“Really? You’ll do it?” Torvald said, clearly excited.

“I’ll accept if the count appoints me.” Bernt hedged. “You said yourself that you can’t just choose me.”

“Eh.” Torvald shrugged confidently, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something on it. “My mom was born a princess. I mean, only technically—she was never really in the line of succession, but still. She grew up in the king’s palace in Teres! Narald is going to listen to her. At least, as long as nobody else with more practical influence leans on him first.”

Bernt had come to work early to do some reading in the break room – it was more comfortable than his lackluster stone furniture at home – but he’d found the paladin already there and waiting for him. By the looks of it, he meant to send a message with Bernt’s response up to the palace before work.

That seemed a little odd. Was it really that urgent?

With a friendly clap on his shoulder, the Torvald hurried out the door to find a messenger, leaving Bernt in the nearly-deserted breakroom.

Well, this was it. Sighing to himself, Bernt pulled out the book on familiar bonds and went to make himself a cup of tea.

***

Asra allowed Narald’s secretary announce her, but she didn’t wait for his invitation to enter. It was important to maintain proprieties, but he was just a count.

Seeing her enter, the secretary quietly sketched a bow and retreated.

Narald sat at his desk across from his court mage, Iriala, who peered disapprovingly over her glasses at her. She looked for all the world like a grumpy old schoolteacher. Idly, Asra wondered if the woman had ever been one. Maybe she'd taught at the Mages’ Academy.

“Your highness.” The count said smoothly, turning slightly in his seat to greet her. “How may I be of service to you today?”

She and Narald had always gotten along well. Almost, anyway. When she’d first moved here with Righmond, the count had feared that she would attempt to usurp his position in Halfbridge. But he’d calmed down after some reassurances, and he’d even helped her manage some family drama a few years back when Righmond had gotten himself into hot water over some business down at the docks.

“I had a thought regarding the meeting yesterday, and I wanted to ask a favor of you,” she began. “As I'm sure you're aware, any priest acting on behalf of the Invigilation will need a legitimator appointed to accompany them, especially since they’re planning to get involved in international politics...”

Narald furrowed his brow. “Ah… and what, you want to act as the legitimator for your son? I thought you hated politics. Besides, I don’t think I can even do that. You outrank me, technically.”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Asra said with a polite laugh, shaking her head. “I want to make sure my son is protected. That, and I don’t want to see my relatives from Teres get their claws into him. You've met them, so I'm sure you understand. If you don’t appoint someone soon, Renias will almost certainly send someone to shepherd the family’s new “rising star” for the benefit of the crown. He’s barely grown into a man—he’s not ready for that.”

Narald’s face grew conflicted, and he threw a glance at the archmage before looking back at her.

“There’s not a lot I can do if the king takes a personal interest. You do realize that he can simply overrule my appointment, right?”

“He won’t,” Asra said with more confidence than she felt. “Halfbridge is all that still connects northern and southern Besermark. He won’t want to offend you as long as your pick doesn’t directly undermine him in some way. Your personal loyalty and goodwill is valuable coin right now to the crown right now.”

The count considered that for a moment before nodding to himself. “Makes sense. I suppose that you have somebody in mind?”

Asra nodded firmly. “I do. As I’m sure you’re aware, Torvald has been working for the Underkeepers. One of his new friends from there—a mage—invented a spell to burn demons. I hear that he distinguished himself in the battle in the Undercity, just as Torvald did. He seems like an appropriate choice, all things considered.”

A soft, considering hum drew Asra’s attention to the archmage, whose glasses briefly shone with a glint of iridescent light as she apparently started scrying or divining or whatever, right then and there!

That hardly seemed appropriate, but Asra ignored her. Let her play her own games. The mage didn’t really concern her. The Underkeeper boy had nothing to do with the king or the nobility, and that was good enough for her. If Torvald was happy, then all the better.

“I’ll handle it.” Narald promised.

“Thank you.” Asra nodded graciously toward the count and swept out of the room. At least that was one problem taken care of. Righmond still wouldn’t be happy—he’d wanted to send one of his own people—but life was built on compromises.

***

Narald gave Iriala a meaningful look as the door closed behind the retreating figure.

“That Underkeeper's one of yours, isn’t it?” he said. “The one with the demon that killed Nuros.”

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“She killed Nuros’ host.” Iriala corrected, giving up her divining attempts for the moment. As far as she could tell, the woman really was just looking out for her son. “Nuros is probably back already. I’d guess that he was the one behind the fall of Loamfurth. The Solicitors assure me that powerful demons are difficult to bind into a pact, and expensive to maintain. I seriously doubt that the Duergar have more than one.”

“I see,” the count said. “And the Underkeeper?”

“He’s a guild member,” she said. “Still, he’s more closely associated with the Underkeepers. I don’t know that he’s going to accept. He’s loyal to archmage Thurdred and probably won’t want to leave with him missing. If you don’t mind, I’d still like to get one of mine appointed. Maybe to Hannis. We can count on that old goat to be in the thick of things.”

“You would, wouldn't you?” The count asked with a snort. “I don’t know, Iriala. I think one mage is enough. I have a balance to maintain here, and I can’t afford to be seen playing favorites.”

“I suppose,” she allowed, frowning thoughtfully. The young Underkeeper wouldn’t have been her first choice, but at least he was already as good as appointed.

She needed someone on the ground to help her push things in the right direction. Ideally, it would be someone more reliable and sensible than Pollock’s new protege, but at least the boy wasn’t stupid. She’d have to have a talk with him soon. At least he was already friends with the young Ruzinian paladin. Still, it would be a lot more convenient to have someone more experienced along.

“Have you thought about security?” she asked. “Three of the temple representatives are priests, and legitimators aren’t usually expected to protect their charges—especially if you’re planning to send any of your courtiers.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Narald said with a glint in his eye. He’d guessed where she was going with this. “The Adventurer’s Guild has graciously offered us a discount. I already accepted.”

Iriala frowned. How had Ambrose gotten to Narald ahead of her? She really was going to have to rely on the Underkeeper boy.

“How long do we have till they leave?” she asked, trying to decide on her next steps. She had a lot of work ahead of her if Bernt was going to be ready.

***

“Here are the citations for today.” Bernt said, putting a small stack of papers on Fiora’s desk. She’d sent him to inspect a handful of businesses in the Crafters’ Quarter and review their waste disposal procedures. “A dwarven smelting facility and a dyer in the Crafting Quarter are both dumping toxic waste into the septic system.”

Fiora grunted as she flipped through the citations. “Did they give you trouble?”

Bernt shrugged. “No, not really—they just played dumb. I explained that they were going to contaminate their own food supply with the mushroom farm and that seemed to get through to them. I don’t think they’re going to be a problem.”

“Good, thanks.” Fiora said, and then looked up to meet his eyes. “Listen, Ed was doing his best to keep you off of inspection duties like this. We’ll get some of the others trained up on the waste management procedures here soon. I know you’ve had… a bad experience, but the backlog is pretty extreme, and we’re short staffed.

“Fiora, it’s fine,” Bernt said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He’d known that Ed avoided sending him to any alchemists, but he hadn’t realized that they were making accommodations for him to this degree. “It’s my job. I can do whatever you need.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Fiora said, leaning back. “I got a request from Archmage Iriala about an hour ago. She wants me to loan you out to the Mages’ Guild for a few weeks. In exchange, she’s offering to put a word in with the magistrate to get City Maintenance to start sharing the load down here. It’s technically their job already, but you know how they are…”

Bernt nodded, considering. What she wasn’t saying was that she needed their engineers a lot more than a single pyromancer when it came to getting all of the new facilities that were being built down here up to code.

“So, you’re giving me a choice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More of an explanation.” Fiora replied with an apologetic smile. “We haven’t even finished with the Crafters’ Quarter, and it’s about to get a lot worse. The crafters that came down from the surface after the battle are setting up in the new Refugee Quarter, and all of them will need inspections soon as well. The people at City Maintenance have their hands full supporting the reconstruction of city infrastructure in the Lower and Crafters’ Districts.”

Fiora sighed tiredly and her face fell into a scowl that suddenly reminded Bernt of Ed. “They’ve been arguing that the Undercity is our responsibility first. The magistrate hasn’t done anything to discourage that attitude. I stopped sewer maintenance on the surface in protest, but everyone with any solid leverage is up there. They won’t really feel the effects for a few weeks.”

“Fair enough,” Bernt said. “I don’t mind. I’ve been meaning to carve out some time to research up at the guild anyway. It’ll be easier if I’m already in the building.”

“Oh?” Fiora said inquisitively. “What are you working on?”

“It’s a couple of things…” Bernt said evasively and then held up his right arm, letting the sleeve fall back to reveal the glowing patterns on his lower arm. “I need to work out what kind of investiture to get next that might actually form an augmentation. That and a couple of other ideas…”

He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his familiar bond right now. Nobody was aware that it was still working, or even that it had survived Jori’s deportation. Except… he’d mentioned it to Josie. But she was gone. Nobody in Halfbridge would know, unless Radast had been spying on him. He had been seeing shadows in the corner of his eye lately. But that was most likely just paranoia. It might be a valuable secret to keep for now.

Fiora nodded, pursing her lips as she examined his arm.

“It’s interesting, you know. I knew a few people who burned out their mana networks when I was in the army. Not totally, mind you, but enough to retire. It’s hard on them.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Don’t underestimate your accomplishment, you hear? Even if it stunts your growth, you’re already going to help a lot of people. That counts for something.”

“Wait.” Bernt shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean? Pollock told me that nobody was using my hellfire derivative. We don’t really know anything about what happens if a mage attempts further investitures afterward. It’s not safe yet.”

The older mage huffed a laugh and offered him a sardonic grin. “No, no. The guild hasn’t endorsed it, and it isn’t administering your procedure to injured veterans in a controlled environment in exchange for a fee. That doesn’t mean nobody is doing it. These are people who burned their spirits to protect their fellow soldiers and themselves. To win battles. You know what it feels like to do that to yourself. It doesn’t just happen by accident. Do you think people like that are going to wait for a recommendation from the guild when there’s a war on? Did you?”

“Oh,” Bernt said, swallowing. He didn’t know how to feel about that. It felt good to know that other people valued his work. On the other hand, he wasn’t going to get paid anything for mages who tried to replicate his sorcerous investiture on their own. Not to mention what might happen if they didn’t adequately replicate his hellfire derivative.