The tables were laden with all sorts of delectable treats that I hadn’t seen since I moved from Sena City. I directed the servant stationed there to load my platter with such joys as boiled Birktoni snails, candied yams, and fried clams fished from Laxton Bay. The aromas mixed together in a way that made my mouth water, and each was presented in such a fashion as if the cook were not just making food but art.

I also had four different rare vintages to choose from, each with its own merits and pairings. A very astute servant had appeared at my side, and her sole purpose was simply to hold a plate with my four wine glasses for me.

I stood not far from the tables as I ate, and it was as I slurped on my third snail that some of the nobility began to approach me. First were two gentlemen, aldermen or poorer barons by their clothing, that stood nearby speaking of the ongoings in their lands. A harmless conversation, but one I could tell felt forced as they positioned themselves to include me at a moment’s notice.

“…this sheep followed his wife to their neighbor’s house, and the animal for some reason decided to stay there. Both families were clear that it wasn’t theft.

Yet the owner of the thing demanded restitution. Claimed the animal had betrayed him. The other farmer said it wasn’t his fault the sheep liked him better, and that it should be allowed to stay if he wanted.” One of the men spoke in an animated fashion.

“So, to which side did you judge?” the other asked, though it was clear he lacked any real interest.

“Well, I put the sheep on trial and declared it a traitor. Had it served for supper, and compensated the first farmer for his loss,” the noblemen said with a loud, nasal laugh.

I lost any interest and picked at the clams. I couldn’t help but hope they had been transported live, as the batter they were fried in prevented me from determining if the clam itself might have been spoiled.

“Wizard Fargus?”

The young woman’s voice attracted my attention, and I looked up to see a young lady of maybe sixteen. She stood in a light blue gown that went well with her lighter skin tones. She was set apart by her facial features, the kind more often seen among the Mirktallean.

Still, she had delicate skin and long dark hair with blue eyes. Certainly, many others would find it attractive.

“I have a very particular issue, and I was wondering if you might be willing to help me resolve it,” she said and bit her lip. While she appeared slightly nervous, I doubted it was more than an act.

I gestured at her with a piece of crawfish I had speared with a fork, “Go on.”

She smiled, and looked a bit flustered, though again I felt it was an act. “I am Lady Bushwah, Calleri Bushwah. My father was a baron before he… passed. Count Lahal now administers our lands until I marry,” She began and stopped to look at me as if I should know about what she spoke of. When I didn’t do more than continue to look at her and wait, she continued.

“However, I find myself in a difficult place. I cannot marry, for I find myself with a rare and unusual affliction,” she spoke as she took tiny steps closer to me with each word. Her voice grew to a whisper by the last.

I had already discounted her a potential assassin, so her moving closer didn't bother me. I also carried in my bag a wand of [Cure Disease], so any affliction would be easy enough to resolve. I would hate to use it twice if she accidentally spread it with her proximity.

Yet it was an unusual request, as any priest could also cast such a spell, so there was no need to seek me out for that. A powerful curse or a hex, maybe, but I would need the details to be able to resolve it. “An affliction, you say?”

She leaned in even closer and stood on her toes so that her cupped hand would be closer to my ear. Her words were whispered now, as though she were sharing the world’s greatest secret, “Yes, Lord Wizard, I find myself attracted to other maidens, more so than gentlemen."

She kept whispering as if I were a barkeep paid to hear worries, "In fact, I hold no place in my heart for any man other than my father. It makes courting them ever so difficult. As I am, I could never find happiness in romance with a man. Do you think that your magic could help me?”

I sighed and stepped back from her. Certainly, there were humans of one gender that only felt romantic emotions to that same gender. I had even captured one once to test if there were a magical reason for the occurrence. Once I found there wasn’t, I further examined the anatomy to see if there were an extra organ or such, but found none either. After that, I lost all interest. It wasn’t the most unusual of human proclivities, and without a magical cause, it wasn’t for me to study.

Yet, her question did lead to an interesting idea. I handed my platter to a nearby servant to hold and withdrew a tome I used to track my various ideas for future spellworks. With a pen I had magicked to hold ink, I scribbled furiously. I didn’t want to forget the idea when the next noble-born idiot came to take up my time.

The idea her question had inspired fell forth from my mind to my hand with practiced ease. There existed a curse that would cause everything a person ate to taste like ash. It was a second-tier spell that I had remade from a witch’s hex. Even though I barely grasped the mechanism for how the spell functioned, that it existed at all proved there may be a way to cast a spell that alters the very perception of the people around me. Perceptions like taste. If I developed such a spell, then I could possibly rid the world of carrots. I never understood how others could enjoy eating those things.

When I finished writing, I took back my platter and saw the lady still awaited an answer from me. I was a bit surprised, because I had been writing for a good bit of time. I gave her a look I hoped contained sympathy and then gestured around the ball with my hand as I answered, “I’m sorry, my dear, but marriage simply isn’t about romance and happiness."

“You will do nothing?” the tone of her voice was neutral, the previous act falling away.

I lifted a single finger, and adopted an mentor's tone as I very patiently instructed her, “There is nothing I can do. No magical solution can change who you are.”

Her previous demeanor of pleasantry disappeared in an instant and her face clouded with scorn. She hissed her words at me, “You are only an alderman, I could order you to do so.”

I used my fork to spear another bit of crawfish and then gestured at her with it, “And you, young lady, I could turn into a fish in a blink of your eye.”

Her eyes widened, and without a good response, she turned around abruptly to walk away. Certainly, it was a threat I wouldn’t have kept. A fish would suffocate quickly on land. A squirrel would be too difficult to catch without using a subsequent sleeping spell. No, if I changed to her anything, it would have been a sheep. I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see if a sheep’s brain could hold a human’s mind, and that would be interesting to learn.

The irony that I told the young lady that there was no magical way to change who she was and then threatening to turn her into a fish was not lost on me. I did wait a few good moments to chortle about it before I resumed my meal. Or tried to.

Over the next few hours, I was approached by many nobles. Sometimes alone and sometimes in groups. While I had feared they would try to bring similar paltry concerns as that young woman did, that didn’t turn out to be the case. Instead, they offered me thanks for my part in the battle and inquired as to the cost of raising their towns and villages onto plateaus.

I negotiated some, but not with any real emotion. I had already planned to raise towns and villages throughout Sena to save who I could from the threat of the pestilence. That the nobility offered me payment for my services was only proper, of course, but I would not deny any who could not afford it.

It was only after I had finished my meal, that a servant came to touch my arm, “The Duchess would like a word with you Wizard Fargus.”

I raised an eyebrow in response.

“This way, if you please,” he said with a bow.

Soon we were weaving in and around guests towards the doorway the Duchess had made her entrance from a few hours ago. As we approached, the door opened and Baron Froom came out of the room.

“Nemon,” he said with a nod as he walked back into the ball.

“Alred,” I answered him with the same nod.

The servant stopped outside the heavy oaken door and knocked three times on it before opening it for me. As I entered, I saw a sitting room that had been prepared away from the noise and activity of the ball. A light blue plaster and several ornate tapestries were on the walls. A plush red carpet covered the floor. Several fine chairs were placed around a low table, but I could see the indentations left on the carpet where a couch used to sit.

The table had a tea set prepared, and in one chair sat Duchess Eiston in all her glory. The woman looked much better than the last time I had seen her. She held a reserved expression but it was the lack of tearstains on her face, and the golden-colored gown she wore complimented her face that made the difference. Several guards stood at attention along the walls, but none of these things were what drew my eyes. Rather, my focus was instantly on the man sitting in a chair opposite of the Duchess.

His dark skin tones, shaved head, and clothing made from large, flat leaves immediately gave him away as Tervan.

When he saw me and his eyes grew wide and his face panicked, it revealed the teeth filed to sharp points. The sign of a Tervan Bloodmage.

“The—the Harbinger! You brought this villain here!” He hissed in a terror. His chair fell backward to the ground as leaped from his seat to flee.