Allanther
patreon
Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 44
🕑 Added 2021-12-14 00:17:48 +0000 UTCThe [Lesser Hydra] twisted and curled in useless anger against the tight grip of my 5th Tier elemental. The spikes on my elemental’s tentacles scraped away deep gouges on the iridescent scales of the monster. Its regeneration was quick to replace the flesh even though the scales took longer to regrow. I watched on with my mind adrift, even as the creature was pinned against the wall of the plateau, and slowly brought up.
Three other hydras coiled beneath, snapping up at either it or its captor, and several of Froom’s mages were practicing flame and earth magics from the tome I had spread. These three were resting from their various travels across the country, and the others were scheduled to return today. I paid them no mind, as I found myself in a daze of recollecting.
One of the heads of the hydra had a pinkish tone to the scales that reminded me of a rogue I had adventured into my first dungeon with. I had been in the middle of the 3rd Tier, a [Pyromancer] working to learn the other elements and she had been at the top of the 3rd ready to ascend to the 4th Tier. I had been a new addition to the party, an uncertain one for them, and was only accepted because of my military accolades. In hindsight, my arrogance from back then ashamed me now. They had been doing me a favor and my inflated pride from war victories had nearly spoiled it.
The woman, I can’t recall her name now, and it bothered me. I hadn’t written her into my Book of the Dead because we parted ways a year later. I did remember there was a small pink viper’s head stitched into the breast of her tunic, and that image stuck with me. Mostly because I had overestimated my capabilities and nearly died. She was the one who pulled me away from certain death at the bottom of a dungeon trap. A simple pitfall with stone spikes at the bottom. A foolish oversight that I hadn’t even known to look for.
Saving my life grew into a whirlwind romance, one highlighted by drunken arguments and impassioned reconciling. There weren’t many romantic relationships in my life. Dalliances, certainly. Yet, relationships I learned to shun after a while, as they aged and I didn’t. I could count the number of them I had in less than two hands—but I couldn’t remember her name.
It was a slight against her and what little we had together, that I couldn’t. A memory that resurfaced that had been long at rest. I wondered if I would eventually forget Loralie’s name, too. I might. Part of me hoped I would. Another part of me spoke of greater culpability. That if I had enacted my vengeance against the king earlier, then she might still be alive today. That it had been a mistake to hold my wrath after Walker’s death—his murder.
My feelings were more complicated than that. A few moments ago, one of the lads that served as a messenger had come by to let me know that Leslie’s group was on their way up the plateau. The village was hosting a celebration of their success, and a feast was being prepared in my kitchens. How was I to look Mena in the eye knowing that Walker’s death didn’t move me to action but Loralie’s did? That was an uncomfortable truth I wasn’t ready to deal with myself, let alone discuss with others.
I shook my head and tried to dismiss the heavy melancholy that enwrapped me, as the hydra grew closer. This was the second I’d captured this week – the first had already been reduced to reagents in preparation for testing. This, well this one was to see if hydra meat was tasty. What better time than a feast to learn? Even if it didn’t, it should silence some of Kine’s complaints on food rationing. I told them to kill the wolves, yet every idiot villager wanted a pet. Morale doesn’t matter when there’s no more food on the table, no does it?
The magic being cast beside me stopped as the hydra beneath ceased moving. The eyes of the young mages turned to the one I captured with a hatred that could be seen and understood by all.
“No,” I answered their unasked question. Even if the hydra was large enough to feed the entire village, that wasn’t the entirety of this investigation. If there was a difference in taste between an older snakehead and a newly regenerated one, I wanted to know. Was the meat softer? More tender? Was the older tougher or gamier? If this monster could be eaten, these questions were the ones that came next. Then I paused. Why should I do the work here?
“You may each remove a head in a fashion that leaves only one head remaining. I want you to document which spells were used on which parts of this thing and to what effect. Consider this an exercise in precision and record-keeping.” I turned away from their savage grins and walked towards my tower.
I doubted that any who had seen the monsters now would bemoan their deaths. Maybe that insane alchemist. He’d probably want to breed them as materials for—I paused in my steps, and withdrew the tome I wrote new experiment ideas in. I glanced around quickly to ensure no one could read it and quickly wrote ‘If edible - breed hydra for maximum taste’ into the line.
I glanced up at the series of other possible experiments to see if there were any that caught my eye and could be completed before the new heroes arrived and scowled. ‘Teach mushroom men magic – breed magical assistants?’ was scratched away in annoyance. The things had proven themselves too stupid for that, after creating some kind of cult that required them to draw and quarter each other instead of whatever their normal breeding process was.
It was hours later and evening had set by the time the heroes arrived. I’d been hearing loud cheering from the villagers for nearly an hour and seen the illusionary spells shot into the night by Froom’s mages. Their victory over the Mirktallean priests had earned them this much and more – many of the villagers were refugees, orphans, or former slaves that had suffered because of the war. Even I felt a proud sense of satisfaction knowing that those cursed slave-priests had been so greatly humbled.
I stood between my chair and the table was laden with food when the door was opened. Fentworth, my dutiful seneschal, entered first and bowed.
“My lord [Wizard] Fargus, I present to you the Heroes of Broken Collars. First, may I present the 5th Tier [God-slayer Magus], Leslie Freedom.”
Leslie, who had been my assistant and might still be, entered with her head held high. She had been a young lady with short, curly black hair when I first met her, but had changed considerably. Her young features were thinned and more elegant, her robes were of considerable design and enchantment, and her hair had been prepared as if she were nobility. At the 5th Tier now, and in such an unusual class, she certainly should be. More than that, her body radiated a magical power that seemed to make the air itself crackle. She bowed, not as low as an assistant, but low enough to honor me before stepping aside.
I returned her bow with one of my own, equaling her depth exactly. While I had a current need for assistants, at her tier now, I didn’t want her as one. She would have her own experiments and designs, things that I wanted to part in helping her with – though I would be more than happy to discuss any results with her.
“Presenting the 5th Tier [Elemental Scourge], Mena Downsright.”
Downsright? I hadn’t heard of that surname before and wondered why she chose it. Given her sense of humor, I had some cautious suspicions it was an unruly bit of humor that stuck longer than she expected. Mena, in a new suit of armor that would make any knight I knew jealous, walked in with the grace of a dullard. Her swaggering steps were punctuated with a stagger and a hiccup. Drunkenly, she saluted, “Hey boss!”
I wanted to give her a hard time, showing back up at the tower in such a slovenly state, but I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw her smile. It was the kind of infectious, heartfelt smile that one doesn’t simply ignore, and I had to return it.
Rather than step aside, she walked forward and heaved herself into one of the stone chairs with a clang. Both Fentworth, Leslie, and I watched her as she began to devour the food. I shared a glance of understanding with Leslie and turned to Fentworth just in time to see Meathead walk in.
“Hiya Boss!” He called, just as happy as Mena, yet without the drunkenness needed. Without care for protocol or ceremony, he sat down beside Mena and began to eat as well. I bit back a small sigh and glanced at the doorway. As I feared, the next to enter didn’t adhere to ceremony either. A smiling Tond, with an arm around a certain [Pyromancer] named Diedre that had run away after the battle of Gold Castle, strutted in like a rooster. On the stairs to the kitchens, I heard a loud growl, and I looked over to see a very unhappy Chelsea standing next to her son Rolf.
Tond didn’t look much different from before, besides a sturdier longbow and new confidence. I couldn’t say the same for Diedre. She now had silver hair that seemed to burn, a physical manifestation of a 5th Tier class.
Tond, though, either ignored the woman or didn’t hear her as he bowed low. “Lord Fargus, may I present to you—”
“I know who she is Tond. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” I said with a contained smile. I was still a bit cross with how she had simply vanished.
She at least had the tactfulness to look embarrassed, “Yes, [Wizard] Fargus, I am ashamed that I left in the way I did, but the circumstances gave me no other options. I would like to tell you the tale, should you wish to hear it.”
“She got caught by slavers. We saw her on the journey and set her free,” Tond said offhandedly as he winked at the silver-haired woman under his arm. Diedre pouted but said little else. I gave a nod in answer and they stood to the side.
The next to enter was the Sister of Elora, whom Fentworth announced as a [High-Priestess] Shaelra, who bowed and followed all the normal courtesies of the court. I couldn’t help but feel annoyed that only two out of the six followed the correct manner of attendance, but, based on their new classes, it was no longer my place to instruct them.
I motioned for the standing four to sit and straightened my robes to sit, but Fentworth coughed into his hand. I glanced up, surprised there was another member of their party, and saw someone completely unexpected.
“You!” I snarled and pointed, letting fly a quick blast of lightning.
Comments
Augustus
I wonder who it is.
Jason Hornbuckle
Cliffhanger!
