“Our first few days in Greymoor will be a deep dive into our territory.” Baelin floated in front of a wall-sized illusionary map of the region. “For three days, we will be setting up the main encampment and investigating the region. Each team of surveyors will have their own assigned area to begin investigating and clearing out: you will be camping there each evening—rather than returning to Generasi—and ensuring that you get a feel for the terrain during both daylight and nighttime.”

He moved the illusion to focus on one particular village.

“We will initially teleport into the village of Luthering and meet the military force stationed there under the command of Sir Sean Swift.” The ancient wizard expanded the illusion so the expeditionary team could see the village's basic structure. Alex noted its walls and central buildings: a large tavern and a church.

His eyes lingered on the illusion of the church.

Baelin had spoken with Alex briefly before the meeting: by the chancellor’s request, it had been arranged that the priests normally stationed in the village would be travelling to Devonport in the south when the expedition arrived, ensuring that they’d be away from Luthering. The excuse that Baelin had given to the Thameish authorities had been largely true: he wouldn’t welcome zealous priests questioning their right to be there, or imposing themselves on the teams.

Some eyebrows had been raised, but the request had been granted. Afterall, Thameland would be benefiting from the expedition in many ways, so giving in to the request was considered to be small pain—annoying the priests—for big gain. Despite the agreement, the chancellor would be going through the portal first to make sure no priests had lingered.

Baelin turned from the illusion and let his eyes fall over the briefing room filled with rows of chairs holding members of the expedition.

The survey teams had grown beyond what they were before Leopold’s final attack. Mercenaries, combat-honed students and other volunteers—all vetted and well-trained—had swelled their ranks into what felt like a small army now. Among the new faces, Alex recognized some familiar ones.

In one corner of the room sat Tyris Goldtooth, leaning back with her feet up and ankles crossed on the back of an empty chair in front of her. She was listening intently while picking her teeth with what looked to be a golden toothpick. Across the room sat the diminutive figure of Ripp, the swiftling he and Theresa had met at city hall when they were looking for a bounty for the second part of their first date.

There were others who’d competed in The Games of Roal—who Alex knew by sight, but not by name. He was kinda disappointed, but also relieved not to see Kybas there. The goblin-wizard deserved to do what he liked best, enjoy his moments of peace, tend his garden, feed Harmless, and watch him grow.

Of course, that meant Alex and his companions would be doing the opposite of enjoying moments of peace, but that’s what they’d signed up for. He checked his friends’ body language and expressions.

Isolde looked stern. Thundar fidgeted. Claygon, was just Claygon of course. Khalik had squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. Svenia and Hogarth whispered to each other. Theresa sat bolt upright in her chair with her deathstalker expression on.

And Grimloch…

…was Grimloch licking his lips?

Alex shuddered. It seemed that while most of his friends were feeling like he did—filled with anticipation and nerves—Grimloch looked like he was simply heading to the market to grab a nice snack.

Well, if he liked ‘Ravener-spawned monster’ he’d find plenty of snacks in Thameland.

“Each of you shall receive a kit,” the chancellor said, cutting through Alex’s thoughts. “It will contain magically treated bandages to ward off infection, poultices to accelerate healing and dull pain, dried rations, and a canteen for water, wine or whatever beverage you decide to fill it with. One note to all. I will personally rip apart the first person I become aware of who drinks to excess on this expedition, or who shows up for our work already in any state of drunkenness.”

Several people in the room laughed, but Alex didn’t join in. He knew better: Baelin wasn’t joking. Exaggerating, maybe, but probably not by much. Anyone whose wits weren’t sharp, would be a liability to the expedition and their team members.

“You will also find a compass, spyglass, notebooks, pens and pigments for use in marking trails and making rough maps. We will bring cartographers in later to do more precise mapping once all of our territory has been explored and your reports of the terrain have been processed. Finally—though you should all be capable of producing magical light—you will find lanterns and alchemical oil within each pack as well as a fifty-foot length of rope. The kit is somewhat weighty, but they are designed to evenly distribute the weight and lessen the burden on your body.”

Baelin raised a hand, calling a pack from a table across the room where dozens had been laid out in a row. The pack had the five towers of the university emblazoned on the front. “Do not lose these bags: the enchantment on each functions outside of Generasi’s ambient mana, and so they are not only expensive, but more importantly, contain much of what you will need to survive should something go awry; the enchantment acts to preserve foodstuffs, keeping them stable longer.

He gestured to a side pouch on the pack. “Use the side pouches for small sample collection: over time, you will be provided with larger sample bags to allow you to gather more. Next-”

Reaching into the bag, he took out three cylinders: one blue, one yellow and one a deep, blood red.

“-your flares. Some of you have mastered the fourth-tier spell: Talk Through the Wind, but many have not. As such, each team will be provided with a messenger construct. However, for emergencies, each team member will have access to these three fireworks designed to fire into the air and explode in its corresponding colour-”

He tapped a brass cap with a pin in it. “-once the pin is pulled. The blue firework will signal that you have found something of major, immediate interest, and that all surrounding surveying teams should congregate on your position. Yellow will indicate that you have encountered danger of some kind and would like assistance, but are under no immediate threat of harm. Red is for emergency situations only: only make use of the red flare if you are in imminent danger and require all teams to move in to provide immediate aid. Are there any questions?”

Someone raised their hand. “Will you be there, Chancellor?”

“I will be with you in Greymoor on the first day of exploration, but I have other commitments for the following days.”

Silence filled the room.

“Fear not: I have full confidence in your abilities and there will also be a detachment of Watchers accompanying you for added security.” He looked at the teams of surveyors. “Remember, you are all highly competent, or experts in your own particular fields whether that be academics, exploration, or battle. Fear is rational, but do not let it master you. Now, any other questions?”

The room was silent.

Baelin drew himself up. “Very well. Then let us not delay a moment longer.”

Professor Jules cleared her throat. “Alright, the following medical staff will be assigned to each team of surveyors!”

The medical staff watched as each team stood. “Hugh House is assigned to Team 1-”

A lean man with a walking stick got up and introduced himself to his team.

“-Neil P. Howser is assigned to Team 2-”

A young, blonde man made his way over to the next team.

“We are next,” Khalik said.

“-Hiiragi Makaira is assigned to Team 3-”

A young woman with short, jet-black hair quickly stood, smoothed her clothing and walked—with short, quick steps—to Alex’s team.

“It’s a pleasure to meet everyone,” she said, looking up at them. She was even shorter than the squat Hogarth. “I hope that we can take care of each other.”

“Likewise,” Alex said, stepping forward and shaking her hand. “You don’t know us yet, but I can promise that we ’ll use everything we’ve learned from combat to look out for you and ourselves. That'll keep the need for blood magic down.”

“I second what Alex said.” Khalik shook her hand and introduced himself. “Let’s see if we can ensure you will not have to lift a finger.”

“Indeed, no offence to your skills, but the less you are called upon to use them, the better,” Isolde said.

“No offence taken,” Makaira said. “I agree: healing is a skill where it would be better if it’s rarely needed.”

“Team members!” Another professor called for everyone’s attention. “Collect your kit from the table then proceed to the teleportation chamber!”

“Here we go,” Alex said, glancing at his friends.

The teleportation circle was wide enough to transport about twenty people at a time—less if they were Grimloch or Claygon-sized—to their destination. The chamber surrounding it was large enough to accommodate a small army. It was in a building that looked to be capable of withstanding an ogre siege, located on the outskirts of the complex closest to the sea.

Iron beams reinforced the stone structure and what looked to be steel forged doors, provided entry. Watchers of Roal stood on guard both outside and inside the building to prevent anyone from breaching the teleportation chamber, or intruding from the teleportation circle itself. From what Alex had been told, a situation like that shouldn’t happen, but with magical creatures, one should never trust in absolutes.

“I expect you to conduct yourselves as proper representatives of the university!” Professor Jules announced. “Treat the locals—whether they be authorities or otherwise—with respect! Remember, you are not only serving as ambassadors of our academic community, but also of the city of Generasi: there’ve been more than enough expeditions ruined by partricipants treating local guides as though they were slaves or vermin. Conduct yourself politely, professionally and with efficiency-”

“And have a plan to kill anyone you meet,” a student whispered and his team members joined each other in suppressed laughter.

“-and in a dignified manner. You are wizards and academics, not barbarians going raiding.”

“But maybe just a little like barbarians going on a raid,” Baelin said, earning a glare from Professor Jules. “Raiding this Ravener, to be precise.” Alex laughed at that. “Alright, Team 1, proceed to the circle!” The chancellor instructed.

The first group looked at their team members then made their way to the circle accompanied by a detachment of five Watchers, and Baelin. He nodded to the rest of the teams. “I am going to activate the teleportation circle. If I am not back here within a count of thirty, prepare for battle and do not enter the circle under any circumstances.” His announcement was met with nervous nodding.

Raising his hands, the ancient wizard chanted a spell that made the air thrum with power. Alex felt immense teleportation magics connect two distant points in space. The circle began to glow beneath the team’s feet, growing into a shimmering portal of light.

The light flared.

Those standing in the circle sank into the glow until they vanished.

The circle of light shimmered in silence for one second.

Then two.

Then three.

The waiting teams shifted uncomfortably, apprehension crept over them.

“Ten…eleven…” Alex counted, his hand resting on his bag of potions. “…twelve…thirteen…four-”

A horned head rose from the pool of light: relief swept through the room.

“All is well on the other end so the other teams may proceed. Team 2, you can safely enter the circle,” he said, then glanced at Alex. There was a subtle nod of his head.

That was the signal. No priests on the other side.

The chancellor once again sank beneath the circle of light.

“You heard the chancellor!” Professor Jules called. “It’s time to go, Team 2!”

The second team sank into the pool of shimmering light.

“We’re next,” Theresa whispered.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “We’re finally going back home.”

His grip tightened on the strap of his bag and he adjusted his right shoulder. ‘Well, Mark of the Fool,’ he thought. ‘If you wanted me back there…I guess in a way, you’re getting what you wanted. But, I’m going back in my own way, not yours.’

“Team 3, please proceed to the circle!” Professor Jules cried.

With a final look around and a nod to each other, Alex and his group stepped into the pool of shimmering light. It flared beneath their feet and—for a moment—Alex caught the scent of fresh rain.

Then, they were sinking into the pool, watching the chamber—and Generasi—rise then disappear around them. For a heartbeat, Alex was consumed by a whirlwind of sights and sounds from a thousand broken images originating from a host of planes.

His gut shifted.

The crown of his head broke the surface of another portal; he felt cool, damp air brush his hair as he re-entered the material world. Heartbeats later, his head and shoulders broke the surface of the pool of light, then one by one, his team appeared.

Alex blinked rapidly at the sudden change of light and scenery.

Gone were the reinforced walls and magical lights of the teleportation chamber.

They’d been replaced by a cool light from an early morning sun filtering through dull, grey clouds. A damp chill suffused the wind. The scent of mud and manure mixed with fresh rain, an odour Alex hadn’t smelled in over a year. Buildings made of dark wood and topped with thatched roofs had horses, mules and armed men and women walking between them. The scent of horse was strong, but there was also a smell of…something else.

Something almost overpowering.

“It’s cold,” Khalik said, pulling his cloak tighter around his broad shoulders.

“Get used to it, this is normal,” Alex said. “Welcome to Thameland, friends.”

After a little over a year, The Fool had returned home.

A titanic orb of darkness pulsated somewhere deep within the earth, hovering over a vast pool of black, stagnant water.

The cavern around it had been expanded: dungeon cores were embedded in the walls to reinforce them. Monsters had been spawned by the thousands to fill a network of tunnels which had grown into a seemingly endless maze.

The Ravener was filled with energy: it had escalated its efforts like in ancient times, encouraging its monsters to rampage throughout the countryside.

Fear flooded into it from all corners of the land, and with that fear, came power. Growing power.

And yet-

Something had shifted.

Something in the south of the realm.

A tiny ripple of energy: from the one who had controlled one of its dungeon cores. And…something else. An anomaly: a mana signature that was somehow…familiar.

But right now, other things were of greater importance.

The Usurper had returned to Thameland.

And there was work to be done.