Interlude Paradigm Shift (Pt. 1)

Interlude Paradigm Shift (Pt. 1)

(Enuryn the [Naturalist] has opened an online store and you can now commission him to make amazing arts here! https://enuryndraws.art/)

The act of welcoming someone else into your home was a gesture with as much possibility and nuance as any other event that might occur in a social engagement. Not that overthought was always conducive to impressing a guest or making one feel welcome.

The incautious host who threw open the door with arms spread wide could be a thousand times more genial and impressive at once than a display of grandeur. Especially one that felt forced.

Thusly, the small group of Drakes waiting in the anteroom took note of the gesture. Mainly because they knew to look for it. It was as much their culture as anyone elses, yet in this case, Navine Gemscale had read heavily from the enemys playbook as much as she drew from her own.

Enemy. Not in this moment, though. Perhaps, if things went well, not at all. She had to remind herself of that as she adjusted the fashionable gown inset with gemstones, a Salazsarian style that never went out of fashion.

Overtures of Exceeding Conduct by Lady Sevfia El was the book in question that Navine had read. Despite being over two thousand years old, it was still in circulation, and it had endured to the modern day as one of the classic guides to etiquette.

Among Humans, of course. So she was keenly aware of the rich mansion in Oteslia, turning her head to regard the dcor, the two impassive [Butlers] who had ushered the guests in, and even timing how long they were kept waiting.

She hasnt redecorated the Oteslian mansion much. Navine noted that the interior of the mansion-for-rent was kept in the Oteslian stylethat was to say, au naturel. The wood floor was smoothed, grown, not cut out of floorboards, and an interior garden of carefully tended plants replaced other vanities.

It made the antechamber feel quite fresh, if, sometimes, uncannily giving those within the feeling that theyd gone back outdoors by accident.

Indeed, the fresco along the double-staircase leading upwards and meeting at the middle still bore a Drake motif, one of the founding scenes of Oteslia, that of a Dragon helping sow groundor perhaps genially overseeing Drakes and Gnolls planting the land.

Ancestors. Navine felt that Magnolia Reinhart keeping everything so might be an indication of her intent. I shall not overstep my arrival. I do not intend to challenge Drake tradition.

Then again, it could have just as well been a gesture to the contrary; if the gifts she had brought were any indication, Magnolia Reinhart intended to buy as much support as she could, and it was certainly possible given Drakes were the species she had come to woo.

Perhaps, then, the message was: I need not concern myself with lesser displays or redecoration, as the wealth of Humanity, the Five Families of the north, is clear.

As Navine thought, her mother exhaled slowly. Helessia Gemscale still hovered in the air, unable to leave her bed without pain. Yet her frail body had been carefully propped upright, so she sat in a kind of floating bed.

The two Gemscales were among a group of five Drakes who had come for the first congenial visit. Of course, Magnolia Reinhart had been in Oteslia for a while now. She had called on others, though, attended several modest events with the First Gardener.

More were coming to meet Magnolia Reinhart. Navine adjusted the neckline of the dress again. She frowned as she recalled that Manus had yet to send one dignitary, and the fighting had been fierce when others realized some of their people wanted to meet Magnolia Reinhart.

Literal fighting in some cases, not just political sniping. Even meeting a Reinhart was a betrayal of all that was good and Drake.

Navine and her mother had pushed for it, against Zails protests. Surprisingly, Ilvriss had not objected. They were here now, so all that remained was to find out the measure of Magnolia Reinhart. Her reputation was varied, painting her as everything from the heroine from the Antinium Wars to a bloodthirsty tyrant, to a buffoon to

Excuse me.

A voice made the five Drakes start. Navine, jerked out of her thoughts, looked up with Helessia, a Wall Lord and Lady from Oteslia, and a Fissival [Sorcerer] from one of the Walled Families, and saw a [Maid] appear at the stairs head.

Ressa bowed smoothly, her face blank and politely gestured. Two lines of servants headed down the stairs.

Thank you for waiting, esteemed guests. Lady Reinhart awaits you all in the parlor. If you would follow me?

The five Drakes glanced at each other. They had not brought entourages of their own; their [Guards] had stayed outside. That was their big concession to Magnolia, a show of trust. The [Sorcerer] handed his staff to one of the servants. The Wall Lord divested himself of his longsword.

Navine thought that was why they were here, but she realized the [Servants] kept pace, offering a small bevy of refreshments and snacks even before the group had reached the parlor. The mansion was large, but servants filled it.

Lady Navine Gemscale. May I inquire as to your preference for tonights dining? We have a choice of main dishes, although the [Chef] will of course adhere to any preferences or any dietary needs.

A man bowed, murmuring as Navine strode up the steps, her mother following and speaking to a [Maid].

ErIll have whatever ReinhLady Magnolia is having.

Very good, Lady Gemscale. That would be the Zeresian salmon, prepared with a number of fresh selections from Oteslias gardens, including Veil Tomatoes, Somarrots

Navine half-listened, eying the corridors for any new additions, the servants for some naturalistic alteration to the way they stood, their behavior for one of the thousand signals indicated in Overtures of Exceeding Conduct.

She found none. And as she entered the parlor, she felt rattled. The lack of subterfuge only convinced her there was more. But before Navine could talk to her mother about clues she might have missed, or the other three guests

There she was. Magnolia Reinhart turned, a smile on her face that contrived to be welcoming and slightly impish.

Ah, my guests! How good of you to prevail on me! I do hope you enjoy tonights refreshments.

She stood there, in the pink dress and stylish hat and curiously-cut, almost simplistic pink clothing that Navine had seen her wear when she entered Pallass. Navine stopped as the other Drakes nodded, the [Sorcerer] going as far as to bow, and her mother inclined her head with difficulty.

Magnolia Reinhart wore pink like a splash of vibrancy in any setting. Her blonde hair shone, and her skin had no visible flaw, although for anyone with any money, that was not hard. She was far from being as tall as Navine, who was of a height with Ilvriss, and she didnt look like a [Warrior].

You could mistake her for an eager [Socialite] with a penchant for pink. Her sparkling, interested eyes even suggested that. Yet she could alternate between the woman who seemed younger than her age, spritely, to a far more intimidating woman.

The [Lady] swept towards the Drakes, arms outstretched. To Navines astonishment, she took Helessias hand and shook it delicately. Then she did the same to the other three Drakes, ignoring the awkwardness of the Fissival [Sorcerer] and beaming all around.

Aha! Before she came to Navine, the Drake knew what shed done. It was a classic, disarming play of the genial host, honest and bluff as could be. Only, who would buy that with Magnolia Reinhart?

Come, sit. I have a tea table readydo you take sugar with your tea? Ressa, six cubes for me. A favorite flavor? I am delighted to meet you all. Lady Helessiaand this is Lady Navine, isnt it? Ive heard so much about your company in Salazsar. A delight.

She came to Navine. The Drake thought quickly. It was time to show Magnolia how much she was aware of these games of subterfuge. Soas Magnolia held out a hand to shake, Navine instead stepped back, and performed the Izrilian Court-bow.

So named because it was one of the six acceptable bows to be made to other nobles of similar or greater status between different continents that did not adhere to noble rank. Izrilians performed it in Terandrian courts, even to monarchs at times, although this was a slight depending on the situation.

Left hand to chest, four fingers slightly splayedor claws in Navines case, with the pinky tucked inright hand out and behind, but rotated palm towards the other person, unlike many [Courtier]s bows. The retreating leg did not stick out too far, nor did one kneel as deeply. Instead of sinking forwards, it was more of a graceful draw downwards, head tilted as well.

All performed splendidly, if Navine thought so herself. Magnolias eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened in surprise.

My! The Izrilian Court-bow?

A pleasure to meet you, Lady Reinhart. In the name of House Gemscale, I greet you.

Navine even replaced the Gemscale family with an Izrilian title. Magnolia hesitated, as even Helessia blinked at Navines complicated greeting. Navine watched Magnolias face carefully, as Ressa and two [Maids] circulated with the tea cups.

Magnolia Reinharts face was blank for a moment. With shock? Her eyes studied Navine. Thenshe nodded to herself. Navine waited

Overtures of Exceeding Conduct, isnt it? Chapter Six: Polite Unsettlement and Formal Intrigue.

Navine nearly tripped as she rose. Magnolia Reinhart laughed at the younger Drakes expression, then covered her mouth.

Excuse me. Ive read the book cover-to-cover. My tutor, Lady Zanthia, forced all of her young wards to read it. I have no doubt the latest generation of [Ladies] is still suffering from the thing.

You dont adhere to it yourself, Lady Reinhart? I was given to understand it was a staple in Izrils north.

Oh, it is. Do forgive me.

Magnolias eyes sparkled with that mirth as she gestured to the couch. She went on as Navine, feeling as if she were losing each conversatitorial bout, as described in Chapter 8, followed her.

The book is still used by many in the social circles I frequent. However, I dont often make use of its lessons myself. Nor did I bring it with me to Oteslia. Do forgive me, Lady Gemscale. If you would like, we could engage in some diction. However, I hoped Drakes would be more keen to honest communication than my people often employ.

Navine blinked as she found herself sitting on a quite comfortable pink couch that clashed with the nature dcor in the parlor. She looked at Magnolia, who had happily put three more sugar cubes in her tea cup. Even the china set was pink, and yes, it too clashed.

Either this was all an artful ruse, or shemight have just moved into the mansion, ignored stylistic sensibilities, and put whatever she wanted, like the mess of a parlor. If anything, her maid, Ressas face was slightly pained as she set the pink teapot down on the grown-wood table inlaid with carvings of vines.

Without knowing what to say, Navine glanced around at the other Drakes, who were blinking at Magnolias statement.

Wellthat would be refreshing, Lady Reinhart.

Magnolia, please, Lady Navine. If I might do the same? I hope you will enjoy your visit.

Ah, as do we. It is a pleasure to meet a Human willing to make the journey and talk.

Quite so for you as well!

Magnolia beamed. Navines mouth opened and closed.

Well then.

Well then. Shall we begin? I thought it would be excellent to talk about business, perhaps. I understand you, Lord and Lady Barkscale, deal in [Green Mages] and ensuring soil fertility. Navine, Lady Helessia? Gemstones, and Magus Tressl, manufacturing of artifacts? How is business these days? Betimes I think that both our species would benefit if trade flowed from north to south, instead of having to go everywhere else. I can think of a number of artisans and nobles who would eat up gemstones, but we buy them at the same rates as overseas groups. If one managed to open the links between north and south, do you see a future in such a project?

The [Lady]s eyes twinkled. She spoke more like a [Merchant] or one of Navines administrators proposing a new mining shaft than a [Lady]. The Drakes glanced at each other. Navine sipped at her tea.

Strawberry sweet! Not a hint of bitter! Closer to juice than tea! Her forked tongue almost recoiled at the taste.

She looked at Magnolia. The woman had put nine cubes of sugar into this? She found herself studying Magnolia Reinhart again.

And this was just the first meeting. The banquets and larger gatherings were coming up.

-

Magnolia Reinhart met Drakes. In their city. To talk. Not to sign deals. Mainly to talk.

It was just one of the Five Families leaders, too. Not a group of Humans. One Human, who half-poisoned her guests with sugary tea.

Who was as welcome in Drake lands as Drakes were in Human ones, especially in old seats of power. Whose visit might come to nothing.

Yet that talking was a betrayal of all that was held good and dear. It was inexcusable, a traitorous act that deserved no consideration beyond branding as such and stigmatization by all good nobles of Izril!

That was Lord Tyrion Veltras position, which he painstakingly explained to his sons over breakfast. He had trouble, despite this being a line most nobles were at home with.

Mainly because Sammy kept asking why? every few seconds, and Hethon, despite his best efforts, was still too sleepy to give the responses his father wanted.

Because, Sammial Veltras, Drakes have been the enemy of our species as long as our people landed on Izril. Even before then, Dragons and Drakes were long the enemy of Terandria. Our generation owes no less a debt of vengeance against them than our ancestors.

Why?

Lord Veltras left eye twitched. Hethon nudged his younger brother under the table, noting all the warning signs. At this point Sammial was doing it on purpose.

Tyrion controlled his temper and took it from another angle with effort. He closed his eyes, then spoke.

To speak with a Drake isacceptable. A [Captain], a [Merchant]none of these things would give me pause. To negotiate with the ruling body of Drakes, however, in any conciliatory effort is wrong. Does that make sense, Sammial?

No. Why is it bad?

Sammy kicked his legs under the table, glancing around impatiently. There were far, far more interesting things to do than be told what hed heard a thousand times. He didnt seem to understand that the more questions he asked, the longer hed be lectured. He glanced towards the other head of the small table as his father took a breath.

Drakes are not to be trusted, at least where the interests of our House and that of the north align. They protect their species, as we must ours.

So I cant trust them?

No.

Why not a nice one?

Sammial scratched at his nose. His father took a long, long breath. Then another.

We aretechnicallystill in a state of war with the Drakes. Thus, each Drake is potentially an enemy, Sammial Veltras. Not in practice, but you should not trust any of them. Is that clear?

Sammial scowled, but another nudge from Hethon and he might have nodded, just to be done with the conversation. However, at that precise moment, someone else leaned into the conversation, unable to help herself.

No Drakes at all? What aboutSaliss of Lights?

Ryoka Griffin knew it was a bad idea. Shed improved on her temper, her fat mouth, she really had! Sometimes thoughold Ryoka jumped out.

Hethon could kick Sammial under the table, but Jericha, hovering by the small breakfast party, could not. If she could, she probably would have done a running kick straight into Ryokas lower back.

Lord Tyrions head rotated slowly. He looked about to snapthen seemed to realize that Ryoka was not Sammial. Hethon stared at the Wind Runner as Tyrion had to rapidly reorganize his thoughts.

I amaware of my debt to certain individuals, Miss Ryoka. However, I remind you that Saliss of Lights is a Named Adventurer who has fought alongside Pallass army.

So you wouldnt trust him at all? Or speak to him?

Ryoka suppressed a smile as Lord Tyrion hesitated and glanced at his children, whom Saliss of Lights had himself saved. Sammy and Hethon both looked at their father, then at Ryoka. Jerichas teeth ground together.

Magnolia Reinhart is a separate issue from House Veltras. It may be she has some scheme in any case. Just be aware of House Reinharts penchant for underhandedness, Hethon, Sammial.

Lord Tyrion neatly escaped the closing verbal trap and turned to Ryoka.

Miss Ryoka, would you care to speak with me in theparlor?

He glanced around. This was not the keep; they were on another holding of House Veltras, having yet to return home at their far more leisurely pace when Ryoka found them. Ryoka opened her mouth as she nodded, but Hethon and Sammial burst in.

No fair! She promised shed let us fly!

Sammial! Behave yourself!

Ryoka saw Tyrion glare at his son. However, everyone knew that when Sammial wanted somethingRyoka lifted her left hand.

I can let the two fly about. Any kids who want to as well. Its no trouble.

If your business is urgent

After, then. I could even kick a soccer ball around with them. From the television? I think I have one or two in my bag of holding. Souvenirs.

Really?

The two boys were agog. Tyrion himself raised his brows.

That would be quite acceptable. My sons had been asking Jericha to procure them. Might we purchase one?

It would be a gift. Actually, I think theyre signed too. By Joseph.

Joseph the Football player?

Hethon nearly choked on his drink. Ryoka smiled. She looked at Tyrion, who was blinking.

You know the young man personally?

Weve met.

Ironically through Magnolia Reinhart. Ryoka looked at Tyrion.

Its a fun game. I can teach you two if you dont know. Have you ever played, Lord Veltras?

Im sure Lord Veltras is too busy for suchgames, Miss Griffin.

Jericha spoke stiffly. Tyrion blinked.

I have not. However, if Hethon and Sammial insist, I would not take it amiss, Jericha.

The aide nodded stiffly. Ryoka smiled. She turned as Hethon and Sammial begged to see the soccer ball and play.

Just for a bit. I dont think an hour will make much of a difference. I met Joseph in Liscor, by the way, Lord Tyrion. The ball was made by a Drake, Im pretty sure. Theyre very hospitable. Honorable too, some of them, like every species. You might like them.

Another smile. She really couldnt help it. Lord Tyrion turned into a statue as Ryoka produced the Drake-manufactured ball. Sammy grabbed it, and Hethon raced after him. After a second, he nodded and followed them.

I look forwards to learning this sport. Perhaps it could be an additional source of income for [Leatherworkers] in House Veltras.

Ryoka was surprised by this. She kept feeling like she was pushing her luck, especially with how touchy Lord Tyrion was known to be. Except he never called her on it. She followed him after a beat, reminding herself not to push too far

The Courier tripped and went sprawling as she went through the doorway. Jericha withdrew the foot after a second and called out innocently.

Are you quite alright, Miss Griffin?

-

Lord Tyrion Veltras was not the only person who had gripes with Magnolia Reinhart and the Drakes, of course. However, someone was there tochange his mind.

Or at least, present the counterargument no one else would voice. It wasquite worrying, actually. To someone who didnt like unknown variables, Ryoka Griffin was one such. They would have been far more worried, of course, if they could have heard the breakfast conversation.

However, that was neither here nor there. To all intents and purposes, everyone knew that Lord Tyrion was just taking a break with his sons, no doubt seeing how close he had come to losing them after the poisoning and Circle of Thorns incident. He had attended that strange party, but that had clearly been a favor for the Wind Runner.

Nothing more would come of it. Variables were all accounted for, at least for now. Magnolia Reinhart nowshe was a concern.

Yet again, the question was who would place her at the top of their priority list? Oh, every noble might grumble privately about the Drakes and Magnolia, but nothing major had come of it. She was one noble, for all she was head of the Reinhart family. There were bigger fish to explode.

Rhirs ritual. The King of Destruction. The Death of Magic returning, that damned [Emperor] that had appeared like a mushroom, the war in Ailendamus threatening trade andof course, the Circle of Thorns.

It seemed like a long time had passed since the Circle had been the unspoken threat, then the visible target. Yet it had only been a month and a half.

The Circles power had broken, though. Shattered. Now, the remaining members were fleeing or giving themselves up.

Just yesterday, one of the Isond house had given himself up, forswearing his role in the Circle, claiming he had just been taking part as a social act, rather than involved in any of the heinous treachery theyd been up to. He disavowed himself publicallyespecially because the Wellfar Familys greatest warship, Pride of the Wellfar, had sailed into the harbor with all magical armaments primed to fire, led by the son of Gresaria Wellfar to accuse Lord Atnel Isond of the association.

The sight of one of the last of the three Citadel-class warships aiming enough weapons to turn your home and the entire harbor to dust in your directionnot to mention the crew of thousands who could probably take the entire harbor without needing to use a single of the warships weaponshad a remarkably liberating effect on guilty consciences.

Atnel was just one minor headline, of course. While his family disavowed his actions and had to pay penalties, sometimes monetary, and certainly politically, the hunt continued.

Not a [Witch]-hunt incidentally, because few of the Circle of Thorns lesser members could fly. Also, many forswore themselves voluntarily rather than stick by the secret society.

The [Assassins] were purged, at least eighteen of the Guild of Assassins hideouts having been destroyed and few daring to claim association. The nobility had given themselves up, or gone to ground and it was doubtful any of them would admit to being a member, unless the information was already known.

The Circle of Thorns is in ruins! The nobles have fledseveral have been executed or taken their own lives, the lesser ones, at any rate. The Guild of Assassins, which long shielded Izril against foreign threats for all they were a tool, has also been destroyed. Countless deaths, all of which serve to weaken the north against foreign aggression!

That was where it stood. In the secret room, where the Thorns of Death had once met, the great secret had been unveiled.

Two thirds of the inner-most ranks of the Circle of Thorns, the appropriately named, if somewhat exaggerated, Thorns of Death, had actually been foreign agents whod risen through the ranks, contributing money and power to manipulate the Circle into attacking Izrils nobles, effectively destroying itself from within.

What an embarrassment. What a disaster. The empty places where the magical projections of each Thorn of Death had beencamouflaged to avoid identification even hereformed a circle, of course. The actual location hadnt mattered to most; it was just a meeting place, suitably ostentatious and dramatic to make them feel like a proper cult, a way to gain power in secret that they could not directly.

The Circle of Thorns was dead and dying. Its members had died across Izril in vain. The last time this place had been active, it had rung with the contemptuous, raucous applause of the traitors within, laughing at the fools whod actually believed what they had been doing was anything approaching intelligent or covert.

In the empty room, applause rang once more. Clapping hands. Not the loud effect of many hands clapping. This time

Just two. Yet, the two glowing images applauded merrily, each other as much as the statement of the Circle of Thorns demise.

What a slaughter! What a disaster!

One exclaimed, his voice jovial. The others was older, and he stopped clapping first, growing tired of the theatrics.

As miserable a lot as one could imagine. A secret society riddled with infiltrators. They applauded themselves.

The first figure nodded. He was not, in fact, disguised by a veiling spell. More importantlythe glowing aura around him faded. The semi-translucent effect ended. Revealing a man, brushing at dark, plain travelling clothes that gave little away.

The great magic that the other Thorns of Death had used to communicate live in this way was real. Yet they had never thought to wonder if someone might be tricking them into thinking they werent actually in this room. The second glowing figure stepped out of his position in the circle as well.

It all went exactly as you said it would. I had a hard time keeping from laughing.

The first man confided in the second. The two were unevennot completely lopsided, but the first was stouter, shorter, than the second. Not stout or short per se; the second man was tall and thin enough to be willowy, and older by far. He walked with a slight stoop, and his voice echoed slightly as he and the other man walked across the large room.

The Guild dying was a painful loss. It has been used as a petty tool between ourselves, yet it did frighten our enemies. More than one invading [General] died with their throats cut before they even set foot on this land.

True, true. I can see the value, although it strikes me that it was more of a tool forthe nobility. So to Rhirs hell with the guild, if you dont mind me saying. Ive used their services, and Im a small patriot for my home. But I wont mourn their loss. Theyll pop back up after a few decades, anyways.

The second man turned to the first.

Sooner. We must make certain of that. I said it was regrettable, however necessary. Now, come along. I dont have much time. If its noticed Ive gone

There was certainly a power differential here. The first man trailed after the taller one, stopping well short of him, never interrupting, his voice respectful.

However, neither man was exactly used to subservience. Both talked with authority. Yet the taller, older one clearly knew everything, while the other did not, and the lack of knowledge bothered him.

Why do you have such a problem with Magnolia Reinhart, though? Of all the issues facing the northher?

Her.

The taller man was leading them down a staircase. This room was part of a stronghold, typically buried underground. Few places aboveground were so easy to hide such places, and the first man had been surprised by how spacious this headquarters of the Circle of Thorns was.

A proper damn fortress. Id hate to be subject to poison gas spells down here, but give me a gang and enough arrows and [Mages] and I could hold this place against an army. No wonder the Circle of Thorns existed for so long.

He stretched his legs as he walked; it had been a long ride in the Unmarked Coach, and Karsaeu had been forced to make a few detours for the other travellers. He had been sorely tempted to tell her not to pick up any passengers, but it was a bad look. The Unmarked Coach ran for anyone who needed itwho could pay, of courseand even the owner had to respect that.

The man. At this point, it was probably wrong to think of him just as a man. He owned the Unmarked Coach, the famous, secret counterpart to Magnolia Reinharts coach, the [Lady] of which was the subject of this worry. It was best to think of him, then, as a[Merchant]. A [Broker]. However, both those ideas suggested someone whose entire job revolved around such things and while he did do both, if he lost his clients, he would not be at a loss.

Ratherhe could be thought of by his main class.

[Artifact Collector]. The Djinnis bottle was still among one of his greatest possessions. Yet the collector of secrets and wealth counted this association nearly as valuable.

The collector glanced up at his companion as they walked further down. The older man still hadnt shed the magical effect from before, but the other made no comment.

Why Reinhart? Ive heard shes actually not as savvy as one imagines. The Deadly Flower of the North, and all that. Grasp at her and shell draw blood. Leave her alone though? Ive had little trouble from her. Shes not the subtle manipulator that gives me nightmares at night.

He pressed the other. He had a number of people he did have nightmares about, and had added the Death of Magic to that list. However, his companion disagreed.

You dont believe shes subtle?

I saw her maneuver with the Antinium. Ill grant you it was slybut rather like a [Thug] slapping the back of your head with a club when you werent looking, as opposed to something artful, if you dont mind me saying. Shes cleverbut not all that.

The other figure snorted.

If you think Magnolia Reinhart is anything less than one of the best experts in manipulation and intrigue in all of Izril, you are a fool. What you see as a lack of machinations that manifest into perfect plans that dazzle the mind, I see as true intelligence. Are you in love with stories about architects of politics, cunning [Lords] or rulers who balance enemy intrigues on a needle and let their enemies kill themselves on their own weapons?

The collector slowed, a bit embarrassed and irked by the needling tone. Of course, he was used to the superior attitude from his companion.

I do enjoy that kind of thing, yes. What of it? Magnolia Reinhart just doesnt strike me as that sort.

Thats because shes better than a plotter. Do you know why grand, twisting schemes are stupid? Its because idiots always ruin something. The more complex a plan, the easier it is to fall apart. And if it succeeds? 99% of people will never figure out what was done unless you tell them. So why bother?

Your real foes would take note.

The collector rejoined, hurt at the affront to elegant machinations. The second snorted.

They descended twisting stairways, much like roots, growing narrower, deeper and deeper. The collector tried to count how many feet theyd gone down. He gave up after four hundred. The second man was deactivating wards and traps, stopping every now and then, so they had plenty of time to talk.

Let me tell you about a great [Mastermind]. The story was, he was so clever he could manipulate armies into attacking each other. He played his enemies like fiddles, and even the Walled Cities had fallen prey to his schemes. One day, he fixed his sights on a foe known to be just as clever. He enacted a dazzling plan to ensnare the other [Lord] and not only destroy him politically, but tear his allies apart, ruin him until the man would take his own life.

Ah. I assume from this story it didnt go that way?

The other figure stopped, raising a palm to touch the wall. He stared back at the collector, who was panting from the low oxygen in these places that hadnt been unsealed for centuries, perhaps longer.

The man was Lefis Reinhart. At a ball where the two men met, before the [Mastermind]s great plans would begin to inevitably close, Lefis greeted his opponent on the dance floor. He then drew a dagger, ran the other man through, and walked off. The [Mastermind] died in a pool of blood and few remember he ever existed. Lefis lived for seventy more years.

Am I to be impressed with Lefis? It seemed like the [Lord] got lucky.

An arched brow, and a sneer. From anyone else, this much continued disrespect would have made the [Artifact Collector] act. Yet he held his growing irritation in check. He knew when to be respectful, even now.

Really. You think so? The point is this: a master [Assassin] can sneak up behind you as you go about your day, wound you, then heal you and slide away such that you dont even notice you were hurt until you drop dead a month later. In the meantime, your common [Thug] can knife a hundred foes and spare himself the effort. Magnolia knows when to be direct, and she does it because it works. She forced Tyrion Veltras to hold off taking Liscor, when we wanted him to.

A finger stabbed at the collector, almost triumphantly.

Thats how a Reinhart works. When a Reinhart stabs you, they dont just twist the dagger, theyve already signed it. Who cares about subtlety when your enemies lie dead?

You cant hold dominion by terror alone. Most accounts Ive read agree on that.

The younger man protested. The older snorted.

So says those who have never done it properly. Terror can last until the tyrant lies dead, and who cares after that? Besides which, the really good tyrants just reanimate their corpses or prolong their life. Be direct. Just blast armies to death. Do it enough times and no one bothers you, I can assure you.

The collector conceded the point, albeit reluctantly. The two continued their journey down.

So Magnolia meeting the Drakes?

Bad. Very bad. Shes conspiring with the enemy and shes doing it directly. Magnolia is a genius, even by Reinhart standards. Shes good at the family tradition.

Which is?

Killing people.

Again, the second figure stopped. He looked back, and his glowing features twisted up into a smile. Which surprised the collector.

Do you know how many killers her own family sent against her? How bloody the Reinharts were until she took over? Her own father tried to murder her with an army of [Mercenaries] on her fourteenth birthday, and all she had was a single barely-graduated [Assassin]! She walked out of her 20th birthday as head of the Reinhart family with a tame Dragon and all of Izril hailing her as the hero of the Antinium wars.

Dragon. The first man inhaled, but the second didnt care. He went on, smiling, fondlythen his features clouded, turned bitter.

Her fault was she grew soft. She stopped using her talents and used all the other tricks when one solves them all. Look at Izril now. Haunted by Goblin Lords, Antiniumand foreign powers gnawing at us.

And what weve done is just eliminate the Circle of Thorns, the one group that was supposed to help protect Izril. Unless Im wrong? And youre betraying Magnolia Reinhart, if you dont mind me pointing it out. Actually, Ill point it out either way. Will you explain the logic of all this or do I need to get Karsaeu to figure it out for me?

The eyes of the taller man met his. Contempt, as arrogant as that of Dragons, flashed through his eyes. Old eyes. Older than even the Djinni the [Artifact Collector] possessed.

He had not dropped the magical aura that made him seem like the other projectionsbecause there was no need to. Or rather, he could not. Regis Reinhart sneered down at the mortal man.

Magnolia Reinhart is my kin. I would have put the Circle behind her if she stayed true to the most basic beliefs of our family. Even now, I would not count her as an enemy. She was the one who threatened to kill me. Me! To have that damned lover of hers plunder my treasures, erase me!

He snarled. The [Artifact Collector] held up his hands.

Regis Reinhart, in the flesh. Orthe bound spirit of his. He was here, out of his vault. The collector had no idea hed been able to do that. In their association, made because of their shared passions, the mortal man had slowly become aware of how much power Regis had in secret, in undercurrents. When Regis had told him about the Circle of Thorns

Well, here they were. Underneath the Reinhart estates, the magical vault lacked for Regis Reinhart. The four [Maids] spoke, talking to each other, holding each other, where they refused to speak while he was there. If anyone had checkedbut only Magnolia dared descend so casually.

Regis continued moving after a moment.

Do you think all of this was an accident, Merlilon? The Circle coming together after being destroyed by Magnolias grandmother? Failing so spectacularly?

Merlilon hesitated. He disliked people using his name, even in this most secret of places.

You made sure I saw how deliberate it was. I still dont understand why.

Regis looked back. They had come to the final door. Merlilons hair stood up at the thrum of power on the ward, and he moved back, checking his Ring of Protection. That damned girl had taken the lesser one and he wanted it back!

Two things could have happened. Either the Circle succeeded and gained Tyrion Veltras, and continued to rise in poweror they imploded. Frankly, the latter was always likelier. Secret societies, like your beloved plots, tend to fail because of how ridiculous they are.

Merlilon bit back a response. He couldnt hurt Regis anyways, and he wasunsureif the same held true in reverse. As the door opened, he smelled something familiar below. He hesitated, as Regis beckoned him into the final room.

Why let the Circle act at all?

Because I made it. I created the first gathering. I paid for this place, before I died! I would have used it for my niece tootell me, Merlilon. Youre clever enough. What is smarter than creating a secret society that can fail and is full of mortal failingssave for one? Especially since I do not always join each iteration?

The [Artifact Collector] thought it over. The answer came too soon from Regis own mouth. Slowly, Merlilon descended and saw the truth.

The answer is simple: even if they fail, they succeed! Create a system by which even fools fall upwards! We can cast a spell to change gravity. So why not channel the power of Izrils nobility, no matter how pathetic they become?

Regis Reinhart stood in the center of a large, circular room at the bottom of the secret stronghold of the Circle of Thorns. So far down, so hidden, that even other generations of the Circle had never found it.

Here was the real secret of the Circle. As Merlilon descended, holding a glowing wand made of glass, ready to blast this place with the Tier 6 spell contained within and run if this was a traphe saw it.

This circular room was not just some amphitheater or another conference room. It was a large, vast, roundedbasin.

The walls of stone sloped down the room, to settle at the bottom. Yet Merlilon barely saw the naked stone. Each line of the wall was covered in red.

Runes, as intricate as any hed ever seen. More intricate than the spell he had used when he had taken command of Karsaeu! They were pulsating. Runningliquid and wet.

With blood. It trickled down with every second, along the patterns of magical lines in the air. That was what hed smelled which hed known.

Blood. Blood magic. Merlilons stomach heaved. His eyes rolled wildly and his mind swayed in the center of the room. Only experience saved him from madness orworse. He closed his eyes, looking at the steps, at Regis. The world stopped imploding.

My nose is bleeding. He wiped at it, and saw blood droplets lifting upwards. They floated upand leftjoining the slick walls.

Merlilon had seen a lot of things that would give other people nightmares, and still lingered in his. However, this? This was as bad as it got. He swallowed hard.

Regis. What am I staring at?

Old magic. The same [Necromancer] who helped me live made this place with his last great magic. Blood magic. You know what this is?

Amass spell of some kind. A huge radius!

It had to be. The entire room was given over to some great working of so many parts he couldnt guess at what it was. He doubted even his Djinni could have. Regis lifted a finger, the eyes of the curious collector of treasures lighting up with glee as he lectured his younger companion.

Not just that! This is a kind of magic beyond just a single spell of many parts! Thisis a ritual spell. A spell with a radius that spans half a continentalthough it requires certain components for activation. And do you know what it does?

The pieces fell into place. Slowly, Merlilon stared at something on his arms.

The Thorns of Death, like all the Circle, had to undergo certain rites. The most junior members got a single mark, but like the Guild of Assassins, as one progressed, they grew more intricate.

Each one swore themselves to the Circle of Thorns. It washe had assumed, mostly loyalty spells. The significance dug into him now. He looked at the blood.

The Circles blood.

Correct!

Regis read his mind. He waved at the running walls.

Each member of the Circle serves a greater calling, even in death. Fail or succeed. Triumph or diethe Circle of Thorns grows. Hence the name.

Ah. Merlilon understood the joke. Could anyone walk through the Circle of Thorns without paying a blood toll? And like thathe looked down at the basin.

It was far too shallow for how much blood had been spilt. How much blood had been spilt before, accumulating in the center. Nor did it look likeblood. Not blood proper. It was thicker, darker, with a depth in which he thought he saw

What happens now? Do you kill me and complete thisthis ritual?

He raised the wand slowly, knowing it was no use. Regis just stared at him. Then laughed.

Merlilon. Merlilon! Did you not hear a word of what I said? A Reinhart plays no games! If I wanted you dead, Id have had you murdered! No, this is the start. The start of the true Circle. Of course, well call ourselves something different. The Guild of Assassins was getting complacent, which was why I allowed it to die with the Circle. Both need to be reforged. Somethingis happening.

He frowned, becoming uncertain, like he had when he mentioned the party at the Summer Solstice. Merlilon licked his lips.

The King of Destruction? Or, you mean the Death of Magic?

Neither. I have seen worse. I have seen that Dragons kin die screaming! I have survived it all, Merlilon. Something else is happening. It came to a head at the Summer Solstice and I like it not at all. Ifeel it. I am afraid. Afraid of death. The Circle must be reborn. So I will use every drop of blood here if I must.

What does that basin do? Conjuresomething? Cast a Tier 9 spell to wipe out your foes?

The man was backing up the stairs, unwilling to stare around this room any longer. Regis eyed him, disappointed. He had hoped for better.

No. No, the Circle and this place was meant to guard Izril. A last resort to be used when too much blood had been shed. In other eras, when the Flowers of Izril died almost as much as the Goblin Kings rampageI unveiled the Circle. I saved them, by giving some power. Thus[Assassins] will become a new guild. A better guild. There are still agents of the Circle. They will come here.

And do what?

A hysterical note had entered Merlilons voice. He couldnt tear his eyes away from the pool of blood. It looked like it was sucking him in, even high as it was. He turned for Regisno, the door! Hed be damned if he

Be remade. Better. Go on.

Regis was behind him. The ghost had gone through the walls. He reached out and pushed Merlilon, gently.ViiSiit novelbi/n(.)c/(o)m for latest novels

The man fell, screaming. Not towards the ground, but directly into the pool. Somehowgravity had drawn him into that center. He plunged into the liquid, but there was no splash. He sank deeper, deeper

Regis sat on the stairs, watching. Waiting.

-

Later that day, hours later, Karsaeu-Dequoa was checking her internal clock. Her master, whom she would fain see dead, was smart enough to have ordered her to go after him if enough time had elapsed.

Surely the damned ghost knew it too, yet the time was nearly up. Well, Karsaeu would relish battling a spirit. She drew herself up, eyes narrowed

When a man emerged from the stronghold. The Djinni stopped. She stared as Merlilon walked out, steps light, smiling widely.

Master?

Hed ordered her to call him that. Of Regis, there was no sign. Karseaus eyes narrowed. She floated back towards the carriage which was her body, albeit disguised, uncertainly. She conjured lightning out of magic, herself, and held her ground.

Karsy! Whats the matter? Dont you recognize me?

No.

The Djinni regarded the man warily. Shefeltthe same need to obey. The same magical bonds. Yet if she had hair on her body to raise, it would be standing up.

What are you?

Merlilon. Justbetter. Come on, open up. We have lots of work to do.

She shuddered as the door of the Unmarked Coach opened. Merlilon climbed inside. He sat there, humming to himself, all grudges towards Regis forgotten. He had gotten the full treatment of course. Not any half-measures, not for the mortal collaborator to Regis.

Even a Vampire would envy him. He wondered just how strong he was. Not just strong; well, hed get Karsaeu to help him figure out just what had changed. He laughed, again, picking out names for the best of the Circle of Thorns agents. The very best. [Assassins] too. It was a limited resource.

-

It was only full moons. Two of them, a rare astrological event, yet so what? The moons were only bodies of matter that reflected light. They were not special; it was superstition that governed full moons having any auspicious events.

Or else why would it matter that the moons were full at night? They were full in the daytime too. You just couldnt see them.

The naysayers and fools who thought like this had no appreciation for the fact that time and place did matter. The funny thing was that they were right.

When a moon was full, it was always full even if you couldnt see it.

It was just a matter of perspective.

Still, Dramaw didnt think of the celestial event, or bother with such childish things. He was sharpening his teeth as he reclined in one of the hiding places his gang had bought.

Dramaw, known for his biting ability. His name and abilities had actually come about after an accident which hadnt been lucky; someone punching out a number of teeth in a bloody brawl that had left five people dead.

However, the Gnoll [Underworld Mercenary] had been resourceful and turned the bad stroke of luck into an advantage, replacing his teeth with custom, steel teeth. Serrated edges, even poison if need be. When he bit youyou felt it.

He cursed as he nicked a finger in the dim, half-rotten hole of a hiding place. This was not where hed prefer to be, but this damned Drake city had few amenities. Their criminal underworld had all the depth of a glass of water. Which of course meant that Dramaw and his gang could run amok without the Watch to stop them, and then bail when it got too hot.

However, the prospects of meager earnings were not enticing to the Gnoll. He growled; he was in a bad mood. Theyd come all the way up this far northfurther still, actuallythen had come back this way, barely making any money and wasting time.

His gang was small, but deadly. Dangerous Gnolls, each one capable of walking into a city and turning it on its head. Only Pallass and the best cities had the law enforcement to tangle with them. Recently thoughtheyd suffered setbacks.

One of their members had died. She had been good, too. The fact that shed bit it in a no-name, border city like Liscor infuriated Dramaw. Not least because it was all the fat coin down the drain. He snarled, throwing his whetstone at a bug running for a crack in the wall.

That made the following incident all the more curious to Dramaw. One of the two Gnolls whod come with him spoke via a speaking stone on Dramaws table.

Boss? Boss.

What?

The Gnoll snarled back. The younger Gnoll, Shank, since he had no good name yet, was breathy. Something had scared him and Dramaw tensed reflexively. Was it the Watch? Bounty hunters?

Boss. I just saw Bearclaw.

What?

Dramaw sat up. Shank spoke, urgently.

I was in the tavern and she walked in and signaled me. Bearclaw!

Youre mad. Theres no way it was her. Some Senior Guardsman did her in.

I swear, Boss! You know Bearclaw! You cant just look like her!

That was true. Dramaw hesitated. Bearclaw? She had to know they were here; this was one of the cities theyd fallen back to. If shed survived, if the Watch had been wrongof course she was here!

Where is she now?

Dont know. Should I try to find her? I just saw her from across the bar

Yes, damn it! Find her!

Dramaw sat up. He was going to tear strips off Bearclaw, but her returning was something! If she hadnt gotten that White Gnoll thoughwell, it might have been too hot in Liscor after the Senior Guardsman.

He was debating how to respond to her and assert discipline; shed fight back if he provoked her, but he needed to punish her. Dramaw was getting up when someone knocked on the door, using his gangs code-sign.

Dramaw? You there?

The Gnolls head turned.

Bearclaw?

He got up from his desk, slowly. Warily too; he wasnt an idiot. If this was some Watch trapthe Gnoll walked towards the door.

The gang in this city had poor safe houses, but they werent complete idiots. He opened the spyhole, tilting the metal cover, and stared through the plain glass hole. He sawthe Gnolls eyes widened.

Bearclaw stood in the dark alleyway, amid the shadows and trash. It was her! There was no mistaking that burly form! He spoke, loud enough to be heard through that door.

Bearclaw, you bitch! Why didnt you send word you were alive?

Had to keep moving. They were on my tail. Mind letting me in already, Dramaw?

He nodded, and began to work at the locks. Thenthe Gnoll hesitated. He glanced through the peephole again.

It was Bearclaw, wasnt it? She looked like her. She was standing back, to get into full frame of the spyhole for him. Yet the Gnoll felt a little prickling of unease.

One second, Bearclaw. Just let me check something. What was the last thing I said to you?

The big Gnoll paused. She spoke after a moment.

dont screw this one up. But get us that bounty and Ill let you take half of our people and start your own group. Under me.

Dramaw relaxed, slightly. That was true. He began to open the door. It budged open a crack and then a chance breeze blew down the alleyway.

The scent of the street, the city, refuse, piss, and Bearclaw blew into the little room. Dramaw sneezedthen coughed. And coughed again. His paw froze on the door.

Bearclaw? Whats up? You dontsmell

The scent of blood and death filled his nose. Not that he hadnt smelled that before many times with Bearclaw. Yet this smelled like old death. Underneath it

Bearclaw tried the doors handle and it didnt move. The door had re-shut. She pulled on the door, gently, then harder.

Dramaw? Whats wrong?

There was no answer at first. Then a slight sound as the other Gnoll adjusted the cover of the spyhole again. His voice was muffled from within the safe house.

What have you done with Bearclaw?

The female Gnoll laughed, derisively, and slapped her chest.

Dont mess me about, Dramaw! Its me!

There was no response. The leader of the gang looked down from behind the now too-thin door. His paws were shaking.

Youre not the Watch. What in the name of Rhirs hells are you?

Bearclaw stepped back. For a second, he thought shed curse him out and hit the door. Thenthe figure began to chuckle. Dramaw stared as, suddenly, Bearclawvanished.

Something, someone far taller and bigger than even the Gnoll woman adjusted herself. The cloak she wore, the ragged clothing, shifted as the breeze blew again. Dramaws eyes widened as he saw and realized

That wasnt a cloak. That was Bearclaws

That was Bearclaw.

He leapt back, scrambling for his speaking stone. Outside, someone began to try the handle, pulling, hard. Yet the enchanted door had enough strength to resist whatever it was.

Come now, let me in. I didnt think you were a coward.

Shank, Beilfang, report!

Dramaw was scrambling for his speaking stone. He watched the door, grabbing for his weapons. He heard a muffled soundthen one voice.

Boss? What is it? Did you find Bearclaw?

No! Thats not Bearclaw! Beilfang! I dont care if youre shitting or in bed, respond!

There was no response. Dramaws fur began to stand up taller. He stared at the door, now rattling as something hit it.

Boss?

Shank was worried. Dramaw spoke, rapidly.

Shanks, thats not Bearclaw. I dont know what got her, but get out of the city. Shes right outside the safe room. She wants meshe might have gotten Beilfang.

The other Gnoll swore. Dramaw shouted.

Shanks? Get out of the city! Dont go to any of the safe houses! She knows all of them! Go to where we last were on our way here! Move!

Got it!

The Gnoll was already running, cursing, when the speaking stones sounds died. Dramaw crept back to the door. Therehe saw her again.

She was standing in the alleyway. Her, and two more. Giantshe rubbed at one eye. They looked like Gnolls. Until you stared at them closely and realized what they were wearing. Until you smelled them.

What the hell do you want?

Two moved off, into the street. After Shank. The lastBearclawturned back to him. She grinned, and Dramaw recoiled slowly.

Its so hard to find people no one misses. Bad little Gnolls are easiest because no one knows theyre there. Dont you want to know what happened to your friend?

Dramaw backed up as Nokha pressed herself against the door, a huge eye peering in at him.

GetgetI dont know what you are, but Ill find you and youll regret this.

With shaking paws, he slid the cover of the spyhole shut. He heard laughter from outside. The door began to move again, as something huge struck it. It wouldnt last forever.

Yet Dramaw didnt wait. He turned, and ran across the room for his belongings, and the secondary bolt-hole. No safe house had just one entrance. He was leaving. Damn this region! He was heading south, away from the Bloodfields and whatever cursed thing had gotten Bearclaw. If Shanks lived

The secret passage led outside, through another building. It had to be magically unsealed. The door shook behind him. Dramaw undid the magicand hurtled through the second exit as he heard the door begin to crack behind him.

It only occurred to him then, as the door flew open and he crashed into a huge, furry chest, smelling of the same foul odor as Bearclaw, that he had made a mistake.

Whatever wore her skin had known everything Bearclaw did. Which meant it also knew about the bolt hole

The Gnoll screamed once as the Raskghar grabbed him. Then, the predator of Gnolls undid the door and let Nokha in. She shut the door, and grinned. The two full moons shone, giving her kind intelligence and strength beyond compare.

At this point though, it didnt matter. They didnt need the full moons anymore.

Finish up. Hurry up. We have to move south faster.

She told the Raskghar. She had heard about the Meeting of Tribes. It sounded like exactly the sort of thing she wanted to visit. After allher kin were going there too. Normally Raskghar wouldnt be welcome, of course. YetNokha checked the cloak she wore and smiled.

It was just a matter of perspective.

-

On the day when two moons shone bright over the world, Lady Rie Valerund cried out. Her skin burned.

Faint, nigh-invisible marks along her arms flared to life. Burning with an agony unmatched.

Thenabruptlystopped. Yet the pain was replaced by compulsion. Magical and mental.

Come hither.

She knew what was calling her. Lady Rie fought it, gasping, retreating to her home to lie in waking agony. At any other time she would have heeded the call with alacrity.

The Circle of Thorns was broken, though. Which was why she had refused the other, far less onerous summons sent through private means. She had thought the Thorns of Death were dead or disbanded!

At least one lived, she now knew. Or perhaps someone was calling her to a trap to reveal her position? Either way, Lady Rie screamed into a pillow, the marks twisting, calling her, pain vanishing and reigniting over the first hour.

She did not know what to do. If she understood the summoning correctly, it would not end until she wentor she died. Her two loyal subordinates, uncomprehending, thought she was just sick. Lady Rie felt the desire to get up and find a horse, to hurry without rest growing stronger with each minute. The magical markings she had accepted to rise to her position even pointed the way.

Lady Rie was one of a handful that felt the inexorable call. Others did, and the weakest-willed or those hoping to find some purpose obeyed first.

Others did not. When she felt the sting of magic, far weaker given she had never been ranked as highly, Lady Ieka Imarris stabbed her arm with a dagger, killing the malign hex. She begged her aunt for aid and soon was grimly preparing a countermeasure.

In this case, extenuating circumstances changed fate. Before Valeterisa could even reply to begin undoing the hex, Ieka felt the pain subside. Shocked, she gazed at her arm and saw the magic fading, erasing itself.

She did not understand whyuntil she recalled the words of Melidore.

Your guilt shall not touch you unless you continue; that is my favor.

Shaken, relieved, she found herself freed. A luck that did not extend to the others.

More than one individual resisted the call, however. Beckoned by the same powerand she was quite amused by thisa certain [Witch] pulled out a bit of cloth, stitched to look like an arm. Belavierr eyed the twisting runes burning into the skin and actually chuckled for a moment.

Someone else laughed, richly amused by the entire thing, Lady Ries suffering notwithstanding. Noamused because of it.

Laken Godart poked the tomato in front of him. Well, tomato sliced and added to a salad. He didnt touch his plate. It wasnt a good cut either. A wedge of tomato. Boiled pasta, which was about all you could say for it. Some pumpernickel bread which was quite good, with butter. A few pastries in the pantry

However, the meal was decidedly lacking. The [Emperor] had tossed it together with about as much enthusiasm as someone shoveling manure. Nevertheless, a number of dishes had been emptied.

The [Emperor] had a guest. The guest laughed, and chuckled, pausing from devouring the food as a starving man, to look up.

You see? Thus do traitors earn their due. Fools ensure loyalty by fear and pain.

Or by trickery and deceit. Not to put too fine a point on it.

Laken folded his arms. Hisguesthad arrived uninvited. He paused, looking irked at the rejoinder. Then smiled.

The desperate do what they must. This is old magic, Laken.

That would be your Majesty, to you. Peon.

Instead of rising ire, his comment only elicited a laugh. The other man rose and swept a bow. Laken never opened his eyes obviously, yet he sensed the motion.

He shifted uneasily. He hadnt been able to do that last time. This time, his guest, Tamaroth, was visible even to his [Emperor]s senses.

I dont suppose that youll drop dead of poison?

Did you put it in the food?

No, just an unseemly amount of salt. If hed had Wiskerias poisons to hand, Laken wondered if he would have been able to add it. He sat there, arms folded.

Will you be leaving soon?

Dont be so hostile, Laken Godart. We are allies. I have come here, at great effort, to help you.

The man was in a better mood, not as rushed as he had been every other time. Laken raised one brow.

By emptying my larder?

Indulge me my hunger. Nowah, nowdo you know how it is to starve so long you forget what it ever was to be full? Yet time is never unlimited.

How terrible. The door is over there.

Laken indicated it with a nod. Tamaroth chuckled and wiped at his beard.

Do you really want me to leave, Laken? Lady Rie Valerund screams in agony. She will not resist long, though she has a strong will. Does she leave, you will never see her again. At least, not the woman you knew. What will return, if she does return, will be a weapon forged in blood. You would do well to slaughter her where she stood rather than stand in her presence a minute longer than you must. Tell medo you want that?

Lakens skin crawled. His guest knew. He knew many things. Too much. Yet his advice had proven prophetic before. So Laken listened, unwillingly, but listened.

Your agenda is not mineTam.

Tam?

The other man echoed the word, incredulous for once. Laken shrugged.

Call it a pet name.

He waited for the fury. But again, the man was amused.

Ah. You do not like me, which I accept. Listen, though; as my strength grows, I remember more of what I am. Before, I gave you only tricks and hints. Now I tell you of what you must know. Close your ears and suffer. Or would you really like to weather the storm unprepared?

Laken shifted.

Fine. Theyre coming for me, thisgroup of nobles. I will take your advice under consideration. What about Lady Rie?

A smile he sensed across the table. The other man began to gulp more food down.

Yes. Think of it, Laken. They would take her, twist her mind and body and soul as such people do, and turn her into something for them. A method to make perfect servants. I can tell how much distaste you have for that idea. You care for Lady Rie, for all she betrayed your trust. If you saved her, what loyalty might you garner? What secret weapon against your foe?

There seems to be a difference between how we regard people, Tam.

A shrug. Laken started as he realized the table was empty. The side salad gone from the bowl.

I am so hungry. Do you want to save her or not?

Laken hesitated. He knew all the stories. Yet that was the kind of deal it always was. Do you want to save her? He sensed Rie writhing in her bed, knew Tamaroth was telling him the truth.

Tell me. Ill decide.

Of course. All you must do is fight what they intend to do to her. Consider yourself so lucky, Laken. But for me you would not know what was happening or how to prevent it.

I say my thanks daily. How, Tam? I dont have a Skill to fight what youre describing.

Another smile. The man sat back, appetite whetted, or at least, understanding there was no food left in the house in Riverfarm.

Then you must acquire one.

Lakens brows would have risen higher, but at that point they would have been in his hair.

So simple as that?

If you know how, yes. This is what you must do. Rise from your seat, hasten to the market. Bring me back something to eat. Then

Laughter as Laken scowled.

then, summon your man Prost, make excuses. Bring a dagger and potion, for both of you will shed blood. Go to her, Laken Godart. Offer her to swear herself to your service by the means I will tell you. She may refuse.

You dont know?

Another chuckle.

Dont we all have free will?

You tell me.

The guest ignored the question. He went on, voice speculative now, dancing with interest. Excitement, even.

If she accedes, follow my instructions as to what to do next. Then let her obey the call. If notor if you choose otherwise

If not what?

Tamaroth sat there, leaning on the table.

Summon your [Witches]. And when the cord of her life stretches tight against the oaths she has made, there is a chance she will live. Shattered though it might be. It is your choice.

He laughed, spreading his hands.

I would rather you gain a servant you can trust. I would rather she lives. I can admire someone who rises after making a terrible mistake. I am not heartless, see? Do you want to know more, or should I go?

He sat there, indulgently, as Laken Godart glared across the table. After a long moment, the [Emperor] got up. Tamaroths expression shifted; Laken could not sense it in enough detail yet, but his voice was alarmed.

Where are you going?

The [Emperor] walked over to the door. He opened it, turned, and looked back. Savoring the others discomfort. Then he sighed.

To get a sandwich and a drink.

Raucous, relieved laughter followed him as he closed the door behind him. Of course, what Tam didnt know was that Laken Godart was getting both for himself. He came back though.

And listened.

-

The schemes and plots of little villains. Foes, both mortal and immortal.

He had known them all. He still had them, despite how many ages had passed. Grave foes. He knew some of them not as enemies that deserved no pity or reason, but simply those who had set themselves against all. Indeed, he might find common ground with some, if they knew he lived.

Othersothers deserved naught but fire and damnation. However, most of these he had watched die, sometimes by his own efforts.

His reasoning in his original body came back to him. How many times must I fight? How much must be sacrificed?

A young womans reply, the most unique of all the replies he had received to the question asked:

Do what you want. Helpeven if its half-assed. Half-effort.

He chuckled at that, even now. Perhaps this was a mistake. The day had arrived, though, and he was committed to his course.

He had prepared in sleepless nights. He had studied, him, practiced, worked harder than he had in millennia. All for one moment.

A Dragons plans were more than a single moment, though. Eldavin stood, taking a few breaths to calm his beating heart. What he was about to do next was audacious. He well understood the implications. But what was he, Teriarch, if not one for such grand moments?

He had studied for this moment. Bound magic tingled in his fingertips, ready to be activated. Another breath; Eldavin heard voices from beyond. He would have to act quickly. The world would change from what he was about to do, he had no doubt. If he failed?

Do not fail. The half-Elf smiled, baring his teeth like a Dragon. It had been a long time since he faced failure.

-

Incidentally, the Dragons position and preparations would have unnerved any of his foes, known or unknown to Teriarch himself, had they known of them.

Indeed, the one foe that Eldavin was unaware of was unnerved. He kept craning his neck and turning, breaking off the lesson.

Eris something wrong?

Aaron Vanwell stared at Emerrhain. However, he was rewarded with a glare.

Itmay be. What is that salamander doing? This makes no sense. Why?

He was uncertain. Which surprised Aaron. The restless guest who had appeared in his rooms was clearly nervous about something, although what, Aaron could not tell.

-

It was time. Eldavin had taken forty three breaths and he was beginning to suffer from hyperventilation. He steadied his nerves, exhaled, and put his hands on the doors.

Time.

He threw open the double doors and strode into the room. Magic moved around him, countless pre-prepared spells. Eldavin raised his hands.

The room beyond had only a few people in it. A Golem turned, saw Eldavin. The Grand Magus lifted his hands.

You there. Shoo, shoo. No, I dont want a drink. Out of the room. There you go.

He carefully flapped his hands at the ceramic serving Golem with the tray of drinks. The Golem obeyed, and trotted out of the room.

The other [Mages] turned, blinking.

Grand Magus Eldavin?

The half-Elf turned, seeing the spells, the scrying orbs around the room, currently reflectinghe beamed at the other [Mages].

Good evening, fellow [Mages]. I hate to disturb you, but I am taking charge here. No need to objectget out.

To the perplexity of the [Mages], and Emerrhain, the half-Elf kicked them out. Then he sealed the door with a spell as they turned and tried to open it, shouting. Eldavin took a breath. Then he began to speak. It took a while for people to realize what he was doing.

Welluntil it became obvious to all.

-

and I just dont see the point of this new style of dress. Lace? Why lace? If youre just tuning in, this is Fashion Talks, with Sir Relz and me, Drassi. And I have to just addI dont think one of us is qualified to be here.

Dont put yourself down so, Miss Drassi.

The Drake with the monocle blinked as Drassi eyed him.

I meant you, Sir Relz.

Me? Im up to date on all the latest fashion trends!

For rich weirdos wearing monocles. Have you ever been to a popular tavern or bar?

Ive been to the best in

Popular, not expensive! Youre the kind of Drake who wears this ridiculous lace stuff. I want another co-host, who understands what its like to have a budget of silver, not gold! Lace is stupid, you heard it here first!

There were surprisingly a lot of viewers on this segment, Fashion Talks, despite many not caring for the dissertation of Terandrian lace-fashion. Drassi had a following. Yet as the Drake and Sir Relz were about to start arguing, the high point of all the segments involving them, the image flickered.

Abruptlythe scrying mirror behind the two Drakes, which allowed them to live-comment on events began flickering. An alert began ringing.

Hold upwere getting a live notification of a Drama-alarm! Wait, we didnt get anything from Wistramthis must be breaking. Hello? What are we seeing?

Scrying devices around the world began turning on despite themselves, much to the alarm of many. Not all, but Wistram-manufactured devices especially. Bemused viewers, but keen on seeing something as good as the Arbiter Queen, or even the Joseph soccer games, tuned in excitedly.

What they saw was a half-Elf, blinking down at Drassi and Sir Relz as the Drakes stared up at him. Eldavin.

Magnolia Reinhart at this point nearly died of choking on a scone. Ryoka Griffin would similarly nearly face-plant when she jogged into the Runners Guild and saw him.

That was small stuff, though, background. The King of Destruction frowned at the unknown half-Elf. So did Drassi. Then her eyes widened.

Hold on. Do I know you?

Miss Drassi. Whomever you are. Good evening. I apologize for interrupting your broadcast. However, I have decided the moment is opportune.

The half-Elf calmly addressed the two Drakes, then waved a hand over Sir Relz choking. His image replaced the broadcast studio.

I am Grand Magus Eldavin of Wistram. You do not know me. However, I have taken it upon myself to pioneer a new event in thistelevision.

He spoke fluently, each word precisely enunciated, his features changing to slight distaste at the last word. Viewers wavered, unsure if this was on the same level as Mage Rievan and his magic lessons, which had not been popular. Before they could make up their minds, Eldavin lifted a hand.

I intend to recount a moment in time, a story if you will. A true one, however, and thus as close to history as it can be, via the biases we all share. With deference to entertainment however, I do not intend to simply monologue. Thus

He flicked a finger and activated the first spell. The room vanished. Eldavin stood in a void of darkness. The little illusion changed; he vanished, but for his outstretched hand.

The viewpoint zoomed in as Magnolia was saved from choking by Ressa. Spluttering, she sat up and saw Eldavins hand extended. Then, the Grand Magus appeared on his hand.

The smaller Eldavin held a book in one hand, and a few ancillary magical effects added to his appearance. Viewers blinked, leaned in. Now that was interesting.

Eldavin smiled to himself. He had been studying a long time. What had he been studying, he, a Dragon? Wellmovies. Television shows from the experts.

Earth. Now, with all the aplomb and magical effects of a multi-million dollar visual effect studio, and the natural stage presence of someone with his ego, he turned. The book levitated from his fingers and flickered, pages of text and pictures opening, fluttering outwards and around him.

I am Eldavin. Grand Magus and one of the last true spellcasters in this world. Only the Archmages exceed my knowledge. I dare to say that I am among the oldest of the mortal races in this world; even among my kind, I am one of the last of my age.

His eyes were sorrowful for a second. He looked at the King of Destruction, at Perric of Medain, and he could see them, staring out of their scrying orbs in this room. They believed him, too. Because this was truth.

I have lived long enough to remember what is now legend. I returned to Wistram to teach what I knowbut that is not why I stand before you now. Rather, I have realized that there is much that has been forgotten. Magic and history. So today, I will recount to you a tale that has been butchered and altered by many. A true story.

He closed his eyes. The pages fluttered around him, born by an invisible wind. Eldavin reached out and plucked one. He held it out, as if to the viewers. It was magical, a beautiful illusion.

It put Ullsinoi to shame. They clustered around the scrying orb, some noting the angry or confused Archmages, the crowd trying to break into the scrying room to no avail.

He should be one of us. He makes us look bad.

Shh. This is art.

Movie magic. Eldavin gently lifted the page. Therestood a man. No, two men. Twomale people. They stood together, smiling, not in any particular grounded moment, but just sharing a chat, as if someone had seen them from afar, at a party or event.

Few recognized the first. Or even the second. Those who did found their breath catching. Eldavin spoke, simply.

Much has been made of both these great [Mages] since their passing. Both have changed our world by their actions. One now lives in infamy. The other is considered a hero to his people. Their legaciesthe stories we tellI intend to tell you of the truth of it all. So then, this is the history of the man known as Perril Chandler. Archmage Chandler.

Still, many did not understand. Yet Pisces turned as Ceria nearly dropped the orb.

Whhe cant be serious.

Archmage Chandler.

A man appeared in the mirror, a goatee, Terandrian clothing, a rapier at his side, bowing to a man on a throne, clasping hands with a [Knight], dancing with a beautiful womanthen a Drake, marching along with three giant, statuesque women. Literal statues. Standing on the walls of Pallass, speaking with a number of Drakes and Gnolls. Waving at crowds of thousands.

The second is a Drake who affects magic to this day. Zelkyr Amerwing of Fissival, later known as Archmage Zelkyr.

The penny dropped. The King of Destructions eyes widened. Slowly, Toren, staring at the orb, heard a crash.

A man with pale white skin and black eyes, white pupils, hair as white as snow, stared at the orb. A reflection of the woman he had just been dancing withno, the living manstared at her master, and then the orb. Bea, Ijvani, Venitra, Kerash, and the othersfrozen.

Azkerash looked at Eldavin, uncomprehending.

The Archmage of Death and the Archmage of Golems, they were known. Archmage Chandler and Archmage Zelkyr, although the world knows of the former by a different name. Azkerash, the Necromancer of Terandria. As this day marks the time, nigh on a century and a half passed, when both were named as Archmages of Wistram, I feel it is only right to tell their stories fairly. For what you do not know was that they were friends. You do not know how each truly came to be known as legends, both good and ill. The tragedy and glory of both. This is what you shall all learn.

Whwhat

The Necromancers voice was strangled. He reached out as if to stop what was playing on the orb. Yet there was nothing for him to do.

The pictures on the paper grew, the moving shapes growing larger. Eldavin walked into the memory. The moving image.

A movie of the past. He had quite enjoyed making it.

Authors Note: This is Part 1 of two. The theme is Paradigm Shift, but it aint over.

I wrote this full story, 41,000 words, in one go. Its split up because thats too much for any one chapter. So if youre reading along, bear in mind that the second half completes the side story you voted on.

Anwaysif youre a Patreon, you can just click the next chapter now and see what comes next. Only Public readers for a few days will have to wait. So find out what happens next time on Eldavins new broadcasting segment!

Mrsha Emotes by /boboplushie

Imani Cooking, Visma, and Mrsha Pie by Saladan!

Waisrabbit, Fetohep, and Corusdeer by Auspicious Octopi!

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