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Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2021-09-01 19:31:14 +0000 UTCAs the guard opened the shining bronze gate for me as I headed outside. A late summer breeze brought with it a dry heat, though I could see the grey bottoms of distant storm clouds that might mean rain later. There weren’t many changes to the field in front of my tower. The markings of tents and temporary living space that refugees had used were still in place. It was much busier than I would have liked, with workers and soldiers moving about.
In the swamplands nearby my fifth-tier earth elemental, shaped like a giant octopus, waited patiently for new orders. The shadow of its head and tentacles lay about unmoving. For whatever reason, any of the folks who passed it by would place a hand on it as if they would be granted luck from the gesture.
I also frowned as I saw a single merchant waiting outside, his tall yellow wagon opened to show overpriced wares.
“Lord Fargus!” Honest Brom, the small man called. His enormous fake smile flashed. Honest Brom was an information broker in service to Baroness Nix, a mischievous-looking man with bowl-cut black hair and a clean-shaven face.
I forced a smile in his direction to return his greeting before I turned left. Loralie’s tower was in this direction, and I didn’t feel any desire to interact with him at the moment. That, of course, didn’t stop him from leaping forward to walk beside me.
“My lord, word has spread quickly of your amazing victory in Gold Castle,” he began. His head bobbed up and down as he spoke. Both his words and demeanor were designed in an attempt to ingratiate himself to me. “They say that Duchess Eiston holds a grand reward for you.”
I glanced to my side to see his eye alit with unspoken greed, no doubt picturing vast sums of coin or gems.
“Hmm,” I answered.
“I, myself, have been tasked by my lady to head north. Through the lands of Mirktal and into Furing to warn of the Pestilence. My cousin, Brom, will be holding my trade route while I am gone,” he turned and gestured back to his wagon.
I stopped in my walk and looked back to see another man that looked identical to Honest Brom.
Maybe a hair taller, though I couldn’t be sure without getting a closer look. He waved as he stood from one of the steps on his wagon, and I nodded in return. “I see. I wish you luck on your journey.”
“Oh, aye, it will be a perilous journey for a man such as myself. A harrowing adventure to escape the eyes of slavers and the grasp of matrons.
I can only hope that—”
I sighed as he kept talking, and turned back to walk towards Loralie’s tower. The man stepped to walk beside me, still chattering away like a squirrel, but I paid him no mind. The walls on the outside of my tower, a light blue marble that now matched the interior walls and walkways made me smile. The stone was of a much higher quality than the home I had in Sena City, and parts of it glimmered in the sun.
The doorway to Loralie’s tower approached, one that matched that of my own door, and I stopped just outside of it. Behind me, Honest Brom stopped walking as well and wrung his hands nervously.
“The necromancer lives here, don’t he? And the witches? And that demon-worshipper?”
I had nodded along to answer his questions until the last one. At that, I furrowed my brows in thought, “Demon-worshipper?” I didn’t recall anyone of that class. I tried to keep my distance from any gods or goddesses, as my heritage placed me at risk. According to the histories, the high elves had brought godly vengeance upon themselves and were cursed to be goblins, something I wanted no part of for myself. Summoning something from the heavens or hells might attract holy attention that I wasn’t comfortable with.
Of the occupants I knew. There were Loralie and Grena, two witches. Pyl, the necromancer. Fintak, the illusionist, though I was still unsure of his skill level. Bimly the totem-maker. While I didn’t believe any of them worshipped any demons. Maybe it was one of the new additions I had yet to meet? I stroked my beard and then waved the man away, not even bothering with a farewell.
I waited until he finished bowing and was well out of my sight before I knocked on the door. The tower was part of my own, so I could have simply entered, but politeness was worth a moment or two’s wait. The brass door squeaked open, the sound of metal on metal a little jarring, to reveal Bimly the totem-maker.
Bimly smiled and waved me inside with his scarred hands. The smile seemed authentic, as it rose to his brown eyes, as he spoke, “Master Nemon, please come in! I have just made tremendous progress on your tasking, and am surprised the runner made it to you so quickly.”
I shook my head, and answered with a smile of my own, “I have seen no runner today. Perhaps they will arrive later. You have made progress?”
“Indeed! I have been working together with Fintak, and we have something that might interest you.” He turned and excitedly started down the stairwell to our right. The first floor, a poor imitation of the first floor of my tower, hadn’t changed much and I only gave it a cursory glance before following. When a mage was this excited, it was usually something interesting.
The rooms under the tower held the laboratories for the different magic-users in residence. I understood that some rooms were shared and others had their own. The room that Bimly led me to was filled with various crafts. On the left, uncut logs the height of two men were stacked.
Behind in, a crate filled with moonstones sat with the top open. Those stones I had placed under Fintak’s care so that he could enchant them to hold the illusion of a rabbit that would entice the Hydra into attacking one another.
In the center, a raised stone bed with a long divot held a well-carved totem. The totem was cut in the shape of multiple serpents, all in various degrees of injure with the top carved into a snake’s head. The mouth was open and Fintak was busy concentrating on placing an enchanted moonstone into it. Fintak was a short man with a round body, though he normally wore the illusion of a handsome, muscular warrior. Now, though, he had dropped the illusion was seemed to be applying his full concentration to merging the enchanted moonstone with the totem.
Both Bimly and I stood to the side and watched in silence until he was done.
“Bimly! We did it! It appraises as—good morning Master Nemon.” Fintak had begun with an excited shout but quickly changed his tone to a more formal and reserved manner that he followed with a short bow.
I snorted at his gesture, dismissing the formality entirely, as I approached the totem with interest.
With mana sight, I saw the magic imbued into the wood in a way that would project pain to any serpent for several miles, and along that border the illusionary rabbit with run and jump.
It seemed an excellent trap. Any hydra that attacked the rabbit would feel attacked in turn. That would work excellently if there were another hydra nearby actually attacking it.
It should send them into a great frenzy until only one was left.
I nodded in satisfaction and glanced to the right of the room. There, several similar totems were leaning against the wall, though half appeared splintered and broken.
I turned back to the two nervous mages and smiled. “Excellent work! We will need as many of these as you can make. Is there a way to increase the range of the spell?”
Bimly and Fintak shared a glance before Bimly grimaced. A note of apology was in his voice as he answered, “I may be able to in the next, but at present, this is all I can manage. The illusions can go further.”
“No matter. This is still excellent work,” I said and clapped them both on the shoulder. “If you need more lumber, inform my seneschal and he will see to your needs. Now, I go to greet the new additions to the tower.
Who is able to provide introductions?”
Bimly moved away towards the newly completed totem as he spoke. “Fintak fought with them at Gold Castle. He would be better for that. I’ll begin work on the next totem.”
“This way, Master Fargus,” Fintak said as he began leading out of the laboratory and further down the tower.
Comments
Oliverthms
I can totally see a leading person like an king do something like it.
Amelgar
I'm kinda confused on why the royal family doesn't get someone to scry the Pestilence to confirm Fargus' claims before denouncing them.
Njordt
It's kinda funny in a special way: The king and his father are risking manpower, alliances, huge amount of money and other resources on that Fargus is allied or co-ops with the seafolk, when in reality Fargus is just doomsday prepping. Like the king would be sitting on his throne, perfecting the trap and how to either bind or kill Fergus, while the man in question is just checking out totems and bunny illusions.
