I couldn’t help but frown as I gazed at the newest tower attached to my wall. Lutha had arrived that morning with fifteen other dwarves from her clan. They’d been cast out from her home in Sena City due to some dwarven clan hierarchy rules that I didn’t quite follow. She didn’t beg for refuge, but she didn’t have to. I was more than willing to accommodate her and her family’s needs, though she brought some interesting news with her.

She even let me hold Little Ram, who had been named Throttle after he choked the life out of a small mouse before he could crawl. Dwarves matured slower than humans, not as slow as elves, but at his age he could barely walk around and preferred to crawl still. He had his father's eyes and we stared at each other for a long while as I got to hold him and Lutha spoke of her clan's journey here.

Apparently, the Pestilence wasn’t simply our problem, but a problem that originated in the vast tunnels that lay beneath the ground. During the war with the Seafolk gods at the end of the last age, they had flooded many of the tunnels with saltwater in an attempt to drive those that lived beneath out. While they weren’t successful, much of that water remained to provide the perfect breeding grounds for Hydra. Now the dwarves were fleeing to the surface to escape.

That pleasant experience this morning, and my frown, however, had nothing to do with their presence nor the news they brought. I frowned because of the addition of a third smaller tower, this one opposite of the other two. A further sign that I was slowly losing my much-desired separations from the trappings of civilization. If this continued much more, I’d have an entire town built up around my tower.

The newest tower, still shorter than mine, housed all the dwarves and their kilns. While Ram had been a blacksmith, his wife’s family were simple potters. The bog provided the clay they could work with and they were happy with their new location. I couldn’t see myself doing their work. The idea of being around a kiln when the summers were already hot just didn’t appeal to me. Then again, these were a people that enjoyed living beneath the earth, so their sensibilities might not be entirely aligned with mine to begin with.

It was as I looked down from atop my own tower that I noticed the aldruane had gathered around the dwarves' new tower. I was certain they had been warned against harming any residents or guests, yet I still felt the need to ensure that they behaved themselves.

I hadn’t made it two steps beyond the door to my tower when the nature elemental in my ivy cried out to me.

Master! Save us! Her musical words whispered across my mind and her falsely beautiful face twisted into one of pain and horror.

I glanced around but saw nothing that was attacking them, “From what?”

The faces among the flowers turned as one toward the tower that housed Loralie and the other local magic-users. An action that would have been eerie had they not done it every morning towards the rising sun.

Do you not feel it? The mana from that tower? Please! I shall be forever grateful! Her harmonious voice called to me in tones both sultry and desperate.

I was curious that there was something that could frighten these nature elementals, and I couldn’t help but suspect a trick or a trap. With my [Mana Sense], though, I did detect a small trace of death mana originating from the tower. It shouldn't be enough to harm the nature elementals, but it often was claimed to be their opposing element.

My tower had a bridge that led from its door to the gate, but the other towers only had doorways that led outside the wall. It meant that I would need to walk outside my tower and around the wall to reach theirs. I still hadn’t committed to a shape for the fourth-tier earth elemental I planned to task with guarding my front door, but now I was considering ideas that would include bridges to the other towers.

When I arrived at the tower, I knocked but received no answer. Feeling curious, I entered this tower for the first time. The inside of the first floor seemed to have been constructed in a way that mirrored my own tower, though the fireplace was unlit logs and it had none of the elaborate gem and copper decorations I had made. The stone table that curved around the fireplace was a smaller version, but with cushioned wooden seats in contrast to my stone ones. A bowl of fruit was placed in the center of the table with another bowl beside it for rinds.

No one met me directly inside, but I didn’t expect them to. None of the four seemed the type to be able to afford hiring a servant. Still, I sensed the death mana grow stronger when I entered. It was a clear sign of necromancy at work, as most necromancers aren’t formally trained enough to place wards to contain their potential excess mana. That they even had excess mana was a sign of inefficient spellcrafting.

With a small sigh, I began walking downstairs to find where the mana was originating from. The two underground levels of this tower had been divided into laboratories for the four mages to work. Upon entering the room the mana came from, I was confronted with a very haphazard and cluttered necromancer. To either side of the room lay vast piles of death crystals, a type of crystal that resembled obsidian but grew solely inside crypts or on old battlefields. Places of mass death.

In the center of the room, the necromancer Pyl was humming as he stitched together some amalgam of dead beasts with a needle the size of my forearm. His back was to me, and he seemed deep in concentration, happily working on his creation. I knew too well the irritation one felt to have their work disturbed, so I turned to grasp one of the crystals from the pile and cast a second-tier enchantment that would cause it to gather and absorb all the free-floating mana.

“What are you—oh! Master Nemon, welcome,” Pyl said as he turned from his work to see me.

I lifted the crystal and held it up before me, “Necromancer Pyl, why is there death mana leaking all over my tower? There are children that live near here.”

I meant it more as a light scolding or gentle ribbing from one practitioner to another, but his reaction showed me he didn’t take it that way.

He bowed to me three times as he spoke, his words tumbling out quickly, “Wizard Fargus, please excuse my actions! Dead flesh is easier to animate once the area is saturated with death mana. I did not think it would spread so far so quickly!”

I waved his words away as I began pacing around his laboratory. It was a complete mess, and I didn’t see how he accomplished anything. Parts of beasts, scrolls, tomes, and what looked to be a dirty robe all in one pile. Animal teeth were mixed in with crystals in another. The wooden table he worked from was missing a leg, with a large femur jammed in as a replacement. I tsked with every mistake I saw, and he flinched each time.

“Necromancer Pyl,” I began, “You are a mage now in service to the entirety of humanity. One whose spells may yet save your race. Your race, not mine. What would happen if you discovered a spell that slays the hydra but misplace the reagents needed to cast it underneath all of this?” I asked and waved my hand at a random pile of frozen monsters.

He looked down ashamed, and I watched him for a few moments. “Why did you not ask for assistance in organizing? I have two mages at my beck and call that I pay for such matters.”

He cringed again, but this time an undead rat with additional tails attached all over its body jumped atop a nearby pile and hissed at me.

“Tails, no!” he cried as it leaped towards my face.

I simply stepped aside and watched as it flew and landed into a different pile of dead things.

“Come here, Tails,” Pyl called and wiggled his fingers as if he were calling a dog.

“What is that?” I asked, out of morbid curiosity. I could see a tuff of the stiff dead hair on the thing scrape off as it crawled out of its pile.

“Tails is my undead familiar, a creature I made to assist me,” the necromancer answered, though by his tone he seemed to fear reproach. Tails began scurrying across the floor towards the man.

“How does it assist you?” I inquired. I had two animals, a parrot and a tortoise in my laboratory awaiting my decision, though the parrot spoke more to the ex-slave than it did me.

“Tails, he fetches things when I ask,” Pyl answered.

“Does he?” I felt a little shocked that an undead of such low quality could handle such a complicated tasking as fetching a specific item. Especially, if that item was in one of these piles. With a wave of my hand and the use of earth manipulation, I constructed a few alcoves. “Please have it put all death crystals in these, sorted by size.”

I watched the necromancer whisper to the rat-thing and then kept watching as it began to do as instructed. It was interesting to see that it was capable of what it had been told to do. I created several more alcoves, a bookshelf, and mounted the enchanted death crystal I held along the wall. After a satisfied nod to myself, I turned to the young necromancer, “Come with me. I have a tome or two on warding in my study that will help you to construct a ward that keeps all this death mana contained in your laboratory. You should always take such precautions before an experiment.”

I ignored the squeel of glee the man attempted to turn into a more dignified answer as I turned to leave. One should never mock or condemn another mage's excitement to learn.