My words, of course, warranted no reaction from the soldiers. These weren’t normal soldiers, mercenaries, or adventurers – they were Mirtallean slave-soldiers. Regardless of any fear they might hold or risk to themselves, the magic in their collars would force them to follow orders. I could see in their eyes, how they tensed their muscles, and in their ashen complexion on tightly drawn faces that they didn’t want to kill me. They believed it meant their deaths – and any other time, it would have.

Subtly, I prepared to cast my flight spell. My wards weren’t as strong as they had been before my rampage as several of the priests had thrown their unholy magic against me in useless attempts to save their own lives, but if I flew fast enough, I should reach a height unassailable by the archers. It was a risk. In theory, my remaining wards should hold against more than a few arrows. Still, I didn’t know for certain how much was left of them, and I had neither the time nor the mana to correct that.

I was halfway towards completing my spell when my concentration was forceably broken. The sounds of chains rattling, louder than ever before, resounded from the north to echo inside my mind. It wasn’t just the normal spells the slave-priests cast, nor was it the aftershocks of the Mirktal summoning their slave-god. No, it was far worse and one of my deepest fears. I had attracted the attention of the god itself.

Wizard. It called into my mind. Different from the thoughts of an elemental. The voice was more powerful; it had more depth. I felt my attention falling inward, and closed my mind to concentrate. Serve me, wizard. I will grant you anything you desire. Power. Riches. Fame. Women. Serve me and you will have the power to protect humanity. All will cheer each time your name is spoken. All lands will be yours to do with what you will.

I felt paralyzed. When I had been filled with righteous anger at the priests’ sacrifices I hadn’t considered the potential results. It was more an emotional reaction based on how offended I was at what I saw. Part of me regretted acting so quickly. I had attracted the attention of a god. A god that could easily curse me into a goblin.

I could grant you what you most desire. A partner of your choice to live alongside you.

A chill went up my spine with those words, and that fear became panic.

A lover that will never turn you away. A mind that will understand your every need. An equal in magic and thoughts. I can give you this, wizard.

I was sorely tempted and I could somehow feel this god knew that. It was like it could somehow see inside my mind, shape its words to match my desires.

I could share secrets from the earliest age, reveal hidden powers you could barely comprehend. Magical tomes and spells the likes of which you will never find without me. This and more, I could give to you if you but kneel and submit.

My knees began to bend on their own. My hands reached down, nearly touching the broken ground that had once been a courtyard. I struggled against it, refusing to let anything other than myself control my body, but that did no good. Because I wasn’t struggling against someone else but my own inner desires laid bare twisted my mind until I was struggling against myself. I could feel the ward that should have protected me from this, the spell I had crafted after I had seen the snake-god, start to crack and fall away.

Whatever scant protections it gave me were failing, and I was already weary. Several days traveling and casting on end. Recrafting a spell for immediate use. Fighting against the slave-priests. The threat of the soldiers killing me if I should refuse its offer. My willpower was weaker now—the slave-god had chosen the right time to ensnare me. Had it set this trap just for me? Did it already know my name?

I cursed myself for allowing my emotions to drive my actions. Had I not, I would have been guarded against this. With more mana, I could have pushed it into my failing ward. I wouldn’t be at risk of death should I refuse. I wouldn’t be—my mind blanked as I could feel chains start to crawl up my legs. I opened my eyes to stare down, but they weren’t visible. Yet, I could feel them climbing my legs inch by inch, and I rejected it. Even if I died, I would be no one’s slave.

I pushed my mind forward on one thought, on a singular word that escaped my mouth as I struggled, “No.”

The chains didn’t stop, but the temptations faded. Words came into my mind, thick with anger. You reject my offer? I offer you more than I have offered any other mortal, and you refuse?! Then you will be the lowliest slave of the empire. No task shall be beneath you. I will take from you your magic and your hopes. You will know only regret and—

The sounds of chains rattling gave way to a loud snap of metal breaking. The words stopped and my head snapped to the side on its own. Something had happened, and the god’s presence was gone. Not just from my mind, but as I looked about around me with wide eyes, I could see slave collars falling the necks of the soldiers.

Some had collapsed on the spot, whether dead or from exhaustion, I couldn’t tell. Others cried and jumped for joy; their faces held expressions of happiness so great that none could doubt what it was. A few looked troubled, holding their collars and praying, as if their prayers would bring back their slaver-god.

“You!” A woman called from within a group of hugging soldiers. “It was you! I heard you say no, rejected our greatest mast—the god of the slavers.” She bit back the words, habit had seemingly ingrained a title for their god that she didn’t want to use. She, to my growing apprehension, pressed on “You did this! You freed us from the collars! I—I didn’t think I would ever be free! What is your name?”

I shook my head vigorously and waved my hands in her direction, “No. No, no, no! I didn’t free you; it wasn’t me. It was simply a coincidence. It was—it was you! I could tell you all didn’t want to die to my magic. Your refusal broke your own collars! You should thank each other.”

The soldiers, the conscious ones, began to murmur as they focused on the conversation between me and this woman. I took that moment, to walk out of the courtyard, past the growing cacophony of newly freed voices, and walked towards the center of the city. The courtyard before the keep led out through gates to a cross-section of pebbled roads that all met at the worn stone statue of some historic figure. I could puzzle out who it was if I concentrated hard enough, but I had more important tasks at hand. I needed to recast my ward, let my mana return, and return to my tower. Yet, I didn’t want to travel unprepared, nor did several more days flying the skies seem like the best use of my time.

No, I could use this opportunity to build one of the gateways to Froom’s plane. His people could sort out what to do with the freed soldiers and food concerns that came along with raising the city of Laxton Bay. I could then use his gateway to return to my tower within the same day, bypassing any need for travel. So, with a trick of mana and prepared pieces of quartz from my Magical Bag, I began constructing a gateway.

I worked through the remainder of the morning and afternoon, and it was evening by the time I had finished the gateway. A crowd had gathered by then, which started as something of an angry mob. While I worked, the residents of Laxton Bay took their revenge in a series of emotional trials against the soldiers, each other, slavers, and even a goat at one point. While the human criminals, most of which were found guilty, were sentenced to being thrown from the plateau, the goat had been sentenced to a different kind of death that resulted in other animals and food being publicly prepared as a celebration of the city’s freedom.

By the time I had finished the gateway, a festival was underway, with half the participants intoxicated to levels that prevented any form of normal communication. Bonfires of driftwood billowed smoke into the sky, and the scent of sizzling fish permeated the air. Songs and dance filled the cross-streets with revelry and general chaos the theme of the evening, but I paid it no attention. My mana had filled over the course of the day, and while the dungeon core artifacts I had created were nowhere close to full, I had more than enough to fix the remaining parts of my defensive wards and open the gateway.

Despite the light from several nearby bonfires, when the portal opened, it shined a bright blue into the surroundings that caused all the rambunctious partiers to stumble to a halt and stare with open mouths. I pushed a stick I had found through and withdrew it to see if it suffered any damage. Not that I expected it to, I had cast the spell and made the gateway to the exact specifications that I had read and witnessed. Still, I wouldn’t risk myself on such an unknown. The stick came back fine, and I took a deep breath as I prepared to step forward into the portal. If it wasn’t made correctly, my wards should offer me more protection than any of the others present.

Yet, before I could walk through, a drunken man holding a wooden mug of foamy ale quickly staggered past me. In seconds, he returned, wide-eyed and smiling. “Quickly now, you must see! A whole new world!”

I was quite surprised his speech wasn’t slurred, considering the way his body swayed as he stood, but I understood sailors often had different thresholds than those of us who stood on land all day. Instead, I took it to be confirmation that the portal was fully functional. I stepped forward with much more confidence than before, and the portal led through into the same building I had entered before.

Two of Froom’s mages stood with guarded expressions and spells readied to defend against a threat, but I ignored them to cast a quick cleaning spell on myself. I hadn’t cast one in a day in a half and was worried that my appearance wasn’t the best. Then, I looked at the two, a young man and woman with guarded expressions on their faces, gave them a curt nod, and began walking towards the tunnel in the corner that would lead me to Froom’s tower. They turned to stop me but were soon overwhelmed by a veritable flood of drunken people.

It didn’t take long for a servant to meet me along the crystalline tunnel, one who bowed and asked me to follow. I assumed that meant that Alred had received some kind of notice that I had arrived, though I hadn’t seen any specific detection magics. Perhaps another mage from the room of gateways had sent an air elemental ahead. Regardless, I was too exhausted to worry over much about it and let myself be led into the tower and up to a sitting room near the top.

Unlike a more official audience hall or sitting areas I had seen at castles, this seemed to be a room more focused on comfort than grandeur. A rug of monster fur lay on the floor, and light spells hung on the wall. Three couches and two sitting chairs were placed in different areas, and a few bookshelves were set against the walls. I saw tables with personal curios and portraits by artists of various adventurers that hung on the wall. Compared to the murals on the first floor that announced victories, these portraits seemed to be an attempt to capture a memory – something I was more than familiar with.

Alred, looking more lively than when we last spoke, sat in one of the chairs and sipped at a cup of tea. A tray of crackers and cheese was on a small table to his side, and an open book lay on his lap. “Nemon, may I ask why you thought to unleash hundreds of drunks into my receiving area at the small hours of the morning?” His voice had an edge to it, but I also saw him suppress a small smile.

I straightened my robe, and took a seat on a couch across from him, sinking somewhat into the fluffy cushion. “Oh, those are the remnants of Laxton Bay, cheerfully expressing their joy at a newfound freedom from Mirktallean clutches.”

Alred placed a silken strip into the book to mark his place and closed it. Then he took a sip of his tea before speaking. “You freed Laxton Bay?”

I waved away the question. “For all the good it did. I bring poorer news. The Pestilence has reached the coast. They swam around Tervan’s jungles and are eating their way through Laxton as we speak. I’ve raised as much as I could, but as we last spoke…”

“Yes, I’ll send mages to see about evacuating them from the plateaus. I wanted to speak with you about working as a coordinator on the world above for that.”

It took me a small moment to parse that he called the land we came from “the world above”, but that seemed to match with it being seen in the sky from here. I nodded my head. If Alred needed someone to coordinate his people, I could do so from my tower. I nodded, “I could do that. I will be departing back to my tower soon enough.”

“Before you go, I have good news. My mages report that the Mirtallean ritual to summon their god failed because of a team of adventurers yesterday,” he said with a contained smile.

I nodded my head, “One less worry, then. That should make evacuating their lands all the easier.”

“Thank you Nemon. I will speak with you again, soon, old friend,” Alred said as I stood to depart.

“You as well,” I said as I headed to the door.