting down the path toward spell casting. What once sounded so easy a cave-noble could do it, now sounded difficult. It was impossible to know until I tried, being blind to whatever obstacles there were.

“Lord Commander, you have a visitor,” one of my guards called from outside the tent.

I almost invited them in until I looked around at my grimoire, piles of wealth, magic books, and other things strewn about. Outside the tent stood a familiar minister. Many of them wore the same or similar masks, but some were unique. This was one such priest.

“You were at the temple with me when I presented the offering.”

She bowed, “Indeed. Congratulations on your elevation to that of nobility, Lord Sully.”

“I had not realized you were accompanying our caravan… I must apologize, I do not believe I have been given your name.”

“Ruko, and it had not been planned initially. I was sent to join the caravan the next day.”

“Pleasure to meet you, officially, Ruko. May I ask who sent you, and why?”

“Those answers are what bring me to you presently. High Minister Keldar ordered me to accompany you to Videm, should you ever find yourself in need of a minister.”

“Why might I need a minister while travelling?”

“Answers, guidance, solace… Healing perhaps.”

“We have healers aplenty, minister,” Dorstark declared.

“I could always use more people around willing to give me answers,” I said, pointedly looking at my argenti. “Why do you wear that mask?”

Morslon took in a sharp breath, but said nothing.

She reached up and touched the mask, almost caressing it. “I wear this mask to honor the god I most favor, Verot.” Her fingers lingered on the slit in the middle of a ruined left eye socket.

“Why wear masks at all?”

“Lord Sully!” Morslon protested.

“It is quite alright. I am well versed in his lordships… background,” she said. “It would normally be considered extremely rude to speak so candidly about this matter. To answer your question, our personal identities are not important to our duties.”

“I appreciate your candor. Last one for now… Would you mind telling me about Verot?”

“Verot is the one-eyed god of chance.” Her voice conveyed elation as her mask hid a smile I could only suspect. “I am certain you would prefer to learn of his splendor in Verot’s sagas however.” Ruko produced a smaller book from within her robes and presented it to me.

“Thank you Ruko. Honestly, books are the greatest gifts anyone could give me… aside wealth,” I joked.

Dorstark cleared his throat.

“Right. Right… All of that is less than the undying loyalty of my argenti, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

We made our way to an outside seating area to eat and continue our chat. Small talk mostly. I was not going to readily discuss any of my secrets in an open space, or to a newcomer. After I finished my second dinner, Roku excused herself to turn in for the evening.

Only after she left did it occur to me that I stopped hearing the ‘sounds’ of our captives being questioned. It had stopped quite a while ago actually. We probably hadn’t learned what we wanted to know yet or someone would have come to inform me, I think.

More tired than most nights this early, I decided it would be best to turn in early. Last night and all the walking today were finally catching up to me, demanding I go to sleep. Comfortable and less anxious than I had been at the inn, I drifted off shortly after reintroducing my head to a pillow.

*****

Twice during the night guards rushed into my tent only to find me alone, howling in fear. The damned horrors of my dreams refused to grant me one night’s respite.

I woke as our camp came to life in the morning. The pleasant aroma of cooked meats and eggs wafted into my tent, beckoning me to arise for the day. A few splashes of water from a basin performed a minor miracle in washing away the dregs of dreariness from ever longer nights.

Looking at my cell phone it occurred to me that the days may actually be shortening. It’s clock was not at all accurate any longer, but I still used it to track the passage of time every now and then. A single day here in our world was about four hours longer than in my old world.

Silently I pondered these questions as I made my way through the morning meals among the soldiers. Hopefully my presence was more a benefit than a hindrance, but only time will tell I suppose. Unlike the nobles, most of the looks I received here were filled with awe and fascination.

My argenti found me lost in thought and food as I started my second serving. “Good morning.”

They both nodded, mouths already working to chew.

“I have a question,” I said, waiting for one of them to free up a moment to speak.

“Of course, my lord,” Morslon said.

“The nights, are they growing longer.”

“They do so every winter, fortunately.”

“How is that a good thing?”

He shrugged, “If nights were longer during the warmer months, farmers would have less time in the day to work the fields.”

That made sense in a way. Though now I questioned their knowledge of astronomy and that whole barrel of monkeys.

“It does not impact the resolute overly much, given the ease of illumination incantations,” Dorstark said.

“Candles are not overly expensive either.”

“Interesting. Only last night did I really begin to notice it.” What I didn’t say however is that it also made sense because I felt each was more trying and grueling than the last. I had just the thing to help clear away my morning funk.

I finished and left them to their meals, rushing off to my tent. All the foodstuffs foreign to my new home were in a single trunk, which is where I found the splendid stuff I sought.

Shortly thereafter I held a mug filled with hot water from our camp’s cook and stirred in the appropriate ingredients. Pleased with the look and aroma, I reverently brought it to my lips. I relished my first sublime sip of a potion lost to me here.

Dark nectar delivering me from the abyss. I missed the marvelous catharsis of drinking coffee. Being my first cup in months, I gave absolutely zero fucks that it was the ‘instant’ variety. Yes, today will be a good day.

As if I had tempted fate, a scream sounded nearby. It nearly caused me to drop my mug and spill the cherished contents. If someone wasn’t dying, they might have for that mishap if we had all been so unfortunate.

It wasn’t just coffee either. No, I used a packet of hot cocoa too. It would have been two invaluable items wasted. Many of the teas and brewed beverages in Orya had been good, but nothing like this. Perhaps I have a bias.

The sounds came from within our camp, though no guards rushed toward it. That meant the enhanced inquiry began again. Working with the wails in the background would be grating. I found my argenti and told them I was going to walk around a bit.

My guard detail had shadowed me while I ate, just like the good old days back in Orya. I had grown accustomed to them always being around and now found their presence comforting. What I didn’t miss was the looks from other nobles, still.

Blending in would be impossible for me, given my significantly greater height. I tried to pay them no mind, continuing to walk and drink.

Outside the central area I walked by an endless amount of tents. Thus far I had not ventured beyond our camp. The looks from most soldiers ranged between deference and indifference. Walking in their areas proved to be the most pleasant.

A winded runner approached, almost sliding to a stop. “Lord Commander, your presence is requested by the High Commander and Lieutenant Volk.”

I turned and began walking back toward our camp, the direction the teenage looking messenger had run back toward after being dismissed. The boy had not said where they were, so my command tent was as good a guess as any.

Nespolan, my argenti, and my officer were all present when I entered the tent. “You rang?” I tried to draw out the word ‘rang’ in Norvosian. The effect wasn’t quite right.

“What?” They all asked as one.

I laughed, “It’s a saying of my people. Sounding a bell and calling others to you. Nevermind.”

“We have news,” Volk said.

Nespolan leaned forward in her seat. “The captives did not give us much. Only the existence of another group also following us, which was confirmed by our scouts. They found the remains of two separate camps, which is somewhat concerning.”

“That does not sound good at all.”

“It is not. Moving forward we will have outriders and scouts ranging further from the caravan. Fortunately, we have the ability to manage a rather large net.”

“Any information on who hired these rutting butt openings?”

For all their military bearing, Volk and Nespolan smiled a bit at my crude phrase. Morslon actually laughed, making Dorstark’s groan all the better.

“The only thing we have gained from them was the name of a group; the Eternals.”

“That sounds ominous. Do we know anything about them?”

Dorstark shook his head, “We do not. It is likely that theirs is the signature at the bottom of the letters.”

“And we still need to figure out what was written in those.”

“Already done,” Morslon proclaimed. “We worked on it most of last night and this morning. It was not too difficult actually.”

“They are written in Taernish and were not difficult to decode,” Dorstark said. “The story these messages tell is disturbingly foreboding. Earlier messages discussed summoning a creature that would kill their target. They shifted to a dark tone of condemnation and punishments for failure.”

“The most recent communications ordered this band of…” He almost called them butt openings, I could tell. “...whatever they are, to pilfer your grimoire and other items.”

“Though the letters do not name me directly, I believe that I was their initial target,” Nespolan said.

To the west of Norvos there was a vast swath of disputed lands which ran from the northern to southern coasts. Beyond that unclaimed band lay the Kingdom of Taern which stretched to include the western coast of Orbil.

“Let me see if I understand this so far. A mysterious group of people hired another less mysterious group of thugs to summon that ‘minotaur’ to kill Nespolan. Then I wound up saving him, and now they want my things.”

“Sounds right,” Morslon said.

Our group sat in silence as we all thought about the implications of our discoveries. Someone wanting what they did not have didn’t really surprise me. Nor did plots to kill nobles. It was just a lot to take in.

“It is unlikely that the remaining captives will give up any more information, Lord Commander. What are your orders?” Volk asked.

“Remaining captives?”

“Ten yet live, my lord.”

“What happened to the other four?”

“One was already wounded from the battle and perished at the beginning of our interrogations. Three others also expired before we received any information. After that, they were only slightly more cooperative. There is no guarantee that we would learn more from those that remain if we continued for a prolonged period.”

I unpacked every part of my lieutenant’s statement, slowly gnawing at the disgusting bits of fetid information. Knowing people were being interrogated with intensity and being told that they were in fact being tortured to death was a different matter. The gristley mess was no easier to chew on knowing it was within my power to have stopped it, had I known.

Choking down bile and taking a sip of water, I readied myself to have this discussion. “What would normally be done with prisoners such as these?” I asked, looking at each of those present in turn.

“For the crimes of thievery from and attempted murder of a noble? The lives of all those guilty would be forfeit,” Nespolan said, matter of factly.

“Plotting to kill a member of the royal family would also give cause to pass guilt on their families as well, should the intended victim or someone of higher station choose to press for justice,” Morslon said.

Nespolan shook her head in conveyance that she would not pursue such a claim, for justice. Her words I understood in a way. Albeit the punishments were harsh, they were not unearned. Including their families in their fate, for justice, was a vile concept to me.

“Execution then? Would we need to do it publicly? All of this is… new to me.”

“There have not been executions in Norvos since the reign of King Nesferk, three royal generations prior,” Morslon said.

“What then? You said their lives would be forfeit… I must, again, admit ignorance and require an explanation as to what the normal punishment would be.”

“Most nobles would hold them for rejuvenations.”

Nespolan and Volk gestured in agreement to Morslon’s statement.

“Rejuvenation does not sound bad.”

Dorstark frowned and looked away.