Three intense weeks flashed by me. The first thing I had done was to restructure my [Analyze] spell. If the tower could detect information I couldn’t then something was wrong. That was only the precipice of my fall as I delved into the inner workings of the Asrid Flowers. The yellow-leafed plant was much, much stranger than I originally imagined. The inner workings of it barely functioned as a plant at all. Instead, it fed on ambient mana, like a dungeon creature. But feeding on mana is what allowed me to perceive the intricate spellworks inside it. The loyalty that it inspired did flow back to crown and country. But the way it did so was a peculiar offshoot of what I recognized as a familiar contract. The more one drank, the more the spellwork built inside their bodies in tiny, tiny amounts. A spell that obligated loyalty from the drinking at the cost of a burst of energy for an hour after drinking. The day-long calm seemed more a byproduct of the addictive quality of the leaves. I imagined that the flower this plant originated from was a dungeon monster of some sort. A plant that lulled its victim into a calm state before it attacked. Someone had made such a monster into their familiar and then bred its offspring. That was my assumption at the moment. More importantly, I was able to alter the spellwork inside the plant to change the source of loyalty. Now, whoever drank it would be loyal to me and my tower. Or that was the intended change. I was almost certain it worked, but I had four wolf pups in my containment cells as test subjects for it. I’d prefer human ones, but there had been no more assassins since the first attack. The barony was also experiencing a dreadful shortage of bandits and criminals. I also wasn’t ready to switch to the new flowers. After all, what would an increase in loyalty to oneself mean? How would that affect me? No, I was better off with the decreasing cups of tea. But what was the most interesting, to me, was the change in the plant when I introduced more nature mana to it. I’d expected a wild growth and possible monsterization. Instead, nature mana tore through the inner magical structure. It left the plant wilted and dying. Increased nature mana made it die faster. I had begun experiments with smaller and smaller amounts of nature mana when I was interrupted. I was looking for the balance in which the addition of nature mana supplemented the growth of the plant. Really, most of the intensive research was completed, and the fugue state from the first few weeks of experimenting had already passed. The interruption, Assistant Walker, calmly stood outside the laboratory. His expression indicated he wasn’t pleased to be interrupting me. I finished the latest injection of nature mana, and turned to the young man, “Yes?” “Many apologies master, but you have a guest seeking an audience,” he said with a bow. “And they refused to be sent away?” I asked, my brows furrowing at the perceived rudeness. Part of me, though, was still calculating when and how much the next injection would be. “The guest is Baron Froom. He insists that you received a missive detailing when he would arrive,” Walker replied. I hadn’t been fully paying attention, to my assistant until he said that. I recalled the Baron had sent correspondence, but I never opened it. It was likely still sitting on the table in my study. I looked back at the plant I was working on. It was due for a new injection in half an hour, or my current study would be worthless. I sighed. “Very well. Have Chelsea cook her best meal, and gather the bottle of plum wine from the study. Wait, no, gather the pear brandy. I’ll see him in myself shortly,” I reluctantly answered. I annotated the current results of my research and deposited the flower in its containment cell. Upstairs, I found a decent robe of dark blue with embroidered golden stars on it with a matching wide-brimmed conical hat. It was a style that was in fashion fifty years ago, something the Baron likely saw wizards wearing in his youth. A reminder that his new station meant nothing to me. I also took several esoteric spell scrolls from my personal supply and carried them in a pocket. Wizards of our standing did not meet without exchanging spells, one way or another. Walker met me at the door, an unpleasant look on his face, “Master, before you go outside, there is something you should know.” “Oh?” I asked. I thought of quite a number of possibilities after he said those words. “Your water serpent. It killed an enormous lamprey and pulled its body back to the lake. It sits on top and won’t let anyone remove the carcass. It—it stinks out there,” his nose scrunched as if the imagined smell were offending him. “Hmm,” I could readily admit to myself that this was not one of the possibilities I’d considered. “I see.” With that, he opened the door and the smell attacked me. I spoke through a cough, “I shall most assuredly do something about that once I am done speaking with the Baron.” With quick use of [Wind Manipulation], I sent the smell away and brought fresh air to us as we walked. The pathway was decently clean, and my lilies were blooming well. Meathead stood at the gates, chatting with my old assistant. Baron Alred Froom had grown from the gangly youth I remembered him to be. Now, the man’s blonde hair and youthful visage had turned old and grey. Despite his height, he carried himself imposingly as he hovered in the air atop an air elemental. The silver staff with a large mounted ruby in his right hand matched the scarlet robe and green sash he wore. His hat, though, looked ridiculous. It was a conical hat with a wide square brim like mine, but the brim was green and the cone was scarlet. He had some sort of silver buckle around it, that I suppose might have matched his staff--if one were unaware of the difference between iron and silver. He slowly levitated down until his feet touched the ground, and he lifted his left hand to lift and lower a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles, “Egad! That’s what you look like under your illusion spell? No wonder you keep it up. You don’t look a day over thirty.” So, his spectacles were enchanted to see through illusions? Not only that, he had the nerve to utter such words aloud? I scoffed, “Yes, well you humans do have such a pedestrian penchant for judging by appearance. I have learned that an illusion or two easily remedies instances of jealousy and vulgar behavior. Please, do come in.” Meathead waved to the Baron, “Bye! Nice to meet you.” Baron Froom nodded to my guard, “And farewell to you as well, brave one.” I withheld my sigh and waited for the Baron to step to my side before we began walking down the bridge. “Ah, I like what you have done with your guardian elementals. I built my tower atop the convergence of four elemental ley lines, but I prefer that my defenders be golems,” the Baron spoke as he looked about. No doubt he felt golems the better choice, for whatever reason, “Thank you. I found golems to be an annoyance to build. The constitution of their instructional spellwork never quite perfect enough to adapt to changing circumstances as an elemental could.” “Ah, I remember that lecture. I have found a way around that by utilizing beast cores for parts of their instructions. That way, if the circumstance isn’t within what I proscribe, then the golems' behavior falls back on the beast. Much less mana needed as well.” I considered that. It was a novel approach that would take a great deal out of the painstaking work that was required to build one. I would need to research the topic more. I wonder what my assistants have been doing with the beast cores from the corpses? Shoved in a crate or barrel somewhere, most likely. Still, I answered with a noncommittal, “Hmmm.” Inside my tower, Chelsea had laid out a platter of bread and cheeses. The brandy and two empty cups rested nearby. I was a little excited. I would finally get to see the impact of my uncomfortable furniture firsthand. “Please sit,” I offered as I took my own chair. Baron Froom took his chair opposite of me, and motioned towards the bread, “May I?” “Of course,” I smiled and poured two glasses of brandy. We both snacked for a few minutes, considering the possible topics at hand. Of course, I didn’t know why he’d come as I never opened his letter. I wasn’t about to give that away. If it came to waiting, I would always win that competition. “You never read my letter, did you?” He asked with a huff. “No, was it that important?” I asked back. “I wouldn’t have sent it if it wasn’t,” he replied and crossed his arms. I shook a finger in the air, “If it was as important as you say, then why have me waste a day to open it?” I gave him a smug smile. He sighed dramatically, “Perhaps I overestimated your capabilities. I didn’t think it would take you that long to open it.” I blinked. He planned that entire conversation just so he could jab me with that sentence? I was so proud of the man! I beamed at him and chuckled, “It seems I taught you well.” He chuckled too and then soon we were both laughing. When we stopped, he took a sip of his wine. I could tell by the shift of his shoulders that soon we would approach the topic so important that it required a personal visit. A part of me wondered if he already knew about the flowers. I was almost afraid to ask. So rather than guess at his purpose, I simply raised an eyebrow. “I come with bearing… unfortunate news. But first, let us exchange gifts. I have within my holding an independent village of wood elves. Natali, my wife, was able to open trade with the village. They have several spells of green magic they were willing to offer her in exchange for furs and the like. One of which is a fertility spell.” Alred set a scroll on the table and then continued, “But while I was outside your tower, I saw the spells you were experimenting with. When I was your assistant, such magic was too complex for me. Even now, I only grasped a portion of your working. The green magic. The blood magic. The light magic. I feel the need to ask, do you fear death so much?” That was a surprising question, and I could only shake my head. I spoke softly, “No, not at all. Rather, it is a lonely road I walk and I seek a companion to walk it with me.” He glanced at the scroll he brought, “I see. I fear the gift I prepared is… an unfortunate misunderstanding.” I withdrew the bundle of scrolls in my pocket, each a peculiar rarity, “I hadn’t prepared anything specifically for you, either. Feel free to look through these, if any take your fancy, but I will send you a better gift later.” He looked me in the eyes, “About that gift. Your spellwork, would you be willing to share it? Both my wife and I are advancing in years, and I see time slip through our fingers.” I could only shake my head, “No, my friend. The spell isn’t ready. It could grant you a hundred years at best, but… it would leave you an [Abomination]. A powerful one at that.” “I could prepare magic to take my own life, if that is the case,” he answered firmly, and his eyes bore into mine. “Perhaps. But could you do the same for your wife?” I answered him back, meeting his resolute expression with one of compassion. His beard shook. His hand clenched into a fist. He took a big breath. And then he deflated and looked away, “No. No, I could not.” “I assume this isn’t the foul news you come bearing is it?” I asked, diverting the heavy topic. That question roused him, “No, it isn’t. I fear for us all, my old master. I have glimpsed what is on the other side of the mountains. Not Sena nor Mirktal nor Turing stand a chance. Even combined. I fear we are nearing the end of another age.” I sat up straighter in my chair. From someone else, I may not have taken such news in the gravitas spoken, but from my old assistant I wouldn’t dismiss it, “Tell me.” He shuddered, and took a sip of the brandy, “I’m studying the planes. I hope to either learn how to make one we can escape into, or escape into one that is already there. I—” I could see that he was trying to change the subject, so I cut off his words, “What did you see, Alred?” He gulped and whispered, “Pestilence. An ocean of them.”