Foreword; this chapter is written in an experimental 'snippet' style, do let me know if you like it either in the discord or in the comments. They may become slightly more common in a 'world building' sense, though they won't become the norm either way.
All events take place roughly in the span of a week.
***
Beat it now boy, beat it back home,
The Legions have come to sing you of bone,
They have four horses, and nine battle drums,
Beat it back home now, the war has begun,
Third verse of an Imperial marching song
***
"Welcome, Archmage, to the Forest of Duekad," Kleph said, waving Marcus through. He hummed neutrally, glancing at a procession of deer. "It hosts, without boast, the largest grove in Mirrania."
That he could believe. Already Marcus had seen half a hundred druids, more streaming in and out of the place seemingly at random. Not having a main road somewhat inevitably created a dozen footpaths, but even those seemed discouraged.
Instead, each group of druids seemed to be making their own way, usually with a few animals in tow. It wasn't particularly structured, or disciplined, but then they didn't really need to be. The druids that needed discipline, usually to go to war, learned that in the Academy.
No, this grove blessed the fields around Redwater and throughout much of Loyalist lands, though that was far from the only thing they did. Curing sick animals, minor fertility rituals both for people and livestock, encouraging the growth of orchards and much, much more was in their duty roster.
Thanks to them, Loyalist lands had gone through somewhat of a golden age, with plentiful harvests to reap and fat animals to slaughter. Which was good, because with how short the Dungeon Breaks were becoming, farming around the Dungeon had become pretty much impossible.
Already food was becoming Mirrania's main export, especially after the Gate network had gone up.
Kleph took his silence in good grace, continuing on. Marcus followed, glancing at the man. Kleph had always been somewhat… prickly, but these days he seemed relaxed. At peace, almost, probably because of the whole 'largest grove in Mirrania' thing. His ego was well-fed, and thus quiet.
Something to keep an eye on.
They made it deeper inside, the wild forest slowly becoming more orderly and settled. Homes sculpted from trees became common, great big hollow structures with doors and windows. Animals were still everywhere, but they seemed more and more aware, and one stag even bowed its head towards him.
Wasn't that a threat display? Maybe? He didn't do much with animals.
If it was, the stag didn't attack, so Marcus didn't comment on it. Deeper they walked still, and the density of homes never increased. It seemed they had no real village, though he spotted several gathering places.
In one stood an old man, hands on a young sapling and with half a dozen pupils around him. He was speaking about something Marcus could not hear, and the young tree swayed in the non-existent wind.
In another a short man faced off against a pair of women, all three wielding staves of wood. It seemed more a game than proper sparring. Then another lesson, this time with the aid of a placid bear.
Marcus was pretty sure there should be no bears around Redwater.
Every now and then he saw druids with a more focused look, practicing proper battle magic or patrolling the grounds, but they were few and far between.
They finally came to a trio of great white oaks, rising and rising into the sky. Kleph walked inside to reveal it was bigger there than it should be, something Marcus had felt before they'd ever entered the forest.
It was decent work, but with only a few minor tweaks, he could double the space. Marcus shook his head. That wasn't why he was here, and this visit was long overdue. Best not to get side tracked.
Kleph motioned at a seat, busying himself in a small kitchen. The man spoke while he worked, his cadence slow and measured. "The forest is not your place, your Grace, but there is much to learn here, and more to show."
"Very true," Marcus agreed mildly, "and I look forward to it. I've read the fertility reports and am aware of the crop yield increases, but the grove itself is a mystery to me."
"Then we shall have to change that. Tea?"
"Please."
***
"This one gives mental clarity," Gretched was saying. Marcus wasn't paying too much attention, partly because all the bottles had labels but mostly because he was very, very tired. "That one stimulates magical recovery—though not by much, frankly, and for safety reasons, only one can be taken every few days—the one next to it pushes back the need for sleep, and the last is a nutrition potion meant for emergency situations."
Elly looked them over, then nodded. "That's all pretty much useless to us."
"I'm aware of that," Gretched snapped. She took a breath. "Creating potions with positive effects capable of notably increasing either of your combat prowess and without being horrifically poisonous is proving harder than expected. These are just the ones we have been able to find plentiful ingredients for, and are thus available to the army as a whole."
Marcus hummed, forcefully shaking himself awake. I could use that sleep one, honestly. "Potion making has long been a neglected art, so I'm not surprised it has failed to provide a miracle solution. Even the Empire doesn't employ them on any real scale, and they're obsessed with efficiency. This will be fine, thank you."
"I'm glad," the witch replied. She didn't sound overly glad, but then Elly liked to poke people who she deemed to be 'pokeable'. Mostly meaning people with short tempers. It taught them to behave themselves, or so she claimed. "At the very least, I have finally found a good formula for sea monster blood. The fertilizing properties, when combined with the efforts of third-tier druid spells, are showing very promising results."
Elly made a polite noise of interest, then ruined it by speaking. "I was lured here with the promise of gifts, yet I see no gifts."
Marcus nudged her while Gretched's back was turned, earning him an innocent smile. The witch spoke before he could properly respond. "They're in a secondary room. A ceremony was planned, but that was for tomorrow."
Yeah, I really do just show up whenever, don't I? Horzo was right, that's kind of rude.
"Apologies," he said. "I'm traveling all over the kingdom to settle some last minute arrangements, and it's playing havoc on my schedule."
Gretched cleared her throat, tone softening slightly. "I suppose you two are going to invade a nearly mythical place from which none have returned. Like most, I can come and go when the Gates are created, but not for you. A change of plans seems small in comparison. Come, I shall present the gifts."
Elly perked up, doing that thing where she pretended to lead while actually following the witch. Something about body language and guesswork, though he didn't really care. Gretched did send him an almost pitying smile, though, so that was funny. Something to throw into his wife's face the next time they bickered.
…that sounded bad, but hey, it was the truth. Kind of.
Elly threw open the door as if she owned the place, revealing a small storage room. A table took up nearly half the space, and a bunch of items were arranged under a cloth. Marcus used telekinesis to remove it before Elly could, mostly to spite her.
She was being impatient, and thus got her fun taken away.
Her usual complaints were interrupted by a trove of magical items for her to salivate over, and she immediately gravitated to the sword. It was a near exact copy of her favorite blade, the one that could take Life energy to grow increasingly sharp and durable.
A strip of ivory had been laid along the length of the blade, though, with the metal poured around it. It was absolutely covered in runes, and the handle itself was made out of stark white bone. Elly's grin widened to dangerous levels, though at least she didn't snatch it off the table.
Next to it was a copy of her armor, though to his senses it seemed more refined than their old set. A copy of his own was next to it, which was good. Both of them fought hard, and while their current armor technically still worked fine, the increased number of repairs was showing its damage.
Last was a bone dagger, looking identical to the ones issued to the army. But this one smelled several times more magically dense, and perhaps more interestingly, smelled spatial.
Gretched waved at the table. "Two new sets of armor, having undergone minor upgrades but essentially functioning identically to your old ones. One medium weight set with two magical shields, one light set with one shield. The scale network has been redesigned to offer better protection to the joints and torso."
She indicated the sword. "The blade is attuned to accept Life, as your own already is. But the added ivory increased its magical potential, which allowed the enchanters to add overlapping durability runes. The combination of Life and magic means only that has been added, and while I won't dare you to break it, I do think you'll find it satisfactory."
Elly picked it up, funneling Life into it and inspecting the verdant glow. She seemed satisfied, though neither did she throw her old blade away. That would most likely be saved as a reminder of her homeland.
Gretched turned to the last gift, a note of pride entering her tone. "And last we have the dagger. A project between myself and your apprentices, and one that I convinced them to keep as a surprise. The dagger itself is fairly rudimentary, though its basic enhancements have been crafted by our best. The central formation, however, is—"
"A spatial arc," Marcus finished, snatching it from the table. Elly rolled her eyes. "A channelable spatial arc. That'll be expensive, but it's layered around the edges?"
The witch grinned. "Just so. Barcus noted that spatial arcs are nearly unusable in close quarters, and that your mace becomes vastly less effective at close range. A dagger, one able to cut through nearly anything, should allow you to finish anyone who insists on coming within touching distance."
"We'll have to step up your knife drills," Elly noted. Marcus nodded absentmindedly, weaving the three required matrices. The dagger didn't actually create the spell, but it did offer guidance, and once laid, it took nearly all skill from the spell. He shifted his grip, stabbing forward then up. Elly tsked. "Careful. An infinitely sharp blade can be as dangerous to yourself as your enemy."
Marcus unraveled the weave, turning to Gretched fully. "It's magnificent. My compliments to both yourself and the other crafters."
Gretched lightly inclined her head.
***
The throne room was only half filled today, but all the same, Marcus was glad it was to be his last audience for a long while. He was trained for this, had experience with it, and knew it was necessary, but by the Silent Gods, it was boring.
Lord after lord, baron after baron, all came with some minor issue or complaint. It was their right, something his father had once called 'the right to whine'. Few things got solved, fewer people left happy and everyone lost precious seconds of their life, but all the same, here they were.
It's been a while since I thought of you, father.
Marcus shifted in his seat, and the young lord waxing about his plight flinched like Marcus had brought down the damn roof. The man recovered quickly, though not quickly enough for this room.
Already Marcus could hear the quiet whispers, already he could see the stares, and he knew the young lord was fucked. Sociopaths and monsters, all of them. If someone showed an inch of weakness, they took the arm. Sometimes literally.
"And that is why I implore your majesty to grant my family the right to open new copper mines without the permission of my baron," the lord finished, bowing in a half flourish. "I thank you for your time, my king."
Marcus weighed that. Baron… Baron whatshisname was an isolationist, so usually this would be a matter for Soema. But then the baron had been pushing aggressively against his neighbors, which was the kind of civil strife best dealt with sooner rather than later. Granting one of his lords financial independence would force the man to look inwards, not out.
"Done," Marcus said. The lord looked up, surprised. "A charter will be drawn up and prospectors dispatched to evaluate the sites, paid for by the crown. All other financial burdens will fall on you, and these mines will naturally fall under your usual taxation bracket."
The lord bowed low, clearly unhappy about the crown paying for the initial evaluation. As he should be. It sounded good, but it meant much closer scrutiny from, well, the crown, which few lesser nobles wanted.
A warning, and one that seemed to have come across. The baron might be greedy, but the lord was not only overstepping his direct liege, but their liege as well. Marcus waved his hand, and the court scribe cleared her throat.
"Duke Hargraf to present taxation to the crown."
The court shifted, like a stone hitting a tranquil pond. It was an old custom, a way for the most powerful nobles to show their wealth. Literally, in this case, as their taxes would be physically dragged into the throne room. Usually in the form of gold.
It made for a good show, but it was rarely done, and Marcus could already see loyalists and isolationists starting to whisper. Neither Helios nor Soema were here, and knowing Hargraf, that probably wasn't an accident.
The duke entered through the main doors, and Marcus suppressed a grin. Most of the court looked impressed when the man swept inside, especially with the procession behind him. But Marcus knew that for such an entrance he would have to stand ready, meaning the man had been lurking close to the doors for at least a while.
Still, this wasn't the time for amusement. Hargraf was doing Silent Gods knew what, and grinning at him was unlikely to help.
The duke came to a standstill some two dozen feet from the throne, bowing fluidly. And lowly, which meant this was probably apologetic theater, not treasonous theater.
An improvement, but only just.
"I greet the king," the duke began, "and I present him with the spoils of my land."
Marcus very nearly rolled his eyes at the archaic speech. "The crown welcomes you, Duke Hargraf. What spoils will you bring before me today?"
"Spoils of silver and gold," the man replied easily. Three chests thumped down while he said it, their carriers clearly straining to hold the weight. The lids opened, and the light made the thousands of ducats shine. The actual sum was many times that, Marcus was sure. "The crown has been good to the people, and so the people shall be good to the crown."
That was getting old rather quickly. Here are your taxes from moderate lands. How hard could that possibly be to say?
Hargraf swept out his arm, as if physically embracing the group of people lingering near the door. "Many in my lands have expressed interests in the arcane, and so I bring them to you for teaching and guidance. May they benefit from your wisdom, and you from their labour."
Recruits? Magical recruits? They looked like peasantry—and eager ones at that—so not obvious spies, but Vess and her sisters would have to go over them. Thoroughly.
Marcus nodded to his guards, who moved to take the gold away. "I accept both, as is my due as your liege. How can the crown repay you for your loyal labour, my duke?"
"I seek nothing but service, as is my oath." The man paused for a second, as though reluctant. If Marcus didn't know better, he'd think the duke was having fun. "A small matter may benefit from your wisdom, my king. Many are the tales of Academy scribes venturing into the city, teaching the poor and downtrodden. Uplifting them from destitution not through charity, but honest advancement. I cannot help but wonder if more of the kingdom could not benefit from this."
And let you dangle the carrot of a better life over your people, securing an easy source of mages without paying for their training.
Still, it wasn't a bad idea. The Council of Three would just have to make sure it was more attractive to work in Redwater than to return to their homes, at least for the more skilled among them. And the Academy had just rather massively expanded in size.
Marcus looked down at the duke, not bothering to suppress an amused smile this time.
Let's play then, Hargraf.
***
Marcus only spoke after finishing his doorway, inspecting the formation as he did. The sun tried stubbornly to blind him, though the tree mostly shielded his eyes. It was a beautiful day. "So you understand your duties?"
"To govern while you and the queen are away," Mitzi replied, her tone somewhere between polite and curious. "What are you building?"
He shrugged. "A door. You do understand that if I return, which can happen at pretty much any moment, and I find Hargraf in charge of the kingdom, that I will be quite upset?"
Mitzi nodded slowly, clearly fighting not to stiffen in fear. He didn't enjoy hammering the point home, but he'd rather do this than purge the moderates. "I do. For his own sake if not yours, though only a fool would cross an Archmage."
"There's more fools than most people realize," Marcus muttered. She heard him, of course. Damn Life enhancement. Her expression shifted. "I'm not saying your father is one of them, but he is the only duke to have not yet settled into the new status quo. You love him, which I have no problem with, but you will be governing in my name, not his."
His heir sighed. "I would be happy to give up the title."
"Now that I would like to see Hargraf react to." He shook his head. "But no. You don't really want it, which is why you're the best candidate that we have. That and your ties to the moderates, your upbringing and personal prowess. Speaking of which, I heard your lessons with Elly are going well."
If she was polite to him, now her tone turned almost reverent. "The queen has an intuitive understanding of Life that I'll never be able to match. I'm honored to study under her."
Marcus hummed, letting the matter go. Mitzi understood her role, and everything else was going to play out as it did. Either he would come back to a healthy, loyal kingdom, or he came back with an army, and purged those stupid—and or greedy—enough to take power.
Whichever came, he would be ready.
He shook off the thought, picturing Elly leading their army to cleanse the kingdom. It was amusing enough, mostly because it was unlikely to happen. But unlikely did not mean impossible, and so they would prepare.
The doorway was fine. Marcus straightened, nodding to himself and glancing at the open field. They were not so far from Redwater, but distance didn't matter. This was just a Gate, smaller and quicker to assemble.
His doorway to any Gate he'd ever build.
Marcus activated the connection, feeling his reserves drain. Gates, and the portal spell they were created from, were expensive to activate but cheap to maintain. Considering the doorway was meant to be portable, that meant it was far from efficient.
But efficiency wasn't everything, and when the doorway powered fully, his room came into focus. He stepped through, taking an orange from the table, and rejoined Mitzi. She was looking at his creation with slowly widening eyes, as if it had just occurred to her he could go anywhere, anytime, almost instantly.
Marcus offered her a wedge of fruit, which she took, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sun on his face.
It's going to be a while before I live under your aegis again, bright one. A quick visit now and then, perhaps, but not much more.
The sun didn't respond, and for some reason that struck him as wrong. Marcus shrugged, waving his hand to deactivate the doorway.
Two more days. Then they would descend into the Dungeon, and either they found a solution, or humanity became scavengers in the ruins of their old glory.
Two more days. No time at all.
Afterword
Do check out the new story, if you haven't already. I think you'd like it, and we're so close to Rising Stars I can almost taste it.
New story link: The Call of the Hollow Men
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