B4 Chapter 9: Double Trouble
Marcus crept through the halls of the castle, his every step putting the stealth of a [Rogue] to shame. He approached the next chamber carefully, keeping himself hidden as he surveyed it and the other halls in either direction. The coast was clear.
Relieved, he hurried onward, feeling exposed as he darted through the intersection. It seemed to stretch impossibly before him, extending his state of heightened awareness. Just a bit further. The door was right there. A few dozen more feet, and—
“Dada!”
A dreadful cry echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the walls as though coming from everywhere at once. Marcus froze mid-step. His attempt to escape had not gone unnoticed.
Fixing a warm smile on his face, he swung to regard the source of the cry. A small boy, still wobbly on his feet, with chubby cheeks and a wispy layer of curls atop his head. He peeked out from behind a large piece of pottery, staring wide-eyed at Marcus.
A second later, his twin popped his head out to stare as well.
It wasn’t unexpected. The two were never far away from one another, just like their mothers. But if they were here…
“Dada!!”
He’d barely begun the thought before a second cry rang through the halls. His head whipped around to the opposite hallway in time to catch a second pair of toddlers rounding the corner, two girls who looked practically indistinguishable from their brothers. Well… half-brothers, technically.
Marcus nearly swore under his breath. They were working together, the little devils. Since when had they learned such trickery?
Together, all four of them charged. Marcus ran some calculations in his head. If he just continued walking, he could make it to the door in twenty seconds. Half that if he ran. But either response would have a predictable outcome. The kids, having spotted him, would not accept his flight as anything less than a complete betrayal. Even a slow walk was still much faster than their stubby legs could carry them, though their speed honestly surprised him at times, and it would also correctly read as him darting from the room to flee their attention. The girls might protest even if he remained still, given the vast distance between himself and them.
For a moment, he rued himself for not using [Perfect Disguise] beforehand.The skill had evolved, not in response to battle or intrigue, but simply from the amount of time he spent hiding from the twin princesses and their children. But no, the kids were too gregarious for their own good. They may well have intercepted him even if he were disguised as a common servant. Besides, the princesses had made their dislike of such tactics known, and dealing with their wrath would be even worse than this current predicament.
Without other options, Marcus decided to employ his own brand of deceit. He broadened his grin, waving to the boys enthusiastically with both hands. The boys stopped in place, grinning and waving to match. Then, he turned to the girls and did the same. He turned back and forth, alternating sides to distract the kids and fix them in place as he slowly began to retreat.
By the time they started moving forward again—a far slower endeavor, since they seemed only capable of moving their hands or their feet at any given time—He was already nearly at the door. The two groups were well into the chamber at this point, and his retreat had them drawing near to each other as well as their father. As they came within a dozen feet, they finally noticed each other. In a stroke of absolute luck, they decided to wave to each other instead of their father, bouncing up and down and looking for all the world like reflections in a mirror.
Marcus knew better than to waste such an opportunity. He turned and bolted for the door, slipping through before they remembered his existence. He stood on the other side for a long moment, pressing his back to it and holding his breath. When no cries or wailing reached his ears, he finally relaxed.
Two kids were a lot. He’d expected two. But four? It was too much. Going from a life of actively fleeing anything remotely resembling parental responsibility to this… It was a lot. And it was only made worse by the fact that their mothers expected him to help out. Him. He didn’t know how to be a father. Hell, he’d hardly even had one himself.
Thankfully, they seemed to be satisfied with what he’d provided so far. His lullabies could put the kids to sleep in record time, and their response to his lute was the closest thing to mind control he’d ever seen. But still! He was a [Royal Bard]. Such a use of his skills was like having a high-level [Fire Mage] to act as a lord’s dedicated water heater. Isn’t this why they had [Nursemaids]?
Sometimes, he still found himself thinking about leaving it all behind and simply returning to his old ways of traveling the countryside. But no. Life had other plans in store for him. There were too many people and factions with their hooks in him now, pulling him this way and that as they shouted “responsibility” and “duty.” The only reason why he and his family were allowed to stay in the castle at all was because of him—Tiberius had made it one part of his reward for exceptional service. And another way to keep him close at hand, no doubt.
It made him remember why he’d chosen to avoid tying himself down for so long. But helping with the kids did put their mothers in quite a good mood. And enjoying the fruits of his labors was only reasonable.
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After a brief respite, Marcus levered himself off the door and resumed his forward progress. This time, he wasn’t just fleeing for flight’s sake. He actually had somewhere to be. The [Nursemaids] or the [Twin Princesses] would have to watch over the kids for now. They were always nearby and had a sixth sense for whenever the kids were about to get into trouble—one of the perks of the [Parenting] skill, apparently.
A few more turns brought him before a thick door with dense lines of enchantments covering its entire surface. A few runes glowed at his approach, and it swung open of its own volition. Marcus stepped through and emerged into a broad chamber—the Grand Mage Claude’s personal study.
The place was tidier than he’d ever seen it… in a sense. The furniture and towering piles of books had been pushed to the periphery or removed entirely, leaving the entire center of the chamber clear. Only a few instruments of twisted glass, metal, and crystal remained, each one manned by a handful of the mage’s apprentices. The floor itself had been replaced with smooth stone, its surface etched with a ritual circle and incantations even more dense than those that adorned the door. And there, seated at its center, was the man himself. Grand Mage Claude. Decked out in all manner of amulets, rings, and talismans that each had to be worth more than Marcus’s entire spellbook several times over.
His remaining apprentices bustled about the circle, checking and rechecking minute details. Each one was accompanied by a pair of Legionnaire mages who observed their work with great interest, asking occasional questions. Marcus tore his gaze away from the circle after only a few seconds. Even looking at the finely carved lines of flowing text made his head hurt.
“Marcus.”
He looked over to see Eleonora standing nearby, her arms crossed in front of her chest. The [Healer] looked to have aged ten years when only one had passed, the bags under her eyes deepening more every time they came across each other.
“Eleonora.” Marcus sketched a quick bow and moved to stand near her. “I must admit, I did not expect to see you here.”
“Why? I think I’ve been doing pretty well on the levels front.”
He raised his hands placatingly at the girl’s annoyed tone. “You know nothing could be further from the truth. I simply believed that you would be with Gaius.”
The girl’s flush of indignation quickly turned to one of embarrassment. “W-what do you mean?”
“Hmm?” He arched an eyebrow and smiled innocently. “You’ve been following the First Legion as its resident [Healer], have you not? What did you think I meant?”
Eleonora gaped at him before quickly looking away. “N-nothing. It just… Nevermind. I’m here just in case things go poorly. What are you doing here?”
Marcus chuckled at the awkward attempt to change the subject. “Evidently, I am here as a witness. As in so many other cases. Though I suppose my presence may be seen as a bulwark against emergencies as well.”
In truth, Marcus didn’t know exactly why Tiberius had invited him along. But he certainly wouldn’t say no to such an opportunity. But Eleonora’s value was clear enough.
[Healer] (Lvl 23)
A quick [Appraisal] confirmed it. The girl had benefited quite a bit from her station. Not as much as himself, of course, but the gain in levels was quite respectable. He suspected that her skills had seen similar growth as well.
They fell silent, watching the preparations from the sidelines as they waited for the others to arrive. Claude shouted directions at the other mages, casting about with last-minute checks of his own. An apprentice levitated several bottles of red liquid toward the old mage, who snatched them out of the air and arrayed them in front of himself.
There had apparently been no small amount of experimentation with adding a single individual to the Legion. It worked as one might expect, resetting their level and stats to those of a level one. Often, this only led to a bit of weakness or disorientation. However, in the case of the Grand Mage, that process had some rather severe implications. His lifespan had been extended to this point mainly from a not insignificant investment into his constitution stat. If those points were to disappear, there was no guarantee he would live at all. Hence the preparations.
Though the ritual itself had been devised by the Grand Mage, it would be performed by the Legionnaires of the First Legion. Such an arrangement would allow them to draw on their not insignificant mana pool and hopefully sustain the man long enough to stabilize. The details weren’t exactly clear to Marcus. What he did know was that this may well be another entry into the Legion’s steadily growing list of miraculous accomplishments.
A few more people trickled in over the next few minutes. Quintus first, the newly promoted Legatus, looking more dour than ever before, as though he’d inherited Tiberius’s own spirit of granite. The emperor himself arrived a few minutes later, along with a handful of guards. Both men stood to the side, barely acknowledging Marcus and Eleonora amidst the rush of activity.
Tiberius swept his gaze across the scene. “Are you prepared?”
“As I’ll ever be!” Grand Mage Claude’s grin evoked images of Marcus’s sons rather than an ancient and powerful man capable of leveling continents. “Ah, actually…”
Claude grabbed two of the many bottles before him and flicked their corks off with his thumbs. “I’ll need to down these potions after the ritual begins for best results. It’s probably overkill, but, well, who knows at this point?”
The uncertainty clearly excited the man, even though it meant his possible death. Marcus had to stop shaking his head in disbelief. Adventurers were crazy, but academics? They were in a league all their own.
Tiberius nodded and stepped forward. “Claude Aventurnus. I will have your oath.”
Claude grinned and began reciting the same oath any new Legionnaire recited before joining. Legionnaires mages around the circle began their incantations in time with the oath. As soon as Claude finished, he tossed back the first of the potions even as a golden light filled the chamber, and the circle flared to life. The air itself crackled with so much magical energy that Marcus could barely breathe. Instruments clattered and sang around the room as they recorded whatever insanity was currently happening.
Marcus forced himself to peer into the blinding light at the figure inside. Claude remained sitting, a multitude of secondary glows flaring about him as the enchantments and talismans roared to life. Golden light rolled off him in waves that erupted outward, only to be redirected back toward the man by the ritual circle. He saw the faint form of a trembling arm raising the second potion to his mouth amidst the chaos.
A resounding crack split the air. Golden light began to pour out from the ritual circle like water from a geyser, slamming into Marcus like a physical blow. He stumbled back a few steps as shouts arose from the others around the chamber.
Claude still remained at its center. But before their eyes, his form grew thinner and thinner, slumping forward as his back bowed with age.
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