Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Doephluev enters a particular prison cell. She’s supposed to be making more of the laugur decoction for Daniel, but she knows that, with as much as she has given him already, he is likely dangerously close to unconsciousness, which is a very, very thin line before death.

In a way, Daniel is too trusting. Doephluev could poison him right now, and it would be too late for anyone to do anything by the time the realized it.

But, that’s not her goal.

Thymeria looks up from her knees with a rather haggard expression. She has the book hidden, as instructed, or it has already been stolen from her. It was little more than a romantic fiction, but Doephluev would have chewed off her left hand to have any book to read, no matter how mindless the drivel within might’ve been. Thymeria is being exposed to a similar level of isolation, but she’s not experiencing the same ‘welcome’ Doephluev got as a prisoner. She still mercifully can’t remember what Daniel did, even though he later confessed, but she remembers a sense of drowning that slipped into her nightmares until Daniel started treating her kindly.

It was a torture method that Daniel used a few times, but only because he felt that it wasn’t as bad as it actually is. He has since stopped using it, though Doephluev has used far worse on her enemies.

Regardless, the Uhl’tall prisoner remarks coldly, “Here to taunt me once more, ‘your Enlightened Grace’?”

This is actually the third time Doephluev has visited Thymeria, though the second time, after deploying Cheshyret, gained very little. Thymeria is still extremely hesitant to speak of the Fellmother or the friars, but Doephluev is running out of time.

“A little, yes,” replies Doephluev sarcastically. She walks over to Thymeria’s bed, folding it down from the wall so she can sit on it. Like before, she has the inner and outer doors wide open, but the Uhl’tall former-priestess doesn’t seem keen on taking her chances. It’s a good thing, since no one knows that Doephluev rigged the mana-lock with all sorts of instantly lethal traps. She crosses her legs, leaning back on her hands to rest her belly. The cramps have been happening in varying intensity since that first really bad moment, but she has been too busy to deal with it yet.

“Ahhh… You’re the only one I can be honest with, after all,” adds the archoneldwyn Empress.

Thymeria scoffs at this, looking at the wall across from Doephluev. “If you were truly someone of the position you claim, you would know that’s one of the most transparent lies yet.”

Doephluev giggles. “True, though, as I said before, I’m not on your side or that of your friar. I serve the Fellmother herself, and only her. If I tried to explain the difference to the others, surely, I would face far harsher conditions than sitting alone in a quiet cell, visited by Illianna and the Stalvaltan soldiers every day to be ‘questioned’.” She places her hand over her right cheek, splaying her fingers as she recalls the nightmare. “I… still remember that feeling of drowning…” She goes distant for a moment as she really digs into the feeling she remembers. “And, the isolation… You have no idea what it’s like to have no stimuli for even a single week.”

“If you want me to thank you for the book…”

“I don’t care about that.” Doephluev groans as she sits up a little. “I want to know why your friar of the water has strayed from the path.”

“What?” asks Thymeria, confused.

“Well, obviously, the Fellmother ordered all of us to avoid interfering with the otherworlders during the mana fire. She can’t descend upon a world that has been destroyed, after all. And, it appears he has found some way to isolate himself from her gaze.” The archoneldwyn slowly stands up, wincing when her belly feels a moment of sharp pain. I need to get this looked at… I hate playing into that chimera’s hands, but… I don’t want to find out the hard way she’s right.

She continues her thought, “As you know, the Fellmother tolerates no dissent. The rampage glyphs she used on your sister and Aoloan are proof of that. And, it seems Sayrdarralouche was one of her thralls as well.”

“I know you’re making all of this up,” retorts Thymeria. But, Doephluev has spent a fair amount of time accomplishing a great many clandestine things, from interrogations, torture, and obviously, assassination. She doesn’t have the same natural abilities to detect lies the way dattakoriens or Commander Leiwelles do, but she does have a practiced ear for it.

And, Thymeria’s defiance is slowly withering away.

“You know the consequences for going rogue, Thymeria. I know it’s half of the reason I can leave the doors wide open for you, and you will go nowhere. After all…” Doephluev leans close and uses her hand to tug the Uhl’tall’s cheek to interlock their gazes. She adds deviously, “If you were no longer useful, her great Divinity would simply have me kill you, rather than question you.”

“What makes you think I’d know where he is or what he’s doing if you and the Great One don’t, assuming anything you’ve ever told me is true?” growls the young former priestess. “I’ve been out of direct contact with him essentially since we fled the Covenant before it became the Hegemony. Not to mention the last few weeks…” She gestures at the cell around her.

Doephluev giggles, releasing Thymeria’s cheek with a final, slightly forceful shove. “Then tell me how you would have tried to get in contact with him again. Like the Fellmother in regards to you, who has been isolated in here since your arrest, I’d like to use your means of passing challenges with your friar to draw him out. Otherwise, I will finish the job Daniel interrupted with Vaergraes. And, I will not be gentle about it.” The archoneldwyn stands up calmly, starting for the door. “If you agree, check under your pillow. If you don’t… well, let’s hope the Fellmother’s patience for you is greater than that fool of a human fancying himself an Emperor.”

Thymeria stares at Doephluev’s back for every step towards the exit. The archoneldwyn never falters even a single step. She closes the inner door, collects her traps, and then closes the outer door to the hallway, already ready for phase two of her visits.

She screams once she knows the doors will prevent Thymeria from hearing. She can’t break facade, but the pain is unbearable, and she collapses to her right hand and knees, crying out in pain as her left hand tries to clutch her belly. She can barely hear the guards as they keep their firearms trained on her, shouting for her not to make any sudden moves or draw any weapons.

Please… Please don’t let this break apart… I’ll explain, Darling… Just… please… give me a… chance…

Doephluev collapses onto her side. The last thing she can make any sense of is one of the soldiers rushing towards her, the other three remaining back.

Sorry… I’m so sorry…

***

Daniel watches as Yaulwembor stalks closer from the direction of the flyway. From the reports, she overused her own mana to capture Sayrdarralouche in a makeshift ‘Gate’ spell mimicking Serrentuk’s divine gift, which he was born with, and the faormyr fell unconscious for a time. But, being Yaulwembor, she has no true loyalty to anyone but maybe Daniel, since he earned a small amount of trust with her by protecting her and giving her a home. And, although Hekate made one of the first attempts to communicate with her via the dream magic, Daniel is the one who spends most of the time trying to teach her how to read and write, which manages to carry over to when she’s awake.

As such, she lasted longer than he thought she would following the others, but she did help a fair amount with ensuring Sayrdarralouche is at least isolated. Because of his size, he has no idea how to begin addressing the ancient dragon, but it’s a problem for later, since the Gate spell is essentially internet cloud storage for solid matter, and as far as Daniel knows, there’s no regular ‘fee’ of mana, though he’ll need to check with Yaulwembor when he can, since it won’t be easy to just ask her until her literacy increases.

The distinctive warbling of her voice approaches from the darkness, but the golems already alerted Daniel, so he whispers, “Yaulwembor.” He pats the floor next to him, careful not to disturb the two dragons sleeping against his legs. As he mentioned to Hekate, Daniel took Fal to let Ryuogriar and Emerald finally get some sleep, and he offered to let them both rest against his legs, since even Emerald worked surprisingly hard to protect the dragon Empress and the feldrok Prince.

The faormyr stalks into view, all but glowing in the dark because of her powerful mana and the distinct, iridescent color-shifting her sharmelkolle scales go through in response to mana present around her. She is being cautious of the two dragons and Fal, since all three of them represent different kinds of threats to her. She views Ryuogriar, Reignleif, and Geirahoel as rivals, but has promised not to aggressively harm them.

The faormyr lets out a low, fluttering sound that reminds Daniel of a cat more than a reptile, since it has a sort of ‘eh-eh-eh-eh’ type of call. Daniel smiles and clicks his tongue as softly as he can. Dragons have sharp instincts, particularly for the sparking sound of draconic pilot flames, but that doesn’t mean every clicking or clacking sound in the world piques their attention.

Thankfully, Ryuogriar and Emerald seem to be resting, still, and Daniel carefully pats the floor in front of him again, since his legs are currently crossed to relax his knees a bit, and keep Emerald’s and Ryuogriar’s horns from bumping into each other.

The powerful archfiend takes a seat on the floor in front of him, and she finally makes a sound Daniel wasn’t sure he’d ever hear.

“Da-new.”

It startles him for a moment, though he only lifts his head and widens his eyes. He’s not sure he truly heard it, because he wouldn’t be surprised if the Abyssal Feldrok is trying to mess with him again. But, her mouth moved, and it was her voice.

“Daniel,” corrects the mechanic gently. He points at himself while keeping Fal stable, “Daniel.” He then points at her, saying, “Yaulwembor.”

The ancient draconic being repeats, “Da-new,” as she points at him.

He smiles. Close enough, I guess. At least it’s progress. I’d love to ask her how, but it’ll have to wait.

Yaulwembor leans close, studying Fal for a moment, and Daniel watches cautiously. Please don’t want to hold him, Yaulwembor. I don’t know if he’ll tolerate it. I’m the only one who’s truly immune, it seems.

To him, Fal’s worst cries are painful, but nothing more than the shrieking of an infant with the volume of a ship’s horn, though without the deep pitch, of course. For anyone else, though, they are distinctly bombarded with nauseating levels of strange mana similar to the mana fire. Even if they can force themselves to tolerate direct exposure, as most of the team did to help fight the mana fire, it still wears on them heavily or drains their mana.

And, Fal has proven capable of mutating people into monsters, let alone the monsters that already exist. If Zuzia’s description of her first encounter with Sayrdarralouche is true, Fal can even reanimate corpses with his power, and ‘awaken’ the mana-galvanized beings from range.

He is already a living superweapon, and Daniel has pondered more than once since finding Fal what the little feldrok’s future is going to be like, considering how powerful Hekate is, and the traumas she keeps buried with her outgoing innocence.

The faormyr leans back to resume simply sitting, doing her best to emulate Daniel’s cross-legged posture, though her tail gets in the way, and her legs are structured differently enough that she decides to sit on her left hip instead to stretch her legs and tail out to the side. She looks directly at Daniel, but points at Fal as she makes a very low growl, closer to an alligator than the cat-like sound she made a moment ago.

Daniel places his hand on his chest and bows, wishing he could just talk to her. But, she’s thankfully rather patient, since it seems she has survived millennia with no real way to find a suitable mate without being afraid he’d try to kill her in the process. If it was a lack of food, she might murder everyone present and devour them, but she seems to be content enough that the ‘nest’ is being made secure, and that everyone else is treating her better and better the more cooperative she is.

Both of them look up when the pitter-patter of small boots jogs towards them from the direction of the doorway, and Hekate’s golden eyes appear first as she jogs closer. She whispers, “Daniel?”

“I’m here, Hekate,” replies Daniel softly.

“Why is everyone else sleeping when you need the rest?”

The mechanic wants to laugh, but he resists. If anything, it helps that his energy is rather low, and the pain is starting to return, especially to his eye. Lucy, who was lazily hovering nearby, suddenly darts back into Daniel’s scarf, and Hekate makes a face when she sees it. The feldrok girl growls, “Why are you the one running, Lucy? I didn’t hurt Daniel…”

“Hekate, it’s alright. Did you finish what I asked?” It’s been a few hours, so it’s possible, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not done yet.

Hekate takes a breath and sighs to calm herself down, her big ears and tail reflecting every one of her emotions. “Yes!” replies the feldrok teen as she puts her hands on her hips. “Feel free to praise me.”

“I will, I will. But, let’s get Fal inside. Or rather, let me see it first…”

Hekate nods, “Right!” She’s keeping her voice quiet while Yaulwembor watches with her usual blank expression of not understanding the words being spoken. Emerald’s tail flicks lightly, but she seems to still be asleep, since she doesn’t move her head off of Daniel’s leg.

Meanwhile, Hekate activates a void bag and carefully extracts the creation she led the way on.

Daniel is silent as he looks at it.

The mechanic has had to make due with jury-rigged temporary repairs on equipment that can tolerate imperfect components at one of the manufacturing plants he worked at. It usually involved replacements of steam pipe insulation with whatever was available and could withstand the heat, redirecting water flow from leaks, or quickly running low-voltage communication wires to finish a cycle in progress while proper feeding of the permanent replacement cable is performed.

Daniel feels almost like he’ll have to jury-rig Hekate’s creation just to make it hold together, let alone shield everyone from a living nuclear reactor when he decides to go supercritical.

The main body of the vessel is made of a moderately-sized crate, but a person could be forgiven for not realizing that because it looks like the mechanical or armoring equivalent to a person being tarred and feathered.

Loose plates of all shapes and sizes dangle somewhat loosely on the outside, overlapping mostly like scale-mail armor. She indeed used the mention of Floria’s mana absorption and storage collar necklace, and cobbled together every possible carbon plate, graphite crystal, and even a few diamonds to fill in gaps.

Beneath the line-hanging scale-mail are a few pieces of mithril armor, which can be reshaped, unlike sharmelkolle, but has not been.

And, perhaps something particularly notable that makes Daniel reconsider a few of his life choices is the crate’s lid. It is similarly heavily armored, and would take a great deal of strength to lift, either to withdraw Fal, or to place him inside.

Just looking at it gives Daniel a bit of claustrophobia, even if it’s much larger than a bassinet or modern baby carrier would be, which is what he had envisioned.

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But, never to be a fool without some merit, there are distinctly noticeable mana conduction cables already attached to the crate.

Hekate is completely proud of herself, indicated by her tail wagging back and forth as she holds her head high with her eyes closed and a triumphant grin across her lips.

The human sighs lightly, and he replies, “We can make it work.”

“What’s wrong with it?” asks Hekate, her ears and tail instantly drooping as she looks at him, speaking more loudly this time.

Ryuogriar hums, stirring lightly and opening her eyes. She notices Hekate and the large crate, and she wearily sits up as Hekate apologizes, “Sorry, Ryuo…”

“No, no… I’m…” The dragon Empress yawns, noticing Yaulwembor as well. She greets the faormyr with a gentle nod of her head. “Yaulwembor.”

Yaulwembor gives a low warble, acknowledging the greeting, but capable of exactly one word that Daniel wants to talk about, but it feels like a million things are piled on top of him at present.

Ryuogriar then turns to Hekate, sitting all the way up to scoot closer to Daniel and lean on his shoulder. “Is that Fal’s news bed?” asks the dragon cautiously.

“Yes! And, Daniel is being a butt.”

“I didn’t say anything!” complains Daniel, still trying to keep his own volume under control, which isn’t hard, since his voice is still in tatters. And, now that he thinks about it, his throat is starting to itch more noticeably.

“I said it’ll work. Hopefully. More importantly right now… Has Doephluev… finished more of that medicine?”

“The laugur medicine?” asks Hekate, cocking her head to the side, which, as always, is amplified in cuteness by her triangular fox ears flopping slightly with the motion.

“Are you in pain, Mukori?” The dragon reaches towards his cheek, but hesitates, realizing that, if his pain is coming back, there’s no way he’ll be able to tolerate it being touched now.

“It’s… not bad yet. But, I think it’s wearing off…”

Hekate crosses her arms. “Only if you tell me I did a good job…”

“You did a very good job, Sweetpea,” replies Daniel without even letting her finish. “It’s just… not a very pretty job. Which is okay.”

Hekate scowls at him as her ears fold back, keeping her arms crossed. Her amber-colored eyes burn in the darkness, reminding Daniel only a little of the fiery molten gaze of the Abyssal Feldrok. A momentary chill crawls up Daniel’s spine only at the recognition. If anything, it’s a loss of blood-pressure, like a momentary bout of anemia. Damn it… Is this from the medicine?

The mechanic does his best to hide his deteriorating condition, putting on a smile. “We’ll just blame the kobolds if it doesn’t work,” jokes the mechanic.

For a moment, Hekate’s ears lift back up, but then fold back down as her scowl turns more sarcastic. “That’s mean, you butt. They’re future noble ladies of my Fievegal. And, we had a nice little chat about you.”

“Uh… Oh. Fair… fair enough.” Daniel is surprised. He’s not sure what he should say about it, but it’s a decision Hekate came to on her own. He has no objections, though he knows they probably need to be a little careful about the rampant nepotism they’ve been showing, as well as the fact that the kobolds are schemers. They don’t seem to be as malicious as Doephluev can be, but they are like a certain mouse given a single cookie. Daniel doesn’t mind if Hekate is the one giving out the metaphorical cookies, but he does plan to keep an eye on them at least a little.

The young Empress’s expression softens some more. “I’ll go find out what’s taking Doephluev so long.”

Ryuogriar pets Daniel’s left cheek, saying, “Go with her. I got enough rest, and if Hekate’s hard work pays off, we can relax a little anyway. I’ll keep you informed, Mukori.”

The mechanic looks down at Fal, and Hekate adds, “Look! I even made it large enough for when Fal gets bigger.” She heaves the lid open, which she actually had the foresight to make it hinged in the middle as two halves, but it’s clear that, without her mana-enhanced feldrok strength, it would not be easy to open for either side of an emergency need to open it.

“Let us hope little Fal’s crying fits reduce long before that size is needed,” teases Ryuogriar.

Hekate pouts a little, and she adds quietly, but defensively, “We were in a hurry, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Daniel gently nudges Emerald, who is surprisingly still asleep… or she’s acting like it. She flinches the moment his hand touches her, and she awkwardly slides off of Daniel before sitting up on her knees.

“My apolgies…” murmurs the green dragon.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” asks Hekate. “Why?” She narrows her eyes, flipping her suspicious gaze back and forth between her jade-colored elder and her cherished human companion.”

“I… I didn’t want to cause a misunderstanding… but I didn’t know how to extricate myself…” The dragon quickly sits up, saying urgently, “I don’t feel anything for his Grace, your Greatness. I have no desire to become intimate with the Emperor.”

“Man… shot down right to my face…” jokes Daniel. Emerald shrinks a little, and he does feel bad that he can’t wink at her. She’s on his right side, meaning he can’t easily look at her ‘subtly’ right now.

But, now that he’s free, he gently offers Fal over to Ryuogriar, and she gingerly takes the baby from his arms, allowing Daniel to wearily climb to his feet, with Hekate closing the distance to help him up. He is significantly taller than Hekate, but she is able to keep him balanced against the donation pillar.

Ryuogriar is able to stand up much more easily, even holding Fal, since her legs aren’t even remotely asleep, and she got a decent nap to refresh her a bit.

The platinum Dragon Empress inspects the interior of the makeshift bassinet for Fal, and she notices a bunch of pillows and cushions inside, as well as a nice blanket. Hekate says sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure Fal is comfy at least.”

“Yes, this will do the job,” replies Ryuogriar sincerely. “Thank you, sweet Hekate.” Ryuogriar leans down and kisses Hekate’s forehead, and the feldrok girl blushes as her ears fold back cutely. Her tail sways back and forth a little quickly, giddy from the praise.

The dragon carefully places Fal inside the box, and Emerald asks the question Daniel has been thinking. “So… does the lid have to be closed for it to work? Because… I’m not sure… how I feel about that.”

Daniel glances at her, and their eyes meet momentarily in solidarity.

Hekate replies, “It can’t be any worse than being in an egg, right? Fal’s still a little baby, so I thought it might be fine.” She points at Emerald, saying seriously, “If you don’t like it, then you come up with a better design.”

“No, no, you’re right, your Greatness. Forgive me. Though… I’d ask that we try to minimize closing him in, just in case.”

Daniel adds, “I agree with Emerald. He’s small, but if he ends up left inside for too long, he could use up all of the air, or he might slip into a coma or something and we won’t notice.”

“That’s why I made the lid like this,” replies the ravenette as she pats the oversized ‘bed’.

Daniel reaches inside and pets Fal’s belly, and his eyes finally open, looking around as he makes a few squeaks and yips. “Hang in there, our little Star. It’s not because we don’t love you, but because we want to help you live safely.”

Fal’s little paws, which are closer and closer to being developed enough to clasp at things properly with every day that passes, squirm as he coos and murmurs, reaching for Daniel.

“Alright, Little Boy. Just for a little bit.” Daniel carefully picks Fal back up, cradling him. He asks, “Anyone got a bottle?”

“I have the most natural-...” starts Ryuogriar teasingly as she tugs at the deep cut of her dress next to a painted-on recreation of the contract mark that originally bound her to Daniel, and which has smeared and faded from neglect over the last few days.

Daniel holds his hand up to stop her, saying, “That’s fine, but I was hoping to let you go rest…”

“You need it more than anyone!” complains Hekate. She reaches for Fal and waves her hands in a ‘gimme’ manner, and Daniel reluctantly hands the baby feldrok over. The ravenette says seriously to Ryuogriar, “Hand over a bottle and take Daniel to his room immediately, since he’ll listen to you.”

Emerald offers, “I’ll stay with his Highness, your Greatness, your Graces. You were going to find Empress Doephluev to ask about the medicine for his Grace, yes?” The green dragon has a point, and the talk of Hekate’s project distracted her. Daniel’s hand is noticeably tight as he supports himself on the hastily-created shielded crib.

“Are you sure?” asks Hekate cautiously.

“Yes, your Greatness. I apologize if I behaved as though I am too familiar with his Grace, but I was able to rest well for a few hours thanks to him. I am confident I can at least watch over his Highness while he’s in this cradle. And… if it’s not too cowardly of me to admit, I am not so heroic as to remain here if I feel I am in danger while Prince Fal is already in your bassinet. I will retreat and summon aid if I cannot handle it. And, my estimation of what I can handle is very low.” She scratches her cheek a little bashfully, and Hekate notices the missing finger on the green dragon’s hand.

Even the naive teenage Empress can tell the verdant dragon is lying, but Hekate decides not to say anything. She doesn’t know what the right answer is, but she won’t leave Emerald alone with Fal for long.

It’s better to avoid such situations to begin with, if they can.

***

“What do we have?” asks Yaulander as he walks into the Ministry of Magic in the western part of his territory near the base of the mountains. The jingling of beaded jewelry follows him as a woman from deep in the southeastern region of the continent does her best to keep up with him. She has a deep caramel-colored tanned skin tone with elf-like ears, but with her dark hair braided in a long, single braid. She is a gift from one of the Sykkanas in a nation the Empire has a minimal amount of contact with due to how far away they are. It’s primarily a mountainous region, though there is a massive desert and a few distinctly large oases where much of the population is distributed.

Zuzia follows them both into the room, her face bandaged and bruises all over her arms and legs from the attack.

Nesparu pel Contarro bows, answering as the deputy left to manage the mages studying the captured golem.

“If these gentlemen are to be believed, your Majesty, it is an ancient form of golem-craft that powered this shell. We’ve scoured the area to make sure every piece was retrieved, but the best efforts have been unable to power the golem body or extract much information from it.”

“If it’s so ancient, why is it providing modern issues?” asks the Grand Prince as he looks at the Archmagus, who serves as director of the Imperial Institute of Magery. “Archmagus Baelok? You’re an elf, aren’t you? Are you saying we are less advanced than ancient savages?”

Baelok wears a stony expression, but he is not without fear. He was born to a slave hundreds of years ago, and because his father was human, he ages more noticeably than a full-blooded elf, even if he has long out-lived his sire, and has several centuries more to live if fate allows it.

“Your Majesty, golemcraft is… difficult for anyone but the most powerful mages to begin with. And, from what I can discern, this golem pre-dates the Empire. More specifically, the conquest that united the Empire under the great Strylaph and Lindenmorg families.”

Yaulander studies him for a moment as the far-eastern pseudo-elven woman, whose name is Mri’kala’xen, continues casting her healing magic on him quietly. Her craft requires painting symbols on his skin, which he has allowed, so long as she doesn’t get in his way. Because it’s a slow process, and she has to paint a new symbol every hour or so as she continuously chants a spell, he stipulated that he must still be free to continue his business as usual, or she’s far less useful than the regular healers. Most of said healers are working to try to save Baumalde’s life, as well as the Strylaph knights that fell in the brutal battle with this golem, so he decided to give his new gift a chance to prove herself more than simply exotic eye candy.

The blond man shifts his gaze to her when she starts painting with the clear liquid on his left arm. The liquid leaves a cool feeling on his skin, but she’s staying out of his way, and her whispering to continuously chant isn’t disrupting the conversation since it’s so quiet.

Baelok adds when Yaulander has yet to reply, “Because of the difficulty for limited application, normally, it is likely it was faded from history because no one prioritized it, your Majesty.”

Yaulander sighs as he returns his gaze ahead of him. “First, Baumalde dances around the theory he claimed to be an expert on, and now you’re telling me that you can’t do anything with the golem that was sent to assassinate me. Can you at least prove that it came from the Fievegal?”

“Definitively?” asks the archmagus, and Yaulander narrows his eyes in irritation.

Baelok clears his throat, clarifying, “Without knowing the exact spell that was used to create and control it, this is little more than forged armor that can fit no living being, your Majesty. If it matches the appearance of the golems being used regularly by the Fievegal, an argument can be made, but it’s clear weapons are not the only area in where the Fievegal has outpaced its rivals.”

Yaulander sighs, using his right hand to massage his temples. He growls, “And, I got the useless otherworlder. Isn’t that right, Rat?”

Zuzia replies quietly, “Sure, your Majesty…”

“Perhaps you can answer me this, Archmagus Baelok…”

“I shall do my best, your Majesty…” replies the elderly-looking sage.

“How would a goblin learn a spell that no one else on this side of the mountains seems capable of defining?”

Everyone present is completely silent, including Baelok’s students and subordinates gathered behind him. Nesparu knows the answer is not for him to fish for, since the silence is telling.

The Grand Zenkon Empire was the economic and military authority of the eastern half of the continent. Given enough time and the lack of the Demon Covenant’s eastward invasion, the GZE would likely have continued to expand peacefully or forcefully, such that the only holdouts would have likely been Mattarglos and several of the more tribal territories to the further east that uphold a strong religious faith and have many, many zealous fighters in battle willing to sacrifice themselves in a heartbeat for a kind of curse that is devastating to enemy armies.

“A goblin,” reiterates Yaulander. “Worse, I can’t seem to identify her original benefactor, and the witless fool Baumalde claimed credit for the achievement he was now clearly an assistant and nothing more for. Any ideas who that benefactor could be? How many mages on this continent would be stronger than you, Archmagus Baelok? How about the Silent Sage you keep hidden away? What of the elven sorcerer Serrentuk?”

Nesparu replies quietly, “Your Majesty, Serrentuk was bound to the Contarro family far longer than any goblin could ever survive…”

“Assuming she is only a goblin…” retorts the Grand Prince as if he was waiting for it.

Again, all of the mages are quiet, since Ahok isn’t a ‘legend’, by any stretch, but she is infamous in the mage circles for being a goblin who rose to the rank of Court Magic Artisan in Mornistae.

Yaulander then says more sincerely, “I don’t care about the current hang ups nearly as much as the shadow the Empire has suddenly been revealed to be dwelling in. Crops can’t grow in the shade of a tall tree, even if it is already dead and rotting. So, what I want to know is what we need to correct this deficiency. Resources? Are there some sort of newly discovered gems? Are there tomes that need to be acquired? Sorcerers that need to be invited to the Empire? Sacred pools that need to be purchased or captured? An ancient spirit that needs to be appeased? Our enemies are growing in strength while it feels like we are standing still. If we do nothing, the very identity of the Empire will be at risk.”

He looks down at his arm again. Mri’kala’xen has her hands spread close to and around Yaulander’s bicep. She seems to be channeling magic this way, and it’s creating a warm feeling that has displaced the cool feeling of the liquid as she was painting it on. If nothing else, he can’t fault her for making it seem like her supposed healing magic is doing something. She came at the best price, so Yaulander doesn’t really have any complaints.

When he makes to leave though, the archmagus seems to disagree.

The Grand Prince states, “That’s where we’re at, so consider this your reminder of what we’re up against and find a way to break through these barriers. I look forward to timely good news.” He states bluntly, “We’re moving…”

“Yes, your Majesty,” replies the pseudo-elven woman with a silky voice that is easy to hear, in spite of barely rising above a whisper. She withdraws her hands, but her chanting doesn’t stop, and the warm feeling remains noticeable, but comfortable.

Just as the Grand Prince is turning away, the half-elf Archmagus speaks up. “Your Majesty, if… I may…”

“What is it?”

“It’s… about…” Baelok looks at Mri’kala’xen, unsure how to word it.

“I have no time for games, Baelok. Speak or hold your peace, but do not waste my time.”

“Apologies, your Majesty. But… I would recommend you use caution around a person of her… species.”

Yaulander glances at the caramel-skinned healer bound to him. She doesn’t have an abundance of magical power of her own, and he already ‘verified’ her authenticity through a very specific contact of his own. Naturally, he has far more secrets than any of these people combined, and the reason they have no idea is exactly that. Yaulander trusts people exactly as far as they are useful to him; no more, no less. He doesn’t trust Mri’kala’xen with actual secrets, and he knows she can be trusted more than most because she truly is contracted to him through magic, now layered over with the specific geis that he is bound by as well. But, as his subordinate, he can activate the underlying hidden spell for her, while his can only be activated by the friar of fire or the Ancient One itself.

“You know something about Mri’kala’xen?” asks the blond human curiously, but with a large dose of skepticism.

“Only that she bears the traits of an archoneldwyn, your Majesty. They are not to be trusted. Assassins, thieves, and witches, the lot of them.”

For her part, Mri’kala’xen is looking down, trembling slightly. She is doing her best to keep her eyes closed and focus on chanting her endless spell, but she is hearing the conversation loud and clear.

“If any or all of those things prove useful to me, I don’t see how that’s a problem,” replies the Grand Prince bluntly. “But, she has been carefully inspected. If she was so effective at anything like that, I doubt she would have been given as a gift without any hidden spells, curses, or poisons. Especially so openly by a Sykkana of the Peypaboa Empire of the far east.”

Baelok bows his head. “Of course, your Majesty. Your wisdom is beyond my own. Still, I caution you not to be alone with her. Yours is a precious existence to this Empire needed for us to progress forward.”

“Mind your work for now, Archmagus. Your advice is noted.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

Yaulander leads, followed by Mri’kala’xen and Zuzia. One is dressed in rags and looks like she narrowly escaped death, and the other could be mistaken for an exotic aristocrat before the slave that she is. But, she is attractive, and it seemed a shame to discard her clothing when he can use her to demonstrate the breadth of his power over grace and strength. His guards follow at their normal distance, and though he ponders Baelok’s words, he doubts a true-blood elf could overcome the geis provided by the power of the Ancient One.

There are piles of bones that belonged to individuals who were powerful in life who all met the same fate in an instant when the geis was activated.

There are no survivors.

At least, not yet.

***