“And then?” Maiz shifted on his little seat. He really did like the Library--there was a remarkably safe feeling about a quiet, well-lit room full of books and little else. Like everything in the Temple though, it was set in shades of gray: gray stone walls, with floor and ceiling of the same material. Even the shelves were carved directly from the stone, though of course the actual documents were still honest paper. He refocused on Hugan, sitting across the stone table, looking over his book.

“He moved his troops into the dragon’s wing formation, and… wait I know this one, slaughtered the invaders.”

“Nice.” Maiz meant it--Hugan was getting even better. He’d asked Maiz to come here, and even though he hadn’t even touched his staff or the enchanted helmet since the battle the day before, he had agreed. Somehow, it had sounded far too tempting to refuse.

“Thanks. The glorious general employed his mages with particular skill, making use of the… uh, the dis-pro-portionate number of uh, Geomancers in his ranks, the title being far more common in the Reaches than the hot wastelands and wet forests to the West. They were able to employ Soften Earth to great effect, destroying the charge of the mounted Knights and Lancers, and allowing the Farsilers to employ their throwing spear... barrages on stranded targets. The troop formation reduced the effective-ness of the Forcefinders’ catapults, which were the primary advantage of the Illisonian’s in the conflict. The glorious general and his three lieutenants, all Masters in their titles, then took the field and neutralized the greater forces of the enemy, allowing the remaining small troops to secure victory.”

Hugan sighed, a sound so utterly out of character for the young Warden that it shocked Maiz out of the stupor from listening to the passage.

“Are you--”

“--sorry Maiz. The battle was… you know.” The giant young man looked off slightly to the side, clearly embarrassed. Maiz could see now that he looked a little more tired than usual, though the change was miniscule. At Hugan’s Constitution, it took quite a bit more than a sleepless night to truly put one under the weather.

“I know.” Sort of. Actually… “Was it the killing or, uh--”

“--no, not really, I guess. I mean, we killed those other people too. They’re the ones trying to take over the Temple or whatever, so it’s not like they’re innocent.”

Maiz agreed. Combatants lived in battle, whether against each other or monsters or--in the worst cases--weaker people, and he couldn’t really feel a moral compunction at killing people who were trying to kill him. It was mostly just fear that he or his friends would die, and most of that came after the fact for him. But Hugan still had a troubled look on his face, and he was rubbing his arm unconsciously, still not making eye contact with Maiz.

“So what is it?”

“I… don’t really know. I didn’t really do any leading, did I?”

Maiz almost laughed, but Hugan looked so serious, he held back. “It gets a little tough to hear when we’re fighting, you know?”

Hugan did laugh, and the sound was still as happy as ever. “That didn’t come out right--I mean, even if we’re not doing anything wrong, it’s still not… you know.”

Oh. Hugan wanted to be a hero. Maiz had once too, a bit, but he couldn’t really reconcile that dream with the reality of being the lying champion of a dubious god. Still, he had an easy answer to that line of thinking for Hugan at least, if not himself.

“You saved my life, didn’t you? And the commander’s? I mean that’s sort of your whole thing. It isn’t like the fighting wouldn’t happen if you weren’t there, so you’re still doing a good thing by having our backs.”

Hugan nodded slowly.

“Yeah, that’s kind of obvious right? But I guess it’s enough--it isn’t like I can change anything by sitting around moping. Just got to get better at this now.” He grinned, and Maiz knew if there wasn’t a table in the way he’d be getting a slap on the back. “Thanks!”

Maiz grinned. He agreed with Hugan--it was obvious advice, but the real problem wasn’t that Hugan felt conflicted about what they were doing, it was that no one could ever be the person that Hugan wanted to be without compromising. Maiz wondered how many people died in the north quarter of Caelos, all those years ago, because Roon the Defender decided to make a stand in the east end. Hells, he wondered if there were little baby lizardmen who had lost their father when he’d killed that Saurian in the training grounds. Hugan was a good person, and defending the Temple was a good thing, but it wasn’t perfect. That would have to be enough for him.

If there was a rationalization skill, I would be an Adept by now. Maiz shook his head, clearing the moral ramblings. Truth be told, he would defend the Temple for the power it offered if nothing else, and the fact that he was defending Lila’s home, and the lives of people like Adrian and Juya, made it that much easier. Speaking of defending the Temple...

“I’m going to do some training. I don’t think you really need my help with the book, do you?”

Hugan looked up, and Maiz could already see some of the concern had left his face. Some, but not all. “Yeah, thanks! Have fun!”

Maiz continued on into the Journeyman section of the Path, but he wasn’t really trying. He let himself get hit by an inscribed post, and after appearing in front of the stone door, went to retrieve his stolen helmet from his room. He didn’t pass many people on the way. The other divisions were either training or fighting, and the rest of the Warrior Monks were resting from the same.

It took him little time to get into the Purple Room, though handling the helmet was somewhat annoying--he didn’t want to put it on again, now that he wasn’t in a life or death situation. That was a bit too grim, even for him.

“Now, what to do first?” He still had to try and figure out the new skill, Shadowcloak, and he had managed to take another look at the description while helping Hugan, but… his curiosity was too strong.

Now, how does this work? He stared at the helmet for a solid minute. It was a metal piece, all sharp slanting angles on top and ending in a slight lip. There was a rather wide gap for the eyes, and grating for the mouth. He couldn’t discern a carving on it, until he looked on the inside. Huh. That’s interesting. It was inscribed, certainly, but that meant very little to him. Still, it was nice to see that there was at least a somewhat familiar mechanism to the enchantment. But still… he somehow didn’t think that magic nullification was a particularly common type of enchantment, or else he would have at least heard a bit more about it before.

Now then, what to do? Oh right, Mana Sense. The world lit up in… purple. Not much of a change. But the helmet glowed faintly on the inside with a strange gray light. Not silver like his own mana, but a dull gray, like old steel. He considered it for a moment. How to get at the mana? He certainly couldn’t manipulate it directly--once it was disconnected from the body, you couldn’t even manipulate your own mana.

Wait… could he just cast the Farsight on the helmet itself? Worth a try.

He let mana that was place fill him, until he was aware of his surroundings in a way he never quite felt normally, and formed the pattern. The web of mana extended out of him, and he targeted the helmet. He could feel the questing threads, looking for something to latch on to, and for a moment they almost slipped. He pushed, until the mana covered the inside and finally found the enchantment. It held, and he completed the pattern, sending the spell shooting out of himself like an arrow, stretching his mana further than he ever had before. The spell only used a small portion of his mana, but that bit quickly became an impossibly fine thread as it stretched towards his target.

Maiz’s vision went black, and he managed to sit down before the sight of an older man sporting a graying beard and a simple brown tunic filled his eyes. The man was rather overweight, but he wore it well, like a kind old grandfather. He was awake--his eyes were looking at something intently, his hands shifting materials about, but the details around the edge of the man’s frame were blurred. In a moment, the vision vanished.

Well that told me nothing. Maiz was disappointed, but a larger part of him was pleased that the spell worked. The real question was, was this man in particular responsible for the strange enchantments in the army, or was he just part of a team? Moreover, was he currently with the invaders, or left behind in whatever country they came from?

More questions than answers, and the only way he could get more information was by training his Farsight, and perhaps by finding more enchanted items to cast the spell on. But there was another, more intriguing, project he could focus on for a bit.

Maiz resettled his seat, took a deep breath, and began to think about death.