Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk stood inside an empty chamber within Fortress Al-Mir. At one point in time, it had been a barracks, foundry, or training room. He wasn’t sure. Regardless, the lesser servants had eaten everything inside, leaving just smooth stone tiles, each bearing the compass rose and blue-violet gemstone.

A small pile of gold sat on the floor next to him. Gold was heavy, surprisingly so. Even the small fistful that Ilya had been carrying around weighed as much as a full-size lumber axe. It would have taken a few trips from the [HEART] chamber were it not for Vezta helpfully informing him that he could transport not just people, but things as well. Anything that belonged to him could be moved near instantly simply by thinking about it.

Now, he had to do a bit more thinking.

He knew what looms were, even if he had never seen a proper one. Just the one that the local village tailor used to make the clothes he wore now. Vezta had helped, sketching out detailed plans for the room. Holding the sketch tight in his mind, Arkk stretched out a hand toward the pile of gold and pushed out a touch of his magic.

The room changed before his eyes. Bolts of colorful cloth formed in the walls, set on great reels. Large spools of thread looped over wheels and dangled from the ceiling. Four large machines covered in wheels, thread, and cloth popped into existence around the center of the room. Tall wooden mannequins covered in pins and partially-finished clothing sprung up near the sides of the room. Scissors and needles hung from walls while machines for sewing appeared on tables.

The torches vanished so as to not cause fires. Thankfully. In their place, glowing stones provided bright and almost natural light to the room.

Arkk had no frame of reference beyond the village tailor, and yet, he had a feeling that this place would rival even that of the tailors of Cliff. If nothing else, he had just created bolts of cloth from nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

Looking down at his feet, Arkk found a mere two and a half coins remaining from the small fortune he had started with. Still, he couldn’t exactly call himself disappointed with the outcome. Just running his hand over a spool of blue cloth felt like it should be against the realm’s laws. Someone like him touching something so smooth and soft?

Ilya and Vezta approached from the door to the room. The former stared with wide eyes, lightly touching her fingers to one of the bolts of cloth much as Arkk was doing. The latter simply looked around, nodding to herself. Vezta didn’t look impressed at all, but that was probably to be expected if her former master was capable of feats such as this.

“It would behoove you to hire skilled tailors to operate this room,” she said, completing her inspection. “The lesser servants may craft some minor goods here, but this room is wasted on them in the end.”

“I… guess I’ll keep it in mind?”

“Wait,” Ilya said, regaining her stony look. “Wait. Those things are going to be touching our clothes?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. Arkk, tell her it is.”

Arkk shrugged. “I mean, they cleaned up the corridors without leaving slime everywhere.”

“Arkk.”

“It isn’t like there are many options. I guess we can grab Higgens, but…” Arkk tugged on his shirt, which Higgens had made. “Do you think he’ll be able to make anything better?”

“No…” Ilya trailed off, looking to the door.

As if called by their conversation, one of the lesser servants squirmed into the room. Ilya glared, moving between the bolts of cloth and the servant. Vezta, however, calmly approached. A tendril snapped out, wrapping around the lesser servant and holding it in place. With her bare hands, she tore into the servant, ripping pieces off and shoving other pieces into its body. A tentacle flew across the room but didn’t make it to the floor before vanishing into motes of blue-violet light.

The servant squirmed and screamed, a hideous noise like a rabbit frightened by a fox. Even still, Vezta did not stop, clawing it to pieces.

Arkk turned away, a grimace on his face. He wasn’t quite sure what Vezta was doing, but he could feel the link to the lesser servant. It was in pain, but it wasn’t dying. She wasn’t trying to kill it.

The screeching stopped after a few moments. Arkk finally looked back, only to pop his brows up in surprise.

Vezta set a small creature on the ground. A creature that looked remarkably like she did. A small Vezta that barely came up to the knees of the larger version. With a nudge of her tentacle, Vezta sent the smaller version of herself scuttling toward the wooden mannequins.

“They require aristocratic attire,” she said before turning to Ilya. “Pleased?”

Ilya, who had been standing as still as Arkk had during that… process, shuddered. “I… think I’m going to be sick,” she said, rushing out of the room.

“Master, your minion is difficult to please.”

Arkk wasn’t exactly feeling the best either, but he still forced a smile. “Employee, Vezta. Are you going to do that to the others?”

“Perhaps in time, if you wish. For now, they are more useful as they are. May I recommend sending them to the lowest level of the fortress to clear the path to the mine? Unless my former master was exceedingly vigorous in his final moments, there should be a plentiful supply of gold beneath us. Perhaps not enough to sate a lord’s lust for wealth, but enough to fulfill your immediate goals of bribing nobles or hiring mercenaries.”

“How large is the gold mine under us?”

“Plentiful,” Vezta repeated. “If not, I know there is a way to use the [HEART] to conjure gold, though I am unsure of the specifics. You will have to research that.”

“Add it to my list,” Arkk mumbled.

Somehow, Vezta heard him. “Current goals: Return Fortress Al-Mir to full power. Become a master I idolize. Open the portal to the [UNDERWORLD]. Revert the Calamity. Recover Ilya’s mother. Research magic. Research gold conjuration.” Vezta paused, frowning. “Master, nearly all these goals were imposed upon you by myself. I exist to serve your goals, not Ilya’s or even my own.”

“Your goals are my goals,” Arkk said. “I wouldn’t have agreed with them if I didn’t want to. You aren’t pushing me around if that is what you’re thinking.”

“But—”

Arkk held up a hand. “There are a lot of things I want and a lot of things I’m sure I’ll want in the future. But I do have one immediate interest…” For a moment, Arkk focused on Ilya. As his employee, he could see her just about anywhere. He didn’t like looking in on her, but right now? He wanted to make sure Ilya wasn’t nearby.

She wasn’t. She was back in the library—the only other furnished room at the moment—sitting in one of the chairs. She looked a little green in the face, but she was otherwise fine.

And out of earshot.

“What you said this morning, about starting a war with the Duke? I didn’t want to say it in front of Ilya, but that is a whole lot closer to what I want than I might have let on.”

“As I said, Fortress Al-Mir is not yet—”

Arkk stopped her with a raised hand. “I don’t want an actual war. But deposing him? Replacing him with someone, anyone else?” Arkk’s hand clenched into a fist. “That man sends his tax collectors around every harvest season. We owe them a full half of what we harvest. I talk to everyone who passes through the village. All the mercenaries and beastmen, all the demihumans and adventurers. Mostly, I talk to the spellcasters, but I still talk to the others.

“I’ve heard that the food goes to waste. Just rots. Sometimes, they toss it on the roads outside Cliff City because their storehouses are too full. Every village in the province harvests all this food that just goes bad? It’s supposed to be feeding armies and soldiers. People who protect us? And yet orcs and goblins a few hundred strong roam the land unimpeded. They would have destroyed our village if not for you and me… if not for you.”

Arkk clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. “And if we fail? If the harvest doesn’t meet the quotas? If a drought or pestilence claims our crops? The Duke doesn’t hand out that abundance of food he takes from the other villages to help us through tough times. No, he starts taking other things. Horses, tools… Ilya’s mother.”

Breathing, calming down, Arkk slowly opened his eyes. Vezta simply stood in front of him, staring without judging. She had her slight smile in place as her eyes burned.

“I came back to you… I made that contract with you… It wasn’t just to save the village. Ilya wanted to go to the Duke. I couldn’t let her. If… I fear that if the Duke catches sight of her and sees how beautiful Ilya is… he’ll snatch her up as well. Then she’ll be gone.” Arkk let his hands fall to his sides, limp. “Then I…”

Arkk didn’t finish his sentence. He just stared down at the ground, down where Vezta’s tendrils were unusually still, though they still dripped their dark oil. It somehow managed to avoid reaching the stone, absorbed back into her body.

“Sorry for springing that on you. Just forget it. It isn’t something I ever thought would be possible, but as Ilya said with that handful of gold, this changes things. But probably still too much to ask.”

“On the contrary, my master. I am in awe of your ambition. You have a single functional room and a single minion apart from myself. And we’re plotting a coup.” Vezta leaned closer. “I am excited.”

“You think we can do it?”

“Of course, though not soon. We might want to open the portal sooner rather than later, however. The Cloak of Shadows could provide useful minions or blessings for such a task.”

“Cloak of Shadows?”

“A member of the [PANTHEON]. Rules the night, secrets, stealth, and other such related matters.”

Arkk rubbed his chin. This opening the portal business, and undoing the Calamity, was something he wanted to talk to Ilya about before actually starting. He had made a promise to her and that felt like something he should mention, just in case.

Nodding slowly, he took a breath. “We’ll focus on trying to get back Ilya’s mother first. Whether we try to depose the Duke now or later, at least she’ll be out of the way. He won’t have her as a hostage.”

“Understood,” Vezta said with a bow. “In that case, I believe my inferior copy would like to take your measurements.”

Arkk turned to find the knee-high Vezta holding up a flexible strip of leather with several markings on it, denoting distance. It stood atop one of the stools in the room, though even with that added height, it wouldn’t be able to reach halfway up his chest. He glanced back to the real Vezta, raising an eyebrow.

“As I said,” she sighed, “best hire some proper tailors. I suppose I better help it out.”

Arkk sat over a desk in a newly recreated library. Gone were the musty shelves and broken furniture. The only books that remained were the few he had saved and the few he had copied. In place of the rest were empty, depressing shelves. It was a small consolation that the furnishings of the room had been replaced with comfortable seats. The reading lights made from glowstones weren’t too bright, yet weren’t dim enough to cause a strain on the eye.

He wasn’t copying books at the moment. While Ilya had her measurements taken, Arkk had decided to do a bit more planning.

At the moment, he hated their plan. If it could even be called that. Walking up to the Duke and throwing money at him had to be the worst decision, well-fitting clothes or not. They would seem desperate and the gold would come across as suspicious. They might not get a chance to hire mercenaries if the Duke found cause to throw them in prison. Arkk might be able to use the [HEART] or Vezta to get them out, but winding up in that position in the first place would be bad.

He had come up with a list of a few priorities.

First and foremost was not actually to rescue Alya. It was to prevent Ilya from falling into the Duke’s hands.

The easiest way to prevent that would be to have her simply not go anywhere near Cliff. But Arkk doubted Ilya would be willing to go along with that. She would want to be front and center in this.

So, the next best option would be to make her untouchable. Ilya couldn’t be a peasant from some village in the duchy. She had to be someone important, whose absence would be noted and investigated. To that end, wealthy-looking attire would be a great benefit. He wasn’t quite sure how to play it out, but it was something to discuss with Vezta and Ilya.

The second priority was, also, not to rescue Alya, but to keep the [HEART] secret and secure. Even with just the little he had seen thus far, the room construction and the gold creation, the servants, and Vezta herself, it seemed like the kind of thing a man like the Duke would covet above anything else. To say nothing of all the capabilities Vezta implied it could demonstrate. That might sound like the kind of thing that could be traded for Alya’s freedom, but Arkk would rather die than let a man like the Duke have the [HEART].

For the third priority, Arkk started to write down Alya’s rescue but crossed it off. He started to replace it with protecting himself and Vezta, needing to be safe and free to carry out the rest of the tasks on his list, but he didn’t quite make it before a flash of light sparked from one of the two magic circles in the room.

A young girl with black hair tied into two tight ponytails stumbled into the room.

Arkk lurched to his feet. “Hale? What are you… How did you get here—”

Hale’s dark eyes locked onto Arkk’s. Wide-eyed and obviously terrified, a small bit of relief crept into her expression as recognition took hold. She launched herself at him, trembling. “Orcs in the village!” she blurted out. “I saw them, orcs!”

Some of Hale’s panic rubbed off on Arkk. He felt the palms of his hands start to sweat. Almost on instinct, he ripped Ilya and Vezta into the room. The latter didn’t look surprised or alarmed in the slightest. Ilya, shirt half off over her head, stumbled. The only thing that saved her from a fall to the ground was the grace of her elfish reflexes. She rammed her shirt back down over herself and shot a ferocious glare at Arkk.

“What do you think you’re—” She spotted Hale and blinked. The scorn in her voice vanished, replaced with surprise and concern. “What do you think you’re doing here? Arkk, did you—”

“The orcs you saw, Hale, did others see them?”

She nodded her head into Arkk’s chest. “John saw them. He started shouting for others.”

Ilya’s face went paler than normal, though Vezta simply stood with her usual smile in place.

“Were they attacking?”

“I don’t know, I…” Hale pushed herself back, steadying herself. She took a breath. “I said I would get help,” she said, shooting Arkk a nervous smile. “I saw you use the circle thing many times, so I knew how to use it too.”

It took a touch of magic to get working. Arkk hadn’t known that Hale could use magic. He filed that away for later. Looking to the side, he met Ilya’s gaze and nodded. “You go first,” he said. “You can’t use the circles on your own. Vezta, with her. I’ll follow.”

Vezta bowed and a series of tendrils emerged from the ground around her, ripping and pulling at her in much the same way as she had done to the lesser servant earlier. Rather than transform herself into a small version, the tendrils pulled her down into the ground. A bright golden eye opened in the oily pool that had been Ilya’s shadow. Ilya glanced down at it with a wrinkle on her nose but didn’t argue. She hurried to the ritual circle but stopped just before entering it. Looking back to Arkk, she narrowed her eyes. “My bow?”

Since recovering her bow, Ilya had been carrying it everywhere. Except now. She must have taken it off while with the miniature Vezta. Mentally searching through the Fortress, he found it resting against the wall not far from the lesser servant in the tailor’s room. Much like pulling Ilya and Vezta to him, Arkk tugged on the bow.

It appeared in the air just above Ilya’s extended hand along with a quiver full of arrows. Taking a split second to examine it, she nodded to herself and stepped into the ritual circle.

In a flash, they disappeared to the village.

“You stay here, Hale. We’ll be back when it is safe.”

“I can help too!” she said, taking another breath. “I can use a bow. I helped last time after we saw your lightning bolt!”

“Last time I went through that circle when the goblins were attacking, they had it surrounded. If you go through, they might be on the other side. They’ll get you before you have a chance to draw your bow. I’m sorry,” he said, then had a thought.

The miniature Vezta popped into the library, standing atop the chair Arkk had been sitting on. He turned to it and pointed at Hale. “She is important. Your other duties are on hold until we get back. Keep her safe here, understand?”

The little thing nodded its head without hesitation. It couldn’t fight. Just because it looked like Vezta didn’t make it any stronger of a lesser servant. But it could keep Hale from stumbling around the place. Although the servants had cleaned up, there were still a few areas that could be dangerous. That pit in the [HEART] chamber, for one. Not that those heavy iron doors would open for anyone. It probably wouldn’t be able to stop Hale if she were determined to use the magic circle to get back to the village, but Hale didn’t know that.

Patting Hale on the head, Arkk hurried to the circle. It took a mere instant to check that Ilya and Vezta were clear.

He disappeared in a flash.