Roland and Mallory fled the inn immediately after Mallory’s encounter with the handsy patron. They were on the road all night and, as dawn rose, Roland realized that they were no longer heading east.

“This isn’t the way to Bright Port is it?” he asked. “I can’t see the Argol Ocean anymore.” The main road between Sages’ Keep and Bright Port ran along the coast, so it was nearly impossible to get lost.

“We’re not going to Bright Port,” Mallory replied. “You need some books with cantrips in them. Also, you’ll need a fake passport if we’re going to keep travelling around Relmgard. We can get both of these things at my home.”

“We’re going to your home?” said a surprised Roland. “So where are you from? Or is that another mystery I need to solve on my own?”

“Dire Fortress,” said Mallory.

“What? Are you serious?” asked a stunned Roland, but Mallory wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation.

From reading accounts of the Heroic Age, Roland knew that Dire Fortress was the Archfiend’s initial base of operations. Beyond that, though, details on the location were scarce. No major battles took place there and the Archfiend abandoned it fairly early into the conflict. By mid-morning of the next day Roland had his first clear view of the structure itself. It was nothing like he had imagined. There were no actual fortifications, it was just a large stone house.

“That’s Dire Fortress?” asked Roland. “It’s just a country house.”

“Uh yeah. What did you expect?” said Mallory. “Do you know what walls, a portcullis, and a moat would do to property value? How exactly would the Archfiend conquer Relmgard with such a weak real-estate portfolio?”

A sign in front of the house read:

‘Dire Fortress’

‘Farmers Market first Saturday of every month.’

***

Inside the house, Roland and Mallory were greeted by man with a trimmed beard and glasses. He looked to be only a few years older than Roland.

“Hey, Mal.” The man said as he put down the cup of tea he was drinking. “Glad you’re back. Do you know where the keys to the garden shed are? The bird feeder is almost out of seeds and could use a top up.”

Mallory sighed, “How many times has this happened? Dad installed the key rack for a reason.”

“Oh well, I’m sure they’ll turn up, “ the man said.

“Sorry, do you two know each other?” asked Roland.

“Yes,” said Mallory, “This is Nick, my brother. He runs the monthly Farmers Market here. Clearly he’s the more ambitious sibling.”

“You should come to the next one!” said Nick, “Bring the whole family. Kids love the rock painting activity.”

“Anyways… Nick, this is Rol,” said Mallory.

“Yo,” said Nick as he pointed at Roland.

“Rol and I are in the middle of a quest to murder all of the Chosen,” said Mallory. “You know as foretold by Elikar the Accursed, Seer of the Unholy Prophecy?”

“Sounds swell.”

“As Rol is the prophesied one, we need a fake passport for him so it won’t be obvious that he’s from Sages’ Keep.”

“Quite the pickle,” said Nick. “Are you asking me to forge a passport for you?”

“And here I thought Dad was being sarcastic when he called you the savant of Dire Fortress,” said Mallory. “Yes, Nick, make us a counterfeit passport.”

“Well, I’ve got a pretty full schedule. But I suppose I could make time for my little sister. Let’s head over to my art studio.”

***

The trio went down to the basement of Dire Fortress. They then entered a large open room that was surprisingly well lit given that it was completely underground. There were hundreds of paintings both hanging on the walls and standing in upright stacks.

“Here’s the studio,” said Nick. “Dad use to have this space set up as a torture chamber, I believe. Maybe it was just a simple snake pit? Not sure. But the energy in here is great. Really gets the creative juices flowing.”

“Yeah, I always associate your art with painful screaming death so I can definitely see the synergy with the room,” said Mallory.

“My drafting table is just over there,” said Nick pointing across the room. “That’s where the magic really happens. But not literally magic.”

“Judging by the paintings that are hanging up in here, there’s no metaphorical magic happening either,” Mallory added.

“I’ve been told my art has a certain kitsch appeal. Probably not meant as a compliment, but as a fresh face on the art scene, you take what you can get.

“Anyways, this forgery will take a while. You want me to give you a pun-based name? Craven Moorehead? Howling Butz? Edge Maverick?”

Mallory sighed, “Those are either terrible or lame references. Just go with Balzac T. Bagger.”

“Mal, this is my kitchen, so let me cook.”

“Fine. Just make the damn thing. Then Rol and I can leave and you can go back to huffing paint thinner.”

***

Mallory and Roland left Nick to his work and returned upstairs. They then headed to the library, where Mallory had told Roland that there were actual spell books. There were several large bookshelves and they were all completely filled. This room wouldn’t be out of place in Sages’ Keep, Roland thought. He began reading the spines, but soon realized they were all decorative.

“Those came with the bookshelves,” said Mallory. “All of my books are in here.”

She grabbed what looked like and empty bag that was hidden behind the one of the shelves. She reached in the bag and started pulling out books three to four at a time.

“How can that small bag hold so much?” asked Roland.

“Bag of holding. I thought you were well-versed in dungeon crawling? You seemed ready to ask those ‘adventurers’ at the inn the other night for their autographs.” She paused. “Actually maybe you should have asked gropey the warrior to sign your notebook. I have a feeling his signature is going to be a rare find going forward.”

Roland began looking at the covers of some of the books that Mallory was pulling out the bag. They were all `Sex Books’ as Master Wiburg had angrily called them.

Journey of the Blue Balled Hero

Harem Warrior: I’m Glad my Vitality is Maxed!

Boner Quest V: Handjob of the Heavenly Bride

“Huh, there’s a whole series of those,” mumbled Roland.

“Hands off - this isn’t a public library,” said Mallory as she snatched some books from Roland’s hands. “Some of those are one of a kind.”

“Yes, The Magic Ingredient is Cum seems like it would be irreplaceable.”

“Actually it is - all of the other copies are in the World of Darkness which is currently sealed off by the Twinned Barrier. So for all practical purposes, it is one of kind.”

After several minutes of going through the bag of holding, Mallory had assembled a pile of books for Roland.

“All of these were written by an actual mage,” she told him. “When magic stopped working, she pursued a higher calling to make her living. The art isn’t great and it’s pretty vanilla stuff, but the cantrips should be authentic.

“Take your time, I’m going to get some equipment ready for Bright Port.” She paused. “Also, if you rub one out, don’t finish in the bag of holding. It’s not washable and for some reason liquids get everywhere in there. So just use one of my bras - you seem like you’re into that.”

After Mallory left, Roland sat down at the desk that was in the library and started to go through the books in detail. The first one he grabbed was part of of the Romantic Mysticism series, which sounded like quite a pretentious name for a sleaze book. However, the title of this particular volume was Learning Magic with a Partner is a Real Grind! and any notion that Roland had about this being a great piece of Relmgard literature was dispelled.

The premise of this series was that the most effective way for young wizards to learn magic was under emotionally and physically intense situations. True to the genre, this meant using spells during foreplay and sex. The story was non-existent and the amateurish art didn’t do anything for Roland. Intentional or not, though, the drawings in the book did illustrate how a mage casted a cantrip. And it was actually pretty easy. The mage would visualize the result of the spell while simultaneously thinking, rather than saying, the power words. The spells themselves didn’t seem very useful as they could all be done easily enough without magic. Nevertheless, Roland hoped that they were authentic so he began carefully summarizing each one in his notebook.

While the phrases associated with each spell appeared to be nonsense, the words that formed them were all written in Ralsh, the most common language in Relmgard. For instance, in one scene a male apprentice undoes the bra of his female partner. His thought bubble contained a drawing of a bra strap unhooking and the words below were ‘Spring Thaw.’ In another panel, the woman poured candle wax on the man by taking an unlit candle and melting it with a cantrip. Here, the words that were tied to visual of a candle melting were ‘Broken Handle.’ This particular panel also confused Roland because he had no idea what pleasure could be had by being burned with hot wax.

As Roland read through more of the books, the game behind the cantrips became clear to him: the words for all of the spells were simply childish rhymes that had some loose metaphor to the action that the spell was performing. Some of the metaphors were certainly a stretch, but maybe precision isn’t that important for weak magic like cantrips.

The afterwards to one of the book also explained that now that magic no longer works, the actual mechanisms for spells are no longer tightly guarded secrets. However, not many were being written down because they no longer have any actual use. The author decided to use real spells in her work to give them an authentic feel.

Roland practiced the melting cantrip with a few candles in the library and, amazingly, it seemed to work without much difficulty. He was even able to invent his own cantrips. Thinking ‘Inside Explore’ while visualizing a drawer being opened worked as expected. However, when he tried tasks like moving the massive bookshelves in the room, the spells never seemed to work, no matter what rhymes he came up with. The limit of the strength of cantrips was fuzzy but they were definitely limited.

Yet, in some of the books, there were more powerful cantrips but they required reagents. I guess the magic ingredient really could be cum, Roland thought to himself. These allowed for things like breathing underwater (in a book where the main character wants to fornicate with a mermaid) and body swapping (this was a theme in multiple books). He had never heard of these types of cantrips before and, as the author explained in one of the prefaces, the use of a consumable reagent was not considered elegant spellcraft and would offend the sensibilities of a true mage. This was perhaps why these spells were not widely discussed. Unfortunately, it was completely unclear what the connection was between the reagent and the action of the spell. Nevertheless, Roland made sure to record all of them.

***

After several hours of studying, Roland looked up and saw that Mallory had returned.

“So can you cast Lara’s Minor Douching yet?” she asked.

Roland stared at Mallory for several seconds. She had cleaned herself up and changed into a blouse and skirt. He was stunned by how beautiful she looked. Feeling mischievous and, perhaps, subconsciously turned on by the lewd books that he’d been pouring over for hours he thought about the ‘Spring Thaw’ cantrip.

“Would you like me to try one on you?” he said with a playful smile on his face.

Mallory’s eye roll made him immediately regretted this creepy attempt at flirting and he returned to the matter at hand.

“Yes, uh, they aren’t too complicated,” he said, stuttering from his embarrassment. “But maybe you were, uh, right.” He regained his composure and continued, “I don’t really see how these will be helpful, even if I am the only one in Relmgard that can use them. They really are -”

At this moment, Nick walked into the room and interrupted Roland’s rambling.

“Mr. Butz? Mr. Howling Butz?” he said, holding up the passport he’d made for Roland.

Roland inspected it and it seemed like Nick had managed to make what looked like an authentic passport.

“Should be passable,” said Mallory. “Guards usually only single out minorities anyways.”

“For sure,” said Nick. “We should get going then.”

“Wait, what?” said Roland. “Nick’s coming with us?”

“You’re heading to Bright Port aren’t you?” said Nick. “I have bunch of Farmers Market flyers I’ve been wanting to put up in the great square they have there. So I’ll tag along.”

Mallory sighed, “Yes, some of his old frat brothers live in Bright Port and know ‘Big T.’ I’ve been planning this out for a while and we’ll need their help.”

“Sorry what exactly are we doing and who is `Big T’?” asked Roland.

Mallory explained, “We’re going to Bright Port to assassinate one of the weakest members of the Chosen — Talon Tabor. Or ‘Big T’ as he likes to be called. An arms merchant during the Heroic Age, he’s since expanded into other ventures like gambling, prostitution, drug trafficking, and, even, slave trading - truly a renaissance man.”

“Sounds like more of a serial entrepreneur to me,” said Nick.

“Anyways,” said Nick. “The whole murdering people thing seems like a nice change pace too. Things are just so hectic around here that I could use a relaxing diversion. I’ve earned it.”

As Nick and Mallory started to prepare for the journey, Roland had a thought that should have occurred to him after his first encounter with Nick: If Mallory and Nick grew up in Dire Fortress, who exactly was their father?