“God, it’s good to be home!”

And surprisingly enough, it was true. It had been less than a day since I had left the lair, but it felt like it had been years with everything that had happened.

“Welcome home, apprentice mine.” Ahn’Khareen said from her place on the throne of bones.

Wilbur was still laying in her lap and the wolf, who I hadn’t yet named, was sitting next to the throne. As soon as Wilbur saw me, he hopped off of Ahn’Khareen’s lap, ran over and climbed up my body to curl up on my shoulder, squeaking happily as he did so. The wolf, for its part, softly padded over and sat down at my side, tail wagging happily.

“Thank you, master mine.” I said, placing my bag down as I sketched a bow.

“You seem to be in excellent spirits. I imagine your day with others of your own kind went well?”

My face darkened as I thought of everybody I had met, and I shook my head. “Well enough I suppose, but there have been some developments that you should be aware of.”

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Well, they know I’m a mage, but nothing about you or the lair, or necromancy. In exchange for silence about my legal status as a mage, which is apparently my illegal status, the lord has me doing some of his dirty work.”

Ahn’Khareen hummed at this. “It is well enough that you did not reveal my presence, nor your specific school of magical study. And perhaps these tasks of yours may be seen as an opportunity, rather than a burden.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Oh?”

“You can use this “dirty work” to start learning more things about the outside world. Find out exactly how much time has passed since I started my slumber, and what the political situation of the world is. All of my previous informants have since passed or faded into obscurity, and I must be careful in trying to understand the world we find ourselves in, or I might be noticed.”

That was a good idea actually, I hadn’t thought about it like that.

“That reminds me,” I said. “Do you know anything about guns?”

Ahn’Khareen cocked her head. “I have not heard the term before.”

“Uh, firearms, black powder, gun powder, fireworks, anything like that?”

She was silent a moment, then shook her head. “No. I am guessing this is some new invention that has spread throughout the lands?”

“Something like that.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense. I didn’t know much about the medieval period, and I knew even less about the history of firearms, but I did know that gunpowder existed before guns had. I think the Chinese had used them for fireworks, then over a couple hundred years they’d been slowly turned into actual firearms. But it had taken a long time for guns to get to the point where they were used in the 1700’s, like the kind Karsil had tried to shoot me with.

So, if Ahn’Khareen hadn’t heard about anything resembling guns when she went to sleep about two hundred years ago, then how had this world developed these guns so quickly?

“Well, there’s one topic that I can learn about at least.” I said after a minute of silent thought.

“I would be very much interested in learning what you discover.” Ahn’Khareen said. “As it appears the world has changed greatly since I began my slumber. Including clothing, apparently."

“What do you think of my new duds anyways?”

I spun, showing off my clothes off.

“Fashion certainly has… evolved.” She said flatly.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m sure it is acceptable by modern standards. Back when I was alive, when I still cared about such things as fashion, your current outfit would have been rather… plain in comparison.”

“Plain?” I said, more dubious than shocked.

“Indeed.” Ahn’Khareen sighed. “I do so miss the feeling of velvets and silks. I once had a magnificent gown made of giant spider silk, a gift from a tribe of deep elves for services rendered. You will never know such luxury and comfort until you try on spider-silk. While the deep elven tribes may have… unconventional beliefs, their weaving and stitchwork are unparalleled.”

“I… how big does a spider have to be for it to be considered giant?”

“About as large as a horse. They use them for much the same function, down in the recesses of the earth.”

Spiders had never particularly upset or scared me, but that didn’t mean I was fond of them either. But a spider the size of a horse? I made a new mental note to never go down into the deep elves’ caves if I could avoid it.

“What happened to your dress?” I asked, trying to move the subject away from horse-sized spiders.

“It was burned in an encounter with some adventurers who did not agree with my existence. They had a mage who was a sight more capable than I had first anticipated, and a Fireball spell can do an unfortunate amount of damage to spider-silk.”

“Oh.” I said weakly, trying to imagine how powerful a spell it must have been to break through Ahn’Khareen’s shields. “Sorry.”

“It is of no consequence anymore. The mage paid for that slight with his life. But I digress, as even more plain than your new clothes as they may be, while you are studying in my home, I expect you to wear the robes you have been provided.”

“Why?”

Ahn’Khareen sighed. “Would you rather have any tears or spills be on your robes, or on your nice clothes?”

I paused, something clicking together in my mind. “Wait, is that why wizards wear robes all the time?”

“But of course. We are not devoid of fashion sense, robes are just more convenient than normal clothes while we are working.”

Sighing, I picked up the old bag that Karsil had given me to hold my old clothes and began walking towards my room.

“I’ll go change.”

--##--

When I had finished changing back into my robes Ahn’Khareen and I sat down for an evening meal, which consisted of only myself eating while she questioned me about my day and the other people I had met. My headache was feeling much better with time as well as an actually good mug of tea that I had prepared from the kitchen cabinets.

It was a pleasant vindication that, as I told my story, Ahn’Khareen was just as annoyed with the people I had met as I was.

“So, then we pretty much sat and exchanged somewhat veiled threats and half-hearted pleasantries while Penelope tried to make us get along before I was allowed to leave.” I said, wrapping up my time in the Esmaraldis’ manor.

“Nobles.” Ahn’Khareen fairly spat. “Are never pleasant to deal with. Apparently, that truth holds in this time as well as it did in mine.”

“Lord Esmaraldis is an ass.” I agreed. “Although his daughter isn’t as bad.”

“That is of little importance in the long term. What concerns me is his status. You are sure that he said he was part of the Somarisian Empire?”

I frowned, thinking back on my conversation. “Not exactly, but it was implied. He mentioned the Royal Cabal of Somaris, which I’m guessing is some kind of mage’s guild, as well as the fact that the trees of his forest served the empire.”

“His forest.” She hissed, emerald eye-flames flaring in indignation. “The forest cannot belong to any one person, but even if they could I was here in these woods long before his grandmother was born.”

Coughing softly, I tried to redirect her attention back towards the topic she had brought up earlier. “So, about the empire?”

“…Yes. My apologies. The issue at hand is that Somaris, if you remember the history and geography lessons, I had taught you, is- was, a kingdom to the north.”

Something clicked in my head. “So, if their reach extends all the way to these woods, or beyond, then something happened in the past two hundred years or so to give them so much land.”

“Correct. In my time the Somarisian’s were not particularly imperialistic in nature but did enjoy a profitable location for trading and shipping. That was one reason I was not particularly surprised when you arrived at my home speaking their tongue.”

“Could it be the guns?” I asked, still worried about what I had seen.

Ahn’Khareen tapped a bony finger on the table in thought.

“Perhaps.” She admitted. “I do not know their capabilities other than what you have told me. But if they are as powerful as you say, I can see how they would have changed the paradigm of warfare and allowed Somaris to expand.”

I frowned, trying to figure out how that would make a difference. “But what about magic? I mean, I managed to make a shield that could deflect the bullet.”

“But it shattered, as you yourself admitted. What would have happened if there had been two of these muskets?”

My mouth worked, then set in a grim line.

“You see the problem.” Ahn’Khareen said. “This requires much thought and reflection. For now, however, you should complete what this lord asks of you. Build his trust and confidence and learn more about our enemies.”

“What then?”

“There is much about the world that I do not know how it changed. I cannot, will not, reveal myself until I am sure I will not be immediately targeted. We shall have to see how the situation develops, my apprentice.”

I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Ahn’Khareen cocked her head in the way that I had come to recognize as her version of a smile, and she stood from the table.

“Of that, I have no doubt. I would be remiss as your teacher however, if I were to let you continue on as you have been.”

I flinched.

“Indeed, my apprentice. While we cannot increase the speed of your training by too much or risk you failing to learn the fundamentals of magic, we can certainly increase the intensity.”

I’m really starting to wish that I had never met Penelope. I thought glumly. Things could have been so much simpler.

--##--

Lord Esmaraldis’ first request for my aid came at a rather inconvenient time. It had been a couple of days since I had returned home from his manor, and I had spent nearly all of it studying in the library or the laboratory. It was in the former location where Ahn’Khareen found me, hunched over several books, with my skeletal wolf curled up in a ball next to my chair as a book guide.

“There are several humans who have entered the forest.” She said, coming up behind me to look at what I was reading. “Ah, On the Nature of the Planes. Caomendrain is long-winded and his explanations of the planes can be simplistic, but it is a good introduction into planar theory.”

Long-winded was certainly one way of putting it, there were several times when a page would be entirely one single paragraph, and I had lost count of number of times that a sentence could have more than half of its words removed and still keep the same meaning. Still, I was learning a good amount about the different planes of existence.

The fact that there were different planes of existence was still mind-bending to me, and I tried not to think of the ramifications of the theory. Like, was Earth on another world, or in another dimension of reality?

I was lost in the existential crisis that was my very existence for a moment, before I shook it off and realized what Ahn’Khareen had said. I was getting good at doing that with as much practice as I’d had over the past few months.

“Other humans?”

“Three of them. Coming from the direction of the village, towards the stream where you met the young Penelope Esmaraldis.”

“Shit. I thought I would have more time to study.” I glared down at the book, as if it were the cause of my frustration.

Ahn’Khareen somehow managed to look incredulous. “You make a deal with a noble, then are surprised when he follows through with it?”

“Well, I’m not surprised per se, but I just figured he’d wait a little longer, you know? Like how everybody tells you to wait a couple days before texting.”

Silence.

“Alright fine, I’m going.”

I closed the book and laid it on the table, only to look down and see the wolf staring at me expectantly.

“Sorry girl, but you can’t come with me.” That would be a little too obvious for my status as a necromancer.

But the wolf didn’t seem particularly worried about that, instead looking at the book then back at me, then to the bookshelves lining the walls.

“I’m coming back to it!” I said, only to have the wolf cock it’s head doubtfully.

“Fine. Show me where it goes again.”

The wolf got to its feet and padded over to an empty spot on the bookshelf, and I dutifully replaced the book to receive a happy tail wag from the wolf in response.

“Your creations have a somewhat disturbing proclivity towards independent thought.” Ahn’Khareen noted, staring intensely at the wolf.

“Tell me about it.”

“They almost exhibit traits of familiars instead of solely magical constructs.”

“Like a witch’s familiar?”

Ahn’Khareen snorted derisively, which was a real feat considering she didn’t have any vocal cords to do so.

“Witches.” Her tone was acidic as she practically spat the word. “Believe that familiars are spirits of the dead they conjure in animal form to help them with their snake-oil potions.”

“And that’s not what they are?”

“Not at all. A familiar is simply a living animal with a mana construct placed upon it that influences it’s personality and ensures it will follow the commands of their master. Any competent mage can do so, but only witches feel the need to advertise.”

“I see…” I said, not really seeing why she had such distaste towards witches.

“Regardless.” Her eye-flames narrowed to small points. “But this is a distraction, we can discuss the specifics of your creations later. For now, you must fulfill your obligations to the village. Go, I shall be here when you return.”

I sighed, disappointed that my distraction had failed, and headed out of the cave.

--##--

The lord’s men knew I was coming before I reached them, which was something I wished I could say was intentional on my part so they wouldn’t be surprised and try to shoot me. The truth of the matter was that I simply wasn’t very good at trying at sneaking through the woods, and I must have stepped on every fallen branch in the forest as I effectively stumbled my way to the meeting.

The worst part was that it had recently rained the day before, which wasn’t normally a problem in the cave. Ahn’Khareen had told me that the lair itself had been built by a dwarven clan who owed her a favor, and their stone working skills had ensured that ensured even the heaviest rains wouldn't flood the cave. It had rained a lot in the past three months, and it had never been a problem until now.

The difference being that I had remained inside for the past three months, and never actually had to worry about the rain, or more importantly its aftermath. The nice hard game trails that I had taken the first few times I had gone outside were gone, and in their place were hellish quagmires of mud.

It was a lot less impressive than I could have hoped for then, when I finally made it to the meeting. My converse, once a nice white, were now completely unrecognizable with mud. The lower half of my robes were likewise covered with the muck, with leaves and other bits of plants plastered to the wet cloth. Not even the top of my robe had been spared, with my left side still wet from where I had slipped on a patch of wet leaves.

In short, I was wet, annoyed at having to leave the nice warm comfort of my cave, still vaguely irritated at having been made a pawn of a lord, and all-in-all just thoroughly miserable.

Two men and a woman were there to meet me, and they all were wearing roughly the same kind of clothes that I had been given by the lord. They were also all carrying muskets and were very pointedly trying not to laugh at me, given my rather bedraggled appearance.

“Magus Amsel?” The woman said, stepping up.

“That’s me.” I grumped, brushing a leaf off of my shoulder.

“I’m Corporal Baker. These are Privates Creal and Jones.” She said, gesturing at the two men behind her.

“Charmed. Are you all in the army?”

She chuckled. “Hardly at all. We’re part of the Hawkthorne Militia, so we’re only part-timers. Creal here is a farmer, and Jones is actually the village’s solicitor.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re a baker?”

Her laugh was high and bright. “Guessed it in one. It’s a family business.”

“So, what are we doing exactly?” I asked, looking around the small clearing. “I’m guessing you all have orders from Lord Esmaraldis, but what can I do?”

“Well, it’s a bit complicated.” Baker said, and I sighed.

“My thoughts exactly.” Piped up Private Creal for the first time, and his voice was a thin tenor.

“Quiet Creal. So, on her last trip into the woods apparently Her Little Ladyship had stolen her father’s pistol.” Baker explained, and I realized she was talking about Penelope. “However, she didn’t tell anybody about this or got permission to do so until after everything went sideways and you had to rescue her. Thanks for that, by the way, because it would have been hell on the militia if we had to go into the forest to kill a bunch of goblins in reprisal.”

“Technically speaking, if she had gotten permission to take the pistol, it wouldn’t have been theft.” Private Jones said, with the kind of pedantry that lawyers across two worlds apparently shared.

“Not helping Jones. Anyways, her father is understandably upset about this, and wants it back.”

I frowned, trying to think to a couple days ago. “I don’t remember seeing a pistol with her.”

“Yeah, well there’s the rub. Apparently, she dropped it when she first saw the goblins, before she started running.”

“Well, I don’t know where that is?”

“Apparently,” Baker said, with the tone of somebody who had had this conversation before. “It was a little ways away from here, on the main trail towards the village.”

“Didn’t you come up that trail?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you looked for it then?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t find it?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Our thoughts exactly.”

I smiled, despite myself and the situation. Finally, some normal people.

“So, what does the lord expect me to do about it?” I asked.

“Hells if I know. Do you have a spell or something that you can find things with?”

“Not one I have memorized.”

There was in fact a spell like that, if I remembered correctly, but I couldn’t remember what book it was in. This was the exact reason I had created my wolf in the first place, if only I had the time to go back to the lair and take the time to-

“Is the memorization thing necessary?” Creal asked, jolting me from my reverie.

“Yes. Not really. It’s complicated.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that, no, you don’t have a spell.” Baker said.

“Not as such no.”

“Well, looks like we’re doing this the old fashioned way.”

--##--

“So.” Jones said, moving aside some ferns as we scoured the trail for the missing pistol. “What did you do to get punished?”

“Why do you think I’m being punished?” I asked.

“Because instead of doing wizardly things, you’re here, in the middle of a forest doing dirty work.”

“I’m not being punished.”

There was a skeptical silence from the rest of the group.

“I did the right thing.” I grudgingly admitted, and everybody else groaned or whistled.

“That’ll do it.” Creal said with a surprisingly high pitched laugh.

“What about you all?” I shot back, hiding my blush by moving a bit further down the road. “Why are a bunch of militiamen- “

“And militawomen.” Baker cut in.

“- And militiawomen doing out here instead of your actual jobs.”

“We screwed up on the last training weekend.” Baker admitted, shrugging. “So, we’ve been assigned to any odd jobs that the Lord has.”

“Like finding a lost pistol in the middle of the woods.” I said.

“Exactly like that.”

“Bastard.” Jones grumbled. “Who cares about a pistol anyways? I swear all of these lords need to go and-“

“Easy there Jonesy,” Baker said. “You can say that kind of stuff around us, but there are people who don’t take so kindly to that kind of talk about nobles.”

She looked nervously over in my direction, but I shrugged.

“He’s a bastard.” I admitted. “I don’t really care about nobility or anything like that, so go ahead.”

“You see, it’s not just me!” Jones continued, with clear vindication in his voice. “All I’m saying is that the system of nobility and peerage may have made sense centuries ago, but with our more modern world it’s clearly outdated.”

“What would you recommend then?” I asked, to a chorus of groans from the rest of the group.

“Don’t get him started.” Creal said, but Jones started talking over him.

“I think that the people should have more of a say! Some of the ancient orcish city-states used to have a kind of democracy, where all adults of a certain age were given the right to vote on issues facing their city.”

“Who would want to give you a vote?” Baker sniped.

“Now I’m not saying that that’s what we should do in the Empire, it’s too big for that, but we should be given the option to elect a representative who can bring our issues to the queen.”

“Isn’t that what the lord of a village does anyway?” I asked, strangely amused to see the beginnings of revolutionary rhetoric in a lawyer who was picking through a bush on the side of a game trail.

“You would think so, and the original intent may have been that way, but not anymore. Lords can’t be held accountable by anybody but their superiors, so there’s no repercussions if they mistreat their villagers. If we could elect somebody, we would have the power to ensure they didn’t abuse theirs.”

“Jones.” Baker said warningly.

“No, I’m sorry corporal, but this isn’t just me talking, there’s a whole movement that- “

“Jones shut up! I hear something.”

The man’s mouth closed with a clack, and we all stopped moving, straining to listen to whatever Baker had heard.

There was indeed a rustling coming from the left-hand side of the trail, and instinctually we all knelt or tried to take cover behind some plants or trees. It took another few seconds of tense waiting, but eventually the sounds made themselves clear.

It was a small procession of goblins, five of the small green ones that I had seen and killed before, and one taller figure. Taller in this case was a relative term, it must have been only about five feet, but it had almost orange skin and was clad in actual clothes and armor, not just rags and scraps like the other ones did. It had a wicked looking sword on its hip, and a pistol shoved into its belt. The same pistol, I was willing to bet, that we were looking for.

“Shit.” Baker whispered. “A hobgoblin.”

She looked over at me. “What do we do?”

“Why are you asking me? Aren’t you supposed to be in charge?” I hissed at her.

“I’m just a corporal! You’re a mage!”

“That doesn’t mean I know anything about fighting!”

“Guys,” Creal said quietly. “I think they’ve heard you.”

Baker and I both looked over, and sure enough the goblins were all staring in our general direction. They weren’t running away or charging at us, so I didn’t think they knew for sure where we were, but our conversation hadn’t been nearly as quiet as I had hoped.

“Attack on three?” Baker asked.

“Yeah.” I agreed, then looked at everybody else. “Get ready.”

They all nodded, and I took a deep breath in, forming the mental image of a Force Bolt matrix.

“One.” With a series of metallic clicks, the militia pulled back the hammers of their muskets.

“Two.” The goblins definitely knew something was up, but they didn’t notice the three soldiers taking aim with their muskets.

“Three.”

I stood up and let loose a bolt of force, directly at the hobgoblin leader. At the same time, three loud coughing gunshots ripped through the underbrush besides me as the muskets fired.

The results weren’t nearly as well as I had hoped for. Two of the goblins collapsed immediately from the musket balls with gruesome wounds, and the hobgoblin took the Force Bolt in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.

The other three goblins screeched in surprise and fear, and I quickly let out another bolt, catching one in the chests and crushing his ribcage. The two surviving monsters apparently gained control of themselves however, and with a familiar haunting yipping war cry, they hefted their rusty daggers and charged me.

Baker and her soldiers rushed out of the brush to catch them however, and the fight was over before it had really started. Their muskets were longer than the goblins were tall, and Creal and Jones used the butts of their weapons like clubs, easily staving in the goblin’s heads. It was perhaps one of the most gruesome things I had seen yet, and I felt sick staring at the crushed skulls of the monsters before me.

“Fuck me.” I said, breathing heavily.

“That was amazing!” Jones cried, looking over at me. “How did you do that?”

“Magic.” I grunted in response, still dazed at how quickly everything had gone. The entire fight had only lasted a couple of seconds, which somehow seemed far too short for what had happened.

“Come on,” Creal said, pulling out a knife. “The lord put up a bounty on goblin ears. Time to collect.”

He and the other soldiers knelt by the smaller goblins, and I was horrified to see them actually start sawing away at the sides of their heads, cutting off the ears. Fighting back my revulsion, I moved over to the hobgoblin, remembering the pistol in its belt and the purpose we were out here to begin with.

I leaned over to grab the pistol, but froze as it’s eyelids shot open, yellow pupils blazing with fury. It’s right arm was crushed by my spell, but it was fast enough with the other arm to grab the pistol from its belt.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the arm came up, and I hurriedly tried to form the matrix for a Shield. I was just beginning to draw in the mana, when the pistol barked, and everything went black.