65

65

In my hand are six ear piercings. Another set of soulbound artifacts that I made to facilitate communication between each ear piece. One for me then to Kal, Lak, Druig, Dorn, and finally Mal. While Mal is not my children, she is practically our current best support with her handling most of the blood magic to uplift other beastmen with my mutations. So she earned this much. The entire set cost 30 souls as I make sure that connection range is as far as it can be and also secure. How secure I don’t know as this might be the first kind of magic artifact that is primarily used for communication and nothing else. At the very least, the material is a small shard of waystones, so it can still be upgraded if need be.

Current souls: 32

I still have plenty of souls and Waystones as material. No new wishes as of this day though. After this, I plan to make a golem body with the Waystones for Valariel to pilot. Based on what I saw in Sanctuary, she seems to be able to possess the effigies that are dedicated to me. So if I made a huge stone golem or statue dedicated to myself, she can possess it. Of course it needs to be an artifact too. I don’t want to risk her if I can. But trapped in Sanctuary for so long might drive her crazy and this might help her to trust me more. Though I think I will require more souls than what I have

+1 Soul

Hmm? I did not grant any wish. I leave my tent to see Mal, the three eyed beastwoman sacrificing a heavily plagued Eonir to my Herdstone. Though only a few and only the most heavily sick ones. I waited until she finished sacrificing the other ten before approaching her.

“Well done.”

“Mother.” She said and bowed. The entire herd has started calling me mother too.

“Where’s the rest of the plagued Eonir?” I ask as I survey the breeding stocks. The number of Eonir does not really increase.

The point Northwest is taken by Lak with her new army with hundreds of shamans, the current point is guarded by Dorn, and Kal to the Northeast. First I went Northwest. I need to deliver a stern warning to only use magic sparingly, only to empower themselves, and only when necessary. Hopefully this will mitigate the chance of more daemon invasions or other magical mishaps.

—

Back in the border of Nordland

The cavalrymen are led by the Hierophant to a small camp. Though what they see unnerves them to no end. They thought a Hierophant that looks like a porcelain doll is going to be the worst of it but they thought wrong. The camp is divided in half. Half are occupied by normal soldiers and some are witch hunters but half are occupied by wizards. No problem on the former half, the latter half however are different.

Other Hierophants, either look the same like the girl that leads them or have their body glows. Light seemed to be brighter around them. Golden wizards, their entire eyes now fully gilded golden orbs. Some glows like molten metal, some sweat mercury as they perform maintenance on metallic equipment and enchantment. The Life wizards, lethargic in the cold, their skin either have greenish hue or barks and branches grow from their back and shoulder or vines grow from their head. The Celestial wizards with their glowing pale blue eyes, almost transparent and blend into the surrounding. The supposed rare cases of a wizard thoroughly infused by their own magics are now almost common.

They reach the commander’s tent. Hurriedly they dismount, eager to ask what kind of insanity that led the commander to surround themselves with so many wizards. Within, there is Bertrand again, eating his soup. From captain of a thousand men to commander of the currently under test wizard company. The sudden spike of magic in the world sparks a new kind of crisis. The sudden increase of magically gifted individuals that should have never manifested before drives the Colleges of Wizards and Witch Hunter’s thin. The Witch Hunters cannot possibly hunt down all new witches and hedge wizards. While the College, at least the one in Middenheim, whose resources are always limited by the Sigmarites forced to graduate all wizards under their tutelage and send their agents to take in as many magically gifted individuals to save them from being hunted, corrupted by their own magics, or taken in by hidden cult of dark wizards.

“Hmmm. Fuck.” He said as he finished his soup.

And indeed, his new position is all kind of fuck.