On the fourteenth day since the return of the quartet, the Sodality squad’s routine was interrupted. Breaking their fast, the various members of the Sodality were gathered in the great hall when the door to the vestibule creaked open.

“Expecting guests?” Ser Griffiths questioned Master Palus while rising to his feet. The former Paladin reached for his warhammer but remembered he had left it in his chambers.

“Expecting? No. ‘Oping for? Yes. I suspect the Mages ‘ave a message,” Master Palus replied calmly. “Sit down, sit down, can’t ‘ave you making a bad first impression.”

Ser Griffiths settled back into his chair as a wooden thumping echoed through the great hall. Moments later, a blue cloaked figure stomped into view, each jerky footstep punctuated by the sound of wood striking stone. The figure’s head was obscured by a low-hanging hood, although two blue flames blazed where Irobu suspected its eyes should be. It shuddered to a stop when it was ten meters from the breakfast table.

Some kind of golem? Thrun puzzled. Those flames indicate remote sensing.

“Salutaaaations,” a tinny voice addressed the Sodality members as the figure performed a shaky bow.

That tinny voice sounds like a projection spell, Thrun pieced together.

“This is the Esteemed Sodaaaality of Excursionist headquarters?” the blue cloaked figure followed up, dragging out each hard “a”.

“Aye, indeed it is,” Master Palus answered. “And who might you be?”

“A shame, this castle must have been beautiful once,” the uninvited guest muttered. Irobu noticed the being stood unnaturally still. “I am Raim the third, ambassador for the League of Sane Artificers and Spellslingers. Our leader was most intrigued by your correspondence, Gildor. Most intrigued. Especially after word reached him of the vampires your team exterminated. This is the squad, yes?”

“These four,” Master Palus confirmed as he pointed to each seated squad member one after the other.

“A knight, a shepherd, a Sanusite and an elf,” Raim marveled; the flames beneath his hood turned towards each member as he listed them, though they lingered on Swift the longest. “The rumors were true. I thought our sources were mocking us when they described your identities. An elf, full-blooded by the look of her…” Raim trailed off.

Swift scowled at the blue cloaked interloper and opened her mouth for a scathing rebuke. Master Palus flashed her a stern look, and instead she stifled her protest. Irobu observed that Swift was grasping a fork so tightly her knuckles went white.

“Undoubtedly Bisior the uh…Magnificent sent you ‘ere for a reason, Raim. Shall we discuss those matters in my study?” Master Palus suggested, urgently motioning to stand. “I’d ‘ate to further disturb the breakfast of our finest members, after all.”

“That will suffice,” Raim stated seconds later.

“Right this way. The rest of you wait ‘ere,” the old Sanusite commanded as he ventured through the door to his chambers. Raim teetered in his wake in the same awkward gait he used during his entrance. Swift, Harold, and Irobu watched them go; the orphans as well as William and George were already focused back on their eggs and oats. A stale odor lingered in the great hall.

“They still wear the same cloaks,” Swift muttered, staring off into space, “And have that same stupid accent. They haven’t changed a bit, Palus is a fool.”

“Be reasonable, those are superficial complaints. Give this Raim a chance. You’ve been in the forest quite a while,” Ser Griffiths reminded. Irobu wasn’t sure that Swift heard the former paladin. Faced with a potentially long wait, Harold, Ser Griffiths and Irobu returned to their meals. Meanwhile, Irobu thought back on what she’d been taught about the Mages.

Arrogant. Willing to do anything for power, glory or renown. Many are devout, though they worship Móhuàn, a weaker god without power here. They supposedly despise Sanusites.

Raim did seem arrogant, and his master’s title did seem Thrun-esque, so that much appears to still be accurate, she assessed.

At least two spells have been used on Raim, both of which have rather limited duration. Thus they’d need to be recast frequently, meaning their magic is working here, Thrun joined in on the analysis.

So perhaps their god does have power here, Irobu contemplated.

Or they’re using an alternative source of arcane energy, as I recall that Palus said this was one of the less fanatical factions.

But we haven’t heard of any mishaps, and we know Buain’s magic causes them, so wouldn’t Móhuàn’s magic, or any other source do the same?

I still don’t know the nature of the enchantment. Be that as it may, having a conversation with this Raim might prove enlightening.

Regardless of their magical capabilities, if Raim, or this Bisior fellow hate Sanusites, they aren’t making it obvious. So was this another untruth from the Priests, or is this faction more accepting?

The former I suspect. Hekal wants to paint a picture of an unwelcoming world filled with adversaries and idiots, such that none of his followers ever leave home and have their views challenged. He’d rather they spend their days toiling in his name and spend their free time praising him.

Memories from Gargam bubbled to the surface: all the exhausting days of mining and schoolwork, and all the nights spent with her family reading through Hekal’s scripture.

That was certainly a simpler era, Irobu reflected while playing with the last flecks of yolk on her plate. It was so compelling, striving to honor Hekal and be the best Sanusite possible…and in return for 17 years of devotion I got saddled with a demon, forcing me to leave all that behind, her daydream soured. Sometime later, Master Palus and Raim reappeared on the raised platform above the nine other Sodality members. Raim was immediately the focal point of the room, for he had removed his low-hanging hood.

The soft, mid-morning light exposed that Raim wore a half porcelain and half silver mask. It depicted a man’s face; its chiseled jawline and symmetric features rendered it indisputably handsome. Nonetheless, otherworldly blue flames burned in its eye sockets and both Raim’s bald head and neck were an unsavory gray color. Irobu glimpsed the chain of a necklace or amulet that disappeared down into his blue cloak.

By Diarmid’s beard, Thrun gaped. That’s a reanimated body! He’s…using it as a vessel, how depraved!

So there were some spells not even the Nzank would touch. Interesting. I take it that’s not really Raim then?

Obviously. The real Raim is likely in Eberucis, piloting this husk. It would seem the Mages of Qert haven’t developed their ethics since I last roamed this land.

“My apologies for the delay, comrades,” Master Palus broke the silence. “Raim and I ‘ad a most productive conversation. The League of Sane Artificers and Spellslingers ‘ave presented us with a contract, which if we complete, will prove immeasurably ‘elpful in our quest to banish the Spellmarsh.”

“If I may, Master Palus,” Ser Griffiths raised a hand. The old Sanusite nodded to proceed. “What does our end of the proposition entail?”

“Better you ‘ear it straight from the source,” Master Palus ceded the question to Raim.

“Aaaaaaa fair question, Ser Knight, and to answer it I must tell a story,” Raim’s tinny, accented voice declared. “A story still used to scare children in the more devout factions. Our tale begins many years ago, in the gaudy and gilded halls of the Reach.”

The Reach? Irobu repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

It was supposed to be a palace for the leading council of Qert, designed in the shape of a hand rising out of the ground. They had barely completed the thumb when it was time for me to ascend.

“One councilor stuck out from the rest. Her name was Payora the Wise, though she is known to the official history books as Payora the Paranoid. Regardless of her title, Payora was a genius when it came to protective spells. It's said that it was her spells that guarded the Qertisian regiments during their conquest of Eberucis. Considering every elven spell, she crafted a barricade able to anticipate and nullify each and every one.

“Her barrier worked perfectly, or it would have, had Aonachd not intervened. The creator Himself eventually dispelled the effect on the Qertisian regiments, but too many of the elves had already been slaughtered or lost faith in Him, and so Aonachd’s power rapidly waned.

“Qert was victorious, but Payora was not satisfied. She wanted to prevent a repeat scenario, and therefore set out to create a method to block divine intervention. Needless to say, Móhuàn and the rest of the council found out about her machinations. Summarily, she was exiled to ‘Tributius’ as you all call it, to live out a life devoid of magic—or risk a short end. Our League has reason to believe there is truth to the story, and that the plans for this method still reside in Payora’s tower here. Your portion of the proposition is to retrieve Payora’s journals documenting her process and bring them to me,” Raim finished.

“How do you know any documentation, let alone the tower they supposedly reside in, still exists?” Irobu inquired skeptically.

“We have our methods. Magic can be very powerful when not plagued by constant mishaps and pesky gods,” the blue cloaked husk teased.

“Assuming what you’ve said is true, where is this tower?” Ser Griffiths sought clarification.

“Near the northwestern most peak of the Imperators. About three weeks’ journey.”

Is that close to your body in the Imperators? Irobu hoped.

No. Our facility was inside Ghurde, one of the central peaks. Hard to get to on foot regardless.

“You’re expecting us to risk our lives for the monstrous Mages of Qert of all people, and you won’t even tell us what the Sodality is getting out of it?” Swift shot daggers at the two figures standing above them, though her ire was focused on Master Palus.

“Swift, show our guest res—” Master Palus attempted to curtail the elf’s outburst.

Raim’s vessel interrupted the old Sanusite by emitting a hearty, metallic laugh. “Spoken like a true elf. I see no harm in filling you in on the details. First off, we’d provide a means of using this ‘divine-blocker’ for the expedition into the Spellmarsh. Can’t have any jealous gods interfering, now can we?” the azure flames tilted towards Irobu.

Why would Hekal want to interfere? He seems to barely focus on the Sanusites, I find it hard to fathom he’d be concerned with the schemes of the southern half of the continent.

He could swoop in to steal the glory for himself, or perhaps he fears what this makeshift coalition would do once the Spellmarsh is gone, Thrun guessed.

“And the second thing we offer to your Sodality are these,” Raim’s vessel proclaimed as its gray hands shakily pulled on the chain around its neck. The movement exposed a complicated piece of jewelry hanging at the bottom of the chain. Eight spherical sapphires the size of grapes were the core of the piece. The gemstones were arrayed in two rows of four and rested on a base plate inscribed with runes. Silvery rods ran through the centers of the spheres, which attached them to vials containing a red liquid on each side of the sapphires.

Runes of…redirection? Thrun deciphered the symbols.

Perhaps it’s the light, but isn’t that liquid reminiscent of blood?

Strange indeed.

“What’s that gaudy thing supposed to do?” Swift needled, frowning at the jewelry.

“It allows mages to cast spells on ‘Tributius’ without dealing with the mishaps that have long plagued this land. Your Sanusite mage, something of an oxymoron I might add, should find this an incredibly useful tool. And perhaps you might as well elf, magic is in your blood,” Raim explained with chuckle.

Would it work? Irobu asked Thrun.

It seems possible at least. I can’t decipher all their runes, but it looks like they created a device to redirect the magical energy that would go into causing mishaps to doing something else.

“Prove it,” Irobu interjected, setting her steely gaze on Raim’s vessel.

“Happily, but don’t tell Hekal,” Raim agreed as one of the blue flames briefly fluttered out. The vessel contorted its hands and bumbled through a spell, at the conclusion of which a ball of flame appeared in its hand. Closing its hand around the ball to snuff it out, Raim’s husk recast the spell several times. Ser Griffiths and Master Palus surveyed the great hall nervously, but there were no signs of additional magical effects.

“And so you now see why I accepted the League’s proposition. ‘Aving Irobu cast spells unimpeded is a great boon to our efforts, and the ‘divine-blocker’ is a worthwhile precaution. You’ll set out for the tower tomorrow. Thad will prepare your provisions. Make sure your weapons are sharp and that you get a good rest; you’ll be needing both, I imagine. All except Swift, you are dismissed,” Master Palus called the meeting to a close.

Without delay, the orphans began cleaning up the breakfast table, while George and William passed through one of the doors on the raised platform. Ser Griffiths and Harold too departed through one of those doors, lost in a conversation about the appropriate times for various prayers to Buain. Swift had her arms crossed beneath her golden robe; Irobu could practically hear her grinding her teeth. Raim whispered something to Palus, and ungracefully jumped from the raised platform. The husk then plodded over to one of the stained tables on the perimeter of the great hall and sat facing the wall. Meanwhile, Master Palus carefully stepped down off the platform.

Now’s my chance to talk to Raim, Irobu resolved and left the scene of the impending showdown between Master Palus and Swift. The young Sanusite reached the blue cloaked vessel as the shouting commenced behind her.

“May I ask you some questions, Raim?” Irobu broached carefully. Taking in the clear sky above, the husk’s blue flames were directed upwards at the newly cleaned windows.

A moment later the vessel’s neck tweaked towards Irobu, burning into her with the bright cobalt flames of its gaze. “Aaaaaaah yes, the walking contradiction. So long as I can ask as many in return,” Raim offered slyly. “But first, tell me your name.”

“Irobu Vikria,” she said proudly, taking a seat across from the strange guest.

What to ask first, what to ask first… Irobu pondered.

Ask how he designed the necklace, and what that liquid in the vials is, Thrun commanded.

“What do you know of the Nzank?” she finally decided.

What a worthless questio— Thrun started to complain.

I still need to figure out what you were really like, and these Mages probably know more than Palus. I’ll consider your suggestion, she dismissed while ignoring Thrun’s further complaints.

“I didn’t foresee myself giving history lessons to Sanusites when I awoke this morning,” Raim quipped robotically. He then paused a minute before declaring, “So be it. I will answer your question with a story:

“Many ages ago, a lonely brother and sister roamed the world. The pair created majestic works of art during their travels, but they longed for recognition. First they came upon a tall man in the forest, but he was only interested in their father—a wondrous craftsman of great renown. A woman in the jungle and a man from the savannah also paid the siblings and their creations no mind. They eventually traversed the entire world, and yet nobody was interested in the pair or their art.

“‘Our creations are almost as good as our father’s’, they complained, ‘and yet he overshadows us at every turn.’

“On the verge of giving up, the brother and sister concocted a plan to gain the attention they deserved.

“‘Perhaps,’ they schemed, ‘if we taught the men and women of the world to make their own art, they would value us and appreciate how wondrous our creations truly are.’

“The pair retraced their path across land and sea and again spoke with the litany of people they had met during their first journey. The forest and jungle dwellers turned down the siblings’ offer out of respect for their father. Nevertheless, the man from the savannah and a woman from the coast had secretly longed to make art of their own.

“They both accepted the tutelage of the siblings, but the siblings argued over which of the two they should instruct. The brother argued that the man from the savannah would be a better pupil because he had a wealth of animals and scenery to draw inspiration from. Opting for teaching the woman from the coast, the sister alleged that the ferocity of those animals had tainted that man’s heart. The siblings argued back and forth for days. They ultimately reached an impasse, and so the once inseparable brother and sister parted ways to teach their respective students,” Raim concluded and his grating voice came to a halt.

“And that answers my question how exactly?” Irobu inquired, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“The Nzank were the man from the savannah.”

“And the brother and sister?”

“I’ll leave the rest for you to figure out. Surely a Sanusite can coax out the meaning,” Raim teased.

Typical Qertisian, evasive and verbose, Thrun assessed. I told you that was a worthless question.

“Now it’s my turn,” Raim reminded eagerly. The fires in his sockets flared up. “Who or what do you draw your magic from, and how did you come upon it?”

Uh… Irobu frantically thought of what to say.

Tell him you draw upon the magic of the natural world and that you first tapped into it during the cave-in incident, Thrun calmly advised.

Irobu followed through with Thrun’s plan and detailed a similar story to the one she had told the Master Palus.

“How…curious,” Raim muttered when she finished spinning her doctored yarn. “To think a woman barely grown could use that technique…though there is quite a bit of energy pent up here…food for thought no doubt.”

“My turn again. How did you design your necklace, and what’s in the two vials?” Irobu begrudgingly started the next round of questions.

You should be thanking me for asking your stupid question, demon, Irobu prodded.

You should be treating me with more respect, girl, Thrun snapped back. I’ve been putting up with your insolent attitude for quite a while. Know that even the wise Nzank have breaking points.

“Hmmm, I’ll skip the details, because they’d probably pass over your head—” Raim disparaged the young Sanusite.

“No. I already know you have redirection runes on the back plate,” the young Sanusite pressed; she refused to let Raim treat her like an idiot. “Tell me about all the components and how you designed them.”

“How observant of you,” Raim marveled, blue flames examining her anew. “You are quite an interesting specimen. The design dates back to roughly the time the Spellmarsh was created, some one hundred and twenty years ago. The Council sought to invade Tributius, but they were well aware of the enchantment hanging over the continent. They tasked one of the brightest minds of the time, Metrobious the Cunning, with finding a way to safely cast spells here. This necklace’s design was the end result of his many years of…excruciating research, shall we say.

“The necklace requires eight sapphires, two centimeters in diameter aligned in a two by four rectangle shape. They’re connected by three millimeter in diameter platinum rods that attach to the baseplate, which, as you rightly noted, is inscribed with a series of redirection runes. Also attached to the platinum rods are the two vials, filled with fifteen milliliters of …” Raim trailed off. His husk spasmodically spun its neck towards the breakfast table, where Swift and Master Palus were still exchanging heated remarks.

“Elf blood,” the tinny voice completed the sentence as Raim’s vessel looked back to Irobu. “It has a miraculous ability to tame the chaotic magic streams that appear when casting spells here. If not for that vital component, redirection would be impossible.”

So they harness the magical surges the enchantment causes by taming them with elf blood and temporarily storing them in the sapphires, then use the captured energy to enhance the spell as it’s being cast, Thrun put together. A slick method, but the necklaces must cost a fortune to fabricate. If they swapped out the—

Can it. We need to be ready for his question. Hekal only knows what he plans to ask next, Irobu interrupted Thrun’s train of thought.

“And now my turn once more. Tell me about the elf,” Raim requested eagerly. “How old is she? How did she get here? Are there more in this decrepit place?”

“Why do you want to know?” Irobu queried somewhat defensively.

“I didn’t ask about the motivations for your questions, show me the same respect. Answer the questions, Irobu,” Raim requested firmly.

Behind the blue cloaked husk, she saw that Swift and Master Palus had ended their argument and passed through different doors on the raised platform. “Fine,” Irobu grimaced. “Swift is at least one hundred and twenty years old, and she escaped from your colony when an accident caused some kind of catastrophe. Probably the same catastrophe that caused the Spellmarsh. She’s the only elf here. And don’t tell her I said any of that,” Irobu implored the mage.

“If you insist, I will abide by your wishes. That will be all for now, for I have other matters to attend to. Tata, young Irobu. Best of luck on your mission,” Raim bade farewell with a slowly fading chuckle. Irobu left the husk and returned to her room, where she prepared for the upcoming mission while puzzling over Raim’s story about the Nzank.

Definitely an allegory. So the brother must be Hekal, if he chose to tutor the Nzank. Though the Expanse is a desert, not a savannah now. Was it always that way? Irobu inquired to Thrun, though after a few moments without response, she continued with her reasoning. The sister must be another god—Móhuàn, perhaps? And the father Aonachd. The elves were the forest man and the jungle woman represent the cat people. By the sound of it, Móhuàn was right not to trust the hearts of the Nzank, something clearly led to their destruction.

The hearts of the Nzank were just and noble. Don’t listen to their puerile propaganda myths. If anything, that story shows how stupid Móhuàn is. Undoubtedly people with proper hearts wouldn’t conduct such sickening experiments on elves, Thrun countered angrily.

Dismiss it as you may, but this tale does provide some useful tidbits. Further corroboration that Aonachd made the universe, not Hekal. And that Hekal has been lying that the Sanusites were his chosen ones. But why spin this web of deceit? To what end is He working towards? She thought of her family and hoped they were still alright without her. Are the Sanusites just pawns in something bigger?

Aren’t we all, Thrun remarked wistfully, aren’t we all…