Aston:

My mind raced from the possibilities, here. I was The Archmage. A master of magic, who only knows a single, very specific spell that only sometimes works. This was wonderful. This was exactly what I needed after yesterday.

That did, however, somewhat clarify my next steps from here. I would need to start learning how to be a wizard. The Capital would probably have resources that would help me, but I didn’t think taking a straight shot through the woods would be my best bet, here. I’d continue on to a village and take a road into The Capital, like a normal human being.

As I’m working this out, I hear an explosion in the distance, followed by a second one.

Shit.

I ran toward the sounds, fighting all my instincts telling me this was the last thing I wanted to be involved in. If this was whatever I released yesterday, it was something I was going to have to deal with, and I hoped bravado and a fancy title would be sufficient.

I did not, however, find a giant terrorbeast at the source of the explosions.

No, what I found was a girl in a red cloak attempting to put the body of a much larger man in a picnic basket that was much too small to contain much of it. The body must have lost part of its leg, because the basket was up to the knee.

I took a step back, startled and horrified. A branch snapped as I stepped on it. The girl’s head snapped up, eyes full of fight and fury.

An awkward moment of silence stretched between us. This little girl was, by far, the most terrifying creature I had ever come into contact with.

“Well,” she growled, “are you just going to stand there? I need a hand.”

Lyn:

Perhaps the bombs were more powerful than I ‘d given them credit for. I’d have to test them more thoroughly at some point.

I walked over to examine Emett’s condition. He shouldn’t be dead, at least. In fact, if my intuition is correct, it’s nearly impossible for us to actually die. Wounds, sure, and unconsciousness is just going to happen to us from time to time. Actual death, however, took a lot of dramatic buildup that wolves are more or less incapable of. I looked over his body. All of the limbs were present, as were toes and fingers. He continued to breathe, and he had a pulse. He honestly looked mostly unharmed for having been holding a bomb as it exploded.

A wave of relief washed over me as I checked Emett over, followed by a sense of dread. Here we were, stuck in the middle of the forest, Emett unconscious, and me effectively unarmed. Sure, the basket suddenly contains a seemingly endless supply of bombs, but those are also extremely inaccurate without an ally to sacrifice, and I’d just sacrificed my only ally to the bombs. If another pack of wolves decided to attack, Emett and I were in huge trouble.

I would have loved to get Emett out of the forest and into a bed, but… Emett is a massive man. He was quite tall, and had a fair deal of muscle from a few years of farming the family land on top of that. I was not a large woman. I was, in fact, quite a tiny woman. There was no way I was lifting him, or even dragging him, to safety. Unless…

I looked at my basket, then looked at Emett. The basket did seem to have unlimited space since I became The Armsmaster, and it clearly didn’t weigh more as items were put in it. The ridiculous number of bombs inside attested to that. The opening was a little small, but…

As I had the basket around one of Emett’s knees, I heard a branch break near us. I whipped my head up, terrified that I would find another batch of hungry wolves, I was relieved to find only a terrified looking man.

A moment passed, then another. It occurred to me that if I wanted help, I should probably ask for it.

“Well,” I started, politely, “are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

That did not come out how I intended. Oh, well, I tried.

“Please don’t murder me,” the man squeaked out.

“What?” I asked, taken aback. “Why would I do that?”

The man wordlessly gestured at Emett, then at me, then at the scorch marks on the ground where the fire spirit had graciously taken care of the bulk of the wolves. It occurred to me that for him to have appeared so quickly, he must have heard the combat and come running to help. I couldn’t contain a giggle.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m The Armsmaster, and this heavy lump of useless flesh is The Summoner.”

The man did not appear to be mollified. If anything, he appeared further shaken. “Then what were all of the explosions about?! Why are only the two of you here?!”

“Oh, we were attacked by a bunch of hungry dancing wolves.” I believed that about summed up the situation.

“Dancing...wolves?” The man wondered aloud. “Where are their bodies?”

I giggled again. “We dispatched them quite thoroughly.”

The man groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Armsmaster and The Summoner. Are you serious?”

His tone of voice killed the giggles. “Very much so. My name is Lyn, by the way, and The Summoner is my brother Emett. May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Aston,” the man sighed, sounding resigned to his fate. “I’m The Archmage.”

“Oh, that’s quite fortuitous.” I mused on the sheer luck of running into The Archmage out in these woods. This must be divine providence at work. “Can you help me get Emett to the nearest town? I don’t want to be attacked by more wolves.”

“Yeah, that seems to be the best bet.” He looked Emett over. “Though, I must say I’m concerned about The Summoner missing a leg so soon.”

“What? He has both of his legs, one’s just in the basket.” He really wasn’t the most clever man in the world.

Aston paused for a moment, considering how to proceed. “And you really think we can get him into the basket?”

“I think so.” My intuition told me that I could, at least. “I think I just need help lifting him, because him fitting into the basket and actually lifting this slab of meat are two different stories.”

Aston laughed, shaking his head, his tension visibly leaving his face. “I think I can help you with that.”