The armor rubbed me in places I’d long forgotten. I jumped up and down and swung my body in odd ways, but not a single squeak did the armor produce. Glyphs were a handy thing, if a power expensive trick for me to use. They required a constant drain on my power to keep them active.

Glyphs. Before the greatest mistake I had ever made, before tragedy, I had been weak in power, my capacity middling at best. I’d been a warrior, but only so far as being a noble in command of soldiers could be called a warrior. Glyphs had been the thing to help me close the gap, which was why I could gauge Ms. Black’s abilities.

A runner had returned from the Baron as Count Orleander mobilized the caravan to move into town. I walked out of a side tent carrying my now-unwrapped sword at my side and fully armored in deepsteel, the dark charcoal gray, burnished surface a testament to its quality and expense. It was a monument to my own former excess wealth, as a Duke, a relic that represented everything I’d come to hate. At least it served a purpose.

Kan’on stood alone off to the side of the pavilion, staring at nothing, apparently focusing his attention inward. I could feel more changes from him emanating along his connected currents in the Flow. Almost there, it wouldn’t be long before he sharpened his willpower enough to buck my control over his magic.

I couldn’t predict what he would do when he overcame this hurdle. Would he stick around? Immediately return home? I guess only time will tell.

The tents came down surprisingly fast, the camp loaded up and the animals hitched. Fast and efficient. Orleander did know how to run a camp.

As the caravan finalized its preparations, I arranged for a couple of horses for me and Kan’on. Trudging around in this armor would be a pain in the ass but would be worth it when fighting off waves of Carvers. The Inculids had me worried though. How did one fight mind controllers?

###

We approached Baron Palambre’s manor trampling mud everywhere we went. Mud covered every conceivable surface. I didn’t mind so much, but the horses seemed to be taking issue with it, and the others faces were distorted in various forms of discomfort.

In my former life I had been accustomed to all kinds of luxurious living spaces… this was not it. Rustic would be understating how country the manor was, especially when the predominant construction material was wood. Still, it appeared to be warm and welcoming, as opposed to the austere stone coffins that the nobility in the central Kingdom lived in.

The caravan had settled in the center of town, pulling the wagons into a defensive perimeter that stretched a good distance around the central promenade. Jass had elected to stay with the wagons and the people there, despite my repeated invitations.

“I’ll be here, practicing. Let me know if you need anything, or if we’re fighting, otherwise, leave me alone.” Kan’on walked off to the other side of the courtyard and sat in a shaded area. He closed his eyes and went dead to the world.

That was the problem with being raised in a world-renowned martial arts school isolated in the mountains from the rest of the civilization, you lost sight of what it meant to be a part of the world. On the other hand, he was a genius of singular focus who would one day be a terrifying monster. I let him be.

Orleander and Ms. Black dismounted next to me, while Clyde remained mounted. He would see to the disposition of the Counts guard force before joining us.

The Baron emerged to greet us, giving me a deep bow in the process. I rolled my eyes, it appeared someone already told him who I was. Well, from his perspective he did his duty, observing the forms, even if to a discount Duke like me.

“There will be none of that. I don’t have the patience to deal with all the bowing and all the ‘Your Grace’ nonsense. Just call me Dash, do as I say, and everything will be fine.”

The Baron rose from his bow, looking a little perturbed, but covering for it smoothly by sweeping his arm toward the entrance to the manor. The fear beneath it all told me that he had already made the connection to the rumors and tragedy connected to me.

“I have prepared a conference room so that we may have a space to make plans.”

“Have you sent out scouts and recalled all of your men at arms?” I asked, following him through the timber hallways of his home. The place really did have a warm feel to it. I could get used to the country lord lifestyle.

“Yes, the scouts are out searching in the direction your man indicated might be the location of the Labyrinth entrance. It will take a while for my men to gather from the surroundings, but they will be here soon.”

We arrived at a comfortable conference room, with maps laid out on the large table surrounded by leather upholstered chairs. Lamps lit the room with a warm glow and the smell of their oily fuel mixed with the smell of lumber to produce a surprisingly welcome ambiance.

“I’ll need you to gather volunteers from the townsfolk, and perhaps the men at arms, to build some defenses. Building any kind of wall or palisade is a waste of time; the Carvers will just run right over it, so I’m thinking we construct an encirclement of spikes, like giant wood caltrops along the edge of the town facing north, then as much as the rest of the town as we can manage.”

We made plans for how to disposition the men. I didn’t have a lot to work with, this sleepy little town didn’t have a standing army, it wasn’t needed. There were enough fighting men to maintain order and control the surrounding territory, and that’s it. It would have to be enough, somehow.

“The Carvers are one thing. They are a known quantity. It’s the Inculids I’m worried about. I don’t know what to expect, but according to the stories I know about them, they’ll have dragged more than Carvers along with them.”

“I’ve not heard of these creatures, what are they capable of?” Palambre asked.

“It’s only a guess that it’s the Inculids, I don’t know for sure, but even then, of the possible things it could be, they are the best possible opponents of a group of bad beings. They are true Deep Ones, a whole sapient race living deep in the Labyrinth beyond our ability to pierce. The stories often call them The Collective because they’re supposed to be a hive mind, or maybe a collective consciousness organized around a queen. One thing for sure is that they are capable of mind control, and the stories say that even their normal soldiers are extremely dangerous, physically. The stories say that when they move within the Labyrinth, they displace everything in their path, or force it into servitude.”

I started to reach for my cubby to fish out a flask, but the complete absence of the cursed pain in the back of my mind made me stay my hand. Clear-headedness was necessary, for as long as was possible. At least until I figured out what the change in the curse meant.

“Displace everything in their path. Like Ilfids, for instance?” Count Orleander said.

“Shit.” It made sense. Ilfid Brutes were vanishingly rare on the surface. The timing was too perfect for it to be a coincidence. “I guess we should expect Ilfids to be thrown at us, and maybe even Brutes, deeps forbid. If Brutes show up, I’ll have to take the field, probably Kan’on and Ms. Black too.”

We continued to discuss the possibilities, but it mostly amounted to speculation. We were working with a limited information puzzle and at some point, a decision needed to be made and followed through with.

Reports from the scouts trickled in, confirming the location of the entrance to be near the origin of the landslide that took out the road. Along with the location, they reported tons of evidence of Carvers, but hadn’t spotted any. It made sense, Carvers were known to prefer the night and twilight hours.

I adjourned the meeting. We could only speculate so much before talking ourselves in circles. Taking a walk around the estate ground, I spotted Kan’on sitting in almost the exact same position I left him in on the far side of the courtyard. He emitted a sharp intent into the Flow.

It wasn’t intentional, but it was a sign that he was on the cusp of achieving what I’d set out for him. The Flow reacting to him directly put his willpower, as far as magic and power were concerned, near the pinnacle of the most powerful people on the continent.

I grunted in frustration. The man was a genius, no argument from me, and it frustrated me to see him accomplish something so quickly that took me many years of direct access to the Flow to achieve, but I felt a touch of pride for him anyway.

I spent the rest of the afternoon pacing around the estate, waiting for the other shoe to drop, agonizing over my newfound freedom from the curse and when that would be taken away from me.

They, whoever ‘they’ were, liked to say that ‘no news is good news’, but I disagreed. No news meant someone somewhere had more time to plot, and with no new information coming from the scouts, it meant that all I could do was sit and wait unless I wanted to risk Orleander and the Baron’s men in an attack on the entrance, through a natural choke point. No thanks.

Eventually, I settled down in the manor, isolated in my own room because I couldn’t stand to be bothered. They all had their orders for now, nothing short of a sighting of enemy movement or an actual attack would change anything right now. It was a waiting game, waiting to see if they left us alone long enough to build out our defenses or if it was going to be a pitched battle.

I pulled out a flask from my cubby, but didn’t drink, just set it on the table in front of me and stared at it. Idle hands were dangerous, especially so for me. I got up and paced, then eventually found a room with a cozy fireplace and settled down to wait out the night.