Author Artemis
patreon
Chapter 139 - The Enchanter's Guild
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 18:00:08 +0000 UTCAlthough James carried a war hammer with him everywhere, and wore armor, and practiced hammer-wielding underneath a Hammer Warrior instructor—he had never actually said to anyone he was a Hammer Warrior.
He was studious about not talking about his second Class.
This was not uncommon in those days. The element of surprise is quite valuable in a fight, especially in self-defense, where one almost always has lost the initiative.
When James brought up his desire to go to the Enchanter’s Guild, the Aspirant Knight was fully supportive. The summer solstice was drawing near, and the sooner his personal Smith and Enchanter was fully trained, the sooner he could set to work planning out the gear he would want for next year’s Tournament.
Rather, it was the Steward who was most concerned for James’ safety.
“And what will you tell them when you go in for training?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean for your Classes: you’re already known as a Smith, and there are scarcely any other blonde-haired young men in Cordova.”
James recalled his time in the mine, in the slave camp. Surrounded by young men—boys, really—who were all Mages of one sort or another, as well as some other professional class. They had all been wearing shackles that suppressed their magic, and prevented them from resisting their captors, from even escaping beyond the wards.
He hoped that they had managed to escape, but… Between the dire wolves and the wyvern, and the cursed-dragonfire melted stone he had encountered trying to escape the Dungeon back into the mine, he doubted it.
“I don’t intend to tell them my second Class, or even to admit to being a Smith. Mages, too, can enchant.”
The Knight perked up, hearing this. “Is that true?”
The Enchanter shrugged. “That’s what Meridox, the man who introduced me to Enchanting, said. I have no reason to think he lied.” He paused. “Well, I can’t say for certain anyway; I still know less about Enchanting than I did about Smithing before we arrived here in Cordova.”
“And will you be okay walking to the Enchanter’s Guild, unescorted? Do you plan to take the armband of the Knight’s Order?” the Steward pressed.
James shook his head. “I expect I’ll be fine. The local punks don’t even give me a second glance anymore.
The Knight rubbed his jaw. “Sebastian is right, there is a risk… but I think it is worth it. I can arrange a training exercise for the junior Knights, have them follow you at a distance as if they were investigating you. Still, to minimize leaking information, wear a hooded cloak, and your armor, and carry some of those smaller hammers.”
“Not the bastard hammer?”
“You don’t need it to come off as intimidating to the average [Danger Sense].”
The Steward chuckled. Even with a smaller hammer on his belt, the Smith had the air of a man ready to snap at a moment’s notice.
And so it was that the Smith wrapped up his work at the Smithing Guild and informed them that he would be working on other projects for his lord. If they needed to reach him, they could send a message to the Knight’s Order Headquarters.
Marlie was nearly inconsolable.
“Nooooo!” she yelled. “Who’s gonna do all the chores if you leave, James? Who?!”
The other Smiths in the Guildhall chuckled at her antics, and shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder and generally wished him farewell.
“You were a lifesaver during pipe season,” one said.
“When ye get back ah’ll show ye some new armor forgin’ tricks, ye wait and see!” another promised.
And then James left.
While he was cleaning up his business with the Smithing Guild, the Steward arranged for a deposit of funds into an account with the Enchanter’s Guild in the Aspirant Knight’s name, via the Royal Bank.
James wouldn’t need to do odd chores for the Enchanters to pay for his training.
The next morning he rose, donned his gambeson and chainmail, affixed several of his smaller hammers to his belt, and pulled a bulky cloak over himself. Not so bad in the early morning air, but still warm and stuffy enough to make him thankful for his [Heat Resistance].
The Steward looked him over, ensuring he had everything he would need, and sent him on his way, promising that junior Knights would be following at a distance, practicing an investigation. They were ordered to intervene in case of any altercations.
“If something happens, the exercise calls for them to arrest you as well; go along with it until the scene is secured, and then say the phrase “God, King, Country, and Kin.” That will signal that the training exercise is over, and they will release you and bring you back to the Knight’s Order.”
James nodded, smiled, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.
And so it was that a hooded man radiating danger conspicuously departed the Knight’s Order Headquarters one morning.
The shopkeeps conducting their business took note of him but quickly moved on as he passed without stopping.
Children peered around corners at the strange man, but made no move to approach him.
Local gossips gathered to discuss the stranger, trying to figure out who exactly it was, until soon they spotted the freshly minted Knights trailing the man, under the instruction of an exasperated senior Knight. Discussions quickly turned to which of the new Knights were single, and which were engaged, and one particularly scandalous Knight who was even already wed.
James reached the main road without trouble, and focused on keeping an eye on his surroundings as he walked. There was a trick to it, taught to him by the city guards who used to escort him. The glass of the shop windows could be reflective, and grant a view of what was behind him; enough to see if he was being approached from behind. Shadows, as well. In the early morning and evening, they were longer, and would allow the observant to keep track of people by the shadow they cast even if they were around a corner.
A large man standing outside a shop on the road ahead looked James’ way and frowned. James continued to scan his surroundings as he walked, but the man was staring at him.
James assessed the situation even as he continued walking.
There was no room to take a detour.
The man had no visible weapons.
His build suggested he was a Pugilist, given his large arms and upper body; but he might also be a Martial Artist or a Knifewielder.
The man tensed, and then James was close enough that the man could see James’ face under his hood.
He relaxed, and then the jewelry store’s guard nodded a greeting to the passing Smith. “Bit warm for a hooded cloak, no?” he chided. James only shrugged in response and continued on his way.
As James walked down the main street and drew closer to the various Guildhalls, more and more hooded and cloaked people passed through the streets hither and thither without stopping. Some even wore full masks. Typically they were agents of the various nobles, going about the business of their lords, and woe unto the Pickpocket or Thief who tried to blend in among them and got caught.
A smile tugged at James’ lips as he supposed he, too, was one such agent about his lord’s business.
Another broad street intersected the main street prior to reaching the Smithing Guildhall, and James turned down it. Unfamiliar shops lined the sides, selling more specialized and expensive goods to a more refined clientele. James tried not to gawk, but he couldn’t help noticing some of the stores weren’t even open to the public; they saw customers by appointment only.
Far enough down this road that it curved and the main street was entirely out of sight was a large plaza with several tall buildings, surrounded by a low wall just slightly too high to be comfortable to sit on.
It had a presence.
Not just in the metaphorical sense; the buildings, the plaza, even the low wall had a weight that pressed on reality and made the surrounding buildings seem washed out, faded, almost unreal. Like paintings of trees surrounding an actual tree.
James could feel the enchantments, though he didn’t recognize any of them. There were enchantments in the walls. Enchantments in the paving stones of the plaza. Though he couldn’t tell for sure, being five stories above him, he even suspected that the tiles in the roofs above were enchanted.
An understated sign on the wall next to the ungated entrance declared the presence of the Enchanter’s Guild of Iberteria.
This, too, was enchanted.
Though there were four buildings, almost towers, one in each corner of the plaza, there was also a large building at the far end from the entrance, filling in the back edge of the plaza and itself three stories tall, judging by the windows. This was the main hall, according to the Steward, and James walked around a fountain in the center of the plaza towards it before stopping to glance again at the fountain.
There was undine essence in the water. The bluer-than-blue swirls had caught his eye, and now that he looked more closely, he could see the fountain was teeming with essence. He also noted a small plaque warning that the water in the fountain was not for drinking nor bathing.
He turned back to the main hall, ignoring a burble that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, and walked through the open entryway.
He paused just inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, and pulled back his hood revealing his blonde hair and blue eyes.
Unlike the Smithing Guild and the Merchant’s Guild, the Enchanter’s Guild’s main hall had a lower ceiling decorated in fine wood paneling, as were the walls, divided by narrow areas of wallpaper on which were affixed lamps to provide lighting. Though there were windows, the surrounding buildings meant that the main hall rarely received direct sunlight.
Needless to say, nearly every surface was enchanted.
Where the room wasn’t particularly tall, nor was it particularly deep, it was wide. On either side were low tables, armchairs, and couches providing places for clients to sit and discuss business. On the back wall there was a counter on which sat multiple tea and coffee services, and maids wearing the traditional maid uniform stood at the ready. In the far corners there were staircases leading to the upper floors.
Near to the door, standing somewhat in shadow, was an older gentleman wearing a faded maroon robe and gold-rimmed spectacles. His hair was grey, and thinning, and his skin was starting to sag, but his eyes still sparked with intelligence. He stood straight behind a lectern, though slightly shorter than James did, and smiled professionally at the cloaked man who had entered into his territory.
“Welcome to the Enchanter’s Guild,” he greeted James with a professional smile. “Do you have an appointment?”
