Wizardly Dude
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[EOE] (240) 4.19. Heavy is the Crown
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 16:00:09 +0000 UTCIt had been four days since the infernals had lost both their leader and their entire fragment, and Vin could practically feel the invisible layer of melancholy hovering over all their heads as he entered their camp. The infernals were staying in the overflow camp that had originally been temporary housing for the third wavers while Terra was being built up by Witherson and her Crafters, but those buildings hadn’t been designed for long-time use, and many of the thin stone walls he’d helped make himself were already showing signs of wear.
It didn’t take long before he spotted someone he recognized, and Vin made a quick beeline for the forlorn infernal sitting on the edge of the encampment.
“Malzar!” he said, startling the boy out of his internal thoughts. “How are you holding up?”
Malzar was one of Madam Trebella’s apprentice Warlocks, an infernal with gold and black eyes capable of seeing traces of magic far too miniscule for even someone with Vin’s own impressive magic attribute. Besides the eyes, his bright red skin was covered in its own unique manner of jagged black lines just like the rest of his people, and his horns and claws were clearly well taken care of. Hearing his name, the young infernal looked up at him.
“Vin..?” he asked, as if surprised to find him suddenly standing before him. “Where have you been?! Everything’s gone… The manor, our world, Madam Trebella… It’s all gone! You brought us over here and then just took off!”
“I’m sorry Malzar, but there wasn’t much more I could do after rescuing your people from the Underside and bringing you all here,” Vin said, realizing the boy was just using him as an outlet for his misplaced anger. “I left you in Vanessa’s capable hands. She’s an Ambassador, she knows what she’s doing. Have there been any problems with the Earthers?”
“No,” Malzar sighed, his sudden burst of anger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He looked more exhausted than anything, and Vin couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he’d slept had been. “No, not from them. Most of them stay far away from us. There was a minor incident in the beginning, but Vanessa got some of your combat classes involved, and we haven’t seen the man again since.”
“Have you guys picked a new leader since Madam Trebella left?”
“Not exactly…” Malzar said slowly, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue. “There’s a bit of a problem on that front. Our village has always been led by a council of Witches and Warlocks. Three is generally the minimum, the fact that Madam Trebella was leading by herself was due to the emergency that was our world getting dragged over to Edregon, and then Master Morvas got himself killed alongside three of the best students. There’s only one Warlock left that’s prestiged and technically has the knowledge and ability to become the new leader.”
“Xaril,” Vin guessed, his stomach dropping as Malzar nodded. “I can’t say I like him all that much, but he’s certainly got the skills. What’s the problem?”
“Xaril refuses to take the position,” Malzar explained. “He doesn’t want to deal with the struggles of leadership, and it doesn’t matter how much pressure people try and put on him to take up the mantle. You know how he is, he’s basically immune to stuff like that.”
“No kidding…” Vin thought back to his brief interactions with Xaril. The Warlock had zero interest in other people, and he wanted nothing more than to read and study rituals all day. It would be one thing if he simply ignored others, but frankly, he was rather rude about doing so as well. Vin wasn’t surprised in the slightest to hear that Xaril was able to easily shrug off the desires of the rest of his people.
However, as annoying as he found the infernal, he had to admit this was one area he happened to agree with him.
“Malzar, it’s not fair to try and shove something like that onto the shoulders of someone who doesn’t even want it,” he tried to explain. “I know your people have your rules and traditions, but I have to agree with Xaril on this one. The position of leader should go to someone who actually wants it.”
“But joining the council is supposed to be the greatest thing any Witch or Warlock can hope to accomplish!” Malzar argued, seemingly unable to wrap his head around the thought of not accepting such a position.
“Would you take it if offered?” Vin asked, seeing the young infernal flinch at the question. “I seem to recall you telling me a while back that you didn’t even want to become a Warlock, and only did it because you were born with golden eyes and had to. I thought you wanted to go out and see what else the world had to offer you?”
“That’s different. I’m not nearly as talented as Xaril,” Malzar argued weakly. “I’d never be offered a position on the council in the first place, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, deciding he’d tormented the boy enough. “Let me go check in with some of the others. I’ll see if there’s any way I can help.”
Leaving Malzar to his thoughts once more, Vin wandered through the camp, nodding at a few of the infernals he recognized. He hadn’t made too many connections with them like Shia had, but they’d spent three days within their village, and he recognized a good handful of people. Finally, he spotted the woman he was looking for the same moment she laid her silver eyes on him.
“Vin!” Agne called out, wiping the dirt off her hands as she got to her feet and ran over to him. It looked as though she was already hard at work trying to get her garden back up and running, and Vin could only grunt as she threw her arms around him and squeezed. “It’s good to see you again! How are you?”
“I think I should be the one asking you that!” he managed, struggling to breathe. Finally, Agne released him, and he stumbled back a step. The Seamstress never failed to surprise him with her strength. “How are you holding up?”
“Oh, you know me. Tough as a rock and happy in whatever pile of dirt I’m tossed onto,” Agne said, planting her dirty hands on her hips and looking him up and down. “Have you been eating enough? You look even thinner than the last time I saw you!”
“That wasn’t even a week ago,” he argued, laughing at her frown. “I’m eating fine, I promise. I just heard about what’s going on from Malzar. Is everyone really trying to get Xaril of all people to become the new head Warlock?”
“Yep,” Agne sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “He’s made his stance on the matter quite clear, but we don’t really have any other options. The town needs a new council to lead it, and without Madam Trebella, Xaril is our next best choice. He was her top student by leaps and bounds, none of the others have even prestiged yet.”
“You can’t force someone into a position of leadership,” Vin pointed out, shocked to hear even Agne of all people harp on this. “Even if you somehow managed to make him leader, nothing would ever get done. He’d just spend all his time reading and ordering everyone to go away!”
“Oh sweetie, I know,” Agne said, gingerly taking his hand as if he were her own nephew, careful not to accidentally cut him with her dirt-encrusted claws. “I’d take the position myself if I could, but I don’t have the golden eyes. Our traditions are rather clear.”
“Don’t you think maybe now would be a good time to revisit those old traditions?” he asked, trying to get through to her. “Your entire world is gone. Even the small sliver that had been brought over to Edregon is no more. Your world is gone, your leadership is gone, and at the moment, it kinda feels as if your future is teetering on vanishing as well. Why does it have to be a Witch or Warlock in charge?”
“Only someone skilled in ritual magic can defend us,” Agne frowned, clearly not a fan of his line of thinking. “Like when the divine warrior came and attacked. If it hadn’t been for Madam Trebella’s rituals, we would have been slaughtered.”
“Your village and its isolation is no more as well though,” he pointed out, turning and gesturing toward the bustling town less than a half-mile away. “Like it or not, you’re part of Terra now. Unless you guys all decide to pick up and go elsewhere, for the first time ever, you have allies beyond other distant infernal villages. If you have us to rely on, do you really need your leader to be skilled in ritual magic?”
“I… suppose not,” Agne said, her brow scrunched up as if the thought had never occurred to her. “We’ve always been alone out in the middle of the wilderness, with only our brother and sister villages to rely on, some of them nearly hundreds of miles away. We’ve certainly never had others so close to home before.”
“If your people want, we can either turn this temporary housing into a separate town-offshoot like some of the Bands did, or we could welcome you into the town proper,” Vin explained, realizing he was actually getting through to her. Few things were harder to crack than a centuries old tradition, but he was pretty certain having their entire world and leadership ripped out from under them twice in only a few months had done most of the heavy lifting for him. “You don’t have to decide anything now, but maybe talk with some of the others and float the idea around. No matter what, you and I both know Xaril’s not going to take the position regardless of how much anyone begs or threatens.”
“You may have a point,” Agne sighed, suddenly looking her years for the first time since Vin had met her. “Alright, I’ll give it some thought and talk to the others. In exchange, you should go talk to Xaril anyway. Make sure he’s holding up okay. Madam Trebella had been the only one capable of getting him to open up, he won’t even speak to us.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he agreed. Receiving one more spine-creaking hug for the road, Vin followed her directions toward the other edge of camp, easily spotting Xaril sitting with his back against a tree and a few books lying beside him. Unsurprisingly, the infernal's eyes were locked on one of the books, and he didn’t acknowledge Vin in any way as he approached.
“Hey Xaril,” Vin tried, wondering how on Earth one ‘checked in on’ someone who refused to talk to others. “You holding up okay?”
Xaril turned the page in response, continuing to read as if he hadn’t heard him. More than a little annoyed, Vin wondered what Madam Trebella would do.
Probably take his books and threaten to set him on fire or something if he didn’t listen… Realizing attempting to mimic Madam Trebella was probably a bad idea, Vin decided to go with a slightly different approach.
“I actually know another guy who doesn’t like to talk to others and who lives on his own in a building filled to the brim with books,” he said, thinking about Kym and his solitary apartment. “The last time I was there, I’m pretty certain I counted at least a couple hundred books stacked around. All of which would be brand new to you, of course.”
That finally got Xaril’s attention, and the infernal actually paused his reading. His golden eyes gleamed as they peered up at him.
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you, hell, I’ll show you… But only if you do something for me.”
“I won’t take Madam Trebella’s place,” Xaril said curtly, his tone making it clear his stance on the matter.
“I’m not asking you to. I want you to actually talk to the other infernals instead of just ignoring everyone. They’re too rooted in tradition to realize that something needs to change. None of the Witches or Warlocks have the strength or the desire to lead what’s left of the village. I’ve already floated the idea, but I think hearing it come from you, the strongest of what’s left of the Warlocks, will go a long way.”
“I can do that,” Xaril nodded, marking his place in his book and getting to his feet. “Gather everyone up and I’ll tell them exactly that. Then you show me where the books are.”
Vin debated trying to explain that he would need to run Xaril through a more thorough screening first if he was planning on moving into Terra proper, and that he’d need to check in with Kym to see if the man was even alright with the thought of someone permanently invading his private sanctum, but he figured those discussions could come later. For now, getting the issue of the leaderless infernals solved was more important. Instead, he simply nodded.
“Alright, give me fifteen minutes. I’ll get everyone gathered up, and you guys can have your conversation.”
