Allanther
patreon
Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 16
🕑 Added 2021-09-27 16:31:00 +0000 UTCThe several days of my trip back to my tower were ones of quiet contemplation. I stopped to raise more than fourteen different towns and villages along the way, but none took anywhere close to the power I used to lift the City of Eiston. I also raided three different dungeons for their dungeon cores.
Only one was of the same size as the one I had taken from the Mirktallean mage, but I could use the smaller to experiment with before the bigger.
The concept of having an additional source of mana to draw from while traveling appealed to me greatly. At the moment, traveling beyond the range that I could draw from my tower’s supply filled me with apprehension. I doubted that many magic-users had the strength to pierce my wards, yet if the mages in Sena City gathered in numbers and were commanded by the King, I could see the benefit of an extra safeguard.
It was a quiet sunset when I set foot back onto the top of my tower. Three people stood on the rooftop as I landed. One of the new guards was there, though I didn’t recognize the face, the uniform now matched my expectations. I nodded in response to their sharp salute and turned to the other two: Philipe and Drina.
My assistants looked happy, and I felt a little awkward having interrupted a romantic evening between the two of them. Before I landed, I had seen them standing and staring at the reflection of the sunset in my lake, Philipe’s hand on Drina’s hip, and her head on his shoulder. Both were young, and such things weren’t beyond my expectations.
In a way, I was happy for them. Yet, in another way, they reminded me too much of the bleak sorrow I had seen in Alred’s eyes a week before. The rigors of time and fate weren’t things they appeared to consider at the moment, and they bowed in greeting.
I nodded at them in return, and spoke quickly, “Carry on.”
I had already interrupted their moment, and any taskings I would give them could wait until tomorrow. With no small urgency, I walked down my tower steps to my room and quickly removed my trousers. The vile things had perpetuated too many hardships on my legs, and it would be good to do without them for a while. My robe was also changed from my traveling robe to a more comfortable one, though it was more the air on my legs that offered me relief.
I promised myself a bath later but knew that I might be lying to myself. The news of the Pestilence in the mountains had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I had hoped for more time. I had hoped for a way to organize a defense and evacuation in an orderly manner. If they came from the West instead of the south, then all the work I had done with totems and moonstones had been a waste of my time.
My seneschal was waiting for me when I left my quarters, and I bit back a sigh. My intentions were to check on my experiments first and deal with any other matters second, but the man’s presence told me there were things I would need to attend to first. It wasn’t truly a bother to me; I had hired him for this purpose after all.
“Mr. Aide,” I greeted him.
“Lord Fargus,” he answered with a quick bow, but then stood and remained silent.
“Is something the matter, Fentworth?” I inquired. I couldn’t recall him not alerting me to the duties of my position before now, but perhaps something significant had changed in the weeks I had been away.
“Indeed, milord. Two additional missives have arrived from the king. We experienced a delay in receiving them due to the elevation of your estate, so I am uncertain as to their timeliness.”
I waved my hand. I would read the king’s letters before I departed for my next round of land lifting, but they could wait for now. While I had been traveling, I had come across an idea that simply fascinated me to no end, and I needed an answer. What would happen to a petrified animal if I added more stone to their form? What if I moved their features? Could I remove and reattach a stone limb? The ideas and more had swirled around my head.
It was the manner of death for [Grand Magus] Ison that propelled the thoughts forward. It was likely too late to gather the petrified pieces of the Mirktallean mage and attempt to repair him, but I needed to know if I even could. From what I recall, his head was still intact. Even if I couldn’t find a stone arm or leg, if a broken statue that used to be a person could be repaired and unpetrified, then I may be able to replace his arm with another.
The was another spell that I had been considering as well, something that lingered in the back of my mind for nearly a century. With the population centers being lifted onto plateaus, it would be the perfect time to begin using it.
Yet, there was one matter that took precedence over even the urgency I felt for that experiment, “Has Lilly returned yet?”
My seneschal glanced at me for a small moment before looking towards the floor, “No, Lord Fargus, she has not.”
I felt disappointed in the answer. Not in my seneschal, he was simply the carrier of the news, no I was disappointed that Lilly hadn’t returned. A part of me wanted to think through all the conversations I’d had and the time I’d spent with the young lady and examine them to see if there were things I could have done better. Was her leaving a sign of personal failure? It was a possibility. I had spent an inordinate amount of time on my experiments when she could have done with greater oversight.
I did allow myself to sigh this time, if only a small one, before clapping the man on his shoulder. “She will return when she returns. If she is not back within a season, I shall send an apprentice to look for her. Hopefully, she’ll return before her suitors arrive.”
“Suitors, milord?” The butler looked at me in confusion.
I waved the matter away, “Oh yes, but I’ll tell you at another time. First, tell me of the ongoings of my tower. Are there any changes that I should be made aware of?”
We moved into my library and spoke for nearly an hour in regards to the different tasking of my tower’s residence, so that I could sit and sip wine while he spoke. The dwarves had requested a meeting to discuss the possibility of moving to one of the mountains, but I didn’t have the heart yet to inform them that those mountains were infested with giant ants. My other assistant, Orwell, was awaiting me on the first floor with something he deemed important, but he could continue to wait until I finished my conversation with Fentworth. Both Kine and one of the Sisters of Elora had requested a meeting with me upon my return, though neither were willing to provide Fentworth with their reasons.
When we finished, I took my cup of wine with me as I descended to the first floor to meet with my assistant Orwell. The forty-year-old man looked as though he had paced back and forth the entire time, and when I arrived before him, he released an enormous sigh.
“Master,” he said with a low bow, one that revealed the entirety of his balding head.
I lifted my cup slightly as if preparing to toast, “There is something urgent?”
He rose and began speaking.
His words felt rehearsed, “Indeed, master. During my adventures, I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet with one of Mirktal’s two most powerful assassins. The Barbed Whip and the Deadly Beauty, they call them. Fifth-tier women responsible for more bloodshed than—"
I waved my hand at the man, the one not holding my wine, and interrupted his speech, “Yes, yes. What does this have to do with me?”
He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, and pressed his lips together as if searching for an answer. It was only a brief moment, though, before he looked at me and said, “Master, the woman you keep in the cell downstairs is one of those assassins.”
That was a potential annoyance. I had thought that Murittita was an ex-slave of Mirtal, one whose will had been broken. If that had been an act this entire time, then I had wasted good time and energy in the attempt to coax her into accepting her freedom. If the other assassin was the woman I had sent to the Scout Commander, then it would make sense why I hadn’t heard from the man recently.
Yet, I couldn’t help but question it. That an adventurer recognized the woman was beyond suspicious, and tall tales were known to circle such communities. “Are you certain?”
“I can offer proof, if you would like,” he said and gestured towards the stairwell that led into the depths of my tower.
“Lead on,” I ordered and began walking behind the man.
After we had passed the entryway to the kitchens, he slowed and whispered to me from over his shoulder.
“Master, I ask that you say a few feet back, out of her sight for a moment. Her words will reveal her intentions.”
I didn’t respond, yet I did slow my pace some and took extra care to step softly. Soon enough, he was rounding the bend in the stairwell that would place him in full view of the cell the woman stayed at. I could make out the room, and the magic barrier that shone around it, but I couldn’t see her face. I could hear them well enough.
“Orwell,” she said with pointed venom. “I see you can’t stay away. Come to gloat again?”
I recognized it immediately but was not beyond suspicion. Instead, I cast a quick detection spell to ensure the man wasn’t using magic to mimic her voice, but he wasn’t. No illusionary or other magics were being used.
“No, I was lucky to survive our last encounter. I would not want your anger.” Orwell said, with a small, sad smile on his face.
She scoffed and began laughing, “I see, I see. Even behind this wall, you so fear me?”
I took that moment to step around the corner and see the woman who had spent a large portion of her visit to my tower quivering frightfully in a corner. Her once dull eyes now looked excited, and her thick lips were lifted in a malicious grin. Although, that grin slid away when she saw me. It was clear enough that everything she had done had been an act. A good one, to have fooled me and so many others, but still an act.
Her eyes darted between me and my assistant before she spoke again, “I see, I see. If this barrier weren’t in place, I’d have your heart in my hand, Orwell.”
The way she stressed his name when she spoke made it clear that she knew it wasn’t his name, which wasn’t quite that much of a surprise to me anymore. Shadow games of spies and assassins were always an irritant to me, and I tried to stay away from such wastes of time. That didn’t mean I was oblivious to such things, though. What third-tier adventuring mage could not only recognize an assassin by her face but also survive previous dealings with the woman?
Still, it was odd for her to speak of the barrier as if it held her within. I had altered it almost a month ago so that she could step outside the thing if she so chose to do so. It would prevent spells and skills from passing through, but it was meant to protect what I thought to be an unfortunate victim from anything around her—not the other way around. An obvious misstep, in hindsight. Not that she would have been a threat to me, even if she were roaming free.
So, what did I want to do with her? If I slew her in her cell, I would no doubt be forced to answer several questions, and I knew two lads who would likely be upset to find out I had done so. I couldn’t free her—not an assassin of that tier. I doubted she would be of use against the coming Pestilence.
I sighed and stroked my beard as I considered the matter. Both Orwell and Murrittita watched me in silence. It took me a long moment to arrive at a decision.
With a wave of my hand, I lowered the barrier, an action that surprised them both. Then I motioned for them to follow, and headed back up the stairwell to the first floor. It spoke to their surprise or curiosity that they both followed dutifully behind me.
It was as we reached the first floor, I stopped beside my fire pit and turned to the two who were not what they seem.
“Murrittita,” I said, and the woman smirked to herself as if she had won some kind of battle of wits. “If you would, please stand over there, between the two windows.”
The woman’s entire head moved back in surprise, and her eyes flashed in muted anger. I could see the resistance to my request building on her face.
“Please, this will only take a moment. If I were planning to pinch your life, I would have done so below.”
That seemed to sway her some, and she took wary steps to where I had pointed.
“Thank you, now if you would turn so your back is to the wall. And position your arms like so—good! Yes, just like a painting. Lift your chin some. Good, now—[Petrify]!”
Now, I wasn’t one to normally decorate with the petrified bodies of fifth-tier assassins, as it gave off a slightly morbid impression, I knew that I could unpetrify her in the future.
Perhaps once the Pestilence had rid the world of Mirktal. Without allegiance to the country, she should be much more amiable.
“Master?” My not-quite assistant Orwell whispered from my right. For the first time since I had met him, I heard fear in his voice.
I turned and smiled at the man. There were three tall windows along the wall, and only a single statue between two of them. It wouldn’t be balanced without another statue, and symmetry was important for an audience chamber.
Comments
Dee
Ah, the old carbonate treatment. Long term prison or storage and tasteful decoration all in one!
Zarik0
xDDD
Jason Hornbuckle
well well
