Valor and Violence

Calris shuffled along, following the attendant through the city streets. He shielded his eyes from the harsh morning sun and did his best to ignore the throbbing in his head or the phantom ache in his side. The Aetheris Mage had warned him, in between sermonising about the Pantheon, that even though he’d repaired the damage from the explosion and subsequent collision with the wall, his body probably wouldn’t realise that fact for another day or two.

They had kept him in the mage’s treatment wing overnight to make sure the swelling didn’t kill him in his sleep and, once satisfied he was out of immediate danger, released him. They had given him some chewable leaves to manage the pain, and a pamphlet advertising weekend services for godless heathens. Meanwhile, the stab wound had been closed up almost as an afterthought, the mage scoffing at the weeping gash and healing it with a wave of his hand.

Go figure the cranky apprentice did more damage than the assassin actively trying to kill me.

“I can’t believe she tried to blow me up!” Calris said, pulling another leaf from its bag and popping it in his mouth. His tongue tingled, then went numb as it worked its magic, and the throbbing eased almost instantly.

“You provoked a fire mage, Cal. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Ban replied with a shrug.

“Please. All this sympathy is too much,” Calris bit back, though his words lacked any serious venom. Though Ban wouldn’t admit it, he had been concerned. Despite being in and out of consciousness for most of the ordeal, Calris had vague recollections of Ban’s worried face hovering over the healer’s shoulder, telling him to work harder.

Pit, it would have been downright touching if the jokes hadn’t started the very second the mage had pronounced Calris healed. Since then, Ban had made no secret that he found the entire thing thoroughly amusing, doubtless adding the story to his repertoire of embarrassing Calris related anecdotes. He was not looking forward to the dozens of retellings when they re-joined the squad.

By the Gods, Ban was such a little shit sometimes.

“All I’m saying is you probably should have known better,” the stocky marine said.

“Fuck you! I refuse to stand here being judged by the comrade who watched and laughed at my attempted murder!” Calris replied.

“What makes you think I laughed?”

Calris met the question with an icy glare.

“Alright, fine, so I laughed? I still carried you to the healers, didn’t I?”

Calris ignored him and turned back to the road, trying to keep the pout off his face. He chewed absentmindedly on his leaf as they plodded along and settled back into his thoughts. Once again, they drifted to the apprentice who had hospitalised him.

He was bloody livid, but he had to admit to a certain grudging respect, both for the fact she didn’t take his shit, and the fact she had just about killed him with a gesture. Despite her petite appearance, she had power and attitude, and Calris said a silent prayer for her future husband. She would be a handful.

They turned a corner as he finished his prayer to find the Mages’ College of Pyris looming above them. The attendant led them through the busy maze of corridors and up a few flights of stairs before depositing them at a red metal door covered in intricate reliefs.

Calris barely registered the attendant excusing himself, engrossed as he was in the door’s design. It was old, he could tell that much at a glance, and the artisan who crafted it had been supremely talented. Calris was no expert, but he knew this fine level of detail was difficult to achieve when working with metal.

“Pretty pictures,” he grunted. “What do you suppose they’re for?” he asked as he ran a finger over the panels.

“I think it’s the history of the city. See these towers in the second panel? I’d guess that’s The Six Cities back when it was only the mage towers. The rest show the city’s growth over the years,” Ban said, tapping the scenes on the door as he spoke. “Bloody good work.”

Calris was nodding in agreement when he noticed something off about the first few panels.

“It looks like something is missing here, though,” he said, tapping a bare patch on the first panel. Ban grunted as he bent to have a closer look, the two marine’s faces just inches away from the surface as they scrutinised the work.

It made for an awkward scene when the door abruptly swung open, and Calris found himself looking up into the face of the apprentice who had crumped him the day before. If looks could kill, he reflected, he would definitely be in trouble right now.

“I see you are still alive,” Jasmine said, her face and tone as blank as a sheet of fresh parchment.

“Don’t sound so happy about it, Princess. People might get the wrong idea,” Calris replied with a wink. He had been fairly confident she wouldn’t attack him again in the middle of the college, but as her blank expression gave way to a decidedly more emotional one, Calris braced for another concussion. Luckily for him, Ferez’s voice interrupted any reprisals.

“Jasmine, why is whether or not he is alive something that needs to be asked?”

Calris straightened to peer past Jasmine, spotting Ferez standing by a large redwood table with his back turned. The mage’s tone was sweet. Too sweet.

“I… may have hit him with a Flash Bomb when they came to collect me yesterday, Master,” Jasmine said, wincing.

Oh, dear. She hadn’t told him, Calris thought, his face lighting up.

“You what?” Ferez thundered, wheeling to face Jasmine and the marines. Jasmine threw her hands up as panic crept onto her face.

“He’s fine, isn’t he? I sent him straight to the Aetheris college for healing!” she pleaded. “Besides… this was before I promised to be nicer to people.”

“Jasmine, there is a stark and significant line between being rude to people and blowing them up!”

Jasmine wilted under his glare, stuttering as she sought the words to defend herself. Though Calris was thoroughly enjoying the exchange, he had always been a bit of a sucker for a damsel in distress, even if they were violent and unlikeable. Besides, he had antagonised her. Fair is fair.

“In her defence, Ferez, I was being a bit of a wanker. It’s fine, I walked it off.”

“No, Calris. It is not fine. I will deal with you later,” Ferez replied, glowering at Jasmine a moment more before turning back to the table. “Calris, Ban, please come in and join us. We are awaiting your captain’s arrival to begin.”

At his behest, Calris and Ban entered the room. It was exactly what Calris had imagined the inside of a mage’s tower would look like. Spacious and well-lit by floor length open windows, dominated by an ornate redwood table sitting in its centre, and antique bookshelves filled to bursting against the circular walls.

The room was immaculate except for the table, which was covered in a mess of parchment, quills, books, and the crate they had escorted the day before. As his eyes tracked over the pile, Calris realised there was someone else in the room. A large Emrinthian leant against a bookshelf behind the table, studying them silently through heavily lidded eyes. Calris was sure he hadn’t seen him before, and yet something about his bearing seemed oddly familiar.

“Asim?” Calris asked.

The man nodded, a faint smile creeping onto his lips. Out of his armour, Calris saw what he truly looked like for the first time. Like both Ferez and Jasmine, he was Emrinthian, though his ebony skin suggested he hailed from much further south. He had a handsome face with a strongly arched nose and dark, almost black eyes.

And he was built, rippling muscle straining against skin everywhere Calris could see. Calris swore he could even make out muscle striations on the man’s bald head, but quickly discarded the thought as ridiculous. Still, he was a bloody impressive specimen.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor, mate,” Ban whispered beside him. Calris promptly closed his mouth and turned to Ferez, hoping his gawking hadn’t been as obvious to everyone else in the room.

“Ferez, what is it we are actually waiting to begin?” he asked to fill the silence.

“If I told you that, it would ruin the surprise,” he replied without turning as he continued rummaging through the mess on the table. Calris just muttered “oh” as Asim chuckled and Jasmine, now standing beside the guardsman, groaned.

“Old Man, it is unbecoming for a mage of your station to engage in such petty theatrics,” she said, folding her arms and trying to look cross, but next to the muscular warrior she seemed smaller than usual, and her angry expression was comical. Like a newborn chick chittering away next to an eagle.

Calris almost burst out laughing at the mental image, but the effort of containing it reignited the throbbing in his head. He swayed on his feet and popped another leaf into his mouth, aggressively masticating it to soothe his battered brain.

“No less becoming than inventing hero titles for yourself,” Ferez said, bringing Calris’ attention back to the exchange. Though the mage’s tone was serious, Asim burst out laughing. Jasmine’s expression darkened further and her face turned a shade matching her hair. She turned away from them with a huff.

There’s a story there, Calris thought, his chewing changing from desperate to contemplative.

With Ferez offering no further information, Jasmine doing her best to ignore everyone in the room and Asim content to stand in silence, Calris made his way over to the table, interested to discover the contents of the mysterious crate. Inside, on a bed of straw, was a brassy cube with a star-shaped base.

Disappointed at the apparent mundanity of the object, he started combing through the mess on the rest of the table, looking for something more magical. Surely an important mage would have something juicy, like a magical sword or something, right? But all he could find were books, paper, and the assassin’s pendant from the ambush.

Pulling a face at it and resigning himself to the lack of magical weapons lying around, he picked up a book and leafed through it. Ban sidled up beside him and nudged him in the ribs.

“Making yourself at home, mate?”

“What? We’re in a mage tower. There must be something interesting in here.”

“I still think you’re meant to ask before rummaging through people’s crap.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not meant to rummage through a dead man’s pockets, either,” Calris replied. “Hey, can you read this?”

The only language Calris knew was Common, and the characters in this book sure as the Pit weren’t that. Ban, however, had a knack for languages. The short marine took the book, making a show of holding it upside down.

“I have no bloody clue mate, you were the bookish one, remember?” he replied.

“Right, and you were the tall, handsome, athletic one that all the village girls chased?” Calris replied, snatching the book back from his friend.

“Correct,” Ban chuckled.

Calris was about to deliver a suitably devastating response when Ferez swept over and confiscated the book from them both.

“There it is!” he said as he thumbed through the pages. “Been looking all over for it. I really must clean this room up one day. Or make Jasmine do it,” he said, ignoring the outraged cry from his apprentice. “And I’m not surprised you don’t recognise the script. It’s written in High Panthenaic, not commonly used outside the colleges.”

He placed the book on the table, open to a map centred on the Continental Rift, and stepped back so the two marines could inspect it.

“This book is called A Study on the Continental Rift and Postulation of the Magical and Natural Mechanisms That Created It.”

Ban scoffed and shook his head. “Catchy. Say that ten times real fast while drunk.”

Ferez laughed. “It is actually incredibly dull if I’m being honest, but it has some information of interest. I’ll explain when the captain arrives.”

As if on cue, a knock came from the door and Asim answered, ushering two cloaked figures inside. Calris recognised them before they threw back their hoods as Captain Erwell and Sergeant Olic.

“Good morning, Sarge! I’m surprised to see you up this early on a port visit!”

“Yeah, usually you’re sleeping it off until at least lunchtime,” Ban added with a cheeky grin. They would probably both wear this when they got back to the ship, but how could they pass up the opportunity?

“Shut your mouths before I shut them for you,” Olic growled as he stalked over, giving them each an appraising eye that conveyed both concern and extreme anger. “I heard about what happened. Either of you injured?”

Before Calris could open his mouth, Ban jumped in to answer for them, “Not from the ambush. Calris has a concussion, but that’s because he was a smartass to a fire mage.”

Olic grunted and shook his head. “Which one?”

“Her,” Ban said, pointing to Jasmine, who was still trying to ignore the crowd.

“Gods, you’re a bloody idiot, Hawk.”

The sergeant looked like he was about to say more, and Calris braced himself for the second tirade in as many days, but the captain mercifully cut him off with a glare.

“Catch up later, gentlemen,” he said as he brushed past them and shook Ferez’s hand. “My apologies for their behaviour, High Mage.”

“Think nothing of it, Captain,” Ferez replied, shaking the proffered hand vigorously. “I owe a lot to your marines over there.”

“So I imagine. I understand that is the subject of this meeting?”

Ferez nodded and made quick introductions before moving to the table. “If I could ask everyone except Jasmine to gather around the table?” he said with a slight bow.

“Why everyone except me?” Jasmine asked.

“Because I was being polite to them. You, I’m going to tell to stand by the table,” he growled.

Jasmine shuffled over with a grimace. When everyone had taken up positions around the table, Ferez reached into the crate and pulled out the object, holding it up for everyone to see.

“Associates working an archaeological site in Marduk sent this to me. They asked me to identify what it is and, more importantly, what it does. The working hypothesis is that it is paired with another artifact, like a ‘key’ of sorts. Unfortunately, and not through lack of trying, we lack the ability to confirm it here in the city.”

“You mean my company’s little jaunt down here has been for nothing?” Erwell asked, a slight eye twitch the only sign of irritation.

“Yes. For now. Although I believe I have a solution to our quandary.”

“Our quandary?”

“Mine, specifically. Tangentially yours as well, though,” Ferez said, pausing to take a breath. “Captain, I understand you had difficulties in bringing this here, and I also understand you are eager to get back home, however, and forgive me if this sounds crass, I own your services until I deem them no longer necessary, correct?”

The captain was silent for a long moment, and Calris shot a confused glance at Olic. Ferez couldn’t be right about this, could he? It was strange enough that a Calandorian company was provided as escort, but actually handing the leash over to a foreign nation was unheard of.

“You are correct, High Mage.”

“Fuck me,” Ban breathed beside Calris, evidently as surprised as he was.

“But if I may be so crass,” Erwell said. “Please explain why. It seems you have precious little hard information, certainly not enough to justify temporary ownership of a marine company. If I am to continue to endanger my men, I want to know why this lump of metal is so important.”

Ferez’s face registered surprise and indignation for a moment before his features softened. Calris supposed he was unused to such a forward manner of speaking. Especially considering his station. But Calandorians had been notoriously loath to stand on ceremony ever since they had thrown off the yolk of Aderathian rule a few centuries prior.

“That is fair, Captain, though I will say your escort was a surprise to me too,” he replied. “As to the why, though, I can say with certainty that this artefact is the only one of its type and magnitude in the world that we know of. The entire object is made…” he paused and cast a conspiratorial glance around the room, “from Resonance Ore.”

He cracked a smug grin at the revelation, which quickly faded in the face of everyone’s blank expressions.

“You… don’t know what Resonance Ore is do you?”

Calris felt bad for him. No doubt he had been expecting some big exclamation from the marines at the revelation, but the only one to react was Ban, who raised a hand.

“Fez?”

“Yes, Ban? Do you know what it is?” Ferez asked, his expression perking up again.

“Na, it’s not really about that. It’s, how do I put this… why are me and Cal here?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a pretty trinket and all, and I’m sure it’s real important, but we don’t usually come to these sorts of shindigs, what with officers and mages and all.”

“Yeah,” Calris piped up, “this is all a bit above our pay grade. Mind if we duck out to the pub while you adults talk this over?”

Captain Erwell groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose as Olic clipped them about the ears.

“You’re staying boys. If I have to sit through this shit, you do too,” he said.

“But Sarge! You got to go to the pub! We haven’t had a chance since we brought this crate all the way up here!”

“Which you had to do because when I did let you go to the pub, you started a riot.”

Calris opened his mouth to reply, but Ban stomped on his foot and shook his head.

“Too soon,” he mouthed. He was probably right. Best not push their luck, at least until a few more days and a few more bottles of whiskey had mellowed the sergeant out. Instead, they stood silently, looking suitably sheepish, as Olic started talking again.

“Resonance Ore… We’ve run into it before. It’s a metal that stores magic,” he said, scratching the stubble on his chin.

“That is one function of it, yes,” Ferez replied. “In its natural state, the Ore will absorb and store magic for brief periods of time, though when refined, it can hold magic almost indefinitely. Further, it can be enchanted, enabling stored magical energy to be released according to the type of magic it is enchanted with.”

“So why can’t you test it here?” Erwell asked, though Jasmine eagerly cut in.

“The only way to ascertain the enchantment, in this instance, is to saturate the device with magic until it cannot hold anymore. At that point, the contained energy is expelled by the enchantment, and by observing the resultant outflow, a mage of sufficient experience can deduce the operation of the object. But, the more Ore there is, the more magic is needed to saturate it.”

“Which means more magical energy released unpredictably when it hits saturation point,” Erwell finished, casting a sideways glance at Olic, who nodded in understanding. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Indeed. Jasmine and I poured magic into it until I deemed it unsafe to continue within the city limits. In fact, saturating it may be beyond our combined abilities, and I am reluctant to involve more people if I can avoid it, given the interest of the Guild Master.”

“And this is where we come into it again? Helping you saturate what could be the world’s largest magical bomb,” Erwell said, his mouth set in a hard line.

Ferez gave a thin smile in response. “That is certainly one way of putting it.”

The captain sighed and shook his head. “What’s your plan?”

“If I can draw your attention to this map of the Rift, I have marked some points of interest,” Ferez said, pointing at several small, neat marks on the page. “These are places where, sometime long ago, magics of truly cataclysmic magnitude were unleashed. Even the Rift itself may have been artificially created by magic, though who, or what, would be capable of such a feat is unknown to me.”

Calris shuddered. Anything capable of rending a continent in half was not something he would ever wish to come across, and anything that powerful seemed unlikely to up and leave when it was done. Monstrous mages and monstrous bombs.

Fuck.

He stared at the map, the pit in his stomach growing deeper, as Ferez continued, tapping his finger on a part of the southern shore of Aderath near the border with Marduk.

“We call this place ‘The Glass Keep’,” Ferez continued. “Around the time the Rift was formed, fire magic of incredible magnitude was used here, melting the earth and turning it to glass. At the centre of the formation is a hollow structure that retains an ‘echo’ of primordial magical residue. I should be able to gather and direct this into the Key, enabling us to reach saturation levels.”

“Potentially detonating it inside a giant glass jar,” Calris cut in. All eyes in the room turned to him and everyone bore a different expression.

Ferez looked uneasy, which told Calris this was definitely a valid concern.

Jasmine looked like she wanted to throttle him, but that had been the case every time he had seen her so far, so he didn’t pay her much heed.

Asim looked faintly amused by the outburst, while Olic’s face echoed the concern that Calris felt. Most worrying of all, however, was the captain’s face. Ever the professional soldier, Calris could see he’d already accepted this lunacy as their next mission and was busy planning the logistics for the operation. Ban groaned beside him, noticing the same thing. Ferez gave Calris an apologetic look and coughed politely to draw everyone’s attention.

“That is a definite risk but, unfortunately, we need to determine what this Key does, and quickly. The amount of Ore aside, there are clues in the ruins that have my associates worried. There was a war, thousands of years ago, that we have no records of. It was waged between an unknown enemy and the creators of this incredible artefact.”

“Let me guess,” Calris interrupted. “The people who made the artefact lost, and your friends are worried whatever wiped them out might be coming back?”

Ferez arched an appreciative eyebrow. “Very well done, Calris. While it would be tempting to dismiss this as ancient history, there have been worrying signs it may no longer be the case. Other such excavations have disappeared without a trace, and there is evidence of artefact activity in certain key locations. Indeed, just a few years ago, someone attempted to activate something similar at a place of power in northern Calandor. I believe your good captain here played a part in quashing it.”

“That business up near the Dragonspine Mountains? Aye, I remember it, though I haven’t the slightest clue what really happened. By the time we reached the heart of it all, the mercenary army was all but wiped out, and the survivor’s ramblings were too ridiculous to believe. In the end, the official explanation was they turned on each other due to Resonance Madness. How did you find out about it? The report was classified.”

“Whatever transpired there created a magical bow wave that made it across The Rift. Suffice it to say, that got the colleges’ attention. It is quite… difficult, to stop a collective of mages when they sense there are new and exciting discoveries floating around.”

Ferez and Erwell continued to swap information on the incident, but Calris wasn’t listening. He had stopped as soon as the captain mentioned the Dragonspine. The range was in the province next to his home village. Right around the time something from myth had stormed out of the forest and ruined his life. Ban touched his hand beside him, and Calris didn’t need to turn to know. He was thinking the same thing.

Calris glanced at the brassy cube. It was too early to jump to conclusions, but something in his gut told him this cube might hold the answers he had sought for years. His attention snapped back to the room as Ferez clapped his hands together.

“Anyway, for what it is worth, I doubt very much the enchantment is anything destructive. As I said earlier, we believe this is one half of a pair of artefacts. It would not make sense, destroying whatever it fits in to.”

“Yeah, but you can open a door by kicking it in,” Ban said.

“Regardless,” Erwell said, “we have our orders. We are yours to use as you see fit, High Mage, until you decide you no longer need us. However, I insist my company wait a safe distance from the Keep while you conduct your experiment.”

“That is a fair demand, Captain. We only need an escort to the Keep. We will take things from there.”

“When do you wish to leave?”

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can.”

“That is achievable. We’ll be ready to sail when you arrive in the morning.”

Ferez nodded, relief at being done with what had turned into an unexpectedly painful discussion clear on his face, and gestured for the marines to follow him to the door. He began saying his farewells as he opened it, but stopped when he found a pair of robed figures waiting in the doorway. Calris’ hand drifted to his sword as he observed the new men, some instinct he couldn’t quite recognise telling him they were dangerous.

The first was a tall Calandorian, wearing the same style of robes as Ferez. Despite the lack of an invitation, or the open hostility of Ferez’s body language, he invited himself in, surveying each of the people gathered with a contemptuous air. The second man, equal in height but far broader, entered behind him and took up a position leaning against the doorway.

The reclining stranger looked superficially similar to a Calandorian, but his greater stature and coiling woad tattoos marked him as a Skjar. Calris would have assumed he was a bodyguard were it not for his apprentice robes. They locked eyes and engaged in an impromptu glaring contest as the first man approached the table, unaware or unconcerned that his apprentice and Calris were glaring daggers at each other.

As the mage approached the table, Asim moved quickly to block his view of the crate’s contents, earning a sneer from the newcomer.

“High Mage Politis,” Ferez said, his mouth twisted up as though he were sucking a particularly bitter lemon, “I would have thought eavesdropping below someone of your station.”

“Ferez, I assure you I was not eavesdropping like some vagrant. I honestly arrived at your door the very moment you opened it!” Politis replied, eyes not leaving Asim’s as the standoff over the crate continued. Ferez, meanwhile, pulled a face at his counterpart’s back.

“Well, isn’t that an improbable coincidence?”

“Remarkable, right?”

The corner of the man’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, and Calris knew with absolute certainty that he was lying through his teeth. Finally deciding he was getting nowhere, Politis broke eye contact and turned, searching out Jasmine and oozing over.

“My, my, this must be the talented apprentice I have heard so much about! Jasmine, was it?” he asked as he took her hand and kissed it. Jasmine nodded with a grimace. “I did not realise she was such a gorgeous young woman! Beauty and genius are a rare combination, my dear. Why on Telrus’ green earth are you apprenticing to this dried up piece of leather?”

“As you say, sir, I am a genius,” she replied, pulling her hand free with some effort and wiping it on her robe. “It wouldn’t do to apprentice to someone less capable than myself now, would it?”

Calris cracked a smile and gave an approving nod, though she pointedly continued ignoring him. Politis, though, found it decidedly less amusing.

“I see there is much he is yet to teach you. Proper decorum and manners, for one,” he said as he turned back to Ferez. His eyes lingered on Jasmine until the last moment. They were not, Calris noted with rising ire, fixed on her face. “Ferez, Harold and I came to see how you fare after the attack. Say hello, Harold.”

Harold gave a lazy nod to no one in particular, still glaring at Calris. Calris wasn’t sure why he was getting all the man’s attention, but he guessed it had something to do with his height. It tended to attract dickheads with something to prove. If this, Harold, was one such dickhead, Calris would relish caving his face in, mage or not.

Politis continued talking regardless. “And, of course, I would like to offer my services to assist you in whatever matters you may need.”

Ferez crossed to the table and replaced the crate’s lid, not bothering to look at Politis as he replied.

“And what exactly do you think you can help me with?”

“Well, I see you have no wounds to tend, although I recall you used to have more bodyguards?”

Politis paused, making a show of looking about the room for the missing guardsman. A pulsing vein appeared at Asim’s temple, the man’s fists clenched so tight his skin turned light over the knuckles.

“Well, no matter. Perhaps I can loan you Harold for a spell?” he continued, uncaring of the murderous intent filling the room. “I imagine I could also help with whatever is in that crate you’re guarding so jealously.”

He crossed the room, a hungry look on his face. Ferez slapped his hand away, rage flaring in both men’s eyes at the other’s gesture. There was a tense moment and Calris let his hand rest on his pommel, subtly shifting his stance towards the Harold. Fortunately, or not, depending on your attitude, Politis backed up a pace and forced a strained smile.

“Mea culpa, High Mage. That was rude of me.”

Ferez knocked the metaphorical olive branch aside, face still livid.

“I ask again, High Mage Politis, how is it you think you can help me, since you have no idea what it is?” he hissed. “Or am I wrong in that assumption?”

There was an edge to Ferez’s voice that took Calris by surprise, and he noticed Asim shift his feet slightly, eyes fixed on the mage’s hands. Taking a cue, Calris repositioned his hand, using his thumb to push his sword’s hilt clear of the scabbard. This man was clearly not a friend, but this hostility suggested more than simple animosity. It suggested he was an enemy.

Politis held Ferez’s glare, the hint of a smarmy grin creeping back onto his face. “No, of course not, since you didn’t deign to share that information with the rest of the council.”

“None of the others seemed to care all that much.”

Silence fell upon the room as the two mages glared. Calris’ hand twitched, and he wondered if this would really come to blows. He was new here, sure, but surely two High Mages going at it in the college itself was unlikely?

In the end, it was Politis who broke the tension again. With an exaggerated sigh, he threw his hands up in defeat.

“Very well, Ferez, have it your way. I only wanted to help. I honestly have no clue what it is you are hiding in there, but if you are disinterested in collaborating, I will say nothing further on the matter,” he said as he turned to leave. He stopped partway, noticing the assassin’s pendant on the table. “But what, pray tell, is that?”

Ferez cursed under his breath as he picked it up and dangled it by its chain.

“It was recovered from an assassin that attacked us. I’m sure you have already figured out it’s a Resonance Item.”

Politis’ face showed surprise at the revelation, and he tentatively reached out to take it.

“May I?”

“I suppose,” Ferez said as he handed the pendant over.

Politis turned it over as he inspected the markings, rubbing it thoughtfully with his thumb.

“The design of this is… particular, wouldn’t you say?”

“Cut the crap, Politis. We both know this came from the Guild.”

“Unusual for the Guild Master to leave a calling card like this. Why, the last time was that business with the mayor and guard commander down the road.”

“I doubt it was a calling card. We pulled it from the corpse of his assassin, after all.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“You think he meant us to find it?”

Politis scratched his chin and clicked his tongue. “The Guild Master is cunning. If there is one thing we have seen from him before, it is that he is an expert at letting his prey manoeuvre themselves into his traps.”

Calris snuck a quick glance at Ferez to gauge his response and saw growing doubt on his face.

“This is… true. Some believe the explosion that decimated the city guard was a Resonance Item trap.”

“I have some experience investigating these types of devices, Ferez. If you would permit it, I could take this and test it for you? Just to confirm it is safe,” Politis said.

“Awfully generous to risk your neck.”

“Consider it a gesture of good faith. Maybe after, you will consider collaborating on whatever research project you have in that crate?”

“Perhaps…” Ferez said, mulling over the offer. “Very well, feel free to blow yourself up prodding the pendant. If you prove it was trapped and avoid dying, I may consider bringing you in.”

“Very wise choice,” Politis said, bowing slightly. With a final look about the room, his gaze once again lingering on Jasmine, he swept out of the room with Harold following close. Ferez trailed them as far as the door, watching them leave. When the two mages were well and truly out of sight, he closed the door. For a while he just stood there, massaging his temples as though lost in thought.

“For the benefit of anyone in the room who didn’t already know, that was High Mage Brooke Politis, one of my fellow Pyris College Councilmen, and heir apparent to some noble title in Calandor.”

“Stonegrove,” Captain Erwell interjected, “A small province in northern Calandor traditionally known for its mines, lately known for being… problematic. The Dragonspine mountains are in that province.”

“Oh?”

“They amassed quite a lot of physical and political power when the heir apparent developed the ability to incinerate opposing armies, and the current Lord Politis has been the subject of constant scrutiny since the incident in the mountains,” Erwell looked concerned as he spoke, and Calris guessed there was more to the story than he was letting on. “Are you sure it is wise to trust his son? He is an ambitious man and… of questionable character.”

“Questionable character? What does that mean? Bah, it doesn’t matter. I gave him the trinket and some half promise to get him to piss off. I never trusted him at the best of times. Now, though, I suspect him of having a hand in leaking our activities to the Guild Master.”

Hold on…

“Are you saying he could be in league with the guys that just tried to kill us?” Calris asked. “We have to go after him!”

“Steady there, young man,” Ferez replied, “this is The Six Cities. I cannot take action directly against him without definite proof, and I doubt the other councillors would even care if I went to them with my suspicions. Each mage is expected to keep his own house in order. If I couldn’t defend my possessions from him, then I wasn’t deserving of it in the first place.”

“That seems a bit…” Calris began, searching for the right word.

“Archaic? Encouraging of fractious infighting? Fucking bizarre? You are absolutely correct, Calris, but that’s just The Six for you.”

“He’s a potential enemy, and he knows our next move. We need to capture him, at the very least, and keep him locked up until we can be sure!”

“Capturing a High Mage is easier said than done.”

Ban cracked his knuckles. “Question, Ferez: can mages still do magic if someone breaks their hands?”

“Well… not usually, no.”

“Then we can handle this for you. We even promise to be discrete-ish.”

Ferez shook his head. Erwell, however, thoughtfully tapped his finger against his chin.

“You cannot break a High Mage’s hands inside the college, Ban.” Ferez said, eyeing off the captain with concern. “Aside from the insanity of the plan, such an action would force the rest of the council to intervene on his behalf. Captain Erwell, I’m guessing you are amenable to this course of action but, please, don’t move against him here. It will only end in disaster for all of us.”

Erwell shrugged and grunted, though the gesture was non-committal at best. Regardless, Calris wasn’t willing to let this go so easily.

“So, he can try and kill us, and that’s fine, but if we try and kill him, that’s not?” he asked, anger rising in his voice. Even outside Calandor, he still couldn’t get away from the fucking nobles and their bullshit. Captain Erwell held up his hand to forestall any further bickering.

“That’s politics for you, Calris, and it’s above your pay grade to worry about. He has a point though, High Mage. Politis knows where we are going, can we change our destination? Perhaps one of the other sites you marked?”

“Unfortunately, no. If I’m right and Politis is working against us, we need to move fast. The other sites are too far away and more, difficult, to access.”

“Then we change the timeline,” Erwell said, his jaw set in a resolute line. “We depart in an hour.”