It was the day of our departure to Lark for the Baroness’s wedding, and I was doing a few last-minute spellworks in my laboratory. While I was confident that the containment fields that I established for my multiple tests would hold, I saw no reason not to enchant additional protections and illusions to keep them safe.

My primary concern at the moment was the variant of parasitic mushroom I adapted to consume the Pestilence scales I managed to procure. Or, rather, as the tower identified them under analysis the ‘greater armored hydra’ scales. I hadn’t the faintest idea what a hydra was, and what made the difference between a greater and a lesser version of the beast. None of the tomes I owned or remembered reading hinted at such a being.

Still, if my experiment was successful, then infecting the monsters with a parasitic mushroom should reduce their defenses enough for fire magic to kill them off. The mushroom was doing well at the moment, and only a sliver of one scale remained. My bigger concern now was how fast it would spread. Too fast, and I might unintentionally replace one problem with another. Too slow, and all my work would be for naught.

Regardless, with the new enchantments, the experiment would keep until I returned. I snatched another experiment of mine from its own compartment, a ring that would be perfect to test on the journey. Upstairs, Guard Mena and Assistant Leslie were waiting for me. Of the three new assistants, I found that Leslie seemed to take great pleasure in holding authority over the two young men.

I knew she had come from the orphanage through my sponsorship to the Arcanum, and that the life of an orphan wasn’t an easy one. It left a person feeling broken in a way that was difficult for even me to describe. Her desire for authority likely stemmed from some history of feeling a lack of control in her own life.

That didn’t mean that I would tolerate arrogance from the young lady. I’d ordered her to come for more than one reason. I would evaluate her personality more closely along the trip, and formulate a plan to ensure she would grow. It would also allow for the two brothers, Philipe and Zax, to perform their duties without her oversight. I would be able to more accurately ascertain their level of competence without her influence.

The other reason, a more practical one, was that the brothers would be taking over the duties related to the dungeon underneath my tower while I was gone. I strongly felt that placing the young lady with delusions of authority in a position where mushroom people worshipped her would lead to disaster. Though, it would make for an interesting experiment on the human psyche.

Mena, on the other hand, was the only guard interested in coming. Tond enjoyed his time with Chelsea, Eni with his beasts, and Meathead… he was just not the best suited for a formal occasion. After bidding goodbye to the others, the three of us departed at a walk out the gates of my tower in the early morning.

It was late spring, and the gnarled trees and other plant life of the bog were well in bloom. The pathway had been reinforced over the two years that Kine and Walker had lived here. It rested several feet above the bog covered in stones molded to look like giant cobblestones. Every quarter mile or so, we passed under grand wide arches of shining quartz crystal, the otherwise useless stone turned into a structure I approved of.

Kine had claimed that the archways helped to defend against aerial beasts while on patrol, but I knew well enough that he and Walker had their own competition. Still, the spring rains had washed them clean and the way the sun sparkled through smoky crystal made the walk much more pleasant.

As a group, we made it to the forested section of the path by midafternoon, though conversation had been notably absent. Mena was walking ahead to deal with any monsters that might attack, though I hadn’t seen a single one. Leslie walked to my right, still in her Arcanum uniform. Other than infrequent nervous glances in my direction, she seemed satisfied to walk in silence.

As the pathway approached the forest, Mena seemed to relax her guard. I suppose that meant the forest path was clear of potential threats. I hadn’t been this way in nearly two years, so she would likely know better than I.

I was impressed with the way the foliage had grown together into a tight wall of wood and leaves. The branches of the trees to either side wove together overhead casting us into near-complete darkness. Only occasional openings that allowed beams of sunlight down showed that we hadn’t entered some type of cavern.

Leslie lifted her hand and cast an illumination spell, but Mena waved at her, “No, no, can we please not do that? If there’s light, we’ll miss them. I think it’s beautiful.”

Leslie looked to me for confirmation, but I wasn’t certain what Mena was speaking about either. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though, so I gave her a knowing smile. That seemed to be enough of an answer, and she dropped her spell.

As we walked through the forest, small green lights started to glow in the dark places between stray sunbeams. They hovered and danced around in a delightfully mysterious way, like so many fireflies. I recognized the nature wisps immediately and began to suspect that perhaps my elemental hadn’t been entirely truthful with how many of her ‘children’ she sought to help.

That didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate the ambiance. I enjoyed it greatly, and the look of wonder on Leslie and Mena’s faces didn’t detract from the experience at all. While we were walking, I decided to strike up a conversation, “Leslie, tell me more about yourself.”

She looked surprised I asked but began speaking nonetheless. First, she began with her studies at the Arcanum, detailing how well she did and how she learned the spells much quicker than others. I would have been proud to have such a dedicated student if I were her teacher. It was towards the end of her monologue when Mena cut in with a bout of laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” Leslie demanded.

“It’s-it’s so funny is all,” Mena got out between chuckles.

“And what’s that?” Leslie was clearly not happy with the guard.

“That you think any of your fancy education is important. All that time and effort you spent—it only qualified you to do boss’ chores,” Mena’s vicious words were spoken with a sweet smile.

“Mena,” I said as I watched Leslie’s face purple in anger.

“Yeah, boss?” Mena asked.

“That’s enough of that,” I said in a tone that would brook no argument.

Mena sighed melodramatically, “Sure thing boss.”

In the meanwhile, Leslie had deflated and was staring off into the branches overhead as we walked.

“Leslie, please continue,”

“Yes, master,” she answered a touch despondently, “I suppose that I, um, I am an expert in the study of magic. I’ve learned all the spells available at the academy and am up to date with all the current theorems. Not like my colleagues. Those boys only care about their experiment.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she continued, though she hadn’t looked my way yet, “Some nonsense about reducing the familiar contract spell to animal friend or something. They want anyone to be able to magically bond to an animal. Can you imagine that? Even if they get it right, they’d be spending all their time casting the spell for only coppers for every peasant—”

Leslie continued to express her complaints about the subject, but I had already tuned her out. Lowering the tier of a familiar contract to bond others to animals? That would be similar to the animal companion ability that [Ranger] and [Druid] classes obtain. It was a worthwhile course of study and experimentation in my mind.

“—and that Walker picked them out just because of this makes it even worse! There were at least twelve better graduates that begged, just begged, for a chance to work for you. He didn’t even give them but the briefest of glances! I don’t—”

Walker chose them specifically out of a group? He hadn’t sent a message back with them to explain that. That actually boded very well for the brothers’ future as assistants at my tower. I would need to discuss their experiment with them to see how feasible it is. Documenting the process would be their responsibility of course, but it made sense if they were already doing my record-keeping as well.

“Master?”

“Hmm?” I came away from my thoughts to glance at Leslie.

“Thank you for listening. I’m sorry my mouth ran away for so long. I fear I got carried away. It won’t happen again,” Leslie said with an apologetic face.

“Certainly, child. You have much to learn, and what kind of teacher would I be if I held this against you? Just be more cautious in the future,” I answered charitably. I hadn’t been listening to her complaints, so why would I be troubled that she complained in the first place?

By the time we made it to the village of Woodhoot, dusk had fallen. Woodhoot had changed significantly since when I first traveled through. When I last came through, the village was little more than a handful of houses and an inn that functioned as a general store. Both were of poor make and general disrepair.

Now, stone walls surrounded more than twenty different buildings, and three paved roads converged on a newly built two-story inn. There was even a sign for Lark that pointed south, a sign for Iron Yard that pointed northwest, and a sign for Owl’s Fall and Fort Lark that pointed to the west. I wasn’t even aware that the barony had its own fort, but suspected it wasn’t much of one.

A scout tower stood in the center of the village, across from the inn. It was a wooden structure barely taller than the nearby trees and occupied with two archers. They paid no attention to us, seemingly intent on looking for signs of monster attack. A copper bell hung beneath the tower, ready to toll on such an occasion.

The homes, the newer ones, all were built on stone foundations. The new inn was a beautiful building with the first floor constructed from granite blocks and the second floor with thick timbers. The door was a solid-looking wood with iron banding. There was even a stone chimney on the right side of it, evidence of more improvement.

Inside the inn, Miles waved us a friendly greeting. The chubby man was in his late fifties and his laugh lines and jowls now cracked with full-blown wrinkles. He still had his head full of brown hair, though parts were greying. With the hawkish nose and brown eyes, there was no disputing he was born and raised here in Woodhoot. He wore a clean leather apron over a faded yellow shirt and a matching leather cap that he’d tucked halfway into his trousers.

The inn itself had improved, the first floor now sported flattened stone and a warm fireplace. He’d kept the long benches and tables but added a few finer ones on a fur rug closer to the fireplace. Gone were the random bits and pieces of the general goods store that previously crowded his inn, and in place was a single long wooden counter and several casks of drink. A doorway behind him led to the kitchens, and at the far end of the room, an unstained wooden staircase led upstairs.

“Milord Fergus! Always a pleasure! Welcome ta the Walker’s Rest,” He said with a great smile.

The room was mostly empty, with only a few traders seated around the fireplace supping on stew and mead.

I returned the smile, “Good evening to you, do you have room for three this evening?”

He gave me an awkward look before asking in a hushed voice, “Will that be one room for three or three rooms for one?”

I rolled my eyes at the man, “The latter, of course.” As if I would be interested in these children.

“Certainly, milord, we’ll have ‘em ready right quick. Please have a seat and we’ll have some food right out while ya wait,” he said with a big smile and ducked through the doorway to the kitchens.

The three of us sat at the table, sliding our traveling packs under the bench, and waited. It wasn’t a few minutes later that a waitress came with three big tankards of honeyed apple cider and a large, steaming platter of sliced turkey. It looked almost as appetizing as what Chelsea cooked, which was a compliment. The cider paired well with the meat, almost as if they were meant for each other.

It was almost halfway through our meal when Miles approached again. He held his leather cap in his hand, twisting it nervously, “Pardon fer interruptin’, milord, but there be some folks outside looking to have a word with ya.”

I had a thick slice of turkey hanging from my wooden fork that I was about to bite when he said it, “Is it important?” I asked, and then took the bite.

He nodded twice, and twisted his cap, “I reckon they think it is.”

I finished chewing and dabbed my mouth clean with a handkerchief, before I stood, “Ladies, wait here for a moment if you would.”